#I would like to point out the subtle tears in her eye to match the blood upon his face.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.1k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

The tray of food crashes to the floor at her feet. Salome gasps. Her hand shoots back, fumbling for the doorknob, and her lips part, ready to call the guard you know is just outside.

"If you call for the guard," you stop her, "I’ll cut deeper."

She clamps a hand over her mouth. "Please—stop! Hurting yourselves is a sin, a great dishonor to the body God gave you—"

“It is,” you agree calmly. You press the shard deeper into the cephalic vein, ignoring the bite of pain. Blood spills in a fresh, startling curtain down your arm, the wound mimicking the severity of an arterial cut. “And she’ll blame you for it. You’re the one she entrusted to watch over us, and you didn't notice we broke one of the mugs."

"I did not think you would—"

"What happens to you,” you cut her off, pointing the bloody shard at her stomach, “—and your baby when the two new child-bearers die because of your failure? Because I will die, if I cut any deeper. This artery,” you lie, tapping the wound for emphasis, “is important. If I finish slicing through it, I’ll bleed out in less than a minute. Not enough time for you to get help. Not even enough to try saving me yourself.”

Her lashes flutter rapidly through a swell of tears. "You could have a good life here—"

"Answer me. What happens to you if I die?"

She swallows hard. "She’ll punish me," she whispers frightfully. "I have seen what happens to those who fail her. She might take my child and I will... never see them. Please, don’t do this—”

"Why should we care about you and your child when you are okay with them killing an eleven-year-old girl tomorrow?"

A flash of shame crosses her face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't know Maman would want the girl. The offering has never been so young before. But it is God's will, there is nothing I can do to—"

"What you can do is open the cell. Open it and we will kill Maman, then you won't have to worry about anyone taking your baby. But if you don't open it, then we die in here and you will face her punishment."

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She looks between you and Nereida, eyes darting wildly, fingers twitching against her stomach. 

"Decide before I bleed out!"

"I... I can't," she says pitifully.

With a glance at Nereida, she takes her cue, digging into her vein.

"Open the cell," Nereida urges far more soothingly than you can, blood dripping to her elbow. "We won't hurt you. We want Maman gone, not you."

Salome whimpers under her breath, but her fingers move before her mind catches up, reaching inside her robe to retrieve the key, gripping it like it might burn her. She shuffles closer but pauses, inhaling deeply before finally reaching the door. Her hands shake so violently that the key rattles against the lock. It slips against the metal, failing to match the hole, and your finger twitches when she nearly drops it.

"Mais si elles ne parviennent pas à la tuer..." The whisper leaves quietly, lost beneath the veil. "Sa punition pour moi sera pire."

Then, her hand curls back around the key.

She swallows hard—and steps back.

No. 

You see red.

A growl curls at your mouth and you snap forward, grabbing onto her dress through the bars before she can retreat too far, and pulling her flush against them, her forehead banging into the metal. Before she can scream, you clamp a bloody hand over her mouth and then press the piece of broken mug to her neck with just enough pressure to make her panic. She gasps into your palm, struggling. You dig it harder, forcing her body to turn still and rigid.

"Twix—"

"I tried doing things the nicer way," you speak in a low snarl, veering off the script you and Nereida conjured. Round, glossy eyes stare into yours. "You should have made up your mind before getting within my reach. Now give her the key. I’d hate for my hand to slip."

Another sharp press into her skin wrings a squeak from her, her breath coming out jagged and uneven against your palm. Trembling, she extends an arm through the bars, offering the key to Nereida.

The moment Nereida takes it, she fumbles to find the lock from the outside, her fingers searching blindly. The key scrapes against the metal—once, twice—before a soft click finally reaches your ears.

The door swings open.

You don’t hesitate. Keeping your grip firm over Salome’s mouth, you shove through the opening and swing around to the other side. Before she can react, you force her back into the cell, driving her onto the bed. The veil tears free from her head as you pin her down, your weight pressing her into the mattress, the sharp fragment still poised at her throat. When her legs begin to flail helplessly, you order Nereida to grab them. She clasps Salome's ankles to keep her from bucking you off.

"You were afraid of the wrong person," you hiss, your nose nearly brushing hers. "Maman may have spared your life because she values her baby makers—but I don’t. Answer everything I ask, or I’ll show you just how merciless I can be."

The dishonest threat rolls off your tongue with enough force to make her nod frantically, fear widening her eyes. But what she doesn’t need to know—what you won’t let her see—is the part of you still holding back. Because even now, even as you pin her down and press the shard to a vital piece of her throat, you’re careful. You don’t dig hard enough to damage. You don’t let your weight bear down on the swell of her stomach.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I am going to lift my hand, and you're not going to scream. You're going to tell me everything we need to know about the guards out there."

Her lips are puffy and raw when you set them free. 

"There is only one outside the d-door," she sputters in a whisper. "B-but there are more... more by the... h-homes and the keep."

"The keep?"

"Where they keep the new m-males," she chokes out, snot dripping from her nose.

"That's in the old slaughterhouse, right?"

She nods.

"How many guards are over there exactly?"

"I do not know." At your glare, she rushes out, "B-but there are less after d-dinner ends. Many go to sleep, and switch shifts at sunrise."

You mull over the information, eyes darting across her face. “And the child—the offering? Where is Maman keeping her?”

A terrible look of fear ripples through her eyes. "Only few are allowed near the offering b-before her ascension. 

"So you're telling me you don't know?" you seethe in her face.

She sobs. "I know they... they will offer her to the démons right before the sun rises. The night is when God’s wrath is strongest, but it’s in the morning—when hope ascends—that we seek atonement."

Despite further pressing, that seems to be the extent of what she knows—or she's still withholding. Either way, you're satisfied enough. You rip strips of the sheet, using one to gag her and two more to bind her wrists and ankles. You and Nereida wrap your wounded wrists tightly to stop the flow. Then, you remove her white gown. You’ll need something to wear that doesn't easily mark you as an escapee, but there’s only the one white dress and veil. You hurriedly slip into them, making sure all of your hair and face is hidden, leaving Nereida still in the thin slip. The shoes Salome wears are thin and made of unsupported leather, but they are all you have to tuck your bare feet into.

Salome said there will be fewer guards after dinner. You and Nereida listen carefully to every sound that bleeds through the window. When you hear a few exchanges of bonne nuit, you figure people are starting to retire for the night. You take this as your cue to grip your makeshift weapon. The guard outside the door is expecting Salome to leave at some point, giving you the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard while dressed as her.

You quietly open the door to the warm summer night, the long gown ghosting around your ankles. As expected, a well-built man leans against the side of the building, arms crossed languidly. No one else is in sight, which brings you some relief. When his gaze shifts to you, he raises a brow.

"Tout va bien, mademoiselle? Vous êtes restée là-dedans un moment."

The last word barely makes it out of his mouth. Within a heartbeat, you spring at him like the head of a snake, one hand over his mouth and the other stabbing his neck with the shard, then sweeping it through the thick of his trachea. A gush of blood oozes out in one thick stream, before he gargles out a strangled choke and turns to dead weight against the wall. 

With Nereida's help, you quickly push his body inside the building to keep anyone from spotting it. 

"Wear this," you usher, already starting to undress him. Like the man who visited you, he's wearing a grey cloak. Though it's too big for her, and bloodied, it will be enough to keep her discreet in the dark, her long hair safely tucked beneath the hood.

Two things race through your mind: the ticking time toward sunrise and the fact that you still don’t know how many more men you’ll have to take out to reach Ghost, Price, and Kyle. The knife you find on the guard adds a small weapon to your shitty arsenal. You have no idea where they could’ve stored the guns and ammo they took from you, or your bow. How you'll manage to fight through a community of cultists without those is a worry you can’t afford to dwell on right now—one step at a time.

After a few minutes of collecting yourselves, urgency pulls the two of you outside, free from the barred enclosure for the first time in almost four days. In the blanket of night, you quickly scan the area, taking in what you’re up against. The community appears fairly spread out, with only six small farmhouses like the one you just escaped from, along with a few larger structures in the near distance—likely where they house the men. You catch a glimpse of a fenced pasture’s perimeter and the unmistakable stench of cattle fills the air. Despite the faint shuffle of hooves and grey plumes of smoke from a few of the chimneys, everything is eerily still, leaving an unnerving amount of quiet for your heart to shatter through.

From what you can see, there aren’t many places to hide Blue, but there could be more to this place beyond what’s visible, especially since the chapel you first saw is nowhere in sight. But none of that matters right now; you need to find the others first if you’re going to have any real chance of saving her and getting out of here.

The next male you encounter spots you first as you make your way up the gravel road towards the barn, the sound of his boots making your hand tighten on the knife's handle. He greets you unassumingly in French, causing Nereida to startle beside you as his shadow approaches. Then he stops in front of her, his shoulders tensing and his hand hovering near a knife at his waist.

"Que fais-tu avec la femelle? C’est interdit!"

Again, you go for the throat, desperate to silence any screams that could cause alarm. You get a good swipe at the base of it, but he is at least a head taller than you, making it difficult to stab fully. He grabs you by the waist, clearly in shock that a veiled female just sprung on him with a knife, but swipes a fist at your face nonetheless. The force spreads through your temple, thrusting your head to the side. 

"Take the knife from him," you hiss at Nereida through the pain, who until now was effectively frozen. She finally moves, using the distraction you've caused as he clutches his bleeding neck, and snatches the knife still hanging at his waist. Once she has it, you leap at the disarmed man again, this time stabbing his liver. With a muffled grown, he face-plants into the gravel, quickly soaking it with blood. 

"The body," she stutters worriedly. "We need to hide it."

You look around, spotting stacks of chopped wood.

"Over there. Help me drag him."

Once the body is heaved behind the logs, you pat him down in search for anything else, but there's nothing.

"Keep that on you," you tell her, and she gives a quick nod, hiding the knife under her sleeve.

You keep following the road up to the fence, your white dress splattered with crimson, resembling the dotted stars overhead. The 'keep' is somewhere by the barn that man said, but you notice smaller buildings to the right and to the left of it. Which one looks like an old slaughterhouse? It's too difficult to tell even when you squint, so you grab Nereida's arm and quickly lower by a bush.

"Watch that one, and I'll keep an eye on this one. Whichever building has more guards patrolling is probably where they're holding them."

"Okay," she whispers, peering around the bush.

Minutes pass. The building on the right has more shadows skirting around it—three guards total. You take a moment to study their movements. One is stationed near the back, the other two at the front.

"I want you to take the one at the back and wait for me. I'll handle the other two."

"How do I take him?" she whispers uncertainly. "He’ll see me coming."

"You’ll come at it from an angle." You point toward a stack of hay. "Sneak over there, quietly. Once you're behind it, circle around and approach where he can't see."

She hesitates, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. "I’ve never—"

"Never killed anyone?" 

The way she grips the knife, her fingers white on the handle, confirms it.

"These people deserve it, Nereida," you say, forcing her to meet your gaze. "John is in there."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of it all presses down on her. When she opens them again, her jaw is set, and her grip on the knife tightens.

After reminding her where to strike, you pause for a moment, watching as she sneaks over to the hay. Then, you move toward the other two, slipping behind a tree for cover, but your foot catches on something and you almost trip, catching yourself against the bark. Your breath hitches and you steal a peek at them to make sure they didn't hear you. No—they are too busy murmuring to each other, laughing in a low exchange.

When you glance down, you spot a shovel half-buried into the ground, its handle sticking out. Carefully, you wriggle it free, having to grit your teeth to fully remove it. This will let you stun one while you deal with the other. Inhaling deeply to center yourself, palm tight over the splintered wood handle, you close in on the two guards.

The shorter one with curly hair spots you just before you take a swing, his eyes widening. The shovel slams into his skull, effectively making him stumble to the ground, but slips from your grip from the force. The other guard whirls around, hand slapping for the pistol at his belt. You deliver three consecutive stabs to his stomach, heart, and cheek. The gun never leaves his waist before he falls dead.

You suck in a gulp of air just as the curly-haired one regains his footing. His head is still heavy from the blow, and before he can draw his knife, you shove him in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. You pin him easily beneath you, his movements sluggish and weak. The two of you wrestle in the grass, jagged breaths mixing with frantic, scraping nails, until, with a snarl, your knife finds purchase in his neck, stealing the life from his eyes in an instant. You stab him again and again, shaking, until the ticking urgency pulls you back into control. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and wiggle the knife lodged in his trachea, your hands slippery with blood.

"You got death," you spit in a whisper, thumbing his lids shut.

You lift up.

Now you have a single gun.

It is an old thing. Outdated and far from the military-grade weapons Ghost has. It takes a moment to figure out the parts—your fingers fumble for the small magazine, which is stocked with three bullets. You pull the slide to chamber a round with a click and keep it ready in your hand as you circle the building toward the back, praying that Nereida managed. When you find her, she is stood over the man's body, a deep cut oozing on her cheek.

"He saw me," she says, swallowing. "But I did it."

You nod. "We need to hide them before we go in."

All three bodies are hidden behind the hay stacks. You cover them with manure to mask the smell, not wanting a horde of Greys to materialize. You'd spotted a door at the back and hope it may be more discreet then blazing in through the front, given that you don't know who all is in there. Finger ready on the trigger, you hold your breath as you lead Nereida into the old building, instantly met with the rich smell of pennies. The space quickly unfolds into an old butcher house, rusted hooks hanging from the stone ceiling, the air cramped and cold. 

"Une femme? Maman ne voudrait pas de toi—"

The voice echoes in your ear as you round the corner, and then a fiery bullet rips into the owner's chest. Nereida flinches. Another guard comes barreling over, shouting, but you slide the chamber and shoot him in the head.

You don't linger by the bodies, itching to check the first steel door you see. You lower the gun only to pull at the handle, but it won't budge.

"Check him for keys," you motion to the dead guard.

Nereida crouches, hands rifling through his pockets until she yanks free a ring of keys. Her fingers shake as she tries them one by one, the lock stubborn—until, at last, it gives. With a sharp tug, the door groans open, revealing a windowless chamber. In the center, a lone captive hangs from chains.

It’s Price. Shackles bite into his wrists, his bare chest mapped with deep bruises against pale skin. Beaten, but unbroken—his gaze sharp as it lifts to meet yours. Nereida chokes on a sob, ripping the hood off her head and sinking to her knees before him, cupping his jaw.

A weighted baritone manages: "Duchess."

"There is nowhere I will not find you," she croaks. Teary kisses find the corner of his mouth. "I'm here, I'm here."

"How did you—"

"We got out. Where are the others?" you ask.

His jaw grits. "I haven't seen them since they knocked us out."

"They must be here somewhere. We need to move quick before someone notices the bodies."

After finding the small key to undo the manacles, you leave them to each other for the moment, continuing down the hall until the next door. An undeniable pull rises in your chest, something that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rushing through you—something you can’t quite name. But when you open the door, your heart falters with unwelcome disappointment at the sight of Kyle. He looks equally battered, but still aware enough to lift his head as you step in.

"Who are you?" 

You lift the veil.

"It's me," you answer, the words almost lost in the rush of emotions. Only when you fully take in the room do you notice Ari, curled in the corner. They’ve put them in here together. While there are no obvious injuries on the boy, the sight of the open Bible on his lap, and the empty dinner plate beside him, sends a cold shiver down your spine. You touch his cheek, feeling warmth, and reassure him he’s safe.

You release both of them. "Price and Nereida are through the door down the left. I need to find Ghost. I’ll be back."

Kyle rubs his wrists and manages to stand despite his black eye and shaky legs. "I’ll come with you."

"No. I’ll get him." The words come out sharper than you mean to, but you turn away before he can question them.

You are pulled further through the tight, cold hallway, movements turning more hurried as you look around. There are a few more half-opened doors, but they only lead to supply closets filled with whips and metal batons and empty chambers where old blood stains the floors. Something sharp tugs at your heart, and for the first time since initiating your escape, your fingertips succumb to a tremor of fear. 

Where is he?

The hall spits out into a room where dried animal carcasses hang from the walls.

One final door sits on the far end.

The rusted lock resists, swears hissing from your lips—until a sharp kick forces it open.

The smell thickens with fresh blood, and a cold pit sinks into your stomach at the sight of him—bound in chains, his body slumped haphazardly. Unlike the others, he doesn’t lift his head. You rush forward, a shaky breath catching in your throat as you take in the blood caked on his shoulder blades, deep welts splitting through the inked skin. His back, too, is covered in wounds. He looks worse—so much worse—that a bite of anger swells moisture in your eyes.

"Simon, you idiot. What did you do?" The words slip out on a sharp inhale as you lower yourself in front of him. "Simon," you whisper again, silent tears hot against your lips. You thread a hand through his hair, tilting his jaw up with careful fingers. His eyes are heavy, but relief finds you when they flutter open. He’s alive. The reddened whites flicker over your face, unfocused—until something strange sharpens the haze. A flicker of fear.

"It's me, Simon. We're getting out of here."

The brief fear shifts into shock when he recognizes your face, and only after you fumble with the key ring does understanding click into place, causing his jaw to flex. "Where... where is she?"

"I don't know, but we need to hurry. They have her." You undo the manacles, and his body rolls heavily into you, face falling onto your collarbone. You struggle to hold him up, gripping his shoulders without touching the wounds. A low groan bleeds through his teeth, and his eyes flutter shut again. No, no, no. "Please, you have to... you have to get up, Simon. I can't—she's going to fucking die!"

His upper chest rapidly expands with a breath, and he musters the strength to lift his weight off you and slap a hand against the wall. As he leverages his weight up, you help by grabbing beneath his other arm, until a final rush of adrenaline gets him on his feet. Urgency snaps tension into his limp shoulders, and he growls out another, more steady, breath.

"Price," he says.

"He's alive. Come on."

It takes some effort to help him walk at first, but eventually, he manages on his own. You guide him to the first room, where the others are pacing, murmuring in low voices.

"Simon, Jesus," Price mutters when he sees him.

Ghost brushes it off, his eyes narrowing. "They're going to kill her."

"At sunrise," you add, your voice tight. You pull out the pistol and show it to them. "I have one bullet left. I don't know how many more men are in this cult, but we've killed six so far."

"We have one shitty old gun." Kyle growls in frustration. "They took all our shit. How are we going to—"

"We find the weapons. They must have stored them somewhere," Price says.

"We can't just go searching through every building here. We don't have the time," you press. "And how are we supposed to get it back without everyone noticing we're gone?"

"I don't give a fuck about the guns. We find her first," Ghost grits, nostrils flaring. 

"We can't help her if we don't think things through. We can't just start a war with these people empty-handed, Simon," Price says.

"We find her first!"

"Simon," you say, reaching for his arm, but he pulls it away, clenching his bloody fist. The energy radiating from him would scare you if you didn't feel the same way.

Just then, there is the faint sound of a door opening and footsteps clanging through the hall. You tense up, two male voices shouting in echoes, one of them vaguely familiar.

"Quelqu'un les a tués ! On doit régler cette merde avant que Maman découvre quoi que ce soit."

"Les putains de prisonniers!"

Before you can react, Ghost snatches the pistol from your grip. The second they rush toward the open door, he launches at them—an elbow to one’s face, the butt of the gun breaking the nose of the other. Price uses Nereida's knife to stab the fallen guard, while Kyle helps Ghost subdue the second one. You only recognize him as the man who made you strip when they forcibly drag him toward the manacles, the sight of his blonde hair making your nails curl into your palms.

"You stupid fucking Brits!"

Ghost strikes the gun into his left eye, making him jerk within the constraints, howling as the socket turns into bloody pulp. 

Kyle grips the man's scalp from behind to hold his head up, while Ghost presses the gun into his cheek, where you notice a wound shaped like a bite mark.

"Tell us where she is," he roars. "Or I'll take the other eye."

Nereida cowers into the corner, holding onto Ari's arm. 

"I don't know!" the man spits blood, and Ghost digs the gun into his cheek, ripping it open further until the bitten flesh hangs as a torn flap, exposed all the way to his eye. The scream that follows feels inhuman. "I swear, I don't—I don't fucking know!"

Fresh blood drips to the floor. Price, much more calm, lowers at the man's side. "How many people live here?"

The man grits his teeth, struggling to answer, "T-thirty males, and six females. Plus the infants."

Twenty-two now, you count in your head.

"And the weapons we had. What about those?" Price questions further.

When only staggered, pained breaths fills the room, Ghost tosses the bloody gun and grabs the knife from Price, stabbing the man's kneecap without hesitation. Another scream ensues, and there is the small itch to cover your ears, but you steel yourself against the wall to keep watching.

"Answer the fucking question." Ghost twists the knife in his knee.

He cries out, more bloody spittle flying from his mouth. "All of the ammo is hidden. Only A-Alexandre knows!"

"Who is Alexandre?"

“Maman's son, he enforces her commands and oversees the males.”

"Where is he?" Price asks, voice hard.

“He… he resides in the work shed, while the rest of us sleep in the quarters within the barn.”

You step forward. "We saw another building outside with just one guard, that must be it."

There is a beat of silence as Price processes the information, giving Ghost a satisfied nod. With pain still contorting his face, the man's eye drifts past Ghost's shoulder toward you. His lips twitch into a faint, bloody smirk that makes your skin crawl. Ghost follows his gaze, snarls, and abruptly slashes the man's throat from ear to ear.

B

It is still dark when Eloise comes to awaken her, though Blue's eyes never once fell shut with sleep. She spent the short-lived night alternating between staring at the crescent moon outside the window, and fiddling with the knitting needles left on the table. There is a new dress in the woman's clutch, beautiful white fabric embroidered with flowers, and a pair of beautiful leather shoes in the other hand.

"See? I told you the dress would be nicer." She smiles and hands it over, as if to offer something to be thrilled for. "You must change quickly. There is a lovely breakfast of framboises and milk waiting for you. Put these on as well." She sets the shoes on the floor.

Blue thinks it strange, to bother feeding her just before her death. Blankly, she asks, "How many people will be there? To watch me die."

Eloise's smile quivers slightly, a slight crack in her composure. "Not too many, I assure you. Only a few of us women, and one or two worthy men. Most are still sleeping." After a pause, she adds even quieter, almost ashamed, "Be thankful you don’t suffer through childbirth instead. It is... a painful thing. Long, too. At least this pain will be honorable and swift."

Blue's fingers tighten around the dress. "Okay. Do you mind if I change alone, please?"

Eloise bows her head. "Of course."

She casts one last gentle glance her way before shuffling out of the room, locking the door behind her and leaving Blue with only the dress and shoes. Once the door is closed, Blue quickly slips the dress on, shuddering as the cold fabric caresses her limbs. It’s more beautiful than anything she can remember ever wearing, and that disgusts her. Swallowing the churn in her stomach, she grabs the needles and sits back on the bed.

The wounds on her feet are shallow, her fingernails only able to pierce the thick skin slightly. Using the needles, she digs into them deeper, trembling from the pain that throbs as fresh blood begins to seep from the soles. She cuts and cuts furiously, teeth gritted, praying it’s enough to soak into the shoes she slips on over the new wounds. She covers the blood stains on the sheet with the blanket, then stands, almost crying out from the agony of walking on her torn feet.

"Please dad," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly, before calling to Eloise that she is ready.

"But if they don't manage to kill her... her punishment for me will be worse." "Is everything alright, miss? You've been in there for a while." "What are you doing with the female? It’s forbidden!" "A woman? Maman wouldn’t want you—" "Someone killed them! We need to fix this shit before Maman finds out anything." "The fucking prisoners!"

[weaversthread]

The Twins

[fishfooddude]

Two Months

Carmy really fucked up, but maybe he can prove his worthiness and get his girls back.

MDNI 18+

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 3

Carmy sighed when his call went to voicemail after a few rings. He pushed a hand through his hair and listened to your voicemail message, “Hey baby- I just wanted to know if I could see Mia. I know you don’t want to see me, but I need to see her… if you could just bring her by the restaurant, that would be fine. I just want to hold my daughter. Uh- yeah. I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ dumbass. Please just give me five minutes to explain everything. Let me know. I love you.” he hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. He stared up at the ceiling as he thought about you and Mia. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d seen either of you, and he just needed his girls again. 

“Asshole. Sign here.” Natalie barked at Carmy as she entered the office with an ordering forum. She shoved the papers at him before crossing her arms over her chest. “Natalie, I get it okay. I fucked up. My wife kicked me out of our house, I’m living in a shitty hotel, and I haven’t seen my daughter in weeks. I’m not in the fucking mood to deal with your bitching.” Carmy replied, glaring at his sister. She rolled her eyes, “You turned out so much like Dad.” she laughed, yanking the documents back. Carmy huffed, “Fuck you.”

“Right back at you, Carmen,” Natalie said, slamming the door behind her as she exited the office. “You okay, Sugar?” Richie questioned softly, noticing the anger in her eyes. She rolled her eyes and pushed past him without saying anything; being in the same vicinity as Carmy was irritating. Whenever she saw his face, she thought of Mia and how Carmy had repeated their father's actions. Natalie sighed when she got into her car, “I’m sorry you had to hear that, baby… let’s go get your brother.”

~

“Hey, Carm- everything okay with Y/N?” Richie awkwardly asked as Carmy was doing prep for that night's dinner service. “What do you think fuckhead?” Carmy snarkily responded; Richie rolled his eyes and decided to match his energy. “Well, she texted Tiff asking for her DIVORCE LAWYER’S info.” he leaned against the counter with a shit-eating grin. Carmy slammed his knife down and pushed past Richie to go into the alley. “That was fucked up, kid.” Tina scolded as she exited the walk-in. Richie shrugged, “I was going to be subtle, but he’s being a little bitch.” 

Carmy closed his eyes, fighting back tears when Syd showed up for prep. “Hey Carmen, are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer. He shook his head and let out a puff of air, “Y/N’s gonna leave me- I fuckin’ deserve it, but I want my wife Sydney. She won’t even fuckin’ talk to me, but she’ll fuckin’ divorce me? It’s bullshit.” Carmy cried to her. Syd stood there for a moment to collect her thoughts. She swallowed before sitting down next to him and pat Carmy’s shoulder as she began to explain her point of view on the situation, “You fucked up, Carmen. But you love Y/N and Mia- just go. Go home. I’ll cover tonight. Go talk to your wife.” 

Carmy took Syd’s suggestion. He wasn’t sure if you’d let him in or even talk to him, but he knew he should at least try.

~

“I don’t know Natalie. I just… I mean- I’m gonna sound like a dumb bitch, but maybe I could?” you groaned into your phone as Natalie was about to answer the doorbell rung. “Hey Nat, can I call you back in a bit? Someone’s here.” you waited for her passive agreement and hung up. You put your phone in your back pocket and went to the front door. You felt your stomach flip when you opened the door to reveal Carmy standing in your doorway. He was an unshaven mess, with messy curls and dark circles under his eyes. “Carmen? What are you doing here?” you questioned, bracing the door, hoping it would prevent him from entering your once-shared house. “You’re divorcing me?” he asked on the brink of tears. You sighed, “I asked Tiffany for her lawyer's information- that’s all.” 

“Y/N, you can’t leave me without giving me a chance to make things right.” Carmy pleaded. You sucked your teeth, “Carmen, I really don’t want to talk about this right now… Mia’s asleep, but you can come in and say goodnight if you want.” you offered as you pulled your sleeves over your hands. Carmy nodded furiously, “I-I, ye-yes, please.”

Carmy stared down at Mia’s sleeping body. She was splayed across her crib in a green onesie with a pacifier to match. Carmy swallowed as he watched her legs twitch. “She doesn’t like sleep sacks anymore?” he asked softly. You nodded before answering, “She decided it was her own personal hell a couple weeks ago, so now she’s a big girl.” 

Carmy laughed softly and put his hand on Mia’s cheek. She squirmed and leaned into his hand, “I love you, princess.”

You walked Carmy out of the nursery and into the hallway by the front door, “Can we talk?” Carmy asked, trying not to burst into tears and lock himself in the nursery. You nodded, “Okay. What do you want to talk about?” 

Carmy swallowed. “I know you hate me, but I need to see Mia.” He took a quick breath before continuing, “Y/N, please don’t keep my daughter from me. I’ll give you whatever you want. I just need to see my daughter.” Carmy sniffled as he wiped his eyes. 

Guilt. When you saw the hurt on his face, you knew what you had to do. “Next time I need someone to watch her, I’ll call you.” you offered, Carmy grinned and thanked you before starring at you with the same love and admiration he always had. He turned to walk back to his car but stopped in the middle of the yard, “I love you. I’m gonna win you back.” he pushed a hand through his hair before shoving them in his jacket pockets. You rolled your eyes, “Bye Carmen. Drive safe.” 

~

The flu hit your office like a semi-truck. Everyone got sick, including you, and taking care of a sick baby proved more complicated than you’d thought. No one could help you, so reluctantly, you called Carmy to come be with Mia that night. He was over the moon but tried to play it cool, you saw it through immediately. It was sweet in a cheesy, trying too hard kind of way.

“Hey baby, I brought you pastina soup and Tylenol.” he grinned, handing you a paper bag, “Thank you, Carmen.” you were short with him. Carmy noticed but chopped it up to you being sick, “I can make you some tea.” he offered as you walked back to your bedroom. “I’m fine, Carmen. Please just watch Mia,” you said over your shoulder before closing the bedroom door behind you. You wanted to be mad at him, but it was hard when he was so thoughtful… and handsome. He cleaned himself up since the last time you saw him.

Carmy sat back on the couch, making funny faces at Mia. She squealed and grabbed the air in Carmy’s direction. “I missed you so much, princess.” he laughed as he brought her up to his chest; he rubbed her back as she tried to hug him. “Okay, let's check on Mommy and then make some dinner. Daddy missed his favorite sous.” Carmy explained as he got up. The two walked down the hallway, Mia babbling away as Carmy adjusted her in his arms. He bumped the bedroom door open with his hip and saw you peacefully sleeping. He stepped into the bedroom and grabbed the trash from your side table. Mia grumbled as the two of you exited the room; Carmy chuckled and kissed her temple. “I know, princess. I wanna snuggle with Mommy too, but she doesn’t feel well… and hates me, but we’ll figure it out.”

You abruptly woke up around midnight when you heard talking through the baby monitor. You stumbled out of your bedroom and across the hall to the nursery; the door was askew, and as you approached it, you more clearly heard Carmy’s voice. He was laying on the floor next to Mia’s crib, “My little Mia… I wish you could stay this little forever.” he whispered as he put his hand up to the crib gate. The sight alone made your heart yearn for your family to be back together. You knew what you had to do.

~

“And that princess is how you make scrambled eggs, the right way.” you laughed when you overheard Carmy’s cooking lesson. You walked into the kitchen and saw Carmy plating up scrambled eggs, “Hey.” you greeted as you got a mug from the cabinet. Carmy grinned in your direction, “Mornin’ baby. Feelin’ better?” 

“Feelin’ waaaaaaay better,” you started, “Thanks for coming over to take care of her. I really appreciate it.”. Carmy leaned against the counter, “I’m her Dad- it’s my job.”

“You’re a good one… I don’t know where you’ve been staying, but if you want, I uh- I made up the guest room if you want to come home…” you explained, “I feel like I’ve been keeping Mia from you, and that’s fucked up.” you rocked on your heels hoping Carmy wouldn’t assume this offer meant you wanted to get back together. He nodded immediately, “I would love that.” Carmy was giddy at the idea of getting to be with Mia every day again- it also gave him an opportunity to win you back.

It had only been a few days since Carmy had been back home, and he jumped right back into the daily hustle and went above and beyond what he usually did. Carmy changed his schedule and managed to do a lot of his restaurant owner duties at home so that he could be with Mia more. The house was clean, the pantry was stocked with all your favorite snacks, home-cooked meals, and a very happy baby, and it drove you crazy.

“I just- this man is driving me insane.” you ranted as you sipped your margarita. It was girls’ night out with Syd and Natalie. You were two margaritas in and deep in your feelings. “I should just forgive-” you were cut off by Natalie exclaiming, “NO! You can’t just forgive him, Y/N. He’s a fuckin’ idiot for even thinking about being with another woman. It makes all his ‘you make me a better man’ vows bullshit. Our Dad used to do the same shit to Donna all the time- and she just accepted it! Then he left her. I don’t want Carmy to do the same to you- he already fuckin’ started doing it.”

You were taken aback by Natalie’s ranting and raving; you’d known that Carmy had a difficult relationship with his Dad, but you hadn’t known the full extent. You looked at Syd, wanting her to weigh in on the situation, “Carmy’s an asshole, but he’s your asshole. He loves you. He loves Mia. I don’t know if he’ll do it again - if my partner pulled something like this on me, I think I’d hear them out.”

It was almost 10 when Carmy had finally managed to get Mia to fall asleep. He was exhausted after a long day, but when he’d gone into your bedroom to get the baby monitor, he couldn’t help but notice a satin black thong sitting on the top of the laundry hamper. He stared at the underwear for a moment before shaking his head. He wasn’t going to take his wife’s dirty underwear. Carmy walked toward the door before pausing and going back to the hamper. “I guess I am that guy,” he scoffed, grabbing the panties and putting them in the pocket of his sweatpants. 

Carmy lay in bed leaning against a pile of pillows, scrolling through the private folder on his photo app. “There it is…” he mumbled as he tapped the video before putting his headphones in. “You promise no one else will see this, right?” your voice flooded Carmy’s ears as he pushed his sweats off. “Of course not, baby.” he reassured you as your hands reached for his zipper. He watched as you bit your lip and unzipped his pants. Carmy groaned as he watched you give him a blow job. Carmy took the underwear he’d stolen from your bedroom and started stroking himself. The sensation reminded him of when he’d tease you before relentlessly fucking you into a crying mess. 

“Oh fuck-” Carmy exhaled as he felt his orgasm approaching. He swiped to the next video of riding him. Carmy salivated at the sight of your bouncing tits. You were moaning his name as your movements got more frantic, “Cream all over my fuckin’ cock, baby.” 

“That was a fun night,” you said startling Carmy, he dropped his phone before quickly covering himself with a blanket as you stood in the doorway. You giggled at his reaction, you were just going to ask how Mia was before going to bed but catching Carmy masturbating with your underwear… blame it on the alcohol but you wanted a taste.

“I uh- I didn’t hear you- hear you come inside.” Carmy stumbled over his words as you fully entered the guest room. “No need for you to be embarrassed, Carmy…” he watched with wide eyes as you moved around the bed to sit next to him on the bed. You sighed and pushed the blanket off his lap to expose him.

You pushed your hand up Carmy’s thigh, making him swallow hard. “What made you so hard, baby? Were you being a little perv… jacking off with my dirty panties… watching a video of me sucking your cock?” you mewled as you ran your fingers along his thigh. Carmy nodded as he stared into your eyes. You giggled and grasped the base of his length. He croaked as you started to stroke him, “You like that baby?” you asked cocking your head to the side, staring up at him. He nodded as he let his head fall back against the headboard.

Carmy whimpered as you ran your tongue along the bottom of his cock. You swirled your tongue around his leaking tip, making him swear under his breath. As you took more of him in your mouth, his whimpers turned to whiny moans. You pulled away with a pop. Carmy stared down at you, watching a string of saliva connect your lips to the head of his cock. “Does that feel nice, baby?” you asked as you returned to pumping your hand around him. “So-so nice,” he replied, touching your cheek. You smiled as you pushed it away.

“But, why should I suck your cock if you’re gonna let just any woman off the street suck it?” you asked. Carmy shook his head, “Only-only you, baby-y.” he shuddered.

“Only me? Tell me, Carmen, who does this cock belong to?” he was putty in your hands as you slowed your pace. “You, baby, only you.” he groaned, “Prove it.” you challenged.

Carmy buried his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly pressed into your entrance as you lamented at the familiar sensation. You held onto Carmy’s shoulders as he started thrusting his hips in a steady rhythm, “Hmm, Carmy…” you hummed as he hungrily kissed your neck.

“I don’t deserve you baby…”

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Part 5

[moonybug444]

Queen i love ur stories will you ever do other characters one day? keep writing girl ur killing it

i actually have been working on something for gojo so here it is lol but i didn’t think people wanted other characters! please let me know someone you guys would like me to write for!

you had it comin’

tw: daddy kink / reader is called a brat a lot / gojo ruins an orgasm / ——————————————————————————————————

“y’like it satoru? really?”

gojo looks at you like he’s got stars in his eyes. the second he even sees your pretty frame he was done for.

he had just come in from an entirely too long stressful day of work, the only thing on his mind was you. and of course, like you read his mind, you had a pretty surprise for him

you’re cutely giggling by the time he finally walks over to you, quickly shuffling himself so he sitting on the king size bed and your straddling his long legs.

with a bright smile on his face he demands, “gimme a spin beautiful,” and you happily get up. raising to your tip tip toes and giving him a short yet thorough spin. you’re in a short, pretty, baby blue lingerie set, and paired with the cute little matching bows you topped, he thinks you want him to explode.

when it comes to your husband, it doesn’t take much to get plenty praise from him. in his eyes your perfect. shit, it’s gotten to the point where you wake up in the morning already expecting praise just for opening your pretty eyes.

of course that has its ups and downs though. i mean you’ve always been really, ‘taking cared of’ as you call it, though satoru calls it spoiled. getting everything you’ve wanted since the day you were born without so much as a rebuttal plus satoru’s constant yes’ didn’t do well for you at all. before you were only spoiled, now you’re a full on brat. you never hear the word no out of anyone’s mouth anymore, and when you do, who cares? you know your husbands going to make it happen for you.

gojo cuffs both hands under your ass and grins handsomely.

“look what you do to me, baby.” he looks down at the hard-on in his dress pants, and your eyes follow, practically drooling at the sight.

you feel like your going crazy the longer you look at it, you need it. it’s not like you haven’t had it or anything, you’re fucking yourself on your husbands dick practically every night. which is why your confused when satoru doesn’t make his move like usual. and you’re even more confused when he shoves your hand away from touching him.

your lips curl back when you pout, “satoru…why can’t i—”

“what you think you deserve it all of the sudden?” he takes a deep breath and tries to put on his stern voice. “you really think weeks worth of being a spoiled brat is gonna erase from this, sweetheart?”

yes. most definitely. even satoru knows it can, but he’s realized going easy on you doesn’t get him anywhere. he can’t help it though, you’re as cute as can be. how’s he supposed to just say no to his pretty wife when she’s looking up at him with those perfect doe eyes, those wispy lashes he just adores on her? that big pouty lip and the puffed out cheeks when you start to throw a fit? exactly he can’t. although he figures he’ll at least give it a shot, just to say he tried.

“but—” of course he sees ‘em before they come. those big fat crocodile tears you force out whenever you’re not getting what you want on your timing. “i have been a good girl…! you just don’t even love me—” you go to wipe at your eyes and whine. usually they work, but this time satoru’s putting his foot down.

“nu-uh, no— baby c’mon, we’re not doing this tonight, ok?” he says the kind words though an antagonizing smile shows on his face, which he tries to hide.

he pulls you back on his lap and rubs circles on your back. he speaks to you in a delicate tone when you’ve finally calmed down he speaks to you in a subtle tone.

“what’s been going on, huh?” he fakes a pout. “what’s up with my sweet girl? i just can’t say no to anything these days, just throw a fit.”

your eyebrows are raised when you curl your head into his shoulder like a cat, trying to get on his good side. “m’sorry toru.” you sniffle out a whiney, “i jus’ miss you so much.” when you puff your chest out and start to slowly move your hips against him, you think your older husband starts to listen.

“i know you do pretty girl, but you can’t just—”

“please daddy…can i make it better?” when you say it like that all satoru can look at is your plush tits in that pretty set you’ve got on. all he can pay attention to is your full hips slowly circling his cock.

out the window is his stern attitude when you lay him down and take his clothes off one by one. out the window is you being a spoiled brat the last few weeks. all your husband can think about now is the way you let yourself sink on top of his leaking cock. he thinks all can be forgiven.

——————————————————————————————————

“hah—” you’re still whining as you bounce on his cock, wanting to hear his praise. “m’doin g….good, daddy?” your pussy still dripping from the last load satoru gave you, sucking everything he’s got.

satoru slaps your ass and pants against your tits, mumbling incoherently to himself. he looks up at you bouncing on your tip toes and he feels like he’s gonna faint. he’s never seen something so beautiful, sure of it.

“mygosh, baby…” he tries to grab on to something—your hips, the bed, anything to keep him stable. “can’t keep doing this, ok? n…next time m’putting my foot done.”

yeah, yeah. you give him a cutely whined, ‘k, daddy’ and keep yourself going, trying your best to fuck him good like he does you. your trying your best and your husband knows it. and it’s almost like he reads your mind, because the second you feel your legs grow aches and tired of riding, he flips you onto the edge of the bed.

satoru leans down to fuck his tounge into your mouth when he starts to hear you whine about how its, ‘too much,’ all the sudden. he just can’t get a fucking break from your shit, can he? when he’s not fucking you its, ‘you don’t love me,’ but when he is you can’t take it?fuck that. he feels himself taking deeper stroke when you complain. fucks you harder and harder. you try to push at his lower tummy but he won’t let up—just grabs both of your hands with one of his and holds them above your head.

when your pussy starts to squirt out more of her mess he knows you’re starting to get overstimulated, but he just can’t seem to get himself to care. when you get too fussy all he does is stuff two of his fat fingers in your mouth.

“yeah,” he looks down to see the mix of slick and sweat pooling at the base of his cock every time he pulls away from you. “pussy feels even better when it’s not a fucking brat in my ear.”

drool pools around your mouth when you go to say something. satorus positive it’s something along the lines of, “m’not a brat!” he’s just glad he doesn’t have to hear it.

your clit pulses against his moving fingers and he can tell your there, just a few more strokes and you’d be making another mess.

“you wanna cum, baby?” satoru watches you hurriedly nod and his eyebrows raise, ready to play. he keeps fucking you deeper and deeper and you swear your feel your pussy gradually molding just for his dick.

his cock getting messier by the second, white ring showing every time he pulls in and out of your pussy. as soon as satoru sees your eyes start to roll back, and feels that little pussy let go. he pulls right out.

the whine that escapes from your lips is beyond satisfying, he can barely hold his smile. “wha— ‘toru!!” your little fingers fly to your clit, trying to at least ease some of the dissatisfaction. you rub your middle and ring finger in circles on your little clit messily, not nearly doing it as fulfilling as your husband. when your twitchy pussy does nothing but ache you cry out.

your eyes are weeping when you look to see your husband already pulling his briefs up and laughing at you. “don’t look at me like that baby.” he looks down at your pretty pussy still leaking with his and your cum and licks his lips, “you had it coming’.

[softlymaximoff]

I loved you at your darkest

The Sun, Moon and Stars AU

18+ ONLY MEN & MINORS DNI (blank blogs will be blocked you do not have my permission to republish my work onto any platform.

— A/N: sorry it took foreverrrrrr, no one’s dead woohoo

— Summary: without your sun, the moon could only do so much until she herself was pleading for the warmth of her lover to return.

— Characters: WandaNat x Reader

— Warnings: ANGST, serious injuries (Wanda), subtle anxiety attack, fluff (only in the beginning SORRY), close call with death (Wanda), mentions of brief Nat’s past.

— Word Count: 2.3k

The air was heavy with a dull ache that nobody dared to disturb. You were grieving, Nat was grieving, the whole compound was dreading the awaiting call from Fury himself. It had been two more weeks with Wanda gone, two weeks since Nat confessed her need for you and she hadn’t left your side. She’s follow you around like a ghost, even if she wasn’t there physically, she’d lay out some of her favourite stolen clothes from Wanda’s side of the closet for you to wear, she’d do your hair the night before and braid it like Wanda would. She’d leave sticky notes as you had been doing on random objects you commonly use and she’s even spray some of Wanda’s vanilla and honey body mist around your shared room. She was trying so hard to compensate for Wanda not being there it was painful.

Today was no different, she’d woken up from yet another nightmare about the witch in battle and pulled you in closer trying to ground herself with something but nothing was easing her worries. Your body melted into her arms instinctively and she took a deep ragged breath trying to regain her composure but when you finally opened your eyes you were quick to comfort her. “Sorry for waking you up” she sniffled and wiped her eyes harshly, stilling when you grabbed her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Don’t do that Natty, Wanda says it’s bad for your eyes” you gave her a sad smile as tears fell down her perfectly carved cheekbones. “Where is she Y/n, where is my sun” she openly sobbed into your chest and you could do nothing but comfort the upset Widow.

“She has to come back, she’s Wanda” you kissed the top of her head (much like Wanda would) and she nodded tearfully, completely pliable in your arms. You loved when she was this soft and vulnerable but you hated that it was because of the situation the three of you were in. No longer than ten more minutes had passed and she was sound asleep in your arms. Hopefully the two of you could have a little more of a sleep in considering it had just passed 5am. The next time you woke up was a much nicer and warmer reason as Natasha opened the blinds and the sun was hitting directly onto the bed. “Hi Natty” your voice hoarse from the slumber and she gracefully manoeuvred herself onto your body and kissed your cheek. “Hi malyshka” she whispered and let her body fall into yours.

“Can we make Wand’s blueberry pancakes please” she mumbled into your collarbone and you stuttered at the feeling, not used to her being this affectionate with you. “Mhm, can you pass me her hoodie” you breathed in the scent of her strawberry and rose shampoo as she matched your breathing, the two of you falling in a synchronised rhythm. The two of you finally slipped out of bed, dressing yourselves in your shared clothes, Natasha braiding your hair into two French braids and you doing her very subtle and minimal makeup while sitting in the bathroom sink. Domestic, home, loved. To be loved is to be understood and the two of you were at the point where there was nothing else in the way of breaking your trust. By the time you two made it to the kitchen, everyone had had their breakfast and were on their way to start their own days.

Natasha got the utensils, you got the ingredients and you moved gracefully around each other. The occasional banter with flour or batter had made the room light up room with love and warmth. Something the compound had been missing since Wanda’s mission. “Detka you’ve got flour in your hair I did so nicely” Nat whined playfully and gasped as you swiped batter on her lips. “Oh boo, now you’ve got pancake on your lips I glossed so nicely” you fake pouted and she rolled her eyes before surprising you with a kiss on the lips. “Now we’re matching” she held in a giggle at your shocked face.

The two of you finished up making breakfast and sat down next to each other, Natasha’s hand brushing against yours every now and then providing much needed comfort. The sound of the avengers jet made your head shoot towards the main entrance and before you could even process what it was, Natasha was already at the door swinging it open. Could it be? Was Wanda finally home? Your pancakes left on the bench and fork full of a piece was dropped, not caring about the potential mess it made. Your breathing came in quick and you were out the door with your girlfriend not far ahead of you.

In the distance you could see Tony carrying Wanda bridal style as he also limped out of the jet. She was here. Wanda was home. The minute you reached the pair you could see the damage on your Wanda. She was bruised, cut up and barely conscious but you didn’t care, she was home, alive. Natasha’s voice was the first you heard as she began harassing Tony for details but the man just heaved and groaned, mumbling something about medbay. “Nat, hey look at me Miss double agent. Take her to medbay get Bruce to check her out, she needs it bad” he panted as he transferred the witch into her arms. Steve came running out and greeted the genius with a warm but stern hug and helped him into the compound, assumingly taking him to Dr Cho.

You were speechless as you followed Nat, emotions swimming in your eyes and your heart beating abnormally fast. You didn’t care, you wanted Wanda. You stayed awfully quiet as Nat rushed her on the medbay bed, years of training for the widow prepared her to hook her up to vitals before Bruce got to the room. “Read her over Bruce please” she was desperate, her voice wavered and she choked back a sob. She needed Wanda and you knew it so you stayed by the door watching your girlfriend worry about her love. You could feel your heart tightening each time Nat choked on her sobs, your chest was hammering with an uneven rhythm and your head was swimming with thoughts but you held it all in. Silent tears fell onto your cheeks and you rubbed at them hastily, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, Wanda was in pain and you were selfishly upset when you were completely fine.

“She’s a fighter Nat, she’s barely conscious, I hate to be the one to say it but if the boys had waited any longer I’m not sure it would have been the same welcome home, you’d hoped for” Bruce admitted quietly as he put her on a higher drip and pretty much an oxygen mask as you’d briefly peered over the two standing over the medical bed. He stitched up her upper right forearm as a deep gash revealed itself when the makeshift bandage was removed and you held in a guttural sob at the sight. She was completely broken, every inch of her body was covered in bruises and scratches and you hated it. It made you physically sick, the fact that she was out there and almost died was a realisation you never wanted experience again. You heard muffled talking in the room and tried to understand what they were saying but the sound of your own heart beating in your ears and the small tremble in your body made you completely unable to focus as to what their conversation actually was.

A soft touch to your chin made you recoil back and tense up as your eyes darted to the intruder in front of you. “Hey, hey look at me, that’s it there you go. Hi baby. She’s okay kotenok, she’s okay” Natasha whispered in the silence of the room and your composure broke. You crashed yourself into your girlfriend’s arms and let out (what Natasha thought) the most heartbroken yet relieved sob she’d ever heard as the series of emotions washed over you like a freight train. “She- she’s okay. Wanda’s okay” you choked back on your tears and struggled to get some air in, Natasha rubbing a soothing hand along the small of your back. “Yeah malysh, yeah she is” she kissed your temple and just held your fragile form, humming one of Wanda’s familiar Sokovian lullabies. “I’ll leave you ladies to it, she’s okay, bandaged up properly and should be up in a few hours” Bruce smiled sadly at the scene he just witnessed and made his exit, closing the door in an act of privacy and calling out to F.R.I.D.A.Y to limit the access to the medbay rooms, only allowing the two of you and himself in case of emergency to enter.

Natasha brought you to the edge of Wanda’s bed and grabbed your reluctant hand, placing on top of Wanda’s chillingly cold one. “She’s home” she murmured behind you and silent tears ran down your cheeks. It was silent for a while, Natasha opting to sit on the end of the bed, patting the space between her la for you to sit. You leaned right back into your girlfriend’s front, lap rubbing circles on the back of Wanda’s hand to ground yourself. “Hi Wands” your voice was small and hesitant,afraid if you spoke any louder she’s break even more. “You were really brave” you spoke again, finding an odd comfort in the moment. “Our brave girl” Nat spoke behind you and you smiled genuinely, hearing the love in her voice. You knew she was never good with showing her heart to people but with you two, she had grown to learn how to love without needing to say much.

A few more hours passed in the room, Wanda’s breathing seemed to steady itself into a normal rhythm and her skin was warmer to the touch. It was nearing 4pm and your eyes were slowly slipping shut. With Natasha now playing with your hair and the patterned beeping of the lab machine, you were caught in a trance. The smallest movement from Wanda’s fingered had you shooting up straight in your girlfriend’s lap and you both froze, was she waking up? The room fell tense as you waited for another movement from the ginger and you wanted to scream in joy as her hand moved again. “Hi moya lyubov” Natasha whispered in hope of a chance of Wanda coming out of her barely conscious state.

Another movement caused you to turn around and look at Natasha (who had tears in her eyes), smiling up at her and nodding your head, turning back to Wanda who had her brows slightly furrowed now. “We’re right here Wanda, forever and always” you continued to talk to her, attempting to encourage her to wake up. A soft groan fell out of her lips and you breathed out a relieved cry. “Hi baby” you choked out, feeling Natasha shift behind you and come around to the side of the bed. She crouched down so she was eye level with her girlfriend and kissed her temple. Another groan rippled throughout the room and her eyes squinted open.

“Wanda” Natasha sniffled and rubbed at her eyes quickly, not wanting to turn the attention on her but onto her injured girlfriend instead. “Tasha” oh god her voice. It was hoarse and dry but you’d take it over any day if it meant you’d actually get to hear it and not the flatline of the monitor. Natasha openly cried now, instant relief washing over her features as she bumped her nose gently on the tip of Wanda’s. the sight was more than what you could have asked for. From a little girl trained to not show love or emotions, she was a completely different little girl in this moment. She was glowing, she was full of love that only the two of you ever got the liberty to see. She was absolutely beautiful and broken, she was whole. She had found her Sun. You had found your moon and they had found their Star.

Wanda had turned to you, sporting an exhausted smile and a subtle head nod, ushering you closer to her and Nat. “Hi baby” she rasped out and kissed the tip of your fingers. “Hi Wands” you tearfully sniffled and kissed her nose in return, Natasha watching the two of you with a gentle smile taking in the scene. What you didn’t fail to notice was the subconscious taps of Natasha’s fingers on Wanda’s forearm, three consecutive taps with a few seconds of pause between the pattern and you gave her a soft smile knowing how hard it was for her to express her emotions sometimes. She was showing herself to you two more and more each day, and that was one of the many little things that made your heart fill with pride.

She had learned how to show love to the people who appreciated her, just like the Moon. She was the light in your darkness and the comfort in the unknown. She just needed someone to show her her own worth like the Sun and Stars. The sun loved her so much that she gave some of her own brightness for the Moon, promising to count on her during dark times. Her moonlight shone so bright that all the stars in the universe wanted to mirror her and giver her the same appreciation she did to the sun. Shining bright and creating an array of little moons surrounding her with a mirrored reflection of love. Together the three became every artist’s and poet’s dream. A love story so pure and so delicate no one dared to interfere with.

[jessamine-rose]

Aahh thank you so much, dear!! This reblog is long overdue and for that, I apologize. I hope my comments in the tags make up for it ^^;

So I decided to redraw damsel again since I still occasionally come back on read @jessamine-rose and @bye-bye-sunbird 's fanfics, which I've read too much of

So here's damsel and another drawing of her :3 and also an extra doodle of damsel

And her eye colour, which I may change later on to red, I will most likely draw either saviour or kitty next

[razorblade180]

Union

In the midst of going over blueprints for their future home, Jaune’s concentration gets interrupted by flowing petals. He cracks a smile before turning around to see Ruby completely obscured by her cloak.

Jaune:Have you come for my soul?

Ruby:Might as well. Already have your heart.

Jaune:Heh, then I kindly ask for you wait. Your payment will be paid in full down the aisle.

Ruby:How stingy. I’ve already given you both of mine; and a little extra~

Jaune:*red* How was work, you gremlin?

Ruby:Patrol duty was fine. Starting to think crooks know my schedule.

Jaune:Or you threw most in jail.

Ruby:Organized crime calls for chaotic heroism. Anywho, house plans going well?

Jaune:More or less. If all goes well then we’ll be living outside Vacou before our anniversary.

Ruby:Always thinking ahead. Meanwhile I’m struggling with awesome vows.

Jaune:You brought a world together. I’m sure you’ll think of something.

Ruby:Feelings are a little harder than a battle cry or call to arms. Speaking of feelings, I have a little something for you.

Jaune:*looks at cloak* Is that so~

Ruby:*blushes* It’s not what you think! Not this time. This gift is way better!

Jaune:I don’t know Rubes. Last gift that started like this was pretty amazing. *smiles*

Ruby:Just close your eyes and hold your hands out!

The knight chuckles as he does what he’s told. Immediately something weighted and cool to the touch lands in hands. Jaune opens his eyes and stars at a white scabbard. Somehow, this took him by surprise. It had his symbol in the middle and was surrounded by red thorns.

The grip of the hilt was this dark blue with a spiral of fierce red that went up and outlined the golden hand guard that was modeled in the shape of his symbol. He pulled out the gift from the scabbard to reveal cold, shining white steel that had its double edge and tip run red like hilt. If Jaune was being honest, he’s never seen a sword look more like a work of fantasy. Ruby stood right in front of him and put her left hand in the hilt, showing that his symbol had subtle thorn and rose engravings that matched her gold and red on her engagement ring.

The accomplished and proud Huntress then took a step back and started twiddling her thumbs while swaying, finding it hard to meet Jaune’s gaze; so she pulled her hood over her head. At this point it probably matched her face.

Ruby Rose:So uh yeah, that’s a Ruby Rose Original.

Jaune:You made this!?

Ruby:*nods* I’ll be honest. I spent so long shopping for wedding bands with Weiss helping. I’m still definitely getting one! But none of them really… felt like they were saying how I feel. There’s not a moment I want you feel like you’re fighting alone; even when we’re far apart. With this, I’m always by your side ready to help. The scabbard is a shield too but if I’m being honest I’m still a rookie when it comes to that kind of smithing. Consider this my own form of engagement to you.

Jaune:Ruby this is…I don’t even know what to say.

Ruby:*trembly* I uh..it’s fine if you treat this as a ceremonial blade too. After all…there’s history in Crocea Mors and I don’t want to step on that or make you feel like you have to stop wielding it because of m-

Two hands gentle hands pull back her hood and reveal teary, anxious eyes. Honestly, Ruby felt so ridiculous right now. All this effort into a heart felt token of affection and yet anxiety gripped her mind on how he’d take the jester. His thumbs run across her cheeks to catch a few stray tears.

Jaune:Hey, talk to me. What’s with the tears? This is an amazing.

Ruby:I just…Crocea Mors is its own vow. It has been for years and I know I shouldn’t be feeling guilty or nervous but I do. Gods, it’s so dumb hehe. Pyrrha would totally give me an earful for being so-

Jaune:Thoughtful? *smiles*

Ruby:..Heh, yeah. Yeah she would.

Jaune:Well, I don’t know if your beautiful brain and smithing skills have noticed, but you’ve really gotten good at knowing my style.

He briefly lets go of her and grabs his sword along with the new gift. Jaune pulls out both and puts them against one another. Yeah the hilt is different but it’s wide enough to work. Without hesitation, Jaune took the scabbard of Crocea Mors and slid it on the new sword easily; right down to the satisfying click in place that took Ruby by surprise.

Jaune:If you really feel guilty, then I can do this! Not gonna lie, I’d feel like shit getting that scabbard dirty in the future. It’s my first Ruby Rose original! Also gives you time to hyper fixate on shield crafting. As for the blade, I know this bad boy will keep me safe and sou-

Once again, petals flowed. Each one danced around him while the rose itself pressed her lips against his with gratitude and overflowing joy that dispelled fears like magic.

Ruby:Jaune Arc, you truly are my fairytale ending. My happily ever after.

Jaune:Hehe, And you said your vows would be hard? C’mere.

He pulled his loving fiancée into a deeper kiss before matching her smile. She was right. This present was the best.

Jaune:Does this engagement sword have a name?

Ruby:The deepest part of my soul wants to call it Bloody Moon but that doesn’t inspire luck as wedding gift.

Jaune:I kinda like what you said a few moments ago.

Ruby:Oh, so Ever After?

Jaune: Tale’s End

Ruby:That’s so- damn I’m marrying the right person. That’s such I good name! When our house is done I think my first order of business is mounting the scabbard with Crocea Mors somewhere nice and proud. Gonna need your height though.

Jaune:Naturally. And who knows. Maybe it’ll protect the both of us in a new way someday?

xxxxxxx

Several years later

Jaune:Alright squirt, ready for your first real sword sparring!?

A foolish question for a young girl waiting to dives out the front door and slide across a sand dune into a wide battle stance, her grin in full bloom with Crocea Mor ready to aid her first step towards greatness.

Carmine:Born ready!

Ruby:Do your best! Show him who’s boss!

Carmine:Ha! With this by my side, I might as well be invincible.

[untitled5071]

your drabble of taffy meeting the creature earlier on the film makes me want to see those two being friends. but also taffy realising the creature likes lisa but lisa is too focused on michael to notice. catch her putting some colour on his face and painting his nails. she makes him watch romantic films to give him ideas on how to win lisa over

I'm glad you liked the last one! I have no idea of you meant for this to be a request but I took it as one anyway, please enjoy some Creature/Taffy bonding time!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Okay, the next thing we have to work on is your nails, because no offense, but judging by these cuticles I can absolutely tell that you were in the ground for a century and a half.”

The corpse across from her grunted in indignation, but the effect was skewed by the blush that dusted his cheeks and the fluffy pink scrunchie that was currently holding his hair back. 

Taffy rolled her eyes teasingly and held out her hand, gesturing for the creature to give her his. He complied, and she grabbed the manicure kit she had gotten for Christmas the year before and got to work, pushing his cuticles back gently and cleaning up his nail beds as best she could while her TV announced the next music video it would be playing behind her.

They were sitting on the floor of Taffy’s bedroom; Lisa had gone out for a snack run and left her step sister alone with her secret undead companion, and Taffy hadn’t hesitated to use the opportunity to give the creature in her sister’s closet some much-needed pampering.

 He had protested the idea until Taffy had told him it would make him look more presentable for Lisa, and soon he was reluctantly sitting cross-legged in front of her on her bright teal carpet while Taffy tried and failed to find a foundation shade that matched his pallid skin. 

The process of applying makeup hadn’t lasted long since the creature wanted to remain as natural (unnatural?) as possible, and soon Taffy was taking his hand in hers and applying a base coat of nail polish onto his left hand while he watched curiously. Her TV was tuned into MTV, and she could see Creature stare at it for short bursts at a time before looking away, slightly overwhelmed by the colors, sounds and images he was being exposed to for the first time. 

Taffy hummed along as she fixed up his nails, and when she finished up the left hand she mimed blowing on it and told him to copy her, which he did as she moved onto the right hand, ignoring the stitches as she got started. 

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them; the creature was probably still a little unsure of whether or not he should be hanging around with her; they had a shaky introduction, but he seemed harmless enough to Taffy and she was just happy that someone was around for her sister in a way she herself had never quite been able to despite her best efforts, so he was okay in her book. And Taffy was clearly the family member that Creature had the least amount of disdain towards, so they had formed a tentative friendship, one that Taffy was currently trying to strengthen with this little makeover. 

Deciding to break the silence, she looked up into the corpse’s bewildered eyes and smiled, tearing him away from his staring contest with Billy Idol in the “Rebel Yell” music video.

“Don’t even think about getting bleached, buddy. Blonde would not be a good look for you.”

He grunted again, slightly offended, but she waved him off.

“Let’s rap. When did you first get the hots for Lisa?”

His grunt pitched up in surprise, and he gave her a look that was somehow sheepish, guilty and mortified all at once. 

“Dude, it’s totally obvious. You aren’t subtle AT ALL, I think everyone but Lisa herself can see that you’re totally smitten.”

His cheeks darkened under the artificial blush she had given him, and she nodded sagely. 

“Told you. So, when did it happen? When you got reanimated?”

The creature shook his head and pointed out an arched path with his left hand. 

“Oh, before? When you were still in the ground?”

He nodded, and Taffy whistled, impressed. 

“Damn, that’s some dedicated crush. Who knew grave tending was such a good way to meet guys?”

The creature snorted out a laugh, and Taffy raised a well-plucked eyebrow inquisitively. 

“So when are you going to tell her that you’re head over heels, huh? Frankly I think she should have noticed ages ago, but she’s always needed a bit more help in matters of love than most people and she won’t take my word for it, so you’re probably going to have to do some show and tell before she gets it.”

He hummed distractedly, his blush still very much present as he thought about ways to woo Taffy’s stepsister. She finished up his right hand and took his left again, his brow sill deeply furrowed in thought as she picked up the bottle of black nail polish that she had gotten for the Miss Tristate Teen Halloween pageant and began applying it to his now-dry nails. 

“I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head, you know. If you need any help we can go raid her VHS collection, I know she’s got some rom coms in there that you could get some inspiration from.”

He groaned in agreement, eyebrows still scrunched together. Taffy rolled her eyes fondly at the lovesick, oblivious idiot in front of her. 

“But you know, you probably don’t need much help. She may not realize it yet, but I can tell she’s got feelings for you, too. I don’t have to be an I.P. for that, I just know. I haven’t seen her talk or smile this much since I met her, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s turning heads in the hallway. That’s all you, and I’m sure she’ll realize it eventually. Just so long as you keep doing what you’re doing and practically worshiping the ground she walks on, she’ll figure it out. I promise.”

She switched to his other hand as the creature absorbed her words, and when she looked up he grunted, the words lost but the message clear. 

Thank you. 

She beamed at him. 

“You’re welcome. Just don’t break her heart, or else I’m going to put you back in the ground for good this time, okay?”

She said it brightly, but her eyes were anything but joking. Creature’s own widened in turn and he shook his head vigorously and with complete conviction. Taffy nodded, satisfied. 

“Now hold still or you’re going to mess me up.”

The corpse complied, letting Taffy get back to work. She hummed along to the music video playing behind her, and she was just about to put the finishing touches on his thumb when the front door opened and shut under them, and the sound of combat booted feet trampling up the stairs caught their attention. A few seconds later, Lisa poked her head into Taffy’s bedroom door, arms laden with candy bags and eyes bright. 

“Oh, hey guys! Are you doing makeovers?”

“Yep! Come join us, though I should warn you I require payment for my services in the form of Bottlecaps.”

Lisa smiled and walked into the room, handing the previously mentioned candy to Taffy before plopping down next to her corpse, patting the top of his head before taking a look at the spread of self-care items before them. 

While Lisa was absorbed in her examinations, Taffy absolutely did not miss the absolutely adoring eyes the creature was turning her way, nor the way his longing practically radiated off of him in waves. She grinned, and the corpse looked up and caught her eye. She winked at him and gave him a quick double thumbs-up out of Lisa’s view, and his eyes widened, before he relaxed slightly and gave her a shy, conceding smile. 

The moment was interrupted by Lisa straightening, her hands wrapped around the same bottle of nail polish Taffy had just finished using on the Creature. 

“Oooh, can you do mine? I didn’t even know you had black in your collection and I’m awful at doing my own right hand.”

Taffy smiled, utterly delighted at the idea of helping her sister out with a fresh coat of paint. She stretched out her hand and Lisa took it, fingers spread as she bounced a little. The goth looked over at her undead companion as Taffy began painting, and when she noticed his nails her smile widened. 

“Hey, look at that. We’re gonna match!”

He beamed at her in turn, his devotion lined in every crease of his face, and Lisa scooted slightly closer to him, their thighs pressed together. 

Taffy turned her attention to her work, just barely keeping the smile off of her own face. 

They’ll figure it out. Eventually. 

[inked-night]

At the precise moment Ellenia slipped through the crowd, leaving a trail of floral perfume and polite murmurs, the smile painted on Freya’s face vanished like mist at dawn. Her expression transformed into a grimace of disgust so pronounced it might have been carved in stone. Beside her, Rudbeckia de Borgia, Izek’s betrothed, held a wine glass with the grace of a lady… or so it seemed.

"I'll be frank, Rudbeckia" Freya began, her voice as sharp as a knife's edge. "I don’t think you’re the right match for Izek"

Rudbeckia, who had been in a contemplative silence (Well, she was actually evaluating the salon curtains, finding them excessively ornate to the point of bad taste), was forced to focus on the young woman with purple eyes. 'Is she talking to me?' She wondered, pointing at herself in a gesture so belated it almost showed dust settling.

Looking back, Rudbeckia’s life had always been a carousel of the absurd (She had spent her days dying and reviving in an endless cycle to appease The Entity! Of course her sense of normality had twisted like a pretzel!), but even she had to admit this latest turn of events was perplexing.

Just hours earlier, she was in the realm of Haddonfield, playing cat and mouse with that scoundrel Michael Myers (The rascal kept trying to impale Illyana on a hook!), while her companions, Cale, Shen Jiu, and Penelope, busied themselves repairing the last generator…

How had she ended up being catapulted to another world that, by some cosmic joke, turned out to be her first life? Not that she had memories of it, but still, who was the genius who brought her back? And why had they separated her from her beloved girlfriend and comrades?

Illyana, this poor Rudbeckia misses you! But fear not, Rudbeckia will find a way back to you.

"Do you think that because Izek treats you kindly, you deserve to marry him?" Freya spat the words with venom so subtle it almost floated in the air, while she poked Rudbeckia’s chest, hoping to provoke tears or at least a grimace of pain on her unperturbed face.

"Marry?" Rudbeckia blinked, surprised by the mention of such a commitment. Her mind, usually drifting in a state of blissful intoxication by the presence of her attractive girlfriend, accelerated at a dizzying speed. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying not to appear completely clueless, though she was known to be slower than a snail in an obstacle race when it came to matters unrelated to Illyana. "Why would I marry anyone other than my precious, magnificent, and adorable Lyna?" The response came automatically, with a tone of indignation suggesting that the mere idea was blasphemous (And this coming from someone who had at one point shared blood ties with Myers).

Marry some Izek in this life? Never! Rudbeckia was resolutely loyal to Illyana. She had dreamed of her ideal wedding with Illyana more than once. Lyna, dressed in white, adorned with the most dazzling jewels in the world, and Rudbeckia, crying tears of joy, would cling to her future wife’s waist as she dramatically fell to the ground, overwhelmed by the honor of being loved by Lyna. Rudbeckia would try to kiss the ground Lyna walked on, but she, as benevolent as a saint, would pull her up by the hair (Yes, yes!) to calm her, patting her back and giving her looks full of sweetness and affection.

"W-What?"Freya froze at Rudbeckia’s torrent of words, unable to fully process what she had just heard. "Are you mocking me?" She retorted, gripping her fan so tightly the ribs creaked. "Who the hell is Lyna?"

"My future wife!" Rudbeckia proclaimed with such vehemence it seemed she had opened the floodgates of a dam that everyone (Cale, Shen Jiu, and Penelope) had decided to keep locked with padlocks and possibly tons of cement. The passion and love Rudbeckia felt for Illyana were so intense and cheesy they bordered on exasperating. "The woman for whom I would give my life! No, forget that, if anything happened to Lyna, I would raze this unworthy world to ashes and then join her in death"

Rudbeckia loved talking about her girlfriend. She could spend hours, entire days, rambling about any detail of Illyana, to the point it was worrisome how she could speak nonstop without taking a breath in those moments when you had the misfortune to ask her about 'Lyna'.

Cale thought Rudbeckia had a problem… but Rudbeckia had no problem! Nothing in this universe was worth or as fascinating as Illyana! Rudbeckia was born to adore that precious, ethereal woman!

"No, wait…" Freya didn’t expect to stutter, but she also didn’t expect this young woman, daughter of a conservative and devoutly Church-going family, to speak so rapidly about a woman, whom she described as: 'The Goddess of Goddesses, before whom all should bow and feel grateful if Illyana ever glanced at them!' "Stop… Are you even breathing!?"

"Look, look, I have pictures of her!" Rudbeckia, ignoring Freya’s frantic attempts to stop her, pulled out a wallet from nowhere (Do wallets exist in this world? No? Luckily, Rudbeckia always carries hers, filled with photographs she took with the full consent of her beautiful albino!) and unfolded it, showing images of an albino woman with long, wavy hair, vibrant fuchsia eyes, and soft features that seemed to hold all the calm and patience of the universe.

Freya could only watch in horror as the object extended to touch the floor, and not only that, she was sure the wallet had wrapped around a nearby column. What kind of sorcery was that!?

"And what about Izek!?" Freya tried to regain some ground against Rudbeckia’s verbal onslaught.

"Who needs that Izek fellow?" Rudbeckia paused her monologue for a moment, looking at Freya as if she was the one who didn’t understand anything. A smile lit up her face, almost glowing, forcing Freya to squint. (Freya could swear she even saw hearts floating around Rudbeckia!). "I was born by my mother, and I will die for Illyana, preferably being suffocated between her thighs"

[xreaderbooks]

Paradise on Earth (15)

Chapter: 15. The Darkest Hour

Pair: JJ Maybank x Routledge! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Language and violence (drowning, choking)

Summary: JJ and Y/n visit John B in jail while also planning on how to get him out.

A/N: Are you surprised? Me too baes. Enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments. Send me a message or comment if you wanna be tagged ;)

Available on Wattpad and AO3

Masterlist - Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Rage fueled in your veins at the injustice of the system your brother had fallen victim to. John B was charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances and the possible death penalty. You sat throughout his trial, silently praying for the downfall of everyone sitting in the courtroom staring and whispering ill wishes his way.

Everything leading up to this moment had formed a deep pit that your heart just wanted to scream into. This didn’t make any sense, this wasn’t fair and the true cause of this was sitting a few feet away from you playing the part of the distraught victim. You didn’t realize you were staring and that they were taking John B away already.

There were no words of comfort that you could give him, there was no use, you would visit him as soon as he was processed into the system. Sarah called out to him and reached with her hand but was quickly pulled back by two officers standing in her path.

People filed out of the courtroom with praise to the judge and jury, grateful that ‘that criminal is finally off the streets’. Each word spoken in disrespect to your brother shortened the very short leash that your patience was on.

‘Justice is served’ ‘He had it coming’ Murmurs that were not made to be subtle were heard all around you. Each phrase made to jab at your brother was a tick in the timer of a bomb waiting to explode- you were going to explode. It wouldn’t do any good, of that you were sure, that was why you kept your mouth shut throughout the trial and as you walked outside with your friends.

Sarah's eyes and face were puffy from crying, you were sure she cried enough for the both of you, as soon as you got home you would be right next to her with tissues with matching tear streaks. “I should have never come home,” She stated.

“They’re gonna kill him, I know it” JJ commented.

“I am so sorry for what you and your family have gone through,” You heard an older kook say to Ward. “Thank God the system works.”

You turned from the direction you were walking in to face the voice that ignorantly spoke, “Can you shut up?” You walked their way and made your voice strong, “Of course, you think the system worked because it was made to protect you and people like you.”

“He’ll have his day in court and a jury will decide,” The man with peppered hair and fancy suit replied.

“He shouldn’t even be in court!” You exclaimed.

Kiara walked up from behind you a bitter look on her face, facing Ward and pointing directly at him as she spoke. “You should, ‘Cause you’re a murderer.”

You placed a hand on her shoulder and stepped forward, “You have a lot of nerve showing up to court. Showing your face while my brother is in jail with the possibility of the death penalty, because of you!”

Ward held out a hand like he was trying to calm a dog from attacking, “I know you’re upset. I understand you’re upset-”

“Upset?” You seethed. A couple of police officers had made their way to where the group that formed was standing. Against your better judgment, all the pent-up emotion came out as you lunged for Sarah’s father. “No, I’m not just upset!”

Shoupe from your left had gotten a hold of your elbow, Officer Thomas grabbed your right. They forcefully backed you up, Pope was behind you steadying you by your biceps warning Officer Thomas to get off of you. JJ, Sarah, and Kie blocked their way to you as soon as you were released.

“Why don’t you take the kooks down for a change Shoupe?” JJ asked the officer.

“You wanna get arrested?” Shoupe stared you down, He pointed at your group “Get out! You need to go.”

You saw red, you didn’t care if you went to jail or got the death penalty so long as Ward was dead. Whatever awaited him in the afterlife had better be something worse than hell for everything you and your friends had to go through. You inhaled hoping it would help the ongoing anger.

Sarah put her arm around your shoulders, “C’mon. It’s not worth it.”

“I'm so sorry, you shouldn’t be going through this,” Deputy Plumb’s voice was heard consoling the Camerons. You shook your head and rolled your eyes refusing to look over, thankfully Kie spoke up for you.

“It’s not a coincidence that your daughter’s sitting with us!”

~~~

By the time the pogues were settled in the Chateau, the weather had matched everyone's mood. It seems like everyone had gone through the five stages of grief within the hour. On the way to your house, furious comments were made by Kie and JJ in your defense, in John B’s, and on the audacity of the people who had no fucking clue what was actually going on. Silence took over for a good twenty minutes, surprisingly not a word from JJ, the only sound coming from the rain pattering on top of the roof.

“I’m gonna testify under oath, I was there” Sarah announced. “I just need to get a hold of my sister.”

“Sister?” JJ muttered under his breath.

“I was there too,” You said. “His sister and his girlfriend, they’ll discredit us without a thought Sarah.”

“We would be under oath, they can’t just arrest us if they think we’re lying. We have to try,” She responded. “Kie, Do you have your phone? Wheezie is the only other person that knows Rafe wasn’t home that day.”

“Wheezie?” JJ breathed incredulously.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Kie hands Sarah her phone. “I got us into this mess, I’m gonna do my best to get us out.”

Wheezie was a smart girl but if she was the only hope to get John B out of jail, you didn’t know if you would put all your eggs in that particular basket.

“Yeah, that’ll work.” JJ scoffed. “Well, she’s right about one thing. We gotta do something, Our boy is held captive by the enemy right now, maybe even scheduled for execution. Are we just gonna sit here?”

“What’s the plan then?” Kiara stood from the armchair in the corner of the porch. “We start by kidnapping Shoupe?”

“That’s not the worst idea actually.” The scary part is, he looked deadly serious. You couldn’t help but cackle, exhaustion and delirium were what kept you going. 

You love him, in moments like this when everything was so utterly fucked, it scared you how much the feeling overwhelmed you. The way he kept fighting for your brother made you feel safe. Although it was the most outrageous idea but that was JJ.

Kie and JJ stopped their bickering to give you an odd look, the silence and a full minute of laughing like a crazy person to the point of tears falling out of the corners of your eyes, you stabilized yourself. You wiped the tears from the corner of your eyes.

“That is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” You told the blue-eyed boy.

“It’s pretty bad.” Sarah agreed from inside the house as she typed away at Kie’s phone.

“Just stay out of this, okay?” JJ’s annoyance with Sarah was obvious.

“No, honestly though,” Pope’s features were stern. “What is the actual plan? You’re gonna storm a jail, guns a-blazing?”

“All I’m trying to get you to understand is they got our boy,” Pope and JJ are face to face now. “Are just gonna sit here and do nothing? No! We’re gonna get his ass, we’re gonna do something about it!”

The enthusiasm was encouraged but so was logical thinking. You watched as Pope tried to keep JJ from ‘thinking’ out his plans.

“We’re not storming a jail, it’s not happening.”

“Fine, man. Sit in your comfy chair and do nothing.” He looked you in the eye in full seriousness, an invitation to follow him in his plan yet his words trying to shame you all for not wanting to take immediate action. “I’m gonna see what I can do, make something happen. Even if I have to do it by myself.”

JJ runs out of the front porch, straight for his bike.

“Should we be worried?” Pope asks.

“Yes,” Kie sighs and shrugs. “I’m gonna git up my parents and see if I can get money for a lawyer.”

You decide to let Kie and Pope talk amongst themselves about the logistics and go after JJ was sitting on his bike, almost like he was waiting for you.

“Change your mind, Princess?” He takes off his cap and places it on your head to shield you from the rain even though it’s pointless now.

You swing your leg over the bike to straddle it and wrap your arms around his waist. “Just go before I change it again.”

~~~

“Now where exactly are you taking us?” You say in his ear as he whips past all his cars on his bike.

“We’re going to visit a certain jailbird!”

You weren’t sure if it was even allowed considering it had only been hours since he was sentenced but you knew that JJ would find a way.

Turns out his plan was fucking stupid, not reckless for once, and for that, you were thankful but definitely stupid. He parked by a tree in front of the Kildare County detention center, and two officers walked down the steps and right past the both of you. JJ being extra, stood at attention and saluted them as they walked. You look at him annoyed and he simply smiles, you push him in front to follow his lead.

JJ did some thoughtless acts but Jesus he looked good doing them. He stopped by his house to change from his wet clothes that were soaked from the rain to a pair of dry jeans and a clean white shirt. He also grabbed his headphones and mp3 player. He fixed his hair, put on a pair of sunglasses and suddenly he was giving James Dean. It was bad timing for your heart to stutter the way it did when you saw him change his shirt in front of you as if you hadn’t seen him shirtless before.

It was over when he pulled out a shirt- your shirt- from deep within his messy closet. It was from when you slept over that one time, you must have left it here and forgot to pack it. The moment felt so domestic, too domestic, it messed with your emotions and you already have too many with everything going on.

You trained yourself to focus on the task at hand, ignoring the wrongness you felt from the sleepover with JJ and then actually having sex with Rafe (with some feelings that you’d rather not get into), the treasure, John B in jail… it was all too much.

“We’re here to see John B Routledge,” JJ said loudly. He had his headphones on with the volume to his music all the way up.

“No music, and get rid of the toothpick.” The man at the front desk enunciated his words.

“I can’t hear what you’re saying man, these things are on full blast.” JJ tapped on his headphones, not caring at all what the officer had to say. “We’re here to see John B Routledge.”

The officer looked to you, “Can you get your friend to take his headphones off? There’s no music allowed and you both need to clear your pockets if you wanna see the inmate.”

“Can do, sir.” You place your empty wallet that only had a couple of bucks and your permit, and your phone (that was dead). “He, unfortunately, has a mind of his own.”

He took a breath and mimed what he wanted JJ to do, taking off the headphones and toothpick.

JJ glanced at you then at the man and took off the headphones hanging them around his neck, “I mean, I thought it was a free country and all but I guess you don’t like freedom very much. Now do you, cupcake?” He smiled slyly, leaning on the desk with his forearm.

Now you supposed you shouldn’t be surprised by what he had the balls to say but your jaw fell open anyway, you covered your mouth and looked around to see if anyone else had heard that.

Turns out the Officer had enough of JJ toying with him and took JJ by his biceps and pinned him to the wall. You picked at your nail nervously, until the Deputy came and told the front desk guy that it wasn’t worth it.

JJ kept a wide smile as he saw her, “Good to see you Plumb. Nice to have something in your mouth, you know.”

“Take off your hat and empty your pockets.”

“Yes, ma’am.” JJ finally did what was told and placed his things next to yours winking at you when Plumb led the way to where you can see John B.

You flinched as you passed by a prisoner who slammed a fist on the window of his cell. He called out to you, “Why don’t you come in here?”

Next to you, JJ guided you to go in front of him through the threshold of the visitation area, Plumb told you both that you only had five minutes.

There he was, in an orange jumpsuit, wrists in cuffs. You wanted to hug him, tell him it was gonna be okay and that you were gonna get him out of this. The only one of those things you were gonna be able to do is the latter and only if you were able to figure out a plan which you didn’t have.

You sat to John B’s right, getting a good look at him now, his eye was still bruised from the beating they gave him when he was first arrested. The anger came bubbling back that formed in tears until you all looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“I thought it was gonna be me,” JJ chuckled.

“I think we all did,” You sniffed.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

“When you said you had a new apartment, I had no idea,” JJ fidgeted with the visitation card they handed you both as you were officially signed in to visit.

You patted the top of the metal table, “It’s cozy. A little aluminum theme.”

“Yeah, I like to go for the cold, dark…”

“Alone, kind of theme?” JJ continued John B’s description for him, they nodded in sync. “Look, I would love to sit and chitchat but I’m on the clock and I’m here for one reason only, okay?”

Your eyes widened as you thought about the jailbreak idea JJ was playing with earlier. Was this it?

“Operation liberation, baby.” You facepalmed once the words came out of his mouth.

“Hear me out though, step one; piss off the cops so badly they don’t see what’s coming.” He waved at an officer that walked by the window looking in. “Check.”

“Was that what that whole thing was?” You slapped his arm, “A warning would have been nice.”

“Your right, I could’ve used some backup but your reaction was hilarious so it’s fine,” JJ was delusional. You ignored the fact that he really thought he was gonna pull this off as he laid out his plan. “Step two; at exactly 11 p.m. this evening, you’re going to have an attack of acute appendicitis.”

John B looked like he was doing the same thing you were, “Do you even know what appendicitis is?”

JJ’s pupils were dilated as he explained, “Remember eighth grade, algebra final?”

“Jesus Christ,” John B breathed. JJ faked appendicitis once before a test in eighth grade and was able to get away with it and this was the plan he was going with. You were glad you knew how it worked to visit JB in jail now since you were gonna have to get used to the process.

“It worked like a charm, to sell it, you gotta actually look sick though okay?” Not an ounce of a joke was heard in his voice. “You got some of that ghost face sunblock in here?”

“Be so fucking for real right now,” You kept your face in your hands stressfully, your head shaking in disbelief.

“JJ, I’m in jail. I have a block of soap, that’s it.”

“Is it white?”

Hesitantly John B replied “Yes-”

“Perfect, that’ll work. Take some of that, rub it into your face well, got it? You don’t want that shit rubbing off when they check your vitals.” JJ added. “After that, run your hands under cold water for five minutes. After that, you’re ready. Showtime baby, stumble out and collapse. Once you’re down on the ground squealing, they’ll rush you to the infirmary. There, you just have to convince the nurse that that sucker’s about to burst.”

He began to visually show John B the details of where the nurse will check him, John B’s acting skills would have to be absolutely flawless and without any doubt to pull all that off.

“I get it, I get it.” John B glances behind his shoulder and leans in closer, “Then what?”

“No fucking way, John B,” You stare at him in disbelief. “JJ he’s not doing this.”

JJ didn’t acknowledge you, “They’re gonna eject you to the hospital. Remember Cousin Ricky?”

“The weed dealer?” You questioned.

“He’s an EMT.”

“He sold us our first dime bag,” John B mentions.

“So? You can do both. It’s a gig economy, bro.” JJ shrugs. “Now, step three is extraction.”

“This is the dumbest freaking idea you’ve ever had.” John B states, at least you weren’t the only one thinking it.

“Yeah, you’re probably right but you know what’s even more dumb? You thinking you got any other way out of this.”

“JJ, this is a fortress.” John B explains, “They've got barbed wire, cinder blocks, guards on every corner-”

JJ stops John B from shutting him down further. “Don’t, you’re not the detail guy. Leave it to the professionals.”

“If you think that we’re the professionals in this you’re so mistaken,” You shake your head in disapproval.

Plumb was by the door telling you both that your time with your brother was up.

“You gotta trust me on this one,” JJ says and moves out of his seat giving John B his last words. “Nothing to lose now, 11 P.M.”

John B stares at you with a silent question, you squeeze his hand before leaving the visitation area behind JJ. Plumb led you down an unfamiliar path to the exit. She scans her badge before opening a metal door, JJ goes through first and goes towards another door to the right. It was an inmate basketball court, his dad was dribbling and blocking against another prisoner.

“Dad!” JJ pounds on the door trying to get Luke’s attention. “Dad!”

“Let’s go,” Plumb shoves JJ away from the door. If you didn’t know any better you would say she brought you both this way on purpose to get a rise of him. It was her way of giving him a sign that said ‘You could just as easily end up here.’

Seems like JJ caught on as well, he clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly as he noted, “I see what you did there Plumb.”

Your jaw tightened as you saw the way she was handling JJ, forcing him out of the center. “I just have one question before we leave. How much are you splitting with Shoupe?”

She shoved you harshly into JJ, “You’ll be back here one day, both of you. It’s in your blood.”

JJ started to walk away defeated but you wouldn’t, you couldn’t. This wasn’t what your life would be, not yours, not JJ’s. John B was wrongly accused and JJ was not his dad, “Fuck you, bi-”

“Y/n, come on.” JJ put his hand on the small of your back to lead you away from the officer who was meant to ‘protect and serve’.

“What a bitch!” You spat. The nerve of her, you had taunted her but deep down you knew that she was probably getting a major payday from Ward. Instead of letting you see your brother in peace, she just had to bring you down even further as if she wasn’t breaking major laws. “She’s a hypocrite JJ, she's not a fucking fortune teller to tell us what our future will look like.”

He didn’t say anything in response solely making sure you were ready before revving up the bike and driving away from the detention center.

~~~

You told him you weren’t going to join him in his plans, he looked disappointed but since he was off from earlier he left you at the Chateau without a fight. You felt guilty knowing JJ definitely had a lack of support but you would only be a hindrance to the plan if you did go along with it. Instead, you found Sarah in one of John B’s shirts already several feet away from the house.

You ran up to her and asked her if she got in contact with Wheezie to which she said she was on her way to meet her.

“We’re here,” She whispered to herself clutching her gunshot wound as she checked the other side of the dock.

Wheezie apparently had texted her to meet her at the harbor. You went straight and paused, Rafe came around the corner. “Sarah,” You said in a small voice backing away slowly.

“Nah not wheezie.”

“Where the hell is Wheezie?” Sarah questioned from behind you.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rafe stepped closer with his hands half up in surrender. “Listen, it’s all good. I- I just needed to talk to you for a little bit.”

The stutter in his voice concerned you, he was out of it and it was only you and Sarah out here on the docks at night with this psychopath. Every step he took to close the distance between the three of you, you and Sarah held hands and stepped away.

“Is that okay?” He asked looking at you and then at Sarah. He reached for you “Y/n-”

“Don’t come near me,” You held your hand out in front of you defensively.

He sighed and focused his attention on Sarah, “What you do affects me, you don’t think of that, do you?”

“You shot me, Rafe.”

“That’s it, right?” He exasperated. “It’s always my fault like you know, I wanna keep what’s mine. That I got by my work and I’m the bad guy for trying to- to hold on to it?”

His pacing and waving of his hands while he talks make it clear that he’s unhinged. In comparison to the way, you and Sarah are frozen in your spots waiting for Rafe to make one move.

“It’s not yours,” Sarah tries to express.

“Like I’m wrong to protect what’s mine, huh?” His voice raises a couple more octaves. Chills run up your arms at his projection. Your mind takes you back to the night you spent together and you suddenly feel nauseous. His voice softens as he approaches Sarah, “Listen to me. The cops are going to talk to you and I need to make sure the story’s straight.”

Sarah speaks up, “You killed Peterkin. My story’s straight, listen this would go so much better for you if you would-”

His eyes roll to the back of his head in a lazy drug hazed way, “Who are you trying to protect here?”

“I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“You doing the right thing is the reason that you got shot because you were following John B.”

“John B might get the death penalty because of you!” She snaps.

“That!” Rafe points as he backs away and sits on a barrel. “That right there is exactly what I’m talking about Sarah, you’ve always been against me!”

She shakes her head, no, A threatening tone takes over “Don’t shake your head, you still are. You’re not just against me, you’re against us and you know, Dad always takes your side. Cause you’re gonna cry in front of him like you cried in front of me, but you- both of you listen to me. I am a proactive type of person and we have a problem, and I gotta solve that problem tonight.”

You glance at Sarah who’s shaking where she stands, you inch to the right, and Rafe follows your movement with his eyes.

“Do you understand?” He asks then shouts it at the both of you again, “Do you understand!”

You and Sarah took that as the queue to run. He runs after you, you were faster as you got a headstart but that meant that Sarah got caught by Rafe. He slammed her against a large blue plastic container that held water.

“Rafe!” You screamed, “Rafe!”

“Back off Y/n, I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

You heard Sarah begging Rafe to stop, you ran back and tried to push him off of her but with one hand he backhands you to the ground.

With a hand on your left cheek, he made you bleed with a ring he was wearing, “You’re drowning your sister!”

“She’s not my sister!” He shouted back at you with a harsh tone. “Not anymore.”

Sarah’s tears flowed freely, she let out a whimper as he tightened his grip on her throat. “Rafe, please.” You begged.

“Y/n I swear to god!” His voice was close to a growl.

“You swear to God what?” You lifted yourself up from the ground and came closer to where Rafe was drowning Sarah. You were hoping to bait him into letting Sarah go and focus his attention on you. If he was distracted enough to taunt you or hurt you then maybe Sarah would have a chance to breathe. “You’d hurt me? Cause you already have, Rafe.”

He screams as Sarah struggles, she gasps with two seconds of air before she is submerged again.

You try to pry him off of her but he releases her instead and grabs your wrists as he had many times before. “I would never hurt you, Y/n, she brought this on herself!”

His fingers were white and you felt your bones being compressed from his hold. His nails were digging into your skin making you want to kneel and clutch your arms but he was too strong. Sarah was free and coughing up the water in her lungs, exhausted from her fight. His right hand comes up and clutches your throat.

“I loved you,” You whispered.

His forehead was on yours, stray fell from his eye and onto your cheek, “I love you too, Y/n.”

You kept his eyes trained on yours without giving him doubt despite the fact that you were getting strangled by your former lover. You attempted to breathe air but the hold he had on your throat prevented your airways from being able to inhale properly.

Topper- who you had no idea where he came from- has a finger to his lips as he inches closer and whacks him in the head.

Rafe fell onto his back and you wheeze, able to breathe again, you go to Sarah who holds an arm out for you.

“Sarah, are you okay?” Topper rushes to her side and asks her, “Can you breathe?”

She nods and hugs him, your hands were on your knees, and you look at Rafe on the ground and sob. All your previous moments with him, your confession to him, his confession to you. What had just happened. He drowned Sarah and strangled you while confessing to being in love with you.

You felt nausea come back up again, you couldn’t hold it. Your insides came up and out through your mouth, you vomited in the dark water at the edge of the dock.

~~~

Next Chapter

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[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

Ed!! For DADWC: "aloe being slathered on a sunburn" for Shaesa/Alistair?

Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu for sending this prompt Gin! (For context, one of you lovely people sent me this ask a hot minute ago and I had it marked as one I wanted to do only for me to realize I must have somehow deleted it :((( so im sorry for losing your prompt but thank you for sending it regardless!!!! Hope you enjoy!!!)

for @dadrunkwriting

Rated T: for very very slight innuendos, slice of life, romance, comedy, ~2.2k words (yeah idk how that happened in one night either)

Maybe Days | By Exalted_Dawn

“Uh… so not to ask what we have all been wondering, but may I ask why are you walking like that?” Zevran’s voice cut their travel pace just as efficiently as any one of his daggers. Sharp and pinpointed as always. And a little too mirthful to mean anything good, in Alistair's opinion.

Shaesa turned stiffly to face him, scowling and square as a sign. “Like what?” 

“That,” he said, tipping his head to look at her from head to toe. “You have been shuffling for the past half-hour. You look like you are walking with a reasonably-sized stick shoved up your behind,” he said. “Are you in need of a rest? I could massage you, if you like. Your shoulders in particular look rather-” He reached a hand out to rest on Shae’s shoulder, and Alistair nearly tripped in his stumbling flail backwards as Shae jolted and scrambled out from beneath Zevran’s touch.

“What the fuck, Zev?!” she barked, looking almost white as a sheet as she wheeled around to glare at the man. “Don’t startle me like that. I almost pulled a sword on you.” 

Zevran and Alistair both stared at her in bewilderment, Zevran in particular. Even Alistair knew that that wasn’t much of an excuse– Zevran had been about as subtle as a drunken druffalo in his approach to that one. 

Still though, she insisted on glowering at them with undisguised, near-righteous offense.

Raising a brow, Zevran strode forward again, his hand one again raised to try and touch Shaesa’s arm, but this time she waddled backwards before he even got within a foot of her. Then he tried again, only for her to duck and spin away entirely. It was obvious now, as Alistair watched, that her movements were distinctly stiff and uncomfortable.

He frowned. “Shae?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. “Not that I don’t think we need it, but surely there are better times to be practicing your dance moves for the Landsmeet? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s nothing! I’m fine!” she snapped, scurrying away to the left this time. A bemused, but ultimately unmotivated Zevran easily trotted after her. 

Alistair wasn’t convinced. “Shae, if you’re injured-” 

“I’m not,” she growled, turning her ire onto him. “I’m just a bit-”

Zevran’s hand clamped down again on Shae’s shoulder, and she practically yelped, smacking Zev’s hand away and cowering back like a wounded cat. Suddenly, the assassin’s face blossomed into a wide, bob cat’s grin. “Aha! You did get sunburned during yesterday’s sparring match, didn’t you?!” he exclaimed, finally releasing Shae with a laugh. She glared up at him, and Alistair could see actual tears in her eyes as she tenderly prodded at the spot that had grabbed her with her fingers. Zevran tutted a little, nudging her in her arm with his elbow. “Did not Wynne warn you about the dangers of sparring sleeveless? You didn’t listen to her?”

Shaesa pouted at him weakly. “It was hot out and I was sweating too much. I didn’t want to soak my sleeves through.”

“Nothing but pitiful excuses,” Zevran hummed blithely. Alistair nearly pointed out that Zevran was hardly one to talk, considering how… exposed he regularly insisted on being. But then, he’d never seen the elf with a burn either, so he wasn’t sure if that was an argument that would win once made. Zevran continued. “Regardless, you should see to it that the burn is treated. We will still be on the road for some time, and you wouldn’t want it to get infected further. I have some soothing gel– if you would like, we can find you some privacy and I could-”

“No.” 

It was his own voice that barked out louder and more suddenly than even Shaesa’s, who he had practically yelled over in his rush to shoot down Zevran’s suggestion. Suddenly, the area they had been traversing seemed suddenly far too quiet.

Shaesa and Zevran both stared at him in surprise. Maker, even he was thrown off by his own interruption.

Alistair shuffled, his face heating uncomfortably. “W-What I meant to say is that I won’t leave you alone with her. You may have agreed to join our cause, but don’t think I have forgotten the contract that sent you to us. It would be reckless to let Shaesa go off alone into the wilds with someone hired to kill her.” 

Especially if she was meant to… expose herself to him. Alistair swallowed, and viciously shoved away the images that thought conjured to mind. 

But if Zevran was offended by his excuse made in haste, then he didn’t show it. The Crow smiled wide, raising his hands in mock surrender and taking a very clearly advertised step sideways, away from Shae. “Ah- my apologies. I did not mean to cause any alarm. Your fears are well founded.”

Shaesa made a face. “Zev-”

He held up his hand again, shushing Shae before she could even begin. He continued. “Of course, if you would like to volunteer to help our fantastically fried friend here, I would be more than happy to lend you the salve.” As if to prove a point, he deftly produced a small, metal tin from his hip pouch and waved it between two fingers.

He wasn’t sure which of them looked more horrified– him or Shae.

“What?!” he quacked, his face now almost the same shade as Shae’s. “No. I-”

“Then you would let our beloved leader suffer for the entire trip back to camp?” Zevran pressed, faking innocence.

Shaesa hissed. ““Zevran.”

“Of course not!” Alistair said at the same time, the both of them sounding several shades of scandalized.

“Then I see no issue here!” Zevran finished happily, tossing the lotion to Alistair. The latter only barely caught it, but by the time it was firmly in grasp, Zevran was already walking away. “I swear, you Fereldans and your modesty,” he tutted, batting his hand at an imaginary annoyance. “Whenever you two are finished, I will be over here by this tree, resting and enjoying the shade while I can.”

As though to prove his point, he collapsed onto a bed of shadowed grass and shut his eyes with a contented sigh, the sound a strikingly effective bookend to the conversation. Shae and Alistair were left speechless. 

Left to their own devices, they eyed each other nervously, neither wanting to make the first move. But with Zevran firmly planted in his spot, it was clear there would be no easy way of backing out of this. 

Shae shrugged a shoulder, gesturing to a nearby copse of trees, and without much else to do, Alistair nodded and followed after her. The trunks of the trees didn’t provide nearly enough cover for Alistair’s liking, but then, he doubted that even a private, locked room would calm the pounding of his heart. This was ridiculous. Of course, he didn’t want Shaesa to be in pain– they still had almost an hour more of walking until they neared camp– but still, surely there was a better solution than-

Shaesa cleared her throat, her eyes forward as she methodically shrugged out of her coat-sleeves, revealing a thin-strapped, cream chemise underneath. “Sorry about that,” she began, a touch of tired frustration to her voice, even as she flashed him a grin. “Seems being a busy-body is an elven thing everywhere, even in Antiva. I’ll yell at him about it later.” She finished ridding herself of the overgarment, her muscles flexing and rolling as she set the quilted blue jacket aside. 

Alistair frowned.

The whole of her back was a blistered, bright red. Skin peeled where her bones jutted and he could see spots where the burns had been rubbed raw. It looked bad. Worse than bad. 

Shaesa shifted a bit, flashing him an uneasy look. He had been staring. 

Alistair flushed, though for a different reason now, and his attention quickly dropped back to the tin in his hand. “Don’t trouble yourself. I doubt any amount of thrashing will force manners through his head,” Alistair murmured, his throat still a bit tight. The lid of the jar popped open after a moment of fiddling, and almost delicately, Alistair dragged his fingers through the clear, white goo. “You’re sure you’re okay with me doing this?” he asked, trying not to sound unwilling. “I can… try to look away, if you’d prefer?”

She merely laughed a little. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you not go blindly poking at my very sore back. I don’t mind it, Alistair. I trust you.” 

The way those words made his stomach tumble probably should have been more alarming to him, but unable and now a bit unwilling to back away from that edge. Not with Shaesa’s encouragement at least. 

Laden with salve, he reached out, and carefully touched his fingers to her skin.

Immediately, Shaesa bit out a sharp hiss and flinched. “Ah fuck, that’s freezing,” she laughed, and immediately dispersing any worries Alistair had of hurting her. He continued, allowing his hand to drag downward, leaving a stripe of ointment that stretched from her nape to the hem of her low-cut top. 

Her skin was scalding. Even through the film of salve, he could feel the way it burned at his fingertips as he steadily applied attention to the spots he deemed needed it most. It felt almost fevered, but somehow hotter than even that, and he had to keep himself from wincing when he thought about how much it must have been hurting her for this entire time. If he had known, Alistair never would have let her come out with them to collect water.

“Sweet Andraste, Shae, why didn’t you say anything?” The ointment applied, he began carefully working it into her skin, and tried desperately not to think about how often he had imagined doing something like this. Her beauty marks seemed to jeer at him, coming in and out of view as his palms passed along the planes of her back. Strong and sturdy, but somehow stately. Like the stocky war horses Eamon kept at the stables. 

Though, even with his abysmal experience, Alistair knew better than to share that thought aloud. Not unless he wanted a sunburnt fist to the face, at least. 

Shaesa shrugged. “Because I’m stubborn and ox-headed?” she suggested. 

A grin pulled at his lips. “I was thinking ‘prouder than one of those prissy, Orlesian lap cats.’” An elbow was driven into his stomach, rightfully so. He barked a laugh. “And catty too. Clearly.”

The woman in front of him snorted, but even from where he stood behind her, he could see the way her ears flexed as she smiled. “Careful. I might be sunburned, but it doesn’t mean I won’t still throw you on your ass, Alistair.”

“I would be a fool to forget it,” he agreed, taking no pains to hide the warmth of affection in his voice when he said it. 

His hands rounded her shoulders, gliding up the curve of her neck before dropping back down to pass over the length of her arms. And it would be a lie to say that he didn’t revel a bit in the way she shivered as he did it. Maybe…

“Alright,” he said, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “You have been properly attended to, my Lady. At least well enough to withstand Wynne’s lectures once she finds out about this when we return.” 

Shaesa stiffly bent to pick up her jacket and, seeing her struggle to maneuver her arms into the sleeves, Alistair helped her into it. She picked at it irritably, pulling at the spots that stuck to her from the salve. “Thank you,” she said at last. “That admittedly feels much better.” 

He grinned. “Just doing my duty to solidify my place as ‘Most Useful Companion’.” 

“Well seeing as how you saved my life from Zevran’s dubious intentions and sun poisoning, I would say you’re off to a pretty good start,” she hummed. “A few more months, and maybe you’ll begin to catch up with Fen.”

“Ouch,” he hissed, clutching at his chest in mock-pain. But he could not fight the smile on his face. She began to turn towards the road, and gladly he followed. “I’m losing to the one who licks his own arse in his downtime?”

“Hey– I don’t see you guarding my tent at night.”

“I could,” he offered, too quickly. He only realized what it sounded like after he said it. “...If that was what you wanted.”

But to either his relief or disappointment, she simply snorted. “Now you’re sounding like Zevran.” 

“Oh, so we’re using real insults now?” he shot back. 

She laughed, shaking her head. It really was such a pretty sound.

“But maybe,” she said, letting her eyes flick up to his playfully. He almost didn’t catch it. 

Ahead of them, the brush began to thin, and Alistair could see the road, and the tree beyond where Zevran was undoubtedly still waiting, his arms folded beneath his head where he lay stretched out like an alley cat.

“Maybe…?” he echoed distractedly. His gaze touched hers in confusion.

She grinned brightly, and the smile stretched all the way to the corners of her eyes. And, to Alistair’s utter shock, she actually winked at him. 

“Maybe.”

[tryingtimi]

44 👀

The Crimson Masquerade

One of my favourite songs from NBT, so thank you for the number!❤️ It also helped me finish a piece I started a hundred years ago. This was originally written to this drabble challenge, and it was a nice little time with Lonel and the crew. Plus, I got to explore some of the Phobia too, so it's a winner for sure.

Small Context: Lonel, Selys and Odena go to the Phobia to gather information on vampire activites, after Odena found out about vampirism and werewolves and was adamant on going with the boys.

DYNAMIC AND ENVIRONEMNT EXPLORATION | NON-CANON | WC: 2,278

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”

Odena held back a smile as she squeezed on Lonel’s forearm. They stopped at the entrance of the ballroom—the biggest room the Phobia held within. Curving concrete twisted into silky fabrics hanging loosely on the walls, and red lightning painted everything into a sensual mystery of the night. The dark, sparkling decoration brought a sinister touch to the environment.

Wicked shadows chased the lights on every idling, masked person’s face.

“The best disguise is standing in plain sight, is it not?” Selys asked, still holding out the wolf mask to Lonel. He ignored the other’s subtle snarling, keeping an oblivious smile on his lips. “Besides, it suits you, wolf. You can rip my head off if it doesn’t work.”

“Don’t tempt me, hellspawn.”

“As much as I enjoy watching bickering men tearing at each other, we should start mingling, don’t we, gentlemen?” Odena offered, putting up her own mask: a beautifully crafted hummingbird with feathers that felt too real to the touch, and a small, gilded beak adorned with gemstones. It was a masterpiece of a true craftsman, just like every other one that VIP attendants handed out to guests.

“The lady is right, of course.” Selys mimicked her, placing the horned, hardened paper over his face. Its red matched with the lightning, and the colours of the Phobia. “Shall we then?”

He gestured with his hand, eyes creased deeply from his now-hidden smile. Lonel huffed, snatching the wolf mask away, and putting up with a disapproving grunt. The creation did fit him, actually. Detailed to the sharp point of the carved fangs, it was no less a sight to the laical eye.

Odena hooked back her arm into Lonel’s as they walked deeper into the enemy’s den.

They earned — very proficiently disguised — glances with their pause, but none of the people seemed to think too much into it. Staying alert, however, never hurt anyone. Therefore Odena pulled out her filigrane cigarettes gifted by Selys and offered one to Lonel as well.

“Thanks,” he said, distaste evident in his tone.

Her smoke slipped through her teeth as she smiled at him, the nearly translucent, forming and disappearing shapes crawling to the thin cloud that occupied the rest of the ceiling.

“And how should we know which one is your kind?”

Lonel emphasised the last words with syrupy venom in his throat. He might have accepted Selys, but not the other… vampires.

Odena found it still odd to name such creatures with certainty.

“You’ll know. This way,” Selys led them to a table packed with bite-sized tasters and tarts. Overwhelming perfume and incense clouds lingered in the air since they stepped into the club, yet here the scent of food finally overruled it. One could nearly taste the salmon salt and lemon sour, champagne sweet and absinthe bitter with every breath. She was glad for that humble dinner they ate before coming so her focus wouldn’t falter. Selys began filling up his plate. “They’re preying, and outnumber the warmbloods. I’m positive you both can spot predators on a hunt.”

Odena ran her gaze over the crowd, careful not to make eye contact with anyone longer than a few seconds. She felt Lonel’s biceps tense a little under her palm, so she gave it a reassuring squeeze. Not that he would need it, she knew him too well to believe it could calm him. But it was something, and it helped her ignore the name Sleys addressed them with.

She took a plate, and packed some fruit and cheese at it, letting Lonel handle the drinks. Orange and red reflectors rushed to embrace them, then slid onward without a goodbye. The sensual, quiet music played relentlessly somewhere above. Odena could barely see the food in the dimness of the room, so she did her best to follow Lonel’s forever advice and let her nose guide her.

A man walked beside her, reaching for another glass of drink.

“Good evening,” he said, clear intention in his voice. Odena turned to him, alongside Lonel and Selys. The man wore a black tuxedo over his wine-red shirt and vest. Chest covered with frizzled cotton, corn blond hair freely flowing onto his shoulders. He looked as if he had stepped out of one of Selys paintings in his manor. “Who are your lovely guests Dumwermere?”

“Mr and Mrs Morninger. A pleasure to meet you, sir,” Odena initiated, offering her hand which the man took with clear amusement. It was the coldest kiss ever planted on her skin.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Lonel’s arm tensed again, pulling it out from her grip and rather resting a hand on her waist. He did not offer a handshake to the man, but after a hidden poke in his side, he nodded as a greeting. The skin creased softly around one of the man’s eyes underneath the gilded fox mask, gaze steady on Lonel’s face. He kept staring with a smile as if he mused about a secret irony.

Selys continued, polite, yet distant. “They’re old workmates of mine. Mr and Mrs Morninger, this is Silvenus Galhart, the Phobia’s event manager. The praise you’ve showered me about the interior Mrs Morninger, they all shall go to him.”

“Oh, marvellous job, Mr Galhart. I’m thoroughly impressed.” Odena mimicked a smile sweet enough. She hoped for an opportunity to pry, but Silvenus simply bowed his head a touch, sipping from his drink.

“You flatter me, my lady. But it’s still early. I should only get a hold of my musicians so the evening could bloom into its full form.”

Odena caught a peek of the moderate stage in the belly of the club. A varnished guitar body and cymbals glinted around the three figures shuffling around the pedestal. The blackness of the stage was lost in the shadowed corner they were put into, making the people above glide on nothing but pure, thick darkness. Lonel joined her gaze for a second.

“Aren’t they out there?” he asked.

Silvenus inclined his brow in what seemed like well-contained irritation. “Only half of them. Our frontman and lead guitarist vanished into thin air, and we’re about to start in ten minutes.”

His tight tone told Odena that it wasn’t exactly the first time they might have done this. Silvenus, also, was surprisingly talkative. She assumed he might be rather ashamed of difficulties concerning the event, yet he didn’t give any indication of that. He simply looked as someone who had had enough.

“That’s tough. Are they playing tributes or originals?”

Lonel’s continuing question earned a subtle look from both Selys and Odena. His body was still tense as ever, yet he sounded nothing short of calm. There was the slightest hint of his distaste from earlier, but that was barely perceptible too. She took a drag from her cigarette, trying to figure out where he was heading — and why. Silvenus, on the other hand, had rearranged his face into the amused expression from before.

“Triubtes for tonight. Some of our guests might not be familiar with their work otherwise, given the large number of new faces,” he said, creasing his brows over his mask, and offering a darkly curious stare. “Forgive me, if I’m frank, but I feel like you have a proposition for me, Mr. Morninger.”

Odena did have the exact same feeling.

The music overhead began to quiet ever so slowly. A sign that the start was near, perhaps. Silvenus glanced up when the lights began to dim, then brighten again.

Lonel put out his smoke on the closest glass ashtray, and his hand pulled Odena a touch closer with a gentle tug.

“If you need people, I can get around a guitar, and she was the lead singer back at home in our school band. We’re also familiar with all the big hits of the last decade, so we could fill in for the time being.”

“A musical couple, I see,” Silvenus purred in a suddenly deeply intrigued manner. He conjured a wide, yet somehow sharp smile on his face. “It must have been fate that brought us together tonight then. It would be much help, if you could do that, Mr. and Mrs. Morninger. Alongside a fair compensation for your trouble, of course.”

Surprise would have been an understatement to what Odena was struck with. She kept her face friendly, nodding along, but she moulded into Lonel’s side sharp as a sign to elaborate on his train of thought immediately when the opportunity arose.

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought what a turn this event would take,” Selys commented, his words edged with jest for the public ear. “Although I had the pleasure of hearing them both in their respective roles separately, and I must say, they are definitely great candidates, Silvenus.”

Lonel spared a sharp glance at Selys, but only for a moment.

Silvenus put his palms together when the next dimming and brightening danced through the room, glancing towards the stage this time. “Excellent, wonderful. I’d like to ask for a minute then, to talk to the present members. Just a minute.” And with that, he slipped into the shadows of the half-lit ballroom.

Odena leaned towards Lonel’s shoulder, half turning to Selys too. “Would you please let in on us, too?”

She let her voice drip with a hint of her awakening frustration. She didn’t mind trying something with more risk, but she was never for improvisation. Not this kind, anyway.

Selys drew up a brow in support of her question.

“He must have been one of him.” Lonel scratched at his short beard, a habit Odena knew to be a nervous movement since he could grow it out. “And he seemed the type who could get us to the rest of them. If not, then the attention will.”

“Always an advantage to make the enemy owe you,” Selys smiled in impressed agreement.

On the far end, Silvenus’s faint figure seemed to finish talking to the assembled band members. His mask gleamed wickedly in the light while he turned to them, gesturing something Odean couldn’t see, but interpreted as an inviting motion. Her skin prickled from the possibility that he might see them clearly even through the shadowed distance.

“If they’re not trapping us first.” Her words met with a half-lidded, waiting set of eyes from Lonel. “Keep the possibility that he realised what and who we are. Just to stay alert.”

A small smile — barely but a smirk, really, found Lonel’s lips. “Look at you preaching caution, after dragging us here in the first place.”

They made their way to the stage, leaving Selys behind, and pushing through bodies at some points. It didn’t go unnoticed how Lonel made way to her with his hands, paying attention to that none of them touched her if it wasn’t necessary.

“I’ve had a great mentor to learn from,” she said, matching his casually accusatory tone nonetheless. It should have been evident that none of them were to sit around and wait until Selys alone figured something out. Not with all at stake.

They climbed backstage, joining the figures waiting in the ominous darkness of the curtains. Silvenus wore a dark smile, but a welcoming posture.

“Band, they would be your mates for the next forty-five minutes, the least. Go easy on them.” He then turned to Lonel and Odena. “Thank you for your offer, again. I’ll make sure our people are here until you finish, and after that, your food, drink and entertainment will be on the Phobia.”

“That is most generous of you, Mr Galhart.”

Odena reciprocated his smile, seeking a hold in Lonel’s warm touch on her back. Her mind clouded just a touch, yet it cleared as soon as it came. So, the cigarette truly neutralised mindreading from the vampires, just as Selys claimed. That, at least, was a relief.

However, it also confirmed Lonel’s previous statement about Silvenus.

“Alright, warm up to each other as much as possible before we start, and make the evening shine,” was the last thing Silvenus said, before he departed to the front.

The three members eyed them with a united gaze that bordered on curiosity and disdain. Two men and a woman, dressed in what seemed a fusion of blackened leather and dark satin. The harsh, expressive make-up on their faces only sharpened their look.

The woman stepped forth first, a gum livid between her teeth.

“Which one of you sings?” she asked in a rather soft voice. It did not go much with the look.

Odena stepped forward, extending a hand. “Livia Morninger, nice to meet you.”

“A delight.” She looked down at her hand, then back at her face. “Sing for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sing for me. We need to check if you match with tonight’s tone. If not, that gruff should do behind you.”

Odena retreated her tongue from her cheeks which she pushed into, and met the woman’s nonchalant eyes. If they wanted to get rid of her, then they should do better than that. She inhaled softly and began a song she couldn’t get out of her head when she first started to wonder about joining the school band. Her voice came out rusty and in clear need of oiling. But, it wasn’t half bad. She sang the lyrics, hitting most of the notes clearly, and the others a touch twisted, yet not breaking the harmony. She added her own flair to many parts, even those that she experimented with the family during holidays.

In the end, the two men stepped beside the woman too.

Odena’s throat dried out, not used to such a use anymore. She felt Lonel’s presence beside her, close and ready.

The woman shrugged, nodding towards the water bottles on a little stool, while the shorter of the men handed Lonel an electronic guitar. “Good enough. I’m Marcelin, this is Jerico,” she gestured to the tall, lanky man. Then towards the shorter, bulkier one. “And that is Bichtra. Here’s the setlist. Study it, while we tune in, and follow our lead outside. That goes to you too, wolfman.”

Lonel grunted, plucking some strings and visibly cracking the arrogant demeanour on all the members for a moment, as if to wordlessly say he didn't have faith in his skill in vain, after all. Odena crossed her arms at the fact he had a more well-maintained skillset.

“Huh.” Jerico didn’t add more, but he did pluck at his own guitar. Soon enough, the two men began a routine of some kind, harmonising, and what seemed to practicing some passages. Bichtra joined them with his drums here and there. Odena, in the meantime, earned a little from Marcelin’s grace. Turned out, she was the keyboardist and one of a kind at that. She could help Odena work out some of the kinks before a staff member arrived to tell them it was time.

Odena felt at her neck. It was a long time ago since she stepped onto the stage, let alone was expected to rule it. She wouldn’t have been nervous for the crowd if she had known there weren’t people — creatures among them that actively feasted on her kind. Yet there she was, about to entertain them.

The things she didn’t do to gather information.

Lonel’s palm touched the small of her back, the soft fabric of her dress thin enough so she could feel the calluses on his skin. She turned to him, finding his overly calm, almost bored expression close. “Ready?”

“Hardly.”

He scoffed a half-joking sound. “Just like old times, then.”

“Just like old times,” she huffed out a short laugh, walking close beside Lonel. The bustling outside began to quiet, people’s chattering softening into a barely audible buzz. “It better work, Nel, or I’m going to rip your head off.”

They took their places at the edge of the stage. Even in this situation, a kind of nostalgia found her. Lonel, wrinkled and hardened with age, seemed to morph back into their teenage years as well. And he truly did, as he leaned over to her ear and whispered like he did back then.

“If it doesn’t, you are more than welcome to. But you wanted to come, and you wanted information. So, it’s time to sing for your supper, Blossom.”

[alpineshift]

Okay so I finally got around to fully reading your holiday fic and omg what a delight!

No comment of mine could really do it justice but here are my thoughts! It’s mostly just me quoting your own fic back to you but uh 🤷🏼‍♀️

Okay, first of all, texting and voice messages are far more superior <- this is sooo true! I feel this on a deep level.

He throws himself into non-stop work and research for a few days, pushes out all his anger at the gym, and then calls his mama. <- Pls this just, his mama 🥹

Nico sighs, clutching his favourite cushion to his chest. It’s got a seal patterned cover on it, each cute little face beaming up at him with a joy he doesn’t feel. <- I see what you did there 😏

Jack swears a particularly dedicated snail could outpace them at this point. <- no joke but this made me snort out loud, I feel his impatience.

Welcome to Café 86 <- once again, I see what you did there

He’s all the way near the back of the plane, a whole 43 rows into the bowels of the aircraft <- again…

“Don’t,” Jack sighs at once. “I’m handling it.”

“Historically, every time you say you’re ‘handling it’, you’re generally not.”

“Well, this time I am.” <- love me some good sibling banter

Nico in the Netherlands?! Please I would diee

There’s a rather odd kind of matching look in their eyes, like they’re somehow communicating through the power of mom brainwaves. <- so real

the conversation derails for a few minutes while the two of them try to seal-slap at each other <- I can picture this so well and it’s so accurate tbh. Peak sibling behaviour

Ella runs up to him with the biggest smile on her face, looking perfectly adorable in her periwinkle blue tutu dress, and Nico spins her around until she’s giggling and just about to fall over. <- MY HEART I will never recover

It’s a sight Jack wouldn’t mind waking up to over and over again, and it makes his heart ache. <- yes yes it’s all I want for them

He says it like Jack and Nico will be returning together, and Jack—

His chest caves a little at the reality of them not coming back as a unit. <- so does mine Jack, so does mine…

Nico sighs, long and heavy. He rubs his thumb over the top of Jack’s knuckles, so tender and kind that Jack nearly tears up then and there. <- ohhh my boys 🥹

And then they’re stepping back, moving away from each other. <- NOO

“JACK!” <- YESS

Nico’s fingers tighten around him in warning, but Jack knows exactly which buttons he can push and prod before he won’t be able to get away with it. <- favourite NicoJack dynamic to be honest

Myl you have once again blessed us with your writing! What a delightful piece to end and start the year with 🩵

Aaaaaaaaa I didn’t have a chance to answer this before but now that I’m in airport hell I got some time 🩵🩵🩵 Your message!! Gives me life!! Thank you so much for reading and for your thoughts hehe. I’m especially pleased you caught all the lil references lmao I am not subtle in the slightest but internally I am going validation!! Someone noticed!!!

I think Nico SHOULD go to the Netherlands. Just to visit you. I think that would be amazing actually. You’ll have to tell us all about it 🙂‍↕️ (I don’t remember off the top of my head what it was called but there was a program for museum curating at a Netherlands university that made me choose it. And then there’s a Masters program conveniently at UBC that made the transition work out to west coast jacknico loool)

Were there any doubts that these two would get together in the most Romantic and simultaneously Embarassing fashion? 😌

Thank you for dropping by!! 🩵🩵

[drowninginblox]

Under that Tree

Garmau in 2024? More likely than you'd think lol scampers away with the music of heisting Btw the tree in question is not the tree house. I just like this gif sm and there were no dreamscape gifs

It had been a long time since Aphmau had seen her head guard in this light. The cloudless sky made his ocean-blue eyes deeper the more time she took looking into them. When she did tear herself away from them to catch a prolonged glimpse at this familiarly disjointed island, she would find herself catching a trace of his armor.

Armor that matched his build too well. A sight she knew too well. However, it was never the time nor place to linger on such things. Here though, for some reason, it felt right. It's been so long since that raw feeling of right blessed them. "My Lady, is this...?" Garroth's head swiveled at a concerning rate as the dawning of this familiar place set in. "How did-?"

"I have no idea Garroth," She admitted, deciding to return to their setting rather than the intrusive thoughts she reserved towards one of her favorite guards. "The last time we were here was..." A wave of heat washed over her as intimate memories resurfaced. "When I was in the Irene Dimension. And you were... out in the world." She swallowed, nodding at his interpretation. "Was that reality? Or was it a dream?" Aphmau muttered absentmindedly. "Any moment with you is a dream my lady," Garroth confesses, making his lord smile.

She turns back to him, looking down at the larger-than-life tree's roots. The shadows of its outstretched branches and ample leaves blanket them from the unapologetic sun. Warm as it may be, that particular company wasn't what the pair was looking for. Especially since they have plenty in each other. "You've changed so much since we first met." Garroth returns her small smile with one of his own. "You have offered me a life I otherwise wouldn't have. Whether be in a dying town or in the castle I was raised in." The guard set his helm down on one of the many roots while he took off his hilt. "Pardon me my lady, but it has been quite a while since I've taken this off..."

"Have you been sleeping with your sword?" Aphmau accused, pointing a finger at him. "When was the last time you slept without it on you?" Garroth only turned to her. "When was the last time you did? Without someone searching your body without your permission?" The lady opened her mouth before closing it. Only to open it again. Less than a minute passed without a sound but at that point, the sheath was propped against the root that set Garroth's helmet. "You were saying, my lady?" Aphmau only sighed, kicking away any frustration into the dirt. "Now, now, my lady, the grass has nothing to do with your disappointment in me." The guard chides intermixed a slipping chuckle.

Aphmau's cheeks grow hot as a subtle anger boils in her soul. Meanwhile, Garroth takes the moment to approach her. "You need to take care of yourself Garroth! For the love of-!" She huffs. The urge to walk away from this conversation or wake up from this moment altogether tugging at her. Yet her irritation subsided with the shadow of a touch of worn leather gloves over her hip. So close yet bidding for a consent that Garroth is known to wait hand and foot for. Lingering lifetimes if necessary. "I know. But you should know better than anyone else," He takes a moment to break between the effortless gaze he holds between himself and Aphmau to take a cautious glance at his hand's placement. Aphmau waits for him to look her way to nod.

Even through the rough leather and the layers of her dress and corset, Aphmau could still feel his warmth.

"Everything I do is for you." She breaks her gaze away from his eager eyes, lingering for a faction of a second on his parted lips, before finding herself at his chest. "That is very admirable Garroth," She places her hands on his chest, making the smallest of movements back. Yet that is enough for Garroth to let her go, going as far as to take a step back to give her space. She smiles sadly. "But you deserve to live for yourself. Not for me, or my children, or..." the words catch for a moment. A few breaths are enough to loosen themselves from the prison of her throat. "Even Pheonix Drop." Garroth's brows furrow. "Aphmau, where is this coming from?"

"Garroth, you have dedicated so much of yourself. I admire that so much about you." She swallowed again. Is this why they were here? Alone together in a place made out of idealism? To say the things they left unsaid? Or for her to say the things she was afraid of?

"Garroth, you are such a strong, resilient, and kind man. You have been there for me since the beginning." She lets out a breath of a laugh. "Literally. You have been one of the main reasons I've fought for Pheonix Drop, and continue even when it fell to ruin." Another wave of heat ran through her alongside reserves of passion she could have quantified as nostalgic. A smile tugged to her lips yet wetness brimmed in the corners of her eyes. "My boys didn't deserve a fragment of the world. Nor did they have to hide for the rest of their lives. No one should."

"Aphmau," caution laced between his lips, seeping into her name. "Garroth, you don't deserve that either." She admits. A tear falls down her cheek. Garroth instinctively holds her face, brushing his thumb over her free-falling sadness. "My lady, I stay here because I want to be. With you, and your children, and this village. I have a life here. Where is this coming from?" She fights the urge to give into her heart. her mind has had plenty of time to formulate this. Why is it now that she struggles to move away from his tender grasp? "Garroth, please." She says through flushed cheeks, looking away altogether. He took the hint, moving his hand from her and taking a few steps back so he leaned against the tree.

"Garroth. I think about that day I returned from Scaleswind. The day I found you in the mines." He hoped he could gulp back the implications of what she may be doing, and yet they remained as she did. It was all over his face, the awe, the fear, the confusion of where this was coming from. By no means was Aphmau emotionally prepared for this conversation, and yet here she was. Wading through it like the heaviness of these unresolved feelings she's contained for years. Only managing to brush off any well-meaning teases or outright jealous accusations of tethering her guards to her with the promise of more than just the stereotypical power or pay. This was a long time coming, however, it wouldn't end here.

"I don't know what you remember of that day, I don't blame you if you don't. With Zenix's attack on the village and you doing everything you could to protect Levin, but I remember it so well. Can I tell you what I saw that day?" Garroth took a moment. His gaze faltered between Aphmau and the small meadow that surrounded the tree. Eventualy he relented with a curt nod. "Thank you."

"I remember a very vulnerable man." She takes a step towards him. He remains. "I saw that man in a way I hadn't expected. It was honest and hard on himself. But above all of that, he strove to protect others. Even it meant he'd be hurting himself in the long run." Even though he stood cold and uncaring to this recollection, Garroth couldn't hide his contempt. He shifted his weight between his legs and closed his eyes when Aphmau was halfway through. Striving to disconnect from the moment even though it surrounded him. "I don't know about you Garroth, but that day and the days after I found out about Levin, it seemed like everything changed." She turns away.

"It could have been the knowledge of Levin's family or the circumstances of my lordship... hell, maybe it was just me realizing..." The words catch in her throat. Eventually, Garroth offers an out for her. "That... the world is bigger than you thought?" She smiles, she never turns down Garroth's aid without good reason. Hopefully, this is good enough. "Yes, but, no." She decides. "Garroth, when I traveled, I was free. Freer than I had in a bit. And yeah, it was out of curiosity and to make sure Levin's family was okay. But I think I needed it? Looking back on it now, I think it was the fun before the storm." He chuckles for a moment, allowing Aph to exhale a breath she didn't know she was holding in. "That's all to say, when I got the answers I needed and everything was only a matter of getting back home, I kind of didn't want to go."

Another pause encompasses them. This one was longer and heavier, weighing down on Aphmau's shoulders as if two fully grown wyrens were perched on each. "I know, that's selfish of me to admit. And I did come back of course, but that doesn't make the truth hurt any less." Garroth took a breath of his own. "Aphmau. Did you ever think of abandoning Pheonix Drop? Truly?" another sad smile. "No. Never. Not after that." She smiles, satisfied that they are getting back on track. "When I came back and Zoey told me about the raid- I just. That was that. I needed to see if you and Levin were okay." Garroth shook his head. "You mean if Levin was okay." She rolls her eyes. "Garroth I know what I said. I didn't stutter." She replies evenly, smirking when her guard's face flushed red.

"Garroth, you should know that I returned for Levin and you. Everyone else too- of course! But when I was on that wyren, flying back home, I was looking forward to checking in with you. " The breeze picked up for a moment, making hair sway and her smile fade. "I didn't want to think about it, I think I knew what I was getting into by that time. So, the implications of you and I were just-" "I understand." Garroth nodded, turning back to his helm only for Aphmau to grab his wrist. "I didn't want to put us before our people Garroth."

Slowly, his head turned back. First to his wrist, then to her. "What about Laurence then?" Aphmau swallowed, taking her hand back as anxiety boiled in the pit of her stomach. "I-" She pauses for a moment, considering everything. Her words, her past actions, Garroth. "I can't say he does not mean anything to me. In a way, he's everything to me." Garroth attempts to hide his disappointment, however, the intuition Aphmau has gained over the years of her knowing Garroth shines through with a careful touch to her head guard's cheek. Cupping it as tears begin to well. "He is everything to me in the same way you are." He hesitates before leaning into her warmth. Eventually turning to face her alltogether. Gratitude and sadness wash through him although he has no idea as to why for either.

He had played this proverbial game for years. He knew there was ample risk as there was reward. Yet why does this feel like neither and both at the same time?

"My lady, how long did you know? And what do you mean?" Aphmau smiled. "I love him. And you. Equally, and in the same vein, but differently." Garroth swallowed, blinking a few times while heat rose from his chest. "What?"

"Garroth, I was so worried about what others would think and how both of you would react. But I'm so tired of not living my life, my truth. Garroth, I love you. I can't live without you. Your time in the Irene dimension has proved that to me." She swallowed back a tight bundle that began to gather in the back of her throat. "But I want- no. I need both of you. If not the way I have always hoped, then at least as friends." Garroth considers this as clarity makes itself known. All those moments, the good and the bad, redefined in a matter of a confession. Heat pooled in his stomach while a cold sweat washed over his brow. "My lady,"

"You do not need to answer now, I know it's a lot-" She recovers after a curt cough. Her warmth moves away yet Garroth moves with her, grasping her wrist lightly to get her to remain. Although she is startled by this overt yearning, she does stay. "Aphmau, why didn't you tell me earlier?" He reasons. She looks away. "Everyone else seemed to have only one that their heart yearned for... I've heard stories of people with multiple lovers. Some good, most bad." She blinked away a familiar wetness. Yet courage ignited just for her to look him in the eyes. "I didn't mean to lead either of you on, truly. I just couldn't decide."

A moment passes. Garroth and Aphmau stare into each other's eyes. One was searching. For what, they didn't know. The other was checking. But the same could be said.

Eventually, Aphmau pulled her hand away. Garroth let it. "I'm sorry if this is too much, I-" "No." Tears, now openly falling, could be tasted on the sweetness of small smiles. "Just give me time." Aphmau wasn't sure why, but the sentiment of what Garroth said left her light, warm, and open. It was an old feeling but a welcome one as a bright light from the crevices of branches and leaves seemed to grow brighter and merge together as one in every aspect of Aphmau's being.

Hope was a very good feeling.

[sequinsmile-x]

can you please write something where it's their wedding day, and at the reception they reveal to everyone Emily is pregnant <3

BESTIE I LOVE THIS IDEA!! <3

I really hope you like what I did with this!

-x-

Ardent

It's their wedding day and no one knows Emily is pregnant, and she intends it to stay that way.

The only problem is Aaron has been drinking her drinks as well as his to keep up appearances, and he can't keep his hands off of her.

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy, alcohol consumption

Words: 3.4k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily takes a step back from the mirror to look herself up and down, carefully eyeing her outfit, checking for creases and marks she knew weren’t there. The suit was pristine, the matching white satin jacket and pants complementing her skin tone, the soft material creating a subtle drape where she needed it to mixed with the sharp tailoring perfectly. She had a flowing cami on under the jacket, also satin, that was tucked into the waist of the pants. 

She’d insisted on getting married in a suit. She’d tried several dresses and whilst they had all been beautiful, none of them had felt right. She hadn’t had the moment looking at herself in the mirror in the bridal stores that she’d seen JJ have, or seen strangers have on reality TV shows when she couldn’t sleep. It was the personal shopper in the last store they went to who suggested a suit, something that Emily thinks would have been the woman’s last action on earth if Elizabeth’s looks could truly kill, but she’d tried it - realising there was nothing to lose by doing so. The moment she saw herself in the mirror she knew she’d found what she’d marry Aaron in, the outfit perfect for her, the perfect outfit for the small intimate wedding they were planning to have in Dave’s backyard. 

And, it had the added bonus her mother disapproved entirely. 

Emily smiles as she tugs at the bottom of her jacket, turning sideways to ensure it was lying flat, not revealing the secret that lay beneath. She rests her hand on her small bump, her thumb rubbing back and forth just below her belly button. 

Irritating her mother wasn’t the only reason she’d chosen a suit. 

No one other than Aaron, and her doctor, knew Emily was pregnant. 

They’d been trying for over a year, months of tears and negative tests grating on her nerves long before they set the date for the wedding. Her hope faded as time went on, and her period slowly started to feel like her own body mocking her. She got to the point where she went to her doctor, sure that something was wrong, that Ian had stolen the future she wanted from her after all, but after more tests than she cared to count everything came back clear for her and for Aaron. They were told they just needed to be patient, which was something even she’d admit she’d never been very good at. She’d felt more disheartened than ever after that appointment, wondering if it was the universe simply deciding she just shouldn’t have a baby. 

When she finally found herself looking at a positive pregnancy test she couldn’t believe it. She’d taken it as part of her routine more than anything, clicking the lid into place and putting it down on the counter before she washed her hands and then her face. It was only after she was finished drying her face and reaching out for the next step in her skincare routine that she looked down at it, her eyes going wide as she saw two bright pink lines staring back at her. She’d dropped the bottle of serum in her hand, and the smash of the glass container against the tiled floor was what had gained Aaron’s attention. He’d run into their bathroom, his eyes flicking between the glass on the floor and the tears in her eyes, already comforting her, concerned she’d hurt herself. 

She’d never let him live it down that it was him who’d ended up stepping on the glass on the floor once she’d told him she was pregnant, her words cracking as she held up the test.

She hadn’t quite believed it was real until her doctor confirmed it, until she saw the tiny dot on the ultrasound screen. She was 16 weeks along, some of her seemingly ever-present anxiety about her pregnancy soothed by the fact she was visibly pregnant now, her tiny bump something she knew her soon-to-be husband was as mesmerised by as she was. 

They had never intended to keep it a secret as long as they had, initially saying they’d stick to tradition, for once, and tell people once the first trimester was over. They’d been ready to tell their friends, poised to do it after they returned from a case, but Emily had a scare. Pain that had ripped through her abdomen and had left her terrified, the feeling lingering long after the doctor confirmed everything was okay, that it was her scar tissue adding to the usual discomfort of her abdominals shifting during pregnancy. 

After that, she’d told Aaron she wanted to keep it secret a little while longer, her need to be able to control something, anything, pushing her to insist that they didn’t tell their friends as planned. Aaron said it was her call, that he’d follow her lead, and they agreed they’d tell everyone once the wedding was out of the way. One less thing resting on their shoulders, the run-up to the wedding as stressful as it was joyous. 

Her stomach flips with nervous excitement as the door behind her opens, and she smiles as she turns to look at her fiance. 

“Em, sweetheart, are you almost…” Aaron drifts off as he walks into the room, his words dying in his throat as he looks at her. He steps towards her, looking her up and down as he does so, shaking his head in disbelief at how beautiful she is, in disbelief that she is his, “You look incredible.” 

She blushes, looking down at herself before she looks back up at him, her eyes flicking over his suit, the red tie she’d bought him for today, “You look pretty incredible yourself.” 

He steps forward, reaching out and untucking one of her curls from under the collar of her jacket, laying it with the rest of her dark hair resting on her shoulders. His hand drifts down and comes to rest on her bump, his smile soft as his eyes meet hers. 

“How is he doing today?” He asks and Emily chuckles softly. She pushes her jacket back and places her hands on her hips, revealing her bump. 

She smiles as she looks at him, “He’s okay.” 

Due to Emily’s age and her medical history, she was having frequent scans. At the most recent one just a few days ago the doctor had asked if they wanted to know if they were having a girl or a boy. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation, both of them saying yes in unison, neither one of them patient enough to wait any longer. She cried when they were told it was a boy, a reaction she knew she would have had either way, and a part of her still felt like none of this was real. That she’d wake up back in Paris, on a different continent far away from everyone she cared about and not in the home she owned with the love of her life, just a few hours away from marrying him with their little boy growing safely under her skin. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, “You’re not feeling too nauseous?”

She shakes her head and lets her jacket fall back into place, “A little,” she says, leaning forward to stamp a kiss against his lips, “I think it’s mostly nerves though.” 

He raises his eyebrow at her, his smile flickering ever so slightly, “Good nerves I hope?”

She smiles and nods, “The best,” she kisses him again and when she pulls back she wipes her lipstick from his face, her thumb delicate against his lips. 

“We should get going, otherwise Dave will tell everyone we’re late because we’re hooking up,” he says, kissing her hand before she lets it drop back down to her side. She rolls her eyes and turns back to look at herself in the mirror, giving herself one final look before they leave. 

“That literally happened one time,” she grumbles, pulling at the material of her jacket again. She sighs as he wraps his arms around her from behind, his palm resting on her stomach. She places her hand over his and smiles, “We’re still sticking to the plan tonight, right?” 

He nods and kisses the side of her head, “I’ll drink your champagne for you, and one of the caters is aware you need soda water dressed up as a cocktail.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, smiling at him in the mirror as she squeezes his hand, “Let’s go get married.” 

He turns her in his arms and kisses her, “Let’s go get married.” 

___

Any nerves she may have been feeling disappear the moment she starts to walk down the aisle and her eyes lock with Aaron’s. It’s everything she’d ever secretly wanted but never thought she’d have, her future in Aaron and Jack’s matching smiles as she gets closer and in the tiny baby in her belly. 

The ceremony goes by quickly, a haze of tears and laughter that echoes around her during their vows. All of her focus is on him, on the way he’s looking at her, his words about how much he loves her almost passing her by. She makes a mental note to ask him to repeat them to her later, to keep the note cards he’d written them on so she could always return to them, to this feeling, when life was tougher than it was today. 

Later in the evening, when Jack and Henry are tucked up in bed in one of the spare bedrooms of Dave’s home, the party really starts to get going. The champagne flowing freely, as it had been all afternoon and evening, a bottle of scotch that Dave kept using to pour a measure into Aaron’s glass every time he spotted it was empty, and tequila shots that Penelope seemed to have an endless supply of all being handed around with enthusiasm. Emily had successfully swerved all the drinks offered to her, either by convincing her friends her soda water was alcoholic, or by slipping her drink to her new husband, but it did have one, slightly, unfortunate side effect.

Aaron was drunk. 

He wasn’t obnoxious when drunk, nor was he someone who became louder than usual, something Emily knew she was guilty of herself, but he was more affectionate than he normally would be. He’d constantly be on her, his hands on her hips her lower back, his lips against her neck as he whispered how much he loves her, how much he wants her, against her skin. It was affection he’d usually keep for their home, for when they were behind closed doors, suddenly on display for all to see. Usually, she’d find it amusing. She’d exchange looks with her friends, smiling at the enjoyment Penelope particularly seemed to get out of seeing this usually private side of them, and she’d settle into Aaron’s embrace. 

Whilst she was still enjoying it, smiling at him whenever he pulled her closer and tasting the scotch on his tongue when he leaned in to kiss her, she was also a little worried he’d blow their cover. They’d got away with no one noticing she wasn’t drinking alcohol, but he kept slipping his hand over her stomach, his palm warm as snuck under her jacket and cupped her bump when no one was looking. 

She smiles as he sneaks up behind her again, back from his trip to the free bar with Dave. Aaron sneaks his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek and then her neck, sighing as he rests his hand on her stomach again. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, his words slurring ever so slightly, kissing her neck again before he pulls away, “How are you?” 

She smiles as she links her fingers through his, shifting their joint hands to her hip so it is less conspicuous, “I’m okay,” she replies, tilting her head to look up at him, “Never thought I’d be a stone-cold sober bride whilst everyone else gets drunk,” she quips, raising her eyebrow as she looks out at the crowd and spots her mother doing the conga with the team,  “But he’s worth it.” 

He hums, his hand shifting back to her stomach, forcing her to look back at the party as he rubs a circle, his hand once again finding its way past the barrier of her jacket. She smiles and turns in his arms, his hand sliding down her back and she shakes her head at him. She cups his cheek and stamps a kiss against his lips, still smiling when she pulls back.

“Honey, you’ve got to stop,” she says, kissing him again, “You’re going to give us away before we get the chance to tell anyone.” 

He turns serious and he nods, leaning in to kiss her before he pulls away entirely, “You’re right.” 

She narrows her eyes as he steps away and she tries to grab for his hand, missing it as he gets beyond her reach, “Where are you going?” She asks, keeping her voice as quiet as she can so none of the others overhear her. She gets the answer to her question when he gets onto the small stage Dave had hired for the band to play on and he whispers something to the singer, taking the microphone from him mid-song. She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “Oh for fucks sake, here we go,” she looks down at her stomach and places her hand on it, well aware that everyone's attention was on her husband so she was safe to do so, “I’m never going to let Daddy live this one down, sweet boy.” 

There’s loud feedback from the microphone as Aaron taps on it, making sure that everyone is truly paying attention to him. Emily shakes her head and walks towards the small crowd, her arms crossed over her chest as she accepts what’s about to happen, vaguely amused by how the amount of scotch in Aaron’s system was making him put himself as the centre of attention, something he usually avoided at all costs. 

“I wanted to just take a moment to thank you all for coming,” he says, a goofy smile on his face that makes her fall impossibly more in love with him, “My wife,” he says, cut off by a cheer from Penelope, “And I are so grateful that you are here to celebrate with us and we want to make an announcement…”

Emily presses her lips together to suppress a smile, looking down at the ground in an attempt to hide how pink her cheeks had turned, a mix of excitement and embarrassment making her blush. She feels her friends and her mother’s gazes briefly burning into her before they turn back to Aaron, his words loud even without the microphone. 

“We’re having a baby.” 

There’s a moment of silence that is all too brief before everyone reacts, their exclamations of excitement echoing around the backyard. Penelope is on her before Emily knows what’s happening, hugging her so tightly that her feet briefly leave the floor. 

“You’re pregnant?” Penelope exclaims and Emily chuckles, nodding as she places her hands on her friend's shoulders and pushes back a little.

“Yes,” she says, chuckling as she throws her husband a look, “But you need to let me go or you might squeeze him out.” 

“Him?” Penelope exclaims, clearly stopping herself from pulling Emily into a fierce hug. JJ steps forward and looks Emily up and down.

“You know already?” JJ asks, hugging her friend more gently than Penelope had, “How far along are you?” 

Emily blows out a slow breath, well aware her answer would only create more questions. She senses Aaron behind her, no longer on the stage now he’d told everyone, his hand on her stomach as he pulls her back into his embrace. 

“16 weeks.” 

There’s another moment of silence, everyone looking at them with differing levels of shock on their faces, before Elizabeth is finally the one to speak.

“16 weeks?”

Emily sighs as they all start asking questions at once, their voices overlapping, not letting anyone else get a word in as they bombard them. She turns her head to look at her husband and she raises her eyebrow.

“You couldn’t have just kept your mouth shut?” She asks, her smile giving away that she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. It was nice to know everyone they cared about now knew about the baby, sharing the secret making it somehow feel more real. 

His expression turns serious, “And have to keep reminding myself to keep my hands off of you so I didn’t give us away?” He asks, shaking his head, “Never.” 

___

Emily smiles as she feels the bed shift next to her followed by a groan, the first signs of life from her husband so far that morning. He tugs on the covers, pulling them tighter around him, and she chuckles.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she says, only laughing louder when he groans again.

“What the hell did I drink last night?” He says, finally revealing his face, pulling the covers away so he can look up at her where she is sitting next to him. 

“Everything, honey,” she deadpans, leaning down to stamp a kiss against his lips, grimacing slightly at his breath, “I think you drank everything,” she shifts closer to him and smiles when he rests his head in her lap, his forehead against her bump. She runs her fingers through his hair, “Do you want me to go get you a drink or something? I can highly recommend ginger ale.” 

He looks up at her, “There’s something wrong with my pregnant wife looking after me like this,” he says, his voice gravelly in a way that never fails to make her stomach flip, “I should be making sure you’re okay.”

She scratches at his scalp, “Baby boy and I are perfectly fine,” she says, smiling widely at him, “And I think you get a pass the day after our wedding where you drank all of my drinks and yours.” 

He hums and sits up, his stomach rolling as he does so, forcing him to sit deadly still for a moment whilst the nausea passes. Once it does he wraps his arm around Emily’s shoulders and she leans into him. She breathes him in deeply, the smell of scotch on his skin something she liked in a way she never fully understood. 

“So,” she says curiously, clearing her throat as she looks at him, “Do you remember anything about your little…announcement?” 

He frowns, desperately trying to remember what she was talking about and he shakes his head, “My announcement?” 

She nods and moves so she’s sitting in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. He rests his hands on her hips automatically, holding her in place without thought. 

“Well, you were drunk so obviously you were all over me,” she says, brushing some of his hair from his forehead, “And you kept touching my bump, it’s like you were freaking magnetised to it or something,” she rolls her eyes lovingly at his behaviour the night before, “And I said you were going to give us away. So, in order to be able to carry on touching me…”

“I got on stage and told everyone you’re pregnant,” he says, his eyes wide as the memory returns to him. He curses under his breath, guilt flooding through his chest and briefly replacing the nausea, “Shit, Em, sweetheart I am so so sorry.” 

She shakes her head at him and places a hand on each of his cheeks, holding him in place and forcing him to look at her, “You have nothing to be sorry for, honey,” she says, stroking her thumb over his skin, “I’m glad everyone knows.”

He frowns, his eyebrows pulled together by doubt, “Are you sure?”

She nods, “Yeah,” she says, her smile wide, “It’s nice they know, it makes it feel more…real,” she says and she shrugs, “Besides, one day we’ll be able to embarrass him and Jack by telling them both that you love their mom so much you told everyone about him before we planned to, just so you could keep feeling me up.” 

He chuckles and leans forward to kiss her but she shifts out of the way, her nose turned up, “I thought you said-”

“Oh, I’m not annoyed at you honey, I promise,” she says, assuring him, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles instead, “Your breath just fucking sucks.” 

-x-

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[seirclys]

OG! Penelope Eckhart Headcanons: Appearance

Part 1!

This is gonna be the first of a small series, I think? A lot of my headcanons revolve around my fanfic Shrike, and that doesn't necessarily appeal to a lot of people. Besides, I do have separate hcs for Shrike!Penelope and OG!Penelope, so that's the basis of this little series.

There WILL be some overlap between Shrike and these headcanons, though, just for you eagle-eyed readers who've read my stuff.

This is the first part, focusing on Penelope's appearance! I'm merging what we know from the novel and how SUOL-nim draws her since I imagine Siyeon as less precocious about her appearance than Penelope. I've included some links in the list to elaborate on further.

——— SPOILERS AHEAD ———

Physical Appearance

Penelope, as a villainess in a dating game, is portrayed with sharper beauty than the innocence of Ivonne.

First of all, unlike the roundedness of the manhwa, her eyes are incredibly sharp, catlike, and upturned. I think a better description for her eyes would be "danfengyan"(丹鳳眼), which are "vermillion phoenix eyes". There are two types of phoenix eyes, with danfengyan being the sharper one with double eyelids. Danfengyan is also associated with the beauty standard of China, a symbol of nobility and majesty in ancient China as well.

Additionally, it's also associated with more historical vibes, with their charm brought out the most by the opulent clothes of nobility.

It would certainly lend to a villainess feeling if a pair of aristocratic eyes gaze down at you with grandeur.

This chart is often used in Chinese eye shape posts, especially English ones.

While we're still on the topic of her eyes, the novel has them as green while the manhwa is this blue-green hybrid. I'm going to combine these together and add a bit of a magical element to them.

I think Penelope has eyes like nacre(also known as "mother-of-pearl"), eyes that shift from blue to green when the light hits them just right. I actually do have a reference picture for what her eye color looks like.

It also fits the idea of the "Mermaid Tear" jewel matching Penelope's eyes in the canon novel.

However, they now have a hazy, glassy quality to them that is normally hidden by a mask that Penelope wears, from the result of the pain she has suffered.

Reference

Penelope has aegyo-sal!! The cute little puffs of fat underneath your eyes which are all the rage in East Asia right now, it softens her eyes a tad.

She has long, thick magenta lashes, pretty well-defined like the manga-lashes trend. The lashes are a bit darker than her hair color.

In the same vein, her eyebrows are actually magenta/dark pink like the novel cover! Just a tad darker, with a slight curve, a bit thicker than the pencil brows that manhwa girls usually have. They're naturally set in a manner that makes Penelope look aloof.

She has a cute button nose but a higher nose bridge than Ivonne, making her look more elegant than cute. In addition, she has a more pointed nose tip than Ivonne as well. A small aristocratic nose.

For her mouth, Penelope has a full bottom lip with a slightly smaller upper lip, which has a defined cupid's bow. The novel cover has her upper and lower lips the same size, but I just think it's because the lower lip isn't colored in as much.

Edit: She has small, subtle mouth-corner dimples. The ones around the lower lip.

Her face is pretty sharp and slim, with a mix of doll-like elegance but the classical villainess sharpness.

Penelope's skin is extremely pale like the purest of pearls, both from her intense skincare regimen, the beauty standards of Eorka, and the fact that she rarely exposes herself to direct sun. Parasols are her best friend.

Her magic is subconsciously used for small things in her day-to-day life, so I would imagine Penelope's desire to fit into the nobility's beauty standards influencing it to affect her appearance.

Her hair, no matter how long, maintains its perfect curls and mirror-like shine. Its vivid rhododendron hue contrasts sharply with her skin.

I think that the "appearance-enhancing magic" was dimmed down when Siyeon was transmigrated in since she is a tiny shard of the original. It's gonna be my in-universe explanation for why Penelope's hair went to waist-length later on, Emily having to cut it because of the lack of magic supplying it with healthy nutrients.

Her hair, thusly, reaches to like. Her knees? Very Long Hair.

I'm referencing another Tumblr user's post here, I'll edit the post with the link when I find it. BUT. I've been drawing recently and trying to diversify the body shapes we see in manhwa.

I feel like Penelope's body would be more mature, "shapely" for lack of an appropriate term. She wore a lot of extravagant and mature dresses that weren't age-appropriate but suited her at the same time(I will have to fact-check this).

TLDR: hourglass body yo... peak example of beauty standards...

If she wasn't so ostracized, and her personality was less abrasive, I feel like her nickname would've been "The Temptress" or something, with her body being lusted over by other men(which feeds into her disgust at their hypocrisy. Will go into this in more detail in later posts). Think Roxana's 19-year-old body(Roxana) or Larcy(I Will Fall with the Emperor).

Tiny waist, which is even more pronounced by the tightlacing she does.

This is also due to my headcanon of a fictional plant named "Scipretta"(seen also in Shrike). Penelope was continuously dosed with it since she was 13.

Scipretta is a plant of Delman origin, from its Western Plains and has been cultivated for six centuries. It was used for physical enhancement of secondary sex characteristics, especially in females. Essentially, Scipretta would push puberty along, full of magical growth hormones. It was often taken by Delman concubines to appear more physically attractive. Unrefined, it acts as a mild poison that eats away at one's energy, causing the trend of "Slumbering Nymphs" in Delmanese culture.

The Eckhart maids regularly dosed her with it to cover up potential signs of malnutrition while harming her as well. Then, if someone were to be suspicious of the malnutrition, they could point to her body and say "how could Lady Penelope have a perfect body like that if she wasn't eating well, and being taken care of like a princess?"

However, Penelope does have a naturally beautiful body, the Scipretta fed to her was of questionable quality and really sapped her of her energy. When Dona was kicked out, she stopped getting dosed.

She has sharp shoulders, slender and pale limbs, and she has long fingers that are good for playing instruments. Her decolletage and bone structure are quite pronounced.

Clothing

Everything, and I do mean everything is expensive and extravagant.

Penelope wears a lot of dark colors and subtle but expensive patterns and fabrics. However, she does have a large variety of clothes in all cuts, styles, seasons, and occasions. She easily has one of the largest wardrobes among the noblewomen.

As mentioned above, Penelope tightlaced her corsets. It had the side-effect of making her not hungry even when she was starving from malnutrition. It kept it off her mind.

She carries parasols and fans, embroidered with beautiful lace and patterns.

Her accessories are as numerous as one may believe, with countless unique, stunning jewels in her collection. She has a lot of expensive, gem-studded accessories because they can be pawned off, especially if she has to escape to a place that doesn't use the standard currency.

Penelope has a lot of pieces and even luxurious gifts from foreign admirers.

They range from tame, to cute, to extravagant.

Her dresses are all structured with large skirts, but as she mentally matured during the time loops, she gravitated toward less structured silhouettes or mermaid gowns. In addition, her clothes began to cling more to her body, emphasizing it along with lower-cut necklines(think something along the lines of the Hunting Competition red gown).

She shows her shoulders off often with off-shoulder clothing.

Her layers also grew more sheer, like sheer overskirts, sheer sleeves, and other sheer details.

Scent

Flowers: She has that sweet, floral scent of roses, lilies, or fragrant rhododendrons.

Fruit: Penelope sometimes has notes of bergamot, which does wonders for stress. For fruity scents, she picks ones that induce calm.

Cloves: A hint of that spicy, woody scent, especially when she wears rhododendron perfume.

However, Penelope always carries around the scent of sweet flowers, which comes from her magic powers, described later on.

Makeup/Nails

While Penelope favors deep reds and pinks for her lips, she does wear lighter lipcolors during daytime occasions.

Her cheeks are constantly dusted with blush, a subtle all-over and concentrated a smidge more around underneath her eyes.

Her aegyo-sal is highlighted by highlighter(ha) and pink eyeshadow.

Speaking of eyeshadow: her eyes are highlighted the most with bold colors, but Penelope tones it down with shades of pink, red, and coral, as well as gold and silver powder to tie in the looks. She knows her makeup and how to not overwhelm a look.

As for nails, while she prefers to match her nails to her outfit, Penelope favors jelly-colors or pearl-patterned nails. The sort of blurry, glass-like nails that are popular all over East Asia right now and fast entering the West.

She imports a lot of products, accessories, and clothes(both styles and fabric) from all over.