#and like. she knows that! she knows full well what her Reputation is elsewhere even if she left her version of the Alliance early

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

listening to my Tideturners playlist was a mistake because I am having SO many feelings about the Sidewinder again.

she's not just any AU of Mai Trin; she's a version who's endured the absolute worst case scenario and lives every day in fear of losing everything all over again. but her story flips the entire narrative of Guild Wars 2 on its head; it's all a matter of perspective, and hers comes from an entirely different angle than we're used to.

what is a monster? as they say, to a bird, a cat is a monster.

the Sidewinder's monster is the Commander.

the first Commander she ever met was a tyrant who set the world on fire just to watch it burn. nothing could stop his rampage until there was nothing left to destroy. he made Scarlet Briar's war look like a playground scuffle; in fact, he did it by killing her and seizing her army to do it with. the Sidewinder doesn't have to wonder what a rogue Commander is capable of at their worst. she KNOWS.

and she also knows that if even a single one knew about her outpost, about her, about her people, and decided they were a threat to get rid of, there's absolutely nothing she could do to stop them. the most she could hope to do is be enough of a speed bump that the rest of the Turnabout can escape and make her sacrifice worthwhile.

she's spent decades building up a new world, a new society, and a new identity-- and in a split second a single person could bring it all crashing down. that absolutely terrifies her. it's all so fragile.

a major part of the Sidewinder's personal arc has to do with overcoming that dread to find common ground. because, truth-be-told, much as she'd insist otherwise? she's not so different from the Commander herself. she's fought long and hard to become someone worthy of the trust and respect that so many refugees from so many, many different worlds have placed on her. it's not enough to have it, she wants to DESERVE it. and even if she'd claim she's not there yet, most would agree she's succeeded. she's the beating heart of the Turnabout; none of it would exist without her. she's given all of them the hope that the heroes of their own worlds couldn't.

Mai Trin never wanted to be a leader or a hero or a politician. but as the Sidewinder, she's become all three out of necessity. she had no other choice. no one else was left alive to do it in her place.

so she puts on her mask, and she steps onto the stage, and she talks big, but deep down she knows that if the worst case scenario came back, there was nothing she could do to protect them, not on her own. the only thing that might stand a chance is another Commander, and is she really prepared to take a risk like that? is she willing to put it all on the line to fight for a future without fear?

and even if they are the right choice, even if they do agree to help in spite of it all... can she put one of the last good people at risk, knowing just what horrors they'd be up against? facing someone who's killed others like them a hundred times over, allowing them no rest even in death as their shambling corpses are conscripted into his undead army? how can she, in good conscience, expect anyone to face something so horrific with stakes as high as THAT? which is worse; that they turn against her, or that they trust her and die, adding another force of nature to their enemies' ranks? the Sidewinder doesn't know the answer to that question, if there is one.

there's so much weight on every choice she must make, and the consequences of every wrong move are unfathomable. she might not be the Commander, but that, at least, is one thing they have in common. the decisions they make will decide who lives and who dies.

all the Sidewinder can hope is that when she finally does make that leap of faith, she'll be ready to handle whatever results lay in store.

[stonerbamtori]

Purple Haze

synopsis: Due to screwing up at the Strawberryland Annual Fair, Mary Jane isn't very well liked by her fellow villagers. She hardly ever goes into town. Elsewhere in the little village is Peach Beomgyu, equally isolated but for entirely different reasons. After typical medical malpractice leads the unlikely pair to cross paths, things get smoky.

THIS FIC IS BASED ON THE STRAWBERRYLAND EVENT BY @thetxtdevil and @beomiracles 's concept of Peach Beomgyu but with tweaked bruising lore and can take place in a pre/post/parallel timeline to Little Apricot

pairing: Peach!Beomgyu x Marijuana!Reader ??????

wordcount: too many ~10k

warnings: MDNI, fluff/smut, hurt/comfort, sub!Beomgyu / softdom!reader, fem!reader sorry for pussy rocking, chubby!reader (she gets the munchies haha get it), pretty vanilla sex all things considered, but there is slight cum eating, bad language, drug use, smoking, edibles, reader has snake bites, that pottery scene from ghost but its teaching him to use a bong, other txt members mentioned, also chaewon don't worry about it, clementine was cute in strawberry shortcake and chaewon starts with c so i had to add her, idk what im doing, i don't normally write fics, this is basically just a disability allegory, beomgyu is a fuzzy peach like in the og, my shitty sense of humor is involved

author's note: this account may just be me dumping this fic and running. hope you enjoy if you have the same derangements as I do

Strawberryland is an idyllic little village, rather conservative in its values- after all, everyone that lives in it is a cute little hybrid motherfucker. The culture surrounds plants, especially fruits- gardening, exchanging foods, sharing recipes, etc. Residents nearly all tend to their own gardens, sharing heritage with a particular plant species. Some even had full orchards. A few of the villagers are quite popular, like Cherry Yeonjun or Lemon Drop Soobin. Others, though, are not- like Mary Jane.

Mary isn't a particularly tasty fruit. Rather, she was a flower, an herb. But she wasn't delicious. Sure, she was edible, but no one was baking her buds in treats for the taste. She was something else.

For a day job, Mary Jane puts herself to use as a town healer. After many years of trying her hand at helping with different things around town, she stumbled upon her uncanny ability to alleviate pain. Naturally skilled, she took care of whoever she could when the opportunity presented itself. Before long it became clear that this was her natural talent; this was all she knew how to do. Soon enough she settled into such a role. Although many thought she was a bit kooky and out there, she didn't really know what else to offer.

Though she has limited training, she is rather successful. Still, because she's a natural healer, her work is commonly thought of as improper. Dr. Chamomile and the others, licensed in medicine, are considered reputable. Mary Jane is considered shady- not above board.

Still, Mary wanted so badly to be a part of Strawberryland, to be among the people. After running into him at the local market, Mary took up baking alongside the kind Gingerbread Taehyun, who had a rather curious mind. In exchange for information on the mystery of the young woman living on the outskirts of town, he teaches her some basic recipes, including brownies.

Using what she learned, Mary Jane baked a big batch of brownies for the County Fair. But when people started to turn loopy after eating her treats, any salvageable bit of reputation she had left was gone. Blueberry Kai was so faded that Cherry Yeonjun had to carry him home on his back. When their precious youngest is threatened, the villagers accuse Mary Jane of trying to poison them. She is swiftly banned from the Fair. From then on, any appearance she made in town was met with scoffs.

Not everyone was so rude. Blueberry Kai, for example, still brought her pie when he had some to spare. "Just because you're not... great at baking, doesn't mean you're a bad person," he'd say, with a grimace. Others, like Clementine Chaewon, came to her for healing. Mary Jane was mostly shunned into her home, but she at least was not completely isolated.

Although her services are not under high demand, Mary takes great comfort in being able to contribute in at least this little way. The one thing that can heal her lonely heart is putting herself to good use. She soothes the pain of her fellow villagers whenever she can.

-

Something is wrong with Peach Beomgyu. Everyone in Strawberryland knows it. Hell, his hair isn't even Peach. Within a dilapidated cottage hidden in the forest, Beomgyu keeps to himself. He isn't like the other fruits. His garden doesn't bloom. His hair is dark. He is consistently covered in bruises. And although he is rather playful, he can only manage to brush aside his chronic pain so often. It isn’t uncommon for there to be a frown on his face.

Peach Beomgyu doesn't go into town much, but for reasons different than Mary Jane. It was an entire ordeal- he would have to ration his energy, plan for mishaps, and take time to recover after. Most of the time Beomgyu left the safe haven of his cottage, it was just to visit Chamomile at the clinic. Only the necessities.

Today is just one of many in a week of flare-ups for him. Once he has reluctantly exited his bed, Peach Beomgyu makes some tea, swirling a spoonful of apricot jam into the mix. Although the first sip is heavenly, and the warmth soothes his throat, the rest of his muscles still ache. After tossing and turning for the umpteenth time on the couch to get comfortable, he drops his book on the floor. He groans, defeated. If he couldn't even read, he might as well be dead.

-

"I'm sorry, Beomgyu. There's just nothing I can do," Dr. Chamomile sighs, scribbling something on the notepad on her desk. He wasn’t even sure she was listening. Or what she could be possibly writing down given the conversation. Maybe she was just doodling.

"Please, Dr. Chamomile. I know my condition cannot be cured, but there has to be something you can give me to at least help with the symptoms," Beomgyu pleads, eyes worn.

Dr. Chamomile sighs, her tired eyes blinking slowly. "I can offer you some tea to help the body relax, but that's really it. I've told you this time and time again."

Frustrated after being consistently let down, Peach Beomgyu can't help but slam his fist on the desk. "That stuff isn't strong enough! It doesn't do shit!"

At the sudden slam, Dr. Chamomile jumps, startled out of her stupor. Dr. Chamomile didn’t take nicely to being so violently bewildered. She scowls, a stern look suddenly on her face. "Then don't take the tea. Now get out. I have other patients," she mutters, jaw set. Beomgyu feels his heart fall at her look of disapproval, just like everyone else's. Head hung in shame, he sullenly leaves the office.

As Peach Beomgyu slowly hobbles through town, too stubborn to let anyone see him with a cane for fear they'll pity him all the more, he can't help but glare ahead. A raincloud practically hangs above his head. As he shuffles over the cobblestone, a cheerful voice snaps him out of his sulking. "Peach Beomgyu! It's good to see you," says Clementine Chaewon.

The short girl smiles up at him, excited by the opportunity to speak to someone so elusive. It almost makes Beomgyu's frown soften. No one ever looked that excited to see him. If anything, they winced. "...Hi Clementine Chaewon," he murmurs awkwardly, dropping his gaze.

Chaewon, although cheerful, is not tone deaf. "What's wrong?" she murmurs gently, tilting her head slightly to try and catch his eyes.

Beomgyu sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. "Dr. Chamomile says there's nothing more she can do for me. I mean, look at me. I'm all fucked up, there's no hiding it. How am I supposed to live like this, knowing I'm never going to get better?" His voice cracks with vulnerability as he extends his bruised arms. Shit- he really hadn't meant to say that much, especially stuff so dark. It just slipped out. Maybe he was beginning to reach a breaking point.

Chaewon's eyes widen. To say she didn't see that coming would be an understatement. Peach Beomgyu hardly ever spoke more than a few words, infamously quiet. After a moment, though, her gaze softens with compassion. "Beomgyu, please don't say that. You're not 'all fucked up'. You're just bruised," she gets out after a sputter.

Beomgyu sighs, unable to help but relent under her kind-hearted words. But who was going to pick on the bruised guy? Of course she had to say that. "Thanks. I just wish I wasn't in pain, that's all. Even if I am different from everyone else, even if I can't bear fruit- that's fine... I just wish these bruises didn't ache."

Chaewon sighs, nodding in understanding. She's quiet for a moment, gaze drifting aside as she thinks. Finally, she suggests, "Why not go to Mary Jane?"

Peach Beomgyu furrows his brows. It went without saying that he was a total homebody. The only people he knew in town were the ones he came across when he was forced out of his hideaway. "Who's Mary Jane?"

"Marijuana. She lives on Hemp Lane. She does natural healing. I know it sounds like snake oil salesman nonsense, but she really helped me when I hurt my back last year gardening!" Clementine Chaewon explains.

Beomgyu narrows his gaze as he considers this, nose scrunching up in distaste. As a well-read man, Beomgyu always thought of himself as informed. A man of science. He was too intellectual for essential oils and natural remedies. That stuff was all scams.

Still, the desperation in the back of his mind doesn't want to completely let go of the idea. It is still hope, albeit half-hearted. "...It's not like I have anything to lose," he sighs. "Thank you, Chaewon. I'll give it a shot."

Chaewon smiles once again. "Of course! Do you need any help getting home?"

Beomgyu frantically shakes his head. "Oh, no, no! Thank you, but I'm alright." And just like that, he scrambles to return to his walk home before she can insist. He's not sure if it's his pride or his general hatred of small talk that propels him, but he's off.

"No problem. Have a good night!" Chaewon calls after him with a wave and a beaming smile, before heading off in the other direction.

Beomgyu can't help but let out a huff as soon as he's out of earshot, pain shooting up his legs as he rigidly corrects his posture for imagined prying eyes. Appearing in public was always a performance. As he continues the trek home, it's as if his mind turns off. The only thing he can focus on is the deliberate effort of every step. When his cottage finally comes into view, he thinks he could weep for joy.

Once inside, he collapses on the couch. He doesn't get up again until the next day.

-

It's about noon when Mary blinks her bleary eyes open. People didn't come by often, and certainly didn't in the morning hours. With a yawn, she stretches, relaxed muscles coming to life one by one.

It's a day like any other. Mary tends to her plants in the yard, watering and surveying them. She mostly grows marijuana, of course, the plant passed through her family. Still, she's experimented with many variations. Her favorite is Purple Haze for its beautiful color- and lucky is she, for it matches her hair.

Once Mary is satisfied with the state of her crops, she returns inside. She hums as she enters the kitchen, grabbing a few buds from a jar on the counter. In one swift move, she clicks on the radio and grabs the mortar and pestle.

Mary sings along to the tune as she grinds down the buds, too lost in the song to pay much attention. Once she feels little resistance, she smiles down at the bowl. Perfect.

When she sits down on the couch and sets the bowl on her coffee table beside her favorite bong, her tranquility is interrupted as she hears a knock at the door. She pauses, brows furrowing. Had she imagined that? No one called to say they were coming today. Maybe it was just part of the song on the radio?

When another knock is heard, she hums, pouting in surprise. She makes her way to open the door, only to have to squint into the bright sunlight.

Slowly, her pupils adjust to the light, green irises rimmed with red more visible. The young man standing before her isn't someone she recognizes, and he's at least a head taller than her as she looks up. "Hello," she murmurs with a lazy smile, eyes a bit droopy.

"Uh, hi. Are you Mary Jane?" Peach Beomgyu asks nervously. What was with this girl? She looked half asleep.

She blinks for a moment. "Hm? Oh, yeah. That's me," she drawls, a bit dazed. Still, Mary notices the way he shakes, frowning slightly and giving him a once over. It wasn't just anxiety- he was leaning on a cane of beautifully carved wood. Her eyes light up at the sight. "Holy shit, that's an excellent cane you have. Come in!"

Beomgyu's eyes widen a bit, not expecting a genuine compliment on his mobility aid. "Ah, thank you..." He nods with a slight blush, slowly stepping inside behind her. Mary closes the door and gestures for him to sit on the couch.

Mary Jane smiles, patiently waiting until he's comfortably sat to join him. "Did you carve it yourself?" she asks excitedly. With the cane at the forefront of her mind, she'd forgotten to ask why he was even here. It wasn't immediately important.

"Uh, yeah, I did..." Beomgyu says nervously, eyes surveying the items on her coffee table. A bowl of herbs and some sort of... phallic contraption. Maybe coming here was a bad idea.

"Well, you're very talented. I'm a bit of an artist myself in my free time, but everything I've whittled is shit compared to that," Mary chuckles, before catching herself cursing. "Oh shit- sorry, I have a bad habit of swearing..." she murmurs, voice softer and apologetic.

Peach Beomgyu chuckles. "It's fine. I'm not hurt by little words," he says with a smirk, before sighing. "So, Chaewon told me you do healing and stuff. Is that true?"

Mary blinks, spacey and having forgotten the task at hand. Ah! "Yeah, I try! I'm a bit of an amateur, but I do my best. I'm CPR certified by the Strawberry Council," she announces proudly, a self-satisfied grin on her face as she raises her chin high.

Beomgyu can't help but chuckle a bit at her goofy display of pride over something so simple. There's something charming about it. "Wow. I'm impressed," he murmurs half-heartedly.

Although Mary Jane picks up on his half-sincerity, she smiles. "Thanks. So you need to be healed, do you... what's your name?"

Beomgyu chuckles again. Mary didn't seem too quick to the punch. "I'm Peach Beomgyu. Nice to meet you," he introduces, giving a slight bow of his head, which Mary returns.

"A peach? No wonder you are here for healing. You're awfully bruised," Mary murmurs with a frown, gaze drifting from the brown hair atop his head to the marks on his fuzzy arms. It was as if she dumped a bucket of ice water on his head. Most of the villagers wouldn't acknowledge any of it out loud. Too awkward, too taboo. But Mary Jane is taboo.

It took Beomgyu a second to gather himself enough to answer coherently. "...Yeah... I was just born this way. I've been to Dr. Chamomile several times, and even traveled further to visit Dr. Ginseng, but there's no cure. The only thing I can do is try to be comfortable as I live with it," Beomgyu explains, voice a bit gentler than before. It was as if his voice handled the fragile topic as delicately as it could.

Mary Jane nods slowly, a look of acknowledgement taking over her eyes that betrays an unexpected wisdom. "So the system is failing you, and you need to get creative?" she murmurs, much more invested, though her little grin provides the smallest hint of levity. Peach Beomgyu lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Yeah… Can you help me?” Peach Beomgyu whispers, lower lip caught between his teeth. He didn’t mean to plead, but the desperation in his eyes was hard to hide. He didn’t want to hurt anymore. 

Mary Jane smiles, resting a hand on his shoulder gently, careful not to hurt his tender skin. “Of course. I assume you are coming here because you're willing to try some less conventional options. You know about my reputation, right?" she asks with a grimace.

Beomgyu nods. "Yeah, I'm aware of the risks.... I'm still interested," he murmurs meekly.

Mary Jane nods, keeping a trained neutrality on her face so as not to sway his decision. "Marijuana helps with pain relief- not strong enough for surgery, for example, but certainly for body aches and pains,” she explains swiftly, sitting up straighter. “Do you smoke?”

Peach Beomgyu’s eyes widen a bit as his cheeks flush pink. “Uh, not really… I can if that’s the only option, but…” he trails off, awkwardly averting his gaze. He didn’t fuck with his lungs. He already had enough to deal with when it came to the bruising.

Mary Jane shakes her head with a smile. “No, no, don’t worry about it! I have edibles. It takes longer for it to kick in, but it is also generally stronger. Since this is your first time, I’ll give you a low dose to try,” she explains, standing to her feet. The soft patter of her feet is heard as she walks into her kitchen to retrieve two brownies- one for each of them. 

“Brownies?” Beomgyu asks, furrowing a brow. 

Mary Jane nods. “Yup! They might taste slightly off because of the pot, but I think they’re passable,” she says with a grin, extending the plate. Beomgyu takes a brownie, frowning slightly as he examines it. There was obvious hesitation in his eyes. Was it really worth this? He didn’t know what was scarier, if he had a bad reaction, or if it just didn’t work. Did he really want to eat something strange from this girl?

“Do you trust me?” Mary Jane asks softly, rousing him from his thoughts. Beomgyu was about to say no when he looks up at her face, at her eyes sparkling with hope, and suddenly he's taking a bite.

It was alright. He chews slowly.

Mary Jane beams, sitting beside him again and eating a brownie of her own. 

The two finish their treats and sit in awkward silence.

“....So… How long is this supposed to take to kick in?” Peach Beomgyu whispers, twiddling with his thumbs.

“Twenty minutes on an empty stomach,” she murmurs back. “It has to digest to hit your bloodstream.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu remarks softly with a slight nod. 

The silence is regular for Beomgyu, but unbearable for Mary Jane. After another minute, she can’t help but yap again. “So, Peach Beomgyu! I’m a healer or whatever, but what do you do? How do you pass the time?”

Beomgyu blinks, unsure where the girl who can barely keep her eyes fully open gets the energy. “Well, I don’t go out much on account of the bruising… I usually pass the time reading.” 

At this, Mary Jane lights up. “Reading? I love books! What do you read?” she asks excitedly, nearly a golden retriever at this moment. Maybe if she’s enthusiastic enough, he will crack a smile.

Not yet, though. “Uh, mostly fantasy. I mostly read fiction, novels. I like scifi too, but fantasy is my favorite,” Beomgyu explains, more interested than before, maybe, but still far from excited.

“Ah. I only really read nonfiction. I’m a bit of a nerd, I guess,” Mary Jane confesses sheepishly. It’s this that finally gets a reaction out of Beomgyu, eyebrows shooting up. 

“Nonfiction? Really? But isn’t it boring?” he implores, eyes widened. “I don’t really read that stuff for fun.”

“Not at all! I love to learn about the outside world. I can’t experience all of it myself, but I can learn about it. I can hear the stories of those who came before me, too. Of how the world became this way,” she muses, thoughtful words in contrast to her lazy drawl. At this, Beomgyu pouts in consideration. He gives her a shrug. “Besides, doesn’t fiction kind of get boring sometimes? When you think about how the stories aren’t even real…”

Peach Beomgyu can’t help but blink as he realizes the differences in their ways of thinking. He didn’t anticipate that this eccentric girl would be, perhaps, a bigger nerd than him, but anything was possible. Before he can think much further into it, though, his eyes start to feel a bit fuzzy- and not like his peach fuzz. “Uh, Mary Jane? I’m starting to feel it, I think,” he stutters softly, chest warm.

Mary Jane’s eyes light up as she peers over at him, examining his demeanor. Drooping posture, half-lidded eyes… “You’re high,” she smiles. 

“High?” Beomgyu asks, brows furrowing. “Isn’t that bad?”

Mary Jane shrugs. “It won’t harm your body nearly as much as alcohol would, because it stresses your liver. And since you didn’t even smoke it, your lungs will be fine. Marijuana is a depressant like alcohol, so it general slows down the nervous system. The high will last about two or three hours.” When she sees the nervous look on his face, she softens a bit further. "You wanted to give it a try, right?"

Beomgyu slowly nods. He had been willing. It’s just that now that he’s heard the term “high” all his negative associations begin to surface once more. Still, this really wasn’t that bad. For once, his arms weren’t aching, and neither were his legs. Even the bruise on his ribs was conspicuously numb. “I did. I guess I’m just nervous because I’ve never been high before…” he trails off. 

Mary Jane hums in understanding, her own edible starting to hit as well. “It’s okay, you’ll be fine. I’ll be right here in case you have a bad reaction or anything. You should expect some dry mouth though. Unfortunate side effect,” she chuckles. Beomgyu nods, cracking a small smile at the sound of her laugh. 

“Alright, I guess I can live with that,” he murmurs playfully, relaxing further into the couch cushions. The further he sinks into the plush stuffing, the more weightless he feels. It’s almost akin to floating on clouds, if they were covered in corduroy. A feeling of relaxation and general pleasantness washes over not only his body, but also his mind. His anxieties begin to fade.

Mary Jane tilts her head, gaze narrowing as she gives him a knowing look. He was rather cute as he grew more dazed. She hadn’t known him for long, but this was the first time she’d seen him so peaceful. “So how do you feel? How’s the pain?”

Beomgyu hums happily as he melts into the couch beside her. He hadn’t even consciously thought about the bruising, really. But his pain was definitely alleviated in this moment. Or maybe some of it was there, but the high made him not care, made it not bother him. He wasn’t sure. But before Beomgyu can even realize it, silent tears slip down his cheeks. This is the first time he's been without pain in years.

The second Mary sees his tears, her heart aches, and she quickly touches his shoulder again. “Oh, Beom, are you okay? Why are you crying, Peach?” she coos, a more doting side of her coming out. She was a caretaker, ultimately. 

Peach Beomgyu sniffles, wiping his face clumsily with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it's just… I can’t remember the last time I felt relief like this,” he confesses in a whimper. Mary’s heart wrenches. 

Hesitant, she opens her arms. “Oh, sweetheart… can I hold you?” she whispers, needing permission before she touches him, no matter how much her heart was screaming at her too. Especially with his sensitive skin. There were times when having discipline was important, to not impulsively give into her instincts, and this was one of them.

When Beomgyu wordlessly nods, Mary Jane scoops him up in her arms as delicately as she can, cradling his taller form against hers. She’s soft to the touch, squishy under his weight. After all, all these years of the munchies hadn’t left her particularly skinny. 

Beomgyu lets out a shaky sigh as he eases in her grasp, slowly letting go of his muscles. He didn’t want to crush her with his weight, but the high was relaxing his body so much. He felt so heavy, but not in a bad way. Mary Jane quietly coos again, gently stroking his back over his shirt. Beomgyu can’t help but give in completely, melting into a puddle in her hold. 

“...thank you,” he whispers meekly, a small, vulnerable voice. 

Mary Jane knew in that moment she would protect him to her death. 

“Of course, angel. You don’t need to thank me. You deserve to feel comfortable, to exist without pain…” she whispers back. 

And just like that, the two remain cuddled on her couch in comfortable silence. 

-

It becomes clear rather quickly that Beomgyu needed this kind of support regularly, and there was no reason for Mary to deny him. If she could help it, he would never feel pain again. After he went back home that first time, he’s continued to drop by regularly. Mary Jane offered to bring his supply to his house, but Beomgyu insisted that he needed to get out of the house once a week. Mary Jane didn’t realize what a little safe haven her home had come to feel like to him.

It’s a month later when Mary carefully blows him a glass bong of his own, forging in her garage. The smoke isn't anything out of the ordinary, anyway. She carefully sculpts the molten glass, adding a peach shaped bulb for the water to sit in at the base. Once the glass is cooled enough, Mary Jane can’t help calling him. 

“Peach Beomgyu?” Mary Jane chirps into the phone.

“Hm? Mary Jane?” she hears Beomgyu’s voice filtered back through the line.

“Yes! I have a gift for you. Could I come by?” she asks, biting her lip in excitement. She couldn’t wait to show him how to smoke this. Now that he’s opted to smoke so he can get the relief faster, this would be a game changer. 

“I was already going to drop by later today to pick up my stash anyway. I’ll be there in a couple hours,” he responds. He can’t help but smile to himself when he hears her eagerness through the phone. She was rather excitable. 

“If you’re really sure you’re okay with walking all this way?” she asks with a grimace. 

“Mary Jane, it’s like three streets down. I’m not that bruised,” he chuckles. He has sounded so much happier lately, she thinks she could cry. Still, she laughs at his joke. 

“Alright, alright, I won’t nag then. Just please be careful!” she acquiesces, before hanging up the phone.

-

As Mary Jane waits for Peach Beomgyu to arrive, she tidies her little cottage. Once she’s done with that, she’s a bit restless. She has to force herself to sit down on the couch to stop pacing willy-nilly.

While she sinks into the sofa, her gaze settles on the two bongs on her coffee table- one purple, like her, the other peach, like Beomgyu. Beomgyu wasn't in pain when he was with Mary Jane. But maybe she could aim higher than that. It didn't take long for Mary Jane to feel a deep connection to this young man. In a lot of ways, he was just like her, and just as lonely. The moment they shared was intimate, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty at how much it meant to her. She wasn’t supposed to be this attached. She was basically just a glorified dealer who deluded herself into thinking she's a nurse. But still, she had held him while his life changed. 

At this point, Mary couldn't help but want to please him more. Seeing his smile had become an addiction. Watching him come to stop hating his body was amazing. But maybe seeing him merely comfortable wasn’t enough. She wanted him to enjoy his body as a source of pleasure rather than pain for once. It was a body she loved, because despite its flaws, it was his. And not only that, it was the reason they met in the first place. Maybe, if Beomgyu had been a perfect peach, they wouldn’t have ever crossed paths.

Mary Jane’s thoughts are interrupted when she hears a knock on the door. She quickly shakes the thoughts away, jumping to her feet to answer the door. There he was, looking far more radiant than ever. “Hey, Mary,” Beomgyu says with a smile, stepping inside. Mary Jane can’t help smiling back- it was like his grin was contagious, somehow.

“Hi, Beom! Come on in,” she says, stepping aside to allow him inside. It doesn’t take long for Beomgyu’s eyes to fall onto the bongs on display. 

“Oh, Mary Jane! You bought me this?” he asks, eyes lighting up as he takes hold of the peachy bong. He examines it as he sits on the sofa. 

Mary Jane feels some shyness come over her as she fidgets with her sleeve. “I, uh, actually made it,” she explains with a soft smile. 

At this, Peach Beomgyu looks at her incredulously. “You can do glass work?” he questions, baffled. 

Mary Jane can only nod as she awkwardly sits next to him. For some reason, being the center of attention right now made her squirm. It was completely irrational, but after the inappropriate thoughts she had just moments ago, she was scared he would somehow sense it. She was terrified he would find out. “Oh, yeah. It’s something I learned from the bakery twirling sugar. Glass is the same…” she trails off awkwardly, unable to meet his eyes. 

Beomgyu assumes she’s just become meek because he’s praising her work, and doesn’t think much else of it. “Well, why don’t we try them out?” he suggests with a smirk. 

Mary Jane blinks. She was certainly more than eager to no longer be sober. “Fuck yeah. I’ll show you how to use it,” she says. And with that, she plucks the peach bong from his hands, heading to the kitchen. She pours some fresh water into the chamber before returning with some weed already ground. 

“Alright, so it’s kind of like smoking a pipe, but bigger,” she chuckles, welcoming the distraction. She packs the bowl, before turning to give him a clear view of what she’s doing. “When you want to take a rip, you cover this hole-” she explains, gesturing to it with her fingers and demonstrating- “and then you put your lips on the mouth piece and inhale. It’s more intense than smoking a joint, though, so keep that in mind.”

Peach Beomgyu slowly nods as he watches. 

“Are you ready?” Mary Jane asks, tilting her head. Peach Beomgyu blushes, but nods, taking the bong into his hands. It really was pretty, he thought. He didn’t want to fuck this up. 

Mary Jane smiles as she helps him, guiding his hands to where they belong. “Alright, put your mouth on. You can breathe through your nose,” she chuckles. Once he does, she flicks her lighter on, lighting the bowl. Steamy smoke begins to billow within the bong, and Mary Jane can’t help but grin excitedly. “Okay, now you can suck it up into your mouth and inhale.”

Beomgyu does as instructed, only to hold it shortly before coughing out a laugh. “Damn, that is different,” he chuckles breathlessly. 

“You did it!” Mary Jane cheers, beaming. Beomgyu takes another rip, holding it much longer now before he exhales, the smoke billowing from his lips. 

“I did,” he drawls with a smirk, passing her the bong. Mary Jane simply blinks for a moment, having imagined using her own. Still, she can’t resist. She swiftly takes the bong herself, taking a long rip before relaxing into the couch with a sigh. “I take it you like these, huh?” Beomgyu murmurs with amusement. Mary Jane only nods. 

The two continue like that until the bowl is all gone, melting into puddles on the couch. She begins to repack the bowl, mostly moving out of muscle memory. In her daze, mind left to her own devices, Mary Jane can’t help glancing over at Beomgyu. She doesn’t notice when she freezes in place. Beomgyu really was incredibly handsome. The straight slope of his nose, the way his eyelashes feather his cheeks (especially when he could barely keep his eyes open like now), his soft lips. She doesn’t even realize she’s staring until he calls her out. 

“Hey, Mary Jane? Earth to Mary Jane?” he drawls with a smirk, snapping her out of it. Mary Jane hums, perking up at attention. “What are you thinking about? You got all zoned out staring at me.”

Mary Jane feels her cheeks burn, turning to light the bowl. “Snacks. I’m starting to get the munchies,” she jokes, lying with ease. “I like to eat, you know…” she trails off with a playful look, gazing down at her plump body before looking back at him. She then lifts the bong to her lips. 

“Nothing wrong with that. Bet if I had a better appetite I’d have a lot more energy,” he chuckles, but Mary Jane doesn’t miss the way his gaze lingers on her figure. She was definitely curvy, large chest and round belly obvious with her form-fitting top. Not that he minded. He loved how plush and squishy she was when she had held him the day they met.

“That’s fair enough. I think the energy might be wasted on a lazy stoner like me, though,” she retorts, smoke let loose with every word. Though there’s something between them now, some elephant in the room. Mary Jane doesn’t know if it’s just the purple haze, or wishful thinking, but the air feels different now that she's noticed his gaze. 

“Nothing is wasted on you,” Beomgyu says automatically. Mary Jane’s eyes widen. She quickly searches his face, only for him to blush when he feels her examine him. “What?” he murmurs, much more softly. 

“Nothing. That was just really sweet. And I don’t know… something just feels different…” she answers quietly. Mary Jane was a lot of things, but tight-lipped wasn’t really one of them. She hated silence, she hated walking on egg shells, she hated ignoring tension. 

“Different how?” Beomgyu asks, a hint of trepidation in his voice. 

Mary Jane can’t help but sigh, giving him an earnest look. “You really want to know?” she questions, peering back at him skeptically. 

“...Well, now I’m nervous. But yeah,” he answers quietly, honest. 

“I find you attractive,” she confesses bluntly, looking back at him with a simple gaze. Beomgyu almost chokes on a breath. For a short moment, he just looks back into her eyes. Maybe Mary was wrong- maybe his gaze didn’t linger. Maybe she imagined it. He doesn’t say anything at first, wordlessly taking his bong back for another rip. Mary Jane watches him in silence as his eyes flutter shut, little clouds of white slipping from his mouth. “...Beomgyu?” Mary Jane murmurs tentatively, tilting her head. 

“Hmmm?” Beomgyu hums lazily, eyes slowly blinking open. 

“I’m interested in you. I guess I didn’t really ask anything, but I thought you might comment,” she chuckles. Despite the blush on her cheeks and the way her heart fluttered, she still lets out a little joke as if she weren’t shaking in her boots. 

“Oh, yeah…” he murmurs, blinking slowly as he gives her a once over. “You’re pretty cute yourself.” Mary Jane can’t really read his expression. After burying all his time in books, he wasn’t very skilled with flirting. Still, she smiles at his compliment. 

“Yeah? Just cute?” she murmurs with a smirk, plucking the bong from his hands once more to have some more herself. Once she inhales, she sets the bong down. “How cute?” she teases, leaning in with that same smirk, smoke escaping her nose. 

Beomgyu gulps. She looked like a sexy dragon sizing him up. It only made him feel even smaller and more helpless under her gaze. “...uh, very?” he mumbles, almost inaudible. As Mary watches him fluster, she’s only emboldened more. The high alleviates some of her inhibitions, and she’s more playful than usual.

She takes a hit without ever taking her eyes off of him, before leaning closer. “Cute enough to kiss?” she purrs, lips hovering mere inches from his. The scent of the warm smoke brushing against his lips makes his breath hitch. It’s all Beomgyu can do to nod, cheeks nearly flushed scarlet. When his eyes drift down to her lips, snake bites glinting in the light, Mary Jane realizes he likes them. And with that, she captures his lips in hers, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. 

She pulls back with a satisfied smirk, reclining against the couch cushions as she keeps her gaze intent on him. He lets out a shaky breath, the smoke slowly slipping past his parted lips. He just looked stunned, as if nothing were going on in that head of his. Frozen in place, he watched her with doe eyes. “Maybe next time we get high, baby,” she begins, looking at him with darker eyes, “I can take care of you. Make you feel good when your body isn’t hurting, hun. But sober you will have to decide on that,” she asserts.

Beomgyu feels a shiver course through him, face burning more than the hot smoke in his lungs. Take care of him? His body? He almost couldn’t wrap his head around what she was suggesting. Still, she was pretty, and it was hard to say no. He quietly nods, peering back at her like a puppy. Shit, he was supposed to smart. This stupid fucking weed was making him dumb. “...okay. I’ll think about it.”

-

It’s not until the following day, when Beomgyu has sobered up, that Mary Jane hears from him. “Hello?”

“Mary Jane?” a voice calls from the other side. She’d recognize that voice anywhere at this point. 

“Yeah?” 

He’s quiet for a bit, trying to pick the right words. “I… I’m sober now,” ends up being what slips out.

Mary Jane chuckles. “I should hope so,” she jokes smoothly, ignoring the quickening pace of her heart. “What does sober Beomgyu have to say?”

“...I want to try it,” he murmurs shyly, almost a mumble. He doesn’t know why it’s so hard to get the words out, she can’t even see him. But her voice alone was enough to make him weak in the knees.

Mary Jane is silent for a moment. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you, baby,” she clarifies, slipping the pet name out to sober him for the first time without thinking. 

It makes his heart do a flip. “Yeah, I’m sure. You introduced me to new things before… I trust you,” he says automatically, the words seeming to come back to him. Mary Jane can’t help but smirk to herself. Maybe he really did want this. 

“Alright, Beom. Bring an overnight bag and I can take care of you tonight,” she instructs, and Beomgyu instinctively nods. She can’t even see him; what is he doing? 

“Okay. Tonight?” he murmurs, voice still a bit shaky. Mary Jane can just imagine him fidgeting with his sleeves on the other side of the phone. 

“Tonight.”

-

Beomgyu fusses with his hair as he stands on her doorstep that evening, procrastinating knocking. He felt like this girl might eat him alive. She was ostracized from the village for a reason... but the way she made him feel, as if blending into a blissful harmony with the world around him in a way he never had before, was too tempting to resist. He never felt unsafe around Mary Jane, only nervous about the unknown.

Finally, he musters up the courage to knock.

"Beom!" Mary Jane beams, eyes lit up with excitement as she throws open the door. "You came."

"Mary Jane," he mirrors with a smile, "I did." He follows her into the cottage, putting his bag down by the couch.

"So, have you eaten dinner already, hun?" Mary drawls, already halfway to the kitchen.

"Ah! No, not yet..." he explains sheepishly, gently scratching the side of his neck.

Mary Jane smirks. "Well, lucky for you, I have prepared a fabulous meal," she declares playfully, mimicking a posh accent. It isn't even that funny on its own, but something about Mary's unapologetic corniness was endearing. Beomgyu can't help letting a chuckle slip.

"Well, I'd be honored," he responds softly, playing along. He follows Mary Jane to the kitchen, helping bring the dishes and silverware to the table. "You didn't cook weed in any of this, did you?"

Mary Jane laughs. "No, no, that's for dessert," she jokes. She carefully carries her pot of spaghetti to the table, oven mitts shielding her hands.

"More of your infamous brownies? I can't believe you ever gave one of those to Blueberry Kai," he teases, setting their places. Mary Jane scoffs, jaw dropping in a scandalized smile as she takes her spot opposite him.

"I didn't realize that if I don't wear gloves, everything I bake gets contaminated with weed! It wasn't on purpose!" she insists, placing her oven mitts aside.

"Likely story," Beomgyu murmurs with a smirk, eyeing her skeptically. "Are you sure you didn't just want to get someone else hooked so you can have stoner friends?"

Mary Jane's jaw drops into that baffled grin again, a sputtering sound of disbelief slipping past her lips. "You're a stoner too, now! I hope you remember that!" she retorts.

"Yeah, and it's all because you groomed me to be," he teases again, now just happy to push her buttons. Mary Jane just scoffs, rising from her seat to serve them both a good amount of spaghetti.

"Don't tempt me. If you keep treating me like a criminal, I might as well have the fun of enjoying the crime," she smirks, sitting back down with a satisfied grin and a glimmer in her eye. Suddenly, Beomgyu felt a shiver go down his spine.

"F-fine..." he stutters, a bit thrown by her flirty look. He quickly shovels some spaghetti in his mouth, eyes settled on his plate rather than her.

"You can dish it but you can't take it, huh?" Mary giggles, taking a bite of her own. Beomgyu looks back at her with a slight blush, shaking his head.

The two continue to eat their respective meals in silence for a bit, until Mary Jane remembers their earlier conversation. "Hey, Beomgyu," she whispers, quieter than before.

He hums, lifting his head to look back at her with clueless eyes.

"You said I could take care of you tonight. You know what I meant, right?" she asks, looking back at him plainly. "I meant sex."

Beomgyu sputters again, nearly choking on the bit of spaghetti still in his mouth. He's certain that the tips of his ears are glowing red now. He grimaces with his lips in a tight line, nodding as a strangled "mhm" sounds from his throat.

Mary Jane can't help but chuckle at his reaction. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure... You were high when I suggested it," she jokes, shrugging. She takes her plate then, standing and carrying it off to the sink.

Beomgyu scarfs down the rest of his meal before following her meekly, trying his best to ignore his burning face. "Thank you," Mary Jane smiles, carefully taking his plate to wash off alongside her own.

"I should thank you... You're the one who made me dinner," he murmurs softly, reaching over to try and take the sponge. Mary Jane tsks, pushing him aside with her shoulder.

"You're a guest. It's two plates and a pot, I can manage," she reassures with a chuckle, before gesturing with a flick of her head. "Go ahead and have a brownie. Treat time," she smirks.

Peach Beomgyu certainly won't turn down an intoxicating treat. He takes one of the brownies sitting on the counter, letting out a happy sigh after his first bite. It doesn't take long for Mary Jane to finish up the dishes and have one as well.

-

"Let's go get ready for bed," she suggests, giving Beomgyu a questioning look to which he simply nods.

Peach Beomgyu grabs his cute duffel bag, peachy-pink like everything else he owns, and follows Mary Jane down the hall to her room. "Ah, where's your bathroom..?" Beomgyu asks meekly.

"Right here, first door on the left," she explains with a soft smile. Beomgyu nods gratefully, slipping inside with his things.

Mary Jane makes it the rest of the way to her room, butterflies settling in her chest. Beomgyu brought his bag into the bathroom with him, so he must be getting ready. He'd probably be gone long enough for her to get changed into pajamas of her own.

Mary Jane grabs a sheer purple nightie, lacy trim on the edges. In reality, she never wears cute shit like this to bed- who did? But Beomgyu didn't have to know that she normally slept in a huge tee and ratty old sweatpants. Those weren't so sexy. Tonight, she'd look at least a little alluring. Hopefully.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu is having his own wardrobe doubts in the bathroom. He was in completely regular pajamas- a white tank top and plaid pajama bottoms. But still, he couldn't help his shyness. Beomgyu nearly always wore long sleeves and covered as much skin as possible for fear of his bruises attracting unwanted attention. As he looks himself in the mirror, so many conflicting feelings come bubbling to the surface of his gut. He gulps, steeling himself to exit the bathroom.

When Mary Jane hears the door open, she looks up with excitement, only to be met with the vulnerable look in Beomgyu's eyes. She can hardly take it- it's like her heart is clenched in his fist. She immediately coos. "Oh, Beom, come here," she whispers, perched atop her bed.

Beomgyu blushes as he sees her body veiled in lilac, plump and round. He nods, hesitating for a moment before closing the distance to join her. It doesn't take any time at all for Mary Jane to open her arms to him, pulling him up against her.

Beomgyu lets out a shaky breath. "Sorry, I just... don't let people see the bruises much," he confesses in a whisper. Mary Jane nods, gently petting his hair as he settles in her hold.

"You're very handsome. I'm pretty lucky to have the viewing pleasure," she reassures in a playful whisper. Beomgyu can't help but chuckle at her flirty words.

"Leave it to you to hit on me at such a moment," he snarks. Still, it's a bit hard to keep his head straight at this point. The brownie is starting to kick in, blood abuzz. He instinctively nuzzles his face into her shoulder as he leans against her, the sensation of her silky skin against his fuzzy cheek pleasant. Her large breasts are nearly an inch from his face, and he's trying really hard to ignore that fact and not freak out.

Mary Jane giggles. "Maybe if you saw yourself the way I do, you'd understand how hard it is to keep my mouth shut," she whispers, gently stroking his back. She smiles down at him, his pretty brown eyes magnetic. "But I suppose I could show you..?" she suggests softly.

Peach Beomgyu blushes at her cheeky suggestion, gulping once more. He looks up at her with a curious gaze, head still resting atop her shoulder. "Show me?" he repeats under his breath.

Mary Jane nods, smiling sweetly despite the darker spark in her eyes. "Did the edible hit, baby? How do you feel?" she whispers, glancing down to his bruised arm. She gently caresses the spot, carefully gauging his reaction. "Does it hurt?"

Beomgyu shakes his head, sucking in a shaky breath. "No... not sore," he whispers.

That's all Mary Jane needs to hear, swiftly lowering him onto his back so he's reclining atop her pillows. Beomgyu's breath hitches as he's nearly manhandled by the smaller woman, though she's probably twice his weight. Maybe she's really just shorter.

Mary Jane giggles when as she notices his stunned reaction. "Relax, baby. Just gonna make you feel good," she murmurs comfortingly, moving in to lay beside him. Beomgyu gulps again, but nods.

Once he's relaxed a bit more, Mary Jane leans in to begin trailing kisses down his jaw. She hums, the soft scent of peaches surrounding her as she drags her lips over his skin. "You're much sweeter than me," she whispers, lips curled up in a grin as her path leads her to his sensitive neck. His peach fuzz stands at end, a shaky gasp escaping his throat.

"Mary Jane..." he whispers, hands instinctively lifting up to hold onto her by his side. She doesn't let up, continuing to trail gentle, loving kisses along his flesh.

She can't help but giggle at his half-hearted protest. "What? It's true! Peaches smell better than pot," she teases, kissing her way down to the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Beomgyu can only groan, too weak to protest in his dazed state. The combination of the high dizzying his mind and the overwhelming sensations of her playing with some of the most sensitive spots on his body is simply too much to bear.

Mary Jane hums in response, making her way down his shoulder. Beomgyu is hardly paying attention to what she's doing, just along for the ride. Mary Jane coats him in kisses, making her way from one bruise to the next, gently worshiping his marred skin. "You're gorgeous," she whispers sweet praises, taking her time to appreciate every piece of him. The high heightens every sensation, each touch all Beomgyu can comprehend in his daze.

By the time she reaches his hand, trailing kisses over his knuckles one by one, Beomgyu can't help but whimper. No one has ever spoiled him with this much attention before.

Mary Jane smiles, peering back at his face with loving eyes. "What is it, baby? Am I going too slow?" she whispers, unabashed affection in her eyes. It makes his heart skip a beat as he swallows.

"N-no... I just... I didn't think you'd be so sweet..." he mumbles, shyly averting his gaze. Mary Jane was normally so playful and cheeky, and here she was doting on him like he were the most precious man in the world.

Mary Jane can't help but laugh at his words. "I can be mean?" she whispers with a teasing look, to which Beomgyu's eyes widen. He frantically shakes his head. "That's what I thought," she finishes with a smirk.

Once she finishes pressing little pecks to the tips of each of his fingers, she swiftly moves to straddle his lap. "No pain?" she whispers, to which he nods. She carefully rests his arm on the bed once more before lifting its opposite, starting from the tips of his fingers to kiss her way back up his body. Beomgyu shivers as her soft lips trace his body, a shaky breath escaping him. Mary Jane hums with pleasure while mapping his body.

Eventually Mary Jane has made it all the way back to his neck. She presses her lips beneath his jaw, caressing his skin lovingly. Beomgyu sighs, eyes fluttering open to give her a pleading look. Mary Jane nearly freezes when she sees it. Still, she's determined to do this properly. She kisses her way along his jaw and cheek to complete her path before finally giving him what he wants.

Mary Jane captures his lips in hers, the sudden action after all the anticipation stunning Beomgyu for a moment. It takes a second for his dazed mind to catch up to whats happening, to which he finally returns her kiss, arms slipping up around her waist. Mary Jane can't help but sigh against his lips, relaxing into his arms.

Beomgyu feels his stomach do a little flip when she hears her breathy sigh. The sound was so intimate, soft, vulnerable. He instinctively kisses her with greater need, and it doesn't take long for Mary Jane to catch on and part her lips. "Damn, baby," she purrs between kisses, softly licking at his bottom lip. Beomgyu can only groan in response.

The sound makes Mary Jane's eyes darken as a possessive sort of hunger flares up inside her. Fuck, his voice sounded hot. Once allowed entrance to his mouth, her tongue curls around his. She's greedy for dominance, and Beomgyu doesn't seem to care, just soaking it all up. At the feeling of her tongue dancing with his, Beomgyu lets out moan, slowly losing his inhibitions as the weed and lust cloud his mind.

If Mary Jane wasn't wet before, she certainly was now. She groans, quickly breaking their kiss to hastily undress him. "Let me take this off?" she whispers, breath heavy as she pulls back to grab the hem of his tank top. Beomgyu gulps, simply nodding with red cheeks and parted lips.

Mary Jane wants to rip the damned garment off, but she is too smart for that. She couldn't hurt Beomgyu. So she instead carefully removes it from his body, helping him shimmy out of it with her jaw set. It was taking all her self control not to pounce on him completely, and she wondered if he knew it. Once he's left bare, tender chest and bruised side visible, Mary Jane can't help but curse. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," she sighs, gently kissing each newly exposed bruise.

Beomgyu blushes as he opens his mouth to speak, only to gasp when she licks a stripe up his chest. It was much lewder than the delicate kisses of before, and he shudders. "Oh, Jesus, Mary Jane," he pleads softly, holding her a bit tighter. Mary Jane feels his cock twitch beneath her, and it only spurs her on further.

At this point, Mary Jane's mind is blank, simply indulging in her impulses. She licks and sucks at his skin, leaving little hickeys to bloom across his chest. He can feel the vibrations of her hums through his skin. At a particularly harsh suck, Beomgyu whimpers, hips stuttering beneath her. "Fuck, baby, you taste like heaven," she whispers against his skin, finally climbing off his lap to begin her descent.

It takes all of Beomgyu's self control not to squirm as her searing hot lips trail down his abdomen. At this point he's perpetually breathless, panting beneath her touch. "Mary Jane, please..." he begs softly, the lack of friction where he needs it beginning to ache.

"Relax baby, I've got you," she whispers, finally making her way down to his waistband. "May I?" she asks, meeting his eyes. When he nods clumsily, she helps him kick his pants and boxers right off, hard dick slapping his stomach. Her mouth is already watering at the sight.

"Fuck, look at this cute cock," she purrs, carefully taking him into her hand. Pretty pink tip and swollen with need, she wants to taste him right there. So she does.

Beomgyu lets out a soft cry when Mary Jane licks his tip, quickly grabbing onto her hair. "Mary!"

Mary Jane can't help but giggle as he squirms beneath her. "Sorry, baby, you taste like peaches and cream," she whispers, pressing an affectionate peck to his tip before releasing him. She moves to straddle his hips once more, hovering over his lap. "Don't want you to hate this wonderful body of yours anymore," she sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead.

Beomgyu doesn't know whether to laugh or cry when she ambushes him with such sweet words after saying something so filthy. His hands settle on her hips as he peers back up at her with blown-out eyes. "I... I won't..." he whispers, gulping.

Mary Jane smiles, nodding. After a moment, she lifts herself up a bit, slipping off her panties. Beomgyu gulps. "Mary Jane... you're sure?" he whispers, searching her eyes. Mary Jane's heart immediately melts. She was the one taking him, and he was still trying to make sure.

"More certain than I've ever been," she whispers, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "Want to milk that pretty cock of yours, baby," she purrs against his lips, explicit words in contrast of her sickeningly sweet tone. All Beomgyu can do is gulp and whimper while he feels his cock throb. "Are you sure?"

Peach Beomgyu nods, face flushed scarlet. "Yeah," he whispers. "Mary Jane, I want you," he confesses for the first time.

Mary Jane can't help but smirk, his words going straight to her ego. She reaches down to align him with her dripping entrance, eyes locked with his. "Fill me up, baby," she whispers with a lopsided grin, before finally taking him in. Her walls are snug around him as she bottoms out, lower lip drawn between her teeth. Beomgyu lets out a deep moan, head fallen back against the pillows as he squeezes his eyes shut. It takes all his self control not to buck his hips. "Fuck, you fill me up so good."

"Please move," Beomgyu whimpers, fingers digging into her hips as he struggles to stay still. Mary Jane can't help but giggle as she looks down at him. She had this effect on him? It was too good to be true. Experimentally, she softly rolls her hips, gaze intent on his face as she toys with him. Beomgyu's hips stutter in response as he whimpers, hazy eyes slowly fluttering open to give her a pleading look.

Those puppy eyes were her weakness.

"Don't worry baby, I've got you," she coos, resting her hands on his shoulders to brace herself before she rides him. Her purple nightie sways with her movements, though the sheer material leaves nothing to the imagination. Her large breasts bounce as she finds a rhythm, walls fluttering around him. At this point, he's crossfaded- high and pussy-drunk.

Wanton, unrestricted moans fill the cottage as the two chase their high. Beomgyu gradually begins to meet her movements, hitting Mary Jane at a new angle that makes her see stars. "Fuck!" she gasps, walls clamping down around him. The bed creaks with each move of their joined hips.

"Mary Jane, I'm-" Beomgyu starts, but she doesn't need to hear a syllable more before she interrupts.

"Cum, baby, fill me up," she commands, voice stern and commanding despite being strained from breathlessness. Beomgyu whimpers, nearly there.

Determined to take him over the threshold, Mary Jane leans in, capturing his lips in hers. She sucks on his tongue, swallowing his moans as their movements reach a crescendo. It doesn't take more than a couple more thrusts for Beomgyu to burst.

A flood of warmth fills Mary Jane and she shudders, the sensation of his release bringing her ecstasy. But even more than that, it's the whine that escapes Beomgyu with his release that breaks her. With a deep guttural moan from within her chest Mary Jane reaches her peak, walls pulsing and fluttering around Beomgyu's sensitive cock. The two ride out their overlapping highs, hips clumsy. Their foreheads fall together as they part for air, equally panting.

Waves of euphoria pass through them both before the exertion catches up to them. Mary Jane slumps atop Beomgyu with a shudder, slowly catching her breath.

"Holy shit," Beomgyu whispers. Mary Jane opens her eyes just to see his beautiful post-orgasm glow, fucked-out expression on his face. She can't help but grin.

"You look so fucking delicious," she whispers, voice a little hoarse from their previous activity.

Beomgyu would blush at the praise if he weren't already beet red. "So do you," he whispers.

Mary Jane slowly sits up again, hissing as she climbs off his lap. The emptiness is immediately upsetting, but she can't keep him forever. Slowly she slips her hand beneath her dress, fingers swiping up some of his peachy release. She licks her fingers clean with a hum of satisfaction, relaxing atop his lap.

Beomgyu groans at the sight. She had no shame.

-

authors note: idk how did i do guys? should i never write smut again? did you jerk off to this? did any of my shitty jokes land? happy new year. if i find any mistakes or typos i might edit the post. gonna go get high now

[demispark]

I Swear Mickey Did Not Abandon a Woman in Hell For Over A Decade (In Defense of Kingdom Heart's Mickey Mouse)

Excellent question! @notbrucewayne48 and @mintchocolatemagic , Mickey Mouse did not do anything wrong, and I will explain why.

Firstly, please leave you The Walt Disney Company-based opinions of Mickey by the door. If you have negative opinions of Mickey as a result of him being the mascot of an evil all-consuming corporation, those don't really apply here. Mickey Mouse, in Kingdom Hearts, is the king of Disney Castle and a talented Keyblade Wielder.

People seem to have a lot of animosity towards Mickey Mouse in Kingdom Hearts. Maybe its because his reputation has been ruined by the corporation he represents, I can't say for sure. It's fine if you don't like the guy or think he's annoying, but it personally grates on my nerves when people let that color his depiction and actions in the Kingdom Hearts franchise.

This post ended up pretty long, so if this is way too long of a post, I recommend reading the first two paragraphs, watching the video, and reading the last paragraph. Maybe not as good as a TL;DR, but it should give you enough context and understanding without taking up too much of your time.

Beyond this point, SPOILERS for basically the entire Kingdom Hearts series up to KHIII, excluding the mobile games.

To begin with, what am I even on about? That title is a pretty extreme and ridiculous statement, after all. So, here's the plan: I'm going to show you the clip, and then we'll go through the relevant points on the timeline to examine the truth of this claim.

Here is the claim, made by the supposed victim herself: Keyblade Master Aqua.

Aqua claims that Mickey abandoned her in the Realm of Darkness, knowing full well what a decade trapped there would do to her. However, her statements contradict reality at multiple points, likely due to the effects that sustaining an attack filled with darkness and being submerged in the waters of The Dark Margin, as well as the mental toll of being stuck in the Realm of Darkness for over a decade.

To figure out where everything went wrong, let's turn back the clock by about 11 years, to see where this all started.

At the end of Birth By Sleep, a prequel taking place a decade prior to KH1, Aqua is with Mickey in the tower of the wizard Yen Sid. Following the final battle at the Keyblade Graveyard against Master Xehanort and Vanitas (we'll get to them later, don't worry), Aqua and her friends are in bad shape. Aqua was really the only survivor, with Terra going missing and Ventus' heart being shattered, leading it to sleep elsewhere until it could recover (we'll get to them as well). Mickey, Aqua, and Ven were blown away after defeating Vanitas and destroying Xehanort's attempt to forge the X-Blade (Pronounced the same as Keyblade, and good lord we will get to that later), and Mickey brought Aqua and Ven to Yen Sid.

Leaving alone, and not really having told anyone at the tower where she was going, Aqua returns to her old home, the Land of Departure. There, she drops off Ven's sleeping body, and uses the Keyblade of her now-deceased Master to transform the land into a confounding castle that we'll come to know as Castle Oblivion. Following this, she senses Terra's voice and goes to a world called Radiant Garden. It is here that Aqua discovers the truth of Terra's disappearance. Terra had been manipulated throughout his journey to be consumed by darkness, which Xehanort took advantage of. Using his own Keyblade, he removed his heart and sent it into Terra's body, possessing it.

Long story short, Aqua won the fight but failed to free Terra, and he began to sink into the darkness. Aqua dove in after him, using her Keyblade Armor to protect herself and her glider to attempt to get herself and Terra out of the darkness. Realizing that herself and Terra were too heavy and wouldn't make it out in time, Aqua sent Terra ahead with her Keyblade and armor, launching him out of the darkness as she sank into it.

This will be very important later, so remember it, I won't be getting into it in this post, but it will come back later.

This is where she spent the next decade, wandering through the Dark World and the remnants of worlds that had fallen into the darkness, plagued by hallucinations, phantoms, wave after wave of Heartless, and even a dark reflection of herself that pointed out all of her mistakes and gave a voice to all of her intrusive thoughts.

Mickey didn't know where Aqua went, and it isn't easy to just enter the Dark World, so he was not able to find her. Between being the King of a world and training to become a Keyblade Master, he likely didn't have time to look for her forever, either.

Do we see Aqua sitting around waiting for help to come, as she claims? Nope.

... 0.2 - A Fragmentary Passage is an interesting game.

Anyway, silly new accessories aside, we see Aqua traveling though the Realm of Darkness, enduring the previously mentioned hardships. Here, she encounters Mickey, who slipped in via a world that was in the process of falling to darkness. He explains that the worlds are in trouble, and that he is searching for a Keyblade of the darkness, a counterpart to Sora's that will allow them to seal the Door to Darkness.

This coincides with the ending of Kingdom Hearts 1. After battling through more powerful Heartless, Aqua and Mickey see Riku running towards the Door to Darkness, and are beset by a Demon Tide, a powerful storm of basic Heartless known as Shadows. Aqua attempts to hold them off, which allows Mickey and Riku to assist Sora, Donald, and Goofy in sealing the Door from their side. Aqua tells Mickey to go on without her, before losing control of the Demon Tide and getting swept away. Her ending monologue is resolute, however, prepared to face the darkness and act as a guiding light for whomever finds themself trapped in the Realm of Darkness next.

Not only was this Aqua's choice, her sacrifice, but she stood by it. So what happened, and why didn't Mickey return for her immediately? The simple answer is that Mickey had a lot of more urgent things to worry about than assuming a Keyblade Master couldn't take care of themself.

Immediately after this, Mickey needs to look after Riku and get them out of the Realm of Darkness. This leads into Re:Chain of Memories.

Sora and Co. could help, except that they had their memories tampered with, and will spend the next year asleep while false memories are removed and their forgotten memories are put back in place.

Riku has been struggling with the darkness throughout KH1 and Re:CoM, so he isn't in the best place to be thrust back into the darkness.

Over this next year, the threat of creatures called Nobodies and the sinister Organization XII rears its head, and Riku doesn't exactly get better with his darkness.

Forced to rely on the darkness, Riku transforms into the spitting image of the man who used his darkness and possessed him - Ansem, Seeker of Darkness - and this isn't exactly great for his mental state, either.

Sora was weakened by his journey through Castle Oblivion in Re:CoM, and with the threat of the Organization looming, the hero had his work cut out for him before Mickey would even dare asking him for help.

Sora and Riku, who has finally gotten his darkness under control, end up at the Dark Margin by the end of KHII, but do not encounter Aqua there. Since Aqua was not there, the attack that overwhelmed her with darkness and sent her flying into the water that was mentioned earlier must have happened between the final world of KHII and this scene. They manage to escape, and return to the Realm of Light.

Sora and Riku rest back at their home, the Destiny Islands, during the events of Re:Coded, and eventually receive a message from Mickey calling them to Yen Sid's tower. These boys need to get better, hopefully becoming Keyblade Masters, in order to rescue the fallen Keyblade Wielders from their fates and prepare for the upcoming final battle. Dream Drop Distance comes and goes, and Riku is named a Keyblade Master.

Prior to the events of Kingdom Hearts 3, Mickey relays his experience in the Realm of Darkness with Aqua, to which Riku angrily questions why Mickey never told him or attempted a rescue.

You should know the answer to that by now.

Mickey explains that he respected Aqua's wishes, just as he did for Riku in the past, stubbornly refusing to tell Sora anything about his missing friend during KHII, as Riku was dealing with the whole Ansem and darkness thing and made Mickey promise not to tell Sora.

Yen Sid also chimes in, pointing out that if Sora and Riku had found out, they would've recklessly tried to find a way into the Realm of Darkness to stage an ill-fated rescue mission.

Now, however, the time has finally come. Since Mickey's Kingdom Key D is a Keyblade from the Dark Realm, he could use it to enter the Realm of Darkness without having to use the incredibly unreliable and dangerous method of waiting for a world to fall into darkness.

Mickey and Riku suit up in some new darkness-resistant threads made by Yen Sid and the Three Good Fairies (of Sleeping Beauty fame), and set out for the Dark Realm.

This doesn't go well, to say the least, leading to Mickey and Riku's Keyblades being damaged. Mickey's is recovered and used to create the Star Cluster (which Aqua can be seen picking up in the video shown at the beginning of this post), while Riku leaves the pieces of his behind and recieves a brand-new Keyblade.

Second time's the charm, and now we are all caught up to the aforementioned clip from KHIII.

Anti-Aqua happens, Sora shows up via the power of friendship and following his heart (oversimplification, you know KH isn't that simple), and Aqua is finally rescued from this dark hell.

So, to wrap it all up, Mickey very much did not abandon Aqua. Aqua disappeared off the face of the worlds - literally all of them - for ten years, sacrificed herself to protect Mickey, Riku, and the worlds when Mickey finally did find her, and then Mickey simply did not have the time or resources to stage a rescue mission that actually would've worked in the year or two following his original trip in the Realm of Darkness.

Thank you for joining me on this rather long-winded case. I feel like my writing ended up being a little stiff due to all of the recapping I was doing, so if you have any critiques I would love to hear them!

Until next time, may your heart be your guiding key.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

JAN MOIR: What do Charles and William think about the Spencers' very public embrace of Harry which could cast them in cold and unflattering light? by u/Von_und_zu_

JAN MOIR: What do Charles and William think about the Spencers' very public embrace of Harry which could cast them in cold and unflattering light? Witty prose from Jan. Ruddy of face, snowy of hair and thick of calf, the elder Spencers entered the cathedral like a shire farmer and his clan visiting a county fair to give the sugar beets a good old squeeze. \**And do you know what? I'm so very glad they were there for him. It's too sad to think of Harry flying over here, fretfully offsetting his carbon footprint, clutching his little box of medals, thrumming his fingers on his temples, his anxiety levels rising as the dog-bowl threat and the road less travelled rise up to meet him yet again. \**The Spencers don't have to forgive the Sussexes or accommodate their peeved intransigence or just seethe and suck it up. For Prince Harry has no beef with his Uncle Charles, nor has he ever hoisted his sauceboat of hot sulk to pour the usual grievance gravy over lovely Aunt Jane.He hasn't accused either of them, or anyone in their immediate family, of being racists, bullies, sneaks, liars and downright stinking rotters. He hasn't trashed them or betrayed them in books, podcasts or on television interviews watched by millions around the world. He hasn't caused reputational damage to their family, like he has elsewhere, ahem.He even thanked Earl Spencer and Lady Jane in the acknowledgments section of his autobiography, Spare — an honour accorded to absolutely no one in his inner blood circle.So their support was nice, and so was the small, cheering crowd of blimps who turned up for him, too. Not everyone hates Prince Harry for smearing his family — and by extension the entire country — as a racist backwater full of repressive thickos unable to see the bigger picture or wake up and smell the roses, like him and his sainted wife.Speaking of which, such a shame that the Duchess of Sussex was not at Harry's side this week, patting him like a puppy as per, holding his hand, sharing in the dim glow of this rare show of public popularity.Certainly, it is not like Meghan to miss a full on, super-swank opportunity like this; she's usually all over Invictus ceremonies like a regimental mascot on parade. It brings out her inner drum majorette, it gives her a sham regal sheen — so why the unexplained absence?Spencers or no Spencers, the Duchess hasn't got a proper excuse for avoiding the UK this week and the truth is that she doesn't even need one any more. The cavalry has been and gone, the dust has settled and we all know where we stand.Next stop, Nigeria. And I simply cannot wait for that.https://ift.tt/n6WN8AD post link: https://ift.tt/PbJBNfV author: Von_und_zu_ submitted: May 10, 2024 at 04:38AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[innocentcurse]

Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find Maxine Edevane, the 31 year morning show host & (anonymous) radio host originally from Cardinal Hill, WA. Living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they're engaging and precarious, but what you might not know is that they are a human, and that they’re hiding something… ― Hayley Williams, bisexual, woman, and she/her.

Content warnings - death.

Basics -

Full name: Maxine Elsie Edevane

Nickname/s: Max, Maeve Eden Xina (on air alias, no one knows it's her!)

Preferred name/s: Maxine professionally, Max otherwise

Gender: Woman

Pronouns: She/her

Age: Thirty-one

Birthday: November 17th

Zodiac: Scorpio

Magic status: Non-magical, a human

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Morning show host & late-night radio host (unknown to most)

Hometown: Cardinal Hill, WA

Backstory -

Maxine was born and raised in Cardinal Hill, WA, with a reputation shaped by her small town famous father, Richard 'Dick' Edevane, a long-time news anchor.

She grew up under the scrutiny of the higher Cardinal society, as well as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; she was made aware of the importance of having a polished persona and a clean reputation very early in life, though she quickly learnt how to present one way, while being authentically herself elsewhere.

Content warning - death. She lost her mother to illness when Maxine was just 11, an event that deeply affected her emotionally and still influences her actions and relationships.

She has a younger sister with whom she shares a close, supportive relationship, often acting as a mentor and a best friend, whatever she calls for at any given time.

From a young age, Maxine was interested in the dazzling position as a media personality her father had; even while only in a small town like Cardinal Hill, it seemed so fun to Maxine, and it was very quickly made her career goal.

As a young child, Maxine made various appearances in various programs, such as holidays specials, and as an older teen, she secured a position on the morning show in Cardinal Hill.

While raised in a devout Mormon household, Maxine doesn't fully adhere to all the teachings. She has yet to openly challenge the family's religious values, primarily due to her public reputation and her father's expectations, but she makes it known when she can that she doesn't follow all ideals.

Despite her public role as a good, wholesome daughter, she leads a secret double life as an anonymous host of a late-night radio show called the Midnight Confessions of Cardinal Hill, where she uses the alias Maeve Eden Xina. In this persona, she talks openly about town gossip, taboo subjects, relationship advice, and controversial topics that Maxine would never discuss on her mainstream show.

The contrast between her bubbly morning persona and the more outspoken, confident Maeve is a delicate balance that Maxine has perfected over the years; her everyday persona (the Maxine one might meet on the streets) is a perfect middle ground between the two broadcasted versions of her.

Personality & more -

Charismatic and engaging on-air, Maxine can easily capture attention with her clever commentary and quick wit. Off-air, she is down-to-earth and approachable but still carries a certain mystique and exciting charm.

Outspoken and blunt, Maxine is not afraid to speak her mind, though she tends to filter herself when the cameras are rolling, or around certain company. Her off-air persona is spunky, full of energy, and unafraid to embrace controversial topics.

Humorous with a dry, sarcastic edge, Maxine uses humor to navigate life’s challenges, especially in private conversations or during her late-night radio show.

Despite her confident and outspoken demeanour, she struggles with a deep internal conflict, struggling with her mental health and issues she keeps to herself even in settings such as her radio show, where she's the most outspoken and honest.

Loyal and protective of her younger sister, Maxine considers her sister to be her best friend, but she also struggles with trying to not be overbearing and suffocating in her attempts at taking care of her younger sister.

Despite her tough exterior, she is deeply empathetic, taking the time to listen to others’ problems, even if she doesn’t always express her own vulnerability. Maxine values meaningful connections but struggles to open up to people fully.

Maxine's relationship with her father is complicated. While she loves and respects him, she is often haunted by the sense that she is living in his shadow, unable to fully step into her own identity without disappointing him.

Sex and relationships are complicated for Maxine due to the contrast between her private and public lives. On her radio show, she embraces an open, frank approach to these topics, while in public, she feels the need to conform to a more conservative image due to her family's media presence.

She lives for others so very much, despite finding authenticity and expression to be so incredibly important. She doesn't realise how much she puts herself on the back-burner, because her focus on others comes from love.

[rainydaycafe]

A Shaken Espresso, Please

Pairing: Professor! Stephen Strange au x OC fem! graduate school student (and barista)!

Summary: Professor Strange has a reputation that proceeds him and a finicky taste for off-campus coffee. Enter a graduate school attending barista. This is their story.

Warnings: age difference (older Stephen), and an inhumane amount of fluff with tumultuous thoughts

A/N: hope u enjoy and hope it alters ur existence- send me prompt requests for this story or others and I'll kiss u !

Chapter 2

Professor Stephen Strange had many reputations. 

All of them were accurate descriptions of his person, admittedly. Even if a few of them were a bit hyperbolic and created by those students who were unable to properly keep up with the academic rigor his courses demanded. 

Regardless of these various titles- arrogant, belittling, hardass, irritable, impatient, demanding, extremely intelligent, omnipotent, and plenty more- he was a damn good professor. 

There was a reason why every semester he had an extremely long waitlist of students praying for a spot within his lecture hall and plenty of emails of students looking for a reason to jump the waitlist. 

His ability to teach and to demand only the best was something that somewhat masochistic college students sought despite their better judgment because he truly was the best of the best. 

Everyone knew that his reputation was hard earned as it was common knowledge that Stephen Strange had graduated high school and undergrad a year early. Excelling high above his elder peers in medical school and in his internship before there was an accident before his residency matching which caused him to settle into the life of a well respected professor at Dartmouth College. 

Those who can’t do, teach. 

Neuroscience was his playground, and the biological sciences department was just what he needed to teach courses full of the select few who would actually do well in their hopeful careers. 

Despite his intolerance for laziness and inability to understand it- Stephen did enjoy teaching. It was always a plus to inspire the newest generation of the scientific community. 

Emilia, however? 

She was completely oblivious to the very existence of Professor Strange and that reputation that followed him around campus. 

Stepping into Professor Barlow’s office on the third floor of the English department, she expected to receive the weekly quizzes Professor Barlow asked her to grade but instead she received the quizzes and a manilla folder. 

“The manilla folder is more of a favor for me,” Barlow said, “Would you be able to take this to Professor Strange? It’s a transfer request acceptance. Since he’s the head of the biological sciences department, he needs to sign off on the approval like I did,” 

“Oh sure,” Emilia said with a smile, “Where can I find him?” 

“Oh shit what time is it even?” Barlow said pulling up his sleeve, “I don’t really know his schedule but if he’s not in his office on the fourth floor then he’ll preparing a lab, I believe,” 

Emilia told him she’d find him and left Professor Barlow with a wave which he returned. 

Professor Barlow was never meant to be the professor she TA’d for considering the fact that she had rescinded her application to be a TA after obtaining a better job elsewhere but apparently her email went unopened because a week before the semester she was the TA to the head of the English department.

He was kind, however, so she didn’t have the heart to just quit and leave him without a TA for a course he so desperately needed one for. 

So she stayed and she was able to find the balance between her job at the cafe and as a TA quite easily since Professor Barlow wasn’t one to rely on TAs too heavily so she just did the little tasks he asked of her. 

The biological sciences department wasn’t one Emilia had ever actually stepped foot in. Or near. So she had to bring up the campus’ map to find where it actually was which happened to be across campus so she made the trek. 

The elevators happened to be commandeered by busy students so she huffed her way up the stairs and took a bit of a break leaning on a nearby wall to gather her breath because those stairs were no joke. 

For a department so well loved and funded a person would assume their stairs would be less steep somehow. 

Deep inside Emilia hoped he would be in his office because she wasn’t sure where the labs were so it would save her some time to find him somewhere that had a label with his name. 

Now that she thought about it as she read the plaques outside of the doors, she had no idea what the man even looked like so she couldn’t even look for him in the labs…

Before she thought herself into a spiral, she read the name Stephen V. Strange PhD & MD on a plaque. 

What could the V be for? 

StephenVery Strange? That got a bit of a giggle out of her but she straightened up because it wasn’t kind to make fun of the names people had. 

Emilia took a confidence boosting breath and knocked on the shut door. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

“Come in,” a deep voice said and Emilia grimaced a bit before opening the door to reveal a man typing away at his computer, not bothering to even glance up at her which was a bit rude perhaps. 

“Are you here to have me read over your lab report for Navigational and Spatial Orientation?” He asked. 

“Uh- no. I’m here for Professor Barlow. He asked me to bring this over to you,” Emilia said, waiting for him to actually look up from his computer to hand him the folder so she didn’t look like too much of an idiot. 

He did, thankfully, and man was he handsome. 

Taking the envelope, Stephen’s gaze lingered on Emilia, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was being studied and she moved her own gaze elsewhere towards the line of books placed on shelf as he opened the file. 

“Mmm, yes, the student who is transferring his master’s from neurobiology to… English,” Stephen said as his eyes glanced at the words, “I got an email about this and meant to respond but I put it off long enough to just forget,” 

Unsure of what to say, Emilia watched him quietly as he read through the words carefully. He had broad shoulders and nice hair. She quickly snapped herself out of those thoughts. 

“You’re not a biological sciences student, are you?” Stephen asked, looking up from the paperwork to pay her his full attention. 

“No, not at all,” Emilia answered with a shake of her head, feeling a bit nervous. 

“I didn’t think so. I would have recognized you. What are you studying?” Stephen asked curiously as his eyes took in her features. Something about the way she seemed to curl under his attention made him want to give her more. 

“English. I’m working towards my masters in English,” 

“English. I never understood the appeal of sitting around and discussing what Keats meant in this poem or what was implied,” Stephen told her with a bit of a smile as he leaned back in his chair, “Seems like an endless discussion,” 

“It’s not for everyone,” Emilia said with a shrug, not finding herself in the mood to defend her chosen career path. 

It wasn’t the first time someone had spoken ill about her career, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“The sciences never caught your attention?” Stephen asked with genuine curiosity since he couldn’t imagine a life where it hadn’t caught his own full attention. 

Emilia thought for a moment, attempting to find the words without being disrespectful towards Stephen’s career and studies as he observed her and got an eyeful. 

“I was never very good. I barely passed high school chemistry and intro to biology in undergrad,” Emilia confessed, “I also don’t do well with math,” 

Stephen huffed out a bit of a laugh, “You just needed teachers who taught well and thoroughly,” He said as he turned to grab a pen to sign off on the indicated line where Professor Barlow had helpfully highlighted in a bright pink circle he knew was meant to mock. 

Considering the fact Emilia didn’t know how to add fractions or any math after long division, she knew she had always been a lost cause but there was no need to have him think she had even more shortcomings so she kept it to herself.

Shutting the folder, Stephen handed it to her. 

“Tell Barlow that I wish Damien the best of luck reading all of those books and poems,” Stephen said, “He wasn’t up to neuroscience, I suppose it wasn’t for him,” 

Emilia knew he was teasing her own words and despite her strong will to avoid it, she blushed and took the envelope and looked down. 

“I will tell him, Professor. Have a nice day,” Emilia said with a smile and short wave that Stephen returned with amusement in his eyes before taking her leave and all but sprinting down the hallway towards the stairs. 

Going down the steps, Emilia sighed a bit to herself. 

There was something almost damning and humiliating when it came to finding someone unobtainable attractive but then adding the fact that they thought little to nothing of your major was really just the icing on the cake. 

Looking up to the pretty blue sky, Emilia took a deep breath and decided she’d dwell on it while walking to work after dropping off the damn manilla folder to Professor Barlow. 

Unbeknownst to her, Stephen was watching her from the window in his office with a smile as she made her way back to what he assumed was Professor Barlow’s office. 

__________

“He actually signed it right away?” Professor Barlow asked in shock, his freshman English student who he had been helping sat quietly watching the conversation, “He usually takes at least two days and even then I have to chase him around,”

“He also said to tell you that he wishes the best of luck to Damien reading all of the books and poems,” Emilia told him. 

“Yeah that sounds much more like Stephen. Curious that he actually signed it, but maybe he liked someone’s company,” Professor Barlow teased, but Emilia just smiled because she knew there was no way her presence in what had to be a holy office in the biology department would be enjoyed. 

_____________

Pinching the bridge of his nose as he exited the lecture hall, Stephen glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was definitely time for a bit of a caffeine trip because he had not had his morning coffee in favor of tutoring a student. 

With two hours until his next class, he quickly made his way through the building without bothering to glance at anyone in the hall since they’d just serve to make his blossoming headache even worse. 

The on-campus Starbucks and other cafes would be chalked full of students and faculty so he decided his expedition would take him off campus to a smaller yet much more reliable cafe he had discovered the year prior. 

Modern enough to have their own versions of lattes but not enough to be a bit too obsessed with coffee for his liking and comfort. 

It was a 25 minute walk at a leisurely pace but he had never been one to walk leisurely anywhere so he made it in 18 minutes as he ran through his 4pm Ethical Conduct of Research. 

This week they’d be discussing the ethics surrounding research on larger more developed animals to say a rat or a guinea pig. 

Pulling the door open, his eyes quickly attached themselves to the menu to consider his options. 

He had always been partial to a black coffee but had come to the realization that espresso had more impact on him and his energy levels. 

Their shaken espressos had always got him through even the most tiresome of days so he thought it’d be unwise to stray. 

As Stephen was so busy weighing out his flavor options, he didn’t notice who was standing behind the bar munching away on a banana as she read through her weekly reading for Comparative Lit and Criticism during some down time. 

Attempting to make sense of Adorno’s criticisms, Emilia was completely focused but she was soon losing her focus when she heard a familiar voice ordering. 

A voice she had heard a few hours ago. 

“Hello, could I have a large chocolate malt shaken espresso? I’ll add a splash of half and half as well,” Emilia stared at him from over the edge of her reading to see Professor Strange ordering. 

Hoping he wouldn’t notice her at all, Emilia kept her head down as Eliza wrote down “Stephen” on the cup and she began pulling the shots of espresso from the large machine. 

Taking the cup from her coworker, Emilia began to work on the drink and willed herself to not even spare Professor Strange a glance because she didn’t want to gather any unwanted attention. 

Thankfully it seemed that he was busy on his phone so she relaxed a bit as she gathered the ice into the shaker alongside the malt powder. 

Stephen however was not an oblivious man which meant after he had checked his work email he looked up to see the barista was utterly familiar. 

The same girl from earlier was working here, as fate had it. He still didn’t know her name, however, as she hadn’t introduced herself and he couldn’t see a nametag on her apron. 

Smiling to himself, Stephen moved closer to the bar where she shook the espresso and ice together with her back to him before turning around, startling when she saw him there. 

“I had no idea you worked here,” Stephen said casually watching her ministrations. 

“Yeah, I’m a modern day jack of all trades,” She said without thinking, pausing when she realized, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude. It was more of a joke,”

“I didn’t think it was rude,” Stephen reassured, “I don’t see a nametag and I didn’t get your name earlier,” 

Pouring the drink into the cup, she glanced up at him with a smile before looking back down, “Emilia,”

“Emilia?...” Stephen asked beckoning for her last name. 

“Pearson. Emilia Pearson,” Emilia filled in before glancing at the cup where h/h was written, “Did you also want milk or just a splash of half and half?” 

“Just half and half, please,” 

Stephen smiled as she grabbed the half and half from a fridge somewhere underneath the counter and poured some in, showing it to him to see if it was enough. 

“That’s perfect,” 

Snapping a lid onto his drink, Emilia willed any caffeine loving God to make the drink good so he didn’t have any other reason to think little of her. 

Stephen swirled the drink around before taking a sip, giving an appreciative nod. 

“This is delicious, thank you, Emilia Pearson,” He said genuinely, “Have a nice day,” 

Waving bye, Emilia watched as he took his exit and she soon turned her attention back to her reading and banana, but her mind was elsewhere. 

She would have sworn that it was like a curse she had to find people that would never give her a second look attractive. 

It reminded her of having a crush on a celebrity that would never bat an eye if they crossed paths with you in real life. But it never hurt to have celebrity crushes either, nobody was at fault for them being so damn attractive. 

It was impossible to deny that the man was handsome, though. His intelligence was evident, adding to his overall attractiveness and she had barely learned of his existence today so she did not want to imagine how bad her crush would be in a few weeks. 

However she knew she could be grateful that she would probably never encounter him again and that she was probably a piece of dust in his overall busy mind and life. 

Of course there was going to be the off chance of encountering him again when he came around to the cafe, but there was no point in getting her hopes up so she turned her attention back to the reading entirely since she had a discussion post to answer before midnight. 

As she didn’t think of him, Stephen pressed the crosswalk button as he took a sip from his coffee and smiled to himself. 

With his work and his overall attitude towards romance Stephen had never been too caught up on dating or finding a partner as he hadn’t ever considered it and it had never been at the forefront of his mind. 

Which isn’t to say he was considering dating Emilia, but as he crossed the street he wondered to himself if she happened to have a boyfriend or girlfriend to whom she went home to. Someone she confided in and felt relaxed around. 

He didn’t think he’d mind being that person either as he began running through the upcoming lecture he had to give, knowing he’d be receiving emails requesting clarifications on this and that. 

____

The following day was normal and Emilia was grateful as she corrected freshman English quizzes during the gap she had between lectures. 

While it wasn’t too fun having three lectures back to back on Thursdays, the gap between the second and third gave her a chance to finish off assignments. Plus it freed up her Fridays so it meant she was able to work 7-4 and have the weekends off. 

Considering the fact that the quizzes she had graded were pop quizzes given as punishment for speaking when Professor Barlow was speaking, she didn’t think they were all that bad. 

In less than an hour she had finished the quizzes alongside the notes Professor Barlow liked to add either commemorating students for doing well or giving some bit of advice if they didn’t do too hot. 

After the quizzes she felt she was on the brink of starvation so she quickly threw together a salad while blasting music as she sang around her kitchen and waited for the chicken to finish up in the oven. 

“Green eyes, fried rice, I could cook an egg on you,” Emilia sang along as she danced around her kitchen, Late night, game time, coffee on the stove, yeah,” 

Sure her kitchen dance moves could use a bit of work but considering the fact that they had never seen the light of day as she had only ever gone to a club once, she thought they were pretty fitting for Music For a Sushi Restaurant

Pausing, she pulled out the chicken and thought about whether Stephen ever danced around his kitchen but chose to push those thoughts aside because one: she didn’t think he seemed like the dancing type, and two: those thoughts wouldn’t lead to a good outcome. 

All said and done, she was comfortably in bed relaxing by 9:30 scrolling through her phone after having checked multiple times that her front door was in fact locked and that it hadn’t magically unlocked itself. 

Living alone was nice, subletting was even nicer when she didn’t have to pay the full amount of rent and she got to live only a few blocks off campus and only three and a half away from the cafe where she felt she spent an equal amount of time. 

Waking up wasn’t ever an enjoyable experience- save for when there was something exciting happening but that rarely if ever happened so Friday morning made her wish she could just roll over and continue sleeping through the morning and into the early afternoon. 

However her job awaited and all things considered, she really did enjoy paying for life’s necessities. 

Despite her lack of enthusiasm, Emilia showed up that Friday and went about her job without too much hassle throughout the morning bustle that eventually weaned itself out into a much more manageable afternoon hum. 

The morning rush was always heavier on Fridays which kept her busy since Maggie, the owner, was manning the pastry and sandwich area and Nora was on cashier Emilia was on her own but at least the rushes made her shift go by faster. 

Her busyness meant she went about making drinks without bothering to think about them too much unless they had an alteration which she made a mental note about to avoid having someone practically slam themselves into the counter because God forbid there was too much ice in their latte. 

Not even a large, malt chocolate shaken espresso with a splash of half and half. 

“Stephen?” Emilia called out, sliding the coffee onto the pickup counter before her thoughts stuttered as it put together the drink and name. 

Looking up for what had to be the first time in at least half an hour, she saw Professor Strange heading over to the pickup bar. 

He had been watching her busily make drink after drink, calling out name after name, not glancing up for a second. 

“Professor. Hi. Hi Professor,” Emilia said dumbly. 

“Hi Emilia,” Stephen greeted, “Your hair looks nice today,” He noted her hair which was pulled back in two… French? Braids aside from a few strands which framed her face nicely. 

“Oh. Thank you. I like your uh- I like your pants,” Mentally, Emilia slapped herself. 

Complimenting pants was for the girls, not the guys. 

“Well thank you, I didn’t know you could see them over this glass you can barely see over,” He teased her shorter stature and she smiled a genuine smile before apologizing. 

“Sorry, it was the first thing which came to mind but I’m sure they are nice,” Emilia said as she walked over to grab another cup her coworker had kindly placed on the cup when Stephen’s next words were interrupted by a woman rushing up to the counter. 

“Excuse me, sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you two but I forgot to ask for oat milk on my caramel latte. I’ll get back in line to pay for it but I wanted to let you know before you make it,” A woman said from behind him, causing him to move away. 

“Is it for Stacy?” Emilia asked and the woman nodded, “Okay, I’ll make it with oat milk but you don’t have to pay, it’s okay,” She told her as she waved it off and wrote the change of the order on the cup. 

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the line had decreased and it was only the person left who was ordering aside from a couple of drinks left for those waiting. 

“Did you like your drink?” Emilia asked as she turned her attention back to him, “If you didn’t I can remake it. I didn’t know it was for you or else I would have paid more mind to it,” 

Sipping it again, he shrugged. 

“It’s good, but I can tell it wasn’t made with love like it was on Wednesday,” 

“Let me remake it-” Emilia started but he cut her off. 

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” Stephen said with a grin, “It’s grand. Brilliant. You’re a lovely barista even when you don’t know it’s for me,” 

Unable to find something to say, Emilia smiled bashfully and attempted to conceal her flustered complexion but Stephen was quick to see it. 

“I have an undergrad intro course to teach in forty minutes, so I’ll see you soon,” Stephen explained as he glanced at his watch after feeling he had tortured Emilia enough but the flush on her cheeks was something he thought was cute. Sue him. 

“Have a nice day, Professor Strange,” Emilia wished, and he wished her the same as he left with a smile. 

The slight pep in his step made even the most tedious of courses seem not so bad since his coffee was great and he just felt giddy. 

Emilia continued working, but every so often her thoughts would flutter off to Steph- Professor Strange and his presence in front of the bar that morning. 

It had left quite the imprint on her mind and she couldn’t deny that. 

However when she found herself getting a bit carried away with her thoughts and mentally admiring him for any reason, she caught herself and chastised herself for it. 

Not only was the man a professor at the university she attended, she also knew well enough that she had absolutely no chance with him. 

He was a professional and apparently in a league of his own so he wasn’t about to go around scraping the bottom of the barrel to date her or even consider dating her. It was useless to even think about it because it would only serve to disappoint her. 

Professor Strange would never even think about her in such a way, she was just fooling herself with these tiny spurts of thought. 

It wasn’t even funny to think about how little chance she actually stood. 

But regardless, she still found herself smiling to herself when she thought about his smile and his teasing comments. 

Work went by just a bit faster with that, and Emilia was grateful she was able to enjoy her weekend without a shift dragging on too much. 

__________________

All things considered, Stephen did enjoy his profession. Regardless of the seemingly painstaking hours, faculty, and students it was truly as close to his dream as he would be able to get and it was one which commanded respect nonetheless. 

Academia had never been his initial pursuit since right out of high school he did everything he could to be admitted into his top choice of medical school with as little delay as possible. 

This was possible with both his work ethic and his eidetic memory at play, setting him well ahead of his peers and setting a good yet arrogant head on his shoulders because he was more than capable of succeeding in the medical world. 

Internship had flown by, and as he had known since he was fourteen- he was meant to be in the neuroscience speciality specifically as a neurosurgeon. 

That was until his car was flipped over at the age of 29 and his entire life was also flipped on its head like he found himself that Wednesday afternoon on his way to buy groceries. 

Oftentimes when the accident had just happened and he was in recovery unable to bear the thought of looking at his hands he thought about what would have happened if he had just stayed home and made a sandwich with what was there. 

But, like anything, it wasn’t enough and he needed more than what was already there. 

Stephen knew that his accident sent a shock through everyone and he was soon in physical therapy attempting to overcome a tremor when he began deciding what was next. 

Never having been wealthy, he needed to work somewhere but he knew it wouldn’t just be anywhere because someone with an MD and a PhD needed more than just a high school biology teacher. 

There just wasn’t any way that he would allow years and years of painstaking work and sleepless nights go to waste all because one path had been blocked off by unforeseen circumstances. 

Being a professor was his chosen plan “b”, but he had opted away from medical school because he knew that even medical school professors needed perfectly steady hands- especially in neuroscience. 

While John Hopkins had been his home for a while, he didn’t want to stay there and just be a model of what happens when things go wrong. 

It was true: those who can’t do, teach. 

Stephen knew he was the perfect example of that but that didn’t mean he wanted to be needlessly reminded every 15 minutes by a curious freshman or an uppity colleague. 

More than qualified, Dr. Strange became Professor Strange at the age of 29 (only a couple of months before his 30th birthday, but he still bragged) and he earned his reputation quickly and it was well deserved. 

Stephen had never suffered fools, and becoming a professor was not going to change that.

The reputation soon began and followed him only a week after his first day when he had a student leave his classroom in tears after she was unable to recall what the hippocampus did as a future neuroscientist.

However Stephen had worked hard and he had encountered his fairshare of possibly demonic professors but they also happened to be the ones which shaped him into the surgeon he almost was and the professor he now was, so he stuck to it. 

“I expect the discussion post to be answered by everyone tonight by midnight. I won’t accept late work. Have a nice day,” Stephen dismissed his lecture hall, praying to some force out there that nobody would stop to ask him about his opinion towards their drafted discussion post because he just wanted to get coffee before his next class. 

Time was limited as when he checked only moments beforehand he only had an hour before his next lecture in an hour. 

18 minutes to walk there and 18 minutes back needing to consider time to set up a couple of minutes before class… 24 minutes to get his coffee in between the two restricted times. 

Thankfully he was able to make his exit painlessly and he found himself pulling the door to his favorite coffee shop only 15 minutes later, shaving off an entire 3 minutes. 

Impressive. 

Ordering his usual, Stephen was almost surprised to see Emilia out from behind the barista bar sitting at one of the tables with a few sheets of paper in front of her as she evidently corrected something. 

A bit disappointed it wasn’t Emilia making his coffee, it soon disappeared as he went over and sat across from her, startling her. 

“You’re out from the inside of your box,” Stephen said with a smile. 

“Hi Professor Strange, I have a 20 minute break so I’m using it to finish off these quizzes for Professor Barlow,” She explained,  “Freshman English is tough,” 

Peeking over, he saw she had written a 62% in green marker at the top of the last test. 

“62? Holy hell. I sure hope he isn’t a sciences major if he’s failing freshman English,” Stephen said, a bit of his arrogance slipping through, and for the first time in a long time he wished he had kept his mouth shut. 

“It’s up from last time. He’s a good writer but he doesn’t test well,” Emilia attempted to defend with soft eyes, knowing that the transition into college level work was tough for some. 

“Or he plagiarizes,” Stephen debated, “But I don’t think we should spend this time debating whether or not a freshman is using his brain. How are you? How has your day been? Any plans?” 

This earned a smile from Emilia who set down her pen and rested her chin on her knuckles as she paid him his full attention which he really found himself enjoying. 

“I am well, a bit tired, but my day has been pretty average. I’m off at 2 so I’m going to go home and take a nap because I couldn’t sleep well last night. After that I’m just doing some homework. Nothing crazy. How about you?” 

Stephen pondered it as he looked at Emilia who waited patiently for his answer. 

“I am also well and my day has been going well so far, although the lecture I taught before coming here dragged on a bit as early morning lectures tend to do but I have no complaints, much less now. After my last lecture which ends at 3 I’m going home to get ready for his PhD faculty dinner that I’m going to with Professor Palmer. Do you know her? She’s a microbiology and immunology professor,” 

The intent listening expression Emilia had fallen, her hands dropping to the table where she grasped at her pen for the sake of doing something with her hands. 

“No uh- I don’t really know anyone that’s a part of the science faculty aside from you,” Emilia told him as her gaze went down towards the table and for some unnameable reason, she felt out of her depth and foolish. 

Stephen had noticed her change in demeanor and he didn’t know how he could change it back to how open and happy it had been just moments prior. He wasn’t given much time to think about it as his name was called from the pickup counter. 

Taking this as her opportunity to leave, even if she still had 5 minutes left of her break, Emilia began cleaning up her papers as Stephen went to pick up his drink. 

“Is your break over?” Stephen asked as he returned to see Emilia organizing her papers. 

“Yeah, I have to get back into my box,” Emilia said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, placing the quizzes back into their folder before standing. 

“I hope you have a nice time at the dinner and with Professor Palmer,” Emilia told him and Stephen felt desperate in a way, desperate to get down to the bottom of what had gone wrong and how he could fix it but time was not in their favor as they both needed to get back to work. 

Stephen told her he’d return the next day but she wouldn’t be working. He settled onto Friday when he knew she would be working. 

Again, Emilia smiled but it wasn’t that genuine smile he’d grown to enjoy but either way she bid him goodbye and turned to head back to work and he left to do the same although with a nagging feeling that wouldn’t go away.

The walk back to campus was thoughtful as Stephen tried to pinpoint the exact moment the conversation between them had gone to hell and how he could have been so foolish. It had been going well since Emilia had been open and smiling at him, paying him her full and devoted attention which was nice and suddenly like a book snapping shut; it was over and she had stepped back into her shell. 

Placing the folder back into her backpack which she kept in the break room, she zipped it up with a bit more force than necessary but she needed to find a way to get rid of the stupid whirlwind of emotions that were overtaking her. 

Grabbing her apron and retying it around her waist, she let out a deep breath because even if she felt frustrated she knew that at the end of the day, she was just really sad. 

Ever since Professor Strange had come into the cafe and had made conversation with her, despite her better judgment, a part of her hand actually got her own hopes up about it all. 

“What if” was a dangerous road to travel and Emilia had traveled it nonstop it seemed.

In an ignorant way, she had convinced herself that it all meant something. That he had been coming around because he wanted to talk to her and that he felt that little spark she felt between them but she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Of course, as an older, well respected, well educated professor he was going to be into people who were also on the same playing field. Not some graduate student who was working two jobs and spent her nights alone in her apartment. 

Heading back out to the bar to relieve Maggie, Emilia thinks about how far out of her league the man is and how it’s actually a bit painful to think about again since it isn’t the first time she’s come to this realization. 

New Hampshire was home to countless intelligent and beautiful women 

Stephen wanted someone who was his equal, not an English master’s degree student who wore an apron to work and whose career path he evidently didn’t think much of.

Emilia’s career path was for her own sake because she loved the possibilities higher education in literature offered and she wasn’t about to start feeling remorse or as though it weren’t a good enough career path because of a ridiculous crush. 

Even though she knew she was successful and was making her way in the world- it was still as disappointing to know that your feelings were not reciprocated both equally at 13 and 25. 

Regardless of her emotional turmoil, however, drinks still needed to be made and caffeine was still a necessity so she got to work. 

_______________________

By the time Friday rolled around and Emilia began getting ready for work she convinced herself that the way she was meticulously picking out her outfit for work was not because of any particular reason. 

Okay. 

So maybe the way she had pulled her hair back into a half up half down style with a clip that just so happened to perfectly match the light cardigan she was wearing which matched her shoes which had the jeans that made her ass look fantastic… 

It was for her own sake, Emilia told herself because when she looked good she felt good. 

It also did not hurt to look great when Professor Strange was going to come by. That was just a fun little addition to it all.

The assumption that he would come in around the time he had last time was correct and Emilia began pulling the adequate shots of espresso as soon as he began ordering, pretending to be nonchalant and feigning ignorance. 

This wasn’t her strongsuit it seemed because Stephen had caught her glancing at him as soon as he stepped foot in the place but he thought it was sweet so he smiled to himself as it gave him the extra boost of confidence he needed. 

Walking over to the bar, Stephen greeted her and watched as Emilia grabbed the shaker bottle. 

“So if someone were to make you a coffee, what would it be?” Stephen asked. 

“What?” Emilia asked in a way she found stupid because the question was clear. 

“You know my coffee order,” Stephen said with a casual shrug, leaning his hip against the counter ever so slightly, “It’s only right I know yours as well,”

Emilia paused her movements as she thought about it.

 The taste of coffee itself wasn’t all too appealing to her, and it had never been. A bit ironic with how she worked at a coffee shop but she did enjoy coffee drinks when they were creamy, sweet, and didn’t make her gag with the strength of the coffee. 

From their own menu and, despite her support of small businesses, Starbucks- she always got a brown sugar shaken espresso with extra oat milk.

It hadn’t disappointed her yet and it was the perfect, most delicious- 

“Look,” Stephen said with a nervous strain in his voice Emilia had never been privy to, watching as he shifted his weight uncomfortable, “I’m trying to ask you to dinner,” 

Jesus Christ. 

Who knew a person could be so dense?

“So, Emilia, will you go to dinner with me?” Stephen asked, “I’d like to talk without a counter between us or a time limit,” 

The world seemingly narrows to the man standing in front of her. The professor she had encountered by just the chance circumstances life provided was all she noticed for that moment, even if in the back of her mind she knew that the cashier was watching intently and a few other lingering customers were watching because really, who didn’t love gossip? Plus Stephen had been exactly whispering. 

The world is Stephen- tall, handsome, intelligent, confident Stephen who could probably have any person he laid eyes on wanted Emilia. Small, shy, thoughtful Emilia who often goes unnoticed but not by him it seemed. 

Emilia opens and closes her mouth for a moment but she tells herself to get it together. 

“I- yes,” Emilia finally said, “I would love to,”

The happiness that painted Stephen’s face was enough to light up a city block. 

Was it weird how crazy she was about him considering she didn’t even know him? Maybe. But this wasn’t the time to dissect the inner workings of her affections. 

In another world, perhaps a romantic comedy of sorts, Emilia would have left her shift right then and there to go out with Stephen. Stephen would have also abandoned his Friday lectures and office hours and they would have gone out together. 

A lovely dinner would be shared with them where Emilia would open up and Stephen would also open up, breaking the ice and shaking off the seemingly permanent arrogant exterior he wore with everyone but her for the night. Maybe even forever. 

But this was not that world. 

“Do you live here or something? Can I have your number to contact you?” Stephen asks with the same smile. 

“Yeah I live here under the counter next to the milk fridge,” Emilia responds without thinking, smiling as Stephen laughs but she’s grabbing the Sharpie from her apron and writing her number on a nearby napkin because cliches are cliches for a reason, sometimes. Practicality and all. 

Emilia’s handwriting is neat, it’s cute, and it’s perfect. 

Stephen’s fingers brush her own as he takes it, and they both somehow know it’s intentional so they both share an inside joke smile before Emilia readies his drink by snapping the lid on, sending him on his way with a promise to call. 

The rest of the shift is spent with Emilia attempting to ignore her phone and pretending to ignore the seemingly unrelenting temptation to just sneak into the back like she knows everyone does to check her phone. 

When given the opportunity to check her messages Emilia tries her best to ignore the cold disappointment when there are no missed calls or messages from a new number. While Emilia doesn't think that Stephen is the type of person to ask someone out and then ignore them, she also knows that she doesn’t really know him aside from his drink order and his profession. 

Stephen could very well have plenty of phone numbers to pick and choose from as he pleases. 

This thought dims her mood so she chooses to let it go in favor of wiping the counter off. Again. 

Emilia couldn’t possibly know that Stephen had been staring at the napkin every opportunity he had gotten; saving the numbers on his computer, phone, and even writing it down on a sticky note he stuck into his wallet before his next lecture just in case. 

The same number he had already successfully memorized. 

It’s during her walk home after work when Emilia is planning out her evening’s dinner when her phone begins to vibrate in her backpack, excitement bubbling in her chest as she sees it’s from an unknown number. 

“Hello?” Emilia answers, hoping she didn’t speak too quickly. 

“Hi. Is this Emilia?” The familiar voice which is just slightly changed by a phone call asks, “This is Stephen. Boundary crossing professor and customer,” 

“Hi Stephen,” Emilia says with a grin she can’t stamp down painting her face as she presses the crosswalk button. 

“I hope this is an alright time to call, I just couldn’t wait any longer so I’m calling between lectures,” 

“Oh,” Oh. “No, no that’s fine,” Emilia feels she’s capable of doing a cartwheel at that moment. 

“I ended my last lecture early with the promise of it being so they could prepare for the midterm but I knew that they wanted to get of out there as much as I did so I did us both a favor,”

Emilia imagines Stephen rushing students out of his lecture hall as quickly as possible in order to call her seconds sooner. 

“I’m glad you called,” Emilia confesses, briefly missing someone distracted from crashing into her. 

“I am too,” There’s a pause and Emilia listens intently, “I don’t know your personal schedule but I know you don’t work tomorrow but are you free tomorrow afternoon?” 

Tomorrow!! Emilia thinks. Less than a day away. 

“I’m free,” Emilia has work to do for school but she knows she’d find time during finals week for Stephen. 

“Perfect. There’s this restaurant, it’s a brewery as well. It’s on Wheelbridge. I’d like to take you there,” 

While Emilia knows the area, not the restaurant. It’s not too close to home, but it would be okay. 

“Okay. That sounds nice. What time?” 

“Let’s do 2? I don’t want to interrupt you sleeping in and relaxing. Is that okay? I thought we could have lunch and then somewhere else not too far away,” 

“That sounds lovely,” 

“Great. Perfect. I will let you go because I’m sure you have things to do and I won’t be the reason you are distracted,” 

Stephen didn’t know he was Emilia’s favorite distraction. 

“Tomorrow, then?” Stephen asks, “2?” suddenly sounding hesitant, nervous almost. It didn’t suit him as he sounded unsure as if he needed to make sure it was happening and set in stone. 

“2pm I’ll be there,” 

“Okay. See you then. Bye, Emilia,” 

“Bye-bye” Emilia says before they both hang up and she wants to body slam herself through the Earth’s crust because who says “bye-bye” unironically? 

Instead of dwelling, Emilia saves his phone number carefully and there is absolutely nothing that can ruin her mood. 

Not the way that the leftovers she was planning on having were spoiled, or the way she had forgotten to revise an essay, or even when she couldn’t sleep out of sheer excitement.

[lightning-will-bovino]

For @thehandworld , I've put the messages together so it's easier to go the whole thing together. It's a bit edited. Tell me if there's more info you want to add.

Aftermath

-In Gokudera's Office-

"Lambo, How long have you had Yamamoto's cock up your ass?" While calmly doing his paperwork on his desk while Lambo is standing up in front of the desk.

Lambo is nervous and blushing. "...less than a month..."

"Did you two consider in like... locking the fucking door? Or like... not to do close to my office?"

Another level of blush was added to Lambo's face. "I DID lock the door...Yamamoto must've unlocked it. As in why not another room...Yamamoto's office was getting cleaned..."

"Did you consider that he wanted you two to get caught?"

"He was smirking when the...threesome happened." Lambo sat down on the couch since he felt his legs wobble when the dots connected that Yamamto wanted this to happen.

"Oh really? Im going to fuck him later then." He honestly didn't mind the ambiguous/open relationship, but it would be best to fix that now. "So what do you wish for? I did have sex with him before, but I don't want to make anything uncomfortable"

Lambo's eyes widened and looked elsewhere. "Well, I, we, never gave a full dive deep into what we are. He tried to say we're more than 'just friends'...I've teased him enough that we just ended up fucking..."

Gokudera kinda facepalms as he gets his phone and texts on it. "Mhmmm, so wouldn't be nice to actually put a name?"

"Friends-with-benefits? I don't know," Lambo sighs. "This started when I entered his room while he was busy, use him to direct your sister elsewhere by making it look like he's fucking someone, he trapped me, I tease him, he teases me, and well, fuck marathons afterward. How do you call that?"

"Friends with benefits with a dubious question of is that only that?" As the storm was typing aggressively on his phone. "Why didn't you two talk about it? Even if is just sex and nothing else, you two should have talked about it."

"We'll try..." Lambo purses his lips. 'Let's hope my mouth isn't full of dick or have enough free time to not just do a quicky.' Lambo thought sarcastically.

Text Between Gokudera and Yamamoto:

Dera: Get your ass at my office

Yama: If this is about work, Im busy

Dera: its about your fucking time with Lambo

Yama: im definitely busy

Dera: TAKESHI GET YOUR FUCKING ASS HERE NOW!

Yama: Can't Im fucking Lambo

Dera: ... he is right in front of me

Yama: [doesn't answer]

Dera: Im sending Uri

Gokudera makes Uri appear in her full glory. "Bring Yamamoto Takeshi to me, do whatever it needs."

Seeing Uri out, Lambo is confused and a bit sorry for the other man as he sees the big leopard dart out of the office. "Should I leave or...?" He's confused about what's going on.

"You sit down and wait. She is just going to grab an idiot." As the storm just relaxes and looks at the younger. "Anyway, if you don't want the cat chasing you, we are going to talk and figure this out."

Yamamoto is avoiding them both, mostly because he knows Dera is pissed at his lack of consent with Lambo.

"At least this isn't like my last ex-!" Lambo froze because he never mentioned in detail what happened. He simply said they had broken up and preferred not to think about it too much. In his mind, it was not 'that' bad, but for the others, it may be bad even if he took care of the situation.

[In context, Lambo has experienced relationships, but he rarely brings them up. Especially since they don't last long and have yet to meet the family. The last two exes...well, Lambo knows what to Look Out for in a relationship.

Lambo may or may not have done some pro-revenge on them. Not enough to take the Lightning to jail, but he did enough revenge for their reputations and put the exes into deep debt.]

Something told Hayato that he shouldn't poke it but at the same time. "You know, if you wanna talk about it, I'm more than happy to hear. I will understand if you don't wanna talk, tho." He takes his cigarette and starts smoking.

Lambo bit his bottom lip and gave a bit of info. "Let's just say I've dealt with it...And the ex was a gaslighter, and...I didn't want anything of mine to be memorabilia for his collection. He no longer has a collection."

"Okay. I trust you, Lambo." He relaxes as he smokes. "I mean, there is no crime I can't hide, so if you wanna do anything else, I'd sure know how to hide it." After all, they are in the mafia world, where Hayato is second in command of the Vongola Family. "Are you okay now?"

"About the ex? Yeah, they are in deep debt for years, and you know if one doesn't pay, they go to jail... About Yamamoto? I'm not sure, but I know "just sex" isn't ideal for the long run... but I'm not taking this seriously since well. Is this serious? I don't know if I'm making sense."

He smokes while hearing the younger and then sighs. "Lambo, you are making sense more importantly, I also wanna know if you want to take this seriously. Also, did you consider being a poly with me? Because quite honestly, I don't fuck just for fuck." Was he confessing in the middle of this? Yes. Does he care? Not exactly.

"I want to...take a relationship seriously, but...I don't if this one can be...this isn't my first 'sex friend' I had, but even those didn't last long." Lambo again bites his bottom lip as he looks elsewhere. "Poly never occurred to me until you've mentioned it. You and Yamamoto are fine together. Right now, I don't...see myself in that picture...."

Why is his vision starting to water? Lambo is stunned that he's shedding a few tears.

It's like one of those crying that doesn't happen until you talk. You're optimistic or neutral until you talk in-depth about what's happening to you.

He looks at Lambo, getting up and sitting at his side if he wants to lean against him, gently caressing his head. "It's okay, I understand what you mean. But Lambo, I would never join if I didn't want to be with you too." As he thinks a bit. "If you are scared, how about this, let the three of us go out, and see how we stay together?"

Lambo wiped a few tears and looked at Gokudera. There's silence between them as Lambo opened his mouth a few times but no sound comes out. "I-,"

*Boom* *Thump*

Before Lambo can answer, Uri comes into the office, making both of them turn towards the door, as she drags Yamamoto by the scruff of his suit with her teeth.

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #36:

Love Has No Pride

My local record store is hard at work purging $5 titles from table top bins and dooming them to the higgeldy piggeldy Dollar Bins beneath. Are you longing for some Neil Diamond or Captain and Tennille? Well, you're in luck: you can seize their entire 70's catalogs for 93 pre-tax cents a piece. I've passed altogether on both artists so far, but who knows, maybe one day I'll discover that corpulent dogs, medalions and chest hair are the keys to great music.

I got gleefully down on my knees last week and combed through it all, emerging with 15 titles for 15 bucks. Here's the hoard:

Will I ever actually listen to Melanie's first record or Linda Ronstadt wingman Andrew Gold's attempt at a solo album? Maybe? Will I make good on my long ago promise to listen to an unmelted version of Art Garfunkel's Watermark? Someday.

I did listen to Poco's first record, which you can see above, with some anticipation: my famous brother recently recommended it as, basically, another Buffalo Springfield record. But when my eldest daughter asked me to please turn it the hell off I eagerly complied. It sounded more than un poco terrible.

But the treasure, so far, from this latest Dollar Bin haul are three Bonnie Raitt records from the 70's.

Raitt's Nick of Time was a big deal when I first discovered as a kid that VH1 was often less terrifying than MTV. And so I developed an early bias against Bonnie that still lingers. She didn't look like Janet Jackson or sing Tom Petty; plus I was uncomfortable with a lady having some gray hair while rocking the blues: 13 years old boys can be sexist little brats.

But I'm a guy who likes to second guess my biases, and so when I came upon her titles last week in the Dollar bin I remembered that Raitt is friends with Ronstadt and I know have more gray hair than Raitt. And so, I figured, what the hell did I have to lose for 93 cents?

And that brings us to today's topic: Eric Kaz's 70's torch song Love Has No Pride. Is it an essential piece of the 70's musical expression? Probably not. The song's a bit overwrought and features some regrettable nonsense about wishing you could buy your beloved's affections; either Kaz wasn't familiar with the song and/or concept Can't Buy Me Love, which seems pretty damn unlikely, or he wished his lady in question would give up her day job and become a woman of ill repute, which is hopefully not the deal, or he just ran out of things to say and grabbed at something silly.

For what it's worth, if you are gonna involve female sex workers in your music I recommend you either get weird and have them bend down to tie the laces of your shoe or go full Ringo and call them women of the night with a big silly grin.

Even so, Love Has No Pride clearly resonated with the record buying public in the early 70's as Raitt, Ronstadt and then Rita Coolidge each issued complimentary versions of the track between 71 and 74. Let's consider them in reverse chronological order, beginning with Coolidge's effort on what may be her best record, Fall Into Spring.

I want to start with Rita, whose records unfairly clog up many a Dollar Bin, because her version of Love Has No Pride is surely why the song dwells in my bones. Coolidge was in my extended family when I was born as she and Kris Kristofferson were still married and Kris, as you can read elsewhere, is my mother's cousin. And so I grew up utterly familiar with Rita's smokey smolder of a voice from my mom's 8 tracks and country radio.

I have no memory of ever actually meeting her, and I doubt I ever did. I was surely left with a babysitter on the rare occasion when my folks hung out with Kris and Rita because, after all, drunken debauchery, which was the performers' calling card, doesn't mix well with babies, especially homely looking ones. And I was mighty homely.

Anyway, take a listen to Rita's version: it's stately and elegant; nothing is forced and nothing is too complicated.

Nice huh? Coolidge consistently drags at the pace, indifferent to anyone who could ever rush her. And by the end we need reminders that she's got an ace band around her: everything in this song centers on Rita and we can't blame the cat on the cover for trying to claim her full attention.

It was a pretty gutsy move on Coolidge's part to record the track; after all, two years earlier Linda Ronstadt had ignored its torch song potential and instead lit up an entire barn. Listen to her throw everything at the tune: we've got back up singers, galloping percussion, 16 different guitar sounds, emerging strings and, at the center of it all, like a detonating star, her own titanic voice.

Ronstadt is one of my favorite singers of all time, and her take on Love Has No Pride is always welcome on my turntable. That said, I prefer Coolidge's slower, simpler arrangement, and I suspect Linda did too. After putting out her version of Love Has No Pride Linda let go of female backing choirs altogether and let a new producer, Peter Asher, help her streamline her arrangements in honor of her voice and solo gesture.

And so, now you know: Rita's take came through the bars of my crib and my own kids grew up with Linda's.

But The Dollar Bin is a mighty force, and it holds many secrets. And, until this last week, Raitt's original take from 71 was one of them.

And maybe, just maybe, her version is the best of the bunch:

Raitt sings the song so simply. Barns don't catch fire, torches are not lit. Instead we've got sweet picking, gurgling bass and a brave woman giving us some straight talk about how she feels and who she loves.

Wow. Bonnie Raitt, people! I'll race you back to those Dollar Bins; looks like it's time to track down the rest of her 70's catalog.

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Against the Tide - Three

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Original Female Character, Silvio Ricci x Original Female Character Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach), Silvio Ricci (Ikemen Prince), Olivia DuBois (Original Female Character of Color) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent, Pirates and Princes, Slow Burn, Action/Adventure, Worldbuilding, Angst, Some Subtle Racism, Sexual Tension, Political Subplot

Previous Chapter: Two | Next Chapter: Four

Summary:

Her father looks uncomfortable. "I heard that you've been keeping company with a pirate."

"He's not a pirate," Olivia protests. "He's a merchant who just has an unfairly bad reputation."

"Reputations come from somewhere, Livvy," her father reminds her gently. "And even if they're mostly fabricated, there's always a kernel of truth in there somewhere."

Read on AO3

“I thought you’d be down there all night,” Prisca remarks, when Olivia ducks through the tavern door again.

“Why would I? Things are just starting to get lively here, from the looks of it.” 

The tavern owner gives her a knowing look. “Not many women can go onto the Hellcat at dusk and come back off of it before the sun comes up.” 

“Well then, I guess that makes me special, doesn’t it?” She looks around the room full of men, her intent to change the subject. “Where are the girls?” 

“Most of ‘em have already gone up with someone for the night,” Prisca replies. “Sabrina and Leonie are around here somewhere though.” The older woman leans in close, her voice lowered. “I think they’re waiting for Mr. Moneybags to come down.” 

Olivia wrinkles her nose. “I could’ve done without knowing that, Prisca.” 

“Well,” Prisca shrugs, “you said you weren’t interested.” 

“And I meant what I said - I’m not,” she reiterates firmly. “I keep telling you that what’s likely to happen is one of his younger brothers ends up marrying one of my younger sisters. Problem solved.” 

“He’s the Crown Prince,” Prisca points out, pulling two short glasses from a high shelf. She slides a bottle of expensive rum across the counter along with the glasses. “He’s gonna have to get married sooner or later.” 

“Not my problem,” Olivia murmurs. She tilts her head toward the bottle of rum and the glasses. “Where’s this going?” 

“Upstairs to room seven.” 

Olivia flips a tray over and places both glasses and the bottle on top of it. She makes her way through the crowded tavern, weaving between full tables where drunk seafarers are bellowing with laughter. Gone are the days when stray hands would find parts of her body along the way - a few broken fingers here and there over the years have always solved that problem quickly. 

At the top of the stairs, she repositions the bottle and glasses on the tray before raising her hand to knock at door number seven. Halfway through her first knock the door is snatched open, and she’s face-to-face with a pair of familiar blue eyes. 

He looks her up and down. When his eyes fall on the tray in her hands, he steps aside to let her in. 

Olivia takes a deep breath. Be civil, she reminds herself. Not only is he a paying customer, he’s also the Crown Prince. “Where would you like this?” She asks politely. 

“Right there,” he answers, his tone short. 

She sets it down on the table he motions to, noticing silently that the room is empty save him. She clears her throat. “Would you like me to take one of the glasses away with me?” 

He stares at her, his expression hard. “Do you have something you want to say?” 

��I’m only asking you if you require both of these glasses,” she smiles politely. “The house is packed tonight and if you’re only in need of one, the other can be used elsewhere.” 

“Maybe I was counting on my server joining me for a drink,” he says. She’s not ignorant to the sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“Then perhaps I should send one of the other girls up for you,” she offers, her tone still sweetly polite. “As you recall, I’m not for hire.” 

“Only to pirates, it seems.” His voice is pitched low, but she hears the words anyway. 

“I’m sorry, what’s that supposed to mean?” 

He inclines his head to the side, his blue eyes piercing. “What do you think it means?” 

“I think maybe I’m confused about what it means, and it would clear up a lot of the confusion if you would just speak plainly.” She is trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. It’s a Herculean effort. 

“Are you sleeping with him?” 

The blunt question catches her off-guard. Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. Still, she’s unable to get any words out for a solid thirty seconds. “What did you just say?” 

Silvio takes a step closer to her. Then another, and another, until his face is only a few inches from hers. “You told me to speak plainly. I asked you a question. Are you sleeping with him?” 

“I… don’t think that’s any of your business,” Olivia sputters indignantly. 

He looks at her for a long time. “No,” he says finally after a few moments. “You’re not.” 

Exasperated, she puts her hands on her hips. “If you knew that already, then why’d you bother asking?” 

He turns away from her, filling a glass with rum and raising it to his lips. “I didn’t know,” he tells her, when he’s taken a long swig. “Until just now.” 

She wants to ask him how he knows. She wants to ask him what it means to him that he knows she isn’t, and why he wanted to know in the first place. But the words get stuck in her throat, and she finds herself unable to say anything at all. 

“You can go,” he says dismissively, when it’s clear she isn’t going to speak. “Leave the other glass. I’m waiting for a business associate.” 

“As you wish,” she manages through clenched teeth, offering him a tight smile. “Enjoy your night.” 

--

“Are you staying tonight, or should I have Murph or one of the other guys walk you back?” 

She hears the question but doesn’t register that it’s aimed at her until Prisca asks again, this time calling her name first. “Um, no,” she says distractedly. “I’ll stay - if that’s alright?” 

“You know it’s always alright,” the older woman nods warmly. “I can always use the help, and I know that little place of yours must get lonely, now that you’re not living with your family anymore.” 

Olivia shrugs. 

--

The first light of dawn has touched the horizon before the last of Prisca’s patrons stumble out of the tavern. Most simply walk to different ends of the dock and hoist themselves groggily (or drunkenly) onto their ships; the rest make their way up the stairs to the rooms they’ve booked at the inn. 

Olivia is wiping down tables when he comes down. At the sound of his footsteps, she looks up. “Good morning,” she says softly. The greeting is her peace offering. 

“You look tired,” is the way he responds. 

“Does everything you say have to be framed as an insult?” The question comes out as a sigh. 

“Less than eight hours ago, you told me to speak plainly so I wouldn’t confuse you.” He points it out as though it’s the most rational thing in the world. 

“I was… that was in a specific context,” Olivia huffs. 

He shrugs, turning towards the door. 

“How did you know?” She blurts it out, unaware she’s going to ask the question until he’s turning back to face her. 

“What?” 

Part of her wants to pretend as though she hasn’t spoken… or at the very least tell him her question was a mistake. But the bigger part of her wants to know, and so she takes a deep breath, straightening to look him in the eye. “You said you didn’t know I wasn’t sleeping with him until you asked me,” she starts quietly. “How did you know?” 

“You fall hard,” Silvio replies. “And you only seem to be casually affected whenever someone brings him up to you in that context. If it had been like that,” he goes on, “you’d either be a lot more obvious about being attached to him, or he’d be the object of all that venom you keep hidden in your tongue.”  

Her mouth turns down in a frown. “That’s not fair.” 

He shrugs again. “It’s the truth you wanted. Besides,” he adds, his smile growing sharp and his words rude, “we all know he doesn’t fraternize with the women he takes to bed. Not after he’s gotten what he wants out of them, anyway---”

“How is that any different from you coming here almost every night of the week?” She knows her question is an unfair comparison, but his summation of Grimmjow has rankled her. 

Silvio looks curiously at her, seeming to seriously consider her question. “Women know who I am when they agree to come to bed with me,” he says finally. “I give them no illusions about what’s going to happen. Or what isn’t,” he adds. 

“And you’re saying he does?” 

He inclines his head to the side. “Why do you care so much about his honor?” He asks the question mockingly. “What has he ever done for you? What has he ever done for anyone aside from himself?” 

“You don’t know him,” she sighs. “He does plenty for other people.” 

“For you, you mean?” Silvio raises his fine silver eyebrows. “You think bringing you trinkets from Vora makes him a good man? You think that means he loves you?” 

Olivia hates it - hates the way the words drip from his lips as cold and bitter as frost. He curls his mouth up in another of those nasty, knowing smiles. “I bet he’s asked, hasn’t he?” He goes on, leaning in close to get a good look at her face. “Why haven’t you let him fuck you?” 

She keeps her mouth firmly shut. 

“Oh,” he leans back, his nasty smile turning into a smug, self-satisfied one. “Don’t tell me there’s somebody else you’re hung up on. Not you, the independent, self-sufficient, courageous woman---”

“That isn’t fair, Silvio,” she asserts quietly. “You said you would never throw it in my face.”

“Well I lied,” he shrugs. “Seems like you lied about something, too.”

His words slam into her so hard they take her breath for a moment. “I was wrong to think you could ever behave like a decent human,” she snaps, pushing past him. “And I was right not to want to marry you.” 

Just for a second, the sneer falls off of his face, and his blue eyes cloud over with something that looks suspiciously like hurt. The second passes, and by the time she looks at him again he has carefully schooled his expression back into a scowl. “Well,” he says haughtily, “you’re no prize yourself, so I guess we both made out like bandits.” 

He slams the door behind him on his way out. 

--

“What?” He breathes the word into her ear, the warm puff of air against her chilled skin making her shudder. He’s being uncharacteristically affectionate, draping his limbs around her, his skin pressing against hers wherever he can reach it. “What’s with that look?” 

His hair brushes against her cheek, silken silver strands like a spider’s web tickling wherever they touch. The thin haze of alcohol is still blanketing her senses, and she laughs. “I don’t know,” she exhales. “I just… I guess I thought it would hurt more.” 

Cloudy blue eyes look down at her. “I can make it hurt, if you want me to,” he whispers. Fingertips dig into her sides, pressing against the soft flesh of her hips. He pushes into her a little deeper. “Do you want me to make it hurt?” 

The slide of him against her walls is the most intense thing she’s ever felt, and she’s barely able to stifle a moan. “N-no,” she breathes out shakily. “This… this is perfect.” 

His smile is smug. 

--

“Well now,” Antoine DuBois greets her warmly. “To what do I owe this treat? I was beginning to think I would never see my firstborn again.” 

“It hasn’t been that long,” Olivia laughs. “I just came by to say hello.”

“You look tired,” he remarks. His words are kind, his delivery completely different from the way she heard those words just a few hours ago. 

“I just finished a shift at the Sundance,” she confesses.

“Don’t tell your mother that,” he frowns. 

“I won’t if you won’t,” Olivia chuckles. 

He doesn’t laugh with her though, and Olivia braces herself for what is sure to be a deeper conversation. Her father takes a deep breath. “Why don’t you come home, Livvy-Love?” He asks softly. “It isn’t just your mother who wants to see you happily settled down, you know.” 

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. “I know you mean well, Papa,” she starts. “But I thought we were past this. I’m fine with my life as it is. If the royal family still has it in their minds to keep us hostage by means of a political marriage, Thalia is the obvious choice.” 

“And while I don’t disagree with you,” her father nods, “that isn’t what this is about.” 

Curiously, she looks at him. “Okay,” she says slowly. “What is it about?” 

Her father looks uncomfortable. “I heard that you’ve been keeping company with a pirate.”

“He’s not a pirate,” Olivia protests. “He’s a merchant who just has an unfairly bad reputation.”

“Reputations come from somewhere, Livvy,” her father reminds her gently. “And even if they’re mostly fabricated, there’s always a kernel of truth in there somewhere.” 

Olivia shakes her head. “Where is all this coming from? And who told you this?” 

There is only a split second of hesitation before he speaks. “Prince Silvio visited the manor a few days ago,” he admits. “We’d actually arranged for his younger brother Prince Alessio to have tea with Thalia. He came along as Alessio’s chaperone.” 

She tries to keep her expression neutral. “And why would you believe anything he says?” 

Puzzled, her father looks at her. “Do I have a reason not to?”  

It stings Olivia’s pride a bit, the idea that her father’s opinion of Silvio isn’t at all colored by Olivia’s experience with him. What tempers the sting of knowing that is that her father has never once berated her for the decision she made all those years ago.

“I just… don’t think Silvio Ricci is the right person to make moral judgments on other people.” 

Antoine’s eyebrows go up. “Oh? Do you know something I don’t?” 

“It’s nothing,” she sighs. “I’m really tired, Papa… can I sleep here for a few hours before I head back to the docks?” 

Her father looks set to pursue his line of questioning, but thinks better of it. “This conversation isn’t over,” he starts. “But I know where your stubbornness comes from, and I also know I’m not going to get anywhere with you when you’re tired.” 

She flashes him a grin, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “You’re the most incredible father in the world.”

“I don’t hear that nearly enough.” 

--

“You called me ugly.” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as an accusation, but it does. 

“I know I did,” he agrees, his blue eyes crinkling with mirth at the corners. “It was fifteen years ago. And I said I was sorry for it back then.” 

She looks up at him. His face is so close, so handsome. She reaches up to run a finger along his bottom lip. “I’m not ugly,” she murmurs. 

“No,” he agrees, “you’re not. You’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, and you get even prettier when you’re under me like this.” He dips his head, dragging his lips along the skin between her shoulder and the hollow of her throat. He nips at her collarbone, and Olivia arches up into him with a groan. 

“Silvio---”

“Why won’t you marry me?” He lifts his head once more to look at her, his question abrupt. 

The words catch in her throat, but she pushes past the breath they get stuck on to look back at him. “You know why,” she says quietly. 

His blue eyes study her face for a long time. There is something there that she isn’t used to seeing: something open and vulnerable. 

“Would it really be so bad to be a princess?” He whispers the words, burying his face in her shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t be just a princess,” she rebuts, her voice soft in the darkness. “At some point, I would become your Queen… the Queen of Clario. That… Silvio, I couldn’t do it. I’m not cut out for it.” 

He doesn’t raise his head. She can feel him breathing, his back rising and falling. He’s still inside her, still warm and hard and heavy. She cards her fingers through his silken hair. “Silvio…”

“Don’t you love me?” 

--

The memory is still painful, even after five years. She doesn’t allow herself to think of it often, but every now and again it comes to her unbidden and she is powerless to stop it. 

She looks down at the jewelry box in her hand. It’s been sitting in her old bedroom at her parents’ manor for years now, collecting dust and hoarding old memories like a jealous lover. 

“Livvy!” The sound of her two youngest sisters clamoring up the stairs reaches her ears and makes her smile, despite the heavy feeling in her heart. The twins come bounding into her room, their cries of excitement drowning out even her noisiest thoughts. 

Nadine bounces on the bed next to Olivia, her big brown eyes on the box in Olivia’s hands. “Livvy, what’s in that?” 

Olivia narrows her eyes playfully at the little girl. “I’m surprised you don’t already know, Dina,” she starts. “You can be awfully nosy when you want to.” 

“Oh, we don’t come in here unless you’re here,” the other twin, Leina, pipes up. “Papa and Mama say your things are not to be touched.” 

“So what’s that?” Nadine asks again. 

“It’s a jewelry box,” Olivia smiles, opening the lid to show them the compartments inside. The jewelry within is just as she left it so many years ago, each piece nestled perfectly into its own compartment. 

“So pretty,” Leina breathes. “Did you buy all of that?” 

“No,” Olivia says softly. “A… friend bought it for me.” 

Leina bounces up and down beside her. “That must be a really good friend,” she giggles excitedly. “When I grow up, I want a friend like that!” 

Olivia smiles, a little wistfully. 

--

“Don’t you love me?”

He asks the question softly, more plaintively than she’s ever heard him speak. He doesn’t look up at her; she knows that it is a matter of his pride. 

“Of course I do,” she says candidly. “You know I do.”

“But you won’t marry me.”

“Silvio…” 

He raises his head once more, his blue eyes dark as he pulls his hips back. He gives her a smile: that same smug, self-satisfied smile he always gives her whenever she surrenders her body to his. “I won’t ask you anymore,” he whispers, his lips ghosting across hers in a kiss. “I promise.”

Previous Chapter: Two | Next Chapter: Four

[memoriescut]

shoulders shrug lightly at question, a confident grin on her lips. she's always had to be observant one way or another, outcome of her days ditctated by her mother's current mood. it rarely was nice, but if anything it's given pudding an headstart about reading people as much as they would let her. she pretends to think about it for a moment - sardine oil wouldn't mix well with chocolate no matter what, its taste would ruin all the flavour. her trail of thought is broken by sanji's comment, humming in thought as fingers instinctively move to tuck short strands behind her ear. "thanks, you're very kind." she accepts the compliment lightly, still new to not letting the voices belittle the few good things she still got left. "guess we all need a change at some point." and while her long hair provided a sense of safety pudding thought she could never anywere else, now she can also recognise it was just as much of a cage as everything else.

chin rests on clasped hands as she watches sanji fall back into a professional manner, still an amused smile ghosts on pudding's lips t the way personal notes are added, nodding along in encouraging manner even upon hearing about the last dish of the menu - a pensive expression on features as she envisions it, mind already reeling with questions about its composition. "oh well, it sounds like i might be about to have the lunch of my life." no doubt about that, after all good reputations can't be buit over nothing. soft gaze remains on the cook for a moment, the arrival of more patrons eventually getting her attention. "i see you have your hands full so i won't keep you longer," a hint of disappointment still manages to slip in her tone, how nice it would be to catch up further. perhaps later. "the menu sounds lovely, i can't wait to see it."

gaze still follows sanji when he parts, expression relaxing as pudding finds cover in her own thoughts. a part of her misses it - the loud music, the crowd, the smell of good food in every corner of the establishment. her mind goes back to the cafe caramel more times than she would like to admit, seemingly simpler times still tugging at her heart. who knows if it's ever been replaced after its distruction, if her the citizens of chocolat town have found their favourite spot elsewhere these days. it's a whole life away she is not part of anymore, but in the it all boils down to one little detail: she hasn't stepped in a proper kitchen for years, and oh how she misses that feeling. before she realizes, a plate is already making its way to her table.

ㅤㅤThere she is, that sense of confidence of hers seemingly still intact, meeting Pudding’s words with a grin that broadens with the continuation of the joke, brushing a hand over his shoulder to denote the cook’s thoughts on his skillset. "Can’t get anything past you, eh? I hear he’s not too shabby but who knows, he might surprise you with his own unique spin on something inedible… sardines dipped in white chocolate."  There’s a playful grimace with the mere thought of the clashing flavours that should never grace one's palate together, comfortable laughter ringing out as Sanji finds himself using the segue to take in her appearance, noting how the overall style seems a little more mature in comparison with the concluding instance of their last encounter.  "You cut your hair."  There’s a lightness to the comment as realisation sinks in with fair line of vision piecing it altogether, smile unwavering as he provides the brunette with a final verdict  (  un avec sincérité  ).  "It suits you. Very chic."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThere’s a small acquiescing nod from the blond, breezily falling back into the habit of addressing the main(?) reason for her visit, veering into a waiter's patter to divulge the day's courses ( comme à l'époque ), specifically choosing those that the restaurant would only have a limited number of servings - this was on account of the copious hours of pre-prep having taken place the prior night and over the period of the morning, the process of finalising the dishes merely the tip of the figurative iceberg.  "As an aperitif, a personal favourite is a dolce variety comprising of notes of rhubarb, orange and a selection of botanicals - comfortingly floral, but not overbearing. To start, I’d recommend the carrot schnitzel which are served with a coating of paprika smoked panko, accompanied by sunflower hummus and a spicy zhoug - they balance each other nicely, especially when served with a glass of white wine originating from our very own Sambas Region.

ㅤㅤ"For the main, we have a traditional bouillabaisse featuring lobster, red mullet and blue-eye trevalla with freshly baked baguette croutons and saffron rouille. A rosé from Dressrosa is our prized selection for the day, not detracting from the meal's richer infusions. And for dessert…"  There’s a pause of hesitation, the cook knowing fully that this was very much Pudding’s area of expertise, keenly interested in her upcoming feedback later on.  “...a tower of three fine layers of shortbread stacked and held upright by strawberries hulled and halved lengthways, all exquisitely assembled with Chantilly cream, served with an underlying splash of strawberry coulis anda dusting of icing sugar. How does that sound?"

[discoscoob]

You want more Eddissy hc's? No problem, my friend, because I have so many and I'm scared to post them elsewhere. (be aware, some implied non-con and angst) It's set in the same story line which I have sent before (Vecna is only but a little DnD figure, no one ever had to leave for California, everyone is alive and breathing) __

"Eddie, please, don't --" Don't leave me, is what she wanted to say. Please don't let me go. Please stay with me until the sky falls down on us, until Earth swallows us whole, until our last breaths are taken from our lungs.

"You know that this -- this thing between us won't work. Because you are Chrissy Cunningham, the Christian cheerleader next door with her handsome blond boyfriend, and I'm just white trash without parents and a lunch box full of drugs."

Chrissy had wanted to cry many times before in her life, and she certainly had followed her body's command. She had bawled her eyes out at movies, after her first win in a cheerleader competition, after the first time Jason had not listened to her whispered no's. But with Eddie Munson telling her that despite their kiss, despite their passionate talks in the middle of the night, stars and moon illuminating their flushed faces, they couldn't even be close anymore -- it was a different kind of sadness that crashed over her like a violent wave. It suffocated her, took away her ability to breathe.

"Why did I do wrong?" Her voice was quiet, almost unaudible. She had to know, yet she did not want to hear Eddie answer. Chrissy wanted to create a force-field around them two, a bubble no one else could ever break into, a space so safe that they were absolutely free until time itself collapsed.

Eddie stepped closer. She wasn't sure if it was a play of the light, if the street lamp made her see things, if it was the aura of the rain that was setting in -- but she wasn't the only one with tears welling up.

"You did nothing wrong, sweetheart," Eddie murmured into the night. His dextrous fingers played a tattoo against her neck. Short, short. Short, long, short, short. Long, short, long, long. I. L. Y.

They had started communicating in morse code after their second time of smoking weed at Eddie's. In now way had they been able to talk to each other in school; afraid that Jason would see them, scared how others would react, they had decided to keep their friendship -- who are you kidding, Chrissy? Friendship? Friends don't want to kiss each other until they're blue in the face -- secret. It was intoxicating, the feeling of clandestiness, it felt like they were spies with a mission.

"But --" I. L. Y. The staccato was restless, unyielding, completely consuming her every fiber. "I can't do this anymore. I want to -- I want to hold you. I want to show you off. I want to kiss you whenever I -- when I want." Eddie cast his eyes down. His possessiveness was something she desired. She relished in knowing that he wanted her to be his. "The riot we'd cause, it'd be funny the first five minutes. But you -- I don't want you throwing away your future, your status, what you've achieved."

"Why should I be throwing away anything?" The rain kept tumbling down. Eddie's hair was sticking to his forehead, his tears missing with the droplets coming from above. Poetic, is what it was, to get her heart broken with the sky cracking down on them.

"You know what I mean. Those scholarships? They come with the price of you being cheer captain, and we're both aware that your life would become living hell in the squad if anyone found out." She wanted to tell him that school wasn't their last stop in life, that it would all be over soon. The drive to be the most popular, the rumors that destroyed reputations, teenagers backstabbing each other to rise above the broken. But Chrissy wasn't dumb, she knew. While school may not have been their last stop, it was certainly their starting point, and if she wanted an advantage in life, she'd need all the support she could get.

"Why can't we --" Why can't we stay friends, at least? Why are you taking everything from me? Why have you taken my barely beating heart into your hands, why did you make it pulse again at every sight of you, just to crush it underneath teenage popularity contests and societal conformity?

"You know why, sweetheart." He kissed her then. Eddie was warm, a safety blanket in a world that clawed at her. His lips were escapism, his breath intoxicating, his love destructive and so right for her.

She wanted to stay like this for eternity, wrapped in the arms of someone she loved so deeply, covered by summer rain, lit up by a barely working street lamp. But Eddie pulled away. First, his lips. Then his hands. Then his gaze. With a dry sob, he turned around.

"I love you, Chrissy Cunningham, but that means I have to let you go. You deserve more than this."

I’m gonna kick Eddie’s ass just you watch.

No omg your writing is so captivating, I can’t believe you just send them straight into my inbox for free? How did I get so lucky? This one is heartbreaking, I never used to like angst but I fear I’m growing obsessed with it lately, as long as I know it’s going to pay off with a happy ending, please tell me they still get their happy ending 🥺

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

A place

A place.

"Can I just check to make sure that the real name of this place was 'The Room.'"

The Room had a name. It did.

A place, then.

"I can't get over how you managed to fuck up so many simple things so quickly. How did you even manage that?"

"I didn't, I did my best."

"No, you didn't. You have the ability and resources to do things right. But you can't do things right. You are a failure. You're worse than a failure. I don't know what you would need to do to become a better failure."

A place.

He was here on the verge of weeping, but also he was laughing. His laugh was full of sadness. It was the sound of someone who was aware that they were laughing only because they believed it to be a funny sort of sad. The sound of someone laughing so hard that they are about to laugh themselves to death. But they've already reached the point of "there is no laughter without tears."

"Can I come in?"

"Do you really want to?"

"I'm not really sure what to do. I mean, I could go somewhere else. I know that there are other rooms. But I feel like I should be here."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"I'm not very good at making decisions. I feel like I'm just making a bad decision over and over again all day."

"Yeah. It kind of is like that, isn't it."

He nodded.

"You're the wrong person to be a decision-maker with. That's just something to expect."

"I agree. And I don't have a plan. I guess I just want to be here."

"Alright. But I'm making a plan."

It was a plan, of course. It was the kind of plan that doesn't have many flaws, because the flaws will only be obvious once the entire thing collapses. The sort of plan that requires the world to turn out the way it was going to. It was also something else, and the world hadn't turned out the way it was going to.

"First, this place is a trap. I knew that. So now that we know that this is a trap, we can go forward from there. So: we know that the thing that killed us was the thing that brought us here. And that means that the thing that killed us was worse. That's good! That means this is a better place. We're in a place that's better than the place from which we came."

"I don't think it's that simple," Oates said. "I don't think it's like that."

She had an odd smile on her face, almost like a pout. She was a strange sort of person, who looked at the world through the lens of her own strange beliefs. He wasn't entirely certain whether it would be better to die or not, at this moment. It might have been. The place might have not been as bad as its reputation. But he couldn't tell. And Oates was trying to tell him, in this way, that the world wasn't simple. She was trying to tell him that he had to make a decision. She wanted him to make one. She was saying "you are trapped here, because the world has decided to trap you here. We should go forward." She wanted him to take a leap of faith. She wanted him to say, "well, I guess I will make a decision. Even if I am wrong, I will at least have made the decision." He didn't feel ready to do that.

"We are in a space here, Oates. Not a place. This place is not a room. It's not a place at all. It's not like anything else."

Her face changed a bit, and she nodded. He didn't really mean anything by it. He wasn't sure whether it was supposed to be a kind of agreement, or some kind of assent. It was the only way he could make sense of it.

"If we have to die, if that is what we are doing, this is what it is like. We are here in this place. We can't get to anywhere else. There is no elsewhere."

"I'm sorry, I don't think this is true."

"We are in this space because we are being killed. It's a space that we are trapped in. Or a space that kills us."

"I thought we were going to get killed. I didn't think we were trapped."

"This is what it is like to be trapped, Oates. This is a space that is trapped. We are trapped in a space that isn't like anything else."

She started to say something. But then he interrupted her.

"I'm tired. Let's not continue this line of conversation right now."

She didn't say anything, but just nodded. He knew she was disappointed.

That was all it was at first. She wasn't angry. She wasn't mad at him.

He felt embarrassed.

"We can start by examining the room," she said. "Or we can examine anything else. The thing we know. Let's start with the room."

"The Room is a place that is not like anything else. The Room killed us. The Room killed a lot of people. It's hard to see it as anything else but a space that kills. It's a space, and that kills. Let's just leave it at that."

Oates didn't look too happy, but she wasn't going to argue. She was not going to press him. For now, she just shook her head, and then went back to the room, and began talking again.

"What killed you was not the room. It was something else that it brought out of you. It was the room as an extension of you, as something that your nature was being forced to produce."

"And what were you, in this place?"

"What were we?"

"Yes, who were we? What is this room?"

She paused.

"I don't know who we were. This place is not like any other place. I don't have an answer for you."

"We are supposed to be in this place, aren't we? That means that we have to be in some part of this place. Where are we? Or not us, but something that is us. A thing that we used to be, that can be used. But I'm saying it this way so that it makes sense. What are we?"

"That depends on where you think we are."

"Where were you?"

"I am in the room. I'm here in the room. You're here in the room. That's where we are. Is

[spidernerdsblog]

Hi 🙋‍♀️I have a request if u take them. Cud u write sth about Tom Holland x singer reader and the reader is performing at the Grammys or sth and the performance and song and costume is like really seggsy and Tom gets jealous??? Idk 🤷‍♀️ Sorry to bother u I just love your writing

Sorry this took me so long was at a lack of ideas. I strongly believe Taylor Swift’s reputation deserved a Grammy. So I'm borrowing her album for the reader. Hope you like this.

Pairing : Tom Holland x Singer! Reader

Warnings : angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive theme, missed typos

Mini Playlist : Endgame by Taylor Swift, There’s nothing holding me back by Shawn Mendes

Baby I'm jealous

You and Tom were seated at the back when your limo pulled over at the venue. You could hear the commotion from the inside even though you have walked numerous red carpets by now but it still seems to be a little nerve racking to you. Especially when this is the first time Tom is accompanying you to the Grammys which is going to be a big deal for the media. The security personnel opened the door and as you stepped out of the car you were flooded with flashing lights from the cameras. 

Tom held out his hand for you, you slipped your arm into his and walked with a dazzling smile posing for the cameras “you look amazing, darling” he knelt down to whisper in your ear. In the meantime a lady journalist came forward to ask you a bunch of questions. 

“So Y/N three nominations this year, how are you feeling?” 

“Well it’s always good to be back here and share the stage with all these talented artists as usual I’m excited and looking forward to the night” you answered.

“We see you have brought company this year” she remarked which had you blushing.

“Yeah, I couldn't think of a better company than him on this very important occasion” you said bashfully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Tom, what do you have to say?” she poses the question to him.

“Uhh I mean she has always been an incredible singer and her songs are the reason that made me fall in love with her in the first place” he replied looking proudly at you.

“Aww you both are adorable. Wish you the best” she said before leaving.

“Thank you so much” you thanked her, walking inside the auditorium and sat on your designated seats. There you were met with lots of your friends from the music industry as you said hi and chatted with them for a while.

“Hey Y/N how are you?!” you heard Shawn from behind as you turned around and went to eagerly hug him. You and Shawn were really good friends from the beginning of your career and you have always been supporting each other’s works.

“I’m good, how are you?” you chirped.

“I’m fine now” he remarked cheekily and went to sit beside you as you started talking catching up on each other totally ignoring Tom. To be honest he was a little annoyed seeing you so over friendly with him but he brushed off his thoughts quickly.

The show began and a few awards were distributed with some performances in between by different artists. You too had to perform for tonight which also included a duet with Shawn and soon your time came as you stood up from your seat to go backstage.

“Best of luck, love” Tom said to boost your confidence.

“Thanks babe” you kissed on his cheek lovingly.

“See you on the stage Y/N” Shawn snickered.

“Oh I’m looking forward to it” you blew him an air kiss and headed backstage to change into your stage outfit. The stage was set and you could hear the loud cheers of the audience from backstage. Truth to be told you always get a little nervous before any public concert but this time it was different because Tom sat there in the audience and you are more excited than nervous to perform. The lights went out and the screen doors slid open as you walked on the stage with the spotlight on you. The notes begin to play as you vocalize striding across the stage with oomph.

I wanna be your endgame

I wanna be your first string

I wanna be your A-Team

I wanna be your endgame, endgame

The crowd cheered as the supporting dancers slowly entered the stage. Tom sat amidst the crowd in awe witnessing you in your full glory. You owned the stage like a queen. He knew you were the prettiest woman he has ever met but the bodycon suit you were wearing accentuated your curves all at the right places.

Big reputation, big reputation

Ooh you and me we got big reputations, ah

And you heard about me, ooh

I got some big enemies

You waltzed around the stage with a sultry look in your eyes, slightly swaying your hips making the crowd go crazy. Tom was very good at keeping his emotions under check but when it comes to you he’s a possessive man so when he heard a few men from the crowd passing comments of how hot and sexy you looked he was fuming from inside. You went on to sing two more songs from your album then transitioned to Shawn’s latest single.

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

“Make some noise for Shawn Mendes!” you cheered as he emerged from the backstage playing the chords on his guitar and the audience screamed at the top of their voice.

I wanna follow where she goes

I think about her and she knows it

I wanna let her take control

'Cause everytime that she gets close, yeah

He sang with his gaze directed at you which didn’t go unnoticed by Tom who was looking at you both with narrowed eyes and clenched jaws. 

She pulls me in enough to keep me guessing (mmm)

And maybe I should stop and start confessing

Confessing, yeah

You joined in singing along the lyrics with him exchanging flirtatious gestures with each other. You encouraged the audience to sing along with you.

Oh, I've been shaking

I love it when you go crazy

You take all my inhibitions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back

You were clearly having a fun time sharing the stage with Shawn as you both swayed to the beat with a wide smile and the crowd cheered you on. Tom heard  someone saying “they make a good pair” and he completely lost it. Now he was jealous even though he knows it’s wrong because you had always made it clear that you loved him more than anything but you in that ravishing outfit dancing and singing being way too comfortable around each other wasn’t helping much. 

Your performance ended after some time and Tom couldn’t be anymore happier. You were back in the audience again as Shawn couldn’t stop praising you “you just set the stage on fire Y/N! It was awesome”

“Oh shut up! You weren’t bad either” you quipped. Tom sat there silently feeling neglected at how you had time to talk with everyone except him. The show ended with you winning the three categories you were nominated for : album of the year, song of the year and artist of the year. You were elated at your achievements as your team escorted you for a photo session. You saw Tom standing at a distance and walked over to him.

“Why are you standing here? Come and stand with me” you said, grabbing his arm.

“No I’m better off standing here rather than being your arm candy” he says bitterly pulling out his arm from your hold.

“What?!” you were slightly taken aback as you looked at him in confusion.

“Hey Y/N!” your manager called out.

“Just a moment!” you told him to wait and dragged Tom to a corner.

“What the hell was that back there?” you hissed at him.

“You know it very well” you shrugged with a disinterested look on his face.

“I-I really don’t understand where this is coming from Tom but are you upset with something?” you were really concerned with his sudden outburst.

“Well isn’t that obvious? When your girlfriend brings you to a public event to treat you like a sidepiece and goes on flirting with her colleagues on stage it is naturally upsetting” he jabbed at you.  

“Are you even listening to what you are saying Tom? Everyone here are my work friends just like you have” you retorted in a hushed tone.

“Well it looked more than just friends” he bit back.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you were totally done with him, fuming at his accusation.

“Y/N come fast!” your manager called you again.

“Yeah coming!” you replied and turned to Tom again “you know what it was actually my fault that I brought you along with me. I thought we were ready to take the next step in our relationship but it clearly doesn’t look like that” you snapped at him and walked back to have your pictures taken. You were stopped by various people, for interviews as well as to congratulate you for your win but you were so annoyed with Tom you couldn’t concentrate properly.

Towards the end of the night, you had almost forgotten about Tom’s comments as you busied yourself into conversations with different people from the industry, sipping on champagne. 

As soon as he cooled down Tom was quick to realize his mistake and tried to approach you several times, but you successfully ignored him by preoccupying yourself elsewhere. He eventually caught up to you, grabbing your arm before you could walk away “Y/N, please. Can we just talk for a second?”

“No I don’t think so because I’m quite busy flirting with each and every guy over here” you snapped, turning to walk away. He grabbed your arm again, “Y/N, c’mon love, I’m really sorry” he whined.

You whipped around “not now Tom. We will talk after we get out of here so if you will excuse me” saying so you walked away to be stopped by a reporter for another interview. The after party ended an hour as you and Tom exited the place. You climbed into the limo, quickly putting up the privacy window. Tom climbed in after you, taking a seat glancing at you.

“What?” you scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. You could tell he was really upset with what he’d said earlier. 

“Y/N.. I can't even explain how sorry I am” he started “I know I was being a dick back there and I feel terrible about it”

You leaned back in your seat sighing “you know what, I'm really tired. Can we talk about this after we reach home?” He nodded silently in agreement without uttering a single word on the drive back.

Once you got home, you walked through the living room and made your way into your shared bedroom. You sat on the bed taking off your heels and massaged your ankles. After sometime Tom joined you in the bedroom. He takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie as you stare at him for a second. He looked so good in formal attire which filled your head with filthy thoughts. How you could have celebrated your win in a different way but he had to ruin it by acting out like that.

“Y/N, I truly am sorry. I.. I have no excuse for my behavior. It was completely my fault” he walked over to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

You sighed deeply and stood up walking over to your walk in closet. Your hands went to your back to reach out to the zipper of your dress “I really didn’t expect this from you at least. Of all the people I thought you would understand since you are in the same line of work” you said with disappointment clear in your voice. Tom hung his head low in shame.

“I know babe it was rude and totally uncalled for. I was a fucking idiot and let my insecurities get the best of me” he said with remorse.

“Then just think about how I feel when I have to watch you making out with other women on screen. I never said anything to you. Instead I always supported you and you on the other hand questioned our relationship just because I was singing and dancing with someone else who happens to be a very good friend of mine” you ranted still struggling with the zipper of your dress “a little help please?” you huffed slightly irritated and angry.

Tom bit back a smile as he walked over to you and helped you unzip your dress. He took your hands in his and pecked on them gently “I didn't mean to ruin the night for you” he apologized, looking down at your hands.

You pulled out your hands and crossed your arms “well it wasn’t that bad given that I won three Grammys but I wished you were there by my side” you said completely forgetting that you were standing there in just your strapless bra and very tiny pair of lace underwear.

Tom was eyeing you the whole time with a known smirk plastered on his face. You noticed that and looked down at yourself “oh, c’mon. I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!” you scoffed, throwing your hands in the air. You shook your head in annoyance and grabbed the black silk robe, tying it around your body.

Tom was broken out of his trance as he walked over to you, placing a hand on your cheek “Y/N believe me I’m really sorry. I wish I could take back all the horrible things I said to you. You didn’t deserve any of it. Sorry for being such a jerk to you”

Your expression softened as you held his hand gently “well I’m glad to hear that. And even if I try I can’t stay mad at you for a longtime so apology accepted” you said with a smile. 

“Thank you darling it would never happen again I promise” he says stroking his thumb on your cheek bone as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips “and I mean it” he stated a hand reaching up to untie your robe as your robe fell open, your breath hitched “though it was slightly your fault too, how do you expect me to not get jealous seeing you with someone else looking so bloody gorgeous in that outfit?” he hooked his index finger under the silk on your shoulder, pulling the robe down slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin “but I’m really sorry” he whispers in a husky tone. 

“Then prove it” you looked at him challengingly, a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without any further delay Tom crashed his lips to yours effortlessly lifting you up by your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

...........................................................

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Mercenary- Cersei Lannister

Pairing: Cersei Lannister x Reader

Characters: Cersei Lannister

Warnings: N/A

Request: Wattpad- Can you maybe do one where the reader is one of the new mercenaries Cersei has brought and they meet while the reader is sparring with a few fellow mercenaries. Maybe a little subtle flirting and rude teasing as well? Cheers!

Word Count: 448

Author: Charlotte

It wasn’t a common job for a woman to have as a mercenary, but you took great pleasure in the expressions of your employers, allies or foes when they realised you were of the fairer sex. You had been hired by Queen Cersei to protect her as she believed that many people were going to try to hurt her, but knowing of her, it didn’t surprise you, and it wouldn’t surprise you if work would be coming your way to take her life but as long as the gold was coming from her, she was safe from your hands. You hadn’t met her, but your reputation preceded you and she sought you out.

Even though you were one of the best at what you did, you trained daily and that was where you were to meet the queen. You were sparring in your full armour, an easy task for you, no one nearby being able to be a challenge, but you enjoyed training, nevertheless. As you floored your opponent you noticed the queen approach.

“So, you are the one with such a high price,” she commented. “I must say your training showed that you are worth the gold.”

You removed your helmet, letting your long hair fall from it in a slight mess as it had been forced within the heavy metal.

“As long as you are filling my pocket, your majesty, I am here at your beck and call to keep you safe from any danger,” you stated.

The queen cocked an eyebrow at you, clearly surprised by your appearance.

“A woman? I have never seen a woman who can fight as well as my knights although I do appreciate that you know you are here to serve me,” she smirked.

“Serving your every need is my honour, your majesty- for the right price that is,” you commented, letting her know that money was your language and you were willing to continue to be her sword as long as she wanted to keep you well paid.

“I can only imagine your talents elsewhere, like in the bedroom perhaps,” she said, knowing what she wanted and knowing she would easily be able to get it.

“Perhaps we shall see, your majesty, but without an explicit invite to your bed chambers, I do not believe it would be honourable for me to simply arrive unannounced.”

Cersei nodded her head at you. “Then I shall invite you to accompany me to my bed chambers tonight, who knows who could be lurking along the hallways.”

“Yes, who knows.”

With a shared look, you knew how your night would end but weren’t going to say much more about it due to company.

[wasabito]

thank you to @sparkexplosive and @vs-redemption for beta reading it for me! merry christmas & happy holidays everyone ♥️

➽ synopsis: being a member of the royal guard is a grueling and thankless job, so you decide to remind katsuki a little of what it’s like to be young again—what better way to do that than with some healthy competition.

➽ word count: 1.7k

➽ tags: fluff, budding romance, royalty au, childhood friends

➽ author’s note: i had a ton of fun participating in my first ever secret santa!! this is my gift-fic to the lovely @katsushimaa​ hope you enjoy, yssa!

"So, this is where the hell you've been hiding?"

His voice tore through the midday stillness like a blade, equal parts raspy and gruff. He sounded irritated and mildly fatigued. Not that Katsuki Bakugou would ever admit to being anything less than a hundred and ten percent. He climbed off his steed, heavy boots crunching under the weight of his feet, and secured his horse against the stump you were leaning on.

You flipped the page of your book, not sparing the man even a cursory glance. You would prefer to keep your attention occupied by fictitious worlds, warriors, and battles fought in the name of love and justice.

It was much easier to allow yourself to become the bearer of fictional hardships, because at least they could be solved through a well-constructed plot with each turn of a page, as opposed to the realities of your actual life, a slow spiraling disaster in comparison.

Bakugou stood in front of you, vein ticking on his throat with every clench of his jaw. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, red gaze pinned on your hunched form. He wasn't at all the kind of person anyone could easily ignore. His very presence demanded attention and drew eyes like a magnet.

Case in point, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, you simply couldn’t.

"Please tell me you aren't going to stand there the entire time. Take a hint will you." You went to turn another page, but Bakugou reached over and snatched the book from your hands with deft fingers and speed you couldn't hope to match.

"Give. It. Back."

"Nah, I don't think I will just yet." He sneered, thumbing through the pages. "I was told to bring your dumbass back to the estate, so that's exactly what the hell I'm 'bout to do."

You blew a puff of air from your lips, eyes blazing with a kind of defiance that only burned harder the more you glared at him. "Then I guess you'll just have to drag me back kicking and screaming."

Bakugou only smirked, teeth spread in a feral grin that sent a chill down your spine.

That had always been his intention.

Almost an hour later, you stood before your parents, clothes dusty, creased, and smudged from having been manhandled like a sack of flour before promptly dumped in front of your waiting audience.

A frown marred your delicate features as they began their lecture.

Your mind drifted elsewhere the more they reminded you of your lineage and that you were royalty and how it was imperative you behave as such. You’d heard it all before, known this for as long as you could remember. As the King and Queen of your home country, your parents never failed to emphasize the importance of keeping your every move in check because of the reputation you had to uphold.

Katsuki stood somewhere behind you, and although he stayed mostly silent, you could almost hear him grinding away at his molars. The King and Queen were taking turns subtly digging into him as well, implying that his incompetence was a stain upon the royal guard perfect record of achievements. If he couldn't keep you in line, what was the point of holding rank?

They annoyed him way more than they did you, but he dare not voice it, not if he wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders. Far be it from him to send himself to the guillotine

You both were in for a long night.

“Honestly, this kind of behavior is unbecoming of someone of your status. What will our countrymen think if they see you roaming about unattended like a vagabond?” Your father stroked his beard as if waiting for a response. But everyone in the room knew he really just liked to hear himself talk.

He was no better than a machiavellian swindler in expensive robes. A puppet if you would.

The real leader of the land was your mother. After all, she had only married into the family, having been the daughter of a mere advisor with no royal blood. She spoke little, but her glare was more than enough to convey just what she was thinking.

By the end of the lecture, you felt like all of your energy had been sapped from you, but thankfully your parents left you to retreat into your bedroom for the remainder of the day. Bakugou escorted you, following close behind.

“You’re gonna do it again, aren’t ya?”

You paused, foot nearly catching against the carpeted floors of your bedroom. Fiddling with a piece of your hair, you shrugged. “...maybe.”

“You’re a huge idiot.” Bakugou shook his head with a low laugh.

A tiny smidgen of a grin danced on your lips as you considered him. He was your childhood friend. No one knew you better than he did. And he was also the guard most assigned to watch over you and keep you safe from harm.

Despite that, you’d come to notice how much he’d changed. He wasn’t the same Katsuki you grew up knowing and you missed him dearly. Occasions like this, where a part of his guard was let down, were becoming few and far between. There had to be something you could do.

“Let’s make a wager. If you can manage to find me, I’ll do one thing at your command.”

“Challenge accepted.” He reached into the folds of his uniform, pulled out your little novel, and slapped it right into your open palm. "No matter where you run off to, I'll find ya. Trust me on that, princess."

His eyes were like candles in the night, ignited by a spark of passion. Not a single lie could be detected.

"I won't make it easy on you, Katsuki, just so you know."

"Heh, you better not." He sniffed, tucking his hands into his uniform pockets. And with a final half-wave, he was gone.

In and around the capital city, winter had completely lost it's bite. The weather was tepid, swinging a mild breeze that coasted through the countryside. It was the sort of winter where one felt as if woolen clothing were worn more for comfort than necessity. In what should have been the chilliest part of the year, Bakugou found himself traversing one of the many beaches that hedged the southern peninsula.

After a full week following the challenge issued in your bedroom, Bakugou realized you were entirely too good at evading him or any of the other guards at the kingdom’s disposal, for that matter.

Day in and day out, he spent his shifts searching tirelessly for you, just to stumble upon you in the most random of places and only when you had wanted him to find you. The running score was six to five in your favor, but he was determined not to lose to you again.

And there you were, standing at the very edge of the shore, as if a mere thought had manifested you right before his very eyes. Your loose billowing dress of soft satin waved to him like a white flag of surrender in the air. He'd finally found you.

"Not gonna run off this time?"

"Nope! You won this round." Your cheeks creased in a smile.

Given the boots he'd worn, it was no surprise that his feet kept sinking into the sand. You said nothing as he toed off his shoes and socks, bare feet settling into the depths of warm, grainy sand.

He couldn’t help but feel more relaxed. Over the past few months, he’d found himself losing sight of his goals, caught in the dredges of the mundane and routine.

The cool waters lapped at both his and your feet, fizzing and bubbling, leaving behind traces of salt. You went further into the water’s touch, your back to him as the tides licked at the your calves. Even he had to admit, the view was a beautiful one, possibly even more so with you against the backdrop.

“I’m glad you found me,” you called over the cry of seagulls. “For a second, I was worried you’d lose this round.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Tch, as if I’d ever lose to you, princess.”

“Naturally.” You laughed.

“What the hell are we doing out here anyway?”

He knelt to roll up his pants, a mere moment away from following after you like always.

“I... really just wanted to show you the view. Do you remember when we used to come down here as kids? Remember how we used to dare each other to see who could go the farthest into the ocean?”

Of course he remembered. Those were some of his most cherished memories of his time spent with you before duty to the kingdom took precedent.

You reached a hand out to him, an open invitation. “I just thought you needed a little reminder of what that was like.”

For some reason, Katsuki was determined not to meet your gaze, scowling at some point on the horizon, until you came over and nudged him with your elbow. “It wouldn’t kill you to admit that I’m right.”

With a sigh, he reached over and tugged you into a hug. You snuggled close to his chest, gripping the back on his uniform. It may have been your imagination but you could’ve sworn you felt the soft press of lips against your temple.

“Thanks... you know... for everything.”

Beaming, you leaned back to get the full view of his heated cheeks.

“Of course, of course.”

There was something earnest in his eyes that told you no matter how far you went, or however far you traveled, he’d always be a step behind you. It sent your heart hammering in your ribcage. You were suddenly all too aware of the way he held you secure against him like he would never let go.

“What are you thinking, princess?”

You blinked owlishly, taken over by your feelings and mumbling a hushed. “Oh, nothing.” The two of you were just a royal and a guard, bound to one another by duty.

If there could be anything more than that...well, only time would tell.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

When We Were Young Part Three

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader Rating: T Notes: Not beta-read I just wanted to thank everyone for the likes/comments/reblogs!! I really appreciate it! Warnings: Uuuuuh none Summary: “Have you seen this?” You turned around to see Sherlock holding up the Pall Mall Gazette. You strode forward, holding your hand out for it.

Your next day was spent looking in on your aunt (your father’s sister, Mary - a kind woman, but always troubled with some illness; she would spend nearly an hour describing it to you and then say, “But I don’t want to bore you with that, dearie, it’s a trouble for an old woman”), as well as meeting with one of the investors that your father had asked you to speak with. You’d taken over the use of Cornelius’ study while you were in town, and had hoped that the atmosphere would soften the man’s attitude toward you. Unfortunately, it hadn’t had the desired effect. The man had been rude and condescending. It had taken everything in your power to keep your head and not snap at the man in the way you wanted to. As irritated as you were, this was your father’s livelihood, and the way he kept a roof over all your heads. That being said, you were in an awful mood when your Uncle informed you of a visitor. “Who is it?” You asked. Cornelius chuckled at your dark tone. “No need to look so dour. It’s your friend, Mr. Holmes,” He said. You hesitated before turning to answer him. “Which Mr. Holmes?” You asked. “The detective, not the politician,” He reassured you. You nodded. “Send him in, then,” You agreed. As soon as Cornelius was out of the room, you found yourself turning to check your reflection in the glass of the cabinet, reaching up to tuck away a stray hair. You immediately felt ridiculous. Sherlock wasn’t there to see you, he was there to tell you about what he knew about Enola. You huffed, resting your hands on your hips and turning away from the cabinet. Surely it was the meeting with your father’s investor earlier that had you so riled. Your hands absently smoothed over the skirt of your dress before you raised a hand to fiddle with the cameo on your choker. You heard the door open and you lowered your hand, resting it on the back of a chair. You opened your mouth to greet him, but he spoke up before you could. “Who did it?” 

He’d hardly been there a moment and he was already throwing around questions.

“Excuse me?” You asked. “Who upset you?” He pressed. You had expected Cornelius to come in behind him, but the door closed, leaving the two of you alone. You knew that your mother would have a fit if she found out you were alone with a man, especially when her brother was meant to be looking after you. It was one thing for Sherlock to come and speak with you alone when you were in your own home. Your parents were always wary of what may happen to you and your reputation when you traveled - “People talk in London,” Your mother would always sniff (as if the country was entirely free of gossip). “What makes you think I’m upset?” You asked. Sherlock strode further into the study, looking you over openly. You didn’t have a book to hide behind this time, though, and despite the fact that you were wearing several layers of clothing, you felt very exposed. “You mean beyond your inability to keep still?” He asked. “I haven’t moved since you came in,” You argued. “Your fingers haven’t stopped tapping on that chair,” Sherlock nodded toward your hand. You hadn’t even noticed you started, and you immediately pressed the pads of your fingers into the leather of the chair to still them. “Your shoulders are pulled incredibly tight,” Sherlock added, continuing to come closer. “I value good posture,” You excused. “You're flushed...And your jaw is clenched,” Sherlock added, stopping right in front of you. You immediately relaxed your jaw, but the redness in your face, well. There was nothing you could do about that. “...Have you heard anything about Enola?” You asked, choosing not to address his initial question of who had upset you. Sherlock watched you for a few seconds as if waiting for you to crack. Then he hummed thoughtfully, brushing past you to go the desk. You felt your shoulders relax as he did; you hadn’t even realized how tense you were. You hated how easily he could read those things on you - but you reminded yourself that he could read those things on anyone.

“Have you seen this?” You turned around to see Sherlock holding up the Pall Mall Gazette. You strode forward, holding your hand out for it. He passed it to you before he unbuttoned his jacket, leaning back against the desk. You skimmed the article he’d opened to: Disturbance on London Express. Two Boys Leap From Train. Your brow furrowed as you turned away from him, paper in hand as you began to read it to yourself in a mutter: “There was a report of a disturbance on a London bound train yesterday morning. The London express train had left Basilweather station at 9:15, and was bound for the city when passengers witnessed two boys and a man with a bowler hat moving around the carriages excitedly and with much haste--” “You still read aloud to yourself?” You ear caught on the teasing in Sherlock’s tone and you grumbled, “Shush,” Before you went on reading in silence. You’d skimmed the article that morning, but it hadn’t caught your eye the way it had Sherlock’s. You unfolded the paper when you finished, eyes darting to the article on the Marquess that was reported missing before you rejoined Sherlock at the desk, pressing the paper into his chest wordlessly. You had intended to move your hand away, assuming he’d catch the paper quickly enough, but his hand quickly covered yours, keeping it there. It wasn’t for more than a moment or two, but it felt like ages. You never went into public without your gloves, rarely met with men or had occasion to touch a gentleman’s hand besides. Now Sherlock’s thumb brushed over your bare knuckles, the pads of his fingers fanning out over the back of your hand. It was a simple touch, innocent and soft, but it set your blood singing. You slipped your hand out from under his, picking up a stack of mail that had been deposited on the side of the desk and beginning to leaf through it. In truth, you’d already done this once, half an hour ago, but you needed something to keep your eyes off of Sherlock’s and your hands away from his. “...Thoughts?” He asked. You could hear him refolding the paper. “You know these matters better than I. I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve had to go looking for someone that didn’t want to be found,” You answered. “Perhaps not, but you’ve spent more time with Enola than I have in these last few years.” “Yes, and whose fault is that?” You volleyed back dryly, turning a letter over and inspecting the wax seal. When Sherlock didn’t answer, you glanced up to find him frowning and staring ahead. “Your jaw is clenched,” You informed him, reaching up and tapping at the tight muscle with the letter. Sherlock cut you a sharp look, and you smiled sweetly before you lowered your eyes back to the mail, tossing the letter onto the desk. “If that was her, she’ll have changed her disguise by now,” You added, “Your sister isn’t stupid. She knows that that incident will have caught some people’s attention.” “I know that she’s not stupid,” Sherlock snapped. You regarded him carefully out of the corner of your eye. There was only one person that could get a rise out of Sherlock when you were children - you had been his favorite target then, and Sherlock let him at it, as long as it meant Sherlock got some peace. You weighed your options before deciding to play your hunch. “What did Mycroft say?” You asked knowingly. Sherlock directed his gaze elsewhere in the room, clearly displeased at being caught out. “He doesn’t want me looking for Enola...And he’ll send her to boarding school once she’s found.” You shook your head, muttering, “Smarmy bastard,” Unable to help yourself. You had looked away, and didn’t see Sherlock’s slight smile at your curse. “She’d hate it there,” You added more loudly, “There’s no freedom, no way for you to be yourself. Mycroft may think that what he’s doing is for Enola’s own good, but... Being sent to one feels like a punishment.” “How would you know? You had a governess,” Sherlock grunted. You pursed your lips, nodding. “I did... Until my mother deemed me un-governable.” You felt the weight of Sherlock’s frown as it was turned on you in full force. “I didn’t know you were sent away,” He said. “Well, how would you? You never came back,” The bitterness and hurt seeped into your tone, unbidden. “You stopped writing,” Sherlock’s rebuttal spoken more harshly than you’d expected, and you turned to him with fire in your eyes. “You never answered,” You snapped. There was a knock at the door, and it only gave you two a second’s warning before Cornelius’ cheerful self popped inside.

“All well in here?” “Quite,” Sherlock answered brusquely. Both men went silent, waiting for your confirmation, but you never gave it, instead pretending to re-immerse yourself in the letters in your hands. Cornelius cleared his throat. “I hate to intrude, but we'll be having guests over for dinner this evening and I’m sure it’ll take my niece some time to get ready. Frills and frippery and all that.” You rolled your eyes, unable to help it. You’d had quite enough with men’s assumptions for one day. “I do hope you enjoy yourselves.” Sherlock’s tone was very flat, matter-of-fact, and you were almost certain he didn’t mean it. “Oh, you know how these things are. Business for the men, pleasure for the women,” Cornelius tutted, “Though Lord Dawson will be there and he and a certain someone seem to be quite keen on one another.” You scoffed quietly, tossing another letter onto the desk for the sake of throwing something. Lord Dawson was an egotistical bore, but a well-moneyed one, and someone that your mother was pressuring you to marry.

“I believe my brother has been meaning to become acquainted with Lord Dawson for some time,” Sherlock commented.

“Well, then you and Mycroft ought to join us for dinner this evening!” Cornelius offered. “No!” You said sharply. You froze, feeling both Sherlock and Cornelius turn their attention to you.

You turned your head to look at your uncle, lips pursed. “Mr. Holmes is in the middle of a case, he’ll be far too occupied to join us for dinner,” You glanced over at Sherlock, adding, “Won’t you.” Sherlock nodded. “Your niece is right, I am currently in the thick of a case,” He said, looking at Cornelius. You relaxed, turning back to the letters, satisfied...Until Sherlock continued, “But I will have to eat sometime, as will Mycroft. We’d be glad to join you.” Your hands tightened on the letters, fighting the urge to reach up and smack Sherlock over the head with the lot of them. “Splendid!” Cornelius grinned, “We will send a formal invitation around to your brother, of course.” “I will excuse myself, then, and give you all time to prepare,” Sherlock straightened from the desk. He turned back to you, leaning in and tapping a finger against your cheek with a murmur of, “Your jaw is clenched, dove.” You gave him your most murderous look, but he was already striding toward the door to bid your Uncle Cornelius a good day. Tag list: @run-through-wa11s ; @thefallenbibliophilequote ; @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem