#Amelia: Pitcher

[goldenstarprincesses]

From the photo album of Lord Arthur Kirkland- Amelia, Smith College, 1883

Historical Note: In 1866, the first all women-baseball team was formed at Vassar College. While this first team, and the many that followed, never lasted long due to outside pressures related to fears that such "manly" activities would harm the female reproductive system, many unofficial teams began to pop-up at the women's college of the Eastern United States. One such team was formed at Smith College in 1883. For many of these early sport pioneers, the uniform consisted of wool dresses that went from either the ankle to just above the knee. Often teams would personalize them with embroidery and other design choices.

Color drawing and references under cut

[libraryofloveletters]

chapter eight: lucky doesn't cover it

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: honeymoon stage, seb is so cheesy and soooo touchy, it's like two teenagers in love really, nsfw themes but nothing graphic, suggestions to sex and nsfw content, liv and millie are so sus of you two, the lies are catching up to you two, secrets are told, family sweetness. - this is low-key a filler chapter, I have drama next chapter *smiles evilly*

Word Count: 3.1k

Author’s Note: sorry for the 4 million year wait, y'all know I love me some seb so hopefully this makes up for the lack of seb lately. don't blame me, tell that man to come out of hiding again!

sugar and spice; all things nice masterlist

---

It has been a few weeks since your first date with Sebastian and things were going well, beyond well actually. You couldn't have asked for a better version of things to unfold.

The two of you had begun dating but decided to keep things quiet, especially from Olivia and Amelia. Neither of you wanted to complicate things for the girls, wanting to keep things as they were in case it didn't work between you two, god forbid.

Liv and Milly were currently in the pool at your place, you had brought lunch out onto the back deck and Sebastian was keeping an eye on them while they were in the pool. The door creaks, Seb glances over his shoulder to see you coming out with a pitcher of juice, setting it down on the table with the food you had brought out moments before.

You leant over slightly, pouring some juice into the cups for the girls when your knee brushes against Seb's thigh. His black shorts left his legs on display and typically, you'd regard his legs as just.. legs but something about Sebastian was different now, you weren't sure if it was because now he was your man or if you had been so pent up and now that you'd getting a chance to release it, it's hitting you at once.

Seb's forearm lays on the arm rest, fingers creeping up the back of your thigh to the hem of your shorts. Almost leaning into his touch, Olivia's voice pulls you from the thoughts in your head.

"Is lunch ready, mama?!" She shouts from the pool.

Clearing your throat, you nod. "Yeah!" You reach behind to swat Seb's wandering hand away, throwing him a glare as you pick up the towels and walk over to help the girls out of the pool.

The man watches as you wrap the towels around the girls, sending them off in the direction of the table to eat and he can't help but smile; how did he ever get so lucky ?

Olivia and Amelia sit across from Seb, the two of them joint at the hip like baby penguins waddling about. The only chair left was the one next to Seb, it had become your usual spot anyways.

The 4 of you chatted, the girls updated you both on class trips, projects and the drama between Susan B and Susan H. Seb was more intrigued than you as you had heard the rundown when you picked them up from school on Friday.

A warm hand rests on your thigh under the table, startling you momentarily. You look over to see if he was trying to get your attention, but he wasn't. "Does Susan B know that Susan H held Josh's hand on the playground?" He asked the girls, clearly caught up in the drama of second grade.

Amelia corrects him. "It was Susan H that held Josh's hand, dad. Susan B was boyfriend girlfriend with Josh first."

"And Susan B saw all of it happen while she was on the swings too," Olivia adds, making sure to emphasize on her words for dramatic effect.

You smile, shaking your head at the second grade drama as your hand rests atop Seb's, fingers interlocking over his. The man squeezes your thigh softly as his thumb rubs gently over your skin.

Lucky doesn't begin to cover it.

--

"Milly!" Olivia shouts, pulling on your hand as you locked the car. You see the blonde girl and her dad, both of their curls unruly and sparkling under the morning sunshine.

Amelia smiles, shouting back. "Liv!"

Sebastian lets his little girl when he sees you with Olivia, knowing you'd stop them from running into the busy parking lot. The two girls wrapped each other in a hug, Milly says good morning to you and you smile, saying it back. You followed closely behind them as you attempted to put Milly's hair into a ponytail while they walked, knowing they had gym class and having her hair in her face would bother her.

"Good morning, Mr. Seb!" Liv smiles at the man, Seb pinches her cheek softly. "Morning sweet pea," he says back with a smile.

The girls were whispering about something, perhaps the fact that Josh was giggling with Susan H today instead of Susan B. Seb nudges your shoulder, leaning into you slightly. "Morning you."

"Good morning Sebastian," you glance at him, knowing better than to start him up before he doesn't stop.

His hand rests on his chest, feigning hurt. "Sebastian? You wound me, woman."

"I try my best," you smiled, turning your head to look at him. Sebastian leans into you, his lips by your ear. “You look nice. I like your top,” he gestures to his chest, his fingers brushing over his sternum - just as he did months ago when you helped him with Milly's bedroom.

The action causes you to look down, your top had slipped a little bit when you grabbed Olivia's bag out of the car.

You roll your eyes, swatting his arm playfully before readjusting your shirt. "Behave, there are children here."

"There are children at home too, but we've done dirty things there too-" "Dad!" Milly shouts, getting her dad's attention. "Did you put my water bottle in my bag?"

"It's in your lunch bag, kiddo." He tells her, fixing the strap on her bag. "Now you two are gonna be late if you don't get your butts down to line up."

The girls hug each of you, switching to hug the other and then run off to line up for entry. You and Seb waved to them from the sidewalk before you head back to the parking lot, his hand resting on your lower back as you walk. HIs hand slipped lower and lower by the second until you stepped away.

Your back is against the pickup, looking at your boyfriend - that's such a funny term. You didn't think at your age, with a 7 year old kid that you'd have a boyfriend again. It seems unreal to you, both in a good way and a bad way.

"Do you have work today?" He asks, noticing you've taken the truck and not your car.

"Yeah, gotta drop by the construction site today."

"What time are you off?"

"Noon-ish probably, I hope. You know how it goes with them," you shrugged. Seb nods, "the girls are staying at school for lunch today, sooo... why don't you come by after you're done work?"

"Are you gonna cook me lunch then, Sebastian?" You asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn't a big cook but there were a few recipes that he had perfected and liked to make.

He shrugs, making a face. A hand resting behind your head, caging you in between him and the truck. "Figured we could order from your favourite Italian place."

"As nice as that sounds, you know how slow they are. It'll take them forever to deliver."

Sebastian's got a wicked grin on his face, something dirty on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be said. He leans in, lips by your ear. "There's a way we can pass the time."

If you hadn't gotten what he was suggesting before, his lips on your neck gave it away. "Sebastian!" You giggled, pushing him away. "Stop it before we get in trouble."

"We don't go to school here, it's fine."

"We have kids that go here though, and I have work. I need to go before you make me late."

"You're no fun," he tells you, pouting like a child as you get into the truck, your door still open as you look at him. "Stop pouting, you doofus. Come gimme a kiss so I can go," your hand stretched out for him.

Seb smiles, reaching up to give you a kiss before you let him go. "Have a good day, I'll see you after."

"Drive safe," you tell him, shutting the door. You wind down the window. "Not like a formula one driver!"

"I'll try my best!" He shouts, "no promises!"

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you pulled out of the parking lot.

--

Clothes scattered on the floor, your heels kicked off on the steps on the way up to Seb's bedroom and your purse long forgotten by the front door.

"C'mere," Seb grabs your arm, pulling your back flush against his chest. His warmth kept you snuggled into him, not wanting to move anytime soon.

"We really do need to get up."

"What for?" He asks, peppering kisses along your shoulder. You roll your eyes, "you ordered food and frankly, I'm starving."

"Yeah?" He says, you can sense the shit eating grin on his face. "Wonder why you're so hungry."

"Oh hush," you reach back, smacking his cheek softly. "I had work, don't think so highly of yourself."

Seb laughs, untangling himself from you when the doorbell rings. "As if you summoned them, honey." He pulls his shorts on, grabbing his wallet off of the nightstand.

You roll over, grabbing his hand. "I have to go," he tells you and you pout, making a face. Seb smiles, leaning down to kiss your head. "I'll be back in two seconds, and I'll have your chicken parm so you'll love me even more."

"Yeah," you chuckled, leaning back. "Fine."

Seb laughs, leaving you in bed to go get the delivery from the guy. You decided that pasta was too messy to eat in bed so you got dressed, meaning you borrowed Seb's shirt and made your way downstairs.

"Sleeping beauty emerges," he jokes and earns another eye roll from you. The two of you find your way to the kitchen, as you do most times, grabbing what you need before making your way to the table.

It was a very domestic scene; sitting at the table, eating as you discussed what the girls had in school that week. As if you had been married for years.

"I have to get dressed," you announce, getting up as Seb took the empty plates to the kitchen. "What for?" He glanced at you, rinsing the plates out to put them into the dishwasher.

"We have to pick up the girls."

"I'll pick them up, you rest."

"You're sure?" You asked and Seb nodded, "100%, you stay and relax." He kisses you softly, hands cupping your cheeks.

You smile and nod, following him to the door. "Where are you going?" Seb asks.

"I'm going to get dressed."

The man looks at you clearly confused, he had already told you to stay and relax and that he would pick up the girls.

"They can't come home to see me wandering around here in just your shirt, they don't need to see that."

"I do," he raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin on his face. "Sebastian behave," you groaned, rolling your eyes playfully at his childishness. He smiles, putting his hoodie on before grabbing his car keys.

"I'll see you when I'm back," he tells you, giving you a kiss before heading out.

The drive to the school was normal, 5 minutes and he's parked, waiting for the two girls to come out. The teacher sees Sebastian, waving to him as he signals that he's taking both Milly and Liv home today. It's nothing unusual that you and Seb take turns picking up the girls, it's just whoever was free or closer. Most times Seb picks them up as you're usually at work.

Milly's holding one of his hands and Liv is holding the other, the 3 of them walking back to his car. "Mr. Seb? Where's mom?" Liv asks him, the man looks at her puzzled for a moment.

"Uh she's at our place."

Milly and Liv exchange a confused glance as they climb into the car. "What's she doing there?" Milly asks her father, clearly curious.

"Well, she was running late on her way back from work so I told her I'd pick you guys up and meet her at home."

The answer seemed to curb their curiosity for the time being, Seb driving home with the girls. Your truck parked on the road as you were always certain you'd crash into Seb's car if you pulled into the driveway.

The girls were held expecting you to get out of the truck but Seb instead led them to the front door, unlocking it to let them in. "Hi girls!" You called, stepping out of the kitchen. You had gotten redressed while they were gone, much to Sebastian's dismay.

"Hi mama," Liv says, glancing at her best friend. "Mr. Seb said you were running late from work."

"I was," you tell her, glancing at Seb. The man shrugs from behind the girls as if to say he needed an excuse.

Milly or Liv seemed to be buying the lame ass excuse you and Seb - mostly Seb- came up with. "How'd you get inside?" Milly asks you, knowing her dad had just unlocked the front door.

This story wasn't adding up.

Seb clears his throat. "Why don't you two go get a snack, you can have candy if you want. There's Kit Kat in the pantry." He tells them, the girls drop their bags by the stairs and go running to the pantry.

You look behind you to make sure the girls are gone before walking over to Seb. "Really? I'm running late but I'm in the house? You couldn't come up with something better?" You whispered to him.

The man shrugged, "they're like mini detectives, all scary and judgey. I had to say something!" he whisper shouts to you, "we need to tell them."

"Already? It's too soon."

"We're together all the time, babe. I can't keep kissing you in secret." He says, a look feigning exhaust from the lack of kisses on his face.

You sigh, nodding. "Fine," your hand cups his cheek, kissing him softly. "Let's go."

"Girls?!" Seb calls for them, "can you come here? Y/n and I want to talk to you!"

The girls come in, chocolate on their faces and fingers. You grab a tissue and wrap their faces and hands as they sit on the couch, you and Seb are across from them on the other couch. "What is it?" Milly asks, looking between you and Seb.

"Well," you start, looking to see if Seb wants to speak but he signals for you to go ahead; typical men. "How would you two feel if.. Mr. Seb and I started.. well, seeing each other?" You asked them, the girls both have a confused look on their faces.

They exchange a glance, "what does that mean?" Milly asks, her brows furrowed; the splitting image of her father.

"It means they kiss!" Liv tells her, her hand over her mouth as she giggles. Milly makes a face. "Ew! Cooties!" She giggled, her and Olivia making faces at each other.

You and Seb exchange a look, trying not to laugh.

"It does mean we kiss," Seb says, "but it means we like each other."

"Like how we like each other?" Liv asks, "like best friends?"

"Sort of," Seb smiles, "it's more like when two grown-ups really like each other in a special way. They care about each other a lot, like how friends care about each other, but with even more love."

"So super duper best friends," Liv says, making you laugh.

"Basically, yeah. How do you guys feel about that?" You asked, not wanting to leave any stone unturned.

"Does this mean we're.. sisters?" Milly asks, "cause you're Liv's mom and you're my dad so you're mom and dad.."

"I guess," you say, looking at Seb for some help. "I mean, yeah. You are sisters."

The girls giggle, "cool!" They happen to say at the same time and get up, coming over to hug you and Seb. You smile, "we've got to head home, sweetheart. You can come by tomorrow if you want."

She makes a sad face but nods, her and Milly walking to the door to gather Liv's stuff when Seb pulls you up from the couch and into a hug. "See? Was that so hard?"

"Shut up," you huffed, the man laughed as you two walked to the front door.

You watch as the girls hug each other bye, Milly comes over to give you a hug and you lean down to hug her back. Seb kisses Liv's head before turning to you, giving you a kiss.

"Ew!" The girls chorus, making the two of you laugh.

You and Olivia head home, the two of you going about your evening. Liv does her homework while you worked on some work plans and emails, you had dinner together and then both of you did your night time routines before you joined her in her bedroom for story time.

"Mom?" Liv calls for you as you shut the book, setting it on her nightstand. "What is it, kiddo?"

"Does this mean Mr. Seb is my dad?" She asks, leaving you stumped.

You sit there for a moment, trying to figure out how you'd answer her question. "Well, no. He's not your actual dad but you can look at him like your dad if you want."

She nods. "Do I keep calling him Mr. Seb?"

"Yeah, I would think so."

Seb was in a similar situation at his place, Milly had begged him to watch her favourite cartoon instead of story time and Seb caved. The two of them on the couch when she turns to her dad. "If Liv and I are sisters, does this mean auntie y/n is my mommy now?"

It takes him a second to register the question. He can't say yes, because Milly did see pictures of her actual mother, but it's also not a no.

"In a way, yes. She's not your mommy but you can look at her like your mommy, she'll always be there for you."

Milly seemed satisfied with her father's answer, nodding as she turned her attention back to the tv.

---

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[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 377: The Beginnings of Empire

“Do we have to watch the news?” Julia asked, pouring a half-refill into Josie’s red solo cup, which she’d balanced on her what-could-almost-be-called prodigious chest. Fed by each of Dr. J's little expulsions at Missy’s hand, it was becoming quite the nice cup holder. 

Josie Jensen liked these kind of nights. Even if it was a Tuesday, even if they needed to work the next day, even if they weren’t out partying. Being together, with the girls, just felt right. The group of them - Randi, Amelia and Julia, and her new friend Lakshmi - had been at the Tipsy Taco earlier this evening. The 'Missy' effect  or what some of the girls were calling the  'Blissy' effect or simply ‘the Bliss’, had come during their first round of drinks. Missy and Dr. J were obviously having fun together somewhere and it was making the buttons nearly pop on all their tops. Nice way to start the evening! Now completely full, they were vegged-out, gorged to the gills on hamburgers at Josie’s place. Lounging around, watching TV. Amelia was doing Lakshmi’s nails. Julia had made them some more margaritas. Josie felt bloated and chubby and somewhat regretting her little binge.

All of them sorta missed Melissa and - what the fuck, why could they feel it in their bones like this? - Dr. J. The dude was a nerd but nnnngh, maybe they’d get some more Bliss off him in a bit. Odds were good, since they could all still feel that Missy and J were still together. 

“There’s a new episode of ‘Stinkers!…we should watch that,” Julia suggested.

“Oooo our patient is in that, right?” called Lakshmi.

“Yah,” answered Randi, voice extra-smoky tonight. She’d been showing off her new skills of getting big shit into her mouth at the bar, freaking out some guys. Her hand, one of their hands. A pint glass. It was quite the trick.  “Adrienne’s like, taking over that house with those new tits of hers.” 

“She’s getting so pretty,” someone commented. 

“Dude, no, this is important,” Josie replied, raptly watching CNN over the rim of her margarita and trying not to let its plastic straw poke up into her right nostril.

Her mom had started back to work recently, at first a marketing consultant for a bunch of 'New Woman' campaigns, and now she was transitioning to more permanent positions on staff with a few of the recently-elected women headed to Washington. So, Josie had picked up the politics bug over the past few months; it was really fascinating. The world was changing so fast, and it got her excited.

 “I’m taping ‘Stinkers!’ anyway, we can watch that after this,” Josie allowed.

It was a cool reality show, but she really wanted to see what was happening in East Makata. 

“What’s the U.N.’s reaction to this going to be?” came the anchor’s question to their guest, a sweaty doof with a comb-over. 

It had just been reported earlier today. Some company had taken over a small country. Listening to the anchor-lady behind the news desk, and the guy she was interviewing tell it, it sounded like something between a coup d’etat and a purchase. It hadn’t really made big headlines, but Josie had seen it and there was something about the story that gripped her.  

“Where’s Makata anyways?” Julia, the shapely redhead among them asked. She emptied the last of her pitcher into Amelia’s empty cup.

“East Makata,” Josie corrected. 

“It is in Central Africa,” Lakshmi offered, nodding at the map on the big screen over her shoulder. 

“Kind of near Wakanda?” Julia posited.  

“Wakanda’s fake,” Amelia retorted, “East Makata’s not. You’d know that if you ever paid attention in Geography.”

“I never heard of it,” Julia shrugged, walking away back towards the kitchen ostensibly to make another pitcher.

Josie rolled her eyes. She guessed the similarities were there: tiny African nation, pretty isolated, landlocked. Removed from lots going on in the larger world. But, unlike Wakanda, East Makata was poor as fuck and beset by constant violence and the machinations of warlords. This big corporation, it was kind of ambiguous which one still, though this guy had his theories, had come in and bankrolled their way into power. How they were going to run it was still unclear.

“Isn’t the company this guy’s talking about the same one that we think kinda owns Evolution?” asked Randi. 

“The Russian thing?”

“I did not think the Collective was in the business of politics,” Lakshmi offered. 

“I guess they are now,” drawled Amelia. She was starting with a clear coat of polish on Kiki’s left hand. “All hail The Great Mother, right?”

Amelia’s comment made Josie tingle, and her hair wiggled on the sofa pillow beside her. If it was KOLECTV, and the Eastern European conglomerate was everything she’d heard, this was super-cool news, thrilling. East Makata, an actual nation, was now in the hands of women. Not just governed - that was happening everywhere, around the world - but owned. Women controlled it completely. They could do anything.

“They’re a small nation, yes, but I’ve been watching this unfold for a while now,” came the guy’s onscreen voice as he defended his positions, “and my investigations have shown that this ‘Collective’ and its network of subsidiaries has been purchasing up land in the surrounding countries as well. And doing similar things worldwide. The U.N., or someone, really has to step in.” The guy had begun to drone. “It’s the responsibility of the larger world to-“

The girls all watched, but attention had started to wane.

“This guy sounds like a tool.”

 “He’s definitely mansplaining.”

That should be a federal offense, Josie mused to herself, maybe it will be someday. She pulled the red solo cup from out of her top, took one long drag of a sip, and put it aside. 

 “Who is this reporter guy anyway?” asked Randi, “Some author?”

“I dunno,” Amelia said dryly, “I’m sure he’ll disappear soon.”

"Yeah.. "

“Hey, wanna put on ‘Stinkers!’?”

“Sure.”

…

…

“...I miss Dr. J,” someone said. 

“Me too,” Josie answered, pulling her phone from out her top. 

“Yeah I could really use some cock right now,” Randi chuckled, stretching her jaw and bringing giggles from others. 

Josie opened up her phone, raised it above herself to take a picture. 

“Let’s send him a kiss…”

===========================

big thanks to RiF for some above-and-beyond editing, and my usual team of ninja assassins for guidance

[instructionsnotincluded]

Frank flies back to Ratcliffe and meets the girls in the officers mess for dinner.

She’s relieved that Rose appears to be late, and is conversing with Dot and Amelia when Rose comes in a plops a full and heavy bag on the table, rattling the dishes.

“What on earth are you doing, Rose?” They ask as she takes out an array of vegetables and places them in order of size on the table.

“I have *questions* Stella Frank.”

Their server fumbles the water pitcher as he looks on in horrified fascination, and Dot covers her face in her hands.

Amelia high fives Rose.

OMG SHE WOULD TOTALLY DO THIS. Like she bribed someone in the kitchens and the farmers nearby for ALL OF THESE VEGGIES and they're just so confused why she needs so many and then she pulls out the spaghetti squash and holds it up with her eyebrows raised and Dorothy just LOSES it. 🤣

[twosroos]

Attempting

roos says ! is this in character? no idea. rooster plays a big role here bc i can imagine him being fed up with everyones shit very quickly. also fanboy playing guitar is such a good idea i love it. also this being called 'how guitar??' in my docs is rlly funny to me, thought I'd share :)

desc ! you've worked at the Hard Deck for a few years now, and everyday you swear you fall more in love with your job. Little do you know, the Daggers are enacting a plan on Fanboy's behalf-- an attempt to swoon you with live music.

genre ! pure fluff baby

TWs: drunkenness, cursing

Being a server at The Hard Deck was probably one of the best post-college decisions you had made. In the past three years that you'd worked there, Penny had become more of a mother than a boss, and your co-workers were like sisters. The restaurant was one hundred percent your second home, and if you found yourself bored at home, there was always something to be done there. It was not the only job you had, freelance didn't pay consistently enough though, so you found yourself working at both The Hard Deck and a small boat rental company on the shore for vacationing families in San Diego. Moving to California right after graduation was the worst post-college decision you had made. Rent was high, jobs were hard to come by, and even with your three roommates in your two-bedroom apartment, you still struggled to make every end meet. But you made it work, with the help of your co-workers, your perseverance, and a shit-ton of luck you somehow had. The day was winding to an end, the golden sun cresting over the ocean and shimmering the day's goodbye across the sky in vibrant hues. You snuck a picture on your phone, sending it to your roommates with an inside joke caption before you shoved it in your apron and adjusted your shirt. The low-cut v-necks were a new uniform piece, and optional compared to the usual button-up shirts or the custom company tees. The cut didn't bother you, but, as you served around a group of regulars-- the Iron Daggers, you'd come to call them, since it was their Squadron's nickname, you caught the eyes of the man who simply would not stop staring at you since you'd served him months ago. Fanboy, his name tag read, and luckily for you, it was a busy Saturday, so you didn't have to keep his dark eyes gaze with his soft grin pushing up his tanned cheeks, and ugh, why was he so... perfect? 

He was nice, you'd spoken a few times. He was from New Hampshire, hated the cold, and moved to California the second he got the opportunity to. He was in the Navy now, and you respected his line of work but weren't the type to settle down. Even years after graduating with a master's degree in Architecture, you still needed to land a solid job you could keep. And nothing in this area was lasting you longer than six months, or it paid job-to-job, which you fucking hated. Sure, it was nice to have a couple of thousand dollars dropped in at once, but it wasn't sustainable for your compulsive buying habits.

You made your way back to the servers station, tugging up the v-neck and huffing, reminding yourself mentally to wash your other work shirts when you got home. As you stood on your toes to grab a pitcher, someone else kicked open the swinging door and groaned as they set down the various plastic baskets of fries on the dish shelf.

"How long do you think we'll go until the jukebox gets shuts off?" A fellow server, Savannah, asks as she starts dumping the fries into the trash and the plastic bins into a dish tray. Her long blonde hair is pulled up in a perfect ponytail, the whispy hairs framing her face. She always looked so flawless, it made you a bit jealous, but you knew she'd taken a lot of time to care for and nurture her look. She did a wonderful job.

"Give them two rounds." Amelia comments from the other side of the server station, she's propped up on a counter, idly typing away on her laptop with one earbud in. You chuckle to yourself as you carry the two pitchers in one hand over to the other side of the kitchen, throwing a towel over your shoulder as you grab ice from the cooler and a scoop for the ice. You bend over to begin filling up your pitchers.

"Your mom would be pissed if she saw you on that counter, Amelia." You comment, moving the full pitcher to the side as you fill the other. Savannah walks over to a small mirror in the station and adjusts her hair and makeup as she chuckles along to your comment. 

Amelia pointedly rolls her eyes, "She's with Maverick today."

"Oh god, another woman lost to the Navy." Savannah salutes and you blow a huff out of your nose with a smirk, rolling your eyes as you use a small "drink gun" (which was essentially a soda fountain in a hose) to fill your pitchers. The six kids there were absolutely downing every small cup you gave them, so this would be easier, for you and their parents who had to flag you down every five seconds.

"Be careful, Y/n might be next." Amelia looks at you over her laptop screen, "I saw Fanboy checking you out."

"That's a him issue." You say, "And I refuse to date Navy."

Savannah turns back to you with an overexaggerated pout, "Awe, why not? Fanboy's cute!"

"Nope, no Navy." You say, and then you perk up when you realize the music had stopped at some point during your conversation, "Are the Daggers on their first round still?"

"Just got the second from Macie at the bar. Shit, it took that little time?"

"Unsurprising." Amelia smiles, putting her second earpod in. You grab both of the pitchers, shrugging to Savannah in a sort of 'we knew this would happen gesture which she giggles at before you dip out of the kitchen with the pitchers in hand.

Now, what usually happened when the jukebox got unplugged was Rooster would saunter over to the piano and serenade everyone with Great Balls of Fire. But that was not what was happening, because someone was playing the guitar.

Who the fuck brought their guitar to a dive bar?

You recognized the tune immediately though, it's 'I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For,' a song you'd loved for as long as you could remember, and you recalled you'd been humming it only an hour or so ago when the Iron Daggers had first walked in. Which you only remembered because Fanboy had commented on it then. As you set the pitchers down at the table of kids, the Mom smiles.

"Those aviators always surprise me with their talents." She whispers as if trying not to interrupt the pretty acoustics. You can't help but agree, watching the mostly tipsy aviators sing and sway over by the piano's nook. Rooster joins on piano, and the whole bar starts to hum along. It's a lot slower than usual, but the joy in singing and being together is clear on everyone's smiling faces.

Then, you realize who's playing guitar as you see his eyes meet yours across the dimly lit bar.

"I didn't know he could play." You say the mother and she smiles, turning to her husband and singing as you find yourself entranced as you slowly move a bit closer to where the aviators sit. Fanboy plays the guitar nimbly, his fingers not once dragging along the frets as he strums the tune out. Subconsciously, you smile, before realizing just how long you've held eye contact and breaking it in favor of slipping away and further into the bar.

--

The next time the daggers are in the bar, Phoenix, Halo, and Coyote are seated at the bar while you're working behind it. The three have ordered enough alcohol to support a small army, which you assume is the pilots behind them, plus a few older pilots you don't recognize. You spot Maverick between two men you don't notice, both have their wives draped lazily on their arms, and pool ques go unused in their hands as they drink and talk with the younger pilots beside them.

"Did Mickey really bring his guitar again?" You hear Coyote ask as you pour him a B52 shot to go with his coffee.

"Head over heels." Halo comments, taking a sip of her cosmo, "He's fuckin' whipped into shape and she has no idea."

"Who do you think it is?" You ask, sliding the shot to Coyote and the look Phoenix and Halo share is enough to cut diamonds. It makes you shift, "Nevermind, the jukebox is currently being unplugged by a drunk mustache man."

"Oh boy." Phoenix takes a long sip of her drink, and her glass sets down on the wooden bar in time with the first strum of a Grenade. You blink, looking across the bar to where you watch the drunk pilots sing together.

"Oh, I love Bruno Mars." You softly muse and Phoenix makes a face at Coyote and Halo that has them both groaning and laying their heads on the bar. You roll your eyes and lean back on the bar, watching the group.

It keeps happening for weeks, every shift you work, at least Hangman, Payback, and Rooster show up with Fanboy. And every time, after Fanboy's had at least two drinks, he plays a song. Sometimes Rooster initiates the song, but the night always starts with beer. Usually either Blue Moon or Bud Light. You find that every shift, you begin to wonder when they'll come in, and every shift you feel yourself slowly spending more and more time by the piano area. You end up getting the front of the house as your section every night, you know Penny does it on purpose.

Tonight's like any other, drunk pilots, bell ringing, spilling beer and soda on your hands and shoes, blue cheese, wing sauce, basically any liquid-like substance making you have to stop and wash your hands a hundred times through the night. But, The Hard Deck closes at midnight, and at around 11:50, all the regulars know to leave. Which makes all the others swarming the bar also want to leave. Tonight seems to be an exception for the Iron Daggers, though. They all hang back by the bar, chatting with Penny and Macie and you find yourself in a gossip circle as you take a stool from the bar and seat yourself. Your closing work is done, and you've done just about everything else for the Sunday night closing work besides mopping the floor, which you have to wait for everyone to leave to start. You have no responsibilities right now, so a soda by the bar won't hurt.

"He won't shut up about it." Phoenix laughs, swirling the wine in her hand. You know it's a local wine from a place Penny had visited in New Jersey years ago based on the fact that you'd heard the woman complaining she needed to sell it all before it went bad and the new shipment came in. And then she'd cursed Navy people for not drinking wine, while you were two glasses in, and you'd laughed so hard you almost puked. It was a... long day.

"Who won't shut up about what?" you ask as you slip behind the bar and use the soda gun to pour yourself a Coke.

"Fanboy's got a massive crush." A very drunk Bob says.

"Shots with Omaha got him again?" Penny teases and Bob crosses his arms before laying his head on them as he grumbles some sort of complaint that makes you laugh softly.

"Anyway, Y/n." Phoenix swats Bob's shoulder, "How do you enjoy serving us every single night?"

"I don't mind, actually. You guys always have something fun going on, and it's entertaining to watch it. Though I'm starting to wonder if all pilots magically have some sort of musical ability," You take a long sip of your drink while Bob laughs, sitting back up, swaying, and then laying back down.

"Only when they're trying to serenade-"

"Floyd." Phoenix cuts him off, "You're terrible at keeping secrets while drunk."

"Oh sorry," Bob says with a flush to his cheeks and a giddy giggle on his lips. You blink away, Savannah taking control of the conversation with a story about a table she had today. You look over to where Fanboy, Hangman, and Rooster sit and talk by the darts. But your eyes narrow when you see Rooster making some sort of vague hand motions at you. Before Fanboy slumps against the table, Hangman laughs.

"Hey, Y/n!" Rooster calls, waving you over, much to the visible dismay of Fanboy. You make your way back around the bar and over to where they sit, swirling your drink in hand.

"Gonna have to kick you boys out as soon as we get Bob a ride home." You say as you walk over, using one hand to adjust your server's aprons, feeling the fabric bump against the few decorative rings you wear.

"Yeah, well Fanboy needs one too." Rooster smacks his shoulder and you give him an odd look.

"Okay..?"

"Y/n. I have a..." Hangman drawls out and you watch as Fanboy's head perks up from where it had previously been buried in his arms, "a question."

"Fire away." You take a sip of your coke.

"Are you free Friday night?" You nearly spit out said coke. It takes you a minute, and a few coughs, to regain your posture.

You clear your throat, taking another sip of Coke to wash down the scratchiness, "Not for you."

"Sucks to suck, bags." Fanboy says and you giggle at his comment when he notices you see his whole face light up red. It looks cute, the way his pupils dilate when you make eye contact, and his insult dies in his throat.

Rooster kicks Hangman under the table, making another vague gesture between you and Fanboy. 

"Yo loverboy," Hangman kicks Fanboy, and Rooster groans, burying his head in his hands, "Follow me up, here, we had a plan."

"A plan?" You say, the three drunk pilots (with Rooster, for once, being the soberest of the group) blinking up at you.

"You ruined it, bagman." Fanboy sits up, brushing a hand through his hair, "I uh... well, I was also wondering if you're free Friday."

"Well, I wish I was. I have work." You say, watching as Fanboy sags, so you keep going, "You can always bring your guitar back around here if you want to hang out a bit."

Rooster's short patience wears out, "Y/n. You're both clueless here. Mickey beside me is askin' you on a date, like a one-on-one thing here."

Oh.

Oh.

"I--" You stammer, but Rooster keeps going.

"He's been spending the past three weeks tryna serenade you or some shit because he claims its super romantic but it literally hasn't worked one time and I'm sick of hearing him complain about it--"

"--Bradshaw!" Phoenix complains from the bar, he pretends to not hear her.

"For the love of god, go on one date with him or something."

"Dude." Fanboy says after a moment, and Hangman has to walk away because he's laughing so hard.

"You've been..." You gesture to Fanboy and he nods, so you turn to Penny who gives you a thumbs up.

"Guess I'm free Friday then." You murmur and he smiles.

--

Every day since then, save for the days of the Uranium Mission and other small deployments, has been a bit of a musical breeze. It's only been two months, but dear god you've never fallen faster for someone. The pilots still come around to the Hard Deck, though, if you're not closing and you get off early, you always end up tucked in a back corner with Fanboy's hand on your waist. It's become routine for you guys to spend time at your house since he lives on base, and his guitar always comes with him. When you're cooking for him on days he comes back from training exhausted, laying around on the couch or outside with him, or with his multitude of friends, there's always a tune playing in your ear.

And honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

[khaylin27]

All you need is Baseball and Love

Part 4 of DODGERS VS PHILLIES BABY!!!

Pairing: Miles Teller x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: Reader gets invited by the Dodgers to be a guest pitcher at a Phillies vs. Dodgers game. What Reader doesn't know is that Miles has a surprise for her.

Warnings: FLUFF

Word Count: 1172

A/N: BEFORE YALL COME AT ME, I respect Miles and Keleigh's relationship and marriage. THEY ARE RELATIONSHIP GOALS!!!! I wanted to write this because I love Miles and baseball. If you feel this isn't for you, please don't read it.

Today was an exciting day for you as a Dodgers fan. You got invited by the Dodgers to be the guest pitcher for the Phillies vs. Dodgers game. This was a big deal for you as a Dodger fan because you've always dreamed of being a guest pitcher and now you are.

When you got the invite, you asked your manager to invite your family and Miles for this special day. Your family obviously said yes because they love the Dodgers as much as you do. They're the reason why you're a Dodger fan today.

Miles was so happy for you and said yes in support of you and the Phillies. He asked if he could bring his family too and you said yes. You've met his family multiple times and you love them so you obviously said yes.

Now as the day has finally come you were so excited. Miles and your family were on the Dodger field with you as you were waiting for Miles's family to arrive.

"Are you excited Sugar?" Miles hugs you from the back of you. He was wearing his classic red Phillies hat and his red jersey that says Teller on the back.

"She better be excited or else I'll take her spot light." Your little brother, Calvin, tells you and Miles.

You both laugh at Calvin's comment. "Hey don't be nosey," your Mom playfully smacks Calvin on his head.

"It's okay, he's just a kid." Miles tells your mother.

"He's a teenager babe, he shouldn't be listening to our conversation." You explain to Miles.

"At least we weren't talking about anything dirty." Miles gives you a dirty smirk and your brother is in utter disgust.

"You see that's what happens when you listen to other people's conversations." You laugh as your brother fake gags and leaves to go to your father.

As you watch your brother leave, Miles's niece, Amelia, run to Miles. "Uncle Miles!"

"Come here my little bug." Amelia runs to Miles and he picks her up to give her a big hug. "I've missed you my little bug."

"Wow no hug for me?" You say to Miles and Amelia.

" It's okay Y/N, this baby boy will definitely love you more than Miles." Miles's sister, Dana, says as she hugs you. Dana was currently 9 months pregnant ready for the baby to pop out at any moment. " How are you? Feeling nervous?"

"I should be asking you that question, Dana." You laugh at her question. "Thank you for coming. I know it was at such short notice and your pregnant too. So it must've been hard."

"It's okay Y/N. We would do anything for you and Miles." Miles's mother, Merry, says and gives you a hug. "Oh I've missed you so much. You need to come to the Phildelphina more."

"I know, my work has been busy. But I told my manager that after this I would take a weak off of work to spread time with Miles and the family." Y/N explains to Merry her plan after this.

"Oh sounds perfect! So excited for you guys to come home and spend time with us." Merry says excited.

"Hey Y /N, when are you going to pitch?" Miles's father, Mike, asks you. As he asks you the Dodgers announcer starts talking.

ANNOUNCER: Welcome to Dodger baseball everyone. Today we have a special guest, Y/N L/N!

Once you hear your name you go the pitcher mount and wave to the fans. They all cheer when you wave to them. It was like a dream to you.

ANNOUNCER: She'll be our guest pitcher today and our guest catcher, her boyfriend, Miles Teller!

You were in shock, Miles was going to catch the ball you were about to pitch. This was unreal to you.

"Wait is this real?" You ask your boyfriend as he walks to home base.

"Sure is Sugar." He says and smiles at you.

"This literally is the greatest rivally of all time!" You yell out to him from where you were at.

"Sure will Sugar," He fixes his position behind the home base and looks at you. " Are you ready Sugar?"

"I sure am," you say. One of the workers from the stadium gives you a brand new ball to pitch.

You consentrate on Miles's glove and pitch the ball at it. Miles catches it and the crowd goes wild.

"AHH, I did it! OMG I can't believe I did it!" You shout excitedly and ran to Miles.

When you run to Miles he picks you up and kissed you passionately. "You did so good Sugar!" He kisses you again. "Here's the ball."

As he was about to give you the ball, he unexpectedly goes down on one knee and proposes to you. You were in utter shock, you couldn't believe this was happening. Miles was proposing to you at your favorite place.

"The moment that I met you, I knew you were the one. Your love for baseball was something I've never seen before. And I know that you may love the Dodger but I knew you were truly the one when you supported me during the World Series. There are so many things I wanna say but the main thing I want to say is, I love you. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. So Y/N, will you marry me."

" YES, YES, YES!!!" You happily smile at him and give him a hug. "I love you so much."

" I love you more, now let me put this ring and make this official." You nod as he puts the ring on your ring finger. Once it's put on you smile at each other.

ANNOUNCER: Congratulations Y/N and Miles!!! * the crowd cheers*

Later

After the engagement, you, Miles, and both your families watch the game together. Let's just say it was very competitive since it was the Dodgers vs. Phillies. The Dodgers may have lost but in the end they were all happy that Miles proposed to you.

"Are you excited to become Mrs. Teller, Sugar?" Miles asks you when you get to the bed.

You give him a kiss, "I sure am. I would marry you right now if I could."

"I mean if you want we can," Miles bear hugs you on the bed.

"No, I want a big wedding with all our friends and family." You give a peck of a kiss to his forehead.

"That's fine with me too. I can't wait for you to be Mrs. Teller and wear Phillie red." You laugh at his little comment.

"You wish. I can't wait to see you in Dodger blue." You kiss him again and turn to the side to go to sleep. "Plus at one point you have to wear Dodger blue since I wore Phillie red."

"In your dreams Sugar. Goodnight, I love you." He gives you a kiss on your head and cuddles you to sleep.

Here's to be added to the taglist

Taglist:(crossed out means I couldn't tag you) @eternalsams @angiem219 @mizzysx @xlynnx07 @withakindheartx @lethalbeautiful @atarmychick007 @shanimallina87 @adoringsebstan @mak-32 @nograce-nomercy @brittancqs

[akallabeth-joie]

The Blue Castle, Chapter 40

Aaaand, we’re back on Elm St. Symbolic rosebush is in bud (but not, at the moment, blossoming).

This description of the living room couldn’t be more different from the cabin: everything’s useless decoration: fussy, stuffy, and nonfunctional (the pitcher, the clock). The gaudy, nonworking clock particularly caught my attention in contrast to the jolly clock of the cabin.

I know Valancy’s too upset to let any Stirling nonsense bother her, but I’m still taking off for Amelia & Cousin Stickles not wanting her back. And another for “I don’t forgive you.” And one from Uncle Benjamin for rejoicing at Valancy’s misfortune/his perceived power over her.

Look, I don’t know 1920s Canadian law on divorce, but Uncle Benjamin’s line of questioning is precisely the sort of thing that would prevent her from being eligible for a divorce in England. I know we want her to stay with Barney, but at this exact moment Uncle Benjamin is gathering evidence to undermine Valancy’s stated goal (divorce so Barney can be free again), so he’s getting another -1.

Uncle Benjamin turning on Amelia and Christine ought to be delicious, but at this point I’m just sick of the whole family’s mercenary hypocrisy. I wish Valancy had gone back to Abel Gay’s instead.

“She did not even remind Valancy that her plight was the outcome of her own lack of daughterly respect and obedience.” Such forebearance!

It’s time for an updated scoreboard!

Mrs. Stirling: -50

Cousin Stickles: -18

Uncle Benjamin: -15

Aunt Wellington: -11

Uncle James: -11

Olive: -7

Uncle Wellington: -4

Byron Stirling: -2

Aunt Isabel: -2

Cousin Gladys: -2

Cousin Betty: -1

Aunt Mildred: -1

Second Cousin Sarah Taylor: -1

Aunt Alberta: 0

Uncle Herbert: 0

Second Cousin Jane: 0

Cousin Georgiana: 7

[trashbins-stuff]

whos ur favorite character

*sit you down* buckle up soap bc it's gonna be a bit of a long ride lol

mlp: Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle

ninjago: Zane, Jay, Nya

lalaloopsy: Jewel Sparkle, Mittens fluff 'n' stuff, Pepper pots 'n' pans

undertale/deltarune: the kfcs (Kris, Frisk, Chara), Alphys, Papyrus, Ralsei

pusheen: Pusheen, Bo, Stormy

pokemon: Snivy

winx club: Bloom, Flora, Icy

gravity falls: Mabel, Waddle

adventure time: Finn, Jake, Marceline, Lumpy Space Princess

svtfoe: Ponyhead

steven universe: Pearl, Lapis Lazuli

tawog: Gumball, Darwin, Anais, Larry

peppa pig: Ms.Rabbit (NOT mommy rabbit)

chowder: Chowder, Gazpacho, Shnitzel

OK K.O!: K.O, Enid

amphibia: Sasha Waybright, Marcy Wu, Anne Boonchuy, Polly Plantar, Ivy Sundew

the owl house: Gus Porter, Willow Park, Luz Noceda, Amity Blight

eddsworld: Matt, Ringo

inanimate insanity: Mephone4, Bot, Cabby, Taco, Suitcase

bfdi: Four, X, Remote, Ruby, Taggy

hfjone: Airy, Liam/Backpack, Charlottle/Moldy, Texty, Scenty/Amelia, Tray

aib: Oodle, Blanket, Recycling Bin

tnm: Tophat, Spraypaint, Folder

ppt2: Treasure Chest, Bottle, Slipper, Gold Ingot, Silver Ingot, Ukelele

hsgtos: Happy Star

olo: Paint Pallete, Pitcher, Notebook

voo: Perfume, Blue Rectangle, TV

burner: Kit

lots: Crown, Charger Block

oi: Bread, Phone, Skittle, Ipad

bfg: Flash, Rubber Duckie

calculated battleground+obs: Calculatory, Crayon, Buzzery

cast 139: Nacho

tdos: Computer, Moonlight, Cos

there's probably more fandom im in but forgor lol

[resowrites]

Sherlock Holmes: The Winding Sheet Part 3 (finale)

Summary: Amelia Bainbridge is urgently seeking the assistance of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, so that she might finally understand what caused her brothers mysterious death six months ago. At first the facts are scant and Mr. Holmes dismisses the case as unworthy of his time. But then Amelia mentions a curious detail and suddenly, the game is afoot…

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (I envisioned Henry’s version but the story could apply to Rathbone right through to Cumberbatch), OC!Amelia Bainbridge, Mrs. Hudson, OC characters.

Warnings: adult/dark themes such as murder, occasional threat of violence/danger, some period misogyny, angsty, mentions of sickness and death, lightly beta’d.

WC: 2394

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! No copyright infringement intended, gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Part 3:

Mr. Holmes strode back into the bedroom with renewed purpose. Having already examined it from top to toe, he was sure that if there was an external cause of Mr. Bainbridge's death, it would now be visible. The curtains were tied back, the bed had been made and the washstand fitted out with a pitcher and bowl. But Mr. Holmes was more concerned with the desk. He pulled back its chair, almost knocking over the bedclothes laid over its back for Miss Bainbridge, and quickly scanned its surface. Some paper and a pot of ink were carefully positioned in the middle but otherwise, the desk was bare. He hastily opened each draw, his hope for what he wished to discover rapidly fading. And then he saw them. Quickly, he lifted one up to his nose and sniffed. The scent was faint but unmistakable. He hurriedly packed them away in his suit pocket, and took one final look at the ceiling just to be sure. He then turned to smile at Amelia. 

"Well Miss Bainbridge, I believe we have done all we can for the moment... if you'll escort me out..." they then quickly headed back downstairs, taking care not to slam any doors or tread too heavily. When they'd finally reached the front door, Mr. Holmes did his best to provide reassurance. "Fear not Miss Bainbridge... I believe you will be quite safe. A word of warning, however... if you are offered more light sometime this evening, in whatever form, accept but do not use it. Stay in your room if possible and go straight to bed. If you care to visit me one final time tomorrow... I believe I can explain everything. Good day to you." He smiled at her briefly before departing, feeling no small amount of relief that his presence seemed to have gone unnoticed. This however was far from the case, Mr. Thomas peered carefully from the edge of the curtain he'd pulled aside, immediately recognising the silhouette of the man who was fleeing from his house. 

Later that day.

Mr. Holmes contemplated his next steps carefully. Of course, he could conduct the experiment back at Baker Street, but it would likely produce a lot of smoke and that would most certainly annoy Mrs. Hudson. Then again if he headed to St. Barts, he may not get the answers he needed quickly enough. He gambled on being able to convince Dr. Michael Stamford to allow him the use of some equipment for a couple of hours or more. Dr. Stamford, an old and dear friend of Dr. Watson's, similarly held Mr. Holmes in high regard and was usually happy to help in any way he could with his cases. Fortunately, Mr. Holmes found him hunched over several textbooks in an otherwise deserted lab. "Ah... Stamford, I am sorry to drop by unannounced but I have an urgent matter to investigate. Would you permit me the use of some of your equipment?" Dr. Stamford almost jumped at the sound of his voice but soon laughed heartily and scurried his way to the far less jovial detective.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes! How wonderful to see you, sir! I trust you are well? Is Dr. Watson not with you?" While Mr. Holmes appreciated that there were always going to be those who went through life in a jolly and otherwise unfazed manner, he couldn't quite bring himself to mimic such behaviour.

"Sadly not, the good doctor is away on sabbatical though he will return to Baker Street soon. Tell me Stamford, do you have any sulphuric ether?" The doctor's face became confused, not quite understanding why such a chemical would be needed.

"I can certainly attempt to round some up, why on earth do you need such a substance?" Mr. Holmes simply smiled and led the doctor over to a table piled high with various tubes and scientific apparatus.

Sometime that evening.

Miss Bainbridge had elected to spend the rest of the day outdoors, the events of that afternoon had left her nerves rattled though she was grateful Mr. Holmes had managed to get into the house twice without being seen. She felt unusually apprehensive about the oncoming night, though she tried to reassure herself that as long as she followed his advice, she would be safe from whatever dirty tricks she was sure her stepfather had in mind. Eventually, she gave up the struggle of trying to read while her mind was otherwise preoccupied and decided to retire to bed. Chills ran up her spine as she entered her brother's old bedroom, though there was nothing that singled it out from any other room in the house, he'd still died there and Amelia was dreadfully afraid of the same fate befalling her. 

Although she was loathe to send her mind racing any further by dwelling on Mr. Holmes, she couldn't stop herself from walking over to the desk to see what had him so transfixed. But there was nothing out of the ordinary, the drawers were still empty and all that remained on top was the paper and ink. She decided she may as well catch up on some correspondence, her friend Fanny would want to hear all about her meeting with Mr. Holmes - especially how handsome he was. Amelia smiled as she sank into the chair and began scribbling away, aware that the light was fading and she'd soon have to go to sleep. About ten minutes into her task, she heard a faint knock at the door. "Come..." she remained focused on the letter, smiling from ear to ear at how she'd managed to describe Mr. Holmes’s thick brown curls. That smile quickly disappeared from her face when she turned to see her stepfather standing in the doorway. "Ah... father, what is it?" He smiled an evil little smile and took the liberty of stepping into the room.

"My dear, I'm glad to see your headache is better. I believe the maid neglected to bring you some candles. Here, you'll be able to write much more easily..." Amelia tried to keep her expression neutral.

"Yes it is getting rather dark in here, thank you, Father." He left the candles and matches on her bedside table before smiling once again and departing. Once she was sure he'd gone, Amelia got up and turned them over in her hands. They were just regular candles, she didn't know why Mr. Holmes had warned her not to use any but she simply shrugged and decided to finish her letter the following morning. She stretched, went over to lock the bedroom door, and got changed into her bedclothes.

The following morning.

Amelia almost missed her stop she was so tired. She quickly excused herself after having fallen asleep on some random gentleman's shoulder and hurried onto the platform. She'd only got a few hours' sleep she was so anxious about surviving the night. Nothing unusual seemed to have happened barring another visit from stepfather near midnight. He'd let himself into the room to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep with the candles burning - or so he said. But he was surprised to look over and find none had even been lit. She'd groggily dismissed him and Mr. Thomas fled the room, his picture a face of anger. At least now she knew he had another key and would probably attempt to enter her room again. Such thoughts filled her with dread and she could only hope Mr. Holmes had good news for her.

The sun was high in the sky that morning and it promised to be a particularly hot day. Fortunately Baker Street seemed much cooler. The morning room had all the curtains drawn and though the air was thick with pipe smoke, she'd rather be there than in the scorching streets. "Ah, Miss Bainbridge... how good of you to join me. Please, sit." She followed his command, eager for him to reveal the cause of her months long nightmare. "Well, it seems I have managed to clear this little mess up." He then threw the same candles that had been in her room, onto the coffee table between them. Amelia stared at him confused.

"The candles? They caused my brother's death?" Although Mr. Holmes often felt impatient at such moments, he could see why the young woman would be confused.

"In a manner of speaking... yes. You see your case struck me as particularly unremarkable at first. But when you mentioned the locked windows, it seemed to me that there must have been something placed in your brother's room that depended on them being kept shut." Amelia still didn't quite follow him but she continued to listen carefully. "When you mentioned your stepfather was an importer, my first port of call was the dockyards. I have a contact there who keeps an eye on any strange or unusual imports for me..." Again, she was confused.

"Forgive me Mr. Holmes, but how would candles qualify as an unusual import?" He smiled at her briefly.

"They wouldn't... except these are not regular candles as you have no doubt realised. And had I not been looking for them, they most likely would have escaped everyone's attention altogether." She had to admit she felt defeated. The situation was no clearer to her now than it had been before she even visited Mr. Holmes. "Some decades ago Miss Bainbridge, an inventor in France stumbled upon a way to make candles cheaper and more effective. It involved the mixing of arsenious acid into stearine wax..." Amelia's expression turned horrified.

"Arsenic! Good lord, it can't be... how on earth did my stepfather get his hands on that?" It was a perfectly fair question though one Mr. Holmes could only surmise.

"Given that he is an importer, one would imagine your stepfather has an array of contacts who could source for him any item he requires. However, given that 'corpse candles' are now banned throughout France and elsewhere, it would seem your stepfather had these specially made. I am still tracing the precise manufacturer though I have already alerted my colleagues in France." Amelia felt her sense of indignation rise, only her stepfather could be capable of something so dreadful.

"But Mr. Holmes... they look like ordinary candles, are you sure they're what killed my brother?" He hated being questioned in such a way. He was always economical with words and wouldn't have confirmed his suspicions unless they were correct.

"I am quite sure Miss Bainbridge. Another colleague of mine was able to help me conduct the necessary experiments yesterday afternoon. As soon as the fatty portion of the candle dissolved in sulphuric ether, the arsenious acid was precipitated for collection. We estimated about four grains of arsenic per candle, about the usual amount." Amelia could hardly believe what she was hearing. It was a horrendously insidious and ugly way to murder someone. For a while, she was lost for words. Mr. Holmes had to proceed cautiously, taking into consideration her obvious grief. "I am sorry Miss Bainbridge, it was a wicked act and I will help you to seek justice as best I can. I have already contacted the local police and they are seeking Mr. Thomas as we speak. He may try and feign ignorance of such a purchase but once his bespoke order from France is confirmed, he will have little choice but to confess. It will then be down to the jury whether he is committed to prison indefinitely... or hung.” Amelia looked up steadily and he could see the fire in her eyes. 

"Mr. Holmes I hardly know what to say... I'm stunned that you would even think to examine something as innocuous as a candle. Tell me, was there any way we could have known?" For a moment he felt sympathy for this troubled young woman.

"Miss Bainbridge, you must not seek to blame yourself. I knew a substance was the cause of your brother's death as otherwise, the autopsy would likely have been far more conclusive. Our means of testing is not perfect and the results are often inaccurate. As murder is also my line of enquiry, I have made it my business to acquaint myself with all manners of killing - from the brutish to the subtle. I have come across few arsenic deaths in recent years as fortunately, the substance has largely fallen out of use. However, it has a peculiar garlic like odour when used in candles... as soon as I held one in my hands I knew that it was likely the cause of your brother's death. I have also taken the liberty of ordering another toxicity report, it does not surprise me that the last autopsy performed was inadequate. Given the large spate of scarlet fever deaths, it was most likely rushed, or only trace elements of the poison were found. That is sometimes the case with sufferers and it makes the job of determining any malicious intent much harder. Fear not though Miss Bainbridge, Mr. Thomas will get his comeuppance. Tell me, did your brother notice any symptoms before his death... any at all?" Amelia had to cast her mind back.

"Well, he complained of headaches... though his eyesight was poor and he regularly suffered with them. He was also drinking far more... but again that could have had any cause. Oh if only he hadn't insisted on reading before bed! This whole nightmare could have been avoided..." tears began to fill her eyes and Mr. Holmes didn't quite know what to do.

"That is doubtful Miss Bainbridge, your stepfather was determined to remove you both from the picture, and had you not contacted me when you did, you would likely have succumbed to the same fate. But you must take heart... your troubles are now over. Mr. Thomas will not darken your doorway again.” And Mr. Holmes was true to his word. Another autopsy confirmed Mr. Bainbridge had been gradually poisoned. Mr. Thomas was swiftly arrested as were his counterparts in France. All the men involved were eventually tried and hung and Miss Bainbridge finally had the peace of mind she'd so longed for. However, she wasn’t quite so carefree again and ordered the sole use of gas from then on, never again was a candle to be bought into her house. 

A/N: Hi guys, as a huge Sherlock Holmes fan of both the original stories and the many series/films, it’s my pleasure to present this new short series. This is the final part! I hope you all enjoyed the ending and felt I captured something of the spirit of the original stories. Any feedback is appreciated and I hope you’ll continue to stick around and enjoy stories in the future!

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

[askmyocsfromseveralfandoms]

Ocs!

GF:

Daisy Frost

Elmer Frost

CRK:

Pumpkin Cookie

Pumpkin Spice Cookie

Sugar Glazed Pumpkin Cookie

Magician Cookie

Whipped Cream Cookie

S’mores Cookie

Milk Chocolate Cookie

Pharaoh Cookie

Strawberry Shortcake Cookie

Snow Cone Cookie

Sea Weed Cookie

I have 936 but here are my main ocs-

HSC:

Angel Calvin

Alexander Allens

PW:

Angel May

Annie May

Ciara Layes

Ciera Layes

Amy Debeste

Dennis Tainne

Lianne Coleman

Lio Coleman

Liana Coleman

Jonathan Deiluv

John Deiluv

Clara Williams

Mathew P. Rick

Veronica Jules

Phay Saj

Alexander Koi

Michael Rollans

FNF:

Amelia Monique

Noe

Victoria/Ria

Marlie

Potato

Fries

Among Us:

Wolfpup

DumMeatBread

Potato Fries

Harry Potter:

Noel Silver

Lexi Silver

Mel Silver

FNAF:

Alexander(Alex)

Alexandra(Alexa)

Allen

Pepa Parrot

Luis Lynx

Hyla Hydra

TSP:

Maddie Rider

Author

Gem Rose

Grace Rays/Gay-mer #24

TD:

Emmie Silver (No,she is not related to Noel Silver)

Ginna Summers

Damien Michel

James Prince “JP” Jones

Apollo Mendez

Amy Mendez

Lia Shane

Lio Shane

Ellie Mina

Eliza Mina

M Mendoza

Mika Mendoza

Object Shows:

[CAP]

Paper Bag

Glasses

Guitar

Speakers

Colored Paper

Backpack

Tomato

Fork

Curtain

Scissors

Pool float

Pumpkin

Baguette

Churro

Chocolate donut

Coloring book

Crayons

Oil pastels

Laptop

Fan

Beanie

Picture frame

Drawing tablet

Notebook

Colored pencil

C4

Daggers

Daisy

Flower Pot

Spinning Ballerina

Daisy Seed

Wine glass

Water pitcher

Cream Puff

Camera

Snake

Crystal Ball

Hand Mirror

Magic Wand

Card Stack

Blob

Glitch

Charger

Keys

Ice Cream

Stylus

Bowtie

Apron

Trumpet

Violin

Halo

Amulet

Muffin

Invisible Wall

Lighter

Fur Ball

Gun

Gift Box

Boxing Glove

Spring

Lamp

Pillow

Google Translate

Meme

Sunglasses

Crown

Tiara

Bumble Bee

Air

Watch

Candy Heart

Shadow

Lightning Necklace

Mood Ring

Comedy Book

Pebble

Shapeshifter

Correction Tape

Duster

Mop

Water Bucket

Song

Script

Hidden Camera

Banana

Orange

Lemon Juice

Cup

Knight

Spear

High Heels

List

Permanent Ink

Ink

Dino Toy

Paint Bucket

Mini Paint Brush

Cake Pop

Last Place Medal

Pizza Slice

Treasure Chest

Golden Coin

Silver Coin

Bent spoon

Rusty Spoon

Bucket Of Sand

Shovel

Toxic Waste

Polluted Air

Noelle

Athena

[BTTI]

Gigabyte

Megabyte

Megawatt

ICloud

Storage

Application

Electricity

Digital

Digital Battery

Camera App

Google

Youtube

Twitter

Tiktok

Instagram

Gacha Club

Cookie Run:Kingdom

Messenger

Tumblr

Facebook

Recroom

IbisPaint X

Twitch

Texting Story

Kinemaster

Picsart

Capcut

Gmail

Spotify

Discord

Glitch

Virus

Buffering

Malfunction

Tablet

Wire

CU:

Ellie Jamison

Ellen Jamison

Kristine Krupp

CN McArthur

Simon Tolentino

Adriana Maddison

Naixil Seyer

Tina Treys

Roblox:

DumMeatBread

Encanto:

Payne

Ari

Nixxie

Ali

Saphire

Cloud

Reina

Allen

Pierce

Peony

Eddie

Nino

Jace

Kyra

Yuri

Yazan

Mira

Mina

Elleon

Oliver

Olivia

Margaret

Jahn

RD

Jane

Jan

Falcon

Pablo

Pace

Juan

Stella

Sergio

JP

Phoenix

Amber

Snowflake

Alroy

Lolita

Fiona

Ada

Marigold

Alex

Nada

Lilian

Liliane

Gigi

Diana

Diano

Júlia

Lia

Pokemon:

Alliana

Brian

Cherry

Dia

Everest

Faire

Giana

Liona

Prof.Willow

Britney

Brendon

Alexander

Zoi

Baxter

Yui

Cayla

X

Diana

Warren

Ellie

Vannesa

Alfonzo

Teeki(Fire/Ghost)

Lirog(Water/Poison)

Flowt(Grass/Flying)

Maskoura(Fire/Ghost)

Poitoad(Water/Poison)

Hilora(Grass/Flying)

Sealer(Water/Ice)

Caledyar(Ice/Fire/Grass)

Jokeon(Laughing/Poison)

Asheon(Lava)

Slimeon(Goo)

Mealeon(Food)

Museon(Music)

Mageon(Magic)

Elementeon(Elemental)

Rusheon(Hyper)

Sweetieon(Sugar)

Emoteon(Emotional)

Glitcheon(Glitch)

Kyuteon(Beauty)

Campeon(Camp)

Ribeon(Bone)

Twineon(Co-op)

Personaleon(Personality)

Compulseon(Disorder)

Tumbleon(Gymnast)

Universeon(Universal)

Normaleon(Normal)

Phoeneon(Fire)

Waveon(Water)

Foresteon(Grass)

Fluffeon(Flying)

Meleeon(Fighting)

Toxeon(Poison)

Thundeon(Electric)

Diggeon(Ground)

Crysteon(Rock)

Futeon(Psychic)

Frozeon(Ice)

Ladeon(Bug)

Spireon(Ghost)

Metaleon(Steel)

Hydreon(Dragon)

Shadeon(Dark)

Whimseon(Fairy)

Hippeon(Calm)

Saniteon(Sane)

Murdeon(Insane)

Perfumeon(Scent)

Broadcasteon(Weather)

Exeon(Abnormal)

Kanddi(Sugar)

Multin(Lava)

Misingno(Glitch)

Mįšśìñg_Tēxtûrę(Glitch)

Manypula(Emotional)

Sirkou(Laughing)

Sown wayv(Music)

Frozine(Ice/Grass)

Glacitree(Ice/Grass/Camp)

Pixxirod(Electric/Metal/Fairy)

Job Simulator:

Sugarbot

Cuphead:

Jenna

Lucy

Damien

OJ

LJ

MLB:

Lottie

Axxylottl

Arien

Tumblr Ocs:

Mod

Writer

Potato/Fries

Artist

Shipper

Procrastinator

IRL

Righty Tighty

Lefty Lucy

[kanisema-blog]

My phone buzzed, shattering the comfortable silence of my apartment. It was a message from Alex, the new barista at my favorite coffee shop. We'd fallen into a routine – endless cups of strong coffee for me, stolen glances and shy smiles for him. Today, though, his text was different.

"Hey, Amelia! Trying out this new beef stew recipe at home. Any tips?"

My heart did a little happy dance. Alex, the cute coffee guy, was actually texting me! I quickly typed a reply, a sprinkle of helpful advice mixed with a generous helping of flirting. "Beef stew? Classic. Can't go wrong with adding a dash of red wine for that extra oomph." And then, because apparently, subtlety escaped me entirely, I added a winky emoji.

Days turned into weeks, each day a delicious exchange – coffee orders on my end, culinary queries (and not-so-subtle recipe suggestions) from his. Maybe I was delusional, but every message felt like a coded love note, a prelude to something grand. In my head, our story was a whirlwind romance, a meet-cute at the coffee shop blooming into a passionate affair.

One Friday afternoon, I sauntered into the shop, brimming with confidence. Alex, looking adorable in his rumpled apron, smiled at me. "Hey, Amelia! Double espresso, right?"

"Actually," I said, leaning closer, "I was thinking something a little… stronger." I batted my eyelashes, sure that sparks would fly.

He blinked, then chuckled. "Stronger coffee? We have a cold brew on tap, it's pretty potent."

Disappointment flooded me. He didn't get it. Did men even understand flirting anymore?

As the weeks progressed, a nagging doubt started to bloom. Maybe I'd been reading the signs all wrong. Maybe the flirting was just… friendly? Dejected, I slumped into my usual booth, nursing a lukewarm latte.

Alex, bless his oblivious heart, sat down beside me on his break. "Hey," he said, "everything okay? You seem… blue."

I sighed. "You can wipe someone's tears, Alex," I said, my voice thick with frustration, "but you can't wipe away their pain."

His brow furrowed, concern chasing away his usual easy smile. "What's wrong, Amelia? Did something happen?"

He listened patiently as I poured out my heart – the misinterpreted texts, the fabricated love story in my head, the bitter realization that maybe, just maybe, Alex didn't see me as anything more than a regular customer.

Instead of the laughter I expected, he surprised me with a gentle smile. "Amelia," he said, his voice sincere, "you made me blush so hard that first time you winked at me, I nearly spilled the entire milk pitcher."

My jaw dropped. "You… you liked it?"

He chuckled again. "I did. But then, you kept hinting at these 'grand gestures,' and I just thought… well, I thought we were getting to be friends."

Friends. The word pierced my inflated ego. But somewhere, beneath the humiliation, a tiny spark of hope ignited. Maybe friendship wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe it could be the foundation for something real, something built on honesty and shared moments.

"So," I said, a tentative smile playing on my lips, "you gonna let me try that famous beef stew recipe?"

He grinned. "You bet. But on one condition – you gotta return the favor and teach me how to make your killer double espresso."

And that's how our story began, not with a bang, but with a simmering stew and a shared cup of coffee. We learned to navigate the murky waters of friendship blossoming into something more, a love story built on shared laughter, stolen glances that didn't need decoding, and the comforting knowledge that sometimes, the most profound connections start not with grand gestures, but with a simple question about a recipe.

[bharbertlove-blog]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT Vintage Romania Amelia 22k Gold Crystal Pitcher Handblown 64 Oz Floral.

[loudkiwa]

Magic As We Make It - Chapter 9

Alan returned with a tray of cocktails—everyone's favorites—and a pitcher of beer with spare glasses. "Did someone say party?"

June was a hot mess of a month. The first week was midterms and the halls carried a quiet sense of somberness throughout. The second week was completely different as clubs resumed and laughter returned. Except for Amelia. (more…)

[bravenew-what]

I turn on a baseball game on tv while I peruse Getty Images and the first thing I see is someone taking a 95 mph fastball to the nose 😣

[buckyswintersoldiermask]

Swing Set Memories

Dad!Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Steve Masterlist

Summary: You and Steve take a trip down memory lane, remembering when you told him you were pregnant.

Word count: 558

Warnings: none just fluff

A/N: my friend gave me this idea and I thought it was the cutest thing. So :))

(y/d/n): your daughter’s name

Steve was out in the backyard of your cozy little home outside of Brooklyn, working on a swing set for your daughter (y/d/n). You were sitting in the living room with her while she watched Sesame Street.

“You stay here and watch Elmo, I’m going to go give daddy a drink.” You said, getting up and heading to the kitchen. You grabbed the pitcher of fresh lemonade and poured Steve a glass. You took it to him outside as you assessed the progress he’s made.

“Seems like you’ll be out here for a long time.” Steve laughs as you hand him his drink, “surprisingly putting together a swing set is a lot harder than fighting aliens.”

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned around to see your daughter outside.

“(y/d/n) Rogers. Didn’t I tell you to stay inside.”

“I wanted to see daddy.” Your daughter replied, looking at you with innocent eyes. You couldn’t be mad.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Steve said, putting down his drink and holding his arms out to your daughter. She ran to him and Steve lifted her up into the air.

“I’ve been trying to work on your swing set. I might have to call your uncles to help.”

You smiled at Steve and your daughter. She was definitely a daddy’s girl. And Steve was the best dad in the world to her.

“I remember when I told you I was pregnant.” You recalled, thinking of when you told him.

You were working a normal desk job and Steve was still an avenger. So when you found out you didn’t know how to tell him.

“Steve, I have something to tell you.”

He took you into a room so you could talk in private, and he waited for you to speak.

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted out. Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock, which at first worried you.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked to confirm.

“Yes.”

“Oh my god! I’m going to be a dad!”

You felt relieved he was happy, but you knew he had to make some changes before the baby was born.

“You have to be alive to be a dad.”

“I know, I’ll retire soon, I promise.” He said, cupping your face before giving you a hug.

“I remember. You had me running to the store almost every night because of your cravings.” Steve said, smiling down at (y/d/n).

“It was the least you could do, I carried her for over 9 months.” You exclaimed, tickling your daughter's stomach. “Then she came out looking like you.”

“But she has all your personality.” Steve defended, making you smile. Your daughter was a mini you in personality but looked exactly like Steve.

“Retiring was the best thing, I wouldn’t have what I have now if I was still working.” Steve smiled, leaning over to give you a soft peck on the lips.

“Steve Rogers. Former Captain America, now husband and father to one.” You held your arms out to your daughter so you could take her back inside.

“Let’s go back inside and watch Elmo so daddy can finish your swing set okay?” You told your daughter as you walked back inside your house.

Steve on the other hand was dialing Sam’s number,

“Hey Sam, do you know how to build a swing set?”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated :)

Steve Tags: @ragnaroqk @mollysolo @fredweazleyswh0re @mogaruke @whothehellisbuckybarnes @amelia-song-pond @tinylumpiaa @verymuchgivingyes @stephthepeach @ttalisa @supremethunda @gamerartisy @qhbr2013 @afraid-to-be-me @jbreenr @teti-menchon0604

Taglist

[bump1nthen1ght]

Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Gender Fluid!Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of past trauma

Word Count: 3165 words

Summary: You spend a day with your new companion

Chapter 1

“How about this one? It looks rather ripe.”

No, Mistress. The air of decay lingers around it, I fear it will begin showing signs of mold within a day.

“Oh, good eye.” You set the orange down, making sure to hide it away so no other unlucky customer may buy it, wiping your hands on your skirt. “What about this one?”

That one’s fine.

“Sweet.” You say, adding it to the pile of fruit accumulating in your arm. You double check the list. “Alright, I think that’s about everything.” You come up to the stand-worker and set down your fruits on their scale, finagling for the wallet in your pocket.

So many different types of produce. Is this merchant’s estate really so large that they can grow all these things?

“Uh, not exactly.” You mutter, before reminding yourself to speak inwards, as only you can hear the demon lingering nearby. “They actually represent several farms, giving them a cut of the money so the workers can focus on cultivation. Some farms have their own stalls for specialized goods, but these bigger ones are typically conglomerates.” After successfully grabbing your coin purse, you hand the worker some coins and begin loading your bag.

Ah, how convenient.

“Yes, I’d say so.” You once again check your list, mentally checking off the needed groceries. “Okay, I believe that is all the essential stuff. How about we check out some novelty stalls? I hear there’s a fine jewelry maker near the center of town.”

The only jewelry in the Nine Hells is that forged by the damned. Carved out of the husk of dead dimensions.

“So, is that a yes?”

Yes please.

“Cool.”

As you walk along the thinning market crowd, dodging between bakers and families, your shadow twists and turns. Occasionally and discreetly, it will fall behind you and stare at a particularly interesting stall, before leaping back into the darkness and reattaching to your feet. The crowd is so focused on their eye-level, what to be bought, who to sell to, no one really notices the abnormality.

After that night, that horrible night, you woke up in your bed; Sweaty and exhausted, but nonetheless harmed. Your mother had rushed to your side with a pitcher of water, relieved that your fever had finally broken. You had been asleep for a whole 24 hours, your parents finding you in your bed after you didn’t come down to breakfast. Your temperature ran high and you had tossed and turned with some kind of night terror, but recovered rather quickly.

After you had shoo’d your mother away, accepting the large breakfast and assuring her you were fine, the demon had appeared from behind the door frame. You nearly threw a fork right at its face.

-----------

“So that was….It wasn’t just a nightmare?” You muttered, eyes lost in your bowl of cheese grits.

“Yes, my mistress, it was real.” The demon steps out from the shadow of the door, causing you to flinch as their long horns scrape against the low ceiling of your room. They take another step back. “Your body gave out after you spoke your demand. I do apologize for the intrusion, but I searched your mind to find your home and brought you back to your own bed. Was that a correct assumption?”

You nod, shakily stirring your spoon, absentminded. You force your eyes to meet the demon’s, trying to contain your quivers.

“And now-” You gulp, keeping what little composure you have left, “-are you here to collect?”

The demon quirks their head, horns audibly scratching the hardwood. Their brow furrows as they contemplate, before their eyes widen with understanding. They shake their head and take another step forward. You clench your fingers around the blanket, but hold your flinch.

“No, mistress. You are not in debt to me, not in any way. That is not the ritual which was performed.”

You quirk your eyebrows, befuddled. “But, I thought that-”

“The wish you made was not so heavy to require the payment of a soul. Nor would you have been able to make such a wish in the first place.” Without you realizing it, the demon had walked over to your bed. Their staggering height should be intimidating, but the intonation of their words and the look in their eye is calming. Almost reassuring. “The payment was made when you gave me this permanent physical form.” The demon explains, flexing their fingers and faintly tracing the lines of your bedpost. “By pushing your body to the brink of death, you were able to reach across the veil and pull me through . Usually, a soul-paying ritual brings a demon temporarily to the mortal realm, to enact the wish and then take their payment. The summoning spell you performed takes a much stronger mind and body; Not only to bounce back from death, but to carry a new weight with you.”

The demon slowly sets to its knees, laying it’s head down on your blanket. “In that way, I am indebted to you, my mistress, for taking such risks to bring me here.”

You blanch, words escaping you as this massive creature pledges fealty to you. When your vocabulary finally returns to your brain, you shake your hands furiously.

“T-thank you, for your kind words and your help. But you don't need to. I mean, I-I have no want to force you to stay with me. I didn’t even fully understand what I was doing-”

“That is not a requirement, mistress. And you are not forcing me to stay, I want to stay.”

The demon urges, picking its head back up from the quilt. “If it is your wish, however, I can stay in the shadows and not bother you, protect you from afar. I wouldn’t wish to interfere.”

You shake your head once more. “No! No, that won’t be necessary. That sounds even worse, to be honest.” You mutter, picking at the quilt squares with your fingers.

The silence lingers. The Demon, still looking at you in admiration. It’s irises glow even in the soft-morning light, their pupils a deep void amidst the unnatural yellow.

“Well, I am going to eat. Feel free to….look around.” You say, gesturing to your tiny bedroom. The demon nods, slowly retreating from your bedside to the corner, eyes darting around the wallpaper until eventually settling on your dresser and small vanity.

You eat, taking hesitant bites as you watch them wander towards your things, taking the time to observe your minimal decorations. You had a tiny book collection, some knick knacks you had gotten from town or your parent’s travels, and a myriad of plants on your window sill.

The demon hadn’t shown any ill intent, not in their actions nor in their tone, but you still weren’t sure. You had heard stories of tricksters, who lure you in with false promises and sweet lies.

If four young men could do it so easily, imagine what a demon could accomplish.

You shake their faces out of your heads, brushing off the imaginary fingertips clutched around your arms. It’s over; You are safe, in your bed. God knows what happened to them. You fight away that thought as well.

As you slowly finish your breakfast, the Demon is looking at the cover of one of your books. Technically it’s an encyclopedia, filled with all the different types of marine flora and fauna. Your mother had gotten it for your birthday three years ago.

“Umm...demon?”

They pause, setting down the book and looking at you.

“Yes, mistress?”

“I was just wondering, since you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future, what should I call you?” They’re brow furrows, head tilting like that of a befuddled pet.

“I had not really considered that, mistress. Is it important?”

You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Not particularly, I guess. It just feels a bit rude to acknowledge you only as ‘The Demon’.”

The Demon’s face scrunches up, still confused. “In the Nine Hells, I was referred to by my title, I do not see anything wrong with that. It is a correct statement to call me a demon.”

“Well, maybe. I guess up here, your own name is personal. Something that defines you, a part of yourself. Kind of like the way you look, or how you present yourself.” You say, mussing up your bed sheets in an effort to calm your nerves.

The demon pinches their face once more, eyes darting to the book laying upon the desk.

“Is Captain a military rank in this plane as well?” The say, claws tracing the engraved title of the encyclopedia. Sort of confused by the change of subject, you glance towards the book cover. Captain Amelia’s Guide to the Unknown of the Ocean.

“Yes, but it also describes the heads of ships. Those who sail across the seas, discovering new things or dealing in trade. Pretty sure the only requirement is a boat, not a military career.”

The Demon hums, eyes still locked on the cover, decorated by a painting of a large ship, locked in combat with a Kraken.

“Then I think I’d like to be called Captain.”

You nod, fingers still entangled in your bed sheets. Captain looks back to you, sending a calming smile. As calming as a creature with more canines than a wolf can be. Your own smile is shaky, still wary of what is to come.

--------

That was about a week and a half ago now, Captain staying by you as you rested. Your parents only allowed you to help around the house after 3 days of solid bed rest, most of which you spent reading, crocheting, or talking with Captain. When they went off to work, you gave Captain a tour of the house, showing them all the tools of the kitchen and the apothecary.

Their presence had quickly become commonplace, your body no longer jolting when you caught a glimpse of the dark figure in the corner. You two would chit-chat and entertain each other, but knew when to give the other space.

Captain also demonstrated their shape-shifting ability, although it was not as dramatic as you had read about in grimoires. Mostly it was a day-to-day tiny change, one you had learned to acknowledge and inquire how they would like to be referred to as. Captain had been a little bemused by the limitations of your pronouns, but was rather swift in adapting to a strategy which best suited them.

It was nice, if a little bit strange. Although you weren’t sure if the two of you could be considered friends just yet, if not for the short time or them being a Demon bound to you by a blood contract, but you were definitely closer than acquaintances. Comrades, ship mates? You still didn’t know. But as the domestic days dragged on, you find you’re not afraid to find out.

---------

What animal is this, Mistress?

“I believe it’s a seal? Or a sea lion, could never tell the difference, if I’m being honest.” You say, fingers brushing over the wooden charm hanging off the market shelf. It’s small, the details defining but rudimentary.

You have lions which live in the sea? How fiersome.

“Not actual lions, but I’m sure they could put up a good fight. Are there any oceans in the Nine Hells?”

No. Not ones made out of water anyway; Usually its blood or other excrement.

“...Oh.” You mutter, shoving that image out of your mind. Captain didn’t often talk about their home plane, only offering terrifying details that made sense of why they so desperately wanted to escape. As curious as the thought of another dimension was to you, you tried to avoid the topic all together. Captain didn’t seem to mind.

Looking at the small charm, with it’s adorable, puppy like face, you gesture towards the shopkeep.

“How much for this?”

“Only two silver, miss.”

You look down at your spare grocery change, sending a tiny glance to your shadow.

“Would you like this, Captain? We’ve got the coin for it.”

There’s a brief silence, your shadow staying uncannily still.

….For what purpose, Mistress?

You shrug, tapping the dangling charm and watching how it twirls. “No purpose. It’s just rather cute, and well…” You brush a finger over the woodwork, feeling the tiny indentations carved, “If you’re going to be staying with me, you should have some stuff of your own, right? Seems only fair.”

There’s another pause, long enough that you risk another glance at the shade. Even without any definitive form, it looks pensive.

Yes, I would like it, Mistress.

You nod, quickly passing the silver. From the corner of your eye, your shadow seems to perk up. As you pull away from the stall, you slyly drop the charm down and into the darkness, the demon leaping out a hand to catch it. From inside your mind, the warm feeling of contentment and excitement resonates like an undercurrent, bringing a smile to your face. You can picture Captain fiddling with the toy in their massive paws, eyes alight. Butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

Thank you, Mistress. I would not have thought such a tiny thing would bring me such happiness.

You shake your head.

“It’s no problem. If you see anything you like, let me know.”

You’re jolted out of your mind when by a large splash, a woman squealing as mud clings to her skirt, and a young man scrambles to his feet.

“And stay in the mud, you low-life pig!”

“B-But Jezebel, I-I can explain!”

“Explain what, exactly?” A small crowd is beginning to form around the commotion, but you find yourself frozen to your spot, thoughts thrown all over the place.

Three women, all beautiful, stand in the small entryway of a house. At the bottom, now covered in mud, is Richard.

“That you’re cheating scum? That you don’t deserve our time?” The first woman shouts, gesturing to the two others. She’s making a scene and she knows it, reveling in her screaming and his embarrassment. “And I’m not Jezebel, you idiot! I’m Viola!” She nothing short of screeches, leaning down and hurling a chunk of dirt at Richard. The other women huff in agreement, looking at him with disgust and spitting at his feet.

A low murmur has fallen over the crowd, gossip thriving as the women stamp their heels and Viola huffs back into the house. The door is slammed shut, the focus of everyone’s eyesight on Richard.

He looks haggard, dark circles and greasy hair indicating he hasn’t slept, at least slept well, in the last few days. His clothes, usually refined and tucked in, were loose and nearly tearing. Amidst the chattering group of people, remnants of conversations linger into your ears.

“They made the right decision, shipping him off.”

“Honestly, it was about time. A cocky brat like that needs some discipline beaten into him. I’ve heard Ivy’s Military School is ranked top in the country.”

“God knows he will need it. The boy hasn’t had class since he learned how to speak.”

The belittlement, the desperate look in Richards eye, looking for sympathy, should enthrall you. That knot of satisfaction should burst, reaping the reward of your suffering, revel in his despair.

But everything about this pitiful man terrifies you.

You nearly drop your groceries, pushing away bodies as you flee the scene, barely finding time to breathe. Your shadow has trouble keeping up with you, bending between foot steps and keeping track of your shape as you dart away, away, away.

You find solace in a dark alleyway, but peace still escapes you. Your heart and brain pound with pure adrenaline, finding purchase on a nearby wall as black spots dot your vision.

All you can see are Richard’s dirt filled fingernails, dragging across your throat, pushing you down. His knee digs into your back as you kneel on wet ground, the cold metal of a knife pressed against your neck, dangerously close to your racing pulse point.

Your shadow shifts and grows, Captain’s shape stepping out of your large shadow, taking tentative steps towards your quivering form. Your knees soon give out, sending you to the ground, but they catch you just in time. You barely feel the contrast of soft fur compared  to rough concrete, curling up into a fetal position as you try to force the images from your mind.

Captain sinks down, claws petting your back. With a small voice, they instruct you calmly.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like that, mistress.”

The simple instructions give you something to focus on, something other than your fractured mind. You instinctively curl into their chest, their warm fur brushing against your cheek as you shove your face against them. Your eyes are clenched tight and you cling onto their shoulders, chest wracked with your heaving sighs. But the deep baritone of their whispers and affirmations slowly seep into your haze, pushing out the memories.

You continue to breathe in and out, Captain’s warm hands caressing your waist as they hum lightly. They tuck their chin above yours, their hot breathes blowing across your skull.

“It is alright, ____. You can do this, you are safe. I am here for you.” They mutter.

In minutes that feel like hours, your heart rate slows down, your mind loses it’s buzz. Captain hums an unfamiliar tune as they continue to cradle you, claws drawing shapes into your back while rocking your back and forth.

When you finally feel aware, present in the moment, you wipe away the tear tracks running down your face.

“Captain?” You whisper.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Can we go home, please?”

They nod, standing with you still in your arms.

“Of course, my dear.”

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

You unload groceries automatically, muscles and spirit tired after your crying fit. Captain helps, making sure to stay in the periphery and out of sight of your parents.

You give an excuse to them, explaining that the heat got to you, and collapse onto your bed. Captain lingers in the corner, poised for a command.

“Captain?” You mutter, fingers twirling a thread tassel on one of your pillows. They look up from their position. “Thank you, for being there for me. Today and…..last time.”

They nod, taking small steps towards your bed. Once close enough, they lightly wrap one of their fingers around yours, petting your knuckles.

“Of course, ____. I will always be there for you.”

You nod, a small smile crawling its way across your lips. You slip your palm into theirs, feeling their calloused finger pads, pulling them slightly closer to your form. Your eyes dart up to theirs. With a small blush, you whisper,

“And I will always be there for you.” Captain’s eyes slightly widen, but a large grin appears, a hint of their fangs glinting from behind their black fur.

“Thank you, ____.”