#leave ricci alone

[janesurlife]

love how everyone in ferrari is against Leclerc but he still doesn't leave that team...bro why would you stay at a team where no one supports you ALLEGEDLY (and by allegedly I meant according to the voices in lecfosi's head)

[esotericbadbitch]

Sure she destroyed the plane’s black box and ate human flesh but what people don’t understand is she was literally neurodivergent and a minor 🥺

[nazariolahela]

I've been aggressively flirting with this guy and slept with him twice, but for some reason (PB 🙄) Gabe, who I haven't shown any interest in, won't stop making unwanted advances toward me.

[xblackreader]

SydCarmy Meets The Family <3

>>> The thought of Carmy being introduced to Sydney’s tons of Nigerian Aunties and Uncles is very humorous to me.

“And Here he is! I brought you my boyfriend, Carmen finally. So everyone leave me alone about it.” Sydney starts, once she has hugged everyone.

The ‘Please go easy on my white man’ is silent but they nod. Raising up to shake his hand and her littlest clingy cousin who greets her, stares him down like he’s an alien.

He sticks out like a blonde haired blue eyed sore thumb, but once he’s been greeted and given a general threatening message via all her uncles (in tight jeans and sandals, which lightens the threats) he is told to put down the things they brought in the kitchen.

“Nice firm handshake.” He hears an uncle comment as he leaves and he is elated. It’s small but it’s approval!

Once in the kitchen, the auntie’s crowd to greet him with hugs and get distracted seeing him for the first time, squeezing his muscles and touching his hair.

“Eh… nwa ocha ya di short mana sara mbara…”

“Ma o nwere big muscles!

“No! Yana min kyau! Cute!”

Carmy: “Uh, do… do they like me?”

Sydney: “Oh, they love you. They’re plotting to steal you away from me.”

“Big nose though…”

Carmy: “okay, that was in English.”

Her younger cousin, David, walks up to Carmen as he chops vegetables. Pulling a little stool over and standing at his side, wordlessly. He stares first at Carmen himself then the vegetables the white man cuts so effortlessly.

Little sticky fingers rise and reach for the knife and Carmen just laughs as he attempts to pry it from much larger stronger hands.

“Can I see?” David asks, confused on why his big cousin’s boyfriend thinks he’s so funny.

“Sorry man, this is a knife. Too heavy and way too sharp for you to use.”

David is heavily offended that he is being underestimated. “I can chop! I chop for Mama everyday!”

“David!” He heard said Mama begins to scold him, “Do we raise our voice at guests?” David begins to tear up.

“O- oh it’s not like that, Ms. Dian—.” Carmen inserts, David cut off from his whine.

“You can call me auntie, Sydney’s boyfriend.”

“Y- yes, ma’am. Auntie, He’s just asking if he can help me cut vegetables. I didn’t know he had experience.”

David’s mother melts immediately and confirms that yes, David does chop carrots and garlic for her. “Oh, David is very smart! Knows how to hold the knife properly and everything!”

So Carmen lets David help him ‘chop’ keeping a steady hand in his as the little boy is taught new techniques and tricks.

By day’s end, David is smitten with his new weird looking friend and makes it plain by crying when it’s time to part. Sydney is so proud that she lets him parade around as the new favorite cousin.

>> And Sydney meeting a couple other “less-than-woke” Berzattos? Older Italian people setting eyes on their introverted little nephew’s girlfriend?

“Che bellezza!” A drunk uncle of his screams almost immediately before Carmen can get her name out.

“Gambe piuttosto lunghe… You guys will have such cute babies!”

“Oh, mixed babies are the cutest!” Donna throws in.

“Ma…” Carmy warns.

“Oh, you’re so WOKE, Carmen. Chill out! She’s givin’ her a compliment!” His Uncle says before turning back to the game and Uncle Jimmy shoots her the most apologetic look he’s ever seen from him.

“Ya mother’s right, Carmen! See, my sista has the cutest little grandchildren! Remember little Joey, Carmen? He went and found himself a black girl too!”

Carmy: “Okay, Aunt Glo, thank you. Can we move o-”

“And they have just beautiful little caramel children! And their hair! Ugh! Ricci e belli!”

Sydney is just nodding and trying not to laugh at how mortified Carmy is. He looks over to her in apology, but none of these comments are particularly too inappropriate and they mean well.

“But she’s skinny…”

“Skin and bones! Let’s feed her— come with me, sweetheart!”

Sydney: “O-oh, uh…” but her hand is captured and she’s being yanked led into the kitchen to be fed by hand.

She tosses a help look to Carmy and he shrugs with a small smile.

“Hopefully this’ll make your hips wider… The Berzattos have large heads when they’re babies, unfortunately. Sorry.”

Carmy: “Ma! Cut the baby talk!”

Fin.

[carolmunson]

7 ✨ with any lil steve for me? 🥹 tis your daughter (the first born)

—⭐️🛼

‘don’t think about it, boy leave her alone.

she likes my tone, my cologne, and the way i roll.’

wealthy!steve/pbv!steve

He tucks his hair behind his ears before running over it with pomade, boar bristle brush following up after his deft fingers. It was his grandpa’s, he thought it was the slickest thing ever. His grandpa taught him how to comb his hair like greasers used to in the 50s — his dad didn’t love that. Didn’t love that his son used Farrah Fawcett spray either — but you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind one bit.

“Babe, where’s my — oh,” you smile when you catch him styling his hair, plush lower lip tucking in between your teeth, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he smiles back at your reflection while he perfects the swoop of the sides, the top perfectly coiffed. He watches you stare for a little while he continues with his pomade, structuring the top just so.

“Did you come in here to ask me a question or just stare at me, Manhattan?” he asks, snarky grin pulling at his original smile — glint in his hazel eyes.

“Uh — oh,” you shake your head, a breathless laugh coming from your chest, “Where’s my black coin purse? The beaded one?”

He rest the tip of his tongue on his teeth while he thinks, brows contorting while he looks at you through the mirror. After a moment he snaps his fingers, turning to you fully.

You feel silly over how your skin gets hot when he turns around in his Stefano Ricci suit. Black on black, only the flash of a gold tie clip on his sternum to break up the color.

“I brought it to my tailor, honey,” he frowns, “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. Remember the last time you brought it out and some of the beads pulled? I wanted to get it fixed.”

You scrunch your nose, disappointed, “You’re lucky you’re hot, Harrington.”

He snorts, turning back to the mirror to give himself a once over before spritzing himself with his standard Dior Homme. He likes how your eyes darken a little whenever you smell it on him. Steve liked to call it his ‘liquid guarantee’.

“You have ten other black bags you can wear tonight,” he offers, making his way to your shared dressing room off the side of your suite where you stand in front of all of your purses.

“I just had my heart set on that one for this dress,” you shrug, “It’ll be fine. Worse things have happened to me. I mean — you’re here.”

He clicks his tongue again, coming up behind you where his hands smooth over your shoulders, nose gliding up the side of your neck. He can feel the goosebumps raise on your skin, “Bring the silk one, that’ll be pretty.”

“You sure?” you ask, heart fluttering when you hear his deep, bass-y ‘mhm’ in your ear.

“You smell good,” you mumble back, vision getting hazy while he encompasses you from behind. His lips press softly against the base of your jaw.

“Thank you, angel,” he kisses again, voice husky. Steve leans forward, grabbing the black silk coin purse from its spot on the wall and tucking it into your hand while you lean against him — jello, “Now let’s go.”

[scorchieart]

Hello Scorchie! May i request headcanons for Rio and Silvio about what their ideal solo vacation would be? I know requests are up to 3 princes so you can pick a third! Or just the two would be good. Thank you!

Silvio, Rio, & Keith's Solo Vacations

It's been over a year, but this was the perfect weekend for me to finally tackle this one. I chose Keith for the third since I'm rereading his route atm. Hope you enjoy!

Silvio Ricci

Where does the man who travels the world for work go on vacation?

As if Silvio would know. He throws a dart at whatever map Carlo is studying at the time. Anything will work as long as it’s away from the palace. Far far away.

“It’s got a hole, genius.” Silvio flicks a gold coin into the scholar’s dumbfounded face and swipes the map. A remote island off the coast of Tanzanite? That’ll do nicely. 

Packs extremely light. “If I need it, I’ll buy it there” outlook.

Doesn’t bother to tell anyone where he’s going. If it’s that important, they would have told him before he left, right? Of course, he didn’t bother to tell anyone he was leaving in the first place…

Weather so fair and route so straightforward Silvio could navigate with his eyes closed. Hm? Yes, of course he’d be captaining his own ship. This is his vacation, after all.

Familiar scents of coin and opportunity waft into his face as soon as he touches shore. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and steers away from the marketplace, heading straight for the bungalow he purchased on his last visit here. He is on vacation, after all.

He left the crew with orders to do as they pleased during their stay, so Silvio spent the first five days alone hiking, fishing, swimming, rafting, rope weaving, sandcastle building, sandcastle destroying, bonfire starting, out-of-control-bonfire extinguishing, spontaneous karaoking…

He isn’t lonely!

… Just bored.

Maybe a trip to town wouldn’t be too bad. It was time to restock some home essentials. To fully enjoy the vacation, of course. 

Is exceedingly aware of tourist traps but doesn’t use that as an excuse to avoid the locals. When he finally psyches himself up, Silvio peruses the stalls and bazaars of the area, pockets a-jangle in all their musical monetary glory.

It just so happens he didn’t pack a toothbrush, and the repeated fish dinners stung his nostrils with each breath he took. Not his fault the miswak salesman was more than happy to offload his entire month’s stock to Silvio’s hygienic cause.

And Silvio only packed two outfits for the trip; one to wear while the other washed. It would be a shame not to indulge in the rich styles of the locals, all the dozens of combinations of colors and fabrics and textures. Oh, and can’t forget the accessories either.

But before he could try even a single piece on, how could Silvio be expected to properly experience his vacation to the fullest when the bathhouse could use an extra steam room? Or two? Plus retiling. And since they were entertaining a foreign prince, why not go for the full remodel? It would only be rude for Silvio not to invest in such an essential aspect of their culture during his stay.

By the time Silvio leaves, the island’s commerce, businesses, and quality of life are thriving. Neighboring lands scramble to enlist their best cartographers to balloon maps of their territories to ludicrous proportions and send them as gifts of goodwill to the brilliant scholar of Benitoite Palace.

Rio Ortiz

Weeks of pleading, several doctor’s visits, and a few near-collapse scares. But the final nail in the coffin is the imperial order issued by all eight princes to take some time off away from the palace. An overworked body and mind are ill-suited to properly serving a mistress, after all.

Several more days of convincing are needed before Rio agrees to go on this vacation alone. “Focus on yourself and do the things you like,” you tell him.

But what he likes are all the things you like. Wouldn’t thinking about you the entire trip be counterproductive then? Maybe he should just take a staycation…

Rio wakes the next morning in a carriage bound for Rhodolite’s southern region. In his coat pocket he finds a small coin purse and a note: “Until the season ends. And not a day sooner.” It is signed by Sariel Noir, Mr. Akatsuki, and you.

(Aww, he got your autograph. First souvenir.)

At last the carriage stops in a small village near the Jadean border. What it lacks in size it makes up for in charm: the homes cluster around an inviting inn like the rings of a conch shell, a café abuts a humble bookshop near the town hall, and children freely splash in a shallow pond just beyond the last row of houses.

After checking into the inn and depositing the bags he certainly didn’t pack, Rio spends the day exploring the town that would be his home for the next three weeks. 

He orders a black tea at the café and, after a brief chat, teaches the owner how to best brew your favorite warm beverages. The owner thanks him, waves the tea fee, and gifts a sachet of Jadean herbs that, when steeped in hot water, can cure a man’s drowsiness instantly. (Second souvenir.)

Next is the bookshop, and Rio spends the rest of the afternoon helping the seller rearrange her shelves by language of origin and genre, as Mr. Akatsuki recommended was best for stores catering to cross-kingdom travelers. The seller thanks him, lets him sit on the store’s comfiest couch, and gifts a collection of unpublished short stories and folk tales from across the south of Rhodolite. (Third souvenir.)

Upon returning to the inn that night, he is greeted by the staff scrambling up and down the building attempting to stave off a rat infestation. Rio quickly drops his gifts off in his room (hidden in the pockets of those bags he certainly didn’t pack), runs back to the lobby, and pulls up his sleeves. In under an hour, the entire pack of rodents is safely captured in a cage and released into the field just beyond the pond. Rio always disliked “exterminating” rodents in view of Sariel. The inn staff is so grateful they tell him he is welcome to stay his entire trip free of charge.

When the three weeks are up and the carriage returns to collect him, the driver gawks at the bursting bags Rio certainly overpacked.  “Just how much money did those princes give you?” the driver asks. 

Rio pulls the coin purse out of his pocket for the second time on the trip and gives it a jingly shake. “I dunno. Never opened it.”

Keith Howell

Solo vacations are practically nonexistent in Keith’s life. There is always another presence tagging along, hovering at arm’s length like a kindred soul, no matter the time or place or how hard he tries to slip away.

That’s right — Dill is always up for an adventurous getaway!

Easy for a bird to say (chirp), but a prince cannot simply spread his wings and take flight whenever the urge strikes. What would his family, his kingdom, other kingdoms say if they learned Keith Howell played skippy? 

No, that wouldn’t do. He sits at his desk and prepares dozens of personalized letters, each individual one copied twice in case the originals get lost in transit. In them, he details his intentions to take one month of next year’s summer away from the palace for the express purpose of individual scientific study, promises his prompt return before the annual goodwill summit’s opening ceremonies, and apologizes for any inconveniences the trip will cause.

Dill angrily pecks Keith’s hand whenever he slips up and starts writing the location they will be heading to. It can’t be a proper vacation unless they are totally off the grid.

Eleven months and excessive worst-case scenario planning later, Keith and Dill set out on their trip. Their destination: an uninhabited province in the valley region near Obsidian.

They pack enough food to feed five men and five birds for five weeks. Similar precautions are taken for shelter, clothing, first aid, and other travel essentials. The list is checked and rechecked each time they stop to build camp.  

Keith only considers turning back twice.

The journey would normally take less than a week, but the pair plotted their course to pass through several special botanical landmarks to check in on the exotic collections there, extending the voyage to take up nearly half their one-month timeline. Dill allows these extended detours since the satisfaction on Keith’s face whenever he sees a tree or bush or fungus thriving is a form of self-care in itself.

Their final destination sits in a crater at the cusp of the valley. Centuries ago, a meteor crashed into the mountainside, carving out a chunk from the earth at such an unnatural angle that it perpetually disrupted the biosphere of the resulting crater from its surrounding region. Keith once read about the region and how its unique evolution rendered it ill-suited for animal life and knew instantly he wanted to study it in person one day.

And that day finally arrived. With his feathered friend on one shoulder and a bag full of fresh field journals and researching tools on the other, Keith marches into the no-man’s land with a beaming expression Dill would describe as more remarkable than any of the organisms they encountered on the trip.

One week after the pair’s promised return date, and not a soul complains when Keith interrupts the goodwill summit with his late arrival, politely requests all inquiries wait another week for him to respond to, and promptly heads straight to his room for the longest, most blissful sleep of his life, all the while hugging his filled journals to his chest and tracking mud and Dill along behind him.

Silvio takes a vacation from his vacation. The village takes a vacation during Rio's vacation. Keith takes a staycation after his vacation.

[aquagirl1978]

Karma - Silvio Ricci x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Part of Visions of Temptation 2023 hosted by @xxsycamore

Pairing: Silvio Ricci x Reader

Prompt: Against a Wall

Word Count: 1205

Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; sex against a wall; overstimulation; begging; creampie; piv; female-bodied reader (no pronouns used)

Absence makes the heart grow fonder – or that’s how the saying goes.

Silvio had been away from the palace on three separate extended trips in as many months. You understood when you entered into a relationship with Silvio that a chunk of his time would be spent away working. 

But, damnit. Just once you wanted him to feel how you felt when he was away – the ache in your heart knowing it would be days until you saw him, the loneliness of going to bed alone each night, and the torment of being without his touch for days on end. 

Every month it was you standing alone at the palace gates, waving goodbye to your lover as he set off for adventure. Sure, not every trip was glamorous or exciting – most times, Silvio was busy making deals to help his country. You knew that Silvio was a hard worker, and that while he was working, he had little time to dwell on missing you.

And that is exactly why you had worked so hard this week. Each and every day this week, you had done everything in your power to avoid him. If he asked you to join him for lunch, you conveniently had other plans you had forgotten about. If you saw him walking down the hallway, you immediately turned, and scurried the other way. And if he came to bed late at night, you rolled over and pretended to be asleep. 

This was all part of your master plan – to make Silvio miss you like you missed him. You wanted him to beg and plead and cry just to feel your touch on his skin, for your lips to graze against his in only a hint of a kiss, for your body to be so close to his he could feel your warmth.

Lucky for you, this experiment was ending tonight. Your plan was working. You saw the small frown that flashed across his face when you declined his lunch plans; you heard his sad sigh when he found you already asleep the other night. 

And after the ball tonight, all your wishes would come true.

Or so you had hoped.

*****

“With me. Now!” 

Silvio’s voice was a low growl in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin as he grabbed your wrist. The hint of a pleased smile spread on your lips as his thumb pressed down on your pulsepoint, practically dragging you from ballroom to bedroom.

Silvio kicked down the ornate doors leading to his bedroom, roughly pushing you inside before him.

“Silvio!” You feigned a sad frown as you rubbed your wrist, lamenting the loss of his touch upon your delicate skin. “What’s gotten into you?” you asked, batting your eyelashes innocently.

Closing his eyes, he let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “You did, woman,” he huffed out,  his eyes still closed. 

Your heart sang with joy, ready to celebrate this small victory. But victory was over as soon as it came; pressed up against the wall, Silvio’s imposing frame loomed over yours, his arms caging you, leaving you with no escape.

Cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently stroked your soft skin. “I know what you did,” he whispered, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. Your heartbeat quickened as he dragged his hand down your face, his fingertip tracing a line down your throat and along the slope of your shoulder. 

“I know you have been avoiding me all week.” His hand fell from your shoulder down your arm, his calloused hand rough on your bare skin, your body trembling from his touch. He pushed his hips against yours; your core flooded with warmth, the outline of his erection pressing against you. 

“I know you were awake the other night.” Any sense of tenderness now gone, Silvio stared at you, his ocean eyes darkening like a storm out on sea. 

“Turn around. Hands against the wall.”

*****

Karma was a bitch.

It was supposed to be Silvio begging for you – but instead it was you.

“Silvio….ahhhh….”

His cock was buried deep inside you, his hips thrusting against yours at a merciless pace, your body this close to being wracked with your second orgasm of the evening. 

Your cries spurred him on, encouraging him to rail you harder and faster, if that was even possible. His stamina was normally very high, but tonight it was boundless.

Moaning loudly, the waves of pleasure overwhelmed your body as you reached your peak. You felt weak in the knees; Silvio’s cock, still inside you, decreasing his pace. 

He leaned over your back, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I know you have more in you,” he whispered, leaving a biting kiss on your neck. You let out another moan, softer, resigned in knowing he was not done with you yet.

Pulling his cock out, your arousal trickled down your thigh slowly. He roughly spun you around, a wicked grin adorning his handsome face, his hair slicked back, sweaty. 

“Silvio…” Your voice was breathless as you spoke, his name the only word on your tongue. A shiver ran down your spine, your body trembled. Your eyes lidded, you looked away, not wanting him to see how badly you desired him.

He slid a hand up your skirt, his fingers teasing your clit. Your lips parted as you sighed softly, your body betraying you.

Removing his hand, he smirked at you. “All this and you still want more?” 

Your head bobbed, an imperceptible nod. But a nod, no less. Lifting you in his arms, he pinned you against the wall with one arm, while the other lifted your skirts, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist.  

He cupped your cheek, bringing your gaze to his. “I want to see your face when I ….” He easily pushed his cock in one swift thrust, your back arched, the stretch rough and pleasurable 

No need to wait for you to adjust to his size, he immediately began to rock his hips against yours, his pace just as merciless as before. Moans slipped from your lips as he ravaged your body, waves of pleasure quickly building in your core.

Closing your eyes, you succumbed to his movements, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to last much longer like this. Silvio grunted a few times, his cock hitting deeper inside with each thrust.

“Look at me,” he said, demanding that you open your eyes. Blinking, you found him smiling as you let out a strangled moan, the pleasure cresting inside you.

“Ahhh…” he groaned as his cock twitched inside you. His body tensed as he stayed inside you, spilling his seed. 

Gathering you in his arms, he carried you over to the bed, gently laying you down on the plush coverings. He helped undress you, doing much of the work as your body rested blissfully. After he undressed and got ready for bed, he returned to your side, pulling you close to him, your head resting on his chest. 

“I’ll have to make you miss me again soon,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your temple, your eyes already closed, barely registering the implications of his words.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu

[mamirhodessxox]

I hate you more (Part 3)

Mafia!Cody Rhodes x Fem OC!Mafia Reader

(Sasha Francesca Ricci)

Enemies to lovers trope

Credits to @alyyaanna for helping me come up w the storyline because I had like 3 different mental breakdowns trying to figure out what to do

Storyline: Sasha was born into a world of darkness and fear, Despite the harsh circumstances she was out in she managed to drag herself into finding love at a young age especially when she least expected it but unfortunately not all love stories are fairytales, Sasha resented the man who once brought her love in her life just to leave and break her heart while having the audacity to invade her life many years once again and give her conflict of love and war on how she was to overcome the feelings she feared while trying to focus on her job with him being so close and invasive to her.

Contents: Smut in future chapters, Knife Play, Choking kink, Degradation kink, Praising Kink, Alcohol, Smoking, Violence, Mentions of m1rder, drug dealing, Fluff, Angst, Marijuana, Shotgun, Shrooms, Cody & Sasha slutting each other out, Blood Kink.

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Story inspired playlist

Sasha sighed groggily as her mother Barbra had everyone meet in one of the lounge rooms, Cody stood in a corner with his arms folded over each other right after he alerted her the moment she was awake of Roman planting cameras in her daughters room. Sasha hadn’t had an idea yet & was quite confused as to why Cody made her get up at 7:30 in the morning along with everyone else “Is there a reason why You woke me up in the butt fuck of dawn for this shit?” Barbra gave her a look while Seth sighed and sat down somewhere half asleep while he & Sasha’s mother began talking “I’m sure your all exhausted, clearly, but I would like to let you all know that Cody has brought it to my attention that Roman had been caught hiding cameras in Sasha’s bedroom. Now I cannot put this family, This team, on the line & I absolutely refuse for everything to go to shit by a man. Later today you will all be put into pairs to search around the house to make sure he hadn’t placed anything else around. Starting in the afternoon.” Sasha raised a brow & looked over at Cody Who stared back at her before she turned around on her heel & made her way upstairs.

She stared at her room seeing the broken camera shattered onto her floor followed by Romans bloody chain on her desk, Cody followed behind leaning against the door frame while she picked it up & looked up at him sensing his presence “Look at you getting all protective over me. Got a crush?” He rolled his eyes “Don’t start we were doing so good.” She tilted her head & stared at him “So good on what? We tolerating your mere existence?” “Fuck you Sasha I let you sleep in my bed” She smirked “Did you let me sleep in your bed or did you want me to sleep in your bed?” Cody scowled before turning and walking off leaving her alone while she held the necklace before walking out of her room to throw away the piece of jewelry.

She watched it fall into the trashcan that sat in the kitchen before going back into her room to put on a swim suit & relax out by the pool. Cody watched from his window as she laid on the pool chairs rubbing in sunscreen into her thighs and stomach, she felt as if she was being watched & stopped for a moment until looking at Cody’s bedroom window seeing him stand there while she smirked waving her fingers at him in a taunting manner before Randy went over to her.

“I need you to come see something. Right now.” Sasha glared looking away from Cody’s window & lifted her sunglasses “Did Seth die?” “No.” “Break his neck?” “No..” “Then I don’t see why I need to give up my personal Sasha me time.” Randy glared “It involves your mother now get your ass up.” She groaned and swung her legs onto the ground dramatically and got up to follow wherever Randy was taking her & soon saw an entrance to a basement that she never knew about that Randy already went through “Okay?? So what it’s underground storage, ooo so scary.” Randy glared and smacked the back of her head before dragging her down there letting her see what was in the basement causing her to furrow her eyebrows

“The fuck?” “Exactly.” She walked around the underground room seeing various pictures of Barbra & her father, court files, mugshots, death certificates of what seemed to be the people they “handled” back in the day following with various Crime scene evidence that was stolen such as weapons, clothing, weapons & more. Sasha stood there and then turned towards Randy “So what do you want me to do about it? This is to be expected.” Randy glared and crossed his arms “Your not pissed she hid this from us?” Sasha shrugged

“I mean what do you want me to do? Half of this shit was from the 80’s it’s not my problem to deal with.” Randy sighed before shaking his head “You & Seth are fucking stupid I swear to god.” She smiled “You love us enough to stay this committed to the family.” She teased before walking out of the basement back outside to the pool until Seth & Cody stopped her from lying back down while Seth started talking “Mom’s going out of town for business tonight & told us we need to get some sort of information out of this drug dealer, Rául González, He has association with Roman & we could find out what we need to know as to why Roman was planting cameras, I know exactly what we can do.” “Kindap him?” Cody suggests “Throw a party.” Seth blurted out while Sasha stood there glaring “Your like 28 what the fu-“ Sasha huffed out while holding up a hand “Seth didn’t have a Social life for awhile just let him throw the fucking party.” Cody crossed his arms over his chest and turned his attention over to Sasha “How are we gonna throw a fucking Party when Randy won’t let it happen? He’s like a guard dog.” “I can distract him.” Marianna said as she came out of nowhere “Fuck your creepy.” Seth shrieked while Sasha grinned “Marianna you don’t need to do all of tha-“ “He’s hot so why not?” Cody widened his eyes a bit and looked over at Sasha as she looked over at him before Seth randomly made the decision “Fuck it. Distract Randy.”

🖤🍒🖤🍒🖤🍒🖤🍒🖤🍒🖤🍒🖤🍒🖤

Sasha stood as she watched Seth & Cody carry in a variety of drugs into the house for this event such as, Marijuana, Shrooms, Ecstasy, Acid & more. Marianna walked into Barbra’s office where Randy would be sitting in organizing files & looked up at her “Yes?” She smiled innocently and sat on top of the desk “Watcha working on?” He quirked up an eyebrow “What’s it to you Marianna?” She shrugged before hopping off and walking over to behind the desk to sit herself on his lap “Just curious.” She shrugged her shoulder while he cleared his throat nervously. Soon occupying his attention to the attractive woman giving him her attention.

Meanwhile music started surrounding the house & Guests started welcoming themselves in real fast, Athena stood in a corner watching it go down while Cody approached Sasha in the kitchen with a tiny bag of weed wiggling his eyebrows while she smiled patting his chest and strutting off to say hello to one of her old friend Rhea who was known to be the businesses’ major negotiator when it came to Barbra making business deals & Drug sales, Rhea smiled as she kissed Sasha’s cheek “Long time no see Sash! I can’t believe how long It’s been since I’ve seen you.” She smiled while Sasha grinned “Only a few months, But i hear you’re still going strong on some of our deals, I was wondering when I would get to see you.” Rhea grinned as she noticed Cody staring them down “You two again?” Sasha grew a confused expression looking over into Cody’s direction before looking back at Rhea “Nothings happening, yet.” Rhea hummed nodding as her eyes diverted towards Sasha’s lips and grew a slight smirk “I must add that you look stunning tonight, Sash.” She smiled at Rhea compliment & looked over at Cody & back at Rhea before clinking her glass against Rhea’s and walking off to get something to drink in which Cody would follow her.

“You have a staring problem.” Sasha added as she poured herself a drink as Cody leaned against the counter taking a hit off of a joint he had rolled somehow while Rhea & Sasha were interacting “Can’t help it when the person I hate so much is everywhere I turn.” Sasha eyed his joint & he held it up for her to try but she shook her head “I hate joints. Bad aftertaste.” He smirked and moved closer towards Sasha & pressed his lips against hers before blowing the smoke into her mouth while she inhaled and blew the smoke back out after he gave her a shotgun for the first time in years.

“How’s that instead?” Sasha shrugged before taking a sip of her drink “Keep it up, you’ll end up getting lucky tonight.” Cody grinned before grabbing her hair & pushing her closer to him. Meanwhile Marianna sighed softly sitting on the desk with Randy between her legs kissing each other in a sloppy manner before he perked up a bit “What’s with the music?” She shrugged “Don’t worry about it.” He furrowed his expression until Mari grabbed the back of his neck and gripped on his shirt to get his attention to focus back on him, Seth noticed Rául had finally made his way into the house & rushed into the kitchen shoving Cody off of Sasha “Stop switching spit with my sister & get your shit together Ráuls here.” Cody groaned out in annoyance as he had just gotten cockblocked before Sasha shoved him away with Seth while she stood infront of the designated lounge room doors waiting patiently.

The boys followed Rául while Cody quickly smacked him in the side of his head knocking him out while Seth quickly dragged him off to the lounge rooms nodding at Sasha as she shut the door as the guys started tying the man to a chair. The two waited a good 30 minutes sitting in awkward silence until they heard Rául groan out in pain “What the fu-…” Seth got up from one of the couches & splashed a cup of water in the Drug lord’s face “Wake up sunshine we have a few things to talk about.” Rául glared up at Seth “Why would I tell you shit?” Cody squinted and rolling up his sleeves as he started going into detail “We know your association with Roman. And we think you may know a thing or two about some things that we don’t. Now i would heavily recommend fessing up to us before we get someone else you are heavily familiar with involved and you really would not want her involved.”

Rául scoffed “Her? A woman? You expect me to be scared of a woman?” Cody chuckled and looked over at Seth rubbing his jaw “We know you’re not as a badass as you think you are especially when she has dealt with you & your men by herself before Rául. So entertain us as to why Roman was planting cameras around the manor.” Cody sneered out at the grown man before he got directly spat on. Seth widened his eyes & looked over at the black haired male who was now pissed off while Rául made himself busy talking shit that he hadn’t even noticed Sasha walked into the room & then suddenly he became silent “What? I thought you were to much of a badass to be scared by a woman, what happened to that?” She taunted the man tied up in a chair while he stumbled on a few words “I-We-You-They-“ Cody snorted at the sudden shock in Ráuls body but then became serious as Sasha slapped the man across his face & held a knife to his throat “Answer the fucking question.” She commanded while repeating Cody’s previous question “Why was Roman planting cameras around my fucking home huh?” Rául cried out as she gripped at the back of his head pressing the knife closer to his skin.

“Sas-“ Cody tried taking the knife away but she pointed it at him glaring “Stay the hell out of this and let me deal with it.” She warned and he held out his hands in defense backing up while Seth grabbed his shoulder pulling him next to him “Just let her do her thing.” She shouted at the man again “Cops! H-He was going to collect footage o-on your g-guy’s business and bring it to t-the authorities in hopes of taking over!” Rául blurted out. Sasha looked over at Seth & glared before pulling away still holding the knife while Seth sighed “Well that was eas-“ Sasha turned around quickly & slit Ráuls throat making Cody yell out “Goddamnit Sasha!!” She shrugged & tossed the bloody knife across the room “What?! We can’t just let him out without worrying about whether or not he was going to tell people or not about tonight.” Seth had a hand over his mouth while Cody glared “Yeah well your mother didn’t say to fucking slice and dice someone’s fucking throat open!”

“Oh boo fucking hoo it’s not like you haven’t done it before!” He shook his head “No Sasha! I fucking haven’t! Are you fucking high?! Now we have to clean up the goddamn mess YOU made because you can’t follow fucking instructions without adding onto them! ” She rolled her eyes while Cody scolding her “Hey guy’s maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation in-front of a dead fucking body.” Sasha scoffed “Seth get rid of whoever the fuck is in here and bring me towels, bleach & trash bags. I’ll handle it.”

Cody glared pointing his finger in her face “You don’t touch a goddamn thing!” She smacked his finger out of her face “If you point your stupid fucking finger in my face one more time i swear to fucking god I’ll cut it off in your goddamn sleep!” She shouted.

Hours later the house was rid of people Cody & Sasha scrubbed at the floor & got rid of any evidence a murder literally happened. The room was silent and filled with rustling since Seth was stuffing the upper body in a trash bag and tying it with the other trash bag that already covered the middle to lower of Ráuls body. Randy shoved the doors open seeing Cody & Sasha freeze mid floor scrubbing “I can’t leave the three of you alone for shit can i?” Seth smiled nervously before noticing a disheveled Marianna follow behind him with lipstick stains across her face & Randy’s belt a little undone before smirking “But yet it seemed to benefit you GREATLY!” Sasha teased while Cody threw a bloody sponge at her “Fucking focus!” She glared and threw it back at him ten times harder. Randy stared at Seth & gave him a stern look “Did you even deal with whoever the fuck Barbra needed you to deal with.”

Seth squinted in confusion “Do you not see me doing that right now Randal?” Sasha snickered to herself as she wiped up the soap off of the ground and grabbed the bucket of bloody water while Cody helped open the lounge rooms windows as she poured the water into a bush that laid right next to the outer part of the window while Randy sighed helping Seth pick up the bagged up body out of the house & into the trunk of his car while grabbing his keys “Seth & I are gonna be back later. And when I get back I’m having a discussion with each and every one of you.” Marianna smiled “Even me?” She teased as she was walked off not noticing Randy gave her a look and left with Seth. Cody turned to Sasha & Approached her “Your a pain in my goddamn ass you know that? We had the fucking information we needed and you just took it upon yourself to take things even further.” She smirked shrugging her shoulders “What can I say Cody. I like violence.” He glared & grabbed her by the hair and got in her face “Loose the fucking attitude before I make you.” She smiled looking up at him “And how are you gonna do that huh?” He clenched his jaw and almost spoke but she cut him off “If you think you could fuck it out of me you better think again. No matter how close you get to me I will never let you fuck me. Never in a million years.”

He quirked up a brow as she shoved him off & made her way upstairs & faced Athena on her way to her bedroom “Sas-“ “I don’t think you need to be speaking to me right now either. Wouldn’t want me to have my way with you.” She warned before shoving Athena out of her way as she went into her room. Cody looked up at Athena & scoffed shaking his head, once she made it down the stairs & pouted placing her hands around his shoulders “I haven’t been alone with you in weeks, ‘feels like she’s getting inbetween u-” Cody pushed her away glaring “Athena there was never an Us it was just a stupid fucking moment of me & you screwing for entertainment and me realizing I still have a thing for Sasha. Whatever game you’re playing at it won’t last long.” She glared back and crossed her arms “And yet she doesn’t want anything to do with you? She only interacts with you because it’s entertainment & you know it Cody. I see the moments where you both make out & she acts like she’s interested but she isn’t. If I were you I’d drop her. But apparently your to whipped for pussy you haven’t had in 7-8 years.” She snapped before shoving past Cody while he stood there for a moment & shook his head making his way up the stairs & storming into Sasha’s bedroom.

“Cody what the fu-“ Cody grabbed her wrist & hovered over her on the bed “Shut up, shut your fucking mouth, I don’t care how much you hate me goddamnit You’re going to realize you belong to me, not Athena, not Roman, ME. & you’re going to realize that tonight & every other night for the rest of your fucking life understand?” Sasha smirked and tugged at his hair “You finally grew some fucking bal-“ Cody flipped her over on the bed and smacked her on the ass before wrapping his hand around her throat “Stop running your fucking mouth like a goddamn brat Sasha I’m tired of it.” She bit down on her lip & watched as Cody sat up and snatched her pocket knife out of her bedside table & pressed it against her thigh “Can I?” He asked while she pressed her face into the pillows nodding, He knew for years she had a thing for knives & even liked the idea of him marking her in some sort of fucked up way but he wanted her verbal consent so he smacked her ass harder causing her to let out a loud moan before nodding “F-Fuck! Yes! D-Do whatever!” She cried out while he grinned & pressed the knife up against the back of her thigh & soon started cutting his initials into her skin while she let out a strained cry

“What’s the matter baby? Not so tough now are you huh, Is this what you needed sweetheart? Someone to put you in your fucking place and make you stop acting like a spoiled little bitch?” She nodded her head moaning at his harsh words before he finally set the knife down staring at his creature proudly before unbuckling his belt “I fucking own you, understand? Your mine, only mine, I don’t care how much you hate my guts and want me dead I own you.” He snatched off her panties from under her dress after sitting up and taking off his jeans while she cried out from the mixture of pain and pleasure nodding her head vigorous and let out a loud moan as Cody shoved his two fingers into her cunt & started pumping them at a quick pace before leaning down pressing his lips against her neck & biting her skin while her hips bucked up against his wrist every time he curled his fingers inside of her pussy causing her to clench around them and moan loudly

“Yeah? You fucking like that don’t you? You missed me this fucking much? How do you expect to take my cock soon when you can barely handle my fingers baby?” He muttered in her ear while her eyes were rolled back & tears streaming down her face “F-Fuck You!” He grinned pulling his fingers out & quickly smacked her clit making her squeal and grab at his arms before he grabbed the knife again and carved his initials onto her lower stomach before his fingers smearing her blood around his stomach with a smirk invading his face before he gave her the knife “Cut me, Mark me I don’t fucking care Sasha I want everyone in this goddamn city to know You own me.” He mumbled against her mouth while she breathed heavily as his hand was still placed on-top of hers “Your sick in the head” she mumbled while she started cutting her name into his chest while he groaned “Your just as fucked up in the head as I am sweetheart, Damn near close to cumming over me slashing you up like the dumb fucking whore you are.” He smirked while she leaned down licking up the blood from his chest before he flipped her onto her back and tossed the knife across the bedroom before tugging her face closer to his “Who fucking owns you? Who is it?” She moan softly as his free hand dipped in-between her bloody thighs & toyed with her cunt

“You! Fuck- All you Cody ‘m yours!” He grinned before lightly slapping her face and biting her bottom lip “That’s right princess, your all mine. I own everything about you don’t I slut?” He ran his mouth before leaving hickeys scattered around her neck before slipping his fingers back into her pussy & thrusted them in & out of her as he marveled over how she moaned leaning her head back nodding crying out his name before cumming around his fingers as her nails dug into his arm. Cody smiled devilishly before grabbing her jaw “Look at you making a goddamn mess around my fucking hand. Dumb bitch all fucked out from my fingers alone.” He chuckled before pulling his fingers out and stuffing them in her mouth while her thighs clenched around each other as her tongue ran down his fingers before he pulled away and held her close “All fucking mine.” He mumbled as she took heavy breaths and whines every now and then. He sat up with a groan & picked her up taking her to the bathroom attached to her room and sitting her down in the tub to wash her off and disinfect the cuts along with his “Looks like a fucking murder scene in there baby.” He sighed pressing a kiss against his cheek while she hummed out tiredly. “You sit in the water & soak off while I handle the sheets alright?” She nodded tiredly while he put his jeans on and not even bothering to find hi discarded shirt before tugging the bloody sheets & blankets off her bed & exiting her bedroom only to be faced with Seth who immersed saw the blood & cut on Cody’s chest.

Cody stood there for a minute & looked down at the sheets & back up at Sasha’s older brother “For the record before you try beating my ass I did not kill your sister Seth.” Cody tried defending himself but Seth was already pissed off enough seeing the blood on her sheets. Seth tugged them out of Cody’s arms and slammed him onto the ground causing Marianna to run out of her room after hearing a slam on the floor which seemed to concern Sasha just as much who also ran out of the bedroom already dressed in shorts & a mid drift top “SETH KNOCK IT OFF!” She shouted trying to get him off of Cody who was fighting back until Seth looked over at Sasha immediately seeing Cody’s initials on her thigh followed with Barbra’s sudden voice from the stairs.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

Creds to @juceynightmare for inspo 🖤‼️

[randonauticrap]

The First Dark Morning

Pairing ~ Silvio Ricci x Reader

Word Count ~ 586

Author's Note ~ This was both painful and healing to write, and I honestly loved every second of it. Thank you SO so much my darling @jozhenji for this lovely request! This is "The first dark morning, pitch black where there once was sunlight". I hope you enjoy!

Warnings ~ Mentions of depression, negative-self talk

You were no stranger to the darkness. It twined its way around your heart like the creeping vines of ivy and stuffed you full of hemlock to choke on in your solemn silence. Your prince knew this too, staring down at you in rare, observant quiet, as you faked sleep, an internal plea to be left alone. His azure eyes flicked up to the window where the breeze slipped through the silken curtain like a spirit come to collect its acquaintance. It was still dark; the first morning of darkness at the lateness of the hour. “Of all the mornings,” he muttered under his breath, cursing the sun for failing to rise when you needed it the most. 

He knew that leaving you alone on a morning like this would only encourage the thorns further into your retreating heart, so instead he prodded one of the guards at the door to the room you shared and instructed him to wake the chef. He listed off every single food his mind’s eye remembered you enjoying, and he tried his best to bury the desperate urge to buy every jewel in the kingdom to make you happy; he learned long ago that it never helped. But desperation and panic never failed to rise in his heart at the thought that he couldn’t make you happy; that he might not ever make you happy again. The plunge his thoughts took into the dark abyss followed little logic, and ignored his pleas to see reason, going so far as to accuse him of being the source of your despondency. But… what if they were right? Being the lover of royalty was difficult enough, but the lover of a man like Silvio? 

He curled up quietly in a chair on the other side of the room, as if putting distance between you would allow a shred of light to reach you in your eclipse. But swiftly cooling sheets beside you must have taken their toll at last, and you rolled onto your back; slowly, bringing bundles of covers on your journey. You were furled so perfectly into the sheets that Silvio’s lip twitched upwards nearly on command, unable to fall any further into the dark with your precious face keeping him firmly planted in his third story bedroom. Your gentle gaze fell upon his shadow in the corner of the room and your eyebrows knit together in watery displeasure. “Silvio?” you called, your voice weak, barely there. But he heard, and his body moved before his mind, frantic to reach you, to pull you into his arms and keep you there until you smiled again.

By the time his feeble sense of awareness caught up with his surroundings, he was stroking your hair gently while you pressed your face into his chest, burrowing close like an abandoned animal. “Don’t leave me.” you mumbled into his skin, the tickle of your moving lips against his exposed torso sending a shooting pang of warmth to his heart. 

“Never.” Silvio muttered back, tucking his nose into your hair and breathing you in, his grip on your body pulling you tighter; closer; warmer. “I’m never gonna leave ya.”

“You promise?” you whispered, turning your head up to meet his eyes. There were shimmering constellations in your stare, and he smiled sadly down at you, raising his hand to cup your tear-stained cheek and wipe away the stray shooting stars. He nodded, more sure of his next utterance than any word he had ever said before. 

“Promise.”  

🎃

Tags for the Lovelies: @rhodolitesroseforclavis @aquagirl1978 @ikehoe @queengiuliettafirstlady @maries-gallery @veervers @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @xbalayage

[violettduchess]

A/N: I was really surprised and happy to see people liked Silvio's Pirate AU for @cy-inky's 1 week challenge. I had so much fun writing it, I decided to make a part 2. Here it is! (You do need to read part one to follow this, its not a stand alone fic)

WC: 1.1 k

Silvio’s thumb runs over your chin, his head is cocked to one side as he searches your face, his blue eyes alight like the seas during a summer storm.

“Seems like you gotta convince me…..Captain.”

You slap his hand away, the sound like a pistol shot in the confines of his small rented room.

“What the fuck,” he snarls, jerking away from you, sudden anger raising the color in his cheeks. 

It was perhaps a tad excessive but if you had allowed this man to touch you like that, had lost yourself in the familiar feel of his fingers on your skin, the shifting ocean of his eyes, you know it would have ended with you in his bed and an empty room in the morning, sheets twisted with the agony of abandonment, the air thick with disappointment.

No, it’s a dance you have done far too many times with Captain Silvio Ricci. Your heart is best kept locked in a steel cage, away from his grasp.

“The only convincing you need, jackass, is one look at the map and the knowledge of what kind of bounty is waiting for anyone who can follow it.” Your voice crackles with irritation, at the way his touch is still haunting your skin.

He crosses the small room in several paces, yanking open the drawer of his shoddy wooden nightstand and pulls out a flask. He petulantly takes a long pull before wiping his mouth and regarding you with narrowed eyes.

“I ain’t lettin’ you anywhere near my ship until I see the map.”

“I’m not showing it to you until you guarantee me and my crew passage on your ship.” The waters around Alexandrite are notoriously dangerous. So much so that no ship has ever traveled there and returned whole. 

No ship except his.

“The whole fucking crew? No way. I gotta watch out for my own. You and no one else.”

You shift your weight, annoyance tap-dancing across your expression. “Your boat is big enough.”

He shakes his head, his gold earring swinging in time to his stubbornness. “Uh uh. Your crew don’t know my ship. And I ain’t gonna take on the chore of babysittin’ people who have only ever sailed on your dingy.”

His jab at the size of your ship has always been one of his favorite things to provoke you with. 

You exhale through gritted teeth. “Fine. Just me.” 

There it is. That easy, irritatingly sexy grin that sends your heart rattling the bars of its cage and has other much neglected parts of you screaming for attention. 

“Well now ya just gotta show me the map and we’re good.” He leans back on the bed, resting his weight on one hand. Another familiar sight, echoing countless forgone nights spent in his cabin, in your cabin, in dockside inns like this one.

You clear your throat even though it’s dry as a bone.

“I’ll bring it to your ship in the morning. Along with a trunk of my belongings. We sail at dawn.”

Turning on heel, you can hear his voice rising as you leave. “Whaddaya mean we sail at dawn? I’m the captain! I say when we sail, you-” The closing door cuts off the rest of his words and now you’re the one grinning as you bound down the wooden steps, away from his room.

Sunrise at sea is never disappointing. You lean your arms on the wooden railing of The Sea Bitch, Silvio’s ship, watching as the wind puffs out the mainsail, urging you away from port and toward the distant, dangerous waters of Alexandrite. The sky can’t seem to decide which color to wear so she wears them all: pale pink, rich apricot, deep orange, soft lavender, arresting gold.

The crew watched you board. Some grinned knowingly, others were openly warm and welcoming, happy to see you again. But there were some crew members who quickly averted their eyes, only mumbling a welcome because you are a captain in your own right. You wonder what stories Silvio has spun behind your back, what tall tales he created to justify your absence. 

“You said one fuckin’ trunk. What you had my crew hauling wasn’t a trunk but a goddamned wardrobe.” His voice cuts through the peaceful scene, his jewelry jangling as he comes to a stop beside you, clutching the railing with his strong hands. The early sunlight winks off the deep blue stones of his many rings. One in particular catches your attention. A braided band of gold and platinum on the middle finger of his left hand. It’s easily outshined by the gaudiness of his other rings but you would know it anywhere. After all, you gave it to him one idyllic moonlit night forever ago.

The sight of it has you jerk away from him, forcing your gaze out across the water, gleaming in the early morning light. Why the hell is he still wearing it? And the moment you have the thought, your brain begins pointing a finger at you, shaking its head. Hypocrite. What is the delicate chain you wear around your ankle, hidden in your black Cavalier boot that no one ever sees but you? The silver one dotted with tiny, twinkling blue sapphires that he fastened himself with those long, nimble fingers.

“So where’d you put it? Are you kicking poor Carlo out of his quarters?” The first mate is such a polite man he probably would not mind. In fact he would probably insist it was an honor. 

Silvio turns his head and there is trouble in the glint of his blue, blue eyes, in the flash of his white teeth.

“I ain’t puttin’ out any of my crew. You’re sleepin’ in my cabin where I can keep an eye on ya.”

Shock and anger have turned your blood to lava and your reaction is just as explosive. “The fuck I am!”

He is utterly unmoved by your outburst, simply shrugging a shoulder. “I didn’t say ya gotta be in my bed. I got a couch in there.” His head tilts and his grin slides into place. “Unless, of course, ya change your mind and then I’ll consider sharin’.”

And with that he walks away and you wonder as your fingers curl into your palms if he knows how dangerously close he is to you running him through with your rapier.

Risking your ship suddenly seems a much more palatable option than spending another minute with him. You turn your gaze towards the port which is already only a smudge in the distance.

Too late now. 

You sigh, turning back to the ocean and bracing yourself on the railing.

You’ve made your bed and you have to lie in it.

But you’ll be damned if it includes Captain Silvio Ricci ever again.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @bellerose-arcana @ikemen-writer @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @mxrmaid-poet @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

An old Captain's Song

Silvio Ricci x reader

Navi.

Warnings: pirate!silvio, siren!reader

Autumn Festival 2024

Wordcount: 500+

The water was an impenetrable dark blue where he looked upon the waves. Foam brushed against the once royal blue wood of the ship. Now, the colour was chipped and weathered from many a journey. It was lonely on deck, still he stood proud, his hair fluttering in the wind. Slowly, he stretched out his hand toward the ocean, unflinching as his frostbitten fingers complained.

This night was calmer than any night before. All he could remember was excitement. A little boy jumping on board a leaving ship, a young man – Captain for the first time – stealing a ship of the crown. And yet, in this solitude his heart beat fast.

He had first met her in a dream; saw her tugging him away from eternal light, felt her gentle touch and her sharp nails.

The songs she had sung him still rang in his heart.

She had brought him ashore and followed him since.

There was a ripple in the waves. He fixed his posture and the ocean bore him her angelic complexion. Shakily, he exhaled. She was far more beautiful than any dream could render her.

Droplets flew like crystals as she shook herself dry. Then, she met his nervous gaze and her eyes pierced him right through his chest. Her smile was stunning.

“Silvio,” she called out in that lovely sing-song of her voice. “You look so pretty.”

He blushed and hoped she did not see it in the dark. But her eyes were sharp and the amused twinkle in her eyes told him as much.

“You look heavenly.” He stumbled forward when his ears caught her giggle.

“Heavenly? Do pirates know that word?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “I do.”

At that, her gaze softened. “You look better,” she swam forward. “But thin. Are you still not eating well?”

“´ve lost my appetite.”

“Oh,” confused, she laid her head to the side. Just the way Old Lady used to when he was young. He closed his eyes, willing the image of his old Dalmatian from his mind. Those times were long gone.

“But don't worry yer pretty little head, yeah? I'll eat well soon enough.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

He chuckled. He knew she enjoyed this game, though he was unsure if that childlike entertainment made her believe that he was not in on it as well.

He longed to know the taste of her salt-tanged lips.

“How is your crew?”

“Ah, ´m sending them off soon. They're old enough to deal with ´t all by themselves.”

“But you love them.” Her tone was surprised.

“Aye. But with that growing tension… I don't know if I really wanna continue, you know sweetheart?”

“So, where will you go?” Bubbles followed the sentence and he watched her retreat further into the sea. He grinned. Sweet thing was pouting.

“Thought I'd settle down on that island you brought me to that time we met. Gotta stay with my girl, don´t I?”

At that, she almost flung herself out of the water.

“Really?”

“Course,” He leaned over the railing. “After all, you're my woman, aren't you?”

She nodded, shy.

“Yeah you are.” His eyes were lidded as he rested his arms on the railing. “Wanna sing me a song, sweet thing?”

A bright smile spread across her lips and that alone made all the years of pain and hardship in his life worth it.

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

Chapter 42

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/155064979

After that talk with Dutch and the gang, he asked John and Charles to help him reposition the wagon more distant to the camp center. Not as far as before - wasn’t wise to sit alone in the Bayou like that as a single tent - but at least far enough to give them a modicum of quiet and privacy. Two things he had lived an entire life without and two things he now enjoyed just as much as she did. The ground was too soft to hold beams so he had swung the tent fabric over some tree branches to make it bigger and put some wood pallets on the ground with their carpet on top to walk on. It looked nowhere near as nice as their original tent but ten times better than this morning.

Then it was time to head back to the city and he changed out of his dirty, sweaty clothes and climbed on the cart to ride to Saint Denis. On the way, his mind naturally replayed the gang discussion from earlier. Let them talk it out, he thought. He knew which way most were going to fall and if he could break off at least a few of them, those few had a shot and headbutting with Dutch was worth that shot. It felt odd, making these calculations about the gang, felt like he was trying to be Dutch, but regardless of his decision to leave, he still cared for these people and if a push was all they needed to get out of the orbit of this calamity, then he was here to give it. 

Him and Dutch - that was clearly over. Had been over a while now, maybe even since the very day Savigne had followed a strutting Hosea into camp.

"The hell is that?" Arthur scoffed as he squinted towards Dutch’s tent while he wiped the blood of his recent hunt off his hands. "That might be our new temporary resident," Mary Beth sighed as she scratched out a sentence in her notebook and scribbled over it.  "We takin' guests now?" His eyes crawled over the newcomer’s pressed clothes and her clean boots.   "Not guest. Resident. Hosea says she's going to pay rent," she mumbled absentmindedly. He grunted, thinking Hosea was losing it at his old age. It was one thing to bring in the strays, another thing entirely to turn the camp into an enterprise. Folks like this among them while they had bounties on their heads? Who could be sure she wouldn't run to the law first chance she got to rat them out? He decided he would talk it out with Hosea and Dutch both. Wouldn't have to if they had asked him first, but neither man gave a damn what Arthur thought until things went south. He was a lughead when all was steady, but as soon as stuff went sideways, suddenly it was his job to fix it. Because at that point fixing it meant breaking bones, and neither gentlemen liked getting their hands dirty. Mary Beth looked up and watched as Savigne shook hands with Dutch, all serious and demure, shoulders hiked up as if she was trying hard to look confident. "Hosea says she's a cook. She's pretty, isn’t she?” Arthur had already lost interest. "Long as her money is green," he grumbled and threw the bloody towel into the dirty clothes bin. He scratched his beard and glanced over his shoulder and observed Savigne’s eyes dart around the gang, nervous as if she was in the middle of a pack of wolves. "She city folk. Ain't gonna last a week." "She might. If the brutes in this gang stay away from her. That includes you, by the way." "I ain't gonna bother her highness," he huffed, then paused. "Unless she don' pay, that is." Mary Beth's eyebrows rose at that. "You think 'm above collectin' from a woman, think again," was his added growl.

In hindsight, prophetic words.

After that, he had promptly forgotten about her and his desire to talk to Dutch and Hosea. She had made it easy enough by darting in and out of camp like a field mouse and staying out of sight, and he had made it easier still by drinking the idle hours of his vapid life away. In fact, the next time he thought of her at all was when, weeks later, he had gone to write his contribution into the camp ledger and there was her neat name with the $50 next to it. He had paged back and there it was, again and again and again. Something about the promptness, the unfailing clockwork repetition of it had miffed him. He should have felt approval of her tenacity, but instead, for whatever reason, next to Sean’s barely legible $2.50, and Uncle’s stuttering scribble of $10, the print-like neatness of her handwriting and that $50 per week had stood out like a smug upturned nose.

To this day he was unsure why this had tipped his fairly neutral opinion of her to dislike but that was the moment he had really noticed her existence, and the turning point after which he found himself complaining about her whenever the subject came up and a few times even when it hadn’t. She had done nothing disagreeable to him or to anyone else, but the more she kept to herself, the more annoyed he became. A month later when she had run up to him in Valentine, it had felt as if the gods had served her up on a platter for punishment for all the slights she hadn’t done, and Arthur Morgan had been ready to dole it out.

Or so he had thought.

Now, merely two seasons removed, here he was trying to navigate how an outlaw becomes a law abiding citizen, how a drifter builds a home, how an orphan turns into a family man. For her.

He entered the city as the short winter day darkened and turned his mind to the next problem in line:

Underdeveloped, he thought and clicked his tongue. That probably my fault, too. He was the reason she was still in this shithole in the first place, so it wasn't that far of a reach. He was no stranger to anger or guilt, but shame was not a feeling he often grappled with. And yet, this past day, that's all he had felt. It had shamed him when he had stepped out of the hut with the breakfast trays this morning, to see her sit on those crooked chairs in the mud. Had made him feel like John. Like he didn't care how his woman and his child lived or what they ate or how they fared. Shamed him that she slept in an unpacked wagon among gators and snakes. At least before, the tent had been big, airy and clean and she had had an oven and everything else that made her happy. Now she lived like the rest of them bums, but unlike them, she was no bum. 

No wonder she was distant and withdrawn. No wonder she didn’t trust him and was trying to talk him out of fatherhood - hell, a signpost would make a better father at this point because at least a signpost would do no harm. All these years he had teased John and put him down, but John had done more by her than he had. Time to eat yer humble pie, he scoffed, shaking his head. All them years naggin' how bad of a parent John was, but soon as you became one, you done the same.

He thought of that ring in his satchel and let out a frustrated breath. Clearly she had reservations about his skills as a father, so it didn’t take a genius to understand why now she wouldn’t want him as a husband either. He should have done this sooner, back when she still had confidence in him. Should have put that ring on her finger the day he bought it, soon as he returned to that hotel. She would have said yes that Sunday. And after, when his foolish choices boomeranged back as they had, he could have weathered the storm by insisting “Woman, I vowed ‘till death do us part’, and I ain’t the kind to break it”. A disgraceful idea? Sure. But in his defense, he was a selfish bastard.

Bag it, Hosea spat in his head. Pick up the damn ball and walk on. Nobody got time for your bullshit.

"'M goin', old man," he sighed to himself. "'M goin'."

When she came out, he was waiting. Maybe because he had missed her so fiercely this past month, or maybe she had changed in womanly ways he couldn’t understand, but even after a day of work and clearly tired, she looked stunning to him. It was one of those things he couldn't wrap his head around - how and when she had gone from the mousy, plain person who had showed up in camp to the splendid woman she was today. The few precious things in his life he had to his own, he had always felt possessive about, but there was a softness and vulnerability to her now that intensified how protective he felt of her. He wondered if that circling shark was always going to be a feature in his life now, if he was ever going to feel less on edge. Or was he now forever doomed to lie awake at night, pondering the ways the world could hurt his family and how to circumvent them?

She spotted him and in that first unguarded moment her face always betrayed how much she cared for him and it swelled his heart. Thirty six years on this dust ball and the number of people who had ever looked at him like that, he could count on one hand. The ones who stuck around, on one finger. 

He offered her his arm and she accepted. They strolled through the evening streets of Saint Denis. This city held both some of the best and some of the worst memories for him. But he liked it better after dark, when the dirty and the ugly was concealed by shadows and the people looked more agreeable under the soft glow of light bulbs. They passed through a street with food vendors who were bracing the cold and hoping to unload the last of their wares and walked through broken English and puffs of breaths in the chilly winter night and the sharp tang of spice, the aroma of warm bread. His stomach grumbled. Guarma had starved him good and proper and despite eating several meals since his return, his hunger wasn't sated. Savigne stopped at a stall selling tamales and he followed her gaze to the vendor's wife who had a kid strapped to her back. 

"Hola," she said and approached the woman. Savigne didn't speak Spanish and by the looks of it, the woman didn't speak English, but that didn't stop them none as they gestured and oohed and ahhed and their hands fluttered like courting butterflies. It fascinated him how women who had never met stepped up to one another without hesitation and ran their fingers across each other’s arms and squeezed hands and talked without speaking. Arthur glanced at the vendor and returned the offered grin with a curt nod and an uncomfortable shifting of his feet. He decided to buy two tamales because it seemed like the polite thing to do as the women "chatted". When he was told the price he wished he spoke Spanish after all, just so he could express his opinions about highway robbery. Still, he didn't back out because it would look cheap and well, nobody wanted a cheap husband or a cheap father. So he paid and chewed on his tamale as Savigne ran her fingers over the sash that was criss-crossed across the woman's torso and circled her to inspect how it was wound up in the back. She gently patted the swaddled pupa of a baby with just a shock of black hair showing and walked back around.

She called Arthur over and asked if he had his journal on him and when he said he did she asked him to draw the lady. He handed her the tamales as he dug into his satchel, produced a pen and made a quick sketch of the woman who was excited to pose.

“Make sure you draw how she tied her sash,” Savigne muttered, straining to see the page in the dim light. Then she smiled and twirled a finger in the air and the mother turned so he can draw the back. When he was done both her and her vendor husband walked over and looked at his drawing and were unreasonably happy and the husband offered his “buenos”s and a free tamale.

The women waved goodbye as if they’ve know each other for years and Savigne gave him the third tamale as she nibbled on hers.

He wanted to ask what she was thinking and if she meant to strap the grub on like that but there was a chance that she would turn tense and evasive again, so he swallowed his questions.

She handed him her own tamale to finish as they approached the clinic.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"I don’t like pork anymore.”

When they sat down in the waiting room, she picked up and flitted through a magazine about flower arrangements. The clinic was quiet at this hour with just another person there. His ailment - a dry cough - made Arthur give him a narrow eyed hard stare. The man looked back, somewhat apologetic. Arthur shifted his eyes at Savigne, then back at him and subtly jabbed his chin towards the far end of the room. The man seemed offended at this. Arthur sat up and slowly raised his eyebrows as in “Really?”, and the fool finally wilted under his frosty gaze, staggered to his feet and moved a few chairs down.

“Look how pretty,” she showed him a page. “Like food, but with flowers.”

He hummed with appreciation but it was pretend because the notion that food had to be pretty made no sense to him. Lazan ya looked plain and tasted delicious.

The examination room was simple and clean which he approved. But one look at this Polio guy, and his hackles rose. Ridiculously good looking for a doctor. His eyes twitched to Savigne who was gazing at the doctor as if he was walking on water. His dislike only intensified at this and he played with the hat in his hands to distract himself.

Polio was affable enough and gave him a handshake when they were introduced. Surgeon hands - smooth and firm.

“I’m glad to meet you. I was told you would return, happy to see it.” 

When Savigne had removed that stupid ring as she exited the steakhouse, he had been relieved. It bothered him that she had a fake ring on her finger and it bothered him more that this was due to his own cowardice. But now he kind of wished she hadn’t because here he was, standing in front of Polio with his baby in her and no ring on her finger like a deadbeat loser.

Since he had managed to strongarm his way into the doctor's appointment, he felt like he had to justify being here, so he asked the first question that popped up in his head: “She allowed to ride?”

“I recommend she doesn’t ride a horse, no,” Polio responded. Arthur's confidence surged at that because this assured him that he had done good by being “insufferable” as she had called it this morning. Savigne gave him an annoyed side eye, but he latched on to that feeling of righteousness and plowed on:

“Was told the gr-baby could be…” he cleared this throat, “…healthier.”

“Yes,” was the somber response. “But nothing we can’t catch up with. Your…” there was a short moment where he sensed the doctor debate with himself what to call her,  “…partner needs to eat more. Rest more. Work less. And less tension is always recommended.”

“I’m doing all those things,” Savigne objected. It didn’t escape his attention that the usual sullen ire in her tone was replaced by polite defensiveness.

“I’m confident you can do better, Ms. Ricci,” he chided her and the demure way she accepted this instead of the bristling upturn of a nose Arthur would have received annoyed him too.

The doctor turned to him again. “Now that you’re back, I expect improvement.”

“Yes, sir.” was his polite response. What did this fool of a man know? She might be sitting here all nice and proper, but he had tamed wild horses with less effort than it took to make Savigne do something she didn't want to do. 

Polio settled in his chair. “Let’s take your vitals.”

He inspected her and she seemed to enjoy his attention. When he was done, she didn’t even need to be asked before she unbuttoned her shirt so he can glide his hands over her bump. Jealousy flared up at him. Sure, he knew this was the doctor and he knew he had to do the inspecting, and he also knew that he himself hadn't earned the privilege yet, but the fact that this man was so readily granted access to something that was denied to him bruised his ego.  

Polio put in his stethoscope and listened. “Very healthy heartbeat though,” he said with approval. “Would you like to hear, Mister…?”

“Kilgore,” he jumped in. “And yes, I would.”

Polio offered the earpiece to him and then glided the stethoscope bell along Savigne’s stomach. 

Suddenly, the beating of a rapid pulse, the same rabbit heart from his Guarma dream drumming in his ears. We meet at last, he thought as the familiar rapture ran through him, You called and I came. I will always come. He grinned despite himself and huffed a cough of delight. Thank you for saving me. Thank you, thank you, thank you…His hand itched but he restrained himself and didn’t touch her.

“Strong heart,” Polio complimented. A better man would think “I yelled at this woman, disappeared on her, then slept on a bedroll like a sullen child, then gone disappeared again and caused her grief and hurt”. But being who he was, he just grinned with pride as if he had crafted the heart himself. He nodded, a little overcome and handed him back the headset and caught her eyes. The unguarded smile on her face stuttered his breath.

When they stepped outside he was still reeling, boiling with emotions he couldn’t describe. Saint Denis flashed by him with color and light and music and he hardly noticed, focused on not tangling his feet.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, giving him furtive looks.

“Nothin’s wrong,” he sniffed. “Everythin’s right.” He folded his hand on hers that was sitting on the crook of his arm.

“Did you like the doctor?”

“Man looks too young to be a doctor,” was his careful response.

“He’s very clean,” she sighed wistfully.

“That’s important,” he conceded.

They walked on and he wasn’t sure where they were going and to be honest, he didn’t care that much either. His eye was turned inward; something was percolating in him, bubbling and threatening to brim over, but he couldn’t name it. He felt light headed and drunk and short of breath. Next alley they were passing he snatched her hand and drew her in and a few feet away from the foot traffic he pushed her shoulders against the wall to kiss her. It threw her off but only for a moment and his battered old heart drummed against his rib cage when her small hands crawled up his shoulders and danced in the hair on the back of his neck as she kissed him back. She tasted like the peppermint candy that she had snatched from the doctor’s office and offhandedly flashed at him with a mischievous grin, and her mouth was soft and warm. He was careful not to crush her as he leaned into her, his palm pushing up her face as he ran his tongue over her teeth and suckled on her lips, feeling himself increasingly heady. There was an insatiable hunger in him and when she moaned into his mouth it shed its strange, unknown skin and quickly morphed into lust.

Five weeks wasn’t that long of a time; before Savigne he had gone far longer without a woman. But that was before he was spoiled by waking up next to one for months. He felt famished for her and increasingly reckless that they were just off a busy street in a crowded city as the flutter of her pulse under his lips and the sighs in his ear drove him to the quicksand marshes where a man could lose his footing and sink. Distantly he felt himself grow hard and that familiar pressure started building in his gut. He swallowed and broke off and pulled back to get himself under control, or else he would ravish her right here and now.

He placed his forehead on hers and panted with the effort to overcome his rising need, the swelling of temptation. Her hands fluttered on his cheeks and streaked down his chest. There was so much in him, too damn much, and he felt he had to pour the cup to regain his composure, but his head insisted that a dark side street in Saint Denis was no place to do it. 

“You okay?” she breathed and the thickness of her voice told him she wouldn’t refuse him if he gave in, which only served to harden him further.

“About that…hotel…” he rasped and felt her cheek stretch with a smile in the cup of his right hand. Clearly she enjoyed the affect she had on him.  

“Back one day and you���re already trying to get under my skirt. Not sure you deserve it, Mister Morgan.”

He groaned as she placed a playful long kiss under his ear. He braced his arms on both sides of her head and angled his hips out in an herculean effort to lasso back his runaway desire. She took pity on him then and dropped her hands. 

“How about we go Saturday? So we can have a lazy morning. Like last time.”

“The hell is it today?” he groaned.

Her amusement tinkled in his ears. “Thursday.”

“Fuck!” he hissed.

She laughed again and he pressed his mouth so he wouldn’t dive in and kiss the laughter off her lips.

“But it depends.”

“On?”

He opened his eyes and there she was, eyes glittering with mischief. “You might want to avoid throwing me against a tree again.”

He blinked rapidly as he recalled that night in the woods. The memory of how she had fallen to her knees in front of him and almost tore the buttons of his trousers off made his cock twitch. He groaned and bounced off the wall, wiping his palms over his face to come down from his intoxication. 

“Savigne, ‘m warnin’ ya, you keep that up, we gonna get in trouble.”

“Keep what up?” she said innocently as she dug into her skirt pocket and retrieved another candy. He watched her unwrap it and press it between those delectable lips and quickly looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Undoubtedly she was teasing him. Desire reared in him like a wild horse, indomitable and determined to throw him off. You would think a man of his age would be the master of his base urges but that was easier said than done. He swallowed, bewildered by the churning of his emotions, one pouring into the other, one melting into the next.

“Think you missed me, too,” she smiled, rolling the candy in her mouth and Arthur’s mouth went dry as it bulged against a cheek. His cock twitched again and the tension in his thighs tightened as he took a frustrated breath, stepping away. 

He gave her a warning look and she sobered a little at his expression. “Saturday. No backin' out.” He offered his arm again and she took it and guided him to the stable where they picket up Frost and Cricket and the cart.

She gasped when they rolled in and she saw the new tent, promptly ignored his calls to wait for him to come around as she scrambled down the cart and ran off. He took a defeated breath, unhooked the horses and followed, but it pleased him to catch her stroll around enchanted, touching the objects on the crates to put them in their perfect positions.

“You like it?” he asked, even though it was obvious she did and his heart lurched when she beamed at him. It was ridiculously easy to please Savigne.  

“Looks very nice,” she grinned.

He saw the subtle grimace that flew over her face at the state of his photos pinned on the crate and he walked up to fix the corners.

“Don’ fly off the handle, but ‘m thinkin’ maybe you can work less?” he asked carefully. She was quiet for a while as she sat down on the bed and chewed her lip.

"We need the money," was her cautious response.

He sat next to her. "'M here now. We have more money." 

"I know," she played with the candy wrapper she found in her skirt pocket. "But we also have...you know...additions."

"Savigne," he sighed, placing his hat on the nearby crate. "You gotta let me do somethin'."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't do what yer doin'. But this my child, too. I can do the money, you ain't gotta worry 'bout that."

These were the things she was skittish about and he tried not to take it personally. Even on their best days, she had balked at the notion of depending on someone other than herself and it shouldn't surprise him that the trust she had in him had only eroded since. She gave him a furtive look like she understood where he was coming from and relented: “I’ll talk to Luther about reducing my hours. Or days. But I just started back there and they might say no.”

If it was up to him, she wouldn't be working at all, but he knew her well enough to bide his time for a better moment. It’s been a day. Knock, don’t kick the door in.

“I’m happy we’re not in the middle of camp anymore,” she grinned in an effort to lead the conversation back to a positive note. “You said honest, so here is honesty: I didn’t miss the rest of them.”

He chuckled at that. “What ‘bout Bill?” he teased.

“It sucked that I had to leave his ice box behind!” she bemoaned.

“Then why did ya?”

She looked at him like he was a fool. “I was too embarrassed to ask Charles to lift it for me. He was the only one left to do the heavy lifting and he had a whole camp to dismantle. So I told him he doesn’t have to bother with it.”

He snorted at that. “That what you get for lyin’.”

“I was trying to be considerate,” she grumbled. “I don’t mind Bill and Javier. But you know I don’t like Dutch. And I’m not celebrating Micah’s return, either.”

“Micah ain’t returned. He dead.”

Her head snapped up to him. “How?”

He gave her a long look, uncertain if he should say it. He was still smarting from her reaction to Ecco’s demise. She had admitted that she was thankful when she thought he was asleep, but he wasn’t sure if she really understood or agreed that it had been necessary. That the only thing that could stop a bad man was another bad man - a killer. Before he could wobble on this point and slide back to dishonesty again, he made himself say it:

“Killed him.”

“You killed him?” she started.

He nodded. “Honest,” was his quiet reminder. “No lies.” 

“Why?” was her late timid whisper.

“Knew he was gonna come after you if I didn’ make it.”

She blinked at him. “How do you know that?”

“Was his nature,” he said simply.

She thought on this for a long time, chewing her lip as he watched her face. Whenever he engaged in violence around her, there was the same trepidation in his heart: that she would revile him. That she would fear him. That she couldn’t make peace with who he was, because this was the man he was now and forever, this was his nature, and he wasn’t sorry.

He was a little surprised when she finally looked up at him and nodded. “I understand.”

“How so?” was his curious question.

She shrugged and leaned down to untie her boots. “You’re my man, aren’t you?”

Said so casually, so naturally that it took his breath away.

There was a part of him, a more guarded and cautious part that hoped she would never understand what hearing that did to him. How terrifying it was, the power she had over him.

“I have to change into my nightgown," she said as she slid her boots off. "Turn around.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“I ain’t turnin’ ‘round,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

Her eyes blazed at him with unexpected ire. "Why, so you can call me massive?"

"Listen here, I ain't never-"

"Turn around."

He exhaled in frustration and walked up to the flap of the tent, faced the inky darkness and fished out a cigarette.

“‘M telling ya now, this ain’t gonna fly Saturday.”

“Doctor said no tension, so remember that.”

“Stop cookin' up tension then,” he lobed over his shoulder.

“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled under her breath. “Imagine never having to blow up like a balloon!”

"Woman, yer barely showin'."

"Sure, and I'm wearing this corset for fun, not because my breasts are the size of melons!"

He shifted on his feet and tried to ignore his traitorous, pathetic cock twitching at the notion. In his head, a swift calculation of how many hours were left for Saturday which released a burst of saliva in his mouth as if he was a hungry beast. He inhaled a frustrated breath and made an effort to think of something else - anything else. 

"Told John he can still come with," he said to the Bayou. "To the cabin. Till Spring."

Her "Okay," was unexpected. When he looked over his shoulder she had changed into her bed wear and was loosening her hair. He threw out his cigarette and walked in to undress, too.

"Y'aint gonna argue?"

"Why would I argue? I like John," she watched him in the mirror. "He was very nice to me." Then she paused and gave him a look. "Of course, Abigail will be there too..."

His eyes flicked to her and back as he pulled up his cotton pants. "So?”

"So…” she said pointedly, climbing on the bed, "...a lot, and I mean a lot will depend on how you handle the next few months, Arthur."

"The hell that mean?"

"You know exactly what," she muttered as she lied down.

"Savigne, I haven't touched this woman in years. And John is my brother."

The look she threw his way made him wonder if he had done the right thing by inviting the Marstons. "I'm just warning you, that's all."

"'Bout?"

"Conduct." She said coolly and pulled the thin cover over herself. 

Whatever that meant. Good job plantin' this mine field under yer feet, he thought. He ran his palms over his face and was about to turn the lantern off when the word triggered something in his head and he reached to his shirt to retrieve the folded paper from his pocket. "Look here," he said softly. "This for you."

"What is it?" she sat up, surprised.

"Jasmine," he said as she carefully unfolded the paper. "Was told to plant it home." Her face lit up as she carefully pushed the dark pellets around. He cleared his throat. "Ain't the ordinary kind. Heirloom," he added to fluff up the somewhat underwhelming gift, ironically as Hercule had done. 

"Okay," she grinned, carefully folding the paper back up and placing it on the nearby crate. "Thank you. I love it." She paused for a moment and looked at him from under her eyebrows. "You know...that's the first thing you ever gifted me."

"Lies," he huffed. But in his head, he was bewildered to find it true. Christ, grub really must have made her stupid, why else would she stick with you?

She didn't argue and lied back down and was a lot less stiff and frosty and she didn’t slap his hand away like last night. He enveloped her like before and kissed her temple, then her neck. 

"That enough to get under yer skirt?" he grinned. Then he added a hasty “Just kiddin’,” when she tensed in his arms.

"I wonder what kind of soil they like," she whispered a while later. "And climate." A moment passed. "There is a gardener shop in the city, I'll ask them tomorrow." He smiled to himself, happy with her enthusiasm. Then she said something that surprised him:

"You think we can plant one on Hosea's grave?"

"Sure,” was his belated answer.

“He was the one who invited me to the camp,” she pondered quietly. “And he was always nice to me. I miss him.”

“Miss him too,” he sighed as the familiar dagger swiped at his heart. “Was more a father to me than m’own.”

Her hand closed over his and squeezed gently and he relished her closeness, her warmth, her compassion. It occurred to him that by a twist of fate, a single fork in the road he could be lying in that hut with the others right now and have nobody but himself as he faced this loss. A deep gratitude for his fortune washed over him. Grief was a lot easier to carry with her by his side.

Sometime during the night she gasped and sat up and he woke up and reflexively did the same.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, still disoriented. The vestiges of Guarma followed him around, probably because the Bayou climate and mood was similar enough to the jungle and he often woke up in the night, unsure where he was. He tried to shake his sleep off and was about to ask again when she said:

“It kicked.”

For a moment he thought she was startled out of a dream, too. “What?”

“The grub. Just kicked.”

He stilled to process this as his mind went blank. “What does that mean?” was his nervous question. He had barely been around for Eliza’s pregnancy and obviously he hadn’t shared a tent with Abigail or had had extensive conversations about her day to day condition, so to say that his knowledge in the matter was massively lacking was an understatement. In his head he calculated how quickly he can prepare the cart, throw her in the back and how fast he can fly to Saint Denis. Polio had said that the clinic had a doctor sleeping there for after hours in case of emergencies, but had also given Arthur his card with his home address. Then it occurred to him that he could just run over to the hut and wake up Abigail. He threw his legs off the bed and was about to do that when her chuckle in the dark surprised him.

“It’s fine.” She searched for and found his hand. “Polleux said they sometimes do that. Means they’re getting stronger.”

He woke up all the way when she guided his hand to her belly and held it there. His heart staggered and he was stupefied that this major barrier was being lifted for him right here, right now, just like that. Moments later he felt it: a tap, gentle but unmistakable, like a bird flapping open a wing in his palm. He exhaled a huff of surprise and moved to sit closer behind her left shoulder. They stilled and waited, then it happened again. That breathlessness came over him again and his head swam.

“We sure this is fine?” he whispered, cautious. I need to read a damn book or somethin’ he thought to himself.

“Yeah. It’s a good thing. Like the heartbeat.” He heard the grin in her voice and took a shuddering breath as his shoulders relaxed.

He circled his palm over the thin cotton of her nightgown, and kissed her shoulder, then her neck. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” she mumbled. “But mostly it just feels weird.”

Her head turned to him and he moved his hand off her belly to gently grip her chin as he leaned over her shoulder to kiss her, slow and deep.

“I’m a little scared,” she said quietly when he broke it. Her eyelashes whispered against his cheek.

What he thought was ‘Sounds nice, because I’m fucking terrified’, but what he said was “Gonna be fine.”

She sighed and lied back down and he adjusted to lie behind her but kept his hand on her bump. He felt the kick twice more, then nothing.

Conflicting emotions washed over him. A healthy dose of contentment but also that old, familiar guilt that had reared its head years later and refused to duck back down. Then guilt for feeling guilt - for letting the past mar the present.

He had missed all this with Isaac, had abandoned him to grow alone, unheard as he tapped his wing out to the world. But the deeper truth was that even now, with the wisdom of hindsight, he couldn’t see himself doing this with Eliza and he felt guilt for that, too. His relationship with Savigne had a nasty way of retrieving the past. Like cleaning under the bed and finding a dead mouse. Now that the present had caught up to the past, he couldn’t shake that shadow that kept chasing him. He hadn’t loved Eliza - hell, without the booze in his veins, he had barely liked her, but he kept thinking if maybe he could have, if he had tried. Wasn’t that hard to like someone, was it? You just had to look at the good and ignore the bad - like looking around a scar, as Hosea had said. Why was it so easy with Savigne and had felt impossible with Eliza?

He loved it when Savigne needed him, but when Eliza had - and understandably so - he had found it stifling. He loved lying here, but the notion of doing the same with Eliza had turned his stomach and other than that drunken fucking, he had never attempted to share a bed with her again. Even when he visited and she had offered, then had practically begged him, he had stubbornly chosen to camp outside. To discourage her from thinking this was more than it was, he had told himself but deep in his gut, he had enjoyed the cruelty of it. And when the rejection had soured him to her with each visit, he had enjoyed that too. It had validated his feelings for her - of course he didn’t like her when she was so vile to him, but all the while he was the reason for that vileness.

Why? This many years later, looking at it from this far away, he sensed it had been a feeble attempt to distance himself of both the foolishness of that drunk fucking and the consequences of it. His attempt to unsee his own his mistakes and the consequences of his mistakes. Wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t served him all those drinks, would it? Nevermind that he had ordered those drinks. Wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t flirted with him (he had done the flirting), wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t invited him to that barn (he had done the inviting), wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t seduced him (he was the one who had gotten handsy), wouldn’t have happened if he had pulled out but how could he pull out if he was drunk and he was drunk because she had served him all those drinks. On and on the circle went but the result was the same: she had done this and now she wanted him to suffer for it and by god, he wasn’t gonna. As if getting pregnant by a man who didn’t care for her wasn’t the bigger suffering. As if growing big alone while being pushed out of town wasn’t suffering. As if going through pregnancy alone and ostracized, giving birth alone, raising a child alone, watching a sullen man come and go as he pleased to throw a few dollars on the table and acting all magnanimous about it wasn’t the real suffering.

There was that shame again. So much shame. Like that dead mouse that had been stinking up the room for years and now revealed: a mountain of naked, stomach turning shame. What was the point of doing anything right when none of that could ever undo the wrong he did? There was no redemption for him and never would be. Ever. What was the point of any of it?

He shifted a little and Savigne, now asleep, stirred against him. And then he thought because I have to save that one person in town and hope that’s enough. Wasn’t going to be enough, nothing was going to be enough, but he sensed that the tiny pin that massive board was balanced on, that tender hope was the point.

The idea soothed him and he splayed his hand on her belly as took a deep breath.

My yesterdays will follow me like a shadow and there ain’t no gettin’ rid of a shadow. But if I keep my face to the sun, they’ll remain to my back and can’t darken my todays.

Here’s hoping, anyway.

[weemsfreak]

The Board

Pt 9: The Call

Larissa Weems x Anura Ricci :) ~2900 words

Plot and fluff

Pt 8

Late January

 You were in California, helping with the grand opening of a new outcast school. The board made your accommodations for trips, which always included reservations at really fancy restaurants. That is why you found yourself dining at a luxurious restaurant one evening. Although surrounded by a very glorious ambiance, you couldn't help but think about that fact that you were there alone. You thought about how you were ready to move on. After all of these years working for the board and being with your husband and living in New York, you wanted to move on. You wanted the humbleness of a small town again, you wanted to be welcome places, you wanted actual friends.

You could run a small shop, or tutor, or be an interpreter. You wanted to do more, you knew you could do more. Not that outcast school organization and safety wasn't something important, hell you saved Larissa from Mr. Martell, he wasn't any help. You were thinking of Larissa again, of course you were, perhaps you always were. Just as you thought of her, a tall woman with white hair caught your eye. She sat down in a booth one over from you and your heart skipped a beat. Something about her made you sad. You knew it wasn't Larissa, it wasn't the tall pin up shapeshifter. It wasn't your tall pin up shapeshifter with her motherly instincts and her kitten heels and her red lips and her British accent, god damn her accent, her voice. God, you haven't seen her in months, you haven't hugged her in months. Had Larissa found a new friend? Had any of her co-corkers comforted her and said 'I'm here for you' when she needed it? Had any of them hugged her and held her when she wanted touch? Had any of them made her breakfast in the morning after they slept in her bed? You hoped that someone did all of those things for Larissa, but at the same time, you prayed you were the only one. You have been thinking for the past two months, longer actually. You thought that you thought too much, your husband would tell you that. So what if you thought too much, what's wrong with that? Was Larissa mad at you because of how you left things? It wasn't her fault, but it wasn't yours either. They drug you out of there, they drug you away from Nevermore, away from her. If it was up to you, you would've ran after her and never left her side until she knew your intentions were good. If she had of screamed at you, slammed a door on you, ignored you, berated you, hell even stepped on you, you would've never left until she knew that you cared, until she knew that you could never live with yourself if you hurt her. You feared that you had hurt her unintentionally. You hoped and prayed that Larissa didn't hate you. You wanted to contact her, call her and ask how she was. Ultimately, you were scared of her rejection, but you were more scared of never seeing her again. You knew what you had to do now. Watching the blonde in the next booth over, she saw you looking and gave you a smile. You thought of Larissa's smile, how you wished she was Larissa. It was decided then. You were to move to Jericho, you were to leave and go there by yourself, and that was final. You didn't know in all honesty if Larissa liked you in the same way, or if there was even hope of being with her as more than friends. Hell you knew about Morticia, but maybe she didn't really like women. You just knew you couldn't stay like this forever, you had to go there, you had to take a chance.

Wednesday sat in front of Principal Weems' desk for her weekly meeting. She could tell principal Weems had something on her mind. Usually, the principal would be scolding her on what to do and what not to do, but today she wasn't even paying the pigtailed girl any attention. Wednesday had entered her office and sat, waiting, without the principal even giving her a glance. The principal was zoned out, lost from the world entirely. "Principal Weems" Wednesday said, slight concern in her voice. Wednesday was an observant girl, but most of the time she was unbothered and uninterested. The principal startled and looked wide eyed at the girl in front of her. "Are you alright?" Wednesday deadpanned. Larissa had been letting herself get in her own head. Lately, she had been forgetting about what she was supposed to be doing, and getting off task like a child. Larissa had been thinking about the day you left. She had been beating herself up for not knowing, Italian? She guessed it was Italian. She was hurt that day, the day your co-workers visited. She thought that you were making fun of her, she knew that they were making fun of her. She thought you were finally done pretending that you agreed with her antics, done pretending that you took her side. The more she thought after that day though, the more she thought you may have been sticking up for her. "Yes, Ms. Addams, apologies. I've just been thinking about Mx. Ricci, I haven't seen them in awhile." She didn't know why she was telling the young girl this, she didn't have anyone to talk to it seemed. Nobody had comforted her or cared for her or made her breakfast since you had, and she missed it. "I remember Mx. Ricci. The last time I saw them, they were with you, fighting in the quad with some men." Larissa looked down at Wednesday, she was puzzled. "You were there when they got into the fight? You were in the quad?" Larissa had hoped no students remembered that fight, more so she hoped that they didn't understand it. "Yes, I was. Have you talked to them since?"

Wednesday was curious now, recognizing that Larissa's tone when mentioning you sounded full of regret. Larissa sighed, "No, I haven't talked to them after the fight. I didn't know what they were saying, I didn't know what was going on." Wednesday sensed the confusion and anger in the principals voice. "Allow me to translate. From what I remember, a man said "If the principal is hiding something, don't the students deserve to know?" I believe the man made a joke about Mx. Ricci being gay, and then proceeded to make the same joke about you. The other man agreed with him, and then Mx. Ricci called him out and told him to, well, do something that I'm not allowed to say. My point is, Mx. Ricci was standing up for you. Those men were being awfully rude to you both." Larissa was speechless, she didn't think that anyone would understand what you and your co-workers had said. "Am I the only one around here that doesn't understand Italian?" she whispered to herself, but Wednesday heard. "Yes, I speak Italian. Who were those men? Was one of them Mx. Ricci's husband?" Wednesday was curious as to why they were even at Nevermore, perhaps the principal was keeping secrets. "They work for the board, they just came to check in. And yes, one of them is their husband." Larissa spoke half paying attention to her words. She suddenly realized that Wednesday was right. Your own husband had disrespected you, in front of co-workers at that. "Principal Weems, you should talk to them." Larissa agreed, she should talk to you. She had assumed that you would turn against her at one point. Maybe you'd forget about the moments you had together, or maybe you didn't care about them in the first place. You did travel a lot, and you weren't going to ever stay here in Jericho. Still, she couldn't believe how your own husband treated you. How could he say something so cruel to his co-worker about his wife, in front of them at that. How could he come here and take Mr. Martell's side? Why were they making gay jokes about you and her? That was no laughing matter, it hit too close to home for Larissa. Did you like women? You had a husband, it didn't matter. She decided regretfully and sorrow filled that she would have to call you and apologise.

You were in your hotel room flipping through channels on the television. You had been looking at houses in Jericho for the past few weeks, and you thought you may have found one. You were excited to move, to start fresh. You could decorate how you wanted and do what you wanted and live however you wanted. Maybe you could even buy a pet. Quitting this job though may be the hardest thing you've ever had to do. Was this stupid? Why were you doing this? What if you really hated small towns and wanted to go back to the board after quitting? What would your husband say? You flopped down in your bed and looked up at the ceiling, covering your eyes with your arms and letting out a huge sigh. You were tired of thinking, you were tired of being alone, you were tired of feeling surrounded by people, you were tired of yourself, you were just tired.

You awoke to the sound of your phone ringing. Why was your ringtone so loud? You reached to the table next to your bed grabbing for your phone, it was too dark for you to see. A number you didn't know lit up on your screen, it was 4am. Putting the phone back down and shaking your head, you tried to ignore it. As it rang a couple times, something inside you was telling you to answer. You reluctantly reached for it again. "Hello?" you mumbled, sleep evident in your voice. "Hello, Anura" a seemingly unsure and quiet voice sounded. This voice sounded so familiar, but also so different. It was timid, possibly scared? "Mm who am I speaking with?" you mumbled, trying to sound professional but still being half asleep. A small laugh came from the other side of the phone, "It's your favorite principal. At least, I still hope that I'm your favorite." Ah, it was Larissa Weems. The one and only Larissa Weems. How did she get your number? Was she mad at you all this time? The last time you saw her she stormed away from you, and you never got the chance to talk, until now. You smiled, very relieved. "My favorite principal? You'd better hope that you're my favorite, calling me at 4am." Larissa gasped slightly into the phone. "Anura, it's not 4am, it's 7 in the morning. Where are you?" You loved confused Larissa, it was so cute watching her brain work. "I'm in California, Larissa" you chirped, letting out a huff of a laugh. "Oh darling, I'm so sorry, I'll let you sleep." You had a feeling that this call wasn't just because she wanted to catch up. After all this time, she wouldn't call you at random. You had left each other without any explanation, which was really weird for the both of you considering what happened the night before the incident. You didn't want her to go, you wanted to listen to her voice. "No, no, it's okay. Do you need anything?" There was no answer for a minute, and you questioned whether she had hung up. "I-I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. The last time we were together, I thought that you were talking bad about me with your co-workers. I just felt- I was glad to have a friend who I enjoy spending time with. One who seems to like me back. And when you were all speaking Italian I felt left out, I just felt like everything we did and had was fake. I didn't know how to deal with that." She paused for a minute, leaving you to comprehend what had happened. "I'm so sorry Larissa, I didn't mean to make you feel like that" you whispered, voice caught in your throat. "It's okay darling, it was stupid of me to think that you would take their side." You thought for a moment. "How do you know what really happened, after all this time?" It had been months since this happened. Had she been thinking about it the whole time like you had? "A student who was in the quad saw the whole thing. She speaks Italian and she told me what you said, what they all said." Shit, you said some really inappropriate things. "Ah I'm sorry Larissa, I may have told Mr. Martell to go… you know himself. I didn't think any of the students would understand." A soft laugh was heard from Larissa's side of the phone, "It's alright Anura, I'm aware of the things that they called us. Thank you for standing up for me, for us." Things they called us? Oh right, gay jokes. You could take those, it wasn't really a lie. Larissa however didn't deserve to be berated or subject to any stereotypes. "Anytime, pretty girl. So, how are you doing now?" Your voice was scratchy, Larissa could tell that you were still partly asleep. She thought your voice was hot like this, but she wasn't overly focused on that, as she wasn't doing too good. "Well, the mayor just passed away, so things could be better." You sat up, shocked. You didn't know the mayor, but you knew he and Larissa collaborated on almost everything. This sounded rather suspicious, but you didn't want to bring that up right now. "Oh shit Rissa, I'm so sorry. I know he was a good friend, I'm sure he would want you to continue fighting for outcast normie relations in Jericho."

You were met with silence again. It was weird to you, how Larissa would always have something to say back. But now she was just here, listening, breathing, thinking, as if she didn't want to say anything, as if she couldn't. "Larissa, are you doing okay?" You heard sniffles from the other end of the phone and your heart broke. You knew she didn't have many friends by the way she went on. None that cared enough to help her through this anyway. You wanted to be there for her, but you were a 7 hour flight away. She responded rather quickly, muffling her sniffles. "I'm fine Anura, yes, don't worry about me. I just wanted to make sure that we are on good terms." You smiled, still worried about her despite her telling you not to be. "Of course we're on good terms love, always" you tried to sound sincere and heartfelt so that she would believe someone cared for her being. "Good, good" she trailed off like she was thinking. "Larissa, can I come see you soon?" you said, hopeful she'd allow it. "Is the board sending you for another visit?" she questioned, you couldn’t detect an emotion in her voice. "No, I don't think. I just thought that it would be nice to visit my favorite principal, if you'll allow it." You smiled, thinking about visiting her, or perhaps even visiting her and staying permanently. "Hmm, I think I can squeeze you in" she taunted. "When will you be visiting?" You thought for a minute, you really weren't sure. You weren't sure when you'd have your life packed up. You weren't sure when you'd have the guts to quit your job. When you'd stop thinking crazy and hopefully wake up from this nightmare. Although, if this was a nightmare, Larissa would make you believe it was a sweet dream. Larissa would make you want to stay in this nightmare forever. "Very soon Riss, very soon."

A couple days after Larissa called you to apologize, you found yourself back in your New York apartment. You almost had all of your things packed to ship to your new house. Well, you bought a place in Jericho, but you weren't supposed to move in for another month. You didn’t yet quit your job, that was the hardest thing to let go of out of all of this. Nobody knew, but you had left your husband a month after shit went down at Nevermore. Not to your surprise, he understood. It seemed he knew that he fucked up, and that there was no way to fix it, not that you wanted to. You looked in your floor length mirror and sighed. "Oh Anura Ricci, what would your mother say? She would probably say that you were crazy, indecisive, and all over the place. Ugh, look at me, full of dye and ink and cigarette smoke, moving and quitting my job for some woman who doesn't even like me back." You rolled your eyes at yourself, you were right, but that wouldn't stop you. Being self aware was something, wasn't it? You should just call your boss now. Call him, just do it Anura.

The next morning you woke up and sat on the edge of your bed. Everything was done. Everything that you needed to do to move on and get away was done. You decided you should go while you had the chance. All in all, Jericho wasn't that far away from New York, only a 6 hour drive. You could always come back and visit. And because it was only a 6 hour drive, you grabbed as much as you could fit into your car and hopped in, setting off to Jericho.

Pt 10

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Against the Tide - Twenty-Two

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Original Female Character, Silvio Ricci x Original Female Character Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach), Silvio Ricci (Ikemen Prince), Olivia DuBois (Original Female Character of Color) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent, Pirates and Princes, Slow Burn, Action/Adventure, Worldbuilding, Angst, Some Subtle Racism, Sexual Tension, Political Subplot

Previous Chapter: Twenty-One

Chapter Masterlist

Summary:

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know,” Thalia replies, nodding her head sagely. “Go off with him, I mean. If you really love him, there must be something really good about him.”

“Thank you, Tati,” Olivia smiles. “And you’re right. There is something really good about him - there are lots of good things about him.”

Thalia looks at her sister with interest. “Livvy, is he really a pirate? That kind of pirate?”

“Who can say?” She smirks at her sister. “I know that he sometimes acquires rare goods from foreign countries. I hear he’s a fairly successful merchant.”

Read on AO3

“Oh,” Thalia exclaims, looking at Olivia’s ring. “I haven’t seen you wear that in a long time… I thought you might have gotten rid of it.”

Olivia laughs. “I may not wear jewelry often, but I never get rid of any of it.” She thinks then of the little wooden chest full of jewelry upstairs in her old bedroom at her parents’ manor. “Though there are some pieces I probably will never wear again,” she adds softly. 

“What made you decide to wear that one again, after all this time?”

She looks down at the ring. It is a very pretty ring, made of seaglass in a bluish-green color. For a time many years ago, she had taken to wearing it on her index finger, but it was always a little too snug there. Today, she wears it on her ring finger. 

It fits perfectly there. 

“It just felt right,” she says simply, with a smile.

Thalia looks at her a little sadly. “I can’t believe you’re leaving for a whole year.”

“I am,” Olivia agrees, “but I won’t be far, and I’ll be back for your wedding. I promise.” 

“Mama says you’re not coming back to Clario even after the year is up.”

Surprised, Olivia stares at her younger sister. “She told you that?”

Thalia nods. “She says you’re going to go off to sea with… the Captain.” Thalia whispers the last bit, looking furtively around as if afraid someone will hear her. It almost makes Olivia laugh. 

“She would say that, wouldn’t she,” Olivia murmurs. She sighs. “I don’t know what will happen in a year, Tati.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know,” Thalia replies, nodding her head sagely. “Go off with him, I mean. If you really love him, there must be something really good about him.”

“Thank you, Tati,” Olivia smiles. “And you’re right. There is something really good about him - there are lots of good things about him.” 

Thalia looks at her sister with interest. “Livvy, is he really a pirate? That kind of pirate?”

“Who can say?” She smirks at her sister. “I know that he sometimes acquires rare goods from foreign countries. I hear he’s a fairly successful merchant.”

This makes her younger sister laugh. “Oh Livvy, I’m glad to see you haven’t changed at all. I’m really going to miss having you close.”

Olivia gathers her in a tight hug. “You’re welcome to come visit Vora anytime,” she tells her. “And like I said, I’ll be back for your wedding in a few months. Try not to let Mama drive you crazy with the planning in the meantime.” 

“She’s already starting to.” Thalia rolls her eyes. “I think she’s planning the wedding she always wanted for you… and even though it’s not a political marriage, she’s still making a really big affair of it.”

Olivia clicks her tongue sympathetically. “Now I feel even worse for leaving you alone with her at a time like this.”

“It’s ok,” her sister smiles. “I’ve got Papa on my side to keep her from getting too out of control. And I want to hear all about your adventures in your letters, alright?”

“I’ll write to you often,” Olivia promises. “Long, boring letters filled with every little detail about where I am and what I’m doing. You’ll get sick of me before long.”

“That will never happen.” 

--

“I see you’ve been filling Tati’s head with all sorts of fables,” Olivia remarks dryly. 

“Fables?” Mirelle looks curiously back at her. “What do you mean?”

“She said you told her that I was planning to go off to sea with the Captain.” 

“Well, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t planned anything beyond what I need to do for the year that I’ll be helping Vora reestablish their government.” Olivia laughs. “What brings you here anyway? I thought you said you’d never come to my… how did you put it?” She taps a finger against her chin. “My filthy little hovel… I think that’s the way you described it.”

“In my defense, I didn’t know what it looked like at the time,” Mirelle protests. “And you can’t imagine the picture my mind conjured up when you told me you’d be living in a room down at the docks.”

Olivia raises both eyebrows questioningly, a wry smile pulling at her mouth. “And now?” 

“Now what?”

“What do you think of it, now that you’ve seen it?” She’s expecting criticism and braces herself for it. 

“It suits you,” Mirelle says after a moment, taking her daughter completely by surprise. “Has… he been here?”

Olivia can’t help but to laugh at the way her mother has phrased it - Mirelle is looking furtively around as though someone will hear her, not unlike the way Thalia looked when she made mention of ‘the Captain.’ “Of course he’s been here,” Olivia answers reasonably, as she folds clothes and sets them aside in piles to be packed. “He doesn’t always sleep on his ship, you know.”

Her mother tries not to look scandalized. “And he’s going with you to Vora.”

“He’s taking me to Vora,” Olivia corrects her. 

“Couldn’t you just go with Prince Silvio on his vessel?” 

Olivia sighs. “You know very well why I can’t.”

“But---”

“Mama,” she interrupts, trying not to sigh again. “It’s my last night here… I don’t want to fight.”

Her mother is quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to fight, either,” she confesses. “And you may not believe me when I tell you this, but… I am proud of you.”

“Why?” Olivia snorts. “Aren’t I a colossal disappointment? I’m not doing any of the things you wanted me to do.”

“You’re not,” her mother agrees. “But you’re doing the things you want to, and that’s why I’m proud of you.”

Her words leave Olivia speechless. She’s still struggling to find the words to say when there’s a knock at her door. “Come in,” she calls.

“Olivia!” The word comes out as a hiss. “You don’t just invite people into your home without first checking to see who’s at the door!”

“I know who’s at the door,” she laughs, as the knob begins to turn. 

“Oh,” Grimmjow says, standing in the doorway. “Didn’t know ya had company. I can come back later---”

“Stay,” Olivia says, motioning him in. “My mother isn’t company - she’s my mother.”

“It’s nice to know what you really think of me.” Mirelle stands. “It’s quite alright,” she goes on, her words addressed to Grimmjow. “I was leaving soon anyway. The carriage is waiting for me out on the road.”

“I’ll walk ya,” he offers. 

Her mouth is set to refuse him, but one glance at Olivia and she reconsiders. “If you’d be so kind,” she says gracefully. 

Olivia reaches out, pulling her mother into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For what you said.”

“I meant it,” her mother tells her sincerely. “And whatever… whatever you decide to do once you’ve finished your time in Vora, make sure it’s what you really want to do.”

“I will,” Olivia smiles. “I promise.”

--

“There’s my carriage.” Mirelle turns to face him. “I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

“Me?” Grimmjow chuckles. “Ain’t sure what I could do for ya, but whatever it is, I’ll try.”

“Take care of her, please,” Olivia’s mother requests, her voice soft. “Olivia is many things, but she’s never been foolish. If she loves you… if she trusts you, I know it’s because you’ve done something to earn her love and her trust. So please,” she goes on, “take care of her, even when she isn’t taking care of herself. Especially when she isn’t taking care of herself.”

Her words seem to surprise him. He recovers quickly however, flashing Mirelle a charming grin that makes her think she’s getting a little glimpse of what Olivia sees in him. “I give my word, M’Lady,” he offers. “Me, I might be a lotta things ya don’t agree with, but I can tell ya I’m a man of my word. I’ll look after her.”

“Thank you,” Mirelle replies, her smile relieved. 

Grimmjow waits until she’s safely in the carriage before he turns away. 

--

Olivia is waiting when he gets back. In just the quarter of an hour or so that he’s been gone, she’s managed to get all of the piles of folded clothes packed away and her bags set by the door. 

“All ready to go, I see,” he observes with a smile. 

“Mmhm,” she agrees. “Did my mother give you an earful?” 

“Nah.” Grimmjow chuckles, reaching out and pulling her by the waist until she’s flush against him. “She told me to take care of ya.” 

“She did?”

“Yeah.” He wraps his arms around her. “Told me that if you love me and trust me, I musta done somethin’ to earn it.” He leans back, tilting her chin up with his hand so he can look into her eyes. “Did I do somethin’ to earn it, Sae?”

Olivia looks back at him, her eyes lit up with amusement. “You mean to tell me you’ve been going along all this time without knowing?” 

She expects him to laugh too, to make some clever joke about it. Instead, his eyes are serious and searching, and it makes her realize that he legitimately wants to know. “Come here,” she says softly, taking his hand in hers and leading him over to sit next to her on the bed. Even when they’re settled there, sitting side by side, Olivia doesn’t let go of his hand. She links her fingers with his, raising her left hand to his eye line so he can see the ring there. “Do you remember this?”

Grimmjow squints. “I bought ya that.”

“You did,” she agrees with a smile. “It was one of the very first things you brought me back from Vora.” She looks down at the ring. “Why did you buy it?”

He considers her question but not for long, and it makes Olivia think the answer is something he’s already thought about. “You seemed so happy whenever I would bring shit from Vora for ya,” he starts. “I just liked seein’ that little smile on your face… the way your eyes would light up when ya got excited.” He chuckles. “You’re always pretty Sae, but ya look prettiest when you’re happy.”

She can feel them - the little butterflies that haven’t left her stomach since she’s embraced what she feels for this man. “That,” she says quietly. “Since I met you, you’ve been trying to make me happy. Even when I didn’t realize that’s what you were doing, you were only trying to make sure I was always smiling. That I always felt my best.

“Sometimes that meant bringing me beautiful things from Vora,” she goes on. “Little pieces of home, things that reminded me of the place I loved and missed so much. Sometimes it meant teasing me in a way that would make me forget whatever was troubling me in favor of a laugh. It often meant sharing a drink with me, or letting me cry on your shoulder - sometimes both at the same time.” She pauses, remembering something specific.

“I woulda kicked his ass if you’d needed me to,” he interjects quietly, and it’s then that she knows he’s thinking of it, too. 

“I know,” Olivia laughs, even though there are tears in the corners of her eyes. “But what happened back then wasn’t his fault, and I loved that you respected that fact enough to let it be.” She turns to face him, bringing his hand up to her lips and pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles. “I love you, Grimmjow. I love everything about you… even the parts of you that you think I wouldn’t.” She reaches up with both hands, cupping his face and bringing him close for a kiss. 

One kiss turns into two, two turns into three, and it isn’t long before they’ve shed the thin layers of fabric separating their skin. As she always does when he’s fully sheathed inside of her, Olivia marvels at how good he feels. 

Grimmjow holds her close, his hands tightly gripping her hips as she moves on top of him. He is hard-pressed to take his eyes off of her even to blink. 

It makes her feel like a goddess. 

Afterward she rests her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the way his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. “I’m always happy when I’m with you, no matter what we’re doing or where we are,” she tells him, her voice solemn and hushed. “I trust you with my life, and I…” She trails off, her gaze dropping once more to the ring on her finger. “I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of that life with you. Wherever that takes us.”

“Even though you deserve better?” 

She stares up at him. “What I deserve,” she starts, her gaze never leaving his, “is a man who loves me the way that I am and who is happy with me. Are you saying you’re not that man?”

It makes him laugh, the intensity of her stare. “You are one fuckin’ scary woman when you wanna be.”

“But am I wrong?”

He shakes his head, still chuckling. “I want ya, Sae, more than ya know. And if you’ll have me, I’ll stay with ya until I get old and ugly.”

“I can’t ever see you being old or ugly,” she laughs. “And even if you are, I’ll still want to be with you.” 

“Might live to regret that,” he warns her, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief as he shifts in bed to hover above her. 

“Somehow,” she giggles breathlessly, “I doubt that will ever happen.”

A/N: Here we are, at the end of this little tale. If you've made it this far, thank you for being patient with me (especially while I worked up the nerve to finish and post this last chapter). I had so much fun writing this fic this time around, because I let the characters tell me how the story should go.

Fear not - this isn't the end of Grimmjow and Olivia's adventures. There will be more of them to come, hopefully in the not-so-distant future. I have ideas for them, and I hope you'll stick around to see those ideas come to fruition.

Thank you for all the likes, kudos, comments, and reblogs - I appreciate each and every one of them.

Val 💙

Previous Chapter: Twenty-One

Chapter Masterlist

Tag list: @chrissie2003 @kryptoniteforsale @pamakali

[aces-and-angels]

Title: How Magnus Became Partner

A/N: another day in the windverse -this time with @saibug1022's blorbo, magnus bishop standing front and center. i've loved learning everything there is to know about this character and hope yall will enjoy reading their story as well 🖤 @choicesficwriterscreations

Characters: OC: Magnus Bishop (he/him), OC: Wind Velez (she/he/they), Gabe Ricci

Summary: Thea Vaughn became a household name after coming forward with allegations against her former boss, none other than Senator Austin Morris. Magnus Bishop, a head-strong, underappreciated junior associate at Jensen Legal, goes against the firm's wishes to take on her case.

Warning(s): Language

Word Count: 3.4K

read below the cut or...

AO3 link

---

Jensen Legal; Cincinnati, Ohio

“Angus, could you be a dear and take these files over to Debbie in finance?” 

Magnus groaned inwardly, barely suppressing an eyeroll that ached to be unleashed. Three years as an associate, yet no one remembered his name nor had the decency to delegate menial tasks like this to one of the many paralegals on staff. He took a quick breath, unclenching his fists hidden underneath his desk before taking the folders with a sickly sweet smile. “Sure thing, Magnet.” 

“Uh, it’s Margret, actually.” 

Magnus gasped, feigning shock. “Oh, my mistake. I’ll make sure to remember that for next time.” He didn’t spare her a single glance as he marched her precious files over to Debbie in fucking finance. Yet another piss-poor, sunshine-y day in Cincinnati. 

There was no doubt in his mind that he’d be swimming in cash if he got a dollar for every time he wanted to set fire to the firm. His restraint was tied exclusively to needing to make rent, not for any supposed comradery the firm’s slogan encouraged to promote. ‘Jensen Legal, where family is our priority.’ Such a priority that the founder’s son was named partner after only six months on the job. Richard Jensen, or as Magnus liked to call him, a fucking dick. 

The walk to the financial wing was short-lived, leaving only the mundane walk back to his office. A few secretaries he recognized sent him a small wave, occupied with fielding an endless stream of phone calls for their supervisors. Even if no one bothered to know his name, it was impossible for Magnus to walk the halls unnoticed. Standing at an impressive 6’4,” he easily towered over the majority of his coworkers. Warm, dark skin clashed with an endless sea of white, cold and unforgiving. Seen, but still very much alone. 

Loud chatter filtered from the break-room, stealing his attention away from his trek. “Turn it up, Craig. I can’t hear anything,” a shrill voice complained.  

“I’m trying! This damn remote– oh, I think I got it. Here-”

Magnus stood at the back of the crowd, eyes glued to the flat-screen television mounted high on the wall. ‘SOON TO SPEAK: SENATOR AUSTIN MORRIS’ lined the bottom of the broadcast with a reporter at the scene. 

“Yes- we’ve just received word that Senator Morris is scheduled to hold a press conference to address recent allegations of sexual misconduct made by Thea Vaughn. Ms. Vaughn is known to have worked for-” 

Even with his hearing aids, Magnus strained to listen to the reporter as a wave of murmurs from the room clouded his ears. 

“Do you think he actually-”

“-likely. That slut just wants-”

“-heard she got charged with a-” 

Frustrated, he pulled out his phone to search for a live stream, tapping the first link listed. The website lagged for a moment before the video began to buffer. He turned on the closed captions and watched as Senator Morris made his way to the podium. His demeanor was solemn but assured as he adjusted the mic to land right at his chin. 

“Good afternoon, Cincinnati. I stand before you today not as an elected official but as a father to two incredible children. Husband to my beautiful wife, Alison. And son to Jane and Peter Morris.”

Big fucking whoop, Magnus scoffed to himself. He watched the tell-all interview with Thea Vaughn. Anyone with a functioning brain could see that she was the wronged party. If not through her words, then from the hint of terror that marked her dusty blue eyes as she retold her story. Though perhaps it was too generous to assume such intelligence from his peers. 

“I’m sure many of you have read the awful headlines circulating online. Slanderous words printed right by my name. Cheater. Violent. Abusive. I’m here to set the record straight. Yes, Ms. Vaughn was a former employee of mine, but the allegations brought forth by her couldn’t be further from the truth,” Senator Morris spoke, putting emphasis on the word ‘truth.’

Loud whispers filled the air. 

“-so brave of him-”

“-must be awf-”

“-knew he couldn’t have-” 

Magnus pulled at the small ridge hooked behind his ear with the tip of his nail, shutting off his aids completely. The longer he watched the senator speak, the hotter his blood ran. Austin Morris, ever the devout Christian, quoted the Bible to turn Thea’s allegations on their head. 

“Love thy neighbor- and that’s what I did, folks. I opened my doors to a troubled woman. Shared a meal with her at the same table along with my wife and kids. But generosity can only go so far when dealing with someone struggling with addiction-”

Magnus’ expression crumpled with disdain. Addiction? She was charged with illegal possession of marijuana at sixteen, not found shooting up heroin in an alley.

“-my own personal funds, I am happy to donate $10,000 to rehabilitation centers located all throughout the state. I hope this money will aid those in a way I failed to do so with Thea. May she one day be guided back to the light.”

“Jesus Christ,” Magnus scoffed at his blatant display of gaslighting. Enough giving this waste of air his time, he had work to do. Shutting off his phone, he peeled out of the breakroom, ready to bury his frustrations in paperwork. 

—

A week passed since Austin Morris’ media junket finally came to a close. Everywhere Magnus looked, that prick was there, flashing his pearly veneers to the nation with shallow charitable gestures that surely cost him less than the price of one of his luxury Italian sports cars. The masses ate it up like candy. Senator Morris’ reputation was not only repaired, but improved. The latest polls showed a 35% increase in his approval rating. Thea Vaughn, however, was a different story.

Her interviews had been reduced to crude memes- the most popular one being a gif of her breaking down mid-interview with the hashtag ‘fake bitch’ on the bottom. Any sympathy shown online towards her was effectively silenced by an army of Morris’ fiercest supporters.

Raindrops clung to the window panes, remnants of the harsh downpour that recently settled into a light drizzle. But inside, a different storm brewed. One that involved an extra box of discovery and task sheet not meant for him, but his acting supervisor: Richard (Dick) Jensen.

“Make sure you file that subpoena by 4PM. Dad’s gonna chew me out if this shit gets delayed again.”

“Go file it yourself. My shift ends in twenty minutes,” Magnus said flatly, pushing the file back towards him. 

“Says who?”

“My schedule after you approved my early leave three weeks ago. I’ve got an appointment.” 

“Reschedule it. We’re understaffed today,” Richard explained, barely glancing up from his phone- too preoccupied with whoever he’s texting on the other line. 

“Bullshit. No one called for any temps today.”

Richard’s brow arched up. “And how do you know that? Actually- don’t answer. I’ve got a client to schmooze over beers at Jimmy’s, so get to- ah shit, not again.”

“What is it?”

“This Vaughn chick sent another request for a consultation.”

Magnus perked up slightly at the name. “Thea Vaughn?” 

“Who else?” Richard answered rudely, as if it was that obvious. Magnus brushed aside his tone, too curious about Thea’s meeting to care. 

“You met with her already? What’d you say?”

“What every other firm in the city has- her case is not worth taking.”

A flash of anger tore through Magnus. “Why the hell not?” 

“Because we’re not looking to foot the bill for some petty charity case that’s already on the losing side. Austin Morris has the media in his back pocket and the resources to bury anyone who touches him in a mountain of legal fees. Anyone with eyes can see that.” 

“Anyone with eyes can see that Morris is full of shit,” Magnus spat back. 

“He could be buried in it for all I care. Look, I don’t have time to listen to you preach on your soapbox. Just send Vaughn back out the door when she arrives. And file that subpoena,” Richard ordered, already walking towards the elevators. 

“Dick,” he swore under his breath, begrudgingly picking up the phone to move his appointment. He checked his schedule pinned on the wall. Friday the 23rd was marked as his day off. Hopefully Dr. Miller could see him then. 

He was halfway through Richard’s to-do list when the light mounted on his desk flashed red, a signal that someone was at his door. He glanced up from his work and saw Tina, one of Jensen Legal’s secretaries. She was on the older side. Mid 50s if Magnus had to guess. Streaks of gray poked through her auburn hair, smile lines creased the pale skin on her face, and she always wore the most ridiculous neon green jumpers. Out of everyone at the firm, Magnus tolerated her the most. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Bishop.” 

“It’s alright, Tina. What is it?” 

“Thea Vaughn is in the lobby waiting for her consultation with Mr. Jensen. I already told her he’d be out of the office for the rest of the day, but she’s refusing-”

“Send her in,” Magnus interrupted her spiel. There was a rare opportunity right in front of him and he’d be damned if he let it slip through the cracks. Was it reckless? Definitely. Did he care? Not one bit.  

Tina’s eyes widened slightly. “But I was given explicit instructions by-”

“Di- I mean- Richard told me the same thing, Tina. Don’t worry, I’m just gonna make it easier for her to want to leave by entertaining a meeting,” he reassured, hoping she couldn’t sense the double meaning in his words. Fuck what Dick wanted. Magnus would do anything if it meant he got to stick it to that pompous, holier than thou politician.

“Alright… I’ll send her over to you shortly.” 

“Thank you.”

Not five minutes passed before his door opened once more, this time with Thea Vaughn at his doorstep. Seeing her in person as opposed to on the television or online forums was surreal. Magnus thought that after weeks of ridicule her demeanor would be meek, but she proved to be anything but.

“So I guess they pushed me over to you. Who are you, one of Jensen’s paralegals?” 

“Junior Associate,” Magnus corrected, brushing off her snide comment. Unlike Dick, she had a legitimate reason to be scorned. “Please have a seat, Ms. Vaughn.”

“Ooh, manners,” she praised mockingly, sliding into the seat across from his desk. With her this close, Magnus took note of the flecks of gray that swam in her eyes like tiny storm clouds. “Is this the part where you tell me to take my business elsewhere?” 

“No, it’s not. I want to take your case.”

Thea straightened in her seat, clearly surprised by his answer. “Wait- really? You’re not messing with me?”

“I want to see Morris behind bars just as much as you, Ms. Vaughn.” 

“Thea,” she said, more at ease than she had been when she first entered the room. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. After the sixth suit laughed me out of their office, I stopped trying to be nice.” 

“Believe me, I understand the urge. More than half of those idiots outside drive me up the fucking wall on a daily basis.” 

She snorted. “How do you cope?” 

“Reluctantly.”

“That’s fair. So, how does this whole thing go? Will you be working with Mr. Jensen?”

Magnus sucked in a breath, trying to find the right way to phrase his clear violation of Dick’s wishes. “Mr. Jensen has… delegated anything regarding your case to me. So, you’ll mainly be interacting with me throughout this process,” he answered. It wasn’t a lie. He did want Magnus to take care of it.  

“Oh- okay. Um, I’m sure he already told you that I can’t-” 

“He did. I can offer my services pro bono. You won’t have to pay anything.”

Thea let out an astonished laugh, Magnus’ words grounding her in the present. “Wow. This is… wow.”

"Haven’t heard those words from anyone else, huh?” 

“No, I haven’t,” she confirmed. “Thank you, uh-”

“Magnus.” He reached out to offer his hand.

“Thank you, Magnus. Really.” Her hand was small in his, but felt just as strong. As if a new surge of life had entered her veins. 

“Thank me after I win your case. Also- when you walk out of here, act pissed.”

Thea’s brows furrowed. “Why do I need to do that?” 

“There are certain people who know how this meeting was supposed to turn out. We need to keep up appearances,” he explained, side-stepping from the full truth of the matter. But Thea caught on to the reality of the situation.

“You were supposed to say no to me.” Her words were not accusatory, only looking to confirm what she already knew.  

“I was told to escort you out of the building, which I intend to do,” Magnus stated, rising from his seat. “You can either take your chances with me or go try to find another lawyer who is willing to give you the time of day.” 

There was a moment of silence shared between them- a beat where they each bore into the other, searching for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, Thea nodded. “Alright then. I’m in.”

—

Keeping Thea’s caseload under wraps proved to be more of a challenge than Magnus originally anticipated. Half his energy alone was spent on finding moments throughout the day to sneak in time to pour over her files. He couldn’t pass any grunt work on anyone else- so it was him who logged in the discovery, researched for any precedent that favored his case, and dealt with the arduous process of filing for a hearing. 

It worked for all of two weeks.

Dick stormed into his office, fury etched deep into his features. If he wasn’t as royally fucked as he was in that moment, Magnus would’ve reveled in seeing the veins bulge on Dick’s forehead. “Bishop, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

“Writing memos for Stanley’s case.” His unbothered attitude only enraged Dick further.

“Cut the shit, Magnus. I know you went around my direct order and took on that bitch’s case.”

Fuck. Act calm and bluff. Magnus schooled his face into a neutral expression, raising a single accusatory eyebrow at his supervisor. “Do you have proof? Because right now all you’re doing is throwing empty accusations at my face.” 

“You want proof? Fine. Here’s your fucking proof,” Richard snarled, getting right in Magnus’ face. He met his fury head on, refusing to give Dick the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. “Pack your shit. You’re fired.”

Magnus sneered. “You can’t fire me. Only managing partners have that authority.” 

A sinister grin spread on Dick’s face as he slapped something down on his desk. “Consider me their proxy.” Magnus glanced down at the document. His bravado vanished as he read what it was. A notice of termination, effective immediately. Next to it, a fountain pen. 

“What? You really thought no one would notice an uptick in your non-billables? Franklin wanted to leave you high and dry, but dad figured if word got out of your sudden… departure, it would reflect poorly on the firm. Not that I really give a shit. Now sign your severance package and get the fuck out.” With that, Dick slammed the door behind him.

Frozen, all Magnus could do was stare at the papers in front of him. He expected to be a lot of things- angry, vindictive- but numb was certainly not on his list. Maybe his mind had canceled out the whirlwind of emotions that were flooding his system- the first stages of grief coiled so tightly around his chest he no longer felt a thing. But all the denial in the world couldn’t change what was written in the fine print. 

His body moved on its own accord. An empty box slowly filled with the few belongings he kept in office: a handful of spare batteries for his hearing aids, his coffee mugs, and a framed photo of him and older sister, Vivian. Shit. He’d probably have to move in with her and her family. Figure out how to terminate his lease early- hire movers- find a new job- 

Wait. 

It dawned on him all at once. No more getting cast aside for promotions. No more shitty coffee from the breakroom or stupid requests from Magnet. And best of all- no more Dick and his receding hairline hidden with an equally awful side-part. 

The laugh that bursted out from Magnus’ lips was borderline hysterical. Anyone watching from the outside would think he’d gone mad. No more to-do lists, no more Dick Jensen. No more listening to generic hold music, no more Dick Jensen. No more bland chicken at company potlucks, no more Dick Jensen. No more Dick Fucking Jensen! 

Magnus scrawled his signature on the dotted line, officially marking the end of his terrible time at Jensen Legal. There was an undeniable spring in his step as he walked towards the elevators. All eyes were on him, an amalgamation of confused pity and intrigue pointed his way. And he couldn’t care less. 

The first thing Magnus did was drive to Raven’s. Hours later, he walked out with twisted locs landing just past his shoulders, its tips a vibrant shade of midnight blue. It was the first time in years where he genuinely felt like himself. With that out of the way, there was only one thing left to do- find a way to stick it to Austin Morris. 

—

McGraw Byrne, one month later… 

“Thank you for your time, Niel. We’ll be in touch.” Gabe shook hands with the latest person on the list of potential hires for McGraw Byrne. He maintained a poised smile until the doors shut behind him before letting out a tired exhale. The search for new partners had gone just as well as he expected. Which meant it wasn’t going well at all. Any quality candidates were most likely snatched up months ago during the summer hiring season, leaving a less than stellar pool to choose from. 

He was skimming through yet another resume when Wind bursts through the doors, newspaper in hand. “Put that file down- I think I found just the person we’re looking for.” A black and white photo of Austin Morris leaving court took up the majority of the front page. The article below detailed the Ohio-native senator’s fall from grace after being charged on multiple counts of assault, trespassing, and solicitation. 

“Is there a lawyer with an ad listed in that paper?” 

“You’re looking at ‘em.”

Gabe stared at his colleague, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, but how is another criminal the person we’ve been looking for?” 

“He’s not- the guy who put him behind bars is. Anyone who can take out someone as powerful as Senator Morris has to be incredibly talented,” Wind explained with barely contained excitement, practically bouncing on their heels. 

“They’re also probably backed by a powerful firm. Not someone looking for a job.” 

“See- I thought the same thing at first, but then I looked closer into all the lawyers involved in Vaughn’s case. The person she hired wasn’t associated with any law firm in any of the articles I found.” 

“So?”

“Don’t you think that's weird? Any respectable firm would be dying for this level of publicity.” 

Gabe’s eyes widened. “God, you’re right. So you’re saying-”

“Whoever did this was operating on their own? Yes, yes I am. And I think I just found him online.” Wind set their phone on the table, its screen on a LinkedIn profile. Gabe read through his credentials. 

 Magnus Bishop. 29 years old. Graduated summa cum laude from the Mortiz College of Law at Ohio State University. Work experience: junior associate at Jensen Legal. 

“We can’t take him.” 

Wind’s face dropped. “Why not? He’s perfect!” 

“He’s only worked as an associate. We need someone with more experience,” Gabe reasoned.

“Gabe- no one else we’ve seen today holds a candle to this guy. So what if he’s an associate? Sadie plucked me right out of a civil court hearing in Nebraska for citing tree law. Magnus Bishop took out a freaking senator. Tell me that doesn’t at least warrant a phone call to see if he’d be interested in coming to work for McGraw Byrne.”

Wind, always the one to root for the underdog, held an unwavering optimism in their gaze. Gabe sighed, having no choice but to yield to its intensity. “Alright, let’s give Mr. Bishop a call.”

[spinnenpfote6]

I wanted to share my Misty Quigley x Walter Tattersall AU Shipping edit I made for Valentine's Day to celebrate the current filming of Yellowjackets season 3!

When I realized that Ricci and Wood were in The Ice Storm together as kids, there was no way I couldn't make an AU out of it!

Some description of my thoughts and what's going on here:

Ahhh I just can't get enough of my Misty Quigley x Walter Tattersall teen lovers AU and this song - being both cute and morbid - reminded me so much of them that I HAD to edit it! Now, it's basically again about them re-connecting as adults after being lovers in their teens who then lost contact after one of them moved away just before the events of Yellowjackets' flashbacks, leaving everything else still canon. Since the song is sung by a woman, it's mostly from Misty's POV (though the lyrics often suit Walter as well), with a woman who SEEMS nice and happy but is, in reality, pretty twisted and capable of murder. While Misty reluctantly realizes that she still loves Walter - who is much more open about this and wants to re-ignite their friendship - she remembers their time together where we see that they've always been doing weird shit lol, even as kids. I made a lot of them mirror their behaviour in the past and present. Unfortunately some scenes towards the end were so short that you miss glimpses of the really dramatic stuff (them covering up some murders) but I think the song alone gets the theme across. At the very end we're supposed to see that Misty DOES indeed wanna be with Walter but isn't ready just yet, while he still needs to learn more about her ruthless backstory (determined to go after her and win her back somehow, as always) - and they fall asleep thinking about their first kiss, and eachother!