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kate-bishops-waifu · 2 years

Note

Hi! Saw your call for story requests (Thank you for your service, haha). Would love to read anything Siegfried x Audrey, or Siegfried x Reader if that catches your fancy. Thanks!

a.n: Hiiiiiiii! This is my first time writing one of these, and I had a lot of fun, thank you for submitting! It might be more appropriately called a 'blurb' I hope that's all right? It's a new writing style so I'm just getting used to it. I really hope you like it have a lovely day <3

"Excuses"

Siegfried Farnon X gn!reader

Warnings: None! just fluff. Mentions of cat being sick.

Edited: A little.

The Darrowby book and exchange was yours. Every book and every picture on the wall was yours to decide, and as such, you had the right, nay, obligation; to fill it with as many cats as you liked. You would set a bowl of food and water for the neighborhood strays, and they were beginning to take a liking to you. So it was any wonder that you felt obligated by them.

It wasn’t a remarkable day, but you hadn’t seen Molly, the gray haired old lady you had adopted, properly, from one of the Dalesmen who had a liter they couldn’t keep. Molly was the biggest of the group, fat, strong, and a firm god complex which you indulge a little more than you would like to admit. But she was your first cat, and therefore she was the oldest. ‘Old lady’ you would fondly call her.

‘PSPSPSPSPPS Cat? Molly? Where are you hiding?’ It was nearing the end of the day, and your shop had cleared out half an hour ago so you began your search.

Often you could find her hiding on the shelves, or tucked between the overflow stacks. There was precisely where you found her. Between stacks, her fluff squished against the window, and her breathing erratic. She looked, and this is in no way an insult to her highness, terrible. Her eyes were distant and she was wheezing a little. You noticed she had vomited her breakfast, and elected to ignore it for now. The vet wasn’t far away, and you had no trouble closing early today.

It took some looking, but you eventually found the cage, and with some hissing and spitting, managed to get the poor old bat inside. You tried to make it as comfortable as possible, her favorite blanket and pillow from your upstairs apartment, and a sprig of catnip to keep her happy; If she could keep it down. Which you discovered as you made your way through the cobbled streets, she could not.

The practice wasn’t busy when you entered, one other such customer sat by the door with a chicken, looking inconvenienced. And you supposed most people felt such a way in a veterinary practice.

‘Welcome in, why don’t you sit down. Mr. Farnon will be out as soon as he can.’ Mrs. Hall the housekeeper had greeted you.

You took a seat across from the sterile doors of the surgery and settled the old cat on the chair next to you. It might have been a bit hasty, but you didn’t want to wait around with an old cat like her. Better be safe than sorry, you told yourself.

It wasn’t long before the vet emerged, leading out his patient with a smile like he was satisfied with himself. He turned to mrs. Hall and whispered something, glancing back at you. All you could think as you saw those crow feet and kind eyes, was: ‘what a nice face.’

‘So sorry, mr. Dobbins. I’ll have to take this patient first. Shouldn’t be much longer. You understand.’ He said dismissively to the other patient. Mr. Dobbins looked upset, but Farnon was too distracted to notice as he knelt in front of Molly’s cage, ‘Alright. Molly is it?’ He addressed the cage. ‘Right. Let’s see what’s wrong with you,’ He turned his gaze to you, and smiled benevolently. His eyes were perfect as they met yours, and you couldn’t help but be distracted by them. Those kind eyes seemed to hide their youthfulness and play at a much deeper sort of meaning than any he seemed to put on.

Inside the surgery the first thing that struck you was how disorganized it was. Not the sterile table or the platter of instruments, but the desk. Strewn about papers, a jar of papers overflowing onto the ledger that was building dust.

‘Let's see what's wrong with you old girl.’ He pulled the cat from her cage, and set her gently on the table, soothing its raised hackles. He asked you some general questions then began to give her a look over.

‘You own the bookstore right? Down the way?’ He asked out of the blue. It took you a few moments to respond.

‘Yes. Darrowby Book and Exchange. Had it for a few years now.’

‘Right. I like it there. Feels like I can focus. Maybe the place is as organized as my mind so I feel like I fit in.’

That made you laugh. Your store was not very organized.

You didn’t expect it, but after that Siegfried Farnon became a constant in your life. At least once, sometimes twice, every week you saw him. It was getting colder so the cats you took care of were getting sicker and you had just about as many excuses to go see the vet as you could hope. You learned how exceptionally kind he was, though he hid it under a surprisingly hard surface. You saw right through him. After the first month of excuses to go and see him, Siegfried Farnon made his first appearance in your shop. He came in casually and began to peruse silently as you did your best not to gaze. He came up with a few books in his hand and started asking for recommendations, thoughts on the books he’d picked. Pretty soon an hour sped by and you had completely forgotten what he had come in for.

The next time he showed up in your shop, was a surprise. He was carrying tea and some scones and doing his best to look perfectly casual as he set them on the counter. You came out of the woodworks, surprised to see him leaning on your desk like he belonged there, sipping tea. You were beginning to think maybe he did.

Siegfried pretended to ignore you as you took your place behind the counter and you had to speak up for him to acknowledge you.

‘Oh, sorry. Didn’t notice you’d come back. Here. Some tea. And scones. Mrs. Hall made them, I hope you don’t mind?’

You weren’t sure if it was so much a question as it was a statement as he seemed to be quite content, leaning on the desk.

It was hard not to blush as you sipped your tea. Siegfried told you old war stories about the animals he had taken care of. The general chaos that was Veterinary service. You reveled in the way his entire face lit up, telling embarrassing and oftentimes heroic acts of animal doctoring. He might have been embellishing some but you didn't say anything.

It was then two months since you met Siegfried Farnon. Your life felt brighter, more interesting. He never ceased to entertain and it was hard not to imagine a life without your biweekly chats. They could last anywhere from an hour to nearly half the day. It was as if time stood still and simultaneously moved much much quicker than you would like.

But then came the day when you were called away. A family visit or holliday, it doesn’t matter, but the important thing is that the daffodil ball, as Tristan once said ‘the social event of the season’ was set to be the day you came back. The day you would never be able to make it.

And so it went, you arrived home late, the sun was setting and you were tired. As you unlocked the front door you sighed in relief as you set your things down. It was terribly dark, the curtains drawn, the lights off. Your cat sitter must have just left; Molly’s bull was filled with her prescription food. You decided you were too tired to unpack so leaving it for tomorrow was very appealing to you. You made your way downstairs to check on your shop, feeling stiff as you gave it a once over. You collected the cash from the register and noted down where you might need to replace some books.

There came a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting anyone at this hour, or at all. Your shop was closed, you had planned to see your friends the next day, so who on earth would bother you?

Standing outside, his hands in his pockets and his back facing the window was Siegfried Farnon. Doing his best to look casual.

You went to open the door and Siegfried turned to face you, a little surprised.

‘Siegfried? What are you doing here so late?’

Siegfried shuffled slightly where he stood, and you ushered him in, the little bell jingling above the door.

‘I wasn’t sure where you had gone.’ He said.

‘Did I neglect to tell you? I’m sorry, I was on a trip.’ You felt a little guilty, wishing you had said something and not just disappeared. You didn’t mean to, it was all a little last minute for you, but none of that seemed to matter now.

‘Ah. Well. Tonight’s the Daffodil ball you know.’ He was so awkward, twisting a paper in his hands like a nervous boy.

‘Is it?’

‘Yes. Yes it is, and I was sort of hoping you would be here for it.’

‘You were?’ Your cheeks felt warm at the idea of spinning around a ballroom in Siegfried’s arms, the trumpet guiding your movements as you lost yourself in each other's embrace.

‘Yes. I was.’

‘What’s that then?’ you gestured to the piece of paper.

‘Oh. This? Our tickets. It’s silly I shouldn’t have supposed-’

‘That’s very kind of you Siegfried. I would have gone if I had been here earlier.’ You smiled apologetically.

‘Right. Well that’s a shame isn’t it. I suppose you wouldn’t be up for it at this hour would you?’ He looked hopeful, and you couldn’t help but feel the guilt rise up in your belly.

‘No. I suppose I wouldn’t, I’m sorry.’

He looked so dejected, about to turn and leave, but you grabbed his arm.

‘I wouldn’t mind at least one dance though.’ You were surprised at your own bravery, but it almost came easily to you. Being in his presence, it somehow made you more confident.

Siegfried smiled, that lovely bearded smile that made his eyes light up and his true youthfulness escaped. He took your hand and wrapped an arm around your waist. His hand was so soft, which almost surprised you. He held you close as he could, he radiated heat and you seemed to sink into him. You turned about the room carefully, a silent waltz guiding you as you stared at each other.

His movements began to slow and it became an easy swaying motion.

‘I’m sorry I forgot to tell you. I intended to, I really did. I guess it just slipped my mind.’ You admitted.

Siegfried chuckled and shook his head.

‘I think this is better.’ He tilted his head slightly, curiously. Like a dog. Which made you smile, because of course. He had such a kinship with animals it’s any wonder you didn’t notice before.

‘You know, I have a sudden, maybe ridiculous urge, to kiss you.’ He admitted.

You felt the breath escape your chest all at once and all you could do was nod pathetically as he leaned in and closed the gap.

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kate-bishops-waifu · 1 year

Note

Could you please do a Tristan x reader?

Perhaps where the reader ran away from home and Darrowby took them in as a stray. They might act as a secretary for the practice and work under Mrs. Hall. And someone has just pointed out Tristan that he's in love with them and is now awkward and flustered.

Or something entirely different

a.n. So sorry this took so long! I've been busy and quite frankly unmotivated. But I hope you like it. Have a lovely day, and thanks for the request nonny.

Tristan x gn!Reader

'Unethical'

No I have not seen the '78 All Creatures.

Warnings: Like one swear? Tristan being an anxious boy. Siegfried.

Fluff. Friends to lovers. The slightest hint of angst.

word count: 2241

He/They pronouns for Tristan

Six months in Skeldale house had taught you how a somewhat more sane world operated. You had space to move about without bumping into machinery, you weren’t suffocating in what amounted to a tenement and you had a bed all to yourself.

Tristan had compared your room to a broom closet, but you didn’t mind. No rats crawled over you, no bed bugs bit at you.

It was a palace to you.

The tall ceilings, the stone walkway, the numerous alcoves you could just fit a small table

with a plant or picture in. You’d never been more comfortable in your whole life. But

you couldn’t entirely relax, could you?

No.

The room sometimes suffocated you, the jobs were sometimes too clean and safe. It felt foreign. All you had to worry about was how dinner would be ready in time and if the

Bookkeeping was safe. And it was quiet. Not too quiet, especially on days the surgery was open, chickens, dogs, and all sorts came in on those days and you felt you could breathe a little easier. But every other day was quiet. Jess, the kindest most obedient pup you had met was so quiet that she merely tilted her head at the door when someone came in. She didn’t protest when you put her in the back, she just quietly went along like it was routine. And it was.

You were in the grand kitchen with the fine wood table and window into that magnificently unkempt garden. Tristan was sitting on the counter, something they only ever did in your company. Siegfried or Mrs. Hall would let them have a piece of their mind. Say something about it being unsanitary, while Jame’s just sort of chuckled and went on with his day.

You didn’t mind though. In fact you like Tristan’s company most. He had this relaxing attitude about life, and infectious joy you admired. You felt like a real person around him, unlike the rest of the village who seemed to find you a peculiarity. Something interesting to whisper about.

You’d been long in thought. Tristan was going on about cricket, some fantastic feat was played the last time it was broadcast that he was still buzzing about. You wanted to pay attention, but you had been overtaken by that feeling again. Like you were living a dream about to wake up to a loud stuffy room with your parents arguing in the next as the never ending sound of machinery rumbled the weak walls.

‘Y/N? Y/N are you alright? I think I lost you.’ Tristan was practically waving his hand in front of your face, leaning over to try and get your attention.

‘What? Oh. Sorry, guess I zoned out. What were you saying?’

Tristan tilted his head at you and squinted like he was trying to read your thoughts. Which he was, but he wasn’t very successful.

‘Alright, spill it. I’m not about to judge you, you know. Six months here; you’re practically part of the furniture.’

You shake your head, placing a plate on the drying rack and wiping your hands. ‘It’s going to sound strange. So don’t judge me.’

Tristan straightened up, to show you he was taking it seriously, grabbing to top of the side of the counter, he nodded.

You rubbed your forehead with the heel of your palm, and chuckled at yourself. ‘It’s. . . Well it’s too quiet. Here. In the house. I constantly feel like something has gone wrong. You know the other week, that dog who wouldn’t stop howling?’

Tristan shuddered at the memory.

‘That was, for whatever reason, the most relaxed I’ve been here. Like I’m looking forward to a busy surgery so things can be a bit more hectic.’

Tristan shook his head seriously. ‘You want me to start banging pots and pans every half hour?’

You breathed out a chuckle and tossed the towel at him. ‘I’m serious! It puts me on edge.’

Tristan dropped down from the counter, still chuckling at himself. ‘You want the radio?’ he asked, joyfully kissing the side of your head as he hopped over to the wood box on the other side of the dining table.

‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it. But yes. If you wouldn’t mind.’

The radio sputtered on as you leaned back against the counter. You didn’t recognize it, but Tristan began to hum along.

‘What is this?’ You asked.

Tristan shrugged. ‘Don’t know the name. Heard it before. Goodman I think the chap’s name is?’ He ventured.

‘Tristan!’ Came a recognisable belt from the back entrance. Siegfried charged in, a muddy white coat in his hands. ‘What on earth are you doing? I thought I told you do mix the-’

‘I know, I know. I already did it.’ Tristan interrupted.

‘Well did you organize them correctly? Last time I couldn't find the calcium injections.’

‘He was just keeping me company. He finished his duties.’ You said. ‘I made sure of it.’

Siegfried eyed the pair of you, eyes flicking back and forth. ‘Alright. Good.’ There came a loud barking from the other side of the house, and Siegfried squared his shoulders.

‘Surgeries open. Go on back to work.’ He directed,

Tristan hopped to it, turning back with a grin as he mouthed, ‘like that?’ motioning to the door where the infernal racket came from as people flowed in.

You laughed, nodding in agreement as Tristan gave a self satisfied smile.

Siegfried was still gazing between you with hooded eyes, like he was trying to decide something.

‘Tea Mr. Farnon?’

‘I think so Y/N.’ He took a seat at the table, sighing comfortably as you put the kettle on.

Siegfried Farnon was, to say the least: A lot. Six months as his employee and you'd seen his highs and lows and determined that he was overall a good man with well meaning. But he wasn’t always a kind man. Especially to Tristan who you always wanted to speak out in defense of.

‘Where’s James?’ Mrs. Hall asked as she came through the same back door.

Siegfried checked his watch, a mouth full of toast. ‘Should be at the Hanson’s.’ He guessed.

Mrs.Hall nodded and hung up her coat. Dropping a bag of groceries on the counter. You poured the tea, watching as she went into the corridor. Not a minute passed before she was hurrying back, Tristan on her tail.

‘Siegfried, I’m gonna need your help.’ Tristan announced from the doorway.

Mr. Farnon looked at the tea in his hand dejectedly and stood up following his contemporary.

The air in the sterile operation room was mild. It wasn’t a particularly scary procedure, you just couldn’t do it alone.

You made quick work of cleaning up, having a piece of toast for yourself, before going ahead to see what was happening.

Tristan was examining the area of interest, taking a pair of scissors to the spot. His eyes kept darting up to the window through the makeshift waiting room. You were explaining something to one of the waiting customers who looked especially impatient.

‘What’s that? Why are you so distracted?’ Siegfried asked, watching his little brother bemusedly.

Tristan’s eyes darted back to the task at hand.

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ He lied.

Siegfried sniffed at that. ‘You’ve been staring at Y/N like that for the past two weeks. You’re gonna bore a hole in the back of their head if you’re not careful.’

Tristan blushed, itching his forehead as an excuse to hide his face. ‘What do you mean? I haven’t.’ He shot back.

Siegfried raised an eyebrow. ‘That was a bit quick off the mark.’ He observed.

Tristan was blushing furiously. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it. It was annoying. A distraction, and shit. If he didn’t know what to think about this. It started to hit him like a wave. The only thing that had been on his mind for the past two months had been you or the patient. Often you took priority, as little as he’d like to admit it.

‘Wait! Y/N. Wait up!’ Tristan called as he slung his sports coat over his shoulders and jogged to catch up with you.

‘Damnit Siegfried.’ He muttered under his breath as they proceeded with the surgery.

It was a cool spring day. The ground still wet from rain as you splashed against the cobble.

‘I thought you weren’t coming?’ You said as he fell instep beside you.

‘House was too quiet.’ He shrugged, which made you laugh.

‘Now who’s the weirdo!’ You beamed in satisfaction.

Tristan rolled his eyes and you made your way to the cafe.

You sighed as you stepped in. It was so warm and smelled of pastries and good food. You took a table for two and settled in. ordering your food and drink fairly promptly. Most people were out working after the storm so it was considerably quiet. Tristan cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea.

‘It’s funny. I was just thinking, Yknow. I know you pretty well, but I don’t know anything about where you came from. No offense but you seemed pretty desperate when you got here?’

You couldn’t help blushing, feeling a bit embarrassed.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that in a bad way! I just wanted to know a bit more about you.’ He was the embarrassed one now.

‘No. It’s alright. I uh, I came from a working family. We made fake flowers for crassages and dresses and stuff. Lots of industrial presses and big machinery. Constant hammering. Not much money in it. We had a little place made of Plywood out the back.’ You admitted.

Tristan hummed in acknowledgement, taking a bite of his food, and sniffing when they couldn’t think of how to respond.

‘Sorry that was a bit much wasn’t it? I shouldn’ have-’

‘No! No. Not at all. I just don’t know what’s right to say? I don’t think sympathy is the right way to go, and I want you to know that I understand and don’t pity you. I think it’s rather remarkable you left it all behind. Going up in the world as you are.’ Tristan hastened a speech, falling into a warm, slightly apologetic smile.

You laughed. Properly laughed, full belly chuckle that Tristan wasn’t sure he had heard before. The sound took him by surprise and he felt his chest swell with fondness as you started to calm down. Wiping your tears away with your napkin.

‘Oh don’t worry about it! I get very well confused sometimes too. But you should have seen your face!’ You chorkled, tossing your napkin on the table.

‘It’s any wonder Siegfried would suggest I have feelings for you; when you laugh at me when I try to have a serious conversation.’ The remark was an utterance. They were looking at their food. But Tristan spoke loud enough for you to hear and that made your heart sink.

‘What’s that?’ you asked.

Tristan looked up at you slightly embarrassed.

‘It’s nothing. Just something my brother said. You know. He’s always saying things about me.’

‘Is it true?’ Your voice had gone small

‘What?’

‘Is it true what he said?’

Tristan started to wring his hands nervously. Internally hating himself for saying anything.

‘Well. I don’t know. I suppose there’s truth in it. Or else he wouldn’t say it would he? Or maybe he would, he’s been rather keen on stretching the truth lately how am I to know?’

‘It’s not for him to know. I think only you can say wether or no it’s true.’ You had to steady your voice. You were not expecting this conversation to take this turn and it was freaking you out.

Tristan took a moment to think, playing idly with his food. ‘I suppose it is, isn't it?’ he seemed to be talking more to himself than to you. ‘That really mucks things up doesn’t it.’

‘Why? Why does it mess anything up?’ You pondered.

Tristan looked up, but he wouldn’t look you in the face. His eyes darted about. ‘Because you’re out employee right? Well, Siegfried anyways. It doesn’t feel entirely ethical to put you in such a position. If something were to go wrong then, well, you probably wouldn’t want to stay would you, and you’d be out on the streets again.’

You nodded in understanding, then shook your head at the idea of never doing anything about it; and how hollow it made you feel.

‘I can find other jobs. I’ve built up enough savings now. It could always go right.’ You said.

Tristan looked at you with longing, dammit why did he have to have such a good ‘kicked puppy’ face?

‘But-’

‘Stop being ridiculous Tristan. I can handle myself well enough. I figure it’s easier to just get to know each other instead of sitting on our hands and hurting ourselves.’ You blurted out.

Tristan looked sympathetically at you. But you weren’t sure if the sympathy was for you or themself. But then you felt their hand brush against your own. The table was small so it was no reach.

‘Really? Are you sure, because I really don’t want to put you in a position-’

You nodded your head vigorously and took hold of his hand, the warmth and softness nearly melting you.

‘I like you a lot more than what’s usually considered ethical.’ Tristan beamed.

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