Just One Something
Pairing: Titus Danforth x fem reader Word count: 5K Warnings: not proofread, set before the Ready or Not films, mentions of parent's death, references (not graphic) to some weapons and canonical hunts and violence, some coarse language, the bricks are being laid for the arranged marriage trope and maybe yearning? Maybe didn't pull that off very well. There aren't physical feature descriptions for reader. A/N: Prepare to read absolute garbage! First time writing for Titus and I was half asleep while writing some of this. Planned/potential first part of a series, what do you think? Would love to hear your thoughts, comments and reblogs are always appreciated and I'm about to hopefully sleep but I am quite nervous to post this. Thank you for reading! 🫶 Dividers: @strangergraphics thank you!
Your family had been entangled in Mr Le Bail’s embrace for generations, not as established as the favoured Danforths but not fresh blood like the El Caidos. A comfortable couple of centuries is how your father would describe it, but his eye was always on how more power could be attained and how each foot could be manipulated for the most advantageous next steps. After years of slinking away from conversations and trying to remove yourself from the equation as much as you could, you saw how your father would do anything to gain Chester Danforth’s favour. But who wouldn’t? With the high seat ring always on his finger and the surname he’d carried, he was not a man anyone could say no to.
You sat in a stairwell with your brother in the East wing of your family’s estate. The steps between you meant his eyes could catch the comings and goings of any of the upper floor levels and your ears with the lower levels, despite how quiet this wing was. A hiding spot for secret conversations that you two could always meet at since being children. Whether to cry over your mother’s death or childish schemes for more sweets.
You sat with your legs criss crossed as you thought. You didn’t know how to tell him what was breaking your heart. You’re sure that he had a feeling from the way you were avoiding his eyes and fidgeting with your fingers, hyperfixated on the ringless one that would taunt you.
“Mike.” You rubbed your temple as if applying enough pressure might relieve the ache and fix everything. Your brother nodded, having immediately known this was to do with your partner, now ex. “We were meant to go away next week and he was making a big deal of it and then…There was a ring in the dresser.” You say sadly as you look down at your hands, nervously twisting and squeezing your own fingers to try and distract from the pain thrumming in your chest cavity.
That same finger was still teasing you as your composure was slipping with each quickening breath. You both knew what the weight of a marriage meant in your world, how easily a fairytale can become a satanic slasher. A part of you had hoped you could dance around ever having to be in a position where this would become your reality. Ignorance was bliss. Any spouse could easily land up as the prey of a fatal hunt, it didn’t happen to everyone but it was a risk you could not take. You could not put another soul in this position, especially one you were in love with.
“I can’t just say ‘hey! I can’t marry you because actually, my family’s wealth and empire is part of this Satanic cult and if we get married, we might have to hunt you!’” Hot tears started to prickle your waterline and burn your cheeks. His face fell as he watched you, he looked up at the stairs and then down back at you. “I pretended I hadn’t seen it and broke up with him on Tuesday. It was devastating, his face… He knew I was lying, that there was something.” You let the tears fall and don’t bother hiding them from the one other person in your life who understands this mindfuck of a world.
“I’m so sorry…” Your brother says your name gently as he watches you with a thoughtful but kind gaze. “It’s fucked.”
“I know and I’m only the spare.” You sigh and rub your face, your breathing is evening out a little more and you try to inject some humour into this shitshow of a world.
“Yeah, well unfortunately, I don’t think you’d like to trade.” Your brother replied as he looked down, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. A habit he kept hidden except for on his lonesome or when with his sister. He was a fidgeter, a habit that the father you shared would always pointedly sigh over. Despite the tease that the words should hold, his words were earnest.
He was the heir and you were the spare. Those descriptions were accurate and more beneficial for your father anyway, since it would be assumed that you’d potentially “marry out”. But it meant there was a different kind of pressure on both of you, another thing that you were expected to carry with little say in the matter.
You paused, rubbing your temples and trying to apply pressure. “No, you’re right. I’d rather just have a whole new solution instead."
“There is one.” Your brother said with a sigh, rubbing his face. He hated himself for the words that were about to leave his mouth. “If you marry into another family in the Council, there’s no hunt. No hunt for either of you.”
As those words settle into your ears, you still as it feels like the very air in your lungs right then and there disappears.
~ One Year Later ~
The Danforth estate was as sprawling as you’d expect for a name that had centuries of wealth and luck carrying it through generations. There was a meeting of the Council, your father would be present as your family’s representative, you and your brother’s presence there was mainly just to be a glorified guest in the country air and perfectly polished rooms. You’d been to this estate multiple times throughout your life, not enough to know it like the back of your hand but well enough to remember where at least a few of the rooms were.
Mainly the quiet ones. And that was all you were in the mood for. As soon as you’d be graced with the chance to escape for a few moments. You hated the Wilkinsons, they had a sliminess that made your skin crawl and wore putrid colognes that were an abrasive assault to your senses. There was no way in hell you were dealing with them and the rest of the energy that clung to these gatherings. You’d find your way into one eventually, once the bare minimum pleasantries were over.
As you stepped out of the car, you looked from your brother to the Danforths that were standing at the bottom of the steps waiting for all of the families to arrive. Chester wasn’t there, it was just his twins in their sunglasses and fake smiles. The look on Titus’s face became less bored as he looked at you, you stood next to your brother, a slight step behind your father. Your presence surprised both the twins but Titus almost smiled to himself at seeing you.
It had become a very not so subtle habit of yours to avoid any social interactions in the Le Bail organisation, filling your time with the more legal and conventional side of your family’s empire and an interest in music. One that had been nursed since you were young, and you would make a hobby of conveniently being away at the right time or slipping out of rooms. Titus viewed you as a spectre, a woman you could get a quick glimpse of in the corner of your eyes, appearing from nowhere in the least expected moments and then disappearing, floating out. An absence that weighed on you.
He couldn’t help but wonder why you were here, you looked decadent and his boredom was disappearing with each millisecond. He didn’t speak as Ursula and your father politely greeted each other, his gaze was thankfully camouflaged by his sunglasses as he watched you.
Ursula cleared her throat, speaking your name with her perfectly composed, chirpy smile that lacked any genuineness. “How nice to see you, it’s been awhile. Still playing with knives?”
Her tone came across as friendly enough. Referencing the fact that in the few hunts that you’d joined, being more than competent, a thought you never wanted to dwell on, you carried throwing knives. Small blades were always your weapons of choice and where most of the weapons training of your education had been devoted. The lack of space they took up spoke to Ursula as a representation of your lack of interest in the hunts and the duties given to those blessed in your circles.
You blinked, tilting your head to look at her with a tired but soft smile. It was all childish. “Why? Do you need to borrow one?” You adjusted your dress and pulled out a small sheathed throwing knife, holding it flat out in your hand as you offered it to her. Ursula was stunned at your reaction, she awkwardly took the knife as she watched you smooth your dress for a second and then link your arm with your brother’s and walk off, up the stairs to the estate. “They’re so fucking odd.” Ursula mutters under her breath as your family walks off into the doors, she places the knife in one of the many carefully concealed pockets of her overpriced blazer. But behind his tinted lenses, Titus’s eye softened as his mouth quickly turned up into a smug smirk at the boldest display he’d ever seen from you. A charmed and thoroughly pleased chuckle left his lips as he glanced at you over his shoulder for a second before smirking at his sister, struggling to piece her composure back together.
Not only a handsome brute, Titus Danforth was more observant than he was often given credit for. When the Danforth twins were taking their first steps, they were also being primed to become skilled hunters, observation was a key and necessary skill for that. Titus had a reputation but he was overlooked, his sister seen as the calmer, less impulsive half of the package that they were and the fact that the Council’s arrogance was too loud to really appreciate observation.
The Council was made up of several, loud families. Arrogance was key to having a seat at the fucked up table. It was part of why it was always so interesting seeing your family whenever there were gatherings. Like Chester, your father was a widower with two children, you weren’t a twin like he was though. Your brother was the more vocal one of you two, but you both were reserved. He’d felt a hum of amusement and curiosity when you’d all been younger and he’d seen the way your brother and you shared a look and a whisper for nobody else’s ears, you had a secret language just like him and Ursula. But you two were still different, he’d never seen you raise a hand to your brother like Ursula had to him and you didn’t tear each other down with words like his and Ursula’s competitive rapport, at least not publicly.
When there were cocktails being served in the evening before dinner, you’d stood off against a bookshelf silently, you and your brother a quiet observant pair like usual. He’d noticed something different though, your brother was standing with more tension winding his shoulders and jaw up more than usual. His own eyes locked in on those standing in the room. He didn’t bother hiding the way his eyes rolled at the Wilkinsons and exchanging a glance with you, your eyes looked wider than usual as you stood in the room. The choice of your dress made sense, the long black dress allowed you to slink in the shadows easier, but no matter what you wore, his eyes would find you in any silent room or pit of darkness. It was impressive that someone with such an adverse reaction to attention always captured him.
Titus watched your brother have a short conversation with Viran, one that you silently watched, your face twisted slightly to look like you might be biting the inside of your cheek as you watched. Your brother didn’t humour a conversation with the younger Rajan brother, Titus also found him annoying but he felt that way about most people. You only gave a polite nod and a small smile that never met your pretty eyes.
The only person your brother seemed less tense with was Daniel Le Domas, a man that Titus had no respect for, Titus thought that little of Daniel that he didn’t even despise him. His stomach twisted slightly as he watched you lean forward slightly and you whispered something to your brother and Daniel, your brother smiled wistfully and Daniel sipped from his glass that was never empty. He didn’t like the sight of you talking to Daniel, you seemed more comfortable around him than anyone else in the room that wasn’t your brother. Daniel was married, clearly unhappily, he made no efforts to hide that but Titus was confident that you weren’t the type to try a married man. He’d bet on it, it was his house and the house always wins.
Your brother was doing the bulk of the conversating, but they were all short conversations anyway. He had less patience than he usually did. Daniel Le Domas was disenchanted by all that had happened and was married, it was easier for you both to be around him. He wasn’t a candidate you’d have to judge and worry about for marriage. It was one of the unmarried men in this room that was the source of your curse and solution. You weren’t pleased with the choices and your brother was a fisherman desperately looking for the right catch.
You stood by your brother, carefully holding a glass that your lips had barely touched. “Alex?” You whispered after Daniel had stepped away for a bathroom break. Your mind was working quickly on any of the potential options.
Your brother quickly shook his head. “No.”
“He’s not really MIA,” you offer. Alex had left his family, taken a road rarely travelled by those with blood on their hands. You weren’t attracted to him but he’d always seemed nice enough and the fact he’d gone no contact with his family seemed like a green flag in this situation. Especially when you stood in the same room as his family, you couldn't imagine a soul on Earth enjoying the company of Helene Le Domas.
“No. He’s spineless, not kind. There’s a difference. You can’t trust someone like that.” You sighed and nodded at that, biting your lip. The pool of options for a marriage that didn’t ruin someone’s life was getting far too slim.
Something that you and your brother were in agreement over was that the Wilkinsons weren’t worth touching with a ten-metre long pole. The Le Domas family was officially ruled out, the only eligible bachelors left were Viraj Rajan and Titus Danforth. While whatever arrangement might happen would be a marriage of convenience, you tilted your head and pondered the thought, you struggled to see yourself married to either of them, even if it was a sham.
There was the possibility of marriage to another family associated with the organisation, but outside of the Council their status was significantly lower and would put yourself in a position to be used as a convenient ladder for some soulless sucker. Your brother had already laid out that a marriage was best with someone of a more equal footing, anyone else with a noticeable imbalance was too big of a risk and one you couldn’t trust.
“Viraj is intense and Madhu is unbearable, I couldn’t have that as a brother-in-law.” You whisper and your brother’s eyes travel around the room again.
“And the Danforths… In this situation, marrying Titus would either be the best or worst thing, no inbetween.” Your brother replied, he watched you for a moment as your forehead furrowed.
“I’m not Danforth material.” You answered honestly and he sipped his drink, a slight hum of agreement coming out as you both thought of the intense Danforths.
The Danforth twins had been summoned to their father’s study; it wasn’t a rare occurrence because of their status. But despite the smug smirks both Ursula and Titus were wearing, neither were clued in on what exactly it was that their father wanted to discuss this afternoon. Probably something to do with the next upcoming Council meeting, or to go over their plans for their next political deal.
Chester looked at his children carefully, he’d done everything he could to raise them to the highest of possibly achievable standards, he knew his children were better than the other families but he still saw a mass of flaws when he looked at them both.
“There’s still no heir, from either of you.” Chester spoke matter of factly, his calm, all knowing voice was starting to become a bit airier with age.
Ursula’s eyes widened slowly as she looked from her father to her brother and back. This was a conversation that always weighed heavily on the back of her mind, occasionally being ripped to the front and suffocating her in a way that none of the men in her family could understand. She almost wanted to flee whenever this happened, but she kept her calm composure, allowing herself a single blink to blink it away before the stone front was covering her.
The silent tells of Ursula’s discomfort and guilt were clear as day to Titus as he glanced at her, seeing her deer in headlights eyes before she could smother it away. This was something Titus knew would become a greater focus for the remainder of Chester’s life, a pressure to plague him for years. His eyes glanced at his sister’s again, the stone composure didn’t hide all from him, he knew this was the one thing she would abdicate without argument and it was to be demanded of him.
“Yes, we’re aware, father.” Titus said quietly as he watched him, he held his hands together calmly, not betraying a single emotion as he looked at the man that he’d idolised his whole life but had also a quiet resentment festering for the manipulation that had moulded him from the start to the man he now was.
Chester looked at Titus and frowned. “It’s taken generations for this power, the High seat is an intergenerational effort, it takes so much to build but the smallest of missteps to crumble. A single generation - or lack of - will ruin it all. That is something we cannot accept, I won’t be let down.”
“The High Seat won’t leave the family.” Ursula says as she steps closer. Titus frowns, it’s so Ursula to speak as if she is the one carrying the burden, finding the solution when she’s volunteering him up for the work she doesn’t want to do, the burden she quite literally will not carry.
Titus clenches his jaw as he watches his family silently. Does Ursula - controlling Ursula - know just how much power would be handed to Titus simply for this? And of course he’d have to do this the right way. He’d have to marry to satisfy his father’s need for the pristine reputation and Mr Le Bail’s requirements. He’s sure that his father already has a list typed up of candidates, his father had tried to raise marriage prospects with him in the past but Titus had done well for shrugging this off for awhile, he was bored easily and the faces he’d met on his father’s lists were never interesting to him.
“I’ll find someone.” Titus said as he watched his father, emphasising that he wanted this to be his choice. Not his father’s and certainly not Ursula’s. Maybe he’d humour their thoughts for a moment before shooting them down with a laugh. But if he was to have a wife he wanted one that was at least somewhat interesting.
It was muscle memory that led to you walking to a study that you remembered having entered a few times over the years. If this was another’s home, you like to think you wouldn’t be so bold, but the Danforth estate was so large and had countless studies, if it was even noticed in the first place, nobody would mind in the grand scheme of things.
The study had the same perfect bay window you remembered, there were only a few glimpses of sunlight left but it was still the spot you knew would be the most comforting. You sat down carefully, gently fixing the skirt of your dress that’s length reached your mid-calves. It was elegant and black, more simple than loud but that was your taste when it came to family business.
You looked at a few piles of books that sat near the bay window, touching them carefully as the spines were clearly aged, dust coating them and now your fingertips. One of them could surely entertain you well enough for a while as part of your plan to pass time. It was then that you heard the click of the doorknob turning as the door opened into the room, revealing Titus Danforth stepping in.
Titus had seen you walk into here, the first thing he notices when he steps in is your eyes that immediately look up to see him. You're surprised but you don’t look like a deer in headlights, nor a fox with its paw caught in a trap. There’s no fear or disgust on your face, just genuine surprise to have someone else step into this slice of a moment in time.
A Danforth walking into a study on the Danforth estate shouldn’t surprise you but it still does. “I’m sorry to have imposed, did you need the room?” You clear your throat after a moment and then ask politely.
“No.” Titus watched you, his smile growing slightly, he walked closer and then sat on the desk near the window and faced you. You bit your lip for a second to hold your tongue back from saying something, sitting on desks and tables was a habit you’d always hated. Titus noticed the bite but he didn’t know the reasoning, he still found it interesting. He wanted to learn every reaction and expression you were capable of, what would trigger them and what noise was elicited by what word or look.
His hazel eyes flicked down to the book next to your side, you felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as you looked down at the books you’d moved closer to peruse. You put them down, tidily moving them to the side, trying to wipe some of the dust off, more for the sake of a distraction than anything else.
“You’re on your own…” Titus said as his eyes moved from the dusty books to your eyes. They were mesmerising, the shape was what caught him and then the colour of your irises was the most enchanting hue he’d ever seen.
“Yes, I didn’t mean to snoop. I just like the quiet.” You look down, you find the quiet more comforting than the tense body language and pissing contests that took place whenever the families of the Council gathered. Cautious not to provoke, hyper aware that making yourself at home and sitting next to some dusty tomes in a study in these circles could be interpreted as something much less innocent.
After a quiet moment your gaze lifted and met him again, he was just watching you quietly, thoughtfully. It wasn’t something you’d expected to see before, his eyes were hard to decipher but you hadn’t noticed the wide, almost softness they also had. They were a pretty hazel colour, you give him a small smile.
“I know.” He said and then he took something out from his pocket, Titus took your hand at the same time, placing a small familiar blade into your hand that he’s holding now with both of his big hands. You look down, shock and embarrassment floods you at the unexpected gesture. The hilt catches your eyes, it’s one you’re more than familiar with, weighed and carved to perfection for throwing.
“Oh, thank you!” You chuckled quietly and then looked up at him. “Ursula didn’t need it after all? I’m surprised she didn’t return it herself.”
“She doesn’t know.” He shrugs with a slight smile that grows, his dark eyes twinkling. It was hard not to immediately light up at your reaction and your soft chuckle, it had a melodic ring to it that he could get used to.
Your eyes and mouth widen at the same time, you chuckled as the words land and are then absorbed. “Titus Danforth! You little pick pocket!” You laugh more, genuinely quite surprised at him doing something like that and then telling you, all over a small knife you didn’t really have any issue parting with. He felt a flutter in his stomach and a warmth flood through his pale freckled skin at the sight of glee on your face, a laugh he’d earnestly drawn out.
Titus looked down at your hand and nodded with a smile, then back at your eyes, committing the way your eyelashes fanned out to memory. He’d considered not returning the knife after he’d pocketed it from a clueless Ursula, he’d considered it seriously, keeping it for himself. The etchings and patterns on the sheath and hilt distinctly declared this as a knife belonging to your family, it would be a humourous memento that was undeniably yours. He’d wondered if you’d thrown this particular knife before, he assumed so, whether as part of training or in an actual hunt, he didn’t know. But he decided it was best to return it to you, especially with the fact that it would give him an easy opening to talk to you.
You were always so reserved at these things, you and your brother always sidestepping social interactions and ducking out of conversations as soon as you could. He’d noticed that your brother tended to speak more than you but that wasn’t saying much, and Titus knew in his gut that this dynamic wasn’t a guard dog watching over a delicate flower of a sister, but because you liked to observe and absorb. Titus knew you were better than the others, more interesting and that you wouldn’t say it to him right now, but you knew it too, in your own way. What Titus wouldn’t give to be able to see into your head and know what exactly it was that you thought.
Titus looked at you, he looked at your hands slightly for a moment. Hands that were soft except for where some calluses had likely formed from your musical gifts. “Do you still play?” Titus asked as he shifted a little closer, still holding your hands with the most gentle touch.
“Not as often.” You answered vaguely but truthfully.
“Hm.” He nodded, still holding your hand in his own, thinking it would be nice to keep his hand with yours for as long as possible. His touch surprised you but you wouldn’t allow yourself to say anything. “You look divine.” He says simply as his eyes go to your dress. Your eyes flick up to his face, the irises are such a pretty green, you know they’re technically hazel but there’s just so much green in them in this light.
“Thanks…” You whisper quietly and give him a small smile, tilting your head down to try and avoid the way you can feel your cheeks heat up, even if he can’t tell. It feels weird to be complimented when in these social circles but especially when it’s just the two of you. It makes it feel more real and less like the superficial compliments exchanged over drinks and handshakes with an audience.
He nods after a moment, still looking at your hand before looking back at you, his eyes looking less green for a moment as they soften and seem to grow. “I last saw you play two years ago, back in Berlin.”
It takes a moment for his words to really land and then your eyes widen quickly. Your cheeks heating up more as surprise swirls from your stomach to your head, straightening your back up the more you try to meet his eyes. “Really? I didn’t know…”
Titus shrugs as if it’s nothing. “I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see you… play.” There’s a silence that hums between you both, his thumb rubs a soft, light circle over your knuckles. It’s a surprisingly soft touch but you also can’t help the unease at the feeling, you feel a sense of embarrassment crawling up you at this oddly intimate moment. You never would’ve imagined Titus holding your hand as you two sat alone in a study, maybe it was an accident and Titus didn’t even realise he was still holding your hand.
When in reality, that was what was consuming him.
“I had piano lessons when I was younger, I didn’t really have the patience for it… To excel in a way like you do. Can you play that too?” He asks and you nod for a moment before speaking.
“Yes, it’s a good foundation.” You watch his eyes, Titus always has been someone with intense eye contact but his gaze seems more interested in your hand then meeting your eyes. It’s odd. It feels unnerving. Maybe it’s from admitting he didn’t immediately excel at something. You can imagine that easily being a sore topic for someone in the Danforth line and with what knowledge you know of his and Ursula’s upbringing.
“I’d like to hear you play again.” Titus spoke gently, repeating your name in a tone you’d never heard from his lips before, his thumb brushing over your hand again before he carefully let it go, his eyes looked over his shoulder and it almost pained him to not get to see your face, your hair, your lips for another second. He moved his hand away delicately and slowly, as if it was paper he was trying to keep dry in a rainstorm. Titus was not a quiet man but you watched his hand squeeze yours one last time before fully letting go, detaching completely and silently leaving you alone in the study.
