#oh now he is loafing on my book. beautiful

[necromancer-nonbinary]

pictured: the precise moment a bug landed on my forehead

[shirefantasies]

LoTR Characters When You Give Them Flowers

Sorry for the absence, been crazy times 😅 Just something cute I couldn’t get out of my head, enjoy~ Also, correcting my Faramir drought let’s frickin go 🤙🏻

Aragorn

The last town you’d stopped in, there’d been a girl. A little thing, hardly more than seven or eight years old, and there she stood with a basket in hand. She was selling flowers, long and dainty stems with white blooms, no doubt to help her family sitting off in the distance.

The moment he laid eyes upon her, Aragorn had bent over, pressing the loaf he had just bought into her hand and whispering some words of hope you wished you could hear. Heart leaping, you watched him move along before approaching the girl yourself.

~

When night had fallen and a fire began crackling, you took the flowers from behind your back and held them out to the ranger you so dearly loved. The smile that instantly graced him was truly a worthwhile blessing.

“I know where you found these,” he remarked, turning them gently over in his hand as his smile softened.

You mirrored the expression. “I thought they could use a bowl of soup to split the loaf with. And you deserve a gift, even to the smallest gifts of the earth.”

Wordlessly, Aragorn took your hand with the one not holding the flowers, clutching it tight as his blue eyes gazed into yours.

Legolas

“Do you elves know anything of the language of flowers?”

Legolas’s brows furrowed a bit at that, and you couldn’t help giggling at the sight of his expression, his next choice of words. “Words of the trees, yes, but flowers? Perhaps an old tale.”

“No, no,” you shook your head, still smiling, “my people have quite the elaborate custom around flowers. Different blooms in different colors make quite unique statements. Take roses for instance- they come in a whole slew of colors.”

“I see,” he nodded, “so a yellow rose would speak volumes apart from a red one, then?”

Your heart leapt at Legolas’s choices, his unwitting contrast between the blossoms of friendship and passionate, deep love. “Indeed. There are even flowers that say ‘your letter was received’! But if this is unfamiliar to the elves, any flowers would be quite the surprise, would they not?”

“We have always had appreciation for the earth’s beauty.”

You took that as as close of a yes as you’d get, shaking your head as you shifted in the hard base of your seat, turning back to grab the vase of flowers you’d made for your friend, the one who made your heart beat like no other. White lilies could symbolize mourning, but also that one’s love was pure. Perfect, perhaps, if unrequited. Pink irises for hope, though. Hundred-leaved roses in pink for a love truly sincere. Bursts of snow and sunset pink dotted with faint yellow, all curated by your hand to shine with words you hadn’t the heart to speak aloud.

“As do I. These I arranged for you, in fact!” Hands curling around the vase, you held your gift aloft.

Legolas’s dark eyes lit up, mischief crossing his handsome face. “Now that I’ll be guessing the meaning?”

You flushed, rising from your seat as his hands covered yours, accepting your offering. “Well, I was just curious if you’ve heard of-”

“Oh, it is far too late for that! I’m certain Lord Elrond has books on the subject. By tomorrow I’ll be an expert, and who knows? Perhaps you’ll find some flowers of your own.”

You couldn’t help shakily smiling as Legolas’s eyes peered into yours glittering so, his hands still resting warmly over yours.

Boromir

“Boromir! Look!”

The man in question turned his head at the sound of your voice, watching as you bounded his way with hands full of flowers. Their bright color perfectly brought out the tone of your twinkling eyes, eyes that glittered unlike anything Boromir had ever witnessed before.

“Lovely, truly,” he inclined his head toward them as you reached him, “the finest. Where did you come by these?”

“Off at the far end of the meadow!”

Boromir chuckled deeply. “The firewood may have been forgotten, then?”

Pouting suited you, didn’t it? Adorable indeed. “Well, I just saw these and-”

“Worry not,” he slid an arm about your waist, “firewood is no emergency. You deserve this small joy- we all do.”

Glancing down a bit, you extended your hand, raising your treasure such that it practically brushed you both as it connected you. “Well, they are for you.” Were you flushing?

“For me? Well, what a gift! I suppose they do suit me more than you. After all…” Smiling, Boromir tightened his grip around you just a bit. “The most beautiful blossom in leagues is right here. If you keep this little bouquet they will envy you forever.”

Gimli

You stand beneath the awning’s shade, swaying slightly as you tend to the baskets placed along your cart. Your favorite is one filled with mountain poppies collected near the base of the snows, cheery and delicate and brisk as it had felt to be there trimming them. Truly you love your life, though it gets lonely having only plants to speak to. Sometimes you find yourself drifting into fantasy, imagining someone to protect you. You like to think you’re no damsel in distress, but the truth of the matter is you’ve never been a fighter and the village ravagers have been drawing closer.

~

A woman purchases a simple vase of sunflowers, nodding gratefully as you pass them to her. Behind her, though, emerges a shorter figure- a dwarf, by the looks of his armor and beard. You smile. That trip to the mountains introduced you to a host of very friendly dwarrowdams who bid you stay in their boardinghouse, boisterous though it may have been.

“Good afternoon,” you greet him from aside an arrangement of daisies.

“Good afternoon indeed! Tell me, though, why one as fair as yourself is hiding behind a lot of old daisies, eh?”

Flushing, you shrug and step around the side of the cart, removing all obstructions. “I suppose I’m just a bit used to it is all. Were you looking for anything in particular?”

The dwarf shakes his head. “Nay, I was just struck by the sight of the one smile this town seems to have.”

It is a fair point. Rohan has been downcast of late, hope in short supply with all the attacks. Your lot was seen as mere peasants in the way of it all.

“Times have been hard. The orc packs have been running rampant for a long time. I- I don’t know how much longer we can hold out.”

Smirking victoriously, the dwarf leans on his axe. “You wouldn’t happen to mean the pack of stragglers that just got slaughtered, would you?”

You lit up. “You’ve seen them?”

“With my own eyes. They certainly won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“Pick anything you’d like here, please, it isn’t much, but it is the least I could do to repay your gift,” you insisted, waving a hand over your display.

He scanned your cart before a look of comical shock burst across his face at the poppies. Noting it, you lifted the basket gingerly into his hands.

“Those are my favorites, too! And they are yours.”

“Only if you keep one to remember me by. Gimli, son of Glóin,” he introduces himself sweepingly, outstretched hand deftly producing a poppy to hold out your way.

Frodo

“What is this one?” Frodo inquired, holding up a small leather tome.

“Oh,” you tilted your head, “that one is a bit different. Here, let me show you.”

Shifting to sit at his side, you took the book from his outstretched palms and opened it, revealing pages blank save for the flowers you’d pressed in them, splashes of yellow, red, purple, green.

“I try to add one from everywhere I’ve been,” you added, turning the pages, “I even have a page from the Shire.”

The spread of the next pages revealed stems of lavender you’d plucked from gardens, Shire daisies, even some pansies you’d plucked from Bag End itself, and plenty more, too. Frodo’s bright eyes widened at the sight of it, a smile growing upon his lips.

“This is a treasure to see- a reminder of home, and one I can touch, too,” he sighed, brushing his fingers softly over the crisp petals, “I remember the feel of them again.”

His relief was practically palpable in the air as his eyelids fluttered shut in content, smile growing. Heart swelling, you pushed it closer to him.

“It’s yours.”

“I can’t-” He protested.

Handing the leather-bound book over to him, you nodded. “Yes, you can. Your happiness, your relief, is a much greater gift than these to me. The earth will renew it over again on my travels,” you told him with a smile.

One of Frodo’s hands left the petals long enough to linger atop yours. “I will never be parted from it.”

Sam

“Sam! Oh, Sam, wait up!”

Turning his golden head your way, Sam smiles the moment he sees you, sending your heart leaping from your chest as he speaks your name softly in reply.

“What is it?”

“Well, nothing, really,” you reply shyly, hands behind your back, “I just saw these and thought of you.”

Alight is the only word you could have used to describe Sam’s face as your hands leave your back and bring forth the bunch of little bluish-white blossoms you had just discovered a little off the road.

“Absolute beauts, those are,” he breathes with a grin, “harebell, they’re called. They like to grow in rocks for some reason, the little buggers.”

His knowledge sweeps you off your feet, but you can’t help asking. “Do you like them?”

“Of course I do! These are some really pretty ones, very bright indeed!”

Holding them out, you giggle nervously. “Well, good, because they’re for you! I picked these to give you, Sam.”

Jaw dropping and green eyes widening, Sam reaches forward and gently takes the miniature bouquet from your hands. “You mean it?” He asks with another bright grin.

“I really do,” you smile and nod.

For the rest of the day those harebells don’t leave Sam’s hand, and any time he has a moment’s idleness he’s looking at them, fingers gently caressing the blossoms as he glances your way with a smile.

Merry

Normally Merry dipped you. But you changed that that night. Normally he was the one to sweep you off your feet, charm you, but it was you who stole his breath away that night. The way you took his hand and pulled him closer into the dance, twirled him and brought him inches from your face, only had him wanting more.

What really got him, though? The rose you’d handed him at the end of it all. Such a simple gesture and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes off the thing. Or you.

Surely you noticed. The two of you were quite comfortable, else you wouldn’t be dancing so, but no one had gone beyond any teasing. It was all in good fun, unspoken attraction that suddenly grew, enveloping and consuming Merry’d beating heart as he looked at you with new passion. He needed someone who made his heart race so by his side. Someone like you could keep him up being the best hobbit he could be.

And that was why he marched right up to you later in the evening, taking one more massive swig of ale before he approached, rose twirling between his fingertips all the while.

“I hope you meant this,” he nodded down to the bright red bloom, “as much as I mean this.”

Your lips parted, the beginnings of a question fell from them, but not much escaped before your lips were pulled into Merry’s, your hands falling against his chest.

Pippin

Never had you felt so light as when you were around one mister Peregrin Took. All your time with him, it seemed, was spent in joy, laughter, comfort. One look from him was all it took for a smile to creep onto your face. One song from him and it was all you could do not to kiss him right then and there.

For your part, though, you weren’t sure how he felt, thus you acted accordingly, enjoying the time you had with him as much as possible without pushing your feelings. Well, not too much- he was quite fun to tease, after all!

A flower had caught your eye as you strolled, some little cousin to a daisy bursting from brush in a merry little yellow spark you couldn’t help taking for yourself.

Well, mostly. “For you,” you said in a playful lilt, holding it out his way.

The manner in which his smile and shoulders rose had you shyly grinning. “For me?” He repeated, ecstatic as he was incredulous.

The moment you nodded the flowers was all but snatched from your hand. “Where do you think it would look better, here?” First he tucked it into his mess of curls. “Or here?” Tucking it next into the buttonhole of his coat, he grinned at you.

Giggling, you told him he didn’t have to wear it.

“Oh, I want to. I want the whole of Middle Earth to know you’ve given me this gift.” Comical as his words were, the shine in his eyes told you Pippin was sincere.

Faramir

The steward of Gondor had gone up before the people to address them on some perceived victory. To his side he had pulled up his son, the elder one, and named him spearhead of it all. Boromir was a great man, certainly, but so in no shorter words was his brother Faramir, the dearer sibling to your heart.

The moment you met Faramir in the crowd of people, mostly men celebrating in their keep outfit, dented as it was, you rested a hand upon his shoulder. “Let nobody so insignificant taint your victory, Faramir. Were it not for you, half the city would not even be standing.”

“We could have kept it as it was if we-”

“No,” you shook your head, leaning a bit further on him, “none of that. You are a man, not a miracle worker. And so is your brother and everyone else in your family. You have fortitude of mind, strength of heart.”

“Yet less the swing of a sword,” Faramir chuckled.

“The swing of a sword alone a kingdom does not make,” you teasingly chastised, waving a finger, “besides, you have something none of them will ever have.”

“And what is that?” He asks, gently lifting your hand off his shoulder and up to his lips.

“My heart,” you reply, pulling one of the flowers woven into your hair out to press it into his other palm.

Faramir pulls those petals to his lips, too, twirling the stem thoughtfully with a hum. “Then I am, indeed, blessed.”

Eomer

Every time it felt like your heart would shatter. He left again and again but it never got easier wondering if the man you’d grown to love would be torn from you in a brutal battle, one lax moment ending it all.

Tears pricked at your eyes as he looked into them with a smile far too easygoing to you. Too assured.

“Do not look so defeated,” Eomer told you, reaching down with a hand to caress your face in a way that sent your heart leaping, “it’s a small raiding party, that is all.”

“I know, I just-” Your breath hitched, words caught in your throat. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

At that, he smiled, releasing his hand again. “You should worry more for the orcs.”

“Still, though, here,” shaking your head, you produced the bundle of flowers you’d tied together for him, face warming, “take these. For luck.”

Eomer’s smile widened even as his horse grew a bit restless; giving its mane a quick pat, he reached down to accept your proffered gift. Sweeping some golden hair off his shoulder, he tucked your blossoms into his saddle.

“Now I know I’ll make it,” he replied, and with a wink he rode off.

Needless to say, he has gifts of his own planned when he returns: a confession, once and for all, and a kiss.

Haldir

"Come now, keep up!"

"Whatever for?"

Laughing, you turn to face Haldir once more and see him ascending the spiraling steps behind you with a look of exasperation. Perhaps, too, amusement. Long, fair hair whips about his face in the breeze as a smile teases onto his lips.

“Is it so bad to spend a little time together?” You shot back merrily, feet still eagerly tapping upon every plank that raised you higher amidst the boughs.

“I only ask because I know of your schemes,” Haldir teases in response.

“If you must know,” you stopped, hands on your hips before you waved one about a spray of vines snaking over the tree’s bark, powder-blue blossoms extending from them, “my scheme was to see if you'd noticed these in your travels."

"I had not," he murmured in response, stepping to your side to caress a pale petal gently, warmth filling you at his proximity.

With a small smile, you took up the age-old habit you'd developed in childhood so many years past, deftly plucking and weaving stems together as Haldir watched with amused interest. Unsure as you were how much time passed, he stood stock-still even as you finished your work, placing the crown of flowers atop his head.

"Here you are, My King," you jested with a smile, taking two steps forward.

Grey eyes staring into yours, Haldir took your hand, shaking his head softly and taking a blossom of his own. "Wait here. No king should rule alone, after all."

Eowyn

Riding brought such joy and exhilaration as one could hardly know elsewhere, especially with a fair and fearless maid like Lady Eowyn at your side. The smile you so longed to see bloomed across her face as you both urged your horses on, picking up speed into a run across the green of the plains. The thudding of hooves invigorated you as the pair of you pressed on, riding like the wind until whim took you to dismount and stop for a breather.

As you sat upon the grass, a dotting of pink flowers amidst the waving green caught your eye; joy seizing you, you picked one after the other until you had a tiny handful. Eowyn’s eyes, you saw, drifted over your work, but she said nothing.

Nothing, that was, until you broke the silence. “These remind me of you, you know. We often think of flowers here as signs of mourning, but these? These are hope. Bits of brightness out of nothing.”

She smiled faintly, shyly, blue eyes shining. “Sometimes it does not feel so.”

“Well, to me it is so,” you replied, extending your little bouquet her way.

The glitter of her eyes somehow brightened as she looked upon your gift, smile opening all the way. You were overcome at the sight of it, the return of warmth to the fairest of faces, and before you realized it you had leaned in and pressed your lips to hers.

Arwen

“But surely you have already received so many mighty gifts!”

“None were from you,” Arwen replied simply, breathily, waving a hand, “come, show me.”

Her smile, breathtaking even in the simplest of moments, encouraged you to pull your hands from behind your back, revealing the bouquet you’d recently tied. With the best ribbon you’d found on hand, of course, beautiful white silk lined with thin silver.

“You see, I wanted to honor you with gifts pure as your heart- gifts from the earth. These are-”

“From the garden where we met!” Arwen was one to remain composed, often feeling the pressure of her years and upbringing and, surely, wisdom. “Of course I remember! You tripped and I caught you!”

Unable to help flushing beneath her grin and the rush of memory, the heat across your face as you pitched over a stone and were captured by the hand of the most graceful maiden you’d ever seen, you simply smiled. “That would be the time. Ever since that day I cannot walk past white roses without thinking of you. And that seems fitting,” you added.

Arwen pursed her lips, eyebrows raising curiously. “Oh?”

“Pure,” you repeated, “fair and beloved as all. Delicate, but formidable. More than capable of defending themselves.”

“Are you saying I have thorns?” She teased, leaning an arm upon your shoulder, breath warm against your ear.

“I’ve seen what you can do,” you shot back, “perhaps I am.”

“Well, at any rate, I love this gift far beyond all displays of wealth. This is a gift of your heart, is it not?”

The moment you nodded, her arms were thrown about your neck, pulling you into the warmth of her chest and letting your heart beat against hers.

[thebunnybabyblog]

Moony's Books and Scrolls (1 of ?) Remus bookshop au

Summery: Fresh out of Hogwarts your job prospects and living arrangements were both not meeting standards. You find yourself in front of a worn down, almost abandonded building, could this place solve all your woes or will this rip open past wounds?

Info: Fluff with future smut so please 18+ only This is an au! The canon story does not apply here!

Word count: 2400

Life at Hogwarts had came and went in what seemed to be a flash of lightning. The time spent behind those castle walls will fill your mind with fond memories for life, but a few months after graduation, it was time to get the hell out of your parents house and be an adult on your own. It wasn’t like you didn’t love your family but you really missed the “freedom” Hogwarts awarded you. 

It had been nice to loaf around for a few months but the lack of privacy was getting to you. When you were bombarded by your siblings in the bathroom, exposing your fresh out of the shower body to the people in the living room that had come over to visit your mother, you knew it was time to go. You started your search with lots of newly graduated hope but soon the shock of the real world set in. It's not that you were bad at Hogwarts, you got okay grades, but you spent a lot of time reading things that were not assigned. To put it lightly, every job you interviewed for favored someone else over you. Your high standards waivered and soon you were slugging through ads for low paying jobs just to get anything at all. 

There was one job that you kept seeing over and over though, never seeming to fill the position it was asking. The listing read as follows:

Moony’s Books and Scrolls

In need of a shop assistant to help organize, catalog and care

for magical and non-magical books and scrolls.

There is a room available to anyone willing to accept this position.

Only need to pay for your utilities, rent is included in the position.

Pay is fair and we also offer a 50% employee discount.

Location: 310 Meadows Lane 

“Oh my god? A room and a 50% discount on books? I should have read this listing sooner!” you exclaimed. Gripping the newspaper tightly in your hands, you sat and thought for a moment. For how things had been going, this seemed like the solution to all of your problems. You glanced up at the clock on the wall beside you, 4:15pm. If you left now you could make it over there before they closed. 

Gathering your things and some money for the bus, you made your way out the door, hardly able to yell, “Leaving about a job! I won't be home for dinner! Love you bye!” The door slammed loudly behind you as you dashed down the drrive.

You were excited the whole bus ride over there. Filled with hope and desperation, you thought how cute your life could be. Living in a sweet little bookstore, reading all the time, saving so much money, living a simple life. No more mess and chaos of your siblings running around going crazy messing with your things. Finally some peace and quiet.  Your daydreams were cut short when the bus driver announced your stop was coming up. “NEXT STOP MEADOW LANE” he yelled over the p.a. Gathering your bag, you headed off the bus. 

Walking up and down the street as the evening sun began to set, you wondered if this was a scam. “Where the hell is this building?” you pondered. “310 Meadow Lane,” you repeated over and over. The crumpled newspaper held tightly in your hands, you looked as if you were a crazy person with a treasure map. You finally stopped in front of a building you had passed over and over. “This can’t be it?” you said in confusion. 

Looking back at the wrinkled paper and back at the building again, you finally saw what seemed to be where numbers used to live above the door but were now just faded outlines. The once deep blue first floor and door were now faded and chipping exposing the wood underneath. The once beautiful picture window that you were sure held wondrous displays was completely filled in with stacked books, hardly able to let the soft light of the room inside peek through the thin cracks. The rest of the building above was brick and looked normal besides a leaky AC unit sticking out one of the right windows. “Was the shop owner's room or the potential employee’s?” 

You hesitated, “If I get kidnapped and sent off to some dungeon my parents are gonna be so pissed.”  Almost turning on your heels to head back to the bus, the thought of so much wasted bus fare and time made you stop. You reached for the door knob and turned it slowly. Halfway through the door you yelled out, “Ummm hello?” 

Your eyes had nowhere to rest. There were things everywhere and on everything, shelves filled with disorganized books, stack after stack piled to the ceiling and papers scattered all over the floor. Not to mention the overcrowding of furniture and tables that were also covered in books. You couldn’t even tell where the register was in all this mess, if you could  even find something to buy. 

With no response you let out a louder “Hello? Is anyone here?” Instead of the response you heard an “Oh shit!” and the sound of a tidal wave of books falling over on the second floor. The staircase to the left soon had books and papers tumbling down like an avalanche on the side of a mountain. You were stuck in shock as you watched all the dust begin to settle and the store go from chaos to quiet in a few moments. The silence and shock were broken when you heard a deep groan from above you. 

Your feet moved before your mind could tell you to go. You ran up the stairs dodging and weaving the fallen debris and books on the steps. You didn’t need to think where to look because right in the center of the upstairs room was a huge pile of books that were assumed to be, just moments ago, tall stacks. “Oh my god! Are you okay?” you yelled out to the pile. “I’ve been better, love, but I'm okay. Just Leviosa this off me please, I can’t move,” he called back. 

You reached for your back pocket but were met with nothing. In your rush to get out the door, you left your wand on your bedside table. “Fuck!” you yelled out. Running over to the pile and getting down on your knees, you slung book after book off of this mystery man. “I'm so sorry! I forgot my wand rushing over here! But I'll get you out!” Soon a hand is revealed ,then his midriff exposing his scarred stomach, and finally the book that revealed who was trapped underneath.

“Oh god!” you yelled out. “No it's Remus I’m afraid. Nice to meet you” he said with a pained laugh. “Wait I know you don’t I?” he asked as he flung himself up to a seated position. The sudden jump forward made you fall back onto your butt in a huff. He grabbed his head in pain with the quick movement up. “Damn I really did a number on myself, er?” he said in a hushed, embarrassed laugh, clearly jumbled up from the tumble. 

“Let me look!” you yelled a little louder than you meant and cupped his face in your palms. You checked him over, not realizing you could feel the soft scratch of stubble against your skin. He almost protested to the manhandling but as he looked up to the sweet, concerned expression plastered across your face, he couldn’t help but smirk. 

To clear any more silent embarrassment he asked “So what's your prognosis doctor? Shall I live to see another day?” You released his cheeks and started shifting through his soft ginger hair. “I don’t see any blood so I think you're okay? You do have a good lump up here though,” you said in a matter-of-fact tone. It wasn’t until the silence of your fingers running through his hair had you realized just what you were doing. Embarrassed, your hands shot back to your lap and your fingers nervously intertwined with one another. 

A blush set wide across your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to manhandle you like that.” “No it's quite alright, love, I’m glad you were here to rescue me.” he said, trying to ease your embarrassment. “I’ve made a mess in here, er?” “Just here?” you said quickly. You immediately wanted to punch yourself in the face. He couldn't help but laugh at your very obvious observation. “I really didn’t mean to say that!” you tried to explain but he just waved his hand while laughing. “No no, it's alright! This place is a mess and has been for a while. I’ve actually been in search of someone to help me sort this place out.” “Oh, well, about that.” You pulled out the crumpled bit of newspaper and showed the ad to him. “That's why I’m here.” 

He watched your hands as you presented the ad as if you were presenting your golden ticket to the factory. Eyes trailing up your arm and back to yours, he was silent for a moment and it made you nervous. “Oh God he definitely remembers me,” you thought to yourself. A few years into your time at Hogwarts, you made a mortifying embarrassing confession to him. You would help out in the library in your free time, since you spent so much time reading there and you knew the place like the back of your hand. Whenever you were there, you'd see Remus and his friends, Remus more than the others, and you developed a crush on him. 

“You’re hired,” he said bluntly. You were taken aback by the sudden declaration and not a large from the pit of his stomach. “What?” you replied, deadpan. “I have been begging and pleading for someone to come help me take on this insanity and I've had people run from this place once they get past the front door. The fact that you have even made it upstairs is enough for me.”  You looked at him with blank, wide eyes. Not even interviewed, sitting in a disaster zone and you didn’t even know if he knew who you were. “Are you sure?” you asked, “You haven’t even asked anything about me! You don’t even know my name yet.” Your words came out fast and jumbled. You weren’t even sure if he understood you. “Well of course I know your name... it's y/n,” he said in a confused and almost hurt tone. “We used to hang out in the library all the time. Don’t you remember?” 

Your brain played your most embarrassing moment in your mind as soon as that exited his lip. In a moment of unthinking on the final day you'd see him in the library ever, you stopped him on his way out and blurted out what your fifth year brain thought was a good idea. Unlike how it plays out in silly romance novels, he in fact, did not reciprocate your grand feelings or even get a chance to. As soon as your confession left your mouth, Sirius and James burst through the doors, having heard the whole thing, and laughed and drug Remus out with them. He was never even given the chance to say “No, I’m sorry, but I'm flattered,” or a “Ew, no way in hell.” You still laid up at night and it passed through your mind and makes your skin feel icky. He shifted awkwardly on the floor and stood up. 

You watched as he arose still planted on the ground. He grew a few extra inches after he left Hogwarts. He was tall as a teen, but now, almost in his mid-20s, he towered over you. You stared for a moment as he extended his hand down to you. With a slight flex of his hand, you snapped out of your trance and slowly placed yours in his. 

“Well of course I remember you Remus...” you said meekly, “I just wasn’t sure you really remembered me.” To you, you were just the little annoying underclassman that floated behind him like pepe le pew floating behind penelope but he considered the time in the library hanging out? He guided you up from your seated position. You were merely inches from him. 

Looking up to his soft, tired eyes and growing lump on the top of his forehead, you couldn’t help but release a little laugh at his expense. You covered your mouth with your hand and he just looked at you in a sense of amusement. “I’m sorry, I really don't mean to laugh, especially after you just offered me a job, but you have a comically large knot on your head,” you said, pointing at the lump that used to be much smaller looking on the ground.  

He only laughed in response and for a moment it didn’t feel so awkward for you, both lost in a silly moment together. As the laughter came to an end you asked if he had any  Wiggenweld potion somewhere. “Ahh, I think I actually do in the bathroom upstairs.” He turned to his left and began to walk for the door that you assumed led to the apartment upstairs. 

He stopped before he reached the door and turned back to you, “I can show you your room as well.” He played with the sleeve of his sweater before adding, “I mean, if you actually want the job.” It wasn’t until that moment did you realize not only would you have to work with him, but now he was your roommate. Something in you screamed this was a bad idea but the part of your brain that was goo called the shots. There was no way you were not taking on this challenge. “I’d love to see it,” you replied back to him with a warm smile. Butterflies filled your stomach as you watched his face change. He radiated warmth across the room, like the way warm autumn sun filled a room in the afternoon. It felt as if you floated across the room, almost forgetting you were walking through a war zone. You had a feeling the back-breaking work that was soon to come would be the death of you, but finally getting to see what Remus Lupin looked like with bed head was worth whatever was about to come your way.

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: yakuza!kento x f!reader, reader and nanami don't meet yet but she's in the estate! again, w employer

the next day at your door, you're met with several bags of food. strawberries, loafs of bread, eggs, yogurts, and foods that would surely last you over a month. your employer's chauffer smiles before leaving you with an ankle brace, an ice pack, and three different ointment creams saying, "it's from the boss."

you are utterly met with amazement.

"kento," your employer's voice rings in greeting, "how's my favorite businessman?"

"it's good to hear from you, stephen." kento chuckles, "and no need for the exaggerations, I've been meaning to talk to you again."

"Oh really?" your employer chuckles, "well, so have I. how about we meet up for a game of golf? I'll have the kids stay with their grandmother. there's been someone I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"always straight to the point, huh steph?"

"you know me." he grins, "but you'll be glad this time."

by the time you return to your employer's home, you are already well from your ankle and back on your feet. those ointments he gave you really made a difference, allowing you to recuperate at a faster speed, using some free time to enjoy a book or two you've been blessed by the extra money he had given you to spoil yourself in some of your hobbies. if anything, you hoped to one day own a library as big as the ones you've seen in the movies. own a home where you can comfortably move and cook pastries without worries and live at peace.

several days pass and you're now days away from visiting your employer's friend. you don't know much about him since you'd never ask, but you assume the man is a friend from a similar line of work.

"since I got my kids new clothes," smiles you employer, "I thought I'd buy you something too. it's a dress. and shoes. they should be comfortable and your size, but if you find something wrong, please let me know and I'll make sure to get it changed." there was no amount of kindness in the world your employer had for you. you think it might have been because of what had happened the other week, or he'd seen how much his kids missed you while you were away. whatever the case was, when you tried on that summer dress, you felt you.

the arrival at your employer's friend's house was swift. you didn't see the man, but a few staff members had selected a few goods and treats that just made it impossible not to want to hold a picnic for the children outside. with a blanket and the help of the children, all of you settle for holding a picnic underneath a large tree. the estate of your boss' friend was admirably beautiful, with plants and free space to roam for what felt like acres. and the children at your side were overjoyed at the sight of sandwiches, pastries, fruit, and goods children generally loved to indulge in.

from a distance, you employer chuckles.

"what's so funny?" kento asks, confused for a moment as his friend crosses his arms, shaking his head.

"it's nothing. I was just admiring how happy my kids are with that girl. you know, the nanny I have for my kids. she's a good woman, makes a man think how happy she'd be in a place like this."

"is that your way of getting rid of your employees?" nanami raises a brow, trying to humor the situation in the air. "I told you-"

"-wait till you see her," kento is almost surprised by his friend's words, the certainty makes the bottom of his stomach swirl in curiosity. "but... try not to scare her, okay?"

[cherryc1nnam0n]

| The God and the Cat | Avenger!Loki x Reader

Cw: None, fluff, reader being a chaotic bisexual with Wanda, Loki getting scratched, sassy reader

Summary: When Loki's girlfriend turns into a cat he does everything he can to help her

Hi! This is my first try at writing Loki, I hope I nailed it and that you like it, if you'd like more of this then let me know!

It was a regular day at the Avenger's Tower, Loki was coming back from reading a book at the common area, taking long strides back to his room

Opening the door he stepped in, turning around he saw a pair of eyes looking at him, but the pair of eyes belonged to a white cat sitting on his bed

"Oh? Hello there, who are you?" He went closer to the cat, who narrowed it's eyes at him "What-"

"Really? You don't recognize me Loki?" Your voice spoke from the cat

He stepped a bit back, but then kneeled in front of you, inspecting you closely

"Y/n? Is that you?"

You rolled your cat eyes, narrowing them again

"Yes, of course it's me!"

"My darling you look... Adorable"

You sat down on his bed, taking the infamous loaf form, making Loki audibly coo at you

"Will you tell me what happened dear?"

"Well, I may have or may have not, read a spell that wasn't exactly what it said it was" you avoided his eyes, knowing the look he was giving you

"Darling, what have I told you about reading spells?" He massages his temples

"I know! I was just curious"

"Well, looks like curiosity in this case, turned you into a cat" he pet your head, making you pur but soon you tried to scratch his hand away "A devious cat, huh, looks like the name "pet" fits you perfectly now"

You hissed loudly at him, making him laugh

"And where's the book where you read that from? Maybe I can find a way to revert it"

You looked nervous, frantically looking at his eyes

"Uhm you see, the thing is, the book uhm, burnt in flames"

Loki's face dropped, pinching his nose, an exasperated sigh left his mouth "Well, now we'll have to find someone else to help us, let's go my beautiful cat girl"

He held you in his arms, taking in how soft your fur is and how warm you are, your purring was loud and strong "Oh for the Norns, you're the most beautiful cat I've ever seen"

You nuzzled into his neck as he walked out of his room, he had a mission, find Stark to see if he could help you

"Brother! What is that beautiful animal you have there?" Thor's voiced boomed as he approached his brother

"Hello brother, we may have a little bit of a dilema" you moved in his arms, climbing his shoulders "This cat, is Y/n"

Thor's eyes could've left his sockets, looking back from you to Loki and again

"You must be kidding brother, is this another one of you illusions?"

"Nope, it's me Thor" you spoke, making him look at you "I'm sure you've seen something like this before"

"I mean yeah but, why you? What did you do Lady Y/n?"

"She read a spell from a book that then auto-destructed itself" he said with a sigh

"Oh, well I would suggest going with Tony for some help but I assume you're already on your way there brother"

"Indeed we are Thor, so get out of our way before I scratch your face" you answered too sassily for Loki's taste, but it made him laugh nonetheless

"Let's go my little sassy cat" he said walking away from Thor, you climbed his shoulders again and hissed at Thor.

...........................

At the Lab...

"Stark! We need your assistance!"

Tony looked up from what he was working on, maybe another update to his suit or something like a new tech, who knows

"What is it horns?" He took off his protective glasses to look at him "You do know animals are not allowed in the lab right?" He said referring to you

"Animal?! You're calling me an animal?!" You hissed at Tony

"Y/n? Okay what did you do Bambi?"

"Me? Nothing, she read a spell from a book, we need help to turn her back into her normal self"

"Hah, normal, there's nothing normal in Y/n" you hissed again at him "Put her over here, I'll take a look at her"

Loki placed you on a table, you sat down licking your left paw, looking around everything seemed smaller, well yeah you are smaller

"Okay let's see" he put on his glasses and stretched your neck, humming and nodding, then took a look at your paws, sharp claws adoring them, he then made you stand up and took a look at your back paws, he grabbed your tail and-

"HEY!" You scratched his hand away, hissing loudly

"Sorry! Just needed to check your whole anatomy" he defended himself "Seems like you're a normal looking cat but with the ability of talking"

"Yeah we know that Tony" you replied "I need help to turn back into a human!"

"Well with that, I'm not of much help I'm afraid, you'll have to see someone else for that"

.........................

"Oh my goodness you're cute!" Wanda's voice was super high pitched when she was talking to you, holding you against her breasts

"This is nice, I could get used to it" you purred as her hands held you so nicely against her

"Well that's enough" Loki said grabbing you but you scratched his face entirely, jumping to Wanda's arms again, hissing at him "Why?!" He said in pain

"I think she likes me more" she said snuggling you into her breasts again, a smug smile on your cat face

"I think she likes something else" he groaned "Can you help us, witch? I need my lover back"

"Okay fine, I'll see what I can do" She set you down, you whined at the loss, wanting more affection from the pretty witch

She moved her hands, red magic emiting from them as she encapsulated you into it, making a cocoon like thing around you, when you finally came down to the ground again, you were...

Still a cat, but this time, you couldn't talk, only meow and emit natural cat noises

"Wanda what did you do?" Loki said picking you up as you desperately tried to talk again, but to no avail

"Oh shit, I think I took away her ability of talking" she scrunched up her face

She quickly reverted the spell and your melodic voice came back

"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT- Oh my voice is back!" They both looked at you "What, oh I'm still a cat"

"I'm sorry guys, I don't think I can do anything else, you might need to see, someone else..."

"Oh no, not him please"

...........................

"So..." Strange's voice said "What brings you here mischief?"

Loki sighed, showing his cat girlfriend to the sorcerer "My girlfriend is a cat"

Strange's eyes widened as he inspected you, your big eyes looked at him expectantly "So? You're gonna help me or what?" Your voice made him flinch, he was hoping it was a joke from the god

"Oh uhm, well I think I may have seen something like this already" he disappears and comes back with a huge book

"Hey that's the book I read it from!" You said as Loki stepped closer, you jumped on the table, sitting in front of Strange as he read through the book, finding what he was looking for

"Found it" he started to read "Oh..."

"Something the matter?" Loki asked

"I hate being the one carrying bad news but" he sighed "This is not a spell, it's a curse" you gulped nervously

"So what? Am I supposed to kiss someone to turn back human?" You looked at Loki who shook his head

"No, can you please listen?" He sighed again "You're cursed to be a cat... For one thousand years, until you finally turn into your human self again and die..."

You felt your world crumble around you as he spoke those words, your only reaction was to run away, sobbing

"Y/n wait!" Loki said but you just ran away...

You felt someone come behind you, you had found an empty balcony to weep in, looking outside at the world

"I can't believe I'm so stupid... Now I have to live as a cat... Alone... For an eternity" you sobbed

Then you felt someone nuzzle into you, you looked at your side to see

"Loki? What did you do?" Big green eyes looking at you, he was a black cat, a little bigger than you, nuzzling into you

"If the love of my life is cursed to live as a cat, then I will stay here, to accompany her, for eternity"

You licked his face, as in giving him a kiss

"But, you don't have to do that, Loki you're a god"

"I don't care, I would rather give up my place as a god to stay by your side" you felt more tears coming in, so you nuzzled into him now

Knowing that no matter what, human or cat like, Loki would forever be with you... Loving you...

"Hey guys?" Strange's voice made you both look "I think I found it"

Hope you liked it guys, let me know if you want anything like this again ^^

[ferns-n-ravens]

visualisation of conversation then allegiance with the queen 🛡👑

followed the instructions in clovenstone where this was mainly a visualisation of my own making, but had the potential to carry over from the otherworld. think it lasted just over 20 minutes even though it felt shorter.

began in the forest and quickly arrived at the church, which had a little wooden fence around it. i wanted to go inside but knew i mustn't be distracted. found it easy to walk backwards clockwise (thought it was anti but oh well) and met... well, i don't know that he was the man in black, or at least not with the appearance i expected. he was a goat-man and did not give me his name, but promised to guide me to the fairy queen.

the path, of course, was working against me with lots of hills and even a massive crater, but i quickly passed through (even temporarily gaining wings), which is due to His presence

when we arrived at the door in the mound, he said he could go no further but wished me luck. i went in.

first there was a hall which led into the Hall, not exactly guarded. i started to take things in, the long tables with ghostly figures, but was quickly summoned to the throne. the queen knew my name but asked me to state why i was there (though i think she knew). i told her about the book and how i wanted to do things properly. i also had to restate why i wanted to practice witchcraft, so i told of my feelings of being from both worlds, wishing to have magic in my life (not adventure? joy, peace. magic, always). i mentioned my request for the favour of curing me and retold of the promised offerings.

it is important to note that this whole time, it felt like there had been wisps of influence from Somewhere/Someone else, but now (and this could also be the melatonin kicking in), things were increasingly feeling like a surprise to me, and not of my own doing.

i asked for her name but i will learn it later. she told me that the hall was full of my ancestors, and that this was a very ancient path i wanted to follow. did i know what i was getting into? i answered truthfully that no, but i wanted to learn. she responded that i must pledge.

somebody brought over a beautiful knife and i had to cut my palm and pledge myself to her, doing her bidding as long as it was in my capabilities. at the last second, someone put a book beneath my hand and i smeared the blood onto it.

next, i was instructed to drink from a wine chalice, though she somewhat told me it was ambrosia. at this point, it really felt like there was the surface conversation i was creating AND the real thing beneath it. anyways, the liquid was red and i drank it all, almost greedily.

that was on my left. on my right, now bread appeared, a whole loaf but with a slice already cut. i ate it, again practically stuffing myself.

when i was finished, she told me to kneel and then announced that i was officially a part of her fairy court. she said i must act wisely from now on, and i got the impression that my education would continue with the devil, though perhaps not her.

i then stood, and turned to everyone in the hall, who clapped and cheered. my physical body was starting to go in paralysis and the dream world was spinning in front of my eyes, but the queen told me i could now leave.

i bid all my farewells and met the goat man again, who was suddenly very warm and congratulated me. i then roused myself from the vision and instantly went to write this down.

out of respect, my language was very formal, until i was taking part in the communion when i started asking questions. she seemed very kind though, and almost amused with me at times. very wise, very knowledgeable, and very ancient. appearance is hard to note, but she started off almost as a butterfly woman (antenna included) but i think simply human looking by the end? quite fair, with brown or auburn hair? makes me think of the 3 of pentacles. she wore a white dress with certain embroidering of course, though i am unsure of the colour

anyways, seems like this is now official. :) 🌟🌘

[alstroemeriadissonance]

On imperfection.

Something more sobering for now. Or maybe a little sweet?

This bit is set during Vyn and Rosa's getting to know period. One of the bits I love reading about in Tears of Themis is how Vyn actually relentlessly pursues Rosa, only for her to read his words as something that friends say to each other (man, such overly amorous friends...)

The sorry sight that Rosa pulled out of the oven was quite...sorry.

Ugh. There goes my surprise for Dr. Richter.

What was supposed to be a moist chocolate cake turned out a very dry loaf with burnt edges. Certainly not something to serve someone who knew his way around desserts and pastries.

This was a dumb idea. With a heavy sigh she gingerly removed the baking tray and swiftly placed it by the damp cloth laid over the countertop, just quick enough for the heat to not sear through her oven mitts and burn her hands.

Last week, upon expressing her intent to read up on criminal psychology to aid her in her work, the doctor had suggested he lend her books related to subject. "I have a curated selection specifically for beginners," he had said when she broached the subject during one of her stints as his teaching assistant. "I can drop them off your place when I am in the area."

She had almost forgotten the doctor's kind offer until she received a text message the other day, that said

I will be there this weekend. I was thinking I should pay a visit to your home with the books I mentioned, once I am done with errands. Would that be alright?

As if on impulse Rosa thought of making something for Dr. Richter as a way to repay him for the wonderful homemade cookies he served her during one of her visits to his estate.

Yet sadly, the effort had resulted to this. A burnt loaf.

Rosa threw a glance at the oven that also displayed the time.

Dr. Richter is set to arrive an hour from now.

There was simply no time to bake another one. Dejected, Rosa put on her oven mitts again and decided to hide her attempt in the oven, pretending she never baked anything in the first place.

===

When Dr. Vyn Richter arrived, not only did he come with the books, but he also brought an armful of gifts: a thermos of black tea, some of his homemade cream puffs, and for some strange reason, a bouquet of flowers.

His gold eyes eagerly appraise Rosa's apartment as soon as he entered, as if studying its occupant based on the furniture of choice, knickknacks strewn about in places, color choices...

"It's not as comfortable as your house, Dr. Richter," Rosa said, slightly embarrassed at seeing her home being assessed so intently, and by a psychiatrist no less. "Please do make yourself at home."

"I am sorry for imposing on you," Dr. Richter said in his soft, soothing voice. He placed the bags containing several books, thermos and pastries on the glass table set in the middle of the living room, but held on to the bouquet.

"Oh no, no, you're not imposing at all!" Rosa protested. "If anything I'm very grateful for your time. I'm sure you've been busy."

He smiled gently, his wispy silver locks framing a smile that could warm every woman and their grandmother's heart. "For you, Rosa, I am never busy. You can even call on me anytime, without any appointment.

"I will come for you whenever you need me."

Those words, coupled with the sight of him holding a delicate bouquet of cream-colored alstroemeria lilies and peach roses, made him look less like a doctor and more like a noble prince.

The sight took Rosa's breath away. A blush had bloomed from her neck to her face before she recovered her wits about and laughed awkwardly. "I--I'll keep that in mind, Dr. Richter."

"Also, here are some flowers from the garden...I hope these are to your liking." He tenderly placed the bouquet in Rosa's arms, as if today was a special occasion with something to celebrate.

"These are beautiful," Rosa breathed in admiration. Upon closer inspection, the lilies and roses were so perfect--it was apparent that they were taken care of so lovingly by whoever tended to them.

"Please, take a seat. I'll put these in a vase."

===

Unbeknownst to Rosa, Vyn was studying her intently as she arranged the flowers in a glass vase--specifically, where she was going to put the flowers.

Will she place them in a non-descript corner of her home? Or in her bedroom, perhaps?

It was to his immense delight to see that she had placed the flowers in the most prominent part of the living room: the windowsill of the centermost window. It was a spot that is immediately visible upon entering the apartment; and also visible from most other areas in her home including her loft bedroom.

He was admiring the view--or rather, the way one of his creations was leaving an indelible mark in the abode of his beloved--when he noticed the whiff of newly baked chocolate batter. It was unmistakable. Years of practicing the art of making desserts and pastries had made the scent a familiar one.

"Rosa?"

"Dr. Richter?"

"Did you bake something this morning?" He made sure to take on a more innocent, inquiring tone.

Rosa paled. "Um...No..."

"Oh?" Vyn planted his elbows on the glass table, and rested his chin on steepled fingers, smiling. "My nose tells me otherwise."

Finally Rosa relented with a sigh. There was no point lying to him, anyway. She eventually showed him the incriminating evidence of her earlier failure.

"This is not unsalvageable as you thought," Vyn said upon closer inspection of the slightly burnt loaf that was hidden in the oven. "Do you have a bread knife?"

Using the bread knife that Rosa handed to him, Vyn deftly sliced off the crusts, revealing a more moist cake inside.

"You technique is not the issue," Vyn said. "You only needed an oven with a more even heat source."

"Oh, that's not too bad," Rosa murmured as she confirmed that the cake underneath the crust was indeed moist. "But still...it doesn't compare to anything you have made so far," she said resignedly.

"I am flattered, but do not count yourself out just yet," Vyn said with a reassuring smile. "May I take a look in your fridge?"

After inspecting the contents of Rosa's refrigerator and clearing with her if he could use them, Vyn had placed the following on the kitchen table for assembly: cream cheese, cream, honey, strawberries, canned peaches.

"Hmm. We also need brandy. Or some other similar spirit."

"I don't have it, but I can take a quick trip to the store downstairs to pick up a bottle," Rosa was somehow eager to help.

"That would be most appreciated," Vyn replied. "I will make sure to compensate you for the trouble."

As soon as Rosa left him to his devices to buy a bottle of brandy, Vyn sauntered back to the living room, admiring the traces of her that was purely evident in the choice of colors: bright sunshine-y yellow tones; and the way the furniture has been arranged to let in the maximum amount of light.

It was very Rosa.

He spied a silk pillow placed on one end of the sofa. Vyn picked it up and felt its softness in his hands. He imagined Rosa's head resting on the pillow as she rested on the sofa, or as she watched movies...

He brought the pillow to his face and breathed in deeply.

There were traces of the same scent that he could smell on her hair. Her shampoo, perhaps?

He held the pillow close. Vyn thought it was quite silly of him, to be so desperate to cling to just any traces of Rosa he could get his hands on without bothering her directly for it.

But then again, he was already far too smitten for his own good.

I am too far gone now, Vyn thought as he reveled in Rosa's scent.

He planted a reverent kiss on the silk pillow.

Too far gone.

===

Dr. Richter was already chopping the fruit when Rosa got back with a bottle of brandy on hand.

"That was fast," he remarked as he assembled the ingredients on the kitchen table: finely chopped strawberries and peaches, hand-whipped cream, soiftened cream cheese.

The cake that Rosa had made had the crusts removed and divided to two, each piece on its own plate.

Rosa placed the bottle of brandy beside the other assembled ingredients. "What are you making this time, Dr. Richter?"

"You will see." A cryptic smile.

Rosa then eagerly watched as he layered the ingredients over each piece of her chocolate cake: a drizzle of brandy; a generous topping of cream cheese; a layer of whipped cream with the strawberries and peaches mixed in.

"And there we go," Dr. Richter murmured as he placed the last of the strawberries on top of the second cake. "Trifles." He smiled.

"I want to taste it now!" Rosa was about to reach for a fork when he held her hand down.

"Now, now, these need to be chilled first," he said softly. "Patience, my dear Rosa."

The touch of Dr. Richter's cool fingertips over her hand took her by surprise, and she could not help but blush.

Rosa was too rattled to notice, but Dr. Richter's gold eyes glinted in satisfaction at the sight of her getting flustered at his touch.

===

"Do you like it, Rosa?" Vyn asked as he watched Rosa take a bite of the trifle, a spoonful of cake loaded with cream, brandy and fruit.

"Mmm, these turned out way better than I expected." Rosa chewed happily on the chocolate cake that she initially had given up on.

Vyn couldn't help but laugh at the remark. It was so ironic but still felt right at the same time.

"It's thanks to Dr. Richter's magic!" She then sipped on the black tea that he brought along in his thermos.

"This actually makes me glad that I botched the cake this morning," Rosa confessed.

"Oh? Do tell me why," Vyn prompted as he took a bite of one of his cream puffs.

"Well..." Rosa paused, giving thought to her words. "If the cake went without a hitch, I probably wouldn't have known that some of the stuff in my fridge could be used to make these easy desserts." She grinned, impishly. "Now I have something new that I can serve if ever I have friends come over.

"Also..." Rosa's face blushed a bit. "I wouldn't have seen you transform my cake into something more wonderful.

"This happy accident...this imperfection. It makes me happy."

Vyn's eyes widened by a fraction, and found himself at a loss for words for a brief, sweet moment.

===

Back in his home, Vyn started up his dictaphone for his usual self assessment.

"I am finding myself pushing boundaries, testing as to what extent I can get away with, when it comes to her."

His voice wavered a little. Then he continued, "I have also started to take notice of more minute details about her, and every single thing that I learn about her--"

A certain blip in his assessment monitor has turned red. "--makes me fall for her more, and more..."

He sighs, trying to calm himself down. Eventually the red blip has normalized into a more benign blue.

"When I saw that she placed the flowers I gave her in a place of honor, I could not help but let my hope blossom that maybe, perhaps, there is a place for me in her future."

"But."

"She has shown me, unknowingly, where I am immensely flawed.

"In imperfections, she sees wonderful opportunities and welcomes such flaws with open arms.

"Whereas I could not stand my own imperfections and the imperfections of others.

"I think...this is why she is perfect.

"Maybe too perfect for me. That I do not deserve someone as wonderful such as her."

[anonymousewrites]

There's a Beauty; There's a Beast Chapter One

Chapter One: Oddities of (Y/N)

            A rooster crowed, awakening the small French village. From a small house on the edge emerged (Y/N). Watching as the sky lightened, she sang as she descended the front steps of her cottage and passed through the garden.

(Y/N) “Little town, it’s a quiet village, Ev’ry day, like the one before, Little town, full of little people, Waking up to say…” (Villagers) “Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!”

            As (Y/N) made her way through town, she greeted each villager kindly, even if it was not reciprocated.

(Y/N) “There goes the baker with his tray like always, The same old bread and rolls to sell.”

            Handing some money to the man, she bought a loaf and placed it in her apron.

(Y/N) “Every morning just the same, Since the morning that we came, To this poor provincial town.”

            “Good morning, (Y/N),” said a man.

            “Good morning, Monsieur Melville! Have you lost something again?” replied (Y/N).

            Melville frowned. “I believe I have. The problem is I can’t remember what.” He sighed. “Oh, well. I’m sure it will come to me. Where are you off to?”

            (Y/N) smiled, her (E/C) eyes alighting with joy. “To return this book to Monsieur Poe. It’s about to lovers in fair Verona.” As she turned and continued on her way to Edgar Allan Poe’s small library, she passed the schoolhouse where the boys were entering for lessons.

(Schoolboys) “Look there she goes, that girl is strange no question.” (Headmaster Hawthorne) “Dazed and distracted, can’t you tell?”

            Ignoring the unkind words, the attractive woman simply enjoyed the fresh air as she hopped across stones to avoid falling into a stream.

(Villagers) “Never part of any crowd, ‘Cause her heads stuck on some cloud, No denying she’s a funny one that (Y/N).”

            (Y/N) hustled through town, trying to be as quick as possible to avoid the villagers.

(Various Villagers) “Bonjour, good day, how is your family? Bonjour, good day, how is your wife? I need, six eggs, That’s too expensive!” (Y/N) “There must be more than this provincial life.”

            Finally, she entered the library of Monsieur Poe. He was sitting at his desk, writing his latest mystery with Karl sitting across his shoulders. Hearing (Y/n) enter, he looked up.

            “Ah, h-hello, you finished the b-book?” asked Poe uncertainly, pulling his book to his chest uncertainly.

            (Y/N) smiled, used to his anxious ways. “Yes, have you any new ones to read?”

            “No, my mystery is not perfected yet! You must read an old one for now,” he hurriedly said, not wanting her to read an unfinished story where they might guess to killer.

            “All right.” (Y/N) picked up her favorite book. Although not written by Poe, it was a lovely story filled with romance and adventure. As she was heading out the door, (Y/N) turned back to the write and remarked, “Your library makes our small corner of the world feel big.”

            Poe brightened at the compliment and began writing quickly, wanting to complete his book now that someone was excited for it. (Y/N) left, returning to the bustle of the village, effortlessly weaving through people even as she read the novel in their hands.

(Villagers) “Look there she goes, That girl is so peculiar, I wonder if she’s feeling well, With a dreamy, far-off look, And her nose stuck in a book What a puzzle to the rest of us is (Y/N).”

            As (Y/N) continued reading, she arrived at a particularly enjoyable passage.

(Y/N) “Oh! Isn’t this amazing! It’s my favorite part because you’ll see, Here’s where she meets Prince Charming, But she won’t discover that its him, ‘Til chapter three!”

            (Y/N) passed by a salon where two young men were looking at items in a shop.

(Margaret) “Now it’s no wonder that her name means ‘beauty,’ Her looks have got no parallel.” (Gogol and Ivan) “But behind that fair façade, I’m afraid she’s rather odd!” (Margaret) “Very different from the rest of us.” (Gogol and Ivan) “She’s nothing like the rest of us!” (Margaret, Gogol, and Ivan) “Yes, different from the rest of us is (Y/N)!”

            As (Y/N) stopped to play with a puppy, two men watched her from horseback up on a hill overlooking the village. One gazed through a jet-black spyglass that matched his shoulder length hair while the other simply rode next to him.

            “Look at her, Sigma.” The raven-haired man smirked, his eyes following (Y/N) like a predator gazes at prey. “I am determined to have her.” He lowered the spyglass, revealing deadly, red-violet eyes, and passed it to Sigma, his associate. “She is the only pure person left in this sinful land. She is an angel, and I shall not let anyone taint her.”

            “Ah, yes, but she doesn’t seem to like you, Fyodor,” Sigma said uncertainly, not wanting to make Fyodor too upset.

            Fyodor merely smirked, a sinister air settling over him not unlike the way a hunter pauses right before pouncing. “No obstacle can remain in my way for long. I always obtain what I desire, and I desire (Y/N).”

            The pair rode into town, people moving out of the way in order to let them through.

(Fyodor) “Right from the moment I met her, saw her, I said she’s angelic, and I fell, Here in town its only her, Who’s pure enough for me, So, I’m making plans to woo and marry (Y/N).”

            They ride pass the salon where the Ivan and Gogol see Fyodor and excitedly head outside to try and gain his attention.

(Ivan and Gogol) “Look, there he goes, Isn’t he dreamy? Monsieur Dostoevsky, Oh, he’s so cute! Be still, my heart, it’s hardly beating, He’s such a tall, dark, strong, and handsome brute!”

            The two men jumped back as the horses kicked mud towards. Fyodor ignored their attempts to get him to recognize them. Sigma simply glanced back and sighed.

            “It’s never going to happen,” he said, before quickly following after Fyodor.

            Fyodor walked past the botanists and bought some flowers as he glimpsed (Y/N). As they continue on their way, Fyodor hurried to push his way through to them.

(Various Villagers) “Bonjour, Pardon, Good day, Mais, oui, You call this bacon, What lovely flowers, Some cheese, Ten yards, One pound.” (Fyodor) “Excuse me.” (Villager) “I’ll get the knife.” (Fyodor) “Please let me through!” (Various Villagers) “This bread, Those fish, It’s stale, They smell, Madame’s mistaken, Well, maybe so.” (Y/N) “There must be more than this provincial life!” (Fyodor) “Just watch, I’m going to make her my wife!” (Villagers) “Look there she goes, She is so strange but special, A most peculiar girl, perhaps unwell, It’s a pity and a sin, She doesn’t quite fit in, But she really is a funny one, A beauty but a funny one, She really is a funny one, That (Y/N)!”

            Finally, Fyodor pushed to the front and caught up to the girl he’d been chasing. “Good morning, (Y/N),” he said, “How lovely to see you.”

            “Fyodor,” the (H/C)-haired beauty replied politely.

            With a charming smile that most of the singles in the village would have fallen for, Fyodor handed her the flowers he had bought. “For your dinner table. Shall I join you this evening?”

            Uncomfortable with the attention she was receiving, (Y/N) answered awkwardly, “Sorry, not this evening.”

            Hoping to catch her in a corner, Fyodor said, “Oh? Do you already have plans?” He knew full well she did not. The hunter was hoping to trap his prey.

            “Well, my father and I were planning on having a family dinner,” replied (Y/N), thinking quickly. Before Fyodor could get another word in, she walked off.

            “Moving on?” said Sigma, approaching his associate.

            Fyodor looked over at him briefly, the malice and danger in his eyes enough to quiet Sigma in a moment. “My angel is intelligent and tricky. I would not expect anything less from her. It will just make it all the more satisfying once she is mine.”

            Meanwhile, (Y/N) had finally made it home where her father was mending a music box. It depicted him and his wife back in their old home in Paris before he and his child had moved. Although an intelligent and polite man, Fukuzawa was often thought of as a snob at times by the rest of the village because he came from the city instead of growing up in the country.

(Fukuzawa) “How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold on to, Never easy, but we try, Sometimes our happiness is captured, Somehow a time and place stand still, Love lives on inside our hearts, And always will.”

            Looking up, he saw his daughter enter. “Ah, hello, (Y/N). Would you please grab the—” He was cut off when she handed him the instrument he needed to tweak the music box. “Thank you. And—.” Once again, (Y/N) held up a gear. “No—, well, that would work, thank you.”

            As (Y/N) began to clear up some of the mess of tools and pieces scattered about the table, she paused. Frowning in a questioning manner, she asked, “Father, am I strange?”

            “Strange? Why do you believe that?”

            “People talk.” (Y/N) shrugged.

            Fukuzawa sighed. He was disappointed that his daughter had to deal with these comments. “This a small village, unfortunately full of small-minded people. However, it is safe.” Seeing (Y/N)’s face fall, he continued. “In Paris, I knew a woman like yourself. People thought she was different from them and mocked her. Until, one day, they found they wanted to be just like her. It will work out, (Y/N).”

            She smiled, knowing it was a story of her mother. She could barely remember her, but understanding parts of her made (Y/N) feel not alone in her own strangness. Because of her oddities, (Y/N) had never managed to grow truly close with any of the village children, even when growing up. Feeling a sense of familiarity with her mother her extremely important. It helped ease the feeling of loneliness that sometimes descended on her after hearing townsfolks’ comments. “Can you tell me more about her?.” (Y/N) deeply desired to know more about her mother but could tell it was a tough subject for her father.

            Fukuzawa paused to think for a moment. “Your mother was…fearless. Fearless.”

            Smiling, (Y/N) continued helping him pack up so he was ready to go to market. Together, the father and child brought the boxes to the cart hitched to Philip, their horse. As Fukazawa mounted the steed, he took his daughter’ss hand.

            “What would you like from the market?”

            “A rose,” replied the (H/C-nette), “Like the one in mother’s painting.”

            Fukuzawa smiled fondly. “Every year is the same request.”

            “And every year you fulfill it,” countered (Y/N).

            “Of course.” Turning to the horse, Fukuzawa flicked the reigns as (Y/N) waved goodbye.

            (Y/N) then got to work on doing the laundry. She headed down to the washing station where few women were still working. Instead of scrubbing each piece individually, she had put soap shavings into the clothing which was then piled into a barrel pulled around by a horse. Everything then tumbled together to clean the clothes while (Y/N) had time to read. A young girl, curious and innocent, came up to her.

            “What are you doing?” asked the girl shyly, watching (Y/N)’s strange contraption go around.

            Smiling at her, the bookworm answered, “The laundry.” Seeing the girl look curiously glance at her book, (Y/N) gestured for her to come over. The girl excitedly sat down next to them. (Y/N) began slowly going through sounds with the girl, teaching her to read.

            Headmaster Hawthorne passed by and scoffed at the sight. “What on Earth are you doing? Teaching another girl to read? Isn’t one enough?”

            Other people’s attention was piqued, and the young men began to get a mean idea into their head. They grabbed the barrel full of (Y/N)’s clothing and dragged it away from the water. (Y/N) shot up and cried for them to stop, but they went ahead and dumped the clothing out onto the road. The villagers laughed cruelly as (Y/n) hurried to gather the clothing. Monsieur Poe was luckily there to assist her.

            “I’m sorry I didn’t arrive early enough to help,” said Poe quietly.

            (Y/n) shook their head. “It’s not your fault. They would have continued.” She finished gathering her stuff and quickly headed away from the crowd that had gathered.

            While the ordeal had been going on, Sigma had noticed and quickly left to alert Fyodor. The man in question was sitting in a café and sipping coffee when his servant associate approached him.

            Bowing respectfully, Sigma said, “There is a certain angel in need of rescue, sir.”

            “Wonderful,” commented Fyodor, smirking, mind already whirring with plans and strategies for getting what he desired. Calculating that (Y/N) would already be heading home, Fyodor went straight there.

            Upon seeing Fyodor, (Y/N) smiled, trying to do a simple greeting before getting inside, but alas, she had no luck.

            “I heard you had trouble with the headmaster.” Fyodor placed his hand on the (Y/N)’s garden gate, keeping her from entering. “He never liked me either. I was too clever for him.” (Y/N) pushed by him, too tired to deal with him. Frowning in annoyance at not being acknowledged, the raven-haired demon of a man followed them in. “Would you like a word of advice? These villagers will never trust the change one woman is trying to bring.”

            “All I wanted was to teach a child to read!” cried (Y/N). She felt humiliated, angry, and in no mood to deal with Fyodor’s advances.

            “And you could. You need to ally yourself with someone powerful for them to listen to you.” Fyodor moved closer, “I could bring you that. Marry me and people would listen to you.”

            “I’m not interested in marriage!” (Y/N) was disgusted. Although it was an undeniable fact that Fyodor was handsome, intelligent, and powerful, three qualities which many of the singles of the town found incredibly attractive, (Y/N) didn’t want him for a husband.

            Fyodor scoffed, gesturing around him to the village surrounding them. “Look around you. People who don’t get married are shunned. You already have experience with that. I can make all that go away.” He brushed the back of his hand down her cheek gently. “You could have everything you desire: money, revenge on those moronic villagers who wronged you, the jealousy of all others for being mine, whatever you want could be yours.”

            “I may be an outcast, but I have more self-respect than to becomes your trophy,” snapped (Y/N). She stormed past Fyodor and entered her house, slamming the door before he could get another word in.

            Fyodor turned and left. Most people would be upset at being so openly rejected, but he understood that Plan A hardly even works out as planned. Knowing that (Y/N) wasn’t tempted by power made her purer and more alluring to Fyodor. Replaying the conversation over in his head, he made note of what angered (Y/N) the most and began plotting his next attempt to seduce her to his side. This was a minor setback. After all, nothing ever stopped him from winning in the end. Nothing ever would.

            (Y/N) watched in disgust as he walked away with a cunning smirk. The (H/C-nette) was appalled at the idea of being his spouse.

(Y/N) “Can you imagine? Me, the spouse of that evil, villainous… Fyodor’s trophy, can’t you just see it? Fyodor’s trophy, his little wife? Ugh! No, sir, not me, I guarantee it, I want much more of this provincial life.”

            She gazed out her window at the rolling hills and vast forest, longing to explore and learn of all the places they’d read of.

(Y/N) “I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, I want it more than I can tell, And for once it might be grand, To have someone understand, I want so much more than they’ve got planned…”

            Sighing in defeat since her dream was most likely a hopeless one, she closed the shutters and prepared for bed as night fell. I hope Father is doing well, she thought. (Y/N) always worried for Fukuzawa when he was gone.

l

            Fukuzawa frowned as he continued through the woods. It was dark out, a storm was beginning to rage, and he had finally realized he did not recognize the woods he was in. Being lost in unfamiliar territory was dangerous, even for a man as calm and collected as Fukuzawa. When he came to a fork in the rode, he had a feeling he needed to go left, but unfortunately a tree had been struck down and lay burning. The silver-haired man had no choice but to go right, deeper into unknown land. He held the Philip’s reigns tighter as snow began to fall.

            Snow, he thought, in June…A strange occurrence indeed.

He paused when he heard a twig snap. A shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Whatever was out there was circling him. His eyes narrowed as wolves began to move onto the snowy road. One sprang at him but he beat it away with a cane he carrier with him. To avoid further conflict, he snapped the reigns, prompting Philip to race down the path. Unfortuntaley, his cart crashed. The wolves howled and ran after him. Deftly avoiding their attacks, he mounted Philip and spurred him on. Fukuzawa could not afford to pay attention to where Philip went; he was too busy watching for sneak attacks. When he glanced forward again, he saw an old castle looming ahead.

            If I can make it through this gate, it is unlikely that the wolves will follow. And then I can regroup and make it back to my dear (Y/N).

With the wolves snapping at him, Fukuzawa pushed through them and into the courtyard, leaving the wolves to growl and pant at the gates. Getting off his horse, Fukuzawa led to him to the water trough and hay bales.

            “Thank you, Philip. There seems to be everything you need here. Rest, I will speak to our unknowing host.” Giving the horse an affectionate pat on the head, the silver-haired man walked up the grand staircase. Hopefully my host is not too alarmed at such a late-night guest. I will make it known that I mean no harm to the first servant I see. Being surrounded by such dangerous woods. Surely, they would understand a traveler’s plight. Fukuzawa knocked on the doors, and they swung open. “Hello, I did not mean to intrude.” He stopped, seeing no one was there. How did the door open? Wary, he continued inward, calling out so someone would hopefully hear him. “Hello?” The sound echoed around him in the dark entry hall. “I was attacked by wolves. I’m seeking shelter from the storm.” Not even a whisper responded. No flicker of movement. Nothing to suggest people lived there. “Is anybody here?” He walked to a table and picked up the candelabra for more light. The candelabra had interested grooves and designs etched into the silver surface. It almost resembled a face. Lovely work. I must take note of such fine work next time I’m sculpting. Fukuzawa began to walk through the rooms. Occasionally he thought he saw a slight movement, but when he turned to investigate, not a soul was to be seen. He decided to try to catch what was possibly moving. He stood very still, and once he saw a tiny movement, he whirled around. The lighted candelabra went out from the sudden movement. Cursing in frustration from the darkness, he rummaged in his pockets for matches. Damn, they must have fallen out when the cart crashed.

            “Don’t worry sir! I can get it for you,” said a bright voice that seemed to come from right in front of him. Suddenly, the candelabra lit up again, revealing that the face etched in the metal was moving.

            Fukuzawa froze before collecting himself. “Ah…thank you,” he said slowly. This place is cursed! he realized in alarm. He set the living candelabra down upon a nearby table which held a clock before rushing to the door and bolting down towards Philip.

            “Tch, look what you did.” The dark wooded clock beside the candelabra commented. “Always messing everything up. It’s a miracle Dazai has kept you around this long, Atsushi. He should have broken you during one of his fits already, useless as you are”

            “I thought I was helping, Akutagawa!” said Atsushi, the candelabra, mournfully. “I never meant to scare him…”

            Outside, Fukuzawa was hurriedly mounting Philip in order to escape. Although the candelabra had seemed polite, red flags were going up in the silver-haired man’s mind. Objects becoming alive often meant curses were around, and curses were never something to mess with. As he galloped towards the gates to leave, he saw a gazebo with roses growing over it. It will only take a moment, and I promised (Y/N) one. He descended from his mount and walked into the gazebo. Fukuzawa walked into the gazebo, planning on grabbing a rose than quickly departing. He reached up once he saw a beautiful, blooming rose that he thought (Y/N) would appreciate. He plucked, not knowing it would seal his fate. A dark shadow dropped from the ceiling of the gazebo behind Fukuzawa. Philip instantly sprinted away, leaving his master. He froze, unable to move. He heard its growl from behind him as it closed in on him. (Y/N)…

[alwaysachorusgirl]

Sunday in the Kitchen with Frederick

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1110

For: covers the baker square for @adarafaelbarba 's fall moodboard bingo

TW: none

Author's Note: This is set in the Cat Daddy Frederick verse, but takes place two months after "Almost Perfect", so Buttercup is not in the picture yet. I wanted to jump back in the timeline again and explore earlier moments in their relationship. So, you're all getting some cute baking fluff.

Tags: @madamsnape921 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @prurientpuddlejumper @thatesqcrush @welcometothemxdhouse @raulesparza4eva @teamsladsandgents @rosequcrtz

Frederick entered his home, cane in one hand, shopping bag in the other. He inhaled as he put the bag down and removed his jacket. The scent of warm apples and pumpkin were coming from the kitchen. His ear caught the sound of music; was that “The Time Warp”? He chuckled to himself, and headed for the kitchen, shopping bag in hand.

You were swaying to the music as you finished peeling apples and dropping them into the sauce pot on the stove. Frederick could have sworn it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. You’d been together for two months, but you had already insinuated yourself into his life like you had always been there. Whenever you were there, the house didn’t feel cold and empty like it usually did. When you asked if you could decorate for fall, Frederick has found it impossible to say no. You had quickly filled the house with fairy lights, scented candles, garlands of silk leaves, pumpkins of various sizes and colors; and that included the kitchen. Fairy lights were hung around the ceiling with the leaf garlands woven into them. It gave the kitchen a warm and cozy glow, and to Frederick, you looked like an angel, standing in the middle of it all, apron, and oven mitts on, pulling a loaf of pumpkin bread out of the oven. You placed it on a pot warmer to cool and smiled when you turned and saw your boyfriend standing there.

“Frederick! You’re home!” You took off your oven mitts and made a beeline for him, throwing your arms around his neck and placing a welcoming kiss on his lips.

“I could most certainly get used to that kind of greeting,” he smirked, and held up the bag. “Your emergency supplies, my love.”

“Thank you, Frederick,” you said, taking the bag from him. “The store wasn’t too busy, was it?”

“Surprisingly no; the young lady at the checkout said it’s always slower when the Ravens are playing. All the regulars are either at the game or are at home watching it on TV.”

“Sounds like my hometown; well, I appreciate you running out anyway. If I had taken better inventory of the ingredients, you wouldn’t have had to.”

“It was no trouble, my dear. I took the liberty of picking up a few extra things, as I saw they were on sale.”

“Thank you, Frederick, that was very thoughtful of you.” You put the bag on the counter and started removing its contents. The eggs and butter that you had run out of were there, along with extra sugar, flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, vanilla extract, and pumpkin puree. You smiled at that. “I see my pumpkin bread is a winner with you.”

“It is absolutely delightful and puts Starbucks to shame.” He looked over the countertop that covered with bowls, measuring tools, and ingredients. “Is there anything that I can help with?”

You thought for a moment. “Would you mind mixing the dry ingredients for the muffin batter?”

“Not at all, my love. How do I go about doing that?”

“Just follow the recipe, it’s easy,” you tried to reassure him, handing him an extra apron. “Here, I’ll help get you started.” You grabbed a bowl and a mixing spoon and placed them on the counter in front of him. You then moved all the dry ingredients to the same area, along with the necessary measuring cups, and the book stand that was holding up your 3-ring binder where you kept your recipes. You double checked the measurement for the sugar, filled the proper measuring cup, and dumped it into the bowl. “It’s just like high school chemistry, follow the recipe step-by-step, and you should get the desired outcome.”

“And if I screw up there’s no chance of me blowing up the kitchen?”

“None whatsoever, and there’s no dangerous chemicals here. And no one is grading you, so if you do make a mistake, it’s not a big deal. With cooking and baking, you learn by doing. I have faith in you, Frederick, you can do this.”

Frederick nodded and got to work while you went to check on the apples boiling on the stove. He carefully measured and mixed the dry ingredients as you instructed and began stirring them together. Hmm…perhaps this baking thing isn’t so hard, he thought to himself. That was until he stirred a little too vigorously and knocked some of the unmixed flour out of the bowl and onto to himself. He paused his motions and looked down at himself. Some of it was on the apron, some of it was on his shirt, and he could feel some of it sticking to the lower portion of his face.

“Umm…Y/N?”

You stopped what you were doing and turned to him. You put a hand over your mouth, but there was no stopping the giggles that erupted from your lips. Frederick was covered in flour and looked like a sad puppy that was anticipating being yelled at.

“Oh, Frederick, you’re adorable!” You grabbed a wet washcloth and started gently wiping the flour off his face. “Don’t worry, it’s fine, I get flour on myself all the time.”

“But the mess—”

“Don’t worry about the mess,” you said softly, putting a finger to his lips. “We can clean it up, or…” an idea suddenly popped into your head, “make a bigger one.”

You reached in the nearby flour bag and grabbed some with your fingertips.

“What are you—” Frederick was once again cut off, but this time by additional flour landing directly on his face. At first, he was taken by surprise, but then he saw the devilish look in your eyes, and a sly grin formed on his lips. “Hmm… you do know that two can play at that game, right?”

“Do your worst.”

Frederick grabbed handful of flour and launched it at your face. You responded in kind, and you both carried on like that for a few minutes, laughing like school children, until you both looked like kitchen ghosts, and the floor was becoming slippery.

“Okay, Frederick,” you held up your hands. “I surrender.”

Frederick took the opportunity to grab you around the waist and pull you close, placing a passionate kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too Frederick. See? Baking is fun!”

“I couldn’t agree more, my love.” He then glanced around at the kitchen. “I supposed we’re going to have to clean this up, now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but shower first? We can share the hot water…”

“Sounds like a perfect way to spend an afternoon, my love.”

[ray-ray-writings]

Hello!! First off love everything about your blog! Will definitely be following for a long while!~

My favorite person is Techno so I was wondering if I could request Techno having to share like a little shack with his crush (maybe the two were out on adventures and it got dark) how would he react or feel about having to share a bed and stay close to stay warm? (His cape and crown are my favorite) thank you so so so so so much!!~

(Oh goodness! Thank you so much! That really means a lot to me <3)

But it would be so cute and awkward lol. Like the two of you go out on adventure that you both thought that wouldn’t take longer than a few hours and you would be back to your respective homes before sun down…. Yeah that didn’t happen. Turns out even the Human GPS gets lost every once in a while. The two of you get so turned around that by the time you’ve figured out where you were, the sun is going down and you two are too far away from home to want to take the risk to book it, so together you decide to build a tiny little shack so that you can bunk down for the night before making your way home safely in the morning. 

The shack is nothing impressive. It is literally just a cobblestone shack. There is enough room in the shack for your two beds and a furnace for warmth. You two make two beds and blushes coat your faces as you realize you have to set them down next to each other, but you do so because you have too and totally not because you want to. Nope. Not in the slightest. Totally not like you could literally build another shack right next to this one so you two could have each have your own. Nope it had to be this way. 

So you two have dinner together, nothing fancy, a loaf of bread and a few pieces of meat. You two chat about everything and nothing, avoiding the topic of what is going to happen when you go to sleep that night. But soon enough you get done with dinner and you both are yawning a bit and you know it’s time. You two stand there awkwardly for a bit, too shy to make the first move. It’s not until you let out a huge yawn does Techno make the first move. “You ready to go to bed?” He asks, causing you to nod. “Okay…” Slowly the two of you lower yourselves onto the bed and move so that you both are on the very edge of your respective sides. You awkwardly lay there and stare at each other, laying on your sides just staring at each other. “Well… Goodnight” Techno murmurs out. “Goodnight Techno” you answer softly. After a few moments, you close your eyes and try your best to go to sleep. But it is no use. A cold shiver shoots down your spine as you lay there and a chill begins to creep into your bones. You’re cold and you begin to shiver. You try to keep the chattering of your teeth quiet, not wanting to disturb the pigman beside you, but it doesn’t work. Techno has really keen senses and of course noticed the fact your body slowly got colder and you began to shiver. He ponders for a moment before taking a deep breath and putting himself out there. “Do you want to cuddle?” He asks really really softly. You’re kind of shocked at the question, but you peel one eye open and scan his face. He seems really nervous but genuine. So you slowly inch yourself forward and plant your face in his chest.  On instinct, Techno’s arm moved and wrapped around you, pulling you even closer. As soon as he did that, you would let out a sigh of relief. The warmth of Techno slowly seeps back into your bones and you were no longer cold. “Thanks Techno.” You murmur sleepily, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you and sleep crawling into your mind. “Anything for you Y/N. Anything for you” 

You wake up the morning in bed alone, but you’re not cold. You sleepy move to stretch but find your arm confined by something. You open your eyes and find yourself wrapped up in Techno’s cloak. Memories of last night flood your mind and a soft blush lands on your cheeks. Not wanting to give up the little bit of comfort that you have now gained in the bed, you simply bury yourself in his cape, taking a deep breath in to really get his scent in your nose, before closing your eyes and dozing off once again. 

The next time you wake up is to the sound of the door opening and soft footsteps entering the shack again. You feel something heavy sit down next to you on the bed and a soft handle slowly reaches up and caresses your side. You hear Techno let out a soft sigh before his hand moves and rests on your shoulder and carefully gives you a shake. “Y/N,” he murmurs, “you have to get up. We need to get a move on.” A soft yawn escapes your lips as you fully wake. Your eyes flutter open to meet his beautiful amber eyes that were already staring at you with such warmth. “Good morning” you whisper out, not wanting to break the tension in the shack. “Good morning… Did you sleep well?” “Yeah. Thanks for letting me cuddle you last night and for wrapping me in your cloak before you left. I really appreciate it.” Techno’s cheeks burn with a soft heat at your words, “Of course. I couldn’t have my best person freezing to death could I?” and now it’s your turn to blush. You two stay there for a few more moments before you gently begin to move. “Okay… You’re right, we have to go.” 

Techno helps you out of bed and then checks to make sure that you two have everything. At one point, you try to give him his cloak back but he insists you keep it. “Just until we get home… I know you get cold easily” and you bury yourself further in his cape with a soft smile. As you two begin to walk back home, you decide to be bold. You reach out, grab his hand, and intertwine your fingers. Techno is surprised, but doesn’t pull away, only gives your hand a little squeeze. 

You two don’t talk about what happened until you get back to the house. You two would dance around it for a few moments, avoiding the topic but finally after you’ve had enough, you just lean up and plant your lips square on his. It surprises Techno, but he instantly kisses back. The two of you definitely become a couple after that. Philza then comes over later that day and is just like “Oh god finally! I was about to lock you two in a closet together, now I don’t have to thank god”. It makes both you and Techno blush, but curl into each other. I guess it was kind of a good thing that you two had to stay in that shack together huh?

[levihantrash]

Priorities

For Levihan week Aug 2021 Day 2 prompt: confessions

Also based on a cute ass tumblr prompt by @sanothebreadpup <3 hope you like it!!

Summary: It’s been a while since Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long. Erwin suggested going to Levi for advice on managing prioritises. Instead, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

note: no smut but lots of spicy poetic touching

cross-posted on ao3 🤪

-----

Hange wanted to confess. It had been months since they knew that their best friend status with Levi could potentially be tweaked to include just a bit more romance, and they knew they had to be the one to take that step. As much as Levi was quick-witted on the battlefield, he wasn’t quite the risk-taker in ordinary settings. In fact, Hange figured Levi would sip tea beside them until he was greying and would probably be as content with the arrangement.

Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long.

Out-of-the-blue, though characteristically charismatic, Erwin gave the soldiers a pep-talk on how they need to know what to prioritise (i.e., humanity's victory).

Inspired, though the speech’s intended audience was clearly for new recruits, Hange tried to prioritise their tasks. Within a day, they got overwhelmed, the list being more of a reason for delay than for action. Moblit, well-meaning as always, tried to get Hange to focus on one at a time but that was unthinkable to them. One at a time meant that the confession would never happen. There was too much to research. Too much at stake. Too much for one inconsequential confession.

Unknowingly, Erwin saw Hange wringing their hands, muttering to themselves in the dining hall.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t prioritise the important stuff,” Hange grumbled. Perking up at the mention of priorities, Erwin advised Hange to seek Levi’s guidance.

“Levi only does one thing at a time once he sets his heart on it.”

Eager for a chance encounter with someone they technically already hung out with on most days, Hange asked Levi for help. More accurately, in perhaps the most roundabout manner, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

“For research,” Hange said, almost convinced by their own performance.

“You can do that yourself,” Levi said reasonably.

While starting a task was horrendously difficult, Hange was not one to give up once they began on one.

“You’re the only one here who can bake.”

Eyes narrowed, arms folded, Levi was not buying the compliment. He had a pile of papers left to read. Hange’s whims could be settled by someone with more well-matched interests and time management.

“Go ask Petra.”

Hovering nearby with another paper for her captain to sign, Petra noticed Hauge's crestfallen face.

“It’s not about the baking being done but who Hange is doing the baking with,” Petra whispered, as discreetly as she could.

"I'm busy," Levi said, loud enough for Hange to hear, heedless of Petra’s input.

“Alright.” Hange sighed, internally fuming that they should’ve found a more legitimate excuse. Bluff out something like Erwin’s orders. Levi followed Erwin’s orders without question. Hange’s requests were dealt with more scepticism. Not that Hange had the best track record of requests.

In the end, Hange prepared the baking supplies, because even if titans couldn’t stomach cake, it was an experimental endeavour. Practically speaking, they could give some baked goods to the juniors. Maybe even gift some to Levi.

Stumbling into the kitchen with too many ingredients in hand, they found Levi leaning against the entrance looking positively sullen. Upon spotting Hange, his face morphed into a more acceptable, neutral expression, nodding towards them.

"I thought you were busy!"

Levi shrugged, grabbing some of the ingredients from their arms. "I was. Didn't you want to bake?"

“I guess?”

The sudden change of mind was too abrupt for Hange to wrap their head around. A hopeful glow had unfortunately begun growing in them. Levi was being exceptionally nice today. No doubt that he was usually nice. Just not will-bake-for-your-titans kind of nice.

"Erwin said that you are really good at prioritising tasks,” Hange said, slowly digging through the cabinets for the utensils.

"Huh. Let me guess—he wants you to learn from me."

Hange scratched their head absent-mindedly. "He did tell me to ask you."

"I'm not actually very good at sticking to a task,” Levi admitted, wondering where in hell Erwin got the idea that he was focused. If he were, the paperwork would have been submitted, instead of lying around, flapping aimlessly in the wind before Petra (and Oluo) offered their generous help. He refused—every time. Levi was simply good at keeping a blank face and reporting to Erwin that he needed more time, which Erwin must have mistaken as a sign of seriousness than a sign of procrastination.

“You are! You finished work before coming have, didn't you?”

Levi didn’t breathe out a word, silently pouring through the book of recipes.

"What do you want to bake?"

Hange didn’t mind his lack of response, pondering over his poor cover-up question. "Something easy. What about bread?"

"Bread isn’t easy."

Difficulties translated into the promise of adventure for Hange. Pumped up, Hange prodded at the picture of an unremarkable loaf of chocolate banana bread.

"Let's do it anyway!"

“Suit yourself.”

-----

The small touches were the ones that were hardest to ignore. Hange felt the accidental-deliberate brush of Levi’s elbow when he reached over to choose an ingredient. Other times, he guided their hand with the right amount of strength for stirring the batter. His fingers over their stirring hand were firm and reassuring.

“You’re stirring too fast,” Levi said patiently.

“You’re distracting me,” Hange replied half-heartedly.

“Oh, am I?” The fingers left Hange’s hand. Just as Hange was about to lament their moment of folly in allowing that to happen, the fingers reached out towards their face. Forcing in a breath, Hange felt Levi’s thumb rub out a chocolate stain at the side of their lip.

“How did the chocolate get there?” Levi murmured, more to himself than to them.

“I was snacking on some of the chocolate bits a while ago…” Hange said cheekily, licking the side of their lips only to realise that Levi’s thumb was still there. Their tongue brushed his finger, and in that contact, Hange was ready to collapse from self-generated sexual tension.

Though his eyes widened noticeably, Levi quickly resumed his blasé expression. Rubbing the rest of the stain out, he walked to the tap to wash his hands. There was some hesitation, before he hurriedly turned on the tap, letting the water run for two seconds over his hands before going back to his position next to Hange.

Unsure as to whether to be offended or pleased by the sight of Levi cleaning the evidence of their encounter with such carelessness, Hange busied themselves with breaking eggs and separating yolk. If it had been Levi with a finger lined with fudge, Hange would’ve licked it spotless. With permission, of course.

To pay him back in kind, Hange plotted their own routine of touch as well. The touches became bolder, starting innocently enough. From casually brushing away hair that was poking Levi’s eye, to going behind Levi who was busy slicing up bananas and placing both hands on the counter. Their arms were now on either side of him, conveniently taller than him so that their head could peer right over his shoulder. The cutting didn’t cease—it only got more rapid, the bananas becoming neat circles in a matter of seconds. Hange let out an impressed whistle, hands not leaving the counter.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Oh, am I?”

One drop of the knife, and a swift turn later, Levi found himself staring straight into Hange’s bright, beautiful, heavily eye-bagged orbs.

"Hange, do you know why I'm in the kitchen at 2am baking for some shit-brained monsters?"

“Titans don’t have—”

“Because I have priorities.” Levi interrupted, not allowing Hange to clarify what the physical anatomy of titan subjects entailed.

Hange blinked, maintaining an oblivious exterior. “Your priorities include titan research?”

“You know what I was going to say.”

“Somewhat. I want to hear you say it out loud, though.”

Grimacing, he concentrated his gaze on Hange’s collar instead. Skin flushed, collarbones peeking out mischievously. Bad idea.

“You little shit.”

Their laugh was quieter, milder than the ones they let out on other days. “My favourite little shit! So what are your priorities?”

“Wiping the blades. Cleaning the toilet. Dusting under the tables. Doing laundry. Having enough tea. Baking with a scientist who thinks—”

Hange pressed a gentle hand on his mouth. “I get it.”

“Which part do you get?” Levi asked, enjoying the fact that when he moved his lips, they grazed Hange’s palm. How would it be like to replace that hand with their mouth?

“That you like me.” Hange grinned, tugging Levi by the straps of his apron just a bit closer.

An unexpected flash of clumsiness made Levi knock down the bag of flour, spilling it onto the floor. The fall clouded up the vicinity in white dust. Gaining confidence with obscured vision, Hange held the back of Levi’s head, tracing his undercut, admiring how his immaculately combed hair had come undone. An attractively dishevelled mess. Hange was in no hurry. Yet.

Levi, in a spur of restlessness, looked up at Hange questioningly. Eyeing their faint smirk, he tilted his head sideways, watching carefully for any sign of reluctance. An impatient “are you going to kiss me or not” from Hange; a straightforward command was what he needed to hear. No time was wasted pulling Hange into an urgent, searing kiss. Backed against the counter, hands cupping Hange’s face, Levi devoured the sensation. The taste of sugar, fruit, flour, and chocolate clung onto the entwinement, as Hange breathily pressed up against him. Erwin had warned them both. Love in the military meant the threat of loss. The possibility of sorrow. As he felt the rumble of Hange’s satisfying groan beneath his lips sending an unprecedented warmth through his body, he was certain. He would have loved Hange whether he kissed them or not. Death would happen, whether or not Hange rubbed his waist in soothing, awe-inspiring strokes. Right now, he would die in absolute bliss.

To be honest, Hange would’ve been disappointed if they didn’t end up fucking, or at least, aggressively kissing eventually. Erwin’s advice was only a stronger reminder that Hange was never one to be conservative. They loved Levi, as a comrade, as a friend, as the person whom they would kill for, if it meant saving his life. Still, having Levi sneak a hand into the bareness of their back, sucking their neck with a hot tenderness that made their head spin, they knew that chastity and platonic hugging could not be the only option.

“We should’ve done this sooner,” Hange said, peeling away his jacket.

“Couldn’t tell when the right time was,” Levi said, starting on the buttons of Hange’s shirt.

The door creaked open.

“This is your idea of asking Levi for help?” Erwin said, a thick eyebrow raised as he surveyed the mess.

With some willpower, he stopped unbuttoning Hange’s shirt. Lightly pushing Hange away, Levi straightened up, less than pleased with the interruption.

“Erwin, you better have something worthwhile to say if you—”

“I’ll clean this up.” Erwin, fully recovered from his shock, was beaming.

“Huh?”

“It’s about time,” Erwin said, with the proud sincerity of an unwitting matchmaker, gesturing towards the door.

“We owe you one, Erwin!” Hange waved at him on the way out, while Levi cast him a grateful, wary glance. With his hand was secure on their back, and Hange’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, there was no care for an audience. Only the smell of baked goods and unfinished business fuelled their steps towards a private space. A place where they would end up in each other’s arms—spent, sweaty, and deliriously at peace.

[mistersshelby]

removing the dagger

hi yes it's me, yes i know i haven't updated my masterlist in ages, yes i am aware i have an unfinished wip that i promised to post months ago, i'm just a stupid fanfic writer begging her audience to love her!!!! anyway!!! i have two other things in the works that I'm hoping to finish, but in the mean time this is one shot i based on ivy and tolerate it from taylor swift's album evermore. i hope you like it, i missed y'all!!! send me asks pls i'm lonely

pairing: tommy x reader

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

“We’ll be entertaining guests this weekend.”

You looked up from your breakfast plate in shock, wondering if your husband was addressing you or someone else. You gave the room a quick scan. No, it was indeed just you. “Alright.” You said hesitantly, “Who will be attending?”

He hadn’t looked up at you from his newspaper at the other end of the table. He felt miles away rather than a meter or two. “Just some business partners and their wives.” He finally looks up. You’re so unused to his direct attention you have to stop yourself from flinching away from his gaze, “You should go into town. Buy yourself a new dress.” Just as quickly as his gaze had met yours, he drops it again.

You draw your attention back to your breakfast plate, spreading butter on a scone before biting into it. “Do you need anything while I’m out, dear?”

“No thank you, love.”

The endearments don’t mean anything, this you know. It’s a formality. You’re husband and wife, and you speak to each other that way, but the words are empty. The truth is, day in and day out you watch him, you know all his routines. You hand him items before he can reach for them. Buy the book you know he’d been wanting for ages, but never got around to go to the store for. Refill the liquor cabinet before he can get to the bottom of a vodka bottle. And still. And still, he doesn’t see you. Not really. You leave the breakfast table to get ready to go into town and you know he won’t notice you’ve left until the maid clears your plate.

***

Another evening filled with pleasantries, pretty gowns, fake smiles. Men complimenting you and informing your husband how lucky he is to have such a beautiful, young wife. Your husband simply thanks them and doesn’t even look your way.

It’s not until he walks into the room that you feel you’ve been startled from sleep. He looks the same as you remember. There may be a few more lines around his eyes and mouth, but otherwise the same. Except now he looks like a walking weapon. That’s what the war had turned him into. You had kept tabs on him once you found out he had made it home from France, alive. The things you heard, the things this man that you used to love so dearly had done, well you suppose it didn’t surprise you. Tommy had always been too clever for his own good, almost too resilient. It made sense that France would have chewed him up and spit him out, kept most of the love and kindness he possessed.

But then his eyes find yours through the crowd and when he locks on you the same love and desire that had always been there, burns there now. No, the war couldn’t burn out his love for you. Your abandonment and consequential marriage that he read about in the paper couldn’t burn it out either. He’d love you until his dying day. And then he’s in front of you and words fail you, “Thomas,” You finally manage, “You… look well.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “It’s good to see you.” And he ever so gently lifts your hand and presses his lips to your skin. A chill runs through you and it takes all your effort not to snatch your hand away. His knowing grin tells you he’s noted his effect on you.

“And who are you?” Your husband interjects, noticing the affront that was greeting you before himself.

“Thomas, this is my husband, Benjamin.”

Tommy looks your husband up and down for longer than is polite before reaching his hand out to meet your husband’s, “A pleasure.” He murmurs.

“How do you know my wife, mister…”

“Shelby.” Tommy fills in for him, and then glances at you, “Your wife and I were--”

“Childhood friends.” You interject before he can finish and force a smile.

Tommy stares at you for a prolonged second before turning back to your husband, “Yes. Childhood friends.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Benjamin exclaimed, “You grew up in Oxford then, yeah?”

The confusion is evident on Tommy’s face so you jump in quickly, “Yeah! Both grew up in Oxford, isn’t that right, Tommy?”

Tommy looks annoyed at having to lie, but nods anyway, “That’s right.” He speaks with Benjamin for a few moments about business and you find yourself staring at him, the freckles on his cheeks you used to kiss so tenderly. His hair that you used to run fingers through. His eyelashes that used to tickle your skin when he fell asleep. His voice that used to whisper adorations in your ear while other women looked on with jealousy.

“I hope you won’t mind if I steal your wife for a dance, sir, I’d love to catch up with her for a moment.”

Benjamin gave him a disarming smile, a smile you hadn’t seen since he had courted you and it made your heart ache. He lifted his glass to Tommy, “She’s all yours.”

You managed a small smile as Tommy took your hand and led you to the center of the room. You could feel tears burning the back of your eyes at the familiarity of his touch. No one had touched you like this, well, since Tommy left Small Heath.

“Oxford, eh?” Tommy started, “What else did you have to lie about to become such an esteemed lady?”

You frowned, “I did what I had to do. It appears you did the same.”

He shakes his head, “I never lied about where I came from out of shame to achieve the lifestyle I wanted.” His voice is bitter, and you won’t lie, it stings coming from the only person who had made you feel like you were worth something.

“I’m not ashamed of Small Heath.”

“Everything about who you’ve married, to what you’re wearing, to the house you live in, to the lies about me suggest otherwise.”

“I didn’t lie about you because I was ashamed, Benjamin gets… jealous. It was just easier not to explain.”

“Does Benjamin have reason to be jealous?”

You looked into those blue eyes you had adored so long ago and saw the same longing and lust sitting there. Your lips part and you pause, trying to find the right words to convey that you were sorry for how things ended. That you wished things could have been different. But he senses your hesitation and his eyes go cold, those familiar walls that you had worked for years to tear down are back up in full force. You suppose it’s what you deserve.

“Forget it. Stupid question.”

“Tommy--”

“No, don’t. You’re obviously very happy here.”

And you realized as he said it that he was so incredibly wrong about that, “I’m not.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your eyes begin to water before you can stop them, “I’ve never been more unhappy in my life.”

Concern floods Tommy features, “Is he hurting you?”

You almost laugh, “No, no he’s never raised a hand to me. He’s never even raised his voice to me. He just… rarely remembers that I exist is all.”

“Well he’s an idiot then.” The corner of your mouth turned up just a bit at his crassness. “Can’t imagine having you walk around this house day in and day out looking like that and not giving you the attention you deserve.”

You have to bite down hard on your lip to keep the tears lodged in your throat at bay, “Do you have a smoke?”

He frowns, “I can’t imagine Benjamin allows a lady like you to smoke.”

“Tommy, please, he won’t even know we’re gone.” Sure enough, when you look over he’s immersed in conversation, “Come outside with me.” You tug on his arm before he can respond, weaving through guests who didn’t give you a second glance.

Once outside, you gulp in the cold air and lean against the stone wall behind you. Tommy joins a few seconds later, “Are you alright?” He asks as he reaches into his pocket and takes out his cigarettes.

“Can you tell me about Birmingham? What’s it like now?”

While you smoked, he talked about his family and the business. How Polly was doing, and Finn who you could still remember being born. Arthur and his anger problems. John and his relentless jokes. And when your cigarette was nothing more than a useless stub, you noticed there were silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

Tommy glanced at you and then dropped his own cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his shoe, “Why are you here if it makes you so sad?”

The reason you had married Benjamin was because you had promised yourself you would never have to go hungry again. You would never have to worry about someone breaking in and slitting your throat for a loaf of bread. You wouldn’t have to stare at dresses in shops anymore knowing you would never have enough money for it. You never wanted any children you bore to feel that pain either. So you had done what you thought was needed to obtain this lifestyle and now that you were here, it didn’t feel the way you expected it to.

You can’t answer him and instead you look up at the sky and snow starts to fall on your face. “It’s snowing.” You announce to Tommy. He says nothing and you get the feeling he’s annoyed with you. “We had our first kiss in the snow. Do you remember?”

He scoffs and pushes himself off the wall, “I’m not playing your games tonight, I shouldn’t have come here.”

“And why did you come here?” You call after him as he walks away, “Why the fuck did you come, eh? To rub it in my face that I made the wrong decision?”

He turns back to you and he has that cocky smirk on his face, “Listen to that Birmingham accent. Does your husband know his lady’s got such a dirty mouth?”

You don’t know why this is the remark that does it, but you take a sharp intake of breath and your lungs shudder with sobs as the tears pour down your cheeks. The smirk falls from Tommy’s face and he reaches for you, but you pull away. “Love, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“Darling?” Your husband stands in the doorway and both you and Tommy freeze, “What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death out there in the cold.”

You close your eyes for a moment, schooling your features before you respond, “I’ll be just a minute dear, Mr. Shelby was just leaving. I was seeing him off.” Every trace of the tears was gone from your voice. Tommy would be impressed if it didn’t mean that you had clearly needed to practice seeming happy and upbeat when you were breaking inside.

It’s so easy how quickly he loses interest, Benjamin, and turns back to go inside without another glance. “Why did you come here?” You ask Tommy again.

He sighs, “I had hoped that seeing you happy would give me the closure I needed. Unfortunately, seeing you choose misery over me has only made me feel worse.” He says bitterly. Your face crumples and he steps away from you, “Goodnight, my love.”

When he’s gone you wish to scream and cry and you hate him for coming here and shattering the glass walls you had built around yourself to tell you that you were fine. You were fine with your finery and your loneliness and the gin you drink when Benjamin isn’t home. How he ignores the smell of it on your breath. His deliberate silence when you know he can feel your cries shake the bed at night. You thought you had packed Tommy Shelby neatly away in the far corner of your mind where you wouldn’t find him again. Wouldn’t remember what it was like to feel loved. To feel alive. But you remember. And now he’s gone again. Just like when he left for France. Just like when you wrote that final letter to him that you were to be married.

And so you walk back into that house of stone. You murmur to Benjamin that you’re tired and you’ll be retiring early. And he just nods, barely hearing you, like he always does. And you settle into bed and stare at the wall as the house goes quiet. And finally the bed shifts with his weight and his breathing settles and he doesn’t reach for you. He never does.

Goodnight, my love.

***

The mud of the road squelches beneath your shoes and you're conscious of the way everyone in Small Heath stares at you, walking around like this, but you’d had no choice. No trace of your old wardrobe before you married Benjamin existed. He hadn’t allowed it. You didn’t want any reminders, anyway. Besides which, you had told Benjamin you were out for lunch with a friend and had dressed appropriately. When you swing open the door to the Garrison, you don’t see any Shelbys, but everyone stares at you nonetheless. You imagine word will travel fast to Tommy that you’re here.

Sure enough, as you finished your first drink, you heard the doors swing open and a hush fell over the occupants of the bar. You didn’t look up when he sat next to you. “What are you doing in my bar?” He said, his voice was demanding and cold.

“Having a drink.” You said as the bartender slid you another.

Tommy took it from your hand and dumped it on the floor, “Don’t give her another one.” He said to the bartender. “I asked you what the hell you’re doing here, don’t try my patience.”

“I was drinking that.” You said through clenched teeth.

“You’re drunk, you’ve obviously been drinking all day, surely Benjamin darling noticed that before he let you leave the house, eh?”

You turned to him, eyes bloodshot and unfocused, “I came here… Because you never told me… If you remembered our first kiss.”

He stares at you for a few moments, “You came all the way to Small Heath to ask me if I remember our first kiss?”

You blink, “Why are you just repeating what I just told you?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Yes, I remember it. Now will you go home?”

“I am home.”

“This isn’t your home anymore, you made sure of that.”

“How is what I did any fucking different from what you did? I married him to fuckin’ survive. That’s it. And you would’ve done the same in my place.” While you were talking you kept trying to get the bartender’s attention, but he was purposely ignoring you now, “Will you please tell your bartender to get me a drink?”

He leans in close to your ear and you still, “You could have married me. I could have given you everything if you had just waited.”

You turn your head to look at him and your lips are just inches from his, “I didn’t think you would come back, Tommy. So many men were dying every day, I didn’t think you would come back and I was running out of time to find someone else to marry. I’m sorry.” You don’t know if it’s the alcohol that makes you brave, but you lean into him just a little bit and he doesn’t move away. So you close the distance between you.

The kiss is quick, and you pull away to gage his reaction. But his eyes only dart from yours back down to your mouth before his fingers graze your chin and gently pull you to him again. You can’t believe how alive it makes you feel to be kissed, really kissed, by someone who wants you.

“You’re drunk.” Tommy says finally, pulling away.

“So what?”

“So you wouldn’t be cheating on your husband if you weren’t drunk.”

You snort, “I would do just about anything to feel the way you made me feel again.”

He shakes his head at you, “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. So, what? You’re just going to have an affair with me and I’m supposed to be satisfied with that?”

“What do you suppose we do instead?”

“Leave him and marry me.”

He’s so sincere, and for a moment you allow yourself to think that you could. “You know I can’t do that.” You say quietly.

He nods and lowers his head, “Then I’m not sure how I can help you, Mrs. Davies.”

His use of your married name feels like a blow, “I know you feel the same as I do when we kiss, isn’t it worth it just for that?”

“I don’t do well with sharing.” He practically snarled in your face.

“I’m his in name alone. You own me, body, soul, and spirit, Tommy. You always have.”

Suddenly, he straightens as if he’s just now realized where he is. “Come with me.” He says quickly, sharply. You practically run after him and when you get outside, you see his horse. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

“Where are you taking me?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you ever just listen to me for once?” And without asking permission, lifted you up by your waist enough to get you on the saddle. When he comes up after you, you hesitate before wrapping your arms around his waist to keep yourself steady. It reminds you so vividly of just a few years earlier, you allow yourself to sink into the memories. It doesn’t take you long to realize he’s taking you to your old haunt. An abandoned house in the middle of the woods, overgrown with ivy.

“Why are we here?” As he helps you down from the horse, your faces nearly collide as your feet touch the ground. He seems to want to kiss you, but holds back.

“I waited here for you for days when I got back.” He says, walking away from you and towards the house. “When you stopped sending me letters, I had a feeling you had changed your mind, but I still hoped.”

You blink, “You never got my letter?”

He turns back to you, now leaning against a half demolished wall, “Did you send me a letter to tell me you were marrying that wanker? I honestly thought it was kinder that you hadn’t.”

You swallowed, “Yes, I sent you a letter.”

“And what did it say?”

You sigh, suddenly you’re frustrated with him, “That was years ago, Tommy, can’t we move on?”

He laughs, but it’s cold, “For you it was years ago, I’ve been living in this hell you left me in ever since. I didn’t get to move on to palaces and dinner parties and expensive champagne. I came back here and started another war, all in the hopes that one day I could provide for you and you would come home. And all the while you’ve been sleeping in another man’s bed.”

You look down at your feet. You understand the anger and the resentment he holds. After all, you knew when you sent that letter if he survived the war he would never forgive you. But here he was, some sort of dark, fallen angel, standing in front of you. Spreading over you again like ivy, the same way he had when you were younger. “I know I can’t take back the pain I’ve caused,” He was already scoffing and turning away from you, “But I’m here now. And so are you. And all I know is that being with you again makes me feel something and I haven’t felt anything since I sent out that letter.”

“So just like that, you think everything’s fixed?” He storms up to you, trapping you against the wall behind you. “You think you can just pop back in, say you’re sorry, and everything’s all better?”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed with his display of anger, “Of course not, Tommy, I’m not stupid.” You reach your hand out and delicately trail your fingers down his chest, “I just think… That it’d be a shame to deny each other what we both want.”

Without warning his hand clamps around your wrist and slams it against the wall behind you. It doesn’t hurt, really, but he did catch you off guard so you wince anyway.

He leaned forward until his lips brushed your ear, “Who said you could touch me without explicit permission?”

A chill went down your spine at the sound of his voice and you find yourself smirking, “Don’t need permission to touch what belongs to me.” You still know exactly what to say to piss him off.

He shoves you against the wall again, “You think this is fuckin’ funny, eh?” He leans down to look you eye to eye, “Am I laughing?” He pushes himself off the wall and turns away from you, “Always a fuckin’ joke to you.”

“Tommy, I thought… I’m sorry, I thought we were teasing--”

He rounds on you, “I don’t fuckin’ joke when it comes to you, do you understand? None of this is funny to me. It may be all a big joke to you with your fancy house and your upper class husband, but I lost the one thing in my life that had value and I don’t think it’s fuckin’ funny for you to shit all over the marriage that you thought was good enough to abandon me for in the first place!”

It’s all so absurd you nearly snort, “Do you think this is fun for me? Do you think I like living with the knowledge that I gave up the love of my life for someone who is rarely home, and when he is home doesn’t even spare me a second glance? My husband hasn’t kissed me in six months.”

“And so now you think you can have both?”

Tears shine in your eyes as you gaze up at him, “Can’t I?”

You can see the internal battle going on behind his eyes, caught between wanting you and not being able to truly have you. You knew he would give in to you, though, and maybe you felt a little guilty about that but you couldn’t afford to let your mind go there. You just needed someone to touch you, someone to really, truly desire you.

And Tommy gave in. He pushed you against the wall again, his mouth finding your mouth in a lust-filled frenzy. You moan in equal parts surprise and delight as his hands roam your body, pulling you up until your legs wrap around his waist, back firmly pressed to the wall.

You might pay for this sinful offense against your marriage one day, but today you will simply relish the way Tommy tastes.

***

“You’re quiet this morning.” Benjamin notes a week later during breakfast. “Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I heard you say a word. Is everything alright, darling?”

You look up from your plate where you had been pushing your egg around aimlessly and force a smile, “Everything is perfect, darling, why shouldn’t it be?”

He watches you closely for a moment, miles away on the opposite end of the dining table. You don’t believe he’s watched you like this since courting you. Then, in a flash, the moment is broken and he returns to his paper, “We should have dinner, just you and I. I have that business trip coming up and I’d like to spend some time with you before I go.”

You try not to narrow your eyes too deliberately at him. A proper lady never thinks too hard about her husband’s motives, she just acts delighted to be considered. But this was unlike him and you would find out why. “That would be lovely, dear.”

***

Your arm rests delicately on Benjamin’s as he takes you inside the restaurant he had made reservations in. He was going on and on about the lobster and how you should get one too and what drink to pair it with and it was all so fucking boring your eyelids grew heavy with sleep. You hadn’t seen Tommy since that day at the abandoned house.

Afterwards, he had taken you on the horse until you were a mile away from the house and insisted on being dropped there.

“I can take you further, he won’t see me.”

“It’s alright, Tommy. I like the walk.”

He had hopped off his horse with you and cradled your face in his hands, kissing you goodbye, “I’m still upset with you.” He said and kissed you again, harder. He bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to make you yelp, “This doesn’t change anything.”

But it changed everything, hadn’t it? For you, at least. You understood Tommy’s anger and resistance though. Maybe this would be the only taste of him he’d ever allow you again while you rotted away in that mansion of stone. “I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage, your foreheads still pressed together, before lightly pushing yourself off him and walking down the road without looking back.

Eventually, you heard his horse walk away and you did your best not to cry.

“Darling?” Benjamin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. The two of you now sit at a small table in the corner. You’re buttering a roll absently, you couldn’t remember picking up the bread. “Darling, are you alright? I’ve been asking you to pass the butter.”

“Yes,” You said, reaching across the table with the butter dish in hand, “I’m sorry, my mind ran away from me.”

“And what were you thinking about?” He asks, taking the butter from you.

You blink, shocked that he would ask you such a thing, “Sorry?”

“What’s got your mind so occupied that I can’t seem to keep your attention?” He smiles when he says it and you realize he’s… teasing you.

“Oh, it’s nothing darling, I was just thinking about a dress I wanted to buy. I’m sorry that I wasn’t listening to you.”

He sighs greatly and for a moment you’re scared. Somehow he knows. He must know, otherwise-- “I realize that I haven’t been the best husband as of late. I don’t know what you spend your days doing, what you like, what you don’t like. I don’t kiss you in the morning or the evening when I come home from work--”

You’re shaking your head, “Benjamin--”

“You’ve been the perfect wife. Taking care of the house and entertaining guests, going out to the shop when I need something even if I haven’t asked. And I’ve ignored you. Aren’t you angry with me?”

Your eyes water and you sit back in your chair, looking down at your lap. Taking a breath you look back up at him, “You’re my husband.” You shrug, “I do what I must even if I don’t get anything in return.”

He hesitantly covers your hand with his own, “I’ll be better. I promise.” He sits back, “That friend that you went to lunch with the other day, what was her name?”

The fear returns all over again as you lightly dab at your eyes, “Martha, she’s a friend from Oxford.” The lie comes easily, too easily.

“Is she married?” Before you can answer, his eyes light up, “Oh! She must be that gentleman’s wife, the one who was at the party last week. Shelby, I believe his name was.”

Slowly, you nod, “Yes, that’s right. Martha’s husband is Thomas.”

“You should invite them for dinner, after my trip!”

Oh, fuck. “Oh, Benjamin, that’s so sweet of you dear, but you don’t have to--”

“I do.” He covers his hand with yours again, “I want to learn more about you. Your friends. What better way to do that than get to know the people you grew up with?”

You force a smile, “That sounds lovely.”

He smiles back, “It’s settled then! You iron out the details while I’m away and then just let me know which evening, alright, dear?”

“Of course.” You say, still forcing that smile. How the fuck were you going to get out of this one?

***

“Are you out of your mind?” You had summoned Tommy yet again by drinking at the Garrison and he had stormed in here ready to toss you over his shoulder and kick you out himself. But you had managed to get him to share a drink with you and you told him your new predicament.

“Well, yes, but that’s hardly the point.” He looks so annoyed with you, you almost laugh, “Please, Tommy. I’ll never bother you again.”

He snorts, “Yeah, that’ll be the day.” He knocks back the rest of his whiskey and then pushes the glass to the bartender, signaling for another, “This is really what you want?”

You bite your lip, “He seems sincere. Like he really wants to try.”

“But do you love him? Do you love him the way you love me?”

No. There would never be a love for you like Tommy. You look down at your hands. Either way you answer, Tommy will be hurt. But at least this way he could go on thinking that you’re happy. That you don’t need him. Maybe this way he’d fall in love with somebody else. The thought sent daggers through your heart, but you knew you had no one to blame for that but yourself. He should be happy, he deserved that. “Yes.” You lied.

His eyes shuttered and he looked away from you, “Alright. I’ll help you, then.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you.”

“Now get the hell out of my bar.”

You manage a small smile and nod, sneaking out without another word.

***

The door buzzed and you nearly smiled, “That’ll be the guests, darling.” You moved behind Benjamin, squeezing his shoulder as you passed, “I’ll get it.”

When you opened the door and saw Tommy standing there with a tall, beautiful woman, you couldn’t deny the hurt that rushed through you. You had asked him to bring someone, you reminded yourself, you had told him he needed to bring a fake wife.

You step aside to let them through, “It’s good to see you, Tommy. Martha. Come in.”

“Your home is so lovely,” The woman said. You weren’t sure if you just felt like she was staring daggers at you or if she was. How much did this woman know of you and Tommy? Just from the way she looked at Tommy, you could tell she had feelings for him. He had probably fucked her at some point. You ignore the painful tightening of your stomach at the thought. Tommy, for his part, seemed bored by her.

“Thank you.” You gestured for the maid to take their coats and you couldn’t help the way your breath caught as Tommy took his off. Then his hat. And his gloves. Those hands and those rings and-- You looked from his left hand to hers. They were wearing wedding rings. You supposed it shouldn’t have surprised you, they were supposed to be married. But the sight painfully stole all the breath from your lungs. You wondered if this was how Tommy felt when he saw you. You turned away from it and guided them into the drawing room, immediately going to get a drink while Benjamin bored them with talk of business.

You didn’t expect for it to hurt so much, seeing him with someone else. Even if they were just fucking, you felt like you couldn’t breathe as you stumbled into the kitchen. The kitchen staff ignored you as you braced your hands on a table, looking down at it and trying to catch your breath. They were used to you having breakdowns here. The staff liked you because you treated them like people when Benjamin wasn’t around. When he was on his trips, you’d invite them all to eat with you in the dining room and they were some of the most fun dinners you’d had since marrying Benjamin. So they let you cry in here and didn’t speak a word of it.

When the kitchen doors open abruptly, you stand immediately, expecting Benjamin, but it’s Tommy who stands there instead. “What are you doing back here?” You asked with annoyance.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, and you hate the concern that floods his face.

“You shouldn’t be back here, Benjamin might come looking for me--”

“I told him I would go look for you, he seems quite charmed by Lizzie, he won’t come looking.”

“So her name’s Lizzie then? She’s lovely.”

He’s quiet a moment, “So you’re sulking in here because I brought another woman here, something you asked me to do.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“We should go back out there,” You begin to walk around him, but his hand clasps on your upper arm and pulls you back.

“Does it hurt? Knowing I’m fucking someone else?” He whispers in your ear.

Tears sting your eyes and you realize he’s done this on purpose. He wanted to hurt you. You look up into those ice blue eyes to show him yours that are shining with tears, “Are you happy now?” You wrenched your arm from his grasp and left the kitchen, putting on a smiling face as you left.

Tommy watches you closely for most of the evening and you think that normally Benjamin might notice his predatory gaze, but Tommy was right. He’s enamored by Lizzie. They share touches and longing glances, even when you place your arm on top of Benjamin’s to signal that he’s yours. He just pats your hand and draws his arm out from under yours all without looking away from Lizzie. So when Tommy excuses himself for a smoke, you follow him out, not even bothering to excuse yourself.

“Ol’ Benjamin is really giving it his best shot with you, eh?” Tommy says immediately when you walk outside. You don’t say anything, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your anger. “Can’t say I blame him,” He continues, “Lizzie’s a great fuck.”

You close your eyes, “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what am I doing, love?” He makes the endearment sound condescending and you hate him for that.

“You’re trying to get me angry so I’ll admit that I lied to you about loving Benjamin.”

“I saw the way you looked at the wedding rings when I took off my gloves,” He inhales on the cigarette in his hand, “I don’t need you to say it.”

“Then what, you’re just rubbing it in because you’re a sadistic fuck?”

“So you are angry, then.”

“Yes!” You threw up your hands in exasperation, “Yes, I’m fucking angry that I thought maybe Benjamin did love me only to see him touch and look at that woman in there more than he’s touched me in over a year! And I’m fucking angry that you are also fucking her! I’m jealous, I’m fucking burning with how jealous I am that she gets to touch you and I don’t! Is that what you want to hear, you fucking prick?!”

God help you, he has a cool smile on his lips, “Yes, sweetheart. That’s what I wanted to hear. Would you like to go make your husband terribly jealous?” He reaches a hand out to you.

You’re frowning at him and you shake your head, “I don’t understand.”

“Sure you do, I’m helping you get what you want.”

“But why?”

He lowers his hand, “Do you want the truth or the lie?”

You swallow, “Truth.”

He brushes the back of his knuckles against your cheek, “Are you sure? It’ll break your heart.” He says softly.

You smile sadly and bring his hand to your chest, right above your heart. Your eyes glitter with unshed tears as you look at him, “Already broken.”

You almost miss his sharp intake of breath at your admission. You suppose he’s happy, happy that you were in so much pain after shattering his heart. “So?” You say.

“The truth is that,” He swallows, “The only thing that hurts me more than you not being mine is seeing you so fuckin’ sad. So let me help you.” You look up at him with those big sad eyes that practically scream at him how much you love him. He can’t stand to look another second, “Come on.” He offers you his hand again.

You place your small hand in his and he brings you back inside, not even dropping your hand as you pass your husband and Lizzie who are looking even cozier than when you left. He brings you to the drawing room in view of the dining room and finally drops your hand to go to the gramophone.

You feel Benjamin’s eyes on your back, but you don’t turn, focusing on Tommy.

A smile breaks out on his face, “I knew you’d have it.”

He holds up a record that the two of you used to listen to so often, you had had to replace the record a couple years back. A small smile forms on your lips, “Tommy, are you sure?”

When the two of you were together, you had taken a dance class together, mostly as a joke, but then you surprised yourselves when you had so much fun with it. Soon, you were choreographing dances together and Tommy was spinning you around that abandoned house. It seemed lifetimes ago and you couldn’t believe that the man who went to France and came back ready to kill any man standing in his way would still know or want to dance with you like when you were barely adults. But he’s beaming at you now, hand extended and the song is starting.

Biting your lip to hide your smile, you curtsy to him before taking his hand and he did a slight bow in response. And then he’s whisking you around the room. You can tell he hasn’t done this in a while and neither had you, but as the song picks up you lock eyes with him. You hadn’t seen him this happy since before the war. The sight sends such a thrill through you, you laugh, and suddenly you’re both in sync.

The weight of both Benjamin’s and Lizzie’s stares nearly break you, “It’s just me and you,” Tommy whispers, noticing how the light had dimmed from you just a little, “Focus on me.” And you do, losing yourself in the music and Tommy’s touch. Tommy dips you, your head falling back and upside down, you can see Benjamin and Lizzie, their eyes on you just like you thought. Tommy pulls you back up and you nearly crash into his chest as the song ends. He clutches your hand to him and your foreheads nearly touch as you both breathe hard.

There’s footsteps behind you and you turn to look to Benjamin, a smile still on your face, and his hand collides with your cheek. There’s only silence for a few seconds and it takes you all of those seconds to realize that Benjamin has hit you and before you’ve reached that conclusion, Tommy’s fist is already connecting with Benjamin’s jaw.

“Stop, stop.” You reach for Tommy to pull him off your husband, “Tommy, that’s enough!”

He had only punched Benjamin twice before you were able to pull him off and then he’s looking at you, “Are you alright?” There’s such concern in his eyes, he even brings his hands up to your face, eyes darting back and forth to assess the damage.

But your husband is still here so you push him away, “I’m fine, you should go.”

He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, “I won’t leave you with him.” He says quietly enough that you’re sure you’re the only one who heard him.

“Yes you will.” You look at him with cold, calculated calm. Your husband is still lying on the floor with stupid Lizzie coddling him, “You both should go.” You repeat.

Tommy is still staring at you and Lizzie has risen from where she was crouching next to your husband, placing a hand on Tommy’s arm, “Thomas, let’s go.”

You hate the familiarity of the touch, you’re able to tell she’s done it several times before. “Listen to your wife.” You say bitterly and that ice in his eyes is back. He simply backs away from you, Lizzie pulling him out the door.

“You humiliate me.” Benjamin says, now sitting upright and dabbing at blood at the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. It gives you sick satisfaction that Tommy had made him bleed.

“You humiliate yourself.” You say coldly.

“You danced with him like… Like you were some whore.”

You flinch at the insult, “I told you I knew him from Oxford, we took ballroom together. We were simply reminiscing.”

“You think me an imbecile,” He chuckles, “I saw the way you looked at each other. You’ve never once looked at me like that.”

Now you laugh and the sound makes him flinch, “Benjamin, when we met I looked at you like the sun and the moon set on your command, do not insinuate otherwise.” Your voice shakes with anger, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to touch and talk to me the way you talked to Tommy's wife all goddamn night. That’s why I danced with him. I wanted to make you jealous, I didn’t think you’d hit me.”

He’s shaking his head, “That doesn’t change the fact that you once bedded that man and then brought him into my house.”

You stare at him blankly, “If I recall correctly, you were the one who invited him here. And I daresay, Benjamin, with the way you were with his wife I have no doubt what you do on those business trips. I will not be made the villain when all I’ve done is begged for your love from day one.” He looks away from you at that and you relish how you’ve made him submit to you after being submissive for so long, “I’m going to bed, you’re welcome to wallow here in your weakness if you’d like.”

***

Tommy drives in silence with Lizzie next to him, quietly fuming. He has half a mind to turn around and drag you from that house himself, but he knew you’d never forgive him for that. “Was a bit daft to dance with her like that in front of her husband, don’t you think, Tom?”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, the only indication of his agitation, “Was a bit daft to flirt with her husband in front of her for three straight hours, don’t you think, Lizzie?”

“He advanced on me--”

“No,” Tommy’s shaking his head, “No, don’t give me that bullshit. You knew what she meant to me and you went in there to purposely hurt her. Well congratu-fucking-lations Lizzie, you won.”

“As if you didn’t enjoy seeing her hurting after she left you.”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know.” He said dangerously.

“Fine, Tommy,” She says, slumping in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest, “Let her destroy you again, went so well for you the first time.”

He doesn’t respond as he knows there is some truth to what Lizzie is saying. He would let you destroy him again, he would give you his last breath if that was what you wanted.

***

When you wake the next morning, Benjamin is gone. The maid told you he left in the early hours of the morning and handed you a note.

I know what he is and I know what you are. Don’t be here when I return.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Who had told him? How had he figured it out?

The answer was obvious. It had to have been fucking Thomas, trying to force your hand after you refused to leave with him. You crumpled the note and ran back upstairs to get dressed. You figured you had a few days until Benjamin came home, maybe you could still sort it out. The first order of business was going to yell at Tommy.

***

When he sees you walking down the streets of Small Heath looking murderous, he wonders what he’s done. Maybe this is a response to the previous night, but you hadn’t seemed homicidal when he left you.

“What the fuck did you tell him?” You greeted him by shoving him against the nearest building. He raised his arms in bored surrender, not wanting to cause a scene, but you didn’t seem to care about that, “Did you turn around and come back and tell him everything? Do you think I’ll run off with you now that I have nowhere to go?” Tears run down your cheeks now and he frowns in concern, “Well I won’t. I’m fucking done with you, Thomas Shelby. I don’t care if I have to beg on the streets--”

“What are you talking about?” He interjects finally. You look him over, eyes darting over his face and you can see there’s genuine confusion there. He didn’t do this.

Rubbing at your eyes, you sit on the nearest surface, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, “He knows who you are. Which means he knows who I am. He’s kicking me out.”

He gently puts a hand on your elbow, “Come inside. Please.”

For once, you let yourself be guided. He brings you inside the building that says Shelby Company Limited on the outside and then suddenly the rest of the Shelby family is staring at you.

“Tommy,” Polly says softly, staring at you with a hand on her heart, “You told us she was dead.”

You blink and then turn to Tommy who won’t look at any of you, “She was.”

Tommy Shelby had told his whole family that you were dead rather than go through the humiliation of explaining that you had left your old life behind in favor of another. Left him behind. You supposed, in a way, you had died.

Polly’s gaze drifts to your hand where you’re fiddling with your wedding ring. “Oh, Tommy. Tell me you haven’t killed someone’s husband.”

“Not yet,” The words send a jolt through you, “Stay here.” He orders, squeezing your shoulder.

“Tommy, wait,” He turns back to you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kill him before he ruins you and then you’ll have your pick of any lord you’d like. Maybe one of them will actually love you this time. Isn’t that what you want?”

It feels like a dig though you’re not sure he meant it to be one, “No.”

Sensing the energy in the room, the rest of Tommy’s family dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.

“What d’ya mean ‘no’?” There’s a bit of anger in his voice, “You don’t want to be with me, you don’t want to be a lady anymore, are you gonna live on the streets?”

“For your information, Thomas, if I wanted I could make a living for myself,” He scoffs. “But you’re wrong.”

“About what?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes glittering with tears, “I do want to be with you.” After finally uttering the words, you brace yourself for rejection.

He stares at you and then rubs a hand over his face. He begins shaking his head, “You don’t mean that.”

You walk to him and reach your hands up to frame his face. You expect him to move away from your touch, but he doesn’t. When you gently stroke his face with your thumbs he closes his eyes and you truly understand how you had broken this man in front of you, “I do,” You say again, “And I’m sorry for ever making you think you didn’t deserve me.”

Finally, he does push your hands away and walks to the window on the far side of the room, his back to you, “I still want to kill him.” He says softly.

You frown, “Tommy--”

“If you weren’t in that room last night I would have kept punching and kicking and gouging his eyes out with my bare hands for daring to put a hand on you.” His voice is dangerously low, “Is that still the kind of man that you want?” He finishes bitterly.

He would kill a man for you. The thought sends a thrill through you. “I’ve spent the last few years of my life with a man who didn’t even attempt to learn my favorite type of jam, Tommy, do you understand?”

“It’s strawberry.”

You raise your eyebrows, “What?”

He finally turns to you, “Your favorite jam, it’s strawberry. I used to wait in line for hours in the summer when strawberries were in season to get some for you.” He smiles a bit to himself at the memory, “It was always worth it for the smile and kiss on the cheek you gave me.”

Tears finally cascade down your cheeks as you recall the memory, “I’d forgotten about that.” You say softly, “Tommy, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”

“You told me minutes ago that you wouldn’t run off with me, that you were done--”

“I know,” You say, “That’s when I thought you had betrayed me, that you wanted to force me to be with you--”

“I would never force you to be with me.” He says fiercely, “I would never force this life, this fuckin’ hell, on anyone.”

You shake your head, “I know what you’ve become since you came home. Knowing all of that, knowing what you’re truly capable of, I still choose you. I know you’re my only chance of real happiness.”

He stares at you for another few moments, “So you’ll marry me, then? The whole bit?”

You smile, “I imagined this whole bit to be much more romantic, but yes, I’ll marry you, Thomas.”

“You can’t change your mind once Benjamin comes back, it’s me or you figure out your own way.”

“I’m not choosing you because of the money. I’ve had the money, all it did was make me miserable.”

He steps to you and runs a thumb over your lips, “You’re really mine then, eh?”

“You know,” Familiar mischief lights up your eyes, “Benjamin won’t be back for a few days… What do you say we drink his expensive wine straight from the bottle and fuck on every surface we can.”

Tommy finally cracks a smile, “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

You laugh and go up on your toes to kiss him. He immediately dips his head to you, breathing you in deep as he kisses you. His tongue slides along your lip until you open to him, awarding him with a soft moan. His tongue strokes against yours and you feel hot need for him pooling between your thighs when he pulls away.

He relishes the pout on your face at his absence, “Save it for Benjamin’s bed, princess.” He smirks and tugs you out of the building, lifting you onto your horse. And as he rides, your arms wrapped around his waist, you only wish you had had the wisdom to choose Tommy Shelby first.

[mmvalentine]

The Washing Machine | Jurdan

Canon complaint. Post QoN. Smut warning.

The next time we return to the mortal realm is for Oak's tenth birthday.

I do not much like leaving Elfhame these days; the mortal realm has never held especially fond memories for me. My family visits often enough, and Oak is now attending school in Faerie and returning to his parents in the holidays. Hadn't wanted to, of course, having been able to play such marvelous tricks on his mortal friends, but since he's part of the royal family Oriana insists he have an education amongst the Folk. Personally, I think it can't hurt for him to have to contend with other faerie children, either.

This year, Oak wants to have his birthday at Time Zone.

To my great surprise, Cardan declares it high time we took a break anyway, and thinks we should spend a week in the mortal realm. I can't help but be skeptical.

"The mortal realm?" I ask in disbelief. "You, Cardan Greenbriar, High King of Expense and Excess, wish to spend a week in the mortal realm?" "Sure," Cardan shrugs. "Don't worry so, wife of mine, I'm sure it'll be fun." I shake my head. "Alright you weirdo. This I've got to see."

And so next thing I know we're in the spare bedroom of Vivi and Heather's apartment. Cardan finds the whole experience fascinating for all of three days and then promptly gets very bored.

"Let's go home," he says, flopped over our bed on his stomach. "No," I reply curtly, not looking up from my book. I've got my feet up on Cardan's back, and having seen this coming a mile off, I'm not letting him bail out now.

"I've had enough now," he says. "You're the one who wanted to spend all week here," I point out. "I was wrong. I take it back. Let us depart." "We can't go yet, Oak's birthday is tonight."

"Fine," Cardan says through gritted teeth. "Let's go tomorrow." "Tomorrow is Heather and Vivi's engagement party." "Since when?" I turn the page. "Since Monday, they announced it when we got here, remember?" "No, I do not." "Would I lie to you?" I meet his eyes over the top of the book.

Cardan growls low in his chest, and his tail flicks back and forth through the air.

"Okay so what, we just sit around waiting?" he demands. I don't know why he's so antsy, I swear he spends most of his days lounging around on his behind. I snap the book shut and put it down on the night stand.

"I'm so glad you asked," I tell him brightly. "In actual fact, we have several chores to do today!" "What are you talking about?" Cardan says crossly. "Here there are no servants," I remind him, bopping his nose. Cardan is now irritable, and swats my hand. I ignore him. "We need to get groceries for the next few days, and go to the laundromat.

"What's a laundromat?" Cardan asks. "It's where we wash our clothes." "We have to wash our own clothes?" "For the thousandth time, yes we have to wash our own clothes."

Cardan opens his mouth to protest, then shuts it again.

"Fine," he grumbles. "But if we're going to the shops I want ice cream." Of all the human foods he had tried so far, Cardan loves ice cream the most. Is an absolute sucker for ice cream.

"It's a deal," I say, sliding off the bed. "Now glamour up."

Cardan groans loudly, and rolls over onto his back.

"Now what you big baby?" I asked, exasperatedly. There really is no end to his complaining. "I'm sick of looking mortal," Cardan grumbles. "And just what exactly are you implying?"

Cardan looks at me upside down, his head hanging off the end of the bed. He reaches out and snags my waist, pulling me down next to him.

"On you it's beautiful," he says, nipping at my lower lip. "You have fewer sharp edges than faerie women." His eyes trail down to my chest. "You have more... more." He grazes his thumb under the curve of my left breast, and kisses the hollow at the base of my throat.

"Let's not go out at all," he says. "I can think of far better ways to beguile the time." His hands slide down my back, and for a moment I think we totally could just stay in here all day. But I also refuse to give in to him.

"Are you trying to use sex as an excuse to not have to be glamoured?" I accuse. Cardan makes a face.

"On me it just looks..." he gestures vaguely. "Bland."

"Too bad," I tell him. "We're going." Cardan harrumphs, and then a shimmer ripples through the air. His ears round down, his tail disappears, and the clawed tips of his fingers reduce to short, tidy nails. He keeps all the rings in his ears and on his fingers.

"I just don't want to go out like this," he says, pouting. I whack him with a pillow. "If I paint your nails, will you leave the house?" "Yes!" Cardan said, sitting up quickly. "Shiny black to match my eyes." He holds out his hands imperiously, and I bite his fingers savagely before rummaging through my bag for the nail polish.

Fifteen minutes later, we are walking down the street. I'm carrying a bag of laundry, and Cardan is blowing on his nails. He may not think much of mortal fashion, but I rather like him in his soft, black cotton t-shirt, and black jeans that hug his backside. He has kept his own boots, and he looks good. Not that I'm was going to tell him that, of course.

Our first stop is the laundromat to put our load on, then we continue on to the grocery store. I load Cardan up with a loaf of bread, bag of oranges, peanut butter to replace the one we've finished at Heather and Vivi's, a carton of eggs, a pint of milk and two packs of tampons to take back to Faerie. While I'm doing this, Cardan also grabs a bag of marshmallows, a box of froot loops, and a stack of flavoured condoms that I choose not to acknowledge at all.

When it comes to picking ice cream, Cardan spends a good ten minutes just going over all the flavours. He's transfixed by the multicoloured boxes and various promises of chocolate fudge and strawberry cheesecake utopia.

"One," I tell him firmly. "But there are so many I haven't tried yet!" he protests. "One." "You know we're not exactly short on funds, right?" "We're short on freezer space, and we're only here a couple more days. Pick."

Cardan takes on a pained look like I'm making him choose between children, and eventually selects a tub of rocky road.

We make our way home, and the laundry still has twenty minutes left on the timer. Cardan is eating ice cream out of the tub with a wooden stirrer he snagged from a coffee cart.

"Now that you've seen me do this one, you can do the next load, before we go home," I say to him. He feeds me ice cream.

"Why wash before we go home?" Cardan asks. "We've got people to do it for us there." He sucks on his makeshift spoon.

"Yes," I agree, plucking the whole tub from his hands. "But it's still a good thing for you to know how to do." Cardan reaches to take it back, but I yank it out of the way and continue eating. "You're a grown ass adult," I say. "You can't always have everyone do everything for you."

Cardan snarls.

"And stop growling and snarling at me, you're in the human realm now, act like it." I point the stirrer at him for emphasis.

Cardan raises his eyebrows.

"Do I detect a hint of vexation, my dear?" he asks. "You're awfully harsh with me today." It's true. Cardan in the human realm is like a little kid, needing constant supervision and cajoling. Not for the first time, I pity his servants at home.

"Because you're awfully annoying today," I say, putting the ice cream away. "You've been whingeing all day, consider me vexed." Cardan just grins, and it's infuriating. I hate the way he lights up when I'm annoyed at him, and it makes me all the more mad.

"Stop smiling at me like that," I snap. Cardan only grins wider, and then suddenly he's scooping me off the bench.

"What are you doing?" I yelp, as I'm lifted into the air. He sets me down on the washing machine, slides his hands behind my hair, and kisses me softly on the mouth.

"Still annoyed at me?" he asks against my lips. "Yes," I say. He kisses me again, and although I don't approve of this as a method of getting back on my good side, nor can I quite bring myself to push him away.

"How about now?" he whispers. "Kissing me doesn't make you less annoying." I try to sound stern.

Cardan smooths his hands down the outside of my legs, pulls them around his waist, and moves his lips under her ear. "Are you sure?" he purrs. Damn him.

He kisses along my jaw, lifts my hands to his shoulders, wraps his arms around my waist, and then licks at my tongue as he kisses me again. My mouth opens automatically for him, and despite myself, I shiver under his touch. It's always, always like this with Cardan and it'll be the death of me. When his mouth curves against mine, I know that he knows it.

"Seems to be working, to me," he murmurs.

"And that makes me hate it all the more," I say, a last stab at irritation before I give up, grab a hold of the front of his t-shirt, and pull him back to me. Cardan laughs as he kisses me, and the movement of it is echoed in the movement of the increasingly active washing machine he has sat me upon. I am suddenly very aware of the vicious vibration of it beneath my thighs.

"For fuck's sake," Cardan says, "this thing feels like it's about to take off. It's like video of the rocket thingy Oak showed me." "Shhh," I tell him, and drag his lips back to mine. I tighten my legs around his waist, as the whine of the machine gets higher. Cardan raises an eyebrow.

"I thought you were annoyed at me," he says. "I am," I reply, and then continue kissing him. His skin is delicious, and I want to taste more of him. I move my mouth down his neck. "It doesn't feel like... Oh. Oh." He pulls back.

"Jude. My love." A wicked gleam comes into his eye. "Are you rather enjoying this here washing machine?" "I don't know what you're talking about," I said steadily. But then the machine speeds up again, is shaking steadily under me and a shudder goes through my legs.

"How very delightful," Cardan says, and I want to slap him. He puts his lips to my ear. "Are you turned on right now, sweet nemesis?" he asks. "Do you want me, you angry little thing?"

"Shut up," I say, but then Cardan's hand is sliding up my thigh, slipping under my skirt and even though it's broad daylight and a public place, it's exactly what my body wants right now.

He licks his tongue up the column of my throat, and as he does the lights go down in the laundromat. Magic hums in the air, as the glass front frosts over and Cardan's glamour fades. His tail winds its way around my calf, and I hear the click of the lock in the door.

"Oh come now," he says. "Is that any way to talk to your husband?"

I opened my mouth with a retort on my tongue, but then Cardan is kissing me again and I forget it. He yanks me onto to the edge of the machine and before I know what I'm doing I'm reaching for the button on his jeans.

Cardan pushes my underwear to the side and sinks into me with the most delicious moan. Even thought he doesn't move for a minute, the rocking of the washing machine moves us enough that we are clutching at each other desperately and trying to get closer. Cardan hooks his elbows under my knees and my hands fall back to catch myself as he tilts me up toward him, and then he's fucking me right there in the laundromat.

The double sensation of Cardan moving inside me and the vibrations flooding through us both is almost too much. My moans turn to screams, but they are hidden by the clanging of the machine, and then Cardan's thumb is hovering over my clit and the pressure building in my abdomen is now threatening to surge up my throat and pour out my mouth.

With no warning, Cardan lands a stinging slap across my backside, where it is lifted off the machine. This last push, the flash of pain amidst my pleasure is what has me falling over the edge and I hit my climax hard, barely aware of Cardan falling right behind me.

We just stay there while the washing machine slows and beeps to tell us the laundry is done. Finally, Cardan speaks.

"You know," he says, "I think I like doing washing after all." I roll my eyes at him. "So what comes next?" he asks, and that's when I get my own wicked grin.

"The dryer," I say, and suddenly I, too, am excited by the prospect of more laundry.

****

I'm deep in my Jurdan feels, can you tell? If anyone is interested, I'll start a Jurdan taglist separate from my Feysand one. Let me know if you'd like to be on it.

For now, I'll just tag @asteria-of-mars because you got me into this mess and now you have to be subjected to my feelings...

JURDAN MASTERLIST (there's not much on it but may as well get into the habit)

[shesasurvivor]

Are ya ready, kids?

I can't hear you!

Great-great-grandmother shesasurvivor of the fandom elders from ancient yore has finally caught up on her IRL responsibilities, and is finally ready to join in on #thgagain to reread the BEST TRILOGY OF BOOKS, RULER OF MY HEART. Because once you're on this train, you're never off.

Anyways! Tonight, I'm going to settle down and read the first chapter. I'm so behind! I thought I'd jot down some thoughts and write them out as I go along.

Let's start!

(I don't know why this post has taken on a Spongebob theme.)

Lots has been said about this, but the fact that Katniss starts the trilogy out by waking up alone in bed, separated from her loved ones, and ends the story in bed (in more than one way) with Peeta... I love it.

Oh, and the way her relationship with Buttercup evolves from beginning to end, too!

Now that I've read The Underland Chronicles, I can't help wondering if the comment about protecting the goat cheese from hungry rats is supposed to be a (very mild) reference to those books, lol.

Likewise, now that we've seen more of District 12's past from The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, the comment about the animals that "used to threaten (their) streets" is a little amusing, in a sad kind of way.

LOL, the symbolism, the imagery of an arrow stuck in a loaf of bread. Barely a few pages into the book, and Peeta is already coming between Katnis and Gale. ;)

WHAT HAPPENED TO MRS. EVERDEEN'S APOTHECARY SHOP? WHAT HAPPENED TO HER PARENTS? Did they disown her? If so, are they still alive? Did they die? I can only assume they died, but why and when? So many questions!

The description Katniss gives of the warm summer day teeming with life has always been one of my favorites. So beautiful, but so bittersweet when you think about it in terms of what's going to happen down the road for them.

The comment about Katniss being jealous when she overhears the girls wanting Gale... on the surface level, I think it's easy to read this as her having secret feelings for Gale. Maybe it's just my Everlark-loving goggles on, but I've always thought it was a red herring on SC's part, and that Katniss really is just resistant to the idea of change. I know there's an interpretation (that I agree with, among others) that one thing Gale represents is the past, and Katniss's old life, so I think it makes sense narratively if Katniss is just trying to resist the idea that things will one day change.

Continuity Issues: Gale says that they can go fish at the lake. But in Catching Fire, Katniss tells us she never went there with Gale. Are there two different lakes?

"It could keep a family in bread for months." Hmmm I wonder if anything related to bread is going to be important to this story.

*draws mental parallels between "Tuck your tail in, little duck* and Ducktales*

I always wonder if Prim and Mrs. Everdeen ate much of the meal Katniss gathered for them that morning.

"He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained." Everyone always asks what happened to the rest of the world in the books, but the answer is right here. The rest of the world has been destroyed.

This whole portion where she discusses the history of Panem and The Hunger Games really makes me want to read Ballad again. I wish SC would publish a whole encyclopedia about this world.

WE FINALLY KNOW WHO THE OTHER VICTOR FROM 12 WAS. Imagining the mayor reading Lucy Gray Baird's name. Suzanne Collins read my post and answered my wish.

Is it just me, or does Haymitch trying to give Effie a hug seem really out of character for him? Is there more going on here? I'm not really a Hayffie shipper, but idk, maybe this scene is subtext? Or is something else going on?

NO NOT PRIMROSE EVERDEEN!

Aaaaand, that's the end of chapter 1! Will I do another post tomorrow for chapter 2? Combine my thoughts for 2 and 3? Who knows! I sure don't! (lol) Happy Hunger Games everyone!!!!

[jesuisgourde]

gay/queer references in Peter’s journals

Again, I have probably missed stuff due to going through pretty quickly and also due to having stared at this document for so long, everything has kind of blurred together.

Sometime close to the day that Carlos & I watched 'Love And Death on Long Island' (and afterwards paraded through the tea rooms of Picadilly) we both filled in application forms and were tres excited to be invited to the same group 'interview' - twas more like an audition though. I got the part. Carlos never. This did not bring any animosity - we both know that success for either of us is magnified a million times if it is shared by us both.

from 'A Diamond Guitar' by Truman Capote "Except that they did not combine their bodies or think to do so, though such things were not unknown at the (Prison), they were as lovers. Of the seasons, spring is the most shattering: stalks thrusting through the earth's winter-stiffened crust, young leaves cracking out on old left-to-die branches, the falling asleep wind cruising through all the newborn green. And with Mr Schaeffer it was the same, a breaking up, a flexing of muscles that had hardened. It was late January. The friends were sitting on the steps of the sheep house, each with a cigarette in his hand. A moon thin and yellow as a piece of lemon rind curved above them, and under its light, threads of ground frost glistened like silver snail trails. Tico Feo had been drawn into himself - silent as a robber waiting in the shadows."

Then a meet with Bounds Green's African prince outside whitechapel tube, rugged lookies at I in military attire & to a ruptured Albion rooms tidied in hours and now lids drawn heated on the eyes. A young looking fella has a crush on me.

Jackie/Camillia/Marie/Kate/Chris/V. churchill Jackie/Evelina/Jasmine/Sachi/Dalston/Sussie Sandra/Carlene/FP/Jay/Dalston/Kraut

There sat a young black man, perhaps in his early or middle twenties. He looked for all the world like the archetypal rude boy. Clean, cheap reebok, nike, adidas variously rolled, laced & zipped about his lean, spreadeagled body that hung loosely about the waiting room chair. Gold & tattoos adorned his person, and a blank animal look was attached to his clear face. He sat before me in a row of four empty chairs, staring at polished floor or the mundane television. A balding white man minced in & all perceptions were suddenly proven to be false as they embraced and snuggled up to each other, giggling & whispering & touching each others noses.... very much in love, fingers crossed for the blood tests.

[Image: an article from Gay Times of an interview with Peter. For some reason, the portrait included alongside the article is of Carl wearing a grey and black t-shirt.] Name? Peter Doherty Age? 22 Where are you? I'm on the motorway just north of Southampton. What kind of day are you having? (Vaguely) Erm... quite misty. Something's waiting around the corner, but there are no corners on the motorway, so we'll just have to wait and see what lies ahead. Maybe something will happen tonight.... What's this we hear about you once being a rent boy? Well, when times are hard, duty calls. How long ago was it? When I was 19, about three years ago. How do we know this isn't just a Shaun Ryder-type lie? 'Cause if it was, it would make me a complete scumbag and I'm not, and I'm not interested in that kind of pantomime. It wasn't a very happy time. I didn't really enjoy it. Why did you give it up? (grimly) Well, certain people disappeared... and anyway, ultimately I found myself no longer in such a vulnerable position anymore. Dawn broke, and I realised that it was a beautiful world after all. Have you done any other dodgy jobs? All of us in the band have tried to deal, but it's not good if you like the drugs too much. You just end up using them yourself! I once was a gravedigger. I used to do it with my mate in Willesden Green cemetery. We didn't actually do the digging, a machine did that, but we used to have to fill them in. It was pretty grim work. So are you gay then? Love is love, wherever it comes from. I'm not anything, really. I am a very sexual person but... I dunno, I believe in liberty... The Marquis de Sade has a lot to answer for... Do you get a lot of gay fans? Yeah - well, there's one guy in particular. He's very shy and he follows us around. He brings in letters and cards and stuff, but he's very quiet. I think John (the bassist) is the main pulling power in the band. Are you jealous about that? Nah! I've known him too long.

You know I'm alright i dont even care i like it when they stare & stare call me queer, dear oh dear a million things & what I wear He's real hard when he's with his mates but I'll saw him again & he was too late

Dear NME I'd have thought after the Gay Times piece, the interview with Rapture fanzine & our recent gig at the Slum Club everything would be clear. No it still remains to give a big hearty fuck off to all these twisted suburban types calling me a liar. Vulnerable young men & women all over the world find themselves victims of circumstance.

she was dressed in suit & tie & lightly etched-on moustache. 'I've always wanted to kiss a bird in the back of a taxi.' she says, running her hand up the fishnet ladders of my thigh. Stepping onto the front line in Bow puddles, elevators, buzzing doors,

[Image: the original page in the book has been preserved. Two paragraphs have been boxed off with biro. They read:] “...cast Richard Burton and Rex Harrison as bickering queer barbers and then much more uncompromisingly in William Friedkin's adaptation of The Boys in the Band (1970), which introduced some of the plainer four letter words in the English language to the screen for the first time. 'Who,' asks Cliff Gorman, in his brilliant portrayal of the most effeminate of the homosexual group as they gather for a soul-searching party, 'Who do you have to fuck to get a drink around here?' Other homosexual manifestations to occur in movies around this time included an elliptical but unmistakeable male fellatio scene in John Schlesinger's Midnight Cowboy (1969) when Jon Voight, as a broke and disillusioned Texas stud importunes in a New York cinema....”

[Image, top left: a blurry photo of John onstage, playing bass. Image, top right, sideways: a photo of the band onstage. Carl and John are on the left, sharing a mic. Peter is on the right, playing guitar and singing into his own mic. Image, centre left: a torn photo of Peter sitting in a chair, shirtless, playing guitar. Only his bottom half from the chest down is visible. Image, centre left: a torn photo of Peter sitting in a chair, shirtless, playing guitar. Only his top half from shoulders up is visible. Image, bottom left: a torn fragment of a photo. What looks like a denim-clad knee and a yellow carrier bag are visible. Image, bottom middle: a photo of someone's knee in torn jeans, taken from under a table. Image, bottom right: a torn photo of Carl in a black sleeveless shirt, posing with his fingers in his mouth.] [A paragraph from the original page of the book has been left exposed and boxed off with black biro. It reads:] “The Boys in the Band was displaced by an immeasurably more powerful portrayal of homosexual groups, Fortune and Men's Eyes (1971). Set in a Quebec prison, this disturbing, factually based drama vividly recounted the corrupted of a heterosexual convict trapped in a tough, potentially vicious homosexual society. In one horrifying scene, a weak, put-upon prisoner is gang-banged by his fellow inmates; in another, the 'hero' is blackmailed by his cellmate into accepting him as his lover for the duration...”

Like a cat on a hot tin roof Like a macho man in a roomful of poofs I have tried in my way to be free.

[Written in Peter's handwriting] Jerome... is that how it's spelt? [Written in someone else's handwriting] Yes it is [Written in Peter's handwriting] Can I read you something? [Written in someone else's handwriting] Yes please.....

I insist, new book of Albion, befuddled by drugs I may yes about 2 but I do not miss out entirely on the subtleties of the inhuman relation ships that are this the mainstay of my stay here in one bounce of a loaf. Boys are fooled into fooling with boys. [...]

More general references/some extra explanations:

“The boy looked at Johnny” is a line from Patti Smith's song “Horses,” part one of a three-part song called “Land.” In the song, a young man named Johnny is assaulted by another man in a locker room; he then mentally journeys to other fantastical lands and visions. A lot of people interpret it as being about gay sex, although some people interpret it as being about a stabbing.

Peter quotes and references Jean Genet's writing and works about Jean Genet many times. While Genet's works are nearly all about crime and prison (one of Peter's main interests and points of fascination), all of his works are very explicitly gay. The Thief's Journal is more about Genet's various lovers than it is about his criminal history. Our Lady Of The Flowers is about a drag queen and her criminal lovers, and is also extremely erotic.

(“Jerome” is Jerome Alexandre, vocalist of The Deadcuts, who was friends with Peter and Mark Keds.)

[discotreque]

Disco 4.01: Kobayashi Maru

AND WE’RE BACK, BABEY.

I got stuff to do today, so let’s just dive right in. Spoilers, obvs!

“Butterfly in the sky, I can go twice as—HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT”

I loved... most of that cold open? It did a great job of (re-)introducing our characters, their relationships to each other, and their jobs on the ship; the dialogue was cute, the action was kinetic, the A-to-B-to-C stuff was efficient and tidy; and it was a Violence Problem with a Science Solution, which is always good Star Trek. (It was also painfully unsubtle and almost annoyingly smug—but I guess it wouldn’t feel like Disco if the writing on this show weren’t constantly sabotaging itself, sigh.)

I cannot even tell you how much I love Wife Guy™ Book. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if you want a perfect fictional man, get a lesbian to write him. I don’t know why it works, but it does.

“Thank you, Lt. Christopher, a guy who has definitely always been on the bridge.” I joke, but welcome to the crew, dude!

If I were ever within like 50 feet of Sonequa Martin-Green and she said “Let’s fly” my knees would instantly buckle. 🥺️

Did the Ba’ul always sound like they’re voiced by Frank Oz? They’re not—it’s David Sobolov, who’s done loads of VA, including for other Star Trek stuff; the S2 Ba’ul were voiced by Mark Pellington, who’s mostly actually a director—but Sobolov’s definitely doing a little bit of Oz there and it’s great.

I’d have to go back and check to be sure, but I think they’ve redesigned the Kelpian prosthetics a little? The eye-holes seem bigger, so we can see more of the actors through the mask; I also think they might be constructing them differently, using more and smaller pieces, to better “transmit” facial expressions through the loaf—Saru especially seemed even more animated than usual. (Then again, maybe I just missed my tall boi.)

Costume designer Gersha Phillips continues to bless us: the new duty uniforms! The new dress uniforms! The cadet uniforms! The utility variants on the repair base! And the fancy Kelpian outfits too—chef’s kiss.

It’s utterly astounding to me that SMG and David Ajala never had a chemistry test. (Apparently he had visa issues or something coming from the UK to Canada, and there just wasn’t time?) I could watch them make faces at each other all day.

SPEAKING OF MAKING FACES AT EACH OTHER:

Also, Michael looking at the Federation president like “…I guess I didn’t sort out all my mommy issues last season…”

Admiral Vance’s family???? 😭️😭️😭️ (Oh noooooo, it’s not his whole family, is it…)

TILLYYYYYYY 😭️😭️😭️😭️😭️

I really liked the actor who played Book’s brother last season and I didn’t think we’d see him again! Also, that ceremony was really beautiful, and that kid was so little and so cute and such a good actor! [edit: fuckkkkkk]

Holy hell, the pure sapphic energy in “What do you mean, ‘if’?” I blushed.

ADIRA AND TILLY, SCIENCE BOSSES

The stuff between Saru and Su’Kal was very sweet (if, again, as subtle as a sledgehammer), but the whole “you’re the father I never had” bit cracked me up: the actor who plays Su’Kal is like 10 years older than Doug Jones, lmao, you just can’t tell through the loaf.

Absolutely loved the design of the 32nd-century worker bee. 🐝️

“…and then Michael Burnham got killed by a frozen fart” would have been a pretty ignoble way to go out.

SHIT

SHIT SHIT SHIT

THE MOON?????

…all of that was fucking INTENSE, holy FUCK.

Awwww, I knew that poor stressed-out commander was doomed, but it was still sad. (Also, Adira’s “I don’t understand, we made it, we were safe” broke my goddamn heart.)

Hey, are we going to dig into Michael Burnham’s god complex this season? That could be fun (and by “fun” I mean “painful and heartbreaking,” of course.)

Oh. Oh no.

So it’s going to be like that, then. Oooooof.

Guess I’m watching The Ready Room just to make myself feel better now!