#but a butler's poise works fine

[coldalbion]

Sees a Bad Post/Take: WWJD? What Would Jeeves Do: Indeed, sir. *inclines head and continues scrolling*

[mariana-oconnor]

The Dying Detective pt 2

No doubt you will recall that at the end of my last letter, I told you how I left the gravely ill Holmes to carry out his instructions.

If it turns out Holmes really is ill and not faking, man will I look dumb.

I'm pretty sure he's faking, though.

I stood whistling for a cab

And when it came near, the licence plate said Fresh and it had dice in the mirror.

Tonight the part of John (James) Watson will be played by Will Smith.

I was a kid in the 90s, some things are just automatic

Now back to the actual story and the weirdest, most abrupt conversation in literary history:

"How is Mr. Holmes, sir?" he asked. It was an old acquaintance, Inspector Morton, of Scotland Yard, dressed in unofficial tweeds. "He is very ill," I answered. He looked at me in a most singular fashion. Had it not been too fiendish, I could have imagined that the gleam of the fanlight showed exultation in his face. "I heard some rumour of it," said he. The cab had driven up, and I left him.

I included all of it because I find it both intriguing and hilarious. Particularly the sudden ending. Also, clearly there are two possibilities for our Inspector Morton: 1) he is somehow involved in the 'poisoning' of Holmes and is exultant that it has 'succeeded', 2) he is in on the scheme and trying to catch the dastardly poisoner and is exultant that Holmes has succeeded in fooling Watson.

Given that he seems to be someone Watson has worked with before, it would be odd for it to be number 1. Also, I don't remember Sherlock Holmes ever having a 'don't trust the police because they're corrupt' storyline off the top of my head. It's far more usual for the argument to be 'don't trust the police because they are incompetent.'

But still, just a very strange and clipped exchange between the two. Clearly it must have meaning because why else would it exist. I'm going with Holmes working with Morton to catch our villain.

All was in keeping with a solemn butler who appeared framed in the pink radiance of a tinted electrical light behind him.

I love the whole description of the house. ACD does have a gift for describing things in ways that you can't necessarily picture, but you can absolutely feel.

But the fact the guy has pink mood-lighting in his hall is amazing. Imagine walking into a house and everything being pink?

My humble name and title did not appear to impress Mr. Culverton Smith.

The judgement in that one sentence is palpable. Good to see that even when out of his mind with worry for his friend, Watson still has enough of himself to bitch about people. You can hear it. Like 'OK Mr Smith.'

I hope the butler isn't involved because I kind of like him.

Unless the butler is Mr Culverton Smith and he's just putting on some voices for Watson to overhear. In which case he's already better at conning people than Victor Spalding.

Before the apologetic butler had delivered his message I had pushed past him and was in the room. With a shrill cry of anger a man rose from a reclining chair beside the fire.

OK, fine. They're different people. But it's not like we haven't had weirder things happen in these stories. A man trained a snake to climb through a vent, down a rope and bite people, a man pretending to be his own butler would be practically normal.

I saw a great yellow face, coarse-grained and greasy, with heavy, double-chin, and two sullen, menacing gray eyes which glared at me from under tufted and sandy brows. A high bald head had a small velvet smoking-cap poised coquettishly upon one side of its pink curve.

Watson always writes such flattering descriptions. At least it's of the bad guy this time. Or at least, who I assume to be the bad guy. Love the word 'coquettishly' just popping up to be fabulous in the middle of all that creepiness.

His face is yellow, but his scalp is pink. I know that there's a connection to East Asia, but I genuinely do not know if this is a racist description or if it's just that Mr Smith isn't very well. That combination of colours certainly seems unhealthy. Watson, you should give him a check up while you're at it He might have accidentally poisoned himself. Or maybe he's just standing with one of his mood lights shining on his head from behind.

I caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror over the mantelpiece. I could have sworn that it was set in a malicious and abominable smile. Yet I persuaded myself that it must have been some nervous contraction which I had surprised, for he turned to me an instant later with genuine concern upon his features.

For someone who is so very savage in his physical descriptions, Watson is startlingly kind in his impressions of people's characters. 'Oh, it must have been a nervous contraction'. Convincing himself to doubt his own eyes. This is the second 'momentary expression' of this section, though. Watson must feel like the world is glitching on him with all these nervous contractions.

Or, alternatively, that's Watson the narrator putting his spin on things to say 'look, I saw that there was something up' at the time.

"There are my prisons," he continued, pointing to a row of bottles and jars which stood upon a side table. "Among those gelatine cultivations some of the very worst offenders in the world are now doing time."

Even if Mr Culverton Smith isn't guilty of killing his nephew, he should definitely be arrested for unsafe treatment of hazardous materials.

Watson, if I were you, I'd steer very clear.

"Tut, tut! This sounds serious. It would be inhuman not to answer his call."

That well known cry of alarm and urgency: tut tut.

Look, if I sat and told someone my friend was dying and only they could save them and they 'smiled pleasantly' and said 'tut tut' after implying that my own professional diagnosis of my friend's state was overblown and exaggerated, I would be telling them to fuck right off. Not that I'm a doctor, but if I were.

Watson shows great restraint in not shaking this man.

I have a note of Mr. Holmes's address.

Because I always remember that I have the addresses of people I have met a couple of times regarding business.

His appearance was as ghastly as ever, but all trace of delirium had left him and he spoke in a feeble voice, it is true, but with even more than his usual crispness and lucidity.

Almost as if he no longer needs you to think he's delirious... almost.

There is just room behind the head of my bed, Watson.

You're really making a grown man hide behind the head of your bed?

How far is your bed from the wall? Are you like that one tumblr post and your bed is just in the middle of the room? How on earth do you think you can stop a man coming to see you on your supposed death bed from noticing the whole-ass man hiding behind the head board? Like, you're going to be in the bed, Holmes. With your head at, I assume, the head of the bed. One assumes that Mr Culverton Smith will be looking at your face. At the head of the bed.

And it's not like Watson can just stand up, unless he's incredibly small or your bed is very tall. Apparently Holmes isn't the only one starving himself.

Why is there a man sized gap between your bed and the wall? Don't you know that's how the demons get in?

Quick, man, if you love me! And don't budge, whatever happens--whatever happens, do you hear? Don't speak! Don't move! Just listen with all your ears.

Well, that's not alarming at all. And raises another question of how many ears Watson has.

Our visitor sniggered.

Does he count as your visitor if you're hiding behind the head of the bed, Watson?

Look, I played hide and seek with my nephew the other day and I had to hide behind a sofa that was against the wall. It was one of the most uncomfortable places I have ever sat. My shoulders did not fit at all. And anyone who wasn't two years old would have immediately known where I was hiding because the sofa was at the weirdest bloody angle all of a sudden. How Watson has pretzelled himself behind this bed, I do not know.

Also, looking up sniggering to see if that's one of the words that has changed in meaning in the last century.

OK, apparently in the early 1800s it merely meant a smothered laugh, with no real implication of derision or mockery. So yes, it has changed, but not a lot. Still not an appropriate response to the situation. I assume by this point Watson has caught on at least a bit to what's happening.

Although the conceit is that Watson is writing this from the future of the story with knowledge of how it ends, therefore unreliable narrator and all that.

"Well, I shouldn't be surprised, Holmes. I shouldn't be surprised if it WERE the same. A bad lookout for you if it is. Poor Victor was a dead man on the fourth day--a strong, hearty young fellow. It was certainly, as you said, very surprising that he should have contracted an out-of-the-way Asiatic disease in the heart of London--a disease, too, of which I had made such a very special study. Singular coincidence, Holmes. Very smart of you to notice it, but rather uncharitable to suggest that it was cause and effect." "I knew that you did it."

Oh, internet gods save us from the arrogance of a man who thinks he can get away with murdering a relative using a method that he is uniquely positioned to access. "uncharitable?" it's Occam's bloody Razor.

You've literally got them sitting on your desk in jars. You absolutely could have made it look like an accident, you utter buffoon. Really, it's the incompetence that gets me. I don't doubt that Holmes would have caught him anyway, but your little desk of experimental OSHA violations is an accident waiting to happen. You're the kind of guy who would smuggle small pox home from the lab to run your own experiments on after you were refused funding for being a menace to society.

But no, you thought you were being smart, trying to keep yourself out of it. And heaven forfend that anyone think you could be incompetent.

I may be getting too into this. He's just a fictional character, after all.

"You're precious near your end, my friend, but I don't want you to go till I have had a word with you. That's why I give you water. There, don't slop it about!"

Nope, I'm right. He's odious. ACD does have a peculiar talent for writing odious little men I want to see crushed like bugs. They are utterly nauseating.

"The fellow who came for me--I've forgotten his name--"

This combined with the comment from earlier and the knowledge that Watson is writing this from the future makes me chuckle, because that comment from earlier definitely seems more pointed after this.

"You are proud of your brains, Holmes, are you not? Think yourself smart, don't you? You came across someone who was smarter this time. Now cast your mind back, Holmes. Can you think of no other way you could have got this thing?"

The condescension is dripping from this speech. Holmes, you are forgiven for being a total bitch in the last part of the story, clearly the need was great. You still need to buy Watson dinner, though.

Seriously, this guy is so overwhelmingly arrogant. He has to have his villain monologue. He has to have someone know what he's done.

"But you have the truth now, Holmes, and you can die with the knowledge that I killed you. You knew too much of the fate of Victor Savage, so I have sent you to share it. You are very near your end, Holmes. I will sit here and I will watch you die."

In 1531, Henry VIII hated poisoners so much that he decreed that the punishment for poisoning would be being boiled alive in oil.

I do not believe in capital punishment, but I can't deny that I understand the distaste for the method. There is something singularly unpleasant about choosing to kill a person in a slow, drawn out way, and watching it happen. A complete detachment of feeling is necessary, or perhaps, the opposite, an unstoppable attachment to the pleasure of having power over that person.

Or perhaps an unstoppable hatred or desperation. I believe, before women were afforded rights to own their own property and divorce became accessible, a number of women used poison as a way to get out of marriages they could not otherwise escape.

You have to really want the person dead, is what I mean.

This is a disease, rather than poison, certainly, but the principle is the same. You either have no other options or you are a specific type of evil.

"The best way of successfully acting a part is to be it," said Holmes. "I give you my word that for three days I have tasted neither food nor drink until you were good enough to pour me out that glass of water. But it is the tobacco which I find most irksome. Ah, here ARE some cigarettes."

Holmes, honestly, you're lucky you aren't delirious or dead. 3 days without water? You utter moron. But oh that nicotine addiction got you hard, huh?

You need to go to hospital for dehydration and starvation you absolute nincompoop.

Inspector Morton appeared.

Option 2 it is, huzzah.

"Good heavens!" cried Holmes. "I had totally forgotten him. My dear Watson, I owe you a thousand apologies. To think that I should have overlooked you!"

Meanwhile, behind the bed, Watson relocates his shoulders.

"I never needed it more," said Holmes as he refreshed himself with a glass of claret and some biscuits in the intervals of his toilet.

Because alcohol is the best cure to dehydration and malnutrition.

"You won't be offended, Watson? You will realize that among your many talents dissimulation finds no place, and that if you had shared my secret you would never have been able to impress Smith with the urgent necessity of his presence, which was the vital point of the whole scheme."

He might be a tad more offended by the fact you said he was bad at his job than the fact you think he's a terrible liar, Holmes.

"Can you ask, my dear Watson? Do you imagine that I have no respect for your medical talents? Could I fancy that your astute judgment would pass a dying man who, however weak, had no rise of pulse or temperature? At four yards, I could deceive you."

You literally told him he wasn't a good enough doctor to treat you. Of course he can ask. You owe him a really good dinner, Holmes. You can butter him up now as much as you like, but you still owe him.

"That pretence I have carried out with the thoroughness of the true artist."

Such modesty. Not that we would expect anything less. But it did make me roll my eyes.

"When we have finished at the police-station I think that something nutritious at Simpson's would not be out of place."

Good man.

I swear I did not know that was going to be the ending, but I'm glad that Holmes agrees with me that he owes Watson dinner.

I will share the Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle. Truly it is a story best enjoyed at Christmastide, but I am sure that with some imagination you can summon some festive spirit!

The next one I have definitely read and I remember watching the Granada adaptation of it. I remember it being pretty funny, so I'm looking forward to it.

This one, I'm not sure I have ever read, which is strange, because I thought I'd read all of the ones that are set early, just not the ones after he goes and becomes a beekeeper or whatever. It was particularly enjoyable, though. A good combination of humour and a loathsome bad guy. Once again, easy enough to see what's going on, but that doesn't spoil the fun of reading it. It's nice to be proven right.

[bonkers-4-hatter]

@november-solarstorms asked: May I have a black butler and marvel match up please, dear? My form and all you need to know can be found on my blog. I have it pinned so I help it wont he too much trouble. I just find it hard to describe a whole person in 500 characters. I just ask that for the Kuroshitsuji match up, you exclude all characters that ONLY appear in the anime. Characters that appear in both anime and manga are fine. Thank you!!!

-If you enjoyed this work, please consider buying me a coffee.  

I match you with:

Sebastian from Black Butler

He’ll match your elegance as well, the way you carry yourself intrigues him, you’re vastly different from the majority of the humans he’s interacted with. Considering not many things intrigue him, he’ll be keeping an eye on you.

Your silver tongue brings him endless amusement and he has no problem keeping up with your banter at all. We all know he has a silver tongue of his own and you both are just sending each other witty and sarcastic lines. Sebastian enjoys your company and praises your intelligence and poise, he finds your guys’ long, deep conversations a breath of fresh air.

Finds your hobbies fascinating especially for someone of your grace and at first, he’ll make a few quips about it to you, but once you show him, he’d quickly shut his mouth. Afterwards, he’ll join you for some of them if you’ll let him. Especially with hand to hand combat, even offering to show you some new moves to add to your roster.

Dance parties aren’t his scene either, he doesn’t mind spending the time with you either outside or on the sidelines engaged in conversation. You are by far he’s favorite human he’s encountered. 

Black Widow from Marvel

Being one that was trained for elegance and how to emit class, you piqued her interest when you both first met. She does like that you put your walls down around her when it comes to how you present yourself to others as she does the same. 

Being one that’s witty and sarcastic herself, the banter that you both exchange with each other makes her day. She also enjoys watching you lash at those who treat you wrong or talk down to you, she knows she doesn’t have to fight your battles for you, but she’s always close by just incase. 

Your interests are her interests as she was trained in the majority of them and teaches you new moves to help improve your technique. Wants to take you everywhere she goes for missions because of your love of traveling and if she can she does if she deems the mission safe enough.

[defaulttwig]

He Needs a Haircut

Bruce Wayne x gn!reader

Summary: Bruce has not been taking care of his hair and refuses to see a stylist or a barber. He gives you an opportunity you can’t pass and you take the liberty to cut it yourself, though you’re not a professional.

WC: 2k

A/N: I don’t think Bruce would be even this intimate on a mundane level but oh well. Featuring my amazing title-making skills

"You ought to do something about that."

Bruce leaned away from your touch. You pouted and leaned closer, moving his hair out of his eyes. If he wasn't going to do it himself, you'd do it. You liked looking into his eyes after all, not the strings of hair that blocked the pretty blue hue.

"It's fine," he said.

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, you look good, but don't you think it's a problem? It has to get in the way at some point."

As you said that, his hair fell back in front of his eyes. Bruce made no move to sweep the strings of hair aside and you didn't bother to either. It'd only fall forward again.

"It doesn't bother me that much," he offered.

Right. It bothered him, but not enough to go out of his way to a barber to cut it. Not even have Alfred cut it. The butler surely had the time for it and the patience. Bruce on the other hand, not so much.

You both sat at the round table in the sunroom. It'd been late afternoon when he finally rolled out of bed and joined you there. Dressed in sweatpants and a baggy shirt, his bedside look didn't match the button-up and dress pants you wore. You sipped gingerly on your coffee, laptop before you for work.

Bruce slid your plate of a half-eaten cinnamon roll toward himself, picking up your fork and cutting pieces for himself. In his free hand, he skimmed the newspaper, likely reading on the latest crook GCPD brought in. If he could see the article at all through all that hair.

"I'm just saying. Alfred would be more than happy to cut it for you."

"I don't want him to cut my hair."

Gosh, like a child. He'd put Alfred on some tasks and then others would be unbecoming of the butler. The man's job revolved around Bruce. A haircut wouldn't bother the old man that much.

He flipped the page of the newspaper, biting on the cinnamon roll. "If it bothers you so much, you can cut it."

You paused with your mug poised against your lip. Lowering it, you raised your brows. "Me?"

"Yes." He stabbed the fork through a piece of cinnamon roll and held it out to you. "You're the one who wants it done."

You leaned forward and opened your mouth. He set the fork close to your lips and you bit down on the piece, falling back into your seat and sipping on your coffee. 

"There are professionals for that sort of thing."

Bruce shrugged, eyes back on the newspaper, blocked by his stringy hair, as he stabbed another piece for himself. "I don't need a professional for a trim."

You mulled it over. For a trim, you probably could do it. You've never cut hair before, but you may be able to. After all, it was just snipping the ends with a pair of scissors. Leaning forward, you ran your fingers through his hair. The longer you thought about it, the more you convinced yourself you could do it. Cutting hair couldn't have been that hard, right?

"All right." You relaxed into your chair, eyes darting to your laptop screen. An email popped up from your secretary in the corner. "Can we do it later?"

"How much later?"

Oh, this was really happening. You recounted your schedule for the day. In about an hour, you had a meeting at Wayne Industries that would take a chunk of your time. There was the gift you wanted to buy for your cousin's baby shower after the meeting, but you could stop by another day.

"After dinner."

"I can't -"

"You will have dinner. And you will get that haircut today. I'll make sure of it." You closed your laptop and pushed out your chair. Setting it under your armpit, you held your now empty mug close to you and gestured to the cinnamon roll. "And you owe me another cinnamon roll. That was the last one."

Bruce scoffed lightly at you. "Alfred can make another batch."

"Right." You stopped by his chair and kissed his temple. "Dinner. Haircut. It's happening. Don't skimp out on me."

"I won't."

You snickered at his pouty tone as you walked out of the sunroom. Now, you had something to look forward to tonight.

 +:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+

 Bruce almost skipped out on dinner. He'd have succeeded if you didn't walk into the cave first thing after returning from the meeting. He worked on his bike the whole time you were gone. Alfred bluntly told you how he didn't eat anything apart from the half of your cinnamon roll. Go figure.

To Alfred's relief, you managed to drag him out of his cave to sit and enjoy the steak he so lovingly made. It was good, your compliments to the chef.

Bruce ate silently, already brooding once more that you dragged him away from his work. You didn't mind. Better this than the times Alfred forces Bruce to host social gatherings in the manor. At least now, he could freely brood without receiving concerned looks from the corporation's associates.

You'd grown used to his quiet nature. Oftentimes, you had nothing to say yourself and you'd both sit quietly in each other's company, content. Once, you had dinner with one of Bruce's socialite friends and, if the man wasn't a chatterbox himself, he'd have noticed how deathly silent you two were. Luckily, he was too full of himself to be aware neither of you chimed in on the conversation, feigning interest in whatever he said. Something about a watch collection.

Now, here you were in the bathroom. Bruce stood in front of the mirror with a towel draped over his shoulders to prevent hair from catching on his shirt. You combed through his hair, closing one eye and envisioning the result you wanted. Preferably, just short enough to stay out of his eyes. As an amateur, you didn't want to go for any specific style, despite the fact you really wanted to with this opportunity handed to you.

"How short should I cut it?" You asked.

"Doesn't matter," he said. You blanked and he backtracked. "Whatever you want."

Still not an answer you wanted to hear. You cupped his jaw, angling his head down so you could have a better view. Pinching his hair between two fingers, you curled them out and imagined if the length before your fingers would be enough. Or, if it'd look good.

You snorted at the thought you might fuck up badly. Bruce would either have to deal with it when he decided to go out and show the world he still existed, or he'd finally go to a professional. Knowing Bruce's current priorities, he'd probably walk around with horribly chopped hair as long as he didn't need to be out for longer than it took paparazzi to get the photos of him. Whatever made it look like he had a life as Bruce Wayne, the billionaire.

"What's so funny?" He raised a brow at you.

"Oh, nothing." You smiled cheekily. "Are you sure I should be the one doing this?"

"You care more about my hair than I do."

Fair enough. You let go of his hair and stepped back. "Lean over the sink. I don't want hair all over the floor."

"Yes, ma'am."

You both smiled at the playful response. Bruce braced his hands at the edge of the counter, expression dropping to neutral as he trained his eyes on the drain. Thinking ahead, you already plugged the drain. All you had to do after was collect the hair and dump it in the trash. You leaned around him and combed through a section of his hair, deciding to start in the back.

The first snip sent your heart on overdrive. Small small pieces fell onto the towel. You didn't think cutting hair would give you an adrenaline rush but perhaps it was the fact it was Bruce and his face usually ended up on tabloids. If you really did poorly, it'd be your work on the tabloid but still his face. You didn't want to embarrass him, as much as he didn't care about it.

The more you cut through his hair, the more you relaxed. You worked in small segments, not eager to chop it all off just yet. As much as you wanted to get it short right away, you still wanted him to look good. After all, he won't go to a barber after this.

Carefully, you made your way to the front. Bruce's eyes trailed up to your nervous look. He held them there long enough to watch your face twist in uncertainty before he looked back down. 

"You're doing fine."

Right. You exhaled, combed through his hair, and trimmed segments over the comb. It started to look crooked, given how you left his other side untouched. Walking around him to even out the other side, you further fell into the routine of things.

The whole time you trimmed his hair, Bruce kept his gaze to the sink. Even closing his eyes. He strained to hold his position this long and you finished by putting the scissors on the counter. You combed through his hair a few more times to get any stray hairs before you set the comb down as well.

Grabbing the towel, you peeled it off his shoulders and set it down. Before Bruce could stand, you brought your hand to the back of his neck and massaged slightly, working down to his shoulders. His shoulders slumped and he sighed before he took his cue to stand up fully.

"Okay, now face me." 

He turned to you. For an amateur, you outdid yourself. It had to be the strive for perfectionism. His hair stuck out oddly in some areas, but a simple comb-through would tame and hide the imperfections.

Unable to contain yourself, you waved jazz hands at the mirror and smiled widely at your work. "Ta-da!"

He didn't turn to the mirror. Instead, he reached up and pinched a string of hair, pulling it down. It fell above his eyebrows. Bruce nodded to you.

"Alright. You did it."

Your smile faltered at the lack of energy. "You look handsome," you tried.

"Thanks."

You quirked a brow. He stayed rooted to his spot, eyes locked on you. "Don't you want to see for yourself?" You gestured to the mirror.

Bruce's hand fell away from his hair. "I trust you."

You blanched, face warm. "Oh."

He grabbed the towel, brushing leftover hair into the sink. You moved around him to grab the trashcan and pulled off a square of toilet paper as you used it to gather the hair. Bruce set the towel in the basket of dirty laundry.

"Do I have permission to leave?"

You hummed, setting the trash can back in its place. "Not yet."

With a few steps, you were in his personal space. He understood what you wanted and leaned down slightly as you brought your hands to his hair. You smiled widely.

"Yeah, I did pretty well for my first time."

He shook his head. "Gonna keep me here all night?"

"Just might. Now that I know you have both beautiful eyes and a forehead? I might take you right here, Wayne."

"Cute," he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes and dropped your hands. "Alright, Mr. Brood. Go out and share that enthusiasm with the rest of Gotham."

"I just might."

"Brood." You playfully smacked his shoulder. "Scram."

He left shortly after, but not without gently cupping your face. The phantom touch of his fingers ghosting down your cheek made you warm. You watched giddily as he left you.

You may not have had him in bed with you that night to adore his hair, but when he woke up that afternoon, you made sure to ruffle his hair and compliment him as many times as you could.

Alfred, however, did not appreciate it as much as you did. 

He stared at Bruce's hair with concern. "What on earth have you done?"

Still, he would not go to a professional.

[tokusaatsus]

hi reze! congratulations on 100+ followers! you totally deserve it! i love your works so much<3

for the event, may i request kohaku + 6? (i know i have my own event going on but i need some kohaku content 👉👈)

thank you in advance!

OUKAWA KOHAKU + 6: "oh please, who's gonna stop us?" "the police."

warnings: minor allusions to violence (canon typical df activities)

“Come on,” You whine. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Kohaku gives you a skeptical look from where he’s standing on the ledge below, arms poised to catch you should you fall from your precarious perch leaning over the edge of windowsill. “Right… I dunno, Y/N-han. Are you sure ‘bout this?”

“Yes, of course! Now, pull me down.” You command, arms outstretched. Kohaku, ever reliable, does as asked but not without frowning at you all the while. “Why the face, Kohakun? You look like you just committed a prison break or something?”

“I kinda did, not gonna lie…” He says, shuffling his feet as he adjusts you so you lay in a more comfortable bridal carry. He is currently breaking you out from the highly secure StarPro offices in the middle of the night because you’re tired of working and you told him that you miss him and want to see him and he is, to quote Love-han, a ‘dumb simp for Y/N’.

“Exactly?! You saved me from Eichi-senpai’s stupid paperwork punishment.” You tell him, patting his cheek affectionately.

“And what happens if we get caught?”

“Oh, please,” You wave a dismissive hand. “Who’s gonna stop us?”

“The police?” Kohaku deadpans. You laugh, because you know he’s already figured out, like, 3 ways to bypass the alarm system. He wouldn’t have agreed to to fetch you if he didn’t (he would’ve anyways, but that’s for him to know and you to not).

He knows that this can’t be compared to what he and Madara-han do as Double Face, but he has to admit, it’s nice to be able to use an Oukawa’s skill sets for something as fun and mundane as breaking his partner out of their office so they can go on a date.

“Now let’s goooo! Before Yuzuru-senpai realises I’m not working anymore, ehehe…” You giggle nervously at the thought of the Himemiya Family’s butler and Kohaku takes that as his cue to make his escape.

notes!

WC: 329 words

reze txt HI HARU!! tysm for ur kind words ;_; they mean a lot to me <33 and ofc u can req some kohaku content (anything for u!!) i just think that kohaku deserves to do fun things sometimes w u?? anyways! hope u enjoy mwah <33

[helluvaoutlaw]

Striker glanced at Andrealphus and replied:

"She’ll be here on Sunday, so we’ve got five days to make sure everything is ready."

He paused for a moment, then added:

"I want the estate in top shape when she arrives. And make sure the staff is prepared for the Buckzos as well. We can’t afford any slip-ups with those two around."

The General nodded at the head-butler.

"Thank you, Andrealphus."

///////////////////////////////////////////////

On Sunday morning, Striker stood outside the mansion along with the staff, the morning sun casting a soft light over the grounds.

The air was crisp, carrying with it the subtle scent of the gardens.

His mother would've been here any minute.

His thoughts raced, thinking of everything he had planned, the rules he'd set, and the challenges that lay ahead. But today, none of that seemed to matter as much as his mother's arrival. He had finally convinced her to come live with him, and now, as he stood there waiting, he realized just how much her presence would mean to him.

The sound of hooves on gravel brought him out of his thoughts. The carriage came into view, moving steadily up the drive. Striker took a deep breath, straightening his posture, and moved closer to the path where it would stop.

When it did, the door opened and Lady June stepped out of the carriage.

Dressed in a simple yet elegant empire-waist regency dress of baby blue and pastel pink, she exuded an air of refined grace. The dress, flowing and modest, complemented her figure and hinted at an understated elegance that was characteristic of her presence.

Her curly black and gray hair, neatly tied up, was adorned with a thin headband of pearls, which shimmered softly in the evening light. Matching pearl jewelry subtly enhanced her natural beauty, catching the eye without overwhelming her ensemble. The short white satin gloves she wore added a touch of formality to her appearance, as if to signify that, despite the familial nature of her visit, she remained a lady of dignity and poise.

She paused for a moment, taking in the mansion before her, and then her gaze shifted to him. There was a warm, familiar smile on her lips as she stepped forward. Striker quickly closed the distance between them.

“Welcome home, mother.”

He smiled, his voice filled with a sincerity that matched the emotions welling up inside him.

Lady June reached out, grinning, her white satin-gloved hand resting in his.

"Oh Striker, sweetie, I've missed you so much!"

She hugged him delicately, cupping his face in her hands to observe him better.

"How are you doing? You're not working too much, are you? And I certainly hope you're sleeping enough."

"M-mother, I'm perfectly fine, I assure you."

The General blushed slightly and gently took her hands, offering the woman his elbow and walking with her up the stairs.

"Let me introduce you to the palace's staff: they worked hard to make sure that you would live comfortably."

"I'm sure they did."

She gave them all a smile and curtsied.

"I'm very grateful for your time and competence. I'm Lady June, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

@helluvaoutlaw

The household staff was lined up around the estate in tidy rows, like soldiers. The manor itself had belonged to a gruff old imp for many, many years after his ascension to General of the Legions, the second highest position in the military after the King. The staff had looked after his needs for quite some time...but he met his end two months ago, and a new General had been elected.

Coronis stood with most of her family in the line. They had been assigned to this household by virtue of their family lineage centuries ago. It was always one family of Goetia to tend to those in positions of power. The wings of the Satanic Army, the brutal forces that kept Hell in check.

Though she wriggled a little bit as they waited for the new General to arrive. They would be serving those one a great deal longer...if he survived the appointment. This one was new. This one was young.

General Striker had a name even before Satan appointed him the title. I just hope he's not as scary as the rumors say. Coronis sighed a little, still waiting.

[narrators-journal]

The final step

This is it boys! The final part! After this, I have no other fic to post, so I’ll probably return to original work or silence lol. But! I’ll try to post what I can to feed ya’ll content!

cw: descriptions of murder, Hint o’ Hisoka, reader’s pregnant

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi spent a while helping you pack before the butlers he'd requested showed up, than he returned to his home across the street to pack up as well. After all, with you now on the track to marry him, he would no longer need the home. Though, maybe we could keep it, and use it as something of a vacation spot to escape mother's unrelenting nagging. He mused.

While he was shoving his clothes into his bag and mulling over that option, he spoke to said mother, or, more-so half listened to Kikyo squeal and giggle in pure delight at the news of your pregnancy.        "Mother, please refrain from shrieking in my ear," he said when his excitable mother had to stop for breath,         "I'm sorry dear, but this is such good news! Your father and I were hoping this woman would prove to be a good wife, and while I will say it's a little soon for a baby, this is good news nonetheless!" She squealed, making the assassin huff,        "I know, I should've waited until after I'd married her to consummate," Kikyo about blew a raspberry at his words, making him blink,        "Illumi, we don't care if you decide to have sex before you get married. My only concern is that this woman isn't the right one for you." she said, "Your father would prefer that you choose a woman a bit more suited for our line of work, but if she's really as submissive as you described, I'm sure she'll be a fine addition to the family. Oh! And I'm sure your child will be absolutely adorable! I can't wait to put little booties on them, and absolutely dote on them like you no longer let me do-"          "Mother," Illumi said, though his mother knew despite his monotone voice that he was annoyed.          "Well, you don't." she sniffed before changing the subject. "Anyway, when are you bringing her home? I want to meet her already!" she said, going into a bit of a rant over his failure to even show Kikyo a picture of you, but her son was no longer listening. Instead, Illumi's attention was turned to his surroundings, his senses on high alert from the waves of malicious intent he felt so suddenly from the direction of your home.         "Mother, was Hisoka released?" Illumi asked, his mother's voice dying at the palpable tension coming through the phone,         "I believe so? Your grandfather was apparently sick of the creep, so he had him thrown out." she offered a second before Illumi hung up. In a flash, the assassin was across the street at your home, his needles at the ready. As soon as he set foot in the house, the assassin was greeted with the familiar scent of blood hanging in the air like a heavy blanket and a silence that ate at his nerves. Your home was quiet. too quiet. It about drove the assassin insane with the possible reasons behind the lack of life. Of course, the butlers that were tasked with helping you pack your clothes were dead, so that helped to explain the stifling quiet, but the sight of the help mercilessly slaughtered didn't justify the way Illumi's heart raced and a strange feeling gripped at his throat until he felt he couldn't breathe. The only time that feeling seemed to finally leave, only to be replaced with wrath, was when the casually dressed assassin slipped into your bathroom, his needles poised to be thrown, and he was met with the one person he didn't want to see inside of your home.         "Hisoka." he hissed, his dark eyes narrowing and his aura reflecting the heated rage that boiled his blood at the sight of the brightly colored magician, who turned to look at him lazily, frowning as if the soulless man was as equally unwanted as the pink haired man was,         "Before you maul me and get no answers, I didn't hurt your precious (y/n)." He assured, plucking one of his signature playing cards and licking the blood of a butler from it before continuing "I believe she crawled out of the bathroom window. So, I suggest you go get her back before you focus on me. Don't want her to get too far away now, do we?" The magician pouted, knowing damned well Illumi wouldn't bother with him after that news, which meant Illumi wouldn't be fighting him, yet. The assassin did, in fact, leave the magician at your house, going out instead to find you. If the help wasn't so fucking incompetent this would be a lot easier. He thought as he forced his wrathful aura into zetsu while he coldly rushed by the corpses and returned outside to prowl down the chilly streets of town, turning that edgy, strangling, anxiety feeling in his throat into energy to fuel his possessive hunt for his wife, his property. On the bright side of the situation though, you were nothing compared to the dark-haired predator, so he had that to cool his unhinged emotions before running into you. You were a recluse, you likely didn't know your way around town that well, so your trail was pretty obvious. In times of life threatening danger, people, more-so women, usually went to crowded areas after all, and you didn't know of many places that would offer help, so you were likely going to head to your grocery store. Knowing that, Illumi was able to get ahead of you, scooping you up before you could slow from a mad dash fuelled by mortal terror to a speed at which you could avoid slamming into the hunter's chest.        "(y/n)," he growled, shaking you once, firmly, to put a stop to your flailing and squirming, "I am this close to jamming one of my needles into your brain. STOP IT." He ordered, the force of slightly panicked rage in his words making you freeze and stare up in terror at him with your wide (e/c) eyes. For a few seconds you stared at one another, your form squished to his in an inescapable grip while his soulless eyes glared down at you until you finally burst into tears.       "Please! Just let me go!" You plead, your voice quivering with barely restrained sobs, so he took a deep breath and ran his thumb down your already tear-stained cheek,       "Why would I do that? I'm only trying to keep you and our baby safe." he reminded you, but you shook your head vigorously, making bits of your (h/l), (h/c) hair stick to your face,        "You're scaring me! Please let me go, I'm begging you Illumi." you cried, trying to shake his comforting hug off,        "I thought you loved me," he said, not releasing you even when your upset tantrum stuttered to a stop. For a moment, you seemed conflicted, but than closed your eyes and tried to kick him to no avail,         "I...I don't know anymore. You've...become so scary recently, I have to p-put my own well being ahead of any shallow attraction." you sniffled, digging your nails into his t-shirt. He brushed a strand of hair from your (s/c) face as you shook against him          "(y/n), I would never do anything to harm you or our baby unless you force me to. Just behave and act like you did before figuring out you were pregnant, everything will be okay." he assured, making his voice as comforting, soft, and loving as he could manage to try and sooth you. Thankfully, he could see the fear and rebellion in your (e/c) eyes dim, returning to their usual, gorgeously submissive state. After that, you only gave one final attempt at escaping his arms before finally giving up. "Good girl, (y/n). Now, let's go home. My mother is about to implode in her excitement to meet you." After that, Illumi returned to the house he had bought for his bag of clothes, then made a beeline for the Zoldyck estate. On the trip there, the long haired assassin tried to make you happy, providing you food, comfortable places to sleep when need-be, and finding you little gifts related to your hobbies to try and entertain and make you smile. He could tell that you were still uncomfortable with him, but you slowly began to warm back up to him when your human need for companionship demanded it. However, the one thing he couldn't save you from or prepare you for, was Kikyo. The woman about tackled Illumi when he pushed open the testing gates, but as soon as you were through and safely on Zoldyck land with your husband protectively at your side, his mother began her fussing.       "She looks so ill! Illumi, did you make sure she's physically healthy?"       "She's not much to look at, maybe if she tried more make-up and clothes that fit her better?"       "Illumi, where are her things? Did you just snatch her up off of the street while she was pregnant?!" The only thing that saved you and Illumi from his mother's judgements and chiding was a firm look from his father, Silva, who was making a rare appearance to greet you in a much calmer manner.       "To answer your questions, I will get the family doctor to look her over, and her things had to be left. A threat came up and I needed to bring her here before harm befell her, so I will need to buy her new clothes." The dead eyed assassin assured his mother, who obviously had more hen pecking to do, but she refrained under the stern look of her husband. After that, Illumi got you nicely settled in to his bedroom, and while you did put up some more of a fight over staying there, you mostly accepted your role as his wife-to-be and mother of his child rather easily. He knew you were simply acting out from your hormones and the stress of your situation, so he did his best to keep his temper with you.         "It'll be okay (y/n), once you get comfortable here, we'll be happy." Illumi soothed one night after one of your bouts of sobbing and fighting to escape while he sat, cross-legged with you in his lap and his hands rubbing your belly. You weren't showing much yet, but it still pleased him greatly to now have his wife and child safely at home. That's right, he thought, letting a rare smile spread across his usually unreadable face, you're home now, (y/n)...

[joonie-beanie]

Stress Relief

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader x Diavolo

Word Count: 10,061

Preview: The Royals have been bogged down with a busy workload, so you decided to help relieve some of their stress in whatever way you can.

Read as: Barbatos has a thing for rope bondage, and Diavolo is just happy to be involved.

This chapter is also being posted as a part of my ��Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Also! This is a follow-up to Bath Time, and Helping Hands, so if you haven’t read those, I would recommend doing that first!

For as long as you’ve known Barbatos, you’ve assumed that the butler is perfect in every sense of the word. He’s skilled, and handles his tasks without complaint, and in a timely manner. He addresses his duties with a kind smile—never wavering.

Despite his busy schedule, he never shows signs of cracking.

…until today.

You walk into RAD that fateful Friday morning, and discover Barbatos in the student council room—frowning. Now, seeing Barbatos frown is not entirely out of character. You’ve seen him frown in worry, and in concentration. He does have emotions, after all, but…today he just looks stressed.

There are dark circles under his eyes. The way he’s hurriedly searching through papers—a few slipping off the table and onto the floor—is a sign of his current out-of-character state.

Without second thought, you stride into the room and begin picking up the papers on the floor. Barbatos startles ever so slightly when he notices you at his feet—too absorbed in his current task to have heard you approach.

He sighs.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Are you okay?” you respond to his quiet, tired words. There’s genuine concern in your eyes as you press to your full height, and hand the small stack of papers back to him. “I’ve never seen you like this before…”

“It’s been quite a hectic week…or two,” he admits, exhaling in relief as he finally uncovers the report he’d been looking for. “Typically, like students, Lord Diavolo and I are able to rest on the weekends—only dealing with a few, small meetings here or there. But the last two weeks, every day is busy from dawn to dusk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say sincerely. You reach out and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Barbatos smiles at the gesture. Then, in an uncharacteristic turn of events, he sets the paper in his hand back on the desk, and turns to fully face you. He envelops you in a tender hug—one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other moves to cradle against the back of your head.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this sudden display of affection,” he mumbles, his breath tickling your ear as his cheek nuzzles against your hair. “I didn’t realize how much being unable to see you on Sunday would affect me during the week.”

His admission has your cheeks heating up ever so slightly, and you lift your arms—wrapping them tightly around his middle.

Due to Barbatos and Diavolo’s lack of free time, the two had been forced to cancel their tea time with you the previous weekend. You’d been disappointed, considering you’d gotten so used to ending your week in the company of the two, but there was nothing you could do about it. If they were busy, you’d have to suck it up.

“Will you be free this weekend?” you ask him, pulling back to look into his green eyes. He can see the concern, and longing in your gaze. Apparently, you’ve missed him and his Lord as well.

“I can work around your schedule, since I don’t have much to do. Of course, if you’re both too busy, I’ll understand, but—”

He cuts you off with a kiss to your forehead.

“I will double check the schedule and contact you later.” He reaches over and grabs the stack of papers—topped with the report he’d been looking for. As he takes the neat stack into his arms, he turns and flashes you one last smile.

“Thank you for the brief moment of peace. It is greatly appreciated.”

With that, he makes his way out of the student council room with the normal poise and grace he always exhibits. Once alone, you take a deep breath, and hold a hand to your cheek. It’s warm—painted with a light blush.

Really, it’s rare that Barbatos is the one to initiate a show of affection with you. Typically, you’re the one hugging him (although he always reciprocates).

The last time he had initiated skinship was weeks ago, after he’d paid you a visit at the House of Lamentation due to your ailing back.

Memories of that night attempt to push to the forefront of your mind, and you desperately try to shove them away. It’s the middle of the day—you don’t need to be thinking about Barbatos’ hands on your skin, or the way his fingers had felt inside of you…the way he’d looked while his dick was in your mouth…his cute post-orgasm face…

Shaking your head, you smack your red cheeks. You don’t need to be thinking about those types of things during school hours.

Yes, it’s been a few weeks since that fateful day with the royal butler, and you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t crossed your mind sexually every so often since then. However, you’d gotten bogged down with school work—any of your scarce free time going to the brothers—so despite your longing, and Barbatos’ offer of another massage if you wished, you hadn’t gotten a chance to ask.

Then, of course, once your schedule had opened up, Barbatos’ had narrowed. His duties piled up—filling his days with work—and you’d have felt far too guilty asking him for anything on top of his already busy schedule.

Aside from last Sunday, you’d still managed to maintain your weekly appointment of Sunday evening tea with the butler and Demon Prince, but bringing up sexual favors while sipping on Earl Grey and eating tiny sandwiches hardly seemed appropriate.

So, you’ve accepted that maybe it will be a while until you’re able to inquire about Barbatos’ services again. And while it’s a little disappointing, you don’t intend to push the matter. Barbatos already works so hard, and you don’t want to burden him with your sexual need.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the straps of your backpack, and nod to yourself. While you long for another massage experience from the royal butler, you can live without one. Right now, you just want his schedule to clear up, so you can resume your regular Sunday tea with him and Diavolo. And if that’s all you’re able to receive, at the moment, then you’ll still be satisfied.

Smiling, you finally step out of the student council room and make your way to your next class.

Hours later—as you’re heading back to your room following dinner with the brothers—you feel your DDD vibrate. Curious, you pull out the device and look at the notification lingering on the screen.

[New Text from Barbatos]

Your heart skips a beat—nervous to see the contents. There’s a big possibility that the royals are still busy this weekend, and that they won’t be able to squeeze you in anywhere.

You take a moment to calm yourself before clicking into the message.

Barbatos: I apologize for my late follow-up. It seems that Lord Diavolo and I will not be available for our normal Sunday Tea time again.

Barbatos: However, I am free starting at 7pm on Saturday evening, if you would like to come over. Lord Diavolo will be tied up with a meeting until a bit later, but he expressed interest in joining should the meeting adjourn at an acceptable hour.

Barbatos: I understand if you already have plans, but please let me know if I should expect you.

You’d already promised to have a self-care night with Asmo on Saturday, but honestly—you’re sure that he’ll understand.

You: That works just fine for me! I will be over at 7 tomorrow.

Barbatos responds with a happy sticker, and you find yourself smiling. You can’t wait to see them.

The hours tick by slower than you think possible the following day as you wait for evening to come. 

Due to the addition into your schedule, you and Asmo change your self-care night to a self-care afternoon. Thankfully, Gossiping with the Avatar of Lust--while doing face masks, and sipping on mimosas--definitely helps to pass the time quicker.

The two of you finish up just before dinner, and head down to the dining hall together. You eat merrily with the 7 brothers—making conversation, and listening to their banter. By the time the table is cleared, and everyone’s bellies are full of food, it’s already nearing 6:30.

Hurrying back to your room, you make sure you look presentable. You mess with your hair—trading your shorts and tank top for a knee-length sundress. Not only has the Devildom been heating up lately, but you always try to dress a bit nicer in front of the royals. So, a sundress should be perfect for the occasion.

Throwing your DDD into a small purse Satan had gifted you some time ago, you sling the bag over your shoulder and make your way from your room. You run into Lucifer by the front door, and he surveys you with a knowing look.

“You’re headed to the Demon Lord’s Castle, correct? I’ll walk you part way. I’m leaving to meet someone in town.”

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping through the front door when he holds it open for you. The two of you then start away from the House of Lamentation, comfortably at each other’s sides.

“How did you know that I’m heading to the Castle?” you ask him as you walk. You don’t recall sharing your plans for the night with any of the brothers. Even when you’d changed the time of your plans with Asmo, and he had inquired, you’d just said that something had come up. (He had begrudgingly accepted that response—too curious for his own good).

“I had a meeting with Barbatos and Diavolo this morning,” he tells you, eyes ahead as he guides you through the crowded streets. “Diavolo was whining about how he hopes his meeting with the planning committee tonight won’t drag on too long, so he can join you and Barbatos before it’s time for you to leave.”

“I mean…how late can the meeting possibly drag?” you question, blinking innocently. There’s no way a meeting will last beyond…10…11pm, right?

“Depending on the matters that need to be discussed, I’ve witnessed the meeting last until 2 in the morning,” he informs you with a shake of his head. “Diavolo hates speaking with the committee more than anything, so I hope he’ll be able to wrap things up in a timely manner.”

“That would be nice,” you say honestly. “It seems like they’ve both been running rampant... Speaking of, how is your workload?”

You grin up at him, a knowing look in your eyes. Lucifer sighs, smoothing a hand through his dark hair.

“My time to sleep is limited, but for once, it seems that I’m not fairing the worst among the three of us. I hope your visit with Barbatos and Diavolo will help them relax a little.”

“I don’t know if I have that type of power, but I hope so too,” you laugh, pausing when Lucifer places his hand atop your hair. He regards you fondly—the two of you standing in the middle of the city street.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he says, and then steps away. “This is where I leave you. I believe you know the rest of the way, yes?”

You nod, and he raises a hand—bidding you farewell.

“Don’t stay too late. If you need an escort home, text the group chat and one of us will come get you.”

“Will do, Lucifer~,” you drawl, tempted to roll your eyes. They’re always so overprotective of you—it’s not like you always need an escort.

Lucifer flashes you the slightest of glares—lips tugging into a smirk—before he turns and disappears up a side street. Now on your own, you continue up the wide road—taking the familiar path to the castle. You arrive a few minutes later, and when you knock on the grand front door, it only takes a few seconds for Barbatos to pull it open.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he says, eyes creasing pleasantly as he smiles. You can see the exhaustion beginning to settle into the small lines of his face.

“Of course. I was looking forward to seeing you,” you respond honestly. As he guides you into the castle, you can hear the chatter of distant voices, and assume that Diavolo’s meeting with the committee must have already started.

“Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to prepare the tea yet.”

“No worries!” you say immediately, flashing him a reassuring smile. “I’ll help out if I can, too!”

Barbatos chuckles. “I’d appreciate that.”

Engulfed in a comfortable silence, the two of you make your way to the kitchen. Once there, Barbatos pulls out a kettle, and then moves to fetch the tea. However, when he pulls open the wooden cupboard, he pauses.

Curious, you step up behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

The cupboard is entirely empty.

Barbatos places his gloved palms on the counter, his head hanging in defeat, and an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. You stare at him, shocked to see the crack in his professional demeanor.

“The other servants must have grabbed the last of it to serve the guests at the meeting…”

“It’s okay, Barb!!” You say immediately, jumping back and throwing your arms into the air. “We don’t need tea!! It’s not Sunday anyway!”

The butler turns to look at you, and can’t help but laugh at your dorky position.

“I suppose you’re right,” he admits, raising a hand to cover his face as he releases a few more chuckles. Your cheeks heat up a little, realizing you must look silly, and you drop your arms.

“Besides, I don’t want you to feel obligated to serve me while I’m here! This is supposed to be a break for you, since you’ve been so busy!”

“But if we’re not having tea, then what shall we do?” he questions, tilting his head to the side innocently. You blink, lifting a hand to your chin as you ponder the thought.

“Well…is there anything I can do to help you relax?” you smile at him kindly as you speak. “You’ve been working hard, so if there’s anything I can do to ease some of the stress off your shoulders, I’d love to help.”

Barbatos regards you curiously at the offer—like there’s an idea that immediately comes to mind, but he’s not sure if he wants to say it. You assume that perhaps he’ll ask you to help with a chore, or will ask for something like a foot rub. Oh! Or maybe to play a board game.

Instead, he ends up flashing you a small smile. He extends his hand, holding it out to you, and you take it without a second thought. Fingers slotting through your own, he then tugs you from the kitchen and back into the hall—leading you somewhere else.

“There is a hobby I have that helps me to relieve stress. It’s a bit…unorthodox, so if you’re not comfortable with it, then—”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Barb!” you interrupt him, a pout on your lips. “I want to help you unwind, so whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it.”

He gives your hand a squeeze, an amused look in his eyes. He doesn’t bother with a rebuttal—simply letting you think what you wish.

Silently, he guides you through the long halls. At some point, you pass the entrance to the magnificent bathroom you’d once discovered Diavolo bathing in. Your experience with the aphrodisiac, and Diavolo helping you out on that night feels like a fever dream. The thought of his stupidly large cock, and his hands on your body has you getting warm all over, and you shake your head to try and rid yourself of the sinful imagery.

The event had happened months ago, at this point. Since then, you and Diavolo have never spoken on it, and you wonder if he regrets his actions—feeling like perhaps he had overstepped his boundaries with a guest in the heat of the moment.

However, considering he acts friendly and kind to you as always—still offering hugs, and other simple shows of affections—you haven’t bothered confronting him about it. As long as the two of you are on good terms, that’s what matters to you. (Even if you have occasionally fantasized about fitting his cock inside you since then).

“Are you thinking of Lord Diavolo?” Barbatos’ voice drags you out of your thoughts, a knowing look in his eyes as he regards you. You blush, embarrassed at having been read so easily.

“I…I just…I wonder, sometimes, if he solely helped me out of a sense of obligation, or if he enjoyed it as much as I did,” you admit quietly. Barbatos gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “We’ve never talked about what happened, so…Agh, I’m sorry—is it weird that I’m talking about this with you? I don’t—”

“It’s not strange, Y/N,” he interrupts you with a shake of his head. “Lord Diavolo and I are quite close. Not to mention, I was there the night you were affected by the bath, remember?”

In that moment, you suddenly recall that yes—Barbatos had been there to see you in all of your needy glory—and you heat up more. If he notices, he chooses not to comment.

“While Lord Diavolo may have acted as he did to stop the effects of the aphrodisiac, I assure you he received just as much enjoyment out of your predicament as you did.”

Curious to the meaning of his words, you furrow your brow and stare at him. Barbatos just smiles—giving nothing away. Not until you start angrily pouting, at least. Then, he loosens his lips with a quiet sigh.

“I went to check on My Lord after I saw you return to your room, and when I approached his chambers, I could tell he was…preoccupied with the affliction you had given him.”

Meaning, he had overhead Diavolo jacking off to the thought of you after he’d left you alone in the bathing area to clean yourself up.

Ah.

“Okay, can we stop talking about this before I combust, and die?” you ask, a hint of a whine slipping into your tone. You tug your hand from Barb’s grip to cover your blushing face. He chuckles.

“For someone so lewd, you certainly do get embarrassed easily by your own actions.”

“I’m gonna request that you STOP calling me out like this, thanks,” you shoot back, glaring at him through spread fingers. He breathes a laugh, and you pause in your stride as he suddenly stops in front of a closed door.

Looking around, you realize that you’ve never been to this part of the castle before.

Twisting the handle to the door, Barbatos pushes it open and then ushers you inside. You regard the sizable room curiously.

It looks similar to any other lounge in the castle. The walls are lined with bookshelves and paintings. There are four couches—all placed in large square formation around where a coffee table would typically be. However, there is no coffee table.

Instead, about 8 feet from the ground, there’s a long, thick strip of bamboo. The bamboo is held up by tan colored rope—thick, professional knots secured to either end of the wood, and leading back up to hooks on the ceiling.

In fact, when you look closer. You can see that there are hooks mounted to the ceiling in multiple areas around the room. Not to mention the dozen spirals of rope hanging off hooks near the fireplace.

You swallow the saliva that has pooled in your mouth.

“You…use rope bondage to relieve stress?”

“Oh? You’re familiar with it?” he questions, stepping across the threshold of the room. He reaches up to grab one of the perfectly kept bundles of rope—trailing his fingers across the soft, red fibers.

You hold your arms shyly in front of you. This is a turn of events which you hadn’t been expecting tonight.

“I’ve always found it to be interesting, and beautiful, in a way,” you admit, purposely leaving out how you find it entirely too arousing as well. Just the thought of Barbatos tying you up has wetness already beginning to gather between your thighs. But, you don’t want to make it awkward—fearing that perhaps Barb doesn’t get any sexual gratification from the activity—so you stay silent about how much it turns you on.

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed to helping me relieve some of my stress, if this is what is involved?”

Your gaze shifts from the handsome butler, to the rope in his grasp, to the bamboo anchor in the center of the room. You wet your lips, and then smile at him.

“Of course. I’d be more than happy to.”

At your words, Barbatos steps forward—stalking over to where you’re standing just within the ring of couches. His mossy eyes regard you softly. You feel your heart hammering away within your ribs.

“Do you promise you’re saying that sincerely? I don’t want to hurt you, nor push you beyond what you’re comfortable with.”

“I know, Barb,” you tell him softly. You reach your hand out—fingertips skimming over slightly rough fibers of the rope. You’re sure you’ll feel a slight bite when he ties you up, but the thought only serves to heighten your arousal. “I wouldn’t agree if I didn’t want to help. And I trust you. Please don’t worry—this is what I want.”

A pleased look settling on his face, he leans down and presses the briefest of kisses to your forehead.

“I’m glad to hear so.”

Taking a step back, the butler regards you contemplatively.

“I would hate to ruin your dress. And it’s easier to tie with less clothing in the way. Would you mind removing it?”

Your face heats up at the request, but you nod—moving to slip the straps off your shoulders. After all, he’d massaged you all those weeks ago. It’s not like seeing your body is anything new to him.

“Just the dress?”

It’s an innocent question. You want to make his job as easy as possible.

“You—”

“Hey, isn’t this basically just more work for you?” you interrupt him as you shimmy your dress down your torso to the swell of your hips. He chuckles, gaze flitting down to look at your sheer-lace bra. The black color matches your underwear—although the panties aren’t lace, nor see through. (You hadn’t accidentally wanted to flash a demon (or at least, reveal too much) in town if the wind decided to flip your dress up on your journey over).

“It does take effort on my part, but I don’t consider it to be “work”,” he tells you. “And yes, just your dress is fine. Your undergarments won’t get in the way.”

“Okay,” you nod, voice soft. You finish stepping out of your dress—discarding it onto one of the nearby couches. Barb looks over your form appreciatively, and you seriously wish you could learn how to control your blushes.

“It’s important that you stretch, first. I don’t want you hurting your back again.”

“What? Not interested in giving me any more massages?” you tease, eyes sparkling at him. He breathes a laugh.

“I never said that.”

As you bend over—touching your toes, and stretching out your tight muscles, Barbatos moves across the room to grab more spools of rope. The entire time, his gaze lingers on you—taking note of your level of flexibility.

He’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. The cogs in his brain start turning as he silently debates which position he should tie you in.

After a few minutes of stretching, it seems that Barbatos is finally satisfied to begin.

“This may take some time to tie. If you’re ever uncomfortable, or the rope feels too tight—please let me know.”

“I will, Barb.”

With that, the demon butler is quick to get to work. He instructs you to lift your arms, and you do so obediently—watching him as he wraps the rope around your torso, just beneath your bust. He stops every so often to check the firmness of his ties—making sure that he can slip a finger between the rope and your skin. He wants it to be loose enough that it won’t impede your blood flow, but tight enough that you’ll stay bound once he attempts to suspend you.

Before long, Barbatos has dressed you with a chess harness—your clothed tits pressing against the lacy fabric of your bra as the ties above, below, and between your breasts squeeze your mounds and push them outwards.

Satisfied with his work, he nods his head and takes a step away.

“Could you please sit on the floor, and spread your legs?”

His request reminds you of the growing pool of arousal in your nether region, but you comply nonetheless.

Sitting on the hardwood floor, you drop your arms to your sides and spread your legs. As you do so, the butler walks over to the fireplace. Just above the mantle is a hook—a strand of rope securely weaved around it. As Barbatos works on loosening the thick, hemp rope, you trace it’s path across the ceiling, and realize it’s the rope currently controlling the height of the bamboo anchor above you.

As the demon unfurls the rope from around the hook, the solid strip of bamboo moves closer to the ground. Soon, it’s only a few feet from the floor.

Satisfied with its new height—at least for the time being—Barbatos loosely wraps the rope back around the hook and then returns to your side.  He kneels behind you, and you gasp when his fingers tug at the knot of rope between your shoulder blades.

“Too tight?” he questions, reaching to snag another bundle of red rope from the couch. You shake your head.

“Nope, just right.”

He hums considerately at your comment, sounding a little amused.

You remain silent as he drags more rope against your back—threading it through the bulk of your chest harness. Each pass of the soft fabric has goosebumps rising on your skin, and your gaze glances down between your still spread legs.

Hopefully since your panties are black, he won’t be able to see the wet spot that has formed…

You breathe shakily when Barbatos hefts the rope over the bamboo bar—giving it a tug. You feel the chest harness hug your tits ever tighter at the action, and you bite your lip to hold back from groaning. Honestly, if he touched your clit right now, you’re sure he could bring you to climax with little effort…

However, since you’re still attempting to be considerate of the fact that this is his stress relief, you don’t say anything. You remain carefully silent as he secures you to the anchor via the chest harness—an additional length of rope winding around your waist. He ties it to the bamboo as well—hoping to take some of the pressure off of your chest, seeing as he doesn’t want to bruise your ribs.

Once that’s taken care of, he moves in front of you. There are two more lengths of rope in his grasp.

For the first time in a while, Barbatos takes a moment to regard you. He’s been so caught up in his work, that aside from little inquiries as to your comfort, he hasn’t gotten a chance to really check in on you.

What he finds before him is a little startling.

Your cheeks are painted red—eyes blown wide, and lips slightly swollen from how much you’ve been biting them in order to try and control your reactions. As his gaze rakes down, glossing over your chest, he notes that your breathing is quick--your nipples taut against the thin cups of your bra. A tell-tale sign of your arousal.

A handsome grin tugs at his lips.

Reaching down, he squeezes the meat of your inner thigh with one hand, stretching your leg open wider. He lifts his other hand to his mouth—effortlessly tugging the white glove off with his teeth—before he’s dragging two of his digits gently up the crotch of your panties.

“My, I guess I shouldn’t have worried about being selfish with my request,” he chuckles. You pout at him angrily, eyes glancing away.

“Don’t tease me…I was trying to be polite…”

The pout on your lips fades away the moment his naked palm cups your cheek. Gently, he guides you to look at him—his face just inches from yours.

“I apologize for teasing,” he says. “I’m pleased to know you’re enjoying yourself beyond what I expected.”

To emphasize his words, he leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips. Immediately you’re moaning, hands reaching forward to fist in his shirt—keeping him close to you. Your mouths slot together—slow, languid kisses being exchanged between you.

“Would you like to continue?” he eventually mumbles, and when your eyelashes flutter open, you find him staring at you—a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been present before.

“Yes, please.”

 Sitting back, Barbatos tugs off his other glove and immediately resumes his work.

He starts at your ankles—wrapping the rope around you a few times, before tossing it over the bamboo--this time on the outside of the sturdy hemp, which is keeping the light-weight wood anchored to the ceiling. He repeats the action on your other leg, mirroring his previous actions, and then moves to make a tie just above your knee with a new spool.

This time, there’s an additional command.

“Lift your arms up.”

You do so, watching him with bated breath as he once again threads the rope across the slab of wood above you. This time, however, he pulls the rope tight—hiking your leg as high as it will go in combination with the ankle ties keeping your legs spread wide.

Once the rope is taut, he ties it around your wrists—letting you keep your arms bent. Your hand instinctively moves to hold onto the rope once the knot is finished, and you give it an experimental tug downward. The additional tension causes your legs to part even more—revealing all you have to offer.

“Are you, ah, fond of having girls spread wide like this for you?” you ask, a little breathless as you watch him grab one final coil of the rope. This time he moves to secure it around your upper thighs, right near your pelvis. He threads it beneath the rope around your waist—tugging it tight, and truly making sure your legs are spread as much as possible. You actually start to feel a dull strain as he makes the final tie—mirroring it on your other leg, per usual.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he responds, smiling as he pulls on the rope in a few places—making small adjustments to the tension in certain ties in order to ensure that your weight will be evenly distributed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this, and I can confidently say that you’re making it far more entertaining than I expected.”

“Well, you’re welcome for that.”

Chuckling, he presses to his feet and moves past you. The butler makes his way to the fireplace, once more taking hold of the rope tied above it.

“I’m going to suspend you now,” he informs you, and your pussy clenches at his words. “If you feel pain, tell me and we will stop immediately.”

“Okay,” you breathe, licking your lips. In the next moment, you feel the rope around you dig into your skin ever so slightly—your ass inching off of the ground as Barbatos effortlessly moves the bamboo anchor higher into the air.

Within seconds—you're fully suspended, your body about 3 feet from the floor. The rope bites at your flesh, but not painfully. Just enough to remind you that you’re tied up, in the air, and at Barbatos’ mercy.

Since you don’t express any discontent, Barbatos re-secures the rope around the hook, and then makes his way to the center of the room. He takes his time walking around you—surveying his work. His fingers trail across your sensitive skin, making you gasp. Your legs jump against the bindings in reaction to his touches, but your limbs barely move--his skillful ties keeping you obediently held in the position he has chosen for you.

“Barb…,” you whine, not knowing how much more of this you can take. You’ve been horny since the moment you’d stepped foot into the room, and you’re sure at least an hour has passed since he began tying you—if not more. Your panties are practically soaked. You need some type of relief, and soon, or you honestly think you’ll explode.

Barbatos steps in front of you, two fingers hooking beneath your chin and angling your head up to look at him. He smiles.

“Is there a problem?”

There’s a mirthful glint in his eye. It’s clear he’s feeling more playful now that he’s in his element.

“I…please touch me.”

“I thought earlier you expressed worry in me doing “extra work”? It certainly sounds like you’re asking me to exert myself with that request.”

“Barb, please,” you whine, struggling against the rope as you attempt to lean up and kiss him. There’s no way he can deny you after all of this—not when you’re in such a state. “Please. I need you.”

Your begging sounds like music to his ears, and he gives in a little—leaning down to kiss you. You melt into the sensation.

“How would you like me to touch you, Y/N?”

“I…I want your cock, this time,” you say honestly, mumbling the words embarrassedly against him. You feel bad asking. After your previous escapade, you’d gotten the feeling that Barbatos was more comfortable in pleasing others, rather than focusing on himself. After all, despite having gotten hard, he had never asked to have sex with you. He’d been content with getting you off on his fingers, and likely would have let himself remain hard without solace if you hadn’t offered to help him in return.

Barbatos pauses at your request.

“It’s okay, if you’re not comfortable,” you quickly say, understanding painted in your eyes as you regard him. “I just…have been thinking about the possibility of having you inside of me, since last time, so—”

“If I am what you want, then I shall give you what you ask,” he interrupts, leaning in to steal another tender kiss. A quiet moan escapes you.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offering otherwise.”

He cups your cheeks, peppering you with kisses, and then steps back. You watch him with rapt attention as he fiddles with his belt—working to free his cock from it’s confines. You hadn’t noticed before, but he’s already hard—straining against the zipper of his slacks.

Luckily, he’s skilled with his hands. It only takes a few seconds until his length is free—his slacks and the boxer briefs beneath them resting just below his pelvis.

“We should have taken these off, if you desired this outcome,” he comments, finger looping beneath the crotch of your panties. You pout at him, but don’t bother retorting. Right now, the only thing on your mind is Barbatos putting his cock inside of you and fucking you until you cum.

Noting your hungry stare, Barbatos doesn’t bother asking permission before he moves your panties to the side, revealing your slick womanhood. Grasping his length, he guides the tip of his cock between your folds—wetting himself with your arousal. When he catches your clit, you openly moan—body flexing against the ropes holding you in place.

Barbatos can’t help but smile.

“Always so needy.”

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a heated groan—the demon butler sheathing himself into your heat without warning. Your sopping walls allow him to glide in easily, and the sudden stretch has your eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, Barb,” you breathe his name, fixing him with the most pitiful face you can manage. You need him to move—now.

He’s more than happy to comply.

Barbatos rocks his hips back and forth gently, fucking in and out of you with care as he assures that you’re okay for him to move despite the abrupt intrusion. He feels your walls clench around him—seeking more—and he takes a deep breath at the sensation. You feel so good.

Gripping your waist, he thrusts into you with fervor. His speed increases, a blush dusting his cheeks as his gaze shifts between your blissful face, and your greedy pussy. In all his years, he’s never seen someone take his cock so beautifully.

Quick pants slipping past your lips, you instinctively tug at the rope wrapped around your wrists—accidentally spreading your legs wider as he fucks you. You can feel the strain on your thigh muscles, but right now, it’s the least of your worries. You’re too preoccupied with the way Barbatos’ cock is dragging inside of you—hitting you in all the right places.

“Please touch my clit,” you gasp, sensing your impending orgasm. You feel bad, being so close already, but you can’t help it. Barbatos’ cock throbs as he realizes how quickly you’re coming unraveled thanks to him. At this rate, he won’t last very long either.

Always happy to serve, the butler removes one hand from your waist and presses his thumb into your clit. The swift, side to side motion against the sensitive bundle of nerves has you choking on a moan—your head lolling backwards.

“Oh fuck,” you bite, the muscles in your torso tensing. Barbatos can feel your pussy tightening around him, and he clenches his jaw. Keeping his rhythm, it’s only another minute until you’re crying out his name—body spasming against the bindings as you reach the apex of your pleasure. Your pussy milks around his cock, constricting so tightly that a curse actually falls from the demon’s lips.

With a strained groan, he pulls himself from inside of you—his seed spurting against your used pussy, with a few stray droplets painting your thighs.

You’re just about to whine at the sudden loss of him when the door to the room creaks open. Immediately, you’re ejected from the bliss of your orgasm—heart hammering against your ribs and eyes flying open as you turn to see who has discovered you and Barbatos in such a compromising state.

“I actually managed to get the committee to end the meeting early, and went in search of the two of you,” the Demon Prince himself speaks, stepping inside. “When I discovered our typical spot empty, and then noticed the lack of tea in the kitchen cupboards, I thought I’d better check here. Seems I was right to.”

Diavolo chuckles as the door clicks closed behind him. He reaches up to loosen his tie, his infamous red coat nowhere to be found.

“My Lord,” Barbatos speaks, bowing. You glance down and notice that the butler has already tucked himself back into his pants—looking perfect as usual. The only hint of his recently experienced bliss is a few stray hairs sticking to his forehead, and a dust of blush on his cheeks.

Oh, and the cum that’s leaking down your skin.

The Demon Prince smiles pleasantly at his butler before his heavy golden gaze shifts to you. Instantly, you’re feeling warm all over—embarrassed beyond belief to be seen by Diavolo in such a lewd state.

Your little fling in the bath with him is one thing, but being hoisted mid-air, legs spread wide, with nowhere to hide yourself is another.

“Diav—”

“Impeccable work, as always, Barbatos,” Diavolo interrupts you. He steps into the center of the room, reaching forward to grip the strands of rope parting your breasts. He gives the harness an appreciative tug, eliciting a gasp from you. His eyes sparkle at the sound.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“I see you were a little zealous today,” he continues, eyes falling to your used pussy. Your breath catches—gaze widening in surprise as Diavolo drags his finger through a stripe of Barbatos’ cum. Behind the Prince, the butler dips his head.

“Y/N requested it of me. I would be a fool to have said no.”

“Indeed,” Diavolo chuckles, his attention never leaving you. His large hands roam across your legs—skimming over the rope where it digs into the soft flesh of your thighs. There’s an appreciative glint in his gaze as he surveys your body—beautiful and helpless thanks to Barbatos’ rope work.

“You know, Y/N,” he begins after a minute, his fingertips trailing up the length of your arms, and making you shiver. He leans down to your eye level, smiling at you handsomely. “I was a little worried, following the incident with the aphrodisiac, that perhaps I had overstepped my boundaries. However, following recent events, I’m wondering if it’s not that a line was crossed, but perhaps that it’s me you’re not interested in.”

You shift your gaze to Barbatos, wondering if he had told Diavolo the outcome of the massage he’d given you a few weeks prior, but his face reveals nothing. He’s back to being the perfect butler in the presence of his Lord.

 “Lord Diavolo, t-that’s—,” you swallow the lump in your throat, arousal flaring in your gut when Diavolo presses a finger beneath your chin, turning your attention back to him. “That’s not it at all. I promise.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow, waiting for you to explain. You take a shaky breath, muscles flexing beneath the bindings as your post-orgasm high begins to fade, making the bite of the rope more obvious.

“I…have wanted you—to have you, ever since that night. I just…didn’t have the guts to inquire about the possibility…I was hoping maybe you would approach me instead, and when it didn’t happen, I assumed the window of opportunity had closed.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he moves his hands to cup your cheeks, gently skimming his thumb across the warm flesh. “You are more than welcome to ask anything of me.”

“I want you, then. Now,” you breath, a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your belly as you stare at him. Your words have his golden eyes darkening with hunger.

The months worth of unspoken desire fills the space between your bodies--igniting a flame in Diavolo’s blood.

“Say it again,” he commands. You strain against the bindings, wishing you could touch him.

“I want you, Lord Diavolo. Please fuck me.”

In the next beat, Diavolo is on your lips. He licks into your mouth, swallowing all of your needy little whines and moans. One of his hands moves to tangle in your hair—trapping your lips against his own—while the other finds purchase on your breast.

He slips a finger beneath the lace cup, and tugs it down without hesitation—freeing the previously covered mound. You gasp around his tongue, thighs flexing. You can feel arousal beginning to dribble down your cunt, pussy once again aching to be used and filled.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo rumbles, finally pulling back to give you air. The butler appears at the edge of your vision as you struggle to breathe. He places a hand over his heart.

“Adjust the height of the suspension, and then come here. It’s not fair of me to make you watch. Come and join.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Barbatos disappears from your field of vision, and a few moments later, you squirm as you feel yourself being hoisted higher into the air. The sensation stops when your pussy is at the same height as Diavolo’s growing bulge.

“I can’t be mad at the two of you for enjoying yourselves without me, when it acts as such good preparation,” Diavolo chuckles, two of his fingers slipping between your glistening folds. They push into your heat with little resistance, so the Prince adds a third. You feel a stretch, but it’s far from painful—a quiet moan sneaking past your lips.

He watches you with arousal swimming in his golden irises.

Leaning in to lap against the unmarred skin of your neck, Diavolo pumps his fingers in and out of you. Wet sounds fill the room along with your breathy whines, and the minute Barbatos steps up behind you—moving his hands to fondle your breasts—you let go of any remaining decency.

You throw your head back, body shaking as the two pleasure you. Groans fall from your lips, hips bucking against Diavolo’s hand. You crave him, desperate to feel your pussy stretched around his monstrous cock.

“Please,” you beg, barely able to get the word out. Diavolo shushes you with a hot breath against your neck—canines nipping at your flesh.

“Be patient,” he tells you. “One more.”

He momentarily removes his fingers from inside you before pushing back in—a fourth joining the others this time. The sensation steals your breath away—body thrashing against the bindings. You’re so stupidly horny that you don’t even care if it hurts. You need Diavolo inside of you.

“You must trust Lord Diavolo, Y/N,” Barbatos pipes up. You can feel his breath on your ear—his mouth moving to rest on the side of your neck that Diavolo isn’t currently assaulting with his lips, teeth and tongue. To accentuate his words, he rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers. Your pussy clenches around the Demon Prince’s digits.

“He’s only doing this so not to hurt you.”

“I know, but—,” Diavolo cuts off your whining with a rough bite against the junction of your shoulder. You gasp at the pain, writhing, and once more he’s rewarded with your pussy gripping his fingers so deliciously. The Demon Prince’s cock throbs at the sensation, craving to be inside of you, but he knows he can’t take you as easily as others might. The last thing he wants is to break you.

…as fun as that idea may be.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises you, tongue lapping over the indentation of his teeth. A bit of blood pools in the shallow divots—the tangy red liquid making him groan deep within his chest. He pumps his fingers in and out of you for what feels like ages, continuing until there’s no resistance.

Then, finally, his digits leave you with an embarrassing squelch. You mourn the loss with a needy whine, eyes peeling open to stare at him. However, when you see Diavolo messing with his slacks—his cock springing free and standing tall against his abdomen just as you had remembered it—your protest ceases.

Instead, you’re left swallowing the saliva that pools in your mouth—cunt throbbing as Diavolo presses himself back between your legs. Barbatos is by no means small with regard to dick size, but Diavolo makes taking the butler seem like child’s play.

“Remember to breathe,” The Prince tells you, tracing his length between your folds. The head of his cock pushes against your entrance, and despite his warning, you feel your breath catch. Even four fingers are barely enough to prepare you to take him.

“Breathe,” Barbatos whispers against your neck, his hands moving to settle just beneath your breasts. He gives you a reassuring squeeze, and you finally suck in a shaky breath of air. Diavolo allows you a moment to ground yourself before he moves once more—managing to fully slide the head of his dick in, along with a few inches of shaft.

You see stars.

“Fuck!” your entire body shakes, pain and arousal mingling in a dangerous combination. Your chest heaves, knuckles turning white with how tightly you’re gripping the rope binding your wrists. And yet, you can’t take your eyes off the sight of Diavolo’s cock, and the way it disappears inside of you. You don’t dare look away.

Hands gripping your waist, Diavolo takes a deep breath in through his nose, and then cants his hips forward. The rest of his length stuffs inside of you—stomach bulging ever so slightly from his girth—and your mind goes white.

Hot tears stream down your cheeks.

For a frightening second, Diavolo worries that he has injured you.

“Y/N—”

“Please please please please move!” you cry, chest heaving. You struggle against the bindings, breaking off into a desperate sob. The Demon Prince and his butler share a surprised look. Then, Diavolo is grinning, ever so slowly rocking his hips into you. Each movement assaults you with a new wave of pleasure.

“You didn’t tell me that she gets like this,” Diavolo remarks, glancing to his long-time friend. Barbatos shakes his head, his hands once more settling on your breasts. When the butler flicks his thumbs against your nipples, a muscle clenches in Diavolo’s jaw—your pussy constricting around him.

“I had no idea it was possible,” Barbatos responds, but you don’t hear their conversation. You can’t tear your gaze from the spot where Diavolo’s cock vanishes between your walls. You’ve never been so full before—so stretched--right at your breaking point.

It feels so good.

“Y/N,” Diavolo speaks your name tenderly, drawing you from your state of desperation. Your blown-out eyes turn up to him. He cups your cheek, brushing over the damp tear tracks on your skin. “What are your safe words?”

“S…Stoplight colors,” you tell him, and he nods. Leaning in, he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Use them if you need to.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Feeling better about your safety, Diavolo once more grips your waist, and begins fucking into your pussy with quick, smooth strokes. Each drag of his cock inside of you has you moaning—arousal rapidly building in the pit of your stomach. A part of you hopes that you’ll last long enough to cum with the Demon Prince, but when Barbatos settles his mouth against your neck—sucking at a particularly sensitive patch of flesh—you reach your climax without warning.

A cry tears from your throat. Your body spasms, pussy milking around Diavolo’s cock and hugging him so firmly that he actually snarls at the sensation. However, he doesn’t bother reprimanding you for the unprompted orgasm. No, instead he waits just long enough to allow the height of your pleasure to subside, before he begins snapping his hips into you with abandon.

Your lips part in a silent scream, Diavolo fucking you hard enough to make your tits bounce despite the upright position. As you struggle to maintain any sense of coherency, Barbatos hugs you tightly from behind, whispering quiet praises against your skin. It’s truly the only thing keeping you ground, at the moment.

“I can feel you getting tight again,” Diavolo remarks, the slightest growl in his voice, even as he chuckles. “Are you going to cum with me, Y/N?”

You shake your head violently. “I-I can’t. I can’t.”

You’re convinced that another orgasm will kill you.

Diavolo glances past your shoulder, to Barbatos. The butler nods his head. Without speaking a word, Barbatos knows his Lord’s request.

Pressing an apologetic kiss to your shoulder, Barbatos lowers one of his hands between your spread legs. Two of his fingers find your clit, and you choke down a sob. You desperately attempt to convince the royals that you’re unable to cum a third time, but the way your walls continue to contract around Diavolo’s cock says otherwise.

“Cum with me, and then you can rest,” Diavolo speaks, leaning in to capture your lips. He can taste your salty tears through the kiss.

“P-please,” you struggle to breathe, blurry eyes settling on the Demon Prince as he sits back—snapping his cock inside of you particularly hard. “Please.”

“Please what?” Diavolo asks, golden eyes soaking in the sight of you absolutely falling apart for him.

“Please…,” you repeat, voice trailing off. You’ve been so adamant about your inability to orgasm again, but now—with Diavolo thrusting into you, and Barbatos’ fingers working at your clit—you’re once again on the edge of release. You sob, the sound broken.

“Please let me cum.”

Diavolo grins handsomely.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

And you’re helpless to obey, your body spasming as your third and final orgasm of the night tears through you. Your chest heaves—struggling to take in air as Diavolo fucks you through your pleasure—chasing his own bliss.

Thankfully, he comes only a few seconds behind you—seating his length fully inside of you, and stuffing you to the brim as he spills his seed between your sopping walls. The sound of ragged breathing fills the room.

You fade out of consciousness for a moment.

“You did so well, taking Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos whispers into your hair, bringing you back into reality. He presses a soft kiss to your head. You whimper at his words, exhausted, and craving more praise and comfort.

Knowing that you need to be released from the suspension, Diavolo finally pulls his softening cock from inside of you. Immediately, his cum is slipping from your used heat—dripping down your pussy, and even onto the floor at your feet.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo speaks, taking a step back. The butler nods, swiftly moving to unravel the spool of rope secured above the mantle. Soon, you find yourself on the floor, both Diavolo and Barbatos working to undo the many intricate knots and ties.

It takes a few minutes—you whining and begging for affection the entire time—but finally the two free you from your bindings. As you move your limbs around, you can feel blood rushing back into certain areas of your body.

You’re definitely going to be sore tomorrow. For many reasons.

“You did beautifully,” Diavolo whispers as he scoops you into his arms. He moves to settle on the couch, cradling you in his lap. He brushes a few stray hands of hair out of your face, smiling when you reach up and cup his cheeks—tugging him into a kiss.

“I’m seeing many new sides of you today,” he remarks with a chuckle. You lean back, tiredly pouting at him.

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been fully tied up, suspended, and fucked by both a Demon Prince, and his butler, so.”

“That would explain it.”

He grins wider, a fond look in his eyes as he dips down to press a kiss to your forehead. As he does so Barbatos kneels at your side. There’s a pleasant smile on his face, his now-gloved hands gingerly trailing against your legs—dipping into the shallow marks left by the rope.

“How are you feeling?” he questions. His voice is tender, full of concern.

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sore, and tired, but…I feel good.” You extend your arm—fingertips trailing against his jaw. Barbatos leans into the feeling, cupping your hand with his own. “Thank you both for taking such good care of me. Even though you may have exerted yourselves more, rather than relaxing tonight, like I was hoping you would do…”

“I can’t speak for Barbatos, but personally, I feel much better now,” Diavolo pipes up. The butler nods in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“Yes, I agree. I feel quite relaxed.”

You roll your eyes at them, breathing a laugh.

“If you say so.”

The royals share a laugh as well.

“You need to rehydrate. Shall I fetch us some beverages?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Barbatos. It’s unfortunate we’re out of tea.”

The butler presses to his feet, bowing minutely. “It is. I will be sure to restock the pantry soon.”

He turns, heading towards the door, but your voice stops him.

“Wait--,” you speak, noting a clock on the wall nearby. It’s already past 11. “—It’s getting late. I don’t want to take more of your time. I know you still have a busy schedule tomorrow.”

“I would think that Lucifer and his brothers will be concerned, should you return home in your current state,” Barbatos comments, and you pause, glancing down at yourself. You’re covered in rope markings all over your body, not to mention the hickies and bite marks now littering your neck. On top of that, you’re still not even sure if you can properly move on your own, let alone walk.

“I…”

“I was going to ask you to stay with us,” Diavolo pipes up, smiling at you. “If you don’t mind sharing the bed, I’d prefer to have you close tonight.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, but you can’t deny how appealing it sounds—spending the night in Diavolo’s arms. Especially considering how he’d just ruined you.

“Okay,” you concede.

“Good!”

You gasp as Diavolo presses to his feet, still securely holding you in his arms. “In that case, please bring the beverages to my chambers, Barbatos.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The butler then disappears from the room. Diavolo follows him out, but not before tossing a handily available blanket atop your naked form. Your grip at the soft fabric, pouting as you watch your cute dress get left behind on the messy, rope covered floor.

“My dress…”

“Barbatos will likely return and clean up before the night ends. I’m sure it will be returned to you by morning,” Diavolo reassures you. You curl your hand into the dark fabric of his shirt, glancing up at him.

“That’s still more work for him…”

“You need to stop worrying about us,” he scolds you, giving you a light squeeze. You knock your forehead against his chest.

“It’s hard. I want you both to stop being so busy.”

“Soon,” he reassures you with a chuckle, and you feel his lips press into the crown of your hair. “Then we’ll go back to having Sunday tea.”

Perfect.

That night, you pass out tucked against Diavolo’s broad chest, before Barbatos ever appears with the drinks. At some point, a wet cloth drags between your legs, and a straw is placed between your lips, but you’re too exhausted to remember anything more than that. All you know is that when you wake up the next morning, Diavolo is gone, your bladder is full, and there’s a note on the nightstand addressed to you.

It’s Barbatos’ handwriting.

Y/N,

Lord Diavolo would like to apologize for being unable to keep you company this morning. We promise to make it up to you at a later time.

Your dress, along with vitamins, and other health supplements that will help you should you be ailing from the excitement of last night, are at the foot of the bed.

Blinking, you look down and realize that indeed your dress is folded neatly at your feet--a small gift bag beside it. But there’s no way you’ll need such medicine, right?

Slowly, you press to your feet, and immediately groan. Yep, everything is sore. You’ve never felt so achy all over.

Lucifer is here for a meeting. He will walk you home at 9am, once it is finished. Please meet him at the front doors.

If there’s anything else you need, please let myself, or Lord Diavolo know.

- Barbatos

You note that your DDD has been conveniently placed on the nightstand beside the note.

Clicking the phone screen to life—you pause.

It’s already 8:50.

“Shit!”

You rush to prepare yourself—dressing haphazardly, and running through the halls of the castle in order to meet Lucifer on time. You arrive at the front doors to find him waiting for you. He cocks an eyebrow, gaze falling to your current outfit. You’re adorning the dress you’d worn the day before, but beneath it, you’re also wearing a white turtleneck.

How curious.

“…did you enjoy your stay?”

There’s an amused look on his face—one that tells you he won’t be fooled by whatever excuse you decide to try and come up with. So, you settle for giving him an honest response.

“I did.”

And you can’t wait until your next one.

[yandere-society]

Moonlight

Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader

Synopsis: Taehyung was a man of many things: handsome, young, rich, the reigning lord of the Kim manor. He was a man adored, a man respected. But beneath the studly exterior, he held a dark, demonic secret that floated towards the surface once every full moon. It was this secret that would unknowingly entangle you in his claws until there was no way out.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Yandere themes, Possessive Tae, Werewolves, Kidnapping mention, Sexual assault, Murder, Death, also it’s unedited cause I hate myself

Headline: Beast Of The Night Strikes Again! 2 Dead, Several Injured

Admin: @roses-ruby​

_

The town suffers through another full moon of terror as the one described as the ‘dog beast’ struck again late last night. Lawmen are baffled at the carnage, describing the victims torn limbs and missing hearts as an act- “most definitely inhumane.” Townsfolk have stated that they heard the creature growl and moan for hours on end until it seemingly disappeared near the Kim manor. As for the owner of the manor, Kim Taehyung - an attractive bachelor who inherited his great grandfather’s land - refused to comment and dismissed the claims of such a being as “ludicrous and delusional.” Whatsoever it may be, the fact of the matter is that there is someone or something raging with bloodlust every time the moon shines its brightest and it might just be out for your heart next.

“It is truly incredible how some of the most credible news sources have begun to sound so half-witted these days… ‘attractive bachelor?’ Seems like you’re up for auction in the middle of this tragic incident…”

“It is a small town with unusually large tales…they’ll do anything to sell their trashy story…” He runs his fingers through his long black locks, a small huff of irritation leaving his lips.

“A story that will keep children up past midnight I’m sure…” The older gentleman places today’s paper back on the table and walks up to where the younger stood, matching his distant stare out the window. “The flowers were exceptionally beautiful in this year’s bloom. Such a shame they’ll be dead soon.”

It was a passive observation, one he didn’t have to respond to; however, it was his nature to always hold a firm stance on even the slightest of interactions. He hums in agreement, gazing out towards the colorfully green garden that his study overlooked. But rather than admiring the beauty of the large field, his eyes were instead hooked on a small figure bustling about the grounds in a long black dress.

“Master,” A calm voice interrupted him from his trance, “Shall I adjust your schedule in case you were to head into town today?”

His long-time butler, Seung, bowed quietly in his direction.

“No need.” He replies mindlessly.

“Now, now,” His uncle next him chuckled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening, “It would do you good to show your handsome bust among the public. Your presence as Lord might provide some comfort…”

As if he should be the one comforting weeping mothers and terrified children.

He was about to decline the smiling face of this man who bore him nothing but animosity, but he was interrupted by his uncle’s careless gaze suddenly modifying into something additionally sinister.

“Or is it that you’re too tired for such a simple task? You look as if you have not slept in ages. Are you doing alright, perhaps?”

Other than the shiver that ran down Taehyung’s spine at his foxiness, he was unfazed by the weighty question. Usually, his feigned concern would make him chuckle, if he wasn’t so emotionally exhausted from last night’s events.

“I’m fine.” He turns to Seung without missing a beat, “Uncle is right. Get the carriage ready, I will be heading into town today.”

“Yes, Master.” Seung bows, but before he could quietly leave the room, Taehyung calls for him again. “And get my Uncle’s carriage ready for departure as well. I am sure at his age he would love nothing more than to be resting at home this very moment.”

There was a small confrontational silence between the senior and him after his loaded remark. But it vanished the very next second when his Uncle began to chuckle loudly, as if there was nothing but mirth between the two of them.

“You are right on the mark, young lad. As sharp as ever I see.” He spins around, walking back to the table he once sat at “I shall be out of your hair soon.”

Taehyung watches him as he picks up the paper he had been scrutinizing before he commences his departure from the chamber.

“Are you perhaps interested in the dog beast?”

“Why, not at all,” He responds calmly, turning to the younger with the same somber expression as before, “I just need some entertainment for the road. Surely, you don’t mind?”

He did not. For now, he desired his uncle’s departure the most. It was not as if he could see his own forthcoming demise stained in the ink of that paper.

Autumn’s cool breeze surrounds your body as you tend to the large grounds of the Kim manor, trimming off uneven stems from a massive rose bush.

“___,” A frantic voice suddenly calls your name, capturing your attention as your gaze falls down onto a petite figure dressed in a similar maid’s uniform running towards you, “___! Did you hear?”

“About?”

“Today’s paper!” Seulgi spoke out of breath, like it was the most obvious thing, “Those men…aren’t they the same lads who-”

“SSHHH!” You hiss, blocking her loudmouth with your palm. Her whines against your hand were similar to that of an adolescent as you whirled your head around the garden, making sure no one was near your vicinity. “I told you not to speak a word of that!”

Seulgi successfully tugs you off of her, “I know! But is it not bizarre? That beast attacked those men!”

“There is no beast!” You growled, “Everyone in town was aware that Wan and his men were good-for-nothing hooligans! They probably wandered into the forest late at night, drunk and belligerent, and attracted a bear!”

“Hmm, perhaps…” Seulgi pouts, “But what about the articles? All those farmers who lost their cattle the same exact way… with their hearts missin-”

“I’m sure those are nothing but carnivorous rodents.” You huff in irritation, picking up the sheers to return to your work. The girl besides you threw a tantrum using her feet, and you wonder when exactly it was that you befriended such a child. “Are you even done with your station or will I have to do that for you again after the Housekeeper is done scolding you?”

This manages to scare her off, and you watch her retreating figure in slight humor before turning back to the rosebush. As you snap another set of leaves, you manage to take a glance at the window of the lord’s study, apprehensively watching his back disappear further into his room.

All you’ve wanted from this manor and its lords was a chance to toil quietly – in peace. Your simple servant status does not offend you, rather it provides you security in relations with the world. You were not interested in meddling with anyone’s affair, especially with those who lived in powerful and dangerous realities. So, it does not matter.

What you saw last night, near the clearing behind the manor does not matter. It had nothing to do with you, and you were planning on keeping it that way.

_

Lord Kim was annoyed.

Really though, when was he not? As the carriage decelerates into the gates of his estate, his exhaustion only multiplies. Faking a straight face and an empty gaze took its toll on him, even if he had been playing theater his whole life. It was hard enough to keep up with this perfect charade as the lord of the manor, but it had just gotten worse with time…and with the incidents.

He was reluctant to head into town, leer over dismembered bodies and chat with the commissioner, but did so anyway thanks to his uncle’s instigation. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice - any sign of weakness would invite his extended family to sink their teeth and claws into him, wringing him dry within a matter of minutes. His father died too early and Taehyung did not bear a successor yet, so whoever would be the first to either exhaust, kill or seduce him would eventually take his place as lord. After being unfortunate enough to witness countless amounts of cruelty from them since age eight, he knew he had to keep his farce strong.

Common folk would think he was protecting his blessed birthright. But in a deep, hidden corner of his mind, the reality loomed that neither this life nor this manor was blessed in the slightest.

“We’re home, my lord.” His thoughts are interrupted as the carriage stops, the door opening to reveal a flawlessly still Seung waiting for him to disembark.

As he exited his carriage, his shoulders drooping and head spinning, his eyes managed to fall on you in the distance. You stood far away, underneath the stone canopy of the servant’s quarters, next to that bumbling friend of yours with your head bowed as the housekeeper shouted herself silly at the both you. It seems that you have once again found trouble thanks to the petite nitwit by your side.

Yet still, even with your gaze downcast, he could sense the poise in your stance. An aura of composure and self-confidence that has never left your being no matter where you stood, or who stood over you. At first, he just happened to relate to you and the notion of keeping together a tough act. But over time, he came to realize that you weren’t acting at all – that you, a mere servant, were as perfectly assured as you seemed.

It made him envious.

“Master?” Seung pulled him back to reality.

He turned away, scuffing his expensive shoes amongst the gravel to head into the direction of his manor. Yet still, after the small sight of you, he couldn’t help but smile to himself for the first time that night.

“Dinner is served.”

A tray was lifted to reveal a large pot of thick, saucy white soup. He had wanted something light ever since the previous night, and the chef had delivered quite nicely. Taehyung sits patiently, waiting to be served as the maidservants walk into the room with the housekeeper. His eyes immediately land on you out if habit, and he wonders if you were to tend to him tonight. But to his surprise, it’s your friend who comes up to the table to oblige him his dinner instead. She takes a ladle and dips it into the soup – just a minute, she forgot to pick up his soup bowl?

Realizing she forgot the bowl; she looks startled for a bit before she hovers a hand underneath the ladle and walks closer to his direction. He has to try really hard not to burst out into a fit of laughter as he witnesses you shake in fear at her antics. Seems like he was not the only one distracted because the very next second your friend trips over her own foot on the way to his bowl and loses her grip on the soup-filled ladle, which flies towards him.

And in an instant, his whole head was wet and runny with his dinner. It was quiet for the first minute – which appeared to have stretched out into hours for the servants – until many different voices began shouting at once.

“Y-young Master! T-Towel- I shall fetch a towel!”

“MY LORD!”

“My lord! I-I-I apologize I-!”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Your face was stiff in horror as you watched the creamy soup drip off his hair. Seung ran back into the room with a towel in his arm as the housekeeper bellowed at your friend.

Before Seung could wipe his hair, Taehyung held his wrist and took the towel into his own hands. Then he stood up, surprising the whole room, even the shrieking housekeeper, shut. He lightly wiped the edges of his bangs for a minute in silence, feeling the wet soup drool into his shirt before he turned towards your friend.

“Well, what a mess…” He stated absentmindedly, watching the girl shrink under his gaze until she became as small as a pebble. She seemed to be trying her utter best not to cry.

“Lord…” A soft, but confident voice interrupted the dead silence of the room. You stepped up next to your friend, your head down as you cleared your throat, “It…It is my fault actually…”

Your friend turns to you in shock. Everyone in the room was now glancing at you; the servants with petrified eyes and Taehyung with amused ones.

“Explain yourself.”

“Th-that…I spoke about the dog beast who was in today’s paper to miss Kang and…and I seem to have frightened her which is why she’s been a bit distracted…b-but it is my fault, so I deserve the punishment.”

“N-no!” You friend suddenly cries in a strained voice and you elbow her to keep shut. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish, before complying to your implication with her eyes squeezed shut tight. The servants all held their breath, waiting for the lord’s next move. They all seem to flinch when he sighs,

“…I see…” Taehyung holds in a chuckle, “You’re right miss ___, this indeed seems to be your fault…”

Seulgi quietly whines in her throat and you wish she could for once read your mind and jam her loud trap.

“…Well then,” Taehyung’s deep voice captures your full attention, “Meet me in my room an hour before midnight. I shall decide on your punishment by then.”

No one said anything further, but they all seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing. Even Seung appeared disturbed. But…it just couldn’t be… The lord has never even taken an interest in women much less bed with one. You, too astonished to remember your place, straightened your posture and stared at him straight in the eye for the very first time. There wasn’t any hint of jest or error, which left you further baffled at the Lord’s request.

No, perhaps it was just you who misunderstood.

“Y-yes Lord.” You manage to spit out.

At your approval the lord smiles, which startles you out of your insolence. You return to your humble position as the Lord begins to walk away from the room.

“Seung, prepare my bath.” Taehyung calls out in glee.

“…Yes, master…”

_

You sigh, standing in front of the thick wooden door of your Lord’s master chamber.

“Well, there goes the goal of keeping from trouble…” You whisper to yourself in defeat. And thanks to that gigantic fool Seulgi, you were late to your own punishment trial. She would not stop crying and apologizing, even though you told her it was now your problem, so she has nothing to be sorry about.

Still, the main dilemma for you in this moment was not her, but your current circumstances. Why were you called out to the Lord’s chamber an hour before midnight? The sensitive time frame would provide anyone the wrong impression, not just you. If he really were to ask you to…bed with him…what then?

You quickly shake your head no. It was not healthy for you to have such thoughts about your Lord. Since adolescence, you had been a reasonable girl who was guided by logic. There was no rationality in this idea and you’re sure Lord Kim had a good excuse for calling you out so late – an excuse that has nothing to do with...whatever you were just thinking. After pulling yourself together with a deep breath, you knock on the wood three times.

“Come in.” You immediately hear, which allows you to nervously turn the handle and push open the door.

There stood Lord Kim, by the end of the bed, in his sleepwear. His hair was a mess of slight, drooping curls, possibly the aftermath of his bath, and his stare was a lot more lax than normal. You gulped quietly under his gaze, stepping into the room and letting the door shut behind you.

“You’re late, miss ___.” His voice was deep, but soft. It felt as if he was trying to jester you.

“I-I apologize, my Lord. I was held up by the housekeeper…”

It was a lie and you did feel guilty, but it would also be immensely satisfying to witness that old witch being chided.

“My, my, it seems like she is always after you and that friend of yours,” You could hear what sounded like mischief in his tone, “Which reminds me, she came to speak to me.”

“The housekeeper?”

“No, your friend. She told me you lied for her.”

That was the last straw. You were going to kill that idiot.

“I…I…S…” What were you to say now? Should you apologize for your dishonesty?

“I think it’s commendable.” You were interrupted from your thoughts by your Lord’s words. When you meet his eyes, you see him smiling gently in your direction. “You tried to protect your friend. It takes a good heart for that.”

“Thank you, sire…” You weren’t sure how to adequately respond - if he really was complimenting you. Your uncertainty stemmed from your upbringing; rather than a trait to compensate, behaving and caring for your younger siblings was regarded as your duty. It was also why maid work came so easily to you. And Seulgi, with her childish nature yet endearing personality, reminded you of those you tended to back home, so you considered looking after her a mere responsibility.

“I do like that nature of yours.” He proceeds casually, making you blush. “But I still have to punish you for your dishonesty.”

You nod your head, eyes falling to the floor. Even without gaping at him, you were aware of how strong his gaze was. It was only natural to get disciplined as a servant, but for it to come from Lord Kim himself made you fearful.

“Miss ___, sleep with me.”

Your head whirls up to meet his stare, shock painting your face.

“W-”

“Please don’t misunderstand me.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Although you’re quite beautiful, I only desire your lap.”

…

What?

“I-” Your Lord stutters, facing away from you and crossing arms in embarrassment, “I just…these days I have been having some trouble sleeping. Many peers have remarked on my dark circles and laxing attitude. This won’t do! As the Lord of the Kim manor, I have to appear fully rested and in the best condition at all times or else.”

He turns back to your direction,

“W…when I was a young lad…I would sleep on my mother’s lap. It was the most comforting of places to me and sleep was never a cause for concern back then. Which is why…I wanted to seek that same comfort once more…so that I may be able to rest heartedly and prepare myself to face the world of politics tomorrow. I just…I was wondering if I could borrow your lap for a few nights?”

It was quiet after his explanation. Your mind gradually processing all the information in his tale. He appeared to be immensely nervous, as if waiting for you to decline. You had to hide your amusement.

“I am ready for my punishment, my Lord.”

The young Lord smiles, which has your heart racing. Surely, he was a beautiful man.

“Thank you. Please sit on the bed, near my headboard.” He orders bashfully.

_

You swung another sheet over the clothing line.

Days had passed since your initial ‘punishment,’ and today would mark the first whole month of you lending your lap to your Lord. Your nightly time with the Lord had become an occurrence you cherished. There was so much you managed to learn about the man who rested on you – like how he scrunches his nose when he encounters a nightmare or how he moans only when he is in his deepest of slumbers. He was different than how you originally imagined; his cold exterior was nothing but a farce. In reality, he was so childlike and so innocent.

So different from other men.

Yes, that’s right, he was nothing like Wan. Remembering that scoundrel had you shivering in your legs from disgust. You usually didn’t have the most pleasant encounters with the men in town, but Wan had been a special case. Although you did not wish to think ill of the dead, there was nothing ever good about that man, and frankly you’re not very upset that he’s gone.

You remember the day much too clearly; it was a week before he would meet his demise. The housekeeper had sent you and Seulgi into town on a shopping errand – she wanted you to pick up meat and vegetables for dinner. It wouldn’t be the first time you went into town for a chore, but it would certainly be the most unpleasant.

As you and Seulgi stepped out of the farmer’s store carrying a load of groceries in a paper bag you held with both arms, you spotted Wan and his friends walking towards you from the opposite direction. They were cackling loudly, drunk in the middle of the day and out of their minds. You paid them no attention, ready to head back to the manor but your unwitty friend stared straight at them until Wan eventually made eye contact with her.

“Well, well, well,” He slurred in your direction, catching your gaze, “If it isn’t the whores of Kim manor!”

Because of his brash nature, everyone’s regard fell on the two of you. You tried to look unfazed by his disgusting behavior, taking Seulgi by the hand and leading her around the men. But Wan interjected your path as his friends laughed on.

“We need to get back. Leave us alone.” You stated calmly

“Why, we won’t keep you for long,” He grinned, and you recoiled from the alcohol in his breath, “Besides, they won’t miss you- them rich folk. Isn’t that right, fellas?”

His friends began to shout and woo, enclosing in on you almost completely, and you could feel Seulgi shaking behind you.

“We need…to get back.” You say once again, cursing at yourself when your voice cracks. Wan throws his head back and laughs as hard as he could while the townsfolk just observe the show. Anger begins to well up alongside the fear and you purse your lips, picking up your feet and tugging Seulgi along.

It didn’t matter if you had to bulldoze through him, you were going to get back to Kim manor no matter what. So you step close, ready to collide into him before he suddenly sidesteps. Thinking he was distracted; you weren’t prepared for his swift movement and you certainly weren’t prepared to feel a hard thwack on your backside. A breath of surprise leaves your throat and the feeling in your arms disappear, which lets the paper bag fall out of your grasp, spilling its contents along the street. You stare at the ground, paralyzed by shock as Seulgi meekly cries out your name.

“Wan, you mad lad!” Someone from his group yells, clasping their hand into his in jest while they all express their amusement at your humiliation. The group aggressively howls, making perverse remarks before eventually continuing down the road, fully disregarding your presence. They left, without any consequences. As if they didn’t just horribly disgrace you.

“___...” Seulgi steps up to your side, crying her eyes out in worry. If this was another time you would console her – scold her for being a crybaby – but at the moment you could think of nothing. You had been a maidservant for almost a decade now and even then, you had never been treated so awfully. What’s worse is that they all saw…they all saw and said nothing.

Not wanting to waste a minute further, you fall to your knees and start gathering the vegetables that fell about. Seulgi calls your name again but you focus on your task. You have to stay composed, you have to stay composed – you repeat it to yourself like mantra. But that sensation of emptiness returns, and you freeze. Before you knew it, you were trembling on the floor with tears streaming down your face and everyone still watched on.

“___.” Seulgi wrapped herself around you tightly. For a moment your fortitude was shattered as you cried in her arms on that dirty street.

Wan was most definitely scum, you conclude with a huff as you finish straightening the laundered bedsheet. But still, you halt, dying the way he did…it’s something you wouldn’t wish on anyone. Your mind wanders back to that paper, torn limbs and missing hearts. Could it possibly be related to what you saw that night on the previous full moon? With a frown, you stare up at the sky, watching the whiffs of white clouds swirl through the blue fabric.

“___!” You hear the familiar shouts of your name and turn to see Seulgi running towards you. “___, there you are!”

“What is it this time?” You sigh as she encloses in on you

“___, is it true that you are consummating with the Lord?”

Dropping the sheet out of your hands, you spin towards the loudmouthed idiot, “W-w-w-where did you hear that?”

“The other maidservants were whispering on it,” She replies with an innocent grin, “Is he as good as the rumors say?”

“A-a-a-as the w-what? What rumors- what- consummate- a-are you out of your mind?” You were blushing from head to toe.

Seulgi looks dejected at your response, “So it isn’t true?”

“Of course not!”

“Ohh,” She groans sullenly, “But I guess it would be impossible for a lord to take interest in maidservants like us.”

Your bashfulness vanishes in an instant. She was correct, there is absolutely no reason for you to find yourself special. Lord Kim had made it clear that he has no interest in you, he just requires a lap and is too proud to ask someone close. This was originally a punishment for you and nothing more – you shouldn’t become too attached.

“___?” Seulgi’s voice was low, “Are you alright? You seem down…”

“…I’m fine.” You mutter, composing yourself, “But more importantly…why are you here to ask me about baseless gossip? Are you done with your station? Remember you have to use the right tools- just scrubbing vigorously doesn’t work-”

“Oh my god- yes, yes, yes!” She responds by childishly covering her ears, “I have to use the coil sponge not the foam one, I get it!”

You begin to scold her as she laughs, prancing around the grass without a care. But soon the humor dies down and it was time to return to work. Before she leaves for her station, she makes a passive comment.

“Tonight’s another full moon. In the night of Samhain.” There was something dim about her tone as she gazes up towards the sky. You join her, wondering if she somehow had the same bad premonition as you did.

_

While you were chatting with your friend, Taehyung was having tea with a man he’d rather throw into a river.

“What brings you here?”

“My, do you sound cold.” His uncle chuckles, taking another sip of his tea, “Am I not allowed to visit my nephew out of fondness?”

“Well, after twenty-so years, consider me surprised.” Taehyung deadpans, which only further humors the elder.

“Perhaps I do have a motive.” He grins for a moment before all signs of amusement vanish from his expression. “I could not help but toil my mind over that paper from before. The townsfolk swore they heard the dog beast growl late into the night before fading behind Kim manor.”

“I thought we agreed the paper was nothing more than gossip fodder.”

“And perhaps that’s all it is.” His uncle’s smile was innocent but held such contempt. “However, as a gentleman who resides in the city, I find myself quite inclined by the mysteries of small towns such as this.”

“What nonsense,” Taehyung scoffs, “Are you saying you wish to investigate this supernatural rubbish the townsfolks gripe about?

“Indeed! The dog beast is nothing but rubbish!” The elder’s laughter was hearty, “But then, there is the question of who killed those men?”

The room was silent, drowning in the animosity the two men felt for one another. Neither one spoke – his Uncle because he had nothing more to say and Taehyung because he felt his throat clogging. He wanted to decline, desperate to splurge words of refusal, but then the fact that he had something to hide becomes too apparent.

“Surely, you won’t mind me staying? Just for one night?”

“Stay as you wish, uncle.”

You were already situated on his bed when your Lord swung the door open.

The sound made you jump, and you immediately rose to your feet to show respect. He began walking towards you in a fast, heavy pace with his feet striking the wood. His face had you unnerved – anger in his frown as well as what you could only describe as dismay in his eyes. Before you could open your mouth to react, you were taken into his arms in a sudden and swift motion.

It left your mind blank.

He squeezed himself onto you, his chest colliding with yours as his scent surrounded your senses. Your arms were hovering his back while your fingers curled into themselves, unsure of your position at the moment. Lord Kim hugged you tight, as if he was afraid.

“M-my Lo-”

“Tonight.” He interjected, muffling into neck as he laid his head on your shoulder, “Do not let me go tonight, whatever you do. Hold onto me as tight as you possibly can, do you hear me? Do not let me wander, I beg you.”

His tone broke your heart. He sounded so frightened – so desperate and you had no clue on how to help him. The Lord has always been the strength of this household. No one had ever witnessed him so distressed, not even at the previous Lord’s funeral. Hesitantly, you placed your fingers against his vertebrate and sat back on the mattress, guiding him gently down with you.

“I won’t let you go, my Lord.” You didn’t know what else to say.

He placed his head on your lap, arms still clinging onto you like a child. His mind seemed to be in the middle of a warzone against himself. The memory of a young man sitting in front of his father’s casket, immobile and silent as a rock, was still so vivid to you. You had only been at Kim Manor for a few months back then, and you remember being disturbed by his attitude – wondering if he had any feelings at all. But after learning about how often his extended family plotted against him, to the point of kidnapping him as an eight-year-old, you began to view that tearless boy with pity.

Watching him tremble in your lap has you reaching out to him. Your digits tread into his soft hair and you slowly move them about to calm his tremors. He seems to respond; his quivers coming to a slight halt at your touch.

You don’t know for how long you rubbed his head, listening to him breath.

You don’t know when you fell asleep.

_

His whole body was aching as he walked towards the grass, trying to ease the sharp pain in his head.

He had been taught that the best place to alter was out in an open, murky environment. Somewhere you could feel the air on your skin as the patches of hair slit through your pores like needles through fabric. Yet still, somewhere impenetrable through the naked eye. There was an area like so behind Kim manor – a clearing that was connected to a large acre of uninhabited woods. And among those acres laid several swamps and bogs, which formed a thick layer of fog around the grounds of the manor – most prominent on the night of the full moon.

It was the perfect place for him, who had been poisoned with this modification.

With his mind as cloudy as the fog, he thinks back to the first time he witnessed his father alter. He was far too young, a month away from ten, when he was brought out to this clearing and visually counseled on his dreadful future. More than anything he wanted to look away, he did not wish to see his beloved father become this monster, but Seung held his hand tight and told him to hold witness for his very own sake. And he witnessed – witnessed his father thrash about as if he wanted to claw his own brains out and he cried.

He cried along with his father. But there was never any other option for him than to tolerate the dread from his place as heir to Kim manor.

It was always painful, every moment his heart pumped blood into his body, he moaned in agony. While the night raged on, he noticed his panting grew deeper by the second – tone sinking to a gruff growl which rips through his chest. His eyes and sense of smell grew keener, large nails grotesquely rip through his skin and his teeth began to enlarge. The image of the moonlight basking on his skin was the only thing offering him refuge.

If he had a choice, he would have chosen to stay inside with the warm you, stare enchantedly at your resting face like the many instants he’s done before. But his changes weren’t just physical. In this state he was bigger, louder, hairier, teethier – more aggressive. His desire for blood was intense but ever since he met you, so was this raw lust. As a rational man with a sense of morals, this perverse craving ashamed him, yet the beast inside did not care for his customs. It wanted to possess you, every ounce of you, thoroughly. To mate with you in a way that wasn’t meant for humans. Being around you in this condition would break the mental leash he chains this deviant with.

Although every time he alters, he feels it loosening. There was something wrong with him – his father and grandfather were able to restrain the beast from rampaging throughout town. But he, on the other hand, had been consuming the town as his sole hunting grounds for some months now. Which is why the “dog beast,” once a mere legend mentioned every decade, was printed in previous months paper.  

It is as if the creature wishes to mock him and the slipping control.

Drenched in sweat and agony, he knew the transformation was almost complete when he suddenly heard a small noise. He immediately spun around and met the petrified eyes of his uncle.

Neither of the men spoke – both gaping at each other with pure, unfiltered fear. The chill of the night establishes its presence in the worst moment possible. Taehyung was afraid for reasons too many, none he could not lucidly list. He recalls what occurred the last time the beast was enraged by someone and he desperately wishes not to hurt anyone ever again in this form.  

Opposite from him stood his uncle, wondering just one thought out of an infinite. How does a normal man, one untouched by the knowledge of this being, react in this situation?

A normal man would run. A normal man would cower in fear. A normal man would beg for his life. But he, the rightful heir to the manor, declined to let this young bastard trample him in such a way. It wasn’t that his uncle was a man without fear. And it wasn’t that he held great courage either, but rather, the very oxygen that burned through him was fueled purely by his stubbornness. He has spent the majority of his life trying to crush first his brother and now his nephew, so when this chance has presented itself so deliciously, he refuses to let it slip through his fingers.

“Y…” His voice was hoarse, throat achingly dry, “What are you?”

Taehyung stands there quietly, unresponsive to the question. Although he was the larger one, he felt so scared and so small. No one had ever spoken to him in this form which is why he was unsure of what to do. He had been a fool, he thought if he could sleep in your arms and you held him tight, he would be able to stop himself from altering tonight.

But now he understood, there was nothing that could.

“You killed those men.” His uncle continues, all on his own. As if he’s suddenly reached enlightenment.

“You do not…understand…” Taehyung shakes his head like a child about to be punished. He didn’t mean to kill anyone. He’s never hurt someone in his whole life. That night, on the previous full moon, it all occurred without any of his own authority.

Taehyung was a despicable man. Wan had hurt you, and he saw it. But rather than step in and intervene – rather than protect you from that scum – he instead just stood by and watched it transpire. No matter how many times he thinks back to it, no matter how often he racks his brain for an answer, he still does not understand why he did nothing. Perhaps he was paralyzed from his own traumas and forced himself to retain his composure – however the beast did not care for his pathetic reasons. It taunted him the whole week leading up to the full moon. Hurt him with insults he knew he merited.

“You’re weak.” It growled, “Weak and puny. I shall protect her myself.”

And then, for the very first time, Taehyung took the life of another human being without any cognizance. What’s worse is that he enjoyed it. That thought alone petrifies him.

“No, I do not understand you. And I do not wish to.”

“Please…” Taehyung begged as he held out his deformed hand to plead with the elder. Did this man think Taehyung desired this life? Did he think he desired this hundred year old curse - originating from a place long before his time - that was forced upon him and on any man who dared to reign over Kim manor. Perhaps despicable, but Taehyung was still softhearted. The reason why he tried so hard to keep his title as Lord was so that no one else would further suffer this abomination, even if it concerned his bastard uncle. 

And it’s also the reason he made peace with dying alone, without a bride and without children. He was meant to stand alone. That is...until he met you.

“How dare you. How dare you grovel to me, you servant of the devil.” The disgust and venom in his uncle’s tone made him recoil.

“No-” It was only a matter of time before the beast consumed him whole and he was certain, like before, it would not spare any mercy. The adversity is something Taehyung direly yearns not to repeat.

“I shall bring the priest and the commissioner. I shall tell them what you did. You shall be brought to justice for what you did to those men. You shall suffer in hell when they burn you at the stake!”

“Please- uncle- please listen TO ME-” He clasped his claws against his mouth when his voice became utterly inhumane. The beast was crawling out of his throat and his sanity was slipping. No longer was he able to see what was in front of him and once again he began to fade, like he did all those times before.

“Run!”

Taehyung with the last of his conscious tried his hardest to warn the man and take a dash for the woods but it was far too late.

The last thing he heard was his uncle’s shrill scream, and then all silence for him.

_

You woke up to a thump.

Or at least you were certain that was what you heard as you sit up on the bed. Your vision was groggy, mind still half asleep as you look in the direction of the sound’s origin. For a minute it was soundless, and then there was another thump. You weren’t sure what it was, but you stood up nonetheless, slowly walking towards the door. Still unaware of your surroundings, you stop in front of the wood, distracted by your own dizziness.

In the tranquility of the room, you caught a noise so faint, you thought perhaps you were still in your nightmare from before. It was immensely faint, but you heard it. The rapid breathing behind the door. Unhurdled by emotions such as caution and reasoning for once, you swung the door open in confusion. And as soon as you did, your own awareness came back to you at full force.

A clothless man stood before you, covered from head to toe in blood and gore. Your breath was stuck in your throat, eyes widening into saucers once you saw the length of his fangs. It took you a full minute realize that it was Lord Kim.

“W…what…” You step back in horror. Perhaps you were still dreaming.

The fear had snuck up around your waist and grabbed you by the throat, leaving you without the ability to move. He gazed at you with eyes that were a bright yellow, yet darker than any man’s you have ever looked into. Your orbs travel down his body as you absorb in his abnormal height, his ripping muscles, his long fingernails and…and his hand.

There was a heart. In his hand, he gripped a fleshy and large organ and you knew it was a heart.

Missing hearts.

“Nooo…please.” You quiver, crying without him ever speaking a word. All signs of alarm were raised in your mind and you don’t even remember what it was for that you came here. Only Seulgi’s words about the dog beast reigned in your ear. The world was spinning as your Lord…as he began to walk towards you. Your life started to flash by your eyes, and you closed them shut tight, so you would no longer have to witness this terror.

“Shhh.” You heard a deep growl before you felt cold and abnormally large fingers on your face. A gasp escapes your throat as he caresses your cheek.

The next thing you knew, you were floating. Your eyes flew open and you saw yourself being carried by him. There was no moment for you to react, as you were subsequently placed upright onto the bed. No longer restrained by his arms, you shifted about in a frenzy.

“Ah…uh…”  

“You are mine.” He states as if it was a fact.

Then he comes over you – wrapping his enormous, dirtied limbs around you as you squeak. He lays his head in your lap and you feel the tears leave your eyes as he yet again resembles your Lord. What you had thought of as just a hallucination from the fog was actually reality. That night, on the previous full moon, you woke up and strolled the grounds to clear your head of Wan. It was then that you saw the most horrid of things – you saw a giant dog shrink into a small human who resembled the Lord.

And you had told yourself lies. Told yourself it wasn’t true and told yourself to forget. But all logic was failing you now as a creature from hell winds down on your very own body. You muffle your cries and fear – too afraid to awaken the beast.

Taehyung laid peacefully in your arms; his mind detached from every other thing that did not concern you. The heart he held in his hand had stopped beating a long time ago, but he could still feel it slipping through his fingers. He is not sure, even as a beast, as to why he takes the hearts of victims. Perhaps it has something to do with how it’s his heart that hurts more than anything else each time he alters.

Well, it did not matter now, he thinks as his perception starts to drift. Nothing mattered at the moment – not the heart, nor his uncle’s body, not even your reaction. For this moment, more than anything, he just wants to rest.

To sleep, in your lap, under this cold, beautiful moonlight.

________

A/N: Okay so I really hate this I apologize. I had intended for it to be longer but well :) October has officially been 2020′s busiest month for me...but I hope you enjoy this garbage lmk what you thought!

[spicysoftsweet]

Prompt:  “So you’re my future bride? You’re not what I expected at all.” by @hisokapegger​‘s request. (Arranged Marriage AU, Illumi x Reader)

A/N: A short scene with quite a bit of dialogue, but this is meant as a small character exploration for good old needleboy. I hope you appreciate something in this! 

P.S. if you would like a backstory to one of Illumi’s comments, please read this previous fic!

---

“So you’re my future bride? You’re not what I expected at all.”

The young man sitting before you kept his tone light and without affect, and despite the vague impression that you had just been insulted, you couldn’t quite sense malice or disappointment in his voice. He punctuated the end of his sentence with a sip of tea he took with his eyes closed, the simple action involving an inordinate amount of effortless grace.

Then he let out a brief sigh, his face still blank as usual but continuing his just mildly disinterested gaze on you. 

You fought the urge to scowl at him. Instead you too reached out to grab your own cup of tea, trying to match the same level of poise, only to knock the fine china over, spilling hot tea over your side of the table. A small yelp escaped you and you leapt up to catch the cup before it hit the ground, only to have the sharp crashing sound accent your failure.

Your eyes darted to your future husband in a panic, then over to a butler, the sole other presence in this room, who was already rushing to clear your mess. 

“Have a seat.” Illumi commanded quietly, taking yet another sip. “It’s not a big deal,” he continued as the butler mopped the already cooling spill before you.

What an impression you were making, you thought for a moment, then realized you had been trying to impress him. Why?

Even if you could already tell he was out of your league and knew it too, you didn’t have to prove yourself. The two of you were already engaged to be married against your will and likely against his, after all. Your father had even said it was a miracle the Zoldycks had agreed, as you were unteachable as an assassin - your parents had tried - and your Hatsu was useless in combat. 

You’re lucky someone will even accept you as you are, you had been told. 

Looking at the man whose stare lingered as though he were sizing up your worth, you weren’t so sure that was true. You settled in your chair again, trying to come up with something to say to distract yourself from the fact that you had already started breaking your in-law’s possessions, but he spoke first.

“You’re attractive but appear clumsy. You’re also healthy-appearing but clearly lack any appreciable power.”

Another unsolicited harsh set of statements, delivered with nonchalance, his fingers tucking a bit of hair behind his ear. If he had planned to insult you behind closed doors, what was the point of this? Is this how you would get to know each other?

Unable to hold yourself back, you found yourself retorting, “Does it really matter? We-”

“It does,” he interjected. “I have work to do and I cannot spend my time concerned with your health and safety,” he clarified, as if he was explaining the most obvious thing in the world. There was a finality to his tone that enraged you. You already could not imagine spending another hour with him, let alone your entire life.

You’d had enough.  

You rose to your feet rapidly, a small part of you hoping the impact of your display of outrage wouldn’t be muted by the enormously large bouffant dress you were wearing by your soon-to-be mother-in-law’s recommendation.

“With all due respect, Mr. Zoldyck -” - his eyebrows rose at the stress you put on the appellation - “I did not come here to be insulted. If you don’t like what you see, that’s honestly just too bad. I am not too enthralled by becoming your wife myself and this conversation is only making it worse.”

You inhaled sharply before continuing, refusing to let yourself be interrupted again before you finished your tirade.

“However, our parents are likely not going to budge on this affair, and I, in particular, don’t care to prove anything to you. I will play my role and nothing more, nothing less. Understood?”

A moment passed while the two of you looked at each other. Illumi continued to sit relaxed in his chair while you stood, somewhere between agitated and irritated, realizing as time passed that you’d possibly crossed a line.

After all, he wouldn’t have to marry you if you were dead.

And when he rose to meet you at then past your height so that he was staring down at you instead, expression calm yet unsettling given the fact that you had all but yelled at him, you braced yourself for whatever onslaught was coming. 

Instead, something almost imperceptible must have changed, and you couldn’t see it in his smooth facial features or in his large, dark eyes or even in his voice, but he seemed to soften. The rest of his body followed suit, his wide shoulders relaxing, and he took a deep breath. 

“I apologize. I… have found that things are easier when I look at things more objectively.”

You didn’t move, but your hands moved from where they were gripping the table to your side, as you waited for him to continue.

“The last and only time I ever loved someone I was encouraged to end it.”

You looked at him in confusion at the sudden blatant honesty, but could you really say it was out of place for him? From what you’d already observed, he seemed to say anything that was on his mind anyway, for better or for worse.

“Please sit,” he invited you this time rather than commanded, and you found yourself dropping back into your chair. His voice was softer and it was almost disconcerting. You could tell it was not natural for him to be nice. Polite yes, but not kind.

Observing him again as he spoke, you re-evaluated your stance. Maybe the harsh language, the disdain buried in his gaze and the measured movements were less meant to scare you off but to rein himself in. While he could look intimidating, you could imagine him soft as a child if he was genuinely happy. Could he be genuinely happy? You started to become curious.

“I know Mother and Father chose you themselves, but I can’t be too sure. They’ve changed their minds on a whim before.”

A pit formed in your stomach but you nodded. Their families were… different.

“I will not promise to love you. However, I can do my duty. I always have.”

[perhapsthanatos]

10:32 pm with yuta ♡

nct’s yuta x fem!reader (got inspired by a dream of mine & found the idea really cute)

alternate title: be the james dean to my audrey hepburn

genre: fluff. a pinch of angst. non idol au. badboy!yuta au.

word count: 1400~

playlist: chinatown by wild nothing, lover’s rock by tv girl & work this time by king gizzard and the lizard wizard.

warnings: featuring johnny (not a warning though). smoking cigarettes. cursing. lowercase intended. not proofread.

a/n: hi i was supposed to post a vampire!haechan fic but i really wasnt happy w it in general :( the plot or overall idea of the fic was really good, but i just felt as if i didnt do it justice so here we are :( but ngl, i kind of like this concept more? maybe bc i can see it more vividly? idk, i feel like my writings r getting repetitive & its getting on my nerves lmaoo this is getting long im sorry do u guys even read this part anyway? i would also like to apologize abt the amount of projecting im doing lmao ive been having some rough days & i love my sister but hate being compared to her so often so this is a way for me to rant abt it ig? also so sorry its coming out a little later bc i woke up late today (& procrastinated for the rest of it so here i am posting really late at night) & decided to go to the convenience store to get ice cream (& a ton of other bad shit pls dont do this its rlly unhealthy) for breakfast bc i can :) any who, enjoy lovelies <3

“oh my, y/n! you’ve grown up so well! just like your sister!”

“oh! i’m sorry i’ve almost mistaken you for your sister! y/n is your name, correct?”

“y/n, darling, you are looking so dashing! you really do resemble your sister, don’t you?”

“ah, you must be y/n! i’ve heard all about you and your sister from your father!”

you swear that your reddening cheeks are threatening to fall off any moment now from all the fake smiling. the hundreds of superficial compliments, the insincere flattery and the need for these people to constantly compare you to your godforsaken sister makes you feel even weaker than you are. it gets harder and harder to keep up with a big persona that isn’t at all you. as lucky as you are to live such a lavish lifestyle, you can’t help but hate how your family has to be so perfect. you hate how you have never fit in with them, even if you are so good at faking it. you hate how you have always been stuck in your sister’s shadow, constantly haunted with the reminder that you yourself aren’t good enough. you hate how you now have to entertain the rich and brainless guests at your parent’s gala because she’s gone for some stupid prodigy competition and everyone is only talking about her in front of your face. so what if she’s better the better sister? you still have the right to earn respect, right?

you’re exhausted from all the small talk. your facade gets more brittle by the second under all the pressure. your body feels as if it's gonna give out due to your brain shutting down after all that interacting. you try to keep on going with the night as it unravels itself by being the perfectly poised poster child, trying to make your parents proud. but alive yet almost completely devoid, you decide enough was enough. what if you left right now? no one would notice, would they?

after pulling up your phone discreetly to send a few text messages, you pass through lots of people dressed in gold and finery in a way that wouldn’t have you noticed right away. keep your head down and don’t you dare make eye contact with anyone. nearing the end of the room, grabbing the first glass of whatever alcohol you see and downing it in one gulp, you start walking away as quickly as possible from the ballroom. “ignorant privileged fucks,” you angrily whisper to no one in particular, setting the now empty glass on whatever surface and begin to head to the main exit where no one could spot you running away.

“and what do you think you’re doing here, miss?”

a voice interrupts you, looking up you see that it is your father’s head butler; johnny. he is dressed in a simple black suit that makes him appear taller than he is. his long brown hair is slicked back and his bowtie seems brand new. you have known the man since he started working in your household less than ten years back. you were a reckless child, often trying to find ways to sneak out, finding a way to escape from this life and he sympathized with you. after all, he could barely imagine living your life, never catching a break for yourself and always pretending to be someone you weren’t. he often helped planning when you would sneak out into the night, scheduling things like what time you should leave and what time you should be back, more specifically a time when no one would notice. he would take care of your form of transportation and have your location on at all times, just to be extra safe. as much as he wants you to have fun and have a bit of freedom, he still worries that something might happen to you. because of all this, you two have grown to have a very strong bond. you could confidently say that he is most definitely a parental figure in your life since your parents (and even your sister) are often overseas for work.

“what do you think i’m doing? you think i wanna be in a room with those half-baked bipeds? fuck no!”

“i know, i was just joking. you looked like you were about to explode in there, i wish i could help.” he laughs, pulling out his phone preparing what you might need. “so what will it be for today? the driver? we just need to pay him to keep his mouth shut. a taxi? it’s cheaper than paying the driver, but you still need to pay… not like that’s a problem for you though. maybe an uber would be good enough—“

“actually, i got myself covered. thanks.”

his jaw slightly drops and his eyebrows furrow. he looks straight at you in shock. “what do you mean you got yourself covered?”

you look down at your feet, a nervous habit. “i got myself a ride, you don’t need to help me. i’ll be back as soon as dawn comes.”

he raises his eyebrow. “who’s your ride?”

“doesn’t matter,” you glance down at your phone seeing a notification and wave a goodbye, leaving rather suddenly. “i gotta go, i’ll text you when you need to open the gates!”

“y/n! wait! who’s your ride— and she’s gone.” johnny sighs, watching as you run towards the front gates, tossing your stiletto heels away on the grass while you’re at it. he heads back inside, silently hoping you’ll be fine.

knocking the window of the old black mustang parked outside behind the big bushes, the driver rolls down his window and sends the most charming smile.

yuta in his black beanie, long blonde hair, worn out doc martens, signature leather jacket and black skinny jeans. it almost makes you laugh on how he wears the same thing almost everyday but still manages to look so good.

he is most notable for having a big bad boy reputation and you knew that he was the breath of fresh air you needed in your life. a person who can understand having the pressure of having to be or to fulfill your persona. a person you can completely be yourself around. a person who is full of warmth no matter how cold he may seem on the outside.

“get in, princess.”

and that was all you needed. you tiredly walked to the other door and sat yourself in the car. rolling his window back up, he looks at you. you are wearing a simple yet stunning black dress along with silver jewelry adorned on your neck and wrists. your makeup is perfectly done but still struggles to hide the fog in your eyes. he has the sudden urge to clear them away. he softens at the sight of you. no one is perfect, but he finds you being perfect enough without ever having to dress up.

“where to?” he asks as gently as he could. he knows that you are most vulnerable during these moments and that it is hard to finally break down your walls after a day full of stress, so he doesn’t pry immediately. all he wants to do is to keep you here, safe and away from your burdens and for you to stay comfortable with him, even if it couldn't be for long. but is that too selfish of him to ask? he hates how you hate your life and it is taking every bone in his body to not run away with you. but who is he to tell you what to do or what to change anyway? all he can do for now is try to find a way to make you genuinely smile.

“take me anywhere,” you whisper to the latter. “i just want to be as far from myself and my life as possible. miles away or the nearest convenience store, just take the long way home before dawn.”

you look down at the cup holders, spotting an open cigarette box. you tug one out of the nineteen and light it with the lighter you kept in your pocket. you lean back and close your eyes. he only admires as you bring the cigarette to your lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke afterwards. letting the radio play quietly, he starts the car and begins to drive away from the mansion. he can’t help but wonder how you (an elegant daughter) and him (a bad boy) are millions of worlds apart, but more similar than you think.

© perhapsthanatos (efa)

[whirlybirbs]

✶  —  las rosas están cayendo   ;   j.m. 

summary: you're a figurehead in a far-reaching criminal underground operation that's offered jesse mccree haven and work in the last few years. your relationship with the cyberized cowboy is complicated but oh-so lovestruck.

pairing: jesse mccree / reader, est. relationship

tags: fluff, angst, good guy falls for the bad guy who’s not so bad

a/n: i’m simping, it’s fine

                               (    read on archive of our own !   )

Jesse McCree likes the Silkroad's End. Always has.

The place's very namesake pays homage to some dark web marketplace that operated back in the 10s; it's fitting, Jesse thinks, since the entity itself certainly fits what he'd imagine the personification of that very digital market to be. Dark, a bit shady, and always crawling with folks who aren't really who they say they are.

Staff changes every three weeks. Location, too. Lucky for him, the only thing that stays the same is the barkeep. Everything else is rotating, always moving, always changing. It's best that way.

Truth be told nothing in the States offers true anonymity, anymore. All that's long since past. Every damn street corner has a camera watchin'. But, the Silkroad's End is good — and discretion is their business. They offer what people like Jesse McCree need:

Trustworthy resources.

Even still, knowing about the Silkroad's End is one thing.

Getting in is another entirely.

Jesse's learned not to be startled when a stranger ambles up and slips something in his palm — might get 'im killed someday, but for now, he offers a gentle tip of the hat to whatever camera is eyein' his current move in whatever city he's in.

The chips — obsidian colored and round — are few and far between. There's a chain-code implanted in the micro-computer inside that registers a location on his personal data-device; but without that chip, he ain't gettin' inside. It's one use, one time only.

This time, the den is a quiet little place on a side street in New Orleans.

This chip was delivered to Jesse in a seedy bar bathroom — and as he shoved it into his pocket and muscled up his tawny-colored jeans, he was left grimacing. Bastard that gave it to him didn't even wash his hands. Just pissed and dropped it on top of the urinal.

The den is downstairs, and Jesse turns in his chip after finding the little location to a towering omnic who reminds his a little bit too much of a certain butler he once knew.

"Might wanna wash that."

Spurs tinker on the wooden steps, and when the door's eye slot slams open, Jesse is met with the gaze of a human this time — an unknown staff member with a tattoo that crawls up the side of his head. There's a tense silence. Then, the slot slams shut.

With a quick yank of the three-inch durasteel door, Jesse finally steps foot into the Silkroad's End.  

And, with an elated sort of smirk, he swaggers right in your direction.  

Jesse reckons it's been four months since he's seen you — the ever-present barkeep and present owner of the Silkroad's End  — last ;  could be that you're one of many owners and operators, as he suspects but... Well, Jesse never had enough to go on that hunch.

There he was, as always, distracted.

You know the sound of his spurs from a million others. In an instant, your lashes are flicking up from the bar and through the crowded back room. Tonight is busy — seems a good few members decided tonight would be the night they cash in their chips. You shouldn't be surprised to see Jesse McCree, but...

He's always had a way of knocking you off your game.

"Have I ever told you," comes the low croon as a set of cyberized knuckles rap on the mahogany bar, "that you make the best drinks around?"

Your smirk settles into your words. You move slowly, reaching for that top-shelf whiskey he likes so much.

"Is that why you keep coming back, then?"

Jesse smirks. His trademark hat finds a spot beside him at the bar, and he leans back to run a hand through his dark, wild hair. "One of a handful of reasons I could list, sure."

The drink that lands in front of him is coupled with your full attention.

Jesse feels awfully big in it.

His fingertip tinker against the glass. The sound is pleasing.

Your elbows meet the bartop. You lean. Your eyes drift across his face, and for a moment you find a rush of relief bloom at the realization that there are no new scars. He looks tired, but well.

Alive.  

A lot for a man with a bounty of sixty million on his head.

You work hard to keep that very bounty out of the Silkroad's End 's docket. That ledger of his, deep and relentless, has become harder to ignore in recent months. With word that Overwatch was recalled... Jesse's name had been floating around more than you liked recently.

It made you worry.

Your voice is soft. So is your smile.

Jesse, the sap he is, is glad he's sitting down for the sight of it.

"You look good, Jesse."

He scoffs into the whiskey. His eyes, a dark brown and warm like the run, roll at the remark. You grin.

"M' gettin' old," he rumbles, "And things are changing' faster than I can keep up with."

You don't pry. A habit. A good one, mostly. Jesse has a habit of being an open book. Given the chance, you'll pry later. For now, you opt to air on the side of wistful interest. Fleeting and light.

Your chin finds your palm.

Long ago, you wouldn't have dared to let a soul see you so engaged with a member like this, but... This operation ran on trust. Discretion was a part of the bigger equation and the people in this room?  You've known most of them for years now.

Bounty hunters, arms dealers, drug peddlers.

They know better than to bite the hand that feeds.

"You been busy, then?" you ask, watching the way his eyes stick to you, even when he reaches to dig out a cigar from a pocket beneath his serape. In a flash, he's procured a gilded lighter and flicked it open. The flame dances between you both, and you watch as he puffs the cigar. The embers burn red.

He exhales and smoke swirls around his head like horns — Jesse's lips slip into a lopsided sort of look; more playful than anything.

"That lead you gave me," he drawls, "It worked out. Paid good, too."

Your smile is slow.

This song and dance is always fun.

"Been savin' a few for you," you say, "You're one of the few I can trust to actually bring people in alive."  

"I haven't even been here fer more than a minute an' you're already talkin' business, pumpkin," Jesse grins, all toothy and scruffy, and takes another puff of his cigar, "That all you ever do?"

"You know me, Jesse," you slide your fingers across the underside of the bar, sending the partition up and allowing you to step around. You shrug your shoulders and hang your hands. The way his eyes flick across your figure isn't lost on you.

You cock your head towards the back office as you speak. "Always scheming."

If that ain't the god damn truth.

You're a smart little thing. All devilish wit and pulled strings. You have enough dirt in your back pocket to bring a few governments down, Jesse supposes. Nothing to bat an eyelash at.

He follows with ease; hat tucked upon his head once more, cigar and whiskey held in his hands. He follows you, looming over your shoulder, as the sea of patrons part with sidewards glances and half-aware nods. Everyone has their own business to attend to. You're simply attending to yours.

The back office isn't really much of an office — if anything, it's a refitted storage room. There's a desk, a handful of monitors, and enough security barring entrance to the windowless room that Jesse's roughed up every time.

The omnic patting him down isn't gentle. He tugs the peacekeeper from his hip holster and grunts. Jesse scowls.

That ain't never been a problem before, though.

You, all poised with your arms crossed, wave it off. The gun is shoved roughly back into Jesse's holster. If both hands weren't preoccupied, maybe the bouncer would get more than the nasty snarl Jesse manages as he's waved through. Maybe.

As the door slips shut behind him, the sound of your heels is all he hears.

"Beefed up security, huh?"

Your sigh is tight. He can see the tension along your shoulders when you round the sleek desk in the middle of the room and unlock a drawer. If you'd thought he'd move past your silence, you're wrong.

Jesse isn't like you.

He has a bad habit of asking plenty of follow up questions.

"What happened, pumpkin?"

That damn nickname is enough to spur you to straighten yourself, to set the datapad down gently on the desk in front of you, and to frown.

"There was an incident."

His worry is palpable.

"Nothing dramatic," you wave it off, shooing him slightly when he nears the desk. You walk around it and lean, settling on the edge, "But it was enough to spook a few staff members into being more mindful of who carries in the establishment. Especially behind closed doors."

You've had enough guns pulled on you in your life to know that one could have been the last — but it wasn't. It was fine. Might have earned you a few restless nights and a few connections to clean up, but the disgruntled member was dealt with. That was a month and a half ago now. Distant.

Jesse frowns. He sets his whiskey down on your desk, then leans and smothers the cigar in a fizzle of ash and smoke in the ashtray there.

His voice goes low, gruff, and serious.

"Pumpkin, I ain't a good man," he breathes, eyes low beneath the brim of his hat, "You're better off not trustin' men like me."

He does this every time.

A glimmer of self-consciousness towards his own character.

You know him better than to believe that shit.

"Jesse, if anyone was to put a bullet between my eyes," you mutter, unlocking the datapad with a flick of your finger, "I'd be honored if you were the one to do it."

That earns you a low grumble.

His weight moves to shift beside you. His hip bumps yours. His shoulder saddles right up against your own. You can smell the cigar on him, the burn of the whiskey on his tongue. Jesse is warm. He laces his own fingers together. You can feel his eyes on you as you sift through the files of bounties — and you try not to seem startled when he says your name soft enough it could pass for a lullaby.

"... You alright?"

It's not often you're asked this question.

You were right before — you were always talking business. Personal matters were kept far from any business dealings you did on a daily basis. It was pertinent. Kept the machine well-oiled.

Things with Jesse, though... They'd been different for a long time.

Things changed when the two of you had forgone professionalism once a handful of years ago now. It wasn't long after the first time you'd met him the cowboy had stolen himself into your well-guarded feelings. You blamed the charm. He believed it was luck. Despite knowing nearly nothing about you, he'd become enamored, and — when you'd initially thought the sex was something to sweeten the deal, Jesse quickly made it plenty clear he intended on keeping the sex and the business separate.

The feelings grew between those two things.

Now, in the center of his attention... Well, you feel small.

You let out a slow exhale.

"I missed you, y'know," you say slowly, eyes still trained on the names staring back at you on the datapad.

"Yeah," he breathes, "I missed you, too. Ain't fun bein' gone so long."

"As if either of us has a choice?"

Another hum. This one a bit sadder. Jesse supposes you're right, that it isn't exactly ideal  — and it's not as if he's allowed himself to be vulnerable to anyone else these last few years. Not when he's a wanted man. Not when gettin' someone tangled up in the danger is the last thing he wants.

It was different with you. You knew the danger. You...

Christ alive, he wishes now things were different.

Back then, it was easy.

Coming to terms, now, with the numbing loneliness that hangs itself over the both of you hurts a bit worse. Time is ticking by. He'll be older than he is younger soon.

"You ever wish you could leave it all behind?"

His question is met with a tired scoff. Your cheek finds his shoulder. Your hair falls along his arm.

"And become the world's most wanted woman?"

"What you've got is an empire," Jesse drawls, a hand slowly reaching for your own, "M' sure someone would wanna call it theirs ."

"And then what happens to the tired, old queen? The queen who knows what makes that empire strong?"

Your quirk your brows. Jesse sighs.

"... Point taken."

"I made my bed," you say with a measured sense of finality, "And I've gotta lay in it, Jesse."

His eyes dance alight when something then that's tempered with fire; he blinks down at you through thick lashes as he speaks.

"Wouldn't mind layin' with you..."

It's husky. Drawn out. Nearly a sigh, especially when his fingers slip along the curve of your wrist and draw up to your cheek.

"I'm starting to think you come here," you mumble with an edge of sarcasm as his nose brushes yours, "For more than just business ."

"Oh, sweetpea," Jesse grins as he whispers, "It's been that way for a long time now."

The kiss is bruising — the sort you missed horribly in those months apart. It's lip and teeth and scruff; the brush of his beard is enough to make you smile, enough to make you abandon the datapad on your desk.

Enough to keep you distracted enough that you don't notice Jesse McCree tapping an encrypted data transfer skimmer over your datapad.

You'll notice in the morning.

And by then, he'll be long gone.

[hanniiesuckle17]

The Modern Wife

HAN JISUNG REGENCY AU

A/n: Literally I’ve been so obsessed with the idea of this I had to mess up my schedule and write this. Also, omg will you look at that edit job??? I have never used photoshop in my life and look at that!!! Also special shoutout to Celi @poeticallyspaghetti​ for helping me so much with this

See how many Austen quotes you can spot!

Warnings: Slight cursing, mention of violence

Word Count: 11.5k

Summary: Miss Y/n L/n is the talk of the town. She is one of four gorgeous sisters. Her father is a successful politician who travels frequently back and forth to London. She is beautiful, poised, and absolutely unobtainable. Every man in town had been asking for her hand, all except a certain Colonel. Things are turned upside down when Miss L/n is forced into an engagement.

Genre: history!au, enemies to lovers!au, regency!au, historical!au, pride, and prejudice!au

“OW! Not so tight, Harry!” I screamed holding onto my bedposts as my maid and friend, Harriet pulled the laces tight on my corset. “Harry, are you trying to kill me?” I said with a laugh. The small thin plank of wood in the boning pressed hard against my chest and pushed up my breasts as high as they would go for no reason other than to put them on display. 

Ironic that it was unseemly to show my ankle but my cleavage could parade about the world openly. For the next forty minutes, Harriet proceeded to help me get dressed. The pale yellow frock complimented my skin nicely. Harriet always knew what I looked best in. She sat me down at my vanity while she fixed my hair, untwisted the fabric that tied my curls. Before she could finish my eyes glimpsed movement outside my window. 

“Cecilia!”

Bolting up from the chair I ran down the hall, fabric billowing behind me. I rushed passed several servants as I made my way down the sunlit passageway. “Miss Y/n,” our butler, Mr. Carson, exclaimed as I nearly ran him over. Thankfully he did not drop the glassware on his tray. “I’m sorry, Carson!” “Don’t worry about it, my lady.”

With a bright smile, I burst through the large entryway doors and was met by a gracious morning breeze, A carriage had pulled up in the driveway and a woman a few years older than me was exiting the cab with the help of a footman.

“Cecilia! You’re home!” 

“Y/n!”

Wrapping my arms around my elder sister I gave her the biggest hug imaginable. The sound of our laughter could most likely be heard from anywhere on the grounds. I was once again reunited with my sister. She had not been gone but a few months since her last visit, but it felt like ages to me. 

“I should hope I get the same welcoming as my wife,” Turning away, I saw my sister’s husband stepping out of the carriage, a kind smile on his face. “Of course, Chan. I could never forget my brother in law.” He gently gave me a hug before returning me back to my sister. 

“Is father home?” I shook my head, leading my sister arm in arm into the house. “No, he has yet to return from London.” She scoffed and held my hand tighter. “But, it is the beginning of spring! How can he miss your birthday?” Carson greeted Cecilia and Chan with a warm welcome before we continued to the parlor. 

“Do not worry. Papa said he would return in the next few days in time for the ball on Saturday. Tomorrow we girls will simply have to celebrate my nineteenth birthday together.” Chan left us to talk while he helped tried to help Carson and the footmen with the bags, much to Carson’s displeasure. Chan never could really get used to having servants do things for him.

“Where are Charlotte and Emma?” Cecilia was referring to our two younger sisters. Charlotte had turned sixteen this year and little Emma was now ten. “They are in lessons right now. Papa is still positively adamant we are all educated to the highest degree.”  “Of course, he is.”

My sister filled me in on everything that had happened in Dover in the past few months. She and Chan had moved there after they got married, much against father’s will. “Oh, Chan got a letter before we left. He said the Colonel was in London and met up with father. He might come back to Surrey for the spring.” 

Cecilia laughed as disdain took over my face. “Wonderful. There go my hopes of a lovely spring.” “He isn’t that bad, Y/n.” The Colonel was around Cecilia’s age, in his very early twenties. He was the one who introduced Chan to Cecilia. Chan had served in his infantry and had grown quite close to the young officer. 

Father adored the Colonel. Anytime the Colonel returned to Surrey, Papa would insist on us inviting him to our residence. Everyone loved the Colonel. He was a brave man who had done his country proud in the war, taking over his father’s position in the midst of battle after he tragically perished. There was just something about him that made me hate him. He walked around like he was entitled to everything around him. 

“Does that mean he’ll be returning with father?” Cecilia nodded as her husband entered the room. “Who?” Chan asked sitting across from us. “Colonel Han,” Chan nodded with a soft smile on his face, adjusting his jacket. “I assume so. Miss Y/n why are you asking about him? If my memory serves me correctly, the last time he was here you called him ‘Death’s head on a broomstick’,” 

“Well, it was rightly deserved. I’m simply asking because I would like to know when to board up Whitewater so that he simply can’t get in.” 

Cecilia’s bright blue eyes crinkled as she laughed. Running footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. In raced two girls who practically jumped on Cecilia. “Cecilia, we missed you!” Emma sang in her soft voice. Charlotte went and gave Chan a gentle hug as well. 

The next day we celebrated my birthday. Chan and Cecilia got me a lovely gift, a gorgeous leather-bound sketchbook. I knew there was no way they could possibly afford something of such quality, but Cecilia insisted I take it. Carson and the staff celebrated with us making and sharing a beautiful cake. The next two days went by quickly. Chan worked on his music, the girls continued their studies, and Cecilia and I spent the time walking the grounds and gossiping about anything and everything, with Harriet often joining us

On Thursday afternoon, Charlotte and I were strolling near the banks of the creek, for which our estate was named. The clear water quickly rushed along making almost a soft song with the wind in the trees. Soon, we began to grow tired so we headed back to Whitewater.

As we reached the estate, my eyes were drawn to a carriage and a horse stationed outside. No one was expecting visitors so it must mean father was home. Charlotte and I raced into the house, grins filling our faces. 

“Papa! Are you home?” I called out. Charlotte heard voices in the parlor, so we both ventured into the sitting room. “There are the rest of my beautiful daughters!” He exclaimed, getting up and wrapping his arms around us. It felt so good to have my father’s arms wrapped around me again. His familiar smell of burning wood and lavender. 

He pulled away and kissed each of our cheeks. “Girls, you remember Colonel Han Jisung.” I tried to hide the grimace on my face but failed. Of course. That’s whose horse was out front. My eyes fell on the man standing near the window. He wore a dark navy overcoat and pristine black boots. While his somewhat smaller and shorter than some of the other military men I had met in the past, there was no doubt about the way he commanded the room.  His shaggy brown hair was tousled from the ride back to Surrey. 

His dark eyes were hidden as he bowed and took Charlotte’s hand. A proper way to greet a lady. “Yes, unfortunately, I do remember,” I said rolling my eyes. “Believe me, feelings are the same Miss L/n.” The Colonel said giving me a curt bow. Rolling my eyes, I sat down next to Cecilia, who nudged me, giving me a look. 

“Papa, how was London?” Charlotte asked happily. Father smiled and sat back down near the fireplace. Mr. Han remained standing near where Chan was sitting. “Perfectly fine. Everything is well. It seems Napoleon’s advances in England have stopped for the time being. Also, I met quite an intriguing man and invited him to have dinner with us this evening.” 

“Is he handsome, Father?” Charlotte asked. “Charlotte, do not ask such things.” Cecilia scolded, gently pushing our sister back in her seat. “I should think so. Colonel, you are welcome to join us for supper as well.” 

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You do most days anyway,” I muttered under my breath.

Ignoring the look he sent my way I turned back to father. “Nonsense! You shall join us!” The hour seemed to drag on. Father and Mr.Han seemed to only talk about the war. Papa only paused to ask Cecilia and Chan about Dover and Chan’s music. To be fair he only asked because Cecilia forced him to be civil with Chan about his work.

Soon, The Colonel decided he should return to his estate and unpack his things. “Thank you for your time. The visit was lovely.” He said graciously. Giving everyone a short goodbye, he mounted his horse and made the travel to Ruxfield Manor a few miles to the west of Whitewater.

“That was an eventful visit,” Cecilia said wrapping her arm in mine.

“It was a delightful visit-perfect in being much too short.” 

She laughed at my comment as the two of us climbed the stairs to get ready for dinner in a few hours. Harriet helped me change for dinner and pinned up my hair leaving a few twisting strands loose framing my face. “Carson told me your father and his guests are already in the sitting room,” I sighed picking up a handheld mirror as she clasped a necklace around my neck.

“Well, then we should join them.” I stood up, smoothing the dark green fabric of the dress Harriet had picked out. As I exited my bedroom, the door next to me opened as well to reveal my sister and her husband dressed for dinner. As we approached the parlor, Carson opened the door and announced us.

“Miss Y/n and Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

All heads turned towards us as we entered the room. Two men stood up at the announcement. One was the Colonel, purely out of respect for the women of the household. His eyes never even moved to the door. The other man wore a dark almost velvet-like coat and he carried himself with high prestige. 

He had deep brown eyes and sharp features. “My darling girls,” Father exclaimed before setting down his glass of sherry. He came and kissed both of our cheeks. “Father,” I said, latching onto his arm. He led us over to the men and our sisters. 

“Mr. Han,” I said trying not to roll my eyes. He gave me a curt nod and then returned to his seat. “Y/n play nice,” Papa said jokingly. “I am, Papa!” 

“Miss Y/n,” The other man said bowing before me. I couldn’t help but give him a questioning look as he took my hand and placed a soft and chaste kiss on my skin. “Oh, and to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“Angel, this is Mr. Lee. He is a barrister in London. Minho, this is my second eldest daughter.” Mr. Lee stood up straight and looked me over with a gentle, but mischievous smile. “The pleasure is all mine. Your father has told me so much about you.” 

“Oh has he now! All good things I hope!”

“You can you tell the difference?” The Colonel mumbled, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Oh please, you are hardly agreeable yourself.”

“I do not wish people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of being forced into casual pleasantries.”

Thankfully, Carson entered the room, saving the Colonel and myself from getting into yet another altercation. “Dinner is ready to be served in the dining room.” Mr. Han scoffed when Minho bowed once again and offered me his arm. The eight of us ventured into the dining room where our new light bulbs brightened up the space from the ceiling. Father was obsessed with every new invention.

Papa took his place at the head of the table, the girls on either side of him. Cecilia sat across from her husband and the Colonel was seated next to her and across from me. Mr. Lee was seated at the other end of the table.  

Polite conversation was heard throughout dinner. The girls discussed their studies with father, who then bragged about our education to Mr. Lee. Dinner was lovely as always. Mr. Lee was beyond courteous and thanked Carson and the staff for the meal. We engaged in polite conversation. Mr. Lee seemed to pride himself in small talk because the conversation never got any bigger. “You know green is my favorite color. It is almost as if you wore that dress to see me smile.”

To be frank he was quite boring. He seemed no different than the other men I had met except for the fact he seemed fascinated by the cats on his estate. Cecilia sent me a pitiful glance and I did my best to hide my expression from Father. 

“Doori is just so mischievous. And Soongi! You would love Soongi!” Cecilia stifled a laugh as I downed the rest of the wine in my glass. I was too preoccupied forcing the alcohol down my throat that I didn’t notice Mr. Han’s soft laughter at my struggle with Mr. Lee. 

“Since we are all here and getting along so well, I would like to say something,” Father announced to the room. Carson ushered the footmen out of the room and back to the kitchen before turning back to Father at full attention. Every eye at the table was on Papa.

“After much discussion and thought, I have decided that it is time for Y/n to be married.” 

All eyes turned to me. I froze and looked around the table. Excuse me? When did my father talk to me about this? He was just marrying me off to some random noble?

“Mr. Lee and I have agreed. We would like to announce an engagement by the end of the summer.” 

This time all eyes turned to Mr. Lee at the other end of the table. “What?” Cecilia says breaking the silence that had lasted for much too long. I could do nothing but stare at the table. There were too many emotions flying around and none of them were particularly good let alone ladylike. Everyone, even the Colonel looked between my father and Mr. Lee with widened eyes. Chan watched his wife struggling to comprehend my fate. The girls stared at me looking for an answer. I felt the Colonel’s stare like a weight, when I looked up he was looking anywhere except my face. He let out a hefty sigh with an emotionless expression as he soon became fascinated with the chandelier.

“Did you think to ask me how I felt?” Papa looked at me, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “I didn’t think you would much care,” All of my sisters seemed shocked at his words. Father had always been so set on us making our own decisions. He always wanted us to be happy, especially after our mother had passed.

“Just because Cecilia decided she did not want to marry a noble doesn’t mean you can pass this onto me!” Cecilia looked down at her plate. It was no secret that Papa was outraged at her marriage to Chan. “This has nothing to do with your sister.” 

“You are sending me away! Why not just make this punishment even worse? Send me off with the Colonel, make my life completely miserable!”

“Y/n L/n!” Father yelled standing up. 

“Father you are at fault here too,” Cecilia said standing up. She rushed over and led me out of the room and up the stairs. When Harriet saw us down the hall she rushed to us and opened the door to my bedroom. “Did you hear, Harry?” You looked at the girl who sadly nodded. Of course, she had heard. People in France had heard the argument between me and Papa. Cecilia helped Harriet calm me down and change before placing a kiss on my forehead and leaving to confer with her husband. Slowly I slipped into a deep sleep hoping to forget the events of this night.

The next afternoon my sister and I strolled through the lanes of Surrey on our way to the dress shop. Cecilia had convinced me to come out and get a new dress for the ball tomorrow night with her. Despite my protests, she and Harriet dragged me out of bed and helped slip by my father’s study and into town. 

I had to admit, I was thankful to be away from Whitewater. Walking into the dress shop with my sister on my arm felt freeing. Like I wasn’t about to be engaged to a man I had absolutely no interest in. 

Breathing in the smell of the wood and the fabrics put a smile on my face. Cecilia ran over to the rolls of blue fabric. I had missed coming to the seamstress with my older sister. In Dover Chan and Cecilia didn’t have enough money to get a new dress more than once or twice a year, so Cecilia was thrilled to come with me. 

“What color do you think you would like?” Cecilia shouted from over her shoulder, pulling out a dress with baby blue fabric and white lace. I shrugged and sorted through the different dresses. “I will wear anything but green. Minho would not stop talking about how I wore his favorite color at dinner.” Cecilia laughed as I brushed passed a light green ensemble without hesitation. 

“Why don’t we send you in black since it is going to be your funeral anyway,” Cecilia said throwing a black frock at me. I laughed and returned the dress to the seamstress. “Y/n, what about this?” She handed me a gorgeous red dress that was embroidered with pearls and gold thread. 

“I have not worn red since we were little girls. It’s absolutely gorgeous!” The seamstress helped us try on the dresses before we paid for them and changed back. Cecilia laughed as I recounted the conversation with Mr. Lee as we walked out of the shop. I felt uneasy. Like something was off. Looking around I saw several young men from the town walking about and standing near shops but they all seemed to be looking anywhere but me, which was very abnormal. 

“Do you think they heard about the engagement? It isn’t even official yet!” Cecilia said, reading my mind. An exasperated sigh left my chest. “Nor will it be. I will marry Lee Minho over my dead body.” 

“Oh, Miss Y/n!” a voice called out from across the street. 

Looking for the source of the deep voice I found Lee Felix, Colonel Han’s aide. And of course, next to him, was Colonel Han Jisung himself. My sister laughed as the Colonel and I both grimaced. Despite the second protests of the day, Cecilia dragged me over to greet the two soldiers. 

Han and Felix gave the two of us military level bows and Felix greeted us happily. “I see you two ladies are enjoying today’s fine weather.” Mr. Han said looking around at the scenery, his hands behind his back and his posture incredibly straight. “Yes, Y/n and I were out shopping for an ensemble for the ball tomorrow.” 

Felix’s grin grew three times larger. “I see that!” He said pointing to the folded dresses in our arms. “Oh Colonel, Miss Y/n picked out a red dress! What a coincidence!” Han spared me and the dress in my arms a glance before scoffing and looking at Felix. “What is a coincidence? Do tell,” I said, a smirk falling on my lips. “Jisung was just saying how gorgeous the red roses were at Ruxfield.” 

“Ow-” Cecilia nudged my stomach with an innocent grin on her sweet oval face. “Y/n just adores roses! She was sketching them in the garden, just the other day.” Cecilia’s blue eyes sparkled as she nudged me once again. What was she getting at? They were just flowers. 

The Colonel looked up at my words, his eyes slightly widening. He quickly recovered and trained his eyes on the ground. “Well, Felix and I have much to attend to. I am sure we shall meet again tomorrow night.” I rolled my eyes as Han mounted his horse, Felix following close behind. 

“Come, we must prepare for tomorrow night, given this new information!”

“Cecilia! What new information? Stop pulling on my arm!”

The carriage rumbled to a stop in front of the Hall. My father the girls and I were all in one cab, while Chan and Cecilia rode in a separate carriage. A footman opened the door and helped me down from the cab. He gently took each of my sisters’ hands as they exited as well. The music swelled as we entered the Hall with our father in front of us.

Emma quickly ran off to the table filled with sweets and hour devours, and Charlotte was towed away by her friends. “Miss L/n!” Turning, I saw Mr. Lee pushing his way through the crowd. Wonderful. The last person I wanted to see.  Like a leech, Mr. Lee latched himself onto my arm. “Are you quite good at dancing, Miss L/n? I fancy myself quite the dancer. They do all the latest court dances in London you see.”

“If you would excuse me, Mr. Lee, I am quite parched,” I said interrupting the never ending stream of words. “Yes, quite alright. I shall miss every second you are parted from me!” Minho said placing a kiss on my hand. Begrudgingly, I plastered a smile on my face and maneuvered my way through the crowd. 

Spotting my sister’s golden brown hair, I moved through the flood of people. Her beautiful baby blue dress stood out against the dark colored suits and dresses around her. She stood next to her husband and another man. “Cecilia, thank goodness.” I heaved out in a sigh. “My dear sister, you look ravishing! Don’t you think so, Mr. Han?” Turning I saw The Colonel dressed in fine navy blue. His eyes drunk me in with a disenchanted expression.

“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humor at the present to give consequence to young ladies with such ‘modern’ attributes.” 

Only to uphold my social presence and reputation did I refrain from slapping him. How could he say something so ghastly right to my face. Before I could fire back Chan interrupted, questioning his friend. “Han, do you plan on joining in the festivities? I certainly plan on bringing my adoring Cecilia onto the dance floor tonight. There is absolutely nothing like dancing after all. It is one of the first refinements of a polished society.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and placing his hands behind his back in a seemingly military sense. 

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.” “Not every savage-” Cecilia ventured. “I assure you, Mrs. Bang. Every savage can. Even damn Napoleon, so no I do not think I shall partake in the such an adolescent event.” 

The urge to shove his head up his ass grew stronger within me by the second, but I don’t think anything would be able to move past the gargantuan log shoved up there already. “Well, my dearest, would you accompany me onto the dance floor.” Chan said with a bright smile, offering a hand to his wife. Her lace gloved hand slid into his with a smile. Just as they were leaving a voice called out over the sea of guests. 

“Miss L/n! Where are you my love? Miss Y/n?” My eyes widened as I saw Minho’s head bobbing through the crowd. “Ah! Miss Y/n! There you are!” He said pointing in my direction. 

“Oh lord help me. Quick!” Without thinking I grabbed the nearest coat sleeve and pulled the man out onto the dance floor, a new dance beginning. “What in all hell?” He exclaimed, eyes turning to saucers. 

A sigh of relief left my lips as Minho walked right passed my previous location, still looking for me. Music swelled and the couples around me started dancing so I joined in with my partner. My heart skipped a beat when my eyes fell on Mr. Han standing in front of me, gently holding my hand and bowing. I curtsied to him and focused on looking for Mr. Lee in the crowd. Hopefully he wasn’t too close. Absentmindedly I followed the steps of the dance, my palm pressing lightly against the Colonel’s as we moved through the steps and turns of the dance. 

Halfway through the song, my eyes followed Mr. Lee as he searched for me into another room. This time a sigh of relief escaped as my focus turned back to the dance. I then became very aware of Mr. Han’s hand on my waist. “Mr. Han, I didn’t realize you could dance.” I jested a smirk playing on my lips. His face remained the same but there was something about his eyes that was different. 

“Miss L/n, I said any savage can dance. I am not excluded.” 

I was left without a retort. I simply stared at him as he circled and came behind me, one hand on my waist, the other gently holding my outstretched hand. The feeling of his chest against my shoulder  was unfamiliar but somehow inviting. He smelled like gun powder and old books. My eyes couldn’t seem to break away from his as we turned and moved with the music. 

The entire world seemed to dissolve away and all I could see was how he was looking at me. How he was holding me gently and cautiously, as if I was a butterfly in his palm. He had a softness in his eyes I had never seen before. The kind that showed a tortured past. Had he always been this handsome? 

Somehow I had never noticed the smooth lines of his face. The soft curve of his lips. The sharp angle of his jaw and the color of his warm tan skin from being in the sun on the battlefield. I had been completely oblivious. I was too stubborn to see the honorable man in front of me. I was even unkind to him on so many occasions yet he looked at me with such a hidden admiration. 

Our movements came to a stop and the Colonel stayed by my side, my hand still resting gently over his. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from his stare. 

“Miss Y/n,” A voice called. Everyone was looking at me. Looking at us. Confusion and suggestion plastered on their faces. Suddenly the Colonel’s hands removed themselves he moved a good distance away from me. 

“Next time you would like to hide from your fiancee, use someone else as a shield. I would much rather not be involved in the manner.”

With a sharp, curt bow the Colonel excused himself and rushed off, disappearing into the bustling and whispering crowd. The gossip seemed to stop when Emma ran up to me, her big bright eyes sparkling. Leaving the moment between myself and Mr. Han behind, I danced with my sisters the rest of the night and did my best to fend off my soon to be fiancee. 

Hours later the evening drew to a close. Emma was already asleep and had returned to Whitewater with father a few hours earlier in our carriage. Charlotte and I walked out of the Hall our arms linked and laughing about Lady Moss’s hair piece. “Can you believe it?” Lottie laughed out of breath.

A yell from the street pulled our attention. “Your master stepped over the line!” A huge crowd had surrounded two very young men near the road. A fight had broke out between two footmen. I winced seeing a blow land on the smaller one’s face and another to his cut. My eyes widened when I caught a glimpse of his face. It was Felix. Colonel Han’s aide. 

“Lottie, go find Chan and Cecilia.” Nodding, she ran back into the hall to find our sister. I pushed my way through the crowd trying to see what was going on. Felix was doing his best to hold his ground against the other boy. It looked like Minho’s steward, Seungmin. “I have no control over what the Colonel does. You’re crazy!” Felix said blocking another swing. 

“Hey! Break it up! Stop this juvenile combat!” A voice boomed. Han himself pushed through the crowd and plowed through Seungmin, a hand clutching the collar of the boys shirt. “You do not touch him. If your quarrel is with me then face me so. Do not be a coward and go after my aide.” There was a fire in his eyes and Seungmin looked terrified. The power Han exuded would frighten any man. 

Seungmin, regaining his composure, threw a punch at the Colonel, landing on his jaw. While he seemed mostly unaffected, Seungmin took the opportunity to wriggle out of Jisung’s tight grasp. Han scoffed, and threw of his coat, rolling up his sleeves as well. “You will certainly regret doing that.” The crowd cheered as Han took a strike. His slim form allowed him to move with agility and strike with force. It was clear that Seungmin was done for. 

Another person burst through the crowd as Han threw Seungmin off of him. Minho caught his steward, pulling him up by the arm. He took Seungmin’s cheek in his hand and examined the boy’s beaten face, before handing him off to another footman. His glare then targeted the Colonel who stood out of breath and dark brown hair tousled. 

“How dare you assault my boy?” Minho screamed, pointing a finger at Mr. Han. “Do not jump to assumptions, my friend. Your boy att-” “First you try to seduce my fiancee in front of the entire town- then you assault my aide!” Han let out a breathy laugh before pointing at himself. “Me? You think I would ever be interested in the a woman such as Miss L/n?” His finger moved to point at me, but my glare in his direction was ignored. 

“Your man attacked mine first! It is you who needs to apologize! I will not have my staff humiliated and beaten by scum like you or your servants.” Han said beginning to get an almost erratic look in his eyes. “That’s it,” Minho said throwing his coat onto the ground. Without hesitation he leaped into the fight. The crowd cheered them on as I watched in horror.

“Stop! Stop this right now!” I screamed, but no one listened. Mr. Lee’s fist connected with Han’s temple, making his eyes go dark for a moment, before returning. Mr. Lee took the opportunity to throw Han over his shoulder and onto the ground before my feet. 

“Mr. Lee, stop right this instant! Both of you! There is no use fighting over me! this is complete nonsense.” Mr. Han’s eyes rolled over to me as he sat up. He winced as he moved to stand up. It took all of my power not to break his stare. 

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn about you.”

Why did his words wound me? The hurt must have shown on my face for a brief moment because once again his eyes softened. Before he could say something Mr. Lee took a cheap shot, his fist flying across Han’s cheek. My eyes did not fail to miss the drops of blood that landed on the dirt. Han wasted no time in fighting back. 

“ENOUGH!” I screamed. Reputation be damned. I was finished. I had enough. Storming up, with all my strength I pushed the men apart. The two seemed insistent on continuing the brawl. The only thing stopping the Colonel from destroying Mr. Lee was my hands pushing against his shoulders. “You know nothing about me!” My loathsome future fiancee shouted.

“You are only trying to buy her from her father; like she is some prize!” Han sneered. “She is not some timepiece or your stupid pet!” Hearing a yell from Mr. Lee I turned to stop him only to feel a strike against my head. My vision started to blur and my head started to spin before I felt myself fall to the ground. 

Every person froze. Mr. Lee and the Colonel watched in horror as I collapsed to the ground barely conscious. Not a second later Chan burst through the crowd with Cecilia in tow, breaking up the fight. She gasped seeing my body on the ground. Quickly she rushed to my side and cradled my head in her lap. 

“Quick! Someone help!” Felix, still recovering from his beating, rushed over without hesitating. With some struggle, he got my partially limp body in his arms as Cecilia led him to where our carriage should have been. Han seemed to snap out of his shock, and he rushed to Felix’s side. “Mr. L/n took their carriage. Felix, we’ll go in ours.” Nodding, Felix turned and rushed to the Colonel’s cab and gently placed me on the seat. Cecilia placed my head in her lap as Han jumped into the cab with us, worry painted all over his face. 

Felix jumped up into the coach’s seat. Han pounded on the carriage wall and screamed for Felix to go. “Felix, hurry! To Whitewater. Take the back road it’s  faster!”  Han prayed that they could return to my estate fast enough to call a doctor. When the carriage pulled to a stop, the Colonel took me from Cecilia’s lap and held me in his arms, letting my head roll onto his chest. 

“Into the house! Carson! Carson, call the physician!”

Mr. Han carried me up the steps of the porch and impatiently yelled at Felix to hold the door. The poor boy rushed up and let Han carry me through the doorway. Han cautiously handed my semi-conscious body over to Carson. His brow furrowed, concern flooding his features as he watched my loving staff rush to my aid. Carson placed me gently on a sofa  and Cecilia carefully undid the tight curls in my hair so my head had somewhat less pain. 

 Han could do nothing but stand off to the side watching in distress. “Miss Bang...please let me offer my assistance-”

“You have done enough,”

Cecilia did not mean her words to come out as harsh as they did. He knew that. He scolded himself at his thoughts. ‘If only Y/n had not gotten in the way.’ ‘Lee Minho will pay for what he has done.’ A touch on his shoulder brought him back to reality. Turning he saw Felix, a frown on his face. “Sir, we should return to Ruxfield. I will be sure to inquire of Miss L/n’s health in the morning.” Almost as if he was giving him no choice, Felix guided the Colonel back to his carriage and the two departed. 

The next morning I awoke to find both Cecilia and Harriet sleeping beside me. Harriet even in her sleep was still holding cloth wrapped ice to my forehead. Sensing my movement, Harriet woke up and asked millions of questions about how I was feeling. 

Cecilia then woke up not long after. She recounted what happened  after the fight and then left to let me change for the day. The next week went by with no word from the Colonel. Felix came by the first morning to give his apologies at the Colonel’s request. Sadly, Mr. Lee visited almost daily. I had taken to sketching in the book gifted to me by my sister, hoping this would come as a distraction from remembering certain interactions from that night. 

The afternoon was perfect. A light rain had come in the morning, leaving droplets on the the flowers in the garden. Now the sun was out and shining, as I sat on a bench outside with my sketchbook amongst the flowers. “My lady you have a visitor.” Carson said from the stone walkway. The garden had somewhat of a keyhole stone path, with a fountain and stone circle at the center. Mr.Carson stood near the fountain. Through the water you could see the outline of a man’s over coat. “If it is Mr. Lee send him away. I am in no mood to entertain him today.”

“Mr. Lee is not the one asking for visitation,” A smooth deep voice spoke as its owner moved from behind the fountain. 

Colonel Han stood a little in front of Carson, looking at you with a serious expression. The same he wore every day of his entire life, except it his eyes. His eyes once again held that softness, as if it was a sight only you could bring out of him. “I’d have to jump off a bridge if I was that cat loving bigot.”  A hint of a smile slid onto his lips. 

He was correct. Mr. Han was nothing like Mr. Lee. Han was rough. He had edges. He never primped himself like Mr.Lee did. I couldn’t help but drink him in. His dark hair was shaggy and he only wore a simple shirt and the old navy overcoat he seemingly never took off. His boots were dirty and scuffed, but well taken care of. A sign of his daring acts but military discipline. A blush came over my cheeks as I remembered the feeling of dancing with him, his chest against my back.

“Jis- Colonel... to what do I owe the pleasure.” I closed my sketchbook and placed it beside me on the stone bench. “Papa is in London, but he should return by nightfall.” In all of my life I had never been nervous in front of a man other than my father. I believed a woman should be a strong and elegant vision, not simply standing behind a man but beside him if at all. So why could I not meet Mr. Han’s eyes. 

“I’m not here to see your father. I’m here to see you.”

My eyes widened at his words. Nothing was different about him. He still stood straight with his arms behind his back, keeping a respectable distance form me. His face remained stoic as if he was reading from a war plan. “Thank you, Carson. You may leave us,” 

It was Han’s turn to be flustered upon hearing my words. Being the respectful man he was he always adhered to the social protocol of a woman and man never being alone unless with a chaperone. Carson raised his brow in question, but complied, entering the house.

A moment of awkward silence followed. Then another. And another. It was almost like Mr. Han had lost the ability to function after being alone with me. Nervously, I played with the fabric of my dress. What could he possibly want to discuss with me. We have hardly had a pleasant conversation in our entire lives. “Miss Ln-” His words halted when I looked up at him. His eyes went immediately to my face. I knew exactly what he was looking at. The bruise from that night. It was lighter now, having had a week to heal, but still visible.

“Oh Y/n...” He reached out as if to touch my face, but thought better of it and pulled back. There was no longer a wide expanse between us. He now stood only a few feet away from where I sat.  “We are not even wed, and yet I have already forsaken you and broken a valiant code...” He muttered under an aggravated sigh.

He was grateful that I didn’t hear it. “If you are indeed here for me, please enlighten me of your purpose for I am in the dark.” I said pushing a strand of loose hair around my face. As he opened his mouth to speak a deep voice called his name. 

“Colonel Han!”

Felix came running out of Whitewater. He was out of breath and his hair and clothes were out of place, like he had just gotten off his horse. He handed on a sealed envelope and whispered something in Mr. Han’s ear.  Immediately, Han opened the letter with his long nimble fingers. His eyes quickly scanned the letter, leaving me in anxious silence. 

“What is it?” I asked on the edge of my seat. Han handed the letter back to Felix and whispered something back to him. Felix spared me a glance before leaving us alone. 

The Colonel raked a hand through his already slightly disheveled hair and turned his back to me. Something was compelling me to reach out to him. “Jisung,” He turned at the sound of his name. My mind had yet to register the fact this was the first time I had actually said his name. He on the other hand, did notice.

“What is the matter?” He sighed and looked back at the house. Felix was standing by the door, discussing something with Carson. “Napoleon has resumed his advances on the border.” It took me a moment for me to process the information. This was news that was not for me to hear. “Why-”

“They are calling me to the front line.”

I couldn’t speak.

“Felix gave me my orders just now. I leave in the morning.”

This meant so many things. This meant our country was once again at war with France. It meant Father would have to stay in London. It meant Mr. Han would be sent to the heat of the battle commanding easily a thousand men in combat. It meant Jisung...was being sent into battle that he might not come back from.

Why did I even care? I was in line to be engaged. Granted it was to a spinless snob I practically loathed. “I may be a bitter married woman when you returned. Then our arguments will be that much more interesting.” Another look flashed across his face. Almost like he was disappointed that was what I had chosen to say. Like he had wished I had asked him to stay.

“Let’s hope for the both of us that is not true when I return.”

Before I could understand his words Felix returned, this time with Carson behind him. He came to Mr. Han’s side and urgently whispered something in his ear. Han nodded and brushed him off before turning back to me, his eyes growing soft. Gently, he took my hand. All I could do was watch as he brought it up to his lips and softly kissed my knuckles. 

It was an action I had experienced many times from many men. All seeking for my hand in marriage. But this. This was different. This felt intimate. Like the kiss was burning itself into my skin as if to mark me for life. His eyes joined mine as he pulled away. 

“Colonel, we have to go.” Felix said breaking the silence. Han slid his hand from mine and he turned to follow Felix back to Ruxfield to prepare for is departure. My body could do nothing but watch him leave.

“You’re all grown up now, Miss Y/n.” Carson said. He had the kindest smile on his face as he came to sit on the bench, pulling me down with him. “What do you mean, Carson?” He sighed, taking my hand in his. Carson was nothing like my father. He and my mother were very close and Mr. Carson always seemed like a real father figure in my life. He was the one who taught me to dance, and what books I should read, and even how to play poker. 

“You are falling in love. I would know that look anywhere.” Love? With the Colonel. Impossible. I despised him. Right? “I am not in love. If I was in love I would be getting married.” He chuckled and patted my hand. “Aren’t you though?”

“Carson, do you see me voluntarily marrying that mess of a man?”

“Are you speaking of Lord Lee or Colonel Han?”

Blinking, the thought crossed my mind. Of course I was talking about Mr. Lee right. I was set to marry him. Was Carson saying I should marry Mr. Han? Marrying Colonel Han Jisung. The thought had never crossed my mind. Now that it did, why did my heart swell.

“Of course I’m speaking of Mr. Lee. Father would forbid anyone else.” Carson nodded, looking over the garden. “So, are you saying there is someone else?” He took my silence as an answer, smiling. 

“An unhappy alternative is before you, Y/n. From this day you must be a stranger to one of us. Your father will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Lee, and I would never see you again if you do.” 

A warm, fatherly smile filled his eyes. “Do you love him?” There was no question of who he was talking about. “While I have lost my heart, I shall not lose my self control. I will not become one of those silly girls running around with their heads in the clouds controlled by love.” Carson laughed and picked a flower near the bench.

“Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.” 

Before I could respond I was interrupted by what seemed like the fourth time today. “Y/’n! Y/n!” Cecilia ran out of the house a grin from ear to ear. Emma and Charlotte followed hot on her heels. Her light blue dress blew behind her as she ran over to us. “Y/n, I’m pregnant!” After blinking a few times I wrapped her up in a hug and cheered. Carson joined us and we all went inside to celebrate Cecilia’s news, leaving the conclusion of my conversation with Carson in the back of my mind.

Spring came and went. Soon came the long months of summer and with it came heavy summer storms. The Whitewater creek was filled to capacity and quite dangerous. Father had come home from London and the tensions had been high ever since he returned. Papa seemed hell bent on my marriage to Mr. Lee. 

Every chance he got he brought up the engagement. I was starting to think Carson may have been right. Every mention of Mr.Lee drove me further away from him and made me wonder about another man...far away. 

Another man who didn’t write. Not once. I found myself jumping to the door when Carson delivered our mail to our rooms. Weeks passed and still I heard no word from him. Weeks turned into months until it became the middle of summer. Still no word from the Colonel. Not even to my father about the war. I was beginning to worry something had happened. Certainly he wouldn’t forget about me after a goodbye like that? Why did I even care? I hated the man. Yes, I hated the man. I had all the right to hate him if he wasn’t going to send me even one letter. 

Another summer storm raged outside my window. “Miss you will have to leave your room sometime.” Harriet said, hanging up some of my laundry. “If Cecilia will not leave her room then I too shall not.” Harriet laughed as I watched the water pelt against the glass. “Miss Y/n, your sister is ordered by the doctor to bed rest. Chan is taking care of her. You are simply sulking over your engagement.” 

“I am not sulking over my engagement.”

“Then a certain Colonel perhaps? Maybe the lack of a letter?” 

Before I could correct my friend, Carson knocked on the door and entered. “My lady, your father wishes to speak to you in his study.” I sighed, turning back to the window. “Carson, I am in no mood to speak to Papa.” Harsh winds blew the trees in the forest just outside the estate. “My lady, he is leaving for London in an hour. He is insistent on speaking to you.”

Carson gave me a small smile. He was probably right. It was better to simply speak to him before he left than ignore him until he returned home. With a sigh, I got up from my window seat. Harriet straightened my dress and adjusted the loose but proper style she had done to my hair this morning. I knew exactly what awaited me behind the heavy wooden doors. My knuckles softly wrapped against the oak. 

“Enter,” 

The gruff voice of my father echoed as I opened the door. He sat at his desk writing a letter or some other important document. “Papa, you wanted to talk to me?” I said standing near one of the many bookshelves in his study. “Yes, about your marriage.” 

“Papa. I already told you I will not marry Mr. Lee-”

“The date has been set. You will marry Lee Minho in one month’s time.”

My jaw dropped in disbelief. “Father!” He didn’t even look up from his work. “Do not ‘Father’ me. You knew this was going to happen. You will marry Mr. Lee. You will do as your told. It is your duty as a woman of this household.” What? My what?

“My duty as woman?” 

“Yes.”

“Father, I have no duty as woman. Especially to you. I will not marry a man who I do not love. It is not my duty to obey your every command!” This was when he chose to look at me. His eyes turned cold. “Y/n L/n. You are my daughter. You will do as I say!” Rage filled every inch of my body. “No! I will control my own life! I will not marry him and that is final! Times are changing. It is time you changed with them, Father!” The sound of his chair screeching against the wood floor made me flinch. “We are a family of tradition! I will not let your silly misguided modern values change our family!”

His voice boomed loud enough for the entire estate to hear. “What would mother think of this! She would never-” “DO NOT BRING YOUR MOTHER INTO THIS!” A book  flew across the room. Never the less I stood  my ground, staring straight back at him even though tears threatened to spill over my eyes. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you would just be-” 

“If you are going to continue this kind of behavior then I want you out of Whitewater until you come to your senses!” 

A silence followed; the kind that hurt. The kind you could feel- like needles plunging into your skin. Rain continued to fall on the roof and windows like bullets. 

“So be it.” 

With word I stormed out of the study and towards the door. Shouts from the staff could be heard behind me as I burst through the doors and out into the rain. “My lady! Y/n!” Carson called. My feet carried me to the stables. Grabbing a saddle and mounting the closest horse I rode out into the storm.

Finally able to let tears flow away from any eyes, I screamed. Never had I felt so much agony. My own father was shunning me. The man I admired had abandoned me and was sent to war. The man I despised was forcing me into marriage. My skin burned as harsh rain pelted against it. The wind blew through my hair pulling it loose.

Even through all this pain it felt...freeing. It felt amazing to run through the forest outside of Whitewater, thunder rolling in the air and rain showering down. My heart still wretched in pain. I missed my family, despite our arguments. Most of all I missed Mr. Han, despite our many many differences.

A loud crack boomed through the sky and a flash of white burst in front of my horse. I screamed as the horse  reared, throwing me off its back onto the forest floor. I felt a pain against the back of my head upon impact. The horse sprinted away in fear leaving me stranded. 

“Help!” I screamed into the dark. My legs struggled to hold themselves up and my vision started to become blurry. It became indecipherable what was rain or tears on my cheeks.

The world started to spin as I walked forward. I must have been ‘walking’ for hours. The cold had started to set in and the rain showed no sign of stopping. By now I was miles away from Whitewater and the closest estate was fifteen miles east.

“Help me...” 

My dress was getting heavier and heavier despite the fabric being so light before. It clung to my skin and my hair hung in dark wet strands in front of my face.  Over the thundering storm I thought I heard hoof beats through the forest. I must have been hallucinating. Not being able to hold myself up anymore, I leaned against a tree.

“Y/n?” 

Definitely hallucinating. I was even hearing his voice now. How did I remember what his voice sounded like? Exhaustion started to set in, the pain and cold making my eyes droop and my body feel even heavier. 

“Y/n? Y/n, where are you?” 

Through my blurry vision I thought I saw the outline of a horse and rider wearing a dark navy coat. “Y/n!” My strength was wearing thin. Taking a chance, that it wasn’t my imagination I pushed myself off the tree and stumbled forward. “Oh god! Y/n stay where you are I’m coming!”

Hooves pounded against the ground growing closer. My head started ti spin even more as the rider jumped off his horse and rushed to me. Before I could fall, I was taken in a pair of strong arms. The edges of my vision started to blackout, my hearing came in and out, and my body shivered trying to keep itself warm. The person clutched me to their chest and pushed the wet pieces of hair away from my face, desperation in their deep voice. “Miss L/n? Y/n, can you hear me? I’ve got you now. I’m here.”

My throat felt dry. “The Colonel...he-he didn’t write to me. I’m...I’m still waiting for his letter. I can’t leave...” The rider sighed and I tried to make out his face. “Do you know Colonel Han? He told me not to get married...so I didn’t...” The words came out in slurs but they came out nonetheless. The rider clutched my head to their chest gently. 

“I know, darling, I’m sorry.” He gently laid me on the forest floor and took off his coat wrapping it around me. “I couldn’t even though I wanted to.” Gently he picked me up as if I weighed nothing and moved over to the horse. Through my haze I heard him curse. Even in my state I knew there was no way he could get myself and him on the horse safely. 

“Stay with me, darling.” I tried to focus on the rider’s words as he tried to figure out how to get me to safety. The exhaustion won out, leaving me in the darkness. 

Colonel Han kept his head. He couldn’t panic. Not even when he saw her eyes close shut. “Damn.” His dark hair clung to his forehead as he searched for a solution. She wouldn’t last much longer. Her body was already freezing in his arms. 

His horse was too high to lift her up and Ruxfield was too far to walk. Why was she outside of Whitewater in the first place? In a storm? Whitewater. Whitewater was no more than five miles away. He could make it there. Forgetting about his exhaustion from the ride back from the front line, Jisung adjusted the woman in his arms, resting her head against his chest and his arms under her legs, he began walking all the way back to Whitewater. 

His arms and legs burned as he climbed over the last hill. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw Whitewater in the distance through the rain. “We are almost there, darling. Hold on for me.” He just had to hold on long enough to reach Whitewater. To see Y/n was alright.

With his last burst of energy, Jisung burst through the front doors of Whitewater. “HELP! I need a physician! Someone help!” Several staff including Carson rushed up to him, seeing Y/n in his arms. “Quickly, upstairs!” he said, making a path for Jisung. She shivered in his arms as he carried her down the hall and up the stairs. 

“Harriet call the physician! Tell him it’s an emergency!” A girl he had scene with Y/n before nodded and rushed to call a doctor. “Y/n! Where is she! Y/n!” Cecilia called rushing to the Colonel. “Cecilia, love, move!” Chan said wrapping the woman in his arms. “Where is Father? He should be here!” She said as they moved passed her. “Your father left for London.” Carson said. 

Carson rushed to push open the door to the girl’s bedroom. The Colonel gently placed the girl on her bed and let the staff rush around the room to help her. All he could do was watch as the only woman he had thought about for the past four months lay helpless on her bed, shivering. 

A pair of strong hands pushed him softly out of the room and into the hall. He looked up to find Chan. “Han, you are freezing.” “I am fine,” He tried to get a look back into the room, but a maid closed the door. “You need to rest. You just returned on leave.” 

“Chan I will be fine!” 

Reluctantly, the man left Jisung alone in the hall. He watched as people walked in and out of the room, rushing with towels, blankets, wet clothes, new clothes, even hot kettles. Soon a physician arrived and entered her room. It felt like hours that Jisung had waited outside her door. Finally the girl, Harriet, walked out. She jumped when he grabbed her arm.

“Give me an occupation miss-or I shall go mad.”

Taking in the man’s tired state she handed him a towel. “The doctor says Ms. L/n hit her head and has a serious case of hypothermia.” She watched as Mr. Han sighed and ran a hand through his wet shaggy hair. “Please let me do something. Anything.” All she could offer was the smallest smile. 

“You’ve done all you can possibly do. Thank you for saving my mistress.” 

With a sorrowful nod he watched as she walked away. “We would be happy to set up a room for you, sir. We would be happy to keep you updated on how the lady is doing.” He gave Harriet a kind smile. “That would be very generous, Miss. I’ll only be staying for the two nights, if that is alright. I have orders to return to the line.” With a nod, Harriet went to prepare a room for the Colonel.

During those two days, Mr. Han never left her side. He stayed by her bedside helping Harriet and Cecilia with anything they asked. One the morning of his departure he gave Cecilia the name of his personal carrier. “If there is any change please let me know. The letter will go directly to me.” She nodded and took the piece of parchment watching the Colonel leave once again.

Sunlight streamed through my window. My head pounded and my body still felt cold.  Slowly I slipped out of my bed, feet placing themselves slowly on the cool wood floor. “You are awake!” Cecilia screamed. Rushing over she practically tackled me back onto my bed. “Cecilia, the baby!” “Oh I don’t care you are okay! Thank heavens you are okay!” 

I couldn’t help but smile as she hugged me. “Chan will kill you if you hurt his child before it’s even born.” “Shhhhhhhh! Not now. My sister has returned from the dead.” Laughing she hugged me even harder. 

“Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled away and rushed to my dresser. When she returned she had a letter in her hands. “This came for you yesterday. You have been asleep for almost a week. You needed quite a lot of rest. I don’t blame you.” She handed me the envelope with a small smile. “Wait, where are you going?” I asked as she started to leave my room. “I think I should leave you alone with that.” Something about her smile made me laugh.

My shaking hands opened the letter with my name addressed on it in rough but elegant handwriting. When I opened it the familiar smell of gunpowder and old parchment reached my nose. The same handwriting greeted me as I read the letter.

“Miss Ln,

I have written this letter many times, but have been a coward to not send it. I had hoped I would be home to say this-but it seems Napoleon has different plans than I. 

Miss L/n, I would like to apologize from the bottom of my heart. There were a thousand times I wanted to write to you, but events on the front line prevented me. I would like to apologize for not getting to you sooner that day. I wish I had been there soon for you, my darling. 

I pray that by the time you get this letter you are not yet married to that insolent pitiful disgrace of a man. Though the timing may be off I have something to ask of you. Something to confess...

Miss L/n you have bewitched me- body and soul. To what time I fell so deeply under your spell, I cannot recall. I know not the hour or the spot or the words or even the look that lay the foundation. I was in the middle before I even began. What a proud fool I was. To think my stubbornness was the only thing keeping me from you.  In vain I have struggled, but it will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and...love you.

It seems as if the only thing keeping me alive in this battle is the image of you smile. I would die a thousand deaths for that smile.

I have heard your father’s news of your wedding. I beg of you. Do not follow through. I hope that perhaps there is something I can offer. Miss L/n...should I return, I would like to humbly request for your hand. I know I have no right to you, nor should any man. You are the most strong woman I have ever had the pleasure and fortune of meeting, and to me it makes you the most beautiful woman to walk this earth. 

I hope to hear from you soon, my darling. Until then, I shall be fighting for the day that I do. I long for the day I am home. 

In hope,

Han Jisung”

I sat in disbelief. Colonel Han Jisung had written me a letter professing his love. He proposed... Leaving the letter on my  bed I walked to the window. The audacity. To ask me over a letter? A knock sounded at the door pausing my pacing. “Enter,” Harriet paused when she saw the look on my face. “Miss, what’s the matter.”

“Harry, I believe I have a serious decision to make.” 

 Months passed. Summer turning into mid fall. Father’s supposed wedding date for me had long passed. Each time Mr. Lee had visited Carson had turned him away. More letters from the Colonel had arrived, but they all said the same thing and soon they came to a stop. Cecilia had given birth not to long ago, to a beautiful baby boy. Chan and my sister had named the child Benjamin. 

News came that the war ended, England victorious. Soon I would be expecting a visitor. I sat in the garden with my sketchbook, drawing the few flowers that were left in the beds among other things. A certain face had popped up in the pages of my book several times. “Miss Y/n,” I looked up to see Carson walking down the pathway. 

“You have a visitor.”

A smirk fell across my lips. “Well, I believe I have been expecting him so let us not keep him waiting any longer.” With a smile, Carson returned into the house to fetch my guest. Patiently, I waited for the guest to come out and see me. I heard the sound of boots against the stone pathway and smiled.

“Good afternoon, Colonel.”

“Yes, indeed, Miss L/n.”

There was a nervous expression on his face. Once again he looked like he had just returned from active duty. His dark hair had grown a little longer and he wore the same navy overcoat again. His shirt underneath was covered in black powder and some of the buttons were undone to reveal his tan and slightly toned chest. Yes, definitely just returned. Returned with no time to change apparently. 

Quickly I brought my attention back to my sketchbook in hopes that it would hide the heat spreading on my cheeks. “Did...you receive my letters?” Self control regained, I turned my attention back to Mr. Han. “Why yes, Colonel Han, I did in fact receive several letters.”

“And you are not married...”

“No, I am not.”

The man stood perfectly still in military fashion, his hands clasped behind his back. “Well are you going to speak? You certainly did not come to Whitewater just to stare at me did you?” Shock crossed Han’s face. It was evident he had not expected me to speak to him like this. It was fun to see the stoic Colonel flustered. 

“I came to ask you response. You never wrote back to me.” I shrugged, getting off the bench. “Response? I don’t remember ever being properly asked a question.” He sighed running a hand through his hair, a habit that I had missed while he was away. “I do recall asking-” “No, Colonel Han. You requested. You, sir, never asked me anything. So why should I dignify you with a response.” 

Maybe it was the smile, or the slight twinkle in my eye, but he laughed. A sound that I had never heard from the man. It made me want to memorize every sound and feature of his face when he laughed. “Then, should I ask you properly, Miss L/n?” It was a genuine question, not of simple jest. “There is no harm in questions.” He took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. 

“Miss L/n, will you please allow me the great honor of making you my wife?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

His eyes widened at my quick response. “I’m sorry Colonel, but I cannot promise to be any man’s wife who sits prettily in a corner and who is expected to obey every word he says. I won’t be expected to just sit around waiting for you-...him- to come home.” 

“Wherever you are is my home; my only home.”

There was sincerity in his eyes. Love. “Mr. Han,” He sighed taking my hands in his. Though his touch was still unfamiliar, it felt sure and safe. “Miss L/n, please let me speak.” He practically begged. I waited silent for him to continue.

“I am half in hope and half in agony. If your feelings are still what I assumed they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged but one word from you will silence me on the subject forever.” He searched my eyes for an answer. 

“Miss L/n, I am in love with you more than you will ever know. I want nothing more than to be with you. To wake up to every morning- to fall asleep next to you every night. To stand next to me, not behind me. I am in love with your wit, and your charm, and how you always keep me on my toes more than any battle ever has. I am in love with your modern values and your spontaneity.” Han’s hands were rough against mine, his slender fingers ghosting over my skin.

“Y/n...Will you marry me, and do me the honor of letting me be your husband?”

Han’s dark eyes looked into mine- indeed half in agony and half in hope. He looked at me as if everything in the world that mattered to him was standing in front of him. The look in his eyes couldn’t help but make me smile. I was in love with Colonel Han Jisung and it couldn’t be helped.

“Yes,”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” He asked. “Of course.” He smiled and looked down at his hands still gently holding mine. “May I?” He asked softly, glancing between my eyes and my lips. It only took a small nod for him to act, pressing his lips softly onto mine. My head begin to feel dizzy in the best way. His fingers traveled up the bare skin of my arms and then down to rest on my waist, bringing me closer. Han smiled as my hands pressed against his chest, kissing him back. 

“I love you, Jisung. With all my heart.”

“It took you long enough to say it, my darling.”

El Fin

Requests are open my lovelies!

Masterlist

[thehangeddemon]

Playing with Fire || Master Maxi || March, 1958

Maximus: Maximus hesitated just outside of the office. The day's mail stacked neatly on a silver tray, newly polished. He hovered only because of Xavier's stance, awaiting to be noticed.

Xavier: Xavier was rubbing his forehead and temples in rhythmic little circles, a distinct furrow to his brow that said the universe was sorely testing him this day.

It was when he leaned back in his chair to heave a great sigh that he noticed Maximus and some of that annoyance melted away. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked with an apologetic smile.

Maximus: "Long enough to know better." Only then would he enter, lowering enough for his master to inspect the tray. An invitation, news, bills. Maximus waited quietly for inspection of each letter being speaking.

"May I ask what is troubling you, m'lord?"

Xavier: He took the mail from the tray with a nod of thanks. Bills went in the To Do pile, the news in the To Read pile, and the invitation in front of him.

"I received a call from an associate of mine in Riyadh. He handles my exports from that part of the world and a few years ago I invested in his business. Ever since, he comes to me with any and all business ideas he comes up with hoping I'll invest."

Maximus: "Not very keen, m'lord?" Given the strain around his eyes, and the massage of his temples. As much as he wanted to ask about the invitation, he refrained, placing the tray under his arm.

"Will that be all?"

Xavier: "I was, once upon a time, when the ideas actually bore fruit and effort was put into ensuring so. Now the ideas become more harebrained with every passing year, but he never presents them that way." Xavier grabbed his letter opener. "He makes each one sound more grand than the last, never wants to take no for an answer. If I were alive he'd have taken years off my life by now."

He opened the invitation, scanned it briefly. "Speaking of grand."

Maximus: Maximus wondered what sort of ideas this man had, and silently tickled at the idea of Xavier's irritation with anything so far from serious. Something rather human to stir things.

"A party, this time of year?"

Xavier: "It would appear so. An exhibition of classical art to be followed by an auction. It's being hosted by Haskell, that insufferable bon vivant we met in Los Angeles. You know the one. Old, old money banker who sold me the chandelier in the drawing room some time ago."

Maximus: He remembered. The man had leather for skin, and glasses far too thick. The way he stared, as though right through and beyond. He didn't much care for him.

"Do you wish to accept?"

Xavier: Xavier sighed and considered for a moment. Did he want to endure an entire evening listening to that dandy boast and hold court?

"Not particularly." He smiled. "But I do wish to avail myself of the contents of Haskell's wine cellar."

Maximus: "You do enjoy playing with fire at every opportunity." Bold words for eyes submissive to the ground.

Xavier: He chuckled. "It's Haskell who's playing with fire by sending this invitation. He knows damn well he squeezed me for every cent he could for that chandelier. No doubt he's hoping I'll part with several hundred more of my dollars on this little auction of his."

Maximus: "May I ask what the auction is for? Does the invitation say?"

Xavier: The invitation was consulted. "He claimed the proceeds will benefit the hospital but that is a damnable lie. The hospital will see a fraction of the proceeds, if that, and the rest will go into Haskell's pocket. How do you think he's managed to afford that ridiculous mansion?"

Maximus: This made his butler frown. "I see. Then I will not waste energy encouraging your presence."

Xavier: He grinned. "Would you like to go to Los Angeles? We can steal Haskell's wine, give a bigger donation to the hospital to spite him, and go to the pictures. There's nothing quite like going to the pictures in Hollywood."

Maximus: "In all my years, I can't recall having ever been." And his first experience would be with Xavier. He very much liked the idea, but these were duty hours, so his smile was that of poise.

"You had me at donation, m'lord."

2:54 AM] Xavier: "Excellent!" Xavier took the RSVP card out of the envelope and reached for his pen to fill it out. "Please see that this gets returned and find me the name of the lowest quality vineyard in the state."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." The tray was lowered for the invitation's return. He didn't expect to see the fruits of this labor. Only to hear about the fruition of his schemes, and he looked forward to such tales.

"I would like to ask your opinion on something as well, if you have a moment to spare."

Xavier: "Please, by all means." Xavier was in considerably better spirits than he'd been a few minutes ago and it showed clearly in his expression in demeanor. All the annoyance had turned to warmth and welcome, and both were directed at the beautiful man before him.

Maximus: "I apologize for not inquiring sooner, but, do you have a preference towards wild game?"

Xavier: “I don’t favor any particular type but I’ve always enjoyed venison.”

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord. Will that be all?"

Xavier: "Yes, darling, thank you. Bring me the name of that vineyard as soon as possible, preferably before the party."

Maximus: The darling caught him off guard so early in the morning. He blinked, but offered nothing of his thoughts physically. A bow of obedience, and he turned from the room. Wild game, he decided, would be served for lunch. Something elegant, of course, but unusual. It was time for a split of body. Cooking, research, and to tend the garden.

Xavier: Xavier smiled at Maximus' retreating back until he was out of sight before turning his attention to the mail. What needed reading was read, what needed paying was paid, and a letter was written to a certain associate telling him in no uncertain terms that Xavier's patience for harebrained schemes had been completely exhausted.

He gathered everything up and went to put it with the rest of the mail. And maybe look for Maximus.

Maximus: One of those he sought was in the kitchen chopping carrots and celery. The usual mise en place accompanying a French inspired dish. Another duplicate with rolled sleeves visible from the kitchen window, tending the garden pulling weeds.

The real Maximus Fairchild was in his modest office. Research, as commanded, with the phone to his ear.

Xavier: Xavier smiled as he spotted each of his butler’s shadows, not surprised to see them. When Maximus had a pressing task he always preferred to attend to it personally, like the little project Xavier had given him.

The question now was, did he watch the shadow cooking or the one gardening?

A few moments to decide and he was stepping into the kitchen.

“Hello, my dear,” he greeted, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Would you mind some company?”

Maximus: The duplicate looked up from his scrutinized knife. Almost the same man. Absent voice, but not expression. Free by a margin to smile as though off duty.

Maximus #2 pointed to a large bowl by the long sink. A skinned hare, fresh from market before Xavier opened his eyes that morning.

Xavier: “Such a beautiful smile,” he said, barely resisting the urge to kiss it before walking over to the sink.

“Ah, this explains the question about wild game. It appears we’re to have a very excellent lunch indeed.”

Maximus: Still as modest as the original. This Maximus paused, basked a moment in praise before pushing it aside with scolding eyes.

Xavier: Xavier laughed softly. “I’ll behave, you have my word. I’m simply here to observe. You’re miles more alluring than anything I have on my desk.”

Maximus: Even a mimicry with base faculties was enough of a truth to bristle at such flattery. He pointed in the direction of the office.

Xavier: “Very well, I’ll leave you to your work.” Beautiful shadow of my beautiful Maximus.

He tamped down another urge, this time to brush his lips against the shadow’s cheek, and went to knock on Maximus’ door.

1:10 PM] Maximus: The office was modest, despite encouragement of his master. Decorated with a framed original photograph of the estate on the east wall, and a portrait of a mother and child found in the attic on the east. Nothing personal. Despite budding intimacy, doubt lingered whether or not a Fairchild or Berti might be neatly displayed in the upcoming months, years.

Maximus looked up from a simple brown book, telephone handset returned as he stood.

"Yes, m'lord?"

Xavier: Xavier leaned against the doorframe and smiled softly. At Maximus, at the simple decor, at the phone and the book.

What he wanted to say was, we’ve been apart for an hour and I missed you. I feel...needy for your company today and I’m not quite sure why. I want you to set work aside for the day and come sit in my lap where I can kiss and hold you. I want you to smile at me, talk to me in your soft, gentle way. I want to see the blush on your cheeks when I compliment you. I want you to ask me for the moon and I want to get it for you. I want you to feel needy for me, too.

What he said was, “How is your search coming?”

Maximus: His butler could only decipher so much, but that long stare did something to his insides. The room was suddenly too warm.

"The list is nearly complete. Two more calls to make. A budding vineyard to the south gave interest to inquiry. I thought it might be worth your investment, or ill-considered to neglect informing you."

Xavier: He nodded, and tramped down his third urge in as many minutes. “That was good thought. A budding vineyard might be exactly what I’m looking for, or a worthy investment as you said.” Another nod. “Excellent work, thank you. I’ll leave you to it.”

Maximus: Where Maximus should have bowed his head and returned to his seat, he lingered.

"Is there something else I might do for you? Or... one of them?"

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. “No, thank you, I’m...I’m fine. I might take a short drive before lunch.”

Maximus: "As you so often remind me, I am more than your servant. I am your assistant. Allow me to be concerned for a moment, and serve you as my choosing."

Xavier: Maximus was offered another smile. “I’ll allow you, and I appreciate your concern. I suppose I’m simply in a restless mood this morning.”

Maximus: "Perhaps, instead of a drive... a walk?"

Xavier: “Perhaps that’s a better idea. Would you—?”

Maximus: "I would love to accompany you."

Xavier: He offered his arm. “Around the garden?”

Maximus: "I am off duty in the meantime?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Yes. For the walk, and perhaps to join me for lunch?”

Maximus: Such proposal prevented the removal of his watch. Lunch was nowhere near finished; neither were monotonous chores worthy of his duplicates. His hand came away from his wrist.

"Delighted." His first undressed smile of the day.

Xavier: That smile made him feel like a drowning man being given breath again.

He returned it in kind. “Marvelous. Come, let’s get some fresh air.”

Maximus: Papers were quickly straightened. Pen used as a bookmark for the phone book and set aside. Off duty, he told himself. His own idea, he repeated. He didn't know what to do with his hands. A coat? Loosen his tie? Nothing seemed more appropriate than consistency.

"Just the garden?"

Xavier: “The garden, the grounds. Perhaps the woods. We’ll see where our feet carry us. It’s a lovely day; we ought to enjoy as much of it as we can.”

Maximus: Seemed fanciful, but as he'd come to learn, not so unlike this young demon.

No coat, only a change of shoes before holding the door. Some standards would not shake. The garden had expanded since winter. Herbs dominated much of the landscape leading to the house. Roses and shrubs lining the walk towards the various statues. Tomatoes and other less visually stimulating like were out of sight by design.

"If I were to ask you to spill your thoughts, would you?"

Xavier: It was as proper as an English garden could be. Tea roses, winding paths, statues, vegetables, a fountain. It was what the manor deserved after so many years of neglect.

“Just now I’m thinking what a beautiful job you’ve done out here.”

Maximus: Not what he'd expected, but he would take it. "These were your choices." For the most part. The flowers, with the exception of tenderly minded magnolias.

Xavier: "And you took those selections and created a garden worthy of the estate it surrounds. You should be very proud, Maximus."

Maximus: "That's the word I'm looking for," he smiled. "I'd like to hear more of your thoughts, if you'd allow me."

Xavier: "I'm also wondering how long it will take Haskell to realize his wine collection is worthless after I replace all the wine with whatever vineyard is chosen for the deception."

Maximus: "Rather than leaving his stock barren, your sense of humor is to replace with inferior. As you do artistic masterpieces."

Xavier: Xavier grinned. "Indeed. And like with artistic masterpieces, they will receive a better home and proper appreciation. Haskell, on the other hand, will be humiliated in front of those whose coattails he seeks to ride and will have an absolute conniption thinking he essentially tossed thousands of dollars down a hole."

Maximus: Is he really deserving of such punishment, he thought. He felt it best not to ask. Despite the careful distance their relationship had crossed, Xavier was still master. Trust was a fickle creature. It was of little concern; he didn't actually care.

"You spoke to my copies again today."

Xavier: This particular punishment was merely intended to knock Howard Haskell down a few pegs and back to where he rightfully belonged. There was nothing Xavier hated so much as hubris that hadn't been earned.

He nodded, smile still in place. "I did, yes. I always speak to them when I see them."

Maximus: "I'm not sure I understand your reasoning. They offer little." They were tools, nothing more in his belief, which made Xavier's insistence fascinating and confounding.

Xavier: "They offer more than meets the eye." More than once, talking to Maximus' shadows offered the chance to see that beautiful smile without a hint of reservation.

Maximus: He saw each and every one-sided conversation. With every broken spell, each memory of his duplicates became his own. What was once used as a torment, now became a source of entertainment.

"You could always speak to me, if you need an ear."

Xavier: His smile gentled. "Thank you," he said softly. "I sincerely appreciate it. I don't often find myself having that need, but when I do...thank you, Maximus. For the offer and...for walking with me."

Maximus: "It's less out of obligation than you might think."

Xavier: "At the risk of flattering myself, I don't think it's out of obligation at all."

Maximus: "You've taken a great risk. Haskell would be impressed."

Xavier: Xavier chuckled. "Haskell's risks aren't really risks. They're calculated to appear that way."

Maximus: "Yours are true?"

Xavier: He nodded. "There was a very good chance coming with me and lending me an ear was due to a sense of obligation."

Maximus: "We still walk that fine line of mystery."

Xavier: “We do indeed. And I take great risks and hope for the best.”

Maximus: "You risk believing there is no risk," he smiled.

Xavier: “Oh believe me, I could never. It’s always very present in my mind.”

Maximus: He wanted an elaboration, but would not ask.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Xavier: “Much better, yes. You’re a very great help.”

Maximus: "You're very generous as usual, Xavier."

Xavier: Hearing his name from Maximus’ lips brought a rush of such affection it was a wonder he didn’t pull the man into his arms without a second thought.

“It’s sincere. Talking to you makes my mind feel quieter, more calm.”

Maximus: "I'm...honored." But what he wanted to ask was why, and how, as he felt he offered nothing significant.

Xavier: Xavier turned to study his companion for a moment. “May I be so bold as to say you’re also...curious?”

Maximus: "I'm curious?"

1:57 AM] Xavier: “About why you calm my mind. It feels as though you want to ask me something.”

Maximus: You cannot read my mind, he reminded himself. "I have a readable face." This much was honest.

Xavier: “You do, but it’s more than that. We have a bond. We’re...in tune with each other.”

Maximus: "You think so?"

Xavier: “I do. I can feel it when I’m near you and when we’re apart, when we’re speaking or sitting in silence.”

Maximus: "That's perhaps the bond of servitude." A jest, but his smile was meek. One might regard as shy.

Xavier: Xavier simply returned the smile and offered Maximus his hand. It was fine if he didn’t take it; but Xavier felt the need to offer it.

Maximus: The hand was given a second of regard before taking. Not because this was his master, but because he wanted to. He wondered if Xavier truly understood.

Xavier: Perhaps Xavier could never fully understand, but he understood that this was a man who was rightfully cautious, who'd been hurt in unimaginable ways, and still accepted his hand.

He brought it to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on Maximus' knuckles.

Maximus: Maximus watched against his will. This was his hand being lovingly cared for, and those were Xavier's lips. There was no greater affection, and after months of such treatment, he was sure more than anything else that Xavier knew.

"It...smells like wood polish. Forgive me."

Xavier: “The wood polish you use smells like lemons. I’ve nothing to forgive.” He offered another kiss, this time to Maximus’ palm.

Maximus: Air demanded to leave his lungs in one warm escape. The emptiness felt at the bottom of his ribs made him feel more alive. Pain often did in the most unpleasant times, but in the moment, only made him more aware of Xavier's presence.

"How far shall we walk?"

Xavier: He was starting to get a decent gauge of the reverence and meaning this sort of affection had for Maximus. All the more reason for Xavier to offer as much as possible, when possible. "Perhaps to the edge of the estate and back? I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to have lunch in the garden. It really is a lovely day, it'd be a shame not to enjoy it as much as we can."

Maximus: Xavier was a painting. Spoke like a gentleman, poised, tailored like a gentleman, but months together he began to see the forgery. What was beneath was less impressionist and more abstract. At the moment it was lovely.

"Would stewed hare be inappropriate for a garden lunch? I'll see to an alteration. Something lighter."

Xavier: "We rule all that we survey, my dear." He smiled. "We get to decide what is appropriate. And from what preparations I could see in the kitchen, I'm very much looking forward to that stewed hare."

Maximus: "It is an hour until lunch. To the edge of the property and back?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "To the edge and back. Tell me, do you think there's a good spot for some sort of garden folly or a gazebo?"

Maximus: "Certainly. This small clearing here," he pointed where the sun intended to set, just shy of the woods. "It's away from the house, but not far from the garden. Leaves the expanse of the lawn to admire, without having to see the driveway."

Xavier: Xavier considered for a moment and nodded. "You're right," he said with a smile. "That's the perfect place for it. Although looking at it, a folly seems like a much better use of the space than a gazebo. Something that wisteria or perhaps star jasmine can climb."

Maximus: "I think jasmine is an excellent idea. I'll begin the necessary arrangements. There, you think?" He pointed to where the garden ended shy of the woods, a corner of sorts. Even still, despite the calm, he sometimes had to correct his speech. No 'm'lord' here. He wondered if he would ever accept Xavier's supposed intention.

Xavier: “Let’s get a closer look.”

Xavier led Maximus over to the spot, walking around and picturing the potential structure and how it would look from the windows.

“Yes, this is the perfect place. Stone and wrought iron, I think, something very intricate. I trust you to find the perfect craftspeople.”

Maximus: "You're certain of iron?"

Xavier: “I rather like the idea of the sun casting filigreed shadows on the stone beneath. Do you have another material in mind?”

Maximus: "I don't want you to burn yourself. If perhaps it were painted?"

Xavier: "Ah, yes, you're right. For both our sakes, we shall have the iron painted black."

Maximus: "Are you efficient with drawing? Something I could show a contractor."

Xavier: “Efficient enough to give a contractor a decent idea of what I’m looking for. I might have to peruse my library for some inspiration.”

Maximus: "Very good." M'lord. "Something that will feel as timeless as the estate itself. Perhaps a winding stone walkway?"

Xavier: “I do like the idea of a walkway leading up to the structure. Perhaps with ornamental plants surrounding it.”

Maximus: "I'll see to it as well."

Xavier: “What would you like to plant along the path?”

Maximus: Maximus looked up, considering the shade. "I'm no expert on the subject, but, I believe leaving color to the garden here," he pointed back, "leaves less competition for the eye. Ferns, or something equally lush. The very least, creeping thyme."

Xavier: "Some ferns would look rather nice. The thyme as well. We shall see which one suits better when we choose the stone for the walkway." He thought for a moment. "If memory serves, there's an excellent stone mason in Los Angeles."

Maximus: Maximus frowned but nodded. Eyes thoughtful. "If I may be so bold, I find myself confused every instance it seems my opinions are valued."

Xavier: Xavier offered a smile. “Is it still so foreign after we’ve set this house to rights together?”

Maximus: "I've been made to do many things by various masters, but never trusted with an estate."

Xavier: “I trust you implicitly with this estate, Maximus. Not to mention my meals and my wardrobe.”

Maximus: "I couldn't poison your food if I wanted to," he smiled.

Xavier: “With your cooking? It’d be worth it.”

Maximus: "Your praise borders on cloying, Master Xavier."

Xavier: He chuckled. “I’d apologize if I didn’t think very highly of your cooking. And you know I’m a man who appreciates good food.”

Maximus: "I don't expect apologies when your words hold meaning to you."

Xavier: "They do." He found himself kissing Maximus' hand again. "I sincerely appreciate and value your opinions. Your input is something I treasure."

Maximus: Their pace slowed as Xavier indulged himself. Moments like this, words were too elusive to pluck from the air. Just emotion. Enticed by self-imposed mystery, but stayed by caution. Rarely was something hidden behind his eyes, but Maximus expected something. He would be foolish not to.

Flowery words, he told himself. Flattery from a charming demon. He should have been made at the crossroads.

"I'm honored."

Xavier: Perhaps he would be foolish not to, but the only thing behind Xavier's eyes was affection. Sincere, abiding affection.

"And I'm honored that you feel comfortable enough to give your input, even if it confuses you when it's taken to heart."

Maximus: He didn't want to spoil things by saying refusal was smaller than a crawlspace. Instead, he smiled, content to his silence and what his expression could offer.

Xavier: As staying on this subject would only serve to make Maximus uncomfortable, Xavier chose to move on for now.

"This is going to look lovely when it's finished. As will the road to the house when the wildflowers bloom."

Maximus: "You're in favor of a manicured lawn, or would you be interested in ground cover flowers?"

Xavier: "I'm in favor of both, though both have their place. I quite like the lawn surrounding the estate but lawn looks out of place on the roadside."

Maximus: "Very French," he smiled. "I agree, both have their place. I'm in favor of the backyard being as lush as we intend."

Xavier: “It will be when we’re done with it, we’ll put Versailles to shame. I rather like the idea of having a couple more statutes as well.”

Maximus: "There is enough space for a hedge maze as well, if your desire is a statement."

Xavier: “It’s tempting,” he chuckled. “But the sight of the woods beyond the garden is impossible to give up. Although some hedges would look nice bordering the drive.”

Maximus: "We could begin the drive with an iron gate, line the drive with hedges or perhaps roses. Something to withstand the drastic seasons."

Xavier: Xavier pictured the final result and smiled. “Perfect. This estate will be grand in every sense of the phrase.”

Maximus: "And when... we have finished, do you intend to throw a grand party celebrating your success?"

Xavier: "This wouldn't be much of a sanctuary if I did that. Perhaps we could have Massimo and his family for dinner. I only trust him with the location of this house."

Maximus: This surprised his servant, studying his profile as they slowly walked, curious what in particular made this home a sanctuary. What was intended for this house.

"I see. Something in New York, perhaps. You should celebrate your achievement."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. “A more private celebration seems more appealing, although perhaps that’s the hermit in me. I always manage to wander off on my own at parties.”

Maximus: "More business deals, wine and beautiful people."

Xavier: You’re the only beautiful people I need, Xavier thought to himself.

“Deals aren’t quite enticing enough for a celebration. Are you opposed to a small dinner party with Massimo’s family?”

Maximus: "I will serve whomever you choose to bring," Maximus said, watching the woods towards the abandoned house.

Xavier: "Perhaps we can also invite my staff at the warehouse. Everyone has been thoroughly vetted and I trust them all. They're good people."

Maximus: "If they can make the travel," he felt the need to point out.

Xavier: “Easily taken care of. I can make travel arrangements for them.”

Maximus: "Very elaborate. I believe my spell will be in order."

Xavier: "Or, there is an alternative."

9:22 PM] Maximus: Maximus slowed and studied the man by his side, curious but unwilling to guess.

Xavier: “We could hire waitstaff for the evening, which would allow you to enjoy the celebration freely.”

Maximus: "Would that not be seen as inappropriate of your assistant to dine as equal?"

Xavier: “Massimo is incredibly fond of you and my employees wouldn’t dare cause such offense.”

Maximus: "I don't believe they would dare such disrespect to you in person, but perhaps it is not in good taste." He watched Xavier a moment. "If I may be so bold to speak my mind this way."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. "Of course you may. And if you truly do not wish to attend a celebration as a guest, you don't have to. I only ask that if you decide against it, it be because you truly wish to attend in your capacity as butler."

Maximus: "I think it's the most appropriate road in which to walk... in public." Their relationship was still so young. Still too soon to openly reveal anything more than professionalism. It was safe.

Xavier: "As you wish, my dear." It didn't feel right to take sole credit for the complete transformation of the estate, but it would feel worse to push Maximus in a way he wasn't ready for.

"It will be a small celebration but grand nonetheless."

Maximus: Finally, he could breathe. For a moment he was concerned, but Xavier's response was as consistent as day one.

"I look forward to assisting in its assembly."

Xavier: "You'll be instrumental in its success. That being said, would you like me to hire waitstaff to assist you for the evening?"

Maximus: "Hire, or borrow from another?"

Xavier: "Hire and thoroughly vet."

Maximus: "By your will. Eight hands are better than six."

Xavier: "Anything at all you need when the time comes, please ask. No expense will be spared."

Maximus: "I wouldn't insult your celebration by offering cheap wine," he smiled.

Xavier: "You couldn't insult my celebration, full stop. Outwardly it might be mine, but privately, it's ours."

Maximus: "That's very kind," said Maximus. He would have worried for repeating himself if not for being so relaxed. Too eased, his equals might argue.

Silence would be sensible for several meters.

Xavier: Xavier didn't mind the silence. During his time with Maximus, he'd come to recognize the different types he affected at different moments. Some silences were companionable, some filled with work and distractions, and others, like this one, affected when there was a fear that too much had been shared. Not always in words, but in manner.

It almost came as a surprise when they reached the edge of the property. Xavier hadn't realized he'd been lost in thought. "Ready to head back, darling?"

Maximus: Seemed the moment had passed. For now. He wouldn't linger on what he had felt and why. Not here in his master's presence.

"I will see to lunch, prep for dining outside, if the idea still appeals."

Xavier: "It does," he said with a nod, sighing contentedly. "I shall go down to the cellar and select a good wine to accompany our meal. All game requires a fine wine."

Maximus: He would dare offer a suggestion. "A bold red, perhaps?"

Xavier: Xavier beamed in approval. "Precisely what I was thinking. We shall lunch like royalty today, my dear."

Maximus: "If there is anything one of my shadows can assist you with, please. You will be quite bored observing my assemblage of lunch."

Xavier: "Actually, now that we're going to be coming into a great deal of wine, some reorganization of the cellar is in order. I'd like to see how much spare room we have."

Maximus: "It is one of the last areas of the house left virtually untouched." He wanted to be there to assist, but preparing the table outside yielded a more intimate future.

Xavier: "And a significant project because of it. I will take one of your shadows down to get a proper lay of the land and we shall discuss over lunch."

Maximus: I shall see you then, he thought, offering nothing more in response than a gentle smile.

Xavier: Xavier was going to take that smile as approval of the plan, and give one in return.

“Very well, my dear. I’ll be down in the cellar. May I kiss your hand again, before you return to duty?”

Maximus: "Am I to return to duty before lunch?" Asked carefully. A timid offering of what could be.

Xavier: He had put forth a great deal of effort to keep his face from smiling too excitedly. Such a careful question could only be met with gentleness.

“I think not,” Xavier murmured. “After lunch will be quite soon enough.”

Maximus: His smile was not quite what Xavier felt. Bedded down as forcefully as Xavier's efforts. "As you wish."

Xavier: “In that case...” He turned to fully face Maximus. “May I kiss you, darling?”

Maximus: He dared look his master in the eyes. There was no harm here. Those eyes, as they had always been, were a safe place.

"You may," said softly.

Xavier: Those eyes were brimming with affection as Xavier gently cradled Maxmius’ face and leaned in to kiss him like he’d wanted to do all day. Feeling and tasting this beautiful man was like satisfying a craving.

Maximus: Every kiss felt the same. Something less than fear and more than elation. Trust deserved but fragile. His lips felt impossibly warm, and he welcomed them with an inaudible sigh. His hands didn't know what to do, other than remain useless at his sides.

Xavier: Xavier could only hope that the day would come when Maximus felt comfortable enough to reach for him, to touch him as much and as long as he wanted without a second thought. He could only hope that someday Maximus would feel comfortable enough to do a lot of things.

Until then Xavier was more than happy to take the lead. They were dancing the world's gentlest, most deliberate waltz, each move fraught with meaning. Each kiss he was allowed was treasured. He took only a little bit at a time, savoring before coming back for more. Never pushing, never demanding.

"Beautiful," he whispered, caressing Maximus' face.

Maximus: Like a dream he was sure wakefulness would steal with cold hateful hands. He was certain this was false. Not any moment, but someday. For now he could lean into the strength of Xavier's stance and welcome his warm merciful hands. Offer a deepening of his affections as his master-in-name caressed his pale face. Reach timidly to place his hand over Xavier's in solidarity.

Xavier: There had been moments when they first began this delicate relationship where Xavier had wondered if he had the strength of will to be gentle, to tamp down his desires and keep from take, take, taking. But he'd soon discovered that when it came to Maximus Fairchild, being gentle was the easiest thing in the world. It came as easy as breathing, and Xavier had slowly begun to realize that the only thing he had to tamp down was the urge to bombard Maximus with his affection a thousand times a day.

He had his moments, of course, he was only human--or had been at one point. But this here? That little touch, the subtle deepening of a kiss? Fuck, it was what he lived for.

Beautiful, he thought again, letting himself stretch the kiss a few more long, lingering moments before regrettably pulling away.

Maximus: Parting had become a bittersweet endeavor. He realized in this moment, taking a step back from Xavier's handsome figure, that their relationship was akin to an arranged marriage, more than that of master and slave. He would rather believe that than the truth. Wondered if in some measure Xavier felt the same. A fantasy which would live in his head as comfort, until the day it would no longer provide sustenance.

"A shadow will be with you shortly."

Xavier: He had to allow himself one final stroke of Maximus' cheek. Just a single one to sustain him until they sat down to eat.

"Very well," he said softly, smiling as he let his hands fall away. "I'll await them down in the cellar." And select one of his best bottles for their meal.

With that fond smile still lighting his face, Xavier started back toward the house.

[andieperrie18]

Gashina: Bruce Wayne x Reader

ii. Gashina: Bruce Wayne X Reader

You have withered, I have bloomed

And it’s over

Even if you wanna come back

-          Gashina by Sunmi

 “I am very-very honored to be recognized by you, Mayor Garcia. And I would very much like to thank all of you people who attended this event.” Eyes still locked, Bruce had already forgotten the existence of his company.

Captured by every inch of her figure, he found it hard to look away as the longing that his heart withheld for the past years boiled up. The need to stumble up the stage just to lock her back in his embrace in front of millions of eyes almost overpowered his mind. Almost.

“I know some of you have been talking to facilitators from all around this room, thinking of who to talk to in buying some of these pieces. But I am sad to say that they are not for sale. Yet.” The other foster children of the philanthropist had already focused on the speaker. Clark stood by their side, writing superbly while keeping track of every syllable that left the woman’s mouth.

“I will be holding a number of exhibits here in Gotham and schedules would be posted very soon so anyone of you can feel free to come by. You can all also buy my works immediately once the Gallery opens.” Applause rained over the crowd to Y/n as she muttered ‘thank you’s’ through the mic. “And I would exclusive would like to thank my dearest friend for having us here today, who else would I will be talking about than YOU!” Y/n’s pointer shot him like a lost bullet and him being the unlucky victim of it.

Applause again roared as he unconsciously nodded to the few people standing before him that acknowledged his presence the moment she called him out. Returning back to the podium to only feel a harsh pinch to see that Y/n had ignored his presents once more. Like a stranger.

“Now before I leave this stage, I would like to call on a particular person that has captured my attention ever since I saw him enter this room.” Y/n continued a poised smile never leaving her lips.

A hand brought Bruce to life as he turned to meet the face of his son

“Bruce, we have to find Damian.” With a weak nod he turned his back from the stage to follow his sons. Not wanting to spare another glance to Y/n.

“Can you please join me at the stage, Damian Wayne.”

And from the familiarity of the name, it took only a mere second before all four men returned their eyes to the direction of the stage.

^^^^^

           “It is such a pleasure to finally see a familiar face again, Hello Alfred.” Y/n smiled, the old butler smiled, “And I you Miss Y/n. You have grown into such a fine woman.”

           After the party, guest started to leave for the night the moment the clock stroke 12 leaving the guest of honor in the company of the Wayne’s. Damian hadn’t left her side the moment he met her by that hallway.

           “I never thought Bruce would have such an influencing woman as a close friend.” Dick eyed you with gleam as he sat by the barstool along with his other two brothers, Damian sitting distinctively close to Y/n’s side. The house Butlers preparing a one of a kind meal. Fried Chicken, Waffles and scrambled eggs. In the middle of the night.

           Bruce watched from an unknown corner as his former childhood best friend associate herself to his children. All four of them completely astounded by your presence and stories about your past adventures.

           “I am extremely close with Martha and Thomas. So close that Bruce and I were almost inseparable. But due to circumstances, I had to leave as I wanted to achieve the bright future that the world that set up for me. I ended up serving for the country for a while and earned recognition from prestigious people here and there. Lastly achieving my dream job.” Admiration sparkled in their eyes as they eye her. “As Dela Cruz said, you got to seize your moment. I took in everything that life would hit me as I crawled my way to where I am now.”

           “Man, with that kind of life. I don’t think anyone had not attempted to ask you out? So any love interest waiting for ya?” Y/n chuckled to Jason’s statement. A statement that caught Bruce’s attention.

           “That is a story for another time children.”

           Y/n and Bruce walked in silence. He decided to accompany her to the entrance, hoping to create a chance to regain connection with the woman.

           “Y/n…” “How are you and Selina? I didn’t see her here tonight.”

           Selina. His stomach churned as she mentions the woman who was the reason why she left him. His guilt made his bile rise to a sickening height that was eating him alive at the moment. She spun to him as he was met by her smile. The one that made his heart skip a beat when he was a kid who was once very lovesick with his best friend.

           “S-she and I had decided to separate since it was best for us. She said she can’t live with the way I live my life.” He wanted Y/n to come back to him. To have her return to that woman who stuck by him.

           “So she left you then… How sad. With that look you have, I could only guess that you finally realized it.” His brow furrowed, head slowly tilting up.

           Like a cold gust of wind slapped his skin, he was struck with a menacing ache to the chest as Y/n’s face gave him the coldest eyes that even he couldn’t summon no matter how angry he was. The reaction reminded him of the times that where he chose Selina instead of the woman that gave him shoulder to cry on. The one who became his pillar to stand once again.

           “Y/n. . . I. . . I don’t how I could explain myself to you. I-“ ---“You don’t need to explain yourself. I must say, flying back here in Gotham was worth it, to say the least.”

           Y/n neared his figure as the space between them disappeared. His lips only a mere inches against his. All the pent up desire rising in himself raged once more. His arm found her waist inside her gold and floral satin jacket. Her breath intoxicating him more and more as he tried to lean for it.

           “I guess you just missed me.” He muttered.

           “I wish I could say that but…” she hooked her free arm around his neck, with a suffocating grip, her leg lifted as it collided to his back sending him down to agonizing pain. Y/n now sitting atop of him. Eyes returning to it once cold glow.

           “I don’t think I want to be part of your life anymore.”

           It only took one sentence as he watched her disappear through the door for his heart to crumble into a million pieces.