#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.

[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.

[garnetblackwater]

The Rustle of Leaves

Human female x forest guardian

Chapter 5-A Wandering Mind

The week following was a blur for Vanessa. Most weeks were fairly monotonous, going to lectures either as a student or teaching assistant, grading papers, just general college things, but this week was different. Monday was full of excitement, of course everyone was losing their minds over the blatant head wound covered in a bandage, shoulder bandaged, and band aids covering her legs. Her friends were constantly asking if she needed anything, especially one Carter Rosmund aka Cyclops, much to his chagrin. He had made many arguments for other x-men, mostly wolverine, but they always fell on deaf ears. Carter stood at 6 foot 3 and genetics had been kind to him. Sun kissed skin, short brown hair, broad shoulders, and blue eyes. He wasn’t extremely buff but he obviously took care of his body, and others noticed. But he only had eyes for one person.

“Vanessa what happened? You sent that picture then radio silence. Are you alright?” He reached for her face to give it a once over.

Vanessa pulled his hands away, “It looks worse than it actually is. I just fell a bit.” 

“Just? And how does one fall a bit?” Carter asked skeptically.

“Well. You know. You slip on an outcropping, tumble a bit, and then pass out for an hour or two,” the last few words lost in a mumble.

“Ness!” Vanessa cringed at the nickname, “Did you go to a hospital? Do you still need to?” Carter was uneasy, “I’m sure Professor X will be fine with us missing class considering the way you look.”

“You worry too much. I was checked over and I’m fine. Now let's go before we are late. I have a reputation to uphold.” And Vanessa marched on ahead of him. 

She really was fine, all thanks to Ten. Whatever he had done really did take the pain away. The wounds were still healing but they didn’t slow her down. 

She was lost to her thoughts again. The memory of Ten. The gentleness of his touch. The surprising warmth of him. She could feel that same warmth swim over her and settle in her chest. She could feel his lips ghost over her knuckles again. It all swam through her head, along with the worry. Worry of what was to come, and what she was to give in return.

“Ness you sure you don’t need me to get anything for you? You haven't been able to focus all day, let alone hear anything I’ve said.” Carter had been hovering around any free moment he had since the morning. He offered his arm for her to lean on.

“My legs work just fine. I can get around no problem. I just have a lot on my mind.” Vanessa kept walking towards the library. 

“You’re not feeling light headed? Need to lie down or anything?” Carter stopped in front of her looking into her eyes. He started to reach for her face.

“Calm down jeeze. You’re like a helicopter mom. I’m fine, I swear. Don’t you have class?” She swatted his hand away, and kept walking.

Carter checked his watch, she was right, but he didn’t want to go. “If you need anything just ask, got it? Even if it's just to talk.” His tone was serious. Vanessa knew that wasn’t an option. She knew Carter’s intentions were good and that his heart was in the right place but..

How long before an inch becomes a mile? Best to keep distance.

“Okay Dad whatever you say. I’m fine, just go.” Vanessa missed the way he hesitated at her words. Didn’t see the need in his eyes, but the focus of her mind was elsewhere. No matter what she did her mind trailed back to the forest. Everything happened so fast and it was so unclear. The uncertainty made her anxious. Her sleeping was sporadic and her focus nonexistent. Any free time she had was spent pouring through books and various websites looking for any answer to put her at ease. Before she knew it, it was Friday night. She was in her kitchen with Sandy baking. Sandy had decided on berry muffins, mostly because she had a craving for some, but they were also very portable. “I mean who doesn't like muffins? Especially blueberry muffins, ya know? Classic. Delicious. Van, are you even listening?”

Vanessa was pulled from her thoughts as she was taking the last batch out of the oven.”Listening to what? You stuff your face while I do all the work?” Sandy gave an over the top gasp. “I’m sorry Cheeks, I’m just nervous for tomorrow.” 

“Nervous for what? Wait. Hold up. Was he hot? The guy that saved you. Need a wingman?” Sandy joked but Vanessa’s stomach turned at her words. She had no idea what would happen once she went back. Her mind had jumped through many hoops during the week, some not so savory. 

Vanessa took a deep breath, hoping to stop the incessant spiral of her thoughts, “I promise I don’t need a wing man. Though he was definitely good looking.” Vanessa could not deny that she held a level of attraction for Ten. Even when her thoughts went to unsavory places, she did not always mind. There was also a level of comfort she felt when he held her. She remembered his gentle touch, but also the way he held her. Secure and safe? It only made her nerves spur on. 

Sandy’s eyes sparkled with glee, “Oh shit! Okay Van Van, let's get your man then!” The rest of the night was fueled by Sandy’s determination. Outfit planning, plans to get them alone, any scheme to get him to notice. 

The drive the next morning was anything but quiet. While Vanessa could feel the pit of despair in her stomach, Sandy was absolutely jamming!

“Van Van you have to get in the mood! Pump yourself up!” Sandy bobbed her head and shimmied her shoulders. “Come on Van!” Vanessa gave in and danced along with her. Maybe Sandy was right, just have to get in the right mood.

[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

[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 🥺

[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?"

[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 ❤️

[milfuen]

looking for outside help

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ࿐ྂ “In places such as this, you only encounter the people you see here once.” His smile twisted into a smirk. “It makes it convenient for us, doesn’t it?”

Emmeline hadn’t expected to see him just walking about. She thought she would have had to ask for an appointment in the Tenryou Commission to even get a glimpse of him, but here he was in all his glory, going on a stroll and not looking like the detective he was.

She pressed her lips together, not trusting herself to keep herself out of his radar. It was likely that he already knew she was following him and that he was luring her. The detective was an intelligent man, who relied on his sharp intuition. He’d take her request, yes, but cooperation was a different story.

Her request was related to the trouble she caused in Mondstadt because she did tell Albedo she would get some help. Heizou was known to be a reliable detective. A detective usually didn’t dabble in non-worldly affairs such as anything related to the elements or the Ley Lines, but this particular one had a reputation. His interest would be enough to receive his help.

Emmeline wondered whether she would hide in the flow of the people in the street or just pursue him—restrain him before he could do anything. The latter wasn’t an option. She had no strength to make up for such thoughts. Additionally, his movements were starting to become unnatural. Heizou now walked slowly, light on his feet as he stared only at the path before him, sticking close to buildings that lined the edges of the street.

It was her fault for staring so openly at him.

Clicking her tongue, she ditched the plan to mask herself and simply ran and tugged on his arm. The detective stopped in his tracks, and so did Emmeline, pressing her lips to a thin line. She really couldn’t trust herself. Who would even succeed in stealth when in front of such an intuitive person?

“Is there anything you want?” Emmeline couldn’t see Heizou’s face, but his expression betrayed what the bulletin boards said about him. Hearsay was always hearsay, but he was still carefree. He did whatever he wanted—just the quality his vision represented. Right now, he lacked a smile on his face.

She let go of his arm, and Heizou turned to face her, head tilted. She noticed he had a mole under both of his eyes. It made him pretty. Even in the dim lighting of the lamps hanging from a building, she could see him. His face showed an unamused expression, waiting for her to speak.

“I would—” Emmeline blinked. “I would like to request your assistance, Shikanoin Heizou.” She was being extremely polite with her words, but she’d do anything to make sure he could help her. The reason was unexplainable, but Fate told her not to let him go.

“Oh?” Heizou looked thoughtful. He should have noticed. The way she didn’t address him using his title despite how she delivered her words. It wasn’t merely a matter concerning the Detective Heizou, she also wanted the help of the person that was Shikanoin Heizou. Apart from finding exactly what she needed, there was something else in her mind.

Heizou didn’t know what it was.

Emmeline knew she had captured his interest. The look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. The olive green reflection of herself looked confident as well. Fate had never failed her before. Trust was where that confidence stemmed. In the force no one could control, and she was no exception to that. It was why she was a pawn to it.

“Let’s take this elsewhere, Shikanoin.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Heizou asked, a skip in his step as he looked back at Emmeline. So this was the Heizou the bulletin boards talked about. Carefree. One who didn’t take the basic responsibilities of a Doushin seriously. One who would only be there for cases that required him.

Emmeline chuckled. “Food is probably the last thing on my mind right now.” She ate a lot in one day. Today . She still felt full even after walking from Tenryou to Hanamizaka and back. 

“Well, I hope you still have room in your stomach. Let’s eat dinner!” Heizou laughed, leading her further into Inazuma. They went into different alleys and streets until they came across what looked like a diner. It looked just like any Inazuman diner, but Heizou must like the food here if he chose this place specifically.

Shikanoin Heizou showed his smile for the first time and stepped aside to let Emmeline enter. She hadn’t expected it, so she spent a few moments blinking at him, thoughts completely shut down. Even as an immortal, she wasn’t immune to the effects of being before a pretty face.

Charming, huh? He must know how to use it. If only people spent less time disliking him to appreciate his appearance.

The diner had warm lighting and traditional decorations. It didn’t look distinct. It was as if the owner never even tried to make the place appealing to passers-by. It only had enough room for ten people at most, and only two tables were occupied. It looked just like any Inazuman diner .

“Is there anything you want to eat?” The charming smile was back on his face. Emmeline looked to her left; the other people in the diner were staring at them without trying to hide it. She then focused on his eyes. Olive green, and laced with amusement.

He smiled because there were people around. Lesser people meant there was a higher chance they would stare at him, and he was more prone to attention due to his Tenryou Commission uniform. The more people who knew him, the better. It was easy enough to dress casually for non-work-related business, but he didn’t do it. He never did. The uniform was all that he wore. This meeting could be considered work-related but Emmeline never intended for him to make a report about it, hence the absence of a title when she spoke to him. She needed Shikanoin Heizou.

Additionally, a report would complicate things. She wasn’t a citizen of Inazuma, and she wasn’t well-versed in the laws regarding a foreigner contracting a local detective for foreign work. All she knew was that it would spell trouble. Both for the Tenryou Commission and her. She knew Ei could intervene when necessary, but she hadn’t been planning on announcing her presence to the Archon either, even when she wanted to. Ei didn’t look into the common cases in the Tenryou Commission, so if she were to know of her being in Inazuma, it would be because she had no identification.

Emmeline put her chin on her palm, resting her elbow on the table. “I have no preference.” She left out the fact that she was already full from the day’s earlier meals. It didn’t hurt to eat the food the number one detective liked. That was, if he frequented here. She would think most people would default to their favorite places to take new acquaintances to when the situation called for it. It was only courtesy.

Then again, the detective hadn’t bragged about the taste of the food. Why would he take her so far just for this place then? They passed a lot of restaurants and diners on the way to this one, and some of them were full of people. It was a little suspicious, thinking about it.

Either way, there was no harm done in letting him do whatever he wanted. He was a part of law enforcement—albeit only when such law enforcement adhered to his principles—so he could be trusted. Any personal agenda of his wouldn’t hurt any of Emmeline’s plans.

“Hey,” Heizou greeted her with a smile on his face. He leaned over her, letting her get the perfect view of his face from above and the beauty marks she noticed earlier.

Emmeline nodded in response, not quite feeling like answering. They wouldn’t be able to speak properly without food on their table. “Aren’t you worried about privacy, Shikanoin?” she asked, eyes following his figure as he moved to sit in front of her. He appeared thoughtful yet uncaring at the same time.

He waved a dismissive hand. “No one here will be able to use the information we will talk about.”

“Of course.” She still was skeptical though. “Do you like the food here?”

Heizou shrugged. “It isn’t any better elsewhere.” His right hand came to rest on the table’s surface, and he let his index finger tap a consistent rhythm on it. It was barely audible, so it disturbed no one.

“Then why here?”

“In places such as this, you only encounter the people you see here once.” His smile twisted into a smirk. “It makes it convenient for us, doesn’t it?”

He was smart. By now, he probably already caught on to the fact that Emmeline didn’t have any records in the information channel. Not in Inazuma and anywhere else in Teyvat. That made her a suspicious figure. But he trusted her enough to help her with the location of their discussion . . . or did he? It was alright with Kamisato Ayaka because she was a well-known person and the teahouse was a private area, as well as Uyuu Restaurant because she’d been under surveillance, which Takayuki confirmed.

Emmeline’s eyes narrowed. “You’re quite perceptive, Detective.”

Heizou laughed. “I do not know what you’re talking about, client .” She hummed at the way his eyes moved over her. It wasn’t precisely scathing, but it wasn’t friendly either. But Emmeline could do nothing to ease his suspicion. They might have to treat each other with distrust during their partnership—as fleeting as it was.

“Emmeline.”

He tilted his head, smiling. “Shikanoin Heizou,” he offered, “though you already know that.”

Then, silence. Pin-drop silence . Heizou was looking at the kitchen area, waiting for their food to be served. Emmeline didn’t have anything to look at. Only Heizou. The silent detective in front of her. When she thought of meeting Heizou, this wasn’t the thing on her mind. When Fate showed him to her, she didn’t expect this.

Nevertheless, he was still important.

“You know things, right?” Heizou muttered, olive eyes drifting lazily to meet hers. His lips were pressed together. “You knew who I am, despite not having stepped on the lands of this nation until today. You knew my popularity, and chose to target me specifically instead of the other detectives in the Tenryou Commission with much more reputable—” he paused, tilting his head, “without a knack for trouble.”

Emmeline’s eyes widened. It was astonishing to hear his accurate deductions. She realized he didn’t earn his position in the Tenryou Commission and his reputation because of nothing. It was because of his intellect and almost-inhumane intuition.

“Impressed?” Heizou supplied, a sly grin on his face.

Emmeline raised an eyebrow. “Surprised, mostly.”

“Is there any truth in my words?” Well, Emmeline wouldn’t confirm anything he already knew. He trusted his intuition because it came to the point where everything it would tell him was the truth.

“Do you believe your words to be true?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “I am confident in my ability. Based on your reaction, everything I just said was truthful. You are free to dispute my words, of course.” He held a hand out, eyebrows raising as he closed his eyes.

Emmeline chuckled. “The Anemo Archon chooses rather interesting individuals to receive their blessing, huh?”

“Do you know the Anemo Archon?”

“Everyone does.” She shrugged. Because who didn’t know the existence of the one presiding over Mondstadt? Perhaps she did know him personally—but that had been eons ago. The Anemo Archon changed like the winds that blew through the land. The one she knew was different from the one of the present.

After the Stormterror incident, she was certain a few memories would surface in his head. That he was once warned. He had known what was going to happen. However, it wouldn’t be enough for him to put a name and a face to the one who supposedly told him about the happenings of his future. She was also certain that he’d forgotten about it by now.

Dvalin is alright now, there’s no use dwelling in such memories , was what he would think. Sometimes, the memory would resurface, but it would only frustrate him. It had no use to him anymore, so why did it keep coming back? Then he would consume his favored Dandelion Wine as he always did, subconsciously lingering on that memory.

Memory.

Even a single millisecond of memory lost in the voids of time could prove to be detrimental to a person. It should be minor, but with that consequence, it was dangerous. Kazuha would be dwelling Inazuma, constantly asking himself a question he would not have an answer for. Maybe he would voyage to find an answer, but wandering was his priority. He’d forget eventually, but just like Venti, it would keep returning to him. Forgetting was almost like a curse.

Emmeline didn’t want to subject them to such torture, but she had to. Her impact in this world must be minimal. The incident in Dragonspine was more than what she could handle, and that was why she needed to fix it. If she could fill in the missing pieces in their memory and have them not include her, she would do it in a heartbeat. But Fate provided her with no solution.

She had stopped feeling guilty long ago.

“Fate’s prophecy.” Emmeline looked up. “What do you think of it?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“You’re right.” She imagined the stars in her eyes, the way they all screamed at her to fulfill their demands. Noise. “But I can’t do anything about it. Fighting your deities is hard for you Archons. It’s the same for me. I am born of stardust, they can decide whether to let me disappear like stardust. I would be a forgotten memory.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Fulfilling the prophecy bothers me.” Emmeline shrugged. “My death . . . not so much.”

“More than ever, you need someone who remembers you. Someone that isn’t me.”

“We’ll see about that, yeah?”

The other person sighed. “You aren’t taking me seriously.”

“My memory remaining on this land is a rather selfish wish.” Emmeline pressed her lips together.

“No one will remember you.”

“You will, Morax.”

A milkshake was before her. It was tinted in a pink color, much unlike the prevailing Lavender Melon in the land. On Heizou’s side was a bowl of ramen and between them was a plate of yakitori.

“This doesn’t look like Lavender Melon.”

“It isn’t,” Heizou responded, breaking apart his chopsticks. “They call it strawberry —also, welcome back. You were lost in your thoughts. I was debating whether to snap you out of it or not, but you seemed to do fine on your own. What was it?”

“Memories,” Emmeline murmured before she took a sip of the strawberry milkshake. It was a strange word. From where did it originate? Sumeru? Snezhnaya? Heck, even Natlan?

She picked up a stick of yakitori, biting from the side and pulling the meat through the stick before chewing. The taste was to be expected—similar to most yakitori she’s had. Well, the last time was before the Cataclysm. A taste like this shouldn’t exist anymore since that was the case. That was a hard thing to say in a place where eternity was the prevailing ideal.

If Heizou had any questions about what she meant by memories, he didn’t seem interested. “Let’s start.” He placed his chopsticks beside his bowl.

Emmeline raised an eyebrow. “You’re not drinking?”

“Do you like to drink?”

“No, no.” She waved her hands in front of her. “I was just wondering.” He might be the first in a few Anemo Vision wielders to not drink. Excluding many people, of course, but still. First in the carefree wielders of Anemo. The ones who didn’t drink always seemed to have a responsibility they couldn’t abandon. The same could be said for Heizou, but he still exhibited more freedom than those other wielders.

“I don’t usually drink.” Heizou pointed to his head. “It clouds judgment. I can’t allow myself to perform less than I usually do.”

“That makes sense.” If only Venti thought the same. Well, she figured she could leave him be. He’d been alive since the Archon War. He needed to indulge every once in a while. Then again, he slept for a really long time . Now she wasn’t sure what to think.

He only appeared when Mondstadt was in danger. Emmeline knew he cared a lot for his nation, but he’d been so painfully absent, that people began to think the Anemo Archon just didn’t care at all. They would never know just how much he cared. That was why he slept for so long! So he could combat erosion and keep being with his people for longer.

She admired that. She admired the immense love these Archons had for their people and the land they were watching over.

“So,”—Heizou clapped once—“tell me what you need my help with.” 

Emmeline took a deep breath after taking a soul-sucking sip of her strawberry milkshake. “I discovered a sleeping creature while I was helping out a Knight of Favonius in Mondstadt.” She tried to make it as compressed as possible, but maybe it was too vague to understand. 

Heizou hummed, looking like he had just discovered something. “So it’s that kind of request.” He should now realize why Emmeline did not ask for Detective Shikanoin but rather just him. “You want to keep this under wraps?”

“That’s correct.”

“Let me think about it. What you’re asking of me is not simple.” Heizou closed his eyes, only opening them enough to get a glimpse of Emmeline’s face who appeared as if his words weren’t a sign of urgency. He sighed, smiling. “I’m joking. I’ll assist you; we do need to go somewhere to start officially.”

“Do you know where we should start?” she asked. There was no way he already knew what to do. Her request was a bit complicated, if not extremely complicated. There wasn’t anything she could do except trust in his ability, however, even if she couldn’t trust him as a person.

“Why would I tell you?” He asked haughtily. “I have my secrets.”

The now-partners found themselves in a secluded part of the city. Only a couple of kilometers from Chinju Forest. Emmeline didn’t possess the mind of a detective, so she couldn’t keep up with Heizou even if all he did was sit down on a rock and wait.

Heizou glanced at her. “I was already going to meet someone here tonight, but it wouldn’t hurt to use their services for something else. Something related to that problem of yours.” He pointed at Emmeline.

Emmeline smiled softly. “Are you sure you didn’t expect me?” It would surely be simpler if that were the truth. Simpler for her. Because if it wasn’t true, then Heizou just changed his plans for the night because of her request, and she didn’t have any Mora to give him in return for his services.

“Well, if I did, I would have avoided you at all costs,” he joked. Heizou had actually noticed her once or twice that day alone, running all over Inazuma with the Shirasagi Himegimi , and then returning to Tenryou at night all alone. There wasn’t any specific reason as to why he decided to single her out. He just felt like she would be involved with him, and it was a correct feeling.

Emmeline was silent for a brief moment. “I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

“I know.” Heizou then fully turned to face her, eyes never lacking the intellect she had observed him with. “You don’t even have any records anywhere. How would you have anything to offer me?” If he had received this request in a normal circumstance, he wouldn’t think twice about declining, even with an exorbitant amount of Mora offered to him. Why? It would be because of him. Why they’d chose him despite the problem having stemmed from another nation. Their reason would be illogical and personal. Sure, the case was interesting, but they’d chosen him over all the knowledgeable individuals around Teyvat who knew plenty about mythical beings and creatures from centuries past.

Heizou was a detective who looked for cases to itch his thirst for a challenge. Cases that had a lot of holes and a lot of secrets to unearth. This case was interesting not because of the creature’s origins but because of the one who had approached him. It was interesting because of Emmeline. His intuition told him she wasn’t someone he could treat as any other human. It told him that helping her would show him many interesting things, so he did. Without a second thought.

“Then tell me why.” Emmeline blamed it on the moonlit sky. On the corpse of the Moon Sisters from eons ago. She blamed her doubt on all of that. She doubted his reason as to why he was helping her. Even when she knew herself just why.

“My interest in your case is enough, isn’t it?”

She sighed. “I expected as much.”

“Then why ask me in the first place?”

“I didn’t peg you as a person to do so much for a person you barely know, much less distrust.”

“Why would I distrust you? You’re easily one of the more trustworthy people I’ve met, and I know plenty of questionable people. Like Kujou Sara, to name one.” Heizou tilted his head, then shrugged. He seemed very nonchalant while reassuring Emmeline. She was right. He did know how to use his charisma.

Red bloomed on Emmeline’s cheeks. He didn’t distrust her. She did. She distrusted him, but not his work. Because she knew his work bore results. The same reason why Kujou Sara tolerated him to this day. “The general of the Shogun’s army?”

“She dislikes me.”

“That’s not reason enough for you to say that she’s questionable when your intuition should have told you enough about her.”

Heizou smirked, leaning closer to Emmeline. “You have me all figured out, don’t you? You wouldn’t be a bad detective. Not at all.” He then sighed. “But you’re right. That’s not enough. Many people dislike me already, so what’s one more person?”

Emmeline could think of many reasons why. But none of them matched Heizou’s character. Doubting a superior was normal in many cases, but Kujou Sara was the general of the Tenryou Commission. She was reputable enough to warrant respect and trust from her subordinates. His reason couldn’t be because of something that happened at the commission. But for it to be completely different from her thoughts, it must be something she didn’t know. That meant she wouldn’t be able to figure it out at all. It wouldn’t be that simple. She had to have access to Heizou’s memories to know that, and she didn’t want to do that. “Did you lose your Vision in the Vision Hunt Decree?”

Could it be because she was fully functioning under the Shogun’s orders, and nothing more?

“Everyone did, at one point.” Heizou sighed. “I didn’t. It’s why I’m sane today.”

Emmeline laughed mirthlessly. “Such is the unfairness of authority,” she lamented.

Heizou shrugged, ignoring Emmeline’s words. “Well, we can talk later. He’s here.” He must have been referring to the person he was going to meet whether or not he had encountered Emmeline.

“Alright, Detective.”

“Call me Heizou.”

“I’d call you Doushin if you wanted.”

Heizou narrowed his eyes. “You’re a hard nut to crack.” Emmeline chuckled in response.

A figure stalked closer to them. In the dim moonlight, it would look as if he were there to fulfill some unspeakable duty, but looking carefully, Emmeline saw a glimpse of green hair. She crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for him to reach them before drawing her conclusion. He looked like an informant, but Heizou mentioned services , so information couldn’t have been his only use.

Emmeline didn’t understand how an individual who appeared to have no Vision could help them with her problem. They were only able to partially contain the threat because of Visions, after all. Then again, she had no Vision either, so she’d take what she could get.

“Heizou,” a deep voice remarked, “it seems as if you have invited a guest with you.”

Heizou laughed. “Quit sounding ominous Tsuneo.” He then turned to Emmeline and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her closer to him. “Meet Emmeline. Plans have changed, I would like to use your services to help her.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Tsuneo asked, suppressing a chuckle. He looked like he expected this. Not Emmeline, but the change in plans. He seemed used to it. Maybe that was why Heizou quickly adapted to her request because he always changed his plans.

“This is Maeda Tsuneo.” 

Emmeline bowed as a greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maeda.” When she raised her head, her eyes met his. His eyes were a silvery gray, a color that neutralized the green of his hair.

“What do you need help with?” Tsuneo asked, voice silky and full of confidence.

“Do you have charismatic friends, Detective?” Emmeline asked, turning to the man who still had her wrist in his grasp. Heizou chuckled in response. “I have discovered a creature in Dragonspine, Mondstadt. I need help in containing it.”

“I see.” Tsuneo nodded, thoughtful. “It won’t be easy.”

“I didn’t expect it to be easy.”

“Dragonspine is a snowy area, often described as dangerous,” Heizou remarked. “To contain a possibly ancient creature is no easy task. Physical means wouldn’t be enough. We need elements—Visions.”

“The Ley Lines connect Teyvat, so we should be able to use that to our advantage. Its memories should be able to help us subdue the creature, while the elemental energy we would release through it and the help of Vision wielders would make sure it remains in slumber. After that, we should be able to pass through the affected area without much trouble.” Tsuneo chuckled. “Just make sure not to aggravate it again. I’m guessing that was what you did.”

“It was an experiment.” Emmeline sighed. It was easy to say all those words but to put them into practice . . . was no easy feat. Ley Lines connect the world but one couldn’t just dig up some soil and expect it to have any branches of Ley Lines. They’d need technology from Fontaine to concentrate elemental energy and what little of it they could find in the area.

Emmeline was useless even though it was her who caused all this. She couldn’t channel elemental energy so she couldn’t fuel the machine they would use. Additionally, she didn’t have any Mora that could pay for the usage of said machine. But who would she ask for assistance? The Fatui? She could. She definitely could. The Fatui posed no threat to her, and they weren’t interested in her either. She had already met with the Tsaritsa and the Archon made it clear that Emmeline was a neutral entity to her.

“An experiment.” Tsuneo hummed. He didn’t seem to believe it. But who would?

Emmeline sighed. “I was helping a researcher with an experiment; I didn’t expect it to happen, even though I should have because it was Dragonspine.”

“Well, what happened already happened.” Heizou shrugged. “No use beating yourself up about it.”

“I guess this is where you would need my help.”

“ A machine from Fontaine . You think you can do it?” Heizou grinned.

“I can find someone who has it, but the money is not my problem.”

Emmeline sighed. “I’ll take care of it.” She had no choice. Her connections were extremely scarce. Everyone who knew her were either Vision wielders or immortals. It just so happened that the Tsaritsa was one of the immortals who got to keep her memory.

“Where are you going to get it?” Heizou leaned forward, interested.

“If push comes to shove,” she said, “the Fatui.”

Heizou’s face twisted with those words. He rolled his eyes. “That’s idiotic, you know that.” His reaction was understandable, really. He was probably knowledgeable of their attempt at taking control of Inazuma. Heizou was a citizen of Inazuma. Thinking of them would leave a bad taste in his mouth.

“It’s my only choice.” Heizou raised an inquisitive brow. “Time is something I don’t have.”

Heizou nodded, closing his eyes to give off the illusion that he was thinking. “They would want something from you.” At this point, Tsuneo had actively refused to take part in the conversation. He had no interest in the Fatui, and he would only do what he was tasked to do. Acquiring an Elemental Concentration Machine from Fontaine.

“They can’t take anything from me.” Emmeline fixed him with a stern gaze. “I’m going to talk to the one person who doesn’t want anything from me.” It was why she didn’t have any time. Because he would only be in Liyue next month. There were two weeks until the next month came by them. It was more than enough time to take care of her business in Inazuma.

“What about Vision wielders?”

Emmeline smiled. “Even one would be enough.” Even Venti would be enough .

***

The next few days were spent on research on the creature. Emmeline couldn’t get a glimpse of whatever that thing was, so all she could rely on were the energy fluctuations she felt from it. It was familiar, which meant she could identify where it came from. Heizou couldn’t give any answers if she asked him, so she withheld that information.

And if it wasn’t obvious enough, the creature was from the destroyed kingdom of Khaenri’ah. One of Gold’s creations. She had thought all that she left in Dragonspine were Durin and Subject Two. That was why Albedo’s eyes lit up when the ice collapsed. He knew it was of the same creator as him. Then, what did he plan to do with it?

If he knew it was Gold’s creation, would he be able to do something to neutralize it?

Heizou had let Emmeline stay where he resided for the duration of their research. Neither of them knew when Emmeline slept last—Heizou, especially. Emmeline worked on the coffee table while Heizou took up the space on his desk. Multiple times he had tried to switch places with Emmeline who looked like she had back pain because she was always hunched over, staring at her notes. He’d failed each time.

Emmeline was too focused to notice her back screaming at her to stretch and her eyes eagerly awaiting rest. If she were to stare into a mirror now, she’d see a disheveled ghost. Thankfully for Heizou, she accepted the food he would leave beside her.

Then there came the questions about the method. They were going to use an Elemental Concentration Machine, but how are they going to focus it? Which setting should they use? Emmeline had gotten herself acquainted with the manual Tsuneo had dropped off on the second day, and she found out that there were different settings of usage, so they couldn’t afford to channel elemental energy into the machine and hope for the best.

Too busy thinking about Gold’s methods and her lack of information regarding what Albedo knew, she didn’t notice Heizou falling into the space beside her on his couch. His lips housed a grin, which wasn’t a good sign. It never was. But Emmeline didn’t know that. Her eyes were stuck on the same word on a singular piece of paper. Her brain was shutting down on her and only Heizou noticed.

“At this point, when you leave, there will be a permanent indent on my couch,” Heizou remarked cheekily, voice scarily close to her ear. She could feel his lips moving against strands of her hair, and she flinched. Emmeline moved away instinctively, and she turned her head, eyes holding Heizou’s gaze and cheeks flushing.

“I—” Heizou handed her a glass of water, the same grin still on his face. Emmeline’s voice was weak, which was probably from prolonged disuse. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to walk around.”

“As you should!” Heizou chastised. He was pouting, eyes closed with his right fist raised. 

“I haven’t been talking for a while, huh?” Emmeline took this chance to properly look around Heizou’s home. He lived in a studio flat, so most of what he needed was in one place. Of course, the bathroom had walls around it which separated it from the living space. During these few days, Emmeline had gotten herself acquainted with said bathroom. It just so happened that she forgot to refill the glass of water on the coffee table which was why her throat was dry.

“It’s been quiet,” he affirmed. “You should rest.” He nodded over in the direction of his bed. Between the two of them, he’d been the one to observe her. He saw her focus, and he saw how she hadn’t slept ever since she stepped foot in his home.

“I still have so much to do.” Emmeline pressed her palm to her forehead, groaning. “I have theories to make, things to think about.” Her head throbbed with pain. She’d been thinking too much, and she knew that. She also knew she could ignore it.

“That’s my job.” Heizou took the hand on her forehead and pressed his palm with hers. “I’m the detective here, not you. Didn’t you ask for my assistance?” He grinned, tilting his head.

“You’re right.” Emmeline nodded, a little dazed.

“Then go rest—”

“But I can’t just leave my work here.”

Heizou sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pick it up. I’m good at this. Remember? Number One detective?” He pointed at himself. The words that followed next were for Emmeline and her stubborn nature. “Rest so you can blaze through these with me. Who knows? Maybe I’ll solve the problem you’ve had in your head since yesterday.”

Emmeline’s eyes widened. She’d started worrying about Albedo last night, which was why she’d been staring at the same paper for hours. As if the same words over and over again would provide her with an answer. Heizou didn’t know about Albedo though. It was a variable he was missing. Albedo and Khaenri’ah. Her writings would tell him about Albedo, but she didn’t write anything about Khaenri’ah, believing her memories were more than enough reference. Albedo’s files were also lacking. There was nothing about Gold in her writings. At least, she didn’t think so. “You noticed?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Heizou chuckled. “Do you still doubt me?”

“Yes.” She doubted Heizou would be able to understand and piece together what it was Emmeline had written on those pieces of paper. And those said pieces of paper were pieces of paper she would have to burn after this conundrum reached a satisfying conclusion. An end that would erase the significant problem she had created.

“You shouldn’t.” He pressed a chaste kiss on Emmeline’s cheek, pointing her to his bed.

Emmeline froze. It was an obvious reaction to what he had just done. Heizou grinned in response. He had deliberately done that. So she couldn’t protest. And it worked. In her shock, Emmeline had let Heizou pull her along to his bed.

“Go to sleep,” he said, sitting on the edge of his bed. It was his bed, and yet she was the one laying on it.

Emmeline’s response was to narrow her eyes at him. She still couldn’t process what he did. He kissed her on the cheek. It was surprising, no matter how Emmeline put it. In so many years—millennia—of existing, it was the first time someone had done that to her.

It was strange. Heizou’s lips were soft in the brief moment she felt them make contact with her skin. After that, she didn’t quite know what to do. She froze. It didn’t mean she didn’t welcome it. It made her feel warm, even when she didn’t understand what it meant for her. Emotion? Embarrassment? It made her feel confused.

Heizou chuckled. “Go to sleep,” he repeated.

Heizou walked over to the coffee table, eyes skimming over Emmeline’s notes and theories. It was about time something interesting was going to happen. Starting with an entire piece of paper that Emmeline forgot to throw away. Heizou knew he would find only generic things in the mess of papers on the coffee table, so he chose to look on the floor.

“Gold. Now, who is this interesting figure?” He stuffed the note into the trash can and walked away, leaving his home. He guessed he could keep this secret for the both of them, seeing that it looked like a sensitive subject to Emmeline, if her handwriting didn’t say anything about it. The difference was that the letters on that piece of paper were written with more force, as shown with the bleeding ink on the other side.

series: stories of a time long past

word count: 6.1k

author: ostellaria

[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