#red hunter fic

[kmomof4]

To Sir Graham, With Love Ch. 9

We made it, y'all!!! It's the FINAL CHAPTER!!!! Sorry, not sorry for the first several scenes of this chapter... but y'all know me, the happy ending is GUARANTEED, and I have to admit, I'm pretty proud of this one!!!!

Thank you once again to @jrob64 and @whimsicallyenchantedrose for their outstanding beta services and to @motherkatereloyshipper for her BEAUTIFUL artwork above. I really can't stop staring at it!! It's so perfect!!!!

And also happy happy happiest of birthday's @snowbellewells!!!!! I'm BEYOND THRILLED that you loved this fic so much!!!! I hope this last chapter is the proverbial cherry on top of a huge ice cream sundae!!! I'm posting this ch a little early because Marta is home sick today, so I'm hoping this will help her feel better by putting a huge smile on her face!!!

Summary: After a year long secret correspondence, twenty-eight year old spinster Ruby Jones decides to accept Sir Graham Humbert's offer of a visit to see if they might suit for marriage. Unfortunately, he failed to mention that he was the father of twins, and they are not thrilled with Ruby's appearance.

Rating: M (smut and mentions of physical abuse) There is a love scene in this ch, but according to @whimsicallyenchantedrose - who doesn't read or write smut - it's very mild, more smut adjacent than anything, so it is not sectioned off like the scenes in previous chs. If you still want to skip it, stop reading when Graham places Ruby on the bed and pick back up at the next scene change line.

Words: 8k of 68k

Tags: Red Hunter Fic, Birthday Fic, Inspired by Eloise Bridgerton's Story, Smut

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Ch

On Tumblr Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite

@jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779

@kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

… I do not tell you often enough, dear Mother, how very grateful I am that I am yours. It is a rare parent who would offer a child such latitude and understanding. It is an even rarer one who calls a daughter friend. I do love you, dear Mama.

– from Ruby Jones to her mother, Alice, upon refusing her sixth offer of marriage

~*~*~*~*~*~

The ride to Killian and Emma’s was anything but comfortable and by the time Ruby arrived, her foul mood was even worse. And then when Graves opened the door and stared at her as if she was a madwoman, she nearly lost her temper completely. 

Until she noticed the look upon his face.

“Graves?” she asked, when it became clear that he was beyond speech.

“Are they expecting you?” he asked, finally gathering himself together.

“Uh, no,” she said, drawing out the final word. “But I hardly think…”

Graves stepped aside - belatedly remembering himself - finally allowing her entrance. “It’s Miss Alice,” he said, referring to Killian and Emma’s oldest child, only five years old. “She’s quite ill.”

Ruby gasped, something awful rising in her throat. “What is it?” she asked, not bothering to hide her urgency. “Is she…” She couldn’t get the rest of the question out, just letting the words dangle, her meaning quite clear.

“I’ll get Mrs. Jones,” he said, turning quickly and scurrying up the stairs.

“No, wait!” Ruby called, wanting to ask him more questions, but he was already gone.

She slumped into a chair, feeling positively sick with worry for her small niece but also rather disgusted with herself for coming here to complain to her sister-in-law about something that didn’t even signify when compared to this.

“Ruby!”

It was Killian, not Emma that came down the stairs. He looked awful - his eyes red-rimmed, his hair in complete disarray, his skin pale and pasty. Ruby didn’t bother asking how long it had been since he slept. The answer was blatantly obvious. He hadn’t closed his eyes in days.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I just came for a visit,” she explained. “Just to say hello. I had no idea! What’s wrong with her? She was fine last week!”

Killian took several moments to answer. “She has a fever. She woke up fine on Saturday, but by luncheon…” He sagged against the wall, unable to go on. “I don’t know what to do, Ruby.”

“What did the doctor say?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Nothing useful anyway.”

“May I see her?”

Killian nodded, his eyes closed.

“You need to rest,” Ruby said.

“I can’t.”

“You must,” she insisted. “You’re no good to anyone like this. And I’d wager Emma is the same.”

“I made her sleep an hour ago,” he said. “She looked like death.”

“And you look no better,” Ruby said drily. She purposefully kept her tone no nonsense and business-like. Anything softer and Killian would break down completely. And if Killian broke down, she would break down and no one needed that at the moment. “You must go to bed,” she continued. “Now. I will care for Alice.”

He didn’t respond. He was literally asleep while still on his feet. Ruby took charge, directing Graves to get Killian into bed while she took over the sickroom, trying desperately to contain her gasp of dismay when she entered the room and saw her small niece. 

She was so tiny and pale on the bed, but her skin was flushed and her half-lidded eyes were glazed as she thrashed around, mumbling incoherently.

Ruby mopped her brow, turned her, and helped the maids change the sheets when they became drenched with sweat. So focussed was she on her charge, that she didn’t notice when the sun slipped below the horizon. She just thanked God that little Alice didn’t worsen under her care, because according to the servants, Killian and Emma hadn’t left her side for two days straight, and Ruby didn’t think she could survive having to wake them with bad news.

She sat next to the bed, read aloud from her niece's favorite book of Fairy Tales, and told her stories of when her father was a boy. She didn’t think Alice heard a word she said, but it kept her from sitting still and doing nothing. It wasn’t until Emma rose from her stupor around eight that evening and asked about Graham that it occurred to Ruby he might be worried about her. She immediately penned a hastily scribbled note and sent it on to Romney Hall before resuming her vigil. Graham would understand.

~*~*~

By eight o’clock, Graham was forced to the conclusion that one of two things had happened. Either his wife had left him, or she was dead on the side of the road in a carriage accident.

Neither prospect was terribly appealing.

He didn’t think she would leave him. The argument this afternoon notwithstanding, she seemed happy in their marriage and she hadn’t taken a bag with her, but then again, most of her belongings hadn’t yet arrived from London, so she wouldn’t be leaving much behind. Nothing but a husband and two children.

And good God, he’d just told them he thought she was here to stay.

No. She wouldn’t leave him. She didn’t possess a cowardly bone in her body and if she were truly unhappy in their marriage, she’d tell him to his face. Without mincing words and with great vehemence.

Which meant that he’d likely find her on the side of the road. It had been raining steadily all evening and the road between Romney Hall and My Cottage was not well tended to begin with.

Hell, it would be better if she had left him.

But as he strode up the front walk to the door of My Cottage, soaking wet and in a terrible mood, it was looking more like Ruby had decided to abandon him. Abandon them.

“Temper,” he mumbled to himself. Because he’d never been closer to losing his.

Perhaps there was a logical explanation, he thought as he slammed the knocker against the door. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to ride home in the rain. It wasn’t that bad, but it was more than a drizzle. 

Maybe her carriage had broken a wheel. No, Killian would have sent her home in his carriage then. He lifted the knocker again and banged it against the door multiple times.

Maybe…

Maybe…

He tried to think of something, anything, that might explain why Ruby was at the home of her brother instead of her own. He couldn’t think of a one. He reached for the knocker again, prepared to wrench it from the door and chuck it into the rain when the door finally opened. 

Graves stood there, his mouth hanging open in complete surprise.

“My wife,” Graham growled.

“Sir Graham!” Graves, exclaimed.

Graham didn’t move, simply wiped the rain from his face.

“My wife,” he ground out again.

“She’s here,” Graves informed him. “Come in.”

Graham finally stepped inside. “I want my wife,” he said again. “Now.”

“Let me take your coat.”

“I don’t give a damn about my coat!” Graham roared. “Get me my wife!”

“Did you not receive Lady Humbert’s note?” Graves asked.

“No,” Graham informed him. “I received no note.”

Graves nodded. “I thought you’d arrived rather quickly. You must have passed along the road. Let me take your coat,” he said again. “I believe you’ll be here for some time and you will want to be comfortable,” the man said softly. 

A fear he’d never known gripped Graham’s heart. Had something happened to Ruby? He’d just found his children, he couldn’t lose his wife. As he followed Graves up the stairs, his heart and lips murmured silent prayers.

~*~*~

Ruby sat by her niece’s beside, hands clutched in her lap, murmuring, “Please. Please.”

The doctor had left for the second time that day declaring it “in God’s hands.” And if He was the only One Who could do anything about this, then He was the One to Whom she would appeal. When she wasn’t placing cool cloths on Alice’s head, or spooning luke-warm broth between her niece’s lips, that was.

She heard a noise from the doorway and turned to see Graham. Her heart leapt to see him and she flung herself into his arms, heedless that he was soaked to the bone.

“Oh, Graham,” she sobbed, feeling his strong warm arms around her. She was safe and she could finally let go of all the emotions she’d bottled up inside in order to be the rock Killian and Emma needed.

“I thought it was you,” he whispered.

“What?” she asked, drawing back and looking him in the face.

“Graves,” he explained. “He didn’t tell me anything as I was coming up. I thought something had happened to you,” he said, drawing her close again and kissing the crown of her head. “How is she?”

Ruby pulled back and turned toward the sickbed. “Not good,” she murmured.

Graham glanced at Killian and Emma, who’d risen to greet him. They both looked rather not good themselves.

“How long has she been like this?” he asked.

“Since Saturday morning,” Emma replied. Graham approached the bed and placed his large hand on Alice’s forehead.

He shook his head. “I can’t tell. I’m too cold from the rain.”

“She’s feverish,” Killian confirmed.

“What’s been done for her?” Graham asked.

Emma’s eyes widened with a desperate hope. “Do you know something of medicine?” she asked.

“We’ve kept cool cloths on her forehead, fed her broth, and warmed her when she grew too cold. Nothing seems to help,” Killian said hopelessly. Suddenly, Emma collapsed, crumpling to the floor sobbing.

“Emma!” Killian cried, falling down next to her and holding her as she cried. Graham and Ruby both looked away when they realized Killian was crying too.

“Willow bark tea,” Graham whispered to Ruby. “Has she had any?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Why?”

“It’s something I learned at Cambridge,” he said. “It used to be given for pain before laudanum became so popular, but one of my professors insisted that it also reduced fevers.”

Ruby nodded and turned to her brother and sister-in-law. She marched right over and shook Killian’s shoulder.

“Willow bark tea,” she said matter-of-factly. “Do you have any?”

Killian just stared at her blinking for a moment before answering. “I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Mrs. Miner might,” Emma said, referring to one half of the couple that had been caretakers of My Cottage for years. They had all but adopted her when she and Killian were here for nearly a fortnight while he recovered from his own fever after they’d been reunited. “She always has things like that. But they’re visiting their daughter and won’t be home for several more days.”

“Can you get into their house?” Graham asked. “I’ll recognize it if she has any. It won’t be a tea, just the bark. We’ll soak it in hot water. It might help bring down the fever.”

Emma wiped away her tears, her eyes bewildered. “You want to cure my daughter with the bark of a tree?” she asked.

“It certainly can’t hurt anything,” Killian said forcefully. “Come on, Humbert. I have a key to their house. I’ll take you myself.” Before they went out the front door, Killian stopped and looked hard at Graham. “Do you know what you’re about?” he asked quietly.

Graham looked him right in the eyes, and answered as honestly as he could. “I hope so.” He struggled not to squirm under Killian’s scrutiny. It was one thing to allow him to marry his sister, given the circumstances, but it was something altogether different to allow him to pour some concoction down his daughter’s throat.

But Graham understood. He had children, too.

Killian nodded decisively and led him out into the night. As they strode through the rain, Graham could only pray that Killian’s faith in him wasn’t misplaced. 

~*~*~

In the end, no one could really tell whether it was Ruby’s prayers, the willow bark tea, or just dumb luck, but by morning, little Alice’s fever had finally broken and while she was still pale and fatigued, she was without a doubt on the mend.

And by noon, it was clear that Ruby and Graham were no longer needed, and were in fact, just getting in the way, so they loaded into the carriage and began the journey home where they planned to fall into bed to simply sleep.

The first ten minutes of the ride was spent in silence. Surprisingly, Ruby found herself too exhausted to sleep and she couldn’t summon the energy to talk, so just looked out the window at the passing countryside.

It had finally stopped raining about the time Alice’s fever had broken, which may have spoken to the Divine intervention Ruby had prayed for, but as she looked at her husband, who sat with his back against the side of the carriage, his legs stretched out across the bench on the other side with his eyes closed - though Ruby was quite sure he wasn’t asleep - she knew without a doubt that it was the willow bark tea.

She didn’t know how she knew. But she did. And when she thought about the circumstances surrounding the entire situation - Ruby’s uneasiness about Nurse Ratched, the fight with Graham, her flight to My Cottage, Graham coming after her - young Alice Jones was quite the luckiest little girl in all of England.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?” Graham said, his eyes remaining firmly closed.

“For Alice.”

Graham opened his eyes then and met hers. He shrugged. “There’s no way to know. It might not have been willow bark.”

“I know,” she said, with certainty. “You were an answer to my prayers.”

Graham’s lips lifted in a tired smile. “You always do know.”

Ruby smiled back and thought to herself how wonderful it was. Just this. The easy comfort and familiarity of being with someone, that one just knew was right. Right where one belonged.

Ruby reached across and placed her hand on his. “It was so awful,” she said, surprised when she realized there were tears in her eyes. “I can’t imagine what Emma and Killian were going through.”

“Nor can I,” Graham whispered, squeezing her hand.

“If it had been one of our children…” Her voice trailed away as she realized. It was the first time she’d referred to Ava and Nicholas as theirs. 

Graham was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, he didn’t look at her but continued staring out the window. “The entire time with Alice,” he whispered, “all I could think of was how grateful I was that it wasn’t Nicholas or Ava.” He looked at her then, guilt written all over his face. “But it shouldn’t be any child.”

“There’s nothing wrong with such feelings,” she assured him. “They make you a good father. A very good father, I think.”

He looked at her oddly for a moment and then looked down at where their hands were still clasped. “No, I’m not,” he said gravely. “But I hope to be better.”

Ruby’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You were right,” he said, looking back up at her. “About Nurse Ratched. I didn’t want anything to be wrong, so I paid no attention, but you were right. She was beating them.”

“WHAT?!”

“With a book,” he continued, his voice perfectly level. “I walked in and she was beating Ava across the back with a book. She’d already finished with Nicholas.”

Tears of sorrow and anger filled Ruby’s eyes. “I never dreamed. I should have seen. I should have known.”

Graham scoffed. “If I didn’t see in the months she was living with us, how could you have seen when you’d only been there a fortnight?” he asked.

Ruby was silent for a few moments. “I assume you dismissed her,” she said.

Graham nodded. “I nearly threw her out the door myself when she wasn’t moving fast enough.”

Ruby snorted. “If you hadn’t, I would have,” she said.

“I told the children you’d help find a replacement,” he said.

“Of course!” she exclaimed.

“And I…” His voice trailed away for a moment and he looked out the window before he continued speaking. “I’m going to be a better father,” he whispered. “I’ve spent years pushing them away. Always afraid of becoming like my father.”

“Graham,” Ruby cajoled. “You couldn’t possibly be. You are so different from your father.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I thought I could. I got a whip once. I went out to the stable, blindingly angry, and got a whip.” He dropped his head in his hands and Ruby’s heart broke for him. 

“But you didn’t use it,” she said with certainty.

“But I wanted to,” he confessed.

“But you didn’t,” she repeated.

“I was so angry,” he said again, as if he didn’t even hear her, too lost in his own memory. But then he looked at her and something in his eyes was shattered and Ruby wanted nothing more than to gather him close and heal all those jagged edges inside him. To make him see himself as she saw him - a flawed man, yes, but a good and honorable one, too, who’d never hurt his children the way he had been. “Do you understand what it means to be frightened by your own anger?”

Ruby shook her head.

“I’m not a small man, Ruby,” he said. “I could hurt someone.”

“So could I,” she reasoned with him. He sent her a dry look and she shrugged. “Well, maybe not you, but I’m certainly big enough to hurt a child.”

He snorted and turned back to the window. “You would never do that.”

“And neither would you.”

He was silent and understanding dawned on Ruby. “Graham,” she began. “You said you were angry, but… who were you angry with?”

He stared at her, slightly dazed. “Ruby,” he said. “They glued their governess’ hair to the sheets.”

“Oh, I know,” she assured him, “I’m quite certain I would have throttled them myself had I been around when it happened. But that wasn’t my question.” She stopped and waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she clarified. “Were you angry with them about the glue? Or were you angry with yourself because you couldn’t make them mind?”

He didn’t say anything, but that silence told her more than any words could.

“Graham, you are nothing like your father.”

“I know that now,” he said softly. “When I discovered what Nurse Ratched had done, you have no idea how much I wanted to rip her limb from limb.”

Ruby snorted. “I can imagine,” she said. “I would have wanted to do the same.”

Graham felt his lips twitch. There was something comforting and almost funny about their similar thoughts and feelings about the matter. It felt quite good. 

“She deserved nothing less,” Ruby continued. “But you didn’t touch her, did you?” 

“No,” he replied slowly in realization. “And if I could keep control of my temper with her, I could certainly keep control of it with my children.”

“Of course,” Ruby agreed. She patted his hand and then sat back, looking out the window.

She had such belief in him. It was an utterly foreign concept. She truly had faith in his inner goodness, in the quality of his soul, when he’d been wracked with guilt and worry for so many years.

“I’d thought you left me,” he blurted out.

She turned back to him, surprise written all over her face. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Perhaps it was because you left and didn’t come back.”

Ruby rolled her eyes at him. “It’s perfectly clear now why I was delayed, and besides, I’d never leave you. You should know that.”

He raised a brow at her. “Should I?”

“Of course you should!” she exclaimed, her green eyes beginning to flash. “I made a vow on our wedding day, and I can assure you, I don’t take that lightly.” She was silent for just a moment before she continued, her tone and indignation ramping up with each sentence. “And the children! They’ve already lost one mother, through no fault of their own. Did you really think I’d make them go through all of that a second time? You know me better than that.” She turned to him with a supremely irritated expression on her face. “I cannot believe you thought that of me!”

Graham was beginning to think the same thing himself. How could he have thought that of Ruby? He’d only known her… Dear God. Had it really only been two weeks? In many ways, it felt like a lifetime. Because, he was quite convinced, he did know her. Inside and out. And he should have known better than to think she’d abandon their marriage.

It was the panic. That was all. Panic that she might really have been killed somewhere on the road. If that had truly been the case… He wasn’t prepared for the stab of agony in his heart at the thought.

When had that happened? When had she come to mean so much to him? He’d told himself, and her as well, over and over again that he married her to be a mother to his children. But when she’d mentioned the vow and that her commitment to the children was too strong, he’d felt a stab of jealousy.

Jealous. Of his own children. 

He wanted her to want him. Not because she’d made a vow, but because she couldn’t live without him. Perhaps because she loved him. 

Somewhere in the passion - in the intoxication of the pleasure of her touch, the sounds of her moans and gasps, in the force of his own pleasure when he exploded inside of her - she’d touched his heart. And changed it. 

Changed him.

He loved her.

He hadn’t been looking for love. Hadn’t even given a thought to it, but there it was. And it was the most beautiful and precious thing imaginable.

He was at the dawn of a new day. A new chapter in his life. It was both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. He did not want to fail. He couldn’t. Not when he’d just found everything he needed. Ruby. His children. Himself.

It had been years since he’d felt comfortable in his own skin. When he could trust his own instincts. When he could look at himself in the mirror and not avoid his own gaze.

They were pulling up at Romney Hall. A footman appeared to help Ruby down. She turned to him and smiled gently.

“I’m exhausted, and you look the same,” she observed. “Shall we go up and take a nap?”

Graham looked up to the third floor nursery for a moment before turning back to his bride. 

“You go on ahead,” he said. “I’ll be along in a bit. Right now, I think I want to go hug my children.”

Ruby smiled and turned to enter the house.

When she woke, many hours later, she was surprised to see that Graham’s side of the bed was undisturbed. He’d been just as exhausted as she was, but perhaps instead of sleep, he just needed time to himself to think after the difficulties of the last few days.

Just because she didn’t prefer solitude, didn’t mean that everyone agreed with her. It didn’t mean that Graham agreed with her. 

They were two very different people, and if she was going to live with him as his wife, she was going to have to make some concessions to his personality and temperament, just as he was doing the same for hers.

She didn’t see him the rest of the day. Not when she took tea in the afternoon, not when she tucked the twins into bed, not when she ate her lonely supper. After her obligatory two bites of pudding, she got up, not wishing to prolong her meal any longer, fully intending to retire to her bed. But as soon as she left the dining room, she knew she wasn’t ready to sleep yet. 

She walked, somewhat aimlessly, through the house until her feet carried her to the portrait gallery. She hadn’t been inside it since that first night after she’d arrived at Romney Hall. She opened the door and gasped in surprise to see Graham sitting in the chair, just staring up at the portrait of Jacinda with the children.

He gave no indication that he’d heard her. Just continued staring, the look on his face bleak and so full of sorrow that it nearly broke Ruby’s heart.

Had he lied to her when he said he’d never loved Jacinda? Never felt passion for her? No. He hadn’t lied. She knew it in her marrow. 

But what did it really matter? Jacinda was dead. She was in no way in competition for Graham’s affections. And it wasn’t as if Graham loved Ruby anyway. And she certainly didn’t lo…

But in one of those flashes of insight that might as well knock the breath out of one’s lungs, Ruby realized, she did. 

She thought back on the last two weeks - had it really only been two weeks? - wondering when it might have happened. Wondering how it happened. But this feeling she had for him, the affection and respect, had grown into something deeper. And oh, how she desperately wanted Graham to feel the same way.

He may need her - of that she was quite sure, both in the physical aspect of their marriage, but also in the caring for the household and the children - but she wanted him to love her the way she loved him.

She loved the way he smiled, the boyish grin that spoke of secrets and mischief, and as if he couldn’t quite believe in his own happiness. She loved the way he looked at her, as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She loved the way he actually listened to what she had to say and how he wouldn’t let her cow him. She even loved the way he told her she talked too much. Because he always said it with a smile on his face. And she loved the way he still listened to her after telling her she talked too much. 

She loved the way he loved his children. She loved his honor, his honesty, and his sly sense of humor. And she loved the way she fit into his life and the way he fit into hers.

It was comfortable. And it was right.

This was where she belonged.

She loved him. She needed him. Not a dead woman.

As she watched him looking at the portrait, his words from yesterday finally sank in. He’d said he hadn’t laid with a woman in eight years. 

Eight years.

Jacinda had only been gone fifteen months. If Graham had gone without a woman for eight years… Ruby did some mental math. They hadn’t shared any physical intimacy since the twins had been conceived. No, that wasn’t right. It would have been shortly after the twins were born. Just a little bit. 

It was possible that Graham was mistaken about the dates, but somehow, Ruby didn’t think so. She thought Graham knew exactly when the last time was, and now that she’d pinpointed it as well, she realized it must have been a terrible experience indeed. 

But he hadn’t betrayed her. Hadn’t betrayed her or his marriage vows. He’d remained faithful to a woman who’d banned him from her bed. Ruby wasn’t really surprised, given his honesty and integrity, but she wouldn’t have thought less of him for seeking physical comfort elsewhere.

But the fact that he hadn’t… It made her love him all the more.

Ruby stepped forward and cleared her throat. She was surprised when he quickly turned his attention upon her. She’d believed him so lost in thought that he wouldn’t realize he was no longer alone. He held out his hand to her and she stepped toward him and took it, turning with him to face Jacinda’s portrait.

“Did you love her?” she asked quietly.

“No.” And even though she’d asked the question before, and received the same answer, the relief she felt at the simple affirmation was profound.

“Do you miss her?”

“No.” He was silent for a few moments, just continued to stare at her portrait. “She was sad. Always so sad.” Another pause. “It was worse after the twins were born. The midwife said it was normal for women to cry after childbirth, but not to worry. It would disappear in a few weeks.”

“But it didn’t,” Ruby murmured. 

“It was like she sank even further into herself,” he said quietly. “Almost like she disappeared.” His throat worked and his eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to formulate the words he wanted - no, needed - to say. “She rarely left her bed. She never smiled. And she cried. A great deal.” He finally turned to Ruby and looked her square in the eyes. “I tried everything to make her happy. Everything in my power. Everything I knew. But it wasn’t enough.” His eyes filled with tears and Ruby cupped his jaw with her other hand. “It wasn’t enough,” he whispered.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ruby said. She may not have known Jacinda as an adult, but she knew Graham and she knew her words were true.

“Eventually I just gave up,” he admitted, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “I was so sick and tired of beating my head against a wall. All I could do was try to keep the children away from her when she was really bad. They loved her so much.”

“I know,” she assured him.

“She was their mother. And she didn’t… she couldn’t…”

“But you were there,” Ruby said fervently. 

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “And a fat lot of good it did them. How terrible is it to have one bad parent? And my children were born with two…”

“You are not a bad father,” Ruby said, the vehemence in her words surprising even her.

“It hurt so much,” he whispered.

“What did?” 

“When she died,” he explained. “To try so damned hard for so many years and never succeed. To never be able to break through to her.” He turned and looked at her again. “I just needed someone who was happy. Who would be there for the children. Someone who wouldn’t…” He cut himself off and turned away.

“Someone who wouldn’t what?” she asked, sensing that his answer was very important, indeed.

“She didn’t fall in the lake by accident,” Graham whispered. Ruby gasped. He’d told her Jacinda had died in the lake, but she assumed it was an accident. She never thought that her cousin might take her own life. “She walked straight into the water. And I didn’t reach her in time.”

“Oh, Graham,” Ruby breathed. “I’m so sorry.” She was truly, even if Jacinda’s death had made her own happiness possible.

“You don’t understand,” Graham snapped. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t know what it’s like to feel trapped. Hopeless. Stuck. To try so hard and never, ever, break through. I tried. Every single day, I tried. I tried for me. I tried for her. I especially tried for Nicholas and Ava. Everything I knew. Everything everyone told me to do. Nothing worked. I’d try, and she’d cry. I’d try again and she’d do nothing but dig herself deeper into her damned bed and pull the covers over her head. She lived in complete darkness with her curtains drawn and then on the first sunny day in weeks,” he turned to her, eyes blazing, “she goes and kills herself.” He laughed, a short bitter thing. “After all of that, she had to ruin sunny days for me too.” He rose from the chair and looked at the portrait again. “I tried so hard,” his voice, filled with resignation and regret, trailed away for a moment. “And still, every day, I wished I was married to someone else. Anyone else.”

He turned to look at her again, and the tears were gone, replaced with a vehement passion that took Ruby’s breath away. 

“Yesterday you said we had a problem,” he said, taking her hand.

“No, that’s not what I meant…” she tried to interrupt, but he kept speaking as if he didn’t hear her.

“You said we have a problem,” he repeated. “But until you’ve lived through what I’ve lived through - until you’ve been trapped in a hopeless marriage, with a hopeless spouse, until you’ve gone to bed for years wanting nothing more than the touch of another human being…” He looked down at their joined hands and gently rubbed Ruby’s knuckles with his thumb. “Do not tell me that we have a problem. Because to me,” he choked on his words but kept on going, “to me, what we have, this - us, - is heaven.”

“Oh, Graham,” she breathed and threw herself into his arms, her own tears soaking his shirt.

“I don’t want to fail again,” he choked out, burying his face in her neck. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“No, you won’t,” she assured him. “We won’t.”

“You have to be happy,” he said. “Please tell me…”

“I am. I promise,” she vowed.

He pulled back, cupping her chin with his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. Looking for the truth of her words.

“I am happy, Graham,” she repeated, covering his hands with her own. “More than I ever thought possible. And I am proud to be your wife.”

Graham’s lower lip began to tremble and the tears reappeared in his eyes again before they began streaming down his face.

“I love you, Ruby,” he breathed. “And I don’t even care that you don’t feel the same…”

“Oh, Graham,” she cried, cutting him off, and wiping his tears away, even as her own continued to fall. “I love you, too.”

Graham crushed Ruby to him, his lips meeting hers in a passionate dance of love felt and reciprocated. He picked her up, bridal style, his lips never leaving hers and carried her through the halls to their bedchamber.

He lowered her to the bed and pulled back, pulling off his clothes in haste as Ruby did the same.

“I need you, Ruby,” he said, laying down beside her. “I need you like I need to breathe. Like I need food, water.”

“Yes,” Ruby moaned. “I need you, too.” All she could do was reach for him and give herself to him with all that she was. She couldn’t speak, could barely breathe as he touched her, kissed her, sending her higher and higher until her tears couldn’t be held back any longer.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, brushing one away.

“I can’t help it,” she cried, her voice shaking. “I just love you so much. I didn’t think… I’d hoped… but…”

“I know,” he assured her. “I never thought it would happen to me. I think I’ve waited my entire life for you.”

“I know I’ve waited my entire life for you,” she said cheekily. She rolled on her back, drawing her with him until he was nestled between her legs. “Don’t go slowly,” she urged.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said as he surged into her, filling her completely.

They moved together, but it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire. And a tempest. And total reckless abandon. Both of them reaching for that peak that seemed just out of reach, until they reached it together in a cascade of ecstasy that made Ruby arch, lifting them both from the bed with the power of her completion and Graham roar her name as he emptied himself into her.

Ruby collapsed back to the mattress, Graham’s weight pinning her down. Not that she minded in the least. She loved these moments, when they were both too spent to move. She loved the weight of him, the smell and taste of the sweat on his skin after their lovemaking. 

She loved him. 

It was that simple. She loved him and he loved her. And it was all she needed.

~*~*~

The next week would forever be remembered by Ruby as the most magical of her life. Nothing special happened - no birthdays, no unexpected guests, no extravagant gifts. 

But on the inside, everything changed.

The well of happiness was overflowing and seemingly without end. And she could sense the same thing inside of Graham as well. 

She woke one morning, pleasantly sore in all the right places, to see Graham, fully dressed, sitting at the foot of the bed simply watching her.

“Good morning,” she said, sitting up and tucking the sheet around her naked breasts. “What are you doing there?”

“Watching you,” he said, an indulgent smile on his face.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she felt her cheeks heat. “That can’t possibly be very interesting.”

“On the contrary,” he replied, “I can’t think of anything that would hold my attention for so long.”

Her blush intensified and she wondered if perhaps she’d be able to convince him to join her in the bed again. But then she remembered he was already dressed and had probably done so for a reason.

“I brought you a muffin,” he said, holding it out to her. She thanked him and began eating when he spoke again. “I thought we might go on an outing today.”

“Really?” she asked in surprise. “You and me?”

“Actually, I thought maybe the four of us.”

Ruby froze, the muffin halfway to her mouth. To her knowledge, this was the first time Graham was reaching out to his children, rather than setting them aside and hoping someone else would see to them.

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” she breathed. 

“Good,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’ll leave you to your morning routine and inform that poor housemaid that you bullied into being their nurse that we’ll be taking them for the day.”

“I didn’t bully her… exactly,” Ruby protested feebly. Mary hadn’t wanted to take the position of nursemaid, even on a temporary basis, none of the servants had. Ruby couldn’t really blame them after the debacle with their former governess, but for that reason, Ruby had extracted a promise from the twins that they would treat Mary with the respect due to the Queen, and so far they’d held up their side of the bargain. 

Ruby glanced up and saw Graham just standing in the doorway, not moving.

“Graham?” she asked. “What is it?”

He turned to her, his eyes a bit bewildered. “I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing going on in the village today, no fairs or events, I mean. What should we do?”

Ruby smiled gently at him. “Anything at all, Graham. All they want is you.”

Two hours later, Graham and Nicholas were standing outside the Larkin’s Fine Tailor and Dressmaker in the village of Tetbury, waiting somewhat impatiently while Ruby and Ava finalized their purchases inside.

“Did we have to go shopping?” Nicholas whined.

Graham chuckled. “It was what your mother wanted to do.”

“Next time, the men get to choose,” he grumbled. “If I’d known having a mother meant this…”

“We men must make sacrifices for the women we love,” his father informed him, patting him on the shoulder. He looked inside the shop window and saw that the ladies didn’t appear to be anywhere near finished. “But as to our next outing,” he whispered conspiratorially to his son, “I agree whole-heartedly.”

Just then, Ruby poked her head out. “Nicholas, would you like to come in?”

“No!” he said vehemently, shaking his head for emphasis.

“Allow me to rephrase,” Ruby replied, not missing a beat. “Nicholas, I would like you to come in please.”

Nicholas turned pleading eyes upon his father, making Graham chuckle. “I’m afraid you must do as she says.”

Nicholas grumbled under his breath as he climbed the steps, but just before he entered the door, he turned back to his father. “Aren’t you coming?”

Hell no, Graham almost said, but he bit his tongue just in time. “No,” he said instead, “I need to stay out here and watch the carriage.”

Nicholas’ eyes narrowed. “Why does the carriage need watching?”

“Yes, you need to come in as well, Graham,” Ruby said sweetly. Graham groaned. “You need new shirts.”

“Can’t the tailor just come out to the house?”

“Don’t you want to pick the fabric?” she asked.

“I trust you implicitly,” he said. Ruby frowned at him, and Graham sighed. “Very well, I’ll come in.”

“Thank you,” she said, leading them both inside. 

Graham found himself on the ladies side surrounded by bolts and yards of frilly and lacey, sparkly and shiny. He felt about as comfortable there as he did in formal wear.

Ruby kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear. “When Ava comes out, make a fuss.”

“I’m not very good at that sort of thing,” he said quietly.

She smiled up at him. “Learn,” she said just as quietly, then turned her attention to Nicholas. “And now for you, Master Humbert. Mrs. Larkin…”

“I want Mr. Larkin, like Father,” Nicholas protested. 

Ruby looked at him, surprised. “You want Mr. Larkin? The tailor?” she asked. Nicholas nodded. Ruby was silent for a moment, pondering his request and Graham could see Nicholas start to squirm with impatience and anxiety that she might deny him. “Very well then, off you go.”

Nicholas wasted no time at all and all but ran into the other side of the shop. Graham leaned over to his wife.

“You are good,” he praised, whispering in her ear.

A small smile pricked the corners of her lips. “Yes, I am,” she agreed.

Not a moment later, a blood curdling howl reached them and Nicholas ran back in. Straight to Ruby, which left Graham feeling a bit bereft. He wanted his children to run to him.

“He stuck me with a pin!” 

“Were you squirming?” Ruby asked, not bothered in the least.

“No!”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Maybe just a tiny bit,” he said, sheepishly.

“Right then. Don’t move next time,” Ruby said briskly. “I can assure you Mr. Larkin is very good at his job and if you don’t move, you won’t get stuck with a pin. It’s as simple as that.”

Nicholas looked up at his father with pleading eyes, and as nice as it was to be seen as an ally, he couldn’t contradict Ruby in front of his son like that. But then Nicholas surprised him. He walked back toward the other side without complaint and then turned back toward them for a moment.

“Father, will you come with me? Please?”

Graham opened his mouth to reply, but then had to stop, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He couldn’t speak. He was, quite simply, overcome. 

It wasn’t just the moment - the fact that his son wanted him to accompany him in this male right of passage - but it was the absolute confidence and assurance that if he followed his son to the other side, he’d know the exact right thing to say and do when they got there. He wasn’t his own father. He could never be. And with Ruby by his side, he knew he could do anything. Even manage the twins.

Graham laid his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’d be proud to go with you, son.” He cleared his throat of the hoarseness that had crept in, then bent down to his son’s ear. “The last thing we need is women on the men’s side.” Nicholas nodded in agreement. 

Graham rose back up, but before he could take a step, he heard Ruby clearing her throat behind him. He turned toward her, but his gaze came to a stop and his eyes widened as he saw his little girl all dressed up in a lovely lavender frock, showing just a hint of the woman she’d one day become.

For the second time in as many minutes, Graham’s eyes filled with tears. This is what he’d been missing. In his fear, in his self-doubt, he’d been missing this. His children, growing up without him.

Graham patted Nicholas’ shoulder, letting him know he’d be right back, and walked to Ava’s side. Without a word, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. 

“You, Miss Ava Humbert,” he said, his heart in his words, in his smile, in his eyes, “are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

Ava gasped in surprise and blushed under his praise. “But what about Mother?” she asked.

Graham knelt by her side and looked over at his bride, whose own eyes were filled with tears. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, quietly. “We’ll say that your mother is the most beautiful woman in the world, and you are the most beautiful girl. And someday, when you’re all grown up, you can believe that your mother is the most beautiful woman, and I’ll still say that you are.”

And later that night, when he kissed the children on their foreheads and tucked them into their beds, Ava whispered.

“Father?”

“Yes, Ava?”

“This was the best day ever.”

“Ever,” agreed Nicholas.

Graham smiled down at them. “For me as well.”

~*~*~

It started with a note.

Later that night, as Ruby finished her supper and her plate was cleared away, she realized there was a small folded note underneath. Graham had excused himself a few minutes earlier, claiming that he needed to locate a book of poetry they’d been discussing during the meal. So once she was alone, she unfolded the note and read the words contained within.

I have never been good with words.

And then, at the bottom of the paper,

Proceed to your office.

Puzzled, but intrigued, she rose and made her way to her office. There, she found another note in the center of her desk.

But it all started with a letter, did it not?

Then followed instructions to take herself to the sitting room, which she followed, being very conscious to keep a sedate pace instead of breaking into a thoroughly inelegant run. The next note was found on the center of the sofa.

And so if it started with words, it ought to continue with them, too.

This time she was directed to the front hall.

But there are no words to thank you for all you have given me, so I will use the only ones at my disposal, and I will tell you the only way I know how.

This time, she was to proceed to her bedchamber.

Ruby headed up the stairs, her heart thumping in excitement and anticipation. This was her final destination, she was sure. Graham would be waiting for her, to take her hand and lead her into their future.

It had all started with a note. A short, but heartfelt note of condolence, that had led her here. To a love so full and all-encompassing, Ruby had trouble containing it. She reached the upstairs hall and stepped forward toward her room, where the door was just slightly ajar.

She pushed it open with shaking hands and gasped.

For covering the bed were flowers. Hundreds and hundreds of blooms of every variety and color, some clearly out of season, from Graham’s special collection. And written in blossoms of red, against the backdrop of white and pink petals…

I Love You

“Words aren’t enough,” Graham said softly, stepping out of the shadows.

She turned to him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Speechless?” he asked, with a smirk. “You? I must be better at this than I thought.”

“I love you,” she whispered, choking on the words. “I love you so much.”

His arms came around her, and as she rested her head on his chest, his heart beating under her cheek, he rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Tonight the twins said that today was the best day ever,” he said softly. “And I realized they were right.”

Ruby nodded in agreement.

“But then I realized they were wrong.”

Ruby pulled back, a question in her eyes.

“I couldn’t choose a day,” he said, looking down into her eyes. “Any day with you, Ruby. Any week, any month, any hour.” He tilted her chin up and brushed her lips with his gently, but with all the love in his soul. “Any moment,” he whispered. “As long as I’m with you.”

The End

~*~*~

Thank you all for coming along on this journey with me!!! I so hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought!!! Happy birthday, Marta!! Love you!!!

[grandline-fics]

Shifting Focus

DESCRIPTION: The moment they began to see you differently

WARNINGS: None

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Kid, Smoker | Sanji, Law

WORDS: 2,850

A/N: Another part of this in honour of reaching 500 followers. This was my first time writing for Smoker so here's hoping you all enjoy!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

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

SHANKS

Everyone knew Shanks was a flirt, a laidback charmer who always had a smile and a wink at the ready for the next pretty face he came across. No-one was meant to really take it seriously, to see anything that happened to be more than what it was, a fleeting moment of enjoyment for both sides. Serious feelings never truly came into play, it was easier that way given that he was always on the move. To let anyone believe he was the settling down type would have been cruel and he didn’t find any enjoyment in hurting people needlessly, unless they were his enemy of course. Everyone in the crew were more than used to his mannerisms, yourself included. You could understand his worldview on the matter however you never entertained him when he chose to flirt with you. Something that he finally started to notice and when he did, he couldn’t let it go. 

“Do I repulse you?” He asked suddenly one evening causing you to choke on your coffee. Your body tensed and you forced the liquid down your throat, wincing at the painful burn it caused and sharp tightness in your throat. You’d needed it to stay awake for your night shift but after that, you set the mostly untouched mug aside. Looking to your side you saw your captain staring at you intently, a small pout playing at his lips making you believe he was picking his words carefully to seem like he was keeping the conversation light. However underneath the joking you could tell there was a real question there. 

“If you repulsed me Cap, I wouldn’t have joined your crew, now would I?” You answered, looking back down to the sea chart in your hands, needing to keep track of any notable features coming into view. “What is it you really want to ask me?”

“I’ve noticed something about you.” Shanks began, scowling when you looked away from him to continue your work. You were always so task-oriented and levelheaded that even when you were joking with another member of the crew, you were still focused on what was needed to be done. Finally you looked up at Shanks again, eyebrows raised slightly to invite him to keep talking. “You don’t flirt back.” 

For a moment you had to think about what Shanks was getting at but finally you let out a laugh and lightly rolled your eyes. So he was in that kind of mood today. For a moment he almost had you by making you believe he was asking you a semi-serious question. Still smiling in amusement you shook your head and turned to go inside when a wind started to pick up. If you lost the charts in your hand it wouldn’t have been good. What you weren’t expecting was Shanks to follow you, with a sigh you settled down at your desk and sat back to stare at your captain who clearly wasn’t finished with this joke and you weren’t going to get any peace until you indulged him. “Am I being reprimanded for my lack of flirtation towards you, Cap? I’m surprised it’s affected you so much given how you’re never without company.”

“You flirt with the others on board.” Shanks pointed out, not really knowing why it was getting to him so much. Ever since he’d realised you’d joke around and tease the others on board but not him, it just kept gnawing at him. Shanks knew he shouldn’t get so irritated by it all but he just couldn’t help himself. He stepped closer until he was leaning of the edge of your desk, staring down at your calm expression. “So why not me?”

“I flirt with the others because it’s not serious and they know that.” You shrugged lightly, leaning back to regard your captain, a smile slowly pulling at your lips. “You, however are a different story, Cap.” With a breathy sigh you rose from your seat and Shanks’ earlier position meant you were now standing mere inches away from him, not quite touching but close enough for the warmth of your body to radiate into his. “If I gave in and flirted with you…I don’t think I’d be able to stop it as just a joke. I don’t have the same self-control that you do.” You murmured, tilting your head up slightly so your breath could softly dance against his skin. Satisfied that that should be enough for your Captain’s need for the joke to end you took a step back and grinned before sitting down at your desk. 

With your presence no longer engulfing his, Shanks blinked and immediately wanted more. More of that rush, that spark, more of you. However fate had other plans when Lucky Roux called for him and he had to do his duties as the Captain. Sharply letting out a huff of annoyance, Shanks reluctantly left your side to head onto the deck. When he reached the doorway, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder and see your attention already drawn back to your work. Yeah, this was far from over.  

KID

There was never a dull moment on the Victoria Punk. Even on the calm days at sea, the heavy steps of the Captain and the usual tone of conversation was carried at a volume louder than some other ships were used to. But that was what you liked about it. It was only when the ship was deathly quiet outside of sleeping hours that any of you felt the need to worry. The seas were calm and laughter surrounded you all as you sat in the living quarters with plenty of drink to see you all through to morning if you wanted. 

Currently you were all playing a game with the bounty posters you’d all seemed to collect. It was a simple enough form of ‘Kiss, Marry, Kill’ by selecting three posters from the pile however each person that had to answer ended up getting drawn into a fierce debate about their answers. If you didn’t want to answer on your turn however, you had to drink. It was an empty punishment since all of you were drinking happily regardless. 

“Look I stand by my answer okay?!” Wire shouted, unable to keep the grin from his face knowing the argument was in good spirits. “I had the worst draw out of them all so far, you guys have been getting it easy.”

“Just hurry up and pick my three okay?” You grinned, sitting up from your lounged position to get a better look for your turn. Wire reached over to the pile of posters lying face down on the table and picked three at random, slowly flipping them over to reveal Blackbeard, Franky, and Bartolomelo. Grinning you sat back down into your previous position. “Kiss Bartolomelo, Marry Franky, Kill Blackbeard. Easy.”

“Not that I’d argue with the decisions, you just made up your mind so quickly…” Killer noted, a grin in his voice as his face remained hidden by his mask. You rolled your eyes and grinned. 

“Nothing to think about, Blackbeard is…ugh” you suppressed a shudder at the mere thought of the Emperor. “Franky is dependable and skilled, and fun from what we saw when we allied with them so marrying him wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“You didn’t think about Bartolomelo as marriage material?” Kid asked with a grin and you laughed up at your Captain who you’d been leaning against for a majority of the night. 

“No way, he’s a major Strawhat fanboy. I’d be competing against that entire crew for his attention, sadly we just weren’t meant to be.”

“Yeah, you’re real heartbroken about it I see.” Kid laughed along with you and the others. The game continued for another while, some of the crew stopping from being too drunk to stay awake while others began to head for their quarters. Those remaining all agreed this would be the last round and it meant you were to deal out three posters for Kid. 

You were still far too comfortable lounging against your Captain so you quickly reached over, fumbling you flipped over the first three you could get your hands on and flopped back before even seeing who he had to choose from. From the sound of the stifled laughter you could tell his options were going to be good. With an anticipated grin you turned on your side and pushed yourself up with your elbow only to become surprised to see your bounty on the table along with Buggy the Clown and Nico Robin. You couldn’t help but become curious about what your Captain would pick about you although you supposed as long as he didn’t pick you to kill it was all fine, it was just a game after all. 

Kid suddenly felt tense and couldn’t help but look away from your printed face to the physical version of you. The you he suddenly became all too aware of. You’d been part of the crew forever and he’d never needed to see you as anything other than a valued member like the others. What if he said something that made you uncomfortable. But if he didn’t play then you could misread that too and make things worse. Fuck, why was he overthinking this? He had to finish the game and hope nothing more was said about it. “Kill the clown and kiss Robin.” He muttered quickly before looking away and draining the last of the alcohol in his mug. 

“Aww you wanna marry me?” You cooed, the smile growing wider on your face. With everyone satisfied with a good ending to the game, the crew began to clear up their drinks and the bounty posters and move to turn in for the night. You got up with a groan and stretched out your arms, finally feeling the need to rest too. With a yawn you turned to Kid who was still sitting and smiled softly. “Not heading to bed, Kid?”

“Yeah, heading soon.” He grumbled lost in his own thoughts that were now occurring to him and you tilted your head, a frown falling on your lips. Quickly Kid realised you were going to worry and he recovered enough to smirk at you. “We need our rest, right? We’ve got a wedding to plan huh?” He forced the joke out, relieved to see you laugh and leave while wishing the rest in the room goodnight. When you were gone, Kid glared at Killer who was sitting far too relaxed for his liking. “When did you add their bounty to the pile, Kil?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about and you have no way of proving it.” 

SMOKER

“Vice Admiral?” You paused in the middle of the G-5 Base corridor when you spotted the base commander leaning against the wall with his office just a few feet away. At the sound of your call he made no sign that he’d heard you. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for someone of his rank to get lost in thought especially if there were certain higher ups breathing down their neck or certain pirates occupying their minds. Adjusting the documents in your hands you approached the base commander. “Vice Admiral Smoker?” You asked again and moved to lightly touch his arm to get his attention. 

At the same time, Smoker turned sharply and knocked into your hand causing you to drop your files in surprise. As the papers fluttered to the floor you kept your gaze on Smoker, concern growing in your eyes. His usual steely gaze seemed to have dimmed and you noticed the small tremor in his otherwise imposing frame. As one of the base’s medical staff your critical, scrutinising stare was pinpointing all that stood out to you. Since you were dealing with the commander himself, you felt you had to be somewhat nicer and couldn’t just order him to rest. “Are you sick?” You asked and immediately his stare sharpened at the implication. 

“I’m fine.” Smoker’s answer was gruff as to be expected but you could hear the slight shake that could have been missed had you not been listening out for it. When he saw you weren’t fooled he finally took a proper look at you and through his mind that was getting foggier by the second he managed to recognise who you were and what department you worked for on the base. Inwardly he cursed his bad luck. He’d been trying to get to the safety of his office but a dizzy spell hit him hard and he had to stop to catch his breath just mere seconds before you’d approached him. Smoker didn’t want to be babied, getting sick was a rarity for him. He just wanted to get to his room and sit there in peace until he felt a little better. No one else had noticed his state all day, why did he get cursed with bad luck like this at the final moment? He just needed to get rid of you before you tried to take a closer look at him. “Aren’t you going to pick up your documents?”

“Well since you're not sick and are partly responsible for me dropping them. You can surely help me lift them, right Vice Admiral?” Your question was so sweet and innocent but still Smoker glared at the challenge in your eyes. In any of his previous interactions with you, you’d seemed so reserved and quiet but now he could see another side to you. With a grunt, Smoker lowered himself to the floor, trying to fight the wave of dizziness and aches rolling down his body. Mentally he cursed you as you smoothly crouched down and started collecting sheets at a pace far faster than he was able to. When Smoker was focused on the task you’d given him, you struck. Your hand touched his forehead before he could react and you scowled at the man in disapproval. “You’re burning up with a fever. You’re going to your room and resting.” 

Your order left no room for disagreement and before Smoker’s mind could truly catch up, he found himself walking into his room with you. When he was lying on his bed you set about gathering what was needed to help his fever and aches before making yourself comfortable at his desk to fix the scattered documents into their right files again. From the small layer of dust gathering on the surface you could tell Smoker didn’t use it much, being a man of action over paperwork. “You don’t need to stay, I’m fine.” Smoker grumbled. 

“The second I leave, you’ll rest for an hour at most and call yourself cured. I’m not leaving until I’m happy you’re actually fine.”

“An hour is all I need.”

“Didn’t know you had a medical degree.” You noted dryly. “Do I call you Doctor Vice Admiral Smoker or Vice Admiral Doctor Smoker?” It surprised you when Smoker’s deep laugh rumbled through the air and a small smile graced your lips at the sound. Perhaps he should laugh more, it was a nice sound and it would help make him more approachable to some people. 

“You can call me whatever you want.” Smoker mumbled, it wasn’t often people stood up to him like this and he had to admit it was refreshing to see. Unable to fight it, Smoker yawned as his body was beginning to give in to its need for rest. When you heard the telltale signs of him falling asleep you let out a sigh of relief that the medicine you’d given him was started to take effect. 

In the early hours of the morning, Smoker stirred at the soft feeling of fingers lightly running through his hair. It was a comforting feeling and still under the haze of sleep that hadn’t fully left him, his mind hadn’t properly caught up so he let himself relax into the feeling. Reaching up he curled his fingers around your wrist holding your hand in place as his eyes slowly opened and met your face. 

“Your fever’s finally regulated.” You informed him gently, keeping mindful of the time and not wanting to speak too loudly. “If you promise to drink more fluids and stay in bed until at least late morning I can leave.”

“I promise, thanks Doc.” Smoker mumbled with a half-smile, stifling a small yawn and letting his eyes fall closed again but when he didn’t hear you leave he opened his eyes again to see you still standing there. “Problem?”

“Um, kinda need my hand back…or did you want me to stay?” you laughed softly, trying to hold back the grin when Smoker tensed and quickly let go of your wrist, allowing you to leave. “Remember your promise.” You reminded him as you left, smiling to yourself as you left to your room with the memory of Smoker’s blushing, embarrassed expression fresh in your mind. You had to admit it was pretty cute to see. 

[blackseafoam]

I’m too excited about this WIP to not share it, big group shot for the next update! Gonna color this one :)

[mayxo-hxh]

Im about to get controversial.

Out of chrollo, illumi and hisoka, hisoka is canonically the least likely to flirt to get anything he wants, if at all.

A lot of people think he's a natural flirt but I fear I couldn't have disagreed more. He only "flirted" a single time and that was solely to piss off machi, knowing she'd never agree. Hot take? He would've never asked if he knew she'd agree.

Also, bro's the biggest humanphobe in the anime. He keeps his distance from everyone. The only human physical contact he ever made was through fighting people. (If you're a person thats interested in seeing more evidence, I have an entire long thread about it on twitter that I do plan on posting here soon)

so u cannot give me 1 reason for hisoka to flirt with someone at a random bar but chrollo and illumi? i can think of a few.

chrollo, he already canonically flirts to get what he wants. straight up goes on dates gets a suit and shit. he has no reputation among the general public that hes concerned of that isnt the spider. Illumi? He's a manipulator. I HIGHLY doubt he never flirted to get something in his life from people who are too easy to win over. He's someone that wouldn't care what people think of him. He's also anonymous. People have no idea who tf he is anyways. If it affected the zoldyck reputation? Thats a different story.

Hisoka? he would fucking NEVER. Him specifically? HE HAS A REPUTATION. And whats that reputation? That hes an absolute disgusting freak that no one should dare to approach. He kills people. He fights live and makes sure the audience is always disgusted and weirded out by his actions and performances. You look at him and you should immediately look away and pray he hasn't seen you.

So riddle me this. If his entire shtick is making sure everyones afraid of him and avoids him, then why the hell would he get himself a reputation that makes him approachable????

Why would he get himself a reputation that makes you, as a person who only ever heard of him picking people up, want to approach him.

On top of that, I just.. don't see him picking random people up..??? random weaklings that dont even know nen????? he literally treats them like trash that inconveniences his time. You're saying he'd EVER give them the privilege of sleeping with him???

And then you'd say, oh so he'd sleep with strong people! HERES THE THING. Why would he sleep with them..... when he can fight them. Him getting off from fighting comes NOWHERE to actual sex. What people don't understand is that he gets off to killing people and seeing them crumble in front of him when they realize theyre going to die. Torturing people to death. What's... that got to do with like. yknow. actual sex bro 😭😭😭😭😭😭

this turned into a huge rant probably but do you know how genuinely depressing it is seeing a unique character like hisoka that gains lust through FIGHTING and KILLING reduced to. sex addict in fics. Like. be so fucking serious right now. He called himself a FIGHT ADDICT in the manga. Can I see more of him actually spending his time killing and fighting people instead of whatever the hell bros doing with a random npc.

Anyways this is also why I hc him as asexual/demisexual NEXTTTT

[redwinterroses]

There’s a cherry tree in the middle of the redwood forest.

False isn’t sure what to make of that. She shifts her grip on the staff in her hand, its pale glow reflecting faintly off the fresh snow. She’s come out here for resources—the vault altar is demanding logs, and these giant trees are an easy source—but the incongruous sight of an enormous, blossoming cherry tree sending pink petals wafting on the frozen wind…

She wonders if this is what fish feel like, when they see a lure.

“Hello?” she calls, her voice echoing off the trees. The world stands in permanent semi-twilight here, and the deeper shadows hide the mobs that will venture out come nightfall. A sneak of creepers is bedded down in a sweetberry bramble just on the other side of the clearing, and False tenses when the lead boar lifts his head, but he apparently doesn’t deem her worth stalking so early in the day. 

There is no other reaction to her call.

False is of half a mind just to head back home and farm her own dang trees. It’s not like the vaultar is picky about the kinds of logs—she could just as easily grow up a bunch of birch and throw those in there. But that will take so much longer… not to mention she’s not sure if there are even enough saplings in her storage.

She unhooks her enchantment-glittered axe from her belt and pauses to mentally poke at her mana reserves. Plenty high. Whatever’s lingering near this tree, it can hardly be worse than what she deals with on the daily in the vaults. Overworld dangers are barely a challenge anymore.

The logic of that doesn’t change the uneasy feeling that buzzes over her skin though. 

Venturing further into the clearing. False’s gaze traces up the trunk of the cherry tree, following its branches to where they terminate in lush bursts of pink and white blooms. A sweet smell drifts on the wind. She wrinkles her nose, reminded of compost piles and fermented spiders’ eyes. 

The tree’s branches stretch long and low—a canopy of their own, heavy with flowers and dark, glossy leaves. The space underneath is filled with falling flowers and a fog of pollen, the air moisture-thick like a lush cave.

Lifting one hand, False catches a falling petal on her fingertip.

It sizzles as it touches her skin, stinging and buzzing like live redstone.

She hisses through her teeth, shaking her hand and letting the petal fall to the forest floor. “What the heck?”

Another petal tumbles past her face, and she watches it with narrowed eyes—right until it fizzles out of existence a few pixels above the forest floor.

“Glitch,” she mutters. “That’s… not good.”

Iskall needs to know about this—it could be a bug from one of the new updates, or it could be something deeper in the code, but either way: this glitched tree is a problem. She’s probably lucky it just stung her.

She reaches for her communicator, raising it to take a pic of the cherry tree.

“Oh, hi there, False!”

False yelps, spinning around with her axe ready to swing.

Gem is standing behind her, a wreath of cherry blossoms tangled in her hair and antlers, leaning casually on a tall staff of blooming cherry wood. Her smile is wide, and sap flows over her fingers, pale golden, dripping down her arms to leave dark spots on the faded denim of her overalls.

“Gem!” False lowers her axe. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were doing Vault Hunters.”

“Hm?” Gem raises one eyebrow, and for a moment her eyes flicker to red and then purple before settling back on green. “Oh—I’m not doing Vault Hunters, False.” Her voice is amused, almost chiding.

“Oh.” False feels unexpectedly small—which is impressive, considering she’s nearly half a block taller than Gem. 

More of the glitched petals fall, resting on Gem’s hair and slowly melting into it like snowflakes. The brief moment of relief when False had seen Gem’s familiar grin is fading into something like the sensation of freefall. 

“What’cha up to?” Gem asks, and her face blinks from one expression to the next like a bad video message. Her clothes are blue—no, green—no, bloodstained and grey—no, blue. They’ve always been blue.

False takes a step back.

“Uh, not much…” she glances up at the redwoods. “Just doing some… resource gathering. You know.”

“Cool!” Gem giggles, and stands up straight. False tenses, but Gem only spins around her staff and waves a hand at the glitched tree. “I didn’t realize this was an occupied server—are there many people here?”

There’s a buzzing in False’s skull, and she blinks rapidly. A muscle twitches under her eye. 

“Um…”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Gem lifts one hand and grabs one of the lowest branches of the cherry tree. She really should not have been able to reach that.

Swinging herself up with the lithe, effortless strength of a cat, she perches on the limb and stares down at False. The grin is gone from her face now, and she looks down at False with bright eyes.

“Etho’s not here, is he?”

False opens her mouth to answer, the words yes, of course he is, I can take you to him heavy on her lips… And with effort, she swallows them back. 

They taste of sweet rot.

“Why... why doesn’t what matter?” she asks instead.

Gem stares at her for a long moment, expressionless. The flowers woven through her antlers are growing of their own accord, twining up to caress their brethren in the branches overhead. 

Then she smiles broadly, flashing teeth that nearly glow white in the dappled shadows. “Oh!” she exclaims. “No reason! I’m only passing through, is all.”

“You’re not… you’re not sticking around?” False tries—and mostly fails—to sound disappointed.

“Naaaaah…” Gem stands and walks along the branch, as secure and balanced as if it were a stone floor. The flowers in her hair flow along behind her, sliding from the branches and falling like a cape down her back. “Worldhopping is easy. Staying in one spot is way harder.” 

False watches the flowers move and swirl, their smooth, strange motion ensnaring her attention. The buzzing is back, too. Like bees, drunk on honey and sleepy in their hive.

“World hopping…?” she manages. “With admin commands?”

Gem’s laugh is as brilliant as a knife and as sharp as a spark. “False!” she crows. “You say the funniest things.”

False laughs. It seems appropriate. She isn’t sure why.

“Anyway,” Gem continues, fading into one patch of blossoms and reappearing on the other side of it. Her eyes are sprays of cherry flowers now. Her antlers are branches. “Anyway, cherry trees are all the same. They make it easy to get around.”

“That…” doesn’t make sense, False wants to say. But her lips are heavy, and coated in sticky sap. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

“Oops! Behind you, False!” 

Gem’s chirped warning is flaked in glee, and False turns around, as slow as if her feet are buried in soul sand.

The creepers she had seen—the entire sneak—are standing behind her, pink flowers blooming from their eyes. 

“Oh no.”

The boar’s blinded head snaps toward her voice, hissing. He starts to aggro, bioluminescent streaks flashing from his snout to flanks in increasingly-swift pulses of light.

“See ya in season ten, False!” Gem cries out cheerfully.

The axe drops from False’s nerveless fingers, trailing strings of sap. She smells the inescapable stench of burning gunpowder, overlaid with rot.

“...Dangit.”

[FalseSymmetry was blown up by a creeper]

~*~

Jerking upright in her own bed, False swipes wildly at her face, trying to smear away tree sap that isn’t there. 

“What the heck, Gem?” she exclaims at her empty base. Her voice falls flat, swallowed up by the sky that surrounds her builds. The clock above her head ticks impatiently, and she huffs in frustration, pushing up out of her bed. All her tools, gone—her levels, gone... and after all that she still needs those logs for the vault. 

Grumbling, she starts pulling backup gear from various chests, trying to cobble together something that can get her back to the redwood grove before her items despawn—assuming they hadn’t all been obliterated by a second or third creeper explosion. She glances at the vaulter, and freezes.

It’s been completed. The crystal floats gently atop the stone pedestal, gleaming with an inner light. 

And, tumbled at the base of the vaulter—abandoned, more than was needed to fill the crystal’s requirements:

Half a stack of cherry logs.

[lythecreatorart]

Ummmmm soooooooo

I just found a red eyes Dib and have to draw with Seekers from @the-galactic-hunters bc why the fuck not-

I still haven’t read Your Eyes are Red yet, I kinda just been reading through the post by @paynomindtotheinsanity and my impulsive brain won I guess XD

Under here is just behind the scene shenanigans of me just try very hard to not go on another Fic rabbit hole bc I already have Hunters brainrot

Enjoy XD

Anyway

ow my hand- still recovering

[sparklepocalypse]

It is Wednesday again, my gender-neutral dudes! Many thanks to @myheartalivewrites, @ninzied, @thesleepyskipper, @orchidscript, @cha-melodius,

@thinkof-england, @energievie, and @kiwiana-writes for the tags!

Today's chunklet of fic comes from my @aroyallybigbangrwrb fic. (I'm trying to redirect my muse back to this document so my poor artist has something of substance to illustrate.) The chunklet and additional tags are behind the jump!

Nora's face does something odd then, with an expression too quick for Alex to read. “Speaking of your next bounty, a fancy gent came in here early this morning, looking for you. He's a real refined type, so I thought it was odd that he wanted you, of all folks.” “That joke’s just as funny every time you say it,” Alex says dryly. “I know, it’s a real knee-slapper,” Nora agrees, grinning. “Told him you were asleep, and he left this for you. Real hush-hush — so of course I opened it. For your safety, mind.” Alex rolls his eyes. “Course. My safety.” “Feller said you were personally recommended for the job.” She hands over the sheet of paper, and he flips it over. It’s a handbill with $25,000 REWARD emblazoned across the top. Alex whistles softly; a bounty like this could set him up for years. He continues reading. For information leading to the whereabouts of His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales. Beneath this is a print of a tintype depicting a young, downright pretty man with light hair, full lips, and a troubled look in his eyes. Hard telling, though, whether the troubled look is from having to sit so still for the tintype or something deeper.

No-pressure tags for @priincebutt, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @duchessdepolignaca03, @cactusdragon517, @bigassbowlingballhead,

@happiness-of-the-pursuit, @anincompletelist, @faketrex, @writes-in-space, and @firenati0n this fine humpday. Show me what you've been working on! (Or don't, I'm cool if you don't have the spoons.) And of course, the tag is open to anyone else who might want to snag it!

[kybercrystals94]

Just a Scrap of Fabric

Read on Ao3 here!

By KyberCrystals94

Whumptober 2023|Day 12|Prompt 12: Red

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Bloody Nose

Rating: G

Words: 582

Summary: Hunter gets his bandana.

One day, when the Batch were biologically 9 years old, Hunter walked into their barracks with his wild mane of regulation spurning hair neatly corralled by a strip of red fabric. Three pairs of eyes studied him unabashedly. Hunter pretended he didn’t notice. No questions were asked, no answers were given. And that was that. Hunter wore a bandana now.

Months passed, and the memories of what Hunter looked like without his red bandana faded. Which is why it was all the more shocking when he came into the barracks, minutes before lights out, without the now familiar bandana. But he did have the shadow of a developing black eye and a bloody nose. Hunter avoided making eye contact with his brothers as he made for the fresher.

Crosshair caught him. “Hey! What happened to you?”

“I’m fine,” Hunter growled. He tried to shove past Crosshair, but Crosshair merely grabbed him by both shoulders and steered him to sit at the table.

“Tech, get the first aid kit,” Crosshair said.

“I said I’m fine!” Hunter protested, but his eyes were becoming shiny and red, a figurative and literal bruised scowl twisted his expression.

“And I say you’re a karking liar,” Crosshair snapped back as he dug through the kit Tech meekly provided. “Are you gonna tell us what happened?” He handed Hunter a wad of gauze.

Hunter puts the gauze under his nose, voice muffled behind it. “Just some stupid regs.”

“Why’d they do it?” Wrecker asked, his stuffed tooka, Lula, clutched in his fists.

“It doesn’t matter why,” Hunter said.

Crosshair activated a cold pack and holds it against Hunter’s swollen left eye.

“It matters to us,” Tech said.

Hunter lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Regs don’t have to have a reason.”

“But these ones did,” Crosshair pressed.

A chime sounded, giving the one minute to lights out warning.

“It’s too late to talk about it now,” Hunter declared. He took the ice pack from Crosshair. “Go to bed.”

Glances are exchanged, but four cadets climb into their bunks without another word.

“They took his bandana!” Wrecker cried.

“That is true in all likelihood; however, there’s nothing we can do about that now. Hunter won’t tell us who the regs are,” Tech added.

“And even if he did,” Crosshair said, “it’s not like they’d give it back.”

Wrecker jumped up from the table where the secret meeting concerning Hunter was being held. “We should get him a new one!”

“From where. We don’t even know where he got the first one,” Crosshair grumbled as he picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his red cadet uniform.

Tech watched him for a moment then smiled. “I have an idea.”

Hunter was surprised when he returned to the barracks and found it empty. His eyes drifted over the room, searching for any clue where his brothers might have gone to. That’s when he saw a burst of red fabric on his bed.

He picked it up, a long strip of fabric hemmed with neat, even stitches. The same kind of stitches Crosshair used when he’d repaired tears on Lula.

A new bandana.

Not the worn, raggedy piece of fabric he’d found in a bin.

Hunter smiled and ran to the fresher, tied the bandana around his head and admired it in the mirror. It was perfect.

When his brothers returned a few minutes later from wherever they were, no questions were asked, but three barely contained smiles was answer enough.

END

Author’s Note: Just a little, fluffy one-shot with a pinch of whump. ☺️

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista

✨Let me know if you’d like to be on my tag list!✨

[zazter-den]

Unlucky Landings

Hunter Kirishima x Handler Reader (Monster Hunter World AU)

"Sat down with your partner yet?"

No. Kirishima groaned into his tankard, hoping the woman across the table couldn't see the sheepish look on his face. With how busy the past few weeks were with sailing, and getting ready to build the village of Astera- he hasn't actually found a good time to talk to you alone. Over the course of the journey across the sea, it was rare to see you without a pack of scholars at your heels needing your expertise. Somehow that only made his newfound nerves even worse around you. He looked over at the table where you were sitting with a mountain of food and a pile of food to match. Welp, he definitely can't disturb you now. Taking another swig of ale, he looked up with a guilty grin at the serious looking Handler who had posed the question.

"I will. I mean, we've got awhile before landfall- right?"

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 12 - Hunter's Moon (JJBA Vampire Hunter AU)

More Vampire Hunter AU for today's @whumptober fic! This one can be read by itself, but if you are following the series, there will be spoilers for anyone who has not read through "Humanity and Eternity"

Bucciarati and Abbacchio decide to go on an easy hunt to ease into Bucciarati's new vampiric condition, however, their quarry proves more dangerous than they thought, leaving Bucciarati gravely injured, and Abbacchio with a choice to make.

~~~~~~~

Prompts Used: Red, (alt. prompt 8. Hunting) Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character: Bucciarati

~~~~~~

Excerpt:

Bruno was shivering violently by the time Abbacchio finished cleaning up, washing blood off his hands. He moved Bruno away from the wet hay and tried to make him comfortable, helping him put his shirt back on to offer a little extra warmth.

"Are you cold?" he asked lamely.

"Mm," Bruno murmured. "Seem to be."

Abbacchio pressed his lips together firmly, and took his own coat off, wrapping it around the other Hunter who glanced up at him gratefully, huddling under the warmed garment.

"I doubt I'm really…going anywhere," Bruno murmured. "So…if you want to chance it alone…you can go. I'll be fine."

Leone glanced down at him skeptically, pressing the back of his hand against Bruno's forehead and finding it extremely clammy. "You really are cold," he said in surprise and sat down next to Bruno, pulling him in against his side in an attempt to share his own body heat. Bruno grunted in protest at the jostling, but huddled closer appreciatively.

"There's no point in running into the woods for it," Abbacchio muttered. "It knows better where it's going in there. "We'll wait to see if it comes out again tonight and then shoot it."

Bruno sighed, opening his eyes to look up at him. "I'm sorry, I should have been more careful."

"It surprised you, we should have stuck together."

Bruno tensed briefly as a wave of pain went through him before he said tiredly, "I'm still…I'm trying to find the happy medium between knowing I'm physically stronger now, and actually utilizing that in a way that I am not continuously throwing myself into harm's way."

"Oh, so it took you until you become a damn vampire to figure that one out?" Abbacchio asked, not without a little exasperation.

"I suppose that is what got me into this situation in the first place," he replied, then let out a soft moan, curling further into himself. "God."

Leone watched helplessly as the injured Hunter shuddered in pain, breathing through his nose as cold sweat beaded on his brow.

"How bad?" Abbacchio asked quietly.

Bruno let out a shuddering exhale. "Feels like…'m still being ripped…apart." He swallowed hard, eyes squeezed shut as he curled further into himself, heavy against Abbacchio's side.

Leone hesitated slightly before he reached out to rub Bruno's back, trying to soothe, but he knew the other man had to be in a hell of a lot of pain right now.

And he wasn't going to get better this way either. He wouldn't be able to heal himself when he was already so weak. Which…left a question Abbacchio really didn't want to think about, but it needed to be addressed all the same.

"You need blood, don't you?" he finally asked.

Bruno let out a wry, helpless laugh. "It would help. It's hard…to think of that still." He cringed, swallowing down another whimper as he pressed his face into Abbacchio's side. "Blood should help me heal faster though."

"You know you shouldn't feel bad to ask for it," Leone said, though he couldn't keep the discomfort out of his voice. The thought that Bucciarati literally needed to drink blood to survive was still a lot for him to grasp. But he was sure that it was even worse for Bruno so he tried not to let it show.

Bruno looked up at him, red eyes clouded with pain. That was still the hardest thing for Abbacchio to get used to. The fact that he would never see his friend's blue eyes again, evoking so much emotion, either compassion or steely anger. But maybe all of that was still there. He just…didn't like to spend a long time searching.

"I think the farmer might owe us a sheep for our trouble." Bruno replied with a light chuckle that turned into a cringe. "We could say…the dog got it."

"You're going to try to wrangle a sheep in your condition?" Abbacchio asked. "Buggers kick, you know."

Bruno was silent, seeming to consider it. "I don't see another option," he said quietly.

Abbacchio felt a twist in his stomach, because the obvious answer was right in front of them. This was literally the last thing he wanted to suggest, but wasn't it kind of part of the job?

Bruno shifted to try and find a more comfortable position, a choked gasp escaping him. He pressed a shaky hand to his stomach, before pulling it away with fresh blood coating his palm. Leone's heart sank. He was still bleeding, and the more blood he lost…

He took a deep breath weighing his own discomfort against the discomfort the other man was obviously feeling. And coming to the conclusion that he was being a damned idiot. If he could offer any aid to his friend right now, then it was Leone's job to do so.

"If…" he hesitated, biting his lip briefly before he forced himself to continue. "I don't mind," he finally spat, then forced himself to clarify. "If you need to drink my blood."

~~~~~

Read on the whole story on:

Ao3 FF.net

Check out my Whumptober Masterpost HERE for more stories!

If you want to follow me on other social media or ask about commissions, find my info on My Carrd

[regaliasonata]

Welp, time to write about these two

[kmomof4]

To Sir Graham, With Love Ch. 7

And we are back!!! It is time for Ruby's family to meet Graham's children... and to get a wedding scheduled!! Thank you all for coming along on this journey with me! I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think!

We don't actually see the wedding, but we do have the wedding night in this chapter, so the smut is again bracketed off by a double scene change line like in the last chapter. But that said, there are some very important happenings between Graham and Ruby in the middle of the scene, that I don't think you should miss. So if you are skipping the actual smut, stop reading at the first double scene change line...

~*~*~

~*~*~

then resume reading when they are repeated (this is the important scene I don't want you to miss), then stop again when they are repeated again. I hope that all makes sense. If it doesn't, please feel free to message me.

Once again, all the love and long distance internet hugs to @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose and @motherkatereloyshipper for their betaing expertise and gorgeous artwork, respectively!!

And also, happy birthday to @snowbellewells for whom this fic was written!!

Summary:

After a year long secret correspondence, twenty-eight year old spinster Ruby Jones decides to accept Sir Graham Humbert's offer of a visit to see if they might suit for marriage. Unfortunately, he failed to mention that he was the father of twins, and they are not thrilled with Ruby's appearance.

Rating: M (smut and mentions of physical abuse, both in this chapter)

Words: 7500 of 68k

Tags: Red Hunter Fic, Birthday Fic, Inspired by Eloise Bridgerton's Story, Smut

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

On Tumblr Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite

@jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779

@kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

I grant that Mr. Wilson’s face does have a certain amphibious quality, but I do wish you would learn to be a bit more circumspect in your speech. While I would never consider him an acceptable candidate for marriage, he is certainly not a toad, and it ill-behooved me to have my younger sister call him thus, and in his presence.

– from Ruby Jones to her sister Tilly, after refusing her fourth offer of marriage

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, Ruby, Liam, Killian, and Emma traveled to Romney Hall for lunch. David and Henry had returned to London, deciding their elder brothers had the situation well in hand and no longer needed their presence. Ruby was glad of their departure, if she was honest. She loved all of her brothers dearly, but to be subjected to the four of them all at once was quite more than anyone should be expected to endure.

She was feeling quite happy and optimistic as she stepped down from the carriage. Yesterday had gone far better than she expected. Even if Graham hadn’t taken her into Emma’s office to prove to her that THEY’D SUIT (she’d never be able to think those words again without seeing them in all capital letters in her mind's eye), he’d gone on to prove himself against all four of her brothers in the shooting match. She was reluctant to admit, even to herself, that she’d never be able to marry a man who wasn’t equal to the four Jones men, and Graham had acquitted himself admirably, leaving Ruby very proud of him.

She still had reservations about the marriage itself - the fact that they didn’t love one another would tend to do that - but they at least did share respect, affection, and passion. That last thought brought a blush to Ruby’s cheeks. It may not be a firm foundation for a marriage, but she thought, a wicked smile curving her lips, it certainly didn’t hurt.

He would make a fine husband, she was absolutely sure. And she could only hope that time would bring her the love match she so longed for.

~*~*~

Graham glanced at the clock on the mantle for about the fifteenth time in as many minutes. The Joneses were due at half noon, and it was now thirty-five past the hour. Not that five minutes was terribly tardy, but it was so hard to keep Nicholas and Ava neat and presentable as they waited with him in the drawing room for their guests.

“I hate this jacket,” Nicholas complained, tugging on the too short sleeve.

“It’s too small,” Ava commented, matter-of-factly.

“Of course, it’s too small,” Nicholas shot right back. “That’s why I was complaining. Your dress is too small too,” he observed. “I can see your ankles.”

Ava turned alarmed eyes to her father. “You’re supposed to be able to see my ankles,” she gasped.

“Not so much of them,” Nicholas huffed.

“You’re eight,” Graham said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “Your dress is perfectly suitable.” At least, he hoped it was. He knew blessed little about such things. But Ruby would know. She would know and she would handle all the things involved in the raising of children. She would know when girls should start wearing their hair up and whether boys should attend Harrow or Eton. Thank God.

“I think they’re late,” Nicholas announced.

“They’re not late,” Graham replied without thinking.

“Yes, they are,” his son insisted. “I can read the clock, you know.”

He didn’t know, and Graham sighed at that knowledge. It was rather like the swimming thing.

Ruby, he reminded himself. No matter his failings as a father, he was convinced that he was now doing the exact right thing for his children, marrying Ruby. The sense of relief at that knowledge could not be overstated.

Ruby. 

She couldn’t get here soon enough. He sighed. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t marry her soon enough. How did one go about getting a special license anyway? Surely Liam would know. Weren’t weddings supposed to take place on Saturdays? That was only two days away, but if they could get that special license… 

Graham blessed his quick reflexes when Nicholas made a dart for the door and Graham grabbed him by the collar before he could go two steps.

“No,” he admonished his son. “You will wait here for Miss Jones and our other guests. You will do it without incident and with a smile on your face. Do I make myself clear?”

The twins were silent as he stared them down, but Nicholas at least made an attempt to smile, though the results were somewhat lacking.

“That’s not a smile,” Ava informed him.

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t. Your lips didn’t even curve up at all,” she said, demonstrating by using her fingers to push up the corners of her own lips.

Graham sighed. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough. He’d speak to Liam this afternoon about the special license. He could turn the twins over to Ruby during the day, and she could turn herself over to him at night, he thought, a true smile touching his lips.

“Why are you smiling?” Ava asked.

“I’m not smiling,” he protested automatically. The words were barely out of his mouth when he could feel himself - dear God - he was blushing.

“Yes, you are,” she argued. “And now your cheeks are pink. Aren’t Father’s cheeks pink, Nicholas?”

“Your cheeks are pink, Father,” Nicholas agreed.

Graham blew out a short breath and glanced at the clock again. At that moment, Ava swung her legs from where she sat on the sofa and knocked over an ottoman. 

“Oops,” she said, jumping down to right it. “Nicholas!” she howled from her place on the floor where she’d fallen when her brother had pushed her. “He pushed me!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did…”

“Well someone pushed her,” Graham interrupted, glaring at Nicholas, “and I’m certain it was not me.”

Nicholas pressed his lips into a thin line as he cut his eyes to his father and then his sister. He obviously hadn’t considered that being one of only three people in the room, his culpability would be rather obvious.

“Very well,” he admitted. “I pushed her. I’m sorry.”

Graham was stunned speechless. It was the first time he’d ever heard an unsolicited apology from one of his children for any kind of infraction.

“You can push me back,” Nicholas offered.

Oh no. No, no. Very bad, Graham thought. Very bad, indeed.

“Ok!” Ava agreed brightly. Graham couldn’t get to them in time. It was only a moment later that Nicholas was toppled over the back of an ottoman and Ava was squealing with delight while Nicholas howled in indignation.

Visions of the drawing room completely destroyed raced through Graham’s mind as he grabbed Nicholas by the collar and hauled him to his feet.

“She pushed me!”

“Because you told her she could, you miserable little wretch!” Graham shouted. Nicholas darted away from him after his sister, and Graham caught him just as he caught Ava, bringing them all to the floor with a crash of the mantle clock and two cushions off the sofa as well. How they’d managed to bring down the clock, he’d never know.

“Nicholas did it,” Ava accused.

“I don’t care who did it,” Graham said, standing up and dusting himself off. “You know that Miss Jones is due any moment…”

“Ahem.”

Graham shut his eyes and sighed before turning slowly around - dismayed, but not surprised - to find Ruby, Liam, Killian, and Emma standing in the doorway.

“My lord,” he grit out. He was too curt, not the gracious host he meant to be in the least, but he couldn’t help himself. He was too frustrated with his children to be otherwise.

“Are we interrupting?” Liam asked mildly.

“No, not at all,” Graham rushed to reassure them. “As you can see, we’re simply, ahhh… rearranging the furniture.”

“And doing an excellent job of it,” Emma said, brightly with a gentle smile for the twins. She seemed the sort to always be trying to make everyone around her at ease and right now, Graham could have kissed her for it.

He rose, righting the overturned ottoman as he did, and motioned his children to stand to their feet. Nicholas’ cravat was completely undone, and Ava’s hair clip hung loosely by her ear.

Once they were both facing their guests, Graham spoke with as much dignity as he could muster. “My lord, may I present my children, Nicholas and Ava Humbert.”

The children murmured their greetings, looking as uncomfortable as Graham felt. Perhaps they were ashamed of their abominable behavior, as unlikely as that seemed, but Graham couldn’t help but hope.

Once they’d fallen silent, Graham patted them on the shoulders. “Very good, children,” he praised. “You may run along now.”

They turned to him with matching forlorn expressions. “Can’t we stay?” Ava asked in a small voice.

“No,” Graham said immediately, and forcefully. He’d invited the Joneses for lunch and a tour of the greenhouse, and if the day was to be a success, the children couldn’t be anywhere near.

“Please?” Nicholas pleaded.

Graham was very conscious of his guests witnessing his woeful lack of control over his own children, so he was careful to avoid their gazes. “Nurse Ratched is waiting for you in the hall.”

“But we don’t like Nurse Ratched,” Nicholas said, Ava nodding in agreement next to him.

“What are you talking about?” Graham asked impatiently. “Of course you do. She’s been your nurse for months.”

“But we don’t like her,” Nicholas insisted. 

Graham sighed, and looked over at the Joneses. “Please excuse the interruption,” he said.

“It’s no bother, truly,” Emma said with a gentle, maternal smile.

Graham guided the children to the far corner of the room, crossed his arms, and stared down sternly at them. 

“I have asked Miss Jones to be my wife,” he said. Their eyes lit up. “Good,” he continued before either of them could get a word in edgewise. “I see you agree with my action.”

“Will she…”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he said sternly. “Now listen. I have asked Miss Jones to be my wife, but I still have to win the approval of her family, and I can’t do that with you two underfoot.” It didn’t really signify that Liam had all but ordered the wedding and approval was no longer an issue. Entertaining his guests with the children around was a futile endeavor.

Ava’s chin trembled, tears shining in the corner of her eyes. “Are you ashamed of us?”

Graham raised his eyes to heaven wondering just how it had come to this.

“May I be of assistance?” The voice of his savior reached him and Graham turned toward where she stood right behind him, grateful acceptance in his eyes. He watched as she kneeled down and spoke gently to them. Her voice was too low to discern her words, but the tone was unmistakable.

Nicholas said something in protest, but Ruby cut him off, still gently, but firmly. It was only a moment later when, to his great surprise, the children said their goodbyes and left the room. They didn’t look happy about it, but at least they did it.

“Thank God I’m marrying you,” Graham said under his breath as Ruby rose to her feet.

“Indeed,” she whispered, a secret smile on her face as she rejoined her family. 

“I do apologize for the children’s behavior,” Graham said when he reached them right behind Ruby. “They’ve been hard to manage since their mother died.”

“There is nothing more difficult than losing a parent,” Liam said solemnly, “Please, do not feel any need to apologize on their behalf.”

Graham nodded his thanks for the understanding of the older man. “Come, let’s enjoy lunch.”

As he led them into the dining room, Nicholas and Ava’s faces loomed large in his mind. He’d seen his children stubborn, in full fledged tantrums, and insufferable, but he’d never seen them sad since their mother died. It was most troubling.

After lunch and a tour through the greenhouse, the group split in two. Killian had brought with him a sketch book, so he and Emma stayed near the house while he drew the exterior of Romney Hall. Liam, Graham and Ruby took a walk along the grounds, Liam very graciously allowing them to tarry several yards behind so they might speak in relative privacy.

“What did you say to the children?” he asked immediately.

“I don’t know actually,” she replied. “I just tried to act like my mother.” She shrugged. “It seemed to work.”

He was silent for a moment, thinking about her words. “It must be nice to have parents one can emulate.”

“You didn’t?” she asked gently.

“No.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. 

“Was it your father or your mother?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Which of your parents was so difficult?” she pressed.

He stared at her for a long moment, before his brows furrowed and he answered her. “My mother died at my birth.”

“I see,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. They continued along, walking slowly, wanting to make sure they remained far out of Liam’s earshot. When they turned back toward the house, Ruby stopped and asked the question that had been plaguing her mind all day.

“Why did you take me into Emma’s study yesterday?”

Graham sputtered and stammered, his cheeks turning pink at her blunt question. “I should think the answer was rather obvious.”

Ruby glared at him. “Obviously it isn’t, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

Graham stared at her for a full ten seconds before he cut his eyes to where Liam stood investigating a birch tree and then moved closer to Ruby.

“Very well, if you must know,” he began, his voice low, “I intended to kiss you to show you how well suited we are.” He shrugged. “I did not intend to get so carried away, but I’m not sorry it happened.”

“But passion is not enough to sustain a marriage,” she replied, forcefully.

He shrugged again. “It’s certainly a good start. May we please talk about something else?”

“No. What I’m trying to say…”

This time he rolled his eyes and snorted. “You’re always trying to say something.”

“It’s part of my irresistible charm,” she said peevishly.

He looked down at her, holding on tightly to his patience and temper. “Ruby, we are well suited and will enjoy a perfectly pleasant and amiable marriage. I don’t know what else I can say or do to prove it!”

“But you don’t love me,” she said quietly.

That brought him to a screeching halt. He stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “Why do you say things like that?”

She shrugged and couldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. Because it’s important, I guess.”

“Did it ever occur to you that not every thought has to be given voice?” he asked after another long moment.

“Yes,” she said, a lifetime of regret - of always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time - wrapped up in that one tiny little word. “All the time. I can’t seem to help myself though.”

He stared at her, his confusion obvious. She understood completely. Her mother had always told her she’d catch more flies with honey than a sledgehammer, but Ruby had never mastered the skill of keeping her thoughts to herself.

She had all but asked Graham if he loved her, and his subsequent silence was more of an answer than no would have been. Her heart wept. She didn’t really expect him to fall in love with her so quickly, but her disappointment was proof that a tiny corner of her heart and mind had wished for exactly that.

“Did you love Jacinda?” She winced as soon as the words left her lips. There she went again, speaking before thinking about the wisdom of her words.

Graham stood before her, silent. “No,” he finally said in a low voice.

None of the expected feelings at the single word rose up within her. Not joy, that her intended hadn’t loved her predecessor, nor sadness that her cousin’s husband hadn’t loved her. She simply felt relief, which was a surprise. She wanted to know. That was all. She hated not knowing. About anything. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Why did you marry her?”

His face was rather blank as he looked at her. Finally he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It was expected, I guess. She was to marry George.”

Ruby’s head turned so sharply, she was surprised her neck didn’t crack. “I - I didn’t know.”

Graham shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

Ruby nodded in understanding. It wasn’t terribly surprising. He was the type of man who’d do that - always doing what was right and honorable, apologizing for his perceived transgressions, shouldering others’ burdens… honoring his brother’s promises.

Which brought her to her final question. “Did you…” she trailed away, almost losing her nerve. “Did you feel passion for her?” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, and she found herself hoping he hadn’t heard her.

“No,” he said abruptly before turning away and walking quickly toward the house. She rushed to catch up with him and ran into his solid chest when he suddenly stopped and turned back toward her. “I have a question for you.”

“Of course,” she agreed quickly. It was only fair, after all. She’d all but interrogated the poor man.

“Why did you leave London?” 

Ruby blinked in surprise. She expected a much harder question than that. “To meet you, of course!”

“Balderdash.”

She blinked again, her mouth falling open at his obvious disbelief of her answer.

“That’s why you came,” he said, “not why you left.”

It had never occurred to her until this very moment that there was a difference between the two, but he was right. He’d had very little to do with why she’d left London. He’d simply made it easier for her to do so. He gave her a place to run to, which was much easier to justify rather than where she was running from.

“Did you have a lover?”

Ruby’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened in shock. “No!” she exclaimed, so loudly that it caught Liam’s attention, who started quickly toward them. Ruby waved him away. “Everything’s fine. I promise.”

“It’s not an unreasonable question to ask,” Graham said mildly, once Liam was back out of earshot. “You leave London in the middle of the night, like a wanted fugitive. I simply wondered if perhaps something had happened to ah… tarnish your reputation.”

He was right, of course. Not about her reputation, which was still as pure and white as snow.  It did look odd. Frankly, she was surprised he hadn’t asked her sooner.

“If you did have a lover,” he continued quietly, “it wouldn’t change my intentions.”

“No,” she assured him. “It wasn’t that.” She sighed and after another moment to fortify herself, told him everything. 

She told him all about the marriage proposals she’d received, and the ones Mary Margaret hadn’t, and the plans they’d jokingly made about growing old and spinsterish together. And she told him about how guilty she felt when Mary Margaret and David got married and she couldn’t get her mind off of herself and how alone she was.

She told him all that and more. She told him things in her heart, in her mind, in her soul. She told him things she’d never told another living soul, not even Mary Margaret. And for someone who couldn’t keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it, there was an awful lot inside her that she’d never shared with anyone.

And finally, when she was done - and in truth, she’d simply run out of energy and trailed away into silence - he’d taken her hand and smiled gently at her.

“It’s all right,” he said. And it was.

~*~*~

Four days later they were married. Graham had no idea how Liam managed it, but he’d obtained the special license that allowed them to be married without banns and on Monday, one week to the day since they’d met in person.

Ruby’s entire family - save her widowed sister Tink, who lived far away in Scotland and hadn’t had time to make it down for the festivities - had made the trip out to the country for the wedding. Normally, the ceremony would have taken place at the Jones country seat in Kent, or at St. George’s in London where the family regularly worshiped. But it all happened so quickly, those arrangements were impossible to make.  Killian and Emma offered My Cottage as the reception place, but Ruby felt the twins would be more comfortable at Romney Hall, so they’d held the wedding at the parish chapel down the lane with the small, intimate reception on the lawn around Graham’s greenhouse.

As the sun was beginning to set, Ruby found herself in her new bedchamber with her mother who was busily tucking away the items from Ruby’s hastily gathered trousseau. She smiled, completely understanding Alice’s need to move while she talked.

“I should complain that I’m being denied my moment of glory as mother of the bride,” she said, folding Ruby’s veil and placing it in the top drawer of her bureau. “But, in truth, I’m simply happy to see you as a bride.” She turned toward Ruby, tears shining in the corner of her eyes.

Ruby released a watery chuckle of her own. “You’d rather despaired of seeing it, didn’t you?”

“Quite,” Alice agreed, then tilted her head knowingly. “But I had a feeling you might surprise us all in the end. You frequently do.” 

“I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you,” Ruby whispered.

“Never,” Alice replied, her visage exceedingly wise. “My children never disappoint me. They simply astonish me.” A knowing smile touched her lips. “I think I prefer it that way.”

Ruby threw herself into her mother’s arms. She felt awkward doing so, though not from the display of familial affection itself. Perhaps it was that she was perilously close to tears herself. But suddenly she felt as she had when she was quite young - all long limbs with gangly arms and legs and bony elbows and a mouth that was always open when it should remain closed. 

And she wanted her mother.

Alice held her close, rubbing her back and making soothing sounds, as if she knew exactly the maelstrom of feelings surging in her daughter. And she probably did. Intelligence and wisdom were most definitely not the same thing, and they both very infrequently found a home within the same person. But in the case of Alice Jones, they did. And Ruby was ever so grateful. 

Alice finally released her and Ruby took a step back to see her mother looking rather wistful. She ran her fingers down the side of Ruby’s face, the action so tender, it made Ruby want to weep.

“Are you certain you’ll be happy?” Alice asked, softly.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Ruby replied, a rueful smile touching her lips.

“It may be too late to do anything about it, but not to wonder.”

“I think I’ll be happy,” Ruby said. I hope I’ll be happy, she said in her mind.

“He seems to be a nice man,” Alice said.

“He is,” Ruby agreed.

“Honorable.”

A soft smile graced Ruby’s lips. “He is that.”

Alice nodded, her own smile soft as she gazed at her daughter. “I believe you’ll be happy. It may take time.” She paused for a moment, but her smile didn’t waver. “It will take time, and you may doubt that it will come. But it will. Just remember…” she trailed away, her teeth nibbling on her lip.

“What, Mother?”

Alice didn’t answer right away, appearing to choose her words with great care. “It will take time, that’s all.” She turned toward the door and Ruby cut her eyes to the side as her mother wiped at the tear that rolled down her cheek. “You’re very impatient,” Alice continued. “You always have been. But there’s a great deal more to you and it seems that you sometimes forget that. I’m glad you never accepted a proposal from any of the men in London. You wouldn’t have been happy with any of them. Content? Maybe. But not happy. Second best was never good enough for you, Ruby, and I’m glad.” Her smile was gentle and warm. The smile of a mother saying goodbye to her daughter. “Give it time. Be gentle. Don’t push.”

Ruby wanted to say something, anything, but found she couldn’t utter a single word.

“Don’t push,” she repeated. “Be patient.”

“I…” She wanted to say I will but her words simply slipped away as she gazed at her mother, realizing something for the very first time. She was leaving. She was leaving her family. They’d still be a part of her, of course, in all the ways that mattered, but she was leaving the family of her birth and forming a new one of her own. 

And as she looked at her mother, she realized just how much she loved her. Alice always seemed to know exactly what each of her children needed, which was truly remarkable with eight of them, after all. When Ruby had finally read the letter her mother had given to Liam to give to her, she hadn’t scolded or thrown accusations, either of which she was entirely entitled to do. She’d simply reminded Ruby that she would always be her daughter and that she loved her. Ruby had bawled her eyes out.

Alice Jones had never wanted for anything, but her true wealth lay in her wisdom and her love, and as Ruby watched her mother turn to the door, she realized Alice was everything she aspired to be.

And she couldn’t believe it had taken her all this time to realize it.

“I expect you and Sir Graham would like some privacy,” she observed, turning to her daughter again as a small chuckle escaped her lips. “If I don’t escort the family out, they’ll never leave.”

“I shall miss you all,” Ruby said.

“Of course you shall,” Alice replied. “And we shall miss you. But you won’t be far. You’ll be nearby for Emma when her time comes, and I’ll be making more frequent trips out here now that I have two new grandchildren to spoil,” Alice said, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.

Ruby wiped away her own tear. Alice and the rest of the family had fully accepted Ava and Nicholas into their fold without reservation. Not that she expected anything different, but it had warmed her heart in a way she had not expected. Already the twins were playing wholeheartedly with their Jones cousins and Alice had insisted they call her grandmama. They had quickly and enthusiastically agreed, especially after Alice had pulled out a whole bag of peppermint drops that she claimed must have fallen into her valaise back in London.

Ruby had already said goodbye to the rest of her family, so when her mother left, she felt she was really and truly Lady Humbert. Miss Jones would have returned to London with her family, but Lady Humbert remained here at Romney Hall, mistress of her own home and family. It suddenly occurred to her that no one in her family had had to undertake the role of parent so quickly. But she was up to the task. She had to be. She was a Jones, even if it wasn’t her surname any longer, and she could handle anything thrown at her. She was not one to sit idle and let her life pass her by or dictate her happiness. So she would have to make certain that her life was happy beyond reason.

A knock sounded at the door and a moment later Graham entered. Even from across the room, the heat in his gaze made her shiver.

“Don’t you want a maid for that?” he asked, motioning to where she was running her brush through her long locks.

“I told her to take a free evening,” she said, blushing. “It seemed the least I could do. It almost seemed like an intrusion, don’t you think?”

He cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat, in a move that had become so dear to her in the last few days. He was never as comfortable in formal attire as he was in his work clothes. It was quite strange that she’d married a man with a vocation. A calling, a purpose in his life. So different from other men of the ton. She liked it. She liked him.

“Do you need a few more minutes?” he asked.

She shook her head. She was ready.

“Thank God,” he murmured, crossing quickly to her and gathering her in his arms. 

Then he was kissing her and every thought in Ruby’s head was utterly gone.

Graham supposed he should have paid more attention to his wedding, but with the wedding night so very close, he just couldn’t. Every time he looked at Ruby - in her cream colored gown that made her skin and green eyes glow, and delicate veil that trailed behind - he caught his breath and felt the tightening in his body that he had to will away while in the presence of so many.

Soon, he thought.

And then soon became now and they were alone, and she was in his arms, responding to his kiss, and he just couldn’t believe how beautiful she was as his fingers buried themselves in her long, long hair that reached nearly to her waist. He’d never seen it down, he realized, and he’d had no idea how long it was when he’d only ever seen it gathered up at the nape of her neck.

“I always wondered why women wore their hair up,” he murmured into the skin of her jaw as he peppered soft nips and kisses there. “But now I know.”

“Well,” gasped Ruby, “it is expected out there in society.”

He pulled back and smiled down into her slightly dazed countenance. “That’s not why,” he said, shaking his head. Her brow furrowed slightly and Graham placed a tender kiss on the lines in her forehead, utterly delighted in the fact that the privilege of kissing Ruby anytime and anywhere he wanted was now his. Forever and ever, Amen.

“It’s for the protection of all the other men of the ton,” he continued, a smug smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

Ruby’s eyes widened in surprise. “I think you mean protection from all the other men of the ton,” she said.

“No,” he insisted. “Protection of. Because I’d have to kill any other man who beheld you thus.”

“Graham,” she admonished him on a whisper. But she was blushing as she said it.

“No man who saw this would be able to resist you,” he said, his fingers running through the long locks and twisting a strand around his pointer finger. “I’m quite sure of that.”

Ruby snorted inelegantly. “Many have been able to resist me over the years,” she said, the self-deprecation in her words raising his ire.

“They were all fools,” he interjected, vehemently. “And it only proves my point. This has been hidden away for years, has it not?” he asked, bringing the strand to his nose and inhaling deeply, the scent of rosewater filling his sinuses.

“Since I was sixteen,” she murmured.

“I’m glad,” he said, his face lowering toward hers again, his breath whispering against her lips. “Some London idiot would have snapped you up years ago if you’d tugged out your hairpins.”

“It’s only hair,” she whispered. Her lips trembled as his nose nuzzled hers.

“You’re right. It’s only hair,” he agreed. “Because on anyone else, I don’t believe it would be so intoxicating. It must be you, then,” he said, dropping the strand he’d held and capturing her lips with his own.

He couldn’t understand how just a simple kiss could turn his blood to fire in his veins. His tongue touched the seam of her lips and she opened to him with a low moan in the back of her throat. 

He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten the sweetness of her lips. He’d kissed her several times now and each time he did, the sweetness of her mouth surprised him. It must be for the preservation of their routine, their everyday life. Because if he did remember how it felt to kiss her, to taste her, he’d never stop. Not for his work. Not to eat. Not to sleep. Hell, not to breathe. 

~*~*~

~*~*~

He pulled back and the whimper of loss from Ruby’s lips nearly undid him. “Patience, dearest,” he whispered, turning her in his arms. The back of her gown was adorned with small silk covered buttons, from her shoulder blades to the swell of her bottom, and he began to undo them. One by one. Inch by tantalizing inch of skin revealed, until finally he reached the last one, just above the cleft. What would he give to kiss Ruby right there? 

As he opened the last button, revealing the small square of skin to his sight, he couldn’t help himself. He sank to his knees and placed a tender kiss right there, making Ruby shiver. This was Ruby. Ruby. His bride. His wife. She was strong. She was passionate. She was magnificent. She was his.

He rose to his feet again and turned her back around, her gown falling to the floor and baring her to his sight. He couldn’t look at her though. Not yet. He gazed into her face, her eyes half lidded in rapture, her kiss swollen lips parted slightly as her breath stuttered in and out. He ran his hand up from her hips until his fingers grazed the side of her breast.

Capturing her lips once again, his hand firmly cupped her weight in his hand. “Graham,” she moaned against his lips, and his heart tripped at the thought that this had all come to pass.

Both his hands cupped the fullness of her breasts as his mouth devoured hers. It was only then that he felt the lightest of brushes of her fingers along his shoulders as she reached for him, drawing him closer to her warmth. His own arms reached around her and pulled her close, until she was lined up with him from her shoulders to her feet. 

The emotion within him surged and his eyes filled with tears. Tears of disbelief and tears of joy. He had to see her. The sun hadn’t yet set outside and the golden rays flooded their bedchamber, bathing Ruby in a glow that dazzled his sight. How he’d gotten so lucky, he’d never know, but he vowed then and there to never take it for granted and to simply enjoy the fact that he was the most blessed man alive.

~*~*~

~*~*~

He pulled back from her again and began working his own buttons, watching Ruby watch him, her eyes growing wider as more of his skin was revealed. Once his shirt was opened, he turned around and removed the garment, only to spin quickly back to face her when he heard her gasp.

He’d forgotten. He’d completely forgotten to keep his back away from her sight.

“What happened?” Her voice was low and trembling, though from terror or disgust, he couldn’t tell. But she was his wife, and while he could avoid the vivid reminders of his childhood, she couldn’t.

“I was whipped,” he said quietly. 

Her eyes narrowed and Graham realized that not only was her voice trembling, her limbs were as well, and not from his lovemaking. 

She was enraged.

“Who did this to you?”

“My father.” Such a simple phrase that encompassed so much. He remembered well the day. He took a deep shuddering breath as the memories washed over him. He’d been twelve and home from school when his father had requested that he join him on a hunt. Graham hadn’t been gone so long that he’d forgotten that Thomas Humbert didn’t request anything. Graham was a good horseman, but not good enough for the jump his father had taken ahead of him. He’d tried to make the jump as well, knowing he’d be branded a coward for not making the attempt.

He’d fallen, of course. Been thrown really. He’d walked away without injury, miraculously, but his father had been livid. His vision of English manhood did not include tumbles from horseback. His sons would ride and shoot and fence and box and excel and excel and excel.

And God help them if they did not.

George had made the jump. He was two years Graham’s elder. Two years taller, two years stronger. He’d tried to intervene when Thomas had turned the whip on his younger son, but he’d only been beaten as well for his trouble. Graham needed to learn how to be a man, Thomas had growled, and no one would be permitted to interfere with his deserved punishment. Not even George.

Graham wasn’t sure what was different about that day. Thomas had seemed angrier than usual and while he normally used his belt, which didn’t leave marks, this day he grabbed the whip. And even when Graham’s shirt shredded under the beating, his father still hadn’t stopped. 

It was the only time his father’s beatings had left a physical scar. And Graham was stuck with the reminder for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He hadn’t meant for her to see them. He hadn’t wanted to expose himself to her this way, bringing her into the horror of his childhood.

“I’m not,” she said. Graham’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m furious.”

God help him - because he certainly couldn’t help himself - he burst out laughing. Here was his beautiful, magnificent, naked wife, trembling in fury, looking like she was ready to march right down to hell to take out her own retribution against Thomas Humbert for his crimes against his son.

She startled slightly at his mirth, but then she smiled too, recognizing the importance of the moment. Graham continued smiling at her, the memory of his father and that day slipping away. He grabbed her hand and placed it over his heart.

“So strong,” she murmured, her gaze and fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders, arms, and chest, approval plain in her tone. “I had no idea it was so difficult, working in the greenhouse.”

He positively preened under her compliment. “I do work outside too, you know,” he said, quite unable to just thank her for the compliment.

“With the laborers?” she asked, looking up at him from underneath her lashes.

Graham’s brows raised in amusement. “Ruby Jones…”

“Humbert,” she interrupted.

He couldn’t hide the surge of pleasure inside him at the reminder. “Ruby Humbert,” he agreed softly. “Have you been harboring secret fantasies about the laborers?”

The indignant look on her face made him chuckle. “Of course not! Although…” she trailed away, looking a little sheepish.

“Although,” he prompted.

“They do look awfully elemental, toiling out there under the hot sun.”

Graham smiled. Slowly, like a man about to feast upon a banquet of all his favorite foods.

“Oh, Ruby,” he said, his lips meeting the skin of her neck and trailing down, down, down until he reached the curve of her breast. “You have no idea of elemental. No idea at all.” 

~*~*~

~*~*~

Then he did what he’d been dreaming of. Well, one of the things he’d been dreaming of. He licked her nipple then blew on it before sucking it into the warm cavern of his mouth.

“Graham!” she shrieked.

He swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed, already turned down for the newlyweds. He laid her upon the sheets and stood back to just look at her. He was pleased that she didn’t try to cover herself from his sight and he just stood soaking in her beauty before his trembling hands began to work on his pants.

“Let me,” she whispered, her eyes glowing. Graham caught his breath and  nodded, laying down beside her. She reached for him, but before she could undo the fasteners on his pants, he ran his fingers along the silk of her stockings, the last garment she wore. He slid the first down her leg, delighted when a laugh burst from her when his fingers grazed the back of her knee.

“Ticklish?” he asked, and she nodded shyly, finally undoing his trousers. They both rid themselves of the other’s clothing until they were fully naked and facing one another on the bed.

His fingers trailed gently down her cheek and cupped her chin, bringing her lips to his. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he assured her.

“I’m not afraid,” she murmured, her breath brushing over his lips.

He drew back, just a little surprised at her words. “You’re not?”

She shook her head. “Nervous? Yes. But not afraid.”

Graham chuckled. “You are magnificent, Ruby. Do you know that?”

Ruby shrugged, a sly smile on her face. “I keep telling everyone that, but you’re the only one who seems to believe me.”

He really laughed that time and he realized what a gift that was. Twice since he’d entered the bedchamber, she’d made him laugh. Who would have thought that he’d be here, on his wedding night, laughing with his bride. Certainly not him.

He kissed her hard and then began his lovemaking in earnest, exploring Ruby from her head to her feet. He kissed, and he nipped, and he licked, and he touched, finding all the places that made her gasp and moan in pleasure. He was as hard as he’d ever been in his life, but this was Ruby’s first time enjoying the physical intimacy of married love and he was more concerned about introducing this joy and wonder of discovery between them than satisfying his own needs. 

He finally touched her between her legs, and Ruby released a trembling sigh from above him. He looked up at her and found her looking down at him, her eyes glazed, her mouth open slightly. She focused on him and Graham grinned at her, dipping his finger inside her and then popping the digit in his mouth to taste her essence.

“Delicious,” he murmured.

“Graham?” she asked, almost in a whisper. “How much is it going to hurt?”

Her question startled him and he quickly schooled his features.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I hope not too much.”

She nodded. “I keep…” Her words trailed off and Graham waited patiently for her to finish. 

“Tell me,” he urged, when she remained silent.

“I keep getting swept away,” she said haltingly, “but then I’ll see you, or feel you, and I just can’t imagine how that is going to fit inside me, and I’ll lose it. The magic,” she explained. “I keep losing the magic.”

Graham’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “Let me give you the magic,” he said. “Stay right there. Don’t move.” He kissed her hard and then moved down her body to the one place his lips had avoided so far. He spread her legs wide and kissed her.

Ruby screamed.

“Very good,” Graham breathed into her center. He held her still, his hands holding her hips firmly. He had no choice, for she was writhing and squirming like a wild woman as he tasted and explored every fold, every crevice of her womanhood. He was voracious and he devoured her, thinking that this had to be the very best thing he’d ever done in his entire life and he was able to do this every day for the rest of his life.

He’d heard other men talk about it, of course, but he’d had no idea it was this good. He was terrifyingly close to losing himself and she hadn’t even touched him. It was a good thing too. The way she was gripping the sheets, she’d be liable to tear him apart.

Ruby stiffened above him, crying out her ecstasy, and a surge of sweetness exploded on his tongue. He couldn’t enjoy everything she gave him because his own needs took over and he could hold back no longer. He tried to go slowly, for her sake, but when she lifted her hips to meet him - her fingers digging into his shoulders in wild demand, his name a prayer on her lips - he surged forward into her depths all the way to the hilt.

He checked her face for any sign of pain but he saw none as he began to pump a steady rhythm into her. He was rougher than he wanted to be, but it had been so long and he needed her so much, he just couldn’t help himself. She seemed to enjoy it though, meeting him thrust for thrust.

And when she moaned, it wasn’t his name. It was More.

He slipped his hands underneath her bottom and lifted her toward him. Just that slight change in angle, pushed her over the edge again and the tight sheath of her squeezing him had him spilling himself inside her with a roar of her name, claiming her finally and indelibly as his own.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I'd love to hear what you think! Next ch will be up Friday night before I go to bed.

[grandline-fics]

The Grand Line's Bounty List

Have to now split the Masterlist into multiple posts now because of the amount of links.

RED HAIR PIRATES, CROSS GUILD, MARINES, REVOLUTIONARY ARMY

Shanks They Crave Your Presence They Reunite With Their First Love You Call Them A Term Of Endearment They Hurt You While Controlled The Moment They Started Seeing You Differently You're Serious Until You See Something Cute The Have A Nightmare You Marry Someone Else They Finally See You Jealous Prompt: Sleeping Separately After An Argument Prompt: Waking Up The Morning After Prompt: Getting Caught With Being Jealous There Was Only One Bed

Mihawk Lazy Mornings With You They Reunite With Their First Love Domestic Life With Him They Hurt You While Controlled You're A Famous Pianist Their Favourite Moments To Kiss You When You Get Attention For Wearing Something Different The Have A Nightmare You Marry Someone Else Business Or Pleasure Prompt: Sleeping Separately After An Argument They Underestimate You During Game Night Stealing Glances At The Other There Was Only One Bed

Crocodile The First Time They Hear You Sing Lazy Mornings With You You're Oblivious To The Obvious You're Serious Until You See Something Cute They Catch You In Their Clothes They Underestimate You During Game Night They Hurt You While Controlled

Buggy Prompt: Sleeping Separately After An Argument They Underestimate You During Game Night

Smoker The Moment They Started Seeing You Differently You Say Their Name In Your Sleep He Has No Idea He Has A Crush On You

Lucci You Meet Through A Dance Prompt: Jealousy Kiss w/Do You Have Any Idea How Much I Want To Kiss You Right Now?

Sabo They Crave Your Presence You Call Them A Term Of Endearment They Hurt You While Controlled You Say Their Name In Your Sleep You Try To Hide Illness From Him Prompt: Secretly Dating w/Desperate Kiss When You Fall Unconscious

Other Masterlists:

Strawhats

Heart Pirates, Kid Pirates, Whitebeard Pirates, Big Mom Pirates

[sebsunset]

RED

Hunter's life with his uncle is like dancing with a devil - like anyone dancing, he trips.

OR: How Hunter got his scar. In a canon-adjacent way.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50483494

2nd whumptober entry for the month! Day 12 : ) read in ao3 or down here!!

 Five in the morning. 

 The door to the throne room slides closed with a heavy, dragging sound. A body falls onto the linoleum, sliding a few inches before getting up onto his knees and palms.

 Outside of the palace, the sun's yet to even start to peek from behind the horizon, the day cold and still dark, the palace devoid of its hustle and bustle.

 The flickering lamps seem to breathe with him, as his pace shifts into a run. 

 Footsteps echo along those empty halls, deprived of the usual white noise from moving scouts and soldiers, these empty halls bear only Hunter and his echoes: the panting breaths slipping from bloody lips, the fogging of it on his mask, the heaving, swaying motions of the boy as he runs.

 All he can see, staining the borders of his visions, is crimson. 

 That same color might be lining his armor, as it glints in his hands, catching droplets of the oily orange lights flickering along the halls.

 The gold and marble reflect that same dancing flame, and Hunter, usually enraptured by the peaceful beauty of this time of the day, can't help but rush down the hall.

 His usual composure is forgotten, gestures sloppy, rushed and shaky as the wound throbs, pain radiating outwards from his jaw to his cheek to the whole of his head.

 There's the feeling of the fabric of the mask pushing itself into the wound, a gash of something sharp, sunken deep into the boy.

 There is a vague understanding, as he races past the prophet's portraits, that this isn't how it is supposed to happen. This isn't what he's meant to be doing.

 This was meant to be a special day. 

 It echoed in his head, as he climbed up the stairs he had, not so long ago, silently descended.

 Belos had summoned him to his office, as it neared past an hour after the fourth of that morning. The golden guard he was made to be, obedient even when awoken at an absurd hour of the night, had carried himself to the throne room before he even blinked the sleep away from his eyes, had been rewarded with instructions:

 Bring palismen. Take them from witches, if need be.

 The denial sowed the seed of anger, and not much else.

 The red swam along his visor, and he felt something tacky, sticky, cling to his face as he stumbled, catching himself against the wall, right outside his own door.

 A hand in front of him, trembling like it's cold even when covered up by a thick glove, fumbles around, finding the knob of his door.

 It rattles as his hand slips, struggling to grasp as he gags and gasp sin pain, tasting copper red in his mouth, disgustingly hopeless until he manages to open his own door.

 Nobody saw him.

 Nobody can see him, not injured - the position he will soon hold is that of prestige, and he knows there are many who target him.

 Uncle told him as such, Hunter figures him right therefore.

 So he shuts the door behind himself, resisting the urge of his knees to buckle, swimming across the diminutive, miniscule space of his room up to the small attached bathroom.

 He collapses, finally - buckling knees driving him to sit atop the lid of his closed toilet, knocking his head back against the wall. His chest rises and falls, fast and shallow, and along with the red, spots of black swim along his vision.

 Now that he no longer runs, Hunter can bask, fully, on the pain of his gash. 

 He wonders... How bad is the damage? Ever since he was a baby, he knew he'd never deliver a perfect body to the grave.

 Yet, there was something scary writhing under the surface layer of agonizing pain - it tangles with the betrayal he feels for his uncle's actions, a complicated dance of shame, anger and fear. 

 His hands, shakey as they are, pull down his hood and follow on to find the clasp of his mask.

 It drops to his lap, the backside of it facing up, against Hunter's swimming vision.

 The back of the padded metal is dark, not red until Hunter touches it, and the brown of his gloves comes out stained as well.

 The spilled paint drives him to grit his teeth, a sigh escaping through the gaps and uneven tips and edges of not-quite-fangs. He isn't losing enough blood to go unconscious, despite the pain of all his flesh having been torn through.

 He hears nothing but his breaths and the beats of his heart, an unsteady drumming which echoes in his ears, even as they pin down against his head, folding over and back as a whine escapes his lips.

 Shame burns through the pain. He should be silent and stoic, even in the face of pain. He has been through so much pain, the reasons for him to react so much have long slipped away from his grasp.

 He braces himself on the edge of the sink, pushes himself up on shaking legs. A breath, as he squeezes his eyes shut, the pain beating him down and wrapping itself around him.

 There is an unnerving wetness on his face, the salt of his involuntary tears mixing with the coppery blood, flooding into the wound that burns and bites its way through the flesh of his jaw.

 He turns the tap on, water rushing down. Only then, does Hunter lift up his face, to gaze upon his own wrecked visage:

 He shudders.    "It's gonna scar." he murmurs to himself, all alone. 

 He pushes himself away from that thought, and turns the gears in his mind, pretending - somewhere in the childish, youthful part of him, twelve years old as he is, existent yet suppressed -  that this is an assignment, not an injury to himself.

 He dives into the cabinet under the running tap, opening the dingy door and finding himself staring at spare toiletries and the clunky, oversized first aid kit that is his only source of medical teatment on most days, good or bad.

 He swallows dryly, shuts his eyes as he pulls his cargo and himself up, opens it and spills.

 The towel for his hands under the sink, soaking in the water, before he wipes his face - the unshed baby fat of his cheeks, torn through from skin down to the muscles deep beneath, is red up to his eye.

 The hauting ugliness of it drives him to scrub, until the white towel, run over his cheek and jaw, over the stains on the bridge of his nose and even the bit of blood that somehow would up near Hunter's neck, turns pink.

 The color is blotchy and the smell is uncomfortable, and the bleeding isn't stopping.

 Hunter swallows, dryly. He has to sew his wound. The pain drives him to bite the other side of his cheek, his half-formed fangs not quite chewing fully through the chunks of flesh.

 There will be blood, though. He runs a towel under the tap, soaking up the water on the lightly-faded pink, until the cotton is heavy and he can drip it onto his wound, shaking his head.

 He, sadly, was taught very well what he was supposed to do in these scenarios. It was inevitable.

 But the part of him that is bitter feels such not for the wound, but for who caused it, for why he received it.

 It is a punishment, a mark of his failure. He has to bear his head high and tall through it.

 And he has to prove, to his uncle, that he is good enough. 

 Otherwise next time, he won't be hooking the black thread onto the needle for such a small, simple, bearable pain.

 He hisses between his teeth, tap water dripping frm the needle as he drives it into his face.   The wound runs a bit under his face over his neck. The pain is throbbing, pushing and pulling, as if it's trying to squeeze something out of him.

 He assumes - needle comes into one side of the flesh, driven into the other, poking through the inflammed, pinkish skin, sinking into the flesh beneath to the glorious emergence of another drop of blood. 

 Everything is red, and Hunter can't help but sway to it, the pain and exhastion coupling and entangling like twin serpents, moving in tandem to slow down his movement.

 He wants to sob. Each pinprick of pain, as he runs up his face and then down his neck, thread falling from the spool around him on the basin of the sink.

 Trembling hands and a quivering voice.

 "You'll be okay," Hunter re-assures himself, lightly. 

 But he wants to stop. He pushes himself just a bit:

 "If you finish this, Belos will be proud." he says, "He'll be proud that you are so brave and resilient. He will make you the golden guard-"

 He bites his tongue to stiffle a shout, pulling the needle too far, too tight and taut, the flesh and skin stretching together, pulling and crashing-

 "He'll treat you much, much better."

 That's all he can say, all he can promise himself - it's all he wants, and it's something he knows he probably won't get.

 He hisses, dropping the needle so his noodly, trembling arm can wipe at his eyes, tears like a fauced threathening to scrunch up his face in ugly directions and disrupt his messy, uneven stitching.

 He wants to cry, and maybe he will, once the day is over. Despite all the pain, Hunter has to work.    Belos wakes him up early out of grace - for Hunter to fully resolve and relieve all his duties, in the end, he needs a few adjustments so he can do them along with meeting up, every three days, with his uncle.

 Before him, he is a mere servant - and in his facelessness, he shall never cry.

 Therefore he pulls the string and snips it down with a scissor, the small knot to finish his stitching hanging out, black as a mole, beside the unbandaged cross-stitch job across his face.    It's red and swollen, and he swallows the pain and the building tears, the budding pressure at the back of his neck doing nothing to dissuade him from tidying up.

 The only thing that can stop him is the footsteps he picks up outside his room, the rasping sound of knocks.

 "Scout!" a voice calls from outside, a world's worth of distance in his pain, but usually just a few steps of his walking. He wants to hiss and snap and growl-

 But he already learned his lesson for the day.

 "Well, you've better get up!" the voice hollers, through the door, "Before I get in and drag you to the field!"

 He swallows, pulling on the red-stained mask over his face once more, tying the straps behind his head as he yells, the taste of blood and the pressure of the mask against his wound, unbandaged and barely stitched and soon to be filthy once more, all overwhelming his senses.

"I'm up, I'm up!" 

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hey sweetheart!

how're you? how're you doing?

just wanted to check in with you!

and also to let you know that i love your works!

your take on suguru is immaculate.

currently in love with your knight!suguru fic and your drunk!suguru fic! <3

hi anon !! wahhhhhh you’re so sweet for checking in…… T_T i’m doing just fine !!!! hoping to get some writing done this week ….. i’m gonna try my best!!

and !!!!! tysm for ur kind words :’3 it means a lot to me!! praise from sugu girlies (gn) always makes me so happy <3333 I’M OVERJOYED THAT U LIKE MY TAKE ON HIM it’s extremely self-indulgent but it is what it is yk ….

and aaaa i’m very fond of both those fics :’3 i feel so warm knowing u like them too anon !!! i’ve been writing sugu a lot lately hhh ….. but i still have lots of wips left !!! i hope they’ll live up to ur sweet praise once they’re out !!! 🌻��🌻

[imjulia-andilikecats]

Mareven Scrap Idea: Maven (Hunter) x Mare (Forest Nymph) Part 3

Warning: Light Gore (sorry, I wasn't able to include this sooner 😬)

Before the gentle sun could wake the sleeping residents of the Calore Manor.

Maven Calore made his way to the old cabin, armed with his standard hunting gear, two jars of honey and an apple that he swiped under the head chef's nose.

I wonder if she is still there. He though, as he took his first bite of his apple.

Although, he knew that he chained her writs and ankles on the sturdy walls of the old cabin. Any person will have a difficult time escaping those bonds, especially with a gun wound through the thigh. Only aquiring his keys would guarentee freedom, but a small voice in his head would always chastise him, reminding him that she is not human and he should be worried.

Once he saw the small wooden fence, he quickly jumped over it. Held up his rifle, as he walked around the shed, eyes scanning his surrounding, scouring for any signs of escape.

The door still intact, the windows tainted but not shattered and the grass undisturbed and plush from the cool, humid air. Good.

Maven entered the old cabin, grimacing at how loud it creaked. The sound, reminding him of the times he and his older brother would race each other to the door.

As he walked down the creaking floors of the old cabin, he could see bits of the wall cut open. He remembered Cal cutting off that peice to build a crooked chair, that earned him endless praise from their farher.

He kept on walking, seeing parts of the wall smears with paint and irregular shaped drawings.

When his young self wanted to be an artist, he would fill the walls with color, even paint his brother's poorly assembled furniture. Only to be told by his mother and father that he'll be wasting time, money and the Calore name for such a useless dream.

But he still kept painting, seeing a few defiant strokes of white, purple and red paint splattered in one corner. Bleeding out in furious movement, begging to be seen.

When he and Cal got older. They would still come here and play chess and talk about how they would take care of the Manor and travel the world.

The momery made him chuckle. Pathetic.

Cal never kept his end of that promise. The moment father's drinking started to become a nuisance to his health. His brother has completely forgotten this place and his promise.

Maven considered burning the cabin to the ground. Be rid of his rotten dreams and empty promises.

Luckily, he didn't, as he pushed open the door, peering through the gap, his eyes landing on his old bed, where he last left her, the little nymph.

Expecting her to be there, weakened from her wounds and still groaning in pain, but she was not.

Maven felt a sudden wave of panic, kicking the door, hard enough to swing violently open, the bronze handle slamming hard on the wall.

Holding his rifle close to his side, as he steps in the room.

Eyes looked frantically for her, his head almost hurting as he follows the chains slightly clanking against the headboard, leading him to her.

Just a few steps from his bed was the little nymph, hunched at a corner. The nymph too immersed on what she was doing to bother looking at him, even when he almost broke the hinges off the door.

"Ah." He breathed out. "There you are." Gripping the rifle on his side, reassuring him that he'll be safe from her.

He slowly walked towards her. Her continuing to ignore him. Her hands nowhere to be seen and her head hunched forward, almost pressed against the wall.

What on earth is that thing doing?

As he walked closer to her, he started to hear odd noises, like the sound of oranges slowly being taken apart.

Maven stopped from his tracks. He could clearly hear her teeth clamping down on something. The sound of snapping bones and tearing flesh.

It sent chills down his spine.

He help up his rifle, as he started to lose his temper. "Turn around." He said coldly.

Cocking his rifle, to emphasize his point. The familiar sound catching her attention, the nymph turned her head towards his.

Maven almost lost his meal when he saw her. Her large, brown eyes, wide with shock, as her lovely face was smears with blood and gore. A rubber-like tail hanging between her full lips.

The sight, reminded him of a predator caught enjoying its half-eaten meal.

The nymph simply slurped the rat's tail, her suprised expression turned to her familiar, wrathful face, as it landed on the barrel of his rifle. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, as she press her back hard against the wall. Trying to put in a few inches of distance from his and his rifle.

Maven could only stand still for a moment, quietly gawking at her.

Her actions never fail to remind him that she is not human but a nymph. A feral one at that.

Maven took a deep breath and lowered his rifle. Kneeling to her level, his face a perfect image of genuine concern.

"I see you've gotten hungry in my absense." He gave her his sheepish smile, acting embarassed at his poor treatment of her.

The nymph tilted her head, her hair falling, covering half her face. "I'm always hungry." She rasped. Her daek eyes, staring deeply at his face. An open threat.

Kneeling this close to her, he stared at her hair. Messy waves of warm brown, its color slowly fading to gray. The small white and lilac flowers, still intact on her head. Even the small, thin vines coiling around her limbs and clothing clung to her tightning, even though a few of them, were dried out. Such an odd ensemble colors on an even stanger creature. His gloved finger fidget for a moment. He wanted to move it all away, so he could see her defiant face.

His smiled widen, quiet pleased with himself for catching a chatty one.

"Since, I'm such a terrible host. Let me repay you." Plopping down one jar of honey before her muddy feet.

She stared at his offering then blinked.

For a moment, he thought that his brother was wholly wrong and creatures like her might obly eat meat, like him.

As soon as that thought took form. The nymph snatched it away with her blood-smeared hands, holding it up near her face.

She looked at it's color with delight. Her dark eyes, expanding at its amber hue. Her mouth hanging open in genuine awe.

He couldn't keep his eyes away from her face.

Her face freely contorts to whatever she feels, without any restraint of social etiquette or the judgememtal eyes of a Blonos. Such palpable emotions, it was almost contagious.

Without any instructions from him. She quickly and effortlessly opened the jar. Greedily gulped down the sickly sweet honey.

He could only watch in concerned amusement. She sure has an appetite. An expensive one.

Within seconds, the once heavy jar filled with honey, lay empty between the greedy nymph's hand. Her warm brown eyes, glazed in contentment. Her tongue licking the side of her mouth, savoring the molten gold that was left on her lips.

Maven too, felt strangley pleased. To think he was able to satisfy this snarling creature with just a jar of honey. He wondered what else can he do to conjure other emotions from her.

Once she was done licking her mouth and her fingers, her eyes quickly turned to him.

He knew what that look meant. She wants more.

The side of his mouth lifts.

Maven wasted no time stepping a few paces away from her. Raising his gloved hand between them.

"Oh, don't be hasty." Maven tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The numph snarled at him. Tossing a few pieces of rat bone at his boots in protest. How cute.

"That one was your breakfast." He continued, his other hand reaching in his satchel, holding up the second jar in full display. "This one, you have to earn."

"What do you mean?" A genuine question from the nymph, her face looking annoyed then.... hopeful.

He felt triumphant at that moment. He has a nymph on her knees, waiting for his command.

"If you-" Maven stopped, as he stared at her. Noticing the gun wound he caused, slowly fading away. Leaving only a scar.

It was fully healed. What a sight.

"If I what?" She asked, her voice becoming louder and more desparate.

Maven blinked. Once. Twice.

Then looked back at her. He can't allow himself to be shaken by her.

"If you answer all of my questions." He raised the jar again. "You can have as many of this as you want."

The nymph stilled. Her eyes widening. She breathed deep. "You want to bargain with me?"

Maven paused.

Even if he was not as interested in managing the family business compared to his perfect brother.

He knew very well that striking a bargain with anyone is not a simple task. Striking one with a forest creature of all things, is a downright foolish decision.

But this knowledge, the things that he could discover from her. Too tempting to let pass.

Maven placed the jar a few feet towards her. The nymph seemingly more interested on him than the sweet syrup that miraculously healed her wound.

"Yes." He answered carefully. "But not now." He moved the jar closer to her.

Her took it, slowly sliding it towards her, but her eyes never left his face. Unsettling.

"Tomorrow." She said sternly. Sitting back with the honey on her lap.

Before the mountain could swallow the sinking sun. The young master returned. With him, he brought home two dead rabbits.

Handing the fatter one to the chef and burying the other in his favorite spot.

It was a few hours before supper. However, Maven didn't bother to bathe or even remove his hunter clothes.

He hastily walked down the hallway, passing each Calore portait who ever lived, each image presenting a familiar yer foreign face.

Maven pushed open the door. This time, a lot gentler than what he did in the cabin, but his older brother was nowhere to be seen.

Without wasting more time, he went to the second place he knew his brother might be in.

The library or Uncle Julian's bedroom, if he had the chance to name it correctly.

Maven stood before the large wooden doors of the Calore library, placing both his filthy gloved hands against the well-varnished oak and shoving as hard as he could.

"Why must it be this heavy." Maven hissed between each labored push. He wondered how his chicken-legged uncle could open this door, several times a day.

Once the doors were open wide enough for him to fit, he slid it between the gaps and almost lost his footing.

Maven gripped the handle, examining the spot on the floor where he almost slipped. His brows crumpled in confusion when he saw papers filled with scribbles written by Julian, all scattered on the floor.

"Mavey! You're back!" Maven jolted at his older brother's cheery voice. His head jerking towards its source.

At the center of the library, was his older brother surrounded with books, both old and new. Piled high around him, with only his stupid, beaming face visible from the mess.

A strange warmth bloomed in this chest, Maven didn't want to give it attention, as his mind had other things occupying it. Like bargaining with a very hungry and very feral nymph that he kept in his cabin.

Forcing himself to smile. "Brother." Stepping over a small pile of papers. "Did a mad dog had a lovely stroll around here and borrowed a few books?" Lifting a book that had its pages holding on its spine for dear life.

Cal looked at him and gave him a sheepish grin. "You wanted to know more about nymphs." A very thoughtful and very poor excuse to turn their family library into a pigsty.

Maven folded his arms and tut. "What would Julian think of this mess?" Tipping his head towards his older brother's clutter.

His brother waved his free hand, dismissing his statement. "Uncle Julian won't mind" His smile widden, looking more crooked and carefree. "He might even be happy that we still read his work."

"He'll allow it cause it's you." Maven mumbled under his breath.

Since they were just children, Uncle Julian made it very clear to Maven, that he only tolerated him because his perfect, lovable brother, who would always want him around. Even in his lessons. While Julian encouraged his older brother's talents and feed his curiosity, he got reprimanded for every mistake a five year old would naturally make.

"What did you say, Mavey?" Cal asked, plucking another book from his pile. Before waddling towards him, mindful of the papers and books littering the polished floor.

"Nothing. It's not important." Maven walked towards his brother. Glancing at the books on each hand.

Cal, still all smiles, began turning Julian's book at specific pages.

"Here." He pointed. The image of a group of female nymphs, dancing around a fire, hand in hand. Surrounded by foxes, birds, rabbits and odd looking creatures that are covered in vines. "Uncle Julian, always told us stories about the beautiful, mischievous and cruel beings that live in the forest."

Maven rolled his eyes. "He always told us that and yet, fills us with nothing but tragic love stories and weird nonsense."

His older brother frowed, clearly displeased and ready to defend his uncle.

Maven pushed on, lifting his gloved fingers to count each one. "One where a beautiful nymph fell for a humble baker but left because their offspings looked too much like their nymph mother and got chased out by the villagers with sticks and stones"

He raised another. "There was also one where a wood carver's daughter was courted by a dashing young nymph, only for her father to hack down the tree, where the nymph resides, killing it instantly."

Lowering his hands, as he tilts his head to the side. "While the other one, where a group of workers were cutting down trees. One of which stepped on a mound of soil, that apparently had a nymph living in it." Shaking his head, as he image the little nymph's lovely, snarling face. " The angered nymph cast a nasty curse on the mound destroyer and had his left foot inflate like a ball."

His older brother's brows were raised and his mouth slightly ajar. "You-" He coughed, clearning his throat. "You still remember those stories?" A small smile tugging at the side of his lips.

Of course, he remembers. The forced himself to remember.

The moment he learned that nymphs don't only eat honey and the little nymph looking a bit too eager to make a bargain with him. He knew, it would be foolish to be careless around that thing.

"As impressive as your memory is, Mavey." Cal peeled open another page. In it was an image of a nymph hiding at the top of a tree branch, a wicked grin plastered on its sharp features at it's watched in delight, as couple of men wondering in the forest, clearly lost. "Nymph's are mischievous and cruel, but-"

Turning a few more pages, another image, blurred but still decipherable. A group of elderly nymphs facing a group of travelers. Their leaders holding each other's hand, a vine surrounder their fingertips in a symbol of union and peace. "They are also wise and knowledgeable, they shared their knowledge with mankind." His brother finished, looking very proud of his discovery.

"And?" Is that all? Again!? Maven swiped away the book from his brother. Turning every page with such speed, it almost ripped away the pages. It only showed him notes and scribbles, and ink smears.

Maven was furious, he wanted to throttle his brother or better yet, feed him to his little feral nymph.

Before that, he must yell at his brother. Turning his glaring eyes at him, it only met with warmth and excitement on his part.

Cal was already watching him, both hands on his hips, confident with the knowledge he possess. "With all the books, I have read since this morning."

Gesturing at the books piles on the table and floor. "I have a theory."

"A theory?" Maven's head started to ache again, another question that will only be answered with another unpleasent encounter with the nymph.

"I think, judging buy those images and the stories Uncle Julian told us." Picking a few notes covered in his awful writing. "Nymphs and mankind have once lived together or had frequent interactions with each other."

Maven frowned. "Are you implying that our ancestors might have mated with forest people and built a community together?"

His brother snorts, taking his sarcastic remark as his attempt at humor. "Exactly!" Taking his comments in stride.

His older brother, started moving both his hands, as to better convey his theory.

"You see, when humans and nymphs meet each other. They might have disliked one another, but as each side has no desire nor resources for war, they made an agreement."

"Then one of them betrayed the other and both sides never reconciled." Maven said flatly and openly rolled his eyes at how underwhelming the theory was.

Cal nodded gravely. "Ending the terms they held over eavh other." Taking the book from Maven and turning it back again to the image of the elderly nymphs and humans.

One calloused finger tapping on their tethered hands. "Severing the bargain that they made."

Maven's brow shot up from his head. That's it! Tell me more about that.

Keeping his composure. "What about their bargain?" Crossing his arms tightly against his chest. Keeping his fingers from scratching his thigh from anticipation.

"Not much." For once, his brother couldn't look him in the eye. He would normally be elated that his proud, perfect brother had nothing to answer, but it made him feel disappointed instead.

His older brother coughed loudly, earning his attention. "But anyone who would bargain with such beings are either truly dumb or unimaginably desparate."

Fortunately, I'm neither.

Maven only hummed in agreement. Still underwhelmed that he wasted his time again.

He almost jumped from his place when he felt a warm hand clamp on his shoulder. "I might not have bargained with a nymph before, however, I have made some agreements with other lords."

His brother's amber eyes glow like fire from candle light. "You set your terms first, take away as much cards as you could from them." His voice sounding much older and more reassured. "And then everything else falls into place."

Maven only noded. It was has been a long time since he actually listened and dissected his brother's words. Letting his theories and senseless rambling repeat itself in his mind.

Once again, he found himself facing the door at the end of the hallway, that door that kept the little nymph from his older brother and family.

Equipeted with his brother's knowledge and his wit, Maven steadily opened the door.

The nymph sat at the foot of his bed, her legs pressed against her chest. Her face resting on her knees, as she turned towards his direction, just a few feet from where he stood.

Even obscured and distant, he felt her warm browns eyes on him. Waiting.

He was about to step into his old room. When his eyes widen, as he noticed the empty honey jar at floor, inches from her still muddy feet. Along with the chains that were supposed to bind her to the walls.

Maven looked at her again. Her wrist and ankles were bare and free, no sign of a struggle or a dislocated finger.

The nymph,l unaffected with his surprise. Only sat motionless on her spot, her skin seemingly glowing bringter, more flowers blooming on her head, even the vines that wrapped around her looking strikingly green and alive. Eerily beautiful.

Wordless, the nymph extended her right hand to him.

Maven Calore took a deep breath and reached for the nymph's hand. Their fingers intertwining, as they began their bargain.

Note: Ooohhhh!!! Sorry this took FOREVER. Life was lifing me right now 😑 (not in a fun way).

Note Note: @lilyharvord I have finished part 3, somehow. Also, thank you for liking this scarp idea and being patient with me. 🥲 You da best.

Note Note Note: Please enjoy! 😆