#560 words

[fanfictiona03]

Call Him Love by Itsallfine

John always calls Sherlock love, so their son believes that is Sherlock's name. Super cute short story that is just pure fluff! It really pulled my heart strings and I just wanted to give little Hamish a big hug.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891076

Author’s Tumblr

[stories-by-rie]

63 A Bad Deal

"Jill", it bellowed as the door flew open. Half of the heads turned to the man walking into the bar.

The others just pretended like nothing was happening, trying to hide how annoyed they were by the upcoming situation.

"Jill, you betrayed me", the man gnarled between his teeth, his eyes sharp. He barged up towards the bar keeper, a woman in her forties perhaps. Her hair was dyed black and hung over her shoulders in unnatural culs. Her skin was tanned and the closer one would walk up to her, the stronger one would be able to smell her vanilla perfume.

"Lin. What an unsurprising visit", she replied to his calls with a faint smile on her lips. She kept drying the glasses and putting them back into the shelves.

"You said on the house. That's what you said", he barely managed to say. His face was red, his eyes looked as if he had cried and his brown hair was all untidy.

"And it was! All for free. On the house."

"That's the thing, you know", he stammered and put his hand on the bar desk. Little black feathers were emerging from his skin all over and with a closer look, it was easy to see that his whole body must have been suffering from the same condition.

Some gazes of those who didn't know what kind of bar they had walked into were resting on the two people arguing there. But it wasn't news to the other ones. It was even save to say that most of them had had that kind of argument themselves before.

"I asked for help, Jill. I wanted help to get through this life."

"You know that magic has a price."

"We both know that bullshit. Life has a price. Not magic."

"And what did you ask for?"

Lin pressed his teeth together and trembled with his fingers on the wood.

"Lin? What did you ask for?", a young woman who had suddenly appeared next to the man asked.

"Heather.. What are you doing here?"

"I started working here. Working on my potions and stuff.'"

Jill looked at the two, yet wouldn't stop to clean up the glasses.

"So what did you ask for?"

"To get through life."

"What?" Heather put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched in pain.

"I couldn't do it alone. I thought a little magic..."

"But why didn't you come to me?"

"I didn't want to bother you."

"Oh, Lin", she sighed and hugged him despite his pain. He let her and hugged back.

'So, everything is alright betwreen us?", Jill asked with her husked voice. The flashing blue and red light of an ambulance shone through the yellow windows of the bar for a moment as it drove by.

"Isn't there anything that could stop, all of this?", he asked and his voice cracked.

"A deal is a deal. Even if it is for free."

Lin looked at Jill and back at Heather. He would turn into a crow. There was no stopping it. He would get his life and lose it simultaneously.

"Come with me. I'll see if there's anything that can at least slow this down", Heather mumbled and fetched her phone, dialling a number. Her warm hand in his cold hand was something he could hold on to. At least for as long as he was a human.

~09.08.2019~

tagging @cawolters for flash fiction Friday

[royaltaemin]

tired of these punk ass nobles

Taemin has always been interested in kitchen gossip, what the servants have to say about the people they serve. When he worked in the inn as a child, he knew better than to say much to the other workers, as they didn't seem to respect him much. Their dislike of him was understandable, really, though he didn't realize why at the time: he was some random orphan dropped on their doorstep, a kid who didn't know anything about the world and tended to get into more trouble than he was worth, despite how he often tried to avoid it. 

But Taemin always listened to their gossip about the inn's customers. It was safer that way, to know who was kind and who wasn't, who to avoid whenever possible. Taemin figured that out quickly, and the instinct has stayed with him ever since. Even at the estate, after he was adopted, he continued to listen in on the servants' conversations whenever he got the chance. The servants at his estate never had anything bad to say, though, since they loved his family well. Taemin soon rid himself of the habit, quickly growing bored without all the interesting, hateful stuff.

When he moved to the castle, it didn't take him long to realize that many of the nobles there hated him and his family, and he soon got himself back in the habit of standing outside his chambers or the kitchens, listening to the servants within whisper to each other about him and the other nobles in the castle. It was much more difficult when he was on the other end of the gossip, for the servants hardly said a word more than "yes, m'lord" or "no, m'lord" whenever anyone of high birth was around. He figured out ways, though, lurking at doors for longer than he should and keeping his ears open whenever he could. 

Now, as he sits in his chambers, he pretends to read while he watches a servant boy sweep his floor. This servant has been around for years, from what Taemin's heard. His name is Sungjong, and from what Taemin's heard him say in hushed tones to the other servants, he's jealous of the fact that Taemin's father adopted him and eventually named him heir. And it's been a fairly dull day so far, so Taemin figures he may as well spice it up with a unique conversation. And anyway, maybe he can get Sungjong to trust him, if he's lucky. It'd be nice to know there was at least one servant in the castle who didn't hate him for things he couldn't control.

He lowers his book to his lap, using his hand to cover the page as if holding his place, though he hadn't actually processed a word of it. "Sungjong," he says, hoping to surprise the other with his knowledge of his name. "I've heard what you say about me. To the other servants. And I just want to let you know that I would have died if my father hadn't adopted me. He could have chosen any other boy off the streets of that town, but I was lucky enough for it to be me."

He leans back in his seat, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair as he meets the servant's eyes. "Do you hate me for that?"