#i know i need to clean my desk. i. behind due to [gesturing at bird]

[the-puffinry]

not particularly helpful to my productivity.

"help help I'm being repressed!!!"

#i know i need to clean my desk. i. behind due to [gesturing at bird] #lineolated parakeet #parrots #petblr #birds #birblr #vaiya #linnie #linnies #photography #birdblr #crime and punishment #studyblr #lmao

[multific]

Solve a Murder

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: You were desperate. You needed help and so, you turned to the one man in London who would be able to help.

“Mr. Holmes, I’m here to hire you to solve a murder.”

“And who’s murder would that be?”

“Mine.”

“Pardon?” asked Dr. Watson.

“It’s my step-sister. I suspect she and her husband want me dead. You see, I inherited my father’s land when she thought she would be the one to get it. And now, just the way she looks at me. She offers me drinks, way too often, I suspect she is trying to poison me. I fear for my life, and lately I haven’t been feeling well. You need to help me. Find evidence that she is plotting my death so I can go to the police.”

The two men looked at each other. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have come.” you said as you stood up, they made you feel like you were a fool, but then the Doctor spoke up making you look back at him.

“How long have you been suspecting that she is trying to poison you?”

“About a month. My dad died five months ago, I lost my mum when I was little, so he married another woman who gave him my step sister. My step mum died two years ago, or rather disappeared. Dad left everything to me in his will. And my sister was fuming, saying that she was the one to deserve it. Back that I was so sad, I didn’t even realize she said that. During the four months I was grieving, but then I started to notice things.”

“Things like?”

“Her servants bringing me food and tea, which is a nice gesture but...it’s usually after I already ate. And then I started to get sick a lot more often. I’m not one to fall sick easily. The doctor said it was just a cold, but...I know she did something. The look on her face said it all. She looked happy when I was in bed for a week. I tried asking for help, but everyone thinks I’m paranoid.”

“I believe you.” said Watson as he looked back at Sherlock who only rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s clearly only the mind of a woman, making up scenarios. Why are you really here? You are wasting my time.” his words were harsh. And they hurt. Just as the nice Doctor turned to scold his friend, you spoke up, tear running down your face.

“I hope Mr. Holmes, that you will visit my grave one day. I just wish to see your face when you realize that you were wrong.” you said as you stormed out of the house.

You felt so silly. And to think that you were extremely nervous when you decided to seek for his help. You didn’t even realize that you left your scarf at the house. 

***

You were truly helpless, you didn’t have any friends to talk to, your maids were fired by her, leaving only her trusted ones behind. You were trapped in your own house.

And you didn’t have evidence to go to the police either. Although you looked everywhere in the house for signs. But you were unable to find anything, no bottles, no poison, nothing.

The worst however was that you were gradually falling more ill, day after day.

It felt like you were dying from the inside. So, you called the doctor over.

The doctor said that your illness was due to the loss of your father. The doctor blamed depression, but you knew it wasn’t that. Not with the way your sister was smirking and smiling when she thought you weren’t watching.

One day, you felt so terrible, you couldn’t even get out of the bed. 

And from that day on, you didn’t.

You were so ill, the sun hurt your eyes and you felt useless. You just laid in bed, you weren’t even sure for how long.

You had barely any appetite. And you wondered how many days have passed.

***

“Miss Y/L/N, two gentlemen are here to talk to you. They said they brought your scarf back.” one of the maid’s said before they left, leaving the door open to let the two men in. You tried to sit up, look at least presentable, but you were too weak.

“Miss Y/L/N,” you recognized that voice, that calm and kind voice.

“Dr. Watson,” you said smiling at the man, not noticing that Sherlock was also in the room.

“You left your scarf. Don’t get me wrong, My Lady, but you look very ill.” said the doctor as he placed the cloth by your hand. You grabbed it and thanked him.

“The doctor was just here, yesterday I think. Said it’s only depression.” you said letting out a long sigh. 

“That’s ridiculous. I saw people looking more heathy on their death bed. May I examine you?” you gave him a weak nod, then you turned to Sherlock who was standing on the other side of your bed.

“Will you take my case now, or in a few days when I’m gone?” you asked looking at Sherlock. His eyes met yours.

***

Dr. Watson determined that you needed immediate care in a hospital. Although your sister argued with him, telling him that you already are in the care of a doctor. 

That day, Sherlock took your case. He clearly noticed something which he didn’t’t share at the time.

You were in the hospital for three days, and you already felt better. Every day Dr Watson would come over to talk about the case or ask questions. Although you were sure Sherlock was already close to finding evidence.

***

One day, you were finally better, so you could walk around a little. You were sitting outside, reading a book under a tree when you noticed Mr Holmes making his way over to you. 

“It was the food and the water and the tea and the cookies and everything.” said Sherlock as he sat down beside you. “You were poisoned gradually, small portions on everything you ate, and drank. The maid did it, because your sister ordered her to. Both are in custody as we speak for attempted murder.” he said, but even with your suspicions being right, you didn’t feel better.

“Thank you Mr. Holmes. I will pay you as soon as I get out of here.” you said before turning to look up the tree, watching a little bird hop from one branch to the other.

“Hmm.” you didn’t notice the look Sherlock gave you. But he noticed just how much livelier you looked. Your eyes shined, your skin shimmered in the light. You looked a lot better. “So, as I observed, you are not married. Neither am I.” he said.

You had to admit this was the worst possible way someone tried to court you. You looked at him, eyes wide.

“Pardon?”

“I’m saying that I find you quite beautiful and I would like to know you better.”

“Oh.” 

“Oh? That’s it?”

“Don’t get me wrong Mr. Holmes, I appreciate the compliment, it’s just... Your timing, Sir. I am still in hospital because my sister tried to poison me, my brother-in-law is still out there, possibly stealing everything that he can move from my home. And you are...handsome.” 

“Then, I will be back with the same proposition in a few weeks. Ms Y/L/N.” he said as he stood up and left.

You laughed a little, thinking that he was joking.

After all, what could a man like him possibly want from you?

***

It had been almost a month since you left the hospital.

You were half right about your brother-in-law. He did steal a couple of items when he left, but luckily they didn’t mean anything to you, so you were just happy that he was gone. 

You hired new staff and fired everyone. You were not sure who you could trust.

You also made sure that every food and drink was thrown out or went down the sink. You were not taking any chances. 

The fact that you only had 2 members of staff made you do some work you were not used to. You were no brat and you didn’t mind getting your hands dirty, so you helped with the cleaning where you could. 

You were working in the kitchen, cleaning the cupboards when a voice behind you made you startled. You nearly fell off the furniture as you were cleaning the very top shelves.

“Miss, Mr. Holmes is here.” 

“Thank you, Tina! Let him in, please.”

“He is here, Miss.”

This is when you finally turned around and noticed the man smiling up at you. Tina already left to get back to her duties.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Y/L/N. I must admit, every time we meet I can see a different side of yours. I have never seen a lady on the sink, cleaning the shelves.”

“Well, someone has to do it.” you said slowly climbing down. Sherlock helped you, making sure you won’t fall. “I assume you came for your payment. Give me a moment. I put it in an envelope in the library.”

You said washing your hands before heading into the library. You pulled the drawer of your father’s desk out and pulled the envelope out.

“For your speedy resolution, and for Dr. Watson’s help regarding my health, I added a bit extra. Thank you very much.” you said handing him the payment.

“I actually didn’t come for the payment, Ms. Y/L/N.” he said but you watched as he reached out to take the payment from you and slipped in into his pocket. “I’m here to keep my word. What I said in the hospital, I wish to get to know you better. You seem like a very interesting and smart woman. You realized that your sister was bad, even when everyone, including me, thought that you were delusional. I apologize for that.” you honestly didn’t know what to say. You thought he was a man who wouldn’t see you in a romantic matter. But then again, he just mentioned getting to know you.

“Maybe, you can stay over for lunch? I will cook up something nice.”

“You?”

“Yes, I am yet to hire a new cook, and in the meantime I do the cooking, my old nanny taught me a few recipes.”

“Sounds nice.”

And so, he stayed for lunch, dinner and the next day he came over again and every single day after.

He was charming, and the two of you could speak for hours about everything and anything.

Before you knew it, months, and years passed.

You certainly didn’t think that when you decided to go to Baker Street 221B to ask for help, you would find your future husband.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

My taglist is open!

Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank You for reading my story!~

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes imagines #henry cavill sherlock holmes #cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes imagine #henry cavill sherlock holmes imagines #enola holmes imagine #henry cavill characters #henry cavill characters x reader

[words-writ-in-starlight]

day 3: "insults"

Zetian came back to their chambers an hour earlier than she was supposed to, and the black-winged line of her lashes couldn’t quite hide the red rims beneath. She was sitting stiff and straight in her wheelchair, the way that Yizhi had learned to read as a kind of pain, like an arm tensed thoughtlessly to protect a bruise. And—he noticed it with some alarm—her golden robes, laid carefully out over her legs with his own hands, were spotted here and there with blood. There was some on her knuckles, spotting her right sleeve, and she held her hand delicately in her lap, as if it hurt her.

“Zetian?” he was already asking, concerned, as the door swung shut behind her. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” Zetian said, and buried her face in her hands.

Yizhi crossed the room in a rush, and knelt in front of her, so that he could look up at her face and her hands. One, her right hand, was bruised, two of the knuckles split, as if she had punched something with enough force to break skin. He didn’t think she was crying, but her hands trembled, just faintly, as she lifted them, briefly, and closed her fists against her face.

“Zetian,” Yizhi said again, reaching up toward her hands. He caught her right hand in both of his, avoiding the worst of the bruising, and tried to gently pull it down. She resisted for a moment, then caved, all at once, letting her fist fall open so that Yizhi could rest her palm on his and get a look at the damage. “Zetian. What happened? Did someone do this to you?”

“No,” Zetian said, voice very flat. Her eyes were closed, and her left hand was pressing against the crease between her brows without regard for the formal makeup on her face. She had been due to give a speech this morning, and it had gone off without a hitch, his steel-eyed Empress the perfect combination of untouchable magnificence and cold, mortal ruthlessness. Yizhi had kissed her hands and told her as much, and she had scoffed, pinched his arm, and told him to go do his job instead of doting on her like the protagonist in some saccharine romance. He had chuckled, and she had smiled, and they had parted ways with one more affectionate kiss to her knuckles. She had seemed—not fine, she hadn’t been fine in a while, but she had been clear-eyed and sure. That had been maybe six hours ago.

“Come with me,” Yizhi said, standing slowly and keeping a light hold of her hand, cradled in his palms like a wounded thing. “I’ll wash your hand off, and we can get you into some clean clothes, okay?”

Zetian opened her eyes, staring at their joined hands like she wasn’t seeing them, and reached out with her left hand to touch her split knuckles, investigating. Yizhi closed his hands over her injured right, frowning protectively, and Zetian pulled back, blinking at the half-dried blood on her fingertips.

“I punched a wall,” she said neutrally.

Yizhi blinked himself, twice, and then said, just as neutral, “Okay.”

She was fingering at the blood on her right sleeve, now. There was some paint coming off her hand onto the fabric, the vermillion of her huadian smudged on her forehead and the heel of her thumb. She didn’t seem to notice, absorbed in the act of rubbing the gold, heavily embroidered silk between her fingers.

“Zetian,” Yizhi repeated, softly, and crouched back down so that he could look up into her face again. “Please, tell me what happened.”

Zetian took a breath, a long, shuddering thing, and let it out in a weary gust.

“I—was trying to avoid—people for a little while,” she said, halting. “So I was in—the study. The big window, with the curtain.”

Yizhi nodded. He knew the one she meant—there was a deep window ledge, made up with cushions and a blanket, so that someone might sit there comfortably for a while. If that person was, say, an Empress in need of a moment to herself, the curtain could be closed to mostly conceal the window ledge and the person inside.

“I heard a pair of maids come in. I should have told them I was there, but I didn’t want to deal with the—everything.” Zetian made a communicative gesture to indicate the nervous prostrations and scraping that most of the servants directed toward her. She unapologetically relished the same behavior from the more insufferable upper class, but it made her uneasy to face it from those who had once been her peers. “So I stayed quiet. I left my wheelchair at the desk. I don’t think—I guess they thought it was supposed to be there.”

She paused there, tongue touching her front teeth, breathing. Her gaze was fixed on some nowhere place over Yizhi’s shoulder, and the lines of her face were hard, angry, but also oddly uncertain. Yizhi didn’t move, just waited, holding onto her injured hand.

After a moment, Zetian stirred again, and said, “I heard them—talking. About…”

She didn’t finish, but then, she didn’t need to.

Yizhi had loved Zetian for a long time, now that he let himself think about it. He had thought, somewhat ashamed of himself for his favoritism, that losing anyone else would be easy, as long as she was with him.

It had not been easy.

They didn’t dare to say his name during daylight hours, unsure of how the raw wound would show itself, too afraid to let anyone else see the depth of their loss. They were both as defensive as lost children, unwilling to let an outsider even look at their hurts, let alone try to touch them. Instead, Zetian and Yizhi curled together and talked in whispers, in the dark, and hid their bloody hearts in each other’s hands.

“Oh,” Yizhi said, quietly. “They—what did they say?”

Zetian’s eyes snapped to his, and all the confused distance was gone, leaving a flame that burned white in its place. Her meridians stirred, he could feel them through his touch at her wrist, and the simple spirit metal headpiece she wore in daily business glimmered as if it was under a brilliant light.

“They said,” she said, a deadly hiss, “that the best thing he ever did was die. They said that he had nothing worth living for. They said,” she went on, voice getting louder, “that he was a murderer, and an animal, and a stupid one at that, too stupid to run for his life. They said that he—he probably raped all his concubine pilots, and they must have been grateful to die just to get away from him, and that I abandoned him to die in the Bird, and that I was right. They said that I was a hero for leaving him behind!”

Zetian was shouting now, almost screaming, throat raw and eyes red and running with the force of her anger. She had reversed Yizhi’s grip on her right hand, and now she was clutching him so tightly it hurt, grinding the bones together, while her left hand was clawed in the cloth of her robe, twisted, knuckles standing out pale against her skin.

“They said that I haven’t held a funeral for him because he didn’t deserve to be remembered—that he killed his whole family and he should have just—”

She stopped, choking on her words, as if she was forcing them out through a stranglehold. Then she spat, “They said that he should have just let the army shoot him, and then all his concubine pilots would still be alive, and we’d all be a lot better off.”

Zetian was shaking, her whole body vibrating under Yizhi’s grip, so that she looked almost like he had, shuddering while his system fought to survive withdrawal. She was crying properly now, ragged sobs of rage and grief, and that awful look of lost, helpless confusion was back beneath it all, and Yizhi—

Yizhi didn’t know what to do to make her feel better, because he was feeling a sudden upswell of sympathy for Zetian’s decision to punch a wall.

He wanted to punch a wall, too. Or, even better, he wanted to go down to the security office and demand every surveillance video from the entire building, and go over them with a fine-toothed comb to find everyone who had ever spoken a single one of those thoughts aloud. Then he could deliver them all up to Zetian on a silver platter, and maybe that would make the glaring emptiness, where they had all-too-quickly come to depend on another person, less painful.

“We haven’t held a funeral because we don’t know he’s dead,” Yizhi finally said. His voice was weak, fragile-sounding, and he realized when he spoke that he was crying too. Not Zetian’s wracking sobs, but a steady trickle that dripped from his jaw and clogged his throat.

“I told him that!” Zetian said, the words torn out of her chest. She was curled over in her chair, clinging to Yizhi like he was the last hope of rescue after a shipwreck, and crying almost into her knees, hand pressed over her mouth. “I said that right to his face, I said that he should have just taken a bullet rather than let them force him into piloting! I said—I said he had nothing worth living for, and those girls had everything, and he should have died rather than—and he agreed with me! He agreed with me, and then he—and then—”

Yizhi gave up on grace and pulled Zetian bodily out of her chair, into his lap on the floor. He wasn’t big enough for it to be comfortable, for either of them—his shoulders too narrow, his limbs too delicate—but she didn’t hesitate to follow his lead. She pressed her face into his shoulder and he fisted one hand in her robes, and felt her take a great shuddering gasp of air, every fiber taut and shivering with emotion.

“I told him,” she said into his robes, as if confessing a capital crime, “that if he was going to rape me, he should at least be honest about it. I didn’t say it like that, but he knew—he knew.”

Yizhi closed his eyes, resting his cheek on her hair, and felt his own breathing hitch. Zetian kept talking, like she couldn’t stop the flow of words now that she had started.

“What if he—what if he thought I still thought of him like that? What if he saved me because he thought—he thought that he was worthless, or a monster, or that we’d be better off? What if—”

“Stop,” Yizhi said, barely a whisper. He wasn’t even sure Zetian could hear him, over her own voice, her own guilt. But she stopped, and just sat and shivered in his arms.

Yizhi took a moment to breathe, her headpiece digging into his temple as he tried to find words.

“He saved us,” Yizhi finally said, slow and careful, “because he wanted us to live. Because he loved us. We can’t—it’s not fair to him, to spend all our time trying to decide if he loved us because he hated himself. That won’t—it won’t help us. And it won’t help him.”

“I was so awful to him,” Zetian said.

“Well,” Yizhi said, managing a brittle laugh through his tears, “sometimes you’re awful. Sometimes he was too. And me, every now and then. What matters is that we try to fix it.”

Yizhi shifted his weight, and carefully lowered both of them down onto the carpet, curled up on their sides, face-to-face. Zetian’s makeup was ruined, her blotchy flush showing through, and he was sure he didn’t look much better. He thought, for a moment, about how they had slept curled up like this the night before the attack on Zhou province. But then, they had been framing another body between them, hands lightly linked over his abdomen, his hands touching them hesitantly every once in a while, anxiously, as if he thought they might disappear.

Now, in the Empress’ quarters, they laid there together on the floor. The light outside the window began to darken, and Zetian’s tears dried, leaving her makeup smeared in ghoulish streaks down her face, and Yizhi kept holding her injured right hand to his chest.

Yizhi didn’t know how long they had been laying there when Zetian spoke, quietly, her voice clear and her eyes closed.

“I miss him.”

“Me too,” Yizhi whispered.

“I want to find those maids and kill them.”

“Me too.”

“We probably shouldn’t do that.”

“No. I could have them reprimanded, though.”

“Do that.”

“Okay,” Yizhi said, and bent his head to kiss the tips of her fingers. “If you let me clean your hand.”

“Okay,” Zetian said. “In a little while.”

#whumptober 2021 #no.3 #insults #iron widow #fic #self harm #starlight writes stuff #BIG iron widow spoilers but honestly you've been here you know this #anyway!!!!!! #i wrote this in three hours #i am actually delighted with it #ot3: iron triangle #i just!!!!!!!! #i want them to be SAD together!!!!!!!! #where are they? what's going on? how does zetian being empress actually Work?????? #i don't know and frankly i do not care! this is about them being SAD!!!!!!!

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 3 Damian x reader

Pulled away to another world, Y/N uses magic science and a Little bird to help her get back home and possibly be rid of an apocalyptic event. "So, will you succumb to your doubts completely or step into the sun of this new world?"

The man in the cowl who was called Batman sat and listened as I explained my situation, and my window how the metal head and his team of night bandits crashed through the said window also putting in that I had taken care of his son giving him some pain killers and cleaning his wounds. I silently thanked God that I soundproofed my whole apartment so I couldn't hear them and they couldn't hear me. I went through the gruesome details of his wound as I patched him up leaving out the green substance that I had to drain him of. My explanation was short and quick leaving the man to glance up at the three before him and Robin who was now, despite my protests, sitting in an upright position, then back at me.

The man had a dark and menacing aura I could tell he was trying to intimidate me, and he could tell it wasn't working. He moves back to the Robin who he throws over his shoulder, I heard a small oof come out of his mouth telling me this wasn't the first type of injury like that. The rest of the men follow behind him, I didn't make a sound as they left watching as they all jumped out one by one till none were residing within my apartment. I feel a wave of sleepiness wash over me as I turn down the hallway to my room. but upon entering it I feel my stomach drop to the floor. The closet was open, and upon further examination, I see that so is the box, my box, my scales.

I sigh knowing that I probably won't be seeing them again I close that I don't technically need them anymore but it was nice to have some security just in case.

"I might as well make more." I say going to bed Nightmare not far behind. "it should be fine as long as they don't find out right?" I pull the covers over my head and dread the thought, and I fall asleep not moments later.

The next few days go off without anything odd happening besides the next morning when I found my window fixed with a small note attached to it. I was a small piece of green paper that was tapped to the outside ' I fixed your window -Robin' I smiled opening the window and taking the note I read it again then I put it on my fridge. I still look at it now and then I feel happy I was able to help someone it also stands as a reminder that he stole my scales and that I need to get them back. I'm still reminiscing the thought at my desk during the 3rd hour instead of paying attention to Molly's one-sided conversation which I already know is about homework.

"(y/n) are you listening?"

"Yes Molly, I have been paying but you can't complain about homework every week you just gotta do it."

"Gahh I don't want to!"

I sighed as she continued to rant about doing it, the bell rung and I forced her into her seat on my left. Since it was the middle of the semester the science class schedule states that we would be doing a project on forgotten scientific instruments. I hear the class already calling partners in the background.

"Alright settle down, I know you're eager to pick partners for our next group assignment but sadly I have to remind you about the last time I let you choose," The class groaned. "Quiet! So you will be put in pairs assigned to you on this chart." she pulls out a large magnetic chart with two names on magnets that were written in dry-erase marker on the right side. on the left side was a list of objects I suppose were the subject of our project. The only problem was I couldn't see the names written on the magnets. "You will choose your project When I call the first name on the magnet, then I want you to immediately connect and set up a meeting place to study. Let's start a the top, (y/n) pick a subject." I looked at the board when my eyes gazed on upon something familiar my eyes lit up.

"I would like to study the Astrolabe please." She nodded and moved my name on the subject.

"Very well chosen! You and Damian should enjoy this project." I Freeze.

"Damian Ma'am?" I ask.

"Yes Damian Wayne, I know you work well with Molly and that's why I normally pair her with you but I feel this would be a better experience for you to expand." She then turns back to the board. " plus there are only two people in this room who can keep up you" I hear her say under her breath and continues to call out the next name. I look at Molly who gives me a Knowing look besides for her I hadn't really memorized any names to faces due to my wanting to keep out of Awkward conversation. She gestures to the person on the right of me. I peer over and see a very unimpressed black-haired, green-eyed boy staring at me.

"Um, so I guess we're partners." I give him a small smile "I don't think we have properly met my name is (y/n) (l/n) it's a pleasure to be working with you." He gives me a nod. "So the Library?"

"We'll see if that works out first, if not I'll need you to come with me." He said pulling out a notebook.

"Go with you where?"He glances at me.

"To my place, Wayne Manor, that is if I'm still grounded."

"How did you get grounded?" His face twisted turning from uninterest into a sly smirk that gave me warning signs in my head.

"I smashed a window."

#Damianxreader #X reader #DC #Marvel #MarvelxReader #DCxreader #batfam #mutants #Damian Wayne x reader

[meltingheartsandcores]

Part 1 Part 2 (here) Part 3

So this is part 2 of my WCZ and CZS don’t die and raise WWX and he breaks into Cloud Recess ficlet. It’s longer than I thought it would be and really just deals with the opening ceremony of the Cloud Recess lessons. I did my best, and mostly skipped over dialogue that was in the show but unneccessary to repeat. Also, this story isn’t beta’d, sorry.

If you have any questions feel free to ask. 

As always, I hope you enjoy!

“How do you keep these clean?” Wei Wuxian asks as he follows Lan Wangji through Cloud Recess to the classroom. Apparently, Lan Wangji (Lan-er-Gongzi, as he was told by some disciple. Wuxian opted to ignore him.) was stuck babysitting Wei Wuxian for his time at Cloud Recess until he could be trusted alone. 

 Wei Wuxian would have to do his best to gain that trust. So he could immediately break it by shaving off Lan Qiren’s beard. 

 “Careful.” Lan Wangji states. 

 “But even if I’m super careful, I get my regular robes dirty. These are pure white, how can I possible keep them clean?” Lan Wangji gives him a stern look, and does not respond as they arrive at the Orchid House. Lan Wangji leads them to the front row and gestures for Wei Wuxian to stand next to the second desk. Lan Wangji stands behind his own desk, not quite in the right position but in a good position to keep Wei Wuxian from sneaking out and causing mayhem. With a sigh, Wei Wuxian waits as the other guest disciples enter. He’s never actually done classroom learning. He mostly learnt from his parents, which was almost always hands on now. Sometimes they visited Uncle Jiang and Aunt Yu and he’d join their disciples but they’ve never done classroom learning then either. It’s mostly been training outdoors and teasing Jiang Cheng. 

Wei Wuxian is rather positive he’s never sat down and learnt something in his life. Even when he was young, he was taught talisman’s walking. Or riding on their donkey. Which was technically sitting but he’s never learnt in a proper classroom environment like Cloud Recess. 

So this is a new experience. And his mother always says to embrace new experiences with joy and mischief. His father advises caution, but only in terms of ‘Don’t get over your head. And don’t get caught’.

Wei Wuxian loves his parents. 

He looks to the disciples still slowly milling in and notices Jiang Cheng standing across the aisle. Due to Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian couldn’t go over and say hi, but he waits until Jiang Cheng’s eyes wander in boredom and waves excitedly. Jiang Cheng’s face contorts into a pure ‘What the fuck’ expression, before he turned to the person standing next to him and points to Wei Wuxian. His excitement grows when he sees that it’s Jiang Yanli, who smiled at him and waved hello. 

 Wei Wuxian was about to gesture something else to the duo when Lan Wangji moved to be in proper position for greeting the teacher. Wei Wuxian shifts himself, looking forward as Lan Qiren walks into the room and takes a seat at the head table. Thankfully, his father had the foresight to teach him quite a bit about propriety and eitquette so Wei Wuxian knew enough of what to do. 

 He does still have to take some cues from Lan Wangji but he was mostly fine. 

Wei Wuxian listens to Lan Qiren’s lecture (okay technically a senior disciple was giving it but Lan Qiren was presiding) for all of five minutes before he becomes so bored he’s at risk of falling asleep. So instead he focuses on trying to figure out how he can gain the trust of the Lans. He really doesn’t deserve it, but he has to convince them he does. Which will be hard. 

 His thoughts are interrupted by chirping. He looks around to find the source. He’s pretty sure it’s either coming from behind him or beside him. And since Lan Wangji is the only one beside him, that seems unlikely. So he turns, ignoring Lan Wangji, to see a boy crossing his sleeves to hide something. Wei Wuxian smiles, but quickly turns around when he remembers Lan Wangji right beside him. He doesn’t want the stranger to get caught, but the bird is still chirping… Wei Wuxian smoothly shifts one of his hands to rest against the small of his back before quickly doing a small talisman to put the bird to sleep. His father had made it when their donkey started having trouble sleeping. Apparently taking a donkey night-hunting had some negative affects on the donkey. Might’ve been Yiling. 

The chirping stops and people stop looking around. 

Eventually the Senior Disciple finishes and announces, “The Jin Clan of Lanling is Saluting.”

’The Jin Clan… Isn’t Shijie engaged to a guy from there?’Wei Wuxian watches as Mr. Gold Robes walks to the aisle with another disciple from the other side of Jiang Cheng. 

 “I am Jin Zixuan from the Jin Clan of Lanling.” Mr. Gold Robes states. ’Oh, that’s Shijie’s fiance.’ Wei Wuxian looks him over as he keeps talking, ignoring him mostly. ’She deserves better.’ Wei Wuxian decides when Mr. Gold Robes presents his present to Lan Qiren. 

 Wei Wuxian really hopes Lan Qiren doesn’t expect one from him. He didn’t even want to be here. Also. He forgot Suibian. He didn’t have anything that could be considered a gift. 

 Then again. 

Mr. Gold Robes just gave Lan Qiren a gold book that was completely useless so, eh. Lan Qiren doesn’t have high standards apparently. Then again, if his Muqin is right (and she always is), the Jins tend to just throw gold at their problems until they go away, so maybe he only has low expectations from them. 

Once they’re done and they’ve returned to their desks, the head disciple calls for the Nie Clan to Salute. Wei Wuxian turns when he hears rustling to see the man behind him- apparently of the Nie Clan- quickly putting the bird beneath his desk before walking past Wei Wuxian with what Wei Wuxian assumes is a disciple following behind. Except he’s not wearing the same white robes as everyone else. 

 Odd. 

Wei Wuxian finds out after the pair introduce themselves. He’s already decided he’s going to befriend Nie Huaisang, anyone who would sneak a canary into a classroom is someone he wants to be friends with, but Meng Yao is interesting. Although, as an assistant he’s probably not staying for the lectures. 

 Wei Wuxian’s head turns sharply when he hears two disciples whispering. It was audible to everyone in the quiet room. “He’s the love child of Jin-Zhongzhu, right? It was said that he went to the Jin Clan for a proposal.” 

 Wei Wuxian turns to look at Lan Wangji, who has clearly heard the gossiping disciples. ��Lan-er-gongzi, isn’t gossiping against the Lan clan’s rules?” Wei Wuxian whispers to Lan Wangji, although he’s probably not as quiet as he could have been since quite a few people turn to look at him. But Lan Wangji nods and suddenly neither of the gossiping disciples can open their mouths. Wei Wuxian glances over to the pair still in the aisle before turning his attention forward. 

 Zewu-Jun meets his eyes before turning and walking into the aisle to accept the gift. And praise Meng Yao. 

 When Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao walk back to their desks, Meng Yao gives Wei Wuxian a small smile, Wei Wuxian returns the smile, and silently vows to get to know both of them. Nie Huaisang was bound to be awesome, but he’s yet to get a good read on Meng Yao aside from Zewu-Jun liking him. Maybe he’s a fuddy duddy like Lan Wangji, maybe he’s mischievous like Wei Wuxian, only way to find out is to get to know him. 

Finally, it was the Jiang Clan’s turn to salute. Jiang Cheng and a disciple walk into the aisle. Jiang Cheng was in the middle of introductions when a bunch of guys in red robes walk in, led by a greasy looking guy. They seem, vaguely familiar. Wei Wuxian’s first instinct is to ask Lan Wangji, but he’d probably not say anything, he actually looks really pissed off. Best not to bother him when he might be stab happy. So he turns to Nie Huaisang. 

 “Who’re they?” He whispers, really quietly this time as to not disturb their talking. 

“The Wen Clan of Qishan.” Nie Huaisang whispers back. 

Oh. That makes sense. “The overconfident overcompensating ones.” Wei Wuxian whispers. Although not quietly enough since the leader turns to glare at him. 

“What did you just say?” The man demands.

Ah, shit. Wei Wuxian puts on the fake smile he learnt from his mom ( “Imagine you’re beating someone’s face in, smile, and then not do it.” “Why do you sound so disappointed?” “What’s the point of imagining beating someone up if you don’t get to do it?”) and salutes, “Please forgive this one, he did not mean to interrupt. He is merely a rogue cultivator graciously allowed into these lectures and was unaware of the major clans.” Eh, mostly truthful. 

 The leader sneers, “Cloud Recess has clearly gone bad if they’re letting people like you into the lectures.” 

“As someone who’s never been to a Cloud Recess lecture, can you really make that call?” Wei Wuxian asks before he can stop himself. He really hates his mouth sometimes. The Lans don’t need him to defend them. He doesn’t even like them. Okay, he kind of likes Lan Wangji. The others he doesn’t give a shit about. 

The leader scoffs, “A rogue cultivator with a big head.” 

“At least I have the skill to back it.” Well. When you’ve gotten your feet wet, why not jump in? 

“What did you just say?” 

“I’m sure you heard me, young master, I did not stutter nor did I say it quietly. At your age your hearing should not be going and you were speaking to Zewu-Jun just fine.” Wei Wuxian says as polite as possible, “So I assume you intend to ask what I meant.” Yeah… he was pissing off this guy. “However, young master, please indulge this servant… what’s your name?” He should probably know. After all, Muqin is keeping a list of all Wei Wuxian’s enemies. It’s disturbingly long considering he’s only had three full years to make enemies. Wei Wuxian ignores the reactions, which was contained laughter -Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao-, Irritation -Lan Wangji and Mr. Gold Robes-, Concern -Shijie-, and ‘What the fuck shut up!’ -Jiang Cheng-, and adds, “This one does not mean to offend, he truly is unaware of the inner disciples of the major clans.” Wow is he going to feel bad if this guy isn’t an inner disciple. He has the attitude of one. Maybe related to the sect leader? He kind of acts like Jin Zixun. So. Probably not a direct descendent but a spoiled nephew or something. 

“Do you live under a rock?” The man sneers. 

“No. Although until two months ago I was living on a celestial mountain.” His Grandmaster had broken her rule of her disciples not being allowed back when she learned of his existence. Apparently Grandchildren trumped not wanting to interact with the mortal realm. Wei Wuxian didn’t mind. His Grandmaster was awesome. Although he didn’t actually live on the mountain. They visited for three months of the year, so, that was not an excuse to not know who this guy was. 

 Wei Wuxian’s answer causes murmurs to go up. Ah, yes. Right. Celestial Mountain removed from society is gossip worthy. Greeeat. 

 The man scoffs, but finally says, “I am Wen Chao.” 

“It’s an honour to meet you, Wen-gongzi. Please forgive this one for his transgressions.” Ahh, Fuqin’s polite classes are finally being used. Even though Wei Wuxian would rather be using Fuqin’s ‘Break-a-face’ classes right now.

“Not unless you repeat what you said early in plain language.” Oh, great. He was stuck on that. Apparently Wei Wuxian would get to use Fuqin’s ‘Break-a-face’ classes anyways. 

 “I simply said that I had the skills to back up my big head.” 

Aaaand Wen Chao is really pissed. Shouldn’t the Lans have stepped in by now? Or is Lan Qiren letting him hang himself? He hopes not. “And what did you mean.” Wen Chao hisses. 

Ah, wonderful. There’s going to be a fight and he doesn’t have his sword. He shouldn’t have left her behind just because she was being moody. “That if you were truly skilled in cultivation as much as you boast, you would not need to throw raw power around recklessly. If your clan is truly as great as the rumours boast, then you would not need to have reckless displays of power, such as breaking into Cloud Recess.” Which is quite easy in Wei Wuxian’s opinion, thank you very much, not that he would say that. “It would be unnecessary. Displays of power with brute force rather than with your own cultivation shows how weak you truly are, and that you depend on others for things you should be able to do yourself.” Wei Wuxian shrugs, “I apologize if I am wrong, I was told the QishanWen Clan was one of Large Egos without the abilities to match up.” 

“Wen-Zhongzhu has the abilities to match up. His strength is unparalleled in the cultivation world.” Wen Chao states with pride. Wei Wuxian is not sure why, it’s not like he’s Wen-Zhongzhu.

“And my mother’s vindictiveness is unparalleled. But your Clan Leader does not give your whole sect their reputation. Otherwise the entirety of the Jin Clan would be known as, womanizers.” Wei Wuxian nearly says Man-whores and suddenly wishes his mother would censor herself more around him. “A Clan’s reputation comes from it’s people. Not the leaders. And currently you give your clan the reputation of bully’s with a lot of brute force but no real cultivation skills.” 

“Why you-“ Wen Chao starts, but finally Lan Qiren cuts in. 

“Wen Chao, if you are not here to attend the lectures, I must ask that you leave the Orchid House. You have interrupted, if you remain, I will require you to remain for a few days to copy the entirety of Simple Propriety. A book you should have been taught long ago.” Lan Qiren states. 

“Young Master Wen, today is our Ceremony Day, I hope that you can restrain yourself from attacking an unarmed disciple.” Zewu-Jun adds, and Wei Wuxian shifts uncomfortably. He’s grateful for the save- he was definitely talking himself into an early grave- but did they have to bring attention to the fact that he didn’t have his sword? 

Wen Chao looks as if he does not want to restrain himself, but a woman interrupts him. Swiftly moving forward and saluting Zewu-Jun, and the Lan Qiren. “I am Wen Qing of the Wen Clan of Qishan, I am under orders of His Excellency to attend the lectures. We hope that Grandmaster Lan and Lan-Zhongzhu can forgive us for being late, myself and my little brother, Wen Ning, are new to Cloud Recess and do not know the rules.” Once she’s done, she offers a red chest to Zewu-Jun. 

There’s a long silence before Lan Qiren states he’ll accept it. The Wen Clan leaves after Zewu-Jun tells them to be on time for tomorrows lecture. And then he gestures for the Jiang Clan to continue their salute before returning to his post. Once the Jiangs are done and they’re dismissed Wei Wuxian turns to Nie Huaisang. 

“So, is Wen Chao someone important?” 

 “Ah? Wei-Xiong, do you really not know?” Nie Huaisang asks, seemingly surprised. 

Meng Yao answers Wei Wuxian’s question, “Wen Chao is the youngest son of Wen-Zhongzhu.” 

Oh. “Oh. Huh. Well, can’t undo the insults.” 

“That was unwise.” Lan Wangji states. 

“I didn’t mean to get into an argument. I tried to finish it! He kept talking to me.” Wei Wuxian defends. Lan Wangji shakes his head, clearly disappointed. At least, Wei Wuxian thinks he’s disappointed. Maybe tired? He should really learn how to read Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian turns to Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao with a smile, “Ah, Nie-Xiong, Meng-Xiong,” Maybe that was wrong? Meng Yao had jumped at the address. Oh well. “Would you mind educating this one a little? I have gaps in my knowledge.” Lan Wangji shakes his head, but does not remind Wei Wuxian about needing an escort, in fact, he walks away. Sweet. 

“Ah, of course Wei-Xiong.” Nie Huaisang seemed more than happy to help. “But uh, what did you do to my bird?” He asks as the trio leave the Orchid House. 

“Oh, I just put it to sleep. Couldn’t have her making noise and interrupting the senior disciple.” Wei Wuxian quickly undoes his talisman and the bird wakes up. And immediately starts singing. “Where’d you find her?” Wei Wuxian asks, admiring the red bird. 

“On the way. I followed her for three whole days.” Nie Huaisang says happily. 

“Wow.” Wei Wuxian definitely did not have the patience for that. “Impressive.” 

Nie Huaisang shook his head, “Ah, no, it was nothing.” 

 “What do you plan to do with her?” 

Nie Huaisang shrugs, “Probably let her go. Cloud Recess doesn’t allow pets. And neither does Da Ge.” 

 “And Da Ge is…” Wei Wuxian would assume it’s Clan Leader Nie, but, he can’t say for sure. 

“Nie Huaisang is the younger brother of Qinghe Nie’s current Clan Leader.” Meng Yao states. 

 “Ah, thank you Meng-Xiong.” Meng Yao reacts the same way to the address as he did earlier, “Sorry, should I not be calling you such? I have limited interactions with Major Clans.” 

“Ah, no, it’s fine. It’s just… it’s not proper. I am merely an assistant.” 

“And I’m a rogue cultivator, I’m pretty sure I’m lower on the hierarchy than you.” Wei Wuxian says with a shrug. It’d be one thing if it was status, but, if Nie Huaisang is fine with the addresses, then Meng Yao shouldn’t have so much of a problem. Wei Wuxian is the lowest of the three of them, and Nie Huaisang the highest. Maybe Meng Yao is just really concerned with status? 

 Before he could say anything, Jiang Cheng interrupts with his normal grace and tact. Meaning he shoves Wei Wuxian and asks, “What’re you doing here?” 

“I’m attending the lectures.” Wei Wuxian answers with a smile. 

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, “Why? You didn’t come here for them, or else you would’ve brought Suibian and Xueyan.” 

 Wei Wuxian nods, really regretting not taking either of them. “I was curious about the clan with over three thousand rules, so I broke in.”

”What?!”

“Lan Wangji caught me, brought me to face disciplinary action from Grandmaster Lan, and my disciplinary action was attending the lectures. And copying their rules like three times.” 

“You’re attending the lectures as punishment?” Jiang Cheng’s tone was full of disbelief. Wei Wuxian didn’t understand why. 

“...You’ve met my parents, A-Cheng.” Jiang Cheng takes a moment to think before nodding, disbelief disappearing from his face. 

 Meng Yao opens his mouth but snaps it shut when the Lan brothers come up to the group. The quartet salutes in greeting. 

“This is from your mother.” Zewu-Jun says, handing over Suibian and Xueyan. Wei Wuxian’s face lights up as he accepts his sword and horsetail whisk from Zewu-Jun. Yes! It’d be great if he could actually draw Suibian, but he’ll test that out later. “She also sent a letter.” Zewu-Jun states, but makes no move to hand over a letter, which leaves two options. 1) The letter was to Lan Qiren -however it makes no sense for Zewu-Jun to tell him this. 

So Option 2) “It was rude, wasn’t it?” 

“It was a voice letter.” Wei Wuxian really resists the urge to cackle. Because his mother only sends voice letters for three reasons. 1) to chew someone out. 2) to laugh at someone who’s far away from her. 3) to encourage Wei Wuxian in being the Chaos Gremlin she raised. 

He’d split his bet between 2 and 3. Leaning more toward 3. 

“Ah.” He didn’t really have anything else to say. 

“Your punishment will be carried out in the Library, Wangji will supervise you.” Zewu-Jun states, before saluting and leaving. “Ah, do we have to go now?” Wei Wuxian asks, his pleading face on for Lan Wangji. 

 It was useless. “Yes.” 

 “Okay, okay. I’ll talk to you later Nie-Xiong, Meng-Xiong. Don’t be so grumpy A-Cheng.” Wei Wuxian says and starts off in the direction he assumes the Library is in. Lan Wangji’s yank of his arm in a different direction proves his assumption false. “Ah, Er-gege, so rough!” Wei Wuxian whines. 

“Ridiculous.”

#Wwx #Wei Wuxian #Lan Wangji #LWJ #NHS #MY #Nie Huaisang #Meng Yao #Jiang cheng #Zewu Jun #Lan Qiren #those are the characters that show up mostly i think #cql #the untamed #Lan Xichen #my wiritng #ficlet #this is longer than I thought it’d be #also. Wwx doesn’t know a lot of the rules #Just the ones his mother felt were annoying #And he has gapes in his information because he didn’t have a very conventional education #so he didn’t learn anything his parents felt irrelevent. #sneaking au

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Mahiru comes across a letter and decides to write a response to it. (KuroMahi, Historical Romance AU)

After the library closed, Mahiru collected the papers and books that people had left on the tables. He wished people were more responsible and cleaned up after themselves. He worked in the castle and he came to learn that the royal family were as callus as they were wealthy. Mahiru picked up a book and a sheet of paper fell from between the pages. A sentence caught his eyes: Do you like cats?

His curiosity got the better of him and he skimmed through the rest. Mahiru discovered that it was a letter. There wasn’t enough detail in the note to know who wrote it or the person it was intended for. He found an envelope nearby and the return address was the warfront. He assumed the letter’s author was a soldier fighting in the war. While the letter was short, Mahiru thought he sounded lonely.

My Lady, I’m not the best with words or letters but my brother suggested that I write something to you. I agreed since we are engaged to be married. Arranged marriages are troublesome, aren’t they? I don’t even know your name but it’ll change to mine once I return from the war. We haven’t had a chance to meet before the war started. I would like to learn more about you before we say our vows though. Do you like cats? From, Kuro Sleepy Ash Servamp.

Mahiru wondered why the letter had been left behind in a book. Since the envelope was opened when he found it, the man’s fiancé must’ve read it already. Did she misplace it? She would likely want the letter back to be able to write a response. He decided to search for the man’s fiancé and then he walked to his friend who was working nearby.

“Misono, you were working this morning. Did you see a woman sitting at that desk who was reading a letter? I think she accidentally left it behind and I want to return it to her.” Mahiru explained how he found the letter. “I know most of the servants working in the castle but I don’t know anyone who’s in an arranged marriage.”

“You shouldn’t trouble yourself with that letter and their engagement. I overheard the woman and her friends talking about the letter. The woman laughed about it and threw the latter away. She said, in an arranged marriage, there’s no need for love and she doesn’t intend to write a reply.” Misono told him. “I know you like to help people but you should throw away that letter.”

“He’ll be left waiting for a reply though.” Mahiru argued and then bit his lip. A part of him knew that he shouldn’t insert himself into a stranger’s life yet something in the letter tugged at his heart. He grew up without a father due to the war. He recalled how his mother would wait for his father’s letter that never came. One sentence would’ve been enough to make her smile and give her hope.

Could the man in the letter be in a similar situation as his mother was?

“One letter wouldn’t hurt. I’ll tell him that she’s too sick to write a reply. He won’t know that the woman laughed at his letter.” Mahiru reasoned. He sat at a desk and took out a pen to start his letter.

“He’ll meet his fiancé eventually and learn the truth.” Misono pointed out but he knew that it was useless to argue. Once his friend had decided he wanted to help someone, no one could dissuade him.

When Kuro wrote the letter to his fiancé, he didn’t expect her to write back to him. They were engaged to be married but they hadn’t met before. His brother suggested they traded letters to learn more about each other before their marriage. He didn’t know why he decided to send the letter though. Their arranged marriage was political and he knew better than to expect anything more than a loveless life.

He broke the seal on the envelope and he took out the letter. The paper had the subtle scent of roses. Kuro also found a pressed rose within the envelope and he assumed the scent was from the flower. He was surprised to find a gift with his letter and he twirled the fragile rose between his fingers. Then, he carefully placed the rose aside and read through the letter.

Dear Kuro. I hope you, your family and everyone fighting in the war are doing well. Sadly, I am feeling sick and I cannot write a long reply. I have sent you a rose with this letter. My brother is also fighting in the war and he told me how bleak the battles can be. A rose might not be much but I hope it’ll lift your spirits whenever you need it. Please keep the rose close like a charm so you’ll stay safe.

To answer your question, I adore cats. They’re simple creatures but wonderful companions. I once had a black cat as a pet and it would sit on my lap whenever I was lonely. There are a lot of stray cats in the castle and I would adopt them all if I were allowed. My friend would lecture me if I tried so I’ll have to settle for leaving out food for them.

While he hadn’t met his fiancé before, his family had told him a few things about her. She didn’t seem to be the type to feed stray cats so the letter piqued his interest. Kuro wondered if people were wrong about her. Many people judged his siblings so he sympathized with her if she was in the same situation. He only accepted the marriage for the sake of his family but he wondered if they could be something genuine.

“Mahiru, you have another letter. I thought you said that you would only send one letter. You’re lucky these letters are sent to the castle’s library to be sorted before they’re delivered to everyone.” Misono held out the envelope to Mahiru. Excitement beamed in his brown eyes as he took the letter from his friend. He didn’t know what they wrote to each other about but, from his reaction to the letter, he could see that they had grown close. “I hope you’re being careful when you write to him.”

“Don’t worry, I keep my letters simple.” He assured him. Months had passed since the first letter and they had exchanged countless letters. He didn’t know his fiancé so Mahiru would tell him about his own experiences. He was careful not to be discovered though. They had gotten to know each other through their letters and he learned that Kuro was a funny and thoughtful man. Mahiru felt a little guilty for lying to him. He could only imagine how confused he would be after he meet his fiancé.

Mahiru walked to a private corner of the library so he could read the letter. He opened the window to let in a cool breeze. There were rose bushes next to the window and their pleasant smell soothed him. He sat at the desk and opened Kuro’s letter. He smiled when he found a sketch of a bird attached to the letter. Kuro would often send him pictures to thank him for the flowers he gave him.

Dear Rose, animals don’t visit the camp often but I saw a bird outside my tent this morning. I thought you might like it so I drew a sketch for you. There’s finally a lull in the battle and I can sleep peacefully. I heard the enemy has pulled back their forces and I hope that’s a sign the war will end soon. We can finally meet each other and feed those stray cats you told me about in your first letter.

To be honest, I thought an arranged marriage was troublesome since we’re practically strangers. I’m lucky that my fiancé is someone I can talk to. I’m glad that I wrote a letter to you. All of my siblings are fighting in the war and I don’t know if I’ll have a family to return to when this is over. Meeting you is the one of the things I can look forward to, Rose.

Since Kuro didn’t know his name, he had given him a nickname based on the flower he sent him. His letter went on to tell him about his day and his family. Mahiru looked forward to his letters but he would have mixed feelings at the same time. He hadn’t intended to write more than one reply yet something changed with each letter they exchanged. His small lie had grown and Kuro would be hurt once he met his fiancé who had thrown away his letter.

Mahiru heard a sharp yelp of pain and he turned towards the voice. He leaned out the window to search for the person who was hurt and his eyes fell on a man in a white cloak. The man had a few roses in his arm and Mahiru guessed that he had pricked himself with a thorn. He walked to the window and said, “Excuse me, are you okay, Sir?”

“It’s just a small cut. I’ve gotten worse.” He shrugged.

“You should be mindful of wounds, even if they’re small. May I see your hand?” Mahiru asked. He held out his hand to him and the man laid his hand over his palm in return. Scars lined his fingers but Mahiru didn’t comment on them like the man expected him too. He ripped a strip of cloth from his napkin and then wrapped it around his finger.

“Will I make a full recovery, Doctor?” He asked in a flat voice but the subtle tilt of his lips told him that he was being more teasing than sarcastic. He had a handsome smile and Mahiru wondered who he was. Mahiru knew most of the workers in the castle but he didn’t recognize the man. He was certain he would remember someone with unique red eyes.

“I think you’ll survive. If you want to cut flowers, you should visit the castle’s greenhouse. My friend works there and I can ask him to let you pick a few flowers. Wait here and I’ll show you where the greenhouse is.” Mahiru offered and the man nodded in agreement. He carefully placed Kuro’s letter in his pocket before he left the library to help the man.

The backdoor of the library was nearby and he stepped outside. He stopped at his side and then gestured for him to follow him. They fell into step next to each other and Mahiru watched him from the corner of his eyes. “My name’s Mahiru. I haven’t seen you before. Are you here to visit someone in the castle?”

“I want to surprise my fiancé. She isn’t expecting me to return until a week from now. My brother is over watching my land so I can visit her. I saw roses and I thought I should pick a few for her. That makes me sound like a hopeless romantic, doesn’t it?” He chuckled at himself. His red eyes softened and Mahiru could see that he cared for his fiancé.

“That’s sweet. Your fiancé is lucky to have a caring partner. It’s rare that a person can marry for love rather than for it to be arranged by your parents. I know a lot of the workers in the castle so I might know your fiancé. What’s her name?”

“I don’t know since we’re in an arranged marriage. I wasn’t able to meet her before I joined the war. We’ve spoken through letters though. She sent me a rose and I want to give her one as well.” His words caused Mahiru’s body to stiffen in shock. He couldn’t move as a realization crashed over him.

The man in front of him was Kuro.

“Is something wrong, Mahiru?” Kuro noticed how he stopped walking and he turned back to him. Mahiru had large, expressive brown eyes so Kuro could see his shock. His mind was racing too fast for Mahiru to respond to his question. What could he say? He knew the right thing to do was to tell him the truth before he went to his fiancé.

Mahiru faced Kuro yet his words became caught in his throat. He couldn’t only imagine the hurt on his face when he told him that his fiancé wasn’t the one to write the letter. Kuro was staring at him with confusion so he knew he needed to say something. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to visit your fiancé, Kuro. You’re returning from a war so you should take some time for yourself.”

“… How did you know that my name is Kuro? I haven’t told you my name yet.” Kuro’s brows furrowed as he studied Mahiru. Instead of answering, Mahiru turned on his heel and dashed away from him.

“I should’ve listened to Misono and ignored his letter. What am I going to do now?” Mahiru muttered to himself as he fed the cats. They purred in response to his words and he petted one of the cats. Unfortunately, its soft fur didn’t comfort him like it usually did. Another sigh escaped him and he took out the letter Kuro had sent him. He had to remind himself: “He didn’t send this to me.”

A cat pawed at the paper and Mahiru quickly lifted the letter out of its reach. He was surprised when the letter was stolen from his hand. He looked over his shoulder to see who the person was and he gasped. Kuro stood over him with the letter in his hand. He didn’t appear angry but Mahiru held his breath as he waited for him to speak.

“Do you like cats?” His question was barely a whisper but it caused guilt to squeeze Mahiru’s heart. Kuro didn’t look at him and focused on the cats instead. “My fiancé said she liked to feed the stray cats in the castle. I came here to speak with her but she’s not here. I don’t think she’ll come either. After you ran away, I spoke with my brother who arranged the marriage. He says my fiancé is allergic to cats.”

“She didn’t lie to you and she didn’t tell me to write those letters to you either. Please, don’t be angry with her for something I did on my own.” Mahiru knew that it was pointless to lie to him. His gaze fell to the ground as he explained how he found his letter. “I thought I was sparing your feelings by replying to your letter but I only made this complicated situation. I’m sorry for lying to you about who I was. Everything else I wrote about was the truth though.”

Mahiru felt a warm hand brush over his hair and he finally faced Kuro. Tenderly, he brushed his brown hair from his eyes and then tucked a rose behind his ear. “I told my fiancé that I didn’t want to go through with the arranged marriage. There’s someone I wanted to get to know through more than letters. You’ve never told me about your family, Mahiru.”

“I have a brother and we were raised by my uncle.” Mahiru was relieved that Kuro wasn’t angry with him for lying and he wanted to get to know him more. They already knew each other through their letters so they were able to fall into a conversation easily. He told him about his childhood and petted the cat on his lap. He liked exchanging letters with Kuro but he found that he preferred speaking with him in person.

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Missin’ You is Terrible-Part 3: Fooled Around

Calum isn’t looking for deep feelings, just for some fun. But he’s pretty sure friends with benefits isn’t supposed to go like this. Black!Female Reader. 

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No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go.

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I am not even five feet away from you. You do not have to text me. 

Calum looks up from his phone, to her--brown eyes, rich brown skin, black hair. She’s sitting in her backyard, at the small desk she set up outside, half her manuscript printed out next to her. The cursor on her screen blinking at her to finish the thought. But she is staring at him, her lips quirked into a bemused smirk. She is staring at him and Duke, who rest at Calum’s feet, enjoying the warmth of the wooden deck, soaking into his back. She is staring at the shy smile that takes over Calum’s face, the little scrunch to his cheeks and crinkle around his eyes. She listens to the soft chuckle that escapes his lips as he reaches out for her, wiggling his fingers. She is captivated by his shyness and allured by his softness. 

“Then why did you text me back?” Calum quips, still signaling for her. 

“Because I am working and maybe too lazy to turn around.”

“And yet, you did so anyway.”

She flips him off, turning back to her computer. Calum laughs at the action and pushes from the steps he’s seated, navigating around Duke. He kneads at her shoulders, kissing the crown of her head. It’s not like beautiful days aren’t a common occurrence in LA, but this past week has been too good to Calum. His days are spent watching her write, watching her edit, writing his own stuff. He gets to wake up next to her; gets to fall asleep next to her. He gets to cook for her. They do laundry together, clean while jazz blares over her speakers. 

She melts under his touch, firm enough, but never too hard on her muscles. Plucking away at the keys, she tilts her head, cheek brushing up and down on his fingers. Calum chuckles at the gesture before pinching the fat on the side of her face. “You’re supposed to be writing,” she mutters, cheeks still between his fingers. 

“I’m helping you,” he says, releasing the flesh. “Clearly.”

“Clearly,” she laughs. Duke barks, running down the steps of the porch, chasing after a bird. They watch him run in the grass until the bird wises up and flies off. Duke stops, watching, waiting. He watches the bird flying. She watches him and Calum watches her. He wishes he could bottle this moment, pack it nicely into a cube, carrying it with him everywhere. So he could never be down, so whenever things did get bad, he could pop it open and be reminded of her smile, of the way her lashes curl as she blinks. Be reminded of the way she inhaled, the way her chest rise with the action, the way her fingers curled around his. So he could always be reminded of her, though it’s not like he already wasn’t. The wind blowing a certain way made him swear he caught a whiff of her scent in his nostrils. 

She turns back to her screen, fingers slipping from around his. Calum walks down to the grassy backyard, but not before grabbing the red ball. The second Duke spots it in Cal’s hand, he perks up, already on alert. Cal gives it a gentle toss, the pup sprinting after it. Yeah, if he could bottle this moment up, he would. If he could drown in it, he’d fight every instinct for oxygen. There’s nothing like this. Duke drops the rubber ball at Calum’s feet, eager for the next throw, eager to push his legs over the grass. 

__ “I can’t believe this. You really--,” 

“Yes,” she interrupts him, swiping her thumb under his eyes. “Yes I really did. Do you know how easy it was to get your family on board with this? All them extended their houses. I was flooded with emails--all eager to help you.”

Calum pushes up from the chair, pulling her over the table to him. She said that months ago--promised him on her living room floor that she’d take him to New Zealand. It’s not that he didn’t believe her. He just didn’t think it’d happen now. But it makes sense. Tour is done. All his other obligations are months from now. He finally gets a chance to breathe. She scoots out around from the corner of the table. He buries his face into her shoulder, arms wind so tight around her that they meet the other side of his chest. 

Something is salty against his lips when he pulls back. His vision is a watery mess. He’s crying-no he’s weeping. Sobs are pressing, squeezing his chest. “Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay,” she soothes, grabbing napkins to clean his face. He knows it’s okay. It’s more than okay. He just can’t stop himself, there’s no words to express how overjoyed he is. She’s doing this all for him. Something he’s always wanted to do; all for him. He wraps her into a hug again. She gently rocks him side to side, trailing her fingers through the shaved sides and back. 

“I’m always good on my word,” she chuckles. 

“God, I’ve gotta pack. What about Duke?” he asks, pushing away from her. His mind races now. He needs someone to watch his house. So does she, or at least someone to come around and water all her plants. She’s such a gardener, if her plants were to die while away, she would be crushed. 

“I thought of this. Just take a breath. Finish your pie, we got time. Flight’s in two days.”

Calum nods, exhaling and finally takes the napkins from her. He stares down at the plane ticket. His chest ignites again, his eyes water yet again. “You’re fucking incredible, you know?” he whispers to her. He doesn’t bother wiping the tears. They don’t matter to him, they don’t change meaning if he clears them away. His chest bubbles, his lips curls, his tongue presses into bottom row of his teeth with three words threatening to spill over his throat. But he stops himself, he pulls his tongue back, he straightens as best he can the wobble to his smile. He can’t say those words just yet. 

It feels right, though, he could. He could say it right now. Should he? She starts wiping his cheeks again, pressing short pecks to his reddening cheeks. He grabs her face, pulling her into his lips. It’s salty, the meeting of their lips, due to his tears. But she smiles, that makes it sweet. He can’t say it right now. But he can show it. He can show all the love he feels, even if he’s terrified of the words spilling pasts his lips. 

__ He knows it hasn’t been that long. A few months at the absolute most, but by God, the boy looks half a foot taller. Calum rubs his eyes looking at his cousin, laughing. “When did this happen? I blink and you’re sprouting like a tree.” He wraps the boy in a hug. 

“Just trying to be like you,” the boy grins. The hug last a long moment, but no one minds. His aunt and uncle crowd around, eager to greet, but patient enough. This is a moment she wishes to bottle, though the air has a slight chill to it and her jacket is just thick enough to keep the majority of the chill out. But the smile on his face makes her chest warm. The way his family wraps him in close to their bodies, grins wide, laughs falling from lips easily. This is the laughter of reunion, the ‘oh my god it’s been so long and you’ve grown so much’ laugh. It’s the ‘the gods have lined up and I’m actually seeing you in the flesh and by god I am elated to see you’ laugh. It’s the ‘if you don’t give me a hug to make sure you’re actually real’ laugh. The awe on his cousin’s face let’s her know they needed this just as much as he needed it. 

She’s the last to be hugged, and profusely apologized too. “We swear we’re not rude,” his uncle laughs, hugging her. 

“It’s quite alright. It’s about him anyway.”

In the car, Calum watches intently at the rolling hilltops as they travel down the road. His fingers are thread through hers, thumb brushing over the skin of her hand. She watches him, watching the scenery. She wonders what he’s thinking. It’s breathtaking for sure. The air feels different in her lungs. But she wonders what is this is doing specifically for him. She squeezes his hand. Calum turns to her, a soft smile resting on the corners of his lips. 

“It’s beautiful. Now that I can actually sit down and see it. I love it,” he says. She nods in agreement. 

“Have you ever seen a Haka?” Calum’s cousin directs to her. 

“Not in person. Just online.”

“Has Calum taught you any Maori?”

“Not yet.”

“Is he really as cool as people say he is? I know he’s a rockstar or whatever. But,” the boy raises his eyebrows. 

She laughs, but nods at the question. Calum’s not paying attention, having turned his gaze back to the grassy hillsides. It’s soon replaced by city streets and sidewalks and the bustle of city life. But even if all the slabs of manmade infrastructure the trees are still powerful and towering.He inhales deeply as they exit the car. Yeah, here is different. Here is reaching through the depths of him, touching something he’s always felt distantly there. Always brushed his fingers over it but never firmly grasped it into his hands. 

Is he ready to grasp it now? Can he? He feels a little like a fraud, he embraced it so powerfully before. But as time has gone on, he’s swallowed it back down. So many times he’s been called Asian, too many times he’s felt himself and others brush aside his Māori blood. Is he a fraud? Or is he just still that seventeen year old boy who’s had his trust shattered? Once so connected but battered down by time, once so trusting but hurt by the very arms he fell into. His lower lip wobbles. 

Her voice is soft in his ear. “Hey, earth to Calum.”

He shakes his head, blinking back the start of tears. “Sorry, just thinking.”

Her nails run down his arm, threading her fingers through his. “Do you want to be left alone? I already put your bag inside. They’re prepping us some food.”

No. Maybe. “Just for a moment please?”

“Of course.” She kisses the back of his hand before unraveling her fingers. The door closes quietly behind her. Calum looks to his hand, his mother’s initials staring back at him. He wishes she was here. She’d tell him that it doesn’t matter how his journey of self-acceptance went, doesn’t matter if he feels like he’s regressed, as long as he still takes the journal. Maybe that’s true. Now he wishes she was here, she’d reassure him, she’d wrap him into a hug and rock him gently. 

Calum turns to the front door and steps into the house. It’s warm, smells like home, feels like home. His cousin smiles at his entrance. He steps through the narrow hallway and standing there next to his uncle is his mother. His knees falter right then and there and he leans into the wall next to him for support. “Mum?” Calum’s voice is so quiet it’s barely audible.

She smiles, opening her arms wide. “I been waiting for you,” she laughs, striding over. 

As they hug, Calum feels like a child again, he buries his face into her shoulder, letting the tears slip down his cheeks. “Oh my God. I’m so happy to see you.”

“Hmm, me too, Calum. Me too. Always happy to see my boy.”  

“I love you,” he whispers, only for her to hear, only for her to latch onto. 

“I love you too.”

Later, they sit in the living room, watching TV. Calum’s got an arm around both her and his mother. They recline into him on either side. This is what he needs. Just time to sit in quiet moments. He can tell by the deep breathes that she’s fast asleep, so he wraps his arm tighter around her body, gently rubbing at the base of her neck, right at the edge of her hair line. She loves that spot in particular. “Mum?” he starts softly. 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being more vocal like I used to be about us. I’m not ashamed. I want you to know that. I guess, I’m just, I grew tired of always been mislabeled. I grew tired of being different.”

She smiles at Calum, resting her head onto his shoulder. “We all grew tired. The trick is to find your energy again. Find a way to become reconnected. And I think that girl in your arms is the answer to that question.”

Calum looks down to the sleeping body snuggled into his side. Maybe she is the answer. “I love her,” he says. It’s easier to say to her unconscious body. She doesn’t have to say it back. He doesn't need her too. He’s not even sure he wants her too right now. He wants to linger in this moment, the reality of the words, but without the expectation for reciprocation. He will linger here, in the freedom of finally letting himself fall, knowing that there’s a net to catch him. 

There’s a knock on the door. Calum snaps awake, instinctively pulling her body closer to him. The door creaks open and Joy pops her head in. “Sorry,” she whispers. “Still some sleepyheads, I see.”

Calum chuckles. “We can be awake bodies in a minute.”

Joy chuckles, waving at him. “Rest.” Then she shuts the door. 

Calum rests his head back onto the pillows, eyes closing, right as a muffled voice whispers into his hear. “Think she noticed I’m not wearing a bra or a shirt?”

Calum chuckles. “We’re adults. It doesn’t.”

“I hope it’s not too lame, but there’s this museum I think we should check out.”

“Are you saying we but really mean you want to check out?”

“Maybe,” she huffs with a sleepy chuckle. 

“Tomorrow?”

“Deal.” They hook pinkies, and then drift back to sleep. When they wake again it’s about one. They get dressed and head downstairs. Calum’s cousin is eager to show them around. So they bundle up before starting out of the house. Calum watches the way she asks questions, the way she tries the words on her tongue. They fall awkwardly from her lips, but after a couple tries she finds her way. He watches the way she takes in the scenery around her. He wonders wha his feels like for her. Is she imagining the battles that might’ve taken place right here on this very grass? Is she thinking about the Maori women and men that walked here before her, trying to piece together their story? What pushed them here? Were they just traveling? Did she wonder what business they attended to? He know he did. He wondered all those questions and more. 

“So yeah, silver ferns are a big deal. But Calum’s got fucked up, so here we are,” the boy chuckles pausing at a bench in the park. 

Calum lets the jab go with a shake of his head. He knows the tattoo was not executed well. But it’s the thought that counts. She settles onto the bench next to the younger boy. They talk, she asks about school, what his favorite subjects. He asks what it’s like to be in a publishing firm, still writing her own work. Calum doesn’t say much, watching the exchange, the ease at which she listens to the boy speaks, the way she listens to understand not just respond. They land on the topic of her most recent project, but she shies away from too many details. “Basically,” she starts, “I’m retelling events from the future perspective. So I’m telling a story as present me to past me with all the things we should’ve said or done to see how the events would turn out differently.”

“So you’re basically time traveling?”

She nods. “Yeah in a way. But it’s not fiction full fledge science fiction, or really fiction. It’s a weird mixture of creative nonfiction and elements of science fiction.”

“It sounds interesting. So are you then showing how things change with the information?”

“I thought about it. But that might push nonfiction too far into fiction, which is not what I want to do. I want to it to be a dialogue.

“Can I read some of it? ”

“If you really want to, yeah, sure. Just pretend you know nothing of course.”

The boy chuckles. “I swear to take it to my grave.”

They talk for a little bit longer before wandering back to the house. The second Calum steps through the door he finds his family lined wall to wall, standing, waiting to greet him. The first sound of a stomp echoes in his brain long after the last cry is shouted, long after the tears cloud his vision. He doesn’t consider himself worth of such a greeting, not a haka. Not him, never him. He doesn’t even realize how caught up he got until he realizes how breathless is, until he feels the sweat rolling down his back in his sweatshirt. 

He looks to find her, to see if he really did what he just did. She always grounds him. She’s panting too, grinning, hugging Joy into her side. “I got roped in,” she laughs. “But god was it beautiful. Is it weird to say I saw a rainbow, like a literal rainbow? I’m pretty sure some might call it a hallucination. But I swear to high heavens, I saw a rainbow over you guys in the beginning.”

“She wanted to join. I could tell,” his mom grins, hugging her tighter. “She caught on fast.”

His cousin holds out his phone. “Caught it all on tape for you, Cal.”

“Calum?” 

He turns to the sound of his baby cousin calling him, feeling her tug on his pant leg. He picks her up with a smile then turns to the boy. “I’ll watch later. Thanks.” His throat is dry, his voice sounds shot. What did he do? It’s almost like his consciousness left him, flew straight out of his head and only re-entered once he was done. He remembers nothing. It’s like someone else took over his body. Maybe someone else did. Maybe he needed the hand of some ancestor to reach into his soul and unlock him fully. 

His mother smacks his hand. It’s not hard. More like a gentle tap, a warning that he really should remove his hand. “You keep stealing pieces and we’re going to have none left.”

Calum laughs but retreats. “But your rēwena is the best,” he pouts. 

“I know it is. Now out.”

Walking out of the kitchen he hears the shouts from a phone speaker. One particularly loud shout echoes above the rest. It sounds like him. But also not like him. Peering over the huddled shoulders, Calum watches himself. It’s him he’s staring at, but his gut tells him that it’s not him. It’s something deeper than them on that screen. It’s more than just joining his family in their greeting for him. It’s everything he’s been afraid of spilling over his throat. It’s the fear of sixteen year old him leaving everything he once knew behind. It’s the frustration of feeling himself disconnecting, but feeling like it’s his only option. It’s the terror of being lost, brushed aside, never understood. 

Calum watches himself, teary eyed but smiling, as he lets it all out. As he finally feels welcomed. He’s home. A place always yearned for, but now felt. Then he finds her, in the corner following along with his mother. He would’ve never had this moment of freedom if not for her. He would still be yearning, still be hurt. Not that he’s fully healed now, but it’s a start. Those words are bubbling again against his lips. He looks around the room for her, but then he remembers that she’s in the kitchen. 

Calling out her name, he starts from the living room back to her. She meets him in the hallway, hands wrapped in a towel. “Is something wrong?” her eyes are a little wide. 

The words are falling over his lips before he can stop them. He cups her face with his palms. He zeros in on the deep, almost black, brown to her eyes. “Kei te aroha au i a koe,” he breathes. 

There’s a chorus of aww’s from his younger cousins. She waits, she thinks she knows what he said. “I am not sure what you said exactly. But I’m going to assume it’s sweet by the reaction it just got.”

Calum closes his eyes for a second, laughing at himself before kissing her lips. “I said I love you.” His lips brush over hers as he speak. It feels so right falling off his lips, over his tongue, pass his teeth. “I love you,” he says again kissing her lips. “I love you.” Kiss to her right cheek. “I love you.” He kisses her left cheek. “I love you.” One final kiss to her forehead. 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, he knows. He didn’t plan for this to fall in love with her. This was just supposed to be for fun, someone he could enjoy company with and slide beneath the sheets with. They were only supposed to be be fooling around. But he went along, fooled around, and fell right the fuck in love with her. He’ll be damned if he pretends like it bothers him. He’ll be damned if he lies to her or himself about this. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t say it to her. 

“Teach me,” she utters softly. “Teach me how to say it back.”

Calum shakes his head, her cheeks still warm beneath his palms. “You don’t have to say it back in M.”

“I want to. Because I feel the same way. Now how do I say it? I want to learn.”

Calum breaks it down piece by piece for her, watching the way her lips curl to form the words. Her first attempt isn’t great. He fights to keep the chuckle from bursting through. “Give that one more shot,” he encourages, kissing her hands now wrapped in his. 

“Kei te aroha au i a koe,” she whispers. 

He’s never heard a better phrase falling from her lips. “Perfect, you nailed it.”

“Are you guys done? I’m hungry,” comes one of cousins. They laugh and move out of the way, letting the kids by. Calum hugs her to his chest, burying his face into the top of her hair. 

__

After all the museums and nurseries are visited during their visit, Calum and her sit out under the stars the last night before they leave. It’s beyond cold, but they wrap up in layers and huddle together under a blanket snagged from the hall closet. Every breath exhaled is a ghost escaping their nostrils. “Thank you,” Calum says. “I don’t think I can even begin to describe the experience I’ve had.”

“You’re beyond welcome. It’s amazing here. Your family is beautiful and I love them.”

“They are enamored by you. Everyone loves you.”

“I watched the video of the haka again. I still believe there’s a rainbow.” He disagreed with her upon rewatching it. But he did state that he wasn’t fully conscious during all of that, so he’s not the best judge. Others don’t see it, but she refuses to concede. “But I’m pretty sure your soul like ascended or something. That’s what I believe. Watching you even in that moment, I could tell something was taking over you.”

He nods, humming in agreement. “That’s probably better than I could ever describe it.” Then there’s another moment of silence. Calum ought to say more. He wants to say more. He’s just not sure how to say more. So he squeezes her body and she looks up. “I don’t think I’d have enough tongues to tell you thank you enough.”

Her smile is soft. “It’s alright. You can always try.”

Calum chuckles, leaning down. She captures his lips, her cold and his chapped by the unforgiving chill. He grazes his teeth over her bottom lip, pulling on it. She moans against his mouth, arms tightening around him. Their lips don’t say disconnected for long before Calum kisses her again. She swipes the tip of her tongue over his lips. Releasing a sigh, Calum parts his lips for her. One of her hands slips down his crotch, holding onto his thigh. He shivers a little at the touch and because the blanket starts to slip from around them. He’s normally a warm person, but even this chill bites as his skin. 

She pulls away, throwing the blanket back over her body. “It’s cold.”

“Let’s head inside, yeah?” he breathes against her skin, brushing his nose along her jaw, pressing butterfly kisses to her neck. “Think you can keep quiet.”

“I’m less concerned about me and more concerned about you keeping quiet,” she chuckles. 

“You’re right,” he laughs, resting his head onto her shoulder. He knows he can be particular vocal. She holds him tight, occasionally brushing her nails over her scalp. Calum wraps his arms around her waist as she reclines into the railing of the deck for support. “But it’s way too cold to do anything out here.”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait. What a shame.”

Calum closes his eyes, inhaling her scent. “I’m okay with that,” he murmurs. He’s not even sure that the sentence is audible. He’s okay with just sitting in this moment even though it’s cold. She makes him feel connected, feel at home, feel loved. She makes him warm on the inside.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood smut #calum hood imagine #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #5sos smut #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes #michael clifford #luke hemmings #ashton irwin

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Doyenne ~ Part 1

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs the help of one of Birmingham’s most successful and secretive underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all. 

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word Count: 2591

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Thomas Shelby awaited your arrival anxiously in his office. He’d never admit it but he was always slightly anxious when it came to making deals, especially with new partners. With old associates, like Alfie Solomons, Tommy could predict their actions. He knew the likelihood of them double crossing him, how much threatening it would take to get them to comply, and who to threaten to harm if they didn’t. There was too much out of control with new potential business partners. 

You, on the other hand, loved making new business partners. Your “business,” as one could call it, was much more underground than a lot of the other ones like it but that didn’t mean that you were unsuccessful. Quite the contrary. In fact, you were the leading exporter of whiskey to the United States, had control of the fighting rings, and had begun to dabble in money laundering and counterfeiting. Unlike the men, however, you kept your dealings quiet. All these other gangs liked to do things like offer protection or have designated territories that others could get shot for stepping foot in. All of this was unnecessary to you and, typically, you preferred to stay out of it, but when Thomas Shelby requested a meeting, you couldn’t resist. 

At 10:00 am sharp, you found yourself walking into the doors of Shelby Company Limited. You looked around, noting the dark colors on the walls and all of the wooden furniture. You made sure to take note of every door and window that you could see and the position of all the employees around the building. Some might call it paranoia, but you preferred to call it covering your bases. No such thing as being too careful when it came to dealing with gangsters. 

“Can I help you, miss?” A gruff voice asked. You looked up to see a man with the same haircut as all the other men here, buzzed short on the side and long on top, and a large mustache over his top lip. 

“I’m here to see Thomas Shelby.” You explained. 

The man shook his head slightly, “May I ask what for?” The words were polite but his tone was interrogative. 

You weren’t sure who this man was or what he was allowed to know. “I have a meeting with him at ten,” you paused, making a show of checking your pocket watch, trying to indicate that you didn’t have time for this go around, “Or well, now, I suppose.” 

The man looked you up and down before nodding, “Follow me.” You followed him to an office in the back, “You have a meeting at ten? Tommy doesn’t usually do business with representatives. Where is Mr. L/N?” He asked. 

You nodded, “I am L/N. Y/N L/N.” Every time you went in for a meeting with anyone, this happened. They always expected a man. The man’s eyes widened in realization but you saw his expression lighten just slightly. “You are?” 

“Arthur Shelby. Vice President of Shelby Company Limited.” He announced, stopping at a door that clearly read Thomas Shelby, CEO. 

You extended your hand to the man, “Well, thank you Mr. Shelby. It’s nice to meet you.” Arthur’s eyes flickered to your hand for a moment before taking it, shaking it hesitantly. 

He rapped his knuckles on the wooden door. “Tommy. I have L/N here to see you.” 

“Come in.” A rough voice answered from the other side of the door. Arthur opened it and you stepped inside. The office was quite spacious and clean for the most part. 

A rather attractive man that you correctly assumed to be Thomas Shelby sat at the desk facing you, removing his glasses and looking at you with confusion in his piercing blue eyes, “Who are you?” He questioned bluntly. 

Every time. 

“L/N. Y/N L/N. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Shelby.” You took the initiative to introduce yourself.

The confused look melted away, quickly fronted with sudden professionalism. He stood up front behind his desk and readjusted his black jacket just enough to flash the pistol at his side, an action you assumed was a habit of his when meeting new people to intimidate them as if everyone in this line of work wasn’t armed. “Of course, Miss. L/N. My apologies. I was just expecting a-” 

“Man. I know. Most people do. We came to discuss business though. Correct, Mr. Shelby?” You asked, eyebrow raised. Straight to the point, concise. It showed that you meant business and didn’t come to be dismissed due to your gender. 

Thomas nodded, “Ah, yes. Please, have a seat.” He extended his hand, gesturing to the seat across the desk from him. “Thank you, Arthur, we have it from here.” You had forgotten that the other Shelby brother was still in the room. Without glancing back, you heard the door close behind you. 

“So, Miss. L/N, you’re the head of the Hemlock Angels?” Tommy leaned back in his chair, glancing down into his glass of what you knew was whiskey. 

The name always made you cringe inside, never intending for your operation to have an official name. But Tommy didn’t need to know that. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.” You answered straightforwardly. 

“You’re a very difficult person to find.” He noted, leaning forward now.

You nodded, “That’s how I prefer to keep it. It’s hard to run these sorts of businesses in the open. I would say I’m sure you would understand but the Peaky Blinders have been running the streets for the last decade or so quite publicly, if I remember correctly.”

“We all had our quiet beginnings. It would just appear to me that perhaps our goals were different.” He sipped his drink, “But back to what I called you for. From what I hear, you export whiskey to America, correct?” 

You crossed your legs, sitting back in your chair, “That is true.” 

Tommy continued, “And I hear you also counterfeit and launder money?” “Yes.” You confirmed. 

His fingers laced together on his desktop. “I need your services. I’ve come into possession of certain… acquisitions that I need transported to America discreetly. I currently have no secure means of transportation.” 

You cocked your head slightly, listening intently to him with a straight face, “And you wish to transport your acquisitions with my alcohol?” 

The man nodded, “Yes. And as for the money, I need $100,000 American dollars counterfeited.” 

At that request, you shook your head, “I don’t do American dollars.” 

“If you can make British money, there must be a way to make American money. They don’t need to be perfect. In fact, I only need them to pass at a glance. I need the police to be able to detect them as counterfeits.” Tommy explained. 

Your eyebrows scrunched, “Why do you need the police to detect them? And wouldn’t that just trace the money back to us?” 

Tommy inhaled audibly, “I’m assuming that you have secure methods of ground transport for your whiskey. I, however, am relying on people I’ve never met personally before. I also happen to have people who’ve double crossed me and think I don’t know about it. I owe the latter group $100,000 American dollars. The plan is to give them the money and call in to the police about it. Have their whole operation busted. While the police are occupied with such a huge bust, we’ll be moving our goods with less of a chance of getting caught.”

“That seems like quite a bit of hassle for something that is only a diversion. Forgive me for saying so but this doesn’t seem like a very foolproof plan, Mr. Shelby. I don’t think I’m willing to risk my assets for this.” You admitted honestly. 

“The counterfeit bills are not only a diversion but the ends to another deal with an old partner. Don’t think of it as a diversion. It’s killing two birds with one stone. And as for the security of this plan and your assets, rest assured that I’m no amateur, Miss. L/N. I am in control of everything. There are no loose ends.” Tommy’s words were spoken with reassurance but his tone also told you that he didn’t appreciate his skills being doubted. 

You leaned forward, “And all of this in exchange for…?” You were curious as to what he’d offer. How would he know what you wanted or what your company needed? 

Tommy tapped his hand on the desk, “I figure you name your price. We can negotiate from there.” 

Well this was new. Usually people came in with their offer already prepared. You thought for a moment. What did you need? “Protection.” 

“I can offer men to keep you safe.” 

You shook your head with a chuckle and side smile, “You misunderstand, Mr. Shelby. I’m a big girl. I can keep myself safe. I need legal protection. From what I understand, you have an in with Winston Churchill. I have some exports that were seized by cops on the way to the drop off site. The number of whiskey bottles lost is not the concern but the men who were transporting them were good men. They have children and wives. We have a protocol in place just in case anything was ever seized. A specific story they've been instructed to tell to keep the company safe and keep them in as little trouble as possible. Considering our distillery hasn't been raided yet, I'm assuming they did as instructed. I need them released."

Tommy drew a sharp breath between his teeth and shook his head slightly, "I did have an in with Churchill but he's already done favors for me. I can't ask him for another." 

Grabbing your bag, you shifted to begin to stand, "Well thank you for your time Mr. Shelby but that's all that I'm in need of at this time. Unfortunately, it seems like this deal won't work out after all." 

"Wait, wait," Tommy put a hand up and you returned to your seat, "Now, look. I have no more pull now with Churchill but I have come into some incriminating on the Chief of Police. Career ruining information. If you provide me with $100,000 American dollars and use of your transportation, we will blackmail the chief into releasing your men.” 

A small smile cracked on your lips and you nodded in agreement, your fingers crossed in your lap. But there was still something that had been concerning you since you heard that the infamous Thomas Shelby even wanted to speak with you. “One last issue I wanted to discuss with you, though, prior to finalizing this deal-” 

“Is…?” He interrupted. 

“Is that many people I know that’ve worked with you have warned me that you’re not to be trusted. I’ve heard stories of you double crossing partners, coming up short on your end, and sometimes not upholding your end at all. ‘Sudden changes to the agreement’, you called it I believe? I’ve been told that you force people to cooperate by threatening to kill them, even if they held up their end of the bargain.” You cocked an eyebrow, allowing him time to figure out exactly what you were insinuating. 

You leaned forward, elbows now on his desk resting eye level with him. His face was emotionless but his eyes showed that he was deep in thought, trying to figure out what to say. But rather than let him, you continued, “Mr. Shelby, I do not do business with liars and crooks. The way it sounds like you make deals, it’s a miracle you even have people still willing to do business with you. I am willing to give this a chance but I am telling you this now. You will not fuck me over. I don’t care who you are or what you do. Because your past dealings have left you with a less than stellar reputation as a business partner, this is how things are gonna go: you’re going to get my men released. Then and only then will I hand over the money and accept whatever cargo it is that you’re shipping.” 

Even when you were done, you didn’t lean back. You stayed put, eyes locked with his, not backing down. Your face was serious, eyebrows raised slightly, daring him to protest. The air hung thick between the two of you in the brief moments of silence where you found yourselves locked in each other’s eyes. It was like when you stared at a buck through the sights of a rifle, reveling in the beauty of the creature but also ready to pull the trigger. He leaned across the table, pointing a finger at you and speaking sternly but low, “Who the fuck do you think you are, coming into my office and telling me how things are gonna go?” 

“I’m the person who has everything you need when you’re simply doing me a convenience. Y’see, I don’t need you. In time, I will get my men released without you. You’re simply expediting the process. I, on the other hand, am the best in the country in everything you need done.” Judging by the fire behind his eyes, he wasn’t used to being talked to like this, especially by a woman. You could see the cogs working in his head, trying to formulate an appropriate response to this. Usually, with the men, it was all violence and threats. But even Tommy knew that women typically took a different approach. Or maybe he could benefit from it. 

“I don’t need you. I need your resources. If I wanted to, I could have you killed and your assets seized. Whatever press you print your counterfeits on would be in my possession and I’m sure your employees wouldn’t mind telling me how you transport your whiskey to America given the right encouragement.” His threat rambled on but you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Ah, Mr. Shelby, you’re already off to a bad start with all these threats! See, you do need me. You don’t know where my distillery is or where we print bills or where we ship things from. You didn’t even know I was a woman. You know nothing and it scares you. Your insecurity shows through in the form of unnecessary violence. I’m not intimidated, though. And quite frankly, I’m tired of all of this back and forth. I simply needed to express to you that you will be upholding your end of the bargain without any threats and/or manipulation. I am, however, still willing to go through with all of this if you’re willing to meet my requirements.” 

Tommy though for a moment. Was he able to pull this off? Sure, he did actually have dirt on the chief of police, and most men in power always caved in when their job was on the line, but how soon could he pull this off? It didn’t matter. These were logistics he’d figure out later. 

Confidently, he nodded, “Alright, Miss. L/N. $50,000 American dollars up front before the men are released, the other $50,000 after. Final offer. Consider it a show of good faith on your end as well.” 

Internally, you snickered at him for treating counterfeit bills as if they were the real deal, but you shook his hand nonetheless, figuring if it made him seal the deal, it was worth it. “It sounds like we have a deal then, Mr. Shelby.” 

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby #doyenne

[boleynhowards]

thank you for your request, anon!

i wasn’t sure whether you wanted this to be read a ship or not so i hope i could capture it in a way that isn’t explicitly either or.

i also hope you don’t mind that i gave it a semi happy ending.

masterpost, for more SIX works.

I’m Still Learning

2954 words. TW: implied sexual assault, panic attack.

Betrayal was perhaps the best word to describe how Katherine was feeling as she read the words on the page. They stared at her, a big bolded headline standing out against the bland white background, and she couldn’t help the unsettling feeling that crept up her spine as a result of them.

Truly, she hadn’t meant to come to this point. Her clock read a quarter past four in the morning but Kat still hadn’t slept a wink. It was one of those nights that even exhaustion couldn’t coax her to unconsciousness, her mind plagued with memories of the past that prohibited her from sleeping. Rather than wake up Anne or Jane and bother them though, she decided to cope by staying up watching Disney movies on her laptop. That worked for the five hours it lasted from eleven pm the night before, but now she was tasked with falling asleep again before the sunrise.

That’s how she ended up on this Tudor history blog; a combination of unwillingness to sleep and morbid curiosity. That same macabre inquisitiveness pushed her to scroll past the title and read the actual post below, but she didn’t even get through the first paragraph before she was throwing her phone against the wall and sobbing into her shaking hands.

The feeling of hands all over her body began to take over, and with the light from her phone being discarded as she threw it moments before, the pressure got worse as she couldn’t see if the hands were real or not. Kat slapped at the intrusive hands but was only met with her palm harshly swatting her own body which caused an eruption of pain wherever she landed. But the hands felt so real and the faces in mind felt inches away from her, so she had to continue fighting.

Despite her efforts to stay quiet so as not to alert the other queens and not to anger her assaulters further, Kat hadn’t noticed how her jagged breaths turned to whimpers turned to low begs to stop. As such, it should have come as no surprise when the door swung open and in rushed Catherine Parr to the bedside to help.

“Kat-“

Mistake. As soon as Cathy spoke up and Kat shot her head up to see who it was, everything worsened by a million. The younger queen stared for a few brief seconds, frozen in place from her terror. Then, with the article she just read fresh in mind, survival instincts kicked in and Kat released a shrill scream before pulling her arm back and throwing a fist at Cathy in self defence.

All chaos broke loose after that. The combination of Kat’s shriek and the pained and confused yell that Cathy emanated was enough to wake up the four other queens they shared a house with. First the hallway light flickered on as a panicked Jane Seymour clambered out of bed, followed in wake by Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn and Anna of Cleves. Then the door to Kat’s room flew open again, revealing the four newly awakened queens.

Jane was the first to rush in and enter, arm raised as the racketing yells of fear and pain caused her to assume a home invader had broken in. However, as soon as Aragon turned the light of Kat’s room on, the four queens were greeted by nothing of the sort. Instead, Cathy was kneeling next to Kat’s bed with her hand over her bloodied nose and, on the other side of the room, Kat had stumbled into the corner - as far away from Cathy as possible.

Though confused, the queens sprung into necessary action. Jane and Anne rushed to Kat’s side, checking to see if she was okay and launching into comfort. Aragon approached Cathy, gently pulling her up and guiding her to the bathroom - presumably to clean up her face. Whilst this all happened, Anna surveyed the room in an almost investigatory way. That was when she noticed Kat’s phone, strangely laying screen down by the wardrobe, almost having been slidden underneath it.

Anna bent down and picked up her phone, cringing when she saw the large and fresh crack over the screen. That worry dispelled entirely as she read the text actually on the screen, and suddenly the whole scene she had walked in on made sense. The headline that had garnered Kat’s panic still shone on the page, and Anna couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her.

Was Henry VIII’s sixth wife really so saintly? Research suggests Catherine Parr joined husband Thomas Seymour in sexual abuse of teenage...

A sick feeling come across Anna but, despite temptation, she neglected to read on. There was a chance the article could have been a fabrication of history- she really, really hoped so- and so, trying not to make too quick a judgement in a dire situation, she pocketed Kat’s phone to stop the fifth queen from reading the article.. and to show it to the others after the current situation was dealt with.

Approaching the trio in the corner, Anna kneeled pitifully with them, not quite being able to bring herself to go to the bathroom with Cathy just yet. She hated having doubt but she needed to know if this was true - she knew they needed to clean this up as soon as possible. Especially for the sake of the panic stricken Katherine Howard.

-

Four days after that nighttime event and there was still a tense atmosphere in the house. Given the circumstances, it was understandable for there to be an awkward rift in their home - it was just a question of when (or if) it would be sorted.

Communication was what the queens built the foundation of their trust on, and suddenly it felt desecrated by the discovery of that article by Kat. What was worse was that, despite Cathy’s best efforts, Kat seemed uninterested in making amends. Even with reassurance from some of the other queens, it was easy to tell by the way she rushed from the room to avoid her that Kat was fearful of Cathy.

That fact didn’t rest well with the sixth queen. Being almost always awake, she had become one of the people who overheard Kat’s night terrors the most and subsequently one of her most frequent comforters during the night; that’s why she had been the one to run in a few nights ago. She had seen first hand just how scared Kat got, how realistic those terrors were for her - to be the one instilling that fear, even if it was inadvertently, was a guilt Cathy abhorred.

Idealistically, she would have liked to have sought out Kat and talk to her about it right away. She wanted to clear things up between them; to apologise and to amend their situation. That was growing to be an impossible task when Kat wouldn’t answer to her, would leave the room when she would enter and just relentlessly avoid her.

Sighing, Cathy laid in bed that morning and started at the ceiling. It had been another sleepless night with not much productivity. Her notebook laid idly on her desk and had been for a while, but due her fleeting inspiration she didn’t get up and write in it. Another idea would be to try and get some sleep, but the chirruping of the birds and the light peeking in through her blinds suggested it was too late for that.

So Cathy laid and waited and thought about what she could do given her current situation. It was only when she heard steps down the stairs and someone walking around in the kitchen that she finally decided to get up again, rubbing her eyes as if she had actually been sleeping.

The clock beside her read seven thirty two. Only one queen would be up this early; Jane. She was almost always the queen who woke up first and tended to use that time alone to prepare the kitchen for breakfast, ready for when the other queens would wake up. Figuring she could use a coffee and someone to talk to, Cathy stood up, slipped on her dressing grown and began to make her way down to meet her.

“Morning, Jane.” Cathy greeted as she walked into the kitchen, only to look up and double take.

It was certainly not Jane Seymour who woke up first that morning. Rather Katherine Howard stood over the hot drinks machine, clearly struggling to figure out how it worked. As soon as she heard Cathy though, the cocoa powder she was trying to insert became an obsolete worry as she turned on her heel and was greeted by more sinister sights.

Kat thought it was the worst scenario to be in. She was alone in the room with her for starters, but worse was that she stood in the exit’s way, leaving her trapped. Before she could react though, Cathy spoke again.

“I can help you, if you’d like.” She gestured at the drinks machine behind Kat though making sure to stay in place. She feared that by approaching Kat she might scare her off.

Considering the situation they were in, Cathy was pleasantly surprised when Kat finally gave her a small nod, stepping aside to make room. She smiled gratefully, trying to show her that she wasn’t out to hurt her as she stepped up to the machine and began to look at what the problem was. It was quick to realise.

“You’ve got it on the wrong setting, love.” Cathy pointed out the nozzle which was fixed over the coffee funnel. “That’s my fault, I probably use this machine the most. Here.”

She made a light joke before taking the packet of cocoa powder from Kat’s hands and setting the machine correctly as she poured the powder into the slot. There was a silence as they waited for the beverage to brew, and although it wasn’t the most comfortable situation ever, Cathy was grateful for the fact that Kat hadn’t run from the room yet.

When the mug had filled, Cathy took it and placed it in front of Kat, who had taken to sitting at the table while she waited. She then dropped a handful of mini marshmallows over the top to finish, “I know Jane says they’re not for breakfast but she’s not here right now.” She pointed out with a grin.

“Thanks.” Kat smiled a little to show her appreciation and even though her volume was small and her beam was even tinier Cathy couldn’t help but feel feel relieved.

It was then, as they sat again in a hard silence, Cathy noticed her opportunity. She had Kat here, alone and slightly more comfortable than she would have expected. Knowing what she had to do, she cautiously sat on the other end of the table. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Kat’s expression was unreadable and for a moment Cathy was regretting to bring this up. Just as she was about to drop the subject, Kat simply nodded and allowed Cathy to continue.

“Talk about what happened the other night-“

“Why didn’t you tell me about what that article said?” Kat interrupted her suddenly, much to Cathy’s surprise. Her tone was one of pure upset which only made Cathy feel more guilty.

“I’m sorry.” That was all Cathy could even begin to think of saying.

“Was it true then? Did you...?” Kat trailed off, not wanting to repeat the words she read a few nights ago.

“Partially.” It took Cathy some time to come up with what she was going to say, but she settled with that before explaining herself further. “I mean... at first I thought it was just fun and games. When I realised what he was actually doing, I stopped right away, I swear. I tried to get the girls sent someplace else, away from him. If it was a different time, I would have went with them. But I didn’t, because I needed him... and I loved him. For that, I’m so sorry, Kat. If I could go back and change it or do something more to apologise, I would.”

“You sat with me at night though, God knows how many times.” Kat pointed out, “You felt okay with that... after doing that?”

“It wasn’t a matter of whether I felt okay with it or not. Foremost, I wanted to help you. But, yes, I guess there was a bit of me that had what happened in the past in my mind. And I didn’t want to ignore it or let it silently sweep under the mat like how I did back then. I’ll never be able to change what I did and I’m forever going to be ashamed for it, which is why I want to be there for you more than anyone or anything else; not to rectify the past, I can’t do that anymore, but to make sure I don’t make the same mistakes in the future.”

When Cathy finished, Kat looked deep in thought. Her features were still pained but she also seemed to be trying to be considerate. Typical, Cathy thought, Katherine was always way too nice.

“I understand.” Kat said after a while, struggling to come up with something else. She couldn’t quite utter forgiveness; not yet. Luckily, Cathy seemed to notice this.

“That’s all I ask.” Cathy reassured, “And I’m so thankful for that. I don’t expect you to forgive me, and I understand if you never want to. I just hope you can see I’m trying to amend this as best I can, even if I can’t ever do it enough. I also understand if you don’t want to speak to me again or-“

“Cathy, I do want to speak to you again. Why do you think I stayed in here this long?” As she spoke, Kat finally took a sip from the mug in front of her, “I mean... yeah, I have been avoiding you and I was scared when you walked in just now. But I’ve also been noticing how stagnant the house feels now. That and I’ve been thinking about all the times you did lay awake with me until I went back to sleep or when you rushed into my room to see if I was okay. I was confused about it ‘til now because of what you just told me. I am a little apprehensive thinking about what you did, but I also see that you are actually apologetic; which is a lot more than what I could have asked from everyone else. It’ll take some time but I don’t want to throw us away, Cathy. We’ve all made mistakes, some of us worse than others, but now I know you’re sorry and you’re trying to fix them... I’m a little calmer. I just hope this is okay for me to ask of you.”

Her voice was shaky as she spoke and she still had that nervous energy about her but Cathy was taken aback by the firmness and decisiveness of Kat’s words. She hadn’t expected the younger to come out with that at all.

“You’re not asking for too much! It feels like you’re giving me way too much, if I’m being honest.” Cathy was astounded, relieved and grateful. “Of course. I understand and I’m willing to wait and put in all the effort just to make us the same again. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“You’re already doing everything you can.” Kat shrugged nonchalantly before glancing up at Cathy, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Wouldn’t mind you grabbing me some chocolate from the shop today, though.” She nodded toward the house rota attached to the fridge; Cathy on the grocery run for the day.

“Wow, okay.” Cathy rolled her eyes but had to hand it to her, “Should’ve seen that one coming. But sure I will.” She stood up with a grin before grabbing a mug from the cupboard and approaching the drinks machine for the second time that day, switching it back to the coffee setting once more.

It had been a great outcome, Cathy thought. Sure, there was still lots to come and of course they weren’t suddenly back where they were, but it had been a huge step in a good direction. At the very least, her period of unsureness and unspoken guilt was over.

When Jane walked into the kitchen a little while after their conversation, she tried not to act surprised at the two girls in the same room. Coexisting peacefully.

“Morning Jane, figured I’d get a head start on you today.” Cathy proudly gestured to the coffee in her hands and the hot chocolate that was in front of Kat. Before Jane could respond though, she was being dragged to the table by the younger.

“Mum! I was reading online about this theme park, and...”

Cathy smiled sadly as Jane’s attention was diverted down to the screen of Kat’s tablet - the younger queen clearly trying to make a pitch for a day out. Of course she couldn’t expect herself to be reiterated into the group that quickly. They had just talked about that.

As Aragon, Anne and Anna began to make their appearances into the kitchen, Cathy stood in thought. She was going to prove herself, to build a bridge and a better future no matter how long that took.

Then maybe she might be invited to that theme park trip. For now, she would start off small.

(As small as grabbing Kat a little more than just chocolate from the grocery run later that day could be, anyway.)

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #angst with a happy ending #parrward #catherine parr #katherine howard #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves

[ineffably-good]

London Calling (2/4)

Read on AO3

Summary: Crowley and Frederick ride the underground, Frederick tries to learn about girls, and Crowley makes a misstep.

Part 8 of the Serpent and the Seagull series, which you can find here. 

___

For the first outing, Crowley decided to keep it simple; he took Frederick out in his carrier to ride the Tube and people watch. Crowley wasn’t the biggest fan of the London Underground, but it seemed like a good way to begin getting Frederick used to being around large quantities of people.

Frederick, to his credit, seemed quite excited about the outing, and agreed to be on his best behavior. He kept quiet and well-behaved as Crowley walked with him down to the nearest  station, where they purchased a fare and caught the train towards the center of town.

“Ok, Freddy,” Crowley said quietly as they settled into a seat with the carrier on his lap. “Have a good look around. This is probably more people than you���ve ever seen in your life.”

WHERE ARE THEY ALL GOING, SNAKEBIRD?

“It’s Crowley,” Crowley reminded him. “And they’re all going different places. Work. Home. Off to do fun things. Off to do boring things.”

“Is that a snake?” asked a girl who was two seats over from them. Crowley looked up and noted her exaggerated eyeliner, long dark hair, and heavy bangs. “Oh my gosh, can I see? I just love snakes!”

Crowley smiled and made an inviting gesture. She scooted towards them and leaned down to peek in at his companion.

WHY HELLO THERE, GORGEOUS, Frederick shouted. ARE YOU PART SNAKE TOO?

Crowley stifled a laugh.

“He’s so handsome!” the girl said. “Can I hold him?”

YOU CAN DO MORE THAN THAT, SWEET LIPS! Frederick said, scenting out with his tongue and filing away the variety of interesting things this human smelled like. Mostly herbs.

“Best not,” Crowley said, apologetically. “It’s his first time out in public.”

The girl continued to talk to and coo over Frederick, asking the occasional question of Crowley about his breed and how to care for him. Crowley, feeling a bit like a proud father, happily talked snake care with her until the next stop, where she reluctantly left them.

WHY DIDN’T YOU LET THE PRETTY GIRL HOLD ME, YOU BIG POINTY JERK? Frederick shrieked as soon as she was gone.  

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Trust me. You don’t want to be handled by random strangers. It just gets weird, fast.”

Frederick sulked but settled down. Perhaps next time. He’d never personally met a girl before, although he saw them now and then in the shop. He had… questions. Like what was actually different about them, and did they come in the pointy and soft varieties like his friends did, and above all, were they as annoying as the male folks he lived with? He suspected not, for some reason. He thought he’d like to find out.

A few stops later, an enormous bald man with a goatee got on and sat down across from them. He was wearing a long trench coat, had a variety of interesting piercings on his face and ears, and on his shoulder was perched a large, live parrot.

Frederick began excitedly tapping on the front door of his case with his forehead.

THAT ONE HAS A BIRD! LET ME OUT! I WANT TO SEE THE BIRD! WHY IS IT GREEN? I DIDN’T KNOW BIRDS COULD BE GREEN!

“Yes, I know,” Crowley said quietly. “Calm down. You can’t eat him, he’s too big.”

The large man across the way looked at him strangely. “Did you say something to me?”

Oh, good grief, Crowley thought, I’m going to get beat up on the Tube because of a talking snake who no one else can hear. Aziraphale is going to kill me.  

“Sorry,” Crowley said, smiling tightly and gesturing at the box in his lap. “My snake is all worked up because he’s never seen a parrot before.”

The man eyed him warily and then pointedly got up to move to another car.

“Enough from you,” Crowley hissed. “Settle down before you get us in trouble.”

They rode for a while longer, switching lines occasionally and visiting various stations. Frederick seemed to enjoy some of the musicians playing at various stops, and had quite a lot to say about various people they encountered.

Crowley, in turn, found that carrying a pet snake around on the Tube was an excellent way to meet new potential dating partners, something he had literally zero interest in but which he filed away to tell Adam about when he got to be a little older. He had, in a single afternoon, received three numbers scrawled on slips of paper, one number written on the back of his hand in ink, and an oddly explicit photograph that someone had somehow dropped onto his phone with a caption that would make even a demon blush. He quickly deleted it before Aziraphale had a chance to see it.

It was enough to make a demon glad he was off the market, so to speak.

++

“How did it go?” Aziraphale asked with a smile when they arrived back at the shop later in the day. He carefully closed the book he had been staring at for the last two hours. He wasn’t sure he’d succeeded in reading a single page due to his low-level worry and building anxiety about what his two loves were up to out in the wider world.

“Not bad!” Crowley said, putting an exhausted Frederick into his basket. “He met a parrot, heard some music, met a girl – you know, your average day out.”

“Met a girl?” The angel peered over the tops of his glasses. “What on earth?”

Crowley grinned. “Yes, our Freddy is proving quite popular with the ladies.”

He slipped over behind Aziraphale’s desk chair and gave him a hug from behind, placing his chin on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“Mmmmm,” Aziraphale murmured, enjoying the touch. “I’m so glad you had a nice –”

He suddenly lost his train of thought, looking intently at the demon’s hand over his. “Why is there a phone number with a heart around it written on your hand?”

If Crowley had been in touch with his more sensitive side, he would have known instinctively that this was not a good time to laugh and make light of things. Unfortunately, though, Crowley’s sensitive side was something he had spent most of the last six thousand years doing his best to stay far, far away from, as it caused him no end of embarrassment on most occasions. He had not yet fully adjusted to needing it as often as one did in a relationship.

Therefore, he plowed ahead.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley laughed. “it’s nothing to worry about! Apparently, traveling around with a snake is like catnip to certain types of humans!” He dug into his pockets and dumped several balled-up slips of paper into Aziraphale’s lap with a grin. “Look, I got three phone numbers and a naughty picture! Which I deleted.”

Aziraphale stiffened and peeled himself away from Crowley, who wandered over to the couch and sat down. The angel stared down at the papers in his lap and then blinked a few times at the unconcerned demon before finally finding his voice.

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale asked, one eyebrow sliding up and his voice moving into that impeccable politeness which always signaled trouble.

“I’m just saying a few people tried to pick me up, today,” the demon said, uncomfortably aware that his partner didn’t seem to be finding this amusing. “You know. As they sometimes do.”

“And were you encouraging it?” Aziraphale asked, moving from stiff to positively glowering.

“No!” Crowley said. “Honestly, I wasn’t. It’s just – carrying around a snake apparently makes you very attractive to a certain crowd! People kept noticing that I had a snake and coming over to see him, then trying to get friendly with me. Honestly, I didn’t encourage any of them!”

“Anthony J. Crowley,” Aziraphale said sternly.  “I know you and I know you are an incorrigible flirt. And for heaven’s sake, I realize you’re quite attractive and that everywhere we go people notice you. But if you think coming home with people’s phone numbers written all over you –”

“It’s just one! One phone number! That’s hardly –”

“—and then dumping a pile of love notes in my lap is any way to behave, then you, my dear, have clearly lost your mind.”

Crowley fidgeted under Aziraphale’s withering glare. Aziraphale looked, he thought, like he was about to start manifesting some extra eyes.  

“I’m sorry,” he said forlornly. “I honestly thought you’d think it was funny.”

“Funny?”

“Well, because it’s ridiculous,” Crowley said. “Like I could ever be interested in anyone else but you.”

Aziraphale softened a little, but hrmphed noncommittally.

Crowley patted the couch next to him. “Come over here, please?”

“Not until you remove that phone number from your hand!” Aziraphale insisted.

Crowley licked his thumb and scrubbed the number off, quickly. “Look, it’s gone, okay?” he said, waving his now clean hand. “Promise.”

Aziraphale snapped and the balled up pieces of paper exploded into dust. The dust made him sneeze, which made him look even more cross, but he did relent enough to thump down into the seat next to his love, arms crossed over his chest.  

Crowley leaned in and ran a hand through Aziraphale’s curly gold hair. “You’re handsome when you’re jealous, angel,” he said softly. “Kind of does things to me, seeing you like this.”

“Oh you,” Aziraphale muttered. “You’re impossible.”

Crowley leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the angel’s temple, then his earlobe. “I am,” he agreed, continuing to plant little kisses and run a finger down the angel’s neck. “And I’m all yours. Promise.”

The tension tipped out of Aziraphale’s shoulders, and he pulled Crowley in to kiss him quite forcefully.

“Quite right, serpent,” he said. “Try to keep that in mind, would you?”

Nothing further was said for quite some time.

++

“No more picking up girls, Frederick,” Crowley told him the next day. “You got me in big trouble with Aziraphale yesterday.”

Frederick flicked a tongue at him. He hardly saw how this could be considered his fault. He was just too attractive. It was a terrible burden. He was secretly sure that all those people passing Crowley their phone numbers were just using the pointy one to get to him.

HOW ABOUT WE GO MEET SOME ANIMALS, THEN? Frederick thought. I MEAN, IF YOU CAN AVOID TRYING TO MATE WITH ANY OF THEM.

Crowley wagged a finger at him. “Rude little snakes don’t get taken anywhere,” he scolded. “I think we will just stay home today while you work on your manners.”

++

“Frederick,” Aziraphale said later that afternoon. Crowley was out doing heaven knows what, and he and Frederick were taking a little break to curl up together by the window. “You need to keep Crowley out of trouble when you’re out.”

Frederick craned a neck up to look at the fluffy one from his position coiled on the front of his waist coat. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“He’s very susceptible to trouble, you know,” the angel continued, stroking a hand down the snake’s scales. “Comes with the territory. You need to keep an eye on him.”

This was, Frederick thought, truly the most ridiculous suggestion anyone had ever made to a snake in possibly the whole history of the world. He, all twenty-four inches of him, was supposed to keep Crowley out of trouble? But then again, it was Aziraphale asking it of him, so he tried to wrap his brain around it. He nuzzled lovingly against the angel’s stomach and tried to look up to the task.

“Also, we need to talk about politeness,” the angel said mildly. “Let’s start with how you address people when you want something.”

Frederick let out a reptilian sigh and set about trying to appear like he was listening while really going to sleep. Sometimes the lack of eyelids was a huge blessing in disguise.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #jealous aziraphale #Aziraphale x crowley #idiots in love #established relationship #snake fiction #snek fiction

[feed-the-birdss]

Kinda

I posted my first official story! It’s not “James Asked” because that is turning out to be much longer than expected, but I will finish it soon!

I hope you all enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Read it on Fanfiction.net: Kinda

Fourth Year

“Alright, that’s it for today. Your three rolls of parchment on the importance of stirring counter-clockwise four times before adding in the valerian is due on Monday, and I am hoping to see more effort than I did with your last essays” said Professor Slughorn as he gave a pointed look toward Sirius and James who both snickered in response.

As they cleaned up their desks in preparation to leave the class, Sirius turned next to him to ask James, “So do you still plan on asking Evans out today?”

“Shut it, would you?” croaked James with wide eyes as he quickly looked toward the front of the class to make sure the red-head couldn’t hear. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided how I am going to do it.”

“What do you mean? You just go up to the bird, put your arm around her, and tell her you’re taking her to Hogsmeade. It’s not even a question these days. The ladies like confidence,” assured Sirius as he winked over at Mary MacDonald who giggled in response.

James ran his hand through his hair before picking up his bag and following Sirius out the door, “Lily is not the kind of bird who likes being told what to do mate. I mean, remember what happened when Snape told her to not take Divination?”

“James, don’t be daft. There is a difference between a greasy git like Snape bullying her around, and a confident git like you telling her that she’s being taken to Hogsmeade. Besides here’s your chance right now,” cajoled Sirius as he shoved James in her direction when she quickly walked past them. “Oi! Evans! James here needs to talk to you!” yelled Sirius before turning in the opposite direction towards his Ancient Runes class.

Lily turned around with a suspicious look in her eye as James proceeded to send a dirty look in Sirius’ direction and then make his way over to her, “What’s up Potter?”

“Well Evans, not much I guess…you good?” He said with his hand ruffling the back of his head.

“Yep, all good.”

“Right.”

“So…is there something you needed or can I go?” she asked.

Sirius’ words about confidence echoed in his head. So James stood up a little straighter as he put his hand through his hair once more, and put on his signature smirk that always made the group of second year girls who fawned over him blush. “Actually, there is something I need from you Evans. You see, you’re kinda cute and all, so I figured that we should go to Hogsmeade this weekend together.”

A copper eyebrow raised in response.

“I am going to take that silence as a yes. So I’ll meet you at around ten in the common room,” he proclaimed as he began to walk backwards to catch up with Sirius.

Lily’s brain seemed to have caught up with what he was saying, and quickly replied with “What the Hell Potter!? You can’t just…I mean…that wasn’t even…UGH. No James, I will not be meeting you in the common room at ten, NOR will you be seeing me at Hogsmeade,” she cursed, then swiftly turned on the spot, her red-hair billowing behind her looking like a plume of fire as she briskly walked down the corridor.

James just watched her go with his mouth hanging open.

Lily’s mouth, on the hand, was tightly pressed together in a thin line that would make McGonagall proud. Kinda?!, she thought, that prick thinks I’m “kinda cute”!? What does that even mean!?

Fifth Year

Sirius, James, Remus, Mary, Marlene and Peter were all sitting in the common room pretending to pay attention to a game of Exploding Snap Sirius and Peter were not really playing. Each of their eyes kept shifting towards the portrait, waiting for the red-head to come back inside.

“Maybe I should go check on her,” said James for what felt like the one hundredth time in the last five minutes.

“No James! How many bloody times do we have to tell you that YOU are absolutely the LAST person she wants to see right now…or ever really for that matter,” said Marlene.

“Well that seems to have changed,” Sirius muttered, earning a scowl from Mary, Remus and Marlene.

“Don’t be a prick Sirius. He was her best friend. She is only just coming to terms with the fact that he won’t be any longer, and you saying things like that won’t help with anything,” said Mary.

“Right, sorry,” he apologized as he and Peter continued to play the game absentmindedly.

While the others engaged in shallow conversation about their OWLs, James couldn’t even try to participate. His eyes were glued to the portrait.

When the portrait finally opened a few minutes later, and the red-haired girl slowly walked into the common room, James’ heart couldn’t help but break as he noticed the tears falling from her very red eyes. As soon as those red eyes came into contact with the group by the fire, she slowly made her way over to them.

Mary and Marlene jumped up as soon as the door opened and met her half way to engulf her in their arms, one of them on each side of her. Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James all watched with frowns.

“Are you gonna be okay love?” asked Mary sweetly.

Lily gave her a watery smile as she nodded weakly. “Yeah, it was a long time coming anyway. I just wish it hadn’t ended so disastrously…or publicly,” sniffed Lily.

“Right, sorry about that Evans. I guess that’s kinda my fault, eh?” said James as he lifted his hand towards his hair, but stopped midway when he remembered Lily’s words at the Lake, and awkwardly put his hand back down.

“Really Potter! Is that the apology I am going to get from you? Only admitting to it being ‘kinda’ your fault? Honestly, you seriously need to learn to take responsibility for your actions,” spat Lily with a face as red as her hair. She then loosened herself from her best friends’ arms and marched her way up the stairs towards the girls dormitory.

“Way to go mate.”

“Shut up Sirius, it’s not like you weren’t involved either,” accused James.

“Yeah, but my apology would’ve been better than that,” said Sirius.

“Whatever,” was James’s retort as he too stalked off toward his dormitory with a red face.

Sixth Year

“All right Evans?”

“What do you want Potter? I’m busy!” snapped Lily.

“Merlin’s Beard Evans, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I only wanted to see if you’ve invited some of the other prefects from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to Remus’ surprise party tomorrow night.”

Lily sighed, “Right, that. Yeah. I’ve invited Bertram, Benjy, Dorcas, and Jane.”

“Excellent,” replied James as got a good look at her up close and examined the red-head’s messy hair, dark eyes and crumpled uniform. “Are you good?” puzzled James, as he had never seen her look this haggard before.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” inquired Lily.

“Well…you look kinda tired I guess.”

Lily’s eyebrows immediately scrunched together, “Ugh, Potter! You are honestly one of the most annoying prats on the planet. Why do you always say that awful, heinous, and annoying word!? Every time you say it I am so bloody tempted to just smack that stupid smirk right off your face!”

“Uhhhh…what word Evans?” cautioned James.

“Kinda! You’re always, ‘hey Evans, you’re looking kinda a cute today’ or ‘hey Evans, that joke was kinda funny’. Just—” she sighed exasperatedly, “you’re just kinda kinda kinda KINDA all the Agrippa-damned time, and I am so bloody tired of it James. Just mean something fully, or keep it to yourself and don’t say it all!” fumed Lily.

“So you’re saying that you wished I said that you look fully tired?”

“Yes!”

“Right, noted.”

“Good.” Approved Lily as she relaxed a bit more.

“So I’ll see you at the party, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss Remus’ party,” Lily said kindly.

“True, Remus is kinda the best,” smirked James with a glint in his eye.

Lily couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face after rolling her eyes in response, “you’re a prat Potter.” She then stalked off toward the library to finish the three essays she had due the next day.

“A full prat or kinda a prat?”

Without looking back, Lily responded with a gesture that would have given her a week’s worth of detention if McGonagall had seen it.

 Seventh Year

“Mate, she likes you back! I swear to Merlin she does,” pleaded Sirius as he followed James to the Heads Office where he was meeting Lily for their rounds that night.

“Shove off Padfoot. If she liked me back, I would know it. I mean, I know her. Almost as well as Mary and Marlene.”

“Yeah, but you’re blind when it comes to this stuff Prongs! Remember when you thought that Benjy hated Emily, but it turned out that he actually fancied her?”

“This is not the same. I know Lily doesn’t hate me seeing as we’re good friends now, but because we’re good friends now, I also know that she doesn’t fancy me.”

“You’re being an idiot Prongs,” sighed Sirius as he went down one corridor to head back to the common room, and James headed down another toward the Heads Office.

James pondered what Sirius had said. It couldn’t be! It just didn’t make any sense to him. Sure Lily and him have been getting along great lately, but it’s because they have been forced to spend all this time together! She has no choice but to like his presence at this point or she would’ve been driven mad! And true, she has been getting a bit touchy-feely after he tells a joke, but the other day, Mary had grabbed onto him too, and there’s no way Mary likes him. Sure it had been because she was about to trip down the stairs, but it was still a touch!

I mean, Lily does touch him all the time though…Is it possible?

NO, James thought to himself. He can’t go down that path right now. He needs to focus on just making her fall in love with him the old fashioned way, slowly but surely. They’d only been actual friends for a few months, so he figured he still had time. He can’t get distracted by possibilities. The next time James Potter asks Lily Evans out, he needs to have no doubt whatsoever in his young, but brilliant, mind that she is going to yes—with enthusiasm, and then she would snog the living daylights out of him.

Well okay, the last part doesn’t have to happen, but it sure as Merlin would be a welcomed reaction.

As James approached the doors to the Heads Office, he could hear the bickering voices of Lily and Marlene. “Merlin’s Beard! Lily, you have to tell him!” burst Marlene.

“I know. I will. I am going to do it tonight I think,” she responded.

“You’re going to tell who what tonight?” asked James as he waltzed into the room.

Lily’s head turned so quickly he was worried she might have hurt herself for a second.

“Oh, um, I have to tell Benjy that I think I saw his toad the other day,” squeaked Lily.

“What? I thought Benjy had an owl?” puzzled James.

“He has a toad too Potter. Didn’t you know? Its name is Arnold,” assured Marlene.

“Oh…no I didn’t. Well, yeah, you better tell him then.”

“I will! Right after rounds,” replied Lily giving Marlene a grateful look as she left to go back to the common room.

“Good, well, we better get going then,” reasoned James motioning her out the door.

As they wandered through the corridors, occasionally checking broom closets and classrooms for any misbehaving students, they talked through their usual topics: their days, stories from their childhoods, Sirius’ ridiculous comments in class that morning, Remus’ deteriorating health etc. However, James noticed that Lily seemed a little off tonight.

“Lil, what’s up? You seem nervous?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I am,” said Lily quietly.

“Why?”

“Well, for starters, I lied earlier, in the Heads Office. Benjy does not have a toad named Arnold.”

“I bloody knew it! Benjy is way too cheesy to choose a name like Arnold. He would choose something dumb like Mr. Toad.”

“Oh my God, you’re totally right! He would choose a name like Mr. Toad,” laughed Lily.

“So why’d you lie Lils?”

“Right. Well, it’s because you’re the person I actually had something to tell tonight.”

“Oh?” inquired James.

“Yeah, cause you see Potter…well, um, I kinda fancy the pants off you.”

James eyes went wide behind the frames of his glasses, and he stopped walking mid-step.

“James?”

“Wait…what?”

“I fancy you James,” said Lily slowly stopping in front of him.

James’ silence continued for what felt like ages to Lily. She debated with herself as to whether or not she should say it again, but thought better of it. She could see the cogs turning in his beautiful messy-haired head. So she just watched him patiently as he processed the best news he had ever heard in his life.

After a minute or two, James finally responded, “Evans.”

“Yes Potter?”

“I need to clarify something here.”

“Okay…”

“Do you fancy me? Or do you kinda fancy me?” James asked with smirk as he put his hands around her waist.

“Don’t be an idiot Potter,” she replied, and then, to James’ utter astonishment, she weaved her hands through his hair, bringing her face close to his, and proceeded to snog the living daylights out of him.

#jily #jily canon #jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #jily fic #jily fandom #james potter #lily evans #james x lily #feeding birds

[emospritelet]

KoL! Prompt! - "I'm sorry, that came out wrong."

What better prompt to use when Gold finally decides to ask Belle out?

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] {Part 22]

AO3 link

The next day dawned cold, crisp and bright, and Gold decided to walk into town to arrange the Secret Santa present for Belle.  He smiled a little as he walked; he had two days off work, and much to his surprise was looking forward to it. Usually he hated being away from the hospital, but concentrating on a gift for Belle was a pleasant distraction.  The gifts weren’t due to be handed out until Christmas Eve, and he was hoping that he would have the time to make the arrangements that he wanted by then.

Now that he had decided he would definitely be asking her to go out, he felt a little calmer.  Initially the realisation that he had strong feelings for her was unexpected and almost terrifying, but he had come to terms with the fact that since he had met her, his life had changed dramatically, and would never be the same again.  He was okay with that.

There was still the issue of whether she would say yes, but Ruby’s words had given him encouragement, and so he decided to ask her when they were next on shift together.  Dinner. He would ask her out for dinner. Or possibly coffee, but at Granny’s, not at the cafeteria. Coffee was enough to start with. But then would she just think he was being friendly, rather than asking her out romantically?  Dinner. It would have to be dinner. He wouldn’t bother with the flowers this time, though. That seemed like tempting fate. If she said yes, he could bring her flowers on the date.

He took his time with the walk as he pondered his next move, enjoying the chirps and squawks of the few birds that saw out the winter in Maine, and nodding to the people that passed him.  His feet led him to the Town Hall, and he gave his name at the front desk before being asked to go on through to the Mayor’s office.

Regina Mills was dark-haired and lovely, the picture of stylish efficiency in her tailored suit and designer shoes.  He had long admired her taste, and the two of them had a reasonably amicable relationship, developed over several years of him patching up her son Henry, who had a tendency to be accident-prone. She looked up from behind her desk, setting down her pen and giving him a brief, red-lipped smile.

“Madam Mayor,” he said pleasantly.  “Compliments of the season. You’re looking very well.”

“Dr Gold,” she said.  “Please tell me my son hasn’t been in need of your care again.”

“Not this week,” he said.  “Although you may want to consider dressing the boy in bubble-wrap.”

Regina sniffed.

“Believe me, Emma and I have already had this conversation,” she said dryly. “What can I do for you?”

Gold smiled.

“Do you remember when I put you in touch with that adoption agency in Boston?” he said.  “And when I promised to get a friend of mine to consider your application before anyone else’s?  I believe that resulted in you adopting Henry. And later meeting the love of your life.”

“Yes,” said Regina suspiciously.  “I told you I owed you one, as I recall.”

“Ah.”  His grin widened.  “You do remember.”

Regina rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” she sighed.  “What do you want?”

“Oh, it’s not for me as such,” he said.  “It’s something the whole town would thank you for.  It would create a lot of goodwill this festive season.  And with it being election year soon I just thought—”

“Yes, yes!” she snapped.  “You’ve made your point. I’m feeling in a generous mood, so just tell me what it is you want and I’ll see what I can do.”

Gold smiled, and stepped closer to the desk.  Perhaps this would be easier than he thought.

x

Belle hurried to the locker room, sighing as she changed her shoes for heavy boots and pulled on her coat.  She smiled at Dorothy, coming on shift as she was leaving, and held up the copy of the hospital calendar she had been given.  The contents had been a pleasant surprise, although she had to admit that she’d spent far longer staring at the month of December than was healthy.

“The moment of truth, huh?” she said.  “I think we look pretty good. Jefferson says they’re selling like hot cakes.  He’s had requests for orders from all over the country!”

“Yeah, I think those friends of his gave some free publicity,” said Dorothy, with a grin.  “Suits me: his other fundraising option was a bake sale, and I’m not that great a cook.”

“Oh, I think that’s still going ahead,” said Belle.  “After the New Year, though.”

“In that case I’ll limit my participation to buying and eating other people’s creations,” she said.  “Showing my ass seems to be way less painless. For all concerned.”

Belle giggled, pulling a hat down over her hair.

“I’m hoping the townsfolk are gonna be reasonably discreet,” she said.  “I don’t care if some guy I never heard of wants to put the calendar on his wall, but I’m not sure my dad needs to know about his daughter taking her clothes off for charity.”

“It’s for a good cause,” said Dorothy dismissively.  “Hey, did you get your Secret Santa gift yet? You know we’re giving them out tomorrow, right?”

Belle sighed.

“Yeah,” she said morosely.  “I’m not sure I got the right thing.  It’s been a nightmare trying to think of something that’s meaningful and yet doesn’t cost more than thirty bucks.”

“It’s Secret Santa,” said Dorothy patiently.  “It doesn’t have to be meaningful.”

Belle shrugged, and Dorothy pursed her lips as she grabbed a pair of clean scrubs.

“Hey, did you see Gold today?”

“No, he’s not working until tomorrow,” said Belle.  “Why?”

“Oh, no reason.  Just asking. Is Whale in, then?”

“Whale’s there now, Jefferson’s in later,” confirmed Belle, grabbing her purse and closing her locker.  “See you tomorrow?”

“Count on it.”

She headed out, shivering as she stepped into the bitter wind, and hurried home.  Coloured lights twinkled from the houses she passed, lifting her spirits as she shuffled through the snow, but when she reached the small house that she shared with her father, it was dark except for a single light in the lounge.  Belle’s mouth flattened. He hadn’t switched the Christmas tree lights on. Again. Feeling her festive spirit drain away, she opened the door and went inside.

“It’s only me!” she called, and heard a grunt from the lounge over the sound of the TV.

Rolling her eyes, she struggled out of her coat and hat and tugged off her boots, exchanging them for soft sheepskin booties and heading to the kitchen. Her father clearly hadn’t started anything for dinner, and Belle huffed in exasperation. Guess I’m cooking again, then.  One glance in the fridge made her frown.  Cans of beer filled one of the shelves, the remainder being taken up by eggs, bacon and a block of cheese.  She sighed to herself and shut the door,wandering through to the lounge. Moe was slumped in his usual chair with a beer can resting on his belly, eyes fixed on the TV screen.  Belle put her hands on her hips.

“I thought you were buying something for dinner,” she said, and he glanced around.

“You said you would.”

“No, I said I couldn’t because I was working,” she snapped.  “The flower shop is right next to the store! I notice you bought beer, so you managed that.”

“Don’t be a bloody nag,” he groused.  “Just order a pizza or something.”

“We had pizza last night.”

“So we’ll have it again!” he said impatiently, and gestured at the TV.  “I’m trying to watch this! Just order a damn pizza and get me another beer!”

Huffing in exasperation, Belle stomped through to the kitchen again.  I really, REALLY need to get my own place!

x

The next day she was up before Moe as usual, but still later than she would have liked, so she had to rush to cook their breakfast.  He stomped into the kitchen with a bleary look in his eyes, nodding to her as she pushed eggs and bacon towards him.

“I’m working this afternoon, so could you pick up the turkey and the things for Christmas dinner?” she said, when they were almost done.  “Everything’s ordered and paid for, you just need to collect it from the store.”

“Alright.”  Moe looked at her, chewing his bacon.  “What time are you back tonight?”

“Oh, not until eight or so,” she said.  “Can you see to yourself until then?”

“Guess I’ll have to,” he said sourly.  “I’ll go to Granny’s, have a drink with the guys.”

“Okay.”

Inwardly she heaved a sigh of relief.  It meant that he probably wouldn’t be home until late, and she could have an evening of relative peace and quiet preparing the Christmas dinner.  Moe shoved the last bit of bacon into his mouth, following it with a swallow of coffee and pushing away his plate.

“Better get to the shop,” he said, shoving back his chair.  “I’ll see you later, love.”

He sauntered off to pull on his boots and coat, and Belle frowned at the dirty dishes.  Guess I’m doing those, huh?

She took a shower once she was done with cleaning up, brushing her clean hair until it shone and putting on a dark green dress that showed off her pale skin.  The addition of some red lipstick made her feel almost festive as she swirled the skirt in front of the mirror, and she smiled to herself. Her gift for the Secret Santa exchange was wrapped, and she looked it over, chewing her lip before putting it in her bag.  She hadn’t been sure whether it was an appropriate gift, but there wasn’t anything else she could think of that wasn’t hopelessly generic.

It was a sunny day, if cold, and she turned her face up to feel what warmth the sun could send as she made her way to the hospital along the main road out of town.  Her phone ringing made her stop, and she dug in her bag, frowning a little as she saw the number of the flower shop flash up.

“Belle?” barked her father, before she had even had time to answer.  “What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, bewildered.

“Don’t you bloody play coy with me, my girl!” he snapped.  “What do you think I’m talking about? Were you planning on telling me you’d decided to take your clothes off for money?”

Belle groaned.  The calendar.  Great. Well, I guess it was too good to last.

“It’s for charity,” she said shortly.  “And it’s not like I did a bloody Playboy centrefold!  I think it’s very tasteful.”

“Tasteful my arse!  I just had to put up with bloody Miss Ginger holding it up and telling me this is what happens when a daughter has no mother to keep her on the straight and narrow!”

“The day I care about what Miss Ginger thinks of me it’ll be snowing in hell,” said Belle tartly.  “That woman could find fault with a bloody saint!”

“Why didn’t you damn well tell me you were doing this?” he demanded.

“Because I’m an adult, and it’s my body and I’ll do what I damn well please with it!” she returned hotly.  “Why do you even care? There are eleven other people in that calendar and I don’t see you complaining about them!”

“None of them are my daughter!”

“I posed for a nice picture of my butt so the hospital could save towards a CAT scan,” she said, exasperated.  “Somehow I think your reputation will survive. I’ll see you later.  Don’t forget to pick up the food, okay?”

“Don’t you think I have enough to do in this shop?” he snapped.  “I have to cope in this place alone and you want me to run bloody errands for you?  What did your last slave die of?”

“If you want a Christmas dinner tomorrow, you’ll have to pick up the bloody turkey!” she retorted.  “I can’t be in two places at once!  Alternatively we’ll just eat bacon and bloody eggs all day and you can edge closer to that heart attack the doctors keep warning you about!  Your choice!”

She didn’t wait for his response, hanging up with a huff of indignation and striding off towards the hospital entrance.   Bloody man!

x

Gold was able to collect Belle’s Secret Santa gift on the morning of Christmas Eve, and had had to make a detour back home to wrap it before heading to the hospital for his shift that afternoon.  He had bought a little something extra to go with it, which he thought was fitting, and he placed everything in a narrow box and wrapped it up with shining green paper, tied with gold ribbon and a single tag with Merry Christmas Belle x written on it.  He had decided, after much deliberation, that he would ask her out before the gifts were exchanged; he didn’t want her to feel obliged to say yes, after all.  There was no one in the break room when he entered, and he set the box with the other gifts already under the small tree, slipping out and heading for the ward to start his rounds.

He was mentally running over what he wanted to say to Belle in his head, the words repeating in a loop of what sounded to him like something forced and awkward.  Belle, we’ve been friends for awhile now, and I’d like to take the next step, if you’re willing.  I wondered if you might consider having dinner with me on Friday evening.  He said it over and over in his head, in the hope that it would sound natural when he managed to verbalise it.

He was so busy repeating it to himself like a mantra that he barely noticed the object of his desire approaching, and almost bumped into her.  Belle was carrying a jug of water in one hand, and it sloshed alarmingly. She put her hand on his forearm with a giggle, blue eyes sparkling.

“Whoa there!” she said.  “Are you okay? You looked as though you were miles away.”

Gold smiled at her a little tremulously, feeling as though his tongue had cleaved to the roof of his mouth.  His script, so easy to repeat in his mind mere seconds ago, appeared to have evaporated into the ether, and he could only stare at her.

“Belle,” he said.  “Uh - hi.”  Great.  Great start.  I suppose at least you got her bloody name right, you loser.

“Hi!” she said brightly.  “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m - I’m very well,” he said, wanting to punch himself in the face with something.  “You?”

“Good!” she said.  “I saw the calendar, by the way.  I thought the pictures turned out great, what about you?”

“I - yes.”  He tried to ignore the image of Belle that had just pushed its way into his head.  “Yes, I thought you looked - okay.”  Okay?  Okay, you moron? She’s a fucking goddess, what is wrong with you?  Okay, my sainted backside…

Belle looked as though he’d spat in her face, blinking rapidly.

“Right,“ she said thinly.  "Uh - thanks.  I guess.”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” he said, wishing he had just sent her a bloody letter or something.  "I’m sorry, that came out wrong.“

"It’s okay,” she assured him.  "Really.“

There was a moment of awkward silence, and Gold wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.  She glanced down at the jug of water in her hands.

"Right,” she said again.  “Well, I was about to—”

“Of course,” he said quickly.  “I won’t be a moment, it’s just - there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

He tried to grasp at the words he had carefully constructed in his mind, the right words with which to ask her out, but his brain had run off on gleeful tangents, eagerly pushing inappropriate suggestions at him.  She was gazing up at him with those wide blue eyes, and he was tempted to take the jug of water from her hands and empty it over his head.

“Right,” he said.  “Uh - Belle, you - you know we’ve been friends for awhile now…”

He trailed off, hesitating, and she tilted her head to the side a little, her brow furrowing with mild curiosity.

“And,” he managed.  “And I wanted - I mean I wondered - uh - no, I mean I’d like—”

“Belle!”

Astrid’s sharp voice cut him off, and he stood there opening and closing his mouth, momentarily mute.  Belle turned to face Astrid, who had almost sprinted down the corridor towards them.

“Oh, thank goodness!” she gasped breathlessly, skidding to a halt.  “It’s your dad! They found him collapsed in the shop!  Suspected heart attack!  They’re bringing him in now!”

Belle had clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

“Heart attack?” asked Gold, a medical emergency returning the gift of speech to his parched throat.  “I’ll come with you.”

“Dr Whale’s there,” said Astrid, shaking her head at him as she handed him the jug of water.  “I just came to get Belle.”

She put an arm around Belle, who shot him a brief, frightened look and allowed herself to be led away at a brisk pace.  He stared after them, holding the water jug in his hand and feeling helpless.

Well, said his subconscious, with an air of satisfaction that made him want to scream.  You blew it.

#hey nonny nonny #fic: kiss of life #dr gold x candy striper belle #rumbelle fic #my fic #rumbelle #he'll get there in the end #i promise

[mal-likes-biscuits]

The Picnic - Epilogue

A proper epilogue for this thread with @macabrecabra​, because Magtherius did tell him to be more overt in his affection. Set in Series 2, before Act III and after most of the Series 1 angst has worked its way through. Also after, uhm, other things have happened. You’ll understand.

This is romantic and probably really sappy and there’s absolutely no demon stabbing in it.

“This is quite unusual,” Farah said, smiling as she gathered her zala about her shoulders and followed Malthael out of the library. 

Usually, he appeared at home after her work had ended for the day, or she was forced to interrupt him from his studies in the library in order to get his attention. But today, he had sought her out as she was tidying her desk, with a rather surprising request.

“As you said before,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “Quite observant.” The sun was just beginning to dip towards the horizon; the amber glow illuminated tree leaves and the few stray strands of his hair that always managed to escape proper wrangling.

That aside, however, he was uncharacteristically.... well-kept. Not that his usual appearance bothered Farah terribly; she knew it was due to his travels, or his becoming distracted with his research. The months they had spent living together had shown her most of his disorganization was kept to his study and himself. Neither hindered her affection for his person, or his ability to demonstrate the same to her.

But such demonstrations were usually subtle or took the form of the gifts he brought back for her. Fresh clothing, a distinct lack of dirt on his face, and him appearing at the library to take her someplace?

Now, that was strange. Had he not maintained his usual verbal wit, she would have assumed something was wrong. Or that some demon had stolen his form in a poor attempt to abscond with her.

“You are thinking far too much about this,” Malthael chuckled, as he led her through Tristram towards the town’s outskirts. 

“You’ve caught me. Usually you’re the one I accuse of that.”

“Rightfully so.”

“It’s not without reason, though.” She spun to walk side-step, so she could better see him. “This is unusual. And I’m very curious.”

“That is entirely the idea.”

“Are you being coy with me, Malthael?” She grinned wryly, and before he could reply, she skipped ahead through the nearest alleyway; there were only so many places in Tristram he could take her, and given their general direction, she had a fairly good idea where they were going.

“You assume a great deal,” he called, though he made no attempt to redirect her.

“Only because you are being surprising. Did you get an idea from Lyndon?”

“No.”

“Tyrael, then?”

“No.”

“My sister?”

“No.”

“Well, that would explain how you managed to keep this a secret. Tristram has loose lips.”

“Verily. I have my ways. Also, you are assuming I needed ideas.”

That was true, though Farah had enough suspicions to know the surprise was more than likely outside Malthael’s area of expertise. He had already taken steps to dress himself in a way that was beyond his usual habits. She sneaked another glance backward, noting what she had suspected before, which was that his shirt was not only clean – it was new.

“You look quite nice,” she offered genuinely. The least she could do was acknowledge his efforts.

Though, unsurprisingly, the comment also brought a subtle colour to his cheeks. He ducked his head in thanks, the twitch of a smirk flashing across his lips before they were hidden behind his hair.

His footfalls were close behind hers as she charted the deer trail from Tristram to their destination. The meadow was not exactly a secret, but as Malthael often claimed a spot near the pond to read, it saw little use from the other residents. There were still some who preferred the former-reaper keep himself out of sight, and were therefore happy to concede the more remote location to him.

Farah pushed aside a fruit-laden branch and considered what lay before her.

There, under the reading willow, was a crimson blanket, spread tautly across the grass, its corners pinned in place with several metal stakes. On the blanket was a large covered basket, neatly stored beside matching ceramic dishes and utensils. A row of arcane braziers flickered gently, their light dancing in the water’s reflections and in the glass of a wine bottle, unopened and leaning against the trunk of the tree.

“Oh!” She had expected a book, perhaps. Or maybe a mug of tea. But certainly nothing like he had prepared.

He bumped her shoulder gently with his as he walked to the blanket. Then he took a seat crossed legged on it and gestured for her to join him. “Unless, you have somewhere else to be?” His eyes crinkled.

“You are coy,” she managed, her voice tremoring from warm elation. “And this is entirely unlike you.”

He hesitated. “Is it…all right?”

“Of course!” The blanket was soft to touch, woven from the more expensive cottons that were grown in tropical locales. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have implied otherwise. It’s wonderful. It’s just…you really did surprise me. What brought this on? It’s not my birthday.”

The wicker basket rustled as he opened the lid and withdrew several wrapped packets. He still wasn’t looking at her, but the smile had returned to his eyes. “Is a reason always necessary?”

“For you? I would think yes.” She took one of the bundles, helping him unwrap what turned out to be an assorted variety of picnic foods. Hard cheeses, various smoked meats, long-breads that had been drizzled with several types of cooking oils and vinegars.

It was not too different than what she had brought for him in the past. But she had always taken the initiative to do so, assuming he was not comfortable expressing his feelings for her that way. Still, seeing it all set out before her, clearly his doing, touched her far more than their usual private get-togethers did. It wasn’t the food, or the wine, or any of the specifics.

It was the degree he had gone out of his way to do something for her. Not because she had requested it. But because he knew she would like it.

Their fingers brushed as he handed her the last bundle.

“You won’t tell me, will you?” His hands were cold, as always; she wrapped hers around them, silently sharing the warmth. “Your reason?”

He considered their entwined fingers, and the package clasped between them, his expression nearly unreadable, but softening as he shook his head. She waited patiently, knowing he was trying to find the words, as he so often had to do when he spoke about her.

“Perhaps,” he whispered, drawing his thumb across the back of her hand, “you are reason enough.”

When he finally raised his head to look at her, it was with the most naked, disarmed expression she had ever seen him wear. From a man who was always certain about everything, such clear hesitation about his own words, and her reaction to them, said everything.

Malthael had always been astute at giving her whatever she needed, and whenever possible, she had never made him guess. They were stronger that way. But seeing him show her the extent of his inexperience with his own emotions, and his willingness to trust her with that vulnerability—

“That is a good reason,” she whispered in reply. “Now, how about you show me what you have brought? And then we can eat.”

#

The stars shone through the firmament, pinpricks of light that echoed faintly in the now-still waters of the pond. The earlier breeze had all but gone, leaving only the trilling of birds, and the occasional stifled laughter from the two of them. The empty wine bottle lay discarded on the grass, and they had stacked the plates to the side, to allow them to stretch out on the blanket proper.

“I still can’t believe you liked it,” Farah snickered, turning her head to grin at him. “I assumed you’d tried it before and didn’t.”

Malthael raised a finger and gestured absently in the direction of the wine. “It’s not entirely different from mead.”

“It’s made of grapes, pi’ra.”

“Aye, verily.”

“Which are the same as raisins.”

“No, they are not. Grapes have moisture, and substance. Raisins have been leached of any redeemable quality by the Lords of Hell.” He slapped his palm onto the blanket emphatically. “Wine also has moisture, and substance, and flavour. Because it hasn’t been demon-sapped.”

Farah stifled a cackle, though her grin did acquire some teeth. “How very astute of you, Aspect of Wisdom.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were mocking me.”

“Never. Would not dare. I’ve been privy to your revenge on Lyndon often to enough to know better.”

Neither would she point out the slight drawl to his speech, or the way grammatical contractions sneaked into his usually impeccable phrasing once he’d had something to drink. She enjoyed watching him far too much and didn’t want to tip him off too heavily.

“That is wise.” He paused, then snorted loudly at his own joke. “It’s probably best…it’s the two of us.”

“Cowl down?”

“Cowl is…” he shrugged. “Floating on the water, alongside my sobriety. Somewhere.”

“Somewhere. But not here.”

“I still believe you are mocking me,” he muttered, without bite. “And I am not so drunk as to forget how to plot.”

“If you intend to keep me quiet, that may be difficult.” She raised an eyebrow, intentionally imitating his usual gesture.

“Farah. Owing to my apparent…confusion, you may have to be more forthright. Exactly in what way do you assume I will be distracting you?” Then, after a beat, he mirrored the eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. “Detailed, if possible.”

“I meant nothing of the sort!” she sputtered, though she knew the mirth in her words gave away the truth.

“I am sensing…dishonesty.”

“And how will you prove it? Scry the Chalice?”

“Mmm, I think not. I think I know you quite well, indeed.” He trailed off, giving her a chance to ponder the joke they’d often tossed back and forth between each other, ever since she’d first caught him off-guard with a particularly effective flirtation.

“Ah, then what am I thinking?”

“If I were to guess,” he murmured, before shifting to her side and wrapping an arm loosely about her. “I assume…” His hair tickled across her face as he leaned close, his forehead gently tapping hers.

He waited for her, as always. She took the moment to close her eyes and absorb the moment. The soft whispers of the night, and the trace of the wine on his breath. Underneath, the always present hints of pine and smoke that were his scents.

“Just this,” she whispered. “No more. I won’t have you over-indulge me to your own detriment because of wayward grapes. Promise?”

“You have my word.”

“Also, I know I enjoy reading about these sorts of things all the time, but it’s not entirely the best climate to do this outside—”

“Farah.” She shivered as he slowly traced his fingers down her cheek. “I brought a quilt.”

Oh. He really had thought of everything. “Sneaky.”

“Verily. Did you expect otherwise?”

“From you? No.” And truthfully, she was more concerned about his respect for his own boundaries than the weather. But she also trusted him, implicitly. And she could help him keep his promise. “I think that is why I love you.”

He pulled her closer, exhaling briskly, the same as he did nearly every time she said it. Then, so quietly, it was almost lost to the night: “And I, you.”

Words she never thought she would hear spoken, and on the heels of an evening already filled with the unexpected. Perhaps it was finally the right time, for him. Or perhaps something else had driven him to it. She didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. It was a thought for another night.

She carefully snaked an arm behind his head, and when he didn’t protest, she buried her fingers in his hair and gently pressed her lips to his.

#####

[Oh hey look @oyeedraw they managed to kiss in writing. >:D]

#diablo: archfall #my asks #ask replies #a small conclusion to a fun RP thread #malthael x farah #sneak peek at character development a few stories down the line #yes they finally did learn how to flirt #yes they are super huge nerds about it #honestly i enjoy writing their relationship because it's healthy in its own complicated way #my writing #this is sappy and romantic #also kind of has a fade to black at the end? #my kink is two mature adults respecting each other's boundaries and still teasing each other like badasses #i don't think that's why magtherius gave you that quilt you lovable idiots

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Devil’s Temptation pt17

Warning: Mod Styling warlords, Strong Language

Masterlist

---

Chapter 17 – Masterful Lessons

Tower after tower of blinking lights and electric clicking sounds. It was just a massive dense digital rainforest of mainframe computing. Sasuke actually enjoyed this aspect of his job more than the weapons. He never liked fighting, he did, however, see the need to raise arms when protecting someone he loved. Kenshin had taken him in after seeing potential in him, although he was never told exactly what that potential was. 

His family wasn’t part of the crime world both his parents and grandparents had been in education. At some point during university, he was forced to drop out due to lack of funds and that was when the trouble started. Looking back, it was a hard introduction to the underworld.

---

Loan sharks. The bottom feeders. His parents had agreed to be guarantors on a loan for a friend who later turned up dead. Dead or not a loan is a loan and the debt collectors wanted the money. Sasuke was home when they broke in and went for his mother and sister. He jumped in before he could think and protected them. His father came home later to find a battered and bloody Sasuke being tended too by his mother. Desperate for help Sasuke informed them he’d find a job that would help and he would take on the debt. He didn’t want them targeted again.

Sasuke walked through the white marble entrance into the Uesugi buildings, clutching his CV in his hand. Kenshin was passing by the reception on his way back from a meeting when he collapsed. He was white as snow and getting colder with each passing second. It was his quick thinking that prevented him from slipping off the mortal coil completely before an ambulance could arrive. Sasuke often wondered if there was such a thing as fate. Something that tied others together through the threads of time. After receiving medical treatment in hospital Kenshin sought him out and offered him a job.

“Mr Uesugi. I am no fighter, Sir. At best I have a very basic level of understanding of self-defence.”

“But you have formidable analytical skills and your grades in other areas such as calculus, economics and electronics could prove to be useful to me. Are you aware of what I do?” Kenshin addressed the young Sasuke.

“I’ve heard rumours.”

“Then I shall add an ability to listen and show discretion and caution to your list of merits.” Kenshin approached the young man from behind his desk, locking Sasuke in his sights. The only emotion the man exuded was determination. “I am not asking you to fight just stand by my side and learn, follow orders and as for the rest… I’ll train you myself.”

He felt a small sense of dread rising within him at accepting such an offer but he also knew he needed a job. He needed to help protect his family. Swimming in the same lake as Kenshin Uesugi would not just kill all his birds with one stone it should set him up with a way to take down the scum at the bottom of the barrel and help protect others from the same fate.

“Then I am in your care.” Sasuke bowed.

---

Yukimura entered the room behind Sasuke a large tool bag in hand, putting it down on the ground with a thump that brought Sasuke back to the present. Mitsunari trotted in after carrying the laptop and several hand-held circuit readers, nearly dropping them as he stumbled.

“Oops… Oh! Thank you.”

“No Problem.” Sasuke caught the tech in his hands before they had time to tumble to the ground.

“Why are we doing this and not just you know…” Yukimura asked as he made tapping fingers on invisible keyboard gestures “Digi stuff?”

“Digi stuff?” Mitsunari inclined his head.

“You’ll have to excuse Yukimura Mitsunari. Technical terminology is time-consuming jargon to him.” Sasuke explained as he removed some blueprints from the tool bag and the other men gathered next to him to look at the map of circuitry.

“Is that meant to be a dig at me?”

“Of course not. I admire your honesty and straightforwardness it saves time.” Sasuke was nothing if not completely honest as well. It was one of the things that Yukimura liked about him. That and the guy seemed completely useless when it came to lying.

“So, we are looking for what? A wiretap or something?” Yukimura looked from the coloured lines on the blueprint to the towers in the room. Talk about a needle in a haystack.

“Not quite. From observations on the code streams I’ve seen, there was nothing to suggest that the IP had been jacked by an outside location.” Sasuke calmly explained details as simply as he could.

“Someone did something on the inside?” Mitsunari ran his fingers over the information laid out before him, his purple eyes dilating as he scanned the new information.

“Yes, I believe someone has placed a separate server in here and linked that to the internal mainframe network.” Sasuke began calculating sections of the mainframe mentally. “In that case, they wouldn’t need to hack just access their own server in order to access the files they wanted.”

“Wait. If it isn’t hacked what the hell set off the alarms then? I mean if it was all linked up and they didn’t have to hack, it shouldn’t have set off the alert. Right?” Yukimura was even more confused. You wanted action he could do that you wanted strategic planning and plotting that was always Shingen’s domain.

“I think it comes down to timing. A few days ago, the monthly maintenance occurred. After that, all main server passwords were changed automatically by predetermined algorithms. If the additional server was added before this and the ones doing that didn’t know…”

“All it would take is for them to attempt access with an old password claiming to be part of the system for it to flag up a problem.” Mitsunari cut of Sasuke seamlessly. It was like looking at two people sharing a brain and saying the same thing. Yukimura had to work hard to suppress the urge to hum the theme from the twilight zone.

“Ok… well let’s find this thing.”

---

A battered, oxidized business sign welcomed the car's arrival with its pealing lead paint. Shin could say one thing about this city, it provided convenient secluded locations for work.

Shin opened the driver’s door and grimaced as his clean black shoes touched the dirty and neglected ground in the abandoned factories forecourt. Great… just great. Clicking the fob on the key he popped the trunk and was happy to see the human cargo was still out for the count. Shin bent down slipping one of Mitsuhide’s arms over his shoulder and then after shifting the weight a little grabbed a leg and draped the prone form of Mitsuhide over his shoulders. You are heavier than you look Mr Akechi.

It took around an hour to set things up. The facilities weren’t exactly as clinical as he would have liked but they would work. Industrial looms sat in inches of dust, old textile fragments hung from the air like long forgotten flags on a battlefield. Discarded bobbins and other bric-a-brac scattered on the ground like a storm had passed through. He located a room towards the back of the building that was stable and clear enough for him to work safely. After making sure Mitsuhide was “comfortable” and secure he set up his tools on a clean sheet near his soon to be very helpful guest.

Time ticked by slowly and he watched as the crucified figure before him started to stir back into life. They were testing things with little movements that could have easily been missed if you weren’t paying attention. The rattle of the metal behind them was the last sound he needed to hear that told him they were truly conscious.

“I see you’re awake.”

---

The drug haze was lifting from his mind a little as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the bad lighting around him. He didn’t think he would be alone so the sound of a voice talking to him from the gloom was not shocking. It would have been stranger had he actually just been left alone to dangle. Looks like the fun has started. Let’s see who has the stronger hand.

“Ah, I see I have finally got you where I need you.” Mitsuhide’s voice was a little strained. It was to be expected he hadn’t used it since being drugged and he was tied up at present.

“Isn’t that what I was meant to say next?” Shin asks chuckling a little at the ridiculousness of the claim. He had been a little further away in the room sitting on a foldable chair, drinking tea from his thermos patiently waiting for Mitsuhide to regain consciousness.

“Not if you knew what I do.” A wicked smile that almost seemed to glow in the darkness spread over Mitsuhide’s face. Fake it till you make it. 

It was unnerving. Shin knew this game, it was a mental game of chicken. But what if it wasn’t a game? People normally beg for life or to make whatever it was you were going to do to them quick. That was standard response in this situation and he had been prepared to listen to that. Have I truly missed something? He seems far too sure of himself to just be playing games.

“Talk is cheap and in a short while you won’t be talking much longer.” Shin spoke levelly as he moved a little closer.

“Now who’s saying who’s lines? Ha-ha and to think I thought you were a Pro. I overestimated you. You’re nothing but a rank amateur at this.” Mitsuhide persisted with his taunting. Shin’s eyes were glancing around discreetly as he tried not to show what he was doing. He was curious, he was interested… he was starting to second guess himself. Good. I can work with that.

“Amateur! You dare call your captor that, in your position? Clearly, we both overestimated each other. I always thought you were smart.” Shin lost his perfect composure. In all his years in dispatch, working in the shadows cleaning the path for his employer he had never been so disrespected. Really Mr Takada something as small, as your captive taunting you, is enough to make you crack?

“Let me explain for the benefit of the class.” Mitsuhide grinned devilishly and dipped his face down. The light caused deep shadows to fall over his features, his yellow eyes glowed as he watched the other man. It all looked… unnatural. “You try this in my city, in my playground with no clue of what you are doing…” 

“Why you little…”

“Ah ah ah. I’m talking. You will wait till I finish.” Mitsuhide interrupted Shin and held his control over the conversation easily. Pausing for a few seconds to revel in the other man’s agitated confusion. “There’s a good boy. Well now. By the condition of this place and the direction of the light coming you could have only brought me to one of two buildings. But knowing an amateur this is probably the old carpet factory.”

Mitsuhide was bluffing. Bluff a bad hand and see if it's enough to make the challenger raise his interest and take the bait. He had always had a way of making things sound believable and worked it to his advantage. You can fake mostly anything if you have a basic knowledge on it. You just had to use the right words and have the ability to keep your nerve while acting confident. When playing games, it was a boon. And there is no bigger game than one where your life is forfeit. The fact was this building was one he was intimately familiar with, he had used it himself many times. If you had just travelled a little further and gone to the storage and loading areas you would have seen it. You would have recognised… this is my playroom… my dungeon. But you didn’t, did you?

“How?... not that it matters. You know where you will die.” The hesitation in his voice was telling. Shin was definitely feeling like he had missed something vital. He had moved back again and was roaming his eyes around as if he thought he would see a clear indication that way of what was going on.

“Ah ah ah I’m still talking!” Mitsuhide kept his captor’s attention from wandering in a direction that could work logically. Distractions. They could be simple or they could be hard but ultimately a distraction is a distraction, and they can cost you dearly.

“Why does it feel as if we have reversed roles?” Shin muttered to himself, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck and rubbing it. This should have been simple. It should have been easy. Everything was planned… everything had been thought out and arranged. He had taken everything into account. Except for the victim. The infuriatingly calm, goading man before him. This whole situation was wrong, but Shin couldn’t think clearly long enough for him to make any of it make sense to him.

“On with the lesson. You tie me to a…” Mitsuhide gave a little wriggle as he once again tested his own position. “closed elevator gate and by the feel of it… oh yes…. Mhm…. you used plastic ties on my wrists.” He kept his expression the same, head angled to the side as if he was still checking details. His feral grin frozen in place. If Shin had been closer, he would have seen Mitsuhide’s eyes starting to dilate. The pain of being suspended, the uncomfortable biting sensation digging in his wrists from the cable ties. I really hate to admit it to myself, but this does feel exceptionally nice… No that can wait for another day. A different path to entertainment and pleasure has presented itself.

Shin noticed the change. It should have been minor but to him, it was as clear as the traverse of the night into day. That guy is so calm. I seriously feel like I’m missing some-… wait, is he enjoying this?

“And you left my legs unbound? Tut… tut. Although I would say that is ok, as long as you don’t intend to get closer than ten feet now that I am aware that I can move them.” As Mitsuhide spoke Shin stepped back a couple of feet without even realising he was moving.  “Second mistake.” Mitsuhide’s head snapped up. A movement that was so sharp and sudden that it made Shin jolt.

“Another? What?”

Panic. That was what that foreign feeling was inside him now. His organised attack. His well thought out plan. All of it falling apart and failing him and he couldn’t see how. The barbed tongue of the viper before him had laced his words with such effective poison that he didn’t even realise the control he had lost until it was completely taken from him. This was not good at all. Shin looked over and the rippling chill that was filling him moved like a flash freeze in his system. His gun, his tools… all of them cleanly and meticulously laid out for use. All of them were around twenty feet too far away for him to reach. Shit…

“This elevator is more than seventy years old and the gate likewise. An amateur would put a brand-new lock on such a gate to keep it closed I… oh, look how confused he is at this simple comment. Did you figure out the problem yet?... No? ok, looks like a demonstration is in order as you still don’t seem to be getting it.” Mitsuhide chuckled sinisterly in the darkness. It was worse than any horror film audio Shin had heard. It travelled in the air, clinging and sticking to things, bouncing off them only to echo more. “Right, are we paying attention?” Shin didn’t move. He couldn’t in the same way he couldn’t look at anything else but the malignant and terrifying spectre in front of him. “What happens when a new solid reinforced metal strikes against an old rusted piece of metal?”

“It… It breaks.” Shin answered rather like a programmed doll. There was a brief moment of triumph in his voice as he got the right answer but it was washed away by a wave of anxiety as he looked at the new Yale lock hanging like a wish token in a temple on the gate.

“Correct” Mitsuhide cried out as he managed to swing his legs to the side and kick off from the solid wall. 

The stress and pressure of such a sudden movement caused the padlock to snap the rusted metal it was on, breaking its hold on the gate and making the hinges weaken. The binds on his wrists twisted into his flesh drawing blood. But that was only a momentary euphoric agony as the gate began to concertina and snap shut behind him. The folding metal cleaved the plastic ties from him as it went. 

Gracefully Mitsuhide landed softly on the ground just in front of the gates behind him. Hinges giving out finally causing the rusted metal to frame him like corroded wings. “As I was saying. I have you exactly where I want you. In a locked room where I have access to the only escape route.” Shin stood there in awe. He had never seen that. Never had a meal turn on its plate and fight back. Never seen someone look as inhuman and wild as Mitsuhide. “And would you look at that? You even laid out all these charming little toys beside me.”

Mitsuhide felt a familiar thrill straining within him. He could drink until his body passed out and never feel this kind of intoxication. His voice was low and growling, his movements were smoke edged with lethal intent. You broke the chain. You fed the beast. Time to pay the price.

“Well, Mr Takada… Are you ready to play a game?”

---

[thomasblanky-moved]

day 10: in hot water

@12daysofcarnivale

rating: g characters: harry goodsir, henry collins, jane goodsir pairing: goodsir/collins word count: 3096 read on ao3

buy me a coffee!

harry had always been the type to bring home strays. the goodsir household was large and loud and even as a child, he’d scamper home with crayfish or crabs in buckets, or holding a big orange barn cat, or a baby bird. once he had even come home, a triumphant grin on his face, clutching a live grouse in his hands.

(his mother had nearly had a conniption over it being loose in the house, and then it was caught and butchered and harry had cried for days)

he supposed in a way he felt responsible for collins. he cared for him, of course, admired his gentleness even as the man himself shook to pieces, enjoyed the way his voice curled sweetly around harry’s name, had marveled in the way that collins had been able to point out every star and constellation and name each and every one of them. 

(”they’re different this far north,” collins had said, looking almost bashful about it, but something inside of him had seemed to settle and harry had smiled for it)

collins had been caught with a glancing blow from that monster out there on the ice- tuunbaq, blanky had once translated for them, and lady silence had looked small and mutinous- the impact of its great large paw cracking his ribs, claws rending flesh. the wounds were large and ugly, but survivable, and it had been lucky that collins hadn’t gone into shock or caught an infection; harry suspected that the latter at least was due to the coca wine that collins had pilfered, a mixed blessing.

harry had done his best to stitch him up and had felt guilty that out of all the men he could save, he was glad that collins was one of them.

and after, after, when they were swathed in wool blankets that weren’t threadbare and had bellies full of hot food that wasn’t ridden with lead, when the bandages that were wrapped ‘round collins’s middle were fresh and clean instead of tattered, the man will look so small and miserable that harry near aches with sympathy.

“do you have any family?” harry had asked him in his kindest voice, but collins’s shoulders had drawn up about his ears with a wince. “i could write them, if you wish, tell them that you’re safe. i’ll send the letter out with my own.”

“don’t.” he doesn’t know if collins had meant for the word to come out a whisper but it had, a rasping, sad sort of breath. “i don’t... i’m not well, doctor. in the head. don’t want them to see me like this, billy and harry and the girls. it’s not- i’d rather be dead, than come back to them like this.”

harry draws in a sharp breath at that; he had known that collins had been hurting, horribly so, but he hadn’t thought it had gone so deep to make collins value his life so little. he lays his hand over the other man’s, says, “do you have anywhere to go, once we return?”

collins shakes his head no, just the slightest movement.

“then you’ll come with me,” he decides. “nearly all my brothers have left for homes of their own, so there will be room enough at rosebank.”

that was how harry ended up walking down one of anstruther’s streets, collins near enough at his side that their arms brushed. they both looked rather ragged and disreputable, he was sure, but the streets around him felt familiar and close, inundated with childhood memories. he noticed different things, now, whether by separation or experience, and it fits strange on him like an old coat.

“that’s the baker’s shop,” harry says, pointing out the building as they pass; has  done this time and time again, bringing collins’s attention to some landmark and giving a childhood anecdote. “my younger brother robert- bob, really- was sweet on one of the daughters. he’d spend all his money on pastries he didn’t like just to talk to her, and he’d blush and stutter his way through every time.”

later he gestures at the beach as they climb the hill, says,  “i used to spend days out there in the sand. i would bring things back to the house- crabs, mostly- and be scolded for it, but it never stopped me. that’s what i did before, you know; i studied crabs.”

the before what didn’t need to be specified.

collins smiles a little, small, and something lightens in his face as he pauses to look out over the water. “my sister maggie, margaret,” he says, “she loved birds. she’d point out every one we saw, but i couldn’t ever remember all the names.”

harry smiles, too, and just barely touches their fingers together before they continue up the hill.

rosebank was a decently sized house, tiled roof and white-washed walls, and a fixture in harry’s life for as long as he could remember it. this was what he thought of when he had buoyed himself dreaming of home: this house, his parents, his siblings. the big garden that his mother and jane had loved; the work lab that he and john had constructed in the attic; the foul words that robert had carved into tree trunks when they were children.

“that’s it there?” collins asks, and harry nods. he is filled with equal parts trepidation and anxiety, a wanting to be there already while also wary of what he might find. “you’ve got a big house, doctor goodsir.”

he’s long given up any sense of humility regarding his titles; he is a doctor, an anatomist by education if not a surgeon by practice. a doctor goodsir in a family of doctor goodsirs. “i’ve a big family, too.”

the cobble road that lead to the house was the same as he remembered it, the bushes and flowers his mother had loved tenderly, the faded paint on the gate to the carriage house. a part of him had almost expected it to all be gone, to be changed with the way he had changed, these past long years.

“are you alright?” collins’s voice was soft, as if often seemed this days, but now out of compassion more than anything. harry runs a hand down his face, through the beard he’d grown during those months on the long march. he was sure he looked a fright, unshaven and framed by riotous dark curls, but he’d scarcely had time to look at himself in a mirror let alone make himself presentable.

they’d just have to take him as he was, then.

the flat stones that marked the way to the door were the same, grass a bit more overgrown between the cracks without a constant and steady stream of traffic to keep it trampled. the door was the same, the white wash on the walls, the creeping ivy that his mother had tried so hard for years to get rid of. he raises his hand to knock on the door, then decides to try the knob. 

it was his home, after all, no matter how long he’d been gone. he shouldn’t have to knock to enter his own home.

the door was unlocked and so he pushes it open and the house is quiet, too quiet even for only two people. harry frowns and he hears collins shift closer, just the barest rustle of fabric, and he reaches back for the other man’s hand, reassured slightly when warm fingers tangle with his own. perhaps it was his experiences that had made him so paranoid and distrustful of silence, his neck prickling with awareness; he’d spent so long surrounded by a crush (and then a lessening, lessening number) of men that quiet had become foreign to him. 

harry closes the door behind him because he was raised, well, here, and not in a barn, meaning that he had some sense of decency. collins is peering about, his face pinched in that perpetual expression of vague despair that has seemingly come to be his norm.

“you’re sure you lived here, doctor?” collins’s voice is pitched low, and harry would have thought it was a joke had he not known the man as well as he did. he opens his mouth to respond, perhaps a bit put out, but a creak on the stairs makes him look up, the nearly spiral staircase that always squeaked no matter the step.

harry feels something lodge in his throat. “jane?”

“harry?”

they stay at rosebank some few weeks, a season or maybe more. harry is glad for it; anstruther is a sleepy, quiet town, contained and familiar and free of painful reminders. collins, too, seems more settled, something lighter in his eyes, the set of his shoulders. he has been thinking of things to write to his family, to tell them that he is not well but that he is getting better, and that he hopes to see them all soon; harry helps him, sometimes, when the words get caught somewhere between his brain and his pen.

but there was grief here, too, empty spaces where people should have been. he would walk into the sitting room and expect to see his father sitting in front of the fireplace, or at his desk in the study; if he listened close enough, he swore that he could hear archie’s laughter. jane was the only one here, now, and he felt almost bad for her, all alone in the house.

the others visit by turn, john and robert and joseph. harry is glad for it, pathetically so. the first time harry is alone with john he clings to him and sobs like a child, while his brother combs his fingers through his hair, only a little bit awkward. robert, on his own, ribs harry gleefully about it all, but there’s relief in his voice when he says that he had sailed, twice, to find him and came home wanting.

(it is joseph that harry worries for, joseph who comes home and looks thin and sad and ill but so very glad that harry has returned, who holds his face in shaking hands as if he couldn’t believe that this was all real and pulls him into a tight, crushing embrace. harry reminds himself to ask john his thoughts in his next letter.)

he is getting better. they are getting better.

jane seemed taken with collins, which harry was grateful for, but even more than that he was relieved to see that collins rather liked her, as well. she gave him tasks, harry knew, to keep him busy: running errands or washing dishes or chopping wood or pulling up whatever crop she had decided was good enough to harvest. and then they would all sit down together for dinner and it would be cozy, and domestic, and everything that harry had been almost certain he would never see again.

so harry enjoys the little things he had previously put aside or never had time for. he goes back to studying crabs; he collects seashells. some shaggy tortoiseshell with a cropped tail follows collins home from the grocer one morning, and instead of chasing her off they decide to keep her; he names her apollonia (“polly, for short.”) and feeds her scraps off the table, to jane’s eternal vexation.

they go to the beach, sometimes, he and collins. they take off their shoes and socks and roll up their trousers to wade around in the tide pools, laughing and shouting as the cold waves lap over their ankles and sand seeps between their toes. collins says to him, “we used to do this when we lived in hartlepool, george and i.”

“george?”

“my brother,” collins says, and there’s something sad in his voice. “my twin, really.”

harry makes a surprised noise at that, glances over curiously. “i didn’t know you were a twin.”

the barest shrug of shoulders answers him. “i’m not, anymore.”

he backtracks, then, says, “you don’t sound as if you were from hartlepool.”

“never stayed in one place for more than a few years.” collins plucks a stone out of the sand, deep black and smooth, edges rounded; he tries to skip it but it falls flat into the water with a plop. “my father was navy, and we followed his postings. sussex is where me and george were born. hal and billy in hartlepool; maggie, some place in ireland; tamsin, decima, and lizzy were all popped out in liverpool, but by that time i was already sailing.”

“my family have all been doctors,” harry offers. he plants his hands on his hips and stretches his back, cracks his neck. “my father, my grandfather. john, bob, archie, and myself all studied medicine. we were all born here, too, along with jane and baby agnes, except for joseph. he was born in lower largo, but that’s only a few hours’ walk from here, so i’m not sure it counts.”

it’s the most harry’s ever heard collins talk about his family; occasionally there would be some throw away comment, something one of his siblings had said, or that his sister like this kind of chocolate or his brother broke an arm while climbing a tree. little, inconsequential things, but he’d never had names to go with them. he decided that having a brood of siblings rather suited a man like Collins.

“you’ve a good family, doctor goodsir,” collins tells him, and harry smiles. “you all seem very close.”

“we are. were.” it’s tinged with grief; archie’s loss still hurt, sometimes, like a healing wound. “and please, call me harry. i’ve told you this before, mister collins.”

“you have,” collins cedes, “but you’ve never called me henry, either.”

it is winter the first time harry kisses collins, a bit over a year since they had first stumbled up the hill to rosebank, ragged and tired and battered. and it’s very much that way, harry kissing collins, because harry is the one that fair falls forward while collins’s hands hover, surprised and unsure, and harry is the one that breaks it, too.

there is snow on the ground outside, falling in fat, crystalline flakes, and harry finds that he hates going out into it, but not nearly as much as collins, who takes up a near permanent position in the kitchen, wrapped up in a tartan by the stove as he tries to learn how to knit. the cold was in them, now, deep in their bones and dredging up old nightmares.

they stay indoors. harry sends john his papers to be published, collins tries to knit, and a boy from down the lane chops their wood.

the kiss itself is neither coordinated nor particularly good. harry doesn’t know why he dies it, really; perhaps some latent impulse. he was terribly fond of collins, though, and at this point the man knew him better than anyone else; not his past, perhaps, but his thoughts.

so, harry kisses him.

collins is watching him wide-eyed when he rocks away, fingers clutched in a half-woven glove, his mouth slightly parted. he looked utterly gob smacked and harry swallows down the hysterical laugh that crawls up his throat.

“i’m sorry, henry,” he babbles, “i don’t know what- that is, i didn’t. i’m not. i’m sorry-“

“harry,” collins says, and though his voice is small, harry stops talking immediately. it’s a rare moment when collins uses his name.

“…yes?”

collins’s hand is shaking slightly as he reaches out to brush his fingertips across harry’s cheek, light as a feather, and harry’s eyes flutter shut. his palms are rough, callouses that had cracked in the cold catching on harry’s beard, but the gesture is tender nonetheless. harry covers collins’s hand with his own.

“did you mean it?” collins asks, seriously.

“of course,” harry says.

collins smiles at that, something small and shy and unsure, but it’s a start.

“you’re as bad as john,” jane scolds harry, “and not even half as subtle.”

she has him cornered after dinner, having requested his help with cleaning up. collins had given them both a quizzical look- often he was the one cleaning up, always volunteering- but jane shoos him off and he goes, polly cradled in his arms.

“pardon?” he says. he tells himself he’s not intimidated- that he’s seen worse, done worse- but jane had always had something of their mother in her, and her ability to loom over him despite her height was one of them.

“i don’t care what you do to henry in your spare time,” she says hotly, and she has a finger pressed to his chest, a scowl upon her face. there is the just tiniest beginnings of bags beneath her eyes, and harry swallows. “or what he does to you. but you could at least be quiet about it, else your wailing is like to wake the neighbors and send me to an early grave with exhaustion.”

harry remembers, suddenly, that their rooms share a wall.

“it’s not like that, jane,” he protests, a hot flush crawling up his neck, even though it plainly was. “it’s-“

“i don’t care!”

his mouth snaps shut, cowed into quiet for a moment, and then frowns. “what does john have to do with anything?”

the look that jane gives him is pure disbelief paired with a noise of disgust, and she turns on her heel and strides from the room, leaving harry to clean up dinner alone.

collins sends a letter to his family in late spring of ’53, nearly two full years since they had escaped the arctic.

he was happier than he had been before, harry knew, smiled more and had nightmares less. he was still quiet, still shy and sometimes drifting, but he was leaps and bounds better than the miserable, haunted creature that had first followed harry to anstruther. there were things that had come back with them and things that they had left behind, harry knew, and they would never be the same as they were before it all, before all the death and fear and horror.

(he thought, sometimes, of lady silence, whether she had survived it all and what she was doing if she had, and his heart will swell and collapse inwards under the weight of it all and harry knows that this, too, will never leave him.)

collins writes only one letter, to his mother, and it takes him nearly two weeks to do so. harry walks with him to post it, and they walk close enough side by side that their fingers brush on the way home.

#12daysofcarnivale #the terror #the terror fic

[biskyenthusiast]

Steady Downfall || Part 1

Rating: Mature

Warnings: It’s really fluffy and cute at the beginning but prepare for it to spiral into dark territory quickly. Language, death, anxiety, derealization, depersonalization, panic attacks, isolation and angst.

Pairing: Nursing assistant!Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 1,342

Summary: Your grandmother lives in a nursing home due to her slowly becoming paralyzed. You visit her everyday because you’re the only one left in your family who lives near her. All is fine until a certain nurse stumbles into your life.

A/N: So I know at first this might seem really stupid but I promise you, I’m trying to make it good! This whole series was inspired by what has happened in the last seven years of my life and this fic is supposed to help me vent and let go. I’ve experienced a lot of the things that Y/n will in the story and it’s hard to explain to people so why not write it out for them to see what went on in my head at the time (and a bit still today). The first chapter is for you to see what kind of relationship the reader and her Grandma have. Tom will play a bigger part later. It's a bit messy and obscure so be kind but criticism is apreciated. I’ve never posted a series on tumblr before so I may need help when it comes to linking and all that jazz, but I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it! This took me a lot of time and effort so I hope you enjoy!

--

When one door closes another door opens, when a death occurs a new life is born.

Waking up to a beautiful quote from your own Grandma like that should be a peaceful wake every morning. Except when you have a new spring friend who hates you.

You woke up to the deafening croak of the mocking bird that sat at your window sill daily. God I want to shoot that thing, you thought. You had had a rough week one could say. You had been denied a job twice and you were exhausted from trying to find any interview. After lying there for two minutes trying to ignore that fucking bird, you finally cracked.

“JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You exclaimed as you threw your pillow at the window in an attempt to scare it off. To your demise it stayed in the exact same spot and continued happily annoying you.

I need to get a new apartment, you rolled out of bed to shut the window.

Padding over to the kitchen to grab breakfast, you spot a familiar short figure making a bowl of cereal, you join her, mumbling, “Morning, shortstack.”

“At least be creative.” She looked up teasing right back.

You hummed, “Maybe next time Jamie.” Patting her blonde messy bun before making your way to the table.

“Babe! Have you seen my toothbrush?” Christine asked while walking into the kitchen.

“I used it to clean the toilet and because I love you, I threw it away.” Replied Jamie.

Chris shook her head, “Why did you have to use my toothb- whatever, we’ll get a new one while we’re out.”

“Wait, where are you guys going?” You questioned.

Chris turned to you “We’re helping out at the county fair, you can come if you want.”

“Can’t, I’m going to see Grandma.” You stated.

“Right, like always.” Said the short blonde.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well it’s just, you don’t have to visit her everyday. Visit her every other day, so that you have time for a job and friends.”

“But she needs me, and I care about her so I’m going to be there, ready, at every moment of the day.”

Christine butted in, “They have people in the home who are there to take care of her. That’s their job.”

“Yeah but she still needs company, she’s very lonely.”

Jamie stood up to put her cereal bowl in the sink, “Whatever you say… listen, we’ll probably stay over at a friends house tonight so the appartment’s yours.”

“Oh goodie! I can have that twenty person orgy I’ve been itching to host.” You sarcastically cheer making your way to the sink to put your dish in then slowly backing out to your room.

“HAVE FUN ON YOUR DATE WITH NETFLIX!” yelled Jamie.

You give her the bird, “WILL DO!” before disappearing into your room.

***

Entering the home that your Grandma had lived in for almost two years, you waved to the secretary who was on a call, stopped at the doors put your pin in and made a beeline for the room labeled ‘Marjorie Y/l/n’.

You opened the door just a crack to see if she was awake, glad to see that she was in her wheelchair and looking at her orchids on the window sill, you spoke up.

“Morning Grandma.” You stepped in and allowed her to turn around before giving her a hug.

“Y/n dear, could you do me a favour?” She quickly asked in her thick Burnley accent.

You mimicked her accent, “What would that be?”

“Could you please get one of the nurses that isn't busy and ask them if we’re having tea with breakfast? They haven’t had tea at any meal in the last three days.” She looked up and smiled.

“Alright I’ll be right back” You replied while exiting her room with the light click of the door, trying to find a nurse that wasn’t busy.

You walked down the hall to find someone, and lo and behold the was a nurse sitting at the ‘second front desk’ to the next section of the home.

They were looking some files very calmly and you hoped that you weren’t going to bother them.

“Excuse me?” You softly spoke.

The nurse jumped and dropped the files on the floor.

You peered over the counter, “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright love, I’m clumsy anyway.” He chuckled nervously and looked up.

Wow, was your first thought.

The cute guy had light copper hair that had a bit of a curl to it. He was wearing sky blue scrubs and his eyes were like melted chocolate with dark circles around them that made him look exhausted.

He smiled at you attempting to make the silence a bit less awkward.

You shook your head quickly losing your train of thought while turning a light shade of pink.

“Right...uh I was just here to ask, are you serving tea at breakfast?” Learn how to speak dumbass.

“Yes we will be, and just in time too, it’s getting cold out there.” He gestured to the window behind him.

“Yeah, it’s crazy to think that it’s almost November.” You bit your tongue hoping that nothing stupid would come out because for once you were having a coherent conversation with someone attractive.

“Right? It feels like only yesterday summer just started…”

You smiled and nodded “Yeah…” silence “Right, thank you..-"

“Tom.” He he replied to the unasked question.

“Tom, thanks tom.” You gave him one more small smile before disappearing around the corner.

Re-entering your grandma’s room you gave her what she was looking for.

“They’re serving tea.”

“Oh thank goodness. I thought they were going to leave me here to freeze!” she smiled.

You chuckled, grabbing her little watering can and walking to her sink to fill it up, then you started watering her orchids. After about a minute of silence, out of the blue, she asked;

“So how are you?”

You looked at her confused. She gently hit you with the back of her hand, “Oh don’t give me that look. I’m aloud to wonder how my grand daughter is doing.”

“Yeah but I usually ask how you’re doing then you ask how I’m doing. What’s got you to switch it up?”

“Well I’m just a bit concerned about you.” Her brows knit together.

You cocked your head to the right while putting the watering can back and sitting down “Why’s that?”

“You visit me everyday which makes you unavailable for a full time job because I’m your priority and I feel like that needs to change. Visit me every other day or even once a week, I don’t mind sweetheart. I just want you to be stable and happy.”

“I-" she cut you off.

“Just promise me that you will start to take care of yourself before I go?” She looked up at you with pleading eyes.

“I-... I promise.” You allowed the ends of your lips to curl in an attempt to comfort her. She smiled back. The door opened,

“Morning Marjorie, time for breakfast.” The nurse said sweetly.

“Oh yay I get my tea!” Your Grandma stated excitedly as you started wheeling her out, giggling.

***

After breakfast you wheeled her back into her room,

“Y/n I know this sounds rude but I want you to leave. It’s good to start now.” That concerned look returned to her face.

You sighed. “Okay, I’ll see you Wednesday.”

You kissed her forehead, grabbed your jacket and purse and before you could touch the door knob, she called out to you.

“Before you go, could you please turn on my music?” She pointed her frail finger to the CD player on her nightstand.  

“Sure thing, do you want The Stones or Dean Martin?” You smiled fondly at her fantastic music taste.

“Surprise me.” She smirked.

Satisfaction by The Rolling Stones began to play quietly and your grandma seemed at ease.

“Thank you.”

You had one foot out the door when you heard,

“I love you.”

You smiled.

"I love you too."

--

So if you want to be tagged, just let me know, and like I said earlier, criticism is apreciated. Thanks for reading!

#tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader series #tom holland #peter parker x reader series #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x you #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe