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cnt. / @pierced-morals
“How d’ ya know it’s me boss, looks pretty anonymous t’ me?” Of course, it was him, who else was an absolute moron? But why give it up so quickly, that wasn’t any fun now was it? Plus, Pierce was hot when he was irritated.
“But like, are ya’? Really? Cuz I ain’ heard that yet.” Boots tapped as the drunk all but bounced over, peering at the other.
Way to blow your cover way too quickly, you hopeless gay.
Rotten / Drabble / @pierced-morals
“Donald.”
The name slipped softly from pink lips, bare feet stepping from carpet to the cold wood of the outdoor balcony. She had heard him come home, but hadn’t seen him since. Hidden away with his guilt, cigarette smoke mixing with the stars as the blackness of night overtook the property. She knew there was more going on than she could ever know. Demons that this man faced, that he felt he had to fight alone. But nights like these...
Soft steps, and her arms slipped around his waist, head resting on his back where she could hear the stutter of his breathing as he inhaled more of that toxic smoke.
“Another hard night.” It wasn’t a question, a statement that passed her lips with certainty, she knew. Rarely did he distance himself these days, pull away from the carefully crafted faux normalcy of their life together. But here he was.
A bitter laugh rolled off of the man’s tongue, laced with a venom she heard many a time, but felt was foreign each one. Residual cruelty from a double life she knew little of. Even still, she knew enough.
“Y’ could say that, Princess.” One hand - the human one, of flesh and bone, moved to rest over her own, fingers tracing over the too-soft skin of a spoiled girl. “Gon’ catch cold out here ya know.”
A smile, half hearted, curled her features, face pressed briefly into his back. He was right - with bare feet and wet hair, she was destined for illness. “Don’t care, Donnie.” Softly spoken words, a murmur against his coat, eliciting a sigh from the man. “I’m not leaving you out here to brood all alone.”
Words met with silence, first. The distant sound of wind-chimes near the barn, sound of the staff cleaning inside. A long minute, until his cigarette was finished, pressed out in the crystalline ash tray.
“Why d’ you-” Words spoken softly, laced with frustration, but cut off by her own voice, still muffled by his coat.
“Care? Because I love you, Donald.”
“Why? ‘s rotten work, lovin’-” What, he asked himself. What was he? A monster, a villain, a cursed soul.
A rotten no good murderer.
( A child abuser, a kidnapper )
A reaver.
“-Me.” The sentance finished with lack of flare, cold fingers of his metal hand curling around the balcony railing, a tense grip, trying hard not to splinter the wood.
The response came softly, drifting past her lips in a murmur that could have easily been mistaken as a passing fairy, or a wind chime in the distance.
“Not to me.” Words spoken softly, followed by a pause before they were repeated, almost as if steeling her opinion, writing it in stone. “It isn’t rotten work to me. Not if it’s you, Donald.”
A reaver, a killer, a criminal. She knew the labels people would throw around at his name. Monster, they may say - but Shay had seen the kindness in a monster’s eyes. The love beating in his chest. A monster he may be - but if that were the case, then her love would be the sword that slay the beast.
“Now, come inside, I’ll get Cassidy to start some tea.”
Normalcy. . .
Or some faux illusion of it.
“Shoutout to @pierced-morals! Donald Pierce is a difficult muse to write, and honestly, your headcanons, verses, and characterizations are so interesting... I'll stop being too intimidated to approach you one day, but for now, just know someone thinks you're amazing!“
Outing Prompts / Accepting
cracked-roleplay said ↴ 🏞️ ( Christy / @pierced-morals )
🏞️ — Go to the park together
- -
The cold didn’t bother her as they made their way into the park - and for a chilly afternoon, the park wasn’t as empty as could be expected. Here or there, a few people wandered about, chatting or walking their dogs, and kids played in the distance, despite the nip to the fall air.
Christy’s smile was similar to theirs, turning to bounce along backwards, grinning up at the Reaver as they walked.
“We should swing, okay?”
( How high could that metal arm send them? )
“Come on--”
5 w’s meme / accepting
Anonymous / @pierced-morals said ↴ “ What do you know about them? “ (Shay / @pierced-morals)
“I know they’re literally the worst.” The words were said with a polite bitterness that only children of the wealthy could muster. While Shay had avoided being heavily involved in her father’s politics and work relationships, she had studied the men he did business with quite heavily, simply from afar.
& she had learned they were all basically the worst.
“Can we please eradicate that contract, I’m certain I can find one of equal revenue share that will be less morally reprehensible.”
( As if the wife of Donald Pierce was anyone to speak on morals )
(Drabble Prompts) “No, no. Not the puppy dog eyes, don’t you fucking dare. Dammit.”
Drabble Prompts || Accepting
❤
She really was like a child - or a dog. Dinner had been an hour ago, and Rosalie had already devoured several cookies for her ‘mandatory dessert’, as well as downed two sodas. That didn’t stop her from peeking up at Pierce an hour later, innocent smile curling those lips as she wiggled closer in their snuggling position. She wanted more cookies - obviously - but getting up was so not about to happen.
“Piiiierce, can you get the cookies?”
So why not see if she could convince her man to fetch them for her? Her voice curled around the question in a playful song, wiggling slightly, almost like an excited dog waiting for a treat.
“Ya don’ need no more cookies, baby.”
His southern coo retaliated like she was a child to be scolded - but it was hardly offensive. He took the tone with Rosalie often. The fact of the matter was she was quite…. similar, to a child needing to be scolded, despite being in her 20′s.
However, the soft scolding wouldn’t deter her for long. Sparkling eyes went wide as she rolled over to face him properly, peering up at him.
“Pleeease?”
“No, no. Not the puppy eyes–”
She could see the confliction crossing his gaze, laced with unveiled irritation. He always hated when people begged, but he had told her before that she was too damn cute when she did it, and that pissed him off more. Rosalie just thought it was funny that she could piss him off so easily.
Puppy dog eyes - intensify. The hard part was stifling the giggle that threatened to burst past her lips, but she managed.
“–don’t you fuckin– God dammit.”
A strong arm tossed her backwards on the sofa, Rose’s small form landing in the opposite pile of pillows, and she burst into giggles as she watched Donald Pierc/e, the manly reaver who killed people on the daily, rise to fetch the tin of cookies from the kitchen.
“Y’er awful, ya know that?”
“I know~”
The sing song giggle was met with a playful glare as the man vanished into the kitchen, returning with two mugs of coffee in addition to the tin, and– was that his flask, sticking out of his jacket pocket? She wasn’t surprised, he had never liked the emotion thing, and she sure as hell brought some out.
“Ya don’ need cookies.”
“I run on sweets.”
Grabbing hands reached out for the tin as Pierce moved closer, opening it with child-like excitement when it was tossed into her lap, grinning as she stuffed a cookie into her mouth.
“You’re the befft.”
Words distorted by a mouth full of cookies got her a soft smack to the back of the head.
“Don’ talk with y’er damn mouth full.”
Always the southern gentlemen it would seem, his scolding was met with another giggle as she flopped against him, and chapped lips claimed her chocolate-smudged own.
