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spidereggs888 · 2 months

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Miguel bangs Dr Doom and the poor bastard asks for seconds

Miguel & You

ACT 3 | INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

Miguel O’Hara & y/n, any gender or non gender. Very casual writing style. TW Dark humor, dangerous situations, 18+ language. Y/n are sorta attracted to Miguel (why else would you be here?) but he doesn’t know you lol

(Seriously, if you haven't read ACT 1 or ACT 2, NONE of this will make sense)

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

“Okay? I mean you still got your job, yeah?” your friend says.

“It’s different now! I can’t- my job’s not enough- all my savings are GONE! All those data sticks were full of nontaxable credit and now it’s probably being hocked off for rapture! What the shock am I gonna do?!”

“Wait, wait! Hang on, lemme text Bryce! He gonna know something!”

“I REALLY can’t believe that O’Hara! We talked about this! I made my case pretty simple and he agreed to a follow up meeting- and now he’s just gonna CANCEL on me?!”

“Hey it’s not his fault! He doesn’t know what you’re going through.”

You are so mad you almost tell her the truth. But his secret identity could be a bargaining chip! Yeah sure that will be stooping low but he KNOWS you are one lost payment away from house hunting, which is a horrible experience in Nueva York, especially if you’re broke.

After some sounds of computer work on her end, Speshall re-emerges.

“Hold on… okay. Bryce says Mister O’Hara is back in the Alchemax Business Bureau building.”

“Good God, tell Bryce I said thanks!”

“You better hurry, cuz people who lost their shot yesterday are trying to catch him today. I don’t know how word got out that he didn’t choose anyone as a secretary, but yeah, they are scrambling to get a hold of him. You better hurry!”

You pull out your only spare jacket (the clear plastic one that only keeps off the rain), and throw on a new scarf. You are back at square one, where you gotta compete with all the other interviewees, including Suck-up Syd who’s gonna be even more desperate this time, and Beta-Brody, who just might actually appeal to O’Hara now that he’s about to have an uninterrupted audience with the guy!

Your chances are slim, but if you stand to lose everything, why the hell dwell here?!

░▒▓スパイダーマン▓▒░

When you exit the apartment complex, you run through all of the holograms offering a better life, past all the salesmen trying to convert you to the great house of Thor, and slam your palm down on the terminal button to call the apartment valet.

"Welcome back, tenant 27," the AI apartment valet greets, “Do you want-”

“YES! Give it to me!”

Your car roars out of its hiding place as if it knows today isn’t the day to worry you with her many problems. She is bright red with flaking paint, but she is here in your time of need.

“We refueled your vehicle. Do you accept the charges-”

“BILL ME TOMORROW!”

You rush and slide across the hood, executing the perfect slide and land on your feet on the other side. The door unlatches automatically and you climb in (that almost never happens), and you slam your foot down on the gas pedal.

“I’m comin’ for you, O’Hara!”

░▒▓человек-паук▓▒░

After dodging and slipping through traffic, you arrive at the Alchemax Business Bureau parking lot. The automated parking center kiosk accepts your money this time since your mom knows how to clean her gambling money (you have yet to learn this difficult process), and you get to enter the building in a more conventional way.

The lobby is already in chaos. People are fighting over the coffee machine for some reason, slapping and hitting each other. You turn your back on it and face the old man behind the receptionist desk. He grimaces at you.

“You don’t have anything to do with the crazy shit happening over there, right?” He asks. This was the first time he’s spoken to you in a while.

“Don’t think so. Uh, has O’Hara come through?”

“Heh. What do you think?”

You cringe at the sound of a coffee pot crashing to the floor. The receptionist opens a holoscreen and looks at you through it.

“He’s up in the temp office again.”

He discreetly brings a cup of black coffee up from behind the desk and sets it near you.

“Just pushing forward a favor.”

His eyes focus on the video call that pops up between you, and he continues, “We need custodial support in the lobby. We got some broken glass and hot coffee all over the damn place.”

≋≋≋（スパイダーマン）≋≋≋

You are on the elevator, coffee in hand with a pocket full of sugars. You decide not to drink it, you plan to give it to O’Hara (everyone else must have had this same plan, hence fighting over the pitcher of coffee.) The elevator lets someone else on. The doors open and you see the smoky eyes of Suck-Up Syd.

“Ah, you got past everyone else, I see.”

You reluctantly move over as she strides in. You notice she’s wearing a backless dress before she pulls her faux fur jacket back over her shoulders. She knows you saw, she chuckles and sighs.

“Don’t ya love this day and age?” she asks innocently.

“It could be better,” you say pleasantly.

“I just love how a woman can be herself and flaunt what she’s got…”

She waits for a word of validation but you say nothing to her. She continues.

“I got this dress from Michael, our last boss. Remember him?”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who gave me a second chance…”

“Yeah after the whole embezzling thing! Tsk, I’m so glad you didn’t get fired, you know that? Like really, you are the nicest person in this whole wide place! It would have been so unfair of him to let you go. But he’s very generous.”

You wanna say something mean to her but you are at a crucial point in your life to have stupid Suck-Up Syd karma in the mix.

The elevator door opens and you see a guy laying face down on the floor. He’s groaning in pain. It’s the nice Indian man from yesterday.

“Oh my, what happened here?” Syd asks.

“Ah just some stuff that needed settling,” says the familiar douchey voice of Brody, who walks up from the corner while rubbing his knuckles.

“Did you beat up that guy?!” You scold.

“Well, he got in my face,” he says with a matter-of-fact tone.

“I somehow doubt that!” You scoff.

Brody smirks and takes your coffee.

“Dude, that’s mine!” you complain.

He sips it while keeping eye-contact with you. He then immediately scrunches his face.

“Ew, you don’t add anything to your coffee?!”

“That’s very rude and gross, Broly,” Syd says with sarcasm, walking away towards the glass elevator. He hands the coffee back to you and swiftly follows her, and you reluctantly follow.

“I was just playing, Sydney, lighten up! Nice dress, by the way!”

“Thank you.”

“I mean... you flaunted it for Micheal, I bet you could do the same exact routine for O’Hara and get the job instantly! That's your in-an-out plan, right?”

“Hey, if he thinks hiring me will get him there then that’s on him, not me.”

“What are you pushing 38, going on 39 any time now? You can’t use your looks forever, tick-tock tick-tock.”

“Oh wow, says the guy who believes in that Alpha Male BS. You are aware that the same guy who coined that whole thing turned around and disproved it years later, you know that, right?”

“So it’s not true for wolves, but it’s definitely true for Man.”

“You are not even close to being a Beta…” you grumble.

He looks back at you with a fake smile. Syd laughs.

“Oh well check this out-”

He slaps the coffee down out of your hands and it gushes all over your pants and shoes. You jump back and kick your legs.

“Dude! That BURNS! What the FUCK?!”

“You got it on my dress, you fucking animal!” Syd complains, stepping back away from the dark puddle.

“Oh you were gonna take it off to show what’s left of your body anyway! Get with the now and lighten up!”

“You are SUCH an asshole!” You yell. You start kicking him in the legs. Syd joins in, thrashing him with her stiletto. The both of you back him into the corner as he tries to guard his face. The glass doors open and the three of you stop your squabbling as y’all realize there has been an audience for the last few seconds.

The pair of security guards from yesterday are standing near the elevator, both looking somewhat amused about the elevator fight, and two men are sitting on either side of the tiny desk, one of them being O’Hara and the other is your ex boss.

“Oh… uh, hi!” Syd stammers, taken aback by the present company. Brody pushes her aside and strides across the room with his hand extended.

“Hey, Mister O’Hara! The name’s Brody Tice! Nice to meet-”

“The hell are you guys doing here?” O’Hara asks.

“Hey, yeah, I didn’t get to meet you yesterday- had some stuff come up, but I heard you were here today, so I thought-”

“Then SIT,” O’Hara demanded.

“Actually, I do better standing!”

“Sit the hell down, Brody,” Micheal snaps, “Now’s not the time!”

[Brody mumbles something about being fine where he is.]

“Is everything okay, Micheal?” Syd asks, defaulting to an innocent tone.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Micheal says with glossed, lazy eyes. He always had this look whenever he was forced to care, “Someone formerly in our department just complained about some old history and we are trying to smooth it out.”

"Oh, this is beyond smoothing out," O'Hara said with an unsafe tone while smiling, "Yeah, this little game you have going on comes to an end today."

"What game?!" Micheal scoffs, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ve had my AI assistant cross-reference your employment history and your payment history and I did not like what she told me," O'Hara says, putting his giant paws together, "You’ve been withholding payment from your employees by not immediately updating their salary in the system after they were given a raise. And you’d neglect doing anything until they actually confront you about it, and even then, you never paid them the missing difference. And you did this, let's say, roughly eighty times in the past four years?”

Your blood boils. This man has been a parasite this whole time while you scraped by. Micheal looks back and forth at Syd and Brody, unable to keep eye contact with O'Hara.

"Wha- WHICH of you- Syd! I thought I could TRUST you!" Micheal stammers.

"What? Micheal! No! I didn't say anything about you!"

Micheal's gaze darts to Brody, but then he swivels his head to you instead.

"Was it you?!"

"Wow, you're really just gonna look for someone to blame, huh?" Brody scoffs.

"Whoever did this doesn't know who they're messing with!" Micheal says, his face red as he shakes, "I have too much as stake to be taken down by some rat!"

“It was ME!” you yell, not willing to take anything else laying down anymore, “I confirmed what happened!”

Micheal looks genuinely surprised at you yelling. Syd just blinks awkwardly and Brody grins. O’Hara is still sitting with his elbows resting on his desk, watching from behind clasped fingers.

“What on earth did you-”

“The ultimatum you gave me! You pulled me aside into the maintenance closet and made me choose between getting fired or demoted, REMEMBER?!”

“We took you into the maintenance closet because the situation was private-”

“You just didn’t want anyone with a brain noticing you were doing something illegal!”

“He was on vacation!” Syd said defensively, “You should have just waited-”

“Oh that’s SUCH bullshit! He wanted to see how long he could go without actually paying me what I was owed!”

“It was just a fluke in the system-”

“It was no fluke, it was CALCULATED!” You snap, stepping towards her with your finger in her face, “And you should know, Syd! You fucking stood there watching like the stupid little henchman you are! You KNEW Micheal was doing something illegal and you did NOTHING to report it! And we know why! Because you KNEW if I went down, you would instantly get my position as vice head PR accountant! You were a snake from the start and always HAVE been!”

“Oh shush! You were sniveling and crying like a BABY, begging to keep the job! I may be what I am but at least I have some dignity-”

“Sydney! Let’s not push it!” Micheal warned.

“That’s fucking laughable coming from you, y’know that?” Brody says to Syd, “You are the LAST person with any dignity around here! You dropped your panties for Ashton when I told you he was head of our department! You didn’t even try to research him or anything! You just did it because you’re a whore.”

“And you!” you yell, pointing at Brody.

“Ah, let’s hear it!” He retorts.

“You are the biggest lying asshole in this whole fucking industry! How the fuck has no one laid you out yet?! All that alpha dog bullshit has gone so far up your ass, I don’t know where your sexist bullshit ends and where your goddamn shit-eating grin begins! You gotta tear people down because you aren’t strong enough to hack it with the big dogs, are ya?! ARE YA, BRODY?! Oh, look at me! I’m Brody Tice! I’m too mean and stupid to make meaningful relationships work, so I bully others to assert a false sense of dominance! And if that don’t work, I resort to telling people I was diddled in the doo doo hole by my best friend Ashton because that’s the kind of LOSER I am!”

Brody’s pride is on the line, and he was not taking too kindly to you airing out his dirty laundry in front of O’Hara. He steps up to you, his fake smile now grinding into a dangerous sneer.

“Oh, NOBODY has laid me out yet because they CAN’T!”

“You are so full of shit!”

“Go ahead and make your move, then!”

“Everyone just stop!” Syd pleads anxiously.

“You can't always get away with everything you’ve DONE!” You say coldly. Blood is rushing in your ears and you can feel your neck getting hot. Brody jabs you in the shoulder with his knuckles.

“Make your move, bitch-”

Having seen enough, O’Hara stands up and swiftly grabs Brody by the front of his shirt. He leads the smaller man around on his toes as they come face to face. Brody’s eyes bulge.

“Wow, man! Your hands are massive-”

O’Hara picks the whole man up and one-arm slams Brody through the tiny desk. Just *bam* throws him down TLC style. Travel-sized bottles fly everywhere.

Brody stares up at the ceiling, making a long minuscule whining sound. The desk is finished and everyone is frozen in place.

“Quitar este loser,” he commanded, pointing down at Brody and flicking his finger at the door. The two guards grabbed Brody and lifted him out of the rubble.

“As for you two,” he said, turning to Syd and Michael, “clean out your desks!”

“W-why?!” Syd whined

“You can't do this!” Michael begged, his grey eyes bulging, "I have been with this department for thirty years! I was here when your father ran this place!"

O'Hara clenches his jaw and fists. His eyes flash dangerously.

"--Though you do a spectacular job as CEO, WAY better than... It-It really was an honest fluke, I get very overwhelmed with all my responsibilities- please! You can’t fire me!”

He stares down Micheal, considering him a little longer. He drops his scowl and lets his hands free.

“Relax, I’m not firing you or Miss Sarcoth here,” O’Hara says with a falsely kind tone, “I mean, you really should be fired, but a guy your age doesn’t stand a chance in the private sector, so I’m moving you both to the custodial department! They’ll love you there!”

“Oh... well alright,“ Michael mutters, eyes bugged out at the giant financial nuke that missed him by inches.

“Wait, why am I being dragged down too?!” Syd whined, “there’s no proof I was even THERE!”

“There's lots of surveillance of your complacency and possible cooperation, Miss Sarcoth. Don’t even bother trying to argue your way out of this one. Now both of you, off to your new jobs! C’mon! You only get one chance!”

O'Hara gives them both a clenched smile. Syd and Micheal exchange confused stares.

“Go on before I get pissed off,” he said in a colder tone.

They scramble to gather their coats and rush out of the room. Those two jackasses who screwed with your livelihood just to make themselves laugh are now fucking off to whatever hell hole O’Hara has decided to stuff them into.

O’Hara sighs and paces away. He grumbles about idiots fucking around with their goddamn money. You clear your throat. He straightens his anti glare lenses then looks at you.

“Have a seat, since you’re here.”

You sit down where Michael was seated before. You stare this guy down because this is it! You are ready for hellfire. You are ready for searing words and possible loss of a limb or head in the conversation to come. You squint at those red eyes behind the comically large lenses. How has nobody accused him of being a vampire? Either way, you are ready to gamble it all, to hell with being cautious!

You are gonna take this vampire down.

“You are wondering why I canceled our meeting, yeah?” He asks with raised brows.

You are relieved he brought it up first.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I decided I don’t need a secretary,” he said, “turns out it’s too damn stressful and stupid. I’ve been doing just fine with my AI assistant.”

“What about all the people who wanted to work for you?”

“They have their own jobs already, it’s not like they have nothing to go back to.”

“Well I don’t,” you say, gripping the edge of your chair. He makes a curious face.

“You have a job, what do you mean-“

“I’ve been cheated, blackmailed, rejected, declined, and robbed, all because of idiots like Michael and Syd… and that idiot Brody! I’m not about to let a dismissive playboy who fires people left and right, AND moonlights as Spider-Man kick me down without a fight-“

O’Hara comes back over and sits down in his chair quickly, making you flinch, but he’s smiling.

“So you WERE awake when I saved you!”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. You are now shaking but not breaking your stare from his amused expression.

“Now you know who I am and what I do… at least only the tip of that gargantuan iceberg… so what do you want? Money? You gonna blackmail me?”

“What fucking choice do I have?” You say heatedly, “I lost everything down there in that hell hole! My data sticks, my phone, all of that was my LIFE in order, and now I either go further into debt or I get a better job that will take care of me for the rest of my life!”

O’Hara leans back into his chair, his brow furrowed as he rubs his chin.

“Don’t think for a second I’m not grateful for you saving my life! I don’t know how you knew I needed saving but you did!”

“My AI assistant Lyla informed me your location was moving down to a notorious criminal breeding ground. I thought you were one of those Black Market Demons trying to infiltrate Alchemax for drugs.”

“What?”

“I mean the descriptors fit. I guessed you were financially unstable and turning to gambling because you had a Rapture habit. But… you didn’t seem physically unwell like a Rapture user. The only other possibility was that you were being kidnapped. Since I already met you and saw it about to happen, I just couldn’t ignore it.”

You look to the floor, feeling bad about readying yourself to fight this guy.

“I knew you needed help. I'm sorry about your data sticks and all your money. I didn’t know- you do have a bank account, right? I mean, you have a job-”

“My job salary goes there, yeah, but that goes straight into automated payments since I’m on the Alchemax home-employment plan… I have the data sticks because my bank won’t accept anything considered gambling money. And I don’t have enough earnings for an offshore account… so I kept it all on the data sticks…”

He is hanging on every word now. You look up at those sad bespectacled eyes.

“Also… I just wanted some personal spending money for myself. I just wanna wear nice stuff and eat something else besides mineral bars…”

He politely watches you try not to feel sorry for yourself. You are both quiet for a little spell. You can hear the wind outside, and an automated cleaning system starts spraying the shit out of the glass elevator. It sounds like a car wash. All that coffee on the floor is being washed away.

He sighs and looks out the windows.

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t impressed at the decade and a half you put into PR work for Alchemax,” he finally says. You wipe away a single tear and look up at him as he pulls up your files on his neat watch. He picks out your best work with his calloused but beautiful hands, “You started running hot meals for the Alchemax elderly program at fifteen years old… went into mail room tech for a while there, occasionally doing lobby work and handling public events… not bad at all.”

"Thanks," you say modestly.

“Most of all, I really admire that you came here. I don’t know how you knew I’d be here, but you must have some great resources to pull that off. I'm impressed.”

You smile at him weakly. He smiles back.

“What do you think about taking Micheal's old job?”

“Wha- REALLY?!”

“Ah I’m sure you’ll do fine! Besides, I didn’t know who I was gonna pick as head of PR account and finances, anyway! So, what do you say?”

You stand up and so does he. You extend your hand and he takes it.

“Thank you for this opportunity, sir! I won’t let you down!”

“You actually don’t have a choice.”

You smile but then feel yesterday’s emotions catch up with you. The darkness with the dead bodies and freaky black market demons. Running until your legs were on fire and your lungs hurt. Being surrounded by those demons in the darkness. You dive in for a hug.

“Thank you for saving my life…” you murmur into his shirt.

“C’mon, I’m Spider-Man, it’s what I do.”

You hold your head against those mighty pecs of his. His dress shirt is so silky and soft and smells like the kind of detergent that goes hard like crack. You go ahead and wrap the other arm around him as you behold the heartbeat of a hero, something so rare in any day and age. You will never forget this sensation as he carefully pats your back.

“Ah, okay, just take it all in… I’m only allowing this once… hey, also promise me you'll keep my secret, okay?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I'm not kidding. If you go telling people I'm Spider-Man, I'll make you clean toilets. SPECIFICALLY toilets. And only toilets."

You start to giggle. He does too.

"Just toilets, all day and all night! I'm serious. I know we are laughing but I'm dead serious. No estoy bromeando! Comprendes?"

"Si comprendes," you manage to muffle out.

"Good, good... Okay get off me. Please.”

You smile and let him go. He gives you an awkward smile and rubs the side of his massive neck.

"So... seeing as I'm removing Micheal and pretty much any and all staff members who conspired with him, you’ll need to hire your own assisting staff. You have anyone in mind?”

≋≋≋（蜘蛛侠）≋≋≋

“I’m going to lunch!” You call out as you leave your glass paneled office.

“You want me to go ahead and send out this mass email, dear?” Your mother says from behind her grand desk.

“You let Speshall look at it, right?”

“It’s wordy but I’m sure it’s fine,” Speshall says from her office area. She returns to her phone, “Oh they eloped?! To where?!”

Your new staff has it's own habits but they are much better than the unjust monsters running things before. You walk onto the elevator (the only one since the other two are STILL broken), and the nice Indian man from weeks ago joins you.

"How's life, Arjuna?" You ask.

"Ah, in-laws are staying over for a month."

"Oh? Is that bad?"

"Not really. Let's say I just might jump out a window," he says, slyly.

"Well I know a few custodians perfect for the job!" you blurt out. The both of you crack up laughing. You fortunately don't have to ever see Micheal, Syd, and Brody on a daily basis since O'Hara sent them off to clean in the Alchemax Museum of Tech, but that hasn't stopped you or your friends from making them the butt of all your jokes.

You walk out into the lobby of the Alchemax Business Bureau, where you see your red Maglev Nova outside waiting in the rain.

“All fueled up, boss!” Says the old receptionist behind the counter. He’s drinking his coffee in peace.

“Thanks, Stan!” You say.

You walk outside to your car. The paint job was redone and all her internal issues gone as she hums cleanly, awaiting your arrival. You open the door to get in.

"HEY!"

You look over the Nova. You see O'Hara across the street.

“Miguel! Hey!”

“Hey! We doin’ this?”

“Yeah! I got some coupons for double thick enchiladas! Two for the price of one!”

“Ay, you and those coupons! I told you, I’m buying! Woah-“

He steps back as a truck flies past him. It drives right through a puddle, drenching the man. He stands there all stunned; his jacket was folded on his arm and his dress shirt soaked.

He gapes at you and you realize you are staring at the wet shirt clinging to his chiseled body.

“We- we can stop by the dry cleaners on the way," you stammer as you politely look away.

๋࣭ ⭑🕸 fin 🕸๋࣭ ⭑

Thank you for reading.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara art #Miguel & You #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #kinda but not really #enough to make a rando uncomfortable

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daebraeksan · 11 months

Text

Calming down from vague anxiety after a social event with Nagi + friends

Genre: comfort, fluff

Contents: implied anxiety/ hypervigilance/ trauma/PTSD, friends, vibes,

Wc: 2264

*~ *~ *~ *~ *~

You and Nagi slam your doors closed as you switch places with the valet to get into the car. You lock it and get settled, and are anxious about holding up the line, so you are ready to drive—but there’s a line in front of you, too, so you have to make do with inching ahead, pausing for long periods of time. That’s just as fine. Your eyes adjust to the dark, and you squint to protect yourself from the too-bright headlight that some people have.

“Are you okay?”

You turn to Nagi, one of the only people whose full attention can be on you, and you actually like. You try to let yourself disengage from the previous situation—a bustling party filled with lots of famous people you don’t know and lots of friends you do know—and relax into the new situation, which was you were with your favorite person, and you felt safe with him.

Alright! You tell yourself, as you notice your anxious heartbeat. You wait for yourself to adjust to your new surroundings. Any time now!

“Mmm.” But old habits die hard. You don’t like to lie—you never would, to Nagi, unless it was a good surprise, like a birthday party or present—but you also don’t like to tell the truth about when you are “not okay.” You don’t like not being okay. It’s a hassle. You are very earnest and hard working in most things, except for taking care of yourself. When it comes to selfcare, you sound a lot like Nagi, actually. Which he does not appreciate—he wants you to take care of yourself, just like how you take care of him so well, and everyone else in your whole life. So he tries to ask you, and you try to tell him, because you want to try. You want to be better at taking care of yourself and being honest with yourself. And you like being honest with Nagi. And you feel safe to tell him stuff.

Most of the time. The other times, it’s not his fault specifically—it’s that your brain’s patterns haven’t caught up with the “new” reality you are living in (that you are surrounded by safety and love and you don’t have to be so ON GUARD anymore.)

“That was a big sigh.”

You don’t want to breath angrily at anyone—not like the passive aggressive people you grew up with. You know Nagi does not think you are angrily sighing at him, because he doesn’t think like that. But you think like that so you don’t want even a hypothetical situation where he would get that idea into his mind, because that’s not you. You love him, and you wouldn't do that to him.

Unfortunately, that means you have to explain yourself.

You take another breath, and have successfully navigated through the stressful parking situation and onto the main road. Nagi enters directions to your house on the GPS and you are grateful to be able to engage the analytical compete-a-task part of your brain—and even better, it’s a task you have done successfully many times over. You got this!

Hiori calls and asks if it’s good if they’re all still coming over. Nagi looks at you. You nod.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You nod again. Everyone who’s coming over are people you like and feel safe with. It’s not like a huge public event where there are a ton of randos posing random threats. Random and hypothetical. You emerged safely, so, either you neutralized all threats, or there were none to begin with.

You can never be too certain, though. Right? Haha.

“Yeah, we’ll see you when we get home.” Nagi says.

“Okay, cool,” Hiori says sweetly. “See you there.”

Nagi hangs up.

“Can you turn on music,” you say.

Nagi finds the chillest playlist you guys have and turns it on. If you weren’t so anxious, you would tell him to change it because you don't want to fall asleep.

Once your adrenaline crashes, you might actually be able to fall asleep to this playlist, though. Maybe you’ll ask him to play it again once you all get home.

“How was your time at the party?” Nagi asked.

You smile a little. You know the question is not sarcastic. It’s just funny because you both basically spend the entire time together.

“I had fun with you,” you say honestly.

“We should have stayed home.” Nagi says, probably also very honestly.

“Do you really mean that?” you ask sympathetically, just in case.

“You know I do,” Nagi says.

You let out a short amused exhale.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asks.

You think for a second.

“Maybe,” you say.

“You’ll let me know?” he asks.

“Okay,” you say, and he turns up the music, gets on his phone, and lets you think.

As fucked up as it sounds, sometimes when things are going really well is when you are the most stressed. Take today for example. You had to roll with the “punches.” A lot of unexplained and unplanned events. And punches was a very violent word to use for a lot of situations where the stakes were very low and there was no danger. Threat level minimal. And now that things have basically wrapped up, your brain is trying to make up some danger to explain…? Well. Explain why you feel this way. Your life is usually full of danger—at least when you were growing up—to the point where you aren't even always conscious of what the danger is, just that you have a sense that there is danger somewhere.

Other people used to pose a lot of danger when you grew up. You didn’t trust easily then, and you still don’t now. You want to keep yourself safe, but you want to get better at believing in the safety that you experience in the present instead of making up danger that matches the feelings you had a lot as a kid, the feelings that come back now as habit, at the drop of a hat, the blink of an eye. There are so many triggers that happen daily, normal events that trigger these scared feelings, and it makes it really hard to enjoy daily life. You don’t have to be “normal”—you’ve basically given up on that. But you deserve to be happy and enjoy activities and aspects of life. You’re here, you’re alive, so you might as well make the best of it.

You still get frustrated when you can’t calm down. Your skepticism almost chokes you while you try to take deep breaths. Your racing thoughts smirk at your eyes, trying so hard to convince you that you are calm and safe by perceiving your (calm and safe) surroundings. You are your own worst enemy now. That doesn’t feel good. You had enemies in the past. But they were all muddled up—people who were supposed to love you and be there for you were harming you and betraying you. But your young mind could only comprehend so much.

So when you are finally treated sanely, calmly, and respectfully, your adult brain cannot fully comprehend it. Cannot fully trust it.

You arrive home, and somehow, some people have already beat you there.

“Why didn’t you call?” you ask, familiar I’m-a-bad-host panic stirring in your chest.

“We did,” Barou snapped at Nagi, who held his gaze stubbornly.

You turned to Nagi. Before you can say anything, he bonks you on the head lightly and kisses your nose.

“Fine!” Barou says.

“We’re not paying you any taxes, trash king,” Nagi says.

“Double fine!” Barou accuses.

You smile at him, laughter in the back of your throat. If you hadn't already been socialized out from the event, maybe you would have.

You let everyone into your home, and they spread out into the living room and kitchen.

You put your keys on the counter by the door, and Nagi wraps his arms around your waist and engulfs you, head hooked over your shoulder. You reach back and pat his hair with one hand and put your other hand over where his arms are crossed over your tummy.

“Thanks for going with me,” you say.

“I would say that to you, but I didn’t want to go,” he grumbles.

“Not even a little?” you ask.

“You make me go.”

“Don’t blame me,” you say, though, you know that you like events way more than he does, and he won’t let you go alone—even though he could!

He kisses your neck. “I know. If I 100% didn't want to go, I wouldn’t.”

“You only 99% didn’t want to go?” you grin.

“I 100% want to hang out with you,” he says.

You wriggle out of his grasp so you can turn around to face him, and bring your lips to his.

“You know we can go if you’re just going to make out,” Yukimiya teases you. Even though you know him a lot better by now, you still feel way more embarrassed when he teases you than anyone else. Your face still flushes and you boo him.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Bachira yells from the living room.

“Just tell them to go to the bedroom. We’ll watch a movie,” Gagamaru’s dull voice is just audible from where he’s presumably posted up with Bachira.

You take Nagi’s hand and start to pull him to where everyone’s hanging out. You can’t brute force him into doing anything, and so he makes you wait until he fills his and your water bottles before he lets you drag him to the living room.

Bachira is curled up with every blanket you own, and is trying to cover Isagi with some, too.

“It’s too hot!” Isagi pleads. Bachira throws one over his head.

“Moved in, fully I see?” you tease.

Bachira looks at you, wide eyes serious. “You joke,” he says ominously. “And yet.”

“He’s the monster under your bed,” Hiori says, eyes sweet and amused.

Bachira beams.

“Whoa. That was so good. Write that down!” Zantetsu orders absolutely no one.

Barou picks a tv show—starts in the middle of a show absolutely no one else has watched, and gets mad whenever anyone asks a question.

Having secured (negotiated) a blanket from Bachira, you snuggle with Nagi, and get settled in to watch the movie. Your anxious feelings were forgotten momentarily as you dealt with getting everyone inside and settled. Now that you are sitting down, watching something you aren’t sure you’ll be able to engage with anyway, you stare down your thoughts regretfully. You can’t stop them from coming. They’re already here. You regret them even as they are happening. You wish you could give yourself some peace.

But anyway, your brain is your brain and you're going to have thoughts, and you are not obligated to be mean to yourself about them. You still might. Out of habit. But that’s okay too.

You hold Nagi’s hand between your two, clasping your fingers with his, running your thumb up his palm and fingers, feeling his gamer’s callouses. You want to find a way to comfort yourself that makes sense for you now and that will actually be effective. When you’re with Nagi, there are some pretty effective ways. Like what you’re doing right now!

When you’re by yourself? So far you feel very ineffective. That doesn’t feel good. Relying on someone feels dangerous. Relying on someone feels unreliable.

Nagi squeezes your hand back.

“Check your phone,” he whispers after a while.

You make to reach for it when you realize. “I don’t have it.”

Nagi tch’s at you, and—you’ve fully accepted this about you, there is no room for embarrassment, cringe is dead anyway—your heart seizes with love for him. He shows you his phone.

“Do you still want to talk?” he has texted you.

“I think I’m okay,” you type.

He erases what you’ve written.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m okay now.”

“I love you,” he says.

“Shhhh!” Barou hisses.

“Shut up, trash king,” Nagi gripes while Bachira says, “I love you, too!”

Nagi looks at him.

“I was talking about y/n,” Bachira grins.

“Back off,” Nagi says lightly.

“I can’t, I’ve already moved in,” Bachira says.

“You haven’t.” Nagi and Bachira stare at each other, faces lit with flashing colors from the tv.

“I love you, too,” you say, and kiss Nagi on the cheek.

“Thanks, y/n,” Bachira grins.

“She was talking to me!” Nagi snaps.

“It’s okay, y/n, you can let him think that,” Bachira stage-whispers.

“Are ya’ll done?” Barou booms. “I feel like the show is happening here, more than on the tv.”

“It’s more interesting here, too,” Bachira is always quick with his quips.

Barou growls, and you let yourself laugh. Nagi looks at you, and you see he finally looks relaxed too. You scratch the top of his head.

“When are you all leaving,” Bachira asks.

“Why?” Isagi asks.

“I want to go to sleep,” Bachira says.

“You don’t live here!” Nagi yells (his version of yelling.)

“He can sleep over,” you say.

Bachira looks very smug and Nagi looks at you, hurt and betrayed.

“We’ll talk about it,” you promise. Nagi hugs you tighter, and everyone finangles movie choice from Barou, and as you all start watching something much more palatable to everyone, you are grateful that you are in a safe environment where you don’t have to overanalyze every moment and feeling. You settle in for a good night, and honestly, none of them have to leave. That’s what floors and blankets are for.

#bluelock #blue lock #bluelock fanfiction #blue lock fanfiction #bluelock x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro fanfiction #nagi seishiro fic

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

Necessary Arrangements: ch 4

Will Miller x female Reader A Princess Diaries inspired Triple Frontier AU Co-written with @steeevienicks

Upon returning from Colombia with one fewer member of his former special forces team, Will Miller is met with the revelation that his absent father is dying and Will is expected to take over the family business. Which would be fine, if the family business weren’t the running of an entire small nation. This is Will’s chance to start over and do some good in the world - but how will he cope with his new life and the woman he is supposed to spend it with?

Rating: Teen, but as always this blog is 18+! Word Count: 9.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series include family death, cursing, and food descriptions.* The usual cursing, food, and fluff here. Mention of break ups and of Frankie’s addiction issue, but nothing too heavy. Summary: The Delta boys descend on the royal palace, and some of them might start to get comfortable in Freidlyn a lot faster than they ever thought. Notes: Love is in the air and we are making absolutely no apologies for it 💖

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

The next day feels like an unruly marathon despite how orderly it is. The morning church service ended up being a free-for-all of paparazzi trying to get photographs of the new king, and when Will had instinctively reached for your hand to bring you inside the building away from the flashing bulbs, chaos had ensued.

At least his friends’ travel plans had all gone steadily. The private jet normally reserved for diplomats or special visitors had been dispatched last night so it could land in North Carolina and refuel before the morning. All three men and little baby Xiomara Morales were safely on board and on schedule. Almost all of Will’s day after arriving back at the palace has been spent with the royal tailor being precisely measured and fitted, or with the palace interior designer, saying yes or no to the hundreds of tiny decisions about what the redecoration of his suite will look like. It is immense, and by the time you appear in his sitting room at half past five, he looks like his eyes are about to cross from being overwhelmed. “I’m very sorry to interrupt, Madame Tetroux, but his Majesty needs to change for dinner. His guests will be arriving soon.”

Will perks up at that. This day had been a lot for sure, and while he was prepared for paparazzi that morning, he was not prepared for that many. Will gets up and goes over to the closet, his suit hung up and ready to be worn to dinner. It fits like a glove, and he can’t help but admire how it looks in the full-length mirror. The pants and jacket are black and the white button up and green tie complete the look. This is definitely the most expensive thing he has ever put on his body. He grabs the emerald cufflinks from a little wooden box and walks out of his closet to where you’re sitting. “Could you help me with these?” He asks timidly.

“Of course.” Cuff links are easy enough for a second person, and you settle them in place quickly. “You know, it might make your life easier if you took on a valet sooner rather than later,” you hum, straightening his tie just a smidge. “Let someone else pick out your clothes and make sure you don’t have a tag sticking out by accident? It’s one less thing to worry about.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” He chuckles. “Do I look okay? I like the suit, but I’ve never worn anything so…perfect before. So I feel a little…I don’t know. Uncomfortable? No, that’s not it. Out of place, maybe? Which, ha, I shouldn’t be considering all of this.” He thinks once he sees his friends, he won’t feel so strange, like having familiar faces will put him at ease. “You look beautiful, by the way.” He glances up and down noticing the dress you have on for the evening. Fitting perfectly and the shimmer of your jewelry suiting your skin tone and eyes beautifully.

"You look very handsome." And that is the absolute honest truth without a hint of embellishment. "If it helps, try to think of these clothes as your uniform, for now. I'm sure you were uncomfortable in your uniform when you first joined the military, but you grew used to it. This is no different." With a small smirk, you lift up your ankle a little to show him your high heeled shoe. "These have been a part of my uniform for so long that I barely ever feel pain from them anymore."

“I don’t know how you ladies ever get used to those death traps, but I have to say they look very good.” He’s always admired a woman in heels, no matter how much it hurt his ankles just looking at them. “That’s a good point though. I was uncomfortable in those scratchy uniforms at first but after a while you just kind of forget about it. See, this is one of the many reasons I need you around – you just make things make sense to me.”

"Probably the most uncomfortable you'll be in your own clothes from now on is when you have to wear a dress uniform." There is a small piece of lint on the lapel of his suit that you pick away easily, offering him an encouraging smile. "Although that will be at both our wedding and coronation, so I promise in advance to make sure you have your favourite things to sleep in when you finally get to sleep those nights." You have no intention of breaching the topic of sharing a bed, but you can at least make sure he is taken care of. Consummation will happen whenever it happens. You've only known each other for two days.

“What would I do without you, Plum?” He asks. He has also thought about sleeping arrangements, but isn’t sure how or when to bring that up to you. Ultimately deciding that it would be your choice whether or not the two of you would share a bed. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for how kind and gracious you’ve been these last few days. I probably seem like a fuckin’ idiot, but I’m trying, and I’ve actually been learning a lot.” He grabs your hand from where you’ve been picking the small pieces of lint off his label and brings your hand to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss there. There’s a moment where the two of you are quiet, just looking into each other’s eyes; a peaceful moment in the chaos of the last two days…which is interrupted by a brisk knock on his door.

“Sire? Your guests have arrived.” It’s Minna.

“Thank you, Mlle. Thorn.” The spell of the moment is broken just like that, and you offer the other woman a grateful smile. She has been working herself ragged since the car accident and you are more appreciative of her help than you can say. “We’ll be down directly.” If you can have just one more stolen moment of his sweetness, you will certainly take it.

“Are you ready to meet my brother and friends?” Will asks, squeezing your hand one last time before letting go. Out of habit now he offers his arm for you to take, smiling when your arm loops through his perfectly. “If they ask something you don’t feel comfortable answering, please just tell them to fuck off. They’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be slightly more articulate than that, but I don’t have any trouble expressing myself.” You tease, offering him an encouraging grin. The walk from the residential wing of the palace to the formal dining room takes a few minutes but you and Will are both brisk walkers when you have reason to be. He’s excited to see them, that’s obvious, and to be honest you find it very sweet. Now all you can do is pray they like you.

Benny, Frankie, Xi, and Santi have been escorted to the dining hall – all of them, except Xi, who is passed out on her father’s shoulder – are looking around with wide eyes. None of them have ever seen anything like this in real life before, and never imagined a place like this actually existed.

“I told you I wasn’t bullshitting.” Will laughs as he walks up and hugs each of his friends and brother. “Thank you for coming. It’s good to see you all.”

“This is—” Benny would normally whistle but he doesn’t want to wake Xi, so he just blows out a long breath. “This is un-fucking-believable. No wonder Mom was always so cagey about your dad when we used to ask. Jesus…”

“Yeah, can’t say that I blame her.” Will laughs, patting his brother on the back. “I don’t think either of us would have kept quiet about this place had we known when we were kids. How was the flight?”

“Beat the hell out of every bare bones transport we ever took,” Frankie laughs. “Xi didn’t like take off, but we took turns reading and playing with her and she knocked out somewhere over the Atlantic. Woke up again over England and we started the whole thing again. Now she’s…” He shrugs a little bit but is careful not to disturb his sleeping angel. “She always falls asleep on a car ride. It works like a charm.”

“I’m glad little miss got some sleep. Hope you did too.” Will smiles as he holds his arms out for the small baby. A gesture that makes your heart flutter. He takes Xi in his arms and cuddles her against his broad chest – he looks like a natural with her, and she settles into him quickly. “Someone missed their Uncle Will.”

The quiet moment is the right one, you decide, and extend your hand to Will’s younger half-brother, introducing yourself informally and knowing that formalities will come later. “I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about you,” you tell him honestly.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Benny says as he steps forward to hug you. He wraps his arms around you like he’s afraid that if he squeezes too tight, you’ll break and says your name. “You’re stunning. My brother is a lucky guy.”

“That’s very sweet of you.” The fact that he ignored your hand and hugged you instead speaks volumes to you about his willingness to embrace his brother’s new roll and you give his shoulders a slight squeeze in return. “I’m afraid you’ll be seeing rather a lot of me in the weeks to come. Your brother and I have quite a lot to discuss with you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Benny chuckles. “I’m looking forward to getting to know all about you and,” he gestures around him, “all of this. This is so cool.” He turns to Frankie and Pope. “These are our friends – Frankie Morales and Santiago Garcia.”

Both men offer their hands to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, su Majestad.” Santi winks. “You’re beautiful.”

“It’s still your Ladyship until next month.” You tell him with a grin, so very thankful that they seem to be excepting and embracing everything with ease now threat they know it isn’t a prank. “I’m afraid there is rather a lot to talk about, but I’m so glad you could all come.”

“I’ll be honest, Will and Benny had me for a while.” Santi admits. “But after being picked up in that plane? Wow. Sorry for doubting you, hermano but to be fair they’ve pulled fake wife pranks before when we were in basic together, so…” He laughs.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing fake about me.” The friendship they all have is something that will be to Will’s great advantage in the coming weeks, you’re sure of that. He will need their support.

“Excellent. Frank, you gonna say hi or are you going to keep looking around like a lost puppy?” He teases. “Frank’s the quiet one of the groups so he shouldn’t give you much trouble.” Santi squeezes your shoulder before stepping back and nudging Frankie forward.

“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Frankie says quietly. He’s overwhelmed, it’s easy to see, but he’s trying his best to make a good impression.

“Thank you for making the trip.” You shake his hand firmly, something he seems surprised by, but you find out a moment later that it’s only a surprise because he, too, is a hugger. “I know travel with a child isn’t easy, but please if there is anything you or she needs, do not hesitate to ask. I’ve arranged for her to have a place in the palace daycare whenever it is needed for as long as you are here.” When the door to the sitting room opens once more, Will’s mother and Elsie are announced, and you practically grin at your friend. She loves the rare occasion of a formal dinner because the kitchens are amazing, and also because she gets to pull out her best dresses. Even with the palace in mourning, a simple gown is always beautiful. “You’ll all know Sandy Miller,” you guess, watching Benny light up and give his mother a hug. “Elsie is the palace’s head librarian. And my best friend, so if you want the truly silly stories of my youth, she is where you get them.”

The boys all flock to Sandy, wrapping her in their arms and offering condolences and forehead kisses. As far as she’s concerned, these are all her sons and she’s so happy to see them. “Thank you for coming, boys. It means a lot to us that you were able to drop everything and make it all the way out here, now give me that baby.” She makes a silly grabbing motion at Frankie holding his daughter.

Frankie looks away from Sandy and Xi and notices Elsie standing in the background near you. Even in heels, she’s short and her soft black dress fits her wonderfully. She has dark hair, big green eyes and the prettiest smile he had ever seen. She looked as nervous as he felt. “Hello, everyone.” She raises her hand in a small wave. “Welcome to Freidlyn.”

“Put your tongue back in your mouth, Fish.” Pope chuckles under his breath as you lead his friends further into the room, exchanging words with a man in a uniform as you go.

“Let’s all go through to dinner,” you suggest, knowing that talking over food is always infinitely less awkward. “I’m sure our travelers will be happier once they have a glass of wine and a solid meal in their bellies.”

They all agree – they had been offered food on the plane, but that had been hours ago and they were starving. They follow you to the main dining room, eyeing the ornate carvings and decorations along the walls.

“So how are you feeling?” Benny asks as he walks a few steps behind his brother.

“Surprisingly okay,” Will says. “There’s still a lot that needs to be done and I still feel like I’m in over my head, but Plum here has been such a big help.” He smiles at you.

“Plum, huh?” Benny chuckles.

“When he was four, Klaus and I took him to see the royal ballet perform The Nutcracker.” Sandy explains, a melancholy smile softening her features. “He told me he wanted to marry a fairy one day.” The kindness in her eyes turns to you and her smile deepens just a little. “So I think Sugarplum is a very fitting nickname.”

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Elsie giggles, imagining this giant, broad man as a small boy, eyes alight with wonder and the magic of the Nutcracker. “I’ve always thought you were a fairy princess.” She says to you, nudging you with her shoulder gently. “We all think it’s a good nickname.”

“Who’s ‘we all’?” You ask Elsie, raising an eyebrow when you look down the table at her where she is sitting in the other side of Will’s brother.

“Oh, me, Minna, Lisette, Sandy.” Elsie lists off. She gives you a smirk, “And apparently everyone else at this table.” She says as she lifts her wine glass to her lips.

“I knew you would get Lisette in on this.” You groan softly, offering Will an apologetic expression. “Our other close school friend is one of the palace pastry chefs. Those amaretti cookies you loved last night? They are one of her specialties.”

“My compliments to her.” He says. “So if at any point I wanted more…all I’d have to do is ask her? And she’d just make them?” He laughs, taking a bite of the first course.

“Yes,” Elsie says as she spreads the cloth napkin over her lap. “She’s always willing to bake treats for anyone at the palace. I think she’s more passionate about baking than I am about books, and I love books. Clearly.”

“Good, I think I’ll want another batch soon.” Will smirks.

“She made the petit fours for tonight’s dessert course,” you tell him, grinning when Will lights up with excitement. “And truly, you know all you have to do is ask for anything and it will be provided. I know you’re still getting used to that, but it’s true.”

******

Dinner continues to go well, everyone laughing and exchanging stories. Will had learned that you had quite a wild streak in your early teens and had snuck out multiple times with Lisette and Elsie and another friend when you should have been studying for exams. You had flushed wildly when Elsie told the story, reliving the memories with your friends. Minna had joined later in the evening after the final course to remind everyone of where their rooms would be located and offered to take them herself if need be.

“I will take you up on that.” Santi smiles at her. You noticed the look on her face when she saw Santi and smiled, raising your eyebrows and nodding at Elsie to see how he had seemingly affected her.

“Great, I will be right outside when you’re ready.” Minna offers Santiago Garcia a smile perceptibly warmer than her usual.

“Bro…she’s cute.” Benny jabbed his side. “Don’t be a dickhead.”

“Me? I would never.” Santi huffed.

“She is also his Majesty’s personal assistant, so please be on your best behavior.” The last thing Will needed was to lose a remarkable assistant like Minna because of a temporary affair, but you’re also not their – or her – mother. “That being said? Her favorite flower is tulips and sending an occasional snack to her office with a note would do wonders for someone interested in her.”

“She has never said no to chocolate.” Elsie pipes up. “I have a stash of cute little greeting cards in my desk if you’d like one.”

“Chocolate, snacks, tulips. Got it.” Santi says as he snaps his fingers and looks to where Minna had walked away. “Anything else?”

“Just be kind. She works very hard and deserves nothing but the best.” Elsie responds. “She also appreciates people being direct – she doesn’t care for…what’s that phrase? Oh! ‘Beating around the bush’.”

“Behave yourself, Santiago.” Sandy pats his arm in her most maternal fashion. “Will needs that girl. She’s been invaluable.”

“I really, really do.” Will says. “So please, for the love of this kingdom and my sanity, do not fuck this up.”

Santi rolls his eyes and crosses his heart. “You guys really need to have more faith in me.” He laughs.

“Well, we would, but…” Frankie chimes in, leaving the sentence hanging in the air. “We like giving you shit too much.” He decides to leave Colombia out of this. This is a time of celebration and starting a new chapter. For more than one of them, potentially.

“If only all of us could hang out together, outside of this.” Benny said absentmindedly, bringing his fork to his mouth. “Could be fun to let loose with you all.”

“We have a hard week ahead of us.” You tell him honestly, sipping the glass of port that was served with your dessert. “Once we’ve passed the funeral and Parliament’s formal announcements, then I’m sure we can arrange something.”

“Sounds good.” Benny says. “Can’t wait to do some exploring. This place is incredible.”

“I can arrange for someone from the palace staff to give you all a tour tomorrow morning, if you would like? After breakfast?” If you knew more about the history of this particular palace you would do it yourself, but there are literal professionals who have dedicated themselves to the study, so you won’t insult them by trying. “The king will be occupied for about an hour with the royal portraitist, but at least it’s just photographs for now. Sitting for a painting is excruciatingly boring.”

“I can do it!” Elsie volunteers. “I have two hundred years’ worth of knowledge tucked away and I have time tomorrow morning. A lot of the staff will want to be present for the portraits so they can get a glance at the new king, and I already know what he looks like so…” She offers, hopeful for this opportunity to get to know Will’s friends better, especially Frankie.

“King.” Benny shakes his head at his brother. “I still can’t believe that.”

“Thank you, Els.” If she weren’t so far away, you would reach to squeeze her hand, but you still offer her an appreciative smile. “I have a round of interviews tomorrow that I already wish was over with, so unfortunately I won’t be able to join you.”

“It’s no problem, really.” Elsie puckers her lips and blows you a kiss. “I figure we’d do the rose gardens, orchards, and the main throne room as well as my library. That should take up a good amount of time during the portraits and interviews.” She glances at her phone. “If you’ll excuse me though, I have some reports to prepare for this historic event. Goodnight, everyone.” She gives a smile before turning and leaving the dining room. Elsie always was a busy body, ever since you could remember.

“She is adorable,” Santi comments. “Bet she has a lot of great stories about this place. So," he hums your name. "What do you think of our boy so far?"

“I’m assuming you mean as a man and not as a king?” You raise an eyebrow in Santi’s direction. He’s a straight shooter – as the phrase goes – and you appreciate that about him. It would be easy to just suck up incessantly and heap overt praise on his friend, but his compliments are never empty and his praise always accompanied by anecdotal evidence. “I know the concept of an arranged marriage isn’t easy to wrap your head around in the twenty-first century.” You tell the group of Americans. “But please understand that Will has my absolute loyalty and support. They say that a successful marriage of any kind is built on trust, and a successful arranged marriage is one where you become close friends, with a bond greater than any temporary passion.” The man in question sits to your left at the head of the table, and when you look back over at him you can see the smile on his face. “I don’t think it is a stretch to say that we are friends already. And that bond can only get stronger with time.”

“I have full confidence that this girl right here is going to be the greatest friend I’ll ever have in my entire life,” he reaches for your hand. “Sorry guys.” He hopes it will be more one day, he really does, but he won’t push it – Will would never dream of making you uncomfortable.

“You’re saying all the right things, sweetheart.” Santi smiles at you and raises his glass. “While I can’t say I understand it, I do support this. Will, you know I love giving you shit but I can honestly say I know you’re a great leader and that you’ll do great things. To you.” He toasts. Everyone else raises their glass as well. Even Xi sees her father raise his and follows suit by slightly raising her little fist in the air, making everyone laugh.

“Long live King William.” Is your reply, with your glass raised in the air. It is a toast you will be making for many decades to come – hopefully – and you will never miss the opportunity for it.

“Long live King William!” Everyone toasts. Will smiles, feeling the love flow through the room. With you and the people he cherishes the most in the room, he’s confident he can do this.

******

Breakfast the next morning is an event, the informal serving in the small dining room apparently a much more comfortable time for the king’s friends. The late king’s valet had agreed to return to his position under King Klaus’s son, so wardrobe was no longer an issue to be dealt with, and the housekeeper had menus for the rest of the week laid at your place at the breakfast table to be approved. “I’ll be approving the menu for the state dinner after the funeral tonight.” You tell Will as his friends begin to chat amongst themselves and coo over baby Xi. “Unless you have any objection, I’d like to make it a menu of your father’s favourite things.”

“I think a menu of all his favorite things is a good choice. A small way to honor him.” Will smiles before yawning. He had stayed up late with his friends last night, catching up and playing cards. You, of course, were the hot topic over the many games of poker. Everyone had been thoroughly impressed with you and were excited that you would be at Will’s side.

“Stayed up late with your friends?” You glance around at the trio but don’t make it obvious that you’re talking about them.

“Oh yeah. I won so many pretzel sticks though.” He chuckles. “I’ll be sure to share the wealth with you if you ever find yourself needing airplane baggies for a snack. How was your night?”

“I went through Elsie��s coronation research, reviewed applications for a lady’s maid and an assistant, and signed off on having the things from my apartment moved into my suite. I’m leaving all my furniture with Elsie in the apartment, so it won’t be as much of an ordeal.” You had been exhausted by the time you got into bed, but getting the work done was essential. Your own assistant starts today and you’ll need them just as much as Will needs Minna.

“Wow. That’s…way more than we did. If you need stuff moved over me and the guys can help.” He offers, knowing they would not say no to helping you out. “Santi had a lot of questions about Miss Thorn and Frankie blushed like crazy when their tour with Elsie was brought up, so, that should be interesting to see if anything happens there. That’s allowed, right? Or are there rules for staff and…regular people?”

“There are rules of conduct for staff and royalty, but nothing otherwise. Your father lifted most of the remaining rules when his valet – your valet – fell in love with the prince’s governess. It would have been a scandal if the king hadn’t blessed the marriage.” And even that was fifteen years ago. Attitudes have greatly relaxed since then, thankfully. “It all has to do with the ability to balance life and work. It just so happens that Minna and Elsie have more demanding jobs than most.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like to have those roles, but I can tell they love their jobs. I’m glad they’re on our team.” He pauses, “Pope will definitely shoot his shot with Minna but Frankie? I’m not sure. He’s shy and embarrassed about what’s going on with him, so I’m sure he’ll just pine from afar.” He shrugs sadly. Frankie didn’t deserve what he had gone through after Colombia. “If it works out though, I’ll be happy for them. If not, I’ll make sure it doesn’t affect anything going on here.”

“I admire and fear Minna in ways I cannot quite say.” You laugh softly, shaking your head. “But Elsie is my best friend in the world. Frankie seems like a nice man, and whatever they choose to start is up to them, but I will protect her to the ends of the earth.” The way you tilt your head at him is an honest question and nothing more. “Is there anything she should be aware of? A divorce is nothing to be embarrassed by.”

“You’re a good friend, Plum.” He takes your hand. “Frankie’s situation is…tough. We kind of think he only married Jess because he felt like he had to. She gave him an ultimatum and then she got pregnant, so he felt like he was doing the right thing for the baby. I think what bothers him the most is that she up and left while he was gone, and he came back to a completely empty house. Jess just…packed her shit and dropped the baby with Frankie’s mom.” He sighs. “He’s had some addiction stuff too and lost his pilot’s license because of it so he’s not working right now, but he’s trying. That little girl is his entire world and…I don’t know, I think he’s embarrassed because he’s 42 and just lost everything. He’s a good man, he just feels lost right now. I don’t know Elsie’s situation, but I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he’s looking at her.” Will smiles sadly. “That was a lot, I’m sorry. Short answer – yes, but he’s working on it.”

“Els hasn’t had it easy, romance wise.” Holding your coffee cup delicately in front of your mouth to keep the conversation discreet, you turn to give Will your full attention. “She was engaged after college. The wedding was half planned, dress bought, invitations sent, everything. And then she caught him cheating. It pretty much destroyed her confidence for romance for a long time. She’s only just starting again.”

“Poor girl,” Will hums, adding some sugar into his coffee. “All Fish wants is a happily ever after. I know he can seem tough and grizzly looking on the outside, but that man just wants someone to come home to every night. He’s always said that caring for him is a chore, and he needs someone that won’t make him feel that way and now with the baby…it might be harder for him, especially because she’s so young.”

“She’s young, but doesn’t lack maturity.” Twenty-eight must seem forever ago to Frankie – possibly even to Will – but you don’t let that stop you from running your thumb reassuringly over the back of his hand. “And Xiomara is a delight, not a chore. Anyone who would leave that little girl behind doesn’t deserve her, or her father.”

“She’s precious and deserves absolutely everything in the world. Really the only good thing to come out of that relationship. Jess was just…cruel to him; used to hold Xiomara over his head constantly. I can see him and Elsie together, but they need to figure that out for themselves.” He smiles again. “When the time for children comes for us, I will love them unconditionally. They’ll never go a day doubting they have their daddy’s whole heart.”

“How odd do they think it is?” You ask him honestly, glancing at his friends again. They must have talked about you last night – if you had sat up with Elsie and Lisette, he certainly would have been the main topic of conversation the whole time, too. “For your sake I would truly prefer that they not dislike me…I’m just not quite sure what to do besides show them you have my loyalty.” If one day he was also to carry your heart, it would be a miracle worth celebrating in marriages like yours. That he already has your affection is more than you could have asked for.

“They do think the situation is strange, but they have nothing but good things to say about you. They think you’re wonderful and so do I.” A lightbulb goes off in Will’s head. “…Would there be any way for all of us to spend some time together off the property after the funeral? Like go to a pub or something? I think they’d really enjoy that.”

“If Minna finds out I helped you sneak out of the palace, I am toast.” Frowning at the idea of disappointing him has far more to do with the fact that you’ve finally admitted to yourself that you’re smitten with the man than saying ‘no’ to a king. “Give me a little time to work on her…pitch the idea as letting you get to know your people informally. I don’t think I can manage to have us free of guards, but I think I can talk her down to a couple of guards in plain clothes. Would that…be something you might enjoy?”

“Well, I don’t want to risk you getting in trouble, so whatever you think is best for us.” He agrees. “Just let me know where to be and when and I’m your guy. Got something in mind?”

“What are you two whispering about?” Frankie asks, as he sways Xi in his arms. She sometimes hated sitting in one place for too long so he often times had to walk in circles to get her to keep calm. This morning was a bit of a struggle though with her sleep schedule being disrupted. “Shh, mija it’s okay. Do you want Uncle Will?” Xi looked at him with her big brown eyes. “Guess that’s a yes,” He chuckles, handing the baby over. “He’s a natural.” Frankie winks at you.

“We were debating the merits of a little social outing for all of us.” You tell the older man, choosing to ignore the way your stomach flip-flops at the image of Will with a baby in his arms. “After this week is over he’ll have more free time at night, and he thought you might all enjoy something less formal.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be great. As long as someone can watch Xi? I guess I could ask Sandy. Would um, would Elsie be going too?” He asks shyly, reaching out and adjusting the lopsided bow on his daughter’s head. “Not that that’s a deal breaker or anything…”

Will laughs at his friend. Frankie was a lot of things, but subtle was never one of them. “Fish…calm down. We’ll hash out plans later.” Will says as he adjusts the baby in his arms.

“The daycare is attended twenty-four hours a day, but I’m sure if you asked Sandy to look after Xi, she would not mind.” Will’s mother had elected to have her breakfast on a tray in her suite this morning, and you would have to remember to check in on her later and make sure she’s not feeling ill. More than likely it’s just a bit of melancholy or a headache, neither of which would surprise you. Losing her ex-husband cannot be easy on her by any means. “And I’m sure Elsie would be glad to be invited.” You’ll also be checking in on her, of course, to see what sort of interest she has in Frankie. A lot has happened in a very short space of time. “But gentlemen…” Turning slightly lets you address the whole group. “I do have a bit of a favor to ask of all of you, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything, Plum.” Will says quickly – chubby little hands suddenly on his face. It melts your heart to see him with Xi, and how easy it seems to come for him. How despite there being no relation, the two of them had a close bond already.

“Yeah, whatever you need.” Santiago sits up a little straighter in his seat and Benny nods in agreement.

“I’m sorry to have to insist.” And you really do have to insist, if you want things to go perfectly this weekend. “But the royal funeral, state dinner, and the parade are all official functions of the crown. It is a nuisance, but my assistant is having some suits brought in and a tailor, to make sure each one of you has appropriate clothing for official events. As I said to the king last night, think of them as a type of uniform. Formal attire like you once wore in the military.” Many eyes will be focused on the new king’s closest friends, and you trust them to understand the importance of propriety. If Will is seen as wanting in any way, it will severely hinder the peoples’ embracing him and that would make his first year on the throne unnecessarily difficult. “I’ve even asked for a few things for Xi, in case she was feeling fussy and needed to be near her Papa.”

“You’re having suits made for us?” Benny asks. “Like real, fancy suits? Hell yeah. I promise not to spill anything on it.” He salutes you. The other boys agree – most of them had never worn anything fancier than their dress blues, and aside from that really only considered khakis and a button up to be their best clothing.

“Not precisely,” you admit, a little sheepishly after their enthusiasm. “I’ve reached out to a Freidlych designer with a studio here in the city and asked him to bring a few ready-made suits and tuxedos that he will then tailor to fit each of you. It’s normally something we would ask the royal tailor to undertake, but his Majesty is having an entire new wardrobe made, so he is understandably busy.”

“Still,” Benny replies. “That’s pretty fucking cool. Can we keep them?”

“Benjamin, please.” Santi laughs, placing a hand on Benny’s shoulder. “Try to stay calm.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just really excited. Not for the funeral, but if anyone deserves this kind of life, it’s my brother, you know? I’m really excited for him to have this life.” Benny had always looked up to Will since he was small.

Will quickly hands Xi back to Frankie and wraps his little brother in a tight hug. “Thanks bud, I love you too.”

“Forgive me for interrupting, your Majesty.” Minna’s appearance in the doorway is quiet as a cat and just as quick. “The photographer will be arriving any minute and I’m afraid Lady Rochegnac is wanted in the Morning Room.”

“No interruption at all, honey.” Santi smiles. Minna tries to keep a neutral expression on her face, but you can see the tint to her cheeks, know Santi has her attention.

“Right. We should go.” Will says, offering his arm.

“Have fun you two.” Santi smiles before waving at Minna. He watches the three of you make your way to where the photographer will be set up shortly. He bites his lip and turns to his friends. “God she’s incredible.”

“Leave it to Pope to be sexually attracted to organization.” Benny laughs, nudging Santi the way only a little brother really can.

“Can you blame me?” He deadpans. “She looks like she’d steal my soul in all the right ways and then organize my entire life. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“She could step on you in those high heels of hers and you would thank her for it.” Frankie laughs, gently bouncing Xi in his arms. “I’d rather be snuggled than stepped on.”

“She does and I would.” Santi agrees. “Elsie and those sweaters? Girl looks like she’s begging to be snuggled. Go for it, Frank. Bet she’d let you lay your head on her lap and she’d read to you.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Will’s fiancée’s best friend?” The way Frankie winces is fully dramatic but not insincere. “I don’t have a death wish, man. I mean she’s completely my type but that is a whole messy situation that—” He shakes his head, refocusing on his little girl. “She’s outta my league, hermano.”

“Oh come on, I saw her looking at you during dinner last night.” Benny says. “Frankie, I know you’re dealing with a lot right now with Jess being a massive cunt, but you can’t let her continue to dictate your life. What if this girl is the perfect match for you and you just let it slip by because you’re afraid? That’s not fair to either one of you.”

“He’s right,” Santi chimes in. “What if…what if all of this happened because all of us were supposed to be here? Will is obviously where he’s supposed to be and with who he’s supposed to be with. I’m convinced those two were made for each other with how they act. If I didn’t know the situation, I wouldn’t believe that they’ve only known each other for three fucking days. It’s insane.” He says as he sits on a loveseat.

“You would just pack up your whole lives for this place in a day?” It’s not that Frankie doesn’t see how good this place is. Or how well matched you and Will are. He gets that. But it feels a hell of a lot like rebounding with the cutest girl at the bar after getting dumped. “Look, I’m not saying the Palace and new clothes and gorgeous women aren’t nice. I’m just…just not counting any chickens before they hatch, that’s all.”

“Just be open to it, that’s all.” Santi insists. “And who knows, if I had a reason to stay, I’d sure as hell take it.” He shrugs. They all sit in silence for a few minutes before Elsie comes in. “Good morning,” She smiles warmly. “Minna is busy with the photographer currently, so she asked me to let you all know the tailor is here. We’ll have to reschedule my tour, unfortunately, but that’s alright because evening is the best for a tour of the rose garden anyway.”

“Do we stay in here for do we need to go somewhere else?” Benny asks.

“The tailor is setting up in an empty suite that is big enough to accommodate everyone.” She says. “Oh, and I have a few dress options for the little one.” She said as she lifts up the tiny garment bags in her hand. “If you’ll follow me, please.”

“Where are the portraits being taken?” Santi walks alongside Elsie easily, wanting to keep her chatting and let Frankie relax a little.

“The throne room. Every king and queen have been immortalized in that room for the past two centuries. If you get a chance to look at the portraits you’ll notice the similar art styles up until 100 years ago. They stopped the oil portraits with King Edwin in 1920 and moved to photography since it was easier and the royals didn’t have to sit for so long, but the frames are all custom made by the family that made the originals! They’ve been making ornate frames for the palace for so long, it would feel criminal to go with anyone else.” She smiles. “The garments chosen are all created by a long family line too. Freidlyn is filled with creatures of habit, I suppose.”

“So they’ll have to take more once the coronation happens?” Benny already feels like this royalty stuff is going to make his head spin in circles, but he wants to get it right for his brother. “Once she’s queen, I mean? Like a portrait of both of them?”

“They will! After these initial portraits as well as the wedding portraits, they’ll need one more set, until they have children. The post-coronation portraits will have them with the royal jewels and crowns of Freidlyn. Those portraits will be used on our postage and displayed in government and official buildings here as well as souvenirs, kind of like how England has the royals on those decorative plates and teacups. It’s silly, but the tourism board thinks it’s good for us.” She shrugs as she continues to lead the men to the designated suite. “Oh, I took the liberty of getting a playpen and some toys from the daycare center for the baby so you can have a break.” Elsie tells Frankie.

“Thank you.” Frankie still isn’t totally okay with leaving Xi with strangers yet, no matter how well trained they are, and he’s grateful that Elsie spared the extra thought for him and his daughter. It’s more than her own mother would have done.

“Mademoiselle Poincaré, thank you for delivering these gentlemen safely.” An elegant-looking person in an expertly tailored black suit with a black silk shirt underneath and spiked-heel black leather boots bares the same authority holding a clipboard than Minna Thorn does, but with several extra inches of height. “My name is Jules Sorten, I am Lady Rochegnac’s assistant, and there is lots to do, so I thank you for arriving quickly. Monsieur Miller first, s’il vous plait?” He gestures to a slightly older man picking his way through a variety of suits. “This is Monsieur Ronan. He will be fitting all of you today.”

“My pleasure, Jules. I’ll be over here if you need anything.” Elsie says.

“I am ready. Measure me.” Benny walks up to Monsieur Ronan with his arms open. “Make me fancy.” It’s almost adorable how excited Benny is for his new suit, and he’s determined to take good care of it.

Frankie places Xi in the playpen and she’s instantly enthralled with a canvas doll dressed as a princess. Elsie sits near the playpen, but far enough away to not interfere with Jules’ work. She thinks of what could have been had her fiancé stayed faithful to her – maybe she’d have a little girl of her own to dote on. She smiles at the small baby patting the doll to her chest and Santi notices with a smirk on his face.

“Looks like your alterations will be minimal.” Ronan says with a pin between his lips once Benny is in the suit picked for him. “This is good.” A few pins in place and Benny’s suit is nearly perfect – the alterations would be done quickly and easily.

“Hear that guys? Minimal and good.” Benny laughs, standing as still as he possibly can.

“I could make a joke…” Santi says, “but there is a lady present, so I’ll hold off.”

“Monsieur Morales?” Ronan beckons the next man forward while helping the king’s younger brother out of his carefully pinned jacket.

“That’s me.” Frankie says, stepping around Santi and onto the little platform that sat in front of the three large mirrors in the suite. He slips on the black jacket easily, standing still while Ronan puts the pins in place.

“So,” Santi sprawls out in a chair beside Elsie while he waits his turn. “What exactly does a state dinner entail? Am I going to have to keep these monkeys in line by force?”

“Well, the king and the future queen will be at the head of the table and parliament will take this time to introduce the future king to everyone as well as go over what his duties will be, and which of King Klaus’ business he will have to continue. It’s fascinating, really, and there will be so much food you won’t know what to do with yourselves.” Elsie pauses. “…do you think you’ll need to keep them in line?” Will’s friends had seemed well-mannered and nice so far, but would there be an issue?

“A gentle reminder that whooping and pounding the table probably isn’t appropriate in a palace,” Santi smiles reassuringly. “We’re fairly informal guys, and we want to make sure everything is perfect for Will, that’s all.”

“Oh, yeah I don’t think Parliament would particularly care for anything other than polite applause or an ‘allez’ during a toast.” Elsie stands quick to check on Xi, who was still enthralled by the little doll. “So maybe letting them know that would be a good idea.” She says, reaching down to brush back some of Xi’s wild curls - definitely inherited from her father.

“Frankie’s a pretty good dancer.” Santi throws it out there hopefully, watching Elsie dote on his goddaughter with a smile. “His sisters made sure of that. I don’t know if there’s dancing at these things, but he can hold his own.”

Elsie blushes, “Oh, I mean there will be some musical accompaniment but it’s not often that people will get up and dance, but maybe?” She giggles. “Why? Did he say something about wanting to go dancing? I can recommend some places nearby.”

“Not exactly.” He admits, clearing his throat a little. “But I know that if you wanted to show him some places, he’d love to go.” There’s just no way Frankie will get his ass in gear and actually ask Elsie out unless they’re here for like six months, and Santiago Garcia considers himself an excellent fucking wingman when his buddies need him.

“I could definitely think of some places to show him.” She smiles shyly. Frankie was handsome and she wanted to get to know him better. “You know, if he wanted to find a job out here it would be so easy for him…” Elsie glances over at him. “All of you, actually.” She adds quickly before getting flustered. “Just, you know, if you found it difficult to leave after being in such a beautiful place for a while.” She chuckles.

“Honestly?” Santi shrugs and places a kiss in his goddaughter’s hair. “Most of us don’t have a lot to go back to when we leave here. Benny’s lifeline is his brother, and Frankie’s whole life is this little bebita. My family is all over the world and I’m already at my fuc—sorry,” he grimaces. “At my wit’s end with this new job. We could stand a little bit of all this Freidlych goodness.”

“Well, should you all decide that Freidlyn is where you belong, I can help with housing. The palace owns some cottages on the outskirts of town that are meant for noble and royal family members, but I think Minna and myself can talk parliament into letting you move into them, if you’d like. They’re all fully furnished and have solar panels. Actually, here.” She pulls out her phone and opens up an album. “I have photos on my phone if you’d like to take a look.” She hands the device over to him. “They’ve all been maintained really well since they were built in the early 1800s.”

“Jesus…Is this where you live?” Santi whistles low, scrolling through the pictures of the gorgeous estate houses. “Ya know…my great-great-great-abuelo a few hundred years back was Spanish nobility. Think that gets me an in?” He jokes, unable to take his eyes off the photos. “I mean, I’m descended from his mistress, but it’s gotta count for something right?”

“Oh, no I have a flat in town.” Elsie says. “I don’t think it would count for you, unfortunately, but maybe Minna can work her magic. That woman can make anyone say yes to her. It’s amazing.” Santi hands the phone back to Elsie and she checks her messages – there’s one from you asking how it was going. She types a quick reply that it’s going well, and the suits are fitting perfectly as far as she could tell.

“Wouldn’t take me much to agree to whatever she wanted.” The line is out of Santi’s mouth with a wink, and he saunters off when the tailor calls his name.

Elsie laughs and shakes her head. Men are impossible, she thinks as Frankie walks over to her. “The suit looked great on you.” She smiles. “I laid out the options for the baby if you’d like to take a look at them.”

“Thanks.” Frankie blushes, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously before looking over at the nicest baby clothes he’s ever seen in his life. Are there designer baby clothes? Because that’s what all of this looks like. “You’re really an angel for helping with all of this.”

“It’s no trouble, really. I enjoy it.” She tells him honestly. “I was just telling Santiago about housing options here should any of you fall in love with Freidlyn enough to stay. “I think I can convince Minna to be on board if you, Santiago or Benny decided to live here…Freidlyn is a wonderful place to raise a child.”

“I’m sure it is.” He’s only seen the airport and palace so far, but if his baby girl’s life included a palace then things would be pretty fucking good. “Santi’s all ready to just pack it in and move. I think the second he laid eyes on Minna, that was the clincher.”

“Oh, I suspect it’s mutual admiration. Santiago is exactly the type of man Minna Thorn goes for.”

“He’s a good guy.” Frankie nods his head, playing with the hem of a black linen baby skirt that had a matching onesie with a cute little collar on it. “They all are. We give each other crap but that’s only out of love.”

“You are too.” Elsie places her hand over his. “I can tell you all love each other like brothers, and it’s really nice to see. Everyone has noticed how much the king appreciates you being here for him. He lit up as soon as he knew you all had arrived.”

“Will’s been there for all of us through everything.” Frankie explains, trying not to stare at the place where she’s touching him but somehow also not able to look away. “Didn’t even tell us when his fiancée broke up with him a couple of years ago because Benny had lost a fight pretty bad and was taking it really hard. He put everything into training with his brother and ended up telling us two weeks after it happened when Pope opened his big mouth to ask if Stacy was coming to the next fight.”

“His selflessness is what will make him a great leader and greater partner. He's so much like his father in that way.” Elsie squeezes his hand. “I have to ask though…he’s fond of her right? I’m not imagining things? The way they look at each other is just…” She looks away with a dreamy look in her eye. “Romantic. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me the way William looks at her.”

“He was practically moping last night when Benny told him he thought it was too soon to make a move.” Frankie confides. Though Ben Miller wasn’t typically known for his restraint, he had reminded Will that this woman was the rest of his life and he needed to think about the long-term. “He had us brainstorming proposal methods during our poker game.” Frankie sighs, trying not to look at Elsie too directly when he does so and give himself away. “You’re young, Elsie. You’ll find someone worthy of you. And if you don’t, I’m sure there are plenty of unworthy guys who will still line up around the block for a chance.”

“Thanks, Frankie.” She smiles at him. “I’m glad William is taking this seriously. She’s very smitten with him and he’s really good with her, and for her, if I’m being honest…so what were the proposal methods?” She gets up quickly and walks over to a small cart near the door, pouring herself and Frankie fresh cups of coffee.

“Santi said he should do it in bed.” Frankie rolls his eyes after thanking her for the coffee – whatever it is they brew here is seriously amazing. “Which completely goes against the slow-and-respectful theory. Benny said an after dinner walk in the garden, which is sweet, but Will thought he could come up with something more creative.”

Elsie laughs at the look on Frankie’s face. “Hm, well, while the bed idea is interesting, I don’t think it’s probable for this situation. If it were me, I think I’d opt for the rose garden, or up on the lookout point up in the mountains. You can see the entire palace grounds and the city from there. There’s also the option of a carriage ride around the lake, or a nice boat ride…” She pauses. “Sorry, I’m a bit of a romantic and I’ve thought of scenarios like this a lot. She’ll happy with anything though, as long as he asks with his heart. That’s all that really matters anyway, right?” She takes a sip of her coffee.

“Sure it is.” Frankie eyes her with soft amusement over the confession to being a romantic. They could all tell that right away – just from the way she talked at dinner last night – and it cracked his poor, deadened heart in ways he hated to admit. “But you’re her best friend. You’ve got to know her fantasy proposal, right?”

“Yeah, but don’t laugh, okay?” She gives him her best puppy eyes. “There’s a butterfly conservatory not far from here that we’ve been going to since we were little and it has really nice walking paths throughout, and at the very end there’s a big fountain with a waterfall and she always comments about how perfect this spot is. Every time we’ve gone a butterfly has always landed on her shoulder. She thinks this spot is where she’s ‘supposed to see her fate’ so…maybe that’s it. Maybe a proposal in front of that waterfall with all the butterflies and fairy lights is the fate she’s been destined for.” Elsie tells him confidently. “Or Disney World, but there’s no time for that, unfortunately.”

“Elsie, you’re a genius.” Frankie beams at her, striking out on instinct to give the small woman a tight hug. “He wants it to be so right for her. To show how much he appreciates that she’s sticking with him.” He doesn’t let go quickly, the hug lingering for just a moment. “He thinks it should be her on the throne, and he’s determined to make sure she gets it.”

She’s surprised by Frankie’s hug, but grasps onto him tight, not wanting it to end too soon. He’s warm and smells of laundry detergent, cologne, and something just Frankie. “I can make some calls and have it reserved when he’s ready to ask. It’s beautiful at night with all the lights on.” She pulls away but doesn’t break eye contact. “They both deserve to be on that throne.”

“He doesn’t know his own worth sometimes.” Frankie swallows, forgetting for a split second if he’s talking about himself or his friend. “I think the right person will help him remember. Hopefully it’s her.”

“I have a good feeling about it.” Elsie says, and maybe she means about her and Frankie as well. “I think it’s a good match; written in the stars and all that poetic imagery.” She smiles.

“I hope so.” He smiles just a little bit more softly, pulled away by the babbling insistence of his baby girl.

“She’s absolutely beautiful, by the way.” Elsie gets off the couch and kneels down in front of the playpen where Xi is babbling. “Aren’t you?” The baby girl reaches her arms out like she wants to be picked up and Elsie pauses for a second before picking her up and settling her on her hip. “What dress do you think, little princess?” Elsie points to the dresses laid out near her father.

“She’s just lucky she didn’t get my nose.” He huffs, watching as Xi continues to babble and grab at a black romper onesie with lots of ruffles and frills.

“But your nose is wonderful.” Elsie tells him as she grabs the frilly romper for Xi. “This one? Yeah, this is a good one.” She coos at her.

“Are you seeing this?” Benny whispers to Santi, the two of them on the other side of the room sipping their coffee after being done with their fittings.

“I don’t think they have any idea that anyone else is still here.” Santi shakes his head, knowing his friend was just as gone for Elsie as he was for Minna.

“You guys are all gonna get married and ditch me.” Benny pouts, refilling his coffee cup again.

“Never, little man. Never gonna happen.” Santi ruffles Benny’s hair. “I’m sure there’s a stunning girl out here for you too. That can be one of our final missions, yeah?” He chuckles.

“You and your damn missions, Pope.” Benny shakes his head.

“Hey,” Pope smirks. “This will be a damn good one, okay? Benny’s true love is out there somewhere and it’s our job to make sure she doesn’t get scared off too fast.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri

NA: @absurdthirst @peachtreemoonshine @xoxabs88xox @luminescentlily @babypink224221

My Masterlist!

#Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam character fanfiction #Charlie Hunnam fanfic #Will Miller #Will Miller x reader #Will Miller x you #Will Miller x female reader #Triple Frontier #Triple Frontier fanfic #Princess Diaries AU #Royalty AU #William Ironhead Miller #Freidlych for Life #Freidlyn #arranged marriage

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wellpresseddaisy · 1 year

Text

The Demon Prefect Rides Again

Bertram Harroway put on his evening clothes as if headed to war. In a way, he was. It would be an emotional war, he supposed. He let his valet help him into his coat and glanced down at the letter from Vera Dalrymple that kicked the whole thing off.

Darling Bertie,

That certainly wasn’t what she’d called him when he found her in a compromising position with Hector Grantham in her fifth year. And Eliza Dearborne in her sixth.

As you are possibly the only person on this planet who can make Albus Dumbledore mind you,

He thought, perhaps, one other existed, but it didn’t do to dwell on Gellert Grindelwald. He’d never liked the little wart, no matter how infatuated Albus was with him.

could you please do something about him? I popped into town last weekend and ran into him in Diagon. He looks dreadful. And his robes!

Bertram sighed. He knew precisely what Vera meant.

He’s gone old on us. I know it started creeping up on him in the aftermath of That Man followed on by That Gobby Upstart in the seventies, but something is really, terribly wrong. I suspect a whacking great load of guilt and grief, but really, Bertie, he looks like a stiff wind will carry him off. He looks more like he’s in the middle of his two-hundreds than just past his first century.

Trust Vera to look at a dark lord terrorizing the country and call him a gobby upstart. He’d seen photos of Albus recently and he agreed with Vera. Voluminous robes only his so much and Albus always had been nervy, no matter what he pretended otherwise for the magical public.

Honestly Bertie, I’m worried. He’s always worked much too hard and taken on too much responsibility, but he’s never been so frail before. He wouldn’t even go to tea with me and there is little Albus Dumbledore loves more than a cream tea and a good gossip. He doesn’t go anywhere, either. He used to love the theater and I can’t remember when he last made up part of a theater party. I think he might be punishing himself, in some bizarre way.

That was the part that spurred him into action. A quick note to the Deputy Headmistress and he secured a Saturday evening away for Albus.

He isn’t researching and he won’t meet with friends and it’s as if all he’ll allow himself is duty. It can’t go on. It simply can’t, Bertie. You remember how he got after exams? We’re headed for a crash the likes of which we’ve never seen and I’m so frightened it’ll take him from us. You’re the only one I could think of who might get through to him. Our Vally needs the Demon Prefect to come out of mothballs.

He'd see what he could do. Vally Dumbledore (nicknamed for the way he’d valiantly come to the defense of anyone he thought wronged) was the most infuriatingly stubborn young man he’d ever met.

We’ll plan a little reunion for all of us this summer. Dahlia wants everyone to see her gardens, in any case. She’s doing some interesting things with roses these days. Or perhaps, if you can persuade Vally to take care of himself, we could make up a theater party. I hear the latest from that Carruthers girl is splendid fun.

With love and thanks,

Vera

PS It probably isn’t my place to say so, but I’m going to anyway. He always had. G.P. for you and you ought to have swept him off his feet, all Oxford-polished, before That Man had a chance to get his hooks in. You helped create this problem by being as obtuse as a box turtle, so you can fix it.

Bertie sighed and went down to the Floo room. He knew he bore some responsibility in never acknowledging his own feelings. He simply hadn’t thought it appropriate since he was a perfect and then Head Boy. He could easily have picked up their acquaintance once Albus left Hogwarts. Although…there came a point where Albus pushed everyone away after his mother died, when all those lovely plans he’d made fell through so he could care for his sister. He never really let any of them back in after.

He wondered if he could have made a difference there, kept Albus from ending up so cut off from the academia he loved that he clung to the only person able to keep up with him. They would never know, he supposed.

He checked his pocket watch and collected coat and hat from his hovering valet.

“Thank you, Deverell. Don’t feel the need to wait up if I’m late returning.”

“Of course, sir.” If he didn’t know better, he’d think his valet quietly judging him.

Most likely the man judged his early departure. If he knew Vally as well as he once did, it would take quite a bit of persuasion to rout him out of his office and make him dress properly, especially if Vera was right and he was somehow punishing himself for his failures, perceived or otherwise.

Vera, irksomely, was usually right.

As he stepped to the Floo and gave the direction, he wondered if he should bring his old slipper. It always made an impact on a recalcitrant Vally.

-----------

Hogwarts hadn’t changed in the decades since his leaving. Like Oxford, she endured, only she housed grubby schoolchildren instead of grubby undergrads. Professor McGonagall sending him through the internal Floo system came as a surprise. He’d never really thought about the professors needing to get somewhere quickly before.

He stepped out into the Headmaster’s office and brushed the slight traces of soot from his clothes.

“Good evening, Vally.” He began.

Albus looked up sharply from a thick book propped on his desk.

“Bertram Harroway? What are…how…”

He ended by staring as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Thankfully, he looked a good bit better than Vera described. Still too thin, of course, but he’d always forgotten meals or spent an hour just moving his dinner about his plate when in the grip of An Idea (or nerves). He looked as if he'd let go of some of the guilt and grief weighing him down. His hair, which had turned white practically overnight, had regained its more youthful ginger hue. The deep lines carved into his face by decades of worry seemed to have filled in. He looked more like he ought to look, like a non-magical of fifty or sixty instead of a man nearing the end of his life.

“Vera sent me, Vally. She said you’re getting old and could do with a bit of livening up. I thought you might like a night out. I have a box at the Savoy. They’re doing Pinafore at the moment and I know how you feel about well done G and S.” He moved into Albus’ office, helping himself to a chair when Albus continued to stare.

“Vera Dalrymple said she’d rather be boiled in Frederica Morningside’s failed potions projects than ever communicate with you again via any medium.” Albus finally spoke.

“I had just gated her for the rest of term. You can’t blame her for being distraught.”

“I couldn’t possibly go out on such short notice. This whole idea is patently ridiculous.” Albus nodded firmly, as if he’d made up his mind.

“You can go and get dressed right now is what you can do.” Bertram insisted. “The show starts at eight and I booked a table for supper after, at the Palace.”

“India Palace?” He at least looked interested at that. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve been there.”

The wistful note in his voice belied his firm refusal.

“It was the day you got Greta Saatchi’s autograph after standing in pouring rain for two hours and we spent a further two getting you properly warm again when you returned.” He chuckled at the memory.

How had they been that carefree?

Well, he hadn’t. He’d had to play the heavy when the miscreants tried to slip back into the castle with the Hogsmeade crowd, as if they hadn’t slipped off to London for a matinee and a curry. Albus shifted slightly, as if remembering Bertram’s method for warming him up.

“We were thrilled when you finally left to terrorize Oxford, did you know?”

“I’m sure you were. I’ve returned just to terrorize you, Vally, you know?”

“Oh how lucky am I.” Albus replied acidly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve decided.”

How well he remembered that rather sulky tone. He certainly heard it often enough.

“I suppose I could go and fetch my slipper if you need convincing? I don’t care to see Vera so distressed, you know.”

It wasn’t often that anyone shocked Albus Dumbledore into complete silence.

“You still have that…that thing?” It always entertained Bertram to see shades of their youth in his friends.

“Of course I do. It’s an exceedingly motivating piece of footwear. Now, be a good chap and go get dressed. Theater waits for no man and Professor McGonagall assured me you were overdue for a night out. Something about you working all hours?” He put a bit of the old Demon Prefect in that one, the same tone he’d used countless times when locating an Albus who quite forgot about such mundanities as curfews.

Albus was out of his chair and halfway to the door to his quarters when he stopped.

“What do you mean Professor McGonagall assured you?” he asked waspishly.

“Of course I wrote her first to ensure you could have a nice evening with an old friend. It’s no use organizing a surprise one can’t pull off in the end.”

Albus gaped at him. “You cannot just go about organizing the world as you please.”

“It’s worked for me thus far.” Bertram answered mildly. “Do go and get dressed, Vally.”

“I can go as I am.” Albus insisted.

“Oh no you are not. I know you own perfectly nice evening clothes. Go and put them on.” He cared very much for Albus, but he’d rather chew his own arm off than attend a public event with Albus wearing golden yellow robes patterned with swirling suns. “We aren’t leaving until you are attired to my satisfaction.”

Albus stared at him for a moment before turning, very clearly not stomping to the door, and entering his quarters. He shut the door just shy of a bang.

Bertram settled down, quite pleased with his evening’s work. They’d make the theater in a timely manner now, and he could treat Albus to a lovely meal after. He’d have to suggest Dahlia and Hitty invite a little party for dinner one evening. And perhaps Albus would join him for the theater more frequently now. Albus, now more than ever, needed the people who cared for him to pull together.

The feelings he once thought faded raised their heads again, like a parched garden in the rain.

#long ago and far away #albus dumbledore #the poor man is being run roughshod by overbearing former prefects of whom he was inordinately fond #and perhaps is still fond of him #hp society/the ton #hp the season au #hp the season/the ton au #I'm at the very least amusing myself with this #and as a reminder they were in school in the late 18/early 1900s #Times Were Different #And honestly Gryffindor much preferred Bertram deal with them than being sent to the head of house or headmaster #he at least wasn't a sadist and tended to be fair #although dumbledore's 6th year marked the one time he told the lot of them to just pretend they'd been dealt with harshly #because they got a donkey up the astronomy tower and dressed it like the current minister and Harroway was laughing too hard to do anything

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strwberri-milk · 2 years

Text

Passing Hands: Chapter 7 - Sunlit Meetings

Bridgerton!AU || Diluc x Fem!Reader || Drama, Falling in Love, Slow Burn || 3 240 words

“That ball was an absolute nightmare. I have no idea why you thought it was a good idea to have me be in such close contact with your picking for so long,” Diluc grumbles, sprawled across his chaise lounge.

As punishment for making him socialise, Kaeya was now doing his work for him. Despite how flippant the other man seemed to be he was actually very good at doing the work demanded of him when forced into it. It didn’t stop him from being a thorn in Diluc’s side which he despised, practically scowling as he tried to forget everything he was subjected to.

“You seemed like you were having fun though brother,” Kaeya states clearly. “Much more fun than myself at least.”

“That’s right. How did you manage to survive that brute of a Valet?’ Diluc asks, finding delight in hearing about Kaeya’s failed adventures.

“The mere fact that Rin grew to be the woman she is under his guidance is surprise enough to me. Honestly, that man does not have a bone of fun in his body. But I guess that’s why she’s so wily when you look away from her. He chewed me out for slighting her but I managed to make it up to her,” Kaeya responds with a smile, clearly happy with whatever reaction he managed to get out of the woman.

The use of Lady Kholer’s given name doesn’t shock Diluc in the least, knowing that she had quickly warmed up to both brothers upon meeting them.

“And how did you do that? Have you even told her you’ve been courting someone on my behalf? That kind of misunderstanding is enough for you to lose your permission to propose you know. And if that happens, how am I supposed to trust you with my engagement?” Diluc taunts lightly.

“Bold words coming from a man who was copying my play book to the letter. You normally aren’t that receptive to perspectives after all. A part of you knew that you needed to do what I’d do to make sure you didn’t scare her away and look what happened! You managed to keep her attention on you for the whole dance no matter how much I tried to steer her away from you.” Kaeya sounds slightly snubbed and Diluc laughs to himself at the fact.

“That’s because any woman in existence easily falls for anything you say to them. You’re just a playboy who does whatever he wants and manages to charm anyone you come into existence with. Of course if I want to get their attention I should play the part of a pretty boy charmer who’s more focused on thinking with his genitals than his brain,” he smirks.

“The fact that you’ve admitted that means I’ve effectively proved my point without having to lift a finger. And there was a reason for the way I was behaving last night. I don’t normally antagonise every person I come across - even though that would be fun.”

“Oh? Do tell me the method to your madness.”

Diluc’s sarcastic words are met with a well aimed scroll to the forehead he doesn’t bother to duck away from. It bounces off him harmlessly and finds its way into his lap, unrolling it to reveal some request from a neighbouring viscount who wanted him to attend a party he was hosting.

“Most people being accosted would find an elegant way out of the situation, don’t you think? Coming up with polite excuses is a true marker of being a part of high society after all. If you can’t lie, you can’t make your way through this world, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose you have a point,” he agrees, tossing the scroll back to Kaeya.

“And yet, your dear admirer decided to fight back instead of backing down and running away with her tail between her legs. Is that not most interesting to you?” Kaeya pauses his writing to take notice of Diluc’s reactions.

“So she is spirited. What of it?”

“You really mean to tell me that you would prefer a quiet, demure wife as opposed to one who’s willing to call out your bullshit? Which, might I add, I’ve been doing ever since I was a young lad? And yet I’m not rewarded for my efforts in any way. How disappointing,” the other man sighs, continuing his work at Diluc’s desk.

“You do have a point, and yet your point also makes no sense,” Diluc smirks, wanting to wind his brother up a bit as vengeance for the night prior.

At this Kaeya groans.

“Are you serious? Just because I point out something it inherently loses value for the virtue that I said it, not you?” he complains, already knowing what the redhead’s answer will be.

“Precisely,” Diluc says quickly, not missing the way Kaeya’s face changes.

“Wow Diluc. Very kind of you,” Kaeya pouts, putting aside a stack of his finished work.

“At least try to show the help some more respect. We are working very hard to get you in an optimal position for your future and yet here you are dismissing those efforts,” he whines.

“I don’t recall telling you I was desperate for a partner,” Diluc scoffs.

“Maybe not but I’m sure that it’s much better than drowning yourself in paperwork. You don’t even make social calls anymore. Maybe you should, get yourself out of the house more often and make your intentions to marry even more obvious,” Kaeya suggests, pointing outside.

“It is a lovely day after all.”

“I’d much rather do anything but that,” Diluc grumbles, pulling on his coat and hat anyway. Kaeya’s eyes light up at the sight as he stands from behind the desk.

“Are we going to go for a promenade? Perhaps we’ll meet your suitress. We can ask her how she enjoyed the ball, see how her impression of you has changed at all,” he says excitedly, stretching a little as he uncrumples from Diluc’s chair.

“And why would it have changed?” Diluc asks as Kaeya gets ready as well, the two walking through the estate together.

“Well, maybe you should change. If we want my plan to work, it does hinge on you actually being you no matter how standoffish that is. That little persona you put on at the ball is not going to cut it long term and I fear being that kind to everyone around you will cut your lifespan short and I do not plan on becoming the Duke of this house in any way.”

“So now I’m allowed to be myself? Thank you Lord Alberich for the permission I was unaware I had to obtain,” he responds sarcastically.

To further the extent of his sarcasm Diluc bows lowly to Kaeya, prompting him to lightly tap the back of his head as they wait for their carriages.

“Just be your normal cold self and we’ll see what happens. After all, we’re trying to trap you into a marriage, not her.”

Thankfully for the brothers, the day is as nice as they thought it to be. On the way to the park Kaeya decided it necessary to further his grovelling, picking up his Lady to bring her on their walk together. That left Diluc to keep himself entertained by listening to Kaeya dig himself into deeper holes at the behest of Rin’s underhanded comments and mocks, shaking his head slightly at the strange interaction.

He finds his thoughts wandering to you as the two continue to bicker affectionately, a little lost as to why it was that he found you interesting. It was true that the initial reason was for much the same as Kaeya’s - of course it was strange to see a letter addressed to himself from where you were living. It seemed that most people there understood they had absolutely no chance at getting his attention. After all, they had nothing to offer him. No new land, status, nothing. He essentially had everything he needed at the call of any of his servants. You knew this, and yet you reached out to him.

If it weren’t for Kaeya’s knack of getting himself involved right where Diluc didn’t want him to be, he knows that he would have responded to your correspondence much later. Maybe not even at all. He was incredibly curious to know what kind of mind belonged to the type of person that would dare venture so far out of the typical comfort of societal etiquette and found himself begrudgingly pleased to meet a lady who was both polite and pretty enough to keep his attention for more than just a few fleeting moments.

He observed you carefully before making his arrival at the ball, only appearing when he did when he realised Kaeya might have been getting dangerously close to crossing a line he shouldn’t. From what he did see, Kaeya’s diagnosis of you was correct. You didn’t seem to be cracking under the pressure of being named the Queen’s Diamond which testified to your strong disposition. It’s something he can admire at the least, and for whatever reason it only adds to his intrigue of you.

It made you one of the more promising candidates, annoyed internally that Kaeya hit the nail on the head so cleanly with just a couple minutes of watching you at Diluc’s side before slipping down to mingle with the others. You were worthy of his attention, that much he can deduce but his need to best Kaeya and refusal to allow himself to even fancy the notion of falling in love with someone - especially when there are so many more important things he needs to do - was hindering any fanciful thoughts. Even if dancing with you was so much more fun than he anticipated it to be, and your conversation was much more riveting than anything he would have gotten from the other people who were unfortunately uneducated when trying to talk to him about something of a higher calibre. He never faults them. Just the house they were raised in.

Not only that, but your unique perspective would be welcome. He knew he’d love to hear more about your work, what kind of things you did on a daily basis and how different it must be from him. If he thinks back hard enough, he can remember some habits Kaeya had when he first came to their home he thought were strange that the boy eventually grew out of. Now older, he wonders if those were just simple things that typical households of a lower social strata. Whatever the reason, he feels a flutter of excitement at the prospect of seeing you at another ball Kaeya hosts, jolting out of his thoughts when he hears your name.

“I had no idea you’d be going out today!” Rin says, Kaeya pulling lightly on Diluc’s wrist to bring the two of you closer together.

Now, under the bright light of the sun he can see you as you are, wanting to avert his gaze to ignore the slight tendrils of temptation rising up in his chest. The way you look at him is so different from the hungry or scheming stares that he’s used to, a kinder weight in your eyes.

“I thought it’d be nice to get some air. I had many callers this morning and it was beginning to get a little overwhelming so I decided to leave and get some fresh air,” you laugh.

“Miss [Name] it’d do you well not to say that outside,” the other woman whispers, making sure only your small party hears what she says.

“Coming off as overconfident will only ostracise you from other suitors and even offend some of them. Many of them expect to feel as though you are only looking at them, even if there are half a dozen of them standing around in your drawing room waiting for your attention.”

He sees your face fall a bit at her words as you nod, avoiding meeting both his and Kaeya’s gazes.

“If this is still about last night I’m sorry I pushed you that far,” Kaeya says in an attempt to smooth things over.

“I just find it quite fun to push people’s buttons. Don’t take it too personally. It was not meant to be a slight against you.”

“I’d be much more appreciative if you left me alone, or at least refrained from being such a pest,” you say snidely, not really having any effect on him.

“If you’re so opposed to me then perhaps you’d rather spend some more time with the Duke. Of course there’s the worry that you’d be compromised in being seen alone with him,” Kaeya muses, Diluc giving him a dirty look.

“I was unaware I agreed to be paraded like a show horse,” he hisses into Kaeya’s ear, receiving a reluctant shrug of his shoulders.

“You told me I had complete control over your romantic endeavours. Here’s me exerting such privileges. I suppose since we have to stick together to keep her honour I will just walk a little ways behind you,” Kaeya whispers back.

“You will walk in front of me and that’s that. I refuse to let you eavesdrop without my knowledge.”

To further accentuate his words Diluc moves Kaeya to stand in front of him, making him take a few steps ahead of himself before giving you his attention. You still avert his gaze and he does the same, Kaeya’s sharp reminder to act more like himself keeping him silent. Walking behind him are his own staff and Lady Kholer’s, both groups finding mild amusement in the way he flounders.

“Quite lovely weather this morning,” he starts, trying to figure out what sort of direction he would like to take your talk today.

“Indeed. Last night the clouds seemed quite dark and I thought it would rain. Shockingly enough, it has not.”

Your voice has a slight edge to it, leaving him confused as to wonder what it is that’s forcing you to act in such a manner. As far as he understands, he did nothing to encourage such a gloomy disposition towards him. He treated you fairly and indulged in your conversation pleasantly, finding warmth in it despite having to present himself as Duke Ragnvindr, ever charming and affable instead of Diluc Ragnvindr.

However, the conversation finds itself in a lull, refusing to continue. The two of you stand next to each other awkwardly, trying to find something to continue with when someone clears their throat behind you.

“Pardon if I shall overstep my boundaries but My Lady spoke quite highly of you last night Miss [Name].”

The two of you turn to look at the man who speaks and you give him a slight nod.

“Thank you Sir…?”

“Kholer. That is what everybody calls me, outside of My Lady,” he smiles.

“I am her Valet, should you be curious,” Mr. Kholer continues.

“And why is it that you share the same name then?” you ask, curiosity again besting you.

Diluc finds it endearing, and every bit refreshing as Kaeya suggested it was in the letters he sent to you, and was apparently continuing to send you. He can’t help but find his attention firmly on you, the hand you gave him tightening the slightest bit over his arm as he walks. Unbeknownst to both you and him, the slight fragments of your identity you were showing him indenturing yourself further into his being than he’d care to admit.

“As her family is not from this country, the customs she partakes in may seem quite strange. She decided to adopt my name as a young girl. That is why you’ll see she breaks common etiquette several times over, no matter how many times I try to teach her otherwise. Look at her - she’s ruining her skirts by trying to get closer to that swan,” Mr. Kholer says with an exasperated voice, directing both your attentions.

Diluc looks over as do you, the two of you watching as she does exactly what her Valet said she would. Unsurprisingly, Kaeya follows after her and Diluc can feel your body shaking with barely concealed laughter at the sight of his spotless slacks quickly getting dirtied. A misstep almost sends him to the ground and you burst out loud with laughter, holding onto Diluc steadily.

“For such a smooth dancer I had no idea that mud would be the thing that bests him,” you manage to say between gasps, making Diluc chuckle as well.

“People don’t believe me when I tell them Lord Alberich is not as smooth as he thinks he is. To the untrained eye he is the picture of high society. To me he’s nothing more than the small boy who refused to sleep alone because there were monsters under his bed.”

“Really?” You look back at the young Lord. “A picture of elegance such as that -”

“Conceals with it a fear of arachnids.”

You laugh again at the Duke’s quick wit and he feels a sense of pride at being the one to encourage such pretty sounds to leave your lips. Because he does not plan to marry he finds that there cannot be any harm in indulging in that prettied noise that comes from them.

“To be quite blunt with you I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you say after you’ve caught your breath, still partial to the slight giggle.

“I had always thought of those in the upper mantles of society to be much more dignified and well spoken. Instead, here you are constantly making fun of your brother and letting every emotion flicker across your face.”

His hand goes up to cheek in confusion. Perhaps he wasn’t willing to go through the effort needed to create a perfect veneer needed to fully cloak his true intentions but it still should not be that easy for you to deduce his thoughts. It’s most likely because the thought of you being a threat to him did not come to the forefront of his mind.

“Maybe I should change that,” he says instead, quickly steeling himself against your charms.

“No, no that’s not what I meant at all. I suppose I am being quite presumptuous in assuming we had a more intimate relationship with each other,” you say awkwardly, doing your best to avoid his gaze.

“The letters you send me just seem to welcome me so wholly whereas in person you’re a lot more different. I find myself looking forward to meeting the man who wrote the letters slowly as you become more acquainted with me.”

Diluc frowns, realising that he probably should have read over Kaeya’s letters much closer. Clearly whatever he was saying was making you feel a lot more involved with him when the most he had done so far was sign his name at the bottom. But the fact of the matter was he couldn’t let this fall through. If Kaeya caught wind that it was done purposefully, who knows what lengths he’d go through to get Diluc to cooperate the next time.

Not only that but a sinking feeling in his gut doesn’t make him feel confident in following through with breaking the connection you think you have with him. It permeates his chest with a cold hand, forcing him to swallow some unknown fear with a cup of your smile.

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #bridgerton!au #bridgerton!diluc #passing hands

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princeescaluswords · 1 year

Note

Is calling Allison Argent “anything with a pulse” not being used in a misogynist context? / You tell me, Pew. Is calling and reducing Allison Argent to "Scott's dead white girlfriend" not misogynist? You are the one who used those words after all

I would usually put something like this in the trash bin, but you brought up something that I want to talk about: context.

I did say the words "Scott's dead white girlfriend" because I was expressing my displeasure with the show's writing in Apotheosis (5x20). In it, for those who might not know, Scott is fighting with The Beast, Sebastien Valet, who by sheer coincidence (something else that displeased me) shoves his claws into the back of Scott's neck, thereby seeing images of Scott's memories of Allison.

I would argue that describing Allison in Apotheosis as "Scott's dead white girlfriend" is not misogynist because, at the time, she was actually dead, she has always been white, and the memories in which she was appearing were flashbacks to romantic and emotional scenes between them. So yes, I did describe Scott's dead white girlfriend as "Scott's dead white girlfriend."

But why did I do it? Why was I disappointed by Allison's appearance in Apotheosis? Well, that's something I feel is worth talking about.

Contrary to some people's opinions, I've never been shy about talking about how the writers of Teen Wolf fed into fandom and Hollywood racism by establishing repeatedly that Scott, to be a hero, can never act in behalf of his own emotions, but must overcome adversity and pain only to be in service to others. Don't get me wrong, it's a noble characteristic, and one that makes me like Scott, but it became racist when the production veered, as it so often did, into making it mandatory, in a way they never did for any other especially white character. It seemed to me that in Season 5, the writers had characters forget that Scott didn't seek to become a werewolf, he didn't seek to become an alpha, and so had his own mother give him a speech in Status Asthmaticus (5x10) in which she told him, essentially, that he had to let people abuse him in order to be a good leader. In a similar vein, The writers had Mason say that Scott had to forgive Liam in Damnatio Memoriae (5x12). Fighting to preserve the lives that would be lost to La Bête du Gévaudan isn't enough, Scott has to let people like Stiles and Malia and Liam hurt him and the Beast himself violate him to justify his own survival.

DEAD. In keeping with that injustice, the violation of Scott's memories in Apotheosis is portrayed as a triumph. It's just another thing that Scott has to sacrifice to save people, and the writers were very eager to portray this as necessary. "Allison saved him," Stiles tells Lydia, but the truth is -- Allison is dead (at that point). She didn't save shit. Scott isn't dead, but the writers hardly care. How does Scott feel about another serial killer rooting around in his head? We'll never know. The writers put the consequences of that into Things That Are Unnecessary, such as Mason's reaction to being the host for Valet.

WHITE. We all know how hard Kira got screwed as a character in Season 5B. We know that scenes elaborating on Kira's time in the desert was cut, and the way that she was written out was flaming hot garbage, to be compounded later by the "her story was finished" crap of Season 6. Contrary to the Asshole Anon's rantings, I do pay attention to the way the production treated Kira and Arden Cho, and while I also know that Jeff Davis placed special narrative importance on Scott and Allison's relationship, the execution of Kira and Scott's relationship in 5B (especially the Cheap-Ass Green Screen scene) managed to damage the relationship for the audience in a totally unnecessary way, compounded by the fact that after 5x20, Scott never mentioned Kira again.

So yes, I was critical of how they employed Allison in Apotheosis, and I said so. If they wanted to show how powerful Scott's love for others and willingness to sacrifice they could have spent more time on how that affected Scott. The dynamics of Scott saying goodbye to Kira at Shiprock and then very next scene having him wordlessly focus on Allison (instead of letting Stiles tell Lydia about it, it should have been Scott) are just terrible. I don't think that describing how the production messed up is misogynist at all.

Indeed, one of the things I loved most about the movie is that there wasn't a hint of Scott having to justify his survival in how he treats other people, especially in how he treats Allison.

#allison argent #scott mccall #kira yukimura #racism in hollywood #misogyny in hollywood #scott mccall defense squad #apotheosis

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farfromstrange · 2 years

Text

Foreigner's God: Chapter 7

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: There is something incredibly off about Tony’s behavior, and Eliza decides she can’t do it anymore. She’s done. The fight leads to several revelations. One, she might be going slightly insane and two, Clinton Church is actually quite the nice place to go to if you’re having a panic attack. Other than that, Matt is still himself. While that might lead to some tension between them, she’s never been happier to have a place to go to that isn’t lonely, and he cares. This friendship might just be all she needs, after all.

Warnings: this is so long, mentions of drug abuse, alcohol consumption, there’s some foreshadowing, Tony Stark is being slandered, a phone call with Peter, hallucinations, panic attack, religious imagery, confession, praying, S3 spoilers, Eliza’s ever-lasting guilt, arguing, yelling, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), crying, not feeling good enough, some bad humor & cliché age gap joke

Other characters: Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Tony, Clint, Peter Parker, Father Lantom & Sister Maggie, also some random homeless man just trying to help a girl out

Word Count: ~ 10k

A/n: I tried working out some of my own religious trauma with this one and also… well, this shit is plot-heavy so you might need a clear head to read this. If anyone asks, no I’m not okay. And no, Tony just acts like an asshole. He ISNT the villain. Still haven’t done him dirty enough, but we’ll soon be done with the slander. The next chapter will be posted tonight as well!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Read Chapter 7: right where you left me Here on AO3!

18+ MINORS DNI

The first time Eliza Bennett met Tony Stark was the day Loki destroyed New York. She’d only been working for SHIELD for a short amount of time back then, trying to get accustomed to her new life, her new identity. It’s safe to say she has always been exceptionally good at it. At being an Agent, being a hero, and every other thing way beyond her maturity level. She was never taught any better. Being an Agent in the field resembled her life at Hydra almost down a tee. Except she wasn’t killing people and she had her own free will, which was nice, but also not so much. She followed orders but she had a choice to stay or to start a new somewhere, get a taste of that human lifestyle everyone kept telling her about. It was new and scary, and she hated the fact that it didn’t feel like her.

May 3rd, 2012.

She was undercover at a gala when she heard the static rushing in her earpiece. “Mission’s over,” Natasha said.

“What?” Eliza looked down at the glass of Martini in her hand, then back at the dance floor on which the Senator she was watching kept twirling his date around. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” she said. “I practiced my tango, like you told me to. It’d be a shame if I couldn’t show it off!”

The woman laughed. “I’d love to see it, but this is urgent. Pack up! We’re going back on the Helicarrier. I’ve got someone else covering our Russian spy senator and his bimbo.”

“Don’t call her a bimbo, Nat.“

“But it’s true. Admit it.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Eliza left the party, the black limousine waiting for her at the entrance. The nice valet opened her the door, but he was dangerously pale around the nose. She cocked her head. Someone had been threatening him.

Natasha sat in the dark of the backseat, holding a file. She should’ve expected the redhead to make her appearance so soon. Urgent meant nothing less than time sensitive and when it came to matters with such a label, she was always first on every scene.

“Wait, weren’t you just in some Russian guy’s lair?” she asked her.

“Yeah, Coulson bailed me out. Threatened the guy. I almost had him. Ended up kicking his ass like the little bitch he was.”

“Did you get the intel?”

“What do you take me for?”

“Of course, you did. So, what’s up? What’s up with the urgency?”

“I know you’ve never done this before,” Natasha said. She handed the file over, her hand enveloped in black leather gloves. “But the fate of the world depends on it, and we could really use your help right now.”

She opened the brown folder, the first page a picture of a glowing blue box. “The tesseract,” Eliza choked out. An object with the most magnetic pull.

Fury never once allowed her to be less than ten feet of it. She had to stay in the circle. Why, she didn’t know, but he had his reasons.

“Yes, it’s recently come into possession of a, uh… I don’t know what he is. An alien? Some guy with greasy hair and a spear. He’s not of this world, that’s for sure. He stole it from the base earlier tonight.”

“This thing has unimaginable power. How could he just steal it?”

“As I said, he’s an alien. And he’s Thor’s brother. Turn the page.” She did. The next series of pictures were screenshots from the security cameras. The man with black hair stared straight at the screen. He was attractive, sure, but the crazy in his eyes killed the mood.

“Jesus.” Eliza shook her head. Somehow the glow of his scepter felt… familiar? It was just a picture, it was probably stupid, but she felt drawn to it nonetheless. “What’s the procedure?” she questioned.

Natasha smirked. “We’re getting the band back together.”

With the band, she meant the Avengers. The Avengers Initiative failed before. Imagine her surprise when the pair set foot on the Helicarrier to find the group of unlikely allies meddled together for the first time ever. None of them looked like they belonged there.

“I could imagine better things than to be trapped on here with the Hulk,” she told Natasha. “And the guy whose brother is currently threatening to take over the world.”

“He’s still my brother!” Thor snapped from somewhere in the distance.

“He killed eighty people in two days.”

“Well, he’s adopted.”

“And I’m a former Hydra operative. What’s your point?”

“See, so even you have made mistakes, earthling.”

Eliza glared at the blond man. He was attractive. He was tall and muscular and every woman’s dream. In that moment though, all he did was infuriate her to the point, her blood boiled.

“Don’t call me earthling, you daft Asgardian Shakespeare.”

“I feel like you have been misinformed about me. I’m Thor, the God of-“

“Thunder, yeah, I know. I don’t care.” She turned to the rest of the team. “If I end up squashed,” - she pointed at Bruce - “under the edge of a Vibranium shield,” - she pointed at Captain America - “shot with an arrow through the eye,” - her eyes narrowed at Clint - “hit with a magic hammer or ATTACKED BY A FUCKING METAL SUIT, MISTER STARK!” Tony felt her finger poke deep into his chest. “I will make sure we all die up here,” she finished. “You got that?”

But Natasha taught her all about control, so she swallowed the red threatening to expose her and focused back on the task at hand.

Tony was actually the only one to eye her with curiosity instead of fear. “Do they usually start this young?” he asked.

Eliza used to be a very superstitious person. She didn’t trust anyone outside of her fellow Agents and even then she kept her distance. She was a scared girl in a big world, not knowing who she was or how she got there, with powers raging inside of her that she couldn’t quite grasp. The Avengers were a pool of strangers that she was tossed in without ever having learned how to swim.

So, naturally, when Tony made his jokes, she put her guard up. “No,” she told him, “We usually start younger.”

“So, baby spies?” He’s never been a particularly serious person.

It was twisted that this was the thing that enthralled him about her. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut for the life of him. Eliza was so frustrated to the point where she considered putting a bullet through his iron suit. Though when he flew that missile into space, she couldn’t help but pay her respects to his heroic antics. The careless man she’d met before somehow appeared in a different light then.

“You’re a great kid,” Tony said to her after the battle. “We should do this again sometime.”

That was four years in the past.

Eliza warmed up to Tony instantly. The respectful, caring side of him. It was the original reason why she agreed to move into Avengers Tower in the first place. She ditched SHIELD for the Avengers. He mentored her. Tony was the first person after Fury to see something in her, willing to do just about anything to bring it out in her.

Tony Stark made her feel loved for the first time in her life. Perhaps that’s why it hurt so much to see their once so-invincible bond break apart.

Eliza asked herself where exactly they went wrong. Was it something she did or something she could’ve prevented? As so often, there was nothing to explain Tony’s behavior other than the fact that he was just Tony.

Tony wasn’t the man he used to be, and he certainly didn’t portray as the kind of person he wanted to be. He turned from an idol into an antagonist – Eliza wished it would’ve been a sudden change, but reflecting on the past two years she realized it was meant to happen.

Eliza knew better than to try and make him see. He had to fall head-first into the abyss to realize his mistakes. He needed a swift kick in the ass and an excellent punch to the face. She couldn’t do that. Life had to do it to him.

Like Steve once said to her, “If holding onto something hurts you more than letting go, you need to let it go. If it’s meant to be, it’ll come back to you. If it’s not, at least you got rid of the pain.”

By the time Happy pulled up to the compound, Eliza accepted the fact that it would never be the same again. She had to let go eventually. She would give him one last chance, she decided, and if he decided to turn around and shit on it, she would take Steve’s advice and save herself. For once in her life, she had to listen. Holding onto the wrong people was her best talent, but sometimes even talent has to be laid off to protect your fragile little heart.

“We’re here,” Happy snapped her out of her thoughts.

She dreaded every step into the compound. Her heart beat up to her throat. The oxygen supply sank with every passing second.

Eliza took the familiar road to Tony’s office. He was waiting for her behind the door. She hesitated, hand on the handle. She hated confrontation. She didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t her turn to apologize, but somehow she felt like she had to. Sad, wasn’t it? He had her judging guilty without even trying, even when she didn’t need to. She was just that dependent on his approval.

She pushed the thoughts away. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult. Adults don’t make their lives dependent on one person, no matter how much they mean to them. Adults are supposed to stand their ground. She had to learn how to do that. She did it the previous night, she could do it again. Tony didn’t own her.

“You came,” Tony’s voice sounded breathy, hungover, from the corner of the room.

Eliza exhaled, a mix between a sigh and a scoff. “You left me no choice,” she said. “Sending Happy to my place was a desperate move.”

“I couldn’t reach you. At first, I thought maybe you lost your phone, but then I realized you blocked my number. If anything, you left me no choice. I wanted to talk to you without dozens of people around to ask stupid questions.”

“Why?”

“You left before I could talk to you last night.”

“Seriously? You’re just gonna act like this is all it is? Miscommunication?”

Tony scoffed. She saw the bottle of Scotch on his table, the half-filled glass. It was ten in the morning.

“Are you drunk again?” she asked.

“You don’t get to do that.”

“I don’t mind day drinking, I only mind hypocrisy.”

“I asked you here to apologize for what I said.” He took a sip.

“You were drunk, Tony.”

“And I’m sorry for that. I had one too many drinks because I didn’t want to face Secretary Ross sober. Every time I see him, I’m reminded of Rogers and what he did.”

“What Steve did?” Eliza glared. “You both screwed up! It wasn’t just him.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“It kind of seems like you don’t.”

“Give me a break!”

She flinched away. Her eyes fluttered close, her feet carried her a step back, and her arms instantly lifted themselves in front of her chest as if physically defending herself was going to block the words from entering her ears. It didn’t.

Tony’s frown crumbled. He didn’t have the power of empathy on his side, but he saw the fear displayed in her eyes and he felt a sudden ping of regret. “I’m sorry,” he said, quieter this time. He opened his arms - a peace offering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“You’re drunk,” she whispered. The tears stung behind her still-closed lids. “You’re drunk,” she said once again. She opened her eyes again. “I know what chronically drunk people are like, so I know that anything you say could either be complete bullshit or the honest-to-God truth. Tell me, why should I believe anything you say right now?”

He watched the tears slide almost elegantly from the corner of her left eye, down her cheek, and her neck. He waved his hands a little. “I’m not drunk. I’ve had two glasses of Scotch to fight off the hangover.”

“There’s still alcohol in your system. Too much to consider it sober.”

“You’re right, I’m not sober.”

“I know. What I don’t know is what you want from me. My pity?”

“No!” Tony scoffed. “It’s just been hard for me,” he began to explain himself. “Ever since Rogers - Steve - left, I’ve been feeling like I failed. Do you know what that’s like? I’m the man who killed the Avengers. I saw it. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No, hear me out. When that little witch Wanda played with my head, I saw it. I saw all of you, dead. It was my fault. I’m comparing these two right now and I don’t see much of a difference. Look, I’m on my last straw right now.”

Eliza shook her head. “You could’ve told me,” she said.

“I tried! I tried to tell you that this is my worst nightmare come true. So many times.”

“How, by calling me a lost orphan in front of the most powerful people in New York City?”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I was drunk and angry and I didn’t mean it.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand because you’re not making any sense.”

“I made our friends enemies of the State. I did. Rogers, Romanoff, Wanda, all of them! I killed the Avengers.”

“And you know, Sam, Scott, even Vision, just because he’s in love with a fugitive. Can’t even say their names, can you?”

“Jesus!” He scoffed. “You’re turning my words against me.”

“Can you blame me?” Eliza asked, challenging him.

“This isn’t about blame.”

“What, you want me to feel bad for you?” She cocked her head. “This is on you, not me. If you’re waiting for the pity party, you’re not getting any.”

“Listen, kid. I know you’re struggling and I’m sorry I’m not there for you like I used to be, but this is hard on all of us. Especially on me. This shit show is getting on my last nerve. The press, Ross, fucking Rhodey and Happy- you know, it’s not easy when the world is resting on your shoulders,” he said.

The exasperated laugh was an answer of heavy proportions. “Boohoo, cry me a river, Tony! Honestly, you either complain or apologize, you can’t do both and expect me to roll with it.” She wished she had the same glass of Scotch he was carrying only so she could swallow the horrendously bitter taste on her tongue, but she didn’t. She was glad she didn’t. She wanted to be better than him. She wanted her words to be sober. She wanted him to understand, for whatever the desperate attempts were worth.

Tony shrugged. “It’s true. There’s a lot more I’m carrying that you don’t know about,” he said, “and I’m glad you don’t.”

“And you don’t know about the shit I have to carry,” she replied. Her lip twitched into a sour smile. “But I’m glad you don’t.”

He smirked, but it was fake. The way she spoke left no space for interpretation of just how sour she was. She was mad, offended, disappointed, all of those things and yet, she came. She always did.

“All I need is some time to clear my head, and Scotch. Lots of Scotch.” He poured himself another glass from the small bar in the corner of his office, a small mahagoni table overlooking the New York skyline behind the compound. The perfectly trimmed grass and bushes in the front yard lead to the small forest separating the Avengers from downtown. It was beautiful.

“You need time,” she repeated his words. “It’s funny because when you say it’s hard on all of us, I feel like it only entails you. I had to clean up your mess, again,” she said. “I shouldn’t have to. I struggle too, you know. I’m not saying you aren’t, but maybe you should take your own words into account and think about the people around you. You aren’t the only one who lost, we all did.”

His shoulders tensed. Something changed. Was that regret she saw in the colors around his soul? She could’ve sworn she saw black somewhere, but it was hard to tell with the mess he was and the alcohol that seemed to turn the shade of anger darker, and the pride threatened to consume him.

“I always have to take care of everything. I trained you, Eliza. I made us a team. I got you all a job you could count on. You had all the benefits in the world. Healthcare, stability, housing… you had all of that. It was safe. You guys were safe. And yet - and fucking yet - we managed to blow up. We always do. Everything always blows up, no matter what I do, and I’m tired of watching it happen without having an ounce of control in it. I think it’s time I finally focus on myself.”

“How can you say that after everything that happened? I can’t take this anymore,” she said, and she meant it. “I have to soften all the blows. It’s not even my job!”

“You need to learn how to take responsibility,” he argued.

“Responsibility?” That was the last straw. “I’ve been taking responsibility since the day I got here! I’ve been cleaning up the messes you’ve made again and again. Now, I didn’t mind. We were a family, but lately, it feels like I’m just doing it because I’m supposed to. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted being used like that.”

“Being used?” Tony asked, voice dangerous as he rose from his chair. “I did everything for you. You got a home, money, and a job. You met people others can only dream about. What else do you want?”

“Maybe some appreciation, for a change. I mean, are you treating Peter the same way?”

“Peter- is this what this is about? Are you jealous of that kid?”

“No!” maybe a little. “My point is that I was around Peter’s age when we first met. After everything you learned over the years and what I’ve been through, don’t you think it’s my right to tell you your place?“

“Pepper took you under her wing, Happy worries about you all the time, I mentored you. I got you back on your feet. I made sure you didn’t go to jail. Hell, I even funded your drug addiction when I didn’t even know you were taking those stupid pills, and yet, I’ve never asked you to pay me back!”

“Oh, please,” Eliza spat back. “What would you ever do without having my mental illness as a justification for your actions? Honestly, you’re acting like that’s all I am. Fuck you, Tony! I thought you cared about me.”

“I do!” he said. “All I ever did was because I care about you. I saw your talent when no one else did. Not even Fury shaped you the way I did. So don’t tell me you’re not being appreciated! I care more than anyone else on this planet. I saved your life, goddamnit!”

“Jesus Christ, Tony, why can’t you just listen?” Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. The water crept dangerously close to the brim, threatening to bubble over. Eliza wasn’t even surprised.

She’d cried more in the past couple of days than ever before. She was a wreck. Time had done its damage. Life had taken its toll. She was bound to break eventually, she just never thought it would happen like this. She never thought it would come to this. The world stopped spinning the day the Avengers left her behind.

“I’m so sick and tired of fixing everything,” she said. “I’m not your therapist. Hell, I’m the one who needs one. I’m not just some messed up orphan that’s become your burden. You were everything to me…” The ocean was too wide and she never learned how to swim. “I looked up to you. I idolized you and wanted to be like you. You taught me so much and yet nothing prepared me for the person you’d be.”

Eliza wiped her cheeks furiously with the back of her hand. “This isn’t you! Ever since you and Steve fell out and the Avengers broke up, you’ve been spiraling out of control. You changed! You turned into this wreckage of a man, a shell of who you used to be, and that shell is filled with so much sour hostility. The Tony Stark I know wouldn’t risk everything by putting down the guests at his party. He wouldn’t hurt his friends and family in front of everyone. The Tony I know would listen to what I have to say. He’d take my worries into account. The Tony I know would do anything to protect me, but you’re not there. You haven’t been there in a very long time, but I lived with it because I still had hope. I had faith in you, Tony.”

He aggressively downed another glass of Scotch, knuckles turned white from the hold he had on it.

“You taught me to always believe in the good in people, and help when someone needs it. I made it my personality trait. What happened, Tony? What happened to make you this way?”

“You don’t get to do that,” he said. “You don’t get to ask me what happened when you were the one who completely lost herself all those years ago!”

“I picked myself up again! I admit that I’m broken, but that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on people. That’s what you do. You blame everyone but yourself for everything that’s wrong with you-“

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You won’t listen!”

“Oh, I am listening. I am listening very well. Let’s talk about what I’m listening to, yeah? Except for the fact that you’re trying to make me feel bad for one stupid slip-up-“

Eliza interrupted him with a frustrated groan, “It wasn’t just one stupid slip-up, Tony. It’s a fucking series and I’m done watching!”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he said. “You call me a hypocrite, but while you accuse me of neglecting you, it’s you who won’t listen. You think you’re so smart, prancing around at night, behind my back, with a criminal? And then you have the nerve to pretend like you’re a good girl and lie to my face! That’s what hypocrisy is, Eliza! You’re a hypocrite!”

The words tasted like poison on her tongue.

Tony was nowhere near done. The fire just kept on burning. “You’re jealous of Peter? Well, he learned his lesson after I called him out. You didn’t. You did the exact opposite of what I told you. Fucking hell!”

“What are you even talking about?” she asked.

“Daredevil.”

“What?” The name rang in her ears. Her mind instantly went to Matt. It made her wonder just how much he knew.

“Don’t play dumb now,” he bellowed. “I know you’re working with him. You’re following down circumstantial leads that almost got you killed.”

“How would you even know?”

“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, remember?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” she tried to justify herself, but it was essentially all useless. Her secret was out. What terrified her most was the fact that she didn’t care.

“It’s not? Who do you think is keeping the press off your ass right now? It’s only a matter of time before your little secret comes out and then it’s Ross knocking on my door all over again.”

“You didn’t listen to me.” She remained dangerously calm. “So I took matters into my own hands.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He threw his hands up. “You’re not a vigilante! You were with Pfeiffer when he got shot. What did he tell you? Did he play into your suspicions?”

Eliza cocked an eyebrow. “How do you know I was there?” she asked. The truth itched the back of her brain.

Tony sighed, nostrils flared. “I put a tracker into your SIM card when I got it for you.”

“You did what?”

“In my defense, you tend to get into trouble quite a lot.”

It wasn’t that easily justified. He was monitoring her like a criminal because he didn’t trust her. If her heart hadn’t been broken already, it surely would’ve broken right then and there.

“This only proves my point,” he said. “You could’ve gotten shot over a suspicion! And now Pfeiffer is dead and his blood is on your hands.”

“Don’t you dare,” she ground her teeth. “It was Hydra, you and I both know that. You just don’t want to acknowledge the fact that we failed.”

“You’re paranoid, Eliza. I stand by that. People died because of your inability to stay out of shit that doesn’t concern you-“

“It doesn’t concern me? Tony, they stole my childhood, they experimented on me and tortured me! There’s nothing more of my concern than that stupid organization! This is so much bigger than we thought. You’d know that if you’d just listened.”

“I listened, I didn’t like what I heard so I’m cutting you off,” the statement was final, she saw it in his eyes. But Eliza was done for good. He could do whatever he wanted. She was done.

“You know,” she said, “We used to be such a good team. We swore to eliminate threats. What happened to that?”

“Agendas change,” he stated.

“No, not this time. You just want to control me. I don’t know why, maybe you’re scared or maybe you just don’t have any faith in me. Either way, I’m not gonna stop. We both know that.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Am I? Or am I just not following your orders?”

“Not following my orders is a mistake. Trust me. You’re doing the wrong thing, Eliza. You’re chasing the wrong ghosts. If you do this, I can no longer protect you.”

She shrugged. “I’ll take that chance.”

“You don’t understand. If you do this, I’m gonna stop. If you do this, you’re no longer an Avenger.”

“I haven’t been an Avenger since Berlin.”

The emptiness in Eliza’s eyes put a distance of miles between them. Tony was waiting for her to pull back from the edge of the cliff, to run back into his arms. He was waiting for her to make a different decision, one that didn’t entail losing her, but one look into her eyes told him that he was no longer welcome. He wasn’t just losing her, he already had.

“I didn’t ask you to keep the press off my ass,” she said to him. “If Ross wants to arrest me, let him. I’d rather go to jail than sit back and do nothing to save this city. If you decide to do the latter, that’s your choice. It’s not mine. I want to see them burn the way they burned me. If you try and stand in my way, I might just burn you too.”

“Are you threatening me?” Tony asked.

“No,” she smiled, “it’s a promise.” The door handle felt hot instead of cold under her hands this time.

She looked down. The veins underneath her skin were glowing bright red instead of faint blue. In the reflection of the window, she caught a glimpse of her eyes. She was standing knee-deep in her misery and the pain did little to help her stay in control.

He’s lying to you. She tilted her head. Her reflection moved towards her. The window turned into a one-way mirror. Smoke started to pool at her feet. The stranger was trapped behind the glass. She pressed her hand against it, eyes switching between Tony at his desk and Eliza, clawing at the door handle. A strange magnetism kept her tied to the metal.

She tipped her chin. Leave. Her mouth wasn’t moving, so how could she possibly hear her voice, so close yet so far away?

Don’t look back.

“If you walk out that door,” Tony said, one last attempt to close the distance between them, “We’re done.”

Eliza pulled. “That’s fine by me.”

“Maybe you should just think this through-“

“I did. I made this decision on my own. Nothing you say or do can change that. I may not be an Avenger anymore, but at least I’m not the one that killed them. You killed the Avengers, Tony. You ruined us. Do with that as you will, but if I were you, I’d rethink the decisions I made.”

She wasn’t sure what came over her.

“Eliza-“

“No, I’m done. Paint me the villain, I don’t care. At least then I know I’ve done it right. Here,” Eliza reached into the pocket of her jeans. The film of pictures weighed heavy in her hands. She hesitated, though the decision was a conscious one. “Good luck cleaning up the mess you made.” She let the snippets fall to the floor. Her face was broken in half, eyes scattered around, all familiar faces that once had been there but were long gone. “I’m not gonna do it for you,” she said. “You can lie in this yourself.”

All the strength Eliza displayed at the compound magically evaporated the second she set foot outside. She didn’t even tell Happy why she was running or where, for that matter. She wasn’t even sure where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to get out; she needed to put not only emotional but also a physical distance between her and Tony and everything else that reminded her of the life before, and just get out of the life she once lived for good. It was over anyway.

Happy gave her space, he always did. He thought it was because of what Tony said, but the truth was much worse than that. She couldn’t stand being around him. He would do anything for her and that thought was so suffocating, especially after the conversation, that all she wanted was to abandon him completely. It wasn’t for her good, it was for his. She would always push him away, she would always hurt him in some way, and he would always come back, no matter how hard she kicked him.

Eliza only realized she was running when she came to a halt in front of the memorial established downtown. Their names were engraved golden on the metal plate. The Battle of New York. A silent reminder of the day the sky opened up and aliens invaded the planet. Proof that humans weren’t alone in the universe, after all.

She’d torn apart the last piece of them she had left to prove a point. It was pathetic. Those were just names on a plate, meaning the world to people. The faces lay scattered on Tony’s office floor. People read the sign and remembered the destruction. No one cared about the faces behind the names, unlike they used to.

They used to be a family. The names on the sign slowly grew into strangers. Eliza felt like everyone else, bystanders watching from the outside. Just names, no faces. Those heroes saved the world once, but that was all they were. The memories of happier times slipped further away. It seemed like she’d watched the time fly by from her little bubble like she hadn’t been part of life back then, only a watcher amid the public eye.

She’d told Natasha once, “I’m afraid that if I accept this to be true, if I accept this one good thing for myself, that I’m gonna lose it eventually. Because there has never been anything good in my life before and I’m scared. Good things don’t come to people like me, not without a price.“

How right she’d been. Yet she was foolish enough to accept Natasha’s reassurance. “Stark may not be the most promising person, but I think he’s onto something with this group,” she’d said. “You deserve this more than anyone. You deserve to be part of a family. No one’s gonna take that away from you. I can’t speak for the rest, but I, for one, will always be there for you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

I guess always was a lie, too.

Eliza wiped her nose. “No,” she whined. “Get out of my head!”

The sight must have looked insane. Anyone walking by could have easily mistaken her for a psychotic.

Why? It’s not like I’m doing anything.

“Then why the fuck are you talking to me?”

I’m… not?

“Liar.”

Well, to be fair, you kind of brought this upon yourself. The young woman looked like her. Same hair, same body type, same eyes, but there was something eerily different about her too. In every nightmare she had, the demons didn’t have a face. She was tormented by memories and self-deprecating thoughts.

If hell was real, she assumed this was how Satan and all her demons spoke because she hated it and it made her want to die.

Did you really think you could continue lying to yourself?

“Peter, hey,” she spoke as soon as the line of her phone clicked. “How are you?”

“Liz?” the boy’s confused voice sounded from the other end.

“Hi!”

“Is everything okay?”

She silently wiped the snot from her nose. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” she said, and then she laughed. She laughed as if what she’d said was the truth.

“Oh, you just usually don’t call me unless it’s urgent,” he said. “So I thought something happened. Is it the Avengers? Do we have a mission?”

“Yeah, about that…”

He’s not gonna understand.

“What?” The school bell rang distinctively in the background. “I actually have class right now, so if it’s not that important and you don’t mind, maybe you could make it quick? Or perhaps call back another time? Not- not that I think what you have to say isn’t important. It always is! It’s just- I’m kind of behind with my grades and stuff and I really want to get into MIT. Spider-Man has really been kicking my ass lately.” He chuckled.

You’re gonna hurt him.

Eliza copied him. “It’s fine. I just- I have something to tell you and all I ask of you is to just listen. Can you do that?” she asked.

There was a pause. “Okay,” Peter agreed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m officially done with the Avengers. That’s the truth.”

And you can’t change who you truly are.

“What-”

“Hear me out. Don’t say anything. Please.”

Don’t fool yourself again.

“O-okay.”

“Truth is, I’m done, Peter. I’m no longer an Avenger and I no longer want to be. Tony said some things… he said and did some things and I just- I quit. I know you look up to him, it’s your thing. You see him as a mentor and I want you to continue doing that, but my time here is over. It was the second Steve got onto that ship, I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. I tried to stay strong, and I tried to keep my faith, but I can’t. You’re too young, you haven’t known them as long as I have – hell, you didn’t know them at all. It’s a good thing, Peter, because that means you’re still innocent. There’s still hope,” she said.

The tears clogged up her throat and it was getting significantly harder to breathe. “I know you wanted us to be friends and I’ll continue being there for you, but it’s time I face the facts. The Avengers are done, at least the way I know them. I should’ve left earlier. It was only a matter of time before this would all escalate. There are some things you can’t be involved with, like the things I’m about to do, the things you’re gonna hear about me… The less you know the better.”

The cabby stopped where she told him to, his head turned patiently, waiting for her payment. She exhaled into the phone.

“Eliza, you’re scaring me,” Peter’s voice was small.

“Don’t be,” she told him. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m just trying to make amends before it’s too late, that’s all.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but it sounds like you need me right now. Maybe I should-”

“Drop my number, Peter. It’s for the best.”

“What, no!”

“I’m sorry.”

The phone cracked between her fingers. Glass scratched the inside of her palm. She watched as the broken device fell to the ground. She stepped on it, once, twice, until it was nothing but flat garbage. The SIM card was broken entirely, and the tracker was disabled and gone for good. Tony didn’t have anything on her anymore. She could go wherever she wanted, do what she wanted and say what she wanted. She didn’t need him and he didn’t need her. It was over. She was free. Though if that had been the truth, she should’ve felt that way, too. She didn’t. Instead, she felt fucking trapped. She felt chained. War was only just beginning.

Eliza stood alone in the middle of downtown New York. There were no walls around her, not a shield to protect her. People bumped into her on their way down the street. The briefcases of businessmen dressed in black suits hit the back of her knee, making her stumble left to right. They were all so focused on themselves, she was nothing but a mere rock in the way that could be pushed aside. In our most natural habitat, we’re all selfish assholes focused solely on whatever target we’ve set our minds to.

The voices were so loud, she could hear the conversations overlapping. Her ears were ringing. Emotions swarmed the air like an army of mosquitos. The tornado was heading straight for the village, strong enough to destroy everything in its path.

Congratulations, Eliza. You just fucked up everything good in your life.

“We’re a team,” she remembered Steve saying. “Ain’t getting one without the other.”

“I think Steve might be onto something,” Wanda came up to her one night. “I don’t know a lot about working as a team, but you guys make it seem easy. Makes me want to try and be better, you know.”

“You might just be the last straw holding this team together,” Natasha said shortly before they arrived at the UN, a dreaded talk on the plane after the events in Lagos.

“We knew this would happen eventually.” The worst part wasn’t the words coming out of Steve’s mouth, it was the way he said them. He sat in the dark, glass of Scotch in hand, blue eyes endless like the dead sea. “In the end, I don’t think we were meant to be,” he said. “Every great hero falls eventually. I think this is it. This is our fall.”

She begged him to stop, begged him to find another way, but to no avail. You can fill in the blanks on this one.

At the airport in Berlin, she looked at her friends for the last time. She had the choice between helping Steve or staying on Tony’s good side. Back then, she truly believed in him. She promised her loyalty. As she watched her friends get carried away though, her heart screamed, “You made the wrong choice!”

Eliza crossed the corner into an alley just in time. She pressed against the brick wall, the darkness shielding her from the tourists and native New Yorkers crowding the streets. So many people, and so little space. The walls caved in on her. There was so much oxygen in the air and yet not enough to make its way into her lungs the way it was supposed to.

She tore the hoodie over her head. Sweat ran down her spine. Her chest ached and the burning was only getting worse. She tried to breathe - she tried to exhale, inhale, then exhaled again. She tried everything she could think up in her fogged-up brain, but the air tore through her lungs like a flaming fire.

She threw her head back. The stone dug into her skull. Her fingers tingled. Thousand little ants covered her skin. She scratched, she gasped, but the animals fed at her like a cannibal’s teeth. The sea brought its waves higher, water filling her chest, choking on salt. She was trying to stay afloat, but it was getting harder and harder to breathe and the current grew strong enough to pull her down.

Tony was going to let the press eat her alive, and in tow with the press came Secretary Ross. She only read the first couple of pages of the Accords, but it clearly stated that any kind of mission had to be approved by the government first. Even just the suspicion of risk had to be shared before hunting down leads. No playing the hero without the official ‘go’. Those were the rules. She broke them, clean through. She was playing the vigilante, jumping into the line of fire, using the dark web for answers. She believed Hydra was still out there and she had proof, too. She was obligated to tell Secretary Ross since Tony refused to listen - technically. Technically, she was supposed to be the good girl and wait. Sit down, look pretty. Technically.

Eliza was never one to accept technicalities. She rather fought for what she believed in instead of following the rules. It was foolish, she knew that. It was stupid, reckless, and lacking common sense. She was aware of all of that and yet when it came to her gut, she knew she could count on it.

Secretary Ross would arrest her the second he found out. He’d incarcerate her. She didn’t even want to imagine what they’d do to her in prison. Being an Avenger she might as well just walk naked into a lion’s den.

Hydra was out there. They were more than willing to kill her. While she was hiding in an alley, tucked away from the world, there were people out there getting kidnapped for human experiments. The only thing standing between Hydra and success was Eliza and maybe Daredevil, but she was the bigger threat.

Eliza loathed herself. She hated her body, hated the mind she was in. None of what she had on her felt like it belonged there. She didn’t deserve the powers, she didn’t deserve the love and care she received. Her existence was trouble, it brought danger to everyone close to her. She was cursed. She knew she was cursed, she had to be.

You care too much about people - you might just be digging your own grave.

“Hey, lady, you alright?” the homeless man next to the trash container leaned over. She hadn’t realized he was there.

Eliza blinked through the smoke standing up to her ears. “What?” she wasn’t even sure the words came out.

“You look a bit pale. Want some beer?”

She shook her head. “I- I need to get out of here.” Her fight or flight response was damaged, she knew that better than anyone. She needed to get out, she needed to go somewhere safe. Somewhere no one could find her. Somewhere she wouldn’t be recognized.

Sure you do. Run. It’s all you know how to do. Run from the truth, run from who you are.

She bumped into someone. “Sorry,” she apologized.

People turned to the disturbed woman running through the masses. She paved the way by elbowing her assailants in the ribs. She ran without destination. She knew New York like the back of her hand, but the many sounds and the people made it hard to focus on the map she had painted up in her head.

Can’t you see everyone is lying to you? Open your eyes. This is all a lie.

“Stop it! Get out of my head!”

Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie. We’re stuck together now.

“Who are you?” Something high and sharp pierced her eardrum.

I’m you. The real you.

She couldn’t see five things, only the sun blinding her into oblivion. The white stairs set in stone seemed like enough of a haven. She jumped the steps and through the gigantic doors, not knowing exactly where she was until she smelled the distant scent of candles, rosemary, and roses. Three things she could smell. That was a good start. She closed her eyes and felt the cold of the steel doors, the cool air on her heated skin, and the marble under her boots. The world finally seemed to slow down. The walls put space between them. She breathed. It wasn’t good, but it was better than nothing.

“Can I help you?” the voice startled her. She reached into the back of her jeans only to realize she wasn’t carrying any weapons.

Wide eyes looked around. It was no wonder the voice echoed off the walls. She stood in one of the largest rooms she’d ever seen. The windows were painted with colorful pictures - pictures that told stories almost every child knew. Wooden benches paved the hallway. Marble walls stood high and mighty above them, almost threatening.

The balding man lifted his arms with a smile. “I come in peace,” he said.

Eliza took another look around. “I-“ she exhaled. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Please, this door is open to anyone. Would you like to sit down for a moment, catch your breath?”

She hugged her arms around her torso. Her legs did feel kind of wobbly. “Yeah,” she said, “sitting sounds good.”

She followed him to the closest bench. He took place next to her, but he didn’t speak until she found her sound again.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never been to church before. This is all very new to me.”

“You seem like you’ve been looking for a safe space,” the man said. “There’s no place safer than church.”

“What do I call you? Sir? Or is it Father?”

He chuckled softly. “I’m Father Paul Lantom, but you may address me however you like. You want to tell me your name?”

“Eliza,” she told him.

“Well, Eliza, what are you running from?”

“I don’t know, life. I gave up everything I once knew, abandoned the people I loved - it was all I had left and I threw it all away. I thought I did the right thing. But now… I think I just made a huge mistake. Oh, God,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. Fuck!”

“Do you want to talk about it? I promise I won’t tell. I’m a priest, I’m under the oath of confession, no matter what you tell me.”

She wiped her cheeks. “So you’re like a therapist in a cloak?”

Father Lantom laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure,” he said. “I can tell you don’t have the best relationship with church. Would you still like to talk?”

“I don’t know. Faith and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” she said.

“Religious trauma, I take it?”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, religion is supposed to be comforting. You don’t appear comfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t have to see this as confession. When you say you struggle with faith, that’s your thing. I won’t talk you into something you don’t want to. God wouldn’t want that. You can just sit here and compose yourself in silence if that’s what you’d like. I’m just going to lend you some company and an open ear, if the need arises, to make sure you’re alright.”

Eliza frowned. “What does God want, exactly?” she asked. “Why does he let bad things happen to people?”

“God isn’t a person,” the father explained. “He’s a spirit, a deity. He’s a name, not a face. He’s whatever you believe, whatever you want him to be. Some people might see God in their pets, while others simply see him as a voice of guidance. Others don’t acknowledge his presence at all and still believe faith will show them their way. It’s not about God, it’s about what’s in your heart. Despite what a lot of people think, he’s not in control of the world. Things happen, some bad, some good, and some might be even considered a miracle. But he’s not a hero. He’s our hope, our faith, and with these two things you can turn bad things into good ones. For yourself, for others. That’s the thing about religion, about God, about faith – you don’t have to believe in him for him to have your back. Just because you’re an atheist doesn’t mean you’re going to hell. God doesn’t differentiate. We’re all the same in his eyes. Metaphorical eyes, of course.”

She clung to his every word. What once used to be forced on her seemed like a whole different thing now. The faith she used to have was twisted. It wasn’t God she prayed to, it was the face of evil. Hearing father Lantom’s words changed something inside of her; it opened the doors to her heart. She pulled her knee up to her chest. The candles on the altar in the front flickered with the comfortably cold chill.

“I abandoned my old life to do something I believe in,” she decided to tell him. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“You say you believe in it?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it your purpose?”

“I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Look inside yourself,” Father Lantom said. “Do you have to do it? Could you do something else and still get the same results? Do you live for it, or do you think about it at night because you can’t get it out of your head? Does it feel right, when you think about it?”

She answered instantly, “Yes, to all of it.”

“Then it’s your purpose. You made that decision for a reason. You wouldn’t have abandoned your old life to pursue something you only believe half of. Also, if it was so easy to abandon it all, maybe it wasn’t meant to stay that way in the first place. There’s always something waiting for you out there, sometimes it just takes some time for you to find it. It may come in the shape of a task, a purpose, or maybe even a person. And sometimes it’s all of that combined into one.“

“What if I’m not sure yet? What if I still question if I did the right thing?”

“You’re going to find the answer,” he stated. “Sometimes it just takes a while. That is something God can’t do for you. He can only guide you in the right direction.“

“Yeah, but how do I know that?”

“Let me tell you this: when the time comes, you‘ll know. There’s no guide to faith. When you’re on the right path, you’ll know because you’ll feel it deep in your heart.”

Eliza lowered her head. “I never saw it like that,” she admitted.

“Hardly anyone does.” He smiled. “Faith isn’t a task to be accomplished. You have to open your heart to it and when you do, you also have to enjoy it. It has to make you comfortable. If it doesn’t, it may not be the right time for you.”

She thought about it. No pressure, that’s what he was saying. She always thought religion, and going to church, always came with the pressure to dedicate yourself to the cause. She’d always imagined it had to be the way Matt saw God – having blind faith, always. Once in, you can’t pull back out. Just like that.

This time, Eliza felt comforted.

“So does God ever send you, I don’t know, signs?” she asked him then.

“The way you’re asking I assume you’ve been asking yourself this for a while now,” Lantom replied.

“Yeah, you could say that. A couple of days now, actually.”

“You met someone?”

“Yeah, how did you-“

“I’ve got a lot of people asking me this particular question lately. It’s like a global epidemic has broken out.” Eliza chuckled. He smiled at that. “Everyone’s seeing signs of God everywhere. It sounds crazy, and it probably is too, but I think it’s nice to hear some positive things for a chance. God knows I haven’t been getting much peace.”

“So it is possible?”

“Everything can be a sign, Eliza.”

“It’s like God sent me an Angel,” she blurted out. At this point, the confessions came straight out of the bottle. It wouldn’t stop. “When I first met him, I didn’t think much about it, but the things he makes me feel… no one has ever taken care of me the way he does. He understands me. He came when I needed him most – no, I needed someone and then he was just there and everything made sense. Or well, the things that need to make sense make sense, the rest is just… blegh.”

“You want to have my advice?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Seems like this is something you should pursue before it slips through your fingers.”

“He’s just so good.”

“Who’s to say you don’t deserve it? Nothing good is ever truly good and nothing bad is ever truly bad. You can’t sabotage yourself just because you think the good things aren’t meant for you.”

“They usually don’t come to me,” she argued. “Or when they do, they break.”

“That’s fear talking. You can’t let that take over.”

“But-“

“Stop making excuses. Someone you speak so highly of seems like someone you should keep around. Maybe he is a sign of God, maybe not. Does it really matter?”

Eliza pursed her lips. “This all just seems so surreal.”

“I know it does.” Father Lantom slowly rose from the bench. She looked up at him. “Think about it,” he said. “And when you need any more guidance, you know where to find me.”

“Father,” she pulled at his robe, “Thank you,” she said.

He smiled, patting her hand. “Anytime, Eliza.”

“Would you, uh, mind if I went to the altar and tried to pray?”

“This is a church. Why would I mind?”

His playfulness awoke a feeling of warmth within her. She nodded with a smile, excusing herself and making the long road toward the front. The cross hung high as Jesus lay nailed to it. She knelt, the steps turning colder beneath her knees.

“You know, when all else fails,” he turned back to her on his way to his chambers, “Talking to God almost always leads to revelations. He listens, even when you think he doesn’t.”

Eliza crossed her chest. She’d seen it in movies, but there was usually a lot more holy water involved. Father Lantom made her believe that there was no wrong way to speak to God. There was no right way to believe. She stared at the altar. How easy it must come to Matt, the times he went to church, the times he went to confession. It was almost like second nature to him. He carried his faith close to his heart, always.

“I don’t know how to pray,” she admitted into the high walls of the church. “But I’ll try because I need something to believe in. I tried to hold on to hope like I was taught. I thought I could do this on my own. God, I was so wrong. I have neither hope nor do I have my life under control,” she said.

Eliza stared up at the angels set into the ceiling. They soared across the sky, watching over her. God isn’t a face. Though as she looked up, she could’ve sworn she saw a silhouette in the clouds. Hidden between the angels and the endless blue, she liked to believe she wasn’t talking to a ghost.

“I’m kneeling here right now with nothing left to lose,” she said. Her knees ached, but she suffered through it. She suffered in the hope that if she surrendered completely, the sky would provide her with answers. “I have these powers raging through me, powers I don’t even know the full extent of. They’re- they’re changing the way I’m changing, and they’re growing, they’re getting stronger, and I’m so scared of what’s gonna happen next. I’m scared of what’s about to happen to me. It’s different when almost no one believes you. It’s just that everything and everyone’s slipping away from me. I’m scared I might even lose the last good thing in my life before this is all over.”

She sounded so desperate, so broken. Her cheeks were wet from the tears, lips salty with the taste. She was on her knees, begging, crying out; she felt like a little girl all over again. Submissive, at the edge of the cliff.

“I’ve been surviving for so long, I forgot what living feels like. No one’s taught me how to. And I can’t live, not like this, not when the fate of the world is on my shoulders. I just need a sign, anything, to know I can win this. That all the pain was worth it. It’s tearing me apart. I don’t know how to hope anymore. I regained some faith in this, in you, and for the first time, I feel like I have a hold on religion. But these people I’m hunting, they’re set out to destroy everything in their path. I can’t keep faith knowing I might just lose everything.”

Her lip quivered, “I can’t lose him, God, I can’t,” she said. “I like to think he came around for a reason, perhaps even a sign from you. He’s led by his faith and his grief, and all he cares about is doing the right thing. He thinks you gave him a purpose. Maybe this is mine. Maybe this is what I was made for, though I haven’t quite figured out what this is. I just know he’s with me and I’d be damned to lose him.

“I promise to worship at your feet every day from now on if it means we make it out of this alive, that these men get what’s coming for them. I’d do anything for that sliver of happiness. I need to finish this chapter once and for all. If I have to die to ensure everyone’s safety, I will. I’d do just about anything, I swear. Just make sure the people I care about don’t suffer for my mistakes. This is my battle. My sacrifice. No one else deserves to die.”

“You have so much love left to give,” Natasha’s voice sounded in the back of her head. “Don’t throw that away. Fight for what you want. No matter the cost.”

“I’m willing to pay every price,” Eliza spoke, God as her witness. “I’m done being in pain. I want to believe in you the way Matt does. I do. I need to win. I need this. I’ve sacrificed too much. God,” she cried. “Just this once I am begging for you to listen to me. I know I’ve committed many sins, and I know I’m probably going to hell, but if there’s at least some salvation left for you to give me, I promise I’ll be forever grateful. I’m going straight now. No one deserves to suffer the consequences of my actions but myself.“

You need to learn to take responsibility.

“I’m your disciple,” she swore.

I’ve been struggling with questions of identity as of late.

“Just don’t let me down, please. God, I’m begging you!”

Who am I?

“I need answers. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find them, but I have to try. What I’m about to do, I’m gonna do for a reason. Please, forgive me.”

He listens, even when you think he doesn’t.

She crossed her chest. “Amen.”

In the corner, where the confessional booth had its place, father Lantom watched from the safety of darkness.

“Lord, have mercy on her,” he quietly prayed. “Give her all the strength you have because that girl needs it.”

Eliza rose from the marble stairs. She was fragile, barely an adult. Deep down, she’d missed so much, she just wished to be a child again. She needed to lay in the comforting arms of her parents. All the things she’d lost, she just wanted back.

Father Lantom copied her, crossing his chest. His face had fallen, a worried crease above his brows. The shadow next to him shifted.

“I hope all that praying was worth it.” He watched her strut the hallway towards the door. “And I hope to God he listened to a word she said or else our boy’s gonna be in a lot of trouble.”

Sunlight fell on the face beside him. Soft features had all crumbled up in worry. She stared up at the father, the crucifix clutched tightly between her thin fingers.

“You think it’s her?” the woman asked.

“Hmm. I could tell the second she stepped in.“

“What should we do?”

“Nothing,” father Lantom stated. “If I learned one thing from listening to his confessions all those years, it’s that Matthew is his father’s son. He doesn’t give up, even when he should.“

“I wish he did,” she sighed. “Just once, I wish he’d stop.”

The metal doors fell shut with a loud bang. Eliza’s steps disappeared onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, swallowed by sun-hungry people and the summer air.

Father Lantom gave the nun a gentle smile. “Your son is resilient, Maggie. He never goes down without a fight, and he also never loses. Besides,” he looked over at the empty bench in the back, “I think Matthew finally found a match that doesn’t completely manipulate him.”

Maggie kissed the cross in her hands. “I just hope you’re right,” she said.

The last thing she wanted was to lose her son before she even got the chance to explain herself to him.

Matt could hear Eliza's heartbeat from miles away. He picked her up around the area of Clinton Church, but his abilities didn't quite place her in the confines of his favorite place in Hell's Kitchen, neither did he manage to pick up the father's signature voice serenading her and taking away some of the built-up anxiety. By the time he sought her out, she was on the run again, on the way to her apartment and then, sometime later, carefully making her way to the closest taxi cab.

She told the driver to stop two blocks from his apartment building. On her way, she made sure to take extra turns just in case someone was following her. He figured the action was intentional, just something she had gotten used to, and she wasn’t going to stop, especially not in times like these.

Then, her scent filled his nostrils, followed by the steady thump, thump, thump of her heart. She came in and the world lit up. Her presence brought fresh air into the four walls he called home. Though there was something about the way she acted. Her voice dropped a few octaves, her steps dragging tiredly across the wooden floor. It made him worry. He wondered what happened. Even the last spark he had seen hours before had vanished completely, lost somewhere on the dirty streets outside.

Foggy had poked around, asking him all kinds of questions about the night before after he quickly showed his face in the office. He asked about Eliza and if he could get her number to check on her, just to see if she had gotten home alright. Even Karen worried. Any normal person would be after the events that took place at the party. The worst part was that Matt had to make them believe that everything turned out alright.

“I walked her home,” he lied. “She’s… what can be expected. Stark really got to her but I, uh, figured it out. She’s okay.”

“Man, that sucks,” Foggy pouted at him. “I thought he was the good guy.”

Karen only laughed sarcastically at his words. “Won’t make that mistake again, will you, Foggy?”

“No. No, I guess I won’t. I’m sorry. Tell her that.”

Matt wasn’t planning on it.

“Don’t you have a front door?” Eliza asked from the staircase that lead from the rooftop to his apartment. “I mean, when you said ‘backdoor’, I imagined a ground-floor apartment, not this.” She gestured to the controversial entrance.

“I thought it would be better if no one saw you coming,” he said.

She hummed. No smart remark, not a single joke, nothing. The wood creaked underneath her boots. He tilted his head to listen closer. He analyzed the way she inhaled, slightly quivering with every second drag, and her voice was significantly more hoarse.

She placed what he suspected to be a duffel bag on the leather couch. “I made sure no one was following me,” she stated, concerning his earlier words, no doubt.

“Yeah, I heard.” He felt stupid just standing there, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“So you’re stalking me now?” What was meant as a joke sounded way more serious.

“What if I were?” he asked.

“I’d be offended, but given the circumstances, I’d forgive you.”

Matt chuckled. He moved over to the kitchen, his steps methodical, knowing exactly where he needed to go, yet his arms stretched further from his body in case something might end up in his path.

“You want anything?”

Eliza looked over at him. “Sorry, what?” she said.

“You want anything?” he repeated his question patiently. He opened the fridge, his bicep straining against the white dress shirt that hung clad to his torso. He had long discarded the suit jacket and the sleeves were rolled up. “I’ve got beer, wine, and water. That’s about it. I, uh, don’t keep many groceries here. I have some leftovers from the Thai place around the corner. Oh, and there’s an apple. It’s all that’s left from the gift basket I got from our last client.”

She chuckled. The truth was, her heart hurt. Not just her head but her soul. The new environment made her feel exposed. At least at the church, she had found solace. Under Matt’s gaze which wasn’t even a gaze, to begin with, but an even closer observation of her behavior, she felt naked. She felt vulnerable. He saw right through her, still trying to cover it up to allow her some modesty, but goddamnit, she knew that he knew something wasn’t quite right. He could probably smell the holy water on her. He could smell the sweat of anxiety, the dried tears, and the blood from gnawing on her lip too much. She wanted to run, though she decided against it since he would’ve found her sooner or later anyway. She couldn’t hide from Daredevil, not anymore.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked. “You sound exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Eliza intercepted.

He fiddled with the fridge’s door handle. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, really,” she said.

“Hm.” She was lying to him.

Against her claims, he handed her a glass of tap water. His nod motioned for her to drink. A silent demand. She lowered her head. It worked. She took a small sip, keeping her eyes on him as he brushed past her, hand ghosting against her lower arm. He didn’t have to speak for her to know.

Once again, she looked around the apartment. The sun was slowly coming down, darkening most of the apartment and if it hadn’t been for the gigantic billboard across the building, she would’ve been wandering in the dark.

The billboard would’ve been quite a nuisance to a seeing person. There couldn’t be many people who would volunteer to take such an apartment for longer periods unless they were, like Matt, blind. He probably found the soft buzzing at night comforting.

Eliza felt drawn to the different pictures flashing across the screen. She walked up to the window to take a peek outside. The glass was slightly milky in its natural state, slightly discolored too, but that’s what interested her in the first place. The architecture of the place fascinated her. It suited Matt, although it was nothing like what she had expected.

She wiped at the window, removing some of the fog caused by the sudden change of temperature inside. Matt liked his apartment cold, she realized. The windows couldn’t keep up with the presence of two people without condensation starting to prickle at the edges.

The billboard showed a commercial for an insurance company. Ridiculous, she thought. He probably didn’t even know about the kinds of pictures that flashed across his windows every night. Insurance companies, condoms, groceries, and from time to time, tv show announcements. Not that he would even care about the show that was put on in front of his apartment. It was new to her, all of this. He had a different perception of things. What she found annoying, he enjoyed. What he hated, she considered normal. She couldn’t see herself falling asleep to condom advertisements, but the colors were nice, so maybe it wasn’t all too bad even for a sighted person after all.

Matt chuckled behind her. “Say it,” he said.

“Say what?” she asked.

“You think it’s annoying.”

“What?”

“The billboard.”

“Well, this place is a shithole.” She shrugged, “but I don’t know, I think it’s a nice shithole.”

His chuckle transcended into laughter. “Yeah,” he grinned into his glass, “Sounds about right.”

“Rent’s probably through the roof, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I got a discount because of the Billboard since no one else would take it, but it’s still a lot. Especially for someone who doesn’t even make money.”

“Expensive shithole then,” she said.

He nodded. “Expensive shithole.”

The apartment's location was unfortunate, but the room itself wasn’t all that awful. Eliza stopped at the small wooden desk that stood in front of what appeared like a supply closet. Files were scattered around, a braille printer to one side and a laptop to the other. She traced her fingers over the rough wood, feeling the dots on the papers. She wished she could read Braille, but it seemed like a hard task to learn.

“Thank you for inviting me over,” she said.

“Sure, yeah,” he said. “How was your, uh, meeting with Stark?”

Eliza stiffened.

“You know what, forget it.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

She didn’t wait. “I quit.” Her nails dug into the paper. “I tore up our family picture and then I left.”

“What?”

“I left. I just… left.”

“Well, that’s- are you alright?”

“He knows about us, Matt!” The words came in a single breath.

“What?” he asked.

“Not about you, about Daredevil.” she had to clarify. “He knows we’ve been working together,” Eliza said. “He’s known ever since our second night together. The press caught wind of it. He said he was the only one between the news and Secretary Ross. If he found out-”

“You’d go to jail,” Matt stated. She nodded weakly. “Fuck! How did they- what is Stark gonna do now? He has to have a plan, right? He won’t just tell everyone. That’s not like him. Tell me that’s not like him.”

She couldn’t do that. She wasn’t sure if it was like him. In the past? Definitely not. After what she experienced in the past couple of days? Who knew?

“He said if I walked out that door, he wouldn’t protect me anymore.”

“God…Tell me you didn’t just walk out. At least not without negotiating a deal first.”

“I walked out.”

“Damn it, Eliza!”

“I don’t care!” her voice cracked. “I don’t care, okay? Ross can arrest me, I don’t fucking care! I realize that now. I don’t care, even if it lands me in jail. The Accords are stupid rules. Why should I have to live by them anymore?” she said. “The Avengers are toast anyway. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone who doesn’t deserve it. I’m not making entire cities float. I’m simply fighting a fight no one else wants to. If that means breaking the rules, so be it.”

He began to pace the room. “This can’t be happening…” One of his hands got tangled in the mess of brown locks on his head.

“It’s not about him. It’s not about me. This is about doing the right thing. You taught me that!”

Matt turned around. “Do you even realize how much danger you are in?!” It was the first time he yelled at her and he regretted it the second the sound had finished bouncing his way across the apartment, and it slapped her right across the face.

Eliza swallowed hard. “I-” she blew air through her nose. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he cooed softly. He took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“No, don’t touch me!” She shied away. Her armor faltered. The leather of the couch welcomed her with open arms. Teardrops pearled off the fabric, leaving even darker spots where the liquid slipped from her skin.

He wanted to punch himself. “I’m so sorry.” He slowly fell to one knee next to the armrest. “I didn’t mean it. I’m not angry at you,” he assured her, but his words meant nothing. She was scared.

Once again, she backed away until her thigh hit her duffel bag and she had to stop in the middle of the couch so as not to throw her belongings on the ground. Her hand remained in the air, a silent warning. He didn’t move, he remained on the floor, even though his knees hurt from the wood and he could feel his stitches barely holding on for dear life. He didn’t care though. This was his fault.

She lowered her head. “I didn’t sign up for this,” she whispered. “I didn’t sign up for any of this.”

“I know you didn’t. The reason I yelled-“ he sighed, “The reason I yelled was not that I’m angry at you. It’s not your fault. I just don’t want you to get arrested. They’d put you into special containment. They would lock you up for good,” he explained. “From what I’ve heard, enhanced individuals are considered flight risks to the government, so if you were to get arrested, they could easily use that to their advantage. I can’t let that happen.”

Eliza nodded quietly.

“I was wrong to raise my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I- I just don’t want you to get arrested because of me,” he said.

“But it wouldn’t be because of you.”

“No, it would be. You know why?”

“No ‘cause I’m not a lawyer,” she told him.

He hung his head, chuckling. “In the eyes of the law, Daredevil is a criminal. I read the Accords after we met. I wanted to know how far you’re allowed to go. You know they don’t just apply to you as a group?”

She shrugged. Her fingers fiddled with the necklace around her neck. She had forgotten it was still there. A nervous tick he had picked up on when he first met her at the police station, out of his costume.

“You know.” He nodded slowly. “I figured. You read them.”

“The first few pages,” she said.

“Not all of it?”

“No, it bored me.”

He shook his head.

“What I read though, I remember. I remember every word.”

“Alright. Well, the Accords state that you’re not allowed to work on missions without the government’s consent,” he said. “You cannot take any cases that haven’t been checked out by either the Secretary or his committee, and when they say you have to pull out, you have to comply. You’re a dog on a leash. Or, the Avengers are. Since you signed them, you are legally obligated to follow the Accords. If you break them, you’re automatically breaking the law. You’ll become a felon, there will be court proceedings, and then, depending on the extent of the crime, you could go to jail.”

“You did your research, huh?”

“It’s not just a rule book,” he insisted. “The Accords are the law now.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Eliza snapped at him.

“I know you do.”

“Then why are you trying to make me feel bad?”

“I’m not! I’m trying to tell you that the rules that apply to the Avengers as a group apply to you as well. You each have to follow the rules, even outside of working together. And you know why? Because you’re not the ordinary human population. The government doesn’t want you guys allowed to roam freely.”

“If I do anyway, I’ll go to jail. Yes, I’m aware. Hey,” she asked, “where are you going with this?”

“This whole thing is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode! These people can prove you’re working with me, that we were with Pfeiffer that night… They have the means to destroy you. Because of me, you’re in danger. That is where I’m going with this.”

“Oh, not this again.”

“You know, perhaps it’s better if we part ways. Spend some time apart until all of this has calmed down.”

“I made my choice!” Eliza cried. “This decision is entirely on me. My life, my rules. I take responsibility for what I did, and for what I’m about to do. This has nothing to do with you. You want to save this city? So do I.”

His breath came in hot, labored puffs of air.

“It’s not just some personal agenda that drives me, I actually care about the people! Don’t make this about you, Matt, not right now.”

“I’m not making this about me!” he argued. “I’m just trying to take care of you. I can’t do that if you’re in the crosshairs.”

“I’ve been in the crosshairs from the beginning. I grew up with several targets on my back. Even the law has known me for as long as I can remember.”

“What if I can’t protect you anymore, what then?”

“Then I’ll die!”

“I don’t want you to die!” He was yelling without even raising his voice, something she had done the night of the party after she found out who he truly was. They weren’t so much different after all.

Eliza wiped her cheeks. There weren’t any tears. She wasn’t crying, she doubted she had any tears left to shed, but she wanted to. The feeling burned in the back of her throat.

“We’ve still got time,” she said.

“Time? We’re running against time, Eliza! I may not be able to read the clock, but I know when a timer is running out.”

“I just have to be careful! We’re in this together now, Matt. We were the second you jumped into that Butcher shop to save my ass. Your desperate need to push me away just to protect me can’t control you. I’m not going anywhere. You gotta deal with that or else we’re gonna have a problem.”

“No, you’re gonna have a problem because you’re the one whose life is in danger and whose freedom is being jeopardized just by being with me. This- this isn’t a joke. This is your life you’re gambling with, you realize that, right?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I don’t want you to leave me!” she cried out. “Don’t you get that? I don’t want you to go.”

Matt’s eyes softened. “What?” he said.

Her bottom lip tangled with her teeth in a desperate attempt to stop it from quivering. Like her entire body though, she kept shaking. It was deadly quiet when she spoke again, and her voice paid the price, “You’re all I have left.”

He rose from the floor, situating himself on the couch next to her. She curled in on herself, too scared to even look at him. He reached his hand out. “Eliza-”

“You promised you’d be there for me,” she said. “That’s what I need you to do. To be there.”

“I’m not leaving,” he breathed.

“Are you sure because you seemed pretty convinced just now?”

“No.” He reached for her. This time, she let him. He tugged at her arm, gently at first, though when she didn’t get the hint, he hooked his arm around hers and pulled her towards him. She fell into his open arms only hesitantly. “I just don’t want to watch you die, okay?” he admitted. “And I don’t want them to take you away.”

“Maybe you can take me away,” she muttered. Her hand began to claw at his chest, her lifeline.

He chuckled breathlessly. “And where would I take you?”

“When this is all over, I mean. I heard Hawaii could be nice.”

“I’ve never been north of 116th street.”

“The more reason for us to change our identities and travel to Hawaii.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, “When this is all over, I will take you anywhere you want.”

They sat like this until the earth finished turning and the sun disappeared. Soft moonlight mixed with the ads crossing the billboard screen. His heart beat steady. She used the sound to come back to her body.

“The world feels so surreal,” she spoke into the comfortable silence. “Like I’m detached from its axis and I’m just spinning there like a broken record, lost alone in the vastness of space.”

She inhaled his cologne. Hints of sweat and rain, and sandalwood on his skin. He was so warm, a human blanket draped over her, almost like a shield from all the evil in this world. His grip tightened around her shoulders; she allowed herself to fall further into the embrace. She allowed herself to drown in his touch.

“It’s like I’m bacteria floating around in an organism, but that bacteria doesn’t have a name yet. I’m just… there. No one knows who I am or what purpose I serve, but what’s for sure is that I’m meant to cause damage.”

“You’re not bacteria,” Matt told her.

“But what if I am? What if I’m the virus? This story seems to depend on my talent to destroy things. Everything’s just gotten worse because of me. Because I got involved.“

“They would’ve found another way to cause damage.”

“If I hadn’t gotten involved, this could’ve been solved without having people die for it,” she said and pushed away from him. His arm caged her, she needed to get out. Matt continued to keep his hands on her. He let her bring space between them, but as she tried to flee, he pulled her back gently so she was facing him.

He didn’t need sight to see that she was burning red. The temperature of her skin mixed with the jitters told him enough to conclude.

“Hey,” he said, “you’re the one who broke this case wide open.”

“I don’t- what if that’s not true?” Eliza sniffled. “What if, in some twisted way, I’m the reason Hydra is doing this? You heard Pfeiffer, they’re trying to make more super soldiers, stronger than ever before,” she said. “They learned from Project Chaos, they saw what Strucker managed to achieve with the Maximoff twins. What if – just, what if – they’re doing this because we survived, and now they’re trying to combine the elements to make something far, far worse than what Wanda and I turned out to be.”

“Yeah, but what if scenarios are just speculation? It’s not real, at least not until it’s proven. What we need to focus on are facts. Plain and simple. Facts are what make cases. That’s our start-of point. Asking yourself what if will only hurt you more. Believe me, I know.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“Trust me,” he begged. “That’s all I ask of you.”

Eliza tasted the words on her tongue. She wiped the tears away, though the sticky feeling of dried salt on her cheeks remained heavy. She leaned down slowly, her forehead pressed against Matt’s chest. His hand went around her neck, holding her there. The other rubbed comfortingly up and down her back.

“What does that even mean?” the sound was muffled through the fabric. “I mean, what are we?“ she asked.

Matt ran his thumb along her pulse point. “I’m just as confused as you are,” he admitted. He felt her pulse jump directly behind the skin.

She hummed. “I wish we would’ve met before. You know, before everyone convinced us that life is war.”

He pulled her closer. His chuckle blew through the tiny hairs standing off her scalp. “No one has proved us different,” he said. “Life is war, we were just taught to always fight on the front lines, no matter what happens. We were taught that being soldiers is the default for people like us. And now… now we can’t live without it.”

“We were just kids.”

“We didn’t know any better.”

“Yeah… we still don’t.”

“No,” he smiled, “we don’t.”

Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang out. Reality crept through the cracks in the floorboards and polluted them with its negative energy.

Eliza sat up again. This time, she reached for her duffel bag. “We gotta follow down that lead,” she stated, and so the mask went back on.

The softness of Matt’s features was etched in seriousness. He began to peel the tie off around his throat. It was a fascinating transition. The caring man she knew as Matt Murdock turned within a matter of a few seconds and there he sat Daredevil. He didn’t have to put on the suit, his attitude spoke for itself. There was just something about him, something that enthralled her, even as he turned into a cold piece of stone. She knew there was a broken, gooey nucleus inside – the man he presented on the outside was just an act. He kept the real Matt Murdock under locks, tucked neatly away where no one could find him.

Eliza should’ve felt honored to have him be so vulnerable around her. Yet, she believed there was still plenty to learn about him and this complicated piece of a soul he harbored inside.

“What do you have there?” he asked.

“My suit.” She opened the zipper. “Not the one Tony gave me. It’s my old SHIELD uniform. I asked to keep it before I joined the Avengers. Also,” - the cell phone fell into her hands -“I got a new phone. Tony used mine to track me.”

“So you just keep an arsenal of phones around you?”

“Yeah, why? You don’t?”

“I don’t think that’s something normal people do.”

“I’m not normal,” she stated plainly. “In this line of work, you better come prepared. I have a lot more where this comes from. I could fake my death and no one would know if I wanted to.” Eliza got up. She asked, “Where’s your bathroom?”

Matt pointed in the direction he memorized.

“Thanks.”

Her footsteps disappeared. The door fell shut. She turned the lock twice, making sure it was secure, only then did he hear the shuffling of clothes on the floor. He chose not to invade her privacy. Instead, he made his way into the bedroom. He took the suit draped over the sofa and changed into it with precision. The door stayed open, just in case Eliza came around. He didn’t care if she saw him undressed – hell, he was as open as one could be. Some part of him wanted her to, some perverted part he didn’t want to listen to. Not that he expected an attempt on her life in his apartment, considering no one knew she was there, but he could never be too careful.

His stitches pulled hard. The leather didn’t do much to protect his wounds. He groaned, some sounded louder than he planned to. He was in so much pain, every inch of his body sore, and all he craved was a good night’s sleep. But he couldn’t think about that. There was no time to rest, he told himself. Not until the worst was over.

“You okay?” Eliza stood in the doorway.

Matt struggled with the belt. “Yeah, fine,” he said curtly. His shoulder burned - the one part that wasn’t injured was giving him the most trouble.

“Need any help with that?”

He sighed in relief, nodding. She helped him get the rest of his body tucked into the suit. The leather sat securely around his waist and everywhere else where it needed to; he couldn’t have done it better.

She peaked up at him and he tried his best to reciprocate the action. Judging by her smile, he missed her eyes by miles once again. He chuckled. “Guess I’m getting old,” he said.

“How so?” she questioned.

“My back is killing me.”

“You are, indeed, an old man,” she swatted some dust off his shoulders, “but that’s okay.”

He pinched her side. “Careful. This old man can still kick your ass.”

“Oh. Do I need to have the nursery home on the line?” She spread her thumb and middle finger to the sides, mimicking a phone. “Shall I tell them to book you a single or double room, grandpa?”

The baton flew in her direction. Right before it could hit her in the face, her hand shot up to catch the piece of metal. She switched between him and his weapon, not sure whether to be impressed or annoyed.

“Fuck off!” he said.

She smirked. “I’m getting you back for that.”

Though once the baton was back in the air, his arm was already extended to catch it mid-air, his height offering an opportunity he didn’t miss.

Eliza remembered their first meeting. The way he flipped the sticks of metal expertly, almost like what he was doing right there, in front of her, smug and knowing damn well what he was doing. “Show off,” she said.

Like on the first day, he forced one of the batons into her hand. “Try not to kill anyone,” he retorted.

She saw an opportunity too and she surely didn’t want to miss it. “No promises.”

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 1 year

Text

HEART'S FATE - CHAPTER 48

*Warning: Adult Content*

Skylar West is on edge, though he hides it so well and his partner, Martin Hunter doubts anyone else notices.

Marin only notices because he senses it through their mate-bond like a wire running a current of electricity.

Instinctively, Martin reaches for Skylar’s hand and he’s more than a little hurt when he subtly shakes him off.

Skylar must have a reason, Martin tells himself.

Something has him on guard.

Probably his father.

Martin hates to admit it but his first impression of his mate's family is not a good one.

General Vargas has the shark-like smile of an unscrupulous businessman about to make a killer deal and Martin doesn't like the calculating glint in his eye, not to mention the initial coolness with which he'd greeted him.

Martin gets the feeling if he'd been carrying anything, General Vargas would have mistaken him for Skylar's valet.

The man in question leads them and the troop of guards through the grand hall and up a broad flight of marble steps to double doors twice the height of a standard room.

Martin keeps close to Skylar, attuning himself to his partner and attempting to mirror his stance and attitude and all the while thinking a quick lesson in Mer-folk etiquette might have gone a long way.

General Vargas pauses before the doors and raps smartly upon a panel with the knuckle of his first finger.

He calls out something in the Mer-folk language, which Martin doesn't understand but which he takes to mean something along the lines of 'open up.'

Voices issue from the other side, raised in question and the General says something more.

Then, with the scrape of bolts being drawn back and barricades lifted, the doors open inward to reveal an opulent hall of white marble and gold, with a raised dais at one end beneath a clear dome, like a smaller version of the magic bubble enclosing the outer courtyard.

A pair of guards wearing the anxious looks of men who know they are expendable flank the doors, while a larger group stands in a close ring, shoulder to shoulder, upon the dais.

All hold long spears or pronged tridents and with their weapons extended, they resemble a spikey sea urchin covered in spines.

The general calls out to them and while I still don't understand what he says, the words have a reassuring tone.

This guess proves correct as the distant group lowers their weapons and breaks formation, descending the dais and approaching and revealing what they had been guarding at the same time: a figure, draped in cloth and seated upon an ornate throne.

"Is that...?"

"My mother," Skylar whispers, with a barely perceptible nod of assent. "And my sisters, guarding her."

As they approach, Martin sees that while half are male guards, half of those who had stood in the defensive ring are women.

The one leading the way wears the same gold-scale armor as the general.

Tall, with long black curls and an 'I will kill you if I have to' expression, she reminds Martin of 'Xena the Warrior Princess' but with more clothes.

Martin takes it she's Sky's eldest sister, Natalis and he hangs back a pace as she launches into a heated and entirely incomprehensible conversation with her father and Skylar.

After several minutes of this, some kind of understanding and accord is reached and Skylar finally says something Martin understands.

"English, please, Natalis. Martin does not speak our tongue."

"The language of barbarians," she scoffs.

"The language of science and literature, now," Skylar amends.

"Only because the barbarians dominate such things. For now."

"For now," Skylar agrees easily. "History is ever unfolding. But first things first."

With a smile, he turns to Martin and takes his mate’s hands in his.

"Allow me to introduce my chosen consort, Martin Hunter. Martin, please meet my sister, Princess Natalis of Thassos."

Doing his best to hide his surprise at the new term for his role, Martin remembers the earlier lesson he'd received and executes what is no doubt a terrible mockery of a graceful bow.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Princess," he says.

"You may call me Natalis," she says, with a very uninviting frown.

Ignoring her, Skylar introduces Martin to each of his remaining sisters in turn.

"And here we have the Princesses, in order of succession. Thalia, Artemis, Saphia, Kalifa, Inara, Aster and Anemone."

Martin’s brain makes a cursory effort to memorize names and match them to faces but by the time he gets to the last sister, he has all but forgotten the rest.

All I know is that Natalis is a dark brunette, Anemone is a flaming redhead and the rest are as blonde as Skylar.

He'll have to pay careful attention in conversation and hopefully pick up their names as he goes.

As Sklyar introduces Martin in turn, he notices that most eyes are not on his face but on the half of the heart-shaped amulet he wears and sense reservation in most of the smiles that reflect his own.

Anemone is the exception and as she greets Martin with a warmth and deep curiosity that can't be faked he finds himself reminded of his own youngest sister, Ingrid.

"But you are a land-walker are you not?" she asks, in lightly accented tones.

Her voice is soft and sweet and easy to listen to and Martin wonders if, like Skylar's, there is magic in it.

"Yes, I suppose I am," Martin admits, unsure whether this is a good or a bad thing in her view.

His fears are at once laid to rest and reignited as her face lights with the enthusiasm of a nerd presented with an opening to discuss her favorite topic.

"Oh, you must tell me everything," she exclaims. "I so long to visit the surface but Natalis forbids it."

The muscular brunette shoots her a glare.

"Your duty is here, guarding mother. Not frolicking among..." her gaze flicks from Anemone to Skylar and she says something in the Mer-folk tongue that makes Anemone gasp.

"Nattie. That isn't nice. Sky had no choice but to leave us and..."

"And your duty is here," Natalis snaps.

Anemone glares at her for a moment before turning back to Martin with a much kinder expression.

"But you must be exhausted from your journey," she exclaims. "Nattie seldom travels farther than the nearest edge of Europe but she always comes back an absolute bitch."

"Ane," General Vargas hisses, causing the red-haired girl to flinch. "Apologize immediately."

Anemone's green eyes widen with shocked innocence.

"Oh dear. Have I used the wrong term? I haven't much practiced my English of late."

"Ah..." Martin raises his hands, hoping to intervene. "It's no matter. Our journey was a short one, in fact. We traveled here by magic. It took almost no time at all."

Natalis turns her flint-sharp eyes on Skylar.

"Oh? Is this some new skill of yours, brother?"

Skylar frowns.

"No. A friend helped."

Natalis blinks as if attempting to solve an unsolvable problem.

"You shared the location of Thassos with a being capable of transporting you here instantly by magic?" she asks, clearly aghast.

Skylar frowns again.

"I shared the location with a friend, who helped us in a time of urgent need. She forbore to cross the barrier herself out of concern that she would damage it."

"Who else have you told?" Natalis asks, in the tone of someone making a mental list of people she might need to hunt down and kill.

"No one," Skylar says, taken aback. "I give you my word, Nat. I do not take the sanctity or security of our home lightly."

"Nor do I, which is why I and my sisters have remained here, year after year, guarding our mother and the throne in the mere hope of your return, at which you have taken your damned time, by the way."

"Relax, Nattie," Anemone says, rolling her eyes with a very human expression of sisterly exasperation. "Mother is a statue. How much guarding does she need?"

"Mother's magic is the only thing holding this place together," Natalis snaps. "If something happens to her before Skylar can take the throne, we are all doomed."

"Doomed is a bit of a stretch," Anemone counters. "Severely inconvenienced is more like it."

Natalis sneers.

"If you can call losing our kingdom, the seat of our power, the heart of our magic, our collected art, history and knowledge and our entire way of life, an inconvenience, then certainly."

Anemone pales before her sister's ire and Martin quails as well, his natural reaction before a threat of anger being to shrink in upon himself and yield.

Martin doesn't know where that instinct originated.

His parents always taught him and all his siblings to be their best and truest selves, not to worry about what anyone else thought of them, to stand up for themselves and others and to follow their hearts wherever they might lead.

And yet Martin’s heart had led him so astray that...

Countering this thought, images of his children rise in Martin’s mind.

A whole slideshow of Flora, Miguel, Nico and Rio, from birth to diaper changes, first smiles to first days at school.

He loves them with all his heart and he wouldn't trade them for anything.

In that, his heart has led him ‘abso-fucking-lutely’ true.

He supposes he could do worse than to trust it now.

"That's why we're here," Martin says, daring to speak up despite the tension in the room. "We've come to break the curse."

"Mother told me to bring her a pure heart," Skylar says, moving closer to Martin and slipping his arm around his mate’s back. "And Martin is most certainly that."

Natalis continues to frown but Anemone makes an 'aww' sound, as if they're the most adorable thing she's ever seen.

The rest of the sisters seem about evenly split between the two reactions and their father remains unreadable.

"Will you free her now?" one of the blond sisters asks, glancing towards the shrouded statue.

"No, we must do things properly," General Vargas says, intervening before Skylar can speak. "Our people have a right to witness their queen's return and the more witnesses, the less room for conspiracies to take hold. There shall be a feast and a grand ball and that will take a bit of time to arrange. Tomorrow evening is the soonest, I think. In the meantime, we all have some catching up to do, I'm sure."

Again, Martin senses a tingle of unease through his connection to Skylar and he wishes he could speak to him alone but from the look of things, he might not get such an opportunity for some time.

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cordeliaflyte · 1 year

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Feminism LOST... Please enjoy this next instalment anyway ^_^

Answer 1: I sympathized with him regarding this Aunt Primrose, saying she sounded difficult to please but clearly loves him.

Answer 2: I spoke out rather directly on how sensible such an aunt sounds, and that she ought to be obeyed.

Answer 3: I told him in no uncertain terms that Aunt Primrose sounded like a menace to all right-thinking people.

#tally ho

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buchananzamora81 · 2 months

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legends-of-time · 3 months

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The Journey of Living at Downton

Chapter 29: April 1922 Continuation

Masterlist

After the concert, the guests begin to depart from Downton the next morning. The house party seems to have affected everyone, good and bad.

Emma herself feels shaken and down after Anna's attack and she can see that Tom is confused about her behaviour as well as why she hadn't returned to the concert. Emma had continued with the lie Anna had fed Mr Bates, which Tom seemed to accept hesitantly. Emma wants to tell him the truth but she can't betray Anna. She feels worse when Gemma tells her of the odd mood Anna is in with marks on her face while Green (the valet that attacked Anna) is unwell with Dr Clarkson having to come and see him before departure and Emma can't tell her the truth. You think she'd be used to not being her full self and telling lies, for example, Pamuk, time travel etc, but nope.

Emma is in the Hall saying goodbye to guests. She makes her business to avoid some, Sampson and Lady Raven for example but says farewells to Michael, the Duchess, Gillingham and Bullock (Rose's insistence).

"Do you think Billy is alright?" Tom asks her as Gillingham and Mary walk away from them. The two seem to get along quite well but Emma isn't sure. Maybe it has something to do with a particular valet.

Emma looks over to see that a little further away, the Duchess of Yeovil is saying farewell to Billy. The man seems quite down and even more upset than he had seemed last night.

"I hope so." Emma murmurs.

Emma joins Cora, Mary, Edith, Robert and Rose as they watch the cars drive away. Honestly, she's glad to see the back of them all.

——

Emma is staring down at her cup listlessly as she sits on the settee in the Library with Tom beside her having his own cup. Billy lingers by the door and if she was paying attention, Emma would've gone over to him to ask him what's the matter.

Mary walks in snapping Emma back to the room at large. "The tax people have had a cancellation, so they can see us on Wednesday at noon. But I think we should go up tomorrow. I wouldn't like to risk being late."

Robert looks annoyed as he wanders over to the table laid out for them, placing his cup down. "And you don't want me to come?"

"There's no point in you all going." Cora mediates from where she sits on the opposite settee. Emma knows how she feels. It seems father and daughter are battling it out on what's the best way to pay the tax. Robert wants to sell land and Mary disagrees (so does Emma).

Robert turns to his daughter. "It's not that you're afraid I might put the case for selling?"

"It's not a question of putting the case. They don't care how they get their money, so long as they get it." Tom reminds him.

"I'll ask how long they can give us, and what scale of payment they'll accept. Then I'll report back." Mary tells Robert. Emma feels quite proud of the businesswoman she's becoming.

"And we'll make a decision together." Robert says pointedly with a new cup in his hand.

"But I will try to persuade you."

Robert lets out a huff as he walks over to stand by the settee Emma and Tom sit on. "Even though you'd be dragging a debt behind you for twenty years?"

"I don't care. Not if Downton is self-sufficient by the end of it." Mary declares passionately before moving to make herself a cup.

"Isn't it better to make Downton better in the long term?" Emma adds. She wants to get involved as much as she can for Tom, for the Crawleys and for Downton. So far, it's throwing out some logic when she sees fit to do so.

Robert speaks with a sigh. "I can see I'll spend the rest of my life paying by instalments." He sits down on the chair next to where Emma sits.

"Papa, you always say we're not the owners of Downton, but the caretakers. Very well. Let's take care of it." Mary says as she makes her cup. It is then Rose comes walking in, going over to the table. Robert and Tom stand in greeting while Billy smiles slightly at her.

"Aunt Rosamund said Tom and I can stay with her," Mary says as she sits down next to Cora. "You should come, Emma."

Emma looks at her in surprise. "Me? Why?"

"You don't seem yourself this morning dear." Cora says, smiling kindly.

Emma swallows uncomfortably as she can see her husband's questioning look in the corner of her eye. She shakes her head. "Oh no, I'm fine."

"So, you'll come?" Mary asks.

Emma looks at Tom, who smiles at her. Emma knows that it's not his ideal idea of an outing but it would be nice for them to go out somewhere. "If it means that much to you, but only if Billy comes."

"Of course he will." Billy smiles fondly at his sister-in-law but doesn't express his disagreement. "You don't mind keeping an eye on the children, do you, Mama?"

Cora smiles. She'd like nothing better.

Rose turns from the table. "Is this London? When are you going? Can I come?" She questions enthusiastically.

Emma feels slightly amused at the girl's behaviour. She isn't very subtle in trying to meet up with Sir John Bullock. But Emma enjoys the light the young girl brings to the house.

"Tomorrow, and I don't see why not." Mary replies.

"Nor me." Cora adds. Pleased, Rose turns back to the table. Cora turns to Mary. "Will you meet Tony Gillingham while you're there?" Real subtle.

"I don't think so. Why should I?" Mary comments casually.

"Just thought you might."

Mary is annoyed. "Don't be transparent, Mama. It doesn't suit you."

Emma looks up when the door opens and sees Billy leave the room without a word to anyone. Emma frowns in worry.

——

That evening, Emma catches Anna hurriedly leaving Mary's room. The lady's maid is looking worse for wear and Emma doesn't mean just the bruises.

"Anna? How are you doing?" Emma asks as she catches up with her as they walk along the landing.

Anna smiles tightly at her. "Fine. I'm fine, Emma. Thank you." She answers shortly.

Emma is surprised by her response but doesn't let it deter her. "It's just if you want to talk about it? You shouldn't carry it on—"

"I said I'm fine." Anna cuts her off, picking up her pace. "There's much to do."

Emma stops and stares after her with great sadness. What is she to do?

——

At dinner that night, Emma becomes even more concerned for Billy as she watches him sit in his seat looking despondent, not joining in the conversation from where she sits on the opposite side of Tom to him. Robert and Isobel are discussing the idea of setting up an out-clinic at the Hospital, Tom had asked a simple question and it had snowballed from there.

"Aren't we encouraging a nation of hypochondriacs, if they rush to a doctor at every twinge?" Robert asks Isobel as Jimmy serves him.

"On the contrary. I think it encourages people to look after themselves and not become a burden." Isobel argues from where she sits between Emma and Cora.

"Hmm, so you mean to help?"

Emma perks up at this, pleased to hear Isobel getting involved again.

"A little. Just to provide some free labour. No more than that." Isobel replies softly.

"I wish someone would provide me with some free labour." Robert grumbles.

"Oh. Lloyd George would never allow it." Violet chuckles.

A look at Mr Carson tells Emma that he'd rather not even hear that name mentioned in this house. Suppose that's what happens when a prime minister is big on social reform and ending a lot of privileges of the British upper class with heavier tax burdens on them, among them the inheritance tax, or 'death duties'.

"Rosamund is so looking forward to seeing you." Cora says to Rose, who sits on her other side.

"Poor Aunt Rosamund. We use her like an hotel." Edith comments as she sits between her father and sister.

Emma shrugs. "She likes seeing her family and entertaining. What's wrong with that?"

Mary speaks with a brief disapproving look at Edith, "I agree. It gives her a surrogate real life."

"What do you think, Billy? Do you think she minds?" Edith calls to her brother-in-law.

Billy is far away and doesn't seem to even hear the question.

"Billy?" Emma calls. Everyone is looking at him expectantly.

This seems to bring Billy back as he looks at them questioningly. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I'd far rather know what you were thinking." Mary jokingly comments. He gives an embarrassed smile and reaches for his glass. Everyone turns back to having their own conversations but Emma instead continues to stare at Billy in concern.

——

Emma arrives in the Drawing room at Rosamund's house in London. She rolls her eyes at the sight of Lord Gillingham waiting with Rosamund, Rose, Tom, Billy and Sir John Bullock. She greets them and takes a seat. It seems all they have to wait for is Mary.

Mary hurries in, pulling on her gloves. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but Anna couldn't find- Oh." She stops at the sight of the guests.

"I hope I'm a surprise and not a shock." Gillingham remarks hopefully.

Mary looks genuinely shaken. "Well, you're certainly unexpected."

"I thought I'd get up a small party, just an informal one." Rosamund tells her. She indicates to Sir John. "You remember Sir John Bullock?"

"He and Lord Gillingham have just been staying with us." Mary answers rather coolly. Emma doesn't blame her. She herself wouldn't like everyone pushing men onto her.

"Cora said it had been a success."

"How clever of you both to be free at such short notice." Rose says to the two guests.

"They brought your message to my club. I thought I had an evening of cards and whisky ahead, so it was a welcome change of plan." Sir John remarks.

"And what about you?" Mary asks Gillingham.

"Well, I cancelled what I was supposed to be doing." He replies.

"I hope Miss Lane Fox didn't mind."

Emma shares a look with Tom. Miss Lane Fox? Oh dear, poor woman.

"Don't punish me for wanting to see you again."

"John's got a marvellous idea for later on, haven't you?" Rose then butts in.

"After dinner, I thought I could take you all to hear the new band at the Lotus Club. If you'll let me?" He suggests.

Rose turns to Rosamund. "You and Mary can be my chaperones, so what could be more proper?" Rosamund looks amused by the statement.

"It isn't too jazzy, Lady Rosamund. Just a club with a good dance band." Sir John reassures her.

"We can keep the young in order," Gillingham says. He turns to Mary with a considerate. "That's if you like the sound of it."

Mary and Tom look unsure, Emma feels mildly interested while Billy looks like it's the worst idea he's ever heard.

"Please say yes, Mary, do. It's such eons since we've had any fun." Rose pleads.

"What about you, Billy, Emma, Tom?" Mary asks evasively.

"I suppose so but we shouldn't put Tom and Billy through it, they can stay here with Rosamund." Emma suggests.

"Oh, I was thinking I might go, too and Emma cannot possibly come without her own." Rosamund corrects.

"That settles it. Billy can come as Aunt Rosamund's partner." Rose declares. Emma shares a defeated look with Tom and Billy.

Gillingham turns to Tom and Billy. "Well?"

"We give in." Tom uncomfortably replies.

——

This is not a dimly lit, disreputable nightclub, but a very posh place. The company of eight are ascending the stairs. Lively jazz music can be heard from the main room, then applause. Inside the main room, they approach their table. The singer of the band comes into view, singing beautifully.

"Some more champagne over here!" Sir John calls to a waiter.

"I don't really need any more." Mary says.

"Amen to that." Emma adds.

"Nonsense. How can we keep going if we're not properly fuelled?"

Emma scoffs at this man's behaviour his evening of cards and whisky had clearly already begun when he got Rosamund's invitation. He's going to make an idiot out of himself soon.

"I can keep going." Gillingham says pointedly.

He holds his hand out to Mary, inviting her to dance, while the other four sit down. Mary and Gillingham start to dance to a slower number. They share a little laugh. Emma's a bit concerned as she knows that Mary isn't quite at the point of thinking of marrying again and Gillingham is meant to be engaged.

The band, later on, begins to play a song for the tango. Rosamund and Billy are dancing while Emma and Tom are dancing nearby.

"Quite the opposite to the pub we'd go to with your family and our friends in Dublin, isn't it?" Emma remarks.

"Very." Tom huffs. He pauses then as if working up the courage to say something causing Emma to look at him concerned. "Emma, I don't know why you've been feeling down for the past couple days and of course I noticed, I'm your husband. But you do know you can talk to me, about anything."

Emma smiles softly at him. "I know. And I'm fine really."

Tom sighs. "You're not going to tell me anything are you?"

"It's not for me to say."

Emma then spots Sir John swirling Rose around rather forcefully, making silly noises. He's obviously very drunk and Rose seems rather overwhelmed.

"Oh, dear! Er, should we sit down?" Rosamund tries to suggest to them before she and Billy step off the dance floor, Emma and Tom following.

Rose seems to be trying to encourage him to get off the dance floor but is struggling as he stumbles with her continuously having to catch him.

"It's getting quite out of hand, should we—" Emma tries to say but then suddenly Sir John is barging past them with his hand pressed over his mouth as he hurries from the room.

Rose is left standing alone on the dance floor, deeply embarrassed. The singer walks towards her and starts dancing with her.

Emma is glad about it but then Rosamund sees what's going on. "Oh, Mary." She murmurs alarmed. "Tom, could you..." Rosamund indicates to the dance floor.

Emma narrows her eyes knowing she's reacting like this because he's black and hurriedly says, "I'll come with you."

As Tom and Emma approach them, Emma can see how quite taken with the singer Rose is.

"Rose. I've been sent to fetch you." Tom says.

The singer stops dancing with Rose and lets go of her. "Well, if your friends are waiting..."

"I'm so sorry. Um, this is Tom Branson and his wife, Emma. This is Mr Ross. He rescued me from deep humiliation." Rose introduces. She and Mr Ross share a chuckle.

"We should be going." Tom says instead of greeting Mr Ross.

Emma is angry and annoyed with Tom for his attitude to Mr Ross. She turns to the singer with a smile. "Thank you, Mr Ross."

Rose gives Jack an apologetic smile, then moves back towards their table with Tom and Emma. "There was no need to be rude."

"I wasn't rude." Tom replies.

"Yes, you were." Emma retorts. Tom looks surprised at her sharp tone.

Rose turns to the table at large. "Where's John?"

"I should think he's gone home." Gillingham says as he, Mary, Billy and Rosamund all rise from their chairs.

"Well, have we all had enough?" Rosamund asks.

"I hope he paid the bill before he left." Rose utters. "Honestly, if it hadn't have been for Mr Ross—"

"You looked as if you were having quite an adventure with your gallant band leader." Rosamund cuts her off censoriously.

"He was terribly nice! And John had made me look like such a fool!" Rose defends. The others walk out, making Rose feel rather stupid.

"Don't worry, Rose," Emma reassures her as they leave. "They're all just being ignorant."

——

The six remaining party-goers return and take off their coats, handing them to the staff that greet them. Gillingham had said goodbye earlier.

"I'm going up." Rosamund says.

Rose speaks with a sigh, "I'll come with you. I'm whacked."

"I'm assuming Sir John Bullock has blotted his copybook for you."

"Oh, I don't know. Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?"

"Not everyone, no." Rosamund retorts. "Things have come to a pretty pass when you have to be rescued by a black bandleader."

"What's wrong with that?" Emma asks sharply and pointedly.

"I was jolly pleased anyone wanted to rescue me, and so would you have been." Rose adds.

Rose and Rosamund start walking up the stairs together. Mary goes after them. Tom moves to go with them but then stops when realising Emma isn't following.

"Emma?"

"I'll be up in a moment." She tells him. She turns to Billy, who stands next to her. Emma decides that this is as good a time as ever to find out what's going on. "What's the matter? You've been walking under a dark cloud all day."

"If I told you, you'd despise me." Billy replies.

Emma looks at him in surprise before moving to one of encouragement. "I dreaded telling someone something once, but when I did, it made things much easier between us and I felt better myself."

"Well, I couldn't say it. Not to you."

Emma feels hurt he won't tell her but knows she can't make him so she relents, "Then find someone you can tell. It will help more than you know. And on that modest note... goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She walks up the stairs.

——

Mary and Tom go to see the tax people at noon and soon they are all on their way back to Downton.

When the cars reach Downton, Alfred and Jimmy both move to open the doors to let them out.

"Thank you." Emma murmurs to Alfred as he holds the door open for her as she steps out with Tom, Billy and Madge following while Anna, Mary and Rose step out of the other car. The footman gives her a brief smile.

Emma follows Mary and Rose as they walk towards the front door. Anna and Madge turn aside towards the servants' Courtyard. Emma watches after them in concern. The lady's maid has still been quiet the entire trip.

"Rose," Mary calls out causing the young girl to turn, "Anna needs to use your curling irons."

"All right. Madge?" The maid gives her a nod to indicate she hears.

"Mine are broken." Mary explains.

"You'll have to get new ones." Emma says to Mary as she and Tom walk with her through the door.

Emma doesn't hear Mary's response as when she glances back to look at Billy, she sees him walk off after Anna and Madge in the direction of the Yard, too. Emma's eyebrows furrow as she continues walking. She hopes that perhaps he's taken her advice.

——

Emma is with Tom and Mary in the Drawing room, spending time with Michael, Ivy, Sybbie and George. Emma had missed her children the past couple of days and is thrilled to see them. However, she wonders where Billy is. Emma hasn't seen him since he disappeared earlier.

Mary looks shaken as she talks lovingly to her son, probably due to the arrival of a certain Lord Gillingham, who is apparently staying the night. Emma can't help but feel annoyed by the man's actions. What about this Mabel Lane Fox?

Edith headed off on a train up to London just before their return. Seems things are moving forward with Michael Gregson's trip to Germany.

Billy then comes barging in, breaking Emma from her thoughts, and apologising. Emma can see he looks lighter than he has been the past couple of days, relieved. She's annoyed she doesn't know what happened but is pleased to see Billy unburdened as he greets his daughter. If only Emma could lose hers.

Gemma pops her head in just before Emma goes down to the Drawing room for dinner and informs her that Edna has suddenly handed in her notice, family troubles apparently. Not that Emma believes it for a second. She suspects it might have something to do with Billy being down in the mouth. Emma knows the ex-lady's maid had attempted flirtation and that with him last time she was at Downton and was probably up to the same tricks.

It's after dinner in the Drawing room that Emma witnesses Isobel walk up to Gillingham, shake his hand and express her wish to see him up at Downton again. Emma is full of admiration for the woman, knowing it must be hard for her to see the possibility of Mary moving on after Matthew.

——

Emma is walking down the stairs with Tom, down to the Great Hall the next day, when she hears Thomas speaking. She pauses to watch causing Tom to do the same.

"Only I have a candidate I'd like to put forward, who I know very well and is more than qualified." Thomas is saying. Must be about Cora needing a new lady's maid though Emma can't help but feel like Thomas is up to something because when is he not?

"You must discuss it with her ladyship, but I've no objection." Robert tells him.

"She's a little older than Miss Braithwaite."

"Well, that won't hurt." Emma drily remarks.

Robert looks across at Emma in surprise, walking towards her. "Why do you say that?" He asks as the door leading to the Outer Hall admits Mary and Thomas walk away with a curious look in her direction. Emma sees Tom frowning at her.

She shrugs. "No reason."

Mary approaches them. Emma notes that she's alone despite having headed off on a walk with Lord Gillingham.

"Where's Tony? Has he gone?" Robert asks his daughter.

"He thought he'd said all his goodbyes, and he wanted to catch the half past nine." Mary calmly replies. She turns to Tom. "Are you ready?" Tom nods.

"Where are you going?"

"They're going to York." Emma answers. "For estimates to re-equip the saw mill." Tom looks at her with impressed surprise. "What? I do listen to you when you ramble on."

Tom gives her a teasing smile before turning it on Mary. "So, will we be seeing Tony Gillingham again?"

Mary replies in a would-be unconcerned tone. "I'm sure we will... eventually. He was telling me about Mabel Lane Fox. Apparently, they're getting engaged." Robert looks as if all his hopes have just come crashing down, which they have. "I imagine he'll be very taken up with that."

"Yes, I dare say." Robert says as he looks at his daughter with some doubt. Emma can't blame him as she's doing the exact same thing.

"Right, I'll get my hat," Mary says. She walks away in the direction of the staircase. Tom and Robert walk off in opposite directions as Emma stays where she is, watching Mary slowly make her way up the stairs. She seems to cut a regretful figure.

——

A/N: "blotted their copybook for you" = For those not familiar with the expression, this means to tarnish someone's reputation. A copybook was a child's school book with exercises for neat handwriting. A blotted copybook would get bad marks.

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#downton abbey

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