#don’t panic inspector!

[thedemon-crowley]

Mr. Crowley. I have, as the humans say, fucked up.

Someone told me to ask eric something so i did but i didnt REALISE and now theyre going to hate me forever i think im going to go back to heaven and stay there and give the bookshop to someone else and never come back to earth again that way they wont have to look at me or see me or talk to me ever again and

ERM. I…I don’t think you’re supposed to say that word but—not important

Okay, let’s just. Take a deep breath, explain what happened. I’m sure we can fix it, just…yknow, don’t jump to anything that drastic just yet.

Besides, who would look after the bookshop if you left? You’re the only other angel I trust with it, for one. They’d probably send Michael down, and Michael’s a wanker.

[youghostandyoutrick]

Been going through FFN and downloading all the old Ghost Trick fics after that GoDaddy DNS scare recently and

I found a Cabajowd fic that managed to survive the last thirteen years of FFN’s homophobic bullshit

Not only that, it appears to be the first Cabajowd fic

And also it made me tear up T-T

(If this link ever breaks, lmk immediately, I have the fic downloaded and will be happy to provide it upon request unless the author herself requests otherwise)

[bumblebugwrites]

Borrowed and Blue

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: In another brilliant plot to keep the agency afloat, Lockwood decides to marry you for tax benefits. Only he seemed to have forgotten to let you know. With an inspector from DEPRAC coming to ensure the legitimacy of your marriage, what’s left but to tell you the truth? Only you don’t take it too well. And you happen to be the world’s worst liar.

Warnings: Cursing, Minor angst, Unedited writing.

A/N: So “Lover” coded that I had to indulge myself with the title.

Word Count: 3.1k 

“Luce, I’ll need you to go to Satchell’s and pick some salt-bombs; we’ve been running pretty low lately. And George, once you’ve hit the Archive for the day, if you could–”

As Lockwood’s incessant directions continued, you allowed your head to slump forward so as to obscure his looming figure with the shape of the quickly cooling mug in your hands.

“Oh, and that reminds me (Y/N), the inspector’s coming round this afternoon to ensure the validity of our marriage, so I’ll need you to be prepared for that.” That sentence alone was enough to pull you away from your own thoughts.

“Excuse me?” The question was followed by a soft chuckle, the kind you only managed when you’d been caught off guard.

“Did I forget to tell you about the visit?” 

“You’re joking, right?”

Across the small table, George cleared his throat awkwardly, moving to make his escape before Lucy’s sweater-clad arm shot out, pulling him back into his seat, fully enthralled with the happenings before her.

“Lockwood?” From his place at the counter, he hummed back in response. Still, the brunet had busied himself at an unprecedented pace with making a piece of toast and refused to turn his head in acknowledgment.

“This is a joke, right? Because I would know if we were actually married, right?” He made no answer, but his avoidance of your gaze had already been enough to send you over the edge, and you nearly reeled as a physical spike of panic shot through your core.

“Anthony Lockwood, you answer me right now.” You were standing now and teetering on the edge of making your way out into the entry and returning with some choice words and your rapier.

“Well, it’s not like you missed the marriage. I did bring you along.”

“What?”

“You remember that day I brought you with me to the Register Office?”

“You said you needed someone to co-sign the water bill.”

“I gave you a ring–”

“You said you got that out of one of those coin machines full of toys! I thought it was just a silly gift!”

“Right, well, I’m not buying you another wedding ring, so you had better still have it.”

“Lockwood! You can’t just marry someone without asking!” By now, you had left your seat to jab angrily at his chest as you marked each new point. From her place beside George, Lucy slurped at her tea.

“Look, I had already mortgaged the house to hell and back, and we needed the money desperately, so I figured an extra tax write-off couldn’t hurt.” And though it shouldn’t have, the rage quelled itself a little.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” But your voice lacked the anger from before, hitting sharper as each word was tinged with hurt.

“You would have said no. And besides, you’re a terrible liar.” Lockwood flashed you with his signature smile at that last bit, and you couldn’t help the warmth that began to bloom deep within you. You had to admit, being married to Lockwood wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Especially with the insufferable feelings you’d been housing for the boy for the last year and a half. Still, this was not how you wanted things to go. 

“But wait, that trip to the Register’s Office was at least a year ago. Why are they coming for a visit now?” One of Lockwood’s hands which had planted itself on your shoulder in a soothing gesture, leapt up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Well, the thing is, because we aren’t legally adults and neither of us have any parents to sign off on a marriage, I had to pull some strings with DEPRAC to get the license to even go through. So now, every year, to make sure everything is all legal, or whatever–” Lockwood raised his hands to form air quotes around the word legal but quickly retracted them as you swatted at the gesture.

“--they’ve insisted on sending an agent to perform a kind of check-in. To make sure we’re still in love and all that.”

“Still?” George questioned, only to be met with a prompt smack to the head from Lucy.

“So are you saying we could lose our jobs over this?”

“Let’s not forget the house,” supplied Lucy from behind her mug.

“And the house?” Lockwood didn’t answer immediately, instead selecting to fix his eyes on the floor.

“Presumably, yes, that could be one outcome–”

“Oh my god,” George groaned, moving his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“But not if all goes well,” Lockwood reassured the group.

“Right, so let me get this straight, the fate of our careers–”

“And our home,” Lucy interjected once more.

“And our home, is all in the hands of (Y/N), a notoriously bad liar, lying to a Fittes agent about a marriage she was unaware of until this morning?” George questioned.

“That would be correct.”

“We are so fucked.”

It had taken Lucy an hour to calm you down, let alone lure you out from under the covers of your shared bed. 

“I’ll kill him if you’d like me to.”

“Urgh, it’s not that, Luce, it’s just–” 

“It’s just that you wanted things to go differently?” Lucy raised a suggestive eyebrow as a slow smirk spread across her face, but there was no malice in her look. Embarrassed, you turned to hide your face in the pillow beside you.

“Look, Lockwood’s a twat, but he cares about you, and I’m sure if you asked, he would end the whole thing in a second. He was just, well, I hate to say it, but he was just trying to look out for us. In his own, extremely fucked up Lockwood way.” Lucy added the last sentence in a quick attempt to amend the ever-souring scowl on your face.

“And hey, who knows, maybe something will finally come out of this. I mean, you have to admit, being married is pretty romantic.” She smiled at you, and it was soft, encouraging almost.

“Besides, it’s not like the two of you weren’t going to end up together anyways. If anything, he’s just streamlined the process.” With that, you tightened your grasp on the pillow, swinging it in a deadly arc aimed at her head. Just then, a third voice interrupted your siege.

“Oh, hi Luce, mind if I have a quick word with my wife?” 

Your eyes grew wide as they took in Lockwood’s lanky figure, leaning with ease against the railing at the head of the stairs.

“Too soon, Lockwood,” you grumbled, and for a moment, the suave smirk didn’t reach his eyes. Still, he moved slowly into the room as Lucy made her exit, throwing you a thumbs up as she descended from out of the attic.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to crush your legs beneath the covers, he appeared almost nervous before his hand disappeared into his pocket and rematerialized, holding a small velvet box.

“This is for you.” He smiled to himself, sweet and boyish, as he was in moments like these. Moments with just you two. As you moved to take the box from his grasp, his fingers touched yours, lingering against them for just a second before pulling away.

The box was old. That much was immediately obvious. And the hinges keeping it together were rusty enough to make opening it a bit of an effort, but when the lid lifted, your breath caught in your throat.

“Oh, Lockwood, it’s beautiful.” You sat in awe of the small ring nestled within the box’s velvet folds. It was simple but elegant, with a single gem at its center, and you couldn’t help but reach out to trace the smooth metal of its shank.

“Where did you–”

“It was my mothers.” His voice was vulnerable, barely above a whisper.

“Lockwood, I can’t–”

“It’s fine, really. Besides, it's just for today.” But you could see the stress the simple action caused him from the way he toyed with the wedding band now looped around his own finger.

 “Anyways, I really just came up here to go over the plan.” 

“The plan?” You balked, eyes snapping away from the heirloom in your hands.

“Yes, we need a story, of course. How we fell in love, how we came to be married. You should know our wedding anniversary as well. April 14th, remember that.”

“April 14th? But that’s today.”

“And?”

“I– I haven’t gotten you anything.”

“Well, it's not like this is a real marriage.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m thinking we say I fell in love first, then you. Women love that sort of thing–”

“No, no, we should say we’ve been in love since the moment we met,” you argued, thinking of your own feelings.

“Well, that’s not very realistic.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn– can’t be true.”

“I suppose so.”

“Maybe we should both just think of our own moment. When we fell in love with the other.” Lockwood seemed suddenly to choke on air but quickly coughed his way past it.

“Great idea.”

“We can say you proposed on a bridge overlooking the Thames,” you suggested, but Lockwood only scoffed at the idea.

“Actually, I was thinking we could say it happened on a mission. Maybe you were hurt, and I was afraid I might lose you forever. That when I realized you were alright, I asked you to marry me on the spot. That I didn’t see the point in wasting any more time on anyone else.”

Your mouth grew dry at his suggestion, and the best you could attempt was a meek nod in response.

“Perfect,” he stood quickly, as though brushing off the intimacy of the moment, and began to head for the stairs, “I’ll leave you to finish getting ready then.” By the time you’d managed to grasp your words, he had disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you alone with your thoughts and his mother’s ring. 

You were descending the stairs when the knock came, and you felt your hand move to twist anxiously at the ring newly decorating your finger. At the bottom of the stairs, Lockwood turned his head just in time to meet your gaze, the nervous look plastered across his face softening into one of ease. Probably just for show. You reassured yourself, straightening your shoulders as you reached the final step. Just before opening the door, the boy beside you cast some final words in your direction.

“Remember, I’ll do most of the talking.”

You could only nod in response as the door swung open, revealing the DEPRAC agent. She seemed immediately to be a severe woman with a stern look set deep within her face and eyes that scanned each of you suspiciously before entering the home. 

“Is there somewhere you’d prefer for me to conduct my interview.”

“That would be the library,” answered Lockwood, jumping into action, “(Y/N) love, how about you pop the kettle on and maybe grab some biscuits.” 

“Of course.” You smiled, but it was forced, the only mirth in your soul emerging from the sure knowledge that George would have a field day with Lockwood later on for his failure to follow the ‘Biscuit Rule’.

As he departed for the library, guiding the woman along with him, you could already hear the echos of his charming chatter as they bounced off the walls of the home. Everything will be fine, the words looped in a self-soothing mantra, filling every corner of your head as you prayed to any god that would listen to get through this interview in one piece.

“And when would you say you fell in love with Miss. (L/N)?” The woman made no reaction to her question, simply opting to continue scribbling notes on her pad. Thus far, Lockwood had done a successful job of veering most questions away from you, though it would be a miracle if your nerves had gone unnoticed between the incessant bouncing of your leg and your consumption of three separate cups of tea over the span of thirty minutes.

“In love?” Lockwood stuttered beside you, and you and the woman turned simultaneously to inspect him closer, his confident facade nearly shattered at the mention of the word. Still, he recovered rather quickly, retrieving his easy smile only a second later.

“Yes, well, I assume that came before the marriage.”

“Of course. Let’s see, then.” He stopped for a moment as though pondering the question though the movement of his hand as he toyed with his ring confirmed to you he was just nervous. In an action you could only hope appeared natural, you reached over, stilling his fidgeting fingers by lacing them with your own. Lockwood looked suddenly at you, and the quiet crack in his performance showed itself only to your eyes.

“It was six months after we first met. We’d been researching for a big mission all day, and when we finally got home, I passed out. I woke up; it was probably three in the morning by then. Came down to the kitchen for some water and– and there you were, in the library, fast asleep.” Lockwood had long since stopped looking at the inspector. “You were in my armchair. I’d probably seen you in that armchair a thousand times. And you had a case file spread out over your chest. You looked ridiculous. But I knew immediately something had changed. I could feel it as I carried you up to the attic that night and the next morning while I was sat listening to you laugh at George’s stupid jokes. Like those feelings that were just a bit of a bother before were eating me alive. It’s– It’s how I feel every time I look at you: like I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life and yet perfectly at home at the same time.” He was quick to look away when he finished, flashing the DEPRAC agent with a smile and leaving you frozen in the wake of his words, struck by his ability to manipulate the truth.

“Just one more question then. Ms. (L/N), marriage at sixteen that’s not something you see every day. What made you say yes?”

Lockwood’s eyes flashed quickly to your face, but as he opened his mouth, the woman quieted him with a motion of her hand. 

“Not you, Mr. Lockwood. I’d like to hear from Ms. (L/N).”

This had not been within the parameters of your preparation. Lockwood’s favorite color, how he took his tea, the date of your anniversary? Easy breezy. You might have even been able to fumble your way through how you’d fallen in love with the arrogant bastard, given its basis in the truth. But you weren’t really married, and you’d never really said yes, so where did that leave you? And like a saving a grace, a question made itself known in your head. If Lockwood had really asked you, why would you have said yes?

“I suppose I didn’t quite understand the proposal at first either.” That much was true; for fucks sake, you’d missed the thing entirely. “But after a while, it made sense. I mean, not a day goes by we aren’t risking our lives for our work. There’s no guarantee of any future with a job like this, so why not marry young? Otherwise, we might not marry at all.” The second part came out rushed, the lie forcing its way past your lips. It wasn’t in your character to be impulsive, even if time seemed to be your enemy. Still, you forced yourself to delve deeper. To seek a truthful answer to that lingering question. Your breathing slowed.

“And then, one day, I think I realized that for me, it was always going to be Lockwood. That had he asked me five or ten or even twenty years down the line when we were old and boring, I’d of still said yes. Because– Well, because I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.” 

You turned your head slowly to catch Lockwood’s eyes lingering on your face. His expression was unreadable. Your brow creased in your efforts to learn more from the set of his features, and for a moment, you lost yourself in him. 

The woman’s notebook snapped shut. You felt yourself scramble from the loveseat you’d been sharing with the boy, and he followed close behind.

“That’s all from me. The agency will contact you in a few days to follow up, but as far as I’m concerned, you’ve passed.”

Without giving time for the information to be digested, she stood and left. Turning to face Lockwood, you were quick to pull his mother’s ring from your finger and place it in his palm.

“Well, now that that’s finished–”

“(Y/N)--” 

“I’ll be in the attic–”

“(Y/N).”

“Lots of research, probably.”

“How did you do that.” The look on his face was one of disbelief when you finally met his gaze again.

“What?” You knew what.

“You know what. You can’t lie to save your life. How did you–”

“Really don’t see how this is important, Lockwood–”

“Were you telling the truth?” You were silent for a moment.

“You got us into this. I could’ve– I would’ve stayed silent forever, but you had to come up with another insufferable plot. And I’m sorry, I can’t lie like it’s some sort of second language– That was quite good, by the way, the way you made me feel– made it seem like there was some chance in hell that you loved me back–”

He dragged you in all at once, catching you by the waist and interrupting your scattered thoughts with his lips. Kissing you. Soft at first, but deeper, harder, as you brought your hands up to his neck. As you kissed back. By the time he pulled away, you were breathless.

“It was never– I was never– God if I thought I could lie my way through this, I would’ve asked George or Lucy even. It had to be you because– because it was always real with you. I have loved you ever since I met you. That night in the library only confirmed it.”

“I thought that was unrealistic.”

“Maybe for someone who's never been in love with you.”

“Ask me again if I’ll marry you.”

“Again?” His eyebrows raised at the implication that there had been a first time.

“Just do it, you twat.”

“(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?”

“A million times yes, Anthony Lockwood. A million times, yes.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Does Bruce Wayne's shop girl ever meet Batman 👀

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist | Part Four

Warnings: Cursing; attempted robbery at work; canon-typical violence

“Customer,” You manager warns. You hardly hear it over the rumbling in your stomach. 

“Can you get this one?” You pout. “I haven’t been able to take my break yet and I’m off in, like, an hour.” 

“...Customer,” She repeats unfeelingly before nodding you toward a man standing in front of a display case. You sigh softly, rounding toward them. You rarely get put on the evening shift, but whenever you do, it’s hell. You want the waiting customer to be Bruce, sure, but you don’t think that you could get that lucky twice. The thought of Bruce makes your chest flutter, and a small smile pulls at your lips. 

You’ve seen him nearly every day for the past two weeks. He’s taken you to dinner at Taco Bell, McDonald’s, back to Chef du Roi (the two of you actually made it through the meal there—and it was pretty damn good), and to a handful of other restaurants. You’ve ended nearly every evening with a walk, some nice conversation, and a kiss or two (or a few) at your door. You’ve always wanted to invite him up, but Michelle is usually there—and you always forget to ask her to clear out or make herself scarce for a couple of hours. You get so caught up in Bruce when you’re with him. 

“May I help you find something, sir?” 

“Yes…” The man’s voice is tight and high, like he’s speaking through his nose. He turns before you can ask him to elaborate, and your gut swoops low with panic and shock as he turns to face you, the barrel of a gun pointed directly at your gut. “Your safe, if you would be so kind—Don’t scream,” He warns, brows raising. “Anyone notices us going there, just tell them I’m an inspector for the security company. Any sudden moves, any funny business, you get a gut full’a lead. Nod if you understand me.” 

You nod slowly, almost on instinct. Your palms are sweaty; your heart is thudding roughly in your chest; your throat is dry, and feels as if it’s tightening by the minute. Your mind is racing, considering your exits, your outcomes. You don’t want anyone else in the store hurt—but if you try and raise the alarm, you’ll be shot—and you are so not willing to die for or at this job. 

“Alright,” The man nods. “Say yes sir, and let’s be on our way.” 

“Yes sir,” You parrot quietly. You take a step back, then whirl around, whacking and knocking a small mirror off of the counter. 

“You stupid bitch—Pick it up,” The man hisses. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” You scurry around the counter, scrabbling for the mirror. As you straighten, you nudge the silent alarm with your knuckle. You set the mirror on the counter, holding up your shaking, apologetic hands before gesturing him down the hall. “Please, follow me.” 

You make it a point not to make eye contact with your manager—hell, you don’t look at anyone. You don’t dare. You’re afraid your fear will read too clearly on your face, and you don’t want to raise anyone’s hackles. You still don’t think if the way you nudged the button will even draw a response team; you don’t know what the man will do once the team of responders makes it—if they make it. You’ll have one more chance at the safe, at least. 

You lead the way into the hallway, taking slow, measured steps. You reach the office, pushing the door open and leading the way to the safe. You glance back, your panic welling as the man shuts and locks the door behind you. You crouch down slowly, pulling the door to the safe open. You bite your lip, fingers hovering over the buttons. 

“Go on.” 

You can’t. You can’t—Christ, what’s the duress code? You hurriedly jab the first numbers that come to mind—9-1-1-9. The safe beeps three times, the small display light flashing yellow. 

“Open it!” The man demands. You gasp, drawing in a wince as he presses the muzzle of the gun to your temple. You squeeze your eyes shut, gasping your apology out and hurriedly putting in the right code. The safe beeps once, light flashing green. You scurry out of the way as the man gives your head a shove. You push yourself into the very corner of the office, cowering as he rakes cash and repaired jewelry into his bag. You draw in steady, even breaths, swallowing thickly. If you can keep breathing, you’ll make it through this. You’ll be home in no time—you’ll be telling Michelle about the crazy day you had at work—

You go still as you hear someone pounding on the door. You think it must be your manager, but—

“Open up! This is the police!” 

You glance nervously between the robber and the door. Damn, you wish they hadn’t said that; why couldn’t they just have busted the fucking door down?

“What the fuck did you do?” 

Ice trickles through your veins as the man stands slowly; cash is sticking out of his pockets, out of his bag; he’s raising his gun to point at you. 

“What the fuck did you do?”  He repeats in a yell. 

“N-nothing, nothing, I didn’t do anything—” You babble desperately, holding your hands up in front of your face. You can’t look anywhere else but at the man, and his gun—and oh, god, you’re going to die in the back office of a job that you hate—

You hear a crash!, and you scream, raising your hands to cover your face. You expect searing pain, but you feel nothing but the rush of wind. You shouldn’t be able to feel anything of the sort—the window is shut. Then, you hear the desk being shoved aside, and the grunts and groans of the robber. Opening your eyes and peering through your fingers, your view is briefly shrouded in black. You watch, stunned, as the cape of the Batman sways and bobs with his movements. You back up even more, pressing yourself against the wall as the caped crusader turns to face you. 

Your gaze nervously sweeps his stormy expression—the darkness around his eyes, and the stern set to his jaw. Before you can say or do a thing—before you can thank him—he turns, breaking through the window. You jump up, stumbling over the unconscious robber, and leaning out of the window to catch sight of him. You can’t, though—he’s gone already. You peer into the night regardless, even as the cops bust into the room and demand the unconscious robber put the gun down. 

--  

You jump slightly at the sound of the knock on your bedroom door. 

“Are you awake?” Michelle’s voice is muffled. You’re tempted to stay quiet. You already told her that you don’t really want to talk about what happened, that you’re just not ready. Filing the report with the police had been hell; having a microphone shoved into your face as by Gotham News as you'd tried to go home had been worse. You’ve just gotten off of the phone with your parents, and the conversation had been less than ideal. You’ve been planning on crying yourself to sleep. 

“Your friend is here,” Michelle tacks on. You frown. Your friend? What friend? You don’t know who it could possibly—

“The rich one?” Michelle adds. 

Oh—No—

“Hang on,” You hurry to call back. You stand, looking around your bedroom. Shit. Shit. Bruce Wayne is here, now? You haven’t had time to prep—to clean, to put on something cute, nothing of the sort. Oh, hell. What’s he doing here? Why didn’t he just call or text? This is the one time you don’t want to see him in person. 

You hurry over to your mirror, peering into it. Crap. You swipe the tears from your cheeks, blinking hurriedly. God, you look like a damn mess. You neaten your hair, smooth your hands over your heated cheeks. 

“Just a sec,” You call back again before you run over to the chair in the corner of your room. You sweep all of the clothing there into your arms and turn away, shoving it into the closet. You push that door shut before you hurry over to the door. You hurriedly flip on the switch for the string lights hung around your room, then shut off the overhead light. Maybe this’ll make how tired you look seem a little more romantic. You draw in a deep breath before you open the door. 

Bruce is leaning in your doorframe, gaze set downward. As you pull the door open, he glances up at you, a smile on his lips. 

“That was more than a sec,” He teases. You laugh nervously. 

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” You take a step back, nodding Bruce inside. “I wasn’t expecting you over, that’s all.” 

“I was in the neighborhood, figured I’d stop by,” He says, beginning to stroll around your bedroom.

“You were in this neighborhood?” You scoff, unable to help it. “Why?” 

“Just needed to get out.” 

“Made Alfred drive you?” 

He smiles a touch. “No. I’ll have you know that he has the night off.” 

“Lucky Alfred.” 

“...Also, I, uh…” Bruce seems to lean in, peering at your bookshelf. “I saw something on the news.” 

“Oh? Fireman help a kitten out of a tree?” 

“...That,” He turns to face you, “And the robbery at the store.” 

“Attempted robbery,” You correct in a mutter. 

“Right, the uh…Batman.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you okay?” 

You should say yes. You should tell Bruce that you’re totally fine, and ask him to take you to Chipotle. You’re actually still quite hungry—but hey, almost being shot will work up an appetite, right? You should keep your answer light. 

But the events of the day are still in your mind; your conversation with your mom, with her urging you to come to Metropolis, and to leave the only home you’ve ever known, is still running through your ears. 

You open your mouth to answer him, but no words come out. You hear yourself loose a small, broken little sob. You raise your hand to cover your mouth, embarrassment bubbling up as you curl your arm around your middle, taking a step back. Before you can apologize, Bruce crosses the room, drawing you into his chest. You lean into him heavily, hiding your face in his shoulder. You shudder with sobs, fingers curling in the fabric of his sweater. Bruce doesn’t tut or tell you that it’s alright, or that there’s no reason for you to cry. He just rests a hand on the back of your neck, thumb sweeping comfortingly along your nape. 

--  

“...You better not be going into work tomorrow.” 

The warning is murmured against your temple. You smile and sniffle, shifting just a little where you’re curled up against his chest. The two of you have been laying on your bed for nearly an hour now. Neither of you have spoken much. He’s simply let you cry it out. He hasn’t even grappled with the fact that your tears have left a damp patch on his sweater. 

“I have to. I’ve got opening shift.” 

“Don’t go.” 

“I have to.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

You don’t gripe with him, though it would be easy to. You don’t tell him that rent is due soon; you don’t tell him that January commissions on discounted stock can be pretty damn good, and that you’re trying to save up to go see your parents in Metropolis. You just look down at where he’s holding your hand. 

“It’s better if I go in right away. If I let fear keep me out of there, I won’t ever go back.” 

Bruce doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just brushes his lips against your forehead, his thumb sweeping the side of your hand. 

“Tell you what,” He murmurs, “You’re braver than I am.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. I’m saying it.” 

You chuckle softly, tipping your head back to look at him. 

“Thank you for coming over.” 

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” Bruce murmurs, stroking his knuckles along your cheek. 

“Careful, Mr. Wayne. I’ll start to think you have a soft spot for me.” 

“Hardly the worst perception people have had of me.”

“How do you think the Gazette would take it if I told them that you can be quite sweet when you want to be?” 

“Don’t you dare. You’d ruin my public image.” 

Part Four

[strawberrystepmom]

safety first

pairing: fake osha inspector!jiraiya x restaurant manager f!reader

word count: 2.2k

about: when an inspector unexpectedly comes to your restaurant, you figure out how to get yourself out of trouble.

contents: NSFW - MDNI. reader is referred to with feminine terms and has breasts and a vagina. piv sex, unprotected sex, partially clothed sex, walk in freezer sex, dirty talk, dubcon (just to be safe bc she is fucking him to get out of “trouble” lmao)

notes: this is a repost from my old blog. for my non americans: osha stands for occupational safety and health administration. they come and make sure businesses are meeting safety standards for their employees.

my meager contribution to @bastardblvd's collab. i love this old man and would love for him to stir me up with that hug- *gunshot* okay love you thanks for reading stay sexy!!!!

divider is thanks to @/cafekitsune

“Uh, we have a problem."

You wish the mere sound of that word, problem, didn’t make your skin crawl but between shifts while you prepare for what will almost definitely be a busy Friday night dinner service, it’s the last thing you want to hear. The word is even more unpleasant to hear from your very anxious looking hostess who should be manning her station at the front of your restaurant.

Turning to look at her, you quirk a brow and she visibly shrinks as she approaches you.

“OSHA is here,” she mutters barely louder than a whisper. You blink. Once, twice. Your lips twist into a concerned frown, a crease forming between your brow as you look at her. 

“Excuse me?”

OSHA is here…right now. In your restaurant. Looking for violations of safety rules right before a busy dinner service. Your mind quickly runs through various scenarios that could have prompted the visit - did someone file a complaint? Was there an injury? Panic rises and you instinctively look down at your feet to make sure you wore your non-slip shoes today, a large shadow entering your periphery from behind the young woman standing in front of you.

“Are you the manager of this establishment?” 

The voice of the unfamiliar man booms and you look up, eyes widening as you take him in. He’s big - significantly larger than any man you’ve ever seen and his visage isn’t one you’d usually assign to the inspectors that have come in the past. The sight of him is intimidating enough and then your eye travels to the ID tag clipped on his belt loop, the glint of the plastic protector making you gulp. 

“Yeah, I am,” you nod and swallow again, straightening your posture as you feel him look over you and zero in on your shoes. A breath sticks in your lungs as he flicks his eyes back up toward your face and thrusts his hand in your direction to shake. “Great, my name’s Jiraiya and I’ll be inspecting the premises for any violations today.”

Nervously, your hostess shifts where she stands and you nod your head to give her silent permission to leave. She casts you a glance before scurrying away, leaving you alone with the man in front of you. Thoughts run through your head of how you can best distract him, uncertain of how the condition of your own kitchen stands at this point in time. 

“Can I ask what prompted your visit?” 

Jiraiya looks down at you and you meet his curious glance with a flat stare of your own, mouth in a line. In a futile attempt to seem more intimidating, you fold your arms over your chest and you make a note of the way the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk while he watches you. He hums, folding his arms over his own broad chest.

“Well,” he starts, voice deep and rich. “We don’t have to notify you prior to arriving and here I am.” 

Your mouth rises in a tight smile and you nod once, tipping your head and blinking at him indignantly.

"On what basis are you here?" He shrugs, arms staying in place over his chest. Nothing about this situation seems normal but you suppose it could be his first day on the job or maybe you missed something - this is the start of the busiest time of year and you hardly have time to keep track of the most important things much less minor safety issues.

"I just go where they tell me, ma'am."

Another nod, another curt smile and you unfold your arms and slap your hands against your thighs.

"Well, tell me what you need to see and I'll show you there." Jiraiya turns his back and you roll your eyes, his voice very audible over the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. “To the kitchen then!”

You watch as your staff stiffens at the sight of him, everyone looking down at their shoes in the same fashion you did to ensure OSHA safety standards are being met in the footwear department. His purpose in being here certainly isn’t about shoes, you feel and you follow him silently into the kitchen and back toward the stock room. 

Watching as he inspects every shelf, pulling our cans and searching behind them, you begin to grow impatient. He still hasn’t given you his reason for being here and it feels as if he’s wasting time getting to the point. Just as you decide to speak up, he clears his throat and tips his head in the direction of the freezers. 

“Haveta’ check in there next.”

A defeated sigh escapes you and you unceremoniously fan a hand in the direction of the heavy doors that separate the walk in from the rest of the kitchen. He looks behind him to make sure you’re following and he opens the door with a grin, pretending to shiver. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Tough crowd.” 

His words are aimed at no one in particular but you follow him into the small space and watch as he does the same inspection of each shelf he performed in the store room. The scrape of heavy boxes against metal shelves makes you shiver and he tosses an apologetic frown in your direction. 

“Sorry about all this.” For a moment you soften toward the large man, your eyes dancing across his broad frame. A thought flickers in your mind, the small flame of a potentially bad idea, but you try your luck and walk into the freezer alongside him and shut the door behind you. The proximity forces your shoulder to brush against his bicep and he glances down at you with a knowing smile.

“What can I do to pass this little inspection?”

The words drip from your mouth like sweet honey and Jiraiya smirks, chuckling before wrapping a hand around your hip and pulling you to his side. Heat rushes to your face as you look up at him, standing literal head and shoulders above you, and you feel embarrassed at the way you squirm and press your thighs together.

“We can make all of this go away real quick if you wanna.”

Breathlessly, you let him press the front of you against the cold shelves of the freezer.  The boxes and bags that line the shelves rattle with the force and you moan as he leans against your ass, his bulge resting on your lower back. His breath against the shell of your ear and the heat of your own weeping cunt are the warmest things in the freezer.

Jiraiya cups your clothed breast, big hands palming you hungrily as he rubs his clothed clock against your lower back and moves his hands just enough that he can manipulate your body enough that your back is arched. Sliding one hand from your breast to your chin, he cups it and forces you to look up at him. 

“Smile, sweetheart.” He pants the words through gritted teeth, a soft moan escaping you as you notice the determined look on his eyes. “I’m about to take real good care of you.”

All you can do is nod as you stare up at him, the hand not gripping your face reaching for the waistband of your black slacks and pulling them down in one motion, the fabric bunching halfway down your thighs. Looking down at the curve of your ass pressed against him, he hisses and chuckles lowly. A hand caresses one of your plush cheeks before giving it a little smack, the jiggle making him rub against you once more simply to feel relief. 

“No panties?” He remarks, his large hand sliding across your cheeks again to pull them apart with his thumb and index finger. Whistling lowly, he lets go of your face and you continue looking up at him, entranced by the sight of this older man inspecting your body. “What kind of luck am I having today?”

The hand makes its way between your thighs and you feel his index finger find your slit, the digit running through your soaked and silky folds. This time it’s you pressing against him and spreading your feet just a bit wider to give him more access to you. Never one to miss out on the feel of a sweet leaking cunt beneath his fingers, he swirls the tip around your clit before sliding down further and inserting just the tip inside of you. 

“You like that?” 

You nod, humming affirmatively as he slides his finger through your folds again. Another arrogant smirk crosses his features as he buries his finger to the knuckle without warning you, the slick heat of you sucking him in with little resistance despite how thick his fingers are. He works one finger in and out of you briefly before adding a second, the stretch of two of them so delicious your eyes roll back in your head. 

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and you feel a hand slide toward your lower belly so he can press you against him until there is no space left between your bodies. The deep pants coming from him make you squirm and he moves his hand again with the unspoken expectation that you keep your position exactly as it is. You do and your reward comes in the form of small, dizzying circles being rubbed around your clit with his fingers. 

“Jiraiya…” the high pitched whine leaving your mouth would embarrass you in any other situation but your mind is numb with the cold of the freezer. He continues to rub diligent circles that are driving you crazy and you finally cum with a moan, clenching around his fingers so hard he has to keep them inside of you until you have relaxed enough to let him go. He pulls his fingers from you and places them in front of your face, your tongue darting out of your mouth immediately to suck them clean.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest as you hear the unfastening of a belt from behind you, the jingle of the buckle sending a rush of heat to your still spasming cunt. The cloth covered bulge slowly reveals itself against your back and you gasp feeling the girth. He backs away from you slightly, pushing between your shoulder blades so that you are bent at the waist and you look down to see him tapping the fat head of his very impressively sized cock against your sticky folds.

"Look at you," he coos and you arch your back further. He responds by slipping his head inside of you, a gasp all you can manage as you stretch around just the tip. This man is more than you've ever taken in your life and he can tell by the way your thighs visibly shake. His hands find your hips and anchor you in place as a slow, deep, experimental thrust quickly becomes one deep, hard thrust that makes a clap sound through the entire freezer.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant as you look over his shouder. His long hair flies around his shoulders wildly and his jaw is tense, eyes focused on where your bodies are joined. The sounds coming from your messy pussy are obscene but neither of you seem to mind as his thrusts begin coming harder and harder.

Time is of the essence when you're fucking in a walk in freezer, after all, and he doesn't want to waste any.

If you weren't being so thoroughly fucked, you'd worry they can hear what's happening inside the freezer on the outside. You are simply too engrossed in the way every vein of his cock rubs against your walls to even care. Your jaw slackens as he slaps your ass again and he taunts you from above, on the edge of stuffing you full.

"You fit me so well sweet thing," he grunts, tipping his head back as he holds your hips in place and thrusts shallowly. He brushes against your walls just right and you squeal, head thrown back and face toward the ceiling as you clench and cream around his cock.

Panting, he thrusts one more time and stays nestled deeply inside of you to cum. You didn't ask him not to and you aren't complaining now, struggling to catch your breath in the cold freezer.

Realizing what you've done, you scramble to get away from him with widened eyes, his cum dripping out of you and into the seat of your slacks as you pull them back up over your thighs. He smirks at the sight, your sweet, soft skin marked with a red palm print.

"Are we good?" You ask, still panting and he nods, wrapping his fist around his cock and squeezing it once before wiping his hand on his shirt and pulling his pants back up. Despite the situation, you smile up at him and your gaze is softer than it has been during the entire interaction. He clicks his tongue and situates his belt buckle square above the button of his pants.

"Everything checks out here," his voice booms as you reach for the door to open it, two of your servers standing across from the freezer looking pale and concerned.

"Hi guys, he's just leaving." They nod and one of them reaches out, grabbing your shoulder and leaning toward you.

"Hey, OSHA's here..." they start and you furrow your brow, looking at the man departing through the busy kitchen. "Yeah, he's right there."

You point at Jiraiya and your server shakes their head, passing a paper in your direction listing the complaint of cleaning products being stored incorrectly. Peeking around the server, you gasp at the sight of a man in a safety vest standing at the kitchen door while Jiraiya is nowhere to be found.

"God damn it."

You grab the paper and fight the urge to crumple it in your fist, shaking as you head toward the kitchen door. The man standing at the door eyes you cautiously and you look around his shoulder to see if you can still see the man whose cum is currently dripping out of you.

"Uh, hey. I'm Asuma and I'm here to perform an inspection as a result of a complaint."

You nod, a tight smile on your face as you move out of the way and allow him into the kitchen.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 6: Accomplice

All confidence and security I’ve accumulated is depleted. The Shelbys have helped keep me safe from the unpredictable world outside, and as the cop pushes me through the ash-filled streets I’m reminded of just how vulnerable I really am. Yet I still keep my head held high and mask my fear with stern eyes. I’m led to what must be the police station and down the hall to a small waiting room with a single desk. The cop shuts the door, closing off what little light there is. 

“I demand to know what’s going on!” I shout at the door. “I will not be imprisoned without official charges! If there is no official complaint then I shall inform the authorities in America!”

“No need for that, Ms. Steenstra,” a familiar voice speaks from the shadows. Campbell steps forward smoking a pipe and I see he’s holding a file.

I tighten my jaw and refrain from yelling again. My state of mind is much more fierce compared to our last encounter. “Hello again, Inspector Campbell.”

He slides the file onto the desk and sits down. “Last time I saw you, you were trying to get home. Scared of Small Heath and all its glory.” He points a finger at me. “I told you to stay away from the Peaky Blinders. Now I’m told you’re working for them.”

Keep calm, Steenstra. Remember what Polly told you.

“I’m a tutor, nothing more,” I say firmly. “I know nothing about their real business so if that’s why you brought me here then you’re wasting your time.” I turn away and face the door.

“If you’re interested, we could set you up for an inside job,” Campbell offers.

Did I hear that right? “You mean… spy? On the Shelbys?” I ask.

“Yes. And if there is any odd behavior then you can report it to me.”

Thomas was right. This man is out to get the entire Shelby family. I can’t be an asset to his cause. Not only because of my feelings for the Shelbys, but also for the loyalty of my employment.

I turn around and stare the inspector straight in the eye. “Maybe it’s done differently in England, but in America we are loyal to our employers. The answer is no, Inspector.”

The man takes a puff on his pipe. “What if certain arrangements were made? You still wish to return to your country, yes?”

The thought of going home is a spark of hope in my chest. But I can’t cave into this.

“Correct.”

Campbell shrugs. “Well, if you decide to join our cause we could arrange for a plane ticket, as well as better lodgings here for you.”

Just as I thought. “If you’re trying to bribe me, it won’t work. I’m sorry Inspector, but I cannot be bought.”

I grab the door knob and find it’s unlocked, no doubt because they don’t see me as a threat. Yet. Just as I start walking back to the front door I hear Campbell call out:

“Be careful, miss. Never know when the wolf will step out of its sheep's clothing.”

But in this scenario, who’s the wolf? I have no desire to be connected to this intricate web of lies and deception. I am in good relations with both the law and the Shelbys, and want to keep it that way.

I make haste to get back to the Shelby house. All previous angry thoughts are long gone and I don’t care if Thomas is still mad at me. Once I close the door I take a deep breath and take in the familiar kitchen. Calm down, you kept quiet. Just stay here and ride out the storm until you can go home.

My invisible mask falters and my eyes start to tear up. In a quick panic I grab a damp cold cloth and head to the living room to sit on the small couch. God, how did I get caught into this? All because I was an idiot and got myself lost!

“Ah, you’re back.”

No. No. Of all the Shelbys to walk in, why does it have to be him?

“Hello, Thomas.” I keep my head lowered and hastily try to block away more tears. “I’d like to apologize again for earlier. My mind hasn’t been very clear these past few days.”

Fate must have a sick sense of humor because Thomas decides to sit next to me. His weight pushes the cushions down further and has me leaning slightly towards him.

“Nobody apologizes to me unless they’ve done something else against me,” Thomas speaks in a dangerously calm voice. “What did you do after you left?”

Fighting my screaming nerves I lift my head up to face his cold eyes. “I was headed to the chapel when one of Campbell’s officers temporarily apprehended me. I was brought to Campbell’s office, where he questioned me.”

Thomas’ eyes flash. “He what?” Thomas grabs my neck, drags me over and pins me against the wall to shout in my face. “Well? What did you tell him? What did you say?!”

I try to choke out a response. “I- I didn’t say anything, Thomas!”

“Why? We never bought you over!” He releases my throat and I gasp for air. “We don’t own you-”

“You don’t have to, Thomas!” I seethe. “I didn’t say anything because A, I honestly don’t know much about the guns. And B, it would be betraying you.”

Thomas doesn’t budge but his eyes soften a fraction. Why must every encounter with him end so violently and not as romantic? I- No. Don’t flatter yourself, Steenstra. There are far more important issues at the moment!

“Really?” Thomas’ voice is calmer, yet still suspicious.

I take a deep breath and put both hands on his chest. “You may not think you’ve bought me, but I still owe a debt to the Shelby family. You took me in. You gave me a job and a roof over my head. If that’s not buying me over, I don’t know what else there is.”

Slowly, Thomas’ hands snake up to grab mine. His breathing has calmed down. He must believe me.

“No one’s this nice, Ms. Steenstra,” he whispers. “You’re not like any other person I’ve met. If you really are this loyal it would be a shame to see you go home.”

I sigh in relief. “So I’m not fired?”

He chuckles. “You always fret about being fired.”

“It’s my first job,” I reply sheepishly. “I’d hate to lose it in such a short time. Plus I really don’t want being fired by the Shelby family to be on my short résumé.”

“You’re fired?!”

We both look over to where Finn is standing, having just entered from the hallway. He’s holding another one of my books, no doubt having finished it already.

“No, Finn. She’s not fired.” Thomas gives me a smirk. “I don’t think she’ll be leaving for quite a while.”

My face falls. “Are you saying you’re going to keep me here against my will, Mr. Shelby?”

He quirks a brow. “You said you owe a debt to us, yes? How’d you like to have your Birmingham experience lengthened?”

I frown. “Meaning…?”

“That you are to stick around until you’ve earned a ticket home and we feel you’ve worked off your debt,” Thomas replies coolly and leans in closer. “Deal?”

A week ago I would have declined on the spot, but the few days I’ve spent here have snatched my interest. Maybe a while longer in Birmingham wouldn’t be so bad?

I smile. “Deal. My only request is that I’m escorted around town in order to not be snagged by Campbell again.”

Thomas tips his hat. “Your wish shall be granted, Verena Nora Steenstra. Welcome to being an accomplice to the Peaky Blinders.”

Accomplice. The word brings a whole new meaning to my job. I’m no longer a simple tutor. I’m part of something much bigger now. It scares me a little, but it’s also rather exciting.

“Yes!” Finn celebrates. “Can we do another lesson now?”

Aw, Hell. I can’t say no to this! My family’s not perfect and neither am I. I was always going to do something drastic someday, and if this is it then I’d love nothing more!

Thomas walks off to the kitchen and leaves me with his brother. You are one peculiar individual, Thomas Shelby.

I smile. “Yes, Finn. Let’s get started!”

[know-the-way]

The stages so far of me binging the entirety of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (spoilers if you haven’t watched it before):

1. “Yeah, the 1920s hasn’t ever really been your preferred vibe, but so many of your friends like this show, and you love ‘Clue’ which seems similar, so just bite the bullet and go.”

2. “Wait, they’re Australian? What? Did I know this before and forgot?”

3. “Ohhhh right, Miranda Otto was in this! I did know that. And she’s a cocaine lord?! Nice. Don’t get to see her in many villain roles.”

4. *first scene with Phryne & Jack* “Oh, he has a very nice deep voice, okay I see I see mmmhm okay. … Why is so he so sulky, though? Big ‘who hurt you’ vibes. Intriiiiigue… “

5. “OH dEaR oh mY, there is banter and cheeky looks, this is bad, coDE RED, pretty sure this is your LAST chance to exit before this becomes a #problem.”

6. *does not exit* *becomes a #problem*

7. “Oh, so she’s gonna be banging lots of men with no emotional attachment (when there is clearly some tragic past hiding under the surface as to why that might be)? So an emotionally damaged woman who copes with her traumas by deflecting said emotions through sex and other various reckless behaviors? Babe… *cups face gently* babe, babe, babe. You’ve made this beyond a problem now. Because every little glimpse of vulnerability among your extremely out-of-hand savior complex is gonna make me fall in love with you more and more… just like the tall, broody inspector man over there (who still has a very nice voice and sad, kind eyes and who you seem to be afraid of being smitten with for ~*some reason*~). Anyway, Jack and I, we’re both fucked.”

8. Wdym they both have traumas from the war & from past relationships, that they both witnessed an unimaginable amount of loss, and that both are broken so deeply that they built fortresses of ice around their hearts to protect themselves AND YET BOTH OF THEM THAW JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE WITH THEIR EVERY INTERACTION? Fuck OFF! This is not FAIR!

9. “Miss Fisher was actually on her way home.” He said that with a fully clenched jaw and a step forward. Fuuuuccckk, there’s gonna be smoldering jealousy, too? Just slap me in the face, the amount of longing I’m about to witness… Jack, it’s okay buddy, we’re in this together. There’s something special about you and she’s gonna figure it out… after what appears to be several seasons and perhaps a feature film. But she’ll figure it out! Stay strong, soldier! I’m rooting for you!

10. “Oh God, her little sister was murdered. As someone who loves my own sister dearly, that’s fucking awful, this is hurting me deeply, and I really do not like it. 🥺 … AND THE MURDERER IS DUE TO BE RELEASED? AbSoLUTELY not! … WDYM THERE’S ALSO AN ABUSIVE EX?! And he’s come back to MURDER HER over a naked painting of her younger self like a fucking CREEP?!*”

(*not a correct summarization of what happened, but not not correct)

Anyway, I found the tragic past!

11. “Abusive ex is played by Peter O’Brien? With a ‘French’ accent? *snort* I mean, okay, it’s a choice. Anyway… what a douche… moving on… “

12. Aw, they kissed! *claps* And so soon! I mean, it was under horrible circumstances, but it happened… and with lingering looks to boot? You know what, I’ll take it. ‘Cause, I mean, look at them… and like let’s not talk about the juxtaposition of Phryne’s panic over seeing someone who once hurt her being redirected by a kiss from someone who would never hurt her… and Jack subsequently lunging for an armed René to stop him from taking Phryne… we’ll just ignore that for now

13. Felt the “I am not afraid of you” in my bones. Good shit.

14. “You kissed me. … You kissed me back!” Children, please. This is a Wendy’s.

This is as far as I’ve gotten, but omg what a fun ride so far. Friends who tried to recommend this to me for YEARS, I am SO sorry I slept on it. I understand now and your taste is impeccable. *muah*

[fancyfeathers]

I feel like James definitely wants to see his grandbabies and his daughters and will do so no matter what he has to do.

(I am assuming you are talking about William with this)

But yes, he would want to see them, and also post time skip he would fall around 39-43 because it was not uncommon in the Victorian Era to have children young, just because I do not think I put that on the timeline and I have not decided when his darling had Eloise and she is 19-20 post time skip. I just don’t think I have posted that before so just doing it now.

Madeline would be the one to easily find, attending university classes early or already graduated and teaching physics classes at an all girls school, most likely as an assistant teacher since she is only 17-18. She has no social standing like her sister and cousins have, she left that all behind, only having a teaching job and a small cottage in the countryside. It would only be a matter of time before one say she is sitting at her desk in her bedroom, grading papers in the evening, and she hears a knock on the front door and she goes to answer it and she is just standing there but stunned and scared when she sees her father. Madeline had always been the mentally weaker of the two, more prone to manipulation, and it would likely be possible for William to convince her to at least talk to him and perhaps come back home to see her mother, uncles and their darlings, her aunts, but chances are if she agrees to go she will not leave again.

Eloise on the other hand, has her walls, has power and titles, her husband is a powerful man, being a Duke and working with Andrei to stop out any underground crime activity to prevent any mass crime outbreak from happening again. But then due to Eloise’s own career as a detective she is often out and her children are left with a governess. He could easily encounter her eldest child, an adopted girl she saved during one of her cases, while she is out at the store with her governess. She will be at the flower market at Vauxhall and the wind will blow off her hat for it only to be picked up by a stranger with bling hair and the same red eyes her adoptive mother has, he will smile and hand it back to her and adjust her hair when she puts it back on. Soon enough her governess will call for her and she has to say farewell to William before running off, but say if her governess lost her while she ran off to catch her hat, well then lucky she has someone kind who is willing to help her find her way home…

When Eloise’s eldest child goes missing, she immediately begins to panic and looks for her, dropping all of her cases and spending all day and almost all night looking for her. Her husband does the same, using his higher up connections to see what strings he can pull to look for her. Eloise will return home one day, nearly passed out from exhaustion, her husband is at a meeting with an inspector at Scotland Yard who is helping look for their daughter and the staff is asleep for the night. Eloise goes to check on her twin infants, of which she had in a cryptic pregnancy which scared her half to death when she thought of all the things she did during said pregnancy that one should not do during a pregnancy, when she goes up to the nursery she notices the door is slightly ajar and when she opens it fully.

“She looks like you when you were this small.”

She nearly screams when she sees her father sitting in the armchair while cradling her sleeping baby girl while her son lay in his cradle. When she gasps at the sight of her father he merely holds his finger to his lips and reminds her to be quiet since the babies are sleeping.

[indecentpause]

Find the Word Tag

tagged by @late-to-the-fandom to find four of the following: moon, noon, soon, spoon, trick, refuse, cruel, energy, draw, velvet, inspiration, side, scatter, listen, study.

I'm just going to go through The Most Beautiful Puzzle and see what I have!

tagging @willtheweaver @bluberimufim @the-angriest-author @tildeathiwillwrite @drippingmoon @revenantlore to find the words fear, faith, fail, and fight! :3

cw: home break-in, active crime scene, panic attack, ableism

moon

soon:

The Inspector leans closer to examine the spot on the screen. “Thank you,” he says. “After she leaves, nobody else arrives or leaves all night. I knew there must be a cut in the footage, I just couldn’t find where.” “So whoever did this had access to the camera footage before you got it, is what you’re saying?” you ask. “Yes,” the two say in unison. The Inspector stands back and Josselin leans in closer. He isolates the spot and zooms in, but the video is so grainy, it’s hard to tell what you’re looking at. “I want interviews with everyone who was on the field or in either of the locker rooms that day,” Josselin says. "Get any footage from the lockers and fields that day, too. From the full previous and following twenty-four hours. As soon as possible.” The Inspector is already across the room on an office phone, speaking softly to someone on the other end.

spoon:

The power is still out the next morning. Shit. Hopefully your food will be okay. At least there’s no meat. The dairy is probably going to be pretty iffy, though, and your ice cream is definitely going to be melted. You peek in your freezer. It’s barely cold. But you take out your cookies and cream ice cream anyway to have ice cream soup for breakfast. You drink it straight from the container. No point in dirtying a perfectly good bowl and spoon, especially since Josselin isn’t going to eat any of it anyway.

trick:

The floor drops from under you and your head whirls. You’re going to vomit. You’re going to cry. You’re going to hope against hope against hope they listen to the Inspector and keep him locked up. But he’s so charming, and wealthy, and manipulative, and he always gets everyone to turn against you and do everything he wants. You want to hope, but you’re so, so afraid to. Josselin turns toward you when you don’t respond and says, “We’ll take care of it.” You’d almost forgotten he’s basically a mind reader. He hasn’t done any of his investigative parlor tricks in the past few days because he hasn’t needed to. But he’s been paying attention, and he understands everything, because he continues, “We’re not going to let him manipulate his way out of this one. Okay? Breaking and entering at the same location twice in forty-eight hours? They’ll keep him locked up this time.”

refuse

cruel:

You lean against the wall, your weight on your good foot. The cane helps a lot. It’s much less clunky than the crutch, and way easier to get up the stairs with. You’re a little afraid to be alone with it, in case someone says something cruel. You’re only in your mid-twenties, and you’ve heard the shitty things people say about those who need mobility devices when they’re young. Some of your old coworkers said those shitty things themselves. Maybe it’s better you’re not a paramedic anymore. Not just for safety reasons.

energy:

After you and the Inspector share some coffee and Josselin finishes his energy drink, the Inspector goes back to his office to handle some paperwork. Pascal doesn’t come down. When you mention it to Josselin, he says, “Pascal needs to get as much sleep as he can. He needs at least ten solid hours to function properly, and once you add in his workday, there’s not much left. I’m just glad he isn’t working at the hangar anymore.” “Hangar?” “He used to repair airplanes. To put himself through college as best he could.”

draw:

Josselin nods, then pauses. “Grab her a cup of water,” he says. “She looks like she needs it.” So you draw a cup of cold water from the cooler and hand it over. Josselin doesn’t take it. “You’re coming in with me.” Your brow furrows. “What?" “You know more about drug symptoms than me. You were a paramedic for years. You’ve seen it in the field, right?” “Well… yes. But I don’t see how—“ “Just follow my lead,” Josselin says, and he steps inside.

velvet

inspiration

side:

“Inspector Montague,” [Josselin] says. You nod in acknowledgement behind him. You readjust yourself around the crutch to make it more comfortable. “We just finished a round of questions with our first potential witness.” The Inspector sighs and drags his hand down the side of his face, catching slightly on the ear loop of his mask. “Nothing?” Josselin says hesitantly. “They don’t keep security guards at the cameras overnight,” the Inspector answers. “Just until 5:00 pm. Whoever doctored the footage must have taken it then.” “Are there backups anywhere?” “Stolen.”

scatter:

[Josselin] hesitates, then picks up his phone and pokes at it a a bit. For a moment, he’s still, then his eyes close and he inhales, sharp and shaky, through his teeth. “What?” He hands you the phone. It’s the living room camera. The furniture has been upturned. Books are scattered over the floor like dead birds. The violin has been knocked over, but it doesn’t look like the case was opened, so maybe, it’s still safe. The cats have been left alone. Oh, god. Oh, Jesus. You pinch the bridge of your nose and hand the phone back to Josselin. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice hitches and breaks. You don’t even want to see what Josselin’s bedroom looks like. “This is—“ “It’s not your fault,” the Inspector says.

listen:

Just as you’re about to go upstairs, [Josselin's] phone rings. You take the first step, but then he says, “Wait a second.” You sip at your boba while he talks, very carefully not listening to what he’s saying so as not to infringe on his privacy. The phone call lasts less than thirty seconds. He hangs up and clears his throat, so you turn back around. “So. I know we just got back, but how do you feel about going downtown again?”

study:

You swipe the message to the side and make the call. You’re getting desperate, and any roommate away from your hometown is better than going back. You meet all the expectations laid out in the ad, so as long as they let you study and don’t mind your ADHD, you’re fine. Your depression is pretty much under control with meds—shit, you still have to figure out how to apply for Medicaid, you’re running low—but they don’t need to know.

[bastionbibi]

Hi, it’s me Drabble Anon again. I’m glad you don’t mind my drabbles, if it ever becomes a problem please let me know, I have a lot of ideas for the ghost au but right now here’s a different concept thing for ya, I’m very sorry, I hope you enjoy and have a nice day or night:

Kaitou Kid groans as he rubs his eyes, his head ringing and pounding from the sudden flash of light that engulfed his vision. As he quickly regains himself, his mind flashes back to what had happened before, how he had snuck out to one of the building’s many balconies after successfully losing the guards to the confusion of the illusions he made before using the key he swiped to unlock the safe the jewel was put in made with the sturdiest tempered glass to keep it secure while showing it off to the public only for that little detective to find him right as he was about to pull out the Labradorite mirror from the safe-

The Labradorite mirror!

Immediately, Kaitou Kid whipped his head towards his hand, his heart dropping as he found himself looking at a small, fractured piece of what was once part of the Labradorite mirror in his hand.

“What?! How did it— when did it shatter?!” Kaitou kid yelped, dropping the safe in favour of examining the shattered jewel. How did this happen?! Was it a fake, a flash bomb? No, he was sure that it was the real thing, he checked.

“What happened?!” The kid, Conan exclaimed, looking in shock at the broken jewel in Kaitou Kid’s hands. Kaitou Kid waved his hands around helplessly, trying his best not to panic and steadily failing at it, “I don’t know, you tell me!”

“Kaitou Kid!!” Inspector Nakamori’s furious shout echoed out as the thunderous sound of footsteps became louder and louder, it wouldn’t be long until they find him. Kaitou Kid gulped, the last thing he wanted was to face the inspector’s wrath but what can he do? He can’t just return the Labradorite mirror!

“Hm, quite the conundrum we both are in.” A new voice came in, one eerily familiar to a certain British detective Kaitou Kid was familiar with. Both him and Conan turn towards the room the balcony led in to as a figure stepped in, dusting off his outfit. The person was wearing an open black suit with tailcoats at the back, a pale white button-up underneath and a dark green bow tie. His face is covered by a black mask, decorated with gold pattens swirling gently around its surface with a little spade charm dangling on its left. Kaitou Kid would have immediately questioned who this person was and how he got here were it not for the brown-blonde hair he instantly recognised.

“Hakuba?!” Kaitou Kid spluttered, recoiling back in shock. “What are you doing here?! What are you wearing?!”

“I have no idea who this Hakuba is.” Probably-Hakuba said calmly though Kaitou Kid could have sworn he saw his mouth twitch in irritation for the briefest of moments. “However, I do believe that you and I must take our leave soon.”

“Who are you supposed to be? How did you get in here?” Conan questioned, ready to strike at any moment just in case. Might be or might not be-Hakuba simply smiles in amusement, giving a polite bow to Conan as he says, “My dearest apologies, while I do wish to stay and chat, the gentleman in white and I must be on our way. However, you may call me, the Phantom Magician.”

“Phantom Magician- Wait that’s my schtick!” Kaitou Kid exclaimed indignantly, irked by this copycat attempt yet something in his mind knew that things aren’t adding up. Why would Hakuba try to pull such a stunt? It isn’t like him to make such a strange and nonsensical plan. And why act like this? It’s almost like Hakuba had taken his role…

Before he could question it further, Inspector Nakamori slammed the door open as the guards and officers poured in. Haku- Phantom Magician chuckled as he ran forward, grabbing Kaitou Kid before stepping up and leaping down the balcony. Kaitou Kid yelped in shock before activating his Hang Glider Cape, clinging onto Phantom Magician tightly as they both escape. Kaitou Kid grumbled, glaring down at the other, “You could have warned me you bastard, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

“The same can be said for you, Kuroba.” Phantom Magician said back in an almost deadpanned expression before adding, “Do not try to deny it, I know it is you. If you get to call out my identity then so do I.”

“Ah-ha! I knew it, you are Hakuba!” Kaitou Kid laughs triumphantly before frowning, “But why the costume change? It’s almost like you’re trying to be me.”

“I could say the same for you, Detective Kuroba.” Phantom Magician said which nearly made Kaito falter. “Excuse me?!”

“Do not drop me, keep focus on gliding!” Phantom Magician snapped, glaring up before sighing and taking the shattered Labradorite mirror from Kaitou Kid’s hands. “So, this is the Labradorite mirror, or at least a piece of it.”

“You know what it is?” Kaito asks as Phantom Magician nods, “Yes it was the subject of my heist but before I could even send a notice, I was suddenly transported to where we once were.”

“Transported? What, so you’re from an alternate dimension where you and I swapped roles?” Kaito asked, finding it all hard to believe and yet, it lines up with the information he gathered about the jewel prior to his heist. The Labradorite mirror was said to have shown the alternate lives of whoever gazed into it, who they could have been if they walked down a different path. There are even some rumours in myths that claim that the Labradorite mirror was actually a gateway into an alternate dimension.

“Wait, are you seriously an alternate Hakuba?!” Kaito shouted before his mouth gets covered by the alternate Hakuba who hissed, “Are you trying to wake the city up?!”

“Sorry, sorry, sheesh.” Kaito huffed, knowing for certain that Phantom Magician may be Hakuba, but not the Hakuba he knows. As they land in a small forest clearing away from many buildings or bustling streets, Kaito frowns as he plucks the Labradorite mirror shard out of Phantom Magician’s hands, examining it, “Still, this doesn’t make any sense. How are you here? Why did the Labradorite mirror suddenly shatter when I picked it up? Where are the other pieces?”

“I do not know, but we can ask the questions once we have more clues about the nature of the Labradorite mirror. What’s more important is that we find out where those other pieces of the jewel went. If it were to suddenly shatter, then they must be somewhere.” Phantom Magician said before he frowns, his brow furrowing as he crosses his arms, “What I’m more worried about is if it’s only me who got sent here, or there are others who got roped into this peculiar situation as well…”

“I’m home Dad!” Mouri Ran calls out, walking over to the living room only to stop and drop her bag when she sees herself staring back in the kitchen, her father looking between the two in pure bafflement and confusion. “Eh?!”

“This isn’t Nagano…” Morofushi Taka’aki muttered, rolling his wheelchair forward with Uehara Yui following close behind. She frowns with concern, looking down at her watch, “Agreed, and last I checked, it was 1.15pm in the afternoon before that bright light engulfed us.”

Scotch groans as he lifts up his head, taking in his surroundings. The undercover PSB agent took a deep breath before he stepped out of the alleyway he found himself in, looking ahead with a determined gaze, “Alright, time to figure out how and why I ended up here.”

Melkior Kurosawa let out a tch as he tied up his long hair into a simple bun before walking around the empty streets, staring down at the strange shard he found near him. Whatever this jewel is, Melkior knew that it might have something to do with how he ended up in this location. It’s just a matter of piecing it together from there.

“Well this is interesting.” Vermouth smirks as she looks around the city, pushing up her glasses. “Looks like I’ve somehow arrived at a different place. I wonder if you’re here too, Cool kid.”

Hey drabble anon!! 

I know being told to stop apologizing is uncomfortable, but just know that I like these and you shouldn’t apologize to me! But see, the thing is I have goldfish memory and something in my brain sometimes just refuse to let me answer/read stuff, I unexplainable even to me. BUT!! HERE GOES!! Live reaction as usual ahahaha 

Im surprised that’s it’s about Kid this time!! Let’s see how this goes. 

Labradorite mirror?? I deadass have no idea that they made mirrors out of precious stones, no wonder it got displayed. 

WAIT IS THAT TUXEDO MAAAAASSSKKK!!?!?!

OH No its not hm……… Phantom magician hmm………. I don’t trust him..

“It’s almost like Hakuba had taken his role…” 👀👀👀

DETECTIVE KUROBA HOOOLLLDDD OONN!!! 

I AM FLABBERGASTED!! 

Ok but the question is what happened to the og disney prince did he get swapped 

“Labradorite mirror suddenly shatter when I picked it up? Where are the other pieces?” LETS GO INUYASHA!!!!

WAIT BRO WHATS HAPPENING WAIT WHA 

KOMEEIIII NOOOOOOO

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SCOTCH!!!!!!!!!!!!?????!?

OK BUT WHAT IS HE DO 

MEOLKOIR DONT FUCK W ME RN WHA

VERMOUHT SIFNSKJFNSKJF 

WAIT NO ITS STOPPED!?! THATS IT!?!?! 

DRABBLE ANON!!

 I BEG I AM ON MY KNEES PLEASE MORE I CANT DO THIS WHATS HAPPENINJ NEXT AAAAAAAAAA 

PLEEEAASSEEEEEEE 

THIS CLIFFHANGER IS SO CRUEL I CANT 

edit: I ALSO JUST REALIZED THAT VERMOUTH SWITCHED PLACES WITH JODIE?? OH MY GOD I NEED MO 🗣🗣🗣

[mywingsareonwheels]

Much of Fred Thursday’s tragedy is that he has massive trauma around failing to successfully protect people (especially those close to him, but also innocent people in general), dating back from his childhood, through the war, and long long after. And he feels that if he lets down his mask for a second and lets himself be as vulnerable as he is or reach out for the help he needs or be fully open and honest with the people he’s close to, something awful will happen to someone he loves and he will be Letting Them Down and it will be His Fault Yet Again.

Much of Morse’s tragedy (inasmuch as he’s a tragic figure) is that he finds it incredibly hard to recognise just how loved he is. Series 9 really hammers that home (with him repeatedly underestimating how much the people around him care about him, Thursday and Bright especially), but it’s there throughout. I think he struggles later to truly recognise the love from Strange, Max, Hobson, and (above all) Lewis in Inspector Morse, too. And it’s often made worse by the communication failures of the people who love him (*growls at Fred but in a fairly sympathetic manner*), but that doesn’t mean they don’t, nor that he’s not missing a lot that should be obvious due to his lack of confidence, self-esteem, and trust in others. Part of what makes s9 so hard to watch is that we’re seeing things through Morse’s eyes but we’re catching sight of so much more than he is. He thinks he’s alone, that he’s trusted the wrong people, that he’s put everyone off; none of that is true, but because he doesn’t see that it might as well be. :-/

And oh Gods, those are both such damned understandable problems and I want to bundle both of them out of the police force and to a really good therapist. Aaaah.

(And series 9 is Fred in one long panic attack, and Morse in one long depressed and insecure brain spiral. *weeps a bit*)

[kanerallels]

For @monthly-challenge's Februfluff day 10: Night out!

“I have to say, this was a good idea,” William commented as they took their seats. “It’s been a while since we last had dinner together.”

“Too long,” Eliza agreed, smiling at him, and William would be lying if he said his heart didn’t stutter a little at the look.

Which was ridiculous. They’d had dinner together hundreds of times by now. This one wasn’t any different just because she was the one who’d suggested it, or because it was fairly soon after their most recent dinner. Or even because she was wearing a vivid red dress that took his breath away.

None of that had any bearing on the situation at hand. He was just having dinner with a friend, who he’d had dinner with a thousand times before.

That didn’t stop him from watching her a little longer than he perhaps should have, as she glanced around the restaurant once. And then another time. And then another, a frown turning down the corner of her mouth.

Wait. No. She wouldn’t— William glanced at her hands briefly, and almost groaned out loud. Of course she would.

“Eliza,” he said, keeping his voice calm and steady. “Why exactly did you suggest we have dinner tonight?”

“Hmm?” The glance she flicked back at him was distracted at first, but cleared up into an innocently confused smile seconds later. On anyone else, he almost would have believed in. “Oh— we just haven’t been able to see enough of each other lately, that’s all.”

“Ah,” William said, nodding. “And why this restaurant, particularly?”

“I heard a good recommendation.”

“Did you, now? From who?”

Eliza frowned at him. “William, you’re acting rather oddly— is everything alright?”

Letting out a short laugh, William sat back in his chair. “Not a bad performance, Eliza, but I’ve known you too long for this.” Arching an eyebrow at her, he added, “And you moved your ring to your left hand. Meaning you’re trying to convince people we’re married, meaning we’re here about a case.”

He’d give her this much credit— there was only a tiny flash of panic in her gaze before she covered it with an offended look. “Really, William, you are getting far too paranoid. Why on earth would this be about…”

She trailed off, staring over his shoulder. Twisting in his chair, William spotted a tall, dark-haired man with a blonde woman on his arm. A man he recognized as Arthur Flanagan, the main suspect in a murder case. Turning, he looked at Eliza. “You were saying?”

“Alright, fine,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “But you’d have tried to stop me from going if I’d told you what was really going on.”

“Yes, I would have,” William said, shooting her a scowl as he sat forward. Lowering his voice with an effort, he said, “That man is suspected of murdering two women and a retired detective inspector— he’s far too dangerous for you to go after on your own.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I have you here,” Eliza said.

Releasing a sound that was half-groan, half-sigh, William ran a hand over his face. “I can’t believe you— you know, I should be insisting that we leave now.”

“...but you’re not?” Eliza said, a hint of hopefulness coloring her voice and… well. He couldn’t bring himself to say they should leave, not even after she’d lied to him again.

Besides, they were still having dinner together. And letting Flanagan go would be a stupid move.

“No,” he said. “I’m not, though I don’t know why.”Well, he thought as a flash of happiness crossed Eliza’s face. Maybe I do know why.

[rpgsandbox]

25 Floating City Adventure Seeds

by Robb at readytorole.com

A few days after the city begun floating over the ocean, a large chunk of stone that supports the city broke away and fell into the water for the first time ever. While everyone is grateful that no buildings or people fell in, a panic has begun worrying about if more will break off.

A herd of migrating skywhales have been coming very close, and as of last night have toppled a tower injuring many. Usually the skywhales migrate in these parts, but they have always gone around the city before.

The magical orb that sits below the city but powers it has been flickering lately. Just last week the city rumbled as if in an earthquake and titled enough for furniture to slide. The wizard in charge claims he solved it, but small rumbles keep occurring.

Pirates aboard an airship have shot a warning shot of their cannons and demanded to speak with the leader of the city. When the mayor went out to meet with them, they demanded to speak with the real leader but won’t specify who that is, nor does anyone have any ideas.

The watchmen noticed that the city is heading directly for a volcano but the arcane controls that can move the city seem to be locked. The wizard who created the controls has since passed and time is running out as her daughter keeps trying to figure out who to unlock them.

Upon waking up after a city festival, the people have noticed that the city appears to be upside down, with the world above them and the sky below them. Luckily they and their belongings don’t seem to be falling up, but surely this can’t be good in the long run.

Crystals have started growing out of the stone underneath of the city, emitting a toxic cloud on the world below. The people of the lands below have threatened violence after their crops died but the people of the city are unaware of the crystals altogether.

On the day of the sky chariot racing, the inspectors caught hairline fractures in the body of the princess’ chariot. Now not only can she not compete, she is furious and is offering a reward for anyone who can figure out who sabotaged her chariot.

The Pegasus Guards who fly around the city patrolling for incoming dangers disappeared when they went under the city to inspect some noise, and only their pegasi have returned, covered in glowing, infected scars.

In the underbelly of the city is the jail for criminals as well as an arena. The arena itself has a large hole in the center that leads to a free fall to the ground, and criminals are given the chance to fight against vicious beasts for their freedom in the arena.

The windmill that converts clouds into drinking water has been broken for weeks and water is becoming an expensive import. Riots are starting the break out, but no one knows how to fix the windmill as the inventor accidentally turned himself to stone.

A wizard has purchased one of the smaller sky islands that floats along with the city and built a portal to an unknown location. Recently some monsters escaped and got stranded on the small island, now asking for help after initially intimidating the people of the city.

After flying too low to the mountains, some irritated giants have futilely tried grabbing and pushing back the city. Now a couple giants hold onto the bottom for dear like as it drifts over the ocean just beyond the mountains.

For the second month of the year, the floating city lands next to another major city and restocks many of its supplies, giving both cities good trade opportunities. Shortages on the ground have the people of the floating city worried about taking off under supplied.

Angry peasants on the ground catapulted trash into the city after it blocked the sun for a week, causing crops to perish and shrink. The city began dropping the trash back onto the peasants before zooming off.

The floating city finds itself besieged by wind elementals who claim that the elemental plane of air is messed up from city’s magic. They are demanding that the city land now and not take off again, which is difficult as the city is over a frozen wasteland currently.

The king pays a dragon with tithes of gold and other treasures to live in a cave below the city and protect it. However, when another dragon came and attacked, the city’s dragon simply left with as much treasure as it could carry, leaving the city to fend for itself.

Portals have been set up in three major cities that connect to the floating city. Traffic from the portals is overwhelming the flying city, and merchants are being cleaned out and the economy being ruined. Removing the portals is not an option as the magic was tied directly into the magic that keeps the city afloat.

The city-wide spell that protects from weather has failed, and the sweltering heat of the desert the city flies over causing illness among those in the city. The healers are overwhelmed and the mages frantically work themselves to exhaustion trying to restore the spell.

Children from a young age are taught magic to slow their fall should they accidentally fall off of the city. After a dare, one of the children jumped off to prove he could do the spell, but now no one can find him on the ground.

A traveling band of monks have taken to calling the city home lately after having studied near a volcano, in the depths of the ocean, and underground. Their techniques are destructive, but they reason that like the wind they must be unpredictable and uncontrollable to complete their pilgrimage of the four elements.

Farmers that saw the city float overhead just yesterday woke up to see the entirety of their farms now floating behind the city, and bridges being built out to them. Apparently they have been annexed, and many of the farmers are upset or afraid.

Harpies have decided to roost at the tops of the highest towers of the floating city. They swoop down at night to pick up an unlucky townsfolk for dinner, and the queen is calling for their extermination and peaceful negotiation failed.

An observatory has opened in the city to gaze up at the night sky. The mage who built it claims he has invented a telescope that can see into other planes of existence, but won’t let anyone look despite correctly predicting some otherworldly travelers lately.

A murderous doppelganger has found their way into the city and has begun whittling down the population. The city is currently over the ocean and won’t be near land for at least a week, meaning the city is trapped with a murderer as their numbers dwindle.

[mybones537]

Time chapter 3

Moriarty the Patriot x reader

I have posted this on Wattpad under the same username mybones537

“Sir is there anywhere more private we could go to so I can give you a proper check over so I can make sure nothing else is wrong?’’  I ask as I pack my stuff away into my bag.

“Of course. We can go to my carriage” Sir said as I helped him up. The crowd makes way for us to pass. I helped sir into his carriage.

I give him a check up, I can see his heart is under a lot of stress but it is expected. He is a man in his mid 40s and overweight.

“So Doctor (last name) is everything alright?’’ Ma’am asks with a worried expression.

“Well most things seem to be fine but sir your heart is under a lot of stress” I begin to explain, “I’d suggest to lose some weight and eat more healthy, so less fatty foods. If you’d like I could come around once a month to check if everything is alright’’ I suggest as I pack away my medical tools. “That would be much appreciated. Here is my address, how does the 5th of every month sound?” sir says as he writes down his address.

“That is fine with me” I say as I’m about to climb out the carriage.

“How much do we owe you for your services?” ma’am asks as she takes out a pouch full of money.

“Nothing at all” I replied.

“Then please take this as a symbol of our gratitude” Sir said as he handed me the pouch.

“I can’t possibly accept this. What about you?’’ I ask, I feel absolutely terrible about taking the money.

“Oh please. I am a Duke, this is practically nothing to us. Please accept this as a token of our appreciation. I insist” 

“I… Thank you. I don’t know what to say” I accept it gratefully, knowing I’m going to need it while I’m stuck here.

Just as sir was about to say something else there was a knock on the carriage door. Ma’am opens the door. 

“Excuse me, I am Detective inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard. We heard a disturbance in the area when we were at a crime scene nearby. Is everything alright?” Lestrade asked while not even giving a second thought. 

“We’re alright now. You see Inspector I had a heart attack and Dr (last name) here saved my life” Sir said while gesturing towards me. Lestrade looked my way, he froze. There was a look of recognition in his eyes.

Shit… He knows 

“Dr (last name) could you be so kind and come with me?” Lestrade asked nicely. 

“Of course. I’ll be there now” I said goodbye to the Duke and Duchess, took my things and climbed out the carriage. 

“Please come with me, to talk somewhere more private” Lestrade said.I nod my head and walk with him.

Shit. What should I do? He knows. Or Does he? Maybe he just wants to know about the heart attack.

(name) don’t fool yourself. Like come on you saw his face when he saw you. 

Okay don’t panic. 

“After you” the Inspector opened the door.

“Thank you” I walked in. I see we walked into an old building that no one could possibly live in.

“Why are we here?” I asked as I looked around. I see a small old beautiful painting of a white lily. 

“It's somewhere private so we can talk without any reporters prying in” Lestrade spoke as crossed his arms over his chest.

“Does anyone live here?” 

“No. No one has lived here in a long time” 

“Well then I’m taking this” I pick up the painting and carefully put it in my bag, “so what did you want to talk about?”  

“You look like the body at a crime scene that went missing. Care to explain?” 

“That’s very strange” I try to make it look like I have no idea. I look over at Lestrade to see him raising a brow, “Okay! Look I have no idea how I got there I swear!”

“Then what? Why were you wearing strange clothes” he said sceptically. 

“Listen if I told you, you’d probably think I’m crazy’’ 

“You’d be surprised what I have heard before” 

“I doubt you would’ve heard of this”, I spat

“Try me” he uncrossed his arms and put his hands in his pockets.

“I’m from the year 2023” I said as fast as possible.

“Excuse me but did I hear that right?” Lestrade asks dumbfounded.

“Yes.” (I explained what happened)

“So you’re telling me that you got hit by a ‘truck’ that knocked you over a bridge, you went unconscious and woke up at the crime scene?” He summarised what I said.

“Yeah pretty much”

“I was definitely not expecting that”, came a voice from upstairs. Giving both Lestrade and myself a fright.

“Oh my god! … did you know someone was there?” I ask Lestrade.

“I hadn’t the faintest clue” he said, “ Holmes get down here this instant!”

A man slowly walked down the stairs, he was wearing a navy blue suit, white shirt buttoned down his collarbone and he had his navy hair up in a ponytail. 

“Who the hell are you?” I asked in a monotone voice.

“I, my dear, am Sherlock Holmes. The world’s only consulting detective” he smirked.

[whisker-biscuit]

SlyFox Day 3: Hide

Mildly suggestive themes for this one but nothing warranting more than a T-rating.

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

It starts innocently, like it often does.

A light bump to the arm as they’re passing each other in the hall; a gentle brush to the shoulder while they’re both using the same corkboard wall to track down criminal movement; the slightest contact of two tails when he sits at his desk with a case file and she hovers over his chair.

It starts innocently, very often, and just as often it ends with them finding a remote corner of the building to make out.

Sly’s touch is tender and reverent where he’s running his fingers through her hair at the back of her skull, and Carmelita has him pressed against the wall with her hands cupping his face as if he might disappear out from beneath her at any moment. They kiss each other in a back-and-forth of chaste to sensual, sensual to rapid-fire, rapid-fire to chaste and then the pattern repeats again. Anyone else might see the display and wonder if they were actually drunk, but in truth they are simply making up for lost time.

There is a lot of lost time to make up for, after all. Lost time and lost kisses.

This time, they’ve tucked themselves away in an empty conference room that looks like it hasn’t seen visitors in at least a decade. The door to the hallway doesn’t have a lock on it, and Carmelita cannot help the thrill at the thought of how risky this new spot is – how someone could come in at any moment and catch them in an act that isn’t technically illegal but feels so very much so.

Then the thrill turns to horror as they hear footsteps coming their way.

Sly moves first, used to reacting to a sudden threat before he can be caught, and pulls her immediately through the opposite door on his left side. It’s not an escape – this is a cramped, dusty closet for housing extra chairs and portable tables – but it is a hiding place, and it’s just in time as Carmelita closes the door nearly-silently right before they hear the other one open.

She holds her breath like it will make her quieter as she presses one ear to the wood and listens for motion on the other side. Whoever crashed their party seems to be moving with purpose, doubling back and forth across the room, and she realizes with panic that they are probably setting up the large conference table for an actual upcoming conference. The fox prays to all that is holy that they don’t need more chairs.

Her partner is right behind her, but his presence has all but vanished. The only reason she can sense him at all is from instincts long-since honed to do so with him and him specifically. She might as well be alone in the closet for how unobtrusive he’s become.

That is, until she feels warm breath at her neck and gentle kisses at her cheek.

Carmelita stiffens, and Sly pulls back immediately. The unspoken apology radiates off of him in waves, but mixed in is a tentative sort of question that she doesn’t even need to turn around to know is on his face.

The stranger is still moving around the room proper. The inspector considers their predicament. If they are found in here, it’s going to be obvious what they were doing no matter how innocently they try to play it off. Sly seems to have already come to that conclusion and then followed it up with the decision that they might as well get something out of it while they’re stuck.

Carmelita hesitates, and considers. The thrill from before slowly begins to trickle back, subdued but no less potent and, with a final prayer that her boss will forgive her if the worst comes to pass, nods her head once in the dark.

The kisses resume, silent and careful and downright dangerous.

She keeps perfectly still as her partner peppers them across her cheek, down her neck, along the slightest bare of her shoulders where they meet her collared jacket. She closes her eyes and pretends it so that she can hear into the other room better when he silently moves her braided hair aside and starts in earnest at the base of her head. She refuses to breathe, refuses to squirm, refuses to show any reaction as he tries his absolute best to make her do the opposite.

She very nearly breaks when he presses his lips to her spine and hums. He hums so low and so quiet that she can only hear because they’re touching, and it almost makes her lose the game when, at the exact same time, the stranger outside their little haven makes a more audible sound than usual.

Carmelita manages not to shiver by sheer force of will, but she feels Sly’s smile against her skin and knows that he knows that he almost has her. Bastard.

Then, all at once, the stranger leaves, and she waits until the raccoon says a soft “they’re gone” before throwing open the closet door and rushing for the other exit. She can feel the heat in her face all the way up to her ears and refuses to look back at her partner the entire speedwalk back to their shared office.

As soon as they are safe in real privacy, she whirls on him and wants to either kiss or slap the stupid smug smile that’s there to greet her.

“Well,” he says, as unconcerned as if they’d just come back from lunch together, “that was certainly exciting.”

The inspector gives him a dirty look that is contrasted greatly by how red she still is. “We are never talking about this again.”

“You sure that’s what you really want?” Sly’s grin grows and grows and grows. “Cause it seemed to me like you were kind of into it. The risk of getting caught is awfully addictive, isn’t it?”

She can’t even argue; the thrill in her core over what they were doing is still making her heart want to beat out of her chest. Carmelita crosses her arms and huffs, then stops as an idea pops into her head. Her own crafty smile begins creeping across her mouth.

“I suppose it might be,” she gives a fake admission, “but I’m going to need more evidence to be sure.”

His eyes flash with impulse and passion. “Oh, yeah? Can I help you gather that evidence?”

“Perhaps…” The fox taps a finger to her upturned lips. “But to do that, we’re going to have to find out when that conference is being held, first.”

It takes a moment for her meaning to set in, but oh, the delight in his gaze when it does. Sly crosses the room in two strides and pulls her in for another kiss, and she returns it with zest. Later, she will decide whether this idea is one she’s shameless enough to go through with – but not now.

Right now, she has a raccoon in her arms and a thousand kisses to make up for, and that’s all that matters.

[moominpapasfanficblog]

The Inspector Moves On

On how being sad about change is perfectly normal

When The Inspector returned to his family he slowly told Mymble, Bristol, and Auguste about his encounter with Tornio’s Inspector and the loss of his job. Naturally, his family gathered around him and offered him their comfort.

“It’s alright, Dear, you were making the transition to being a full member of the Moomin Knights already anyway. This just means that we can arrange for you to be knighted much sooner.”, said Mymble, with their two sons nodding eagerly in agreement.

“If only it could be that easy! I don’t have any official government position anymore. I can’t even legitimately call myself an Inspector!That might disqualify me, especially in Queen Titania’s eyes. We might even lose our new quarters!”, said The Inspector.

“Pappa! You know better than that! You’ve always been as good as any Moomin Knight! They’re all your very good friends! Ours as well! We both love being Squires! The Moomin Knights will absolutely take your side and help you make your case to Queen Titania! What are we waiting for?! Let’s talk to the Knights right now and get their help getting an audience with the Queen!”, said Bristol.

Mymble, Bristol, and Auguste dragged the hesitant Inspector to the Knights’ barracks in the largest tower on the castle’s outer wall. Sir Charles, the Knights’ commander, welcomed them with open arms and heard The Inspector’s explanation of his predicament with compassion.

“Fear not, my friend! Thou shalt be more than welcome as a full member of the Knights. The Queen hath graciously given me permission to enter her presence and deliver urgent petitions and news. Come with me, all of thou and we shall see her directly!”, said Sir Charles.

When they all entered the castle’s great hall and bowed down before Queen Titania and King Oberon, The Inspector was more nervous than he had ever been before and he had to concentrate mightily to keep himself from trembling. But, he needn’t have worried. The Queen granted them an audience immediately upon Sir Charles’ request and heard The Inspector’s somewhat hesitant explanation of his current situation with serious attention.

“We are most sympathetic towards thy predicament. Naturally, We shall knight thee immediately! But, thou wilt require a new name to go with your new position, Sir……?”, asked Queen Titania.

The Inspector was completely taken aback and out of sorts and said the first name that came to his mind in a panic; “Sir……Antonius?! Is that alright? Is that good enough?”, said The Inspector.

“Excellent! We are pleased! Now, kneel before me, Sir Antonius!”, said Queen Titania. The Inspector obeyed instantly and Queen Titania used her scepter to touch him on both shoulders. He arose and Sir Charles and his family congratulated him heartily. After paying their due respects to the Queen, they all made their way back to the Knights’ barracks where the Knights had hastily prepared a party to celebrate the addition of their new member. The first order of business was to help Sir Antonius into his official suit of armor. He really looked like a knight now. It was quite a warm welcome.

Sir Antonius still felt out of sorts despite the good turn of events when he and family got back to their rooms, a fact that his family couldn’t help noticing.

“What’s the matter, Pappa? Everything turned out for the best, just like Sir Charles said it would!”, said Auguste.

“It’s silly! Everything that I boasted about to Tornio’s Inspector has happened exactly as I said it would. I did believe it in my heart, honestly, but I was also putting on a brave face. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset! But, it all really happened! I’m surrounded by great friends and colleagues! I have a new mission, a new life, and a new name to go to with them! And then, there’s all of you! You’re the source of my strength and happiness! And yet, I’m sad! I miss being Moominvalley’s Inspector! I’m going to have to dismiss the Constables and send them to their homes! I’m going to have to shut down the police station that I established here in the castle! I dearly miss my keys on a chain that I lost to that insufferable Hemulen! I’m going to miss going to the old police station every week to clean it! I’m going to miss my Inspector’s uniform!”, said Sir Antonius, tears running down his cheeks.

“That’s perfectly alright, my darling! You go ahead and cry as much as you need to!”, said Mymble, hugging her husband tenderly. Bristol and Auguste immediately joined their mother.

The End