#and they find out shes a little more ruthless than she pretends to be too

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

we have MISSED OUT on 13 being jealous oh my god 12 is SO petty imagine IMAGINE if someone had shown some interest in yaz. i dont even know if yaz would notice but the DOCTOR oh my GOD she’d be INSUFFERABLE

bonus points for ryan totally noticing and repeatedly trying to catch yaz’s eye like ??!?!!!! youre seeing this?? are you seeing this yaz good for you good for you

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 2

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: M (corpses, harvesting violence) will be E in later chapters ❤️

a/n: thank you endlessly to @the-scandalorian who lent me her big beautiful beta brain, to @bageldaddy who made me blush with pride and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed my Ezra nerves by checking this dialogue like the queen she is ❤️

Series Masterlist

—

You know he’s waiting for you to speak, but you…can’t.

He takes his helmet off, and you can see his features more clearly. His skin has a ruddy look to it, like it’s been days since he’s last bathed or eaten well, or gotten a decent sleep. He looks older, more weary without the reflective dome hiding the finer lines of his tired features – but still, no less intimidating. 

He looks rougher, his sharp eyes darker and more assessing. 

Your eyes make a slow circuit between his hand, which still loosely holds a weapon, and his dead partner. 

There is no deal to be made here. Not for you, and you know it. 

“Kevva waits, girl.” The sharp snap of his words brings your attention back to his face. He looks impatient. “You ready to talk about that deal?”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, trying hard to fight against the sinking feeling in your chest. “What do you want.” 

It comes out more of a defeated statement than a question, and he studies you for a moment. 

“To be perfectly candid, I am in need of transit.”

You stare at him blankly, and he sighs with impatience. 

“I want your ship,” he states plainly. “However, I am not suggesting to leave you stranded if that’s what you’re thinking. As I find myself lacking….” He glances over at his dead partner for a moment. “I am generously proposing we join forces. Protection, for transport.”

“Protection?” you spit. “You gonna protect me as a partner like you did him?”

“He needed no protection, I can assure you that,” he huffs wryly. “But you?” He pauses in his speech, narrowing his gaze. “What is your plan here, anyway?”

Trying to appear like you have one, you steady your voice. “I’m here to dig.”

He laughs as if your statement is absurd. “I find myself disinclined to believe that, but let’s pretend for a moment that is the case. You dig. What then?”

“I’ll repair my ship and be on my way. Home, with something to sell when I get back.”

“And who is going to help you repair your ship?” he mocks. “You know how to do that too?” His eyes drift to your father’s lifeless form. “Seems your partner is out of commission. I think perhaps he was the mechanic?”

“He wasn’t my partner, I told you.” The corner he’s got you backed in displays plainly on your face. You shift your jaw, looking away. “I’ll find someone to help me. Someone –”

“A girl like you?” he interrupts, raising his eyebrows. “You wander into a camp of fringely mercs, raw, at the end of their tour, what happens? You appeal to their sympathies?” He shakes his head. “They have none. They are ruthless profiteers. You must have something to offer or they will find something to take from you.”

The emphasis he puts on the last few words makes his implication clear, and panic creeps into your limbs. 

“We’re in the same trough, you and I. Can’t say I was pleased to find your mare all black and cockways as she was supposed to be my redemption as well,” he muses, looking around at the poor state of the pod. “But I know how to fix her up. I can help you.”

He seems sincere enough in his offer, but everything he’s done thus far shows you his supposed sincerity means absolutely nothing. 

“I want someone else.” A childish statement, but the truth.

“Well I want a lot of things too, little bird.” He looks almost regretful for a moment, before leveling you with his gaze. ”Starting with your ship.”

Your mind still stuck on what he said about the other mercs on this planet, you wonder what’s stopping him from doing the same. 

“They will find something to take from you.”

Will he?

You could try to go it alone, but your first fucking hour alone on this planet has been nightmare enough to dissuade you from that course of action. If he doesn’t kill you to get this ship, the next person will. If he found you, others will, too. 

You think, buying yourself some time. 

“It’s clear you don’t belong here, little bird. I’m your safest route home,” he argues. “That is the goal, right?”

You bring your eyes back to him, wary and he seems to recognize something in your expression. When he slowly steps forward like he’s approaching a wild animal, you scoot back. 

“Hey,” his tone softens. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re no threat to me, a fragile little thing like you. Anyone else would have killed you outright by now, I promise you that. You have a functioning ship – a rarity in these parts. I can help you protect it.”

“Only because you want to use it,” you sneer, and the edge of his lips lift. 

“Of course,” he replies. “I’m not foolish enough to offer my services for nothing. I promise you no harm if you promise me the same.”

“You killed your partner. Just now, right in front of me. What’s stopping you from doing the same to me?”

“I could have killed you a thousand different ways by now.” His voice slips into something lower, menacing yet truthful. “Like I said, you’re no threat to me. Besides, I think your ship would be better piloted by two, am I right?”

Seeing no way out, you deflate. 

And nod. 

“I need to hear you say it, little bird,” he tilts his head with a light scold. 

You glare up at him. “Yes. I accept.”

“Excellent!” he says, clapping his hands together, the sound making you jump. “First things first. Let’s move these bodies.”

The bodies.

Forgetting all about your new deal with a murderer, your stomach drops at the reminder of moving your dad’s body. 

“What’s your name, by the way?” The stranger grunts with exertion, lifting his partner’s feet to drag his body into a prone position. Crouching, he begins to pat the dead man’s pockets down. 

He’s callous about it, perfunctory. Not gentle in the slightest which makes sense since the man is dead, but still, there is something about the deft way he’s going through everything he had on him that makes it known that this is not the first time he’s done this. Not by a long shot. You wonder if it’s just from his experience on this planet, or an indicator of something larger.

“Mine’s Ezra, if you were wondering.” He gives a teasing glance, making note of your rudeness. 

When you don’t offer it, he merely shrugs. “S’okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I understand your apprehension. But I’ll have to call you something.” He seems to ponder for a moment, placing loose items he’s deemed useful in a pile by the man’s hip. “Since you came down from out of the sky, I would say “Birdie” is a suitable choice.”

You pull a face he doesn’t see, and then he’s moving the belongings to the side, making a clear path to the door of the pod. When his eyes shift to rest on your dad’s body, a sudden urge flares within you to stop him.

“He got anything useful on him?” Ezra’s chin jerks towards it. 

On instinct, you follow his gaze, immediately regretting it. You turn away in revulsion, the pooled blood a dark, congealed mass that sticks in your vision. Closing your eyes, you shake your head with a tight movement. “I don’t think he had anything on him besides his, uh…drops. Everything else is here in the pod.”

If he wonders what you mean by “drops,” he doesn’t ask. Instead, he approaches the body and glancing back, frowns at your hesitant expression.

“Look. You don’t—” he sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice lowers. “I’ll need your help with the big guy, but I can do this one by myself.”

“No,” you protest, forcing yourself to move forward. You can still taste bile, sharp on your tongue. “I should be the one—”

He puts his hand on your arm, shaking his head. “No,” he says kindly, but firm. “You shouldn’t be. A girl shouldn’t have to put her own father in the ground.” He steps around you gently. “Tell you what. Why don’t you head outside and keep watch, little bird. Let me know if you see anyone coming. Make no mistake, there will be scavengers looking for the same opportunity I was, and we’ve got to protect our only means of escaping this planet.”

He gathers your helmet to place in your hands, checking your filters are connected and charged. 

In your hurry to get out of the pod and away from the body, you’re already sealing your helmet into place when he snatches the thrower off the floor.

“Hey,” he calls out sharply, just as you’re about to step out of the hatch. He thrusts the weapon towards you. “Don’t forget your thrower. Armed. Always armed here. Understood?” His gaze holds yours in weighted significance. 

You nod, taking it from his outstretched hand. “Okay.”

Opening the hatch, you step outside for the first time. 

Everything is green. The brush, the trees, the sky–all varying shades of the color. Dust floats through the air; aimless, toxic, suffocating. You wonder how long you would last if you took your helmet off. Studying the lush, towering trees, your eyes follow the paths of thick vines that both climb up the trunks and spill over the dark soil, coming to rest on the soft dirt that your boots sink into. You lift your foot and the imprint you leave behind is as clear as the two sets that lead from the edge of the forest to your pod. 

The footprints circle the pod, and your stomach lurches at the thought that they were circling without you even knowing. 

Resolutely keeping your back towards the ramp, you tighten your grip on your thrower and use the moment to take stock of your situation. Your father told you a couple of things about this planet: the air is toxic, the population is non-existent, and the main reason anyone comes is for the aurelac. An amber colored gem found within the bowels of pit sites, the price it can fetch is significant. His drops clutched tightly in his hand, he told you of a neglected site filled with treasure—a rumor, the Queen’s Lair–his eyes wild and clouded with liquid that made them shine with foolish hope. 

That’s it, though. No map left behind, no coordinates. No solid confirmation it even exists. He only brought you along because it would be dangerous to leave you completely orphaned for however long it took him, and to take advantage of your (limited) skills as a co-pilot. 

When you hear a heavy slide and a grunt behind you, you keep your eyes on the forest, scanning the trees. 

Nothing to offer the man who has offered you partnership, you wonder how long it’s going to take him to figure out you’re of no value. Completely useless, better off dead and out of the way. Your mind scrambles for leverage, and you’re still thinking when you feel a tap on the shoulder. 

Swinging around, you point your thrower – directly at Ezra’s chest. 

His hands fly up in surrender. 

“Steady now. It’s just me.”

He must have connected your comlinks because you can hear his words, low and slightly modulated through your helmet. Lowering your weapon and assuming he’s going to take it from you, you offer it up, but he waves it away, resting his hand on a pistol strapped to his hip. 

“Good to see you’re quick on the draw,” he smirks. He jerks his head towards the pod. “I need your help with the other one now.”

You glance over his shoulder towards the woods, trying to find a sign of your father’s body and his voice snaps your attention back to him. 

“Hey. Don’t…” he pauses. “Don’t. Say your goodbyes to the Green, girl, but don’t go lookin’. You don’t need to see that anymore.”

Surprised by the consideration in his statement, you follow him up the ramp. Inside the pod, he lifts under his former partner's arms. 

“Grab the feet – go ahead and push, while I pull.”

It takes ages getting the massive, limp body down and out, but eventually it’s rolled down the ramp with a thud. Ezra’s breathing sounds loud, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. 

“What you want to do is cover the body with rocks. Try to hide it, so as to not attract any attention. The locals, they –” he grunts, dragging the man towards the brush, “—they leave bodies out in the open, as part of their ritual to honor the memory but I think it’s rather–” he shoves the man down a slope, letting gravity do the work for him, “uncouth.”

Slowly descending down the slant of dirt, you follow behind him. Not used to an explanation following orders, you listen closely to his words. He gives you more context for his decisions than your father ever did, and you pocket every piece of information, eager for it all. Anything to help your survival in this place. 

With both your heads bent in task, he breaks the silence after a few moments. “What was your father here to harvest?”

Lifting a rock from the ground, you toss it in the general direction of the body. “Gems.”

Ezra huffs a laugh. “Most gems are long gone. Discovered and harvested during the rush.” He looks over at you from the corner of his eye. “Got any information on where he was hoping to find unfound riches?”

“If most gems have been harvested, what are you doing here?”

He laughs in delight. “Rapport, how I’ve missed it.”

You take note of the way he side steps your question. “He didn’t tell me.”

“What did he tell you about this place?”

Easy to talk to, charming and affable, you can see how easily he would wheedle information out of others. Unsure how much you should really be confiding in him, you decide less is better for now. 

“He didn’t tell me anything. Just that we were going to come here to dig – or rather, he was.”

“Nothing?” he asks, surprised. “He led you here, unprepared?”

You say nothing, and his expression turns more solemn. He shakes his head. “Foolish, keeping you in the dark like that. My own partner was more of a utility. Seems like your father treated you the same way.”

His statement hurts, though you try not to let it show. You shrug instead, watching your steps as you pick through the rocks. 

He gives you time to reply, and when you offer nothing up, he continues. “Did you ever want to learn how to dig? Harvest gems?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been asked that question, and when you look up at him to find him looking at the ground, you can hear the smile he has on his face through the commlink when you don’t answer. He continues, “I stumped you, didn’t I.”

“I don’t…” you flounder. You’ve always had a distaste for the profession, spending your life around the seedy people who do it. However, it seems rude to say that outright to his face. “I’ve never really thought about it. It would be useful to learn, I guess.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Depends on what you want from this life. It’s a big world out there, Birdie. If you could have your pick, what would you do?”

“Go home.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and though it’s such a small thing to ask in such an endless universe, he just nods like he understands. 

 –

The bodies taken care of, he leads you back to the pod and tells you to wait there for him. He’s got a camp close by – a tent, filled with his belongings – and while he’s gone collecting it, you clean the disorganized mess inside the pod. 

Go home. You don’t even know why you said that, there isn’t much of a home to go home to. This pod has been more of a home than anything else has; the only constant in your transient life. What you meant was some place that felt like a home. A comforting place, where you felt safe and wanted and cared for. The place itself didn’t really matter, more the feeling it represented. You had yet to find it, but you knew it wasn’t here. 

The metal cabinets that line the walls had burst open upon impact, so you take your time methodically putting everything right. Medical supplies, vac packs of food, your father’s harvesting tools. His case, with his initials stamped on it. His supply of chemicals, his various scalpels unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. You snap them carefully back into their case, and put them away. 

Then your things: your bedding, your sparse collection of clothing, your journal. Wrapping the bound book in a shirt, you tuck it into your pillowcase, hiding it. Your headphones appear undamaged, and you test them with a couple of the cassettes that lay scattered across the floor. The music flows through them uninterrupted, and for the first time today, you feel a small sliver of relief. 

You find his drops underneath his chair. 

The tiny brown vial with the stopper you’ve seen him hover above his eye a million times, you aren’t ready for the resentment and rage you feel as you hold it in your palm. You can’t remember a time when your father didn’t have them on him. Slices of time flash through your mind: the sight of his back as he left you for days on end, the slow, syrupy drag of his words when he mumbled after putting the drops in, the feverish need in his eyes as he slipped the bottle from his pocket to calm the trembling in his hands – right before an emergency sensor went off in the pod and everything went to hell. 

The urge to crush it underneath your boot or take it outside and smash it against a tree flares bright, and a scream builds at the base of your throat. 

In your mind, you let it out. In real life, you tuck the bottle into a cabinet and shut the door. 

A signal agreed upon when he left, you know Ezra is back when he knocks rhythmically before entering. Busy scrubbing the dash clean, you’re going over the blood spots for the third time. You can’t see them anymore, but you still feel them there.  

“Got everything,” he states, removing his helmet. Tossing it on the ground, he rakes his fingers through his sweat damp curls with a sigh. “Quite the load to carry back. I’ll need space within your vessel to store my things.”

He steps towards a cabinet, and you stand, alarmed.

“Wait. You’re staying in here? With me? I thought you said you have a tent.”

He ignores the way your voice gets higher and tighter with every word, opening a door to peer inside. “I do, but it would be foolish to separate. If you’re opposed to discomfort, then you never had any business being on the Green, girl.”

It wasn’t my choice, you want to scream at him, but you hold your tongue. 

“Can’t you sleep outside in front of the hatch? To make sure no one gets in?”

He shakes his head, opening another cabinet. He rifles through your medical supplies, impressed. “This beauty really is fully stocked, isn’t she? No wonder I thought she’d be my redemption. Riches beyond belief hidden within her unassuming depths.”

He’s murmuring more to himself than anyone, and annoyance begins to simmer at the careless way he’s putting your freshly organized things back. You’re just about to repeat yourself when he closes the door and turns to you. 

“It won’t do to sleep outside. I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

He opens another cabinet, and your cassettes spill out with a slide. 

“What are these?” he asks, already bending to pick one up. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Snatching it from his hand, you kneel down to gather them up. Huffing with frustration, you cram them back into their storage and shut the door quickly. 

He watches it all, his jaw shifting in thought. 

“Look,” he ventures. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s gonna be a long couple of months if you don’t trust me.”

You say nothing, and he sighs. 

“A good partnership is only made so by candid discourse.”

He’s right. You know he’s right, and yet you don’t have it in you to acknowledge it out loud. How he expects you trust him you truly don’t know, and yet in the hours since you’ve met him, he has shown you kindness. A partnership offer when you don’t deserve it, protection against his former partner, burying your father for you. Whether that kindness is real or a ruse to have you lower your defenses, you don’t know. 

Either way, you don’t really have a choice. 

“There are a couple of spare storage bins over there,” you gesture at the corner, defeated. “You can put your things in there.”

“My sincerest thanks,” he replies with a slip of sarcasm, and turning back to your cleaning, you roll your eyes. 

–

“I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

The words repeat on a loop in your mind; your body shifting on the stiff cot. His presence in the small space feels foreign, your body hyper aware of it. You’ve never slept in this pod with anyone but your father. 

Your father. 

You wait for the grief to come, but when it doesn’t, you blame shock. The alternative would be to think about how you feel nothing, which, what kind of a daughter loses her father and feels nothing? Tendrils of shame seep through your thoughts, and you roll away from Ezra as if he can see into your mind. Your back facing him, you try to shut him out, focusing instead on the moon outside the window. 

It’s full, high and clear above the horizon, suspended in the inky sky. Your eyes study the craters carved into the surface, and you take slow and steady breaths out, mimicking sleep. You wish you could slip your headphones on and drown out the tension that fills the small space, but you don’t want to leave yourself vulnerable like that. 

You hear him shuffle behind you, and your shoulders brace themselves with tension – but when he doesn’t make any other sound, you go back to watching the floating dust. 

Isolated, alone. No different than any of the other thousands of nights you’ve spent staring out at the moon while waiting for your father to come home. The weight of your situation compresses the air in your lungs, and you feel the sharp, hot sting of tears behind your eyes. Squeezing them shut, you will them away. 

You won’t cry in here with him. You won’t. 

Both resentfully frustrated with his presence and deep down, grateful for it, you cross your arms tight across your chest and squeeze. Pouring all your emotions into the pocket of your chest, you squeeze and you squeeze, soothing yourself. 

He shuffles around quietly behind you, getting comfortable on his own cot and you’re thinking it’s going to be a long night just before the weight of the day presses upon your eyelids. 

They flutter shut, and you fall into a dreamless sleep.

[solomons-finest-rum]

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 3

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This time it took me much faster to write, mostly thanks to your wonderful replies and reblogs! 💗💗💗💗💗

WORD COUNT — 2,103

Masterlist

“So this is the man you have chosen for yourself?” Polly asked you when she followed you out to the porch for the much-deserved cigarette break.

The rest of the Shelby clan, as you have started to call them in your head, were left alone with Alfie, because you couldn’t take any more of their so-called negotiations. Somehow you weren’t exactly sure which party you felt sorrier for.

So you tried to escape, but Polly, ever the careful strategist, wouldn’t leave you alone. You paid it no mind, or so you wanted to pretend.

“Alfie?” You lit a match for her, which she gladly accepted. “He’s my husband.”

“Of your own free volition, no less.”

“Don’t be glib.”

Even though, curiouser and curiouser, you noticed you and Polly smoked the same brand of cigarettes, neither of you said anything to acknowledge the fact.

“Anna…”

“Polly.”

“All I want…”

“Yes?”

“All I want is to know you’re happy.”

“I am happy.” You paused. “Is Michael?”

You knew that wasn’t what the discussion was about, nor really the question that the Shelby matriarch wanted to answer. But you decided not to give her too much leeway. If she would ask you things in a more straightforward manner, you would perhaps answer, but you weren’t in the habit of being especially accommodating.

“He’s not who you think him to be, you know. Alfie.” You offered this much, because whether you wanted to admit it or not, Polly’s saddened expression did tug on your heartstrings—even if just a little.

“Oh, I think we both know exactly who he is, dear.”

You smirked.

“Enlighten me, please.”

Polly frowned and after some initial hesitation related for you pretty much the essence of the past few years and her family’s dealings with one Alfie Solomons. Most of it you knew, some of it was news to you, but nothing exactly changed your mind about the man.

What Polly or the rest of the Shelbys didn’t know was that the man behind the violent and unpredictable mask wasn’t really who you married or woke up next to every single day. But you didn’t feel like enlightening them just yet. The past you and Alfie shared meant so much more than territorial pissings.

“I know his reputation, Polly, but that doesn’t change the fact I owe him my life,” you informed her. “And Tommy tried to take his.”

This, as expected, wasn’t the reaction Polly wanted to hear.

“What happened to you?” she whispered incredulously, her dark eyes full of questions.

“A lot of bad things happened to me. Things I don’t necessarily want to relive.”

Polly’s grip on the porch railing got a little tighter.

“None of it was your fault,” you offered her that small consolation, regardless whether you had any real evidence for it. You were now a part of Alfie’s world, but you weren’t as ruthless. Never could.

Polly looked at you with hope so evident in her face that you couldn’t really find any other words than those you knew to be true: the rest of your story.

“Mind you, I don’t remember much and I’m sorry to say I don’t remember you at all, Polly. Your voice is familiar to me, but when I try to look further back it’s like looking at something through a dusty glass. I mostly remember Michael and sometimes I even get bits and pieces of how he used to play with me. Well, how he used to drag me around in a shoebox on a string.”

Polly laughed at that in surprise.

“I’m sure it was John who gave him that bright idea,” she said quietly, as if worried that any audible reaction would cause you to stop talking.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“When they took you away, I… It felt like…”

You waited patiently for Polly to gather her bearings, but what she said next shocked you:

“I think I missed you both so much that sometimes I simply wanted to die.”

It was hard to think of anything constructive to reply to that and so you hesitated to speak again. Polly lit another cigarette.

“Did they ship you off to the colonies?” she asked, evidently having deduced your lack of warmth for something it wasn’t.

The full truth was so much more pathetic, you thought. You weren’t good at these sorts of things; nobody in your life ever made you participate in heartfelt conversations. You didn’t know what to say to her about that previous confession and so you just answered the question:

“That was the plan. I probably would have died on the way there and almost dying seemed preferential at the time… Before they packed us up like slaves, they kept us in these big warehouses near the docks. All of us: convicted women, old, young, insane, some even children. Some just orphans and some real murderers. It was the most horrified I have ever been. You couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t breathe without someone trying to harm you one way or another. They fed us rotten food, wouldn’t let us clean ourselves, the bed bugs made the guards shave our heads… and then the fever broke out. Some of us were moved to a makeshift infirmary, where they also moved me when I fell ill. But that fever became my salvation. I wasn’t as well guarded there and one night when I regained consciousness I escaped.”

“What?” Polly gasped. “But how… Why did they say you died in Australia?”

“A fevered girl manages to escape His Majesty’s chamber of torture in her flea-riddled nightgown and lives to tell the tale.” You smirked. “Wouldn’t that make an uncomfortable headline?”

Polly thought about it for a second, but then confirmed with a nod that she agreed with your point.

“And Solomons, then?”

“I stole from him,” you laughed. “Don’t judge, I know the bakery is simply a front, but the bread they get is as good as any. And if you can’t see straight and haven’t eaten anything not covered in rat droppings for weeks… Your opinions on food ownership tend to get a little loser. Shame my reflexes had gotten so dull back then, because I would have gotten away with it, too. But I was delirious and truth be told probably looked dead already. So Alfie Solomons, the big bad wolf you think he is, took pity on me.”

It took a while for Polly to digest all that information and so you two just smoked in silence, up until her hand reached for yours somewhat unexpectedly. This time you didn’t reject her.

“I am sorrier than you could ever imagine, because—” Polly stammered.

“I know you are. But there is no need for it. I truly am at peace.”

After that, you just stood there holding hands, and even though you couldn’t know what Polly was thinking, you had a pretty good idea.

You were so different from Michael, that much was clear, and part of you wished you could express your feelings better than through an armour of perpetual cold or quips. Then again, from what you have heard today, Michael had led a very different life. Had you been allowed a normal home, with normal loving parents, perhaps you could have abandoned your snark and focused on rebuilding your relationship with Polly.

But, as things currently stood, it was too late to be something else than what life made you. A part of you would always remain on your guard, because no part of you would ever forget the hardships and the sacrifices you had to make from the ripe age of five. No child should ever see or endure what you had to.

“There’s still the matter of Boston,” Polly changed the subject swiftly and you smiled to yourself, wondering what her angle would be this time.

You came to like that about her, in the past few hours you came to finally know her. She was unpredictable and that kept you on your toes. If only she knew how much it resembled your husband’s own ways, perhaps she would stop with her side looks.

“What about Boston?” you asked.

“Your sister-in-law is Jack Nelson’s favourite niece. Or so we’ve heard.”

You shook your head and chuckled.

“You don’t like her, I take it. Gina Gray.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Is it the snow habit or the scheming that bothers you more?”

“It’s the bad hairdo, mostly. I do like her choice in shoes, though…”

You laughed at that in earnest and looked at Polly to see her smiling at you, albeit a little shyly. The smile, you thought, removed ten years of worry from her face.

“I have heard about the Nelsons,” you informed her. “I don’t suppose Michael will look too kindly on what we’re about to do to them. But then again… They did kill Alfie’s uncle. They messed with his business. I don’t see how it could be forgiven.”

“No, I don’t see how it could. But I can still hear them talking in there and nobody shot anyone yet.”

“So we are in agreement.” You threw the rest of your cigarette away and looked at Polly once more.

“We all make sacrifices, I suppose,” she agreed. “But you, my darling, have made plenty. We will not ask you for more.”

You smiled at her again, though this time there was much less wariness to it. She spoke in riddles and kept her cards very close to her chest, but that also reminded you of Alfie. You were sure now you would like her very much indeed.

“Absolutely not. Out of the fuckin’ question, fuckin’ ridiculous.” Alfie waved his hand dismissively and then looked at you as soon as you and Polly came back inside. “You’re upsettin’ my wife, thanks very much, mate, all right, just look at her, Tommy, she’s plenty upset!”

“And why would I be upset, Alfie?” you chirped.

“She doesn’t even know what she’s sayin’ no more, poor thing.” He stood up abruptly, too abruptly for Arthur’s taste who immediately reached for his gun.

“Now, you’re alright there, sweetie, yeah, no need to get emotional,” Alfie gave him a look, “but my wife does need her rest, all right, an’ I don’t particularly need us all to tuck her into bed, it ain’t that kind of thing.”

Confused, you let your husband take you upstairs to your bedroom, because to be fair you knew better than to interrupt his scheming in business. It let him break the habit of scheming in your personal lives.

“Might I know why I’m being relegated to my bed without dinner like a toddler, Alfie?”

“Yeah, I need to talk to you, come ‘ere.”

As soon as the door closed behind you, you heard the telltale noises of a very agitated discussion happening downstairs.

“What did she tell ya then?”

“Who?”

“Your mother, hm?”

“It was mostly me doing the talking.”

“She told ya about Boston.”

“How did you…?”

“Hm, I didn’t, right, but now you just told me. So out with it.”

Honestly, you were sometimes so impressed with his skill of manipulation that you forgot to be annoyed at being the manipulated party.

“Alfie, if you don’t want your wife to divorce you, I suggest you utilise those evil gifts of yours on our guests.”

“Fair, but don’t be mad, luv, all right, come ‘ere,” he smiled and pulled you closer, “and tell your beast of a husband if he should go to war or not, ‘cause this time I don’t think I can do it without you.”

“Alfie, you have done it without me. Many times.”

“Precisely my point, all right, I’m the one who knows how it feels to not have you to keep me sane, luv, so if you say we don’t do it, then we don’t, yeah?”

“You… you’d abandon your vengeance? For me?”

“In a heartbeat, luv, what kind of question is that even, you don’t ask me that. ‘Course I fuckin’ would.”

Remembering what Polly said about Gina, your mind was pretty much decided. You appreciated Alfie’s honesty, always have, but disrespect couldn’t be easily forgiven.

“Then I say we do it.”

The sudden fire in your voice made Alfie grin.

“I say we kill them all, Alfie. You take Boston and Tommy can have Jack Nelson’s head on a spike.”

“On a spike, hm?”

“That’s right.”

He gently took your face in his hands and looked at you with such affection that it only reassured you in your thinking.

“I love it when you talk business to me, luv,” he concluded.

[annie-creates]

Finally home

Pairing: Abby Anderson x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1400

Note: So this is my 30th fic and it's also the first day of spring so I wanted to put out this little thing that's been living in my head rent free lately. It is far from the fandoms I normally write for but here we are. I'm warning you the events of the game are kinda swithed around to fit the story. I hope you'll like it anyway.

Life hasn’t been easy on you. From the moment your mother sent you to a Firefly base when you were still just a child, you had to fight and fend for yourself. Earning everything you had, contributing to be fed, helping to have a place to sleep, growing up has been tough. And still you could thank heavens you were placed with the Fireflies who protected you and took care of you in the apocalypse. You imagined the worst thing that could happen to someone was to be left alone. You had friends amongst the other children, adults who brought you up, and Abby.

Abby was never too close nor too far from you, having closer friends but always keeping an eye out for you. You were inseparable back in the Salt Lake City, and even when your group disbanded, you followed her anywhere she wanted to go, your next refuge being the WLFs. You never questioned her, never doubted her decisions. Not until she killed Joel Miller. You understood, Abby’s dad being the closest thing you had to your own, but even after she leveled the score, the hunger for revenge didn’t settle. The more ruthless she became the more you drifted apart.

All the tension or fondness was lost in the days and weeks she spent away hunting down members of Ellie’s group. If you were once friends, now you were hardly two people who used to know each other. Yet you never lost your hope in her, believing she’ll come to her senses and actually live her life focused on herself and not the blood of others. The rumors of Fireflies regrouping gave you hope. You’d finally find a home again together.

“Abby please, fuck this WLF shit and let’s just go back.” You reasoned with her, when you met by luck after another few months not hearing from each other.

“I still have shit to do here.” She argued unwavering in her stance.

“Like what? We both know Isaac’s plan is trash.” You furrowed your brows at her.

“Just because you’re not at the top of the game doesn’t mean everyone else is dumber than you Y/n.” She scoffed at you.

“Excuse me, I don’t give a shit what ranking he gave to anyone!” You folded you hands over your chest.

“Yeah yeah, just because you’re low. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t like being a commander.” She taunts you.

“Now you’re just being mean. You know I don’t give a fuck about that.” You weren’t going to let her off that easily this time.

“You’re just jealous. Go run back to the Fireflies where you’re cared for like the lost puppy you are and leave the real job to the big girls.” She levels you with a look of cruelty and disdain.

“Fine. But don’t run back to me when you get lost again.” Shaking your head you leave to pack your backpack so you can have a head start for when the WLF finds out you’re a traitor.

You didn’t give a shit anymore for any one of them, you didn’t want to join any petty fights for territory of supplies. You wanted to live as close to a normal person as anyone could and maybe, just maybe try and help save the world somehow, or make it just a little bit better. You couldn’t do that at the WLF, but with the Fireflies you could at least try. They weren’t saints, but in comparison to the WLF and Seraphites they were your safest option. Maybe it was finally time to let Abby go her way after the countless times you tried to save her from the fate she was choosing for herself.

As you’re packing to leave, you hear Abby in an argument with Mel. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. “You’re a piece of shit, Abby.” Is all you can make out before Mel slams the door and you leave in fear of being discovered watching their moment. You didn’t agree, but you couldn’t argue against it either. The more time passed on the more questionable choices Abby was making. The last thing you wanted to do was abandon Abby, yet that’s what she was continuously forcing you to do. Maybe you needed to listen to your own advice and start focusing on your own life instead of others.

While she runs off to do god knows what with god knows who, you travel to the Catalina Island alone. It was a loose thread, but it was still a better shot than nothing. Plus it wasn’t like you could turn back and crawl back to the WLF begging for their forgiveness, if there even was any WLF anymore. And to your luck, the Fireflies excitedly accept you back, happy to regain one of Anderson’s medical students you used to be back in Salt Lake City before your mission to save the population and find a cure went to trash. For months you watched out for any rumors of tracks of Abby but all the leads run cold. The group couldn’t contact her even when she made a contact with them some time after you joined, promising to arrive in a few days. But few days turned into months and Abby Anderson was considered lost and dead, even though no one talked about it or mentioned it.

Until you found her. She and one of the new boys she met, Lev, in a boat arrived at the island in a pitiful state of barely living. Being part of the medical team now, you treated their injuries and took care of nursing them back to health. While you left Lev to be watched over by the team, you couldn’t stand leaving Abby in such cold and unwelcoming place unknown to her. So you took her to rest in your own apartment not too far away, laying her down on your washed out pillows but in warm sheets and clean duvets none the less.

“Y/n.” She states with a horse voice she clearly hasn’t used for some time.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.” You assure her cleaning her bleeding wounds.

As she falls back into her delirious dreams you treat her injuries dressing them up in a clean white gauze, finding many new cuts and bruises, some of which you could hardly imagine what caused them. Even her face was littered with wounds deep enough to leave a nasty scar. She lost a noticeable amount of muscle and her once toned arms seemed weaker now cover in blood. Her dirty blonde hair you often braided for her were messily cut off too short and covered in layers of dirt and soil.

“Hey, you need to drink something.” You carefully wake her up to get her started back on some fluids as soon as possible.

“Hmh...” She clearly wanted to say something but she hardly had the energy to even stay conscious.

“Don’t, it’s gonna be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” You pacify her after you half force some water into her.

“Don’t leave!” She catches your arm weakly with the most scared and vulnerable look you’ve ever seen on her.

“I won’t.” you assure her as you lay down in bed next to her, careful not to touch any of her wounds to not cause her any more discomfort or pain.

“Just hold me.” Abby pleads with you, but she didn’t have to ask you twice.

“I’ve got you. You’ll be okay.” You comfort her as you stroke her short hair and hold her shivering shoulders. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry.” Abby whines halfway unconscious again.

“Don’t be. You’re home. You are cared for.” You whisper to her as you rock her weakened body back to sleep.

You give her a little kiss into the crown of her hair. She was still the most beautiful and precious thing to you, no matter her crimes and punishments. It will grow back eventually. Her injuries will heal, and all of this will become just a faded memory over time. You’ll help her fight off any scarecrows and demons of her past, in her dreams and in the reality. She was finally back, and you won’t ever let her leave again. You both already lost too much in your hunt for revenge and justice. You finally found your home.

[simpingforblackfire]

Platonic Yandere Dick Grayson x reader x Platonic Yandere Starfire Part 6

General Drabbles of Life with Yan Starfire and Dick: 

Dick knew full well that Starfire’s cooking had the power to make Gordon Ramsey have a nervous breakdown with how bad it was. So, he would let you think you were being clever by bribing him with affection in order to make sure she didn’t try to spoon feed you whatever awful concoction she had made. 

When you wanted to be a bit more independent because you were being babied by your incredibly overbearing and overprotective captors or when you wanted to just pretend for a moment that you were back home living your normal life you would wrap your arms around Starfire and ask if you could help mummy in the kitchen. It was humiliating and encouraged the couples belittling and infantilization of you Starfire would be delighted to have you ask to spend time with her but she would be concerned about you getting hurt. So you would have to really turn on the charm by saying you wanted to spend time with your mama' and that you just "really want to bond" with her. It would also help to explain how you loved baking/cooking and that you wanted to be able to feel that happiness you got when you were making food and share it with her since Starfire would sympathise with you and feel touched that you wanted to spend time with her and share with her something that you love and once she agreed to let you ‘help’ (essentially do the cooking or baking for her or prompt her to do things a certain way so she doesn’t accidentally blow something up) she enjoyed spending time with you. She loved tying your cute apron around your waist that said "Mama's little helper' written across it as she wore her own matching one that just read 'Mama'. They were hideously cheesy but Starfire was delighted at the sight of you wearing one and couldn't help but pick you up and spin you around.

Starfire and Dick loved dressing you up. If you tried refusing to let them dress you up Dick would get pouty and Starfire would be a bit more outwardly forceful by changing her tone and narrowing her eyes. While Dick would try to encourage you to let them dress you up Starfire would lose her patience and lighthearted tone a lot quicker than him. 

Starfire loved running you bubble baths and joining you in them, sitting you on her lap as she played with and washed your hair. She found it relaxing to brush your hair and comb through it with her fingers. 

If anyone ever tried to harm you for whatever reason then they would be ruthless. 

You’re not allowed to date but it’s not like you would be able to even if you went behind their back because they don’t let you out of their sight. You’re too young to be getting a job or pursuing a career of any kind so there’s no need for you to go out anywhere without them. 

Your previous relationships should never be brought up around them because they will want to get every detail out of you and want to know exactly why it is you broke up. Anyone who’s had a relationship with you is immediately disliked by them if they find out. They see you as innocent and naive and so someone who’s dated or is trying to date you can only be bad news because they could hurt or corrupt you. 

Had you been an actual child they would have encouraged you to have friends but since you are an adult you’d be lucky to be let out of the house. 

A/N: This hasn't been proofread this is just stuff I didn't publish last year when I wrote it lol

[primofate]

The Ruthless Prince (Part 15) Scaramouche x fem!reader [Genshin Royal AU]

Summary: When Prince Scaramouche picks you out of a random group of commoners to marry, your life is turned upside down. He’s mean, snarky, condescending and he doesn’t act like a proper husband or prince at all. However, when Prince Tartaglia from the neighbouring kingdom takes an interest in you, Prince Scaramouche finds himself even more annoyed than usual. This is the story of him and you navigating this roller coaster of a relationship.

Warnings:  NOT PROOFREAD forgive me, longer than usual, a bit of fluff I guess?, medieval Karen alert

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary and a recap on the Royal AU plots are here.

Read other parts: (Ruthless Prince Masterlist)

You were distinctly aware that Scaramouche had sat next to you on the carriage enroute to the annual celebration. Before then, he’d always sat across you instead. Why were you paying attention to such details anyway? You’d been telling yourself not to overthink things, but it seems as if your mind just loved to wander,  especially after that small moment yesterday night. 

Try as you might to pretend that last night was nothing, probably just him being moody again, something inside you stirred in a way that had you curious, bordering on wondering if Scaramouche was actually starting to warm up to you…or maybe, possibly, even something more. 

You shook your head vigorously at the thought.

“What’re you doing?” Of course he had to notice and of course he had to give you a weirded out look. 

Your eyes darted towards and away from him all at once. “Uh…Nothing,” and then it was silent in the carriage again, up until the two of you arrived at the venue. 

It was a special one, unlike any other that you’ve been to before it actually looked simpler, yet it was still quite large with intricate ceilings and chandeliers, exotic looking windows and long elegant tables of food and drinks. 

Your arrival had to be announced. It was Scaramouche’s day and his presence was of the utmost importance. For some reason that didn’t bother you too much, though a lot of the attention would be on you for the night. Unlike usual gatherings, much of the guests were younger people. Possibly around your and Scaramouche’s age rather than the older nobles and aristocrats. 

Perhaps it was for that reason that you felt like there were a lot more stares on you than usual. 

“The opening dance will start in a few,” Scaramouche warned you, your arm hooked around his, a standard stance when the two of you enter a venue. 

A somewhat familiar face stops in front of the two of you. You reach back into your mind to look for her name. Ah. Right. Amaya. The young noble who saw you as nothing but dirt under her feet. 

“How can a nobody like you become the princess? We’ve all come from royal and pure blood, and then you, tainted and filthy like where you came from–there’s no way the prince would ever love you!”

You’ve seen her a few more times after that, in the same ladies tea party, but she didn’t speak up as much, seeing as the other nobles started warming up to you, regardless of your background. Amaya, however, you could see in the way she stood in front of the two of you that she was out for trouble.

“Prince Scaramouche,” she curtsied towards him, and completely disregards your presence next to him. Scaramouche’s eyebrows raise up, also noticing the lack of greeting towards you. Amaya wouldn’t even glance at you.

“Happy birthday, I’ve brought an extremely valuable artifact as a birthday present. I’m sure it’ll be to your liking,” Amaya was rather graceful. They all were. She motions her hand towards her left for a server to come forward. A perfect looking square shaped gift wrapped in golden paper was atop the tray he was holding, red ribbon encircling it. 

“If I may be so bold as to suggest something…I don’t believe she’s fit to do the opening dance with you…I heard that she hasn’t had the proper noble upbringing. I’m sure it’s stressful for her too,” Amaya threw you a fake smile as your eyes widened a little. She was really doing this in front of you, JUST as the two of you walk in. The night had barely even started and it was starting out with this, insinuating that you were nothing but commoner trash, and she wasn’t even done talking yet. “If you’d like, I’m confident that I’ll be able to do the dance flawlessly,”

Even the server holding the gift looked uncomfortable with her words. There was no world in which it was appropriate to suggest to the prince that he should do the opening dance with someone else who WASN’T his wife. The beginning was already looking grim for you.

There was a moment of silence, and you were at a loss for what to say, not knowing how far you could go with your words. However, a short snort of laughter cut through the tension, your eyes darted sideways, realizing that it was Scaramouche. There was a wide grin plastered on his face and he was looking at Amaya as if SHE was the trash beneath his feet. His momentary snickering gradually turned into chuckles, and his chuckles bellowed into obnoxious laughter, his head tipped back like a villain.

Your eyes were wide while Amaya was making her declaration, but they were full blown saucers now, watching Scaramouche laugh like a maniac and everyone in close vicinity was looking at him, astounded as well. “S-Scaramouche?” You started, wondering if he had finally gone crazy.

His laughing abruptly stopped and he leveled his gaze towards Amaya. His glare was unlike anything you’ve seen before. Sure, he always had one on his face, but this one was vicious, like you could be poisoned with just one look. And then, with humor in his voice, he asked Amaya “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Amaya was frozen in a second, and you couldn’t help but tug at Scaramouche’s arm with your own, like a mother who was embarrassed. You whispered at him, “Scara, just leave it,” you tugged again, but he didn’t budge. “You’re a great example of why I didn’t marry a noble, conceited witch,” 

“Scaramouche!” You hissed, aware of the eyes that were already turned towards your small group. Amaya was looking paler by the minute but Scaramouche was looking more entertained by the second. 

“Listen carefully, either you apologize or you’re going to leave and count on it that your family will be wiped out of noble existence,” Scaramouche gave his final command and Amaya immediately blurted out, looking straight at Scaramouche “I-I’m sorry! I apologize,” almost as if she didn’t know what was happening. 

But Scaramouche sneered, tipped his head sideways towards you and exclaimed, “to her,”

Amaya was horrified, but she still turned towards you, finally meeting your eyes and curtsied. “I-I-I” she seemed to be having some trouble.

“Now!” Scaracmouche was ruthless in his demands, and Amaya finally breaks.

“I apologize, princess!” you could hear the tremble in her voice. Shamed and embarrassed, she turned around and fled to the restrooms, you could almost see her watery eyes in your mind’s eye. The server was left standing there with the gift and Scaramouche clicked his tongue. “Throw that out, I want nothing from that family,” and finally tugged at you to retreat over to one of the tables with drinks. 

Scaramouche unwound his arm from yours and took one of the champagne glasses flawlessly, taking a sip from it as if nothing had happened and you were left staring at him, jaw slack and open. “Scaramouche, you can’t just–” you blinked, and looked around to see if anyone was staring at the two of you, then your eyes darted between crowds to see if you could catch a glimpse of Amaya again. Strange enough, part of you felt bad, despite the fact that Amaya was the one who struck first.

“Quit looking so worried, I’m the crown prince,” Scaramouche watches as your eyebrows scrunch up in worry. He doesn’t understand what’s got you so riled up or anxious. “Don’t waste your time over that hag.” and he meant it. You knew because his hand flew over to your chin and forced your gaze away from the crowd and towards him. “Stop. Forget about it,” 

Easy for him to say. He must be so used at making people feel like crap. You opened your mouth to say something, but he spoke sooner than you did. “If she isn’t showing respect then she doesn’t deserve it either,” then he dropped his hand away from your chin, but your gaze stayed on Scaramouche. Your shoulders relaxed. He had a point, but it was really strange coming from Scaramouche’s mouth. 

It’s as if when it came to other people he knew what the rules were, but for himself…it’s like etiquette didn’t matter. He could be rude and snappy all day long and yet he wouldn’t expect anyone to talk back to him.

You took in a long breath while closing your eyes and sighed it out just as slow. You kept your eyes closed for a moment longer before opening them with a half defeated and half accepting grin. “Alright, fine…I’ll just…wipe everything over, pretend it didn’t happen and get on with this party,” then you set your hand out to him. “Opening dance?” Suddenly you had the determination to show others that you DID know how to do the opening dance properly. Amaya be damned.

Despite being in close proximity of each other during the actual opening dance, it didn’t have the same intimacy as it did the night before. Perhaps because there were people looking at the two of you, scrutinizing the dance and probably whispering about how the two of you had no chemistry at all, or something. Nevertheless it ended without a hitch, and unlike the night before, you and Scaramouche came apart as soon as the dance finished, but your hands stayed together as you walked off the dance floor and onto another table with food.

He glanced sideways at you. “You were a little stiff,” he commented and you swerved your head towards him with a glare. 

“I was nervous, what do you expect?” It didn’t really feel great to be told that when you were so determined to show others that you had “perfected” the dance. 

“...It wasn’t a poor performance…but being stiff just makes you…heavier,” Scaramouche continued to talk as if he didn’t know he was digging his own grave.

“Oh now you’re calling me heavy! That doesn’t even make sense–I’m the same weight all throughout the dance!” you hissed at him and he turns to look at you with a blank look on his face as the two of you walk, though it looks as if he’s about to say something mischievous.

“...Then maybe you’re just naturally heav–”

“Prince Scaramouche! Princess Y/N!” You fumed at him, though he didn’t finish his sentence, he has a grin on his face. The two of you turn to see Kokomi curtsying towards the two of you. Your mood instantly brightens up. 

“Kokomi!” You can’t help but break away from Scaramouche’s hold on your hand and greeted Kokomi with a hug. She seemed like such a good break from a terrible start of the evening. Kokomi receives it and greets Scaramouche as well. 

“Happy birthday, prince,” she nodded and Scaramouche only let out a hum. “It seems like the two of you are getting along better these days,” Kokomi comments as you slide away from her hug and back to Scaramouche’s side.

“Nonsense.” Scaramouche pipes up right at the same time as you say “Hardly.” with a roll of your eyes. But Kokomi giggles, hiding her laugh behind her hand and moves on to a different topic. She fetches a black box from her sleeve, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand and hands it over to Scaramouche. “It’s done, milord. There should be no issues whatsoever with it,” She sounded so proud, but you had no idea what was in the box, and Scaramouche looked as if he didn’t have an idea too.

So, the first thing he did was receive it, and opened the top. There were two rings resting inside the velvet of the box. One was clearly for a female. A simple, silver band ring with a pearl embedded into the middle. The other was a larger and thicker ring. It was silver as well, but it had a mysterious sheen to it, like it wasn’t completely made of silver. 

Then it hit Scaramouche, a quiet “Oh,” escaping his lips. He closed it back and pocketed the box of rings. Kokomi looked far too pleased with herself. You only blinked, confused. “Is that… a gift?” you asked the two of them. 

Scaramouche doesn’t answer but Kokomi gives you an explanation. “For generations, our clan has been tasked to make pearl rings for the future king and queen. These rings are exchanged during the first birthday in which the prince has been wedded. They’re quite special, you see. The Sango pearls we use are one of a kind, magical properties are infused into the material and…well, you’ll experience it yourself later,” 

“Oh,” you let out just like Scaramouche did earlier. “I didn’t know about that,” your gaze moves to Scaramouche, and he feels it on him, questioning him as to why he didn’t say anything about it earlier. 

“...I forgot,” he simply said, and you buy it but you deflate, wondering if he really was fit for the role of king. He just…didn’t know how to communicate with anyone. 

“Why was it not exchanged during the wedding instead?” You ask Kokomi curiously, who is oh-so happy to answer your questions. 

“Back then the rings were originally simple gifts from the Sangonomiya clan to the crown prince on his birthday. I suppose that tradition just stuck despite some changes on the rings itself. So, in a way, you could say that it’s simply a birthday gift,” She brought her hands together with a pleasant smile. 

Come to think of it, the wedding rings that the two of you exchanged during the wedding were…fake. Just for show. You exchanged them during the ceremony but they were taken off as soon as the whole thing was over and you didn’t see them again. Perhaps these were like replacements, or maybe the real ones. 

“Perhaps the prince can explain more about the rings if time allows. Now then, I’ll have to catch up with you later, princess,” Kokomi curtsied again, and smoothly leaves the conversation. Without her there it’s as if the two of you are back to your gruff demeanors. 

You cross your arms on your chest and say “Well?” to fish out an explanation from Scaramouche. He lolls his head lazily towards you. “You’ll see later, they’ll make a big show of us exchanging the rings, after we cut my birthday cake.”

Oh great. You thought to yourself. The whole thing was quite literally a show. Scaramouche’s birthday show for all the young nobles to see. It was rather horrifying and just as you thought you didn’t mind the attention, it really did seem like all of it would be on you for the rest of the night. 

Surprisingly, you and Scaramouche seemed to share the same thought. He didn’t like these theatrics either, and so the two of you silently agreed to just hang out on one table together, discreetly eating some food unless a noble disturbed the two of you and engaged in conversation. However, these ones were not that adept at making long conversations. The young ones would say something about the weather, ask how the two of you were and would have nothing else to talk about and leave almost instantly. 

It was like a blessing in disguise. 

When Scaramouche’s birthday cake was rolled out, you had to tip your head up to see the entirety of it. It was a royal lavender colour, and you didn’t bother to count how many tiers there were, it looked as if one poke would tip it over.

The announcer was talking. Something about celebrating Scaramouche’s birthday and it being a joyous occasion. You tuned it all out cause all you were focused on was not making a fool of yourself while the others watched on and clapped in awe at how grand the cake was. 

Scaramouche was passed a knife and he took it. Then, with the knife still gripped in his hand he seemed to offer it to you. “We’re supposed to cut it together,” You blink at him but follow suit, lest you would just stand there like a fool. You placed your hand atop his which was holding the cutting knife and just followed as his hand hovered above the cake. There was a countdown, and both of your hands pushed down through a piece, making a clean cut and perfect slice.

That piece of cake was set aside on a plate, possibly for the two of you to enjoy later. The theatrics didn’t stop there. It was the ring exchange now, and Scaramouche still looked as bored as ever as he fished it out of his pocket. 

“May our hearts always be connected,” Your head jerks up as you hear Scaramouche utter the words. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s picking up your left hand, ring ready on his other. You can’t stop the goosebumps that rise behind your neck, making you shiver. The words seemed out of place in his mouth, with his expression so blank it’s hard to think that he’s sincere, but then his eyes hold yours, there seems to be a slight squeeze on your hand as he slips the ring around your ring finger. “...no matter the distance, you’ll always be protected,” 

He finished just as the ring rests snugly on your finger, and he takes a moment to admire it on your hand, still splayed atop his. 

The sentences he said were your short wedding vows, and though it’s your second time hearing it, there’s something different about it this time around. “I–” You start, when you realize that it’s supposed to be your turn. You remember yours clear as day, because the two of you had practiced it back then, endlessly. 

His eyes follow your every move, from the way you picked up his ring, to the way there was a slight tremble in your hand when you picked up his. “I vow to always be by your side…” Your hands are a little cold, he notes…and yet…why does he feel nothing but warmth, watching your lips move to recite the vows? “...To be your shelter, your strength…and your bride,”

As you place the ring in the correct place on his finger, the two of you move your head at the same time, meeting each other’s gazes. Your lips are slightly apart in wonder. 

When did it become easier to say those words?

“Y/N,” Scaramouche rarely says your name, but when he does it sounds like a delicacy. Something that you only enjoy once in a while. You realize he calls your name to warn you, your heart suddenly leaps out of your chest and starts galloping like a frenzied horse.

You’re supposed to kiss. Why did no one tell you about this?

Scaramouche’s hand easily rests on the side of your face. You don’t think you’re ready for this. You’re slightly panicking and you only hope it isn’t evident as he starts to dip closer–

BANG!

You startle and jump, instinctively clutching at Scaramouche’s coat when the ballroom starts to register that someone had come in rather forcefully. There are sudden whispers all around you and it seemed as if the atmosphere had changed drastically. Scaramouche still has his hand on your cheek when he turns to face the intruder striding towards the two of you. 

Prince Tartaglia approaches. 

In full armor and battle gear, knights following behind him.

You aren’t aware that the pearl on your ring suddenly glows a fiery red.

Scaramouche has time to glance at his, the pearl sheen on his ring turns dark, almost black under the light. Then, as if reading your emotions clearly, he states “Being afraid does nothing,” he drops the hand that was on your cheek, and subtly places himself in front of you as Tartaglia nears. “Besides, I’ll make quick work of this uninvited bastard,” 

Scaramouche grins, and it’s as if an unspoken war had just started. 

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[charliedawn]

Hiii could you do a slashers helping the reader escape from the other mother! I hope you have a good day

Of course. So, you are the slashers' adoptive daughter and the Beldam decided you would be the perfect prey..Unbeknownst to her, she would soon meet your parents. Enjoy.

Five *enters in the Other Side and finds the Beldam to bargain* : "I hate witches. But, I'll make a deal with you. You let go of Y/N, and you'll get me. Now, come on. I'm all yours, you big ugly crawlie.."

Five would pretend to be surrendering and exchange places with you—only to jump into time and space to escape.

Five would firstly try to get rid of the Other Mother by himself, but would give up if he sees she is too strong.

He would then warn the slashers and they would all get on the Other Side to destroy the Beldam and make sure she won't hurt you—or anyone else—ever again..

Five : "No one hurts Y/N. No one."

The Beast *roars* : "OURS !"

The Beast wouldn't waste any time before attacking the Beldam and make sure she knows her place.

He wouldn't wait to find a plan or discuss with the Horde, as the Beast is ruthless and the moment you are in danger, he would act.

It's not like the Horde wouldn't approve though.

They all vouched for him to take control when they knew you were in danger.

Other Mother : "GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME !"

The Beast *keeps punching the Beldam mercilessly* : "THEY'RE OURS !"

It would be more of a power and ownership kind of thing to the Beast, but it would reunite you with the other personalities.

Patricia *hugs you tightly* : "Oh thank goodness ! You are alright.."

Dennis *frowns disapprovingly at you* : "Never leave again without telling us."

Barry *cries in relief and embraces you* : "NEVER DO THAT TO US AGAIN, GOT IT ?!"

Jason and Freddy would team up. They may not like each other, but they both know they fight better together.

They usually don't get along, but would make an exception to take down whoever or whatever hurt you.

Freddy would taunt her and make sure she reveals your location. He would then let Jason occupy the Other Mother before going to get you.

Once he is sure you are alright and out of danger, he would return and help Jason.

Freddy would then proceed to find out what her weaknesses are and tell Jason.

Let's say..The Other Mother wouldn't last long.

Freddy : "Behind you."

Jason *decapitates her*

Freddy *chuckles* : "...To be fair, I did warn you."

Norman : "...So, you think you are a better mother than me ?"

Norman would find offense in the fact that the Beldam would kidnap you and claim to make all your wishes come true.

Norman fought tooth and nail to get custody and make your life the best he could offer you.

He would find great insult in the fact that the Beldam would try to replace him and it would end in Norman throwing himself at the Beldam to tear her head off.

Norman *yells hysterically* : "YOU NEVER TOUCH MY KID AGAIN, DO YOU HEAR ME ?! THEY'RE MINE ! I'M THEIR PERFECT PARENT ! NOT YOU !"

When Brahms found you missing, he immediately panicked and searched everywhere for you.

When he saw the little door going to the Other Side, he didn't think twice before crawling there to retrieve you.

When he noticed the Beldam who was about to devour you, he was so angry and didn't hesitate before jumping on her ripping her eyes out.

Brahms is stealthy and knows how to remain quiet and move fast.

He then made sure to stay very still for a moment before grabbing you, quickly making your way back to your true home.

Brahms *shakes you back and forth* : "DO. NOT. SCARE. BRAHMS. AGAIN !"

The Beldam may be powerful, but she wouldn't stand a chance against Penny and Pennywise.

They are literal aliens and their powers combined would make anyone tremble in fear.

If anything, she would feel their power and not pick you as a target—if only to stay out of their radar.

She would feel a lot less confident about her choice and either give you back or attempt to eat you and leave before your family comes to get you..But, I wouldn't count on it.

Penny *giggles* : "You will pay with your life for this mistake.."

Pennywise : "Your death will be long and painful if you do not give them back. We won't show you any mercy and tear you limb from limb..Now, give us back our child."

Beldam ? What Beldam ?

Myers found a spider in the house and decided to set it on fire.

He didn't find any evil witch..even though the spider did seem rather huge.

...

Oh.

Beetlejuice : "So...You're the very ugly thing that's been threatening my kid ?"

Beldam *seethes at him and holds you closer to her* : "MINE !"

Beetlejuice *snickers and throws his cigarette to the floor* : "Dream on, ugly."

Beetlejuice is a poltergeist. He would tire the Beldam out, even summon demons from the Underworld to get you back.

Or, even worse..He would start haunting the Beldam's house until she gives in.

Beldam *screams when she finds the whole house in complete disarray for the third time in an hour* : "GET OUT !"

Beetlejuice *laughs* : "Ain't happening. Now, tell me where my kid is, or I start plucking out your garden plants.."

The Other Mother would have no choice but to comply.

J : "KABOOM !"

J would go all out and would bring every single weapon known to Man to save you.

He would throw everything he has at her until she would tell him where you are and he would have you safe.

He would then make sure you are alright before asking you to wait for him on the other side.

J would then throw a bomb inside the tunnel before leaving—for good measure.

J *sighs* : "There are things and people out there that want to hurt you, Y/N. Life isn't pretty. But, it's life. And it's the only life you got me to protect you. So, next time you wanna get a 'better life' and sell your soul to a spider witch, remember that.."

[fetishfairytales2]

Ask Princess (Heather)

Ask Princess Heather: Cuckolding

Hey there, you perverted ladies and losers. It's time for one of my favorite types of posts; Ask Princess Heather. All you boss babes out there can send me your burning questions about how to properly emasculate and degrade the worthless man in your life and I’ll answer them! Today's question comes from a fellow queen who wants to introduce cuckolding into her relationship - probably because her loser boyfriend has a worthless little clitty. 

“Princess Heather, I’m not thrilled with my man in bed anymore. How do I ask him to agree to be a cuckold? How did you ask Sissy Brandi?”

Oh girl, I don’t ask Sissy Brandi anything, ever! I AM the one in charge here. My sissy, on the other hand, is nothing more than a pathetic, diaper-wearing excuse for a man. I don't need his permission for ANYTHING. In fact, I don't even care about his opinions unless they involve telling me how hot I look in my date night outfits - which, let's be honest, I already know I look hot. Telling Sissy Brandi that I was going to cuckold him just destroyed his sissy heart. God girl, it was so fun! 

Now this is just me, but when I did it, I was absolutely ruthless. I had him all tied up and helpless, and I teased and teased until those sissy marbles were bursting. The poor thing was begging for release, but I wasn't done with him yet. Right before I finally let him release his pathetic load, I dropped the bomb on him - he was about to be my little sissy cuckold. And just to really drive the humiliation home, I even made a list of all the alpha men in our lives that I would be sleeping with. And of course, I made him beg and plead for me to go through with it if he wanted any chance of shooting his loser load!

There was “Daddy Connor” of course, but you all know that story. And then there was Brandi's supposed "best friend" who was more than happy to trade their friendship for a night with me. And let's not forget my personal trainer, god he’s such a stud! Even when Brandi was still pretending to be a man, she was always jealous of Jerome's muscles and how much time he got to spend with me. Needless to say, I got in some extra "workouts” with him that week and Brandi got lots of extra protein. 

There you have it babes! Don't even bother trying to get a sissy’s opinion. They're clueless and too busy being pathetic to have a real one anyways. And as for their feelings? Who cares? They should only be focused on your pleasure and making sure you're taken care of. After all, they're nothing without you, am I right ladies? And if they dare to whine or cry, don't even waste your breath on explaining yourself. Just get them a fresh diaper, put on a sexy outfit, and find yourself a real man who knows how to please you. It’s not like they could ever compare to a real man anyway.

[shewholovestoread]

Mission Impossible 7: Dead Reckoning Impressions

I’ve been a fan of the Mission Impossible franchise, especially fourth film onwards. This is not a review per se, it’s more a list of what was okay in the film, what was great and what was downright awful. So let’s get into it.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

THE MEH:

- The villain - on the surface, having an AI entity called The Entity sounds like a good idea. Especially given the current climate, the discourse surrounding AI and the way it’s being used. The problem is that, it lacks the human component that makes a villain engaging. One of the most fascinating aspects of a villain done right is their motivation and their drive. Aspects that perhaps the audience can relate to. All of that is missing with a digital villain.

- Gabriel - Again, the fact that he’s following orders from an AI just seems dumb and takes away from his being an engaging villain in his own right. Yes, he’s menacing and clearly dangerous but all of that is undercut because he’s not the big bad, a machine is. His history with Ethan is rife with untapped potential and I hope that the eighth film digs deeper into that.

- Alana Mitsopolis - So much potential and she does next to nothing in the film.

Also, this was mind-boggling, when Grace is pretending to be Alana, her eye colour is so obviously different from the real Alana that I’m kinda shocked that the brother didn’t pick that up. It was so glaring that it immediately took me out of the film. It made no sense.

THE GOOD:

- Paris - Pom Klementieff stole the show. She was so good and I’m so excited to see her in the next installment. Also, the scene of her chasing Ethan and Grace in the huge-ass military truck... pure chef’s kiss. You know that scene in the animated 101 Dalmations when Cruella is driving her car like a lunatic, Paris had that energy down pat.

- Grace - I liked her character though there are some problems that I’ll get to later. But well written and another character who doesn’t immediately fall head over heels in love with Ethan. I liked that she was smart and didn’t trust people just because they asked her to. She had reason to be wary and I appreciated that.

- The stunts - This is a given. The stunts get bigger and more outrageous with every progressing Mission Impossible film and this one was no different. The bike-jumping-off-the-cliff is the one that they’ve pushed the most in their marketing, but there’s one more near the end that’s probably way more stressful.

THE BAD:

- The stunts - The stunts in the film overpowered the plot. There is such a thing as 'too much of a good thing’ and the stunts in this film definitely fall into that category. There was something new happening every few scenes and some of the stunts scenes also just went on for a little too long.

- The Death of Ilsa Faust - This one just drove me mad with rage. She is canonically as good as Ethan, his equal in every way and was set-up as a foil to him, often a little more ruthless than him and willing to make tough decisions even if that meant going against Ethan and his team, people she clearly cares about.

It’s not just that she died, but the way she died. She gets stabbed by Gabriel and actually died alone, by the time Ethan finds her, she’s already gone. She died alone on a fucking bridge and that’s just a damn shame.

To add insult to injury, the way they’ve set-up Grace as an immediate replacement for Ilsa, to the extent that in the very next scene, she’s part of the team as if she had always been there. It’s like the film is telling you that female characters are of little consequence and replaceable. This was also so damn blatant that yet again, it pulled me out of the film. I couldn’t believe that it was handled in such ham-handed way. It also made me dislike Grace on principle.

Her death also stings because Benji and Luther were right there and they’ve been there since the third (fourth?) film and are still alive and kicking. If we were meant to have a meaningful loss for Ethan, why couldn’t it either of the 2 dudes? Also, it is possible to have more than 1 woman on the team. There’s no rule that states that the addition of the new female character must be facilitated by the death of the previous woman on the team. There are SOOOO many films guilty of this (looking at you Pacific Rim 2, which killed off Mako Mori and then replaced her with Liwen Shao)

THE THING THAT GIVES ME PAUSE:

The only thing that gives me pause is the way Ilsa’s death was handled. It’s so badly done that it almost feels like a different film. My theory is that Ilsa is actually alive and will return in the next film. The whole thing was badly handled on purpose.

Now hear me out, early on in the film, Ethan and Ilsa fake her death to get the American intelligence agencies off her back. From the way it’s shot, it’s immediately apparent that she’s not dead. And they reveal very quickly that she’s still alive.

When she reunites with the team, the whole lot of them get into an argument about acceptable losses and that the mission is more important than any member of the team (very subtle-R-us) and then to no one’s surprise, it is Ilsa who goes and talks to Ethan and they have a very awkward hug. Ilsa and Ethan’s romance, thus far, was played with great subtlety. they’re not very touchy-feely with each other. They show their love in how far they’re willing to go for each other. It’s the sexual tension that is the real draw for these two. It’s a strange kind of intimacy which is very different from all of his previous romantic partners.

So we got that awkward scene and by then it is glaringly obvious who’s gonna die. Ilsa has a sword fight with Gabriel, she gets stabbed and then dies. But here’s the thing, every thing I said earlier about how it was handled just doesn’t feel right. McQuarrie is a better writer and director and I expect him do better because he has consistently done better in the last two films.

We are constantly told that The Entity can already see ALL of the possible approaches that Ethan can think of. It can see 10 steps ahead of everyone on the team. So how do you beat a machine that has already seen all of your upcoming moves and put in counter-attacks? You do something it can’t predict. If both Gabriel, Grace and pretty much everyone concerned thinks Ilsa is dead, it gives her the perfect opportunity to blindside The Entity. She’s the piece of the puzzle that The Entity can’t see coming.

Repetition: Gabriel already killed Ethan’s past love interest, it is so damn lazy of the filmmakers to make him kill the current love interest (although Ilsa is so much more than a mere love interest) Not to mention, Gabriel stabs Paris in almost the exact same place as he did Ilsa and she managed to live and even saved Ethan and Grace’s lives.

If however, this is the end of the road for Ilsa Faust, it was a damn shame for such an amazing character to get such an anti-climactic end. It was a disappointing end for a character that had very quickly become one of the best parts of the series.

[icallhimjoey]

Can you make a joe quinn x reader where him and the reader have been together for a while and since hes getting more famous of st4 she notices the fangirls comment about her and her body and how of a small chest she has compared to others and she believes yhem and wsnts to do a breast surgery and she hides the papers from him untul he finds them and they fight about it and she explains why she wants to do it and he tells her it doesnt matter to him and that he loves her and they make love? :)

itty bitty titty committee (said with love, i am a member), assemble! wordcount: 2.3K ----------

Perfect

“What the fuck is this?”

Oh, it had been sort of fun at first. 

You would excitedly point out people taking sneaky pictures on the tube, and Joe would scrunch his face at you, before turning to smile at who ever had recognized him out and about. It had become a recent phenomenon that you had to deal with, and it took some time getting used to. Before, Joe had been recognized only once when you’d been out with him, and it had been an older gentleman who’d seen him in a play and just wanted to come tell him about it. No photo. No nothing. Just a nice chat.    It fascinated you that now girls would come up to him as you would do a Wednesday afternoon food shop. They’d hug him in isle 3 in Tesco’s, next to the cartons of milk and boxes of cereal as you would pretend to be invisible, pushing the trolley away as you'd keep shopping. They’d hug him so tightly; his breath would escape his chest as he posed for pictures taken with phones in shaky hands.

   Joe never minded. Joe always made time. He’d match their energy and his media training would kick in, you’d clock it immediately, but Joe was always genuine. A class act. He wouldn’t go as far to say that it’s what he actively wanted, being recognized in places and at times he didn’t expect to be, but he was so grateful for it. It meant that he was doing something right. It had tickled you to no end when you found people were talking online under reposted photos that were plucked off of your social media pages. You had been quick to privatize everything, but people had their ways, you were sure. People would argue with passion – “Joseph can hang out with a girl without having to date her!”, “Oh my God that’s literally his sister!”, “Daft cows, that’s his agent.”. You would send Joe screenshots in WhatsApp, adding “my good friend” or “such close siblings” with love heart emojis and he would write back “fuck off, weirdo”.    When you’d been less careful and had kissed outside of a McDonalds late at night, it had proven that Joe was in fact spoken for. You had both been drinking, and you’d been so very happy with your little box of chicken nuggets, feeding Joe little bites as he smoked a cigarette next to the entrance. Joe had kissed you, and you had broken away from him in laughter because he still had chicken in his mouth. The photos and videos of you from across the street, a well lit and busy restaurant behind you and cars passing in front of you, had spread online. For a full week people you were close to couldn’t stop sending you screenshots as they came across them on social media. And you had really liked the pictures too! You really liked what you’d been wearing, and Joe had been in his brown suit – just cute pics of a cute couple being cute together.

“What the fuck is this?”

But Joe had told you to stop looking for pictures online, knowing not everyone would be nice. And he’d been right. The things you’d come across would sometimes baffle you, and you would absolutely lose yourself for hours, hidden behind your phone or laptop screen. You hadn’t let Joe see, but some of these girls were ruthless. There was no way you would have been able to predict the running joke you had become online.    “Small tits McGee.” “Joe’s a boob man, how is this fair on him” “Is that why he hugs every single girl he meets like that? So he gets to press himself up to actual boobs?”   Words cut deep. Deeper than you’d like to admit. And then there were TikTok videos of edited pictures pulled from your Facebook account. Big boobs photoshopped onto your frame, replaced by the actual real shot, a flashing “before and after” on a loop that emphasized your small cup-size. It wouldn’t have affected you so bad if you hadn’t already been riddled with insecurity. These girls were only echoing the voices in your head and even though you tried your very best not to, you had spiraled. 

Your boyfriend had noticed you seemed a little less happy than before. You were in moods more often, and when asking if you were okay, if something was wrong, you’d never let up. “I’m fine,” you’d say, fake smile plastered on your face. And Joe wouldn’t press it, because he knew you’d come to him if you needed to, but his worry didn’t fade.

“What the fuck is this?”

After staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, examining yourself until your body didn’t even look real to you anymore, you started looking at websites of plastic surgeons. Breast augmentations were expensive, but the images on their websites looked good. You would scan your eyes across pages for images of breasts that looked like yours in the before photos, just to see what you could turn into if you had the money. You were sure you could save up for one, it’d just take a while. You were zooming in on scars, contemplating if you’d be okay with having those, when you decided that booking a consultation would probably still your mind a bit.

And so you’d gone in. And you hadn’t told Joe. Or anyone, for that matter. And they had shown you things. 3D images of what you may look like after. And they had let you feel implants. And they’d drawn over your chest and hadn’t even questioned why you were there, so you knew. Yours were the kind of boobs people got augmented. You’d left your first appointment with booklets, flyers, and folders. They had printed the photo they had taken of you. The before. And also, the virtual after. 

Sometimes, when Joe wouldn’t be in, you’d just look at it. Getting used to it. Holding up the image next to your own body, and you had started preferring the body that was promised to you by the surgeon. So, you silently had started to save money, because maybe, this was just right for you. It would end the stream of comments and jokes you’d read every day, because you couldn’t not check to see what people were saying about you.   “What the fuck is this?” Joe’s tone was accusatory. Harsh. 

You’d walked in on Joe, the booklets and flyers laid out on the table in front of him, the two printed pictures in his hands. He’d found them. You hadn’t known exactly how to react, but your instinct was to settle down the upset that roared within your boyfriend and had seeped out through his eyes at you. 

“Oh, that’s nothing,” you tried minimizing it, sounding aloof. But your face had flushed red with embarrassment as you had stepped forward to try and take the pictures from Joe. “You’re not thinking of doing this.” Joe accused, moving his hands out of your reach and the anger in his voice flushed your body with adrenaline. You didn’t appreciate Joe’s tone. Who was he to decide this for you? His face didn’t falter, not a hint of empathy behind his eyes, and you felt anger bubble up your throat.   “And if I was?” in your head you had sounded stern, but your voice left your body too shaky for your liking. Joe’s face dropped suddenly and flooded with concern. “Sweetheart,” he looked at the images again, and you felt strangely exposed. “Why?” Joe asked on an exhale, his eyes scanning the printed 'after' photo. Your arms subconsciously wrapped around your stomach, and you raised your shoulders in a shrug. Explaining it would mean you’d have to confess it was his fans that had gotten under your skin, and you didn’t want to do that. You chewed at the inside of your cheek, before growing frustrated at Joe looking at the images of you in his hands.  “Give those here,” you successfully snatched them from him this time and started collecting the rest from the table. Joe watched you, his eyebrows furrowed, and his face showed genuine confusion. Your response to his words, the way you were scrambling to hide all the things he’d found when he had been looking for an envelope in drawers littered with random junk had absolutely taken him by surprise. You’d never mentioned any of this before to him.  “You know you don’t need it,” Joe tried, but the compliment fell on deaf ears. You moved the pile of papers back into the drawer where Joe had found them, no need to be secretive about them now. You didn’t know how long ago Joe had discovered them, and how much of the information he’d read through. “I’m just entertaining the idea.” You pushed the drawer shut, figuratively also closing the door on the topic in your mind. It didn’t work as easy as that on Joseph, though. “When were you going to tell me?” Joe snarked, clearly annoyed by his failed attempt to quickly talk you out of getting a boob job. He couldn’t accept your mindless disregard, and he wasn’t sure what irked him more. The fact that you’d withheld this from him, or the thought of coming home one day and finding you with fake tits high up on your chest. “I would’ve let you know eventually,” you said tensely. “It doesn’t really concern you.” You lied, entirely too unconvincing and he could hear it in your voice. Joe’s eyes shot down to your chest. What was wrong with them? You had never shown insecurity before, Joe’s hands were always welcome to grope. What had changed? “Stop staring.”  “You’re perfect.” Joe spoke softly, finding your eyes with his own, changing his tactics to change your mind. You weren’t great at hiding true feelings, and Joe had known you long enough to read your eyes with expertise. You scoffed at his little comment. “You are!” Joe argued, reaching out and grabbing your wrist. “Most wouldn’t agree,” you succumbed to Joe’s warm kindness and let him pull you closer. You looked down at how Joe intertwined his fingers with yours. “You should see the things they’re saying,” your voice was tiny and it shocked more worry into Joe. “Who?” Joe leant down a little, his face moving to find your line of sight to make you look at him.  “Them. Online! I know I shouldn’t look- you said I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it!” you huffed, defeated, chest heaving with anger still. You were scared to elaborate much further. You knew Joe hated that success in his career also could negatively affect whoever he was close to, so you really didn’t want to press it. It would just make him feel awful. But Joe understood and it hurt his heart. It didn’t need further explaining. He embraced you as you just stood there, arms down by your sides, overtly aware of your chest pressing up against his. “Come on,” Joe moved your arms to his back, “Hug me back.”. You weakly left your hands where Joe had placed them, and you felt frustration-tears at the sides of your eyes. “Tightly!” Joe whined at you, and you obliged. You clasped your hands around your own tensed arms behind him and squeezed his ribs tightly. The pressure of your touches made the tears escape your eyes and you nuzzled your face into Joe’s chest. Then Joe reached behind you and opened the drawer you had just shut moments before, taking out the pile of paper and turning you around in his grip. Hovering over you from behind, his head heavy on your shoulder, one hand still around your waist, he guided you to the bin in the kitchen. One of his feet pressed down on the paddle, opening it in front of you. And then instead of throwing everything in himself, he pressed it all into your hands. “You don’t need it.” Joe spoke into your ear before kissing you on the patch of skin just below it, both his hands now firmly around you, holding you up. You frowned, and hesitated. Joe picked up on it immediately. “These,” his hands found your boobs, and you caved your chest inward slightly. “Are so fucking pretty.” Joe’s voice was deep, aroused, as he spoke in a near whisper and a groan slipped out right next to your ear. You dropped all that you were holding, most of it missed the bin completely, but it didn’t matter. You turned to find his lips with your own. And Joe made sure to pay extra attention to show his appreciation of you. He needed you to feel his worship of you in your bones. He roughly pushed your top up, yanking your bra up over your chest as well. His lips and teeth scraped the hot skin of your chest, tongue swirling and leaving wet trails across them. He covered you in kisses and nibbled at your nipples as your head fell back in pleasure, moans escaping your throat. Before you knew it, Joe had picked you up with strong arms and slung you lazily over his shoulder. It made you shriek, trying your best to hold onto Joe so he wouldn’t drop you as he made his way over to the bedroom. There he let you fall onto the bed. Joe put a knee down either side of you, and for a moment, just looked at you through half-lidded eyes as you smiled back at him.

“Perfect.”     

[bbgem329]

Where’s My Love?—Chapter Seven

Parings—Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary

Two years ago, you and your husband built a life for your growing family at a safe camp during a world wide apocalypse. Everything is good until Bucky catches wind that a rival group is out to dominate the rest for their own gain.

What happens when, one day, the most capable men and your husband are out on a hunt when the camp is attacked? Will you be able to get your children and your heavily pregnant self to safety? Will Bucky find you before it’s too late?

Warnings

MINORS DNI!!! 18++. Language. Violence. Zombies. Apocalypse. Pregnancy. Labor. Angst. Blood, gore. Mentions of death. Strong! Mama!Reader. Did I miss anything?

Note!!!

Thanks for your patience and support. This was somewhat unedited so bare with me !! 🥰

Series Masterlist

—————

This could not be happening.

Breathe. Just breathe.

There was absolutely no way.

Inhale. One. Two. Thre-

Maybe if you willed it away–ignored the truth, it would just go away.

Exhale. One. Two. Three-

If only that were the case.

In…

But mother nature always was a ruthless bitch. And the pain rippling through your abdomen wasn’t something that you could easily ignore.

Out!!!

As much as you wanted to pretend it was just Braxton hicks, you’d been through this before and knew your body well enough to know better.

Leave it to you to go into labor at a time like this.

Breathe. Nice and slow.

Bucky’s kids, for whatever reason, always did have a thing for dramatics. It shouldn’t surprise you that this one would pick a time like this to make their entrance into the world.

“Mama, okay?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying desperately to breathe steadily and slowly through your nose. If you opened your mouth, there was no biting back a groan and you didn’t want to alarm the kids.

They were already scared and confused as it is.

They didn’t need to see you like this, especially not right now.

“Mama’s okay.” You choked out, wrapping your arm around Becca as she leaned into your side, her little head resting on your shoulder.

The contractions were getting closer and closer together, coming on stronger now. You’d been up all night–partially because of the pain but mostly to keep watch as your babies fitfully slept on top of you.

You were lucky enough to come across some sort of cave type thing as the sun began to set last night and you knew better than to push your luck. Your babies needed to sleep a little after you put Rosie to rest.

So not only were you exhausted and in pain, but you were emotionally wrung out too.

With the stress, trauma, and physical exhaustion, it shouldn’t have surprised you this much to find yourself heading in the direction of full blown, active labor. Those attributes were a very well known catalyst to unexpected, fast and hard labor.

And with this being your third…

You needed to move now.

Having a baby out in the open, in the woods just might actually be the death of you.

Literally.

“Jamie.” You called gently, wiping away at the sweat beading your forehead. You needed to get it together. Between the two of them, he would be the most aware if something were off. “Jamie, baby. It’s time to wake up.”

Your hand found his head resting atop your thigh, face squished snuggly against your belly. You called his name one more time, fingers combing gently through his tousled locks.

“Don’t wanna wake up.” He grumbled, “So comfy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, thumb brushing affectionately along the curve of his jaw as he pressed a little kiss against where his youngest sibling lay. Even in the darkest of times–one of the worst days of all of your lives, and your little boy still managed to shine the brightest light down on it.

“I know but we gotta get moving, Jay.” You wiggled your leg, his pillow, “If we want to beat daddy to the new house, we should go now.”

Make it a race–make it a game.

They didn’t need to be burdened with this yet. They’d been through more than enough in the past few days and they were probably too young to understand what was happening with their momma anyways.

Just as you leaned forward to help Jamie to his feet, that familiar tightening twinged in your lower back and rippled across your abdomen. You lurched forward, shoulder hunched as a low groan slipped past your lips.

“Momma!”

Fuck.

Jamie jumped to his feet, a frantic, wild look in his eyes. Never before had he looked so much like his dad and that was saying something, seeing as they were practically twins.

“What’s wrong?” He hesitantly lifted his hand to your cheek, pressing himself close to your side, “Are you hurt?”

When you didn’t respond, too busy trying to breath through the pain, he turned to his little sister, “Becca, what’s wrong with mom?”

The two year old gave a little shrug, patting your shoulder on the other side. “Don’t know.”

You were squished between your kids, both of them rubbing and patting at you, clearly concerned but all you could focus on was the pain and the way your entire body pulled tight.

In.

Out.

You didn’t have the strength to handle this.

Would it be better to stay and wait this out, give birth to the baby here in this cave? Or did you risk venturing out, and hopefully have the baby in the safety of your own home?

Traveling with a baby was a risk of its own. You had no supplies to help if something went wrong, nothing for the baby to wear to protect from the elements. It would be harder to protect Jamie and Becca out here, not while trying to quietly deliver a baby.

And it would be harder for Bucky to find you.

You’d ventured off the path to find shelter for the night and even though it wasn’t that far off the main road, you knew him. His mind would be focused solely on the original plan in place, he’d trust you to follow his directions and go straight to the new house.

To be there when he returned.

You couldn’t imagine the panic he’d go through if he arrived at an empty home.

He would absolutely come and find you, and he’d succeed eventually but you didn’t want to think about the state he’d find you in when he did.

No.

You needed to go. You needed to try.

And you couldn’t hide this from the babies—from Jamie. He needed to be somewhat in the loop just in case something went wrong.

You didn’t want to scare him anymore than he needed to be.

“Jamie.” You called, trying to keep your voice calm and soft. “Listen to me carefully. You do not need to worry but momma is in labor, okay?” You tilted your head towards him, hand lifting to cradle his chin, “Do you remember when we talked about what that is and what that means?”

His bottom lip jutted out in a small frown, bright blue eyes tracing over your face, “It means that my baby brother and sister is coming.”

“Yes.” You nodded, forcing a small smile, “You’re so smart. And I need you to know that it might be a little scary and I’ll be honest with you that momma is going to be in some pain,” You took a deep breath, brushing your thumb tenderly along his jawline. “I might cry a little and groan but it’s completely normal, alright?”

He gave you a hesitant nod, bottom lip worried between his teeth.

“I need you to help me take care of your little sister,” You gave Becca a little squeeze, eyes flickering between their fear filled faces. “We need to move quickly, we don’t have much longer until we make it to the house. I need both of you to put on your best listening ears and we are going to try really, really hard to keep our lips zipped,” You made the motion, drawing your fingers across your lips, “And our feet quiet.”

It broke you just a little bit inside to see them like this.

Worried. Unsure. Scared.

They shouldn’t need to worry about things like this, they should be worried about things like what cool t-shirt they were gonna wear today or fighting over little things like blocks and who got to take a bath first each night.

Not this.

Anything but this.

“Okay, momma.” Jamie spoke up, and you watched with a baited breath as he put on a brave face. “I’ll protect you and sissy until daddy gets back.”

The determination in his voice made you want to cry.

Your brave baby boy.

As much as you hated to put that on him, you knew you could count on him.

You tightened your arms around both of them, squishing them to you in a very much needed embrace, “I love you both so much.” You pressed a quick kiss to each of their heads, “We are going to be strong. We are going to be brave. And we are going to be okay.”

“I love you, momma.”

“Love you.”

It didn’t take long for you to pack everything up. As much as you wanted to strap Becca to your back, you knew you couldn’t handle it right now, not in the state you were in. Instead you took Becca’s hand and she took Jamie’s and you led them out of the safety of the cave and into the woods with Bucky’s gun held in your free hand.

Luckily for you, it was a short walk to the road. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes and you hadn’t had a contraction yet which meant there was still time.

You could make it you were sure.

Maybe it was Braxton hicks after all.

You really couldn’t be far, a few hours down the road and then you would cut into the woods where he said and everything would be fine.

But the moment you pushed through the bush and out into the clearing, your gut dropped into your ass.

You only had a second to react, you scooped Becca up and pushed Jamie back the way you came with a command to run.

But you knew it was too late, you’d been spotted by more than a handful of the dead and they were coming for you. The growls and heavy steps storming behind you could attest to that.

With your gun positioned behind you and half a glance back over your shoulder, you started firing aimlessly over your shoulder.

It didn’t matter that the sounds of the shots might draw more.

It didn’t matter that Becca’s screams would no doubt be heard even miles away.

All that mattered was now.

Picking them off and getting you and your babies away from the twenty or so stumbling after you through the woods.

“Stay ahead of me, Jamie but don’t go too far.”

“I’m scared, momma.” Jamie screeched, “What do we do?”

“Run, baby.” You urged, “Don’t look back. Everything will be okay!”

How many more times would you say that before it finally became a lie?

No.

You’d make it the truth.

You wouldn’t go down without a fight.

You wouldn’t let your babies die.

—————

“It’s alright.” You cooed softly, praying to whatever God above that your babies didn’t notice the unmistakable tremble in your voice. The words felt heavy on your tongue as they fell quickly from your lips and left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t necessarily a lie but you couldn’t be sure it was the truth either. “Everything is going to be okay.”

The inhuman groans and grunts echoed throughout the darkened forest behind you, the heavy, shuffling steps pounding steadily after you, closing in with every brutal second that passed.

You don’t know how long you’ve been running, if you could even call it that at this point. All day, according to the darkness that had settled over the sky, you’d been dragging yourself and your babies through the woods.

You’d lost most of the dead. Picked them off one by one but there were a few stragglers after you and you knew you couldn’t take them down anymore.

Not on your own.

Not in this state.

Not without any bullets in your gun.

Your grip on your son’s hand tightened, pulling him gently but desperately along with you, your other arm cradling your crying daughter to your chest.

You couldn’t let go–you wouldn’t, afraid that if you did they’d disappear for good right before your very eyes.

You wouldn’t survive then. Not without them.

“I want daddy.” Jamie sobbed out, his little legs stumbling and wobbling with every step over the uneven, rough ground. “I'm scared, momma.”

“It’s okay, baby.” You croaked out, tears welling up in your eyes and your heart clenching painfully in your chest. “Daddy’s coming. He’s coming, okay? We just have to keep going and he will find us.”

How could you expect him to be brave when you weren’t feeling very brave yourself?

You’d never been so scared in your twenty seven years of life and you wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, at least then you wouldn’t have to watch your children be eaten alive.

You had no other choice but to push through, if not for yourself, then for the three other innocent lives depending solely on you.

You bit back a cry, teeth digging harshly into your bottom lip as a sharp pain tore through your swollen abdomen, core tightening and pulsing as your body prepared itself for labor. The ache was quickly followed by a familiar, unwelcomed gush of liquid between your thighs, soaking your overalls from the waist down.

It was just a matter of time. You’d been ignoring it all day.

If you wanted this baby to survive you would need to stop to push. You could already feel the need rising up from within, the contractions were now minutes apart and growing longer and harsher.

“We’re almost there.” You mumbled, thighs beginning to shake with the strain of every step. The pressure rising and tightening rapidly within your naval as the baby within your womb slipped further down, ready to come out and into this cruel world. “Daddy’s coming and we’re almost there.”

“South down eighth street,” He whispered, lips skimming gently up the slope of your neck, full beard rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin there. “Once you reach the yellow fire hydrant about fifteen meters down, take a sharp left into the woods.” He tightened his grip on either side of your hips, dragging you back until your back was pressed to his broad chest, hands brushing tenderly over your growing bump. “From there it’s a straight shot. I set solar lights up to guide you to the fence, you can’t miss ‘em.”

Bucky’s voice rang persistently in your head, urging you on and forward.

You had to be close.

You’d followed his directions and found the path of lights. Any moment now the cottage he’d been building you would come into sight.

But perhaps not soon enough.

You didn’t want to imagine what he must be feeling, the desperation and guilt weighing down on him as he fought to find you.

Or worse, how he’d fall apart if he found your bodies in the aftermath—torn to shreds or turned.

Jamie let out a blood curdling scream as he was yanked back, the force of it dragging you along and sending you tumbling full force to the ground. You landed harshly on your back, gasping for air as the wind was knocked from your lungs.

“No.” You cried out, flipping up on your hands and knees to scramble after him. The desperation to save your baby boy overriding the pain tearing through your swollen belly and the dread clouding your mind. “Jamie.”

You would never forget the look of pure terror in his cerculean eyes or the sound of his screams as the diseased, bloody figure clawed at his little kicking legs.

Without a second thought, you snatched a nearby rock off the ground beside you, throwing it as hard as you could at its head. It was enough of a distraction and it released its hold on your son long enough for you to pull him back and behind you.

Jamie pressed himself into your back, burying his face in your shirt as he sobbed uncontrollably. The shakes and tremble of his little body mirroring your own.

The creature snarled before lunging at you, you only had a moment to brace yourself, hands scrambling for something, anything to defend yourselves with. Before you could blink, the thing was on you, pinning you to the ground.

You grasped the walker’s shoulders, holding it away, knees pressing into its abdomen to maintain a distance as Jamie cried out in pain beneath you and Becca screamed from where she rested on your chest.

“Help.” You cried out, though you knew it was pointless—reckless even. The excessive noise would only lure more within a three mile radius. “God, Help. Please.”

Your life flashed before your eyes and that of your childrens.

They didn’t deserve this. They still had so much life to live.

They didn’t deserve to die. Especially like this.

A heartbreaking sob tore through your chest, arms shaking with strain and the urge to push hitting your tenfold. You were losing your strength, you couldn’t hold it off for much longer.

This was it.

You were going to die.

Your son, your daughter, and unborn baby too.

“I love you.” You choked out, “Momma loves you and she’s so sorry.”

You turned your head to the side, eyes clenched shut as a copious amount of drool and blood slipped out of the creature's mouth and landed with a disgusting plop against your cheek. You could feel your arms beginning to buckle as its chomping nips neared closer.

But then your eyes opened to meet the soft, direct glow of the solar light. A quick glance between the creature above you and the tip of the light buried in the ground, and you only had a second to decide.

One hand slipped from its shoulder to grab at the stick as it barred down on you. You wiggled as best as you could away from its harsh bite, kicking at it with all your might.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as your fingers wrapped around the stem of the light, yanking from the ground with a determined cry just as the creature moved to sink its teeth into your babygirl.

—————

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[nexusnyx]

Idea for a shuri fic: maybe a tchalla and nakia moment with shuri and y/n where she goes to rescue y/n and freezes when she sees her

i'm obsessed with the moment when t'challa freezes in front of nakia so of course i had to deliver this one. thanks a lot for the request <3 | shuri x f!reader ; 0.7k

Adrenaline rushed through her whole body—everything enhanced in her vision. Shuri could spot a snowflake from a mile away with the way blood rushed through her veins, but all she could think about was Okoye's words.

"Kingi will be your way out."

"Kingi?! Since when is she working the fields again? I thought she left Wakanda for the diplomatic—"

"Shuri. I will tell you everything you want to know in boring detail when we're coming back. Now is not the time. Kingi is your way out. Do not leave the premises without the vial. And most importantly... do not freeze when you see her."

Freeze?! Shuri lifted a single finger, held back from a scoff, and dropped out of the airplane with the sound of Okoye's laughter in her ears. She did not freeze.

Except—she did, maybe.

A couple of times (not that anyone was counting). Both of them were justifiable by a lot of means, the more that she thought about it.

"How do you know I froze?" Shuri had no recollections of Okoye being present in either one of the first times.

In her ear, she heard a dry chuckle. Disbelief, she imagined. "This is what you're thinking about right now?"

"I'm curious."

"You're in the middle of a mission."

Now Shuri laughed. "Please, Okoye." Taking candy out of children was harder than this—Shuri would know. You worked at a school with Nakia for the past two years, and she dared coming around sometimes. Children could be devious. "I'm serious—who's telling on my every move to you, hm? That's kind of disrespectful."

"No one told me anything, you whiny baby. I've seen the way you act like a doofus whenever she entered the room on the last Day of Bast. Puffing out your chest. Walking slower..."

That proved nothing. Shuri scoffed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She pretended that Okoye stayed silent, the same way she pretended to not know.

It was impossible not to know.

Shuri imagined that if her mother was alive, she'd be endlessly mocked by now. Very few people knew this about Ramonda, but the ruthless tongue served for sarcastic remarks and the most terrible (best) jokes possible.

She imagined that she would've heard some words of encouragement, too. A little bit of pushing. Of prodding. Of "the doe eyes are cute, but will do nothing for you in the long run" too.

Right there and then — blasting around seven men up in the air — Shuri decided she would not freeze.

It had been months since she'd last seen you—months since the day of the funeral, the week of the Coronation, times when you spent by her side in a silent shadow, as quiet and as comforting as you.

She saw very little of you back then, but it was enough to give her strength for and maybe hope for better days.

This time, Shuri would... flirt.

She would say something witty, something smart to get your attention, and maybe laughter.

With the vial in hands, Shuri starts searching.

Malo Kingi. The small and incredibly deadly jellyfish—no one sees it coming, and next thing they know—

sting.

It was beautiful.

There were you—gods.

"Hello, Panther."

Shuri's body is eight, maybe ten feet away from you, and you would never in a million years do anything to hurt her, but she might as well have been one of your victims.

Stung by the sight of you in her creation—the jade green and black suit did wonders for you, and Bast, how can she find the words when this what you do to her?

"Shall we?" you ask.

Shuri nods, breaking the spell on her body motions.

She froze. Again.

When you pass by her side, your hands brush on her fingers, and she feels it on the tip of her claws as if something electric touched her.

She might've frozen, but it's okay. When she takes off the mask, so do you.

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[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑

( YOU CLAIM THE SAINT, BUT IT'S THE SINNERS YOU NEED. )

chara : ada wong fandom : resident evil quote cr : the rigs

there is a betrayal and loyalty that lies in wait : a siren, an alluring, and something entirely human beneath it all. you do not understand ada, know her heart to be ruthless and kind all at once. it is a mess of oppositions, oxymorons, and unease and suspicion, yet there is a strange comfort in the knowing of her existence, even if it may be through superficial means.

you feel something : a presence, distinct, a shift in the air, a foreshadowing of what's to come, and there is something that jolts through your body, alerts you of an incoming danger. suddenly close, then gone. fleeting.

cool metal against your skin. you recognize this sensation all too well. your breath hitches, but you force yourself to forget fear. a smile falls upon your lips ; you tilt your head up, almost lazily, raise both of your hands in seemingly polite surrender.

"your hands aren't shaking this time. you're getting better at this."

"thank you, lovely ada. i'm trying."

your eyes meet. your jaw clenches, and she notices this. you're on edge, right where she wants you. her visage is unreadable, almost cold, but the lightest of smiles graces her lips, amusement in brown eyes. the blade no longer meets flesh, but one wrong move and it could lead to your end.

"lovely?" she tilts her head, plays up that feign curiosity. "cute nickname."

"a generous one, really." your hands fall to your sides. you don't plan to hurt her, just as she doesn't plan to hurt you. "you can put down the knife, you know. there are better ways to announce yourself. like saying hi, for example."

"meet and greet isn't my style." steel against delicate skin. pressure. she leans forward ever so slightly, that familiar smirk blossoming on red hues. it's almost too close for comfort yet not enough-- the way her lips are only inches from yours. and she stays there, waits. she's thinking. watching. "you'll get used to it."

you hold your breath instinctively, but she notes the way you swallow hard, divert your gaze. you're neither relieved nor resentful at this little reunion, and in truth, you've hit a wall in the mission, found yourself at a loss. she always knows more than she lets on. she could help you-- if she wanted to.

the pressure eases. the air shifts once more, twists from a taunting to something almost somber. she puts the knife down once you force your gaze back onto her, turns on her heel and starts to walk. with a delicate lift of the hand, she gestures you to follow, doesn't even bother to see if you'll chase after her.

she knows you will. you always do.

"you're coming with me." the words are flat, but a sense of command lingers. "need to borrow you real quick. don't worry," she begins offhandedly, looking over her shoulder with an all too amused countenance, "i'll bring you back to leon. he'll learn how to survive a few minutes without you."

you almost choke on your saliva. you clear your throat, albeit a little more dramatically than intended as if to disregard your shock at the last few sentences. oh, you really missed her and didn't miss her. you stay in place, weigh your options. you could make a breakthrough in this operation, find out additional information from her, or you could continue to go in circles, endless, and end up in this hellhole for longer than either one of you would like.

you close your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose, swallow the fragments of remaining pride and frustration. god, you hate it here. you do. but you choose to follow her anyway, steps slow and heavy, pretend you don't see the way she smiles once you get moving.

( you need her just as much as she needs you, and you both know this. )

[pastrydragon]

Fixing Yona from TOTK

We can redeem her in the DLC she just needs some tweaking

And by tweaking I mean I'm totally retconning her personality but in a way that makes sense so bare with me here:

I want to make Yona protagonistically and enjoyably Evil

What does that mean? you ask. It means I want her to be a ruthless, conniving bitch of the first degree but completely on Sidon and Link's side!

I want all that "I'm just here to help" "My Darling Sidon!" bullshit to have been an act. Not that she doesn't care about Sidon, she does, but more like "This is my pet Himbo, isn't he adorable?" than "Love of my life" kinda thing. How she acted in game was just, so saccharine and fake. Like this is a crafted person, not a real one. AND I CAN SPIN THAT INTO AN ADVANTAGE WITH THIS DLC.

Because the Zora are so used to their utterly benevolent and optimistic royal family that Yona slipping in even a little of her own personality could threaten her crown. The Zora are used to their prince and princess being helpful and likable so Yona needs to pretend to be those things too in order to earn enough approval to become queen.

And she's a good fucking choice for queen for them! I love Sidon, I do, he's best boy. The guy is honorable and kind and brave. That's the problem. He's too soft to what other people want and doesn't want to see the bad in people. He was obviously uncomfortable with the idea of marrying Yona but went along with it because it's what others wanted from him, and he was immediately trusting of link in BOTW and let the guy fire shock arrows from his back. shock arrows that could kill him almost immediately if he gets hit. Sidon isn't stupid, but he is undeniably a little naive to be king to a kingdom that will suddenly be reintroduced to international diplomacy and proper trade after 100ish years.

And while I think he's perfect for face to face diplomacy, the actual minutia of international dealings will probably be a bit too much for him. Yona, as his Evil Royal Advisor™ would be sitting there smiling sweetly while going over written trade proposals with a red pen. And I do think Evil Royal Advisor™ is the right dynamic here. They do NOT have chemistry, but she absolutely wants Sidon to succeed at any cost. And you need someone like that in your corner when you're made of marshmallow and want everyone else to succeed first.

Of course Sidon carries Yona through this just as much. Yona being in Queen mode is probably exhausting and Sidon would be able to spirit her away from any conversation or event with the excuse of needing her advice or attention and then stand in the hallway with her for ten minutes while she vents before she has to glide back in and put her game face back on. He tells her how well she's doing, how much she's improving things and how much he values her. Evil Royal Advisor™ unit requires regular feeding of ego to function properly.

And her being evil EXPLAINS WHY SIDON NEVER MENTIONED HER IN BOTW! Because she probably didn't pretend around him back then and he remembers her as a horrible little demon, fuck she probably bullied his ass a little(Out of affection) when they were babies. And Sidon wouldn't want to talk about her because he'd have to skip over too much stuff to still be honest. Or talk about the time Yona put frogs in his sleeping pond during the night and he was so surprised when he woke up to them that he shrieked like a banshee and everyone came running to find him freaking out over a damn frog. That shit is embarrassing.

Note: I'm writing this DLC quest to be like something I think Nintendo would seriously write, so dialogue might seem a little over the top or silly at times.

Stage 1:

For the DLC reveal I'd have the quest line "Bride In Black" start with her asking you during the day cycle to get her 15 thunderwing butterflies. She's stockpiling shock resistant potions for emergencies you see. Afterward she'll give you 100 rupees and tell you to go visit Sidon since "He's been stressed lately and would love to see his best friend!" how thoughtful!

Stage 2:

Speak to Sidon who will be searching for something by the big waterfall. He'll explain after some prodding that Yona has been disappearing at night and he's only been able to follow her as far as here before she seems to disappear. He's tried talking to her about it but she always manages to change the subject or be needed elsewhere when he brings it up. He's concerned for her safety and wellbeing as monsters still roam around the domain's borders. At the end of the dialogue he decides to let it go and trust she knows what she's doing. Link gets his quest updated anyway.

Stage 3:

If Link goes to the bottom of the big waterfall at the beginning of the night cycle and crouches in the bushes then Yona will appear mumbling to herself. Equip the stealth set and follow her as quietly as possible, making sure you don't get too loud or too close or she'll realize she's being followed and disappear, the player will then have to wait for the next night cycle to try again. this stage is very similar to the side quest where you follow Mila around in Zelda Windwaker. Except near the end of the following Yona is briefly attacked by a lazalfos, she calmly kills it by throwing a purple bottle at it that causes it to die in a puff of acrid smoke. Yona casually continues on with a "Fufufufu~" speech bubble above her head. Soon she approaches an odd tree which she pours a potion on, the tree shrivels away and a hidden cave is revealed! she enters.

Stage 4:

Link enters after her "Yona's Lair" appears on the screen announcing it as the area's name. inside the cave the player can hear Yona's new theme(Which is her old theme backwards and played on what sounds like a pipe organ and a synthesizer). there's a short hallway before the cave opens up into a big circular room with a cauldron in the middle, filled with suspicious purple ooze. the walls are decorated with what appear to be tacked up potion recipes and detailed drawings of dissected monster parts. Some recipes have the classic skull and crossbones on them for aesthetic. Link approaches Yona (who is writing at an oddly stained desk with another "Fufufufu~" speech bubble above her head.) Press A while close to start a cutscene.

Cutscene:

Yona turns around, shocked to see Link and begins to scream at him "HOW DID YOU FIND ME YOU DIRTY GOBLIN!?" she tries switching back to Queen mode for a few seconds "I-I mean how ever did you find me Link?" she sighs resignedly after a few moments and says "Oh, no point now. You've seen my hobby, there's no fooling you anymore." Yona's character animations change so she's standing with a hand on her hip and her mouth in a toothy grin as opposed to her old demure idle animation. Her green and purple aesthetic looks more at home among the dark and potion bottles, and her devil/parasite horns look much more natural with her head held high and teeth on display. "I almost wish I were dumb enough to try and fight you, but I know I'd lose once I ran out of ammo. And I can't bribe someone like you to stay quiet, so, I suppose this might be it for my little stint as queen. Just do me a favor? Give Sidon the yellow potions on the table for me? I do care about the dumb lummox, and I just know he's going to throw himself in front of some lightning shooting monster one of these days and get himself killed."

"I KNEW IT!" Sidon has appears seemingly angry at the entrance to the lair to shock animations from Link and Yona "I knew you were faking! I thought I was going crazy misremembering our friendship, but you've just gotten better at that act of yours." Sidon laughs "You have no idea how relieved I am, I felt like I was talking to a stranger all these months, it's wonderful you haven't actually changed. I think... Well I'm happy to have my old friend back, even if you do start throwing bugs at me again."

Yona returns to her new idle animation from her shocked one. "You CANNOT be serious Crydon, I knew you were sappy but letting someone like me stick around is just silly! You really are going to go and get yourself killed with all that blind optimism."

Sidon laughs again "I knew I remembered that nickname too! And why wouldn't I let you stick around? Sure, you're a bit... Abrasive at times, and we certainly don't always agree on how to do things, but you're my friend and I care for you! Just because you act in odd ways, or show your affection differently doesn't mean I'm going to get rid of you. You may have teased me when we were little, but you were always there for me when I needed someone to help me or tell me the truth. I remember you called me stupid for losing my favorite toy then you spent all night looking for it while I cried myself to sleep. And I remember you telling me Mipha needed to heal soldiers and couldn't spend time with me instead of telling me she'd be coming back any minute. Then you'd be the one to heal me when I got hurt and you tried to do all the other things I did with Mipha to cheer me up, even though you hated most of those games." Sidon now looks much sadder. "But I don't want you to be Mipha, I want my old friend back. The one that knew when to tell me I was being reckless and when I wasn't believing in myself enough. The one that would steal my sweets then give me her salty snacks later because she knew I liked those better anyway. The one that solved problems, and did the jobs no one else wanted to do but needed to be done. I miss that friend, and I would very much like her back."

Yona is silent for a moment before the player hears a "Fufufufu~" sound effect. "Fufufufu~ my new husband sure knows how to make a girl feel special." Sidon has a brief embarrassed animation before Yona starts speaking again "I'm just teasing you Crydon, I'll stay to keep you from from selling the kingdom for magic beans or whatever nonsense you'd have gotten up to without me." Yona turns to face Link "Assuming this silent menace can keep my hobby, and my charming personality, to himself?"

At this point the player gets the dialogue options of

"Of course!"

Or

"Fine, but I'm watching you!"

Depending on the players choice Yona will either comment on Link's similarity to Sidon, or commend him for being sensible about the situation.

"In any case, you need to buzz off for a while so I can finish my potion and so Crydon and I have a chance to catch up for real. But come back tomorrow night and I'll have something to help you on your little adventure."

At this the cutscene ends and the screen goes dark before Link is transported to the front of the cave at the beginning of the day cycle. Yona's Lair cannot be accessed during the day.

Stage 5:

Talking to Sidon during the day cycle after the cutscene will trigger some thankful flavor dialogue and Sidon will reveal he was following Link the entire time last night after seeing him follow Yona past the waterfall. Link wasn't focused on not being spotted from behind after all.

Talking to Yona during the day cycle will not get new dialogue and she will have changed back to her original animations during the day.

Going back to Yona's Lair at night will result in a short dialogue where Yona thanks Link for "Being a nosy little creep I guess." The player will then have access to Yona's potion shop. The shop sells some randomized normal potions that vary in duration every night. It will also have Poison Bottles. Poison bottles can be thrown at enemies or attached to arrows and will do damage over time to any enemy it hits for 60 seconds. low level monsters will be killed instantly and mid level will likely die on their own in the 60 seconds. But the potions best use is against high HP enemies that don't give the player a lot of opportunity to get a hit in. The poison bottle require both money and monster parts to make so they really should be saved for when Link is in a pinch.

[15minlatewithbatbucks]

no choice but to love you pt. 14 (LONG)

FIRST | SECOND | THIRD | FOURTH | FIFTH | SIXTH | SEVENTH | EIGHTH | NINTH | TENTH | ELEVENTH | TWELFTH | THIRTEENTH

AO3 Link (a little behind, but better edited)

Their waitress swooped in and saved them from their heavy conversation. True to her word, Janet ordered chicken tenders for Tim and Bruce ordered Jason’s cheeseburger. He made sure to stipulate honey mustard to the waitress for Tim and nobly ignored Janet’s little laugh when he ordered himself a salad.

“You don’t have to impress me,” Janet teased as the waitress hurried off to put in their order. “You’re making me look bad as a woman.”

Because thoughtlessly speaking was an epidemic in his family, Bruce found himself saying, “You know, I’ve been told that I would look very attractive if I were a woman.”

That surprised a laugh out of her and prompted him to double down.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Talia said with my jawline I could pull off a very impressive resting bitch face.”

“I hate to say it, but she’s right,” she laughed, but it was forced now. Intentionally casual, she asked, “Is Talia… taking this alright?”

“She’s mocking me relentlessly,” he admitted. “But she knows the whole thing was… a happy accident. She knows that there’s no way I could ever regret that night knowing what came from it.”

“Almost nothing,” she said and took a long sip of water, eyes finding Tim where he was leaning against Jason and jabbering at him. They really did look like brothers. “With the implant, it was really… really touch and go. I was considered a high risk pregnancy pretty much from day one.”

Bruce didn’t tell her that he already knew all that from his illicit deep dive into her medical files. Instead, he quietly said, “But he made it. You gave birth to a wonderful boy.”

“I don’t regret him. Sometimes I think my life would have been easier if I hadn’t…” She trailed off and turned towards the window instead. Bruce politely pretended that he didn’t see her face screw up in a flash of misery. “I must seem like a monster.”

“Your feelings or thoughts in your darkest moments don’t define you, Janet. Tim is a happy and healthy child and you’re working to make sure he has stability even when your life is destabilizing,” Bruce reminded her. “I know it’s hurting you to be cast as, er. As my baby’s, um, mama.”

Janet snorted, feeling a little unhinged.

“But you’re putting aside your own feelings and risking the tabloid’s wrath so he can know me and my side of the family. I wish you’d told me when you first realized he was mine, but I understand why you didn’t. I can only thank you for letting me know him now and I promise we’ll get through this.”

“I’ve been living in fear of the paparazzi,” she confessed. “I know I never wanted to baby trap you and I hope you do too, but who else would believe it when the gold-digging whore is such a prevalent trope? They’re going to be ruthless.”

“My lawyers and PR people are at your disposal,” he promised.

“My hero,” she said wryly and her deadpan humor got Bruce smiling bashfully, hiding his little grin behind a glass of water. While he had no desire to further complicate Janet’s life, it was easy to remember what drew him to Janet all those years ago. Her competence and staunch refusal to act impressed by the Bruce Wayne was refreshing, as was her frankly superior ability to hold her liquor.

She continued, unaware of Bruce’s woolgathering. “Honestly, I just wish the other shoe would hurry and drop. I’ve been checking the news and all the popular gossip sites just about every other minute expecting to see Tim’s face.”

No. Absolutely not.

“I would sue the shit out of them. I’ve made it abundantly clear to any news outlet in Gotham that they are more than welcome to pester me or Talia or, hell, Alfred, but if any of them come after my kids I’ll own them.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “You can’t sue the entire internet.”

“I can sue enough of them to scare the rest into compliance and I have the personal number of every social media mogul on the scene.”

“And who said money wasn’t a superpower,” she joked. Then mimed a finger gun with a hangdog smile. “Or you could take the Lex Luthor route. Remember the personal trainer?”

“I have standards. And besides, all of that is alleged.”

“Oh, sure. You could allegedly bump off all the people you don’t like,” she said with a nod. If she weren’t so clearly joking, Bruce would almost be worried about her joining his rogues should all of this go south. “Although I guess he doesn’t allegedly disappear all of his critics. That journalist Lane is still out there on the front lines writing exposes.”

“Oh, are you a fan?”

“I could feed you a line about being really passionate about journalistic integrity, but honestly I’m just a big fan of hot women being very mean to ultra rich assholes,” she explained.

“You know, I’ve gone out with her a time or two. She’s a lovely woman.” At Janet’s vaguely impressed look, he laughed. “Unsurprisingly, she found me intolerable.”

“Oh no,” Janet commiserated, patting his hand sympathetically. “I guess you’ll just have to settle for the ultra beautiful Talia al Ghul instead. That’s so sad, Bruce. My heart bleeds for you.”

“Thank you, it’s a hard life. But then again, I’ve been told I don’t have to settle for just the exquisite Talia.”

Janet grinned at him, eyes crinkling with mirth. While no one was stupid enough to doubt Bruce’s commitment to Talia, there were plenty of tongues still wagging over Bruce’s continued womanizing. Even after Talia’s now infamous statement on his “infidelity”.

“We have been nothing short of transparent with one another from the very beginning. He’s told me that when I stop fucking other women, he’ll stop fucking other women. It seems very reasonable, no?”

“She seems like a… large personality.”

“She is. I’d love for the two of you to meet.” If only so Talia could give Janet her number directly and stop trawling through her background check.

(“She doesn’t speak with her father, but he lives in Kentucky. Do you suppose they had a falling out?” to “Her mother passed when she was very young.” to “Bruce, I believe that every paper the Drake ‘co-authored’ were written entirely by Janet.”)

“She wants to meet you soon,” he added when Janet made a panicked sort of face. “I know you’re worried about her, but she’d taking all of this very well.” And possibly plotting Janet’s seduction. “Even if she’s being a little melodramatic over becoming a step-mother.”

“Oh no. I should get her one of those awful step did shirts. Do you think she’d kill me? Be honest.”

At Bruce’s confusion, she did a quick search on her phone and flipped the screen towards him, giving him a good look at an atrociously designed t-shirt bearing the slogan: I’M NOT THE STEP DAD, I’M THE DAD THAT STEPPED UP.

Bruce’s booming laugh took nearby patrons by surprise and Janet nearly cackled in delight.

“She would hate it,” he said when he could breathe again, wiping mirthful tears. People around them were subtly staring now, likely realizing the Bruce Wayne was in their midst. “I’m going to order her twenty.”

“No, no.” Janet waved her hand, voice still shaky from laughter. “I have to be the one to give it to her. I’ve already had a son with her soulmate. There’s nowhere to go from there but further down.”

“Deal, but you have to give it to her in front of Dick,” he stipulated. “He’ll be unbearable.”

“Okay, now you have to explain. What’s their deal, really? All the gossips say that they don’t get along.”

“They don’t, but it’s not as serious as everyone makes it out to be,” he assured her. There was no way he was going to scare her off with family dysfunction already. “The two of them have a sort of… rivalry. Over me.”

Janet raised a brow.

“Though I’ve technically known Talia longer, Dick has been in my life for the most cumulative time and they can get a little… argumentative over it.”

“Aw, he’s not used to sharing his dad. Cute.”

“He would have the worst tantrum if he heard you say that,” Bruce said. “I’m talking throwing himself to the ground, howling, the whole nine yards.”

[fang-and-feather]

👻, 👪, 🌙, ❇️, ☄️ and 💓 for Carina, Linet and Yara because I wanna know them better!! Thank youuu!!

You're welcome!! 😁

Some of these may be added to in the future, but that's all I got for them for now:

👻 do they believe in ghosts? what are their "ghostly experiences", if any?

Carina and Yara believe in ghosts. Carina is more discreet about it, but Yara tells anyone about an adventure to the old, abandoned lighthouse when she was a child (Carina was there too, but they pretend she wasn't), and of the bright thing that chased her out making strange sounds. Linet doesn't believe in ghosts, has gone investigating anyway and never saw anything

👪 what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them? does your oc have any siblings?

Carina: She has two siblings, a brother and a sister, both older than her. Her relationship to her siblings and her parents is complicated. As a family, they love each other, but as a royal family, Carina is not good enough of a princess, with her dreams of love and adventure, which makes her relationship with them somewhat distant, especially with her father

Linet: The closes Linet has of family is her godfather, which whom she exchanges letters quite frequently. They have a good relationship but he doesn't aprove of her job choices

Yara: Lives with her mother and younger sister. They are a realy close and supportive family

🌙 what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

Carina: Love. She wants to actually marry someone she loves. She'll challenge her family and get herself in some degree of trouble for that, as long as this trouble doesn't affect the kingdom. Her recent trip might be her last attempt at avoiding an unwanted engagement. She values her freedom and won't give it up until she has no choice. Also to find her missing brother

Linet: Have a simple, peaceful life in the future. She doesn't like fighting. but she took a job as a guard for a reason. It seems silly with how much more peaceful than others the kingdom seems, but things aren't always what they seem. She also wishes to find a place for herself because she always felt a little lost. She is not willing to let innocent people get hurt because of it if possible

Yara: She wants to make something she will be remembered for. Currently it is proving the existence of ghosts, but she is always trying something new. She also wishes for her sister's happiness and safety. She's not willing to kill or betray

❇️ what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

Carina: A small gem found on an adventure as a child, it represents the freedom she had back then and is also a memory of her missing brother

Linet: Her mother's necklace, as a symbol of somewhere she belonged to once, and the sword her godfather gave her when she moved, despite him not wanting her to go, she takes that as a sign he trusts her despite everything

Yara: A similar gem to Carina's, given by the princess herself and a book given by her sister

☄️ what do people assume about them? are they right?

Carina: People easily assume that she, as a princess, is spoiled, arrogant and weak. She can be just a little spoiled, in the sense she can struggle a little without her usual level of comfort, and she can get just a little arrogant when it comes to her knowledge of certain subjects, but neither are in the ways or to the extreme people assume, and she is far from weak, despite not being a fighter

Linet: When they met her in work mode, they believe she is cold and ruthless, and they're wrong. When they know her a little, they assume she is unstable and, as such, not trustworthy, and again they're wrong. People who met her in more casual settings assume she is carefree and has an easy life. Neither are true either.

Yara: People assume that, as a maid, she's stupid, and that she has it easy for working at the castle. Neither are true. People assume her friendship with Carina is not real and she wants something from it, but it's also not true

💓 what gets their heart racing?

(probably stupid question but is this about love? hope so, that's what I'm choosing to go with)

Carina: Small caring gestures and spontaneous stimulating moments, both mental and emotional

Linet: Any loving gesture and shows of kindness

Yara: Supportive gestures and encouragement