#basement floor butlers

[cleferri]

「悪魔執事と黒い猫×Cinnamoroll」(1/2)

[herri-writes]

꧁Devil Butler with Black Cat Masterlist꧂

Devil's Palace Butlers

My Nocturnal Serenade - Devil Butler x Reader

Whispers In Your Sleep - Devil Butler x Reader

Bakla Sa Starbucks - Devil Butler x Reader Modern AU (Crack)

Master's Diary

Drunk French Lucas - Akuneko incorrect quotes

More Akuneko Incorrect Quotes With Kiit's Fic - Akuneko incorrect quotes

First Floor Butlers

Berrien Cliane

How To Apply Lip Balm With Berrien Cliane - Berrien Cliane x Reader

Nightglow - Berrien Cliane x Reader

Found You~ -  Berrien Cliane x Reader

Second Floor Butlers

Third Floor Butlers

Basement Floor Butlers

What A Small Mess + Extra - Basement Butlers x Reader (F)

Lato's Gift - Basement Butlers x Reader (F)

Villa Butlers

[getonite]

i've been busy the whole day, so i just now got around to watching s4 ep2 of black butler, and i—

hit me with it.

why do you look like a kicked puppy? my pussy's right here to make u feel better!!!

fuck me.

just go ahead and take the thing off for me hm?

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT

IDC HOW BASIC THIS TROPE IS, RAIL ME IN THE CONFESSIONAL RN. RIGHT. NOW. MY PUSSY IS WET AND READY FOR DEMON DICK.

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony,vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling.teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, ip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride.

I NEED HIM!!

+ bonus, a pretty boy

[elinorasims]

Lot Tour | Rock Ridge Castle Academy

World | Glimmerbrook Lot Size | 40 x 30 Value | Furnished 753,552 ; Unfurnished 204,816 Beds | 15 Baths | 8

CC | No Packs | Unrestricted

"In response to the Ministry of Occult Sims' astute advice that the tempestuous relations between Vampires, Werewolves, and Spellcasters be mended, and that occult Sims could reap many benefits through co-operation and joint ventures, Rock Ridge Castle has been host to budding occult teens for several generations, aiming to teach them how to harness their powers safely and collaborate to achieve great things together." Residential Rental Ver | 3 Units ; 152 simoleons/day Each unit comprises single occupancy butler's quarters in the basement, two shared bedrooms with space for three teens each on the upper floors, and two rooms on the top floor for YA/Adult occupancy - all other rooms in the building are shared. The gameplay idea I had here was that three 'families' of six teens (3 M, 3 F) with two YA/Adult 'teacher's occupy each of the three "rental units" - making, essentially, a mega academy style lot. I designed each 'unit' for a different occult type - vampire, werewolves, and spellcasters :3 fun or chaotic and stressful I dunno lol

INTERIOR

Ground Floor

Entry and main corridors with central 'winter garden' with domed glass ceiling. Communal library, den, art/music classroom, wc, potions classroom, dining room with shared kitchen facilities, herbology classroom, and meditation/'chapel' room.

First Floor

Four lightly themed bedrooms to sleep three teen sims each, two large communal bathrooms with shower, bath and wc stalls, den area, and candle making/misc classroom.

Second Floor

Divination classroom, woodworking/gemology classroom, two further communal bathroom areas, and two bedrooms to sleep 3 teen vampires each.

Third Floor

Six individual bedrooms for YA/Adults, two shared single bathroom spaces.

Basement

Large swimming pool, changing area, and laundry rooms. Butlers' quarters, storage rooms, and staff kitchen.

GROUNDS

FLOORPLANS + DOWNLOAD >>

[reticulating-splines]

WIP - West 70th

1880s-1910s row of Upper West Side townhomes.

Been working on this row of late 19th c. brownstones on and off for the past year now, so needless to say when I heard about For Rent I was hype.

Download Here

This initially started because I was homesick for NYC during the pandemic. Specifically for the area of the upper west side my dorm was in while I was a student. I mainly blame this experience for my obsession with historical architecture - walking along central park west past the Dakota on the way to the subway, smoking on the stoops of the brownstones late at night, going to classes in the wedding cake that is the Ansonia - it was just everywhere, and so, so beautiful to look at.

Except a lot of it is faded glory - buildings subdivided, details chipped or covered in the thickest coats of grime or paint. So I wanted to replicate some of the old New York from around the turn of the century. The one I read about in the Luxe series and saw in the Samantha movie lol.

The basement or garden level of each four-story brownstone will be dedicated to the original purpose as the main workplace of the service staff. Unfortunately no room for the actual garden, so laundry lines and planters are on the roof. There are bedrooms and bathrooms for a cook and a housekeeper/butler, along with the staff dining and the kitchen. The butler's pantry is directly upstairs from the kitchen, and the top floor is almost exclusively made up of staff bedrooms and washrooms.

I usually do the service areas first because they're the most interesting, and there was nothing more interesting than a full edwardian brownstone kitchen. Lots of exposed piping, beadboard, subway tile, and shelves of clutter. Has a separate scullery, pantry, and stairs down to a basement storeroom to keep your best champs-le-sims nectar in. There's also a servant's bellboard in the kitchen and the staff dining room. It along with the "boiler" system are made with tool and CC-free.

The main entrance and parlor are doing their best to continue the gothic revival theme of the exterior. The library and dining room follow in the enfilade starting in the parlor. Since this first house is a corner lot, it has a bit more width and space than a true brownstone. The only actual brownstone I've been inside of is Lady Mendl's, so ofc I had to have an extensive tea setup. Def took a lot of inspo from these two pics alone for these rooms.

The main stairwell and picture gallery lead to three large bedrooms on the second floor, and then up to the children's room and nanny's bedroom on the third floor. I really like skylights. I learned the importance of decent lightwells in staving off depression one semester when my window looked out onto a brick wall

The master bedroom and the children's room above it both have their own private sitting rooms and bathrooms. All rooms have either fireplaces or cast iron radiators.

There's no way this is going to be finished by the time For Rent comes out, so im just going to release it in whatever state it's in when it does come out. The exteriors and interior room layout for all the townhomes will (hopefully) most likely be set by then anyway.

Now available for download!

Also the anniversary of Chez Cromwell is coming up! Ive been gone for the better part of the year due to starting a new job, but I havent been idle. C.Cromwell has been updated for infants and ceilings, which led to me redoing the exterior and almost every room, so a rerelease is coming v soon! Sneak peek below. Happy Thanksgiving!

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to A Great House (19th-20th Century) - Anatomy of the House

When we think of the Victorians, the grand old Gilded Age or the Edwardians, we all think of those big mansions and manors where some of our favourite stories take place. But what did a great house look like?

Layout

All great houses are different and some, being built in different eras, may adhere to different styles. But the layout of certain rooms usually stayed somewhat the same.

The highest floors including the attic were reserved the children's rooms/nursery and the servants quarters.

The next floor would be reserved for bedrooms. On the first/ground floor, there will be the dining room, drawing room, library etc.

The basement/cellar would be where the kitchens and other food related rooms would be. Servants halls and boot rooms may also be down here too along scullery, where sometimes a maid would clean.

Rooms used by Servants

Boot Room: The Boot Room is where the valets, ladies maids, hallboys and sometimes footmen clean off shoes and certain items of clothing.

Kitchen: The Kitchen was usually either in the basement or the first floor of the house, connected to a garden where the house's vegetables were grown.

Butler's Pantry: A butler's pantry was where the serving items are stored. This is where the silver is cleaned, stored and counted. The butler would keep the wine log and other account books here. The butler and footmen would use this room.

Pantry: The Pantry would be connected to the kitchen. It is a room where the kitchens stock (food and beverages) would be kept.

Larder: The larder was cool area in the kitchen or a room connected to it where food is stored. Raw meat was often left here before cooking but pastry, milk, cooked meat, bread and butter can also be stored here.

Servants Hall: The Servant's Hall was where the staff ate their meals and spent their down time. They would write letters, take tea, sew and darn clothes. The servants Hall would usually have a fireplace, a large table for meals, be where the servant's cutlery and plates would be kept and where the bell board hung. (these bells were the way servants where summoned)

Wine Cellar: The wine cellar was where the wine was melt, usually in the basement. Only the butler would be permitted down there and everything would be catalogued by him too.

Butler's/Housekeeper's sitting rooms: In some houses, both the butler and the housekeeper had sitting rooms/offices downstairs. This was were they held meetings with staff, took their tea and dealt with accounts.

Scullery: The scullery was were the cleaning equipment was cleaned and stored. The scullery may even also double as a bedroom for the scullery maid.

Servery: The Servery connected to the dinning room. It was where the wine was left before the butler carried it out to be served. Some of the food would be delivered here to be carried out as well.

Servant's Sleeping Quarters: All servants excepting perhaps the kitchen maid and outside staff slept in the attics. Men and unmarried women would be kept at seperate sides of the house with the interconnecting doors locked and bolted every night by the butler and housekeeper. If the quarters were small, some servants may have to share rooms. Servants' bathrooms and washrooms would also be up there, supplied with hot water from the kitchens.

Rooms used by the Family

Dining room: The dining room was where the family ate their breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was also where the gentlemen took their after dinner drink before joking the ladies in the drawing room.

Drawing room: The Drawing Room was sort of a living/sitting room. It was mainly used in the evenings after dinner where the ladies would take their tea and coffee before being joined by the men. It could also be used for tea by the ladies during the day. The drawing room was seen as more of a women's room but any of the family could use it. The drawing room was a formal room but could also be used for more casual activities.

Library: The library is of course where the books are kept. The family would use this room for writing letters, reading, doing business with tenants and taking tea in the afternoons.

Bedrooms: The bedrooms would take up most of the upper floors. The unmarried women would sleep in one wing with bachelors at the furthest wing away. Married couples often had adjoining rooms with their own bedrooms in each and equipped with a boudoir or a sitting room.

Nursery: Was where the children slept, usually all together until old enough to move into bedrooms. They would be attended to be nannies and nursemaids round the clock.

Study: The study was a sort of home office where family could do paperwork, chill and write letters.

Dressing room: Dressing Rooms where usually attached to bedrooms where the family would be dressed and their clothes would be stored. The valets and ladies maids would have control of the room.

Hall: The hall was where large parties would gather for dancing or music or to be greeted before parties.

Furnishings and Decor

Most of these Great Houses were inherited which means, they came with a lot of other people's crap. Ornaments from anniversaries, paintings bought on holiday, furniture picked out by newly weds, all of it comes with the house. So most of the time everything seems rather cluttered.

As for Servant's Quarters, most of the furnishings may have been donated by the family as gifts. Most servants' halls would have a portrait of the sovereign or sometimes a religious figure to install a sense of morality into them.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Danny Punches a Clown part 9

masterpost

Danny is led up an unnecessarily long flight of stairs into a fancy house. The floors are all hardwood with rugs interspersed throughout the rooms.

     Hood starts leading him down the hallway and he can see paintings and antiquities, so many rooms. He is reminded vaguely of Vlad's mansion back in Wisconsin, but this seems larger, and better decorated. They end up in a living room of sorts, lots of different chairs and couches wand a huge TV lining a whole wall.

     Danny sits in one of the armchairs. Agent A soon comes in, with another tray of food. This tray seems to be for more than just him though. Hopefully. He could never hope to finish that many snacks by himself. 

     A isn't wearing a mask this time. “No masks upstairs, Master Jason. I'll keep the boy company until the rest of you get here.”

     Hood (Jason?) leaves and A introduces himself as Alfred. Apparently, he is the butler of the people that live here. Makes sense that people rich enough to live in this house would have a butler.

     Alfred lets him sit and eat for a few minutes in silence. The room gradually becomes more full as people come in and take their seats. They all introduce themselves as they come in and sit down. Damian and Dick sit together on a couch, with a girl he knows he’s never met before, Cassandra on Dick’s other side. Jason comes in and takes another armchair. Tim sits on a couch, a blond girl, Stephanie, and another boy, Duke, sit next to him. They all start working. Seems like Stephanie and Duke are in college, and Tim works at a big company. 

     Once the oldest person yet comes in, Bruce, and sits on an armchair, they all stop whatever else they were doing and turn to face him. He’s pretty sure he’s met most of them before while they were in masks, but other than Jason he doesn’t really know who is who. 

     “Can you tell us more about where you’re from now?” Bruce asked.

     Danny looks around the face in the room. They’ve all been helpful and kind. And he’s so tired of lying all the time. They’re most likely going to kick him out once they get their answers anyway.

     “I’m from a different dimension. I fled here after a fight.” Danny admitted.

They already seem less shocked than Danny would have imagined, and they aren’t calling him crazy yet, so this is going great!

     “There is a… war, almost? Starting in that world.” Danny gets fully into storytelling mode, as none of the others seem like they’re going to interrupt his thought process. “It all started with my parents actually. They started building a portal to the ghost zone, and that’s when it all went downhill really. Especially for me. I had my best friends over, they wanted to see the portal, so I took them down to the basement.”

     Danny took a deep breath. “My parents had put the on button inside of the portal, and when I went in… I hit it on accident. The portal turned on with me inside.”

     Everyone in the room remained quiet, and Danny couldn’t bear looking at their faces right now. He did his best to move on. “The portal was open, and ectoplasm started seeping into our town, we didn’t realize at the time, but that becomes a bigger problem later. At the time, we -or I- was busy becoming a one-man army against an invasion of ghosts. My parents started developing weapons. The government declared any being whose body could process or contained ectoplasm was non-sentient and could be kidnapped, experimented on, and/or killed at will. The Anti-Ecto Acts. The government branch dedicated to ghosts, the G.I.W, invaded Amity. Me and my friends had been capturing the ghosts causing problems and sending them back into the ghost zone. Now, we had to do that while trying to play keep-away with my parents and the government, while trying not to get captured myself. The government decided they wanted to send a nuke into the portal, trying to kill all ghosts at once."

     “I had to stop it. I was gathering all ghosts left in Amity to bring them with me to the Zone. My friends were going to close the portal behind us, destroy it. My parents had just finished their new gun.” Danny’s hand went to his side. “They chased us. I made it through the portal, with as many ghosts as I could find. Theoretically, the portal was closed once I left.”

     Danny was quiet long enough that the others realized he was done. 

     “I’m sorry that happened.” Danny heard, he looked up, but didn’t know who had said it. They all seemed sad.

     “And you’re… A ghost then?” Jason asked.

     “Only half.” They all looked bewildered at that. “It’s complicated."

     “So, you can’t go home?” Bruce asked.

     Danny shook his head. “If all went well then the portal doesn’t exist anymore, not that I could leave this dimension without a portal. I’m stuck here.” 

     “You’ll be staying with us then.” Bruce nodded firmly. “Metas are protected in this world, Danny. I’ve worked on a team with a ghost before. You’re safe here, Danny.”

[weepingtalecowboy]

Why is nobody talking about windy's basement

when it classifies as a horror movie location

Like the corridors looping in on themselves

The still murky water flooding the entire floor of the entire place

The walls

The rats that try to kill you

The lone ladders that led further into the maze

The gates that ominously close off parts of the basement

The vents

The fucking redeads that roam the random hole!?

Like…

If the chain got split with like windy and maybe legend (listen legend has been through a lot he deserves a break)

Just chilling in wind's house talking to the door butler (butler…door)

While The rest of the chain gets lost in the basement with the diseased water and fear for their life because as it turns out the walls look a bit too fragile to bomb because wherever they are if the walls collapse the entire thing goes down on them (wild was not happy)

Time wanted to be funny and antagonize the redeads and got bitten in return (because they apparently bite in wind waker… and are not blind passive predators)

Twilight was getting flashbacks when time started fighting for his life with a bunch of dead corpses

Warriors was very much afraid of rats after the ordeal

Hyrule was just having fun

Sky was completely drench in the very dirty and disgusting water and praying that he wouldn’t get sick

And four got sent into the vents because nobody else fitted inside to open the gates when needed

It was a very interesting experience

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Curieously for finding this exceptional 1890 Victorian in Helena, MT. 7bds, 6ba, $2.2M.

The entrance is different from the typical Victorian and has a foyer that opens directly to the living room.

The stairs in this home are located in the living room.

Check out the magnificent Inglenook.

Off the living room is a beautiful music room.

And, this is so fabulous- a planting room with a bench and a sink with cabinetry for supplies.

Isn't this interesting? The powder room has stairs and built-in bench. So beautiful and vintage.

Two large pocket doors in the living room open to a big dining room that has the typically beautiful wainscoting that Victorian dining rooms have.

Look at the size of that built-in.

You enter the butler's pantry from the dining room before you enter the kitchen. The kitchen remodel seamlessly fits the house. Look at the fireplace in the wall.

Back to the living room and the grand stairway. Beautiful millwork, and note the inlaid floor.

I've never seen a brass rail over the original wood one, but I like it.

The Primary bedroom is spacious and has a fireplace.

The next room is a family room with an alcove large enough to fit an oversized desk.

Pretty light and bright secondary bedroom.

It has an en-suite with a great vintage remodel.

Quite a spacious child's room.

On the 3rd level is another brass rail.

There are pretty children's rooms up here.

In the large finished basement the owner has a huge model train setup. And, there's also a family room.

Plus, look at the nice wine cellar.

Nice patio on the back of the house.

And a wonderful gazebo in the garden.

The yard even has a vegetable garden.

The property measures .54 acre.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/725-Madison-Ave-Helena-MT-59601/78161533_zpid/

[divinityandfanfics]

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

you and satoru were married. even though it was arranged, you find yourself slowly starting to fall for him. you seemingly couldn't say the same for him, though.

he was dropdead gorgeous. those beautiful blue eyes, and white hair that you want to (so badly) stuff your fingers in. and plump, kissable lips that you oh so want to devour.

despite your marriage, he was very cold to you. whenever you ask him for coffee together at day, he'd turn it down with a (sweet); “no thank you,” and continue working on his computer.

we know, you guys are arranged. but, you're trying hard to be the perfect wife for him. he might not notice your efforts, but atleast you tried. you guys slept in the same room, but.. separate beds, of course.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

today, satoru was out talking with a potential business partner while you were left alone in the mansion. you were bored, so you reached for your phone and entertained yourself while satoru was away.

“i miss his pretty face,” you blurted out. your eyes widening as you realized what you had said. you lightly hit yourself on the head. muttering a; “stop thinking about him!” along.

you were in the living room, first floor. your maids were on a day-off today, and the butlers followed satoru in his doings. you were basically all alone.

after a few minutes of scrolling on your phone, you heard a window break. surprised, you stood up, phone in hand. you quickly grabbed a kitchen knife for your defense, and slowly made your way to the shattered window upstairs.

the tension was thick, an awkward lump on your throat as you gripped the weapon in your hands. as you opened the bathroom door, you can see an intruder. armed with a gun. he spots you quickly as you try to stab him.

he pointed the gun at you, telling you to; “stop or you’re dead!” and you did as told. you didn't want your brains to get shot out right then and there, so you obeyed.

he grabs the rope in his pockets, tying your hands together. along with a tight fabric that he puts around your mouth. he gets out the back door, putting you on the back of his van as he drove off.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

satoru, on the other hand, was informed by one of the neighbors that you might have been taken. he was shocked, telling his bodyguards to search for you, and to call the cops.

after the discussion about business, he went home. trying to find you anywhere. he asked his neighbor where the van headed, and the neighbor pointed to shibuya. after a left turn the van took, they could no longer see him.

so satoru quickly told the police to follow it. the cops knocking on every door, satoru desperate to find you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“what do you want from me!?” you yelled as he finally took the fabric off your mouth. “nothing, you're just a hostage. I'm going to ask your husband for a biiiiiig amount of money for.. your life!” he says, smiling creepily at you.

“you can just kill me already. my husban— satoru, doesn't even care about me.” you mumble, and your kidnapper just laughs mockingly at you.

“well, let's try then, shall we?” he grins, before hearing a knock on the door. he quickly puts the fabric on your mouth again, “do not make any noise.” he said before heading upstairs.

you sat there, in the dark and cold basement floor. you prayed to any god out there to help you, to save you. you closed your eyes, tears streaming down your face.

after a few minutes of hearing incoherent voices upstairs,

“what!? no, let me go!” a familiar voice spoke, sounded like your abductor. you kept your eyes closed, hearing the basement door open. your eyes shot open, revealing a figure walking towards you hurriedly.

you couldn't see them, considering the darkness. but as they shined the flashlight at you, you saw a police officer. your eyes teared up as you thank the gods for this.

“she’s here!” the officer yelled to his other counterparts, as he rushes towards you.

after the fabric and rope were removed from you, satoru runs in the basement. your eyes widen as he hugs you, telling you how worried he was.

you smile, happy that your husband actually does care about you.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[jokeringcutio]

"Ramblings" - The Grabber (Albert Shaw) x (ADHD) Reader

Fandom: The Black Phone Pairing: The Grabber/Albert Shaw x (Female, ADHD) Reader Rating: SafeForWork Warnings: Use of the word D*mn in Reader's thoughts, Reader is in Grabber's basement. To write this request, I have kept in mind specific adhd aspects from the requester, as well as having drawn from my real-life experiences. I am aware there are many shapes and forms of Adhd, ticks/stimming. The prompt:

For @emotionalmesshooman

You were perched on the cold concrete, eyes darting to the staircase where he had disappeared. Your heart hammered. Time stretched and compressed in this dungeon of shadows and whispers.

The dim bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered, casting an eerie dance across the room. Your breaths came short and fast. The floor was a chill against your skin.

Then, the door at the top of the staircase opened, somewhere high above your head, and footsteps could be heard again. There was the distant barking of a dog, but your captor told him to lie down.

So… he had returned.

His silhouette was framed by the doorway. His mask hid his face, but you knew it was him – Albert Shaw, the man who held your life in his hands. Wasn’t there this saying that it was always the butler who did it? That it was the kind and unexpected face? The man who dressed the most ordinary? Well, they were right. He was the janitor at your old high school. The memory of him grew vaguer the longer it was since you graduated from school. But still… No one would suspect a man like that, right? Always helping others, being kind to kids.

You had a problem? Ring him up. Albert comes and fixes it.

Of course, the infamous Denver Grabber was the kind man who lived just a few blocks away. You wondered when the police would think of checking this man’s basement. Probably never.

"Ah, there she is," he rumbled, voice a little too cheerful as he crossed the basement toward you. How dare he talk so casually to you, so light-hearted, as if he wasn’t your captor ready to torment you.

His presence loomed over you, oppressive and undeniable. He set down the tray with a clatter, disrupting the tense silence. A plastic plate with a few scraps of scrambled eggs wobbled precariously at the edge. Beside it, droplets of soda rolled down its can.

"Food," he grunted, nodding towards the tray. "Eat up."

Your fingers twitched involuntarily, reaching for a plastic spoon – round and not sharp enough to cut, and too weak to be used as a weapon for it would just break. It felt alien in your grasp. You jabbed at the eggs, their yellow pallor as washed out as the hope you clung to. Each bite was mechanical, the taste lost on a tongue numbed by fear.

"Good," he said, and there was something unsettlingly tender in his voice. Almost like twisted pride. But what was he proud of? "That's good."

He watched you eat, his gaze intense and unwavering, and you wished you knew what was going on in that mind of his. What were his intentions for you? It wasn’t that you were ignorant – you had heard of the Denver grabber. You knew the boys he took had never been seen again. And judging by the empty basement, which only harbored a dingy blotted mattress and little else, you knew they were no longer kept here – but they probably had been at some point. You swallowed another bite, the knot in your stomach threatening to reject the offering.

"See?" he murmured, a dark chuckle threading through his words. "Not so hard to take care of yourself, is it?"

But you couldn’t respond. Your throat suddenly squeezed tightly, not allowing another bite in. Your stomach coiled, your heart twisted, as you tried to force the nauseousness to ebb away.

He sunk down, mirroring your position. The space between you felt like an ocean of shadows. His mask, a grotesque sentinel staring silent and still.

"Why are you looking at me?" Your voice broke the air, a fragile intruder in the oppressive silence.

It always unnerved you when he looked at you like this – and he had been looking a lot. It was almost as if he took you home as some kind of curiosity, to be kept in a room for his own, to be observed and looked at. But not looked after. God only knew you needed someone to look after you.

Your hand twitched, you didn’t even notice. The movement was mechanical. Your dominant hand still held the plastic spoon, although all movement there had ceased, completely forgotten. But it was your other hand, the fingers more correctly of it, that were tapping against one another in sequence. Pinkie to thumb, ring finger to thumb, all the way to your index and back again in quick succession. It needed no thinking, it was a second nature.

"Isn't it allowed to just watch?" His tone, edged with something like offense, cut through the dim light. A predator's gaze fixed upon its prey, unwavering. Your fingers were still tapping. He sees. He knows.

Then you gave your fingers a slight break when you rubbed your palm on the coarse fabric of your pants. In this abyss, every movement betrayed your fear, each tick a Morse code of anxiety.

The Grabber's eyes traced the erratic twitch of your thumb, a hawk surveilling its quarry.

"Interesting," he murmured, almost to himself, as if dissecting the peculiarities of a specimen under glass. The word sent shivers down your spine.

"Doesn't that annoy you?" His question was deceptively casual, the mask making it impossible to read any true intent. An unnerving half-smile played on his lips, visible beneath the edge of the hideous mask.

You swallowed hard, mouth dry. "It's not by choice," you managed to stutter out, the admission costing you more than you wish to acknowledge.

His head tilted, studying the involuntary symphony of twitches and taps. "Control, my dear, is all about willpower," he said, his voice a low rumble that made the air around you vibrate.

"Go on, eat." He pushed the tray closer, the scrape against the concrete a jarring sound to your ears. "You need your strength."

The smell of scrambled eggs wafted to you, but your stomach churned in protest. You eyed the tray with a mixture of hunger and repulsion. The can of soda gleamed against the dim light. You were so, so hungry and thirsty. He was doing this on purpose, making you delirious with want.

You wanted to reach out, your fingers already rose into the air, but then you thought better of it and retracted them, your fingertips instantly picking at your dry lips. The relief you felt when a scrap of skin on your lower lip came loose was almost euphoric.

"Or are you too good for my food?" His tone shifted, laced with mockery, the cruelty of his words veiled behind feigned concern.

You hadn’t truly been paying attention to him just now. You were too focused on the feeling of the loose skin, dry and parched, underneath your fingernail. Tearing it off felt liberating. Others had told you this wasn’t a good habit, yet you still came back to it ever so often. You were not ashamed of it either. The skin was already dead anyway.

"You think I might poison you?" Now his words finally came through and you looked up at him, truly seeing him this time. Gone were the thoughts and distractions inside your head.

If only for a second.

"Of course not," you whispered, though bile was once again rising in your throat, thick and acidic. The truth was a bitter pill; you were starving, and you had to eat whatever he gave you. But whatever he brought wasn’t very nutritious. And it had made you feel even worse before, so you didn’t put it past him to indeed poison you. You were pretty certain he had drugged you at least once after you just got here.

"Your body betrays your words," he taunted, leaning back on his haunches. "Is it mistrust? Or perhaps something else?"

You pressed your lips together, silent. Every second stretched on, taut as a wire ready to snap. You silently observed the man as he sat on his hunches against the opposite wall – the devilish mask with its twisted grin and pointy horns. Why was it so pale? Had it not been finished yet?

“Are you going to paint that?” you asked.

And even though you couldn’t see his expression being that grotesque mask, you could swear you saw his eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Come again?” He asked, and you concentrated really hard as you looked at him.

“Aren’t you going to finish that? It’s not finished,” you said, pointing at his head.

It took the man a moment to realize what it was you were talking about – that it was about his mask. You were already distracted, your leg nervously bobbing as you repositioned yourself. If you were moving from left to right, well, that was because the floor was uncomfortably hard and cold. Also, it was customary for you to keep changing the way you sat. It was a bloody miracle that you sat at all. Must be the lack of nutrition, you pondered. Or you’d be pacing the room.

Your fingers were tapping again.

"Why do you do that?" His voice was low, curious – the edge blunted.

Your eyes darted up to meet his through the holes of his mask. "Do what?"

Blue eyes, you thought. Blue or grey. Memories of objects that you’d seen once that had the same color surfaced in your mind and your gaze skittered away.

“That." He nodded toward your hands, and you followed his gaze and frowned. Your fingers were still doing that rhythm, but when he looked you tried to clasp your hands tightly in your lap, knuckles turning pale. It didn’t fully hide the impulse, though. The muscles of your hands still twitched, the movement restrained but ever so slightly visible.

"Can't help it," you admitted, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, demanding the truth.

"Interesting." The word was left hanging between the two of you and you wondered if he truly found it interesting or just annoying. ‘Stop twitching’, ‘Stop that’, ‘Keep your hands still’, ‘Don’t be so nervous’, and many more of these phrases came to mind.

Why hadn’t he said any of them yet?

"I did like that fish," you stated out of nowhere, and after another bout of silence, you could hear a heavy groan from ahead of you.

The Grabber shifted, then let his curiosity win out. “Oh?”

Right, he had no clue what you were on about.

You flushed, probably, quickly rambling to explain why you said that. “The round fish. I’ve no idea what his name was. Well,” you corrected yourself, running a hand through your hair and playing with the strands.

“I knew his name. His name was Peter, although Peter actually became Priscilla later on because he was apparently a girl. Although I told him to give him a name that could be used for both. Did you know Kim can be used for both? I didn’t know that. Or Lesley.”

When you looked over at the Grabber, you could see you’d lost him. Growing even more nervous now, you squeezed your own hand.

“Ah, right,” you quickly said. “Anyway, I meant, he could easily have given him a unisex name, you know. Like,” looking at him once again, you realized he was still at a loss.

Right. You swallowed harshly, throat dry and lips even drier. Get it together. What were you trying to explain to him again?

“The fish,” you brought yourself back on track. “That’s right. How did I get to the fish, you’re wondering?” You let out a nervous little laugh, gazing back at the Grabber shortly. You had to remind yourself to look at him when you talked to him, you sometimes forgot that.

And still, he didn’t move or interrupt. Well, that was good. Probably.

“The fish. It’s because of the bowl. Right? I mean,” you gestured helplessly at the empty wall to your right.

“It was so damn quiet and it made me so nervous, I tried to think of something else and then there was this stench. Like, did you know you have a toilet down here? I mean, I noticed because it hasn’t been cleaned in ages, and the smell came to me just now as we sat quietly and hit me like, full-on. And I was thinking, when I got down here I had a look around and there’s like, absolutely nothing here. But there’s this toilet. But it looks like it hasn’t been used in ages. Dirty too. And there’s a crack in the bowl. Anyway, the bowl is a nice round shape, just about as large as the bowl of a fish in one of my friend’s houses. Clara, her name was. Nice girl. Anyway, her fish was a deep black, which is kind of pretty. But not the prettiest fish I’d ever seen and…”

Realizing you were rambling and that you’re talking for so long, you quickly apologized and decided to get to the point. “Sorry, sir. Sorry,” you squeezed your hands in front of you again.

“It just reminded me of the prettiest fish I’d ever seen. My favorite fish. It was a very round puffer kind of fish. I don’t know what the type of fish is called. But I do know he was Griffin’s fish. You know, the boy that went missing three years ago?”

You hesitated, suspecting that Griffin must have fallen into the Grabber’s hands at one point. “I knew him,” you then said with a sad sigh. “I used to babysit him when he was little, you know.”

Your words dwindled into nothing, a whisper carried away on a ghost of a breath.

Silence followed in which you nervously tried to see what the Grabber’s reaction to your ramblings would be. But he remained eerily quiet. He sat frozen, his expression shielded by the mask.

Had you screwed up?  

"Well," the Grabber finally stirred. “And you had all those thoughts in just the flash of a second?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, looking anywhere but at him.

He unfolded his hands, you could tell by the sound of his movements. "What makes you so nervous?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The retort slipped out before you could cage it, raw and bitter.

"Perhaps." He tilted his head, studying you, intrigued despite himself. "Or perhaps not."

Your fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against your thigh, as the room fell quiet again. The air grew dense. The Grabber shifted.

"Interesting." The word was softer now, almost thoughtful.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat stubborn. He nodded at the plate. "You should eat. Wouldn't want your food to get cold."

Your dominant hand twitched and suddenly you were reminded of the plastic spoon. Where did you leave it? While you looked around you on the grimy basement floor, the Grabber pushed himself to his feet. He wasn’t very nimble, and you listened to the faint groan that accompanied the movement. By the time you found your spoon and looked up again, he was checking his watch. Funny. You’d never seen him wear one before.

At first, you thought he always wore one. You had assumed the thing you saw around his wrist was a watch like most men wear. But then one day you observed him closer and discovered he was always wearing this weird kind of silvery bracelet. He wore a lot of jewelry, you concluded. There were the rings as well.

But today was different. Today, he wore a real watch on his left arm. He must have some important business or something.

“I have some things to take care of upstairs. You'll be all right down here for a while, won't you?"

It was clearly not a real question and you barely registered that you’d reacted with a nod.

"Good girl."

With that, he turned and climbed the stairs. The door shut behind him with an ominous thud.

You were left with the plate, the sound of your ragged breaths, and a knot of confusion in your gut. What had just happened?

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 6: Storm Warning

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: You have the suspicions you tried to push down for so long, confirmed.

Word count: 4,446

Content/warnings: heavy drinking, kissing, flirting, nervousness, fighting, yelling, Sam Wilson, a switch flip, swears, ANGSTTT, betrayal?

Author’s Note: You guys know that vine where the surfer is making all those sounds talking about the crazy waves? That’s how I felt writing this. *wapahh*

Anyway, can’t wait for your feedback on this one. I’d love to hear what you’ve got to say. Feel free to drop and ask, or a comment, or a reblog!! Those are my life source.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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On Tuesday afternoon after work, you were excited to see Steve. And honestly, you hadn’t been this excited for anything in a long time. Giddy, almost, and it felt completely out of character. You were so used to your schedule and your normal obligations, that the things out of the ordinary seemed like such a burden, but this was anything but. You weren’t sure how everything felt like it changed so quickly.

You pulled up to a modern townhouse on the edge of the city in an unbelievably nice area. Sure, it was gorgeous, and evidently expensive, but its inconvenience led you to believe that this wasn’t Steve’s only place. He probably had a country home, and an apartment in the heart of town in addition to this. This place seemed too relaxed to be where someone who had such an insane schedule, from what you could draw, would live. And that’s the thing, it didn’t seem very lived-in from what you could see through the floor-to-ceiling windows that flanked the front door.

As you rang the bell, you almost expected a house cleaner, or a butler to come greet you, but instead, you saw Steve emerge from some distant hallway. He was in a leather jacket, with a deep blue collared shirt underneath, not dressed down, but not dressed up at all compared to what you’d usually seen him wear to work.

As he saw you though the glass, though, and smiled brightly, you weren’t able to return it, feeling something shift in the air behind you. You whipped around to see if anything was there, but you were just met with an empty street, filled only by cars on the quiet block. It was similar to how you’d been feeling for the past week or so, but every time you turned around, nothing was there, so you tried to brush it off.

By the time you went to face forward again, Steve was at the door, looking down to where you stood on the steps. You nervously smiled up at him as he gestured for you to come in.

He grabbed your bag from you, giving a side hug that squeezed your shoulders, along with a greeting of a kiss on the top of your head. “Welcome, sweetheart. I’d give you a tour, but there’s not really much on this level. All the good stuff is downstairs. I’ll show you where you can get changed if you want.

You nodded along, still in your pantsuit, the product of sitting in the courthouse for another case today. But it wasn’t all bad, because you got to briefly hang out with DA Barber. He let you walk around his office during breaks, looking through his knick knacks. You spoke to his admin, who for some reason had dozens of pens on hand, offering you as many as you wanted. Of course you took a bunch, picking out a particularly nice one for Steve and tucking it in your jacket pocket to give to him this evening.

You walked through the house with its tall ceilings, awe-struck at its simple beauty, despite how barren it seemed. That was only the front entry way, though, because Steve led you down a set of steps to a basement which he had finished and turned into what you assumed was his man cave. The walls were lined with art, interesting and intricate, yet surprisingly complementary to the dark tones that filled the space. In the middle, near a fully stocked bar, sat a pool table. It really was a nice little setup.

Steve stopped just before you got there, though, turning around and showing you where the bathroom was and leaving you to it.

It was a relief to be out of that blazer, and when you emerged from the restroom, you could see Steve had laid out a set of hangers for you so it didn’t get wrinkled. He was leaning up against the bar, ankles crossed across each other, sipping a glass of water.

“So can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? A cocktail? Dinner?”

You smiled and your eyes lit up. “Dinner?” He laughed and nodded, sauntering over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist as yours gravitated to his shoulders.

“Yeah, dinner. I’d say your favorite is already on the way, but I wanted to make sure you don’t get sick of it, so I figured I’d let you choose. Anything you want.”

He leaned in to press a quick peck to your lips that left you chasing for more, to which he happily obliged. You pulled away for breath, putting your forehead against his chest for a second to think. “Why don’t you surprise me. Something good. We’ll save the pasta for later this week. Maybe it can be road-trip food to take down to the farm. Bee will love it, too, I’m sure.”

He nodded, pulling out his phone to send in your surprise order, before walking back over to the bar and grabbing his beer, taking a sip and wordlessly offering you one, which you accepted. Before you took a sip, though, you remembered what you had brought him.

“Oh! By the way, I have something for you!” You went over to your bag, missing Steve’s surprised expression, but hearing a faint “oh?” followed by his footsteps in your direction.

You fished around, speaking over your shoulder intermittently. “It’s not much, but I figured since you sent me all those nice things the other week, that I should return the favor. Plus, I felt kinda bad for kicking you out of my apartment on Saturday.”

Steve set down his bottle, walking to your side when you finally found what you were looking for. “Ah! Here it is.”

When you stood, your face was almost right next to his, so you took half a step back, awkwardly shoving your hand between the two of you. “I got you a pen-But it’s uh… a really nice pen. One of those ones people use to sign official documents and stuff. I stole it from the DA’s office, so I guess it’s not an official gift, but I thought you would like it and I figured you do that kind of stuff a lot in day-to-day life, although I’m not really sure-“

You were cut off from your rambling by his hand over yours, accepting the present, and engulfing your digits in his. You took in a sharp gasp, looking between where the two of you met and his warm gaze.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. I really appreciate it. No matter where you got it.”

You tried to force yourself to swallow, your mouth growing dry at the contact. Even though you had kissed, something about this moment had seemed more intimate than before. You raised your other hand, bracing it against his chest because you were worried that if you didn’t, your jello arm would drop, pulling the rest of your body along with it. “And, um. A deck of cards. I got you a really nice deck of cards. Professional grade.”

You could feel the puff of air that came from his breathy laugh as his other hand came up to meet yours. “Thank you. This really wasn’t necessary, but I love it.” You simply nodded and pushed yourself away from him, trying to break the moment. Sure, you loved being that close, and you couldn’t have gotten a better response, but it was a lot to take in.

You turned around to get out of your own head and attempt to regain some logic since your mind had almost gone empty right there. “So…um..pool, right? You think you can beat me?”

You had pulled in on yourself, arms close to your chest, but pointing toward the table, as you finally brought your body to turn around again and face Steve. You were met with a view of his broad back, carefully setting your gifts on a shelf and reaching for the cues.

“You know, now that I know what your nickname means, I’m not sure. It’s my understanding that you’re far better than you let on and you were keeping it a secret.”

Somehow he had already put you at ease again. He walked past you, towards a brick pillar off to the side of the room to grab the rest of the equipment you needed to start. You rolled your eyes, shifting your feet so you continued to face him. “I wasn’t keeping anything a secret. I just don’t blab about that stuff. And to be fair, you never asked me.”

Steve shrugged as he handed you the cue. “I guess you’re right. And you wouldn’t be mad at me either, for not telling you something you didn’t ask specifically, right?”

That was weird. Was there something he wasn’t telling you? Your eyebrows went from relaxed, to drawn inward with suspicion. “Well, it depends on the thing, I guess…”

You tried to brush it off, and it helped that Steve did, too. Maybe he was just curious and had some sort of surprise planned. Or maybe it was something else, but the way he quickly moved onto the next subject helped you to do the same, as you started the first round.

Steve had let you break to start out, which led to your immediate win. He had a smile laced with several emotions all at once as he watched you move with grace, confidence, and ease around the table. By the time you were starting the second game, Steve breaking this time, you heard someone walking down the stairs. It would’ve concerned you that someone random was in his home if Steve wasn’t acting so casual about it.

“Ah, that must be Sam with dinner. Bar food for the bar mood. I hope you like fries.”

Just then, the figure emerged from the staircase, wearing a suit. Figures. He made a beeline for you, reaching out your hand and shaking it. “Hi, you must be Decks. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Sam. I was at the farm all those weeks ago, but I’m sorry we didn’t get to cross paths.”

You shook his hand happily before he asked to pull Steve aside for a moment. He seemed really nice, and who could complain about someone who appeared to be a friend, bearing food?

You took the opportunity to open the paper bag, setting everything out on the bar, fries packaged separately from a plethora of toppings to stay crispy. How thoughtful. You began your snacking before Steve came back.

He returned with a feigned offended look on his face. “So, what? I leave for a second and you’ve already started without me? How’s that fair?”

You laughed and looked at him, fry sticking out of your mouth like a cigarette, simply shrugging until he surprised you by jumping forward and chomping off the other end of the fry, cutting it short.

If you weren’t so focused on not losing what bit was left in your mouth, your jaw would’ve dropped in shock. Steve carried on like almost nothing had happened and picked up his cue again, speaking with his mouth half full. “So it’s my turn still, right?”

The games continued on like that, you and Steve going back and forth on who started, taking shots with fries hanging out of your mouths, and you still winning effortlessly. But as the night went on, though, Steve seemed to be getting more focused on the game. He paid more attention to the angle of your shots, and was almost rooting for you to be better than him with a weird seriousness to it. It wasn’t really fun anymore, or at least the excitement seemed like it was starting to fade for some odd reason. He didn’t try to make any more moves on you, instead letting you be in your zone, making you feel like this was hardly a date anymore. It got to the point where he, rejoined by Sam, was just watching, beer long abandoned to sober up and focus. You’d just about had enough of it. Something wasn’t being spoken out into the open air. After this evaluation, you decided to run an experiment. To see if your hunch was right. On what should’ve been an easy shot, you instead moved an inch to the side, and sunk the 8 ball into the pocket before you were supposed to do. The tension in the room got worse and you could audibly hear Steve wince with a soft “shit.”

You turned around at that. You were right. Something was off about this whole thing.

“Okay, what is going on? Ever since I got here, you’ve been going through waves of being so serious, but that was the last nail in the coffin. I thought it was just because we were both nervous for my first time being at your place, but this is much more than that. I’m sure of it. So tell me what it is. Why are you pushing so hard for me to win?”

Steve couldn’t take his eyes off the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. Sam straightened in a bar stool next to him, his eyes roaming everywhere, not wanting to linger on you and the fire raising in your expression. This isn’t how Steve wanted this to go, but you knew too well something was up. He still stayed silent.

“Steve, why do we have to go back to the farm this weekend and why do I have to practice? Why is Bee not returning my calls, either? What’s riding on this game? Why is it such a big deal? And what do you have to do with this? Why are you so personally invested?”

Steve still didn’t say anything, finally daring himself to look up and into your eyes through his lashes. His expression was troubled. He started to open his mouth, but nothing came out. Suddenly it was all dry from your rage. This was his worst fear, well, besides the unspeakable things Lloyd might have planned if you lost. You were getting impatient, though. Even when Steve wasn’t smooth, he would still talk to you. Talking was something you thought the two of you did pretty well, but apparently not right now.

“Steven. Words!”

Steve let out a sigh, signaling for Sam to give the two of you the room. There was no escaping this now. He’d pushed the limit on the timeframe he had to tell you the truth. “Listen, Sweetheart. You’re right. There’s… a lot… you should know, that I haven’t told you, so let me start at the beginning.”

You didn’t have time for him to try and sugarcoat this. You wanted the whole truth and you wanted it now. And so help you if there was something going on that you weren’t aware about, that was causing you issues you could’ve prevented, someone was getting the brunt of it.

You dropped your cue on the table, stomping over to the beer fridge and grabbing another bottle, hell, why not two, and storming towards a comfy leather chair, throwing yourself down and crossing your legs. “Go on, Stevie. Speak.”

Normally, he would’ve been elated to hear you call him that, but it was nowhere near the tender manner he was hoping you’d use the first time. It was bitter, and biting, and he hadn’t even said anything yet. This was not going to go well.

He sighed and started, eyes on you as if he was trying not to spook a wounded animal, but you were already worse than spooked, you were angry. And no physical wound could hurt more than the distrust you were feeling right now.

“I guess I’ll start with what you already know. You know Bucky and I work with and own a lot of businesses. And you know that Bee’s farm is one of the ones we’re working with, and Bee’s been facing a lot of pressure from Cole lately to sell the farm.”

You nodded along, chugging down your beer and slamming it on the coffee table next to you, ditching the second bottle in favor of something stronger. You walked back over to the bar, not sparing Steve a glance, as you pulled the rolling ladder over to grab the bottle of Macallan off the shelf. You didn’t care what year it was. You just knew it was expensive, and he owed you at least this much after lying.

You stepped back down, deciding to forego a glass, and walked to your seat again, finally looking into his eyes. “Okay, now tell me what I don’t know.”

He hated how hard your eyes had become. How they’d grown dull already where they used to have a sparkle when they reflected his face. “The businesses that Bucky and I run… not all of them are legal. A few of them run outside the law, and at first, it was just because that’s how we were brought up, but we realized that we could change things, so we did.”

You took a swig from the bottle. You did not like where this was going. Steve fidgeted with the pool cue still standing in his hands.

“We were raised in a certain way, to be cutthroat, and unrelenting, and aggressive. Ready to serve our superiors, because that’s what we had to do to survive. To provide for our struggling families. And we were good at it. We were good at following orders, and playing the system, so it put us in leadership at a pretty young age. It seemed like the right thing, especially once both our parents were gone. But as time went on, we saw how damaging what we did could be, and wanted to fix it. Except there were some people who didn’t feel the same way. Some people who were simply power and money hungry and didn’t care who they were hurting. In specific, this one guy named Lloyd.”

You kept nodding along, getting slightly dizzy from the straight alcohol hitting you, and not expecting the lore to go this deep. You thought it could’ve been something more minor. Maybe Steve was in the witness protection program or something, because that could’ve been better than this trip of an explanation.

“Lloyd was a friend of ours, along with his sister. And Bucky was especially close with her. But they both left to go off to college, and we were really proud of them, but when they came back, they were different. Aggressive, uncaring for quality of goods, money hungry. Lillian, Lloyd’s sister became a huge lawyer, used to do his dirty business bidding, and Lloyd tried to start from the ground up, stepping on the territory Bucky and I fixed and taking advantage of people already in terrible positions. We don’t do what he does. We regulate things so people like him don’t take over. And we collected a lot of allies and truly good businesses along the way to help out with keeping the other side under wraps.”

You rolled your eyes waving your hand signaling that he was going on and on and on. “Okay, so you’re a criminal. What does this have to do with my best friend’s farm? And why I’m here right now, evidently practicing pool like my life depends on it?”

He rubbed a hand down his face, looking past you, over your shoulder, and out the window at the far end of the room. “Our business with Bee isn’t on the legal side. It’s on the other one. And it wasn’t until a few weeks in or so that we saw Lloyd was connected with Cole. So we were getting harassed from both ends. From Lloyd on our end, and Cole on hers. I assume she hasn’t been telling you this, but Cole’s been on her ass since Bucky left, and Lloyd has been on ours for months. Bee made a bet to end it for once and for all. A single game of pool. Winner takes all. Friends and family only, no pros, and she wants you to play for her side. She hasn’t been picking up your calls because I told her not to. I wanted the chance to lay this all out on the table for you. So you’d hear it from me. I know you’re a woman of the law, and I work outside it a lot, so I understand if you’re upset about that.”

You clenched your jaw, and if you did it any harder, your teeth might’ve broken. Your breaths were heaving out of flared nostrils. You took another sip, trying to find the proper way to reply to all of this, but your brain was too fuzzed for that. And it’s not like you would’ve wanted to do the right thing even if you were thinking clearly. Yelling seemed like a good option right now.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? She bet the farm on this game!? And you’re what? A crime lord!? But that’s not even what I’m the most mad about. You lied to me Steve. I trusted you and I gave you my time and I let you in easily to see things no one else does, and you lied.”

You tried to stand up, but were becoming too dizzy to do so. You were humbled, only briefly, so you asked another, softer question. “So what really is even your job then? Who are you and Bucky exactly?”

Steve put his pool cue back. “Bucky’s the boss.”

“And you?”

“Second in command.”

“And what’s Sam?”

“Number three.”

You nodded, yelling to Sam who you could still see standing on the staircase, listening to the whole thing.

“Hey! Number three! Can you bring me more fries from over there?”

Sam looked between you and Steve and Steve nodded, a solemn look on his face, letting Sam run over to the bar, and bring you the rest of the basket of fries. Once you’d had your fill, and the carbs soaked up some of the alcohol, you stood up, staring Steve down.

“Okay, fine. Since everyone thought they were best to make decisions regarding my own life, and make stupid ones in theirs without consulting me, I’ll give. You want me to practice more pool? I’ll practice. Rack ‘em.”

Steve wanted to tell you this wasn’t necessary. That he’d made a mistake. That you’ve proven yourself enough and that he was sorry, but his mouth was paralyzed. He believed that the best thing right now was just to give into whatever you needed to stay sane.

You broke the balls with more force than necessary, already getting a striped ball in a pocket, then kept making shots, not missing a single one. You called the eight ball to the far corner pocket before sinking it easily, even drunk off your ass.

“There. Happy? I won’t screw this up. So you can see I’ll do my best to make sure our friend keeps her farm and you get your little business deals to stay protected. I’ll see you on Saturday, tell Gio I’ll be waiting for him outside my apartment, and then hopefully, after I do my job, you and I won’t need to see each other… never again.”

Steve stood with his eyes focusing on you, yet he was zoned out. He should’ve told you sooner. He should’ve seen this all coming from waiting too long. What was worse than you finding out? You getting hurt. And he did that. He hurt you. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to you because your guard was down because you didn’t know your true proximity to everything, but now that you did, he could see a thousand ways that it would’ve all gone smoother if he would’ve just been honest from the beginning.

You stormed across the basement, back towards where Sam was, and tossed him your keys. “You’re driving me home, Three.”

He followed you out the door, and you didn’t even care that you left your work clothes, and Steve, behind.

Sam drove you home like a chauffeur, after you insisted on getting on the back seat so you could lay down. Now was as good of a time as ever to try calling Bee again, and this time, she finally picked up.

“Hey, Decks. How did your date with Steve go? He told me you were coming over tonight.” Even in your state, you could sense the caution in her tone.

“It was fucking awful, but I think you know that. I can’t believe you lied to me, too. Some guy I just met is one thing, but my best friend is another. And on top of that, I can’t believe you were stupid enough to make this big of a bet and put it on my shoulders.”

She simply hummed. She could probably tell you were drunk, she was one of the few to have seen it this bad before. She sighed before giving her response. “You know me. And you know I wouldn’t have made this sort of a deal if it wasn’t necessary. If I wasn’t desperate. But I’m not worried.”

She was silent for a second, but you let her be. She was gathering the right thing to say, and anything you wanted to throw in that free space would’ve made things worse.

“Decks, no one I know is better than you. When it comes to you as a person and you playing pool. And plus, it’s not like he can bring a pro or even semi-pro to come beat you. You’ve got this in the bag, knock on wood, and I hoped you would understand. The bet and the business.”

You sighed. You wanted to be snarky and mean, but she was just so logical, and you knew how grounded she was with that heart of gold and shit. She was the one who always shared reason with you. But it still didn’t excuse how reckless this all felt.

“Bee, using this skill to swindle people out of a couple bucks hardly counts as being good enough to save your legacy. That farm is your life. I have no quantification of the probability of my win, but I’ll do my best, I guess. I’m getting really tired, now, so I’m gonna let you go, and you and I can talk about your poor taste in men and this little lying streak of yours later.”

And with that, you hung up the phone and the world went black.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Another vine reference: Did you guys [read] that? I’m really scared.

Taglist: @evie-119 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @thedonswife13

[seraphirism]

Butlers’ relationship chart - first, second, third and basement floor butlers.

[myemuisemo]

It's week 3 of Letters from Watson, and there is an elephant in the room.

We're going to feel the elephant's trunk, but first I want to crawl into the mindset of a contemporary 1887 reader. It's been a long time since I watched the Jeremy Brett versions of Sherlock Holmes, so if my impressions are shaped by that experience, it's in an indirect subconscious way.

Holmes' explanation of how he spotted the courier as a retired sergeant of Marines indicates that he's storing a good deal of trivia about military services in the lumber room of his mind.

Gregson and Lestrade, the best of Scotland Yard, are blessed with the Victorian compliments of being "quick and energetic." Watson, in his rush to order a cab, is also implied to value quickness and energy over whatever thought processes Holmes is about to introduce. When not humored in his rush to be useful, he falls into a sulk.

Gregson is the whitest of whitely white guys, from pale face to flaxen hair. The fact that he's not the slightest bit red-faced suggests both that he rarely sees the sun (well, London fog) and that he doesn't drink. There's very likely a teeny bit of a joke here in calling him Gregson, since Watson would certainly have been aware of the work of Joseph Gelson Gregson, the Baptist preacher and Army chaplain whose mission in the 1860s-70s was to convert British Indian Army soldiers to total abstinence from alcohol. Will our Gregson turn out to be zealous and self-righteous?

If Gregson did not arrive in a cab, and Lestrade did not arrive in a cab, then likely there are some specific sort of tire marks in the mud.

Now, the house at 3 Lauriston Gardens came close to baffling me. Obviously, when I first read the Sherlock Holmes stories as a mid-sized child, I knew only sprawling ranch tract homes, so the description of the 3-story vacant house was just "ooh, creepy!"

That numbering really suggests its an attached rowhouse, though. That would be consistent with development down Brixton Road in the mid-19th century. There are so, so many terraces of identical attached houses in yellowish brick. Here's Google Maps demonstrating 3-story terraced rowhouses on Handforth Road, just off Brixton Road. These are a little too new, dating from the 1890s, so we've got to imagine a Brixton Road area that's still far less developed -- things that look "old" to us weren't there yet.

These remind us that as London built outward, the rowhouses usually did not have two features that Lauriston Gardens has: a front garden and a center hall. The front garden suggests that the intent of the four dwellings composing Lauriston Gardens was to be a little more suburban and bucolic than the typical urban terrace. Its general aura of mud indicates that it has failed at this promise.

But move on down Brixton Road to the 300 block, and here we are with that garden! These are 3 stories, have a yard, have pillars suggested Greek Revival (1850s-60s), and are depressing af.

Maybe it's my years in the Albany-Troy (NY) area speaking, but these are exuding "we are holding onto middle class by our slipping fingernails." I think that is actually the impression Doyle intends to give: Lauriston Gardens was never quite perfectly respectable, even in its heyday, but it was trying.

That center hall still troubles me. A middle-class rowhouse typically has a side hall, which holds the staircase volume. The parlor is then either narrow (one window) or wide (two). Lauriston Gardens is built with a center hall (pointing to a more lavish lifestyle) but only one "reception" room deep. It has "offices" (butler's pantry or whatever) and a kitchen on the main floor, not in the basement.

Something like this, a titch further out Brixton Road, might be a fit if it weren't for the extra wing on the side. I think the dormer floor is a modern addition. These super-plain houses with only the pillared doorways look so grim, especially compared to the more ornamented Victorian styles.

If the reader is meant to feel uneasy at the mismatch between 3 Lauriston Gardens' pretensions and its actuality, we're there! In any case, the carpet has been pulled up (as was common, you took it with you when you moved), the florid older wallpaper is peeling, the fireplace mantle is a faux finish (yep, aspirations above our proper class), and there is a body on the floor.

Our body is wearing a frock coat, which was the formal daytime wear of a gentleman but on its way out of fashion by the 1880s. Broadcloth of the era had a felt-like feel and was known for durability. So our corpse is respectable, practical, probably conservative in habits, and possibly punching a bit above his social class.

And he has a "simious and ape-like appearance," which worries the heck out of me in a modern 2023 sense. Watson, as the late Victorian everyman, refers to common notions of facial bone structure indicating character. Simian is never good; it's an indicator of primitive, uncouth nature. I'm going to hope hard that we are solely being set up to see the dead man as representative of the worst sort of grasping, self-centered, profit-minded, uncouth American. We're definitely supposed to "get" that, as the house is failing at its pretentions, so too is the dead body trying to be something above its class.

I am nervous for next week, and I'm determined not to look ahead. I'm going to sit with my discomfort like a proper serial-reader, so don't spoiler it for me!

[midoribobatea]

Lato's Birthday 2023 - Lato's card

Part 1 & Part 2

(Not 100% accurate translation ,So sorry in advance for any mistranslation and any missgramer)

Under The Moonlight - part 1:

*Notice before reading the Butler Story: This story contains some spoilers for Main story - EP 3

We recommend reading this after reading the main story EP 3.

If you wish to avoid spoilers, please return using the button on the top left.

.........

- A few days before Lato's birthday -

With Lato's birthday coming up soon...I was thinking about what present to buy for him.

So... I thought I'd talk to Flure and Miyaji about it, and when I called out to them...

For some reason, we all ended up gathering in the wine cellar in the basement floor of the mansion.

Miyaji: I'm sorry, master. I made you come all the way to a place like this.

Choices:

<Why here?>

Flure: Umm...well... because Lato has good hearing...

Flure: We were worried that our conversation might be overheard if we were somewhere else..so we ended up here.

Miyaji: Sounds,voices are usually hardly echo in the wine cellar...so there's no need to worry about Lato hearing us.

Choices:

<I see>

Miyaji: Then...about the birthday present for Lato.

Miyaji: Actually, me and Flure too have been talking about it for a while now.

Miyaji: But we can't seem to decide... If it's alright, I'd like to think it over together with you master...

Choices:

<Thank you>

<Of course, Please>

Miyaji: Great. if the three of us discuss it together I'm sure we'll come up with a good idea.

Choices:

<Right>

Flure: Hmm, a present... I guess it would be safe to give Lato something he likes.

Miyaji: Speaking of things that Lato likes...

Choices:

<Like parsley>

Flure: That's right. parsley is Lato's favorite food.

Flure: But... it doesn't really feel like a birthday present...

Miyaji: In that case... how about a handmade picture book or an original song...?

Miyaji: Lato also likes reading picture books and listening to music.

Choices:

<I see, That sounds good>

Flure: That's right... That feels more like a birthday present.

Flure: Alright! Let's give Lato one of those two...!

Lato: What are you doing in a place like this?

Choices:

<!?>

Flure: L-Lato?! Why are you?

Lato: When I returned to our room, Flure and Professor Miyaji were not there, so I came to look for you.

Flure: S-so that's what happened...

Lato: Hello, master.

Choices:

<H-hello Lato>

Lato: By the way.... What were you three talking about?

Choices:

<Well...>

Miyaji: That's...

Flure: Umm... well...

Lato: Hm?

Flure: M-master...!

Flure: Master asked what wines we would recommend...so we were just showing a few.

Flure: Isn't that right, master?

Choices:

<Y-Yeah>

Lato: Hmm... Then show me too.

Flure: Wha...?!

Lato: Master... What kind of wine are you interested in?

Lato: I don't know much about alcohol, but I'd be interested in the wine you choose.

Choices:

<U-umm...>

Lato: .......

Lato: Haha... just kidding.

Lato: after all it was just a lie that you were looking for wine, right?

Choices:

<Huh...?>

Miyaji: So after all.. you noticed.

Lato: Yes.

Lato: You were actually talking about my birthday present, didn't you?

Flure: D-did you hear that?

Lato: Yes. When I returned to our room, I faintly heard master's voice.

Lato: I followed the voice..and ended up here at the wine cellar.

Miyaji: So that's what happened... By the way, from which part did you hear us?

Lato: Since the parsley talking part.

Miyaji: Almost everything... As expected of Lato.

Flure: Seriously...you really do have good ears.

Lato: Haha... I am especially sensitive to master's voice.

Choices:

<I-Is that so...>

Lato: I felt like it would be better to pretend I didn't hear in this situation...

Lato: But there was something I really wanted for my birthday, so I ended up calling out to you.

Miyaji: Something you want? What is it?

Lato: A parsley cake.

Choices:

<P-Parsley cake?>

Lato: Yes, this is the cake that appeared in a picture book I read a long time ago.

Choices:

<(There's a picture book like that...)>

Lato: It looked like a very interesting dish, so it made a lasting impression on me.

Flure: Umm... Is there really such a picture book?

Miyaji: Come to think of it... I think I made a picture book like that for Lato a long time ago...

Flure: Huh? Professor Miyaji did...?

Lato: Yes. It was a handmade picture book that professor Miyaji made for me.

Choices:

<So you can make picture books, Miyaji>

Miyaji: Well, even if I call it a picture book... I didn't really make anything that impressive or anything like that.

Miyaji: I wondered at that time if there was something I can make that could interest Lato even just a little...

Miyaji: I made this a long time ago when I was still researching.

Miyaji: I do remember the picture book depicted a sponge cake mixed with parsley...

Miyaji: I think it was a cake served with parsley cream...

Lato: It was also topped with finely chopped parsley.

Flure: T-that's sounds...

Choices:

<Like a parsley cake..>

Miyaji: Hmm..

Miyaji: It's a special day for you, Lato. Then, If that's what you want, I'd like to make it come true.

Lato: And if I can ask one more thing...

Lato: If you don't mind, I'd like to make that cake together with you...master.

Choices:

<With me?>

Lato: We can't?

Choices:

<It's not that, but..>

<No, I was just a little surprised>

Miyaji: Master, I'm not sure if it's even appropriate for a butler to ask you to do something like this, but...

Miyaji: Could you please help bake this cake with Lato?

Choices:

<Let's bake it together Lato!>

<Sure!>

Lato: Thank you master.

Flure: Good for you, Lato.

Lato: Haha..Once it's ready, I'll let Flure try it too.

Flure: Huh? Y-yeah...Thanks..

Flure: Ah, but…Do you know how to bake a cake?

Lato: No, I have no idea.

Flure: Y-you wanted to make it without even know how to bake?

Miyaji: Don't worry about that, I'll find out how to make it before the day comes.

Miyaji: Master, you can rest assured too.

Choices:

<If Miyaji says so>

<Thank you Miyaji>

Lato: Haha..I'm looking forward to it, master.

Choices:

<Yeah>

- A few days later -

Then, on Lato's birthday in the afternoon...

Miyaji gave us a note written with the recipe... After gathering all the ingredients for the cake, me and Lato went to the kitchen.

Meanwhile Miyaji and Flure prepared for the party in the basement butlers room.

Lato: Speaking of which, this recipe note we received from Professor Miyaji...

Lato: Apparently he asked Lono to help him with it.

Choices:

<So Lono also helped out>

Lato: Yes. Both Lono and Professor Miyaji did it for me...they are very kind.

Choices:

<Okay, Shall we start baking?>

Lato: Yes, let's bake it.

Then we started cooking while looking at the recipe notes.

During the baking process...Lato broke some plates and spilled some ingredients...

It wasn't a smooth process,but...

I followed along as best as I could too... Somehow, Lato and I were able to make the cake according to the recipe.

- After a while -

Lato: Master, the cake dough is ready.

Choices:

<Next, we need to apply the cream>

Lato: Understood.

We spread fresh cream mixed with parsley on the baked dough.

Finally, We sprinkled chopped parsley on the top and the special cake is complete.

Lato: Haha... It looks just like in the picture book.

Lato: Thanks to master's help... I have finally completed my long-awaited parsley cake.

Lato: I could never have made such a wonderful cake by myself.

Lato: Thank you for granting my wish, master.

Choices:

<Today is Lato's birthday after all>

< I'm glad it made you happy>

Lato: Haha... I feel like eating it right now.

Lato: But Professor Miyaji and Flure are preparing the party, so... I'll just have to be patient.

Choices:

<Right>

Lato: Now... before we bring the cake...

Lato: After I change into the costume Flure has prepared. Let's return to the butler's room in the basement...

Under The Moonlight - part 2:

- After a while -

Lato: Sorry to keep you waiting.

Lato: What do you think about this costume?

Choices:

<It suits you>

<So cool>

Lato: Hehe.. Thank you.

Lato: It's a costume that Flure made for me. It's very beautiful, I really love it.

Lato: Now that I'm all dressed… let’s bring the cake.

[Devil's Palace basement hallway]

Knock Knock…

Lato: Is it okay to come in now?

Miyaji: Yes. It's okay now.

Lato: It looks like we can come in. Shall we go?

Choices:

<Yeah>

Clunk...

Miyaji: Welcome to the birthday party venue. Lato and master.

Miyaji: We've just finished preparing it.

Flure: Oh! You've changed into your costume, Lato.

Lato: That's right. How is it?

Flure: Didn't I already told you though when you first tried it on?

Lato: I would like to hear it again.

Flure: Wasn't it enough? It suits you very well.

Lato: Haha... I was complimented by master too just before.

Lato: Thank you Flure, for this beautiful costume.

Flure: You're welcome hehe.

Flure: I'm glad you liked it.

Miyaji: Haha..So Lato, did you enjoy making the cake?

Lato: Yes. It was fun to cook with master.

Lato: Take a look. We made a parsley cake that looks just like the one in the picture book.

Flure: I kind of imagined what it would look like but... W-woah What a strong color.

Flure: This... is not matcha, it's parsley, right?

Lato: Yes, there was a lot of slicing, chopping and mixing involved.

Flure: W-Wow...

Miyaji: Did any of you two got injured anywhere?

Lato: Yes. We are alright thanks to master's support.

Miyaji: Then that's good.

Miyaji: Thank you, master. For all of your help and doing it for Lato.

Choices:

<It was fun cooking with Lato>

Miyaji: Haha..If that's the case I'm glad.

Miyaji: Now then, Lato. I would like you to receive this present from us.

Miyaji said as he placed a lot of dishes on the table.

Lato: this is...

Choices:

<Since when did you prepare it?>

Miyaji: Actually, I was cooking in the kitchen early this morning.

Miyaji: After hearing that Lato is going to make a cake with master.

Miyaji: I wanted to prepare something too for Lato.

Miyaji: I used parsley while preparing the dishes so that Lato could eat it.

Miyaji: By the way, this fried chicken has parsley mixed into the batter...while this is a potage that uses plenty of parsley...

Miyaji: I was able to make it thanks to Lono's help in tasting it, so I'm sure it's delicious.

Choices:

<Amazing!>

Lato: Professor Miyaji, Thank you.

Flure: Well then, it's my turn next.

Flure: Here. This present is from me.

Lato: Oh. this is quite a beautiful box.

Lato: Thank you, Flure. I'll treasure this box.

Flure: ...No, the box is just a container. The gift is what's inside the box.

Flure: Try opening it quickly.

Lato: Inside it? Alright...

When Lato opened the box, he found beautiful forks and spoons inside.

Lato: This is…?

Flure: It's a cutlery set.

Flure: Use it to eat a variety of dishes other than just parsley.

Flure: If you keep being picky about what you like and dislike, you'll end up damaging your health.

Lato: Flure..You were worried about my health...

Lato: Hehe... Thank you so much, I'll treasure it.

Flure: Yeah...

Miyaji: Now that we have given you the presents...

Miyaji: Shall we start the birthday party?

Lato: Yes. So, first of all...

Lato: ..should I start with this cake using the cutlery that Flure gave me.?

Flure: Are you going to start with the cake first?!

Lato: Yes, is it a problem?

Flure: Well..it's Lato's birthday after all... I guess it's best to let him eat what he likes.

Lato: Well, I'll try it.

Lato: Hm.... *munch munch*.

Choices:

<Is it delicious?>

Lato: Yes, it tastes like parsley and it's very delicious.

Choices:

<I'm glad>

Then Lato cut a small piece from the cake... and picked it with the fork, and held it out in front of me.

Choices:

<Huh?>

Lato: Here master try it too.

Flure: Wait-- Lato! What do you think you're doing to master?

Lato: It was so delicious... I really wanted master to try it too...

Lato: Now.... Open your mouth, master.

Miyaji: La..Lato...I understand how you feel, but if you suddenly do something like that, it will cause a problem for the master too.

Lato: Oh... Is there something wrong?

Lato: Professor Miyaji once told us that "the more good things we share, the happier everyone will be."

Miyaji: That's, well... I did said that sometime long ago...

Lato: That's why... I want to share the deliciousness of the cake with the master too.

Lato: Master... Is it bad...?

Choices:

<I-If it's only just one bite...>

Lato: Thank you. Then, Here you go..

Although I was a little hesitant, I took a bite of the piece of cake that Lato offered me.

Lato: Hehe... Master, is it delicious?

Choices:

<M..Mm-hmm>

<I-it's delicious>

Lato: That's good.

Maybe it was because I was nervous... but to be honest, I couldn't really tell the taste of the cake...

But seeing the happy look on Lato's face... made me feel happy too.

- Tonight -

After Lato's birthday party was over... I was relaxing in my room.

While peeking outside the window for a moment, I noticed the beautiful full moon in the sky.

Knock Knock…

Choices:

<Come in>

Clunk...

Lato: Greetings, master

Choices:

<Lato, did something happened?>

Lato: I'd like to have a little chat with you, master.

Lato: If you'd like... would you like to go for a walk outside with me?

Choices:

<Outside?>

My eyes instinctively turn through the window to the moon rising outside.

Lato: It's alright, master. Now I no longer feel pain when I see the full moon.

Choices:

<Are you really okay…?>

Lato: It's really okay. I'm not forcing myself.

Lato: Would you like to come with me?

Choices:

<Okay>

Lato: Haha..Thank you, master.

Step... step...

Lato and I walkd together under the moonlight.

Lato looked at the full moon rising in the sky... rather than looking distressed, he was smiling with joy.

Lato: Being able to take a walk like this with master on a full moon night...

Lato: I couldn't even imagine it just a short time ago.

Choices:

<I'm happy too>

Lato: Haha...

Lato: ......It really feels like a dream.

Lato: Until recently, full moon nights were nothing but painful for me.

Lato: I was suddenly overcome by an inexplicable anxiety and fear, and I lost my composure, breaking things in the room.

Lato: There were times when I harmed Professor Miyaji and others.

Lato: This has always...always...

Lato: This has always happened for over 200 years.

Lato: But everything changed...ever since I met you master.

Lato: The full moon that was once such a painful experience

Lato: Is now just feels so beautiful.

Lato: This is all thanks to meeting you, master.

Choices:

<Lato...>

Then Lato stopped and looked straight in my eyes.

Then he smiled and removed the gloves he was wearing...

Lato: Master... can I hold your hand for just a little while...?

Choices:

<What?>

I was a little confused, but... I reached out my hand towards Lato's outstretched hand.

His cold hand gently held mine.

Lato: Warm…

Lato: I can feel master's life force.

Choices:

<U-umm>

Then Lato pulled my hand towards him and pressed the back of my hand against his cheek.

Choices:

<Lato...!?>

Lato: Shhh. quiet.

Lato: You don't want the other butlers to notice us, right?

Choices:

<S-sorry...>

<B-but...>

Lato: Haha...

Lato: Right now...I am very happy.

Lato: Being next to master.... being able to see master's smile....

Lato: I feel happy to be alive, more than I've ever felt before.

Lato: This...is what called love, right?

Choices:

<T-That...>

<.........>

Lato: Just being able to feel master's warmth like this... makes me feel at ease.

Lato: You, master... have become an indispensable part of my life.

Choices:

<Lato...>

Lato: That's why, master.

Lato: Please don't ever disappear from me...

Lato: Can you promise me that?...

Choices:

<Of course...>

<I'm not going anywhere>

Lato: Haha, thank you.

Lato: Then, me too... I promise not to leave your side.

Lato: We will always be together...forever.

Choices:

<Yes...>

Lato: You are the first person I have ever felt such love and desire to cherish.

Lato: I'm not much interested in my own life but if...

Lato: Next year's birthday too... Two years from now, and ten years from now...

Lato: I could spend those times forever together with you like this, master...

Lato: Looking forward to that... I want to live.

Saying this, he gently squeezed my hand again.

Hearing those words... I squeezed his hand tightly back.

Choices:

<We will celebrate every year>

Lato: Master...

Lato: Yes... that's a promise...

Lato: Because I believe in master...

I felt Lato's cold hands gradually warming up.

Through the warmth of his hands, I could really feel Lato's life force.

- End -

[pardi-real]

Honeymoon Knight / Chapter 15 - The Ideal Wedding Outfit

Prev | All | Next

Miyaji: "Hmm... I'm sorry, my lord. We ended up talking for so long..."

> "I'm glad to hear it” > “I had fun listening”

Miyaji: "I see. I'm glad to hear that."

Lato: "Fufu… There is one last thing I would like to add..."

> “Lato…?” > "Hm?"

Lato: "Flure, after the contest... You have changed a bit, haven't you?"

Flure: “H-have I? What's changed?"

Lato: "I don't think I'm mistaken. I sense more confidence in you now. How can I put it... You've become cooler.”

Flure: "R-really...? Th-that aside... I didn't expect the word 'cool' to come out of Lato's mouth."

Lato: "Oh? Was it inappropriate…? The lord also said earlier that you were 'incredibly cool’. I thought it was right..."

Flure: "Th-that's not what I meant. I just didn't think Lato would say it normally."

Miyaji: "I think I know what Lato's saying. From my point of view... Flure, I think you have grown through the contest and your outfit-making skills have improved. I have the impression that you're more refined than before. Hmm... It may sound strange to compare it to when I first met you, but.... You definitely look more reliable than you used to."

> "I've been feeling like you're more reliable lately, too"

Flure: "R-really? I am... Reliable. I'm glad to hear it, my lord. I will continue to work as an outfit designer... And make nice clothes for everyone!"

> "Looking forward to it, Flure"

Flure: "Yes, leave it to me! Because I have a lot of outfits I want to make for my lord!"

Lato: "Is it... Wedding outfit?"

> “What?"

Flure: "Wa-wait, Lato!? What are you talking about all of a sudden!?"

Lato: "Oh, is that not it? We discussed this the other day, didn't we?"

> "The other day?"

Miyaji: "Actually, after the contest… Someone asked Flure to make a wedding dress."

> "Is that right, Flure?"

Flure: "Yes, that's right. I said I couldn't make it with my job as a butler... So I refused..."

> "I see"

Lato: "But at that time, Flure... looked very disappointed."

Flure: "Well... It's not everyday you get to make wedding outfits. I can't say I'm not interested... But...! Can we not talk about this anymore? Let's get off the subject of wedding outfits.“

Muu: "Oh, right!"

> "What's wrong, Muu?"

Muu: "My lord. Why don't you ask everyone in the basement about their ‘ideal wedding outfit’?"

Flure: "I-ideal wedding outfit? You mean the clothes you would wear for your own wedding?"

Miyaji: "That's a bit sudden, isn't it... Why did you decide to ask?"

Muu: "Actually, I've heard many stories about marriage from the other butlers! The butler on the 3rd floor told me about their 'ideal honeymoons'... The butler on the 2nd floor told me about ‘wedding bouquets’, and the butler at the villa told me about their ‘views on marriage’!"

Miyaji: "Hmm, in short... Just like last year when you were asking around about our views on marriage... This year, are you collecting stories related to marriages?"

> "Not really collecting, though..."

Lato: "Kufufu, I see... I understand. My 'ideal wedding outfit'... If my lord wants to hear it, I will tell you."

Flure: "What? Lato, you have your ideal wedding outfit in mind?"

Lato: "Yes, I do. Would you like to hear it? Then... Please speak first, Flure."

Flure: "What? M-me first?"

> "I'd like to hear it, Flure"

Flure: "E-even the lord… …I understand. If the lord says so, I will speak.”

Thus, I had them telling me about their 'ideal wedding outfit'.

Flure: “Err... First of all, let me say... I don't have a concrete image of my 'ideal wedding outfit'... I don't have anything in mind yet."

Lato: "Oh? Quite surprising, isn't it? I thought you had already decided on a detailed design."

> "Yes, it's unexpected...."

Flure: "Because wedding outfits... are meant to be worn in pairs... So... I'd like to get my partner's opinion for the specific details."

> "I see"

Flure: "I think a wedding is something that is made by two people... No matter how much I like making clothes... I don't want to force my ideas on my partner."

> “That's so sweet of you, Flure"

Flure: "Thank you for the compliment, my lord. Marriage is about spending a lot of time together. I think it's important to give proper respect to them. So.... I don't know if this is good enough as my answer, but.... My ideal wedding clothes would be 'what they want to wear'."

> "I think it's lovely"

Flure: "Thank you. I am glad to hear you say so, my lord."

Miyaji: "Yeah... The lord is right. It was a great story, showing compassion for your partner."

Lato: "Kufufu... Flure is very kind, after all. Now, for the next one... Prof. Miyaji, please."

Miyaji: "Oh, me?"

> "Tell us, Miyaji.”

Miyaji: "Understood. I don't think it'll be anything significant, but if it's okay with you, I'll talk about my 'ideal wedding outfit.' When it comes to the design... Like Flure, I want to respect my partner's opinion. However, there's one thing I won't compromise on."

> "Something you won't compromise on?"

Miyaji: "Yeah... Well, that would be... having Flure make it."

Flure: "Huh? You'd like me to make it?"

Miyaji: "Yeah, that's right. The outfit for my beloved partner... I want it made by my dear comrade. The partner wearing the wedding outfit made by Flure... will surely be the most enchanting in the world."

Flure: "Prof. Miyaji... Thank you! I'll make the best wedding dress!"

Miyaji: "Thank you, Flure."

Flure: "By the way, Prof. Miyaji, you mentioned respecting your partner's opinion, but... are there no requests from your side?"

Miyaji: "Hmm... well... if I have to say... I prefer my clothes not to stand out too much."

> "Even though it's your wedding?"

Miyaji: "Yeah, to be honest... I don't want too much attention.”

> “I see”

Miyaji: “That's in my nature... or you could say, my philosophy. Let my partner be the center of attention; I'm fine with that. I just want to be the one quietly supporting."

> “Miyaji..."

Miyaji: "This applies not only to the wedding, but also to our life together. In the story of our time together, the protagonist should always be my partner. I think I'm fine in being there to quietly support them."

> "Really?"

Miyaji: "Saying this might make it sound like excessive self-sacrifice, but it's not that. I've lived long enough. I don't have strong desires about how I want things for myself or expecting certain things from others. I find happiness in what brings joy to my partner… Oops, we were talking about the ideal wedding outfit, but I got a bit sidetracked. I apologize for rambling on."

> "Thank you for sharing"

Miyaji: "No, thank you for listening, my lord."

Lato: "It's a wonderful and fitting thought, Prof. Miyaji."

Miyaji: "Lato… Thank you."

Lato: "Kufufu... speaking of which, it seems Prof. Miyaji's ideal also involves ‘clothes made by Flure’."

Flure: "Wait? Did you just say 'Prof. Miyaji also’?"

Lato: "Yes, I did. Because, my ‘ideal wedding outfit’ is also... the clothes made by Flure."

Flure: "Y-you too, Lato?"

> "You're quite popular, Flure"

Flure: "Um… yes, I guess…?"

Lato: "Oh? You seem puzzled, Flure. The outfit for my dear partner... I want my precious little brother to make it. It's only natural as an older brother, right? My little brother, taking into account my partner's opinions... will surely create a splendid outfit…"

Flure: "Well... of course, I don't mind… But do you really not have any ideas for your own wedding outfits, Lato?"

Lato: "Well... I do have. However... I won't say it because my partner wouldn't accept it."

Flure: "Hmm... that makes me curious..."

> "Can you share with us?"

Lato: "Hmm... if the lord insists, I can't refuse. My ideal for the wedding outfit is... not about design or appearance. I want to leave it entirely to my partner and Flure."

> "Huh? Is that so?"

Lato: "My request is about the wedding outfit's handling."

Flure: " ‘Handling’? What do you mean?"

Lato: "After my partner wears the wedding outfit at our wedding ceremony... I want it to be buried without a trace under my supervision."

Flure: "B-buried? W-why?"

Lato: "No matter how beautiful the wedding outfit is... I only want my dear partner to wear it once... If the wedding outfit remains... it means they can wear it again."

Flure: "So, you're saying, you'll ruin the outfit I made?"

Lato: "Yes, that's right. However, I intend to collect the torn fabric properly."

Flure: "Sigh... Prof. Miyaji, Lato is saying strange things again."

Miyaji: "Hmm... Well, we can't deny it if that's Lato's wish."

> "In a way, it's very much like Lato?"

Lato: "Kufufu... Thank you for your compliment."

Flure: "I don't think anyone complimented you, though..."

Muu: "A-anyway...! I had fun listening to everyone's stories!"

Flure: "It was fun, but... um..."

Miyaji: "Oh... Flure, what's wrong?"

Flure: "Well, it's just... listening to everyone's stories... I really want to make wedding outfits now. And I feel like seeing various wedding dresses for reference… Tisailles is a fashion city, and there are shops that deal with wedding dresses."

> “I also wanna see those” > "That might be interesting."

Miyaji: "Hmm... I see. In that case, how about we go to a shop that deals with wedding dresses right now? I remember there being a specialized shop on the other street."

> "Flure, want to go check it out?"

Flure: "Yes! Let's go together, my lord!"

And so, guided by Miyaji, we headed towards a shop that specializes in wedding dresses.

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