#cecii22me

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock I need you to share something about Gojo. Jjk is getting worse with no hope in the future. Plis just a tiny part is god. 🙏🙏🙏🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Detour.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Mild not SFW implications, Gojo and Geto are Not normal about you, exhibiting possessive behavior. Word count: 1.2k.

-Index-

"—Excuse me, miss!" 

The exclamation barely registers amidst the crowded street's ambiance. Everyone has a destination they're eager to reach, and you're no different. Unlike those native to the area, however, you're more likely to get lost; hence your current conundrum. 

You examine the mess of squiggly lines, blocks, and patterns intended to function as a map. 

Kagurazaka, Kagurazaka... c'mon, I know this one... it starts with the kanji for god or something, right? 

While you scrutinize the map, the same voice from earlier calls out again, this time beside you. You glance around, not wanting to respond if he’s trying to flag down someone else. In doing so, it becomes increasingly obvious that you’re who he’s been trying to grab the attention of. 

From the looks of it, he’s a man in his late thirties, wearing a suit that could use a good ironing. You can’t recall meeting him before. Then again, you’re not privy to everything that happens back on campus. Meetings with influential figures frequently occur without your knowledge. You only ever find out about them later when Satoru loudly voices his critical view on everyone who attended. You are wearing your uniform, it’s recognizable to those in Jujutsu circles. 

You’d rather not stir up a scandal by unintentionally snubbing a Zenin or someone equally important. With this in mind, you politely inquire, “Can I help you?” 

“That uniform… you’re a high schooler, right?” 

You nod, figuring that this confirms your hypothesis. 

“What year?” 

This question makes less sense. Maybe he wants to know your proximity to Suguru, or, far likelier, Satoru. These types always have their own designs for the pride of the Gojo clan. 

“I’m a second-year.” 

“I see, I see,” he begins rummaging through his blazer’s inner pocket. He procures a business card and holds it out. “How about a job? From the looks of it, you’d make a good fit.” 

You blink. 

Are you… allowed to do freelance work? You’ve heard of specific sorcerers being requested for jobs, but that’s always been through the school. Besides, as a Grade Three, you don’t think you can go on unsupervised jobs. Not wanting to seem rude, you reach out to accept the card— 

—Only for it to be intercepted. 

“Sorry, she’s completely booked,” a voice that sounds the furthest thing from apologetic chimes in. 

Gojo Satoru stands to your right, adorned with his circular sunglasses and trademark grin. He rips the card in half without so much as a second thought. You stare at him, incredulous. Questions swarm around your head. When did he get here? How didn’t you notice him until now? Why does his cursed energy have such an unnerving quality to it? 

He bends down and hangs his arm around your shoulder. “You’re somethin’ else. Ignoring Suguru and I’s calls, chatting up strange men in Kabukichō… I swear, we can’t take our eyes off you for a second.” 

“Wh— I’m not chatting anyone up!” You whisper yell. His infinity nullifies enough for you to jab a finger at his chest. “Why can’t you give better directions?! ‘West of the Edo Castle’ doesn’t tell me anything, it just sounds like a TV drama!”

Satoru shrugs. “Should’ve just asked an auxiliary manager to drop you off.” 

“You might treat them like a personal taxi service, but I’d rather not. Taking the train’s fine.” 

The man finally overcomes the shock inflicted by Satoru’s audacity, taking a step forward. “What are you, her boyfriend or something?” 

“Bleh, no!” 

“Future husband.” 

Yours and Satoru’s responses come out simultaneously. 

“In that case—” 

“Excuse me,” A new presence interrupts the increasingly irritated man. Suguru wears a friendly smile which somehow comes across as more menacing than Satoru’s wolfish grin. He places a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You are aware that it’s a minor you’re trying to recruit, correct?” 

The man flushes at the accusation. “Listen, I dunno what you’re trying to accuse me of—” 

“I’d hate to see you get in trouble for a mistake like that,” Suguru cuts him off again, raising his voice ever so slightly. This attracts the attention of some bystanders. “Who knows what consequences that’d result in, especially for a married man like yourself…” 

Huh. You hadn’t even noticed the gold band on his ring finger. Suguru’s nothing if not perceptive. 

Nearby commuters whisper amongst themselves while eyeing the scene. The man’s gaze flits between a self-satisfied Satoru and an overly polite Suguru, eventually settling on an escape route. Wordlessly, he departs, although you swear you overhear him muttering ‘crazy kids’ and ‘doomed girl,’ along the way. 

“Yo, Suguru. Took you long enough.” 

“Unfortunately, not all of us can teleport.” 

“Your curse did a better job at tailin’ me than you.” 

Ignoring the jab, Suguru dusts his hands off while honing in on you. “You alright? You weren’t answering our calls.” 

“And you’re late,” Satoru whines. He helps himself to searching through your purse, taking your pink Razr hostage. “Huh. Battery’s dead.” 

Suguru appears content. “What’d I tell you?” 

“If she’s blocked me before, the same could happen to you.” 

“I wouldn’t block Suguru.” 

“She wouldn't block me.” 

This time, it’s you and Suguru who speak concurrently. Satoru pouts, putting his hands up like he’s under attack (which he probably believes himself to be). You snatch your phone back without issue, unlike when he last stole it. He unblocked himself and dangled it above your head until you promised you wouldn’t do that again.

“And here I was, about to treat you both to pastries,” Satoru sighs, melodramatic as ever. 

“While we were waiting for you, I noticed creampuffs and macaroons on the menu; which would you recommend?” Suguru inquires, not bothering to acknowledge Satoru’s complaints. 

“That depends on what you want from the experience,” you mimic his decision. “Creampuffs tend to be one flavor, whereas macaroons come in multiple, so the variety’s nice. When I get a variety pack, I always end up disliking one of the flavors and wishing I’d just gotten my favorites instead.” 

Satoru sighs as loud as he can. “Right, right, I’m just a walking wallet. Let’s get going before someone else solicits [First].” 

“Eh?” You turn your head to face Satoru. “‘Solicits?’ As in…?” 

“Se—” 

Suguru slaps a hand over Satoru’s mouth. “What he means to say is that this isn’t the best area for a high school girl to linger.”

“W-Wait, hold on! I thought he was like a… er, how would you say that… sorcerer employer?” 

They both stare at you. 

“You do know what Kabukichō’s famous for, right?” Suguru tentatively asks. 

“Hm? ‘Kabuki’ is a type of traditional theater, isn’t it?” 

“...” 

“...” 

“Let’s just show her what we mean,” Satoru bends down, picking up two halves of the business card he split in half earlier. “It’ll be a good lesson. I’d rather not have to come fetch her in this place again— oh.” 

Suguru inspects what has the power to shut Gojo Satoru up. You watch as his eyes move back and forth, his face shifting while he does so. His lips narrow into a thin line when he pulls back. Curious, you stand on your tiptoes, hoping to catch a glimpse yourself. Thankfully, there’s yomigana above some of the kanji you don’t recognize. This eliminates any possibility of you misreading the card’s contents. 

‘Oh’ indeed, you think. That poor guy…

It’s a business card for the company that oversees AKB48. 

[amysteryspot]

Hi, I’m obsessed with the post about the Solomon’s sibling. Can you do a Hanukkah with the Salomon siblings?

Hello love! It makes me so happy that you liked the Solomons’s headcanons that much 🤧. This fills my heart with joy!

Hanukkah with the Solomons is on the plans, yes. Just not sure if it’s going to be an actual fic or more headcanons. All I know is that we will be in for a wild ride, my friend. I’m doing some research on the traditions and stuff for it.

Read “The Solomons Siblings” here!

[ddarker-dreams]

We are very thankful with your generosity, Can I ask for Gojo or Chrollo crumbs plis?

"What's gotcha all worked up, anyway?"

Panting, you wipe the sweat accumulating on your temple.

From this angle, Satoru towers overhead, leisurely approaching with his hands tucked into his pockets. Your eyes rake over his form for any opening. Even in this casual posture, with his Infinity deactivated, you find nothing. Not even a sliver that has a one-in-a-million chance to make physical contact. You'd sooner tear the moon from the sky than inflict the most superficial injury upon him.

Satoru bends over, tilting his head as he inspects you. "Shouldn't we be, I dunno, using our words or something? Communication is the key to every healthy relationship."

"You're insufferable."

"Fair, fair— ah, back up already?" Satoru dodges a blow to his head. "Hate to say it, but this is your weakest attempt yet. Need a handicap?"

Another series of jabs fail to come within inches of his person.

"A hint?"

Then another.

"Wanna phone a friend, maybe?" He catches your wrist with a grin you can only describe as maniacal. "Alright, I'm calling a timeout. Can't have you going into cardiac arrest on me."

In an instant, you're spun around. He pins your arms together from behind, rendering any resistance impossible. Regardless, you do what you can, writhing around enough for him to slightly loosen his grip, lest he dislocate your wrist. You hear him sigh beside your ear.

"... Do you hate me that much?"

Your breath catches in your throat.

Memories come flooding through from the high tide he raised. Hours spent shoulder to shoulder, playing through the latest game release. Him trying to sneak bites of your dango while fireworks in the night sky distracted you. You, him, and a blurry third figure, traipsing through an aquarium, without a care in the world.

If he wasn't holding onto you, you think you may have collapsed.

A defeated laugh leaves your lips.

After what feels like an eternity, you admit what you both already know.

"I don't think I can."

[ddarker-dreams]

I really enjoyed the gojo fic!! You did great balancing his humor and eeriness.

At the end he was really trying to save the the relationship: your family can move, the job is better here, think in our baby Magumi, I’ll GIVE YOU FOOD. If this doesn’t convince you…

To me it show that he wants a semi normal relationship, whatever you feel fear or love is up to you, but he is not giving you up.

I wonder if older gojo won’t regret acting so suddenly. He is a lot less impulsive when he is older and he could have sabotage her without her notice it.

AAA thank you very much!!!!! at first, i told myself it'd be a short lil fic, but writing banter with gojo was so much fun that i had to keep going jsgklfs

i was considering the difference between brat high school gojo vs still a brat older gojo as well. i do think that older gojo would've had a more solid plan prepared in advance, he'd be sliiiiightly less volatile as well. slightly. which is why i decided to go with the high school setting because seeing him unhinged sounded interesting (and frightening). especially since his version of unhinged doesn't mean he's completely lost it, it still feels calculated and intentional. he's saying weird things with the express purpose of making reader uncomfortable. that's his 'revenge' of sorts for her trying to leave in the first place.

^ this really was gojo's ace in the hole. what are you gonna do???? abandon baby megumi????????? gojo would break out pictures if he had to. lay the guilt on thick.

"look at this sad orphan, can you in good conscience leave him behind?"

like what are you supposed to say to that..........

[ddarker-dreams]

Chrollo brainrot: when he likes a book too much and wants to debate it with you, he start leaving the book around all over the house

He could ask you to read it, but that would give you too much power in his mind. So he leave it in your bedroom, in your wardrobe, in the bathroom.

If you are not picking in soon enough he start messing with others hobbies to make you bored enough. Suddenly, All the others books are in Latin, your crafts are missing and the tv doesn’t work.

I love Chrollo wanting his own club book so he kidnap you

HE IS PETTY FOR A LIVING ... he's trying so hard to do subliminal messaging without. y'know. the important 'subliminal' part.

he would resort to the most annoying methods to get you to do what he wants. then, to make matters worse, he'll deny any involvement should you confront him about it. chrollo's such a talented actor that you can't help but almost believe him.

it's almost odd the degree he values your input on certain topics/books. while he's naturally condescending in your day to day life, this air of his disappears entirely when you're sharing your thoughts on a chapter or whatever. he'll sit there, nodding and listening attentively, asking questions for you to elaborate when it seems appropriate to do so. of course, you'll be hearing about it at length if he disagrees with your thoughts, but it feels more like an equal dialogue than what you're used to.

he just finds your input genuinely interesting. it's a door to your soul. what you stand for, where you draw the line, the details that jump out to you that he may have overlooked... he commits these aspects of you to memory.

[ddarker-dreams]

Imagine darling starting tricky religious subject in her parent house, with the hope that Chrollo would ruin it.

He does not, but his tongue hurts of all the times he bit it

chrollo when he has to go an entire evening without mentioning the apocryphal texts to flex his intellectual prowess to everyone present:

later that night, he'd tell his darling with the most Strained smile that this should serve as sufficient proof he can overcome any trial they throw his way. he's acting nonchalant but you can feel the irritation radiating off of him. this is one of the best methods to inflict psychic damage on him. he deserves it too. feel no remorse.

[ddarker-dreams]

Ahhhh what’s piece. I would say it is one of my favorites but I think that every time you write.

Chrollo if lancery is what you find confortable, why don’t you give it a try for the rest of the ride?

As alway I love how you give personality to darling. It makes me understand better the Yandere obsession.

AA thank you so much 💖💖 i felt for a story like this, darling being more audacious would work best. there's also something funny to me about the dynamic of a feral darling and chrollo trying to keep them somewhat under wraps, while still enjoying their unhinged nature. he's just radiating amusement. he takes so much with a grain of salt. some yanderes have a zero nonsense policy but not chrollo. some nonsense is allowed (and even encouraged).

LMAOOOO if you were curious about the thought process behind this question that seemingly came out of left field, i was thinking that chrollo wanted to completely throw darling for a loop. hit her with something she wasn't expecting in the slightest. that way, he'd get the most bang for his buck (heheh) because darling would be bound to ramble away, due to how unexpected the question was. so there's that conniving part but also . yeah he's down bad for darling. don't be fooled. he might be quoting the odyssey or whatever like it's what he does for a living, but he's still a man who goes brrr darling hot brrr

currently sweating bullets because this actually didn’t occur to me when i was writing the story... but it’d seem so cool if it was intentional ... so i’m gonna. say that it was. i’ll roll with it. i really love that observation though!!! at the time, i was thinking about eros/storge/agape, so this does actually line up in a way??? i love that... thank you for sharing this thought <333 

IT’S ALWAYS ON THE BACK BURNER OF HIS MIND ... 

personally, i think chrollo is the type to hold a grudge over a long period of time, he might not do anything in the immediate aftermath but the bitterness lingers. it’s likely to come back and bite her months later. hell, he’ll even bring it up years later if he’s so inclined. he waits for the most opportune moment to get his payback tenfold. it’d probably be more of a reaction to something reader does or says, he’ll bring up her exact wording from the interaction and challenge her with it. he likes to provoke with a calm smile. 

and thank you so much for enjoying the story <333

i feel chrollo has the capacity to experience hurt! we see him genuinely emote in the manga/anime when there was nothing for him to gain by acting manipulative. he undoubtedly has super thick skin, but depending on the situation, some of what darling says or does can penetrate that. he wouldn’t be obvious about it though. he’ll either write it off by acting sulky to hide how truly upset he is, or just cover it up completely. you’d have to have a hawk’s eye to realize the extent of it. 

AAA thank you so much for giving it a shot!! chrollo is my favorite character of all time, across everything i’ve ever watched/read, so i’ve made it my personal mission to introduce him to more people. i can never recommend hxh enough to anyone who might be the slightest bit interested. there’s literally nothing like it. i would give anything to experience the series again for the first time. it’s a masterpiece. 

[ddarker-dreams]

What if Chie doesn’t like to share her mum? How would scara react if his daughter isn’t too fond of him?

UH OH........... it would be very overwhelming for chie once you breaks the new that yes, this is indeed her father, and that their entire lifestyle is going to change because of him. she'd still be allowed to play outside and such but the environment in inazuma is so different, she'd be in culture shock for some time. children are good at sensing people's character too. when she sees how tense you are around scara, she'll be confused, wondering why you're not happy with him like other wives are with their husbands. just pray to any god that hasn't abandoned you yet that she does not ask that in front of him. otherwise he'll be like hm, that's a good point honey, why do you act like that? all smiley and horrifying.

you'd have to break down her behavior to scaramouche since it'd be completely lost on him. if chie didn't like him, then he's just ? because he's completed his dad check list. gave house. gave clothes. gave food. what more does the little gremlin want? why is she so needy?? he just wants her to think he's cool and strong. when is that part going to happen?

if chie tried to hog your attention, scaramouche would not be pleased. before she's at the age to be tutored, she spends most of her time with you, whereas he has to be off working for this godforsaken family. so when he comes home he wants all of your affection and nothing less than that. he's kinda fine with her being in the room, but if she's the only one you're talking to, his brain wants to short circuit. gets some nanny to scoop her away so he can have alone time with you.

[ddarker-dreams]

I think reunion is the best outcome scenario that reader can expect. Even if reader doesn’t feel that way, chrollo can be way worse.

Love that she kept one dress, to chrollo it must have look like she wasn’t over him. It must have been endearing.

I can imagine reader pressing for family gathering being when chrollo is away, but chrollo organize the same opposite when he wants to annoy reader. Not too many times tho, he does like to be alone as a couple.

it's really interesting to see what everyone would've chosen at chrollo's proposition 👀👀

there's no doubting that he was endlessly amused by the sight of reader wearing a dress he picked for her, he was probably wondering what mental gymnastics she went through to justify the choice to herself.

i thought about throwing in some reference to reader having a socioeconomic gap in comparison to her cousin's side of the family but decided to leave it more implied than anything. in situations like that where i'm surrounded by ladies wearing 600 dollar purses talking about their upcoming trips to europe or some yacht club w/e, i can't help but feel self-conscious HTKEMLR although i assume that's a somewhat universal experience. if i ever were to continue the storyline, chrollo would really hone in on that factor...

thank you for sharing your thoughts!!!

[ddarker-dreams]

I think Expedient is only one of the few fic where the character feels something similar to “guilt”

When reader spoke about sacrifice, scara understood they he would never love her like that. Oh, he is all about sacrifice, just not his own.

Unlike others yandere, there is not self convincing that is for your own good, he knows the nightmare he is, but I don’t know if that’s better or worse

Excellent work as always!!!

scaramouche, oh scaramouche...

AAA i love your analysis!! "Oh, he is all about sacrifice, just not his own." very spot on. like you said, i posed the question of is it worse for a yandere to convince themself what they're doing is for their darling, or to be self-aware enough to recognize it's bad for them yet carry through regardless. this story came as a result hrjtkme i wanted themes of guilt but . also in character. scaramouche has some very rough form of sympathy, just... no empathy.

i wanted this story to be him struggling with this newfound sympathy, because Wow he realizes he could really do without it, feelings are awful!!! yikes!!!

thank you so much for the feedback <33333333333333333

[ddarker-dreams]

in the rare chance that first and chrollo have a kid, would Estella raise it?

It seems the best solution for me, since neither first or chrollo life style are good for a kid, they may visit tho, (it would be fun to see the troupe as weird uncles and aunts)

THINKING EMOJI... should i delve into the lore of HWR reader and chrollo's potential kid ? every now and then i play around with the idea. i haven't settled on anything definitively, but it does somewhat look like what you described.

neither of them live a conventional life, to say the least. if HWR reader were to end up pregnant, it'd definitely be an accident. chrollo is honestly the type that probably wouldn't get too involved into the kid is older/able to hold a conversation. not that HWR reader is much better off herself. they can both read as many developmental psychology books as they want, their parenting methods would still be questionable at best...

if they were to keep the child, HWR reader would probably end up having the little one raised at her home estate. she'd be very hesitant to let estella be the main caretaker though. it's been touched on lightly in the series, but she has a certain apprehension toward her older sister. the kiddo would probably just have a lot of nannies that HWR reader vetted herself.

i really like the thought of them having one lil daughter who is a specialist. i can't decide whether i'd want her to be more reserved like her parents, or just the complete opposite of that; a super bubbly bundle of energy who runs amuck. the latter seems like a funny dynamic ngl.

[ddarker-dreams]

Hi I just wanna let you know that I think you are banned, like I can’t search you up nor see your published work

aha yeah i do think i've been shadowbanned... it says i have no posts flagged as explicit, so i'm pretty confused. i just sent in a support ticket to tumblr and will be awaiting their response. in the meantime, i can't respond to messages so i apologize to anyone who has sent me one hjtkmegr this kinda flatlined my motivation to right until its resolved so i'm 😔 hopefully it gets resolved soon ...

[ddarker-dreams]

Im confused about the can/can’t kiss chart, can kiss refers to permission or ability to kiss?

can kiss means that they're able to kiss well, whereas can't kiss means they can't kiss well !! in my mind at least. who knows, perhaps xiao is a casanova. it's just my interpretation of things.

[hb-writes]

Like the Leaves

Summary: Set in the Little Lady Blinder universe in 1914. In the wake of Greta’s passing, Tommy’s little sister offers him some comfort.

Featuring: Tommy Shelby, Clara Shelby, Greta Jurossi (mentioned)

Clara had been awake for close to an hour, woken in the middle of the night by an unexplainable bit of strain clenching her chest, a distinct tugging and compression somehow working at her heart at the very same time. She’d experienced it before, a slight twinge, a bit of tenderness she’d come to understand as a warning that something wasn’t quite right.

Finn snored heavily in the bed beside her, not at all noticing his sister’s anxious movement, so Clara knew it was late. And beyond that, silence had settled on the street below and throughout the house, a quiet that only came when the streets of Small Heath emptied and the cool evening wind died down, most people safe at home, tucked away in their warm beds. 

Well, silence had settled. And then Tommy came home, and once he had, there was a slammed door and a burst of short words followed by some stomping up the stairs before the silence returned.

Clara saw a bit of light through the open bedroom door, dim as it filtered down from the room at the end of the hall. Her brother had not stopped at their door on the way to his. It was his passing by without stopping that finally forced Clara up from the bed, spurred to action after close to an hour of looking up to the ceiling with nothing but her thoughts and the strain in her chest to occupy her. Tommy always looked in on them, always checked to be sure they were asleep, and sorted whatever it was keeping them up if they weren’t. 

Tommy’s room was just down the hall, only a few steps, and even at six years old, Clara had already mastered getting there while making the least bit of noise, able to avoid the creakier floorboards even in the limited light. 

She pushed open her brother’s half-closed door without knocking. 

“Just fuck off,” Tommy said at the intrusion, nearly adding on a desperate ‘alright?’. He was unable to in the end, so certain his voice would break on those two extra syllables, the strain already there in the slow but sharp words he’d already said.

Clara shuffled her feet. Most people would have done as he had said, would’ve left Tommy to himself, especially with that tone, those words, but Clara wasn’t most people, and even when her brother frightened her, he didn’t, and the same push and pull active in her chest was working on her feet, nudging her on towards her brother’s anguish while also holding her back from the anger. 

Sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, Tommy hadn’t even bothered to look up, assuming it was Polly coming in to make some attempt at comfort after he’d brushed her off downstairs, but it wasn’t Polly that had come to his door. Polly would have spoken by now, and in the quiet, Tommy found himself missing it, longing for the words and whatever comfort he’d just been so eager to shoo away. He glanced up, prompted by the lack of retreating steps and his sudden yearning, to see Clara, wide-eyed and frozen in the doorway. 

She was used to hearing bad words, and had heard just about every variation of the word “fuck” tumble from her brothers’ mouths, and Ada and Polly’s, too, but Clara wasn’t used to Tommy’s tone or his directing those types of words at her. She stared back at her brother, taking in his red-rimmed eyes and the unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and Tommy felt like in just those three seconds, the kid had seen more of him, and knew more of him, than anyone else ever had. And that was saying something.

Because Tommy usually was himself with his little sister, and gave himself to her more completely than he did to anyone else, aside from maybe Greta, which was a different thing altogether, but there were still things Tommy liked to keep for himself. Grief and pain, for one. A six-year-old had no need to hold any of that for him. Clara would have a whole lifetime to collect her own.

Tommy took a deep breath, guilt seeping into his chest and swirling about with the grief that was already there, stretching him to exhaustion, everything in him tired and weary from holding it together, but the girl at his door, the duty he felt to her, and even the swirling guilt he felt for shouting at her was a reprieve from the grief, a welcome excuse to set even a portion of it aside. 

Tommy set the cigarette down on the nightstand before running a hand over his face and taking another breath to reset himself, clearing his throat to rid his voice of the hurt. 

“What is it, Clara?”

A nightmare, Tommy assumed, or a burning question, some grand moral dilemma his little sister couldn’t stifle or hold until the morning. It wasn’t beyond Clara Shelby to address that type of thing at three am. 

“I don’t know,” she answered, shoulders heaving in a shrug, and she placed her hand over her chest. “You know when something hurts right here and you can’t sleep?” 

“Come ‘ere,” Tommy answered, and Clara crossed the floor on bare feet, allowing him to pull her up onto his lap. 

Tommy slipped off his boots and leaned back against the headboard, taking Clara along with him, her head already resting against his chest by the time he settled.

“You and Finn were sleeping just fine when I got home,” he said, though he hadn’t known for sure, only knowing that the room had been quieter than the stomping of his feet as he’d gone by.

“How do you know?”

“Your door’s on the way to mine.”

“But you didn’t look,” Clara answered. “I was awake.”

“And why’s that?”

Clara shrugged again, absently playing with the buttons on Tommy’s shirt, the gentle cadence of their conversation soothing them both though Clara was still carefully studying her brother, a series of casual glances cast upwards whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. 

Polly was always saying how aware their Clara was, curious and perceptive and persistent just as he had always been. Clara and Tommy Shelby were far too much of those qualities for their own good was actually the sentiment Polly liked to portray, a bit of an insult wrapped in a compliment, because Polly was proud of her niece and nephew, even though those things were the source of her headaches more often than not. 

Tommy leaned his head back against the wall, looking up to the ceiling as Clara continued with her fiddling. He wouldn’t wish being like him or the depth of his feelings and thoughts and perceptions on anyone, but especially not on the little girl sitting with him now. 

“Is she okay, Tommy?” Clara mumbled.

“Is who okay?” he asked.

“Your Greta.”

Tommy could feel that Clara’s head was still resting against his chest, her fingers picking at his shirt button, so he let a single stubborn tear fall, his face turned towards the door so it didn’t fall on his sister’s head. 

She was uniquely perceptive for such a young child, something which Polly attributed to some wild, roaming heart she was always claiming for the two of them, but it still surprised Tommy when Clara picked up on something she had no business picking up on.

He hadn’t told her Greta was sick, had barely spoken of it to anyone except Polly, but he figured Clara had overheard something. She and Finn were always somewhere they were meant to be, hearing things not intended for their ears, and if she was calling her his Greta, a term of endearment Tommy couldn’t imagine his Clara willingly coming to on her own, she’d heard it first from Polly.

“No, Clara. No, she is not,” Tommy answered after a shaky breath and a pause.

Clara sat herself up, a determined frown on her face, a fresh wetness in her eyes threatening to spill on her face. She reached out and wiped away the tear on her brother’s cheek.

“No more tears, Tommy. She wouldn’t want you to be sad. She’s like the leaves now.”

It was the same sentiment they had repeated to the twins any time they’d asked about their mother’s death, some sentimental words he’d given them about people leaving, like leaves on autumn trees. 

And Tommy hadn’t even told her that Greta had died. 

Clara just knew. 

Eyes closed, Tommy shook his head, more in disbelief than anything else. He hadn’t wanted to smile, didn’t think he’d be able to, but at Clara’s words he couldn’t help himself. 

“You’re a good girl, Clara,” Tommy said. “A good girl who needs to get some rest.”

“But you still hurt?” she asked, resting her hand flat over Tommy’s heart. “Right here?”

Tommy nodded. “That’s why I need you to help me get some rest.”

“To heal the hurt?” 

Tommy nodded. “Can you do that?” he asked, his question rendered unnecessary by the fact that Clara had already gone for the end of the bed, retrieving the blanket left there and pulling it over them both before reaching across him to put out the light.

“You sleep now, Tommy. You need to rest.”

--

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist

--

🏷:

@beautycinders​ @buckybluebarnes @cecii22me @hannahrahan​@lovemissyhoneybee​ @marquelapage​ @midnight-dreams-23​ @mo-onstarrs​ ​@ohhersheybars​ @pollyrepents​ @unicorndetective22 ​

[hb-writes]

The Walk-In Appointment

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara learns to walk a bit later than her twin, but once she does there’s no stopping her from following her big brother around wherever he goes. Set in May 1909.

Characters: Tommy Shelby, Ada Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Polly Gray, and Clara Shelby

Warnings: Swearing

Hope you enjoy this little piece since the next chapter isn’t coming yet. This was inspired by the lovely @cecii22me​’s ask and I’m so absolutely softened by the idea of Clara learning to walk and chasing around her ‘Ta’ / ‘TaTa’ as that’s what I’ve decided she’d call Tommy before she could get the whole name out properly.

-----

Ada stood her little sister up on her feet, holding her small hands as she encouraged a bit of walking. Clara humored Ada for a few steps, always did so, but lowered herself to the ground as soon as Ada tried to pull her hands away.

Finn took his first steps a few months before his twin sister, toddling around on the first floor and out into the shop if they left the doors open with little care for his own safety. He’d taken the first steps while walking towards his mother’s outstretched arms, the baby’s smiling face as he moved towards her a bright spot in what had come to be some tiring and difficult days for the woman. 

But five months later, Clara still hadn’t shown an interest. Since their mother’s passing, the baby had become more clingy, more likely to request a sibling’s or her aunt’s arms, searching every adult face around her for that of her missing mother. She’d crawl, when necessary, but more often stayed put, playing quietly by herself while Finn made a mess of things around her. 

Polly told her niece and nephews to not worry about Clara’s lack of steps. One toddling Shelby was more than enough to handle and each of them had walked at different times. Clara was the latest of the six Shelby children though, now three months past her first birthday. 

“Let her be, Ada,” Polly chided as Ada tried to force her younger sister up again, the toddler putting up a great protest and pulling against Ada’s hold as she tried to get back to the ground. 

Ada stopped fighting with Clara, instead pulling the girl up to rest on her skinny hip. “Finny walked ages ago, Clara. Don’t you want to walk?”

“Your sister will walk when she’s ready,” Polly answered. “I can’t imagine why you’re surprised she’s just as stubborn as the rest of you.” 

Ada kissed her sister’s cheek and Clara settled against Ada’s chest for a moment, her little version of a hug.

“You’re not stubborn, are you, lovey? You’re just a sweet little thing.” Ada rubbed her sister’s back. “A sweet little lovey who wants to try walking for sissy one last time.”

Ada set Clara on her feet at the moment Tommy walked through the front door, disturbing the peace of the front room as he let it slam behind him. 

Tommy passed his aunt and sisters without a word on his way to the shop, ignoring the baby’s incessant repeating of his name, a continuous stream of ‘Ta Ta Ta Ta’ growing louder as he disappeared from her view. 

Ada released her sister’s hands to cover her ears, anticipating the unrelenting shriek that had become commonplace when the baby didn’t get what she wanted, but it didn’t come. Clara continued chanting after Tommy, taking her first steps as she shouted after her brother.

Polly glanced up from the paper at Ada’s excited squeal.

“I told you she’d walk when ready,” she offered, setting the paper aside and standing up.

Clara tumbled at the threshold to the shop, falling back on her bottom. Ada stepped forward to help her sister only to be stopped by Polly’s hand on her wrist.

Clara’s face scrunched up as she tugged on the thick curtains using them to stand up and gripping them until she was safely over the threshold. 

Clara’s shouting for Tommy grew louder as she stepped into the shop, her little voice trying to overcome the volume of the scattered conversations taking place. Despite not clearly seeing Tommy, she took no deviations in her route as she headed towards Arthur’s office, the only place she’d ever come in the shop, always carried there on someone’s hip to visit the oldest Shelby brother. 

Tommy caught sight of her steps only because a lull in the noise of the shop caused him to back out of Arthur’s doorway and look around, his sister’s shout perfectly timed to the sudden silence of the room. 

He’d come home annoyed about some decision made about the horses, about to tell Arthur off, but he felt that anger leave him as he registered what was happening, the baby toddling towards him, her fair curls bouncing with each determined step. There was something new in her little gap-toothed smile, something in her serious uttering of the name she’d bestowed upon him months ago, the sound interspersed with her self-satisfied giggles, and it all made Tommy forget what he’d come in for in the first place because it was the most animated he’d seen the baby in months, the closest to happy he’d felt in months.

Arthur, Ada, and Polly were all watching by now, too, an almost foreign feeling which felt decidedly close to bliss swelling in them as Clara reached Tommy’s side. The baby gripped the fabric of her brother’s trousers in her small hands, tugging as she looked up to him.

“Up, Ta, up!”

Tommy leaned down to pull the girl into his arms, kissing her head. “Hello there, Clara girl.” 

“Of course her first steps would be following after you,” Ada said, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against one of the tables.

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Ada,” Arthur said, rubbing his finger along the baby’s cheek. “I had your first steps. It’s only fair Tommy gets Clara’s.” 

Clara put her palm to Tommy’s cheek, turning him towards her when his eyes moved to follow the conversation of their siblings.

“No, TaTa, no,” she said, her little voice sharp. “No. No. No.”

She grasped Tommy’s hand and swatted it. “No, Ta!”

Ada snorted, giggles escaping her lips as she watched the baby, her brow still furrowed despite appearing to be finished with her chastising.

“You’re in fucking trouble now, Tommy,” Arthur said, chuckling.

The handful of times the twins had picked up something they weren’t supposed to, done some little bit wrong, or put themselves in some unsafe predicament, they’d gotten a little warning tap on the hand. 

“What’s that for, my girl?” Tommy asked, trying to keep a straight face. 

“You’ve been bad, Thomas, ignored her when you came through just now,” Polly answered. “And Arthur, find better words, please. I don’t want the baby repeating that one.” 

Tommy shifted the toddler in his arms. “Is that it, my girl? Ta didn’t say hello so you decided to walk in here to let me have it?” He kissed her head. “I’m very sorry, sweet girl. I should’ve said hello.”

Clara was already cuddling into his chest, giving a hug, her little hands gripping his shirt and Tommy waited, resting his chin on her head and letting her cuddle a bit before placing her on the floor beside him. 

“Alright, you go off to Ada now or she’ll pout the rest of the evening,” Tommy encouraged, wishing he hadn’t yet started the conversation with Arthur. He’d much rather pass the hour before supper with Clara, but he had little choice in it now. 

“C’mon. Show us those big girl steps and I’ll see you for supper.” 

Clara took two steps towards her sister’s outstretched hands, turning back when Tommy stepped into Arthur’s office. 

“Ta!” she said, holding a hand out to him. 

Tommy took a deep breath, unable to hide his smile as he looked down at her.

“TATA!” she yelled, walking back to him. 

“Give me a minute, Arthur,” Tommy said, taking one of Clara’s hands, stooping a bit to one side as she led him from the shop and back to the sitting room with Ada and Polly. Tommy settled her on the floor and played with his sisters for a few moments before standing up. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised. “You stay with Ada.” 

Tommy was grateful for Ada’s distraction, grateful that they didn’t have to suffer a tantrum because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to not give in to her on it.

Tommy and Arthur were just settling in to talk when there was a banging at the office door, a firm repetition of knocks.

“Christ, can’t even have a fucking conversation in this place. Get that, Tommy, won’t you?”

Tommy stood up and pulled his brother’s door open, glancing down at the threshold to see their visitor.

“We have a walk-in appointment, Arthur.”

“A what?” Arthur asked, unable to see a thing beyond his desk. 

“A walk-in. Our Clara’s here demanding an audience.” Tommy lifted the girl into his arms.

“Well, best let her in, then,” Arthur answered. “No hope in her staying where’s she’s told now. We really are fucked.” 

“Fuck!” Clara said, the same self-satisfied grin on her face as when she’d walked towards Tommy, her giggles filling the room as Tommy and Arthur both started laughing. 

“I won’t tell Aunt Polly if you don’t,” Arthur said. 

“I don’t think it’s me you have to bargain with to keep the secret, Arthur,” Tommy answered as he settled the giggling girl on his lap.

“Fuck,” Arthur said again, covering his mouth as the three siblings dissolved into laughter once again, Tommy and Arthur finding themselves entirely incapable of returning to their previous discussion with the little girl shouting out her new favorite word every time their laughter subsided.

———

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist.

------

🏷: @midnight-dreams-23 @cecii22me @pollyrepents @mo-onstarrs

[hb-writes]

Roses are Red, Ledger Books are Blue

Inspired by this anon request: If you're still taking requests, baby clara being better than john at doing the books

Summary: It’s 1913 in the Little Lady Blinder universe and John, the sleep-deprived father of two babies under the age of one falls asleep in the middle of working on the books to find his five-year-old sister Clara has borrowed them. 

Featuring: John Shelby and Clara Shelby

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"Where is it?" John shouted as he pushed things about on his desk, searching for the ledger book he'd been working on before falling asleep.

"Oi!" He shouted at the men at the other end of the shop. "It was right here just now. Where the fuck is it? Did one of you take it?"

The boys were becoming used to it, John falling asleep at his desk, drooling on the open ledger books, waking up shouting and confused. He blamed it on the new baby at home, the second child born in a little under a year, the two screaming infants keeping him and Martha up more than half the night.

It wasn't long before the boys pointed John in the direction of the dining room and he stalked off, assuming Polly had taken the ledgers once again. He swore to himself as he made his way across the shop. He had no need or desire to hear his aunt's complaints again about what he was doing, or not doing, with the books. It wasn't his fault he was so tired he could barely stay awake long enough to get through a single page. Truth was, by this time of day the numbers started looking to him like symbols from a foreign language.

As he stalked off, John could hear his little sister, her singsong voice floating through the crack in the shop doors.

"Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Sugar is sweet,

And so are—"

"Clara!"

Clara jumped up at the shouting of her name, mouth fallen open and her eyes growing wide. John snatched away the book the little girl had in front of her. A pack of six crayons sat beside her, the blue one still clasped in her small hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" John said as he lifted the book in his hands, his eyes automatically drawn to the blue marks on the page. "No, no, no. Christ, Clara! I've told you. Tommy's told you. Everyone's fucking told you. These books aren't for playing."

"I wasn't playing," she answered.

"You were coloring in the books. That's pla—"

"I'm not coloring!" Clara stood on the chair, reaching across the table. "So, give it back! I'm not done yet!"

"Not done making a fucking mess of things?" John ran a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell. Polly's gonna have us both for this and don't think I'll help you out of it. You might as well go ahead and put yourself in that corner and—"

"No! I wasn't being naughty and I won't go in the corner," she answered. "I was only helping fix your mistakes!"

John stilled, cocking his head to the side as he processed her words. "You what?"

"I was fixing your mistakes," Clara repeated, "'cause Aunt Polly said if you didn't stop…" Clara glanced around the room to be sure they were alone before continuing in a too-loud whisper. "fucking up the books…You'll be out of a job."

Polly hadn't meant the comment, was only letting out a bit of frustration at John's recent lack of attention to detail when she'd said it, but Clara didn't know that.

"There were only a very few mistakes," Clara said, "and I did up the rest of the adding. Well, I almost finished."

John glanced down at the page and now that he focused, saw nothing more than some crude blue numbers written beside his perfect black-inked penmanship. There was no 'CLARA' written out and no little hearts or rainbows or stick-figure families drawn on the pages as he'd expected. John sighed as he met his sister's eye across the table.

"The teacher says I'm good with numbers," Clara said, biting her bottom lip as she twisted a bit where she stood on the chair. "Did I do it right?"

John came around the table and lifted her, settling them both in the chair with the book in front of them. She pointed to a particular line in the ledger. "This one was hard. I didn't know if—"

"Yeah, sweetheart," John said, placing a kiss at her temple. "You did it right. Next time we'll get you a proper writing utensil, eh? That way no one'll know you're helping me out."

Clara shifted, getting a bit more comfortable on her brother's lap. "Can I come help with the babies after we finish the books?"

"You wanna help with the babies?" John asked.

"They're making you too sleepy."

John took a breath and rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. His sister was right. He and Martha had never been more exhausted in their lives. "Why not? I'm sure Martha wouldn't mind the company and you can help me make dinner."

"Can we make biscuits?"

John rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he yawned. "How about you let me finish these books and you get started baking? We'll bring 'em home for Martha."

"We'll make her favorite," Clara said as she hopped off his lap, "and while they're baking, I can look over your work?"

"Sure," John answered, pulling the pencil from behind his ear as he began scanning through the five-year-old's work, not a single mistake to be found in the rows of blue crayon.

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder here.

🏷:

@beautycinders

@buckybluebarnes

@cecii22me

@lovemissyhoneybee

@marquelapage

@midnight-dreams-23

@mo-onstarrs

@ohhersheybars

@pollyrepents

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