#who UNDERSTAND the appropriate way to lecture the blond man

[cicerfics]

#q aggressively pushing m16 psychologists and medical staff out of the way#to break james bond out of the hospital wing and drive him home#while delivering a lengthy and detailed speech on Why We Do Not Fake Our Deaths And How This Behaviour Will Be Rectified#then having him vigorously up against the hallway wall#in order to 'drive' his point home...#while the rest of mi6 pretend not to know why the quartermaster has unexpectedly disappeared for the weekend#science!

@bishybarnaby I'M WHEEZING

you cannot fix that blond man please step away and let the professionals take over

[gallusrostromegalus]

TPOFATGIF LORE: What Everyone Looks Like

It Occured to me that

1. I don't actually describe what anyone in the fic looks like because I was sort of assuming everyone had seen/read some of the source material

2. I have a lot of OCs. Who I didn't describe either.

Me Smort.

Anyway, coming out of a verys tressful fortnight (Herschel had pneumonia and had to be on antibiotics/house rest so I pretty much didn't sleep but he is fine now), and like in Drawing, it's important to do warm-up exercises, so:

Yugi Moto:

Near the front of the classroom sat Yugi Moto, who was as close as someone could become to being one of those brightly colored plush animals you win at the carnival while still being human. He was technically five feet tall but at least six inches of that was a red-tinted black and splash of blonde hair whose vertical nature had stumped over a dozen barbers so far. His shoes, untied, dangled a few inches from the floor because the high school desk was sized for someone who had spent their puberty getting tall instead of getting shoved into lockers. Two notebooks open on his desk- one with paltry notes on the Teapot Dome Scandal they were supposed to be studying, the other, much more detailed containing notes about crad draw probablility curves and drawings of wizards. If he was going to study for the test, he'd recall more about the lecture by lookng at the second. The teacher called on him, and he looked up at her with a politely guiless expression that could easily be mistaken for a Customer Service Smile (TM), but something about the sustained eye contact and faint tilt of his head put more observant people in mind of something vaugely... carnivorous.

More Peeps under the Cut:

Joey Wheeler

Imagine if, in the Air Bud movies, the school had insisted that if the dog wanted to be a student athlete, that he be a student as well as an athlete, and attend classes. Imagine a Golden Retriver, seated awkwardly in one of those wretched plastic desk-chair combos, staring at a board of chemical formulas and trying, trying so hard in the desperate and earnest way that all working dogs try, to understand even a bit of what was happening, and you will have something very close to what it was like to sit next to Joey Wheeler. Right down to the blonde hair that got in your jacket and total inability to sit in a chair like a Normal Human. He consistently had one gangly leg thrown over the desk or propped up on his backpack, the other folded in an origami-like position under him. He counteracts his lack of academic comprehension with a soical genius any confidence man would murder to have. His smile is genuine and charming and sweet enough that you'll explain the pH scale slowly and with appropriately small words for him. He has never forgotten a single birthday of anyone he's ever met and is close to exceding the limit of possible contacts in his phone, so should the man ever end up in real trouble he absolutely knows who to call and how to get them to come fix this.

Téa Gardner:

Ballerinas are frequently described as birds in popular culture- graceful swans, delicate hummingbirds, beautiful as doves, and for some reason, docile and submissive, which is weird because all of those birds can and will beat the tar out of things eight and ten times thier size for merely looking at them funny. Téa also, was a ballerina that greatly resemebled a bird, and that bird was a cassowary. She had the magnificent calves and quads of a valkyrie, the eye of the Tiger and the the compettitive instincts of a stallion. All this, dressed in the most pastels-and-pinks-jellyroll-glitterpen-Bows- ribbons-and-ruffles-sixteen-layers-of-Bracelets-and-bangles-unapologetic-teenage-girlhood possible. She'll kick you apart and write about it with a pink glitter pen in her diary.

Tristan Taylor:

If you were to draw a Triange of Modern Former-Boy Adventuers with Fred Jones (earnest hubris and weirdly comprehensive engineering knowledge), Geralt of Rivia (Muscles, love of horses) and Tintin (Inventive hair, willingess to Shoot A Bitch) on each of the points, Tristan Taylor would be at the exact center. In any other show he'd be the protagonist, with his classically handsome good looks and ability to give clear directions in an emergency, but instead he lives in a world dictated by the whims of What's Funny rather than any kind of predictable physics and thus it is his destiny to cling to reality with white knuckles and occasionally hit it with a tire iron until it stops trying to steal people's souls or whatever bullshit is happening this week.

Bakura

Bakura looks like firstly, someone who gets into strange bargains with the fair folk, secondly, that he absolutely did at some point, thirdly, that the rule of the exchange was that he could have whatever it was but he would forever be described by a single adjective, and finally, that he is a little shit bastard and grabbed the word "ambiguity" from the fairy and ran off with it, and whatever the bonus prize was, cackling into the night. Is he a world-weary teenager or a babyfaced young man? Is he a He at all? Showing up to school in the boys uniform was very much a concious choice on his part- nobody would have doubted a thing if he'd shown up in a skirt instead. Is he holding onto that cursed artifact because he can't let anyone else deal with it in good conscience, or has he become friends with the thing inside? Are those fangs? Do you really want to know for sure?

Seto Kaiba

Seto Kaiba is a Theater Kid that was taken from his native habitat and raised in captivity, like how sometimes people think that it's fine to keep a tiger like a housecat. This is terrible for all parties involved- the tiger never gets proper nutirtion or enrichment activities and grows up gangly and full of nerves until it eventually turns on it's keeper and the headlines run on about the totally preventable tragedy, like they had not been featuring the tiger in reality the week before. Seto is all limbs and a glare that belies both contempt and terror, and an ostentatious trenchcoat to provide him cover the cage never did. He's out of the cage now but still all ribs and knobby joints and snarls and stalks where he doesn't knw how to smile or stroll. He'll grow into it, And that's a Threat.

[redorich]

to those who carried on

A fic for @petrichormeraki​ and their Hermit!Tommy AU.

-------

The hermits know Tommy as a quiet young man who is very sad and contemplative. The more time they spend with him (against his will, but they know he needs the company) the more they learn of the little details. His favorite block is cobblestone, he likes building towers, and apparently his favorite woman is the Queen. They don’t ask why he wears a smiley mask even though he never seems happy. They don’t ask why he hides important things in his ender chest. They don’t ask why he wears a shattered compass on a chain about his neck.

(Once, he died in lava and lost his absolute mind. He was so upset about the compass that he didn’t even mention the stack and a half of diamond ore he had on him. Xisuma ended up manually rolling back the server just so Tommy could have it back.)

As time goes on, the tremors in Tommy's hands grow lesser. His dull blond hair seems a bit brighter, his bruises fade quicker, he doesn’t look quite so skinny-- he spends his time serenely building, resource gathering instead of running and fighting. He has a sense of humor under all that trauma, which the hermits unfortunately find out after another massive-scale prank war thought to be instigated by Grian actually turns out to be Tommy's fault.

Tommy starts swearing more. Doc gets the stink eye from Stress for this, but Doc insists he’s never once sworn around the young man. (That’s an absolute lie, but it wasn’t anything Tommy hadn’t heard before. Tommy thinks Doc is remarkably unoriginal in his cursing. He does take note of the German ones, though.)

Inviting Tommy to PvP minigames can be touchy, they learn. He likes to fight, but he fights like an animal with nothing to lose. Grian once chanted, “It stays in the pit!” and everyone present had to spend the next five minutes wrangling Tommy’s soul back into his body from wherever it’d floated off to.

Tommy likes to glide with his elytra. He claims he’s never had one before, but he flies like such a natural that a few people have their doubts. On a dark desert night, with dark blue eyes watching the night sky, he confides to Cub that it reminds him of the way his dad used to fly. He hates rockets, though. He does not confide to Cub that it reminds him of what his brother did to his best friend. He says enough that Cub can guess, though.

Scar gets fed up with Tommy’s creeper holes and makes Tommy help him fix them. At first, Tommy has no clue why Scar is breaking out things like coarse dirt and birch leaves and making the ground all fancy, but he’s not afraid of a little hard work and Scar makes it fun. He learns a lot about terraforming that day, and awkwardly comes back a few days later asking if Scar needs any more help terraforming. Tommy still hasn’t built a real base, not by Hermitcraft standards, but the small hill he’s built his dirt hut near now has a very beautiful, if amateurish, waterfall. He doesn’t tell Scar about this, but Scar finds out anyway. Tommy wakes up one morning to find that someone has left a shulker box in his house. Instead of iron-gripped paranoia, he just feels wonder that someone would give him a gift-- to the hermits, a single shulker box is nothing. To Tommy, it’s everything.

The shulker box contains coarse dirt, birch leaves, and a silk touch shovel.

Tommy helps Xisuma mine a giant hole in the ground near bedrock, because he realizes that he’s never thanked the admin for getting him his compass back. Well, that and the fact that instamining with a haste two beacon and an efficiency five pickaxe is a novelty. Xisuma lets him keep the cobble, since everyone knows it’s Tommy’s favorite block, but also insists he keep some of the other blocks like andesite and diorite. He pats Tommy on the head and tells him to talk to Bdubs about building a house some time. Tommy nods. He's taken aback by how tall Xisuma is, completely contrasting his mild nature. He reminds Tommy of Wilbur, on one of his good days before... Before. Not Ghostbur, though-- the admin is much too alive.

Tommy waits too long, so eventually Bdubs comes to him. The man is silly and outrageous, playing everything for laughs and unexpectedly tender. Bdubs plays up how beautiful he thinks Tommy’s hideous dirt shack is, then offers to help him build a house that’s better. For Tommy, building a house means settling down, accepting that this is his home now. Bdubs doesn’t know this. Tommy builds cobblestone dicks while Bdubs tries to lecture him about depth and block variation. Nothing gets done and Bdubs feels like he might have failed, but come next week Bdubs is flying over the area and sees the dicks are gone; so is the dirt house. In its place is a spruce-and-cobble cottage nestled near the tiny waterfall. Off to the side, he’s made a cozy doghouse for his fox, Theo. Bdubs doesn’t know how close that fox came to being named Fundy.

He spars with False, and she very pointedly does not mention how his stances are uniquely suited to a piglin. There’s only one renowned fighter who’s a piglin, after all. It's Tommy’s story to tell, if he ever does, why he’s seen enough of the legendary Technoblade’s fights to pick up on his stances, yet he’s not experienced enough to know that they don’t suit him. Instead, False gives him different stances suited more for tall, skinny people like the two of them. She’s got blond hair and blue eyes just like him. (Not that she’d know. She’s never seen his eyes, hidden behind his mask as they are.) Every now and then, he imagines her as an older sister, and the one time he says so, she smiles. When Tommy’s at home, looking at his own distorted reflection in his waterfall (he’s improved it since he built it), he muses that their eyes aren’t the same, their hair colors are subtly off. It’s close enough, he thinks.

Stress dies from fall damage and Tommy goes out of his way to pick up her stuff, because the hermits do these things out of the kindness of their hearts. The thought never even crosses their minds to steal. It crosses his mind. He doesn’t do it. Stealing from Stress would be like stealing from Niki.

He shows up at Cleo’s base unannounced and demands to see the “cool shit”. He is appropriately enthused by the giant armor-stand-bugs. She tries teaching him her armor stand magic, but it doesn’t really sink in. It’s okay, she assures him, most people don’t have the knack for it. He does, however, learn that buttons make excellent decorations. He also learns how to braid hair, bribed by ice cream. He is terrible at it, to the point where Joe has to come by to help the two untangle her hair so Tommy can start again. Watching the two bicker over capitalism and six million armor stands and a whole host of other inside jokes he doesn’t get, he thinks he’s starting to understand what friendship is supposed to be like. Joe and Cleo don’t see him clutching his compass. He and Tubbo weren’t too far off from this, given their circumstances. Maybe...

Maybe Tubbo can be forgiven.

Tommy makes minigames of his own, ones that don’t just kill you and steal your stuff. He builds things that are pretty instead of just functional, brews potions with Stress and only calls them drugs once (again, upsetting her is like upsetting Niki. Best not done), and sets up chicken bombs above people’s bases instead of just lavacasting them. (As Grian saw the hundreds of chickens slowly raining down upon his mansion, he got such a peculiar look on his face that Tommy feared he’d fucked up. The shorter, stronger (much stronger oh god why is he so strong despite being so small) man nearly crushed Tommy’s lungs in a hug, proclaiming how proud he was of Tommy. Tommy was proud of himself for not accidentally murdering Grian out of reflex. Was this what healing was like?)

Yes. It is what healing is like. Tommy knows this because that wound gets ripped open again. Tango shows him how to build the most obnoxious redstone-powered noise machine the two can think of. Tango digs a small pit, and asks Tommy to throw down his axe. Suddenly, Tommy’s in Logstedshire again; it’s not Tango asking, it’s Dream. His hands don’t shake when he tosses his axe into the pit, followed by his sword and his armor. It isn't until he’s placed the TNT down that Tango grabs his wrist and asks him what he’s doing. Tommy’s eyes clear enough that he can see past the blond hair and freckles. Tango isn’t green, he’s red. He's shorter than Dream, and his worried eyes are unhidden. Tommy shudders, then tells Tango everything.

Tango has no pity for Tommy, just understanding and sympathy. He doesn’t push Tommy to talk about it, but when Tommy’s done telling his story, Impulse and Zedaph show up. They all pretend that Tommy’s voice isn’t hoarse, that they all didn’t conveniently happen to look away when Tommy took off his mask just long enough to wipe his eyes. The men bake a cake together, fool around with honey blocks, and don’t talk about it.

Tommy knows very little about redstone, considers himself more of a builder and a fighter than an engineer. Still, Mumbo’s living base is inspiring, and Tommy often hangs around the man’s industrial district just to watch Mumbo work. Mumbo knows that Tommy hasn’t purchased a day pass, but it’s nice having someone around to talk to while he works. It’s not like Tommy is stealing anything. (Tommy totally steals from Mumbo’s industrial district storage system. The man’s farms are so efficient that he doesn’t even notice, so Tommy assumes it’s fine. What Mumbo doesn’t know won’t hurt him.)

Lava still isn’t his favorite thing in the world. He stays far away from it, instead of imagining what it would be like to hurtle towards it. Ren doesn’t really notice this, but he does notice that Tommy doesn’t seem to like his mustafarian base. On a spur-of-the-moment whim, Ren whips up some absurd plotline in which he is a lone weary traveller seeking refuge at Tommy’s base from strange alien overlords. The two have fun together, and the young man cracks more absurd jokes about it than the hermits have ever seen him do. When Ren leaves a week later to return to his own base, Tommy keeps being absurd, if a bit more subdued without someone to play off of. He builds a shrine to the “prime log”, which grows more elaborate each day. Beef and xB pretend to be his acolytes, despite having no clue what a “twitch prime” is.

They can’t see his face, but the smile in his voice is a far cry from the despondency he once wore like a heavy cloak. He is so much more animated and alive, full of motivation. He builds an entire island in three days, and hand-delivers an invitation to each and every hermit for his beach party. Everyone shows up, even those with packed schedules (Iskall) and those with introverted tendencies (Etho). Tommy is nearly moved to tears when they show up in groups of twos and threes, as though he hadn’t expected anyone to come. There aren’t enough chairs for everyone, but there is more than enough cake to go around. Tango brings drinks, Impulse brings meat to barbecue, and Zedaph makes an elaborate jump-powered grill. Keralis brings way too much confetti and several handfuls of cheap, obnoxious party noisemakers. Stress brings Tommy a crown made out of alliums. It shines far less than his brother’s gold crown, and it’ll die in a few days, but he wears it all night and keeps it in his ender chest until it withers away.

He spends five days teaching himself to make flower crowns. Even his best attempt is awful, nowhere near as pretty as the crowns Stress makes, but when he gives it to her, she takes off the one she was wearing and wears his until it falls apart.

He dies fighting a creeper on Grian’s behalf, and doesn’t even panic, because he trusts that however many times he dies, no matter how stupid or ignominious or revolutionary or important, Xisuma will always let him respawn.

He spends a grand total of nine diamonds to buy a single plot of land in the shopping district. He builds a cute little bench facing the sunset, with warmly glowing street lights on either side and a small garden. At the end of the bench he places a jukebox, and buys every single disc that Beef’s music shop sells, including Pigstep. He sits on the bench while Mellohi plays and watches the tiny silhouettes of his friends flying in the evening sky. Tommy looks alone on that bench, even if he seems happy, so sometimes other people stop by to sit with him. Scar declares the bench area a public park, since everyone likes it so much, and refunds Tommy his nine diamonds straight from the throne.

[pearl-blue-musings]

Perchance to Meet pt. 4

Hi again! 

Back at it again with anotha one. I didn’t put it on the other ones, my bad, but it is a fem reader. I apologize if that makes anyone uncomfortable!

Warnings: language, suggestive language, angst, you’ll probably hate me at the end but oh well 

  Part 5 

Masterlist

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

After that night, Aizawa tried his best to do what was best for him and his girlfriend. Regardless of what that enailed, he would do it. By no means did that mean he worked any less, he did what any over zealous workaholic does.

He began to stretch himself too thin.

On top of his teaching, patrolling, and keeping (Y/n) safe, the pro-hero barely had time for himself. He felt it was worth it, so long as work and personal life never interfered with each other or her work life for that matter, things were fine.

He did his best to believe his own façade until an early on staff meeting. He sent his love a quick text letting her know that he’d be late to her store because of a staff meeting. That’s alright, she responded, I’ve had some extra stuff come up at the shop with the café portion. Be safe baby uwu

Aizawa rolled his eyes, if you ever say that again I’m not picking up sweets on the way home.

Uwu uwu??

You’re lucky I love you

Uwu! 

The man chuckled and put his phone down, preparing himself for the meeting. So far the school year had gone pretty smoothly regardless of his attempts to expel students from the first week. The meeting at hand was just a normal staff meeting, going over the upcoming calendar for the whole school and going into smaller details like who would be at the USJ in the upcoming two weeks. He doesn’t show it, but he’s very excited for his kids to begin training at the USJ and with All Might and Thirteen there they are sure going to learn and grow in the right way.

After the meeting ended, everyone was rounding up their belongings and having idle chit chat. Aizawa is so close to tasting the sweet relief of the end of the day when he’s stopped by a couple teachers.

He’s met with whimsical sapphire eyes that match a grin on the ravenette’s face. “So, when am I going to meet the mystery woman that’s clearly stolen your heart.”

“Nemuri,” Aizawa sighs, “it’s not appropriate to talk about personal relationships during school hours.”

Ruby lips frown and pout, “Aw come on Aizawa! You’ve been together for almost a year now! Why haven’t you brought her to any of the staff outings?”

“Maybe because she’s busy too? I don’t wanna get into it.”

“It’s true!” The loud voice interrupting can only belong to one obnoxious blond. “She runs her own bookstore and bartends to make money for said bookstore! She’s a workaholic just like him. A match made in heaven!”

Upon his arrival, Present Mic had wrapped his arm around his friends shoulders to bring the three of them closer as they walk out of the room. As much as he wants to shove the arm off of his body he doesn’t feel the need to.

“Oh,” Midnight surmises, “so that’s why I haven’t met her! Stop hiding her from us Eraser we want to meet her.”

“You will, eventually.”

Nemuri scoffs, “Eventually?! You’ve been saying that for months.”

“Ah but what if he’s keeping her a secret on purpose?”

A new voice shocks the trio as they turn around to see Principal Nezu walking with a frailer looking All Might. All Might shakes his head and points to Nezu. “I mean, Eraserhead is a very busy man who puts his life on the line for his students and community. Who’s to say he’s not doing it for her safety?”

That makes the three teachers stop and think, but Aizawa’s train of thought isn’t exactly the same as his peers. The principal has a point. Up to this point, he hadn’t been able to bring her because of their crazy schedule and diligence to their respective jobs; granted they always made time for each other. But what if that’s a big part of it? Now that the number one hero is at the school he teaches, having a close connection to his class he might add, doesn’t that put a bigger target on his back for villains?

He’s tried not to think too much about the increase in villain activity since All Might’s presence, however it is now unavoidable. There’s always the possibility of an attack, the press made that pretty obvious, but Aizawa wouldn’t put it past any villain to do their research. Has he been safe enough when he’s been out with (Y/n)? Were they being tailed or followed by anyone on their many dates? Shit, has she gotten any new customers that might be a problem?

How could he have been so stupid and blind to not see the potential danger she’s in just by being with him? He had never felt like this before; never been so pulled into one person. He had avoided dating for this reason but how could she make him forget all of those reasons?

“It’s clear to me you love her and that you have a lot to think about Aizawa,” Nezu finishes, “but you always know what to do! I may not know her but I wish the two of you happiness!”

*****************************

(Y/n) tried her best to hold back her anger and frustration, but it was inevitable. Even with the addition of the café and a couple extra workers, she still needed to pull hours at the club. The struggle was indeed real. She desperately wants to slam her head on her desk but she knows that it’ll only upset Aizawa to see her physically hurt. So she keeps her head up with her arm and continues to look through the books for the last month.

No one had been stealing, everyone was working hard, hell even Kona had taken extra hours to help ease her stress over keeping the business running. But it wasn’t enough. No matter what she did, it wasn’t enough to keep working like this. Her tired eyes bore into the calendar knowing she can’t take much time off soon regardless of how much she wants to. Her time off will come in the form of a conference she’s been invited to attend and hold a small lecture. It’ll talk about how running a business you love while using your quirk for good is still considered heroic in its own right. I mean, she and all her friends knew that but there are still so many people in this society who feel less than because their quirks aren’t heroic…

Her mind begins to wander to her friends, Aizawa, one of her older favorite customers…

Ah yes, she hadn’t seen them in the last couple of years. She couldn’t remember the moms name, but her child always came in with another daycare every now and then, Eri. She had the prettiest white hair and red eyes, and the cutest little horn that was on her head. (Y/n) really missed her, but she assumed because of something with her quirk she stopped showing up, or maybe they moved; they would always come around the same time as if on some schedule.

A deep exhale escapes her mouth as she attempts to focus on the task at hand. She was finally making some headway in organizing the schedule and financial books when she hears an abrupt knock on the window. In a daze, (Y/n) leaves her office to walk toward the front, staring at the turned off ‘Open’ sign in frustration. But who is she to deny someone who might need help?

“Sir,” she yawns, “I’m sorry but we’re closed right now.”

The man in front of her has a menacing look that sends a chill down her spine. The mask covering his face makes it hard to distinguish his figures, and she notices the gloves over his hands. “Are you not (Y/f/n)?”

“Uh, yes? And may I ask who wants to know?”

The man chuckles, “I have a request from someone you may know.” He hands her a piece of paper and she hesitantly takes it. All that is on it are a few words that she is able to identify as a particular book in a children’s fantasy, her quirk coming to her aide. “I have the money already if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Unsteadiness rises in the young woman. She searches his eyes for any kind of familiarity but fails to find any. “Ah, well sir I have the right book in mind. Could you wait right here?”

The man waits for her as he watches her go inside the store. So this is the place that good for nothing woman would go to? Hmm, it has appeal and he can see why his subject enjoyed it. Anything to put his plan into motion and keep it within his reach.

“Here you are, and may I get your name?”

Upon receiving the book, he exchanges the money and politely bows. “Chisaki Kai.

“And Eri says hello.”

********************************

The drive to the airport was filled with content silence, as (Y/n) leans her head onto Aizawa’s in the car they shared. It was early in the morning so the pro-hero was already adjusted to being up at this hour, however his girlfriend wasn’t. He had debated about escorting her to the airport, Nezu’s words still in his head two weeks later, but figured she’d be happier and more at ease having him see her off. It’s not everyday someone he knows and loves gets invited to talk about something they’re very passionate about.

He’s overly ecstatic about it and is upset he can’t be there for her. But he knows that he’ll do his best to stream her talk when it’s available.

This is what he loves, this equal give and take they have for their relationship. He’s met some of her friends and family, albeit on a tight schedule, and vice versa; minus the pro-heroes. They both have a strong respect for what they do and when they do it. Even though this will be the most time they’ll have together, he’s glad he can see her sleep so peacefully on his shoulder. A content grin adorns his face as he does another thing out of character and snaps a picture of her.

Damn, he really is in love with her. Once he sees the airport in sight, he softly nudges her, “Hey, princess. We’re almost there.”

“Unngg, no…”

Aizawa chuckles at her whining and lightly kisses her forehead. “I wanted a couple extra minutes of you awake before you get out and-“

“Sh, sh,” she interrupts. “You act like I don’t get it,” her words are slurred from being too tired. “You do a lot for me, love. We gotta be safe I understand; gossip is so bad.”

He loves how extra snuggly she is when she’s too tired to function. “You know I’d walk you to the gate if I could,” his voice rumbles huskily that ends up making her mewl.

“I hate when you talk like that.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll be sure to call you tonight and talk just like this.”

“Oh sure! Just forget that I’m in the car! Now hurry up your students have a big day coming up!”

The couple giggles at Hizashi’s words, despite their truth. His friend rolls his eyes as he sees where they parked. It’s a bit of a walk to the airport but this gives them privacy from any prying eyes, especially of the villain nature. The two of them step out of the car and gather her overnight luggage from the trunk.

“I’ll only be gone for the night, I’ll be back tomorrow evening.” She leans up to kiss him.

“I know,” he kisses her back, “I just wanted you to finally meet my students and see them in action.”

Her eyes widen at his words, and so did some golden ones at that. “You..? What?”

“Heh, I figured it was way past time I let you into more of my world. I know I’m not the most open person, but I want to keep you safe and where else to do that than at U.A. with other heroes? They’re going to be working on rescues, and since you’ve shared so much of yourself with me, well it’s about time.”

Tears threatened to spill in his girlfriend’s eyes at his words. “Are you sure? I understand we kept our relationship a secret for our safety but, are you sure? I’m content knowing only your family and Yamada and- mmph!”

He silences her with a kiss and chuckles into it. “It’s dangerous yes, but you’re worth it.”

*******************************

The flight back wasn’t as enjoyable as the tired woman had predicted. Since her presentation went well, she was on a high until midway through her flight. Poor (Y/n) got stuck in the middle seat surrounded by the most unbearable people on the planet. She couldn’t wait to get back to Aizawa and just let him ravish her.

Once she had collected her luggage and turned on her phone, she tried to find the raven haired man and his loud blond friend. But after ten minutes of waiting and searching she came up empty handed. “What the hell,” she muttered to herself. She had no missed calls or texts from Shouta so what was up? He promised he’d pick her up but she’s been in the airport for almost an hour now and no such luck.

Getting frustrated she ended up hailing a random taxi and input her address. No matter, he could have had something come up at school which is entirely possible. She wasn’t going to let that get in her way of returning to the man she’s absolutely head over heels for. It might have been just one night away, but it felt like an eternity. Despite all her work, all his work, the world pretty much telling them no they found a way. Sure they had their fair sure of arguments but what couple didn’t? At the end of the day, they loved each other and that’s what was important.

She suddenly began to feel her phone buzz and pouts at the caller I.D. “Yamada, I have half a mind to come to your place and demand you drive me around for the hell of it! I thought you were supposed to pick me up!”

“(Y/n).”

The laugh that was in her throat retreated when she noticed his serious tone. This wasn’t like him. Damn, what happened?

“Hizashi, you’re scaring me,” her voice trembles, “where’s Shouta?”

She can hear him take a deep breath and his voice is not as boisterous as it typically is. “Answer me!” She’s clutching her phone as tears threaten to fall, “where is he?!”

“(Y/n), dear, I’m so sorry. There was an attack yesterday during the training, and he’s injured. Really badly.”

He’s met with silence on the other end and slowly continues. “He’s at the hospital. I’ll send you the address.”

With that he hung up. (Y/n) felt her jaw go slack. Her heart begins to pound faster than before as her breathing increases. The urge to vomit overwhelms her senses as the feeling in her stomach is one she’s never felt. Nothing makes sense. Why? Why didn’t he tell you immediately? Or why didn’t Present Mic tell you earlier? It’s almost 5 pm school ended hours ago, this makes no sense he would’ve told her, he would have he would have-

Her phone lights up with a text from the blond man Here’s the address. I did this for him. Please go to him.

The rest of the ride is a blur after she tells the driver to switch addresses. Her conference didn’t matter, her shitty flight didn’t matter, her new found knowledge didn’t matter… Shouta needed her and fuck why can’t this person drive faster!

She barely recollects paying her driver as she pulls up to the hospital. She runs in with her bags up to the front desk and politely yet frantically asks for her boyfriend. The nurse up front is apprehensive but relaxes upon seeing her stressed out face and Hizashi coming up to vouch for her. He glances into her eyes and gives her a hug in solidarity and apology. The pair of them pass by rooms, quickly going to the elevator to find Aizawa’a room. Along the way, she assumes she passes some of his students as the blond man pushes them out of the way.

Hizashi holds her luggage as she makes her way inside. In the room, she finally sees him and falls to her knees. Her presence is finally announced as an older nurse and a frail looking man turn to her. His face is completely covered in bandages and his arm is clearly broken. It takes everything in her to not wail at the sight.

“Who is it?”

The voice is soft and muffled but she’s able to make out who said it. The elderly looking nurse comes to his side and removes some of the bandages on his face in order for his eyes to be revealed.

It had been a few hours since he had been able to see, but what he was greeted with confirmed his newfound resolve. The sight of his girlfriend’s face covered in tears for him was almost too much.

“Sh-Shouta, why? What happened?”

“Why are you here?”

That sentence alone stunned everyone in the room, including Hizashi who had just walked in.

“What are you talking about? You got attacked! Why else would I be here?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he coughs out. “This isn’t a place for you.”

Confusion crosses her features at his words. “I don’t? I don’t understand, I thought you wanted me to be part of your life.”

“Present Mic told you I was here didn’t he? I told him not to.” He sighs and tries to lay back down. “Recovery Girl, could you cover me back up?”

“Whoa, whoa wait! I come back from a conference and I find out that you are severely injured and you don’t want me here?! What the hell happened to everything we spoke about literally yesterday? Why didn’t you tell me, or at least have him tell me you were okay or something!

“You’ve been like this for a whole fucking day and if I’m correct, you weren’t planning on telling me?”

He lowers his voice from the yelling and mutters loud enough for her to hear, “this is why pro-heroes don’t date.”

Gasps were heard around the room and Present Mic is most surprised, “Eraserhead come on,” he breathes. “Don’t do this, man. And you need to take a break! You can’t just go back to work like everything is fine!”

“He’s what!?”

Aizawa puts up his in broken hand to silence them, “no she needs to hear this.” He points to the now confused and angry woman in front of him. “You don’t understand that this is my life and I will get hurt.”

(Y/n) shakes her head, “I know that! But you need to rest, I’ve missed you and I’m sure your students would understand. You saved them!”

He interrupts, “I can’t stop being a hero and a teacher because of some injuries. My kids need me.”

“I need you too.”

“But you’re not putting your life on the line every day are you? You just sell books and make drinks, how is that helping people?”

Her heart sank at those words. How could he say something like that? She can slowly but surely feel her heart be torn and repaired by thorny weeds holding it together. She can’t even look at him, knowing that he was aiming to hurt her intentionally with those words. Those words were why she does what she does and he just mocked her. After all this time, it seems his true colors were finally showing. This is why he never let her in, because he’s a coward. A coward too afraid to let anyone come close. It’s a miracle to her now that he has friends.

The silence is deafening after his last questions as all eyes on are on her. (Y/n) straightens her posture and begins to head out of the room. She stops briefly to whip out her keychain. She removes the key to his apartment, struggling to get it off and finally throws it on the ground, the clanking of the metal against the tiles louder than anyone thought. And through her gritted teeth she spat,

“Fuck you Aizawa.”

She grabs her luggage from an unusually quiet Hizashi and storms out, tears cascading down her face.

Once she was out of earshot, Mic turns to his friend and takes a deep breath. “What the hell was that!? That wasn’t what we practiced!”

He’s greeted by silence from his injured and heartbroken friend. Aizawa knew what he was supposed to say, but the attack on his students left him feeling some kind of way. Even though the villains were after All Might, they attacked his students and he couldn’t have that. He told no one of that trip and feared that someone may have overheard him talking to her at the airport. He knew these villains were ruthless and as he said, he would do anything to protect her at all costs.

Aizawa sighs, the weight of his words and actions falling onto him. “It was the right thing. These villains are crazy, attacking students and teachers in broad daylight. Who knows what else they know about us? I can’t get her involved in that.”

The blond shakes his head in disappointment. “No you don’t get it. (Y/n) loves you and would do anything for you. I understand you want to keep her safe but breaking her heart like that…”

Aizawa knows this too well as he speaks to his friend again. “It’s better if she’s not in my life. I don’t want her connected to this and you know she’d throw herself into this to support and be there for me. I can’t have my students and my girlfriend with targets on their backs.

“What kind of hero would I be if I can’t save the ones I care for?”

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

taglist!: @kiribaku-queen @cupcake-rogue @shinsouskitten @prk-pyo @therealwalmartjesus 

[anastasiabeaverhousen87]

Make Wise Choices:  Part 7 Cuore  Mio

The next couple of days were rough on you, filled with cold meds, soups, lots of chamomile tea  and water and you felt like your teeth were about to swim out of your mouth, but according to Alex you needed to be hydrated and tea was good for colds.

A few days after Alex had to go back to the DEO, she was needed but Kara was able to stay with you as Supergirl wasn’t required to be there, not at the moment anyways. So that’s how you found yourself at Thursday afternoon Infront of the TV with Kara next to you in the couch watching some musical. Well, Kara was watching the musical, you were engrossed on your cellphone texting away with a very goofy smile on your face.

Kara: “Is that the hot doctor your texting…again?” –

Y/N: “well, if you really must know. Yes, I’m texting Cassie”

Kara: “Cassie huh? So now you’re on nickname bases I see”

y/n: “I heard Lena called her that and I liked it, also I think Cassandra is a beautiful name, but a mouthful. And calling her hot doctor sounded a bit rude, at least for the time being”- you give a naughty smile.

Kara laughs at that and mutes the tv “You really like her, don’t you?”

y/n: “I do, I mean I feel things when I speak with her and when I’m near her. And Oh my God she is sooo beautiful. You’re not mad, aren’t you?”

Kara: “Sweet girl I could never be mad about you liking someone. Besides she really is hot. But honestly it would be kind of hypocrite from me to not approve you liking her. She is also someone very dear to Lena so that makes her even more special. So no, I’m not mad, I’m actually happy for you, you never really showed any interested in anyone like you seem to be with her. Just be careful and don’t feel pressured into something you don’t really want”

y/n: “I know, I mean I’ve dated but there was no spark, nothing there. I did fool around a little but never really liked someone to go all the way. If you know what I mean?” – you blush pink at this.

Kara: “I figured as much. You’re a lot like Alex in that aspect, you concentrate too much in your grades and other things, work. But you never really sounded super doped on anyone you dated, when mom and Alex gave you the sex talk you were almost sick thinking about it, that was funny to watch” – You throw a pillow at your sister face “Hey!!!, don’t attack me little bean. And then when you asked about sex with women you sounded more interested but still, I can tell you weren’t ready. The question is, do you feel like you are ready now?”

y/n: “I feel like I am. Truly I’ve only known her for a little while, and I know is soon. But I really like getting to know her and to spend time with her. She is amazing and so caring. I can feel getting serious with her you know. Like I can trust her, and I can share that level of intimacy. It’s weird because is so soon, but I just know it feel right. Do you think is too soon?”

Kara: “If you feel like you can open up to her, if she makes you feel safe enough, why not? you are very good at judging people’s character and I trust your judgement. I’m not gonna lie though, Cassandra being Lena’s friend and all I’ve heard from her she does sounds like a great person and I know Lena also doesn’t trust easily. So yes, that a great bonus and makes me feel more comfortable of you dating her. But I do trust you baby, you’ll know when you feel ready and what to share with her. Also, I know you won’t be able to hide who I am from her that much longer if things do get serious. When you feel ready to tell her I will support you, okay? Oh and if she ever treats you wrong I will throw her into the sun”. - she winks at you.

y/n: “Thank you Kara, that means a lot to me” – you hug your sister and you kiss her cheek while your cellphone sounds with an incoming text, you look down at your phone- “She wants to come over…” you give a small smile

Kara: “well, tell her yes. Go change into something more appropriate at least nicer pajamas. and if she does happen to make you diner again, I wouldn’t be opposed to her amazing pasta. Man, I’m so jealous of you, she cooks like a pro and if I wasn’t dating Lena or you being my sister I would totally charm my way to her, her cooking skills are so amazing. Now don’t get jealous little bean, I’m good with her being my sister in law, she still needs to get point and be on my good side. Just tell her food is the way to my heart” – you sister laughs while walking to the kitchen. “Go get change and tell your girlfriend to come over”

y/n: “You and your stomach. Crazy alien food crazed woman. And sister-in law, seriously? Let me date her first, jeez!” – you mumble while walking into your room.

You hear someone at the door, and you know is the blonde doctor, and you don’t even try to rush to the living room well aware that your bubbly sister will open the door and let her come in.

Kara: “Hello Cassandra, come on in please, y/n will be here in a moment. Y/N!!! you hot date is here!”

Dr. Sharpe: “You’ve been waiting a while to do that don’t you?” – the doctor greets the other blonde and kisses her cheeks hello.

Kara: “You have nooo idea for how long. She used to say things like that or worse when I first began to date Lena, even at the very beginning of our friendship. I’ve been waiting patiently for the time for payback! Ha…” Kara rubs her hands like a Disney villain but she honestly looks quite like the adorable golden retriever she really is.

y/n: ““Really Kara? You couldn’t wait a little longer?”- you shake your head amused and then walk to where the blonde doctor is standing, and she quickly kisses your cheeks and gives you a warm hug.

Dr. Sharpe: “Ciao Bella ragazza”-  

You blush at the words spoken by the blonde doctor

Y/n: “hello to you too gorgeous”

Kara: “Oh you guys are so cute, I can’t even…”- Your sister speaks and walks into the living room

  The three women spend the afternoon talking and the doctor even offered to make diner, much to your sister delight and happy squeal. Lena was on her way over and you got to know more of the blue- eyed doctor and you could see why Lena loves and admires Cassandra so much. She is an amazing kind and dedicated woman. You learnt that not only did the good doctor was a certificated periodontist, she had received a Master’s Degree in Oral Biology  and while in graduate school she also received the Balint Orban Award, which apparently is the highest level of certification in the field of periodontist. And that the reason Lena and the blonde woman couldn’t see each other so often was because Cassandra gives lectures all over the world on a wide range of topics including dental implants, gum grafting, cosmetic periodontal surgery, and bone regeneration. She is also the founder and program director of a dental study club whose purpose is to positively impact the quality of dental care by hosting the highest quality international speakers in the field of dentistry to speak to local dentists in different cities in the US. And in addition to that she also made multiple mission trips to countries in Latin America like Mexico, Guatemala, Venezuela among others where she has been able to utilize her skills to help the neediest of people.

To say you were amazed by the woman was an understatement, she was funny, beautiful and crazy smart. But behind all those accomplishments you could see a sadness withing her. And you felt the need to change that, to make her smile and a pull to her that you couldn’t quite understand. But you were pulled out from your thoughts when Lena spoke.

 Lena: “Sorry to cut my time short but I just got a text and I’m needed for a consult” – Lena discreetly elbowing Kara to see the text on her phone. Both her and Supergirl were needed at the DEO, so they needed to leave.

Kara: “Oh shoot, ok well let me drive you then”

And of course you couldn’t be cool about it and spoke before you could understand why they needed to leave “Kara you don’t even own a car and Lena has her own driver”- you look at your sister like she just said the stupidest thing ever. Until you recognize their looks and realized they both were needed for something important, DEO important. You curse yourself.

y/n: “Buuuut I mean I totally get it, you should go with her, you haven’t been able to spend time just the two of you because you’re been busy taking care of me. Soooo why don’t you guys leave. I´ll be okay on my own. “

Kara: “Yeah I don’t think so little one, you always forget to take your meds and…”

Lena: “If you don’t mind Cassie, can you stay for a little while with y/n ?” – Lena interrupts her girlfriend ramblings.

y/n: “Hey Lena, I thought you were on my side. I can totally take care of myself” – you pout at her

Dr. Sharpe: “I can stay, I don’t mind at all. I like spending time with you y/n”

y/n: “Yeah me too, I just find itoffensive my sister and Lena don’t think I could spend a few hours on my own. But sure stay we can watch a movie or something”

Kara: “Ha, yeah. Like last night you were so tired you fell asleep on the bathtub and knocked the shampoo inside the water and you made a huge mess with shampoo foam or you know when trying to make a chocolate shake with the blender and forgot to remove the metal spoon and you almost cut you hand when the blender broke to pieces, yeah totally you can handle yourself. Klutz!”

You gasp and look offended: “How dare you!!! Says the woman that burnt the brownies and set the microwave and toaster on fire !!! - you just childishly stuck your tongue out and pouted: “Well you make it sound like I’m the worse, thank you Kara”

Lena and the blonde doctor laugh at the antics and pouting face you make at your sister.

Lena: “I knew it was you the responsible for the toaster, Kara. That one was new”

Kara: “No, you are not the worse, but when you feel tire or sick you tend to make messes and I don’t want you alone, you haven’t completely got rid of your cold and you still under some strong meds. We just worry, you know we love you so much. And honey it was an accident I did got a new one though”

y/n: “Fine leave us now, bring back home some chocolate if you can pleaseeeee?”

Kara: “Totally my little klutz” -your sister engulfs you in a big hug and gives you a kiss to your head.  “let’s go Lena and…” – looking back at you and the blonde doctor “behave yourselves and don’t do anything I wouldn’t” – You hug ger back just as strong and let go of her.

Lena: “Come on sweetheart and leave them be”- Just rolls her eyes and walks away with the blonde superhero next to her. The door closes.

You just exhale and keep looking at the door and then your turn around to face the blonde doctor.  You are both now sitting at the couch and the blue-eyed woman is looking at you with a sweet and soft smile.

You scrunch up your nose adorably: “What?”

Dr. Sharpe: “Nothing, I just like the way you are with your sisters. You care very much and they as well. That’s nice, it reminds me of the way I used to be with my nonna and my brother” – the blonde woman face goes from fond to a little sad.

y/n: “are they in Italy?”

Her face is just so sad, and you can see a hint of tears in her eyes, and it makes your heart aches.

Dr. Sharpe: “No, they died” -you try to apologize but the blonde doctor sees that and stops you “Don’t, you didn’t know, you couldn’t. and it was a very long time ago. My nonna basically rise me and my brother. She died when I was 25 and my brother, he was my best friend. He …he uhm he was a Navy SEAL, he died in a terrorism-related mission three years ago.” – the blonde doctor just stares down at her hands trying to gain control over her emotions.

You just wanted to make her stop hurting so you did the only thing you knew you were an expert at. Hugging and cuddling people. So, you just hug her firm and strong you cling to her and try to convey through physical connection instead of words, that you are sorry, and you want to make the pain go away or at least lessen the burnt. You stay like that hugging each other and basking in the feel of each other arms.

Dr. Sharpe: “Okay, well you truly are an amazing hugger sweetheart, thank you”- the blonde woman kisses your cheek and near your mouth but not quite there. So, you take things into your own hands and sit up, throw a leg over the blonde doctor waist so you can straddle her. You put your arms around her neck and stare directly into those beautiful eyes, you really love those eyes. They are mesmerizing.

y/n: “God I really love your eyes, is like seeing the color of the sky when there’s a summer storm”.

the blonde doctor was completely still, mouth barely open and a little smirk on the corner of her mouth as she looks up to you amused loving eyes.

You took the opportunity to movie in and crush your lips against the blonde woman, who was more than happy to reciprocate. You initiated the kiss trying to control the kiss, hungrily kissing her lips, however the honey blonde had other plans, she bit down ever so slightly your bottom lip but soon you were surprised by strong arms shifting. The blonde grab ahold of your ass  and stood up with you in her arms and holding you tight against her waist  and twisted her body so you hold on just as tight and you felt yourself being lowered on the couch. The blonde had a hand behind you head, holding you were laid down flat on your back and she was hovering above you and broke the kiss but kept looking directly into your eyes.

You were just as turn on as the blonde doctor, she was looking down at you with such hunger in her eyes, and she was panting.

Dr. Sharpe: “Calm down little one” – the blonde woman lowered her face next to your ear and kissed the side of your neck – “if you keep pushing me, I won’t be able to stop”

y/n: “Well I don’t want you stop” – you tried to gain some sort of friction from the tight nestles between your legs.

Dr. Sharpe: “no?”- the blonde doctor keeps kissing your neck and jaw and you shiver in delight. You never felt this aroused by someone before. But the blonde just kissed you sweetly, you tried to hug her to bring her down on you, but the blonde kept it sweet and gentle, not really letting you get any traction in the kiss. Like an innocent sweet kiss.

You felt yourself being sat up by strong and gentle arms. She pulled you into her your legs intertwined, and she positioned you to lay on her your head being cradled in the crook of her neck and you felt another kiss this time to your temple. The blonde woman kept making soothing circles on your back with her free hand, rubbing your arm and face. You wrapped yourself even further into her.

You love cuddles and hugs, you did it all the time with your sisters and some friend, specially Lena. But this felt so different, probably the most intimate thing you ever done with anyone. You didn’t put up any fight, you felt so cozy and happy in her arms.

Dr. Sharpe: “shh cuore mio, I know you want this. But I want to take you on a proper date first I want to do this the right way, you deserve better and not rushing it in the heat of the moment” – she spoke so softly to you, that you just melted.

You kept basking in the tender touches and soft skin- “ I like it when you call me Italian pet names”

The blonde woman just smiled and kept the soothing touches.  You nuzzled you face into her neck finding that smell that was just hers, Cassandra’s and her warmth. You felt completely at peace and you felt yourself falling asleep in the most comfortable embrace. The blonde doctor kept looking at you and touching softly your back and arms, until herself felt the pull of sleep and the both were completely asleep in each other’s arms.

  Note: Well this happened, I hope you like it. 

Until next time...

[flairmagazineblog]

7 Empowering Movies to Celebrate Women

It seems quite appropriate that we should give a shout-out to our favorite women-focused films for the inspiring month. Movies that are beyond the boundaries of pleasure; movies that motivate, ignite, and ultimately leave you feeling fortunate to be a female. Mentioned beneath, you’ll find a great selection of movies portraying the sort of outstanding, ceiling-smashing ladies that we’d like to imitate in today’s world. And since March is a period to commemorate the contributions of women over the years who’s influenced the world, there are indeed a variety of movies viewers can stream that showcase exceptional events in human history that portray women’s accomplishments or show the stereotypical female protagonist as a superhero who is strong, independent and dominant in her way. 

Little Women

Starring a star-studded ensemble by Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, and Timothée Chalamet, Greta Gerwig’s screen adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s iconic classic Little Women has proved to be exciting and groundbreaking. The story tracks four teenage girls—Jo, Amy, Meg, Beth—living in Massachusetts in the 1860s, during the Civil War. Greta Gerwig’s wondrous translation breaks through the narrative’s morality exterior to exploit the concepts underneath: xenophobia, imagination, liberation, and autonomy. Without losing any of the novel’s era elegance or sincerity, she introduces a futuristic atmosphere that will cater to the dedicated supporters of the tale and its conspiracy theorists alike. 

The Help

It was the 1960s, and Skeeter, portrayed by Emma Stone, recalled from university to her hometown, dreaming of becoming a novelist. Her initial task, huh? Interview with the women of color of the region who had spent their lives providing for the children of local white families. An eye-opening tale with a heartening center, this film reveals the empowerment of women who stay dignified against inequalities. As human rights advocates are battling on a global scale, Jackson’s white ladies are launching a movement to have every house fitted with a specific “the help” toilet. Driven by the lifeless Hilly (by Bryce Dallas Howard), the ladies are starting to gather their courage to demote the assistance to the shacks where it belongs. 

Mona Lisa Smile

Established throughout the ’50s, Katherine Watson (Julia Roberts) is a lecturer of history of art at Wesleyan University, a prominent all-girls institution. As she returns, she starts to understand those female students believe their entire objective in life would be to get married and then become a wife and mother regardless of their actual degree of intellect and qualifications. Watson rejects all of this mentality and seeks to show girls that they should do much more than raising a family and take care of the household. They could do both if they want to, and they can also seek a new path, like having a successful career, if they choose to. It’s a heartwarming tale about ladies battling sexism in school, the workplace, and their roles in society for whatever is achievable.

Coco Before Chanel

Calling all design maniacs, here is one for you. The movie revolves around one of the most famous and inspiring women throughout contemporary fashion history—Chanel—who works as a dressmaker and burlesque performer, leading a lifestyle she’s not made for before becoming the glamorous English businessman lover and fashion advisor, Arthur Capel. Besides being an exquisite, emotional romantic movie, this piece also shows Chanel’s amazing persistent essence and charisma. 

Hidden Figures

As NASA’s male brains were busy working competing with Russia to put a rocket man in orbit ahead of their Soviet foe, there have been three smart African-American women compiling data and then doing the calculations that would eventually get him through. The names were Katherine G. Johnson (Taraji P. Henson), Dorothy Vaughan (Octavia Spencer), and Mary Jackson (Janelle Monáe). These ladies are battling racial discrimination and patriarchy at work and may end up leaving you wondering if you feel like making your impact on the planet. 

Erin Brockovich

The single mum of three kids, Erin Brockovich (Julia Roberts), is trapped in a serious crisis after losing a civil litigation lawsuit. Without an option, the impoverished Brockovich recruited as a legal assistant to her attorney to preserve her life, but she did not live up to everyone else’s standards at work due to her improper clothes and stiff etiquette. The wise woman then creates a desire to advocate for accountability and plays a crucial part in getting a California utility corporation to an anti-pollution case.

Legally Blonde

Elle Woods’ (Reese Witherspoon) fantasy of being Mrs. Warner Huntington III goes wrong once Warner informs her, she’s “way too blond.” What started as an attempt to get the old life back, guides Elle to Harvard, and surpasses all hopes. This film might sound like a dizzy watch, but underneath the frat of pink and chihuahua costumes, we are seeing a woman rejecting stereotyping and battling sexism in style.

7 Empowering Movies to Celebrate Women was originally published on FLAIR MAGAZINE

[ashamefullife]

ash-blond & peacock-blue

On such a pleasantly mild summer evening, surrounded by chirping birds, Albedo sometimes forgot what time it was, forgot to look at his pocket watch, and forgot to ride back to town in time. His old bicycle, slightly rusted in some places, was leaning against an apple tree. He himself dangled his legs half over the rock he had climbed and sat on. From there was truly a fantastic view over Mondstadt, though the spot was a bit too far away to see more than blurry outlines of the city walls and houses.

Albedo exhaled loudly and ran his hand through his loose ash-blond hair. The sun was slowly tilting towards the horizon, which meant that the sky had already changed by several shades and levels of blue. Normally, Albedo would take the opportunity to capture this chart of honey yellow, mandarin, fire red, turquoise and lilac on a canvas. He would crawl over to his backpack and search for matching colors, mixing them if necessary, probably almost missing the sunrise in his search. The painting would still look passable, not that he praised himself for it, but the people in town would have liked it for sure. It was always like that. Still, the young artist couldn’t be satisfied with his talent. Today Albedo didn’t pick up a brush, today there would be no painting to show Klee and the other children in the neighborhood. That was unusual for him.

But usually, Albedo's mind wasn’t on certain person either. He would’ve never imagined that it would throw him off track like this - especially now, at a time when he was so busy trying to hold his life together by any means necessary. A nervous breakdown, he thought and then a soft but panicky laugh escaped his mouth. While his fingers were still caught in the middle of his hair strands, he dropped his back onto the warm rock. Although Albedo couldn’t see the sunset anymore, his thoughts felt lighter and his eyes relaxed after staring into sunlight for so long. To lie here, somewhere surrounded by trees, by nature, by fresh air - gave him the feeling of being alive, of an emotion, even if he did not always feel. Even in moments of inner numbness and dullness.

People, on the other hand, gave him the feeling of being a burden, the feeling of having to be active and productive non-stop. It was important to be someone, to be useful for others. To function right. A human machine until the point one could no longer be or no longer wanted to be human. Albedo had already learned that before he came to Mondstadt and he had never questioned it. He liked to learn and work, he liked to be diligent and he knew a lot from an early age on. Others would describe him as inquisitive and curious, but also as a loner and rather quiet type.

But since he knew Kaeya, Albedo began to question things. All philosophical thoughts he had discussed with Sucrose, a girl who sat next to him in some university courses, never seemed to connect with himself - whether he was blind, whether he just didn't want to see it. He didn’t know.

Since he knew Kaeya, he noticed. He realized how naive he had been, how much energy he had lost in the past, how many things he didn't know, even though he loved to learn and was inquisitive and curious. All these details made sense and they were true, not because Albedo wasn't trying, but because he was trying in the wrong corners or trying too hard. He finally understood that it was okay not to have to please everyone.

Nevertheless, the young artist hated this truth, a reality he would like to avert. And he hated that it was Kaeya who gave him the words, the sense, the feeling of meaning, of emotion.

At best he wanted to tell himself that he hated all of this, but it was surprisingly hard. Because every time Kaeya wore his long peacock-blue hair open and took individual strands in his hand, he looked over to Albedo. Followed by stroking some hair out of his face, slowly, practically in slow motion, and every time he did so, this guy grinned. A small dimple formed in his left cheek, nearly invisible, not for an artist, and a skin incredibly delicate and smooth, darker than of the other Mondstadt citizens. The sky-blue eye on the ash-blond young man, no matter where or when, queer through the lecture hall, around the foyer, in the library. As if Kaeya knew what Albedo was thinking. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to immortalize the peacock-blue hair and the owner of it on paper.

Albedo hardly noticed how it was getting gloomy around him, the sun had passed the horizon by 3/4 and the first fireflies were buzzing around in the air. Warmed up by the sun shining during the day, the rock beneath him still radiated pleasant warmth and he slowly turned on his side and pressed his cheek against the stone. The touch felt not unlike a hand. How lonely. How beautiful.

Clearly, he imagined Kaeya's hand, he imagined Kaeya lying next to him. On this lukewarm summer evening when it was not worth being productive or depressed. On which Albedo could have painted a sunset but had changed his mind - because the words in his head that had formed into Kaeya-poetry were louder than the inspiration for art. All the rumors Albedo had heard about the Casanova, the macho, the loudmouth, the egotist. All the women who wanted to bring Kaeya a coffee in the morning, get in his way, while he was almost late for his first class. All his jokes, sarcastic replies, his permanent laughter, and grin - how he knew what he was doing to please. Albedo thought he would loathe Kaeya, but when the ash-blond realized, when he absorbed and understood.

Internalized.

The fascination was overwhelming, the interest awakened in him confusing.

All the terms he usually used in chemistry and physics seemed too scientific. A pure theory. Because what did it mean, what was that chemical love formula, it was one with which you couldn't explain it. Red cheeks and butterflies in bellies have nothing in coming with letters and hexagons.

No matter how hard Albedo tried to remember their first conversation or how words eventually turned into sentences, he couldn't recall it. A whole semester long, the two did attend a few classes together, knew each other's names, and probably had a handful of mutual acquaintances - but didn’t talk. Nothing unusual at a rather large university for two students whose majors took different directions. Still, there must have been a moment, something that had shifted Albedo's attention for a second. It seemed to the blond as if his life would hang on this memory. He wanted to know, he longed for this moment. Albedo needed to understand when the first time had been, when he had looked over at Kaeya and felt him no longer as a student among all the other students, but as a man out of a painting. Too beautiful, too bright to look at with the naked eyes.

What he could remember was that Aether, one of their mutual acquaintances, had mentioned how Kaeya liked to drink Death After Noon, a particularly strong wine, and of the fact that shortly afterwards, Albedo had walked into a campus pub and poured himself a glass of it. The ash-blonde had wanted to know what was so special about it, wanted to know what Kaeya might have experienced on his tongue and taste buds. The wine was fine, Albedo was not a connoisseur in the field anyway, in fact he felt rather confused about why he had been drinking alone.

He didn't want more wine, he wanted to know more about Kaeya.

Kaeya revealed little about himself and tried to keep himself and everything around him in check. He lived with his facade, which got him ahead in life, but seemed to suck him dry emotionally. Control was nice, Albedo knew that too, but not long-lasting and very fragile. The peacock-blue haired one was joking, laughing, and giving his best flirts. Everyone around him fell for his charm, wanted to be around him and hung on his lips. No doubt, this man was charming, but Albedo could see that he also had wounds, scratches, places where his facade tore huge holes and left damage.

There probably wasn't that one moment in which Albedo was aware.

At some point random words had spilled out of their mouths, perhaps they had exchanged trivial text answers or planned a project for a course together. Albedo thought about everything they had talked about in the past. What ideas and fantasies had left his mind to connect somewhere and not be lost in the darkness, such as in his head. There was so much he hadn't said because he didn't know how. Perhaps because of insecurity, fear - because he liked to go on as it was right now. Sometimes they would meet on campus after their last class and sit under a tree. No one talked, shared silence. Kaeya read a few pages in his book and Albedo sketched a rose or a cecilia. It was as if they had agreed in advance, but most of the time it happened naturally and without them coordinating. Later in the evening, when they were both in their own homes, Kaeya would usually send passages that he had liked best from the pages he had read earlier. And then he would add a meme or a funny video, completely out of context, yet appropriate. Albedo had meanwhile completed the sketches, not always showing them to Kaeya, but the latter did not push him.

Some days Kaeya completely disappeared from the picture surface. Neither on campus nor in the chats, Albedo could reach him. Although he didn’t appear to be sick, he wasn’t present. These were the days the blond artist felt lonelier than usual. Funnily enough, he had been used to being alone in the past, a state that had never seemed particularly unpleasant to him. These Days, however, something was missing, a part that slipped into his circulation like serotonin and gave energy for everything necessary.

Yes, Albedo wanted to tell himself that he hated that it was Kaeya who gave him the words, the sense, the feeling of meaning, of emotion. That he hated how much he enjoyed Kaeya's attention, his glances, every conversation he was allowed to have with him. He was unhappily and happily attracted to him. Albedo was afraid that it would eventually hurt him and that he would not be able to bear the pain caused.

But it was so incredibly difficult not to long for Kaeya.

The ash-blonde opened his eyes and stared straight up to the sky, simply to find out that it had become pitch dark. Stars offered him the only source of light, even the fireflies were gone. His cheeks felt wet, the hand numb under the weight of his head and the rock under his body had cooled noticeably.

It was not easy to resist someone like Kaeya. And maybe Albedo didn't want to either.

[pers-books]

For the tropes mash-up can I request 41 and 95, please?! I need something soft and fluffy and unbearably sweet!!

Well Anon, this is not the first response I wrote for your prompts because Tumblr is a fucking asshole and ate it after 4 hours of writing. *sighs* Here, therefore, is my second attempt at a response.

Aw, Anon, of course! Soft and fluffy and unbearably sweet (or as close as I can make it) you shall have with 41. First Kiss and 95. Sleep Intimacy. Going canon divergent because their canon first kiss was very fraught and that doesn’t lend itself to soft, fluffy, and unbearably sweet!

As first kisses go, it is undoubtedly the sweetest that Serena Campbell’s ever experienced. As a first kiss for the first time with a woman the sweetness is compounded by a thrill of excitement that is quite separate from the usual thrill that she experiences on kissing a man for the first time. 

Bernie, that is, Major Berenice Wolfe, trauma surgeon extraordinaire and formerly of the RAMC, is in Holby to present a series of papers and training sessions to any and all hospital staff, whether from NHS Trust hospitals like Holby City General (where Serena is deputy CEO and clinical lead of AAU) or St James’ (the private hospital where the Major’s ex-husband works as an orthopaedic surgeon) who wish to learn more about trauma medicine and whose CEOs can wrangle them the time and money to attend. Henrik Hanssen, CEO of Holby City and Serena’s boss, hadn’t hesitated to ask both Serena (as head of AAU) and Connie Beauchamp (as head of the ED) to draw up a list of staff whom they felt would most benefit from attending one or more sessions. Then they had to re-work their staffing rotas to allow as many people to attend as they could manage. 

Holby City, Hanssen let them understand, needed to do better with regard to the treatment and aftercare of trauma victims, and he had it in mind to get a proper trauma unit built at Holby with the expert assistance of the Major, if she was willing. On hearing this Serena couldn’t help wondering in just which department the new unit would be based and whether she’d have to fight Connie for it. Of course, once she’d been introduced to Major Wolfe, Serena had immediately felt absolutely determined that AAU would be the ward to host the trauma unit. The Major is fiercely intelligent, fiercely passionate about her work, and utterly gorgeous. The latter realisation had thrown Serena for a loop for a little while, but by the second day of her attendance, Serena had accepted the fact that, for the first time ever, she was seriously attracted to another woman. From the moment she laid eyes on the lithe, long legged woman with the messy blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and thin pink lips, Serena was done for, and it had taken a real effort on that first day to properly focus and concentrate on what Bernie was teaching them.

It’s at the end of the fourth and penultimate day that Serena finally gets up the nerve to invite the blonde surgeon for a drink and to her relief Bernie accepts with alacrity. They make their way from the conference centre where Bernie’s been lecturing to the bar of the hotel where Bernie’s staying and Serena orders herself a glass of her favourite tipple, Shiraz, and a whisky for Bernie.

They spend the first half hour talking shop while slowly lowering the level of alcohol in their glasses. The second half hour, with the appropriate refills, moves onto more personal conversation.

“Who was that potato-faced bloke I saw having a go at you yesterday after the morning session?”

The Major splutters, then presses the back of her right hand (which is still holding her glass) to her mouth. “Potato-faced?” she queries.

Serena arches an elegant eyebrow. “I stand by my description,” she says, and Bernie smirks at her, warmth and humour in her deep brown eyes.

“That was my ex. Marcus Dunn. Orthopaedic surgeon at St James’. Thinks he’s God’s gift to both St James’ and Orthopaedics. His colleagues, however, describe him as mediocre and one, more indiscreet than the rest, reckons Marcus’ll never make department head, no matter how many rounds of golf he plays with the CEO, or how many times he buys dinner for Max and his wife.”

“So why was he haranguing you?” asks Serena, full of curiosity about Bernie.

“Because Cam, my - our - son has decided to do his first F1 rotation in London, at the Royal Hope. Which is, coincidentally, where I did my first F1 rotation. Marcus despises NHS hospitals. He thinks the NHS should be privatised, American style.”

“Well you’d better keep him out of my way or I’ll box his ears for him,” Serena says heatedly, the alcohol making her pugnacious.

Bernie chuckles. “That I’d like to see,” she says, before adding, “Can we not talk about him?”

“Of course,” Serena says easily. “Tell me more about yourself.”

Bernie sets her empty glass on the table in front of them. “I think I’d rather not talk any more, if you don’t mind.” She takes Serena’s glass from her hand, then leans in and places her lips on Serena’s. It takes very little time for Serena to kiss back, and only moments for her to plunge her hand into the Major’s gloriously soft blonde hair that she’s been aching to touch all week.

Bernie cups her neck and the back of her head; those long, elegant fingers that Serena’s been watching intently for the last four days prove to be as strong and capable when it comes to holding a woman as they are in wielding a scalpel or a bone saw.

Serena melts into the plush banquette that’s behind her, feeling a throbbing warmth between her legs and a weakness in her knees. She cannot remember ever wanting anyone as much as she wants the Major in her sinfully tight black jeans and the black shirt with its sleeves shoved back to her elbows, enough buttons unfastened at the top to give Serena tantalising glimpses of deliciously prominent collarbones and the hollow of her throat.

Serena doesn’t come back to herself until Bernie’s hand lands on her knee, and then she’s jolted back to reality in painful fashion when her mobile phone begins to ring in her handbag. She gasps as Bernie pulls away, then cannot help licking her lips even as she fumbles her phone from the depths of her bag.

Bernie shifts, putting more distance between their bodies, and Serena reaches out to clasp her knee, squeezing it and mouthing ‘Wait. Please?’ at the blonde who, after a moment, nods.

The phone call is from her nephew Jason, to remind her that she’s meant to be picking up fish and chips for their dinner tonight. She assures him she hasn’t forgotten - a white lie since she had, in fact, forgotten the existing of everything outside of Bernie’s mouth on her own and her hands roaming Serena’s curves, as if mapping them for future reference.

She cuts the call with Jason, then looks at Bernie. “Are you leaving Holby straight after tomorrow’s final session?”

The blonde shakes her head. “Actually I’m staying the entire weekend. My kids, who’ve been estranged from me since Marcus and I began divorce proceedings, have agreed to a meet up on Sunday for afternoon tea.”

“In that case, would you like to come to dinner tomorrow? Jason is going to Allan’s for the long weekend, so I’ll be all on my own.” She bats her eyelashes as coquettishly as she knows how and Bernie laughs. It’s not a decorous laugh, by any means, reminding Serena all too strongly of a goose honking, but it’s a fitting laugh for this extraordinary woman.

“I’d love to have dinner with you,” Bernie says.

Serena grins, then licks her lips. “Would it be terribly forward of me to suggest you bring a toothbrush?”

“Serena Campbell, are you asking me to spend the weekend with you?”

“Well, um, yes, that is to say, only if you want to,” she says, stumbling uncharacteristically over the offer.

“I’d be delighted,” Bernie says. “I’ll let the hotel know I’ll be booking out tomorrow instead of Monday.”

Dinner the following evening is scarcely registered by either of the women eating it - they only have eyes and thoughts for each other and Serena swears that Bernie is devouring her with her eyes. The hungry heat of her gaze leaves Serena wet and wanting in a way she’s never been before, and it takes a real effort of concentration to load the dishwasher and set it going before Bernie pounces on her, her mouth and hands going to Serena’s mouth and waist with great eagerness. She soon finds a strong, muscular thigh pressing between her legs, and she greedily rocks herself against it, kissing and kissing and kissing Bernie until they’re both weak-kneed and desperate for air.

Then the trauma surgeon scoops her off her feet (eliciting a shriek of surprise) and Serena finds herself carried at speed down the hallway, then up the stairs. 

“Where am I going?” demands Bernie, and Serena directs her to her room. Bernie uses her feet to push the door open, rather than putting her down, then carries her across to the bed where she’s half lowered, half tossed.

When Bernie straightens up again Serena grabs her wrist and tugs, toppling the blonde across her lap.

“And now that I’ve got you where I want you,” she says. “I’m going to ravish you.”

��Oi,” Bernie says, her tone outraged. “If anyone’s going to be doing any ravishing around here, it’s me.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re the novice in this situation,” Bernie says with a shrug of feigned indifference.

“And you think I’m a pushover, is that it?”

“Well, I did just carry you from the kitchen to your bedroom.” Bernie’s eyes are dancing with mirth and Serena has to bite back a grin in response.

“Oh, so what, you’re a big macho army medic, now, are you?” 

“If you like.” Bernie rapidly unbuttons Serena’s silk blouse, peeling it from her body like a master chef peeling vegetables for an exquisite meal. Serena’s trousers are the next go, swiftly followed by her camisole top, leaving her in just her matching bra and knickers.

“Oh I say, ding dong,” Bernie says with a humorous leer in her voice. “I guess I am getting lucky tonight.”

She leans down and kisses Serena hard on the mouth, then begins trailing hot, wet kisses all the way down her body until the brunette is writhing beneath her.

~ ~ ~ ~

On Saturday morning Serena’s consciousness swims up from the depths of sleep with an insistence she’s quite unused to. Eventually she opens her eyes, registering as she does so that there’s an unfamiliar weight half pinning her body to her bed, and there’s a growing heat between her legs. It’s this latter that clarifies the former - Major Berenice Wolfe is here in her bed, her legs tangled with Serena’s, her breath puffing softly against the back of her neck, stirring the short hairs there.

Serena lets out a soft sigh at the realisation that dinner and its subsequent follow up were not a vivid dream after all, but the actual events of the previous evening. 

Bernie murmurs something indecipherable against the nape of her neck, then presses her lips to Serena’s skin, and the brunette practically melts into the bed. She is wholly unused to intimacy of any sort, particularly since Jason came into her life (not that she in any way blames him for Robbie’s ignorant attitudes towards her nephew), and the intimacy that comes from actually sleeping with someone (as opposed to engaging in sex with them) is something she’d somehow forgotten she particularly enjoys. Bernie’s right arm is under her body and wrapped around her waist, her hand resting on Serena’s left hip. Her left arm is higher up her torso and her hand is cupping Serena’s right breast. As soon as she becomes fully aware of that fact her nipple stiffens against the trauma surgeon’s broad palm.

The heat between her thighs intensifies and she shifts against Bernie’s right leg, which is between her own, while her left leg is propped over Serena’s left leg as they’re both lying on their right sides on Serena’s side of the bed. 

“Mmm?” murmurs Bernie, her lips pressing a little more insistently against Serena’s neck, before her nose shifts to bump against the back of Serena’s left ear. 

“Nothing,” Serena whispers. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmhmm.” Bernie’s right leg shifts again rather more purposefully this time.

Serena sighs softly. “Are you always this frisky first thing in the morning?” she asks.

Bernie chuckles quietly. “Only when I’ve got a gorgeous surgeon in my bed.”

“Technically, I’m the one with the gorgeous surgeon in her bed.”

Bernie chuckles again as her right palm rubs against Serena’s stiff nipple before her fingers curl around Serena’s breast. “Think I can make you come like this?” she whispers against Serena’s neck. “Just my hand on your breast and leg between yours.”

“Oh god.” Serena groans as she feels a surge of heat between her thighs, feels desire tighten and coil in her belly. “Yes,” she mutters. 

Twenty minutes later she’s melted into the bed again, and Bernie eases her down onto her back, shifting away while she does so, then moving back in closer once Serena’s settled. She leans down and gives Serena a soft, languorous kiss, then shifts so that she’s pressed against Serena’s side. Her right arm slides under Serena’s neck and her left arm wraps across her waist.

“We don’t have to get up just yet, do we?” Bernie asks, her voice reminiscent of liquid gold.

“Not just yet, no.”

“Good.” Bernie hums gently against her shoulder, then her muscles begin to slacken and relax. Within moments she’s fast asleep again, and Serena, who’s been quite delightfully worn out, closes her eyes and allows her body to succumb to sleep again. 

[Pick two (2) tropes for me to mash-up and explain how I’d write them (Berena only)]

[itsthemoofacewriting]

Is it okay if I close my eyes

This is a part two to ‘Is it okay if I take my time’ but you don’t have to read that first. This is shameless PWP and in no way affects the previous chapter. So, if you want to act like chapter 1 was the end, then you can, but, if you were disappointed it wrapped up too quickly at the good part, here it is.

Rating: M. Smut; pure, pure smut.  Can also be found on AO3 and FFN

We all have Futagi on AO3 to thank for this. Apparently, I didn’t need much encouragement to write this but if they hadn’t said anything, I probably would have left it how it was. So… this is for you (is it weird to essentially dedicate smut to someone? Oh well.)

So, without further ado,

*Chants* Lawn sex, lawn sex, lawn sex…

Enjoy!

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

The door clicked shut behind Nami and she was surrounded by silence. Even Carrot, who was asleep in Robin’s bed was unusually quiet- normally she fidgeted a lot in her sleep or murmured.

Whilst it was peaceful in her room, Nami was anything but. She was too keyed up, replaying her last kiss with Sanji on a loop. Her lips still tingled, and her pulse wouldn’t calm down. She was sure if she hadn’t pulled away before leaving, Sanji would be laying over her right now and they’d be engaging in activity not appropriate for the lawn deck. Her stomach knotted at the thought.

Damn it, there was no sleeping now. If she laid down that’s all she’d think about and knowing Sanji was still outside didn’t help in calming her down either.

Yes, she had told Sanji that he needed to work for her, but since when did that mean she had to suffer too? She wondered briefly if he even wanted to, what if he wanted to wait? A small part of her snorted in disbelieve at that thought, but Sanji was very chivalrous.

Well, she wouldn’t find out standing in her room.

Peering out of the window of her door, she could see him laying back down on the lawn again and rubbing his hands over his face. Nami smiled to herself, he looked frustrated and it sent a bit of pride shooting through her. At least he was suffering with her.

Not wanting to wait any longer, Nami quietly opened the door and made her way back down to the lawn. Not quietly enough though because as she padded down the stairs Sanji’s face turned to the side to look at her.

“Oh, Nami-san.” He looked surprised to see her. “Is everything okay?” He sat up to look at her approaching with concern.

She didn’t respond to him straight away, continuing to close the distance between them until she was kneeling in front of him. “Kiss me,” she breathily demanded.

Sanji’s eyebrows raised and he was slack jawed at her words. She briefly wondered if she’d broken him with her demand, but she could almost see the cogs working over her request in his brain and not a moment later, he was responding. His hands raised to cup either side of her face and bring her into a soft kiss. She ran her hands over the soft material of his hoody, up his arms to fist it at the shoulders and pull him in closer. His lips slowly moved over hers and as nice as it was, she wanted something a bit more than that right now.

When she returned his soft kiss with more pressure and slanted her mouth against his, he seemed to get the idea. He approved of her kiss as he hummed, moving his hands from her face to palm at the back of her thighs and encouraging her into his lap. She ran her hands through his hair to keep him closer and settled onto him. Smiling to herself, she could feel him half hard against her thigh.

“Bit excited before I came out?” Nami teased, pulling out of the kiss.

Sanji laughed lightly to cover his groan when her thigh brushed against him and flushed. “Ah, well, before… and now… you know.” He brushed his nose against hers.

With the best smoky look she could muster, she uttered back, “Let’s sort that out for you,” leaving him with a peck before grounding down on him and kissing along his jaw.

He couldn’t smother the groan this time and it came out loudly on the quiet lawn. His hands moved up from her thighs and smoothed over her behind.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to follow after you,” Sanji throatily said and he was rewarded with Nami licking over his Adams apple before lightly scraping her teeth and she felt him shudder. He was like putty in her hands and she loved it.

“Mhm, yeah, me too, but maybe not when poor Carrots in there. Not this nicest way to be woken up.”

Whatever Sanji was going to say was cut off as Nami ground down on him again and in its place, he let out a choked sound. His hands kept her hips pressed down against him and they both gasped this time at the sensation. Nami was in a bliss, she’d long forgotten his neck as she threw her head back and instead focused on Sanji’s hardening length rubbing against her in just the right way. She was only barely aware of him kissing along her collarbone but when he hit a particularly good spot, she was thrusting her chest into his face and that seemed to be the thing that tipped him over the edge.

She was looking back up at the stars again when he laid her on her back, she didn’t mourn the loss when Sanji hovered over her, his face blocking the view. He brought her into a desperate kiss, tongues playing with each other’s as he eased himself between her thighs and thrust against her. They both broke the kiss to gasp but instead of leaning back in for her lips, he started a trail along her jaw.

“Nami-san,” he crooned, gasping again when she rolled her hips, “You have no idea…” he said incoherently, now too focused on kissing a path down her neck.  

Somehow Nami seemed to understand what he was trying to say. “Mm, uhuh, yeah.”

His hand ran up her waist to cup at her breast, as his mouth met the very same destination and he pressed kisses along the edge of her tank top that prevented him from fully exploring. She felt goose bumps erupt on her arms when his tongue touched her skin and when she looked down, she could hardly believe the sight of his mop of blond hair between her breasts.

But she was growing tired of not having him actually touching them properly. He looked at her questioningly when she pushed him back, but an eager smile erupted when he saw her hands going to the bottom of her top to pull it over her head. His hands joined hers in peeling it away and he flung it behind them both.

Before he could eagerly settle back, Nami’s hands were squishing either side of his cheeks to force him to look at her face, even though his eyes tried to wander. “Wait. You won’t have a nosebleed, will you?” Nami asked. She did not need Chopper out here lecturing her. Or him ruining the mood, especially before they’d even done anything.

Sanji shook his head frantically, almost afraid she was going to deny him.

Satisfied with his response, she released his face and moaned out, “Then touch me, Sanji.”

It had the exact reaction she was going for. Instead of continuing his teasing kisses, he was pressing hot open-mouthed kisses on her breasts. She was gasping and writhing as his tongue flicked her nipple, her hands running through his hair to encourage him. She could feel a flush working through her body at the sensations and heat pooled between her legs. She frowned though when her hands ran down to his back and touched fabric on his back. She was half dressed and he was fully dressed? Absolutely not.

With the hands of a true thief, she silently worked her hands underneath his hoody whilst he was distracted and caressed the muscles of his stomach. He gasped around her nipple and pulled back when he felt her tugging it up.

When his hoody hit the floor, she used it as a chance to roll them, so she was on top. He had no complaints, his eyes still glued to her breasts and the way they swayed when she moved.

Nami’s eyes drunk in the view of Sanji’s upper body, it really was a shame he hid it underneath suits. Her hands smoothed across his chest and teasingly flicked his nipple with her fingers. She bit her lip when he moaned beneath her, it did funny things to her stomach hearing him like that. Giving one last tweak to his nipple, her hands caressed down his stomach, lingering around his eight pack, before continuing on and toying with the waistband of his bottoms.

Sanji eyes were hazy and Nami realised that with the new shift in their relationship, this was a look she never seen before. He was looking at her like a starved man, pure want across his face. But when her hand dipped beneath his trousers and touched his length, her time on top had ended.

Her back met his hoody when she was rolled back onto the grass and Sanji was pulling her up for a second so he could adjust his hoody for her to lay comfortably on. He captured her lips again but gasped when his fingers trailed down to gently run over her clothed lips, the small action had tingles of pleasure shooting through her stomach.

“Pants off. Now.” Nami demanded against Sanji’s lips and he nodded, pulling at her bottom lip before pulling away.

Nami was pulling at Sanji’s bottoms whilst his hands were shimmying hers past her hips. When they both pulled as far as they could, she was lifting her legs to pull her bottoms and underwear off whilst he stood to take his off. The clothing was flung somewhere neither of them cared to think about right now.

Sanji quickly settled back between her legs and she wound her legs around his waist, feet digging into his behind to bring his hips exactly where she wanted them. They both let out the loudest moans yet when his length rubbed against her wet folds and Nami rocked her hips against him to get him to do it again. They both panted as they started to find a rhythm and if she wasn’t careful, Nami was going to come like this. Based on Sanji’s panting, he was in the same position.

“Sanji, I need- mhm- you in me.” Even to her own ears she sounded desperate.

“Nami- hah- we, uh, don’t have a condom,” Sanji breathed out against her neck, not stopping the roll of his hips despite the potentially bad news.

“I’m on the pill.”

“Oh thank god.” Sanji quickly said, nibbling along her neck. “You sure you want this?”

Nami wondered for a second if he meant something other than them having sex, but she didn’t have the capacity to break that down right now. Instead, she settled on, “More than sure, I want you.”

It was the loudest moan Sanji had given thus far. “You’re the sexiest woman alive,” he said, pressing a feverish kiss against her lips and lining himself up against her.

When he started to slowly push into her, Sanji caught her face, holding her face so he could see her expression. There was something raw about it, watching pleasure play out on the others face and Nami felt her senses heightening the longer she looked into Sanji’s gaze. They both moaned when he was in her fully and she rolled her hips to get him to move.

It was all becoming a blur after that. Nami’s hands grasped at the grass, trying to anchor herself as Sanji thrust into her and her hips came up to meet him halfway. She couldn’t be sure if it was her, or him or both of them, but moans were tumbling out into the still night and as she shifted her hips slightly, she almost sobbed at the places he was reaching within her.

Considering it was early morning, it should be cold but Nami had never felt hotter. Sanji’s hands scorched along her body and pressed kisses wherever he could; on her collarbone, her shoulder, her neck, over her heart and it was all too much. Her hands ran along his back, over his chest, in his hair as she abandoned the grass and anchored herself to him instead.

“Nami,” Sanji moaned against her lips, lazily pressing a kiss there before continuing, “you feel so good.”

She almost didn’t recognise the moan that came from her, it was high pitched and filled with so much need. “Sanji, I- I…” She couldn’t finish her sentence but Sanji understood, grinding his hips into hers and she could feel heat spreading through her stomach. “I’m so close.”

“Me too.”

If it were possible, he picked up his speed and she desperately tried to keep up. But she couldn’t and she went tumbling over the edge, moans spilling from her mouth as stars erupted behind her eyes and heat flushed through her body. Through her blissed haze she could hear him panting and groaning, hips spasming as he followed after her.

Coming down from her high, she could feel a weight draped over her and lips being pressed lazily to the skin above her breasts. She felt a shot of pride go through her at the sated, relaxed look on Sanji’s face and she pressed her lips against his.

He rolled them, so she was on top and his hands leisurely traced up and down her body.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“More than okay,” she hummed, smiling up at him.

“That was…” He seemed lost for words.

She laughed lightly. “Yeah, I know.” She pushed against his chest to lift herself up and smiled down at him mischievously. “I think I need a repeat performance.”

A smile spread across his face and his hands now moved with more purpose. “Good, because I really want to taste you.”

She should feel embarrassed at his blunt words, but instead she could feel herself starting to get worked up again. She could only imagine, for the time being, just how skilled his hands were. Their brief post-sex peace was quickly coming to an end.

Whatever she was about to say was cut off as Sanji suddenly rolled over her protectively, pressing their bodies together and shielding her. Before Nami could question what was wrong, the boy’s room was suddenly thrown open and Luffy came charging out.

“Need to pee, need to pee, need to pee, need t-” His words cut off as the toilet door slammed behind him.

There was a stunned silence on the deck, as the two occupants lay naked with each other and stare after the toilet door.

Nami blinked, bewildered by the sudden turn of events. She turned to Sanji and he looked resigned. “Does he do that a lot?” She questioned.

“You have no idea, it used to wake me up all the time. He’s like a child and doesn’t want to get up, so he holds it until he’s desperate to go,” Sanji said, sitting up and bringing her with him so he could get the hoody underneath her that she was still laying on. He gave her one last appreciative look before holding out the hoody for her. “Here, put this on.”

She gave him a grateful smile, about to take it from him but he pulled it away.

“Arms up,” Sanji said, looking far too pleased with himself.

Nami laughed but held her arms up as Sanji helped her into it. “Better?” She questioned.

“When other people are around, yes,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Maybe you should put on my top and preserve your modesty too.” That was a sight Nami would love to see. Sanji in her pink frilly pyjama top. Maybe she could convince him…

As the bathroom door opened again, Sanji pulled away. Luffy started a much less frantic pace back to the boy’s room but stopped midway and turned towards them. “Great, you guys made up!”

Both of them on the lawn paused… Did he mean what they thought he meant?

Doubtful, although Nami was still impressed he’d picked up on the tension between the two of them prior to this. She shrugged, not really caring right now, and interrupted the rest of Luffy’s stroll. “Luffy, don’t go back to sleep, your watch is about to start!”

Luffy turned to look at them both. He didn’t say anything, but his critical gaze passed over Nami and then Sanji. Nami shuffled self-consciously, she knew how they both looked. Hell, Sanji didn’t even have a top on! But was Luffy really going to realise now?

“Okay.” Shrugging, he walked past them towards the crow’s nest. “But breakfast will be in a few hours, right?” He asked excitedly.

Sanji rolled his eyes and stood up from the lawn. “I’ll be starting it in a few hours.”

“Good enough, see you then!” And Luffy hurtled himself to the crow’s nest, ignoring the ladder.

Sanji sighed, no doubt imagining how obnoxious Luffy was going to be whilst he was preparing food, but there a still a ghost of a smile on his face.

Nami grabbed his hand and considering how early in the morning it still was, she showed no sign of fatigue. “So Sanji-kun, want to go to the aquarium?” She said lowly, winking at him.

Nothing more needed to be said as Sanji scooped her up and made a hasty retreat. He didn’t need telling twice. Nami’s giggles filled the silence on board until the door shut after them.

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

And that’s a wrap! A nice dose of smut for you all.

As always, please forgive any errors.

Thanks for reading.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Hot for Teacher (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Synopsis: Your history professor is too hot to handle. If only you could ignore him.

Words: 11k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

AN: So I saw this picture and my brain did a thing. Now y’all get to see it. I hope you like it, because apparently I couldn’t stop writing.

Taking this class was your own personal form of torture. Actual torture. You hated having it late in the afternoon, the tension building up all day. You’d slide into your seat in the hall, your leg bouncing, waiting for the first moment you’d see him. Every time you’d think it would be a relief, seeing him there in one of those shirts that showed off his arms dissipating the anticipation in your stomach, but then you’d look up at and he’d be standing there and it would get worse.

Today was no difference. He was in that blue shirt you loved so much. It brought out the blue in his eyes and the blond of his hair beautifully. He was reading over his notes, his nose scrunching in a way that made you want to run your finger over it to smooth it out. You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the heat of your skin.

He glanced up, his eyes roving over the filling lecture hall. You waited, your stomach clenching in anticipation of the brief moment of eye contact you may get. He got distracted by the influx of young girls, giggling amongst themselves as they took their seats at the front of the room. He flashed them a quick smile and the green eyed monster reared up in you. You hated he made you feel that way.

Other than a few brief conversations you’d had little to do with him. You did well in his class, and you tried to keep out of any trouble that may arise. You had assumed that a course on World War Two would be dry and boring but he kept you hanging on his every word. You could listen to him talk all day.

Professor Rogers was the bane of your existence and if you could you would go back in time so you had never known of his existence.

You lowered your gaze at the blank page in front of you. You twirled your pen in your fingers, counting the seconds for when it would be appropriate to look up again. You didn’t need to be caught staring like some kind of stalker. You bit down on your lower lip, worrying it between your teeth.

Your eyes flickered up again. They met his and your whole face became hot. You knew you must be bright red but you couldn’t look away. It was as if he’d ensnared you in his trap and you could do little more than wait for him to release you. It took a student coming up to talk to him to set you free.

Needless to say, you didn’t look at him for the rest of the class.

*******_______^_______*******

Then, he started to frequent the coffee shop you worked at. The first time you stumbled through taking his order, so entranced by the smiles he was giving you that you lost the ability to think. You’d passed it over with shaky hands, concentrating so hard on not spilling it you didn’t hear him talk to you. By the time his voice registered you’d already turned away.

You assumed he wouldn’t come back given the weird customer service you’d provided. You were gobsmacked when he walked back in the next day, smile in place. You’d bit your lip, sneaking glances at him in line while serving the other customers. He’d smiled at you when he got to the front of the line, asked you how your day was going, if it had been busy. Idle chit chat but it made your heart sing. You’d tried to be charming.

Seeing him in class later that day you’d done everything you could to stop the blush rising in your cheek. Seeing him outside of the learning environment made the build up worse. He’d caught your eye and flashed you a smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

You were glad you had the next day off work.

********_______^_______******** “You weren’t here yesterday”

You looked up from the cash register. Professor Rogers was standing in front of you, his eyes sparkling as you dropped the coins over the floor. You ducked behind the counter to pick them up and place them back in register. You took a deep breath and looked up again. He was still watching you.

“You’re not going to talk to me?” he asked, his mouth quirking up.

“Sorry,” you muttered, “what can I get you?”

“Where were you?” he asked instead.

“It was my day off. One of my professors set a lot of reading for class,” you sniped, annoyed from staying up late trying to get it done for the class today.

“Sounds like you should complain to your professor,” he said.

“I’m sure he won’t care. You know what professors are like,” you replied, shrugging. He chuckled, looking down then back at you from under his eyelashes. Your heart skipped a beat. “Now what can I get you?”

He placed his order, looking amused. You scrunched your nose at him as you took his money. He moved over to the side to wait for his coffee. You caught his eye as you made it, unable to stop the flush rising on your face.

He smiled as you handed him the coffee, your fingers brushing against one another. It made your heart stutter and you had to take a deep breath.

“See you in class,” he said before turning and walking out. No one person should have such a good ass.

********_______^_______********

Seeing Professor Rogers at work became part of your routine. You never expected for him to become such a big part of your day. He was legitimately the high point of your shift. You’d heard the whispers from the other servers, about the good looking blonde who bestowed smiles so often. Your friend made the observation he only seemed to come in when you were on, that he’d asked about your schedule. It gave you a little thrill to know that.

You couldn’t understand the reason behind it. You had no idea what was going through that man’s mind. You had to wonder if he was actually trying to kill you. He must have noticed the effect he had on you. Maybe he found it amusing.

You knew he liked to catch your eye in classes. Every time he’d flash you that half smile of his that drove you crazy and you’d become breathless. You began to live for those little moments when he made you feel more than just a student, as if you were in on a joke together.

*******_______^_______********

“Hi.”

You glanced over from your place at the bar. A pair of familiar blue eyes were twinkling down at you and a bright smile that made you blush.

“Professor Rogers,” you said in greeting, glancing down at the glass put in front of you.

“You can call me Steve you know,” he said.

“Steve,” you said to yourself, savouring it for a moment.

When you glanced back up at him. He had a slight flush on his cheeks which you assumed was from the hot air blasting through the room. It made him look like a bashful child. It was very endearing. You could almost see the small child he’d been

“Are you here with someone?” he asked.

You glanced over your shoulder, at your group of friends. They’d clocked your conversation partner. You best friend started fanning herself when she saw you looking. You heard Professor Rogers, Steve, chuckle.

“Your friends?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you admitted, turning back to face him. You regretted it when you saw the amusement dancing in his eyes. He must get so tired of women falling at his feet. Knowing you were one of them made you feel pathetic.

“Is this guy bothering you?” someone asked over your shoulder.

You turned, ready to reply with the negative until you saw the cheeky grin directed at your professor.

“If I’d wanted your help I would have asked for it,” Steve said, also grinning at the man.

“You don’t even know you need help,” the man said, “it’s just sad watching you.”

He slid his arm around your shoulders, leading you away form Steve, to a table past your friends. He pulled out the chair for you and you sat, hesitantly looking over your shoulder for Steve. The man sat in the chair across from you, Steve sliding into the one beside you.

“Bucky Barnes, at your service,” the man, Bucky, said, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

You couldn’t stop the blood rushing to your cheeks. You took a long drink from your glass, glad you’d forgone alcohol. You sensed you would need your wits with this one.

“Buck,” Steve warned.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the tension in his shoulder. Bucky laughed and lent back in the chair. Steve gave him a reluctant smile before turning to you. You quirked your eyebrow at him, wondering if he would explain all of this to you.

“I don’t think your friends are happy we’ve stolen you,” he said instead.

You turned in your seat to look at the table, their heads together, furious whispering going on. Your best friend looked at you. You gave her a thumbs up. She held up her phone but you shook your head and turned back to the two men.

“Secret code?” Bucky asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you said and took a sip of your drink.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Cap,” he said, winking at you.

“Cap?” you asked, turning to look at Steve. He flushed again, looking down at his fingers spinning the glass. You got distracted watching them, shifting in your seat. It took Bucky laughing for you to pay attention again.

“Captain of the nerds,” Bucky said.

“Just because you flunked out of college doesn’t mean you have to be jealous,” Steve shot back.

“You spent time reading in the library, I spent time meeting girls,” he said, “I know which I prefer.”

“Remind me which one of us is unemployed,” the blonde said, “don’t forget you’re sleeping on my couch.”

“Not for much longer, my friend. Give me a week,” he said, taking a sip from his own pint.

“If you boys are going to continue this pissing contest, I think I’ll rejoin my friends,” you interrupted before Bucky could respond.

You stood from the table, both men following suit. You picked up your glass, stopping when Steve put his hand on your arm. You shivered at the feeling of his bare skin against yours.

“I’m sorry for him,” he said, jerking his chin at Bucky, “I did tell him not to come over.”

“He was more fun than you,” you said with a wink to the brunette.

Steve’s face seemed to fall as you said that, his hand dropping from your arm. You stepped back, suddenly feeling on the wrong foot. You weren’t sure what had happened to make that happen. Surely he understood it was a joke.

“I like her,” you heard Bucky say as you turned away, “if you don’t lock that down, I will.”

*******_______^_______********

“Hey there, pretty lady.”

You looked up the notebook you were writing in. Bucky was standing in front of the counter, smirking at you. You smiled at him, straightening up.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” you asked.

“I’d say you but you’re not on the menu,” he replied.

You flushed but you scrunched your nose at him. He laughed and you realised what a nice sound it was. You could see why Steve was friends with him.

“Gimme whatever it is Cap gets,” he said.

“Coming right up,” you said, moving to make him the coffee.

He took a sip from the cup you gave him. He winced and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I fucking hate coffee,” he said.

“Then why’d you order it?” you asked.

He shrugged and took another sip.

“I get why Cap comes here,” he said, “if all the servers are as pretty as you.”

“I think he comes here for the coffee,” you replied, refusing to let him drag you into whatever game he was playing.

“Buck?”

Bucky turned around to look at the man calling his name. You watched as Steve walked towards the two of you, pulling his sunglasses from his face. You almost swooned under the image of him in that tight t-shirt, each and every muscle on display. You could see the other women in the coffee shop stopping to watch him, whispering to each other. You tried not to care.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Bucky.

“You won’t shut up about how good this place is so I thought I’d come give it a try,” he replied.

“You hate coffee.”

“But I like pretty girls.”

Steve glanced at you over Bucky’s shoulder then pulled the other man away. You tried not to watch their whispered conversation, tried to ignore his entire presence. It had been agony after seeing him at the Irish pub you and your friends frequented. Bucky had managed to get in your head.

You looked up when you heard Steve tap on the counter in front of you. He flashed that heart stopping smile in your direction and you had to remind yourself to breath.

“Your usual?” you asked.

“Here you go mate,” Bucky said, reaching over his shoulder to hand him the coffee cup, “you have shit taste.”

“I don’t want your cast offs,” Steve said, looking down at it with a nose scrunched up in disgust.

“You were singing a different tune when I introduced you to that blonde,” he said, patting him on the back, “see you later, darling.”

You saluted him as he waved goodbye to you. Steve looked at you with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged, not able to explain anything his friend was on about. You owed him no explanation if he was the one enjoying Bucky’s blonde cast offs.

“I’d like one he hasn’t drunk out of,” he said.

“Coming up, Professor Rogers,” you said.

He groaned, a pained look on his face. You ignored him, concentrating on his order. You didn’t want to think of him wrapped up in some faceless blonde’s arms. You didn’t need him. Bucky seemed as if he’d be up for it and he was as handsome as any man you’d seen.

You handed him the cup, accepting the old one to throw out. He lowered his head, looking you in the eye.

“There was no blonde,” he said, “Bucky is full of it.”

You ignored the thrill that information sent through you. You gave him a smile and it seemed as if he let out a breath he’d been holding. He smiled at you too.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked.

“I’ll be there in the back row,” you replied.

“Good.”

You watched him walk out trying not to overthink what me meant by that.

********_______^_______********

One day, a few weeks later, he brought the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen to the coffee shop. You tried to ignore the curl of jealousy in your lower stomach or the way you wanted to throw up just looking at them. You barely smiled at him when he reached the counter. He was in the middle of a conversation with the woman, so you doubted he even noticed.

You handed them their coffees, hoping he’d look at you, hoping he would notice. All he did was flash you a quick smile then walk out with her again.

You were so used to him asking after your day, caring about you. You were used to sharing a joke and a laugh with him. You felt like you were at least his friend, even if your heart wanted something more. But his actions made you feel as if you were being tossed aside for something better.

And it was obvious that woman was better. In every way.

When it came time to show up to his class you kept your head down, not risking a glance in his direction. You sat in the furthest corner, setting everything up so you wouldn’t look at him. You sat there, taking notes, trying so hard not to get lost in his voice. You only had a few weeks left of the class. All you had to do was get through them then you never had to see him again. If he made you feel like this just by having another female friend, then you needed out of whatever kind of relationship you had built.

You heard him call out your name at the end of class as you tried to hurry past. You turned, taking a deep breath, readying yourself for the sheer force of his charisma to hit you.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, trying to look deep into your eyes.

“Fine,” you replied, averting your gaze to your feet.

“Are you sure?” he asked, “you don’t seem it.”

“Professor Rogers, I’m fine. Promise.”

“Steve.” That pained looked was back.

“I’m going to go unless there’s something else, Professor.”

He didn’t say anything so you turned away. You looked down at your feet, wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to keep all the emotions in check. You ran headlong into a hard body as the door thumped shut behind you. You glanced up into a pair of familiar eyes.

“Hey Bucky,” you said.

“You alright, darling?” he asked, his hands on your elbows to steady you.

“Yeah,” you said.

“I was going to see Cap, but I think you might need my attention more,” he said, leading you away from the class. He pulled you outside, taking you to one of the tables in the quad. He sat you down before sitting across from you, his hands crossed under his chin.

“It should be a criminal offence to make a beautiful woman cry,” he said.

“I’m not crying,” you replied.

“But you want to.”

You looked down at your twisting hands. There was a part of you that did want to cry. There was a bigger part of you that wasn’t going to let some man make you fall apart, especially when you’d never been promised anything from him. Even if he’d made you think he might one day.

“Look, Cap isn’t very savvy when it comes to the ladies. But he likes you,” he said, “it’s obvious to anyone who knows him.”

“Please don’t,” you said, “I’d rather forget he exists.”

“Want to go get drunk?”

“Fuck yes.”

********_______^______********

You awoke with a pounding headache and a mouth tasting of a dead rodent. You rolled over, groaning when the light hit your eyes. You climbed to your feet, clutching your stomach. You stumbled off to the side, pushing open the door to bathroom. You emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet, heaving hard enough to hurt your abdominal muscles.

You rested your head against the cool tiles, letting out a long sigh. You felt like hell. All you wanted to do was curl up and go back to sleep. You climbed to your feet, sticking your head under the faucet in the sink, washing out your mouth and drinking as much water as you dared.

You looked around the room, realising you had no idea where you were. You pushed open the door again, walking through the unfamiliar bedroom. You could hear a low murmur of voices in the other room. You walked out, hoping it would be Bucky.

Your eyes met a familiar pair of blue ones and your heart sunk. You turned around and walked back to the bathroom, the nausea rolling over you. You heaved over the toilet again, bile and water all that was left to come up.

A pair of cool hands pulled your hair out of your face and you tried to ignore the tears gathering in your eyes. You hated throwing up. It was the worst thing to do.

“Get it all out, doll,” Steve said, rubbing his hand over your back.

You tried to push him off you, not wanting this man to see you in such a sorry state. You were so weak it did nothing. All he did was continue to run his hand over your back in comforting circles.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He held you steady as he rifled through Bucky’s medicine cabinet. He handed you painkillers and a glass full of water. He kept you upright as you downed the water and painkillers. You lent against him, closing your eyes against the harsh light.

He led you back out of the bathroom, settling you on the couch. You keeled over, burying your head in one of the cushions, trying to block everything out. You heard Steve and Bucky murmuring off to the side.

“Come on, doll, I’m going to take you home.”

You felt a pair of hands pull you up from the sofa. You opened your eyes, squinting at Steve. He put his arm around your waist to steady you.

“Can’t Bucky do it?” you asked.

“He’s not doing too well himself, doll,” he said.

“Well, can’t I stay here then?” you asked.

“I don’t think that would be such a great idea.” His hand tightened on your waist, “I’ll carry you out if I have to.”

“But you don’t know where I live,” you said.

“I guess I’ll have to bring you home with me, then,” he said.

You ignored the shiver of pleasure that went down your spine at that thought. You stepped out of his hold, wanting to feel as if you had made the choice to let him take you home. You gave Bucky a hug before you left the apartment. You waited for Steve in the hall while he said whatever he had to to Bucky.

He put his arm around your waist when he emerged, leading you into the elevator. You tried to ignore that little thrill in your stomach you had every time he touched you. He pressed the button for the garage and held you steady as the lift jolted to start your descent.

You groaned at the feeling of your stomach curdling. He pressed his lips to your temple, in what you assumed he thought was comforting but just made the whole thing worse. All this physical contact was ruining any chance of you maintaining your sanity.

He led you to a beautiful car, sleek and shiny. He held the door open for you to duck inside. You settled in the seat, leaning back and closing your eyes. If you threw up in his car you would die from embarrassment.

You didn’t notice as he started the engine and pulled out of the garage. You squinted your eyes open at the new influx of light. The world was moving too fast outside. You closed your eyes again.

“I think I might have kissed Bucky last night,” you said into the silence, pieces of unconnected memory surfacing.

You didn’t notice the shift in the air as tension entered Steve’s body. He clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. You didn’t see any of it with your eyes closed.

“That’s good information to have,” he said.

“I think he might have also told me it was a bad idea because of you,” you said, trying to work through what had happened.

“Because of me?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said, “it’s all kinda fuzzy.”

He hummed but didn’t ask you to talk any more. You were almost certain you had kissed Bucky and he had told you it was a bad idea because of your feelings for Steve and his for you. You were pretty sure he was full of shit and was trying to help you not make a fool of yourself because he didn’t see you that way. You squeezed your eyes tight.

“You still don’t know where I live,” you said, “where are you taking me?”

“To get some food into you,” he said.

“Are you trying to kill me?” you groaned, turning away from him.

“If I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t go to all this trouble to do it,” he said.

You groaned again. You could hear him chuckling and you would have tried to hit him if you weren’t sure your arms weren’t made of jelly. You curled up in your seat, refusing to look at him.

The door opened and you almost fell out of the car. If it weren’t for the arms catching your body, you would have strangled yourself with the seatbelt. Steve was laughing at you again as he unbuckled you and got you on your feet.

“I’m not a child,” you mumbled.

“Are you sure about that, doll?” he asked.

You tried to stride away from him, but you had no idea where you were meant to be going. He put his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the cafe. He held the door open for you. You would have melted into a puddle if you weren’t so annoyed at him treating you like a misbehaving child.

You slumped in the chair he pulled out for you. You rested your head on your arms, the light still too bright. You wanted to curl up in bed and the fact Steve was forcing you into being out was the worst kind of torture you could imagine.

He ordered for both of you when he realised you weren’t going to be helpful. You were sure you looked ridiculous, that you were living up to your role as a petulant child.

“Two coffees,” the waitress said, putting them down on the table.

You sat up, pulling the mug towards you. You closed your eyes as you inhaled the smell. It was the sweetest nectar you’d ever smelt. You would have married that cup of coffee if you could have.

“Doll?”

You looked up at Steve. He was holding the mug between his mouth and the table, giving you one of those small smiles that let you know how amused he was with your antics.

“Are you going to drink it, or just smell it?” he asked.

You scrunched your nose up at him but you lifted the cup to your mouth, taking a long drink of the hot liquid. You closed your eyes, moaning at the taste of it. It was better than anything you ever made at the shop. How was it so good?

You opened your eyes again to see if you’d gained Steve’s approval. There was a flush on his cheeks and you titled your head, trying to figure out what had happened.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

“Everything is perfect, doll,” he replied, taking his own sip.

Two plates of food were put down in front of you. Your stomach roiled and you gulped. You put down the cup and pushed away from the table.

“Be back in a minute,” you murmured.

You walked through the cafe to the bathroom. You pushed open the door, thankful to get away from the smell of food. You stood in front of the faucet, running cool water over your face. You looked up, catching sight of yourself in the mirror for the first time. You’d never seen yourself look worse. You groaned at Steve seeing you look that haggard. He’d never take you seriously again.

You splashed some more water on your face and took a deep breath. You pushed back out into the cafe, doing your best to not run into anyone’s table.

A woman was standing beside Steve, hand on shoulder, leaning closer to talk to him. You stopped a little way back, watching as Steve smiled up at her, engaging her in conversation. You were taken back to where you were the day before, wanting to go out with Bucky and get drunk.

He glanced over the woman’s shoulder and lit up. He stood from the table, bidding the woman goodbye. He moved past her, coming to stand in front of you. He put his hand on your shoulder, leaning forward to look at you properly.

“You alright, doll?” he asked.

You nodded, trying to give him a small smile. He cupped your face, making you look him in the eye. He seemed satisfied, nodding as he led you back to the table. You settled in your seat, looking down at the food that had sent you running.

You picked up your cup, taking another drink from it before facing the food. Steve was watching you, half his plate already gone.

“Am I going to have to feed you?” he asked.

You flushed but you picked up your fork and began eating. He kept watching until all the food was gone. He only started eating again once your plate was clear. You watched him, trying to figure out why he was taking care of you, why he was putting up with all your bullshit.

“Are you going to tell me where you live now?” he asked as he finished up, “or are you trying to get me to bring you home with me?”

You tried not to blush again, you really did, but Steve had the inexplicable talent of making you feel like one of those heroines in those trashy romance books that swooned any time the hero opened his mouth. He stood up, pulling his wallet from his back pocket, ignoring you as you protested his paying for your breakfast. He was doing too much for you. He’d held your hair back as you’d thrown up for christ’s sake.

“You ready?” he asked, putting his wallet back into his pocket.

You pushed away from the table and stood up, feeling a little more steady with the food in your stomach. At the very least you were no longer worried you’d fill his car with vomit. He still put his hand on your lower back, leading you back to his car. He held the door open as you slid into the interior.

“Your address?” he asked after he did up his seat belt.

You gave it to him and he pulled out into traffic. You lent back in your seat, taking this time to look at him. His profile was too perfect. No single person in the world had such a perfect face. His hair was swept off his face and caught the light in a way that made your heart clench.

“So why WWII?” you asked, pulling your legs up to wrap your arms around your knees.

“What do you mean?” he asked, flicking his eyes to you then back to the road.

“That’s your area of interest, right?” you asked, “why do you love it so much?”

You watched his face light up in understanding. You bit your lip at the soft smile on his face, so pure and perfect. He was all kinds of wonderful.

“It was such a transitional time in our history. Nothing fascinates me more than the way the world changed during that period. It laid the foundation for the world we live in now,” he said.

“So you’re not just in it for the war?” you asked.

“War is so full of death and pain. No one can like that,” he said, shaking his head.

“Some people do,” you said.

He shrugged but didn’t respond. You let your eyes rove over him, watching the way his fingers were wrapped round the steering wheel, the way biceps bulged in a way no normal human’s would, the little crease he got between his eyebrows as he concentrated. Your fingers itched to smooth it.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, “I’m sure you had better things to do with your Saturday morning.”

“Not really,” he replied, flashing you a quick smile. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you anyway.”

His smile softened again, his eyes staying trained on the road. There was nothing more for you to do but settled against the seat, watching him. His fingers tapped along with the song on the quiet radio, barely noticeable. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you in a comforting hug, filling your every orifice. You were sure you’d be able to smell it for days to come. His fingers tightened then relaxed on the steering wheel.

“I didn’t realise you were so close with Bucky,” he said into the silence.

“I’m not,” you replied, “or at least I wasn’t. I don’t know. People are hard.”

“But you went out with him?” he prodded.

“He was there and he offered,” you replied with little more than a shrug, “I didn’t want want to be with anyone I knew well. Just someone to have fun with.”

“What happened that made you want that?” he asked, “you seemed upset yesterday.”

You looked out the window, not wanting to look at him. If you did you’d remember the way he’d ignored you the day before. You couldn’t admit it to him without sounding like a petulant child, an image you’d been doing your best to get rid of despite your antics that morning.

“Was it me?” he asked, his voice quiet. You would have missed it if your entire body wasn’t so attuned to him.

“Was what you?” you asked.

“Did I upset you?” he asked.

You clenched your jaw. You didn’t want to lie but you couldn’t admit the problem. There was no way you’d live down sounding like a jealous girlfriend when you had no more claim on him than anyone else. He reached out, his hand resting on your knee. You froze.

“I’m sorry.”

You spent the rest of the car ride in silence. When he pulled up outside your building you offered a quiet thanks and got out of the car. He let you go without a word. You paused at your door, turning to look back. He was watching you, his gaze oddly intense. You shivered and turned back, entering your building. Your bed was calling to you.

********_______^______*******

You weren’t sure where you stood with Steve anymore. He was still friendly, flashing you those smiles that made your heart skip a beat but you didn’t want to let him too close anymore. You didn’t want to have that same kind of break down again, those same kind of feelings attacking you. You did not want to get your hopes up again.

Bucky was still checking up on you. You’d catch up for coffee between classes and you realised he was refusing to take sides. He’d avoid talking about Steve completely, which was fine by you as you were trying not to think about him too much. If you did you’d think back on that morning when he was taking care of you.

You managed to get through the last few weeks of the year without getting into a situation with Steve beyond professor and student. It was a relief once the class was done. You knew you’d run into him, he did keep coming to the coffee shop after all, but now you didn’t need to see him all the time. You didn’t have to pay attention to him.

You took some time off from the coffee shop to go travelling over the summer with some friends. It was one of the greatest experiences of your life, driving across country, doing your best to visit every single state. You’d never felt more free in those few weeks on the road.

It was a relief to get home and catch up on all the sleep you’d missed. Your bed was the most comfortable thing in the world and you promised you’d never leave it again. You woke up to find Bucky in your kitchen the morning after getting back. He told you to sit down, drink up the coffee and tell him everything you’d seen, despite the fact you’d been sending him pictures every couple of hours.

It was nice to have someone to debrief with, who didn’t judge you after seeing you at your worst more than once. Seeing him did bring up questions about Steve, but you figured that was to be expected. You had assumed he’d forgotten about you in the intervening weeks. You were nothing more than one of his ex-students.

********_______^_______********

You didn’t expect to find Steve leaning against the side of his car outside your apartment building.

You had been heading out to meet Bucky at your cafe. He’d asked for you to join him to get him the employee discount. You’d agreed because you’d been sleeping for the last two days and needed time to reestablish contact with the outside world before going back to work. You’d been given an extra week off after you’d gotten back from your trip to get your head back in the game. Sometimes you really did appreciate your manager.

“Hey,” you said, walking up to him.

“Welcome back.”

He walked around the car and held open to the passenger seat. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at you.

“Are you kidnapping me?” you asked.

“We’re going for coffee,” he replied in that voice he used when he was refusing to be dragged into an argument.

“I already have plans to get coffee with someone.”

“Yeah, with Bucky,” he said, “He agreed to swap with me.”

“I’m not a toy you can pass around with your friends,” you replied.

“I meant he’s going to see Natasha about access to the private collection for me and I’m spending the afternoon with you. He’s better at charming people than I am,” he said, “are you going to keep being difficult?”

You clenched your jaw and stomped over to the car. You slid onto the seat, letting him close the door on the humid air of the city. He started up the engine and pulled out into traffic. You stared out at the city speeding past, thankful for the cool air but not much else.

“I’m sensing you’re mad at me,” he said into the silence.

“I’m not,” you snapped.

You heard that wry chuckle you’d grown used to over the last few months. You didn’t want to feel those same feelings you’d felt then, the way you’d wanted to keep amusing him. Now all you wanted to do was forget he’d ever had such control over your feelings.

He pulled over. You clenched your jaw again, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. When you reopened them Steve was holding the door open for you. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.

You had no idea where you were.

“Steve?”

He hummed, leading you away from the road.

“Where are we?” you asked, “I thought we were getting coffee.”

“We are,” he replied.

He opened a door to a building, putting his hand on your lower back to lead you inside. You shivered at the contact, every previous touch flashing through your mind. You shook your head, trying to stop from falling back into old patterns.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“I thought you’d appreciate not having to pay for coffee,” he replied.

“That didn’t answer my question, professor,” you said.

He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow as he pressed the button for the lift. He ushered you inside, leaning forward to press the button for one of the middle floors. In such an enclosed space you felt as if his cologne was wrapping around you like a second skin.

The doors opened and he held his arm out, letting you leave the lift first. You followed him down the hall, ignoring the noises coming from behind the other doors. He pulled a bundle of keys from his pocket, inserting one into the door he’d stopped in front of. He pushed the the door open and you stepped inside.

It was the most Steve-like place you’d ever seen. The sunlight poured through the window leading out onto a tiny balcony. You could see the dust particles spin through the air. The brown leather of his sofa looked worn and well loved, the blanket over one end hand knitted and the cushions plump and soft. It smelt like paper and ink, reminding you of an old second-hand bookstore.

Books were piled up all over the room, most on history but many worn paperback novels amongst the collection. The coffee table was covered in loose paper, some with mug rings staining the pristine surface. Beyond the general clutter of his work the rest of the room was well organised and clean.

“Home sweet home,” Steve said, pushing you forward again so he could close the door.

“What are we doing here?” you asked.

“Having coffee.”

You followed him towards the kitchen, watching him move through the space as comfortable and confident as he was when he lectured on history. Visions of an impossible future flitted through your mind. The uncomfortable weight of sadness settled in your stomach.

His fingers brushed against yours as he passed you a mug. You turned away, walking over to the glass door leading to the balcony. The air was warm in the sunlight and you turned your face up to the sun, drinking it in. It was the most comforting part of your afternoon so far.

“Why am I here, Steve?” you asked with a sigh.

You turned back around to find him sitting on the sofa, one ankle resting on his knee. He was watching you, one of those soft smiles on his face that he gave whenever he listened to Bucky. You took a sip from the mug he’d given you, trying to shake off the feeling you were out of your depth. You were tired of feeling like a child in this man’s presence.

“I thought it was time to talk,” he said.

“About?”

He arched his brow and held out his hand to you. You ignored it, staying by the window. At the very least it was a handy exit should you need to make a quick escape. He looked exasperated and stood up, walking towards you. You backed up until your back hit the cold glass of the window. He stopped too close to you.

“I’ve done something to upset you,” he said, “don’t argue.”

“It wasn’t-“ He put his finger on your lips, silencing you. You could feel your hands shaking and clutched the mug tighter.

“I told you not to argue,” he said, “Bucky won’t tell me what it is. He’s been telling me to talk to you for weeks but then you went away. I wish I’d done this weeks ago.”

He dropped his hand from your face, instead taking the mug from your hand. He turned back, putting both yours and his on the low coffee table. You trembled as he turned back, his eyes boring into yours.

“Please tell me what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything. It was me,” you said, your voice quiet. You looked down at your feet, shuffling against the carpet. He tucked his finger under your chin, pushing your face up to look at him.

“What happened?” he asked.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to vocalise the insecurity, the hope and the dreams, the way you’d felt crushed. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. It was you placing all your hope on him without ever saying anything. You’d hurt your own feelings.

He brushed away some of the hair that had fallen in your eyes. You hated how he touched you, as if it was no big deal, as if it didn’t send your heart into overdrive every single time. His fingers trialed over your cheek, lingering as he looked down at you.

“Stop it.”

You knocked his hand away from you and ducked out from where he’d crowded you against the window. You walked back to the centre of the room, needing to put distance between you and him. He was still watching you, his gaze almost burning your skin more than the sun ever could.

“I thought we were friends,” he said.

“We were,” you replied.

“Were?”

You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut, wishing this was nothing more than a bad dream. When you opened your eyes you’d be in bed, ready to meet Bucky for coffee just as you planned. You squinted your eyes open.

You were still in Steve’s apartment.

“You can’t say that and then not explain what you mean,” he said. He really wasn’t to let you get away with it.

“I think it would be better if we weren’t anymore,” you said, “I think it would be best for both of us if we just went our seperate ways.”

“Why?’ he asked. He stepped towards you and you stepped back. You knew when he was too close all rational thought disappeared. He managed to dazzle you with little more than a lopsided smile. He looked hurt but didn’t try to get closer.

“I just don’t think we click,” you said, “I think we’re too different.”

“I think that’s bullshit.”

You started, the swear word so at odds with the man you knew. He was watching you, his arms crossed over his chest. You’d never seen him look this way, a terrible combination of frustration and almost unconfined anger.

“I think I did something that upset you and you’re not willing to admit it to me. I think you think it’s easier to push me out of your life because you’re scared of what the alternative is.”

“And what’s the alternative?” you snapped.

“This.”

He strode across the room, grasped your face in both his hands and drew you up into a searing kiss. All thoughts flew from your head and you succumbed under the fire of his touch. He pulled you close and you melted against his body, moulding yourself to every bump and dip of his body. You wanted more. You wanted everything.

He drew back, pressing his forehead to yours. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily. He slid his hands from where they cupped your cheeks to tangle his fingers with yours. You couldn’t catch up, couldn’t put together the kiss and the argument and all the feelings in your chest.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said.

He blinked his eyes opened, the deep blue so easy to get lost in this close. You couldn’t look away as he lent forward, capturing your lips once again. This kiss didn’t last as long, so fleeting, leaving you wanting more.

“What?” Your voice was barely there, soft and broken.

He smiled, almost sadly as he let you go. Your fingers clenched as if you were trying to stop him once he was already gone. You shook your head. You couldn’t remember why you were so angry before.

“The first time I saw you in that first class you took my breath away. And it only got worse from there. You were my own personal form of torture,” he said, “I spent months feeling like I was a creep, unable to tear my eyes away from you while giving my lecture. I felt like one of those sleazy teachers praying on young girls. But everything you did, everything you do, drives me wild.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening right now,” you said, shaking your head again.

“I’m trying to confess my feelings for you,” he said, one corner of his lips quirking up.

“Why?” you asked.

“I need to stop you disappearing from my life,” he said, “I need you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t need,” he said.

You walked to him, looking up into his face. He was pushing his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends as he watched you. You reached up, pulling his hand from his hair. His shoulders slumped and he ducked his head.

“If you’re going to tell me you don’t feel the same way it’s okay,” he said, “I had to try.”

You cupped his cheek, pulling him down into a soft kiss, hoping it would be enough. His hand settled on your waist, crushing you to him. Your free hand clutched at his shirt, doing your best to make sure he couldn’t get away from you.

You couldn’t stop him from drawing away again, or from him curling forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder. You slid your hands up his back, holding him as he breathed deeply.

“Does this mean you’re not leaving?” he asked, his voice muffled in your shirt.

“Not now I’m not,” you replied, running your fingers through his hair.

********_______^_______*******

It didn’t surprise you that Steve drew stares from strangers. He was literally the most attractive person you’d ever seen so if he drew admiring looks from people who didn’t know him you couldn’t find fault. You used to be one of those strangers. There was nothing wrong with stares.

It was the random women flirting with him.

He never explicitly encouraged it but he was polite and there were times you thought he didn’t realised what they were doing. You’d be sitting in a cafe or a restaurant with him, your hands clasped on the table or one of his hands resting on your leg, and they’d come over all giggles and twirling hair. In those moments you’d become invisible.

Bucky was good during these times, diverting their attention onto him. You still felt like an ass for feeling so jealous, especially when Steve never did anything to indicate he was anything less than ecstatic with you. You trusted him not to cheat. You trusted him not to leave you.

But there was a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you that you weren’t good enough to be with him.

********_______^_______********

It all came to a head when you were getting off work, about a week before semester was starting up again. Steve was sitting at a table, waiting for you, one leg crossed over the other as he read one of those books from his impossibly large collection. You were just finished up one last transaction when a woman walked in.

You’d looked up at the tinkle of the bell, the move so automatic it wasn’t until you’d looked down again that it registered with you. You watched over the customer’s shoulder as she spotted Steve and made right for him. Her red hair barely brushed her shoulders but her hips swayed with each step, her form fitting dress making you swear off cake for the next century. You watched as one of the patrons dribbled coffee into his lap as he watched her walk by. You felt something curdle in your stomach.

You pulled your apron off your body and folded it over your arm. Steve was talking to the woman, her back to you but she was leaning towards him. Steve’s eyes flickered over her shoulder and you say him visibly perk up as you walked towards him.

“All done?’ he asked, interrupting whatever it was the woman was saying.

You nodded. He held you his arm to you and you automatically went to him. He put his arm around your waist as you stood next to him, your own arm sliding over his shoulder, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. You looked at the other woman who was watching with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Nat, this is the girl I’ve been telling you about,” Steve said, squeezing your hip.

“He will not shut up about you,” the woman, Nat, said, extending her hand out towards you, “everyone in the office is growing sick of him.”

You grasped her hand, her grip strong as she shook your hand. You gave her a weak smile, still not sure what was going on. This was the woman Steve had ignored you for all those months ago. You could see she was far more beautiful than you and had an easy camaraderie with him that you sometimes felt you couldn’t emulate. You wanted to curl up in your bed and never deal with this problem. If you could just ignore it it would go away.

“Nat is negotiating with us to let me in to see the Stark collection,” Steve said, looking up at you with that brilliant smile. He’d been talking about the Stark collection for the last week, everything coming back to those documents he was desperate to get his hands on.

“Tony is being difficult again so just ignore any emails he sends you until I can talk to him,” she said to Steve.

“I always do,” he replied.

He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. He pulled you against his body, pressing a kiss to your temple. Nat smiled, her face softening. She seemed more approachable, less cold bitch which had been your first impression of her.

“Call me when you have more you need from me,” he said, “I need to go spend some time with my girl.”

He led you out of the cafe, his arm a comforting weight around you. You settled against him more comfortably, letting him decided where you went. You didn’t want to think about it. You couldn’t stop remembering how he had ignored you for Nat, how small you’d felt in that moment.

“You’re quiet,” he said, “bad shift?”

“No, it was fine,” you replied slowly, “maybe I’ve been on my feet too long.”

“If you don’t talk to me I can’t help, doll” he said.

“I’d rather we didn’t talk about it in public,” you replied.

You knew Steve hated making you feel uncomfortable, or causing a scene. You figured if you asked to talk about it in private you’d be able to distract him before you got back to his apartment. If you could keep him mind on something else you wouldn’t have to admit your own weaknesses. It was hard when he seemed not to have any.

He led you down the street, not saying anything. You couldn’t gage how he was feeling or what was running through his mind. Sometimes he seemed like a whole other species to you. You always felt like you didn’t know what was going through his mind.

You didn’t realise he’d managed to walk you the entire way back home. He held the door open for you, just as he had that first day, and you ducked inside, glad for the cool air of the foyer. You followed him into the lift, realising you needed to come up with a plan to distract him before he could ask you about your day. You could kiss him, that always distracted him.

You fell on the sofa as soon as he let you into the apartment. You let out a grateful groan at the pressure on your feet being relieved. You buried your face in one of the cushions, closing your eyes against the warm light of the room. You could fall asleep right here. You had plenty of times before.

Maybe if you pretended to be too tired Steve would drop it.

“Talk to me, doll.”

No such luck then.

You hauled yourself into a sitting position. Steve was sitting on the coffee table, leaning towards you, his arms resting on his knees. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You supposed you always knew this moment was coming, that you’d have to admit all the irrational feelings that sometimes built up in your chest.

He put a hand on your knee. You opened your eyes.

“That night when I went out with Buck and got drunk,” you began, “it was because of you.”

A pained look crossed his face but he didn’t do anything to make you stop. You took another steadying breath.

“That day you came to coffee shop,” you said.

“I remember,” he interrupted, “you had on a blue t-shirt the same colour as your eyes.”

You blushed, not sure if he really had noticed then or if it was later in the day during the class when he’d seen. Either way, it was a nice touch on his part.

“Well, you brought Nat,” you said, “and you kind of ignored me.”

“I would never ignore you,” he said, shaking his head.

“You were talking to her and all you did was smile at me when I gave you your coffee,” you said, “I know I’m blowing it out of proportion but it made me feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry, that was not my intent,” he said.

“No, don’t apologise,” you said, “you’re perfect, you’ve done nothing wrong. You were talking with a person. It happens. I do it all the time. But she’s literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and you’re so gorgeous you take my breath away and sometimes I can’t help but wonder why you’re with me. It makes no sense. And it’s not because of you, because you’re perfect, you never do anything to make me think you don’t want me. Maybe that’s what gets me. I don’t know why you want me. You could have anyone. Why me?”

“You’re beautiful, and you’re kind, and you’re funny. Just seeing you makes me smile,” he said without hesitation, “you always make me smile. You’re the best part of every single day.”

You smiled, looking down at the twisting hands in your lap. He always had the perfect thing to say. You didn’t deserve someone like that.

“Sometime my brain just tells me you’re gonna leave me for someone better,” you said.

“When you told me you kissed Bucky that night I thought I’d lost any chance to be with you,” he said, “I thought you liked him more than me and I had no chance. Buck is the greatest man I’ve ever known and it wouldn’t have surprised me to know you’d chosen him. You wouldn’t have been the first.”

“You don’t see yourself very clearly,” you said, your voice quiet.

“Neither do you, doll.”

He shifted from the table to the sofa, cupping your cheek. You looked up into his eyes, surprised to find tears gathering. You reached up, tracing your finger over his cheekbone. His eyes closed as if he were in pain.

“I see how well you get on with him. You go to him when you have a problem, when you want to have fun, when you want to talk. I love that you’re such good friends, but sometimes it’s hard to shake the thought that you kissed him,” he said.

“I was sad and hurt and drunk. I never thought I had a chance with you. I didn’t really want him. He was just there.”

He surged forward, kissing you, the most desperate he’d ever been. You gasped into his mouth. You fell back against the arm of the sofa, his arms caging you in. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair, not letting him leave you.

“Next time you feel this way,” he growled, drawing back a minuscule amount, “tell me.”

“As long as you promise to let me know if you think I’m leaving you for Buck,” you breathed.

He kissed you again, driving any thoughts from your head.

********_______^_______********

You forgot Steve had an office until he asked you to meet him there on the first day back at college. You’d never been there while in his class, never needing to. Now you wondered how you could have ever been anywhere else.

It had the same vibe as his apartment. There were pot plants all over, a worn sofa shoved against one of the walls, and books stacked on the desk. He had a window facing out onto the lawn outside the building. You could see other students sitting on the grass .

He was leaning back in his chair, a pen tapping against his lower lip. He looked up as you shut the door, leaning back against it. He smiled, dropping the pen onto the table and getting up.

“You’re here.”

“You asked to me to come here,” you said, wrinkling your brow, “why the surprise?”

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to be seen with me.”

He gave you one of those shy half smiles. It made your heart swell with how much you cared for him. He stepped out from behind his desk, reaching for your hand. You let him lead you to the sofa, sitting you down on the soft cushion. You looked up at him, watching as he gazed down at you.

“I always want to be seen with you,” you said.

“Even though I’m a crotchety old professor?”

You could hear the laughter behind his voice. His eyes were sparkling and you were getting ready to role your eyes at him. He was well aware he left a line of heartbroken girls at the end of every semester. Bucky had told you all the stories. He’d comforted more than a few of them.

“Did you need something or did you just want something pretty to stare at?” you asked, tossing your hair over your shoulder.

“I always want something pretty to stare at,” he said, “it’s why I keep Bucky around.”

You laughed, your head thrown back. You felt the sofa dip and you opened your eyes, still laughing as Steve pulled you closer to him. You pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He pulled you back towards him when you tried to draw back. His hand was so warm on the bare skin of your waist from where your shirt had ridden up.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he said when he let you go.

“Bad day?” you asked.

“Freshmen at 9am are the worst bunch of people I’ve ever had to deal with,” he sighed.

“Just flash them that gorgeous smile of yours and they’ll be too entranced to be annoying,” you said, running your thumb over his lower lip.

He smiled, pressing his forehead against yours. You threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him in place as you smiled with him. He made you feel so happy.

“I’m cooking for you tonight,” you said.

“Really?” His smile got brighter.

“Uh huh,” you said, “and if you give me your key I can go home and start preparing.”

He leapt off the sofa, rummaging through his desk draw. He struggled with the key ring, pulling his apartment key from the rest of them. He tossed the key to you, and you fumbled it, dropping it into your lap. You picked it up, holding it up to the light and looking at it.

“You trust me not to set your place on fire?” you asked.

“You never have before,” he said, “I trust you.”

You got up, slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. You’d never felt closer to him, not even during your first time together. Knowing he trusted you enough with his space made you feel so warm inside.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as you drew back from him. His smile was soft and you bit your lower lip. He tucked some hair behind your ear.

“I’ll see you when I get home.”

Home. That was a such a nice word.

********_______^_______********

The last few months had been the happiest of your life. You hadn’t believed it was possible to be this happy. Steve was the single greatest thing to happen in your life and there was no part of it you were willing to give up. You basically lived with him these days.

You’d gone to bed, leaving Steve up to finish his marking. He’d been complaining about the utter lack of literacy in some freshmen. He’d read you some of the sentences, earning eye roll after eye roll from you. You’d left him there as the hour grew too late and your eyes became too heavy.

In a half asleep state you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You rolled over, burying your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of soap and sandalwood. You felt him nuzzle against the top of your head, letting out a long sigh.

“Let’s stay in bed all day tomorrow,” he said, his voice gravely and tired.

You murmured something in agreement, settling against him more comfortably. He let out a long sigh and you were sure he’d closed his eyes.

“You work too hard,” you said.

He chuckled, the tired kind that let you know he was desperate for sleep. You pressed a kiss to the bit of chest you were closest to.

“Go back to sleep, doll,” he murmured.

“Okay,” you mumbled, “love you.”

“Love you too.”

It wasn’t until the morning that the impact of those words hit you. You’d never told him you loved him and he’d never told you he loved you. It was hard to remember it had happened, your tired brain making it difficult to pull it back into your memory. Until you passed him a cup of coffee.

“I really do love you.”

You froze, your eyes meeting his. He was smiling at you, so bright and open. You tangled your fingers in his hair, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside him.

“I really do love you too.”

He pulled you onto his lap, kissing you deeply. You straddled him, feeling lighter by confessing your feelings. You’d known it for a while but hadn’t been sure how he’d been feeling. It was nice to know you were on the same page.

You were so glad you’d taken that history class.

Tags: @libellule2001 @evanstush

[britishassistant]

But I Like One Piece (8)

She should know by now that a running theme in her new life is that it doesn’t

The weather’s finally warmed up again. The cherry blossoms suffered because of the continued cold snap this year, and Ino’s family flower shop is struggling to keep a lot of their stock alive.

She knows this because Ino will not stop complaining about it.

They’re in the first class of the day and the teacher is lecturing about chakra, teaching them the difference between genjutsu and ninjutsu. She’s thinking that both sound horrifying in their own ways— subverting the laws of nature to attack an opponent, or invading their brain to do so.

A sound pierces the air.

It’s not a siren wailing—not quite. It’s high and fluted, too close to birdsong for that.

But it has a similar urgency. The teacher’s head snaps up the moment he hears it, and his face goes pale.

“Everybody follow me.” He snaps. “Single-file line, hold hands now. Anyone trying to mess around or run off will be automatically expelled from the Academy, do you understand?!”

There’s a bit of confused muttering, and a couple of lamentations from Kiba when it transpires he has to hold Shino’s hand again, but them teacher shoots them a wild-eyed, barely restrained look.

That shuts them all up.

They walk out into the hall, where several other lines of children, older and younger than them, are assembled into similar formations and following other teachers out of the building.

She catches a brief glimpse of Lee, holding hands with a girl with her hair in buns, before the crowd of children moves and swallows him up once more.

“What’s going on?” Naruto mutters behind her.

She shrugs helplessly, shaking her head at him.

In front of her, Chouji shifts nervously, clutching her hand tighter.

They’re lead out of the Academy and up to the not-Mount Rushmore.

They’ve been learning that these are the past and current leaders of the village. Their huge faces seem to frown down on them as they approach.

They take little trails up the side of the cliff face, so thin and crumbling that their single-file procession is the only way to avoid plummeting to a painful end.

“Look!!” Someone—she doesn’t recognize who—yelps from several children in front of them in line, a pale arm appearing seemingly out of the throng to point.

They stutter to a halt, as people’s heads crane round to follow the pointing finger and they stop moving to see what all the fuss is about.

They’re a lot higher than the village, at this point on the trail. So it’s easy to see numerous shapes—dressed in dark clothes and white masks, or in green jackets like Gai-sensei’s—moving with a single minded focus through streets and over roofs towards one building.

The Hokage Tower.

There’s a low, percussive BOOM.

Fierce wind pushes the children flat against the mountainside as dust and debris rolls through the streets below.

The side of the Tower closest to them now has a gaping hole.

“MOVE, all of you!!” The teacher from their first year screams.

Someone’s crying as they all begin shuffling forward again at a faster pace, an intense wail that almost drowns out the harried whispers of “What was that—” and “This can’t be happening—” and—

Naruto’s foot slips.

He shrieks as gravity pulls him down. She hears a scream as she tightens her grip on his hand and yanks as hard as she can, inadvertently using Chouji as an anchor.

To his credit, he plants his feet and holds onto her as tight as he can to stop her from going off the edge after him.

Shino, holding Naruto’s other hand, also strains to keep him from plummeting, a mass of insects swarming out of his sleeves and pushing at the boy’s chest until he’s leaning against the cliff face, sweaty and panting.

They shuffle along a lot more carefully after that, until they arrive at the entrance to a series of tunnels.

Naruto suddenly makes an urgent little noise behind her. She turns back to look.

There’s a person.

They’re perched on a roof not too far away, face turned up towards the little mountainside procession.

They could be a boy or a girl, long blond hair whipping in the wind. They seem...small. Maybe about Ino or Shikamaru’s size?

Their clothes seem strangely bulky for the mild weather and help to hide their sex. There’s a dark mask over the bottom of their face, concealing it from view.

Their eyes, however, are clearly fixed on Naruto.

She clenches his hand tighter, tries to pull him behind her so the stranger won’t have a clear shot at him. Shino’s insects buzz in warning. Kiba bares his teeth as he and Akamaru let out twin growls. Chouji begins yelling for a teacher.

The masked person tilts their head, considering.

Then they vanish in a swirl of white she thinks might be snow.

Several masks materialize around the place where the person was, before disappearing themselves in flurries of leaves.

The teacher from their first year grabs Naruto and Chouji’s shoulders and shoves them behind her.

She does the same thing to her and Shino, pushing them all deeper into the tunnels as she strides back to the entrance, a kunai clenched in her teeth.

She thinks she might’ve respected Taki-sensei more while she taught them if the teacher was nicer to Naruto, if she didn’t have such an obsession with Usagi-hime (the tyrant), and if she had known that the woman could do a stellar impression of Zoro-on-the-Warpath.

They’re swept along in the throng of crying, shouting, scared children.

Chouji’s muttering what happened to Shikamaru, who’s growing paler by the second. Kiba’s growling epithets and empty threats behind them, punctuated by Akamaru’s high-pitched barks, while Shino remains worryingly silent.

Sakura, Ino, Hinata and Uchiha are too far ahead for her to be able to see them, to know if they’re alright.

She can’t see Lee anywhere in the crowd around them either, and an irrational cold sweat breaks out on her brow.

Naruto’s hand trembles slightly in her grip. She squeezes it, gently.

They walk for what feels like miles, before the tunnels finally widen out into a cave.

From there they’re told by the teacher (their current one) and the nice man with the scar to sit quietly with their class as the teachers call role to see if anyone’s missing.

Much like the fire drills of her past life, it devolves into chaos pretty quickly.

Lee manages to sneak away to join their lunch time group in a corner.

He greets the others with his usual exuberance and takes her sudden, frantic hug with aplomb. Then he promptly sets about telling Sakura how lovely she looks today.

They all relax a little bit at that, even Sakura who’s desperately trying to hide how unused she is to the praise by changing the topic to anything else.

The knowing looks Ino keeps giving her and Lee only serve to exacerbate the pink-haired girl’s efforts.

She startles suddenly. “Oh shit.”

“Huh? Mayu-chan, what’s wrong?” Sakura asks, nervous.

“This is bad, this is bad, this is so, so bad—” She repeats, running her hands through her hair, nearly knocking her silver hairclips loose. Luffy save her, this is a nightmare on top of everything else. They couldn’t go on like this. How could she be so stupid?

“What is it?!” Shikamaru demands, eyes tight and focused.

“I forgot our lunches back in the classroom.” She rasps.

For some reason, instead of reacting with the appropriate horror, everyone else just groans.

“Mayu, it is ten in the morning.” Ino says. “Lunch isn’t for another two hours.”

“We might be here for longer! You don’t know!” She argues, cheeks flushing hot. “I don’t want you guys getting hungry!”

“Why are women so troublesome?” Shikamaru grumbles, flopping back to stare at the ceiling.

She pouts, Hinata’s hand on her knee the only thing stopping her from booting Shikamaru in the side, and leans into Naruto’s side to grouse about ungrateful friends, not appreciating all the worry she goes through on their behalf.

He pats her head consolingly.

She’s drawn out of her sulk by Sakura’s worried. “...Sasuke-kun?”

When she looks up at the boy in question, he’s white as a sheet, hands digging red lines where they grasp his knees, eyes bulging and staring at nothing, breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps.

Shit.

“I believe Uchiha is having a panic attack.” Shino says. “Why? Because he is unresponsive to the stimuli provided by my kikaichū and his pulse is elevated to fight-or-flight levels.”

“What’s a panic attack?” Naruto asks, eyes fixed on Uchiha’s shaking form.

“Something reminded him of something scary,” She says, hoping she’s not mangling it as horribly as Ino’s face is suggesting she is. “Now he’s having trouble staying in the here and now.”

Uchiha begins muttering something, too low to hear.

Kiba tilts his head. “Why’s he saying ‘it’s him, he’s back’ over and over?”

Shikamaru’s eyes widen. “The massacre. Shit.”

Lee’s about to whip around, like he expects the murderer of the Uchiha to be behind him, when Ino grabs his arm.

“Don’t.” She orders. “No sudden movements or raised voices. Daddy says that freaks them out more. Just be calm and quiet. Can you do that?”

Lee nods silently, and Ino gradually releases her grip on his arm.

“Uchiha-san.” Hinata asks. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

Then—a quick jerk of the head.

“I was wondering if you could tell me how you made that cake. For U-Uzumaki-kun’s birthday last year? The one all the adults liked?”

There’s a silence.

“...Whisked sugar and butter.” He croaks. “Didn’t use as much sugar as Akimichi wanted. Still was fluffy. Added eggs and a bit of flour slowly. Can’t use all the flour until after. Fold it in with baking powder. And coffee bits. Lots of coffee bits. Half the tin.”

“That’s dumb.” She says in her most soothing voice. “You’re only supposed to do one tablespoon.”

He actually lifts his head and glares at her. “No it’s not.” He argues. “It’s too sweet otherwise.”

She’s about to argue that it’s cake, that’s the entire point when Sakura cuts in. “Yeah.” She says. “Your cake just had a more...mature taste than what Mayu-chan’s used to.”

She narrows her eyes at Sakura, contemplating elbowing her. Her tastebuds are fine, she just doesn’t destroy them with bitterness and acidity.

But Uchiha’s snorting in amusement and his trembling’s slowed down a lot, his breathing gradually returning to normal.

They keep talking quietly like that about cakes and the various ways Uchiha was planning on butchering perfectly good recipes, and the potential of making safe doggy-cakes for Akamaru, until the teachers tell them the coast is clear.

The sun is long past the noon mark by the time they make it back to the classroom.

She was right about them going hungry, because everyone falls upon their lunchboxes with the ferocity of wild beasts or a hungry Luffy before the teacher sends them all home for the day.

Sasuke somehow leaves before anyone can notice and offer to walk back with him.

Okaa-sama is waiting outside the gate to greet her, Naruto and Lee.

Her teahouse uniform is covered in brownish dust, which her mother appears heedless of as she hugs each of them individually, and then gives them all one big hug.

Nobody knows what happened, or why a bit of Hokage Tower exploded yet. Apparently there was a huge genjutsu cast that made everyone in the surrounding area, even the masks, fall asleep after that, so the culprits got away for now.

Okaa-sama reassures them that the Hokage will surely have his best hunter-nin on the case, and they’ll be caught and brought to justice soon.

She goes a bit green when Naruto describes almost falling, and then seeing the mysterious person who was likely one of the perpetrators staring at him, squeezing his hand tightly as they walk.

There are lots of people walking home now. Even shopkeepers are closing up early and returning home to their families.

She wonders when Otou-sama’s coming home while she washes up the lunchboxes with Lee and Naruto. Surely his job would’ve let him go home by now?

Nobody says anything, but his absence becomes palpable as dinner draws closer. Okaa-sama makes them wait half an hour past when the food should be served, watching out the window anxiously.

Eventually they have to eat or Naruto won’t get home by curfew. They leave aside a plate warming in the oven.

Okaa-sama has begun gnawing at her bottom lip when a knock at the door finally comes.

Everyone exchanges glances, before her mother rises and goes to answer it.

It’s not Otou-sama.

It’s a mask.

“I am here to collect Uzumaki.” The mask says. At least it’s not the one that hurt her.

“I understand,” Her mother replies. “Naruto-kun!”

Naruto stands from where they’ve been peeking around the doorframe. Lee follows him.

“If it is alright, ANBU-san, I would like to walk home with Naruto-kun!” He says. “I wish to ensure he returns home safely before going back to the Orphanage.”

The mask tilts his head. “This is permissible. Come.”

“Wait.” Naruto says, stopping before the threshold. “Where’s Mayu-chan’s Otou-san? He’s never this late. He even missed dinner.”

“That is not relevant.” The mask says, trying to grab Naruto’s arm. “Come.”

“No!” Naruto ducks back into the house, hiding behind Okaa-sama’s legs. “I wanna know where Mayu’s Otou-san is! I’m not going until I know!”

Okaa-sama shrugs helplessly but makes no move to pull Naruto out from behind her. “Please sir, we’re all just worried about my husband. If we could have some word of his whereabouts—even if he’s in hospital—?”

The mask goes very still.

“Ketsugi Jirou is currently being held in custody of Konoha’s Interrogation department. He will be released once he cooperates with questioning regarding today’s incident.”

Then he rips Naruto away from Okaa-sama, grabs Lee, and vanishes in a whirl of leaves.

And all she can do is watch as her mother slowly sinks to the floor.

She begins crying in the still-open doorway.

[xathia-89]

Psychiatry vs. Sociology

This is for @whatdoyouexpectthistime for being a complete dear with her donation to me. 

MEGA SLOW BURN THAT DOES END IN NSFW. I NEARLY STRANGLED MYSELF FOR WHAT HAPPENS. This is also nearly 6.5k, so it’s not a short read. 

Shingen was idly thumbing the latest journal collections, the newest library assistant was a girl in his third-year class who was eager to impress him it seemed, going as far to get a subscription to Critical Sociology and practically begging for him to come down to see it. He'd mentioned a couple of articles during his lectures, and now the girl seemed to think it was an excellent way to get his attention. His fluff reddish hair was catching the autumn light through the glass as a passing woman caught his attention.

She immediately headed for the medical section that dominated a wall. A new face, and the way she held herself told the professor that she wasn't another student. She had a clipboard in hand, checking off a list as she worked her way through the journals. A serious frown on her face was making her look adorable, as she had tuned out everything going on around her.

Her hair was gathered at the nape of her neck in a low ponytail, and the shirt and trousers she was in were a perfect fit. It was all just screaming for her to capture his attention in how she was presenting herself.

"Professor Ito," one of the other medical professors appeared from nowhere. A short and spiky blonde who was renown for his bluntness, Professor Ieyasu Tokugawa who looked irritated probably because he had to leave his office.

"Ieyasu," her response was soft and the way her face lit up as she practically ran to him, not that Shingen missed the speed that Tokugawa was heading for her as well. "I told you I was coming down here to review the journals." Her smile would make the angels weep, it was so pure and radiant and would blind anyone with her innocence.

"You know I don't like you out of my sight, "Ieyasu had briefly pulled her into the stack for some privacy, but it wasn't hard to imagine what they were doing from her soft giggles.

"You're just oblivious," Ieyasu huffed in response to her low voice, the words escaping Takeda's reach.

Shingen left with a clatter, annoyed by how he was feeling at the revelation by the pair. It bothered him how much it was lingering in his mind, or more specifically the way her face lit up at Ieyasu's voice when he interrupted her.

He did a little digging on the intranet, found out that she was a new hire and one that came with glowing recommendations from her studying universities. A psychiatric professor, she seemed to have it all, the looks and the brains. A shining new individual to the lecturing profession and Ieyasu held her attention of all people. It was a bitter pill to swallow for Shingen, but then he was disturbed by a knock to his office door.

"Shingen!" Kojuro Katakura was the deputy head of the Humanities and Social Sciences department, and he was looking a little flushed. "I'm sorry, I hope I wasn't disturbing anything. There's a meeting that's happening in ten minutes that we need you to attend with the psychiatry department of the medical school."

"Why me?" Takeda couldn't help but be suspicious, especially given his recent discovering of one of the new hires.

"You were specifically requested by a Professor Ito; apparently she thinks you are the best person for the role."

***

Shingen was naturally late, he had taken time to make sure he was at least prepared as he walked into the meeting room in the medical school nearly fifteen minutes late. Her smile was one of enormous relief, and then Ieyasu scoffed decisively and rolled his eyes at the older male's relaxed attitude.

"I'm glad you could make it Professor Takeda," her voice was like honey on satin.

"I can only apologise that I didn't get the message in appropriate timing," he couldn't help but be charming.

"This could make Professor Ito's career," it was surprising to see her boss, Nobunaga Oda, present and not off making grand gestures. "I was more than a little reluctant to allow her to pursue this with you as the equal parts named writer," he shrugged. "To be perfectly honest, I would have taken anyone else in the Sociology department over you, but Professor Ito was adamant that your work is peerless and that the only way to make her work reach the journals would be to join with someone such as yourself."

"This doesn't sound very beneficial for me, you must admit," Shingen coldly replied, trying to avoid looking at the woman.

"Because he's trying to goad you into walking away," the way she huffed was too cute. "It's a 50/50 on this idea of mine, but right now it's simply just that. I can't give the idea it's all, and it stands to make a new revolution in the way of thinking between psychiatry and sociology in regards to mental health. Your name already makes waves, if you're willing to hear me out and work with me on this paper then maybe we can start to understand the brain's state a little better and start to help people."

It was something she believed in. The way her emerald eyes shone, it was almost hypnotising as Shingen found himself nodding in agreement. Her face lit up like a Christmas Tree that had just been plugged in after eleven months of darkness, and it was dazzling the man. Ieyasu was sulking still next to her, but saying nothing as Nobunaga merely shrugged at the scene.

"Then I suppose we will need to be planning for our sabbaticals next year," Takeda tilted his head, trying to not smile too widely at her eagerness.

"I was hoping we could start on the basics this year as well," her blush was too adorable. His heart was threatening to burst out of his chest at the sight of her naivety of researching with different departments, especially in regards to which professors were chosen.

"Of course, I would be glad to meet up and discuss the theory you have over dinner one evening perhaps?" Seeing Ieyasu and Nobunaga both start to tense up was worth accepting the job, it was fun to irritate the two, even more so when Professor Ito beamed and nodded eagerly. "I have a lecture finishing at 7pm on Tuesday, we could go from there to the small Italian on the corner of the road?"

"I have a lecture to give until 8pm on Tuesday, how about Thursday? I finish at 6pm," she looked so regretful that she couldn't accommodate him straight away.

"I have a lecture until 5pm, so I don't see why that would be a problem," Shingen agreed. "I shall look forward to then, Professor Ito."

"Natsuki," she corrected, a dark blush on her cheeks as they stood up from their chairs. She was going to be a fun one at least to occupy his time.

***

Shingen cancelled his Thursday's afternoon lecture, much to the relief of his students. He was trying very hard to ensure that he wasn't spotted or recognised by any of the psychiatry students as they all filtered in to the lecture that had Professor Ito listed. The hall was a small one, but there wasn't an empty seat in the house. The males were gossiping around him about how the trousers she wore gave them all a good idea of what an ass she had on her, before making a lewd comment about Freud and laughing. He made a mental note to smack the hell out of them later and show them how to treat a lady as he was comfortable towards the back of the lecture theatre, a pad of paper and pen ready though it was more a facade so he could understand more about her as a professor than about the subject.

The whole hall was stunned into silence, she was wearing a skirt for the first time in forever, and it looked more than a little amazing on her. Shingen heard the boys begin to shuffle about in their seats and all the attention was on Natsuki for sure.

She was more than a little dedicated to her job. Every question was answered with enthusiasm, and no student hesitated to say they didn't understand. She was handy with pausing her presentation and bringing up a blank word document to demonstrate what she meant until the whole room understood. It was tempting to consider changing subjects as their eyes locked and she froze mid-sentence towards the end of her lecture.

"Professor Takeda, what a surprise," she gave a small but genuine smile as he chuckled and waved in response. "I imagine today has been enlightening for you so far?"

"I have found myself in awe of some of your teachings, and more curious for what is to come," Shingen praised and smiled at the blush on Natsuki's face. "But don't let me stop you."

It only took her ten minutes to wrap up, and then all of the girls were lingering to oogle the Sociology professor. He was waiting for Natsuki to finish up with a few private questions on essays, before his arm was around her waist and guiding her out of the room, enjoying the fact that gossip was now going to fly around the university and irritate the hell out of Ieyasu and Nobunaga. It was going to make things more interesting as he steered them towards the restaurant just off campus where he had the booking.

After placing the orders, and the waitress left them alone, Natsuki was a blushing mess all over again.

"I didn't realise you had time to come and listen to my lecture," she was embarrassed and refusing to meet his eye, instead choosing to dip her gaze down to the notepad with her theory scrawled across it.

"I made the time. I figured it would be worth seeing what you teach before meeting you like this," Shingen couldn't help but flirt and charm the woman, she was too much of an easy target, and she made it impossible to resist. "Something I am very glad I found time to do as well after today's subject."

"I am glad you enjoyed yourself, but I would appreciate you not sneaking in on me like that, some of the students on my course are easily distracted it seems," her smile was a little strained.

"You're referring to the group who refused to leave because I was lingering," Takeda corrected her, openly studying the woman while she was refusing to meet his gaze.

"Teenagers are highly charged with hormones," she muttered in an attempt at self-defence.

"I must admit, seeing Professor Tokugawa so taken with someone is a strange thing," he purposely changed the topic, and it made her look at him quizzically. "You must have been dating him a while."

Her laugh was musical and made his heart threaten to stop.

"He's my cousin. My mother threatened him that if he didn't look after me while I was still finding my feet, then she would beat him all the way back to Ozazaki from here," she beamed brightly. "You were in the library when I first started, and I came to look at the resources," she looked too cute the way she had that inquisitive look on her face.

"I assumed from the way he was following you and scolding you that you were dating," Shingen admitted with a raised eyebrow.

"He panics constantly. I was given a lecture for accepting this meal," she added before pausing as their drinks arrived. "Speaking of, I wanted to go through my thesis instead of discussing my personal life, since this is going to make up our time together for the next eighteen or so months."

"I'm all ears."

***

It was an engaging subject matter. The correlation between prescription medications and therapy used to combat depression and anxiety in relation to the most deprived areas of society. It was going to be a tough one, but Natsuki had an idea that maybe there was another way out instead of just trying to treat the problem, instead to look at educating before it became a problem. But she openly admitted that she didn't know enough about society and things outside of the health side of things to ensure she was doing the right thing and arguing correctly. She wanted to make it as foolproof as possible, but she also knew that a good response would allow for her to grow as a lecturer. She didn't want to invite being brushed aside because of a flaw when she could be challenging to the establishment.

Natsuki also admitted that writing with a man would give her more credit then if she had chosen another woman. It was an awful thing, but it was the truth. The world they lived in was incredibly old school and traditionalist, to be taken seriously as a woman, she needed to leech off Shingen's gender and standing in Sociology.

He found himself looking forward to their Thursday night meetings. It had devolved from the restaurant to meeting rooms and take out ordered on delivery, but it got the job done. Shingen occasionally received emails from Ieyasu, threatening him to keep things in his pants as it began to dawn on the Sociology professor that he was gently refusing any interest instead of letting it linger as the first term was coming to an end. Their research was off to a slow start, as any sizeable project would be, but it never seemed to dampen Natsuki's spirits. She always had a smile that lit up the room despite the dark days, and it appeared to be getting later and later as they parted from their weekly meetings. It was just work, she's devoted to her studies and this chance at publication, Shingen had just to remind himself as he placed their usual order from the Chinese during the last week of term. All of the students would be going home on Saturday and leaving the professors with a chance to prepare for lectures and exams in advance.

"It doesn't feel like it's been three months already," Natsuki smiled as Shingen placed the bag on the table top, the secretaries in the Sociology department had given up on saying the food wasn't allowed and usually just made sure there was enough cleaning equipment for them.

"The next three weeks will be the strangest," Shingen smiled, trying to hide the dull ache in his chest, and turned his head as he missed the look of hope on Natsuki's face.

"I'm not going home for the holidays, half of the family is away-" she began, before trying to catch her words together. "I have a place on my own that we could use to keep going since this will be shut up?" She was looking so awkward, and out of her comfort zone, her emerald eyes focused on the floor.

Takeda thought his heart was going to stop him breathing. It had leapt into his throat at the adorable manner in which she offered.

"We could, I share with a few other professors, so there's not likely to be the most privacy," Shingen smiled. "I'm almost certain your cousin will have words for us, however."

"Possibly. He can't have words about what he doesn't know about," she had a light laugh and a devious expression.

Shingen was smacked with a fact that caught him off guard. He was in love with this woman. He had to keep things together for the sake of her career, sleeping with someone who you were writing a paper with would do nothing but smear her reputation and any chance at making an imprint on the world. Behaving was never at the top of Shingen's list, but for the sake of her career, he was more than willing to keep his hands to himself.

Not that Natsuki was making it easy. Her apartment was small, a living room and kitchen combined into one, with a bedroom and bathroom off from it, but it was privacy at its finest at least. She looked nothing like she did at the university, an oversized hoodie and leggings and invited him in without a thought, while her hair was loose and swaying around her shoulders freely.

"Is that… duck I smell?" Shingen paused in the middle of unwrapping his jacket and scarf.

"I had the time, so I figured that cooking would taste a little better than take out," Natsuki blushed, crouching in front of what could be assumed to be the oven. "You said you live with other professors, so I assume you don't cook a lot and thought you would appreciate a home cooked meal." She was getting redder with each word, and it was tugging on Shingen's heart. His chest was so heavy as he hung up his jacket on the hooks behind him.

"I can't wait to taste it," he smiled and tried to ignore how much of an effect it had on the woman.

They passed the time with idle chatter, with the positioning of the kitchen in the corner of the room meant that at least Natsuki could keep an eye on the food as she began to fry the noodles up and prepare the last of the food.

It was such a homely scene. Shingen was surprised that wine had been produced, and that Natsuki seemed so natural in her movements. She had been a little robotic when he first arrived, but now she was plating the food up as though this was something that happened all the time. She brought the dishes over with a smile, and then went back to fetch her wine glass.

"Oh, wow," her eyes were wide as she stared out of the window. It was a thick blizzard, and snow had already piled up swiftly outside.

"Heh, that should be interesting," Shingen paused, before smiling at Natsuki to get her attention again. He was getting jealous of mother nature for stealing her attention, this was starting to get ridiculous, no woman had this effect normally. "Anyway, I would hate for your efforts to go to waste, shall we?"

The snow had shown no signs of stopping as Shingen was texting Yukimura and Sasuke to let them know where he was. And Yukimura had assumed the worst as well, saying that he was going to make things worse for his department if he didn't behave. Sasuke reported back that the weather should calm down by the morning and he would be able to come and get him. Natsuki was thoroughly embarrassed as Ieyasu was now yelling at her on the phone about having someone over without telling him first. She had no intention of telling him, but Ieyasu had picked up on Shingen's voice in the background and seemed to assume the same as Yukimura.

"Anyone would think I wasn't to be trusted," Shingen smiled, fully planning to nap on her sofa in the living room, but then the way that Natsuki was acting was making him slightly nervous.

"It took weeks for the girls in that Thursday class to stop looking for you after you sat in on it," she admitted with a low voice and a soft blush on her cheeks. "And all I keep hearing about you is how I shouldn't let my guard down around you, because I will just get hurt. You'll just swoop in, rush me off my feet and then dump me at the first convenience. Because it's all you've ever done," her pause gave his heart time to set to stone and sink. "But then we've been meeting up for weeks, and you've been nothing but a perfect gentleman. And I heard about the ones who you turned down instead of stringing them along, and…" Shingen wasn't sure how they had gotten so close, it all seemed so rehearsed and silver screen like, but he had been drawn in by her words. He wanted to touch her, more than anything he wanted to kiss her, but she had a bright career ahead of her, she didn't need his grubby hands on her as Shingen forced himself to pull back. "I'll get you a blanket and some spare clothes I have from an ex," she stiffly said, heading straight for the bedroom as the Sociology professor was failing to ignore the feeling of his stone heart cracking.

Things were more than a little awkward the following morning as Natsuki made coffee and some porridge for breakfast. She had spent half the night crying, it was impossible to have not heard it through the thin walls, and it had taken a lot of effort for him to resist going in and telling her she wasn't worth his tears. She was back to discussing the research, keeping a professional front as they were waiting for Sasuke to arrive with the 4x4 that was kept for these occasions. Shingen had to give the woman her due, she was stronger than he was.

"Nothing happened, I'm not giving her a chance at ruining her career," Shingen said the second the pair were back on the road.

"I just hope you haven't ruined the research as well," the astrophysicist countered.

***

She kept a physical distance from him, and her smiles weren't as full as before the incident. She was pleasant as always, and they kept meeting on the Thursday evenings until he received an email from Ieyasu saying that something had happened in the family and she wouldn't be available for further notice.

Thursdays used to be the highlight of the week. Now he was sat in the Sociology department on his own going through research for the paper for the third week in a row, and it was getting close to ten pm. He had worked later, but it usually had been in the presence of his home comforts. A loud sigh escaped him, and then the sound of the door opening surprised him.

"I didn't think you would continue on your own," Natsuki sounded more than a little tired before she came to glance over the work.

"Ieyasu said you had family problems," Shingen knew he had no right to ask or interfere, but he couldn't resist when his defences hadn't been expecting her to turn up.

"My parents being asses. Nothing new," she brushed off while picking up something he had found with a frown. "What journal is this from?"

"Your parents being asses mean you go home on emergency leave for three weeks?" Shingen paused and frowned at her, ignoring that she was trying to work.

"What does my personal life mean to you? You made it quite clear over Christmas that I am not to your liking," Natsuki scoffed. "I'm obviously not peroxided enough or full of something that isn't natural-"

He couldn't stop himself. She was so angry, and at that moment so precious and beautiful. He was kissing her, repeatedly and making sure to strangle any noises that she didn't think she wasn't good enough for him.

She was clinging to his jacket as his arms wrapped around her waist. He needed her close before slowly breaking off the kiss to catch his breath and thoughts.

"You are an ass," her voice was sulky and too cute not to kiss her forehead in response. "I spent months thinking I wasn't good enough for you." Her head was resting against his chest.

"I was trying to keep my hands off you," Shingen gave a low chuckle. "I didn't want to make your career harder." He wasn't letting her go, holding her close as he breathed in the smells of public cross country transport in her hair. "Do I get to know what your parents were up to now?"

"You're a royal pain in the ass," she thumped him squarely in the chest but made no attempt to disentangle herself from him. "They were trying to arrange a marriage for me, unfortunately for them, it's illegal to marry me off without me being there and consenting. So I was spending my time off making things very difficult for them."

"I'm rather glad you did," Shingen couldn't help but smile at her spirit and determination, making Natsuki glance up at him with narrowed eyes. "Well, I'd have to break up your marriage otherwise." He laughed, ignoring that Natsuki was now hitting him in the arms for his awful sense of humour.

***

Shingen was navigating the bends and twists of the medical building with increasing confusion. Why all of the students had chosen that day to descend on the campus had him thoroughly confused, but no less determined as a couple of the girls noticed him and began their usual tactics. All of the medical building was packed with an array of worried expressions, and everyone seemed to be loitering about to try and get hold of Natsuki. Her office door was locked, and the students were trying to tell him that she wasn't in.

A slender hand reached out from behind the now open door and pulled Shingen through an impossible gap, and the door was locked again before anyone else could get through.

"What on earth is going off?" Shingen asked, grateful to be able to take a seat after finally getting through the masses.

"Results have been posted, but there's a problem with the system, so everyone is waiting for the secretaries to get hold of all of the written marks and get them handed out, but the students all think we have access to the results, so we've had to lock ourselves away for the past few hours," she sighed. "I forgot today is Thursday."

"Yeah, we were meant to meet at the library," the Sociology professor smiled before looking at Natsuki carefully.

"Sorry, a bit out of my control," she offered a weak smile. "And you're also now stuck here until the results are sorted out."

"How badly did it mess up? It can't have been that bad," Shingen paused, tilting his head.

"Well, apparently most of the students failed or scraped a pass. Not something medical students ever want to do," Natsuki sighed. "Ieyasu keeps emailing me to say he's with Nobunaga and they're working with the secretaries but there's more than just a handful to sort, and of course it's all done by codes and numbers, so that needs matching to the names," she rolled off, her body heavily hitting the back of her chair before the hammering at her door started again. "I can't do anything so there's nothing I can do except stress myself and my students out," she groaned.

Shingen decided to play a game. Standing up he unlocked and opened the door, blocking everyone from entering the office, and he had a giant smile on his face. Natsuki had gone pale in seconds, but now she was seeing his recklessness in person.

"So, I understand there's a problem with the results?" He asked pleasantly.

"Yes," several voices scowled back.

"And what can Professor Ito do about it?" He continued. "Since as professors we aren't allowed to keep hold of papers or exams, they have to go to the department secretaries so that grades cannot be changed by professors and to ensure that everyone is held to the same level of accountability," his smile never faltered, but there was the underhand of a threat in his tone. "Now, your professors have all been stuck in their offices for several hours because you all don't seem to think outside of yourselves. May I suggest that you all go outside and allow them to possibly help with the department head in retrieving the exams and marks from the central holding point so you can all get your results quicker?"

It was amazing to watch the anger just seem to disappear and to get replaced with the realisation of the situation, then they started to mutter and trickle out.

Natsuki dashed past Shingen and hit the nearest toilet without hesitation much to his amusement before he was loitering mostly to watch the other professors do similar things.

"I don't think I can thank you enough for that, they wouldn't listen to us," Natsuki smiled after coming back out.

A kiss to her forehead nearly sent the woman into meltdown, before he took her hand in his and pulled her into him. She was shaking against his chest. Her fear had been building up during the utter chaos, and now she was full of the adrenaline.

"Let's sit back down in your office," he gently murmured, leading her away from anyone else. He wanted to protect her in that moment of vulnerability and shield her from the world as he locked the door behind him. He was cradling her against him, her head buried against his chest as he could feel all of her worries start to fall out. He just cuddled her, rubbing her back and holding her dear as he let her calm down in her own time.

***

The end of term was always chaos. Especially since Natsuki was dealing with some of the first and second years, who were voicing their disappointment that she wasn't going to be present for their next year. Her office had a slew of traffic, and Shingen was highly amused as he pressed his way through to the front, and then locked everyone out with a grin to his partner. Natsuki laughed and shook her head.

"Natsuki! I know I saw Takeda just then!" Ieyasu was nearly as fun to irritate as Yukimura and Kenshin it seemed, as Natsuki slapped her hand over Shingen's mouth. The naughty glimmer in her eyes made his heart somersault.

"Yes, we're just going to study some anatomy!" She lightly replied, keeping her body close and only moving her hand to kiss the sociology professor.

The footsteps were leaving down the tiny corridor that her office was at the end of, her giggles barely being contained in her kisses.

"You, my goddess," Shingen slowed the pace of the last kiss, making sure to drag his teeth over her lower lip. "Are a world full of trouble."

"Maybe, but I do recall a discussion several weeks back," she murmured, her breath hot on his lips. "And I thought we should compare to see how reality hampers on the pleasure of the fantasy."

"I love it when you talk science."

Her lips were back to smothering his as her hands pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting the item fall to the floor as she pulled on his tie to guide him back towards the desk with her. Shingen was able to break apart for long enough to see she had already cleared it in preparation, and now his trousers were far too tight. He groaned and kissed her harder, swiftly picking her up and dropping her arse onto the wooden surface as she had already made quick work of undoing his shirt and tie, though she was content to just tease him now by sliding the material of the tie around his skin.

Shingen growled low in his throat, grazing his teeth over her exposed neck as her bra went flying. She was biting on her lips, desperate to make as little noise as possible as she had her legs locked around his waist, grinding against him in excitement and dragging her nails down his still covered back. Everything she was doing was on purpose to just build him up since she clearly had no intention of removing his trousers just yet.

Her giggles were intoxicating as she yanked sharply on his hair, pulling him away from her. The way her emerald eyes lit up made him fall harder for her, and there was nothing to resist for certain as Takeda fiercely attacked her with another kiss, scrunching her skirt up swiftly and ripping her tights before the woman could register any kind of complaint. His fingers wasted no time in delving into her waiting cunt, moaning softly as she squeezed around his digits, and thrust her hips forward to plunge more of them in.

"Fuck, you naughty girl," Shingen groaned, "You're soaked from this already, and you skipped your panties," he couldn't resist himself. Her hands were dragging down his back as his shirt dropped off his shoulders and he was determined to keep her distracted. His teeth were grazing over her lips as he finally won the battle with his belt and trousers, before freeing his cock from his boxers.

Natsuki whined at the loss of contact from his fingers, before moaning in delight at the stretch his member sated her with. It had taken more than a few goes for her to adjust to his girth, but he knew how to use it as her nails dug into his shoulder blades.

"You're wetter than usual," Shingen's voice was low as he was trying not over to stimulate himself in the heat of the moment.

"I'm so close, I don't think my imagination even came close to this," the woman sighed, nipping at his ear as her heels dug slightly into his backside as her pussy tightened around him at the slightest of movements.

"You're so naughty," the Sociology professor breathed out, lowering her back against the desk. It left her open to his manipulations as Shingen began to slowly pull his cock out, ignoring his lover's whines of complaint, though the way her breasts arched into his hands was a sight to behold. He could feel her heart pounding in excitement as he continued his teasingly slow strokes, letting her fingers slide over her clit as she began to buck her hips enthusiastically.

"Please, Shingen," her quiet moans of complaint were too much for him to resist. His touch dragged over her stomach, loving the feeling of her ragged breaths before settling on her hips. Her fingers were already manipulating her clit, pinching and teasing the nub as he couldn't refuse her will any longer.

He had adjusted the angle slightly, knowing that he could help her better by lifting her hips a little as he swiftly began to pound into her. Natsuki had to bite down on her arm to stifle the noises she was making, this was the only problem Shingen had so far as to watch her physically come undone before him was a sight that he would never tire of. Her pulsing cunt was too much stimulation, as his climax washed over him like a tidal wave. His thrusts were sloppy, but to see her looking so pleased was worth every bit of discomfort that he would need to deal with after this.

***

The year out had been more than a little successful. The article was just going through editing by the university now since it was the general reputation at stake, and the new apartment was coming along nicely.

"Professor Ito is back! But I can't see her name anywhere," a few of the students were hissing as Natsuki glanced over her shoulder with a smile while in the library.

"How do you know she's back then? Maybe she moved on?" A now third-year student was sounding more than a little disappointed.

"Because I saw her in the department, and the other professors mentioned she was starting back here again this year for a little while or something," the other student snorted back in hushed voices. "But she's not listed on any of the lectures."

"Wasn't she involved with some other professor from the Sociology department?"

"That was just for the paper they were working on."

It made her grin before Shingen had managed to sneak up on her from behind, and wrapped her up in his arms.

"Shingen," she scolded, trying not to laugh too loudly. "We're at work!"

"Mm, your students haven't realised then?" He murmured, ignoring her valid complaint and stroking her protruding stomach as he waited for a response from their little boy.

"They will when I walk into my first lecture. Never mind what happens when my maternity kicks in," Natsuki sighed and shook her head. "I thought you were staying at home to look at the nursery?"

"It's done, the packages arrived early so I thought I'd come and torment you because you have actually to do some work," he smiled.

"You're so mean," she shook her head, managing to disentangle herself before going back to look at the journals. "It was here, wasn't it? Two years ago?"

"And you look more stunning now then you did then."

"Smooth talker."

"Professor Ito!" A small group of medical students descended on them, beaming broad smiles on their faces.

"About that-" Natsuki looked slightly embarrassed before turning to face them, and stunning just about the whole library who had now turned to get a good look.

Her five and a half month bump had the room stumped, and then the white gold band on her left ring finger, with a simple diamond engagement ring accompaniment was the icing on the cake.

"It's Professor Takeda on your schedules," Natsuki was blushing bright red in embarrassment as the Sociology students were more than a little distraught as they overheard the news. It was impossible to miss how happy Shingen was as his arm was around his wife's waist and bringing her against him for a kiss to her forehead.

"It's not a new professor after all!" The students were now filtering out, eager to spread the gossip like wildfire. "No wonder there was a change of nameplate on her office."

"I am going to kill you for making such a spectacle," she scolded the second that they had some quiet on the way back out of the library.

"Well, your family nearly lynched me when we found out you were pregnant," he grinned. "And we only married a few weeks ago, so it's still new and it won't stop me from showing you off."

"It was the least romantic proposal ever," Natsuki laughed as the two were walking back towards the medical building. "Ieyasu dragged you up to the front of our apartment and asked what you were doing about the fact I was now pregnant."

"'If Natsuki would have me as her husband then I'll marry her,'" Shingen grinned broadly, kissing the psychiatry professor on the cheek. "I have to go and check in on my students, see that they aren't all melting because I got married so suddenly," he laughed.

"Don't send them to me," Natsuki shook her head with a knowing smile before they parted, both amused by the speed of student gossip.

[lainelannister]

So as I mentioned earlier today...I did some #MeToo-inspired re-writing to an old modern AU of mine, “Slayers and Stones”. You’ll find the edited version below- I’d love any feedback anyone can provide! If you’ve read the old version, I’d love to hear if the edits are working for you...and if this is your first time reading, those responses are also super valuable!

Her father calls her into his study early in the morning, a rare smile on his serious face as he passes her a laminated name badge.  “Your internship begins tomorrow.”

 Sansa looks down at the red-and-gold tag.  The Lannister Inc. logo emblazoned across the top, her pseudonym  (“Alayne Stone,” she likes the sound of it well enough) in bold font below, and beneath that...

 “Marketing and PR?”  She cannot keep a dark frown from pulling at her lips; Lannister Inc. has a top-notch corporate analysis program, and she’d hoped that she might have a chance to experience it first-hand...

 But of course, this isn’t strictly a learning experience, is it?

 “It’s the best place for you.  You’ll be privy to every nasty rumor that passes through that place, which is very, very useful to us.”  Ned Stark still wears his smile, but it has yet to reach his eyes- corporate espionage is not attractive to him, and if not for Jon Arryn’s urging, she doubts that he’d be encouraging her to do this in the first place.  

 “Besides, the PR department handles press releases, events, parties...it would be the most fun for you, love.”  

 Sansa grinds her molars together at that; she may have graduated cum laude from Bryn Mawr with plans to start at Harvard Business School in the fall, but in her father’s eyes, she’ll always be that giggly, vapid seventeen year old, throwing a tantrum because another girl wore the same dress to the prom.  

 But she just smiles back and nods.  “I’m sure you’re right, Daddy.  I’ll go and do my best.”

 “That’s my girl.”  And in spite of her annoyance, Sansa feels a flush of pride at her father’s affectionate words, and she eagerly steps into his open arms and lets him hug her tight.

-

“You’ll fit right in over at Lannister.  They’ve got a thing for blondes.”

 Sansa glares at her brother, who leans casually against the doorframe of her bedroom.  She reaches up to run a self-conscious hand through her newly-highlighted hair; auburn curls now shine strawberry-blonde, and she has yet to become used to it.   

 When she doesn’t answer, Robb steps into the room and crosses his arms over his chest, a bright smile on his handsome face.  “What are you planning to wear?”

 “That.”  She gestures to her closet door, where she’s hung the sensible pantsuit that her mother gave her right after graduation- “Classic, good for interviews,” Catelyn Stark had said.   

 Robb plucks at the fabric before shaking his head in distaste.  “Sansa, I’ve been to Lannister Inc.  You can’t wear that...you’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

 It’s not like her brother to pay attention to women’s fashion; the novelty of the conversation is enough to hold Sansa’s interest.  “It’s a high-powered corporation.  You’re telling me that the women don’t wear business suits?”

 “They do...but not like that.”  She’s starting to understand his implication, and her cheeks blush, just a little.

 “Then what should I wear, Robb?”   

 To her surprise, her brother opens her closet door and begins to rifle through her clothing.  It’s a comical sight, and she laughs.

 “You seem to know your way around a girl’s closet.  Do you pick out outfits for Jeyne, too?”

 He makes some retort, but his head is buried deep enough in the closet that she cannot make out the words.  Finally, he re-emerges, passing her a set of hangers and a pair of shoes.  

 “There.  That’s what you should wear.”

 Sansa huffs an incredulous breath through her nose- her brother has selected a black cocktail dress, short and tight.  The other hanger holds a fitted black blazer, and the shoes are four-inch stiletto heels.

 “What, is Lannister, Inc. an elaborate cover for a fancy prostitution ring?”   

 Robb rolls his eyes and smirks before heading to the door.

 “Fine, don’t listen to me.  But you’ll go there tomorrow, and you’ll see that I was just trying to help.”

 When Robb leaves, Sansa evaluates her options.  And with a beleaguered sigh, she places the sensible pantsuit back in her closet.   

 - 

 When she arrives at the skyscraper that houses Lannister Inc., Sansa realizes that Robb was completely correct.  There are more svelte, leggy blondes here than there are at Conde Nast, everyone dressed to the nines.  And not just the women; every man here looks like he walked off the set of a GQ photo shoot.  She thinks for a moment of the lax dress code at Stark Incorporated: her father’s worn Frye boots, Robb’s polo-and-khaki uniform, Theon’s leather jacket.  The comparison makes her giggle under her breath.

 After a brief meeting with Kevan Lannister, the head of HR (an older, somewhat stern man, but pleasant enough), she’s ushered into the office of Genna Frey, the director of marketing.  She takes a seat beside a handsome blonde man who appears about her age; her heartbeat skips when he smiles at her and asks her name, but the excitement quickly abates when he continues to speak, and she realizes how dreadful, pompous, and unpleasant he is.  She makes a mental note to stay clear of this one ( Jeffrey, was it?) and turns her attention to the heavy-set, no-nonsense woman behind the wide mahogany desk.  

 The tasks she sets for the interns are very menial at first: archiving press clippings, calling publications to follow up on print deadlines.  Sansa is a good listener, always has been, but even her best efforts at eavesdropping reap few results.  She returns home each evening with dread building in her stomach, for she hates to look at her father and Uncle Jon night after night and tell them that no, she still hasn’t learned anything new.  Failure sits heavily on her shoulders and keeps her awake deep into the night.

 And yet she forces down coffee after coffee (even sneaking the occasional Adderall from Arya’s medicine cabinet) and throws herself into the work.  Tedious as it is, she strives to surpass the other interns, and when Ms. Frey lectures her co-workers, holding up Alayne’s work and declaring, “This is how you document.  I don’t want to see any more half-assed shit from you people, I want to see this ,” she blushes as brightly as she does at her father’s praise.

 Finally, at long last, Sansa receives a reward for her hard work.  There’s a meeting scheduled with the senior executives to discuss “the family matter”, and Genna invites her to come along and take notes.  

 (She does not invite Joffrey into the closed-door session, in spite of his Lannister blood, and Sansa feels a sudden admiration for Genna’s value of talent over nepotism.)

 Sansa is, of course, well acquainted with the PR disaster that has befallen Lannister Incorporated.  In fact, it would not exist at all without Ned Stark and Jon Arryn; they gained knowledge of the story from an executive at the Baratheon Corporation, and they’ve installed Sansa at Lannister to report on the fall-out.  

 Goosebumps prickle up and down her arms as she takes a seat beside Genna.  The CEO is not present- in the weeks since she started here, Sansa has never once seen the mysterious Tywin Lannister, and she finds herself imagining him as a disembodied head surrounded by smoke, like the Wizard of Oz.  But Kevan is here, along with CFO Petyr Baelish, Junior Vice President Tyrion Lannister, and Senior Vice President Jaime Lannister.

 Everyone at the table appears tense, but as she looks at the man seated directly across from her, she thinks that she’s never seen a person more drained and empty-looking than Jaime Lannister.  

 She’s noticed him before, of course, sauntering down the hallways in his perfectly-tailored Italian suits, golden hair neatly combed back, tall and confident and devastatingly handsome.  The junior associates whisper his legend in the break room and by the water cooler- he’s a ruthless, predatory raider, known for crushing smaller companies beneath his feet and pillaging the spoils.  “The Slayer,” they call him in tones of hushed reverence.  She’s watched with distaste as assistant after intern after associate tries to flirt with him, only to be rebuffed by a distant smile and words of cool courtesy.  He’s only spoken to Sansa once, asking to borrow a pen and Post-It.  But he winked at her when he handed the pen back, and she’s sure that the smile she gave him in reply was every bit as insipid as the ones she’d seen from all those other silly girls.

 But now he does not look at anyone.  He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes as Tyrion catalogues the leaked information.  And it is, as Genna would say, an absolute shitstorm.  The former junior vice president, Cersei Lannister, had listened to some extremely bad advice and made an absurd, careless power play for the company.  Her illicit dealings and failed investments cost Lannister Inc. millions of dollars, and reports of her questionable character and distasteful personal life brought shame and derision upon the mighty Lannister dynasty.  

 Tyrion concludes his report by informing everyone that Cersei has been removed from public view and will be unable to do any more harm to the family or the company.

 “Where is she?”  

 Jaime’s voice rings out rather more loudly than is appropriate, and no one can bring themselves to look at him.  

 (Sansa thinks of some of the more salacious rumors that Jon Arryn has drummed up about Cersei Lannister and her handsome brother, but Uncle Jon has always had a flair for the dramatic...)

 “It doesn’t matter, Jaime...”

 “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”  He turns on his brother, emerald-green eyes flashing with rage, and Tyrion, usually so poised and glib, actually appears a bit frightened.

 But the moment passes quickly, and the younger Lannister brother speaks in as even a tone as he ever does.  

 “I mean that we need to distance ourselves from her, for the sake of the company.  Any outward show of support would make us all look weaker...but if she’s just the bad egg, that’s something that could happen to any family.  She’s an embarrassment, and we need to acknowledge that.”

 Suddenly, Sansa feels a discordant twang in her stomach at the coldness of it all.  Yes, Cersei Lannister is a class-A fuck-up, but she’s still their sister, still one of them...and to just abandon her like that...

 Her voice sounds strange in her ears, as though it belongs to someone else.  “But she’s your sister.”  

 Every head whips around to stare at Sansa; Genna’s face glows red with rage as she mutters, “Alayne.  Be quiet.”

 “What was that, Miss Stone?” Tyrion asks.  

 She knows that she should shut up, that she must shut up.  But the words fall from her lips of their own accord- “She’s family...how can you just hide her somewhere and...and throw her away…?”

 “Alayne.  Go get my Starbucks order and leave it on my desk.   Now, ” Genna seethes.

 As she rises from her chair, trying and failing to keep from shaking, she happens to glance across the table.  Jaime Lannister watches her, beautiful eyes unblinking and intense.

 And then his lips curve into a smile.

 - 

 When she arrives at work the next day, Sansa finds herself immediately re-routed to HR.  Her stomach sinks; she hasn’t told her father about the disaster of yesterday’s meeting, and she has no idea how she’ll explain getting fired...

 But Kevan Lannister barely even speaks to her before directing her to a conference room.  “Go in, please,” he says.

 She mentally steels herself for an apoplectic Genna or a sneering Mr. Baelish, but she finds herself face to face with Brienne Tarth instead.

 Sansa took an immediate liking to Jaime Lannister’s executive assistant; she rejects the couture that is the office standard in favor of loose, comfortable suits (“Probably buys them at the Big and Tall Men’s Wearhouse,” one of the catty, pretty office drones once snarked), and she gives off an undeniable air of competence.  She’s calm, collected, capable, and discreet, and Sansa considers these qualities far more valuable than any pretty facade.

 “Please sit down, Miss Stone,” Brienne says, gesturing to a chair.  Sansa sits and waits for the other woman to continue.

 “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve just been promoted.”

 “Oh!  Congratulations,” Sansa replies, and Brienne’s pretty blue eyes crinkle in a grin.

 “Thanks.  It’s a great opportunity for me- I’ll be a junior associate in the Boston office.”  

 “Then you’re leaving?”

 “Yes, I move at the end of the week.  And that’s why I’ve called you in.”

 “Oh?”  Sansa lifts a brow in surprise, while her insides jiggle in a hopeful dance- maybe I’m not getting fired...oh, thank God...

 “The thing is, this all happened really suddenly, and HR’s been so backed up lately that they haven’t really had time to deal with new hires.  Finding a replacement for me will definitely be a long process, lots of interviews...I’ve been with Jaime for five years, and he’s...very particular.”  

 “Of course.”   Five years, that’s a long time...but it makes sense, he obviously relies on her so much...

 “Anyway, until we can find someone he’ll like, we need a person to sit at that desk and answer his phones and manage his calendar.  It will be a lot more hours than what you’re used to, at the same intern pay rate, so I completely understand if you don’t want to take on the added responsibility-”

 “You want me to be Jaime Lannister’s assistant?”

 She must be quite a sight- eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar- because Brienne laughs brightly before nodding.

 “He asked for you specifically.  Will you do it?”

 Sansa thinks of the locked folders on the company drive, filled with information only available to the top executives and their assistants- she imagines having access to Jaime’s calendar, intimate knowledge of the second-in-command’s comings-and-goings...she begins to salivate, and she swallows it down.

 A red-gold ponytail bobs up and down as she eagerly nods.  

 “Oh, yes.  Thank you.”

 - 

 She should have known better.  Sansa curses herself for her naivety; just because Jaime gave Brienne the password to the locked files doesn’t mean he’ll hand it over to a twenty-three year old intern he’s barely met.  She lets herself wallow in disappointment for a few brief moments, but then forces the feeling aside- there’s got to be another way.  She’ll just bide her time; she’s good at being patient.

 And so she fields phone calls and handles his e-mail correspondence and schedules meetings.  The scheduling is by far the most interesting part of the job; he’s on the board of numerous organizations, and every night is a different gala, a different opening night, a different photo op.  

 She’d seen his picture on Page Six that morning, taken at a heart-disease benefit the evening before.  He wore a tuxedo- he’s even better-looking in a tux than in a suit- and stood with his arm wrapped around his date’s narrow waist: Margaery Tyrell, the heiress to Highgarden Communications, beautiful and striking in Alexander McQueen.  The Lannister PR machine desperately wants New York to believe that Jaime and Margaery are romantically involved, but when she considers that she must always arrange for a separate car for Margaery at the end of these events, Sansa thinks it rather unlikely.

Maybe he’s gay, she thinks to herself as she returns from the dry cleaner and enters Jaime’s vacant office, hanging his tux on the door and placing the newly-shined dress shoes beneath it.   He certainly dresses well...and Margaery’s gorgeous, but he’s definitely not sleeping with her...

She crosses the room to water the little tree in the corner; Brienne schooled her carefully in the care and keeping of the plant.  

 She bends over to tip the watering can toward the back of the tree, and she does not hear the door open behind her.  When she stands upright, she locks eyes with Jaime, who watches her with a peculiar expression.  

 “I think it has enough water.  You’ve been very thorough.”  Sansa nods and places the watering can down as Jaime furrows his brow, gesturing to the tuxedo.

 “Where am I going tonight?”

 “The opera, Mr. Lannister,” she replies, taking a small step toward the door, in spite of the fact that he’s directly blocking her path.  

 “Fuck, that’s right.”  He rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand and sighs.  “Which one is it?”

 “’La Boheme’,” she replies.  

 “Hmm.  I haven’t seen that before.”

 “It’s beautiful,” Sansa volunteers with a soft smile.  “It’s one of my favorites.”

 “You like opera?”

 “Yes.”  She’s nearly at the door now, but he still hasn’t moved- she’s near enough to catch the scent of his cologne- musk and sandalwood- and her mouth begins to go dry... snap out of it, you’re being an idiot...

 “Duly noted.”  He grins at her, pivoting his body just enough to give her space to slide through the doorway, but not enough to keep her from brushing her chest against his arm as she tries to pass.  “I’ll get you tickets next time.”

 “I..I would like that very much.  Thank you.”

 When she closes the door behind her, Sansa falls into her chair and presses her palm to her heart.  She scowls at the quickness of the beats and restrains the urge to smack her head on the keyboard over and over again.

  -

 It’s nearly midnight, and she’s completely alone.  She’s sure of it- even the cleaning people have left for the weekend.  Still, her eyes dart about anxiously as she retrieves the zip drive from her purse and plugs it into her computer.  It will work...it has to work.

 Bran had been surprised, when she approached him to ask about computer hacking.  “I hack into gaming sites, Sansa,” he’d sighed with exasperation.  But the same principles must apply, she imagines- she adjusted the codes, tweaked the infrastructure on her own computer, saved it all to the drive.  And now she’ll be able to get into the locked files and secure her father some information far more valuable than the Cersei Lannister gossip.  

 Her toes tap and her fingers twitch with exhilaration- this is it, this is it, I’ll really prove myself now...

 So engrossed is she that she does not notice the door behind her swinging open, not until a low voice echoes through the empty office-

 “Still here, Alayne?”

 She shrieks, whirling her chair around.  Jaime stands in the doorway of his office, tie loosened and shirt untucked, a tumbler of scotch in one hand.  

 But no, I saw him leave for the museum gala, I called the car and got his tux...when did he have time to come back?  When I was in the bathroom, maybe...God, I should have checked his office first, stupid, stupid, stupid...

 She tries to push her self-loathing aside long enough to answer his question.  “Yes, Mr. Lannister.  Just trying to finish up the agenda for the next board meeting before the weekend.”

 “I appreciate your dedication,” he drawls with a smile.  “But can I persuade you to take a break?”

 He opens the door to his office wider and gestures to her to enter.  She hastily closes the open windows on her computer and complies, shutting the door behind her.  

 “Do you like scotch?” he asks.  She doesn’t really, but her brothers and uncle are fond of it, and she knows she can hold it down when necessary.

 When she nods, he fills another tumbler from a crystal carafe and hands it to her.  “It’s good, smooth.  Aged seventeen years.”  

She takes a sip, trying not to wince at the burn of the liquid as it courses down her throat.  

“Thank you.”  

He sits on the sofa at the corner of his office and nods pointedly to the space beside him.  As she lowers herself down, he removes his tie and tosses it on a side table, unfastening the top few buttons of his shirt.  Sansa fights to keep from staring at the glimpse of his chest left exposed...she takes another sip and regrets the squeakiness of her voice when she asks,

 “Why aren’t you at the gala?”

 Jaime replies with a dry laugh.  “I’m not in a very festive mood tonight.”  His eyes darken a bit, and Sansa is reminded of the calls she’d forwarded to him that day from the private investigator.   They still won’t tell him where she is, he has to hire his own detective...it’s insane.   

 She finds herself unable to keep the sympathy out of her expression when she nods.  His gaze sharpens, but his tone remains calm and still.

 “So, Alayne.  Are you enjoying yourself here?”

 “It’s a great opportunity for me.  I’m learning a lot.”

 “And what is it that you want to do?  What’s your big career dream?”

 Sansa answers with more candor than she originally intended.  “I want to go to business school, then become an analyst.  And eventually, I want to run a company like this one.”

 “Not exactly like this one, I hope,” he sniffs derisively.  “But you’re ambitious...everyone loves ambition here.  They eat, sleep, and shit ambition.”  

 He refills her glass before she has time to protest, and the hard set of his jaw prompts her to change the subject.

 She’s an easy conversationalist, and she turns the talk to music, art (he has an impressive collection), higher education.   He makes her laugh with stories of his undergrad fraternity days at Yale, recommends business schools (he went to Harvard himself, and she bites her lip to keep from revealing her acceptance and inundating him with questions).  And he keeps the liquor flowing, until Sansa drops her heavy head onto the back of the sofa, just a hairsbreadth away from his shoulder.

 “May I ask you something?”  She looks up at the clean profile of his face and breathes deeply, inhaling the scent of peat and alcohol and expensive cologne.

 “Whatever you like.”  

 “Why did you ask for me?  When you were picking an intern to help you, I mean.  Why me?”

 He reaches for her tumbler, and she relinquishes it.  After placing both his glass and hers on a nearby table, he reclines back against the sofa and runs a hand through his thick golden hair.  

 “It was what you said in the meeting that day.  About family...there are plenty of ambitious people around here, like I said.  Lots of smart people and driven people, but there aren’t a lot of compassionate people.”  He props his elbow on the back of the couch and leans closer; she can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and she inches nearer...

 “What you said...it was very human of you.  And that’s fucking refreshing.”

 Their knees are touching now; if she moves her head just a fraction, her brow will fall against his.  She sees the prickling of stubble along his jawline, the way his eyelashes become light at the tips. A lock of her hair falls across her face, and he reaches up to smooth it back behind her ear.  

 “You’ve got a lot of red in your hair,” he comments, twisting the strands around his finger.   “Very pretty.”

So, so tacky, a cutting voice reverberates at the back of her mind. Powerful executive trying to get into his young assistant’s pants...he honestly couldn’t be more cliche if he tried.

His mouth barely hovers over hers at this point. And she’s not sure whether it’s defiance against those bitter voices coursing through her head or simply a total lack of fear (a middle-aged guy acting inappropriate with an intern, even in this day and age...that’s just sad), but she figures that she has nothing to lose.

She tilts her chin up and brushes her lips against his.  Jaime cups her cheek in his hand, and the way he kisses her- soft, patient, gentle- stokes a fire in her belly, sending tingles up and down her limbs and between her legs.  

 Jaime’s tongue teases at the seam of her lips, and she opens her mouth for him willingly, knotting her fingers in his soft hair.  He massages her tongue with his, and when he wraps a strong arm around her and eases her down onto the sofa cushions, she’s almost embarrassed by the ease with which her legs fall to either side, giving him unambiguously-direct access.

 “Oh-” she sighs when she realizes that he’s settled his hips into the space between her thighs, his mouth lavishing attention on her neck, kissing and biting and sucking (enough to make her whimper and writhe, but not enough to leave marks- won’t have to break out the concealer, at least....).

It’s all moving along at an alarming pace, and the sensible side of Sansa, the one that regularly talked Arya down from her more fantastical flights of fancy and stopped Mya and Jeyne from becoming the subjects of especially-vicious high school gossip, urges her to slow things down-

“Mr. Lannister,” she begins (not very convincingly- she doesn’t actually want him to stop, although she knows it’s the right thing to do)-

“Jaime,” he pants into her skin, his tongue dipping into the groove of her collarbone.  “It’s Jaime.”

“Jaime,” she repeats- it’s a good name to whisper nearly breathless, a good name to sigh- she imagines herself screaming it as she comes, and she spreads her legs wider, quivering with anticipation.  

(And the practical part of her slinks into the wings, completely forgotten for the time being.)

Her nimble fingers slide between them, unfastening the buttons of his shirt.  Her hands roam over the perfectly-contoured muscles of his body, and she’s momentarily distracted by the thought of the personal-training appointments Jaime’s had her schedule for 4:30am every day. “Who gets up that early?” she’d asked Kevan’s assistant Joy after sharing this story at one of their impromptu mid-afternoon coffee breaks. Joy had replied with a smirk, rolling her green eyes as she muttered, “Someone with something major to prove.”

 He fingers the hem of her camisole, and she helps him pull it up over her shoulders, nearly surprised by her own lack of hesitation- she hasn’t been touched so intimately since she broke up with Harry almost a year ago, she should probably be more reluctant, more shy...

 But the way Jaime presses his face into her chest and softly kisses the tops of her breasts...the way he mouths her nipples through the thin cotton of her bra...the deft way he reaches beneath her to pull the hooks open- nothing like Harry at all.

 “You like that, don’t you?” he breathes as he scrapes his teeth over her left nipple.  She pulls his hair tight and whimpers in response, and he laughs, taking one breast in each hand and pushing them together until he can suck both nipples into his mouth at once.  

 She lets out a little peep of objection when he releases her breasts, but then his lips trail lower, skimming over her stomach, tongue swirling into her navel.  He lifts her skirt up and slides his fingers over her through her underwear, and she digs her nails into the leather of the sofa.

 When he replaces his fingers with his mouth, kissing her through her boy-shorts, she growls his name low in her throat, surprised by her own abandon. The tip of his tongue teases at her clit, and the warmth, the soft pressure, the friction of the fabric- she reaches down to grip his shoulder, scratching at the golden skin, while her other hand kneads her own breast.

 “Oh, please...”  she begins, but soon interrupts herself with a sigh of delight as he catches her underwear in his teeth and pulls them down her legs.  Jaime peppers soft kisses on her ankle, the inside of her knee, all up and down her inner thighs before spreading her folds and licking into her.  

 He’s slow and patient in his exploration, taking his time to discover the way she likes to be touched.  When he curls his fingers inside her just so, his tongue softly massaging her swollen outer lips before resting flat on her clit, she finds herself moaning just the way Harry always wished she would, bucking her hips up and feeling her wetness pool over his fingers and his lips.  

 He kisses his way back up her body and then captures her mouth- she licks her own release from his lips and tongue.  She can feel him pressed against her belly, and she quickly unbuckles and unbuttons until he’s in her hand, hot and hard.  Sansa kisses along his jaw and takes his earlobe in her mouth as she begins to stroke; her other hand pinches his nipple, and he grabs her hip tight and releases a breathy trail of obscenities.  

 Then she brings her hand to his face and looks him in the eye, those gorgeous cat’s eyes, set in this laughably-perfect face- “The Slayer”, they call him, he has no soul, no conscience...but would a man with no soul care so deeply for his disgraced sister?  Would a man with no soul place such a premium on compassion, on “human” behavior?  

 She kisses him again, hungrier than before, as she rubs the head of his cock against her.  He moans into her mouth- “Alayne”, and she tries not to feel a prick of sadness- and his hips start to shift-

 “Do you have a condom?” she thinks to ask him, just in time. His brows knit together, and she’s blessedly able to stop herself before she rolls her eyes. There’s something strangely vulnerable about him as he leans down to retrieve his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and fishes within until he finds a Trojan.

 “Not sure how long this has been there…” he begins, trying to sell the curve of his lips as a gesture of good humor...but he’s fragile in a way she can’t quite understand, and she chooses to be merciful.

She takes the rubber from him and tears the package open with her teeth, sprawling flat on her stomach to apply it with her mouth.

Once this crucial task is complete, she guides him into her and lifts her knees to her chest, savoring the deep thrusts, the hard grip of his hands on her thighs.

Jaime lifts her legs so that her ankles rest on his shoulders, and he lowers one hand to caress her, turning his head to kiss the side of her calf.  She comes again, even harder than before, and when he slides out of her, she wraps her hand around him and pulls off the condom before raining kisses over his shoulders and neck and chest until his ejaculate leaks over her fingers, pooling in the spaces between.

 They do not move right away, content to stay coiled around each other, exchanging leisurely kisses with generous tongue.  Sansa starts to truly consider what she’s done- this man is her father’s rival, a top executive in the company that Stark Incorporated is trying to destroy.

 And these facts shouldn’t make her want him more.  That’s childish nonsense...but there’s an appeal here that she can’t deny, can’t ignore.   Between the leather and the sandalwood and the musk and the scotch and this powerful, beautiful man sucking on her lower lip-

 But then she remembers the red zip drive conspicuously plugged into the side of her computer, and she pulls away.

 “I should finish up and go home,” she murmurs.  He does not object, but he keeps his arms around her as she tries to put her clothes back on, slowing down the process with his kisses and touches and wicked insinuations.

 After she slips her top back on and wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss, he whispers,  “Come home with me.  I want to fuck you in the back of the town car-” He brushes his lips beneath her ear- “-and in the elevator-” His stubble scratches at her collarbone as he moves down- “-and in every room in my apartment.”  He gently squeezes her breast, and she shifts closer, nearly sitting in his lap-

 But then she stops.  She pulls away and stands, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt.

 “Not tonight,” she replies with a soft smile.  He looks disappointed, but when she reaches down to brush an errant lick of golden hair out of his eyes, she can feel him smile against the thin skin of her wrist.

 “We ought to clean ourselves up,” she says, watching as he tucks his cock back into his pants and crosses toward the closet.  He drops a kiss on her shoulder as he passes her, opening the closet door and retrieving a clean white dress shirt.

 “Very sensible, I’m sure.”  He slides the shirt over his arms, and the fabric clings to his sweat-dampened chest as he fastens the buttons.  

 Before she loses her wits entirely, Sansa hastens out the door, shutting it behind her.

   She gathers her things quickly, shuts off the lights, powers down her computer (but not before ejecting the zip drive and slipping it back into her purse).  

 Jaime emerges from his office a few minutes later in perfectly-clean clothes, briefcase in hand.  He approaches her, graceful steps putting her in mind of a lion stalking its prey.  When he closes in on her, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist, her lower back pressed against the desk, she feels that she wants to be ravaged and savaged and ripped apart.   Of course, she reflects as she observes a thin scratch on his neck, courtesy of her sharp fingernails, I’d be able to give plenty of my own back, too.

 “Will you let me drive you home, at least?” he asks, and she forces her head into a vehement shake.

 “No, thank you.  The cabs are lined up around the block at this hour.”  She tries to straighten her posture, but he holds her fast against the desk.  Just one more, she thinks as she pulls his face down to hers, the force of the kiss pushing her up onto the desk, her leg rising to wrap around him again-

 A clatter of metal, and they both look down- she’s knocked her stapler and tape dispenser onto the floor.  They separate, and she leans down to retrieve the supplies.  When she stands back up, Jaime places a thumb on her lips, just a gentle pressure.  

 “Good night, Alayne,” he whispers before turning on his heel and heading toward the elevator bank.  

 She waits by the window until she sees his town car pull away.  Only then does she leave; she opts against taking a cab, choosing instead to walk the thirty blocks to her parents’ townhouse.

 Sansa strolls out to the river park, walking along the water that frames the west side.  She slips a hand into her purse and closes it around the zip drive.  And then she thinks.

 Regardless of what just occurred between them (a #MeToo moment waiting to happen...she’s ashamed of the flippant nature of this thought, at the ease with which she left her own complicity out of the equation), Jaime seems to be a decent person.  And Genna is decent in her way, and Kevan and even Tyrion...is it fair, is it right to help her father tear their company up like this?  The information she’s stolen has the potential to obliterate Lannister Inc....  Can she...will she...?

 She rests her hand on the railing that separates the pathway from the water below.  The little red drive nestles in her fist, and she loosens her fingers-

 But instead, she returns the drive to the inner pocket of her purse.  Shutting the bag with a resolute zip, Sansa continues on her way home.  

[sabineelectricheart]

One’s Due Lot in Life [Pt. 3]

Summary: Decisions are made.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 1480

Notes: So, we arrive at the last part. I hope you enjoyed it so far.

The party came to its natural conclusion when the clocktower struck midnight, and the only people still roaming the house was the staff, making some preparations before going to sleep, as not to leave everything to be done as soon as they woke up at dawn.

Typically, Robin hated checking the fireplaces at the end of the night, making sure there were none left unattended, lest a cinder cracking from one of them burn down the house accidentally. However, that night she could not have been happier to offer herself for the job.

She needed the time to herself and the fresh air. She needed to be on her feet, and not mulling possibilities and conjectures on her uncomfortable bed. She needed to be free from thoughts about Chrom.

So, when Robin descended into the darkened halls downstairs, the last thing she wanted to hear was Chrom calling her name from behind her.

“What are you doing?” He called through heavy breaths as he caught up to her.

“Checking the fireplaces.” She answered curtly.

The blonde maid took a sharp turn into one of the rooms, cutting him off and hoping he would understand what was unstated, but, of course, the king of obliviousness did not.

The prince continued to follow her with his hands clasped behind his back as he watched her intently.

“Stop following me.” Robin demanded.

“I would if you were going the right way.” Chrom countered. “I am sure there is no fireplaces on the stables.”

Her steps faltered. What on Earth she is to do on the kitchens? No, she was definitely in the wrong place. Huffing, she turned around and tried to manoeuvre around the blue-haired nobleman but he blocked her way.

“What are you doing now?” With her arms tightly crossed in distaste, she looked the young man over for the first time in hours.

“Trying to get you to slow down.” Chrom planted his hands firmly on her shoulders and guided her towards the lady’s drawing room, sitting her on an armchair by the window, overlooking the skyline of the city. “Look, Robin, just look for one moment. Look at how lovely tonight is.”

It was unfair how beautiful the lighting made him look. Robin had to catch herself before she got too caught up in a lost cause so she directed her attention down towards her aching feet, peeling off the cramped, unfitted shoes Maribelle forced her attendant to wear. 

Finally, she decided to look up. The prince was right, it was a lovely night, but lovely nights were made for loving people, they were made for people who can spend their nights in parties for no reason other than their own pleasure, and the House of Thermis made it abundantly clear that she was not one of those people.

Her mood instantly soured. The more she thought about the situation, the stupider she felt. She was asking Chrom, the prince of Ylisse, the current heir to the Exalt throne, to love her back, a measly foreign maid.

“I am sorry I could not react appropriately when we were conversing earlier tonight.” Chrom’s timid voice broke the silence and sent a sharp pain in her chest.

She shook her head. “It does not matter. It was just some fanciful thinking on my part. You need not to make me to look at the city to soften my disappointment. I understand it very well.”

He perked up at that. “What?”

Robin sighed, standing up, shoes in hand and melancholy dancing on her badly-lit expression. “I would not dare to expect that you would say it back. I misread the situation, and I shall take the blame for that to spare you any further humiliation. I just ask that you forget about it, so I can salvage my job, if my dignity is already lost.”

Before he could even process what she had said, the maid was already walking away from him. The nobleman scrambled to her side with a flurry of rushed pleas to make her sit and listen to him for just one second.

“Can you just drop it, milord?” She snapped, a snarl toying at her lips. “I am asking of you, I might be a servant, but I have a heart!”

Behind her, Chrom had silenced himself.

“You must understand that this is just a stupid dream, a moment of weakness on my part that should have no bearing in our lives from now on.” Robin sighed and looked up at the nobleman. “Rather, it shall not have bearing on your life, milord, as your indiscretions will be swept away under the rug with a laugh, but it may very well be a tragedy on mine. I will likely end up expulsed from the city, or even dead.”

“Do not be so fatalist, Robin.” The prince counters.

She scoffs. “It is no fatalism, milord. We must take a lengthy exam at ourselves. We know who we are. I am a maid of dubious parentage and you are the heir to the throne, at least until Emmeryn weds. We know our places, and my place is not with you.”

“Naga, why not?!” Chrom shouted.

His anger reverberated through the hollow room and she was near positive she could almost feel it. The corners of his eyes pricked with tears from unalloyed frustration. She was certainly not indifferent at him, it had not been a full night since she half-declared her love for him, seeing him in such a distraught state made her ill at ease.

“Do you want a list?!” Robin snarked back.

The royal ran his hands over his face with a shaky sigh. “I-I am sorry, I did not mean to shout, and especially not at you. You did nothing to deserve to be shouted at, but I just cannot hear about ‘our places’ again.”

Taking cautious steps towards him, she asked, “Again?”

Chrom sunk into a squat and rested against the panelled wall, evoking a quiet gasp at the cleaning his footmen would have to do to his dress pants.

“Maribelle thought you might admire me a little too much and found it her duty to tell my sisters and Frederick.” He explains, a scowl on his face. “For two blasted weeks, he gave me lecture after lecture about how it would be sickening if I even thought about being with someone like you, how I would defile the sanctity of my bloodline and put the realm at risk.”

“Oh.” She sunk to his level, relaxing on the cold hardwood floor next to him.

“Eventually, I realized how much of what he says does not matter.” He mumbles, evading her eye level. “It does not matter what anyone says. I am going to be brave and follow my heart.”

Her eyes flickered up to his, wide and full of hope. “Chrom, do you have any idea of what you are saying?”

Chrom laid on his back, Robin following suit, staring up at the dark ceiling and counting the specs of dust reflected on the clear moonlight. He subconsciously took her hand in his and began to trace random lines on it with his thumb, sending sparks flying through her spine. 

“I do. I promise, I do.” He said, earnest and confident. “I understand your fear, I swear I do. You are right, whatever I decide to do, it will be dangerous, and the one hurt will most likely be you. However, when I found those letters from my father, everything appeared very clear to me.”

“What is it that is obvious?” She whispers, as if it was a great secret.

“I understood what I felt and what I must do about it.” He responded. “I love you.”

Much to her dismay, she inched her hand out of his as she sat up, causing him to turn his head to look in her eyes. “Please do not say that. I know you miss your father, but following on his footsteps will not bring him back.”

“We are nothing like them.” He stated, firmly. “I love you because you are witty and kind, because you are strong and independent, because I know I can trust you, not because you are anything like my mother.”

Robin waited for him to look up at her, searching for the sincerity in his eyes. Chrom smiled sweetly at her, making her stomach flutter and nerves thrum.

Laying back down next to him, she once again took his hand. “What are we going to do about it now?”

“I do not know yet.” The blue-haired man said, his voice still unwavering. “But I am ready to fight for it, and I want you by my side when I do it.”

As she leaned her head on his shoulder, she realized lovely nights were made for loving people, and perhaps she was one of them.

*_*_*_*_*

One’s Due Lot in Life Masterlist

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Awakening Masterlist

[lcgacyofages-a]

🗣+ my first thought was Dazbo and Aurora

Send me 🗣+ the names of 2 muses on the blog, and there will be a random conversation written involving them. | ACCEPTING

tagging @chantcftrials too

Everything was going how Sorin had planned it. There were some finer points, though, that needed work. Something Dazbo was more adept at handling than his older brother. All Dazbo had to work out was how to get into the vault to get Aurora’s phylactery.

He left the lecture room, having finished another drab magical debate with old mages who thought they knew better than a young man’s ridiculous theories on magic which went against the typical understanding. That was the problem with the Circle; everyone thought within a Circle, not outside of it and did little to study other techniques (such as the Dalish or Rivaini), viewing it as inferior.

Dazbo glanced up, seeing Aurora headed down the hall towards the library. What she didn’t notice, though, was how a templar’s gaze followed her and it wasn’t a gaze of suspicion. Oh no. Dazbo couldn’t help the amused grin come to his features as he examined the curly haired templar then moved to catch up with Aurora, watching how quick the boy diverted his gaze when he realized someone else was in the hall.

“Aurora!” Dazbo called, causing her to turn. She was young, freckles dusting her cheeks, with wide, bright blue eyes which held a softness to them. While she still had some growing to do, she was pretty, not striking like Zoria seemed to be with others. But it seemed she had struck someone.

Dazbo moved and put an arm around her shoulder, continuing down the corridor with an easy gait.

“So, who’s tall, blond, and curly?” He jested lightly, keeping his voice low so the subject wouldn’t realize he was being discussed. Dazbo watched as Aurora’s eyes widened, a pink hue coming to her cheeks. She glanced behind them then back at Dazbo, opening her mouth to respond then closing it, rethinking her words. Always the cautious little one.

“He, well, he’s one of the templars, obviously.”

Not so smooth, baby sister.

“And his name?”

“Cullen.” She kept his name straight and to the point, almost too much so. Dazbo raised his brows, a smirk coming to his features.

“And how often do you and Cully talk?”

“His name is Cullen and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ah, her cheeks were getting redder. This was good. “We talk in passing but...” She held the tome closer to her chest, looking down. “But that’s it.”

“That’s it? There seems to be more, baby sister.” He needed more information.

“Dazbo, I don’t know...We don’t really...Know each other, so I don’t know why you’re asking such personal questions.”

“Because I’m your annoying older brother, separated or not. It’s my job.” That got a small, amused laugh out of her. He decided to continue. “So. Do tell. I’ll be gone soon and I do want to know more about you and Zoria, after all. We’re family.”

She seemed to consider this, and finally turned to face him as they rounded a corner, leaving Cullen to guard that section of the corridor alone.

“It’s...It’s silly,” Aurora began, looking to the side. “I’ll admit it, I have...I’m well...”

“You have a crush on him,” Dazbo finished, and the remark caused her face to go bright red and she covered her face with the tome.

“Yes.”

“So have you two...?”

“No!” Aurora nearly shouted, pulling the book down to look at Dazbo in shock. Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide as she realized how loud she had been. When she realized no one was coming, she let out a breath. “No, of course not. It wouldn’t...It wouldn’t be appropriate! Also...He doesn’t like me.”

“Doesn’t like you?” The disbelief in his voice caused Aurora to scowl.

“He likes Zoria.” With that, she turned and continued on her way, Dazbo standing confounded in the hall.

Well, safe to say this just got even more interesting. Why wasn’t the Antivan Circle this interesting?

[queenwinry]

To Save a Life-Part 2

Pairing: Royai

Rating: T

Words: 2944

Part 1, Part 3

A/N: Here’s part two of the Firefighter!Roy au!! I’ve decided I’m going to make this three parts so you guys will be getting one more. This has been so fun to write! Once again, it’s based off @thesilentwatcher‘s awesome piece which you find here. Hope you guys like the next part!

The light from the pentip was blinding and Riza had to resist the urge to squint against it. Her head still hurt like the devil, but she tried to remain cooperative for the exam.

“Alright, pupils are accommodating to light appropriately, that’s good. Now, follow my finger with your eyes and don’t move your head,” the soft voice of the young doctor said as she moved her index finger in the shape of an ‘H’, and Riza dutifully followed her instructions.

Dr. Hughes continued the rest of her exam, checking various seemingly benign features to make sure the young woman hadn’t sustained any neurological damage from the accident. According to her nurses, she had been unconscious for a good deal of time before she came to in the ambulance, and all the others she talked to in charge of her care worried for some type of brain damage.

Riza wringed her hands together as the soft-spoken doctor finished up the exam, anxious to know the results. The minute she looked on the other woman’s calm, smiling face, a good deal of her fears dissipated.

“Good news, my exam shows no abnormalities, which means there’s no neurological damage to speak of. We’ll need to keep you for observation a little longer to make sure that doesn’t change, but I’m hopeful given what I’ve seen here and what we’ve gotten back from the scans that you walked away with nothing more than a minor concussion.”

Riza let loose a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in.

“Thank you, Dr. Hughes. That’s good to hear.”

The woman with the short, dirty-blonde hair smiled at her and turned to write something down on the clipboard she had brought in. “You’re a lucky woman, Ms. Hawkeye. From what my husband told me, it was quite the nasty crash.”

Riza immediately perked up at that statement, though she made sure not to move too much for fear of hurting her side. Though she hadn’t sustained any major injuries, she still had quite a few bruised ribs, not to mention the countless other gashes and bruises, plus a badly sprained wrist. “Your husband’s the police chief right?”

The doctor, Gracia Hughes, nodded her head. “Yes, he was one of the first ones on the scene. He said the car was a mangled bit of metal by the time they saw it, all except for the driver’s side. It’s miraculous, really.”

Riza’s eyes drifted to the rain still steadily falling against her hospital room window. “Y-yes...I suppose I am pretty lucky.”

Immediately pausing in her furious writing, the doctor eyed her patient’s quiet form with renewed interest. Cocking her head and setting aside her notes, she spoke up. “You don’t sound so sure,” she remarked.

Immediately Riza’s eyes were back on the doctor, and she widened them slightly before attempting to remain unphased. She could tell Dr. Hughes had noticed though.

Gracia let out a calm sigh before she sat down at the foot of Riza’s bed. “Not all doctors are good listeners, but I would consider myself one. I got a bit of time before I have to see my next patient, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

Riza thought about staying quiet, but Gracia’s soft eyes lulled her enough into spilling her guts. There was just something about the kind doctor that made Riza trust her, despite everything.

She let out a hefty sigh and began. “I...I shouldn’t have survived that crash. I didn’t deserve to.”

Riza wasn’t looking at her to notice, but Dr. Hughes lifted an eyebrow curiously at her words. “What does that mean?”

“I was being stupid. I should never have even gotten in the car.”

Gracia’s eyes narrowed curiously. “What are you talking about? Your toxicology report came back clean.”

Riza shook her head. “No, not that. I wasn’t...driving illegally. I just wasn’t...in the right mindset. Driving through the mountains was an obviously poor choice.”

Dr. Hughes made a noise of understanding and beckoned Riza to continue her story. “There’s just been a lot going on in my life. I’ve gained a bunch of new responsibilities lately and...I’m not sure I’m as well equipped to handle them as everyone thinks I am.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your grandfather being the President would it?” the doctor asked, only somewhat seriously.

Riza flashed her an ‘are you serious’ look and Gracia smiled genially. “Unfortunately, you can’t choose who you’re related to, Ms. Hawkeye. Every human being ever has had to come to terms with that reality. I can’t even begin to understand the stress of yours in particular, but I do know a thing or two about having a lot of responsibility.”

Riza still didn’t look convinced, so Gracia continued. “I’m an ICU doctor, Ms. Hawkeye. People’s lives are quite literally in my hands every time I come into work. My husband is the head of police. And, as if our combined professions weren’t enough, we have a three-year-old daughter. ‘Responsibility’ doesn’t even begin to describe what we’ve willingly taken on. But...if we let it completely consume us, we’d just burn out. As I said, I can’t claim to know what you must have to deal with, but I don’t think it’s ever healthy to dwell on it this much. And...that’s my piece.”

Dr. Hughes stood from the end of the bed after her mini speech, Riza eyeing her with wide eyes as she moved. She certainly hadn’t been expecting a lecture quite like that when she’d revealed what had been on her mind to the kind doctor. Her life the past few weeks (and really the past few years) had been one unimaginable hurdle after another. She had really thought no one could even begin to understand, but perhaps taking Dr. Hughes’ perspective into account would be worth it.

“Don’t think everything you do is your fault. Going for a drive to clear your raging mind is hardly a crime, and given how lucky you are to even be alive right now, I don’t think the accident happened to punish you.” The doctor gave her one more reassuring smile and turned to exit the room. “You should get some rest now. It’s clearly been quite an intense 24 hours for you.”

“W-wait!” Riza immediately called as a thought occurred to her. Gracia stopped with her hand on the doorknob and turned curiously back toward her patient. “Yes?” she asked.

Now that the opportunity had presented itself, suddenly the young woman became nervous, as a dusting of red overtook her cheeks and she avoided her doctor’s stare. “I-I was just wondering. Since your husband is the police chief...do you know anything about the person who rescued me?”

Ah, yes, the man with the dark eyes she had practically lost herself in who held the side of her face and called her beautiful in relief while they rode in the ambulance. She hated herself for it, since he was probably just doing his job, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he gently brushed his hand against the side of her face to calm her down once she realized what had happened, or the way he had stayed with her even when they arrived at the hospital to make sure she got the proper care, or how one of the nurses whispered that he’d remained there in the waiting room, periodically checking up on her condition, until he was forced to report back at the firestation.

No, she most definitely could not bring herself to stop thinking about her brave rescuer. The man who had literally scaled half a mountain to bring her to safety. Maybe it made her old-fashioned, but there was still something so striking about him, and she just couldn’t get her mind off of it.

Of course, she quickly reminded her raging mind, she only wanted to know more about him so she could thank him properly.

Gracia smiled knowingly and nodded her head, and Riza wasn’t sure if she should be happy or not. “Yes, I do. He’s a friend of both of ours.”

Gathering her nerves and telling herself how foolish she was being for caring this much, Riza asked, “Would it be possible to get his contact information? I think it’s only right to at least thank the man who went through so much trouble for me,” she said, by way of explanation.

The doctor’s smile softened even further, and Riza thought she detected a knowing twinkle in her eyes. “Sure, no problem. I think he’d like to make sure you ended up alright anyway.”

Riza breathed out, trying and failing to calm the erratic pace her heart had suddenly acquired. “Thank you, doctor.”

---

Roy grimaced when Chief Hakuro’s fist slammed down on his desk. The experienced firefighter felt like a child being reprimanded by a principal as he sat and listened to his superior’s frustrations.

“The bottom line is you broke protocol, Mustang! Riding in the ambulance and staying at the hospital while on call is not part of your job description. You should’ve reported back to your team.”

“Sir, I-,”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. You have a very specific and very important job, Mustang. And coincidentally, it doesn’t involve dealing with someone after they’ve been rescued. Honestly, she couldn’t have been that pretty.”

Roy tightened his jaw at that particular jab and made sure his boss didn’t see him clench his fists, but he remained silent against the onslaught, all the same.

“This rescue was enough of a headache already and you failing to do what you’re told only makes it worse. Tell me, Hercules, did you happen to catch the name of your damsel in distress?”

Roy’s face twisted in confusion at the fire chief’s words. Her name? What the hell did her name have to do with this?

“Uhh, no, sir. Why does that matter?”

Hakuro smiled but it was anything but genuine. His eyes still flashed menacingly and Roy had to remind himself for the hundredth time since he walked in the room not to wilt under the heat of the glare.

“Because, wouldn’t you know it, that pretty girl you rescued off the side of the cliff is the President’s granddaughter.”

Immediately Roy’s eyes widened. “W-what? Are you serious?”

“A Ms. Riza Hawkeye was your unfortunate crash victim last night, and yes, she’s part of the First Family. Apparently she tries to stay under the radar because she doesn’t want people to treat her differently or some shit, but I got a call from higher ups in the government not too long ago. What happened has become a matter of national importance.”

Roy remained still as he processed all this new information. Suddenly, his strange insistence on seeing her rescue through quite literally to the end became a lot more complicated. What if someone had recognized her? What if they made assumptions about him? Was he going to have some posse of men in black suits with headsets in their ears knocking on his door and interrogating him because he dared interact with her?

“So...as you can see, Captain,” Hakuro continued with a sneer. “You failing to do your job exactly like you’re supposed to puts me in a bit of a tricky spot. And I don’t take too kindly to my subordinates acting out like this, especially not the ones in charge of a good portion of the brigade.”

Roy had half a mind to tell this guy to screw off, but he knew that would bring a boatload of trouble on top of the mountain he already had accumulated. So, he held back any snide comments, stood at attention and finally said, “I’m sorry for disobeying your orders, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, it better not. Because if it does, you’ll be dealing with a fire a hell of a lot nastier than the ones you’re so used to. Now, get out and get back to work,” Chief Hakuro spoke dismissively, waving his hand dramatically for Roy to leave. The young firefighter was only too happy to oblige.

As soon as he was out of the office and had closed the door behind him, he let out a breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. He had not been expecting one little detour from his usual job to land him in such hot water. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he had stayed with the woman (this Riza Hawkeye), but there had just been something about her that made him want to make sure, absolutely sure, that she was safe and taken care of. Getting Gracia assigned as her doctor had only happened because of his persistence.

But of course, she just had to turn out to be the President’s granddaughter. Dandy.

“Woof, that didn’t sound pleasant,” a new voice spoke up, bringing Roy out of his thoughts. He lifted his head in confusion and found his best friend leaning up against one of their trucks, a teasing smile on his face.

Immediately Roy frowned at the sight of him. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Chief got ya for sticking with the pretty girl, huh?”

If possible, Roy’s frown worsened as he brushed past his friend and walked further into the station.

“Can’t really blame you for it. I didn’t get a great look at her, but even I could tell she was really easy on the eyes. Never really pegged you as someone who would go after a person you rescued, though.”

Roy stopped and swiveled in place, fixing the full heat of his glare on his gloating ‘best friend’. “I wasn’t ‘going after’ her. You think I’d be that selfish to only care about somebody because they were attractive? Something told me I should help her out, and I’m glad I did.”

“You mean because of who her grandfather is?” Hughes asked, crossing his arms.

Roy’s eyes widened before they narrowed and he pulled his friend aside to avoid any listening ears. “How do you know about that?”

“We got a call at our department as well. Her security wants to keep this all under wraps. Apparently she had escaped from them when she drove off the cliff. They don’t want the press to think they’re bad at their jobs.”

Roy scoffed. “They are bad at their jobs if they’d put her in such a dangerous situation. Does Gracia know about this?”

“She does, but only because I told her. I actually just got off the phone with my beautiful wife. She says your presidential rescuee wants to meet you.”

Roy’s body stilled at this bit of information. He tried to keep a nonchalant air about him, but he knew his best friend was too attuned to his emotions not to notice it. “Why does she want to do that?”

“To thank you for your courageous act of bravery, I’d assume.”

Roy scowled and looked away. “She doesn’t need to thank me. That’s my job.”

“That’s what I said, but according to Gracia she’s very insistent. Do you want me to get you two in touch?”

The raven-haired firefighter paused as he weighed his friend’s proposition. On the one hand, he’d get to see the woman who had been on his mind continuously since he’d pried her out of her mangled car. He still had no idea why he couldn’t stop thinking about her (she was pretty, but he’d been with countless beautiful women) and it was beginning to freak him out that she had enraptured him like this, especially given her high-profile family. Of course, on the other hand, he’d just gotten chewed out by his boss for making sure she was okay in the first place. He just knew that if he got more involved, Hakuro would come down on him like a ton of bricks. And, despite how curious about this Riza woman he was, his job was everything to him. He was good at it and he enjoyed it. He had a hunch that Hakuro would hold enough of a grudge to not only dismiss him from the brigade, but also tell other departments not to let him on.

No, this was beginning to become too risky. He’d already gotten far more involved than he should have.

He shook his head and answered. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. Hakuro is already on my case for staying at the hospital with her. If he heard we met again, he’d bring even more shit down on me.”

Hughes pondered this. “Yeah, probably. But that doesn’t mean he has to find out.”

Roy’s eyes widened fractionally and he turned back toward his smirking friend. “What the hell does that mean?”

“What I said it does. Yeah, Hakuro probably wouldn’t appreciate you getting friendly with the President’s granddaughter, but your best friend is a chief of police. There are ways to be secretive about this.”

Roy contemplated his friend’s words and eyed him skeptically. “You’d really help me keep it under wraps.”

Hughes scoffed. “Come on, Roy, we’ve known each other long enough to not make this a big deal. I’m your friend, and I can tell you really want to talk to her again. I can see it in your eyes,” he spoke with a slight wiggle of his eyebrow and Roy inwardly groaned at the sight of it.

“It’s pretty risky,” Roy reminded him, though he had already made his decision.

Smiling slyly, Hughes answered. “You’re a firefighter, Roy. I think ‘risky’ is what you do best.”