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leiakenobi · 3 years

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The Chick in Apt 56

Fandom: Ex Machina (2014) Pairing: Nathan Bateman/F!Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 1.9k Summary: After your next-door neighbor leaves you a note about how he heard you having sex, the two of you unintentionally begin a written back-and-forth. Warnings: Innuendo, but no sexual situations. A/N: So neighbor AU Nathan has actually existed for the better part of a year through this lil headcanon post, but now here he finally is in fic form! I didn’t end up following the original headcanons too closely, but they were still very much on my mind while I was writing.

Cross-posted to AO3 here! I think this fic is more readable over there, but the whole thing is in this post below the cut as well.

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[Yellow post-it note, affixed to door knocker] To the chick in apt 56— Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our walls are thin as shit. And as much as I love the sound of a girl getting railed, I get up at 5 A.M., so if you could schedule future booty calls for a more reasonable hour, that’d be great.

[Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Nathan— Sorry if it was difficult for you to listen to a woman actually experiencing some pleasure. I’ll be sure to cater to your busy schedule from now on. P.S. We’ve both been here for nearly two years. I know you know my name.

[Yellow post-it note, haphazardly slapped above doorknob] Funny. Just keep it down please.

[Pale blue post-it note, covering peep hole] Girl in 56— Were you louder on purpose??? If so, thanks for thinking of me while you were fucking, but the least you could do is scream my name next time. Helps me finish.

[Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Surely you’re too busy trying to get your beauty(?) sleep to jerk off to the sound of your neighbor fucking. How else would you get up in a timely manner to get to your early morning workout at Planet Fitness?

[Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door] As if I’d work out at Planet Fitness. (I know you said that because you knew it would annoy me. Which—fuck you.) P.S. I have a package scheduled to come tomorrow while I’ll be at a last-minute meeting across the city. Could you find time to sign for it in between your sexcapades?

[Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Fine.

[Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door of apartment 55] FedEx— Please get signature from woman in apt 56.

[Pink paper torn from memo pad, taped to package] You’re fully cat-sitting for me next time I go out of town.

[Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Someone’s a hypocrite. A shame you couldn’t make her finish. My parents are visiting over the weekend, so if you happen to get laid twice after such a long dry spell, could you do it somewhere else?

[Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door] She came just fine. Twice. And dry spell? At least I’ve never implied that was why I’d never heard anything from your apartment until a few months ago.

[Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] If you think those fake moans meant she came, you’re deluding yourself. And I’m sorry, I was trying to be generous. Figured a dry spell was the reason you got off so fast.

[Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Nathan— We were eating dinner.

[Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door] Why do you think I fucked her in the kitchen?

[Pale blue post-it note, stuck on door] Could you sign for another package on Thursday?

[Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] You ask like I’m not still traumatized by the experience of making small talk with my parents while we listened to you fuck some girl’s brains out. Besides, you weren’t exactly grateful last time.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Because you left thousands of dollars worth of tech in our hallway! Why did you think they required a signature?

[Pink paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] For the tenth time Nathan, if you didn’t want me to leave it in the hallway you should’ve said so.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on door of apartment 55] FedEx— Please get signature from woman in apt 56.

[Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Heads up that I’m having some friends over tomorrow night so it’ll be noisy. You’re welcome to come if you want, assuming it doesn’t interfere with your old man bedtime.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on gift-wrapped box] Fuck you for not telling me it was your birthday.

[Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] I told you you didn’t need to give me a gift! On a related note—a vibrator is not a good gift for someone you’re not fucking.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Just thought the buzz on yours is sounding weaker than it used to. Figured you could use a replacement.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Did you like it?

[Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] I don’t know what you’re talking about.

[Plain white 8.5- by 11-inch paper, typed, left on counter underneath a Tupperware of oatmeal cookies] Nathan: - Please feed one scoop of food once in the morning and once in the evening if possible (but one double scoop earlier in the day is fine if you wouldn’t be able to give him dinner until very late). - He loves pets while he eats. Not saying you have to give him pets, but he will look at you expectantly if you don’t. - I normally try to empty his litter every day, but if you could just do it once about halfway through my trip, that’d be fine. - If you can, some playtime or cuddles would be nice to make sure he doesn’t feel too lonely. His favorite toys are in a box next to the couch. He loves people and should recognize you by now, so he’ll probably jump right up to cuddle if you just sit down next to his favorite blanket. You’re welcome to stick around and read or watch TV for a bit while he sits with you. - Hope you like oatmeal cookies. I tried to go with something healthier so that you don’t feel a need to up your SoulCycle regimen. [Handwritten underneath] Thanks again for doing this. Stay out of my bedroom. [Handwritten underneath that] I don’t do SoulCycle and you know it.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on bedroom door] The contrarian in me nearly went in here out of spite.

[Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Thanks again for cat-sitting. The little asshole keeps looking at the door around dinnertime like you’re gonna come in to feed him. I’ll be home every night this week, just return my spare key whenever.

[Yellow post-it note, wrapped around key and slid under door] Your pussy has good taste. Thank you again for the cookies. I’m out every night but here’s the spare.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Sounded like a lousy fuck last night.

[Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Oh my god he was still here. No need to comment on the quality of my sex life, Bateman.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Hey, at least I didn’t imply that you were the problem.

[Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] When you actually make someone come, I’ll retract my statement.

[Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] A girl bailed on our dinner plans after I already started cooking. Help me eat some of it?

[Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] If this is how you ask all the girls into your apartment, it’s no wonder you can’t get a second date. I mean, that plus. You know. The other thing. The you’re bad in bed thing. I’m saying you’re bad in bed.

[Back of a receipt, left on night stand] That was a bad idea. I couldn’t find my bra, give it back when you have a chance?

[Pale green post-it note, stuck on plain brown box] Found it. When do I get my retraction?

[Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] What, you need it in writing too?

[Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] If there’s one thing I learned from my lawyer parents, it’s that I should get everything in writing.

[Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] Bad joke, sorry.

[Pale green paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] I’m used to it, you make a lot of bad jokes.

[Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] Will you stop avoiding me if I agree it was a bad idea?

[Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] That depends, do you actually agree it was a bad idea or do you just want me to stop avoiding you?

[Pale green post-it note, stuck on door] If it means that you’ll avoid me forever, it was a bad idea.

[Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Going on a weekend trip and my friend who was supposed to cat sit came down with the flu. Can you help out?

[Inscription on the front page of a copy of Much Ado About Nothing, left on counter] To the chick in apt 56— I was browsing your bookshelves while looking for something to read, and I noticed your copy of Much Ado looked pretty rough, so I picked up a new one for you. Same editor, since I know some people are picky about that sort of thing. I always went in more for the tragedies, but I think this one is growing on me.

[Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] You’re not Benedick.

[Yellow post-it note, wrapped around key and slid under door] Never said I was.

[Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] You doing alright? I haven’t heard you leave for three days.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck to empty Tupperware] Thanks for the soup. Were you lying about it being store-bought? I finally felt up to shopping today and couldn’t find anything like it anywhere. I’d pay honest to god money for you to make it again.

[Scan of soup recipe, slid under door] [Handwritten underneath] If I recall correctly, you’re a capable cook. I’ll warn you that it doesn’t taste as good when you’re not sick. It’s like magic.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Do you think I could get another cold if I asked enough strangers to sneeze and cough on me?

[Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Don’t you dare. You’re insufferable as it is but you turn into a big baby when you’re sick.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] I’m having some people over for my birthday on Saturday. (See how easy it is to mention that it’s your birthday?) Come, maybe?

[Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] I think I have time to make an appearance.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on door] Just postpone your date with my vibrator and come to the party.

[Yellow paper torn from memo pad, folded and taped to a Tupperware of oatmeal cookies] Nathan— That was a shit move on my part, I’m sorry. It was a fun night and I got carried away, but you were right to stop me. Thanks for being uncharacteristically nice about it. After the way I acted last time, I definitely deserved worse.

[Yellow post-it note, stuck on empty Tupperware] Just didn’t want you to regret anything.

[Yellow paper torn from memo pad, slid under door] Maybe I do, a little bit. What if I did? I think I might.

[Yellow paper torn from memo pad, left on pillow] You look cute when you let yourself sleep in. Since apparently my coffee isn’t good enough for you, I’m running to the place down the street. I’ll feed the little menace before I go so if he tries to get you out of bed, you can ignore him. xx

——

interested in my other fics or my taglist form? you can find them on my masterlist here

taglist: @abelslittlebunny, @aellynera, @alwritey-aphrodite, @amneris21, @anetteaneta, @bdavishiddlesbatch, @be-the-spark-flyboy, @brandyllyn, @clumsy-stormtrooper, @ew-erin, @foxilayde, @hayley-the-comet, @hyperfixatingmenever, @iflostreturntobudcooper, @jitterbugs927, @knivesareout, @leto-duke, @lostgirlheather, @louderrthanthunderr, @marvelousmermaid, @moonlightburned, @mstgsmy, @one-hell-of-a-disappointment, @poedameronloverx, @prettylilhalforc, @princessxkenobi, @pumpkin-stars, @rosiefridayrogersunday, @salome-c, @starryeyedstories, @sugarpunch-princess, @thedukeofcaladan, @whovianayesha, @yourbucky084

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman #nathan bateman fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #created #i'm worried this one won't end up in the tags because i use a ~naughty word~#but it's for a funny joke and i cannot let tumblr's tagging system ruin my artistic integrity

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juuten · 4 years

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'Till Cat Do Us Closer | Misumi Ikaruga

All I can say is this - triangles, cats, and more triangles for this boy please. 🔼

Out of all the things you find odd, it was Misumi quietly sitting beside you.

When he entered your apartment, Misumi always dragged you to the couch and started babbling about the triangles he found. You sometimes wanted him to wait because you were busy. However, his persistence made you end up sitting beside him. You scolded him once for that, but the pout on his face prevented you from attempting again. From that day on, you readied yourself on the couch and listened to his ‘adventures’. You were confident that up to this day, you could confidently list out his collection.

Going back, you glanced at him with a concerned look. Misumi didn’t even spare you nor his favorite cartoon a glance. He just twiddled his thumbs, his forehead having a crease due to his furrowed eyebrows.

You grabbed the remote and pressed its off button. Then you faced him, a frown plastered on your face. “Misumi, what’s wrong?”

Misumi fidgeted and then rapidly blinked at you. “Eh?”

“What’s bothering you?” He averted his eyes from you. You gently squeezed his shoulder in hopes to ease him a bit.

“You remember the cat twins, right?”

“I do!” You can never forget that memory. While both of you strolled around the streets, Misumi suddenly dragged you in an alleyway. You were about to pull him away, but then a pair of tabby cats peeked behind the trash bin. Once the cats saw him, they sprinted towards Misumi’s open arms. His eyes held so much gentleness as he caressed the felines’ ears, which he proudly told you were ‘two of his precious triangles.’

Returning to the present, you asked, “What about them?”

“I visited them before going here. But then Mister Cat told me that his twin was missing.” Then his voice cracked a bit. “I tried to find her, but...”

“Misumi…” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders with your hand rubbing circles on his back. Misumi buried his head on your shoulder, the grip of his arms on your waist tightening. Your heart wrenched at his saddened state. You wanted to help him and the cats in some way.

“Let’s search for her together,” you suggested. Then you rubbed the crease on his forehead with your thumb. “We’ll find her, alright?”

Misumi slowly detached himself from you and silently nodded, a small smile on his lips.

Your hand patted the couch until you felt the hard case of your phone. Then you looked at him with a focused gaze. Misumi, getting your signal, started telling you all the information that he still remembers. With the way Misumi wasn’t randomly pointing to a triangle at a corner of your house, you can’t help but get more worried. However, this worry made you all ears for him.

After a few moments, Misumi said, “I think that’s all.”

Before exiting the memo pad, you re-read some of your notes. Then you tapped on the map icon; countless lines and names of roads popped on your screen.

“Thanks to what you told me, I found two places that Miss Cat will most likely go to.” You zoomed in the specific spot.

“Misumi, you’ll go here.” You swiped your finger to the side until the map showed a green area. “And I’ll go here.”

Misumi tilted his head while pointing at the spot. “Why is it green?”

“Because this is a park.”

His lips formed an ‘o’, which made you giggle. You wanted to show him a lot more things to see that adorable reaction again, but with the situation at hand, you resumed explaining your plan.

“You know how to go to your spot?” Misumi nodded. Then he bolted up from his seat, his hand already reaching for the door.

“See you soon, (First Name)!” Without another word, he shut the door outside.

Wisps of your hair flowed to the side as the breeze passed, making you tuck the lost strands behind your ear. Then you breathed in. The tranquility made you want to sit under a large tree, catching the smiles of the group of friends who chatted away while they ate the food they set on the blanket. However, you have a mission to do.

The potential witnesses you first saw were four middle school kids surrounded by red hard-bound books and large maps spread before them. As you approached them, their chatters became louder, especially the blonde guy who pointed at different spots on the map.

The noise died down when the girl with a clipped ponytail noticed you. “Can we help you, miss?”

You nodded. ”You see, I’m on a search.”

“What are you searching for?” the petite girl with short hair asked. You could see the glint of concern in her eyes.

You opened the gallery in your phone and scrolled up. When you found the picture of the tabby cat, you showed them your screen. The four gathered around you to take a close look at the cat while listening to your explanation.

After what seemed to be a long analysis, the brown-haired boy frowned. “I didn’t see her around here. What about you, guys?”

When the others shook their heads, the boy turned to you and bowed his head. “We’re sorry, miss. Is there any other way to help you?”

You immediately shook your head. “No, it’s alright. I don’t want to disturb your study session.”

“Don't worry. We’re just planning for an ass- ow!” The blonde guy flinched as the short-haired girl suddenly kicked his side. What was he about to say? However, you brushed it off because the girl who kicked him has this murderous intent surrounding her. With that, you bowed and thanked them again before leaving.

All you did this afternoon morning was ask more people. You bit your lip as you realized a pattern has occurred - you showed them a picture of the cat, asked if they saw her, and they responded with a shake of their heads. Then you bowed and left.

A weak thud was made when you rested your head on the tree's trunk, a sigh escaping from your lips. Wondering about Misumi’s progress, you texted him. You thought it would take a while for him to reply, but after a minute, your phone buzzed. When you read the message, you frowned as Misumi, too, found no leads.

‘I suppose I’ll start searching instead of asking,’ you thought.

Standing up, you brushed off the grass stuck to your clothes. At the corner of your eye, you spotted a black-striped tail wagging behind the tree beside you.

You hastily hid behind that tree, shifting your body a bit to peek. You gasped as you saw the familiar tabby cat scratching the tree’s trunk. Without another thought, you lunged yourself at the cat.

The feline, noticing your figure was about to crush her, dashed away in shock. As a result, your face landed on the grass that scratched your face.

“Hey!” You wiped your face before sprinting towards the cat.

You didn’t notice you were so far from the park until you stopped, bending your knees and panting. Your sweat dripped on the grassy ground, and you quickly wiped yourself with your handkerchief. There was no noise of chattering nor the playful jokes of children – only the leaves rustling can be heard.

With your peripheral vision, you saw the tabby cat approaching you. She swished her tail side by side as if taunting you. With a curse, you quickly shoved your handkerchief in your pocket and sprinted towards her. But the mischievous cat scurried off again!

It was impossible to capture the cat with your stamina, but Misumi surely can. You quickly opened your GPS and pictured the location the app detected you were at. Once you pressed the ‘send’ button, you dashed on the direction the cat was going.

After what seemed like a 10-kilometer race, you knelt on the ground. Your clothes clung to you and the stench of sweat urged you to puke. But in a race, you cannot stop especially if there was an awaiting prize.

And that prize finally was within your reach.

The cat slowed to a stop as she curled herself on a blanket that was mysteriously there. It looked like you didn't need Misumi's stamina anymore. With a breathy laugh, you lunged at him, locking the feline in your arms. “Caught you, you naughty cat!”

She scratched the blanket beneath her. “Meow!”

“Ah, don’t do that!” You immediately sat up with her in your arms. Caressing the cat’s ears, you cooed at her. You sighed in relief when she started purring.

Then you regained your senses. A blanket in this green lush? And a triangle-patterned at that?

You looked around your surroundings. You noticed a picnic basket laid at a spot not far from you. However, that was not the thing that caught your eye the most. You gaped at Mr. Triangle who, with his white top hat, stood on top of the picnic basket. Beside him was Mrs. Triangle with a matching veil.

Your heart stung as you imagined Misumi using all this stuff with someone else. You needed clues as to who that person was.

You leaned forward and pulled the basket towards you. You were about to open the lid, but you yelped as the cat scratched your hand. With a glare aimed at the creature, you shoved your hand in your purse. Then you ripped the thin sheet stuck on the band-aid and put it on the wound that stopped the blood from dripping. You thought that only Misumi would benefit from you bringing bandages because of his triangle hunt. However, that might be not the case.

Then you sighed. Maybe the cat injured you because what you were about to do was wrong. Carrying the cat in your arms, you stood up. You were about to step out from the blanket, but a familiar voice called out to you.

The male gasped. “(First Name)…”

You averted your gaze from him. “I'm so-“

“I didn’t know Mister Cat’s twin would lead you here!”

Unconsciously, you plopped yourself back on the blanket. “I...What?”

Misumi jumped beside you, the impact caused the picnic basket and triangles to fall. You were about to scold him for being reckless, but he fixed the basket’s position and put the triangle couple on the side. Then he opened the lid that revealed numerous onigiris.

“Here!” Misumi offered one to you. You locked the cat in your lap so that you can accept it with your hands. Then you took a bite of the onigiri. A salty flavor exploded inside your mouth, but that was only it. Nevertheless, you happily munched the onigiri because you knew it was Misumi who made it.

Misumi noticed the band-aid on your hand. With a concerned tone, he asked, “You got hurt?”

“Yeah, Miss Cat scratched me”, you replied. Then you immediately added, “But it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

The male pouted and poked the cat’s forehead. “Don’t hurt (First Name) again, okay?” The cat just hissed.

After swallowing the last bit of the onigiri, you breathed in. Then you asked him, “Misumi... what about Miss Cat leading me here?”

Misumi bit on his onigiri before answering, “Summer troupe and the cats helped me set this up!”

You blinked at him. “Even the cats? But what for?”

Misumi didn't immediately reply. Instead, he let out an unsure hum. Your heart beat rapidly as he left your question hanging in the air, but you it abruptly stopped the moment he opened his lips.

“Kazu called it… a ‘confession’?” The word ‘confession’ echoed in your head. Misumi wanted to confess to you?

Before you realized it, tears spilled from your eyes, the droplets landing on your clothes. All along, you declared to yourself that you’ll only be his friend. Your romantic feelings weren’t Misumi’s priority, as proved by his triangles and acting. Also, your heart wouldn’t handle the rejection and the thought of your friendship turning awkward was unbearable. But all of these proved you wrong.

The male, seeing your state, quickly finished his onigiri before encasing you in his arms. Your whimpers became muffled as you buried your face on his jacket.

With a sad tone, Misumi said, “Summer Troupe told me that this will make you happy, but why are you crying?”

“Because you… confess...” the rest of your sentences drowned in your whimpers. With your tears and Misumi trying to console you, both of you didn’t notice the cat hopping on his lap, climbing up towards his head and settling herself on it.

Misumi was still clueless on what you were about to say, but he heard you say ‘confess’. An imaginary light bulb popped on top of his head. Kazunari told him that telling you his feelings was the best way to make you happy, so he didn’t hesitate. “(First Name), I like you!”

You tensed. Slowly, you looked up to see his eyes staring at you with such gentleness. You felt a touch of warmth seeping through your heart. It was so warm, as if a blanket was draped on your shoulders on a winter night.

Cozying up to him, you replied, "I like you too.”

Misumi grinned and embraced you tighter. Suddenly, he let out a gasp as the cat slapped her paws on his forehead. He detached himself from you, bringing down the cat in his arms.

You giggled. “You should go to Mister Cat first. I'll stay here.”

“Okay!” He was about to sprint off, but you grabbed the hem of his jacket. Misumi was about to ask you what’s wrong, however, he stumbled forward as you forcibly pulled his collar towards you. Misumi’s reflexes were something to be proud of, but when you gave him a sweet peck on his lips, he only stood still.

You could see a faint pink bloom on his cheeks. With a laugh, you said, “Misumi, you still need to bring Miss Cat home. We’ll continue when you return, ‘kay?”

When the cat meowed, Misumi regained his senses and nodded. “Yes! And Mister Cat's twin said ‘thank me!’”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile dwelled on your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks.”

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! game #a3! x reader #misumi ikaruga #misumi ikaruga x reader #a3! imagines #a3! scenarios #aimee writes

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

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Rainy Days

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fruits Basket

Characters: Tohru Honda, Kyo Sohma

The subtle hint of hibiscus hung in the air as Tohru scrubbed the dishware with the magenta floral-scented dish soap. Bubbles wafted in the air, their effervescent membranes sheening with curvy rainbows before bursting spontaneously. Tohru hummed a poppy tune under her breath as she finished the last of the dishes; she'd heard it on the radio at work yesterday, and it'd been stuck in her head ever since. As she placed the clean white plate in the drying rack, she swung her hips exaggeratedly and flapped her arms a little, splattering water droplets over the counter.

"There we go! All finished!" she chirped as she swept a dish towel over the counter to clean up the spilled water. She dried her damp hands before folding the cloth neatly and setting it beside the sink. Smiling proudly, she flicked her bangs from her face with one hand while gripping her hip with the other. "Dishes are all done, so now it's off to work!" she proclaimed in a sing-song tune. Just as she was about to head off to her bedroom to get ready, a splattering, splashing sound drifted into her ears. Blinking, she instinctively glanced at the window above the sink to find raindrops pounding against the glass.

"Oh? The rain started early," she frowned. The weather report had predicted that the storm wouldn't roll in until an hour after Tohru got to work, but meteorology wasn't exactly a perfect science. It wasn't like the atmosphere was exchanging memos with the meteorologists! It's not raining hard, so I should be able to suffice with just an umbrella! Tohru reasoned as she skipped out of the kitchen. Yuki and Shigure were watching the developing weather report with keen interest, while Kyo was slumped over the kotatsu table, barely awake and groaning petulantly. Tohru couldn't help but snicker; Kyo's cat-like habit of snoozing on rainy days was just too endearing.

"Miss Honda," Yuki quipped as she passed into the hallway joining the kitchen and living room, "are you sure you should go to work today? They're predicting that the storm will get quite bad." Tohru smiled sweetly in response to his concern.

"Oh, it's all right. I'm sure it'll blow over by the time I get off! Besides, it's too late to call out. I'll be all right!" she reassured him. Without pulling his gaze from the television screen, Shigure clicked his tongue.

"Our dear sweet Tohru, so hard-working and full of integrity," the older man sighed dramatically. Kyo whined under his breath at the wheedling in Shigure's voice and cracked an eye open to glare at him.

"Shaddup. God, why are you so irritating this early in the morning?"

"Stupid cat, it's already nine."

"I didn't ask you!" Kyo hissed at the silver-haired boy, invisible hackles bristling at Yuki's detested huff. Squinting angrily, Kyo slid off the table to flop onto his side and curl up on the floor. His eyes peered at Tohru through the bright orange hair that fell into his face. "Anyway, just don't come home cryin' that your rain boots are all full of water, ya hear?" Tohru giggled again and shook her head. His tone was as gruff as always, but she knew that behind the harsh words existed genuine worry.

"I'll be just fine!" she insisted before dashing off to her room. She grabbed her umbrella and her purse before running back down the hall, heading for the front door. "I'll see you all this evening! I'm making beef stew for dinner tonight!" Shigure cried out at her announcement, melodramatically holding the back of his hand to his forehead.

"Oh! Tohru, what would we do without you? Don't forget your raincoat!" Tohru paused at the front door to shuffle through her shoulder bag until she spied the edge of a rubber cloth in the depths. In the gloom of her purse, it looked like the pink-and-white fabric of her raincoat.

"I’ve got it! Bye now!" she called back before scampering out of the door. She unfolded her umbrella as she jumped off the porch, and the rubber sang as the cascading raindrops pounded against it. Tohru smiled pleasantly as she inhaled deep to drink in the aroma of disturbed earth and the slightly salty rain. I love rainy days! she thought. As she set a brisk pace down the path, she jumped through the puddles, splashing her boots with the muddy water. Her giggles joined in with the symphony of the raindrops, completing the aura of contentment.

The storm continued throughout Tohru’s workday, though she didn’t notice. Humming the same poppy tune, she proceeded through her list of tasks for the day- cleaning all the windows, sweeping and mopping, and taking out the trash. Time always flies when one is busy, so five p.m. came very quickly. Tohru stored her work cart and uniform and headed towards the front of the building after bidding her coworkers farewell. She swung her umbrella around her wrist contentedly as she strolled towards the front doors, a bounce in her step as visions of beef stew danced in her head. She screeched to a halt as soon as she walked into the lobby.

“Oh, dear,” Tohru blinked with a faltering smile. “It didn’t blow over…” In contrast, the rainstorm had worsened considerably. Rain slapped in sheets against the glass doors and windows, coating the pains in thick streams that blurred the image of the street into a watery mosaic. Thunder rolled endlessly in the gray heavens, and lightning streaked in jagged white snakes through the thick angry clouds. Their flashes illuminated the street like massive strobe lights to flood the streets and buildings with bright whiteness. Pouting, Tohru tapped her cheek with the pad of her index finger.

“I have to get home somehow,” she fretted as she pulled up the weather forecast on her cell phone. The thunderstorms were predicted to continue until well into the wee hours of the morning, so there was, unfortunately, no option for Tohru to simply ride it out. Sighing, she slipped her phone back into her bag and sulked at the dismal weather raging outside.

“O-kay!” she huffed after a few seconds of mental preparation, clenching her fists determinedly. “It’s just a little storm! I can walk home just fine! Come on, Tohru, time to put on your raincoat!” Trilling triumphantly, she fished into her back to pull out the waterproof garment. However, when she grabbed the rubbery material and yanked it out, she was dismayed to find that it was not her raincoat, but rather a little plastic coin purse she’d used her extra funds to purchase for Kisa. Right, she thought as she deflated with disappointment, I was going to surprise Kisa this weekend when she comes over…

“Well, there goes that idea,” she groaned and slipped the floral-patterned child’s purse back into her bag. Tohru critically inspected her umbrella. It would likely protect her from most of the rain, but with the gusting wind, she’d much rather have a raincoat to keep her clothes from becoming drenched. There’s nothing for it… she lamented with a small sigh. She’d wasted enough time already mulling around; she really ought to hurry home so she could get dinner started. As the automatic doors slid open to allow her exit, she opened up the umbrella, protecting herself as the gale blasted water towards her. A few stray raindrops splattered into her hair, threading the brown strands like dewdrops.

Tohru held the umbrella at an angle to protect herself from most of the slanted rainfall, but the calves of her skinny jeans were soon darkened to a deep indigo blue. Water began to slide down into her rainboots and dampen her socks, making her wriggle uncomfortably. She thought back to Kyo’s comment. Maybe I should have taken more effort to make sure I had my coat, she sighed forlornly.

Because she held the umbrella out in front of her, Tohru’s field of vision was limited; therefore, she didn’t realize that someone was in front of her until she bumped right into them.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” she squeaked and threw her umbrella up instinctively. She yelped when the wind exploded in her face, spraying her front with water. She blinked rapidly as the water dripped down her cheeks and chin. “Oh my.”

“Yeesh…” came the sarcastic groan from in front of her. Tohru recognized the voice immediately and glanced up to see Kyo’s scowling face. He had a white umbrella propped over his shoulder and was wearing a brown-and-white raincoat that made the orange hair peeking out from underneath the hood blaze all the brighter. “You’re hopeless. I came all this way to bring your raincoat to you, and you’ve already made it pointless.”

“I’m sorry,” she whined on reflex and looked morosely at her soaked clothes. Her cotton blouse clung to her body, crimping up in damp folds around her hips and beneath her bust. Kyo, a bit flustered at how openly the curved of her body were showing, blushed and pushed the raincoat into her chest.

“H-here! Just put it on already before it gets worse!” he grunted and grabbed her umbrella so he could hold it over her while she slipped into the protective gear. Tohru smiled sweetly at his kind gesture, beaming as she unfolded the coat and wiggled her arms through one of the sleeves.

“Thank you for bringing it all this way, Kyo! I know how much you hate rainy days.” Kyo responded with a small “tch” and looked off into the sodden distance as she slid her other arm through the coat.

“Yeah, yeah… I just happened to walk by your room and see it hanging on the bedpost. Jeez, you’re such an airhead. I thought you said it was in your purse?” Tohru laughed bashfully as she buttoned up the garment.

“I was mistaken…” After she took the umbrella back from him, he knocked on her forehead with the back of his hand. “Oh!” she squeaked and rubbed the small mark that bloomed on her skin as a result of his gesture. Kyo smiled softly down at her, making a warm and bubbly feeling blossom in her chest.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing you have me to keep an eye out for you, huh?” he chuckled endearingly. Tohru blinked, pink-cheeked, and then nodded with a big beaming smile.

“Uh-huh!” Her cheeriness, as always, flustered the emotionally constipated boy; his smile fell from his face, replaced by a bashful frown. Whining aloud, he whirled on his heel and rubbed the back of his neck underneath his hood.

“Gah… A-anyway, let’s stop standin’ around in the rain! I feel like I’m gonna pass out here,” he complained lousy. Giggling, Tohru grabbed the sleeve of his raincoat and tugged him forward as she took off down the sidewalk in a playful sprint. “H-hey!” he cried in alarm, not expecting her to jerk him forward. The water splashed up around her rainboots as she scampered on, calling for Kyo to hurry as she released his sleeve and wrapping both her hands around the handle of the umbrella. She could hear Kyo splashing behind her as he sprinted to catch up. Tohru turned the umbrella back as she glanced heavenward, not minding the raindrops that splashed down over her face and slicked her hair to her forehead.

I really do love rainy days! She glanced over her shoulder as Kyo caught up, panting and nudging her with his elbow in her sigh. She squirmed away from him with a giggle. Because rainy days just bring people together!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork

#kyoru #kyo x tohru #tohru x kyo #kyo sohma #sohma kyo #tohru honda #honda tohru #fruits basket #furuba #fruits basket 2019 #furuba 2019 #fruits basket fanfic #furuba fanfic #fruits basket fanfiction #furuba fanfiction #kyoru fanfic

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goforwardgreenwriter-blog · 6 years

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The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 49 - 50

Holy shit, another milestone. Feels like yesterday I started this review on a whim......

This chapter kicks off with Elide and Lorass on the boat. Elide is on her period, which I will give SJM props for mentioning since a lot of YA novels ignore periods. but given the last time we brought up periods was Lorass eyeing up Elide’s boobs..... I’m worried SJM is gonna somehow try to make periods sexy.

Elide said, “Fine.” Lorcan said, “Fine.”

If I have to read one more variation of this in this god forsaken novel I will scream.

“No, there’s nothing wrong,” [Elide] said. At least, she hoped. But Finnula, her nursemaid, had always clicked her tongue and said her cycles were spotty —too light and irregular. For this one to have come precisely a month later … She didn’t feel like wondering about it.

???? So like, if Elide’s periods have always been irregular and spotty, shouldn’t this be normal? Also, she was just in the forest practically starving and malnourished, it’s extremely common for someone’s periods to vanish in such a state because their body knows it can’t handle a pregnancy malnourished, so it’d make sense for her periods to be delayed for a while.

Lorass takes Elide to town so she can get new clothes and supplies, but his spidey senses go off and he knows something is coming for them. Oh no how will they ever escapehahahaha who am I kidding, I don’t care about these two.

Men stared at [Elide]—too eagerly—as she passed and strode down a narrow hall.

Can someone tell SJM making all men horny and predators is offensive and cliche at this point? Don’t think she got the memo.

Vernon. Sitting on the other side of the table, smiling at [Elide] like a cat. Strong hands tipped in claws clamped on her shoulders, nails cutting through her leathers. The ilken held her firmly as her uncle drawled, “What an adventure you’ve had, Elide.”

So yeah, the woman who gave Elide the clothes pointed her to a back room and Vernon traps her. The chapter ends right there, and... wow. We’re on chapter 50, y’all. I didn’t think I’d ever get here; to those who stuck with me since day 1, I appreciate it. Let’s press on.

“How did you find me?” Elide breathed, the reek of the ilken nearly enough to make her vomit.

We start right where we left off. Yeah, yeah, I know, but I don’t care enough to complain anymore.

Vernon calls her out for asking questions to buy time, but then immediately answers her question and taunts her about Manon’s supposed death. Calling out a cliche means nothing if you turn around and use it, SJM.

A sob broke from [Elide’s] throat. She’d die here—in this filthy courtyard, with these awful things around her. She’d never see the sun again, or laugh, or hear music—

Don’t worry Elide, all main characters in SJM’s series that can be used for porn have indestructible plot armor.

So Elide makes a mad dash for Vernon’s knife and intends to kill herself by stabbing herself in the torso. Lorass arrives in the nick of time and... throws his axe at her.

For the first time in five centuries, Lorcan knew true fear as Elide turned that knife on herself, the blade angled to plunge up and into her heart. He threw his hatchet.

Uhh, is he trying to cut her hands off or something? I won’t pretend to be a weapons expert, but I’m pretty sure chucking an axe at her is gonna cause nearly as much damage. This somehow works and gets the dagger out of Elide’s hands without harming her.

Elide and Lorass kill most of the ilkens and Vernon gets away, without Elide. Pretty badass for Elide, ngl.

Tears rolled down [Elide’s] face, silent and unending as the wrath that now sculpted her features into a thing of mighty and terrible beauty.

Gee, even during an action scene that is traumatizing one of her main characters, SJM can’t resist the urge to let us know her main characters are drop dead gorgeous.

Lorass carries her back to the boat and... they’re actually nice to each other for once? It’s a nice quiet moment to take a breather after the action, and Lorass admits he’s not good at comforting people but tries to comfort her. SJM finally learned what good pacing is.

Elide finally shows him the thing she’s been carrying, a dark silver stone, saying it is for Celery, not Alien. And we.... kinda get character development? Lorass and Elide really haven’t bonded since they’ve done nothing but bicker and yell at each other, but Lorass doesn’t steal the stone from her and offers to heal her.

Lorcan reached out, grasping [Elide’s] chin and forcing her to look at him. Hopeless, bleak eyes met his. He brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. “I made a promise to protect you. I will not break it, Elide.”

Human brain: don’t ship it, they have no connection

Monkey brain: hhh tear wiping.... pure...soft...

She didn’t know why she said it, why she felt a need or like it was worth anything to him at all, but Elide stood on her toes, kissed his stubble-rough cheek, and said, “I will always find you, too, Lorcan.”

I MEAN.... I don’t feel like they’ve earned this, but now that they’re comforting each other, I think SJM will actually let them bond now...? Maybe I’ll learn to ship it, or SJM will just ruin ti further. Place your bets now, folks.

Lorass cuts up his shirt to use as pads for Elide’s period, which is honestly really nice. Maybe I’m just feeling soft hearted today, but my disgust for Lorass and them as a pairing is lessening a bit. Maybe Lorass will be promoted back to Lorcan, we’ll have to see next time.

#the worm talks #the worm reads: eos #anti sjm #anti eos #anti tog

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terriblelifechoices · 6 years

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Tuesday comment fic! The fabulous MadImagination caught one of my nerdy easter eggs (that Matthew Bellamy of the Luminaria was inspired by Bellamy Blake, from the 100). They wanted to see future fic of Percival being a good dad who is still ridiculously in love with his husband.

The original thread can be found on AO3 here.

Graves Manor, April 1934

Credence woke up and found Percival’s side of the bed empty. He ran a hand across the mattress and found it cold. Percival had been up for awhile.

Yawning, he padded down the hall to the nursery. Percival was probably asleep in the rocking chair with Ellie, which he would probably regret tomorrow.

Elaine was asleep in her crib, as was Gawain. Percival was nowhere to be seen.

Puzzled, now, Credence went back out into the hall. There was a light on in one of the unused rooms in the family wing, past Galahad and Olwen’s rooms. They’d decided it would be Gawain’s, once he was big enough to leave the nursery. He wasn’t quite old enough yet, but Credence still felt a pang at the thought. His babies were growing up so fast.

“Percival?” Credence asked around a yawn. “What are you doing up? It’s three in the morning.”

“Merlin and Morgana!” Percival yelped, the pencil in his hand skittering wildly across the wall.

Credence blinked at him. He wasn’t awake enough for this.

“How much coffee have you had?” he asked, suspicious.

“Eh,” said Percival, clearly stalling for time. “A bit.” He glared at the line he’d accidentally drawn, then made it vanish with a careless flick of his fingers. “You startled me, love,” he said, tucking his pencil behind his ear and reaching for Credence.

He looked, Credence thought, like one of Queenie and Jacob’s artist friends. Percival was shirtless, as was his habit, his soft sleeping pants slung low on his hips. His hair stuck up in random tufts, free of its usual pomade until morning. Percival looked about as far from severe, serious Director Graves as it was possible to get.

He looked like Credence’s husband instead.

Credence loved Percival in the small hours of the night, and the evenings after work. The times just for him, or for the kids. No one else got to see Percival like this, all his hard edges tucked away.

“You should be sleeping,” Credence chided, leaning in to kiss him.

“So should you,” Percival countered.

“We could both go back to bed,” Credence suggested. He wrapped his arms around Percival’s neck, pressed close enough to Percival that there would be no doubt as to his intentions.

“Yes, dear,” Percival said, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Everyone said that Percival took after his father, just like everyone said that Galahad took after Percival. Dindrane, everyone agreed, was the one who took after their mother.

Having finally met the portrait of Geraint Graves, Credence could see why everyone thought so. Percival had Geraint’s devotion to MACUSA; to duty. He had Geraint’s unyielding sense of honor, his determination to stand between their people and anything or anyone who might mean them harm. Being an Auror was who Geraint and Percival were. It was in their blood.

Vivian’s influence was harder to spot, but it was still there. Percival had inherited her love of stories as well as her knack for telling them, and he’d gotten her artistic talents as well. Little sketches littered his notes to Credence, his letters to his niece and nephews at Ilvermorny, and occasionally even during the margins of his paperwork during especially boring meetings.

“It’s just marginalia,” Percival had said dismissively, the first time Credence asked about it. He’d found a sketch of himself on the back of a memo about properly filling out requisitions forms when Galahad was about six months old. He hadn’t realized that Percival could draw before that.

“It’s beautiful,” Credence had insisted. “You never told me you could draw.”

Percival had shoved the sketch in his desk. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, but the little sketches started cropping up after that.

“So,” Credence said, sprawled over Percival’s chest and listening to Percival’s heartbeat gradually return to normal. His own heartbeat and his breathing weren’t quite back to normal yet either, for all that he felt boneless with satiation.

“Mm?” Percival asked, toying with Credence’s hair.

“What did you decide on?” Credence asked.

Percival had painted both Galahad and Olwen’s rooms, once they were old enough to leave the nursery. Galahad’s room was decorated with different kinds of dragons, their anatomy drawn with painstaking correctness after months of correspondence with Newt. Olwen’s room was a forest, and every now and again a wampus cat would peek through the trees.

“Thunderbirds, I think,” Percival said.

Credence hummed thoughtfully. “We can go to Tucson and visit Frank,” he said. Percival could get all the thunderbird sketches he wanted, and Credence could visit Penelope Ramirez and stock up on more stories from Marco and Seraphina and Percival’s Ilvermorny years. He wanted to know what to expect when Galahad was old enough.

Hopefully Galahad’s time at Ilvermorny would involve less nudity than his father’s. Credence had several utterly mortifying stories stockpiled just to make sure Galahad was too embarrassed to even think of trying half of the ridiculous stunts Percival had pulled.

“It’ll be a nice family vacation,” agreed Percival. “I can get the sky painted before we go.”

Credence cuddled a bit more aggressively into Percival’s side, just in case Percival was thinking of getting up again. “Stay,” he mumbled. “It’s not the same without you.”

“Anything for you,” Percival said fondly, not making any effort to get out of bed at all. Credence fell asleep to the gentle sweep of Percival’s hand down his back, a subtle reminder that he was here and that Percival would always keep him safe.

He woke up that way the next morning, safe and protected and loved.

#my fic #comment fic #percival graves #credence graves #MadImagination #Possible 'verse

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phiralovesloki · 7 years

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Subtle and Nuanced

Summary: Killian Jones has an unusual relationship with a neighbor in which they exchange notes via cat. He’s also slowly falling for his flower shop’s newest customer. Surely these two things are unrelated. Rating: T Notes: Happy birthday, @thejollypirate! I’ve owed you this story for ages, so this seemed like the best time to finally get it to you! Welcome to adulthood, it’s the worst, I’m sorry. Thank you to @lifeinahole27 for reading it over!

AO3

This story contains pet illness (but no pet death).

As far as Killian was concerned, it was Liam’s fault. When the window had first gotten stuck, and Killian had mentioned he was going to phone the landlord, Liam had told him not to bother, that he would fix it himself. He was relatively handy, and it was always easier to do minor repairs and bill the landlord for materials than it was to call and wait and wait and wait for the man to send someone over. And so Killian had agreed, and waited for his brother to fix it.

But of course, Liam kept forgetting. After all, the window wasn’t in his bedroom, so it was easy to forget the damn thing wouldn’t shut. And when Killian would remind him, he’d either make an excuse about how late in the evening it was, or how busy he was, or make a comment like It’s July, Killian, it’s not as though it’s cold out, you’ll live another day.

And then of course, Liam’s boss had to back out of an extended, weeks-long business trip at the last minute, and the only person who could replace him was Liam. And after dropping him off at the airport, Killian returned to find a huge gash in the screen of his bedroom window. Now, not only did the damn thing not close, but now all manner of insects could get inside the room as well.

All manner of insects and, he discovered, the culprit.

The flat he and Liam shared was on the top floor of a three-storey building; each floor consisted of two flats, and all but the top floor had covered front and rear porches. His bedroom window, along with the kitchen windows, were over the roof of the second floor rear porch. It was high enough up that a burglar would have to be creative and athletic to break in, and so at first, he was confused as to who had cut the screen and then not stolen anything after going through the effort.

Until he woke up the next day to find a cat snuggled up against him in his bed.

According to the tag on the collar he wore, the cat’s name was Henry. But the tag was useless otherwise, lacking any information on the cat’s owner. And so he grabbed the cat, shoved it—gently—through the hole in the screen, and got ready for work.

When he returned home that evening, he found several items that had been pushed off of the counter in the kitchen, and those were definitely claw marks on Liam’s favorite armchair. Killian found Henry hiding quite happily in a cardboard box; back through the hole in the screen he went.

Henry didn’t get the message. He was back the next day, waking Killian up with a headbutt to the face, and welcoming him home later that day with a knocked-over rubbish bin.

The following day, Killian thought he might finally be free of his new, unwelcome visitor. He awoke in the morning in a blissfully cat-free bedroom, and returned home from the shop to find everything as he’d left it. He still resolved to call the landlord about fixing the window, but at least Henry had finally gotten the memo.

Except that he clearly hadn’t, as Killian nearly tripped on him on his way to the bathroom the following morning.

As Henry made himself at home in the messy sheets, Killian dug a pen and a pad of sticky notes out of the junk drawer in the kitchen, and scribbled down a note.

Your beloved cat seems to think he lives in my apartment. Please disabuse him of this notion. - KJ

Once he managed to wrangle the cat, he shoved the wadded up note under the collar and pushed Henry back out onto the roof.

The following morning, unfortunately, he woke up to the sensation of Henry trying to find a comfortable spot atop him, presumably directly atop his bladder. At first, he was dismayed to see the note still present under the collar; perhaps Henry was now a stray and far from home. But no, the color of the note was different. He fished it out, at which point Henry dashed off into the living room.

Sorry, I’ve been trying to keep him in our place, but my roommate keeps letting him out. I’ve talked to her a million times with no luck. - ES

Killian wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that, at the very least, he’d gotten in touch with Henry’s owner, or dismayed that alerting them to the issue hadn’t resolved it.

Please try harder, I’d rather not have to invest in a litter box. - KJ

The following day, Henry was gone, lulling Killian into a false sense of security, which was shattered the day after.

A plastic bin with litter in it will suffice if you don’t want to spend the $$$ while we figure this out. - ES

Henry seemed mildly amused by the situation as Killian shoved another note under his collar.

I honestly don’t know why he keeps visiting me. I have no food or entertainment here. I’m not even home most of the day. - KJ

He read the next note over dinner that evening.

Sounds like you’re quite the loner, KJ, and could use the company. - ES

Well, perhaps he didn’t have many guests over, and it had been a while since he’d been on a date. But he got his fill of human interaction at the shop, and when Liam was home, there was hardly any time for him to be alone.

Either way, he let Henry stay until he went to bed.

Loner or not, Henry needs to learn that he requires an invitation. Hopefully I can convince the landlord to repair the point of entry. - KJ

The following morning, Henry arrived with the reply.

Ho boy, getting the landlord to fix a problem? Good luck with that, buddy. In the meantime, please accept this apology. - ES

The note had been wrapped around a small piece of chocolate. He chuckled as he scribbled his reply.

Apology accepted. - KJ

Once Killian got to the shop the next morning, he quickly called the landlord. As much as the chocolate had mollified him, Henry was not his cat, and he wasn’t supposed to have animals in the apartment. The window needed to be repaired.

You’ve reached Silver Management. We are currently on vacation through the end of August. If you need emergency repairs, please call …

And of course, a broken screen and window of a top floor flat would not be considered an emergency; he hung up in frustration just as a customer walked in. “Good morning,” he said, trying to infuse his voice with cheer. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, just looking,” the woman replied. “You guys always have such nice displays.”

He tried not to let his disappointment show; the shop was doing well enough that window shoppers weren’t exactly a problem, but the point of the displays was to inspire those window shoppers to be paying customers. Perhaps next time. “Thank you very much,” he said, making sure to smile. “They’re showing off some of our customers’ favorite in-season flowers.”

The woman blushed. “I don’t really know anything about flowers,” she admitted. “I kind of assumed that they all just bloomed in the spring and stayed that way till fall.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of.” He stepped out from behind the counter. “In fact, many flowers are what we call repeat bloomers, since they bloom regularly from spring to fall, as you’d expect.” He gestured at a display of roses. “Many species of roses in particular are repeat bloomers, which is one of the reasons they’re popular year-round. Orchids, meanwhile, prefer the heat and humidity.” He waved her over to the display of potted orchids. “So while you can purchase orchids year-round, thanks to greenhouses and such, you might have trouble with them during colder, drier months.”

“Cool. So what else is in season?”

“Most lilies are—those are the flowers in the display. Honestly, lilies are quite versatile, with the sheer variety of species, so they’re quite popular.”

“What are these ones?”

“Ah, these are dahlias, one of my favorites. They’re considered a little more unusual these days, but they were once so popular in Europe that theft of their tubers was quite common.”

She leaned in and took a whiff, before frowning in confusion. “Huh.”

“The majority of these don’t have a scent,” he explained.

“Oh. Well, what’s your favorite scented one?”

A question he received quite frequently, and one he had a nice, boring answer to. “You can’t go wrong with roses,” he said almost automatically, “although jasmine is also quite lovely as well. And of course, there’s a reason why gardenias are so popular as a perfume scent.”

But instead of nodding along, the woman squinted at him, like he’d said something particularly strange. “You’re lying,” she said flatly.

“Excuse me?” He’d had customers complain that he’d overcharged for arrangements, and there was the one bride who’d dragged him on Yelp when he rightfully refused to refund a deposit, but he’d never been accused of lying.

“You’re lying,” she repeated, as though it were obvious. “None of those are your favorite.” She crossed her arms. “So what’s the deal?”

“I don’t know what to say. I quite like those flowers.”

“You gave me, like, a canned answer, like any salesperson would. Pretend I’m not a potential customer and try again.” She raised an eyebrow expectantly.

He nearly opened his mouth to repeat the list: Roses, jasmine, gardenias. But she was right; those were practiced responses, designed to fit in with customer expectations and result in sales he knew they’d be satisfied with. So what was his favorite scented flower for real?

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, taking in all of the scents around him. “Boronia,” he finally said.

“Boronia?”

“Boronia.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s Australian.” He opened his eyes. “We don’t carry it, as it can be too challenging to cultivate and like you, the majority of our clientele has never heard of it and never asks for it.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “Do you have anything that smells similar?”

“Aye, well, it has a fruity scent, and I’d say my favorite similarly scented flower we carry is freesia.” He stepped over to the fridge with some arrangements, and pulled out one of the smaller bouquets.

She took it delicately, as though she’d never held a bouquet of flowers before, and leaned in, taking a very gently sniff. “Oh.” She sniffed again. “Yeah, this smells really awesome.”

“It’s reasonably popular, although generally among folks who are specifically interested in this particular sort of scent. Otherwise, people tend to prefer something a little less …”

“Twee?” she supplied.

“I suppose. They’re just not as grand as roses.”

“I guess.” She glanced down at the bouquet she was still holding. “How much is this?”

“Fifty-four.”

“Dollars?” she asked, eyes wide. “Oh, never mind.”

“Sorry.” He anxiously scratched the back of his ear with his prosthesis. “Well … perhaps if you could wait a few minutes?”

In the back room, he quickly made his way to the refrigerator that contained the rest of the freesia. In no time at all, he’d fashioned a very small bouquet of purple freesia, wrapped in some purple ribbon he had left over from another arrangement.

The woman raised an eyebrow when he returned and handed over the little bouquet. “Twenty,” he offered. “Not that you’d be obligated to purchase it, but—”

“Oh, wow, that’s—no, I’ll buy it.”

“Really, it’s not—”

“No, it’s—I know just who to give it to, too.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t expecting to feel disappointed at making a sale. “Well, come on over to the register, love, and we’ll get you sorted.”

Getting her sorted took no time at all; by the time he’d finished wrapping the little bouquet in plastic, she’d already fished a twenty dollar bill out to pay him. “Thanks very much.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You know, for making something small enough for me to afford it.”

“Of course.”

“Do you mind—well, never mind.”

“What is it?”

“Can you write down the name of the flower for me? The one you like better than this?”

“Boronia?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course.” He pulled out a business card and quickly scribbled the word down before handing it over.

“Thanks.” She pocketed the card with a smile. “Well … have a good one.”

“You as well. Hope to see you again.”

Her eyes lit up at that, and she nodded. “You too.”

The rest of the week continued on as the previous one did, with Henry continuing to show up. Killian attempted to replace the screen with a screen from another window in the flat, but unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to remove the only other screen that was the same size. It appeared as though he would have to wait the final four weeks for Liam to come home, or for the landlord’s vacation to end, before he could free himself of his uninvited visitor.

Granted, Henry’s presence wasn’t all bad. Each visit brought a new note, and sometimes even a little gift. Usually, it was chocolate, but tonight, there was a nip of rum instead.

Happy Friday! - ES

Happy Friday indeed. He’d spent the whole evening preparing for a wedding the following day, and he hadn’t had time to go to the liquor store on his way home. He toasted the mysterious ES as he downed the shot.

And to you as well. I’d return the favor, but my liquor cabinet is empty. But the rum was very much appreciated. - KJ

He had another busy day on Saturday, driving the flowers to the venue, and then returning to prepare for another wedding. He’d been holed up in the back room all afternoon, but when he wandered out into the storefront to find some ribbon he vaguely recalled leaving out near the registers, he spotted a figure hanging around outside, peering in through the windows.

It was the woman from last week, the one he’d made the tiny freesia bouquet for. She spotted him and waved a little hesitantly.

He pushed open the door and smiled. “Hello, love. Sorry, we’re closed today.”

“Yeah, I saw. Closed for an Event, but it doesn’t look too lively in here.”

“Not an event here,” he explained with a chuckle. “Wedding tomorrow that we’re providing flowers for. I’m preparing as much as I can tonight, and then tomorrow I’ll drive it over to the venue.”

“Oh, okay, that makes sense.” But she made no move to leave. “So you’re definitely closed?”

“Definitely.”

She shifted back and forth on her feet slightly. “So you wouldn’t be able to throw together another little bouquet for a customer?”

He knew he should say no, not because he didn’t have the time or resources, but because it would set a precedent. The last thing he needed was for customers to learn that Jones Flowers wasn’t always really closed when they said they were, and then to leave angry Yelp reviews when he didn’t let them into the closed shop.

But the woman looked so shyly earnest. A week ago, she’d walked in, clearly uncertain about being a customer, and now she was eager to give him more business. And would a gentleman say no to a damsel?

He would most certainly not.

“Of course, love. Come on in. What can I do for you?”

She blushed a little, but otherwise looked almost determined. “Flowers have meanings, right?”

“Aye, that they do.”

“So you could make a bouquet that looked nice, or one that smelled nice, or one that meant something in particular?”

“Absolutely. Or all three.”

She nodded. “So, uh … I kind of need a bouquet that means, like … ‘I like you.’”

He didn’t much like the twinge of disappointment that ran through him, even as the professional part of his mind began running through the potential flowers. “And does the person currently know they are so admired?”

“Uh, no.”

“I’m sure they will once they see this bouquet,” he said, forcing himself into florist mode so he could forget that twinge. “Just give me a few moments, aye?”

When he returned to the storefront with the bouquet, she eyed it with interest. “Huh, interesting color scheme.”

He smiled and pointed to each species one by one. “Asters, for love and patience. Ranunculus, which means something along the lines of, ‘You’re attractive,’ or, ‘I quite fancy you.’” She chuckled, and his smiled widened before he continued. “Daffodils have a few meanings, but one of them is sort of … ‘Please return my affections,’ or similar. And this particular shade of rose represents love at first sight; it tends to be a softer sort of representation of love than a red rose would, if you’re anxious about coming on too strong.”

“Wow. You really know your flower meanings.”

“That is my job.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, this is really pretty.”

“I aim to please.”

“Uh, how much?”

Right, this was a business transaction. He’d constructed this bouquet for this woman so she could pass it on to someone else and alert them to her affections. He cleared his throat. “Thirty for this one, if that’s all right.”

“Hey, you’re not even open, and you still made this for me,” she pointed out, as she fished out her wallet. “So yeah, thirty’s all right.” Once again, she paid in cash; there was no credit card for him to glean her name off of. Not that it mattered—she was here buying flowers for someone else.

“You’ll have to let me know if it’s effective,” he said as he handed her her change and the wrapped bouquet.

She gave him a long stare before smiling. “Yeah, I’ll let you know. Might be too subtle and nuanced for them, to be honest.”

She left before he could ask how flowers could ever be a subtle or nuanced way to announce one’s affections. And besides, he had wedding flowers to finish. After checking to make sure the Closed for an Event sign was still clearly displayed, he locked the front door and wandered back into the back room.

There was one last lavender-colored rose on his workbench. Love at first sight indeed. He sighed and got back to work.

Killian couldn’t deny that he was a little pleased to find Henry waiting for him when he returned home Sunday after his delivery. Perhaps ES was right and he was a little too lonely. Either way, whether it was the cat or the note he carried, it was enjoyable having some semblance of company, with Liam still gone for another few weeks. He stroked Henry while he wound down with some mindless television, resolving to pick up some treats on his way to or from the shop tomorrow.

Throughout the week, the notes from ES were also a welcome distraction from the emptiness he felt regarding his mysterious new customer. He’d met the woman twice, had never learned her name, and hadn’t even given her much thought as more than a customer until she’d mentioned needing the bouquet for someone else. It was absurd that he would feel such a loss, and so he could do nothing except pretend that it didn’t.

The notes never got personal, which he had to admit was as much his doing as it was ES’s. Their handwriting wasn’t exactly neat, but was still strangely ordered; he couldn’t tell their gender based on it. Nothing they ever said gave any indication of what they did for a living, what their hobbies or interests were, or which nearby apartment they lived in.

But it was company nonetheless, and Killian enjoyed it.

Roommate bought an absurd amount of chewing gum at Costco, please enjoy some. -ES

Hope you have air conditioning because this weather sucks - ES

Thirsty Thursday, have some vodka! - ES

By the time the weekend rolled around, he’d successfully gotten his mind off of his newest customer. That is, until she stepped into the shop around closing time on Saturday.

“Oh.” He silently cursed himself for his heart’s reaction, which was to beat loudly in his ears. “Welcome back, love. How did the bouquet go over?”

“Hi,” she replied, and then she pursed her lips and shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t think it worked.”

“Too subtle?” She nodded. How on earth could that bouquet have been too subtle? “Well, perhaps we could do something a little bolder.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” she said. “Like … maybe something …” She blushed. “Sexier?”

“Sexier?” he echoed.

“Yeah, like …” She gestured vaguely with her hands. “Okay, like, the roses from last time, you said that shade meant love at first sight. Is there one that means … you know, something sexy? Or other flowers like that?”

“Aye, just—yeah, just give me a few minutes?”

She beamed. “Take your time.”

But he didn’t need much time. He knew exactly which flowers would do the trick, and a few minutes later, he returned with a bouquet only slightly larger than last week’s. “Rose, tuberose, and sweet pea.”

“Sweet pea?” she asked, voice heavy with skepticism. “No offense, but that sounds like it would have been better in the other bouquet.”

“No offense taken, but don’t let the name fool you.” He handed her the bouquet so she could examine it more closely. “Sweet pea is for bliss or pleasure.”

“And this color rose is for?”

“Desire. Which is excellent because it goes so well with the sweet pea in terms of color.”

“What’s this one?” she asked, pointing at the last bloom. She leaned in to smell and he took note of the subtle dilation of her pupils as she straightened back up.

“Tuberose. It blooms at night and the scent is said to inflame the desires. Its reputation is such that historically, young women were advised to avoid the scent, lest they give in to their lusts.”

“Wow.” She blushed at the description. “So I guess this is a sexy bouquet.”

“Well, you’ll have to let me know if it’s effective.”

She gave him an appraising look. “Yeah, I’ll let you know. How much?”

He gritted his teeth before replying. “Forty.”

As he wrapped the bouquet, she handed over two twenty dollar bills. “Thanks so much.”

“My pleasure,” he replied. She smiled brightly, took another sniff of the bouquet, and gave him a nod before heading outside.

As he closed up the shop for the evening, the heady scent of tuberose hung around him like an aura. Whatever success he’d had ignoring his growing attraction to this woman had been undermined by this relatively short interaction. He could only hope that this bouquet would garner her success, that the object of her affections would notice just how beautiful she was and reciprocate her interest, and that she would stop coming to the shop. Then, perhaps, he could forget about her.

Sunday night, ES’s note was a bit unusual. I’m bored, they said. Let’s play. One letter a day, and no cheating. - ES

Below, there was a doodle of a gallows, and a slew of dashes:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ , _ _ _ _ _ _ _ , _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ , _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Well, it wasn’t as though he had plans. And it would be a nice way to once again get his mind off of his customer.

He quickly grabbed a fresh sticky note and jotted down his reply.

E for my first letter. Is there a prize for winning? - KJ

When he went to bed, he stuck his note as well as the original doodle back under Henry’s collar, gave him a solid few minutes of ear and chin scritches, and sent him on his way.

Monday after work, he eagerly unwrapped the notes before feeding Henry some dinner. He was pleased to find no beginnings of a stick figure on the gallows, but surprised that there were still plenty of blank spaces:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ , _ _ EE _ _ _ , _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ , _ _ _ _ _ _ E _ _ _ E

Off to an okay start, boring that you picked the most common letter though. - ES

He shook his head and examined the patterns a bit. A three letter word without an E in it? He’d bet money that it was and. He stuck the doodle and his note under the collar and called it a night.

A for my second letter. You never answered my question, though. What do I win if I win? - KJ

He was two for two, he learned the next day, even though once again, there didn’t seem to be many blanks revealed.

_ _ _ _ _ _ A , _ _ EE _ _ A , _ A _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ , A _ _ _ _ _ E _ _ _ E

Not sure what you’d win, since I clearly send you prizes on the regular anyway. - ES

To be fair, they had sent Henry over with a nip of whiskey tucked under his collar.

The rest of the week dragged on, the strange game of hangman becoming a focal point, and he would spend his time in the shop watching the clock ever so slowly reach closing time. Closing time meant he could go home and see if his newest letter was somewhere in the sentence or phrase, but it also meant another day without seeing his newest customer.

He felt no small amount of guilt over it, since he wanted to see her again, and as a small business owner, it was blasphemous to wish to never see a pleasant paying customer ever again. But he had never become so attracted to someone so quickly, and given that someone else had caught her eye, there was no hope for him.

Saturday, he’d quickly copied out the hangman message to bring to work with him so he could brainstorm his next letter.

_ O _ ONIA , _ _ EE _ IA , _ AN _ N _ _ _ _ _ , AND _ _ _ E _ O _ E

None of the words looked remotely familiar; the middle one in particular looked to be quite the unknown. It must have the letter U in it, given that he’d already guessed the rest of the vowels, but for the life of him, he couldn’t make sense of what the word could be.

He heard the shop bell ring as he decided he would just have to guess a common letter. As it stood, the only letter he’d gotten wrong was Y, so he had plenty of room left for some mistakes. “Afternoon,” he said, and then he looked up.

His heart skipped a beat; it was her. “Oh, hello, love.” His throat was suddenly dry.

“Hi, how’s it going?”

“Well, thank you. How did the bouquet go over?” Even though he hadn’t worked with any tuberose at all since he’d seen her, he could suddenly smell it in the air as though the blooms were right in front of him.

She frowned, to his dismay. “I don’t know,” she said. “Honestly, I can’t get a read on this guy.”

Ah, a man. “Are you sure he appreciates flowers?”

“Oh, he does,” she said with certainty. “He really does.”

“Forgive me for asking. It’s just not that common, I suppose.”

She cocked her head. “Well, I mean, you like flowers, right?”

He chuckled. “Aye, I do. I’d be in the wrong business otherwise.”

“What’s your favorite one?”

“Hm?”

“Like, you could only get a bouquet with one kind of flower. What’s your favorite one? What would you want?”

“I should warn you that his taste and mine might be wildly different.”

“Come on.” She leveled an impatient look at him. “What’s your favorite flower? I’ll go first; I like buttercups.” She raised her left hand, showing off what was unmistakably a buttercup tattoo. “Now, you go.”

He sighed. It truly wasn’t an easy question for any florist to answer. There was his favorite scent, which was boronia, as he’d mentioned to her. He adored roses for their versatility and variety. He loved the challenge of cultivating orchids, and the satisfaction when he was successful.

But his favorite flower? The one he was always pleased to sell, the one he put into as many displays as possible? “Lilies,” he said, as though he were sharing some dark, personal secret.

“Lilies?” she asked, before turning towards the displays in the windows. “Oh, you took them down.”

She’d remembered the display from the first time she’d come in; he tried not to read into it. “Aye, well, there are still lilies in the displays. It’s just not, you know, an entirely-lily display anymore.”

“Fair.” She turned back to him. “Okay, I’d like a lily bouquet then.”

“Er, what kind?”

“Oh.” She winced. “I didn’t realize there were more than one kind.”

“That’s all right, love,” he reassured her. “It’s my job to know, not yours.” He waved her over to a display. “We have Peruvian lilies, which are what you saw in the display a few weeks ago. We also have more traditional lilies in a variety of colors.” He pointed them out. “And then we also carry calla lilies, which look a bit different.”

“Can I see?”

“One moment, of course.” He brought out a few samples from the back room.

“Oh, cool.”

“Aye, the shape is quite interesting.”

“I like these and these other ones.” She pointed at the white calla lily, and then at a Madonna lily in a bouquet nearby.

“Well, give me a few minutes then?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Do you want it to be just lilies?”

She shook her head. “Nah, I trust you.”

He chuckled. “Even if my other bouquets have failed to win over your intended?”

She laughed. “Yeah, I still trust you.”

“Well … thanks, I suppose.” And before he could embarrass himself further, he ducked into the back to get to work.

“Oh, this is really pretty,” she said when he brought out the resulting bouquet. “Okay, so the two kinds of lilies, got it. But what are these other flowers?”

“Gardenias. Lilies don’t have a particularly strong scent, whereas gardenias do, and a pleasant one at that.”

She took a whiff. “Oh, yeah, I like it. Good call.” She looked up with a smile. “How much?”

He shook his head. “Honestly, just let me know how it goes.”

“Uh, I’m going to pay you,” she said firmly.

“You can pay me for the next one.”

“No, I—”

“You’ve been a surprisingly loyal and frequent customer,” he pointed out. “And it’s been a delight talking about flowers with you. As I said, I promise to charge you for the next bouquet. But you wanted me to make one with my favorite flowers, so …” He sighed. “Just, take it, all right?”

She opened her mouth to argue, before sighing. “All right. Fine. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Excellent.”

She left, and the swirl of the scent of gardenias remained in her wake. It reminded him of just how foolish he really was. He wanted to get over his little infatuation, and here he was, giving her free flowers to give to another man. Here he was, telling her to come back and update him on her love life.

Here he was, breathing in the scent of gardenia, the flower of secret love.

He was a bloody fool.

Henry was waiting for him when he returned home; he quickly fed him and scribbled his reply note to ES.

S for my next letter. I have no bloody clue what you’ve spelled out. Suspect it might not be English. - KJ

It was comforting to have Henry curl up in his lap as he tried to distract himself with television and the nip of whiskey ES had delivered earlier in the week.

Perhaps he should invite ES out for a drink. Platonically, of course. Clearly, living alone while Liam was away and living like a hermit was affecting him severely if he was this head over heels for a customer he’d met all of four times and whose name he didn’t even know.

“That’s all it is, Henry,” he said to the cat. “I just crave social interaction. And who knows? Perhaps if your owner is a fetching lass, that might help.”

Henry did not seem to care, and responded by stretching out, swatting at Killian’s knee, and then hopping off his lap entirely to go investigate the boxes Killian had set up for him to play with.

When he finally went to bed, he carefully pushed Henry out the window with the new note tucked in his collar, no mention of drinks in sight. But there was no need; he would solve the hangman puzzle, and ask to meet up as his prize. Easy and subtle, and no stranger than two people playing hangman using a cat as a go-between.

No stranger than falling in love with a woman whose name he didn’t even know.

The following morning was Sunday, his day off, when he expected to wake up late with Henry curled up somewhere on the bed. But instead, he woke up alone, earlier than usual, to someone ringing the doorbell.

He froze, anxiety flooding him. Who on earth would be at the door on a Sunday morning? Or continuing to ring the doorbell over and over? His phone on the nightstand was on and fully charged; if this were an emergency, he should be receiving a phone call, not a visitor.

But the doorbell did not abate.

He regulated his breathing as best he could as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and slipped on a pair of shoes, before making his way downstairs to the front door.

He had never been as shocked in his life as he was when he opened the door to find his customer, tears streaming down her face as she clutched none other than Henry to her chest.

“I’ll explain later but something’s really wrong with Henry and my car won’t start, and I need to get to the vet, and my roommate isn’t home and I didn’t know who else to ask,” she blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut, almost as though she were in physical pain.

His mind, fuzzy from being woken up in such an abrupt and startling manner, struggled to make sense of what he was seeing and hearing. It was her, his customer whose name he didn’t know, whom he’d been falling in love with, but she was holding Henry, ES’s cat, and somehow knew where he lived.

“I … bloody—I mean—”

It was not the most eloquent moment of his life, and she didn’t appear to have the patience to deal with it. “Look, Killian, please, I know I owe you an explanation, but please, he’s really sick!”

It was then that he realized that Henry was indeed quite ill. He lay in the woman’s arms lethargically, drooling on her shirt.

They had to get Henry to the vet. “Wait here while I grab my keys,” he said. She nodded, bottom lip trembling.

Once in the car, she had the presence of mind to give him the name of the animal hospital to enter into his GPS, but otherwise, the only sounds she made were quiet gasps for air as she tried to stop crying. Luckily, the timing was right; all of the Sunday drivers were at church already, leaving the roads empty enough that they made it to the hospital within fifteen minutes. And without asking, or having her ask, he followed her inside to the front desk.

“Hi, my cat—he’s suddenly super sick,” she said as soon as they approached the receptionist.

“Okay, sweetheart, just breathe, okay?” the woman replied. “Have you been here before?”

“Yeah, we see a vet here.”

“What’s your name, honey?”

“Emma. Emma Swan.”

As she—Emma—began to describe Henry’s symptoms to the receptionist, Killian couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Emma Swan. ES. There it was.

“Just have a seat, all right? We’ll send someone to come get you shortly.”

“How shortly?” Emma asked.

“As soon as possible.”

“Come on, love,” Killian said, touching her arm gently. “I’m sure it’ll be soon.”

She was shaking as they sat down in the waiting area, which was mercifully empty of any other pets or their owners. Henry’s demeanor hadn’t changed; while Killian was relieved he hadn’t worsened, it was still distressing to see the normally active and athletic feline lying limply in his owner’s arms.

“Thank you,” Emma whispered.

“Of course.”

“You could have slammed the door in my face.”

“Wouldn’t have been very gentlemanly of me.” Her face screwed up, and he quickly realized his mistake. “Not that I’m only here out of sense of duty,” he clarified.

“You’re here for Henry,” she said softly, and she sniffled loudly as she stroked his fur. “I appreciate that.”

“Just because I’m surprised doesn’t mean I’m not here for both of you.”

“Henry?” A technician had appeared in front of them. “We’re ready for you.”

In the examination room, Emma relayed the same information to the technician as she’d provided to the receptionist: about an hour after she’d woken up and fed Henry, she’d noticed he was drooling and vomiting, and had even peed on the carpet instead of in his litter box.

“You fed him his normal food?” the tech asked.

“Yeah, same as always.”

“Is there anything unusual he could have eaten lately?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s this on his collar?”

“Oh.” Emma’s face was already red from crying, but she flushed even more before quickly fumbling for the notes. “That’s—that’s nothing. This is my neighbor.” She nodded at Killian. “Henry likes to go over to his place, so we exchange notes and stuff that way.”

“And stuff?”

“Like, chocolate sometimes.”

“Or alcohol,” Killian added.

“Has he had any diarrhea?” the tech asked.

“No, no diarrhea,” Emma confirmed.

“Okay. That’s good.” She frowned. “Let me get the vet, okay?”

Left alone in the room, Killian paused before reaching out to rub her shoulder. It felt strangely forward, given that before this morning, she’d been an unattainable customer. But she was ES, his friend, and he wanted to comfort her. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“I hope so.” She wiped her nose on her arm. “I just—look, I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad you came and got me.”

“No, no, not for that. The flower stuff.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘What?’ I’ve been coming into your store every week.”

“No, I know, just—why are you apologizing?”

She shrugged as she pet Henry. “I knew you were the person Henry was hanging out with and I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” Well, it was certainly a little odd. And he supposed if he’d found out another way, he might feel frustration or even anger. But with Henry ill, it was as though he’d moved straight into accepting the situation. “Nothing to apologize for, but I forgive you if it’ll make you feel better.”

She snorted. “I was gonna tell you this morning.” She unfolded the note and smoothed it out on the examination table.

_ O _ ONIA , _ _ EESIA , _ AN _ N _ _ _ _ S , AND _ _ _ E _ OSE

Here’s a clue for you. - ES

With the letter S, it was now unbelievably obvious, as his mind filled in the blanks:

BORONIA, FREESIA, RANUNCULUS, AND TUBEROSE

Had she not shown up this morning, this would have been a dead giveaway. Although, “Wait, what clue?”

“Oh, the … uh …” She frowned as she examined Henry’s collar. “I guess it fell off. I put one of the lilies in his collar this morning.”

His heart dropped. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“Bloody hell what?”

There was a knock at the door, and then the vet stepped in. “Hi, folks. I hear Henry here isn’t feeling well.”

“He ate a lily,” Killian said. “Bloody hell, he ate a lily.”

“Oh.” The vet scanned the chart. “Yeah, this is all consistent with lily poisoning, actually. How certain are you?”

“Very.” Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell.

“I don’t get it,” Emma said.

“Most species of lily are extremely toxic to cats,” the vet explained. “Now, there are many species of lily, and some aren’t toxic at all. Can you describe what these flowers looked like?”

“He’s a florist,” Emma said.

“Emma, which kind was it? Calla lily or Madonna lily?”

“Uh …” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I don’t remember the names, but it was whichever one had multiple petals, not the one that looked like a bell.”

“Madonna lily,” he confirmed. “Lilium candidum. Definitely toxic.”

“Okay,” the vet said. “How long ago could he have ingested it?”

“Like, max two hours ago.”

“And he vomited?” Emma nodded. “Did you see any floral debris?”

“I didn’t check.”

“That’s okay. From what you’ve told me, it definitely sounds like lily poisoning, and it sounds like we caught it early enough.” Emma visibly relaxed. “We’re going to take care of him, okay?”

The vet explained what would happen—that they’d try to induce vomiting again, then give him charcoal to try to absorb any more toxins. But when the vet told her that Henry would have to stay for one or two nights, Emma began to shake visibly. When it was time for Henry to go to another part of the hospital for treatment, and for Killian and Emma to leave, it was as though the room suddenly did not have enough air. Emma began to cry again as she pet and kissed Henry, and when Killian reached down to give his feline friend a reassuring pat, he found his own vision swimming from unshed tears.

Once they were in the car, Emma began crying in earnest, and his heart broke a little. “Stay with me tonight,” he said gently. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Okay.”

Back in his flat, he sat her down on the couch before scrambling to find a box of tissues for her. By the time he returned, though, she was nowhere to be found. Had she gone to the loo?

When he went to check, he spotted her, standing in the doorway of his bedroom, hugging herself with her arms, and staring at the open window. “So, like … you can’t close it?” she asked.

“No. My brother—my roommate—kept promising to repair it, but he kept forgetting. And he’s been on a business trip for over a month now.”

“Where’s the screen?”

“A small gray cat put a hole in it,” he said gently.

She drew in a shuddering breath, and then sighed.

“Come on, lass.” She wordlessly followed him back to the living room.

“So you knew it was me?” he asked, once he’d gotten her a glass of water.

“Yeah, I’d seen you around the neighborhood, and then I saw you in the shop while I was walking by and I recognized you.”

“No, I mean—that I was the person Henry was visiting.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “Well, you wrote down boronia for me. I recognized your handwriting. And that’s how I knew your name, ‘cause you wrote it on a business card.”

“I wrote …” Oh, but she was right. That very first meeting, he’d written it down on a business card at her request. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I dunno, I felt creepy. You didn’t recognize me so I felt weird about it.”

“Understandable. But I suppose you were about to reveal yourself with this whole game of hangman. And the lily,” he added lamely.

“Yeah, well, look how well that went.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Henry’s going to be fine, you know.” He sighed. “I just wish I’d known. Or I should have told you. You’re not the expert; I am. I’m the one who’s supposed to know what species are toxic and share that information with customers.”

“Yeah, well, as a cat owner, I’m supposed to check these things. Like, I know he’s not supposed to have chocolate, or onions, or grapes. Stuff like that.”

“Emma,” he said firmly. “What’s important is that we know now, all right? And you heard the doctor; that he vomited and you brought him in so quickly bodes very well for him.” She smiled. “See?”

“No, it’s—” She blushed before wiping her nose with a tissue. “You said my name.”

Emma. “Well,” he said, his throat suddenly constricting with even more emotion, “I didn’t know it until today.”

She chuckled. “You know, it’s so stupid.”

“What is?”

“Like, this bouquet finally worked, but not in the way I thought.”

What? “What are you talking about?”

She gestured, still clutching the crumpled tissue. “Like, the romantic bouquet didn’t work. The sexy one didn’t work. So I tried your favorite flower, and here I am in your apartment.”

He tried to make sense of it. This bouquet had worked, and by worked, she meant it had gotten her into his flat. Which meant that the goals of the previous bouquets must have been the same thing. “But I thought you were giving them to a beau. The bouquets, I mean.”

“I never said I was giving them to anyone.”

“But you …” Had she? “Forgive me, love, but I am quite confused.”

“I wasn’t giving them to anyone,” she said. “I was hoping you’d notice the messages. Like, me liking you. Or finding you attractive. I wasn’t being very subtle!”

“You were buying flowers for someone,” he pointed out. “I assumed you were giving them to that someone.”

“No, I kept them.” She sighed. “Look, I know you care about Henry, and we’ve got this weird note-swapping thing going on, but you don’t have to feel obligated just because I like you, okay? Today sucks already, and having you treat me weird out of pity is just the last thing I need.”

“Emma, I could have made you a bouquet of just lilies yesterday.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay. So?”

“So I added gardenias.”

“Right, because they smell nice. And they do smell nice.”

“Here.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to her. “Why don’t you look them up?”

“Okay,” she said slowly. She tapped away at the phone for a bit, clearly not sure what information she was supposed to look for.

But then she must have found it, because she turned a delicate shade of pink, and she seemed to curl up into herself in embarrassment. “Really?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, really.”

Almost instantaneously, she launched herself at him. He heard his phone fall to the ground, but he would check on it later. Right now, all that mattered was that Emma, ES, his mysterious customer, wanted to kiss him, and there was nothing more that he wanted to do than to kiss her right back.

Gardenias would no longer be an appropriate flower to give to her, now that his love for her was no longer a secret.

Killian knocked on the door with his prosthesis; a few moments later, Emma opened the door. “Hi!” she said, a bit breathlessly. “Sorry, was working on dinner. Come on in!”

After spending his day breathing in the scent of flowers, it was refreshing, if a bit jarring, to be bombarded by the smell of a homemade meal. “Smells wonderful.”

“Well, I mean … it’s a super easy recipe,” she replied as she hurried back into the kitchen. “How was your week?”

“It was fine. I do miss having this fellow pop ‘round.” He leaned down and stroked Henry’s head and back as the cat pressed against his legs.

“You know, now that your window is fixed, he’s stopped leaving the house.”

“It’s nice to know I was the only person he was interested in visiting.”

“Mmhmm. Okay, I think it’s ready if you want to have a seat.”

“Of course. Do you have a vase, though?”

“Hm?” She popped her head into the doorway, and then she blushed. “Oh my god, did you bring me flowers?”

“One of the perks of having a florist for a boyfriend.” He grinned as he pulled the bouquet from behind his back. “I think you’ll love this one.”

He’d expected to see a curious expression, since he didn’t think she’d recognize the flower he was excited about. Instead, her eyes widened. “Shit, we can’t have that here!”

“What?” He looked at the bouquet, unsure of what was so offensive about it.

“Hold on, just—hold on.” She disappeared back into the kitchen, and he could hear the sounds of pots being moved and utensils gently hitting dinnerware.

He stood awkwardly, unable to feel comfortable having a seat until he’d gotten the flowers in a vase. He examined the flowers again, and then looked around the flat. Perhaps her roommate was averse to flowers? But no; Emma had brought home four bouquets, and the only one that had been thrown out early was the final one, with the lilies. For the life of him, he could not think of a reason why she would have such a negative reaction to the bouquet.

She reappeared, wiping her hand on her forehead. “Sorry, didn’t want anything to burn.”

“It’s all right. But I’m not sure I understand your aversion to this bouquet.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I’m quite serious.”

“I don’t know how to explain it to you without making you feel stupid.”

“That sounds quite unpleasant, but I really cannot determine the reason for your objection.”

“They’re lilies, Killian. I can’t have lilies in the house.” Her brow furrowed, and he realized she was close to tears. “I can’t risk losing Henry again.”

“Oh, love, you know I wouldn’t do that.” He strode over to her and embraced her as best he could, still clutching the flowers. He pulled back and gave her a reassuring smile. “Peruvian lilies are Alstroemeria, not Lilium. They’re entirely safe for cats.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She threw her arms around his neck and sighed happily. “Oh thank god. Thank you.”

“Do you have a vase? I trimmed them before I came over.”

“Yeah, let me grab it.”

She returned to the dining room with a vase filled with water, and eagerly grabbed the bouquet from him. “Okay, the lilies I recognized. But what’s this one? No offense, but it looks weird.”

“Give it a sniff.”

She did, first delicately and then deliberately. “Oh wow. Okay, I loved the freesia and the gardenias, but this one wins.” She took another whiff. “Yeah, this smells amazing. Is this … no, this isn’t jasmine, right? What the hell is this?”

He grinned. “Boronia. Special order finally came in.”

Her mouth dropped. “You—you special ordered it for me?”

“Aye.”

She all but threw the bouquet into the vase and grabbed his hand as she dragged him in the direction of what he had to assume was her bedroom. “What about dinner?”

“I can microwave it.”

“Works for me.”

#cs ff #ouat ff #captain swan #phira's stories #subtle and nuanced #happy birthday to my favorite suitcase #you are a grown up now

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