it was a small passing comment in the story but when its mentioned Sheila saw her dog get beaten to death when she was a kid and it made her feel like humankind was just like that (+ her sister's murder afterwards cementing that worldview)... augh.

Can you write a fic where Muzan sees the reincarnation of his late wife who he married when he was a human.

★۰ ໋࣭ muzan x reader.

omg I really liked this request so much that I wanted to do two parts, lol

this will be before Muzan finds the reincarnation of his late wife okay? I hope you like it and I'll be posting the second part soon :)

note: any grammatical errors made, please ignore. English is not my first language so I ask for patience :((

Muzan was never affectionate, at least the upper moons never noticed a feeling of empathy or an ounce of happiness in muzan. Everyone described him as spiteful and insensitive, he sees no value in humans. To his subordinates... he never showed respect.

But what no one knew was that a long time ago, Muzan actually had a family, he didn't have children, but Muzan has a wife, or rather, he did. She died a long time ago, he didn't even remember her face anymore, like, it was more than a thousand years alive as a demon... how could he remember? But he remembered all the effort she had put into giving her husband as much comfort as possible. Muzan was currently in the Infinity Castle, testing some experiments, but it seemed like something was wrong, the man felt something draining his energy. Even if it was 0.1%, he could feel it.

Was this some effect of the experiment? No... Muzan knew very well what he was messing with, and no side effects involved mental fatigue, especially from the first Oni that existed. Maybe it was his intrusive thoughts about humans that ended up leading him to you. He really hated humans, he wouldn't hesitate in the slightest to take one's life, but with you... was it different?

When he turned into an oni, you were there, in fact neither of you two understood very well what had happened to Muzan, but you never treated him with indifference... you had a pure heart, too pure to live in this world cruel, too pure to be rotten.

On the one hand, he would have immensely wished that it had been him who had killed you, it would have been much more dignified than a simple death from natural causes, at least for you. It's ironic to say that Muzan fell in love with you precisely because of your pure heart, since the man was totally the opposite. Even if you were here, Muzan wouldn't be the same caring husband he was years ago, but deep down, he would know that you would never give up on him.

Muzan sat on the chair, trying to clear his mind to return to the experiment, he cursed you deeply for appearing in his thoughts just when he was busy with something that could revolutionize the lives of oni's.

But then... there you were.

Muzan raised his head after feeling a presence in the same room as him, the man knew that Nakime wouldn't put anyone in the infinite castle if it weren't for Muzan's own request, so why is he feeling watched?

The answer was you.

For some reason that even he couldn't describe, you were there, exactly as you were buried, for a split second, he might have thought he was going crazy, but he didn't want to think about it. Muzan got up from the chair and approached his late wife, you looked so... cold. He didn't show any hint of emotion in his eyes when he raised his hand to touch your cheek, that touch wasn't a form of affection, it was just a test to see if he could feel your skin.

And the answer was no, the hand instantly passed across her figure. How were you here? Had he cursed his soul or something? Haven't you rested in peace all these years?

— Y/N?— Muzan calls you, hoping that you could respond.

Hope, this word is something he hasn't had for many years, of course his greatest hope was the blue Spider Lily Flower, but he never felt hope in the human race. But well... you're not human anymore, so he didn't care about his momentary weakness.He watched her hand come up and land on his hand, which was flying across his cheek. Muzan felt his senses scramble when you gave him a smile, that smile he thought he would never see again.

Muzan never left his cold expression, after years of being an oni and killing people... he no longer felt anything inside him, and at that moment, it was the same. His thoughts were interrupted with smoke filling the place, Muzan hurried to move the container that was causing this away from his table, so that the smoke would stop.

His gaze turned to you, but you weren't there. The man looked at the room he was in, looking for any sign of his presence, even though he felt that there was no one else with him. Muzan sat in his chair again, looking at the blueprint he was studying on his desk.

Brugmansia suaveolens of course... how did he not think of that before? The man took his notebook from the table, where he had notes about the variations of plants on the planet.

Brugmansia is a genus of seven species of flowering plants in the nightshade family Solanaceae. They are woody trees or shrubs, with pendulous flowers, and have no spines on their fruit. Their large, fragrant flowers give them their common name of angel's trumpets, adjacent to the nickname devil's trumpets of the closely related genus Datura.

Side effects of Brugmansia include nausea, vomiting, dry eyes, increased heart rate, dizziness and visual hallucination.

I feel like any attempts to redeem Salem, whether full-redemption or just her learning her lesson and dying in peace, would fall flat after the show's treatment of Ironwood. Ironwood did far less harm than Salem, and was even an ally and hero for the majority of the show, but he never got redeemed or even a dignified end. Heck, I doubt any of the characters will even morn his death. To turn around and redeem the main villain would feel confused at best, and downright insulting at worst.

Yeah, that’s a problem I keep coming back to as well. For as much as I understand fans wanting Salem to be treated kindly by the story (a desire some part of me shares), the flip-side is everything above. And it’s a weird situation of having two contradictory problems at once. Meaning, Emerald may not be at the level of personally wanting to destroy the whole world, but she helped kill Penny, destroy a school, attacked another, and has happily assisted Salem with her (presumed) plans for domination + was willing to kill anyone provided it made Cinder happy. So I get the logic of, “If someone as horrible of Emerald is allowed forgiveness near instantaneously, why can’t Salem be redeemed with just a bit more work?” But at the same time, there’s equal logic in, “If someone like Ironwood whose crimes aren’t anywhere near the level of Salem’s was denied even the potential for forgiveness, how can we possibly redeem the story’s primary villain?” (And I think it’s worth pointing out here that it’s not just a missed opportunity on Ironwood’s part because he died. Oscar and Ozpin gave up on him. Winter gave up on him. Ruby denounced him to all of Remnant. Qrow wanted to kill him. The story made it very clear that if Ironwood had survived, the story would not have supported a redemption.) RWBY has messed up its redemption arcs and its falls, leaving characters like Salem with nowhere to go. No matter what happens, it’s going to look ridiculous when compared to someone else.

As much as Salem’s horrific backstory and motivations (just wanting to die already, no matter who she takes with her) creates moments where I agree that she should be cut some narrative slack… more often my frustration with how other characters have been handled wins out. I still can’t believe the story expects me to laugh with Emerald after it spent so many Volumes dragging Ozpin and was in the midst of turning on Ironwood. If that’s the feeling attached to her, I can only imagine the amount of frustration we'd all feel if they really did go and forgive Salem. With Robyn, Emerald, and Tyrian, Volume 8 established a strong trend of the heroes putting more faith in villains and unknown parties than they do their allies with proven track records, even if that history also, inevitably, comes with some disagreements and mistakes. Without a clear reason for why this is occurring, it’s just bad writing. As you say: confused. Salem may someday follow that pattern and I’m happy for those future fans who will be pleased with the result… but yeah, there’s an element of, “This just feels insulting” there.

Especially since the show and fandom alike have a history of glossing over her horrible choices even before she was an outright villain. There’s no acknowledgement that Salem became Ozpin and her children's abuser. Or that she raised her army built on a lie (frankly, the thing the fandom claims Ozpin does with the schools and likewise condemns him for). Or that, according to the Fairy Tale collection, she didn’t mind sacrificing countless fighters provided someone eventually killed her father and granted her freedom. There’s a lot to Salem’s character outside of the more straightforward, villainous acts like “Wants to destroy the world” and that’s important because the show and fandom keep framing such acts as more horrific than said villainous acts. Fans don’t hate Adam because he was a killer, they hate him because he was an abuser. Fans don’t hate Ozpin for big mistakes like making himself King, but the smaller stuff like keeping secrets, twisting the truth, or—through some interpretations—being willing to sacrifice others for what he considers a greater good. Fans obviously hate Ironwood for things like the shootings and bomb threats, but just as much there’s a focus on the creepy hand on Winter’s shoulder, or the fact that he shouted at subordinates. These personal, relatable sins are often given more weight than the cartoonish “and then they tried to blow something up” acts and it’s important to remember that Salem embodies all of this. She's done all the things that other characters are denounced for, so even if the show decided that being the Big Bad was forgivable, we’re still left with a woman who has done so much else that the show has highlighted as unforgivable. Her actions are both so much greater than our flawed heroes’ and her other actions are equal to what those heroes were condemned for in the first place. Salem’s future isn’t in a good place here and that’s due entirely to the show 100% condemning some characters and 100% forgiving others, all without any cohesive moral code to follow.

Really, the only way I think Salem could be redeemed without there being a lot of frustration attached (but probably still some because you can never please everyone) is if RWBY was a show where second chances were upheld as a right for everyone, no matter what they’d done. That’s partly why Avatar the Last Airbender worked. Yes, Zuko’s redemption was excellently done (and his mistakes far less severe), but the show benefited greatly from having a protagonist who maintained a clear moral code of everyone deserving that second chance. It’s why we were able to get an ending of him refusing to kill Ozai and that feeling right, rather than absurd because Aang had happily killed a bunch of other people along the way. We weren’t grappling with the question, “Why did flawed Joe deserve death, but Super Evil Bad Man doesn’t?” Same with Steven Universe. That’s a situation where not everyone was happy—I personally think redeeming space conquerors/slavers with hugs was a bit much even for a kid’s show—but it’s not bad writing within the show because Steven was always, all about forgiveness. He extends it to everyone. So even if we don't agree with the message, we can't deny that it's consistent.

Ruby is not about forgiveness. She used to be. There’s a reason why I was once so proud of her for extending a hand to Raven, because back then I thought we had a character/moral code like that which governed Avatar and Steven Universe. But then RWBY made it very clear that no, second chances aren’t for everyone. More than that, some people have to work for/be punished for their second chances, whereas others don’t…. and the logic doesn’t add up there, with the lesser sins being the ones that need the most work and the greater sins laughed off. RWBY had a very easy setup of, “Everyone has worth in this world, even if they’re super evil witches hell-bent on destroying the world.” Most fans will happily get behind that because it’s hopeful and speaks to anyone watching who likewise feel like they’re too bad to be forgiven … but then RWBY blew it. The treatment of Adam, Ozpin, Emerald, and Ironwood obliterated that straightforward moral code and now we’re left with a situation where Salem can’t be redeemed or condemned without it coming across as ridiculous in the grand scheme of things. As we've said of so much else lately: RWBY backed itself into a corner.

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (18/18)

Chapter 18/Epilogue: We Could Go Places

Madelyn finally earns her happy ending.

“With my brains and your looks, we could go places.” - Frank Chambers as played by John Garfield (The Postman Always Rings Twice, 1946)

That’s all she wrote! Thank you to anyone to joined me on this wonderful journey! 😭

[read on Ao3] | [series masterpost]

June 22nd, 1958

“You’re late.”

Madelyn laughed at the sound of Nick’s voice, calling out to her the moment she arrived at the agency that morning, the bell above the front door indicating her presence. Her amusement persisted as she walked through the lobby, observing the care packages that filled the space. Even Ellie’s desk was covered with boxes and flower bouquets—more than what had been present the previous evening, or the day before that. There were more gifts scattered throughout the room, all sent in congratulations after news of Valentine Detective Agency’s success spread across Boston. Taking down Eddie Winter was one thing but solving a decade-old missing persons case and exposing a government conspiracy was another. Nobody expected the ragtag detective and his lawyer broad to take expose the Institute—not that anybody knew the university were hiding such abhorrent secrets in the first place.

She leaned against the doorway of Nick’s office, surprised by the lack of clutter that typically covered his desk. The stacks of case files and reports had been boxed away, leaving the room the cleanest she’d seen in years. Well, except for the small sprinkling of cigarette ash on the oak wood that he’d failed to hide—hell would freeze over before Nick Valentine gave up that habit. All that remained on his desk, aside from the usual decorations, was a single newspaper and a bottle of Irish whiskey, two perfectly poured glasses on standby. A Sunday tradition. 

Madelyn grinned. “I think I’m right on time.”

“I wonder if Grace Kelly received this many flowers when she won best actress,” she joked, walking over to take her usual seat in the armchair to the left.

Nick chuckled, rounding the desk to join her with the two glasses in hand, the bottle and newspaper tucked under his arm. “I’ll let you know when I start feeling like a Princess.”

“You should see Piper’s office,” he added, passing her one whiskey-filled glass and the weekend edition of Publick Occurrences before sitting down. “Gal’s been flooded with offers from all over the state, including the Bugle, to run their editorial departments.”

“She’ll never take them,” Madelyn contended. “She has enough resources and connections to finally fund a full staff. Maybe finally move into a bigger office and give us the space back so we can do the same.”

Even though Nick smiled at the idea, he reeled in his excitement. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Madelyn feigned innocence, shrugging as she hid her grin behind a generous gulp of whiskey.

He glanced at her curiously, smiling against the rim of his cup as he also took a drink. He expertly diverted the conversation. “So, where were you this morning?”

She considered lying just for the fun of it, but decided the truth was just as shocking. “Church.”

“Madelyn Hardy, once again attending Sunday mass,” Nick replied, shaking his head in humorous disbelief. “I thought I’d never see the day.”

Neither did she. Madelyn was sure she had lost her faith the day her husband died, buried it along with Nate to be forgotten. His death, and her survival was more than guilt—it was sin. And then, one New Year’s Eve party later, everything changed. She’d been tested over the last several months, and despite the grief and the loss, she was also at peace. Nate was at peace. Somewhere along the way, she’d found salvation.

“You could say I’m a changed woman.”

Nick considered her words in comfortable silence, the two slowly drinking their whiskey while exchanging soft, lingering smiles. It was reminiscent of the ‘good-ol-days’, but calmer. He said what she was already thinking. “I’ve changed too. We all have.”

Madelyn contemplated asking if he had any regrets, or if everything they had done was for the best when he silently gestured towards the newspaper draped across her lap. She glanced down, smirking at Piper’s headline. Reunited!

“She’s finally learned to reel it in,” she jested, looking over the picture of Shaun Pearlman—now eleven years old—standing with his parents, Nathan and Nora.

“After such headlines as The Boogeyman Banished, and The Synthetic Truth,” Nick’s laughter was at the expense of their dearest reporter friend. “The article speaks for itself. It’ll take some adjusting, but the kid will be alright.”

Madelyn studied the family portrait again, focusing on their smiling, overjoyed faces. “It isn’t everyday that somebody gets a happy ending.”

“They’ve earned it,” Nick remarked, just the slightest hint of sorrow passing through his light green eyes. Jenny—the heartache would never go away. He remained silent, but his smirk slowly returned, encouraging her to continue reading through the newspaper.

Inside, there was a picture of Hancock—John McDonough—formally announcing his plans to run for mayor in the 1959 election. He had already been working with the interim mayor after his brother’s death, ensuring that any lingering Institute corruption was snuffed out. His platform hadn’t changed much—of the people, for the people—and judging by the large outpouring of support, a lot of Bostonians dug what he was offering.

“Are you going to vote for him?” Madelyn teased, chuckling when Nick grumbled a sigh and rolled his eyes without an answer.

There was another article about Preston Garvey and his Minutemen, reclaiming their post in Quincy now that the Gunners had been successfully chased out of town. MacCready had found a place in their ranks, grinning like the sun was shining out of his ass in the group picture that accompanied the article. It was a good fit for the former mercenary, even if Preston was a little weary about accepting him at first. The network of neighborhood watchmen were supported by the newly reformed Boston Police, Sergeant Danny Sullivan himself promising to oversee their continued partnership.

Correction—Deputy Chief Danny Sullivan—earning quite the promotion after the fall of the Institute exposed and removed more corrupted individuals from power. He was running his own campaign, recruiting the best and brightest minds to fill the ranks throughout Boston’s precincts with the promise that integrity and stability were there to stay.

“Still have a long way to go,” Nick commented, his distrust of the system would linger too. “But it’s a start.”

Madelyn nodded in agreement, flicking her eyes to another one of Piper’s headlines—Mr. Danse Goes to Washington.

“He’s not going to be happy when he finds out about this,” she laughed.

“The Lieutenant will get over being compared to Jimmy Stewart,” Nick replied. “The man’s a war hero, isn’t he?”

Her laughter continued as she read over the article, trying not to imagine Lieutenant Danse in a comedic movie from the past, and instead as the dignified officer he was. The headline was tongue in cheek but accurate—he’d gone to Washington, D.C. to testify on capitol hill about what occurred at Fort Hagen between the Institute and the United States military. He’d also promised Nick and Madelyn that he’d watch over the federal investigation closely, ensuring another cover-up didn’t take place.

“Here,” Nick spoke, standing to snag a second, unseen Publick Occurrences from his desk. “Special edition. Hot off the presses, as Piper would say.”

Madelyn exchanged copies with him, setting down her glass so she could examine the front headline closely. Valentine and Hardy—The Unstoppables.

“So are you the Silver Shroud or The Inspector?” she giggled, covering her mouth.

“Ha, ha, Mistress of Mystery,” he retorted sarcastically, sitting back down across from her.

There was a picture of them standing in front of the office building, the neon light of the agency sign burning brilliantly behind them. The longer she stared at it, the larger her smile became, warmth radiating through her body. She’d never felt more proud or honored to be a part of something important. She felt at home.  

“This is going to give you more exposure than you’ve ever had,” she remarked, tapping the paper with her fingers. “There’s going to be people lining out the door asking for your help!”

“Our help,” Nick corrected with a small smile, leaning forward in his chair. “That is, if you’re still up to the task of being my partner.”

“Of course Nick,” Madelyn answered immediately, unable to stop from grinning. “You’d be hard pressed to find a woman as willing as I am to put up with your brand of bullshit.”

He laughed, louder and heartier than she’d heard him sound in a long time. “Has anyone ever told you how charming you are?”

Madelyn tilted her head to the side. “Funny you should mention that.”

The laughter settled into quiet mirth as Nick looked into his empty glass with a sigh. “I need a vacation first.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he echoed. “Starting with a proper meal. Care to join me?”

Any other time and Madelyn would’ve said yes. She frowned as she shook her head. “I have a date.”

“That’s nothing to pout about,” Nick smirked. The detective—her partner—regarded her with a warm smile. “I can forgive you this one time.”

The warmth had settled in her heart, and she wondered if she was glowing as she smiled at him, the happiest she’d felt in years. Nick reached over to gently clasp her hand, squeezing her fingers as he spoke. “It’s a good look, Madelyn.”

She stood up, leaning over the small distance to place a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Sure, sure,” he watched her as she left, lingering only for a moment in the doorway. “See you later, doll.”  

Madelyn sat in the vinyl blue booth of the Slocum’s Joe, gazing out the window and watching as people passed by on the sidewalk. Cambridge wasn’t nearly as busy since the Institute’s downfall, but hundreds of people still called considered the Boston neighborhood their home—including her. She’d made occasional trips to her apartment in the last few weeks but had only recently started living in D7 again now that she was sure it was safe. Codsworth and Dogmeat were more than pleased to have her home, the Mister Handy unit suffering a bout of anxiety after being separated from his mistress—even if it shouldn’t have been possible with his programing. Even now, the robot had difficulty letting her out of his sight, and she laughed when she noticed Codsworth across the street, hovering about as he walked Dogmeat, a leash tied to one of his metal arms.

“What’s so funny?”

She glanced up to find Deacon setting down two cups of coffee before sliding into the booth across from her. Two sugars and a little bit of cream for her, straight black for him. He wasn’t in his usual suit, swapped out for something far more casual and befitting for summer, black wig left forgotten on her bedside table. Of course, he’d never leave without securing his sunglasses—his eyes were only for her to see.

Madelyn titled her head, gesturing out the window as she took a slow sip. “It seems I’m always destined to have somebody stalking me.”

“I take offense to that,” he held a hand over his chest, feigning attack from her teasing words. “To imply that I stalked you.”

Madelyn struggled to contain her giggling behind her cup. “Hmm, and what would you call it?”

“Careful observation from afar,” he said, brows furrowing for a moment as he inspected the contents of his coffee before taking a careful taste—always with the suspicion. You can’t trust everyone, even the barista at their regular coffeehouse, it seemed.  

“What would you call it now?”

Deacon smirked at her flirtatious question. “An up-close and personal liaison.”

Madelyn smiled, her heart racing in excitement as it usually did when they danced around this subject. There still hadn’t been much of a discussion—or a confession—since their infiltration of the Institute. No clear conversation about what their relationship meant. It didn’t stop them from acting like lovers, a constant stop-and-go ever since the evening she got shot, pausing when they needed to focus on the case instead of romance. Now that there were no more distractions, what she desperately yearned for was full steam ahead. She darted her eyes back out the window, forcing her mind to stop before she spiraled into anxiety and doubt. She was happy—right?

Deacon’s hand reached over the table to cover hers. “Do you want to go to D.C.?”

She glanced back to his face, momentarily surprised by his question. Any joke she thought about making—that everybody was going south—fell away. “With you?”

His expression faltered. “No, with Drummer Boy,” he said sarcastically.  

“I dunno,” she nervously laughed, humor the only defense mechanism she could rely on. “Robby makes for a pretty good date when you aren’t—”

“Charmer,” he groaned, fingers tightening around hers, even though a smile dared to pull at his lips.

“Is this one of your business trips?” she persisted. “Or would this be for pleasure?”

“Why can’t it be both?” he responded, and it sounded witty enough, except all traces of humor had disappeared. “Can’t you tell when a guy is trying to be serious?”

Madelyn swallowed, and released a shaky breath. “What is it?”

Deacon didn’t say anything, and she was afraid she’d scared him off with her teasing. Minutes passed before he finally reached up and removed the darkened shades from his face, placing them on the table next to their forgotten coffee cups. Blue eyes locked on blue, but still, he remained silent.

“What do you want?” she prompted, slowly turning her hand over to lace their fingers. “Deacon?”

She’d seen that emotion in his eyes before—just last week—when he tried to tell her something important, and she denied him the opportunity. This time, she wasn’t afraid.

“I want…”

“Je t’aime,” she answered, filling the silence when he trailed off. His eyes widened, the shock quickly subsiding as a bright smile pulled at his lips. Madelyn knew it was a simple saying, but still translated. “I love you.”

“I—”

Not everyday that Deacon was at a loss for words. He suddenly moved, slipping out from his side of the booth and swiftly sliding in to join her. Madelyn turned to meet him, laughing as the butterflies swarmed her stomach like she was experiencing this—love—again, all for the first time. He leaned in close so only she could hear.

“Je t’aime,” he repeated with an ever-growing smile. “I love you too.”

There was nothing left to say, so he kissed her instead. Madelyn smiled against his lips, sighing when his arms wrapped around her in a warm embrace. Deacon was still grinning when they parted, eyes shining with an emotion she wanted to keep there forever. He pulled her close, and she rested her head against his shoulder, switching her gaze back outside.

The sun was shining, and she was happy.

Familiarity

For: @samantha-girlscout

From: @frenchcirce

The lovely Sam asked for something fun and fluffy, if possible about minor characters. I hope I won’t disappoint with this little story about a blooming friendship (or more hehehe). I’m rusty and it shows, but I did my best!

“Welcome to Shibuya Psychic Research… Oh Masako! What a surprise, we were not expecting you!”

Masako watched with hidden amusement Mai’s expression change from her perfunctory professional smile to wide, surprised eyes to a happy welcoming grin in less than two seconds.

The girl really was an open book.

“Good evening,” she greeted back in cool politeness, eyeing intently the door Mai was still holding half-closed. “May I come in?”

“Ah sorry, of course!”

Mai had the decency to look ashamed while opening the door in full and making way for Masako to step in.

“But what brings you here exactly?” Mai asked with furrowed brows. “Because if you’re here to see Naru–”

Masako shot her an annoyed glance. Was that a proper way to welcome visitors?

“What do you think I came for?” she interrupted, determined to mirror Mai’s level of rudeness. “Work of course.”

“Ah, but–”

Masako ignored Mai to greet Yasuhara, who was coming back to his desk with several folders in hand. He stopped and saluted politely, and Masako shot Mai a significant glance. At least someone here had manners.

“Yasuhara-san. Good evening.”

“Hara-san,” the young man answered.

“Hara-san,” echoed a sharp voice behind her.

Naru.

Masako smiled despite herself. She turned to greet him back, but Naru passed her without stopping, his features set in this focused look he only sported when he was absorbed with this work.

“Mai, get ready, we should be on our way already.”

The smile on her lips fell as suddenly as it had appeared, and Masako thought it wiser to hide her treacherous mouth behind her kimono sleeve.

She regretted stopping by the office already. It was obvious Naru had other plans and would only see her presence as a bother.

“Geez Naru, we’re not even a minute late!” Mai scolded.

Naru put his coat on with a little more determination than necessary and glared at his assistant. Mai didn’t flinch, too used to being the aim of his death stares.

“Plus Masako is here for a case, it may be important, you know?”

That made Naru pause.

Mai let out a triumphant huff and Masako tried to ignore the pang of disappointment in her stomach.

Work. Of course. She only existed in his eyes through work..

“Is it an urgent matter, Hara-san?”

Even the way he was addressing her was ever mindful of putting a respectable distance between them. The very professional Hara-san.

She despised the honorifics in his mouth.

Masako bit her lip, tempted to lie and say the case needed his immediate attention. But the bitter reminder that deceiving Naru had proven to be a poor choice, always, made her reconsider.

She shook her head. “No, it can wait.”

The flicker of interest in Naru’s gaze died immediately and Masako could only watch him forget her presence altogether. He went back to glaring at Mai who took too long to get ready, and Mai, of course, was glaring right back at him while haphazardly throwing things into her purse and berating him for his lack of manners.

The situation was nothing out of the ordinary, really. If anything it should have been comical, the way those two were arguing. But Masako caught herself clenching her jaw.

Surprised by the surge of jealousy she forced her muscles to relax, grateful for the secrecy her sleeve was providing.

She had thought she was over it, over him.

Yet the intimate, almost fond way Naru called Mai, just Mai, had made her yearn for the level of closeness those two were sharing.

Why couldn’t she just be Masako?

Masako willed herself to smother the embers of longing in her heart. It was just a stupid name, it was no reason to feel inadequate and lonely. She knew where Naru’s affections lay, and she had made peace with the situation a long time ago.

She couldn’t let herself get troubled over this.

She schooled her features and allowed her sleeve to drop, revealing her best neutral expression. Thankfully Mai and Naru were too busy bickering to notice her discomfort.

She took a steadying breath, her mind racing to find a dignified way to make her exit. Whatever she had to say about her case could wait until she recovered.

“I see my timing is most inconvenient,” she started, satisfied by the firmness of her voice. “Maybe–”

“On the contrary, your timing is perfect Hara-san.”

Masako bristled, startled. Yasuhara. She had almost forgotten his presence.

“I was about to have a cup of tea and some company would be appreciated, if you don’t mind staying.”

Masako turned her head slowly to face him, slightly panicking.

Did he notice her little display of jealousy?

She found him smiling politely like usual, his penetrative gaze unreadable behind his spectacles.She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge his intentions.

His intervention did spare her the embarrassment of leaving like the unwanted guest she was, but Yasuhara was known for having his own agenda. What exactly did he want her for?

She hesitated a moment, but the option he was offering was less mortifying than being shooed out so she gave her assent with a graceful nod.

“That would be my pleasure,” she muttered

Yasuhara grinned widely, his gaze leaving her for Mai. Who had stopped putting her coat on to look between Yasuhara and Masako, an insufferable knowing smirk blooming onto her lips. Masako refrained an exasperated roll of her eyes. For someone supposedly so instinctive her friend could be quite oblivious.

“I’ll let you enjoy some quality time together, you lucky ones–” Mai smiled, the teasing light in her eyes soon disappearing as she remembered the actual reason why she was heading out “–while I do Naru’s biding. Can you believe it? He is using me as his henchman to carry his heavy stuff!”

“And I pay you for it, so you have no ground for complaining,” the young man tersely countered, his hand tapping the door handle impatiently.

Mai stuck out her tongue at him but obediently followed nonetheless when he kept the door open for her.

“Yeah, yeah I know. See you later guys! ” she waved.

“Yasuhara, you can close the office when you’re finished, I won’t come back.”

“Understood boss. See you tomorrow, Taniyama-san!”

After a brief nod en lieu of a goodbye Naru shut the door, leaving Masako alone with Yasuhara in a silent office.

Masako realized with a start it was the first time she had to deal with Yasuhara without Mai or the SPR extras around. It was somehow unnerving.

The awkward atmosphere drew for a few moments before Yasuhara dispelled it with a practiced host smile.

“Please take a seat Hara-san. I’ll be back immediately.”

He then disappeared in the little kitchen, the sound of of clattering cups soon filling the void Mai’s chatter had left.

Masako let herself drop on the nearest sofa with a tired sigh.  

She shouldn’t have come.

It had been a mistake using this case as an excuse to see Naru. She should have just called, but she had been looking forward to chatting with Mai, too.

Mai. If only she hadn’t shown this stupidly genuine smile when she had recognized her at the door. If only she could hate Mai and blame her for the heartache.

Of course she couldn’t.

Because of the happy way she called her Masako. That was what had started their friendship, the unaffected way Mai was treating her, calling her by her first name. Like she had done with Naru.

“If only she wasn’t so familiar,” she sighed out loud.

“I suppose you’re talking about Taniyama-san?”

Masako almost gasped. How come she hadn’t heard Yasuhara approaching? She was starting to believe he was making a point catching her off guard.

The young man was standing right in front of her, a tray in hand and a slightly amused smile on the lips. He didn’t wait for her to confirm and carefully put their two mugs on the table.

“Speaking of whom, she’s the one who made the tea, so it is safe drinking.”

Masako took the cup wordlessly, trying to hide her blush with the motion. She hoped he hadn’t hear the resentment in her voice.

“She does act too familiar,” she defended meekly.

Yasuhara sat on the couch, putting the empty tray next to him.

“It is what makes her so easy to befriend–”

Or to love, Masako thought wryly. But didn’t dare say it out loud.

“–Let’s say that’s part of her charm.”

Yasuhara’s voice was even and light, but Masako could swear there was something in the undertone. Something deeper and darker.

It was as if…

Oh. Oh.

She put her cup back on the table, her full attention now on him. It was time to ask about something that had bothered her for quite some time, and to confirm her little theory.

“Is that why you keep calling her by her family name? To avoid falling pry to her charm?”

The question was asked in a mundane manner, but the atmosphere shifted as soon as the words left her mouth.

She watched Yasuhara’s reaction closely. His easy going smile tightened and his back straightened imperceptibly in a rare display of discomfort.

Touché.

He recovered at an impressive speed though, flashing a playful grin.

“Would you believe it if I told you it is out of pure politeness?”

Masako arched doubtful eyebrows.

“No.”

The unexpected bluntness of the answer had Yasuhara laughing out loud. He sighed in mock defeat and looked at Masako with something akin to appreciation.

“I figured.”

Masako should have felt relieved. She had the upper hand in their conversation since she had confirmed what she suspected about Yasuhara’s inclinations. However it was sympathy instead of triumph that was creeping into her chest.

Funny how sharing a similar pain could make you feel closer to someone.

In the meanwhile Yasuhara had engrossed himself in the thoughtful contemplation of his mug. It was the one Mai, Ayako and Masako had bought him right before Naru had left.

“You know,” he mused with a half-smile, “you’re the first one to ever ask.”

His gaze was unexpectedly honest behind his glasses, and Masako’s scruples about having wrangled this secret out of him vanished at the sight. How lonely must he have been, bearing the weight of his feelings by himself?

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said softly, ‘they’re all idiots.”

That earned a chuckle from Yasuhara, and his lips turned into a boyish grin which spoke of mischief.

“How dare you call big boss an idiot!”

Masako couldn’t help a laugh at the mock offence. If felt good to make fun of Naru after this disastrous evening.

“He deserves it,” she huffed. “He and Mai are two peas in a pod in that regard.”

The memory of Mai teasing them about having tea together had Masako wrinkle her nose in distaste. There should be a limit to obliviousness! Poor Yasuhara.

“And the rest of them are no better,” she resumed after a thoughtful pause, “You never denied you liked Mai but you never made any fuss about it, so people just assumed your feelings weren’t deep. That was actually a really clever way to hide it, provided you didn’t give her special treatment calling her Taniyama-san, of course.”

Yasuhara raised falsely scandalized eyebrows.

“That’s a flawed argument, I call you Hara-san too.”

Masako pressed her lips together in displeasure. Everyone was putting her at a distance with these stupid honorifics. It made her feel left out somehow.

“You do,” she admitted, ignoring the sting of the comment. “You give almost everyone else a nickname though, even your elders. As you junior and your closest colleague it would be normal you called Mai by her given name. Especially since everyone but you does.”

Yasuhara put his hands up in surrender.

“I can’t hide anything from you, Hara-san. You’re far too observant.”

Masako shook her head, a wry smile on her mouth.

“No, I’m just another victim of Mai’s familiarity. I tried to keep my distance from her the same way. And now I call her Mai and can’t help thinking of her as a friend,” she grumbled. “How am I supposed to compete against someone like her?”

Yasuhara took a sip from his mug and leaned into the couch.

“You think you have it bad?” he asked in a joking tone. “I was doomed from the start! Having big boss as an opponent was terrible, he put my good looks and intellect to shame!”

Masako put her finger on her chin, falsely pensive.

“You’re right, I can at least console myself thinking I’m the more beautiful of the two. You don’t have such a luxury I’m afraid…”

Yasuhara made a face and clutched his heart as if mortally wounded.

“Hara-san, have some mercy!”

Masako couldn’t help but laugh at the theatrics. It reminded her of the Yoshimi’s case, when Yasuhara had raised everyone’s spirit just by joking with Bou-san. Making fun of himself for the sake of others.

“It’s better to admit the hard truth,” she deadpanned. “By the way,” her tone softened, “I owe you some thanks for today.”

A flash of understanding passed in Yasuhara’s gaze. Masako wondered if today’s scene had been painful for him, too.

The man really had a good heart, it was a shame he got it broken.

Did Mai even know what she was missing?

“Not at all. Actually, I’ve wanted to talk with you for quite a while. I never got the chance to ask before today, I figured it was now or never.”

“I-Is that so?”

Masako couldn’t determine if Yasuhara was trying to spare her feelings or if he was sincere, but she appreciated he made it look like he really wanted to get know her better. She had had enough of feeling unwanted for the day.

“Thank you for asking then.” She let a sincere, grateful smile brighten her lips. “I’m glad I stayed.”

Yasuhara’s eyes widened like he just realized something, and his own mouth split into a hearty grin before letting a hearty laugh out.

“I’m grateful you accepted my invitation,” he said. “I should have done this a lot earlier. It really cheered me up and I feel up to some competition after all,” he muttered.

He ignored Masako’s questioning stare and flashed his best charming smile.

“What about we do this again some other time Hara-san…”

He hesitated a second.

“Or do you mind if I call you Masako?”

Masako nodded wordlessly, ignoring the blush the use of her name was putting on her cheeks.

Masako.

A word that started a friendship.

And for some reason she didn’t mind the familiarity in his mouth.

Just a story I wrote a while back and never posted.

Tags: Tyler/Kyle - Freeform, Prince Kyle, Marquess Tyler, Archduchess Charlotte, Archduchess Helen, King Franklin, King Franklin is an Asshole, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Charlotte is a Scary Woman, Kyle is a Shy Child A story based off of a roleplay scenario that myself and friends had come up with. All of the characters mentioned are original and belong to my friends and I; so please do not use without my permission. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 1: Royalty: Until We Meet Again Kyle drummed his fingers on his leg, watching the rolling hills pass as his carriage clobbers along. His father was seated beside him, similarly bored and exhausted from the long journey. Kyle lets out a long suffering sigh, slumping with the knowledge that the day ahead was going to be very boring indeed. Carriages in front and behind were also carrying small groups of noblemen and women to the same destination, one such carriage held a remarkable noble family. Tyler's family. Tyler has a Remarkable family in the sense that he had two mothers, whom share their powers equally. They are a strong diarchy, even though they were totally pacifist. The two arch duchesses preferred to concentrate on resources and care of their subjects. Unfortunately, they were considered a lower power due to the fact they had no military and had only one heir to the bloodline. However, this does not stop the two Archduchesses from being a formidable political opponent. Their skills in negotiation and moderation were unparalleled. They expected absolute respect from all, and anyone who opposed them would be... Educated. The young prince Kyle awoke from a broken sleep by his father. Their carriage had stopped, and it was time to get out. His father dragged him from the comfort of the carriage and out into a large hall. Kyle was coming along because of 'Political Education' or something similarly ridiculous. As important as it was, as far as Kyle was concerned it just seemed to be a bunch of stuffy old men and women bickering and pretending to like each other for a few hours. Not far behind were Marquess Tyler and his mothers' carriage. The three exit, assisted by a couple of attendants. They moved inside along with everyone else and into the Hall to socialise a little before the meeting was called. All around were Knights, earls, and various other noblemen and women all talking of business. Talk of recent wars, treaties, trade agreements and even marriages. It saddened the young prince, who was stuck listening about one such marriage, that two people were pushed together with little to no say in the matter, before any form of feeling had developed. Just like the one Kyle's father had arranged for him. Alas, that was the fate of royalty in this world, and one must accept that. Some short few minutes pass then; the chatter fades into hushed mumbles and respectful silence at the entrance of the formidable Duchess Charlotte, clad in a deep purple gown and silver accessories, the beautiful Duchess Helen in a warm red trailing gown, ornamented with golden thread. Behind the two women strode in the dashing marquess Tyler, wearing a striking black tunic and leggings, a spectrum of colour seeming to glitter from under the fabric like stars in the night. Gazing at the new group, Kyle felt small- literally and figuratively. His blue and white outfit made him feel unimportant and meek. They were also standing tall with Tyler at five foot and six inches, while he was a mere five foot two. He stowed himself away quickly to avoid feeling even less important, but his mind had a different idea. He couldn't remove the image of the two women's son; tall, dark and handsome. The meeting was called to begin, so the three took their seats, which resulted in Tyler sitting right next to the young prince Kyle. Tyler doesn't seem to notice him, as he sits patiently watching straight ahead, straight backed and calm faced, surely a perfect heir. Kyle attempted to look dignified beside the perfect man beside him, though all this seemed to do was make him look like a common man next to a royal. As the meeting wore on, an expression of great boredom and distaste etched its way on to Tyler's face. Mutterings of hatred left his lips as he glared at the current speaker, whom was lecturing the matriarchs of the room on their under-qualification and general uselessness as rulers. This rant had particularly been aimed at the Arch Duchesses Charlotte and Helen as they still have neither plan nor intention on building armies or navies. This continues for a good ten minutes until Charlotte's agitation finally boils over. She refused to be spoken of in this manner, and refused to let it go unnoticed. She stands, and her voice boomed over all noise in the room "How dare you speak of myself and the other maidens present! We have had to work twice as hard to gain our titles then twice again to sit in this Hall, and you DARE call our lives easy! You know not of the things you speak. So if you do wish to keep that privilege I bid you be SILENT" To Kyle's relief, the room does indeed go silent. Even his father was quiet, which was out of the ordinary, as he would usually mumble under his breath about something or another to get someone riled up and then they'd no longer be in good standing. He did miss being on good terms with the majority of the nobility here. Time passes before the other Duchess, Duchess Helen, began to speak. Her gentle voice was enticing and captured the attention of any who listened, and she spoke of an important event. The upcoming marriage of her only son, Tyler, and the young prince Kyle. The prince froze in shock and fear in equal measure, as he had never known who he was to be married to, only that he would. He couldn't believe that the terrifying man beside him would be his future husband. Everything else the woman said was tuned out into the background as he fiddled with his sash, thinking of how his future would unfold. After this minor shock, Tyler settled back into his seat and continued to listen to the meeting. He voiced his own opinions and even got into debates with people, which many of the children of the other nobles wouldn't dare do. His voice remained calm and measured while he spoke, but he was also firm and even a bit passionate, which Kyle seemed to find easier to listen to and follow. He never attempted to gloss over or sugar-coat anything, though he knew how to perfectly handle a sensitive subject. Some such subjects were the continued starvation in the frozen north lands, and the imbalance of wealth in the eastern territories. He argued for an improvement in the quality of life of the townspeople in a central and southern central kingdom. All three problems raised were promised to be dealt with and reported on to the relevant powers. Unfortunately tempers had been running thin in the south, which was the land that Kyle's father ruled over. His father had taken offence to the accusations Tyler had made, no matter how true they were. Kyle notices his father’s shortening temper and attempts to silently reason with him, which fails. He turns back to Tyler, listening to him and praying to whatever powers may be that his father doesn't try to do or say anything to anger Tyler. This also gets totally ignored. "Yes our kingdoms have their problems, but you can hardly think of yours as perfect can you?" Franklin retorts spitefully. Kyle groans internally, of course his father had to argue. He also knew that he was about to be, quite literally, in the middle of this. Rather than yell, Tyler turns to the leering king and smiles. A sickly sweet smile dripping with poisonous hatred. "Oh, I do apologise." he says eerily calm. "But I believe the answer to your question is no. Years and years of peace, no famine nor infection and only a short drought. Our kingdom is not perfect, though compared to yours it is a paradise. Our kingdom has helped yours on numerous occasions in case you may have forgotten. Do you remember the months of drought when the only source of water came from our generous kingdom? Do you remember the year of famine when whole families starved to death and only the donations of other kingdoms kept your subjects alive? And let us not forget those wars that YOU started, knowing you couldn't fund the care of your injured afterwards. And yet again you had to depend on others to drag your sorry ass out of debt. Where did you spend that money we gave you? Oh yes I remember. On another banquet after another unnecessary war while hundreds died of very treatable wounds." Franklin frowns and sits down. "Do forgive me for my insolence," he mutters quietly. Tyler sits, with a slightly smug look on his face that made Kyle smile slightly. It had been a long time since his father had been dragged through the mud like this, and it sort of made him happy. The meeting continues, with leering looks thrown at the shamed King Franklin, with a few directed at Kyle but he was frankly too happy to care. The meeting drew to a close after five eventful hours. Kyle got out of his seat, and paused. He considered talking to Tyler quickly before he was forced to depart and, thankfully he seemed in no hurry to leave. Kyle taps his shoulder to gain the taller mans attention. "Those were some excellent points you made" He says shyly Tyler smiled warmly at him. "Oh, thank you," he replied. "And, you must be Kyle. If I am correct?" Kyle nods, "And you are presumably Tyler." The tall man looks at Kyle with a soft gaze. "You are so much more stunning than your portraits suggested" he mumbles Kyle goes as red as a rose at the complement. "T-Thank you. And... Well... It’s nice to know who I will be marrying," he manages to stutter out. "Yes, that was quite the wonderful surprise." Tyler agrees. "Well I wish I could stay longer, but my father's patience is thin. Farewell, Tyler." "Until we meet again, Farewell,"