#ruth sharpe

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 29 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: I'll just leave this as a small gift to all of you....enjoy! And as always, let me know what you think!

It took two more days before her uncle and cousin were sent on their way—with passes straight from Sink all the way back to England and to Thorpe Abbotts.  Ruth was grateful for the passes and the additional help.  She wasn’t sure if she would be able to take the heartbreak of having to fight for visas at a time such as this. 

And then after those two days, she was on her way to the last standing Stalag in Germany.  The only place where Abe or Robby could possibly be—and her heart just felt like a weak and fragile thing.  

Ruth hadn’t spoken since leaving those camps.  She couldn’t find the proper words.  But she had been writing.  Writing like she was running out of time and there was no tomorrow. Because for every single one of those people in the camps, they might very well pass from sickness or malnutrition—and they deserved justice.  They deserved the opportunity to live and to love and to thrive and to find their families and to be somewhere safe.  

She was hell-bent on ensuring that at least.  

Further into Germany, it was cold and there was still snow on the ground in some parts.  Shouldering her coat tighter around her shoulders, Ruth tried not to focus on the fact that Abe could be mere miles away and freezing.  Starving.  Bleeding.  Or already dead. 

Overhead, the planes went shooting by.  Ruth resided at the very back of the procession, a borrowed man from Easy Company at her side for the time being—she wasn’t sure how she had convinced Lew to come with her for at least a day or two—but here he was, sitting at her side and shaking his head. 

“It’s about to get loud,” he warned her. 

That was what Ruth had been counting on.  In the distance, she could see the Tower of the Stalag.  Residing just beyond the treeline and in a clearing, Ruth could almost taste the victory that the Allies were about to achieve.  As the shots opened up on the Stalag, Ruth covered her ears and ducked her head down in the car.  

It was the strangest feeling—this was the closest to combat Ruth had ever been but she felt calm as a summer’s day.  As if nothing were wrong and people weren’t about to surely die.  She just felt at peace. 

Lew’s elbow nudged her from her thoughts and she glanced up.  “We’re entering the clearing.  Well, the front is.” 

Ruth kept a steady gaze on the camp ahead of her. She was almost scared of what she would find once she was there.  “And into the tanks it is,” Ruth murmured as they carefully climbed down inside of the rolling thing.  They had been watching long enough and now they were going to engage with the enemy. 

A silent and never-ending prayer was in Ruth’s heart as the tanks rolled their way across the field.  Lew kept a steady hand on her shoulder.  He was acting as an anchoring force to her at the moment.  Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what she would have done without him.  She knew that she was lucky Sink had even allowed him to leave for a few days—given his vital intelligence that he was keeping up with. 

But he was one of the closest friends she had ever had.  And she trusted that if she was with him, then everything would work out fine.  And that’s what she was hoping for at the moment. 

Her lunch almost came up as they rolled over another bump and Ruth just tightly clung to her seat, waiting for the entirety of this shit-show to be over.  She had no idea how photographers for the military did it—or reporters—or nurses.  There was a reason why she had never been to the front.  She wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing and everyone knew it. 

“Please, please, please,” Ruth chanted the words under her breath like some sort of prayer. 

Let it be over soon. 

Let Abe be there.  And let him be okay. 

Let us come out of this together. 

It didn’t really stop until the flag had been placed atop the flagpole in the Stalag.  And not just any flag.  But the American Flag.  “Holy shit,” Lew mumbled, gazing through the guns.  “They got a flag up.  We’ve taken the Stalag.” 

Ruth’s head shot up.  “We did it?” 

“I mean, in a manner of speaking, yeah.” 

Her heart felt like it was going to wildly beat out of her chest.  It threatened every breath of hers and she knew that until she was on the ground in the Stalag and able to look at the men in there—until her gaze had found her youngest brother—she would not be able to breathe properly.  She wouldn’t be able to do any of it. 

Lew took her hand in his. Immediately, the tremors and the shaking just stopped.   “Let’s go find your brother.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t until the German Commander had surrendered that Ruth even began looking around the place.  The only problem was that she wasn’t all that tall compared to most of the men in the camp and there were so many people—it was going to be impossible to find anyone in this mess of people. 

Frenchmen, Americans, British—how the hell was she supposed to find Abe in a place like this? 

Ruth glanced over at Lew and then over at the tanks.  “I have an idea.” 

“Something tells me I’m not going to like it very much, am I?” 

“Probably not.” 

A few minutes later, Lew had begrudgingly boosted Ruth atop a tank.  As soon as her feet were on the solid metal, she was on her feet and ripping her helmet from her head.  Damn the fact that she was a woman and she wasn’t meant to be here.  

“Abe!  Abe!” Ruth shouted out the name. 

But it just drowned as though it was caught in a wave itself.  With the cheering and the way that everyone was gathered to see the Germans march out of the camp, it would have been a damn surprise if anyone had heard that. Ruth began to feel a pit of desperation growing in her chest like a damn weed.  

Come on, come on—

Just as her hope was dying out in her chest, Ruth heard a loud whistle that caught her attention.  Her head snapped around and when she turned, she found a group of familiar faces sitting atop a roof.  “RUTH!” 

And right there was Abe. 

Ruth didn’t even hesitate in leaping from the tank and sprinting through the crowd to get to her brother.  She shoved and pushed and he did the same.  Ruth ran—she ran as though the war had ended and everything was suddenly going to be alright.  And it wasn’t until she had collided with her brother and felt Abe in her arms that she let out a sob. 

“Oh you stupid, stupid—underaged—high-school dropout—shithead!” Ruth exclaimed, shoving at his arms and then taking his face in her hands to look him over.  He had a few bruises on his face and a cut near his eyebrow, but other than that, Abe Sharpe looked absolutely fine.  Better than fine—though he was crying just as much as she was at the moment.  

“How the hell are you—” 

“I missed your birthday!” Ruth realized in horror, pulling him in for another hug.  “You’re 18 now, you stupid, stupid—” 

“Well there’s a sight I thought I’d never see again.” 

Ruth couldn’t help the fact that she froze on the ground at the sound of the voice.  The sound of her brother John’s voice.  John, who she hadn’t seen since 1942—John, who was supposed to be KIA.  John, whose locker she never picked up in London. John Sharpe, her other brother—who was standing a few feet away, a tired grin on his face and bundled up in a coat. 

“Oh my god!” Ruth scrambled to her feet and pulled John into the fiercest hug of his life.  He had gotten taller and bigger since the time she had seen him last—and given the fact that it had been a few years, she wasn’t altogether surprised by that.  He just held onto her so tightly, head buried in her mass of curls.  “How the hell are you here?” She demanded through a choked sob. 

John just gave a grin.  “Made it to a lifeboat and got picked up by a German U-Boat.  I’ve been here for a while.  Not as long as David though.” 

If Ruth thought for one second that she was done being surprised, she was sorely mistaken.  Because the next person who pulled her into a fierce hug was her cousin David, who she hadn’t seen in years.  He and Abe were roughly the same age and she thought for certain, he had been lost in the mass of executions in Europe. 

“How—” Ruth breathed out, just holding onto the three boys in utter relief and shock. 

“I made it out of Germany back in 40.  Traveled up to Denmark, then to England—took a while to get my citizenship for England but I was part of the RAF,” David explained, a beaming grin on his face. “Imagine my surprise when John here shows up and then Abe!” 

“And now you!” Abe added. 

“OH!” Ruth exclaimed.  “I found Uncle Yosef and cousin Sveta!” 

“Seriously?” John blurted, eyes nearly the size of saucers.  “You found more of us?” 

“I found you,” Ruth couldn’t help but letting the tears stream down her face.  And then the thought that she had not seen Robby yet occurred to her.  “Where’s—” 

“He made it onto the Russian side,” Abe explained.  “He’s probably back at Thorpe Abbotts right now wondering where the hell you’re at.” 

“Well I’ll be damned,” A new voice joined the conversation.  And whether it was because she was feeling utterly sentimental and over-emotional, Ruth wasn’t sure.  But she sprinted straight at Bucky and hugged the living daylights out of the man. 

 “Thank you for taking care of Abe.” 

He just grinned into the hug and gave her an awkward pat on the back.  “I mean—I figured if he showed up here, you weren’t going to be far behind.  I gave it, what?  40 days, gentlemen?” 

The other pilots from Thorpe Abbotts had slowly begun to trickle over.  And Captain Brady, solemn as ever, just shook his head.  “He called you the Jewish Jesus—showing up in 40 days and whatnot.” 

“Jesus was Jewish,” Abe pointed out, crossing his arms as he stared down Brady. 

“Argue later, boys,” Ruth insisted.  She turned, giving Bucky an exasperated pat on the cheek.  “Sacrilege, huh?  Do better.” 

“I did.  You showed up, didn’t you?” 

[ulrichgebert]

Ein Liebesfilm. Da manche Mädchen einfach nicht von dieser Welt sind, informierte ich mich vorsichtshalber nochmal, wie diese auf Parties korrekt anzusprechen sind. Für Außerirdischen gelten zwar im Prinzip anderere Regeln, welche hier aber keine Verwendung finden, weil die kleinen Punks in Croydon annehmen, so sonderbar wie sie sich benehmen, sind es wohl Amerikaner. Muss als einer der besseren Filme mit Nicole Kidman gewertet werden.

[waltricia]

I never noticed before how fitting this casting was:

(Claudia Jessie and Ruth Gemmell)

Especially considering this:

(Claudia Jessie and Rupert Evans (Edmund Bridgerton))

Also LOL I just noticed this:

(Rupert Evans and Calam Lynch (Theo Sharpe))

I think mayhaps Eloise might have a bit of a complex.

[didanagy]

BRIDGERTON SEASON 2 (2022)

[nofatclips]

All I Know of Love, a film by Emma Ruth Rundle and Geert Braekers

[suzannahnatters]

HEY GUYS I'M COMING TO THE US LET'S MEET UP ~ Book Signing Event!!! ~ WHERE: Barnes & Noble Polaris in Columbus, Ohio WHEN: June 11th from 2-5 PM WITH: RJ Anderson, W.R. Gingell, Rosamund Hodge, and Joanna Ruth Meyer!

Let me just rave about my chums for a minute - - R.J. Anderson, who writes wonderful, old-school YA fantasy about fairies and faith! (Try KNIFE, I couldn't put it down)

- W.R. Gingell, author of beloved Aussie urban fantasy series THE CITY BETWEEN (my fave is BETWEEN WALLS but you have to read the whole thing)

- Rosamund Hodge, author of dark and bittersweet parables of sin, redemption, and stabbing things (if you haven't read CRIMSON BOUND what are you even doing with yourself)

- Joanna Ruth Meyer, author of heartfelt and evocative YA fantasies (INTO THE HEARTLESS WOOD is the cottagecore tree siren story you never knew you needed).

- And ME, your favourite author of ridiculously over-researched historical fantasy!

(- Also possibly a sixth MYSTERY AUTHOR watch this space)

IF you want to purchase books, you can snag a copy of DARK CLOUDS on the day, or if there's a specific title you want, be sure to call B&N Polaris at (614) 854-0339 and ask them to order it in for you.

11 June! Please come! Bring any books you want signed! It will be SO thrilling to meet you!

[kismetmoon]

i just realised i never talked about it before, but here’s Ruth’s full form under her cloak :

[ID: a digital monochrome drawing of an original stylised Flatland character, Ruth, on an off-white background.

Ruth is a humanoid character who has dark grey with light grey patches, a round half-lidded eye with a point on the top and four bottom eyelashes, a rectangular body, thin limbs, a ‘dent’ on the lower half of her body and a short tail.

On the left, Ruth is standing and waving out her left arm while the other is at her side. She is absently staring to the right. There is an arrow in the middle, which leads to the other drawing of Ruth on the right. She is holding her cane in her right hand and looking down to some white bandages covering the dent in her torso.

End ID.]

it’s essentially the flatland equivalent of traumatic lumbar scoliosis. she’s been left with a sort of indentation that pushed back her lower torso and goes in her right side and out her left. because of this, it throws her balance off slightly when walking (and having a shorter tail than usual doesn’t help in this situation), hence she uses a cane when she needs to leave the house for food, errands, etc. the bandages are just to prevent her from scratching the healed scar bc it’s almost always itchy.

[ID: two digital drawings of an original stylised Flatland character, Ruth.

In the first photo, it is a close-up of Ruth’s dent as seen from the side. There is an orange line to highlight the scar left in her torso from the dent. There is orange hand-written text on the left that reads “scar”. The black text on the right reads “side view”. The background is off-white.

In the second photo, it is a black, colourless outline drawing of Ruth. She is looking down towards the scoliosis back brace on her torso, with her arms held up and away from her body. The background is white.

End ID.]

if she had gotten proper treatment she would have had a brace similar to this. however, her mother wasn’t willing to wait long enough for it to heal like this and hated the sight of it, so she lied to Ruth about there being no proper treatment - or even just pain relief help - available for her case.

there’s a more in-depth explanation of what happened to Ruth under the cut, but warnings for murder, assault, accidental murder, child neglect and disownment.

what i’m working with is that Ruth was waiting outside a shop with her mother while her father went inside to get something. an isosceles who came rushing out of the adjacent alleyway (who had just got into a heated argument ending in the other party being shattered) fled the scene so quickly that he ended up running straight into a tween Ruth on his way out of the alley. he was able to catch himself before he got sliced up, but ultimately left Ruth with her ‘dent’ and left himself with a nasty crack that nearly completely ran down the middle of his frame.

he would later on succumb to this injury, leaving Ruth feeling immense guilt for being involved in another’s death (even though it wasn’t ever her fault).

her parents (a square family, with Ruth being their only child) tried to have her lasting depression dealt with and this ‘dent’ straightened out. while it was considered that one of her sides could easily be pushed back in, it was nearly impossible to pull the indented side back out - so they had to leave it for ruth’s ‘survival’. her depression only worsened and she developed extreme isoscelesphobia (it is what you think it is).

it comes up to her 18th birthday and she’s suddenly kicked out of the house five days later as her mother doesn’t want their family name “tarnished with an irregular daughter” that she’d be “ashamed to marry off to a poor soul”. so Ruth is forced to leave, but fortunately her father (who had no say in the disowning, and whose hand was completely forced by his wife’s decision) had bought the small cottage in the woods as her 18th birthday present as a place for her to reside to prevent her from becoming completely homeless. (but this is sad because he was obviously in on the discussion of her getting abandoned and wanted to guarantee her some shelter before she left, so he knew to purchase a house…but he still didn’t warn her about her impending eviction or fight to keep her with the family).

she’s 25 now and has lived there ever since, and Liz moved in with her about six years ago.

[manicpixiedepressedwitch]

some fave looks from the gq man of the year party

[witchvvolf]

[lilac-axolotl]

(tw:blood and sharp objects/torture machinery)

I got a ruth goldbirg machine for christmas :]

[flora-file]

sit a spell

don't mind that giant agave with plans to draw blood

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 22 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: Also a fun chapter that I think you’ll all enjoy 😉 so let me know what you think and don’t forget that my requests are open for this fic!

Late May 1944

Ruth found that sleep was running away from her, far away—in the other direction as fast as it could.  And it wasn’t just because the invasion of Normandy was coming up and that was in and of itself stressful to every single person on the damn base, but more so for those who were planning the thing.  Her lack of sleep was very simple, really. 

After reaching the 28 missions, Rosie had insisted that he stay and the rest of the men could go home on their tour.  Which would have been fine and dandy, and Ruth probably would still be sleeping just fine—except for the fact that Abe had insisted on staying by Robby’s side. The boy had every opportunity and chance to go home and he didn’t want to go.  Didn’t want to leave Robby without a proper navigator.  Didn’t want to leave Ruth on her own with Liesel. 

So now Ruth was left with Robby and Abe still going up in the skies for godforsaken missions that always left her feeling worse than before.  Because surely, the more they went up, the more likely God would be to strike them down for challenging their good fortune and fate.  You don’t tempt God like that, you just don’t. And no amount of Ruth’s prayers were going to change that. 

That was her first problem.  Her second problem was Robert Rosenthal entirely.  Ever since the mission number had been changed, things had been off.  She’d been the same as always, clinging to her own biting remarks and sarcastic comments—the thrill of arguing with one another ever so appealing.  He had been the one to take a step back from all of that and be so sickeningly nice to her that there was almost no appeal in being mean to him anymore.  

But that wasn’t what was keeping her up at night. 

No, the thing that kept her up at night was that damningly haunting kiss that she was certain would linger in the back of her mind like some sort of tattoo or brand.  It never should’ve happened in the first place, heat of the moment be damned.  She shouldn't have propelled that or encouraged that sort of behavior, not when her reputation was already practically in shambles. 

She had heard what some of the new men had been calling her.  Rosenthal’s bitch.  Rosenthal’s whore.  As if she were some sort of property or object that belonged singularly to Robert Rosenthal—as if he could ever be so lucky to hold even a fraction of her time or affections in any universe. She hadn’t minded the names before, but the tie to Robby was more than enough to make her blood boil. 

That stupid Major with his stupid promotion and his stupid mustache and his stupid hair gel and his stupidly soft hands that she wished were touching her right now in this moment and goodness, she was feeling quite heated and damp and—

Ruth sat straight up in the bed.  Hell no, not today.  No more wet dreams about Robert freakin’ Rosenthal, not today, not ever.  No thank you, Lord.  It only took her a few seconds to glance at the clock and be annoyed.  It was far too early for the day to have started but she didn’t really have a choice now. 

Starting her prayers, she immediately prayed for the physical attraction to Robert Rosenthal to cease immediately—because that just wasn’t fair or right, after all.  After finishing up her prayers, Ruth hurried to dress. 

As soon as she had entered the bathroom, she found Liesel knocking at the door.  Ruth felt a modicum of guilt run through her—Liesel’s sleep shouldn’t suffer just because Ruth was feeling particularly horny.  God, maybe she should’ve just taken Bucky’s advice and gotten laid or something.  

“It’s early, you should get some sleep,” Ruth apologized quietly. 

“You said you’d help me with my English,” Liesel replied quietly. 

“That I did,” Ruth remembered with a nod.  “Should we head to the Mess Hall and I can help you there?” 

Liesel just gave a nod.  “That would be fine.” 

A few moments later, the two women found themselves in the Mess Hall—which was mostly deserted.  It would be at least another hour before breakfast was ready to be served to anyone, but they had English homework to do.  Ruth had just been in the middle of helping Liesel with a paragraph about a politician in England (they had chosen Winston Churchill), when Abe came sauntering over. 

“Hey!  I see Ruthie’s enrolled you in her early morning School Boot Camp!” Abe exclaimed, giving a large grin to Liesel. 

The two of them had become somewhat of friends within the last few months and Ruth was altogether certain that without Abe, Liesel would be even more reserved than she already was.  Liesel gave an innocent smile in Abe’s direction as he joined the family members at the table.  

“Is she always this bossy?” Liesel questioned, raising a brow. 

“From the day my mother discovered she was pregnant with her, yes,” Abe answered solemnly, earning himself a flick to the head from Ruth. 

“If I recall, I helped you with plenty of papers too, Mr. Math-Is-Better-Than-English.” 

“It makes more sense to me!  And I always said thank you!” Abe added in a defensive tone. 

Liesel grinned and gave a laugh.  “You both remind me of Sveta and Herman.”

At that, the teasing slightly died down.  Sveta and Herman were Liesel’s older siblings by two years.  They had been twins and as far as any of them knew, they were both dead now.  It was getting easier for Liesel to mention her family members, but still remained a somber topic amongst the group. 

“To be fair,” Ruth stated lightly.  “I argue with just about everyone I meet.” 

“And ne’er a truer statement has been made,” Came the familiar tone of Robert Rosenthal from a few feet away.  

Ruth almost gave a sigh.  There was just no escaping him—not in dreams and certainly not in reality.  But there he was, a grin on his face and some chocolate in hand for Liesel.  “Are you here to argue as well?” Ruth questioned, a smirk crossing her features. 

“I like to think I’ve gained some wisdom and know better than to argue with you.” 

“I’d argue that you haven’t learned that yet.” 

“No, I’m actually here with a message from Colonel Bennett.” 

At that, Ruth straightened up to attention.  “Of course.” She followed him a short distance away from the table, eyes expectantly set on him.  “What is it?” 

“They’re pushing back the invasion again.” 

A string and slew of curses that would have surely made her mother force her to be a nun spilled from Ruth’s mouth.  “Seriously?” She demanded, eyes twitching in annoyance at the thought.  

“Inclement weather means June will be the best bet.” 

“Inclement weather didn’t stop the Egyptians from chasing the Israelites.” 

“I’m not sure that’s your best analogy there, Ruth.” 

“Neither am I,” Ruth let out a slight huff, glancing back at Abe and Liesel doing homework together.  “Anything else?” 

“Yeah,” Robby said.  “They’re throwin’ a party.  A last hurrah for some of the guys before the invasion.” 

Ruth’s shoulders intensely deflated.  “A party before?  Doesn’t that seem a little preemptive to you?” 

“Well yeah, but I’m sure their thinking is that a lot of people will die so they might as well have some fun now,” Robby said, hands straying to his pockets as he rocked on his feet slightly.  

“Hm,” Ruth let out a sigh.  “Okay.  A party.  Fine.” 

“Civilians included.  That means that Liesel can come.” 

At that, Ruth gave a small smile and her gaze locked onto Liesel’s form.  “I’m sure she’ll love that.  Any chance I can convince you to help me babysit her and Abe?” 

He gave a grin.  “I was just about to offer my services in exchange for a dance.” 

Now this, going back to their original contract, Ruth could handle that.  Ruth gave a grin and turned to leave.  “Wear the other tie, not the beige one!” 

“Yes ma’am!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruth had long since finished getting ready for the dreaded party in which they would preemptively be celebrating the oncoming invasion of Europe.  It was in poor taste, at least to her lawyerly sensibilities.  She’d much rather be planning and wait to celebrate until after the day was won and they had actually stepped foot on the continent.  

Still, with hair coiffed to perfection and a vibrant red lip, Ruth was now helping Liesel painstakingly place the bow in her own hair.  “Well, what do we think?” Ruth leaned forward, staring at their reflections in the mirror. 

Liesel poked at one of her own cheeks, a frown at the freckles found there.  “I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do about these?” 

“Not at your age, darling,” Ruth grinned.  “I used to think the same thing about my own freckles.  Gangly things, but I grew into them.  And so will you, I promise.” 

Liesel gave a small nod, looking at her own reflection in the mirror.  “Do you think I look like mama?” 

Ruth’s hands stilled on Liesel’s shoulders, a pang of grief running through the girl.  “I think you look very much like your mother.  You’re both beautiful.” 

At that, Liesel’s smile widened.  “You think so?” 

“I know so,” Ruth didn’t dare press a kiss to Liesel’s cheek, if only so that the girl didn’t get lipstick all over her face.  Rather than do that, Ruth leaned forward and gave Liesel a squeeze, bright smile adorning her features.  A knock at the door sounded and Ruth glanced at the doorway.  “Now, I believe our dates are here.” 

Liesel gave a gag of disgust.  “I don’t think they count.” 

“No, they certainly don’t,” Ruth reassured her.  

True to Ruth’s words, both Abe and Rosie were dutifully waiting outside for both of the girls.  Ruth couldn’t help the slight smirk at the sight of both of them—matching navy ties on and hair slicked to the point of zero curls available.  

“Aww, well aren’t you the prettiest girl on the whole damn base!” Abe exclaimed, a grin on his face as he slung his arm around Liesel’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry, I’ll fight off any men that wanna dance with ya!” 

Liesel just gave him a pointed look, hands on her hips.  “Well you’re not 18 either so I’ll fight off any girls that try to dance with you too.” 

With Liesel standing there and hands on her hips, Robby couldn’t help the grin on his face.  It was clear as day the habits that she was picking up from Ruth and this was most certainly one of them.  Robby’s gaze flicked onto Ruth, who seemed relaxed and pleased with the situation. 

“You’ve done it now, Sharpe.  Turned her into a mini-Shark lawyer,” Robby gestured at Liesel. 

“Oh just give it a year.  I’ll have her wanting to do depositions in no time.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dance felt truthfully very monotonous.  Everyone knew why they were having a party now and not later.  And everyone was doing their best to mask the way that they felt about the entire thing.  Whether it be through drinking or flirting or dancing or conversation, people were absolutely pretending that the invasion wasn’t imminent.  That people wouldn’t die and it wouldn’t be a costly thing within a few days. 

“You could just relax.” 

“Hitler could surrender.” 

“What?” 

“I thought we were listing things with the same probability as me relaxing,” Ruth snarked, gaze falling on Jack Kidd. 

“Well it’s just that your part is fairly done for the planning.” 

“Perhaps,” Ruth retorted.  “I don’t understand how you can relax now though.  There’s still so much to be done.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” Kidd questioned, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Everyone in my entire life.” 

“So maybe that oughta be a sign to you or something.” 

“I don’t believe in signs.” 

At that, Kidd just gave a snort.  “Well, clearly.  You’re ignoring all of the ones right in front of you.” 

Ruth couldn’t help but swivel her position, gaze falling on him curiously.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Cros mentioned a few things.” 

“I bet he did, the weasel.” 

“Well that’s not very nice.” 

“I’ve never cared about niceties.” 

“No, I guess you haven’t.” 

“I haven’t,” Ruth agreed.  “And if this is about Rosenthal—I don’t think I need a lecture on my boyfriend.” 

“Except for the fact that you’re walking around blind because it’s all an act.  I can’t figure out why the hell it is, but I truthfully don’t want to get involved.  Just figure your shit out, Sharpe.” 

“Noted.” 

Ruth really should have seen it all coming—Jack Kidd figuring things out.  She ruminated on it the rest of the party, annoyed by whatever Harry Crosby thought was going on between her and Robby.  What they had going was a great system of things—with emotions carefully tied off to the side in ribbons and presents that she didn’t have to touch. 

In fact, she was so focused on the singular comment about figuring things out that she hardly noticed when the party ended or when Abe offered to take Liesel back to the barracks.  She hardly noticed when she gave a nod and ended up just giving in.  She hardly noticed when Robby offered to walk her back and it wasn’t until they were walking back towards the barracks themselves that she even realized she had been so lost in thought. 

A soft elbow to her arm caught her attention.  “I think this is the quietest I’ve ever seen you.  Somethin’ wrong or just focusing on the war more?” Robby questioned. 

Ruth turned, dark eyes meeting his blue ones—and damnit, those eyes were like the ocean and she hated it.  “Sorry?” 

He grinned.  “You’re really thinking hard about something, aren’t you?” 

“Did you tell Crosby about our deal?” 

Her words caught him off guard and he nearly stopped short, eyes going wide at her.  “I mean—yeah, he knows, but—” 

“Why the hell would you tell him?!  I thought we agreed we weren’t telling anyone!  Now Kidd knows and he’s got questions and he told me to figure out my shit and I’m so beyond frustrated with you!” 

“I—” Robby’s voice tore off at the end and he just let out a heavy sigh, rubbing at his eyes in annoyance.  “I didn’t mean for anyone else to find out about it—” 

“It seems you didn’t mean anything, actually.  Do you ever intend anything?” Ruth snapped.  Before he could even respond to that, Ruth was walking in frustration towards the runway, fully intended to just get the hell away from Robert Rosenthal and his betrayal—which yet again stung because he couldn’t even keep this one simple thing secret.  It was aggravating.  She had not told anyone but he certainly had. 

Robby immediately began following after her, calling her name—but all of it just fell on deaf ears.  When Ruth was mad, there was no coming down from that until she was good and ready and it was her timing, no one else’s.  

Her head just felt like it was spinning.  Robby and Abe and her had a damn good system going.  But things just kept throwing it off for them—wildly changing the dynamic.  Adding Liesel had been hard enough, but they had adapted and now the four of them were a small sort of family—unconventional as it may have been.  Ruth just felt like a damn fool, for having fallen for the whole thing.  

No matter what it felt like at times, they would never be a family.  Robby wasn’t part of their family and they weren’t part of his.  It was just a meeting of the circumstances for something that felt like home, nothing more.  This wasn’t a safe place or somewhere to make friends.  Nowhere was.  

“Ruth, Ruth—hey, I’m sorry!” Robby exclaimed, finally catching up to her and catching her by the shoulders. 

Ruth just gave a snarl, shoving his hands off of her.  “No, I’m angry and I get to be angry. You think any of this has been easy for me?!” 

At that, Robby gave a scoff, breath hot on her face as irritation flickered.  “You think it’s been easy for me?” 

“They don’t call you Rosenthal’s whore or Rosenthal’s bitch, so yeah, I think I got the short end of the stick here,” Ruth hissed the words out.  

The blood seemed to drain from his face and Robby went entirely still, as though he had been shot as he stood there.  “Who calls you that?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“No, who calls you that?” 

“I don’t need you fighting my damn battles,” Ruth’s chin jutted upwards defiantly as she stared into the cobalt of his eyes.  Eyes that she thought were just as infuriating as the skies and seas—sometimes safe and somewhere she wanted to be.  Other times they were just as tumultuous and uncontrollable as nature.  

“I know you don’t.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No you don’t.” 

“No.  I don’t think I do,” Ruth admitted, voice barely above a whisper.  “But I’m very cross with you right now.  I—I could just—” Her voice broke off at the end and she just stared at him.  It felt as though she were drowning in this anger and rage and—and—loneliness.  

And it hit her all at once that if Robby went up in the skies for the invasion of Normandy, it was altogether likely that he wouldn’t be returning.  That he could die.  And this could be one of the last times that she would ever see him.  And it was altogether possible that he might be the only person who could tolerate her company.  

So whether it was out of a place of emotions running high or just being worried about him (he was her friend now, after all), Ruth did something she was going to regret.  She grabbed Robert Rosenthal by the tie and smashed their lips together.  It was by no means careful or considerate, and for a second, he floundered at the movement. 

Their teeth accidentally clashed against one another as his hands strayed down to her waist.  Ruth didn’t mind the drowning feeling, nor did she mind the taste of alcohol that lingered on his lips.  It gave a familiar buzz to the kiss.  She had half a mind to drop down to her knees and give this man a real goodbye, one that he’d never forget—her lipstick would smear him and stain him for days and there would be nothing he could do about it.  But this was neither the time or the place for that and the boldness she felt at being the one to kiss him was currently faltering.  

Hadn’t she said this was a mistake?  Hadn’t she been the one to try and correct things between the two of them?  Hadn’t she also been the one to slip her fingers inside and imagine that it was Robby’s hands—a pure and carnal physicality, she was sure.  

But as Robby’s lips slipped down her lips and to her jaw and she shucked his jacket from his body, Ruth wasn’t certain of anything anymore.  She reattached her lips to his and gave a light nip at his bottom lip—and some sort of growl spilled from his lips.  The next thing Ruth knew, she was being walked backwards until her back had hit a solid metal surface and Ruth recognized the surface as a plane. 

She wasn’t sure whose it was.  She wasn’t sure she cared at the moment. 

His nimble fingers dragged the neckline of her dress down and kneaded against her breasts.  Ruth felt as though she were levitating as Robby pressed against her with one of his knees.  Oh friction—she had missed the friction of another human being.  Her hips hitched slightly higher, rubbing against him.  Something seemed to spark in him and his fingers locked around one of her breasts. In one fell movement, he had ripped the top of her dress down, exposing her chest to the warm summer air.  He toyed with the edge of her brassiere for a moment and then his fingers slipped under it, cold and calloused.  Tingles spread across her flesh and curled right down into her toes.  

A gasp unwillingly spilled from her throat—and mortification almost crossed her features but she wasn’t given a chance to explore that.  He pinched and then bit and sucked and Ruth clawed at his back like an animal begging for release. And she desperately needed a release. 

But there was no relief or release to be had.  Not today. 

The blaring lights and sirens going off about a bomb warning were the thing that made them break away from each other, wide-eyed and horrified as they stared at each other. 

Robby immediately was averting his gaze, giving Ruth the privacy to readjust the top of her dress, which had slipped down past her chest.  “I—I shouldn’t have—you were right the first time about all of this,” Robby mumbled out.  “We can’t keep doing this.” 

Ruth wished she could say that her heart wasn’t beating a million miles per minute.  Or that she truly did regret what she had done. But she could say any of that.  She just gave a nod and stared at the ground. 

“I’m sorry too.” 

Had they gone too far—where was the line for these two? And if there was a line, had they just crossed it?

[mungdou]

DANDELIONS

PR. ushijima x reader; semi x reader

W. swears

GR. angst

WC. 2.4k

AN. Oh I live for ushijima angst. Anyways, requests are open as of 06/2024 :)) go ham pookies. Inspired by dandelions by Ruth. B.

(pt. 2)

『Maybe, it's the way you say my name Maybe, it's the way you play your game But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you』

"y/l/n. May I ask you a question?" Ushijima turned around to look at your distant figure, clipboard in hand.

"Mm? What's up Toshi?" You replied, smiling up at the larger man.  

His bulky body blocked most of your vision, but he wasn't clumsy. His voice was deep and commanding, but never once did it demand anything from anyone. He was the gentle giant in your life, but you couldn't help but wish he were your gentle giant.

Of course, you weren't the only one who felt the same for the man, but he had always been oblivious to any advances.

"Why do you not have a second manager to aid your business? I notice you tend to rush around, so for your sake, please recruit another manager." He wiped his sweat-covered neck with a small white towel and took a sip of water before running back out on the court to continue practice, called back by the sharp whistle.

He cares about you.

He didn't stick around for your response, but you made sure that you took up his suggestion.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

During lunch the day after, you posted flyers around the school asking for assistant managers. As expected, the applications came rapidly and your eyes landed on one.

Aoi Nishiyama, second year, experience with managing outdoor youth sports clubs

She was perfect.

Two days later, after her confirmation, you found a girl peeking through the gym doors.

"Hello? Is there something I can help you with?" As you approached her, you noticed that it was Nishiyama. "Oh! Nishiyama-"

"Oh, you can just call me Aoi." She shyly grinned, turning towards you.

"Aoi. I'm so glad you decided to join us! Come with me, I have to give you a tour and- oh! What size are you? I need it for your uniform fitting-" Once again, you were interrupted, but this time by the olive-skinned ace.

"y/l/n. Who is this?" Ushijima looked at the timid girl with interest.

"Oh yes! Toshi this is-"

"Aoi. Aoi Nishimiya, but you can just call me Aoi." She stumbled out, her face flushed red with... embarrassment?

Ushijima greeted her, his hand lingering in the air before he turned away to get back to practice. He almost looked flustered, though someone could have easily missed his changed expression.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

After a month of Aoi working with us on the volleyball team, the team outing took place. It was in a large field, perfect for leisure games and a summer barbecue.

The third years sat in a field, covered in fluffy white dandelions.

"Let's make a wish!" Tendou proposed, leaping onto his lanky legs, and running around to face the rest of the third years before plopping back onto the ground.

"We're too old for this, you dumbass." Semi glared at the redhead.

"I've never partaken in this wishing process. How is it done?" Ushijima furrowed his eyebrows.

You took two dandelions out from the ground and handed one to him. He inspected the hollow stemmed plant, rotating it every so often. His actions were mesmerizing, you didn't want to pull your eyes away.

Tendou plucked his flower out of the ground, smiling, "So! You take the dandelion and you blow it and make your wish, but make sure you don't-"

"My wish is to be in love with someone on the volleyball team." Ushijima bluntly stated before huffing at the delicate flower.

Something about the statement startles you, and your face begins to heat up.

"-say your wish out loud... but anyways... who is it Wakatoshi-kun??" You do like girls, yes?" Tendou peruses, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed.

"Yes."

"Hmmmm... There are only two girls on the team, yes? Aoi-chan and y/n/n-san... Which could it be... WAIT! Everyone everyone, place your bets! Y/N/N-SANNNN you're part of this bet so you can't participate~" Tendou muses, whipping out his phone to take notes.

At this point, your face is beet red, buried in your hands, your eyelids shut closed. Tendou runs around, asking the other 3rd years for their thoughts.

"AND THE BETS HAVE BEEN PLACED!" The guess monster beamed, "Now, state your reasons!!"

"I think it's the way he looks at Aoi. He's always looking in her direction with some kind of determination or something"

That's because you're with her, right?

"Nah~ it's probably y/n, I mean, they've known each other since middle school, and he's super open with her"

Exactly, you've known him for so much longer, it only makes sense.

"No it's totally Aoi, what do you mean y/n?? Do you see how quickly he got along with her?"

He got along with you quickly too, though.

"Guys I'm right here-" You sighed, your face remaining the shade of a cherry. "But continue I guess."

"Aoi." His deep voice resonated in your body, shocking every bone in it. His face lightened as he lightly smiled.

Bouts of cheering, groans, and laughter filled the air, but all you could do was stare at Ushijima and try not to drop your jaw. The thoughts began to rush through your brain, laced with insecurity.

How did she captivate him like that?

What does he like about her?

What does she have that you don't?

You looked down at the fluffy flower in your hand. Its delicate seeds could carry your wish far and wide, but would it even be received?

『'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions Wishing on everyone that you'll be mine, mine』

It doesn't matter, right? You might as well try, even if it doesn't work.

"Fuuuuu" You exhaled onto the delicate ball.

I want Toshi to realize I'm perfect for him... No no... that's too creepy...

I want Wakatoshi Ushijima to like me.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

That day, he confessed to Aoi. The boys had run around the field looking for the girl, and when they found her, they practically picked her up and transported her to Toshi.

It wasn't hard for him to confess to her, he was straightforward, as usual. She ended up saying that she reciprocated his feelings, and they started dating.

It wasn't too hard to bear in the beginning. They would sit at your table during lunch and chat with the other members of the team, Ushijima would hold her much smaller hand in his callused ones. As they ate, Aoi would lean on his shoulder affectionately.

I wish that were me.

Not long after, you noticed you had become shunned by the others at the table. If you put a word in the conversation, you would either be ignored or spoken over as they continued the conversation. Most of the time, it was Aoi speaking over you. It hurt, admittedly. Your friends. People you had known for years had, for the first time, left you out of a conversation, attracted to the sweet and innocent voice of Aoi Nishimiya. The girl they met only 2 months ago.

Eventually, they forgot you were even there.

This began to creep into your practices and hangouts, all of which Aoi attended. you acted as you did, caring for those there, making jokes, being... yourself.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

About a week later, you were approached by Ushijima, who had an extra serious face. To be honest, he looked almost constipated. His walk had a hesitant swagger to it as he came towards me. Far behind him was Aoi, fiddling her thumbs and looking the other way.

"Y/n."

『'Cause it gets so hard to breathe When you're looking at me, I've never felt so alive and free When you're looking at me, I've never felt so happy』

"Tosh... Ushijima-san" You smiled, the stress washing away. Finally, someone wanted to talk to you, to be in... no... to acknowledge your presence.

"We should– hanging... together. It... Aoi uncomfortable." Ushijima muttered under his breath.

"Huh?" You couldn't believe your ears... Was he saying what you thought he was? "I'm sorry... could you repeat that? I couldn't understand you."

"We should–" He pauses, clearing his throat. "We should stop meeting. It makes Aoi uncomfortable."

Your head jerked up. "What?" You whispered, though your voice seemed to bellow through the silent indoor court, bouncing off the walls. "What... I... Follow me." Your voice lowered and you grabbed his wrist, dragging the ace out of the room.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" You demanded, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

"Excuse me?"

Your face contorted with fury, your hands balled into fists. It took every ounce of your body to hold yourself back.

"Does me being around... make you uncomfortable?" You quivered in anger, looking straight into his unbothered eyes. "Does it?" Your voice was unnaturally cold and it took every ounce of you to not shout

"It-" He began.

"WHY-" Your voice shouted before catching yourself, "Am I that annoying? Is there something I can change? I'll do anything you want me to, just say what's wrong with me, I'll fix it."

A person in love will do anything to be appreciated by the one they adore.

All you want is for him to be happy, but you can't.. no you can't live without him. You can't imagine your life without him, even if it isn't in the way You want it to be.

"You do make me uncomfortable." Five words, and you began to crumble.

"If you'd like to know the truth, you are overly affectionate."

crack.

"You cannot set boundaries, even though you know I am in a relationship."

snap.

"You don't know how to stop being a people pleaser who can't help but say yes."

crack.

"You are nothing but a thorn in my side. You often distract me from playing right and you've created a rift in my romantic life. There is nothing for you to fix because nothing is there to fix. You have always been this way and you will always be this way."

crumble.

Satisfied with his words, he walked back into the enclosed court, greeting his girlfriend standing behind the gray doors. She peered out towards your frozen body, pity and satisfaction lacing her face.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The air in the gym was cold, not a noise to be heard throughout the massive building. They all heard him say that. They all knew it was wrong. You weren't a nuisance to Ushijima, but no one wanted to say anything otherwise to the ace.

"Y/n-" Semi stepped forward, reaching out to try and comfort you, but Leon put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from rushing out. Tendou and Goshiki looked towards the ace trudging back to practice, Aoi running up to him with big eyes and a volleyball in hand to toss for practice.

You couldn't move. you didn't want to move. Semi shrugged off Leon's hand and stepped outside. "Let's go. C'mon." His hand dropped to the small of your back and guided your back out. It felt like all of the blood left your body and all that was left was your dull husk. You walked for a while. You don't know how long it took, but soon you could see the local convenience store in the distance. You plopped down on a brick fence and fat, warm, tears began to fall. You guessed the initial shock wore off, but the tears wouldn't stop, and soon your eyes were blurry with tears.

After a while, a blue fuzzy object appeared. You blinked away the salty tears, drying them with your sleeves, and saw a soda ice pop on your lap. "Here. Sweets help the tears." Semi gently said, smiling at you. In his hands, he had an unopened pack of tissues.

"You must think I'm pathetic. Hah, everyone probably thinks that at this point, ooh what's y/n without Ushiwaka, she's his dog." You waved your hands around, mocking god knows what. You looked down and opened the packaging. "Why are you here anyway? Don't you have practice? Coach Washijo's gonna yell at you again. Anyways... Thanks for the pop... you didn't have t-"

"I wanted to be here. And it's not like I'm that important to the team, after all, we have Shirabu now for setting. I'll probably get yelled at a bit, but it's worth it. I'd rather you be with someone than alone." Semi blurted, he was trying his best.

You giggled, snorting before catching yourself. Semi looked reassured by that. "Mmm... it feels nice that someone's still on my side." You sat there in silence for a while, and soon your pops were down to the stick and the sun had set.

"You got a free pop." Semi pointed out, before grabbing the stick and walking into the store to redeem it. You can't understand why he's here, He could literally be anywhere else, so why here of all places?

"Y'know, she's not all that." He spoke, walking out and gesturing with you to walk with him. "But anyways, you should talk about it. At least let out how you feel, if you're comfortable, that is. It's better than bottling it up."

You looked down, not sure what to say. "I mean, I don't think that he's the kind of person to throw away a friendship for a relationship this early- or even ever. But I don't want to fight it, he can figure it out by himself." I ran a few feet ahead before whipping around to face Semi. I gestured to myself and bounced on the balls of my feet, "All I can say is that he's gonna be missing out on the joy I bring to the table." Semi paused, then doubled over laughing.

"You certainly have a way of getting over heartbreak." He walked up to you, hooking your arm in his. You smiled softly, leaning your head on his arm and holding his arm tightly as you walked back to the gym.

"Thank you, Semi-Semi." You murmured into his sleeve.

"You're welcome y/n... never tell Tendou I let you call me that" He smiled and looked down at the top of your head.

"No promises." You looked up, matching his serene expression. "Can't wait for the lecture we're gonna get in about 5 minutes."

Semi froze. "Shit."

AN: lmk if you want a pt. 2 :)

masterlist || request

[m-musings]

Headcanons: TF2 Mercs + Dumb Pickup Lines

Word Count:268 Warnings/ Other Notes: just spoutin' bullshit here, pre-established relationships, just fluff obvi

Scout:

"Are you Babe Ruth? Because you're knocking me outta the park!"

"Scout, that was the dumbest thing i've ever heard."

"Why are ya blushin' then?"

"... shut up..."

"Love you too, doll!"

Soldier:

"You must be a rocket because you're blowing me away!"

"Did Sniper make you say that?"

"No! Demo did!"

"Oh, well that's very sweet of you either way!"

Spy:

"Is your name Bond because you've got a license to thrill!~"

"Very cute, mon ange, but I am a much better agent than that hack."

"Well damn, that's the last time I try to be romantic."

Engineer:

"Are you a gear because you've got all my wheels turnin'!"

"Wait, that's actually so cute!"

"'Course it is, darlin', it's about you!"

Medic:

"Are you a surgeon because you've taken my heart!"

"Alright, Who did you dissect this time?!"

"Nobody!... At least- uh, not yet..."

Demoman:

"Are ya a sword because ya look sharp!"

"Have you been drinking?"

"Yeah and I've got a glass righ' here for ya! Wanna join me?~"

Heavy:

"Are you a sandvich because I want to eat you up! Is a good one, no?"

"You have to spend less time with Scout, honey..."

"Awww, but I thought line was clever!"

Sniper:

"I must be a rifle, 'cause my sights are set on you."

"Feeling love-y today, are we?"

"What can I say, darling? I'm a romantic at heart."

Pyro:

"Murr hurr mmh huddah? 'Crpyha mhph srphha hrt!" (Are you a fire? 'Cause you're smoking hot!)

"Thank you, but, you're not actually gonna set me on fire, are you?"

"Nrht hrrdsh erh phrnt mur drh!" (Not unless you want me to!)

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 8)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut��� Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 📍 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 8 - Trust

Detective Brady is sharper than you initially thought, though Alastor is (seemingly) unfazed by the threat. While you both explore the idea of ‘home’ a familiar face shows up at your apartment.

「Warnings/Tags: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, Detective Brady exists a lot and maybe too much, fingering lol, phone calls, almost our first fight, stress, Disney mom rule, Ruth is pretty alright for now, Brenda」

forgot to tag you in the deleted scene for TRDFAHS

M👻D☠️N👽I😈

Your mother always said ‘Anger is your sword and shield’. So you postured yourself as someone mad. One hip out, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“Sir I don’t appreciate a man in a lady’s space.”

Brady bit his tongue, wanting to say something sharp.

 I don’t see any ladies here.

 He met the glares of the women behind you. “Ah, well-,”

“Do you really expect her to leave in her robe?”

“Aren’t you the man whose been stalking her?”

“Autumn I’ll go with you.”

“You want her to get into a strange man’s car?”

He felt like a fox about to be pecked to death by the hens.

“Now-! Alright I’m seeing I maybe,” he set your shoes down and slid past you and between the other performers, “got a little eager to speak to you.”

“Does Janet know you like to hang around burlesquers?” Someone said as his back was turned.

Like having ice water poured over his head, his shoulders tensed as did his tone. “I’ll be right out the door.”

You tried to hide the tremble in your hands, but failed. Ruth slid beside you, “What do you need?”

A phone. But the cord wouldn’t reach that far. You wanted to tell Alastor. You needed him to know that detective had you cornered and knew of his existence.

“Could you stay with me? I’m not going anywhere. But I’ll feel safer if I’m not talking to him alone. In case he tries to drag me out. He seems a little off his rocker.” You were genuinely scared he would grab you by the arm and pull you out of the theater if he didn’t think anyone would see. 

She patted your back, the others filing in to continue with their work of getting dressed and undressed. You took your time, trying to plan what you would say.

Brady felt an embarrassed blush take hold as the women moved past him with scowls and tsks. He could feel a little bit of his sanity slip back now that you were in front of him. 

“I have some questions about Tommy. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. We can head down now.”

Oddly, your mother also taught you, ‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’ 

She didn’t always make a lot of sense, contradicting herself daily. 

Time to use the tried and true tactic, “I am sorry, detective. I had some trouble recently and have been keeping to myself… going home as soon as possible. Just trying to keep my nose clean. So to speak.”

Brady watched you look up at him with a face his daughter often gave him when she was in trouble. But you weren’t a child and you surely weren’t his daughter. “That’s no excuse to dodge me.”

Your turn to bite your tongue, “Of course, sir.”

Ruth was… confused. She’d never seen you so obedient. You had more venom in your voice after taking a hit from Tommy knowing a third could be close behind. Why were you being so small?

“Are you ready to go?” He fished in his pocket for his car door keys. 

Ruth felt the need to interject, “She’s not going anywhere.”

Perfect.

You nodded, “I won’t be out at night, sir. You know better than most about the dangers.” Your dangers. Your darling Alastor.

“No, no no,” an unhinged chuckle from the fraying detective, “You’re not slipping away again. I have my car, I’ll take you there and bring you home.”

Ruth looked to you, then back to the detective, “Is she under arrest?”

Brady rolled his eyes, “Of course not.”

“Then? What gives you the right?”

Technically, nothing. He didn’t need to talk to you. His lead still stood. But maybe you’d slip and say something to expedite his search for the radio man. Maybe this would only end with Tommy. But he felt something tickling the back of his skull. An urge to not stop pushing.

“I’ll meet you at the station tomorrow morning. Is it the address on the card you gave me?” Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. You just needed him gone so you could call Alastor. 

He was shaking his notebook, key looped onto his finger. A nervous habit. “You still have my card?”

A smile, “Of course. In case any news came up. I’d have called but I didn’t realize you were so worked up.”

He scoffed. He wasn’t worked up. He was just annoyed. Maybe a little rougher in demeanor than usual but whose fault was that?

“If you don’t turn up tomorrow-,”

Ruth, taller than most women and some men and wide at the shoulders, leaned in.

Brady’s eyeline adjusted from yours to Ruth’s. Skye Scraper wasn’t just a pun, it was a cruel nickname she took ownership of. “Finish that sentence.”

The conversation ended there, Brady leaving with a huff.

You’d memorized the number the night Alastor gave it to you, too scared to write it down. He warned you though he wouldn’t be the one to answer.

“Is Alastor still there?” You tried to smile so you sounded less panicked. Ruth mouthed his name and pretended to swoon as you held the phone close to your ear. 

“Uhh depends, who is this?” Brenda answered, a voice you’d never heard but a woman Alastor had primed you for. 

“….”, but why hadn’t you thought through this part, what name was safe? Which was recognizable? You didn’t like the idea of this woman knowing your name. “Tell him it’s Autumn.”

“….” 

You laughed at Ruth, waiting still for a reply from Brenda, “Hello?”

“Is this a crank? Autumn like the season? I-,” a commotion, “Hey there! No. I don’t know. Well it’s past hours anywa-.”

Alastor was lying across Brenda’s desk to reach the phone, having wrestled it from the woman’s grip, “I’m here. What’s wrong? I was about to leave.”

“I’ll walk home tonight.” It hurt, physically hurt, to say it.

Alastor tried to keep his face neutral, “Oh.” Nervous fingers twirling the cord, “One second.” 

Harsh whispers, some clicks, and he was back, “I’m in my office. What happened?”

“Yeah Ruth is with me. It’s okay. I’ll call you like normal tomorrow?” 

“Should I swing by your apartment?” He considered doing it regardless of your answer.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t recommend it. I’ll be heading to the police station early tomorrow so I’ll be asleep as soon as I’m flat.” Putting your hand over the receiver, you spoke to Ruth, “Thank you, we got it figured out.”

His heart sank to his stomach, “Did he finally manage to catch you?”

“Yeah. Or—-,” your voice cracked a little, the fear rolling in as soon as Ruth walked away, “Yeah.”

“I’m coming over to the theater.”

Cupping the phone you curved your shoulders in and turned away from the staff milling about, “Don’t, that’s worse.” Tears stung your eyes. You felt like you’d failed him. You had somehow, hadn’t you? The loose thread Brady could grab ahold of was you.

“If you can’t come to the alley I’ll leave after a couple minutes. But I’ll be there in twenty, same time as our normal pick up.”

“Alastor, that’s reckless.”

“Please, dear, I don’t want our first fight to be over my work line.” A calming breath, “You don’t have to meet me, but I’ll be there. Just five minutes, then I’ll be off.”

You decided the safest thing to do was to wait in the alley. If you saw any signs of Brady or anyone coming out, you’d go back inside and just miss the meeting. But the idea of Alastor being just beyond the wall, waiting all alone, was too much.

But how much harder would it be if the wall was of the prison? Or worse, dense earth under your feet? That’s what Brady was wanting. 

You hadn’t realized you’d been chewing your nails until his car turned down the alley from the back and you tore off much of the length of your thumbnail.

Your arms were thrown around him before he was fully out of the car, “Alastor, he knows I have a guy. He wanted me to go down right now but I managed to push it to tomorrow.” Alastor tried to decipher the words as you spoke them into his vest, “What do I do?”

Normally you’d have your own plans in mind but this was too big, this was capable of hurting him more than anyone else. 

He smelled like ink and smoke, a scent you inhaled as you tried to calm your breath.

A large hand patted your head, “Okay. You go tomorrow. It’ll be fine. Don’t stress.” Pulling you off he placed chaste kisses across your face. “Think about what you want to say to him and we can talk it out in the morning. Everything is fine.”

The reality of you standing in a dirty alley crying into the arms of a murderer set in. Then the little detail you were both killers creeped over your chest and took hold of your throat.

He was impressed at the strength of your hands as you gripped at his clothes. Leaning against the car, he offered you his most charming smile.

“Deep breaths, dear. Do I look scared?”

He didn’t. He looked like a magazine ad for French cologne or razor blades that left the softest skin. 

“No.” You shook your head.

“No.” He nodded. “It’ll be okay. If you don’t go, he will hound you worse. If you do go, maybe he’ll realize he’s got a handful of nothing.”

His smile blinded you. Bright grin as he rested against his car, arms open. 

“Do you really think so? A handful of nothing?”

“Did he say my name?”

“No.”

“Did he–” he elongated the word, lips pursed as he searched the sky for his next words, “have Tommy’s body?”

You laughed, morbid but preposterous, “I didn’t pat him down. Coulda.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers, “We’ll have to just assume he didn’t.” A moment of tension. The act of joking barely traversing the space between your bodies let alone reaching the stress under your skin. His hands came to your shoulders; firm, secure. “Did you want to have that fight now? About me coming over here.”

You rolled your eyes, obviously not. “Ala-,” you started and stopped.

“I’ll admit I’m being reckless but I think we can both agree my way is more fun.” Smile sliding into a smirk, he cocked his head and lowered it to get back into your line of sight. When you stuck your tongue out he took a deep breath in, relief. “Are you sure I can’t take you home?”

To which home, you wondered. He used the word so casually and interchangeably…

Face close to yours. Eyes solely on you. Perhaps the stage wasn’t as necessary as you’d once thought. Lips on lips, the feeling of his smile spreading as he returned the kiss. A second of panic as you realized you couldn’t see or hear or sense what else was happening anymore in the alley. Brady could have had you in handcuffs and you wouldn’t be the wiser. Not as long as Alastor’s mouth was moving over yours.

“I’ll call in the morning.” He said into your exhale.

You hadn’t opened your eyes yet. Not ready to return to earth. A pout from you. A chuckle from him. “I’ll be waiting,” You finally said. 

While you did your waiting, shuffling around the theater and later tossing around in bed, Alastor fell into a different kind of purgatory.

One he hadn’t realized he’d made for himself until you weren’t there. 

The house was quiet, almost eerie. Even with music on he found himself nearly uncomfortable. He shifted several times in his chair while reading, not finding any way to settle in. 

His bed was lopsided. Suddenly one side was too light. Multiple times his hand slid under the sheets in search of you out of habit. 

What a terrible feeling; to want someone. To know you could have them but they just… weren’t there.

It didn't make any sense. He knew he’d see you soon, in less than a day's time even. He typically enjoyed his home and its silence. Being alone was predictable and therefore comforting. Well, it had been. Before you. 

The feeling in his chest, akin to a magnet tugging through his sternum toward a distant partner, didn’t abate.

Only when he heard your voice again over the phone did he find a sliver of peace.

“I’ve decided I’ll deny I have a guy. And, I’ll never tell him about you. It’s safer if he never connects us.”

Alastor was listening, honestly, but he wasn’t really processing. His mind was worried about something else. The detective genuinely didn’t bother him but he had to agree, “I suppose that’s best. As long as we can manage it, to not let him know we’re together.”

Together.

You were together with him. An item. How spectacular you must be to be a part of anything with him.

But for how long? With a certain detective breathing down your neck…, “I’m scared. Actually.”

You could hear the smile in Alastor’s breath, it was odd but eased you. 

“He will never have enough to convict us. He’ll drive himself crazy trying. Trust me.” He soothed. 

Did you have any choice? “Okay. You’re right. I trust you.” Unequivocally so. 

He cleared his throat, “Sorry to change the subject…”

“Please.”

“I want you to come over again tonight. What do you think?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, don’t even need to ask. I’ll always say yes.” All you needed to do was get through Brady and you’d be home.

But for Alastor, well, he wasn’t done asking the question. A moment of panic from a place unrecognized in his brain, fear of losing himself entirely. But what good was a safe harbor if he never ventured out to sea? That’s just a restraint then, isn’t it? 

Maybe you held a place for him even richer in its comforts than his solitude.

So he let himself drift away from familiar shores, no sails and no compass, “I think it’d be smart to bring over a couple sets of clothes. I can keep them washed and always here for you. Would that be alright?” He had wanted to suggest it while together, but Brady was ruining more than his sleep.

Oh.

The same silence from when he first extended the invitation, the deja vu not lost on you. You struggled to decipher the second meaning you were sure was there. Maybe he didn't know what he had asked. 

“I know it’s boring out in the boonies but, you’re welcome to just stay over while I go to work. I can come back and get you for rehearsals… I’ll enjoy the clubs or come back and make something for a late dinner for us, and bring you home when you’re done.”

He said it. He hadn’t really meant to, so he felt the need to clarify, but you also needed him to clarify just as quickly, “I -,”

“Did you me-?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“No I interrupted you-,”

“Not at all pl-,”

“Alastor for the love of God please don’t make me keep talking right now.” You lightly knocked your head with the phone a few times. Your heart was gasping for an ounce of understanding.

He chuckled, glad you were still very much yourself, “I meant, take you home as in, away from work. So, here. Or, there, if you’d prefer.” His face scrunched up, this wasn’t a conversation he had any practice in, “Anywhere really. I’ll drive you anywhere.”

“Alabama?”

He looked at the phone as if you were in it. Alabama? 

“Like— the first time you asked me over.” You added quickly. A terrible joke, a bad callback that made it painfully obvious you committed everything he said to memory.

Alastor rested his cheek on the dining table, laughing into the wood before bringing the receiver back. You always offered him an out of uncomfortable situations, “Well the offer still stands. I'd be willing to even venture at least halfway across Texas.” 

“The best half of Texas is on our side so that’s a generous offer. But, given our work schedules, I think your house would be much better. Time wise.” 

He let his eyes close as he felt the coldness of the wood, “Is that a yes then? To bringing over a couple of items… for ease.” Was it a mistake? Would he regret it? 

You were worth regrets. He had decided. He wanted you to say yes.

The weight of what he was asking wasn’t lost on you an ounce. You could see your window from the phone booth. You took great pride in your little apartment. It was your space and no one else’s. As a child you struggled to have your own anything, so you valued your home. 

But could you call any place so far from Alastor a home?

It’s just a few items. You weren’t giving up your lease. It’s a baby step. One you could easily walk back if you needed to later. It’s not like you hadn’t spent every night possible already since that first offer.

“Yes.” 

It was a plan that took your mind off cops. Have your interrogation, go home, then go home for a relaxing evening of jazz and drink.

The levity ended though the second you hung up the receiver. An obstacle between you and him still stood. You pulled out your bag but couldn’t find the will to pack it. Your hands were too busy as you chewed on your thumbnail again.

Brady noticed the uneven length when you sat down and set your hands on the table.

“Surprised you showed.” He opened his notebook and readied his pencil. “First things first, what is your legal name?”

A chill. You’d gotten your warning the night before to prepare something to say but ignored it. Your mind was flipping through words and images. Piercing all of it were the white reflective eyes of the deer along the road. You decided to lean into what you knew. 

“Autumn.”

“Really? Never heard the name Autumn before.”

“Me either. Made for an easy stage name.”

“I’ll need to see your birth records, just to be sure.”

You sucked your teeth. “Ah, unfortunately…all that stuff was left behind with my mom when I moved.”

“And where can I find her?

“Corner of North Villere street and Piety.”

“And your address?”

You paused. His eyes rose and met yours. The radiant aqua from the cafe morning was now an icy color. “I don’t give my address out. You know where I work.”

“But you’re fine giving me your mother’s address? That’s cold.”

“Not as cold as she is, I’m sure of that.”

“Fine, I’ll find it in the census records.” He flipped the page, “Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged.” He tapped his notepad on the table like it was the starting bell of a fight.

You wished Alastor was with you, but also wished he would never enter that station. “Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he,” you remembered the man and his ugly tie, “introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently.”

“And who was that?”

You searched your memory, “S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening.”

Brady nodded, “And then he knocked you around?”

You winced without meaning too, “Yeah. Got me good.”

Brady waited for you to continue talking, but you had learned this game. People know silence is uncomfortable and will use that against you. So you let the silence stay. Let the awkward tension build. You had limited time, he knew that.

He caved first. “And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that.”

Lying was second nature to you. You had killed for Alastor. You could do this. Deep breaths, slink into yourself. You imagined Alastor choked on the park grounds, wet and unmoving. Imagined him cold to the touch.

“Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection.” Tears welled. Bloody hands and a large rock. “But as soon as he got his money he left.” 

Brady was writing, “And the man? What was his name.”

“Something foreign. Kerr-something. Or Car?”

He looked up slightly, “You’re pretty terrible at names.”

You wiped away your tears, “I had more pressing concerns at the time than trying to remember that man’s name. I was hoping I’d never need to know it.”

Brady hummed, “Yeah. And what did your beau think of this?”

Did you hide it? The flash of panic that rolled under the flesh of your face, “If I had a beau Tommy wouldn’t have made me do that. He said that himself.”

“Too bad he’s not here to confirm.”

“If he was we wouldn’t be having this conversation, detective.”

“Touché. Clever little lady aren’t you?”

Fuck.

You shifted slightly in your seat, looking downward in an attempt at being bashful. “That’s kind to say.”

“So why did,” he flipped through his book, “Beth say you stopped singin’ on Sundays cuz of your radio boyfriend?”

“Ah,” a weak laugh to hide the way your breath got sucked in with panic. The words ‘radio boyfriend’ punched the air from your lungs. “You must mean the rake. Took me for a ride at a club corner and sent me off in a cab to never see me again. Didn’t know he was in radio though.” 

“Well now you’re lying and I don’t appreciate it one ounce ma’am.“

“What?”

“Beth says he’s been coming to your shows for nearly half a year.”

No acting necessary for this part. “What are you talking about? I met him at a club. We arranged a date and he picked me up at—“

“Beth’s dive.”

“…. Yeah. Well.” He’d been there before? So often? And you never noticed…, “That’s news to me, that he had been there for so long, it’s got its regulars though so...” You shifted again, this time with a clear uncomfortable edge. 

“He stopped coming when you stopped singing.”

“….guess he got what he wanted then. A fun time in the swing hall bathroom.”  Anger. Unreal and unfounded. Trying your best to hide how confused you were.

“Sounds like a stalker, miss. Maybe one who woulda been quite unhappy to hear you were selli-,”

You cut him off, eyes snapping up to meet his, “I really recommend you reconsider your wording.”

Brady laughed with a huff, “A man dizzy with a dame can do some funny stuff. Especially if he hears she’s in a pickle.”

“Well, no knight coming to rescue me. I’ve sworn off men. It’s why I’ve been leaving work early. Getting home, reading, sleeping. He really did a number on my heart and my pride as a woman.”

Brady’s pencil stopped moving. 

“And his name?”

You’d never fucking say it. He could walk in on you moaning ‘Alastor’ and you’d still act like you’d never heard that string of syllables in your life. 

“John.”

Brady laughed and tossed the pencil to the table, “Let me guess, last name Doe?”

You shrugged, “We weren’t on a full name basis. He was handsome, he took me out, we fucked, I never saw him again” You delighted in the way his face screwed up at your unladylike language. 

“So, someone in radio named John. You know I’m going to be at every broadcaster talking to every John, right?” The nervous shaking of his notebook again. 

“When you find him let me know.”

“Oh I will.” He said it so quickly, so sharply you could feel it cut at your cheek as the words flew past you.

You pulled your hands into your lap, eyes firmly locked on Brady’s. “You look tired, sir. I hope my answers will help you. So you can rest.”

“I am tired. Of people jerking me around. You won’t give me your address, you don’t remember anyone’s name, not even your own, and you deny having a man I know you have.”

If you screamed would he have you committed? “I’m terribly sorry,” you leaned over the table and pulled a piece of fuzz off his shoulder, “my friend gave you inaccurate and dated information. I am genuinely trying to help as much as I can.”

Upon closer inspection, his eyes were more than just blue. They were dark and light, deep and shallow. Blue so far down it was nearly black. A blue so bright it was a cousin of white. Eyes you were sure would haunt you. 

“Help me then, Autumn.” Your brows rose at the request. He leaned back and away from you, “Just tell me what happened to Tommy. What your guy did. If he was trying to protect your name then we could find a sympathetic jury.”

Sympathy? Your smile was too wide, stare gone too soft. What sympathy did he have or would anyone have for you? Did he think you wanted the tender hearts of strangers? “Tommy ran off with a bag of money. He was a good man with a bad habit. That’s all I know. I have no partner, man or otherwise.”

A standstill. 

Brady felt a twitch in his hands he wasn’t used to. An itch to move. Unlike him, and a little frightening. 

Maybe he had been running himself ragged. 

Back sliding down slightly in his chair, he laced his fingers and rested them in his lap, “You know I’m gonna find out what happened, right?” His tone had shifted to something serious and calm. He said it like he was telling you a secret. Low but firm. Steady and sure. 

Those eyes. No, worse. What was behind them. You could see it clearly; unflappable determination. He absolutely would. 

“I trust you will.” A moment of silence again as you both felt the conversation die. As you stood, Brady did too.

“I wasn’t bluffing about him going to Beth’s for more than half a year now. I don’t know how you think this is gonna end but it won’t end pretty. Whether it was just your boss or all the others on my desk, end it with him and help us bring Tommy home to his mother.”

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder, “I don’t know how many time-,”

“Autumn. I’ve seen enough make up covered bruises to clock em from across the room. That’s the act of a possessive, immature man. Just think about what I said,” You opened the door in an effort to keep your hands from shooting to your neck. “There’s no white picket fence or church bells for you two. He’s a bad man. I think he may even be an evil man. You’re gonna end up hurt, or dead.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest but you managed to stifle it. With an honest smile you replied, “We’re all gonna end up dead someday, Detective. I’ll call if I have any news. Thanks for your concern and … evident hard work.” You offered a little nod of your head before leaving the room and the station as quickly as you could without running. 

When he set down his notebook after returning to his desk, he couldn’t sit. Energy was buzzing in his limbs. He needed to run or swing or pace.

His desk neighbor watched him immediately pick up the notebook again and grab his hat. A few other men shared a glance as Brady rushed out, an unsettling feeling passed among them. 

“He’s still on that case?” One asked quietly, going back to his papers.

“Not officially….” Answered Freeman, standing at the window and watching Brady flag down a taxi.

“North Villere street and Piety, please.” He told the driver, not noticing his friend in the window.

It wasn’t near the station, nor the dance scene. He wondered if your mother would be any more amiable. What kind of woman would raise such a creature as you?

When the car slowed, Brady clicked back into his surroundings. He looked through every window hoping to see something different.

After a long pause the cabbie asked, “Ya gonna get out?”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the seat. “No. Take me back to the station.”

His blood pressure rose so quickly he was sure he would black out as the cab turned around and drove back past the sign; Vincent DePaul cemetery.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor kissed away the worries when he took your bag from you. Every detail of the interview was just hummed away. “Even if he finds me, without a body he has no case.” He reminded you like it was nothing short of fact.

“What if he gets one?”

“Not one of mine, I can assure you. He’d sooner need to kill someone himself and call it my fault.” A pause, was that something the detective would do? He shook off the thought. 

He was so confident that even though you knew it was just skin deep it still gave you a sense of calm. The bodies, where they went after he was done with them in the greenhouse, was the last step he hadn’t shared with you.

There was one thing you didn’t mention about the interrogation. 

You waited until you were a few drinks in, Alastor’s bowtie off and shirt unbuttoned several buttons before bringing it up. Uncharacteristically nervous about how he’d react when you broached the topic, you needed several deep breaths to get up your courage. Normally the idea of offending a man with an honest question wouldn’t ruffle you a bit, but once again there was nothing normal about you and Alastor. He made you so unlike yourself but not necessarily worse. Perhaps some consideration of other’s reactions wasn’t a bad thing. 

“This is awkward to ask.” It was dark already, the sun setting earlier and earlier. The buzz of the kitchen light could be heard through the screen door, the light just enough to let you see each other's features clearly. Leaning back on both hands for support, your legs rested in an unladylike spread down the porch stairs. No shoes. No girdle. No pretense.

Would he be mad? Or maybe offended?

“Brady said you had been going to my Sunday shows for awhile. Months before we actually met. Did you really meet me by coincidence?”

“Or was I stalking you as my next victim?” His head fell to the side, eyes closed and smile wide. “I saw you there, yes. And though you weren’t the best singer, I did enjoy your shows.”

You tried to see him without directly turning your head. 

“But yes, it was a coincidence. I had noticed that brute of a man a couple weeks in a row, staring at you so intensely. Word got around he had made a scene some time ago with a dancer.” 

You listened like someone was telling you your own story. It was an odd feeling, hearing someone recount your days from a different perspective. An unknown one. 

“I was surprised to see you at the theater when I followed him there. Even more so to see you in the alleyway.”

If he had said it wasn’t a coincidence, you genuinely didn’t know what you’d have done. You’d be scared and angry. Another predator lurking just past the tree lines.

Your relief must have been visible. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” Alastor asked, leaning over and letting his shoulder bump into yours. He was still riding the high of putting away your belongings in his closet and drawers. 

“Yeah. He gives me a bad feeling. Like…a brick wall barreling toward me.” You kicked a leaf off the steps, “Or like, when you see a big dark cloud on the horizon. Can’t do anything but wait and hunker down.”

How do you wait out a storm so set on burying you?

“Dear,” his hands rose and palms flipped up in a way that said he wasn’t hiding anything, “We get hurricanes annually. We’ve survived every one thus far. He’s just a drip. A sprinkle of a man.”

People have drowned on land before. A sprinkle could lead to pneumonia and that could lead to a wooden box. 

He tried to change the topic, laughing about Brenda’s reaction to the call and making plans for an evening out when things settled down again. You listened, but it was your turn to be half there. 

You could barely muster concern when you realized you’d forgotten your makeup and hair wrap at home when you were preparing for bed. What you would give for going home barefaced with a ruined hairdo to be the biggest stress of your week. 

The distance in your stare was weighing down his joy, how could he relish in the newest addition to his home when you were so burdened? Even in the moonless night he could see the faintest light reflecting off your eyes as you stared at the ceiling. Did you even feel his stare? 

He couldn’t let Brady poison his bed, and the man was clearly there now. Chasing you in your mind still. 

“Could I offer you a distraction?” Alastor slipped up against you, hand finding your hip. He could see your smile forming. 

“I wouldn’t argue against a distraction…,” you’d beg for one if you didn’t want to feel any lower than you already did. 

“Perfect. This bed isn’t made for three, so let’s eject that little nag, dear.” His hands slipped down your legs, “I want to replace your thoughts with better ones.” He pulled you to him, your back pressed into his broad chest. The way his soft hands smoothed over your silk slip felt like foreplay, so smooth and slick. Frictionless and gentle. Those same hands ran down and between your legs, following the line of your thighs until they found your center. “It seems you forgot something else.” Two fingers caressed your lower lips, barely parting them, “Not that I’m complaining…,” his lips found the back of your neck as his fingers rubbed gently at your core. 

It took so very little to get your body on board, wet and relaxed for his practiced hand. Your own fingers coming down to rub at your clit quickly when you felt your pleasure winding up. 

He sighed directly into the shell of your ear, hands working in tandem with yours under the covers. His back pressed against you, hips rolling into your backside in time with his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about?” Barely above a whisper as he said it into your heated skin.

“Fingers.”

“Whose?” His voice was deeper than his usual speaking tone. A tenor that made you clench around him.

“Yours.”

You’d never been so satisfied with hands before. With breath. With the sounds of a man. Never saw stars while clothed and not under the lights of the stage. Warm and wet kisses to your neck as you came down from your high, you’d never considered sex could be more than a man fucking someone. Nor that a man could find pleasure so readily with his cock still in his pants. But the way he hummed and growled softly into your skin was proof of his good time. 

You’d learned a lot from those progressively chillier nights at Alastor’s over the first week of your constant cohabitation. How much you liked waking up with someone just a reach away. How Alastor woke slowly, incapable of coherent speech for at least the first twenty minutes of his day. He’d stare and smile as his eyes blinked out of sync, rolling back occasionally as he fought the urge to fall back into sleep. Hair disheveled and soft.

When the weekend came, Alastor offered again to take you out. A promise to take you somewhere no detectives would be hiding about. A week without a peep, you were sure he had followed up with your mother and was probably steaming to get at you. But, for some reason or another, he hadn’t appeared again in the crowd of your shows. 

A week of going into work unmade and unkempt, you finally gave in and asked to be taken to your apartment early Friday. You’d grab a few items you needed, take them to work, and be back home that night. 

Your eyes were on Alastor when his car pulled up to your building. When he kissed you, your hand scratched at the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck. Eyes closed, you could smell him and feel him so much clearer. Perhaps when you were old together you wouldn’t have to worry about your sight giving out, you thought. Because you’d always know it was him by the way his skin on yours lit you up. 

“Pack something you’d like to wear out tomorrow night.” He reminded you before you pulled yourself from the car and waved him off. You lingered for a moment as he drove away, wondering if maybe the storm had been pushed off course.

“Oooh, who is he?”

Whipping around, you saw a familiar face sitting on the stoop of your building. An unwelcome one, though. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mavis?” Your bag fell from your hands as the strength drained from your limbs.

She patted the dust off her dress before bouncing down the steps.  “The names Ephi now.” A half sister, though perhaps a quarter sister would be best to describe the often absentminded, when not literally absent, sibling. 

“That’s not a name that’s a fucking letter of the alphabet. Mama would smack the color of your cheeks if she heard you.” You were sure you’d not see her ever again, not after she ran off to head north before your mother passed. She scowled, arms crossed as you brushed past her. “I don’t have any money so you wasted a trip. See ya in another decade.”

Ephi grinned up at you as you climbed the stairs, “Looked like he had some money. Mr. Big Shot and his shiny bus.”

“Lotsa people have cars.” Your eyes landed on the suitcase poorly hidden behind the steps. Hand halting its search for the building key as you could feel the stare of your mother looking…down? A weight slipping over your shoulders like a man’s heavy winter coat.

“Well I don’t need money or cars. I need a place to crash.”

Your head fell. You could feel it coming. The gust of wind dragging the clouds slowly towards you. No, the storm wasn’t off course. It was just building momentum.

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[solanasreality]

†⠀⠀ㅤֺ⠀ INTRO 2 DESIRED REALITY : FOLK OF THE AIR .

﹒RIN ROSEMARIE RUTH — the youngest (foster) daughter of madoc is a human born amidst the enchanting land of the fae. despite her mortal origins, she has grown accustomed to the intricate politics and dangers of Faerie, where beauty often masks treachery as easily as a smile conceals fangs, and a single misstep can feel like slipping into quicksand.

﹒physical characteristics — a girl of striking beauty, though not in the delicate, crystalline beauty of the fae. her polished brown skin glows with a warmth that seems almost defiant, while wild, dark curls frame a heart-shaped face dusted with freckles. expressive eyes—deep pools of amber that hold secrets far beyond her years, seem to hold a captivating touch of mystery that draw the fae, somewhat daringly, closer. to mock or to adore? the answer isn’t always certain.

﹒her beauty is her weapon, her intelligence her armor. but beneath it all, a quiet ambition stirs— an unspoken longing for more than survival. she seeks something greater, something only the fae may never understand, and yet, none can resist the pull of what she offers.

── LIFE IN FAERIE .

﹒my mornings are usually a blur of routine— rising early, before the rest of the court has stirred, when the last traces of moonlight still lingers in the corner of my room to prepare for the day ahead. the fae are creatures of the night, only beginning to wake when the sun is low and the world seems coated in twilight. i’ve learned to dress quickly, the silks and leathers slipping over my skin without the hestitation of someone unused to the finer things. the fae, with all of their beauty, never tire from their endless grooming rituals, their vanity. the mirrors in the halls have caught me too often doing things out of my leisure, but today, it doesn’t seem like they would. i take my tray and swiftly make my way to the courts, where i can watch the twilight while eating.

﹒my breakfast is simple, though far from humble. a collection of impossible foods—exotic foods that don’t exist outside this world, pastries too perfect to touch, and drinks that could be sweet or bitter depending on how the wind blows. the tray i carry is laden with delicate pasteries, glistening with honey and dusted with powdered sugar, golden crusts soft to the touch and, surprisingly, lukewarm. there are bowls of fruit too—vibrant pomegranates and blood oranges. a sharp, fragrant tea steams beside it, the scent a strange blend of jasmine and something earthier, something ancient that lingers in the air long after the first sip.

﹒the fae court, though still sleepy, is never entirely still. as i sit, i can hear the rustling of distant chatter, the rustling of silks, the occasional click of a glass, as if they too are awaking, albeit slowly. it’s still quiet but there is an undercurrent of anticipation—a silent countdown for when the true business of the night begins. for now, i am at peace, watching the twilight stretch across the gardens outside.

﹒ the hours slip by as the court’s rhythm comes to life—slow at first, then gradually, like the slow unfurling of a flower. the fae are always meticulous in their rituals—visits to the mirror, exchanges of honeyed words, preparing for the coming hours. i’ve learned to ignore the whispers that follow me, the glances cast from behind half-hidden eyes. they don’t speak to me much, but they watch. their attention is a heavy thing. as the day—or rather, the night—progresses, i find myself moving from one gathering to the next, slipping through conversations, trailing my fingers along the stone walls that hum with secrets of their own. each word that passes through these halls could be a thread leading to something more—something darker, something useful.

﹒ by the time the ball begins, the court is alive with color and music. the grand hall opens, and with it, a river of guests pour in, their laughter like an eerie melody echoing off the walls. masks are donned, as is customary for the fae, and the atmosphere shifts into something tangible—a moment of stillness before the storm of social maneuvers begins. the music plays softly, rising in waves of lilting, haunting notes, as the fae drift into a slow waltz across the marble floors. there is always a certain grace in their movements, their bodies so fluid they seem to glide, floating more than walking. the masks they wear are carefully chosen, not just for beauty but for power—a symbol of what they wish to be seen as, a façade to hide their true selves.

﹒ i, too, put on a mask, though mine is less literal. my gown is a study in black lace and silver thread, catching the light of the chandeliers just enough to draw attention but not enough to linger. i slip through the crowd, unnoticed at first, moving like a shadow among shadows, listening more than speaking. conversations float past me like fleeting moments, and i am careful with my own words. each exchange is a delicate dance, and i never step too far. i let the music pull me deeper into the rhythm of the court, where the secrets are traded in the space between glances and soft words.

…

── MY SIGNIFICANT OTHER .

﹒JUDE GREENBRIAR — the youngest daughter of eldred greenbriar, jude is a fae born of bloodline and power. growing up in the shadow of tragedy and neglect, she hides a ruthless ambition behind a polished, cruel exterior. often overlooked by the court, jude is patient, calculating, and unshakably determined to seize the power she believes is hers to claim.

﹒physical characteristics — striking, though not in the ethereal, untouchable way of most fae. her beauty is sharp, almost dangerous, with high cheekbones and strong, soft features that give her an air of authority, even when she’s lounging in apparent indifference. her dark hair falls in waves, often loosely braided or left to cascade over her shoulders, framing her piercing golden eyes—the kind that seem to catch and hold the light like molten metal.

TROPES ✹ rin & jude — enemies to lovers, in COMPLETE denial, royalty meets warrior, oblivious to love, forbidden love

(yes, i made jude take cardan’s place in the book cause i needed a wlw romance okay)