#maid boy Silly to start off the year RIGHT

[kingsillysmilez]

What can I do for you today?

[darknight3904]

See You in the Morning, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀx ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ. ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴜᴘ. ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴇxʏ ᴡᴀʏ, ꜱᴀᴅʟʏ.

The first time you met him you were 12. It was only your fourth day at the Capitol's Academy and you wished you could go home and bury yourself in your bed and never return. You had yet to meet anyone interested in being friends with you, the homeschooled freak who started oh so late compared to her peers. Sure, you had met Arachne and Festus at big lavish parties your parents threw but that didn't mean they liked you.

And then, on your fourth day of school, everything changes. Big blue eyes are fixated on the overly large sandwich and fruit bowl that had been in your lunch bag. A soft gurgle of a hungry stomach fills your ears and you turn to see a boy with the prettiest blonde curls atop his head staring at you.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." You ask, picking up a strawberry and holding it out to him.

He hesitates for a moment but eventually reaches out and takes a small bite.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

"I already ate it." He said

Something inside you said he was lying and so you offered the rest of the fruit to him. Your sandwich would be enough for today, after all, no one should go hungry if another had something else to give.

You chat with the boy with blue eyes and pretty blonde curls. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he lives with his Grandma'am and his cousin. You smile at him as he eats the fruit, savoring the taste of the grapes that were mixed in. As you sit beside your new friend, you smile to yourself and hope he'll be your friend tomorrow too.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Coriolanus knows how bad it sounds. He knows you're angry when you go to step around him and he blocks your path. Your engagement ring feels like a brick as it sits in his shirt pocket.

"Coryo. Move. I'm going home." You say, determined to get away from him.

Where do you think you're running off to? You have no place in society besides your spot next to him.

"You can't. You have to stay here. With me." He insists, hoping his softer tone will change your silly little mind.

"Please, Coriolanus. Just let me go home for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow. I promise." You whisper.

He hates that. Coriolanus. Why are you calling him that? He's always been Coryo to you why are you changing it now? The way his full name lingers in the air makes his blood boil.

Rage is something that's hard to control. Coriolanus has seen it first hand when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol all those years ago. He saw it Dr. Gaul when Lucy Gray survived her snakes thanks to him. He sees it now, in you as you give him a hard shove to his shoulders and begin moving toward the door.

Rage. That's why he does it. It's something he and so many others can't control. Rage. What a funny concept it is, how it causes someone to think so irrationally.

Truly though, you are to blame for it all. If only you had just talked to him rationally. taking off your ring and throwing a fit, demanding to go home like you're some petulant child who needs a nap.

Perhaps this will change your attitude, after all, you couldn't just run off, he needed you.

There's an ache in the back of your skull when you finally open your eyes. A soft blanket is covering you and the soft scent of apples and cinnamon is wafting through the air.

"This is your favorite, right?"

A voice that used to bring a smile to your face now sends a jolt of fear down your spine as you quickly sit up.

Coriolanus is sitting in a plush-looking chair, with your favorite candle burning on a little side table next to him.

What the hell had he done to you?

"You sat up too quickly. There's some painkillers on the nightstand if you want them." He says

His voice is so calm as you gradually take in your new surroundings.

"Where am I?" You croak, your voice sounds terrible.

"You're still in our mansion. This is the basement. Part of it anyway. Over the past two weeks, I got them to transform a section of it into a room perfect for you." He says, closing the book in his lap.

Weeks? How long had it been since that dinner when you tried to leave? What the hell had even happened? The last thing you clearly remember was shoving Coriolanus and beginning to walk away. Had he hit you with something? But then how did he keep you down for two weeks so he could bring you here?

"You're wondering what happened. I'm not proud of it but I hit you with a serving tray before you could leave."

Your mind briefly conjures up the silver trays that the food you often enjoyed was served on.

"I had a doctor give you injections to keep you asleep until this room was ready. The headache you feel is the hangover from the drugs, not a concussion. I made sure he gave you an exam and he's cleared you from any injuries."

Corionus' explanation is making your brain ache. What the fuck was happening? Why are you in a basement bedroom instead of your normal one? When was he going to let you out? Would he ever let you out?

Your stomach gurgles and you just barely make it to the small garbage can that's sitting on the ground next to the bed.

"Ah, the doctor said vomiting was another side effect. I'm sure it will pass soon." Coriolanus says, unbothered as you heave up whatever gunk he had gotten the doctor to pump into your stomach.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, wishing for something to take away the burning at the back of your throat.

"Alright. Since you're awake now, I'll be leaving. Lots of meetings today and the arena is nearly ready I just have to approve a few more things." Coriolanus says, standing up and fixing his tie as he begins to walk away.

"Wait." You groan, trying to reach out to him

"I'll be back for dinner. I know how much you love to listen to me talk about my day."

Two months later

There's been a certain warmness about you recently. Perhaps it's the flowers he brought you your maybe the fact that he takes the heavy chain off your ankle when he visits you. He decides it's the latter as he watches thumb through the new books he handed you.

"Do you like them?" He asks

"Yes." You smile as you gently place them on your shelf.

You're so effortlessly pretty, even here, locked away from the sunlight and every inch of society. Here, you're all his, every bit of you hinges on him opening the heavy metal door that keeps you here. It's been so long since you had even tried to argue or fight back against him. Sure, the beginning had been rough, you had thrown things at him and had at one point threatened him with a butter knife but now you we so docile. Almost like he had domesticated a wild animal and now it was trained perfectly.

"Could you bring the little cakes tonight?" You ask

"The ones with the powdered sugar on top?"

You nod as you sit on your bed, stretching out your right ankle which is marked with a heavy bruise from the chain he had to put on you. It wasn't what he wanted but after you tried attacking him when he entered the room on the second day of your enclosure, he knew it was a necessity.

"I'll have the chef make extra. We can eat as many as you like and get fat." He teases

You smile at him but he can see something else behind your eyes.

Sadness.

You remind him of a bird with clipped wings. Freedom so effortlessly in reach but unable to fly to reach it.

If only he could trust you enough to let you back into the main floors of the mansion.

Time passes slowly whenever Coriolanus is gone and it gives you time to think. You were going mad, chained up all day, waiting for him to bring you your meals and sit with you at night. So in an effort to chase your impending insanity away, you thought. You thought about your childhood and if things would be different had you never given Coriolanus that stupid bowl of fruit. Perhaps you'd be head of your father's company now, or maybe you'd be married to some elite capitol man.

Your mind was always racing, overanalyzing every little thing and every little mistake you had ever made.

Perhaps you should've never confronted him about those pictures. If you had just slipped out of the mansion one day what would had happened? Maybe he would've caught you or perhaps you would've made it back to your parents, back to your old life and self.

How naive you had been at that gala years ago, thinking that you didn't need anything but Coriolanus. What a stupid girl you had grown up to be.

The past few weeks had been rough. You had been sucking up to Coriolanus to be let back into the main part of the mansion. You claimed to just want to feel sunlight again. Of course, you also planned on running the moment you had an opening but he didn't need to know that half.

Coriolanus was simply insane, it was a conclusion you had come to after all these long days. Maybe he had always been like this but you were just too blind to see it. Maybe his nice gestures and honey-coated words had disguised the monster that lurked behind those eyes. All you knew was that he was the worst man in all of Panem and here you sat, suffering all because you were his favorite.

"My heart burns for you."

What a load of bullshit.

He stays true to his word and arrives that night for dinner, cakes in hand. Silenced Avoxes serve you your food and Coriolanus sits across from you at the table that had mysteriously appeared one night when you were asleep. The chain on your ankle made an unpleasant sound as you shifted in your seat.

"The salmon is nice, isn't it?" Coriolanus asks as he eats

"Yes, it's wonderful. Very buttery." You say, struggling to find exactly what was good about it.

You didn't want salmon, you didn't really want anything anymore, perhaps you were finally giving into whatever game he was playing by keeping you here.

"I've decided to replace the curtains throughout the mansion. I've found the blue to be a bit ugly. Tomorrow there will be beautiful maroon ones hung." He informs you

You had hand-picked the blue ones, years ago.

"I'm sure they will be beautiful." You say looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus stops chewing and sets his silverware down.

"If you're going to mock me, you shouldn't even open your mouth. You know I hate it when you're full of attitude so why do you still try?" He says

It's a warning. You know it, he knows it.

"I know. I was being serious." You say, "I hope I get to see the maroon curtains soon, Coriolanus."

"Coryo." He corrects, placing a bite of food in his mouth

"Coryo." You parrot.

He smiles, pleased with you.

"You will, soon."

Dinner passes slowly as you finish your salmon to the tune of Coriolanus' talking. Something about the latest games being a wonderful success and that the big finale would be either tomorrow or the next. He suggests you watch on the little TV that sits in the corner, untouched, it was something that was added a week ago, specifically so you could watch the games. You promise to watch and he smiles at you again.

Coriolanus bids you goodnight after dessert. He double-checks your chain before straightening up and gently kissing your forehead.

"Goodnight, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, Coryo."

The past week had been going nearly perfectly for Coriolanus. Not only had the games been perfect, but you had been impressing him. Sure, a few days ago at dinner you had called him Coriolanus and he nearly lost his cool after he thought you insulted the curtains but that was behind him now.

He had finally concluded that he'd release you from the basement. He missed your presence in the mansion and at the normal dinner table. He wasn't quite sure about letting you have full roam yet, perhaps he'd sedate you during the days and let you walk around at night, when he could personally keep an eye on you before bedtime. The idea of one of the Axoxes watching you didn't sit right, after all, if you ran what would they do? They couldn't even shout for help to bring you back inside.

He was positively giddy as he walked down the many flights of steps that led to where you were. He wanted to show you the greenhouse first. Sure, you had seen it before but the way the roses were blooming recently was simply too good to pass up. He had planted new ones recently too, blushing pink ones that reminded him of you and your warmness to him.

The metal door was cool against his palm as he opened it to reveal your darkened room. The door let out a heavy groan as it shut behind him.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be sleeping when he entered, he often visited during the night and would watch you, as if you were going to disappear. However, this time the darkness confused him. It was the middle of the day, surely you weren't still asleep?

The soft clink of that ridiculous chain filled his ears as he stepped towards the lamp that sat on your shelf.

"Are you hiding from me, darling?" He asked into the darkness, ready to scoop you up and hold you close.

Silence answered his question as his eyes tried to focus on anything.

The softest rustle of fabric fills his ears as he quickly turns to his right. The slightest shimmer of color reaches his eyes, illuminated by what little light wormed its way under the door. It's you, in that sweater you often wore.

"I see you." He says reaching out to what he thinks might be your arm. "What a pretty shade of blue that is. I'll have a designer make a dress in that color for you."

He swears he hears you whisper his name but perhaps it was just in his head as he steps forward.

Coriolanus feels the smile that was on his face drop into his stomach when he hears it again, the rustle of fabric. You were behind him now.

His hands twitch one, then twice, and before he can react, you're there, in front of him again, anger polluting your pretty face.

His lips form your name but it never leaves his mouth. Instead, the cool metal of that chain he had intended on removing was cutting his vocal cords off.

The chain he hated putting on you, the chain you had desperately tried to claw off many times as he watched through a grainy video feed was rapidly wrapping its way around his neck, ready to destroy him.

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[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Enver Gortash Musings 13

Content Warning: illness, mentions of breastfeeding, feeling like a bad mother, and acknowledgment of a few of the horrible things Enver has done like murder.

About five years into your marriage, you give birth to your second child. A beautiful baby boy that you name Jahson because Enver swears up and down he can't think of a name. Despite your probing about male names in his family, he waves all of those questions off. So you list male names until you get to Jahson, which Enver declares is a strong name. So, tired from the birth and utterly done with the conversation, you declare his name to be Jahson.

You're on bedrest for a few weeks, healing from the birth, and you spend that time tending to your newborn son and four year old daughter, Ember. Ember decides that Jahson is ugly, despite Enver repeatedly explaining to her that all babies are pink and wrinkly right after birth.

Despite thinking he's ugly, she's constantly asking you to let her hold Jahson. You can't get over how much love you feel watching one of your babies hold the other, especially when Enver starts talking to Jahson about her day.

It's when Jason is about one month old that you come down with a fever. A rough fever that strikes quickly and leaves you unable to get out of bed despite your best efforts.

Two days in, Enver catches you out of bed and trying to walk to the nursery. "Absolutely not." He says firmly.

He guided you back to bed despite your protests, and ordered the maids to bring you some tea and water. He tucks you in among your pillows and blankets, scolding you. "Honestly, darling, the doctor was quite clear. No walking around. You were so close to the stairs, what if you fainted?"

You began crying in earnest, and Enver stood there, awkwardly looking down at you. "... Darling? Is it the fever?"

"I'm not a good mother." You sob.

Enver sits on the edge of your bed, "You must be under the effect of some illusion spell, my darling. You are a wonderful mother, the children are lucky to have you."

"Good mother's don't sit in bed while their children miss them." You sniffled.

Enver grabs a handkerchief, dabbing your tears away. "That's quite enough of those silly tears, my love. You're ill, you need to stay in bed until you get better. The sooner you get well again, the sooner you can run after Ember and feed Jahson again."

You look up in a panic, "Jahson! What has he been eating?!"

Enver patted your head gently. "I had a temporary wet nurse hired. Don't be glum, this is only until you get better."

You hated the idea of another woman nursing your baby. Nursing had always been an experience you felt strengthened your connection to your children. A bonding experience unlike any other in the early stages of life. To have some stranger doing it was... Well, not enjoyable. Still, Jahson deserved milk, and you were in no state to give it.

"... How are the children? Is Ember still trying to tie-"

Enver smiles, "She hasn't quite figured out tying shoes yet, I'm afraid. She practiced all afternoon yesterday on my boots as I did some work in my office. When I stood up to go to the bathroom, I fell face first on the floor."

You gasped, suddenly worried. "You fell?!"

"just a tumble."

"Your knee-"

"Is fine." He said firmly. Enver disliked talking about his bad knee. And gods forbid you suggested he stay off it for a day or two, or ice it in the evenings. "I landed on my face, not my knee."

Despite yourself, you giggle. The whole conversation and trying to walk has taken so much out of you that you don't even realize how tired you are until you fall back into your pillows.

Enver takes a cold cloth from a bowl on your bedside, dabbing your forehead. "Easy, my darling. I'll send for the doctor again in a day or so if you don't get better. The maids have been giving you your medicine? On time?"

You paused, "Well... This morning they didn't communicate and they gave me a double dose. It was a simple mistake, the butler has scolded them already, trust me."

Enver grumbled, "Had I been there-"

"You'd make them disappear." You said, the illness suddenly making you honest. "By Ilmater's Grace, Enver, they're young women who made a small mistake that made me a bit loopy for a few hours. They didn't try and poison me."

Enver looks at you, feigning innocence. "I've no idea what you mean-"

"I'm not stupid, Enver." You said softly. "I know the servants who occasionally go missing are because of you. I know the stable hand's scars on his back are because of you. I know a lot more than you think."

Enver sighed, taking the cup of tea from the maid when she brings it in. She rushes out, not wanting to be around Enver again. Enver takes the teaspoon, stirring lemon and honey into your tea before he began feeding it to you spoonful by spoonful.

"I don't want you thinking about those things." He said firmly. "Let me worry about them."

"I know you're the one who brought the brain to The Gate years ago." You say, slurping another spoonful of tea down. "At least you helped undo that one."

Enver sets the tea cup down, taking your hand in his. "Darling, wherever are you getting all these ideas?"

You laugh humorlessly. "What, are you going to make me disappear too?"

"Don't you ever suggest such a thing." Enver's voice is firm, a touch of Bane's cold iron to his tone. His dark eyes are cutting, leaving no room for disobedience.

"Sorry." You whisper. "I didn't mean that. Obviously you wouldn't."

"Obviously." He agrees.

He feeds you a few more spoonfuls of tea, before cleaning your face with the cloth again. "I have to go soon. It's time for Ember and Jahson's evening walk. Will you be alright here alone, or shall I send for a servant to sit with you?"

You smiled sleepily at him, "You're taking them on their walks?"

Enver smiles back. "Of course. You're ill. I'm not just going to let my children be raised by the help."

[carrot-love-to-be-indecisive]

Desperate

Notes: Rosie has been married to her husband, Reginald O'Brian, for over twenty-plus years. However, as time passed, the charming facade of Reginald revealed his true self, and Rosie is desperate to escape her hellish marriage.

Trigger warning:

Blood/ gore, domestic abuse, murder, sexual violence, cannibalism

Rosie always starts her early mornings with a light breakfast and two cups of coffee. Today's morning was particularly stressful, due to her increased involvement with the suffrage movement in her local area. From the dining room, Rosie could hear her husband coming down from upstairs. She braced herself for whatever arguments her 'lovely' husband had in store for her this time. The sound of him coming down the stairs sounded determined.

Rosie hurried to finish her coffee when she felt two hands pressed firmly on her shoulders, keeping her in place as she tried to get up. "What's the hurry, my love?" A voice from behind said. It sounded accusatory, as always. Nervously, Rosie said, "I'm late for a…" She paused.

Rosie’s husband had made his distaste for the suffrage movement very clear to her. He disapproved of the idea of women's right to vote, believing they are too emotional to make any political decision, and that a woman's place is in the home and giving birth to children, preferably boys. 

"I'm late for my daily walk at the park," Rosie lied, looking up at her husband. His big mustache covered his mouth, making it hard to read his expression, but his small, beady eyes expressed distrust. He wasn't buying her lie. His hands pressed, ever so slightly, down on her shoulders.

"My love, you don't have to lie to me," he said, grinning. Rosie stayed quiet for a while. Should she deny it, or just tell him the truth? Sheepishly, Rosie looked up at her husband again. "I'm… late for a meeting with the ladies," Rosie confessed. Her husband looked down at her, his eyes more black than usually and his grip on her shoulders starting to hurt. He didn't need to hear the exact words to deduce what she was up to. With a snarling tone in his voice, he said, "Don't bother yourself. I want you to stay home today."

He let go of Rosie's shoulder and walked around to properly look her in the eyes. He leveled with her and continued, "I have a very important meeting today, and don't think I don't know what you and your little group of misguided lady friends are up to." He snarled, staring daggers into Rosie. His posture was threatening, but he hadn't done anything yet. It depended on what Rosie said next. Rosie contemplated whether or not she should stand her ground. But her previous scuffle with her husband ended very poorly for her. Rosie broke eye contact, looked down at her hands, and with a timid voice, she said, "Yes, of course, my dear."

Rosie hated herself for letting someone control her like this. But she had yet to recover from the last argument. Her husband leaned back, satisfied with her compliance. He didn't have to use his 'special' tactics to make her listen to him this time around. He patted her on the head in a patronizing way. "Good wife."

After Rosie's husband had left for his very important meeting, she felt that she could finally breathe again. A maid, carefully approached Rosie, with a silver tray in hand. She curtsied before she spoke. "My apologies, my lady, but have you finished your breakfast?"

Lost in thought, Rosie didn't initially respond to her maid. The maid, ever so carefully, cleared her throat to garner some attention from her lady again. Rosie snapped out of her deep thoughts and looked over at the maid. The maid repeated her question and motioned to the table where Rosie's unfinished coffee sat.

"Yes, of course," Rosie replied, feeling silly that she hadn't heard the maid the first time. As the maid began cleaning off the table, Rosie slipped back into her deep thoughts—dark, unsettling, and quite disturbing. As Rosie stared aimlessly, thinking about her husband and their past twenty plus years together, a storm brewed within her regal facade. Beneath the veneer of elegance and poise, resentment raged within her.

As a young and inexperienced lady with little to no say when it came to love or romance, Rosie had resigned herself to one day marrying a man her parents had chosen for her. Her mother and father summoned her to the living room, where she was met by both her parents and a gentleman she had yet to be introduced to.

The gentleman was tall and slender, with sharp, angular features. In simpler terms, Rosie found him quite attractive. Her father cleared his throat. "Rosie, I want you to meet Mr. O'Brien. He's an attorney at a prestigious law firm. Mr. O'Brien, this is my daughter Rosie."

"Charmed." Mr O'Brien said as he bowed. 

Rosie had just met this man, but she could feel a tingle in her body she'd never experienced before. Mr. O'Brien approached her, his movements exuding the confidence of a man accustomed to admiration, his dark eyes smoldering with a quiet intensity that made Rosie take a few steps back. She didn't even realize she was blushing until Mr. O'Brien pointed it out. "My, Miss Rosie, are you blushing?"

Rosie wished she could sink through the floor; she felt so embarrassed about her feelings. It wasn't very ladylike after all. Mr. O'Brien took Rosie's hand and kissed it gently. Rosie's face turned close to tomato red at this point. What was it about Mr. O'Brien that made her feel this way?

Her father cleared his throat once again. "Rosie, dear, I have asked Mr. O'Brien to accompany us for dinner. It will give the two of you a chance to get to know each other better."

In the midst of skipped heartbeats and flushed cheeks, Rosie nodded and gazed intensely into Mr. O'Brien's dark and mysterious eyes. Both her parents exchanged triumphant looks. It seemed their dear daughter had taken a liking to their chosen son-in-law.

Rosie and Mr. O'Brien, also known as Reginald, married after only three months of courtship. One could say their romance was a whirlwind, filled with intensity, passion, and heat. However, their marriage was built on a shaky foundation. While Rosie did love her husband, she consistently found his gaze wandering, from woman to woman, regardless of their marital status. It annoyed her to no end, and no matter how many times she expressed her displeasure about it. Reginald always had something to counter with, leaving Rosie on the losing end of every argument. Yet, she always found herself in his arms, forgiving him for his transgressions.

Years passed by and Rosie eventually came to terms that the love she and Reginald once had, was long gone. Her husband was away most of the day, for work, or for other women. His looks that she once admired had changed drastically and not for the better. Not that she was the beautiful rose she once saw herself as, but at least she kept up her appearance, as best she could. 

Rosie found solace in her friends who introduced her to the suffrage movement. The subject of women's rights became Rosie's new passion. She rallied, demonstrated on the street, and held speeches, gaining more and more notoriety among her peers. She became the local face of their movement, much to her husband's displeasure. But for the most part, Rosie did what she wanted; her husband was away so much, no one was really there to stop her. Except for the police, of course. The last straw for Reginald's patience was when Rosie was locked up for disturbing the peace.

Bailing her out was the most socially embarrassing thing he had ever dealt with. Newspapers covered the scandal on the front page, sending Reginald into an uncontrollable fit of rage. Porcelain was smashed, furniture toppled over, and Rosie was his next target. He yanked her hair so ferociously that it felt like her hair was being torn from her scalp. He forced Rosie into their bedroom, his push causing her to awkwardly land on the bed. Then it all went black.

But the feeling from that fight never disappeared. It lingered and festered inside Rosie. She had a burning hatred for the man she once called her soulmate. If only she could find a way out of this hellish marriage. But how does one kill someone without getting caught?

Rosie was snapped back to reality when she heard the loud ringing from the clock standing in the hallway nearby. She got up from her seat at the dining table. Her maid had cleared the table a long time ago. She must think of Rosie as odd or peculiar for just sitting there and doing absolutely nothing. Rosie shook her head. She had missed the meeting by a whole hour. Would it even be fruitful to go at this point, she pondered.

A loud knock was heard from the foyer. The household's trusted butler, Andy, opened the door. Rosie couldn't hear who it was, so she peeked around the corner to see who was at the entrance. She immediately beamed as she saw it was her friends at the door. Rosie rushed to greet them. "Rosie, where were you? We waited for you to show up?" One of her friends said, in an annoyed tone of voice. 

"I'm so sorry, I..." Rosie paused mid sentence, she contemplated if she should tell the truth. These are her friends and they would back her up no matter, especially considering the circumstances. 

"I was told to sit this one out." She replied with an exhausted breath. "I'm truly sorry ladies."

Her friends were a mix of different opinions. But the consensus was that it was absolutely unacceptable for Rosie's husband to tell her what to do when he got to do whatever he pleased. With some encouragement from her friends, Rosie bid them goodbye, and they went on their merry way.

Left alone, Rosie walked herself to the home library. She passed by Andy, who gave her a nod of acknowledgement.The library is not big, and most books stored there were ones she had already finished reading. She scanned the shelves aimlessly. Her finger stopped at the book title "Lady Audley's Secret," a book that revolves around the mysterious Lady Audley, who harbors a dark secret related to her past. Although Rosie had already read the book numerous times, she made herself comfortable in the corner of the library. Rosie had read almost three quarters of the book when she heard footsteps approaching her area of comfort. Peeking around one of the bookshelves was Andy, the butler. He gave a quick wave. ��I just wanted to let you know the cook and maid have already left for the day. I’ll be here until Mr. O'Brien is back.”

Rosie gave a small smile. She was thankful she wouldn’t be alone until Reginald was back home. Andy lingered a little bit longer, before he left Rosie alone again.

It was close to midnight when a booming sound came from the entrance hall. Reginald had arrived back home in a drunken stupor, shouting profanities. Andy had tried to calm Reginald down but was immediately pushed away. "Don't... Touch me... You filthy miscreant."

"WHERE'S MY WIFEY?" Reginald shouted out, looking around in the dark hallway. Andy once again attempted to calm and guide Reginald back to his sleeping quarters. But the older man was still strong in his drunkenness, pushing the young man to the side. Rosie had appeared by the top of the stairs, looking down at her husband with frustration. For a drunk, Reginald made it up the stairs quite fast. grabbing onto Rosie's arm. His breath smelled of alcohol and it made Rosie feel nauseous. She tried to get away, but Reginald's grip was tight. He flung her across the hallway, making her trip and fall head first into the carpet. Andy had reached the top of the stairs, ready to intervene, but Rosie had called out, demanding he stayed away.

It was one of those nights. Whatever had transpired at the meeting, it had not been in Reginald's favor, and now he was drunk, poised to vent his frustrations on whoever or whatever crossed his path. Andy was forced to watch as Rosie was dragged into one of the bedrooms. The door slammed shut, leaving Andy alone in the corridor. The sounds emanating from inside were muffled, but Andy could discern Rosie's pleas to her husband to stop. Resisting the urge to intervene and confront the bastard himself took every ounce of Andy’s resolve. It soon quieted down inside, and Andy had to hope that Reginald had perhaps blacked out. But far from it; Rosie's hellish night had just begun.

The night seemed endless and torturous. Rosie struggled to maneuver Reginald off of her so she could shift him beside her on the bed; he had drifted off to sleep while still on top of her. Every part of her body ached, making it impossible to find comfort, especially with her husband's incessant snoring aggravating the situation. Turning away from Reginald, Rosie rose from the bed. In the mirror, she confronted her disheveled appearance—her hair was tangled, and fresh bruises adorned her already battered body. Hastily, she dressed in fresh clothes, as the ones she had worn before lay torn to shreds on the floor.

Without making a noise, she managed to leave the bedroom without disturbing Reginald's sleep. Out in the corridor, it was dark, with only one lamp by the stairs still illuminated. Perhaps one of the maids, or maybe Andy had left it on for her? Rosie made her way down to the first floor, unsure of what she was going to do next. Usually, she simply wandered around like a lost cat in her own home. When Rosie reached the kitchen, she noticed the moonlight reflecting off the knives on the counter. Slowly, she approached and reached for one of them, dragging her finger along the blade—sharp and cold to the touch. "It's perfect," she said to herself, a smile creeping onto her lips.

Rosie returned to the room where Reginald was sleeping. He was still snoring, louder than a motor engine. Standing over the sleeping, snoring man, Rosie gripped the knife tightly in her hand. She couldn't stop shaking. What if he wakes up? What if he overpowers her and kills her? Her breathing grew heavier with each anxious thought, her hands beginning to clam up. "Just do it!" she scolded herself internally. At that moment, Reginald's snoring ceased. Rosie met his gaze, he was awake.

A shriek echoed through the room, accompanied by frantic up-and-down movements, blood splattering and covering most of the bed frame. Eventually, it all came to a halt. Rosie gazed down at her handiwork, unable to discern recognizable features on her late husband's disfigured face. When she glanced at her hands, she realized that the knife she held consisted only of the handle; the blade was lodged in Reginald's skull. In her vicious assault, the blade must have snapped off from the handle.

Rosie dropped the bloody handle onto the floor. She examined the mutilated body of her late husband. How odd, she thought to herself. Somehow he had become more desirable than he has been in years. Rosie looked at her hands again, covered in Reginald’s blood. The scent of blood made Rosie feel exhilarated. Without processing what she was doing, Rosie held her bloody hands close to her lips, she just wanted to know what it tasted like. The taste was metallic, salty, and slightly bitter, but at the same time very delicious. A wide smile crept up on her bloody lips. “My, my, maybe you can satisfy me one last time, my love.” Rosie spoke in a soft tone to the dead man laying on the bed, face completely obliterated.

The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the moonlight streaming in through the window, casting an eerie glow on the gruesome scene. Throughout the remainder of the night, Rosie gathered cleaning tools, new sheets, fresh knives, crates, and old bags. She had to get her late husband somewhere where he could be preserved for a longer period of time. She quickly realized she couldn't move Reginald's entire body in one piece. Rosie's next best option was to dismember him into manageable pieces. The moon provided sufficient light during her macabre task. However, cutting off limbs proved far more difficult than Rosie had anticipated. Her kitchen knives weren't strong enough, and she repeatedly cut herself in the process, forcing her to resort to other tools to break through the bones of his arms and legs.

As the sun began to rise, Rosie found herself still immersed in her gruesome work. Why did Reginald have to be so... meaty? She was drenched in both her own and Reginald's blood. Glancing at the small clock on the dresser, she noted it was nearly six in the morning; the servants would soon arrive at the estate to begin their duties. Rosie had to devise a plan to keep them at bay. Abandoning her current mission, she reminded herself that Reginald could wait—it's not as though he's going anywhere.

Rosie cleaned herself up, donned fresh clothes, and added some extra accessories to conceal her wounds from the cutting. As she descended the stairs, she could hear her cook and maid conversing in the kitchen.

"Well, don't just stand there, help me find the knives!"

"Where did you last see them?"

"Here, on the counter!"

Rosie prepared herself to interact with her maid and cook. Upon entering the kitchen, both her cook and maid curtsied in her presence. "My lady, good morning. I'm sorry, but breakfast will be delayed until I can find my kitchen knives." The cook sheepishly said, head lowered.

"That won't be necessary," Rosie replied, forcing herself to sound as normal as possible. "I was actually thinking that you all deserve a well-earned vacation."

The cook and maid looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "You mean unpaid leave?" the young maid asked, very confused.

"Oh, heavens no, I'll make sure you're paid the same amount as if you were working," Rosie chimed in, smiling an unnatural smile.

"What's this I hear about paid vacation?" Andy asked, inadvertently startling Rosie. Now that everyone was here Rosie repeated herself, expressing her wish for her employees to take a week off, to do whatever they pleased, as long as it was away from the estate. After much conversation, convincing and confirmation, the maid and the cook accepted the unexpected vacation but remained very confused. Andy was not as easily convinced.

"Why the sudden need to get rid of us?" he asked, rather accusatorily for Rosie's liking.

"I'm not getting rid of you, I'm simply giving you a week off from work," Rosie replied. "You should be happy!"

Andy looked at Rosie, trying to read her facial expression. Something seemed off. She appeared to be unraveling at the seams. "Rosie, did something happen after the..."

"No! ...I mean, no," Rosie corrected herself.

Andy turned away from Rosie to ascend the stairs to the room he last saw her in. Rosie followed behind, grabbing his arm to stop him. "Wait! Ouch," she winced as the cuts on her hand hurt when she tried to grab hold of Andy’s arm.

Andy paused and looked back at Rosie. She was cradling her hands close to her. He could see blood seeping through the fabric of her gloves, accessories she had put on to cover up her secret. "What did you do?" he asked sternly.

"I... I was desperate," Rosie whispered back.

The end/ Slut

[marshmallowprotection]

What are your thoughts on the new Cg? Butler Saeran? I’m not use to the him nor Jumin and Zen with glasses. But they look good

Normally, I would do a lengthy analysis post about the image, but there isn’t much here for me to analyze! I do want to write something for the anniversary that I will try to get out before the end of the month, but it's not going to be tacked onto an image analysis since there isn't much for me to say here other than point out a few Easter eggs. 

I got what I wanted. Jaehee in a tuxedo. This is what I manifested at the start of the month and I am grateful that we not only got her in a maid outfit, we got her in a butler outfit, too. Jaehee stans, you have won and she is front and center! This is her moment and she is killing it. I feel the need to stare at her for a little while because it's cute and there's no way I'm going to let this moment pass me by without really appreciating Jaehee aesthetically.

I'll be honest, I don't know why the recent trend has been to make our boy Yoosung super clumsy. He's never really been a clumsy guy and I don't know where someone got the idea that Yoosung isn't on top of what he's doing. I will agree in saying he's probably the easiest person to bully in the entire universe because he's sweet and gullible, but he isn't clumsy, and yet, every image we've gotten of him this year other than his birthday image has had him busting his ass on the ground in one way or another.

Does ANYONE know why they're bullying Yoosung this bad? I mean, he's really cute here and I appreciate that he's trying his best to really impress the MC, but c'mon, give him a break.

I did not realize how badly I needed Jumin in glasses. Jumin's already a very handsome person but somehow adding glasses really elevates it here for some reason. I don't know how his vibe has enhanced for me but it has. I wear glasses myself and I always have, so it's nice to see the characters in glasses in official artwork because I'm always super curious to see how they would look. It's working for Jumin, that I can tell you.

I like that his hair isn't as neat and tidy as it usually is, too.

I fear they have slayed. Saeyoung and Zen are dazzling in their own right and I can't remember the last time they were drawn side by side but I think it's been a little while.

I've already noticed many people have pointed out that Saeyoung is wearing a ring. It's a little bit silly that he's wearing it over his glove, but I have to admit that is something he would do if this were his timeline. He is proud of the fact that he gets to live in this world, and he's even happier to know that he has somebody by his side who understands him more than anyone else. He's definitely that guy who doesn't stop talking about his partner because he's so in love. 

Zen with roses is something I've come to expect because he's also a traditional romantic. Red roses are the best way to captivate someone with your love and it’s no surprise that he follows that path. It might seem a little cliche but who is he if not somebody who loves romantic cliches? He is that guy who would watch romcoms with you all day long regardless of your relationship status with him, he just gets it.

I don't know how I feel about him wearing glasses since he doesn't seem like a glasses guy, but maybe if I saw him in sunglasses I might be able to rationalize this better. He's wearing a stylized pair here and I think it's the gold that's throwing me off. If it was silver, I don't think I would feel as perplexed by how I feel because silver fits him better as that's typically what he chooses for himself.  

Controversial thing to say every time I say it, but I have to tell you guys that Jihyun is still my third favorite character in the game, and I really don’t mind when Saeran and V are drawn together. I recognize that they do this because those two are tied together as the leads of Another Story, just as the core five, meaning Yoosung, Zen, Jaehee, Jumin, and Seven are drawn together.

But, to me, seeing Jihyun with everyone makes me feel like there is a timeline where V did the right thing for everyone and asked for help at the first sign of trouble instead of continually shooting himself in the foot. A lot of the art that's drawn with V included is self-indulgent and can only exist as true fanservice because it would never be true in most routes of the game. 

Normally, I would expect him to look exasperated in art like this but he seems to be fairly confident which is a good change for Jihyun. I’ll take it! 

I have no idea what they're doing here, did they choreograph a song and dance? They aren't the most coordinated members of the group so that makes me want to laugh. It's sweet, but I have a huge feeling they're going to trip over each other if not on their own feet. Saeran is as cute as always, I could talk about him for hours.

Seeing him as a butler always takes me back to when Ray said he would be happy to be your butler in a huge mansion. That was utterly indicative of the fact he was willing to become subservient to you if it meant you would stick around. That’s what the first bad ending is all about. Unfortunately, he thought so poorly of himself that he would be willing to make himself nothing more than something for you to push around if that's what you wanted. 

At least, in this context, he's doing it because he wants to make you happy, sure, but it's not something he's doing to make sure you stick around, he knows you'll still be there no matter what because he doesn't have to work himself to the bone to prove he's worthy of your companionship. 

I don't know if anybody picked this up but the painting is in homage to the anniversary image from two years ago. Rika was in the painting that time, and this time around, it's MC.

I do think it's worth noting that they are playing with light and dark imagery which is to be expected in a game that takes a lot of cues for religious imagery. Rika and MC are always bathed in white and black, light and dark, true contrast.

They're both wearing a dress that goes off of the shoulders, the only difference being the color and the style. MC has a more sleek pattern and Rika is bathed in ruffles. Rika’s seems to be more constrained and MC’s a little more loose around the edges. MC is free to make choices one way or the other by pushing outward, and Rika makes choices that go against her best interest as she pulls inward. I think another CG that plays on this is the BE from V Route.

Love her or hate her, there are important parallels at play here. 

In conclusion, Rika has always been like this in official art and I don't know what to tell you.

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Nineteen

Summary: Emily moves in, Dieter gets the flu … and Valentine’s Day Dieter Bravo style.

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 5600+

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites @weho2kcmo

Things moved quickly once we got back to California. With the help of a moving company (and Oladele) I was soon out of my condo and living in Dieter’s house. I also bought a new car. Dieter had insisted I “just look” at the Audis and I fell in love with a little blue sedan. It was at the lower end of the range, but still expensive to me. Writing out a check for roughly $40,000 was a surreal experience. 

Dieter insisted the car needed a name and that it was a boy. “Auden? Austin? Augustus?,” he suggested.

”Augustus? What kind of name is that for a car?”

”Well, there aren’t that many names that start with A-U,” he said, furrowing his brow. He pulled out his phone. “Auggie? 

”That’s just short for Augustus,” I pointed out. “And we can’t call an Audi Austin because that’s another make of car.”

”Then it has to be Auden,” Dieter said. “He was a poet, wasn’t he? That’s good for a bookish person, right?”

And so Auden it was. 

**********************************************

Soon it was February and Sam’s birthday was coming up. We always called each other on our birthdays, setting aside an hour just for us. One year she’d even walked away from her own birthday party to sit outside on her porch in the cold so we could have our birthday chat.

”Why don’t you fly back there and surprise her?” Dieter suggested. “Call her from the sidewalk and when she answers, tell her to come outside.”

”I can’t just fly to Maryland on a whim,” I said. Dieter raised an eyebrow and I realized that I could do that. I could go online and book a flight and hotel and not have to worry about where the money was coming from. It felt decadent. It felt wrong. It felt amazing.

”Do it,” he urged. “Let me be the one sitting home alone for once.”

I flew to Maryland and did just what Dieter suggested: I stood outside of Sam’s house and called her. When she opened the front door and saw me, we both burst into tears. It had been years since we’d seen each other in person.

”Oh, my God, chickie!,” she sobbed. “This is the best birthday present ever!”

We spend the weekend on her couch, eating chips and ice cream, watching old movies and basically just being teenage girls; all the stuff we missed out on doing together when she’d moved away.

”So you’re getting married,” Sam said at one point. She took my hand and made a show of studying my ring from several angles. 

“It still doesn’t quite seem real,” I admitted. “I’ve barely moved in and honestly I still feel like I’m just on a break and I’ll have to go home and back to work.”

”Any wedding plans yet?” There was a glint in her eye that made me feel excited.

”Nothing firm. Why, do you have an idea?”

”Remember when we were little and we did that whole soap opera with our Barbies and Kens and my brother’s G.I. Joes? And your Barbie got married at the beach and then her husband got eaten by sharks?”

I hadn’t thought about that summer in years. We’d played out so many silly plot lines with our dolls and action figures. Every day we created a new episode. Of course, our soap opera leaned more heavily on car chases and jumping off cliffs and fighting wild tigers than romance, but we were only about eight years old at the time. 

“I’m not feeding Dieter to a shark,” I said.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Duh! I meant, how about a beach wedding? You live in L.A., you said you want a summer wedding so Dieter’s brother and his kids can come out … my kids will be off for the summer.”

”You’re just fishing for an invitation,” I teased. 

“Oh, I’m going to be there,” Sam said firmly. “I’m going to be your maid of honor.”

I felt tears welling in my eyes. I couldn’t afford to fly back east for Sam’s wedding, but she’d still asked me to be her maid of honor, only giving the job to one of her cousins after I’d had to decline. 

“I’d love to have you at the wedding,” I said. “It won’t be big or fancy. Dieter and I haven’t talked details yet but we both want something small and informal.”

”Which is perfect for a beach wedding,” Sam said. “I can totally see Dieter in a white suit, barefoot, open neck shirt, and you in a white sundress, the ocean breeze playing with your hair.”

“Or maybe Deet in board shorts and a PacSun t shirt.”

”You could wear a bikini and freak out your Aunt Helen!”

”Speedos!”

We collapsed into giggles. “I’ve missed you, chickie,” I said.

”I’ve missed you, too,” Sam said. “But just think, now you’ll be able to come visit whenever you want. And I’ll have a place to stay in California.” She winked.

**************************************************

That winter, I’d managed to avoid catching the flu, which was an occupational hazard of working in a public school. Dieter, unfortunately, was not as lucky, as I found when I called him from the airport when I landed.

“I’b fide,” he said over FaceTime, before turning away to blow his nose loudly.  He’d clearly been doing that a lot, because his nose was red and tender looking. 

“You are not fine,” I retorted. “I shouldn’t have gone.”

”I didin stard feeling sick undil after you lefd. Bud id’s nod dad bad.” He immediately sneezed and coughed at the same time.

”Go to bed,” I said. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

On the way home from LAX, I stopped at a Walgreens and stocked up on everything I thought Dieter might possibly need. When I finally got home. I let myself in and dropped my bags on the kitchen island. “Hey, sweetie, are you awake?” I called out.

I turned around when I heard a noise coming from the hallway. Dieter shuffled into the dining room, his ratty green bathrobe wrapped around a dirty t-shirt and pajama pants, with an assortment of used tissues falling out of the pockets. His hair was even more wild than usual, and looked greasy. His nose was red and raw, he clearly hadn’t shaved since I’d left home and his eyes were glassy.

“Hey,” he croaked, leaning against the wall.

“You look horrible,” I said.

“Thangs,” he grumped. “I feel lige shid.”

I walked over to him and laid my hand on his forehead. He felt hot and smelled gross. “Ugh, when was the last time you showered?” I asked. “Or changed your clothes.”

He shrugged. “Coupla days ago,” he mumbled.

I shook my head. “Disgusting.” I turned him around and pushed him back toward the bedroom. The bed looked as bad as he did. The covers were all shoved into a tangled pile in the center of the bed and there was an overflowing trash can surrounded by a scattered ring of tissues.

“Okay, we’re getting you and this room cleaned up,” I said. I plopped him down on the bed and opened the dresser to pull out a clean t-shirt and pair of pajama pants. I popped into the hall to grab some towels and a washcloth from the linen closet and then came back to find Dieter on his side, groaning into the pillow.

“Get up, babe,” I told him. “You need a shower.”

“Don’d wan’ a shower,” he grumbled. 

“Tough,” I said. “You stink. Come on, I’ll help you.”

I pulled him up and led him to the bathroom, where I turned on the water to warm up. I knew he really did feel horrible, because as I stripped off his clothes, he didn’t make any jokes or try anything cute. He seemed a bit wobbly, so I got undressed as well and we stepped into the shower together. 

“Lean against the wall if you feel dizzy or weak,” I told him. I adjusted the shower head so the water wasn’t hitting him in the face, and helped him step under the spray.

“Cold,” he complained. 

“It’ll warm up in a minute,” I said. “Come on, let’s get you clean.” I worked quickly, soaping up the washcloth and scrubbing his body thoroughly. “Bend down,” I told him when I was done, and I shampooed and rinsed his hair.

I helped him get out and wrapped him in towels. “Dry off and we’ll get you in clean jammies,” I said. He rolled his eyes at the word “jammies” but he did as he was told. I helped him into the clean shirt and flannel pants, put my clothes back on, and then led him out to the living room.

“I’m going to park you on the couch while I change the bed, okay?” I tucked some throw pillows behind his back and spread one of the throws that lived on the back of the couch over his lap. I put the remote in his hand and smoothed his wet hair back off his forehead so I could give him a kiss.

I stripped the bed and carried the dirty linens to the laundry room, then went back and remade the bed with clean sheets, blankets, pillowcases and the summer duvet that was tucked in the very back of the linen closet. When I was done, I threw the winter comforter into the washer and went back to check on Dieter.

He was staring dully at the TV, which was tuned to a cooking program, something he normally didn’t watch. “You want to stay out here, or go back to bed?” I asked. He turned slowly to me and blinked twice.

“Bed,” he said after a moment.

I walked him back to the bedroom, tucked him in, piled pillows behind him so he was partially propped up and then went to fetch my supplies from Walgreens. I couldn’t remember what we had in the medicine chest so I had bought everything: a thermometer, assorted medications, tissues, cough drops … even a couple of cans of chicken soup and a box of saltine crackers.

First, I took his temperature. “One hundred point two,” I said. “Not too bad.” I dropped the Tylenol back into the bag. We wouldn’t be needing that unless his fever spiked higher. Then I asked him about his symptoms.

“Congestion … definitely,” I said. “Is your throat sore?”

“Kind of scratchy,” he admitted. 

“But not sore sore?”

“No.”

“How about coughing?”

We ran through every symptom I could think of and I lined up the medications and other supplies I’d need on the nightstand on his side of the bed. 

“Okay,” I said when I was done. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

He shook his head. “Not hungry.”

“You need to eat,” I said firmly. “I’m going to make you some soup.”

“I’m not hungry,” he whined.

“Tough,” I replied. “You’re going to eat.”

I heated up a can of chicken noodle soup and boiled some water for tea. By the time I brought it into the bedroom, Dieter was half asleep.

“Dinner time,” I said brightly.

He shook his head and flipped me off. “Told you I’m not hungry,” he grumped.

“I don’t care. At least drink the broth and the tea. I put in honey and lemon for your throat,” I said as I sat down beside him. “And if you won’t eat it yourself, I’ll feed you.”

I got him to eat half the soup and most of a cup of tea before I gave up. I made him take his medication and then went out to the kitchen. I dumped the leftovers and put the dishes in the sink to be washed later. I checked on the washer and since it still had over twenty minutes left, I reheated the rest of the soup for myself. By the time I’d finished eating and washed up the dirty dishes, it was time to load the comforter in the dryer.

I had an hour to kill before it was done, so I went back to check on Dieter. He was asleep, so I very quietly changed into my nightshirt and curled up on the couch to watch some TV while I waited for the dryer to finish. Two episodes of “The Big Bang Theory” later, I fetched the toasty warm comforter from the laundry room and headed to the bedroom.

I pulled the summer duvet off the bed and threw the warm comforter over Dieter. He woke up. “Whad you doin’?,” he mumbled.

I crawled under the covers. “Nice warm blankie,” I said, snuggling down. “Go back to sleep.”

He grunted and coughed, then reached for the box of tissues I’d left on his nightstand. He blew his nose loudly and slumped back onto the pillows with a groan. “You should sleep in the guest roob,” he said. “You’ll ged sick.”

I kicked him gently. “Like I haven’t already been around your germs all evening,” I replied. “Besides, this way I’m here if you need anything.”  I curled up, enjoying the warmth of the freshly laundered comforter. Despite Dieter’s coughs and sniffles, I fell asleep pretty quickly. It had been a long day.

***************************

I woke up at 3:00 am when Dieter had a coughing fit. “Sorry, sorry,” he said in between hacking coughs. “Shit.”

“It’s okay,” I said. I measured out a dose of cough syrup and fetched him a glass of ice water to wash it down with. “Take this.”  He made a face but swallowed the medicine. I didn’t blame him; that stuff tasted nasty. Cherry flavor my ass.

“Come here,” I said, after he’d drunk half the glass of water to get the taste out of his mouth. I opened a jar of Vicks VapoRub and pushed his t-shirt up. “This will help.” I started rubbing the greasy ointment in small circles over his chest. I suppressed the urge to sing “Soft Kitty,” knowing that Dieter would not understand. He’d watched “The Big Bang Theory” with me a few times but claimed he didn't get it.

Once I’d coated his chest, I pulled the shirt back down and started rubbing Vicks on his throat. “I know it smells horrible, but it works,” I said as he blinked from the pungent fumes. I chuckled. “Just be glad my friend Carla’s mom isn’t around. When I had sleepovers at her house when I was little, she rubbed Vicks on our feet and made us wear white socks to bed. Even if we weren’t sick.”

I put the lid back on the jar and smeared the leftover ointment on his stomach, just to be a jerk. He grumped at me and I pressed a kiss on his belly, just below where I’d rubbed the Vicks. 

“Not in the mood,” he grumbled. 

I pretended to pout. “You’re no fun,” I said. I put the jar of Vicks back on the nightstand, leaning across him to reach it. I knew that in that position, he could see right down my sleep shirt, and it was riding up at the bottom to show off my panties but he didn’t react at all.  “You really are sick,” I said, patting his cheek. “Go back to sleep.”

He just grunted and then coughed in my face. “Sorry,” he mumbled, as I crawled back over to my side of the bed. “I know this isn’t fun for you.”

“I’m not here to have fun,” I told him. “I’m here to take care of you. Now shut up and go back to sleep.”

**************************************************

The next day I spent most of my time running back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom. He wanted coffee but then it made his stomach hurt. He wanted toast but then only ate half of it. I made him tea with honey but it got cold too fast, and when I heated it in the microwave it was too hot and burned his tongue. Every time he took a dose of medicine, he needed fresh ice water. 

For lunch, I suggested grilled cheese, my go-to meal when I was feeling sick as a kid. He took two bites. It was like taking care of a nearly six foot toddler. 

“You have to eat, sweetie,” I told him. “All that medicine on an empty stomach isn’t good for you.”

“I’m not fucking hungry,” he growled. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” I said. I took the remains of his lunch out to the kitchen, cut off the part he’d bitten and finished the sandwich myself. I knew he didn’t feel well, but it was starting to wear on me. I pulled out my phone and texted Sam.

ME: Dieter is driving me crazy. Why are men such babies when they’re sick?

She replied quickly with a series of laughing emojis.

We commiserated about the tribulations of taking care of a man-child until I heard a pathetic voice calling my name from the bedroom. I took the phone with me as I went to see what he wanted.

“I’m hungry,” he said. “Can I have that sandwich now?”

I texted Sam as I went back out to the kitchen to make a fresh grilled cheese.

ME: Can I divorce someone I’m not married to yet?

Her only reply was another string of laughing emojis.

**************************************************

The next morning, Dieter still had a low grade fever and his cough was no better. “I think we need to go to urgent care,” I told him.

“I’m fine,” he whined. “I hate the doctor.”

“But I don’t think this cough syrup is strong enough,” I replied. “You might need the prescription stuff. Get dressed.”

He grumped and complained but changed into jeans and a clean t-shirt while I called the closest urgent care that took his insurance. They wouldn’t make an appointment but claimed the wait time was currently less than an hour. “Is your phone charged? We might have a bit of a wait,” I asked.

It took twenty minutes to find his phone, which had slipped down between the couch cushions at some point. The battery was at 45%, so I had to fetch the car charger from his car before we could leave. Fortunately, it took long enough to get to the urgent care that his phone was up to 70% by the time we were parked. I knew he’d get bored sitting in the waiting room if he didn’t have his phone to play with. It really is like taking care of a giant toddler, I thought. 

The waiting room was three quarters full and when we checked in, the receptionist told me in a bored voice that it would probably be close to ninety minutes before we could see a doctor. “We had a couple of soccer injuries come in and they got jumped to the head of the line,” she explained. “Fill out the forms and have a seat.”

*****************************************

“Mr. Bravo?,” a nurse finally called out. I nudged Dieter, who had started to doze off.

“What?”

“It’s your turn. Come on,” I said.

We followed the nurse into the back. She kept giving him curious looks as she sat him down at her station to start taking his vitals. “I’m sorry,” she said after a minute. “It’s just …”

“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s used to being stared at.”

Dieter started to say something smart but veered into another coughing fit.

The nurse nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t try to talk.” She handed him some tissues and went back to laying out her instruments. She took his temperature, blood pressure and checked his blood oxygen levels.

“Slight fever, and the coughing has the blood pressure up a bit, but ox levels are good,” the nurse said as she jotted things down on a form. “Okay, let’s put you in a room and the doctor will be with you soon.”

She led us into an examination room. Dieter slumped on the exam table, the paper crinkling and crunching underneath him. I settled in an uncomfortable chair and we waited. And waited.

“This is ridiculous,” Dieter said after we’d been in the exam room for nearly twenty minutes. “We’re wasting our time.”

“No we’re not,” I said.  “Just be patient.” I chuckled. “Get it, you’re a patient … so you need to be patient.”

He just shook his head and flipped me off. So much for making him laugh. 

The doctor finally came in, a flustered looking young Indian woman. “So sorry for the wait,” she said. “I’m Dr. Pradesh. We’re short staffed today because of this flu.” She looked at the file in her hand. “Which you appear to have, Mr. Bravo.” She smiled apologetically.

She quickly examined Dieter, looking in his ears, up his nose, and listening to his heart and lungs. “Okay,” she said when she was done. “Lungs are definitely congested but I don’t hear anything too concerning.” She pulled out a prescription pad. “I’m going to get you some cough syrup with codeine, which should help. It’s stronger than the over the counter stuff you’ve been taking. And an inhaler to open up the bronchial passages.” She turned to me.

“I take it you’re looking after him,” she said. I nodded. “Rest, lots of fluids, make sure he takes his meds,” she said, ticking each item off on her fingers. “This virus usually runs its course in about two weeks, but the first week is the worst. He should start feeling better in a few days.”

She handed me the prescription form and smiled at Dieter. “I hope you feel better, Mr. Bravo,” she said. “If your symptoms get worse, call us or your primary doctor.” She shook his hand, then mine, and was gone.

The nurse popped in a moment later with some paperwork in her hand. “Okay, you’re ready to go.” She hesitated a moment. “Um, I know you aren’t feeling well, but … do you think I could get an autograph?”

Dieter sighed, but smiled and took the pen she shyly offered. He scribbled his signature on a scrap of paper and we were on our way.

“Sorry,” I said as we buckled ourselves into the car. 

“For what?”

“You feel like crap and still got accosted by a fan,” I said.

He shrugged. “She was very polite about it. I wouldn’t call it being accosted.”

“Still,” I said, as I backed the car out of the parking space. “I know it’s annoying.”

“Not your fault,” he said, before starting to cough violently again. 

We stopped at CVS on the way home. “You can wait in the car if you don’t feel like going in,” I told him and after a moment he nodded.

“If you don’t mind,” he said. He looked exhausted. I kissed him on the forehead and held out my hand for his wallet.

Fortunately the pharmacy had no line and I got his prescriptions after a short wait. Still, Dieter was asleep by the time I got back to the car. He was slumped in the passenger seat, his mouth hanging slightly open. I felt a sudden surge of love for him. Despite the way he’d been driving me crazy, I knew it was the virus that made him so grumpy and needy. All I wanted was for him to feel better.

I got into the car as quietly as I could, but he still woke up. “I’m awake,” he mumbled as he sat up straighter. 

“You’re fine, babe,” I told him, placing the pharmacy bag on his lap. “Now let’s get you home.”

*****************************

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in the guest room?” Dieter asked after I’d gotten him home, back in pajamas, into bed, fed, and medicated.

“Why? Are you sick of me already? Get it? Sick.” I asked. I hopped onto the bed next to him.

“Fuck off,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m not going anywhere” I told him. “Got to take care of you, sweetie.” I kissed him on the cheek. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I’m not a kid,” he grumped, but I could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He liked the idea of me taking care of him.

“You’re acting like one,” I retorted. “Everyone does, when they’re sick. And what does a sick kid want most? To be taken care of.” I slid my arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “Which is exactly what I’m going to do.”

“I love you,” he mumbled into my hair.

“I love you, too,” I replied. “But please don’t get snot in my hair.”

He started laughing, which turned into another coughing fit. I patted his back and handed him a cough drop from my pocket. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said when he stopped coughing. “Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

“It’s my job,” I said. He raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s in the fiancé job description. Section fourteen, paragraph five. ‘Take care of him when he’s sick, even if he acts like a giant baby.’”

“Very funny,” he said. “Now, what does it say in that job description about doing my laundry?”

I sighed. It was going to be a long week. 

**************************************************

“How the hell is it already February 18th?” Dieter was feeling better and was catching up on emails. 

“Well, first it was February 1st, and then days went by …”

He gave me the stink-eye. “Ha ha, very funny,” he said. “I missed Valentine’s Day. I had stuff planned and everything.”

“It’s no big deal,” I told him. “Valentine’s Day is a very overrated holiday, anyway. To be honest, it was nice not to be surrounded by teenagers carrying around balloons and stuffed animals and all that stupid shit.”

“But it was our first Valentine’s Day together, and I missed it,” Dieter said. “That doesn’t bode well.” He frowned. 

“I don’t need chocolates or flowers or any of that stuff,” I reassured him. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. And we can do something special next year, if you want.” I was going through my own emails, which included several from Oladele offering suggestions for wedding venues. Without me even realizing it, she had been hired as my personal assistant and I already didn’t know what I would do without her. “Hey, speaking of flowers, do you think we need some for the wedding?” Oladele had gotten some quotes from florists.

“What? That’s months away,” Dieter said.

”June is only four months away and it’ll be here before we know it,” I replied. “We really need to sit down and go over things. Like where, when, and who’s invited. And flowers, food, cake …” I sighed. “Even for a low key wedding, there’s a lot to think about.”

Dieter waved his hand in the air. “Get some roses, a cake with white frosting, a few bottles of champagne and sparkling cider … boom! A wedding.”

”You’re no help.”

”My head’s still full of mucus and shit,” he said. “Give me a couple of days and then we’ll sit down and go over stuff.” I could tell he was getting tired and grumpy and I cut him some slack. I knew from experience that the flu took a lot out of you.

**************************************************

Two days later, I went grocery shopping. Dieter’s appetite had come back and we were completely out of snacks. When I got home, I opened the front door to the scent of roses. “What the hell? Dieter, can I get some help with the groceries?”

There was no reply and I stepped further in. There were bouquets of roses all over the living room, dozens and dozens of roses: red, white, pink, and silver, in glass vases tied with ribbons. A large heart shaped box of chocolates was in the center of the coffee table, next to a teddy bear holding a red velvet heart that read “I ❤️U.”

”Dieter!” I yelled. “Where are you and why did a drug store Valentine’s aisle throw up in our living room?”

He appeared in the doorway, wearing a red satin robe over black silk pajamas. “I told you I had plans,” he said, batting his eyelashes at me.

”Well, can we get the groceries in and put away first?”

He sighed and stumbled off to find his Crocs. “You have no sense of romance,” he grumped.

Once we’d fetched the food and put everything away, I let Dieter lead me back to the living room. “Have a seat, my sweet,” he said, with a deep bow. He pulled a fancy box from underneath the couch and placed it in my lap. I untied the red velvet ribbon and opened the box to reveal a lacy black silk nightgown and red satin robe that matched his. “You go change into that,” he said, “and I’ll get the rest of your surprise ready.”

I normally preferred cotton night clothes but the feel of the silk and satin against my skin was sensual. Not exactly something I’d want to wear all night, but it definitely set the stage for sexy times. So I was truly surprised when I went back into the living room and found Dieter with his glasses on and a notebook in his hand.

”What’s going on?”

”I am about to do the most romantic thing any man has ever done,” he said dramatically. He picked up the remote. “I’m going to turn off the television and give you my undivided attention and we are going to plan our wedding.” He nodded toward the coffee table, where both of our iPads were turned on and nestled amongst a selection of brochures. “Oladele sent me all her stuff.”

I sank onto the couch. “You never cease to amaze me, Dieter Fucking Bravo.” 

“We’ll get to that part later,” he said with a wink. “Right now, let’s plan a wedding.”

Two hours — and a bag of chips and several of the chocolates from the fancy box — later, we had a rough plan. A secular ceremony on the beach, small reception with finger foods and cake, not too many flowers (because of the wind off the ocean). Freddy would be his best man and Sam would be my maid of honor. We even narrowed it down to three venues: a public beach that had an area that could be reserved for private functions, a private beach that could be rented for a hefty fee but included catering, and the backyard of a producer friend of Dieter’s, which backed onto a private beach.

”Okay, so guest list,” I said, scanning the checklist that Oladele had sent us. “Freddy, Leila and the kids, that’s four. And Sam, her husband and kids, that’s another five, so we’re up to nine.”

”Dominic and his family,” Dieter said. “That brings us to thirteen. Oh, and Oladele. That’s fourteen.”

”Carmen,” I said. “That’s fifteen.”

Dieter named a few other people from “the business” which brought our total up to twenty three. “How about your family? Just your aunt and uncle or do we have to invite all the cousins, too?”

”Just Aunt Helen and Uncle Jeremiah,” I said. “We’ll put them up at a fancy hotel, just to make her squirm a little.” I laughed. “Actually, I think she’ll enjoy it. I don’t think they’ve had a real vacation, just the two of them, in forever.”

Dieter nodded. “That’s twenty five. That’s a good number, unless you want to invite anyone from your old job?”

”Don’t forget your dad,” I added. “That makes twenty six.” Dieter made a face. “Look, I know you aren’t on the best of terms with him but there is no way he’s not coming to our wedding. Between the two of us we only have one parent living, and he has to be there.”

Dieter pursed his lips. “It’ll be twenty seven if he comes,” he said tersely, “because he’ll bring her.”

”Her?”

”His wife.”

“I didn’t know you had a stepmother.”

”She’s not my stepmother,” Dieter said fiercely. “She’s his wife.”

”Sorry. Is she that bad?”

He shook his head and sighed. “No, actually, she’s pretty great. Just a normal, nice lady who loves him and …” He closed his eyes. “Freddy’s kids call her Grandma. Which is fine. It’s just …”

”I get it,” I said, taking his hand in mine. I never stopped being amazed at how big his hands were. Dieter was a big man, strong — and very fragile. “I wish your mom could be there. My parents, too. They would have loved you.”

He lifted my hand to his lips. “I wish I could have met them. And my mom — I know she was problematic. I know she was selfish and Dad was better off after she left but damn it, I loved her so much.”

I let him cry against my shoulder. “I know. I know. She was your mom.” I rubbed his back and waited until he was able to compose himself. He sat back, his eyes red and his nose streaming snot. I handed him a tissue from the box that was still on the coffee table from his cold.

He blew his nose and wiped his face. “Probably not the best time to try to seduce you, huh?” His smile was tentative, but it was genuine.

”Actually, I kind of like the blotchy-faced, snot-nosed look,” I said. I shoved his notebook away and straddled his lap. With only two thin layers of silk between us, I could feel every inch of his body beneath me.

”Good, ‘cause it’s my signature look,” he said, his hands sliding down to grip my hips.

And that was the end of wedding planning for the time being. After all, June was months and months away.

[themultifandomgal]

Tommy Shelby- A Mothers Passing

Trigger Warning- illnesses, death

I was 19 years old when my father passed away during the war. Mother never found love again and so never remarried. I however found love after stepping foot into the Garrison that night wanting to drink myself into forgetting the last 4 years. That's where I saw him, Tommy Shelby still in his uniform. I knew the Shelby brothers only being a few years older than John, but I had never seen any of them in more than a friendly way. That is until that night.

Mine and Tommys relationship was a whirlwind having got pregnant before marriage we married rather quickly. Now I'm 27, our son 3 and we are more in love than we ever thought was possible.

"Mrs Shelby, I'm sorry to bother you, but there is a woman on the phone asking for you"

"Oh thank you Mary" I get up off the floor with Charlie and head to the telephone

"Hello, Mrs Shelby speaking"

"Mrs Shelby, I'm nurse Lee"

"Nurse?" I frown feeling confused "I haven't been to the doctors since being present"

"My apologies, I'm your mothers nurse"

"My mother? what's wrong?"

"Unfortunately your mother has been ill for some time now"

"Ill? why wasn't I informed of any of this?"

"Your mothers wishes"

"What is it?" I sigh feeling tears start to prick my eyes

"Pneumonia I'm afraid. Mrs Shelby is there any chance you could come and visit?" Tommy walks in and immediately I turn around so he can't see my sad face

"Yes of course. I'll be there as soon as I can" I put the phone down and wipe the tears that have escaped

"Who was that love?" Tommy asks wrapping his arms around me

"My mums nurse. She's ill Tom, really ill. I need to go and see her"

"Ok. I'll drive you, we'll drop Charlie off at Polly's first" nodding my head Tommy gets Charlie ready.

Nervously I enter my childhood house holding on to Tommys hand. We walk up the stairs and enter her bedroom

"Ah Mrs Shelby your here. Mabel YN's here" the nurse tells mum who looks as pale as a ghost

"Hi mum"

"Hello dear" mum croaks instantly breaking my heart. I sit in the chair next to her taking her hand

"Mum you remember Tommy"

"Of course I do. Where's my grandson?" she asks

"He's with Polly. I didn't know if I should bring him or not" I tell mum truthfully

"I'd like to see him before I die"

"No mum don't..." I shake my head not wanting to hear any of this

"YN. I'm dying. I'm not getting any better. So please before I die I want to see my grandson"

"Ok" I breath out.

The following day Tommy and I take Charlie to see my mum one last time and then 3 days later I get a phone call to tell my that she had passed away peacefully in her sleep.

We just had the funeral 2 days ago now I'm sat in the doctors office being told that I'm pregnant again

"Ok Mrs Shelby, just like last time take things easy and make sure Mr Shelby is helping around the house"

"We have maids now so things will be easier" I tell the doctor

"Ok good. I'll see you in 3 weeks for a follow up appointment and the see if we can hear babies heart"

"Ok. Thank you" I stand up taking my bag and coat with me. I walk outside and see Tommy leaning on the wall with a cigarette while watching Charlie playing with a puppy "hey" I say walking up to him

"So was I right?" he asks with a smirk

"Yes. You were right" I reluctantly tell him. He takes my hand and we walk over to Charlie "come on Charlie time to go"

"Ok bye bye" Charlie kisses the puppy's head then takes my hand "the nice lady let me stroke her puppy. His name is whiskey"

"Did your dad name it by any chance"

"No mummy don't be silly" the little boy laughs.

Arriving home Charlie runs off to the play room while Tommy and I walk over to his office

"If the baby is a girl, I want to name her Anna Mabel" Tommy looks at me wide eyed

"You want to name her after our mothers?" I nod my head in reply "well I think it's a beautiful idea, but why my mothers name first?"

"Because i wouldn't let you name Charlie Tommy, or Arthur, or John, or..."

"Ok ok I get it. Thank you love" tommy walks over to me and pulls me into his arms

"I love you Tom"

"And I love you" I smile up at him.

[the-trapper-talks]

The Trapper's Past.

TW: This section contains the following. Transphobia, Homophobia, Racism, Sexism, SA, P3d0philia, Abuse in general, gore, amputation, loss of sanity, forced drugging.

Born on June 26th of 1931, Angel Reyes was the first of three sisters. He lived a good life with his mother, who was never quite right in the mind but always took care of him. He was a sweet girl, a momma's girl who loved the lullabies and silly faces his mother would make.

On an unfortunate day in 1939, Angel's biological father found where his mother and sisters had been hiding. During an argument, his father shot and killed his mother, taking him and his sisters away from El Banco and to the capital city, Bogota.

Here, Angel and his sisters were treated as nothing but maids for their father, who was quick to put Angel into the world of prostitution at the young age of 14. He was a young girl with big eyes and pretty long hair, and his father needed the money.

Years of this went by, of constant use and abuse from his own father and people he didn't know. During these years, Angel felt something was wrong with him. He didn't stare in the mirror when undressed, and frowned when looking at pale shaved skin molded into the hands of his father.

He didn't feel like the girl his father was putting out as a purchasable item. No, he felt like a boy. And that scared him.

He put off this feeling for years, until he was 21 and people started to become uniterested in a proper, adult woman. Angel sat alone in his rooms most days, just waiting for the next person to come in and do the same thing everyone else did.

He couldn't handle this. He couldn't handle the bitter term of "lady" and "girl" when people carded their fingers through his hair and smoothed their palms over his body.

He couldn't handle it anymore.

One night, sick and tired of this treatment, he grabbed the nearest pair of scissors and chopped off his hair. There, that was the look he liked. The short hair, and slightly stubbled cheeks that his father hated. That was him.

And so he ran. He ran as far as he could, wherever his legs would take him. And when he felt like he couldn't run anymore, he ran anyway.

Unfortunately along the way, while resting in a cabin he presumed belonged to no one in the middle of nowhere, a group of men came along.

Hours of torture ensured, tied up and gagged and drugged. And when they were done, they grabbed the axe laying against the wall. Angel's leg was hacked off, messy cuts and swings down into his thigh to sever his knee off from the rest of his bone.

And that's when it hit him. That sense of panic, of adrenaline in his body. Of sudden strength and numbness in his body as he screamed out.

Bodies laid all around him, blood smeared all over the wooden floor of the shed as Angel felt his body quiver and shake. He leaned against one of the walls, sliding down it. He tore a shirt from one of the bodies, pressing it into the protruding bone and flesh of his thigh and tying it with a dirty rope.

He couldn't run away anymore.

And so he stayed there, in that cabin that he now called home. He took the traps from the walls, learned how they worked, and used them to do his needed killing for him while he recovered from his amputation.

He lived in that cabin for almost two decades, now 37 years old and alone in the middle of the woods. Unfortunately, he was found by a strange woman in purple who questioned the now crazed man she had almost died to at the entry. And she did the one thing he'd never expect.

She offered him a job.

A job? He could use a job... a job was good. And after inquiring about the pay, he almost dropped the shotgun still tightly grasped in his hands. Angel couldn't believe what he was hearing. All he had to do was bring the traps he had used for years, and kill people with them? This was too easy.

Too easy indeed. Angel demanded for additional pay, in the form of a medication treatment he had heard of many years ago and a surgery to rid himself of the pesky fat on his chest. Surprisingly, the woman agreed.

They sat together a few weeks later, reading over a contract that he sloppily signed as soon as the last word was uttered. As his pen hit the table, his vision went black.

Angel was out for a month... or was it two? He awoke bare on a cold table, his body feeling strangely different with his heart pounding at his ears. An accented voice came from beside him, blabbering on almost psychotically as cold rubber-clad hands felt over his skin and patted his chest with an eerily wide smile.

Panicked, he quickly stood to get away, only to unfortunately fall onto cold concrete ground. This strange doctor paid his clumsiness no mind, still somehow talking as he was dragged over to a mirror and felt over his chest and face like some sort of classroom skeleton model.

But he didn't pull away this time. Not as he stared into the mirror. Jagged and ugly scars splattered over the underside of his... pectorals? A numb hand came up to his face, feeling the prickle of facial hair over his jaw and upper lip. This was incredible! He looked like a man! A real man! He couldn't give a damn if a certain part of biology wasn't between his legs. Hell, he looked like a man!

Another man was called in after he was dressed and a little more conscious, holding what seemed to be a leg made out of metal and wires. A prosthetic too? One fitted to his body exactly how it should be and strong enough that it would practically never be damaged? Hell, he was loving this job already!

And then... a cup full of pills. The strange doctor stated that it would help him with all those pesky thoughts in that little head of his. So, he took them, already having been gifted a new body he loved. Surely, this medication would be good for him too.

He was taken to a room he could call his own after taking his new medication, being allowed a week to get accustomed to this medication and walking properly before being put onto the battlefield with men he would meet as the week continued.

Angel didn't know when it happened, when the dark corners of his eyes began to take shape into shadowy figures and fast moving flashes. He didn't know when his heart had begun to start picking up it's pace, pumping unecessary blood into his brain and firing up his nerves and panic and adrenaline.

By the end of that week, he was too scared to even step outside his room without a shotgun or pistol in hand. Angel- no, the Trapper, quivered with every step, trying to ignore the whispers in his ears and figures in the corners of his eyes who followed him wherever he went.

And gods, how incredibly did that panic and paranoia have him acting on the field. Sure, he was scared out of him mind, on the verge of passing out as he fired round after round into people who looked an awful lot like his teammates. But he was doing exactly what that damn contract had asked of him.

He asked to quit, to take all this back and let him free.

But he had been given too much. Too much treatment, too much alteration. He was in their debt. And Mann Co wouldn't have it any other way.

// I got lazy on this I apologize if it's not the best written.

[atomicmonkey1122]

Pretty good list! It looks like we have almost opposite tastes though lol

Now I feel like doing my own ranking :)

I started One Piece under a year ago and have juuust started Wano btw. (There will be early Wano spoilers) And I agree that all the strawhats are cool :)

10. (Disqualified?) Jinbe. Sorry. He was cool in the Fishman Island Arc and WCI but I haven't really seen much of him As Part of the Crew yet. Which is why he might be disqualified? Not sure.

Spots 9-6 were really hard to decide but I think its going to be

9. Franky. Still cool(SUPER) AND i also appreciate his take on masculinity and sensitivity. But idk I just don't have strong opinions about him. Solid character tho.

8. Zoro. Or mayne he'd switch with 7 im not sure. But Idk I've never been super into the Stoic Badass types. But he does have a splash of himbo energy, with being dumb and getting lost. I also love the Sanji rivalry lmao

7. Chopper. Hes just so cute and smart and wants to help :)

6. Brook. I love all his shitty jokes about being dead or not having eyes or skin or whatever. Probably my choice of funniest character. I also like that hes a musician. I've never played a violin or piano but I was a band kid and love characters that can play an instrument. Also he can be badass when necessary(and when not asking to see panties 🙄)

5. Luffy. He is just the goodest boy. He cares so much about his crew 🥺 I love how determined he is whenever he wants to do something. And I love that he can just be a silly lil guy outside of battles. I'm currently on the part where Luffy thinks Kaido killed his+Law's whole crews and he is PISSED

4/3. I think I'm going to say these next two are tied. But first I'll talk about Robin. She's really cool and I LOVE her arc in Water 7/ Enies Lobby. I like that she's an academic, into history and archaeology and the poneglyphs. I also LOVE her deadpan morbid moments like "if we end up in the stomach we'll be dissolved by the stomach acid :)"

3/4. Sanji. Before I started watching, I thought he had the coolest design of all the Strawhats. He was good in Baratie and I loved that he was willing to feed a potential enemy because even enemies need food. And his first backstory 🥺 But yeah his schtick got old really quick. It was tolerable before the timeskip but after? Ugh. Get this guy off my screen.

And then WCI happened. And it hurt (in a good way) and I just. I love when a normally strong character BREAKS and we got a lot of that in this arc. We got to see that even though he acts like he only cares about pretty girls, he actually does care a lot about the crew and Zeff. He learned the exploding handcuffs were fake but was willing to let himself be killed at the wedding to protect Zeff and the crew. Even though his father and brothers were horrible to him and that one maid and Reiju and others, he didn't want to just abandon them to die. MY HEART

I think if it weren't for him being Like That around women, he'd 1000% be my favorite character. I was REALLY hoping WCI would change him a bit but so far there's not a huge difference. Regardless, I love Sanji as a character even if I am SO annoyed by him sometimes.

2. Aaanyways, back on track. 2 is Usopp. Yeah he's a bit whiny and scared of things but he still does stuff. He just does it scared. That sounds pretty brave to me. He just lacks confidence, except when making shit up. But he's an incredible sniper, some of those long range battles, they'd be fucked without Usopp. I think its hilarious he keeps falling into grand titles, like Sniper King and GOD Usopp. Partially because of his lies, partially because he's just in the right place at the right time. He's kind of a jack of all trades. He can do a bit of art, gardening, he TRIED to keep up with maintenance on the Merry. Also I like the idea of him and Nami being a snarky gossip duo.

1. Nami! She's been my fave ever since Arlong Park. When she was finally willing to let go of her pride and ask Luffy for help. But she's also very smart and cool. I like how she's interested in science and is able to use it as a weapon with her weather staff. I also just think its funny when she charges her crewmates for certain things. Also she's willing to punch Sanji when he's Like That. And the others when they're being dumb. Sometimes violence is the answer when you're a pirate 🤷‍♀️ the true definition of gaslight gatekepp girlboss, and we love her for it.

TIER LIST

C: Jinbe*, Franky

B: Zoro, Chopper,

A: Brook, Luffy, Robin, Sanji

S:Usopp, Nami

I wanna start doing lists/rankings. I doubt anyone will wanna see them, but it's for me, so that's fine.

If anyone does wanna see. Some might have spoilers (like this one), so look out for that.

Anywhoo...

MY TOP 10 FAVORITE STRAWHATS

10 Sanji. I don't hate Sanji per se, as whenever he's not being weird around women, I actually like him. The problem is when he's around women. I don't like it. Stop it. Stahp. That being said at least he's cool when he's not around women and his genuine relationships with his crew and Zeff make me happy. I love his rivalry with Zoro

9. Usopp. Oh boy. I HATED him as a kid. I'm still not the biggest fan of him now, either. But he's... fine, and at least he gets better as the show progresses. He does get braver and less cowardly. But I still hate how much of a wuss and braggart he is. Also... his luck annoys me at times, but at least it comes in handy

8. Chopper. He was once one of my favorite straw hats, but as I got older, his naivity and gullibility started inking me. His "We need a doctor " joke was never funny to me either. He's still AWESOME. Don't get me wrong, all the straw hats are. I know my complaints about Usopp and Sanji may make anyone think i think otherwise, but i do geniounly like all the starw hats as characters. But those irks about Chopper are why he's so low. That being said, he's still a great character, and I love how compassionate he is about being a doctor. He's also adorable. I want to hug him.

7. Luffy. He's awesome! I just like the others more, sorry Luffy...I truly hate to put you this low. He's everything I love in an anime protagonist. Stubborn, brave, determined to protect those he loves. He can be smart when he needs to be and is so dang cool. Luffy is one of the best anime protagonists of all time, and I can't wait for him to be king.

6. Zoro. I love that he's not just a badass. He's also kinda dumb, and it makes him more endearing. But he's also still badass and super loyal. Amazing character, feck yeah. His directions gag is pretty funny, too. I also love the idea of three sword styles, and he actually makes it super cool.

5. Franky. Reverse chopper, he used to be one of my least favorites. But my God is he so FUNNY. He is easily the funniest character, in my opinion. He's also super epic, and I love his take on masculinity and how sensitive he is. I will say, tho...not a big fan of his redesign. I also love that he refuses to wear pants. Overall, great character.

4. Nami. She is so awesome. From day one, she was epic and I love that for the most part, she isn't a Damsel in distress. Her take on Fishmen despite what happened to her makes me respect the hell out of her. She's so strong and brave and even kind. She may be greedy, but it makes a lot of sense. Easily one of the best characters.

3. Brook. Look...I may not like his panty thing, but at least it's over fast and isn't as cringy as Sanji's thing. That being said... I admit I'm biased. I tend to like skeleton characters because I think they're cool. And well...Brook is no exception. He's a gentleman, a musician, and has skull jokes! There's so much to like about him!

2. Robin. She's my 2nd favorite character in the whole show. She's so intelligent and mysterious and super freaking cool! I love how she slowly starts to trust the straw hats and build bonds with them. Her character arc is my favorite in the entire show. I cannot stress how much I ADORE her. Amazing character. I will fight anyone on this.

1. Jinbe. Best character in the show, but it's close between him and Robin. Again,... some bias, as I think he's attractive. But I genuinely like him as a character, too. Fishmen are my favorite species in one piece, and I tend to like tackles of racism in media as a species. I liked this about the faunus in RWBY, too. Jinbe is a badass. He's funny and oh so huggable. Oh, and I love how he acts like a gentleman. So polite and well spoken. He's just...so damn cool, too. Love him. I love him so much

TIER LIST TIME

C Tier, lowest to highest: Sanji, Usopp, Chopper

B Tier: Luffy, Zoro, Franky

A Tier: Nami, Brook

S Tier: Robin, Jinbe

[genshingarbage]

Could I request any boys of your choice where they’ve had an exhausting day and their s/o says they should take a nap on their lap? Thank you!

Cute boi hours again? Yes <3 Sleepy time awe! I am gonna pick a very select few that i think this works well with, so i hope you're okay with the hand picked few ;) - Mod Diluc

Rest My Love.

|| Head Cannons ||

Kazuha/Diluc/Xiao/Kaeya

Kazuha

He was beat, exhausted and aching, every muscle in his body ached like something fierce. But, who ever said the life of a lone wandering samurai was gonna be a breeze? Yea, that's right- no one. Because it sure as hell wasn't. He was use to feeling this way yet somehow it still made him just as grouchy as the first time.

He walked into the small building that was titled as your homestead and yawned; stretching his arms out he heard a few odd bones pop from the pressure, it relieved some of his tension but not nearly enough for it to be actually satisfying. With a huff he removed some of his more heavy going clothing, including his shoes, till he was more loose and relaxed.

He shuffled slowly into the house, trying not to wake you. You were his lover and so him coming to your home was somewhat normal now, but he often was away for large periods of time, and he never liked to disturb you. Specially when you're busy. Which you were, you had your nose deep between the pages of a gripping story written so entrancing like from a book. So much for his first theory that you'd be asleep at this time, huh?

He tried to creep past you as you read, but you wasn't born yesterday. So with a roll of your eyes and a soft exhale from your nose you spoke out. "Kazuha. Welcome home hun." You didn't even bother to turn your head around to him, you knew fully well he was frozen in his steps now, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. He blinked a few times before sorting himself back to his normal standing position and chuckling awkwardly, a breif rub to the back of his neck ensued.

"Ah, yea, I'm uh- yea. I'm home, thanks Y/N. I really didn't wanna disturb you there." He spoke softly and with great regret; like he'd just committed an awful crime. You simply closed the book after having bent the tip of the page you were on, as to know where to start off when you return to it, and placed the item down on the small table infront of your sofa. "Kazuha, it's fine... I was only reading a book." You chuckled gently.

"I know, but... it felt wrong to interupt you so abruptly specially when you seemed so into it-" you'd twisted your torso ever so slightly so your eyes could lay on his now, your heart almost broke, he looked absolutely shattered- like all life was drained from him. Just what had this crazy man gotten up to in his absence? "Kazuha- oh my goodness. Look at you! You're about to pass out."

He smiled politely and waved his hand side to side as if dusting your worry back into the wind. "Nah, I'm a lil tired that's all. I'm gonna have a lie down, I'll be right as rain after." He went to go back to making his way to the exit of your living room, that is until you called out ever so gently. "Or well, I wouldn't mind if you rested your head on my lap." A faint blush flushed your cheeks. He turned to face you yet again. Blinking several times over again.

"Really?" He tilted his head almost like a curious puppy, he has no idea how cute he is sometimes. "I mean, sure why not? You've not been home for over a month. I do get lonely ya know, the company would feel nice, and your presence is always warm and welcoming." You smiled sweetly at him and he returned the expression with full earnest. Nodding softly he made his way to the sofa, where you rested, and now reshuffled and organised yourself to get into a more comfy position.

It wasn't long before he was laying on his side with his head nestled into your lap, breathing softly as your hand gently rested adorn his head of hair. "Mmh. You're right, this beats sleeping alone any day." He hummed sleepily to you, by the way his voice was giving out you could tell he was close to succumbing to his slumber already. With a gentle smile still planted across your lips you hushed him softly.

"Shh, rest now. My Kazuha." You began to hum a quaint little lullaby that had him snoring in under three minutes. This man, he works himself so hard, but still, it's one of the reasons you love him so much, the fact he's hard working and never gives in. And you have the comfort in your mind of knowing whenever he gets this tired again, he'll have you here to be by his peaceful sleeping side everytime. Now and forever.

Diluc

The sky was a beautiful orange and red tone, the colours mixed so beautifully, with the white fluffy clouds scattered around too, it looked like a stunning evening. You were sat alone at the dinner table again, your chin resting on your opened palm, your eyelids half shut to block the rays of the last bit of presence from the sun.

The candles had long since burned out and the beautiful sweet honeyed roast you'd prepare with such delicacy and tender care was going cold. Diluc was suppose to be home over thirty-five minutes ago, he promised he'd make it in time for whatever dinner the maids threw together tonight, he wasn't aware you'd taken it upon yourself to lovingly prepare tonight's meal for him.

You couldn't be mad at the man; or hold a grudge for that matter, you knew what type of person he was, you knew he wasn't one for sticking to plans and promises, he simply couldn't be with the work he has, not to mention his little sun down hobby that you became privy too after several years with the crimson haired gentleman. If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was the fact you knew without doubt he truly did love you. And in a way that was enough for you.

It was sundown now and your dinner had long been since tidied up by the maids, with a somewhat solemn look to your face you'd decided to go to bed early that night. Knowing Diluc, he wouldn't be home for hours to come anyway. Your eyes were just starting ache and your eyelids were starting to feel heavy for you now. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth softly you let your body sink further into the warm embracing sheets.

Click.

Your eyes slowly opened back up when you heard the all too familiar noise of your bedroom door opening, narrowing your eyes slightly to help adjust to the dim glow of the room, the small aid of illumination being provided solely by your nightstand candle. It wasn't hard to make out who it was however, since his deep red hair practically danced from the slight glow of the flicking flame.

"Diluc." It came out more like a whisper which you never intended for it too, but you were so gripped by tiredness now it was hard to sound more awake at the given circumstances. "Sorry for waking you my dear, wasn't my intention." You hummed softly in response and then watched as best as you could as he removed his attire and shoes, stripping down to just his boxers.

Gripping the band that kept his hair up was the last part, with a tug his hair flew down and waved apart, you kept a watchful eye on him. As it was when his hair was down that he was always at his most tired and vulnerable mental state now. "The maids told me Y/N." He still sounded strict, or at least he was trying his best too. But his voice wavered in every sense of the word.

The bed dipped beside you as his weight was added to the mattress now, a small groan escaping his lips. You knew what he meant, it wasn't a surprise the maids told him you'd prepared the dinner today, you'd just wish they'd not sometimes, to avoid adding more stress to the man's poor ordeals. "It's fine, it was just a small attempt. I'm not exactly the best cook to begin wit-"

The poorly sounding wince from him cut you off, the failed attempt to stifle it and keep it under wraps didn't go unnoticed. You narrowed your eyes at the man beside you in bed now, and then you saw. He was littered with cuts and bruises, they surely must hurt, why didn't he say anything? Scratch that. He never tells you anyway, thinking its better that way. Silly man.

With a gentle huff you shook your head, shuffling your weight and sitting up ever so slightly, your back pressing against the several puffed pillows under you. "Enough of that. Come here darling." It was your turn to sound strict however, and for once he didn't fight back. Your heart tugged at you slightly as you felt the weight shifting around beside you and then were suddenly graced with the feeling of his head nuzzling into your lap.

You took it upon yourself to softly begin to caress his head, letting your hand stroke and massage the man's hair and scalp. The groans and sighs that left him were evidence enough he was in a blissful state right now, your sweet Diluc. Always putting his life on the line to protect those less fortunate than him, when will he learn? That his life matters just as much. Sigh.

You heard a soft mutter from him, something along the lines of 'sorry' and 'dinner'. But he was already taken by the nights calming embrace to be formulating anything coherent now, so you closed your eyes with another soft shake of your head and continued to massage his head. Till both you and your hand laid still, silent, asleep. Whatever he'd done tonight, whatever reason he'd missed dinner, it didn't matter. As long as he loved you it was enough. It always has been, it always will be.

Xiao

The stars twinkled softly an slowly, looking so entrancing from down below, the dark blue sky washing above you with the dazzling twinkles looking like small fire flies dancing around. You stood there, your knee bent slightly as your weight was supported by the banister of the top balcony to Wangshu Inn. Any minute now, you thought to yourself calmly.

And is if on que a sudden and harsh breeze blew past you, followed up with a loud thud. You turned your head ever so slightly, seeing the young looking yaksha lifting back up from his crouch landing position. "Welcome home honey." you said somewhat stone like, to which you got a simple sounding 'Tsk' as response, as he chucked his spear lazily behind him, to which it dissolved away instantly.

You rolled your eyes to the quiet scoff that greeted you back, shaking your head slowly, your eyes went back to focus on the landscape below you from the viewpoint of the balcony. It was so peaceful and beautiful. "How has your day been?" You decided to question him further, all while remaining your focus elsewhere.

"Fine." he responded in short. This type of reply was normal to you now, he wasn't the talkative type, despite having been the first to say to you he loved you. "Well, that's good then." you said back in your normal sweet tone now. You could tell from that tone in his voice he was exhausted, he didn't have to say or do anything, you could just tell.

Thinking it was best to leave now and give him his privacy you turned away from the balcony and began to walk to the exit. "I will let you rest my love, see you soo-"

"Wait."

His voice was louder than its ever been round you, the faint flush on his cheeks was evidence enough he never intended for it to come out so loudly from his own mouth. "Xiao?" you turned back round, seeing him stood there looking like a somewhat lost lamb, it was damn cute.

"S...stay with me, ... please."

His voice, so soft, so sweet, so gentle. You felt your heart crack slightly, your poor adeptus, he must've been rushed off his feet tonight. The dark bags forming under his eyes said all you needed to hear.

Chewing your bottom lip softly you breathed in and then walked over to him slowly. "Xiao..." you whispered his name lovingly, his eyes met with yours and for a brief moment the air left your lungs, the sight of his exhausted face so close to you, actively seeking comfort within you, it was enough to melt the coldest of icebergs.

Letting your hand slip into his with a gentle squeeze, a small smile on your lips you led him down the stairs of the Inn, into your bedroom, a tidy and quaint little sleeping quarter. He needed to rest, he is pushing himself too much, and if you do not take action, he never will.

Climbing onto the bed once you'd abandoned your shoes on the carpet you looked up at him, laying in a relaxing position. The red on his cheeks only flushed deeper and darker, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. Such a lewd mind, oh my, you never expected him to get the wrong idea over a situation like this.

"Xiao- no... not that." you chuckled at his confused expression, he was so alien to the concept of just touch in general now, that to him he sees it so black and white, being close means being intimate, otherwise why get close? So it was up to you to show him the ways of being human again.

You let your hand softly pet and stroke your lap and he raised his brow, but seeing the sudden light in his eyes spark showed you he caught on to what you really were aiming for. So he hesitantly dipped onto the bed next to you, he was tense and his movements were awkward, but he eventually shuffled his head and body to lay down with his head nestled softly into your lap.

"Is this... okay?" he muttered it nervously, like he was scared the slightest movement would shatter everything around him. You looked down at him and gently kissed your fingers, pressing them against his lips in response. "Shh, rest my love, you need it." Just to further add to what you were saying you let your hand gently rub the outer ridge of his ear.

The blush eventually left his cheeks, the tensed muscles finally went lax and his breathing grew heavier and more unguarded, with a pleased hum from your lips you closed your eyes too and began to succumb to the sweet calling of slumber too.

As long as he has you, you will always be there to help[ him, he may be an adeptus, a yaksha, but you? He is just as human as you or anyone else. Wrath filled or not. He is and always will be your sweet little adeptus. Your perfect lover. Your Xiao.

Kaeya

Another late night and you sat cuddled up on the sofa scanning through several paintings, more specifically paintings that you had done over the course of several months. It was a hobby of yours, but with the aid of Albedo giving you tips and throwing you pointers here and there you'd become surprisingly good at it; who would've guessed you'd secretly be an artist in hiding? Not you that's for sure.

It was fun enough to help tide over the unsettling impatience that always started to bubble under your skin at least, specially on nights like this, where Kaeya, your boyfriend, who also happened to be the Calvary Captain for the Knights of Favonius was out at an ungodly late time, dealing with a suspicion of criminal activities, within the borders of Mondstadt.

He never broke his promises to you thus far, of which were he will always return safely home to you, but it never did fully destroy the raging thunder of worry that often seized your mind on a daily, who could blame you? The man was always in such dangerous predicaments. Who knew if this morning, or any morning for that matter, where you kissed him goodbye, would be the last time you ever would see his face when you waved him off?

It isn't his fault you know this, but you do wish that sometimes he would be cut slack, just a little, so you could for once not have to distract yourself with idle glances of your paintings while waiting for his return. If only every now and then Jean, The Acting Grand Master would just let him have a day off-

Click.

You jumped slightly upon hearing the noise of your front door not open, but actually close. Turning your head you saw Kaeya stood there, arms covering his chest in a crossed way, a raised brow prominent as he glared down at you. "How long have you been worrying?" His voice sounded so flat and monotone, almost a hint of exhaustion. Was he growing tired of your over worried nature?

"I... uh. uhm..." You were at a loss for words, how long had you been worrying exactly? Two, three hours now? You were unsure of the answer yourself. He shook his head and sighed out slowly, it was long and drawn out; he must be so tired from his work today, seeing you up at this hour acting like a child probably doesn't help his situation in the least.

You looked down sadly, feeling ashamed and guilty of yourself because you do this oh so often to him, he always prays your in bed, safely tucked up and lost in your own dreams before he gets home, but you never are, you're always awake and worried, your face far from the peaceful look he often daydreams you having.

"It doesn't matter anymore my little petal." He hums softly as he walks around the sofa to get within arms reach, crouching onto his own weight to scoop you up, your mind in shock you let the paintings slip from your grip and pool around the seat you were just in and the floor underneath you. "Whe- Kaeya?"

"Shh, it is time to head to the bedroom." He spoke so matter factually, which left you eyes wide and beet red, to which he glanced down and a smug chuckle slipped from him. "For sleep Y/N." You relaxed instantly, a sigh escaping you. "Unless of course, you want the other thing?" You squirmed, embarrassed beyond belief, he loved to teased you. "Quit it Kaeya!" You pouted at him, to which he just chuckled at lightly, planting a soft kiss on your head.

Once in the bedroom he drops you so you fall and sink into the softness of your mattress and covers, to which he joins you quickly after. Now both in bed he simply huffs as he turns and crawls around before you feel his head find its preferred resting place; your lap. You smile and gently chuckle. "May i?" He asks just a tad bit too late for permission.

"You're already laying there Kaeya, bit late for the formalities now." You roll your eyes and turn to blow the candle out, leaving you both in darkness and silence, just your soft and gentle breathing in unison as you stroke and massage his head, to which he groans gently in delight too. He is so sweet when he sleeps on your lap like this, you feel closer to him now than you ever normally do, unless you involve the factor of intimacy sexually.

Its calming and sweet, and it helps you remember that he will always keep his promise to you,

He will always come home safely.

[realcube]

The Maid Café || Saiki K x Reader

summary: nendou and kaidou keep pestering saiki to visit their favourite maid café but he shuts them down every time. however, after a bit of prying they manage to convince him to give the place a try and while they are there, you just so happen to be on shift. 

tw// cussing, maid café, (she/her) reader

key:

“non italicised text” = somebody besides Saiki speaking

“italicised text” = Saiki telepathically communicating

‘italised text’ = Saiki’s thought

‘Of course Nendou and Kaidou would be into maid cafés of all things — not cat cafés, not internet cafés — it just had to be maid cafés.’  

Saiki’s internal monologue began as Kaidou continued gushing on about the cute lady he met at the café a few days ago as an argument to why Saiki should join them next time they go. Not to say Saiki wasn’t listening as he felt extremely sorry for whatever lady had to tolerate Kaidou’s advances and his prayer went out to her but besides that, he really couldn’t care less about the maids or the café. 

Until, his attention was involuntarily aroused at the vocalisation of his name from Nendou, “Saiki’s definitely in for Friday, I’m pretty sure I sold him when I told him that the sandwiches there are almost as good as the ramen we usually get.”

‘No, you didn’t. I won’t be coming to join you on Friday. I’d much rather stay--’ 

Somehow Kaidou managed to cut off Saiki’s internal monologue with his annoying voice, “Don’t be silly, Nendou. You’re not going to win Saiki over with such a ridiculous comparison, one that he clearly doesn’t care about.” 

‘Am I delusional? Is this a hallucination? Or did Kaidou just say something logical and based in reality?’

Kaidou’s aura immediately changed to dark and sinister as a mischievous smirk crossed his face, the background squawks of the crows suddenly became much louder for some unknown reason. “Instead, you must locate your opponent's weak point before you can recognise the crucially important moment to exploit it. The process takes patience but it is one I have learned from my many years rebelling against Dark Reunion. Now, young Nendou, watch and learn.” He finished with a dramatic flip of his school jacket which was slung over his shoulders as a cape.

‘What was all that about?’

Saiki wondered before Kaidou turned to him, much less brooding than he was a few seconds ago, and said casually, “Your loss if you don’t come, Saiki — you’ll be the one missing out on some of the best desserts in our whole town — not to mention the coffee jelly.”

✿✿✿✿✿

‘How do I always end up losing to these people? I am a psychic for god’s sake!’

Saiki mentally cursed himself out as he stood shamefully in front of the maid café, wearing a carefully curated outfit — including his germanium ring  — created especially to hide his identity from anyone from his school that might pass by the café and spot him in there through the window or something. Honestly, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a maid café, or so he thought.

However, all the reviews he read along with both Nendou and Kaidou’s thoughts helped him conclude that this place’s coffee jelly and general dessert selection is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, his favourite Tumblr blog - DeadlyDesserts11037 - visited the place and gave it a 5 star review, recommending everybody who happens to pass by the town to definitely check the place out. After that, he was sold.

Saiki looked over at his friends and couldn’t help but facepalm in response to their bright red, thrilled expressions. “Good grief, please don’t tell me you are both that excited over ladies in maid outfits.” As you might’ve guessed, Saiki didn’t really understand the concept of a ‘maid café’, so he simply assumed the male obsession with maids had something to do with the objectification of women hence he obviously did not want to take part.

“Saiki, you’re seriously just built different if this doesn’t touch your soul.” They both brushed the pink-haired boy’s comment off, completely mesmerised by the sight of a particularly pretty maid-lady walking by the window — probably on her way to serve a table — carrying a notepad in one hand and a plate with a scrumptious-looking coffee jelly on top. 

Saiki followed their gaze, his breath hitching at the sight. He was speechless; no sarcastic comment, no running commentary, nothing. Just..woah! If he had known that the girls that work at this place were so gorgeous and the food looked so delicious, he would’ve came a long time ago.

He wasn’t even sure which one he wanted more; the girl or the jelly. In a way, one wasn’t complete without the other because the coffee jelly which she held high next to her head brought out her (E/C) eyes while her shapely figure highlighted the defined curves of the jelly. Drool was quick to start forming at the corners of his lips but he was even quicker to wipe it away; he was starving.

“We’re going in.”

✿✿✿✿✿

To Saiki’s dismay, it was not the stunning (H/C)-haired girl who he had caught a glimpse of through the glass that ushered them to their table. Rather, it was a slightly less gorgeous maid-lady who had long, bright purple hair which was clearly a wig. 

Fortunately for him, after she left Kadiou, Nendou and himself to take their seats, she rushed off saying that someone will come take their orders whenever they are ready.

Even with his psychic abilities, there wasn’t much he could think of to alter fate so the pretty coffee-jelly lady would end up serving their table, and besides that, he was way too caught up in gawking at all the mouth-watering desserts they had pictured on the menu. 

Simply glancing over the menu brought a stupid grin to his face, he wanted to try every delectable treat presented in front of him. However, he knew he must exhibit restraint, which was fairly simple as he knew deep down there was only one thing on the menu that he was truly after. You guessed it  — coffee jelly.

Usually, he couldn’t care less about what his friends comrades were going to order but in this case, he was tempted to try convince both Kaidou and Nendou to order something he liked so he could take a bite of whatever they were having, “What are you two going to order?”

Yet again though, he was ignored as Nendou and Kaidou were both too busy checking out other types of snacks to care about the ones on the menu. 

Then, a movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention so his head jolted from the menu to his new target, the beautiful girl he had saw through the window earlier. Previously, she was holding a coffee jelly but now she was basically empty handed, until she approached the table and pulled out a notepad and pen, “May I take your orders?” She asked in the most calming, melodious voice Saiki had ever heard, the sounds that left her mouth were nothing short of angelic. Which made sense since her serving their table must’ve been god’s gift to Saiki for all his hard work.

Chills, Saiki got literal chills before he mused, “A coffee jelly, and two brownies for the pair of clowns.” His blood ran cold; curse his smooth sarcastic comments! Most of the time, he was able to filter himself but due to the nerves that arose while talking to you, he probably shouldn’t be surprised that he had a little slip of the tongue. But now, you probably think he is a bitch that insults people on the regular; which he is, but not usually aloud! Plus, he couldn’t even tell what you were thinking due to his germanium ring and your distant expression, awful combo!

While he was in the middle of feeling bad for himself and considering teleporting away home, a miracle happened, you burst out laughing. And somehow, your laughter was even more silvery than your voice. 

Saiki had zoned-out from pure shock for a moment before coming back to reality, noticing that you had started jotting down something in your notepad, a sweet smile still lingering on your face despite the fact you had stopped laughing. “Alright, so one coffee jelly and two brownies. Anything else?” You asked, glancing back and forth between the three equally unique and strange men sitting at the table. 

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Saiki telepathically communicated as he usually did, considering actually using his mouth to speak for a change so he didn’t seem weird but in all honesty, he couldn’t be bothered. In any other situation, he would’ve gotten a drink of water or perhaps hot cocoa but right now he was way too afraid of making another error in his speech to request something else. 

Silently, he extended his arm to hand you the menu he was given when he entered the café, along with the ones Kaidou and Nendou were given too. His actions single-handedly shooting down your plan of leaning across the table to ‘take the menus’ but in reality it is just a subtle way of showing-off how nice your torso looked in this maid outfit, a trick you learned from your supervisor. 

You nodded, closing over your notepad and making your way over to the kitchen, being sure to swing your hips just a little bit extra to impress the pink-haired megane at the table you just took an order from. You mentally cursed your stupid brain though for always crushing on guys/gals who don’t seem the least bit interested in you. In this case, the guy’s attention was divided between his star-struck friends and the desserts on the menu, rather than you which was an unusual sight in a maid café considering that most people would only come to ogle at the waitresses. 

✿✿✿✿✿

“So, Saiki.” Kaidou finally landed back into reality after a large chunk of the waitresses roaming around were now in the kitchen which he didn’t have viewing access to, “What did you order us?”

‘So, he was fully aware that the waitress came to take his order, he just chose to ignore her and left me to order his food. What a child, it must be a side-effect of his eighth grade syndrome.’

Saiki couldn’t help but sigh, “I ordered you both brownies.”

Kaidou stuck out his bottom lip to form a pout as he crossed his arm over his chest like a toddler, “I hate brownies.” He muttered to himself, realising that if he wanted something done right, he’d have to do it himself.

An amused smirk tugged at Saiki’s lips but he resisted the urge to laugh, ‘I know.’ He thought, his masterplan to eat more food without looking greedy falling into place. “Oh well, more for me then.”

Suddenly, Nendou spun his head around to abruptly join the conversation, “Hey guys, did you see the hottie that was serving our table?” He inquired with starry eyes, as if he was a kid in a candy store.

Saiki nodded, ‘Obviously I did, you moron. I was the one who ordered the food for goodness’ sake!’

Kaidou shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he leaned in close to Nendou, “Nope! I was busy looking at the other girls, but tell us!” 

Nendou chuckled at Kaidou’s enthusiastic reaction before glancing to the side, outstretching his arm and pointing at the waitress that was now approaching the table with the food in her hands. “There she is!”

‘Don’t point at her, you idiot!’ Saiki mentally insulted his friend but instinctively followed the guidance of the tip of his finger until his eyes landed on your shapely figure — accentuated by the nature of the maid outfit  — slowly heading toward his table, holding the coffee jelly and the plate of brownies in the same graceful way you did when he saw you through the window. 

The gleam of your gorgeous hair, the movement of your luscious lashes, the gentle bounce of your upper body, how your perfectly manicured nails clutched the base of the jelly glass; everything about what he was seeing made him believe that if/when he were to die, this would be his ideal first sight as he passed through the gates of heaven. 

Before he knew it, you had reached the table and placed his jelly down on the table, gently nudging it towards him, “One coffee jelly for the cute boy with antennas.” You mused, making Saiki’s heart flutter in a way he was unfamiliar with. Then, you placed the brownies in front of Kaidou and Nednou who sat opposite from Saiki, “And two brownies for the clowns.” 

If it wasn’t for the fact the pair of clowns were too busy leching over you in your maid outfit, they’d probably be curious as to your choice of words but luckily for both you and Saiki, they were way to entranced by your visible bra strap to care about the little nickname.

Saiki felt a light blush creep onto his face, which only got worse as you discretely sent him a playful wink before turning on your heels to stroll back to the kitchen, “If you need anything else, just give me a wave.” 

All of them hummed agreement in unison until the waitress was out of sight, giving Saiki a moment to process the events that had just went down. Not only did you refer to him as ‘the cute boy with antennas’ but you also winked at him, if that wasn’t a clear sign you were interested, what was? However, Saiki still had his doubts since this was a maid café after all, perhaps you were just trained to do that with all your customers.

Luckily, the had the foresight to slip off his germanium ring to read your mind and that helped him come to the conclusion that you were either interested in him or you were just very competitive as the whole time you were serving the table your thoughts were along the lines of;

‘I’ll adjust my skirt- Ha! You looked! Try resist falling for me now, you hot lil’ megane! Your heart is mine and I know it! See, I’ll fidget with my corset too-- just make a move already, pinkie!’

Although he didn’t appreciate being called ‘pinkie’, he had no right to judge what was going on in your brain. All he could do is be thankful that you didn’t say that aloud.

✿✿✿✿✿

You sighed as you noticed the pink-haired boy and his little posy exit the establishment without so much as a goodbye, or even a wave! 

It was disappointing as you had already mentally planned your future with this guy and he had the audacity to do the real life equivalent of leaving you on read. But oh well, it would be approximately a week until you developed a crush on a random customer that lasts for around 30 minutes and for the time being, you can focus on doing your job.

You glumly shuffled over to their table to gather their plates to be washed, then a piece of colourful paper attached to the empty jelly glass caught your eye. As you held up the glass to inspect it further, you realised that it was a sticky note with a message written on it in black ink and neat, cursive handwriting. It read:

‘Dearest waitress,

Thank you for the excellent service, we (myself) tipped accordingly.’

You hadn’t finished reading yet but you were curious as to what he meant by that, and apparently you service must’ve been exceptional as the writer had left a whole ¥2000 tip. That’s a huge addition to the demonia fund.  

Followed by this charming little message was an extra tip for you; the writer’s phone number! Meaning that this little sticky note was something you had to protect with your life..so you shoved it in your bra for safe-keeping. 

But not before taking a moment to giggle with delight at who the note was signed by, 

‘Sincerely, the hot lil’ megane (aka Kusuo Saiki)’ 

[goodboylupin]

While We’re Young

Remember that time I said I had a “fluffy lil thing I started for my first Candy Hearts Challenge prompt (GROOM) that I abandoned because it felt derivative of my own prior work, Young Heart Intertwined?” Well, I remembered that people (including me) will happily read 700 variations of the same coffee shop AU, so I decided I can write as many weddings as I want until I’m tired of them!! I now present another fluffy wedding fic. Consider this a second fill for GROOM, and if you received a Candy Hearts Challenge prompt you still haven’t filled, please don’t feel like it’s too late to do it! Thank you to @therealrjlupin for the beta help!

Sirius followed the stream of students spilling out the great doors and out onto the grounds of Hogwarts to enjoy the first warm days of a summer come early. He stepped off to the side, stopped and closed his eyes, tilting his face up to the sun and letting the cool breeze carry the scent of fresh cut grass to his nostrils.

Beside him, James continued to prattle on. “And I swear, Padfoot, the relationship might still be technically new, but I know I’m in love. But then, I suppose I’ve been in love with Lily for ages. I’m just sure of it now that I finally have her,” He paused. “I’m going to write to Mum and Dad tonight, ask them which ring I should give her.”

Sirius opened his eyes. “You what?”

“You’re right, if I know her well enough to propose, I know which ring she’d like best,” James nodded decisively. “The diamond and emerald band. The emeralds will match her eyes and diamonds are traditional for Muggle engagement rings.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sirius muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No, you’re Sirius!” James joked, but his silly grin faded quickly. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Sirius said mockingly. “Is that you’ve only been together for three months! Merlin’s sake, Prongs, I’ve been with Remus for two years and I can’t even imagine asking him to marry me. And you’re already picking out a family heirloom to stick on the girl’s finger?”

James, the berk, looked at Sirius like he was the crazy one. “You can’t even imagine asking Remus to marry you? You mean to tell me you’ve never so much as fantasised about your future wedding?”

“I fantasise about my boyfriend bent over a desk in a french maid’s uniform like normal people, not wearing dress robes in front of an altar.”

“I feel confident saying most people have never fantasised about Remus in the position you just described.”

“That’s only because most people have never met him and seen him with their own two eyes.”

“Sure, mate.” James rolled his eyes and turned around, ambling down a long, meandering path to the lake. “But really, do you not want to marry Remus?”

“I mean, maybe someday,” Sirius acquiesced. “But we’re still so young, James! We’ve got loads of time before we need to jump into anything. Why shouldn’t we live our lives first? Go to Muggle rock concerts and drink too much and enjoy ourselves before we settle down?”

“We are young,” James agreed. “But how can you be so sure we have time? There’s a war going on, Pads. And I want to do all the things I dreamed of doing as a boy, even if it’s on a compressed timeline; Lily feels the same. So yes, it might seem like rushing, but I plan to marry her, and hopefully have a sprog or five. And if I die young, at least I get to die as her husband.”

“Don’t say that, Prongs! We have to plan on fighting, winning, and living.”

“Plan on living, plan for dying,” James declared. “And is marrying Moony really a maybe to you? I mean, you love him, don’t you?”

“Of course I love him!”

“And it’s not like you’ll ever find a better match. I mean you’re a fit bloke and all—”

“You coming on to me, Potter? Because—”

“But we’re lucky we ended up rooming with possibly the kindest, most tolerating man on the planet, and you’re damn lucky he turned out gay.”

“I know I’m lucky.”

“If you knew just how lucky you are, you’d make moves to lock things down!”

“It’s not that I’m opposed to the idea! I’ve just never thought about it!”

“Well, think about it now!”

“Fine, I will!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

James huffed but started a new discussion about the future of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and who ought to take the captain’s position after they left next year, refusing to fall into an angry silence with his best friend.

**

Sirius only needed to think about it for the twenty minutes it took them to reach the tree by the far side of the lake where their friends and lovers sat.

Remus lay supine on a Gryffindor-red bedsheet spread out on the grass, one ankle crossed over the other, a supplementary Transfiguration textbook in one hand and a cucumber sandwich in the other. He was wearing one of Sirius’s favourite jumpers to see Remus in, over a well-worn grey v-neck that had once been black and had also once been Sirius’s. The sweater vest was neatly knit at the top but more uneven the further down it went, because Sirius had slowly begun to lose patience in the process of making it. The fact that it had been crafted by Sirius’s hands was not at all the reason it was Sirius’s favourite of Remus’s collection. Sirius loved it because the wintry mint cream colour simultaneously brought out the threads of gold in Remus’s hair, the specks of green in his eyes, and memories of sharing After Eight chocolates on their first night at Hogwarts. Remus’s brow furrowed when a shadow fell over his eyes, but he looked up and immediately beamed when he realized just who cast it.

“Hey, Pads,” Remus greeted. He pushed himself up by the elbows, then shifted to sit with his long legs folded under him and pulled two white plates out from the massive wicker basket at the edge of the blanket. Onto one he deposited a few egg and watercress sandwiches and placed the plate by Lily’s — deeply immersed in her own revision — knee. Onto the other he placed two triangles of smoked salmon, Sirius’s favourite tea sandwich, as well as a cheddar scone, before placing the plate next to his own. “Prongs. See anything good in Divination?”

Sirius shrugged his rucksack off his shoulder and dropped to the ground behind him. He sat with his legs crossed and dragged Remus onto his lap. “I’m going to marry you,” Sirius informed him, wrapping his arms tight round Remus’s waist and hooking his chin over Remus’s shoulder.

Remus, long used to being manhandled to suit his boyfriend’s affection-related whims, simply swung his legs around to sit sideways so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck to make eye contact and draped an arm across Sirius’s shoulders. “Oh?” he asked with an arched brow.

“My best man will have glasses and dark, messy hair tamed by a bottle and a half of Sleekeazy’s,” Sirius predicted. “He’ll run around like a chicken with his head cut off keeping everything in order, but every moment of rest will be spent gravitating toward the beautiful redhead he brought as a date. She will be his date for every event for the rest of their lives.”

“Aww,” Lily murmured, resting her head on James’s shoulder.

“I could’ve told you that,” Remus said, waving a dismissive hand with a teasing smile. “Was it indoor or outdoor?”

Sirius hummed and stared off into the distance as if he were trying to recall a vision, rather than conjure one up in his mind. “The ceremony will be in a castle and the reception will spill out onto the grounds by the lake,”

Remus looked rather pointedly at the castle, then over to the lake. The message was clear: You can do better than that.

“We’ll plan it to be an early affair with afternoon tea, but everyone is going to have such a good time that it’ll carry on into evening, and we’ll end up sending our best man to pick up a dozen pizzas from the nearest Muggle town.”

“No wonder he’s running around like a chicken with its head cut off,” James quipped.

“The dress code will technically be black tie, but it won’t last for long. Our guest list is going to skew quite young, as I’m sure you can imagine, and the clear blue waters of the lake will be irresistibly tempting on a hot summer day. We’ll have kids running around in soaking dress robes before changing and coming back out in whatever else they had packed.”

“Wait, do we book the whole castle for overnight?”

“Of course we do, Remus. Since when do we do anything by halves?”

“This is going to be a very expensive wedding, Padfoot.”

“We’ll be able to afford it, Moony,” Sirius promised. “We’re going to be very comfortable when the time comes, but above all else, we’re going to be deliriously happy, and just as in love as we are today.”

“I look forward to it,” Remus murmured, a serene, hopeful smile stretching across his face. He leaned forward slowly, like he always did, and it was as endearing as ever that he was so careful. As if Sirius had ever rejected a kiss from him. As if Sirius ever would.

But alas, just as their lips brushed, Peter had to chime in.

“I thought you guys were doing Alectryomancy?” Peter squeaked, sounding genuinely baffled. “You got all of that from watching a rooster peck at some grain?”

“Yes,” Sirius snapped. “And I also saw you weren’t invited!”

James broke out in uproarious laughter (and Lily in giggles she failed to muffle behind her hand) that drowned out the sound of Wormtail’s protests. Remus pressed his face into the crook of Sirius’s neck, and Sirius found himself eagerly awaiting the future he’d now planned.

*~*~*

It had been seven years since Azkaban. Seven years free of forced isolation in a cell ten feet long by eight feet wide, but still, in one of the greatest of ironies the universe had ever written, Sirius could not spend too much time in the open spaces or crowds he’d once so desperately craved before feeling the need to retreat.

So it was that he found himself on the balcony of the room he and Remus had claimed for the weekend, enjoying the bird’s eye view of the festivities.

The potion had long worn off from Harry’s hair, so the young man was easy to spot, a blip of ebony chasing his cousin Tonks’s youngest, as the child made to climb to the very top of a spindly tree so she could cannonball into the lake again. The Weasleys always stood out from the masses too, both for height and for bright red hair in a sea of green grass. Ron was at the food table, explaining to some of the kids the wonders of pizza, while Ginny filled a plate, the emerald ring on her finger glinting in the light.

Huh, Sirius thought. Sirius and Remus had opened Grimmauld Place up to any children, orphaned or otherwise, who felt like they had no place to go after the war. Many had taken them up on the offer, and though they often took the kids out to Diagon Alley, to Hogsmeade and beaches and castles like this one, they had clearly dropped the ball on introducing them to the fun Muggles could have. He’d have to see if any good bands would be playing in London after he and Remus got back from their honeymoon.

“There you are,” a raspy, lilting voice called from behind. Sirius didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know exactly who it was but chose to do so anyway because he had learned to appreciate every opportunity to gaze upon the love of his life. “I scoped out the roof first, you know.”

“Why would you do that? These old bones aren’t so good at getting up where they’ve no business being, nowadays.”

“Good for other things, though,” Remus said with a wink, the minx. He strode forward to join Sirius, hopping up to sit on the balustrade. “What are you thinking about?”

“Divination,” Sirius answered.

Remus let out a questioning hum.

“You might not remember,” Sirius warned. It was a common way for him to start a sentence. Sirius had twelve years of nothingness that made the halcyon days of youth stand out in vivid relief; Remus had twelve years of life, a miserable, lonely, empty life but life nonetheless. He tended to need a few more details to pull up the memories that still sat fresh at the forefront of Sirius’s mind. “It was seventh year, a bit before N.E.W.T.s started. We planned to meet up by the lake because James and I got out of class later than the rest of you lot on Thursdays after Divination. And when we got there, you and Lily,” and Peter, but they still tended to gloss over him in their stories, “had taken out some bed sheets and put together this great big picnic — ”

“And I asked you how class was and you decided you were going to marry me!” Remus cut in, tossing his head back in laughter. “I remember now. You came up with all these predictions on the spot for how we’d have this spectacular wedding where all the guests stayed overnight at a…” Remus trailed off to glance around before smiling indulgently at Sirius. “Padfoot, did you pick this venue just to prove yourself right?”

“No!” Sirius sputtered out a laugh. “Just a happy accident. Or maybe it was fated. I mean I did get almost everything right.”

“Only almost?”

Sirius hummed in confirmation, looking over his new husband. Remus was an absolute vision in dress robes of gunmetal grey and the exact shade of mint cream Sirius liked best on him, lines around his ever smiling eyes, streaks of silver accompanying the gold in his hair, still Sirius’s favourite face in the world. “I’m even more in love today than I was at eighteen.”

[misstressshelby]

The Good The Bad and Everything In-between

Summary: Living with two Shebly men has its ups and downs. A second part of my Lost Boy writing. (I suck at summaries)

Warnings: Language

Word Count:1,856

Paring: Tommy/Reader (Reader is GN but there is a slight refecne to pregnancy)

(A/N: I just want to say thank you for 50 notes on Lost Boy! I didn’t think anyone would he interested in a little headcanon I created. I guess we can all agree Finn deserved better. )

You longed for Arrow House even as it’s large gates came into view. Tommy planned to go eighty percent legitimate by the end of next year so that meant playing nice with the tofts. Spending all afternoon with the wives of Tommy’s business associates had drained you. You couldn’t remember if the pit in your stomach or the thumping in your head started before or after lunch.

All you knew was as soon as you entered the house you instantly felt better. Mary was waiting for you as usual. You had lived in Arrow House for a year now but still weren’t used to having maids around.

“Good afternoon Mrs.Shelby. How was your lunch?” Mary smiled as soon you walked in.

“Long Mary, very long.” You gave a tight smile back. Offering a ‘Thank You” as she took your coat.

Before you could ask her where the rest of your family was, Finn walked out of the living room. He was still wearing his school uniform he claimed to hate because it made him look like a “posh twat”. His tutor Mr.Chapman followed behind him shuffling papers into a briefcase.

“Hello, Finn, how's tutoring going?’ You asked.

‘Yeah, it’s alright.’ The redhead grunted back before moving to go outside.

“Are you finished with your homework?” You questioned already suspecting the answer.

“Nah I got a couple more pages but I wanna go to the stables. I’ll only be an hour I swear it.” Finn gave you the pleading look he’d mastered.

After considering it for a moment you nodded,” An hour Finn. Then you finish up your homework before dinner.”

The boy gave you half a hug on his way out. He had to lean down to capture you in his arms. He was only fifteen but he was already taller than you and your husband though Tom would never admit it.

Watching Finn run out the door you turned your attention to the tutor. The man was standing in the hallway fiddling with his bag uneasily.

“How is he doing Mr.Chapman?'' You finally addressed him.

“Well he’s doing alright I suppose.” He continued seeing your questioning stare. “He’s still struggling with a few concepts but he’s quick to figure things out.”

“Yeah, that’s the Shelby in ‘im” You chuckle to yourself. “Do we owe you for the week?

Shaking his head Mr.Chapman told you “No.No. Mr.Shelby already took care of it.’

Adjusting his satchel he quickly left out the same door as Finn. He never stayed long after their sessions.

Not giving it much thought, you headed straight to your husband’s office. He was already gone when you woke this morning and as silly as it was you missed him. After knocking against the door you pull it open before Tommy’s muffled “come in” could even start.

“Hello, Tommy, how ‘is your day going?” You greet him while making the short walk to his desk.

He looked up from his papers with a cigarette hanging off his lips to give a short “Busy.”, before writing again.

You didn’t let this deter you as you sat on the edge of his desk that wasn’t covered in files. Taking the cigarette from his lips you kissed him as if you had been deprived of him for months.

“The tutor just left. He said Finn is making good progress.” You informed him.

He watched as you took a drag off his cigarette with a glint in his eyes. Knowing you wouldn’t leave until he gave you the attention you demanded he leaned back in his chair.

“How was lunch with Minnie and Ida then?” He asked.

‘It was like every other boring lunch, we sat around and ate tiny food while they complained about the other wives. I've invited Minnie and Richard to dinner next Wednesday.”, You could feel your headache return as you told him.

Tommy gave you a curious look waiting for you to take another drag.

‘She was telling me Richard is looking into investing in the car business while it’s on the rise and all. So I figured we’d have them for dinner and if business happens to be brought up you two can talk about it.” You explain.

“So happens to be brought up?” Tommy teased.

“Yes, it usually happens at these things.” You tell him with a slight smile.

“Now you finish up whatever you’re doing. Dinner will be ready at seven.” You command slipping off the desk while putting the cigarette out in the ashtray.

Your husband let out a loud sigh which was never a good sign.

“Love, I have a lot of work to do ton-’ He started.

“Yes, and you can finish it when you come back from dinner.” You cut him off.

This was the ever-going battle in your home making Tommy stop working and take care of himself. But you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without a fight.

You lean over the side of the desk pulling him lightly by his silk tie into another kiss.

“Thomas Shelby, I will drag you out of this office. Don’t you think for a second I won’t.” You threaten him with a grin.

” Wouldn’t dream of it Mrs.Shelby.”, He smirked back.

At seven on the dot, you all sat down for dinner together as a family.

Finn talked for most of the dinner about school and his favorite football club going to the championship.

You mused about your plans for Minnie’s dinner Wednesday.

Tommy spent most of dinner listening, offering nods or the occasional “yeah”.

Once he and Finn started talking about a horse he wanted to buy for the races he didn’t stop. Long forgotten was the pile of contracts in his office.

For the first time since you woke this morning you were content. The moments you spent with your little family were the ones you cherished the most.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of a door slamming startled you awake. While the two voices yelling kept you from falling back to sleep. Before you could wonder what the fuss was about, an acidic taste overtook your mouth. You barely made it to the toilet, your knees hitting the hard floor as the bile rose. By the time you had emptied your stomach laying on the bathroom floor the screaming had stopped.

You couldn’t think about anything over the pounding in your head made worse from the buzzing of the lights. Making your way downstairs you noticed everything irritated you.

The fact that you tripped over Thomas’s shoes you had told him to put away last night. The coldness of the house even though there was a fireplace in almost every room. Even the way Mary greeted you with “Good Morning Mrs.Shelby.” seemed to drip with condescension.

As you reached the dining room you had a feeling the day was going to drag on forever.

Finn was glaring at his eggs while pushing them around his plate. Beside him, Tommy hid behind a newspaper with only a line of smoke to be seen.

The room was tense and you knew neither of the men would say anything first. Stubbornness also ran in the Shelbys.

“Do either of you want to tell what the fuck all the commotion this morning was about?” You snapped sitting in front of your own breakfast.

Finn gave you a glare before starting in,” Yeah Tommy won’t let me go to a football match with me friends. It’s fooking bullshit!”

In return, Tommy put down the paper with a sigh,” You’re not going to Manchester. I’m not discussing this again Finn.”

Both of them looked at you as if you had a say in the matter.

“If Thomas says no the answer is no Finn.” You settled.

“This is complete bollocks. You took me away from me friends in Birmingham and now I’m not allowed to have any friends here either?” Finn screamed standing up from the table.

“We never said you couldn’t have friends Finn. It’s just not the right time to go to Manc-” You tried to calm him down.

“ You’re not me fucking mother you can’t tell me what to do!” He slammed his chair against the table.

“You will not fooking talk too ‘er like that! This is me fooking house and what I say fooking goes.” Tommy said in a cold voice.

The table shook as he slammed his palm down on it, breaking his calm facade.

With that Finn stomped up to his room and Tommy to his office both slamming the door when they arrived.

Waking from a nap you had hoped would help with the sickness you felt you heard silence. You laid in bed for a bit longer feeling tears build up in your eyes. Instead of wallowing, you decided to make peace. You chose to try talking to the youngest first making your way to his room. You knocked on the door.

After waiting to hear a reply or shuffle come from the room you knocked again.

“Fuck off.,” Finn answered.

Ignoring him you opened the door anyway to find him lying on his bed still dressed from this morning. He simply turned away from you to face the wall instead.

You sat on the edge of the bed before trying to talk.

“Finn I know you don’t understand this but Tommy is just trying to keep you safe.” You started.

Finn scoffed and moved closer to the wall.

“I know you don’t know this because you’ve been so busy with school, but we’ve had some trouble in Manchester. There’s a gang up there the Scuttlers, who've been trying to move on us. We can’t protect you there Finn. That’s all it is.” Moving closer you put a hand on his shoulder.

``We're happy you’ve made friends at school really. It’s just one match yeah? You can hang out with them another time.” You tried reasoning.

“Yeah.” He grunted, not moving from his spot.

You decided you would take it before going to deal with the other man child.

You found Tommy sitting in his office chair finishing a drink before pouring another.

“ Who does he think he ‘is eh? Talking to me like that in me own fucking house. I should go up there and-’ Tommy began rambling pointing towards the door you just walked through.

“Tom, it's fine. I talked to him and explained everything. Just give ‘im a week and he’ll forget all about it.”You sat in the chair opposite of him.

Once you said that he seemed to relax a little bit.

“I’m still talking to ‘im later. He will not disrespect me or you like that again.” He told you.

To that, you chuckled, “ He’s a teenage boy Thomas he’s gonna argue. But I agree you should talk to him after you’ve both calmed down.”

Tommy nodded and took another swing of his whiskey. He walked over to where you sat leaning against the desk. To your surprise, he smiled.

“You’d make a good mum you know?” He leaned down to stroke your cheek.

“Yeah about that.” You let out.

[takuyakistall]

romeo!

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Ace Trappola from the Trappola Kingdom, there was no doubt that he was a great man that was destined to achieve glory in a few years' time. But, there was one tiny problem. Being a prince from his own country meant that he needed to marry a lady from a prominent household. With much reluctance, he ended up choosing a princess from a neighbouring country—only to find out that the Prince of the Spade Kingdom has his eyes set on her as well. Is this... Competition?

Tags: Fem!Reader, Royalty AU, mentions of death, kidnapping, anything else you would find in a romance manhwa

Note: This piece is purely self indulgent and I plan on writing more for it! But I decided to share the first chapter here. There's no action yet so this is just some build-up.

Ace Trappola was never one to abide by the silly little rules of etiquette, he always thought that they were too nitpicky and stiff ever since he was a little boy. He thought that it was useless to keep up appearances for the sake of his reputation—until he experienced firsthand how cruel high society could be to a mere child who had made a single mistake. Of course, they would never dare to utter a single word in fear that their tongues would be cut off by his Highness, the king. But he would never ever forget the cold gazes that laid upon him as soon as he turned his back.

Which is why he donned a mask. He wore it all day and night as a child, hoping that it would be indestructible as he grew up but that brought him nothing but more of the empty and hollow feeling he hated. Despite already being so well-mannered, so educated, and so charming—he was nothing more than the second prince of the country who always seemed to be overshadowed by his older brother, the first prince. He was the definition of Ace's "perfect".

"Hey uncle," little Ace referred to his butler as such as he closed the storybook he was reading. A spark of curiosity sparkling in his eyes as he continued, "how do I become as amazing as my big brother?"

A childlike innocence could easily be tainted by those with such intentions—the old butler could easily plant the wrong ideas in his head and nurture the seeds of jealousy he planted within him. He stared at him for a second before letting out a sigh, strengthening his resolve when he saw Ace's eyes full of wonder.

"His Highness does not have to do anything, you are already a wonderful child just like your brother."

"Really!?"

"Of course, I wouldn't dare lie to you. If you continue to stay on the right path, I have no doubt that you will be as great as your brother in the future." He patted Ace's head, relieved that the second prince seemed to be satisfied with the answer.

"Yeah... I will!" He declared, staring right back at his butler with an uncontrollably big grin taking over his face.

That was the last time he saw that butler.

The palace staff told him he died because of heart failure during his day off. This devastated poor little Ace Trappola greatly—demanding to be allowed to attend his funeral but was stopped by his father, saying that there was no need for someone like him to attend a servant's funeral. The hand-picked white lilies Ace took that day in hopes of paying his respects, withered inside his room as he cried his heart out.

The next day, they had already found a replacement for his butler. Someone who was far younger than his previous one and was definitely less warm—he went by the name "Rowen" and insisted that the young prince should call him that. At first, Ace put up a fight as he tried to resist everything Rowen tried to do—even if it was just a menial task such as him trying to tie Ace's necktie for him.

But, nonetheless, Ace was still a child and children, more often than not, don't know how to deal with grief. You could easily spot him crying in places he shouldn't be yet no one had the heart to tell him that, even more when Rowen asked the palace staff specifically to not approach the prince if they ever spot him like that and instead, call for him immediately.

Stuck inside the garden, Ace was barely trying to keep his sobs in as he rubbed his eyes with his sleeves.

"I miss uncle…" He cried out, perhaps getting a little bit tired of how colder the palace seemed to be towards him. A pair of footsteps suddenly approached him, Ace quickly stood up and patted away all the dirt from his clothes so it seemed like he didn't cry but his swollen eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Your Highness, I was looking for you."

"Oh, Rowen. It's you…" A dejected look took over his face, was he expecting his old butler to appear? He silently crushed his hopes as he raised a question for his new companion.

"Can I ask you a question…?"

"Of course."

"D-Do you think I can still be as amazing as my big brother?" A few seconds of silence passed by as Rowen crossed his arms.

"Forgive me for my bluntness. However, at this rate, you will never amount to what your brother will be in the future."

"E-Eh? But uncle said that—"

"Your 'uncle' was foolish, perhaps that was why he died." Rowen crouched down, his green irises staring right into Ace's eyes—there was something in his eyes that Ace couldn't put a finger on but one thing is for sure, he thought Rowen was scary during this very moment.

"What you need right now is power," Rowen pressed a finger against his lips. "And that's exactly what I can give you."

"Power? Don't I already have plenty of that, I'm a prince!"

"What you need," he pushed Ace back with his index finger, "is enough power to take the throne."

"But big brother is the only one who can take that!" Ace shouted, trying to overpower the nonsense he was hearing from his new butler.

"Heed my words and I can make it happen." Rowen's lips tugged up into a small smirk before delivering his final words.

"After all, you want to be as great as your brother, the first prince."

Ace felt confused. He clutched his chest as he thought about his words—he did want to be as great as his brother but he couldn't help but be a little wary of what Rowen might ask of him. Ace had to slap himself back to reality, there was no reason for him to think about this so seriously! There was no way he could take the throne for himself and why would he even want to do that…? Isn't he happy the way he is right now?

Ace stepped out from the garden with Rowen following him shortly behind. He stared at the castle building, the maids and butlers working about, and a few noble visitors roaming around.

That was when a little devil's voice started whispering in his ear.

Deuce Spade had been anything but happy upon growing up inside the Royal Palace. Being the sole crown prince of the Spade Kingdom, his life never consisted of flowers and rainbows contrary to what many think. If you asked young Deuce himself about his position, he would simply give you a blank stare before properly processing your question. Once he does, he’ll give you a half-hearted smile before answering with: “It’s a duty I must fulfill.”

He’d never been too fond of the fact that his life was already planned ahead of him the moment the royal palace discovered his existence in his mother’s womb. He would undergo proper education fitting for the crown prince, he would be assigned with tasks that were meant for the crown prince, and he would soon rise to the throne once his father was no longer able to rule.

Rather than inheriting the throne, he yearned for something else. Being the heir to the throne meant that there was almost nothing he couldn’t obtain but he found himself dumbfounded when his elders aggressively denied him of his desire for the first time.

His desire to become a knight.

Deuce was said to be excellent with the art of the sword, easily surpassing other kids his age. But that was not the reason why Deuce had the desire to become a knight.

One of the first things they taught Deuce was the fact that he was in a dangerous position and that there might be cases wherein other people might make an attempt on his life. He thought that it was ridiculous because, after all, who would dare try to kill the crown prince? It would be treason!

And because of that, he was too lax.

One night, the prince got kidnapped and threw the whole palace in an uproar. Little Deuce could barely open his eyes when he tried assessing his surroundings, his eyes were blurry and he couldn’t move a muscle as no voice came out from his mouth. He was beyond terrified, he thought he was going to die that night. He pleaded inside his head, begging someone to come and find him. But for days, he was yet to be found.

He thought that perhaps the Royal Palace had decided to give up on him as he lost hope himself, his eyes growing dull and duller. He had to endure the harsh treatment given to him during his abduction, the only thing keeping him sane was the single ray of hope that someone was going to rescue him.

Just as he felt as if the thread was about to snap, he saw a cloaked man barge into the place where he was held hostage with a sword in hand. Ruthlessly, he cut down the perpetrators without so much as a blink. Deuce could only stare at the scene unfolding in front of him weakly. ‘Am I… being saved?’

It took him every ounce of his strength to stay conscious. And even more when he forced himself to ask the mysterious cloaked man. He wasn’t wearing anything that could discern his homeland, Deuce couldn’t figure out where he came from. His face was covered by the hood of the cloak, he couldn’t see his features very well. Deuce was afraid that there would be no way of him figuring out his identity before he passes out, so he forced a voice out of his throat.

“Who… are you?” His voice was hoarse. The man stayed silent, sheathing his sword before walking closer to the prince and unlocking the rope binding his hands together. Deuce could slowly feel himself losing consciousness but just before he could pass out, the man finally answered his question.

“...A knight.” He muttered.

The next time Deuce opened his eyes, he was no longer in a dark place but instead, in an unfamiliar yet extravagant room. He could tell that it was not the palace in his kingdom, he felt himself panic once again as he remembered the past events. When he heard a knock on his door, Deuce flinched as he hesitantly told them to come in.

A small girl around Deuce’s age entered the room with a plushie in her arms. He told himself to calm down upon seeing her, reassuring himself that the probability of this girl doing the same thing as the ones who kidnapped him were very low.

“Are you feeling better now, Your Highness?” She asked, concern lacing her voice. Deuce clutched his arm.

“Better than before… at least. But before that, who are you?” It was only normal for Deuce to become extremely wary considering what he just went through. The young girl understood that and merely gave him a small grin.

She introduced herself as the first princess of the kingdom he was residing in. Deuce was shocked, it wasn’t his own kingdom that found him but another! Did that mean that all this time he was in a foreign country? Was that the reason why no one had found him for days? Countless questions were swirling inside his head.

The princess was the only one who was let into his room, seeing as how Deuce was more comfortable seeing someone around his own age rather than adults. She was as clumsy as she was kind, Deuce found himself being comforted by her even if most of their meetings consisted of him being gloomy.

A few days later, an envoy was sent to Deuce’s kingdom to inform them that he was safe in their palace. During that period of time, Deuce was cooped up inside his room—thinking about a lot of stuff and refused to come out for hours. When it was time for him to go, he visited the princess one last time.

“Is it possible for me to visit you in the future?” Gratitude? Attraction? Personal interest? The reason behind his words was blurred.

When he returned home, he almost gave the whole Royal Court a heart attack when he declared that he wanted to become a knight. Nobody could tell what Deuce was thinking after he was abducted, it was as if he turned into an entirely different person. But he was thoroughly denied of his desire to become a knight, in which he was highly disappointed in. But, somehow, he found a way to secretly train without anyone finding out.

Using the princess as the shield, he went in and out of your kingdom to train under the pretense of meeting her. But she was more than happy to assist him as they became partners in crime. Deuce couldn’t forget the mysterious knight that saved him and so he idolized him ever since, saying how he wanted to be someone who protected people.

“Princess!” He called out, waving his hand as he grinned at her. This was the start of their relationship with each other. Only time can tell if this was to end happily ever after or otherwise.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 13 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.1k

Part 13 - Pranks & Proper Paybacks

The quill in your hand scratched lightly over the parchment as you were taking notes for Astronomy in the library. It was quiet, as usual, except for the occasional questions and thereof resulting explanations between Ben and Camille. She helped him study for his upcoming Herbology exam, for which he clearly hadn’t revised enough yet. Silly boy.

Tom was there too and sat next to you, completing the quartet round the table. He tried his best not to hiss at them every time Ben asked something. You noticed from the corner of your eye, how he gulped down every thought that built up in his head when another word poured from Ben’s mouth. It was amusing, to say the least, seeing Tom battling with himself to keep his cool. He still didn’t like Ben very much and would much rather study with you alone. But the fact that he had voluntarily sat down with the three of you, tried to behave and didn’t yell at Ben whenever he opened his mouth, told you that he probably didn’t hate him as much as he pretended to.

“So, about the Fluxweed again,” Ben whispered, browsing through his book. “How many days does it have to grow?”

Camille was about to answer when Tom pressed his palm against his forehead and exhaled dramatically. “Sixteen, Ben. It’s sixteen. She’s told you that three times at least.”

Ben took a quick look at Tom, while still fumbling through the book. “I know, mate. I just can’t memorise it. Why do I even need to know that?”

Tom flung a piece of parchment toward him, pointing at the empty sheet. “Write it down, then. There are some things you must know. Get over it.”

“Alright, alright,” Ben grinned and didn’t seem to care about Tom’s tone at all. “I’ll write it down, see? Fluxweed takes thirteen days to grow. Happy now?”

“Sixteen,” Camille, Tom and you sighed in unison.

“Oh.” He crossed out the number and sloppily wrote the correct one above it. “Sixteen then.”

Camille and you chuckled to yourselves while Tom only shook his head slightly, his eyes back inside his own book. Ben certainly was careless, or to be more precise, a lot more careless than Camille, Tom and you when it came to grades. The way he talked about homework and even exams was astonishing. He hadn’t even studied for his O.W.L. in Care for Magical Creatures in his fifth year, and he still got an ‘Exceeds Expectations’. Or so he had told you. He had always found a way to talk his way out of things, which was reasonable. Teachers really seemed to like him. Or rather do anything to stop him from talking once in a while. 

“Oh, wait,” Ben said again.

“Just read your book,” Tom grunted.

“No, hang on.”

Ben stood up and stretched his arm out quickly, reaching and grasping for something to your left. You all turned your heads and saw him catching something that had been flying right at you.

“I might be bad at Herbology. But you’re lucky I’m a bloody good Seeker,” he said and twisted the thin thing between his fingers.

“What is it?” Camille asked. “Let me see.”

Ben put the thing down onto the desk, still pressing his index finger on top of it. “It’s a quill. But it appears to be jinxed. It was flying on its own and headed right for your face,” he said and looked at you. “Still wants to, I can feel it moving.”

The grey quill twitched eagerly beneath Ben’s hand, trying to escape and pointed its sharp tip right at you, ready to pierce into your skin. 

“Not again,” you mumbled.

“Again?” 

Things, odd things, had been happening during the week. Someone had definitely played some pranks and antics on you. You hadn’t found out who it was yet, but it certainly had become pesky. On Monday, someone had left you a note that said Professor Merrythought wanted a word with you. Once you had arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom however, you were met with a confused teacher and had a hard time explaining yourself. Tuesday, someone had poured Rash Powder over your dinner. You had almost taken a bite but thankfully had noticed the unfamiliar smell in time. Wednesday was more subtle. There had been puddles and slippery spots everywhere you stepped. Avoiding them had been a tedious task. And now, on Thursday, this. The quill didn’t look like it could badly injure you, but its vivid nature was a sign for a hex, rather than a jinx. No matter who it was, all those things did tear on your nerves. Not only because the pranks got to you, but because there was a possibility someone had been following you without you noticing. Every time you had gone to the Come and Go Room you had turned around and checked if someone was behind you, just in case. That was the exhausting part.

“Just some pranks,” you explained. “I don’t know who or why, but it’s getting fairly ridiculous.”

“Could someone,” Ben puffed. “Stop this thing? It’s trying to escape.”

Tom pointed his wand directly at the quill and rolled his wrist. It lit up for a fraction of a second and crumbled to dust right after.

“Ouch,” Ben hissed and fanned his hand through the air hastily before putting his index inside his mouth. “Thanks, mate.”

Tom smirked complacently, partly for the spell he had just cast and partly for burning Ben’s fingertip. “Anytime, mate.”

Camille dragged her finger through the ashes, took a good look at them and rubbed it off between her index and her thumb. “Who would do that?”

“I don’t know,” you answered.

“Avery and Lestrange again, perhaps?” she asked.

“Unlikely,” Tom said. “I checked on them some days ago. They’re still with Carpe most of the time, scrubbing the floors and polishing trophies. And besides, they wouldn’t dare.”

“Who else could it be then?” Camille asked as she blew the remaining ashes off the desk with a quick cleaning spell.

The four of you exchanged looks around the table. “To be honest,” Tom began. “I was suspecting you for a while, Ben.”

“Me?” Ben asked wide-eyed. “Why would I do that? I just stopped that quill.”

“‘I’m aware, I’ve seen that now.”

Camille hummed, deep in thought. “Wait,” she said. “What about Freda? Freda Morris.”

“The head girl?” Ben asked.

“Yes,” she said. “She was so jealous at Slughorn’s party, wasn’t she?”

Tom looked at you, biting on the inside of his lower lip, then nodded. “That doesn’t sound too far fetched.”

“I wouldn’t have thought she’d be so creative,” you said while picking up your books. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her then.”

Once you had gathered all your things, you got up and waited for Tom to do the same.

“Where are you going?” Camille asked. “It’s not even seven yet.”

“I have to,” you stopped yourself. You had to tend to the potion in the Come and Go Room again. Needless to say, you couldn’t tell them that. “I have to go and look after Nagini. The snake. She’s shedding at the moment. Talk to you soon.”

“Let us know if something else happens,” Camille said and waved you goodbye. 

Tom followed you silently. Of course, they didn’t ask him why he had to come and check on Nagini as well. The perks of being intimidating. Apart from this, Camille and Ben surely didn’t mind studying without him nagging all the time.

On your way out, right when you left the library and headed toward the grand staircase, Tom and you were halted by another student. Platinum blonde and blue-eyed, Abraxas Malfoy, who was one of Tom’s ever so devious sycophants, locked eyes with him. 

“Tom,” he greeted and stopped right in his tracks.

“Abraxas,” Tom replied.

Oh, what did he want now? There wasn’t a lot of time until the potion had to be stirred, so you hoped Malfoy wouldn’t keep you from going any longer.

“So,” Abraxas began. “I’ve seen, you like to keep new company these days.”

Tom frowned and looked over his shoulder. Clearly, Abraxas didn’t mean you. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything,” he said and chortled a sour laugh. “I’m just observing. You’re dealing with mudbloods now?”

He was talking about Ben. Malfoy and Tom’s other ‘friends’ had probably seen you in the library together. Or in the Three Broomsticks, some weeks ago. Abraxas must have felt really brave to talk to the head boy in this way. His chest was swollen with pride and the glint in his gaze spoke more than he could have ever said. He was out to get something from this conversation.

Tom only exhaled sharply and stared back at Malfoy, completely unconcerned about his reproach. “And how come that’s any of your business, exactly?”

“Oh, it isn’t of course,” Abraxas answered. “I was just surprised. Shocked even.”

“I do apologize,” Tom sneered, clicking his tongue in fake sympathy. “That the gathering of other people, who don’t concern you in the slightest, has ruined your precious day.”

Abraxas stared back at him, obviously trying hard to keep calm. His smile still sat neatly on his face; it were his eyes that betrayed him. “No need to worry about me. I merely started thinking, daydreaming, that your Grandfather might not appreciate that.”

Now he had gone too far. Tom took a step closer, his nostrils flared for a moment and a vein on his neck stood out. “Abraxas,” he whispered so spitefully, it almost sounded like he was talking in Parseltongue, words spilling out of him like pure venom. “I’d advise you to worry about your own life. Because if you don’t, wouldn’t it be tragic if your Mother found out what happened last year at your house? When the maid left and never came back? What was the reason again? If only I remembered. Oh, I do.”

Malfoy’s expression changed momentarily, his head sunk and his eyes darted across the floor, trying hard to think of what to answer.

“Do we understand each other?” Tom asked.

Abraxas nodded, lips thin and full of fury. He instinctively retracted and took a step back, keeping his head low and looked up at Tom through knitted brows.

“Good,” Tom said and left Malfoy standing there. 

Continuing to walk to the grand staircase with you, he appeared like nothing but a casual chat between two friends had just happened. 

“Well,” you said after Abraxas was out of earshot. “That was interesting.”

“They’re all so stupid, sometimes I wonder how they’ve lived this long,” Tom replied. “I have dirt on every single one of them. And they try to blackmail me. Ridiculous.”

“Idiots indeed,” you shook your head. “Do I want to know what happened to the maid?”

“I guess not. It’s a long, repulsive story.”

No doubt it was. Abraxas was known for his dreadful ways and how he had tormented younger students ever since. He wasn’t like Avery or Lestrange, a dumb follower, who had Hippogriff crap for brains. No, he was mindful, awfully aware of his surroundings and constantly seemed to brood about his next step. He reminded you of Marvolo, they both had the same aura, cold and demeaning, always looking for ways to take advantage of other people’s misery. It was no surprise that he had tried to intimidate Tom, maybe even pass him in their hierarchy by threatening to tell everyone about his association with a muggle-born. But he hadn’t thought it through. Tom Riddle wasn’t one to mess with and he had just made that crystal clear. Ben might have not been his friend, but still, he hadn’t let Abraxas speak ill of him.

“I wouldn’t have thought you liked Ben,” you said once you turned another corner.

Tom opened his mouth and looked at you in disbelief for a moment, as if you had just insulted him, before he started talking. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it just seemed like it. You came to his defence so quickly. That’s why I assumed.”

“This wasn’t about Hilt. It was about me, Marvolo and that bootlicker Malfoy.”

“Whatever you say,” you replied teasingly while Tom rolled his eyes.

Friday evolved to be the worst day of the week. Not only had you almost gotten detention for falling victim to a Knockback jinx during Defence Against the Dark Arts if Camille hadn’t come to your rescue. Professor Merrythought still hadn’t forgotten about your visit on Monday and thought you were trying to disturb her lesson again. But in addition, your curriculum almost hindered you from tending to your potion completely. It had become nearly impossible to handle everything at once. Your classes, homework, studying for the N.E.W.T.s, taking care of the antidote and on top of all that, those stupid pranks. It had been draining and your body ached for a bit of rest. 

On your way to Tom’s dorm, when the sun had already set and you were finally done with everything for the day, you heard the clink of a door handle turning behind you. It almost had gone overheard, the only thing you wanted to do was sit down for a moment and unwind, even if only for an hour. You had already reached the door to Tom’s room and could have just entered to forget about the world for a while. But there was this unsettling feeling inside of you and Camille’s words from the library ran through your head again. You turned around. And thank Merlin you did.

Freda Morris stood in her own door frame, smirking maliciously, with her wand pointed right at you. She must have been taken by surprise, it didn’t seem like she had expected you to look at her. Her wand sank in an instant before she hid it behind her back.

“You,” you muttered, taking some steps her way. “It was you all week, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said smiling, trying to take the high ground, but you wouldn’t let her.

“Just admit it at least. Coward. You know exactly what I’m talking about and you were just trying to do it again, weren’t you?”

Freda shook her head and put a strand of hair behind her ear with her skinny fingers. “I’m head girl, dear. I would never do anything to harm another student if that is what you’re implying. I don’t know what could have given you the idea.”

“Oh shut up,” you spat. “Head girl, yes. An awful excuse for one at best.”

The door behind you opened and Tom appeared from inside. He looked out into the hallway frowning. “What’s all that noise about?”

“Your fiancée’s throwing a fit.”

“Camille was right,” you said, still not taking your eyes off Freda. “It was her. The note, the quill and everything else. I just caught her right in the act.”

Freda heaved one single, shrill laugh at your words and straightened her posture. “I just told you, I would never do such things.”

“What were you doing then? Pointing your wand at me, when I have my back turned on you.”

She pondered, taken aback, while she looked at Tom beside you until her grin appeared back on her face. “You’re imagining things. I was just leaving my room to go and talk to Professor Dippet. That’s when you started to yell at me for no reason.”

“Liar!”

She didn’t lower herself to even look at you anymore. Instead, she looked at Tom. “Is this really what you look for in a woman? Hysterical and hostile? I would have thought you had better taste.”

The need to go up to her and slap her across the face seemed almost unbearable. Your hands were balled into fists and it took all your might not to take out your own wand and pay her back everything she had done to you, times ten. Tom on the other hand stayed calm and smiled weakly while looking back at her.

“Don’t worry about my taste, Freda,” he said. “I’d rather worry about your memory. Maybe you haven’t been informed, which would be very unfortunate seeing that you are head girl, but Professor Dippet isn’t in Hogwarts today. He’s been called in by the Wizengamot. How could you have been on your way to him then?”

Freda’s smile faltered, her eyes darting back and forth between Tom and you. “I must have not gotten his owl then.”

“Certainly,” Tom said. “I want a word. Now.”

“No,” you intervened and he stopped his movements to look at you. “I can do this myself.”

Tom stepped back with a small smirk on his face. Freda was in for a treat. You walked up to her until there was only a hand’s breadth of space between your faces.

“Listen now,” you said, your heart pumping strongly inside your chest. “I don’t know what you were thinking. If you were thinking. But I swear, if you ever play another of your pranks on me again, I-”

“You what?” she asked and shoved you by the shoulder. “Do you think I’m scared of you?”

The moment she had touched you, you felt something moving by your feet. Nagini had slithered out through Tom’s open door and hissed louder than you had ever heard before. Freda gasped and took several steps backwards, startled by the snake. Nagini placed herself between the two of you and reared up, looking as huge and aggressive as ever. Her hisses were meant for one person only and when you looked back at Tom, you recognised that he wasn’t talking to the snake. She had come to your defence on her own.

“Take that thing away,” Freda yelled. “Make it stop.”

“Or what?” you asked. “You might have not been scared of me yet, but I promise you, give me one more reason and you will be.”

She didn’t dare answer, still looking down at Nagini in utmost panic and tried to foresee every move the snake was about to make. You savoured on the sight for a moment, fervently enjoying how Freda fumbled for the doorknob behind herself.

“Come Nagini,” you then said as you turned around. “Leave her alone. For now.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[infinitebells]

the act (s. moran)

sebastian moran doesn’t know how to love. incessant pressure from his father to “do better” erased any kind of bond he could have formed with him. his platoon was murdered in front of his eyes, and when he woke up the realization that he was dead too wiped away any chance at love.

sebastian moran prides himself on his ability to bed women (and men if he so chooses) at the snap of a finger. taunts and mocks come at the expense of his actions, but why should he care? he’s always been the butt of the joke while working with the moriarty family. it’s not like they’re going out and picking up people left and right. they don’t have the ability to do so. the colonel claims it’s a god given gift, but fred knows better than to buy into the defense mechanism that is moran’s sexual habits.

sebastian moran doesn’t care for anyone. sure, he’ll give his life to keep william alive, but that’s simply out of pure obligation. he’s well aware that his own like is expendable. why should he spend time trying to convince himself otherwise?

sebastian moran is a defensive, brash, sexual man who does not need anyone to stay alive. that is, until he meets you.

•••

when he first sees you, it’s across the street in town. you’re arguing with a vendor, claiming the fruit you’re trying to purchase is much too expensive for the meager salary of a maid working for some self-centered noble. it’s not like the vendor will cave on their price, but you hope they’ll remember the interaction for the next time someone can’t buy any of their produce. you’re two seconds from walking away until a tall (very handsome) man slides next to you, paying for the fruit in full. he offers you a cocky smirk, but you know better than to buy into the fact that some strange man is buying the entirety of your produce just for the hell of it.

meanwhile, the colonel is trying his very hardest to not blush like a maniac. because in reality, the suave act that he puts on for the men and women swooning over him in bars and sleazy alleyways is just that. an act. so when he realizes you’re absolutely nothing like the people he puts the act on for, he’s stumped. he’s intrigued by your soft eyes, the slight downward curve of your lips as you frown at him, and the way your fingers fiddle with the thin gold chain hanging delicately off your neck.

“there’s no need for such a beautiful person to frown and mar their face. i’m simply being polite,” he’s well aware his comment strikes a bone in you, but he’s thoroughly surprised at your remark.

“i’m beautiful regardless of the face i’m making. only some people can truly appreciate such beauty,” you say with confidence, straightening your back and staring up at him (you’re just now made aware of how tall he is). his smirk fades into a childlike grin, and you come to appreciate how he almost looks like a young boy smiling widely in a candy shop. but you know better. the hard lines of his face and the small scar peaking out from beneath his buttoned shirt indicate that the man’s mind is far older than you realized. his dark eyes reflect pure joy at your challenge, but you can still detect the faint traces of panic. you’re confused as to why such a confident looking man would experience panic when talking to you. you won’t know why he’s panicked around you until much later.

“i suppose you’ll have to teach me how to appreciate your beauty then,” he hopes he maintains the same confident tone he spoke with before, but with the way you’re looking at him he’s positive you see right through him.

“you can only see true beauty once you’ve seen it in yourself. i’d suggest dropping the act, it makes it much easier to appreciate yourself if you’re true to who you are,” you finish, turning away from him and walking away. the vendor looks between you and moran, but moran’s eyes focus solely on you. he’s sure that the next time he sees you he’ll fall even farther than he already has.

•••

the second time he sees you, you’re picking up a brand new tailored suit for the nobleman you work for. you’re very clearly tired, the bags under your eyes a dark purple, but sebastian moran is still in awe of your raw beauty. he doesn’t even try to put up his usual front when he walks in line next to you, head turned down.

“if you’re having trouble with such a heavy bag, i could help you carry it,” he tries hard to keep the bubbling feeling of bashfulness out of his voice, but your small giggles prove that you’ve already detected it. when you look up at him, eyes shining with amusement and mouth wide in a breathtaking smile, he thanks every deity in existence for bringing you to him.

“i see you’ve learned to at least drop your act around me. i’m impressed, i didn’t know men like you could learn to do it so quickly,” you admit, turning back to the heavy package in your hands. at that, his face turns down into a confused frown.

“what do you mean men like me?” he’s curious, wanting to know how you see him.

“men who so clearly put up a charming front in order to seduce others when in reality it’s simply a defense mechanism to hide their insecurities,” you say it as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. sebastian on the other hand takes a moment to process your words before scoffing indignantly.

“and what do you think i’m insecure about?” he glares down at you, trying to keep the anger in his voice. it’s difficult for him to do so when you look up at him with pure mischief in your eyes.

“that would probably be a third date kind of conversation. how about we start with date number one tonight at the bar near the vendor we first met at. 8 o’clock sharp,” you say it with ease, and he’s taken aback by your brazen words.

“but i’ve never been on a date,” he blurts out without thinking, looking down as his cheeks flush a pale red. sure, he’s met people at bars, but it never escalated past the one night they shared between sheets. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart beat a little faster at his obvious embarrassment.

“i’m sure you’ll do just fine colonel moran. i look forward to tonight!” you call out, turning left at the intersection. it takes him a second to register that you just said his name, and he never said it to you in the first place, much less his military rank.

“how do you know who i am?” his voice is loud enough to catch the attention of a few noble women who giggle and stare at him. he pays no attention to them. he only watches you as you turn around to smile coyly at him.

“you’re not the only one with connections,” you say before disappearing into the crowd. it’s a simple sentence, but the implication has his head spinning dangerously fast. he’s ecstatic to see you again.

•••

the third time he sees you, it’s not at the bar. it’s in the basement of your nobleman’s house, where he had you locked up five days ago. your clothing is practically ripped to shreds, blood seeping out of angry red cuts on your arms and legs. you almost look more dead than the noble upstairs. the only tell tale sign that you’re still alive is the shallow rise of your chest with every labored breath. you barely stir when he carefully cradles you in his arms, rushing you out of the house and back to the manor.

when louis opens the door to find a frantic moran and a near-dead maid in his arms, he lets him by without a word. he knows better than to question the colonel when he looks as panicked as he did. louis helps him bandage you up without a word, washing away dried blood and cleaning old wounds as moran carefully wraps bandages around the bigger cuts. william, fred, and albert return back to the mansion all together, watching moran in awe.

“colonel, who is this?” william finally speaks up as the two men finish bandaging up your still unconscious form.

“a maid for that dead noble,” his answer is short, curt. he doesn’t speak again as he carries you bridal style out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, letting you rest. he’ll explain everything once you’re awake, but for now, he’s content with watching you sleep. as fred stares quietly from the doorway, he’s well aware that sebastian moran has never cared for anyone in his life. but with you, there’s clearly an exception.

•••

he sees you everyday after that, keeping a silent tally in his head. he’d never admit that to you though, knowing he’d never hear the end of it.

he learned your name the day you woke up, your raspy voice still ringing clearly in his head. the first time he heard your name, he had to stop a blush from spreading across his face. a beautiful name for a beautiful person.

“so colonel, are we ever going to make up that bar date? i was really looking forward to it you know,” your soft voice pulls him out of his head, staring at you from across the couch. you’re wearing his jacket, claiming it was cold in the house since winter was coming. you both knew that was a lie, that william always had measures in place to keep the house warm. yet, neither of you said a word about it.

“you want our first date to be in a bar? why can’t i take you out on a proper date?” his question is genuine, and the exasperated look on his face makes it very evident. but you couldn’t care less.

“yes i would like it to be in a bar. i’m sure that’s where you put your act on the most. it would make sense that that’s where you start to drop it as well,” you say nonchalantly. the sentence is loaded, and he can see the piercing gaze you send his way as you speak. the knot in his throat grows, and for the first time in years, sebastian moran feels nervous. downright anxious.

“no pressure colonel, i can see the cogs in your head spinning wildly. i just want to see who you really are, not the panty dropper the other maids used to fantasize about while working,” you can’t help but giggle at your own words, and the silliness of it all forces a laugh out of moran. you’ve never seen him laugh before, but it’s the most beautiful sight in the world.

•••

the seventh time he sees you, you’re dressed in nicer clothes than usual, a glass of whiskey in your hand as you giggle over another story moran’s told you that night. both of you are breathless, laughing over the story about how one time albert tried sneaking a girl into the manor, but everyone was awake and awkwardly watched as he escorted her into his bedroom. the bar incites lively conversation, patrons bumping into you two as you stand at the wooden countertop.

“i thought albert was a gentleman!” you can’t get the sentence out without giggling once more, leaning forward a bit.

“apparently he’s not as much of a gentleman as we thought he was,” moran responds, a bright smile painting his face. he looks absolutely gorgeous like this, cheeks flushed and smile so wide you could fit a coat hanger in his mouth. once your laughter dies down, both of you sigh, taking sips from your respective drinks. you’re the first one to break the silence, smiling warmly at the colonel.

“i think i could come to like this more accurate version of you colonel,” you say with sincerity. his smile grows impossibly wider at that, a heavier blush accompanying it.

“excuse me mr. moran? i was wondering if maybe you’d like to join me upstairs?” a high pitched, almost whiney voice sounds to the left of you. a woman, probably a few years older than you, bats her eyelashes seductively at the colonel. his blush fades instantly, and his smile turns sharper. you watch as his eyes glaze over with their usual cockiness, turning to face her and whispering what you can only assume are sweet nothings in her ear.

“i think i’ll be taking my leave, i seem to only be interrupting something here,” you say dryly, setting your glass down on the bar and walking away from the pair. you can feel moran’s eyes on you, but it doesn’t matter as you push your way through the crowd. the doors fly open with the force of your push, and it catches the attention of almost everyone in the bar. not that you care. all that matters is getting away from the sight of the shell of sebastian moran and the woman who was so clearly was eye fucking him right in front of you. you don’t realize your hands are shaking until you feel a larger pair envelope your own and they stop trembling. moran’s eyes are wide, trained on you. you’re positive if you look up they’ll simply take your breath away.

“why’d you leave so suddenly?” his voice is steady, but you know better. you were always terrible at reading people up until you met sebastian moran.

“i’d rather not be abandoned in a bar while you went off with some woman, so i figured i’d save myself the trouble and just leave,” you keep your voice even, eyes still on the ground. that is until his fingers lift your chin up to meet his face, and you come face to face with the softest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. it should be illegal the way he’s looking at you.

“i was telling her i was on a date with you, and that she should think twice before coming up to a man who’s clearly with someone else,” he says softly, fingers still on your chin. embarrassment washes over you as you tug your hands out of his grasp and bury your face in them. he chuckles from in front of you, and before you process what’s going on, your world is tilted sideways. the yelp that escapes you is completely involuntary, and when you open your eyes you realize you’re in sebastian moran’s arms, and he’s carrying you back towards the manor.

“why are you carrying me?” your hands wring together, desperately trying to calm yourself down before you pass out from sheer shock and humiliation.

“i heard jealousy makes people do irrational things, so i figured i’d just take you home before you could do any damage,” he speaks with confidence, but it’s not an act this time. and the teasing smirk he shoots you is genuine. so you bury your head in his chest, hands fisting his jacket.

“i’m not jealous,” you speak boldly, but it sounds muffled in his jacket.

“sure you aren’t princess, sure you aren’t,” his laughs are deep, and you whine in protest, the alcohol warming your senses.

“shut up,” you grumble, and you’re only met with more laughs.

“make me sweetheart,” his voice is right next to your ear now, breath tickling you. so you do.

the seventh time he sees you, you kiss him for the first time. you grab him by surprise, hands removing themselves from his jacket to hold his face close to yours as you push your lips onto his. your eyes are squeezed shut, and your face burns with shame as you pull away. it takes all of your self control to not kiss him again with the way he’s gazing down at you, eyes wide, lips slightly swollen from the force of your kiss, and face painted a pretty pink. you bury your face back into his chest, hands finding purchase in his jacket once again.

“keep walking,” your voice is quiet, almost scared to break the silence. moran doesn’t trust his voice at the moment, so he quietly walks back to the manor, grip on your body tightening marginally. the only thing that runs through his head is how soft your lips were against his, and how warm your hands were on his face. he prays to every god that he’ll have the chance to kiss you again.

•••

the fifteenth time he sees you, he’s beyond annoyed. you had deftly avoided him since kissing him, but now he had your cornered in your own room.

“are we just going to ignore the fact that you kissed me the other day and then completely ignored me for an entire week?” his voice is stern, commanding. any other day you’d be fighting a blush at how sexy he sounds like that, but now you’re beyond terrified.

“well that was the plan,” you hope your sarcasm is well received. judging by the way sebastian’s eyes harden and he crosses his arms across his chest, it is most definitely not well received.

“if that was the plan i would’ve appreciated a heads up you know,” his voice is somehow deeper than before.

“well i was kind of drunk so i wasn’t thinking you know,” you stumble over your words, fingers finding your thin golden chain and tugging harshly at it to fight the anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

“so it was a mistake then?” he’s closer to you now, inches away from your trembling body. you don’t know how to answer the question, not knowing if even you knew the answer. sebastian takes your silence as your answer, turning to walk back out of the room. in an ungodly moment of clarity, your only solution is to scream a rushed ‘wait!’ and promptly jump onto his back, your arms wrapping around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. your head is tucked into the crook of his neck, and he just about falls over at the force of you flinging yourself onto him.

“what in god’s name are you doing?” his voice is loud in your ear, and despite his attempts to tug you off of him, you stay wrapped around him.

“getting you to stay!” your line of logic is borderline at best, but that doesn’t matter now.

“what? why?” his hands grip each of your ankles tightly, intending to pry them apart and pull you off of him.

“because it wasn’t a mistake!” you’re consciously aware of the fact that you’re practically yelling in his ear, but it does the trick as his hands stop tugging on your legs. both of you are silent, save for the heavy breaths falling from your mouths.

“get off of me,” he speaks lowly, practically growling. it’s a tone you’ve never heard, and it sends shudders up your spine. you don’t waste a second, nimbly detaching yourself from him and falling to your feet just behind him. you’re positive he’ll walk out and not look back, so when his hands grab your face and he kisses you harshly, you all but pass out on the spot. your hands easily find purchase in his hair, tugging lightly at the roots as he backs you into the wall behind you and pressing his body into yours. his tongue claims every inch of your mouth, hands moving from your face to hold your hips tightly. when he pulls away, both of you gasping for breath, you catch a glimpse of that same soft smile he gave you outside of the bar.

“i thought you were mad at me,” you blurt out, consciously aware of how your hands are still tightly wound in his hair. you’re scared if you let go you may float up and away from him. he laughs lightly, staring down at your wide eyes and mouth slightly agape.

“i couldn’t stay mad at you if i tried,” he confesses, forehead resting against yours. it’s calming, comforting.

“why’s that?” you’re still breathless as you stare at him.

“because i don’t think anyone has ever looked through the front i put up and proceed to call me out on it the first time we met,” his answer is blunt, straight forward. you suddenly remember how panicked he seemed when you two first met. the puzzle pieces click together nicely.

•••

the forty seventh time he sees you, sebastian wakes up to see you peering down at him in bed. he’s hyper aware of the fact that he’s only in boxers.

“rise and shine sunshine!” you’re smiling widely, and the sudden shock of waking up to your face jolts him awake.

“jesus christ why would you do that,” he groans out, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm.

“because you have to do chores today. louis is already annoyed at you, and i’d rather not wake up one day to find you dead because you never did what he asked you,” you say, hands on your hips. he comes to realize how beautiful you look while you stand next to his bed.

“how about you just come join me in bed all day,” he says, reaching out and grabbing your arms. you yelp with the force of being pulled forward and tripping over the end of the bed. you bounce onto the bed, strong arms wrapping tightly around your smaller form. your face grows increasingly warm, hands unconsciously pressed against the firm planes of his chest and head tucked under his chin. you look down on instinct, heart practically jumping out of your chest.

“sebastian! you’re not wearing clothes!” your voice is high and strained. your hands push against his chest, but he keeps you against him, rolling over so that he’s hovering above you with both of your hands intertwined above your head. when you look up, he’s grinning down at you, but it’s completely genuine.

“i have on underwear though. does that count?” he’s teasing, you’re very aware of that.

“that is probably the thinnest piece of clothing you could possibly have on right now. can you please pu-” you’re cut off by his lips on yours. it’s not like his usual kisses that tease you and only rile you up. it’s soft, passionate. he squeezes your hands ever so slightly as he feels you kiss back. everything about it is perfect in spite of his lack of clothes. when he pulls back, your eyes are gleaming in the sunlight pouring through the window, and you have the faintest hint of a smile on your face.

“how about instead, we get you out of all these unnecessary clothes instead,” he offers wiggling his eyebrows at you. neither of you can stop the laughs that follow his words, your eyes crinkling as you’re overcome with a fit of giggles. in the midst of your laughs, you don’t see how sebastian moran stares down at you. you don’t see how his heart beats inexpicably faster. you don’t see how he blushes madly. you don’t see how he’s fallen in love with you.

but it’s okay. because he can’t see the way you’ve fallen for him too.

•••

sebastian moran doesn’t know how to love. his past all but erased any chance for him to form a deep and meaningful connection with anyone. and he’s lived that way for the majority of his adulthood. that is, until the eighty third time he sees you.

he’s woken up to see you trembling in bed beside him, and he knows it’s not from the cold. your shared body heat keeps both of you comfortably warm.

“love? what’s wrong?” it’s still dark outside, probably well into the night. that doesn’t matter as he turns your shaking body to face his, and he sees the gleam of your tears reflecting the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains. he immediately pulls your body impossibly closer to his, smoothing a hand over your hair as you sob quietly into his chest. he waits until you’re calmed down before leaning back to look at your face. his thumb rubs over fresh tears, lips brushing against your forehead as your cries quiet down to occasional sniffles.

“i had a nightmare about the man i used to work for,” you admit, hands trembling between you two. it’s not the first time you’ve had one of these nightmares, but the last time it had happened was weeks ago.

“do you want to talk about it?” his voice is soft, gentle. you’ve come to love how sweet he is, how careful he is of you.

“no. can you just hold me for now?” your eyes are still shining with unshed tears, but he nods and pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and one around your back. he pushes your head onto his chest, your ear lining up just above his heart. he’s found that hearing his heartbeat helps you calm down after the more severe nightmares. he sighs in relief when he feels your breaths come out more evenly, your stiff body relaxing significantly in his arms.

“feel better princess?” you nod at his question, pulling your head back to shoot him a watery smile.

“thank you sebastian,” your voice still shakes slightly, but it’s considerably better than it was before. 

he tried to seduce men and women in bars until he met you. he never cared for anyone until he met you. sebastian moran didn’t know how to love someone until he met you. and now that he’s met you, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to live without you. so when he murmurs those three words that he hasn’t said since he was a young child, he feels tears prick the back of his eyes. because if he can make you smile the way you are right now, tears spilling onto your cheeks and a rushed ‘i love you too’ falling from your lips just so that you can kiss him as hard as you can, he’ll gladly tell you he loves you every hour of every day for the rest of his life.