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twistedtummies2 · 3 years

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Green-Eyed Devil

A silly piece of Sherliam fluffiness; nothing kinky, just sweet foolery. Summary: William James Moriarty always thought that Sherlock Holmes & Dr. Watson made a good pair...but he finds himself getting very jealous over just HOW good a pair they might be.

In Other Words: Liam goes into “jealous boyfriend mode.” ‘Nuff said. :P

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Another busy day in London. People bustled to and fro in the cool, semi-drizzly afternoon’s yellow-gray light. Paupers held out their hats in hopes of alms, while the gentry chattered, unconcerned by the rain pattering onto their umbrellas. Hoofbeats clip-clapped upon the cobblestone streets as carriages and hansom cabs went back and forth, carrying their passengers quickly but carefully through the mild downpour.

One particular carriage turned a corner onto Baker Street: a black carriage, with strange red-tinted lamps on its sides, which matched the dark, blood-colored lining of its inner cushioning, barely visible through the windows of the coach. The same deep red was painted on the wide wagon wheels. It was a nobleman’s coach, something that turned many eyes, as it was rare for a nobleman to hurry along Baker Street. While the road was by no means a slum, it was not one of the grander parts of the city either: a decent middle-class zone. Those who knew the street best smirked, already having a guess as to where the carriage would stop. They were correct...but not for the reasons they expected. In the driver’s seat of the coach was a young man, dressed in a dark blue suit, with a matching tie and hat, and wire-rimmed spectacles upon his fine nose. His blonde hair fluttered at the sides of his head, half-hiding the nasty scar upon his cheek; the only thing that marred his otherwise handsome, youthful face. A pair of strange red eyes which seemed to dimly glow in the shadows of his hat brim stared resolutely onward...until the carriage neared its destination. “Whoa there!” the man in blue called to the twin horses that pulled the carriage, and tugged on the reins, slowing the stallions to a stop. They whinnied softly and shook their heads as the driver tied the reins off, then hopped down from his seat and opened the door to the coach. “Brother William,” he said to the one inside, “We’ve arrived.” There was a pause...then, a lone figure stepped out of the carriage. He was tall and thin, his stance as elegant as his choice of clothes as he adjusted the gray top hat on his head and tucked a silver-topped cane under one arm. He wore a rich brown suit, and white kid gloves; over this was a thick black overcoat. His countenance was almost identical to that of the other man, with the same blonde hair and unusual red eyes...although his eyes glowed much more brightly, and the whole face seemed narrower, sharper, more mature and almost predator-like in shape, while still having a pleasing, downright attractive demeanor. His expression was serene and gentle, magnetic in the way the features were fixed; a cool, effortlessly composed face that seemed unperturbed by the rain, or anything else, for that matter. The lips on the endlessly calm face stretched ever so slightly into a satisfied smile as he saw the address plaque on the door only a few feet away: 221B. “Brother?” The man in brown turned to the man in blue. “Yes, Louis?” he responded, his voice the same practiced, even calm that could be seen on his face; pleasant, yet unbreakable. Louis James Moriarty squirmed a bit; he looked nervous. “Is this really wise?” he asked, and looked to the door as well. “Asking HIM to join you for dinner, I mean.” “Why not? The Cafe de L’Europe serves fabulous suppers.”

“It’s not the food that worries me,” Louis said, somewhat blandly, and gestured with a toss of his head towards the building. “HE, after all, is simply meant to be a part of your game. And if he figures out the truth through frequent contact…” Louis trailed off. William smiled a little wider. “Ah. Are you afraid the White Pawn might take the Black King, Louis?” the man in brown asked, almost teasingly. “That’s part of it, yes,” Louis answered, in a slow, careful way. William let out a puff of amusement through his nose...then reached out with his free hand, placing it on his brother’s shoulder. Louis turned quickly to face him. “Holmes is a powerful piece in our grand puzzle,” William said softly, making sure not to be heard by any passers-by. “One must know the enemy in order to reach the endgame properly. The more I study him, the more I can learn.” He paused, looking towards the door once more. His eyes narrowed as he seemed to peer through the door. “Besides,” he murmured, and his voice quivered ever so faintly with emotion. “I find him interesting. He seems a clever man...and a lucky one.” Louis narrowed his own eyes and said nothing. He paused before speaking again. “William,” he said, and the genius in brown raised an eyebrow at the use of his name as he gave his younger sibling a sidelong glance. “I don’t like it. I really don’t.” “Holmes’ interest in me, or mine in him?” William checked, voice even and seemingly uncaring. “Both,” Louis confessed. “The more time you spend with him, the more dangerous the game becomes.” “The game was always dangerous, Louis,” William said with a light chuckle, and his red eyes twinkled deviously. “Now the game is just more FUN.” “That’s my point,” Louis responded. “You’re literally flirting with trouble; you could be dining with disaster. I know you, brother. Don’t think I didn’t realize what was going on during the train trip to Durham, or the way you smiled when you spoke of his visit to the university.” William’s smile flickered, showing weakness for the first time, though he kept his eyes on the door. “Louis,” he said at length, “I know you’re looking out for what’s best for me. And I appreciate it. I do.” He turned back and smiled to his younger brother. “I will ALWAYS appreciate you, little brother,” he promised, his voice filled with firm meaning. “That is never going to change, no matter what happens in the future - in our plans, between myself and Holmes - you will always be my light. Having said that, I am not the sort of person to allow my emotions to ruin my strategies.” Louis seemed to relax...and a small smile of his own fell onto his face. His cheeks seemed to turn a bit pink. “If you say so,” he said, his own voice a bit shaky, before his eyes hardened again. “But after Enders in January, Hope in February, and the business with Mr. Bonde in March…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath before stiffening his back. “...If he continues to incommode us, I will remove him myself.” William’s smile was affectionate. He nodded. “I would ask no one else to do it, brother,” he said, sounding pleased to hear it...then added, very quietly, seemingly more to himself than to Louis, “I’m not sure I would have the stomach for it now…” There was an awkward pause, which was interrupted by Louis giving a nigh-imperceptible shiver. William perceived it, however. “How thoughtless of me, keeping you standing in the rain!” he smiled anew, and patted his brother on the shoulder. “Why don’t you take the carriage somewhere dry and get yourself a meal? I can take a hansom up to meet you.” Louis nodded and told William where he was going, then drove the carriage off. William watched his brother go, then marched up to the door of the flat house at long last. He could feel the rain speckling his own clothes, and had no desire to be soaked. He took the brass knocker and, without another moment’s hesitation, he knocked upon the door. Almost immediately, he heard footsteps coming to the door...then, a woman - a little older than himself, but not by more than a few years - answered. Her eyes were the color of emeralds, her hair an auburn shade, tied into a bun. She was dressed in a very proper-looking pink tea dress, a cream-colored apron draped over her front. The woman tilted her head slightly as she blinked up at William. “Hello?” she greeted, curiously. “May I help you?” William doffed his hat; the drizzled rain felt cool and soothing on his golden scalp. “Good day,” he greeted, in his most dulcet voice. “My name is William James Moriarty. I am a Professor of Mathematics at Durham University. I take it you are the famous Miss Hudson?” The woman’s cheeks turned almost as pink as her clothes, and she smiled. “Only thanks to Dr. Watson’s stories,” she chuckled, then frowned and mumbled to herself: “I really need to remind him it’s MISS Hudson, not Missus...yet…” She shook herself out of that thought and stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in!” she said cheerily. “No need to stand out in the rain!” “Thank you,” Professor Moriarty said with a short, respectful bow of his head, and stepped into the parlor of the flat house. He offered his cane, his hat, and his black overcoat to the landlady-slash-housekeeper, who graciously smiled as she put the items up on a rack… ...Then scowled as Moriarty began to walk across the room towards the stairs. “OI!” she suddenly snapped. William stopped short, eyes wide, a little alarmed...although the carefully constructed evenness of his voice never once gave that away. “What’s the matter, ma’am?” he asked, politely. Miss Hudson took a breath to calm herself. “Nothing, sir, nothing,” she mumbled. “Just...you forgot to wipe your feet on the mat.” William blinked, and looked down at his shoes. He admitted he felt a flutter of embarrassment as he saw he had left rain-soaked footprints on the floor leading up to the staircase. “Oh,” he whispered to himself, and smiled apologetically, his voice as graceful as his movements as he stepped back, retracing his steps carefully, and did so. “My apologies. It quite slipped my mind.” “Never mind,” huffed Miss Hudson. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, Professor, just...at least you LISTEN, unlike that stubborn, skull-wearing…!” She took another breath and sighed. William’s smile became more akin to a smirk. “I take it Mr. Holmes is as trying as Dr. Watson’s publications would lead one to believe?” he puzzled. “No,” Miss Hudson droned. “He’s even WORSE. I’ve never had children, sir, but after Sherlock Holmes, I think I know what it’s like to raise one, and I don’t think it’s fun.” Moriarty chuckled. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he soothed, and cocked his own head. “Is Mr. Holmes in, by the way? May I see him?” “He is, and I suppose that will depend upon Mr. Holmes,” Miss Hudson answered, and stepped in front of the young Professor, leading him back to the stairs. “Not that I imagine he’d have any objections. He speaks of you often, you know.” William paused at the foot of the steps. “Does he now?” he questioned, seemingly more to himself than Miss Hudson, but she answered anyway. “Yes, almost as often as he rambles on about how important tobacco ash is in an investigation,” she mumbled, with a wry chuckle. “He gets so wrapped up in the little things!” “Well, the little things are often the most important,” Moriarty defended as the pair made their way up the stairs to the upper floor of the building. “That’s what he says,” Miss Hudson shrugged. “I’ve never understood it myself, nor how many different types of ashes he claims there are! Something like one hundred different varieties-” “One hundred forty, actually.” Miss Hudson froze on the steps and looked to the Professor, whose uncanny smile never once faltered. He hadn’t sounded like he was bragging or patronizing, he just...said it. “Yes,” she murmured, and nodded slowly. “That’s exactly right, I remember now...have you read that monograph he published?” Moriarty gave one of “his smiles”: the masks of pleasant sweetness where his eyes closed and his lips curved perhaps a little TOO wide to be genuine looks of happiness. “We’ll say yes,” he answered, in a chirping sort of manner. Miss Hudson raised an eyebrow at the cryptic reaction, then shrugged and led Moriarty up the steps. The Professor followed at a polite pace and distance as she approached the door at the top of the stairs, leading into the rooms of her most popular tenant. She knocked on the door, sharply rapping it with her knuckles. “Sherlock!” she called. “Go away!” a voice from the other side of the door called back. William couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath as Miss Hudson flushed with indignation. “What’s that kind of talk for?” she shouted. “You have a client!” “Tell them to go away, too; I’m busy,” was the snorted response. Then came a new voice: milder, more genteel. “Ah, Miss Hudson...ask them if they wouldn’t mind waiting? We won’t be too long, I should think…” “No more than an hour,” added the first voice, and the Professor was almost certain he heard the other voice hiss angrily: “Not helping, Sherlock!” “I don’t mind waiting,” Moriarty said, placidly. And he didn’t; there was no rush to his visitation. Miss Hudson, however, was incensed, and would hear none of it. “Like HELL you will!” she snarled, causing William to quirk his brow at her language before she glared at the door like it was the source of all the trouble in her life. “Sherlock, you cannot keep a gentleman like Mr. Moriarty waiting! He is-” “Mister WHO?!” came the first voice. “Moriarty! Professor Moriarty from Durham!” Miss Hudson answered. Scarcely had she gotten out the last word, however, than the door burst open, and Miss Hudson jumped aside with a yelp as an excited figure all but jumped through the doorway. William’s smile softened and took on a shade of amusement at the sight of Sherlock Holmes, who looked breathless and almost manic, his smile stretched wide across the handsome but angular proportions of his face. His dark blue eyes (which Moriarty noticed were slightly baggier than usual) gleamed as his dark hair - unkempt as ever - sprung out in every direction, from the curlicue cowlick to his untidy ponytail. He was dressed in his usual garb: not the deerstalker and inverness cape the public knew from the illustrations in the Strand, but a dark blue coat and trousers, along with brown leather shoes that had seen better days, and a white shirt with its top button undone. Moriarty couldn’t help but give a passing glance at the glimpse of a strong chest and collarbone that were visible through that partition… The gangly detective grinned widely, as if his whole day had just become a little sunnier, and extended a hand to William - the one that wore his silver skull ring. “LIAM!” he boomed with a jovial laugh. “You couldn’t have come at a better time! I was just about to get started on a chemical experiment, come in, come in!” Before either the Professor or Miss Hudson could stop him, the detective all but dragged the mathematician through the door. Miss Hudson blinked at the closed door after it slammed shut...then sighed and shook her head, before sniffing primly and heading back downstairs. “Mad as a hatter; he always will be,” she muttered. Meanwhile, the Professor brushed himself off briefly as he stood in the entrance area of Sherlock’s flat. Holmes smirked, tucking one hand into his pants pocket, the other scratching his chin as he eyed William critically. “So, Liam...how was your ride over here? You took your own coach, didn’t you?” “Bumpier than I would like, but not too bad,” shrugged William, not at all bothered by how easily Holmes guessed. “Well, with the weather, you might have found the trains easier. Did our case on the Paddington line make you that squeamish?” teased Sherlock. William gave another of “his” smiles. “Perhaps a little,” he lied in a sing-song way. “Ah...how do you know he came in his own coach?” Blue and red eyes turned to look at the third person in the room: another young man, in his twenties - roughly the same age as both the sleuth and the schemer - dressed in an olive-colored jacket and trousers, along with a brown vest, a neat-looking off-white shirt, and a burnt-yellow-colored ascot. His skin was very lightly tanned, his eyes were the same shade as his vest, and his hair was a sort of pale grayish-blonde color. The eyes were very wide and bright, and peered between the two geniuses with curious interest as he stepped closer. “Elementary, My Dear Watson,” Sherlock chimed, and then looked back to Moriarty. “I don’t think you properly got introduced, did you?” William shook his head, and then looked to Watson with a smile, extending a hand. “A pleasure to see you again, Doctor,” the Professor greeted in a warm but casual voice. “William James Moriarty, at your service.” “It’s nice to meet you, officially,” Watson smiled back with a nod, and shook the hand of Professor Moriarty. “John H. Watson. Thank you, by the way, for helping Sherlock with the Hawthorne case.” “Oh, please,” Moriarty chuckled, lifting his other hand in a dismissive gesture. “Say nothing of it. I’m simply glad I could help an innocent person and see a criminal brought to justice. It was exciting, playing detective, really. I’m surprised you didn’t publish that one.” “Sherlock talked me out of it,” admitted Watson, and gave an accusing look at the detective. Holmes shrugged. “It was a simple case. Too simple, too quick,” he said, boredly. “You two were the only things that made it interesting. I figured your adoring readers would like something more interesting.” “Sure they would,” Watson muttered, then looked back to Moriarty, huge eyes burning with interest. “Now...about your ride here...do you know how he guessed it?” “He didn’t guess it,” insisted Moriarty. “He DEDUCED it, Doctor. And I think I know.” “Oh?” Holmes spoke up, and smiled challengingly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Prove it. Go on, Liam, what were the clues?” “Three clues, really: it was all a question of sight, recollection, and smell.” “Huh?” Watson spoke up, brow furrowing in curiosity. “What do you mean?” “First, recollection,” Moriarty explained, and began counting off the points on his fingers. “Mr. Holmes knows I live in Durham. To say that’s a bit of a walk from here is an understatement, and I do not own a bicycle. So there was no other way to get here beyond covered transportation, especially in this weather: the rain may be light sprinkling, but with that much ground to cover, I would have been soaked to the bone. This leads into sight: if I had even come in a dogcart, for instance, the mud and rainwater would have been splashed onto me.” “But you could have come in a cab!” “That’s where the smell comes in, John,” Holmes interjected, pulling up the sleeve on one of his arms and scratching at a spot there before rolling the sleeve back down as he elaborated. “No driver would take someone from Durham all the way to Baker Street; too much of a distance, and the Moriarty household is much too remote to simply hail a passing cab. Liam either would have had to catch a cab or a horsebus from the train station, or take his own carriage directly from his house. And as there is no scent of smoke from the steam engines or any crowds on him, as you would expect from the former scenario, that leaves only the option of him making the full journey in his carriage.” Watson blinked...then let out a slightly nervous chuckle. “Well...it...sounds kind of obvious when you put it that way,” he admitted, sheepishly. “That’s because it is obvious,” Holmes boasted. “Indeed,” slithered William. “Just as it is obvious Mr. Watson has been diluting your cocaine solution from seven to five percent.” Holmes gaped and Watson gasped. “H-How...how did you guess that?!” sputtered Sherlock, who looked mortified. William’s smile was simple and innocent. “Elementary, My Dear Holmes,” he answered, in a gently teasing tone...and pointedly said NOTHING else. Holmes gulped thinly, and gave a tight sort of smile. “Liam, you rascal,” he hissed under his breath, eyes dancing. “You’re GOOD at this game.” “Thank you,” Moriarty purred, with a slight bow, then looked towards the chemistry set. It was prepared on a table near the window. “So, what was the experiment you mentioned, if you don’t mind my asking?” “Oh!” Sherlock Holmes exclaimed, snapping his fingers, and gestured for both Dr. Watson and Professor Moriarty to join him as he sat down at his chemistry set. Watson stood to his left, while William paused at his right, both watching the detective check on the items he had gathered, to make sure everything was in place. “Part of a case?” William guessed. “Yep,” Holmes popped the word out with his lips before continuing: “A man in Cheshire - John Vincent Harden by name - came to us with the problem yesterday.” Watson nodded, and pulled from his coat pocket a piece of paper. On it was a list of items, untidily scrawled. “Mr. Harden’s friend is currently in the dock under suspicion of murdering the family butler,” the doctor explained. “This piece of paper - which includes the murder of the butler as part of a number of surly deeds to be done - is the only clue that can prove he might be innocent.” “I see,” William murmured, looking at the paper briefly...then nearly jumped as Sherlock snatched it away. The sleuth glanced over it before scoffing through his nostrils. “Offhand, I can deduce very little,” he muttered, placing the paper on the table and squinting down at it. “Only that the paper comes from Mongolia and has no watermark, that the one who wrote this is a drinker, and that they are probably not very rich.” Liam grinned, looking proud as a plum, and was about to comment...but Watson beat him to it. “The odor of cheap brandy, plus the weight and texture of the paper, right?” he smiled hopefully. Holmes grinned. “Very good, John!” he chuckled, and nudged the doctor’s shoulder with a light punch, making Watson squeak like a mouse before gripping his shoulder. Watson gave a blushing, shy smile as he rubbed his shoulder and Holmes all but sang out: “You’re getting better at this every day!” Watson shuffled on his feet. “It was...really nothing; you can smell the brandy part, easily,” he mumbled. This was the moment where Professor Moriarty’s usually marble-carved smile flickered faintly, and his red eyes seemed to shine a bit brighter...and not in a pleasant manner. He slowly looked Watson over, taking in the way the surgeon and former soldier stood and smiled at Sherlock. He could sense the doctor’s heightened pulse even from here...the way the pupils dilated as he watched Holmes work… It could just be happiness at being praised - the rather wide, almost childlike small on John’s face could make that clear - but, of course, it could also mean something far, FAR more meaningful. William glared...but then shook his head, clearing it. No. Not a chance. There was no reason to get worked up. Not yet, anyway. “Liam,” Holmes spoke up, catching Moriarty’s attention as he handed him the paper again. “Is there anything you can see that I haven’t noted yet?” “Black dust,” William said, without taking the parchment piece up. “The ink half-hides it; the man either works as a lamplighter, or frequently goes somewhere where gaslights that require coal are plentifully found.” Holmes nodded, humming softly in thought as he pulled his magnifying glass from his coat pocket and inspected the letter closely. As he did, Watson inched closer...and Moriarty felt his own chest tighten almost imperceptibly as he saw the doctor lean against Holmes, his head in the crook of the detective’s shoulder and neck. It was a casual sort of movement; something intimate, but not necessarily sensual. The same went for the affectionate smiles the two shared before looking back at the paper. All the same, William suddenly sensed the way his own fists tightened at his sides. He felt strangely cold, and he didn’t like it. “Well, until I put it through the chemical test, I can’t say much else,” Sherlock sighed at last. “So far, none of this helps Mr. Harden’s friend: he works at a theater with gaslights, and is, in fact, a frequent patron of a local pub.” So saying, Holmes stood up and held out a hand to Watson, flexing his fingers in a beckoning motion. “Light, please,” he ordered. Watson rolled his eyes but obligingly pulled and struck a match from his waistcoat pocket. Holmes plucked up the match, and then, grinning widely, lifted the paper, preparing to set it ablaze… “STOP!” Holmes jumped at Watson’s shout. “What now?” “You can’t just burn the whole thing!” John protested. “I can, and I will,” huffed Holmes. “He DOES need to reduce the paper to ash in order to conduct the experiment,” Moriarty put in. “Thank you, Liam!” Sherlock nodded. William smiled, a light glimmer of victory in his expression...but the victory was squashed when Watson spoke up again. “Well, burn a small portion of it then,” John suggested. “After all, this is your only sample: if something goes wrong, and you burn the whole thing, you won’t be able to conduct the experiment again, properly, will you? Plus, you’ll be ridding the courtroom of evidence!” Holmes opened his mouth to snap back something...then closed it...and blinked. “...Oh,” he murmured. “I...somehow did not consider that.” He smiled with friendly admiration. “John, what would I do without you?” he chuckled. “Well, you need SOMEONE more normal to tone down that insanity of yours,” John smirked back. Holmes laughed. William’s smile remained fixed...but his eyes narrowed. “You two are even closer than I realized,” he observed, quietly. Sherlock had just asked John to fetch him some scissors. As the doctor returned with the cutting blades, Holmes nodded. “Well, yeah. We’re pretty much inseparable.” “Yes, like two peas in a pod,” Watson agreed, as Sherlock cut a small portion of the paper off the rest. He then tilted his head and added: “I suppose more like two cherries in a bunch, actually. I’ve never liked peas.” “Neither have I!” Holmes exclaimed. “What a remarkable coincidence!” Watson grinned brightly. William felt his molars grind against one another very slightly. He breathed through his nose to relax; externally, he looked thoroughly composed, his smile still set...but inside, he could feel something bubbling up inside him, like magma in a volcano. He wanted Holmes to smile at him that way. He suddenly wanted to be the one there with him constantly. It wasn’t fair that someone else got to be around his nemesis so often. “I always knew you two made a good pair,” he thought to say, as Holmes burned the cut piece and then carefully brushed the ashes into a small bowl. “John has helped me on nearly all my cases since Jefferson Hope,” Sherlock smiled. “Honestly, it’s hard to imagine a time before he came around.” “Aww,” Watson mumbled, blushing once again. “Thank you, Sherlock.” “Oh, don’t think anything of it,” sniffed Holmes, as he poured the ashes into a beaker filled with a curious blue liquid. “After all the times you’ve bungled things, I have to stroke your ego a LITTLE bit.” “Oi! I do not bungle things!” Watson cried out. “Oh, no?” smirked Holmes sitting back and crossing his legs and arms with a supercilious smile. “And what about that case with Miss Stoner? You were so proud of yourself when you found footprints outside her bedroom window...only for us to find out they were OUR footprints the whole time!” “That...I...a-anyone could have made that mistake!” Watson sputtered, withdrawing childishly as he rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. “Not me!” chirruped Sherlock Holmes. Watson glared. “Oh, no?” he retorted, mimicking Holmes’ voice and posture as he smirked deviously. “Then how about that time you let those counterfeiters go because you accidentally set the house on fire?” “IF LESTRADE HAD BEEN THERE ON TIME, THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN CAUGHT!” Holmes shouted, and pouted like a sulking child. “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again!” “How do you set a house on fire with a spoon, Holmes?” Watson ribbed. “Clearly, another of your many talents.” Holmes growled...then reached up and pulled Watson down - “C’mere, you!” - giving the gray-blonde soldier a noogie and making him shriek and laugh. William watched the shenanigans with utter apathy. Or at least, utter external apathy. Internally, he wished he could have such an open, joking friendship...in truth, Moriarty had never really felt he HAD a true friend till Sherlock Holmes. He’d understood what friendship was, but beyond his family, he tended to see most people - even his closest subordinates - as pawns for use in his grand scheme. “Ahem,” the Professor cleared his throat, and the pair froze...before jumping away from each other like singed cats. The reaction was so much like two young lovers being caught kissing in private that it almost made Moriarty squirm. Almost. “As amusing as these hijinks are...what about your experiment, Holmes?” “Ah!” Sherlock exclaimed, smacking his own forehead. “Thank you, Liam, for reminding me. Watch carefully, both of you…” So saying, Holmes placed the beaker under a large contraption on the table: it consisted of a glass flask, with a burner under it, and a long curlicue tube - which was patched in several places - stretching from its open top. The beaker was set under the end of the tube, and Holmes switched on the burner. The flask was filled with a bright green liquid. It bubbled and fizzed, and soon began to rise in the glass chamber, pumping into the tube. Slowly but surely, it began to make its way through the piping. Holmes watched the fluid flow intently, his feet tapping on the floor like an excited, eager child, his hands drumming his knees impatiently as he muttered to himself. “Yes...yes, good, good...c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon...hmmm, yes-yes-oop! No, no, bad, bad-yes! Good! C’mon, c’mon-ah! That’s it! C’mon, c’mon...yes, yes, yes…!” Both William and Watson leaned close as the fluid reached the end of the tube...and, after an excruciatingly lengthy wait of exactly three seconds...PLIPP. A single green drop plopped into the beaker. FWOOMPH! A puff of smoke burst from the beaker as the fluid turned red...then purple...then changed back to blue. There was a pause...then, Holmes grinned wider. He began to chuckle...and the chuckle became a giggle...and the giggle became a loud, roaring laugh as he jumped out of his chair, throwing his arms up in joy. “IT WORKED! IT WORKED, JOHN!” he almost screamed. Before either of them could comment, Holmes suddenly slapped both hands down on William’s shoulders. Moriarty stiffened almost imperceptibly; he felt his heart almost stop as he looked into the earnest, happy blue eyes of the detective. “Liam...Liam, it worked!” he gasped out. “I knew it! I KNEW it! You knew it, too, yes? Right?” Moriarty blinked a few times; for a moment his mask fell away. His eyes were very wide and seemed to sparkle faintly...but finally, he recomposed himself, and licked his lips thinly before speaking. “I did,” he confirmed with a nod. “Distilled sodium chloride, yes?” “Exactly! EXACTLY!” Holmes cheered with an extremely hyper nod. “Um...wh-what just happened?” Sherlock turned around fast to face Watson. Moriarty felt a pang in his blackened heart as he realized he missed the warmth and closeness. “Oh, you don’t know?” Holmes blinked. “Would I have asked if I did?” Watson reasoned. “Hmph. Touche,” shrugged Sherlock, and pointed to the beaker. “It’s simple, John: that reaction could only have happened if the paper was, at some point, exposed to a great deal of salt water vapor.” Watson gaped. “Then the person who wrote the paper came from somewhere by the sea. Most likely the dockyards!” Watson realized. “Precisely!” Holmes said, with a clap of his hands. “And you know what that means, don’t you?” “That Mr. Harden’s friend is innocent! He lives in a spot far, FAR from the docks; on the other side of London, in fact! Well done, Sherlock!” “Yes, indeed,” William spoke up, a little more forcefully than he usually liked. He wasn’t at all liking the closeness of the pair, in any sense of the word, in that given moment...and, he realized, he had yet to present his invitation to his nemesis. “Now, Mr. Holmes, since you’re experiment’s done, I wanted to know-” “Sherlock!” Watson exclaimed, and Moriarty realized - with no small amount of affrontation - that neither had been listening to him. Watson, however, immediately backpedaled and smiled nervously at the red-eyed guest. “Oh, sorry, Professor…” “No, no. Go ahead,” Moriarty purred, trying not to clench his teeth as he spoke. He barely succeeded. Watson nodded, and looked back to his dark-haired partner in crimefighting. “How about we celebrate with some dinner? My treat!” “Excellent suggestion, John; I didn’t eat at all yesterday, I could use something now,” Holmes admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “You need to watch that,” John warned. “I will try,” Holmes laughed weakly. “Where should we go?” “Why not the Bugle Tavern?” Watson suggested, in a tone that suggested there was some significance in the spot. William James Moriarty was by no means a snob: his upbringing and his philosophy prevented that. But with that said...he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of superiority flood through him when he heard John Watson’s suggestion. He knew the Bugle; he’d taken a witness there for interrogation during the case of the Earl of Argleton. It was not a BAD place, but it was on the seedier side of the city; the food was decent but cheap. Compared to where he planned to take Holmes, it was hardly an even match, and as the detective was his intellectual equal - a man of many similar tastes - it seemed unlikely he’d ever- “A perfect choice, John!” Holmes declared, and William’s perfect poker face very, VERY nearly broke apart at the seams. “We’ll have a quick dinner, then head to the station to speak to Gregson.” “Right,” Watson nodded as he headed to the door and picked up his bowler hat and cane. “Perhaps with the help of our evidence, and a few very simple charts and graphs, we can convince him that night follows day.” “Yes, and that two plus two will inevitably equal four,” Sherlock snickered, and pulled a cigarette from his pocket as he started to follow Watson… ...Then froze...and slowly turned around to look at Moriarty, who still stood beside the chemistry set. “Oh, ah...Liam...I’m sorry, was there something you needed?” he asked. Moriarty blinked slowly...then, gave another of his far-too-happy-looking smiles. “Oh, it can wait till another day!” he sang. “Off you go! Enjoy yourself!” “Thanks, I will,” Holmes chuckled, and turned to Watson, extending the hand that held his cigarette. “Light, please? Again?” Watson obligingly lit the cigarette. Sherlock took a long drag from it, and blew a smoke ring at the ceiling, before leaving the flat. “See ya, Liam!” he called over his shoulder with a quick wave. Watson smiled politely and tipped his hat to the Professor, before using his cane to shut the door as they departed. The instant both were gone, Moriarty’s expression became cold as ice. He slowly turned his head to look out the window - almost the way a snake might turn its head when charmed from a basket - and watched as he soon saw Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson walk out into the soft shower and down the street. He saw the doctor’s arm squeeze Holmes’ shoulder...saw the way the two inched closer… William’s red eyes blazed like burning coals from the pits of Hell. He briskly marched out of the room and down the stairs. “Ah, Professor, there you are!” Miss Hudson greeted, with an oblivious smile, and handed him back his overcoat, hat, and cane. “Did you get what you needed?” Moriarty swung on his coat and carefully placed his hat upon his head. “No,” he said, very, very softly - so softly Miss Hudson wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly - as he took the cane, gripping it so tightly the hidden sword within nearly rattled. “But I still might.” He tipped his hat and left, saying nothing else but “Good day, Miss Hudson,” as he departed the flat house and went to hail a cab.

Miss Hudson wasn’t sure, but she almost swore the red eyes had turned green.

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The following day, at the Moriarty Mansion, William was sitting alone in the study, poring over a quaint and curious volume of Egyptian lore. Louis had prepared tea and sandwiches, and the mastermind - currently dressed in his fine, gold-and-burgundy robe - was sipping from a cup of Earl Gray while he read. A knock came at the study door, and Moriarty glanced quickly at the portal before placing the thin silk bookmark on the page he was focused on. He then shut the leatherbound tome and put it to one side. “Come in, James,” he called out. The door opened, and James Bonde’s turquoise eyes soon connected with William’s. The master spy was dressed in their usual garments: a light gray suit and small homburg hat, a neatly-pressed lavender tie elegantly bound around their throat. Bonde smiled, the beauty mark at the corner of one eye crinkling slightly as they removed their hat and swept some loose strands of corn-colored hair out of their face.

“How did you know it was me?” “Two very good reasons,” William smiled. “First of all, because I was expecting you, and second of all, because I heard your footsteps in the hall, and your step is unlike any other in England.” The Napoleon of Crime waved a hand towards the seat across from him and simply said, “Please.” James Bonde took the hint, and sat down, hands in his lap, legs crossed, chin held up with cocksure pride. “I take it you have a mission for me?” “Should you choose to accept it,” William confirmed with a nod, and lifted his teacup again, stirring the tea with elegant, slight turns of his wrist. “In your...ahem…‘past life,’ you spent some time with my appointed nemesis, yes?” “Yes,” smirked Bonde, a twinkle in their eye that called back to the days when Irene Adler planned her plots. “I guess that means I have the advantage of being the only agent in our organization who’s slept with the enemy.” Moriarty froze, red eyes latching onto Bonde. “Or, at least, in enemy territory,” James corrected quickly. Moriarty smiled. “James,” he said, far-too-sweetly. “You know how I really feel about him, don’t you?” Bonde nodded slowly, their own smile faltering a bit in confusion. “Well then, please don’t make jokes like that again,” William went on, in a voice that indicated he was a hundred times more aggravated than he chose to let on. James gulped nervously as William sipped his tea far, FAR too crisply. He could almost imagine the unspoken words from the Napoleon of Crime: If you do, they’ll never find your body. “...I’m, uh...I-I’m sorry,” Bonde stammered out with uncharacteristic fear. “It’s fine,” William said with a light sigh, and shook his head as he put his teacup down. His smile settled into a look of sincere apology. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bonde. I’m...feeling a little testy today, that’s all.” Sensing he was out of danger, James nodded and smiled back sympathetically. “I take it your nemesis is what my mission concerns?” the spy said, and then turned serious, frowning. “Is he getting in the way too often?” “Not often enough,” mumbled Professor Moriarty, and shook his head again, this time in answer. “No, James, it’s not that. And it’s not Mr. Holmes I want you to deal with.” James raised an eyebrow. “Dr. Watson, then?” Bonde guessed. “As a matter of fact, yes,” William said, and sat back in his seat, steepling his fingers. “I want you to keep an eye on the flat for two weeks. I want you to pay particular attention to Watson, and whenever he and Holmes leave together for any reason, follow them. I don’t care if they’re simply going to shop for tobacco at the market: keep tabs on them both. Next Friday, you will make a final report on anything suspicious you encountered.” “Suspicious? In what way?” Bonde frowned. “You’d expect US to be the ones up to no good, after all.” Moriarty chuckled. “I will let you be the judge,” he purred, smoothly. Bonde looked confused, but nodded slowly. “Very well, I’ll take the job,” James said, and cocked his head. “But...William...why?” Moriarty shut his eyes, pausing as he tried to decide on his words. “Let us simply say,” he answered steadily, “That I’m concerned about their relationship. Take careful stock of all you see, while I deal with the plans for our next caper, and the rest deal with other matters.” “As you wish,” Bonde said, and stood up from his chair, replacing his hat. “One other thing, James,” Moriarty added, lifting a single finger in instruction. “This mission is particularly special: I’d like to keep it between us. Tell no one else: not any other member of the gang. Not even my own brothers.” James frowned, narrowing his eyes; he wasn’t sure what was so important that had William this worked up...but clearly it mattered a great deal to the Professor. The True M. “Yes, sir,” Bonde said, and tapped his hat brim. “I’ll do my best.” “Very good. You are dismissed; if you need help, inform me. Good day, Bonde.” “Good day, Professor,” smiled James, and exited promptly. The moment the door shut behind James Bonde, William sighed to himself, bowing his head quietly in musing thought. “I suppose,” he whispered to the empty room of books, “That it’s quite wasteful of me to use my Knight for such a menial job in the grand scheme of the game...one should never misuse resources…” He paused...then smirked as he lifted his teacup again, and took another sip before picking up his book to continue reading. “...Then again,” he chuckled lightly, “I’ve committed far worse sins than a little self-indulgent espionage. I AM the Lord of Crime.” He glared as he hissed under his breath: “If anyone is stealing a heart here, it’s going to be ME.”

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James Bonde stared somewhat dully out the window of the empty house across the street from 221B Baker Street. Teal-toned eyes kept a careful watch in the night on the one lit room in the house. He could see the silhouette of Sherlock Holmes, fiddling away on his violin. He could hear the detective playing, too...a nostalgic smile came to his face; he could almost remember hearing those tunes play him to sleep, in another lifetime… Bonde shook his head and lightly slapped his own cheek (more of a rough pat) to keep himself focused. He’d been instructed by William, to watch them from the moment they awoke to the moment they went to bed. The doctor had evidently retired some time ago, but Holmes was still up and about, playing his violin and tinkering with his contraptions. It had been a few days since Bonde started his mission, and Holmes had been given a case by one Mr. Cubitt from Norfolk, involving a mysterious secret code. Bonde had followed Holmes and Watson every which way they went, but so far, nothing of particular unsuality had occurred; Holmes refused to travel to Norfolk till Cubitt sent more information, and so much of their days were spent in the flat, simply trying to puzzle out what they had been given so far. As a result, the past three days had really been quite boring for Bonde. A part of him felt a pang, as it always did, and he wished William had given him a different job; the side that was still Irene Adler wished she could walk across the street and just...tell Holmes the simple fact. Certainly, he guessed she was still alive, but...that was nothing to a direct encounter. James Bonde was a professional, and held out: whatever purpose William had for this mission - be it personal, or something related to the Great Problem - his job was to keep a close eye on things and keep track of any interesting movements: from before they woke up to the moment they both clocked out. Right on cue, Holmes’ silhouette disappeared from the window...and not but sixty seconds later, the light in the room went out. Bond sighed softly, and stood up, stretching; the room in the Empty House was small, dark, and not very large. It was lonely, too: aside from getting meals, Bonde stayed here all day, and could not focus too much on any great amusements, such as reading, lest he lose focus. All he had was solitaire; Moran had been teaching him how to play cards, and it was better than nothing. Bonde grumbled to himself about the slowness of the case as he began to pack up his playing cards...but no sooner had he tucked the box back into a pocket in his jacket lining...than he froze, as he saw the front door of 221B open. From his spot in the window, Bonde watched intently, wondering what was going on. The unmistakable figure of Dr. Watson crept quietly out the door. He shut it silently, and glanced from side to side, as if checking to make sure no one on the street was watching him. The street was silent and quiet; lonely on that dark night. The Doctor twirled his cane, propping its length against his elbow, and began to stroll down the street. Bonde could make out Watson’s brown eyes; they furtively darted from side to side in a ferret-like way. Unlike Moriarty, Dr. Watson had an absolute lack of anything resembling a poker face. Bonde continued to watch as Watson approached an alley...then, after checking once again, slipped into the passage between the buildings and vanished. Suddenly realizing he’d lost track of his target, Bonde cursed under his breath and raced downstairs and across the street… ...But by the time he reached the alley, Dr. Watson was nowhere to be found. “Damn,” muttered Bonde...then took a breath, and straightened his tie and hair, which had been tousled in his quick sprint. There was nothing to be done now; the question was, whether to report this to William now, or wait? After pondering for a moment, Bonde walked off down the street back towards his own lodgings. He would wait. It’s what William would want. For all he knew, this was a one-time affair; whatever had Watson acting so sneakily, it could be resolved by morning. Then he would have no reason to worry at all. Right?

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“Six times?” Professor Moriarty repeated, blinking quickly in surprise. “Yes: six times in just two weeks. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, in fact,” nodded James Bonde, standing almost like a warrior at attention as he made his private report. He was standing near the threshold of William’s room in the manor. William James Moriarty was dressed in his usual clothes, minus his brown coat, which currently hung loosely on his bedpost. “And you’ve lost him every time?” William frowned; he didn’t sound angry, or even disappointed. He was simply checking his facts. “Not exactly,” Bonde claimed, and hastened to elaborate: “The past two times, I was able to catch up with him, but I can’t follow him beyond a certain point.” “What do you mean?” “He’s been visiting a noble’s house.” William’s eyes widened. “He’s what?” “To the Forrester estate,” clarified Bonde. “He climbs over the wall at a certain point, leaps into the yard...then, every night, after a couple hours, crawls back up and high-tails it back to Baker Street.” “Hmmmm,” Moriarty murmured, placing a finger to his lips in thought as he looked down at the floor, brow furrowing. “Have you seen what happens when he goes over the gate?” “This last time, yes,” nodded Bonde. “He doesn’t enter the house, but instead runs to a gazebo in the courtyard. He clearly knows the residence well; he knows when the night watchman comes around with his dog, and avoids them.” Professor Moriarty scowled and made a sour sound in the back of this throat.. Things were more serious than he thought: behavior like that wasn’t just sneaky, it was literally criminal. It appeared that a stolen heart was far from the worst thing he had to fear from John H. Watson. “What do you think he’s up to, William?” James asked. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. Yet,” Moriarty responded. “But I intend to find out.”

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That very night, being a Friday, Professor Moriarty lay in wait behind a tree, in a park area across from the Forrester Estate. He wore a long, black, hooded cloak over his usual suit, and gripped his sword cane tightly in one hand. His red eyes glowed in the dark as he kept his focus zeroed in on the high stone walls of the mansion spot. The Forrester Family was not a bad one, nor even the most noble: they were gentry, people in the upper-middle class, who qualified among the elite but lacked the status of proper Lords and Ladies, Knights and Dames, and so on. With what they had, they were generous, and most considered them friendly. William had nothing against them, and while he sought to destroy the social order...that didn’t mean destroying the good in it. What he wanted was to eradicate evil through his own means… ...He wasn’t sure whether or not to hope he would have to do that tonight. He saw the glare of a bullseye lamp through the grates in the black iron gate that closed off the estate. The distant shape of a man with a large, black dog on a leash walked past and then disappeared: that was the night watchman James Bonde had mentioned, no doubt. Almost on cue, not long after the watchman passed, Moriarty saw a familiar figure - dressed in a green coat and a dark blue bowler hat - trot around a corner. Moriarty narrowed his eyes as Dr. Watson flattened his back against the wall. His expression was tense, worried...almost scared. He glanced from side to side, and sighed with relief; he hadn’t noticed William, and was glad to find apparently no one had spotted him yet. “It’s alright,” William heard Watson say. “What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him…” Moriarty felt his own eyes blazing as he suspected who the “he” Watson referred to was. “Soon,” Watson added to himself, adjusting his tie and then looking up at the wall. “Soon...it will all be over…” Then, without another word, the Doctor jumped up and grabbed hold of the wall’s edge. He let out a sharp yipe, and bit his lip to silence himself; as he scrambled up to climb over the wall, the sounds and motions he made reminded William so much of a big, dumb dog trying to clamber over a fence, he nearly laughed. Nearly. Not quite. From what he was hearing, he was beginning to have grave worries. Once Watson disappeared over the wall, William took his turn to check and make sure there were no witnesses nearby...then - cloak fluttering about him as he went - he raced to the wall, and leapt over it with the grace of a gazelle. The courtyard was lushly kept, with grass, small topiary trees, and little yellow flowers all around. Quaint and tended to with perfect decorum. Across the lawn of green grass, Watson saw Dr. Watson racing towards a distant red-and-blue gazebo; it was octagonal in shape, and was a closed-off affair; no door, but with thick, tinted windows on seven of its eight sides. William was about to dart forward...when he heard the barking of the Watchman’s dog. Quickly, he dove into the bushes, and crouched low. The Watchman and his dog soon hurried to the spot; both looked around, then the man mumbled something to the black hound...and the pair continued on their way. William waited till their footsteps faded...then, stole across the lawn and made a dash towards the distant gazebo, stealing across the courtyard with such silence, he might as well have been a part of that black night. The Master Criminal only paused once more; this was when he noticed he had to run past an open window, and the light was still on. Inside, he saw Cecil Forrester - the lady of the house - speaking with a maid. Both were fair women with chestnut-colored hair. The two left the room, and Moriarty continued towards the gazebo, keeping low and moving with quiet quickness; one might have mistaken him for a wolf, stalking its prey. Moriarty traced a wide path as he drew closer and closer to the gazebo; he had no desire to be spotted when he got too close. Once he reached it, he flattened himself quietly against the glass-paneled walls, and sidled closer to the open entrance. As he moved nearer, Moriarty could hear a voice; it was tremuluous, faint, and he couldn’t quite make out properly who it belonged to or what they were saying. Once he was right beside the door, that voice stopped...and he picked up the unmistakable sound of John Watson’s voice. Now, he could most certainly make out the words… “It’s too soon. I don’t want to take any risks. This is a delicate operation; one false step, and everything could be ruined. But don’t worry...if worse comes to worse, I can handle him. He won’t be a problem. We’ll get everything we want...nothing is going to stop us. I swear it.” William narrowed his eyes into crimson slits, and prepared to draw his cane sword...before whipping around the side and spinning into the gazebo. “‘Hell is empty. All the devils are-’” The melodramatic quote was stopped short as William froze in place and his eyes went wide at what he saw. Dr. Watson - who had just kissed the lips of the person with him - gasped and backed away fast… ...Leaving a young, beautiful lady standing alone in the center of the gazebo, her indigo eyes wide and bright with surprise. Her hair was the color of brass, and she was dressed in the prim, proper outfit of a governess. Moriarty and the young woman stared at each other, each equally stunned. It was Watson’s stuttered, scared exclamation that broke them out of their momentary stupor. “P-Pr-Pro-Professor M-Moriarty!” he managed to cough out...then, impulsively, he moved forward again… ...And held the young lady close, in a protective, caring way. She coiled back against him, looking startled and more than a little scared by the red-eyed stranger that had swooped into the area. “What...what are you doing here?” Watson asked, a little accusatorily. Moriarty soon regained his composure, the look of utter speechlessness leaving his face as it slid back into his usual, blank, mask-like features. “Following you,” he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and pointed his cane at the young lady. “Who is this, and what is going on?” Watson squirmed a bit uncomfortably at the Professor’s blood-eyed stare. He held the woman closer and then answered. “I...this is...my fiance,” he answered, and turned rather pink in the face. “Her...her name is Mary Morstan.” Moriarty blinked. His expression didn’t shift an inch. “Fiance?” he repeated, not sounding surprised, but simply questioning. “Y-Yes,” the woman answered. William realized he was still holding out his cane...and, not wishing to frighten the young lady any further, lowered his secret weapon. Mary smiled and sighed gratefully before going on: “I work for Mrs. Forrester; I live here. It’s, um...i-it’s a pleasure to meet you, ah...Mr. Moriarty.” William paused, before giving a single nod. “Mutual,” he responded, but his voice was still quite frosty, then looked back to Watson. “Is this why you’ve been sneaking out three nights a week?” Watson blanched. “H-How did you…?” “I have my ways,” William answered, smoothly. Watson flushed and shuffled on his feet. He hugged Mary close with one arm, his other hand holding hers as she embraced him. He smiled bashfully before looking back to Moriarty. “I...we proposed in secret,” he admitted. “I met Mary thanks to a case. I’ve been...I’ve been keeping this secret from Sherlock.” “Why?” William wondered. Watson frowned and looked askance. “Because I’m not sure if Holmes would approve,” he admitted, quietly, a sad look in his eyes. “He...the two of us have been inseparable, since we met, and...I’m worried about how he’ll react when he finds out about Mary and I.” “So you’ve been meeting her in secret; to rendezvous under the stars,” Moriarty romantically surmised. Watson blushed more and Mary giggled. “Something like that, Professor, yes,” Miss Morstan confirmed in a saccharine sort of way. “Is that what you were whispering about?” William presumed. “Saying you weren’t ready, that you could handle him?” “Yeah,” Watson chuckled, and scratched the back of his head. “I, uh...I-I guess wording like that could sound kinda suspicious, huh?” William sighed through his nose as Mary giggled again. “Very,” William agreed. His face remained blank, his lips still set in a straight line as he then went on: “If I may advise you, Doctor...I think you should tell Holmes soon.” Watson frowned and lowered his head; he looked amusingly guilty, like a little boy caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “Well...I know I SHOULD, but...I don’t want to make him mad,” he admitted, almost meekly. “Not about this. I still want to work with him, and...and he’s my friend, so…” “So,” Moriarty interrupted, “Shouldn’t you be used to sharing secrets with him?” Watson looked up, a little startled. Moriarty’s expression had become a thin, taut smile. “If Mr. Holmes is truly your friend, he should be able to handle something like this,” he reasoned. “Perhaps he’ll be jealous or untrusting at first, but that is to be expected. But behavior like this is dangerous, and it could lead to more bad than good. You shouldn’t be afraid to admit to Holmes things like this.” Watson bit his lip, and looked at Mary, who nodded back to him. He smiled, then looked back up at the Professor. “Yeah. That...I guess that’s right. I’ll...I’ll see about telling him soon. And...and no more of these...these midnight liaisons.” He looked back to his fiance. “We’ll meet on our own terms, without all this roundabout racing. Right, Mary?” “Of course,” she responded, and kissed his nose, making the doctor give a bashful, red-faced smile. Moriarty looked the pair up and down as they hugged...then turned on his heel. “Well,” he said, shortly and sharply. “Now, with that issue settled, I’ll be on my way.” Watson watched as Moriarty left the gazebo and began to walk back towards the wall. His brow knitted itself into a knot, and he paused, whispering “One moment” to Mary before kissing her forehead and hastily hustling out of the gazebo. “Professor!” he called out, and Moriarty paused. His red eyes glittered like rubies as he turned back over his shoulder, expression chilling. Watson didn’t seem scared. He smiled in a kind, amiable manner. “Why DID you follow me?” he asked, simply and bluntly. Moriarty said nothing. Watson paused before taking a guess: “Were you concerned about Sherlock?” Moriarty nodded, still saying nothing. Watson chuckled and smiled gently. “You don’t need to worry, Professor: when I hide things from him, it’s nothing sinister. Sherlock his my best friend, and one of the most fascinating people I know.” “I’m glad you think so.” “Oh, I know it’s so. Just like I know the reason why you looked so jealous when I asked him to join me for dinner.” Moriarty’s eyes widened...then narrowed again. Watson smiled humbly. “I AM getting better,” he said, in a faint, cheeping sort of voice. “You won’t tell him, will you?” William checked, voice staying even, conveying neither worry nor rage. Watson smiled a patient smile; he placed a hand on the young Professor’s shoulder, causing Moriarty to stiffen with surprise. “You just told me that, if he’s really my friend, I shouldn’t keep secrets from him,” Watson stated. “I think the same is in reverse: whatever you feel for him...I think he needs to hear it from you. No one else.” William paused...and his bangs hid his eyes from sight. “And if he doesn’t feel the same?” he queried, in a strangely business-like tone. “I think he will,” Watson chuckled. “You two are practically made for each other: you’re both extraordinary. You both live for the game. You’re both intelligent. You’re two of a kind! I know it’s not the kind of relationship our society smiles upon, but...if it’s the true way you feel, why should that matter?” He patted Moriarty’s shoulder, and then finished: “You’re two sides of the same coin. You belong together...Liam.” William was silent...then, a slick smile slithered over his lips. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll remember that. But please...don’t call me Liam.” Watson pulled back quickly and let out a nervous laugh. “Ah...heh heh...s-sorry, I won’t.” “Thank you,” Moriarty repeated, and gave a mock salute with his cane. “Goodnight, Doctor. And do apologize to Miss Morstan for me: my unseemingly dramatic entrance no doubt gave her quite a fright.” “You can say that again,” mumbled Watson, and returned the mock salute with a real soldier’s stance. “Goodnight, Professor!” William smiled a little wider...and then walked forward. His dark cloak allowed him to easily slip into the shadows...and soon he was gone. As he prowled through the city back towards home, William James Moriarty couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t felt this good in a while.

The Devil swore the lightness in his heart must have been what Angels felt every day.

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“Married with two children. Native of Suffolk. Works in a public house.” “The shoes gave it away?” “Yeah, yeah. Invalid husband; dismissed from the army for his injuries four years ago.” “Three.” “Oh, yes, of course, three! Lastly, at least one of them has a drinking problem.” Sherlock Holmes took a swig of ale from the pewter cup he held and sighed, smacking his lips as the woman he’d been scrutinizing disappeared. He then turned to the party across from him with a daring smile. “Your turn, Liam!” William James Moriarty smirked cunningly, and looked out the window. His blazing, cat-like eyes soon caught sight of his chosen prey. “Bachelor by choice,” he began, noting a gentleman in a stovepipe hat who was passing by. “Scholarly by nature; a frequent visitor to the library. Smokes far too much. Works at a very fine hotel, most likely in an administrative position.” “Birth and residence?” “Lancashire for the former, Yorkshire for the latter. I believe he’s visiting London for the sake of family, but he doesn’t much care FOR said family. I speculate his bachelor status might be the reason-ah! He’s gone. That’s all.” William smiled back at a beaming Sherlock Holmes, drumming the fingers of one hand on the table as his chin rested on the other. “How was that, Mr. Detective?” he purred. Sherlock laughed and applauded. “Liam, you excel yourself!” “I try,” shrugged Moriarty, without much modesty, and lifted his own pewter cup before taking a drink. All around the pair, the bustle and hustle of the Bugle Tavern buzzed and hummed and bellowed...but neither gave it much attention. “I’m so glad you accepted my invitation to dinner,” William said, sincerely, folding his hands on the table with a quiet smile. “Eh,” Holmes shrugged, stirring his drink in its mug as he spoke. “When we met for lunch in Durham, you were busy grading papers. I’m glad we could just have a meal together. Although…” He paused, and then gestured with a careless wave of his free hand around the establishment. “...I am surprised a nobleman would choose to eat HERE.” William smiled a bit wider, and glanced about. A few people were giving him odd looks; it was rare someone so well-to-do showed up in this place. He shrugged again and smiled to Holmes. “I am full of surprises,” was all he said. “Isn’t that the truth,” chuckled Holmes and took another drink. Moriarty watched the detective for a few moments, eyes scanning him. His crimson irises flickered vulnerably for a split second before he spoke again. “Mr. Holmes...may I be very frank with you?” “Sure,” Holmes drawled. “What’s up?” “I’m very glad I met you.” Sherlock blinked and froze, his smile fading. “Eh?” he tilted his head. “Why do you say that? I mean...I’m flattered, obviously, but...what brought this on?” “It’s...hard for me to say,” William admitted with a very soft laugh, before going on. “It’s just...while I have my fair share of friends, and a family of my own that cares for me...I’ve always felt this...disconnect from the world around me.” He glanced out the window as he went on, watching people go by. “Like you, I can look at a person and analyze everything about them...and I can do it very rapidly. While on the surface I am placid as a still lake, my mind is always racing out of control. The sheer amount of mental exertion I go through just in the span of taking a single breath can be exhausting. The rest of the world moves...so slowly. Too slowly. Everyone going about their lives, making differences in small ways or simply shambling around…their minds so rarely used to their fullest...” He tilted his head downwards. “...There are so many days where I feel...I’m totally alone in the universe. Where the mental strain becomes too great.” He paused...then looked back up at Sherlock, once again flashing one of “his” smiles. “It’s relieving to know there’s someone even more mentally fractured than I!” Holmes snorted with laughter. “Well,” he muttered, taking a drink, “We all have our problems, don’t we?” He paused...then licked his lips of some foam as he put down his ale and leaned forward on the table. “I...I have to admit...it’s good to be able to talk to someone who can work on my level,” Sherlock said, with a surprisingly tender smile. “Someone who isn’t my obnoxious control freak of a brother, I mean. I…it’s like...” He paused, biting his lip, hesitantly...then sighed and ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head. “Ahhh...I’m not good at heartfelt confessions,” he mumbled, and gave an almost sheepish smile. “I guess...I’m trying to say I feel the same way. And...it...it honestly feels really good to hear you...say all that, even in such a teasing way.” The pair smiled at each other, their eyes seemingly magnetized as they found themselves leaning and inching closer across the table. “...Holmes…” “Yes, Liam?” “I...feel there’s something else I should tell you.” “Yes?” was the breathy response. William’s lips were quivering as he moved nearer. “I...I think I might be in lo-” “GENTLEMEN!” Both shot back, sitting straight up in their chairs as a fat waiter with a bristly moustache waddled over to their table, and placed their meals - two plates of steak with baked potatoes - upon the table. “‘Ere’s yer food, gents!” he boomed. “I ‘ope ye find it t’yer likin’!” “I’m sure we will,” Moriarty smiled with a nod, his composure so fully complete it was as if nothing had happened. “Thank you, sir.” “Talk to ya later, Pete!” sniggered Holmes with a wink. The waiter winked back, nodded to Professor Moriarty, and then trundled off. “What were you saying, Liam?” Sherlock asked, as he began to cut into his steak, sawing off a huge chunk and stuffing it into his mouth. William much more elegantly carved a tiny square off his slab of beef, and hummed happily as he savored the juices upon popping it into his mouth. “I forget,” he lied through his teeth...then gave a challenging smile as he glanced to each of their pewters. “Say, Mr. Holmes…” “Mm-hm?” Sherlock grunted through a full mouth. “How much can you drink in a single sitting? Before you collapse?” Sherlock paused mid-chew...then smirked around his stuffed chompers, chewing a few more times, slowly, before gulping down his food. He stifled a burp in his fist and gave a cocksure smirk. “Probably more than you, fancy-pants,” he bragged. “Would you like to make a wager?” Moriarty crooned. “Sure! We’ll make it a race! First to finish twelve straight rounds without falling over wins!” declared Holmes. “Think you can handle that, Mr. Mathematician?” “As long as you can count that high,” was the sharp response. Holmes cackled and lifted his pewter. “You’re on, Liam! May the best man win!” William James Moriarty put down his fork and knife, and lifted his ale. As he clanked it against Sherlock’s, he answered the dare with one of his own, his eyes sultry as he slithered out his response. “Catch me if you can, Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock Holmes shivered almost invisibly, and quickly took a drink. As Liam’s seductive red glare caught his azure eyes, the criminal mastermind had no idea that the one thought on his mind was being copied by the other man at the table. Someday, I’ll tell him I love him. Someday.

The End

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sweetchup · 4 years

Text

💌Love/Hate💌

Type: Pariston Hill x Reader

Prompts: Soulmate Au (Colorblind) + 7– Innocent/Corruption Kink

Author Note: OMG I am so so so sorry this took so long. I’m not sure what it was but my brain couldn’t write for Pariston. Like it was if the zodiacs took over and put it into a total shut down mode. It was insane. (ALSO Small warning, this is Pariston and, as expected, he’s an abusive dick)

(Valentine’s Day Masterlist)

When you had first accepted the job of being randomly assigned someone’s secretary, you hadn’t expected to be assigned to the CEO of a high end tech company. You mean, who in the world would have known that by just calling a flyer on a street corner would have led to working with someone so prestigious.

It almost sounded too good to be true!

….And, you wished you hadn’t jinxed yourself in that moment. The CEO of that high end tech company actually turned out to be only 21, having inherited the company from his father. He was not only a spoiled brat and a player but, my god, was he lazy. You were sure that if you hadn’t spent hours on the phone discussing ideas with his father and done all the paperwork for him, that the company would be in ruins before someone could say “We’re broke!”.

Though, no matter how hard you worked your ass off these past couple months, nothing could prepare you for this moment.

“Dear god someone help me…”

You and his father had told him many times over this week. On February 14 at noon, you have an important meeting with the Hunter Association. You can’t miss it.

But, of course, that lazy ass was running late. By 45 minutes to be exact.

“Miss (y/n), is Mr Avoli going to be showing up any time soon? It isn’t like him to be late.”

… And it surely didn’t help that you were standing in the meeting room, waiting for him with the Hunters Association's very own Zodiacs.

Shamefully, you turn to the doglike woman who had introduced herself as ‘Cheadle’ earlier and give an apologetic bow, “I-I deeply apologize. You see Mr Avoli's son, Hunter Avoli, recently took over the company. I reminded him constantly this past week about the meeting but I’m afraid he may have forgotten...”

“Oh that guy.” You hear the monkey zodiac ‘Saiyu’ spit out in disgust, “He is almost as bad as that dirt bag, Ging.”

“It’s not a problem Miss (y/n). I’ve met Hunter many times before so I’ve seen first hand how unprofessional he acts. This is clearly not your fault.” Cheadle reassures, giving you enough confidence to lift your head up from bowing to look at her as some of the Zodiacs complain in the background.

As you stare at the grayish colored woman, you can’t help but wonder what color she was wearing. Due to you still not having found your soulmate, you can only see the color of your soulmate’s eye color. Which, in your case, was brown. A chocolate brown to be exact.

And, usually dogs were brownish in color so you kind of wondered what color Miss Chealde chose instea—

“We are still waiting on the chairman and two other zodiacs so why don’t you take the chance to try and give Hunter a call.” Mizaistom, the ox zodiac, suggests suddenly.

“O-oh of course. Thank you very much Miss Cheadle, Mr Mizaistom. I’ll be very quick— Eep!”

Oh god why me?

Just as you made your way to the door to exit the room, someone on the other side had already swung it open. Making you, in pure surprise and shock, take a step backwards. Though, just like how your day is going so far, Luck truly didn’t seem to be on your side as you end up tripping on your own two feet and begin to fall backwards.

You expected to land hard on the cold tile floor in front of everyone, extremely embarrassing really, but instead you don’t. You still hit something firm and hard but… it was different. Actually, now that you think about it, you felt higher up than you were before…

“Ah, Ging this is why I said you shouldn’t barge into rooms so suddenly! You scared our poor guest!” A voice suddenly calls out from behind you, his breath slightly tickling the shell of your ear. Quickly, in surprise, you whip your head around to—

…Shit.

As your eyes lock with the male’s chocolate brown ones the room suddenly bursts into a flurry of color. Blues, reds, greens, maybe yellows? You honestly didn’t know the proper names for all the colors you were seeing for the first time. However, in all this chaos, you happened to know two things.

One, That you had just met your soulmate and Two,...

… it was none other than the Vice Chairman himself, Pariston Hill.

“Oh my! How unexpected!” Pariston chuckles out, causing what seems to be sparkles to pop out around him, “I never thought our guest here today would end up being my soulmate. Not at all!”

“I—“ “Shut up Rat!”

You freeze as something suddenly comes flying past your head. What the fuck...

“You have a soulmate? Not a Chance! Not a Chance! Not a Chance!”

“Quit joking.”

“I doubt the King Of Kickbacks would have an ordinary soulmate.”

It was as if a bomb had erupted in the room, everyone was in pure disbelief at what Pariston had just said, Suggested, he even had (Well everyone except Ging, of course). Hell, some of them haven’t even found their own soulmates yet. So, why did the heartless ass Rat get to have one?!

“I assure you, I’m speaking the truth. Why would I lie about something like this?”

We can think of many reasons…

“U-uh…” You suddenly speak out, slightly flinching as everyone’s attention turns to you, “He is telling the truth… I saw colors other than brown for the first time when we locked eyes.”

“See!” Pariston says happily, pulling you affectionately closer to him in his hold. As you are flustered by the act from the handsome man, he takes the chance to walk to what you believe is in the direction of an empty seat. However, you soon realize that wasn’t what he was intending as he walked right by it and leaves through the other door located in the room.

“Hey Rat!! Where do you think you are GOING!?!” The tigerlike man screeches out, storming through the door you two just left as well.

“Well, I’m going to spend time with my soulmate of course.” Pariston exclaims, his smile not even flinching as bloodlust from the other zodiacs creeps out from the room.

“As if I—“ Suddenly, a loud chuckle behind you rings out, cutting Kanzai off.

“C-Chairman Netero!” You squeak out in surprise at the older man. Oh god, what a disaster. As someone trying to make a deal to him, this looks bad. So bad.

“My, what a twist!” The Chairman rings out, stroking his beard as he thinks as he walks past you two. “Hmm… You and (y/n) can be excused from today’s meeting, Pariston.”

“B-But, Chairman!” Kanzai rebuts. Soon shutting up however as the chairman grabs onto the collar of his jersey.

“It only makes sense to give them alone time, Kanzai. We will just call Mr Aloisi for the meeting instead of having (y/n) give it to us.” Netero explains, giving you a small wink as he drags Kanzai as if he was some kitty cat back into the meeting room.

What a strange group…

As you sit there stunned at everything that has happened so far, you don’t realize Pariston has already begun walking again. It takes you a while to realize as well, precisely the loud sound of the door of his private office being closed. He must have walked pretty fast…

“A-ah. Umm you can put me down now.” You mumble out to the… Blonde man (unable to tell if that was the correct color).

“Hmm. What was that?” Pariston asks, as if he didn’t quite hear you from before.

“Oh. I was wondering if you could put me down.” You tell him again. Shit, the way you said that came out bad. “I-I mean I’m really appreciative of you saving me but you are likely getting tired of holding me and I can walk on my own.”

“Oh!”

You expected at that exclamation that Pariston would instantly put you down to the floor, but instead he walks over to his deck and places you down in front of that. Odd, but you don’t question the sparkly man.

Speaking of odd, as you looked around the room, you realized it was really cold in here. Much colder than the conference room and hallway. God, what a bad day to wear a skirt but no tights. Especially those insulated ones you recently bought.

“Are you Cold?” Pariston suddenly voices up, causing you to turn behind you to look at him. He still hadn’t moved from his spot right behind you.

“A-ah yes I am. I don’t want to be a bother but could you possibly turn it down a couple of notches?” You ask, taking a step back a little to give a little bit of space between you two.

“I’m afraid I can’t. My thermostat broke this morning.” Pariston exclaims, his smile turning into a bit of a frown. However, that didn’t last long as he soon had a full blown out smile again. “But, I do have my jacket that I wore to work this morning. It should be… Ah! There it is! Right on the seat of my chair if you want to grab it.”

“Oh.. thank you.” You give Pariston a small smile before leaning over the desk to grab the brown coat.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it but for some odd reason you didn’t feel fully comfortable around him. Which was even weirder because you didn’t understand what was causing it. Shouldn’t you naturally feel comfortable around your soulmate?

Perhaps, you just needed to get to know him better. That’s likely it. Your just nervous since he was supposed to be your clien—

“Ah!” You let out a yelp as you feel pressure and sharp pain in your lower regions. At first, you thought it was perhaps a weird cramp or something like that. However, once you fully grasped what you were feeling, you realized you were just trying to make yourself believe that.

“Oh whoops! Tight. Tight. That must have hurt.” Pariston chuckles out, rocking his hips back and forth as his eyes watched his cock disappear and reappear out of your hole. Harshly letting go of the strap of your panties that he had pulled aside to watch as an ever so slight bit of blood comes out in your slick. Delighted to see such results.

“P-Pariston. Please be gentle.” You gasp out, turning yourself by your waist to place a hand on the man’s chest. Ever so slightly fisting the fabric of his suit when he suddenly gave a really hard thrust. “Let’s slow down… too soon…”

“How come? I thought you said you were grateful to me right?” Pariston teased out, pulling your hand off his suit as well as pushing your front down against the desk. Making it so you were trapped underneath him.

“I-I am but—“ “Shh… I’m only taking my reward!”

However, even with your constant pleas for him to be slower, gentler, Pariston continued his actions. Watching you grow more and more wet as that uncomfortable burning sensation suddenly turned into pure ecstasy.

It was perfect…

Pressed down against the desk, unable to move as you were essentially being taken advantage of by him. Your very own soulmate.

It was embarrassing, agonizing and traumatizing.

Surely, you hated him. You despised him.

Having waited long enough, Pariston decided to finally pull out and flip you over so he could see you and the results of his hard work. “Now, Now my dear. It’s not so—“

Pariston feels himself blink a couple of times.

Oh… So, you were one of those types huh?

It was if you were some humanized version of a golden retriever. Your eyes that were supposed filled with terror or hatred were still as sparkly and innocent before you began. You were loyal to him to a fault and he honestly doubted you could bring it in your heart to even hate him.

It was annoying but it wasn’t that big of a problem. He could always break you in other ways.

However, that’s not exactly what was troubling him right now.

Fluttering? Or, Bubbles?

Whatever it was, he didn’t understand why he was feeling this sort of way. Especially seeing you look at him like that. With that love filled look…

“Pariston…” You mumble out, your voice slightly slurred. “Are you okay? Are you done?”

Are you okay?

Those three words ring in Pariston’s head. Eventually, causing him to break his composure and let out a light laugh.

“Aw. Did I leave you high and dry? Here I’ll fix that.” Pariston calls out. A slight shiver going up his spine as he hears you let out a small moan as he slips back into your dripping cunt.

You know what, he didn’t care how strange you were making him feeling.

Whether you looked at him with loved dazed eyes…

Or cried out how much you hated him with those kissable lips of yours.

Either way, he would enjoy every bit of playing with you. You had the rest of your miserable lives to try it out after all.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #pariston #pariston hill #pariston x reader #pariston hill x reader #hxh pariston

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uwuwriting · 4 years

Text

Momo, Mina, Jirou and Uraraka with a soft, affectionate girlfriend

So there wasn’t only one request for my girls here, there were like five so imma just improvise with the summary here, Basically how the girls would be like with an affectionate and cute/soft girlfriend. Ya know my bi ass has had a crush on Mina since day 1 and Momo can like step on me. I haven’t written anything for our girl squad like ever and that should be a crime. Love ya. 💖💖💖

rules

masterlist

warnings: fluff

Momo Yaoyorozu

-Soft girl herself.

-Although she is a straight up dom, her soft girly and flustered side comes out while you two spend time together.

-She loves your clothes, will literally have a stroke if she sees you in a soft baby pink outfits.

-You look extra cute and soft and fluffy and oh so kissable.

-Your bubbly personality scares her insecurities away.

-Like if she starts doubting herself while you’re around you mind go into killer mode and roundhouse her ass for talking bad about herself.

-She is really impressed by your emotional switch.

-I mean she physically sees you being all lovey dovey with her and your friends, the sweetest brightest ray of sunshine that has ever graced this earth and the moment Mineta opens his mouth to say some shit your aura changes.

-You can almost see the darkness that surrounds you while the grape talks.

-A savage.

-Although you are a really feminine individual no one should dare underestimate you.

-She becomes an extra proud girlfriend when she sees you kick some Bakugou ass because he called you a girly extra.

-Low key scared of your berserk mode but she loves you.

-Soft dates.

-She knows you love colorful flowers and you are generally really closely connected with nature so dates to the park or to the cherry blossoms during spring are necessary.

-Her family loves you.

-They welcomed you with open arms the very first time you stepped in their home as Momo’s friend.

-Her mom could see how much her daughter liked you and she shipped it.

-Her and Mina are your number 1 stans.

-Expect to be spoiled to death.

-You glance at a dress while you two are out on a date?

-Its in your closet the very next day.

-You bake for her and she falls even deeper in love with you.

-She’s weak for your cakes and more often than not she will sneak some into her room.

-Your cuddling powers are out of this world.

-She will come to your dorm after a long day and just lose herself in your embrace.

-She only sleeps in your room if you ask her to stay the night.

-Despite how tired she may be she will pick herself up and drag her feet to her room.

-All in all a wholesome relationship.

-Soft babiesss

Mina Ashido

-Ah yes my wife.

-I’m a freaking simp for her.

-Crack heads.

-Periodt.

-She loves your soft girly aesthetic and even tries to copy your style so you could be matching girlfriends.

-The pink becomes too much though so she settles for different colors.

-You propose white and pale green.

-She takes your advice and goes out the very same day for shopping.

-Dragging you, Jirou, Sero and Denki along.

-Your friend group is fed up with how clingy she could be.

-Like legit she will hang from your arm constantly and will whine if you have to leave her behind because reasons.

-Bakugou is this close ( -><-) to blasting her into the next dimension.

-She is a scaredy cat and jumps at the smallest sound.

-You take that in your advantage and take up the rule as the knight in shining armor.

-Movie nights are usually horror nights for the two of you and you always puff up your chest in an attempt to appear tough.

-The pink accessories kinda ruin it though.

-She finds it funny how you talk about beating someone’s ass while you are wearing a unicorn onesie.

-She has a matching one though so sh isn’t one to talk.

-Just like Momo she is scarred of your berserk mode.

-Not scarred for her life but for the rest of the class.

-And god forbid Mineta says something about her.

-She can see the raging flames growing around you as he continues to go on about how hot it must be to be sandwiched between you two.

-She has to hold you back from bashing his face in.

-Although if he pushes it too much she lets you go and mayhem ensues.

-She really enjoys your cooking.

-Always present when you are baking for two reasons.

- A) to eat some of the batter because its delicious.

- B) to tease you and make a mess.

-She tried cooking along side you once but it was a disaster.

-Her excuse was that you were too pretty so you distracted her.

-She used salt instead of sugar.

- “They’re both white baby!!”

- “So is cocaine you dummy.”

- “We have cocaine?”

-Face palm.

-She won’t leave your room if you begin to cuddle.

-Begin is a strong word considering she won’t allow you to let her go.

-So continue suits this situation more.

-She doesn’t care how you two cuddle as long as she has you in her arms or vice versa.

-Wrapping her arms around your waist while you study, placing you in her lap while she games with Sero, laying you on top of her so you can fall asleep after a long day or simply holding your hand.

-She just wants to feel close to you.

-The closer the better.

-Says I love you at least three times a day.

-I want my Mina!!!!

Jirou Kyouka

-Music girlfriends.

-She has a whole song dedicated to you.

-She even sang it during the UA festival.

-You are really into lofi music and really soft, fluffy songs so she makes you a playlist with her favorite lofi songs.

-She loves when you hum along with her.

-She knows you have a good voice but since you don’t feel comfortable singing she doesn’t push it.

-Stands there and sways along with the rhythm.

-Swears that when you do sing you become an angel on earth.

-Blinding brightness.

-Finds it funny how your aesthetics collide.

-There you are the softy pink fairy full of flowers and sunshine.

-And next to you stands Jirou, her dark clothes making a big contrast to your baby pink skirt.

-You adore the difference and make it your mission to dress as brightly as possible making the difference stand out even more.

-You make her bentos like daily.

-Really appreciates it.

-She doesn’t have to wait for lunch.

-Plus your cooking is wow.

-She doesn’t really like shopping but will come with you if you want her to.

-Any time spent with you is enough for her.

-She spends most of her time at the guitar store lol.

-You bought her a new guitar for her birthday and you made her cry.

-It had her initials on it too.

-You walk to class together every morning and go back to the dorms holding hands.

-Says a sweet little I love you when you part ways for your training.

-Scared for her life when you get mad.

-That sinister smile that spreads across your face when you hear Mineta say something about her boobs is the scariest sight in the whole world.

-Screw Shigaraki.

-You can be the new master of evil with that smile.

-You are not violent though so she doesn’t have to hold you back... physically.

-Your words can be true venom.

-She has to clam you down before you make Mineta cry.

-Could kill for your cuddles.

-Doesn’t like to admit it but she really loves being the little spoon and would just nudge you without speaking.

-You of course get the message and hug your girl.

-She is surprised by how strong you are.

-You can lift her while she clinges to your front or back like she weighs nothing.

-Walks around with Jirou wrapped around your torso like a koala.

-She loves it, you love it everyone else finds it kinda weird when they spot you but who cares?

-Spends the night in your dorm regularly.

-She doesn’t even ask she just falls asleep in your bed, taking all the space and making you squeeze between the wall and her.

-Lovely little sweethearts.

Uraraka Ochako

-Um you are being soft together.

-Soft girlfriends™.

-You share clothes all the time since your aesthetics kinda match.

-You two can be demons if provoked.

-A third party has to intervene if someone insults you and you go into protective mode.

-You both get that dark look in your eyes as you stare down at Mineta.

-Really she’ll just through him up into the sky and you’ll use your quirk to send him to America.

-Deku and Iida protect the class from you.

-In general though, when you aren’t being feral beasts sworn to protect the innocent, you are two little angels.

-Your soft aesthetic completes her perfectly and your caring nature goes hand in hand with her mom-friend tendencies.

-Caring girlfriends.

-You babysit Deku together and take care of him when he starts breaking...everything.

-She really likes training with you.

-She finds it fun and oh so attractive when you are coming at her.

-May have a small kink right there.

-Power play maybe......

-Cooking.Dates!!!!!

-She likes to cook so when she found out that you are amazing in the kitchen she was hooked.

-You might spend hours and hours just baking sweets and then passing them around the dorms.

-Like Momo she only stays the night if you ask her or mention having a sleepover.

-Otherwise she will gather her stuff and go back to her room.

-Cuddles cuddles cuddles.

-You are obsessed.

-She is so soft to the touch and you fall asleep instantly.

-She loves it when you fall asleep on her.

-You’re like her wittle baby.

-Holding hands is a must wherever you are.

-Walking to class? linked pinkies.

-Out on a date? Intertwined fingers.

-Hanging out in the common room watching a movie with the rest of the class? Linked elbows.

-Chilling in your dorm? An arm around her shoulder.

-Really touchy in general.

-Not too touchy though because she respects the others around you.

-Plus you are friends with Iida.

-He will push you apart if he sees you remotely kissing her cheek.

-Class 1-A’s favorite couple.

-So freaking cute omggggg.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez

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ryqoshay · 2 years

Text

Tri-Arame: Braiding Away

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~2k Rating: G Fandom: Love Live Nijigasaki Time Frame: The evening after the stinger at the end of Episode 5, Season 2 Event: Femslash Friday Event Source: @femslash-friday-prompts Prompt: Braid ***SPOILERS*** for Episode 5, Season 2

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Author’s Note: My first foray into a wonderful new source of writing prompts. I would like to make a habit of writing something for most, if not all prompts for this from here on out. And there is an archive with a couple dozen that I’ve missed that I may peruse at my leisure.

Also, for those unfamiliar with my writing style, I tend to flip back and forth between using Nana and Setsuna, not just between scenes, but in the middle of them as well, depending on when she changes.

Summary: Nana realizes she forgot something and ponders how it happened

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Ah, it’s good to be home. Nana thought to herself as she removed her shoes before heading toward her room. It had been a long, but productive day for both Nana and Setsuna.

The student council was ramping up its preparations for the upcoming combined events of the second School Idol Festival and the Cultural Festival, which had Nana running around to check on various individuals or having them come to her. She had also spent several cumulative hours on the phone when in-person meetings were not possible for whatever reason.

All the while, the School Idol Club was also getting busier. And now, in addition to more intense training for the Festival, Setsuna was setting aside time to rehearse a mini play with Ayumu and Shizuku.

At least no important tests were coming up soon. Still, Nana knew she needed to get some studying in tonight. And maybe reread a few chapters of one of her favorite novels, since the next book in the series was slated for release later in the week.

Nana paused as something in her mirror caught her eye.

Wait…

Oh no…

Slowly, she reached up to confirm, as though perhaps her eyes were deceiving her. Unfortunately, her fingers confirmed the truth.

Setsuna’s gold triangle clip was still in Nana’s hair.

How had she been so careless? Had she really been so busy as to overlook such an important detail? Or was she simply that much out of practice?

Ayumu…

No.

No. No. No. She was not going to blame Ayumu for this.

Nana had been enjoying the recently developed habit of letting one of her closest friends help her change back and forth between her identities. But obviously, she had become a bit dependent on it, such that when she needed to do so herself, she was now prone to being sloppy.

Memories filled Nana’s mind as she thought about some of the key events that lead to this potential disaster.

---------

Setsuna couldn’t stop smiling if she wanted to. She loved a good morning practice session as not only was it related to the school idol activities she adored, it also helped rev her up for the day. But now it was time to get ready for class, to which she also looked forward.

Even though the first School Idol Festival was over, there was no reason to let up. No other Live events were currently planned, but the Club, or any of its members, could decide to set up something at any point. As such, it was best to keep a steady routine of practice. And of course, Setusna did love practice for its own sake, so there was that as well.

With her school uniform donned, it was time for her hair.

“Would you like help with that, Setsuna-chan?” a voice asked from nearby.

The offer was followed immediately by a snicker from someone else.

Setsuna turned to find a gently smiling Ayumu and a smugly grinning Yuu. “You want to braid my hair for me, Ayumu-san?” She asked, despite being pretty sure that had been the offer.

“Yes, if you don’t mind.” Ayumu confirmed.

Mind? Of course, she didn’t mind. Over the last few months, Setsuna had come to love when Ayumu worked with her hair. But she had never considered asking her to do something as simple as help her with the loose braids she used when in Nana mode.

Suddenly, Ayumu lurched forward. “Y-Yuu-chan?” She questioned having apparently been pushed.

Yuu laughed. “Oh, just go do it already. We all know you want to. And Setsuna-chan loves when you work with her hair, just like I do. And I love watching the transformations between Setsuna and Nana.”

“Thank you, Ayumu-san.” Setsuna said as the redhead stepped behind her.

“Mm.” Ayumu replied happily as her deft fingers began their work.

Unsurprisingly, Ayumu was faster than Setsuna herself in creating the braids. Although, despite the significantly shorter session, compared to when Ayumu would dry and brush her hair after bathing during a sleepover, it was nonetheless quite enjoyable.

“There we go.” Ayumu said upon completion. “Shall we head to class, Nana-chan?”

“Mm.” Nana nodded in agreement before putting on her glasses.

---------

Setsuna finished securing her ribbon before glancing over to see Ayumu doing the same. The other girl looked up and smiled when their eyes met. It was that time again.

In just a few short days, it had become somewhat of a tradition that if Ayumu was present when Setsuna needed to transform back into Nana, Ayumu would be the one to braid her hair. And occasionally Ayumu would even help with Nana transforming to Setsuna, though not all of the time; sometimes Setsuna felt like doing that transformation a bit more dramatically.

“Ne, Ayumu.” Yuu suddenly spoke up. “We have a bit of extra time this morning. Think you could teach me to braid Nana-chan’s hair?”

“Eh?” Ayumu blinked. “Uhm, sure, if Se… Nana-chan is fine with it.” She seemed momentarily confused with Yuu’s name choice as Setsuna was still Setsuna, for the moment.

“It’s fine.” Setsuna assured, finding herself curious as to how it might feel to have Yuu work with her hair instead.

“Yay!” Yuu cheered before bouncing behind Setsuna.

“Alright, first you divide her hair like this.” Ayumu started.

Two hands, guided by two others, began the braiding process. It was unquestionably slower than when either Ayumu or Setsuna performed the process. However, Yuu’s fingers, made dexterous by all of the piano practice she had been performing over the last few months, adapted quickly to the new skill being learned. And it didn’t take long for Setsuna to realize she quite enjoyed Yuu’s handiwork as well.

“And there you go.” Ayumu said after a couple minutes. “Good work, Yuu-chan.”

“Thanks, Ayumu.” Yuu replied. “I know I’m still nowhere near as good as Ayumu with such things, but maybe I can still learn enough to help you all prep for Lives and such.”

“Well, if you want to practice more, I do change a lot.” Nana offered.

“Thanks, Nana-chan.” Yuu acknowledged. “I may take you up on that. But not too much, as I wouldn’t want to take too much away from one of Ayumu’s favorite pastimes.” She winked at her childhood friend beside her.

“Y-Yuu-chan…” Ayumu protested mildly, earning a laugh from the twintailed girl.

And with that, the tradition had been augmented. Yuu would occasionally step in for practice or would make the offer if Ayumu was elsewise unavailable. And with how much time she spent with the two in general, Setsuna found herself rarely braiding her own hair to transform into Nana. It became almost entirely limited to her morning preparations at home. Not that she minded in the slightest.

---------

Setsuna’s phone vibrated on the kotatsu, so she reached over to pick it up. Noticing the caller, she quickly retrieved and donned her glasses before answering. She was also grateful that Yuu tapped a key on Ayumu’s laptop to pause the music that had been playing.

“Yes, Nakagawa speaking.” She said. “Yes. … Yes. … I see. One moment.”

Setsuna muted her side of the call. She then slid her glasses down her nose so she could open her eyes and not have the double correction of both them and her contacts affect her vision.

“Ayumu-san, Yuu-san.” she addressed the other occupants of the kotatsu. “This call may take a while. Is there somewhere else I may go so as not to disturb you?”

The three girls were once again gathered in Ayumu’s room for a study session, as they did at least once a week as of late. And sometimes, like tonight, they gathered on the weekend as well. That meant they could spend that much more time studying, without Setsuna needing to keep track of time so she could catch a train back home as she would be spending the night here. Plus, there was the added bonus that they would reward themselves for their hard work by gathering around Ayumu’s laptop to watch anime.

But Shioriko had just requested a conference call with Nana, the student council vice president and whoever else from the council could join. Apparently, some new challenge to the preparations had arisen and needed to be addressed as soon as possible.

Ayumu smiled and shook her head. “You’re fine, Setsuna-chan.”

“Yeah, it’s probably time for a break anyway.” Yuu said, leaning back to stretch. “Say, you guys want a snack or something?” She pushed herself out from under the table.

“Mama made a fresh batch of cookies for us to eat tonight.” Ayumu pointed out.

“Hee… I know.” Yuu grinned. “That’s what I was gonna get. And I’ll grab some juice or something as well while I’m at it.” And with that she left the room.

“Are you sure you’re fine with me staying here?” Setsuna asked again.

“Mhm.” Ayumu nodded, also pushing herself out from under the kotatsu before crawling over behind Setsuna.

“Ayumu-san?”

“You said the call may take a while.” Ayumu said, running a hand through Setsuna’s hair. “So, let’s get you as fully into Nana as possible.”

“Oh… alright. Thank you, Ayumu-san.” Setsuna agreed before pushing back up her glasses and closing her eyes. She then unmuted her call to reply to something the vice president had asked.

---------

So, that is what had done her in. Nana sighed in realization as she removed the clip and undid her braids so as to resecure her hair in the loose twin-tails she wore in the evening.

It hadn’t been Ayumu or Yuu’s kindness in offering their aid over the last couple months. Rather, it had been her own complacency as she focused too much on enjoying the kindness instead of remembering to stay sharp when swapping between and maintaining her identities.

This afternoon, Ayumu had to run an errand for her parents before going home and had left practice early. Also, Yuu had been unable to attend idol practice as she was busy with something for her music course. Thus, Setsuna had been left to her own devices to ensure she changed back to Nana before leaving the clubroom and heading to the student council room. And she had failed to do so properly.

On the plus side, it had been quite late, so the school had been mostly empty. But that was still part of the problem, it hadn’t been completely empty. There had still been potential witnesses to Nana’s errant display. She scoured her mind to form a list.

There had been Junko Ouchi, a second year in the information course who she passed on the stairs, though Nana didn’t think she noticed anything. Nori Yamane, a first year in the general course was running in the halls, so Nana stopped her, though she seemed too distracted to have noticed. And then there was…

Mifune Shioriko…

Shioriko had a discerning eye for detail. And she had been on the right side to have ample opportunity to notice the clip. And worse, she was familiar with both Nana and Setsuna.

Would Shioriko say anything if she had noticed?

Was it alright if one more person knew her secret?

Should she talk to Shioriko about the incident? Try to get ahead of any possible scandal?

But what if she hadn’t actually noticed? Should she risk mentioning it at all?

“Nana!” Her mother’s voice dragged Nana back to reality. “We’re home.”

“Welcome back.” Nana responded, heading toward the entry of the apartment. “Something smells good.” She commented upon arriving.

“We picked up some of your favorite on our way home tonight.” Mrs. Nakagawa said, motioning to the takeout bag in her husband’s hand. “Have you eaten yet?”

Nana shook her head. “I just got back myself.”

“The student council really has been keeping you busy these days, hasn’t it.” A statement more than a question.

“Mm.” Nana nodded.

“But your father and I know the student body is in good hands with our daughter in charge.”

Nana smiled at the compliment.

“Would you mind bringing the food to the table while your father and I get ready?”

“Of course.” Nana took the bag from her father and headed to the dining room.

It wasn’t the most common of occurrences that all three of them were able to share a meal together, so Nana thoughts now turned to a nice evening with her parents.

---------

Author’s Note Continued: First off, I’ve no idea if this will conflict with the events of Episode 6, as it has not aired yet as of originally posting this. As such, at least over on AO3, I will be sorting it into a new Event collection for Femslash Friday and will wait to see what Episode 6 reveals, or doesn’t reveal for that matter, before integrating it into TA proper. How I handle possible discrepancies here on Tumblr, I guess I’ll figure that out later, if I need to.

Next, the names Setsuna lists of girls she encountered in the halls of the school are not actual characters in the Love Live franchise, at least not as far as my knowledge is concerned. I just grabbed them from an online random name generator set to Japanese.

Third, yeah, this is yet another chapter about Ayumu working with Setsuna’s hair, but what can I say? I love the concept. And I really like the idea of Ayumu starting to help Setsuna swap back and forth with Nana.

As for Yuu, I’ve been looking for an excuse to write about her learning about styling hair. And what better way than for her to start with someone to whom she is close, like Setsuna? I will probably explore this idea further in future chapters.

And finally, I doubt I will ever cease being amused by Setsuna putting on her glasses, presumably while still wearing her contacts, just for the sake of answering the phone as Nana. And I will almost certainly well end up bringing that aspect of her over to my other fics as well. Ar at least MA, as I’m still figuring out how she feels about Nana in PoH.

#YuuAyuSetsu #Takasaki Yuu #Yuki Setsuna #Uehara Ayumu #Femslash Friday #Tri-Arame #Love Live Nijigasaki #fanfic

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thegreymoon · 3 years

Text

Word of Honor

Moving on with Word of Honor! I must get at least a few more episodes under my belt ASAP, just in case a miracle happens and HYX gets released soon! I just know Ranwan in any form is going to derail my life and WoH is still super new to me. I need the hooks to go in deeper and I need them to go in quickly, so that I don’t end up getting distracted and dropping it for months 😫

***

Do we have just an instrumental version of the intro, without the vocals? 🤔

***

LMAO, poor ZZS, his disguise is not working at all 😂😂

He was doing so well, and then he had to run into this gremlin 😂😂

***

LMAOOOO, he doesn’t miss a beat! 😂😂

I don’t even disagree with him, and I can’t possibly be the only one who finds ZZH’s hobo outfit hot 🔥🔥 Maybe just wash him first 😋

***

Wen Kexing and Gu Xiang are peak comedy 😂😂

***

So beautiful 💚

***

The thing I love about wuxia is that just about anything can be a lethal weapon. A musical instrument. A straw hat. A fan. Here we have paper cutouts that they literally wielded to kill.

***

Well, shit.

WKX is behind this, isn’t he.

***

Fate 😂

Sure! I guess that’s what we’re calling blatant stalking now!

***

LMAO, he’s not getting on your boat 😂

He’s so clearly unhinged but I love how shameless and persistent he is!

***

LOL, what is it with him and shoulder blades?

And how can he even tell when people around him don’t exactly wear revealing clothes? Collarbones would have made more sense, no?

***

LMAO, of course 😂😂

I mean, I should definitely be more disturbed by Chengling’s dead family but I just can’t stop laughing at this gremlin.

***

I am crying 😂😂

***

Well, you’re certainly suspicious 🤔

***

LMAO, “as if” 😂😂

She’s such a troll! I love her 😂😂 Poor Chengling, though 😕

***

I am struggling to keep track of these sects and who is fighting against who.

***

Interesting 🤔🤔

I think I’d better at least attempt to learn all the characters before trying to guess where this plot is going 😂😂

***

“You’re really good at confusing right and wrong. Being a beggar is wasting your talent. Why don’t you become a lawyer?”

I can’t stop laughing 😂😂 I love him so much!

***

LMAO, I’m glad you’re enjoying the show, you disaster 😂😂

***

LMAO, really? 🤣🤣

***

OMG 💀💀💀

He’s so obnoxious, I am dying 😂😂

***

The way he’s just sitting there, chilling, and then ZZS spits up blood and he goes into murder mode in an instant 💀💀

***

Jesus Chirst, he’s legitimately terrifying 😶

Also, wow, he’s BIG.

***

Like, legitimately chilling 😶

Scram. I would definitely scram 😬

***

LMAO, did killing a couple of dozen people inconvenience you?

He looks so offended 😂😂 The dead people got blood on his hands in the process of dying, how dare!!

***

LMAO, he did! 😂

“I’m so hospitable. Wouldn’t it be impolite if I don’t do what they want?”

I am on the floor 🤣🤣

***

“Philanthropist Wen” 😂😂

I CANNOT

***

Brb, I need to go rewatch this! IT WAS SO GOOD!!! 🔥🔥🔥

***

Pervert alert, WTF 😖

***

Ah, so Wen Kexing is one of the ghost people after all?

***

LMAO, foiled again! 😂😂

Listen, WKX, if the promise of alcohol does not lure him onto your boat, nothing will! 😂😂

***

I am almost ashamed how wasted WKX’s constant poetry is on me 😅 I’m not friendly with poetry in general, let alone Chinese poetry! Oops. Anyway, I am sure it is full of innuendo that is going right over my head 😢

***

Whenever these creepy, weird-ass assassins show up, I always think Wen Kexing sent them, LOL.

He inspires zero confidence 😂😂

***

Okay, so how did she not get herself censored??

***

WAIT, IS HE SAYING HE STEWED AND ATE HER DOG BECAUSE SHE COULDN’T TAKE CARE OF IT?

AND THAT HE HAS THE SAME ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE WOMEN SHE SAVED??

***

Oh, yes. Sure.

You want to be ~friends~ 😏😏

***

LOL, are you falling in love yet, A-Xu? 😋

***

VICTORY!! 🎊🎊

ZZS is letting him sit next to him on the log 😆😆

***

LMAO, how do you say no to this puppy face? 🤣🤣

He’s just shameless!!

***

I have decided that these two parakeets are the villains.

***

Hmmmm... 🤔

He has a villain moustache. It does not inspire confidence!! 🤨🤨

#word of honor #woh spoilers #woh ep03 #woh ep04

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lovewillthaw-j · 4 years

Video

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(please unmute and watch till the end)

Focus on Frozen (1) score (1/?)

Sisters theme

I’m celebrating 1000 followers today! Thank you all my followers, it’s been 9 months and 3 days since I started this blog (kinda like a pregnancy LOL! and I...erm...gave birth to this post?! haha) and I’ve posted 615 original posts. For some weird reason I don’t appear on Tumblr’s top #frozen or #elsa blogs...I’ve given up on trying to fix that...thank you all still for following me. And a great big thanks to my close friends who reblog everything I post!! Really appreciate it!!

I’ve been listening to Frozen 1 soundtrack incessantly for the past few days and I might make some more posts focusing on the major themes.

This is not my first post on the F1 sisters theme. I made one here a while back aaaaand I’m pretty embarrassed to say that I missed out quite a few more instances of the theme! So this post supercedes that one.

AND - I want to credit @let-it-show for pointing out that F2 sisters theme contains 3 notes of F1 sisters theme!! How did I miss that!! Watch till the end of the video for that part!

1. Children snowplay scene

The first instance of this theme. The first 2 bars are the essential 4 notes of this theme. The theme is fun-filled and exuberant initially. After Anna’s accident it is emotional (poor Elsa...she didn’t mean for it to happen)

2. Confrontation before disaster

A slight variation on the third note. And the theme is so ominous and foreboding here, being played by very high violins.

3. Anna pursues Elsa

Again a slight variation here on the 4th note. Some might call it a stretch to consider this the Sisters theme. But anyway, I included it.

4. She’s a stinker!

Cute. I love the way Kbell says “Stinker”. (tho I know what you’re gonna say @99884321 the real pungent one is K =)

5. We need Elsa to bring back summer

So after carefully listening to the score and the movie, I realised that they cut this out of the final scene (but it’s in the CD). It would have played when Kristoff said those words. So cool of composer Christophe Beck to insert a tiny musical reference here! Although it was cut out eventually (maybe it interfered with the flow of the scene?). It’s very cutely played by the glockenspiel.

6. Reunion at the ice palace

Ah...one of my favourite tracks of F1 soundtrack. We Were So Close is so beautiful, a fitting musical backdrop to the ethereal beauty of the ice palace and the revealing of Elsa’s beautiful new form to Anna. And their first reunion.

7. The greatest sacrifice

Anna makes the greatest sacrifice T.T Ugh my heart...Kbell’s whimper just before she turns and runs just gets me everytime.

8. Elsa’s worst fear

This is another bit that is cut out of the final scene. I think Beck wrote this for Elsa’s sobbing and clinging on to frozen Anna, her worst fears coming true and having lost everyone dear to her (UGH MY HEART!!!! ELSAAA!!!) but directors made the right call to have it cut out (not that it’s bad or what) so that there is absolute silence in the movie theater except for Elsa’s desperate sobs. Slaying us all. But still, this little 12 seconds of strings is wonderfully written and terribly sad. T.T

9. Sisters reunited, forever!

Ohhh such joy in this hug!! HUGZ!!!!! Finally we hear the theme in a happy mode again!!

Frozen 2 sisters theme

Again, kudos to @let-it-show for pointing this out to me!! Although the chord structure is different, Beck definitely referenced the F1 sisters theme here with the unmistakable 1st note, then down 1 step to the 2nd note, and then down 5 notes to the 3rd note.

MASSIVE kudos to Christophe Beck!!!!!! Thank you for what you did with F1 and F2 scores!!!

#elsa and anna #sisters #frozen #disney frozen #frozen ost #christophe beck #frozen 2

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drivingsideways · 3 years

Note

hi, I've been going through your jtbc life tag, and seeing your commentary on how the writer lacked in some parts, how differently would you have written it had you helmed it?

How delightful. This no-name fic writer unencumbered by entertainment industry realpolitik would:

1. Write the elder Ye sibling as a woman. Why not? Are women not allowed grief and misdirected rage? Are they not allowed to shake the world? I submit that they are. I don't think there needs to be too much change to Ye Jin-woo's role/ characterization for this to work. The love story between the siblings remains absolutely the same.

2. HOWEVER. I would not go into a pointless red herring plot about possible murder. Ye Seon-woo and Ye Seol-hee find out about the funds misappropriation; unfortunately Director Lee passes away before he can take any action. With Deputy Director Kim in line for the job, and also their PRIME SUSPECT, ER star doctor Ye Seol-hee gets into battle mode.

3. Meanwhile! Sungkook stalwarts ( and People Who Have Had An Unspoken Thing Between Them for twenty odd years , two marriages, two divorces, and two kids betwixt them) Chiefs Joo and Oh are in the process of figuring out What To Do About the Problem of CEO Gu Seung-hyo. Chief Joo and CEO Gu clash very publicly, and Chief Joo's MORAL COMPASS and (unfortunate!) popularity with the staff make him a front runner for director's post because the Kim Tae-Sang subplot gets resolved a little faster. But! CEO Gu knows Chief Joo would be a total disaster and he thinks Chief Oh would be an acceptable compromise? So he's trying to figure out how to get an in with her, because they seem to be A Team, and she speaks her mind but doesn't do any real politicking; ffs, she hasn't even put her name on the list. How now?

4. Hello, junior NEUROSURGEON Lee No-eul of the sunny smiles and unfortunate taste in friends, but BETTER taste in mentors i.e Chief Oh's special fave. Lee No-eul is his in! She seems a sensible sort- they end up sitting having a meal together at the cafeteria when she walks up and introduces herself and they actually have a particularly good conversation about the govt’s latest regulations re: health insurance- and she adores her sunbae.

5. But how to? Enter Kang Kyung-ah, who LUCKILY has befriended Lee No-eul, VIA Ye Seon-woo, whose love for Lee No-eul could be seen from SPACE, Gu Seung-hyo thinks, but to which No-eul remains charmingly oblivious. But that's not *his * problem, he just needs No-eul to latch onto the idea that Chief Oh should be the next director.

Isn't it time this hospital put women in leadership roles, Kang Kyung-ah asks No-eul over coffee and chatter about kittens. CEO nim was honestly surprised not to see any names in senior management. Of course, the field at the moment was narrow, this was probably something they needed to work on, but Chief Oh has the chops, doesn't Dr.Lee think so? Dr. Lee does think so. Perhaps Dr. Lee should tell her sunbae that then, and y'know, drop the hint that CEO nim would be very happy to see her name on the list. (It would be great drama if this becomes a point of contention between Ye Seol-hee and Lee No-eul rather than you know Romantic Problems Caused By Best Friend Falling For Known Enemy)

5. Chief Oh knows she has the chops. But- there's Chief Joo to consider. She loves him, but god, the man needs to learn to work around things to move them forward, instead of being the tree that won't move. Plus it's a LOT OF WORK, and it's not like she's not already STRESSEDT. Alright, whatever, she's gonna do it.

6. Well, Chief Joo thinks it's a brilliant idea, and really wants her to win, but wait, WHAT, you don't think Gu Seung-hyo needs to be taken down entirely, he just needs to be kept in line? HE HAS SEDUCED YOU WITH HIS CHARM AND HIS PROMISE OF BETTER EQUIPMENT FOR NEUROSURGERY. ARE YOU GOING TO BE SELLING VITAMIN SUPPLEMENTS NOW, IS THAT WHERE THIS IS GOING? (How could you betray everything we've stood for all these years?? How can you betray everything we’ve been to each other all these years?)

7. I feel this would be a great time to bring things to boiling point with a nursing staff strike? Kim Eun-ha was a fave minor character that I would have liked to see more of, and I think her whole cause of better pay/ working conditions for nursing staff would be a great crisis point to really go all out with Our Golden Trio, as Seung-hyo, Chief Joo and Chief Oh take different positions on this, while the directorship remains in the air.

7. So, well, it's VERY difficult and there's PINING like crazy, but like, when push comes to shove, THEY ARE THERE FOR EACH OTHER OK? He votes for her of course (though he doesn't tell her that), and she brokers a decent compromise for the nursing staff AND gets him a budget for those rural clinics he’s been dreaming of, but oh no, can she ever forgive him for Things That Happened and Oh No Can He Ever Forgive Me For Crossing Sides etc. The Pining (TM) reaches such stratospheric levels that even Ye Seol-hee takes time off from fucking things up to notice. [”How Sungkook’s Hospital betrayed it’s staff by breaking the first ever strike” reads the top online story for a week ]

(What's going on with them, she asks her bestest friend Lee No-eul, who shrugs, philosophically, pats her hand and says, not something you'll understand, you have to know what Real Romance is for that. Hmmph, says Ye Seol-hee, and grumps for a week, but No-eul also notices that these days Seol-hee keeps running off to take calls in secret and it turns out that secret is firebrand reporter and giraffe Choi Seo-hyun? Oh! thinks Lee No-eul, that's adorable, and she tells Seon-woo , and they both look at each other and burst out laughing, and Seol-hee finds her life even more UNBEARABLE thanks for nothing)

7. The point is, Gu Seung-hyo thinks, the point is, Chief Joo and Director Oh are there for each other, their bond wasn't something that even his interference (for admittedly selfish reasons) had broken, and y'know what, he's not a kid, he's emotionally aware enough to admit that he'd really like something like that for himself. What would that even be like, he thinks, as he cuddles Nighty, to know that you weren't alone, and that someone would love you despite your fuck ups or for them, even? And FINE, he wasn't immune to the attraction of deeply moral men who worked 48 hrs straight and fell asleep in supply closets, and NEITHER was he unaware of the way he maybe sometimes found himself taking a little extra care of his appearance on the days he had a meeting with Director Oh, but none of this could be allowed to matter, the point is that they'd never see him as anything but an outsider, and anyway, the way things were going, he'd probably have no cause to see them every single day--

8. "Gosh, listen to this man making us reveal our age," Director Oh says at the farewell dinner they organize for him. It surprises him that it's dinner, that the restaurant is cosy, warm, instead of business-like. It doesn't surprise him in the least that the low, warm lighting accentuates the twinkle Chief Joo's dark eyes as he replies, or that it makes the red of Director Oh’s lipstick headier than the wine they’re drinking. It’s their favourite restaurant he finds out, a small joint that serves Ethiopian food, they’ve been coming here for twenty years, and everyone knows them and they know everyone, and oh, y’know, when he’s in town and not so busy, would he like to join them for their weekly dinners here?

9. But WHAT ABOUT THE ROMANCE you ask, every kdrama needs a romance, not just subtextual OT3! You’re absolutely right! Not to worry, Kang Kyung-ah is totally on the job! “How adorable is Ye Seon-woo!” she tells Lee No-eul on one of their many dates where they don’t discuss Gu Seung-hyo at ALL, “If I were ten years younger I’d totally hit that!” No-eul laughs, but is also a little embarassed, that’s like her best friend ok, and then Kyung-ah adds, “Not that he’s got eyes for anyone but you!” and No-eul goes, what? and Kyung-ah goes “what?” and then No-eul has a whole ten days (while the Ye siblings are on their seaside vacation) where she’s trying to figure out if a) it’s true and b) what she feels about it and c) then that gets VERY clarified when she finds out that Seon-woo MIGHT DIE and when they are back she’s like, listen up Seon-woo, if you have plans of dying without surgery, just gonna tell you that’s not on the cards, and Seon-woo is like, do you have an alternate plan? and Lee No-eul, neurosurgeon extraordinaire and a woman who knows what she wants, is like, you betcha, we gonna get married and have five kids, and Seon-woo is like *swallows *, “If you say so”, and she’s like “I do.”

FINI.

#jtbc life #anon you can see that nobody would ever pay me #why yes i do think jang yeo bin would be perfect for Ye Seol-hee

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

The Boy who Sings Next Door, Pt 1

Genre: just-out-of-college AU

Pairings: Pre-romantic/romantic Prinxiety, pre-romantic Logicality

Content: general anxiety/allusions to past panic attacks, (it’s Virgil, c’mon), food mentions, a lil yappy puppy, Hamilton songs (it’s Roman, c’mon), just the boys being super gay.

Word count: 2.6k

Comments: I’ve been in a bit of a funk (not the good kind of funk) recently, and this is the only thing I’ve been able to churn out during it. It will have a part two, don’t worry. Gotta get that good Prinxiety content.

Comments (the sequel): This took almost a week to write due to said funk, so I apologize for any inconsistency that appears. I have edited this as much as my brain let me, so it should be good.

Virgil hadn’t lived there for long. In fact, it was just nearing the one month anniversary of the day his two roommates and him had moved into the townhouse complex on the grungier side of town. They were still getting to know the house; the basement Virgil swore was haunted, the crudely attached cabinets that Patton very nearly pulled down every time the shorter man had to climb the counter to reach the top shelf, and especially the upstairs bathroom’s shower that would become scalding hot if someone flushed a toilet while it was running. Janus’ shriek was something Virgil wished he could have recorded on camera.

Meeting his new neighbours was still a fear he had to get over. Patton had already introduced himself to all of them (on the first day living there, with cookies, nonetheless), and was eagerly awaiting the day when Virgil would give the ‘okay’ to invite some of them over for dinner. He was especially excited about the man who lived to their left, a professor at the university across town that Patton claimed he had clicked with.

“A professor? How old is he?”

“He looked like he was our age!”

“A professor who’s twenty two?”

“Well… maybe he’s really smart! Or has a great skincare routine!”

Despite Patton’s obvious infatuations with the guy, Virgil was hesitant to meet him. He’d already had a less than promising accidental run in with the old man living on their right, incited by Janus parking in the wrong spot and poor Virgil being the one to open the door to the screaming neighbor. It had taken him twenty minutes to calm down from that panic attack. But after too many rounds of Patton’s puppy eyes, Virgil gave in.

“Only the one guy though, and I get to have a code word in case I need to leave.”

“Okay! What’s the code word?”

“I don’t know. You pick.”

“Tiddylicious?”

“SHUT THE HELL UP, JANUS!”

Surprisingly, Virgil didn’t have to use the code word (which was not tiddylicious). Logan was a pretty great guy, if slightly lacking in the ‘emoting’ department. Patton and him got on like fire in a library, and his roommates happy wiggles the whole night was probably what gave the anxious man the bravado to stick through it. Janus even had the decency to make some honest conversation, which was a first for him. Logan eventually mentioned the fact that he had a dog, and the conversation immediately derailed into Patton squealing over the pictures he showed him. They took this as the opportunity to sneak away from the two, giving them the space they obviously needed. Gross.

There was a line stretching across Logan’s backyard; a red cable that connected to his deck and reached to the fence on the opposite side. From this cord hung a pink leash, and to this pink leash, Logan attached his dog several times a day. Virgil didn’t know what the signal was for them, but every couple of hours, the sliding door would screech open and the dog would run to the gate closing off the porch, waiting impatiently until Logan clipped on the leash and let it run onto the lawn. The first time the small dog saw Virgil on his phone in the shade of his roof, it immediately took this as a grave act of terrorism and began to yap so loud that Virgil screamed. Logan quickly came back out, explaining that while his pup may have the intimidation factor of a stuffed animal, she thought all the grass of her yard and of the adjoining houses was hers to protect, even if the terrier was just about the size of a decent Thanksgiving turkey. A few head scratches later, and the two decently bonded, enough that she wouldn’t throw a hissy fit every time he sat on his porch.

That’s where he was now, half asleep in a lawn chair with one earbud in, when the tell tale squeak of Logan’s sliding door startled him from his rest. He reached up lazily and popped out his music, smiling slightly at the prospect of another conversation with Logan. Despite their age difference (it wasn’t all that much, but just enough that he got confused stares from the elder when he mentioned the prospect of ‘stealing someone’s kneecaps’), they were starting to become good friends. His hand froze, however, as he heard a voice that was very much not Logan’s coming from the man’s deck.

“Dear Alexander,

I am slow to anger,

But I, tow the line,

As I reckon with the offense of your,

Life on mine.”

And if Virgil said he didn’t immediately feel butterflies at the soft lilting of the deep voice, he would be lying. He shrunk back into his shirt, hoping the other wouldn’t glance over the short bush between them and see his blushing face. Even if he wasn’t infatuated with whoever was letting Logan’s dog out, it wasn’t like him to try and meet someone new.

The screen door shut with a loud whap and the dog pulled at the red cord as hard as she possibly could, trying to get free pets from Virgil. He obliged, but made sure to duck back to his side as soon as the door reopened.

“Raise a glass to freedom,

Something they can never take away,

No matter what they tell you.”

He lurched back into his own house at the sound of that gorgeous voice, slamming the sliding door and consequently scaring the hell out of Patton.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What’s gotten you in such a hullabaloo?” Patton squinted from his table of crafting supplies, where it looked like he was putting together more pages for his scrapbook.

“I’m gay.”

“Ah,” The older man scrunched his eyebrows together, setting down his glue stick, “For Logan…?”

“No! Logan’s yours, don’t worry,” he ignored Patton’s indignant spluttering and blushing, satisfied that he wasn’t the only disaster gay in the room now, “Someone else is at his house.”

“Someone cute?” He was suddenly very interested in his book, trying to hide his red cheeks.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you in gay mode?”

“His voice.”

“His voice?”

“Quit laughing at me!” Virgil snarled non aggressively, refusing to meet Patton’s bright eyes.

“I’m not, I swear!” Patton giggled nonetheless, “It’s cute! I’ll have to hear it for myself sometime.” Virgil huffed, despite his growing smile, and went to his room, too overwhelmed to wait outside for the voice again, no matter how much his heart wanted to.

A couple days later, Patton showed up in his open doorway (it was his attempt to be less antisocial, and it made his housemates happy) grinning like a child who’d just gotten a puppy.

“I just talked to Logan-”

“Oh?” Virgil smirked, closing his laptop in favor of tea.

“Oh, shush. He just said during the summer, he has these fancy shmancy teaching seminars every weekend just out of town.”

“So?”

“Sooo…” Patton wiggled a little, sticking his tongue between his teeth, “When he’s not home, his brother watches Gremmy!”

“Gremmy?”

“How do you not know the puppy’s name? And also, you’re focusing on the wrong part of the sentence! His brother is going to be there every weekend, all summer!”

Virgil tried to digest the butterflies that exploded in his gut, failing to hide his reappearing blush. “So? We don’t even know if he’s our age, or if he’s into guys.”

Patton dropped his gaze, sucking his lips into his mouth in a vain attempt to smother his smile.

“Patton?”

“He’s our age and he’s into guys,” He squeaked.

“You asked?!”

“It came up naturally!”

“How?!”

“Not important!” He was full on beaming now, hopping on his toes. “You should totally talk to him next weekend!”

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

The following Friday, Virgil found himself sitting on his deck under the roof, scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he happened to see a new car pull into Logan’s spot thirty minutes after the man left. Nothing like that at all. He sipped absentmindedly on the lemonade Patton had brought him with a cheeky look on his face, trying not to think about the fact that the angel voiced man was right next door. And his heart absolutely did not begin to pound when the tell tale screeching of the screen door sounded.

This time, music accompanied the man’s singing as he hooked the dog, Gremmy, onto her leash.

“Angelica,

Eliza,

And Peggy,

The Schuyler sisters,

Angelica (Peggy) Eliza (Work!)”

Even if Virgil had only heard his voice once, it seemed fitting that he was trying to sing every part, altering slightly to nail the voice changes of every character. He curled up a little more in his chair as the man followed Gremmy out onto the lawn, music still pumping from his phone.

“Daddy said to be home by sundown,

Daddy doesn’t need to know,

Daddy said not to go downtown,

Like I said, you’re free to go.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe, but that was the heat’s fault. It definitely wasn’t caused by the gorgeous man now dancing in small circles on the grass, dog jumping at his feet as he laughed along to the music. The sudden warmth in his face was caused by the sun, not the toned muscle of the man’s arms, or the way his much too loose muscle tee showed off his tan, or how his light brown hair flopped over his eyes when he bent down to pick up a stick from the ground. All while singing; just carelessly enjoying himself.

“Angelica, remind me what we’re looking for?

(She’s looking for me!)

Eliza, I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

Woah, woah, woah, woah, work!”

The harmonies were too much, his voice flawlessly adding a fourth harmony where there wasn’t in the song. Virgil jumped like a spooked cat, fleeing into the house and drawing the curtains shut hurriedly. He knew the other man had probably heard the door slam, but that wasn’t his main concern right now.

“Gay panic?”

Virgil spun around to see Janus, all too bemused, sipping Gatorade out of a wine glass. The man’s sense of class would not be affected by the time of day. “Gay panic,” He confirmed weakly, sliding down the wall, “He’s hot.”

“Let me see.”

“Janus, no, what are you doing?!”

The taller man pulled the curtain aside, humming under his breath. “Oh yeah, he is hot.”

“Jan, stop!” He hissed, trying to tug Janus’ arm down from the curtain without being seen.

“Oh, he’s waving at me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Can I wave back?”

“NO!”

Janus waved back, kicking Virgil lightly out of sight. “Let go of my sleeve, fucker.”

Virgil did, booking it upstairs as soon as Janus dropped the curtain. He flopped onto his bed with a groan that was almost loud enough to be a shriek, swearing to himself to not go outside for the rest of the weekend. And to kill Janus later. He did leave his window open though, but not because he wanted to keep hearing the snippets of song that floated up to his room every time the sliding glass next door opened. Not at all.

Virgil hated that he ended up counting down the days until Friday, and that he couldn’t tear himself away from the window until he arrived. Responding to his housemates giggles and stares with a quick flip of the bird, he took his usual spot on the deck. Because the weather was nice, and he needs a tan. No other reason. Not that he would say out loud, anyways.

He didn’t have to wait long until the door scratched open and a calm, almost haunting melody reached his ears. He’s singing along to a track again, mixing in harmonies that send shivers up Virgil’s spine.

“I saved every letter you wrote me,

From the moment I read them I knew you were mine,

You said you were mine,

I thought you were- Shit, Gremmy, no, get back here!”

Virgil jolted upright as twenty pounds of fluff landed in his chest, paws digging into his sternum. The dog looked up at him with, dare he say, smug eyes? He ran a hand through the fur on her back, holding her collar with one hand in case she decided to bolt again.

“I am so sorry! She wormed out of the gate before I got the leash on her!”

He looked up from the dog and holy hell oh my god he’s way hotter up close. Never before in his life had he wished for Patton’s bubbliness or Janus’ general aloofness, but now he would rather have any personality trait besides anxious because oh god the hottest guy he’d ever met is staring at him and he has no idea what to say.

“Well, good thing she likes me, or you’d be down a dog.” What the hell was that?

Surprisingly, the other man laughed, folding his arms across his chest. “What, you don’t think I’d be able to catch her?”

“In all honesty, probably not.”

“How dare you!” He gasped, holding a hand to his chest dramatically, “I’ll have you know Gremmy loves me!”

“I’m sure that’s why she booked it as soon as she had the chance.” He extended the dog almost comically, her too short legs waving frantically in his grip. The man took her with a murmur of thanks, giving her a stern look that made Virgil snicker. A part of him was slightly shocked that someone related to Logan could be so… relaxed. The older man seemed held together purely by stress and logic, never without a collared shirt and tie, and he would definitely never be seen in the plain white v-neck this guy was wearing really well.

“So, you’re Logan’s brother?” Where the hell was this courage coming from?!

“Yup. You know him?”

“About as well as I know any of my neighbors. So, barely. But he’s close with my roommate.”

The man’s expression turned to glee as he shifted the dog in his arms. She seemed unhappy being held when there were birds to be chased, but her struggle was lazy. “Patton, right? I’ve heard a lot about him.”

“Oh?”

He hummed happily, fiddling with Gremmy’s collar. “It’s about time Logan found someone who makes him happy. We never really understood each other when it comes to interacting with other people. He’s more secluded nerd, and I’m more…” He trailed off, waving his fingers under the dog cluelessly.

“More theatre nerd?” Virgil guessed, pleased with the way the man’s eyebrows flew up.

“How’d you guess that?”

“You’ve been singing a different Hamilton song every time you’ve taken the dog out.”

Instead of looking embarrassed or upset like Virgil would definitely be in his situation, he seemed to puff up more, almost delighted.

“Ah, I thought I had an audience! That was you?”

Virgil could feel his face turning beet red, much to his chagrin. This was it, this was the moment he died. Let the earth open up and swallow him whole, his little pride had been too wounded to continue. The man took his silence as answer enough, seemingly pleased with the reaction.

“I’m Roman,” The man grinned, holding out his hand. He took it hesitantly, the touch sending a shock up his spine that he was barely able to suppress.

“Virgil.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Virgil.”

He couldn’t help the authentic smile that tugged on his lips as they shook hands, Gremmy dangling from Roman’s other arm like a football.

“You too, Roman.”

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #hamilton #sanderssidesfanfiction

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