#sir the bags under your eyes are splendid

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 2

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 4,757

Read Chapter 1

Read on Ao3

Loading up the last of your belongings in a small, borrowed handcart, you begin the difficult ascent from your small shop in the lower town to Camelot’s citadel. The journey is prolonged somewhat by the need for regular stops to rest, but eventually you make it across the bridge and into the castle’s large courtyard.

You wheel the cart about halfway across the square when a young man with short, dark hair and a red neckerchief approaches.

“Are you (Y/N)?” He asks.

“Yes, that’s me,”

“I’m Merlin, King Arthur’s manservant,” He introduces himself with a bright smile. “He asked me to assist you with moving your belongings into your new chambers,”

“Oh, that was thoughtful of him,” You set the cart down and shake the ache from your arms. “We might have to do a few trips,”

Merlin peers into the cart. “I think we can make it in one,”

You raise your brows in disbelief.

“I’m really good at carrying things,” He assures.

Merlin grips the cart’s handles and wheels it across the remaining length of the courtyard, positioning it beside the main entrance stairs, then begins removing your belongings from the cart, placing them over his shoulders and under his arms. You join him, taking your bag of clothing and the wicker basket, which is filled with sewing implements and kitchen supplies. Glancing at Merlin, you see he’s loaded himself up like a pack horse.

“I admit, I might have to come back for those,” He inclines his head to the remaining bolts of fabric in the bottom of the cart.

“A splendid effort, nonetheless. Are you sure you can carry all that up the stairs?”

“I’m sure,” He grins. “Shall we head up?”

As Merlin leads you through the castle, you try to memorise each staircase, corridor and corner to your new home, until Merlin stops in front of a door in a quiet passage.

“Here we are,” He says, reaching into his jacket pocket with some difficulty.

He pulls out a key and inserts it into the door’s keyhole. With a turn and a click, the door swings open, emitting a brief creak. You step into a large, rectangular room which is indeed well-lit, with several small windows along the right wall. To the far-left is a fireplace, with two chairs placed in front with a small round table between them. In the middle-left of the room is a dining table with a long bench on either side. On the right of the room, against the windows, are two large worktables, perfect for spreading and cutting fabric. Next to those is a full-length mirror, a wooden dressing screen and a large shelving unit. A few well-placed rugs already give the place a homey feel. You can’t wait to arrange your belongings in here.

In the centre of the far wall is another door. You stride across the room and open it to reveal a smaller chamber. Sunlight floods the room from a window on the left wall, under which is a bed, about double the width of the one in your old home. On the right side of the room is a wardrobe, a trunk and a modest bookshelf. Against the wall closest (the one which the door is positioned) is a washbasin with a small mirror, and a bathtub.

“This place is amazing!” You say as you step back into the main room.

“I’m glad you think so,” Merlin smiles as he places your belongings down on the dining table. “I’ll just go and fetch the rest of your things,”

“Let me help,” You rush forward to go with him.

Merlin holds out his hands to stop you. “It’s alright, I’m good at carrying things, remember?”

“If you’re sure?”

“I am. You can start making yourself at home,” He shoots you a toothy grin and heads out, closing the door behind him.

You only manage to put your clothing away in the wardrobe and trunk in the bedroom by the time Merlin returns. He places the last bolts of fabric on the table next to your other belongings.

“Before I go, Arthur wanted me to tell you that some of the knights will be stopping by tomorrow. Something about gambesons, I think,”

“Alright, thank you for letting me know, and for all your help today. I highly appreciate it, Merlin,”

 “You’re welcome. It’s nice to be appreciated.” Merlin smiles. “Anyway, I’d better get back to Arthur. Bye!”

He rushes out the door before you can respond.

~

The next morning, you find a place for your remaining belongings, making sure everything is neat and presentable. The shelves in the main chamber are now filled with fabrics, and atop one of the large tables, your sewing journal, quill and ink are ready for the day’s work.

A knock at your door startles you, but you take a deep breath, ready to greet your first client. You open the door to find not a knight, but the queen.

“My lady,” You greet her with surprise.

“Gwen,” She corrects you with a smile.

“Of course. Please come in, Gwen,” You step aside and gesture for her to enter.

She steps inside and looks around. “I hope everything is to your satisfaction?”

“Oh yes, I am more than satisfied. This will do very nicely indeed,”

“I am glad,” Gwen smiles. “Arthur informed me this morning that he’s planning to send some of the knights to you today. I thought he may have been a bit hasty, so if you need more time to prepare, I can put them off,”

“No, that’s quite alright, thank you. I am ready to get to work,”

“Very well, I should leave you to it. The first of the knights shouldn’t be too far off. Good luck on your first day,”

“Thank you my lad– Gwen,”

She nods with a smile and leaves your chambers.

About twenty minutes later, there are three firm knocks upon your chamber door. You rush to answer, and are greeted by a knight, one you believe you saw riding through the lower town a few days ago. He is tall and slim, with curly, dark blonde hair and a short beard.

“Welcome, sir?” You say, beckoning him inside.

“Leon,” He says, stepping into your chambers.

“Sir Leon, how may I be of assistance?”

“I’m in need of a new gambeson,”

“Alright, if you could just strip down to your tunic and trousers, I can take some measurements,”

The knight stiffens, brow furrowed in confusion. “Shouldn’t we wait until the clothier arrives?”

“I am the new clothier,” You state.

Sir Leon’s cheeks redden. “I’m sorry, I meant no offence. Just… is it really appropriate for a woman to fit a man’s clothes?”

“Since I haven’t asked you to strip down to just your unmentionables, I think we’ll be alright,” You smirk.

You swear you see the knight’s cheeks deepen further, as he nods and begins to unbuckle his cloak. You step closer and take his cloak when he’s removed it, standing by to do the same for his chainmail shirt and gambeson. You take the clothing to one of the worktables and place them down neatly, grabbing your tape measure.

“Lift your arms please,” You say as you approach him.

He does so, and you slip the measuring tape around his chest, bringing it together at centre front. You mutter the number to yourself, and step over to the table to mark it down in your journal. You do the same for his waist, then measure the length of his arms, before standing behind him to measure the width of his shoulders and the length of his torso.

Once all the figures are written down, you take his old gambeson from the pile of clothes and spread it out on the table. It’s clearly been well-used, the fabric worn through in some places, as well as rips and slashes in other areas. Grease stains cover the garment, made by the armour worn over it.

“And the new gambeson is to be in the same style and colour as this one?” You ask.

“Yes, thank you,”

You flip to a new page in your journal and take a quick sketch of the design.

“Very well, Sir Leon, I should have your new gambeson made up in a few days,”

You grab his pile of clothes and take them to him. He hastily gets dressed and clears his throat.

“Thank you,” Hey says, heading for the door. “Sorry about before,”

“That’s quite alright. Until next we meet,”

You close the door behind him once he’s stepped out, and exhale. You hope not all the other knights will be the same. You’re sure you’ll get sick of having to explain over again that you are in fact the woman for the job, not just an assistant.

You hardly have time to relax before there’s another person at the door. You answer to find Sir Gwaine.

“Sir Gwaine, please come in,”

He steps inside, looking about the room. “Nice place you’ve got,” He spins around to look at you. “I just saw Sir Leon on my way here. He looked flustered. What did you do to him?” He gives a lopsided grin.

“I didn’t do anything,” You defend yourself. “He was perhaps embarrassed that he basically said it should be a man in my role,”

Gwaine shakes his head playfully. “Ah, that’s Leon for you. You’ve got to cut him some slack. He’s been around since Uther’s time, so I suppose you could say he has a bit more of a… traditional outlook on some things,” He smiles. “Then again, he may have just been flustered from being alone in the presence of a beautiful woman,”

You scoff. “I don’t think so,”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it. Leon is the nervous type. He’s not so skilled at talking to ladies,”

“Whereas I suppose you are, and are very confident in yourself,”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Gwaine shrugs.

“Anyway, I have a job to do. Stand here please,” You gesture for him to stand by the worktable. “What is it you need today?”

“A new cloak,” He grabs the sides of his cloak and spreads it out like scarlet wings, revealing several rips.

“What did you do, get dragged behind a horse?”

He laughs. “Something like that,”

“Well, remove the cloak please,”

He undoes the buckle at his throat and does as you say, passing the bundled cloak to you. You place it on the table and grab the tape measure. You stand behind Gwaine, measuring his shoulder width, marking it down in your journal before returning to your spot behind him, placing one end of the tape measure at the nape of his neck.

“Hold this here please,”

Gwaine reaches his hand behind his head and glides his fingers down until they brush against yours and over the tape measure.

“That’s it, now keep it still,”

He does as you say, and you extend the tape measure down, lowering into a crouch until the tape meets the floor. You mutter the measurement to yourself and stand.

“Thank you,” You retrieve the tape end from under Gwaine’s finger and he drops his arm down.

Back at the table, you mark down the number in your journal and unfold the cloak partially, to reveal the embroidered insignia. Flipping to a new page, you begin to sketch the design of the golden dragon for you to use as reference later. Sir Gwaine comes into your peripheral, leaning against the edge of the table next to yours. You feel his eyes on you and glance up.

“I expect you to take better care of the cloak I will make for you,” You say. “I will be very cross if you return here with it ripped to shreds,”

“Upon my honour, I will treat my new cloak as my most prized possession,”

Finishing your sketch, you pass the cloak back to him. He swings it around his shoulders and starts on the fastening when your stomach rumbles loudly.

“Please excuse me,” You say, embarrassed.

“Have you eaten today?” Gwaine asks.

“I admit I… may have forgotten. I’ve been busy getting ready for my first day,”

“No matter, let’s go to the baker’s and get you something,” He finishes fastening his cloak and heads for the door before looking back at you expectantly.

“I thank you, but there’s no need to trouble yourself,”

You glance over to the kitchen area of your chambers, spotting only a stale end of a loaf of bread to eat.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” Gwaine says, following your gaze.

“Alright then, I suppose I should get some things from the market as well while I’m out,”

You cross the room swiftly and pick up your basket before heading for the door.

“Let’s go,”

You walk with Gwaine from the castle to the town’s market street. He leads you to a small and familiar bread shop.

“I enjoy the fruit buns from here,” You say as you cross the shopfront.

“Have you ever tried the ones with custard in them?” Gwaine asks as he holds the door open for you.

“No, I haven’t.” You reply. “Since they cost a bit more,”

“Today’s your lucky day then,” He smiles before approaching the shop counter.

He orders two of the buns and the baker retrieves them from the angled shelves behind him, placing each bun in a small sheet of paper and passing them to Gwaine. The knight drops a few coins in the baker’s hand and steps back outside, where you follow him to a nearby bench to sit and eat. Gwaine waits for you to take a bite first, after which you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Good, isn’t it?” He grins.

You nod enthusiastically while chewing the mouthful.

You both eat the buns, Gwaine finishing his in three large bites. When you’ve finished yours, you wipe your mouth on the back of your hand.

“I really should do my shopping so I can head back and get started,”

Gwaine sighs. “I should head back as well. I hope you enjoyed your late breakfast?”

“I did, thank you Gwaine. I shall have to return the favour one day,”

“Nonsense. Having a fine cloak made by your hands will be repayment enough,” He stands and extends a hand to you.

You take it and stand as well, brushing crumbs off your dress. He lets go of your hand and gives a small bow.

“Good day to you, my lady,”

He smiles and turns around, walking back up the street to the castle.

After doing some shopping at the market, you head back to your chambers and use the rest of the day to start working on Sir Leon’s gambeson and Sir Gwaine’s cloak.

~

The next morning, you remember to eat breakfast, and with no new clients for the day, continue working on Sir Leon’s gambeson. An hour or so into work, a sharp pain swells in your lower abdomen. At first you push through, continuing with your sewing, but the pain intensifies, to the point you’re doubled over, gritting your teeth. You berate yourself for losing track of your cycle. You’re usually on top of it, but with all the changes recently, you’d let it slip your mind.

You rest for a while, waiting for the pain to pass, but every time it seems it’s going to subside, it rears its ugly head again. Irritated that if it continues, you won’t be able to get more work done today, you decide that you need to visit the herbalist in the lower town. You have seen her in the past for when your monthly pains have been particularly bad. You fetch your cloak from your bedroom and head out.

You slowly make your way through the castle, taking careful steps as not to jostle yourself too much. The stairs are particularly difficult and you take them at a snail’s pace. At last you reach the exit and start your descent down the main stairs into the courtyard.

“Hello, how are you settling in?”

The voice startles you, and you look up to find Merlin, giving you a warm smile.

“Oh, hello Merlin,”

Your jaw clenches as a wave of pain rolls over you, causing you to stoop over. Suddenly a hand is on your back.

“(Y/N), you’re unwell. I’ll take you to see Gaius right away,”

You look up at Merlin, his face lined with concern.

“That’s quite alright, Merlin. I’m just going to a herbalist in the town. She has helped me before,”

“You can’t walk all that way in this condition. I’ll take you to Gaius, he’ll be able to help you,”

You groan at another attack of pain, and lower yourself so you’re sitting on the steps, holding your knees against your chest. Merlin kneels on a lower step in front of you.

“I appreciate the offer, Merlin, but what afflicts me is… a women’s issue,” You say, sure it will get the man to leave you alone at last.

But he shows no revulsion, not even the slightest flinch.

“Gaius is a very skilled physician, and knows how to treat all sorts of ailments,”

You sigh, thinking how you would rather not have to walk through the busy streets of the town.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,”

You reach a hand to Merlin and he stands, pulling you upright. He offers you an arm, which you grip firmly as he guides you up the stairs.

You remain on Merlin’s arm until he stops at a worn wooden door in a part of the castle you haven’t seen yet. He opens the door and guides you inside, an arm around your back. An old man with shoulder-length, silvery-white hair looks up from a book he was perusing, snapping to attention when he sees you.

“This is (Y/N),” Merlin says. “I caught her struggling down the stairs in the courtyard. She has severe menstrual cramps,”

“Bring her to the bed here,” The old man gestures to a simple bed nearby.

Merlin escorts you there and helps you to sit on the edge.

“A pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). I am Gaius, the court physician. Are you taking anything for the pain currently?”

“Not at the moment. I was just on my way to get something from a herbalist woman in the town,” You explain.

“You need not make the journey, you can come straight to me if you have any ailment,” He points at you with his thumb every few syllables, his voice stern but kind. “Do you know when your cycle is due to begin?”

“With the way I feel right now, I’d say tomorrow. I’m usually on top of this, just with the move into my new lodgings and everything, I lost track,”

“That’s quite alright. These things happen,” Gaius steps away to a long wooden workbench.

He sets up some equipment and beckons Merlin over, instructing him on certain ingredients he needs. Merlin swiftly steps across the room to a large bookshelf, packed with small glass bottles filled with various liquids, herbs and other things you don’t recognise. Merlin picks out some of the bottles and brings them to Gaius, who begins using the ingredients immediately.

“I will give you something for the pain now,” He turns his head toward you as he speaks. “But in future, I will be able to give you something to take a few days before your cycle, which should ease the discomfort,”

You hear crunching and scraping as he uses a mortar and pestle, followed by a low bubbling as a plume of steam rises from his workbench. You watch the physician work, until he presents you with a small bottle filled with a translucent green liquid.

“Take this now,” He says, passing you the bottle.

You hold it against your lips and tip the contents into your mouth, tasting an unpleasant bitterness as you swallow it.

“It should take effect in about twenty minutes. I will give you some vials to take with you,”

You hear a clink of glass on glass before Gaius turns around with a small parcel wrapped in hessian cloth.

“You can only take this once every six hours I’m afraid, but it should help. You may rest here until you feel ready to return to your chambers,”

“Thank you, Gaius,” you give the old man a smile, which he returns. “And you too, Merlin,”

After having rested for a time in the physician’s chambers, Merlin takes you back to your rooms and you part ways. Feeling quite worn out, you head to your room to lie down, hands clasped over your belly. Eyelids becoming heavy, you begin to sink into a slumber when a knock at your chamber door startles you. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you get up and head to the door. You open it to find Sir Gwaine looking back at you.

“I saw you in the courtyard earlier with Merlin while I was coming back from training,” He says, brow furrowed. “Is everything alright? You looked unwell,”

You step aside to let Gwaine in and he steps inside, his eyes still locked on you.

“I was unwell, but Merlin took me to see Gaius and I’m feeling much better now,”

A dull throb courses through your lower abdomen, causing you to flinch.

“What is it?” Gwaine asks, rushing to you, an arm on your shoulder.

“It is nothing to be concerned about,”

“I can take you back to Gaius, he ca–”

“If you must know,” You interrupt. “It is women’s monthly issues I am dealing with,”

Understanding washes over Gwaine’s face.

“And you are now the third man today I’ve had to speak to about it, so feel free to leave in disgust,”

“I’m not disgusted and I’m not leaving,” Gwaine stands firm. “Come and sit by the fire,”

He gently leads you across the room and into a chair in front of the fireplace, before beginning to pile kindling and firewood in the grate. After a few moments, he’s started a fire and steps back, taking the other chair beside you.

“I’ve heard the warmth can help,” He says, holding out his palms to feel the heat.

“You’ve heard?”

“Living with my mother and sister had me learn of these things,” He explains.

“I didn’t know you had a sister. Is she here, in Camelot?”

“No,” Gwaine says, reaching for the iron poker and jabbing it into the flames. “And that’s for the best,”

“Why do you say that?” You ask. When you look at him, you see his expression is not a pleasant one. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry,”

“No, it’s alright,” He sighs. “I suppose you could say that we don’t see eye to eye,”

You nod in understanding. “Family can be complicated,”

Gwaine hums in agreement, staring into the fire for a moment, before he gets up.

“I’m sorry to leave so soon, but I need to get ready for training,”

You start to stand.

“No, don’t get up, I can find my own way out,” He says. “I hope you feel better soon. I’ll check in tomorrow if it’s not a bother?”

Your automatic response is to tell him not to worry about you, but it has been nice to be looked after.

“It won’t be a bother. See you tomorrow,”

~

You plod along the next day, doing bits of sewing here and there, taking rests in between. The day seems to crawl on especially slowly, until at last the sunlight fades and you put your sewing away. Having no motivation to cook anything, you eat a simple dinner before sitting by the fire with a candle beside you, making a start on the dragon embroidery for Sir Gwaine’s new cloak.

You bundle your legs up on the chair as the pain returns, wondering if Gwaine will be visiting after all. Perhaps he is very busy of perhaps he forgot. You try to decide which to be more likely when there’s a soft knock at your chamber door. Placing the embroidery hoop down on the small table beside you, you get up and cross the room.

“Sorry I’m calling late,” Gwaine says as you open the door. “I went to the market straight after training and spent ages trying to find what I wanted, then I had to head back to my chambers and get washed and changed, and – you don’t need to know all this,” He gives an abashed smile.

“What matters most is that you’re here now,” You give him an assuring smile and beckon him inside.

He steps into your chambers when you realise his different appearance. Until now you’ve only ever seen him in his knight’s kit. Now he’s wearing a brown jacket, with leather bodice and quilted fabric sleeves, over a grey tunic, cinched at the hips with a leather belt. His posture suggests he feels more comfortable than when he’s in uniform, and you can’t blame him. You’re sure the chainmail shirt would weigh one down eventually, even a knight.

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Better than yesterday,” You lead him to the fireplace, gesturing for him to sit in the chair beside yours. “Although Gaius’ potion is starting to wear off and I can’t take another dose for a few hours yet,”

“Well I did bring something that’ll hopefully help,” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out what appears to be a red cloth bag and passes it to you. The weight and feel of the bag surprises you, and the contents sag as you hold it. It feels as if it’s filled with grain. Upon inspection, you find that the bag is sewn shut on every side.

“What is it?” You ask.

“My mother and sister used them to help with their monthlies. They called it a wheat bag. You heat it by the fire, then place it against the place that’s painful. The heat is said to help ease the pain,”

“Is this what you got from the market?”

Gwaine nods.

“The thing you spent ages trying to find?” You ask.

“Well…” He scratches the back of his head.

“That is very thoughtful of you,” You say, touched by his actions. “You must show me how it is heated, I don’t want to set it aflame my first time using it,” You pass it to him.

He places in on the ground a few feet in front of the fire.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” He asks.

“I had some bread and cheese earlier. I didn’t want to bother with cooking,” You admit.

“Ah, good old bread and cheese, that’s classic late night tavern fare,”

Gwaine grins, reaching into his jacket again, pulling out a paper bundle. He unwraps it to reveal two fruit and custard buns.

“Will you be wanting some dessert?” He raises his brows.

You gasp and take one of the buns. “How could I resist?”

“I almost couldn’t,” Gwaine takes a bite of his bun. “I considered eating mine before I got here,”

“You showed great restraint,” You say between mouthfuls.

After finishing the bun, Gwaine removes the wheat bag from beside the fire and passes it to you. You place it in your lap, against your lower belly, and take up your embroidery again, stitching away while you and Gwaine talk. He shares amusing stories from his times with the other knights and you share anecdotes about particularly rude or misbehaved customers. Not until you get up to retrieve more thread do you realise that your pain has almost completely subsided.

“That worked wonderfully, thank you Gwaine,” You say as you sit down again. “I must repay you in some way,”

“There is no need for that. To spend time in your company is enough for me,”

Your cheeks warm. Gwaine groans as he stands up.

“Speaking of time, I really should turn in. Morning training tomorrow,” He grimaces.

“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” You say sympathetically.

“It really isn’t. Sometimes I think our king is in love with sweat and pain. Anyway, goodnight my lady,” He bows.

“You realise I’m not a lady,”

“Perhaps not officially, but to me…” He places a palm against his heart.

“Oh hush. Get out of here before you speak any more nonsense,” You hold back a smile.

“As my lady wishes,” He gives a deeper, exaggerated bow and exits your chamber.

[sxrahwashere]

All In Vain ( written by yours truly )

—————————————

It as a beautiful fall morning on the island of Sodor and sir topham hatt had some very exciting news

“today is a very important day!” he said happily

“OMG! is it your birthday sir?” said Thomas curiously

“Even more important than that Thomas” as sir topham hatt exclaimed

“Is it Christmas already?” Percy gasped with a smile on her face

“Nooo percy, not just yet” sir topham hatt said

“Tonight!” he said with an excited look

“the mayor of sodor and i are to attend celebratory ball at Collins castle” and he laughed as he danced a little 

all the engines were kinda disappointed and gave a frown look and they looked at sir topham hatt when he coughed

“Well! we will need an engine to take us there!” he exclaimed happily

james talked first and then it was percy but practically all the engines were talking at once and sir topham hatt could even hear all the engines talk at once

sir topham hatt giggled with glee and tried calming his engines down and made them quiet until james spoke

“if it’s that important, you should be carried by a really splendid engine like ME sir” said james as he was trying to get the job

thomas was giggling and he said “typical James, always trying to get the best jobs”

“i know!” as edward rolled his eyes

“and the mayor lives on my branch line near suddery” edward said

“well james was the first to speak up so he gets the job!” sir topham hatt said

“OH thank you sir!” as james smiled

“just as long as you get the rest of your jobs done in time james” sir topham hatt said with this finger ☝️

“i won’t let you down sir!” james said as he started chuffing out of tidmouth sheds

James was good as his work and keeping his red paint so red and he went so fast and he wanted to work extra hard to look good as he finally brought the trucks to the docks where he saw cranky so james blew his whistle and said

“HHHHEEEERRREEESSSS JAMESSSSSSSS!”

“your looking jolly today james?-” said cranky

and before you know it, james blabbered on how special his job was and what he was planning to do it nicely but cranky didn’t really care about what james was saying because he was rolling his eyes and annoyed of it so he had en evil idea and grabbed a sugar pack of crate that was laying

“well i wouldn’t wanna keep you from your special job james” cranky said sarcastically

and then again james said that all his jobs were special and even the one he had to do today until cranky dropped a bag of sugar on james

james was in shock and spotted out the sugar he got in his face

“sorry about that, leaky sugar sack” cranky said sarcastically with an evil grin on his face

“never mind cranky! it’s only sticky if gets wet with water” but james said it to early and the water from sea side docks came at him splashing and it got all over him

“like that you mean? heh 😈” cranky said with an evil look

“OH NO! MY BEAUTIFUL PAINTWORK!” james exclaimed sadly

cranky laughed evilly while james tried to smile and not worry about the sticky-ness he has, so even tho he got a bit sticky, james kept smiling but in the inside he had pain going through while working very hard but as the day went on, his shiny red paint got dirter and dirter and when james started going, thomas came along past by james and there was mud on the track and mud got on james and thomas said

“OOPS! Sorry james!!” thomas exclaimed while taking annie and clarabel

james got even more pissed off that his shiny red paintwork got so sticky and muddy and when he was gonna go témoignage under the coal thingy, another engine bumped into him when trucks were coming foward so james chuffed backwards and after that coal dropped on him and he was coughing but then edward came along and blew his whistle to james

“hello james! looking forward to your special job tonight?” edward asked cheerfully

“yes i am actually- but i really need to go to the wash-down to clean up first and i’m still not finished for the day” james said in a worry look

“want me to help 1 or 2 of your jobs so you could finish faster and get on time?” edward said curiously

“uhhhh no thanks edward, im fine, i think i can manage, i told sir topham hatt that i could pull the special tonight and i will!” james said with a half smile on his face

“alright, if you say so!” as edward chuffed along

james was so tired and exhausted and got his paint all clean at the wash down and the work men were looking at his paint work until they found a little scratch and few seconds later when the work men told james he had a scratch and he panicked and went off to the steam works and told the people to re paint him bc of a little scratch he had and he panicked over and he didn’t want to wait for his paint work to dry so he went away without waiting because he thought he was going to dry on the wind with his speedinesses and after he made it he saw edward along the way

“heresss jamesss! well edward, what do ya think?” as he said with a smug look

and edward just stared and looked at james’s paintwork and was gonna say smth

“what? what’s the matter?” james asked

“oh james, your paintwork!” edward said worryingly 

“i knowww! it’s splendid, isn’t it?” as he said in a smug look

“you got dust stuck all over it” edward said

“DUST?!” james exclaimed

“and leaves” edward said

“LEAVES?!” james said in a shock look

“and as well with twigs” edward added as he said that

“TWIGS!?!” he exclaimed

he looked all over himself and saw what happened and said to himself that he should have worried about that tiny scratch he got and he thought he would be so embrassed to be going like this so he asked edward to take the mayor and sir topham hatt to the ball and edward accepted it and edward chuffed away as james thanked him

as edward came it with the coaches saying “heresss edward!” both sir topham hatt and the mayor were confused while edward was still smiling and excited to take these guys to Calen castle even tho the mayor and sir topham hatt oule be excepting james

The next day sir topham hatt went to tidmouth sheds to go and talk to james and sir topham hatt told james to come out and and james did come out and everyone laughed at him

“i don’t know about being a really splendid engine james but your certainly a sticky one!” thomas said while laughing his ass off

sir topham hatt was saying a whole dang ass paragraph on how james failed to show up and let down the mayor and him down and not even showing up but edward told him that james worked rlly hard if he didn’t bother about that tony scratch he did and afterwards, james replied with a an apology and went to get cleaned up and he went to the steam works to get re painted all over again and while he was getting his paint to dry, the mayor came and talked with james and sir topham hatt and they had it all figured it out and the mayor only needed james tonight and he deserves a 2nd chance and asked if james would take him to dinner at victors town and he accepted that request

that night james took the mayor and he was very proud of himself to be taking the mayor to vickers town and he whistle to edward and edward whistled at him

edward gasped “you do look splendid tonight james!” as edward whistled

“thank you edward! i knowww” james said with a relief and smiled

THE END

[karenarella22]

Second.

Okey guys and girls, this is the chapter before the grand final, hope you like what you've read so far, this is a long one, it is gona round off the story, but don't worry we have got two more books to go. Ans as I always tell you, this chapter contains graphis content, reat it at your own risk.

***

-What's wrong?- I say without taking my eyes off the glass. A few minutes ago Elizabeth started writing and she doesn't seem to want to stop anytime soon.

The D.A. who was by my side witnessing the entire interview took me by the arm, away from the place to a secluded place since the entire office was hanging around the interrogation room to find out if we had finally caught the murderer.

-Vinicio Conte's lawyer was at my office today asking about the surveillance recordings of his client, and I gave them to him-he confesses.

-What?! Why did you do that?-

-I couldn't deny it, it's my duty, besides it would look too suspicious if I didn't hand them in- I lean against the wall rethinking the whole situation in my mind, I'm done.

-Great, this is the end of my career- I murmur in shock.

-Congratulations detective- an smiling sergeant approaches shaking my hand- you did an excellent job-

-T..thank you sir- I stammer outlining a grimace full of anguish and despair more than a smile. Becket walks out of the room with the list of names in hand and I grab it from him before he can even say a word.

-Detective congratulations- cadet Becket approaches us with a splendid smile, his pubescent face recently freed from acne seems to have a special shine due to the events we have just witnessed-we will have a celebration at Rick's pub in an hour I think that should come, you are the heart of the case-

-Of course, of course I'll be there- I watch him walk away, I look back at the prosecutor who swears under his breath- I'll find a way to fix this situation- I walk to my office and slam the door. I try not to cry feeling a mixture of dark sensations growing inside me.

I see through the window the officers go by, I wish they were in my place, I feel their accusing gazes on me even when they haven't even heard what happened yet.

I lay down on the sofa to rest for a bit, I don't remember the last time I ate like a decent person, much less when I slept in my own bed for more than 4 hours. The knock on the door can be heard and with what seems like a grunt I make the person behind the door know that they have ruined my 5 minutes of quietness, of those few that I have left.

-Aeryne, you will go to the party that Becket prepared? He already make it clear to everyone that he participated as your assistant throughout the investigation- Dylan laughs taking a seat next to me, I giggle covering my eyes so that the artificial light do not bother me.

-Let him gloat while he can, when they find out what I did he won't want to have me 8 kilometers around- I bite my nails.

-Well that's happens now but because of the smell you have- I laugh out loud throwing a cushion that I had brought here to make more comfortable the nights I stay working.

-Shut up idiot, at least I bathe 4 times a week, you don't even bathe that much- I return the joke. We stay in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the momentary peace that this afternoon-night gives us.

-So...Are you going to the party or not?-

-Yes I think I'll go, I prefer to celebrate now and get depressed when I have to get depressed...Where you able to finish Julia's homework?- I get up from the sofa looking for my bag to get out of here once and for all

-Yes I could, now I have another problem even worse-he walks out.

-Trigonometry? - I joke, turning off the office lights.

-Hopefully, it's a boy in his class with whom she's dating- I open my eyes wide in amazement.

-Wow I didn't expect that, although I'm glad she lives a normal life away from all this shit we deal with every day- I wait as he looks for his things and we get on the elevator to go directly to the garage.

-Yes, I'm glad she's normal, it just bothers me that she's so small and has a boyfriend- I laugh.

-Don't worry, she has to grow up at some point- I get in the car- when you find out the name of the monstrosity, let me know and we'll look for him in the family court databases to see what we are dealing with-

-I'll take your word- we laugh at our craziness as we travel to Rick's pub. A police bar that caters to every officer in the city since 1954.Rick's father opened the bar to spend time with his friends and in a few years it became famous for being open 24 hours a day for police officers who wanted a snack to start the night shift or the first breakfast in the morning.

We parked by the gate, from the row of people at the gate waiting to get in, I'd say Becket managed to get the club out for police use only. I close the door and wait for Dylan to approach, for the first time in many years of work we begin to show our true feelings towards each other in public so he approaches and takes my hand.

We salute little Ricky, the son of Rick Senior, apparently the imagination in this family was taken by the first generations. Little not so little Rick is at the door today, he lets us in without paying admission as the cops here are free to do so, seems like a waste of money but with the amount of beer we drink a night I'd say it's a hell of a lot gain.

We walk down the dance floor hand in hand and approach the bar.

-What do you want to drink?-

-A double whiskey on the rocks please- I scan the place, in the sea of ​​mismatched blue uniforms and the smell of beer in my nostrils makes me feel at home. I believe, without lying, that I have had more birthdays here than anywhere else in this town.

I sigh seeing the happy faces, from time to time one of my colleagues comes over to say hello and congratulate us for having closed this case, every time I hear them I think to myself that it is not closed yet, it is far from being closed, I hope it is a damn coincidence because if it isn't I don't know what I'm going to be capable of. I down the glass of whiskey in one go, feeling the liquid burn my throat. I chat for about 2 hours with my colleagues between drinks and laughter, we dance a little, in the end I'm having fun for a while after so much stress.

I leave the place to get some air, lighting a cigarette as I take a seat on the edge of the sidewalk, crossing my legs on the ground and I let out the smoke that accompanies me. My life flashes before my eyes, my childhood, my mother and father who were always there for me, their arguments even though they thought I was listening, the fake smiles when I enter the room, they always thought I didn't realize dad was sleeping on the couch.

Then the tragic incident, because we can't call it an accident, he knew what he was doing, he knowingly left us.

I inhale the smoke letting my lungs fill with chemicals harmful to my health, smoking is not a habit rooted in my identity but it is something that I hold on to in my darkest moments. The sound of the cell phone takes me out of my thoughts; it is an unknown phone that sends me a search link. I press the blue hyperlink that takes me to a page in the Daily Post, dated tomorrow.

Tonight at 5 a.m. Gibson NewShire County Police released the news that the body of one of its most recognized officers, Aeryne Wolf, was found in the woods on the outskirts of the city by a group of hikers who notified the authorities.

According to the first versions, it is said that the police were suffering a great period of stress in the famous case of the serial killer who terrorizes our townspeople at night. What after a night of alcohol she was seen wandering to the forest where apparently after a quick visit to her home she would have hanged herself next to the waterfall where years before her father had suffered the same outcome with little Aeryne being the one to find her body hanging over Wilmand Falls.

I release the air, held in my lungs releasing the smoke, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up again, I quickly pick up my skeleton from the ground, vigilant to anyone around me, a couple having sex near the alley and a group of friends helping each other not to end up on the ground. The front line not even halfway inside of the bar yet and Rick Jr. already ushering rowdy drunks out the door.

Fear runs through my body making my hands shake uncontrollably, I put out the cigarette on the ground as I walk to the main road in search of a taxi, the same thought that I had when I saw the figure though the window comes back to my mind "listen to the hairs behind your neck, always listen to them Aeryne they will alert you to some danger and get you out of there", instead of ignoring them as I have done since this damn investigation began, listen to them and after boarding a taxi I head home.

I pay the taxi driver worried about my face, the poor man more than once tries to start a conversation with me but I am too absorbed in my thoughts to be able to answer him, I see how he walks away down the street until he turns the corner. I draw the service weapon from my waist which I carried despite being off duty and walk along the path that leads directly to the backyard of the house, I walk slowly as stealthily as I can while looking for any sign of someone outside my home. I open the kitchen door in total silence, I check that all the windows in the room are closed, the knives are in place and nothing seems to be missing from the room.

I continue my way to the living room where nothing is as it was when I left the house this morning, the books scattered on the floor, the lamp that was next to the sofa is now totally destroyed, fireplace and the photos of my parents are totally burned in the fire that a crackles in the fireplace revealing shattered pieces of those memories, I run my hand along the wall until I find the power button, the lights illuminate the room allowing to see in one of the central walls another of those phrases that open the doors to Dante's hell.

"...Oh you who enters here abandon all hope!"

The sound of the landline phone takes me out of my confused head, I take the device without stopping guarding the environment knowing that in any case someone can attack me.

-Wolf here- I murmur with a broken voice.

-Aeryne, where are you? I've been calling you on your cell phone-

-No, I don't know where it is, I must have lost it- I support my back against the wall.

-You must come to the police station immediately; Elizabeth gave the address and the name of the murderers to Becket, but failed to give him the name of the last victim until she was sure that no one was going to be able to save her.... Aeryne the next victim...-he sounds so far away.

-It's me- the incessant sound of a car engine has been heard for minutes at the door- Conte is at my place, it will be quite obvious when you arrive, investigate how it was possible that he managed to get out, or who was the one who helped him do it, there is someone within the police who is playing dirty, I must go, please be careful- I run the corridor to dad's room where is old desk was. I take a small set of keys from the pot by the window of it and go inside the place again, drawing my gun in search of something suspicious that I have to defend myself against.

I leave my badge next to the service weapon on the large desk that occupies almost the entire width of the room, memories flash through my mind, my father working while I played with him at being the police officer who arrested him for eating all the homemade cookies mom baked.

So many stories, so much life lived in that house that will be gone forever after tonight, I can feel it. All a backpack with enough cash for at least a month to live, documents and a false driver's license that I used to enter clubs in my youth, and the revolver that my father always kept locked in the blue cabinet behind his back. I check that it has the pertinent bullets and I keep it in the belt of my pants, I take a piece of paper and the silver gray pen that they gave me as a gift my first day as a detective and I write what I feel is my farewell.

"Thank you for everything, as you know, tragedy plagued my life from an early age, at times when I was not even aware of what was happening, all the paths I took led me to this place where I do not regret having stayed. Everything has to end, and that it ends where it started gives it the finishing touch almost like a romance novel.

Vinicio Conte is the main author of the massacre that occurred in this town in recent days, a group of misfits who could not face the reality of their actions took me to the breaking point where I find myself today, do not think for a second that I intend to commit suicide, everything you hear that does not come out of my mouth is a lie.

Aeryne Wolf, Official Detective New Shire Police Department."

Tears fall down my cheeks, the frame that I proudly hung on the wall in front of the desk that holds my diploma up seems empty of love and emotion, I am not a diploma or a photo of graduates with my classmates, I am much more and I hope you remember me for that.

I leave the room and walk with firm steps through the house and open the door of the porch where Mr. Vinicio Conte is waiting for me leaning on the door of the truck that was previously in the garage of the old shack in the woods.

-Detective, for a moment I thought that you had been cowardly enough to run away-

-Conte, I think that truck does not belong to you- I firmly hold the handles of the backpack that hangs on my back.

-I think it does, please get in the car, let me tell you a story- I walk slowly along the front of the truck until I reach the passenger seat and I get in without taking my backpack off my back, it's uncomfortable, but easy to carry if I have to escape.

In silence he drives up to Little Peak, after finding my father dead hanging on the branches I never went back to that forest and the family weekend cabin was completely abandoned, or so I thought until I was proven otherwise.

He drives in silence until we reach the cabin, I get out of the truck feeling the weight of years of resentment and pain accumulating in my chest, the desire to cry crowds my eyes but not by chance will I give Vinicio the pleasure of seeing me in that state, after all he is a ruthless killer, a mastermind of evil, although it seems cliché and I will not give him the thought that he is breaking me into a thousand pieces inside, although that is really happening.

We walked through the forest for a while before entering the waterfall, it is smaller than I remembered it, the ground is still just as muddy and the scar from my father's suicide is still marked on that branch that still tells it to grow after having it cut to lower it.

-How is everything? Does it look familiar to you?-

-What are we doing here Vinicio?-

-We are here to tell you a story, everyone thinks of the harm caused to the victims but no one thinks of the harm they caused me, how they damaged my story forever- he pulls out a gun from the waistband of the jeans he is wearing and He points at me- I'm going to ask you to please leave your backpack on the ground, you won't need the weapon that you have hidden in your waist, besides, I just want to chat- a violent smile appears on your face, without further doings I do what he tells me to, I leave the backpack and the gun on the porch of the old vacation cabin my parents had and we go in.

Memories hit my mind in a colossally, all the furniture is in its place only corroded by the pass of time and the elements, he makes me take a seat in my mother's chair that is in front of my father's chair where he is already sitting.

-I'll start with the story, but first let me show you something- he leaves the gun in his lap on the sofa, puts his hand in the back pocket of his pants, I place my hands outstretched on the armrests of the chair waiting for something to happen, As I do this he gingerly pulls out a piece of time-worn paper. It passes me what I recognize as the photo paper folded in half, I open it completely observing the printed image carefully, my mother's smile is what stands out the most in the photograph, she is embracing a man whom I do not recognize, the sparkle in his eyes betrays the happiness of the moment. I check the inscription on the back of the paper hoping to find some clue as to the date it was made. Because of how similar my mother is to what I remember her, it seems to be from when I was around 10 years old.

There is nothing else written there except for a small phrase written by hand with the ink already erased by the passing of the years.

"...the first love..."

-I don't recognize this man, why are you showing me this?-

-That man, detective, is my father and the woman in the photo is my mother- I shake my head trying to process the twisted joke he just told.

-Please, Mr. Conte, this is clearly a set-up, my mother was always faithful to my father, besides that she is your mother, it would incur the fact that you are my brother and that is not a good joke- I get up from my place threatening to which he takes the gun and points it at me.

-Sit down sister, we have a lot to discuss- I raise my hands in surrender but I don't go back to my place.

-No matter what you tell me, Vinicio, I'm not your sister, we're too different to be- he pushes me roughly on the seat and I look at him angrily.

-Our parents met for a date for lovers a long time ago, did our mother never tell you the story? One day when she was working, he arrived at the shop and attended him, the two fell in love in an instant...-

-That's not what happened, how did you find out all this?-

-I already told you, our precious mother has been lying to us all her life, preferring your filthy family over us, my father was destroyed after she abandoned him on the same day of his birthday, the same day she gave him this book- take the leather cover book on the table that I had never seen before - my father came to this country looking for peace after the war and ended up dying of grief because of a heartless woman, who only used him to satisfy carnal desires to which her husband was not up to the task-

-Don't talk about my mother, you have no idea what kind of person she was, you don't know her-anger was boiling inside me.

-Did she ever told you why your father made the coward decision to commit suicide?- The words get stuck in my throat, no coherent answer comes to mind as to how he knows so much about my past and this cabin.

-You see? No smart answers now, no little sister, our mother was a whore who created such resentment in my father that he confessed to your father what happened, that I didn't even have the opportunity to be baptized since they wouldn't accepted bastard children in Catholic churches, he told him everything in great detail, how mom lived, like that supposed son who was born dead in the hospital before you were born, never died and who was given to his biological father while he was abandoned by his mother, years passed of agony for my father...-

-All this situation just because your father was spiteful? All the deaths you caused just because the little problems you dragged from childhood with your mommy didn't leave you alone once you grew up?... oh you are incredible - I exhale laughing at this situation - you are so wrapped up in your hatred you only managed to sink more and more Vinicio - I get up from my place ready to leave- I will not continue listening to this torture just because this madman comes up with it-

-STAY WHERE YOU ARE!- he shouts.

- Or else what? Are you going to kill me or are you going to fill my head with lies like you did with my father so that he would commit suicide? Listen to me, little brother, I'm not my mother or my father, you're not going to manipulate me as you please, so if you don't plan to kill me, let me go right now-I demand.

In the carelessness of his walk from one side to the other I throw myself on his back trying to hold the gun. His hands tense and I manage to knock him off the edge of the kitchen door so the Glock falls to the floor away from us. I climb on his back like a horse wrapping my arms around his neck to lock him and leave him unconscious, before he passes out completely he manages to walk with his back to the door and stamp me against it where the latch hits my kidneys, I fall to the ground sore trying to catch my breath, my legs feel heavy and my whole body throbs with pain. I see him run to the kitchen, I take the glass lamp, a gift from my grandmother for my parents' wedding day, a family heirloom according to her; I managed to land the blow on his head leaving him stunned again.

I reach the kitchen counter, I grab a butcher knife to defend myself as I run to the gun, his hands grab my ankle and I fall to the ground face first without even being able to stop my fall with my hands. My chin hits the tile-colored ceramic floor loudly, leaving me very dizzy. I instinctively kick hitting his hands until I can drag myself across the kitchen floor. I'm holding it in my hand when I feel the blade I'd previously used to defend myself dig into my left thigh causing a bloodcurdling scream of pain.

I hear police car sirens in the distance, I think, I just hope it's not a hallucination. I return again to my current situation when the weapon is wielded in the hand of my dearest brother, I crawl until my back hits the pan cabinets, if I take out the dagger I could bleed to death right now and give Conte the satisfaction of killing me, But I don't want to die either. I giggle stupidly at my thoughts, I'm already rambling.

-Let's go back to the beginning little sister, in the place where it all began, the weekend house that your father bought to spend the weekends with the family that later became the love nest of our mother and my father, the place where everything began, it is the place where everything will end- he positions himself on top of me, his body covering mine completely, with the adrenaline pumping through my body I take the knife out of my leg and immediately plunge it into the entrails of my dear little brother I twist him to deal as much damage as possible, before he can stop the entire weapon in his hands, and walk away.

The footsteps of people around the cabin are present, I drag myself to the sofa where I fall pale, my body going into shock, before passing out I manage to see the sergeant and Dylan enter the cabin, wrapped in their bulletproof vests they scan the area before to get close to me.

-Aeryne, what happened to you?- my partner approaches once again to save me as he has done so many times before. I hold onto his shoulders as I stand up feeling the comforting warmth of his body, the boss' footsteps approaching the living room area with Vinicio Conte in his arms.

-I'll take him to the truck, don't move from here I'll call reinforcements on the way- the Sergeant dictates and that's how it's done. We nod at the same time as I return my body to the couch, a grimace of pain forming on my face as I try to calm my heavy breathing.

-Are you feeling well?- He places a tourniquet on my leg with the scarf I left the police station with to protect me from the cold. I instinctively try to move my leg away because of the pain caused by the knot on the wound, but the hands of Dylan holds them in place.

-How did you find out I was here?- I whisper, wiping the perspiration from my forehead.

-The boss traced your cell phone signal to here- 

Now...that doesn't make any sense.

-That doesn't make sense Dylan, you called me at home and I told you that I had lost my cell phone in the speed of my flight- we stayed recalculating the situation for a few seconds until we understood.

Holly shit.

He had been in front of us the whole time and we didn't saw him, the person inside the police station who helped Conte had always been the sergeant. With the thirst for revenge coursing through my body and the adrenaline pumping at a thousand per hour throughout my body, I get up from the place and run to the back door hoping to see some sign of the two of them. I take the gun that is still on the backpack on the porch and start to trace the footprints of the two along the path to the waterfall.

-Aeryne you can't go after them it's dangerous, it's dark and you're still hurt-

-He's my brother and he killed my parents Dylan, he killed them both out of sorrow and hatred, that's why I need to go. I'll go with your support or not- he stops dead in his tracks internalizing the news I just gave him. I continue along the path to the waterfall in silence, after a few seconds the dark-haired man joins my search, we follow the journalist's blood trails all over the place, the damned man zigzags trying to throw us off the scent but the boss here is Conte, he Said it himself, there is only one place where this can end.

Right where all started.

Instead of following the trail of blood directly, I cut the path to the waterfall, my hands sweat, the cold does not help much, especially for walking, not feeling my leg because of the little blood that runs through it, I hit myself with branches and bushes that they only manage to hurt me even more, I stop for a few seconds to take a breath, the cold of the night permeates my bones but it helps to numb the pain a little.

I hold on to Dylan's forearms to keep from putting all my weight on my bruised leg. For a few seconds I imagine myself in his arms on a bed embraced and covered watching a movie and eating popcorn, what a beautiful image, I smile feeling the warmth of the scene fill my heart with courage and strength to move forward. I hug him tight, we stay in silence for a few seconds sharing the sound of our galloping hearts, once recovered we return to the road, after a few more meters we see the clearing where the river becomes a waterfall.

I raise the hilt of the gun in front of my face, Dylan's left hand holds me close to his body to give me support. We reach the banks of the waterfall where Vinicio is sitting next to a rock and the sergeant as his escort points us.

-Come on detective, who is going to believe that a decorated sergeant like him is going to be a traitor, should better think about your strategies- Conte's voice fills the air.

-It's the truth, traitors must carry the full weight of justice on their shoulders, just like murderers, Mr. Conte- I spit the words out of my mouth with disgust.

-Detective please, let's lower our weapons and talk like civilized people-

-You did it on purpose, you got me into this shady game so as not to get me out, you just threw dirt on me- he growled.

-A woman does not belong to a police station unless it is to be booked as a prostitute-

-Like his mother- Vinicio jokes.

-Shut up once and for all!- shot of fury and rage, a well-aimed shot on his shoulder breaking in a piercing scream, he rolls on the ground, the explosion of the shot stains my face with blood.

-Put that down! Right now- Dylan holds the gun trying to get it out of my hands, I push him away when I see the sergeant raise his service weapon pointing at him, I shoot him in the chest killing him instantly. Dylan's voice feels far away, I fall to the ground letting the gun fall out of my hands. The dark-haired man opens his eyes without being able to explain what he saw, my friend and colleague holds his hair walking from one side of the place to the other.

-I wasn't going to let him hurt you- I murmur trying to get closer to my brother

-Aeryne, what did you do? - He repeats, holding me to get away from the dead man.

I abruptly separate myself from his side to drag myself closer to the side of the multiple murderer in front of my eyes, the tears mix with the taste of blood on my lips, they flood my eyes without leaving a clear view of his body, I turn him face up to observe him, a sly smile escapes from his face, he opens his lips revealing the blood that floods his mouth and whispers his last words.

-We end where we started; the original sin- limbo is represented in my mind, those who are condemned to wander eternally since they did not receive the sacrament of baptism before dying.

I clean his face of mud and garbage, with difficulty I drag his body to the shore, his inert body is the maximum evidence that the hatred and bitterness of the parents end up permeating the soul of the children. Clean once again and with a kiss on the forehead I let his body fall off the shore and be dragged by the current, my sobs merge with the sound of the waterfall, we are matter that evolves, I always believed that it was so, let's hope that its evolution is to be happy. Dylan at my side holds my shoulders as I watch the blood stain the water at the end of it.

We end where we started.

[nighttbound]

I am thinking LOUDLY about No Heart. No coherent thoughts just appreciating a pretty old wizard who is a cranky jerk. His energy is so terrible. I love it. ❤️

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 39

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: boy, did i take a lot of time to post this but it’s the last one and i am on the ground crying. thank you so much for supporting this work. i am so lucky for having all of you xx

Bucky woke up with an odd cold feeling in the spot where Y/N usually used to lie. He rubbed the sleep of his eyes, hand roaming around the bed to find her hot body but nothing; he was alone in bed. He groaned, moving out of the bed as he kicked into protective mode. She shouldn’t be up this early at least not after he’d kept her up all night and if she was awake, it could be for no good reason. His hand blindly found the door as the other looked for something to wear so he wouldn’t walk full on commando in the living room and scare the neighbour who lived in the building next to his. Opening the door, he found her surrounded by papers, her laptop laying on top of her legs, glasses slightly and slowly sliding down the bridge of her nose. Bucky leaned against the door ledge, a stupid lovesick smirk on his lips as he examined her. Somehow, she had managed to find her underwear, the cutest little white, blue and pink corset and matching panties covered by a white dressing gown which just looked delightfully sinful with his hickeys and bite marks spread across her tender skin. He shouldn’t feel so cocky about marking her, yet the mere sight of it woke up an ego like pride which made him want to show her around to everyone who’d bother look. Yet, another part of him wanted to keep her all to himself. Obviously he knew he couldn’t, she was more of the world than she was of him and he would always be madly in love with her no matter what.

    - Mrs. Barnes, you are interrupting our honeymoon period. - he joked, walking behind the couch to kiss her temple. - What are you doing up at 5AM? Are you gonna go on a run with me? 

    - I’m just looking at my contract. - she closed her laptop with a sigh. - Iron clad contract, can’t believe I signed it. 

    - Princess, it was your first agency. You couldn’t have possibly known.

    - My dad is a lawyer, my siblings are lawyers, my grandparents were lawyers. How did I let this happen? Why didn’t I haggle? Why don’t we have a prenup?

   - Your mum is a chef, maybe you took after her. - he joked more to himself than to her. - Also what does a prenup has to do with it? Are you planning on divorcing me already?

   - When I sent the contract over to my dad he asked if I had gotten a prenup when I got married and I know he likes you but he kept yapping about a prenup and how smart women get prenups and I can’t believe I don’t have a prenup and that I signed this contract. - she spoke as fast as a freight train, not even taking a slight break. Bucky noticed the tea cup by her side which, judging by her quick speak, probably wasn’t filled with tea.

   - Princess, did you have some of my coffee?

   - I did, I needed to be awake. 

   - It’s extra strong coffee, doll. You barely drink coffee, it can’t possibly be ... uhm ...

   - I am jittery. - she interrupted him. - I’ve read this a thousand times and unless another agency fights my agency for a contract with me, I am stuck on ensemble for the rest of my life and it’s not like agencies are fighting for good old me.

   - Okay ... - he took her laptop away from her placing it somewhere on the ground before wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her on top of his lap. She leaned her head against his chest, cuddling against his still warm torso from the heat int he bedroom. - Listen princess, you need to take your mind out of that. It’s no use re-reading that contract over and over again.

   - My career is over and I’m not good at anything else.

   - Your career is not over. - his hand caressed her shoulder, pulling her hair away from it before placing a small kiss to her shoulder. She merely cuddled against him, those contract words tattooed on her mind. - There’s no way that contract is legal after he’s charged with harassing you, princess. You just need to relax now. 

   - I don’t know.

   - Let’s go to Florence. - he bite her shoulder playfully. - Let’s go. What’s stopping us?

   - I don’t know ... we can’t go.

   - Don’t make me use the husband card. - he pointed at her playfully. - You’re not gonna want to be here during his trial anyway, precious. 

   - Maybe you’re right. - she leaned onto him, her arms wrapping against his torso. - You really think I’m not over?

   - I would never let that happen, would I? 

10 years later

Bucky felt the sun kiss his skin, the early yet soft wind of March passing by the quiet streets of London as he walked down the street in dark jeans and a equally dark blue henley. He stood by the little white building, sunglasses on as the bell rang and suddenly the boast of laughter erupted from inside the building followed by thousands of little legs running outside. He remained stoic until his smile pulled slightly up as between so many children, he spotted the thick brown curls of his daughter who rushed down the stairs in her little uniform and ladybug bag. She stopped at the bottom off the stairs, looking around until she spotted her dad. A smile, identical to her father’s, formed in her face as she rushed towards Bucky with open arms. He pretended to step back as she collided against him, before pulling her up and kissing her cheek. The 4 year old giggled, her arms wrapping around her dad’s neck as he walked away from her nursery. 

    - We learned about the letters in our names today, daddy! - she started to relate what she had happened during her day immediately after they were far away from the crowd.

    - No way, ladybug. 

    - Yeah. My name has a B, just like yours, daddy. - Bucky knew he should tell his daughter at some point that his name was not Bucky and that it was merely a nickname but he couldn’t bear tell her. She just looked so happy. 

    - Thank god we match, right ladybug?

She nodded her head, cuddling against her dad as he continued to walk in the affluent area of London. The weather was nice, a good omen for the big event of the evening. He was so proud as he saw the theatre walls with a photo of his wife, her name printed with the label Tony Award Winner under it. She deserved it, she deserved it so much and he could not even express in words how proud he was of her. The move back to her hometown had been a difficult one but seeing everything going right, seeing how happy she was ... god, he could swell up with pride. 

He went around the theatre, finding the backstage door and entering it. His daughter jumped off, little eyes looking around with so much wonder. He was almost sure she’d end up like his mother, a little star. The orchestra tuning could be heard from the walls, people and cast were running around preparing for the opening night. Blair held up his hand, pushing him through the crowd and up the stairs where the dressing rooms were.

  - Mumma! - she walked into her mother’s opened dressing room. Y/N dropped whatever she was doing to go hug her daughter, immediately preparing her with lipstick stained kisses. - Mumma, my name has a B like daddy.

  - No way. - she smiled, leaning her forehead against hers. - Ain’t daddy a lucky man?

  - Daddy is a lucky man, alright. - he chuckled, walking up to his two girls. - You look precious, princess.

  - I’m nervous. - he muttered towards her husband, who merely smiled before kissing her. - I’m serious.

  - Well, every time you tell me you’re nervous, something great happens, doesn’t it? - he looked at his daughter; the last time she had told him she was nervous was before Blair was born. - Me and Blair are gonna be there, watching you be splendid. 

  - I wanna go see Chuck. - Blair jumped away from his mother too, running to the next door dressing room and leaving the two lovers alone in the dressing room covered in red flowers, all curtesy of Bucky. The minute he had the theatre address, he started sending roses, lilies and even more every single day. 

  - Wish me luck? - she put her hands on top of his shoulders, almost slowly dancing with him.

  - You don’t need any luck. You’re always perfect.

  - You’re extremely biased, Mr. Barnes. 

  - No, I just have an extremely talented wife, Mrs. Barnes. 

  - 5 minute call. - the voice came through the voice on the speaker.

  - Love me even if I fail? 

  - Love you ‘til the end of time. 

taglist: @disasterbi​ @lookiamtrying​ @buckysteveloki-me​ @americasass81​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @lostinthebeans​ @mariahthelioness29​ @oh-nohoney @peaches-roses-sins​ @theadorasabditory​ @sipsteacasually​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @booktease21​ @noiralei​ @learisa​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​ @uglipotata72829​ @naturalthrone22​ @husherstan​ @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624​ @itsallyscorner​ @chipilerendi​ @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @niki-is-a-thing​ @cynic-spirit​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​​ @buckyswillow​​

[flowerbloom-arts]

Day 11; Aunt Jane

Jane stood up from her table proudly from her table and tapped her champagne glass with a fork to gain the guests' attention.

"Everyone, please, may I have your attention?" She said loudly, the guests quieted down and looked in her direction, Jane cleared her throat "First of all, with great moominish hospitality I would like to thank every single one of you for attending this charity event, it is a great honour to see each and every one and I sincerely hope you have had a splendid time here!"

The guests cheered.

"Secondly, I'm pleased to announce that we have raised a hundred grand for the Lost and Foundlings Charity for Misfortunate Children! May our future generations prosper without the need for orphanage institutions and live with families willing to truly care for them!" Jane announced happily and raised her glass, the rest raised a glass and cheered.

Jane smiled at the whole scene and felt really nice for once, the feeling faded as she lowered the champagne glass and looked inside of it, slowly noticing a strange but all too familiar foreboding nagging at the back of her head, she turned her gaze to the charity founder sitting next her, who was swiveling his glass in pleased contemplation. Certainly not a good sign.

Jane squinted at the fuzzy and took a cautious sip of champagne.

*

The party was over and all that were left was Jane and the Charity Founder.

"This isn't going to be a scam, right?" Jane asked firmly and crossed her arms.

"Hm-? What- No! Nooo..." the Charity Founder said insincerely as he was gathering the bags of money.

"The sound of your voice very much says otherwise, sir," Jane replied.

"Of course it's not a scam, ms. Moomansson, do I look like a man who doesn't care about orphans?" he said and put a paw to his chest.

"... On second thought, yes," she said bluntly.

"Then why did you agree in the first place??" The Charity Founder asked, baffled.

"Because you weren't blatantly waving red flags when I agreed to this! As in you literally took out red flags to wave at a guest and hit them in the head in the process!"

"... You saw that-?"

"Ugh, goodness, why on this fine earth did I agree to host a charity event for a charity run by a greedy rodent?" Jane asked herself and rubbed her eyes under her glasses.

The Fuzzy looked around and decided to answer that clearly rhetorical question "I think it was something about your nephew...?"

"Yeah, yeah... I did it in honour of my dumb... Idiotic nephew... Who showed the bare minimum of kindness after he tried hiding from me... And made me cry because it's the first time anyone complimented me in years..." She growled quietly and rubbed her forehead, she inhaled deeply and mumbled "Goodness, I'm so pathetic..."

"You- you know could give you the donations for yourself if that-"

"No," Jane snapped "I don't need the money, I need you to keep your word, alright? Use that money to found an actual charity and give it to those it was meant for. If you don't do that, there will be dire consequences for both me and you, mostly you, so get out and get on or else I'll kick you all the way to Ireland, understand?"

The Fuzzy stood quiet for a moment to process what she had said "... How are you going to kick me that far-?"

"You do not want to test me. Now scram before I change my mind on being merciful to a rat like you!" Jane threatened and stomped on the Fuzzy's foot with her umbrella.

"AH-! Y-yes madam!" The Fuzzy saluted and ran out of the room with the bags of money.

Jane watched as he ran out and pinched the bridge between her eyes with a heavy sigh once he left. She adjusted her glasses and looked up at the ceiling of the room. The cold emptiness of such a large house hadn't felt so terrible since her family's... Rapture. Moomin Valley reminded her what even a semblance of warmth and good company felt like, in comparison, home felt like a random house again.

[pastel-in-devildom]

Love is a tricky issue in the criminal world. Falling in love could possibly lead one to their death. So imagine everyone's surprise when a baker/tailor unknowingly has the seven heads of one of the most powerful yakuza in japan wrapped around her finger.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: this fanfic has my original characters; this is also on my archive of our own account; this fanfic is inspired by the yakuza!au that belongs to @requiem-for-the-left-hand

WARNING: original characters, yakuza au, somewhat slow-burning romance, angst, criminal and illegal activity, michael bashing, lgbtq+, fluff, gun violence, blood, gore, kidnapping, human trafficking, and several more

Words: 2,512

CUPIDITY (CHAPTER ONE: CASINO NIGHT)

NEXT CHAPTER

“Alright, sir! Your total is now 1500 yen,” Seraphina told the customer in front of her with a bright smile. The man handed her the money and walked out with his bag of baked goods in hand. “Have a splendid day!”

Just as the man exited the bakery, two more people entered. “Hello! Welcome to Euphorium Bakery-” Seraphina stopped mid-sentence when she saw a familiar face. The new customer was a young woman around Seraphina’s age and had a slim and lean figure. Her bright maroon hair in braids stops mid-back. Faded scars all on her neck and arms. A black and white striped, sleeveless shirt to go with her pastel pink skirt. Her pastel pink leather jacket is coated with pins of owls and butterflies. This was the matriarch of the Zetsubou family, Lilith herself.

“Seraphina!”

“Oh hey Lilith. What can I get for you?” Lilith placed her hand on her chin, pretending to think as she’s looking at all the products surrounding her. “Hmm, wow. So many delicious options to choose from. I wonder what I’m feeling about having today.”

Playfully crossing her arms, Seraphina watched her friend pretend to be indecisive when picking something. Lilith, ignoring her gaze, finally got up and smiled brightly. “I have finally made my decision.”

“Oh? And what can I get for you?”

“Two melon pans, please. As for flavors, surprise me as always.”

Seraphina raised an eyebrow at this request from Lilith but shrugged it off. “Alright, that will cost you 450 yen.” After receiving the money, she gave Lilith two melon pans that she picked at random.

After biting into the first melon pan, which was chocolate-flavored, “I swear, you guys have to be the best bakery in the area. Especially since this is a yakuza-friendly bakery,” she had whispered in the last part so that no one else would hear her. There weren’t many businesses that were okay with the yakuza being their customers, employees, regulars. Luckily, streets and certain areas throughout Japan, such as here in Jiyugaoka, are considered to be safe havens.

Plus, the bakery owner is a retired yakuza, so that’s enough proof for others.

“Oh, before I forget! Seraphina, what time does your shift end today?,” she then asked. Seraphina looked at the clock to her right, seeing that it currently read 3 o’clock. “It ends at 7. Why?” Lilith quietly squealed, “Mammon has finally invited me to one of his casinos tonight and he said I could bring a friend with me.”

Mammon, the patriarch of the Donyoku family, was the second oldest senior member of the Jigoku-kai as well as Lilith’s second-oldest brother. He is the one in charge of the gambling businesses and casinos that are under the Jigoku clan's control. Despite appearing richer and more well-off than most of his siblings, there are rumors that Mammon acquired some unpaid debts over the years and has yet to pay.

Seraphina blinked for a second before asking, “You want me to come with you to one of Mammon-san’s casinos?” Lilith only nodded, barely holding in her excitement. “Wait, I thought he said you weren’t allowed to go to his casinos.”

“Oh, he did.” The matriarch nonchalantly confirmed, “but unfortunately for him, I have an advantage on my side. Which is being the youngest and only sister in the family. Pull out the puppy eyes and Mams is pretty much putty in my hand. Took me three weeks to crack him, but it was worth it.” Seraphina had to stop herself from laughing on the clock. She knows about this advantage that younger siblings have over their older ones. Hell, she’s used it over the years.

Lilith rocked her body, her violet eyes still on Seraphina, waiting for an answer on the side.

What does Seraphina have to do tonight? Besides taking care of Meli and checking in for any new tailor commissions? One night at the casino wouldn’t hurt her. She only sighed and softly smiled at her best friend, “Alright, alright. I’ll come with you.”

The maroon-haired young woman quietly squealed out of delightment, clapping and bouncing where she stood in immense joy. “You are the best. Now what time should I pick you up to go

“I should be ready to leave around eight o’clock.”

“Eight o’clock it is! See you then~!” Lilith said in a sing-songy voice before leaving the bakery with her two melon pans. Seraphina, as she watched her best friend, heard her name being called out from someone from the back.

“Seraphina. Switch with Sugai back here. It’s time for his break!”

“Coming,” she left the front counter to go help out in the back.

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In the black car, Seraphina fiddled with her fingers, looking out her window and watching cars pass by. She had on a baby pink belted jumpsuit, her sleeves, back, and upper chest decorated with matching lace. Quickly tapping her muted silver block heels on the carpeting as Seraphina looked out the window, watching cars and people go by in the blink of an eye.

“Hey,” she pulled herself away from the window, hearing her friend’s voice. Lilith was wearing a plain black silk bow tie blouse and cream mini skirt. “Are you feeling alright?” Her hand was placed on Seraphina’s thigh, her violet eyes filled with concern and worry.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

“You sure? Look, we can just skip the casino altogether and hang out somewhere else,” Lilith reassured Seraphina. Sure, she wants to have fun at the casino, but she also doesn’t want her best friend to feel forced to come with her. “Lils, I really am fine.” She placed her hand above Lilith’s and gave it a squeeze. “I’ve just never been to a casino before, much less an illegal one. I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all.”

Lilith was conflicted. On one hand, both would be experiencing their first trip to a casino and were overjoyed to share this moment with one of her friends. But on the other hand, she wanted to say screw the casino and yell at the driver to turn back to her home and just have a girls' night in with Seraphina. But, in the end, she decided to tell her, “Alright fine. But,” she booped her pink-haired best friend’s nose, “promise me this. If either of us doesn’t feel comfortable, we grab the other and get the hell out of there. Deal?”

“Deal.”

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Once they arrived at the casino Crow’s Feet, the two girls took a moment to look around, not believing their eyes at the glamorous sight. It had two floors with casino workers and players all around without a care in the world, obviously knowing what they were doing here. The front side of the second floor looked similar to a pachinko parlor, people sitting in individual chairs with some of them having buckets filled with silver balls. They somehow managed to get some chips, each getting about 10,000 yen worth of chips.

Lilith wasted no time and started to play some games. She started to safely bet, not to lose money just starting out. Seraphina stood by her side and watched her play her games, cheering her on whether she won or lost. All in all, the two had some fun.

Soon after, Seraphina sat by a bar near a table where Lilith was busy playing her card game. She ordered a lemon sour and quietly drank it while watching Lilith and everyone around them enjoying themselves. So many games she could play and she really doesn't know where to start. Plus, Seraphina was sort of scared of losing any money that she would need for next week.

That was when she heard him.

“The hell are ya doing here?”

“Hmm?” Seraphina looked up to the familiar voice above her. Her honey brown eyes were met with blue-yellow eyes. The man staring down at her was proudly wearing a hideously shiny suit you would only see in movies, with a black stamp of a rose-like symbol on the left collar. Only one of his buttons was done, the rest were undone. His yakuza tattoos were exposed for the rest of the casino to see. A thick, gold chain necklace around his neck.

“Hello, Mammon-san,” the woman said cheerfully, not at all scared of the man above her. Meanwhile, the bartender and other customers around her were afraid to even look in his direction, avoiding any form of eye contact.

“Oi, I asked you a question!”

“Lilith told me about you letting her come here and she asked me to come with her,” Seraphina explained while taking a sip of her lemon sour. “I wanted to come here out of curiosity."

It makes sense for Lilith to ask Seraphina to come here. If she were to ask someone like Azrael to come with, then they would most likely report it to Lucifer, who has openly expressed his disapproval of Lilith’s endless request to go. And it’s likely that he’ll be even more disapproving if word of Mammon’s eventual caving in to her demands reaches him. Yeah, like he wants to deal with that after the day he just had.

He pulled out the chair right beside Seraphina and sat on it. Without saying anything, a beer bottle quickly appeared in front of him by the scared bartender.

“Aren’t ya gonna play anything?" he finally asked her.

She only shrugged, “Eh. Maybe.” Twirling her drink, watching the lemon wedge move around along with the ice. “Call it casino night jitters. That and I’m a little scared of losing any money I’m gonna need for next week.”

Mammon rolled his eyes at Seraphina before looking at her. “Pfft … don’t worry too much about losing a bunch of games. Losing money is part of the casino experience. Ya can’t expect to win every game you play. Ya have to expect some loss coming to a casino.”

“Is that why you have debts?” Mammon dryly laughed at the snarky question. He quickly took a couple of gulps of his beer before slamming it down, then his head rested on his left arm. He then glared at Seraphina, who looked rather bored and unaffected by the glare from him.

The other patrons at the minibar were ready for the patriarch to explode at the woman or to raise his hand at her. But instead, he looked away at the last minute and grumbled to himself, which caused Seraphina to chuckle a little bit. At this point, everyone surrounding them was watching the two of them with confusion and shock by what they were witnessing. How did this woman not show any amount of fear at the man? And why is the Great Donyoku Mammon holding an innocent conversation with this woman with no problem? Did she owe him money and he’s being nice as a front? Did he owe her money and he’s trying to lower his debt to her? Whatever they may think, none of them may ever really know the answer.

“Sera~,” Lilith ran towards her with some more chips in her hands, only slowing down once she saw her brother next to her best friend. “Hey, Mams. I didn’t know you would be here tonight.”

He muttered under his breath, “That was the plan.” Ignoring the remark, Lilith suddenly came up with an idea. “Well since you’re here, maybe you could be our lovely casino guide. Free of charge, of course.”

“If you’re up for it, of course,” Seraphina added on.

Looking at both of the girls, Mammon sighed and groaned in exhaustion. He got up from his chair and used his fingers with his white hair, “Consider you two lucky that the Great Mammon took time out of his busy night to help you out.

His sister playfully rolled her eyes at his comment. Yeah right, his busy night her ass. If he’s at one of his casinos, then he has no plans. But she decided to keep quiet to avoid embarrassing him in public. She’ll wait until they’re in private. She thinks that she knows why he reluctantly agreed.

The three of them left the bar and explored the rest of the casino. Lilith and Seraphina played some games, mainly pachinko and card games. Of course, they won some games and made some more money along the way but also lost some money. That was the night that Lilith learned about Seraphina’s talent at winning card games.

Meanwhile, Mammon decided to play games not too far from them, but sadly, his unlucky streak reared its ugly head for most of the night. He lost about half of his money at the end.

Around midnight, everyone traded in their winnings for money. Lilith and Seraphina both won around 10,000,000 yen each but Mammon had 46,500 yen in the end.

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Mammon decided to join the girls in driving them to their homes, saying that he wanted to make sure that they wouldn’t get hurt because Lucifer would have his head if anything happened to either girl. The car went to Jiyugaoka first and stopped by Seraphina’s apartment complex. “Thanks again for tonight, you guys. It was pretty fun for my first time at a casino,” Seraphina thanked the siblings for the final time tonight. “Again it’s no problem,” Mammon grumbled, still salty over his endless loss tonight.

“Oh! Before I forget,” Seraphina took out some of her winnings, around 500,000 yen, and gave it to Mammon, “Here. For dealing with both us and your losses.” The white-haired yakuza looked between the yen and the girl who was holding it out for him. “Aren’t you … going to miss any of this?” Seraphina only shook her head, “I don’t need this much money and I wouldn’t know what to do with all of it. Besides, you need it much more than I do.” Eventually, he hesitantly grabbed the money out of Seraphina’s hand and muttered a “Thank you” under his breath. Both he and Lilith watched as Seraphina got out of the car and entered her complex, waving to them before closing the door behind her.

During the rest of the car ride, Mammon’s sapphire eyes never left the money that Seraphina had given him. What she told him still rang in his mind. You need it much more than I do.

Has anyone ever given him money just because? With no strings attached or any expecting him to pay them back? He unknowingly lets out a small smile, looking at the generous money in his hands.

Lilith watched as her brother smiled at the kind gesture. That was when she plastered a smirk on her face. “Aww, does Big Brother Mammon have a crush?”

Finally looking up ever since Seraphina left, Mammon blurted out, “I do not!”

“Oh, why? Then why are you smiling?”

Mammon sputtered, thinking of something to defend himself. “W-Well yeah, of course, I’m smiling. I mean, I scored some free money. Maybe that friend of yours is good for something after all.”

Lilith chuckled, “Whatever you say, Mammon.”

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Alice arrives at the safe-house.

This Chapter surely was a challenge, but I really like how the ending turned out. :3

@whumptywhumpdump @ashintheairlikesnow @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen

CW: wuhmpee threatens another whumpee, Harvey tries though he really does, fucky head space of whumpee, past dehumanization

The first rays of dawn break through gray autumn clouds as Nathan‘s car pulls into the driveway of Lee Yang‘s old two story farmhouse.

Alice watches the clouds, their belly‘s, dark rumbling cotton puffs, carrying a storm to come. His nose presses against the cold backseat window. Five snores next to him. The car‘s radio turns of with a quiet beep and Nathan flashes a bright smile over his shoulder.

„Finally there. Ya ready t‘ meet Lee?“

Yes‘sir.“ Alice shoots back and suppresses a yawn. How Nathan is nearly vibrating with excitement after he drove the entire night, car flying over highways and rocky side streets, was beyond even Alice.

„Great. Than grab ya bag and off we go.“

Golden light illuminates the window next to the red front door and casts a golden square on the porch, the first step of the stairs going down to the muddy path that leads up to the house. The old sneakers Alice had gotten from the nice nurse squelsh with every step he takes. Trailing Nathan with the respectful distance of one and a half steps. Alice could keep the perfect distance blindfolded. Had to in training often enough. The phantom pain of his shock collar tingles over his neck and sends a shiver down his spine.

Nathan rings the doorbell. Blue eyes sparkling as the door opens seconds later. „Lee ma man, so good t see ya!“

Alice leans to the side, snatching a glimpse of a smile all white shining teeth in a face with high cheekbones and thick eyebrows, before the two man crush each other in a tight hug.

„It has been a while.“ Lee agrees. Both man hold on another second before finally letting go of each other and round dark eyes spot Alice. Lee smiles. „It is so nice to finally meet you Alice. My name is Lee.“

„The pleasure‘s all mine.“ Alice grins back. A small yawn escapes him and Lee‘s smile widens. Nose wrinkling.

„Should we go inside? I only just started the coffee machine.“ Lee grins at his friend but Nathan shakes his head.

„Na man, I‘m gonna hit the road again. Wanna be back at my house before the game starts. Promised Julian to watch it with him.“

Worry nestles in the furrow of Lee‘s brows but he doesn‘t try to stop him. Only cautions Nathan to drive safely before he ushers Alice and five into the house.

It is warm in the foyer. Lee stands in the hallway, illuminated by soft nightlights. There are even tiny LED‘s, in every step of the staircase leading up to the second floor, Alice notices, relieve washing over him like a warm wave.

That should keep them away, for sure. Fucking breathers are worse than the faceless one.

The soft hum of a coffee machine comes from the end of the hallway. Carries the warm rich scent through the house. It tickles Alice nose, enticing with every inhale.

Still, he hopes he isn‘t expected to drink it and stay awake any longer. His head started to pound an hour ago and he wouldn‘t survive one more without sleep. Five yawns next to him, dead on his feet.  

„It seems it is only the two of us for now, hm?“ Lee muses.

„Yeah.“ Alice breaths, while five mutters a silent, „rude,“ under his breath.

„How about I get you some fresh clothes from the laundry room.“ Lee gestures. „And show you your room after, so you can get some rest?“

„The idea sounds splendid Sir.“

Pressing cold fingertips to his temples Alice watches Lee disappear through the last door on the left. Sighing at the small reprieve of soothing touch. Even if its just his own.

A quiet treacherous part of him longs for his master. Yearns for the warm big hands that had held him through the very pain they had inflicted. Skilled fingers massaging cooling ointment into burning bruises. Dry lips murmuring praise in his ear.

His freshly fused yaw-bone aches.

„You the new one?“ A voice like grave yard gravel whispers from the end of the stairs and Alice whirls around.

On the last bottom stair stands a young man, half swallowed by shadows. The stair lights lick on pale bare feet. Dip into the divots of scars on his right hand. Light pink lines crossing pale long fingers that twitch faintly. Scarred knuckles crack softly with the movements.

„Yeah. I guess I am.“ Alice grins. Eyes wandering up the mans dark sweatshirt to land on his face. Pale scarred skin, a smatter of freckles smeared across high cheekbones, a nose crooked from being broken to often.

His smile is not returned. The other just stares at him. Unblinking sea glass green eyes drinking Alice in.

„Can I offer a nice Chianti to our livers, Sir?“ five whispers and Alice has to suppress a laugh, eyes growing wide as he snorts, coughs into his fist at the last moment.

The other furrows a sparse red eyebrow. The ghost of an expression, Alice isn‘t quite sure flitted over the other face at all.

„I‘m Alice.“ He tries again. Thrusts his hand forward. „Nice to meet you.“

The other stumbles backwards, up a step, in a motion that looks still oddly gracious. Pale eyes narrow.

„Try to touch me again; I‘ll put your head through the wall.“, he hisses, upper lip wrinkling. Showing a flash of straight white teeth.

A sheepish smile shifts the wound dressings on Alice face, tugs on his skin. He lifts his hands, palms out, placating. „Sorry. Really, I didn‘t mean to make you uncomfortable.“

The smile stretches into a toothy grin and he laughs. „But please wait with that til I‘ve healed up from the first time. Even though it wasn‘t the wall but masters hallway dresser. Massive thing. Antique.“ Alice mouth scrunches into the tiniest scowl. „I guess my blood ruined it though.“ He shakes his head, getting rid of some thought like a dog would of water. „Anyway. You can twist my arm until it hurts, if that‘d make you feel better?“

The other stares at Alice outstretched arm. Back up to his smiling, softly flushed face. Honey brown eyes look at him almost... expectantly?

He shakes his head, the fraction of a motion from left to right, eerily light eyes never leaving Alice face.

„No.“, he rasps. After a small pause. „Thank you?“

„Oh.“, Alice drops his arm. His smile falters. „Okay.“

„Harvey, please.“ Lee strides down the hall, in long measured steps. A bundle of fabric is clutched under his right arm, bicep flexing. A kind seriousness lives in the curve of his mouth. The set of his brows. The soft crinkle around one eye, hint of his half smile. „We did talk about this. It‘s hard to make friends when you threaten every new person you meet with terrible violence.“

„I don‘t do friendship.“ Harvey mumbles and stalks up the stairs as Lee‘s mouth opens, ready to retaliate. Lee stares after his back, almost at the top pf the stairs and sighs softly. He turns back to Alice. The expression on his face softens, gentles like his voice.

„And Alice.“ Lee places a stack of well worn clothes and soft towels into Alice hands. They smell after a laundry detergent with flowers printed on the bottle. Like spring and fresh starts in the middle of an autumn full of endings and withering deaths. „You do not have to pay for mistakes with pain here. Nor for anything else. Okay?“

The muscles of Alice face draw tight, crumbling in confusion. He glances over to five who flashes him an encouraging smile. Five who had always been there and held him through the roughest patches of training. Who had never been trained for pain himself but had helped him in his first sessions of romantic training before his owner had announced he wanted Alice only as a platonic and not-

Of course!  

He tilts his head just so to the side, tries to get it right after so long and smiles up at Lee‘s gentle face. Drinking in those round dark eyes, the soft curve of his  lips. Lips that surely like to kiss as sweetly as the words taste that fell from them. Alice wasn‘t trained for gentle but he could try.

„Yeah sure. I know all the other ways to earn,“ he squeezes the fabric in his hands, „all of this, too.“

Well, all the other ways was a bit of a stretch, maybe, possible, a little, but he would just ask five for a little training‘s refresher and everything would run like clockwork.

Or so Alice thought until Lees face fell.

„No that is- I did not mean mean it like that.“ A broad hand cards through thick black hair. Tousles the short bowl-cut to total disarray. „You do not have to earn anything here. It‘s, uhm, you can see it all as a gift. Yes? No strings attached.“

„Gift?“ Five echos. His beautiful pale face mirrors Alice own disbelieve.  

Honey brown eyes narrow in suspicion. „Why would you just- gift all that to us?“

„U-“ Lee begins, stops himself. „Because you deserve a safe place to breath and heal. Just like our Harvey and all the other rescues. Like every other person.“

„Person huh?“ The towels are soft under Alice fingers as he grips them. Tight. The smile twitching on his lips hurts in a way he can‘t quiet grasp. This pain isn‘t a good pain. „Haven‘t been called that in a while.“

„Well.“ There is a hardness buried deep under all the compassion coloring Lee‘s words. Steel hidden beneath silk. „You should get used to hearing the truth here. But for now, let me show you your room.“ Lee‘s back to business clap echoes through the entryway. Rough palms slap together, while he nods towards the staircase with a smile. „You must be terribly tired after the long journey.“

A yawn breaks free from Alice mouth. Topples the cheeky reply from the tip of his tongue, so for once he falls silent and follows his new keeper up the stairs.

[fluffynexu]

taste of home

AO3 link

Malavai Quinn tried to avoid the officers’ mess hall when he could. Even though there were only about half a dozen officers that shared the space he preferred to eat in solitude back in his office. But every so often, he needed to restock his ration stash. And of course, there were those rare days when fresh supplies were imported to Balmorra directly from the Empire’s core. Those days he’d let himself indulge a bit and grab some fresh fruit or even stay in the mess’ kitchen long enough to cook something resembling a proper meal. 

He made his way to the officers’ mess and sifted through the various flavor and texture options when Major Bessiker called out to him. 

“Ah, Lieutenant!”

Quinn pulled his hand back before he got anything. “Major,” he replied with a curt nod. 

“Stocking up again?”

“Naturally.”

“You should join us more often.” 

Major Pirrell walked in with a miserable look on his face. “Oh don’t bother, Bessiker. You know how he is. Always too busy.” 

Maintaining a neutral expression Quinn simply looked at Bessiker. “Apologies, but Major Pirrell is correct. I have much to do for the war effort here, and I can improve my productivity by—”

“Don’t be such a shut in, Quinn!” Bessiker said with a warm smile. 

Pirrell merely scoffed while grabbing a cup of caf for the morning.

“Besides,” Bessiker continued, “A crate of fresh food coming in today, straight from Dromund Kaas!”

“Really?” Quinn and Pirrell asked in unison.

Quinn thought for a moment. “But there isn’t a delivery scheduled for another—”

“It’s for a special occasion!” Bessiker practically radiated with joy. Which, given the damn planet they were all stuck on, was quite odd.

Drawing in a deep breath Quinn turned back to the assortment of rations. “Thank you for the offer but—”

“No, no! I insist,” Bessiker pressed on.

Pirrell took a sip from his caf. “Take a hint. The man’s not interested.” 

“Oh but he will be. And so will you! In fact, I’m inviting all the officers in Sobrik for this occasion!” Bessiker smiled and laughed, “Don’t make me turn this into an order, Lieutenant.”

Quinn groaned inwardly but held his head high with respect. “Of course. If you insist, sir.”

“Wait.” Pirrell paused for a moment, no doubt waiting for the effects of the caf to kick in. “All of the officers? Does that include—”

“Colonel Sartius? Yes.”

Pirrell groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well now I’m not—”

“For the love of the Emperor, you can handle one eve—”

Quinn cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, Majors.” With his rations in hand Quinn left the two to continue with their bickering.

~

It was nearly 34:00, local time, when Quinn returned to the officers’ mess. It seemed that he was the first to arrive aside from Major Bessiker who was pulling foodstuffs out of a delivery crate.

Quinn gave a quiet cough. “I assume the others will be joining us soon?”

“Lieutenant!” Bessiker motioned Quinn toward the crate. “Give me a hand won’t you?”

“Of course.” Quinn began rummaging through the various items: fresh zinjer, coolumbers, a jar of cranonut oil, a package of two-striped skal fish, napani leaves, cerulean river blossoms, totomo fronds, churtuma powder, and a 10kg bag of Kaasi rice just to name a few. Each item he held with a sort of reverence, looking over the packaging and reading the labels. Sure enough, everything in the crate came from high end food companies on Dromund Kaas, the kinds that would often supply restaurants with Sith clientele. 

Quinn eventually pulled out a stack of thin boxes wrapped in light, ornate cloth. “What are these?”

“Those are mirbans, for dessert. There should be more than enough for everyone to take a box.”

“Mirbans? But Bloom Feast isn’t until much later in the Kaasi year.”

Bessiker waved him off. “Yes, yes. That’s true, but that particular steamery is one of a handful that makes mirbans all year round. And trust me lieutenant, I had some the last time I was on leave and it was simply divine.”

“I see…” Quinn placed the various chilis, fresh and dried, on the nearby counter. “If I may ask, what is the occasion for celebration?”

“My son!” Bessiker exclaimed, “He just got accepted to the Sith Academy on Korriban!”

Quinn paused for a moment before hauling out the heavy bag of rice. “That’s quite an accomplishment. My cong—”

Pirrell burst into the mess with Captains Ilun and Rollo flanking him. “So what are we here for? What’s all this? And—wait…” Pirrell pointed at the full counter. “Are those bottles of—?”

“Kaasake?” Bessiker answered with a smile. “Yes they are. Top quality too. These were not cheap.”

“Hmm. Those might make this evening with Colonel Sartius bearable…”

Rollo and Ilun remained poised and professional, but at another glance Quinn could tell that they were trying not to laugh, as if they were in a joke no one else in the room knew. 

“I told the Colonels to arrive a bit later than the rest of you,” Bessiker said motioning to the fresh imports from Dromund Kaas. “So that we may prepare the meal prior to their arrival.”    

Pirrell rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh while Rollo and Ilun simply went into the kitchen.

“What are we cooking anyway, Major?” Rollo asked. 

“I’m surprised Ilun hasn’t told you, considering how close the two of you are.” 

There was a slight blush on the Captains’ cheeks before Ilun cleared his throat. “R-right. It, uh, it’s a simple variation of river rice. I’ll pull up the recipe from grand-chef Iorra.” 

“Simple? With chef Iorra? Pah!” Pirrell exclaimed. “Is that what all this is for? What, instant rice and a meat paste not good enough for you, Bessiker?” 

Quinn frowned at the abominable description Pirrell gave for river rice and shook his head.

Despite Pirrell’s tiresome mood, Bessiker remained positively chipper. “Not for tonight! You see, my son, my dear Hiran, got accepted into the Sith Academy on Korriban! Therefore, we shall celebrate and feast in his honor! Yes, even here on Balmorra.” 

Ilun gave a quiet applause at Bessiker’s declaration while Pirrell just shrugged. 

“Now I assume all of you have passed the basic competency portion of food preparation and safety during your academy days. So here’s what everyone will be in charge of.”

~

The Colonels, Eben and Sartius, arrived just as the meal was finished and plated. And the river rice, simply put, was exquisite to behold. A generous scoop of light blue rice surrounded by the fish, fried nuts mixed with ashobies, coolumer slices, half an egg, and flavorful chili paste all sitting on top of a totomo frond on the plate.

Quinn’s stomach grumbled as Bessiker greeted with a deep bow. “Ah, Colonels. I’m so grateful the two of you could make it.”

Eben and Sartius sat down without a word. Quinn and the other officers shuffled around to set the table with the food, silverware, and cups. The Majors took their seats, followed by the Captains, and finally Quinn sat down as well. 

Bessiker engaged in polite conversation with the Colonels as Quinn automatically filled everyone’s small, ceramic cups full of warm kaasake in hierarchical order. Once the kaasake was distributed Major Bessiker stood to give a toast.

“I must thank you all for joining me in this wondrous occasion. As you all know by now, my son has been accepted into the Korriban Sith Academy. May he rise above their ranks and serve our Empire well!” Bessiker raised his cup high, prompting the others to do the same. “For the Empire!”

“For the Empire!” they all repeated and drank the warm wine. 

Bessiker sat back down and the meal officially started when the Colonels took their bites. As the Colonels congratulated Bessiker for his son’s accomplishments and the Majors started eating as well. Then the Captains ate which meant that Quinn was now free to enjoy the food. 

Quinn took slow bites, enjoying the harmony of flavors of the spices and the textures of the fish, rice, and nuts. As he ate the other officers would absentmindedly hold out their empty cups to him from time to time, an automatic and unspoken cue for him to refill their kaasake. To which Quinn obliged readily as per custom since they all out ranked him.

Everyone, even Colonel Sartius and Major Pirrell, seemed to be having a decent time. Afterall, it wasn’t common to have food this fresh and exquisite on Balmorra. Rollo and Ilun mostly kept to themselves, their hands occasionally intertwining as they’d whisper and laugh to themselves. 

“So tell me, Captain,” Eben said to Rollo, “how long has it been since you arrived here?”

Rollo looked up, seemingly caught a bit off guard. “It’s been a fortnight, sir. Er… in local time.”

Eben nodded and then everyone began conversing about their time on Balmorra. Quinn sank into his seat, putting more fish and rice into his mouth. Listening to his peers he realized that they all arrived on Balmorra after him, by years in most cases. All of a sudden, the fish became too mushy, the rice’s hue looked sickly, and the fragrant chili paste became too pungent. Not wanting to rudely waste such a splendid meal, he made an effort to finish his plate so he could return to his quarters.

“You know, Bessiker,” Pirrell said while finishing another cup of kaasake, clearly drunk and bored. “I had a Sith for a lover.”

“Pfft, yeah right,” Rollo laughed under his breath with Ilun.

Pirrell stared down at the Captains and continued, “It’s true!”

“Oh? What was their name?” asked Sartius with a smirk. 

“Her name was Nalatea. A beautiful red Sith and a proper Lord.” Pirrell swung his cup at Quinn, obtaining a refill. “Have any of you met a red Sith in person?”

Bessiker shook his head. “Can’t say I have.”

“Me neither,” Ilun added.

“You see them all the time on the holos but…” Eben said. “In person? No.”

A wide, slimy grin plastered itself on Pirrell’s face. “Well let me tell you all. They really are… beautifully exotic.” 

Quinn’e eye twitched. He wasn’t sure why but Pirrell’s comment made him uncomfortable. 

“Is it true then?” Sartius asked. 

“Is what true?” Pirrell replied.

“You know,” Sartius continued, making vague hand gestures. “In the bedroom…”

“Oh, ha, well…” Pirrell quickly drank the remainder of his cup. “I’d assume so… The thing is—”

Bessiker chuckled, “I knew it. This was just a Lord you had an infatuation over. There was no way a Sith would even consider—”

Pirrell slammed the cup down with enough force that would’ve sprayed the kaasake if he hadn’t emptied it just beforehand. “I’ll have you all know that there were plenty of moments where we could’ve—”

“So then why didn’t you?” Sartius asked. 

“It was her damned beasts!” Pirrell sighed. “She had wrats. About fifty—”

“She had fifty wrats?!” Rollo exclaimed.

“No! Worse. She had fifty-seven… or was it fifty-eight?” 

Quinn paused at the absolute absurd amount of rodents this Sith owned, not to mention the logistic nightmare of caring for all of them. 

“And I’m convinced that each and every one of her precious pets hated me,” Pirrell spat with venom.

“I… can’t imagine why,” Quinn said dryly, recalling an old Sith belief that wrats could judge a person’s character. 

Bessiker cleared his throat. “Yes, well. We all live and serve at their expense.” The group mumbled in agreement before he continued. “What about the rest of you? Any interesting interactions with a Sith, not necessarily sexual or… almost sexual in Pirrell’s case.”

The Captains openly laughed with Ilun leaning into Rollo as Pirrell just frowned and ate more food.

“What about you, Lieutenant?” Bessiker asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet this evening.”

Everyone turned to look at him and he opened his mouth to answer. “I—”

“I’m pretty sure he’s always like this,” Pirrell commented. 

Quinn sank back in his seat. His mind wandered to that fateful meeting with Darth Baras all those years ago. Looking around he knew that they would all be promoted and reassigned to more favorable stations. Which, the thought of officers like Pirrell succeeding where he could not made his heart sink with dread and envy.

“If I may, sirs,” Quinn sighed, “I… have much to do for Sobrik’s aerial defense inspection in the morning.” He rose and gave a deep bow. “Thank you for a pleasant evening and my congratulations to your son, Major.”

The other officers looked at him a bit oddly, but didn’t seem to care that he was departing.

As he was about to leave Bessiker called out, “Oh don’t forget your box of mirbans! And feel free to take one of the extra kaasake bottles as well!”

~

Quinn made it back to his quarters. Sitting on his bed he placed the bottle on the nightstand next to him and smoothed over the decorated, flimsi-thin cloth that wrapped the box. He unwrapped and slowly opened the box. There were twelve mirbans, expertly handcrafted by the look of their floral design coming in a range of soft colors.

He picked up one of the mirbans looking it over. All of a sudden, he was a child again, back with his parents and sister helping to make the different colored mirban dough in their kitchen that was far too small for the four of them. 

“No sisi! I wanna do it!” Malavai would cry out as a young child.

“I’m the oldest!” his sister, Primella, would declare, “I get to mix it first!”

Their parents would give a light-hearted laugh as they managed to produce uneven, lumpy mirbans. But it didn’t matter. It always tasted good.

With a deep sigh Quinn placed the mirban back in the box, nearly putting it away. But something brewed in the pit of his stomach as he recalled the last interaction with his sister. 

Balmorra. That’s where Baras was sending him. Quite frankly, it sounded awful, but it was better than death. He would need to leave in approximately fifteen minutes if he was going to catch his ship at the spaceport. 

Someone knocked on his door. He opened it to find Primella staring him down with crossed arms. 

“S-sisi? What—?”

She shoved past him and closed the door. “How could you do this?!”

“Do what?” “Don’t play dumb with me you little shit,” she huffed. “Did you know that mom left in the middle of your court martial trial?”

Quinn frowned. “Yes… I noticed.”

“Ok, well did you also know that she’s moving to Ziost?” “What?”

“Yeah. Word about your insubordination and mutiny got out and—”

“It was not—”

“Will you shut up and listen!” She was trembling and Quinn remained quiet as she continued. “All of mom’s friends and coworkers found out. She was practically ostracized for having a traitorous son! So now she has to move to Ziost and hope that the people there don’t know about your fuck up.”

Quinn clenched his fists as his nostrils flared. “Prim, I am not a—”

“No! Traitor or no, I am still you sisi! And you—!” she sighed. Her shoulders sagged and she tried to discreetly wipe away a stray tear. 

“…Sisi,” Quinn began quietly, “what I did, I did it for the good of the Empire. And quite frankly, I’d do it all over again.”

She scoffed.

“It’s like father used to tell us—”

“Father’s dead, Malavai. He died a war hero. You were supposed to carry on that legacy! We both were…”

“I’m sorry?”

“Reon called off the wedding.” She smiled bitterly at him. “Thanks for that too, kimu.” 

Quinn swallowed, his mouth dry and unable to form words.

“Do you even care? About us? Me and mom?” Her voice began to rise with each and every word. “Did you, for once, think about what this would mean for our family?!”

“Of course I—” His eyes fought back tears as he took several deep breaths. “Look, what’s done is done. Nothing I say or do will change anything now… so if you’re done yelling at me, I have a ship to catch.”

Primella glared at him and remained completely still for a minute. He could practically hear the gears whirring in her head when she finally spoke. “Fine. I need to go anyway.” 

With that his sister walked out of his room and out of his life.

Quinn tossed the box lid aside and unceremoniously grabbed the mirbans, shoving them all into his mouth one after another. He forced them down despite the lump in his throat with the bottle of kaasake. Tears began to sting his eyes as he finished off the box and bottle. 

The simple truth was, he’d never be able to go back home. 

Quinn was going to die on this miserable planet. He tossed away the empty box and bottle into the appropriate trash containers and collapsed into bed. He didn’t want any more reminders taunting him of a time that was and a home he’d never see again.

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

glossary(?) in order of appearance:

zinjer - ginger

coolumber - cucumber

cranonut - coconut

skal fish - scad fish

napani - pandan

cerulean river blossom - butterfly pea flower

totomo - banana

churtuma - turmuric

mirban - songpyeon

steamery - think, bakery is for baked foods. steamery is for steamed foods! :D

kaasake - sake

river rice - nasi lemak

ashobies - anchovies

sisi - imperial term for Older Sister

kimu - imperial term for Younger Brother

AN in tags of OP

[teamhook]

|AO3|

|FFN|

I want to thank @captainswanmoviemarathon and Discord. My co-writer @revanmeetra87

I want to also thank @ultraluckycatnd for Beta-ing thiis thing for us.

Thursday

Jefferson's broken leg was on a sling. His arm was in a cast. He wasn't in the best condition but he knew if he didn't get Killian back home he would be worse off. He would disappear. The TV kept reminding him that he needed to get out of the hospital ASAP. There were reports the elevators had either stopped working completely or malfunctioning. He had firsthand experience that is why he is in a hospital bed and not at home preparing his Nobel Prize speech. He had tried to charm the nurse to let him leave the hospital but failed miserably. Nurse Ratched told him he had to be released by Doctor Hyde. Jefferson didn't realize that she had come in to check on him earlier and overheard his entire conversation with Emma. She was concerned that he was crazy and suicidal.

Emma was getting ready for her day at work. The sudden ring of the fire alarm startled her. She could hear her neighbors yelling and Cat's frantic barks. She decided to check it out.

Killian had attempted to make breakfast and chaos had erupted, the fire alarm blared, smoke filled the apartment. Cat's barking got louder. As Emma entered she yelled, "Cat shut up!" She turned off the alarm, and opened the window to air out the apartment.

Killian glared. "That thing is a bloody hazard."

"It's just a toaster!" She glared back at Killian.

"That thing does not produce toast! One insertion only produces warm bread and two insertions produce charcoal!" he yelled.

Emma rolled her eyes, this man was a drama queen. "It's just a toaster." She repeats annoyedly.

Killian was pacing back and forth ranting, "You would think that when the General of Electric built the bloody thing he would test it, for him to take pride in his creations instead of just foisting them on the public without warning!"

"You know what, no one cares if they have to insert the toast twice. You know why? Because we all insert it twice!"

He took a step forward, he looked like a hunter going after its prey. He didn't stop until they were toe to toe. "Not where I come from!"

For a second Emma felt a rush, then she squared her shoulders. "Oh no, of course not because where you come from, toast is the result of reflection and study."

"Aye, you mock me, but perhaps one day, when you're awoken from a pleasurable slumber to the scent of a warm brioche smothered in marmalade and fresh creamery butter you'll understand that life is not solely comprised of tasks, but tastes."

Emma's smile widened. "Say that again."

Killian was baffled at her sudden change in demeanor. "Pardon me?"

"Nevermind, you'll be perfect." She looked him up and down. "Good, you're dressed. Come on, you're coming with me."

Killian followed her without question.

Emma and Killian arrived at her work, but not without some stares directed at Killian's wardrobe.

Emma had called Mary Margaret to meet them at the door. Just as requested, Mary Margaret was waiting for them. She greeted them as soon as they walked inside. "Emma, we've been waiting for you. We had-" She looked at the list, "five read so far-"

Emma shook her head. "Mary Margaret, meet Killian. Please take him to the greenroom; I want him to read." Mary Margaret smiled at Killian and nodded.

"Killian, this is Mary Margaret. Go with her and she will explain everything."

Killian and Mary Margaret disappeared down the hall.

Emma walked to the control room. Her boss was chatting up the client, so she went over to the monitors. There were women smiling and batting their lashes as they gazed into the screen with Killian on it.

The client, Mr. Spencer, was frustrated and finally said, "Walsh, I don't have time for this."

Emma responded, "Mr. Spencer, let's look at this last one."

Walsh Oz shakes his head. "Emma, the client said he wants to stop."

"Walsh, trust me, this is the one," Emma said with confidence.

"What is he wearing?" Walsh scrunched up his nose. "He looks like the Quaker Oats guy."

"Well, it doesn't really matter what you think. What really matters is what the ladies think. They love him. To them he is a dream. He's honest, courteous, handsome; a true gentleman. He stands up when you walk in a room. He brings you brioche in bed. If you eat his margarine, maybe your hips will shrink."

In the greenroom, Killian fidgeted under the scrutiny of the director's eyes.

"Mr. Duke, do you see that mark on the floor?"

Killian nodded.

"You need to stand on that tape line," the director said. "Okay, everyone quiet! And action!"

Killian stayed quiet with the rest of the room.

The director stared at him and rolled his eyes. "Mr. Duke, this is the part when you start talking."

Killian turned his gaze to the monitor and with a raised eyebrow, his blue eyes twinkled under the light. "Fresh creamery butter. Is there anything more comforting? I say there is. You'll agree once you sample fat-free Farmer's Bounty with the genuine essence of creamery butter in every bite. You shall receive butter's splendid flavour in your mouth without adding to the luxury of your waistline."

Mr. Spencer laughed boisterously. "Where do I sign?"

Walsh leaned in to whisper in Emma's ear. "Where did you find him?"

Emma took a step away. "Oh, he lives in my building."

Killian waited patiently by the door while Emma gave Mary Margaret some last minute instructions.

Walsh Oz walked out of the stairwell. He smirked as he noticed Emma was still in the building. "What's the deal with the elevators?" he asked no one in particular. He slowly approached her from behind, and smelled her hair. She stiffened. "Emma, we have so much to discuss over dinner tonight."

Oh yeah, Emma though. I'd forgotten about that. She tried to smile. "Yes, we do. I look forward to it."

Killian's jaw clenched at the display of power abuse and the obvious discomfort it caused Emma. Walsh grinned as Emma walked up to Killian so they could leave. "Nice job, Mr. Margarine," Walsh said as the glass doors closed behind them.

Once they're outside, Emma turned to Killian with a bright smile. She started dancing.

Amused, Killian smiled. "You look pleased."

"Killian, you did an amazing job in there! You are going to be famous!"

Killian simply smiled. "I take it you're dining with that man this evening?"

Emma's smile disappeared. "Yes, he's my boss, Walsh."

"Do you require a chaperone? His intentions are obvious," Killian asked.

"I'm alone with you, do I need a chaperone?" Emma rolled her eyes.

"Emma, we're not courting but if we were, as a man of honor, I would inform you of my intentions in writing."

"I don't need saving. No one saves me but me. Don't worry about it," Emma said, slightly annoyed.

Emma walked in front of him. Killian could tell she was miffed at him, so he kept a small distance from her. A horse carriage caught his eye. He patted the horse and turned to Emma. "How about we take one of these?"

She shook her head no. "Those are for tourists."

Killian smiled at the kind old man. "I'm sorry sir, she's not interested."

The man kindly grinned back. "No worries."

Emma raised her hand, and Killian watched her until one of the powered carriages - cars, he remembered - screeched to a halt at their side. It is bright yellow with some black trim, just like the one they used as transport earlier, but it appeared to have a different coachman.

"All right," Emma said as she opened the car door, "We're probably going to need a bank account number and possibly a birth certificate from you before we start filming. Legality and all. So if you could just drop the 'back in time' act for a few minutes and track them down for m-"

From behind them, a man in a billed cap darted forward and jerked Emma's reticule from her hands, then rushed across the street.

"Hey!" Emma shouted, enraged. "That's my purse!"

Emma took flight after the scumbag thief. "Hey asshole! That's my bag! I'm gonna get you, you ass!" She chased after him while wearing the most uncomfortable shoes. He was fast, but she was not about to give up.

She stopped for a brief second to catch her breath. She doesn't want to lose him and was about to restart her chase once more when she heard galloping hooves which confused her. She then heard her name being called out. That's when she noticed him. It was Killian riding a horse and he was fast approaching her.

"Emma, give me your hand," Killian instructed once he reached her.

She gave him her hand and he easily pulled her on the horse as they broke into full gallop in pursuit of the thief.

Emma held on to Killian tight as he maneuvered the animal. The chase didn't last long. They cornered the lowlife rapidly. "I warn you, scoundrel. You stand no chance. When you run, I shall ride and when you stop, the steel of this strap will be lodged in your brain."

The thief had nowhere to run so he just threw the purse on the ground and took flight. A sudden onslaught of cheering and applause erupted from their previously unknown audience. Killian unmounted to retrieve the purse. Emma simply stared at him as she tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

Soon enough, they find themselves back at the corner where the chase began. Killian hooked the horse back up to the carriage as the older man smiled at Emma. "Your boyfriend is a great rider."

Emma smiled. "Yes, he is."

On the ride home, they sat quietly in the carriage.

"Are you for real?" Emma asked.

"Pardon?" Killian responded with a raised brow.

"You're a Duke?" Emma asked.

"I was born a Duke, but I never felt like one," Killian smiled.

Back at the apartment, Emma was getting ready for her dinner with Walsh. She noticed the interactions between Cat and Killian.

Cat was eagerly waiting for her next command from Killian with a wagging tail.

"Stay...Sit. On your feet… Stay… Stay… Good girl," Killian said with a triumphant smile.

Emma can't help as her eyes drifted to Killian. He was a good looking man after all and she wasn't blind. He was distracting, but she had to focus. Dinner equals promotion.

"What are you guys doing tonight?" Emma asked.

David's attention was glued to the game on TV and he mumbled under his breath, "we might meet up with some of my friends."

"Alright, I'm off to dinner then," Emma said.

"Emma, please reconsider my offer to chaperone," Killian begged.

Emma rolled her eyes. "I can take care of myself."

"David, don't you think it's inappropriate-" Killian asked as he helped Emma put on her coat.

"As her brother, I would think my sister would invite me to an audition," David said, outraged.

Emma sighed. "David, you're not exactly margarine material. I'm sorry."

"What!? I can't sell butter? Emma, I'm a great actor. I can sell butter! It's insulting that my own sister has no faith in me."

"Yes, David you are an amazing actor but-"

"Is it the accent? I can do British, Emma. Hell I can be anyone." David continued ranting as Emma turned to Killian. "Good night." She opened the door and lingered for a second before walking away.

Killian gazed after her with a small smile.

Emma and Walsh are seated and he ordered some drinks for them.

After the waiter left, his attention turned to her. "Emma, I have to admit I was nervous for you. When your friend walked in wearing that outfit, saying 'if you eat this margarine your hips will shrink'," Walsh laughed.

Emma smiled. "I was just doing my job."

"He is going to be bigger than Mr. Whipple. You're not sleeping with him are you?" he asked.

"No." She shook her head, yet at the tip of her tongue was a comment about it not being his business. Sometimes she had to remind herself to play nice.

Killian and David decided to go out and meet some friends. "Hey guys, this is Killian," David announced.

Killian smiled as he greeted everyone.

His companions were enthralled by his voice as Killian made a comment about how the best things in life are hidden in the basement of the Louvre.

David excused himself to go to the bar and get drinks where he bumped into a dressed up Mary Margaret out for a girls night out.

Killian noticed the interaction and David's obvious attempt at flirting. so he excused himself to get a closer look. Before he could get closer, though, the connection had been cut short and they returned to their respective parties. Killian stopped Mary Margaret to greet her as David caught their exchange on his way back to the table with the drinks.

Before anyone was aware of it, the evening came to its inevitable end. Killian and David were walking home and David stopped walking. Killian turned to him to see what the problem was as David started talking in a mocking voice...

"Please, allow me to assist you, Abigail."

"Oh, please, allow me to light that for you, Merida."

"What's this? Ah, this is my family crest. It has been in the family for generations."

"What do they have in the basement of the Louvre? The works of Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Chardin, David all surrounded by great coral sponges to absorb the moisture."

Killian was confused by his friend's behavior.

"Not all women are going to swoon over your-" David pointed up and down Killian's form.

Killian studied his friend, trying to understand David's point.

"I was going to get her number but-"

"I believe this is her number," Killian said as he handed his friend the paper. "Mary Margaret has no inkling of your affections. You are a Merry Andrew. Women respond to sincerity. This requires pulling one's tongue from one's cheek. No one wants to be romanced by a baboon. Here's her number and give her a call tomorrow. It's late now and Emma should be home by now."

"Wait, you like her." Realization dawned on David's face. "You really like my sister!"

"David, that's nonsense. You're intoxicated," Killian said as he scratched behind his ear.

"Now who's the Merry-Andrew? You know, Emma is having dinner not long from here. We should go and you can show me the proper way to make a move."

Killian sighed. "Not a move David, an overture. Make your intentions known. Think of pleasing her, not vexing her."

"Fine, no vexing. Come on let's go." David smiled as he pulled Killian in the direction of the restaurant.

Emma cleared her throat. "I have to confess I'm a bit confused. When you mentioned dinner, I was under the impression that we were here to discuss business, a possible promotion even." She sighed. "Dinner is winding down and we have yet to discuss those things. We've talked about your love of La Boheme, and the lovely place you purchased in Sussex."

Walsh gave her his best attempt at a seductive smile. "I don't believe I've ever seen you this flustered Emma, and you haven't even kissed me yet."

Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Right. I like you, Walsh, I do. But I think you would agree that a working relationship- a successful working relationship, requires-"

"Hello, Emma!" David's cheery voice interrupted. "We found you."

Jumping in her seat, Emma turned to see her brother suddenly hovering beside the table. "David?" she asked in disbelief.

"We wanted to say hi," David explained, then proceeded to introduce himself to her boss.

"We?" Emma thought, before realizing Killian was standing at her side.

"Emma," he said in a low, earnest voice as his eyes searched hers. "May I speak to you in private?"

Her mouth fell open. "Seriously? No!"

But Walsh was already inviting the two to pull up seats and join them.

"Where, exactly, did you say it is?" Killian asked Walsh with a cocked eyebrow.

"Sussex, near Ballmour," Walsh said with offhanded superiority.

"Built in the 18th century?" Killian reiterated Walsh's earlier words.

"Early 18th century," Walsh emphasized, with a look at Emma. Killian could almost see the man puffing out his chest with pride. "I have pictures to prove it."

"Well," Killian said, thinking of the empty, rolling green and scattered trees of the area as he knew it. "I do believe you were swindled. I can assure you, as of the late 19th century, there is nothing in the area but farmland."

"You're mistaken," Walsh said immediately. "That's not possible."

Emma quickly jumped in. "He's right; you may be mistaken, Killian!" she hissed. "You don't know-"

Irritation rising due to the fact she was defending the cretin who was so obviously looking to take advantage of her, Killian snapped back. "I was raised there, I do know."

Clearing his throat to break up the discussion, Walsh changed the subject. "Killian, do you enjoy opera?"

Still stinging from Emma's words, Killian plastered a smile on his face. "Oh, indeed. Do you have a favorite?"

Raising his eyes to the ceiling, as if thinking deeply, Walsh finally said, "Boheme. La Boheme. I've seen it 12 times. That's...that is how I learned to speak French."

From the corner of his eye, Killian could see Emma's eyes widen with surprise. Clearly she was impressed, or pretending to be.

Now the irritation grew to ire, and Killian could feel it gnawing at him. He knew he should just let it go, but suddenly he heard himself making a statement in French.

Emma looked to Walsh. "What did he say?"

As Killian had expected, Walsh was sitting there dumbstruck, only managing to croak out a small scoffing noise.

Killian translated the phrase, explaining it was the opening words to Boheme - a duet.

Still slightly stunned, Walsh managed to jump back in and tell the table that Andre sang it to Mimi.

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Killian laughed softly. "Andre?"

Now recovering, Walsh lifted his head. "Yes, I invited Emma to the Met to see it. But she turned me down! Can you believe that, Killian?"

Voice tight, Killian said, "True, it should not be missed by anyone. But perhaps Emma resists on moral grounds."

Emma groaned softly, lowering her head into her hands.

Walsh narrowed his eyes. "How so?"

"Let's get the check!" Emma said hastily, but nobody answered her.

"Well," Killian said, staring at Walsh challengingly, "some feel that to court a woman in one's employ is nothing but a serpentine effort to make a lady fall from grace."

Silence fell over the table, though David was trying to hide his grin.

Finally, Walsh said stiffly, "This guy is charming, Emma. The Duke of Margarine thinks I'm a serpent."

"No, not a serpent," Killian corrected. "Merely a braggart and cad, who knows less French than I, if that is possible." Pushing back his seat, Killian rose and collected his jacket. "And by the way, there is no Andre in Boheme. It's Rodolfo. And though it takes place in France, it is rarely played in French as it is written in Italian. Good night."

Knowing he had made himself a fool, and facing the possibility that Emma would never speak to him again, Killian still turned on his heel and stalked out of the restaurant.

Back at the apartment, Killian and David waited for Emma's return. At the click of the door's lock unlocking, Killian rushed to the door.

Emma opened the door and breezed in, ignoring Killian's plea for a word.

Tag List:

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[timeforelfnonsense]

The Lusty Eladrin Maid

Rating: E (no smut yet but there will be in the update) || Ao3 ||  Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series || Author's tucked away at the end

It was a simple enough task to find Dafni in the little forest glade. He’d followed the trail of flowers left behind by her bare feet in the grass. The iridescent fabric of her skirt fluttered around her thighs as she twirled. Her nimble fingertips plucked berries, as red and ripe as her parted lips. She filled the woven basket hanging from the crook of her bent arm, singing softly to herself. A few rosy ringlets peak out of the front of her kerchief, framing her bespeckled cheeks. A smile tugged at Astarion’s lips, she looked like a storybook character come to life right off the page.

Silently, he crept further into the meadow watching her sway to her slivery, birdsong melody. Closer and closer until Dafni unknowingly spun herself into his embrace. Astarion pulled her into his chest, a baby pink flush spreading across the bridge of her freckled nose. Dafni glanced up at him, doe-eyed through her long, fluttering lashes. Daffodil cups unfurled themselves throughout the sea of curls flowing from her lacy kerchief. Their vibrant colors painting a sunset of yellow, cream, and peachy-pink in her tresses.

“It seems I’ve caught myself a faerie! ” Astarion murmured against her ear, toying with a stray tendril, twisting the curl around his index finger.

Dafni let out a chime of silver laughter before responding in an airy voice, “And what do you mean to do with me, good sir?”

“I mean to take you into my arms.” He said with a low chuckle, turning her so her chest was pressed to his own, “To kiss you and hold you.” He tilted her face upwards, finding her berry-stained lips with his own. Pulling away for a single torturous moment, he spoke once more, “I mean to make you mine.” 

He could taste the sweet tang of raspberry juice and honey on her tongue as he coaxed her deeper into the kiss. A contented sigh slipped from Dafni’s lungs. She nestled herself closer to his body, her full breasts pressed against his chest. He brought a hand to the base of her skull, gently cradling her head in his palm. He felt her lips curl into a smile under his kiss. 

He’d found himself rather enchanted by this little game of flirtatious make-believe. He’d perused the dog eared pages of her books out of equal parts boredom and curiosity. She’d only had the single faded pink leather volume in her bag when she’d been snatched, but over a few days, she’d been able to track down a trove of smutty literature. Through his investigation of the many, many volumes of romance and debauchery, Astarion had gathered some insight into the romantic workings of her mind. 

She dreamt of being swept off her feet. She wanted illicit midnight rendezvous. She longed for stolen kisses and tender words whispered between waltzes. To sneak away from a ballroom to some hidden alcove. He could picture it perfectly, her frilly skirts thrown over her back. His hand climbing its way up her stocking clad caves as she was bent over the nearest piece of furniture and tupped to oblivion.

What was the harm in indulging her whimsy for a little while? It would be easy enough to play the dashing rapscallion to her wayward debutante. 

 “I’ll happily surrender myself to you if you promise to kiss me like that again,” She said, her chest rising and falling with short breaths. A lopsided, sunny smile flashing across her mouth.

Dafni stood on her tiptoes as she threw her arms around his neck, drawing his lips to her own again and again and once more for good measure. Her hand cupped his face, her thumb stroking softly against the sharp line of his cheek. 

A shiver ran through her as he dragged the tips of his middle and index fingers down the sensitive flesh of her inner arm. His touch wandered along her bicep, carefully tracing the delicate outline of the hardy muscle beneath the trimmings of girlish fat. His hand wrapped around the outside of her arm next, giving her a gentle squeeze before continuing his exportation of the shaking limb. His thumb glided along the line of her vena amoris, strumming a soundless melody that reverberated against the walls of her heart. 

He followed the vein to the pulse point hammering at her wrist. Her breath caught in her throat as the warmth of his kiss slipped away. Dafni made a sour expression of protest but Astarion paid her no mind. Gingerly, he brought her wrist to his lips. A feather-light peck tickled her skin before he clasped her dainty hand in his own. The corners of his lips quirked up in a spellbinding grin. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side sending a singular ivory ringlet loose from that splendid head of hair. His left hand came to rest just above the small of her back. She leaned forward in a fruitless attempt to restore the kiss, but she was only able to catch the very corner of his roguish mouth.

“What happened to holding, and kissing and making me yours?” Dafni inquired in a playful mockery of his cadence.

“I am still holding you,” He reminded the hand on her back, pushing her closer for emphasis, “and I did kiss you. As for making you mine...All in good time, dear.” He purred, lips brushing the long line of her ear, “Tell me, sweet girl, do you know how to dance?”

“I- Yes, I know how to dance...”

“I thought so,” Astarion nodded thoughtfully. The hand on her back traveled up to the base of her shoulder blade. He gently nudged her arm upwards until to rest atop his. “ A pretty creature like you must be the star of all sorts of quaint fetes. I want to be certain that at the next little soirée you attend, you’ll spend the evening scanning the crowd for my face. And every time some brave young lord or lady plucks up the courage to ask for a dance, those perfect lips will turn ever so slightly upwards as you decline. Because every time you hear a waltz all you’ll be able to think of is the man in the glen and the passionate, consummate sex you had with him.” 

Dafni’s heart threatened to burst. There she was, Dafni Ríwen, Thesmia’s sheltered, unexceptional daughter of controversial paternity. The girl who sat on the sideline of every formal gathering she’d ever attended with an empty dance card and a sullen pout, seen as an unquestionable first water by the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on! She felt her footing wobble but Astarion’s confidence held her steady and sure. She knew it was only a bit of fun but she’d spent decades dreaming of finding herself in a situation very much like this one and by the hells she was going to enjoy it! 

Astarion was clearly versed in the art of ballroom seduction. He led her through the waltz as sure-footed as anything. Though there was no music, his rhythm never faulted. Moreover, he held her much closer than was proper. His hand had fallen to the curve of her waist rather than her shoulder. Her body felt as if it had been set alight at each point of contact. 

If they were truly in a ballroom some overzealous chaperone would have certainly made a fuss. While the fey were certainly creatures of revelry and carnal pleasure, they held a certain fondness for priority and decorum that seemed to outsiders rather contradictory. But, to the people of Faerie, it all made perfect sense. A chaperone scolds a young couple for improperly and perhaps the attention would incite a reaction from a rival suitor leading to a dispute of honor. Perhaps they proved the final push for a public delectation of love. Or, at the very least, the blushing lovers might seek out some secret place to continue their dalliance now colored with the excitement of rebellion.

The wicked curve of his smile and her previous encounter with him in these very woods, lead Dafni to believe that Astarion was exactly the sort of libertine who was all too thrilled to be given an excuse to sneak off for a bit of secret bedsport. A yearning sigh fell from her chest as she pictured herself laid for him in one of the Summer Queen’s manicured hedge mazes. She bit back a lewd noise as she pictured some hapless party goer stumbling across them still in the throes of amorous relations. 

All in good time, She repeated to herself as she picked her thighs together.

___

When I make a new OC, I always include a tiny piece of myself, a hobby, skill, or habit. It's always something small but acts as the proverbial  "baby's first laugh"  à la the fairies of Neverland for characters.  I don't usually share what that spark is, but rather keep them as little in-jokes for myself and those closest to me. As a little peek behind the curtain, I will share that Dafni inherited my love of romance novels. I'm sure it's no surprise to anyone who follows my tumblr I am a lover of smutty, historical, and fantasy literature. This fic is my love letter to Tessa Dare, Lisa Kleypas, and all of the other women whose stories provide me with a much-needed escape during an awful year as well as inspiring me to write once more. Part two coming soon! (Also yes, the vena amoris is an old wives tale BUT it's very romantic, and who's to say elves don't have the fictitious heart vein?)

[humanityinahandbag]

good omens: bagged lunch

This summer I volunteered abroad in Israel, and lost all connection to home, and in that time a certain fandom exploded and I missed the beginnings of it. So here I am now. Sauntering vaguely downward into hell with some ideas of my own.

There’s this little idea for post Good Omens that I just can’t seem to shake, wherein Aziraphale (connoisseur of all things delicious and human that he is) would always feel the need to pack Crowley lunches whenever he was off to meetings in Hell, tutting, “Oh Crowley, I know you don’t feel as if eating is essential, but for my sake, dear, can’t you just try to nibble on a biscuit or two? You’re all sinew and wobble!”

And even if he protests, Aziraphale can usually tempt him with promises to pack boiled eggs and tuna and all sorts of smelly things that would disagree with noses. How ghastly and malicious of him, it would be to bring that into a meeting! The Agreement practically begged for this sort of cooperation, didn’t it?

(And tuna is Crowley’s favorite. Especially when Aziraphale remembers to chop up the little cornichons inside and slice it triangularly.) 

So Crowley, to appease his Angel, dutifully takes the paper bags handed to him before the both of them venture to their respective places of meeting. 

The thing that I can’t make myself quite get over, though?

Aziraphale and Crowley spent so much time swapping notes quietly over duck ponds or trading secrets in three separate rendezvous locations. 

Notes are something the Angel has not only acclimated himself with, but they’re something he enjoys. The dangerous side of him wants to send them in lieu of being a spy. The Angelic side of him wants to be caring. The Best Friend/Something More side wants to pour affections. The human side? 

Well. 

How very human it is to show affection through food and the little notes that such a gesture would also contain!

He always thought it clever when humans sent little messages in lunchboxes! Food and love? At the same time? His heart bursts just thinking about it. 

It’s a custom he’d be quick to adopt. Scribbling little messages on bits of scrap paper and tucking them away next to a small bag of sliced apples. 

What I’m saying here is;

Aziraphale would 100% send Crowley to Hell with a paper bag lunch and a written note. 

And when Crowley is drooping, bored after hour three of a pointless Demon meeting, he’d reach into the little bag as loudly as he could and peel the sandwich out, trying to play it smooth, until the little piece of paper would flutter out unexpectantly into the center. 

Hastur would grab at it while Crowley was mid bite into a wonderfully crunchy cornichon'd tuna on white bread. 

“Dearest,” the demon would read out loud, squinting at the paper. Crowley froze mid-chew. “Enjoy lunch. I remembered to pack it the way you like. You’re ever so wonderful. Don’t forget to voice all those smart ideas of yours at the meeting. Pick up the laundry. And take off your glasses once to give your eyes a break. Remember the last time you strained them? Heart Heart Heart.” Hastur stared at the note and held it up to Crowley, whose glasses were slipping down his nose. “He drew some flowers, too. Do you want to see?” 

Crowley quickly snatched the note away. 

Beelzebub, from down at the head of the long table, blinked languidly. “Right,” they said. “So back to our monthly quotas, then?” 

Later he’d beseech his Angel not to do something like that again. 

“But it’s a human expression of affection,” the Angel protested. “And I don’t see how it ruins your reputation at all, having notes sent down. People pray to the devil all the time. I’m sure his mailbox is brimming.”

“With evil! No one sends him lots of little hearts and flowers.”

Aziraphale would sniff. “Fine,” he’d say. “No more flowers.”

“Thank you.” 

Aziraphale would keep his promise. Next time there was a joke. 

It landed in the center of the table when Crowley dragged out a double dark chocolate cookie. 

Beelzebub was the one who got to it first, that time. 

“Why don’t they play poker in the jungle.” She stood on her chair, reading aloud. Crowley was face first on the table, gently smacking his forehead against a squished bag of deviled eggs. 

Ligur piped up, “why, or Lord of Hell!”

Beelzebub turned the paper over, scanning the lilac ink. “Too many cheetazzzz.” It took a moment for collective recognition to kick in. Once it had, they were all doubled over. “I understand! Word play! How drab! Crowley! Tell your Angel to keep zzzending these!” They flipped over the paper again, unfolding a little corner. “Oh. Sorry. Forgot to read; XOXOXOXO - lots of kisses, darling. Eat your vegetables before the cookie.” She looked down to where Crowley was face down on the table, pillowed by squished eggs. “There are pepperzzzzz in that bag,” they glared. “You did not follow the Angelzzz instructions.”

“Got it,” he groaned. “Will do. Next time.” 

“I am going to tell him,” said Beelzebub. “Ligur. Write a letter to the Principality Azzzziraphale. Send it through Gabriel. Crowley did not eat his vegetablezzz first.”

“I shall, Lord of Hell.” 

Crowley dropped his head to the table. 

It only gets worse from there. Because Aziraphale, who often did a lot of people watching from the flat above his shop, began noticing that doting parents would often drew on the paper bags. 

And wasn’t that to be a whole other story. 

“Look!” A lesser demon held up the bag excitedly. Crowley rubbed his temples. “He drew a picture of them married. Wrote A + C under it and everything!”

“What a gallant gezzzzzture,” said Beelzebub, eyes sparking up new ideas for the Archangel with whom she’d been speaking to for the past few millenium. “Crowley. Pick your head up off the table and gazzzzze upon the mazzzzterpiece your Lover has created for you.” 

“No. Thank you. M’good,” Crowley groaned. 

“As Lord of the Underworld, I command it! Gaze! And be enthralled!” 

The only way the entire situation gets any better, is when Crowley begins to pack lunches for Aziraphale. 

Angels, who are attracted to Love like moths to a windshielf wiper, would likely stop an entire meeting just to dote and fawn upon the notes Crowley would send Aziraphale’s way. 

“He’s doing this to be spiteful.” True enough. He was. Aziraphale trapped his face between his fingers. “Don’t indulge!” 

“Oh, but Principality! He has drawn the most delightful series of hearts upon this paper!” Michael stroked the little bit of torn off notebook paper. “And he has even written you a poem! Shall I read it?”

“No!” 

They read it anyway. 

Crowley does more than that. 

Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly devilish (or Aziraphale cut him off of wine the night before and how fucking dare he do that - he’ll get his revenge) he’ll send more... risque notes.  

With illustrations. 

Both of which an angel will find when they lunge for the lunch bag emanating love. 

“Principality,” Urial with announce, voice like thunder and wind chimes and vengeance and hope all at once, holding the torn paper up like a flaming sword. “It is foretold by this message that your Demon would like to...” she’d squint at the note, nodding. “flip you like a crepe and smash you to next Armageddon.” 

Aziraphale was quietly asking God to smite him. 

“Principality,” says Michael, sitting primly at the table. “We should reply.” 

There was a nod and murmuring appreciation round the table. 

“Ah,” said Aziraphale, quietly, clearing his very dry throat. “I think we’d better not.”

“Nonsense! This note radiates affection. Love! He is a demon who yearns for your forgiveness and heavenly warmth. It is your duty to reply, Aziraphale!”

The next half hour is spent crafting a good note back while Aziraphale begs God to please, if he asks really, really nicely, can’t she just smite him a little? 

“Sir!” Urial jumps up triumphantly. “I have found a website on my mobile telephone! It is called urban dictionary!”

“Splendid! What’s it do?”

“It apparently helps craft love letters for Demons! It suggests we write back that Principality Aziraphale would find great joy in seeing Dat Ass in some apple bottomed jeans, sir. And that he’d very much like to bang him like a tamborine, sir.” 

“Poetry!” Exclaims Gabriel. “Someone get a pen!” 

Aziraphale decides that if God won’t smite him, he may have to smite Crowley when he got home. 

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Roman’s Birthday: A Tale of Self Discovery

I wrote this while listening to Tale of the Mountain by @spectralheartt so it is heavily influenced by that song.

Word Count: 2,778

Roceit, can be seen as platonic or romantic. The name of the kingdom is an anagram of Imagination.

Roman tore through his room, grabbing all the pages he had on his desk and wrapping them with twine, putting them and as many pens as he could grab at once into his bag. His squire stood at the door, the scroll still in his hand. In a flurry of motion, Roman strapped his sword belt on and picked up his shield, bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Aright, I think I’m ready. Do you have everything you need?” He asked the squire in front of him. 

“I think so. Shall I get the horses ready?”

Roman nodded. “Yes, that would be best.” He strode out of the room, going down the opposite corridor as his squire. He strode through the halls, searching for the one person who he actually wanted to talk to before he left.

Finding him, he crept into the room to surprise his twin brother. Remus stepped to the side at the last second, causing Roman to fall onto his face instead of pounce on the other’s back. Remus cackled. “Having fun, are we?”

Roman rolled onto his back. “Help me up, would you?”

Remus laughed but complied. “So, are you off?” The usually playful man was serious, face a mask of stone.

Roman nodded as he felt his own face settle into a similar mask. “As soon as the horses are ready. Are you sure you won’t go with me?”

Remus nodded. “Yes. Someone has to look after the kingdom while you are gone.”

“But Father is still alive, he’s the king.” Roman pointed out matter of factly.

“Of course. But someone has to make trouble to keep this place interesting. Besides, I don’t think Mother could handle both of us going to war at once.”

“I’m not going off to war. I’m just going to slay a dragon. I’ll be home before you know it.”

Remus slapped him on the back. “Then get going.”

Roman turned, gripping his brother’s forearms. “Take care of yourself, will you?”

Remus nodded, returning the grip briefly before shoving his brother away. “Alright, stop with the sap.” Roman nodded and left.

 In a few minutes, he was off, galloping down the hill and toward the mountain. He let the horse run as fast as they wanted, giving it free rein. The mountain was a few weeks ride away from the castle and they spent the first two hours in silence as Roman enjoyed the feeling of riding for a long while. After they slowed a bit to conserve energy, he began recounting tales of past glory, battles hard fought and won.

The three weeks passed quickly as Roman sang tales in the day and wrote others at night. Soon, they were upon the mountain. For the most part, the horses were capable of traversing the terrain. However, they had to turn the horses back about halfway up as it got too steep for them. The knight prince and squire continued to climb the mountain on foot. 

It took them another half day to climb the mountain up to the cave it was said the dragon came from. They entered the cave, camping in the entrance for the night. In the morning, they ventured deeper. Roman looks for any sign of the dragon, eventually seeing a side tunnel with a scale sitting in it. Quietly, he pointed it out to the squire and they both went down the path, making sure to stay low. Eventually, they reached the end of the tunnel.

It opened out into a large chamber filled with treasure. Curled up on the piles of precious gems, suits of armor, splendid clothes, and many other things Roman was unable to see at the time,was a large dragon. It was an olive green with claws as long as Roman’s sword

The squire didn’t stop fast enough and stepped into a pile of gold coins, making a clatter before Roman could pull him back by the collar of his tunic. The dragon stirred, opening an eye to reveal an iris the color of molten gold. It reared its massive head until it was facing the knight prince and the squire. “Who are you? What do you want?” The voice boomed from the dragon, echoing off the caverns until it seemed to come from every nook and crevice.

Roman squared his shoulders, dropping the squire in favor of pulling his sword from its scabbard. “I am Prince Roman of Initiomagna! I have come to slay you, vile dragon!” 

The dragon almost seemed to sigh. “If that is your wish, I shall not go quietly.” Without warning, a claw swept within inches of Roman’s chest, causing him to throw up his shield instinctively.

The battle was on. Roman fell into familiar patterns of striking, retreating, blocking, deflecting, and moving. His feet moved on their own as he advanced, practically wading forward in the piles of riches that went unnoticed. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins and almost laughed as he felt more alive now than he had in years. It felt as if he had been drowning while at home but was now able to have his first breath of air in years.

The battle raged for hours, neither willing to give up and surrender, both knowing it would be to the death. As the hours wanned, Roman could feel his strength slipping away. He could feel the fatigue settle into his bones, the adrenaline fading. He knew the battle was almost over, knew he would lose. Sure enough, claws came down and Roman was unable to bring his shield up in time, his sword piercing the dragon’s hide at the same time, seeming to go into the heart. They raked over his chest, leaving deep gouges that filled with blood. Roman fell against a pile, going limp as the light faded from his eyes. He could hear the squire scream and a deep rumble go through the cave, followed by running footsteps. Then, his eyes were closed and he knew no more.

When his eyes fluttered open, he found that he was in a different cave. The sounds of a fire could be heard somewhere off to the side, the smoke funneling through a hole in the ceiling. His armor was off, leaving him in only his under tunic and leggings. He could feel something pressing on his chest but didn’t see anything. Groaning, he tried to sit up, only for human hands to push him back down at the shoulders.

“If you don’t want to rip yourself in half you will stay lying down for the time being.” A voice that belonged to the hands said. The bed creaked and settled as the person sat on the edge of it, looking down into Roman’s face.

Roman looked back up at the person. A male in black clothing, a half cape edged in yellow wrapped around his shoulders. He had a hat on his head and half his face was concealed in shadows. “Who are you?” Roman managed to get out.

The man turned to look at him, his face still in shadows no matter the angle. “You can call me Janus.”

“What are you?” Slipped out before Roman could process that he was thinking it. It was a valid question as he never knew anyone who could manipulate shadows to do something like what he was seeing done.

Janus laughed. “Some call me a witch.” His answer was noncommittal, almost as if that wasn’t the full answer.

“Where am I? Where is the squire I brought with me?”

“When I found you, a wounded dragon was crouched next to your body. You looked dead even to an experienced healer like me. Your squire probably ran back to wherever you came from to tell your family of your joint demise. As for your location, you are still in the mountain, just in my personal chambers.”

Roman nodded, feeling sleep pull at him. He gave into the soft tugging, allowing his eyes to close and slumber to claim him once more. He spent the next three weeks recovering, at the end of which he was allowed to sit up and walk if he took it slow. It took him another few months to fully recover.

In that time, he found that he enjoyed Janus’ company and preferred the simple way of living in the caverns of the mountain to the extravagance of the castle. He learned his way around every nook and crevice, knowing where to sit for the best sunlight, where best to practice his sword skills. He learned the mountain as if it were the back of his hand and came to love it as home.

Within that time, it was also revealed that Janus was the dragon he had come to slay. Janus is a peaceful creature, capable of shifting between dragon form and human form. The only drawback is that, in human form, he still had to bear his scales on the left half of his face. There, his eye was still the molten gold rather than the warm brown of his human eye. His nostril was pointed and snakelike. He even had a fang on that side. When it was all explained that the village was the one to attack Janus first and he had simply gotten back what was his, Roman understood.

They lived in peace together for years, almost a decade when then the peace was interrupted. Roman had been tending the small farm they kept on the side of the mountain when a laugh rang out. It wasn’t Janus’ and Roman certainly hadn’t been laughing at the time so he looked around for the source of the noise. Janus came out onto the mountainside to stand beside Roman as they heard a different laugh ring out.

Eventually, three travelers came up the mountain. One had a black cloak that could have matched Janus’ capelet but covered a tunic of purple. Another was covered in a gray cloak with a tunic the color of the sky. The third was not wearing a cloak but a blue tunic that matched the color of a deep lake. They all came around the bend, the one in gray making yet another joke that caused the one in black to laugh, matching the second laugh that had rung out. 

Roman and Janus exchanged glances as they stood there, waiting to be noticed. It wasn’t long before the travelers saw them and stopped in their path. It was easy for Roman to look intimidating as his tunic had been discarded on such a hot day and his scars were on full display. They looked between Roman and Janus, taking in the shadows he had conjured to cover his scales even in direct sunlight and Roman’s scars that proved he had lived through some things.

The one rivaling a lake stepped forward and bowed. “Good sirs, as it is near dusk, might we beg shelter for the night? We have our own food, you will not have to worry about feeding us.”

Roman looked to Janus as he was the original owner of the house. Janus crossed his arms. “What are you doing on this mountain?”

“We are on our way to visit the monastery at the top, sir.”

Janus looked to Roman, who shrugged. “I don’t see why not as long as they watch out for Baby.”

Janus smirked, knowing Baby was Roman’s endearing term for Janus’ dragon form. “Of course, we wouldn’t want Baby to get hurt.”

The one rivaling the sky stepped forward. “Who is Baby?”

Janus smiled and Roman knew he was tempted to say, ‘I is Baby’ as he had said so often. Instead, he said, “Baby is another creature that lives in this cave system. You will treat him with respect if you ever come across him.”

All three solemnly nodded before they were ushered into the caves, the one in black releasing a sigh of relief. Roman moved to stoke the fire as Janus showed them an empty cave they could stay in for the night. Janus came back and Roman looked over at him, the shadows having been dropped to conserve energy.

“How do we want to go about this?” Roman asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do we want to just mention Baby and never show him? Do we want as little contact as possible? Do we want to scare them with stories? What do we want to do?”

“I could conjure some minor illusions to have such things as heavy footsteps, scales against stone, seeing a tail out of the corner of the eye. I know you have been itching to have other people know some of the stories that have been trapped in your head for so long.”

“So, I scare them and you top it off? Sounds like a plan.”

That night, Roman had all three guests sitting around the fire before he started his story. “Tell me, do you know the tale of the mountain?”

The one in purple shook his head, bangs falling into his eyes but he made no move to fix them. The one dressed as the sky also shook his head, bouncing in his seat. Janus just looked on, enjoying how Roman’s eyes lit up as he dove into his tale.

“I swear it’s true.” He recounted how he set out, not speaking from where or his status, intent on slaying a dragon. As he spoke, he made gestures with his hands, having all four people engaged in the story. He spoke of the epic battle between himself and the dragon. “As my heart was set a-pounding, I saw that all that glitters isn't gold. For as I gazed upon the hoard of treasure lost to a collapsed cavern, a mighty dragon sat upon it.”

He recalled the battle, embellishing here and there to the point that Janus was described as having been able to use his witch powers in dragon form as well. He spoke of a fake cavern collapse, the treasure lost to time. When he was done, he repeated his beginning lines. “So tell me, do you know the tale of the mountain?”

This time, they nodded. Roman continued. “Tell me, do you hear the call of the mountain? Tell me, do you feel the soul of the mountain?” He reached out, hand connecting with the ground beneath them. “I swear it’s true.”

Janus smiled as the others clapped. The one looking like a lake didn’t clap, but stared intently at Roman. Finally, he spoke up. “My apologies sir but, did you happen to give us your name?”

Roman’s smile grew forced, fake. He knew how to hide his feelings behind smiles and could almost feel the all too familiar stone mask settle back into place as his face took on his polite company face. “Do, I did not happen to give you my name.”

The man nodded. “However, I do believe that we know you.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Do you happen to be from Initiomagna?”

“Yes. Are you also from there?”

“No, but I have happened to hear the story of the crown prince who went to slay a dragon but lost his life in the process. This left the kingdom bereft as the king and queen died from their grief and the younger prince took the throne. He has been ruling with an iron fist for nine years, wasting resources and draining the citizens of the land of every resource as he went to war with many neighboring countries.” He recalled the facts with such a flat voice one would think he was speaking of the weather instead of the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.

Janus quickly stood and held his hands out to Roman, who buried himself in his chest. Janus rubbed his back. “It’ll be alright. At first light we can set out and help, okay? For now we need to sleep.”

They didn’t have the energy to prank their guests that night as Janus was having a hard time convincing Roman to sleep instead of putting on his armor and murdering his brother. As it was, they ended up sparing with Janus in dragon form until Roman collapsed from exhaustion in the early hours of the morning.

Janus fed their guests breakfast and sent them on their way before gathering up any necessary supplies, this included getting traveling funds from the hoard. He then set up an illusion so no one could steal the hoard while he was gone. Once all that was done, he woke Roman and they were off, journeying to save the kingdom from a tyrant. 

[mimymomo]

Don’t Forget To Say I Love You Part 1

Orphydice Soulmate au! Orphydice Soulmate au!!

Title from Reeve Carney’s “Don’t Forget to Say I Love You”

...

Orpheus couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate. He dreamed of holding them close in his arms, of their warm smile, the sweet sound of their voice, and laugh. He wondered what color their eyes would be, the exact shade of their hair. Would they be small and feisty? Tall and demure? Would they be an early bird and take joy in watching the morning sun peek out from the horizon every morning? Or a night owl, spending those dark nights snuggled up under a blanket, cracking jokes basked in the moonlight until finally caving to slumber? Did they love music? Did they prefer fast lively songs with pulsing beats and heavy bass? Music that called for dancing close in the dark, played in the neon lights of a smoky club? Or did they prefer slower ballads, swaying back and forth to the melodious tunes of brass instruments and piano? What were their hobbies, their likes, and dislikes, their favorite colors, and seasons? Orpheus dreamed of the answers to them all. 

He constantly found himself staring down at the static number tattooed to his forearm: 24198. Twenty four thousand, one hundred and ninety-eight days. That’s nearly sixty-seven years. Sixty-seven years to spend with his soulmate, to spend by someone's side. Sixty-seven years to have someone to have and hold, love and cherish, to be within the brightest and darkest of times. Someone, he’d get to experience the rest of life with. Orpheus wanted that closeness, ached for that next level of intimacy. 

His parents didn’t last. According to Mister Hermes, a now distant friend of his mother, Orpheus’ parents weren’t soulmates, but to them, that didn’t matter. They were in love. Their relationship, a turbulent storm of passion and lust was followed quickly by a fervent marriage and abrupt divorce, leaving behind a small child in its wake, Orpheus. A casualty of two young lovers falling out of love. 

His mother was still young when her marriage dissolved and Orpheus was born. A youthful and wild summer flower, not ready to be tied down to the burdens of motherhood. She hungered for freedom and independence, not a curious toddler who constantly cried for attention and teethed. She itched to leave, and one day, she did. She walked into Hermes’ bar, a barely coherent Orpheus in her arms and a baby bag strapped to her shoulder. “I want to find my other half, to live my life. I need this Hermes,” the young woman cried passively, handing the toddler over to the older gentleman, adjusting the aviator glasses stuck into her hair. “I’ll be back once I find him.”

And with a toss of her velvety caramel hair, and not a single glance back, she was gone. Orpheus didn’t blame her for leaving him behind, couldn’t. Even for the short time he had been in his mother’s care, he could tell that her heart had not been in it. While he was with her, her mind was somewhere else, not tucked away in their quaint one-bedroom apartment, but out somewhere far away. Orpheus always wondered if his mother had ever managed to find her soulmate? If she was happier now? He hopes she is. In the twenty years since she left, she never returned to the bar- was she still out there looking or had she just forgotten about him in the process? Orpheus wasn’t sure which one he would rather be the case.  

Orpheus viewed what happened to his parents as the worst outcome, something he wanted to avoid at all costs. They were why he was so adamant about finding his soulmate. He wouldn’t face the same ill-fate as his folks, his heart couldn’t bear it. He would love his soulmate with all he had, he wouldn’t leave them as things get difficult. He told his vision to everyone who’d listen: his soulmate would come marching through the doors and Orpheus would instantly know they were the one. They would chat then reach for each other’s hands, their numbers would begin The Countdown, as most called it and they would live happily ever after. He would hold them forever, never letting them go. They would walk hand and hand, side by side through any storm or change. 

Mister Hermes and Lady Persephone had always called a hopeless romantic, joked that his head was stuck in the clouds, that his eyes were permanently tinted rose-colored. He spoke in sonnets and could only see the world for what it could be. As a child, Orpheus had minded the teasing, thinking that the two adults hated his quirks and flowery mind. He brought up his concerns one night as Mister Hermes was tucking him into bed.

“Child, I wished more people could be like you. The world would be a much more pleasant place if that were the case,” Hermes said. 

“You mean that?” the young boy asked, voice full of hope, eyes wide and bright.

“With all my heart,” he replied. Orpheus trusted the older man’s words and hadn’t doubted himself since. He kept his head in the clouds, he continued to write melodies and lyrics he once heard in his dreams. He kept his eyes wide, soul light and heart open. Others called him naive and too soft, but Orpheus learned to pay them no mind. 

“Orpheus,” Hermes called out snapping the boy out of his daydream. 

“Yes, Mister Hermes, sir?” Orpheus replied, still in a slight daze.

“You peering at that number again?” he asked pointedly, his tone reminiscent of a father scolding a young child over stealing a cookie from the jar before dinner.

Orpheus tugged the end of his pulled up shirt down over his arm, “no…”

Hermes sighed, “Boy, what did I tell you about having your eyes glued to that number of yours at work?”

Orpheus lowered his head, “not to.”

Hermes walked over and placed a hand on the poets sagging shoulders, “they’ll come, Poet. Just gotta be patient.” Orpheus gave his guardian a small smile before pulling out a damp dishrag from the front pocket of his apron. As he started to dry the freshly washed glasses, steam still radiating from off their rims, his mind wandered back to his soulmate. Would tonight finally be the night where they would walk through those doors? Orpheus could only hope and pray to the gods that it was. But whether it was tonight, tomorrow, months or even years down the line, there was one thing that Orpheus was certain of, he loved his soulmate with all his heart and soul. And he couldn’t wait to meet them.

… 

Eurydice hated her soulmate. Sure, she had never met the person before, but with just one glance down to the dark printed numbers etched into her tan skin, a burning sense of rage coursed through her veins. Ever since childhood, she was never a fan of the whole soulmate concept. The fact that the number of days you had to live post-meeting the supposed “person your soul most desires,” permanently stuck to your arm never sat well with Eurydice. To some, it was romantic but to her, it was just a cruel reminder of your fate and mortality, that life wasn’t permanent and death was coming for them all. 

Her father, when he actually was home and not blacked out drunk, would always without fail, give her such a somber look whenever she would walk into a room. Was it pity from the pathetically tiny number on her arm? Or maybe it was from the guilt of dooming his only child with such a short existence just like what happened to her mother? Eurydice didn’t know nor did she care to ask. She hated the damn pity everyone dealt her once they saw her number, that they mourned the end of her life like she wasn’t still alive and breathing in front of them. She was a walking ghost that unfortunately, everyone was still cursed to see. 

Eurydice quickly developed rules that she followed to a “T”: she took to wearing long sleeves or a jacket, even in the hottest of months, just to spare herself the accidental peek. She would keep to herself, always wear a sharp glare to keep others from coming too close. If someone didn’t get the message and chose to approach, she refused to let them talk first, checking the state of their clock before allowing them to speak. Of course, she knew that she was just prolonging the inevitable but she had plans, things in the future she needed to accomplish before she kicked the bucket. If no one wanted to believe she would live long enough to see those dreams become a reality, then she’d just have to prove them wrong. 

Eurydice was walking around aimlessly after an exhausting day; she had to attend all four of her classes and her boss had called her in to do an extra shift despite today being her day off. And to make matters worse, the heating in her apartment had decided to go out on one of the coldest days in March. So, to say she was tired and more than a bit pissed off would be an extreme understatement. 

The sun had set and the moon was out, shining in its full glory. The smoke and lights from the city buildings made seeing any star in the sky nearly impossible. She continued to walk down the street further away from her apartment, had no clue where she was heading, no set location or direction. She stepped one foot in front of the other, the wind harshly whipping at her face, eyes getting teary. Why did she think this was a good idea? She should’ve stayed in her icebox of an apartment.

Suddenly, a flashing neon sign grabbed her attention. The splendid fluorescent light, obnoxiously blinding in contrast to the dark indigo sky. HERMES, it spelled out in large, incandescent letters, hanging from the side of the building just at the end of the street corner. She didn’t know what drew her to the building but she quickly found herself fast tracking down the pavement, to the front of the brick building. She pulled open the heavy wooden door and was greeted to a rush of hot air, the sour smell of liquor, a hint of smoke and something...floral, wafted around the room. 

She cautiously tiptoed into the bar and looked around the establishment. It was virtually dead besides one or two other patrons. Well, I guess it makes sense. It is a Wednesday.

With scant more courage, Eurydice marched over to the bar counter. As long as she was stuck in here, she might as well get a drink. She sat down in tall barstool, her feet dangling slightly off the ground. She waved her hand to get the bartender's attention, but his back was turned to her, humming an unfamiliar tune. After another minute, Eurydice spoke up,“‘Scuse me.”

That was her first mistake. Rule number one: never speak up first. So simple yet so vital. 

The young bartender turned around and jumped. His humming silenced and his sweet, yet professional smile shifted at the sight of the woman who called for his attention. Despite his best efforts to appear neutral and undisturbed, his eyes went wide and mouth hung partially agape. Eurydice felt the air escape her chest, this boy was beautiful. Warm hazel eyes, brown shaggy hair that reached mid-forehead and a cute boyish face. He was on the taller lanky side, but Eurydice swore she could see the tiniest bit of muscle poke out from the cuff of his worn white shirt. A striking red bandana was tied snugly around his neck, the color matching his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

Orpheus was in awe. The young woman in front of him was beautiful, stunning, an angel. Her face was round, chubby cheeks and nose a dusty red from being outside in the cold. The end curls of her midnight black hair reached just above her shoulders and her bangs were perfectly symmetrical. Her oversized wool coat draped over her small frame. Orpheus focused on her eyes, oh, her eyes. Her eyes reminded Orpheus of melting chocolate, sweet and rich and utterly enticing. As he stared into them deeper and deeper, he struggled not to melt from their heat and completely indulge in their splendor. 

Eurydice whipped her head to the side and forcibly cleared her throat, Orpheus taking note of the white feather that was clipped in her hair. “I, I’m sorry,” Orpheus sputtered, jumping back into action. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“An old fashioned,” Eurydice answered, eyes still glued to anywhere but the cute bartender in front of her. Orpheus nodded and got to work on her drink, restarting that song he was humming earlier once again. “What song you humming?” Eurydice asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Oh, it’s just something I’m working on,” Orpheus smiled.

“You a singer?”

“Singer, musician, and writer. I play the guitar and perform here sometimes.”

“Wow, a real jack of all trades you are,” Eurydice smirked, snorting lightly. 

Orpheus laughed, “I guess you could say that. What brings you here?” 

“The heater in my apartment kicked the bucket,” Eurydice sighed. 

“Oooh, I’m sorry,” Orpheus said, more than a hint of concern lacing his voice.

Eurydice just waved him off, “it’s whatever. Just gotta call the landlord in the morning.”

Orpheus gave her a small grin, the ends of his mouth curling up the slightest bit, “least you’re out of the cold now, right?”

Eurydice gave a nod, returning the grin, “yeah, you’re right.”

 Orpheus poured the finished drink into a polished glass and gently handed it over to the young woman, “your drink.”

That’s when Eurydice broke the second most important rule: no touching. 

She carelessly reached out to grab the glass and before she knew it placed her hand over Orpheus’. “I’m sorry-” Orpheus began until a sharp, pain-filled groan forced him to let go of the glass, causing Eurydice to nearly drop it on the counter. Orpheus stared down at where the pain was coming from: his forearm. With a shaky hand, he slowly peeled his shirt sleeve back and glanced downwards. He gasped, his number, once a dull gray was now a searing blistering red. The Countdown had started.

Eurydice set the drink down and turned back to the young man. “Hey, what gives? Are you-” she gazed down at what he was staring at. No, no, no, oh gods, please no! Eurydice began to back away but before she could step too far Orpheus reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Wait!”

Eurydice froze. A quick excruciating sting began to radiant from her arm, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Tears sprung into eyes, salty and involuntary. This couldn’t be happening, not now. She had so much to do, so much planned. She had been so careful for all these years, and it was all for nothing. 

“Come home with me!” 

Eurydice whipped from head up and glared at the boy, eyes ablaze. Who the hell was this guy? First, he ruins her life and now he’s trying to lure her back to his place just to get a quick fuck? Screw him. She felt scalding hot, a pool of poisonous venom boil in the pit of her stomach. “Who are you?” she lowly growled. 

“The man who’s gonna marry you!” he answered earnestly with desperate eyes. “I’m Orpheus.”

Orpheus. Orpheus, that was his name. Orpheus, the name of the damned man who ruined her life forever. “I hate you,” she whispered ghostly quiet, head tilted to the floor. She watched as tiny droplets of hot tears fell to the dirty floor.

Orpheus frowned, a chill ran up his spine. He was stunned by his soulmate’s reaction, “what?”

Eurydice ripped her hand away and held it close to her chest as if just touching Orpheus brought her all the discomfort in the world. “I hate you!” she screamed through teary eyes and ran to and out the bar door, leaving a confused and heartbroken Orpheus behind.

Eurydice tore out the bar, down the street, past her apartment complex, further and further into the dark envelope of the night. She just ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. Her knees buckled and her chest was on fire, each intake of frigid air burning her lungs but she kept running. She ran until she reached the edge of town, right in front of the public park. She fell to her knees and sobbed. She sobbed for the future she’d never have, for the dreams she’d never accomplish. She sobbed for herself and Orpheus, the poor bartender who had done knowing wrong and now was cursed with her shit luck. She sobbed for her fate and her limited days left. She sobbed and sobbed and never once looked at her number, couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not that she needed to, she had it memorized: 

    194.

    One hundred and ninety-four days. 

She’d be dead in just over six months.

She ducked her head into her knees and mournfully sobbed as the rays of moonlight gleamed up above, bathing her in there light. She couldn’t escape her fate, no matter how hard she tried. 

[thebiasrekkers]

Way To You

For the @btswriterscorner​ - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day! 

Plot: Taehyung is happy with his life because that’s how he’s supposed to feel. He lives his life by routine to the minute. In the new world order, love is a dangerous emotion - and therefore illegal.  That’s perfectly fine - until the lingering ‘dreams’ of a strange woman throw him out of sync. Mostly because that woman isn’t his wife. 

Rating: M // NSFW

Genre: dystopian! au/dystopian themes | angst |  smut | fluff if you squint

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female OC (Tempest Estrellado)

Warnings: Strong language, interracial relationship, mentions of drugs, blood, main character injury, implied smut 

Word Count: 2,886 

AN: This hot mess has 3 parts. Please enjoy and thank you for loving all that we do © thebiasrekkers (Admin T). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Links:

FAQ

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[ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

--

“Can we stay like this forever?” She always asked him this after. Their bodies drying in a cool summer breeze through an open window. Their limbs tangled and he could feel her breath against the skin of his neck. The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders. Taehyung kept his eyes closed, living within the sounds and sensations around him. His fingers could trace the colony of goosebumps on her skin. He could smell the heat of her so close. The faint sweet, salty mix of their love lingered on his lips turning upward into a dreamy smile. The rumble of his laugh deep and sensual caused her to smile. 

He could always remember her eyes - they were unique. Leonine. A golden-amber concoction, a genetic mutation that added something wild to the already fierce attitude within that petite form. 

His mouth formed her name, but he could never hear it. She tilted her gaze to his face as his fingers slid along her jaw. 

He’d always say something - it was something that he knew he shouldn’t be saying. But, they said it to each other. They said it freely. 

Then there was always pain that seared his mind. 

Then the alarm would ring and it would be forgotten again.

5:30 am. 

Wake up.

5:45 am.

Shower.

6 am.

Coffee. Toast. Protein bar.

6:15 am

Run 4 miles. 

7 am.

Shower again. Protein bar. Protein Shake.

7:15 am.

Lock the door.

7:55 am

Arrive at work. Clock in. 

8 am.

To say that Taehyung was methodical was to point out the obvious. He always showed up minutes early to work, making sure the office was lit and inviting. As inviting as their line of work was, anyway. He stared at a stack of folders on his desk. They never seemed to shrink, these stacks. Names, faces, and pertinent information lined flimsy manila folders.

It was time to gather candidates to increase the population. 

He sipped a cup of coffee as the voices began to filter into the office. Taehyung carried the stack of folders to the meeting room nearby. A presentation loaded as he stood in the corner. 

“Good morning, everyone. We’ve compiled the candidates for this year.” Everyone settled in their seats. 

He talked numbers and statistics for almost 3 hours. 

“Any other questions?” The room was silent as the lights brightened. “Alright, you know what to do.” They all stood with a nod in his direction before they filed out of the room. 

12 pm.

Lunch and coffee in his office. 

5 pm. 

Debriefing with The Council liaison. 

7 pm.

Lock up and head home. 

8 pm. 

Late Dinner.

“Taehyung, dinner is in the oven. I have to report to R&D tonight.” A female voice spoke softly as he walked into his home.

“I suppose it cannot be helped. Do be careful, April. Things have been slightly tense in the riot zone.” He hung up his jacket as his ‘Wife’ slid hers on. She offered a slight smile as she grabbed her badge. 

“Rest well, Taehyung.” A brief touch on his shoulder. Like a dear friend wishing another friend well. 

10 pm.

Sleep. 

“Taehyung! Seriously! You’re slow as molasses.” A voice taunted him, a petite figure outlined in front of him. He could feel himself licking his lips. An eagerness, an urgency to get his hands on her. 

She was teasing him. She knew better than to tease him. He felt heat fire through his veins. The world was so bright and vibrant. There was the crash of water, the air salty like the...sea? 

The ocean - the moon was full. Full like he hadn’t seen it in ages. When was the last time the sky looked like this? 

He called her name and she turned around, her full lips tilted upward in a smile. She reached behind her back tugging at the string of a bikini top. Turning away from him as it fell down her arms. He heard a sound, like an animal nearby. 

He realized it was him. He growled as the sight of skin glowing under the moonlight fueled him further. It was like time sped forward and he saw her face beneath him. Their bodies intertwined, her face scrunched in orgasmic bliss as she purred. He was losing his mind, he could swear he felt her around him. 

The sound of the ocean was like a lullaby as their voices crescendoed and they cried out freely. She dug her fingers into his back and dragged them across his shoulder blades. He roared as he exploded inside of her. 

Time went funny as they lay together, again, on the sands. Her face obscured as she leaned over him. She smiled down at him, saying something. She called him...something. The world began to fizzle as exhaustion washed over him. 

“We could stay like this forever, querido.” 

The pain was stronger this time. 

5:31 am

Turn the alarm off.

Taehyung clawed at the throbbing pain in his skull. He stumbled to the bathroom, reaching for the vitamins April reminded him constantly not to forget. He swallowed them down with a glass of water. 

He winced as the pain throbbed behind his eye. His hands gripped the sink until his knuckles were white. 

It took ten minutes for the pain to subside. 

Taehyung saw the reflection in the mirror and hardly recognized it. There were bags under bloodshot eyes. He splashed cold water on his face. He stripped down to jump into a hot spray of water. He stood there for fifteen minutes letting the water loosen his muscles. 

“What the hell was that?” 

Flashes of dreams kept creeping into his mind, the pain increased each time he tried to access them. 

7:27 am

Hasty breakfast. 

7:58 am

Barely makes it ‘early’. 

8:05 am

Two cups of coffee as he grabs the stack of folders for today’s patients.

“Good morning, everyone. We’ve compiled the candidates for today.” Everyone settled in their seats. 

There was a new face today. It was scary how all heads turned in her direction. She adjusted the glasses on her face as she stood. 

“I’ll be working with your department as the liaison from the Medical Division starting today.” She approached Taehyung with a hand extended. “My name is Tempest Estrellado.”

She looked up at him ...leonine eyes. Taehyung’s brow twitched momentarily as he accepted her hand. “Ms. Estrellado, a pleasure. I look forward to our continued success.” He held her hand for one second more than he should have. “If you please take your seat?” She offered a curt nod before settling in her seat. Tae cleared his throat, clapped for the lights to dim. 

Taehyung paced around the table slowly as he flipped between screens. Numbers, percentages, and her eyes are so bright even in the low light. He shook his head as he found himself staring at the top of her head. 

The peek of collarbone caused his lips to part as two people spoke on some extra bit of information just made available. His thoughts suddenly wandered to the delicate fingers tapping on the keypad of her tablet. 

“Mr. Kim…” Someone calling him had his gaze snapping upward. The young tech from R&D tilted her head. “...your thoughts, sir?” 

“Ah, right. If we run into the same rabid sequences as last year? Protocol as normal unless we get clearance to combine genetic materials. It is still a curious matter for The Council if proper citizens can come from Rebel couplings.” He waved a hand moving toward the front of the room. 

“Any other questions?” The room was silent as the lights brightened. “Alright, you know what to do.” They all stood with a nod in his direction before they filed out of the room.

1 pm 

Lunch.

1:30 pm

“Mr. Kim.” A voice caused him to look up from his desk. 

“Yes, Ms. Estrellado?” He wiped his mouth, cleared his hands and stood. An arm spread to offer her the seat in front of his desk. 

She wore her hair in a ponytail, slicked back. Its length easily the middle of her back. She was petite - even for what he was used to. She was maybe 5’5 outside of the two-inch heels she wore, that is. 

“...so I’m going to need a space to work. I hope you don’t mind?” She arched a brow as he shook his head again. 

“Uh, n-no. That’s not a problem. The office next to me is quite large. I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow, should that suffice?” He maintained his professionalism as she offered that slight smile. 

“Splendid.” She stood offering her hand once more. “I’ll be heading to collect my things - I’ll be here bright and early.” 

They shook hands.

She left his office, and he found himself sagging against his desk. 

The pain ringing like a bell in his ears. 

Promise me, Taehyung. No matter what. Promise. 

He shook his head violently as he settled back at his desk. It seemed like he stared at nothing until his phone rang. 

“This is Mr. Kim.” A receptionist pleasantly announced his Wife calling.

“Taehyung.” April spoke, that pleasant friendly tone, “...are you alright?” His brow furrowed as she asked.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You didn’t eat your protein bar this morning. That’s unlike you.” He could detect the stirring of worry. 

“Ah, I had a bit of a headache this morning.” He sighed quietly.

That worry seemed to turn into something...else. “Did you take your vitamins, Taehyung? You know how important it is for you to take your vitamins.” 

There was something almost cold, ominous in her tone. His brow furrowed deeply as he answered her, making sure the hesitation was absent from his voice. “Of course, April. I took them immediately when I woke up. I was quite fine after a shower. I think I was just alarmed at the one minute tardy. I assure you, I’m fine.”

There was a long, thick silence before she spoke again. Her tone was light and friendly once more. “I’m sure it was jarring, Taehyung. Just let me know if you feel strange, alright?” 

He forced himself to smile, so it filtered through into his voice. “Of course, April. I need to stay late tonight. We have a new colleague who’ll be using the empty office. I’d like to have it ready for her use.”

“Of course, Taeyung. You’re not the only ones busy. I will leave dinner for you. Have a good night, Taehyung.” 

“Of course, April. You do the same.” The line goes dead but he still holds the phone aloft. It’s almost a full minute before he placed the handset onto its base. There was that bothersome echo in the back of his mind again.

It was exhaustion - wasn’t it?

10:37 pm

Nails on a chalkboard. That was the sound of the heavy furniture sliding across the floor. Tae had removed his jacket and dress shirt. His white t-shirt had slightly grayed from cleaning the other office. He worked quietly adjusting the office to spec. There was a certain placement for all of the furniture in the office. They all looked the same, even when facing different directions. 

11: 32 pm

Taehyung grunted as he dropped a box onto the floor. He rotated his shoulder to work out the strange soreness. It was unusual for him to suffer such strains. “Mm, I didn’t have much to eat today.” He sighed. That conversation with April caused his brow to furrow. He glanced at his watch with a deeper sigh. He didn’t understand that sudden change in her demeanor. He didn’t understand why he felt the need to keep up appearances. There had been no reason to be dishonest with her. 

She was his wife. She was also a medical researcher. She would have understood his symptoms, right? April would have offered some kind of solution, right? 

Why am I thinking about this so hard? Taehyung pushed to stand. One more cup of coffee would give him the energy he needed to push through. That’s what he believed. The office was a strange place at night. There were a few occasions that warranted his presence in the office so late. He shouldered into the break room, pulling the fridge open in the darkness. The light seemed eerie as perfectly situated rows of water and milk lined the shelves. There were fruits and vegetables in the drawers. Small bags of freshly cooked proteins. 

He reached for one of each, plus a bottle of water. He waited those few extra minutes to brew a small pot of coffee. His hand scrunched over the tops of the bags holding the food. The other held a hot cup of caffeine against his face. 

1:48 am

Exhausted. 

Taehyung was exhausted and he couldn’t explain why this sensation caused something to spark inside of him. He sprawled on the floor, making sure not to disturb the exact precision of his work. His eyes closed as he paid attention to the thundering in his ears. The tightness in his chest as he fought for more air. 

Why did this interest him so? Why did it seem suddenly...familiar?

“I shouldn’t have had that extra coffee.” His voice was gruff as he drifted into sleep. Just a small nap, just a moment to close his eyes and rest.

The sky was bright, fiery - hot. 

“Taehyung!” She called him her hand extended as he pulled himself up from the ground. “We have to get out of here.” Those leonine eyes were hard and filled with determination. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest. 

The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth causing him to spit. The sound of gunfire echoed above their heads. They returned to fire on opposite sides hiding behind the shattered pieces of building near them. 

“We have to make a run for it.” He told her. She frowned but hardened her gaze with a nod. They were sitting ducks this way. Taehyung reached out and grabbed her hand - there was a break in the fire. Then they ran - hard. 

“We have to find a way to meet up with the resistance, Tae!” The female’s voice was loud over the sound of violence around them.

“We have to live through this first!” He growled pulling her in front of him as he spun around a corner. “Listen to me, we …” His hands framed a set of tiny shoulders, holding them firm. “...we need to split up.” 

And as he anticipated, “No. NO! Fuck no, Tae! Tae that’s madness! We can’t!” 

“LISTEN TO ME.” He shook her harder feeling his brow crease. He didn’t like it. He abhorred the idea of being away from her. But this new world order gave them no option. They had to find their way to the Rebels that would help them. “Please, I beg you. Please, we have to split here. I’ll draw their fire. You have to run. I promise you, I’ll find you.” 

He hated it. He hated seeing those rare eyes filled with tears. He hated seeing that strength seep from her. “Please.” He framed her face as their foreheads touched. She grabbed his wrists squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Don’t you die, Taehyung.” The female took a shuddering breath as her tears fell over his fingers. “Do you hear me? Don’t you fucking die. I will find you.” She dug half-moon indentations into his arm as their lips smashed together for the last time. He could feel his tears burning hot craters against his cheeks. 

“Go ____..” He croaked as she sobbed quietly. She finally pulled away running toward a thicket of bushes. Taehyung felt himself hyperventilating as he held his weapon tight. He wanted to run after her. He wanted to scream for her to stay where she was. He swallowed his cowardice as he moved beyond the cover to open fire on the enemy.

I won’t die. 

He pushed toward the open field, drawing their attention to him. Searing pain radiated on his left side, causing him to take a knee. The world was silent as the sky seemed to come to meet him - or he met it?

The weightlessness of the world was apparent as the blue of the sky filled his eyes. The fiery blast sent him, others, and debris hurtling to the sky. He heard the crack of his body as he landed on his spine. 

The tears filled his eyes as the world crumbled around him. He made a promise. “I’m sorry…” Taehyung coughed blood in spurts as his world began to fade to black. 

Taehyung. He could hear her voice even as his body pulled him into the darkness.

Taehyung, wake up! It was her. He was sure of it. 

I want to go back to her. I want to go back to her!

Taehyung! 

He sat up grabbing the arm that shook him from his slumber. His eyes wide as their close proximity gave them both pause. “T-Tempest?” There was worry etched across her face. He could feel her pulse racing under his hand. 

They both glanced at their connected skin - and Taehyung saw the time.

7:52 am

[thealogie]

thanks to the overwhelming silence and the fact that i can’t remember my old ao3 password and want to preserve my new ao3 for bookmarking rather than publishing anything I’m putting under the cut here some of the tentatively titled and probably-never-to-be-finished “Jeeves and the Unemployment Rate” which I wrote on the ios scrivener app a while ago (highly recommend if you want to write yourself fanfic on your commute and read it later) and then forgot.

It all started on a crisp sort of autumn morning when I returned to 3A Berkeley Mansions from a spot of lunch at my Aunt Dahlia’s with a bit of good news, a spring in my step, and sunshine on the old bean. It was the brightish sort of day, made all the brighter by the visit to a most Beloved Relation, who is the kind-hearted fly in the ointment of my theory that aunts are put on this earth for the sole purpose of crushing young nephews into submission, depression, and oppression under heels of steel. On this particular day, the old girl—in addition to being a generally good sort as usual— had also helped me solve a problem that had been vexing me for nearly a month.

I burst through the door with good cheer and a hankering for a whiskey fizz.

“Jeeves,” I bleeted. “Rally round.”

And rally around he did. Not that Jeeves does anything the seeing man would describe as ���rallying.” But he floated gracefully out of the kitchen a moment before I called out for him, a whiskey fizz in hand.

“Ah, you are a marvel, as always, Jeeves. You’re sure you’re not a telepath? Positive of it, I mean? Very well, very well, I believe you,” I said, pouring the w. f. down the throat. “Right-o, now let us rally as men do. I bring splendid news from ol’ Dahlia.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Dashed splendid, I mean. The sort to grip you somewhere in the middle and lift you just a footish above the troubles of life so that you glide above them in the air without once dipping your toes into their murky depths—the troubles, I mean. Of life, that is,” I explained.

“Indeed, sir?”

I narrowed my eyes a bit. There was something a bit soupy about his tone that told me he lacked the enthusiasm Betram Wilberforce was striving for in this situation. Like I said, rallying of any sort is out of the question when it comes to Jeeves, but a chap hopes that when he stirs up the pot with so much vim, he might be rewarded with a sincerely uttered “Very good, sir,” or, perhaps more ambitiously, “Most pleasing to hear it, sir. Perhaps you could recount the tale after I pour you another w. f.?”

I forged on bravely.

“Oh rather. I mean to say, you’re going to be biffed as well, old thing. Oh yes. The news touches you, is the thing. And I dare say it’s pleasant news of the sort that will have even demi-gods like yourself prancing about the place with a hop and a whistle.”

“Indeed, sir?”

Many times have I spoken to my man about his little habit of wielding “indeeds” against me in such sharpish tones.

“What do you...I mean. Yes, dashed ‘indeed,’ Jeeves,” I replied with some steel in my voice, “blasted, indeed! You know what, Jeeves, I’m surprised at you. You might show a bit more sympathy for the y.m. It’s not a happy household when a man comes through the door all hot and is immediately handed the ice.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Jeeves!”

“My apologies, sir. I only meant to convey that it is just as you say. I should be glad to hear what Mrs. Travers relayed to you over luncheon.”

I crossed my arms and narrowed the Wooster baby blues even further until it was difficult to see a dashed thing.

“Alright Jeeves. Let’s have it.”

“Sir?”

“Out with it.”

“Sir?”

“Sir! I mean...to chopped liver with ‘sir,’ Jeeves. Something is rotten in the chez of Wooster. I see the displeased glint in your eyes. I should like to hear what’s hardened your heart against the young master’s general joie at the current state of vivre.”

“Well, sir. Is the pleasant information you wish to convey in any way related to the retirement Mrs. Travers’s head butler and her selection of a replacement?”

“By Jove,” I cried. “You do know all, what?! Jeeves, I know you don’t like this theory of mine, but it’s time we started to take the telepathy thingamummy seriously. Is it your deductive reasoning again? I mean, it’s too uncanny. Give me your Holmesian monologue on how you came to this one.”

“No deductions on this occasion, sir. Although I do not wish to jeopardize a friend, I must admit Seppings himself paid me a visit not an hour ago and divulged the news,” Jeeves said.

“Jeeves! Don’t tell me Seppings let the proverbial cat out of the proverbial bag?!”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

“Oh rotten luck that!” I sighed, a bit put out that Seppings—the very retiring butler who had minutes ago been the source of my great gratitude—had ruined my surprise.

“As you say, sir.”

“And I suppose you know the person she intends to name as his replacement is, in fact, you?”

“I do, sir,” he said coldly.

“Er,” I replied.

“Will that be all, sir?”

“I can see you’re not too pleased with the young master, Jeeves, but I only thought—dash it, I mean, I thought it would please you. The superior title, an entire staff at your command, a house with guests of the more refined sort.”

Jeeves was unmoved by this. I forged on, feeling a bit like that Napoleon chappie must have felt trying to make good speed when it got nippy in Russia.

“Oh, think, you’d never cook again Jeeves! Every menu will be orchestrated by you and prepared by Anatole. Oh, and you don’t need to valet at all, Aunt Dahlia says. I mean, Uncle Tom would be glad to have you valet for him if you don’t trust anyone else with his clothes but they have a large-ish staff. If you’d like, you’d just be doing books and ordering people about all day and generally mastering the household.”

I had wilted a bit at his initial cold reception but I was at full speed again with my ramble, imagining Jeeves sitting behind his own desk, so many people for him to guide and mold.

“It is an incredibly generous offer, sir,” Jeeves said. “Will that be all?”

I wilted again.

“It’s only an offer, Jeeves. You can toss it out to the cold night air if it displeases you. I mean to say, what?! No one is making you take it—not that there are good odds against any mortal setting about making you do anything you don’t want to do and coming out on top,” I tried to mollify him.

“Very kind, sir,” Jeeves said stiffly. “Will that be all?”

I saw that Jeeves was not in a good way. And suddenly my own disappointment was the furthest thing from my mind. I softened immediately.

“Old thing, I wish you would tell me what’s bothering you,” I said ever so gently, or so I hoped.

“While it is commendable, Mr. Wooster, that you would secure another position for me rather than dismissing me, I am sorry to learn I have overstayed my welcome,” he explained, looking above the Wooster onion and straight at the wall opposite.

I scratched the Wooster temple, feeling flummoxed and flat out on my rear.

“Jeeves, old fruit, I’m feeling a bit flummoxed and flat out,” I confessed, leaving off the bit about my rear to preserve some dignity.

“Mr. Seppings came to congratulate me on the happy news, which he thought I was already privy to. After seeing that the news surprised and confused me, he confessed that he inadvertently overheard pieces of your discussions with Mrs. Travers,” Jeeves explained.

Oh. Oh, dear. That’s something to get hot under the collar about. If Seppings had indeed heard my conversation with Dahlia...

“Oh bugger all,” I groaned.

“He had not meant to eavesdrop, sir, but came to understand that you were asking Mrs. Travers’ advice on how to end my employment while avoiding the unpleasantness that generally accompanies an outright dismissal. If I may say, sir, the elected course is prudent. The offer of employment from Mrs. Travers at increased salary and title would have spared embarrassment on all sides,” Jeeves said. Except it wasn’t Jeeves at all, dash it. He had the faraway look of an automaton who has no thoughts at all, nevertheless the dozen or so ripe ones that seem always to be floating around in Jeeves’s head. “Sir, will that be all?”

Oh, dash it. Let me stop there for a mo’.

At this point, you must be feeling as betrayed as Jeeves. “Wooster, you useless goose!” you’re undoubtedly crying. “You’ve somehow managed to ensnare a divine nymph to crease your trousers and mix your cocktails? You have in your household a first-rate mind who should be writing treatises on literature and holding saloons in Paris, yet you dare to hand him the mitten? Refund me the price of the rag I’ve purchased or prepare to duel.”

I beg you gentle reader, give this Wooster a chance to redeem himself. An oaf I am, but an oaf pure of heart. My sin, you see, is not being up to this literary wheeze, not caprice.

In the normal course of events, you know, stories begin when matters are about to get wheeling on, then they trot on until everybody’s generally got their ankles up in the air and such, and then they end when everything’s been tidied up and all persons’ ankles are firmly back on the ground. You’re familiar with said basic structure, no doubt? Well, I’m no good at it. This Wooster frequently starts his wheezes when things have already gone ankles up. Jeeves tells me the more scholarly writer sorts try to hide this flaw by pretending to do this same thing deliberately and calling it “starting in medias res.”

Allow me to fill you in on three basic facts that might persuade you to regard Bertram Wilberforce as the well-intentioned buffoon he is rather than the malicious villain he is painted out to be in the above passage:

A. I’m in love with Jeeves. I mean properly daffy him and all that. I mean to say, I hear music when he walks into the room. When he leaves, clouds of doom descend upon me. His every touch however brief and accidental is etched indelibly in my memory. It’s properly scorching stuff, you see. But he hasn’t a clue.

B. I can’t tell a fellow I’m daffy for him so long as I’m his employer. I mean, he takes his wages fishing me out of the soup, drying me off, and setting me on my way again. I mean, you don’t need me to spell out the how and why. It’s simply not preux at all.

C. Premise A and premise B, when combined, put me in quite a bind. I shared said bind with an old chum of mine just a few weeks prior to the cheery-cum-calamitous afternoon I’ve recounted to you above.

“So, you’d like to get a leg over Jeeves, eh?” Ginger said crassly after I’d unburdened my very soul to him.

I’ve known Ginger for ages. I mean, I used to know Ginger rather biblically. Now we’re just chums. And unlike some chaps who used to know each other, we’re rather un-jealous and supportive chums. Though, Ginger’s support was a bit more vulgar than a laddie hopes for when said laddie is in the throws of a love that is all divinity and light.

“Ginger! You crude fishmonger,” I cried, scandalized. “This is serious, for once. What am I to do? Am I to take this to my grave? Saddens a chap to think of going on like this forever.”

“Want to roger him good, eh ol’ boy?” Ginger continued, without hearing me at all.

“No, Ginger. It’s not like that. I mean it is. But it’s more. I also want us to sit by the fire, reading poetry. I want to make him smile every day I am alive. I want his hands enveloped in mine,” I declared. “Were I a glove, and all that!”

“I think the Romeo chappie wanted to be a glove to touch that bird’s cheek, Bertie.”

“Well, Jeeves is too sensible to sit around resting his cheek in his hands when he’s wearing work gloves. But I mean it! I would shape shift into one of his imminently reasonable and dull gloves if I could, so I could be wrapped all around his elegant hands,” I sighed dreamily, giving Madeleine Bassett a run for her money.

“Looks like he’s got you wrapped around his fingers, all right,” Ginger laughed, clapping me on the back in a chummy sort of fashion.

“Oh but Ginger, don’t tease. Not today. If you had the smartest and handsomest man in England residing in your home, you too would find him a worthy general and think twice before acting without orders,” I sighed, chin in hand.

“Please Bertie,” Ginger said, rolling his eyes. “I hope you aren’t about to start again with your campaign to make Jeeves Prime Minister, Bertie.”

At this comment, the Wooster corpus, previously slumped over the table, sat at attention with a bolt of inspiration. “Euree—something. Jeeves would know. Something a Greek chappie once said when his grey matter finally got going. I mean to say, that’s it, Ginger! Oh, you’ve got it.”

Ginger blinked at me in confusion. “You’re going to make Jeeves the Prime Minister? I suppose, that would do the country a bit of good. And, you have a point. If you tell the Prime Minister you want to bugger him, there’s no danger of him going along with it because he feels obliged.”

“Not quite, laddie. If Jeeves had another job, a better job, then I would be just another man, not his employer,” I said.

“With you so far,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, young masters who wish to stay a step above the devil don’t go foisting declarations on unsuspecting valets and then expect them to go on dressing and feeding and living with said y.m. as though nothing is amiss,” I explained patiently. “But if he doesn’t work for me, I could tell him I love him. We’d just be two men, standing before each other. And if he doesn’t feel the same, he’d just biff off to his new household, that’s that.”

“I get all that. Bertie, you really are a Christmas pudding of a man,” Ginger said. “What I’m saying is...Well, that’s no solution at all. I mean. Right now, at least you get to be close to him day in and out, don’t you? If you send him away…you do realize he’ll be, in fact, away, don’t you?” he said sagely, buttering a scone with a great air dignity. “Or maybe you don’t. There’s no end to things you don’t realize, darling.”

I puffed up the chest. My love had made me feel a touch noble, like those self-sacrificing beazels in the old Greek plays. “I’d rather watch him walk out the door after I’ve said my piece than have him say ‘Very good, sir’ and shimmer into the kitchen to put dinner together because it’s what’s expected of him,” I said with a touch haught. “Now Ginger, if you’re a friend, you’ll help me draw up a list of suitable households where Jeeves will be happy and well-paid. You know he’s not exactly the ‘happy to put down anchor anywhere’ sort of fellow.’”

“That’s mild, Bertie. The man’s as particular as all hell,” Ginger exclaimed.

I sighed dreamily, planting the Wooster chin atop the Wooster palm. “Isn’t he just? It’s an infuriating quality of his.

“Oh dear lord, you’re done for.”