#just came into my head for tea and biscuits

[greyworld10]

The darkened apothecary looked menacing from outside, like a shop that will give you a child's beating heart for the right price from somewhere in the backroom if you accent your consonants just right and look meaningfully at the shopkeeper. It was not the place anyone who had even heard of Hero should be, but here Hero was, walking into an unsafe shop that gave them the creeps, like papery spiders skimming down their spine. They tried to peer in through the windows, but couldn't see anything except vague shadows. The shop was probably too dark, and the entrance smelled mildly of mildew so they wondered if it was closed, but the sign declared it open and the absence of cobwebs supported the fact. Hero stepping on the wet mat which released water like a sponge (disgusting) and went inside before they could back out.

The blinding light assaulted their eyes as the smell of lavendar and smoke that burning wood gives off wanted to their nose. Hero blinked several times as the sterile white walls of the apothecary reflected the light from the bulbs. It was more clean and looked and felt more honourable than the shop of the King's own alchemist.

"Coming. Just a second!", said a young man as he slid behind the counter. "What do you need ?"

The Hero was still too dazed to respond as if they were nonplussed, so they asked-

"Are you the owner of this shop?", with a vague gesture.

"Yes, built it myself and uhh... Would you be requiring supplies for travels ? ", he asked as he eyed Hero's garb.

"Your uh.. shop looks umm... quite... different from the outside. "

"Oh yes, you see I wanted to keep the general aesthetic of creepiness but it is really not sanitary you know, had a case of medical equipment crawling with maggots in these parts before... The customer was very angry, well his family was, because he died from them, ate him from the inside. And would that be all ?", he finished with a bright grin.

"Er.. yes ? I mean how much ?"

Looks could be quite deceiving, it seems.

[meowmeowriley]

Simon was not a morning person.

Johnny was.

He'd never have guessed it, Soap and Ghost were up at the crack of dawn on base, barking orders at their men and running themselves just as ragged. Had he never followed Ghost home for leave, he could've lived his entire life not knowing that tiny personal detail. Johnny had come to realize that perhaps some of Ghost's hard-ass personality came from him being grumpy after waking up too early.

That first morning in Simon's flat Johnny had gotten up before the sun, same as he did on base. He brewed coffee and waited for a bit, waiting for Simon to rise, but the other man hadn't moved from the heap of limbs and duvet he had contorted himself into in the bed. Johnny went for a run and returned and still no movement from Simon.

Eventually, at nearly noon, Simon sauntered out of his room and into the kitchen, duvet cocooning him. If Soap drew a very tired caterpillar and a butterfly with a skull mask in his journal later that day, that was between himself and God.

The second day Johnny made the mistake of attempting to wake him. He rose, but he was gruff, short tempered, and as the two went for a run together passers by gave them a wide berth, as Simon's glare could curdle milk.

The third day was when Johnny happened upon a stroke of pure genius. He woke Simon as he rose, unintentionally, and earned himself a few choice words that he couldn't discern as they were vehemently growled into a pillow. Johnny brewed his coffee, boiled Simon's tea, retrieved a packet of biscuits from the cabinet, and left it all on the table in the living room. He then returned to his sulking boyfriend, who hadn't yet gone back to sleep.

"Up, c'mon, tea's gonna get cold."

Simon grumbled and rolled to face him, squinting like a displeased cat. Later, a disgruntled black cat with a white face, flicking it's tail would be drawn below the butterfly. Any relation to real world events was purely coincidental.

"I'll carry ya if I have to." Johnny meant it as a tease.

"Like you're gonna carry my heavy ass." Simon rolled his eyes.

Johnny was never one to back down from a challenge, and scooped the larger man up from the bed, holding him bridal style. He didn't even try to keep himself from laughing at Simon's indignant squawk.

He carried him, blanket and all, to the couch and deposited him before his breakfast, which he promptly handed over. He noticed, later, that Simon didn't glare quite so hard at the old birds power walking the opposite way they'd been running that day.

The next day he carried Simon over his shoulder, the next fireman's carry, and the day after Simon wrapped himself around Johnny's front.

His favorite, and it seemed to be Simon's favorite too as he kept positioning himself for it every time after, had been when he'd turned away from the bed to glance out the window, and Simon had risen of his own accord. He draped himself across Johnny's back, wrapping the blanket around them both and nuzzling into Johnny's neck.

John had reached back, one arm up to thread his fingers through Simon's bedhead, and the other down, so that he could pinch Simon's ass, earning him a nip to his carotid.

Laughing, Johnny had slapped gently at Simon's thigh, "Up, I still have to make your tea.

Simon dutifully lifted that leg and then climbed up, arms bracketing Johnny's head, legs secure around his navel, and chin nestled into Johnny's mussed up mohawk. The man fit there perfectly.

From that day on, Johnny carried his overgrown koala of a boyfriend around the flat as he carried out his morning routine of keeping them both caffinated and fed.

Even after returning to base, and hiding Simon and Johnny away behind Ghost and Soap, Ghost would find Soap in the rec room and climb up to wait for his breakfast.

No one dared question the Lieutenant's slight change in behavior, as they enjoyed not having their heads ripped off.

[outsideratheart]

“I almost lost you.” with Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson was the woman for you. There was a lot in this world you didn’t know but this is one thing you were sure about.

Throughout the years you have been together you had experienced many ups and downs both on the pitch and off it but there was one moment that stuck out.

Back in 2019 Arsenal got an offer for Lyon that was too good to turn down. Never did you think you would leave Arsenal and your girlfriend but the temptation was there and it filled you with guilt. Talks happened between you and the french team but you kept them a secret from your girlfriend. In the end you chose your relationship over your career.

It’s how you found yourself experiencing an intense case of Deja Vu. For you Arsenal wasn’t the same as it once was and with your contract coming to an end, teams began making offers once again. Only this time you told your manager to reject every single one of them. Maybe your love of the team was deteriorating but your relationship wasn’t. You and Leah had just bought you forever home and you leaving wasn’t part of your 5 year plan.

“Is everything ok?” Leah asked as you walked into the kitchen where she was making herself, and now you, a cup for tea.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Once again you had been asked to stay behind to work do extra training at the request of Jonas.

With the small amount of energy you have left you hoist yourself up onto the kitchen side.

Leah hands you a freshly brewed tea and takes her place between your legs. She watches as you place the cup aside without taking a sip.

“You never turn down a cup for tea. Something must be wrong” Leah slight chuckle soon came to an end when she saw your face drop.

Your mind was screaming in frustration but you remain silent. The only sign of response Leah gets is when you tilt your head back in attempt to avoid eye contact.

“We just need to finish this season and get it over with”

Never had Leah heard you talk about football in such a way. You spoke about it like it was a chore when normally you have a smile that spreads from ear to ear.

“You can leave Y/N. I know that—“ Leah begins to talk but you don’t let her finish her sentence.

“No, no ,no. I’m not leaving, I haven’t even taken any meetings. I promise you Leah, I haven’t”

Leah has known your departure from the club you both grew up in was imminent. She could play for Arsenal until the day she retired but the same could not be said about you. You deserved to reach your full potential and that wouldn’t happen at Arsenal.

“I know about the offers” Leah hands rub up and down your thighs. She watched as you visibly tense up at the mention of other clubs.

“I turned them down straight away”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have”

“It was the right decision for our future. Last time I…..I almost lost you”

It wasn’t an easy thing to remember. You and Leah were screaming at each other and it ended with her walking out. She didn’t return to your apartments for 3 days and they were the longest days of your life.

‘Y/N” Leah waited for you to look at her and after a few seconds you did “It wasn’t you moving that did that. It was that you kept it from me”

“I don’t know what to do. I’m not happy at Arsenal but I know that I’ll be even more miserable if I am away from you”

“What we are going to do is talk about it. You are going to be honest with me about how you are feeling and then you can tell me which city I will be visiting on my days off”

“I’ll grab the biscuits, you grab the drinks?” You ask with a smirk on your face.

“Sure” Leah steals a quick kiss “See, we will still be a team off the pitch”

[snaileer]

Time Unsolved

Dp Unsolved

“Today on Buzzfeed unsolved we cover the Timely Disappearance of Charles T. Williamsworth.”

Danny slurped loudly on his drink as the intro played. Was he maybe crazy for watching a Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime alone, at night? Maybe.

But Danny had been attacked by ghosts. What was a human gonna do that Skulker couldn’t?

“What a name!” Shane cut in immediately, the video showing him seated at their table holding a cup of coffee. Ryan laughed.

“‘Ello, yes, my name is Sir Charles T. Williamsworth, how art thou? Ah yes, jolly good!” Shane mimicked with a horrifically bad posh British accent.

Ryan laughed harder, “We’ve been to London, they don’t sound like that!” He said between laughs.

“Uh, he does! There’s no way a man with a name like that is not ‘mm yes I will take a spot of tea with my biscuit thank you.’ I’m calling it, he definitely talked like that!”

Danny smiled at the antics as Ryan wheezed, “Well it’s too bad we’ll never know for sure then isn’t it, what with his disappearance, y’know what we’re actually here to talk about.”

“That’s okay. I’ll know. I know my buddy Charles.”

“Alright then.”

Ryan flicked his file open as Shane took a sip from his coffee.

The screen lit up with an image of a man on a black backdrop.

“The Williamsworths were a French-German family who moved to Biel, Switzerland in early 1914, just months before the largest war in European history kicked off.

They were one of the lucky few families to have left France before the war broke out…”

“Oh a family moving, that’s suspicious now?”Shane cut in, yellow words typing themself across the screen.

“Well, it was right before World War 1, I mean the timing is kind of suspicious.” Ryan replied in blue.

-People move, Ryan.-

-Okay, okay, it’s just the facts of the case,.-

Danny rolled his eyes, ready for the story to continue.

The images came back.

“This move would evidently prove to be quite fortunate for the family for obvious reasons. However, it also led Charles to find his true passion: … Watchmaking.”

There was a pause as a map of Switzerland came on screen. “Biel, the town that Charles would live in for the majority of his recorded younger life, was known for watchmaking, being one of several in the heart of an area named ‘Watch Valley.’ “

-You ever own a Swiss watch?-

-Nope-

-Heard they’re good. Reeeal good.-

-Yep.-

-…-

“Charles would reportedly develop a passion for clocks, watches, and timepieces in general, only getting more entrenched in his obsession over time.”

The image of the man now shifted to be overlaid on a map.

“By the time the First World War was over, Charles had gained an ostentatious apprenticeship under one of the premiere watchmakers of the time, Max Stührling. This lasted until Stührling’s death in 1938, after which Charles vanished from any records for two years.”

-Well y’know, his mentor had just died. -Maybe he wanted to grieve. Y’know curl up in his room and not see anybody for a bit.-

Ryan laughed, -2 years, he was crying in his room for 2 years and nobody found him?-

-Well, it’s not like records were great back then, I mean what are you gonna write on the census… just.. like..-

-Loud weeping heard from inside. One resident. Unnamed.-

-Yeah!-

“The next time Charles T. Williamsworth appears on record, it is in the back of a photo from France in 1940. Showing Williamsworth standing in front of a watch shop wearing dark clothes, a distinct pocket watch, and looking into the camera.”

The black and white image appears on screen, zooming in on the background figure. Danny tilts his head at it, something about it niggling at him.

“The shop and its owner would go on to be infamous within the French town for the duration of the Second World War. Charles was unwillingly drafted in the summer of 1941, serving on the front lines for no more than 3 months before sustaining a wound to his face, leaving him with damaged eyesight, facial scarring, and a medical discharge.

He returned to his shop soon after.”

Danny frowned at the mention of what the man had probably gone through.

“Later evidence statements regarding Charles stated that he was: ‘an odd man. He never mentioned the war, leaving it behind once he was not forced to be a part of it. He seemed to be separate from it all, he only cared for his watches.’

This sense of separation would extend to his shop, as when the town was bombed in 1944 leading up to D-day, his shop was left miraculously unharmed. It was reportedly open the very next day.”

-I can appreciate the dedication- Shane says in yellow.

-Yeah, I mean, the morning after is a bit soon, but he did really love watches. If he didn’t have to, I guess he wasn’t gonna close his shop.-

-His advertising: ‘Sure you were almost killed in a fiery explosion, but look! I’ve got new watches!’ Jazz hands.-

Ryan laughs.

“Over the next 50 years, Charles T. Williamsworth would disappear from records repeatedly, sometimes for months, only present on seven censuses between 1952 and 1979. Despite this, the clock shop was never sold, remaining in wait for its master’s return.”

Multiple pictures of pocket watches came onscreen. “It became known in the surrounding area for especially good pocket watches and grandfather clocks. Each personally made using Swiss essemblage practices, often engraved.

While it was a place of prestige, some described the shop as having ‘an unbearably loud sound of ticking, as if a thousand clocks were set to the same second.’

Apparently, Charles ‘seemed to enjoy the sound, often standing in the front room when no one was present. He was able to pick out one clock if it was off time.’ Witnesses stated.”

It cut to showing Shane and Ryan at their table.

“God, I can’t imagine. That’d drive me crazy.” Shane said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, a thousand clocks at the same time? Just..” Ryan looked back and forth frantically, as if there were sounds from every direction, “I’d go nuts pretty fast, I can’t even handle one sometimes.”

“I’d just go off and punch one of the clocks, just- RAAAH and -oh my god is that where that comes from?! I’m gonna punch your clock? Or like you clock somebody!?! Oh my god I never realized that!”

Danny’s jaw drops at the realization as Ryan laughs. Shane looks to be losing his mind as well.

“However, Charles’ most notable disappearance was his last.”

Dramatic music played as Danny zoned back in.

“Due to his frequency of vanishing for extended periods of time, it is unknown when exactly Charles disappeared. The last definite sighting of Charles T. Williamsworth was late at night on April 23rd, 1999, when neighborhood patrolman, Elliot Dubois, noticed him locking the door to his shop with its lights still on. Elliot, concerned for the safety of the elderly man, questioned him but eventually allowed Charles to leave, noting that he turned down a road that only led into the woods outside of town.

Two weeks later, 12 year old James Chappellè, a mailboy in the area, noted during his morning run on May 7 that mail had begun to pile up in front of the shop’s door.

Something that had never happened before.”

The word ‘before’ faded into red.

“It reached such a point that the mail system declared they would no longer deliver, as they couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t be stolen.

At this point, the police got involved and the case was assigned to Detective Jacob Laurent.

It turned out to be a more difficult case than first expected, as when they looked into Charles’ past, they were unable to turn up any such notable documents as a birth certificate nor any document containing a birthdate.

But when police entered the shop on May 10th, they found it largely empty, with only the shelves, register, and equipment left remaining between the front and back room. There were no clocks of any kind.

It should be noted that there was still money in the register, and a light on in the back though the other bulbs for the front seemed to have been burnt out.

Upon entering the living space above the shop, it was found to be covered in dust, and all of Charles’ clothes and belongings still present.

Rather, there was evidence that Charles largely slept in his shop, with a cot beside his workbench.

A workbench that, upon police entry, only held one gold pocketwatch, personally engraved with the initials ‘C. W.’ As it was known for Charles to always carry the pocketwatch, he was officially declared missing and possibly presumed dead.

The watch’s presence also led detective Laurent to suspect foul play.

Despite the declaration of foul play, the police did not extensively search the town woods, citing the size and density of the forest.”

The video cut to Shane staring at Ryan, face deadpan. Ryan was clearly trying to hold back laughs.

“So… let me get this straight… an old man who’s… how old at this point exactly?”

Ryan laughs, “Nobody knows, there’s no known birthday-“

“That’s weird too, but okay, let’s say he’s like what, at least 95? I mean… there’s a certain age that like if you disappear… ..eh.” Shane shrugged.

Ryan looked at him incredulously, “Eh??”

“Yeah,” Shane shrugged again, “Eh.”

“What???”

“I mean… y’know… old people wander into the woods sometimes, maybe he just went for a walk and got lost. At that age… death has gotta be around every corner, I mean come on!”

Ryan wheezed into his elbow.

Danny laughed quietly.

Once Ryan calmed down, he organized the file, clipping it down on the table, “So! With the story finished, let’s get into the theories,”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god this is gonna be one of yours isn’t it? What ghosts are abducting people now?”

Danny smiled, briefly considering how much effort it would take to go haunt Shane all the way in LA.

“The first theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth was involved with the mafia at the time and was a long standing or high ranking member that had crossed the wrong people.

Some reasons for this theory is the lack of early documents, suggesting a fake identity or forgery.

This case is especially supported by the long absences, where his shop remained closed and yet still remained in his possession.

In fact, the deed for the shop was not listed under Charles’ name, instead Iisted as owned under a private organization.

This theory explains his disappearance and possible subsequent death as an act of revenge from an enemy made from illicit activities. Leaving no body behind, there would be no evidence to prosecute the acting party.

Within this, there are also some who believe that if Charles was engaged in the mafia and lived under a false identity, that his disappearance was him returning to his actual identity, possibly due to being caught.

Prison records indicate 6 Swiss-German inmates arrested at the approximate time of his disappearance, roughly matching the age and appearance of Charles. Notably, none of them had a distinct facial scar and no identification was ever confirmed.”

The screen switched.

Shane smiled at Ryan, “Oh Ho Ho, my boy Charles is getting into some funky stuff, huh? Workin’ for the Mob, breaking knees, chopping fingers?”

Ryan laughed, “Yeah maybe, it definitely lends credit to him being a part of something. Maybe he was out in the woods breaking knees y’know. Or burying something.”

“Someone,…”Shane said ominously, then burst out laughing, “What if he buried himself! Just-“Shane mimed digging, clapping his hands like he was wiping off dust, “Alright, thats a good illegal grave right there, just a good hole for a dead- woaaah!” He pretended to fall, “Boom, stuck in his own grave.”

“Really, this old man dug a 6 foot deep grave? On his own?”

“Hey you don’t know his strength, maybe he lifts.”

“Alright.” Ryan shook his head, still grinning.

Danny smiled, considering it, it did kind of make sense.

“The second theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth did indeed just walk into the woods and never come out. If this is the case, what happened in the woods is widely speculated on. Some saying that animals may have attacked him, or that he simply fell or was injured and could not get up due to his age.

This theory loses support due to the fact that no body was ever found. Though some say that if the woods were too big for the police to search, there may be a den or that his body was covered naturally.”

“Or in a grave.”

“You really think he was mafia?”

“I mean, who could tell?” Shane shrugged.

“The third theory, much like the first, is that Charles was a federal agent for one of the Allied Powers.

This theory is also supported by the significant periods of absence and lack of documents to indicate a forged identity, meant to fool the German government and allow him to work behind the lines. However, unlike the first, there is also evidence of a man with the same distinct scar on his eye, showing up in the background of photos at the British Intelligence Office, the Eiffel Tower during Germany’s occupancy, and behind closed Swiss borders.

None of which would be possible without the unique skills and permissions of a government agent.”

Silence reigned as Shane and Ryan stared each other down, Shane clearly ramping up for something.

“The name’s Williamsworth. Charles Williamsworth.” He said dramatically.

Ryan burst out laughing. “You support this one more then?”

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind, he’s not in the mafia. His suspicious activities were in the name of secrecy, national secrets, confidential war trades. Espionage…”

“Well I guess, nobody’s gonna suspect the 95 year old man to be up to anything. I mean, if I saw an old man somewhere I’d just be like, huh I wonder who lost their grandpa, not ‘I bet he’s secretly working to take down Hitler.’ Y’know.”

“Charles gets caught: just ‘Whaa-at me~e? I’m just a gentle~e o~ ol~ld ma~an, I can’t harm nobody~y.” Shane mimed leaning over a cane.

“He gets caught and just pretends he has dementia, ‘Who am I? Who are you? Why am I here? Where’s my breakfast?”

Shane cackled as Ryan laughed.

Danny considered it more, this one seemed the most likely, though… he’d definitely be the oldest agent.

“Another theory is that the shop was robbed and Charles returned while or before it was happening, catching the criminals off guard and leading them to react rashly, injuring or killing Charles. They then would have hidden his body and cleaned out the shop to hide any other evidence.

This theory however is disproven by the lack of money taken from the register.

Despite this, it is the official claimed circumstance by the police at the time.”

“Fucking police, always with the boring one.” Shane said ruefully.

“Our last theory, and my personal favorite,-“

Shane groaned. Danny smiled, this was gonna be good.

“-is that Charles T Williamsworth was a time traveler. And that all of his disappearances were when he was traveling through time.

This theory supports his families early move to Switzerland under odd timing, his appearance in so many photos and even his obsession with clocks. As well as why he seemed unbothered by the tumultuous times.”

“I can… accept it.” Shane said, hesitant.

Ryan laughed, “I’ll take it.”

“Despite all of these theories, there is still significant information missing from the case.

And so, like clockwork this case shall remain:

Unsolved.”

Danny’s mouth dropped as the screen went dark.

No way.

No freaking way.

He lurched upwards, eyes wide.

Obsessed with clocks, scar on his eye, fricking weird and talks in riddles.

Oh mygod!

Danny threw himself out of bed, “I’ve connected the dots!” He rushed to untangle himself from his sheets, transforming immediately, “I’ve connected them!”

He dove for the ghost portal.

Holy frick!

Charles T. Williamsworth was Clockwork!

[munsonsmixtapes]

Benny

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: glimpses of your friendship with Benedict as you both navigate love and loss

word count: 5k

cw: brief mention of death and grief

This is based on this request and is in collaboration with the lovely @lillypad910!

part two

Age Six

The carriage pulled up to the house where you would be living. You wiped away your tears as the door opened, a footman holding his hand out for you as you climbed out, your aunt and uncle following you. They each took one of your hands as they led you up the steps, not a single word being uttered as they did so.

Once you were inside, your aunt, Eleanor let go of your hand and crouched in front of you. She wiped away your tears with the pads of her thumbs as she looked into your eyes, trying to find any way to put a smile on your face.

"Do you want to see your room?" She asked and your face suddenly lit up as you nodded furiously. "Go up the stairs and it's the first door." She pointed in that direction and you raced up the stairs, opening the door to reveal a room that your entire old house could have fit into.

You let out a gasp as you ran to the bed, collapsing onto it, letting out a contented sigh. You had never had one to yourself since you always wanted to share with your parents, always wanting to sleep with them because they made you feel safe, like you were protected from the scary thoughts in your head that always seemed to keep you awake. 

Eleanor and Gabriel stood in the doorway, staring down at you lovingly. “We will leave you to get comfortable, you had a long journey.” Your aunt smiled at you, gesturing for your uncle to step out. “Pull that rope if you need anything,” She pointed to an embroidered rope of fabric right next to the bed, “Fiona will come up with some tea and treats in an hour.” She leaned down and placed a soft kiss to your temple, before leaving and shutting the door behind her. 

You snuggled into the pillows, the exhaustion from the long trip finally weighing on your small body. 

Just as Aunt Eleanor had said, a knock came from the door, “Miss?” The door cracked open and a young woman stepped in holding a tray of biscuits and tea. “My name is Fiona, Miss. I’ll be your personal maid for the duration of your stay.” She smiled at you before placing the tray at the table by the window of the room. Two chairs were placed next to the table. You got up and made your way over to the table, pulling yourself into one of the chairs. “Here,” Fiona poured you a cup of tea in a fancy china set, like the one your mother would pull out when you had visitors. 

You took it carefully into your small hands, just like your mother had taught you to do, and took a sip. The hot liquid sent a blanket of warmth throughout your form, enveloping you like a comforting hug. It was sweet, with a lot of cream, exactly how you liked it. 

“Is it good?” She asked you, her hands holding the tray against her body. You nodded, too nervous to use words, but wanting to confirm your liking. She smiled, happy with your response. “The biscuits are for you to enjoy, so please help yourself. If that is all for now, I’ll take my leave-” Without even realizing, your hand reached out to grab her apron. 

Fiona stopped in her tracks, her eyes widened as she glanced down at your hand, “Miss?” You gave the apron a soft tug, your eyes watering as the initial rose colored lenses fade. Fiona seemed to look panicked as she sat the tray back down, quickly lowering to your level and looking up at you. “Miss, please don’t cry…”

A knock came from the door, a creaking sound echos as it opens, your mother stepping in. “We are leaving-” She froze seeing your tears, “Oh dear…” She stepped closer, signaling for Fiona to take a moment. As Fiona stepped out of the room, your mother got down to her knees in front of you. Her perfume hit you with its sweet floral fragrance, sending an immediate wave of comfort over you. “Darling, it’s alright…” Your mother gave you a soft smile, running her hand over your cheek to wipe away your tears, “it’s only for a few days.” Her smile was comforting, as one of her delicate fingers brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

You sniffled, your eyes puffy from your tears as you calmed down. Your mother hummed, content with your newly found composure. “Here,” She lifted you up off the chair, before carrying you over to the bed. She reached behind herself, before pulling a box in front of you. “Open it.” 

You did so, pulling the pink ribbon off the box before lifting the lid. You looked into the box to see a soft teddy bear laying there. You lifted it up, holding it to your chest. You noticed immediately the fragrance of your mother’s perfume sprayed across the bear. “Whenever you miss me and your father,” She wrapped her arms around you, “I want you to squeeeze” she mimicked the action against you, squeezing you in her arms. This released a soft giggle from you, making her let out a laugh too. 

“Now,” She pulled away, looking down at you, “ I need you to be a good girl for your Aunt and Uncle, alright?” You nodded snuggling into the bear. “Darling,” the deep, comforting voice came from the door, making you both look up. Your father stood there, Fiona just behind him, “It’s time to go.” Your mother took in a deep breath, before turning back to you, “What will you name it?” Your father looked down at you, his eyes softened as they took in the teddy bear in your arms. 

“Teddy.” The immediate giggle that came from your mother as she covered her mouth. Your father looked away, a subtle rouge on his cheeks. 

“You hear that, Teddy?” Your mother got out between her giggles. 

“Shush.”

Fiona let out a small giggle as well before clearing her throat. “Theo,” your uncle calls from down the hall, your father recoiling at the sound of the nickname. He waved his wife over and reached for her hand, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles before leading her down the stairs. You followed, hurrying behind them as fast as your little legs could carry you, holding onto the railing as you did so. 

Once you got to the bottom, your mother reached for your hand and you took it before both of your parents crouched in front of you. You hugged Teddy to your chest as they both pulled you into a group hug, squeezing the both of you tight.  

“Well see you in a few days, my sweet,” your mother said, her hand reaching up to cup your cheek. She pressed a kiss to it then the two of them joined hands once again before heading to the doors where your aunt and uncle were standing. 

As everyone said their goodbyes, your mother pulled you aside for one more good hug. “I love you, y/n.” You noticed her grip was a little tighter than past hugs; her hands ran through your hair, soothing any loose strands. 

Your mother hugged your aunt before her and your father were led out the front door by a footman. Something in the air felt strange, and you almost swore that you could see your mother wiping away a tear as the door closed, leaving you alone with your aunt and uncle.

As the carriage was dragged away, you felt your uncle place his hand on your shoulder, a soft squeeze that felt oddly comforting coming from someone you hardly knew. You swore you heard him let out a deep breath, turning to face him, only to see him turn away.

The morning came quickly, with Fiona waking you with a cup of hot chocolate and a warm smile to match. “Good morning, Miss.” Her cheery voice rang through the room much louder than you needed that early. “Your aunt has a surprise for you, so we must get you ready for a day of adventure!” 

You slowly pulled the covers back and rubbed the sleep from your eyes before taking the cup from her, blowing on the beverage before taking a sip. Fiona lets you take your time as she pulls out a cute dress from the wardrobe. It was much more frilly than anything you had ever owned and it caught your attention immediately as she laid it across the bed in front of you. 

“How’s this, Miss?” She took your face of astonishment as a look of approval. “Let’s get you dressed.” You sat the cup down and got up, letting her help you get dressed - something your mother always did. 

After getting you dressed and doing your hair with pretty ribbons, Fiona led you downstairs where your Aunt was waiting for you. “Ah! y/n, good!” She smiled at you, greeting you with open arms. “I have plans for us today for you to meet some of the other children in the area. We will discuss it on the way.” She made her way out of the front door, leaving you to quickly follow after with little delay. 

“The Bridgerton house is a prestigious family of the ton, and Lady Bridgerton is actually a dear friend of mine and your mother’s so please be on your best behavior.” Her blabbering mellowed out of your ears as your carriage made it down the road, but you picked up on the assumed important points. 

As the carriage came to a stop, it took only a moment for a footman to open the door, helping your aunt out of the carriage first before holding out his hand to you, “Miss y/n.” You took it tightly, using his grip as a way to anchor yourself in the present. It was a faster pace of affirming than you were used to, but you needed to adapt. 

“Y/n,” Aunt Eleanor called out to you, “The Bridgerton children are kind and well educated. It would do you good to make friends with them. There are four children that are closest to you in age, Anthony, Benedict, Colin, and Daphne.” She gestured for you to follow closely as you made your way to the front door, “Daphne should be another girl for you to spend time with, but Benedict is the one your age.” 

As the front door to the Bridgerton country home opened, you had to be honest with yourself, your aunt’s words were lost in the background. The grand entrance of the home was spotless, beautiful, and grand. It made your family home look like a doll house. 

“Lady Eleanor,” A woman stepped forward, smiling at your aunt before giving you a smile as well, “I am Mrs. Wilson, the housekeeper here at Bridgerton House. The Viscountess is outside in the garden waiting for your arrival, I will take you both to her now.” Her voice was prim and proper, much more direct and scary than anyone you had met. You had made a mental note to not get on her bad side. 

The garden was all prepared for tea with the table and chairs, decorated with some of the most elegant bouquets you’d ever seen. There was a fancy china set and a tray with an array of sandwiches and biscuits in the center of the table. Was everyone’s life this lavish and elegant?

You felt drool forming in your mouth as you stepped up to the table, glancing over the array of goodies perfectly placed on a tiered platter on the table. 

You reached out to grab one only for someone else to reach it first. You looked up and there was a boy about your age, not that you were paying much attention, you were focused on the delicate finger sandwich in his hand. His eyes widened at what he had done and he quickly held it out to you, a warm smile on his face. 

“My apologies,” he said nervously and you looked down, the small sandwich still in his hands. “Please, take it,” he urged and you nodded, slowly taking it from him. You took a small nibble, afraid that gorging out on food would make your aunt angry, or leave a bad impression on the boy in front of you. But as you glanced back up at the boy, his smile had not faded. 

“Y/n!” The loud call of your name made you jump, fumbling the sandwich before it fell into the grass under you. “You shouldn’t eat without permission from your host!” You didn’t like being yelled at, it was probably the one thing you hated more than being away from your mother. 

You lowered your head, trying your best to hide the tears that were falling from your face. The only thing more embarrassing than crying was crying in front of a stranger. You quickly wiped your tears as your aunt approached you, her features softening as she realized that maybe she had been a bit too harsh with you. 

“P-pardon me,” the boy across from you spoke up. “It was my fault.”

“Your fault?” Eleanor asked, turning to him. 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded furiously. “Absolutely my fault. I told her she could have it. She just seemed so hungry and-”

“Enough,” your aunt cut him off, holding her hand up as if to silence him. “My deepest apologies to both of you.” Her hand rested on your shoulder as she crouched to your height, lifting your chin so you would look up at her, wiping your tears from your face. 

“Perhaps I was a bit too stern,” she said, her eyebrows pinching together before she reached for another sandwich and held it out to you. “It will be our little secret,” she winked, then patted your head before heading back over to the adults, leaving you alone with the boy again. 

“I’m Anthony,” he said, holding his hand out for you to shake and you looked down at it before looking up at him, wondering what you were supposed to do with it. “You’re supposed to shake it,” he let out a laugh and slowly reached for your hand, giving it a firm shake before pulling you along with him. “Come on,” he called out to you as he started to run, your small legs having trouble keeping up with him as you shoved the sandwich into your mouth to free your hand so you could gather up your dress. 

Anthony pulled you further out into the grassy garden where there were two other boys and the girl who you had heard about earlier. They were all chasing each other, giggles escaping their lips as they did so, the girl tackling her brother to the ground. 

“You’re it, Colin,” she told him and he pushed her off of him before standing to his feet, grumbling to himself that he was never going to play with them again as he went to chase after his other brother. 

You watched them play with each other, wondering what it would have been like to have a sibling, to have a built-in best friend that you could have played with whenever you wanted. Your life seemed so quiet so…boring compared to theirs.

Anthony cleared his throat loudly and the three siblings froze, all turning to face him. He rested a hand on your shoulder as the others hurried over, wanting to get a glimpse of the new-comer. You felt your cheeks get hot as they stared at you, hating that you were getting all of the attention. 

“This is y/n,” he introduced you proudly as he looped his arm through yours. “Be nice to her. She’s new here and could use some new friends. And we won’t push her into the grass, will we Colin?” He asked, looking at his brother knowingly and Colin turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“This is Benedict,” Anthony pointed to the taller of the two boys who bowed. “And Colin.” The other boy just muttered something under his breath. “And Daphne.” The girl curtsied, a smile on her face as she realized she would finally have a friend who was a girl. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss y/n,” Benedict bowed as he took your free hand, pressing a featherlight kiss to it.  Anthony turned to his brother and gave him a look of suspicion, knowing that he had never done anything like that in his life. Maybe it was something that he had seen their father do. 

“Pleasure to meet you too,” you responded, looking down and noticing that he was still holding your hand. His was warm and gentle, something that suddenly made you feel at ease. 

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, miss,” he winked before grabbing your hand and pulling you along. “C’mon,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled you further out into the field. “Play tag with us. Everyone, y/n’s it!” He called out and they all ran away from you and you chased them, trying to tag them like you had seen Daphne do. 

You chased after Benedict since he was closest to you, quickly gaining on him as you got closer, not even bothering to gather up your dress this time. You were so close, reaching out to grab onto him, but all you caught was his shirt, your hand slipping away from him as he got away. Your shoe got tangled in the bottom of your dress, causing you to collapse to the grass. 

It was as if everything was playing in slow motion, Benedict getting away from you, your body hitting the ground, almost as if you were in a dream-like state. Nothing was feeling real at the moment. 

You slowly sat up and pushed your dress up to reveal your bloody knee that had been scraped during your fall. Tears slipped from your eyes and you tried to hold them back, not wanting to cry in front of your new friends. 

But you couldn’t help it. The pain was getting to you and the tears were now streaming down your cheeks but you were quick to wipe them away. 

Once everyone realized what had happened, they rushed over to you, quick to help you to your feet. They all grabbed onto a part of your arm and helped you up before dusting the grass and dirt off of your dress. 

“C’mon,” he said, quick to gather you up in his arms. “Let’s get you inside.” With that, all five of you headed towards the house, sobs escaping your lips the whole way there. 

All of the Bridgerton children looked at you worriedly as you all entered the house. Anthony carried you into the study, setting you down on the chaise, before gently pulling up your dress to get a good look. The blood was smeared and there was a small gash that had a bit of grass and dirt in it. 

“Benedict, grab some towels, water, and some bandages.” With that Benedict ran off in search of the items, leaving the four of you alone. 

“Is she going to die?” Colin asked in a panic. 

“No, it’s just a gash. She’s going to be fine,” Anthony waved his brother off and Benedict came rushing back into the room with all of the proper supplies, shutting the door behind him. He brought it all over and Anthony got to work, dabbing at your gash with the wet towel he had just dipping in the water. Once it was cleaned out and all of the blood was wiped away, he tied the cloth around your knee to prevent any further bleeding. 

Once you were all cleaned up, he stood back to see how you were holding up. Your tears had ceased, but there were still some that had dried to your cheeks. He felt so bad for you, wanting to take your pain away and take it for himself. 

“Are you okay?” Benedict asked, pushing his brother aside to stand in front of you. His hazel eyes were filled with worry as he looked at you, your injured knee being all he could think about. He didn’t know why he felt the need to protect you. But not like a brother would. In a different way. A way he couldn’t describe. 

-

You sat in the garden with Fiona, a china set with tea displayed out in front of you. It was Monday, your parents would be coming to get you around noon and you couldn’t wait. Your grip on the teacup was unusually tight, and as birds tweeted and bees buzzed around you, it felt weird. Something was off. 

“Miss,” Fiona calls out to you, “Are you excited to go home? Your parents should be here in a little over an hour. I know you miss them dearly.” Her voice was endearing, calming and sweet. Fiona had been a staple in your emotional support for those past few days. She was always there for a hug or a calming word when you needed it. 

You nodded, taking a sip of the tea. Looking around across the garden you could tell some clouds were rolling in from the east, it was probably going to rain soon.

“We should head back in, get you all packed up for their arrival,” Fiona smiled, getting up from the garden chair, and calling over a footman that stood ready behind her. She gave him the order to clean before she turned to you, helping you off of the chair. The two of you stepped back inside the home just as you felt a little tap of a raindrop on the top of your head. 

You didn’t know exactly how long it had been as you watched the rain flood the garden, covering the window you sat by in a blanket of fog. All you knew was the servants were running around anxiously, anticipating your parents’ arrival anytime. You knew it was getting late, as the hours slipped by and the sun had gone completely out of sight. The moon was covered by clouds, lightning strikes the trees far out across the country side. 

“Miss,” Fiona called out to you, a look of worry on her face. “I don’t know what has held them up, but your aunt has asked me to bring you to the dinner table. You should eat.” You followed her without any argument, too tired to complain. You wanted your mother, you had always hated thunderstorms. 

The dinner was quiet, the air felt dense and hot with the fire roaring on in the fireplace. Servants helped serve the food to you, Fiona stood close by, not wanting you to feel too uncomfortable.

“I heard the rain has flooded the roads,” your uncle spoke calmly, “I’m sure Theo and Eliza had moved their journey to tomorrow.” He tried to reassure you upon seeing your immediate concern. 

After the meal, Fiona took you to sit in one of the many sitting rooms of the house. A fire was already lit in the fireplace, and a few cups of hot chocolate were laid out across the coffee table. Blankets were set across the couch where she lead you to. 

“I figured since you seemed a little anxious that I would read to you a bit. I have asked Lady Watson to allow us to use the room for the night, so we can sleep here if you wish.” Fiona smiled at you. Her warmth was something that always made you feel better. “Oh!” She picked up something just out of your sight before handing it to you, “I snatched him from your room as I got everything ready.” Teddy sat in her hand, held out to you. You took the bear, happy to have the scent of your mother’s perfume fill your nose. 

You don’t know when you fell asleep, the sound of Fiona’s voice was sweet as a melody, guiding you to the soft land of dreams. Until it wasn’t. 

Thunder clashed outside, startling you awake. Your breath picked up, alarmed by the sudden noise. Then a loud knock came from the front door. It only took a moment for light to seep through the crack of the door, before it faded out down the hall. 

What was going on? How late was it? Who was at the door? 

Questions flooded your mind as you slowly slipped away from Fiona’s comforting grip. The floorboards creaked as you made your way to the door. It opened without much noise, allowing you to slip out into the dark hall with ease. 

“Good evening, Lord and Lady Watson,” a voice echoed from the end of the hall, coming from the foyer. You stepped closer, making your way through the cryptic passage, suddenly more aware of the portraits that stared at you from the walls. 

“What is it, doctor? It’s nearly four in the morning.” Your uncle responded, sounding angry. You turned the corner, glancing into the foyer to find your uncle in a robe, his nightcap on his head. Your aunt stood sleepily beside him, holding his arm for support in keeping herself awake. Her nightgown was a nice warm cream color that had strands of something metallic thought caught the firelight of a few candles being held by the servants. 

“I bring bad news, sir.” The doctor pulled out something from the briefcase he was holding. “I’m sorry to inform you but your brother, Mr. Theodore Watson and his wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Watson were found about five hours ago on the bank of the river. We found their carriage crashed on the other side of their location. It appears they were on the road when they began to flood, and got swept up in the current of the water and crashed into the river.” 

Your aunt took in a deep gasp, “ Are they alright? Is Eliza and Theodore alright?” Her voice sounded concerned, worry bleeding through the names of your parents. 

The doctor glanced between them, “Unfortunately, when someone was finally able to locate them, they were already dead.” He looked up at your uncle, a sad look in his eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Lord Watson, Lady Watson.” 

Aunt Eleanor’s hand covered her mouth as you could hear sobs coming from her, your Uncle Gabriel stood straighter, but you saw a sadness linger behind his eyes. A cold chill settled across the room, making your skin crawl. 

Dead? It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. They couldn’t be dead…right? It had to be a mistake. One big mistake. Or maybe you were dreaming. You’d close your eyes and you’d be right back in your bed. 

You shut your eyes tight, crossing your fingers that it would all go away, but you could still hear your aunt’s sobs and your uncle trying his best to console her. So the nightmare was real. Your parents were dead and you were going to have to live with Eleanor and Gabriel for the rest of your life.

Flashes of your mother crossed your mind. Her perfectly styled hair you would watch her do every morning. Her beautiful dresses she would repair late at night by candlelight. Her soft smile and comforting laugh. 

“I believe they had a daughter, correct?” 

Flashes of your father. His broad shoulders that shielded you from the harsh sun when he would take you on walks after tea time. His deep voice that sent a flutter of warmth through you as he would read you bedtime stories. His large hand that held you so tight when you woke up from your nightmares. 

“Yes, y/n. She was staying with us for the weekend.” 

Your mother’s delicate hands brushed the tears away from your eyes, her voice, warm and gentle. “We’ll see you in a few days, my sweet.” 

How could someone be there one second and the next just…gone? You didn’t fully understand what was going on. Of course you knew what it meant when someone had passed away, but the weight of the situation was sitting on your aunt and uncle’s shoulders as opposed to yours. 

You felt tears pricking your eyes as you fell to the floor, suddenly feeling dizzy. It was as if the room was spinning, everything curling around you as you stayed there, on your hands and knees.

“Y/n?” Your aunt called your name and you could hear the two of them ascending the stairs to come and check on you. But you didn’t need their help. You just needed to be alone. You hurried to your room and slammed the door, locking it from the inside so they couldn’t bother you. You then threw yourself onto your bed, feeling the sobs rake through you as you hugged Teddy to your chest, inhaling your mother’s scent as you went the comfort she always brought you washing over you. Eleanor and Gabriel knocked on the door, twisting the knob, trying to get inside, but you wouldn’t let them. You didn’t want their comfort or their consoling. You just wanted your parents. You wanted them to burst into the room and envelope you in a tight hug, telling you that they were there. That the accident hadn’t happened and that it was all just a bad dream. A nightmare. 

But they never came. You just laid in your bed, the rolling thunder and your scary thoughts keeping you awake. Where was your mother to protect you from this bad dream? You supposed now that the only person you could rely on to comfort you was yourself.

[enjisbf]

fairy lights & illusions

Chap. 2 : tea and biscuits

° Pairing: pornstar!John Price x inexperienced!fem!reader

word count: 5k words (actually 4 9696 but whatever)

summary: Meet cute but you actually already met lol

warnings: lovefools being in love but one is in denial :p

author's notes: Hello, hello, hello !!! Apologies for the delays, fellas and non fellas. I fear that I have been hit by the ao3 author curse lol :p Now, do not be afraid, I've already started chapter 3 and hopefully, the wait would be shorter lol. Can't promise anything, though :p I HOPE YOU ENJOY !!!! Thank you so much for the lovely words, you guys don't understand just how much they brightened my days <333333 This is so nerve wracking. I am sure that I am going to find mispells and mistakes in a few days, hope they're not too bad lol. Don't hesitate to tell if you find a real bad one o7 Did not proof read this, didn't even check with a spelling thingie thing program. I am raw dogging this :3c Okay, I'll stop yapping. ENJOY <33333333333333

He couldn’t get you out of his mind. It had been a week since the release of the video, and a week and a half since he last saw you. However, he remembers your softness, from your lips to your gaze, as if it had only been since yesterday. What’s more, the fans couldn’t quite forget you either, based on the comments they were leaving. From his private channel to his public one, the viewers were overjoyed with this softer version of the ‘Capt’n’. They loved how he would hold your hand every time you came, or how gentle and full of affection the aftercare was. Fuck, what a good girl you had been for him.  

His team was equally as happy to see that the fans loved this version of John. So much so, that they advised him to contact you to see if you were up to film more videos with him. Of course, he immediately agreed. To please his fans, of course. Ah, who was he kidding? He couldn’t lie to himself. He had felt the capture of his heart by your softness, the second you had introduced yourself. 

Shaking himself from thoughts of your sweet smile and even sweeter nectar, John sets on walking to his destination. Some days ago, Kyle had recommended this coffee place not far from the studio. The Capt’n trusted the man’s recommendation and was sure that he could find his happiness there. As John entered the place, he checked the lads’ orders again. Kyle wanted guava leaf tea with some milk, Simon’s order was a peculiar one and Johnny wanted a double shot espresso.  

He looked around as he waited in line for his turn, and he had to admit that the place felt very cozy. The sunrays streaming through the windows provided a comfortable vibe to the place, and the many plants adorning the place made it livelier. As he waited, he texted the boys that the shop was a bit busy, and that he would probably be back in 15. When it was his turn to order, he noticed in the corner of his eyes, a silhouette that he was familiar with, for it had been haunting his mind for days. As if his body was a planet and you his sun, he felt himself gravitating towards you. When his order was done, and he hoped he made sense to the worker, instead of finding a place to sit, John was approaching you. When he deemed that he was at a good distance, he greeted you in joy by calling your name.  

As your head turned at the sound of your name, John’s eyes were given the privilege to gaze into yours again. He might have watched your video plenty of times, but nothing could compare to having you in front of him. Breathing, within reach and possible to gravitate towards. Surprise quickly painted your face before it was covered by happiness.  

“John! It’s so nice to see you here!” 

“That it is, poppy! I am glad I ran into you! Was just thinking about sending you a message to meet up, pet.”  

If John possessed the powers of reading into minds, he would see you screaming into yours because he thought of you??? He was glad to run into you??? Okay, you had to calm down before melting from happiness right in front of his eyes. You took a subtle deep breath, or at least you hoped it was subtle, before meeting his beautiful eyes again. The both of you were sporting lovesick smiles, happy to finally be in each other’s orbit once more. Checking your watch, you noticed that it was close to your break time. You told him so just before his name was called out to take his order. With a charming smile still on his lips, he pointed to a vacant table with his thumb.  

“Perfect, may I give you company during your break?” So, what if your heart skipped a beat foolishly at the beauty of this man? Only you would know of it and so with a dazzling smile you accepted his invitation. It didn’t matter that you would never have a tangible relationship with this man. You will take whatever you get. As he carried his order with him, he walked the both of you to the table. His other hand itching to hover at your backside. He couldn’t. Not yet. He had to wait. He had to show patience and while he was known by the lads for his cool. You made him feel differently. However, ever the gentleman, he made sure to pull out your chair for you before sitting down himself.  

“How ‘ave you been, poppy?”  

“Ah, you know, quite sore but I wouldn’t dare complain about it!”  

“Yeah? Would apologise to ya, but I enjoyed it too much.” Was said with a cheeky wink on his part. You hummed in confirmation at his words before speaking once more.  

“That and ever since the video has been posted... Well, let’s just say that the toy really does not compare to the real deal.” It was your turn to send him a sly wink. Although, in his eyes, with your cheeks all flushed and your wink, he was just left in complete awe at your beauty and cuteness. He was also left with his dick slowly hardening in his pants. His jaw clenched, his head tilting a bit as he tried to readjust himself in his pants.   

“Jesus, pet, I’m already struggling as it is to keep my hands to myself.” With his legs spread wider underneath the table and his hands placed above, he leaned closer to your space before speaking in a lower tone. “Unless ya want me to bend you over this table and show all the patrons and your coworkers just how badly I’ve missed you, hm?”  

Well, play with fire and get burnt because you were also adjusting yourself underneath the table now. Thighs rubbing together to relieve the pulse growing stronger between your legs. Of course, the motion didn’t go left unnoticed by the bear of a man. Now, it was your turn to lean in his space, his pull on you being too strong to ignore.  

“Hm, what did you want to meet up for anyway?”  

“Ah yes! Well, don’t know if you saw but the viewers were very pleased by our video.” He paused to look at you in confirmation. However, instead of seeing your sweet smile or flushed cheeks, you had leaned back from him with a small pout on your face. Fuck, he hated to see that look on your face. His hands itched to connect with yours, to give you some reassurance, to have the both of you in your own world once more. “What’s that look for, pet?” He couldn’t help himself. As he saw how you were slowly retreating to your own space, he leaned as far as the table let him, his pinkie reaching out to touch you. As he finally allowed himself to have some contact with you, he felt himself breathing easier. At the touch, you allowed yourself to look into his eyes once more, and his heart broke a bit at your dejected look.  

“I didn’t- I didn’t see those kinds of comments when I gathered up the courage to check on what your fans thought.”  

The anger that curled around his ribs at your words was pushed to the side as he looked at you. Your frown deepening and your eyes slowly being filled with tears. He turned his hand upward near your own, trying to communicate that he was there for you. Your eyes quickly looked at his hand before looking back down at your lap. Fuck, this had been going so well and now you were close to crying. Try as he might, he couldn’t leave you with thoughts of yourself like that, and just as he was about to speak, your name was being called.  

You looked at your coworker who looked stressed as more clients entered the café. This was just the beginning of rush hour. You nodded to confirm that you will wrap this conversation up. Before getting up from your seat, you set your watery eyes on John. “I’m sorry, John. Work’s calling.” Just as you were about to escape from the harsh reality you were reminded of, Price gently grabbed your forearm. The grip was firm, and you knew that if you wanted to, you could escape his hold, but did you?  

“Poppy, please.” Whatever that was going to leave your mouth was cut off by your coworker once more. John felt his impatience creeping up on him. His jaw clenched; his nails dug in his free palm as he set his eyes on whoever called you. The hard set of eyes met those of the unfortunate soul. Which was plenty enough for them to quickly look away from the both of you. As he looked back at you, his jaw and hand unclenched. He called your name when you wouldn’t meet his eyes, moving his head in whatever direction your eyes stubbornly followed. His hands found themselves on your biceps, softly squeezing the muscle and fat. Blood and bones underneath his hands, after wishing to hold you for so long, you were finally in his grasp. “I won’t be able to continue on with my day if we part in such ways.” As your eyes finally his, the noises around you were reduced to a slight buzz. “I know we have neither the time nor privacy to talk more about this, but would you be willing to continue this conversation somewhere else?”  

After some seconds of hesitation, you agreed with a nod. Of course, you would listen and agree, you were his good girl after all. He made sure to voice those thoughts and the small quirk of your lips was enough to please him. For now.  

“I really have to go now, John. Just text me the address, alright?” 

“Alright, sweets. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you soon.”  

“I will. See you soon, John.”  

However, instead of letting go, instead of escaping his hold, the both of you stayed in each other’s orbit. Not willing to separate after being apart, even if it had been for a short time, even when you would see each other soon. As you gathered the courage to part with him, you felt his hands move along your body. One of his palms came to rest on your hip while the other rested on the back of your head. Safe in his arms, once more. He leaned in and your eyes closed in anticipation, awaiting his lips to meet yours. However, the kiss didn’t land where you had expected. Instead, the bear of a man gripped you a bit tighter before bringing his lips to your temple. The Captain lingered a bit in that position before moving his hand, grabbing your chin between his pointer and thumb, making sure to hold the eye contact between you two.  

“Can’t wait to see you again, my good girl.” And with that, he left you with a peck on the forehead and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach. ‘This fucking man might just kill me.’  

As you joined your coworkers’ side once more, they side eyed you a bit before getting back to work. You were sure that some of them will ask plenty of questions regarding that little moment between John and you. However, for now, you will treasure seeing him again and ignore your heavy heart.  

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╯╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╯╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ 

Upon his return from the coffee shop, the lads had whined and bitched about their beverages going cold and him taking ages. However, he couldn’t bother more than deliver the drinks and growl to the boys to shut up before he went into the break room. Not when the fallen expression on your face was still imprinted on his mind.  

Now, with his phone beside him, nervous anticipation was running in his system as he waited for his pet to reply. As he was leaning back against the counter, with his arms crossed, the man wondered why he hadn’t just gone home. Of course, the Captain should have expected the muppets to follow him when he wanted some quiet to think. They probably sniffed out that there was more than him being “an old man” that explained his delay. As he was waiting for a reply from you, Johnny and Kyle kept going back and forth while Simon just grunted occasionally.  

“Reckon John ran into someone he knew and just talked their ear off.”  

“What if he pulled a Johnny and forgot that he had a video to shoot?”  

“In ma defence, a lad sometimes forgets he has tae film a public porn video, ken” 

“That type of shit only happens to you, man.”  

“Well, ye dinnae ken that, do ya? Is the bonnie lad correct, Captain?” 

John lifted his eyes to look at the boys in front of him before answering.  

“Simon’s guess is the closest one to being true.”  

A mumbled ‘fucking right’ from Simon reached everyone’s ears. His hand outreached to the other two men. Kyle and Johnny grunted in annoyance before placing money in the man’s palm.  John just watched the scene unfold in amusement. When the boys’ attention returned to him, he could already imagine the ticking bomb that was about to go off. Their minds trying to decipher who had taken hold of his attention for so long. Just as the dozens of questions were about to roll of their tongues, John heard his phone go off.  

He quickly looked to his side and saw your name. Not willing to waste any time, he took off with his phone and said his goodbyes quickly to the lads.  

“Gotta go, boys. My poppy is waiting for me.”  

As the Captain walked rapidly towards the exit, he could hear the boys placing new bets on who he was talking about. Couldn’t give two shits, though. Couldn’t bother to do more than chuckle. Not with you on the forefront of his mind. Price felt adrenaline and excitement shoot through his veins, his pace rapid to reach his car. He was close to trembling at the idea of seeing you, of being close to you once more. While he was pulling his seatbelt, he checked the messages once more.  

Hi, poppy.   Wanted to know if you would be willing to meet up at my house?   Here’s the address: yada yada street, 141 London 

Sure! Could you just pick me up near the store ‘Assortments’ and meet up in two hours?  If that’s okay with you, of course ^^ 

Of course, pet. I’ll be there. 

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╯╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╯╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ 

With sweaty palms and a kaleidoscope of butterflies in your stomach, you were feeling a sense of déja vu as you waited for John on the bench. Today was all about feeling past emotions. When you felt the buzz of your phone, when you were getting ready for John, the feeling of being too nervous and too excited. You hoped he would like your dress; you hoped he would like you.  

With a shake of your head, you dismissed your last thoughts. The only reason you had even met John Price was because you won a contest. This was no love story about soulmates. No, this was harsh reality, and the quicker you got that inside of your brain, the better. Your thoughts were getting more jumbled together. Maybe, this invite was so that he could cut you off... but he was the one who reached out to you. He said he was thinking of you. That couldn’t be just to cut you off, right? Right? Oh, you just wanted to lie down in bed and bury your sorrows. With your head in between your hands, you tried to make sense of the situation.  

“What’s that look for, pet?”  

There it is, again. Past emotions surging back to the surface. Unbothered by the world, by the people walking nearby, John squatted down in front of you. (The look of pain not going unnoticed by you.) His soft blue eyes looking at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite determine. His hands took hold of yours to gently remove them from their positions.  

“John! Were you waiting for me in your car? I’m sorry-”  

“Nah, poppy, don’t worry about none o’ that.” His hands were still in yours and were resting on your lap. Enlaced together, orbiting towards one another. “You ready to go?”  

“Y-yeah, I think I am.”  

His eyes crinkled in the corners, his lips perking up into a soft smile. The sight was enough to bat away the feelings that had crept up to you. By the stars, he was such a pretty man.  

“Alright, pet, come on, then.” So, with his hand still enlaced with one of yours, the man got up from his position. Groaning a bit as he did so, placing his right hand on his lower back. While walking to his car, you chirped a little comment.  

“You know, if your back hurts, I know this great massage place!” He turned his head to look at you properly, only giving you a meh sound, with his smile still on his face. Your lips, in turn, quirked up in a smile at the words leaving you next.  

“Ooor, I’ve been told that I give a pretty good massage.” At this, his lips were painted in a grin now as he replied to you.  

“Yeah? Well, I’d much rather have your hands on my poor back, poppy.” You mirrored his expression, stopping in your tracks since he did as well. As always, with him, you had been too occupied with his beauty that your surroundings turned into a blur. Looking away from his beauty, you realised that you were probably in front his car. The Captain opened the door for you, helping you get inside, helping you fasten the seatbelt. He made sure you were alright before closing your door.  

‘Well, here goes nothing.’  

 ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╯╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╯╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ 

The drive to his house had been surprising comfortable, but you should have known that it was impossible not to feel at easy when you were with John. It hadn’t been a long trip, maybe 20 minutes passed before you reached his house. At the sight of it, you chirped that it represented him well. He thanked you as he parked the car, telling you to stay in your seat. So, you did. You were pleasantly surprised when John had rushed to your side to open the door for you. When he unfastened your seatbelt and took hold of your hand. When you walked side by side to the front of his home.  

Upon entering his house, you had both taken off your shoes. John had asked if you wanted to be shown around, but your stomach’s rumbling had turned his attention to another matter. You had smiled a bit in embarrassment at his chuckle. Then, the bear of a man had guided you to the living room before leaving to the kitchen to make some tea and prepare a snack. Making sure to tell you to feel at home and kiss your forehead before parting ways.  

While you waited for him to return, you inspected your surroundings. This house was exactly what you had imagined. It was true when they said that your living space was a reflection of yourself. The home didn’t feel like a bachelor pad. No, instead, it felt warm and comforting. Adjectives you would use for John. You were seated on one of the armchairs, feeling as thought you were on a cloud. With your knees pulled to your chest, you cherished being surrounded by John’s smell. He must spend lots of time in this place.  

You breathed it in, eyes closing in satisfaction. With the sounds coming from the kitchen, and your feeling of bliss, you could pretend while you waited. You could pretend that this was just another day. That John felt something for you, that you could feel something for him. That this was just another day in the Price household. Alas, reality wasn’t so kind to you, and you were brought back to the present world.  

When you opened your eyes, you saw John walking in with a tray in his hands. A smile still on his face. ‘What a pretty man.’  

“Here you go, poppy.” He placed the tray on the table in front of you. Taking a seat on the sofa on your right side. 

“Thank you so much, John. You didn’t need to do so much.” The tray was full of things. He really had taken the time to prepare this. The thought warned your chest, feeling something blossoming in your ribs. As soon as the thoughts started to pop in, they burst into nothing. No, John was just a gentleman and a good host. Nothing more, nothing less.  

“None o’ that, pet. Didn’t know how you took your tea, so here’s everything you might need.”  

You thanked him once more, smiling in contentment at the kind gesture. As you prepared your cuppa, the two of you chatted. It was always so easy with him. You couldn’t control the many butterflies flying in your stomach, fighting to be let out. To be let free.  

You couldn’t know just how badly John was having his own battle at the same time. How badly he wanted you. How he yearned to have you in his home like this every day, sitting in his favourite armchair with a face of contentment. You looked so at home, so at peace, sitting with your eyes closed in happiness. John’s eyes crinkled as he took in the view. Suddenly, he remembered your stomach grumbling in annoyance and picked up the plate of biscuits. As it nudged your hand, you opened your eyes. They were so full of warmth. He could only hope that the words leaving his mouth won’t dampen the light in them.  

“Here take one, pet.” You softly thanked him, taking two biscuits in your hand. Your stomach was so happy to receive food that you did a little dance of happiness as you ate. John’s cheeks were starting to ache from happiness, you looked so beautiful. “I hope I don’t disturb your mood by saying this, poppy, but how about we continue our conversation from earlier?” Your chewing slowed, your stomach feeling heavier for a different reason other than food. You didn’t really want to think about the mean words, again, but John- You could trust John. Right?  

Sensing the hesitance from you, he reassured you that it didn’t have to be now if you didn’t want it to be. That didn’t mean that you would never have this talk thought, but he was willing to go at your own pace, ready to follow your lead. Even if you had only spent most of your time together in... a particular position, you trusted this man, and so you agreed to talk.  

You talked about the comments you had found under his public channel. How they had made you feel small. How you had tried to ignore them, but their cruelty would come back as whispers. It was when tears had gathered in your eyes that John took hold of your hand and pulled you out of your seat to be seated next to him. Within reach to be able to wipe down the tears that slid down your cheeks. He whispered words of encouragement and praise in the hopes to help you calm down. You wanted to stay there indefinitely, and yet you knew that this could not be. At the thought, fresh new tears slid down your tears and John’s frown deepened. His concern and fury mixing in together in his rib cage. Tendrils mingling with one another and circling his every bones.  

He told you that he would turn off his comments until his fans learnt to be respectful. That he would go as far as making the videos private if it meant you would have some peace of mind. Immediately, you refused. You couldn’t let him make such a big decision for little ol’ you. This was his way to pay the bills, to pay the groceries. You wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you knew that he was running short on money due to you being sensitive.  

“And I wouldn’t be able to rest easy if I knew that you were crying like this because of mean trolls, pretty girl.” His hands never left you; they were always touching some skin. Gently caressing your cheeks, making sure no tears were left. He didn’t know if he was doing it to reassure you or himself. 

You weren’t going to agree on this topic, for now. So, you opted to change directions, in the hopes of forgetting about it altogether. (You should know better.) When you felt his hands retract, you quickly grabbed them. Reaching out to him, fingers tracing small circles on his palms, feeling how his rough his hands were, and yet they always handled you with care.  

“Anyway, what- you wanted to talk about something else earlier, right?” Your head tilted as you asked, and John felt his heart ready to burst at the sight. How were you so beautiful?  

“Yes! Yes, I wanted to talk to you about something my team and I discussed.” He took a deep breath, waiting for a sign from you to continue. You nodded and he dutifully obeyed, opening his mouth to deliver words at your lap. “They noticed positive feedback from this type of content. Told me it’d be good business to keep on going.”  

“That’s good. I’m glad for you, John!” You smiled at him all sweetly, perfect poppy that you were. Your smile remained on your face as your eyebrows slightly scrunched in confusion, fingers stopping their movements. “Although, I don’t see how that involves us having a talk? Unless...” You looked at him with eyes full of emotions. Uncertainty being the lead dancer in your irises. 

“Well, told my team that I completely agreed with them, of course.” Price tried his best not to get too excited, continuing the movements you had stopped to redirect his energy somewhere. “They wanted me to do it with someone from the studio, but well,” Even with the skin contact you both had. It didn’t feel enough. It felt like he would orbit out of your gravitational pull if he kept on going like this. He wanted, nay, he needed to explode, interlink your world with his. Your eyes wouldn’t leave his and that was a good sign as any to keep on talking. “told them that the fans were asking for you, poppy.”  By the way your eyebrows shot to your hairline, you hadn’t expected those words to come out of his mouth. With a stunned voice, you voiced your emotions.  

“I don’t understand- I am not-”  

“I know, I know, but you’re a breath of fresh air for the fans, pet. You don’t hold back on your expressions, on the sounds you make, they eat that up.”  

“...I’m- but what about you, John? Wouldn’t you rather deal with a professional? Wouldn’t you rather do this with someone else other than me?”  

That was what his team had told him. He had been quite in denial at the start. Reasoning with them that he was just trying to please the fans. That his insistence that it was you and not someone else was purely for the business. What a fool he had been to have thought that, to have believed that for even a second.  

“Pet, you wouldn’t be here right inside of my house right now if I wanted someone else.” 

Your hands left his, attempting to ground yourself, to believe the words that were leaving his mouth.  

“So, what are you saying? What do you want me to do?”  

“Nothing that you don’t feel comfortable doing of course.” You nodded because that was obvious from the get-go. “To sum it up, I want to make more videos with you. We’ll share the profits 50/50, of course. The themes would be similar to our first video. Soft and nice, poppy, just how you like it.” His pointer and thumb quickly took hold of your chin, snapping you back from your thoughts, from the mess of words in your head. When your eyes found his, he smiled just like how he always did when it was directed towards you and released your face.  

“Where will you post those videos? And how many times would you need to do this per month?” 

“Everything would be on the private channel. Of course, any raw footage will be sent to you, anyway. As for how many times, I can’t tell you quite, yet. We can work around your schedule, but maybe we could do a session every week? We can work out the details later if you agree to this.” You nodded in thoughts, attentively listening to every word dropped from him. “I understand that you would need time to think this through. That’s no problem, please take the ti-” 

“Yes.” It was now John’s turn to have his eyebrows shoot to his hairline.  

“Pet, are you su-”  

“Yes, I am sure.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Pletonic yandere king and queen of hearts?

^Source

Platonic Yandere Queen and King of Hearts

“Have some more tea.”

“Uh thank you, your majesty.”

You gave a thankful nod to the servant, biting back the urge to repeat the sentiment. Shifting your attention to the cup of tea, you held your cup to your lips with practiced care. With a tentative glance directed at her, the Queen gave you a nod to which you continued to sip.

“You’ve only had a few crumpets, love. Here have some more.”

The King unceremoniously poured the plate of biscuits onto your tiny platter, smiling as he poured the entirety of the honey bail onto it. You gave him a nod before indulging, careful not to smudge your makeup. 

Things had been truly bizarre since you had fallen into the rabbit hole behind your dear friend. Able to traverse the land together it seemed that for as mad as this world seemed there were set rules. Specifically, one that made your dearest friend be called Alice. It was grating to hear others call your friend a name that was not their own; even worse you were hardly acknowledged. Many would straight-up ignore you or tilt their heads at you and ask your name. It was oddly alienating for this world to encourage your friend to commit to this role claiming a prophecy be fulfilled. And then simply sighing when it came to you, being just as clueless as you.

In a way it gave you the freedom to do as you pleased able to travel all around Wonderland, getting to know those who were capable of acknowledging your existence. Some of which had been those in the Heart’s kingdom. 

“Now that is settled with we can begin talks of this Alice-character. I believe it’d be best if we capture her and behead her as soon as we have them! ”

She waved her own tea cup around, haphazardly spilling her tea all about her. Making you wonder why she spent energy lecturing you at all. Her husband sighed, hands on his round rosy cheeks watching you eat the honey-covered crumpet. 

“Mmmm, that’s nice dear.”

You dabbed at your mouth, running your tongue over your teeth in hopes of clearing any remains of the sticky treat. Wouldn’t want to have any distractions while you fought your point.

“Perhaps there can be another way…a more peaceful option?” 

Focusing on your cup of tea, you looked into the reflection of the organ-shaped teapot. Watching as the queen’s face seemed to scrunch before she turned to you. With her crimson-painted nails, she held your face, turning your head to the left then to the right. 

“Of course not dear, violence is the only option. Now, King, they’re looking a bit gaunt, yes?”

“Of course dear.”

Once again you’re plea was ignored by the two of them who were now conversing intensely about how much more you needed to be eating. After all a proper royal heir was plump and well fed, they couldn’t have others of the court thinking you weren’t being fed properly. Huffing through your nose you dismissed yourself hardly waiting for the Queen’s release before making your way out of the hearts maze. Being sure you were far enough for your angry mumbles and stomping was out of their earshot. So caught up in your huffy exit you nearly ran over the rabbit frantically calling your name.

“Oh! W.B. I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I-it it is just fine, your majesty.”

“Your majesty, W.B. are you…have you been drinking hatter’s tea.”

“What?! No-well th-this might have s-something to do with just that.” 

He shuffled through his pockets, ears twitching along with his nose. The poor creature was really worked up. With a shaky hand(?) (or foot?) he gave you a scroll, an unstamped document that rolled over your feet when you opened it. You read through the first lines of cursive before double-taking running your thumb over the dried ink. 

“I, the Queen and King of Hearts, hereby declare that whosoever be appointed as the royal heir by their decree must adhere to the following rules and regulations—oh my gosh! I think I’m going to be sick.”

You haphazardly dropped the scroll to the ground, running past the rabbit who fumbled with the policy. The ‘rules and regulations’  that were spoken of told of horrible and gruesome punishments for those that so much as thought of slighting you. Being called ‘majesty’ or ‘young highness’ was one of them. Punishment for the accused was the equivalent of a scorched or ‘beheaded’ tongue, it was appalling to imagine. 

Torn by rage and helplessness you ran–out of the maze past the unpainted roses and idle card soldiers. You couldn’t stand to be here any further from your dearest friend, your dearest Alice while your company plotted to kill them. 

You were done.

Done with the absurdity of this world.

It was time to put a stop to it all. 

As you should’ve from the beginning.

Before they were wooed by Wonderland’s love for Alice.

Before they threatened their safety.

Before the others threatened you.

It was time to go.

Running with abandon you tore through the vegetation, uncaring of the way it stuck to your heart and card-patterned garments. Tearing at the seams of posh confinement you discarded different articles as the tearing branches demanded. Forging on you spied the bushel you had left your dearest compatriot to hide inside. Worry bubbled in your tummy as you noted the crumbs of a soft pastry caking your hands as you kneeled to the ground; forcing your eyes to roam through the blades of grass. 

“There you are!” 

You scooped them up, supporting their small form as you sat on your heels.

“Where on Earth did you find another shrinking cake!?”

They shrugged their shoulders and nervously dragged their foot along your palm as they continued to pout. You had to listen carefully but you could hear them. Fully used to their illogical desire for any available food—starved or full it must be eaten–you scolded them lightly. 

“Look, we don’t have time to fight about this…we have to leave the Queen is determined to have your head. I have a sneaking suspicion she’d not going to care whether your head’s the size of a sugar cube.” 

You patted yourself down, searching for the perfect place to tuck your miniature companion away. Finding the only space was the loose fabric around a makeshift pocket near your chest. With a little protest, your tiny friend climbed in, prepared for the jostling journey ahead. 

“Hey it’ll be okay, by this time tomorrow we’ll finally be away from this horrid place.”

“You’re right this is a horrid place, so far from the castle grounds! Guards! I want this patch of weed burned to the ground!”

You slowly rose to your feet hiding your friend with crossed arms. Dressed in battle wear: a spiny red armor the queen over a tightly fitted dress; the crimson wisps of her makeup were harsher and more violent than before, coupled with the dark eyeliner of a smoky eye. She sat on the back of some tortured creature that seemed to sport a glare at you of its own. skin–a pulsing pink, littered with pus-filled wounds, and stray wisps of hair and feather. 

“Your high–”

“Hush!”

Her red claws nails touched and you sealed your lips. She sent a glare to the ground below her beast only shifting her seat before sending her narrowed gaze. 

“Only an hour in the jungle and you’ve adapted their savage ways? Where are your manners, (Y/n)?!”

“Uhm your maje-”

“HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?!”

You could only helplessly flutter your lips at her screaming. Nearly shaking as you fought tears you held your ground. 

“I-I don’t understand what it is you want.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “So you have forgotten. You are still a child; misguided and ill-remembering.”

“What?! Wait hold on–”

“Now listen well child, you are to call me your mother and your father–your father. Do you understand?”

“But you’re not my–”

“GUARDS! Take the child back to the palace, the war that is to come is one I’d prefer you watch with lunch on the side.”

“Wh-agh!” 

Four card guards took your limbs and held you high. Ignoring your wriggling and protests, you nearly forgot about your hidden companion. No doubt clinging to the fabric of your clothes in the midst of your sudden struggle. You stilled only bobbing at the marching pace of the soldiers looking at the twisted perspective of the Queen ordering her troupes to move. She turned to you barely looking over her shoulder as her pointed teeth showed from behind her crimson lips.

“I’ll return when I’ve rid you of the parasite Alice! In the meantime brush up on the rules you silly child. No longer will you deny your right as my young heir. Ta-ta!”

With a wave of her hand and the crack of a whip, she moved with the procession. 

Out to behead your dearest Alice and all of those who stood in her way.

Who was safely tucked within the fabric of your dressings.

[holylulusworld]

Mr. Holmes Maid (2)

Summary: You’re his maid.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Maid!Reader

Warnings: angst, power imbalance, dub-con (just in case) cuddling/sharing a bed, master-servant relationship, the reader was an orphan, mentions of physical abuse against the reader (childhood/implied), inappropriate behavior

Mr. Holmes’ maid (1)

Mr. Holmes’ maid masterlist

Four months after Sherlock came to your room for the first time, one of his former classmates came for a visit.

Everything was normal. You prepared tea and biscuits. While you followed the strict codes of conduct and were not allowed to speak to Sherlock’s guest, he wouldn't stop asking you questions you didn't want to answer. The man didn’t want to take the hint that you were uncomfortable around him.

His hand brushed against your bottom more than once, and he shamelessly stared at your chest.

“I wondered why Sherlock had a maid all for himself. Now I know,” he grinned and patted his lap. “Why don’t you give me the same treatment you give your master.”

“I-“ you didn’t know how to react. This man was just awful, but you weren’t able to fight him. You were only a maid, and he was your master’s friend.

“What’s going on here?” Sherlock came just in time to save you. He cocked his head and watched you whimper in distress. You never acted like that. Not in front of him, or his brother.

“I only offered your maid to sit on my lap, my friend,” the man patted his big tummy. “Maybe she likes me more than you. You’re always so…strict.”

“We are rather acquaintances, than friends. I haven’t heard from you for years,” Sherlock stepped toward you to stand by your side. “Maid, please retreat. We have to discuss manners you wouldn’t understand.”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you never felt more relieved than in that moment. The man scared you in more than one way.

You curtsied and left the room, walking as fast as your feet would carry you.

All you wanted was to be away from this man and his demands.

Your loyalty belongs only to your master, Sherlock Holmes.

“This person,” Sherlock angrily entered your room. He cursed under his breath, using words you never thought belonged to his vocabulary. Your master was angry. Why, you didn’t know. “How dare he come here believing he can offer me money to get my maid.”

“What?” You sat up on the bed, suddenly wide awake. “I don’t understand.”

“He called me rude and unreasonable because I didn’t want to hand my maid over to him,” Sherlock pushed his locks out of his face. “I haven’t heard of him for years, and he comes here to steal my maid.”

You didn’t understand. Why would a man you never saw before come to Sherlock to get you? Your lips wobbled and you felt like a cold hand gripped your heart.

“Do not fret, my dear,” Sherlock said. “I sent him home, not without giving him what he deserved.”

You glanced at Sherlock, shocked at the sight of his split knuckles.

“Mr. Holmes,” you got up from the bed to take care of his hands. “We need to clean the wounds. Let me help you.”

“I cleaned the split skin,” he said, and gently ran his index finger over your cheek. He hummed and watched your shoulders relax. “He will never bother us again. We should rest now.”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you murmured, already used to sleeping in one bed with your master. “I changed the sheets and got you another blanket. It’s getting colder, and you are not used to the cold.”

“So sweet,” he cupped your chin with his index finger and thumb. “I wonder if your lips taste sweet too.” Sherlock leaned closer. His lips almost touched yours when he dropped his hand and stepped away from you. “I-I should…no…I need to reread a few papers. Have a good night.”

Sherlock left your chamber and didn’t return that night. It was the first night you spent alone, and you felt cold and lonely.

“Mr. Holmes, there is a letter for you,” you shyly glanced at Sherlock. He was engrossed in reading another letter. “I have finished my chores for today. I’ll retreat to my chamber to knit.”

“Wait—” He suddenly got up. “I need your opinion on something.” Sherlock walked out of his office to get a blanket. “I got it for the winter. You said it’s cold in your chamber and I thought of you.”

Sherlock pushed the blanket into your hands and turned his attention toward the letter without waiting for your answer. Your heart fluttered. He got a warm and soft blanket for you, and it meant the world to you.

“Have a good night, Mr. Holmes.”

You woke like any other night with Sherlock’s arms locked around your body like anchors holding you to him.

“You’re awake,” Sherlock murmured your name. “Why?”

“There is no reason,” you whispered, afraid to tell him the truth. You woke because of a bad dream – or rather a memory from the past. This happens once in a while if you allow yourself to think of the past too much.

“Do not lie to me, maid,” he sounded angry, and you flinched. “You were crying in your sleep and tried to get away from me.”

Forced to tell him the truth you took a deep breath. “I had a bad dream,” you sniffled. “I dreamed of the orphanage I spent my childhood at. The children called me names, and the nuns hit me with a ruler.”

“You never told me that you grew up in an orphanage,” he sounded surprised, and his tone softened. “Why did you never tell me?”

“I’m here to serve, not for chatter. That’s what I've been told all my life. I didn’t think it was important,” you murmured. Sherlock never asked questions about your childhood. He only cared about your reputation and your cleaning skills.

He inhaled sharply. A habit when something angers him.

“I need to know every detail. Details are important,” he said. “I want you to tell me everything about your past. Now!”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you hoped he’d lose interest and forget about your nightmare in the morning. “I was all alone, and the other children didn’t like me. No one ever told me why they didn’t like me. I tried anything but…” You wiped your eyes. “No one ever wanted me.”

“You’re here now,” Sherlock whispered in your ear. “Safe and sound.”

The night was shorter than usual. Someone yelled Sherlock’s name and harshly knocked at the door. You woke, startled by the man screaming your master’s name.

“Open the door!” the man yelled even louder. “You dishonored my wife!”

“Y/N, I want you to stay here and try to get more sleep. Let me handle this,” Sherlock slipped out of bed and grabbed his robe. He threw it on and left your room.

You couldn’t go back to sleep. His warmth left your body, and your teeth chattered. Scared you listened closely as the man calmed and repeatedly apologized to your master.

“People these days,” Sherlock reentered your room, closing the door with a loud thud. “He dared to come to my home and scare my—” He looked at you, unsure what you are to him. “Never mind. He came to the wrong house.”

You nodded and lifted the covers. “Are you alright, Mr. Holmes.”

“Of course, Y/N,” he took his robe off and joined you in your bed again. “We will sleep a little bit. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

“Mr. Holmes, what a pleasure to see you,” the owner of the boutique spluttered, obviously excited that the infamous and wealthy detective came to his boutique again. “What brings me the pleasure of your presence.”

The man smiled widely and almost drooled all over your master. You got ignored, like most of the time. Well, your simple dress and appearance don’t catch the eye of many people. In the end, you’re only a peasant, not a person to most of the people you meet.

“I need a new wardrobe for my—,” Sherlock cleared his throat when you didn’t react, “maid. Y/N, come here.”

“Mr. Holmes,” you were surprised he told the man that the dresses and winter coat he ordered weren’t for Enola, his sister, and ward. “Do you want me to have a look at the dresses for your sister?”

He sighed, exasperated. If Sherlock hated one thing, it was waiting time. “The dresses are for you. I need you to try one on. I don’t want to waste my money on dresses not suiting you.”

“I-“Confused you look at the owner of the boutique. He looked as shocked as you.

“I need her to represent the household, Holmes. I cannot let her run around in a torn dress,” Sherlock touched the back of your dress, gripping it tightly until you heard a ripping sound. “See, the material is the worst. I have a reputation to protect.”

“Mr. Holmes,” the man nodded eagerly. He called for his wife to help you try on one of the dresses. “Of course.”

Sherlock hummed and looked around the boutique. He wasn’t interested in buying another vest or coat. Your master tried to distract himself to not follow you and watch you redress. He was a gentleman after all…

“Oh, look at you,” the boutique owner’s wife cooed. She told you to look in the mirror. The woman in the mirror staring back at you wasn’t you. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

The biscuit and rose-colored silk bustle dress with lace trimmings fitted you like it was made for you. “It’s beautiful,” you replied, but didn’t know what else to say. You've never worn a dress like this before. In lack of words, you remained silent.

“Let me get Mr. Holmes,” she finally said and left you alone with your racing heart. Why would he buy you a dress like this? Maybe it was another test. He’d buy it for his sister, or some other woman and wanted to remind you of your place.

“What do you think, Mr. Holmes?” She came back with your master by her side.

Sherlock looked you up and down in the new dress. He hummed and clasped both hands behind his back while going around you.

“It’s well done,” he said. “I’m satisfied with your handiwork. Let’s try on the others,” Sherlock stopped right in front of you to watch you drop your gaze. “Shall we?”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you murmured, unsure how to react to his behavior. “What do you want me to try on next?”

He cocked his head to glance at the dresses. “The red one. I liked it the most.” Sherlock followed you. Hand brushing over your back. “I hope you like it as much as I do. You will look beautiful in it.” He whispers the last part.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Sherlock’s hand on your back felt warm and soothing, still, it was inappropriate. He openly showed affection toward a peasant.

This could ruin his reputation, and yours…

Part 3

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[maraschinomerry]

Rock Paper Scissors

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader, background Locklyle

Summary: George is your best friend, Lucy's convinced there's more to it but he's not your type... is he?

Content: friends to lovers, oblivious flirting, misunderstanding, light swearing and suggestive thoughts, kisses

A/N: it's officially 1 year since I posted my first Lockwood & Co fic!! Thank you all for making it such an incredible year and continuing to support my writing, it means the world to me ❤️ and thank you to the Multiverse of George for fuelling the buff!George fire 🔥 I've even made a montage so everyone can see the vision, plus the gif above of George swinging the chains he's definitely strong 💪

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

Ever since you'd started working for Lockwood & Co, you and George had had the most playful rivalry.

It had started on the very first day, when you came for your interview. Lucy had welcomed you into the living room while George went to fetch the biscuits. After breezing through the tests, Lockwood gestured to the plate still being clutched by the other boy.

“Biscuit?”

You frowned at the boy in the armchair, who looked like the last thing he wanted to do was to share. “Am I supposed to fight you for them or something?”

George had the audacity to snort. “In your dreams.” But then he did offer you the plate, albeit reluctantly.

Once you got used to one another, you found that you actually got on really well and gradually he became your best friend, but by then you'd set a precedent that neither of you wanted to drop.

“We're heading out soon,” Lucy informed you both as she slid cups of tea across the table. She and Lockwood had an appointment with a client, leaving you and George behind to keep working. “Can one of you oil the chains ready for tonight?”

You turned to George; he was already looking at you. A gleam came to his eye.

“Rock paper scissors?”

“You bet,” you grinned, already raising your hand. It took a few attempts, as you'd done it so many times by now that the two of you knew what each other was planning before it happened, but eventually you lost. Sticking your tongue out, you picked up your cup and headed towards the basement. Lucy followed you down.

“Can I ask you something?” she began cautiously.

“Course you can.” It wasn't like Lucy to not just ask straight out. This was odd.

“What's going on with you and George?” This was definitely odd. “It feels like you've gone past teasing, you're almost flirting with each other.”

Your gaze flew to your friend, who had lingered on the stairs. Was she being serious? “It's not like that, Luce,” you replied, wondering if it was warm in the basement or if it was just you. “I love him to bits, but the same way I love all of you. He's just not my type.”

Her eyebrow quirked up at that. “You have a type?”

“Don't say that like you don't,” you hit back. “You and Lockwood are made for each other! And George is great, really, but I prefer guys a bit more… buff?”

Lucy nodded. “Interesting.” It was spoken with the air of someone who knew exactly why it was interesting and someone who was absolutely not going to explain why. “Well… just don't rule anything out, but please be careful. I love you both too and I'd hate to see either of you get hurt.”

It was touching to hear her so candid about her feelings for you both. “I won't, I promise.”

—

You always forgot how ridiculously heavy the chains were. Just trying to hoist them up to make sure you'd oiled all the way round each joint was a workout. It was only adrenaline that carried you through working with them on cases. Thank goodness you were almost finished - your arms were beginning to ache and you were sure you were coated in sweat.

“Need a hand?” George's voice drifted from the stairs. You hadn't heard him come down, probably drowned out by the clanking links and your strained grunts, but there he was, sitting on one of the lower steps and watching you in amusement.

“You mean you want me to dishonour the sacred pact of rock paper scissors?” You mimed fainting in shock, taking the opportunity to slump back on the pile of chains and let the tension dissipate from your shoulders.

He chuckled, climbing down the final few steps and holding out his hand. “Will the sacred pact allow a lunch break? I made soup.” He'd got you there and he knew it. You loved his soup. Grinning, you accepted his hand and he pulled you away from the cold, hard metal.

There were two steaming bowls already set out on the table when you got back to the kitchen, and beside yours was a plate of sandwiches, cut exactly how you liked them.

“You're the best.”

“I know,” George smirked. He was eating with one hand, the other scribbling away on the Thinking Cloth. As he became more engrossed, he leant further forwards, his dark curls flopping over his brow. It was fascinating watching him get so engrossed in his work, the whole world melting away around him. Once you finished eating, you glanced across and took his empty bowl from in front of him. He looked up sharply, snapped from wherever his thoughts had taken him.

“Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you,” you mumbled.

“No, it's fine. We should probably get packed.”

You followed him down to the basement and pulled your kit bags from the shelf. Set side by side on the table, you both began to load up.

“You can carry the chains,” you told him over your shoulder as you picked up a half-empty box of flares and emptied it into your bag.

“Hey, you're the one who lost!”

“Only for cleaning them, I've done my bit.”

He huffed, but gave you a smile as he made his way over to the mound of chains. Your eyes widened as he scooped up a whole length in one easy movement and gave them a quick shake loose. You'd spent nearly quarter of an hour trying to manoeuvre that section earlier.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“They're not that heavy,” he shrugged, then added with a cheeky raised eyebrow, “or at least only when you’re trying to clean them.”

You threw the empty cardboard box at his head with a laugh.

—

A week later, the four of you were nestled in the living room. Outside, rain battered against the windows, which were almost being shaken out of their frames by the driving wind. You'd never have guessed it was June; it felt more like January. The fire was lit in the hearth, the occasional crackle of wood splitting the only other sound.

Eventually, Lockwood broke the silence. “I hate to say it, but someone's going to have to go out. We've got no tea left and barely enough food to last until tonight. We can draw straws to make it fair.”

He needn't have bothered. You and George already had your fists raised. One, two, three, paper. One, two, three, rock. Scissors. Paper. Scissors. Rock. Round and round you went, the symmetry only fuelling your competitive natures.

“This is ridiculous,” Lucy muttered. She was right, of course.

You raised your fist higher, leaning forward in an offered challenge. “Right. Arm wrestle. Loser goes.”

George leaned in, resting his elbow on the table. Lockwood and Lucy exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“Y/n…” Lucy began, but you weren't listening. Your elbow was already mirroring George's, hand in his. You weren't sure why you'd expected the easy, flexible grip of holding a rapier, but his fingers were clenched firmly around the back of your hand. Lockwood moved closer and counted you down.

Your hand hit the table almost immediately.

It felt like all the air had left the room. You stared in shock at the boy opposite, the triumphant toothy grin that crinkled his eyes, the unexpected tightness of his shirt sleeve around his arm. The similar tightness in your chest. Interesting.

Some sort of realisation hit you, and your attention shifted to Lucy. The look she was giving you was almost as satisfied as George's. Warmth flooded your cheeks. You drew in a shaky breath as you struggled to drag your eyes away from George's arm, which was still pinning yours to the table. After a moment, you felt his fingers loosen and with some reluctance pulled your hand away. The silence in the room was palpable. Lucy was still watching you in amusement. Lockwood was watching Lucy, trying to figure out why she had that “I know something you don't” look again over a simple arm wrestle. George was watching you too, his expression slowly shifting from victory to concern.

“Y/n? You okay?” he asked quietly. Your thoughts rushed back into your body, snapping your attention into the real world.

“All good,” you mumbled. “Just preparing to get drenched. If I'm not back in 20 minutes, assume I've been blown to the other end of the country.” At least that got a laugh out of Lockwood. Hurriedly, you stood and made your way to the front door. Why had you agreed to this? It was your own fault, of course, for continuing this whole competitive thing with George, but how were you to know he was that strong? A flash of bicep clouded your vision again, and you reached for the door handle before you did something regrettable.

“Hold on,” a voice came behind you. It was him. Keep it together, you told yourself.

“If you're about to volunteer to take my place, go ahead,” you forced yourself to stay casual.

George moved closer, and you swallowed a lump in your throat. “I was actually going to question why you looked like you were about to leave without a coat.” He reached to the rack over your shoulder, lifting yours from its hook.

“That might help.” You knew you were blushing again, but prayed he thought it was just from embarrassment at being so forgetful. Definitely not how close he was, how he was holding your coat in the same hand that had been holding yours moments ago.

—

By the time you made it back to the house, you were soaked to the bone and almost shivering. It seemed like the storm wasn't going to let up until at least the next day, so you'd decided to stock up on plenty of food which had seemed like a great idea until you tried to carry it all home. You'd had to stop several times on the way, ducking into doorways and bus shelters to escape the weather as you swapped hands, flexed your shoulders or relieved your fingers from where the handles of the bags had started to make dents. When you finally made it, you held the door open with one foot as you negotiated the bags in and dropped them unceremoniously on the hall floor. George emerged from the living room, alone this time; Lockwood and Lucy must have gone upstairs or down to the basement.

“You look awful.”

“Aww thanks, you're not so bad yourself,” you joked dryly. Oh god, Lucy was right, you were almost flirting. A shiver ran through you and this time you hoped it was from the cold.

For a second, you thought you saw George's eyelids flutter. “Well, I uh… I ran you a bath to warm you back up. I'll put this away.” He hauled up the bags of shopping with barely a huff, and you tried to reason that he hadn't just carried them through a storm.

The water was soothingly warm and scented with lavender salts, the smell wafting up in delicate bursts as it swirled around, relaxing all the tension in your aching muscles. As you lay peacefully, you reflected on what had happened earlier. You weren't sure you'd ever felt… You couldn't even identify what feelings you'd experienced during the arm wrestle. Shock? Embarrassment? No. It was something else, something that Lucy had noticed immediately and had been trying to get through to your oblivious self. But she was wrong, wasn't she? You said it yourself, you weren't into George, even if he did now fulfil your main criteria. Then again, so did plenty of other guys you'd met. Kipps was quite well built, definitely had muscles, but that didn't mean you'd considered dating him. He wasn't like George though - smart, funny, thoughtful George. You couldn't imagine Kipps running you a bath or making your favourite lunch, or doing any number of the things that with George felt so natural. And there were all the little things you did for him that you'd never do for anyone else. No, there were no two ways about it: you were a pair in whatever capacity that meant.

Still didn't mean you fancied him, you told yourself.

You volunteered to help George with the dishes after dinner that night. It was always nice to be able to spend time just the two of you in sync, but tonight especially you figured it was a good idea to be around him in perfectly normal circumstances. You'd chat or enjoy the companionable quiet, you'd both be at ease; nothing could possibly happen, which would give you time to prove your feelings were a fluke.

George picked up his blue rubber gloves and tossed you a tea towel. He was dressed casually, in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt (so large that the sleeves almost met his gloves at the elbow). The radio was playing quietly in the background, giving you a welcome distraction. Whenever a song you recognised came on, you'd start humming along or singing under your breath, and George would smile at you, sometimes even joining in. Your heart leapt a bit when he did, but that was nothing, you were just happy to be sharing this moment with your friend. He stuck an arm deeper into the sink to grab something at the bottom and made a small noise. Water had splashed up onto the cuff of his sleeve. You giggled at the look of disgust he made at the wet fabric sticking to his skin. The sound died in your throat when he took off his gloves, draped them on the side of the sink and rolled his sleeves up out of the way. You were so used to him being hidden behind his giant tops, or at the very least being in longer sleeved shirts, that seeing his bicep completely exposed was a shock in more ways than one. It wasn't much wonder he'd beaten you so easily at arm wrestling with muscles like that. You wondered whether it was just his arms that were so toned, or was the rest of him the same? Was he hiding a set of abs under that T-shirt too? Were his thighs-

“You okay?” George nudged you, and you hastily looked away.

“I was just…” Come on, come on, find an excuse, your brain urged. “...thinking how this means we both got wet clothes today, if you want me to put that top in with my washing after this?” God that was lame. Not much wonder he wasn't interested in you. That wasn't the point, you reminded yourself.

“Oh,” he smiled. “That'd be great, thanks.” He leant over to put a chopping board on the draining rack, and his bicep brushed against yours. A shockwave of warmth resonated through your whole body. Oh.

“Tell you what,” you forced yourself not to stammer, “are you okay to finish up here and I'll go and grab the laundry basket?” He nodded, and you tried not to fall over your own feet as you retreated to the hallway and sucked in a breath to calm your racing heart. Oh.

—

You cursed yourself for ever starting this. No, this was Lucy's fault for pointing it out. No, still your fault.

Being around George was becoming unbearable. Not for anything he'd done, rather the things he wasn't doing. He was carrying on exactly as he always had, that inimitable blend of playful and caring, and it was driving you mad not knowing whether he meant any of it in the way you wanted him to. You couldn't say anything, of course. If you were wrong, it would mess up the whole dynamic of the group. That would hurt almost as much as any rejection. But the more things went on, the more you took notice of the little moments between you, the more your feelings grew until it felt like they would crawl out of your chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” George snapped at Lockwood. He and Lucy had been out on a case which went badly, and now the four of you were sitting at the dining table in the early hours, George applying butterfly stitches to a cut on Lockwood's arm and you cleaning a couple of scratches on Lucy's face. The misty gloom of the night outside the window reflected the atmosphere within.

“I was thinking,” Lockwood snapped back, “that we only had to handle a couple of Type Ones, according to your notes.”

“I told you those weren't finished!”

“Well maybe next time, don't get distracted.” Was it your imagination, or had his gaze flickered to you?

“Maybe next time,” George replied darkly, “do your own research.”

“Fine.” Lockwood pushed his chair back and stalked from the room. Lucy shot you both an apologetic grimace and followed.

George began pacing round the kitchen, hands twitching angrily. You stayed at the table, knowing it was best to give him the space to say or do whatever he needed to let his feelings out. You were there if he needed you.

“Can you believe him?” It was rhetorical, you'd heard him say it enough to know, so you waited for him to continue. “We end up in this situation almost every week, because he's too reckless to wait! I know he'd rather be in the action, but he'd be able to do all that more if he'd let me give him the right information first.”

You gently waded in, trying to be reassuring. “We all know how useful your research is; he just gets overeager, especially when Lucy's involved.”

“I know you know how important it is,” his words sent butterflies through you, “but Lockwood just…” He gave a frustrated huff. “Maybe I should make him do all the legwork for a change.” You tried very hard not to think about whether George's legs were as muscular as his arms.

“I'll support whatever you decide, but for what it's worth I think you should just talk to him.”

He sighed heavily, placing his hands flat on the table and allowing his head to drop. “You're right. Thanks, y/n.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, as did his deep brown eyes as he raised his head to look at you. You were already distracted by the tension which lingered in his shoulders, the rigidity of his arms as they supported his weight, the way he had leaned into the pose so much that now when he looked up his face was so close it almost filled your vision. You swallowed nervously.

“Any time. I- I have to go.” You stumbled up from your chair, ignoring George's confused stare and sounds of protest as you practically bolted from the room.

—

You lay on your bed in the attic, tears slowly soaking into the pillow you'd buried your face in. This was the end; it had to be. You couldn't carry on working for the agency like this. If George had shown any interest it would be okay - Lockwood and Lucy managed to balance being a couple who worked and lived together, there was no reason you two couldn't do the same, but it could never work being so one-sided. You'd just keep being weird, struggling to hold your nerve around the boy until it would start bleeding into cases and Lockwood would have no choice but to fire you for everyone's safety, if you hadn't already got one of you hurt by then. Not to mention the emotional hurt. It would happen either way, but at least if you walked away now you could control it.

“Y/n?” Lucy's voice came tentatively from the bottom of the steps. “George said you ran off, is everything okay?”

You flipped onto your back, drawing in shuddering breaths to recover from almost suffocating in the pillow. “You were right, Luce.” There was movement on the steps, but you kept your eyes on the ceiling. You couldn't bear to look at anyone right now. “I tried so hard to make sure neither of us got hurt, but George doesn't love me back and now I feel like even if I stay I'm going to lose him.”

The silence that followed dragged on longer than you could bear. Why wasn't she saying anything? You forced yourself to sit up.

George stood at the entrance to your room, eyes wide and lips parted.

You scrambled to your feet. “Shit! I mean, hi, um… how long have you been there?”

George continued to stare.

“I'm so sorry,” the words were rushing out of you now, “I just panicked but I don't want to make things weird so can we just pretend-”

“What do you mean, ‘doesn't love me back'?” he interrupted quietly.

You froze. There was no mistaking it: he'd heard you basically say you loved him and now there he was looking like the mere concept was so unbelievable, like the option hadn't even crossed his mind. Why would it? Time stretched on as you fought the urge to run again, as far as the ever-widening space between you would allow. Neither of you had moved, but you could feel the room expanding around you to make room for the bottomless pit you wanted to crawl into. “I…” you drew in a slow, deep breath, “I was fine just being friends but Lucy got in my head about you being exactly my type and now I think I'm actually flirting while you're still just pretending and I'm sorry…” Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes and you hurriedly looked away, hoping he wouldn't see.

George stepped closer, and you shrunk even further into yourself. Your heart skipped a beat when he gently tilted your chin up to meet his surprisingly soft gaze. “I meant, why do you think I don't love you back?”

You faltered. Was he saying what you thought he was? “Well, I mean, I thought I'd made things super obvious and awkward but you didn't change so I thought you weren't interested.”

George's hand was still on your chin and his thumb rubbed soothingly across your cheek, wiping away the single tear that had spilled. “I thought you weren't interested! You normally go for those muscly gym guys so I figured I'd take whatever I could get with the arm wrestles and stuff, but then you started avoiding me so I thought you were done with it.”

A small laugh escaped you, and he looked at you in confusion. “Have you seen yourself?” Hesitantly, you raised a hand to his bicep, marvelling at finally being able to feel the muscle instead of just staring at it, and more amazed at the way the boy responded to your touch, drifting closer until you were barely inches apart.

“So then why did you run?” His voice was whisper soft against your face, eyes gazing down at you with an overwhelming blend of sincerity, bewilderment and something like longing. His cheeks were tinted as pink as you knew yours were.

“Got flustered.”

“Flustered? You? I don't believe you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, the playfulness you were used to creeping back into his voice. It was such a relief to feel the tension dissipating from the room, to have your George back, that you buried your head in his shoulder with a giggle. He laughed too, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Oh, I see, you really want to do this? Okay, let's see ‘flustered y/n’ at their best.”

You yelped in surprise as his other arm hooked under your legs and swept you off your feet, your arms flying up round his neck for support. His arm was tense across your back but he looked the most relaxed he'd been since he walked in, and he shifted you closer to press a quick kiss to your lips before setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you.

“Lucy's going to be very smug about this, you know,” he nudged you.

“I know,” you whined, burying your face in your hands. “Rock paper scissors for who has to tell her.” George laughed again and placed his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as you leant into the embrace.

“Is this just a ploy to get more hugs?”

“Is it working?”

In response, he brought his other arm around your waist and kissed your forehead. You smiled, leaning up to kiss him properly, and he reciprocated eagerly.

—

Lucy had left George alone on the steps to your room once you started your confession, giving you both a bit of privacy, and decided when he didn't come back downstairs immediately that things had either gone very badly or very well. She believed, and hoped, that it was the latter. Her suspicions were confirmed when she came to tell you she'd made breakfast and found you fast asleep, wrapped in George's arms.

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Shattered

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 3)

A Levi x reader fanfic (Flufftober 2024)

Crossposted from AO3

You being a clutz and scaring the shit out of Levi.

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 1.1k)

(Part one) / (Part two) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

"Follow me", Levi demanded. He had suddenly appeared in front of you.

"That depends", you said. "Will there be tea?"

"Of course", he scoffed. "What do you take me for?"

Next thing you knew, you were in his office, sitting across from him at his desk which was laden with cups of steaming tea and tiny plates filled with biscuits.

"Wow, you went all out. What's the occasion?", you asked excitedly and snatched one of the biscuits off the plate closest to him.

"I need to talk to you."

"Then shoot", you said, warming your hands on the cup in front of you. It smelled heavenly.

"First of all, I need to apologize to you."

You looked up in astonishment. Levi, apologizing? This was unheard of.

"I gave it some thought, and I realized I was wrong. If it's about tea, the end justifies the means. So I shouldn't have made such a fuss about the drawings."

"Soo you're saying it's okay for me to keep on selling them as long as it's about raising money for tea-related stuff? Do you really mean that?", you asked warily, searching his face for any signs of sarcasm, but finding none.

"Yes", he said, nodding solemnly.

"Yay! I knew a reasonable man such as yourself would come to your senses eventually!", you exclaimed happily. "This is going to make everything so much easier."

You took a sip of your tea, and your eyes widened. It was the best thing you ever tasted.

"This is absolutely delicious! Divine! Out of this world! Where did you get this?"

"South Maria."

A strange feeling crept up inside of you at his words, but you couldn't quite place it.

"Right, they do grow the best tea in the world." It made sense. Didn't it?

"Take me with you next time? Please?", you asked him, putting on your best pleading eyes and pouty lips. Levi didn't answer, his eyes on the desk in front of him.

"There is something I need to tell you."

A faint ringing pierced through the silence.

"You hear that?", you asked.

"Hear what, exactly?", he said, eyes narrowed.

The sound grew steadily louder, filling you with dread.

"Oh no", you whispered in terror as you recognized it. "Don't do this to me. Just a little bit longer, please…"

But the noise knew no mercy, ripping you from your dream with cruel inevitability. You groaned. It had been too good to be true, after all.

"Ugh. Shut up", you mumbled and dangled out a sleepy hand from the edge of the bed.

Patting down the surface of your nightstand to try and turn off the alarm, you knocked several things to the floor, until there was a sudden crashing noise. You instantly jolted awake, knowing exactly what had happened.

"Noo", you howled as you stared at the remains of your once fancy teapot in horror.

"What have I done?", you sobbed as you crouched down next to your bed, cradling the pieces in your arms and of course cutting yourself in the process.

"I should've never put you there. I'm so sorry…"

You stumbled out of your room like this, still in your jammies.

"I will get you the help you need. He'll know what to do", you whispered to the shards as you made your way through the halls and up the stairs, paying no heed to any startled scouts you passed.

His office door came into view, but you didn't stop, kicking it open without hesitation.

"I told you a thousand times to knock before y–" His angry words died in this throat when he saw you standing before him, crying, your shirt and hands all covered in blood.

"Help me", you said in a forlorn voice.

Levi was by your side in an instant.

"What happened? Who did this to you?", he demanded, trying to get a better look at your wounds.

"Careful, you're hurting it", you said in a warning tone, pulling your hands away.

"It?", he asked, confused.

"My teapot. One of my favorites", you said. They were all your favorites. It didn’t matter now. "I accidentally broke it. You have to help me." You looked at him with big, pitiful eyes.

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me", Levi said through his teeth, knowing full well that you were dead serious.

"Put it down on the table over there. I’ll take a look at it later."

"But–", you tried to protest.

"No buts. You’re bleeding, do you even know that?"

You looked down at your hands.

"Oh", you said. Of course you hadn't realized.

"Tch. You are such an airhead", Levi said, but there was no edge to it. He watched as you carefully placed the shards on the table.

"Come here", he said, dressing materials already in hand.

You padded over to him with small, rueful steps.

"Sit down." He gestured to the chair by his desk. "Give me your hands."

You obediently stretched them out towards him. He disinfected them, making you wince in pain.

"Should have been more careful. Idiot", he murmured, his voice soft.

"I know", you said miserably and looked up at him with eyes still puffy from the tears, your hair a sleepy mess on your head.

"Do you think it will be alright?"

He sighed in exasperation.

"I'll see what I can do. It won't be the same again, though."

"I know", you said, sniffling, as Levi began to wrap bandages around the cuts on your hands and arms. "Thank you."

His hands were warm on your skin, practiced fingers holding your hand softly in place, adjusting it this way or that way to get the perfect angle for the dressing. The light touch made you shiver, a pleasantly tingling sensation which ran from your head down your spine all the way to your toes. You relaxed into it, fighting to keep your eyes open as you felt yourself getting sleepy again.

When his hands were suddenly gone, you almost whined in protest.

"There, all done", he said. "Now get out. I have work to do."

You squinted up at him as he leaned against his desk with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face, his fingers tapping his arm in an irritated manner.

"Fine", you grumbled, reluctantly getting up from your comfortable seat. As you plodded to the door, you couldn't help but let out a big yawn. "Definitely a two pot type of morning…", you mumbled, then you were gone.

Levi sighed, already knowing his day would be wasted. He would be sitting here all day, cursing to himself, gluing the damn thing back together. All to see you smile again.

Soo this was the third part of The Tea Lovers Series! It was a bit on the shorter side but I hope you enjoyed it :) More will be coming soon!

Click here for Part 4

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou

[dontxevenxask]

Bad hair day

Context: So you (Satorus wife and basically the mom of Megumi and Tsumiki) were enjoying a nice day, but Megumi came to you almost crying from a Gojos mess up with his hair.

Pairing: fem!reader x Gojo Satoru

TW: idk like hair cutting, a bit of yelling and that's abou it?? Yeah

Word count: abt 900 or so (it's short ik😭😭)

Authors note: haven't written in a loooong time, I have had a few projects but never had thr energy to finish em. I made this at like midnight so that's why it isn't the best. Oh and first language isn't english so can be some typos there!

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You were relaxing in the kitchen, drinking some tea with a few biscuits while reading the new book you've just gotten from the library today.

It was rare to even have such a calm day with nothing special to do. You could just Be by yourself and enjoy the day.

As you thought that would be the case for the rest of the day, but you were about to Be proven very wrong by the universe once again.

You heard quick and pretty silent thumps coming down stairs with the person just yelling. It was Megumi who was on the verge of tears as he came up to you with you getting up from the chair quickly as he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs as he covered his face with them starting to cry now.

"Wha-? Megumi are you okay? What happened??" You asked worried as you got down on your knees so you could see his face.

"My..hair!" He said sniffling inbetween his words.

You took a look at his hair and, oh, my, god.. his hair was cut very badly and pretty short too. He had a pair of bangs too! Now who in the hell did that to him??

You were staring at his hair standing up just about to ask him who did that. But then you saw a tall figure leaning against the kitchens door frame with a look of both dissapointment and guilt.

"I told him to stay still.." He tried defending himself but it was no use really.

"God.." you let out in a sigh while rubbing your temples trying to calm down a bit. "Are you serious?? He just had his hair cut a few days ago!"

"Well he said he didn't really like the length of it?! And I decided to fix it up since you were finally relaxing for sometime" Gojo said now looking into your eyes but then looking away again.

Megumi was still crying from his awful haircut as you were arguing with Gojo for a bit as well about the situation, everything was so loud and it made you just more irritated.

"Okay okay! Megumi, honey? How about I fix your hair, yeah?" You leaned down to look at him.

He then started to calm down but still had some tears on his cheecks and a runny nose as he nodded as an answear. So you picked him up with his arms around your neck gently and his legs around your back.

Gojo stared at you both as you walked past him with Megumi in your arms. Though you didn't notice the death stare that Megumi gave to Gojo before you walked upstairs to go to the bathroom to fix it all up.

"Okay, now sit here and I'll try my best to fix it" for sure yours couldn't be as bad as this monstosity on his head

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After about an hour of hard work with scissors snapping and hair falling down, you got his hair to look actually pretty good!

"So, how's that?" You asked fixing it up a bit with your fingers.

"..Amazing!" Megumi said cracking a smile as he turned around to hug you as you put your hand on top oh his head stroking his soft hair.

You then opened the door with Satoru and Tsumiki both outside waiting to see the results. Tsumiki was also a bit amazed and went to look at it closer as Gojo just looked at you smiling.

You saw him smiling at you and you smiled as well "Hey why won't you two go watch some TV?" You said to the kids as they then left down stairs to go and do just what you said.

"So.. I'm sorry for cutting his hair without asking you first.." he admitted looking down at the floor.

"Thanks but you probably should apologise to Megumi instead of me?" You said smiling a bit raising an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, mhm, sure"

"Gojo??"

"Okay I will!" He finally said.

"Good, and please never! Cut anyones hair again, expecially yours! I don't want to date a bald man okay?" You said smiling as you left a quick and soft kiss on his lips before going down to hear his apology to Megumi.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Jonathan Pine

Summary: Jonathan Pine is very nice to work for but you've been fooled before.

Warnings: Age discrimination, Bullying.

A/N: Reader is 40+ years old and female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Jonathan stuck around in CEO Levinson's office after Lloyd stomped off in a fit. He was always one to wait until being properly dismissed.

Ari shakes his head, "alright, how about we go visit your department?"

"Of course, Mr. Levinson," Pine smiles.

He sends you a quick text to inform you that they're on their way. He used to be nervous about these sorts of things. Previous assistants have either failed to read his messages or were too distracted to prepare for such a visit. But with you, he has every confidence that you'll have coffee, tea and the preferred snacks of Mr. Levinson and his assistant, Mr. Smith.

Sure enough, as they entered the IT area, you were ready.

"Here is your Moroccan spiced coffee with a side of ma'amoul, Mr. Levinson," you smile. "And your Earl Grey, plain, with some rich tea biscuits, Mr. Smith. They might not be as good compared to what you get overseas but I have every confidence in the abilities of our local establishments."

Ari takes a sip and moans. "You place your faith in the right people." He gives you a wink before heading into Jonathan's office with him, Raymond staying out with you.

"Are you not joining them, Mr. Smith?"

"I have been asked to stay outside for this particular meeting," he tells you. "He alternates sipping his tea and eating one of the biscuits. "I must say, you do have quite the taste. You are correct that nothing compares to the comfort of home however these are clearly made by someone who knows what they are doing."

"Thank you, Mr. Smith," you smile. "Would you like to have a seat, then? I'm not sure how long this meeting will actually go."

"Please, call me Raymond. And thank you for the offer." Raymond sits across from you at your desk. "I do hope you will sit as well."

"Of course, Mr.--Raymond. Of course, Raymond."

After you sit, Raymond pulls himself closer to you. "I have been asked to stay outside for this meeting so that I may speak with you alone."

"Is...is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. In fact, it is possibly something very good," Raymond is quick to reassure. "I have found myself, unfortunately, falling a bit short in aiding Mr. Levinson with both his work and home matters. As I travel with him, his manor and its care have slowly become...lacking," Raymond sighs, clearly disappointed with himself. "With his permission, I have begun looking at potential housekeepers. You were one of the first people that came to mind for the position."

You gasp at this information. "I...may I ask why?"

"Simply put, your competency. Like myself, you are very good at your job. Mr. Pine has the jealousy of all of the other managers in this company." Heat rushes to your face as you consider this. "I have also taken the liberty of looking into your previous employers," he continues. "While their reasoning for firing you may have been technically legal, the circumstances are dubious. What was exceptionally clear, however, was the drop in quality and business soon after you left. Clearly you were carrying those previous employers."

"Would...would you be willing to email me the, the details of the job?" you ask. "I'd like to know what I'd be getting myself into."

"Of course," Raymond nods. "I will have it for you by the end of the day, along with the salary and benefits information."

"Thank you, Raymond."

"I have to tell you, Jonathan, you're assistant is something else." Levinson takes another sip of the delightful spiced coffee.

"Yes, she has been an exceptional boon to my work," Jonathan nods.

"Has she ever given you any problems?"

"She has always ever been professional."

"Just professional?"

Jonathan furrows his brows, "yes."

"So the two of you have no personal relationship?"

"Not as such," Jonathan confesses. "May I ask what this is about?"

Ari rubs the back of his head. It's tactic he's used before to make himself seem apologetic but Jonathan knows better. "Well, I'm need of another assistant. Raymond is overworked and some things are falling through the cracks. Your girl there is one of my top considerations. If there was something between the two of you, I would immediately drop her from the list, I'm not going to break a relationship. But if it's only professional, I'll keep her in the consideration until she says she's not interested."

Jonathan's blood freezes. It would be quite the move up for you but he knows your absence would hurt him more than just professionally. "Who am I to stand in her way?" is the most diplomatic response he can make.

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

@lokislady82

[unknowntoyou2205]

Diamonds sister pt 2

Y/n groaned as she heard her bedroom door open. After last nights events y/n had spent half the night tossing and turning, unable to get a certain blonde gentleman out of her head. Her mum and sister had thrown questions at her on the ride home and the excitement between them hadn’t gone unnoticed. The excitement the young girl herself felt was also apparent, but y/n refused to show it in fear that it may be thrown back at her.

“Good morning Miss, are you ready to get ready for the day?” Her handmaid smiled.

“Yes I am. Is everyone ready for our visitors today?”

“Yes the chef has prepared sweet treats and tea for this afternoon. They shall not be disappointed.”

“Good.” Y/n smiled, optimistic about today’s agenda.

Y/n opted for y/f/c dress with detail on the shoulder before heading down the stairs to the drawing room where her mother and sister were already sitting, working on their embroidery. Y/n never cared for embroidery, so instead opted to take out her drawing pad, deciding to draw the garden view as she waited for todays visitors. It wasn’t long before the door opened, and Anthony and Benedict arrived in the room.

“Your up early.” Violet stated to her sons with slight dismay.

“Are we the first ones here, how lovely.” Anthony stated, grabbing a biscuit before sitting beside Daphne.

“Perhaps you should make use of your time elsewhere.” Their mother stated.

“I believe y/n would like me to stay, right y/n.” Benedict stated, thinking their usual antics would start.

Y/n went to reply when the door opened once again, and y/ns handmaid opened the door. Violet stood up in anticipation when a figure came close behind her.

Violet watched in awe as her daughter allowed the prince to guide her to a seat away from prying ears. Daphne couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face, despite wanting to advance on the prince herself. Y/n only turned back briefly to smile at them before turning her attention to the prince as he accepted the lemonade from the handmaid and offered one to her. She nodded her head in thanks before taking a delicate sip.

“A visitor for Miss Bridgerton.” The woman spoke out and the figure stepped into the room.

“Price Fredrich, good afternoon.” Violet nodded, indicating for her children to stand up to greet him.

“Your highness.” Daphne stated as she curtsied and bowed her head.

“Good afternoon Lady Bridgerton, I have come to call on one of your daughters.”

“And which one may that be.” Anthony called from his position.

“Miss y/n.” The royal stated, looking at the second oldest daughter of the family.

“I believe you should like to go Benedict.” Y/n muttered to her brother.

“I believe I should most certainly like to stay,” Benedict replied quickly, not taking his eyes off the prince in front of them.

“Now Benedict.” Y/n stated to him before stepping towards the prince with her mother.

“Can I offer you some light refreshment?” Violet asked their visitor as Benedict left the room.

“I would love some. Perhaps some lemonade, and for miss Bridgerton?” Fredrich looked at y/n, expecting an answer.

“The same please.” Y/n spoke with a smile, before accepting the princes outstretched hand.

The two sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company under the watchful gaze of her family. A smile remained on each of their faces before the door opened once again and miss came through.

“So, what do you like to do, tell me more about you?” Fredrich smiled, leaning closer to the girl in front of him to listen.

“Well, I like to draw, I find you can capture anything with a pencil and page. I suppose that’s not a typical hobby of a woman but I find it so refreshing that I could just draw for hours, often with my dear brother Benedict.” Y/n stated, smiling fondly.

“I admire that. Would you be close with your siblings?” Frendrich asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yes I like to think that we are. I enjoy being with my youngest two, Hyacinth and Gregory, there so sweet. Do you have any siblings yourself?” Y/n asked, intrigued to learn more about her suitor.

“Unfortunately I am an only child, but I hope to have my own family someday, possibly many. Do you want children some day?” The blonde man asked the woman in front of him, not missing how her smile disappeared to sadness.

“I would love to have my own but the thoughts of having them terrify me after what my dear Mama went through with Hyacinth.” Y/n spoke sadly, remembering the screams of her mother and how she family nearly became orphans.

“I am sorry I asked.” Prince Frendrich stated, placing a hand on y/n’s in comfort.

“It’s ok. Maybe with the right guy I will have my dream, and my fear may be placed at ease.” Y/n stated, her mouth twitching with a smile.

“Perhaps, I may be that guy.” The prince dared to say, moving a hand under y/n’s chin to move her head up.

“Perhaps.” Y/n spoke, smiling at the thought.

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“Another visitor, for Miss Bridgerton.” This time she looked at Daphne and y/n sighed, knowing the time with the prince had come to an end.

“Perhaps we shall pomegrade tomorrow.” Prince Fredrich offered, wanting to spend more time with the Bridgerton in front of her.

“I would like that.” Y/n announced, nodding her head in agreement.

“Until tomorrow.” Prince Fredrich took y/n’s hand and brought it up, kissing it delicately.

“Until tomorrow.” y/n smiled shyly, watching as the prince moved to say his goodbyes to her mother and brother.

The following days followed with y/n and Fredrich spending many hours together. Benedict had taken it upon himself  to escort his sister to these meetings, despite his sisters disagreement, and the prince was starting to grow on him. Seeing how his sister smiled around thig guy made Benedict realize that maybe his sister meeting with this guy wasn’t a bad idea. The relationship between brother and sister were remarkable, but Benedict would be willing to leave the prince be if it made y/n happy. And it would appear that he made y/n very happy.

Y/n had found herself falling for the royal she had been spending so much time with these past few weeks. Each ball lead to a new dance, and each day lead to a new Pomerado around, getting to know each other more and more. The more time spent with the prince, the more y/n thought that maybe he could be the one. Maybe he was the one she would marry and make her feel safe and secure with herself, much like her father had been for her mother. And the prince, well, he was seeing the Bridgerton girl in a new light.

Today was no different. Y/n had arrived back from a boat ride with the prince ,and was now in a carriage towards the ball of the night, one that was being held by the her sister. Since Daphnes marriage things had been a spiral of emotions for the Bridgerton family, yet the giddiness that y/n felt for tonight was something that did not go unnoticed. Violet watched her daughter with happiness as she glowed. With Daphne now engaged to the duke, Violet hoped that maybe there would be another love story for the Bridgerton family.

The carriage came to a stop and y/n allowed her mother to get out before she herself stood up and exited the carriage. Looking at the entrance in awe, she couldn’t help but smile as she seen the familiar blonde hair standing with the Queen at the back of the hall. Smiles were exchanged as the prince caught sight of the Bridgerton clan walking into the ball, and took no time to start making her way down to them. Ignoring the mothers and daughters who swarmed him, he made his way over to y/n and nodded his head in greeting as the mother daughter duo turned to face him.

Y/n smiled at the Prince as they prepared to dance. Allowing the royal to lead her around the floor, y/n couldn’t help the slight giggle that came out of her mouth. Her giggle made the prince in turn smile as he twirled his dance partner around.

“Good evening ladies, I hope you are well.” He spoke to the two.

“Good evening your highness. We are very well.” Violet spoke for the two of them as they curtsied to him.

“Would it be too much to ask for a dance with your lovely daughter.” He asked, offering his hand out out to y/n.

“Please enjoy.” Violet confirmed, watching with pride as the prince kissed her daughters hand before leading her to the floor.

“Perhaps there may be another Bridgerton wedding in the horising.” Simon spoke beside his mother in law.

“One can only hope.” Violet stated, hoping the best would come for her daughter.

The prince stepped away from her and fiddled with his pocket before bringing out a small velvet box. Y/n watched in shock as the attention of others became apparent. Violet grabbed bEnedicts arm as she watched with hope.

“I hope you are enjoying your night.” Prince Fredrich stated as they danced around the room. Her back to his chest.

“Very much.” Y/n nodded.

“Y/n, I hope I am not overstepping when I say but, I enjoy our time together.”

“I enjoy our time together too.” Y/n smiled.

“And I hope you wouldn’t be opposed to spending more time together.” The prince asked, twirling her around once more.

“I was hoping we would.” Y/n smiled, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Perhaps you would do me the honour of spending the rest of our time on this earth together.” The prince asked, causing y/n to look at him in shock.

“Your highness, what are you saying.” Y/n asked, turning to him as the music stopped.

Unable to hold her excitement, Violet rushed towards her daughter and pulled her into a hug.

“Y/n Bridgerton, would you do me the honour of becoming my princess, my wife.” Fredrich asked, opening the box to show a ring held delicately with a small coushin.

“I would love to.” Y/n spoke happily, allowing him to pull her in a hug.

----------------------------------------------------

“You are to be married dearest.” Violet stated, and y/n smiled excitedly.

“I got it mama, I got my dream.”

“We better watch out with royalty in our house.” Benedict teased causing y/n to chock in tears.

The wedding was everything y/n could of ever dreamed off. Prince Fredrich wanted the day to be everything his bride had ever imagined, and went above and beyond to make sure her dreams became a reality. It was fit for a princess, which was what Miss y/n Bridgerton would now be called. Violet was beaming for joy as she watched her second daughter walk down the aisle with her second oldest. Benedict couldn’t help the smile on his face as he walked his sister to her new family, having cried after y/n had asked him to step in what should have been their fathers job. Daphne held her husbands arm in delight watching her twin get married. The Queen herself couldn’t help but show a slight smile, even if only for a brief second.

The night itself was magical and fit for royalty. Y/n danced with her husband under the night stars, outside in the Queens garden. United as one, y/n couldn’t wait to live her newfound life. Princess y/n of Prussia, dawning a ring that belonged to her majesty the Queen on her finger, vowed to spend entirely with her new love, the prince of Prussia.

[rinamars]

(under the cut: 2k of grinding, rough sexytimes, the obvious power imbalance that comes with fucking your superior, a slight hint of exhibitionism, an even slighter hint of breeding kink because it's me, what did you expect. basically my fantasy of letting this man use me)

You need to keep quiet when you slip into the Commander’s office late at night. You need to keep quiet, because everyone in the Scouts knows that their Commander is a massive workaholic; they know they’ll be able to find him there, sitting on his chair, surrounded by piles of that damn paperwork.

Sometimes, the younger recruits—bless their soul—knock on his door to bring him tea or something to eat, anything that might make his all-nighters a bit more bearable.

Little do they know that he already has you for that.

It started innocently enough. It started, in fact, with you bringing him tea, just like those other recruits did.

At first, all you did was simply place the small tray on his desk, salute him with trembling hands, and leave, content with just that small nod of gratitude you received in return, because at least he’d noticed you.

Then, you overheard Section Commander Hange mention that the Commander had a sweet tooth, therefore you made sure to always include a crumpet, or a biscuit, or even simply an extra sugar cube; that’s when his nod of gratitude turned into a genuine smile, and you had to be quick to turn around after all, so that he would not see the red blossoming on your cheeks.

When he suggested you bring a second teacup, you felt like you were walking on clouds. Soon enough, you went from lingering in his office long enough to empty your cup to spending hours just chatting about nothing and everything. Hours that made you ache for him even more, as you returned to your bunk afterwards and clamped a hand over your mouth as the other slid underneath your already soaked panties, aided by the memory of his blue eyes, his plump lips smiling at you, his deep voice, massive hands—

Long story shorts, you were down bad.

You always wondered what went through his head as you spent your nights like that, talking and laughing together like old friends. You wondered if he was just as desperate as you, if the way he looked at you sometimes meant that he touched himself every night to thoughts of you, that he too had to will himself not to scream your name as he came in his hand.

You wondered—until one of those nights you did not have to wonder anymore.

The teacups were already empty. Silence engulfed the headquarters; everyone seemed to be asleep but the two of you. He’d been observing you and smiling to himself more than usual, and all that extra attention had gotten so overwhelming that you had to stand up and walk to the open window, hoping that the fresh night air would erase the desperate blush from your heated cheeks.

You gripped the windowsill and took deep breaths, and then, just as you were about to turn around, ready to act like nothing was wrong, you felt his presence behind you.

“No need to be shy,” he said with that low, sexy voice of his. “Let me see you. You look so lovely when you blush for me.”

“Sir—”

You didn’t mean to whimper, but you were far too desperate to act innocent, anyway.

He settled behind you, his hands firmly holding onto the windowsill on either side of you—his hips pressing into your ass. Far too intensely for it to be an accident.

The sound you let out this time was far louder.

“So I was right,” he spoke into your ear, his lips ghosting over the earlobe. “This is what you have in mind, when you come into my office after hours.”

Erwin’s hips ground into you more intentionally than before, and his erection was unmistakable. You let out a needy moan, instinctively grinding back against him.

“And here I was, thinking you were so kindly offering me tea… when all this time, what you were offering—” another grind, another embarrassing moan— “was yourself.”

The rest of that first night is a blur. You remember his hard cock humping you from behind, almost making you soil your underwear right then and there; you remember him pushing you down until you were on your knees, the sound of him unbuckling and unbuttoning his pants, the way your throat suddenly felt dry at the realization that fuck, he’s big. You remember him guiding your head while you blew him and the shameful wet noises your mouth made, you remember how generous he was with his praise—yes, just like that, good girl, so eager to have a taste—and you remember the warmth of his seed as it filled your mouth.

It was a silent pact, but you became his little stress relief, a duty which you fulfilled thoroughly every single night.

When you returned the following night, the tea tray was just a silly prop; no one was thirsty for tea anyway. The water cooled in the teapot as you bounced on his lap, the sound of skin slapping on wet skin almost as loud as your whimpers.

Sometimes you even forgot to actually fill the teapot, such was your eagerness to offer your body to him, but at least you were smart enough to keep the act of pretending you were visiting him so late at night for something as innocent as tea, just in case anyone ran into you while you were on your way.

It’s like you were made to serve him. You felt naturally inclined to obey his every order, behind closed doors just like on the field. Get into formation. Switch to ODM gear. Spread your legs. Making sure expeditions went smoothly and he had a hole to fuck every night was simply what any good soldier would do for their Commander; and so, you obeyed.

“Maybe this is your purpose after all,” he murmurs, tapping his cock against your awaiting tongue. “Kneeling for me, eager to please.” You try to fully wrap your lips around him, and he chuckles, pushing your head back with one hand. “Oh, you’re impatient, aren’t you? Can’t wait to have your mouth full, hmm?”

After some teasing, he finally feeds you his cock, and you moan in relief at the now familiar taste. He’s so large he stretches your mouth to full capacity, but it’s not like you’ll ever let that stop you.

He groans—your favourite sound. “Deeper, just like that… oh, yes, you were made for this, darling, you were made to take my cock…”

The praise makes you moan around him, and he grips your hair tighter, keeping you still as he fucks your mouth. You focus on the wet sounds that fill the room to distract yourself from the soreness of your throat. One trembling hand fondles his balls, and they feel heavy underneath your touch.

“Yes, fuck,” he lets out, and oh, hearing him curse like that does things to you. “That’s my good girl.”

Your jaw hurts, your throat burns, and tears are streaming down your cheeks from the exertion, but his praise makes you moan around his cock and bob your head faster. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, and he’s barely halfway in.

“Oh,” he grunts, and your mouth is suddenly empty. “Stand up,” he orders, “I have to be inside you.”

He’s quick to position you with your back against his desk and lift your skirt up. After your first few escapades, you started showing up to his office in your civilian clothes, not only because you feel more alluring in your long skirts and soft blouses, but also because lifting up a skirt is so much quicker than having to detangle your legs from your uniform trousers. As the Commander works your panties down your legs, you think maybe next time you should forego those as well, make it even easier for him.

You let out another desperate moan as he runs the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, and you’re so wet the motion produces a clicking, squelching sound that drives you wild, drives him wild, too.

“A cock in your mouth is all it takes for you to get this soaked, hmm?” he whispers, his eyes twinkling in the dim lighting of the room—the candles are beginning to turn into embers. “Does it turn you on, offering me your body like this?” He slides the tip in before moving back again despite your protests. “Letting me use you like this?”

“Yes,” you finally manage to utter. “Yes, Commander.”

“My perfect little soldier,” he praises you again before finally breaching you.

If heaven really exists, you reach it every time he sinks balls deep inside you.

He doesn’t dawdle, it’s fast and rough from the very start. His balls slapping against your ass with each thrust are loud, just like you are.

“Oh—Commander! Mmh—”

“Shh, darling,” he whispers in your ear as he keeps the ruthless pace. “You don’t want people to hear, do you?”

“Ahhh—”

“You perfect, lovely thing.” He’s fondling your breasts. “You insatiable little slut.”

Yes, yes, yes. That’s what you were meant to be, that’s what the Universe made you join the Scouts for. You were made to keep his cock warm, his balls empty as his mind relaxed, and you were eternally grateful for that role. He fucks you, and you squeeze your pelvic muscles, making sure you’re nice and tight for him, fulfilling your duty.

“So tight, so fucking tight,” he growls through gritted teeth, gripping your hips so tight you’re already savouring the inevitable marks. “Taking me so deep. Here,” he says, grabbing one of your trembling hands and pressing it against your tummy, and—oh. He was bulging you with every thrust. “Feel how deep I am inside you, darling?”

“S’deep,” you echo, too dumbed out to form coherent sentences.

“Yes, baby,” he chuckles, “so deep.”

"I—ahh—mmm—"

“What is it, darling?” he mocks you. “Cat got your tongue? I’m fucking you so good you forgot how to speak, huh?”

“Please—”

“Ah, there she is. Please what, hmm?”

“Oh, more, please—”

“What a good girl, asking so nicely.”

His pace gets impossibly faster. Sweat and various bodily fluids make your bodies stick together, and it would disgust you if it didn’t feel so damn good.

His hips suddenly still as warmth fills you up, and you simply cannot hold back anymore.

You’re pretty sure you passed out for a few seconds, but when you open your eyes again, he’s rocking back and forth into you again. Overstimulated, you whine.

“One more,” he commands. “You can take one more, hmm? Like a good girl. Keep your legs nice and spread—yes, like that—”

He’s panting above you, his movements are getting erratic, but he seems determined to chase that high once more.

“One more,” he repeats frantically as his seed floods your insides once more. “Oh, yes…”

Your skirt is crumpled and stained with sweat and both of your releases, a few buttons are missing from your blouse, and your panties are nowhere to be found.

As for the Commander, well, he never looks anything but his best, not even after such strenuous activity; only the way the pomade had worn off from the pearls of sweat in his hair seems to ruin that perfect image.

He grabs your chin and forces you to look into his eyes. There’s sudden clarity in them now: nothing like a good orgasm to sharpen the mind. He kisses you hard, and you’re too exhausted to do anything but let him lead.

“What do we say?” he whispers afterwards, lips still brushing yours.

“Thank you, Commander,” you let out, still catching your breath. “Thank you.”

“Good girl.” You whimper as two of his fingers plug you up, preventing his seed from spilling out. “Be careful, now, pet. Do not waste a drop.”

[realmrszurzolo]

ron invites you to the burrow 𝜗𝜚

a/n: this is my first time actually writing/posting one of these so pls bare with me 😭 i like to think i’m not a bad writer but pls lmk if there are any grammar or punctuation errors 🤗😚 also i’m not british so there might be some mistakes or hiccups in the way they talk! again, i apologize 😓

warnings (??) — bf!ron, hufflepuff!reader, fem!reader, pure fluff ♥︎

you and ron had been together for a few months now, and everything was as perfect as could be. you went to his quidditch games, you both bonded over your love for food, and he gave the best hugs imaginable.

he had been unsure if it was a good idea to take you to meet molly and the rest of his family, especially after the way she had reacted to fleur. but after much back and forth and asking fred, george, and ginny, he decided on it.

“just….beware. they can get crazy sometimes,” he cautioned, his chest rising in an oddly deep breath before raising his fist to knock.

the snow had really piled up, you thought, as your scarf barely helped your face warm. your mittens intertwined as best they could with ron’s, his hat matching the cloth on your hands.

“don’t worry, ron, im sure i’ll be alright,” you smiled, squeezing his hand as you stared at the closed door waiting to open.

the door quickly flung open, revealing a beaming molly behind it. she immediately rushed over to hug ron tightly, mumbling a bunch of greetings. ron glanced at you from his mom’s hug, eyes wide in a ‘help.’

you giggled, running your thumb up his hand reassuringly.

molly pulled away, fixing up his now messy orange locks before looking to his left. molly’s jaw dropped, mirroring the way she pounced on ron, but somehow more aggressive to you.

“oh, you must be y/n,” she cooed, rocking you left and right as she squeezed the living daylights out of you.

“well, come on in, then!” she motioned for you two to follow her inside, you and ron side eyeing each other.

“sorry,” he whispered, swallowing thickly before following his mum inside the warm home.

“are you kidding? i love her already.”

once molly had rushed you two inside, arthur greeted you with a firm handshake and a smile. “my darling,” molly began, pouring you each a warm cup of tea. “you are twice as beautiful as ron makes you out to be,”

you smiled, giggling as you glanced at your boyfriend. his face reddened immediately.

“does ron talk about me a lot?” you ask curiously, lifting the mug to your lips. the warm steam cooled your pink nose. the fire crackled, fred and george conversing as they heated their sock-enclothed feet.

“oh, you have no idea,” molly began, ron buried his face in his palms. arthur chuckled, taking a long sip of tea. “but enough about him. tell me about yourself, dear,” she invited, motioning for ron’s dad to get out the biscuits.

“well, i’m a hufflepuff, i’m a prefect, head girl, and i have outstandings in all of my classes,” you told her, feeling a bit tense at the mention of your house. you knew how much the weasleys valued being a gryffindor, and the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint them.

molly and arthur exchanged glances, and you swore you could’ve screamed and ran away right that moment. you tapped on your mug, looking at ron before down at your lap.

“ronald, you break this girl’s heart and you’re out of the house,” molly raised her pointer finger at him, causing a fit of comfortable laughter to fill the silence of the room.

“she really is an angel, mum. she tutors 1st years,”he added, making you smile shyly as you hid your face in the mug.

molly gasped, holding her hand over her heart. “well, my dear, i am beyond delighted that you are taking care of my ronald. just let me know if he becomes a handful. i’ll be more than happy to send a howler his way,” she warned, shooting ron a stern glance.

just as quickly as your worries came, they disappeared. molly loved you, arthur loved you, and you had not a doubt in your mind that ron did, too.

——————————————————————————

a/n pt 2: this was so fun to make!! i’m on a 5 day break so i’ll be writing some stuff, pls pls pls pls PLEASEEE lmk if you want to see anything or have any questions at all!! 😚😚

[wolken-himmel]

In which Sam steals (Y/n) away after Crewel and Crowley get into fight on who gets to spend time with the prefect.

So Sam decides to take matters into his own hands.

Request by anon.

"I will take (Y/n) to the amusement park!"

"And why is that?"

"I already planned everything and even bought the tickets. And they weren't cheap! This is just another example of my generosity!"

"But I wanted to take the pup to a fashion show!"

Your two professors have been yelling at each other for the past hour already. You had tried your best to remain patient, but that patience was now slowly running thin — especially since no solution seemed to be in sight.

"Can you... please stop fighting?" you asked weakly.

Grim, whose ears were much more sensitive than yours, let out an aggressive growl. His attempt of blocking out their voices with his paws seemed futile when he removed them from his ears. "Great, they're so busy fighting that they can't hear you..." he grumbled and crossed his arms in disappointment. "And I was so looking forward to doinf something special today!"

"Me too..." A drawn-out sigh escaped your lips when two adults began circling each other, as if this was a brawl. The sight prompted you to pinch yourself, just to make sure that you were still grounded in reality. "But we won't get anywhere at this pace," you concluded sadly after your pinch-test.

"Psh... over here," a scrawny voice whispered.

Your head snapped into the voice's direction — it came from near the bushes and trees that decorated the front of Sam's store. Carefully, you nudged Grim's side and pointed to the flat and black creature on the ground. "Did that... shadow over there just talk?" you asked in confusion.

"Nah, must have been the wind." Grim rolled his eyes in frustration before returning his attention to the bickering professors.

"Over here. Over here..." It was that voice again.

This time, curiosity got the better of you. Your hand grabbed the cat by his arm and dragged him over to the bushes. "I really think the shadow wants something from us, Grim..." you muttered under your breath while narrowing your eyes at the mysterious black patch.

"Shadows don't talk..." Grim clicked his tongue. "You stupid henchhuman."

When your feet came to a halt in front of the shrubbery, you let your gaze wander in search for whoever had called out to you.

You almost screamed when Sam jumped out of the bush next to you. "What's up, little imps," he asked cheerfully.

With your hand resting on your rapidly rising and falling chest, you gazed at him in utter shock. Yet, after a few seconds and with the support of your equally as surprised cat friend, you managed to calm down again. A sheepish smile appeared on your lips as you asked, "Oh, Sam... So that shadow was your trick?" You eyed him curiously.

"You got it! I got curious about all the yelling in front of my store and went to check it out." A few leaves and branches clung to his clothes, which he now removed with ease. Yet, when he raised his gaze and found your eyes sunken with sadness, he let out a concerned gasp. "Are you alright, little imp?"

You lowered your gaze. "Crowley and Crewel are just fighting again..."

His magenta eyes softened in pity after he had quickly assessed the situation — from where you stood, the two professors could still be heard arguing loud and clear. The store owner shook his head in disbelief. "Poor you..." His one hand resting on your shoulder, the other gestured to the small building next to you. "You know what? Why don't you come into the store. I'll make you a nice cup of tea."

You tried your best at a smile, although it turned out a little bit wonky around the edges. "Thanks, Sam..."

"I even have some tuna-flavoured biscuits for you, kitty," the store owner announced, chuckling.

At that, Grim leapt into the air gleefully. "You're the best, Sam!"

Without wasting another second — and without Crowley and Crewel noticing your absence — Sam led you inside his store. The door creaked comfortingly under his touch and barely produced any sound when it fell it into the hinges behind you. A certain warmth came wafting your way, somehow vanquishing the chill from your bones. Without the shouting from the professors, you felt much more at ease by now.

And there were all sorts of interesting things to distract you.

"Try not to touch any of the glowing stuff. Might be dangerous," Sam warned when he found you staring at a crystal ball. "Oh and also— don't put anything in your mouth. Yes, Grim... I'm looking at you."

The cat in question gasped, offended. "Me? I would never!"

Sam and you laughed at the pout on the cat's face. Quicker than you had realised, the three of you arrived in the backroom to the store, accessible through the door behind the cash register. You could barely see a thing since candles were the only source of light. But, the small amount of light allowed you to notice strange forms and masses of complete blackness seated at the table. All of them possessed a pair of glowing eyes.

These looked just like the shadow that had lured you over to Sam a few minutes earlier.

"Here, take a seat," the store owner announced and gently nudged you to the free chairs. "Everyone, these are (Y/n) and Grim."

Your cat friend looked hesitant when one of the shadows began grinning at him. "That one has sharp teeth, (Y/n)..." he muttered and pressed himself into your side.

Sam began laughing upon noticing his fear. "Don't worry, Grim. None of them bite," he trailed off innocently. "They might nibble a little bit, though."

"That's not funny!"

Despite the protests, Grim and you soon found yourselves seated at the table, sandwiched in-between his friends from the shadow realm, as Sam had explained. In front of you, all sorts of biscuits and tea cups decorated the table — but you found yourself too intimidated by the shadows to help yourself to some of the food.

A shadow next to you seemed to have sensed your hesitancy. "May I offer you some beignets?" she asked you and held the plate with the pastries out to you.

"Oh, thank you..." You flashed her a nervous smile and quickly snatched one of the puffy treats for yourself.

"Would you like some tea?" another shadow chimed in and picked up the kettle.

"Yes please," you said, slowly but surely easing up by now.

The other shadows watched you in amusements, none of them seeming to hold any ill intentions. The shadow to your left seemed especially fond of you. "Oh my! Such a well-behaved human!" she chimed and let out a few squeals. "And so pretty, too. You look so... lively."

The joke sent you drowning in laughter.

"That wasn't even all that funny." Grim watched you sceptically as you laughed your soul out.

"Your cat's humour is dead~" another shadow exclaimed.

That remark caused your laughter to increase tenfold. Luckily, you had managed to set down your tea cup just in time before the laughter had overwhelmed you — lest you spilled any boiling tea on yourself.

Sam eyed you in satisfaction. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, impling. That's some interesting humour you have going on for yourself," he mumbled proudly. A few of his shadow friends even extended their arms to give him a high-five.

"Thanks for cheering me up, Sam," you said through your wheezing. "Though I do wonder what Crowley and Crewel are doing right now..."

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Bonus:

"I hate roller coasters and you, Crowley... So why am I here right now?"

The wind whipped past the two grown men as they sat in the middle wagon, surrounded by small children to their front and back. Whenever they rolled through a looping, Crowley began cheering and screaming with joy — perhaps a little twinge of fear, too. Crewel, on the other hand, sat next next him with an unaffected visage and crossed arms.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Crowley yelled over to his colleague. "Besides, I couldn't let those two tickets go to waste! I already paid for the full price for them, and there is a rule that says no refunds..."

Crewel exhaled in dread when he saw another looping approaching. "Where did I go wrong in life..."