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ultramagicalternate · 17 days

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ULTRAMagic Interlude: Shadowland Chapter 26

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After the delightful lunch, Gabriella and Weaver briefly retired to a lounge to let their food settle before heading out. Noticing a magazine on a coffee table, Weaver picked it up and began looking through it. “Fashion? Hum… What the? Hey, Gabriella, what’s with all these demons wearing these weird clothes?”

“Oh it’s just the current fashion trend. Rubber and synthetic fabrics are in right now. Not my cup of tea personally as I prefer clothes that breathe.”

“Jeez, none of this looks practical in the slightest…”

“They really aren’t. I’m hoping things shift towards traditional Victorian dress. I can’t get enough of that aesthetic… as you can certainly tell. Of course due to Inferno being non-linear in time, we have an ungodly amount of fashion to choose from.”

“I see. Heh, that’s not bad… So what was in before this?”

“Roaring 20s. It was probably because we had an influx of… well, um, perhaps I should spare you the details. Point is that people are fickle about what they wear and we’re very open to new ideas here in Inferno.”

Weaver continued to flip through until he got to a section that made him set the magazine down. “Good lord, that’s unheard of back home, haha.”

Gabriella chuckled. “Be careful, some of those issues tend to get a bit risque. Just as a heads up, my mom is into that kind of clothing. She loves sleek and shiny and even has a red bodysuit for the more adult centered social gatherings.”

“Yeah, I noticed some of the mannequins over there… Not going to lie, I wouldn’t mind trying some of that stuff on…”

“Truth be told, I don't hate tight and fully covering attire, I just can’t bring myself to wear it for prolonged periods of time. Mother is an arcane scientist, but she’s also a fashion designer by night. I’ve tried on some of her prototype outfits and it was fun, but not something I’d do on the regular. If you want to help her out with that stuff, feel free to let her know.”

“Arcane scientist… is that like an alchemist?”

“Yes, but her profession is a bit more broad.”

Getting back on track, Weaver had a chuckle. “How do you go from a woman of science to a fashion designer and back again like that?”

Gabriella smiled and shook her head. “That’s just who she is. I’d argue seeking satisfaction and pleasure like that runs counter to the pursuit of knowledge, but she makes it work. I cannot criticize her without acknowledging that my pursuit of knowledge puts me at risk, more so than her.”

Weaver got up to stretch. “To each their own.” Walking over to the bookshelf, he began thumbing through until he found something that interested him. “All of these look pretty eerie… what are they?”

“Oh, be careful, Weaver. A good portion of those books are more than just books if you catch my meaning. Some of them are what you would call cursed or hexed. I’m not sure how they’d affect you if you read them…”

He pulled out one that was a reflective black. It had glowing red runes all over the front cover. The pages were much the same, being quite odd to flip through. “What’s this one? It’s… it’s…” Weaver began going through the pages with fervor, his eyes widening as eldritch knowledge poured into his mind.

Gabriella noticed this and stroked the spine of the book with two fingers, causing it to quiver. She then snapped her fingers several times in front of his face. “Weaver! Can you hear me?”

“Huh? What? Oh yeah… what was that?”

She looked at the book, noticing that a black goo had formed over his hands. “Oh dear, that’s not good…” Seemingly aware, the book retracted the goo back into it. “That book is… that book is…” She noticed Valentina in the entrance way. “Mom, where did you get that book?”

“Stolon sent it to me to tinker with after his most recent assignment. It was in the depths of Miranda, appearing to be a grimoire of sorts. Mind if I ask what you two saw in it?”

“Um… something about Void magic?” Weaver replied, somewhat unsure of what he witnessed.

“How fascinating. Stolon could probably tell you more about it” Valentina pointed out. “Either way, I guess it’s yours now, Weaver. Books like that are incredibly finicky.”

“Oh, really? Well I guess so if that’s how it works…”

Xavier walked over, frowning at the book. “Yes. Now please get it out of here. It’s been flying around, causing messes all over the place…”

Valentina had a look of regret on her face. “Oh my, It has? I’m so sorry, Xavier…”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it too much. I like you guys too much to stay mad at you.”

Gabriella sighed. “Well I suppose all of this is our cue to go deliver that package then…”

“Sure,” Weaver agreed as the book vanished. It was still there, just out of the way for the time being.

Collecting what they needed, Valentina saw Weaver and Gabriella off as they left the mansion. Xavier pulled his car up to the entrance, offering to drive the two to where they needed to go. Stolon’s mansion was close, but not close enough for a reasonable walk. As they drove, Weaver noticed that they were not leaving the land exactly, just going off in another direction. Gabriella explained that in the past, King Paimon had gifted land the size of a small country to his underling, Zaem. Zaem further invited some of his friends and coworkers to come live with him, dividing the land equally amongst them.

“Wow, this Zaem sounds pretty generous,” Weaver observed.

“Indeed,” Gabriella replied. “He’s also working towards a spot on The Infernal Council of Order, seeking to succeed Paimon.”

“And I think he’s going to pull it off,” Xavier stated. “He’s finishing up his 5 year trial period soon and his record is sterling.”

Weaver got out his book and began skimming through it. “Well that’s good to hear. I hope he gets the position then.”

After some more driving, Xavier pulled up to the entrance of Stolon’s mansion. “And here we are. I’m going to head back. Give me a call if you need me to come get you for whatever reason.”

“Will do, Xavier. Thanks,” Gabriella said as she got out and shut the door.

“Thanks for the ride,” Weaver replied.

Stolon’s mansion had a more regal appearance to it, something that was apparent from the outset. Gabriella went up and rang the doorbell, which gave off a melodic series of chimes. “Hopefully Stolas is here today.”

The ornate doors opened, revealing a bulky, older gentleman with a stern look on his face. This gave way to a smile once he saw who was at the door. “Gabriella, how wonderful to see you” he welcomed in a gruff, British voice.

“Hello, Sullivan. Is Stolon home? Mom has a package for him.”

“You’re in luck, as the master arrived home not too long ago. Before anything else, however, who is this young man?”

“This is Weaver Craddock. He’s a blacksmith from Shadowland. He’s also my boyfriend.”

“Wonderful. Welcome to the house of Stolon, Mr. Craddock. Please, come on in.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sullivan,” he replied as they all went inside.

Sullivan stepped over to a phone of sorts and pressed a few buttons. He then spoke into the microphone. “Master Stolon, Gabriella has arrived with your package from Valentina.”

As the three waited in the parlor overlooking a fountain garden, Weaver started to look around. This mansion shared similarities with Valentina’s, but it felt like royals lived in this one. There were more refined paintings, heirlooms were on display here and there, and trophies were all over the place. He could tell that Stolon’s family was very prestigious and proud of their achievements. Weaver wanted to ask about some of the awards, but two children ran past before he could. Sullivan immediately went after them, ordering them to cease running in the mansion.

“Who were they?” Weaver asked.

“Forlas and Stoltur, two of Stolas’ younger brothers” Gabriella answered.

“I’ll have to apologize to Sullivan for that as it was my fault for getting them so excited, haha” an older, Irish voice said. Weaver turned to see a man with long, dark hair that trailed off into what looked like feathers. He had a face full of facial hair and dark eyes that were trained like a bird’s eyes. “Gabriella, great to have you back, lass” he stated as he straightened out his tuxedo.

“Thank you, Stolon. It’s great to be back. Things were a bit heated in The Unlight, but I had to come home for a breather.” She handed him the package. “Here you go by the way.”

“Excellent, but I’ll have to tend to this later. The missus is off in the gardens with the kids for a picnic and I need to get back to them. Before I do, who’s this gentleman?”

Gabriella smiled. “Stolon, this is Weaver Craddock, a blacksmith from Shadowland. We’ve been fighting together and, well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

Stolon promptly shook Weaver’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Weaver. Fighting the good fight against those troublemaking Proch’s, I presume?”

He nodded. “Yup. Finally got the upper hand on that rat Milosh after demolishing his dumb cult’s church.”

“Very good! Very good indeed. Truth be told, I’ve been begging Dragoslava Raynot to summon me to get a part of the action, ha. Speaking of which, Gabriella, you were in The Iron City, weren’t you? How is Drago doing?”

“Good, good. Desislav and her were all over the place last time I checked… that was about two weeks ago, but I imagine not much has changed.”

“Ah, I see. And Blood-Wraith, how is that starry-eyed lad doing?”

“Um, well, he seems to be a bit worried as of late. Worried about a lot of things…”

“Oh dear, that’s not ideal. I’ll have to make plans to go visit them then. Maybe bring them here for one of our picnics.”

Weaver nodded, then realized something. “Oh, sir? Not to jump subjects, but what is this?” He inquired as he got out his book.

Stolon took a moment, then gave a laugh. “That is a void grimoire, my boy. Looks like the one I handed off to Valentina. I’d dare say it’s chosen you as its owner.”

“I see. Well Aureolus is going to be thrilled… also can’t wait to show Dunja this. So what’s the deal behind it? In where it came from. I’ve seen this kind of stuff before, but this one is vastly different.”

Stolon cleared his throat. “Not too long ago I was tasked with dealing with a living planet from The Dark Void, or the shadow of the Cosmos. The eldritch object in question had wandered into Earth’s solar system, looking to merge with Earth itself. My team and I put a stop to it, isolating the interloper in orbit around the ice giant, Uranus. We had to implement a cover story afterwards that it was a moon called Miranda that’s always been there. Evidently the entity is female. As for that book, Pruflas was tasked with looking after Miranda and began poking around. He sent a whole bunch of those books back and tasked us with studying them…”

“Master Stolon?” Sullivan said as he stood in the parlor entrance, holding Forlas and Stoltur’s hands. “I believe these two are overdue to go outside.”

“Most certainly,” Stolon replied with another laugh. He then turned to Weaver and Gabriella. “I’ll be outside if you two need me. If you’re looking for Stolas, he’s in his room, stargazing.”

As Stolon left with his boys, Gabriella took Weaver up a winding staircase to the third floor. “Gabriella, what kind of demons are Stolon’s family?” He asked.

“Corvidae. Stolon and Stolas are ravens. Forlas and Stoltur? They’re bluejays. As for Sullivan, he’s from another family of eagle demons.”

“Neat. Are there other animal based demons out there?”

“Naturally. If you can think of it, there’s probably a demon for it.”

The third floor was a hallway with many rooms on each wall. At the end of the hallway was a door with Stolas’ name on it. The wall and door were decorated with carvings and etchings of constellations, something Stolas had requested. Gabriella knocked on the door several times and waited. She mentioned that Stolas had a habit of getting engrossed in his hobbies, so he would probably be a minute. After a little bit of waiting, the door opened with a soft creaking. The two were greeted by a slightly unkempt, youthful man with dark hair and eyes.

After rubbing his face with a cloth, the man got a good look at who was at his door. “Gabriella, is that you!?”

“Hey, Stolas…”

“Gabriella!” He exclaimed as he gave her a big, friend’s hug. “You’ve been so busy as of late. How have you’ve been?”

“Fantastic. A bit roughed up while exploring, but still fine.”

“You must tell me all about it and The Unlight, posthaste!” Stolas then looked at Weaver. “Oh Hello, who’s this?”

“Weaver Craddock, nice to meet you” he replied as he held out his hand.

“He’s a blacksmith from Shadowland I’ve been working with. He’s also my boyfriend” Gabriella explained.

“Oh…” Stolas hesitated as he looked at Weaver’s rough and calloused hand. “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Weaver. Come on in, both of you. Just, um, mind the mess. I was doing some writing and taking notes on an epiphany I had. It was a very good research session.”

The three moved around tables and stacks of books to a miniature lounge. It sat underneath a platform that held a huge telescope that stuck out of the domed roof and ceiling. Across from them was Stolas’ sleeping quarters. Weaver could tell from the sheer volume of bookshelves and scientific instruments that Stolas was a scholar. It all reminded him of Claudius’ mansion and Sten’s libraries.

“Are Zasiel and Cynassa free at the moment?” Gabriella inquired.

“No, Unfortunately. They’re off having fun at a fashion show in New Paradiso…”

“Huh, since when were they the fashion types?”

“Tanya. She even tried to rope me into it, ha.”

“Who’s Tanya?” Weaver asked.

“Zasiel’s girlfriend. She’s also another Angel native to Inferno.”

Stolas placed a stack of paper, several quills, and multiple inkwells on the lounge table. “Now Gabriella, tell me everything you can about The Unlight. Don’t worry about me, I’m ready to write.”

Gabriella chuckled. “Alright then. It’ll be quite the tale though…”

“Again, fine with me. And Weaver, don’t be shy. If you have anything you want to share, go on right ahead.”

“Oh, okay then. I’ll let Gabriella start, however.”

She took a breath. “Where do I even begin?”

Next: Chapter 27

#chaotictempleknight #ultramagic alternate #fantasy #sciencefiction #sciencefictionfantasy #literature #fiction #writing #story #writers on tumblr #chapter

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gwennafran · 2 years

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Cordelia clothing layers. (A practical Guide to Evil fanart)

Honestly, this one is all for me, and I geeked out. So, first of all, this is fantasy. I combined a lot of different historical inspirations from approximately the same century, to get the look I wanted.

This is roughly based on elements from Saxon Cranach dresses from between 1510 and 1540, as well as some Tudor and Elizabethan inspirations taken from around 1530 to 1580. The stay in particular is from the later part of the 16th century. Seeing how we know from Hakram’s excellent reading choices Procerans uses corsets – but everything else about them scream Renaissance inspiration – I figured we’d be talking early stays, that still are well within the Renaissance setting. Rather than much later Victorian corsets.

The ruffled petticoat might actually be the biggest historical deviation away from the general time period used for inspiration. They had petticoats around that century, but not with the ruffles. It just seemed so very, very Proceran. So yeah, one of biggest fantasy part in this due to being very out of time: The fluffy ruffled petticoat! Totally on par with the rest of Guide where one of the most modern parts also is the lace panties. ;)

More geeking out beneath the cut

1. Chemise and stockings. The stockings would be made from very finely knitted silk. Much more comfortable than is you sew stockings from fabric. The go above the knees and are fastened with lace garters.

Not pointed out on the image is the ratling tooth bracelet given to Cordelia by Friedrich Papenheim when she was quite young. In fact, she was so young it probably is a bit too small for her wrist now. Digging into it beneath her fancy sleeves.

2. Stays or corsets was used for quite a few centuries with very different goals. The early stays actually was not trying to give you a sexy hourglass figure. Rather the opposite, really. They worked to flatted out your chest into an – at the time extremely fashionable - cone shape. Body ideals change a lot in fashion…

3. I took a vote on Discord if Cordelia should be in white or blue. 3 voted for white. 13 for blue. And a couple of wonderfully mad souls started to argue for pastel pink to match Cat’s soon to be pastel fashion choices. These pink bows are for you lot. They may be hidden, but they’re there.

4. Lower dress and letter. Well, technically the letter from Friedrich Papenheim goes between the stay and the lower dress (called a kirtle). I figured it’d be much safer between these two pretty even and stiff layers, than if it went under the stay. Not sure what Cordelia is going to do now that she has two letters that are extremely near and dear to her. Double up on letters worn over her heart? Also, honestly Cordelia, you’re a weird and non-fashionable item short from Friedrich to form a proper rule of three.

5. Gown: If you look very closely, the bracelet is still just visible from beneath a sleeve.

6. Finishing touches: So yeah, the front part of the gown being pinned in place with needles is not something I’m making up. Someone not familiar with this style of fashion is in for a potentially pointy surprise if making a successful pass at a Proceran noble lady.

#a practical guide to evil #pgte #cordelia hasenbach #fanart #crown #fashion design #clothing design #artists on tumblr #gwennafran art

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unrestedjade · 3 years

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Baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for and that get increasingly queer-navel-gazing and self indulgent because the horrible space goblins have consumed my brain:

- Mobile ears, because if hearing is so well developed and important to them they should be able to aim those big stupid radar dishes. Also because then they can emote with them and that's cute. THE AESTHETIC IS PARAMOUNT.

- Since they canonically sharpen their teeth with chew sticks and sharpeners, their teeth must grow continuously. So I submit: subcultures that let certain teeth grow out as a fashion/political statement. Ferengi punks and anarchists with 5" tusks. Ferengi with all their teeth filed flat (mom and dad HATE it).

- Corollary to the above, most of their teeth are crooked. At the least, they don't share our fetish for straight teeth. What if their teeth are deciduous, and there's no point in trying to force them into perfect alignment, since they'll just fall out and get replaced? So like, sharks but their teeth can also grow longer with no limit. WHAT HAST EVOLUTION WROUGHT ON FERENGINAR :V

- Parents nagging their kids to sharpen their teeth "or they'll grow up into your brain and you'll die :)"

- Personal space? Don't know her.

Okay I need a cut because there's too many now. WHOLE SOCIETY OF GAY HOMOPHOBIC UNCLES AND AUNTS GO I HAVE A PROBLEM

- I can't remember who on here put forth the idea of them having retractable claws but Yes. :3

- Pushing back against the worst canon episode a bit but: relative ear size being the only obvious sexually dimorphic trait, and even that having enough of a gray area that the only way to be 100% sure you're talking to a male or female Ferengi is if you do a blood test. Unless they're intersex! *shrug emoji*

- This is why they're so fanatical about gender conformity and their Victorian "separate spheres" attitude to men and women's roles. Capitalist patriarchy is fragile! And as artificial to Ferengi as it ever was to Humans! (self-indulgenceeeee about gender shiiiiit)

- You know how with domesticated rabbits, the rabbit getting groomed and paid attention to is the boss? Yeah. Go ahead and paint your bestie's nails, just don't be surprised if she cops a little bit of an attitude with you from then on.

- Their fight/flight/freeze/fawn instincts skew heavily toward the last three, and what a lot of other species read as annoying sucking up is the Ferengi in question feeling anxious and unsafe. Especially if they don't feel integrated into the group. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order is better than not being in the flock at all.

- If they DO opt for fight, it's ugly and typically their last resort. Bites or scratches will get infected without intervention-- microbes that their immune system can handle could cause big trouble for aliens. You might wanna check for full or partial teeth that break off and get lodged in the wound, too.

- Too many of these are tooth related but I don't care. :B More teeth stuff: you know what else has teeth that grow constantly? Puffer fish. Likewise, Ferengi can chew up mollusk shells as easy as potato chips, and they need the minerals for their teeth. (Imagine grandpa Sisko offering Nog a crayfish for the first time and watching as he just...pops the whole damn thing in his mouth and crunches away...)

- Their staple foods seem to be grubs and other arthropods, high in protein and fat. I've unilaterally decided their cuisine also involves a lot of edible fungi, ferns, plant shoots and seeds. Gotta get those vitamins. Overall flavor profile leaning toward umami, vegetal, and fresh herbs, and pretty mild (or "delicate" if you wanna be snooty about it, which a Ferengi probably would let's be real).

- Not much sugary food. I'm basing this solely on Quark's aversion to root beer as "cloying". Which could definitely just be his personal preference, but most of the people I hear hating on root beer cite the actual sassafras/sarsaparilla flavor (saying it tastes like medicine) not the sweetness. Nog might be the weirdo outlier for being able to enjoy it.

- Their home planet isn't bright and sunny, so their eyes are better at discerning shades of gray in low light conditions, with relatively weak color vision. Which could explain why they dress Like That.

- Conversely, human music has a reputation for stinking on ice because a lot of it is juuuuust lightly dissonant or out of tune because we can't pick up flaws that small. Ferengi can, and it drives them up the *wall*.

- Music? So many different kinds. Traditionally, maybe lots of percussion and winds, and water as a common component of many instruments to alter pitch or tone. Polyphony out the ass. Some of the modern stuff is an impenetrable wall of sound if you're not a species with a lot of brain real estate devoted to processing sounds. Pick out one melody to follow at a time.

- Yes, back to teeth again I'm sorry. It's a sickness. At some point in their history, pre-chewing food was just something you did for your baby or great grandma as a matter of necessity. Possibly your baby gets an important boost to their immune system and gut biome from your spit. At some point takes on a more formal intimacy aspect and gradually drifted from something all adults and older kids do to something only women do. Your husband and older kids have perfectly functional teeth, but you love them, right? =_= (Think old memes about husbands being useless in the kitchen if little wifey isn't there to cook, but even more ridiculous. Ishka was right about everything but especially this. Thank you for making your family chew their own food, Ishka. Not all heroes wear capes. Or anything!)

- How did they get started on the whole men: clothed vs women: unclothed nonsense? My equally stupid idea: men just get cold easier. Those huge ears dissipate a ton of body heat. Cue Ferengi cliches like "jeez, we could be standing on the surface of the sun and my husband would put on another layer." At some point, again, this got codified and pushed to ridiculous extremes in the name of controlling women and keeping everyone in their assigned box, to the point that women just have to shiver if they really are too cold and men have to pass out from heat stroke if the alternative is going shirtless, because That Would Be Inappropriate.

- Marriages default to five years, but they're also the only avenue for women to have their own household or any stability. Plus their religion places no emphasis on purity save for pure adherence to the free market and the RoA. So, curveball to the rest of their patriarchal bullshit: female virginity isn't a concern in the least. Bring it up and they'll rightly side-eye you.

- Family law is absolutely bonkers and lawyers that specialize in it make BANK. I feel like custody would default to the father usually but oh wait, the maternal grandfather has a legal stake in this, too, and your next father-in-law is asking HOW many kids are you dragging into my daughter's house, etc etc. Growing up with a full sibling is way rarer than growing up with half or stepsiblings, since it usually takes both men and women two or three tries to find someone they vibe with. (Not love, unless you're super cringe.)

- A misogynistic society is a homophobic society. Imo those flavors of shittiness just come in pairs. Homosexual behaviors are fine within certain parameters (aka "always have sex with the boss") but not on your own terms. To add spice, bisexuality is their most common mode (because I'm bi and these are my hcs for my fics I'm not writing, so there), but capitalism demands fresh grist for the mill so you better get het-married and pop out some kids you lowly peons. You have a choice so make the proper one. :)

- Corollary to the above, that doesn't keep all kinds of illicit "we're just friends with quid-pro-quo benefits for realsies" affairs of every stripe and every gender from going on everywhere. Many Ferengi have a lightbulb moment somewhere in early adulthood when they figure out their dad's business partner or the "auntie" who visited their mom every month had a little more going on.

- Plus there's way more gender non-conformity and varying degrees of trans-ing than the powers that be have a handle on. Pel isn't unique, even if most would have to somehow make it out into space to be able to thrive.

Damn a lot of these are just my personal bugbears plus THE GILDED AGE BUT WITH HAIRLESS SPACE RODENTS ain't they

- Women can't earn profit, okay. But lending or "lending" things to each other isn't commerce, riiiiiiight? To be assigned female is to master navigating a vast, dizzying barter/gift economy. Smart boys and men leverage this, too, and there are splinter sects that view this as the purest expression of the Great Material Continuum.

- Of course plenty of women make profit anyway, and just do their bast to dodge the FCA. The tough thing about insisting on using latinum as currency is that cash can be so hard to track, you know?

- Because of the RoA, guys are discouraged from doing favors or giving gifts without setting clear expectation of getting some return on investment. This can twist into an expression of friendship (and of course women do it too), and the ledger will keep cycling between debit and credit among friends for decades. A common mistake aliens make is to tell them recompense isn't needed without explaining why, or return their favor or present with something that zeroes out the debt. The Ferengi will assume you want to break off the friendship. (I cribbed this from dim memories of an African studies course I took in 2007 and whose textbook I know I still have but I can't frigging find it...)

- Flirting, they do a lot of it for a lot of reasons. Roddenberry made it clear that they're just straight up pretty horny, but there's no reason it can't pull double duty for building alliances with other people, smoothing over feuds or disagreements, or cementing friendships. Ferengi who are ace and/or sex-repulsed are possibly viewed similar to the way we'd view someone who's "not a hugger/not big on touching" and if they flirt just don't get offended if it doesn't go any further; aro Ferengi don't garner much comment aside from an occasional "wow how badass, never falling in love with anyone."

- where to even start on making sense of the Blessed Exchequer??? Like seriously, what is this literal prosperity gospel insanity, I need to force myself to re-read Rand and like, some Milton Friedman for this shit. Help.

- fuck I'm probably going to actually do that, RIP me...

#ds9 #star trek #meta #ferengi #i love them Too Much help #reliving my brief libertarian phase from high school from the opposite direction #my heart wants to make them simultaneously as queer and as repressed as possible #i didn't even make it to the goddamned blessed exchequer my head is too full #i will find beauty in this vulgarity if it kills me #this is too long #why did i spend my time this way

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starshine583 · 3 years

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could you do A for the soul mate thing with felinette?

(Sorry it took me so long to reply! I’m still trying to keep up with my schedule for the “New Girl on the Block” fic, but rest assured that I’m totally writing all of the requests for this when I can! The next one I’m going to be working on is V for Daminette. I hope you enjoy the snippet and thank you for the ask!!)

If someone had the choice between technical immortality and certain death, it should be safe to assume that that person would accept the former. Technical immortal was the only logical option, after all. No one wanted to die. And yet, people chose death everyday. In fact, they were obsessed with it, because certain death guaranteed one thing that immortality couldn’t: a soulmate.

When a person turns eighteen, their aging process freezes due to some strange magic that scientists still can’t explain. From then on, that person will remain eighteen until they find their soulmate, specifically until they touch their soulmate directly with bare skin. Once their soulmate is found, they will begin aging as usual, as if they’d never become temporarily immortal in the first place. Some people speculate that this gives the two soulmates a chance to grow old together.

Felix, personally, believed that it gave him a chance to harbor an unlimited life span free of charge. Who needs a soulmate when you can explore all of the things in the world that are normally hindered by the aging process? There were too many things that he wanted to accomplish for him to worry about something as fickle as love or relationships.

One of those things happened to be building up the fashion empire that he had inherited.

It was hard to gain the respect that he deserved at first considering his physical appearance made him seem like a child, but once people found out that he was in his late twenties, it made things much easier. Now, three years has passed since his accepting the role of acting CEO, and the company’s success rate has been steadily rising until their profits were through the roof. He’s quite proud of it, if he’s being honest.

Felix straightened the papers on his desk and set them to the side, catching the glimpse of his golden wrist watch as he did so. The little hand pointed towards one in the morning, telling him that he’d spent another late night at the office. He didn’t mind, though. These were the things that needed to be done for his company to excel.

However, he also needed sleep for the company to excel, and this seemed like a good stopping point if ever he saw one, so Felix stood from his rolling chair to begin gathering his things to leave.

“Hey, Sir, are you up there?” A voice crackled across the intercom. Felix paused his preparations to smile at it. It was the unmistakable voice of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, his personal secretary for the last two years (and his close friend for the last year and a half). They always happened to work late on the same nights, didn’t they?

He pressed the glowing red button on the intercom. “You know I am. What do you need?”

“I’m working on another piece for a fashion show. I want your input.”

Felix chuckled. How many of her pieces had he given his input on now?

“I’ll be down there in a second.”

“You’re the best!”

Felix set his stuff back on the desk and moved towards the door to his office. He hesitated briefly when he spotted his black, leather gloves on the edge of his desk- he made a point to wear them constantly, along with a number of other pieces of clothing, so he could avoid direct skin contact with others. No sense in taking any chances -but decided to leave them alone for once. Marinette should be the only other person in the office, anyway. It wouldn’t make a difference.

He took an elevator down to the second floor, where most of his top designers worked, and walked over to the desk that had its lamp turned on. He’d know which desk was hers either way- could probably find it in his sleep at this point -but it was a nice give away.

Marinette was crouched on the floor when he got there, stabbing a needle into some material that was draped across a mannequin. Her eyes were narrowed with concentration, and her tongue was poking out of her lips as it always did when she was working hard. Felix held back a snort at the endearing sight and glanced around her desk while he waited for her to notice his presence.

When she first joined his company, she was a budding fashion designer, someone who had been gaining a bit of fame for working with Gabriel Agreste, Jagged Stone, Aubrey Bourgeois, and many other note-worthy people. Apparently, she thought it was time to build a business of her own, and therefore, applied for the job as his personal secretary in an effort to gain experience on how a business should be run before actually starting anything.

The notion admittedly impressed Felix. People rarely thought to find personal experience in running a business before actually starting one. They normally just took a class and hoped that it paid off. Someone with that kind of rational thinking was someone he knew he wanted in his company, though, so he agreed to hire her, even if she would still be working independently on personal commissions.

Now that two years had passed, she would probably be leaving any minute now to become her own boss. It might be in a week, or in a few months, perhaps even a year, but he found himself dreading it no matter how long she continued to work for him. He’d grown quite accustomed to having her in his life, be it getting lunch together or going over the morning schedule or giving each other advice on their work. The quiet moments they shared made work life a little more enjoyable and made those rare nights of loneliness from refusing a soulmate a little more tolerable too.

“Oh, Felix!”

Felix’s eyes dragged back down to Marinette, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.

“When did you get down here?”

A small smile crossed his lips. “You know how it used to be one in the morning?”

Marinette tisked, picking up on his light-hearted tone. “Oh, whatever. If you don’t want to get stuck waiting then tell me when you get here. Now, come look at this and tell me what you think.”

She stood up and moved away from the mannequin, then gestured for Felix to step closer, which he gladly obliged to do. The outfit hanging on the mannequin was a dress that appeared to have several layers and a few frills. It seemed to be made out of silk on the inside, and on the inside was another material that had an antique, flower pattern. The way the materials were sown together, though, and the things she must have added to the flower pattern, didn’t give off the impression of it being old or outdated. It was a mix between old and new that created a unique combination.

“I think it looks fine.” He said after studying it.

Marinette groaned. “Fine doesn’t help me, Felix. What does it strike you as? Stunning? Charming? Old-Fashioned? I know you have more descriptive terms than ‘fine’ in that word bank brain of yours.”

Felix laughed. “Work bank brain?”

“You know what I mean.”

He does.

“Alright, Alright.” He knelt down next to the outfit again. “Might I inquire about your purpose for this garment?”

“See, there are fancy words you use all the time.” She remarked teasingly, even though she often used the same words herself. “I’m trying to create a modern Victorian type of style for my next show.”

Felix hummed. “Can I see the sketches?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re right over here.”

The pair moved back to Marinette’s desk, and she sat down in her rolling chair to slide a paper towards him. Felix leaned towards Marinette, placing his palms on the desk for balance.

“So, if you look at- oh!” Marinette had just started explaining her original thoughts for the design, when their hands brushed against each other. She drew her hand back immediately, surprise reflecting in her bluebell eyes.

“You’re not wearing any gloves.”

“Ah.” Felix drew his hands back as well. “No, I’m not. I figured they were a waste of time tonight, since it’s only us here.”

“Oh..” Marinette said. “I don’t think I’ve ever touched your bare skin before.. N-not that I’m keeping track or anything! Wow, that sounded so weird-”

Felix, being used to her ramblings by now, only chuckled. “It’s alright. I don’t think we’ve ever touched like that either.”

In fact, he knew they hadn’t, because he does keep track of who he does and doesn’t touch with his bare skin. So far, he’s managed to maintain a low count of five or so, but he supposed adding one more to the list didn’t hurt.

“Anyway, I like the way it looks. The colors combine nicely, and I can certainly see where you’re coming from with the modern, yet old-fashioned design. I’m sure people will enjoy them, especially for costume parties.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Marinette smiled. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. I’m actually on my way out the door, but don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything else.”

“You know I won’t.”

Felix laughed and pushed himself off of the desk to begin making his way back to the elevator. “Make sure you leave soon too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.. Eventually.”

Felix threw her a playful glare over his shoulder. “I’m not kidding, Dupain-Cheng. If I see bags under those eyes tomorrow, you’re going to be fired until you get a proper night’s sleep.”

“Thank goodness for make-up then.” She joked back.

Felix rolled his eyes and bid her farewell as he entered the elevator, and her soft call of “Goodnight, Boss” managed to reach him right before the doors slid closed.

The next morning began as any other morning. Felix woke up to his blaring alarm clock, forced himself out of bed, and started the brew for his morning coffee. He then dragged himself over to the bathroom to get ready for the day, starting with his hair.

The mirror provided a picture of his sluggish figure as he combed his platinum blond locks to the side. His hair didn’t seem to care to cooperate that morning though, because his cowlick was refusing to lay aside as they were told. No matter how many times he combed over it, the chaotic locks refused to budge.

Felix huffed and leaned closer to the mirror, but before he could continue furiously coming his hair, something caught his attention.

At the front of his bangs, dangling loosely to the side of his face, was a single, grey hair.

Felix frowned, moving even closer to the mirror to get a better. It was definitely a grey hair, but why on earth would he have one? People at the age of eighteen didn’t get grey hairs, and he’d never gotten one before. The only reason he could possibly get a grey hair out of the blue like this was if-

Felix froze, his eyes blowing wide. No.. no, it couldn’t be. There’s no way he found his soulmate. It was impossible. The aging process only started when he touched them directly, skin to skin, and he’d been horribly precise not to do so with anyone under any circumstances.

Well.. anyone except..

A knock came from the front door.

Although his mind was racing for answers, Felix pulled himself together enough to throw on a robe and go answer the door.

Imagine his surprise when he found none other than Marinette standing right outside.

She looked up at him, her figure tense, and a certain anxiety painted her features. He wanted to ask what she was doing there, or why she hadn’t called to tell him that she was coming, but all he could do was stare. Perhaps it was because a part of him already knew why she’d come to visit him. She was the only person he’s touched directly in the last year, the only person who could have caused his hair to change.

Slowly, Marinette held up a strand of her hair. It was hard to make out, being a single strand, but Felix didn’t need to see it know it was grey too.

They stared at each other, both floored by the discovery, but then Felix almost had to laugh. Because of course it was her. Of course the person who he had come to know and adore and yearn to be around daily would be his soulmate. He should have known that soulmates would find each other eventually, whether they had “Soulmate Magic” to guide them or not.

Before he could say anything, Marinette let out a grieved sigh and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, Felix, I.. I’m so sorry!”

For a moment, Felix stalled, and worry started to set in. She’s sorry? Why would she be sorry?

“What do you mean?”

Marinette looked up from her hands. “I know you didn’t want to find your soulmate and start aging. I should have noticed your ungloved and been more careful, but I just wasn’t thinking, and-”

Felix blinked as she continued rambling. This girl was apologizing to him because she accidentally found out that they were soulmates. She wasn’t thinking about how much she’d wanted to find her soulmate- because he knew that she did -or that she would have gone without a soulmate for the rest of her life had she not made the discovery. No, she was thinking about him and what he had wanted, just as she always did.

“Marinette.” He said, taking her by the shoulders. “Marinette, stop.”

The ravenette paused, glancing up at him with her beautiful, concerned eyes, and he felt himself smile.

“If anyone had to be stuck as my soulmate.. I can’t express how delighted I am that it’s you.”

A wonderful blush tinted her cheeks. “R-Really? But I thought- what about being immortal?”

Felix chuckled, and he reached out to cup her cheek. “Immortality’s a small price to pay to have you.. if you’ll have me too, that is.”

Marinette exhaled, looking completely baffled, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Yes.” She breathed, a shining smile coming to her features. “Yes, of course I’ll have you.”

Felix couldn’t help grinning as well, and as he pressed another kiss to her lips, he wondered how it could have taken him so long to realize what the soulmate magic was really all about. It wasn’t a choice between immortality or death, but rather a choice between immortality and life. All of the things he’d been searching for- fame, fortune, glory -and the experiences he’d been chasing meant nothing without Marinette by his side. She was the one who made him feel truly alive, and he never wanted to live without her again.

(Send me a letter and I’ll write a thing!)

#asks #Felinette #Soulmate AUs

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elisabeth515 · 3 years

Text

So the new book is out

And I just-

Well, honestly, the dresses looked less monstrous than Gotham Memoirs, but here are some notes that I made when looking at them:

1. My guess on the period of the story is around the bustle eras (either one, though I am leaning towards 1880s because quite a lot of them looked like it’s from second bustle era), since it’s a pretty gothic-ish story and you know when they are set stereotypically. However, I found the set designs extremely unforgiving and unflattering (I am very tempted to use the term “ugly” to be honest).

This is probably the most accurate one, seemingly based on some dresses from the Second Empire... the attempted-Bertha looked terrible tho. (Here’s the famous painting of Empress Eugénie and her ladies-in waiting by Franz Xaver Winterhalter for a comparison)

Edit: I really should have used a fashion plate from the UK for comparisons but well—somehow European fashion at that time are pretty similar so I hope you guys can get the idea.

Supposedly, the story was set in around 1870s to 1880s, and people have already ditched the hoop skirts (for a lot of reasons including safety concerns such as catching fire accidentally), so why are you making her wearing a freaking crinoline dress???? The set looked accurate but it’s just very out of context honestly.

This is what she would have worn in the evening. (1884 fashion plate I found on the internet)

And now we got sets ranging from the first bustle era to the second bustle era... honestly if I did not look up the actual fashion plates and read some articles by dress historians, I would have just turned a blind eye somehow. I am NOT going to judge the hats here because they looked a bit “ew” (ngl that tall hat looked straight from “Queen Marie”—basically incroyable), yet, they all looked a bit weird to be frank. I’m going to just let you spot them because I want to move onto point number 2.

2. These AliExpress monstrosities.

Like seriously, are Rococo and 1870s that hard to distinguish???? The dresses shown here are literally something that can be found on Amazon and AliExpress. Yeah, I guess they wanna go on for the Steampunk or Gothic aesthetic but they looked very cheap to be honest.

One thing I noticed is that some of the dresses looked a bit eliptical rather than circular, despite the fact that she is wearing a corset which is accurate to the era of the story. I am really questioning the set designer’s sanity somehow.

3. Also, are you doing Steampunk, Gothic or Lolita? Idk, the game developers just simply putting everything that is considered “Victorian” in it.

Like why-

Those torturing H E E L S and that bonnet-

Is this girl a time traveller????

It looks like she’s from the modern times because she is literally wearing Lolita fashion which was from 1970s Japan-

I would have put more of the pictures if there isn’t the 10 picture limit for Tumblr. But I guess you guys get it.

Overall, I am giving 2 out of 5 for the sets—kudos for some tiny effort on research but the mix-matches are really uncomfortable to me (like why that gibson tuck with that big incroyable hat?????). I rather watch Enola Holmes at this point, at least Sherlock has that Gyula Andrássy romantic side-parting hairstyle lol

#day n of waiting for a Chinese story in this game #dress up! time princess #du!tp #dress up time princess #dutp #I need a drink #and probably a Franz Joseph body pillow #Victorian fashion????????

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bookwermthings · 3 years

Note

28 “Stand behind me” with Jack and Gwen or Jack and Owen

“Stand behind me.”

“Really, Jack, I can handle myself.”

“I mean it. They have issues with me, as long as you stay out of their way, you’ll be fine.”

One of the strict looking ladies, looking like she was dressed for Victorian England, glanced their way. And then she didn’t stop. She stared at them, first at Jack, then at Owen, with a horrifying lack of emotion. Just vague interest. A smile flitted across her lips.

Then the other one stopped surveying her surroundings. She walked over, joining the brunette in looking at them.

Owen, still not standing behind Jack, noticed as Jack began to smile at them. It was a smile carefully crafted, so as not to show anything, worn by decades of practice.

“Hello, ladies. I see you’re in the wrong time.”

“Yes, we’d noticed. Although, strangely, you’re still here.”

Careful smile still in place, Jack said, “Yes, yes I am.”

Owen couldn’t stand to the side and do nothing any longer. “Hold on, who are you?”

They looked at him curiously.

The blond one answered. “Torchwood.”

“You are? What year?”

"What business is it of yours?"

"*I'm* Torchwood. Right here, right now."

They looked him over. The other one spoke. "You don't look it."

That was rude. He was every bit Torchwood as they were, if not more.

"Well, I am. Did the Rift spit you out?"

"Apparently so... I suppose it couldn't hurt to answer your question. I am Alice Guppy, and this is Emily Holroyd. We just came from 1903, where Harkness here was having a rather fun time with some Weevils." Her teeth were like a shark's. "What year is this?"

"2008."

Alice nodded, satisfied. Then she continued,looking at Jack, "I see we must have beat some loyalty into you at some point, then."

Hold on, they beat him?

Owen was about to open his mouth, to say what, he didn't know, but Jack got there first.

"I don't think it had anything to do with you. Now, do you have a plan to get back?"

“I’d rather like to speak to the Torchwood head at the moment. I’m sure things will go much easier if we could just speak to them and not the underlings.”

“I’m sorry, if you’re looking for the head of Torchwood, that would be me.”

Alice looked like she was about to spit fire. “Who let you be in charge?”

“Well, when you’ve been around as long as I have…”

“The incompetent bastards. They should have known to set up protocols in case this happened.”

“We could set them ourselves,” said Emily.

“And create a paradox? No, we’ll just have to do what we can before we find our way back and hope it sticks.”

"I'm right here, you know." Jack spoke, an exasperated undercurrent running through his words.

Ignoring him, they spoke to Owen.

“Have you learned how to track the movements of the Rift by this point?” Emily asked. “We believe there may be a Rift sighting sometime soon connecting to two days before we left.”

Owen found these women strange and frankly very rude, possibly even abusive, the more he was around them. They treated Jack like he was worth less than the dirt on their shoes, and barely treated Owen any better.

He grimaced. These were Torchwood operatives, no matter how strange they were or how much he wanted to punch them.

“Yes, we can track and predict Rift spikes. I’ll have Tosh get on finding you one that might get you home.”

Alice tutted. “We’ll come back with you, in your vehicle, and oversee the process. I can’t imagine how low Torchwood must have fallen under Harkness’ leadership.”

Jack visibly gritted his teeth, and held his hands together behind his back.

“This way, then.”

As he strode back to the SUV, Owen swore he could see Jack’s shoulders shaking.

The two Victorian era Torchwood women looked over everything in the Hub. They peered over Tosh’s shoulder as she sorted through predicted Rift activity, ordered Owen and Ianto around, and stared curiously at Gwen. They showed their intense hatred for Jack being the leader of Torchwood anytime it came up, and multiple times it didn’t. For the most part, Owen tried to ignore them. They were going to be gone soon enough, and he didn’t want them holding a grudge against him, no matter if they were stuck in the 1900s or not. They seemed like they would know how to get him back even if he was across the galaxy, two million years in the future. But crossing them was still so very tempting. For all that Owen bitched about having Jack as a boss, he was good at it. He didn’t deserve to be talked down to or talked about like this.

Then it was time for dinner.

Owen, as always since he had died, simply sat there and talked with the others. But to Alice, this was apparently suspicious.

“Don’t you people eat in 2008?”

Owen just had to snark,”Well, typically we do, but I’m trying to turn inside out with hunger pains.”

At their unmoved glances, he ran a hand through his hair. “No, I’m dead.”

Now this got their attention.

Emily had a gleam in her eye. “Dead? In what fashion?”

“I’d show you, but I doubt you’d want to see. I have a bullet hole in my chest. My heart is stopped. I don’t need to breathe. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat, I can’t heal. I’m certifiably dead. One of the artifacts we have brought me back, and now I’m stuck this way.”

“Interesting.”

Later, he found them staring at him and whispering. It sent shivers down his spine. He was glad in the end, that Emily looked disappointed. They wouldn’t be taking him into any labs and experimenting on him. Not today.

Fortunately, they found a Rift spike within a day of them arriving here. Alice and Emily went through it and he didn’t look back. Owen didn’t care if it was luck, or what. He was just glad they were gone.

What the hell had they done to Jack, so far in the past, that he was scared of them even now? They were gone, and he was still shaking.

Jack had hidden in his office for most of the time that they were here, only coming out when it was absolutely necessary. Owen had no idea how he was taking it.

But now? He and Jack were the only ones who had met Alice and Emily, and they had taken it upon themselves to be the ones to make sure they left. Now they were in an alleyway somewhere at the west end of Cardiff, and Jack was…?

Jack was slid to the ground against the brick wall, sobbing.

Owen walked over to him awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“Jack? Jack, what’s wrong?”

“S-sorry, don’t mind me. Just go back without me.”

“You know I’m not doing that. Was it Alice?”

Jack continued to sob, and Owen crouched down beside him.

This was such a new situation. He’d never seen Jack cry like this, so open and vulnerably.

“Jack, it’s alright. They’re gone now.”

Jack looked him in the eyes. “No, they’re not. Every day I spent with them, every death I suffered at their hands, every nightmare I’ve ever had, that’s what they are. They’re not gone. When they died, I thought I was free of them. But then, they pop up here, a century. They could do it again. I’ll never be free.”

“Oh, Jack.” Owen sat next to him on the brick wall. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was so bad for you, being around them.” At Jack’s incredulous look, he continued , “I don’t know… think of the odds. I know, probably not helpful for an irrational fear like this, but how likely is it that they will find another piece of the Rift that takes them to exactly when and where you are?”

“Yeah, not helping.” He sniffed, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’ve been through a lot. It’s not going to all go away just because you try not to think about it.”

More tears slid down Jack’s face.

“That doesn’t stop me from wanting it to work that way.”

“No. It doesn’t. I have to ask though, have you ever thought of hiring a Torchwood therapist? I mean, it’s basically one of the requirements to be fucked up in the head.”

“Maybe someday.” Owen took this to mean probably never. It was worth a shot.

Jack was practically curled up in on himself at this point.

He was still shaking.

The memories must be hard. And Alice and Emily showing up? No wonder he hadn’t broken down like this hours ago.

Carefully, Owen laid an arm over Jack’s shoulders.

“It’s alright. They’re not here right now. It’s just me. Just me.”

It may not have been alright, but he was there, and damned if he wasn’t going to do something about Jack hurting.

Slowly, Jack relaxed into the touch, and the shaking slowed. Owen pulled him the rest of the way into the embrace, and rocked with him. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Thank you.”

#torchwood #jack harkness #ianto jones #janto #my fanworks #my fanwork #my fanfic #my answers

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petitelepus · 3 years

Text

25 Days of MTMTE Christmas, Part 25, Christmas Sweater

It’s Christmas Eve on Lost Light and everyone is all dressed up.

Merry Christmas everyone! I understand that this has been a hectic year and there are people who can’t celebrate Christmas like they would like to because of the Coronavirus so I hope that ‘25 Days of MTMTE Christmas’ has been lightening your dark nights and made you smile even the tiniest bit.

I want to thank my beloved friend @missykitty! She read every single chapter and edited them, gave me inspiration, corrected my spelling and choice of words because English isn’t my first language or even second. She made this story possible.

I want to also thank you all for reading and enjoying my stories. I write to bring joy to people and I have been extra diligent this year. I wish you all Merry Christmas and thank you for being so strong.

You loved the holidays! You always had. Christmas was the time of joy and celebration with loved ones. The exact things that you were missing from Earth. Here in space, in a whole other galaxy, you had found a new family. Your found family made sure that you had everything you ever needed or desired, and you loved them back with your whole heart. But none of them celebrated Christmas, so you felt lonesome and nostalgic for your Christmas traditions. You rode your hover scooter through the empty halls before arriving at the mess hall for dinner. It was a bit depressing that your Christmas dinner would be the same as any other day. You were shocked out of your thoughts when you realized that the mess hall was deserted. Where was everyone? You looked around in confusion. Usually, the hall would be filled with hungry Autobots around the clock, but now the place looked abandoned. You felt even more depressed at the thought of eating your Christmas dinner all alone. You despondently made your way to your usual spot. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a handwritten note on the table. 'Come to the meeting room!' They didn’t forget about you after all! Aww, how sweet they were. You were curious about what they had planned for today. You couldn't help but smile excitedly as you picked up the note and left to go where you were instructed. You arrived at the door. You could hear voices coming from inside. Was everyone there just waiting for you? You smiled to yourself. You left your scooter at the side of the door, and pressed the buzzer. The voices inside halted instantly. You put in the code and entered. You were surprised to see that it was pitch black in the room. You clapped your hands to activate the lights. What you saw took your breath away. "Merry Christmas!" Everybody cheered. You were stunned at the sight. You were expecting to see your Cybertronian friends, but instead the room was filled with humans. Humans you didn't know. You weren't that good with people back on Earth, so just how bad you were going to be with them in space? You were about to bolt, but this short stocky man approached you. He was wearing blue shield-style sunglasses. Oh God, he had a Christmas sweater on. A bright red sweater that read 'He Sees You When You're Drinking' in white bold letters. You stared at his sweater. You absolutely adored so-called ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’. You didn't even know why for sure, but they were funny and quirky. You made it a tradition to check secondhand stores for rejected Christmas sweaters. When you were younger, you were teased for wearing them. Then they became popular, and even your former bullies started wearing them to ‘Ugly Christmas Sweater’ parties. You were annoyed about that, but at least now you could share your love of tacky things with others. "Hi, yes, we are happy you made it!" The man said happily in a voice you knew. You blinked. "Swerve, is that you?" "Yeah, it's me! Everyone is here also!" He said happily. He stepped closer to you. "It was mine and Rewind's idea to use our human avatars to make you feel at home. How do you like it?" Well, you were speechless and taken aback at how sweet their intentions were. You smiled and were about to answer the bartender, but then your eyes landed on him. "OhmyGod!OhmyGod! Oh! My! God!" You squealed. You quickly covered your mouth when you realized just how loud you were being. "I can't, I just can't...!" "What?? What is it?!" Swerve asked in a panic, fearing that he and others had messed up somehow and offended you. But you didn't respond. You ran straight to this tall woman wearing a beautiful purple Victorian-style dress. But it wasn't her you were squealing for. It was a toddler wearing a blue polar bear sweater with an actual crystal blue pacifier clipped to the material. The little guy even had blue sunglasses similar to Swerve’s. "E-Excuse me, Ma’am, bu-but could I hold your baby?" You asked barely keeping your composure as you looked at the little guy. The woman smiled slightly, and… Oh no, she was hot. She lifted the toddler out of the baby carrier on her chest, and offered him to you. "Hold him carefully,” she said.

You nodded as you took the toddler from her arms and pulled him close.

"Oh my God, you're so cute! Where have you been hiding all my life, you little cutie pie?"

Okay, you were totally baby-talking to the cutest child you may have ever seen. Your voice had probably raised an octave, and you weren’t worried about controlling the volume of your voice anymore. Maybe you sounded ridiculous, but your heart was mush and you had no shame.

"I'm not a baby, or whatever it is!" The child suddenly exclaimed. You blinked in surprise. You looked at the child carefully, and saw a light blue ‘T’ on the child's adorable sailor hat. And that voice...!

"Tailgate? Is that you?" You asked.

The child nodded. "Yes!"

"Oh, Tailgate..." You sighed in joyful surprise. Then you smiled even wider before hugging the mini-human. "You're so freaking cute!"

"Nooo…! I'm ferocious!" Tailgate cried.

You turned to look at the tall woman that had been holding Tailgate before. "Cyclonus?"

"That would be me,” she, no, he said. "You look amazing,” you said. "Thank you." You gave Tailgate back to Cyclonus, then turned to gaze at the rest of the holoforms mingling in the room. One by one, you recognized familiar features in these human forms. You jumped over to a tall young man, with a dark flame tattooed arm, wild auburn hair, and a handsome smile. He was wearing a short-sleeved sweater that read 'You Can Get On My Naughty List Anytime'. You grinned. "Rodimus! You look great! Very hot!" You joked, winking at him. "I know.” You giggled as Rodimus licked the tip of his digit and then pressed it to his hip, making a hissing noise. You turned to see a young lady wearing a dark blue sweater with so much text on it that you had to squint to see what was written there. 'Santa Saw Your Facebook Pictures, You're Getting Clothes And A Bible For Christmas'. Ouch. Only one mech would approve of a shirt like that. "Ultra Magnus, sir? Is that you?" You asked. The woman holoform nodded. You grinned and pointed at his sweater. "That sweater looks good on you." "Thank you. Although, I have no clue what this ‘Facebook’ is. I presume that it's a device or program that keeps records of criminals and persons of interest. That sounds like a good idea to me." You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. Instead, you clapped. "Wonderful sweater. Truly." You moved on to the next mech and--Oh! Who was this big silver fox standing before you, tall and proud in a sweater that had 'Naughty' and 'Nice' with checkboxes in front of each… but the checkbox in front of 'I Tried' was the one that was check-marked. You barely paid any attention to the text, rather watching how the sweater was stretched across his broad chest and muscled biceps... "It's Megatron,” Rodimus butted in from behind you. You nodded mindlessly, almost in a trance as you ogled the former criminal. DAMN! IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL TO BE THAT SEXY. The old man sighed, misinterpreting your look. "I was persuaded to use my avatar, and get some kind of ugly clothing that humans wear." "Megatron...! Wow…” you said, blinking like a deer in headlights. "Like WOW." "Yeah, yeah, we get it. So he is handsome for a human! So what!" Someone yelled. You glanced over your shoulder, and saw the most badass looking teen girl you had ever seen. She had long blue hair in pigtails, and an eyepatch over the left eye... "Whirl?!" You accidentally shouted. The girl, no, Whirl stopped pushing you away from Megatron. He struck a pose to show off to you. "Yeah, it is I, fleshie. Admit it - I look badass,” he said. You took in his dark blue sweater that read: 'Dear Santa, Define Naughty'. "I had spiked knee guards also, but Magnus said they were too much,” Whirl complained. You snorted. "What a tragedy." Whirl said some colorful words to you, but you laughed it off. You turned away, and came face-to-face with two men, one tall and dark-haired, and the other short and blond. You blinked and tilted your head, wondering who they could be. Then you noticed the camera in the blond man's hands. "Rewind! And Chromedome!" You exclaimed. They smiled at you in response. "How did you figure it out?" Chromedome asked. "Rewind's camera. Also, your matching sweaters." You laughed and pointed at their sweaters. Chromedome's said 'World's Okayest Elf' and Rewind's read 'I'm Not Short I'm Just A Tall Elf'. You smiled at them before moving through the crowd again, until you saw a man with glasses and carrot-red hair. He was certainly smart looking. You knew a few smart mechs, but you were sure you knew which one this was. "Rung! You look amazing!" The distinguished-looking man before you smiled and confirmed your guess to be right. Honestly? You would tap that ass. His sweater read: 'Santa Loves A Hot Cookie'. You giggled lightly. Then you noticed two smokin’ hot ladies that you recognized as Nautica and Velocity, and two hot men talking with them, likely Brainstorm and Perceptor. Nautica's sweater was bright purple and read: 'But First Let Me Take An #elfie'. Velocity's had a cat on it and read: 'Happy Hannukkat'. Brainstorm’s read: 'Santa Is Real In At Least 370 Alternate Realities'. And Perceptor...! Oh, Percy must have lost a bet or something, because he had a sweater that read: 'I Am Your Present', and there was an arrow that happened to be pointing at Brainstorm at any given moment. Finally, the last pair. You smiled when you saw them. Drift was a handsome young man with ink black hair. Ratchet was a scruffy-bearded man whose hair and beard were red streaked with white. Drift was wearing a sweater that said: 'While You Were Decorating The House I Studied The Blade'. Ratchet's sweater had a huge picture of Grumpy Cat that simply said 'NO'. You slowly made your way through the crowded room, making sure to say hello to everybot present. Besides being polite, you just had to check out all of the ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’. They were all amazing! You had never seen so many ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’ in one place! More than that, they all had been thinking about you, and how you might be missing human company. Just seeing them all gathered together made you feel like you were back on Earth for Christmas, surrounded by family and friends. You nearly cried at the thought. "Um, can I have everyone's attention?" You said, trying to raise your voice loud enough to fill the room. Every bot in a human disguise turned to look at you. You coughed awkwardly into your fist, then smiled tremulously, trying not to cry. "I just wanted to thank you all. For the amazing surprise. I love all of your sweaters – you all look great. You all are like a family to me, and I hope you feel the same way." Everyone cheered loudly. You blushed in embarrassment, but then Swerve rushed up to you, with Rung following closely behind in a more subdued manner. You smiled at both of them. "Thank you so much, you guys. I couldn't dream of a better surprise." "Oh, but this is just the beginning," Rung said with a mysterious smile. You blinked in confusion. "What?" "We just needed to buy some time while Lug and Anode finished at my place!" Swerve said. Lug and Anode…! You hadn’t seen them here at all! How could you have forgotten them?! Then Swerve took your hand in his to lead you to the next surprise. Everyone followed behind, laughing and whispering behind your back. When you entered Swerve’s, you could barely believe what you saw. Christmas decorations everywhere, gleaming and shining! You could even smell something delicious wafting in the air. "Don't tell me you cooked?" You asked in shocked disbelief. Just as you finished speaking, Lug and Anode came from the bar's backroom with their servos holding trays heaped with different Earth foods traditional for Christmas. There were also energon treats for your Cybertronian friends. Just when you were sure the party couldn't get any better, somebody put Christmas music on to play. You turned to look at the bots standing all around you. "Is it-Is it okay to eat?" Everyone gave you a clear go-ahead, so you began to take helpings of everything so as not to disappoint any of your friends that had worked so hard. Surprisingly, they had nailed it for most of the foods. Though the cranberry sauce was accidentally made with cherries, and the chocolate mousse was too sweet, they were still delicious. When you couldn’t eat any more, you thought that the good time would end there… but you thought wrong. Somehow Swerve had gotten his servos on the Cybertronian equivalent of a karaoke machine. Brainstorm and Perceptor had its files updated with all of the top hits from Earth. There were over 1,000 songs per country, so you had an overwhelming number of options. Some Christmas songs, both classic and new, were included as well. To start, Rodimus rocked the song 'The Phoenix' by Fall Out Boy. With that magnificent show of talent, charisma, and showmanship, others were then itching to get a turn of their own. Nautica, Velocity, and Rewind sang 'Bubblegum Bitch' together. Ultra Magnus sang 'It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas'. You insisted on singing a song called 'Do It For Her/Him' from Steven Universe with Cyclonus. The purple mech thought it was silly to sing a song from a human cartoon, but when he sang, he gave Tailgate meaningful looks. And you? You might have winked Megatron's way a couple of times. You were really enjoying yourself - the party was amazing. It was everything that you could have hoped for. Nothing could top this. Or so you thought, until you were asked to close your eyes and hold your arms out. "Guys, you aren't going to prank me, or do anything to me that will end up on Youtube??" You asked nervously. You heard a snicker from Rewind. "Don't worry! We won't!" "I can hear that camera rolling, Rewind!" You snapped. You jumped when something was placed in your hands. "Open your eyes." You opened one eye at first, then the other. You couldn't believe it. It was a sweater, unbelievingly soft, knitted in your favorite colors. Even better, in the middle of the oversized sweater was a large red Autobot symbol. You stared at it, eyes wide. When you finally raised your head, you had tears in your eyes. "Y-You're giving this to me?" "We had to pull some strings, and call in some favors, but yes." Rodimus smiled as bright as the sun from back home. "You're officially an Autobot now." You couldn't hold back your tears anymore. There was no greater honor than to be admitted to the Autobot order. You started to cry, but the tears were those of pure joy. You sniffled and wiped your face before looking at your dear friends. "C-Can I put it on?" They nodded, and you wasted no time. You pulled the sweater over your head, and then smoothed down your hair. The sweater was a few sizes bigger than your usual size, but that only made it comfier. You smiled, and almost wiped your nose on the sleeve, but you stopped yourself and instead used a napkin. "It's both the ugliest pretty sweater and the prettiest ugly sweater I have ever seen. I love it,” you admitted, your voice wobbly. Your fellow Autobots all said ‘Awww!’ at your emotional display. You opened your arms wide and waiting, and the bots got the idea. They all closed in for a group hug, lifting you off of your feet. You were surrounded by those you loved dearly, and you didn’t regret leaving Earth for a second. "Merry Christmas!" You all cheered, echoing each other.

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ziaxkawaii · 3 years

Text

Worth more than some perceive (Victorian!Todoroki X F!Reader) Part 3!

Part 1 Here! Part 2 Here!

~”You’ve got another one.” Your brother announced as he came into the back room, holding another white rose in his hands along with a card tied to it with the brown string.

~You stopped writing in your planner to first look at your brother and then at the rose. You got up.

~”I’ll go and put it in the vase, thank you.” You took the rose from him and carefully untied the string from the stem and threw it into a box on the table that had numerous pieces of the same type of string from the previous roses. It would be a waste of a perfectly good string if you threw them away.

~You went to put the rose into the vase, but then you realized that you should probably change the water in it as the other roses looked a bit whithered. You picked up the vase and brought it to the back to change the water.

~As you poured the water out, the old question resurfaced and you got curious. This has been going on for awhile, and at this point you’re not sure how you should be feeling about this anymore. Should you feel flattered or should you finally open your eyes and start to worry?

~You weren’t sure since you still don’t feel threatened or that you’re being watched, nor has William.

~”What do you make of this, William?” You questioned.

~”The roses? I’m honestly kind of vary of them, or at least the person leaving them.” He answered

~”I’m starting to doubt that these are not gifts of appreciation.”

~”Yeah, there must be a deeper meaning behind them.”

~You placed the roses in the freshly changed water and walked back out to put it back on the side table. Fixed the roses to look a bit nicer and then nodded in approval, ready to start yet another day.

~”But are you exactly worried?”

~”Not really since nothing else has happened yet, but I’m keeping my guard up. You can never be too careful.” You nodded at his response.

~”You’re right.” You agreed.

~Not long after you finished your sentence, a ding sounded through the air, signaling a customer has stepped into the boutique. You turned and immediately whatever worried thoughts you had previously washed away as you recognized the dual-hair-colored male. Seems like he has memorized the time you open the store, down to the minute.

~”Welcome back Todoroki!” You greeted Shoto.

~”How are you feeling this fine morning?” William joined your greeting. Then noticing he came alone this time. “Oh, roaming around alone today?”

~”I’m quite well, thank you. And yes. My butler has quite a lot of duties today, so I let him attend to them instead of coming here with me.” You both nodded in his direction. William nudged you on your arm.

~”Well, I’ll let you handle this one, I’ve got other work to do.” William called as he walked towards the backroom to finally start completing orders. You called him a quick goodbye and then turned to the other male in the room.

~”Well, how can I help you today? Last time you mentioned something about another commission?” You recalled his words from a week ago.

~”You are correct, so I’ll just get straight to the point.” You listened to what he had to say.

~”I would like for you to make a dress for my partner that will be attending the ball with me.” He said and your eyes widened from the request. Not only because he was ordering a dress without this partner of his, but also from the uncomfortable and unknown feeling growing in your chest.

~”I didn’t know you had a significant other.” You commented while trying to sound normal.

~”I don’t.” He said.

~”You don’t?” You lifted your eyebrow confused.

~”I’ll explain.” He breathed as though he was encouraging himself. “It might not seem like it at first glance, but the underlying purpose of this particular ball is for nobles to try and get their children to talk to other nobles' children, in hopes that the pair would get married.” He explained.

~”As the son of the steam train factory owner and founder, avoiding these balls are not an option. With the facts mentioned above, I’m bound to get many entitled women's attention if I come alone.” You started to understand where he was going with this.

~”To prevent this, I’m going to attend with a partner so I can avoid most of the excess attention.”

~You listened to him with interest but also you felt a bit bad for him, him having to go to such lengths to just be in peace.

~As a child, you’ve always heard wonderful stories about extravagant balls and how they are for the rich to have fun, but as you got older you started to realize that those seemingly magical balls actually had more purposes to them than to just have fun.

~They were also the perfect place to snag yourself a husband or a wife if one was still unmarried, or a woman’s father would pick a husband for their daughter if he saw someone suitable.

~”I see. So I’m going to take a wild guess and bet that your partner doesn’t have a dress that would match your very attention-grabbing suit?” You’ve been in these situations more often than you could count, so you had a hunch why he came here.

~”It would be better if I and my acquaintance would wear similarly styled clothing.” You nodded along to his words. Agreeing that it would look kind of odd if his partner had a completely differently styled and colored dress than him.

~Of course it wasn’t uncommon for a pair to not match ‘at all’, but the ball Shoto described he was going to, indicated to you that the pairs should at least wear something matching, be it the pattern of the fabric, style of the clothing or accessories.

~”Of course, I’m sure I’ll be able to make a dress for your partner in a couple of weeks. Do you happen to know her favorite style of dress or her size? Then again It would be even better if they could come to the boutique and tell me themselves.”

~You hated the feeling in your gut, the fact that you felt slight jealousy towards the unknown person who would have the pleasure to spend time with someone like Shoto Todoroki. Not because he was rich and handsome, but because he was genuinely polite and kind. He treated the noble and not-so-well off the same because he saw them all as people.

~You shouldn’t feel this way. It’s none of your business who he’s going to be dancing with. You’re just his tailor, nothing more.

~”Actually, I have not asked them yet.” He said pretty stoically but you could catch a hint of nervousness and embarrassment. You stood there for a moment, going over his words a few times until you found your voice again.

~”...You want me to make a dress for a woman,... who isn’t even aware that they’re going to a ball with you?...” You inquired, speaking every word clearly in case you’ve somehow heard him wrong and he would correct you.

~Again, it’s not uncommon for people, most commonly men, to buy their partners dresses as a surprise. But those dresses were cheap summer dresses that were only slightly modified to the receiver’s liking, not perfectly fitted and sewn gowns that cost more than someone's whole month's rent!

~”Yes.” He confirmed. “You see, every time I attempt to build up the courage to ask them, I shy away like a small child behind their mother's dress.” He explained a bit bashfully. So that was the case, huh. “And the ball is only a short while away, so if we start the dressmaking process any later, it might be too much work on your end.” You silently appreciated his thoughtfulness.

~It was kind of hard to believe. Shoto, a very stoic man with power and good looks, felt nervous asking a woman to attend a ball with him. Then again, everyone had insecurities about literally anything one could imagine, he was no different you supposed so you had no right to judge.

~”I’m sure they would love to attend the ball with you. If they know you the same way as I do, I’m sure they’ll accept the invitation from someone as kind as you.” You reassured him, pushing down the feeling in your gut and focusing on helping, dare you say, your friend. He deserved it.

~He give you one of his rare smiles that made your heart melt for some unknown reason.

~”Thank you for the advice.” He bowed his head to you slightly. You shook your head.

~”No need to thank me.” You said with a smile. “Anyway, would you like to discuss more about this dress that you’re ordering?”

~”Yes.” He answered simply.

~”Alright, what kind of dress do you think she would like? Any references you can think of she might find appealing?” You asked, bringing out your trusty notebook.

~”I do not know what she would like.” He boldly said and you sweatdropped. This is going to be very hard…

~”Do you know her measurements?” You tried again but he just shook his head.

~”Not an exact number.” He said a little bashfully, it was improper for a gentleman to talk about a lady’s size.

~”Y-You must at least know something, I can’t do a dress with little to no information! I need references here!” You said half-panicky. This was already stressing you out and you have barely even begun.

~How are you supposed to make a dress not knowing what the receiver wants? What if they don’t like the color or the style? Or what if the gown is too small, too big or the hem is too long? So many things can go so wrong here, it’s not even amusing!

~Just as your soul was about to leave your body, Shoto brought back your attention.

~”May I look at you for a moment?” He asked. You blushed slightly from the bold request.

~”S-Sure, but may I ask why?” You asked in return and he gestured for you to come from behind the counter. You walked to the front and stood in front of him and he started to eye you up and down. You felt slightly nervous under his gaze as he circled around you and compared your height to his, but you kept your unmoving stance. After a moment, he nodded.

~”Yes, your measurements are going to be perfect.” He announced and you took a double-take. Is this man serious?

~”Are you certain!? You want me to use my measurements for the dress?”

~”The measurements will do, you are the same height and size.” You almost wanted to tell him to reconsider so he wouldn’t be making a big mistake, but you figured he wouldn’t be changing his mind, so you relented.

~”If you say so. Then how about the style?” You inquired again, in hopes that he would now have something in mind, but you had a feeling he didn’t.

~”As I said, I know next to nothing about style.” He reminded you calmly and you thought for a second when you came up with a solution.

~”How about I show you different styled dresses and then you can see if one of them catches your eye?”

~”We can do that.” He agreed.

~You asked if he was fine with coming to the backroom to look and he said he was fine with it. You said quick hi to your brother as you entered the room and brought Shoto to a clothing rack full of finished gowns that you have not yet mailed or given to the customers that ordered them. You skimmed through them and each time you explained to him what style it was and the price, which he didn’t seem to be too concerned about.

~”All of them are good in my opinion, I think I should just leave all the designing to you.” He spoke and you started to sweat again from anxiety. He can’t possibly be dumping this on you.

~This wasn’t a discussion about his suit. Shoto had little references or wishes when he ordered his clothes, so it was fine for you to design them for him.

~Right now you are discussing about a dress that a woman was going to be wearing to a ball, and women tend to be very selective about what they wear even to the market. So you are basically screwed in this situation.

~”Todoroki, I understand that you are nervous about asking them, but I’m really about to faint from anxiety over this dress over here!”

~”You don’t need to take so much stress over it.” He hopelessly tried to help you.

~”Do you really think that’s going to help me calm down?...”

~”What I mean is… No matter what kind of dress you sew, I know it’s going to be fantastic.”

~”Todoroki, many women are picky about their clothing. Even if one dress is pretty, they might still prefer a different one.” You explained. He seemed to be in thought for a minute. You turned back to the rack while you let him in his thoughts. ‘How am I going to resolve this?’

~”How about that dress?” You heard him ask. You turned around to look at him and saw him point at a draft of a dress that hung on the wall next to your desk, your eyes widened a smidge. You walked over to the draft and admired it.

~”I have never done this dress before.” You admitted as you traced your eyes over the simple but beautiful dress that you had drawn. “No customer has ordered it before.”

~”How come?” He asked again.

~”Well, they never come to the backroom for instance so they don’t see it.” You stated as you started to run your fingers over the worn parchment. Your dream dress. Your perfect dress to meet a kind prince in a flower garden at night, while the stars twinkle and bare witness to the two people falling in love, as they dance the night away under the moon light.

~”Do you plan on one day making it?”

~”What for? It’s too expensive for me to make a dress for a chance that it would be one day bought. I never go anywhere where I would need to wear so formal clothing. It would only be a waste of perfectly good fabric.” You said solemnly as you looked at the drawing again. Which Shoto seemed to notice.

~It was pretty quiet for a moment, you went over your options in your mind briefly. Maybe you should just do one of your more popular styles and hope for the best. You were about to suggest your idea to Shoto, but he beat you to it, and boy were you speechless after that.

~”Would you be willing to make this dress if I ordered it?”

~Will this man ever stop surprising you? Probably not, but you’re pretty sure you’ll always react the same way as you do now, Staring him down and looking for any clues in his body language that he’s pulling your leg.

~”You want this design made?”

~”Yes, I think it’s a very beautiful gown and it would be a shame to just leave it as a draft.” He reasoned.

~”You’ll never cease to amaze me…” You breathed out, not sure if you, once again, should start to second guess his decision. “At this point I would be asking you to reconsider, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t be changing your mind.”

~”You would be correct.”

~”But why Todoroki? Why do you have so much trust in me?” You inquired.

~”Because you’re my friend,” He answered with no hesitation. “I would go as far as to say that I trust you more than some of my family members.” He admitted. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘Alright I was not expecting that.’

~”I literally have no words.” You said dumbfounded.

~”There’s no need for any, I’m simply trusting you because I see you’ve got a good taste, and it would be an insult if a customer didn’t trust their tailor.” He flashed you his million dollar smile, and you almost collapsed to the floor right then and there. Cheese… You swear you’re soon going to have a heart attack from how hard your heart was pounding.

~“R-right, then I’ll make this dress if that’s what you wish, Todoroki.” Damn you and your stuttering.

~”Please, call me Shoto.” You looked at his heterochromic eyes seeing nothing but certainty in them. Your cheeks grew slightly pink.

“Sure, Shoto it is.”

~~~~~~

~You eyed the dress on the mannequin probably for the millionth time as you circled it, brushed off non-existent dust, or rearranged the hem of the dress to look better, even though it was already perfect.

~Saying you were nervous was an understatement of the century. You just couldn’t stop yourself from fidgeting and pacing around the back room. You have been walking around so much that you swore there is a clear path marked on the ground from where you have walked.

~”Just calm down will you? He asked you to make the dress from your drawing and you did just as he had asked.” William followed your pacing form with his eyes, and has been doing so for 10 minutes when the clicking of your short heels on the wooden floor became too distracting.

~”I’m not particularly worried about his opinion and you know it.”

~”I know dear sister, but why should you worry about a one woman’s opinion when you have not even met them?” William leaned on his desk and folded his hands over his chest.

~”They could complain to Shoto of the design or fit and then I would get a mouthful from him.” You imagined horrified as you pulled on your hair.

~”My gods..” He breathed out. “Now that is ridiculous. If his partner does not like the dress then it is not your battle, it’s Shotos and he can’t blame you for it.” He attempted to smack some sense into you. “And I doubt he would be that kind of person.”

~You finally stopped your mindless wandering. Breathing in deeply, and then exhaling. William eyed you. You turned to him.

~”I’m still nervous.” You admitted.

~”I’ll be alright.” He got up to rub your shoulders comfortingly. “Why don’t we calm your nerves with a cup of tea before he arrives-” He was cut off by the ding of the boutique bell. You tensed up.

~”I guess not then.” Your brother hummed. “Good luck!” He gave you a shove towards the doorway and immediately went over to his sewing machine to pick up from where he left off. You sighed and pushed your way to the main area.

~Shoto stood at the entrance, and he smiled as soon as you appeared in the room. You admitted, his smile did ease your nerves a bit, who wouldn’t feel comforted by that gentle smile?

“Welcome back Shoto.” You greeted your friend.

“Hello (Name). It’s relieving to be back, my father has been driving me mad.” He expressed as he hung up his jacket. You laughed lightly at his words.

~”I can imagine. Didn’t you mention he has been pestering you about some matter for some time?” You recalled the last time you spoke, which was a couple of days ago.

~”Yes, however this day has to be the most annoying of them all.” He walked over to the front counter where you stood.

~”How so, did something happen?”

~”You could say that, my father and I got into an argument over the most foolish thing. But I won’t ruin your day by complaining about it.” You felt bad for him that he must put up with his demanding father so much. Anyhow, it was not really your place to snoop into.

~”Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” You inquired.

~”Definite.”

~”Then I will not pry.” You announced, defeated. “The dress is ready, you want to have a look?”

~”I most certainly do.” He answered, with what you could’ve sworn to be excitement.

~”Then I’ll go get it, just a minute.” You disappeared into the backroom to go retrieve the gown. You took a moment to admire it for the last time. It was your dream dress. The dress you dreamed you would own once you grew up. The perfect fairytale dress for a magical ball.

~And now it was going to be someone else's dress for a ball.

~You tore your eyes off it. Not wanting to get too attached to it than you already were. You gathered up the hem of the dress and started pushing the movable mannequin to the main area.

~At least you actually got to make it in the first place.

~You rolled the mannequin over the threshold and over to the mirror. Spread out the skirt once it was in the perfect spot. And brushed out any odd creases. You stepped back and looked at Shoto’s reaction. He was speechless. Eyeing the gown with the most careful and amazed look you’ve ever seen. Even going over every ruffle and gem sewn on it with a delicate touch.

~”What do you think?...” Your question snapped the man from his daze as he turned to you, still a bit blown away.

~”It’s...It’s gorgeous, there’s nothing else I could possibly say.”

~”T-Thank you Shoto, I appreciated it.” Why were your cheeks getting warm, you get acknowledgement from customers all the time.

~”I like it very much, can you pack it for me, please?” He asked.

~”Of course I can.” You playfully answered and he rolled his eyes. You skillfully pulled the dress off the mannequin and carried it to the front counter to fold it neatly and pack into a big brown box.

~”Here’s the exact amount.” He handed you a check, and you took it just as you finished tying a dark-green ribbon around the box.

~”Here you go, feel free to stop by whenever.” You said your usual line as you expected to see him take the box and leave with his usual goodbye, but to your surprise, he doesn’t.

~You questionably tilted your head to the side, wondering what he was up to. Shoto then pushed the big box towards you and simply said:

~”Here, this is for you.”

~You blinked… Then twice… and after the third time you did and he did not move from his spot or do anything, you allowed yourself to once again question this man’s actions. This occurrence is starting to become a routine… It probably already is.

~”What is the meaning of this?” You inquired dumbfounded, thinking this was one big joke. Staring at the just tied up box on the counter like he wanted to return it.

~”It’s for you. For you to have as your very own.” But it was the opposite. He wanted to give it to you. For you to have as your own.

~”Wh- what are you..?” You stopped yourself before you started speaking total gibberish.

~”I understand this may come as a bit straight forward and unexpected, but would you like to accompany me to the ball this weekend?” He inquired while he looked at you with hope and nervousness in his heterochromatic eyes. Despite this, you still had to ask.

~”Are you tricking me?” Shoto flinched a bit when you didn’t answer immediately, then again, why did he think you would? He breathed to calm down his own nervousness.

~”I am not, I assure you, I’m most definitely serious.”

~”But why would you… ask me? What about the partner you’ve been talking about?” You fired question after question. Did his partner turn him down? Are they unable to attend? Are you his last available option?

~”I will gladly explain myself… if you let me.” Shoto said meekly while fiddling with the giant ribbon of the gift box.

~You allowed him to begin explaining, curious and, should you say, eager to hear what he had to say. Part of you still believing that whatever he was going to say, was going to hurt you one way or another.

~”When I first came into this boutique or rather was forced in here by my father, I thought that this suit tailoring process was going to be just like the previous ones I’ve been to. So bland and emotionless. Most of the tailors I’ve worked with were always driven either by money or leverage, not really caring about what or how they were sewing as long as they made the most profit.” He wasn’t looking at you, but at the smooth green ribbon between his delicate fingers.

~”When I came here, and we started the designing process, I was kind of taken off guard how much you cared about what you were doing. Always asking me if I was alright with what you had planned, in such a gentle way.” He squeezed the ribbon a bit more tightly.

~”I didn’t think too much of it at the time. By the second time I visited, I really started to see the passion in your eyes and hear the fire of enthusiasm in your speech. It showed on the clothes you made, managing to make so much more of the measly fabrics that you use, proving that you don’t need the best of the best to make something brilliant.” He let go of the ribbon, letting it slip from his grasp.

~“This side of you caught my attention like a shooting star on a cloudless night. I became interested in your passion and wanted to observe it more.” You tried your hardest not to blush, but your body betrayed you as your cheeks felt a tad bit warmer.

~“Every visit I would learn more about you and I couldn’t help but be captivated. You are so different from me that so many things you talked to me about were things that I have never even thought about. It’s refreshing to hear such things when you live the life I do.” He admitted.

~”Then… what was going on when you set the order for this gown?” You clearly could see his cheeks turn a shade darker.

~”At the time, I couldn’t build up the courage to ask you. So I made up an explanation that I had not yet asked my partner to the ball and needed the dress made before it was too late. Actually, I wasn’t technically lying.”

~”So… I… Was the partner you were planning on asking, this whole time?” You had a hard time wrapping your head around it.

~”From the moment I asked you to make this dress.” He confirmed.

~‘Oh how romantic.’ You thought with a slight laugh. These types of occurrences only seemed to happen in fairy tales, it was unbelievable. You noticed the white rose that poked out Shoto’s breast pocket. It was exactly the same looking as the ones you’ve received for weeks now.

~”That rose!” You suddenly exclaimed, startling both yourself and the male opposite of you. Your demeanor then immediately changed back to your meek demeanor when you realized that it could’ve just been a coincidence. a Really, really weird coincidence.

~”You finally noticed.” He commented. “What did you think of the roses that I left you? Were they a bit too much?” He nervously scratched the back of his neck. Why did he feel so nervous this whole time?

~”So it was you who kept leaving these in front of my front door and not some random guy who kept on mistaking the address.” You made quite a bold move and pulled the rose out of its previous sitting place and started to play with the petals of the flower. Gently feeling the velvety surface with the pads of your fingers. What a satisfying feeling.

~”That’s what you thought they were?”

~”Well I didn’t know what else to think. I didn’t really consider that they could’ve been from you though.” You looked at the delicate bloom in your hands. “But I’m glad they were from you, they really made me feel special.”

~”Do you know what will make you feel even more special?” He leaned closer to your face, so close where both of your breaths mixed, but you did not pull away.

~”What?” You inquired like an innocent maiden as you bravely peered into his miss-matched eyes, no-longer with shyness but calm anticipation.

~Boldly, Shoto closed the already small distance between you and gave you the most gentle and affection-filled kiss you’ve ever had in your life. Your knees would have buckled from under you, had you not taken a firm grip on Shoto’s shoulders, and Shoto taking a hold of your waist. Rose falling from your grasp, and onto the floor.

~He deepened the kiss even more and you gladly accepted it, embracing him with warm and welcoming arms. Soon, the need for air forced you to pull apart but you remained in each other’s hold.

~”Well, what do you say? Will you come to the ball with me?” He inquired again. You smiled again.

~”Of course I will.” He smiled and leaned in to give you another, shorter kiss.

~You suppose William will have to manage without you for a while.

#Shoto #todoroki #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #xreader #x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #part 3

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olliepig · 3 years

Text

Scott-land Yard

So, as everyone knows, it was our wonderful Scott’s birthday yesterday. In honour of that fact, the amazing @willow-salix and I got together and this was the outcome.

It’s also available on AO3 here.

******

“Smile!” Gordon chirped as he and Scott posed for the camera that had been thrust in their faces. John managed something that looked more like a trapped wind grimace and resisted the urge to hide behind Scott.

“I hate this,” John whined. He'd deny it, but it was definitely a whine.

“You hate everything,” Gordon shot back, pausing and shifting to a new pose after only three steps when another passer-by spotted them and requested a picture.

“I do not, I just hate going anywhere public because it’s always like this,” he lifted a hand to shield his eyes as another flash almost blinded him.

“We’re International Rescue,” Scott reminded him. “It’s part of the territory.”

“Yes, because that’s the only reason they’re popping up like meerkats to invade my personal bubble.”

“What else could it be?” Gordon asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” John replied, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “It’s definitely not got anything to do with the fact that we’re dressed like we just fell out of a Jane Austin novel.”

“I think we look good,” Gordon argued, tugging his jacket back into place and smoothing it down.

“We do, quite dashing,” Scott grinned, preening for another picture.

“I think we look like idiots.”

“This is going to be a fun night,” Gordon sighed as they reached the door of the pub appropriately named ‘The Moody Cow’.

“Happy birthday to me,” Scott rolled his eyes, shoving his protesting brother inside.

Looking around the inside did not instil John with more confidence.

“This has to be at least six health code violations.”

“Just six?” Scott quipped.

“I was talking about the front door.”

“Oh stop complaining so much,” Gordon chided him, taking in the sawdust floor and wobbly looking tables. “I think it’s charming.”

“Exactly,” Scott agreed, making a beeline for the bar and ordering three beers. “If this is what the girls have planned, then who are we to argue?”

“I don’t know what their plans are,” grumbled John, reluctantly following his brothers into the bar, “but based on this, I do know I don��t trust either of them.”

“You might have a point there,” Scott conceded, as he waited for their drinks. “We’ve all seen what happens when we leave those two unsupervised, and according to Cat they’ve been planning this for months.”

“We’re doomed,” John groaned, taking an experimental sip of the beer he’d just been passed. “There’s no hope for us.”

“What even is this?” Gordon asked, making a face as he sipped whatever pigs swill had been glassed up and handed over to them. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s traditional, I believe,” John said, taking another cautious swig of his own, unable to decide if he liked it or not.

“Well I like it,” Scott declared, taking a big gulp of his own drink and looking around for a table.

“What is this?” John asked the barman, who fished a bottle out from under the bar, showing him the label. It turned out to be from an historical brewery that specialised in archeological brewing, with recipes taken from old texts and replicated. John raised an eyebrow briefly in what might possibly, somewhere in the outer reaches of space, be considered as appreciation, not that he’d ever admit that, before handing back the bottle and taking his seat with his brothers.

“What time did the girls say they’d get here?” Gordon asked.

“About now I think,” Scott replied, looking at his watch before fixing his eyes on the door in the hope of seeing someone who wasn’t one of his brothers. It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with them, but he had been promised a fun night out with some kind of activity that involved great secrecy and costumes, and he was very keen to find out what it was.

“They’re late,” John sniffed. “I’m not in the least surprised.”

“Since when has Selene been on time for anything?” Gordon laughed. “I’d have thought you’d have stopped complaining about it by now.”

“John? Not taking the opportunity to complain? Never!” Scott jested, giving John a friendly nudge.

John scowled in response. “I am perfectly aware of her way of doing things. I’ve learnt to accept it, but that does not mean I agree with it. Also, I do not complain, I state facts.”

“Can we leave him at home next time?” Gordon asked.

“Yes, please do,” John agreed, sounding far too eager.

“No, it’s my birthday and I want you here,” Scott declared. “Plus I’m not dealing with the girls on my own, this is supposed to be a celebration not torture.”

Before John could open his mouth to reply, their attention was grabbed by a door at the back of the room swinging open, revealing both Selene and Cat dressed as what could only be described as Victorian hookers.

“Oh god,” Scott choked as Cat sashayed towards him, swinging her hips as she went.

“I dread to think what this is about,” John sighed when his own woman reached his side, trying very hard not to lose an eyeball in her cleavage.

“Well hello there, birthday boy,” Cat breathed, sliding herself onto Scott’s lap with a wiggle that made him groan quietly as she slung an arm around his shoulder and placed a small kiss of his cheek.

“This is new,” John observed, skimming a fingertip down the laces of the corset he’d definitely not seen before. “I’d ask what the occasion was but you never need an excuse to go shopping.”

“I feel very left out,” Gordon bitched, his eyes still fixed on the door as if staring at it would reveal his date for the night.

“Is Penny not here yet?” Cat asked, looking up in shock as she finally tore her eyes away from Scott and realised that one member of their party was indeed missing. “I thought she’d have got here ages ago.”

Selene, who had been surprisingly quiet the whole time, now perched herself on John’s lap and lifted an arm to get the attention of the barman.

“You,” she called loudly in a demanding tone. “Da, you, you bring me vodka, big glass.”

“That’s new too,” Gordon laughed, hearing a very strange accent coming out of her previously quite common London mouth.

Selene took the glass with a nod of thanks and downed half its contents in one, slamming it down on the table, before spearing Cat with a warning look. “Nyet, remember what grandmudder say, they pay for grind or get nothing at all.”

“Da, but she also say need to show something to bring them in,” Cat retorted, her face reddening slightly as her awful attempt at a Russian accent grated in her ears.

“Minushka, she say, you show one apple, not whole basket of fruit,” Selene gave a little hip swivel that made John choke on his fancy beer in demonstration then got to her feet, avoiding his attempt to keep her on his lap and his dignity intact. “Like so.”

“And I’ve shown apple,” Cat replied, sliding herself up Scott as she stood, feeling his eyes tracking her every move. “Now he want whole basket.”

“Whole basket is extra,” Selene nodded. “We take to rooms now, da?”

“I can’t even pretend to know what’s going on here,” Scott cut in, clearing his throat and grabbing Cat by the waist, enjoying her shriek as he pulled her back down onto his lap. “But it’s my birthday and I’m very happy with having this ‘basket’ right here, thank you very much.”

He fixed Selene with a stare, daring her to deny him on his special night. Smiling in triumph as she huffed dramatically and looked away, allowing it for now, it was his birthday after all. Risking her wrath further, he placed a quick kiss on Cat's neck before continuing. “Anyway, shouldn’t we wait for Penny before we go anywhere?”

Selene rolled her eyes in Cat’s direction, clearly throwing her under the bus for her best friend being late. “Staff, you cannot get them.”

John’s hand took it upon itself to reach out and tweak the edge of the bustle pad type thing that was giving his woman a backside you could balance a tea tray on, unable to ignore it.

Just as Selene turned to admonish him for touching something he might not be able to afford, the main door to the bar opened and Penny swept in, looking every inch the Lady that she was. Dressed impeccably in what looked to be an original evening gown from the period, her eyes registered her shock at the low cut chemises, corsets and shortened ruffled bustle style skirts that adorned the other two women present.

“Did you not send her the brief?” Selene whispered to Cat, dropping the fake Russian accent she had adopted for a moment.

“Of course I did,” Cat hissed back. “But you know she likes to do things her way. I guess she just decided she knew better.”

“Then I guess that means we have a classy prostitute that’s just joined the ranks, best we got,” Selene whispered back.

“It sure does,” Cat shrugged. “We can make it work.”

“Not like we’ve got a choice,” Selene gripped her corset and hoiked it up, wiggling her boobs back into place then turned back to the boys. “Gentlemen, it is time, we have you now.”

“Is that supposed to be a romantic offer?” John asked, although he didn’t hesitate to offer his hand so she could drag him to his feet.

“In Russia we do not do the romance, we just do the bonk,” she told him, making Scott splutter with laughter. “We have not time for making nice. Time is money, friend.”

Penelope shot her fellow females a look of utter bewilderment with a dash of disdain but gamely moved to join them, running a judgemental eye around the bar and its less than pristine flooring. “I should not have worn great great great great Aunt Mildred’s debutant gown.”

“Yeah, probably not your greatest idea,” Cat laughed, giving her a quick hug in greeting before slipping her hand into Scott’s, giving it an affectionate squeeze as she led the way towards the door at the back of the room.

“What kept you?” Gordon asked, sidling up to Penelope in the hopes of stealing a quick kiss. Much as he loved his brothers partners it sucked to be playing the part of the third wheel. Penelope offered him her cheek, conscious of her perfectly applied lipstick, she might be completely over dressed and apparently out of character and her depth, but she was not about to let that stop her.

“I got held up at the Bureau, they’ve decided that everyone, regardless of experience or seniority, must now have a partner,” she snorted in disgust at the very thought that she might be counted among that number. My new recruit leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Sounds like a bad day,” Gordon winced sympathetically. “But you’re here now, so at least you can kick back, relax and have fun with us.”

Selene threw open the door and started climbing the stairs, stopping them all in a dark, dingy hallway which led off to more doors.

“I guess we’ll see about that,” Penelope huffed, catching the lacy edge of her skirt on a nail that stuck out from a door frame.

“Money first, no kiss, no taking home to mudder,” Selene called out, laying down the rules. “Catya! Penya! Ladies to your jobs.”

Cat grabbed Penny by the hand and towed her forwards to the front of their little huddle.

Selene shoved a door open and walked in two steps before stopping and letting out the longest, loudest and most dramatic scream she possessed, the one reserved purely for kilt shots of sexy heroes or cute animals.

“Holy hell!” Scott yelped, having been directly behind her and therefore deafened the most.

“No,” Cat shrieked, throwing herself over the mannequin splayed out on the floor, using all the acting skills she possessed as Selene and Penelope tried to pull her back up again. “Anna!”

“What on earth is going on here?” Gordon asked, completely lost at the turn of events that the evening had taken.

“You not know?” Selene sobbed dramatically, burying her face in John’s neck to hide the fact that she was still dry eyed as she huddled against his side. “You are in Whitechapel and you know not of the murders? Are you not detectives sent to save us?”

“Ah, I see,” Scott declared triumphantly, feeling rather smug that he’d worked it out before anyone else. “It’s some kind of murder mystery thing.”

“I see nothing!” Gordon whined. “Someone explain, please?”

“What you mean ‘murder mystery’?” Cat sniffed as she looked pleadingly up at Scott, finding it very hard to keep a straight face. “This our friend. You help us please? We not want to be next victim.”

“You help, we pay with kind, da?” Selene did some weird kind of boob shimmy that almost popped the twins right out of the corset that was barely holding them in as it was. John resisted the urge to throw his jacket over her head and drag her away right there and then before she lost every last ounce of dignity she possessed. He was right, they could not be trusted to be left alone to plan anything.

“Well, if that’s what’s at stake, then I think we’d better help the ladies, hadn’t we?” Scott asked, trying very hard to tear his eyes away from Cat’s behind as she crouched back down over the body on the floor.

“Let me make sure I understand this,” Penelope started. “You told me that we would be playing some kind of escape room scenarios and that we had to dress the part, at no point did you tell me that I was supposed to act as a braindead lady of ill repute.”

“Women no work for police,” Selene told her. “Women have but one job, to please man.”

“Women cannot work for the police? There to please men? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous!” Penelope gasped, utterly horrified at the way her friends were apparently happy to set women's liberation back a few centuries. “Now let me tell you somethin-”

“C’mon Penny,” Gordon bravely interrupted her, gently taking her hand and pulling her away from the main group slightly as the others all exchanged worried glances, wondering how this would play out. “It’s just a bit of fun for Scott’s birthday. Nobody means any harm by it.”

“That may be so,” Penelope sniffed, “but I still wish someone had told me in advance.”

“We did,” Selene reminded her, dropping her fake accent for a moment. “We sent you the package with the historical notes and details, it’s not our fault you didn’t read them.”

“And it’s not my fault I didn’t have time!” Penny shot back, her eyes meeting Selene’s in a challenge that nobody wanted to see the outcome of.

Selene’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Gordon took a step closer in case he needed to dive in between them to act as a human shield, but she seemed to think better of it, obviously caring more about the reason they were there, that being her best friend's birthday.

“Well if you’re really not comfortable then nobody is going to force you to do it, Penny,” Gordon continued, trying desperately to keep the peace and allow the night to go ahead more or less as planned. “Tell you what, if we need to keep the numbers equal, why don’t I take your role and you can do mine?”

“Yes, that would do very nicely, thank you,” Penelope replied, brightening instantly and placing a small kiss of thanks on Gordon’s cheek before moving to stand with Scott and John.

John had been wandering the room, taking in everything there was to see, but now his eyes strayed from the crime scene to catch Selene’s, one eyebrow lifting in question. She shrugged in return, she had no clue what was going on either.

“So how does this work then?” Scott asked, trying to move away from the slight awkwardness that seemed to have sprung up in the room.

“How this work?” Cat repeated, trying to hide the smirk of amusement that Scott was finally bamboozled by something from showing. “You police. You investigate scene, go back to police station. Find who did it.”

“Examining body is usually good place to start,” Selene nodded, slipping back into character. “It has been so long since last victim, we thought him gone.”

“We try to help,” Cat added, gesturing to Selene and Gordon. “Can ask us questions. We might know answers, might not. But you not know if not ask us.”

“Anna, rest her soul,” Selene did a wonky cross over her chest and closed her eyes, bowing her head respectfully. “She was good to her mudder, she had three children. They were life. Now she will not have beets to feed her family, for she has been so slain.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” John whispered to her, unable to help the small smile that formed.

“Oh, you know you want me to bring this accent home tonight,” she whispered back, trying not to lose character too much. “You are clever detective, with big,” she looked him up and down seductively, eyes lingering just a second too long below his belt, “brain. You help and I reward, da?”

“John,” Scott called, managing to gain John's attention before his brother's brain short circuited. “We need a game plan here.”

“I’d try reading that note first,” John suggested lightly, pointing at the slip of paper that was half hidden under the victim’s bloody torso.

“Well, sure, if you want to go for the obvious option,” Scott shrugged as if he’d known the note was there the whole time. John and Gordon were not fooled.

Scott bent down to retrieve the blood splattered letter, noting there were fingerprints on it.

“Did you really think I was gone?” he read aloud. “My victims are many in number and miles apart, but now I am back in my original hunting ground and embarking on a series of murders worse than the last. And this time I’m upping the stakes. You almost caught me the first time but you did not succeed. Now you have no choice, find me or I will come for you next. Signed, Jack.”

“Well, that is rather distressing,” Penelope commented. “Based on that note, along with the location and time period, it sounds like Jack the Ripper has made another appearance.”

“Da,” Selene nodded, sidling closer to John to hang off his arm in what she hoped looked to be a suitably terrified way while still rubbing herself against him like an over friendly cat. “It is not safe for us to be on streets. We are honest working girls-”

“Ahem,” Gordon interrupted, clearing his throat and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I swapped with Penny, remember?”

“Honest working people,” Selene corrected herself. “All we do is the sex.”

“You needn't sound so proud of it,” Penelope sniffed, leaning over the body to examine it. “There appears to be a number of wounds to her body, all of which look to be consistent with a stabbing and slashing motion made with a knife, if my memory serves that is correct for the setting.”

“This is not game,” Selene snapped, her temper flaring just a little. They all had their roles to play and Penelope was not taking it seriously enough. The escape room usually had actors that fulfilled the roles that she, Cat and apparently now, Gordon, were playing, but she and Cat had decided that that would likely mean they had too many detectives and would reduce both the fun and the time they would be in the rooms. They had paid extra to hire the whole of the establishment for two hours and to take on the roles themselves to increase the fun. They had spent days researching, learning their lines and brushing up on the details of the case, now it seemed that, not only had Penny neglected to do her homework, she was reluctant to play along.

“A lady detective, I think that’s a bit of alright, I do,” Gordon leered in an attempt to defuse the situation, sounding like a mix of Parker and a bad Dick Van Dyke, Mary Poppins accent.

Cat sniggered to herself, clearing her throat and assuming her character once again when Scott glanced at her.

“Find anything interesting, detective,” she drawled, swanning over to Scott in an attempt to distract him from his mission.

John rolled his eyes, moving to join Penelope at the scene of the crime, although he had to drag Selene with him as she still clung to his arm. “Pass me that camera, will you?”

Selene handed him an old fashioned camera that looked exactly like a victorian era piece but it had been updated with some kind of polaroid technology so that a picture was printed out of it almost instantly in period accurate sepia.

“Huh, that’s actually quite clever,” John reluctantly admitted as he snapped a few shots and collected the photos that came out, handing them to Scott for him to examine. “Penelope, can you bag up anything that you think could be evidence?”

“I’m a little busy here, John,” Penelope answered, already rummaging in the murdered dummy’s clothes.

Scott picked up the slack and took the leather bag that Cat handed him, taking a bag out of it to pick up anything that John might consider evidence. He picked up a key from the ground beside the victim, while John took a photo of a bloody boot print and then laid a piece of paper from the detectives bag over it to make a copy of it.

Selene took it upon herself to delve into the bag too and emerged triumphant, an old fashioned pair of handcuffs dangling from her fingers. She twirled them for a moment, whistling to get John’s attention, then attached them to her belt.

“For later, you will pay extra,” she informed him, blowing him a kiss.

“Do I get toys like that?” Scott asked Cat. “It is my birthday, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware of that,” Cat answered with a wink. “You heard the lady, toys are extra, so you better have brought your big wallet with you.”

“Want to come find out?”

Cat looked him up and down appreciatively. “Is that a grapple gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Locked and loaded.”

“Can you smell something?” Gordon asked Selene, adopting a conversational tone.

“Da," she nodded." Uglichsky.”

“Huh?”

“The english, they call it cheese.”

“Yes, exactly right, something is definitely cheesy around here and I think it’s coming from the birthday boy.”

“Hey!” Scott protested. “Be nice to me, it’s my birthday!”

“And people think he’s the smooth one,” John sighed, shaking his head. “Can we get back to work now?”

Cat, Gordon and Selene shrugged their agreement.

“OK, you can start helping by telling us a bit more about the woman that was murdered and where you were in the hour leading up to the discovery of her body,” Scott suggested, although he soon wished he hadn’t.

What came next was a jumble of gossip of life on the streets, sordid tales of the woman’s past, each more outlandish than the last, a few too many details of her not so private life, some tips on love making in Russia that John was very sure Selene had made up on the spot and enough random information that all three detectives were more confused after than when they had started. Penelope had declared that they had all the information they needed and that they could relax until they were called for.

“Our work here is done,” Cat said, smiling proudly.

“Yeah, but look at them now, being all serious and shit,” Selene replied as she moved to join them, leaving the detectives to do their work.

“I wonder how long it’ll last,” Gordon grinned, lounging against a nearby wall.

“Longer than if you were with them,” Selene sniggered, nudging him gently when he feigned outrage.

Once Scott, John and Penelope had agreed that they had gathered as much evidence as they could from the crime scene, the girls, with Gordon trailing along between them, led the way to the room that housed the police station.

In the room there was a desk, a few chairs and some evidence boxes, along with piles of paperwork and notes. The walls were covered in photographs of the original Jack the Ripper crime scenes, case notes, maps and newspaper articles. There were also autopsy reports, witness statements and artistic renderings of potential suspects.

“Woah, this is actually pretty cool,” Gordon whistled, looking around the room.

“It does seem quite thorough,” John admitted, his eyes taking everything the room had to offer.

“I say we start with the first victim, work our way across the wall and then tackle the desk,” Scott decided, “that way if there is any hidden evidence on the desk we’re more likely to notice it.”

“Agreed,” John said, already calculating ways to catalogue the information they would discover.

“I’d rather start at the desk,” Penny cut in. “One often finds that the first place to look would be the last place someone sat, and they always leave things on desks.”

“Then, by all means,” Scott gave in graciously. “You know best, investigating is your job after all.”

“Scott and I can do the walls while you check the desk and then we can swap if that works for you?” John suggested. “That way we won’t be getting in each other's way.”

“That will do quite nicely,” Penelope smiled, moving to start rummaging through the desk.

“Make sure you don’t tamper with any evidence,” Gordon called cheekily to her, “you’re all supposed to be working together to solve this, not going for solo glory.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you, Gordon,” Penelope huffed, firmly tucking an errant hair behind her ear that had dared escape the meticulously crafted hairstyle that was a perfect replica of a late 18th century style.

“I was just kidding,” Gordon assured her, earning a little smile in return.

Huddled together in a corner with Gordon, Selene and Cat watched as the detectives got to work and congratulated themselves on picking such a unique and fun activity. It was always a bit of a mission to find something to do on any of the boys birthdays. The kind of things that were considered to be once in a lifetime dream opportunities for everyday folk were just a standard Wednesday to their Tracys, so they often had to think outside of the box. Virgil was the next in line and they were already brainstorming, if they left it to any of the brothers they would never leave the island. No, it took their input to get anything done.

“I think we did good,” Cat whispered to Selene as they waited to be called upon as witnesses.

“We did,” Selene agreed. She glanced at Gordon as he bounced about between Scott and John, getting in the way. She couldn't help but smile at his antics, obviously they had expected the boys to be doing the actual detective work and for Penelope to be with them, but they could adapt.

“Has Penny said anything to you?” Selene had to ask, watching the serious way that Penelope was studying a letter she had found in a desk drawer. Their purpose was to both help by answering questions but also to hinder the detectives if they were motoring through the rooms too quickly. The whole experience was supposed to last for at least two hours, giving them time to work up an appetite before they ‘escaped’ and made their way down to the restaurant at the back of the building where they would have a slightly more upmarket atmosphere to eat and drink in.

“Not a thing,” Cat shrugged. “But knowing her as I do, I’m going to assume she had a bad few days at work and is a bit ratty because of it.”

“I guess so,” Selene sighed. “Bit of a shame though, this is Scott’s night and I’ll be pretty pissed off if it ends up being soured because someone is in a foul mood.”

“As would I,” Cat agreed, watching her man as he chatted quietly with John, discussing something they had found.

“They look like they are doing far too well at this,” Selene murmured, nodding at their boys. “I think we need to intervene.”

“You read my mind,” Cat grinned, rearranging her top to show maximum boobs.

“The things we do so they have a good time,” Selene sighed dramatically as she patted her bustled behind. “You know, this thing is kinda growing on me.”

Cat sniggered as they slunk their way over to start annoying to detectives. “Come on, Gordon, do your job.”

“On it,” he saluted, grinning wide.

For the next ten minutes they worked their hardest to distract the detectives with rude tavern songs, a slightly uncoordinated version of the can-can, seductive whispering in their ears and promises of demonstrating the tricks they had learnt on the streets of London.

Hands had to be stopped from sneakily wandering, pieces of evidence had mysteriously vanished only to be found hidden in slightly suggestive places upon their bodies and John had forgotten what he’d been thinking entirely when he’d found himself the recipient of a spontaneous motorboating as he got up close and personal with his girl's chest. Even Penelope had given up on her grumpy mood enough to be jollied into giggling along a few times, that was until the moment that Gordon’s hand came into contact with her behind in a gentle smack.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

"Enticing you into a dalliance, my lady," he grinned, sweeping his barrow boy hat off his head in a mock bow.

"Yes," she hissed, clearly fed up to the back teeth of the antics going in around her. "A lady. Your lady, and one does not smack a lady's bottom in a public place. And you," she pointed a finger of doom at Cat and Selene, "look at you both, look at how you're dressed and acting. It's all well and good playing a role but you're taking it too far, don't you think?"

"How we're dressed?" Selene glanced down at her outfit which, by her standards, was actually pretty normal, although it was in blue and white rather than her usual gothic black. "Should I be insulted?"

Cat just looked shocked, she hadn't thought that their behaviour had been that bad, they had simply been having fun, playing the part. Scott, John and Gordon seemed to be enjoying themselves too. Had she somehow messed up? It was true that she didn't know the family as well as Selene did, since she didn't live with them and was still a relatively part time member, but she had planned this with Selene and was taking her cues from her.

"Oh, come on, Penny, relax a bit, will ya?" Gordon groaned, rolling his eyes.

"I am relaxed," Penelope said, turning back to the wall she was studying.

Scott, who was at the desk studying some papers, caught Gordon's eye, nodding towards Penelope. It was his birthday celebration and he wasn't impressed. Cat and Selene had put a lot of effort into organising it for him and he didn't want their time to be wasted. Cat looked like she was about to cry and Selene looked like she was about to curse something or someone. Much as Scott knew that Gordon hadn't meant anything by his actions or comments, he had simply been joining in after all, it was obvious that something was bothering Penelope and it needed fixing.

Gordon nodded his understanding and moved towards his girl. His arm slipped around her waist and, while she stiffened at first, after a few whispered words she relaxed, allowing herself to lean closer to him for a moment before she shook him off.

"Stop trying to distract me, I'm trying to concentrate."

"It's my job to distract you," Gordon teased gently but it did little good.

"And I'm trying to do my job, so kindly let me do it."

"Dang, and I thought Tracys were competitive," Selene whistled, trying to defuse the tension. "OK, let's do this, boys against girls, screw the rules, you in?"

"I'm so in," Cat agreed, "who says prostitutes can't work with the law?"

The object of the escape room was to find enough evidence to point to a particular suspect that had been chosen by the escape room organisers. Almost like a game of Cluedo where there was a different murderer, room and weapon every time, the escape room team cycled through five of the most well known suspects of the original case. There was no telling which they had picked this time so the girls did their best to help Penelope as she worked to put together all the clues she had found.

Selene had spent a fair amount of time with Penelope, enough to feel like she knew the other woman quite well, but she realised now that she only knew one facet of her personality. Their interactions had mostly been on a casual, socialising level because, although Selene did work with the GDF on a freelance basis now and then working anywhere she was needed, she mostly found herself teamed with Kayo or Rigby. She told herself that this was because she was just that damned handy that they only put her with the best, she refused to acknowledge the fact that they were likely the only ones no longer scared of her. That wasn't it at all.

So, somehow she had managed to spend more than three years in the family and never had the opportunity to watch the Lady at work, now she was kinda glad that she hadn't.

Penelope was very much like John in the fact that when she had a goal in sight she was very bloody minded. She knew what she needed to do and she refused to let anything stop her. Selene tried three times to offer suggestions or to point out what looked like it might be an interesting piece of evidence only to be told, politely but firmly, that she was very wrong. Never one to waste her time flogging a dead horse she passed the baton over to Cat, tapped out with a fist bump and switched allegiance without a shred or remorse or a backwards glance.

"I'm out! You're on your own," she declared, defecting to the enemy camp, announcing her presence with a sneaky grope of John's behind where he was bent over the desk, Scott still in possession of the only chair.

Cat watched her friend go, unable to blame her. She had had the dubious honour of calling Penelope her best friend for more than half her life but that didn't make her any easier to deal with when she was in one of her moods.

A focused Penny was often a snappy Penny, the severity of which Cat had forgotten after years of not working with her on anything like a professional basis. Penelope, much like anyone that came from a privileged background, was used to getting her own way and having things done to their exact specifications. When you worked alone as much as she did, you often forgot that there were other ways of doing things other than your own.

Cat was well aware that just having Parker for back up had done very little to soften Penelope's edges, in fact it seemed to have sharpened them. Oh, she couldn't deny that her friend was excellent at her job, top of her field and still climbing, but that left her little time to waste on those that would potentially hold her back. She was of the mind that if there was someone considered better than you, that simply meant you had more to prove and harder work to do. You didn't stop until you had no one to surpass.

“What’ve we still got to do then?” Cat asked, knowing better than to just dive in and inadvertently mess with whatever strategy Penny was using to solve the mystery.

“You can look at those if you want,” Penny replied curtly, nodding towards a series of pictures beside her, her focus still on the paper in her hand.

Cat sighed as she picked up the pictures, managing not to recoil at the murder scenes depicted on them, as she desperately tried to work out the best way to talk to her friend. It wasn’t unknown for Penny to be prickly and difficult when things didn’t go her way, and it was something that they had fallen out about in the past, but she hadn’t expected her to behave like this at a birthday event for her boyfriend's brother.

“Penny, what's going on with you tonight?” Cat asked, deciding that the direct approach was likeliest to be successful. If experience had taught her anything, it was that Penny was far too good at evading questions and hints if they didn’t suit her.

“Nothing,” Penny dismissed, her eyes still firmly on the job at hand.

“Don’t start that bullshit with me,” Cat replied quietly but firmly, enjoying the look of shock in Penny’s eyes as they flew up to meet hers, clearly not expecting to be challenged. “I know you far too well for your own good and this isn’t like you.”

“What do you mean?” Penny deflected, trying to buy herself time, not liking the anger in Cat’s eyes but doubling down anyway. “I’m here aren’t I? I dressed up just like you asked and I’m even doing your little puzzles.”

“That’s not what I mean and well you know it,” Cat pressed, unimpressed but not surprised by the attempted diversion. “Yeah, you’re here, but you’re acting like you’d rather be literally anywhere else and I’m gonna need you to stop it before it ruins the night for Scott.”

Penny paused for a second, casting a glance around the room to ensure that nobody was in earshot before leaning in to Cat.

“If you must know, I’ve been feeling sick on and off for the last few days, so yes, I probably would rather be anywhere but here if I’m being honest,” she confided, feeling strangely glad to have unburdened herself on her friend.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry to hear that,” Cat sympathised, concern for her friend’s health diluting her anger somewhat. “Do you think you’ve caught something?”

“Perhaps,” Penny replied stiffly, sitting herself back upright again, clearly not wanting to discuss it further.

“You look after yourself tonight, OK?” Cat pressed, not wanting to let the opportunity go. “But can you tone down the grumpiness a little? It’s Scott’s birthday night and we’ve put a lot of work into organising this.”

Taking Penny’s curt nod as an acknowledgement of what she had asked, Cat decided that she had done what she could for the time being. Looking around the room before getting back to her assigned task, she was glad to see that Scott at least seemed to be enjoying himself, absorbed in conversation with his brothers as Selene hovered nearby in case she was needed. Throwing a quick nod to her partner in crime in confirmation that she had tried her best, she reluctantly picked up the pictures again and began scanning them for clues.

Selene had little to do but watch the two teams, content to stay out of the way for the most part. Gordon had slotted back in with his brothers as he always did, the boys working together seamlessly to get the job done, focused now on their end goal.

John had all the relevant information correlated and they had moved onto the floor to spread out their findings. Talking together in hushed voices they were soon busily discussing their theories, expanding on or rejecting as needed until they had narrowed down their suspects to just two.

They held one last, whispered conversation, huddling together even closer when Cat wandered a little too close to their workspace and made their decision.

"So, we're in agreement?" Scott asked.

"Yep," Gordon clarified, John nodding with him.

"Even though I'm the IT guy, I'll allow you to input it, since it's your birthday," John grinned, carefully folding the piece of paper in which they had scribbled their conclusion and passing it to Scott.

"How generous of you," Scott quipped. Taking the paper he crossed over to the old fashioned typewriter that had been set up on the desk.

"What are you doing?" Cat asked suspiciously, "you can't be done already."

"Oh, I think you'll find that I am," Scott replied with a cheeky grin as he started typing out their answer. The typewriter had been modernised so that anything typed on it would be automatically transmitted to the central computer that controlled the escape room, the one that would either release them, or condemn them to try again.

"You don't normally say that so proudly," Cat shot back, making Gordon howl with laughter.

Scott ignored her to continue typing. He finished the last word, hit return and waited.

Somewhere in the hall a buzzer sounded, along with the unmistakable sound of a door unlocking.

“Is that it? Did we do it?” Gordon asked, almost bouncing with excitement.

John stuck his head out into the hallway, ducking back in a second later.

“Gentlemen, we are victorious,” he announced in as serious a tone as he could muster.

“They won?” Penelope glanced at Cat, a look of utter disbelief on her face. Cat shrugged in return. She didn’t really care who won as long as Scott had a good time. "They beat us?"

“Yes!” Scott cheered, high fiving Gordon. “Team Tracy for the win! What’s our prize?”

“I don’t know about you, but I quite like the look of our helpers,” John grinned, sliding an arm around Selene’s waist to pull her in against his side. “Doesn’t the hero always get the girl?”

“Only if he have coin,” Selene shot back, yelping when his hand bounced off her padded backside. “But in this case, I shall make exception. We call it taste test, da?”

“Now I know how Julia Roberts felt in Pretty Woman,” Gordon grinned cheekily. “Here I am, turning cheap tricks on the street and I’ve nabbed myself a real Lady. Personally, I think we all lucked out.”

“Is that so?” Penelope drawled, but she allowed a small smile to flirt with her lips, one that got larger when Gordon followed his announcement up with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “You are impossible.”

“So they all say,” Gordon agreed, offering her his arm. “My lady?”

“Good, sir,” she acknowledged, slipping her arm through his with an accepting nod of her head.

“I’d certainly be very happy to accept our helpers as a prize,” Scott laughed, pulling Cat towards him and placing a quick kiss on her forehead. “Now, anyone got any idea of what happens next?”

Just as he spoke, a member of the escape room staff poked their head into the room. “Congratulations. You have found the killer. Thanks to you, London is safe again. Now, to whom should I give the hat of master detective?”

“Me,” Scott announced without hesitation, accepting the deerstalker hat and placing it proudly on his head before anyone could argue.

“If you’d like to follow me, dinner will be served downstairs in the restaurant. You must all be very hungry after all your hard work.”

“Oh thank God,” Scott declared, doing his best to ignore the stifled giggles aimed at his headwear coming from the rest of his family. “I’m starving.”

“Is there ever a point at which you’re not hungry?” asked Cat, genuinely interested to know the answer.

“Nope,” Scott answered proudly, yelping as Gordon swiped the hat off his head from behind as they walked.

“Gordon, you look ridiculous,” Penny giggled as he tried to put it on over the hat he’d forgotten he was already wearing. “Give it back to Scott. It’s his birthday after all,” she added, catching Cat’s eyes with a quick smile of acknowledgment as she tried to atone for her earlier outbursts.

“Seems unfair but OK,” Gordon grumbled good naturedly, handing the hat back as they entered the restaurant.

“Finally, somewhere that's not a total health hazard,” John muttered to Selene as they took their seats.

Totally ignoring him, not that he cared, Selene fussed around Scott, making sure that the birthday boy was comfortably seated at the top of the table with everything he could possibly need on hand if he wanted it. The start of the evening hadn’t exactly gone as they’d planned but she’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy what was left of the night.

There was something so rewarding about your first decent drink of the night after you’d suffered the stress of event planning and Selene was more than grateful to be able to slip into her chair between Gordon and John and pick up the vodka apple cocktail that had been delivered to her.

“A toast,” Scott started, holding up his beer.

“Isn’t one of us supposed to do that?” John asked as he grabbed his own beer bottle.

“Birthday rights,” Scott told him smugly. “I just wanted to thank you all for being here tonight, thank the girls for planning such a great activity with such pleasant eye candy and for joining in to make it fun.”

“Sure, why not,” Selene agreed, saluting with her glass. “To birthday rights and milking them.”

“Damn straight,” Scott grinned.

“To annoying older brothers on their birthday,” Gordon added.

“To brothers who aren’t safe to be left alone with your witch,” John grumbled goodnaturedly.

“Many happy returns to good friends,” Penelope continued.

Scott looked at Cat, one eyebrow raised in anticipation. “What have you got for me? Anything you wish to bestow upon me for the next year? Any praise that should be coming my way?”

“To my favourite dumbass in the whole world,” Cat grinned, raising her glass to join the rest. “May this year bring you health, happiness and as many enormous steaks as you can eat. Happy birthday, Scott.”

“Now that’s something I can definitely get on board with,” Scott laughed, raising his glass to his lips.

“Are you ready to order?” a waiter asked, appearing out of nowhere. He was dressed in period clothing, as were all the other staff members and a few patrons.

“What do you have here?” Gordon asked. He, like all of the Tracy family, enjoyed nothing more than a good meal and since there had been many years where such a thing was not always readily available, they had learnt to make the most of any time they were somewhere where food was cooked for them by someone who wouldn’t destroy it.

“Your meal tonight will consist of six courses,” the waiter started.

“Six!” Gordon yelped.

“There goes my waistline again, I’d only just found it again after Christmas,” Selene groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “I know this is supposed to be a traditional Victorian meal, but who thought this was a good idea?”

“You,” Cat reminded her.

“Shh, woman,” Selene growled but Cat just smirked, unbothered by the threat. She knew her far too well to take her seriously now.

“I think it’s the best idea you’ve had,” Scott grinned. “I’m so hungry I could eat my hat.”

“Even the ear flaps?” Gordon asked. Scott nodded seriously.

The waiter coughed politely.

“So sorry,” Penelope apologised, “do continue.”

“Your first course is a choice of pheasant or cream of asparagus soup, served with fresh bread. This will be followed with a lettuce salad with accompanying cheese fingers.”

A few eyebrows rose at this.

“Next you have your choice of fish course, consisting of either baked salmon with sauce hollandaise, oysters rockefeller or stewed eels.”

“Eels?” Selene made a face of pure disgust which was echoed by Cat and John.

“For your entree meats you have a choice of hunters style stuffed venison, roasted chicken, pan fried duck, lamb medallions or a sirloin of beef. You can pick any combination.”

“Any combination?” Scott was practically drooling.

The waiter nodded, clearly having seen the disbelieving faces many times before.

“All are accompanied by a choice of wild mushroom risotto, boiled new potatoes, potato croquettes or boiled rice, along with green peas and seasonal vegetables.”

“I’m in heaven,” Gordon groaned.

“For your dessert course we have a choice of a delicious lemon sorbet, chocolate mousse, sugar biscuits or a selection of petits fours. This will be followed by a cheese course and finally coffees,” the waiter finished with a flourish, clearly enjoying playing the part. He stood with his order pad, awaiting their decision.

Blank faces stared back.

“Clearly this is new to you all,” Penelope sighed. “You must excuse them. I’d like the asparagus soup and then the baked salmon, followed by the venison with boiled potatoes and the sorbet to finish. Thank you.”

“How the heck did you do that?” Gordon goggled. “I’m pretty sure even John didn't catch all that.” He looked at his brother for confirmation.

“I made it up to the meat selection,” John confirmed.

“I’ve forgotten everything before chocolate mousse,” Selene admitted.

“I got stuck on the eels,” Cat joined in.

“I’m still trying to decide which meats to pick,” Scott finished.

“It’s quite alright, sirs, madames,” the waiter assured them, producing a number of printed menu cards from somewhere about his person. “I shall give you a moment to decide while I fetch tonight's choice of wines and refresh your waters.”

“Thank you,” Cat called after him, already scanning the menu.

A lively debate broke out as everyone discussed the options, deciding what they would like and struck up bargains amongst themselves of who would get to try a sample of the others meal. Scott, of course, had pulled out his birthday card again to secure himself a taste of everyone's food.

Decisions finally made it was a better informed group that reeled off their choice of food to the waiter, who’s name they found out was Carl. He left them with four bottles of wine and didn’t even baulk at Scott ordering the sirloin, lamb medallions and the roast chicken. He was getting the biggest tip of the year that night.

-x-

“I can’t walk, I’m too fat, carry me.”

“My love, I adore you, but if you are indeed as fat as you claim I doubt carrying you would be good for my health.”

Selene paused to think about this, wondering just how her man seemed to be able to drink the amount of beer and wine he had and still form a coherent and slightly sarcastic response. It was one of the many things she found quite sexy about him. Hmm, sexy...

“I do like your body to be in peak health,” she mused, letting her eyes wander up and down his body, taking in the tailored coat, waistcoat, neckerchief and shirt combo that was sitting so well on him. His hair had been brushed back and styled in a close approximation of the era's popular side parted look and it suited him to perfection, though she missed that familiar curl she liked to run her fingers through. “I’ve heard that regular exercise is key, for which I’m always willing to lend a hand.”

One eyebrow rose at her assessing stare and blatant ogling of his person. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he assured her, trying to keep his serious tone but only just managing it.

“Good, you do that,” she insisted, wobbling slightly on her heels as she tried to keep to a straight line. She sighed happily when his arm draped around her shoulders, helping to keep her upright. She slipped her arm around his waist, leaning closer. This was good. This was nice.

“Do you think Scott had a good time?” she asked quietly, watching Scott and Cat as they walked a little way ahead of them.

John rolled his eyes, having known this was coming. She always got like this when she had a few drinks in her. She would either be so over confident she thought she was a queen or she started doubting her very existence.

“You know he did,” John assured her. “You always manage to somehow dream up the best ideas for us, something we very much appreciate, and joining forces with Cat made it all the better.”

“Cat’s great,” Selene said, smiling dopily. “I love her, she’s the best.”

“You love everyone when you’re tipsy, I should be grateful that I’m getting any attention at all.”

“Oh hush, you’ll get more attention than you can handle when we get home.”

“I must admit, a night of peace and quiet alone in our little apartment, before we return to the madness of the island tomorrow, is sounding like heaven.”

“Just the peace and quiet?” Selene’s hand slid its way neatly from the small of his back to his right buttcheek.

“Not just that,” he admitted. He glanced at his brothers and their respective partners. “Can we say goodnight now?”

Selene followed his gaze, still feeling the need to check the situation one last time before she abandoned her duty of best friend for the night and concentrated on her man.

Scott and Cat were giggling so loudly she could hear it echoing around the quiet streets, that and the clack, clack, clack, skkerch noise of Cat’s heels as she stumbled now and then. Scott was trying admirably to keep her upright, just as John was with her, but it seemed that all of the ballerina’s balance and poise had abandoned her.

“They seem happy enough,” she murmured, her eyes searching out the other two. Gordon and Penelope were walking close together, though there was a lot less holding up than the other two. Gordon was a little winding in his walking but was holding his own, chatting amicably, clearly on his best and most charming behaviour. Penelope was the vision of a perfectly put together lady, she always was no matter how much she drank. Not that she seemed to have indulged much from what Selene could tell.

“Did you see Penny drinking much tonight?”

John paused, frowning lightly as he thought about it. “No, I don’t believe I did. We went straight up to the rooms when she arrived so she missed out on the first drinks and she said she wasn’t in the mood for those wines and, since she doesn't touch hard liquor and can’t stand the taste of beer, she’d stick to fruit juice.”

“Makes sense,” Selene shrugged, not bothering to think too much about it. “Gordon seems to be back in her good books now so I guess it’s safe to leave them all to their own devices.”

“Good enough for me,” he grinned, stealing a quick kiss before raising his voice to be heard. “Scott, Gordon! We’re heading home, don’t forget to be ready to go at one, any later and we’ll leave without you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gordon called back. “And if I ask if we’re nearly there yet one more time you’ll dump me out at 5,000 feet.”

“Too right I will,” John answered, not even trying to deny the threat as being a possibility. “Scott?”

“One, got it,” his brother responded after a well placed elbow to the ribs from Cat. “Although you know you’ll have to wait for me, it is my birthday.”

“One more day, that’s all you have left to use that excuse,” Selene reminded him.

“And I’m gonna milk it for all it’s worth,” he assured her, opening his arms for a hug.

Selene pulled him into her arms, yelping when he grabbed her a little too tightly and tried to lift her into the air, holding her against his chest as he rocked her back and forth.

“John! A little help!” she patted Scott’s back ineffectively, dropping her bag which hit the ground with a suspiciously metal sounding rattling clunk.

“Alright, bro, that’s enough, give her back and go home,” John ordered, rescuing his girl from his brother’s limpet like grasp. “Go fling your own around until she throws up.”

“Good plan!” Scott, who had been on the verge of pouting when his cuddle buddy had been stolen, now grinned.

It was Cat’s turn to shriek as she was unceremoniously grabbed around the waist and hoisted up to drape over his shoulder as he took off running.

“Don’t drop her!” Selene called but they were gone.

“And people think I’m the one to watch out for,” Gordon mock sighed, shaking his head.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” John laughed.

“Night, Pen,” Selene said, giving the other woman a hug goodbye and then Gordon.

They waited until the pair had wandered off in the direction of their hotel, Penelope having given Parker his freedom for the night, before Selene allowed John to drag her to the tube station. Everyone was taken care of, the night had come to an end and now she could finally relax.

-x-

“Are you OK there?” Cat giggled as she threw her keys on the table, the amount of wine she had drunk with the meal making the sight of Scott sprawled on her sofa, looking very much like he might pass out any second much more amusing to her than it usually would.

“I’m absolutely fine,” he smiled up at her, grabbing her hand and pulling her down beside him. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” she laughed as she teetered dangerously on the edge of the sofa before losing her fight with gravity and slipping onto the floor with a bump. “Just that I’ve never seen anyone eat that amount of meat and remain conscious before.”

“Clearly, you’ve never been out for a meal with Virgil then,” Scott chuckled, undoing his belt and top button to give himself more room. Now that she’d mentioned it, he did feel rather full, not that he’d ever let her know that.

Cat spun herself around where she sat, threading an arm around Scott’s waist and resting her head on his chest, enjoying the peace and quiet her flat afforded them as he absent-mindedly stroked her hair.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight then?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably as the bones of her corset started to dig in. How Selene managed to wear stuff like this on a regular basis was beyond her, although she did have to admit that it gave her a good figure which she had caught Scott admiring on more than one occasion over the course of the night, so perhaps she was onto something.

“It was awesome,” Scott declared, sensing Cat’s discomfort and making room on the sofa for her. “You did a great job.”

Cat let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as she hauled herself up beside him. “I’m so glad. It’s a bloody nightmare trying to think of anything for you lot.”

“Well, I really appreciate the thought that went into it,” he continued, flashing her a dazzling smile. “It was a great night and I think everyone had fun. Even Penny seemed to get into it by the end.”

“Yeah, she got there eventually,” Cat agreed, relieved that her friend’s behaviour hadn’t soured his enjoyment of the night. “Anyway, now we’re home, there’s something I want to give you.”

“It’s the handcuffs from earlier isn’t it?” he guessed, genuinely unsure as to whether that would be a good thing or not.

“No, I think Selene took them,” she giggled, enjoying the look of horror that passed over Scott’s face before he shook his head to clear unwanted thoughts of what his little brother and best friend may or may not be up to at that moment.

Jumping up from the sofa, Cat grabbed a small box that she’d carefully stowed on the mantelpiece earlier, handing it to him carefully. “Happy Birthday Scott,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly before retaking her place on the sofa beside him.

“Thank you,” Scott beamed as he started to peel off the wrapping paper, taken by surprise by the gift. They had talked about it beforehand and he had assured her that spending the evening together would be more than enough for him to be happy, so this was completely unexpected.

Cat just smiled in reply, taking a sip of her drink as she anxiously waited for him to open it. Buying the man who had literally everything he could ever dream of something for his birthday was a task that she had hated every minute of and a tight knot formed in her stomach in case she had somehow got it wrong.

“It’s amazing,” Scott gushed, finally opening the lid of the box and pulling an antique pocket watch out of its satin bed to examine it better, running an appreciative finger over the ornate filigree on the back. “I absolutely love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Cat smiled, relief rushing through her as he went straight back to scrutinising his new toy. “But your present isn’t just the watch though, it’s really what the watch represents.”

“I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me there,” Scott admitted, a small frown appearing on his face as he looked up in surprise.

“Time,” Cat explained, her grin becoming wider as she became more confident in her choice. “From today, I’ve arranged for us to both have seven whole days off from our jobs. We’re going back to the island tomorrow but then what we do is absolutely up to you. We can stay there, come back here or do anything else that you might like.”

For once in his life, Scott was speechless, unable to think of any response other than to grab Cat and pull her into a tight hug. “How?” was all he could manage when he finally let her go. “How on earth did you manage that?”

“John and Selene helped me sort it out,” Cat explained. “He’s going to stay down and let EOS run Five while you’re away so there’s backup if needed.”

“Wow,” he breathed. “I don’t remember when I last had that amount of time off in one go.”

“That’s exactly what Selene said when I mentioned the idea to her,” Cat smiled, relaxing back against the cushions now that she knew her idea was a success.

“Do you think we really have to go back tomorrow though?” Scott wheedled, nuzzling into Cat’s neck, trying to hit all the spots that he knew usually made her putty in his hands. “Can we not just stay here for the whole week, order lots of pizza and be really antisocial?”

“Nice try,” she laughed, using all her strength to shove him off. “Selene and I are cooking you a birthday meal for all the family so yeah, you do kinda need to be there for that. But after that we can absolutely just chill out here if that’s what you'd like.”

“Spoilsport,” Scott grumbled goodnaturedly, his smile giving away his true feelings about the prospect of having all of his family around him for a meal not cooked by his grandma.

“Yep,” Cat agreed cheerfully. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing probably,” he shrugged. “Too tired and full at the moment.”

“Thought as much,” she concurred, nestling in and resting her head on his chest.

Silence descended over them as they lay, lost in their own thoughts. Turning his watch over in his free hand, Scott was unable to stop himself from fiddling with the clasp, repeatedly opening and closing the case as a smile crept onto his lips, the evening replaying in his mind.

“Is it time for bed yet?” Cat yawned eventually, the adrenaline from making sure the night ran smoothly finally beginning to wear off.

“Let me check,” Scott grinned, opening the watch case once more and squinting at it. “Yes. Yes, I think it is.”

“C’mon then,” she decided as she pushed herself off the sofa, somehow finding the energy to help haul Scott upright from where he was almost horizontal on the cushions.

“Thanks,” he mumbled sleepily, draping an arm around her shoulder as they made their way towards the bedroom and some well-earned rest. “This has been the best birthday ever.”

#Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Penelope Creighton Ward #selene tempest #Catriona George #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction

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alovesongshewrote · 4 years

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Almost A Thousand Years - 1700/1800 | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot: You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years. You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years. And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain. But somewhere in that time, things changed. [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count: 3,898

Warnings: jack the ripper, reader is called a whore and a wench

A/N: tis my longest chapter yet!

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You hid away for most of the eighteenth century.

You healed when you could, but what happened to Douxie scared you a little more than you’d like to admit.

So you hid.

You found ways to entertain yourself. You read more, painted a little, continued your medical practice, and learned more about medicine whenever the knowledge became available. You continued to keep tabs on other immortals. It was pretty boring except for that time the Americans revolted. You had to admit it was fun to keep tabs on the scrappy rebellion. You couldn’t say it out loud as you still lived in England, but you gave a little cheer every time they fought off the British. You didn’t like authority. Neither did they.

On the other side of the continent, Douxie did the same things he always did. Music, magic, work for Merlin. He also read the book you’d given him. He liked it.

It was a century of hiding, waiting, and having nothing much to do. The next century would be the exact opposite.

Jack the Ripper was a dick.

You really didn’t like him.

Douxie didn’t like him either.

And Archie didn’t like him.

So, like in every good piece of media that has a chapter in the nineteenth century, you protagonists teamed up to take down Jack the Ripper. It was super effective!

You met up with your partners in the fog-filled streets of the White Chapel district soon after the second murder. In your hands, you held a newspaper covering the recent events. You approached the wizard and his familiar, but they didn’t see you. They were caught in a conversation with someone you’d never seen before, a stocky man dressed in a dark overcoat and hat. The stranger hadn’t noticed you either.

Silently, you hid in an alley between two nearby buildings. You couldn’t hear them, but from the stranger’s body language, he seemed a bit defensive, maybe even a little angry. You sincerely hoped Douxie wasn’t doing anything stupid.

About a minute later, the man stormed off, leaving Douxie and Archie behind. They still hadn’t noticed you, so you took the opportunity to sneak up on them.

“Hey!”

“Aaaaahhhh, jeez (Y/N)! Don’t do that! There’s a killer on the loose!”

“And he’s only killed prostitutes so far, so you should be fine. Unless there’s something you aren’t telling me?” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

He gave you a small shove, too small to be malicious, “Very funny. Have you learned anything new?”

“Mhmm, but first,” you turned to Archie, giving him a pat on the head, “Hey Arch, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,”

“That’s good! That’s good, anyway, you know they think it’s a doctor, but they received a letter signed ‘Jack the Ripper,’”

“Very fun nickname,”

“Indeed, but it still isn’t much to go off of, the police already doubt it”

“(Y/N), remind me again what your sources are?” the familiar was right to be suspicious, but you knew your sources were solid.

“I’ve told you Arch, a forensic doctor, he’s a friend of mine and he works with the police,”

“And how do you know you can trust him?”

“I don’t, but they’re publishing the letter soon, so you’ll see it then. You guys got anything?”

“Not much,”

“Huh. That isn’t great,” you took a moment before speaking again, “By the way, who was that man you were talking to? He seemed angry,”

“Oh, him? He’s just a resident of this area. I’ve been talking to him for a while, I thought he might know something, but every time I even mention it he gets, well…”

“Like that?”

“Yes, like that,”

You looked out the way the man had gone, “You think he’s a suspect?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,”

Archie nodded in agreement.

“Well then,” you said, returning the eyes to the face of your accomplices, “Keep an eye on him. See you next Thursday?”

“Sounds good,”

By next Thursday, another girl was dead.

You met with your team in a (very) shady pub to discuss this development. Thanks to some connections, you’d snagged a private room where no one else could hear your detective work.

“God DAMMIT, guys, how did we miss this?” you said, pacing. Your hands were on your hips, eyes fixed on the floor. You seriously could not figure out how you missed this.

On the wall behind you, you’d attached some photos and newspaper clippings to the wall, red yarn connecting them. You were very ahead of your time.

“I really don’t know,” Douxie was sitting, upside-down, in a chair across from you. He threw the ball of yarn up in the air, letting it fall, and catching it over and over again. Archie didn’t answer, he was focused too hard on the yarn.

You stopped pacing and glared at your conspiracy wall. You followed the red string with your finger. It lead nowhere. You groaned and ran your fingers through your hair, something that Douxie found alarmingly attractive.

Ever since you saved his life in the sixteen hundreds, he’d developed a bit of a soft spot for you. It wasn’t something he was proud of. But it was fine, you’d developed a soft spot for him too.

“Hey, it’ll be alright, love,” he said, sitting up properly, “We’ll find this monster, so don’t worry yourself too much,”

You took a deep breath, leaning against your crime wall, “Thanks Doux. I appreciate it,”

Your voice was slightly sarcastic, but you both smiled still. Archie frowned, the yarn wasn’t moving anymore.

“So,” you said, turning again to examine the mess of photos and yarn, ”He isn’t an official suspect, but I think this guy, this James Maybrick, seems a little suspicious,” you pointed at his photo, “He’s going to be at this ball thing on Friday. If we go, we can ask him if he plans on traveling, he lives in Liverpool, and-”

“I’m sorry, he lives where?”

“Liverpool, Arch, pay attention-”

“(Y/N), why do you think he’s coming all the way out to White Chapel to murder these women?”

“Well it isn’t his area, that makes him less of a suspect, and all of the murders have been on Saturdays and Sundays, which gives him time to travel,”

“You might be onto something,” Douxie said, standing and letting the yarn fall to the ground where Archie chased it around, thoroughly distracted, “We can go check it out, but how do we get in?”

You bit your lip, deep in thought, “My doctor friend, he knows the hostess. He might be able to get us in,”

“Fantastic!”

“There’s just one thing,”

“Yes?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll have to pretend to be my fiance,”

There was a moment of silence while Douxie considered this.

You tried to explain yourself, “I-It’s not my first choice either, but high society doesn’t approve of-”

“I’ll do it,”

“And I know it’s inconvenient, but-”

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“I said I’ll do it,”

It was your time to consider, and you considered yourself super lucky to have an accomplice like Douxie.

“Oh my god, thank you!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,”

You couldn’t see Douxie’s face, so he had no idea that he blushed before wrapping his arms around you softly.

“No problem (Y/N), no problem,”

Two days later, you were wearing fancy clothes, and freaking out a little.

This was nothing compared to Douxie who was freaking out a lot. Mostly because you looked absolutely stunning, but also because there was a possible murderer inside the building. You know, typical stuff.

The two of you stood outside the manor, looking up at the vast estate. It was beautiful but intimidating. You turned to your partner in crime-solving, “You ready for this?”

He nodded.

You closed your eyes, swallowed back your anxiety, and linked your arm with his.

“Let’s do it,”

The manor was, simply put, dazzling. The size of it reminded you of the smaller cathedrals during the sixteenth century. The floors were marble, the ceiling decorated with a mural, just like the cathedrals you now reminisced. The room was lit with a large chandelier, the warm light covered the whole room in a glow the colour of honey. Columns, the same marble as the floor, stood strong around the perimeter. On one side of the space, an orchestra played. The center was full of people dancing. Some people stood at the side of the room speaking, others just observing everything else. It was a crazy party, but only by Victorian standards.

The sheer amount of activity made you panic a little. As if Douxie could sense your anxiety, he found one of your hands and squeezed it reassuringly. You smiled a little, once again thankful for such an amazing partner in crime.

The two of you made your way around the dance floor, checking faces, looking for your suspect. You didn’t see him. You and Douxie made a full circle around the room, not seeing your guy. You were about to suggest finding a higher viewpoint when the hostess of the party stopped you.

She was a plump, elegant woman, draped in the finest of silks. Her hair shone, and her eyes sparkled. She was perfectly gorgeous, and perfectly in your way.

“Ah, fuzzbuckets,”

“Oh, my dear (Y/N)! It is so good to see you, darling!”

“It’s good to see you as well, my Lady,” you returned, bowing slightly. Douxie followed your lead.

“‘Tis a pity the good doctor couldn’t be with us! He works so hard, you would think he would come out and dance for an evening! Just to relax!” The woman laughed as if wishing the doctor was here was the funniest thing on the planet. Maybe it was to her Victorian sensibilities.

You laughed an appropriate amount, plastering on a fake smile, and biting your tongue at the irony. This was the least relaxed you’d been all century.

When the Lady stopped laughing, she noticed Doxie, “Oh, (Y/N), dear, you must tell me who this dashing young gentleman is! How in heaven did you find such a match?”

“My Lady, this is my fiance, Mr. Casperan,”

“It’s lovely to meet you fair Lady, and might I say that the moon and stars dull in comparison to your eyes; even a goddess of beauty could not hold a candle to your visage,”

You tried to keep cool, but you felt your eyes widen a bit. You had never heard Douxie speak like that before. You weren’t sure how it made you feel yet, but clearly, the Lady enjoyed it. A blush covered her face as she gushed over the wizard for another two minutes. You spent that time subtly searching the crowd for Maybrick.

Clearly, you were not as subtle as you thought.

“Oh, dear, I see your partner is eyeing the dance floor,” the lady said, her face still painted with a blush. Her words called you to attention.

“Ah, yes, my apologies my Lady,”

“No worries at all dear child, now go! Dance the night away!”

“Thank you,” you said, once again bowing.

“It was wonderful speaking with you, my Lady,” Douxie said, following your actions before leading you to the mass of dancing guests.

“She’s watching us,” Douxie whispered to you through clenched teeth, “Can you dance?”

“Not super well, but enough to survive,”

“Just follow my lead,”

Douxie could dance pretty damn well, something you weren’t too surprised by. He’d spent a lot of time learning music throughout the centuries, you’ would've been a bit surprised if he hadn’t known how. He was so good, in fact, that you were almost certain he was making you a better dancer just by being near you. You’d be lying if you said this wasn’t the most fun you’d had in a while.

“So, where’d you learn to flirt like that?” you asked, your voice low so that no one else could hear you.

“I’ve picked some things up over the years,” he said, spinning you out and then back in again.

“I have to say, I was quite impressed. I didn’t see that coming,”

He faked a gasp, “Why I’m offended! You don’t think I can flirt?”

“Well, I didn’t until tonight. But I stand corrected,” he dipped you, “You can flirt extremely well Hisirdoux Casperan,”

“Thank you, (Y/N) (L/N),”

You both smiled continuing the dance, scanning the crowd for the face of the killer. And in between that, just staring at each other.

You almost regretted finding the suspect.

You hated to admit that a small part of you had hoped to just dance with Douxie for the next few hours, pretending that you were a couple and that you weren’t magic, and you weren’t immortal, and you hadn’t seen pain and suffering the world over, and he hadn’t been tortured two centuries before. You just wanted to dance.

But you saw him.

And the good of the humans came before the things you wanted.

“Doux, I see him,”

“Where?”

“To your left and back behind you. Don’t look at him. We’ll get off the dance floor, and I’ll question him,”

“Are you sure?” Douxie thought about elaborating. About telling you that he didn’t want you to get hurt and that he too, wanted to keep dancing.

But he didn’t. And you were sure.

So, you left the dance floor and made your way to the suspect. You made sure Douxie stayed far enough behind you for his presence to be non-threatening, and made your approach.

“Wonderful party isn’t it Sir…?” you waited for him to give you his name.

“Maybrick, Mr. Maybrick,”

“Mr. Maybrick. A lovely name,” internally, you cursed God for giving Douxie all of the charm and leaving you none.

“May I ask where you’re from Mr. Maybrick?”

“I’m from around here, Liverpool. May I ask who's asking?”

“I-”

“(Y/N), dear! Where have you put that lovely boy of yours! I have some friends he simply must meet!”

You could not believe that the hostess was interrupting you yet again. This time, Maybrick actually ran from you. You cursed under your breath. The Lady was far enough away that you could pretend not to hear her. You could still catch the suspect, you just had to run a little. In the outfit you were wearing, it would be next to impossible, but you really didn’t want to talk to the hostess again, so you gestured for Douxie to follow, and you chased after Maybrick.

You ran through the ballroom, dodging patrons and maneuvering around dancers. It felt almost like a fairytale; Cinderella if the princess had to chase down a dangerous serial killer instead of just flee the ball.

The suspect ran out the front doors, and you followed him, Douxie close behind. The night air was cool on your skin, a nice contrast to the warmth of the ballroom. You lost a shoe, and your hair was slowly turning into more and more of a mess, but you didn’t care, you wanted to catch this guy.

You did not catch that guy.

A horse-drawn carriage was waiting for him at the end of the lane. There was no way you could compete with that. Not unless Archie would shapeshift into a horse for the sake of catching a possible criminal.

A black stallion pulled up beside you.

It was Archie, shapeshifted into a horse for the sake of catching a possible criminal. You manifested your hot girl mystery-solving arc.

“Get on!” both Douxie and Archie exclaimed, Douxie offering you a hand up. You took it, jumping onto Archie’s back, wrapping your arms around the wizard's waist, and riding after the carriage.

The night was dark, and the carriage moved fast. Archie kept up pretty well for a familiar with two people on his back. He went so fast that all you could do was cling to Douxie for dear life as the dark world blurred around you. It was not for a lack of trying, but eventually, you lost them.

“You did good Arch, you did good,”

“Thank you, Archie,” you said, forehead buried in Douxie’s back.

“I appreciate the thanks, but it isn’t over yet. We left all of our stuff back at the manor, so we should return,”

“That’s probably a good idea,”

The journey back showed you how far you’d gone. Needless to say, you were super proud of Archie. You’d have to remind yourself to get him some fish later.

When you arrived back at the manor, the party was still going. You could hear the music from the outside. You dismounted Archie and leaned against his side.

“All of this,” you groaned out, “for nothing,”

“Well it wasn’t exactly for nothing,” Douxie said, stretching his arms above his head, “Maybrick ran from us, that’s suspicious. I think we can officially call him a suspect. Here,” he threw your missing shoe your way, “You dropped this,”

You smiled, leaning on Archie for support as you slipped it back on, “Thanks,”

“My pleasure,”

You laughed. The stars above you caught your eye. They were so beautiful tonight. The music was nice too. Everything was so peaceful.

It reminded you of another night, centuries ago, when you’d been allowed to rant and rave, and the wizard just listened to you.

“Hey, Douxie?”

“Yes, love?”

You hesitated, trying to think of something to say. Eventually, you came up with, “We’re still enemies after this, right?”

He laughed a little. It sounded kind of sad, “If you want us to be,”

At that moment, you didn’t know what you wanted.

That’s a lie, you wanted to kiss Douxie.

But you hadn’t figured it out just yet, so, for now, you just stared at his lips, wondering what that feeling was, and listening to the song end.

“We should head back,”

“I guess we should,”

Neither of you were satisfied with this outcome.

You wouldn’t be satisfied until you caught the killer, or as it turned out, killers.

You’d been back at the pub, obsessing over the crime wall, tracing the red yarn over and over again. Doux and Archie were starting to worry about your health. Then you cracked the code.

“What if,” you said, turning from the wall, “There’s more than one,”

“More than one?”

“Yeah, more than one killer. There’s more than one person involved here,”

The wizard and his familiar exchanged a look. Maybe you were sleep-deprived and in need of a nap, but maybe you were onto something, “Go on,”

“Think about it, we’ve got multiple leads, some doctors, some live in the area, some have the motive, some are just suspicious, but none of them have everything they need to commit murder. What if they’re working together?”

“Keep talking,”

“Look, here,” you said, pointing at a photo of a suspect, “Johnson Druitt, he lives in the white chapel area and has the anatomical knowledge,” you moved to another photo, this one a sketch, “Barnett, his roommate works the streets, he’s in love with her and we know he hates her job. If he killed those other women to scare her, he has a motive,” you moved on again, “And Maybrick,” you stopped, trying to piece together his role in this grand conspiracy.

“He’d have the funds to cover it up, plus the interest in the case,”

You spun around to face the wizard, “Douxie, you’re brilliant!”

You took a step back from the wall, taking in your work, “So, what do we do now?”

“Simple,” Douxie said, resting an elbow on your shoulder, “We go after him,”

You didn’t mind being bait. Really, you didn’t. But you did find it boring.

You’d been walking around this general area for two hours now, this disguise was uncomfortable, and you just wanted something else to do. Then your wish came true!

Two men approached you from the front, both short in stature with well-kept moustaches. You hid a smile, the three killer theory proving itself correct. You walked forward, your peripheral vision focused on the men.

The three of you kept walking.

You passed between them.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?”

They stopped, you continued on.

“Excuse me, dearie?”

“Yes?” you purred, turning to them.

Then you were grabbed from behind. Fortunately, you expected that little trick, grabbing the stranger and flipping him over your body. The man landed on the pavement with a thud. You grinned as the three men looked at you, faces full of shock. Unfortunately, it wore off, and the three advanced.

The first one threw a decent punch, but you dodged, forcing him to punch one of his partners. You swept the legs out from under the third.

The first two had recovered and were coming at you again, this time with blades. It was this moment when you noticed the blood on their coats. It wasn’t theirs, or yours for that matter. Yep, these were definitely your guys.

The first blade missed you, the second one just grazed your side. You bit down a cry of pain, sincerely hoping that blade was clean. You could see Douxie emerge from his hiding place; clearly, he’d felt the sting of the metal too.

But you didn’t have time to focus on Douxie, you had to fight.

You threw a few punches of your own, knocking the duo back into the street and closer to the wizard.

“Gah, you wENCH!!” one of them exclaimed.

“Kill the whore!!”

You could see the rage in their faces, but that wasn’t as important as the fact that you could see their faces. Maybrick and Druitt. Your theory was right! Your excitement fell away as they advanced.

Then they both fell into limbo.

The portal down glowed blue around them. Douxie stood behind the gateway, looking very proud of himself.

You would have laughed at their misfortune and Doux’s pride if you hadn’t been grabbed from behind again.

You cried out in surprise, catching the attention of the wizard.

“(Y/N)!”

“Don’t come any closer!” you felt the cold of a blade on your throat. This wouldn’t end well.

“Come on now, don’t make any rash decisions,” Douxie’s hands were raised in surrender, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’ll kill the wench! I’ll do it!”

“Hey, don’t-”

“My Mary is dead! There’s nothing left! I’ll kill her!”

“Wait, who's dead?”

“My girl,” the man sobbed, his grasp on you weakening, “My Mary Kelly, I’ve lost her! She’s gone!”

You may have felt bad for this guy if he hadn’t been absolutely insane. You took his distracted state as a chance and broke from his hold, pushing yourself away from him.

“Douxie! Now!”

The portal to limbo opened under the man. He had no time to react as he fell into the other dimension.

You looked down into the gateway, a blue pool in the middle of a dull cobblestone street. You sighed with relief as the blue magic sealed itself shut, leaving the night dark again.

“Nice work,”

“Thanks,”

Lights came on in the windows around you. In the distance, you heard shouting.

“We should get out of here,”

“Good idea. See you next century?”

“Oh, absolutely. Say goodbye to Arch for me,”

“Will do,”

And you slipped away into the night, excited by this latest adventure, but still wanting more.

#hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux imagine #almost a thousand years #jack the ripper #fluff #victorian era #fake dating #aaty #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux #douxie #toa hisirdoux #toa douxie

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craftypeaceturtle · 3 years

Text

A is for Arrival...?

Summary: Remus and Janus are shopping ready for the new arrival for their family.

Note: The start of an AU and series because I’m just a sucker for any type of familiar sides. Romantic Demus and Royality.

Next Part: B is for Baby Time

“Hey Jay?” Remus suddenly stopped; his eyes enormous.

“Yes, dear?” Janus put on a dramatic Victorian tone, his spine straightening with his hand frozen poised with the packet of washing up sponges.

“Do we need to get birthday stuff?” Janus immediately scrunched his face, “No wait! Listen. You celebrate your kid’s birthday every year so surely you celebrate his first ever one ever. Right?”

Janus stared into the distance as he dropped the sponges on the floor, “Call your brother.”

“No,” Remus whined but still pulled up his phone and promptly shoved it into Janus’ chest, “He’ll only make fun of me if I ask it. If you ask it, then maybe he’ll presume he’s the stupid!”

“Did he celebrate Logan’s first ever ever birthday? What would you even call it? First day of existence?” Janus frowned as he speed dialled the number.

“If he did, he didn’t invite me!” Remus shrugged before picking up the sponges. He immediately crowded into Janus and smooshed himself into his shoulder.

They picked up on the second ring, Patton’s sigh answering. Something that they probably weren’t supposed to hear. “Hello Roman. We just have a quick question,” Janus chirped.

“Hey Janus. It’s Patton by the way. Wow, another question, huh?” Patton, meanwhile, gave Roman a stern look and thrusted the phone at him again. Roman pulled a face as he shrugged and ducked back down behind the sofa. Frowning, he put it on speaker so they could both suffer, “What did you want to ask?”

“Should we celebrate our baby’s first ever day? Like a birthday but for their very very first birthday?”

“What!” Roman shrieked before leaping back on to the sofa; ever so suddenly finding the strength to talk.

“What do you mean ‘what’! God, he’s such a douche,” Remus muttered.

“I’m a douche, oh am I? Why would you celebrate a baby’s first ever day. It’s their first ever day in this world! They get overwhelmed and scared so easily. It’s a big scary world out there and you’re going to shove a party in their face! The baby is barely old enough to move it’s own hands! It’s a baby!” Roman complained while Patton giggled.

“To treat this seriously for a second, when you finally get your baby, the very last thing you want to do is mess around too much. After all this time, all that waiting, you finally get this tiny fragile baby. A tiny itty bitty baby. All you’ll want to do is just sit there and watch them quietly. A party is the last thing you’ll think to do. Heh, me and Roman even forgot to eat that day and only remembered hours later,” Patton spoke softly with his own memories uplifting his annoyance. Roman smiled and knocked their shoulders together.

“...So is it worth buying like finger food in case we forget to eat?” Remus interrupted.

“Uh... yeah? I mean, yeah that would work,” Roman fumbled.

“Okay. Cheers. Bye!” Remus called out while Janus rolled his eyes, “Wow. We really need to get them something for putting up with all this.”

“Well I’m going to keep talking to them, you weirdo.” Janus ran his hand through Remus’ crazed curls but he was quickly shrugged off as Remus went to evaluate which bleach was best for their toilet, “How are you two?”

“Yeah, all’s good here! Just your typical day, what are you doing?” Patton chirped.

“Baby shopping mixed with some normal shopping. Extremely exciting, I’m sure you’re jealous,” Janus felt his voice go soft at just the mere mention of his coming baby.

“Aww! That’s so sweet,” Patton sighed, “I miss that so much about Logie. Baby clothes shopping is the only reason worth becoming a dad.”

“Oh Pat! Such slander, I’m impressed,” Janus laughed.

“Oh hush! Everyone knows that baby clothes are the best cutest things in existence. Aw, are you going to buy Halloween clothes! Me and Roman saw some adorable skeleton onesies today and I came this close to buying it for the baby.”

“Yeah, I think at this point we’ve bought him more Halloween clothes than normal baby stuff. That’s the whole reason we still have to do some shopping. There were these pumpkin shoes and socks. Oh Pat! I swear if I wasn’t so macho and cool, I would’ve cried. Baby shoes are just so tiny!” Remus raised a brow at his squealing voice. But then he also knew exactly what Janus was talking about just from his tone alone. Those shoes were actually pretty cute.

“They are right! Aw, do you know any more about the baby?”

“Well...” Janus drawled while Remus took a breath. They agreed that Janus was going to deal with this breaking news.

“We met up with the mother yesterday.”

“Oh! My! Oh! Oh, Jayjay! That’s amazing! How was she?” Remus quickly snatched the phone and flicked it to speaker. Janus raised a brow at him but he was only met with the most mischievous smirk back. He frowned but turned back to continue talking only now with Patton’s voice squeaking out across the aisle.

“She looked exhausted. I felt so bad for her. Meeting up for a coffee looked like the very last thing she wanted to do,” Remus said.

“Bless her,” Janus sighed, “She was lovely.”

“Aw, that’s good. We never really got to meet our surrogate, how come yours wanted to meet?”

“Well, she apparently had a bit of a health scare. All is good! Everything is all good! But she just wanted to sit down with us and actually go through everything that happened. So we sat and talked about the health of the baby. Again, all is good obviously. But... so... we may or may not have found out our baby’s gender,” Janus winced once the squeal erupted over the phone. Remus cackled at the amount of people who turned to look at them with dirty looks before he turned the speaker off again. Ah, yes wouldn’t be a trip to the shops if Remus couldn’t spread some mild chaos.

“What’s their gender!” Patton screamed before launching up from the sofa. Roman was giggling as Patton jumped up and down and spun him around.

“We’re having a boy!” Janus smiled. He would deny the glow in his chest for this rest of his life but he couldn’t help but grab Remus’ hand. Remus smiled, thankfully, and squeezed his hand with his own lovesick smile. Their baby boy.

“Oh a boy!” Patton squealed high enough for dogs.

“Typical, not one girl in this entire family,” Roman chuckled.

“Oh congrats guys! When’s the due date again?” Patton sighed.

“10th of December. I almost feel bad for the boy. He’s going to have to put up with the whole Christmas birthday combination.”

“I’m still upset that he wasn’t a Halloween baby,” Remus frowned.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Janus finally hung up. They were still holding hands- they would look exactly like a couple from a lovey film if they actually dressed like normal people rather than Disney villains. All they needed to do now grab was some more normal baby outfits. A very simple easy task. Just look at some clothes and chose some cute functional clothes.

But every single time... every single time, they would find the most abnormal baby outfits possible. That and they always spent a good ten solid minutes of staring at the tiny shoes. They looked like build-a-bear shoes. They didn’t even look real.

“I can’t wait until he arrives,” Remus mumbled as he picked up a hideous orange dinosaur patterned jumper set. Janus tried to hide the smile but he quickly placed his head on his shoulder as they stood there.

“Neither can I. He can’t come soon enough. Just like how you can’t put back that gross set soon enough.”

“You don’t like it! I think it’s cute.” Remus tilted his head as if that made it cuter.

“He’s so not going to be an orange baby.”

“You don’t know that! Does he even need a colour?”

“You’ve got green, I like yellow. He also needs a colour. While we can still have control over what he wears at least,” Janus stated like Remus was a toddler trying to argue that the sky was green.

“So we both have our ugly colours. Then he also needs an ugly colour too! Orange is a disgusting colour!” Remus thrusted the jumper in his face.

“Oh totally exactly, dear,” Janus rolled his eyes before he then felt the passion erupt from him, “Okay. Firstly, for your information, yellow is a beautiful colour thank you very much. You’re the one that chose the grossest colour of green to embrace. He can have purple,” Janus winced as he guided Remus’ hand back down to the shelf.

“Purple?”

“Yes. A beautiful colour. Not only does it screw over superfluous ridiculous gender roles, it also is close enough to match our dress senses,” Janus stated with a proud look. Remus opened his mouth but then snapping it shut with a respectful nod. Yep, that sounded like a plan.

They eventually found some normal tiny eeny weeny pair of jeans and they used all of their collective strength to stay clear of all the Halloween clothes and bought some presentable jumpers. Janus was finally starting to get fed up with standing around in a shop before he realised that Remus’ eyes kept flicking to a shelf behind them.

He never made any move to actually go look at whatever it was and he never mentioned it. Janus found every reason to keep looking at the same pairs of stripey socks to give him time but he still said nothing. It was so uncommon that Remus felt shy about suggesting something. What could be the harm? “What you looking at?” Janus asked while exaggeratedly turning around.

“Um... I just noticed...” Remus drawled off. It was just a discount shelf. It was stacked with just random broken items that clearly no one ever take any interest in. Remus shyly sulked up to it and pushed aside the chipped mugs and torn notebooks without any hesitation. He pulled up a baby blanket.

It was the exact same incredibly soft material all baby stuff was made from. The stuff where your hand magnetised to its softness. It was a quilted baby blanket in a pastel lilac. It was cute but it wouldn’t be on a discounted shelf without reason. There was a large smudge of black marker on its corner. But as Remus held it up, Janus laughed. It wasn’t quilted. It was sewn to be a spider web pattern around the blanket. Clearly an old Halloween gimmick.

He turned to ask if Remus was all ready to go then and was immediately punched in the stomach. Remus was all teary eyed and awkwardly looking anywhere but him. His fingers brushed through the blanket over and over again.

“Oh Reem,” Janus cooed and tugged the blanket from his grasp but he didn’t let go.

“I don’t even know why I’m tearing up!” Remus pressed his arms against his face. Janus felt himself tearing up as well. Something about how Remus’ voice would go all wobbly and pitchy when he was on the edge of tears just always got to him, “Just... oh this is so fucking stupid.”

“Well you’ve got us both crying in a shop at 9 in the morning. I’d say it sounds pretty dumb,” Janus smiled.

“Just... he could be our little spider. Just like how I’m your octopus and you’re my snake,” Remus’ voice was practically crumbling away. Janus felt a disgusting childish tear slip down his face.

“Oh Reem.” Janus hugged him, only so he didn’t have to experience the embarrassment of people seeing his husband’s gross taste in blankets of course.

“How much spider stuff have we bought him! Like that would be perfect. And this is purple and spider!” Remus felt a tear escape his control too but he just buried his nose in Janus’ hair.

“Oh you are such a nightmare of a husband. I’m taking you back to the husband shop and refunding you,” Janus groaned, he broke away and snatched the blanket from his grasp and shoved it into their trolley. At least it was cheap. Plus they would probably end up staining it with gross new born baby vomit anyway.

#My writing #sanders sides #deceit sanders #Janus Sanders #remus sanders #fluffy #fanfic #roman sanders #patton sanders #demus #royality

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kumeko · 3 years

Text

A/N: For the @furubazine! I wanted to give Kyoko her dues, I just love the snippets of the past we get in the series.

…

When she was younger, Kyoko hadn’t been big on traditions. Customs like that had to be taught at childhood, had to be given importance and love to carry through to adulthood. There had been no one to teach her to care and so she hadn’t. Birthdays were just another day to trudge through, holidays an extra day to sleep in, and gifts were always given by oneself.

Then came Katsuya and his sly smirks, Tohru and her big eyes, and now all Kyoko had were traditions. There were big ones, like birthdays and test results, where they’d grab a special treat from the bakery nearby. Small ones, like the morning goodbye and the bedtime kiss. There were so many, many ways to let a person know I love you and Kyoko never tired of finding a new one.

Even a visit to her husband’s grave was one steeped with routine. Standing at the gated entrance to the graveyard, she waited patiently as her father-in-law ambled toward her, a soft smile on his face. Dressed in a suit, he looked more put together than the absent-minded grandpa who liked to cuddle with Tohru in the kotatsu.

“Kyoko!” Noticing her, he waved as he came to a stop in front of the gate. His sleeves were slightly wet from cleaning the grave. “Right on time, I see.”

“What, is he taking appointments now?” Kyoko asked, raising a brow. If the dead could talk to the living, she could picture him doing it too. He’d probably even ask for money.

Her father-in-law chuckled, a raspy sound. She’s only ever known him for his kindness, for his soft edges, and it was strange to think that at one point, Katsuya couldn’t bear the man. “No, nothing of the sort. He’s grateful for any visitor, I’m sure.”

“That’s not the man I married.” Kyoko snorted, shaking her head. It wasn’t hard to remember how much he teased her, his lips curling into a playful smirk as she fumed. While she wasn’t sure where Tohru got her naïve personality, she was grateful she hadn’t picked up anything from her father aside from his polite speech. It would have been hell having two Katsuyas.

She wished she still had one.

Forcing a smile, she crossed her arms and asked, “You know, you could always come with us. You don’t have to visit alone.”

Perhaps reading her mind, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. “After all those years apart, I need a little alone time with him. Though, he’s as talkative as ever.”

Kyoko guffawed. Her father-in-law was a riot, and she could see the traces of her husband in him. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Smiling, he stepped away. While he was getting older, Kyoko was certain that all of his wrinkles were from laughing. She could only hope it would be the same for her when she grew old. “I’ll see you for dinner?”

Another tradition. Kyoko nodded. “My cooking’s improved since last time. Maybe not as good as Tohru’s, but nothing is.”

Her father-in-law laughed as he headed away. “As long as I don’t join him today, it’ll be fine.”

She almost didn’t want to wave goodbye. Really, in that cruel honesty, he was just like his son. Would Katsuya have looked the same if he’d reached that age? Grey-haired and balding, his sides round from eating too many of Tohru’s dishes. Before she could linger on the idea, on the image of her husband as anything less than handsome, Kyoko heard a familiar voice calling her name. Turning around, she smiled brightly. “Tohru!”

“Mom!” Tohru waved back eagerly, her long skirt swishing around her heels as she trotted down the street. In her hands was a wicker basket, filled to the brim with this morning’s cooking. All as usual.

What was different, however, were the three people following her. Hanajima, Uotani, and Megumi trailed after, all dressed casually as they looked around curiously. Well, Kyoko assumed it was casual wear—it was hard to tell with Hanajima and Megumi sometimes. The siblings looked like they’d stepped out of a Victorian funeral and it was impressive on so many levels, not the least how hot it must be in the August heat. “You just missed Grandpa.”

“Oh no.” Tohru’s jaw fell open. Her eyes darted everywhere in a desperate attempt to catch his back. When she didn’t see him, she hunched over, depressed. “I should have come earlier,” she moaned.

“It’s fine.” It was impossible to resist the urge to hug her adorable daughter and Kyoko immediately gave in to the impulse. As she wrapped her arms around Tohru, she glanced at the others and smiled. “I’m glad you all could make it.”

Uotani brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, looking awkward. Maybe it was the way she held herself, her gangly body looking like it wanted to curl up and disappear, but Kyoko felt like she was looking at a younger version of herself. While she had no idea how Tohru came to be, she knew intimately what it took to make an Uotani. “Are…are you sure we should be here?” She peeked at the graveyard, then back at Kyoko. “Shouldn’t this be a family thing?”

“Are you saying you aren’t family?” she asked, raising a brow. Uotani flushed, looking both pleased and flustered, and Kyoko chuckled. “It’s about time Katsuya paid attention to Tohru’s life.”

Tohru nodded happily, still buried in Kyoko’s arms. “I want you to meet him!” she chimed in, her voice muffled.

“See? Not a problem.” Kyoko paused. “Unless, you don’t want to come?”

“No, that’s not…” Uotani was a bright red now.

While she floundered, Megumi pushed forward. “I’m in the company of four gorgeous ladies. I’ll stay.”

“Are you sure you’re in elementary school?” Kyoko asked, finally letting go of Tohru. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the wink he gave when he said that or the way that his expression and tone stayed flat the entire time.

“He’s very wise for his age,” Hanajima explained, looking as cool as a cucumber as she entered the graveyard.

“I could say the same about you,” Kyoko replied wryly. Tohru’s friends were an odd bunch. Katsuya would have loved them.

“Ready, Mom?” Tohru asked, grabbing her hand.

Kyoko felt herself melting again, but this time she resisted the urge to hug. She had to have some semblance of self-control, otherwise, they wouldn’t get anywhere today. “Yeah.”

The Honda family grave was already clean, the stone gleaming in the sun. Several white lilies were laid in front of it, a gift no doubt from her father-in-law. Setting down her picnic basket, Tohru dashed toward the buckets. “I’ll get the water.”

“Should I help?” Uotani asked, uncertain as she turned from the grave to her friend and then back again.

“The water isn’t that heavy.” Kyoko knelt in front of the grave, her fingers brushing the stone lightly. How strange. They hadn’t had that many years together, in the end, and she was now more familiar with the feel of stone than her husband’s hand. Tohru must remember even less, if she even remembered anything at all, and Kyoko’s heart ached. Lost time, lost chances, a void that never had the chance to exist.

Setting out three incense sticks, Kyoko slowly lit each one. Standing up once more, she said, in a stronger voice than she’d expected, “Katsuya, these are Tohru’s friends.”

“Hi?” Uotani mumbled, even more bemused. Gingerly she lifted her hands, looking like she wasn’t sure if she should wave or pray and she’d tried to do both.

Megumi nodded his greeting. “Hello.”

Looking up, Hanajima stared at the sky for a few minutes. Her smile was mysterious before she finally nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Was it? part of Kyoko wanted to ask. It was impossible to speak to the dead, but that didn’t feel like the case with Hanajima. The more she learned about her waves, the less she understood.

“I’m back!” Lugging a heavy bucket, the water spilling over the top, Tohru struggled toward the grave. “Sorry I took so long.”

“Tohru!” Uotani scrambled toward her, quickly taking the bucket out of her hands. “I’ll take that.”

“I can’t let y…” More water splashed over the edge, hitting the bottom of her skirt. Biting her lip, Tohru reluctantly handed the bucket to Uotani. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Uotani grinned as she held the bucket with a hand. “See? It’s nothing, really.”

Kyoko watched as the pair sprinkled water over the grave. There were very few things she could deny Tohru, so it hadn’t even been a question when her daughter had asked if her friends could tag along. It had been a good idea. “You know, you should pray to him for your marks.”

“What do you mean?” Uotani asked, looking over her shoulder curiously.

“He was a teacher, after all. And very smart. Maybe he’ll slip in your dreams and give you all the test answers,” Kyoko explained, trying hard to keep a straight face. Her husband had never been that kind, and any help he gave would be trapped inside a riddle. “And looking at your grades, you need it. You have to get into high school, after all.”

Stricken, Tohru gulped. “That…we can do that…”

Uotani already had her hands clasped, her lips silently mouthing out many, many prayers. Kyoko covered her mouth, forcing her laugh to turn into a cough. Only Hanajima and Megumi didn’t move and when she turned toward them with an inquisitive look, Hanajima only smiled. “You can’t cure my stupidity.”

“She’s actually really smart,” Megumi added, hands in his pockets. “She just has to be motivated.”

“And he’s always very smart,” Hanajima fondly added, her eyes soft as she looked at her brother. “Besides, we’re not good at riddles.”

“Oh.” Had she read her mind? Kyoko wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer to that question. Instead, she pulled out a blanket from the forgotten basket and spread it out on the stone ground.

“What are you doing?” Uotani hissed, glancing around furtively.

“Setting up for lunch?” Kyoko answered slowly, her lip twitching slightly as she bit back her laugh.

“Here?” For an ex-gang member, Uotani was surprisingly serious sometimes.

“Yeah, we’re eating with him. We’re celebrating his memory, after all.” Kyoko knelt next to the basket and pulled out Tohru’s carefully prepared bentos. When Uotani still looked troubled, she patted on the blanket. “You don’t want Tohru’s hard work to go to waste, do you?”

Having no such qualms, Megumi already grabbed a bento and opened it. “Wow, you made all this?”

“Yes!” Tohru sat eagerly next to him and grabbed another one. “And there’s some karaage in here if you want.”

“Your cooking is as tasty as ever,” Hanajima complimented, sitting on her other side and effectively sandwiching Tohru between her and her brother.

It was a lost battle. Grumbling, Uotani sat down and held out her hand. “I’m hungry anyways.”

The graveyard was filled with sound, a stark contrast to the usual silence when it had just been her and Tohru visiting Katsuya. Kyoko liked it better this way. Maybe this would become yet another tradition, a lively one that kept friends and family close no matter what boundaries separated them.

“As you can see,” Kyoko murmured to her husband, “Tohru’s made some really good friends.”

And though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was smirking at her, the bastard.

#tohru honda #kyoko honda #arisa uotani #fruits basket #furuba #saki hanajima #megumi hanajima #fanfic

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scaryscarecrows · 3 years

Text

Will Trade Soup for Intel

Potential Gotham Knights ‘verse. For those who did not see the trailer: Bruce is dead (pfft, suuuuure he is), Jim Gordon is dead (Jim, no!), the Court of Owls appears (this is gonna be bad), Batgirl and Robins 1-3 have guardianship of Gotham. For this piece: Penguin is also dead. Dove has his operation. And the flu. :p

***

Tim’s not sure where he thought Jason was going to take him. Honestly, because it’s Jason, he was sort of thinking, ‘seedy hole in the wall where retired hitmen go’. Or something. Or maybe an orphanage, or an under-the-bridge camp; the Alley Kids don’t throw bottles and needles at him, unlike the others. They demand rides.

(Yeah, it’s funny but also scary to see the Red Hood, known for his duffle bag of heads, giving a little girl a piggyback ride.)

This is not one of those places. This is some apartment building in midtown with a doorman and everything. And, y’know, it’s daytime, which...they don’t operate in the daytime that much unless they’re undercover, and they don’t appear to be. Jason told Tim to dress like a real boy and stick his domino on in the elevator, but he’s wearing what he always does; jeans, hoodie, heavy boots. And he’s carrying a brown bag that smells like soup. No helmet in sight, and Tim knows he won’t wear a domino now. They bug the scar*, he says.

“Where are we?”

“To see an old friend. I’m out of other ideas.”

“What, are they a conspiracy professor or something?”

“No.”

The doorman waves them through and they wait for an empty elevator. Jason presses the third-floor button and settles in, adjusting the bag in his arms. For all the crap they give...gave...Bruce about theatrics, Jason’s no better. He lives for building the suspense. Tim had nearly murdered him again for that stupid monk joke. Asshole. Ten minutes from his life, and for that? Humph.

A cotton face mask whaps him in the chest while he’s adjusting his domino and he frowns.

“What.”

“You’re fragile, and she’s got the flu, which is why we’re here in the daytime. I’m basically immune after my, um, upgrade points got cashed in, but you are a Victorian maiden who'll probably turn it into tuberculosis and die and I can’t deal with Dick after that.”

Huh.

…

Whatever. You lose one spleen…

He puts the mask on, too, making sure Jason sees his glower, just as the elevator dings to a halt.

Tim starts to suspect they’re not invited, exactly, when Jason shoves the bag at him and drops down to pick the lock. Though he does knock and call, “Don’t get up!”, so.

“There. Give me that before you spill something...hey, Miss Marquis! I brought soup!”

…

Jason couldn’t have just told him this, why?

There’s furious coughing in the other room, followed by movement, and a minute later Dove shuffles out, wrapped in a blanket and wearing what appear to be bunny slippers. She looks terrible.

“For the tenth time, I don’t care how immune you think you are, you’re going to get sick and I can take care of myself.”

“Haven’t gotten sick yet,” Jason says cheerfully. “‘Sides, it’s, like, partly a bribe.”

Dove doesn’t look convinced. Tim’s not convinced, either. Jason, when left to his own devices, can and will out-mother-hen Dick. He’s just usually scarier when he does it. More like Alfred.

Before any further argument can happen, Dove starts coughing again and winds up clutching the doorframe with one hand and holding the other up to keep Jason at bay.

“Thought you were gonna take Theraflu,” Jason says sulkily. Dove reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I will take it if I need it, Hood.” Tim sympathizes. Theraflu tastes like sadness. At least Robitussin is nice. “I promise this isn’t my first flu, I am fine. ” This is not a battle she’ll win. Tim knows. Tim has tried and failed. Jason had loomed at him and told him, oh-so-nicely, that he would take the Theraflu or that it would breach his defenses. “What do you want.”

Jason holds up the bag.

“Fridge or bowl?”

“Fridge, please.”

“Tea?”

“If I say yes, will you settle down?”

“For now.”

She sighs and totters over to an armchair.

“Fine.”

“What kind.”

“I’ve got some sort of zinger tea in there, that would be very nice.”

Jason vanishes into the kitchen. Dove sinks into her chair, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders, and waves at the couch.

“Siddown, Robin.”

“Sorry we broke in,” he says, because Jason won’t. Dove just shakes her head.

“This isn’t the first time or the last time,” she says. “At least you used the door...if you need a drink or somethin’, help yourself.”

Jason comes back, steaming mug in his hands.

“I’ll get it,” he says. “Bird boy here shouldn’t touch the kitchen.”

Slander.

“Nightwing’s worse.”

“Still. Here y’go.”

“Thanks, honey.” Dove leans up to take it before shooing him back. “Now. Why are you here.”

Jason settles onto the couch next to Tim and leans forward, worrying at his lower lip.

“This is going to sound crazy.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“Do you know anything about the Court of Owls?”

Dove snorts, coughs, and takes a sip of her tea.

“What?”

“You know…beware the court of owls that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed. Speak not a whispered word of them--”

“Or they’ll send the Talon for your head, I know the rhyme.” She takes another sip. “It’s a scary story to keep kids in line, you know that.”

“We thought so, but.” He shrugs. “”Had a run-in with...something...last night that, um. Looked a little dead. But not dead like me, dead like...I don’t know. It was like it wasn’t human anymore. Or ever. I don’t know.”

Well, that’s a surprise. Tim wonders if Jason just straight-up admitted what happened or if Dove got it out of him or from some other source.

“Croc’s not human, either, kid.”

“No. This thing...I didn’t...I broke its neck and it fucking twisted it back into place.”

Dove frowns.

“You’re sure?”

“Uh-huh. And before that I emptied literally twelve bullets into this thing and it didn’t even flinch. I’m telling you, something wasn’t right and it was wearing an owl mask.”

Tim nods.

“There have been four murders committed with daggers that have owl insignias on them,” he says. “We think these two things are related.”

“Owl daggers?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I see one?”

“I brought a picture. The daggers are police evidence.”

“Like you boys didn’t borrow one,” she says, but sits up when Jason comes over with the phone. “I’ve seen something like this before.”

Well, that was unexpected.

“When?”

“Years ago, now. Penguin had one that he got from who-knows-where. It went missing one night-we chalked it up to Catwoman and let it go-but we did have people offer to buy it a few times. Generous offers, too.”

“He wouldn’t sell?” Odd. Penguin loved money almost as much as his pet birds. “Can you remember who offered?”

“Rich men, you know the type. They like...oddities.”

Tim does know the type. During Dick’s stint as Batman, he’d stumbled upon an auction house that specialized in some nasty things, including a very particular crowbar.

(Jason, as far as Tim knows, has no idea about this.)

“Did he say anything about it?”

“No. He put it in his office, in a little case, and honestly, I sort of figured someone had tried to kill him with it. He was funny about things like that.”

That’s an understatement. Penguin had been very proud of the bottle in his eye, among other things.

Dove starts coughing again and ends up setting her tea on the end table. Jason’s halfway over there when the coughs turn to sputters and she manages to wheeze out a, “Fine. M’fine.”

“This is why you should take Theraflu.”

“Honey…”

“I can make--”

“Hon.” He shuts up. “I’m okay. It’s just the flu, give me another week and I’ll be back to normal.” She takes a shuddery breath and picks up her tea again. “I promise. Now. I don’t.” Another shuddery breath, but no coughing this time. “I don’t know anything else off the top of my head, but. Little fuzzy.” She tugs at her blanket until it’s closed around her neck, just under her chin. “If anything comes up, I’ll let you know-ow- shit --”

The coughs don’t stop this time and she winds up bent nearly double, arms curled up to, presumably, brace her ribs. Ouch. When they finally wane, she’s red-faced and wheezing and looking fairly well miserable. Tim’s just about to nudge Jason when she stands up, clutching her mug in white, shaky fingers, and says, “I am going back to bed. Lock up behind yourselves.”

“Can we do anything?”

“No, hon. But thanks. You boys.” A finger goes up and she sort of... hics ...but nothing happens. “You boys stay safe. Don’t do anything. Anything reckless.”

Reckless? Humph. They’re not reckless. Adventurous, is Tim’s preferred term. So one time he leapt off a building knowing his grappler wasn’t working. Dick caught him, like he knew he would. It was leap or be eaten, and being eaten was by far the uglier choice.

“Reckless? Us?” Jason mock-gasps. “Thanks. Soup’s in the fridge. Want me to make you a Thera--”

“ No. Thank you.”

THE END

*I’m debating on whether or not that scar is Joker-related (could be an aborted Glasgow?) OR Batarang-caused: maybe Bruce hit his face rather than his throat in this version of UtRH. Either way, ow.

#Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Dove Marquis #Gotham Knights #maybe #Court of Owls #fic

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adenei · 4 years

Note

Could you write about Ron and Hermione going to a Halloween party and wearing a matching couples costume please 🥺

Hi Hufflepuff Pixie! Or do you prefer Pixie Puff (as I feel like I’ve seen on my feed from other mutuals?) Ah, no matter! Thanks for the ask! Once I got past the writer’s block of the actual costumes, this was a fun one to write! Hope you enjoy!

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

Halloween at the Hog’s Head

“Hermione, are you sure this was a good costume choice?” Ron asked as he was looking in the mirror. He was dressed in a grey button up under his black dress suit. He was reluctantly tying a red scarf around his neck, and then placing a Gatsby hat on his head.

“Of course it’s a good costume choice!” Hermione came out of the bathroom dressed in a pleated maxi skirt, ruffled white blouse and red bow tie under a peplum blazer, and fedora with Gerber daisies hot glued to it. She went to the bed where she sat down to put on the Victorian boots she’d acquired for her costume.

“I just don’t see how this makes sense. We’re going to have to explain who we are to everyone at the Hog’s Head. Most witches and wizards have no idea about muggle movies,” Ron shook his head.

“Ron, you’re the one who wanted to dress up. You know I don’t really enjoy the whole costume scene. I’d much rather dress up as a movie character than some of those completely rubbish punny costumes. I think being Mary Poppins and Bert is a clever idea. You love muggle movies, and this was one of my favorites growing up. The book and the movie,” Hermione tried to reassure him.

“Yeah. Fits us, too. You’re the uptight rule follower that quietly loves the whimsy of the adventure while I’m the more laid-back, all for it type” Ron said with a lopsided grin.

“Just for that, now you’re definitely getting the charcoal makeup on your face,” Hermione shot back playfully. She got up and grabbed the eye shadow, and brushed some on various parts of his face. Hermione was almost done, and then doubled back to put a little smudge on his nose.

“Hey! Bert doesn’t have soot on his nose.” Ron went to wipe it off with his arm, but Hermione grabbed his arm to stop him.

“No! Leave it, please?” she asked him.

“Why?” Ron furrowed his eyebrows as he asked.

“Because it reminds me of the first day on the train. When I told you that you had dirt on your nose.” Her cheeks felt hot as they flushed with color.

They’d been together for a little over two years, but Hermione still became embarrassed sometimes when she made the realizations that she had been looking that closely at him as early as that first day on the train. Ron’s face softened as he leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips.

“It’s really quite adorable when you admit that you were staring when we were younger,” he smiled. “Should we get going then? Harry and Ginny are probably there already.”

Hermione checked her watch. “Oh, yes! We are running late. Grab your chimney sweep!” she said as she grabbed the carpet bag she’d rummaged out of her parent’s attic earlier that week, and they made their way to the fireplace.

They flooed to the party at the Hog’s Head minutes later, which was already in full swing. Aberforth was tending bar and had managed to acquire a band to play for the evening. All of their friends were there, and Ron and Hermione made their way through to the bar for a drink before finding Harry and Ginny at a table.

“It’s about time you lot showed up,” Ginny said as they sat down. It looked as though she and Harry were dressed as Ariel and Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid.

“Nice costumes!” Hermione complimented. “And here Ron thought we’d be the only ones dressed up as muggle movie characters.” She gave Ron a look.

“What can I say, Hermione? Looks like we’ve converted them both into movie lovers,” Harry said as they laughed.

“Ariel’s just so relatable! She’s fun, knows absolutely nothing about muggle objects on land, and is fiercely independent, like me,” Ginny laughed.

“Well, that’s good for you,” Harry grumbled.

“Oh come on, Harry, like you haven’t always wanted to be a Prince?” Ron sniggered.

They continued to fall into an easy banter as Neville and Luna joined them, and other former classmates stopped by to say hello. At one point they got up to go participate in a Butterbeer Pong tournament. Ironically, Ron and Ginny ditched Harry and Hermione to be partners because they were an unstoppable team when they got going.

Hermione was fine with it as she and Harry mingled and sipped on their drinks, enjoying being on the sidelines of the game after they’d been eliminated fairly quickly. They made their way back over to the finals as Ron and Ginny took on Seamus and Dean. They were neck and neck until Dean missed a shot and Ginny sunk hers. The whole bar roared in applause and Aberforth shot them a dirty look.

The band started playing soon after and Ron and Hermione made their way to the dance floor. “This is fun,” Hermione said as they moved to the music, their bodies pressed against each other.

“You think so? I didn’t think you were going to enjoy this much. I know you don’t like crowds,” Ron commented.

“Yes, well, it’s not so bad when I get to stare at a fine looking chimney sweep all night,” she said seductively.

“That right? Have I done a decent job of ‘sweeping’ you off your feet?” Ron waggled his eyebrows at the pun. She playfully hit his arm as he pulled her in for a long kiss.

They reluctantly broke apart, and at that moment in time, Hermione decided that she didn’t want to be on the dance floor anymore. She discreetly looked around, and noticed some of the booths in the back of the bar that looked unoccupied. Hermione knew it was too early to leave yet, but they could disappear for a while, and hopefully no one would notice.

“You know, you’ve got a little something on your nose there,” Hermione raised her eyebrows at him as she gave him a look. “Maybe you could go take care of it in the loo, then meet me back there at one of the empty booths?”

He eyed her as if to catch her meaning before saying, “I think that’s a brilliant idea! Be right there,” as he kissed her cheek.

Hermione went to the bar to get them two more drinks, and made her way to the back of the room. It was a bit quieter away from the band, and she saw the top of Ron’s hat around the booth in the back left corner. She walked over and set the drinks down on the table before sliding into the seat next to him.

They wasted no time locking lips as Ron managed to pull her on top of him and unbuttoned her blazer, sliding it off her shoulders. “Ron,” against his mouth,” We can’t do that. Not here.” She’d observed that he’d lost his own suit coat and the scarf.

“I wasn’t meaning that we had to. It’s bloody warm in here and you can barely move your arms in that. We wouldn’t want to rip it,” Ron responded.

“Good point,” Hermione said, and then their lips met again as they continued to snog heavily in the back of the bar.

After a while they heard someone clear their throat and they broke apart to see Harry looking disgusted at them. “Last I checked you do have a place to go home to if you wanted to do that.”

“It’s too early to go home yet,” Hermione said as she grabbed her blazer and slid off of Ron’s lap and out of the booth. Ron reached for the rest of his own costume and put it back on.

“Yeah, we were just taking a break, mate. You and Ginny were off with Nev and Hannah, so we just snuck away for a bit. We didn’t ditch you or anything,” Ron assured him.

“Yeah, well they’re about to start the costume contest, so I figured you two might want to rejoin for that,” Harry told them.

“Er, yes, thank you, Harry,” Hermione said. She and Ron shared guilty smiles as they grabbed their drinks, and followed Harry back to the main room.

They may not have won the costume contest, but Hermione still deemed their choices a success. A group of students who were a couple of years younger than them took the prize for dressing as some of the professors at Hogwarts. They’re costumes were quite impressive. Neville had even thought that the person dressed as Professor McGonagall was the actual Professor McGonagall.

“I still think ours were better,” Ron said to Hermione as they made their way back to the table with Harry and Ginny to enjoy one more drink before calling it a night.

“I guess that means we’ll just have to be more clever next year,” Hermione said with a smile.

“Does that mean you’ll be willing to dress up again?” Ron asked hopefully. Hermione responded only with a smile as they continued on with the rest of their night.

#romione #side hinny #hp post war

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

united we stand || s.r

summary: in which you, sam, steve, and natasha are forced to go on the run after civil war. unfortunately, being a fugitive with government officials out for his blood doesn’t seem to stop the great captain america from falling even more in love with you.

words: ~2.5k

warnings: slight angst, sam and natasha being matchmakers, fluff

a/n: OMG IM SORRY THIS ONE WAS SO POORLY WRITTEN ADLFJDSF

It doesn't have to come down to this, Tony. Look what you're doing. You're tearing the Avengers apart."

"You did that when you sided with Cap, Y/N."

"What do we do now?"

"We fight."

"He's my friend."

"So was I."

"He killed our parents, Y/N. And you're still willing to take his side? I thought I could trust you. But I guess I can't even rely on my own judgement anymore to make decisions, can I?"

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you jumped from rooftop to rooftop, a dull ache forming at the edges of your skull due to all the thoughts rushing around in your brain and narrowly escaping a flurry of over two dozen of General Ross's men.

Guilt settled in the pit of your stomach, making your insides churn. You turned against the last family you had left, and now you were paying the price.

You're one hundred percent sure that Tony hates your guts at this point. Leaving your brother for someone else; what had you become?

"What now?" Sam asked, looking around and sending Redwing out to survey your surroundings for any other agents that could be approaching. "What's our next step?"

"We gotta catch a train. Belfast's no longer safe for us," Steve panted as he slid his shield over his back, trying to catch his breath. "Our safety's already compromised as it is."

"Nat's gonna go get the tickets, I'll buy us some disguises. We're less likely to be recognized because you guys are all suited up with your wings and shield," you explained. "Wait here."

A few minutes later you were all dressed inconspicuously in your new disguises, looking like the other civilians that were walking around. You didn't have enough time to check the sizes of the clothing, so Steve ended up wearing some jeans and a light grey T-shirt that was about a size too small for him, outlining every inch of his toned torso.

You quickly tore your gaze away before anyone noticed you staring. Sam caught this, however, and sent you a little wink. You glared at him in response.

"The next train to Glasgow leaves in nine. We gotta hurry," Natasha said as she handed you your tickets. "Come on."

Luckily you weren't recognized as the ticket holder came around, though you tried to keep your heads down low when she passed by.

"It's a 14 hour ride. You fellas might wanna relax, take a nap or something," she said, reclining her seat back and closing her eyes. "We won't be arriving until early tomorrow morning."

You relaxed in your seat, the tension in your muscles loosening a bit. But Steve saw the distressed look in your eyes and placed a gentle hand on top of yours.

"You alright?"

"Could be better, I mean, it's not like I chose to be a fugitive on the run from the entire world," you joked, but the smirk on your face quickly fell. "No. I'm not."

"It's going to be okay, you know. Things'll work out in the end."

"I sure hope so."

You fell into an awkward silence after that, resting your chin on your hand as you stared out ahead, watching the rolling hills whiz by in a blur, the vibrant green a sharp contrast to the powdery blue sky. Ireland was a beautiful country, really. You wished you could stay longer purely for the sake of admiring all the lovely scenery.

"You know, if you just want to talk about anything, we can do that. 14 hours is a pretty long train ride," he finally spoke up about an hour later. Sam was fast asleep at this point, mouth opened slightly as his head rested on Natasha's shoulder, who was sleeping as well.

"Yeah, it is. But we've had worse days, right?"

"We have," Steve agreed.

So you just talked, about whatever came to your minds. Your childhood, your past before joining the Avengers Initiative where you'd previously served as one of SHIELD's top agents for several years, Steve's life back in the 40's before becoming a super-soldier, how much things changed over the years. About past missions.

Soon enough you felt your eyelids droop heavily from fatigue. He noticed your tiredness and reached out his right arm, gently wrapping it around you and pulling you towards his side, encircling you completely in his warm embrace. Slowly but steadily, your muscles began to release the tension in them and you leaned into his touch.

"Why don't you get some shut-eye. We have plenty of time to talk when we arrive."

"Mhm," you mumbled sleepily. He smiled, brushing a few stray hairs away from your face as you drifted off.

...

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is our final stop. We have arrived at Glasgow Central Station," the conductor's voice announced over the intercom as the train began slowing down. "The weather is currently 59 degrees, and it is 5:27 a.m."

"Wake up, lovebirds," Natasha clapped as you stirred slightly, looking confused as you raised your head from where it rested against Steve's chest. "Time to get going."

You yawned and stood up, stepping off onto the platform into the station, surprisingly busy at the crack of dawn. You really just wanted to curl back up into a ball and sleep. Talking for four hours straight with Steve had knocked you out completely.

After getting new SIM cards, Sam quickly created an account to get you checked into a hotel.

"It's a half hour walk. We should probably limit public transportation as much as we can," he stated as he slid his phone into his jacket pocket. "Managed to snag a 40% off deal including a free night, so we're good for the next few weeks until we get an actual apartment."

"You know," Natasha commented, adjusting her baseball cap and aviators as you made your way outside down the bustling street, "if we weren't currently trying to flee from the government's grasp, I'd say I'd wanna come back here for a vacation. And that's on nice architecture."

"With us?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? You're pretty good company. I wouldn't wanna hang out with anyone else."

"Well, what can I say?" Sam puffed up his chest. "I'm smooth with the ladies."

You simply laughed. "Yeah, sure you are."

Glasgow was a breathtaking city. With sprawling Victorian style buildings and cobblestone roads, brightly labeled bars and restaurants, it appeared as if it was pulled straight from a rustic 19th-century painting.

You checked into your hotel after grabbing some food from the nearby bakery. For a cheap price, your room was surprisingly simple but large: a king bed in one room, a pullout couch, and a small balcony so you could stand outside and take in the view of the city.

Despite having no time zone difference between Ireland and Scotland, you were still extremely jet-lagged, most likely due to the flight you'd taken over to Berlin not long ago. After binge-watching reruns of some sitcom for the rest of the day, you fell asleep, clutching your pillow tightly.

Natasha and Sam had good eyes, and could clearly see something was going on between you and Steve.

The truth was, you wanted something to happen but both of you were too chicken to make a move, thinking being in relationship while on the run was inconvenient and unnecessary.

The first few days passed by relatively quickly. You only really went out to buy groceries, and even then you went two at a time to avoid drawing unwanted attention to yourselves. Once, you treated yourselves to a night out at a nice restaurant, enjoying each others' company. It was a way to forget about your currently unfortunate situation.

...

But then the nightmares began.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed after waking up in a cold sweat, heading over to the bathroom. Everyone had already gone to sleep long ago, and you envied people like Sam as he could knock out cold almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Staring at your ghostly reflection in the mirror, you squeezed your eyes shut, releasing tears that cascaded down your flushed cheeks in a hot flood. You ran trembling fingers through your messy hair in an attempt to tame it, taking a brief look at your disheveled appearance. The heavy dark circles underneath your bloodshot eyes that were a result of hardly sleeping over the past week were clear, as well as your sunken cheekbones and deathly pale complexion.

You studied the woman that looked back at you, with the same unnerving and hollowed out gaze that she'd worn for years; a façade she learned to develop so that nobody could see when she felt weak; helpless.

Ten days.

Only ten days had passed since you arrived in Scotland, yet it seemed as if you aged ten years during that short amount of time. Small creases in between your brows indicated stress and anxiety from leaving everything you knew behind, for a future you could barely see ahead of. For a life that held an endless amount of consequences if you took one misstep, one wrong move.

Your body felt heavy, weighed down as if you carried the weight of a thousand men upon your aching shoulders. You didn't know what to do; what to think anymore.

You didn't look thirty-two anymore, you looked older. Almost as old as Tony. And there was a 10+ year age gap between you and him.

God, Tony.

You betrayed him. The last living member of your family on earth, and you betrayed him.

Turned your back on him, because you didn't believe in the same ideas. Was it really worth turning your back on your own blood just because of a disagreement?

I thought I could trust you.

I thought I could, too. But I guess things don't always work out as planned, do they?

They don't. I don't even know what I can say to you anymore. Hell, I can't look at you without seeing a traitor. You turned your back on all of us, and that's unforgivable.

The Accords, you know I couldn't sign them. It isn't right. I'm fighting for what I believe in.

No, you're fighting for Steve, not yourself. Always running over to precious Cap even if it costs you your safety, if it costs you everything and everyone you ever loved. Because you think that you can rely on him and him alone, to get through this. You won't get very far by keeping this act up, you know.

News flash; the world doesn't revolve around you, Tony. Just because someone doesn't agree with what you believe, doesn't mean you have to tear their team, their family, apart for it.

You're blaming me?

Maybe I am.

"What are you doing up this late?"

Steve's voice jolted you from your train of thought, and you looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe dressed in sweats and another tight-fitting T-shirt, his blue eyes scanning over you worriedly.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm fine, if that's what you're wondering. I'm just a bit jet-lagged," you muttered, hastily wiping away another stray tear that escaped. He pushed himself off the wall and caught your wrist as you were bringing your hand down, tugging you towards him slightly.

"Tell me what's going on."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not. What's wrong, Y/N?"

"I..." your voice faltered. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until you felt your face grow wet from the salty tears that rolled silently into your cracked lips. "I don't know. Everything's wrong."

"Everything?"

"I made a mistake."

"What do you mean, mistake?"

"I turned my back against Tony. My family. I betrayed my own family, Steve." Your voice cracked. "And now I can't even guarantee that I'll ever see him again."

"You did what you had to do," he said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You felt your skin burning up under his touch. "You were just trying to do what you felt was right."

"Yeah, by teaming up with the side of the man who killed my parents. I can't imagine what he even thinks of me right now."

A look of hurt briefly passed over Steve's face at the mention of Bucky.

"...But I know their deaths were out of his control, so I don't blame him," you continued. "Still..I hurt him. And now, I have to live with knowing that fact." "Look, I'm sorry."

"What?"

You looked up and met his gaze, feeling his bright blue eyes boring into yours. He didn't seem upset or angry at all; there was an eerie softness and calming feeling about the way he looked at you that made you relax a bit.

"I shouldn't have dragged you into this mess. I never wanted you to have this kind of life; where you're always living in uncertainty. You deserve better than that."

"It's not your fault at all," you swallowed hard. Talking and breathing grew increasingly difficult with the sob that was building up in the back of your throat, that you tried desperately to conceal for so long, "it's mine. I made that decision to side with you, not only because I couldn't stand the idea of signing the Accords. So it's...it's on me. God, I don't know what to do anymore, I can't—"

A wave of grief suddenly hit you from all sides, causing you to keel over, sliding down against the cold wall with a hand clutching your stomach as an agonized scream tear itself through your body and out of your throat. And you were drowning; suffocated by your own tears as you struggled to breathe. You tried desperately to stop them but nothing could seem to hold back the heavy sobs that wracked your body, clawing at your lungs and heart.

Steve crouched down in front of you and pulled you against him, arms tightening around your body with each cry that escaped your lips. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to take all your sadness and frustration and grief and put it upon himself, to carry the weight on his shoulders so he wouldn't have to watch you endure the pain. He'd much rather have to suffer himself than watch you try and bear the burden and fall to pieces in the process.

Seeing you breaking down before him with your gut-wrenching cries that echoed across the small space, more vulnerable than you'd ever been in front of him before, made it feel as if someone was directly ripping his heart right out of his chest and tearing it into a thousand pieces with their bare hands.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered soothingly as he pressed his lips to the side of your temple, "it's okay. I've got you. You're gonna be okay."

Despite how you felt as if your heart was twisting itself into knots, there was something comforting about the way he held you ever so gently in his arms, the way his warm breath fell against his neck as one arm was firmly hooked around your waist, running his free hand through your hair.

So for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that there was no one else in the world except for just you and him, holding you close, and that everything was fine, even if the feeling only lasted for a second.

#steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #captain america one shot #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader

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