‘Serenity’ Prologue

Serenity - Chapter 7

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

She couldn't really remember what had happened. It seemed as if it was all a dream to her. When she woke up she kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath through her nose, letting it out with a hum. She felt as if she was on a cloud, and as if she was wrapped in one and she cradled the blanket closer to her.

She was scared to open her eyes, but she knew she wasn't anywhere familiar by the feeling of it. It was too calm. Too comfortable. The smells were different, the air itself felt different. She decided to relish in it while she could. Never had she been granted the luxury of sleeping on a mattress so weightless.

Then she felt a hand tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and she shot up, immediately regretting it as a wave of pain shot through her skull. She whimpered and sat back in defeat, holding her head in her hands.

"Not the brightest idea, Miss." A feminine voice lightly patronized and Mary felt a cold rag placed over her forehead. "Keep that there for me, please."

"You startled me." She responded simply and did as she was told. She chanced opening her eyes and they widened. She lay in a bedroom, shades of brown and black decorating it. It was spacious and accessorized well, yet still simple. A door across from the bed led to what seemed to be a washroom, and another on the right to wherever she was brought from. "Where am I?"

"The catcher's room, Miss." The blonde began setting out a dress and accessories to go with it, then moving to fix the nearby vanity table. "He brought you in here yesterday afternoon."

"Yesterday -?"

"Been out cold. That mark on your forehead is a nasty one, Miss." The woman took the rag from her. "I was beginning to wonder if it would ever stop bruising."

"Where is he?"

"Who, the catcher?" Mary nodded. "Off schmoozing, no doubt."

"Schmoozing?" The maid sighed.

"Questions, so many questions. Not good for your head." She disappeared into the washroom and the sound of running water echoed from it. "He's requested I treat you, miss. And dare I say you need it - up."

She took Mary by her hands and helped her stand up, carefully guiding her to the washroom. The maid then began untying her dress, but was respectful enough to leave it on her shoulders and turned off the water of the tub.

"I will leave you to undress." The woman then left abruptly, shutting the door behind her. Mary, on the other hand, wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. The water steamed from the bubbled tub which was decorated with an assortment of products she had never used before. She had no idea what half of it even was, and she was thankful the maid was there to help otherwise she would've surely made a fool of herself.

So, Mary undressed and folded everything to put on a nearby shelf, carefully sitting herself in the spacious tub. She let out a sigh as she did so, the hot water easing her tensions from the past few weeks. Probably from her entire life. It let off a delicate smell, floral perhaps. She couldn't quite tell what it was exactly, but the smell alone was soothing enough. Just as Mary laid her head back against the tub the door opened and she jumped up.

"It's just me, miss." The blonde mused as she set a towel and new undergarments on the same shelf and knelt beside the tub, cradling the back of Mary's head to lean her back and wet her hair. She then poured what she assumed was shampoo into her hand and began massaging it into her scalp, smiling when she heard Mary hum. "I take it you're not used to this kind of thing?" She dipped her head again to rinse.

"Not in the slightest." The maid handed Mary a bar of soap who began to lather herself with it, the former moving on to conditioning her hair. "What is your name?" The woman stilled, but Mary wouldn't have even caught it if she hadn't been paying attention.

"Emilia." The woman answered as if she was afraid of it. "But you mustn't call me by my name."

"Mustn't? They don't like it?"

"No one ever calls us by our names unless they specifically want us for something, and for your sake I suggest not standing out." She rinsed out Mary's hair once finished and wrung it out to dry it as much as possible, standing up to grab the towel. "I'm going to take care of your clothes, miss. I'll be back shortly."

Once more, Mary was left to her own devices for the time being. She grabbed the towel, soft yet had enough roughness to do the job. The towel alone could pay her taxes for a whole month. When she finished she put on her undergarments, the soft silk smooth as it ran across her skin. Mary finally cracked open the door, peeking to see if anyone was in the room. Once comfortable she slipped out and made her way over to the bed where a dress lay.

It was medium green and rather simple, but still elegant in its own way. The fabric seemed heavy and weighted, but it was deceiving for when she picked it up it felt as if it was barely heavier than a nightgown. She slipped it on with little effort to find that it fit her perfectly. Almost too perfectly. She did what she could in the back, however futile, and she was relieved when Emilia entered the room.

Almost immediately she was behind Mary, tying the rest of it fluidly. Mary made a noise of discontent at how tight she tugged on a particular section.

"I like breathing, thank you." Emilia just giggled.

"You get used to it, miss."

"Do I have to?" Mary asked incredulously.

"If you plan on staying." She finished tying and guided Mary by the shoulder to sit at the vanity.

"I don't know if I am." Emilia began fiddling with Mary's hair, deciding what to do with it.

"Well, miss, enjoy this while you can I suppose." She began creating two braids on the sides of her head, bringing them back to clip them together in a half-do of sorts. It was simple, but hardly doing anything with her hair it felt as if it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"Do I have to wear makeup?" Mary asked when Emilia reached for a brush.

"Not if you don't wish to, miss."

Mary then began to frown when she looked at the mark on her forehead. It was already black and blue, stitched and all. It made her sick knowing it would eventually be a scar she had to live with for the rest of her life. Not so much because of her having a scar, but more-so how she got it.

"I could cover it up, if you'd like?" The maid offered sincerely, knowing it was bothering her. Mary moved to speak when the door opened suddenly, the catcher entering with an unreadable expression. He looked between the two women before landing on the maid.

"Leave us."

"Yes, sir." She dropped her head and sped out, closing the door behind her. Mary, however, hadn't moved. She continued to stare at the gruesome bruise with mixed emotions. Hatred, frustration, grief.

"I was starting to think you'd never wake up." Reuben started as he walked over to stand behind Mary, hands resting on the back of the chair she sat on. "According to the nurse, you'll have headaches for some time, possibly other side effects." When he noticed her unmoving figure he frowned.

As she continued to stare her lips tensed and downturned, vision growing blurry as tears began to escape. Everything seemed to rush at her all at once. Being chased and beaten by her own father. Her mother. She knew she wouldn't be able to go back to the village, nor did she want to. And she had every doubt that she would be allowed to stay in the castle. She had nowhere to go. She felt so alone. More alone than before.

Mary bit her cheek in an effort to stop, but it was inevitable so she tore her eyes away from her reflection to the desk of the vanity. She closed in on herself, wrapping her arms to grip onto her dress when she felt a pair of hands take hold of her wrists to gently pry them off. She looked up at Reuben whose eyes held a sense of sympathy and it finally broke her.

She inhaled sharply, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in it. She cried out painfully, voice hoarse and distraught over everything that had happened. At first Reuben wasn't quite sure what to do, having never been one to comfort. Usually he was the cause of one's pain. But alas, with great hesitation, he eventually wrapped his own arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

He couldn't remember the last time he had done anything like this. In fact, he couldn't remember doing it for anyone in his entire life. He never had a close relationship with anyone, really. It was new to him and it made him uncomfortable, but at the same time it warmed him in a way knowing he may have someone he'd be able to be that way with. So he decided to go along with it.

His thumb caressed her back in hopes to soothe her and he felt her tighten her hold, fisting the fabric of his coat. It wasn't until her cries were but a whimper that she began to loosen her grip. Mary slowly pulled away from him, keeping her arms wrapped as she looked up at him once more.

The way he looked at her made her feel vulnerable and bare. Exposed. She wasn't sure whether it was for better or for worse, but she assumed she would find out in the near future.

She always heard everyone say how terrible of a man he was, the vile things he did to the children and villagers he captured. Yet in this light, she found it entirely hard to believe. He was never one to take his time when it came to his work unless he was in a disguise, and even then it only took a few minutes to lure the children out. She just couldn't see him creating a plan so intricate as to what she was experiencing. At least not to kill or capture her.

Mary then looked down at his vest where she rested her head and her eyes widened.

"I - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -" Reuben rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing a bit of water won't fix." He disappeared into the washroom and she heard the sink begin to run. She stood up and fixed herself in the mirror, smoothing out her dress mainly out of nerves. Mary meandered through the room, eyeing and taking in all of the decor. Paintings of scenery and portraits lined the walls, shelves and tables of artifacts each worth a fortune below them. When she reached the lush brown curtains she hesitated. Her hand gently began pulling it back to reveal the most grandiose view.

It looked over what seemed to be the front of the castle, his room appearing to be frighteningly high. It all seemed so much larger than what she saw from the village. The cobblestone walls glistened in the sun's rays, reflecting its light to make it seem brighter than it was. The giant red rug that led to the front doors from the main gate created a stark contrast compared to it.

"The view doesn't do it justice." He spoke from behind her. "But I wouldn't stare too long, you'll cause a headache." He rested a hand on her back, guiding her out of the room. "I've requested you meet the Barons. They are your host, after all."

The halls they walked down were rather bland, compared to his room, with cobblestone walls and flooring. The only occasional decor was a painting or form of weapon on display, but the sheer largeness of the rooms in the castle made up for it.

"They so graciously made time for you." His voice then turned to little more than a mumble. "Even though they do almost nothing all day."

They reached a double gate of sorts, and behind it a box-like room. Reuben opened the first, then slid open the second and motioned for her to enter.

"What is it?" Mary asked cautiously, hesitant about the contraption.

"An elevator. It's a machine that carries things up or down."

"Elevator...?" She echoed as she stepped inside, Reuben following suit and closing both gates before pulling a lever. It made a jolt before it began descending and Mary used Reuben to catch herself, muttering an apology. "Have you told them about me?" Mary asked curiously.

"I have." Her heart skipped. "But I only did so if they asked." She then let out a relieved sigh. "I'm not one to dish out personal information, believe me."

"Well, did they ask much?"

"Not particularly. Then again, I'm never around them too often for them to really care."

"Why's that? Aren't you their henchman?" Reuben looked at her from the corner of his eyes, gaze intense and secretive.

"Let's just say my job doesn't require me to be in the common areas of the castle." Mary could only nod.

When the elevator stopped he led her out and down a set of stairs. When they turned a corner she was met with possibly the largest room in the castle. In the center sat large black and white tiles, a small set of stairs on one side led to the main entrance of the castle. A larger set to the left and at the top rested the barons sat elegantly in their thrones. Well, the Baroness moreso.

Men and women of seemingly higher status were spread about the room. Some played chess, others a form of ball with a cue. None of which she had seen before. Off to the side sat a row of women crocheting what seemed to be a scarf of some sort, bringing a small smile to Mary.

"Make sure to curtsey." Reuben discreetly told her as they went up a few steps. "Your excellency!" He greeted dramatically, taking his hat off to bow deeply as Mary performed her best curtsey. "I would like to introduce you to the seamstress." Mary offered a slight bow of her head.

"Ah, ha ha!" The Baron laughed boisterously in excitement, his wife gasping and clapping. "So you're the one who made the coat!" He leaned forward in his seat with a smile.

"Yes, my lord." Mary nervously glanced over at the catcher who bore a mischievous smile.

"And what a fine coat it is!" The baroness piped up. Mary felt her face begin to warm and she silently prayed it wasn't as red as it felt.

"Um - we - thank you, my lady."

"Tell me, what is your name?"

"Mary, my lady. Mary Elise."

"And what is it that you do, Mary?" Mary took a labored breath, glancing at the floor. It was a simple yet complicated question, especially at that present moment.

"Well, I'm a seamstress, my lady. Have been all my life."

"Well, all of my seamstresses have been their whole lives and aren't nearly as talented as you. I think what you have is a gift, Miss Elise. I would love to see what else you could do here." Mary's eyes widened and her heart dropped. It had been the last thing she expected to come from such a person.

"Now, just a minute!" The Baron interrupted. "I agree, what you have made for our catcher is vundabar. However!" He paused. "Before making such a decision, I want you to make one more thing for us." He stood up, slowly descending down the steps towards Mary. "My birthday happens to be arriving soon, and it appears that my wife and I are without proper attire. If you are able to make us such attire, you will be granted the role of our personal seamstress. But!" He stopped directly in front of her. "If you fail, you will leave at once. No questions. No bargaining. Understood?" Mary nodded quickly.

"Yes, my lord."

"Off you go!" With another bow and curtsey, the two of them rushed back in the direction they came.

"Best case scenario." Reuben spoke first as they went up the stairway, making their way back into the elevator. "The baroness seems to take a rather special liking to you."

"And the Baron?" Reuben made a face.

"It seems he's feeling merciful at the moment. Anyone else, he would have them killed for failing such a task."

Once they left the elevator Reuben led her down a different direction than the one they came from, posing a question.

"Where are we going, Reuben?" The name caught him off guard for a second as he was still growing used to hearing it.

"Well, you need to see what you're working with, don't you?" Mary's eyes glistened with excitement and she smiled, trotting a little to keep up with him. He stopped abruptly in front of a smaller wooden door, giving her a look before opening it slowly to build suspense. He stood off to the side and Mary took it as the go-ahead, making her way through the doorway. She gasped, eyes wide in wonder and amazement.

The room was about twice the size of her own shop, but much cleaner and almost perfectly organized. Expensive fabrics were folded or laid out neatly, mannequins placed around the room wherever convenient. What caught her eye was the polished sewing machine that stood in the center. It almost seemed brand new, and it wouldn't surprise her if it was.

"Well?" Mary turned to Reuben with the largest smile he had seen from her yet.

"When is the Baron's birthday?"

Serenity - Chapter 4

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

Mary woke up with a start, gasping as she shot up in her bed.

Her bed…?

Had it all just been a dream? Did she really sneak out last night? She looked around, seeing her bag lying on the floor. She remembered the majority of what happened other than a few moments that were foggy to her in her tired state. She remembered riding the horse back to the village, but nothing after that.

She felt foolish letting her guard down so easily. Especially around someone with such a reputation. He didn’t seem to wish her any harm though, he didn’t seem to have any ill intentions at all. That’s what they’d want you to think, though, isn‘t it?

Her mind continued to argue with itself endlessly as she began her normal routine. Freshen up, dress, eat breakfast, open the shop. It was nothing but clockwork. However, she didn’t fail to notice her mother moving slower than usual. And her father’s uncharacteristically careful eye on the ill woman. Another thing among many for Mary to worry about.

Once the shop opened she immediately received her first customer which happened to be possibly the most ill-mannered woman in their area, Madame Caffe. Mary made sure to make the woman’s adjustment especially hasty.

“One lev, please -“

“Yes, I know. I come here nearly every month in case you’ve forgotten.” The grouch of a woman practically slammed the money on the counter, speeding off with her skirt.

Once finished she took care of what other customers came during the morning bustle, then disappeared into the shop when she finally caught a break. She began setting out supplies she knew she already had for the catcher’s - Reuben’s - new piece. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

“Another project?” Her mother voiced with a wink, taking a seat at the center table of the shop. It was the first time she came downstairs in two days. It was very much unlike her as Mary used to always have to shoo her away from work. Mary just giggled, deciding not to pry.

“You know I can’t help myself.” The smile her mother offered would melt anyone who looked upon it.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, liebling.” In the background her father eyed the two of them suspiciously, feeling as if they knew something he didn’t. He may have been a drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. And he intended to use that to his advantage.

“Your projects are the reason our business is going to the rats.” He grumbled as he sipped on his bourbon.

“Charles, you know as well as I that if it wasn’t for her projects we would’ve been with far less than rats.”

“Well, if she would focus more on the customers and less on her silly costumes we’d be out of this hellhole.” Mary continued working with her back to the two of them, breathing growing heavier as her tense lips downturned.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. If you didn’t keep spending our money on alcohol we could have already been somewhere nicer. And besides, no one ever leaves this town if not to leave the world itself one way or another.“ Her mother’s voice began to gain volume in frustration. “We’re better off than half the people in the village, at least be grateful for that. And it’s all thanks to our daughter’s silly costumes!”

Deafening silence followed. The air grew thick. Tears began to prick Mary’s eyes in fear of what was to come. Never had her mother yelled. It filled Mary with an anxiety she couldn’t control. Chaos ensued in the background, her father’s yelling catching her attention.

She whipped around to face the scene. Her mother was now on the floor, her father lunging at her once more to grab her by her bun. Tears began to steadily stream down both women’s faces, Mary frozen in place. Her mother began to cough uncontrollably, grabbing onto the cloth over her chest in search of relief.

“Stop!” Mary shouted in desperation, but it was futile. He began to scream in her mother’s face, practically pinning her to the table by her head. “Pa, stop!” Those who heard the commotion began to sneak peeks into the shop, watching as simple bystanders rather than interfering. Mary’s heart raced in fear for the frail woman whose eyes began to close. “Stop it, Pa!” Mary screamed.

Her mother’s struggle came to a complete stop, body limp. It wasn’t until then that Charles let go. His eyes grew wide, glazing over as he carefully set her on the floor. They waited. And waited. Then he felt a faint pulse. He sighed in relief, cradling her close to him.

As for Mary, she continued to panic. Her father had terrible fits, but none where he would put either of them in mortal danger. She had never felt more terrified in her entire life. Her panting soon filled the room and she flinched when her father looked up at her. Before she could decipher what his expression even was she was out of the shop, wandering off to who-knows-where.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, but it was no use as it continued to flood. The villagers in her path leapt out of the way as she ran, getting herself as far away from the shop as possible. As a road that led outside the town became visible she slowed to a speedy walk, clutching her chest as her mother had as a last resort of comfort. As Mary neared the edge she held onto the wall for support, the intensity of it all making her feel lightheaded and weak.

She closed her eyes and paced the road to slow her breathing, using techniques her mother showed her when she was younger and the attacks were more frequent. But no matter how hard she tried it just didn’t seem to work. She took a deep breath as her heartbeat filled her ears. Her hands cupped them, ran along her forehead, clutched her dress. Anything.

But just as she felt another surge of panic begin to grow she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whisked around in a fright, jumping away from the source when she saw Reuben standing there with his face scrunched together in confusion and…worry? Behind him was the carriage.

Quickly she dried her face, sniffing as she turned it away from him in embarrassment.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice taking on a darker, yet more careful tone than usual.

When she didn’t answer he sighed, looking down the street that she came from with a squint. He then looked back over at her as she closed in on herself and rested a hand on her back, beginning to guide her over to the box seat of the carriage.

“Sit.” Reuben urged when he felt her hesitate and helped her up. He stayed on the ground and leaned against the cage to allow her some space. He made sure to glare down anyone who dared to follow her or peer over at them, sending them directly back to where they came from.

“My mother.” He looked over at Mary. She looked over at him, eyes red and beginning to swell from the crying. “He almost killed my mother.” She whispered weakly.

“Your father?” Mary nodded. Not one to sympathize, he surprised himself as he felt his blood begin to boil. How Mary was able to tolerate living with such a man was beyond him, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice.

“She, um,” She motioned to her chest area, finding her words. “She has a heart condition,” her voice cracked. “And she - she raised her voice at him and he attacked her and she just -“ She took a breath to try and calm herself. “She just went limp. But he found a pulse once he realized what had happened.” Mary looked up and around, eyes wide with worry. “I shouldn’t have run away - I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have left her with him -“

“If you didn’t run away he would’ve done the same to you.” Reuben pressed, not wanting her to return to such a place so soon after what happened. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Slowly he climbed up to sit next to her and gently peeled her hands away from herself, looking her dead in the eyes. “Your mother would surely understand. She wouldn’t want you putting your life in danger.”

Mary looked away, unsure if she should believe him. Why was he even bothering to comfort her? He certainly didn’t have an obligation to. Yet at the same time, similar to the night before, she felt comfortable. Maybe that was the reason he was a child catcher. People were so easily fooled by his compassion that they failed to see he had an ulterior motive. But what motive would he have in her case? Had she offended the barons unknowingly and he was luring her in?

The possibilities were endless and there was even a chance she was worrying over nothing. He was a human being just as everyone else was, after all. One with questionable morals, but human nonetheless. He had a life outside of being the barons’ henchman and it was something that the villagers failed to acknowledge. For Mary, however, it was the only reason she was able to trust him thus far.

Or was it because someone had finally noticed her?

The Scarred - Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Notes - This story is set prior to the events of The Dark Knight. Some moments may feel OOC, but only because you will see sides of certain characters that weren’t represented in the movie, however I will do my best to stay true to the character and base it off of what is canon. *I do not own any of the content in this franchise other than my own characters!*

Song/Theme - “Set Fire” by Carina Round

Warnings -

Trauma

Flashbacks

Panic attacks

Anxiety

Gore/violence🩸

Aspects of torture

Sexual themes🔥

Smut (MDNI/NSFW) 🔞

Manipulation

Mature language

Chapters -

Prologue Chapter 10

Chapter 1 Chapter 11 🩸🔥🔞

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 🔥

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The Scarred - Chapter 9

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

“You okay, Penny?” Emma questioned, seeing the woman in question begin to nod off. She quickly sat up and rapidly blinked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep, that's all.” She responded, which wasn’t really a lie at all. Liam had tried to convince her to call in to take the day off, but Penelope couldn’t do that to Emma. That and she worried it would come off as suspicious since she rarely ever does it, and even more so given recent events that have been occurring at the shop itself.

“Is something bothering you, hun?” Emma asked gently, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“No, I’m okay,” She turned to face her. “Promise.” She smiled, and thankfully it was returned before the older woman walked away. Penelope let out a sigh of relief, massaging her temple.

They received more customers than usual that day, thankfully. It helped to both keep her awake and distract her from her thoughts, which grew to be a harder task as of late. By the time the work day drew to a close, Penny was practically sleepwalking. Zombified and depleted of energy, she waved off Emma in a goodbye before she turned to leave.

As she passed an alleyway, thinking all was well and would finally return home to relax, she gasped when something snatched her jacket and pulled her in.

“I did some thinking - y’know?” A familiar voice tossed up her stomach with nerves. She turned to look up at the painted face that greeted her - however much of a greeting it was.

“You scared the hell out of me!” She whisper-yelled in exasperation, her adrenaline throwing all caution to the wind regardless of who was in front of her.

“I think you oughtta have these than myself.” He continued on, completely ignoring what she said. She looked down and saw the handgun and knives from last night.

“You couldn’t have done that last night rather than snatching me and giving me a heart attack?”

“You’re alive, aren’t cha?” The Joker dismissed as if it was the most simple thing. Penelope couldn’t help but roll her eyes to his amusement and he hummed.

“Gettin’ a little bold after last night, don’t cha think?” His voice was flat, yet somehow still held a joking undertone. Penelope grew fidgety, mentally slapping herself for forgetting who she was talking to.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.” She nearly whispered with a downcast gaze.

“Ah, I’m just messing with ya, doll!” The Joker cackled. “But seriously, take these, I don’t want em.” She greatly hesitated before gently taking them from his hands, looking at them for a moment and putting them in her satchel.

“Thank you -“

“I’m going to give a wild guess and say you don’t have a single gun at your place?”

“I mean, I don’t, but -“

“Ah-ta-ta-ta.” He cut her off, placing a finger over her lips.

“Don’t got time for chit-chat, toots, but uh -“ He looked around for a second before leaning in closer to her as if he was telling a secret. “We can save that for later, hm?” He winked with a click of his tongue and gave her a couple of small pats on her head before turning to leave. “Don’t wait up for me!” He hollered over his shoulder and disappeared off to who knew where with a skip.

Penelope just stood in the alleyway confused as ever for the umpteenth time. If she wasn’t awake before, she definitely was now. She turned to make her way back to the main sidewalk, this time bumping into someone else.

“Oi, there ye are!”

“For fuck’s sake!” She gasped once again, hand over her chest. Liam frowned and steadied her.

“First of all, that’s my line. Second, the hell were ye doin in an alley?” He gently coaxed her to start their walk back to their apartment complex.

“Too tired to explain right now.”

“Alright, fair enough. Guess it’s not a good time to say ‘I told you so’ then?” Penelope gave him a side eye and he held up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. Quiet time it is.”

When the two of them reached her apartment and stepped inside, they were quick to get comfortable and relax on the couch. The TV hummed in the background at a low volume, soothing the two of them as Penelope began to fall asleep in Liam’s lap, the latter playing a game on his phone mindlessly.

No matter how close the woman was to sleep, though,, her body fought back. Her mind raced with scattered thoughts, a heavy sigh leaving her lips catching Liam’s attention.

“What’s on yer mind, lovin?”

“Too much.” She answered simply. Liam took his turn to sigh.

“Still too tired to talk about it?”

“The Joker is supposed to be dangerous…” She whispered mindlessly. Liam tensed at first and put down his phone. She continued once he began to caress her hair. “And yet I can’t shake that I feel safe with him.” Penelope turned in his lap, head facing up at him as she stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know how else to describe it. But something about him just feels so familiar, Liam. Like a reminder of something I can’t remember.”

“Aye. I know the feelin’, believe me.” He shifted as he thought. “If he wanted ye dead, he would’ve done so already. It’s a gruesome thought, but I believe it’s the truth.” He looked down at Penelope who met his gaze of understanding.

“But what if he has an ulterior motive? What if he’s just using me?” She watched as Liam began to shake his head.

“He doesn’t seem the type. Not patient enough from what we’ve seen on the news. Seems to me that if he wants something, he just goes fer it. The man won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” There was a moment of silence, the two of them sitting in contemplation, coming up with scenario after scenario where something could go wrong. But none of them seemed realistic in comparison to what had happened so far.

Days passed with no contact from the Joker or his men, much to her surprise. Days turned into a couple of weeks. Penelope just assumed that he was either too busy or got bored of her. She wasn’t sure which would have been a better explanation.

In a way, she missed his odd encounters. Before him, her life was boring, for lack of a better word. It was the same routine over and over and over. Granted, Liam tossed things up from time to time. But she eventually grew used to that, as well.

Penelope decided to switch things up herself after some days. She found a target range not too far away where she could continue her practice with the knives and handgun, Liam joining her from time to time.

It wasn’t until a while after that he came up with an idea.

“Come on.” The Irishman dragged the woman by her wrist to what looked like a gym of sorts.

“Liam, what’re we doing here -“

“You’ll see, ye twat, just come on.” As they entered the building, he scanned them in and took her upstairs, the smell making her nose twitch in discomfort. Once they reached the top, she was welcomed to an empty matted room. Her eye widened in surprise, unsure of what Liam was getting themselves into.

“The hell is this about?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Take off her shoes and coat and you’ll see. Stop asking questions, dammit!” He chuckled as he got ready himself and walked onto the mat.

Soon after she followed, giggling at the feeling of the mat beneath them like a child on a trampoline.

“Oi!” She snapped her head up to where he was and stood in front of him. “I figured since ye got them fancy knives and gun, we teach ye some real self defense, yeah?” Penelope’s eye shot wide open.

“Self defe -? You do realize I only have one arm, right?” Liam shrugged.

“All the more reason ye need it.” Penelope sighed and glanced away for a second, then took a deep breath.

“Okay fine, I’ll play.” He nodded with a reassuring grin.

“Right, Penny. First rule: self-defense isn’t about strength. It’s about leverage. Ye don’t need two arms er perfect vision fer this. It’s all about knowin’ how to use what ye’ve got.”

Penelope nodded, her single eye narrowing as she focused on him. Her missing left arm had made her hesitant, and the burns that marked her left side were a constant reminder of her limitations. But she needed to do this.

Liam stepped closer and motioned for her to raise her remaining arm. “Let’s start with balance. No matter what situation yer in, ye need a strong foundation. Feet shoulder-width apart. Right foot slightly behind, heel up. Keep that center of gravity low, but don’t lock yer knees.”

Penelope followed his instructions, her movements stiff but determined. She felt a slight shift in her body as she adjusted her stance. Liam circled her slowly, nodding his approval.

“Good. Now, if someone comes at ye from the front, yer not going to overpower em, but ye can use their own momentum against em. Grab my wrist with yer right hand.”

Penelope hesitated for a moment before grasping his wrist. Liam, much taller and stronger than her, didn’t resist at first, but then slowly applied pressure, mimicking an attacker’s force.

“When someone grabs ye, ye won’t have the leverage to just pull away,” He explained. “But what ye can do is use yer entire body to redirect the attack.” He gently guided her to pivot her hips and pull him off balance. “See? Ye use yer hips and shoulders to create force. That’s what keeps ye grounded and throws em off.”

Penelope felt the shift in weight and how Liam’s body tilted slightly as she pulled him off-center. Her eyes widened in surprise, a spark of confidence growing inside of her.

“Now, what if someone tries to take ye down?” Liam asked, stepping back and raising his hands as if to simulate a grab for her. “Yer instinct might be to pull away, but that just puts ye at a disadvantage. Instead, ye drop yer weight. Lower yer center of gravity, and they won’t be able to lift ye.”

He demonstrated, lunging toward her in slow motion. Penelope took a deep breath and bent her knees, dropping her weight as Liam had instructed. She felt him try to lift her, but she remained planted, like a rooted tree.

Liam grinned. “That’s it! Perfect. And while they’re strugglin’ to get a grip, that’s when ye go fer yer next move. Elbows, knees—anything hard and sharp. It’s not about bein’ clean. It’s about surviving.”

Penelope smirked slightly at that. “So… you want me to fight dirty?”

Liam’s eyes twinkled. “In Gotham? There’s no other way.”

He motioned for her to step back, giving her space. “Now, let’s try it with a punch. Someone’s swingin’ at ye from the right. What do ye do?”

Penelope tensed. Her left eye was no longer, and her missing arm meant her range of vision was limited. But Liam had thought of that.

“Ye can’t block with yer left, so ye have to move. Slip to the outside of their swing, stay low, and use yer shoulder to knock em off balance. That’s where yer right arm comes in.”

He swung at her slowly, exaggerating the motion so she could practice. Penelope sidestepped, dipping her head and bringing her right shoulder up to mimic the block.

Liam nodded in approval. “Good! Now follow up with yer right elbow—hard to their face er throat.”

Penelope did as he instructed, bringing her elbow up in a quick motion, though she hesitated at the last second. Liam chuckled. “Don’t hold back next time. You’ll need that speed and precision.”

They spent the next hour going over similar moves: how to throw a knee into an attacker’s gut, how to pivot and drive her elbow into someone’s ribs, how to avoid attacks from angles she couldn’t see. With each move, Penelope grew more confident, her hesitation slowly melting away.

Finally, Liam held up a hand, signaling for a break. “Yer gettin’ there, Penny. Ye’ve got the instincts. Now ye just need to trust yerself.”

Penelope wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, breathing heavily but feeling more grounded than she had in a long time. “It’s… a lot to take in. But I want to keep practicing.”

Liam clapped her on the shoulder. “And ye will. Just remember, yer not as vulnerable as you think. Ye’ve been through hell and came out the other side. That’s more strength than any move I can teach ye.”

Penelope gave him a small, hearing him say something so endearing a rarity coming from him. Her eye glimmered, practically glazed over with emotion. “Thank you, Liam.”

More days passed. And more. But it wasn’t boring anymore, no. Liam and Penelope had been practicing her self-defense as often as they could without straining themselves, and eventually he decided to teach her offensive attacks as well should they be necessary.

It was obvious to her that he genuinely cared for her and her safety, understanding that he wouldn’t always be there to protect her. That much was clear. Though it was a welcomed respite, the Joker still lingered in the back of her mind.

No matter how long it had been since he visited, she couldn’t help but think that their encounters were far from over.

The Scarred - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

“The hell is happening?” Penelope whispered to herself as she stared with a wide eye. She carded her hand through her hair, unsure of what to do, what to think. Whoever was behind this, they were patient and calculative. It frightened her. It frightened her and yet she hadn’t even met the person. That was the most unnerving part about it all.

Her hand moved to pick up the larger shards to throw away, then to grab the broom and sweep the rest. She scrambled to look through every hatch, every door, cabinet and closet for anything that might have been left behind. Yet there was nothing. Once more, the only sign that someone had been there was the face that had been cleared already. There was no lingering smell, not even a hair. Not a single spec of dust out of place.

“Okay,” She muttered. “Okay - okay.” Her mouth rambled on as she carried out her night routine, heart pounding faster than she would have appreciated as she tried to relax under the warm stream of water. Her feet padded against the cold tile as she tended to her formulating scars, pacing the small room before throwing on her pajamas. She raced to her coat, fumbling through the pockets for her phone and shuffled through her contacts. The coldness of it rested against her ear as she chewed on her cheek, wiggling the fingers of her hand absentmindedly.

“Penny?” The familiar voice made her perk up. “What’s up?”

“I just needed someone to talk to…” The woman practically whispered. She made her way to lay on her bed, listening attentively to the shuffling in the background over the phone.

“Oh, ’course, hun,” Emma had an underlying tone of understanding in her voice. “Did everything hold up okay at the shop?” Penelope thought back to the bald man.

“Yeah - everything went fine. Sold three vases.” She started fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“Three? That’s amazing!”

The voices echoed in the auditorium, the petite woman messing with the tassel that hung from her head. Everyone migrated to their families after having all walked the stage, visiting friends from time to time to say their goodbyes or reminisce in their memories. The woman searched for a familiar brunette bun.

“Penny!” She turned to face the voice, but was soon met with engorging flames. They towered over them all, everyone screaming and scattering in a panic. “Penny!” The voice screeched again, but no matter how many times she spun around and searched, she couldn’t find them. She started sweating profusely, both from the heat and stress of it all. Flames licked her skin, almost teasing it before it grew volatile.

Penelope’s eye snapped open, breathing heavily. Her hair stuck to her skin from the cold sweat she was left in. She laid there for a moment or two, collecting herself as best as she could. She imagined wind humming through her window, birds chirping as the sun’s first rays peaked through the clouds. She closed her eye again, imagining a bird.

What kind of bird it was, what it was doing. Perhaps it was a Swallow? It’s boring, brown feathers smooth as they glided and fluttered. The curious black eyes that fidgeted as it cocked and turned its head.

She took deep breaths, opening her eye once more to sit herself up on the edge of her twin bed. She stared at the soft carpet below her, loathing herself for waking up at such an ungodly hour. The faintest shade of blue colored sky if she were to squint. Penelope then stood, stumbling over to her dresser to change out of her now drenched sleepwear. She thought about taking a quick heat dump to cool her off, but the amount of energy it took for her to get in the shower right now made her shudder, so she settled with splashing cold water on her face instead.

She trudged into the living room to her box TV, turning it on and having the low noise of the news play in the background as she migrated to the kitchen. She decided to simply pop an egg sandwich from the freezer into the microwave, pouring herself a glass of milk to go along with it. She bounced when she plopped onto the couch, pulling the lap blanket from the top of it to wrap herself up in. Her eye stared at the screen with a bored expression, heavy as she watched.

With how consistent the news was it was a wonder to her how it was never a rerun. The same news anchor, the same monotone voice with the same type of news. A new murder case, Bruce Wayne’s next trip to an extravagant venue, cloudy skies with an expected drizzle all week. None of it came as a surprise to her anymore.

Crime rates continued to slowly increase ever since The Joker showed up. Penelope would be lying, however, if she said she wasn’t intrigued. From what she had seen on the news and heard from around the city, he was a very finicky person. He seemed so clumsy and careless, yet was always the one in control. No one could ever predict what he would do next, keeping everyone on their toes at all times.

She somewhat felt bad for the first responders who seemed to just be ragdolled from one end of the city to the other or thrown into frequent traps when he was out and about. She couldn’t deny that the thought of it made her snicker, wondering how they hadn’t learned their lesson the first few times. It was all a joke.

A vibration sounded from her phone and she looked to where it buzzed on the coffee table, the green icon showing that she had received a message. She reached over and picked it up, flipping it open in curiosity.

I’m stopping by Gotham Coffee. Want anything?

Emma. Penelope smiled at her phone, fingers moving to reply when another buzz went off. An unknown number, and what was sent was the number twelve. That was all she needed to know who it was.

The two women sat at the counter, sipping casually from their now cold coffee cups as they made small talk. Emma noticed how tense Penelope had seemed when she first entered the shop, what with her stiff posture and gaze cast down on the floor more so than usual, so it was a relief to see her smile a little more the longer they talked. They had just finished with one of their many giggle fits when the bell of the shop went off, cutting it short. Their heads snapped to the front and Penelope’s stomach dropped, mouth suddenly dry.

Once again, the light of the shop reflected off of the bald man’s head as his eyes focused on her own. With every step he took she felt as if she just shrunk smaller and smaller. It wasn’t until he stood directly in front of them that she shot up from her seat, scrambling into the back room to grab the vase she previously prepared. Her multitude of tiny footsteps echoed from the back as Emma and the man practically held a staring contest, the latter holding a sickly sweet smile. When Penelope emerged from the back room with the vase her arm shakily handed it to him, sucking on her bottom lip anxiously. With how rough he seemed, the gentleness with which he handled the vase amused her. But she wouldn’t dare show it. Emma looked over at Penelope as soon as he left.

“Was he one of the three vases?” She quipped, quirking an eyebrow. Penelope took a deep breath in, then casted her a sheepish smile.

“Four.” Emma stood to throw away their coffee cups. “He paid yesterday. Said he was picking it up at noon today.”

“How much?” Penelope’s mouth started to water, mouth faltering as she tried to form a response.

“Just twenty-five.” Emma, always having been good at reading people, knew she was being lied to, but for her friend’s sake decided not to push. She knew that if Penelope ever held something back, she did so for good reason. She just chuckled.

“How was it when he ordered it?” Her voice took on an amused tone. “‘Begonia and baby’s breath, please’.” She mocked the man, driving the two of them back into a giggling fit. They wasted the day away talking, trying to busy themselves one way or another until the end of the day. The last hour was the hardest. In silence they sat and watched the grandfather clock tucked away in a corner. Yet it only worsened their predicament.

Fridays had always been slower than any other day, and it was on Fridays that they truly realized that time was never on their side.

When they had fun, it flew by. When they wanted something to just be over with, it dragged on. It was cruel. Time was cruel. Life was cruel.

Penelope knew these things. So when the clock sounded at the hour they were out the front door, Emma locking up the shop and tossing Penelope a smile. They gave each other their ‘goodbye’s and ‘have a good weekend’s and made their way back to their respective homes. The city was in chaos, full of eager citizens who all wanted the same thing as Emma and Penelope. Some had already made their ways into their local bars, choosing to drown out their lives or celebrate simply because they made it through another week.

As for Penelope, she sat on the edge of her open windowsill and watched. A cigarette balanced between her lips as she struck a match and lit the end of it, shaking it out as she breathed in the all-needed nicotine. Her weekly treat. One she decided to keep to herself. She rested her head on the wall beside her, the buzz starting to get to her after a significantly larger inhale. She stared out at the scenery in wonder, mind finding its first moment of peace since the last time she had a smoke.

A sudden knocking on her door jolted her from her spot, the stick nearly falling from her mouth. She quickly put it out in the ashtray next to her and climbed down to close her window, bare feet skittering across the floor. She stood on her tip-toes to look through the peep-hole, yet no one stood at the door.

She unlatched it and opened it cautiously, peeking through until something caught her eye. She opened the door a bit wider to see a familiar vase sat on top of her welcome mat. Her vase. She noticed something dangling off to the side and delicately picked up the flowers to see what it was, and what she saw made her heart make its way to her throat. A playing card.

A Joker card dangled from the vase.

For your new Art the Clown Series: Can I please request the reader and Art going on their first ever official date? A night on the town? Like it’s not just what they usually do. There’s some fine dining, a movie, and a romantic walk in the park involved. Of course, all made twisted and bloody by the duo. 😆

Of course! Definitely gonna be a fun one to write 👏🏻

Serenity - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

-

Mary stared at the ceiling of the rather minuscule bedroom. She hardly slept that night, restless. Rapidly thinking about what the following day would bring. Or rather what the Child Catcher would bring.

No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on something else, whether it’d be new ideas or just ways to organize the shop, she couldn’t bring herself to stop wandering off to him. Question after question. Wondering.

He said the others at the castle lacked creativity, but that only left room for more questions instead of answers. Was the castle really that bland? Was it that lifeless?

The morning went by at a leisurely pace, and the afternoon even more so. It was as if the world was mocking her. It made her lose her focus. Made her more sluggish. Though it didn’t make her work any less remarkable. She would strive for nothing less than perfection, after all. But it all just so happened to be on possibly one of the busiest days she had in quite some time.

She began to question if there was a special occasion she and her parents were missing out on, or a festival perhaps? A birthday? The possibilities were endless in such a village. But just being a busy day would have to suffice for the time being.

She quickly patched up a pair of lederhosen with some difficulty, which she would never openly admit. The leather was tough to sew especially without the proper equipment. It was already irritating to work with even if she had all of the correct tools. But to compensate for the extra work and material, she charged more than she would for a simple fix. Which the men always had their own opinions on.

After trading with the man she slid her sketchbook in front of her on the stand, readying her pencil over the faded paper. Maybe coming up with some ideas for him beforehand would put her mind at ease? Unless he already had a specific one in mind, then her sketching would be pointless. But it wouldn’t hurt to try.

A candy man, he said? She doubted he would be willing to change his entire fit, rather than something to just throw over. A gentle smile graced her lips, the thought of him wearing such a flamboyant suit amusing her.

At last the pencil began to move across the paper, scurrying and scratching as ideas began to flood. Almost too many to keep up with. It didn’t take long for the first design to be completed with customers stopping by for a quick fix every other minute. She labeled what colors went where and what the fabric would be for each piece. All in great detail.

She repeated the same process for a few others, and thankfully it helped the day go by quicker. The sky was a deep gradient of orange and purple by the time Mary closed up the shop. She closed the double doors, turning to tidy the rest of the room in preparation for the day after. The old wood creaked beneath her feet to fill the airy silence, and it was peaceful. A breath of fresh air after the tiring day.

Once finished she trudged up the stairs to see the dining room empty which was a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. The stove was cold, pots and pans left the way it was that morning. Her father’s cup wasn’t even on the table or in the sink. That was what made her stomach churn.

A cough sounded from her parents’ bedroom through the closed door, growing more violent the longer it continued. The sound of it struck a fear in her that left her paralyzed. She listened. Waited. A minute later it came to a stop.

And the silence that followed frightened her.

Her breathing soft, she strained her ears to listen for even the smallest sound. Anything to ease her frantic mind. Then she heard her mother’s muffled voice.

Mary let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and at last began to prepare everything for dinner. She washed the vegetables and set out the cutting board and knives, chopping them up when she heard a door open. Feet shuffled across the floor, a pair landing beside her.

Her mother placed a larger pot inside the sink and turned it on, moving to light the stove.

“Ma,” Mary whispered softly when she heard a sniff, her own eyes glazing over. “Please stop.”

“Liebling.” Her mother’s voice held a mixed tone. Stern, yet trembled. Mary let it be, a tear escaping down her cheek.

Once they ate and the dishes were washed the older woman waved Mary over into her bedroom, her father still sitting at the table. She sat on the edge, Mary sitting almost directly behind her with a brush. She began to carefully remove the bun from her mother’s hair and combed her fingers through it in an attempt to undo any knots or tangled hairs.

“What did he want?” She asked Mary when she began to brush. She halted her movements for a second before continuing, caught off guard by the blunt question. “And don’t lie to me.” Her daughter hesitated, then huffed.

“You must swear not to tell a single soul.” Her mother let out a heartfelt chuckle.

“Who would I tell, dear?” After a minute or so of brushing she answered.

“He wants me to make an outfit for one of his characters.” A short moment passed and Mary honestly couldn’t tell what her mother was thinking. She didn’t still, didn’t sigh, didn’t gasp. Mary even convinced herself that she didn’t hear her, that is until her mother spoke.

“Will you?” Mary sighed.

“I will. I had a feeling it wouldn’t end well no matter the decision. It was either decline and insult the Baron’s henchman, or accept and face the wrath of the people when they find out.”

“When they find out?”

“It’s only a matter of time.” Mary stood up once finished and put away the brush. “Those intrusive bastards.” She mumbled to herself and her mother just smiled.

“Well, what does he want? Do you know?” Her questions surprised Mary, taking everything better than she thought she would. Just two days ago she was scared to death of him when he first entered the shop and now there they were having a casual conversation about what his next lure would be as if it were common gossip.

“All he said was a candy man. I sketched out a few ideas I had today. Whatever it turns out to be, I just hope he likes it.”

“Only a fool would find your work distasteful. But it is interesting how he is giving you so much free reign for something so seemingly important to him.”

Mary felt guilty for not telling her the whole truth. She trusted her mother more than anything. Not because of familial relation, but because of how much they had been through together. What they still went through together. She meant well, and it wasn’t as if she was lying. She just didn’t want her to worry more than she already did.

By the time her parents finished getting ready for bed and settled down Mary was downstairs collecting all she needed. She put her sketchbook and pencil in a simple tattered shoulder bag along with her favorite measuring tape. She then checked upstairs to make sure her parents had finally fallen asleep before heading to the front of the shop.

She peaked out the window of one of the doors, making sure no one was still wandering the plaza. When the coast was clear she carefully left the shop, turning the knob as she closed it to prevent any unnecessary noise.

Her hands nervously twisted the strap of the satchel as she turned to face the wide open space. She rarely ever ventured out in the dark, let alone to meet with someone. She supposed she was a bit of a hypocrite since she considered herself to be a reclusive person herself. Now, she wasn’t heavily introverted, but enough to call herself one.

Mary took a few steps into the plaza, looking around for any sign of the man. Would he be hiding? Or was he confident enough to just wander in? Perhaps she was too early? She chewed on her lip with blooming panic as the questions began to swirl, but was put at ease when she saw him step out from a nearby street.

Never would she have thought she would be relieved to see the Child Catcher, but alas she sighed at the sight of him. The relief gradually diminished, however, with every step she took closer to him.

Being in his presence would strike fear into even the toughest man in the village. To say he had a reputation would be an understatement. To the others in the village he was a sadist, taking great pleasure in capturing the children and watching them cry and suffer. Same with the adults he had executed for having them in the first place. Mary, on the other hand, didn’t know what to think of the man. As far as she was concerned, he was just doing his job. Maybe he had a bit of too much fun doing it, but it was a job nonetheless.

When she reached him he leaned his head in the direction he came, turning to walk back down the street with Mary in tow. When she turned the corner she saw a horse standing in the middle of it, patiently waiting. She felt intimidated as she stood beside it, being short enough as it was. She turned to the catcher who held a hand out, offering his help.

“Where are we going?” Mary asked warily.

“The bridge.” His bluntness surprisingly made her trust the man more, made him seem like he had nothing to hide which was ironic given the situation.

After a moment’s hesitation she took his hand and collected her skirt with the other, placing her foot in the stirrup to push herself up onto the horse. She gasped when she felt him lift her up with a startling amount of strength, yet was still careful in his movements. It was rather deceiving compared to his more scrawny appearance.

As he hopped on behind her she began to welcome the height difference, it even put the hint of a smile on her face. His arms reaching around her to grab the reins soon brought her back to the reality of the situation. After he kicked and the horse began to move she quickly gripped onto the saddle in front of her, never having ridden a horse before as it took on a graceful walk, and once she grew used to it her smile returned.

“Enjoying yourself?” The man behind her piped up in subtle amusement.

“Very much.” Was her simple response. She looked up to the sky, the stars beaming down brightly. Not a single cloud was in sight. “Imagine the view from the castle.” Mary mumbled, losing herself in the many new sensations the night already brought her.

“It’s better than the one down here, no doubt.”

“Well, do you ever look at them?” She questioned, her eyes never leaving the sky. She couldn’t understand why, but she felt more comfortable talking to him as they were. It was refreshing for her to talk to someone new. Someone who was willing to listen, or rather seemed like they were willing. Whether he was doing it out of politeness or because he was her customer, she couldn’t tell. But she appreciated it either way.

“I see no reason to.”

The rest of the ride was silent, yet peaceful. And Mary hated to admit it, but it made her sleepy. She wasn’t used to staying up later at night. Perhaps that was why she always woke up so early. Or was it the other way around?

When they reached the arch of the stone bridge he jumped off, then once again helped Mary. She had been far less graceful and nearly face planted the gravel were it not for the catcher…well, catching her. He tied the horse to a nearby post and turned to Mary expectedly, only to see her already taking a seat beneath the bridge. He followed suit and sat next to her, keeping a good distance so as to not make her feel uncomfortable, which she made a mental note of.

“If you don’t mind,” she began as she pulled out her book and pencil. “I already had a few ideas sketched out during the day if you wanted to take a look at them?” She looked over at him, shrinking with beady eyes at his unreadable expression. “Unless you already had one in mind?” She quickly added. He glanced down at her sketchbook.

“Let’s see yours first.” With a closed smile, she opened it and flipped to find the page.

“Given your line of work, I thought maybe a larger cloak of some sort. It would be a simple change and I think it would flow more gracefully if it has the right flare.” She finally landed on her first drawing. “Since you said ‘candy man’, I thought it would be best to stick to more intense colors, or bright. I was thinking purple for the base color and tried adding in other designs, but the color just didn’t really stick out to me.” Mary flipped to the next page and he watched her enthusiasm begin to show.

As she continued to explain her ideas, the catcher watched on in bewilderment. He knew she had to be at least somewhat skilled to create what she had in the shop, but her range of thought and creativity was far beyond what he had originally thought. Not only was she good at sewing, but he noticed how she tailored to the customer as well.

For the first time in years he was stunned. He greatly underestimated her, and so did the rest of Vulgaria. It was a shame no one took advantage of her work and how much she enjoyed doing it. He could tell she held so much passion, so much love for what she did and yet no one seemed to notice or appreciate it.

It reminded him of himself.

“This one is my personal favorite.” He perked at her words, eager to see why it was indeed her favorite. He leaned closer and carefully looked over the detailed design. It was consistent with her previous cloak designs, however it was the largest of the bunch. Enough to cover the majority of his suit.

The base was a vibrant yellow, orange and white trimming and geometric designs tactically placed to make it stand out more. Flowers of blues and yellows lined the coat along the edges and sleeves, rich green leaves sprouting from them. But it was a patch of red with black zig-zags along the upper back that struck his fancy the most. It seemed out of place compared to the rest, yet somehow she made it work. It wouldn’t be the same without it.

“That one.” The catcher drawled out. Mary snapped her head over to him, mouth agape.

“But, I haven’t -“ She stopped herself when his eyes flicked over to meet her in an intense gaze. She quickly looked away and stuttered. “Of course. This one it is.” She then turned and started digging through her bag to pull out her tape measure and stood up.

Her eyes followed him as he did the same, just over a head taller than her. Her eyes glanced between his own, fiddling with the tape in her hands absentmindedly. Then she suddenly realized why she had it in the first place.

“Right.” She chirped quickly and began to take his measurements, starting with his arms and jotting down the numbers along the way. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is your name exactly? I find it rude not to know the names of my customers.” Mary asked softly to break the awkward silence, mostly out of her own curiosity. Her hands lightly shook out of nerves.

“Reuben.” He caught the faintest smile reaching her lips.

“Reuben…?”

“Reuben Herrmann.” It took everything in him not to cringe at the name. It had been quite a while since he heard or even said it after being called The Child Catcher for so many years. Very few people knew his real name, and he preferred to keep it that way. The only reason he even told Mary in the first place was because he was aware of how little she spoke to other villagers, if at all. He had a feeling she wouldn’t even tell her own mother without his expressed permission.

Mary reached around his front to measure his torso and it wasn’t until then that he realized how close they were. He could tell she was trying to avoid it from happening, but given she was taking measurements it was only a matter of time. And now it was his turn to feel flustered, mainly from hearing her repeat his own name back to him.

“I think it fits you.” Mary hummed, then she began to giggle and decided to try and break through his closed-off demeanor. “You know, the people gossip about what they think your name is?”

“They do?” She nodded and continued with her giggle fit. “And what have they said?”

“Well, nothing even remotely close to Reuben. Your name is that of a saint compared to what they’ve come up with. But I think my favorite is Archie.” Mary’s giggling turned into laughter when the catcher’s face twisted into disgust.

“Archie? Well, I’d say we’re blessed that they can’t have children.” By the time her laughter died down she was finished and put away the tape measure, hooking the bag over her shoulder.

“Well lucky for you, Mister Herrmann, you won’t be catching any Archies.” The two of them made their way back over to the horse, untying and mounting it once more to begin their journey back to the village.

Mary let out a gentle yawn, covering it as best she could. The sound of the horse’s hooves tapping against the ground, the movement of it alone practically rocking her to sleep. She struggled to keep her eyes open as the crickets seemed to grow more faint, everything around her meddling together. Subconsciously she leaned back against Reuben, her head rested off to the side on one of his shoulders. But by the time she realized she was falling asleep it was too late.

The Scarred - Re-Vamped!

Hello, everyone!

If you’ve read the story The Scarred on @j-wont-stop page, it is actually my account. I logged out and haven’t been able to log in so I created this new one.

It’s been a long time coming, I’m sorry for the wait and I understand if yall gave up on it after a certain amount of time, I would’ve, too, honestly - however! The story is back on its way to completion and I’m excited to share where it goes!

Some things have been tweaked due to minor plot changes, but generally it still follows the same plot! So if you’re ready to stick to it, I’ll be sure to make sure it was worth the wait!

For my Serenity story, it is finished, I’m just making minor adjustments before I post the final parts.

Thank you all so much for your support!

Thank you all for the lovely comments! I have many more ideas and one-shots to come! Some are a bit more lengthy than others, be warned!🥰

(P.S: Ideas/asks are most definitely welcome 😘)

Umbral - Masterlist

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.

(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux’s personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can’t outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.

In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.

Contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn

Song Inspiration -

Evanescence - Afterlife

Umbral

Chapter 1 Chapter 6

Chapter 2 Chapter 7

Chapter 3 Chapter 8*

Chapter 4 Chapter 9

Chapter 5 Chapter 10