#less soapy ofc but like. still bad

[touch-starved-lurker]

this supposedly “”blue raspberry“” gummy tastes kinda like dish soap

[joshusten]

love the sinner (albus york/faith koria, bastard warrior || good boy audios)

Albus York takes a bath and Faithful washes his hair. (angst, slight argument, hurt/comfort)

2.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist] [CW/notes: religious imagery ofc (this fic was basically an excuse to write that), typical albus york language, lots of self-loathing and some suicidal thoughts. albus is just having a bad time but hes also so whipped for faithful. speaking of her, i didnt make faith's physical descriptions vague or made it so that she's a "listener" but rather a character of her own! and i based it off of gba's description of her + my own interpretation hehe.]

once again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to @slushiepizza for all the AMAZING suggestions and support like omfg i SWEAR i keep on saying this but this fic rlly wouldnt be finished without them!! i appreciate it sm!! and im shaking and kissing my irls that ive also bothered with this fic that will probably not see this THANK U SM!! edit: I FORGOT THE FUCKING READ MORE LMFAO

—

Albus York steadily sank into the half-filled tub of one of the ship’s quarters—stripped of his clothes, and left bare to no witness.

Gentle waves of the bathwater rippled against hardened, battle-torn skin. He dementedly mused that if he could go down further, he might finally drown. 

He chuckled at the thought, shifted his position, and got to work. It's been a while since he last had an actual bath—way before he even agreed to this suicide mission of an adventure—with warm soapy water and scented products.

The constant near-death experiences and whatnot had interrupted the trio to get any time for themselves, much less to do any sort of basic hygiene. Since the route Devlin had charted for the ship to follow allowed for ample downtime, the Forgemaster had practically shoved his younger half-brother into the common bathroom and forced him to take a much-needed bath (Of course, not without a snobby comment about how his stench matched his personality perfectly well.)

Albus’ inexperience was made clearer with the stiff, awkward motion of his large, calloused hands as he attempted to wash himself. The unpracticed movement made the unfamiliarity of it all fully realized. How long has it been since he felt this safe? Does he even remember how to take care of himself?

Does someone like him even deserve this luxury?

The warrior submerged himself lower, down until his eyes were right above water level. He was thinking again. It was all that he had been doing for the past hour. If the gods wouldn't allow him to drown, then he hoped that the water would at least cleanse the grime and sin embedded into his flesh.

But he knew that filth clung to his skin like how a believer clings to the idea of repentance. No matter how hard—how desperately—he scrubbed (until pale skin turned into blood red, until rough turned rougher), it was all pointless. He had learned long ago that a bastard's prayers were never left answered. 

The mark on his chest was a bleak reminder of that reality. Damnation was basically his birthright. Albus York was dead the moment he came out of his mother’s womb—dead to his family, dead to society. 

Cursed to hell for being sin itself.

Life had a funny way to remind him—that goodness is something he can be in the presence of but never be a part of it.

"Albus?"

Speak of the devil, his ever-so-naive angel had arrived.

“Albus? Hello?”

Tender, serene, heavenly.

The voice was melodic—like the somber hymns he used to hear in his youth when his mother would take him into the temple and meet with her fellow brothers and sisters. At that time, he always felt drawn to the choir’s performance, despite not being old enough to understand the words (not that he was any more literate in the present). Back then, he was just a kid, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy he had committed for existing. 

He had grown since then—in every aspect of the word.

"Albus! Are you still in there?"

A deep grunt, muffled slosh of water, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the tiled surface were all that Faith Koria had heard from the other side of the metal door before a familiar, gruff voice answered back.

"Calm ya tits, woman. I knew you were eager to see my dick but I never knew you were this eager!" 

The outside replied with an annoyed groan, a sound Albus was all too familiar with, especially when it came from her. That being said, he couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips as he hastily dried himself up with a nearby towel.

"You've been using the bathroom for more than an hour, just what are you doing in there? Some people want to get cleaned up too, you know!”

The metal door swiftly slid open with a sudden 'woosh!', hot steam dissipating before the runaway nun to reveal Albus’ tall stature, half-naked and slightly dripping wet. Faith frantically averted her eyes on instinct, ears immediately burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t like it was her first time seeing him undressed—for gods’ sake, she treated his wounds like this when they first met! But to have him fresh out of a bath with his toned body exposed and his dampened long hair was—Wait! His hair!

"Alright, alright! I’m out, ya happy? I’m decent too so you don’t have to be a prude about it,” The bastard huffed, a little irritated with how his peaceful bath (or at least, as peaceful as it could be) was abruptly cut short.  

“Albus, your hair!”

The man scrunched up his face in confusion.  He gathered one of his dark locks and examined it with an intense focus. “Huh? Looks fine to me. What, you're not expecting me to be all prim and proper now, are you?”

“No, no, no! It's all matted and uneven!” The woman replied with a horrified concern in her voice that was rare for the warrior to hear directed at him.“It’s probably from all those monster attacks. Some of them must’ve managed to get to your hair! How long has it been like this? Does it hurt? Do you even have shampoo?”

“Uh…what’s that?”

“Ugh, never mind. Just—” Before Albus could process what was happening, Faith grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for a nun. She dragged him down near the bathtub he just got out of. He can even hear the water still slowly swirling down the drain. 

“Faithful, what are you—” 

“Stay right here. You got that, York? I’m just going to get something and I don't want you to move a muscle.”

A deep chuckle resonated within the man’s scarred chest—he always enjoyed it when she got this bossy. He gave her a mock salute and answered with a hearty “Yes, ma’am!”

The sister paladin made a face, letting out a flustered huff before hurrying to wherever she needed to be. So cute.

Albus had put on his clothes at this point while he waited (lest he risked Faithful suffering from a heart attack). A few minutes had passed by when she returned with a rather large pouch that Albus recognized was packed with the rest of her belongings. He deduced it must've been from her childhood with how worn down the embroidery was. Once vibrant floral patterns dulled from years of usage.

“Lean back by the bathtub,” Faith instructed. “I’m going to start detangling your hair. I might cut off some of the more unsalvageable parts too. If anything hurts or if I snagged on it too hard just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” The man repeated simply, not really knowing how to react to all of the amount of consideration he was receiving. Abrasiveness was what he was more used to responding to, not the care that she unabashedly gave him.

She beamed brightly at his compliance (and no, his heart did not just skip a beat), soft hands found their way to his head and started brushing away the more manageable tangles before using a wide-tooth comb for the bigger ones. Despite the numerous warnings, her fingers were nowhere near to being rough. She was as gentle as a lamb—her slow brushstrokes eventually formed a rhythm that filled in the silence of the room. Albus decided to break the comfortable atmosphere.

“How are you so good with this shit?” He mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. Fuck, he felt like he could sleep until his next life. “Never knew sisters of Cindergorn get to be part-time hairdressers too.”

Even with his sluggish state, Albus could almost sense the nun’s eyes rolling above him, brushing out his hair with a slightly more forceful than usual tug.

“I'm the one usually taking care of the children at the temple. I’m used to seeing this kind of stuff whenever they play too hard. Obviously not on this level but you get the gist.” Faith snipped off the last of a particularly challenging knot. 

“I've also been doing my own hair ever since I was a kid, so really, it's like second nature to me at this point,” she followed up, running her fingers through his hair with a satisfied nod.

Now that Albus thought about it, he had seen Faithful braiding herself earlier on their journey when they had just…tastefully borrowed the flagship meant for his father. He remembered swift, practiced hands twisting sections after sections of dark, coiled hair and had mentioned in passing how it was a hairstyle she often did to withstand the Eastern Faithlands' harsher seasons (Fortunately, it also turned out to be great for going-on-a-quest-to-kill-your-priest-brother-and-save-a-child seasons too.)

Faith’s hands suddenly paused. Before the man could ask if something was wrong, she signaled him to stay still while she rummaged through the pouch to get a small bottle. She squeezed a moderate amount of product into her palm and spread it evenly. As she was about to apply the substance to his head, Albus jerked away, quickly stopping her hand with his own as a furrow formed on his thick brows.

“Faithful,” He chuckled. “Please, I’m a warrior. You don’t need to waste your fancy shit on me. My hair’s going to get fucked up again eventually so what’s the point?” 

Faith struggled to wriggle herself out of his grasp. “Wha–Albus, it’s fine!” 

“No, Faithful, I’m serious. It’s just hair. Hell, it’s my hair. Relax.” The man sat up straighter at this point, the water from his long, damp hair trickling down along the scarred tissue of his back but it was the intensity in those familiar brown eyes that made him feel a chill.

“And I told you it’s fine just let me—”

“Why are you making it a big fuckin’ deal? What do you want from me?” 

“What?” Faith’s voice cracked, appalled and confused. “Albus, what are you even talking about? I’m not asking for anything—”

“I’m just a bastard you hired to kill your brother! I was paid to do the dirty work for you, not to be your fucking toy—”

“Albus, wha—Y–You’re not a toy! Why do you—”

“If I’m not then why are you being like this to me? There’s a catch—there’s always a fucking catch. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

The nun managed to finally yank her hand away from his harsh grip and angrily slammed at the smooth surface of the tub.

“I just want you to stop being stubborn for once and let me do this for you!” 

The silence that followed between them felt suffocating.

Faith’s breath hitched, shocked by her outburst. She immediately straightened up her posture only to look down shamefully at the tiled floor. A shaky sigh left her lips, and Albus was doing everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out to her, seeking salvation he knew she shouldn’t give him because he was not sorry that he was like this. He wasn’t afraid to show his filth to the world because it was all he knew to do—all he was taught to do. There’s no excuse, no justification, no escape. She’s everything good and he’s just scum or worse yet—he’s a bastard. 

Because she’s an angel and he’s far worse than the devil.

“This isn't anything all that fancy…just something to keep it healthy and less stressful on your scalp. I just want you to feel okay. So please…” She trailed off. “Let me.”

“It’s…It’s just hair, Faithful. I’ll be okay, I’m a big boy,” Albus joked, but his words were sincere. He almost found the whole thing amusing—having the ever-so-snappy sister paladin fuss over him—if he didn’t get a feel for how much…his comfort seemed to mean a lot to her.

Faith pursed her lips, her gaze still fixed downward. “I just think…you deserve at least one good hair day.”

It's that word again. Deserve. Does she really think that? That he's worthy of all of this?

The man cleared his throat with a curt nod. Hesitantly, the nun's fingers slowly found their way back to the crown of his head, resuming whatever she was supposed to do. Steady, rhythmic brushstrokes filled the quiet once again. 

After what felt like hours of stillness, the bastard dared himself to shift his head and face her timidly—as if he was afraid he could melt under her piercing gaze.

"Thank you, for…for this," Albus grunted. He hadn't only meant for his hair.

Faith graced him with a dimpled smile—the one that made her eyes squint and showed the tiniest bit of the gap between her front teeth. She proceeded to tuck away a stray lock behind his ear, trailing down to hover over his cheek. Albus can practically feel the nervous tremble on her fingers as if she were hesitating on something. It all came to nothing in the end, closing her hands in a fist before withdrawing to her pouch to start cleaning up.

“Anytime, Albus. Besides, with how you always manage to find yourself in trouble,” the sister murmured, her voice playful (it never failed to leave Albus’ mind racing). Her eyes glinted as they locked into his almost like clockwork. “How can I not?”

Albus York sat by the empty bathtub of the ship’s quarters—fully clothed yet he had felt the most bare that he had ever been in front of someone. 

Faith smiled at him again and he swore he could make out the faintest halo crowning her head under the fluorescent bathroom light. ---- a/n: this is probably my most favorite fic that i wrote and i hope you enjoyed! lemme tell u this fic took way to long and got me so stressed for no reason idk ! i was worrying abt how this would happen in the timeline and all the lil details and then !! its a fic!! and im suppose to be having fun!! i am being self-indulgent!! (although i hope was able to characterize them well) again, feedback and comments r highly appreciated!! :DD have a good day/night and thank you for reading!!

[villainousshakespeare]

A Forest Interlude Chapter 24 - The Missing Bride

Summary: Eleonore (OFC) discovers a wounded man in the woods near her home and seeks to heal him. Little does she know that it is none other than the heir to the throne, Prince Hal of England.

Chapter: 24 of 28

Rated E

Warnings: smut, sex fluff, angst, oral sex, fingering, hand jobs

(spoiler - don’t worry, it will all work out okay in the end)

In this chapter:   Hal confronts his past behavior with Poins, and discovers the abduction of his darling wife.

Read the entire story on AO3

@nrthmnsplbnd09 ;  @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty@just-the-hiddles @from-hel-i-with-love  livviedoo@hopelessromanticspoonie @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen@dangertoozmanykids101 @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @vodka-and-some-sass @shiningloki@hiddlesholic @isitmadnessrpg​

If he clenched his jaw any harder Hal was convinced all of his teeth would break. This was not at all how he had anticipated the afternoon proceeding. The warm bath that he had so looked forward to sharing with his eager wife was bordering on cold, and instead of her soft moans his ears were being assaulted with a steady string of mindless prattle from Ned Poins.

Ned, who was by some reckoning his closest companion. Who definitely was the his most frequent co-conspirator and partner in crime. How that had come to be the case, Hal was having a difficult time remembering now, for he found the steady stream of malicious gossip and cruel innuendo falling from the other man's lips grating to him. A month or two ago Hal would have been laughing at his latest conquest of some poor, unsuspecting baker's wife. Ned had managed to convince the woman that he wanted to run away with her in order to bed her, only to deny any such plans when her husband caught them, mid tryst. Now, Hal merely felt sorry for the poor woman. Her life had been ruined simply because she had a nice pair of breasts that had managed to catch the wandering eye of a bored noble.

A blessed silence stretched as Hal quickly washed himself, regretting it was not Nell's hands wandering over his body, all soapy and searching. He gave a soft sigh at the thought, his cock half heartedly twitching, and was met with a snort of derision. Looking up, he saw Ned was staring at him with shuttered, cynical eyes.

"I'll give you this, your wife's a pretty piece," Poins said, a twist of his lips substituting for a smile, "though not, for me, enough to risk a ring. Was wedding her in truth the only way that she would open up her legs to you? If so, I hope the prize was worth the price, for to my mind she's a controlling wench."

"I'll tell you once the same I told the king," Hal said, rising from the tub, naked and dripping, and crossing to tower over his friend in anger, "I will not hear a word against her Ned. Nell is my wife, and I do love her well. You would be wise to bear that thought in mind, or this my first will see to it you learn."

"A thousand pardons Hal, I meant no harm!" Ned replied quickly, raising both hands in defense and stepping back. "I see you are much taken with her now. Though I profess to hear you speak of love, and have the words be so sincerely meant, doth hardly reconcile with my old friend."

"I do suppose you have some cause in that," Hal was forced to admit, as he snatched up a bath sheet and began toweling himself dry. "When I think now of what my life hath been, and how I so mistreated the fair sex, I do begin to almost hate myself."

"Mistreat them? Hal, I hardly would say that!" Ned laughed. "For I was near at hand as oft as not, and from the sounds you brought forth out of them, those ladies that you tumbled for a night had nothing to complain of in your bed!"

Hal cursed himself for thinking that Ned would understand what he was saying. He did not mean that he had hurt the women, heaven forbid! Nor even that he had not done his best to make sure that they came away from the encounter thoroughly satisfied. It was just that he had never given a one of them any thought once the random coupling had ended. He had never wondered if they pined for him, or if he was getting in the way of a relationship that might bring them more joy in the long term. Short of doing his best to ensure that their were no royal bastards to follow him about, he had taken his pleasure without any further worry.

"I hope that you are right, but who can say?" was all he answered now, knowing it was useless to share his thoughts with the other.

"Well, I am going now to Jocelyn's," Ned said, laying back on Hal's bed with a groan. "Her babe at last is weaned, so now's my chance. Perhaps I'll ask her for you, if you like, if she did feel disgraced by your hand."

Apparently Ned thought this a capital joke from the way he laughed. Hal managed a grimace that passed for a smile and began dressing absentmindedly. Jocelyn was a lusty woman, and ran a thriving brothel. She was not the type that Hal had been worrying over hurting. All the same, he wished Ned would show her some respect.

"No doubt you will have other things to say," Hal suggested with a raised eyebrow, "and will not need to fall back on my name."

"Oh I do not plan to say much at all! My mouth shall be much happier employed. But come, shall you go with me good sweet prince? I hear she has a new girl in her house, a redhead with an ardency to match. I'm sure the girl would count it quite a coup if she could snare a prince into her bed."

"I have no need for whores, I thank you Ned. I am, if you recall, a man now wed."

"Well yes, I know that you did take a wife," Ned looked at him in almost comical alarm, "but surely that need not affect you much. Nell need not know whereto we two are bound, tis not like she will hear it from your whore! And I should think she may think it relief that she must not see to your needs today."

"You do not mark me, so I'll say it plain. There will from now be no more whores for me. I fear you must seek for another man to bear you company in your pursuits."

"But Hal, you must be playing at some jest - you surely do not mean you plan to be a faithful husband to your loving wife?"

"Yet that is just exactly what I mean," he nodded. "Now that the gods have granted me my heart, I would not put such happiness at risk by wasting of my time with random whores or ladies who would cast themselves at me. I want but one fair damsel in my bed, and much to my eternal wonderment, that woman is none other than my wife."

Ned stared at him in stunned disbelief. Hal knew that he deserved no less, and once more felt his shame rise. He could not truly fault Poins. Even discounting Hal's reputation as a rake, very few men of his rank were completely faithful to their wives. He supposed it came with the territory when most marriages were arranged more for money and alliances than for affection. He was a man most blessed that his life's companion was the owner of his very soul.

"My lord, my lord! I must see you at once!" Cecil demanded, barging into the room in a most undignified fashion quite at odds with his usual reserved bearing.

"What is it man? Here, sit and catch you breath," he instructed as his man doubled over and wheezed.

"There is no time, her Highness, Princess Nell..." Cecil gasped out, causing Hal's heart to stop beating.

"What Nell? Why what is wrong? Sir, speak to me!" he demanded, fear like a cold finger on his spine. "Is it the babe? Has she come to some harm?"

"No, no my prince, tis not as bad as that," Cecil hastened to assure him. "A troop of guard appeared here at our gate, and did insist that she should go with them!"

"What, take her from her home? I'll kill them all! Where were our own men that they stopped them not?"

"Your grace, she went with them of her own will, for they were dressed in colors of the king, and his own sigil did bedeck their breasts! Only the gateman knew what did occur until she had acceded to their will. Poor lad, he is beside himself in fear that he did put her life somehow at risk."

Hal began littering the air with every curse he knew. There had been no direct word from his father since their frightful encounter on his wedding day, and the lack of condemnation had lulled him into a false sense of security. It had never occurred to him that Henry would do something so extreme as to send armed guards to abduct Nell from their home! What could he possibly hope to gain by doing any such thing?

"Have Strumpet saddled for me straight away," he commanded Cecil, pulling his boots on as he spoke. "I ride at once to see our revered king. I hope he has some reason for this act, as patricide is still a grievous sin. But if he has caused any harm to her, I will not answer for my own reply."

"Your horse is waiting for you in the yard. It was not hard to think what you would do."

"I thank you, Cecil. Ned, I bid you well. You must excuse me, for I now depart."

"I would not think to keep you from your bride," Ned said with an odd voice Hal could not quite place, but thought might contain humor. He supposed seeing him cast as the avenging husband might seem humorous to someone else. To himself it was deadly serious.

Cecil was as good as his word, and Hal's favorite horse was saddled and waiting for him. It took him very little time to ride to the palace. Even were he not known on sight through most of London, one look at his furious face was enough to clear all out of his path. When he arrived at the castle, he threw his reins to a random groom and stormed inside, beating a path for the presence chamber. Not waiting to be announced, he thrust open the doors and barged inside.

"Where is she sir, for I will have her back!" he hurled the words at the old man sitting on the throne like a spear.

Henry, who until that moment had been in deep conversation with his master of coin, started in his seat as though a dragon had burst into his throne room, and indeed Hal looked like one. When he realized the accosting person was in fact his eldest son, his face turned red and his eyes lit with rage. Still, his voice was clam and cutting as he addressed Hal.

"You should be whipped for lack of manners, boy. Do you not know to whom it is you speak? How dare you come before us in such state, and so abuse our royal presence thus?"

"Forgive me if I do not curtsey, sir," Hal sneered, as the gathered court looked on in shock. "Perhaps if you had not kidnapped my wife I might have time for courtliness and grace."

"Has all the sac you drink gone to your brain?" his father demanded, glaring at him. "Why, tell me boy, would I abduct your wife?"

"Why that you must tell me, for I know not!"

"And do you see her here, you foolish sot? I have not set my eyes upon the girl since I did see you both the day you wed."

"Is this the truth? You did not send for her?"

"I have no need to lie to you, you wretch! In truth I have done all that I could do to put the two of you far from my mind!"

"Then this is even worse than I did fear!"

Hal was completely lost now. When he thought that his father had taken Nell, he had feared for their future, but never for her physical safety. Say what you would about Henry, and Hal had, but he was not a threat to women. The worst he had imagined was that his father intended to ship her off to a convent and dissolve their union. If it was someone else... the possibilities were as dark as they were endless.

"What put it in your head that I had her?" Henry's voice sounded begrudgingly concerned.

"The gateman said that guards did come for her, dressed in the livery of your own house."

"Flat lies, and that you can see for yourself! Why, you have known Renaldo all your life and here he stands as he has done all day. If I had sent my men on such a task as would require discretion in to be done, as to abduct my son's wife from their home, think you I would entrust it not to him?"

Hal had to admit his father had a point. Renaldo had been with them since Hal was a boy, as faithful to Henry as he was circumspect. His father was far too fussy to allow such an act as Hal was accusing him of to be done in a way to cause talk among the public. If he had sent for Nell, it would have been Renaldo that retrieved her.

Hal's mind spun. It made no sense. Who would want to take Nell? Could it be Northumberland, angry at the cancelled wedding? Or perhaps the Earl of Kent who he had provoked at the market? He could not think clearly, not when the dearest person on the globe was in such peril.

"But said your man that they were dressed as us?" Renaldo asked now, voice sounding almost concerned as he looked at Hal with searching eyes. "What men would have free access to our garb? My men are quartered close unto the king, and only one admitted to those rooms could hope to take one jerkin, far less six"

Six. They had been dressed in uniforms of Henry's household. And their had been six of them. Slowly, Hal lowered his head into his hands and laughed an almost unhinged laugh.

"I am as foolish, Sire, as you think," he said, shaking his head. "I pray you all, forget this freakish start. I did not mean to so disrupt your day. I'll leave you now and cause no more discord."

"I am, I think, an explanation owed," Henry said in a wry voice. "You do, I take it, know who has your wife?"

"I do believe I do, and if I'm right, they shall regret the day they hatched their plan."

"Renaldo then shall go along with you," Henry surprised Hal by saying. "She is, for now, a member of my house, and as such we cannot allow insult. When you have her extracted from this mess, I will expect you all to return here. I have some words which I would say to thee."

Hal did not miss the formal tone on the end of his father's decree, but for now he had more important matters to attend to. The pieces had fallen into place, and he was reasonably certain that he knew just where he would find Nell. Heaven help the men when he got there.

[fanfictionaries]

Love and Academia Ch. 8 - Texting and Treats

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide, Angst

Author’s note: Flirting? FLIRTING? That is all. 

And as always, I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. It’s just little ol’ me!

***

One month. One month was all it took for the weather to turn and with it, Emily’s brain to mush. She was tired of staring at spreadsheets. Tired of Excel formulas and mapping software. Tired of literary research. And most importantly, tired of having to see Dr. Barnes’ face. To be fair, things were undeniably better than they had been the first few weeks of the semester. It was honestly a relief not having to act so cold towards him. It left room for more productive things like revisions, classes, and figuring out what the heck was going on with her advisor and his wife. Despite her best efforts, Emily had found herself consumed by the mystery that was Dr. James Buchanan Barnes’ love life.

“Now when we think about the different kinds of life cycles that organisms have, we usually think primarily of the gametic life cycle,” said the man in question from his place at the front of the classroom.

Emily sat in the right most seat, in the front row of the lecture hall casually listening. While this was all information she learned years ago, it was encouraged that teaching assistants attended the lectures that coincided with the labs they taught. That way they could match the content effectively. Glancing around the room, she wanted to laugh at the number of young, freshman girls sat in the front. They probably thought they hit the jackpot. First semester of college and they had possibly the hottest professor they would ever encounter. Emily thought back to her own professors during her time at Montana State. Every last one of them was over fifty and balding. Definitely not something to fantasize about.

“The gametic life cycle is the life cycle of most animals. However, there is also the sporic and zygotic life cycles.” Dr. Barnes turned to write the three life cycle names on the chalk board behind him. Emily’s eyes wandered to his broad shoulders encased by a green flannel shirt tucked into a pair of khaki pants that hugged his perfectly sculpted behind. No. She couldn’t think like that. He was married. This she could not deny by the wedding ring he kept so obviously on his left hand. But hadn’t he pretty much told her that his wife didn’t live with him? Just him and Trixie in that big house.

Trixie. God. She felt so stupid when she found out that Trixie was his dog and not his wife. If she had let herself focus on the moment for any longer than a second, she might come to the conclusion that jealousy had fueled the embarrassment. She expected him to be on a date with his loving wife. Not spending the night walking his dog and coming home to an empty house. But that was not the case. Instead, she chose to conclude that the embarrassment stemmed from the fact that she had made any assumption in the first place. No one liked to be wrong. Right?

Still, none of that answered her burning question. Where was Dr. Barnes’ wife? She had a few theories. Perhaps she hadn’t moved from Brooklyn yet. He had just moved into the area. Couples would move separately sometimes. One moving first and the other coming later when their job allowed. But if that were the case, then why did he look so sad when he mentioned being alone?

“Can anyone tell me what kind of organisms experience a zygotic life cycle?” Dr. Barnes asked, turning back to the class. A plethora of eager hands shot straight up in the air. Smiling in amusement, he called on one of the girls from the front row.

“Yes, Miss Hendrickson.”

“Is it plants, like mosses?” the young girl answered. Emily wanted to laugh. Clearly, she hadn’t done the reading and only raised her hand at the opportunity for Dr. Barnes to call on her.

Maybe he had been sad because he’s a good husband who loves his wife and misses her. Well, if that were true, then he wouldn’t have taken off his wedding ring and almost hooked up with her. Emily’s mind wandered to that night, as it often did. The cool brick digging into her back as he devoured her. The stubble of his beard so deliciously rough. The strength of his hands as he gripped her body tightly.

“Miss Colvert, would you like to enlighten the rest of the class?”

“Huh?” Emily broke from her momentary fantasy to see all eyes on her. Dr. Barnes liked to do this. When no one else knew the answer, he’d call on her. It was like a little test on her basic knowledge of biological concepts.

“It appears no one knows what has a zygotic life cycle. Would you like to give us the answer?” Dr. Barnes elaborated, looking at her expectantly.

“Oh, um. That would be fungi and protists. They’re haploid most of their life cycle and the zygote is the only diploid phase before it undergoes meiosis to produce haploid cells.”

“Very good Miss Colvert—” he smiled at her, a brief flash of brilliantly white teeth “—Now, let’s go ahead and draw out the zygotic life cycle to give everyone a better idea.�� Dr. Barnes turned once again towards the board as he continued on with the lecture.

There was always the harsh fact that Dr. Barnes had in fact stopped things that night before they went too far. Maybe he regretted it. Maybe it was just a momentary lapse in judgement. Maybe him and his wife were separated, and he wasn’t ready to fully let go. At the thought, Emily felt her heart leap with excitement. The emotion was quickly followed by a strong wave of guilt. Emily shook her head, trying to clear it of her messy thoughts. This was taking up too much brain space. Space she needed for her thesis.

Whatever the answer was, it didn’t matter. Dr. Barnes was her advisor. There was a clear line that could not be crossed. Therefore, it did not matter. She needed to let the subject go and just move on.

Two days of “moving on”, Emily found herself elbow deep in flour, butter, sugar, and eggs, but no less preoccupied by the thoughts of Dr. Barnes.

“Tell me why we needed to use my kitchen when you have a perfectly good one?” Emily asked Natasha, looking at the disastrous mess around her. Flour covered every surface, including the floor and themselves. Butter wrappers and eggshells sat piled high in the trashcan. Splashes of cookie dough coated countertops and cabinet fronts. And Natasha was planted squarely in front of the oven, watching the fruits of their labor bake.

“Because, you have the most baking supplies out of everyone I know,” said Natasha, never tearing her anxious eyes away from the small glass window. She was a mess. Several pieces of red hair had fallen from her attempted ponytail. Blobs of cookie dough hug from the strands, sticking like large, grotesque, white grub worms. Flour covered all of her clothes and a manic expression covered her face. Oh, she had it bad.

“You know, the cookies aren’t going to bake any faster by you staring at them.”

“I can’t let them burn, Emily. This is important!” exclaimed Natasha, threading her fingers through her sticky hair and pulling at the roots.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey—” Emily slid off her place on the countertop and crouched down next to Natasha on the floor “—Listen. There are already five dozen perfectly baked snickerdoodles sitting in Tupperware on my dining room table. The world won’t end if this last dozen gets a little dark.”

“But-but—”

“No, no, no. No buts. Besides, you only volunteered to bring two dozen cookies to Steve’s bake sale. Remember?”

“Yea, but I mean, we-we needed—”

“Test batches. Yes. I remember the last five hours very vividly.” Emily cupped her best friend’s face in her hands and stared into her frightened eyes, “Steve is going to love these. Please, breathe.”

Natasha nodded, taking a deep breath, “Okay. Okay, yea you’re right. You’re right. I just need to calm down.”

They both stood, pulling each other into a tight hug before separating and beginning to tidy up the kitchen. As Emily wiped the cabinet fronts with a washrag, she finally felt like Natasha was in the right headspace for her to ask the question that had been on her mind all afternoon.

“Hey so, you and Steve have gotten pretty close the last month and a half, yea?”

“Yea, it’s been so great. You know, I really think that taking it slow was the best idea,” said Natasha as she dumped a dirty bowl in the sink and turned the faucet on.

“And I’m sure he’s probably told you a lot of stuff about him…and his friends…”

“Where is this going Emily?”

“Has he mentioned anything about Dr. Barnes or like…his wife?” The moment the words left her mouth, Emily knew it was a mistake to ask.

“No. Absolutely not. I am not doing this with you Emily,” said Natasha, throwing the kitchen sponge down into the soapy water.

“What?” Emily asked, trying to pretend she hadn’t just asked her best friend for details about her advisor’s marriage.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Emily Colvert. You know what you’re doing. Actually, no. Do you know what you’re doing?” Natasha leant against the countertop and crossing her arms in front of her.

“I’m trying to get to know my advisor better?”

“No, you’re trying to use my still very new relationship to get dirt on a marriage that doesn’t involve you!”

“You know, you used to be a lot more fun. What happened to fun Nat?”

“She started dating a kindergarten teacher. Now, answer this question Emily: why do you want to know about his wife? I thought we hated this man,” Natasha said, staring skeptically at her.

“We did, but now we might be okay with him…” Emily admitted, unable to look directly at the admittedly terrifying woman that was her best friend.

“Emily, are you sleeping with him? Because if you are, I don’t know whether I should be disappointed or oddly proud.”

“No! I’m not sleeping with him! I’m just curious!”

“Okay, I’m only going to say this once—” Natasha walked towards her “—he is your advisor. The details of his marriage are none of your business. As your therapist—”

“You’re not my therapist—”

“—And your friend, I highly recommend that you keep your curiosity buried. Deep down. You know, where you keep all the shit you probably should talk about. And stop trying to sabotage my relationship with Steve by making me snoop for you.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Emily apologized, guilty for having tried to rope Natasha into her craziness.

“I know you’re going through a lot right now. But, not cool man. Not cool,” said Natasha, her tone lighter as she nudged Emily’s side.

Natasha’s phone buzzed from the counter, subsequently putting an end to their conversation. The smile that spread across her face as she checked her phone told Emily exactly who it was. Steve.

“What does hunky farm boy want now?” Emily asked, turning to the sink and taking over washing the dishes.

“Parent-teacher conferences ended early. He wants make me dinner,” said Natasha, still smiling down at her phone as her thumbs typed away.

“Ooooo dinner at his place. Does this mean you’re finally going to…ya know?” Emily raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“God. I hope so. He’s so hot Emily. I went and visited him at work the other day and he was having a tea party with a couple of the girls in his class during play time. I’ve never wanted to fuck a man in a flower sunhat so badly in my life,” groaned Natasha, burying her face in Emily’s back.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what goes on inside of your bedroom,” Emily said, shaking her head in exasperation as she scrubbed at a spatula.  

“There’s a lot of roleplay and prop use,” mumbled Natasha into Emily’s back.

“Yea, I didn’t need to know that,” said Emily, wriggling away from the tiny red head. “Now, get out of here. Take your cookies and go have sex your very single, very hot kindergarten teacher.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Natasha exclaimed, practically skipping out of the kitchen. Emily heard the faint sounds of Natasha grabbing her stuff and a muffled “Wish me luck!” before her front door slammed shut. Lord have mercy on that man.

She continued to clean the kitchen as she thought about the advice that Nat had given her. Natasha was right. She knew she was right. For all the gripe she gave the woman, she really did give the best advice. But still, she didn’t see any reason why it would be so wrong to get to know the man. As friends of course. Purely as friends. There was nothing wrong with having your advisor as a friend. She was friends with Dr. Erskine. He was married. Why couldn’t she be friends with Dr. Barnes? A little voice somewhere in the back of her mind tried to remind her that she had never been in a situation where she almost slept with Dr. Erskine, but she ignored it. They had agreed to try and have a working relationship. Therefore, everything that had happened was in the past.

Drying the last dish and placing it back into the cupboard, the timer on her phone chimed alerting her that the last batch of cookies was done. She pulled the piping hot, cinnamon-sugar creations from the oven and placed it on the stovetop before turning the alarm off on her phone. The scent of the delicious treats made her mouth water. It was going to be a challenge not eating all of them in one sitting, but at least Natasha only left her with a single batch. Turning out of the kitchen, she found her assumption to be incredibly incorrect. There, sitting on her dining room table, was nearly three dozen cookies. Emily sighed. Apparently, she’d be responsible for finding a home for all the test batches. She could probably pawn a dozen off of on Sam and CeCe. There was always the graduate student lounge. People left food there all the time. Of course, she’d keep half a dozen for herself – there was no way she could resist snickerdoodles.

Suddenly, a self-proclaimed sweets lover popped into her head.

Pulling up the message app on her phone she sighed as she stared at the string of unanswered texts from Clint. He’d been trying to contact her since the day she kicked him out. Emily wanted none of it. Every call she sent straight to voicemail and every text she left on read. She took a moment to glance at the most recent texts.

Clint:

Babe. I swear to you, I didn’t want to go to Goody’s. I wasn’t there with Sharon. It was a lab thing. I found out where we were going when they pulled into the parking lot.

Clint:

Things with Sharon and me are over.

Clint:

How many times do I have to tell you that it meant nothing? It was just a stupid mistake.

Clint:

The least you could do is answer my calls and talk to me like an adult.

Clint:

This is exactly why I did what I did! You’re always so unwilling to open yourself up emotionally to me! I wouldn’t have cheated if my emotional needs were being met.

Clint:

I’m sorry Em. I didn’t mean that.

Clint:

It’s completely my fault. I’m just going crazy without you. I miss you. Please talk to me.

A small part of Emily told her to text him back. He gave her two years of his life. Didn’t she at least owe him the decency to explain himself? A larger part of her scoffed at the thought. No. She gave him two years of her life, and he didn’t even have the decency not to cheat on her. To hell with him and his reasons and opinions.

Pulling up her conversation with Dr. Barnes’, she smiled at his contact name – Brooklyn. She only meant it as a way to tease him about his big city caution, never as an actual nickname. But apparently, he liked it. So, she kept it. Moving back into the kitchen, Emily picked up one of the hot cookies and began to nibble on the edge as she popped herself up onto the counter.

Emily:

Question – do you still happen to have a major sweet tooth?

Absentmindedly, she chewed on the cookie, switching over to Twitter and telling herself that it wasn’t a big deal that she texted him. It was casual. It was just a casual question. She had extra cookies. He probably liked cookies. Normal. Super normal. However, the way her heart leapt in her chest and her phone leapt in her hand made her feel anything but normal.

Brooklyn:

If I didn’t, would I be going to town on the three loaves of banana bread Steve dropped off earlier?

Emily:

Bake sale?

Brooklyn:

Bake sale.

Emily:

Test batches?

Brooklyn:

Yup. He wanted to impress Natasha. How did you know?

Emily:

I just spent the last five hours baking with Nat. We made a lot of test batches.

Brooklyn:

Wow. They were made for each other.

Emily couldn’t agree more. If Steve truly spent the entire afternoon baking multiple loaves of banana bread to impress Natasha, then her best friend might have found the one.

Emily:

So, I’m guess since you already have three loaves of banana bread you probably don’t want any snickerdoodles?

Brooklyn:

I never said that.

She laughed at his quick response.

Brooklyn:

Are they any good?

Emily:

It’s my personal recipe.

Brooklyn:

That doesn’t answer the question.

Emily:

It’s the best cookie you’ll ever have.

Brooklyn:

The best? That’s a pretty strong statement.

Emily:

I wouldn’t make it if it wasn’t true.

Dots appeared on the screen as Dr. Barnes responded. Emily watched, wondering what he could possibly be typing as the seconds ticked by. Finally, they disappeared to be replaced by his response.

Brooklyn:

Do I get to taste your cookie?

Emily choked on the bite of cookie she’d been chewing. Coughing and sputtering, she attempted to dislodge the treat from her throat. When she’d finally managed to avoid certain death, she turned the faucet on beside her and used her hand to scoop water into her mouth. Glancing back down at the phone in her other hand, she stared at the message. Did he mean it to sound that way? To sound so dirty? Heart beating prominently in her ears, she gathered what courage she had and replied.

Emily:

You can have a taste.

Emily:

Of my cookie that is.

Oh god. Way to keep it professional. What had she done?

Brooklyn:

I’m sure your cookie is delicious. When can I have a bite?

Abort. Abort. Things were quickly getting out of hand. She was exchanging sexual innuendos with the man when all she wanted was to get rid of some of her extra baked goods. The way she saw it, Emily had two options: keep the flirting going and see where it went or put a stop to it now. In a panic, she chose the second option.

Emily:

I’ll bring a dozen into the lab tomorrow! I’m sure you’ll like them. Feel free to share them with the other professors as well. G2G! See you in class.

Hitting send, Emily threw her phone face down onto the counter. Shoving the rest of the snickerdoodle into her mouth, she jumped off the counter and walked towards the bathroom. She needed a long, cold shower.

Marvel Taglist: 

@caffiend-queen​

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​