#Wet Room Formers & Trays

[mellowsadistic]

The Succubus - Valentine's Day

A sequel to The Succubus.

***

“Good morning, little cucky,” the monster cooed, peering over the bars of the crib. “Happy Valentine’s Day! Could you hear the grown-ups having their fun earlier, sweetie? I hope we didn’t wake you…”

Debbie glowered at her, all too aware of how ridiculous she must look trying to be intimidating with a pacifier bobbing in her mouth, lying at the bottom of an oversized crib beneath a set of Disney princess bedsheets. Her eyes were red, and there were tears drying on her cheeks as well. She had indeed woken up to the loud sounds of lovemaking coming from her former bedroom.

The Succubus laughed. “Oh dear! Someone’s a very grumpy girl today! Looks like we did wake you after all, huh? I guess you’ll just have to have an extra-long nap this afternoon to make up for it. But right now it’s time to get you up and dressed, little one!” She flung back the princess covers to reveal Debbie’s body, nude but for the thick disposable diaper around her waist.

Debbie slipped out of her crib, her nappy sagging heavily between her legs as she got to her feet. Her bottom lip trembled behind her soother. She’d woken up wet again.

The Succubus reached out, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and put her hand on Debbie’s crotch. Debbie could feel the cold, soggy padding pressing against her pussy. “That’s my little bedwetter,” said the Succubus softly. She slipped a finger past the leak guards, her eyes not leaving Debbie’s face. “Soaked again... Mummy’s poor widdle baby just can’t contwol herself, can she?”  Then she spun her around and pulled out the back of her diaper. “But you’re still not pooping at night.” She turned her back around, smiling horribly. “Don’t worry though. Sooner or later you’ll start waking up stinky.”

Debbie imagined waking up every morning to a yucky mess in the seat of her pants and no memory of how it had got there, and felt sick at the thought. The Succubus wanted her to be fully incontinent. Her horrifying voice power had served to strip Debbie of most of her daytime control, but her commands didn’t work as well when Debbie was sleeping. It had taken weeks of ‘special medicine’ in her baby bottles, but now she was starting to reliably wake up in pissy Pampers. Yet the creature who had stolen her adulthood clearly wouldn’t be satisfied until she was doing the most babyish thing possible in her pants while she slept.

Once her hair was tied up in pigtails, frilly socks had been pulled over her feet, and she was dressed in a pale pink frock that failed to reach past the drooping, discoloured seat of her nappy (her overnight diaper was never changed before she made her morning poo-poo), Debbie was ready to head downstairs for breakfast. Mealtimes had been bad enough from the start, when the demon liked to cram her body inside a tight highchair, tie a bib around her neck, and feed her jar after jar of bland, mushy baby food – but things had become even worse ever since she’d realised there was another, better way to feed her ‘baby girl’.

They headed into the living room rather than the kitchen once they’d gone down the stairs, to find John lounging in an armchair having just finished his breakfast. His empty tray was sitting on a table beside him.

“Go and kiss Daddy good morning,” said the Succubus, patting Debbie’s diapered bottom to send her on her way.

Debbie hurried over to her husband. She wasn’t really allowed to kiss him, she knew. Instead she pressed the shield of her binky briefly against his cheek and let him pat her on the head. “Good morning, pretty princess,” he cooed, and Debbie’s heart did a little flutter despite herself.

She turned around and felt her stomach roll, as it always did, at the sight of the Succubus sitting on the sofa with her large, heavy tits out of her top. A droplet of milk was glistening on the end of one of her nipples. “Come to Mummy, baby,” she said seductively, her dark eyes burning like coals. “Time for your feeding.”

Debbie toddled to the sofa, diaper crinkling noisily, and lay herself across the monster woman’s lap. It had taken a while for her milk to come in, but now she produced enough that Debbie had three meals a day from her boobs, supplemented in the evenings by oatmeal and store-bought baby food. With a wet pop, the Succubus removed the dummy from her mouth and guided her lips slowly towards her waiting breast, clearly savouring the look of revulsion on her victim’s face.

Debbie felt the warm nipple enter her mouth, and her lips closed around it and began to suckle instinctively, enthusiastically, against her will. Hot, creamy breastmilk ran down her throat at once. It had a rum-like sweetness to it that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but no matter how hard she tried, Debbie couldn’t ignore the fact that she was guzzling milk from another woman’s tits. It didn’t help that the Succubus cooed to her in a sickening sweet voice while she fed.

“Good girl, Debbie! Drink up all your milkies, that’s a good baby. Isn’t it yummy-wummy? Straight from Mummy’s boobies to baby’s belly.”

The milk seemed endless, and Debbie’s stomach already felt full to bursting when she was moved onto the second breast. But she knew better than to try and fight. That would just make the creature use that cold, awful voice, and Debbie would simply end up doing as she was told anyway. She may even earn herself a spanking to boot. At last she finished her breakfast, and after being briefly burped with her head over the Succubus’s shoulder, the monster kissed her on the forehead, shoved her pacifier back between her lips, and got up. “Time for Mummy to have her breakfast too,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I think pancakes sound tasty. You stay here and behave yourself, okay sweetie?” And she left Debbie sitting on the sofa feeling heavy and tired, with her tummy full to the brim with breastmilk.

But Debbie knew she had a rare opportunity. It wasn’t often that the Succubus left her alone with her husband. John was still in his armchair, reading the paper, and the moment the demon left the living room, Debbie got off the sofa and waddled over to him as fast as she could. She could feel the milk sloshing around in her stomach. John looked up from his paper at the sound of her rustling diaper just as she reached him. Pushing aside his newspaper, her gaze fixed on his handsome face, Debbie clambered into her husband’s lap and straddled one of his legs. She bounced impatiently on his knee, and John wrinkled his nose at the pee-pee smell, but he chuckled indulgently all the same. “Do you want a horsey-ride, little missy?”

“Yes please,” Debbie whispered breathily, her soother falling from her mouth and dangling on the end of its chord. It had been over two weeks since she’d last had the opportunity for a ‘horsey-ride’ on his lap, but she felt that if the two of them could just have something resembling an intimate moment today, on Valentine’s Day, it would somehow undo the Succubus’s brainwashing and make John see her as a woman again.

John raised his eyebrow at her.

“Yes please, Daddy,” she corrected, hating the monster that had done this to her loving husband.

John nodded, satisfied, and started to bounce his knee. “Horsey, horsey, don’t you stop,” he sang, “just let your feet go clippety-clop!”

Debbie suppressed a moan of pleasure as her padded pussy was pressed hard against his knee with each bounce. If she closed her eyes and ignored the singing, if she pressed her body against his chest and pretended her pants weren’t full of pee-pee, she could almost pretend that they were making love.

“Your tail goes swish and your wheels go round!”

Her clit was pulsing delightfully. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to orgasm. She was so desperate these days. She was almost there… She was right on the edge…

“Giddy up, we’re homeward bound!”

“I think that’s enough of that!” came the Succubus’s amused voice, and Debbie felt arms loop around her middle and lift her effortlessly off her husband’s knee.

“Noooo!” she shrieked, kicking her legs and humping the air desperately. Her pussy was spasming, tantalisingly close to relief. “No! No! No!”

Her feet hit the floor and there was a sharp smack on her bottom. “Aren’t you a lucky girl, getting to play on Daddy’s lap for a bit!” the demon crooned darkly. She swatted Debbie’s bottom again. “But settle down now, babykins. You can’t play horsey forever, and Daddy doesn’t want you rubbing your disgusting, piss-soaked diaper all over him.”

“Pleeeease…” Debbie begged, tears welling up in her eyes. She pressed her hand against the front of her nappy and started to rub. She couldn’t stop herself. She needed release.

“Bad girl, Debbie!” the Succubus scolded, pushing her hands away from her crotch. “Is that what Mummy’s taught you to do when you’re feeling naughty tingles in your no-no spot?”

Debbie whined. She clenched her fists at her sides and bounced on the spot. Her pussy was so achy. She hated asking, hated what it involved, but it was the only time the Succubus ever allowed her to orgasm. Most of the time the monster refused her. But occasionally, just frequently enough, she’d say yes.

“Mummy…” Debbie said through gritted teeth. “Please can I have sex?”

“Keep going, baby,” the Succubus said, her eyes glittering maliciously. “Ask properly.”

“I know… I know I’m too silly and little for real sex,” said Debbie, glaring at the floor, “but I want to play pretend. Please can I have sex with my teddy bear?”

The Succubus ran her fingers through one of Debbie’s pigtails, considering, letting the silence drag on. “Yes you may, baby,” she said finally. “Go get teddy.”

Debbie rushed over to the toybox that sat in the corner of the room and pulled out an enormous teddy bear, disentangling him from some of her dress-up clothes. But she’d only gone two steps back towards the Succubus when she stopped dead. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Then a soft grunt escaped her lips. Her knees began to bend, and she found herself sinking into an uncontrollable squat. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No…” she sobbed.

“Uh-oh!” sang the Succubus, and Debbie could hear the grin on her face. “Looks like it’s time for someone’s morning whoopsies!”

John laughed. “I’m just glad she waited until she was out of my lap!”

Debbie let out a loud, unladylike grunt, following by another sob, and then she got to work pushing last night’s din-dins into her pants. Her diaper drooped even lower beneath the hem of her frock as a heavy, smelly mess dropped into the back. Her face was scrunched up as though she was straining with all her might to make as big of a poo-poo as she possibly could in her Pampers, although the truth was that she was quite out of control of her own body. Her nappy sagged again as she dumped another load into it, accompanied by a fresh wave of wee-wee, so that her baby pants hung so heavily between her thighs they were halfway down to her knees. Then, with a final grunt, Debbie straightened up.

“Mummy…” she whimpered. “Please can I have a change before… before…”

The Succubus’s face was as full of delight as Debbie’s was with horror. She approached the quivering baby woman like a predator. “No, little one,” she said, her tone mocking. “If you want your special rub-rubs today then you have to have them now, in your dirty diaper.” She shoved Debbie’s dummy back between her lips, took her by the hand, and led her over to the centre of the room. “Put teddy down here,” she said, pointing at the floor. Arms trembling, Debbie did as she was told. She felt sick with shame, but even with the horrible, babyish mess in her pants, her pussy was still burning needily. “Good girl,” said the monster, flushed with arousal. “Now you can have sex with teddy, and I can have sex with your husband.” She looked over at John. “Ready for round two?” she asked, smirking.

John grinned back and started to undo his belt as his lover strutted over to him, stripping off her clothes as she went. Meanwhile Debbie lowered herself gently to the floor, on top of her teddy bear. She nearly gagged when the poop in her diaper squished against her bottom, but she was almost too horny to care. The first thrust against teddy sent a wave of pleasure coursing through her body, and she couldn’t stop herself moaning like a slut. She heard John and the Succubus laugh, but she kept going, grinding her aching, diaper-clad pussy against her bear, picking up speed. But then she made the mistake of looking up, and although she didn’t stop humping, Debbie started to wail at the sight of the demon riding her husband’s cock. She was straddling his lap, bouncing up and down on his manhood with her head thrown back in ecstasy. “Oh, oh, ohhh!” she moaned.

Debbie felt her orgasm getting closer and closer, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the nightmare happening before her. She sucked frantically on her binky and went cross-eyed as she thrust against her teddy bear, her head dizzy with need. She was right on the edge. And then she was over it, she was cumming in her stinky, sopping wet diaper – and as she did, the Succubus looked over her shoulder with an evil smile and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby girl…”

[roosterforme]

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Beer Boy and Sugar may have spent years apart, but their ten year college reunion proves they have always been part of the same equation. 

Warnings: Fluff, swears, and angst. Eventual smut. 18+ only

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

It was kind of funny to you when you thought about it. Everyone from your graduating class was flooding back to the University of Virginia for your class reunion, but you'd been here pretty much every single day for the past six years.

You hadn't planned on ending up right back where you started after graduating from the University of Chicago with your PhD, but things never usually went as you planned.  

"Big ten year reunion for you tomorrow night," said Veronica, your closest friend from work. "Are you excited?" You and she were sitting at a small table in a trendy bar near campus.

You just shrugged and swirled the last sip of your beer around in your pint glass. "Honestly? Not really. I haven't kept in contact with that many people I graduated with, and I probably wouldn't be going if I wasn't already living in town."

You pictured your cute rental house with the crooked fence and crumbling front step. It was only a few blocks from where you had lived your senior year. 

"I'm sure you'll have fun!" Veronica said with a grin. "And if everyone sucks, you can rub it in that you have your PhD from one of the most prestigious programs in the country. And that you were published in Mathematics of Tomorrow when you were only twenty two." 

You laughed. "I think you are overestimating how many people I plan on talking to. Maybe I'll see someone I know, but I'm just going for the free drinks and dinner, and then heading home."

"Yeah, you better head home early! Head home and make a decision for the fall! You are the only person I know who has ever been offered a tenure track at six colleges at once!"

You just waved your hand. "I have it narrowed down to Miami and San Diego. The other offers were kind of bogus, to be honest."

"Either way, you'll be somewhere warmer than Chicago," Veronica said with a shrug.

"I will cheers to that," you said, tipping your nearly empty pint of beer to her nearly empty glass of chardonnay. "Now, I need to run home before I meet this guy John for a second date."

Veronica made a face and shook her head. "That's the most generic name ever. And he sounded boring when you described him."

You just sighed. "Well, he was boring, but giving someone a second chance never hurt anyone."

You waved down your waiter for the check and handed him cash for the drinks. 

"Want to walk out with me?" Veronica asked, checking the time. 

"You go ahead, I'm going to use the ladies' room before I head out. See you on Monday?" 

"I can't wait to hear all about your class reunion!"

You just shook your head and waved over your shoulder as you went to use the restroom. When you finished washing your hands, you glanced in the mirror. You were having such a good hair and makeup day, it was almost a given that you'd look like a clown or a wet dog for the reunion tomorrow night.

You straightened out your short, blue dress and headed for the bar exit. You ducked past a server who was carrying a tray of drinks, almost bumping some of the patrons seated at the bar in the process. 

But as you walked past the guy sitting on the end, you slowed down a little bit. Even from behind, you knew he was going to be handsome. He had broad shoulders and thick, wavy brown hair. Just what you liked. 

Just what you'd loved, actually. Since college.

You tucked your hair behind your ear and glanced at him as you turned toward the door, but you stopped dead in your tracks.

The scars. You knew those scars by heart. You'd touched his cheek and his neck so many times, you'd be able to describe them in your sleep. You'd thought about his face more than you should have. You'd thought about his body next to yours. You'd imagined what could have been.

But now Bradley Bradshaw was right in front of you, leaning his forearms against the bar and watching sports highlights while he played with the label on his beer bottle. 

Only now he was all grown up. 

"Beer Boy?" you asked softly, and he spun in his seat to face you so quickly it made you smile. 

He just gaped at you, his eyes softly searching your face and dipping down as far as your neck before he licked his lips and grinned.

"Sugar."

Your belly swooped, and you were afraid you actually gasped out loud. His voice was even deeper than you remembered. You took a step closer to him, and his grin lit up his eyes. God, you could remember everything with him. Every bittersweet feeling came flooding back.

"I can't believe it's you." A giggle escaped your lips as you spoke, and his grin faltered a bit as his eyes landed on your lips. 

He had a mustache now, and his hair was a little shorter than it was ten years ago. And he was so big and impossibly handsome. 

"It's me," he said, his eyes flicking back up to yours. "And I guess you really are Doctor Sugar now?"

"Yes," you said before you bit your lip, remembering how many times he had called you that. 

He shook his head, and that crooked grin was back. "Chicago was lucky to have you."

You felt your cheeks grow warm as his eyes roamed your face. He looked good. He looked so fucking good. 

"You're still in the Navy?" you managed to ask as you inched ever closer to him. He turned his stool a little more to face you, his legs splayed apart with one hand resting on his thigh.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I'm Lieutenant Bradshaw these days."

You looked him up and down in his fitted pants and black tee shirt that really hugged his chest and biceps. "I can just picture you in your uniform."

When your gaze settled on his face again, you saw hunger there that had you squeezing your thighs gently together. 

"I wear a flight suit a lot of the time," he said in the raspiest tone you'd ever heard from him.

You pressed your lips together before you whispered, "You're just so much bigger now. You really filled out." 

Part of you recognized that you should be embarrassed at saying that, but it felt like no time had passed at all. It felt like all those years ago you had turned back around, climbed back in bed with him and told him you never wanted to break up, ever.

"Yeah, I guess basic training will do that to a guy," he said casually, but his eyes were making you feel so warm. "Can I buy you a drink, Sugar?"

The fact that nobody had called you Sugar in the past ten years was not lost on you, but nothing had ever felt more right. You had missed him, thought about him frequently, too. Especially during those years you spent in Chicago.

"Yeah," you agreed with a slight nod, praying you weren't about to embarrass yourself. "As long as your girlfriend doesn't mind." He wasn't wearing a ring, but you needed to know for sure. 

He just smirked. "Well, yeah, she would have absolutely minded if I was buying drinks for my beautiful ex-girlfriend. But we broke up two months ago, so I'm single."

"I see," you said, trying to bite back your smile, but you knew he was onto you. 

"So what are you drinking?" he asked, already raising two fingers toward the bartender to get his attention.

"The good beer," you said softly. 

And then Bradley turned toward you with a longing look that reminded you of ten years ago. "You still remember everything, Sugar?" he asked, his brows scrunching together as he took a deep breath and waited for you to answer.

"Everything," you confirmed with a nod. 

"Another beer for you?" the bartender asked Bradley before he turned toward you as well. 

"Make it two. Please," Bradley confirmed, and you shifted a little closer to him. 

When the bartender returned with two bottles, Bradley shifted on his stool to stand.

"Have a seat," he told you, but you placed your hand on his very muscular chest and stopped him.

"No, stay where you are," you told him, pushing him gently back down. When he eased himself back against the stool, you tucked yourself closer so your hip was nudging the inside of his knee. "Is this okay?"

"Yep," he said, quickly grabbing both of the beers and handing you one. "It's okay," he added as his cheeks started to grow pink.

When he shifted around in his seat, his leg rubbed against you, and you needed to start a new conversation to keep from moaning. 

"You're in town for the reunion?" you asked quickly.

"Yeah," he confirmed after taking a sip of beer. "I was in Virginia for work. It made sense to try to stop by. Where are you living these days?"

You laughed, and it seemed to make him more comfortable. "Like six streets over. I'm working at UVA."

"No way," he said with another grin. "You're teaching here?"

"Yeah, but only for another couple of weeks. I'm trying to decide between two tenure positions."

"Which schools?" he asked softly, and you couldn't help but think he kept intentionally bumping you with his knee. 

"University of Miami and San Diego State."

His eyes went wide as he sucked in a short breath. "That's great," he told you, looking at you in awe now. "I still can't believe you teach math to a bunch twenty year old guys."

"Why not?" you asked with a laugh. 

Bradley turned his head to face the bar and took a long drink of beer. He gave you side eye and said, "I would have died if you were my math teacher, Sugar. Trying to teach me calculus, looking like that? Please, I'd have failed the class."

"What? Why?"

"Come on," he said, turning fully back and giving you a playfully annoyed look. "You're just as gorgeous as you were ten years ago. Maybe moreso. I mean...you filled out, too."

Your mouth was hanging open and your heart was pounding erratically. 

"But at least your students don't know about your math tattoo. So I guess they don't have it so bad. Me on the other hand? I wouldn't last a minute in your lecture."

"Bradley," you gasped, but he just kept his eyes on you while he finished his beer.

Your phone started vibrating in your clutch purse which you were gripping tightly in your sweaty hand. You set down your beer and pulled it out to see that John had been texting you.

"Shit," you muttered, and Bradley adjusted himself in his seat again, eyes still on you. 

"You need to go?" he asked, and it sounded like he was dreading the answer. 

"I...just need to send a quick text, actually," you replied, setting your purse down on the bartop and frantically typing back to John. "I'm just going to cancel my plans."

When you lowered your phone and set it down on your purse, he asked you, "Are you seeing someone then?"

"No," you replied quickly. "It was just a second date." You would have canceled plans with anyone to stay here longer. 

Bradley's grin was slowly creeping back. "Did you just cancel a date for me?"

You scoffed playfully. "Yeah, but he was boring anyway."

"That'll never do. Not for you. You deserve the best."

You looked at him carefully, letting your palm rest on his knee. "Is that why I had you?"

"Hmm," he hummed teasingly. "I would assume so." 

You just stood there for a minute, barely moving at all, except for your fingertips moving against his muscular thigh. "I missed you. When I was in Chicago," you whispered, and he was nodding right away.

"I missed you, too. Had a hard time at first. I thought about you a lot."

"I thought about you all the time," you replied, your heartbeat picking up in tempo again. 

Bradley nudged you a little closer with his knee, and you willingly went. "I still think about you sometimes," he whispered.

You sighed softly, and he sat up a little straighter, his face closer to yours. You felt like you could melt against him, if you thought that was a good idea. Which it was not.

A loud group of college students entered the bar and made their way toward the crowded tables, jostling you and bumping your butt in the process. You stepped further into Bradley's personal space to make room, bumping both of his thighs with your hips. 

His sharp intake of breath and slow exhale had you meeting his eyes and withdrawing your hand from the top of his thigh.

"No," he told you, grabbing your hand and then gently pressing it where it had been. You looked down and saw you were standing precariously close to him; if you moved your hand just a little bit, it would be on his zipper. "It's okay," he murmured, bringing his hand to your hip. 

This felt very good.

"I like your mustache," you told him, blurting out the first idiotic thing that came to your mind. Of course you liked it. He looked great with it. You weren't even aware you actually liked facial hair before this moment.

"Thanks," he said softly, and his eyes grew wider as you brought your other hand up to run your fingers along his mustache. His lips parted, but he didn't move otherwise.

"You couldn't grow one of these in college," you told him with a laugh. 

"No," he replied, his lips skimming along your fingertips. "Would have looked ridiculous."

Your soft laughter seemed to spur him on as his huge hand wrapped around your hip and settled on your lower back. 

Oh god, you wanted him. So badly. You needed him. You had never stopped feeling this way about Bradley Bradshaw.

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

Bradley had often wondered what it would be like to see you again. At first the idea of it haunted him; it was the only thing he wanted, but he figured it was never going to happen. 

Then as he got older, thoughts of you would jump into the forefront of his mind when he least expected it. He always figured you were doing everything you wanted to do. He thought you would be married by now. He was absolutely certain you would have found someone better than him. 

But you made him better. He grew into a man because of you. Every girlfriend he had since you broke his heart should have honestly written you a thank you letter.

But the crazy thing was, Bradley wasn't surprised in the least that he still felt a connection to you right now. His heart was leaping in his chest, elation pouring through his body. 

Your beautiful face was a few inches from his and you were touching his mustache. Your other hand was on his leg, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from guiding you closer with his palm on your lower back. Your gaze was still sharp, and you were just as witty as he remembered. And you were so perfect, he never wanted to stop looking at you.

"Maybe your mustache would have looked ridiculous ten years ago, but it looks good now," you told him. He wanted to kiss you. He thought he was going to, when you added, "You look so handsome."

"You're fucking gorgeous, Sugar," he told you, and he was treated to a radiant smile as your fingers rubbed the end of his mustache and trailed along to the faded scars on his cheek. "You always have been."

You were softly sighing as you examined him. 

"You look like you want to ask me something," he told you, and you nodded the tiniest bit.

"Yeah," you confirmed with a soft laugh. "But I'm scared."

"Don't be scared. Just ask." He would be honest with you, no matter what you asked him.

"When you think about me... what do you think about?"

A montage of images rushed through his mind, and he swallowed hard. Your lips parted with a little gasp like you just knew some of his thoughts on the matter were completely filthy. 

His cock was getting a little hard as he let his mind settle on the first time he got you off. "I think about that study room, Sugar. And how cute you looked in my bathrobe. And I think about how effortlessly you made me want to change my ways."

Bradley started to close the distance between you, and you cupped his cheek as your lips brushed his in the softest kiss.

"Beer Boy," you whispered, nudging his lips with yours again. But you were already pulling away as he was trying to get closer. 

Then you asked, "Do you want to know what comes to my mind when I start thinking about you?"

"Tell me."

You licked your lips before you said, "I think about your Navy desk lamp. And I think about your bedroom door. Nobody else has ever done anything like that for me."

Bradley kissed your lips nudging your nose with his. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, Sugar." 

You threaded your fingers through his hair, and Bradley was absolutely aching for you now. He wanted to take you to his hotel room. He wanted to make you feel so good. 

You had your hand incredibly close to his cock as you looked him in the eye and said, "And when I think about you, Bradley, I think about the fact that nobody else has made me cum as good in the last ten years."

"Shit," he groaned, growing harder by the second as you sighed and moved your hand higher.

Bradley had to take your hand in his to stop you. But it was your wide pupils that had him shifting his right knee so it rubbed against your core. 

You sucked in a deep breath and gasped, gently grinding yourself against him as your eyes drifted closed. 

"Sugar," he groaned. "Please tell me you're coming back to my hotel room."

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

Ahhhh!!!! They are back! Seemingly picking up right where they left off! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

PART 2

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[daisynik7]

Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 2: After I Love You

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.0k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary, cowgirl), nipple play, cunnilingus, fingering, slight bondage, cream pie, sex without a condom, pet names (sweetheart, baby), daddy kink (very brief)

Summary: You and Nanami say I love you for the first time in your childhood bedroom, where you almost get carried away. That night, the two of you continue what you started.

Author’s Notes: Here is the second spicy side story for A Bento for Kento! This is the smutty aftermath of The Apple of His Eye Chapter 1, in case anyone wants to read that first if you haven’t already! Anyways, this is a repost (I originally posted this last year), but it’s been edited and rewritten to match my current style. I hope you enjoy! Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

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Kento, I love you. 

I really love you, Kento.

Waves of euphoria ripple throughout Nanami when he hears her say it. For a second, he stays still, unable to move. He can only stare at her with wide eyes, speechless. Then, without thinking, he kisses her full on the lips, his composure crumbling from the weight of those words. 

She loves him. And he loves her. They love each other. 

Before he knows it, he’s on top of her, dress all the way up to her neck, lips wet from kissing, his cheeks hot and tinted pink as he explores her almost bare body. It isn’t until he hears stomping when he realizes he’s about to make love to his girlfriend in her childhood bedroom during a family party. A party where he just met her parents, who are right below them. 

They break apart promptly, Ren swinging the door open to invite them to a game of charades. Good, clean, innocent fun. Unlike what they were about to partake in if they weren’t so conveniently interrupted. It’s for the best, Nanami thinks, as he stands with his back towards the door, hiding the growing bulge in his pants from his former student/future brother-in-law. If they continued down that dangerous road, there’s no way they would have kept quiet. Not with the emotions that they have for each other now.

Show me how much you love me. Tonight. Let’s finish what we started.

That’s what she suggests. Nanami doesn’t expect them to actually have sex tonight, since they are riding back to her home with Ren. So, he dismisses it as a naughty comment made in a moment of passion. 

They spend a few more hours at the party, playing charades, mingling with her family, and eating more delicious food. He takes every chance he can to touch her, from holding her hand to stroking her back. He doesn’t take his eyes off her. How can he? This sweet angel loves him. 

Near the end of the night, Ren informs them that he’ll be staying the weekend with his parents; his sister has the house all to herself. This intrigues Nanami, excites him. He’s spent the night at her place plenty of times, but with her protective younger brother sleeping in the next room, they’ve had to set boundaries with each other when it comes to intimacy. This means no sex whatsoever when Ren is there, which they’ve miraculously managed to abide by so far. 

The thought of making love to her in her house, the one forbidden sanctuary, is titillating. Too many times has he almost given into temptation as they shared her bed, bodies snuggled together, his hands always drifting to the most sensual parts of her. They’ve held back each time they kissed goodnight, the desire to go further heavy against their lips, as her brother snores on the opposite side of the wall. And now tonight, after a perfect day spent with the woman he loves, he has no intentions of holding back, not when this rare opportunity has been presented to them. He plans to take full advantage of it. 

Show me how much you love me. Let’s finish what we started.

That’s what she suggests. So that’s what they’ll do. 

~~~

As you ride the train back home, Nanami’s hand entwined with yours, a familiar sensation pools in your stomach. The news that your brother is staying at your parent’s house changes everything. The thought of being alone in your home with Nanami sparks a flame that ignites your entire being. Will you be able to control yourself once you step through that door? Your house is quite small, but even the bedroom seems too far away. You’re tempted to let him have you on the couch, maybe the kitchen counter. Whatever is closer, really. 

Lost in your dirty thoughts, you jolt at the sudden sound of his voice in your ear. “Do you still want to finish what we started?” 

You turn to look at him, grinning. “What do you want to do?” 

There’s a heavy pause before he whispers, “I want to christen that bed of yours. Will you let me?”

You squeeze your thighs together, throbbing between your legs. “I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” 

His nostrils flare slightly as he stares at you. The primal look in his gaze makes you think he’ll take you here on the train, in front of these other passengers. He turns his head away and takes a few deep breaths, tightening his grip on you. You can tell he’s trying to compose himself. Once the train reaches your stop, he immediately gets up and leads you past the crowds of people, speed walking all the way to your house in record time. 

You fumble through your purse to look for your keys, trembling with anticipation. He stands behind you, pawing at your waist and mouth hot on the back of your neck as you unlock the door. Once you’re inside, he pushes you gently against the wall and kisses you, tongue grazing your lips. He sheds his tan blazer as you both kick off your shoes. “Kento,” you breathe out, as he moves to your neck. Your skin is on fire under his touch. 

He says your name in return, licking a stripe behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeat, tugging at his spotted tie. He takes it off and wraps it tightly around his fingers, caressing your cheek, the fabric velvety on your skin. His thumb drags your bottom lip as he drifts down to your chest. 

“Your heart is beating so fast. Are you nervous?” He rests his forehead on yours, lids shut as he breathes deeply through his nose.

You giggle. “Not nervous. Just really, really horny.”

He smirks. “Naughty girl. I’ll take care of you.” He slides underneath your dress, rubbing you through your panties. “Always so wet for me. My good girl.” It’s dangerous the way he says it. All logical thinking is erased from your mind and the only thing you desire is to feel him inside you.

“Baby, please,” you whine, clutching his collar in your fists.  

Chuckling, he teases, “No patience for foreplay?” 

“You told me you want to christen my bed, so what are you waiting for?” you challenge him, pouting. 

“We have all night. I want to take my time with you.” As he says it, his fingers slip past the fabric of your underwear, gathering the slick to rub wet circles on your clit. You let out a stifled moan as you grind on him, yearning for more. “But how can I deny you when you’re like this? So desperate and needy for my cock. Makes me so fucking hard.” He pulls out from under your dress to lead you by the wrist into your bedroom.

You lie on the bed, dress pulled up to your stomach, sliding your panties off. Spreading your legs wide, you start playing with your clit as he watches from the end of the bed. “Do you touch yourself like this when I’m not around?” He unbuckles his belt slowly, enjoying the show you’re putting on for him. As he slides out of his pants, one leg at a time, you nod and slip a finger inside your slit. Your cheeks rush with heat, embarrassed at the lewd squelch it makes. 

“Put another one in.” He kneels in front of you now, wearing only his briefs and dress shirt, slightly unbuttoned from the top. 

Obeying his command, you insert your ring finger along with your middle. It’s nowhere near how he does it, but him watching you like this turns you on beyond belief. The hunger in his eyes, the way he bites his lower lip, the way he clutches the tie around his palm. “Play with your clit again. Show me how you like it.” He rubs the bulge in his briefs, focused on your glistening cunt. With wet fingers, you massage your clit, drawing out quiet moans from your mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re incredible. You drive me crazy, you know that?” He shoves his underwear down to reveal his hard cock. No matter how many times you’ve seen him like this, the sight still amazes you. And seeing him erect with his dress shirt on is a kink you didn’t know you had until right now. He unravels the tie from his grip. A small whimper leaves your lips, anticipating his next move.

“Can I bind your wrists? Are you okay with that?” He crawls up the bed to kneel beside you, cupping your cheek tenderly as he asks for permission. 

You kiss his palm, smiling. “Yes. Let me take my clothes off first.” Your skin prickles with excitement as you pull the dress off and unhook your bra. He places your hands above you wrapping his spotted tie around your wrists, one over the other.

His lips curl into a wicked grin, his gaze ravenous as he looks you up and down. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.” He positions himself between your legs, leaning his face towards your arousal.  “Can I taste you?” 

Holy fuck. This is something you’ve fantasized about many times. You were uncomfortable asking him to do it, unsure if he was into it or not. Your ex never really offered; he tried it once, but it was barely memorable. So, you thought maybe it was too intimate of an action to ask your boyfriend of two months to do to you.

But it’s different now. You love each other. There’s no holding back.

In a trembling voice, you respond, “Yes. Please.”

He spreads you open and without hesitation, he starts with soft kisses to your puffy clit. You moan, stomach tight with pleasure as you rut against his face, his kisses getting sloppier and deeper with each passing second. He pushes himself even closer, latching around your sensitive bud, stimulating it with his plush tongue. It’s fucking amazing. You let yourself enjoy it until the rush of ecstasy sweeps through you, pulsing into his hot, slippery mouth. “Kento, I’m coming,” you gasp.

He hums into your skin as he sucks on your clit, unrelenting until you’re slack on the sheets, spent from your orgasm. His tongue licks along your plump folds, lapping up the slick from your high, drinking you up like he’s dehydrated. “You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, as he fucks you with his mouth. You twitch at his touch, sensitive and yet, still so unbelievably horny for the man that you love.

“Fuck me, Kento. Please. Need you inside me,” you beg.

After one more flick of his tongue, he sits up on his knees. You see a pearl of precum leaking from the tip of his dick. He lets out a huff as he guides his cock to your slit, rubbing up and down your arousal. “You’re such good girl, fuck. I’m so lucky.” He continues to tease you, circling his cockhead around your clit as you squirm beneath him, bound wrists wriggling above your head. “I don’t have any lube, but we don’t need it. You came so much from just my tongue. This pretty pussy is so wet for me.” He strokes his dick as he stares wildly at your dripping cunt. 

You’re already close to your second orgasm when he slides his cock inside you, your walls surrounding his girth. Once his entire length is in, he places one hand on your inner thigh, the other at your side, clutching onto the bedsheets. You can tell you’re in for a ride. 

He starts slowly, pressing down on you gently to keep you open for him. Once you’re comfortably adjusted to his size, he speeds up. His lips tickle your ear as he whispers, “I’ve wanted this for so long. Been wanting to ruin this bed ever since I first slept in it.” 

You try to move your hips to match his rhythm, wrists still pinned above your head. All you can manage to choke out between your moans is, “Me too.” You wrap your free leg around his waist, wanting as much of your skin to be touching his. Being bound, you thought you’d be vulnerable, exposed. But with Nanami, you feel safe. You like being this open for him. He’d never do anything to hurt you. That’s one of the many reasons you love him.  

Overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure, tears well up in your eyes as he continues to make love to you. You face him, kissing him softly on the lips. He keeps still inside you, turning your body with his as he relaxes on the bed. The hand that was holding down your thigh comes up to caress your cheek as you continue to kiss. You stay like this for a while, basking in each other’s warmth. At some point, he reaches up to untie you from your bondage. At your release, you glide down his chest, cherishing his steady heartbeat.

“I love you,” he whispers between kisses. “I love you so much.”

Your voice catches in your throat. “I love you, too.”

He brushes your tears away, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Do you want to stop?”

You smile. “Not at all. These are happy tears. I’m happy.” He pulls you in closer, kissing you passionately, his cock still stiff inside you. Running your fingers through his hair, you say, “I told you earlier that I’ll let you do whatever you want with me. What do you want? Tell me, baby.” 

He thinks for a few seconds, gazing at you, full of love and lust. 

“I want you to ride me.”

~~~

Nanami lies down on the bed, watching the love of his life mount him, knees to both sides of him. They’ve never tried this before. While the sex has been nothing short of amazing these past two months, they’ve been hesitant to try new position, afraid of crossing any lines too soon. But there’s no denying that he’s been wanting this. And tonight is different. They love each other. They don’t have to hold back anymore. 

She leans down, breast in front of his face, so tempting and marvelous. He reaches for her tits, kneading at them, fondling her nipples with his thumbs. “Put them in my mouth,” he demands. She lets out a small whine as he raises his neck up to take her into his mouth, latching onto her nipple, sucking gently. 

“God, I love these tits,” he growls as he moves to the other one. He squeezes her breasts as he engulfs her sensitive teats. “All mine.”

“Fuck. Feels so good when you suck them like this.” When he starts sucking harder, she slowly pulls out, his lips making a popping sound at the release. She grinds her pussy on his lap, moaning. “I like it like this.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters, sticking out his tongue to receive her once more. “Feed it to me. Show me again how you like it.” He takes her again, his hands now on her waist, as she holds her breast for him. He sucks hard as she pulls out with another loud pop, nipple taut and plump when he releases her, shiny with his spit. His dick twitches beneath her; the need to be inside her is undeniable, unbearable if he waits any longer. 

“Ride me,” he spits out, planting his feet on the bed.

She pushes her ass back, feeling for his cock, rubbing her folds over the tip until it’s at her entrance, sinking onto him easily. Once he bottoms out, she starts thrusting back and forth. She leans over him, gripping the sheets on either side of his head, tits bouncing with every shake of her ass. He grabs her hips, reveling how expertly she rides him. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. You’re incredible like this, fucking yourself on my cock.”

“Kento. So good, oh my god,” she cries out, picking up the pace. 

He tightens his hold on her hips and starts moving with her, timing his thrusts with hers. She buries her face into his neck, whimpering as she takes it. “Can you come one more time for me, baby?” he purrs. “Let me do it. Let daddy take care of you.” 

As if those are the magic words, she lets out a luscious moan, trembling around him. “Fuck, daddy. Fuck me. Make me come.”

He squeezes her ass as he dives into her, deeper than he’s ever been before, her incoherent babbling a sign that he’s hitting her sweet spot. His body buzzes with delight and pleasure, knowing he’s making her unravel on his cock. He continues to pump into her relentlessly, his muscles spasming with each deep thrust he gives her. She continues to bounce her ass on his cock in perfect sync with him until she tightens around him. She’s close, and so is he. He slips his hand between them, thumb grazing her swollen clit. 

“Kento, I’m coming!” she whines into his neck. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He’s dizzy with ecstasy as she clenches around him, fucking her until he comes too, filling her up with his load, the excess leaking out of her fluttering hole and onto his lap. He only just remembers that he’s still in his dress shirt; he never bothered taking it off. Looking between them to inspect the damage, he finds a few spots where their cum bleeds into the hem of his shirt. 

She relaxes on top of him, breath shallow against his chest. He massages her back, cradling her in his arms. They stay like this for a moment, both exhausted from their intense love making. She rolls off him to lay at his side, eyes closed, smiling. “I love you, Kento.”

He leans in to kiss her forehead. “I love you, too.”

He’ll never get tired of hearing it. He’ll never get tired of saying it.

They love each other. All is right with the world.  

Tag List: @chiyoso @bloombb @liliorsstuff-blog

[moonbaby26]

Title: It Could be Worse (quickie one off)

Doflamingo x GN!Reader. Smutty. Power imbalance, non con, dubious consent. Reader is a slave.

It’s 3:00am. Your beloved King Riku has just rode by chopping down your neighbors while sobbing pathetically. Your house and everyone else’s is on fire. You hear the most menacing laughter that could ever be, rising above the screams.

You look up to see this emerge from the smoke of your former life.

Alarm bells are blasting and red flags are waving in your mind. But your remaining, desperate neighbors begin cheering immediately for their new savior.

This can’t be right, you think to yourself.

No, this is a nightmare.

Your nightmare.

You are promptly enslaved for years to come. But he’s extremely charismatic and he has a way of getting under your skin. You eventually convince yourself that you enjoy the small mercy of carrying his drink tray on those balmy Dressrosan days by his pool. If he pulls you into his lap to spill it all, that is what it is too. And on the nights he drags you up to his room as well, that’s just another service you’re allowed to do for your country.

He tells you that you’re such a good little patriot. And asks what he would ever do without exemplary citizens like yourself. He says these things with your legs around his waist and his sweat against your skin.

It could always be worse. As he flips you over again and a long tongue runs wet up the back of your neck, you think that surely it could always be worse.

You could have become one of Trebol or Diamante’s favorites instead. Or you could have been dead from day one like so many others. But he says you’re fun. He even likes that lingering taste of the pool water as his teeth are pressing briefly into your shoulder next.

You should be honored. You should be flattered. He even remembers your name as he’s soon growling it again with the bed creaking terribly.

He makes you thank him as he strokes you. You must also show your gratitude whenever he lets you have your own release against his bedsheets. That scent of your mutual orgasms is always so distinct. As is the stickiness of the trail of his cum across your back.

When you’ve done your duty and he’s laying down panting, there can be a temporary reprieve. Just a few minutes where he doesn’t look as cruel or frightening. He might even smile at you and grab you by the arm to lay you against his chest.

It’s not affection. He just likes the contact, even if it’s only the sweaty heat of your bodies laying together.

And then that moment will be gone as well. He’ll push you out of his bed because he needs to go shower. He’ll barely look at you as you gather your things and hurry for the door. He always has business calls to make and more important things to get back to, even this late at night.

But you might still hear a chuckle from behind you, though you know better than to ever overextend your stay here.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He taunts you sometimes, with that playful intonation of a question. But really it means you must be there poolside for him again tomorrow. His soldiers would come looking for you if you were not. They would take you from your home at gunpoint. You’d seen it happen to others. They did not come back.

But hey, it could always be worse.

“Let’s go out to dinner tomorrow.” That deep voice stops you just as you were in the hallway and about to close his door.

Yes, it had finally become much worse.

(I type random shit instead of sleeping sometimes. It’s fun, I have no regrets. 🤣)

[xiaq]

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it: Pt 3

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Now that he’s started, Eddie can’t seem to stop watching Steve Harrington.

When he goes to school on Thursday, he’s tense all day waiting for…he doesn’t even know what. Something.

And things are definitely happening. The social order of the school has suddenly been upended in a way that is imminently noticeable. By lunch everyone knows that King Steve has quit the basketball team, had a shouting match with his former best friend Tommy Hagan in the locker room, broke up with his current girlfriend, and instead of lording over the high jock table in the cafeteria is now sitting with band-geek Robin Buckley, outcast Jonathan Beyers, and nerd girls Nancy Wheeler and Barbra Holland. None of the people at the table seem to find this unusual except Barb, who is looking at her table-mates in much the same way that everyone else in the cafeteria is: with a combination of confusion, intrigue, and curiosity.

It’s hard to focus on literally anything else, though Eddie does try to keep up with the flow of conversation where he’s sat between Jeff and Gareth.

That gets harder when Steve stands, walks to the trashcan a few feet from the Hellfire table, and dumps his tray.

He meets Eddies eyes, just as intense and fucking tormented as the day before, but he only nods, maybe a little delayed, and husks out a, “hey Eddie,” before turning purposefully and walking back to his table.

When he sits, Robin reaches over to squeeze his wrist and they have a whole conversation with their eyes before they both turn to look at Eddie again.

Robin smiles shakily, gives him an awkward little wave, and he, sort of automatically, waves back.

“Ok, what the fuck,” Jeff says.

“Believe me when I say I have no idea,” Eddie answers.

He keeps waiting for it, the rest of the day–though what it is, he doesn’t know.

He tracks Steve through the hallways between periods, and each time Steve catches his eye he nods, or says, “hey Eddie,” and then just…continues on his way. They share the last period of the day: PE. And for once, Eddie doesn’t skip. He watches as Steve steps onto the court with a weird, aggressive, awareness. He dominates dodgeball with a grim determination that feels wrong in a school gymnasium. He asks and gets permission from the PE coach to spend the last half of the period in the weight room.

Eddie slips out of the gym a few minutes later––the coach is so used to him ditching at this point he doesn’t even try to stop him. He collects his backpack and lunchbox from his locker and drags his fingers down the concrete wall on his way to the double entrance doors: freedom. 

Except.

He stops.

He makes a frustrated about-face.

He stalks back the way he came, past the gymnasium and around the corner. He stands in the hall outside the weight room and looks through the smudged window in the door.

Steve is alone, working out and looking pissed about it, sweat already dampening his Hawkins Varsity Basketball T-shirt. He racks a set of weights, grabs a second set, less heavy than the ones he just put away, and curses on his way back to the bench.

He doesn’t have a walkman or anything, he’s just––working out. And not like Eddie has seen the jocks working out before: flexing and posturing and peacocking in front of the mirrors. Steve is pushing himself through chest presses like it’s a punishment, or maybe a necessary evil. Like he’s preparing to go to war or something.

Eddie doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching, but it’s long enough that Steve gets through two more sets and then wraps his hands before going to town on the punching bag. Until there’s sweat dripping down his neck and his wet hair is in his eyes; until the soft, grunted, exhalations of his exertion start to sound like sobs.

Steve stops, suddenly, his breathing loud enough that Eddie can hear it, sharp and discordant, in the hallway. Steve clings to the bag like it’s a person, face pressed to the leather, shoulders shaking, and Eddie feels like the worst kind of voyeur.

He leaves.

He goes to the picnic table in the woods to do his after-school deals, walks home, and then sits on his bed and stares at the walkie for a long, long, time.

The rest of the week is the same: Eddie waiting for something that never happens.

By the end of the following week, Eddie would think he’d imagined it all––the bathroom, the late-night visit to the trailer, the request to be friends, except the radio Steve gave him is still sitting on the window sill in this bedroom. And Steve keeps saying hello to him in the hallways and at lunch. And he never loses the slightly desperate look in his eyes when he catches and holds Eddie’s gaze across the room: a look that makes Eddie feel like he’s lost something he can’t remember.

Until Tommy Hagan happens.

Tommy Hagan often happens to the freaks. The rich popular kid shoving around the weirdos is nothing new. It’d be unusual if it didn’t happen on occasion and there's been a weird downtick in bullying since Harrington ceded the throne. Not that Steve ever hurt any of them himself before, but in the past, half the time, it felt like his underlings crumpled someone's notes or shouted slurs across hallways as a way of gaining Steve’s attention. Like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Any attention is good attention, right?

Except now, Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan are clearly both trying to take the top spot in the social hierarchy that Steve has vacated, and they’re going about it with fear rather than respect. Groundbreaking.

 While Carver is a bit more discrete with his assholery––after all, he has to stay a golden boy in the teachers’ eyes––Hagan doesn’t have a discreet bone in his body. And he tends to fall back on predictable modes of intimidation.

Eddie’s just sat down at their lunch table, hasn’t even had a chance to take a bite of his sandwich, when Hagan smacks the back of Jeff’s head next to him and drops his hands to rest, too tight, on Jeff’s shoulders.

“I’m going to need you to leave my girlfriend the fuck alone,” he snarls into Jeff’s ear. “Saw you panting after her in the hall after third period. Didn’t like that.”

“We’re partners for the science lab,” Jeff mumbles. “I have to talk to her about our project.”

“Sure.” He lets go of Jeff’s shoulders, only to hit the back of his head with the heel of his hand again. “Guess I don’t need to worry anyway, judging by how you stare at us in the showers, huh?”

And Eddie is done.

He stands, shoving Hagan away from Jeff, both palms flat to his chest, legs braced. He grew a few inches the summer before and while Eddie is still thin as a fucking bean pole he’s taller than Hagan, now. Not by much, but he isn’t as easy a target anymore and, at his core, Hagan is a coward.

“Fuck off,” Eddie snarls.

But he’s not so cowardly today.

Eddie ducks the first punch and deflects the second. He’s never actually hit someone before and he’s deeply regretting turning down Wayne when he offered to teach him as the clamor of voices rises around them.

Eddie doesn’t even realize Steve is there until he’s standing between them, his hand wrapped around Hagan’s wrist, just below his fist.

Everything goes still and anticipatory. A hush falls.

“I need you to understand,” Steve says quietly, pulling Hagan even closer to him when Hagan tries to jerk away, “that I wasn’t joking when I said things are going to be different, now.”

“What the fuck, Steve,” Hagan whines.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve continues calmly, “but I will if you keep this shit up. You leave them alone.”

The cadence of his voice, the tone, is such a contrast to Hagan’s that it makes Hagan sound like a huffing child. Steve sounds like a teacher. Or a dad. Quiet. Assured. Firm. Unbearably hot.

No.

Eddie forces himself to refocus.

“Also,” Steve says, even quieter, leaning forward so they’re nearly nose to nose. “I wouldn't be throwing around accusations about watching people shower.” He squeezes Hagan’s wrist harder. “Considering.”

Hagan’s face goes pale. The kind of pale that means fear rather than anger.

Eddie knows the look on Hagan's face because Eddie has worn it before, and the second-hand terror, the empathetic rush of fight or flight, leaves him briefly frozen, winded.

“Do we understand each other?” Steve says, his voice still barely above a whisper. Eddie is pretty sure he’s the only one hearing this exchange and he wishes that wasn’t true because he desperately wants someone to confirm that he’s not hallucinating.

“You wouldn’t,” Hagan hisses. “You can’t.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” Steve says. 

Eddie certainly feels the truth in that.

“Go sit down,” Steve instructs, just as even as mild as he started. “And maybe pass on the word to Jason. It’ll be easier if I didn't have to have this conversation again.”

Hagan wrenches his arm away from Steve with a muttered “fuck you,” but he turns tail and retreats, straight back into the hall with a slam of his palms to the crash bar on the door.

And then, in the silence that follows, Steve pushes back his disheveled hair, glancing around, and sits. At the Hellfire table. 

He nods for Eddie to sit back down across from him, in his customary seat, which Eddie does. Slowly.

The rest of the guys say nothing.

“Hey, so,” Steve says, apparently oblivious to the tumult he’s caused. He leans forward, weight on his elbows, looking earnest and so fucking swoon-worthy Eddie wants to punch a wall. “I need to get the details about the new campaign from you. When does it start and what time do we meet?”

“What the fuck,” Jeff says quietly

“You play D&D?” Gareth asks.

“You want to play D&D with us?” Jeff clarifies.

“Yeah,” Steve glances between them, then settles his attention, like a habit, back on Eddie. “Didn’t Eddie tell you?”

“I didn’t know if you were serious,” Eddie manages.

“I’m serious,” Steve says. 

The statement feels loaded.

“Right. Well. We meet in the theater room on Friday nights. Six to nine. The new campaign starts next week and I need your character details at least 48 hours beforehand.”

“I think my character is ready now, but if you wouldn’t mind looking over it with me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure,” he says faintly.

“What are you doing after school today?”

“Nothing.”

“Band practice,” Gareth says, kicking him under the table. “Right after school. Like we do every Wednesday.”

“Right. Band practice.”

“I could pick you up after? We can grab dinner and talk about my character then?”

“Sure,” Eddie says. “We practice at Gareth’s house. On Mt. Olive. Should be done around five-thirty.”

Steve slaps the table and stands. “I’ll see you then.” He pauses. “Oh, I meant to ask. How did your audition thing at Hideout go last weekend?”

“We got the slot,” Eddie says, and then, with forced bravado. “So I guess you’ll have to come see us play some time.”

Steve grins. “That’s awesome. Congratulations, guys. I’ll definitely come this weekend. Might bring Rob and Nance, too, maybe Jonathan if he’s up for it.”

“Sure,” Eddie says again. 

Steve’s hand drops, just for a second, to Eddie’s shoulder. It squeezes.

And then he’s gone––back to his table.

“I have so many questions,” Gareth says.

“I promise you I have more,” Eddie mutters.

Pt. 4

[giggly-squiggily]

I Make You Laugh The Most (Blue Lock)

Hi hello I'm so incredibly soft for these two holy-

Hi eveyone! Welcome back to "Squiggily's brain is on Blue Lock Mode"- in which I write tons of it because I can :P This little ol' fic was a gift for a friend (you know who you are :3) that I decided to post because why not? Have some more Bachisagi I say! I hope y'all like it! :D

CW: Blue Lock Second Selection Spoilers!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps)

@myreygn @cupcake-spice13

Summary: Bachira overhears Isagi laughing- which is great. However, he wasn't the one who made him laugh. Not so great.

“Pfft- no you dihihihidn’t!”

Bachira perked up at the melodious sound, heart racing in his chest as he turned to look. Isagi’s laugh was so wonderful- deep and warm, punctured with silly noises and snorts. Anytime he heard it, it filled him with glee.

Right now, however, he felt a pinch of defeat alongside it.

“We did! Reo was LIVID. He looked like a titan from Attack On Titan!” Chigiri grinned as he retold a story to Isagi about his former teammates, sending the brunette into a fit of endless giggles. They were coming back from the baths it seemed, Chigiri’s hair was wet and Isagi was flushed from the heat. “He’s so expressive!”

“Pfft- not AOT!” Isagi shoved him lightly as they turned the corner into their shared room. “Man, you should have gotten a picture!”

The rest of their conversation was lost, but the sting in Bachira’s chest remained. He leaned against the wall, a slight pout on his lips as he replayed the lovely sound again and again in his mind.

“...Hm.” Rin hummed from behind him, making Bachira blink.

“What?”

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be jealous.” The taller boy shrugged, fighting down a yawn and almost missing Bachira’s wide eyed stare. “It’s not like those two are a thing. Pretty boy’s head over heels for the buff hero dude, yeah? Or was it the lazy one?”

“I-me-what-” Bachira was in a rare state of stupefaction. “That’s not it at all!”

“Kay.” Rin turned to go, making his way towards the workout room- likely for yoga. Bachira found himself following.

“It’s just- Isagi and I: I’ve always made him laugh, you know? Me! Like- don’t get me wrong, Missy’s great, and he can be funny in a sort of dry- when you least expect it kinda way you know? I don’t know- I haven’t seen Isagi in forever and I miss him-Whaa!” Bachira yelped as he tripped, falling face first into a pile of yoga mats. Rin only blinked before slowly pulling one out from the brooding dribbler.

“If it bothers you that bad, why not go make him laugh, then?” Rin suggested, tugging off his shirt and tossing it aside.

“He’s not on my team yet, Rin-Rin!” Bachira whined against the mats, unfazed when the shirt landed over his face. “It’s not the same! Plus, he’s still thinking about Reo’s titan face- whatever that means- it’s not my victory if ChiChi’s thing’s still rent free in his head!”

“Gonna have to change that.” Rin mumbled so quietly that Bachira almost didn’t catch it. “Look, I’m doing my cooldown. Either grab a mat and shut up or go complain to someone else.” Rin gave him one last look before taking his spot in the corner of the gym. Bachira stared for a moment before standing up, grabbing his mat and dragging it over beside him.

He napped the entire time.

~~~

“If it bothers you that bad, why not go make him laugh, then?”

Bachira didn’t think the words would stick like they did, haunting his mind relentlessly as he watched Isagi grab dinner. Maybe Rin had a point- maybe he DID need to make him laugh to fix this bothersome jealousy. He didn’t like how it lingered, coating his insides and making him feel all sorts of broody.

“Is this seat taken?” Isagi smiled as he walked up, two trays in hand. There was no rule saying you had to eat with your teammates- currently Aryu was interrogating Chigiri on his haircare routine while Nagi was half-slumped against him, slowly eating his rice like a drugged sloth.

“Yep- that one’s the monster’s seat.” Bachira kicked a heel up on the seat across from him, stealing it away. “But the one beside me’s available.”

“Thank you.” Isagi grinned as he slid in, sliding the extra tray his way. The dribbler was so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t even realized he forgot to eat. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I used some points and got us steak. Hope that’s okay.”

Anything is okay with you. Bachira almost said out loud. Instead, he grinned, stabbing a fork into Isagi’s food and holding it up, waving it before him. “Say ahhhh~”

“Bachira- I told you before, I can feed myself.” Isagi dodged a few times, a grin pulling on his lips as they fell back into their old game. Finally, he gave in, letting the other shove the fork into his mouth. “One day I’m gonna be so spoiled from you doing that I’ll forget how to hold a fork.”

“I’ll gladly feed you, Isagirin~” He winked, delighted in the blush painting Isagi’s face. No giggles though. The pinch returned. “How’s the team going?”

“It’s hell.” Isagi laughed, shaking his head. “Barou’s a neat freak, Nagi’s lazy, and Chigiri’s ever the princess.” His voice was fond though as he cut into his meal, chewing slowly. “But I like it. It’s a fun kind of chaos, yeah?” He smiled at Bachira, almost missing the dimming of his mood. “You’d fit right in.”

That perked him up almost immediately. Bachira smiled as Isagi went on sharing his adventures of their time apart, pride and sorrow touching his voice nearly as much as the giggles he let out recounting the great “King’s Bad Hair Day” incident. It was so, so nice to see him smiling and laughing.

And yet…and yet… “Bachira? You seem sad.” Isagi blinked, tilting his head curiously at the other. Bachira blinked, not even realizing he was letting it show. “You okay?”

“Yeah…yeah! I’m great!” Bachira put on his brightest grin. “I’m okay, really.”

Isagi narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Then he reached out and stabbed Bachira’s steak, bringing a piece up. “Say ahhhh~” He quoted, easily shoving it in his mouth with how surprised Bachira looked. “After tomorrow- we’ll be back together. I promise you; I’m bringing you home.”

Bachira pretended the sudden wetness in his eyes was from how hot the meat was burning on his tongue.

~~~

Isagi was a man of his word. Well-kinda.

No he didn’t necessarily WIN, but they were once again together. Bachira was reeling from it all still; the final shot that sealed the deal, the nervousness he felt when it was time to pick someone. Then the tearful glee he felt when Rin called out Isagi’s name.

That was a few days ago and yet it still felt so new whenever he was with Isagi. Isagi, who didn’t have to retreat to a different room at the end of the day. Isagi, who could now play soccer beside him instead of against.

Just…Isagi.

He couldn’t be happier.

“We made it this far, I can’t believe it.” Isagi sighed against his pillows, tired after a long day of drills and exercise. “It got scary for a moment there.” “Yeah- it’s still scary when you think about it. Look what happened to Kunigami.” Bachira stretched out beside him, staring up at the ceiling as the past few days hit him. “Is Chi-Chi okay?”

“Heartbroken, but he won’t admit it.” Isagi smiled a little sad at the mention of their former teammates. “I think I heard him crying the other night.” Isagi’s hand found his, squeezing it tightly. “Selfish as it is to say…I’m glad it wasn’t us. One wrong move against the wrong team and that would have been you and me.”

“Mm…” Bachira hummed, squeezing it back. “Chigiri’s tough though. He’ll be okay.”

“He’s no fragile princess, that’s for sure.” Isagi nodded. “Sorry, I killed the vibe.”

“Don’t be- I can bring it back.” Bachira, eager to lift the mood, raised his hands, wiggling his fingers. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in the mood for a good chuckle!”

“Are you now? Bring it on, bumblebee!” Isagi grinned, sitting up with his own claws. His eyes danced with challenge only for him, something Bachira missed for quite some time. There was a moment of silence as they watched each other before-

“GOTCHA!” Bachira cried, lunging and grabbing Isagi’s waist, pulling him into the sheets. Pillows and limbs flew as they wrestled in the bed, each trying to get the other hand. Isagi was already laughing, Bachira hadn’t even tickled him yet! He tried to pin him but instantly shot his arms back with a squeal when Bachira’s own kneaded the spot along the center of his ribs. “Gotcha now!”

“Ahehahahhahhahah! Bahahhahaha-Bahhahahhahchirahhahahahahahha!” Isagi cackled, doubling over in a fit of giggles as he tried gently pushing his boyfriend's hands away. It didn’t take long before the dribbler had him on his back against the bed, one hand on his ribs while the other pushed up his sweatshirt so he could drill into his belly. “Pleahhahahahhahase, it tihiihihihihihickles!”

“I know!” Bachira grinned, chest puffing with pride as Isagi flailed beneath him, cackling in glee. “That’s why I’m tickling you, Isagirin~” He leaned in so he was nose to nose with him, fingers dancing along his waist and sides. “I wanna make you laugh so much you explode!”

“Yohohohohoou ahahahahreahhahahday doohohooohoh thahahhahahat! Gehahahhaahhahahaha, Bahahahhachirahahahhahahaha!” Isagi’s nose was scrunched as he laughed, turning his face away to hide it as he weakly pawed at Bachira’s shoulders. “Iihihihihihim alhahhhahahhays lahahahhahaughing with you!”

“Really? You really mean that?” Bachira stopped his tickles flopping closer so he was once again nose to nose with Isagi. “I really make you laugh the most?”

“Ohohoof course you do!...Are you okay? You seem rather hung up on it.” Isagi was still smiling, but there was an unmistakable touch of concern in his gaze.

Bachira felt himself freeze. He’d been caught. “Well…maybe.” He flopped down so his face was against Isagi’s chest, cuddling close. Somehow it was easier to say these things to his beating heart than to his eyes. “I don’t know- I’ve been really…bothered lately. Whenever I hear you laugh, I get really happy; but I also get frustrated because for a while it wasn't me making you laugh like that, you know?” The dribbler sighed through his nose, feeling weirdly embarrassed. “Sounds kinda dumb, huh? Being jealous because someone else makes you laugh?”

“Hm.” Isagi made a noise of thought, his hand stroking Bachira’s hair. “I don’t think so, no. If anything- it’s kinda cute.” He grinned, deeply amused by the flush spreading over Bachira’s ears. “First you get real with me and now you’re blushing! Who are you and what have you done with my Bachira?”

“Shush! I’m still me!” Bachira sat up, pinching Isagi’s nose until the other was giggling like crazy. “But…you really don’t think anything less of me because of it?”

“On the contrary. I think I’ve just fallen harder for you.” Isagi’s eyes were warm, his voice genuine. Bachira felt his eyes sting again- goodness why was he so weepy lately? “I mean- I’d probably disapprove if you went on and shaved Chigiri’s head in his sleep over it.”

Bachira tittered, snapped right out of his tears. That’s the thing he loved most about Isagi- he always seemed to know what he needed. “Are you kidding? Missy would kill me if I did that! We’d have a murder in Blue Lock!”

“Best not get caught then- or find a way to blame someone else.” Isagi giggled with him, pulling him down into his chest before kissing him softly. “I’d take the fall for you.”

“No way- I lost you once; I’m not losing you again.” Bachira grabbed onto his sweatshirt. “You’re mine now.”

“And I yours.”

Thanks for reading!

[aerialsquid]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 16: Third-rate

"You're even going to Populares meetings now or something?"

"They make some good points. Representative leadership is important for pureblood Garleans too, and there's nothing treasonous about discussing ideas openly and fairly."

"You sound like one of their pamphlets."

Akitsu had spent a lot of time watching Victor, for reasons that were none of anyone's business. He could now see the slight changes in body language that said Victor was trying to politely rush someone out the door, the way his fingers tensed as he picked up a stylus and clasped it tight to his palm to calm himself. 

Akitsu also pretended to be cleaning the examination tables, falling into that quiet 'part of the furniture' routine that meant Garleans forgot you were in the room.

"Little puppy finally knots a woman and suddenly you're a whole different person? I'm only here for two days, don't leave me suffering alone here."

The other man, a full foot and a half taller than Victor with his sandy hair brushed and oiled back from his forehead to emphasize his third eye, leaned over Victor, their hands just barely touching.

"I'm a father now, Marcus. I have to be more responsible." Victor kept finding reasons not to look Marcus in the face as he rearranged his medical files. "I don't fool around like that anymore."

"Even papas get to have fun, you know. Come on, puppy. I know you still like your men dangerous." Marcus leaned in closer, whispering just loud enough that Akitsu could still hear. "I could put on a pair of horns for you, if that's what you like now."

Akitsu saw the flash of Victor's bared teeth reflected in the curve of a bedpan, the reflexive way Victor glanced at the back of Akitsu's head. Marcus may have forgotten Akitsu was here, but Victor clearly hadn't. "Can we not have this conversation here?" he offered, the steel in his voice changing to a wheedling plea.

Marcus grinned like a tiger. "Sure, sure. Let's go off somewhere alone and chat about it. I saw a broom closet down the hallway…"

Akitsu looked up to the big wire rack of supplies and sanitizing fluid. His lips pressed together, firm, before his fingers latched into the gaps in the rack and in a single smooth movement pulled the entire shelf down on his own head.

"Fuck!" The sound of crashing metal sent Marcus flinching so hard he nearly knocked Victor's desk over. 

Victor dropped his stylus and rushed to Akitsu's side, wide-eyed, already checking him over for injuries. "Oh shit, Ryuo–"

"Oops," said Akitsu flatly, from among the pile of wet metal.

"Sorry, I need to clean this up." Victor stacked the bedpans emphatically, muttering about how that shelf had been unsafe for weeks and he'd been telling them to replace it.

Marcus scowled. If he suspected anything, he didn't have the courage to let it spill from his lips, but his expression was dour as he left. "Yeah, yeah. We'll talk later."

Victor let out a soft breath as the door slammed behind Marcus. Akitsu did the same, but only when Victor wasn't looking.

"Sorry. Former colleague of mine from when I was stationed in Werlyt. I guess his unit was passing through. I'm sorry you had to - that wasn't really your. Uh."

"Not my business," Akitsu grunted. He went for the mop while Victor stacked up trays and pushed the shelf back into position.

"I don't do that sort of thing anymore, anyway. I can't now."

"Of course." 

"Not that - I don't mean with men. There's nothing wrong with that, you know. But not men who are…" Victor looked on the verge of swallowing his own tongue, which was probably the only thing that would stop him from babbling.

I know you like your men dangerous. 

Victor sat back on his knees, hands folded before him. "It would have to be someone I could trust. I can't take risks anymore, not with Tina around. I haven't since she was born."

"And there's no one here you trust?"

Victor's eyes went up to him, round and soft. Something about them seized Akitsu's heart and squeezed it tight like a fist around an egg, sending aching cracks shooting through it. Then Victor looked away and the sensation faded. 

"Well, you know how it is," Victor said. He did not elaborate on the statement. Akitsu felt he did not, in fact, know how it was, but continued mopping up the mess regardless.

Lying in his bunk later that night, still smelling faintly of rubbing alcohol, Akitsu still did not know how it was. If anything, he felt that he knew even less about how it was than he did earlier that morning. 

[madamadragon]

my insomnia has struck again, here's a very small fic

don't take it seriously

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

A GREAT SOLUTION

Nobody. No one had shown up. They had opened more than two hours ago and there wasn't a soul there.

He Xiaohui, Fang Duobing's mother, had recently paid for a spa that was once renowned for its miraculous springs.

She believed that by renovated it, it would return it to its former glory bringing great profits but not a single person showed up at the inauguration.

Fang Duobing sighed, his cheek resting on the palm of his hand. He was sitting in the lobby waiting for customers who clearly would never come.

His mother had asked him to help her welcome the guests but at this rate he would die of boredom. His mother always made bad investments.

"Your mother must have been disappointed," a voice called from the entrance.

He looked up at it and as soon as he saw who it belonged to he jumped up.

"Li Lianhua! What are you doing here?"

"Master He had invited us to the inauguration but we were late," explained Li Lianhua, reaching the boy followed as always by Di Feisheng.

Those two had a strange relationship, something Fang Duobing couldn’t figure out. They were always next to each other and I often exchanged long looks and half smiles.

He shook his head, freeing himself from that thought, now the priority was the spa.

"The opening was two hours ago," Fang Duobing scolded him.

"There doesn’t seem to be much lost," Di Feisheng grinned, looking around.

"You!" Fang Duobing exclaimed outraged, trying to kick him.

"Ayo, leave him be" Li Lianhua said, grabbing the boy by the arm and blocking his attempt to hit the former Jinyuan alliance leader.

"It would be better to find a way to help your mother, Xiaobao" 

"It’s a kind thought Li gongzi" thanked him Master He entering the lobby.

Li Lianhua made a slight bow in greeting.

"We can discuss this over a cup of tea," Tian Ji Hall’s master continued, urging a waitress to bring the trays.

While passing the cups to the various guests, the young maid, intimidated by the presence of Di Feisheng, accidentally poured the hot drink on his clothes.

"I’m s-sorry!" She stuttered in panic.

"It’s nothing serious," the doctor comforted her with one of his gentle smiles.

The girl made a quick bow and then ran away.

"You scare everyone," Fang Duobing muttered as he followed the waitress with his eyes.

Di Feisheng did not answer and simply took off the top layer of clothes that had become wet.

Fang Duobing at that sight wided his eyes. The great leader of the Jinyuan alliance stood almost shirtless in the atrium of a spa at the sight of all.

And what a sight. Broad shoulders and abs sculpted.

"Xiaobao, close your mouth or you’ll get bugs in it," Li Lianhua laughed.

Fang Duobing turned to him sulking. The doctor did not seem to be surprised by the sight of Di Feisheng’s body, as if he was used to seeing it that way.

That those two were having an affair?! This explained Li Lianhua’s nocturnal visits to Di Feisheng’s room when they stayed at an inn or disappeared for several hours and then returned as if nothing had happened.

Fang Duobing stared at the doctor in astonishment with an exaggerated expression of betrayal on his face.

"I just had an idea," exclaimed his mother.

He turned and noticed that she was grinning as she looked towards the door.

He followed her gaze and saw several girls who had stopped in front of the spa and who giggled among them eyeing Di Feisheng in all its beauty.

"I need to borrow A-Fei," smiled Master He.

Fang Duobing snapped at her perplexed.

"A-Fei?" Since when did she call him that?

"If my son calls him A-Fei, I don’t see why I can’t do it!" 

Master He approached Di Feisheng with a big smile and then wrapped her hands around his bicep.

"I feel this will be a great idea"

------

And so it was that shortly after the new spa was flooded with customers.

"I can’t believe it," Fang Duobing said in disbelief as he watched people go in and out.

His mother’s plan was to put Di Feisheng at the entrance and show off his chest, thus attracting women and girls, thus creating an interest in the spa by bringing other customers.

And so it had been. Di Feisheng was leaning against the counter with his arms folded with a bored expression on his face, drawing everyone’s attention.

"But how did he convince A-Fei?"

"I convinced him," Li Lianhua explained as he positioned himself next to him.

Fang Duobing turned to him curious.

"How?"

"A favor in exchange for a secret"

Fang Duobing raised a confused eyebrow.

"I thought you were done keeping secrets."

"Let’s say it’s not really a secret"

Fang Duobing was about to push the issue when his mother called him across the hall.

"Fang Xiaobao, I have another idea, take off your clothes!"

Li Lianhua next to him burst out laughing.

"Mother!" the boy exclaimed, turning red on his face.

"Oh come on, put all your hard work into martial arts in to use!"

"MOTHER"

[hvartofglass]

Dear BAE YUNHEE,

You are cordially invited to a private gathering this Sunday, the 21st of July. It is a dinner among old friends, and it will be just like old times. The dinner will be held at Shin Junpyo’s mansion on Jeju Island. Dinner will be served strictly at 7.30pm. Your attendance is expected by 6pm.

Don’t be late.

P.S. Do yourself a favor and burn this letter once you have read and understood the terms. We don’t want to piss the alums off, now do we?

Best regards,

YOUR QUEEN, 2019

𝗔𝗟𝗟  𝗦𝗛𝗘  𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗  𝗪𝗔𝗦  𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗬  𝗔  𝗤𝗨𝗜𝗘𝗧  𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧  𝗧𝗢  𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗫  𝗔𝗡𝗗  𝗨𝗡𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗗,  was  that  even  too  much  of  her  to  ask  for?  yunhee  clicks  her  tongue  in  annoyance  as  she  now  leans  against  the  the  side  of  the  porcelain-hewn  bathtub,  her  arms  folded  against  the  surface  whilst  her  wet  fingertips  gently  traced  the  invitation  paper  with  a  vague  sense  of  disdain.  her  master  suite  bathroom  was  entirely  shrouded  by  the  quietude  and  the  air  fragrant  with  the  scent  of  roses  and  oat  milk,  but  even  the  perfumed  distractions  couldn't  stop  her  own  mind  from  wandering  back  to  anguishing  memories  that  never  should  have  been  reawakened  in  the  first  place.

as  she  placed  the  ivory  note  back  onto  the  wooden  tray,  yunhee  lay  back  and  rest  her  head  against  a  folded  towel,  trying  to  go  back  to  luxuriating  herself  in  the  relaxing  bath  she  was  having.  she  could  almost  sink  into  the  tranquil  silence  underneath  the  bathwater,  washing  all  the  worries  and  thoughts  she'd  been  having.  but  yunhee  knew  too  well  it  wouldn't  do  her  any  good  for  her  trying  to  ignore  both  the  situation  and  the  invitation  at  hand.  warm  water  splashes  in  lively  ebbs  and  flows  around  her  as  she  reluctantly  got  up  from  the  tub, reaching  for  a  cotton  bathrobe  and  wrapped  it  around  her  petite  physique.

a  curious  bounce  embellished  her  quiet  footsteps  as  she  took  the  ivory  letter  from  the  bathtub  tray  before  she  meandered  across  the  bathroom  into  her  bedroom.  with  puerile  curiosity,  does  yunhee  finally  read  the  letter  and  memorized  its  every  words,  letting  them  embedded  into  her  mind.  to  think  this  is  how  min  jihye  decides  to  come  back  into  her  life  again,  by  sending  her  a  measly  invitation  to  a  dinner  party  with  the  rest  of  the  king's  club  members  after  the  two  former  best  friends  have  already  went  years  with  barely  any  form  of  communication  between  them.  yunhee  simply  scoffed  in  indignation  at  the  audacity.  as  if  it  wasn't  enough  that  it  had   been  an  agonizingly  arduous  process,  to  collect  all  the  jagged  pieces  of  her  fragmented  heart  in  order  to  start  anew  after  what  had  transpired,  to  try  and  be  whole  again  ⸻  yet  here,  once  more,  she's  being  dragged  into  a  gathering  with  the  very  group  of  people  who  all  contributed  to  her  misery. 

arrayed  in  nothing  but  her  bathrobe,  yunhee  made  her  way  downstairs  into  the  living  room  of  her  penthouse  where  it  was  dimly  lit,  casted  by  the  flickering  flames  of  the  fireplace.  she  stood  in  front  of  the  heart,  reading  the  invitation  and  it's  details  for  one  final  time  before  yunhee  crouches  downwards  in  one  deft  movement.  eventually,  she  let  the  paper  slipped  from  her  hands,  and  watches  as  it  fluttered  for  one  moment  before  it  eventually  got  caught  in  the  updraft  of  the  heat.  the  soft,  rhythmic  sound  of  logs  settling  and  the  gentle  murmur  of  the  flames  as  the  ivory  note  was  slowly  devoured  by  the  flickering  fire  does  nothing  to  soothe  the  dread  that  slowly  filled  her  whole  chest.

 HEADCANNONS & TIMELINE : THE DINNER PARTY OF JULY 21, 2024

as one can imagine, yunhee wasn't exactly the happiest when she received the invitation, especially when its was supposedly min jihye, her estranged and former best friend of all people who invited her. she can't even have the pleasure of rejecting the invitation as it is a king's club's gathering and unfortunately for her, because she's a member — her attendance was mandatory.

05.45PM — yunhee decided to come to mansion earlier than its expected time because while she may hate the king's club gatherings with every fiber of her existence, she isn't really one to be late and wasn't about to break her own streak of being punctual at events because of her own petty resentment.

06.00PM — she noticed the all too familiar uniforms and settings around the mansion earlier on. it unnerved her, as expected — as just the sight of how everything in her surroundings bears an extremely close and uncomfortable resemblance to that of midas resort where it only brought up awful memories of that fateful night.

for the next hour and so, yunhee decided to wait around pergola and the library before eventually making her way to the veranda. all whilst trying to avoid most of the king's club's members because she really wasn't in a mood to talk nor handle any of them.

07.15PM — when she arrived on the veranda, yunhee noticed too quickly that tian and sunyoung were having an extremely heated argument, catching only bits of the conversations until tian suddenly fell into the pool. she would have laugh at the sight of tian being absolutely drenched and the situation at hand, if only she didn't noticed a strange floating device in the pool nearby. when she finally realized how the floating toy looked eerily like a body and who exactly did it resemble to, her blood immediately run cold. faltering at the sight, yunhee managed fall back onto the floor before screaming in terror.

THE AFTERMATH : yunhee was absolutely inconsolable after witnessing the cruel joke. whoever organized this dinner made a mockery out of him, made a mockery out of her again. and she's once again reminded by the fact how the king's club have always loved turning her into some kind of a tragic joke once more. she refused to let anyone other than intae and aera to come near her, and refused anyone else's attempt at trying to comfort her after that whole spectacle.

07.30PM — by the time dinner was served, yunhee was practically catatonic. she was barely responsive to anyone during the dinner, having only picked at her meal while the rest of the gathering ate their shares in uncomfortable silence. but members of 2019 knew too well that only meant that yunhee was a ticking bomb, having already experienced the many times of the calm before the storm before yunhee's own outbursts and that it was only a matter of time before the bomb denotes and she explodes, burning everyone and the mansion along with her. ( and with that said, this is an invitation for anyone who wants drama and a fight! let yunhee fight your muse! let her fight! )

[gloves94]

1891 [Sebastian Sallow] 1

Sebastian Sallow stands accused of the murder of his uncle. With no family or friends, Georgeanna "George" Thomas, is the only one that has not given up on him. George is determined to prove Sebastian is innocent. But what happens when Sebastian's trial turns him into a national sensation? Will George be able to prove Sebastian's innocence and save him from life in Azkaban?

The Daily Prophet

Thursday, June 4, 1891

Hogwarts Student Murderer?

Hogwarts Student at Trial for Murder of Former Auror

By: Oleander Prince

A Hogwarts 5th-year student by the name of Sebastian Sallow stands accused of murdering his only uncle, retired Auror Salomon Sallow. The accuser and main witness that has come forward to report this heinous crime is none other than his twin sister, Anne Sallow.

Ms. Sallow stated in an official report that Sebastian Sallow in fact used the unforgivable killing curse on their uncle. In the statement, Ms. Sallow wrote the intention behind Sebastian Sallow's malevolent actions root from the "obsessive pursuit of the Dark Arts." The accused, Sebastian Sallow, is currently being retained at the Ministry of Magic's withholding cells. Sallow is to be tried on Thursday, June 25 of this year.

You can read a touching memoir about the life of Salomon Sallow and his service to our world as a seasoned Auror, including a few words from our Minister of Magic, Faris Spavin, in the Obituary section.

"Absolutely preposterous!" I folded up the newspaper and slammed it on the counter. Ominis Gaunt's eyes were frozen on my face with a blank stare. I wish Ominis could read this trash himself. I wish he could see the stupid photograph they had chosen for Sebastian.

I saw him take in a deep breath. He brought a porcelain cup of tea to his lips and exhaled after drinking the hot substance. "I did what I could to keep Anne quiet," he said quietly without a hint of remorse.

'Really?' I wanted to say. 'Did you even try?' I wanted to scream at him.

"He might go to Azkaban! How can you be so apathetic? Did you not hear me? Ominis, he's your best friend!"

The thought of Sebastian sitting isolated in a cold, wet cell while Ominis and I sat comfortably in the warmth of his family's lavish parlor room haunted me.

"Was," he corrected coldly. "Was my best friend. Frankly, I have no interest in ever seeing Sebastian Sallow again in my lifetime."

I looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. A house elf nudged at my side and raised a dish with a freshly baked croissant. I waved my hand dismissively at the elf. I was too riled up to think about eating or anything else really.

"Ominis…" I gave him a pleading look. Maybe he couldn't see it due to his blindness but maybe he could hear the pleading in my voice.

"This is your fault, George." He said sharply. "You encouraged this. You enabled him to pursue the Dark Arts. And all for what? You see what you've caused!"

"What I've caused?" I repeated. I could not believe what he was saying. His words wounded me. Again, the house elf pushed the tray to my face. Without thinking- I slapped the plate out of my face making the elf flinch. The loud crashing sound of fine porcelain shattering made Ominis head turn in its direction. "So you're saying this is my fault?" I rose to my feet.

"Unbelievable…" I chuckled while gathering my belongings.

"Everything Sebastian did.. Everything was for Anne! The only thing he wants more badly than anything in the world is to cure his sister and this is the treatment he gets?" I licked my lips shaking my head. "You know what Ominis? He would've done the same and more for you. He loves you. He sees you as his brother. He trusted you!" My voice cracked at the end.

It was silent between us. Ominis's expression was unreadable. The only sound in the large room was the poor house elf cleaning up the pasty on the floor and the pieces of broken porcelain. Poor thing, I immediately regretted taking out my anger on him. I raised my wand and cast a silent reparo to help him. The elf looked at me with large fearful eyes, I lowered my head apologetically before turning to Ominis.

"Goodbye Ominis," I said, void of any emotion as I strolled out of the parlor room, down the hallway, and ducked past the large wooden door dodging one of his older brothers. His brother glared at me as I skulked past.

I could hear Ominis calling my name as I left. I hoped never to have to speak to Ominis Gaunt again.

xxx

I apparated in London. Smog covered the sad gray skies, and countless carriages, and men on horses were dragged by the crowded city. The Elizabeth Tower stood a stark contrast to the layout of the grand city.

It smelled like sewage. A muggle bumped into me. "Oi! Watch it!" He sneered.

I shot him an ugly look, he had no idea who he was talking to. I explored the city, trying to smooth my anger. I could not believe that nerve Ominis had, let alone Anne, turning in her brother like that - after everything he'd done for her! Unbelievable!

Sometime later, I entered the Ministry of Magic for the first time. It was a subterranean hallway with emerald green brick and dim lights. It almost reminded me of the Slytherin Common Room. Dozens of witches and wizards passed by dictating notes to enchanted pens or looking at their pocket watches. It was just as busy here as it was in the muggle world.

I found it intimidating being in the Ministry of Magic. This was the pinnacle of government and rules that dominated the Wizarding World. Everyone around me was also extremely well-dressed. I had done my best to put together my best ropes to visit the Gaunt Manor, but it paled in comparison to Ominis robes or other wizards surrounding me.

After asking a woman sitting at an information desk for guidance, I made my way down several pairs of stairs until I reached the area were

Dodging by the passerby I made my way down the stairs to an austere corridor. There was a locked door and a miserable-looking woman sitting behind a desk that I just knew had complete authority over who or what made it past that heavy-looking door. No doubt where the holding cells would be.

"Hello Ms…" I began with as much charisma as I could muster under these circumstances. "Pinch." I read her name tag.

Ms. Pinch looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes, a bored expression on her tired face.

"I'm here to visit a- prisoner?" Sebastian wasn't a prisoner but I couldn't think of the appropriate word. She didn't bother correcting me.

"Only family or next of kin are allowed to visit the withholding cells strictly during visiting hours."

I opened my mouth but she didn't stop speaking.

"If you're here to pay bail you must have a money order from Gringotts of the exact amount that was posted. The order must be made in the legal name of the trial or convicted offender. No pet names, it must be the birth name and surname. No exceptions.." She raised two fingers in between which she held a sickly long cigarette.

"I'm here to visit- my brother." I lied. "Sallow, Sebastian Sallow."

Pinch raised an irritated eyebrow. "Surely you brought identification Ms. Sallow?"

xxx

After an unsuccessful performance that did not convince Ms. Pinch I was Anne Sallow, I was now standing outside of the door from the holding cell. My hand sank into my pocket, I held my wand tightly as I debated if I should use the imperio curse on Ms. Pinch. Just how far was I willing to go Sebastian? But using an unforgivable curse inside the Ministry of Magic… No, I couldn't, it was too risky.

I thought of Sebastian… He was completely alone. Isolated from the world. No family or friends to support him. All of this could've been avoided… All of this was in self-defense. I was there. I had seen him defend us from his uncle's wrath! If Sebastian hadn't done anything neither of us would've made it out of that cave.

"Muggle-Fucking-Troll-Shit.." I cursed angrily and hit the wall with my closed fist.

"Woah, language! Language!" A familiar voice interrupted with a scolding tone. I turned to see someone holding a tower of leather binders with airplane-folded papers hovering over. The binders and documents hid the tall person's face.

"Wait- Georgeanna, is that you?" Garreth Weasley poked from behind the tower of binders.

Garreth's red hair, freckled face, and mischievous smile were unmistakable as he poked his cheeky face from behind the tower of documents.

"Garreth? What are you doing here?" I asked completely taken aback by his presence. "I should be asking you the same question."

I shot him a hostile look. Had Ominis sent him to stop me? Was he reporting on Sebastian's detainment? I thought suspiciously.

"I work here," He explained. "Figured it was a good way to make some extra galleons over the summer holiday. Let's me afford more rare ingredients for my potions."

Merlin. I feared whatever it was that Garreth was experimenting with nowadays. The Gryffindor should not be allowed near any type of cauldron. "Aunt got me the job." He finished explaining with the smile he often wore.

I realized he was looking at me expecting my answer. After all, this was how conversations worked.

"I'm here to see Sebastian. Or at least try to." I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I see." Was all he said. Garreth tried to keep his tone neutral but I could see his distaste as the edge of his mouth turned down with distaste.

Garreth eyed the door behind me. "Real charmer ain't she? Ms. Pinch." He huffed sarcastically. "I've seen a boggart show more emotion. That is what working for the Ministry for 30 years does to a person." He joked. I couldn't help but laugh lightly.

"Even the hero of Hogwarts couldn't make it past Pinch." He clicked his tongue. "Tell you something," Garreth began. I could immediately see his eyes narrow making him resemble a fox. No doubt he was hatching a sly plan in his twisted imagination. "I'll do my best to help you get past Pinch."

My face lit up.

"However-" Garreth raised a finger still struggling to balance the tower of binders. "You owe me one."

I couldn't thank Garreth enough. "Follow my lead. You have your wand?"

I used evanesco and slowly followed after Garreth as he entered past the door to the holding cells. "Good Morning Ms. Pinch!" He said loudly as he wobbled in. "You sure are looking fine this morning ma'am." He flirted with the older woman. Ms. Pinche didn't spare a smile, she shot Weasley a glare. How could she not even smile back at Garreth? I wondered.

"It's you again." She crooned bitterly. "The errand boy." She said in disgust, sounding almost as if she had a personal vendetta against the Weasley. She waved her wand and the heavy door next to her desk opened wide. Slowly, still under the charm of the evanesco spell, trusting I was invisible I followed behind Garreth.

"Not for long. One day I'll be the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

"I highly doubt that," Pinch said in her raspy voice after taking a drag from her cigarette.

I highly doubted that too. If anything Garreth was the one causing the magical accidents and catastrophes.

Garreth let out a laugh. As he turned to face Ms. Pinch, he stumbled on the back of his shoe falling face forward dumping the tower of leather binders, folders, and paper on top of Pinch and all around her desk. "Oh, Merlin. I am so sorry!" Garreth said insincerely, he turned back to look at my silhouette and pointed his head toward the end of the corridor. With his cue, I scurried away barely dodging a security guard.

I scurried past the corridor looking into the bars of the cells on the floor but Sebastian wasn't in any of them. All of the holding cells were pretty much the same. A small table with a water pitcher, a bowl, a rusty chamber pot, and a torn mattress on the floor. Descending down yet another pair of stairs I continued looking for my friend until I reached the end of the cells.

There he was. The last cell on the left.

Sebastian Sallow was sitting on the cement floor as I had never seen him before. His arms were propped on his knees. His expression was crestfallen and his eyes bored into the floor. His hair was unkempt, clothes were torn and dirty no doubt from the struggle to get him in here. He was miserable. I could see dampness and mold seeping from the ceiling, the old cell bars were rusty and there were no windows.

"Sebastian," I said quietly from a crouching position. He didn't react. "Sebastian!" I said his name a little louder. He turned his head in my direction and I revealed myself to him with a disenchantment.

It took him a moment to realize I was standing outside of his cell. That I was real. That I was here in the flesh. That I was here for him.

"George!" He exclaimed. He moved faster than I'd ever seen him before crawling toward me. "George! By Merlin, I'm so happy to see you!" His smile was so wide. Despite his momentary joy, I could still note the dark circles underneath his eyes... I couldn't help but wonder when had been the last time he slept or smiled. What were they feeding him in this place?

"Sebastian…" My hands tightened around the bars. My knees gave and I collapsed into a sitting position. It had been such a long time since I felt this powerless.

Why was the only thing I could manage to say his name? "Oh, Sebastian." Tears started to stream down my face. "I can't believe you're in here." I cried trying to wipe the rivers off my face with the back of my sleeve. "It-It isn't fair!"

"Hey," He knelt in front of me. Despite his circumstances, his voice was calm, he sounded collected. "Hey, don't cry." He whispered in a comforting tone. "Don't cry," He repeated with so much care. Why was he the one comforting me? He had already been through enough and now he felt responsible for my emotions. His hands reached for my face and he held it for a moment. I could feel his thumb caressed my cheek and wipe away a stray tear.

I looked at him and suddenly felt embarrassed at our closeness at my behavior. My heart began thumping in my chest.

Sebastian's honey colored eyes were still kind. He was still my right-hand man. My best friend. His uncle's death had changed everything but not him. He held my face for a moment. "I knew you would come." I could hear the sincerity in his soft words.

He let go of my face and placed a hand on my arm, another over my hand that was tightly gripping the bar. His hand felt warm over mine. I couldn't help but turn and hold it tightly in mine.

"You were in the Daily Prophet this morning. They've made you off to be a Dark Wizard, your uncle a saint." I spat bitterly. "And Anne-" I choked on my words. "After everything you've done for her." I shook my head. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from cursing Anne Sallow's name.

"Figures," Sebastian said calmly. "Nothing new there, the Daily Prophet glamorizing a story to turn a profit. Did they at least use a good photo of me?"

I wanted to punch him. This was no time for jokes.

"Sebastian. I'm going to get you out of here." I looked at him intensely. I squeezed his hand. "My family is not rich but I'll find a way. I'm going to get you out of here no matter what. Prove your innocence."

"What about Ominis?" Sebastian asked and my heart sank. How could I even begin to explain to him that Ominis wanted nothing to do with him in the absolute. I think he could tell by the desolate look on my face.

"Who's there?" A deep voice interrupted. It was time to go. I jumped to my feet. Sebastian still held my hand tightly in his. His body pressed against the bars pulling me close. The only space between us being the dividing cold metal.

"George. Promise me." He whispered. "Promise me that you'll write."

I don't think I had ever been so close to Sebastian Sallow. I looked into his brown eyes breathlessly. It pained me to see him like this. To see him behind bars, trapped like a rat, and being treated worse than the scum of the street.

"I promise you, Sebastian." I swore to him with every fiber of my being. "One way or another, I'm getting you out of here."

xxx

Chapter 2: Coming soon...

[multitudecontainer420]

empty bathroom + living room trashes put new bag in former, wash pots n pans, clean stovetop n microwave n bottom shelf of fridge, sweep n wet Swiffer kitchen & bathroom floor, make bed, fold blankets, strategically stash gummies

wash off doormat, clean shoes, boot tray, mat in front of sink, clear storage bags, replace filters, find chirp, paint furniture, hang art, storage bins 4 bathroom shelves, wash bathtub pillow, no slip mat?

[the-letter-horror-lover]

The Matchmakers

Chapterdaze

Summary:

Lady (Y/N) Feridge finds herself torn as her late father's will includes a letter to the earl Phantomhive, stating that the latter can choose who the lady should marry, and then benefit from the outcome. In their quest for a suitable suitor, (Y/N) meets the charming Earl Grey, from a rivaling tea company to that of her own. Though her heart is immediately sold to the white-haired, seemingly uninterested male, Ciel Phantomhive disagrees, not approving of (Y/N)'s choice. With the help of his servants and his fiancée (Elizabeth Midford), (Y/N) devices a plan to make the Earl see reason. Will she win over both Ciel Phantomhive, and more importantly, Charles Grey?

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

The rainy night had made room for a rose-coloured morning sun. The crisp smell of wet grass wafted through the door opening as a tall, handsome man clad in black stepped onto the porch. He did not care for the fresh dawn. He did not linger to feel the cool spring breeze, or hear the chirps from waking birds. He was the butler, Sebastian Michaelis, and the only thing he cared about was getting the newspaper for his master. Though he had no intent of letting the season get to him, he couldn't help but scan the trees surrounding the Phantomhive Estate with his crimson eyes. He had the nagging sensation that something was coming. He sighed. Today was going to be an eventful day.

The morning routine contained the usual chaos. The housemaid Mey-Rin had dropped the dishes. Cook Baldroy had burnt the jus d'orange for the young master's breakfast (Sebastian was still not sure how) and they had found Finnian somewhere on the floor, sobbing because he found a dead bumblebee in the garden. By the time the earl had to be woken up, Sebastian had already cleaned away the broken plates, remade breakfast and held a funeral for the insect (Finny insisted they'd get Undertaker for the job, but Sebastian refused). When he remarked that they really should better their efforts before the afternoon guest would arrive, Bardroy asked: Sebastian, who exactly is this Lady (Y/N) that’s coming to visit us today?”

“According to the young master, Lady (Y/N)’s father was a marketing manager associated with the former Earl. He took his family with him when he went to do marketing research abroad years ago.”

“Pardon me but did I hear you saying he was a marketing manager?”

The butler sighed in annoyance over Bardroy keeping him from his work. “Yes, Lord Feridge died recently, that’s why Lady (Y/N) returned. She wants to discuss some business matters with the young master. Now if you would excuse me, I need to tend to said master,” and with that, Sebastian left.

He was glad to be away from the chaotic trio, when Snake came around the corner, nearly knocking over his food tray.

"Good morning Snake. Although it would have been less good for the both of us had you knocked down the tray."

"Beg your pardon, Black sir, says Goethe," Snake replied.

"Then, do you perhaps mind telling me where you were during the morning briefing?"

"I'm very sorry, but Emily and Wordsworth are nowhere to be found! Says Webster."

Snake was now lifting the hallway rug in his search.

Honestly, were he and Tanaka the only ones capable around the manor? Sebastian sighed.

"Well, continue your search and report to me after you've found them. I really must go and wake the young master now."

And with that, Sebastian continued on his way.

The sun had climbed significantly higher since Sebastian picked up the newspaper. The rays now peeked through the curtains in earl Ciel Phantomhive's bedroom, colouring everything orange. The earl did not seem to mind, as he was still sound asleep. Only a few strands of navy hair were visible on the fluffy pillows.

Sebastian swung open the bedroom door, and entered. Setting the tray aside, he opened the curtains. The heap of sheets on the bed stirred.

"Good morning young master. Have you slept well? This morning, I have prepared a traditional oolong tea."

Sebastian did not wait for his master to answer and poured the tea. The earl seemed to be used by it, as he groaned and stretched.

"What's for breakfast?"

"We have prepared scones and muffins."

"I prefer the scones." Ciel accepted his teacup from Sebastian.

"Certainly, my lord. This morning, your classes consist of economy studies and music lessons. This afternoon you have a meeting with the lady Feridge. After that, there is some paperwork to be done.”

Ciel took the last sip of his tea. "Better get to it, then."

Sebastian bowed, and walked towards the wardrobe.

Breakfast flew by quietly. Sebastian had not forgiven the servants for their mishaps that morning, and had put them all on tasks somewhere at the outermost corners of the mansion. That way, he was certain the young master could enjoy his morning in peace. Even the classes flew by swiftly, though Ciel did voice his dislike for the ‘dreadful lessons’. Soon, it was afternoon. Ciel was waiting in his office when he heard Finnian shout that a carriage was pulling up the driveway. He straightened himself, and headed downstairs.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

“It’s been a long time…”

(Y/N) looked at the tall mansion in awe. After all this time abroad, hearing barely anything but bad news about the estate, she finally made it back, and the building looked no older than it did the day she left. All that misery the letters talked about seemed to be nothing more than gossip, she could guess that much by glancing out of the window of her carriage, which stopped in front of the entrance. A man dressed in a black tailcoat opened the door.

“Welcome to the Phantomhive manor, Lady (Y/N),” the man smiled and offered her his hand.

“Let me introduce myself,” the man continued once he helped her out of the carriage. “My name is Sebastian Michaelis. I am the butler of this estate. Now, if you would follow me inside, I will escort you to my master. He is awaiting your arrival in the lobby.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Thank you very much. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Sebastian escorted (Y/N) inside. There, Ciel was standing next to the central stairs.

“Ah, Lady (Y/N), welcome to my estate. I am Ciel Phantomhive, the current earl. It’s very delightful to finally meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, my lord.”

“Please, have a seat. Sebastian, prepare us some tea. We will be in my study”

“As you wish,” Sebastian replied. With swift steps, he left. Ciel turned to (Y/N) again. "Well then, shall we?"

“I’m sorry to hear about Lord Feridge’s passing. My condolences,” the earl started.

“Likewise, my lord. We tried to get back to England as soon as we heard what happened to the mansion, but I was unfit to travel due to some health issues, so my family decided to stay.”

“To be honest with you, I didn’t know there was still someone associated with the former earl active in your lineage of work.”

“Well, it was more friendly errands my father would run for the late earl than work anyways. You may not know because you were far too young, but our fathers were somewhat close when it came to business.”

“Excuse me, but if they really were, I think I would have known,” the earl responded, looking a bit upset.

“I’m sorry my lord, but I can’t think of another reason why my father would mention Vincent Phantomhive in his will, let alone having the late earl sign it,” (Y/N) shoved an envelope towards Ciel, who looked at it dumbstruck. Nevertheless, he opened it and started to read out loud.

“…. As for my daughter (Y/N) Feridge, I hope my dear friend and co-operator Lord Vincent Phantomhive will take care of her until she marries. As payment, Lord Phantomhive has the right to decide together with my daughter whom she will marry. Furthermore, he is free to profit from the outcome of the marriage. Was signed, Earl George Feridge and Earl Vincent Phantomhive.”

A silence befalls the two of them. They get startled by a knock on the door.

“In,” Ciel said, trying to regain his composure. Sebastian entered, pushing a cart containing afternoon tea. While Sebastian busied himself with the porcelain cups, the tension between Lord Phantomhive and Lady Feridge was noticeable.

“Is there something wrong my lord?”

“Prepare a room for Lady (Y/N). She’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Sebastian left again. Ciel got up and started pacing back and forth.

“… You don’t have to let me stay. It was your father’s promise, not yours.”

“I shall do exactly what my predecessor intended to do, though I don’t see how any of this was ever going to be beneficial for him. Probably a plea from his so-called friend… Do you have a fiancé?”

“No, but-”

“At least I get to decide alongside with you then…” Ciel sat back down, and took a sip of tea.

“I’m sorry. I know it must be a lot to handle for you as well, but I’ll promise not to be a nuisance,” (Y/N) looked at the desk apologetically.

“Never mind. Maybe we’ve started off on the wrong foot. Welcome to your new, temporary home.”

“Thank you, I guess…”

“It will take some getting used to, but I’ll make sure my servants will treat you with the utmost hospitality so you will feel at ease as soon as possible,” Ciel got up from his seat once more.

“I will have Sebastian show you around the manor. Afterwards, you can rest in your room until dinnertime.”

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter Text

“Lady (Y/N), it’s time to wake up, yes it is.”

A blinding light filled the room as the maid of the household, Mey-Rin, opened the curtains. Ever since (Y/N) came to live in the Phantomhive mansion two months ago, this has been a part of her everyday routine. Mey-Rin helps her get ready for the day, she has breakfast with the earl, tries to work on marketing and developing, then afternoon tea is served and finally, she has dinner together with the earl again before retiring for the day. The only interceptions thus far have been games of chess with the earl (which she never seemed to win) and the search for a fiancé.

As (Y/N) walked down the corridor towards the dining room, she heard someone squeak.

“You’re so cute Ciel, I can’t wait ‘till you’ve seen the outfit I picked for tonight! I want ours to match!”

(Y/N) rounded the corner to find the source of the noise. A blonde girl wearing a frilly orange dress was hugging Lord Phantomhive very tight, spinning him around in her dance of joy. Sebastian looked at the scene from behind the girl, clearly debating whether he should stop her or let her continue.

The blonde girl let go of Ciel upon noticing (Y/N). “Oh hello, who is this adorable lady?”

“This is Lady (Y/N). She was an acquaintance of the former Earl Phantomhive. Moreover, she now lives here as a dying wish of her late father.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that!” The girl exclaimed in shock.

“(Y/N), this is my fiancé, Lady Elizabeth Midford.”

“Oh please, call me Lizzy. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” (Y/N) made a small bow.

“Please, allow me to escort you to the dining room. You’ll be able to talk further there,” Sebastian suggested.

“Is (Y/N) attending the ball tonight too, Ciel?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes? Am I not allowed to decide for myself? I wasn’t even aware there was a ball.”

Before Ciel could make a remark, Elizabeth interrupted.

“Of course there is a ball you silly! It’s the queen’s birthday after all!”

Ciel cleared his throat. “I thought it would be an opportunity for you to search for a suitable candidate.”

“Oh. I see…” (Y/N) jabbed her fork into a piece of scrambled egg.

“I assume you are familiar with the formalities of a ball?” Ciel grabbed his napkin, having finished his breakfast already. “Otherwise, I’m sure Elizabeth is more than happy to help you.”

“Of course! We also have to decide which dress you’ll wear! You need to look good if you’re still searching for a fiancé,” she continued to talk, while (Y/N) stared annoyed towards Ciel, who gave her a look of amusement. It seemed like he had been planning this all along.

“You haven’t been to an English ball in a long time now, haven’t you (Y/N)?”

“That’s right. I’ve spent a lot of time travelling around the world for my father’s company. Most of the time we would be somewhere in Asia.”

“Oh you’re such a lucky girl to be seeing so much of the world. What was Asia like?”

“It was-”

(Y?/N) was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Milady, I have your dress right here, yes I do,” Mey-Rin walked in the room, holding a beautiful evening gown.

“I bet it will look absolutely adorable on you!” Lizzy exclaimed, grabbing the dress from Mey-Rin, and dancing with it around the room.

“Lady Elizabeth be careful!” Mey-Rin clumsily dances along, trying to retrieve the dress.

“Oh how romantic, getting to meet your fiancé at such a grand ball…” Lizzy swoons.

“Hold on miss, there’s no telling for certain that I’ll actually meet someone…” (Y/N) scuffs the floor. Finding a fiancé that Ciel approved of was hard. It seemed like the earl would turn down every man presenting themselves until he’d find one he could actually benefit from.

“Don’t be silly. We’re going to make you irresistible!” Lizzy continued. “Now then! Time to get to work!”

Lizzy’s grip was so tight that (Y/N) couldn’t possibly protest. Before she knew it, she was donning a stunning gala dress.

“(Y/N) you look so beautiful!” Lizzy jumped up and down, while Mey-Rin awed at (Y/N) with a blush. (Y/N) looked at herself in the mirror. ‘You know what?’ She thought. ‘This might actually work.’

From her seat, (Y/N) could see the long line of carriages waiting to pull up to the grand doors of Buckingham Palace. “Looks like we’re not the only guests this evening.”

“Of course not,” Lizzy laughed. With her frilly dress, she made the space inside the carriage pretty occupied, bubt (Y/N) didn’t mind. Lizzy had insisted that she and Ciel would be sitting next to each other, so (Y/N) had her own side of the coach.

“I heard that Her Majesty invited Johan Strauss II to play this evening. This is bound to be an interesting night,” Sebastian’s voice cut in from the open carriage window.

“Then we can dance together, Ciel!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on. It’s not common for Her Majesty to hold a grand ball like this. Not since prince Albert died.”

“Something tells me it wasn’t her decision to throw one anyway,” Ciel breathed, so Lizzy couldn’t hear. But (Y/N) did.

“Who do you think proposed the idea then?”

“I don’t know. My best guess is John Brown, but perhaps it could have been one of the Double Charles.”

“Double Charles?”

“The private secretaries and butlers for Her Majesty. Their actual names are sir Charles Phipps and earl Charles Grey. They cause more problems than solving them, if you ask me.”

“I like them. I had fencing lessons with them when I was younger,” Lizzy explained.

“Charles Grey… As in the Earl Grey tea?”

“An invention from his father. Now that he passed away, Charles has all the benefits.”

“I know. His father worked together with mine.”

“That’s right. You have a tea company as well, don’t you (Y/N)?” Lizzy asked.

“Yes, though the Grey family focuses on black tea, and my company is more interested in Oolong teas and herbal teas.”

Lizzy was about to ask another question, when Sebastian opened the carriage door.

“We have arrived.”

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Text

(Y/N) took Sebastian’s hand and stepped out on the porch. Before her was the breathtaking sight of Buckingham Palace. A nudge from Lizzy brought her back.

“Don’t forget your objective for tonight,” she winked. They walked up the front stairs together. Of course a ball hosted by the queen came with certain formalities. There were guards at every section of the palace, and guests had to identify and show their invitations to get inside.

Once the hustle was over, a host accompanied them to the ballroom. There, they caught a glimpse of queen Victoria herself, on a throne in the center of the furthest wall. She was dressed in all black, and wore a veil. Divided over both her sides were three men dressed in white. One of the men caught (Y/N)’s interest.

“That’s Charles Grey,” Lizzy whispered. (Y/N) nodded. Suddenly, earl Grey turned his head, and his gaze met (Y/N)’s. She quickly looked away.

“Did he notice you?” Lizzy giggled.

“Sssh ladies. They’re going to make an announcement,” Sebastian hushed.

One of the three men stepped forward. Despite it becoming dusk outside, he was still wearing sunglasses. The crowd became silent.

“On behalf of her majesty, I would like to wholeheartedly welcome all of you to Buckingham Palace to celebrate her birthday. Her special gratitude goes out to sir Johan Strauss II, who was so endearing to play for us tonight. Any minute now he and his orchestra will start to play, and the queen invites everyone to merrily engage in dancing. But before that, we will sing God Save The Queen in her honour.”

The orchestra played a tune, and soon enough the ballroom was filled with voices. (Y/N) sang along. Even though it has been a long time ago since she last paid homage to England’s ruler, she never forgot the lyrics. The man with the sunglasses bowed upon the ending of the song.

“Thank you.”

He then stepped back. The queen leaned over to him, and whispered something.

“One more thing. Her majesty would like you all to know that the wine that was picked out for this evening is solely wine from the year 1819, the year in which our late prince Albert died.”

“All hail prince Albert, may he rest in peace.” Was the answer of the guests. The orchestra started playing again, and (Y/N) followed Lizzy and Ciel towards a table.

“Please excuse me, I shall fetch all of you something to drink,” Sebastian bowed out.

“How typically beautiful of her majesty. Even the wine is modelled around her beloved prince Albert,” a voice behind (Y/N) spoke.

“Viscount Druitt?!” Ciel jumped from his chair.

“Ah yes lord Phantomhive! I have an urgent matter to discuss with you! I heard you were in the possession of an extraordinary young woman in search for a man! So I, Viscount Druitt, would like to present myself!”

“Not a chance,” Ciel spat.

“Now now lord Phantomhive, don’t be so rash with conclusions, let me first introduce myself to the young lady.” The Viscount’s eye then fell on (Y/N).

“And this must be her! My delicate robin, I am so happy to meet you.” The Viscount bowed gracefully.

“I wished I could say the pleasure is all mine, but I do have to press that I am, in fact, nobody’s possession.” (Y/N) crossed her arms.

“Why of course not, milady! Don’t worry, I shall court you-”

“There will be none courting this evening, thank you,” Sebastian interrupted the Viscount.

“Now if you would please move out of the way so I can serve my master.”

The Viscount gazes with an estimated look at Sebastian, figured that he wouldn’t make it out unscratched if he would cross him, and walked away grumbling.

“What in the blazes was that all about?” (Y/N) shivered. That creepy man gave her the goosebumps.

“With the odd Viscount, you can never tell,” Ciel sighed.

“Thank you Sebastian,” Lizzy said after Sebastian put down their drinks.

Ciel, at the other hand, seemed as brooding and glum as the queen.

“I’m done with this already.”

“Cheer up Ciel, it’s a celebration after all. How about we participate in the next dance?”

“For the last time Lizzy, I’m too tired to dance.”

“Maybe you won’t touch the dancefloor tonight, my lord, but there seems to be someone heading over for lady Feridge.”

(Y/N) followed Sebastian’s gesture. From across the room, Carles Grey was walking towards their table, his eyes fixated on her.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter Text

“You are not going to dance with him.”

“Incorrect. as opposed to my fiancé, my dance partner is something you have absolutely no say in,” (Y/N) smirked. Ciel scoffed.

“No matter what you think of him, he seems like a decent gentleman, and I’d be honoured for a dance.”

“What a relief, I was just about to ask.”

Charles Grey had made his way over to the table, and was now holding out his arm for (Y/N), who took it gracefully. Lizzy cheered.

“Have fun!”

Once on the dancefloor, Charles gently placed one hand on (Y/N)’s side, and placed his other had over hers. The orchestra initiated a waltz. (Y/N) let Charles take the lead, and together they swayed over the dancefloor. His grey eyes glinstered mischievously.

“If I’m not mistaken, I am having the pleasure to be dancing with lady (Y/N) Feridge, am I?”

“Correct. And the pleasure is all mine. I haven’t seen you in a long time, lord Charles Grey.”

“I believe your family moved all over the world, not?”

“Correct again. Though my father passed away while we were staying in India.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. He was a good colleague of my own late father.”

“A good colleague would be an understatement. Had my father not convinced the late earl Grey last minute to come with him to China, we wouldn’t have any Earl Grey tea at all.”

Charles smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t tend to underestimate things.”

They twirled. While spinning, (Y/N) caught a glimpse of the other white-haired male next to the Queen.

“So you and the other Charles are working as her majesty’s butlers now?”

“Butlers and private secretaries. I take modest pride in my duty.”

“Excuse me, but earl Charles Grey and being modest?” This time, it was (Y/N) who smiled.

“I have grown out of my attitude since childhood, I can assure you,” Charles answered earnesty.

“I was merely teasing,” (Y/N) admitted.

“Speaking about teasing, what did Viscount Druitt want from you? He seemed very upset when he left the table.”

“He tried to court me, since I’m still looking for a fiancé.”

“Oh is that so…” Was all Charles said. The waltz ended. Charles let go of (Y/N) though she was wearing multiple layers of clothing, she could feel a warm spot where his hand had been resting. Her hands were warm too. Charles bowed.

“I must return to her majesty’s side. It was lovely seeing you again, lady (Y/N).”

“Likewise, earl Grey.”

Had they been spinning that much that everything around her blurred as Charles walked away?

Another waltz came on, and (Y/N) hurried to the sideline, back to the table.

“And?” Lizzy immediately began. (Y/N) felt a blush creep onto her cheeks.

“It was pleasant,” she quickly said.

“Good, let’s keep it at that.” Ciel was leaning with his head on his hand, staring at the dancefloor. (Y/N) felt a small twinge of dread. Ciel wasn’t fond of Charles. There was no way he’d ever allow her to marry him. Then, the twinge grew into a heavy feeling in her stomach. Maybe Charles was engaged already. Or married. No, he wouldn’t ask her to dance if he had a wife, would he? (Y/N) didn’t see a wedding ring either.

“(Y/N)? Helloooo…”

(Y/N) shook out of her thoughts when Lizzy waved a hand in front of her face.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was asking if you’d like to come along to one of my fencing classes. Maybe you could impress Charles with some basic techniques.”

“Don’t even think about it Lizzy,” Ciel warned her. “I do not approve of Charles and that’s final.”

Lizzy pouted. (Y/N) pouted internally. Her heart had sunk. There goes another potential partner. She hastily downed her glass to hide her red face.

“Easy on the wine, lady Feridge. 1819 was not a very good year.”

Sebastian’s advice came too late. (Y/N) pulled a sour face, earning laughter from Lizzy and a roll of the eye from Ciel.

Lizzy’s laughter turned into a yawn.

“I guess it’s time to go home,” Ciel concluded. He got up, and offered Lizzy an arm. Together, they walked towards the doors, with Sebastian and (Y/N) in tow. (Y/N) watched them enviously. If only her father had decided whom she should marry before he passed away…

All in all, it hadn’t been that bad an evening, (Y/N) thought as she was sitting in the carriage back to the mansion. Even though she greatly missed her family, she was glad she had returned to England. Especially when she sunk deep into her pillows, exhausted from the day, and she could fall asleep effortlessly, without having to worry where she would travel tomorrow.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Another two months passed at the Phantomhive estate. Lizzy had been swinging by occasionally, visiting her while her betrothed was on an errand for the queen at some high-classed school. She even taught (Y/N) as much about fencing as she could before the earl would return. The earl returned earlier than expected, and the lessons became rare after that. Still, Lizzy hadn’t given up on (Y/N) getting together with Charles Grey, and, (Y/N) had to admit, she herself hadn’t either. She caught herself daydreaming about that night in the ballroom multiple times, and had even seen the earl’s white hair and lashes in her dreams at night. Luckily for her, she had made good friends with another white-haired boy within the mansion, to distract herself. Snake had been thankful for (Y/N) when she found his lost snakes on day one of her stay (they weren’t that hard to find, perched atop her dresser). They had talked a lot whenever Snake caught a break. Though she always did the talking, and he was always the listener. That late afternoon, (Y/N) had been reading in the garden, when Snake passed by. Halfy fantasizing away, (Y/N) had mumbled something about dancing.

“You’re really not giving up, aren’t you? Clinging on to our prey much like us, says Oscar,” Snake had shaken her out of her thoughts.

“The hopeless romantic side I’ve inherited from my mother is sticking its tongue out at me. Is that like a snake too?”

“It enhances our sense of smell and taste, says Bronte.”

“Well, my taste in men doesn’t seem to please the earl a lot. Another two turned down today. And he still hasn’t changed his mind about Charles Grey…”

Snake sat down next to (Y/N). Normally, this would be the part where (Y/N) would go and tell Snake all about her troubles. Today, though, she didn’t feel like it.

“Say Snake, I heard you used to work as a snake charmer at a circus. Right?”

“That’s right milady, says Emily.”

“I reckon not too many people were fond of your snakes.”

“We tend to have a scary nature. Joker and the others didn’t mind. They took us in like family.”

“I’ve met someone in Holland who was interested in snakes. He said some types of venom could also be used in cures.”

“Did he really? Says Webster.” Snake now turned toward (Y/N), a surprised look in his eyes.

“Yes. He told me snakes are very helpful creatures. The use of snake venom in treatments has been long known in East-Indian tribes, but recently made its way to the modern world.”

“Maybe you should see your problem with lord Grey in the same way, says Oscar.”

“What does snake venom have to do with my fiancé problem?”

“Well, they made snake venom into something useful, right? Says Emily. Maybe you could convince Smile that he can indeed profit from your betrothal in some way, says Webster.”

(Y/N)’s face lit up. She jumped up and applauded the footman.

“Snake, you’re a genius! What a brilliant idea!”

“Do, do you mean that? Asks Oscar.” Snake blinked his eyes. Clearly no one complimented him like that before.

“Now we only need to figure out what about Charles would be useful to Ciel…”

Just as Snake was about to make another remark, Sebastian came outside.

“Lady Feridge, dinner is ready.”

“What? You’re going to Germany?”

(Y/N) almost dropped her knife.

“On the queen’s orders, my household will travel to Germany for an investigation.”

“But, how long will you be gone?”

“The duration of the investigation is uncertain, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it would last a month at least.”

(Y/N) looked at Ciel in disbelief.

“A whole month? What do you expect me to do in the meantime?”

“You will stay with Elizabeth and her family. They have agreed to take you in for the time being.”

(Y/N) calmed down after hearing this. At least Ciel did not expect her to travel along.

“We will be leaving in two days. Make sure you pack thoroughly.”

(Y/N) nodded, her mouth filled with the delicious cookings the servants always prepared. Ciel clicked his tongue at her. Sometimes (Y/N) had the feeling it wasn’t just her choice of men he disapproved of.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Chapter Text

The Midford estate was just as grand as the Phantomhive mansion. It’s rustic and elaborate appearance were befitting of a Marquess. As soon as (Y/N) stepped inside the manor, she was welcomed by the energetic head of the family, Alexis Leon Midford. He gave her a grand tour through the entire building (though (Y/N) was sure she would get lost regardless) and ordered his maids to show her her room. Her bedroom represented the rest of the estate perfectly: spacious, lavishly decorated and welcoming. (Y/N) had just freshened up when Lizzy barged in. She and her mother had just finished shopping, and she was so excited to have (Y/N) over as a guest, that she bought her a dress for a celebration that same night.

“Thank you for the thoughtful gift, Lizzy, but you really didn’t have to.” (Y/N) said, feeling guilty she had gifted nothing but a general present to the manor in gratitude. Maybe she should have given Lizzy something on her own. (Y/N) made a mental note to buy Lizzy something the next time she was in town.

“I insist. I did invite a very special guest for tonight as well.” Lizzy gave (Y/N) a meaningful look. (Y/N)’s heart jumped.

“You mean you invited earl Grey?”

“Right you are dear! You’ll have the opportunity to talk to him all evening during dinner!”

“Oh Lizzy, that’s wonderful!” (Y/N) exclaimed. She had looked forward to seeing him again. The Queen’s birthday seemed ages ago. And getting to talk with him without Ciel’s watchful eye on her would be a relief.

Suddenly, (Y/N) was reminded of Snake’s idea.

“Say Lizzy, can I talk to you about something?”

The other girl sat down on the edge of (Y/N)’s bed. “What is it?”

(Y/N) told Lizzy about her chats with Snake, and the suggestion he had made.

“I suppose that seems possible…” Lizzy said after (Y/N) was done explaining, her hand on her chin.

“We just need to figure out how Ciel would profit from me marrying earl Grey. You’re absolutely sure he isn’t engaged already?”

“Positive, dear,” Lizzy nodded. “Who knows, maybe you can interrogate Charles Grey in an subtle way about the matter tonight. Right now, we need to focus on making you the shining star of the dinner party!” Lizzy picked up the dress, and pulled (Y/N) up from the bed.

(Y/N) wasn’t sure if it was the corset of her nerves which made it hard to breath as she walked down the main stairs towards the dining hall. Lizzy had made sure that Paula, her maid, strapped the corset extra tight around her body and, fragile as she may seem, Paula had trapped (Y/N) in a deadly constriction. She was almost certain getting wrapped up by one of Snake’s Boa Constrictors would be less painful. She however clenched her jaw. She wouldn't let herself be bested by clothing on a special night like this. She was thankful towards Lizzy for setting this up, and she was going to make the most of it. She tried to breathe as deeply as she could, and nodded towards a servant to open the double doors of the dining room.

Inside, the marquess, Lizzy and Lizzy’s brother Edward were already waiting. The servant guided her to her seat. Lizzy told (Y/N) that she had arranged a seat for her right next to earl Grey. When (Y/N) took place, however, the seat next to her was still empty. Lizzy, who was sitting across the table, shot her a smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll arrive soon.”

Then, the servant announced the arrival of Lizzy’s mother. (Y/N) got up from her seat. Lizzy’s mother was a stern and proper woman, Ciel had told her, and (Y/N) had to behave with the utmost care around her. The lady in question, Francis Midford, was the sister of Ciel’s mother. She walked over to (Y/N), who bowed.

“Madam the marchioness, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Equally so, Lady Feridge. I hope you found your accommodations to your liking.”

“They are lovely, my lady.”

Marquess Midford sat down, and (Y/N) followed her example. Soon after, the servants announced the arrival of the guests. One by one, they entered, bowed, and were seated. It seemed like forever until a servant finally exclaimed “Earl Charles Grey”.

(Y/N) felt the blood rush to her cheeks the moment he walked over. She had dreamt about seeing him again, but gazing at him in the live flesh was a hundred times better than she could imagine.

Now that the party was complete, the servants served the food, and soon the dining room was filled with the chatter of the guests and the clinking of silverware.

“How lovely to be seated next to the guest of honour,” Grey opened the conversation between two bites of his fork. He seemed to have quite the appetite.

“I hope you’ve been doing well, Earl Grey.”

“Please, call me Charles,” He said, as he took a sip of wine. “And I’ve been doing extraordinary,” he continued.

“I’m glad to hear that, Charles.” Calling him by his first name alone felt good. (Y/N) quickly glanced over to Lizzy, who was talking to Lord Everett, a knight in her father’s order.

“So, how is the search for a betrothed going?” Charles asked. (Y/N) choked on her drink. Trying to to cough all over the table and holding back tears, she managed to answer. “Not very good.”

“Honestly, is lord Phantomhive really that picky?”

“What makes you so sure the fault is his and not mine?” (Y/N) answered after she had recovered.

“You look like a woman who knows what she wants. I can’t imagine you don’t already have someone in mind. Perhaps one of the men who presented themselves to you.”

(Y/N) had to try her best not to sound busted. “It does not matter as long as lord Phantomhive disagrees, but he has all the right to choose someone he can benefit from.”

“Forgive me for saying this, but I think that’s a very wrong thing in the first place. Why should lord Phantomhive profit from the marriage of a girl he has met merely months ago? What right does he have to choose for you?”

“It was a promise of my father to his.”

“Well, that changes the game…” Charles toyed with his fork.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I’ve learnt anything about the late predecessor of the current earl Phantomhive, it’s that he wouldn’t make such ties if he had nothing planned ahead…”

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Chapter Text

(Y/N) wasn’t really sure what Charles meant with that statement, but Charles had brushed it off as quickly as he cleaned his plates (there was quite a stack of them now on his part of the table) as he pressed the subject.

“So, (Y/N). What do you look for in a suitable suitor?”

(Y/N) was too embarrassed to look Charles in the eye.

“Well, I, uh…”

That’s when Lizzy cut in.

“Lord Grey, did you know that (Y/N) has been following fencing lessons?”

“Really now? Don’t you know that playing with swords is dangerous for a woman?” Charles smirked. He then patted his belly, and sighed. “Ah, I’m so full I couldn’t possibly say dessert. Oh wait, I said it anyways!” He happily accepted a plate from a passing servant. (Y/N) and Lizzy looked at him in disbelief.

“I suppose you’re the one teaching her then, Lady Midford?” Charles asked. Lizzy nodded.

“What other past-times does (Y/N) enjoy?”

“I enjoy reading, playing the piano and horseback riding.”

“Seems like we have another thing in common.”

“You like riding horseback? You and (Y/N) should ride horseback together sometime!” Lizzy pointed her spoon at the pair of them.

“Why not? Sounds fun. How about somewhere in the next two weeks? I’ll have to see when I’ll have the time in between her majesty’s duties for me, but I will make sure to send a notice ahead.”

(Y/N) smiled. “That sounds delightful.”

The rest of the evening flew by quickly. After dessert, it was soon time for the guests to depart again, including Charles.

“That was quite the fantastic meal. I look forward to seeing you again, (Y/N),” he said as he approached his carriage. (Y/N) and Lizzy waved until Charles was out of sight. They then slumped against the doorframe.

“Ugh I’m so full. This corset is truly killing me,” (Y/N) complained.

“Say what you want, but you looked truly dashing tonight,” Lizzy told her.

“Thank you Lizzy. For everything.” (Y/N) meant it. Lizzy had grown on her since the day she met her at the Phantomhive estate.

“You can repay me by trying your best to convince Ciel of you and Charles. You make the cutest couple together! Well, almost as cute as me and Ciel.”

(Y/N) felt the cool night breeze whipping up her skirt. She looked up at the stars. Just what had Charles meant by the late earl Phantomhive planning everything ahead. She shook her head. She shouldn’t worry about such a thing. As long as she got to spend time with Charles, what did it matter?

Now that (Y/N) was at the Midford manor, she and Lizzy had all the time to pick up her fencing lessons whenever they felt like it. Even Lizzy’s mother joined them occasionally. She was a top-notch sword wielder herself, as expected. one particular hot day, while (Y/N) and Lizzy were practising outside, the head maid came walking towards them.

“Lady Feridge. A letter for you.”

(Y/N) looked at the consignor.

“Buckingham Palace…”

Lizzy hurried over as (Y/N) perched herself against a tall oak tree.

“Is it a letter from Charles?”

(Y/N) opened the letter and began reading aloud.

To my dearest lady Feridge,

I am happy to invite you to the Royal Mews of Buckingham Palace on the 12th of august forthcoming, for an exclusive tour combined with an afternoon ride on horseback.

I will be awaiting your arrival at 1 o’clock in the afternoon.

Kind regards,

Earl George Charles William Albert Grey

Private secretary of Her Majesty Victoria, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland Queen, Defender of the Faith, Empress of India.

“A private tour through the Royal Mews? How exquisite!” Marques Midford, who was just taking an afternoon scroll through the garden, had stopped to listen to the letter, exclaimed.

“How romantic, you mean! And so soon! The 12th is tomorrow” Lizzy joined her father in celebration.

“You can join me there. I have an inspection scheduled at the royal palace,” said the marques.

“Thank you very much, lord Midford.” (Y/N) gripped the letter tightly. Was this Charles Grey trying to court her? Or was this just an act out of friendship? (Y/N) was determined to find out by the end of tomorrow.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

“(Y/N), don’t be so nervous, your palms are all sweaty,” Lizzy groaned as she tried to fit on a pair of gloves on (Y/N).

“I’m not nervous. It’s the warm weather,” (Y/N) protested, but she knew she was lying. She hadn’t slept all night thinking about this afternoon. How was she going to find out what the earl felt for her? What was she going to ask him? Her head was still buzzing with worries when it was time to climb into the carriage opposite of lord Midford. The ride towards the palace wouldn’t take too long, (Y/N) knew, as the Midford estate wasn’t that far away from London.

“Do you visit Buckingham Palace often, marques?”

“On occasion, my dear. When duty calls for it, you can find me there.”

For a little while, there was a silence between the two of them. Then lord Midford asked: “How is the tea business doing?”

“It is thriving, marquess. The profits have nearly doubled since two years ago. It seems the grounds in China became even more fruitful than my predecessor initially thought.”

“I am glad to hear that. Your father was a remarkable man.”

(Y/N) nodded. “He was indeed.” Though she missed him greatly, the last few months had been unraveling new details about him, and (Y/N) wondered if she ever really knew her father. She remembers how mad she was when she found out someone unknown to her would be deciding who she would marry. She had screamed and cried how unfair it was for her father to arrange such a thing. But with both her parents gone and no siblings to comfort her, she had no other choice but to honour her father’s dying wishes. So with nowhere else to go, she had turned to lord Phantomhive. A man her father spoke grandly about, though it seemed he had lost his own battle as well. Or…

“Ah, there we are.” the marquis shook (Y/N) out of her thoughts. She looked out the window. To her surprise, the royal palace was nowhere to be seen.

“Weren’t the stables near the palace?”

The marques laughed. “The Mews are at the other side of her majesty’s private garden, right here.” He nodded towards the arched gate, flanked by two guards. “This is your stop.”

“Thank you again, marques.” (Y/N) stepped out of the carriage as one of the guards opened the door. The marques simply waved at her, and his carriage continued, disappearing around the corner.

“We humbly welcome you to the Royal Mews, lady Feridge,” the guard said.

“Earl Grey is waiting for you inside,” continued the other guard, while opening the gates. (Y/N) walked in.

The arched main pathway contained many stoïc pillars, and led to an open square. The square held what appeared to be the guest carriages. (Y/N) took a look around, when Charles appeared from behind one of the coaches.

“Ah, (Y/N), how very lovely to see you. Welcome to the Royal Mews.” He bowed with an amused face upon reading (Y/N)’s spooked reaction.

“That was not funny,” (Y/N) pouted, her face turning red. Charles shook his head, and offered her his arm. “Would you be so kind as to join me for tea in the royal carriage venue?”

The centerpiece of the royal carriage venue was the Gold State Coach. The grand masterpiece had been used for the coronation of the three most recent monarchs of England; king George IV, king William IV and finally, queen Victoria. These events were immortalized in life-sized paintings adorning the walls of the room. Near the golden coach a table and two chairs had been placed. It looked like the tea was already served. Charles pulled back a chair for (Y/N), before sitting down himself.

“I’m glad you could make it on such a short notice,” he began, taking a biscuit off one of the plates on the table.

“Lizzy and I were practising fencing when the letter arrived. She and her father stood on it that I’d reschedule to come here.”

“Still playing with swords? When will you learn that’s a dangerous thing for a lady to do?”

“Excuse me but Elizabeth Midford happens to be one of the best fencers I know.”

“Lady Midford has a lot of natural talent, that goes without saying,” Charles agreed, taking another biscuit. “So, what do you think of the Mews up to this point?”

“The carriages certainly look beautiful,” (Y/N) said, looking around.

“Why of course, they need to be befitting of a royal head.”

(Y/N) looked at Charles in admiration. “You really are very loyal to queen Victoria, aren’t you?”

“I am honoured to serve her majesty is all,” Charles answered. He then got up. “I’m quite bored of tea already. How about I show you the horses?”

(Y/N) blinked in surprise. “Sure…”

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

[airealestatephotographer]

This one has it all! Better than new RANCH home on private ACRE lot in Parade of Homes community with a FINISHED BASEMENT, In-Ground POOL, Screened Porch and 3 Car Garage! JMG built former model home has been upgraded with all the extras. 1500 SF of finished basement brings total living area to approx 3500 SF! Open concept living area has soaring vaulted beamed ceilings, loads of hardwoods, upgraded moldings, dining rm with tray ceiling, white and contrast cabinetry kitchen has granite counters, large island with breakfast bar, double oven, specialty hood, pantry and so much more. Screened room with vaulted ceiling leads outdoors to the acre back yard featuring in-ground pool with stampcrete and paver patios. Split bedroom plan for privacy. Owner's suite has walk-in shower, double vanity with floating upper cabinetry, and WIC with custom organizers. Finished basement has the ultimate entertaining wet bar and space for pool table, game table, TV Area, theater room, office/4th BR, egress window, plus unfinished storage area and space for workout equipment. 3 car tandem garage with shelving, plus parking area on side of garage. Exterior lot has no homes behind.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Urban(e)🚬7

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; criminal activity; alcohol; PTSD; threats, blood, humiliation, grief. Read at your own risk

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features Tommy Shelby x reader. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: when your father went away to serve in The Great War, you took over his side business in the shed. After the war, he struggles to recover from the damage of his trauma as an unexpected investor shows up at your door.

Note: Have a fabulous Friday! Hope you’re doing wonderfully and that even if you aren’t, this chapter makes your day a bit easier.

In other better news, we will have a special announcement at noon!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You dump the smelly ash and butt from the tray, just out the window so it’s carried up by the wailing winds. The early winter furor shakes the panes as you close them and pull the curtains together. You cautiously toe along the edge of the finely patterned carpet and dare to feel the upholstery of the long couch. The furniture is nicer than much of the decades old antique of the farmstead, no hasty patches, ancient scratches, or mismatching repairs to the wood.

You enter the kitchen. There’s a proper stove in there and an electric circle of lights hanging around an iron frame. You consider the copper kettle and the polished countertops. This place seems too elegant for the grey city. Too elegant for you. You fill the full-bodied kettle and set it on the coil to heat.

You go back into the front room as you wait for the water to whistle and slowly venture down the hallway. There’s a bedroom there, spacious, and laid out just as delicately as the rest. The bed is larger than your single mattress on the farm, the coverlet showing no fray like the hand-made quilt across your mattress, and at least a dozen pillows to rest your head. You shut the door to the room, ignoring it.

There’s a bathroom across the hall, interior plumbing and shining porcelain. A chain hanging to flush the bowl and a long oval mirror on the wall. You surpass it as you hear the subtle shake of the kettle. 

There’s another room on the other side of the front room, the windows tall and wide. You imagine in the summer the sun shines brightly on the better days, a sort of facsimile terrace with a daybed and chaise longue, a round table for two meant for dining or drinking. There’s a bar of polished walnut against the rear wall and a bottle of Corporal’s on top; waiting, mocking.

You shake your head and return to the kitchen as the water whines with heat. You find some tea leaves in the cupboard but have to steady your shaking hands as you try to pour over the steamy water. You wait for it to steep and tap your fingers on the counter.

The tears fall without warning and you hardly realise when they begin. You’ll have to be mindful around Shelby. You hear your father’s voice as you close your eyes, the warm streaks cooling on your cheeks as you sniff. A brave man who died for a weak girl like you.

You wipe your nose with your sleeve and shudder as you quell your weeping. You dump out the wet leaves and take your tea without milk into the living room. You put it on the round table beside the couch and open your bag. You frown at the club resting atop your wool sweater. Ali.

You exhale and push it to the bottom of your bag and sit back. You’ll sleep on the couch in your clothes. Hopefully the tea will help you rest, but you suspect the thought of your father might keep you awake.

🚬

The factory steams and puffs as you enter. A man introduces himself as Yuri, he’s the overseer of the facility, an employee of the former company stationed there. He tells you another, Clarence, runs the packaging sector and you’ll see to the brewing and quality inspections. You keep your arms crossed as you follow him along the walkways and look down on the industrial sills and men sweating and swarming like ants.

“And a office,” he says in his thick accent; Hungarian, maybe? There was a Hungarian family in the small town near your farm and they were friendly enough. “The boss says you get a office,” he points you along and you turn off the floor.

You nod and follow him along. He takes you to a door and taps on the frosted glass set into the wood. 

“My office just to the left,” he says, “and Clarence sits on the dock, he never come here.”

“Alright, thank you, Yuri,” you reply as you drop your arms.

“Madam,” he says overly politely, for the third time lifting his cap and tilting his head, “boss says treat you well. We mean men but we know a lady.”

“You may call me by my name,” you insist, “we are both workers. I prefer no privileges.”

“Ah, very wise, lady,” he says, “I see why he choose you.”

“Yuri,” you chide, “thank you. I will get myself settled from here, yes?”

“Yes, madam, course,” he says and almost bows, “very good.”

You watch the short burly man turn on his heel and march away. You turn and let yourself into your office. A desk, a chair, two ledgers on top; one you recognise, the other with an unbent spine. There’s a shelf of liquor bottles, of all shapes and sizes, and a small rack of books. 

You sigh and sit behind the desk as you open the book of columns you wrote yourself. These numbers will hardly matter now you’ve come to the city. The old farmhouse is futile compared to the beastly plant. You see notes along the margin, in a hand not your own. Thomas, you surmise as you flutter through the pages.

There’s a window behind you. You feel the chill seep through and rise to look through it onto the yard. The sky is bleak as it blankets the dull city and the labour in the lot. You lean on the sill and press your forehead to the cold glass.

You think of the hotel. Would you be here if you’d just go along with that drunken fool? Perhaps his attention would have worn after the foray and he would've let you go home. He might’ve been happy with just the whiskey then.

The door opens behind you without a knock. You spin and touch the cool spot on your head. A woman, older, with dark hair, likely dyed to keep the grey from shining, eyes you up and down as she pushes the door back into frame. She wears a dark blue skirt and matching jacket, a crooked smirk on her lips as she runs her fingers along the thin brim of her cap.

“Ah, so you are the creature Tommy is hiding, eh?” she asks as she tilts her head and approaches the other side of the desk, “what precious trousers.”

You shove your hands in your pockets as you near the desk and watch her, confused. “Can I help you?”

“You stand like him,” she laughs, “oh, god, tell me the lord did not make him in a woman’s body.”

Your brows furrow and you hold in a huff. You wait patiently, much like the rest, she is a talker.

“Polly,” she introduces at last, “Tommy’s aunt and right hand. All those men he keeps close, they like to think they are where I am but I assure you, without me, there would be no Thomas Shelby.”

You offer your name curtly as you stare at her. Her eyes continue their path over you as she considers you closely. She comes around the desk and you turn to face her.

“I’m surprised,” she says, “he likes the delicate ones. You're a farmer. I can tell.”

“Father… father was a farmer, yes,” you answer, “I don’t mean to be rude but is there something I can offer you? Any reason you’ve come here?”

“My nephew likes to think he’s clever,” she chirps as she backs away and pulls out a cigarette, “you must be the reason for that lump on his head, yes?”

You’re silent as her heels click on the floor and she lights her tobacco.

“You are,” she laughs again, “must be. He’s been… evasive. I hear he’s been all over the countryside of late. Now he’s brought you here, close.”

“Are you here to tell me about his… wife?”

“Not yet,” she corrects, “let’s see if he does manage to put a ring on that bitch. And no, I do not stand on her accord.”

“I am here to run the whiskey,” you say as you shift on your soles, “so?”

“Mmm,” she hums and turns to lift a leg onto the desk, half-sitting on it as she cranes to look at you and flicks ashes onto the floor, “I don’t think so. Maybe he’s not… well, maybe he’s not had you yet but I know him and I know how he gets when he’s a woman in his sights. Like the soldier he is, he sees nothing else.”

She sucks in smoke and blows it out. You stay as you are, put off by this stormy woman.

“I’m happy for it, can’t stand the blonde rat,” she sneers, “and you can keep me happy,” she stands and turns to you, arm bent as she holds the cigarette between two fingers, “by watching my toes and where you step.”

“I have no interest in Mr. Shelby’s business past these walls,” you assure her, “and none in him.”

She guffaws, thoroughly amused and tosses the cigarette to the floor and stomps it with her heel, “that won’t stop him.”

“I know,” you say brusquely, “Polly,” you step closer to the desk and pull your hands from your pockets, rest your fingers on the desk, “you’ve come, you’ve seen me, now I ask that you leave me in peace. I have been disturbed enough by your kin.”

Her brows raise slightly and her lips part. She presses the tip of her tongue to her teeth and narrows her eyes.

“Oh, I do like you,” she says, “anyhow, you may go about your… work?” She shrugs, “say, you got Roma in you?”

“Not so far as I know,” you answer.

She grins and lifts her chin, “well, as you wish, I’ll leave you be.”

She spins and leaves you just as quickly as she came, the door shaking in the frame in her stead. You fall into the chair and grunt through your teeth in frustration. You don’t need Thomas and his threats, nor this woman and her ridiculous shows of superiority, or the rest of those men and their inflated egos.

You hate it. You hate it all. And it’s far from over.

🚬

You’re not surprised to find Thomas waiting, only that you didn’t see him sooner. You enter the apartment and barely react to his shoulders, limned in the low light dimming through the window. You shut the door and slowly, he glances over his shoulder. He tuts as he turns.

“You’re late,” he says, though he gave no time for his arrival.

“Working your factory,” you counter as you take your gloves off and hang your coat, “I am here.”

His blue eyes flit down your figure and his lips twitch, “and no change? I left some skirts in your closet.”

“I cannot wear those in a factory,” you rebuff as you stand on the other side of the couch, “Mr. Shelby.”

He’s quiet as he smiles. You keep from wincing as suddenly he pats his stomach. “You know, I am famished. Perhaps you might treat me to dinner. You know, I eat out so often, I forget what a real meal tastes like.”

You swallow as your teeth clench. You know what he’s playing at. You this is a farce, a joke to him. 

“You like mince?” you ask plainly.

“Wouldn’t mind it,” he pushes his jacket back and shoves his hands in his pockets, slowly walking along the back of the couch toward you. Polly was right, you think, as you resist mirroring him. “Those clothes smell like whiskey, think you should take them off.”

“Right,” you don’t back away, you can’t give an inch in his game, “I’ll change and–”

“Right here is fine,” he interjects, “there’s an apron in the kitchen.”

You meet his eyes and for a moment, you just glare. He holds your gaze as he pushes his shoulders back. You squint and nod as you unbutton your cardigan and wiggle it down your arms. 

You stand in a stalemate as you blindly toss your sweater and work at unbuttoning your blouse. It flutters over the wool as you kick off your shoes and open your trousers. You let them fall and lift each foot to tear off your socks. You curl your lip as you stand in nothing but your underwear and at last, his attention slips and he peeks down at your body.

“Well,” he breathes, “look at you.”

You remain rigid and unmoving. His arm moves as if he’ll touch you then he rescinds it and checks his watch as he steps away.

“You’ve whiled away enough time,” he rebukes, “go on then.”

You hesitate and force yourself to move. You go to the kitchen and take the apron from the hook. You hook it over your neck and tie it at the waist. You pull open the icebox. You hear him behind you as he enters. The chair scrapes and his weight drops onto the seat. 

You search out a paper packet of beef and some fruits. You set it on the counter and look through the cupboards for the spices. You set to kneading it all together and rinse off your hands. You hear a low hum, so low you barely catch it. You turn to glance at Thomas, legs wide as he watches you calmly, hands unseen beneath the table.

“Potatoes?” you ask as you turn back.

“Certainly,” he says.

You go to the small pantry hidden behind the fridge and return with a handful of potatoes. You begin to peel and wash them off. You stare at the blade overly long and hear a low chuckle.

"I've got my gun but I'd like to see you follow that whim," Thomas muses. You put the knife down without a word.

You set an iron pan on the burner and add the mince to the heat. You dump the potatoes into a large pot of water and put it to boil. You clean up the scraps and place away the unused ingredients.

“I’ll take something to drink,” Thomas says sharply, “not sure how you do it in a barn, but it is usually offered to guests.”

Your throat constricts and you face him wryly, “what would you, like Mr. Shelby?”

“Is that an answer you truly want?” he smirks and your lips thin. He catches the hint of your irritation and basks in it, “whiskey.”

Silently, you cross the kitchen and as you pass him, you feel a whispering caress along the top of your thigh. You don’t stop, you keep going. Through the front room and into the sunroom, you swipe the bottle of Corporal’s and return to him. You plunk it on the table and retrieve a short glass from the cupboard.

You put it down before him and uncork the bottle. You pour it carefully and a pinch sends a tingle through your ass. You spill a little over the side and set the whiskey down as you snarl at Thomas. He spreads his hand across your rear without shame and squeezes. He looks up at you and grins.

“How many men’ve you tortured?” he wonders as he trails his fingers up your underwear and tugs at the top, “hiding in trousers like some boy.”

Your hand grips the glass but you stop yourself from pouring it down his front. You stand in tableau as his hand crawls up to grope your tit.

“You want to do it,” he teases, “I dare you. Hmm, we’re having such a good time, you really want to spoil it?”

Your eyes meet him and you draw your hand away from the glass. You stand straight and back away to take a cloth from the drawer. You wipe up the mess you made and ignore another tap on your ass. You dry off your hands and return to the sizzling pan of meat and bubbling pot of potatoes.

“Smells delicious,” he says, “what do you think about pudding?”

[dracowars]

LOVED YOUR TOM RIDDLE. Can I please request a arranged marriage au where yn is in love with him but he hates her so when she decides to let him go or someone else wants to marry her, Tom finally realises he’s in love with her. happ ending :))))

my heart belongs to you | tom riddle

pairing: tom x black!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where tom and y/n are in an arranged marriage

a/n: i'm so sorry for being so inactive recently, uni is taking its toll on me.. i had to do a bit of research for this one and also tom is a pureblood here!

warnings: toxic relationship, violence

universe: harry potter

“Get out of my sight, will you?”, he angrily snaps at you out of nowhere, for the third time already on this still very early day. Furiously, he stomps past you, pushing you to the side harshly, the filled glasses on your tray swaying dangerously. Knowing that you should just leave him alone, you stand there completely frozen at the door, still feeling the breeze on your skin after he stormed past you.

The glasses clink on the serving tray as you try to keep your trembling hands under control, but you terribly fail while tears shoot into your eyes. A lump forms in your throat and you gasp in desperation, losing your composure after hearing the front door slam shut.

Slowly, you slump down and therefore with a loud rattle let happen what could have been foreseen already: a thousand shattered pieces of glass scattered across the floor around you while you cower against the wall, your elegant dress pulled over your knees, your forehead leaning against it. Heavy sobs rock through your body and tears find their way down your cheeks, dripping from your chin onto the expensive fabric of your dress.

You just wanted to spend some time with him. Together, in the house of your parents, who went on a daily trip with their close friends early in the morning, all part of the most notorious popular pureblood families in the wizarding world – the Nott’s, the Macmillan’s, the Malfoy’s, the Lestrange’s. And if his parents were still alive, probably with the Riddle’s as well.

This is primarily the reason why you even are in this position right now; crying and huddled in the living room because your fiancé hates you profoundly.

After graduating from Hogwarts last year, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you, descendant of the pureblood Black family, got engaged to Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last living heir of the Riddle’s. He would offer you a good future, they said, and you would never have to worry about anything again.

But nobody knows that in reality, your own beloved fiancé really does not want to have anything to do with you. He does not even want to stay in the same room as you.

You can’t explain why he acts like this towards you. You do not know why he harbors such an abysmal hatred for you and any clear-headed, rational person would have done something about it long ago. Unfortunately for you, you feel the exact opposite for him.

Your heart belongs to him and only to him.

You have liked him since you first met him at Hogwarts, back in 1938, when the two of you were sorted into the Slytherin house. This initial friendly liking has quickly evolved into something more than that over the years and lead you to where you are now, at a point where you would have never seen yourself back then.

You have already tried everything to convince him that you are not as bad as he seems to think. Every morning you bring him his breakfast, you give him everything he needs. Even when you were still at Hogwarts, you always looked after him, finished his homework for him when he was too busy to do it by himself, and helped him pass all of his exams.

And not once did you hear a thank you. Not then and not now either.

Slowly gathering your thoughts together again, you rub the long sleeves of your velvet dress over your damp face, wiping away all of your tears before you get up on shaky legs and begin to clean up the mess that you have created. After you went back to the kitchen with the broken pieces and some injuries on your hands, your gaze longingly slides out the window.

Outside, the sun stands high over the magnificent garden of the mansion, making the clear water in the fountain shimmer in its bright light. A gentle breeze blows through the air and rustles through the perfectly cut trees that line a small path through the garden.

The loud, excited voices that suddenly roar through the house snap you out of your daydream and you quickly wipe the blood from your fingers before you step into the huge marble entrance hall. You arrive at the front door just in time to open it for your parents, who, to your surprise, did not come back alone. You are amazed to find not too familiar faces in front of you as they climb up the stairs to the door where you are still standing.

“And that has to be Y/N. Oh, how you have grown!”, an older man smiles friendly at you and you return his smile with a certain uncertainty in your face.

“Darling, we brought guests over for dinner today. You surely remember the Lestranges?”, your father announces happily and only now do the faces that you have seen at numerous balls and celebrations seem familiar again. Especially one.

“Reinhard?”, you ask in amazement when you spot him standing behind his parents, a big smile on his face when he sees you.

“Y/N, how nice to see you again”, he grins, carefully pushing his way past your parents in order to slightly bow venerably to you, taking your hand in his to place a kiss on the back of it. “It has been some time.”

“I am sure you have a lot to tell each other”, your mother mentions in a sweet voice, but before she can continue, she watches how your facial expression changes from one second to the other as you look past them, out into the yard.

Next to the carriage with which they have returned, Tom is standing now, petting one of the splendid noble white horses before he joins all of you.

“Tom! There you are, I was already wondering where you went”, your father says, visibly pleased when he too spotted his future son-in-law, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Reinhard?”

“Tom?”

Within a few seconds, the two former best friends lay in each other’s arms, obviously happy to finally see the other again.

“Let us go inside. We want to show you our newest masterpiece of art in our wonderful collection, come on”, your mother announces happily and leads the Lestranges inside, but not without turning around to you once more. “The children can catch up on what they have missed.”

“I can’t believe it! You are really here, Tom. Man, you look even better than at Hogwarts”, Reinhard laughs, playfully pushing Tom to the side while you watch them in silence. “What are you doing here with the Blacks?”

“They kindly took me in”, Tom lies to him and for a moment you think he threw you a glance out of the corner of his eyes after uttering these words. His statement makes Reinhard realize that you were still there with them, who had apparently completely forgotten that you were even there.

“I am so happy to see you again, Y/N!”, he grins and takes a step closer to you, probably to be able to take a closer look at you. “Still just as beautiful as I imagined. And just as smart, I guess?”

Reinhard’s sudden compliments make you blush and your cheeks glow, which is why you nervously avert your gaze from him, directly falling on Tom, who looks at the scene in front of him with incredible resentment.

Unlike Tom, Reinhard was always there for you. You spent a lot of time together in your school days and if your parents had known about your close friendship, you are sure that he would have been your fiancé by now. Which, to be honest, does not sound bad anymore right now.

And yet your heart still belongs to Tom.

When you all sit together at dinner later in the evening, where your parents are talking about irrelevant things like Ministry of Magic, you keep making eye contact with Reinhard, who seems to be staring at you.

“Is there something on my face?”, you ask uncertainly and put your glass back on the table when you can no longer bear his piercing gaze.

“No, no, not at all. I was just wondering how a beautiful witch like you could have become so much more stunning”, Reinhard winks at you, causing you to swallow hard. You are not used to getting compliments, especially not from a handsome young man like him. Before you can answer to him, however, there is a loud clink and you startle, your eyes immediately fixed on the cause of the noise.

The glass, which you have certainly placed far away from the edge, is now lying in your lap, the little liquid that was still inside now spread over your elegant evening gown. You move your chair back in shock when, in the corner of your eye, you see how Tom puts away his wand. And not only did you notice Tom just now, but the rest of them follow your gaze.

“Tom, darling, how about you tell our guests how you and our daughter got to know each other”, your mother suddenly prompts him, not even realizing that he has just deliberately spilled your drink on you. But why did he in the first place?

„I would love to“, Tom puts on a really believable smile that no one but you questions and starts telling them how you met and fell in love with each other. He tells one lie after another, explaining the web of lies that you have spun around you over time to make your relationship as credible as possible, at least in front of other people. And suddenly nobody cares about you or your still soaking wet dress anymore.

“What a wonderful story”, Mrs. Lestrange applauds and everyone else seems to be completely enthusiastic about Tom’s fairytale. To top it off, he then reaches across the table to take your hand in his, just like a real affectionate couple would do.

You lower your gaze as he gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, trying your best to not show how uncomfortable you are. Oh, how much you wish that this were real, that Tom would actually treat you like this when you are alone, the same way as he does in front of your parents.

But he does not and deep down you know that he will never do.

“So, you are engaged?”, Reinhard scrutinizes the statement of his former best friend, his eyes focused on you suspiciously, as if he is expecting an answer from you and not from Tom. A slight pressure on your hand makes you flinch and look up.

“Y-Yes”, you force a smile onto your lips, whereupon Tom seems satisfied with your answer, letting go of your hand again with a - what seemed to you like a – disgusted expression on his face.

An uncomfortable silence spreads between the three of you, which is drowned out by the loud conversation of the adults on the other side of the table. Finally, making up your mind, you clear your throat loudly and get up from your chair, gaining everyone’s attention in a matter of seconds.

“Excuse me, I have to go freshen up for a moment”, you explain with a slight polite bow before turning away to leave the dining room.

“Reinhard, would you be so kind and help Y/N”, Mr. Lestrange asks his son, who stands up with furrowed brows, apparently just as surprised about this sudden request as you, but then follows you out into the hallway with no further objection.

“I really do not need any help, thank you”, you try to get rid of him as you walk up the large staircase leading to the first floor together, only wanting to be alone.

“Dinner like these are totally boring anyway”, he chuckles softly and shows no intentions of leaving your side any time soon, which is why you do not even try to search for further arguments. He follows you to your room where you are able to tear yourself away from him to put on a new dress while he waits outside in front of the door.

With an equally elegant burgundy red dress you step out of your room after a few minutes, Reinhard’s eyes greeting you with a sparkle.

“Wow”, he breathes out barely audible and takes you hand without asking to swirl you around, causing your dress to fly around gorgeously. Unintentionally, warmth rises in your face again and your hearts makes a barely noticeable jump inside your chest when he looks deep into your eyes after catching you back in his arms.

The loud clearing of a throat behind you makes you turn around in shock, only to see that Tom himself is now standing at the end of the corridor, not seeming very enthusiastic.

“We did not see you there, Tom”, Reinhard disguises his obvious nervousness with a laugh, acting like Tom had just caught you in doing something he should not have seen. Tom, however, does not even react to his words, but looks past Reinhard at you, his eyebrows raised meaningfully.

But when you do not move under his piercing gaze, his facial expression changes and he quickly approaches you, Reinhard instinctively pushing you behind him so that you can only see Tom approaching further over his shoulder. Before neither you nor Reinhard can say or do anything, Tom has already pulled out his wand and aims it directly at Reinhard, who flies back through the air only a few seconds later, hitting the hard marble floor at the end of the corridor with a thud.

“What the-?!”

“Come with me”, Tom orders, now standing directly in front of you. When you stubbornly refuse, he suddenly grabs your wrist to pull you away from there. No matter how much you fight against his firm grip, you cannot tear yourself away from him as he pulls you into the closest room, which turns out to be the library.

Once there, you can finally free yourself from his tight grip, but before you can reach for the doorknob to leave immediately, he locks the door with a spell. Angrily, you turn to him, despair written all over your stunning face.

“What is this supposed to be, Tom? Let me out of here, now!”, you command him in a loud voice, not caring if anybody can hear.

“What did he want from you?”, he asks you urgently and steps closer to you. Since the door is in your back, every possible escape route is blocked, and you are caught.

“We just talked to each other, you know. Like normal people do”, you answer irritably and cross your arms in front of your chest, not in the mood to justify yourself, especially not in front of someone who does not care about you at all and not after what he has done.

“But that did not look like it.”

“Tom, stop it.”

“You belong to me and nobody else!”

These words coming out of his mouth echo loudly through the dark library, his face wrapped in an eerie candlelight. Before you can even control yourself and fully process what he said, you severely slap him.

Frightened by your own horrible deed, you immediately pull your hand away, your gaze filled with fear, but the anger that keeps building up inside of you winning the upper hand after all.

“How dare you call me your property?!”, you scream in rage and tears form in your eyes because of your uncontrollable anger. However, Tom needs a moment to collect his thoughts after your heavy smack before he can answer you.

“You are my fiancé”, he spits out coldly, a touch of shock in his voice, apparently not expecting you to react like this.

“And that does not make me nowhere near your property! You never treat me like your fiancé anyway, so why now all of a sudden?!”, you bicker at him, your voice loud and constant, even though you would like to flee from this situation right away if you were able to.

But Tom does not have an answer.

“Fine, okay. If you have nothing to say to me, like you never have, then I will go back now and ask my parents to end this damn failed engagement and engage me with someone else who truly cares for me!”

Suddenly, without letting you time to catch your breath after your outburst, he presses you with your back against the door completely, his hands tightly grabbing your wrists, a little too tight for your personal liking.

“You mustn’t do that”, he softly whispers, his head lowered as if he does not dare to look you in the eyes.

“What is stopping me?”, you hiss, still full of anger and – probably for the very first time – hatred towards him.

But when you feel his lips on yours all of a sudden, all of these emotions evaporate and all that remains is your racing heartbeat, which is being repaired at this very moment. You never would have thought that at some point in your life the moment would come when Tom Marvolo Riddle, who absolutely loathes his fiancé, kisses you.

After kissing you, he looks straight into your eyes, and the Tom you met in 1938 is standing in front of you again. The Tom you fell so deeply in love with.

“I can’t explain it to you”, he finally breaks the silence, his gaze directed to the floor as he moves away from you, giving you enough space to breathe regularly again. You, however, do not say anything but just stare at him.

“I was not aware that I am capable of feeling such feelings for someone. I am unfamiliar with this feeling and I did not know how to deal with it, Y/N. I treated you badly because I did not want it to be true, I did not want to accept it. I could not imagine having feelings for the little nuisance that has always been running after me”, Tom explains, choosing each and every single word very carefully, trying to put his emotions into words which does not really work the way he would like it to. But that is how you know him. You know that this confession must be extremely difficult for him, but you can’t help but feel a sense of relief inside of you.

“When?”, you ask and manage, with this tiny little word, to make him look up at you. “When did you know?”

“Since I have been here. You served me every day and took care of me, even though I wanted to push you away from me with all of my might. You have already helped me so many times in the past without me even asking, you have always accepted me for who I am”, he desperately tries to but his feelings into words, asking himself what he is even doing right now.

“Tom..”

“No, I have to sincerely apologize to you. I had no right to treat you the way I did. And also today.. when I saw you with him and how well you got along, it finally became clear to me. Reinhard has felt something for you since our school days, I know that even though I could never understand, but now I do. I understand why he fell in love with you”, Tom continues without breathing, pouring out all of his feelings that he has hidden for so long.

“I understand if you want to dissolve this engagement and I will not stop you if that is what you want”, he quickly adds, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. He already prepares himself for the worst when you are the one getting closer to him this time.

“Idiot”, you smile slightly and place a gentle kiss on his lips while he looks at you puzzled. “I love you, I thought you knew that.”

“I know, but-“

“But nothing”, you interrupt him and take his hand to lead it to your fast pounding heart. “It always belonged to you.”

[jlalafics]

Sunday Snippet: "Holly & Ivy"

Summary: One year after the Bake-Off, Katniss and Peeta ready themselves for the opening of Holly and Ivy, their bakery and restaurant. With it comes meddling family, former Bake-Off contestants, and friends, and of course, the inevitable question of what comes next for Panem’s favorite couple. Fluff, fluff, and maybe a smidge of smut.

A follow up to "The Great Panem Christmas Bake-Off"

“That’s it. Grip it firmly…now slide your hand down but keep the pressure…yes!”

Katniss looks over her shoulder, smiling in amusement.

“That is the last time I let you watch me fill eclairs. You somehow turned it into something totally pervy.” She straightens up, placing the éclair she filled onto the tray next to her. “These have to be perfect for the photoshoot tomorrow morning. Effie will have my head if everything isn’t in tip-top shape, as she would say. I highly doubt she would be into obscenely filled eclairs.”

I smirk thinking of the prim and proper Bake-Off host.

“She’s such a square now that she’s hooking up with Haymitch.”

“I disagree.” Katniss puts down the piping bag, stepping towards me. “Prim and I came back after dinner with Rue and Johanna in the city and they were in Haymitch’s room—” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “God, the mouth on that woman…dirtier than a subway train floor.”

Gathering her into my arms, I kiss the top of her head.

“Poor Katniss.” I sniff her hair, smelling cake flour and cinnamon. An intoxicating scent for a man who comes from a family of bakers. “What can I do to erase that memory from your mind?”

“Well…” She unbuttons the top of her chef’s coat and something inside roars awaiting her next move. Her lips rise sensuously, and I watch as the tip of her tongue dart out to wet her lips. “We can create a new memory.”

I’m hard instantly.

“Like the memory of me doing you against the display case?”

“I was thinking against the ovens in the back. I don’t want to explain why my ass mark has marred our pristine new case.”

It only takes me a second to lift her into my arms bridal-style. Katniss recovers quickly, her arms wrapping around my neck as she watches me heatedly.

“What are we waiting for?” she quips. “We have some ovens to christen.”

I gaze down at those wide greys. “God, I love you.”

Then I’m rushing us into the kitchens, her laughter, and kisses buried into my neck.

I know it then—life can’t get any better than this.