🤍

Duchess Frances and Duke William Monroe had always fought over toys and trinkets since they were young. These small squabbles never ended, even when they reached adulthood. Especially when they both had their sights set on you, the pretty little maid. Both siblings were incredibly competitive over you, their sweet, oblivious maid.

You had been with them since they were children since you were the daughter of a maid. And once you were a teen, you worked for the family too… and those two siblings made your life a living hell. You had no idea that they did such awful acts upon you for your utmost attention rather than sadistic pleasure, but how were you to know the truth? They merely learned love through what they observed between their cold parents.

Frances used to cut your hair without your permission and stuff the remnants into a tin under he bed, while William had a much stranger habit. He enjoyed keeping your dirty socks. They were both so strange to you as the years went on. What started at childish bullying turned into a strange dynamic they had with no other house servant.

When adulthood finally came, Frances Monroe became a diva. Unlike her war commander brother, who threw elaborate parties and had gaggles of women dancing on his arms, she’d flaunt her furs and jewelry amongst the party guests. And she made you, her maid, do her hair and makeup multiple times a day just so she could have your hands on her. Frances adored the attention she recieved from other women, but didn’t like the attention of men… the socialite didn’t quite understand why, but she gravitated towards you. You were the only one who indulged her every command and it made her feel special. Even though Frances failed to realize you didn’t quite have a choice.

Your hands were constantly making finger waves in her French bob. You swore your hands were in the permanent shape of the comb and your hands smelled constantly of sugar water. Yet Frances was never satisfied.

“Redo it. You can’t possibly think this hairstyle is acceptable for my party guests.” She’d tell you each time despite how good the hair looked. This was all to have your constant attention… and to keep you away from her older brother, William.

When you finally had free time, you’d be hounded by William who wanted you to fetch him all kinds of assortments. Whether it was drinks or snacks, he’d ask for them in bountiful amounts. Yet that wasn’t the worst part, the worst part was when William had you feed him and it was always a show.

William would beckon you over like a dog in front of so many people before he’d have you nearly straddling his lap to hand-feed him an appetizer or an olive from his martini. His blue eyes would be half lidded and dazed… like you were yet another woman he wanted as a conquest. It made you sick.

You hated those two spoiled brats. The hours you worked as a servant were so long and demanding and the pay? It was so low, you almost felt like a pet rather than a worker. You worked multiple jobs since the Monroes' cutback on servants in the manor. There were hardly any male servants due to the ongoing war… and you knew it was only a matter of time before one of the few men left in this house might try to put their hands on you. You had heard stories from other maids… and you had no interest in being a bed warmer and ultimately, known as a trollop it’s why you’ve been saving most of your checks. You needed enough for a ticket to sail across the Atlantic to America… maybe you’d find a better life in New York than working for this awful Duchy.

You sat up as you went to the hidden hole you had hidden under your mattress where you kept a metal tin full of shillings. You had about £14 that you’ve collected over three years. It’d be enough for a boat ticket… You only made about that much a year as a parlor maid. Which was more than what you made years ago. You were grateful for the meager pay rise because you were that much closer to freedom. You packed your tin back where it was before you made sure it was secure once more. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover this… you had been talking to a sailor for a few months now on getting on the hair and he promised you a spot if you ever truly needed it. You took great advantage of your looks to get what you wanted. And you were hopeful that he’d keep his word.

The days went on and you noticed William began to seek you out more and more. Whether it be to ask you to fetch him a beverage or to stand as close as possible beside you while you dusted. It unnerved you how he looked at you, yet the older maids could do nothing to help you.

“I’ll be going to war soon,” William told you softly. His blue eyes filled with longing. “…meet me in my room tonight.”

Frances angrily stormed into the room when one of the maids let it slip that William asked you that request. Her blue eyes were narrowed as her pin curls were still pinned to her head since she had waited all morning for you, specifically, to come to her room to take them out despite her having a personal maid.

“How dare you indulge my brother! You are to be at my beck and call, not his!” She huffed in annoyance, her pale cheeks flushed red. “I’m far better company than that sheik! Look at my hair! I need you to fix it.”

You obediently followed her to her room as she practically dragged you. Frances complained the entire time as you fixed her blonde bob for her. The socialite was leaning into your hands the whole time which made your job even more difficult. If only you looked up to see the dazed expression on her face, then you’d know how Frances really felt. Frances felt the feelings for you that a man would feel for a woman and that really upset her. Because Frances knew she could never truly have you. She’d have to marry a nobleman one day. Unless… She took you back with her.

It rained that night, but you quietly went to William’s room as he asked. You didn’t want to upset him since William had a worse temper than Frances, herself.

He was quick to wave you over to him as he sat in his chair. His blue eyes studied your form in an emotion you could only describe as reverence. Which was odd since he was a known ladies' man. Yet you never truly looked into whether or not he genuinely joined those ladies in his room. He was just a privileged elite in your eyes anyways.

“You’ve grown so beautiful.” William quietly told you, and his hand went to grab yours. His grip was as tight as the coils of a snake around its prey. “It’s not fair that my sister keeps you all to herself.”

The moment he went to try to pull you into his lap, you quickly tried to push away from him. His blue eyes widened before they became half-lidded. Did you enjoy teasing him? How naughty…

“I’m sorry, my lord. I hadn’t meant to offend you-“ William chuckled as he continued to let his hands roam your body. He had been holding back for so long but no other woman could get him quite as worked up as you did.

“Nonsense. I’m finally able to appreciate you and your beautiful body now that my father isn’t here. Do you know how hard it was to keep all the men away from you all these years? I didn’t want another man to ever touch you, sweetheart.” William smiled. “I’ve been carrying a torch for you for years and now I finally get to touch you.”

The moment he went to pull you in for a kiss, you shoved him before you fled. The Duke hardly had time to register what had just happened before he gave chase. If you glanced back, you would have see the expression of pure panic on his face. William had thought you liked him too… You had never lashed out like this before!

“Wait! Please-“

But you rushed into your room and took out that little tin full of money from under your mattress before you fled down the staircase. A few servants merely gave you a glance at first until they saw the young master chasing you. The room soon descended into pandemonium, which of course attracted Frances to exit her room in shock. Her blue eyes widened when she saw you rushing out the door in only your maid uniform and your little, metal tin.

“Wait! Where are you going?!” Frances soon descended the stairs as well, yet she wasn’t quick enough. You were out that door. Both siblings screamed for you over and over again, but you drowned them out.

Duchess Frances and Duke William Monroe had always fought over toys and trinkets since they were young. These small squabbles never ended, even when they reached adulthood. Especially when they both had their sights set on you, the pretty little maid. Both siblings were incredibly competitive over you, their sweet, oblivious maid.

You had been with them since they were children since you were the daughter of a maid. And once you were a teen, you worked for the family too… and those two siblings made your life a living hell. You had no idea that they did such awful acts upon you for your utmost attention rather than sadistic pleasure, but how were you to know the truth? They merely learned love through what they observed between their cold parents.

Frances used to cut your hair without your permission and stuff the remnants into a tin under he bed, while William had a much stranger habit. He enjoyed keeping your dirty socks. They were both so strange to you as the years went on. What started at childish bullying turned into a strange dynamic they had with no other house servant.

When adulthood finally came, Frances Monroe became a diva. Unlike her war commander brother, who threw elaborate parties and had gaggles of women dancing on his arms, she’d flaunt her furs and jewelry amongst the party guests. And she made you, her maid, do her hair and makeup multiple times a day just so she could have your hands on her. Frances adored the attention she recieved from other women, but didn’t like the attention of men… the socialite didn’t quite understand why, but she gravitated towards you. You were the only one who indulged her every command and it made her feel special. Even though Frances failed to realize you didn’t quite have a choice.

Your hands were constantly making finger waves in her French bob. You swore your hands were in the permanent shape of the comb and your hands smelled constantly of sugar water. Yet Frances was never satisfied.

“Redo it. You can’t possibly think this hairstyle is acceptable for my party guests.” She’d tell you each time despite how good the hair looked. This was all to have your constant attention… and to keep you away from her older brother, William.

When you finally had free time, you’d be hounded by William who wanted you to fetch him all kinds of assortments. Whether it was drinks or snacks, he’d ask for them in bountiful amounts. Yet that wasn’t the worst part, the worst part was when William had you feed him and it was always a show.

William would beckon you over like a dog in front of so many people before he’d have you nearly straddling his lap to hand-feed him an appetizer or an olive from his martini. His blue eyes would be half lidded and dazed… like you were yet another woman he wanted as a conquest. It made you sick.

You hated those two spoiled brats. The hours you worked as a servant were so long and demanding and the pay? It was so low, you almost felt like a pet rather than a worker. You worked multiple jobs since the Monroes' cutback on servants in the manor. There were hardly any male servants due to the ongoing war… and you knew it was only a matter of time before one of the few men left in this house might try to put their hands on you. You had heard stories from other maids… and you had no interest in being a bed warmer and ultimately, known as a trollop it’s why you’ve been saving most of your checks. You needed enough for a ticket to sail across the Atlantic to America… maybe you’d find a better life in New York than working for this awful Duchy.

You sat up as you went to the hidden hole you had hidden under your mattress where you kept a metal tin full of shillings. You had about £14 that you’ve collected over three years. It’d be enough for a boat ticket… You only made about that much a year as a parlor maid. Which was more than what you made years ago. You were grateful for the meager pay rise because you were that much closer to freedom. You packed your tin back where it was before you made sure it was secure once more. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover this… you had been talking to a sailor for a few months now on getting on the hair and he promised you a spot if you ever truly needed it. You took great advantage of your looks to get what you wanted. And you were hopeful that he’d keep his word.

The days went on and you noticed William began to seek you out more and more. Whether it be to ask you to fetch him a beverage or to stand as close as possible beside you while you dusted. It unnerved you how he looked at you, yet the older maids could do nothing to help you.

“I’ll be going to war soon,” William told you softly. His blue eyes filled with longing. “…meet me in my room tonight.”

Frances angrily stormed into the room when one of the maids let it slip that William asked you that request. Her blue eyes were narrowed as her pin curls were still pinned to her head since she had waited all morning for you, specifically, to come to her room to take them out despite her having a personal maid.

“How dare you indulge my brother! You are to be at my beck and call, not his!” She huffed in annoyance, her pale cheeks flushed red. “I’m far better company than that sheik! Look at my hair! I need you to fix it.”

You obediently followed her to her room as she practically dragged you. Frances complained the entire time as you fixed her blonde bob for her. The socialite was leaning into your hands the whole time which made your job even more difficult. If only you looked up to see the dazed expression on her face, then you’d know how Frances really felt. Frances felt the feelings for you that a man would feel for a woman and that really upset her. Because Frances knew she could never truly have you. She’d have to marry a nobleman one day. Unless… She took you back with her.

It rained that night, but you quietly went to William’s room as he asked. You didn’t want to upset him since William had a worse temper than Frances, herself.

He was quick to wave you over to him as he sat in his chair. His blue eyes studied your form in an emotion you could only describe as reverence. Which was odd since he was a known ladies' man. Yet you never truly looked into whether or not he genuinely joined those ladies in his room. He was just a privileged elite in your eyes anyways.

“You’ve grown so beautiful.” William quietly told you, and his hand went to grab yours. His grip was as tight as the coils of a snake around its prey. “It’s not fair that my sister keeps you all to herself.”

The moment he went to try to pull you into his lap, you quickly tried to push away from him. His blue eyes widened before they became half-lidded. Did you enjoy teasing him? How naughty…

“I’m sorry, my lord. I hadn’t meant to offend you-“ William chuckled as he continued to let his hands roam your body. He had been holding back for so long but no other woman could get him quite as worked up as you did.

“Nonsense. I’m finally able to appreciate you and your beautiful body now that my father isn’t here. Do you know how hard it was to keep all the men away from you all these years? I didn’t want another man to ever touch you, sweetheart.” William smiled. “I’ve been carrying a torch for you for years and now I finally get to touch you.”

The moment he went to pull you in for a kiss, you shoved him before you fled. The Duke hardly had time to register what had just happened before he gave chase. If you glanced back, you would have see the expression of pure panic on his face. William had thought you liked him too… You had never lashed out like this before!

“Wait! Please-“

But you rushed into your room and took out that little tin full of money from under your mattress before you fled down the staircase. A few servants merely gave you a glance at first until they saw the young master chasing you. The room soon descended into pandemonium, which of course attracted Frances to exit her room in shock. Her blue eyes widened when she saw you rushing out the door in only your maid uniform and your little, metal tin.

“Wait! Where are you going?!” Frances soon descended the stairs as well, yet she wasn’t quick enough. You were out that door. Both siblings screamed for you over and over again, but you drowned them out.

The hallway outside the rambunctious ballroom did little to subdue his ire; the commotion of violins and chatter still pricked at his composure. Arthur needed quiet solitude to recollect himself, to remind himself that this marriage was a sham, and he had no right to expect anything of you. Oh! But how desperately he wanted you, all of you. He wanted to be the sole subject of your affection, your devotion, hell! Even your resentment would be welcomed, anything but the agonizing indifference you offered him now.

Arthur headed to his study, rage carrying each thunderous step. He shoved the door open, the sound breaking the stillness, and entered his sanctuary of paper and mahogany, only to find that it had been desecrated by a sophisticated leather box resting on his desk. Of course, you had mentioned the delivery to his study, but in his frenzied state, he had failed to register the information until now. 

The sight of the box undid him. Crossing the room, he flipped it open, wanting to inspect the present his wife had bought for another man. Red velvet lined the inside, and nestled within was a bottle of the finest scotch he had ever seen. A maniac laugh split through him at the sight, a gift fitting for a king, and HIS WIFE had bought it for an insufferable pompous wretch.   

“WE? – We!! How preposterous!” Arthur exclaimed aloud, his mind a tangled mess of unbound fury and jealousy, “Haa! As if I would ever agree to buying anything for that ass!” 

Unable to bear the sight of the hideous object, he slammed it shut and sank into the leather armchair at his desk. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead in his palm and took in a deep breath, failing to calm his frantic heart. Worst of all was that horrible foreign feeling in his belly, a twisting and stabbing ache. Why did his wife care so deeply for another? All that effort for what… “damn you, Y/N…” he whispered, resenting you for his pathetic condition.

While Arthur unraveled in the study, you attempted to converse with the attendees, but his rage-filled gaze was all you could think of. Before unease tore you apart, you decided to seek your husband, to ask him what had troubled him. 

Outside his study, you hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door, the commotion of the ballroom a humming in the background.

“What!!” shouted Arthur. Perhaps seeing him was a bad idea.

“May I come in?” you squeaked. Silence reigned for a painfully long moment, and you almost turned away, when finally a more composed response permitted you in.

The door opened to reveal the most brilliant room you had seen. Imposing mahogany shelves lined each wall, stretching to the ceiling, each one heavy with leather-bound volumes. The window by his desk let in the orange glow of a gas lamp from the street. In your moment of admiration, Arthur watched you, noting the wonderment on your face. 

‘Does she like books?’ he asked himself.

Your wandering gaze finally fell on the man, who looked a mess. His usually well-kept hair hung astray, and his brow seemed to be fixed in a deep frown. Closing the door, you stepped forward.

“Arth–,” you halted, remembering he had disliked hearing his name on your tongue, “Is something the matter?, You seemed – you seemed unhappy." 

A viscous smirk settled on his lips, taking you aback. 

“Is something the matter, Haa!,” he barked out, “Yes, sweet wife, there is a matter of the most vexing nature,” his words sharp and cold, worsened your delicate state. 

“Oh, if there is anything I could do to help…” You murmured hesitantly, unsure if you had overstepped, “Anything at all.”    

Leaning back, Arthur regarded you—his wife, who, while wearing the very satin and pearls he had given her, dared to flirt with another man. How he resented you then, tempting little minx, his minx. At that very moment, Arthur decided that Hadley would never taste a drop of the whiskey you had bought. 

“I have decided not to partner with Hadley.”

The dejection on your face was almost instant; all the effort you had devoted to help appease Lord Hadley had been for nought. Moreover, you felt dejected for Arthur, who had spent days and nights slaving away for this partnership to succeed. 

“I am sorry, it is a shame,” you said, sincerely.

Misled by his false assumptions about your wanton nature, Arthur concluded the sincerity of your dejection was for Hadley. Arthur felt like a victim, swindled and cheated, his manly pride insulted by your actions tonight.   

His gaze hardened, “And you are to cease all contact with that man.”

Ignoring such an influential man would be improper, and since propriety dictated your very being, so naturally you reasoned.

“But… It would be impossible to avoid him outright.”

Through clenched teeth, Arthur spoke, “You’ll do as I say, and I won’t hear any more of this.” 

More than his words, his manner of speaking stung you, but you obeyed, nodding at his cold declaration.  

Trying to resist your subservient nature was a lost cause; years of abuse from your father had trained you into docility — a pet made so by necessity, a creature of self-preservation.

However, even as he watched you submit to his decision, his vehement jealousy was not satiated. It demanded a show of possession, an inconceivable urge to stake his claim, to remind you he was the one in charge. His gaze flicked to the extravagant gift on the desk. 

“It would be a waste to let such good whiskey go to waste. Why don’t you pour us a glass,” Arthur spoke with deceptive sweetness. “A toast to our first ball as husband and wife, yes?” 

I ought to be the first to taste, who has more right over you it.

“Should we not save it for a special occasion?” you said softly.

His lip curled with agitation, “Are we not special, my dear?” .

“That isn’t what I meant,” you murmured, averting your gaze.

Not wasting another moment, you grabbed two glasses from the bar cabinet by the window. Your hands hesitated a second before breaking the wax seal on the bottle; procuring this damned thing had cost a ludicrously large sum. And since the allotted budget for the ball had already been spent, you had decided to sell your gold earrings. The very one you wore on your wedding day, the one that had belonged to your mother. Perhaps it had been foolish to sell them, but holding on to material things seemed frivolous, and all you wanted was to be useful.

A defeated sigh left your exhausted lips as you broke the seal, pouring amber gold. Silently, you handed Arthur the other glass.     

“To us,” he cheered. 

The scotch seared down your throat, warm, sweet, and wasted. Exhausted by the night’s affairs, you leaned against the desk, your shoulders dropping, face relaxing. Besides you, Arthur rose from the chair, slamming the empty glass on the desk.  

“It’s good scotch, would have been wasted on that pig,” he sneered. Callously, he took your unfinished drink, swallowing it in one go.

“Do you realize how disruptive you have been?” he accused, matter-of-factly. With the agility of a fox, Arthur was before you, his arms entrapping you between him and the desk. Instinctively, you leaned back; his nearness, a foreign feeling.

“Arthur?” you questioned breathlessly. 

His gaze fell to your mouth, his gut knotting with desire; the scotch hadn’t been enough to quench the ravenous man, he wanted more. Arthur leaned in, nullifying the torturous distance you had created. 

“Little minx,” he answered, a sultry whisper over your lips. A hand lifted to cradle your nape, warm and stern, and then his mouth was on yours. At first, just a press of lips on yours, and then his lips moved against yours in slow, deliberate strokes. A caress on your arm encouraged you to return his plea, and timidly you did. 

A guttural groan escaped him, his pace increasing. You could only gasp at the obscenity and the strange rush in your belly when his tongue invaded your mouth. Teary eyed you attempted to push him away, lungs burning for air, but he didn’t cease his attack, his body pressing into yours as if wanting to consume you whole

Wrapping his arm around your waist, Arthur forced a knee between your legs, creasing the pretty pink gown. In turn, your hands fisted his jacket, heart racing from adrenaline. His lips moved lower, nipping and kissing your jaw, savoring your taste. 

“Arthurrr,” you moaned out.

His breathy gasps and wet kisses echoed in the silence, like a starved man finally getting his fill. His muscled thigh pressed into your heat, the pressure feeding a carnal need in you; your better senses were lost to euphoria. It was only when Arthur nipped a touch too cruelly at your neck that your bliss broke. You yelped loud enough to shock the beast at your throat. 

Arthur froze when he heard your cry, his mouth hovering over the spot he had just marked, chest heaving along yours. What had he done? Stupid, blind jealousy had caused him to hurt you. Oh, and the shame of it, of cornering his lady wife in the study, no matter the offense. What sort of man was he?  

Slowly, Arthur stepped back, looking you over, and God, were you delightful. Arthur couldn’t help but think that bruised pink lips and a neck stained with his desire suited his wife. But he also saw the hesitation and uncertainty; he had scared you. 

Tenderly, he rested his knuckles under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. You only nodded, not having the strength to speak.

“I’ll send Mary to your chambers… to help you freshen.” Impossibly, the blush on his wife’s face worsened at his words, and if Arthur were anymore cruel, he would have laughed at your loveliness, but he knew better than to tease right now.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Hope y'all had fun. I tried to think what a man like Arthur would feel when his emotions were dictating his choices, and I think he would definitely resent the reader for making him lose his mind. He would also deny his feelings (and try to justify them as logical stuff like with the necklace) while being a love-sick puppy. LOL

Also, a little detail I love is that the reader refers to Hadley as Lord Hadley while Arthur calls him Hadley, cause Arthur hates the man and titles. I also took this chapter as a chance to share why the reader is so eager to please Arthur (past abuse from father)

As always you can ask to be added to either of the tag lists, make sure to specify which one, and if I failed to tag you LET ME KNOW <3

Master Tag list:  @hopingtocleaemedschool @aenishas @butterflyevans @lilyalone @sachitales @mementomorimo @hugefanofhannibal @eleanor-florista @tesssatruffel @favme01 @prettyjay103 @i-wear-wet-socks313 @afternoonfairy @datoneartist @jkayy-prodian @ilyannailyanna @minshookie29

He seems to always know what you're feeling nowadays, sometimes before you realize it yourself and is somehow always ready with whatever you need on hand, hell he even initiates affection and not just a quick kiss at the door too! Even suprising you with flowers and gifts just because "you looked sad today"

It almost reminds you of the honeymoon phase of your relationship, when he would earnestly try to understand your feelings and "fix" things, when he would take you to that little restaurant so often because you liked it so much and you two could forget about the rest of the world for a night

It's... nice, really, you're genuinely happy that he's doing all of this but..

He tries to hide it, he really tries, but you've known him for over a decade. You can see how he can't seem to bare looking away from you for even a few seconds as if you might vanish, or the way he treats you like glass that might shatter if he handles you even slightly wrong

It makes you feel guilty but also cherished at the same time, and while you do appreciate the effort he's putting in you also can't help but worry about him

Today was one of those days where you felt like you were regressing, that familiar feeling of exhaustion and numbness creeping up on you, and it made you feel awful since you had been doing so well recently and he has been nothing but perfect to you

But your husband had taken in stride like he had with your previous bad days, taking the day off of work to be able to fully focus on you for the day and insisting you rest while he takes care of the house, and reassuring you when you had weakly protested that you should be the one to it since you're his wife

"It's alright, darling, I don't mind. Please just rest, let me handle everything for today."

"Your only job is getting better, so please don't push yourself if you aren't feeling well."

He said it all with such a gentle tone that you couldn't help but comply, and you could see the relief in his eyes when you do.

And that's how you found yourself curled up on the couch with a magazine you hadn't picked up in a long time open in your lap while as you watch your husband doing chores around the house

True to his word he had handled everything, from the vacuuming and dusting to the cooking and organizing, you had never thought you'd see your husband performing your duties as a housewife but he seems... relaxed in a way, content almost

He checks on you frequently throughout the day, perhaps too much, asking if you're comfortable and if there is anything you want him to do constantly, and even if you insist your fine he always knows

Often he would stop by to refill your tea and bring you snacks he made himself before you ask, even draping a blanket over your shoulders when he noticed the weather growing colder

He enjoys taking care of you, that much is obvious and you know that very well, but as you watch him you can't help but notice just how much he worries, no, perhaps that's not the right word for it, it's more akin to fear, not of you but for you

You see the way he tries to make the house perfect, predictable, safe. Double checking everything in your immediate vicinity under the guise of cleaning, appliances, locks, rugs, as if believing that if the house is safe then you will be safe

And the hovering, he thinks you don't notice but you do, he's never far from you for long if at all, your house isn't that big but the amount of times he passed by you is ridiculous, and you could always feel his eyes on you even if you pretend otherwise

Maybe it's overbearing, maybe you should feel annoyed or something, but you don't, because whenever you meet his eyes you could see the utter desperate terror in them, you feel it every time he touches you like he's reaffirming you're actually there

And you see just how fragile his supposed steadiness is, he never panics outwardly, that's not who he is, but you can read him well enough to know that it's always present just under his skin, driving his every action while he desperately hides it to not worry you

It only calms in your presence, only when he sees you comfortable, safe, breathing can he let himself relax just for a moment, smiling whenever he notices you looking at him

It's... Sad? Concerning? Sweet? you aren't sure how to describe it, but it makes your heart both flutter and ache at the same time, and as you watch him adjust the curtains so the light from the low sun won't bother you, you decide to finally do something

"Charlie?" You called softly as you put aside the magazine that you have not read a word of since sitting down

He perked up almost instantaneously, his head immediately snapping in your direction like a dog responding to a whistle. His smile is automatic as his whole body fully turned to you, "Yes, darling? Is there anything you need?"

"Come here."

And he does without another moment, at your side within seconds while his eyes scan you and your surroundings, glancing at your empty teacup and snack plate then at the blanket you had pulled close because of the air growing colder as the day nears it's end, but those aren't what you want from him

"Sit with me? Just for a while?" You pat the couch cushion beside you, looking up at him with a soft but expectant gaze

His face immediately softens more than it already has, his smile tender and his eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners, "Of course."

He sat down next to you, much closer than necessary but you don't complain

Instead you lean against him, resting your head against his shoulder and feeling him go completely still for a moment before immediately wrapping an arm around you the next moment, like he always does now

You feel his body slowly relaxing as he gently shifted his position to make you more comfortable, finding yourself closed in the warmth of his embrace

Yet you could feel some of the tension still lingering in the way he holds you so, so carefully like he's afraid he might break you but also like the world would snatch you away at any moment if he lets his guard down

Slowly, you shift in his arms, closing whatever space there still was between you and wrapping your arms around his torso as you rest your head on his chest

"Just relax, Charlie." You murmured, feeling the thumps of his heart speeding up just a bit as he pulls you tighter against him, "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, I'm staying right here with you."

"Do... Do you really mean that?" His voice was so quiet you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close, his normally steady tone faltering just slightly

You only squeezed him tighter, "Yes, I do. I know everything's... Hard right now for both of us, but you don't have to watch me all the time, I'll be okay, I promise."

He goes quiet for a moment, completely still in your embrace as you just continue to hold him tightly but his grip remains firm even if you could feel his hands trembling slightly

Then, in one sudden, desperate second, he pulled you flush against him and buried his face in your hair. He breathed in your scent almost desperately as he held you in a viselike grip, pressing you against him tightly like you might disappear any moment

You could feel his body shake as he buried his face deeper into your hair, trying to drown himself in the smell of your perfume, in the warmth of your body against his, in the steady rhythm of your still beating heart, reassuring himself that you're still here and breathing

Despite your initial surprise, you recovered quickly, squeezing him as tightly as you can and gently rubbing circles on his back, "Hey, it's alright, everything is okay."

"No, it's not okay," he murmured into your hair, his grip tightening yet still somehow staying gentle, "I can't stop thinking about that day and... And how... Easily I could've lost you, how if I had just been a second too late you would've... Would've..."

He inhales sharply, trying to keep his composure intact in front of you, "I should've noticed sooner, I should've been there instead of leaving you alone like that for such a long time. I was a horrible husband and I caused you to almost-"

"Charles."

The firmness in your voice and the feeling of your warm hands on his face snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, almost automatically he nuzzled into your soft palms before looking down at you, having pushed yourself slightly back from where you were pressed against his chest but making no attempt of getting out of his arms

"You were not a horrible husband" You said sternly, holding his face and forcing him to look you in the eye, to see your sincerity, "Yes, you had deeply hurt me but you didn't intend to. I forgive you, Charlie, I truly do."

He doesn't respond for a while, only staring at you with a mix of emotions you can't read storming in his eyes, "... You shouldn't, I haven't earned that yet."

"Yes, you have, you've been earning it every single day. Don't think I don't see how hard you're trying, how you learned to cook just to make me my favorite foods, how you secretly clean up after me when I'm tired, you even turned down that promotion you had wanted for me."

"I..." He doesn't know what to say, not in the face of your certainty, not while seeing that pure love in your eyes, "I still should've seen you suffering alone..."

"Maybe," you admitted, gently caressing his face with your thumb, "But what matters is now and I think you're being the best husband I could ask ever for so far."

He doesn't say anything, only looking down at you with such tenderness in his soft eyes while he slightly tilted his head into your palms before he closed his eyes like he's savoring the moment, a shaky breath escaping him as he places a hand on top of yours

"It's okay, Charlie," you murmur, feeling the lightest you have ever felt in weeks, the persistent weight of the exhaustion and hopelessness easing, not completely but ever so slowly getting there, "We're going to be okay."

You both stay like that for a long time, intertwined on the couch as the sun begins to set through the window and dusk starts to cover the sky, but neither of you notice, forgetting about the rest of the world as both of you just silently take in each other's warmth and love

When he opens his eyes again the steady softness is back but now there's resolve in there as well, an unshakable promise to you and to himself, "I don't deserve you, I never have, but I won't make the same mistake again."

"I'll never let you slip away like that ever again, I'll take care of you this time," his tone is soft as ever but there was an intensity underneath, a dark certainty edging into the sweet words

But you aren't given time to dwell on it before he leaned down and placed a quick, chaste kiss on your lips, somehow feeling almost desperate and gentle at the same time "I love you, my darling."

"I love you too, Charlie," you said softly as your cheeks reddened just a bit, thinking that maybe it was simply your tired mind playing tricks on you again but was it?

You shook that thought away, no, just your imagination, before you finally realize how late it had gotten, the sun having already set completely and night settling on to the quiet suburbia

"Oh dear, I better start on supper before it gets too late," he said as he moved to get up but stopping when you do as well, "Ah, darling, please sit down, I'll handle it."

You only smile at him, taking the blanket off your shoulders and neatly folding it on the couch before straightening your dress, "nonsense, It'll be quicker if it's the two of us after all."

"But-"

"No, buts!" You dramatically shush him before gently pulling him to his feet from the couch, "Come on, I know how much you like it when we cook together, and my legs were cramping from sitting down the whole day."

He huffed as a fond smile formed on his face, letting you pull him up and lead him to the kitchen, your fingers intertwining automatically, "Alright, alright, whatever my darling wants."

And as you smile so brightly for the first time in weeks, you don't notice the way his expression morphs into something almost completely lovesick as he stared at you in near disbelief, engraving that beautiful smile into his mind

He'll take care of you, and he'll make sure you never slip through his grasp ever again, never let that smile fade again. He doesn't deserve you but you chose him and he will make sure you never regret it, no matter what

Ophelia often dismissed you despite your constant concern of her well being. You knew she was a vampire and a mistress of the night, but she consistently put herself in danger. You once loved Ophelia, yet you knew she was straight. It would be rude to impose your feelings on your mistress when she only held distaste for you. Especially since you were nothing more than a servant to Ophelia.

Whether it was to hunt for food or to bring some random man back to her manor, you always had to clean up the mess. It started to get on your nerves since you were still new to being a vampire yourself… yet you had no interest in drinking human blood. Not like Ophelia did.

“Your cleaning skills are subpar. Can’t you do it any better?” Ophelia nagged you as she kicked over your mop bucket with her black winkle wickers. You sighed, hours of work now ruined in mere seconds.

“My lady, I was simply on the first round of mopping. This quite difficult to remove old blood from the walls and floor.”

“Then find a better way to do it. I need to fetch my next victim soon and I don’t want them to see this mess.” Ophelia gestured to you and the filthy floor. “If you have any complaints, you can simply leave.”

You bowed your head and frowned. No matter how kind you were to your mistress or how you did your best to meet her demands, it was never enough. You were never enough.

“Apologies, I’ll keep cleaning.” You went back to scrubbing the walls and floor. You couldn’t let her rudeness get to you… not until you found a new master at least. Ophelia would be hosting a vampire ball by the end of the week so you may have your chance to flee then?

Ophelia studied your form before she smiled. You never complained no matter how rude she was to you, it was a trait she adored about you. She wished every servant was like you. It would make her life less stressful then… except she knew you were her favorite. You always dutifully fulfilled your every command in a timely manner… Ophelia was positive you’d always stay by her side. Why would you ever leave your mistress? She made you.

Ophelia had brought yet another man home and quickly whisked him up to her room without sparing you a glance. You shook your head at her antics before you decided to explore the manor’s garden to tend to. Despite now being a creature of the night, you still retained your love for gardening. It was just a shame you could never see the flowers under the sunlight again…

Ophelia on the other hand, couldn’t even get past kissing with this man. He was just like all the others before him… no matter what she did, it felt wrong. Being with men made her feel sick to her stomach and the vampiress didn’t understand why.

All her life, her parents told her she’d find a man one day and she could turn him into a vampire to be with her… yet all of them were subpar. Their genitalia disgusted her and they were far too hairy for her. Everything about men was gross other than their blood. That’s all they seemed to be good for…

Ophelia wiped her mouth from yet another messy meal, the vampiress made her way to her balcony to study her night garden. And that’s when she spotted you. What were you doing down there?

Ophelia studied your form as you trimmed up some of the bushes and tended to the flowers. You were so soft looking compared to the men. Soft and delicate like the petals of the roses below… forever young and beautiful thanks to Ophelia. You’d never have to age or worry about sickness. In Ophelia’s mind, she saved you. Yet why did you always look so sad? Was her company not enough for you?

Ophelia rested her arms on her balcony, her red eyes scanned your sullen form in thought. She wondered if her night would be different if it was you beneath her and not the many men she’s brought to her room. If your skin was as soft as it looked… if you were sensitive and lovely- no!

Ophelia shook her head and pushed herself from the balcony in haste. The vampiress ran a pale hand through her Snow White locks in horror. Why would she think of you in such a way? You were another woman… you weren’t a man. You were soft and sweet like fruit but she couldn’t have you. She couldn’t sleep with you because you were a woman. And Ophelia wasn’t a lesbian… she couldn’t be. She had to produce a pure blood vampire, it was her destiny.

Yet her impure thoughts said otherwise. Ophelia knew the truth deep down… she loved you. It’s why she was so mean to you. It was to try to scare you away.

When the ball came around, Ophelia’s breath hitched when she spotted you in your dress. How could someone look so lovely? If she still had a beating heart, she was sure it would burst

Ophelia did her best to ignore you at the ball but her eyes often shifted to you as you danced with other vampires… how could you dance so carefree with other women? Didn’t you feel shame like she did?

It was when Ophelia hung out with a young couple of pure blood vampires that she questioned herself. This couple consisted of two women? Two female vampires could be together? It was okay to be… she had no idea she could make that choice.

Ophelia felt tears gather in her eyes as the two pure bloods reassure her that it was okay to like other women. That they were immortal creatures who could do whatever they pleased.

And that was all it took for Ophelia to go running after you. The vampiress had to confess, she had to tell you how she felt-

Ophelia nearly fell to the floor when she saw you kissing another vampiress. Her dead heart dropped to her feet in shock when you ran your fingers through the other woman’s black locks. You… you were hers. You were her servant and no one else’s!

Ophelia wanted to kill this vampire you touched! How dare she touch you when you were her property! You cannot be with anyone other than Ophelia, herself!

Ophelia rushed forward and separated you from the other vampire. Her breathing ragged and her white hair in disarray. “I am in need of your assistance this instant. You do not have time to fraternize with the other candies here.”

You can’t even protest as Ophelia dragged you away by your arm. You’re speechless when Ophelia dragged you up the stairs towards her room.

“Mistress-“ You’re suddenly thrown to her bed, unable to scramble away since Ophelia lunged at you.

“I hate you…” Ophelia cried. “I hate how you make me feel. How I can’t get you out of my mind.”

“Mistress-“ Ophelia pressed her lips against yours with fervency. Her hands hungrily grasped at your flesh. You’re absolutely gobsmacked at this transgression. What?

Duchess Frances and Duke William Monroe had always fought over toys and trinkets since they were young. These small squabbles never ended, even when they reached adulthood. Especially when they both had their sights set on you, the pretty little maid. Both siblings were incredibly competitive over you, their sweet, oblivious maid.

You had been with them since they were children since you were the daughter of a maid. And once you were a teen, you worked for the family too… and those two siblings made your life a living hell. You had no idea that they did such awful acts upon you for your utmost attention rather than sadistic pleasure, but how were you to know the truth? They merely learned love through what they observed between their cold parents.

Frances used to cut your hair without your permission and stuff the remnants into a tin under he bed, while William had a much stranger habit. He enjoyed keeping your dirty socks. They were both so strange to you as the years went on. What started at childish bullying turned into a strange dynamic they had with no other house servant.

When adulthood finally came, Frances Monroe became a diva. Unlike her war commander brother, who threw elaborate parties and had gaggles of women dancing on his arms, she’d flaunt her furs and jewelry amongst the party guests. And she made you, her maid, do her hair and makeup multiple times a day just so she could have your hands on her. Frances adored the attention she recieved from other women, but didn’t like the attention of men… the socialite didn’t quite understand why, but she gravitated towards you. You were the only one who indulged her every command and it made her feel special. Even though Frances failed to realize you didn’t quite have a choice.

Your hands were constantly making finger waves in her French bob. You swore your hands were in the permanent shape of the comb and your hands smelled constantly of sugar water. Yet Frances was never satisfied.

“Redo it. You can’t possibly think this hairstyle is acceptable for my party guests.” She’d tell you each time despite how good the hair looked. This was all to have your constant attention… and to keep you away from her older brother, William.

When you finally had free time, you’d be hounded by William who wanted you to fetch him all kinds of assortments. Whether it was drinks or snacks, he’d ask for them in bountiful amounts. Yet that wasn’t the worst part, the worst part was when William had you feed him and it was always a show.

William would beckon you over like a dog in front of so many people before he’d have you nearly straddling his lap to hand-feed him an appetizer or an olive from his martini. His blue eyes would be half lidded and dazed… like you were yet another woman he wanted as a conquest. It made you sick.

You hated those two spoiled brats. The hours you worked as a servant were so long and demanding and the pay? It was so low, you almost felt like a pet rather than a worker. You worked multiple jobs since the Monroes' cutback on servants in the manor. There were hardly any male servants due to the ongoing war… and you knew it was only a matter of time before one of the few men left in this house might try to put their hands on you. You had heard stories from other maids… and you had no interest in being a bed warmer and ultimately, known as a trollop it’s why you’ve been saving most of your checks. You needed enough for a ticket to sail across the Atlantic to America… maybe you’d find a better life in New York than working for this awful Duchy.

You sat up as you went to the hidden hole you had hidden under your mattress where you kept a metal tin full of shillings. You had about £14 that you’ve collected over three years. It’d be enough for a boat ticket… You only made about that much a year as a parlor maid. Which was more than what you made years ago. You were grateful for the meager pay rise because you were that much closer to freedom. You packed your tin back where it was before you made sure it was secure once more. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover this… you had been talking to a sailor for a few months now on getting on the hair and he promised you a spot if you ever truly needed it. You took great advantage of your looks to get what you wanted. And you were hopeful that he’d keep his word.

The days went on and you noticed William began to seek you out more and more. Whether it be to ask you to fetch him a beverage or to stand as close as possible beside you while you dusted. It unnerved you how he looked at you, yet the older maids could do nothing to help you.

“I’ll be going to war soon,” William told you softly. His blue eyes filled with longing. “…meet me in my room tonight.”

Frances angrily stormed into the room when one of the maids let it slip that William asked you that request. Her blue eyes were narrowed as her pin curls were still pinned to her head since she had waited all morning for you, specifically, to come to her room to take them out despite her having a personal maid.

“How dare you indulge my brother! You are to be at my beck and call, not his!” She huffed in annoyance, her pale cheeks flushed red. “I’m far better company than that sheik! Look at my hair! I need you to fix it.”

You obediently followed her to her room as she practically dragged you. Frances complained the entire time as you fixed her blonde bob for her. The socialite was leaning into your hands the whole time which made your job even more difficult. If only you looked up to see the dazed expression on her face, then you’d know how Frances really felt. Frances felt the feelings for you that a man would feel for a woman and that really upset her. Because Frances knew she could never truly have you. She’d have to marry a nobleman one day. Unless… She took you back with her.

It rained that night, but you quietly went to William’s room as he asked. You didn’t want to upset him since William had a worse temper than Frances, herself.

He was quick to wave you over to him as he sat in his chair. His blue eyes studied your form in an emotion you could only describe as reverence. Which was odd since he was a known ladies' man. Yet you never truly looked into whether or not he genuinely joined those ladies in his room. He was just a privileged elite in your eyes anyways.

“You’ve grown so beautiful.” William quietly told you, and his hand went to grab yours. His grip was as tight as the coils of a snake around its prey. “It’s not fair that my sister keeps you all to herself.”

The moment he went to try to pull you into his lap, you quickly tried to push away from him. His blue eyes widened before they became half-lidded. Did you enjoy teasing him? How naughty…

“I’m sorry, my lord. I hadn’t meant to offend you-“ William chuckled as he continued to let his hands roam your body. He had been holding back for so long but no other woman could get him quite as worked up as you did.

“Nonsense. I’m finally able to appreciate you and your beautiful body now that my father isn’t here. Do you know how hard it was to keep all the men away from you all these years? I didn’t want another man to ever touch you, sweetheart.” William smiled. “I’ve been carrying a torch for you for years and now I finally get to touch you.”

The moment he went to pull you in for a kiss, you shoved him before you fled. The Duke hardly had time to register what had just happened before he gave chase. If you glanced back, you would have see the expression of pure panic on his face. William had thought you liked him too… You had never lashed out like this before!

“Wait! Please-“

But you rushed into your room and took out that little tin full of money from under your mattress before you fled down the staircase. A few servants merely gave you a glance at first until they saw the young master chasing you. The room soon descended into pandemonium, which of course attracted Frances to exit her room in shock. Her blue eyes widened when she saw you rushing out the door in only your maid uniform and your little, metal tin.

“Wait! Where are you going?!” Frances soon descended the stairs as well, yet she wasn’t quick enough. You were out that door. Both siblings screamed for you over and over again, but you drowned them out.