#so here's the first half. the second half will be pt. ii... and will there be a third part? who's to say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hcneymooners · 6 months ago

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⋆ heart on a sleeve.

(lowkey toxic!)bsf!vi x bsf!reader. men & minors dni.

pt. i ( you are here. ) / pt. ii.

synopsis: vi is handling her breakup badly, but you refuse to give up on her. it's part of the deal when you're irrevocably in love with your best friend.

cw: vi exhibits toxic behavior but is more complex than toxic, this part is sfw but part ii is going to be explicit, pit fighter!vi, implied alcoholism, emotional hurt/comfort, second chances, implied friend breakups, not actually unrequited love, vi is trying her best and so are you, blk-coded reader but all are welcome to read.

notes: inspired by the beautiful @avonnimimi. adore her. also the raccoon thing actually happened to me, lol. love you.

you've always loved winter in the city. winter is your season. the world grows unnaturally quiet underneath the suffocation of snowfall; you can finally hear yourself think. the heat is cranked up as high as it can go without bothering you and you sit on the floor, hips groaning as you stretch them out.

tonight, the snow falls soft and quiet, less fervent than the day before, catching in the glow of streetlights. you’re in a navy blue sleep set, your silk shorts clinging to your cocoa-buttered thighs. the fabric is covered with detailed illustrations of eopards, their mouths open and demanding. despite it not being your preference, you have your best friend on the phone as you contort yourself into different shapes. she keeps shooting you looks as your joints pop, your bones waking up from their slumber.

“baby, i don’t think you’re supposed to be sounding like this at twenty-one.”

“don’t worry about it, lia. that’s why we stretch.”

dalia rolls her eyes from where she looms across the screen, her skin dark and gleaming post-shower.

eventually, you settle, loose and limber, and begin scrolling through old photos on your phone. your gold rings catch the light as you swipe past memories – vi teaching you to throw a proper punch, both of you sprawled on the quad during finals week, the night she got that bartending job. you’d celebrated with cheap champagne and a close call (read: climbed right into her lap and almost kissed her.)

your shared apartment feels hollow tonight. vi's combat boots aren’t kicked off by the door, her jacket isn’t thrown over the kitchen chair. her location is turned off and it eats at your stomach, but you try to self-soothe.

traces of her are everywhere – the worn boxing gloves hanging by the entry, the pile of mechanics textbooks on the coffee table, the polaroids magnetted to the fridge. your favorite was from last summer: vi half-asleep on the couch, head in your lap, while you read your sociology textbook.

dalia took that one, said something about capturing moments that matter.

you remember the night vi moved in, both of you drunk on cheap wine and possibility, sprawled on the empty living room floor.

"mama," she'd said, grinning up at the ceiling, "we're gonna make this place ours." and you did – vi's fight posters next to your framed family photos, her protein shakes beside your san pellegrino, your shared vinyl collection taking over the windowsill.

it was your most desired dream: to have a beautiful life. with her, if you could have everything you truly wanted.

your mom's daily check-in text slides gently over your screen: how's my baby doing? vi still being stubborn?

before you can reply, your phone buzzes with another call.

( three months ago )

vi's sitting on your bathroom floor, knuckles bloody from another underground fight. she's been taking more of those since caitlyn left, each one more reckless than the last. you don't say anything, just kneel beside her with the first aid kit you've kept stocked since freshman year.

"you don't have to keep doing this," she mumbles as you clean her wounds.

"i know." you focus on wrapping her hand, trying not to let your fingers shake. "i want to."

she watches you work, something unreadable on her face. "why?"

you don't answer at first. just keep wrapping, gentle as you can. some questions are too dangerous to answer honestly. still, you try.

“you’re never going to stop doing this to yourself,” you say finally. “this ache, this punishment—it’s going to live inside you for a while.”

you can feel her looking at you, blue eyes following the bend of your neck as you slick the splits of her skin with paste. her gaze is heavy. you refuse to look up.

“when i was younger, i found a racoon in my backyard. it was so sick, but i was so little and tried to save it. i called animal control, because i didn’t understand how they “handled” situations.” you flip her hand over, thumb grazing her palm. “i asked them to come pick it up, to rehabilitate it. he told me to look away, but i still held out hope. he shot it right in front of me. i cried, i think. still think about it.”

you’re still holding her hand, and she takes over the grip. she exerts pressure and tilts your chin up, bringing you back to her. your eyes are wide and luminous, two planets.

“when i see you, it’s like that,” you tell her. “except i know better now. i take care of it, of you, myself. it makes me feel like there’s a better chance at survival.”

you shuffle onto your knees, body tensing as you push yourself up. vi catches you by the ankle, tugs until you stumble against her bandaged chest. she presses a weak kiss to your calf.

“thank you.”

“mmhmm,” is all you answer, thumbing at her brow before leaving.

(one month ago)

the party's too loud, too crowded. bass thrums through the floor like a second heartbeat. you're watching vi across the room, watching her drink too much, watching her laugh too sharp when someone mentions caitlyn's name.

when she starts another fight – with who? does it even matter anymore? – and ends it with kissing someone else, something in you breaks. you slip away to the bathroom, sink to the floor in your party dress, press your hands against cool tile. you hate crying. hates how it makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. but the tears come anyway.

the door opens. dalia's there, sinking down beside you. she doesn't say anything, just pulls you close, lets you hide your face in her shoulder.

"baby girl," she whispers, but you cut her off.

“lia, later. please,” you rasp.

the bass keeps thumping outside. you can’t hear your heart, but you can feel it. you’re always fucking feeling it. you keep crying.

( now )

for years to come, you will always remember this moment. how you paused before hanging up on dalia and picking up for vi.

“violet?” your voice is low, tired.

across the line, somewhere cold and devoid of you, vi shivers. she loves when you say her full name, wants to eat you whole when you let it rasp across your tongue and teeth until it falls free.

“hey, angel. look, i swear m'fine to drive," she slurs before you can continue asking after her. your heart drops. “i just wanted to tell you ‘m on my way home.”

"violet, where are you?" you're already grabbing your keys, oversized park half-falling off of you.

"just... just leaving jinx's. cait was there with her new fucking—“ her voice cracks. "doesn't matter. i got this."

"stay put. i'm coming to get you."

“what? no—“ there’s a sound suspiciously like her dropping her keys. “fuck, ‘m dizzy.”

“violet,” you’re beginning to panic, your voice rising. “vi, listen to me. are you in the car?”

the door slams across the line. you have your answer.

“vi, please listen to me. i’m coming, okay? i’ll be right there. please don’t start the fucking car.” nothing. “violet! i know you can fucking hear me.”

it’s about five minutes of silence, before she speaks again. you’re borderline hyperventilating, hands shaking as you try to locate jinx’s number to get her to go outside and stop her sister.

"nah, you don't gotta—"

the sound of screeching metal cuts her off. then it’s dead air. you're running to your car before the call ends.

ᥫ᭡.

the accident scene is a nightmare made real. you find her car wrapped around a lamppost, driver's side crumpled like paper. your heart nearly stops until you see her stumbling away from the wreck, that familiar shock of pink hair catching the streetlight. she's swaying dangerously on the icy sidewalk. your hands shake as you guide her into your passenger seat, trying not to think about how close—

she reeks of whiskey and wears that same leather jacket she's had since her fighting days. The one with the worn elbows and faded patches. the one you helped pick out years ago, before university, before caitlyn, before everything got so complicated.

"you should've minded your own business," vi mutters, breaking the tense silence. her words have edges, sharp ones meant to cut.

you grip the wheel tighter. "you could have died tonight."

"yeah? maybe that would've been better than—" she cuts herself off, but you both know what she means. better than feeling like this. better than watching caitlyn walk away.

"don't." your voice cracks. "don't you dare. what the actual fuck is wrong with you, violet? why do you say shit like that? you have to stop.”

vi turns to you, eyes blazing with that familiar fight-night fury. "or what? you'll lecture me again? tell me how i'm throwing my life away? save it. i don't need another person telling me how to live my life."

the car comes to a stop at a red light. your layered necklaces catch the glow, throwing golden shadows across the dashboard.

"you think this is about lectures?" the words come out quieter than you meant them to. "vi, i found you in a crashed car. do you have any idea what that felt like?"

"oh, here we go. make it all about you, why don't—"

"yes! for once, let me make it about how i feel!" your voice rises, surprising both of you. you never yell. never let the mask slip. but tonight is different. tonight you almost lost her. "because i love you too much to watch you destroy yourself!"

“you don’t even fucking know me, [name].”

you can feel the heat rising. your throat is growing tight, and you know how this will end.

“we’re best friends, vi.”

her eyes flicker over the side of your face, and you’re just such an easy target and her mouth is opening and—

“i’m only yours.”

the light turns green. neither of you moves. no one’s behind you, both on the road and in real life.

“you,” you whisper, “are so fucking mean to me sometimes.”

embarrassment rushes through you. your face feels hot, and the ball in your throat is so large you’re struggling to breathe. you’re going to cry. maybe she can tell, because she lurches upward and jerks toward you. you jerk back, staring a hole through your windshield.

“[name]—“

you run the red light.

ᥫ᭡.

a week later, dalia corners vi outside the campus coffee shop. you're not there to see it, but the story spreads fast. the city feeds on scandal and t thrives on the misguided.

"you know what?" dalia gets right in vi's face, fury radiating off her small frame. she looks like a wind-up doll, braids freshly done and her hands balled into fists. “i’m sick of watching you treat her like this. she's been there for every fight, every breakdown, every time you needed someone. and what does she get? you taking her for granted, acting like she's disposable."

vi's jaw tightens. "you don't know what you're talking about."

dalia is yelling now, drawing attention. vi’s pretty sure jinx is observing, bright blue teetering in her peripheral vision. her sister had ripped her a new one after receiving your belated messages.

"don't i? because while you're out here playing self-destruct, she's at home crying over you. she'll never say anything because that's just who she is – she loves too damn much and asks for too damn little. she ain’t one of those weak-ass little bitches you keep messing with, but she was never good at establishing boundaries with you. i don’t know what the fuck she's on, but i'm off it. i'll say it."

something in vi's expression shifts, breaks open.

"she... she cries over me?"

"god, you're dense," dalia spits. "she's been in love with you since sophomore year."

vi stumbles into your empty apartment at 1 am—early for her—, still reeling from dalia's words.

“hey, angel?” she calls out, more habit than hope. only ghosts answer.

she finds your room too neat, closet half-empty. your parka's gone. your heavy jewelry box has left a perfect dust-free silhouette on the top of your vanity. she rummages through your desk and finds your monogrammed passport holder gone. she sinks onto your bed, head in her hands.

her phone's in her hand before she realizes, your number dialing. voicemail. again.

“[name], i... i fucked up. i know i fucked up. i’m sorry. please... please pick up. please." her voice breaks. “please, mama.”

seventeen calls. seventeen voicemails. silence.

finally, desperate, she calls dalia.

“look,” she begs, voice raw. "i need to fix this."

dalia's quiet for a long moment. "you're lucky i love that girl so much," she says finally. “she’s going to see her parents. her flight leaves at 4. terminal c. don't fuck this up again."

ᥫ᭡.

vi misses the flight.

ᥫ᭡.

your parents' house hasn't changed. same bright warm kitchen, same family photos lining the walls, same smell of your mom's cooking. it’s been two weeks post-fight. you’re recentering, need space to breathe, to remember who you are without vi's gravity pulling at you.

your dad keeps giving you those knowing looks over breakfast. you’re his daughter emotionally, your mom’s physically. they always joke that your mama said copy-paste, that you stole her entire face.

"sometimes," your dad says one night, his voice carefully light, "loving someone means letting them figure things out on their own."

you re-adjust one of your rings, a nervous habit. it was a gift from vi—two angel wings set on a thin diamond-speckled bar spread across two of your fingers. she’d fought for it. you were pissed. you never took it off, even though you rarely mixed metals.

“mmm. yeah, i know, daddy."

your dad finds you again in the kitchen at midnight, making tea you won't drink. you look so small in your grief, eyes blinking owlishly at the draft of your introduction to ethics paper. you’re wearing your glasses, the frames thick, and he smiles at the sight. you only used them when your eyes became too dry for contacts.

"you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head, then nod, then laugh wetly. your screen blurs into a smear of white and blue.

“i don't know how to stop loving her, daddy." your head drops. “why is this shit always happening to me?”

he pulls you close, kisses your forehead like when you were small. he chooses to let the language slide this one time.

"maybe you're not supposed to, baby. maybe it's not about stopping."

“i know,” you sniff, wiping your face. “i just wish i could pause it when things get bad, take a minute.”

“and that’s fair, baby. nothing wrong with that.”

“love is hard, baby girl.” your head whips up, finds your mother sitting in front of your computer. “you don’t have to pretend otherwise. no one here is going to shame you.”

your heart quakes with so much love that you start blubbering again. your parents only smile, pressing twin kisses to your oil-wet scalp.

“i’ll finish the draft for you, honey. get some sleep,” your mom says and you try to protest, only to get served with her “keep talking” look.

“‘kay,” you tell her. “thank you.”“mmhmm,” she tugs you into another hug. “finish your tea, baby.”

ᥫ᭡.

at the airport, you're going through security when your phone buzzes again. this time it's dalia.

d. <3: girl, you're not gonna believe this.

you hear her before you see her. vi's voice cuts through the airport chaos: "[name!] wait!"

you turn, lower the volume on your playlist. she's there, pink hair wild, still wearing her leather jacket despite the cold. she's holding a ticket.

“i missed the first flight, so i was gonna go to your parents. i couldn’t get a plane out ’til yesterday but then,” she says, breathless. "dalia told me when you were leaving. i... i couldn't let you go without—" she runs a hand through her hair, frustrated.

"i'm shit at this. but mama, please listen to me. i need you to know i'm sorry. not just for that night. for everything. for not seeing what was right in front of me."

you hold yourself very still, careful. hope is a dangerous thing, and she’s starting to rumble within you.

"violet…”

her eyes light up at the sound of her full name, and she rocks onto the balls of her feet.

"i miss you," she says simply. "and not just as my best friend.”

your eyes widen, and vi steps closer. her face is soft and open. somehow, you know she’s aware of your biggest secret. you’re gonna whip dalia’s ass.

“ i think... i think maybe i've been missing you for a long time without knowing it."

the airport bustles around you, but all you can hear is your heart beating too fast. vi takes another step, careful, like you might spook.

you look so beautiful to her, face bare and glazed with what she knows is a mixture of skincare and vaseline to combat the dry air of the plane. you’re being swallowed by your oversized sweatsuit, the hoodie absolutely massive and bubblegum pink. she focuses on your hands, finds the ring she gifted you. you flex your fingers, and her eyes fall on the small “vi” inked between your thumb and pointer. it’s stylized to look like roman numerals but it’s her name.

yours is tatted on her too, just behind her ear.

“look, vi. i—“ your top teeth worry at your bottom lip, plush and pink like a tulip.

"i know i don't deserve another chance," she says softly. "but if you're willing to give me one i swear to god, i’ll take what i can fucking get.”

you look at her – really look at her. she's a mess, clearly hasn't slept, probably bought the first ticket she could find which meant the airlines had robbed her blind. but her eyes are clear. present. seeing you maybe for the first time.

“i think you still have some things to deal with. like cait.”

“who?” she says, and you know she’s posturing, but it makes you laugh. vi grins, pleased with herself.

“don’t piss me off, violet,” you tell her and she closes the distance, threads her hands along your hips.

your body conforms to the comfort, to the familiarity. you close your eyes, lean your forehead against her chest. she’s so thick, so broad, that she shelters you. the world is so quiet here.

"slow," you say finally. "we’re taking this slow."

her smile breaks like sunrise. "slow," she agrees. "i can do slow."

above, your gate is called over the speaker. vi adjusts your necklace, takes your suitcase and bag. her fingers linger as you transfer them to her hands, sending a pulse down to your stomach. it’ll be hard to be careful. gentle. new.

“c’mon, mama,” she murmurs.

her hand is held out. you take a minute, maybe two, but you still hold it.

bonus:

d <3: so y’all kiss yet, or what?

you: you got one more time.

#vi x y/n #vi x you #vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi fluff #vi arcane #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #female!reader #fem!reader #black!reader #blktumblr #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #vi x fem reader #vi league of legends #mine ; 🐎.

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retireddaddyric · 13 days ago

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“You still hate me?”

(“You’re nobody” pt II)

Synopsis: (y/n) is again the journalist who always talked shit about Daniel Ricciardo but after having had sex with him she can’t get over it. And destiny brings them together once again at the Redbull Anniversary ceremony.

Warnings: 18+, minors do not interact please. Toxic relationship, enemies to lovers vibes, fingering, unprotected sex, public place sex.

Note: this is all fiction. English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any errors.

Hotel Hermitage Montecarlo.

Redbull racing f1 team anniversary ceremony. Big chandeliers, smoking suits, sea view, heels, oysters, champagne.

The last place you expected to see him again was here, surrounded by polished carbon fiber, faux nostalgia and too many people pretending not to miss him.

You’re walking on your heels and pulling the hem of the dress down to cover your thighs since the clothes Gucci gifted you are too revealing.

He’s laughing when you see him.Of course he is.

Standing beside a race winning car from a decade ago, champagne flute in hand, dark suit jacket tossed casually over his shoulder like he’s still the face of the grid.

The spotlight doesn’t know how to forget certain people. And he knows it.

He is smiling at the flashing cameras, photographers shouting his name like the whole paddock used to do when he walked around.

You freeze. Not visibly, hopefully. But something shifts in your chest like a gear grinding at the wrong speed.

Fuck. You said you wouldn’t care if you saw him again. You said he meant nothing.

But he looks better than he should. Maybe it’s the tailored cut of his shirt or the way the stubble’s grown in just enough to look like he doesn’t give a shit, when you know for a fact he cares about everything. Especially control. And for a split second, his eyes flick toward you.

He sees you. Of course he fucking does.

And then he smirks. Not a full smile—just that infuriating tilt of the lips that says ‘I remember everything you said… and everything you didn’t.’

You hate him all over again. And above all you hate the way your thighs clench just standing there, remembering.

Because he was unforgettable. A whole month and you still feel him giving you backshots and talking dirty into yout ear.

Two hours later, you’re trying to leave. You’re done with champagne and fake laughs and the way every conversation keeps circling around legacy, records, “what could’ve been.”

He was always the ghost at the edge of these things.

Now he’s the main event.

You open the door to the back hallway near the place where the buffet was held an hour ago, half-expecting it to be empty.

He’s there.

Of course.

Leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets like this is a fucking coincidence.

“Looking for something?” he asks, voice low, rough.

“A place to breathe,” you shoot back. “Didn’t realize you were haunting bathrooms now.” You say pointing at the toilet sign next to him.

He chuckles. “Come on. You knew I’d be here.”

“I didn’t know you’d be waiting, I saw you leave ten minutes ago.”

“And you’re counting seconds.”

“You should count yours.”

“You pictured me like a dead man in that interview already.”

He takes a step forward, and your back straightens before you can stop it. That same goddamn gravity he had in his house. The same he has everywhere. With the others he is sweet and polite. With you he’s different. Arrogant, magnetic, dangerous.

“Didn’t think you’d still be writing fluff pieces about men you hate.”

He says taking your hand and pulling you inside the restroom.

“Didn’t think you’d still be desperate for relevance,” you snap.

He tilts his head. That smile again, slower this time, quieter.

“You think that night meant nothing, don’t you?”

“I think you’re very good at making everything feel important… until you disappear.”

He’s in front of you now. Close enough that you can smell his cologne, something fresh, expensive, familiar. Your stomach turns, sharp and tight.

“Tell me you haven’t thought about it,” he says.

“I haven’t.”

“Liar.”

His hand moves to your waist, and you don’t stop him. You should. You want to. You wish you wanted to. But all you do is exhale sharply, like your lungs remembered him before the rest of you did.

“You don’t get to just touch me like that.” You whisper.

“Funny. You didn’t say that last time.”

You slap him. It’s not hard, but it’s real. It’s all the frustration you feel towards your needs.

And it makes his jaw clench, the smile vanish for half a second.

But then he gets it, you wanted to slap tourself, not him.

His mouth crashes into yours. You’re kissing like enemies, all teeth, tongue, bruises forming with every pull. His hands are already under your dress, rough and sure.

“Still wet for me,” he growls against your lips as he soakes his fingers in your arousal, your thong pulled to the side.

“Maybe I just needed to get off.” You moan low.

“Then let me help.” He whispers sexy in your ear, his lips touching tour earlobe.

He lifts you up like you weigh nothing and sets you on the marble counter. The cold shocks your thighs but you barely notice. You’re already unbuttoning his pants like you’ve been waiting for this. And maybe you have.

“Make it fast,” you mutter, breathless. “Before someone hears us.”

“You like being heard.” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Not when I-“

And then he’s inside you, fast, deep, ruthless.

You gasp, biting his shoulder through his shirt. He grunts, fingers digging into your hips like he wants to leave a mark, like he needs to. It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s you two, two people who never figured out how to want each other gently.

He looks at himself in the mirrorbehind you as he ravishes you and you cling to him.

“You still hate me?” he whispers against your neck.

“Yes,” you lie.

“Good.” He thrusts harder. The sound of skin on skin fills the space between breaths. You’re already close. Too close. You hate that he knows exactly how to touch you, how to fuck you like he’s unraveling something he doesn’t want to look at directly.

He rolls his eyes in the back of his head when your walls start to flutter around him.

He doesn’t look into your eyes, he just watches your back in the mirror.

This time you come with a silent scream, your nails clawing at his back through his shirt. He follows seconds later, breathing hard, forehead pressed against your shoulder.

Neither of you speaks.

Not for a long moment.

Then: “You gonna write about this too?” he mutters.

“You’re not that interesting anymore.” You say looking away.

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Bullshit.”

He helps you down. Straightens your dress like he has any right to be gentle.

He tries to look at you, to really look at your eyes but you walk past him.

As you open the door to leave, you don’t look back.

But you hear him behind you while he buckles his belt. “Not over,” he says. “You know that, right?”

You don’t answer. But your heart beats like it already has.

(Part three here!)

#daniel ricciardo #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #smut #oneshot #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #max verstappen #lando norris #oscar piastri #geroge russell

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m1guelsgf · 7 months ago

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done for the night ii

axel kovacevic x reader

hello all! i hope u all like this part!! took me a little longer bc of finals. it's 5am and i need to sleep. lmk if i should start a pt.3 bc i do have tons of ideas and also for seperate oneshots and other fics for axel

canon divergence in this one :p

my requests are open! please send me some for any of the ck characters (but esp axel) but you can also just yap to me, i love to yap. been thinking about writing for kwon...

that's it from me! thx for reading <3

taglist:

@munson-mayhem @angieslove06 @arywry @karmaswitch @thisistherealmekitty

miguel and johnny returned with kenny the next afternoon. devon confessed to what happened in the woods and gave kenny her spot. kenny forgave her. sensei's seemed to be working well together. everything seemed like it was on the up and up. until...

"what do you think about kenny?" demitri came up to you with a curious expression, eli trailing not too far behind. kenny was sitting in a corner with devon, the both of them laughing and talking.

"kenny? i'm glad he's here." you responded from your spot at the mirror. you were doing your makeup, wondering why everyone had to meet in the girls room every time before matches. "he's gonna do great." you liked kenny, he was a cool kid and a great fighter. you had no doubt he would rise to the occasion.

"see, man." eli tapped demitris arm. "you're being paranoid."

"i'm not. he's gonna screw us." demitri raised his hands. "showing up the same time as silver? bad omen."

"you're being dramatic, mit." lately, if it wasn't one thing with demitri, it was another. he spent the rest of last night venting to you about the yasmin ordeal and you wanted to tell him he was in the wrong but you didn't want to argue with a debate champion. you were choosing your battles but it was hard because battles kept coming left and right.

"yeah, we shouldn't be jumping to conclusions." sam agreed from besides you. "he came all this way to help us."

"i'm not saying it's happened yet but we know that silvers gonna cheat. the only question is how?" demitri shot kenny a look.

"i'm gonna go over the numbers devon gave me with our sensei's." you got up and left the room with no plans on meeting with the sensei's unless you crossed paths. you just needed some air. between dojo drama and axel, you were feeling overwhelmed. you wanted to talk to him and ask him why he left so abrubtly after you kissed, but you also felt wrong mingling with a rival dojo. if any of the miyagi do's saw you talking to him they would definitely get the wrong idea. or the right idea, seeing as your first conversation with axel resulted in a kiss.

there was two hours until the next match. enough time to go for a walk on the beach to clear your head so you could fully support your teammates. before the doors to the elevator could shut, a hand stopped them. axel walked in, looking at his phone. his tall frame immediately stiffened when he saw your face.

"hey, axel." you started, knowing he wouldn't make the first move to speak. he nodded in acknowledgment. "it's good to see you."

"it is?" he looked at you, a crease between his brows. your reaction to his kiss last night made him think you wanted nothing to do with him.

you nodded. "yeah. it's always good to see you. where are you going?"

"needed some air." he sighed out in response.

"me too. everything is a little too much in there." you thought back to robby and tory, demitri and eli, kenny, and your sensei's.

"same." between sensei wolf, zara, and you, axel was stressed. he knew he would do good but he was half a second behind, his precision faltering in his performance at practice in the early hours of the morning. sensei wolf, of course, did not let it slide.

the two of you stood in silence until the doors opened. the both of you exited and fell into a nice, silent walk together. you didn't even need to speak to one another. it was comfortable.

you walked down to the beach and there was more people during the day than at night. you managed to find a spot to sit and he sat next to you. looking out at the ocean, you put your attention on the sound of the people walking by and talking, the ocean, and music coming from the bars in the background. however, even with all the noise, you couldn't drown out your thoughts. you didn't even have to fight but you could feel that your team wasn't on the same page. you could feel a loss coming if they didn't get it together. they needed to trust

each other again but it would never be that easy. on top of that, you felt as if your choice of new friends could make things worse if they were to find out. you were torn, wanting to be there with your friends for an important moment in all of their lives but also to disappear into the background of barcelona with axel. why did he have to be on the opposing team? why couldn't it be simple?

axel, on the other hand, was only able to think about you. he already knew how to deal with pressure. he knew what his body could and couldn't do. he knew the ways sensei wolf would push him. he had been trained for this. his life was his sport and maybe that was the problem. he was never allowed any time to let anyone into his life. he was the best in karate and nothing else and you still saw him. not just the talented fighter, you saw axel. and you wanted him. he wasn't going to just let you go like that. he knew it wouldn't be that easy but he never backed down from a challenge.

bracing himself for the possibility of rejection, he cleared his throat. "do you want to get dinner tonight?" axel asked, finally turning to look at you.

"tonight?" he nodded. "yeah, i would love to." you nodded, blush creeping onto your face. "we should probably head back."

"no." axel grabbed your hand. it wasn't forceful, but gentle and assertive all at once. your stomach did a somersault. "let's sit for a little while more, yeah?"

"okay." he didn't let your hand go and you didn't make a move to let go either. it was nice, being able to just sit with him by the beach and melt into all the people coming and going. it felt natural, like you were meant to be here in this moment with axel.

axel wasn't used to this kind of softness in his life. he was built on routine and structure. his life had always been goal oriented. rarely did he have moments to just sit and think. a couple serene minutes went by and your phone started ringing.

"miguel d. is calling"

"sorry, i have to take this." you stood up and answered your phone. "hey."

"where are you? there's only an hour until the next event."

"i went for a walk to clear my head, i'll be back soon."

"okay, because i could really use some support. everyone's focus is all over the place. it's like they don't care if we lose." miguel sighed into the phone. your heart skipped a beat. here you were with your attention on axel.

"i know, they're gonna exhaust themselves fighting each other before they get to the mat."

"yeah." miguel laughed a little. "i wish you had chosen to compete for a spot. it would have been nice to have you and sam on my side. we're outnumbered."

"it's gonna be okay. it will get worked out."

"i hope so."

you looked back at axel. "i'll be back soon, okay?"

"okay."

you hung up the phone and gave axel a tight lipped smile. "i have to go."

"what about tonight?" he stood up, taking a step towards you.

"i'll see you at nine." you waved goodbye, leaving him standing there in the sand. axel looked forward to getting his matches out of the way and being able to properly take you out.

***

axel was good at shutting down his emotions. emotions didn't help his karate. precision and discipline were all he needed on the mat. still, he couldn't help the jealousy that plucked his heartstrings when he saw you and miguel talking. the way you looked at him, you made him seem incredibly important to you. the way you were smiling and laughing, blocking the playful jabs he sent your way. axel wished it were him.

"sam, come get your kid." you managed to jab miguel in the stomach after his playful assault.

"ow!" miguel dramatically threw his arms up.

"that's what you get." sam laughed and he placed an arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of her head which axel did not see.

the matches began and you couldn't help but be immersed in axel's fights. he was doing amazing, as usual. he was lazer focused and no one stood in his way. he was untouchable. you were glad you weren't fighting, or else you would be majorly distracted by the way he would shoot a look at you after every point he gained. you just couldn't look away from him. he was magnetic.

once miyagi do faced their first opponent, furia de pantera, you felt all the anxiety of the day rushing back up.

demitri stubbornly and stupidly refused to tag in eli which resulted in the panthers landing the first point. sam managed to land a point on their female captain but eli refused to tag in kenny and tagged sam again. she managed to hold her own for a while, blocking and countering every strike. they weren't letting her tag out because they could tell she was getting tired keeping up her defense. almost all the panthers got a turn with sam, all of them incredibly quick and strong. diego, or "spanish hawk" as demitri called him, getting the last round. he blocked another of sam's kicks and swept her standing leg. sam fell to the floor with a shout. she fell on her ankle at an excruciating angle. the entire arena could hear a loud pop as she hit the ground. you grimaced at the sound of her cry in agony. the spanish team all looked at each other with concern and diego was apologizing profusely as the referee ushered him away.

"sam!" miguel rushed to sams side as she held her ankle in the center of the mat, rolling around in pain.

"medic! we need a medic!" daniel larusso rushed to sam's other side, frantically trying to help.

back in the locker room, the medic was putting a brace on sams ankle. "we managed to get the swelling down but you need to stay off of it for the next few days so it can heal."

"so does that mean...?" sam asked, eyes already teary because she knew what was coming.

"you're not gonna be able to finish competing." the medic and daniel talked for a minute before she left. sam was holding miguels hand, resting her head on a pillow while letting silent tears stream down her face.

"refs said it was an automatic forfeit. we can still fight the next match in 30 minutes." johnny came back in the room. "automatic forfeit. bullshit."

"she's not gonna be fine in 30 minutes johnny. medic said she can't fight." daniel said pointedly.

"well, we have to do something. we need a female captain to continue." johnny shot back. everyone was exchanging worried glances between each other and then they all turned to look at you.

you looked around you, to make sure you weren't imagining things. "me?"

"yeah, you." johnny nodded. "you got 3rd place at the all valley. doesn't get much better than that."

"you all know i don't fight anymore right? i haven't trained since the all valley. it's been months. what about devon?" you quickly tried to defend yourself.

"believe me, i'd love to but you're the better option for captain. if you had fought me in the woods you would have kicked my ass." devon smiled at you, encouraging you to take the spot but you felt anything but encouraged. your heart was racing, threatening to jump out of your chest.

"i can fight." sam said from her place on the bed while trying to get up. her face contorted in pain as she tried to move her injured foot.

"woah, woah. stop. no offense babe, but if you fight you're just gonna get us all eliminated. i wanted to see you on that podium, but it just wasn't your time." miguel kissed the top of her head and sam could only squeeze her eyes shut and say goodbye to her dream.

"so what's it gonna be? you gonna let all your friends down just because you're scared." johnny questioned you.

"i'm not scared."

"then what?"

you took a deep breath and looked at everyone. robby and miguel both had the same puppy dog expression that made it incredibly hard to say no. devon and kenny both nodded at you in approval. hawk shot you a pleading look. it was all too much again. "i need a minute."

without another word, you quickly walked out of the locker room and into the arena. competitors walked past you, not paying you any mind. you were no one to them. you felt invisible again. your mind didn't stop racing though. you didn't know if you were ready to compete for the world championship of karate. you also didn't know if you could let your friends down like that. you walked aimlessly for a minute before someone tugged you into an obscure corner.

you fight instict kicked in, being incredibly anxious, so you did the first thing you could. you swung your fist right into their face.

"ow." a familiar voice answered the punch. "it's me." axel held his cheek with one hand, rubbing the spot where you hit him.

"axel! i'm so sorry!" you immediately rose your hand to touch his face, gentle this time around. "i didn't mean to hurt you."

"it was a good punch." axel was smiling, trying to make you feel better about it. "but i've had worse."

you frowned, knowing what he was referring to. "i'm still sorry."

"it's okay. where are you going?"

"nowhere."

axel looked at you. he could tell something was off. your responses were quick and breathless. "are you okay?"

you nodded instinctively. "yeah. yeah. yes. i'm good."

"are you sure?" he felt a wall coming up between the two of you and he didn't like it. "you can talk to me."

you let out a little sigh, trying to relax as much as possible with him. you didn't know whether you could trust him or not with him being on silver's team and you felt a lump in your throat preventing you from being honest. "yeah. i saw your matches. you were amazing." you were as honest as you could be. he was killing it.

"thanks." axel looked you up and down, noticing your tense body language. your arms were crossed and your foot anxiously tapped the ground.

"how do you do it?"

"what?"

"how do you stay undefeated?"

axel looked at you, curious as to where this was coming from. "i train hard. i stay focused. i use my strengths and know my opponent's weakness. i only ever lost once. never again." you were nodding along as he spoke. "why?"

you inhaled sharply. you wanted to tell him. "it's complicated. i'm-"

"she's gotta be around here somewhere." robby's voice was faint but distinct.

"i wish find my phone was a little more precise." miguels voice approached closer.

"those are my friends, i gotta go." you gave him an apologetic look. "i'll see you tonight."

you left axel, once again, and immediately faced miguel and robby. "hey, so i know this isn't ideal-" robby started, already preparing a speech in his head to try to convince you.

"i'll fight." you cut him off.

"what?" the two asked, equally confused at your turnaround.

"i'll fight. i just need a gi. and some training." you looked at the time on your phone. "match starts in like 20 minutes right?"

they nodded and very quickly ushered you back into the locker room. "she's gonna fight." robby announced, and everyone's eyes lit up.

daniel larusso smiled, proud of your decision. "you can handle this." he spoke as he tied the headband around your head.

"now go get dressed, our captain's gonna help bring you up to speed." johnny placed a hand on robby's shoulder, giving you an encouraging nod.

"sam..." you started and she immediately stopped you.

"it's okay. i trust you. we all do." sam gave you a supportive smile and nod.

the miyagi do insignia on the back of your gi has meant many different things for you at many different parts of your life. this time it meant redemption, to finally fight for the right reasons.

robby and your sensei's did the best they could to prepare you for the match, stressing defense and not letting them land a point on you. don't do anything too risky. you could leave it up to your team, at least in this one, to score the points.

stepping out onto the mat was even more intimidating than you thought it would be. you were no longer a spectator. you were an enemy. more than that, you were a spectacle. a shiny new toy. you felt eyes on you from every angle, terry silver smiled at you. kreese eyed you curiously. tory looked at you in disbelief. she couldn't believe that she might have to face you for the first time since the all valley where she's not even sure she really won any of her matches.

"replacing samantha larusso as captain for the miyagi do team is y/n l/n." the announcer did his job, making your name sound incredibly grand next to all of these excellent fighters.

then there was axel.

he was staring at you, as per usual, but with surprise in his eyes. your gaze softened. the most you could do was give him a discreet nod of acknowledgment and face the two fighters in the center.

miguel started the match this time around. it was miyagi do v. redentores. he was doing great, just unable to break his opponent's defense. he glanced over his shoulder and looked at you, tagging you in. "you got this."

your adrenaline carried you as you bounced on your toes, waiting for your opponent to strike. he looked you up and down, scoffed, and then started attacking.

you were agile, jumping nearly 6 feet in the air when he tried to sweep your leg. you landed on your feet. "ais!" you shouted, throwing a fast combination of punches and kicks that your opponent dodged. you backed him into a corner until he tagged another girl on his team. she was mainly kicking, using her legs more than any other part of her body. you saw an opening and took it, blocking her next kick with one arm and then sweeping her leg from beneath her, axe kicking her while she was on the floor.

"point!"

"let's go." you ran over to robby, tagging him in. "it's time."

"come on, captain." miguel clapped his hands together and watched the scene fold out in front of him.

he very easily got the second point but his last opponent was simply too quick for him to land a point on.

"robby, tag me!" kenny called out.

"no, me!" hawk said in return.

"tag me."

"do not tag him!"

robby was able to take a breath and centered himself before tagging in kenny. it was amazing, but not surprising, that kenny won the winning point. while on top of your shoulders, he flipped off terry silver and your heart swelled with pride. of course, you had your own beef with terry (who wouldn't after he made you break wooden boards that were so thick that it drew blood and wrecked your hands) but kenny finally stuck it to him. kenny was free from the intimidation and cruelty that is terry silver.

across the room, even in the embrace of your team and sensei's, you felt the familiar sensation of being watched. of course, it was axel and for once he looked happy in the arena, not just determined. you smiled back in his direction before you had to leave the mat.

"y/n, that was awesome." devon came rushing to your side. "i almost forgot that you can jump that high."

"more of that." johnny fist bumped you as miguel grabbed your shoulders and gently shook you. when he let go, you noticed axel walking right in your direction. he wasn't even looking at you. he walked directly into miguel with his shoulder, making miguel stumble, and then past you guys like nothing.

"what the hell was that?" miguel said, very confused and annoyed. he thought he had been imagining the death stares that the iron dragon leader had been shooting him from across the mat all day. the two hadn't even faced each other yet. he couldn't think of a single reason why the guy wouldn't like him.

"i don't know." you looked back at axel who was staring at you and miguel. you shot him a questioning look before turning back around but axel watched you go.

there was only 5 minutes until the tie breaker with cobra kai. after an emotional pep talk and a quick talk with your sensei's on areas of improvement, you were ready. you were even excited. your confidence was steadily rising and your team was more in sync than ever. you were ready.

"nervous?" miguel asked approaching you

at the edge of the mat.

"not scared though."

he laughed a little. "you know, when i first met you, this is the last place i thought we would end up."

"yeah, me too. i didn't think the annoying, scrawny, little kid would be one of the best fighters in the world. never seen that one coming." you teased and he rolled his eyes.

"yeah, yeah, yeah. i didn't think ugly betty would be my best friend, fighting by my side in the world tournament of karate." he referred to the era before you got contacts where you wore unflattering glasses and had no sense of style.

you smiled. "oh shut up..."

"you know, i'm really happy we became friends."

"me too, miggy."

he draped an arm around your shoulder. "best chance i ever took."

you rolled your eyes and shoved miguel away from you. "you were the most risky chance i ever took. being your friend put a target on my back."

miguel rose his arms in defense. "hey, hey. let's not bring up the past now. remember when your friends broke into my girlfriends house-"

"better to leave the past in the past." you laughed a little. "thank you, miguel. none of us would be here if it wasn't for you." you looked down at your hands. "i wanna apologize-"

"don't." he stopped you. "you apologize like every month. i already forgave you for everything, even before you came back to the our side. you're a major reason we all made it here. i wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. you don't have to keep apologizing.

you did your time."

you remembered meeting miguel when he moved in next door and encouraging miguel to take the karate classes. it felt like yesterday for the both of you. miguel's your best friend. nothing more, nothing less. you had been through a lot together. you're grateful he was able to forgive you. you knew the two of you would be friends for a long, long time. without another word, you hugged miguel tightly. he hugged you back just as tight. "our match is about to start."

from afar, axel watched the interaction with a broken heart. of course, you were in love with your best friend. he never stood a chance against miguel, the guy who completely changed your life. seeing you in miguel's arms put a pit in axels stomach, one that threatened to swallow him whole. if he was fighting, someone might actually be able to land a point on him. he never felt this before and he didn't know how to stop it.

the last match was incredibly close but miyagi do won. robby took the win for you for you guys in his last fight against kwon. you don't know what exactly happened but he honed in on all his skills, letting go of whatever was keeping him from performing at his peak. he kicked kwon's ass and everyone was proud of him. your sensei's even let the team hit the streets for the night as long as you all got enough sleep and you didn't do anything they wouldn't do (terrible words to come out of johnny lawrence's mouth).

"you guys seriously aren't going out tonight?" you stood up from your vanity, finished getting ready. it was 8:45pm. miguel was sitting on sam's bed next to sam while devon was in your shared bed.

"nah, it's gonna be a chill night in." miguel rested his head on sam's shoulder. her crutches rested on the wall besides them.

"kinda disappointed we didn't get to see more of barcelona." sam frowned.

"me too."

"i think you two should go out." you said, looking over your shoulder as you grabbed the door handle. "you can always meet us at the bar. come on devon."

you waved devon over and she followed you out of the room. once in the elevator you sighed. "okay. you remember the plan right?"

"i go to the bar with the team and tell them that you're training. if i get back before you do, i tell sam the same thing." devon nodded.

"i really appreciate you doing this for me, dev."

"of course. so are you really not gonna tell me who it is? is it kwon? i saw you two talking at the bar." devon asked, eyes wide and full of a youthful curiosity.

"it's not kwon. ew." you laughed. "when i do decide to tell everyone, you'll be the first. i still need to test the waters. see if i can trust him, you know?" you replied, looking at the time on your phone. you hated to group axel in with silver but he was the captain of silver's team. you felt like you couldn't be sure about his intentions with you and you hated it. he's been nothing but sweet to you.

"okay." devon accepted. "just call us if anything goes wrong and it's a sneak attack."

"i don't think it is, but i know you guys will come running if i need you." you smiled warmly at her. "thank you, again."

"anytime. plus i know you'll have my back when i'm off doing secret boyfriend things."

the elevator doors opened and you stepped out. "be safe okay?"

"okay." you nodded and watched the elevator close, devon going back up to the boys room.

as if on queue, the neighboring elevators doors opened and axel emerged. he was immediately drawn towards you. you had on plenty of shiny jewelry but he was drawn to your eyes the most. you captivated him. he almost forgot the scene he witnessed in the arena where you and miguel couldn't get your hands off of each other. almost. he still had his guard up, especially now after your surprise entry into the sekai tekai. he needed to know if he could trust you. "i didn't think you were coming since..." he trailed off.

"because i'm captain now?" you asked and he nodded. you looked around. "we're not in the arena anymore. we're done for the night." you gave him a reassuring smile. "you look great." you took his hand that was outstretched to you. he was wearing a white knit longsleeve and brown pants, black belt with a silver buckle and black chuck taylors. it was nice to see his personal style and how it compared to the vibe he gave off in the arena.

"you too. let's go?" he asked and you nodded, walking out of the hotel. you started walking in the direction of the beach district but axel stopped, keeping you in place.

"what are you doing?"

"this is a date. you think i would let you walk?" axel asked, amused at your confusion. a taxi pulled up and he opened the door for you. "after you."

you were caught off guard. "thank you." you got in the taxi, axel coming in next to you. you had somewhat limited dating experience. you dated eli before he broke up with you to date moon and you dated robby for a few weeks after he got out of juvie before he started showing interest in tory. it was like every guy you dated eventually left you for another girl but axel was focused on you. you felt small under his gaze. you never had someone pay so much attention to you.

"don't thank me. it's the least i can do." he squeezed your hand and you smiled at him, resting your head on his shoulder. axel couldn't help but lean into your affection. he also couldn't help but worry what your intentions were. were you and miguel trying to get in his head with a sick joke? was any of it sincere? he pushed the thoughts away as best as he could and kept you close as the ride went on.

axel paid the driver as you guys left the taxi. you were in front of a restaurant and bar that your friends passed on last night in favor of the tapas bar. this one was definitely more low key and atmospheric. the lights were dim purple and blue and the music was a soft instrumental. axel did all the talking, speaking spaniard spanish, which you weren't expecting at all.

you two were led to a table in the corner, by a window with a good view of the street. it was a truly romantic setting, with roses in the center and two candles illuminating your table. you two were silent for the first minutes, enjoying the music and exchanging glances and smiles after ordering food and drinks.

"we should start talking right?" you sighed. "one of the main reasons i like being with you is that we don't need to talk, but we have to get to know each other at some point. right?"

"right." axel nodded, thinking of what he could say. "that was a nice point you got on nichols. you can jump really high. maybe even world record." he tried to keep it light.

"thanks." you turned red under his compliments as you bit your lip. "is it okay if we don't talk about karate right now?" axel froze. martial arts were his whole life. what else could he talk about? you could tell he wasn't ready for that so you decided to try and break the ice. "have you ever been here before?" you asked.

"once, on my last trip to spain. me and zara came here after a... tournament." axel smiled sheepishly, mentioning karate after you asked him not to.

"are you and zara close?"

"not really."

"how come?"

"competition. in our dojo, there can only be one number one. in the tournament, we can work together because we both want to win, but outside of the tournament we don't even really talk." you hated to admit it to yourself but hearing that was a relief. you didn't know what you would have done if they were a thing. "sorry, you don't want to talk about karate."

"no, i'm sorry. it was kind of unfair to ask. i mean we're competing in the world tournament of karate." you laughed at yourself a little. you were nervous but you could also tell he was nervous as well.

"okay, why did you take the captain spot?"

now it was your turn to freeze up. "i know larusso got hurt, but why you?" you tilted your head to the side a bit. "not like that! that was rude i didn't mean why you, i meant-"

"i know." it was the most you ever seen him talk at once and you almost didn't want to stop him. "i stopped fighting a few months ago. i lost a tournament. 3rd place. i tried to stay out of all the drama. i dedicated myself to school. i didn't think i would compete again." you took a deep breath. "i stopped fighting because i hated who i became when i learned how. i have regrets, a lot of them having to do with my teammates. this is my chance to fight for the right reasons. i owe it to them."

the silence weighed heavy. axel took in your words. "don't you owe it to yourself too?" he asked.

before you had a chance to answer, the waiter came over with the water you both asked for. you took a sip from your glass and when you met axel's eyes he was still waiting for your answer. you realized then that axel would never let you avoid or evade anything with him. you admired it. you had the tendency to shut down when it all got to be too much.

"i don't know." you shrugged. "it's complicated."

"sounds like it." axel's foot bumped your under the table. "sorry."

"it's okay." you bumped his foot back and then you two were playing footsie. it felt nice to be giggling with a boy you liked. you felt like a normal girl who could go on a date. you almost forgot what it felt like to relax before meeting axel.

you two recieved your food and about halfway through enjoying it, you froze. "what?" axel asked. he followed your line of sight out of the window until he saw miguel walking up to the entrance of the restaurant. "what's he doing here?" his entire demeanor changed. miguel's entrance made axel completely tense up. you were tense too but once you noticed axel's composure, everything clicked. the constant glares in the arena, his tendency to roar whenever your team was front and center to one of his matches, the shove he gave miguel earlier today. axel was jealous. it was amusing when it finally sank in. axel was jealous of the closest thing you ever got to a brother. you basically saw miguel as a germ and axel thought the two of you were together. the thought of a romance made you wildly uncomfortable because he was literally like your brother. it was like he completely missed any sam and miguel interaction. you noticed him holding open the door for sam but it was like axel was completely missing the big picture again.

"i invited him."

axel's heart dropped. he looked at you and you were smiling. proud of yourself. he felt sick. everything he tried not to think about you was true. you were using him, playing with him. he let himself get carried away with the idea that you could actually like him. "you what?"

"oh yeah, i told him to come. thought you should finally meet him." you pointed over his shoulder and he turned around, seeing miguel and sam kissing while swaying together. "and his girlfriend. sam."

axel went red with embarrassment and he quickly turned back around to face you. he didn't know how he could miss that. the two never left each others side on the mat until she got injured. he was the first one to run to her side when she got hurt. now, rethinking all the interactions that he seen between you and miguel, he may have been reading into some things. he turned back to you, shameful blush all over his face and ears.

"did you really think i was with miguel?" you scrunched your nose like miguel had cooties or something. "he's a brother to me."

"i'm sorry-"

"don't apologize to me, apologize to him." you couldn't help but laugh at the situation. "you're cute when you're jealous, axel." he felt his face burn even hotter. taking his hand in yours, you looked into his eyes. "i promise you can trust me."

he stared into your eyes and he was able to see that you also needed the reassurance. you weren't some master manipulator, you were a girl with stories and he wanted to hear all of them. he wanted to tell you his stories and create new ones with you. "and you can trust me."

at the same time, sam and miguel were seated at a table across the room. miguel's back was turned towards your table but sam had a clear view of the exchange.

the two of you had long forgotten sam and miguel, leaning over the table to kiss.

it was a syrupy sweet, playful kiss. your lips moved in time with the guitar playing in the background. you were giggling, and you could feel his smile against your lips. he gently bit your lip and you gasped, pulling away to peck his lips a few times before trailing your kisses away from his lips. you kissed the side of his mouth, all over his cheek, and over his jawline.

"i like you." you whisper when you get close to his ear.

"i like you too." he leaned into yours. "you wanna go?"

"okay." you nod and he stands up, taking your hand and leading you out of the restaurant.

the two of you spend the rest of the night kissing on the beach, both of you finally able to be yourselves with the other.

sam spends the rest of the night trying to focus on miguel and not the fact that you were macking it with the captain of terry silver's team.

#axel kovacevic #axel cobra kai #axel kovacevic x reader #cobra kai x reader

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xlatrina · 7 months ago

Text

(Pt. II.1) Friends to Lovers HCs w/Homicipher x GN!Reader

Tags: Platonic + Romantic HCs, Friends to Lovers trope for basically every LI, Likely OOC for some LIs*, Mini Scenarios (so HCs are kinda plot-driven), *Multi-Part Series, entirely SFW

Also, changing tenses in some cases + not proofread again... sorry!

*Some of the LIs are likely written OOC (Out Of Character) mainly due to a lack of substantial in-game appearances (at least in my opinion!).

*Split into multiple parts because I’ve come to realize that these HCs are muuucccchhh too long 😅 BUT!! I’m too lazy to shorten them sooo… YEAH lol

Part I (Big 🙆‍♂️)

Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓)

Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)

$$$

Mr. Chopped (First Half/Second Half)

For someone who’s just a head, he gets around!

When you decided to help him out back in that weird room, Mr. Chopped was so elated.

Yes, yes!! Finally, some help!!

He’s been stuck in that room for like… three hours.

Which isn’t that bad, it definitely could’ve been worse, but like… still.

Anywho, point is —he decided from that moment forward that the two of you are friends!

Good friends, at that.

He tells Mr. Silvair this all the time.

“Mystery person help! They help me! They friendly!” He’ll grin from ear to ear, his cheeks squeezing into his eyes.

And Mr. Silvair will just chuckle and say something along the lines of, “Mystery person good? How interesting.”

Mr. Chopped has volunteered you to be one of his closest buddies.

Which means you are now basically his caretaker LMAO

Or at least whenever Mr. Silvair is unavailable somehow.

“Could you carry? Can you help me?”

This’ll become a common request from Mr. Chopped.

Eventually, it goes from asking to demanding.

“You take me! Go there! Yes, yes! That way! Is ok. This place I know good!”

He says that, but you’ve circled the same set of halls like… three times.

It can get a little weary sometimes being Mr. Chopped’s defacto caretaker, but he tries to keep your mood light with his silly banter.

Even though he’s been in the Apartments longer than you, it seems he hasn’t been there as long as others.

He more or less explains this to you over time.

On one of your many adventures through the halls of the apartment complex, the both of you came across a door that led into a stairwell.

It was odd because it kind of just… appeared.

You’ve definitely walked down this hall quite a few times now (no thanks to Mr. Chopped’s fluctuating sense of direction).

When you propose going through the stairwell, Mr. Chopped purses his lips tightly and falls silent for a long time.

Just as you get ready to ask again, he huffs, blowing some loose strands away from his face.

“That way want to go?” He asks. But before you can respond, he follows up with, “That ok. If there to go you want, that ok. But I not know that place…”

Ah…

Well! If nothing else, you can’t say Mr. Chopped isn’t adventurous!

Being friends with Mr. Chopped means you get to see all of his cute little expressions.

He always has an exaggerated reaction to everything!

Walking through the stairwell, for example, one of the lights flickered, and just as it went completely black for a second, there was a quiet whisper. When the lights came back on, the whisper bounced through the area, lifting up toward wherever the stairs led to…

When that happened, Mr. Chopped immediately asked, “What you say? I not hear good.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you said. Mr. Chopped seems confused by your response, and to the best of your ability, you repeat yourself in his language.

“You say you not make sound?” He asks sharply, his voice thundering through the stairwell.

You jump in surprise, jostling him (much to his mild annoyance and discomfort).

“No, no make sound,” You said. “Do you make sound?”

“No! No make sound!” Mr. Chopped yells. Small tears gather in the corners of his eyes, and he squeezes them shut as a deep frown seeps into his face.

“Leave here together! Me scared! This place not safe!”

Safe to say you booked the both of you out of there as soon as you could.

It isn’t too long after that, though, that the two of you finally find yourself in the familiar hall leading to the basement. There, you two find Mr. Silvair just as he’s about to enter the room, and noticing your approaching figure at the top of the stairs, Mr. Silvair smiles warmly.

He lets you and Mr. Chopped in first, and it’s then that you both begin to tell Mr. Silvair about y’all’s odd experience.

Though, Mr. Chopped did more of the talking…

So much more of the talking, lol.

At some point, you and Mr. Silvair find yourselves sitting on the couch, and Mr. Chopped nestles into the space between you two.

He just continues to babble on and on and on about the somewhat scary adventure you both had, and you and Mr. Silvair patiently listen.

Sometimes, you wonder who can yap more —Mr. Chopped or Mr. Crawling?

That being said, Mr. Chopped likely develops feelings for you after just being in your presence for long enough.

He greatly appreciates you helping him maneuver through the Apartments, and he knows Mr. Silvair appreciates your help, too.

These days, Mr. Chopped finds himself talking with both Mr. Silvair and you!

And soon, there are many moments more when Mr. Chopped finds himself talking with you alone.

You’re just so fun to talk to, he feels like he can talk to you about anything!

Continue? -> Second Half

[Part I (Mr. Big 🙆‍♂️) | Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓, First Half/Second Half), Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)]

#homicipher headcanons #homicipher x reader #homicipher #homicipher fanfiction #homicipher mr chopped #homicipher mr chopped x reader #mr chopped x reader #mr chopped #x reader #gender neutral reader

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songmingisthighs · 8 months ago

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Maudit

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. vi - a fox to catch

cursed!jongho × reader

wc : 1.8 k

genre : mythology!au, smau

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

tw: mentions of death (wanting to die naturally), mentions of attempted suicide

buy me coffee ?

so long i've been here, so long are the stories i've written. of what i gathered and lost, loneliness becomes me and pain refuse to depart from me. i've embraced that which ate me away so when you came along, i had no part of me left to give.

Jongho never really liked going into the woods. Well, he used to be okay with it because he had no choice. But the modernization of South Korean civilization had coddled him with a cool AC breeze and mosquito repellant. Jongho would very much rather doing his responsibilities indoors where he won't end up sweating through his outfit and appearing with red scratch marks around his neck and ear. So he harboured slight resentment against the Fox Keeper who INSIST they meet at the forest behind a temple on the other side of town. No matter how much Jongho insisted that he had seen the Keeper in cafes, the Keeper still wouldn't budge. Not even a tiny bit, not even to meet up at the temple itself.

Whilst cringing, Jongho stepped into the vicinity of the sacred tree and stared up at it, "Okay, hyung, come out now because I don't have a lot of time," he called out.

Knowing that the Fox Keeper is mischievous, Jongho let his eyes roam in anticipation of the guy showing up. The last time he let his guard down, the Fox Keeper led Jongho into a trap and only let him go eight hours later.

Thankfully, this time the Fox Keeper showed himself by peeking out of the back of the tree whilst standing on one of its large trunks. "Hey! There's my favourite cursed human!" He teased, jumping off the high trunk and landing safely on the ground, "Feels like it's been three years since I've last seen you!" Jongho rolled his eyes but stepped closer to him, "That's because I try to keep our meetings rare and short hyung." The Keeper snickered and patted Jongho on the shoulder, "Is that why you still refuse to call me by my name?" Jongho scoffed but smirked teasingly, "No, Yeonjun hyung, I just avoid using it too much in case you work like Beetlejuice." Yeonjun rolled his eyes and detached himself from Jongho in faux annoyance, "Okay, first of all, that man is a fashion icon what with combining black and white and purple and neon green together. Second, I have better things to do other than waiting for one of you to call me up and bother me."

"Is one of those things you do looking for the reincarnation of Ahyoung?" Jongho shot. Yeonjun sighed and shook his head, "You really are a no-bullshit type of man, huh? Can't you spare 15 minutes of chit-chat and catching up BEFORE you shoot straight to the point? I mean for fuck's sake, Jongho, we've known each other for three hundred years, I would imagine we'd see each other more often than this AND outside of necessities!" he complained. Jongho could feel his whole left cheek muscle twitching at the older man's words and through gritted teeth he pointed out, "Well, had we met at say a cafe, I would have DEFINITELY be willing to spare 15 minutes- heck, even half an hour to talk to you about nonsense before we get down to the point but nooooooo you just HAD to meet at this mosquito-infested serial-killer playground." "You do know that they put up a shrine for the Fox Keeper here right? They sort of pray to me for protection and stuff?" "And you do know that I just saw one of your foxes piss on one of your statues, right?" Jongho deadpanned.

Annoyed (at how Jongho was pointing out the truth), Yeonjun scoffed and started walking, signalling for Jongho to follow him along.

Now side by side, Jongho and Yeonjun started talking about the thing that had got Jongho on edge. "Well, I still can't sense anything," Yeonjun started, looking straight at the forest, "All I could sense was your curse and even then, nothing was pulling towards it. Do you still have the bead bracelet I gave you?" Jongho raised his left wrist to show that he was in fact wearing the item in question, "Has it ever changed colours?" "No, never and like you suggested, I've never even taken it off," Jongho sighed.

Yeonjun halted his steps momentarily to turn and put a hand on Jongho's shoulder, effectively also stopping him in his tracks, "You... You've been out and about to meet the potential person, right?" Jongho frowned and nodded slowly, "Yes? I've been out and about?" he was confused by the question. "No, no, no, no, not just out and about, but you've actually been trying to look for her right?" Then he stopped mid-sentence, "Or maybe it's not even a 'her' after all. No, no, no, no, no, what if that sorcerer pulled another stunt and stuck you with a 'him'?" At that, Jongho pushed Yeonjun who was in the middle of thinking a bit too harshly that he stumbled and almost fell down. "What the hell are you talking about!?" Staggering, Yeonjun stood back up and raised both of his hands, "Well, we've never considered this before but is it not a possibility? This is the same man who cursed you to roam the earth until god knows when for funsies just because you shut down his business!" Hearing that, Jongho paused to think if it was even possible because, in all honesty, he had never considered that and as much as he wanna say no, it seemed like something a cruel man would do to punish him. "I can see the wheels in your brain turning. I think if I get close enough, I can hear it and if we wait a bit more I think I can smell the smoke," Yeonjun teased which earned him a (hard) slap on the arm from Jongho but he just laughed it off.

Soon, the two resumed their walk and they did it in silence, just so they could take a moment from the chaos of their lives.

"I don't know how much longer of this I can take," Jongho opened up. "Take what?" Yeonjun asked, "This... Being cursed to live too long while everyone who had ever mattered to me died and I still have to sit in anticipation of meeting her again after all this time," Jongho sighed. Yeonjun pursed his lips in contemplation, "I mean, it's not like she's gonna remember anything, you know? Like yeah sure, you'll be the one bearing all the pain, but... Are you even ready to meet her and face whatever comes next?"

Jongho never really took into consideration what will come AFTER he finds the girl. He was so caught up with well, trying to catch up with times, that he never really considered what that would entail. Back then, during the first year or two of him dealing with being cursed, all he wanted to do was to immediately reverse the curse so he could... you know, die like a normal person. It came as such a surprise for him when he tried to stab himself with his sword during the darkest time of his life. It was after Ahyoung died and the reality came crashing down on him. Luckily, it was then that he met Hongjoong, the reaper who came to inform him that his soul was indefinitely chained to the earth and after a meltdown, Hongjoong (with the help of Yunho and Yeosang) brought the unconscious Jongho back to the library. That "nap" lasted two days and after that, Jongho felt slightly better.

"Was anyone ever ready to face anything?" Jongho asked, chuckling to himself as some sort of a way to hide his fear. Yeonjun smirked and nudged Jongho on the shoulder, "Yeah, I remember you on the cusp of modern civilization, holding onto your horse and carriage, stating that you'll never get into a death machine and now look at you and your ugly ass Hyundai Palisade." Jongho threw a glare at Yeonjun and punched him on his shoulder again, "It's a nice car and my assistant recommended it, you jerk," he huffed.

Yeonjun rubbed his arm whilst hissing to ease the pain of the impact from Jongho's fist but even as he did so, he decided to point out, "For someone who complained about his assistant trying to keep him up with technology, you sure do listen to her like A LOT. How's it going with her anyway? And by that, I do mean when can I meet her because so far, she's the only girl I can sense off of you." There was a hint of red on Jongho's cheeks at the mention of his assistant leaving traces on him but Jongho was quick enough to turn away completely from Yeonjun, "I'm less concerned about her shoving a rectangular fruit-named phone into my hands and more about the fact that you seem to not be able to stop sniffing me even when you don't need to," he muttered to himself. Knowing that he got him, Yeonjun snickered to himself but kept all the comment he could threw in just in case Jongho decide to throw another punch.

As another silenced period washed over them, both Yeonjun and Jongho calmed down until they reached the edge of the forest and the backdoor of the temple was merely a meter or two away.

Yeonjun put a hand out to stop Jongho and stepped in front of him, "Hey man, look, no matter what, I'm... Sorry that I don't have better news to tell you. I would if I could and I did everything I know from the time I worked with sorcerers. Frankly, at this point, the only two options are to expand our search to another continent or... Find the sorcerer and... I don't know, torture him into letting your soul go?"

Despite the bad news, Jongho couldn't help but crack up a bit at Yeonjun's attempt to comfort him. So he nodded and gratefully patted Yeonjun on the shoulder, "I get it hyung. It's been... What? 500 years? If it's not happening then, it's not happening now and I just have to..." A sudden weight appeared on Jongho's chest and as he exhaled, his breath shook, "I have to keep trying and keep searching. I'll try to expand my search or something but... Thanks," he smiled and before Yeonjun could comfort him more, Jongho stepped around him and walked back to the temple, "Say hi to your friend the moon bunny for me!" Jongho called out, grinning as he turned slightly to look at Yeonjun. Yeonjun scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Tell that to him yourself, he's waiting for that gaming rematch and you better set up something soon or else Soobin is just gonna bitch at me!" Yeonjun called back out.

As Jongho walked back to his modern car, memories flooded his head and he couldn't help but think about how such a long time has passed and compare his humble beginning and his current situation. Looking down at the phone in his hand, he saw the last text you sent to him about his schedule and he couldn't help but feel his fingers tingling and his chest burning. The grin on his face dropped and his face turned sullen.

Truly, truly he was tired.

network :

@cultofdionysus @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@dinossaurz @redzie02 @stayatinykatsy @tinyelfperson @allisonleannn @yukichan67 @phenomenalgirl9 @dawn-iscozy @aestheticsluut @krustycangrejo @teenyfinds @kirbrary @thedistractedwriter @gxlden-bxbyy @huachengsbestie01 @charreddonuts

@roronoas-wife

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spooky-pomegranate · 11 months ago

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Eyes on Fire (pt 5)

*Enemies to Lovers inspired by the Year Zero music video*

Papa Emeritus II x Reader (18+) Word Count: 3.8k Read on AO3 Get caught up: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Next chapter: (Part 6)

Summary: You befriend a ghoul close to Papa Secondo and learn that appearances aren't always what they seem. Meanwhile, Secondo deals with new feelings that threaten to consume him.

(Dividers by @wrathofrats)

It’d been hours since you woke up in Secondo’s bedroom. He’d left you in a hurry not long after you’d risen, claiming he had “important duties to attend to,” but not before demanding you stay and rest for the remainder of the day.

You’d objected.

Even though you’d slept for ten hours you’d felt fine, albeit a bit disoriented and hungrier than a horse. The only thing you’d really wanted to do was scurry off to the ghoul dens and tell Mountain everything that had happened before crashing in his oversized bed.

But Secondo never offered you that choice.

“You will stay until I return sorrella,” he had said.

And to make sure you followed his orders, Secondo had called for Alpha to watch over you. You’d seen Alpha many times over the years but you had never actually talked to the quiet fire ghoul. He didn’t interact much with humans and the circle of ghouls he associated with was small. Omega. Crust. Occasionally Aero.

Primo summoned him years before you joined the church, but everyone knew where his loyalties truly lied. For as long as you could remember, Alpha had been Secondo’s right-hand ghoul. Day in and day out the two were an inseparable pair. There were of course rumors that the fire ghoul was Secondo’s secret lover but you never believed those whispers. It always seemed to you that Alpha followed Secondo around more like a loyal knight protecting his king rather than a groupie chasing after a Papa in shimmering robes. Duty and honor just felt more likely than love and lust.

But there was a plus side to being held hostage in Secondo’s chambers by the stoic fire ghoul. Before Secondo had left he’d given Alpha two commands. The first, annoyingly, was that under no conditions were you allowed to leave… but the second command was the one that had you smiling mischievously from ear to ear.

“While she’s here she wants for nothing,” Papa Secondo had said.

Wants for nothing…

There was no way, Secondo knew what he had done. It was like handing a kid the keys to the candy store. And ohhhhhh were you going to indulge, until your sweet tooth rotted. So far you’d tested the boundaries by ordering a ginormous breakfast. Eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, cinnamon rolls, hash-browns, bagels, salmon. Hell, you even ordered the expensive caviar the senior clergy had on hand for the more lavish parties. You’d ordered everything that the kitchen could make until it filled up almost the entirety of Secondo’s bedroom floor. The spread had been like a dream. Salty. Sweet. Savory.

With enough food to feed a small army, you’d stuffed yourself full and somehow managed to convince your captor to eat as well. Before long both you and Alpha were giggling and laughing as you passed platters of delicious food back and forth.

Surprisingly Alpha was more game to let loose than you’d expected. After breakfast, you’d asked him for half a dozen boquets of fresh flowers and he’d immediately called Primo’s greenhouse without complaint, even suggesting you up the number to a whole dozen.

You nearly died laughing when Mountain had answered on the other end.

“Twelve arrangements. To…to Papa Secondo’s chambers? Really? No. That’s no problem. And when do you need them? ‘As soon as we can.’ Okay. Yeah. No. No, we can do that. We’ll have them delivered in a few hours. Any preference in flower or color?”

Alpha had cocked an eyebrow at you then.

“Something pretty.”

“Something pretty,” he parroted with a smile into the phone.

At your request, Alpha also put in a call to have your record player delivered alongside a handful of your favorite albums and a set of large speakers. By lunchtime, almost every free surface of Papa’s chambers was covered in roses and lilies of varying colors and you were having a great time dancing with your new friend.

During a break in the music and as Alpha picked out a new record, you took some time to look around Papa’s space. His chambers had been… surprising. You expected Secondo to live in a cold and dark place. Something unwelcoming and offputting much like the man himself. But that wasn’t the case. Secondo’s space was beautiful.

Thick oriental carpets covered the cold stone floors and several warm-looking fur blankets laid on a leather couch by an onyx fireplace. Black candles outnumbered the few electric lamps scattered around, casting the room in a fiery glow. Every single piece of furniture looked comfortable and inviting like it was chosen for its purpose over its form. Soft lines, plush fabrics, and rich colors were everywhere.

There were also dozens of beautifully framed art pieces on the wall; sprawling watercolor landscapes of the Abbey’s grounds, a series of charcoal depictions of His fall from grace, and even a few portraits of his brothers from decades prior. Primo with more hair. Terzo with less wrinkles.

Everything about the space felt carefully curated and yet surprisingly lived-in. If it had been anyone else’s room you could have easily imagined yourself here at the end of a long day. Slipping your heels off to walk barefoot on the carpets, curling up on the couch with a glass of wine, letting the fireplace lull you to sleep. It all sounded nice until you remembered the man you’d have to share it with.

You turned away from an oil painting of the Abbey’s winter gardens and moved to the far left corner of Secondo’s room where a small mahogany desk sat. While everyone in the upper clergy had an office in the eastern wing, it was clear that Secondo liked to work from his room. And by the sheer volume of things on his desk, you guessed that work usually ran late into the night.

There were dozens of books scattered about. Some of them open to various pages. Others had hundreds of rainbowed colored plastic tabs sticking out of them. Under the piles of books, you noticed a stack of half-written sermons and lyrics. Immediately you recognized one song. Per Aspera Ad Inferi. It was the same Dew, Cumulus, and Aururoa had played for you in the dens.

As Alpha placed the needle on the next record, you shuffled through some more of Secondo’s unfinished lyrics, sliding pages under pages. Though each song was different, it was clear that Secondo was working on a cohesive work. Everything was heavy on religious themes and doctrines. Satan and his teachings were always at the forefront. There were no love songs. Nothing that spoke of joy or hope. Just dark, heavy verses focusing on reckoning and penance.

“Do you want to dance some more?” Alpha asked, crossing the room as a light jazz song played in the air. You nodded and met the fire ghoul in the middle of the room. Taking his clawed hand in yours the two of you began to sweep around the room in a playful airtight waltz.

“Alpha?” you asked, pressed against the ghoul.

“Yes, sorella.”

“Can I ask you about Papa?”

Alpha’s eyes quickly shot down to yours. “If you are going to ask if he and I-”

“No,” you interrupted. “That’s not. I wasn’t,” you stammered quickly. You didn’t want Alpha to think that you were a gossip. That wasn’t what you wanted to know. “Do you think if you made him angry enough that he’d actually send you back to…” You didn’t need to finish your question. Both you and Alpha knew there was only one place Secondo could return him to.

Alpha stopped dancing, clearly taken aback by the question. His hand froze against your back. “No.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Papa knows I am loyal to him.” Alpha's voice was firm, "He trusts me, perhaps more than he should. But I am bound to him, sorella, just as you are now bound here by his command."

“Why?”

Alpha turned away from you, a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before it was gone. “Papa is misunderstood sorella. You might see anger and rage but there’s more there. There is always more.”

“But you’re sure? You’re sure he’d never do that to you?”

Alpha spun back around and looked down at you, cocking his head to the side, a reminder that sometimes ghouls were more animal-like than human. “Yes. I am sure. But why are you asking me this?”

“Well as lovely a dance partner as you are,” you smiled, “I think it’s time we let loose around here Alpha.” The fire ghoul's eyes twinkled impishly and you realized for as stoic as he’d appeared, Alpha was just as mischievous as you were. “Just two more questions. What's your favorite kind of alcohol? And can I borrow the phone?”

"I have a preference for absinthe," he replied, a sly grin stretching across his face. With a nod, he gestured towards the phone on the desk. You smiled back at your new friend and picked up the phone on Secondo’s bedside table.

“Good afternoon Cardinal Terzo. Yes. Yes, it’s me. I was wondering… do you have any absinthe?”

Secondo had a rough day.

He’d fired his assistant the moment she’d walked into his office and in her absence, his paperwork had piled high. He couldn’t blame the oblivious sorella for that though. She’d only been in his service for a month and had yet to figure out how he liked his coffee or how little he’d liked her idle chit-chat. Secondo knew even if he hadn’t fired her, she probably wouldn’t have helped make a dent in his work.

It was his own fault. He had been distracted.

All day he’d thought of you.

Again and again, he replayed the moment you’d woken up in his room. How small you looked in his massive bed, how terrified you’d been when you’d seen him watching over you, how you’d struggled to catch your breath before jumping out of his sheets. It was all he could think about.

Even after everything that happened Secondo still felt that the Old One had put you in his life for a reason. And while he was pretty sure it was because he needed to make you a better member of the church something was nagging at Secondo, pulling at the back of his mind, like a loose thread he couldn’t reach, that maybe… just maybe he was wrong about that.

But something was connecting you two.

Secondo could feel it. When he was with you he felt something dig in his chest. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It ached and burned and scratched at his insides but when he’d left you this morning… the burning fizzled away. The scratch, the ache all of it was gone. And for some strange reason, he missed it.

Was it another sign he wondered? To want to feel the pain? To need it? To be consumed by it? Sathanas how he wanted to feel it again. But was he supposed to want that? Was he turning into the masochist the siblings whispered he was for wanting that?

If only he could speak to the Dark Lord. If only he had some guidance he could know exactly what to do. If only…

No.

Secondo stopped himself.

As badly as he wanted to commune with the Dark Lord, wallowing in his self-pity wouldn’t solve his problem. He had to move forward. And he would.

He had a plan.

Secondo decided he would ask you to be his assistant again today. He wasn’t sure if you remembered the brief conversation he’d had with you about it before everything turned to shit last night. But he would ask you again. And he would phrase it as less of a choice. He needed you close. He may not be sure why yet. But he knew that he needed to feel that ache you caused.

Secondo sat at his desk, a glass of whiskey in hand, as he poured over the same text for what felt like hours until eventually the clock in the corner struck seven times. The day had come and gone. The pile on his desk remained and now it was time for dinner. Distracted by you, Secondo had skipped every meal and opted instead to snack on a handful of crisps and sweets he kept in his desk throughout the day. He wasn’t interested in going to the dining room now either. His Imperatrix could have the day off. He needed to get back to you. He needed to feel the ache.

But as Secondo stood to leave, he felt another kind of ache. His stomach growled, loud and long. He decided to make a quick pit stop at the kitchens before returning to his room. An hour later, balancing two dinner plates covered in silver cloches, Secondo carefully opened the door to his chambers.

He never expected what was waiting for him on the other side.

His room was full. Every square inch was covered in swaying warm bodies as up-tempo music pulsed from a pair of speakers by the door. Dozens of maskless ghouls danced and drank together out of red plastic cups. They smiled and laughed, singing along to the song blaring from the big black speakers. The smell of liquor and sweat mixed with something sweeter he couldn’t place.

And in the center of it all, was you.

You stood in the middle of his room, pressed tightly against Terzo. Secondo watched as his brother's hands roamed against the soft curve of your back and down your sides as he danced with you. The two of you moved lasciviously, chest to chest in tune with the pounding bass. Eyes locked on one another smiles beamed on both of your faces.

Secondo started to move forward but froze as Terzo dipped you low causing your hair, free from your usual veil, to cascade towards the ground like a waterfall. The crowd of ghouls around you whooped and hollered. Secondo heard Alpha let out a long wolf whistle from the other side of the room.

You laughed as Terzo set you back on your feet and whispered something briefly in your ear. Without missing a beat, you reached behind you, and grabbed a bottle of absinthe, taking a long swig before passing it to Terzo. A small river of the green spirit dribbled down the corner of your mouth, slicking your lips and landing on the white collar of your habit. Secondo’s jaw clenched as you laughed again, tossing your head back before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

But then it was your turn to freeze. Like a deer caught in headlights every muscle in your body tensed as your eyes met Secondo’s.

And he felt it again. The burn. The ache. The pain he’d daydreamed of. It all slammed into Secondo’s chest until he felt ready to implode like a dying star.

For what felt like an eternity neither of you moved. Like two statues forced to face one another by a curator's judicious hand, the party continued around you. Bodies swayed and drinks flowed. One song ended and another began. It wasn’t until Terzo stepped in front of you, blocking his brother’s view, that Secondo dropped the twin cloches onto his entry table with a loud bang and every set of eyes in the room snapped in his direction.

“Out!” Secondo roared over the loud music. “Everyone out now!”

Alpha appeared quickly, ripping the speakers' cord from the wall. The music stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry Papa,” the fire ghoul started, “You said that she shouldn’t want for-”

“Go,” Secondo interrupted, without taking his eyes off of you. “I will deal with you in the morning.”

“Yes, Papa,” Alpha answered, tucking his tail between his legs before scurrying out of the room. The other ghouls quickly followed, quietly piling into the hall until only you and Terzo remained. You stood awkwardly beside Terzo, absinthe bottle still in hand. Secondo slowly walked toward you.

“Mi scuso, fratello.” Terzo's hand dropped from your waist as he gave you a little smirk and continued speaking in his native tongue, “Non sapevo lei ti appartenesse.”

You didn’t understand what Terzo had said, but you knew it had made Secondo angry. His temples flared and he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing heavy in his throat. Secondo stopped inches from Terzo, leaning over him until his younger brother had to crane his neck up to meet his glare.

“Le hai dato la chiave della sua stanza, idiota. Sai che è la mia Imperatrix,” Secondo said. His voice was even but you knew there was a controlled calmness that belied a storm raging beneath his surface.

You worried for Terzo.

You hadn’t meant to get anyone else in trouble with your little stunt. You’d only hoped to prove to Secondo that you weren’t something he could control while having a little fun at his expense. But of course, he would turn to rage. Secondo seemed to be the only person in this god-forsaken Abbey who hated fun.

But to your surprise, Cardinal Terzo seemed unafraid of his older brother’s anger. His smile widened and he laughed as he spoke, “Non è quello che intendevo, Secondo... conosco il titolo della sorella.”

“Parla chiaramente, fratello.”

“I am only saying,” Terzo began, glancing at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “that I know her title. She may be your Imperatrix, but she dances like a diavolessa.” You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. “Non sapevo lei l'avessi reclamata per te stesso. Troverò altre bellissime sorelle con cui giocare. Vedo che lei è tua adesso. Non sei mai stato bravo a condividere, vero Secondo? Mi scuso.” With a final wink in your direction, Terzo swept out of the room, leaving you alone with Secondo.

“Coglione,” Secondo muttered under his breath before reaching for the bottle of absinthe in your hand and gently, setting it aside.

You hadn’t realized how grounding the bottle had been until you were left swaying on your feet without it. You could feel your pulse beat through each of your fingers as blood rushed everywhere but your head. Shit. How much of that stuff had you drunk?

“You have overstepped, sorella.” Secondo hissed. “My generosity has been taken for granted.”

“Generosity?!” you screamed, your voice cracking with frustration. “You locked me in here like a prisoner! You sent a literal beast from hell to make sure I couldn’t escape! And you want to call it generosity?!”

“You have used my position for your amusement today. No?”

“So what?!” you argued. “What’s the point of having all this,” you challenged, waving your hands around his beautiful room filled with food, flowers, and booze, “if you don't even enjoy it? Why have nice things? Why have whatever you want at your beck and call if you don’t even enjoy it?”

“Ostentatiousness is an offering to Him,” he replied stiffly, his tone brooking no argument.

“But aren’t you supposed to enjoy overindulging? Fucking hell, do you ever enjoy anything?!”

Secondo remained quiet, turning away from you and staring into the fireplace. You could have let things go then, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue and you were tired of holding back. You were never any good at it anyway, especially around him.

Fuck it.

“You just want everyone around you to be as pissed off and miserable as you are. You know I’ve never even seen Alpha smile until today? God, you don’t even fuck like you enjoy it!”

Secondo spun around immediately. His eyes blazed with fury. “Sit down,” he growled.

You sat immediately. You didn’t know why but you did. Even Secondo looked surprised before he regained his composure and stepped closer to you on the couch. His legs pushed your knees apart until he was standing in between your thighs. You slid back against the couch. The cool leather pressed against your neck, and you looked up at Secondo. You could smell him. Cologne and incense swirled around you. He leaned down, placing his hands against the couch on either side of your head, boxing you in.

“Do you think Sister Luciana enjoyed it? When I fucked her and you watched, crouched from the doorway like a piccolo topo. Tell me sorella do you think she enjoyed it?”

A lump formed in your throat. All you could do was spit out a vowel. “I…”

One of Secondo’s hands moved from the back of the couch to cup your jaw. His gloved thumb brushed across the supple plains of your cheek and you held your breath.

“You don’t think I could make you scream if I touched you like that?” he whispered softly. “You don’t think I could make you cum until you’ve seen the stars above?”

Secondo tilted your jaw up with his index finger and cocked his head to the side, parting his painted lips. Your eyes roamed over his face. Taking in every line, every fleck of paint, every small scar that dotted his chiseled face. Hot and humid, you breathed each other's air. He leaned closer again and you closed your eyes, bracing for the feeling of his lips against your own, anticipating the taste of him on your tongue.

And you let yourself want.

You wanted it. You wanted to taste him. To have him. To feel him. Maybe you’d gone mad. But anger and lust had never felt more like two sides of the same coin than in that moment.

But then everything faded away.

The hand on your cheek vanished. The smell of spice and wood disappeared. The warm slide of his legs against your inner thighs turned cold and you opened your eyes. Secondo had pulled away, taking a step back and standing upright. His eyes softened slightly before he turned his back on you and steadied himself with a long drawn-out exhale.

“I will see you in my office at 6:00 am tomorrow, sorella.”

You left Secondo’s chambers quickly after that, mind racing. What the hell just happened? Was that just another kind of power play from Papa? Or was it something else? Something different? When you’d been dancing with Terzo he’d looked at you differently. There’d been something there. Something hidden behind his paints and chiseled scowl. But what was it? And why did you care?

Lost in a haze of intoxication and your muddled thoughts you stumbled your way through the dimly lit corridors of the Abbey, and back to your chambers. Maybe if you’d left Secondo's room earlier, or had a few less swigs of Terzo’s absinthe, you would have noticed the pair of eyes that followed you from Papa’s chambers to your door. But the night was late and the shadows were long. You would have to deal with your stalker in the daytime.

Next chapter: (Part 6) Go back: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Read on AO3)

#papa emeritus secondo #secondo emeritus #secondo #ghost #ghost band #ghost the band #papa secondo #daddy secondo #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii x female reader #eyes on fire #spooky writes

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lilakennedy · 8 months ago

Text

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝 III

Both times you encountered Galloper Thompson in the past, he found you in less than ideal situations. This time, you're determined to seek him out...Third time's the charm, after all.

so, uh.....hi. i know it's been, what? two years? but i always said this story is NOT over yet, and i am a woman of my word. so here it is!! part three and also the longest part so far!! thank you all who have been encouraging me to continue and have waited so, so patiently!! i could go on and on about why this took so long, but that's a long story. thank you all for reading, your support and feedback means the world!! ♥ happy spooky season! tagging: @foggy-milk @wildwoods-sworn @rora-dolphinheart @dromaeo-sauridae @justagirlexistinginthisworld @everythingelsewastaken135 (^ i took this list of people that have expressed wanting to be tagged in the past, please forgive me if that has changed!) gender neutral MC! once again, nothing romantic (for now) but if anyone’s crushing on the man, i hope you have fun!! :> words: 11.8k cw: death mention, injury mention, a healing injury (MCs broken arm!) some eerie visuals - but nothing major or descriptive! english is not my first language, so some of the horse-related terminology might be off! i apologize!! ➝ pt. I ➝ pt. II

“Woah, No no no - !”

Your plea falls on deaf ears as the universe merely humours you for a second, before allowing the bag of flour to tumble and fall down the side of the counter.

The fall itself causes flour to fly out of the little paper bag and leave a trail on the cupboards doors. Until finally, it lands with a dull thud, the flour exploding into a cloud of white on impact with the tiles.

White coats your legs, feet, the poor cupboard doors and the floor where you stand, leaving you frozen for a second while you stare down at the mess you accidentally created. A huff escapes you, but before you can even reach over to salvage the last bits of flour that still remain inside the bag, the kitchen door opens.

“Oh dear, what happened?”

Mrs. Holdsworth’s voice holds a playful tone to her care, seemingly getting a small laugh out of your harmless predicament. You, on the other hand, stand embarrassed and covered in flour - You had come here to offer a helping hand, not cause a mess and waste an entire bag of ingredients.

It is a pitiful image to walk in on, seeing you stand half covered in flour, an expression of a kicked dog and the stiffest posture you could force your body into.

With a sigh, you relax your muscles and bend down to pick up the paper bag with a sigh: “I didn’t notice how close it was to my…My arm...”

Mrs. Holdsworth simply gives a small chuckle from the centre of her chest, clearly not bothered by the little mishap as she steps closer to help you. With her hands, she starts to gather the spilled flour from the countertop and moves to discard it into the same trashcan you had tossed the now empty bag into.

“Will you be a doll and fetch the broom? I’ll take care of the dough in the meantime.”

Familiar enough with the house to not need any further directions, you simply nod and make your way over to the skinny broom closet just outside the kitchen - You move carefully, not wanting to spread more flour across the entire house.

It’s midday, allowing the sun to shine in through the windows of the house, nearly deceptively hiding the true chill that awaits anyone who steps outside. The winds recently have been harsh, some trees already unable to withstand the stormy nights, but luckily the damage has been minimal.

Rainstorms, foggy mornings and howling winds invite anyone to stay inside, to bundle up and get cozy in a safe, warm environment. Mrs. Holdsworth’s home is always special, a comforting yet magical space to forget the passing of time. Furniture and decor invite relaxation, little personal trinkets open conversation and questions about different things in life.

Your eyes wander over the surrounding space with a content expression, before you carefully close the closet door and make your way back to the kitchen.

The kitchen is lively, despite only you and Mrs. Holdsworth working here today. The table has baskets and bags of ingredients that are already half used up, bowls of prepared fruit and chopped ingredients, a scale stands out of its usual hidden spot on the shelves and the oven is preheating and giving a warm glow.

Mrs. Holdsworth had invited you to help her prepare a type of sweet autumn bread, and you eagerly agreed.

Your hands wrap around the broomstick without much hassle, given that the injury inside your left hand has healed entirely at this point - The incident having happened a week prior. It feels odd to think about the time that has passed since. It both feels like it happened last night and last month.

Yet, a glance at the calendar on Mrs. Holdsworth wall confirms the passage of time. The date reads a week and two days after your unfortunate, stormy trip to Golden Hills.

The cut your palm had sustained was nothing major, but it took a while longer to heal than you had anticipated. An injury on the inside of your palm, which you use daily, really is a doozy to heal without constantly irritating it.

Your right arm is still wrapped in its cast, the white material slightly grey and showing clear signs of wear. The fracture will take a while longer to heal, leaving you with this cast for at least 3 more weeks. By this point, you are used to the lack of mobility and the extra care you have to take.

Plus, having an unwieldy cast allows for easy excuses when you do mess up while zoning out, like today. The biggest downside has just been the unrelenting occasional itch beneath the plaster.

“You seem distant recently dear, what’s been occupying your mind to take you so far away all day?”

You look up at Mrs. Holdsworth, watching her dry her hands on a checkered towel by the sink. Raising your brows at her words, you turn your attention back to the floor and your broom.

“Nothing, really.” You respond nonchalantly, the movements of the broom turning more sluggish and weak as you think of what to say. “I guess I’ve just been zoning a lot.”

You crack a smile and shrug at the older woman, not wanting her to think that anything was seriously wrong. Your smiling expression is met with an unimpressed look that holds more motherly energy than you would have liked. She’s reading you.

Her brows raise and a telling smile stretches across her face, wrinkles accenting the sides of her smile.

“You should know by now that lying to me does not work.” Her voice holds a lighthearted scolding to it, making you cock your head to the side and rest your healthy arm against the broom, waiting for her to continue.

She turns back toward the counter and begins closing up some jars of ingredients. Her words are underlined by occasional glances over her shoulder toward where you stand.

“First I hear from Conrad that you nearly lost a finger while helping him due to daydreaming last week, then you mix up dates that people agreed upon for training with you and you’re constantly running late, you completely missed some things I said earlier and now you take it out on my poor, poor flour.”

The smile in her voice is audible, and you can see the corners of her eyes crease with her grin whenever she glances back at you.

“Half of those are because of my ar -”

“Hush, do not blame it all on your broken wrist!” Mrs. Holdsworth cuts you off, ”I have seen your face and your eyes, you’re daydreaming yourself away to something else!”

She turns to face you fully, her expression a fond annoyance toward your attempts to lie. Her arm reaches over to take the broom from you, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.

But as you look down, you notice the flour is entirely gone; Both on the floor and on your clothes.

It takes a second for the thought to settle in: ‘Magic, right.’

Magic on Jorvik is more common than you ever would have assumed, and you have gotten used to it over the time you have spent here - But recently Magic seems to be more at the forefront of your mind than ever before, and not for reasons any of the people around you would like.

The brooch and strip of fabric still are in your possession. In the week that has passed since you got those peculiar items, you haven’t told a soul. Partly because you want to keep it a secret for your own safety, and partly because you don’t even know what to do going forward.

Your initial plan was to return it back to the man that had given it to you, seeing as it was mostly borrowed, rather than gifted. But with the weather changing from unpleasant to downright dangerous, you haven’t had a chance to venture out on another trip all the way into the hills.

And with this week that passed, you had time to think - And it drove you to overthink, now leaving you with a unique type of choice paralysis.

What if the items are cursed or will bring harm to you or your loved ones? Maybe you should go stand by the shores of Moorland and toss the brooch as far as your arm allows, watching it go beneath the waves and never turn back.

But - What if you were to keep it? A souvenir of something that will probably never repeat in your lifetime, something to memorise these odd events. Something other than an X-Ray of a broken arm, that is. This train of thought always leads you to huff at your extremely sentimental take on it all, but part of you is stubborn and wants to keep this adventure close.

And the plan of returning it to him? You aren’t even quite sure how to start this plan. Both times you met with the headless horseman, it was because he found you. It’s likely that he can’t be found unless he chooses to be.

So with that issue, you aren’t quite sure where to begin - The idea of camping out in the hills entered your mind a few times, but Aideen knows you would get hurt again.

“Ow!!” A yelp escapes you while your hand flies up to the source of the pain by your ear. Mrs. Holdsworth had pinched you, seeing you spiral back into your own mind despite the ongoing conversation.

You look over to her, seeing her expression holding no real harsh emotion, but instead something akin to a teasing smile of disbelief.

Rubbing your poor ear, you pout for a moment when she begins to talk.

“I know that look, that’s the look of a young soul falling into fascination with something magical. I have seen that look on many people on this island, I have seen it on myself when I was still young and beginning to unravel the island’s secrets!”

She shakes her head slightly, the smile never leaving her features as you shift your weight slightly. Her eyes hold a sincerity that was not there during her earlier teasing jokes. It makes you relax as you listen to her words, cherishing the time she spends with you.

“You’re falling in love with something magical, and for your sake, I hope it is safe.”

A moment of comfortable, important silence rests between the two of you. With a smile on your face, you give a little nod, reassuring her that you are indeed safe. Mrs. Holdsworth returns the nod with the crows feet by her eyes deepening as her smile stretches just a bit wider.

Deep down, you wonder if what you are doing truly is keeping you safe or spelling out something terrible for your future. But for now, you’ll nod.

Abruptly, she steps back and throws her hands up, speaking while turning back toward the oven.

“Or maybe you’re just a lovesick fool that’s busy daydreaming and little old me is looking too deep into things!”

Nearly offended and embarrassed at her backtracking, you gasp out a ‘Hey!’ which causes the old witch to give a hearty laugh.

It is roughly 2 hours later when you leave the small, cozy home with some freshly baked apple bread in your bag and a piece of it between your teeth. You make your way down the path in front of Mrs. Holdsworth's house, munching away on the still warm bread.

The biting cold is a harsh contrast to the warm place you had been staying at for the earlier hours of the day, the soft smell of home cooked foods has been replaced by the scent of yesterday's rain and the hay of the stables.

Winds whisper and howl through every fence and past the corners of each building, a particularly strong gust pushing you forward as if nature itself is urging you to hurry back into a warmer place.

You merely give a hum in return, acknowledging the wind's attempts but not moving to rush much faster, still chewing bites of warm bread while you let your eyes wander around.

Moorland is empty, for the most part. The paths abandoned while people exercise caution against the unpredictable weather, not wanting to put themselves or their horses in danger.

Right now the weather is unruly, but bearable - Still, the winds have a habit of turning fast, catching many people off guard in these past weeks. Every small gap in your clothes invites a chill down your spine once the cold slithers its way against your skin, led by the howls of wind.

An audible shiver leaves your lips as you try to huddle further into your clothing, the final bite of the baked goods disappearing between your teeth, allowing you to bury your hands into the pockets of your coat. The cast around your right arm makes the entire ordeal a bit stiff, but not impossible.

The warm pockets of your coat are welcomed around your hands, shielding them from the cool winds and inviting you to snuggle into the fabric even further, like a turtle retreating into its shell.

It does not take long for another, different type of shiver to run through you as your hand brushes cold metal, resting inside your left pocket. The sensation causes your steps to falter for a second, your walking speed slowing down to something more uneven while you make your way down the path that will lead you to the side of the stables.

Your hand tightens around the golden brooch resting in the deep pocket of your coat, allowing your thumb to gently brush along the symbols engraved in it. A symbol you have memorised at this point, a result of staring at the little item and trying to make sense of your current situation.

The brooch and the little tied piece of green fabric have been on your person since the day you had received them. Something about the idea of leaving them laying around where someone could find or take them struck a cord inside you - So instead you decided to always keep it with you.

It’s a plan you cannot think about for too long, because once the worry of it being cursed creeps back into your mind, the items weigh ten times heavier against your side. Yet, you like to tell yourself that you’re keeping it so you can dispose of it when the time is right, that you are only keeping it close to you so you can throw it aside somewhere no one will find it again.

But the truth is, you just don’t want someone else to steal it. It has become something you wish to keep safe, as if you were asked to watch over it and now you cannot just haphazardly toss it to someone else.

Plus, you still have to take caution with the people around you - For their safety, and yours. Aideen knows what would happen if you were to spill your new story to any random person. Most would probably see it as a silly ghost story, see it as made up to garner attention.

You twirl the piece of fabric around your fingers like a ribbon. It gets caught on your knuckles occasionally, the brooch in your palm very much limiting the movement of your fingers.

The path beneath your boots changes to cobblestone when you reach the Moorland stables, seeing a few people rushing back and forth to finish their tasks before the weather turns too aggressive.

A few friendly nods to the people around you, hurried steps and the sounds of a few boxes getting knocked over by the wind are all that follows while you make your way to your stable doors. Familiar scents and sounds greet you as you step inside, readying for a few hours of work.

The hay in the wheelbarrow muffles your sound of frustration as you let yourself plop chest-first into the clean pile of it that you’ve been wheeling around. Immediately, strands of golden hay stick to your clothing and hair, but you pay it no mind, given that you are already covered in hay, dust and horse hairs from the tasks you had been crossing off of today’s list.

Despite your sore muscles and the splinter you had somehow managed to get on one of the storage doors, neither are the reasons for you deflating like a balloon forgotten behind a child’s bedroom door. No, no. Your mind has been reeling with trying to figure out how to handle dealing with a maybe-cursed object. The constant mental back and forth has been taking a genuine toll on you, as the possible stakes of your current situation dawning on you more with each passing hour. It’s like something is hellbent on wearing you thin, stretching you until something inside your spine will snap with the most unpleasant and nauseating sound.

The idea of keeping that damned brooch makes a little voice inside your screech with absolute, stubborn terror. What if it brings terrible things to your doorstep? What if you weren’t even meant to keep it for this long? Another thing that worries you is still the idea of someone else finding it.

Carefully, you use your arms to push yourself upward slightly, your hips and waist bearing most of your weight against the hay while your chest lifts. It takes a second of rummaging, but you manage to pull the brooch out of your pocket. With an expression of frustration and confusion across your face, you look at it.

You cock your head to the side while you let yourself drop back onto the hay, your arm extended forward to keep the brooch in your line of sight.

For what feels like the millionth time, you run your thumb along the metal. Your eyes intently focus on it, glaring nearly, as if to try and intimidate an answer out of the poor brooch itself. The green fabric brushes along your skin a few times as you do so.

While you remain deeply focused on the small antique accessory, your horse is slowly but surely getting more and more interested in the tasty hay you are laying on. Reaching its neck down and stretching to its best effort, your Equine companion easily begins to munch on the very hay you are laying on, seemingly uninterested in your 50th dramatic brainstorming session.

Could anyone blame you? What took place by the gate to Golden Hills has been on an uninterrupted loop in your mind. You remember it all so, so clearly. It is as if your own mind will not allow you to forget it.

The wooden beams and boards of the stables around you creak with the howling winds outside. A soundscape you had gotten used to years ago, yet it still invites to shiver and glance around oneself. Alongside this eerie groan and howl, you hear your horse chewing on the hay you had been planning to place into its stall for the past 10 minutes.

You fumble with the brooch for a few more seconds, flipping it in your hand the same way it has been flipping your daily routine on its head. Swiftly, you pocket it once more. The added weight in your pocket no longer feels alien to you.

During these harsh conditions and downright dangerous storms, travelling all the way up to Golden Hills alone would be impossible. If you were to go, you’ll surely have to at least pass the next three or four days.

The noise that leaves your lips is one of reluctant acceptance.

With every sunset and sunrise, you nearly feel yourself beginning to count the hours. It is odd, really. This mix of excitement and dread that flows through your veins. It becomes especially prominent when you lay down to rest, be it to sleep or just to relax for a while. Your head begins to spin with the amount of thoughts whipping back and forth inside your skull, your stomach begins to tie into knots and despite these anxiety induced symptoms, there remains the giddiness of a child prior to christmas eve.

Your thoughts range from mildly worried, over hesitant excitement all the way down to disturbing. Most recurring being the idea of someone finding your dead body between some bushes at the side of the valley, and because no one knows of your little adventures, it would take them weeks to find you. You try not to let this thought take up too much of your mental capacity. How do you do this? Well, with a somewhat comforting, yet equally eerie fact you can’t dodge; If Thompson had wanted you dead, he probably would have done so on your first meeting.

Now here is to hoping you aren’t about to overstay your welcome with the headless phantom.

It is nearly comical, how the first thing you do every morning is pull the blinds and curtains aside, craning your neck at weird angles to see as much of the sky as you possibly could. Every morning so far, you were greeted with harsh winds and rain hitting your window in a relentless rhythm. But not today.

Today your eyes scan across a slightly overcast sky, the trees of Moorland swaying in the wind much more gently than they have in the recent week. The clouds are grey, yet not as heavy. A few wisps of white clouds dance in between, too - Some spots even allow you to catch a glimpse of the sunrise.

Something gleams in your eyes for a second and your heart leaps into your throat. Today’s the day, you think to yourself. Your grasp on your curtain tightens for a second as you give a grin at the sky, trying your best to fight the nervousness crawling under your skin.

Throughout the day, you do everything you can to prepare for your planned trip, hoping to be more prepared this time. Your plan consists of just setting up a small tent in the mountains and …Well,waiting.

Deep down you’re fully aware that Thompson would not just let you walk around and find him like just any other person. You had come to that conclusion a good while ago already.

An alternative plan had been to just walk around and try to call out for him, waving the brooch around like you’re trying to lure a dog back with a treat. The mental image gave you a small chuckle at the time, but you realise it might not be the smartest idea.

If you set up camp like planned, you could sit for hours and hope he might want that damned brooch back, leading him to decide to show up on his own accord. In your eyes, it feels like the safest and most respectful route. And you hope to Aideen that you are right.

Your travel to Golden Hills is pleasant, your improvised camping set safely stored away in one of the bigger saddlebags you had laying around. The one person tent folds and rolls up small enough to fit, along with some snacks you had made, water and a thermos full of a nice, hot drink. You made sure to shove the thermos into the bag extra harshly, some personal grudge still lingering against the object. Tossed along with the small set is a pack of bandaids. A rolled up blanket is, somewhat haphazardly, fastened to the bag as well. The brooch remains in the pocket of your coat that you’ve thrown over multiple layers of clothes to keep warm.

During your travels, your heart begins to race more and more as you get closer to the gate that will lead you into Goldenhills. The ride itself remains mostly comfortable, even if the occasional harsh wind has you squinting while trying to escape the flurry of leaves tossed at your face.

And at some points, you swear, your horse is giving you very judgemental glances. As if it weren't its very own fault that you even encountered the man in the first place! You huff to yourself, feeling accomplished with your imagined little argument against your horse.

It takes a good while to reach Golden Hills, but then begins the search for a nice spot to set up camp. It cannot be anywhere that would pose too much of a risk should the weather turn too harsh, but also nowhere you’d be spotted by every single passerby.

Your horse’s hooves carefully carry you along the still slightly muddy terrain, across all the winding paths through valleys and hills. The landscapes still leave you in awe as the crisp autumn afternoon air fills your lungs. You can’t help but enjoy the colourful surroundings, the endless patterns of gold, red and dark green leaves that make you feel as if you had accidentally stepped into a painting.

It feels nearly serene, were it not for the rapid heartbeat in your chest as you find yourself wondering whether he is already aware of your presence.

An idea pops into your mind. The idea of just placing the brooch on a rock at the side of the pathways and leaving it be, to avoid another encounter. Despite your anxiety, this idea is quickly shoved aside, simply because your feeling of responsibility over the small item is still there. The idea of leaving it out here, where any man or animal could mar and break it…It doesn’t sit right with you. So you press onward, keeping your eyes out.

Satisfaction puts a smile on your face when you finally come across a spot that seems fitting for your little plans. Higher up in the mountainside of goldenhills, surrounded by a few old stone structures and kept mostly dry by the old, large trees stretching upwards as if to poke the clouds that loom.

Over the course of the next hour, you are hard at work. With some struggle and help from nearby rocks to use as stepladders, you fasten a high line for your horse between two sturdy trees. After making sure the rope was a comfortable length for your companion, you make sure to give them a few pats and a very much needed kiss on their big, old nose.

Next, you begin to set up your tent with just a …Tiny bit of struggle.

Its small size luckily makes it easier once you get a good idea of what goes where. You give a relieved sigh once you finally place the wool blanket in the bottom of the tent. You crawl over it on your knees to place it properly, and then promptly turn around to drop on your back. Your hands are folded on your stomach as you take a breather. Doing all of this with essentially one arm was tougher than it looked.

The front of the tent is wide open, the entire structure currently functioning as more of a roof than a closed tent. With your legs comfortably stretched outward as you sit up, you rest with your thermos in hand. The hot drink warms your hands as you hold it close to your face. The steam of it gently sways across your face while your eyes look out over the scenery of Goldenhills and Jorvik beyond it. In the distance, you hear animals scuttering and leaves rustling with the wind. Soon enough, the audible breeze that had combed through the trees further away has reached you now, leaving you with a chill down your arms.

With a sip from the small metal cup in your hands, your entire body and soul begin to warm up more and more. You gently smile as you glance over to your horse, who has been utterly enthralled in eating all the grass in sight. Their tail gently sways, the relaxed posture also making you feel a bit more at ease. Maybe this entire trip would be more calm than you had expected.

Time passes, as evident by the slowly sinking sun and the clock on your phone racing through the afternoon hours. You don’t plan to camp the entire night or sleep out here. You told yourself that the latest you’ll stay is midnight, then you’d make your way back home.

With a quiet noise of struggle leaving your throat, you lean to the side, trying to reach your bag and open it with one hand. Once you manage to get a good hold of it and you’re sure it won't topple over and spill all the contents onto the ground, you reach into it. Your hand rummages for a short moment while your eyebrows furrow. Despite your short struggle you manage to pull out the small, battery powered LED lantern you packed.

The switch at the bottom is flipped and the little light comes to life, the warm white LED illuminating your improvies campsite in lieu of the sun that continues to sink lower.

You look over to where your horse stands by your right. They seem relaxed, idly looking around, ears curious and nose getting stuck into every leaf and shrubbery to inspect it. The sight makes you smile.

As if to directly counter the gentle scene in front of you, you hear aggressive rustling. You snap your head into the direction of the sound, over to the old trees the sound seems to be coming from. Your shoulders are tense and in the corner of your eyes you can see the way your horse seems to be alert. But it all mellows back out once you realise it’s merely two birds having a short tussle up in the crowns of the trees, the flapping of wings and a few short annoyed screeches making the situation more clear. After a second, your horse also seems to be way less interested in the sounds. With a nervous, relieved little smile, you bring your hand to rest on your chest and try to get your heart rate to go back down to something more reasonable. You feel the way it’s hammering inside your ribcage, but it soon relaxes. Still, the singular harmless scare is enough to keep your anxiety at a heightened state. Your eyes flicker around your surroundings, seeing shapes and movement in the shadows that reveal themselves as leaves and their shadows once you actually look closer. Your brain is busy handing you various terrible, worst case scenarios and suddenly you feel very exposed where you sit. You scooch backward into your tent a bit.

Mrs. Holdsworth’s words come to your mind, how she had read you like a book not too long ago. How you had given her your word that you’re safe with whatever you are messing around with…

With a calming breath, you let your hand wrap around the silver thermos again, opting to take a few more sips of your warm drink to try and keep your anxiety down, trying to ignore the tension in your back. You glance over to your companion again and a dark thought comes to your mind. What if they get hurt because of your little risky adventures? An undeniable pang of worry and guilt shoots through your chest at the thoughts, your expression pulling into a frown. You carefully adjust your hold on the small metal cup and bring it to your lips.

You recall all the stories you have heard of encounters with the horseman, and in each of them one thing remains clear - None of the horses were ever hurt. The realisation brings a downright bizarre mixture of relief and horror. If things do indeed go south, at least your best friend would be fine. For a brief moment you start to wonder if others would take good care of them, but you decide to kill that train of thought quicker than your brain had decided to kill you off in that made-up scenario.

You’ll be fine. You’re sure of it. Your biggest enemy as of right now were two magpies in the trees above.

Bit by bit, the drink in your thermos dwindles down to a few drops, the wind becomes more chilly and the ground under you is becoming gradually more uncomfortable to sit on. You adjust your seated posture a bit, hoping to get more comfortable while you screw the thermos shut for the last time that night.

Without being able to hold a warm cup or sip on a steaming drink, the coldness of the evening makes itself known to your skin and bones. You haven’t checked the time in a while but it sure does feel like you have been here all night.

The brightness of your phone screen is turned all the way down, causing it to barely add light to the scenery when you do check the time - 9:55PM. A huff leaves you at that. You had been out here for quite a while. But you aren’t going to back down now! Or at least, you aren’t planning to…

It feels like another 5 hours have passed, but it has been roughly 30 minutes. Your eyes keep wandering around the dark and undisturbed scenery below the hills. You can see the light of a few ferries from up here and even the lighthouse sometimes peeks through the trees, so subtle you could miss it.

Then, you hear it - Hooves. Their sound is muffled by the leaves and soil, but their rhythm is unmistakable. You swear, every hair on your body is standing on end as soon as the sound registers, breaking into the soundscape of the night that you had grown so used to in the past hours.

You lean forward instinctively, your heart-rate picking up once more. Could it be? Did you downright silly plan work? Did the waiting pay off?

Quickly, your eyes flicker across your surroundings, trying to spot the familiar glow, the familiar colours, the familiar and eerie sight. Trying to spot anything to confirm your expectations.

All you can do is hope the random rider did not see the utter disappointment that crosses your expression once they round the corner.

Seated on a dapple grey horse, is a rider from the fishing village. You remember seeing them occasionally whenever you would travel all the way up to Goldenleaf. Their own expression is one of gentle surprise, clearly not having expected anyone up here. Nevertheless a small camp.

“Oh, hi there!” They speak up, a smile audible in their voice while their horse comes to a stop not too far from your little spot. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Relaxed and with a small smile of your own, you wave them off, letting them know that its genuinely no hassle or issue. Even while you are talking with the stranger, a small voice in the back of your mind is stomping its feet in disappointment.

“Don’t worry, it’s quite alright! This isn’t the most common spot for people to sit, anyways.” You reply to their apology with a soft shrug, pointing out the bizarre choice of yours with some humour. The stranger gives an amused snort at that.

The person seems to be a bit younger than you, but not by much. A year or two, maybe. Their face is partially hidden by a big scarf, their attire clearly showing they had been out in the cold for a while. Your own brows furrow slightly when you see their slightly embarrassed expression turn into something more akin to…Concern.

“I heard that they sent out another storm warning for tonight. You, uh, might want to head down to the stables to avoid getting surprised by it, just in case.”

Their tone is genuine, their worry clear as they glance around and upward to the still cloudy skies, as if to try and predict the storm’s arrival.

Hearing the news makes your shoulders slump. It makes sense, you think to yourself, you’ve been sitting up here all evening with barely working mobile data to connect you to the internet. A storm warning would easily have been missed by you. You internally wince at that oversight. You could have really put yourself and your horse in danger.

You give the stranger a hum of acknowledgement.

“Ah, thank you for telling me.” You begin to get up onto your feet, brushing some dried grass off of your pants as you do so. “I probably should head down, then.”

The conversation between you and the stranger continues for a minute. They offer to help you pack up your things, but you assure them you got it. The two of you discuss the recent, insane weather and the frequent thunderstorms. They share a few stories from Goldenleaf and troubles the stable had faced, and you discuss some events from Moorland in a matching tone of exhaustion at the constant weather precautions.

You can’t help but feel grateful at how kind this rider is, offering to wait until you’re done so neither of you had to ride back down alone. Yet a part of you is worried at how willing they are to help you out, making you hope they aren’t too open and kind to just any stranger out here. Despite this, the conversation remains light and you even laugh at a few things while you pack the last few things into your bag.

Unbeknownst to you, the fiery eyes of an all too familiar mare had been keeping you in direct line of sight, sharp and focused as her and her rider want to ensure your safe departure, even from a distance. The stranger at your side seems to pose no threat whatsoever, yet the mare does not move, does not turn away until you and your horse have made your way down the path toward the village…

With all your things packed back into your bag and your horse being given a few treats for having been so patient with your recent escapades, you begin your ride down the hills.

Your newest companion, the stranger from Goldenleaf, is ahead of you and setting a relaxed pace down the winding paths. Around you the trees loom tall and imposing as if to remind you that they have been here long before you and will continue to remain here long after you.

Each dried leaf that breaks under your horse's hoof is audible, the forest silent besides the nocturnal animals that continue to move around for food and safety. All the colours you had seen earlier, the scenery akin to brushstrokes in an expensive painting, now are swallowed by the dark of night, everything falling into a dim, blue hue.

You give a soft sigh, upset with how quickly your plans for the evening were forced to change. With a torn expression, you glance back the way you came from and up at the skies. No matter how determined you are to see this through, it would be idiotic to put yourself and your horse in danger for it.

The thought itself feels ironic, labelling the storm as dangerous but not the deadly omen you are so keen on meeting again. Maybe this is your saving grace, maybe Aideen has extended you her mercy and sent this kind stranger to get you out of harm's way. Maybe you should take this as your sign to stop chasing after something that could spell your demise.

A rational corner of your brain seems to flicker back and forth between things. It reminds you how he has not harmed you in the past, but that does not mean you are safe in future encounters. You still do not know him. You do not have any idea of what to expect from him and how you might be pushing your luck with the headless horseman.

Your expression is a slight grimace of frustration and inner turmoil, a displeased scowl on your face as you can’t help the huff that escapes you. You can’t tell if your frustration comes from the fact that you now had to remain intertwined with it all for longer, with the brooch still in your possession - Or if it stems from not being able to have your next encounter with Thompson.

Carefully, you adjust your balance when your horse has to step over a particularly large branch. It must have been torn down in the recent storms, you note to yourself. You keep your eyes on the side of the branch, trying to make sure your horse doesn’t get caught on anything.

And that’s when you see it. So subtle in the corner of your eye, you might have missed it. There, in the distance, is a flicker in the thicket.

You turn your head to look at it better, to see it more clearly. And sure enough, it’s there and it’s moving. The dense trees, bushes and the overall uneven terrain of Golden Hills make it hard to gauge the distance, but it seems to be quite far back.

With your breath hitching, you nearly don’t want to take your eyes off of it, scared you won’t be able to spot it again if you were to lose it now. It’s not long before your heart shoots up into your throat, your thoughts going into too many directions at once.

Your horse is still continuing their leisurely pace down the hill, the ride in front of you also visibly relaxed on the short journey. You’re going to have to make a decision, and you have to make it fast - With every step you’re not only losing more of the visibility, but also time.

What if it’s just a lantern and you’re doing this for nothing? The question is quickly tossed aside, simply because lanterns do not move like that. They do not illuminate like that. You swear that suddenly, the brooch weighs a ton as it rests in your pocket, the weight of it so much more prominent as you forget to breathe. Now or never. But is it smart to rush back into something you seem to have narrowly avoided..?

“H-hey,” You call out to the rider ahead of you, mentally cursing the small quiver in your tone as you try to hide your racing thoughts once they turn their torso to face you. “I forgot something up there, you go on ahead. I’ll be down in a bit!”

Gently letting your horse come to a stop, you watch as the other person does the same. Their expression shows slight surprise, slight concern, before they smile.

“Okay, well... Just make sure you make it back down in time!”

“Of course, thank you, again.”

You wave at them with an expression of gratitude for their help, and they return it before continuing along with their horse. You watch them for a second, watching the way they idly continue downhill, to the warm, safe stables with multiple other people and a lack of danger. For a second, you hesitate. You should just follow them. You should leave, get some food in your system, rest and leave this behind you.

Looking back uphill to your right, you nearly cannot see the warm flickers anymore, making you picture just how far the intimidating mare must have stepped away already. You grit your teeth.

The dirt under your horses galloping hooves is kicked up wildly, the leaves crunching and rustling as you and your companion continue at a nearly urgent pace. The branch your horse had so carefully stepped over is now leapt across with little hassle. You can feel the way the cold air becomes biting wind against your face as your horse rushes back up the hill. Between trees and rocks, traversing hills and dips in the ground with elegance and strength. You can feel the wind in your hair as you make your way up to where you had initially seen the flickering flames.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, threatening to break your ribs with the force it seems to have, while your pulse is rushing in your ears. Somehow you simultaneously hope to find him and find nothing at the same time. But, if your sudden turn around is anything to go by, one part seems to outweigh the other, even if you’re not willing to admit it to yourself just yet.

Coming to a stop quite a distance behind your earlier campsite, you look around, trying to spot which direction they must have gone. Instinctively you look for any remains on the ground, any signs of those fiery hooves having made their way through here, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Your mind goes back to the last encounters with her, and you do recall the way her flaming form seems to not cause harm to her surroundings…

With your lips pursed, you look back up, your eyes slightly narrow and your breath still to completely focus on any giveaway. Any light. Any sign. Your fingers twitch around the reigns you’re holding, anticipation in your veins keeping you tense like a bowstring.

A confused gasp leaves you once you spot another flicker of light, but…It’s wrong. You can’t pinpoint it exactly, the short flicker and flash of it having been way too short to even properly look at it but, it seems…Wrong.

It seems too cold in its hue, too chaotic in its brightness and, horrifyingly, too close to you.

The light that you assume to be Thompson and his mare was quite the distance away when you last saw it move through the gaps between trees and shrubbery, far enough away that it nearly feels fruitless to continue after them. But this flicker…It seems to have been just a few metres away from you and your horse. You can even feel the way your companion seems to grow somewhat anxious, which is not usually their behaviour around the headless phantom. You watch their tail swishing and ears moving around. It can’t have been him, you conclude.

You keep your eyes focused on the area you had caught the flicker in, waiting with baited breath to spot it again. With a gentle hand you make sure to give your horse some soothing pats along its neck, quietly speaking to calm them down.

Something about the situation puts a rock into your ribcage, a heavy weight dragging down like lead, resting at the base of your chest and nearly crushing your diaphragm with a cold, cold instinct of fear. It’s deadly silent for a moment, only the wind reminding you of your surroundings as it rustles the leaves.

Before you can think further about any of the things you feel under your skin, your eyes widen and immediately snap over to the light once more. This time you catch it more clearly, the way it seems to rush from behind the trees to a different spot. At first it reminds you of someone in a reflective coat, something you’d see worn near the streets of town to avoid accidents. But it doesn’t quite line up, especially given that it just…Disappears.

Your face is scrunched up in confusion. Is it a reflection from somewhere else that looks bizarre up here? Is it some swarm of insects buzzing about that gleam and glitter? No, no it’s too bright for that, you’re sure. It can’t be a person, it doesn’t seem to be an animal. Is your mind playing tricks on you? Are your eyes seeing flickers where there are none?

The unease is still sticking to you like wax when you urge your horse to continue forward once more, moving in a trot and trying to put distance between yourself and that specific spot. A shuddering sigh leaves your lips while your brain continues to race, trying to figure out what you had just seen. You opt to push it into the back of your mind for now, not wanting to freak yourself out over what could very well have been nothing of note.

With newfound determination, you focus your gaze back upward to the faraway rows of trees, all but straining your eyes to find the familiar, less unnerving glow again. When you do notice it again, your shoulders relax a bit, glad that you did not lose them during that odd startle. Once again you cannot help but wonder if all these interruptions are trying to tell you something, trying to keep you away, keep you safe.

You’re about to urge your horse to pick up its pace again and rush after the deadly duo, when you suddenly hear a voice call out from behind you. You twist your upper body somewhat uncomfortably while simultaneously stopping your horse in its tracks. Wide eyes and furrowed brows put your face into an expression of confusion and alertness. The voice was clearly audible, but the words seem to have muddled together, your brain unable to pull it apart into a coherent sentence. You stare behind yourself for a moment longer, ears and eyes focused to try and hear it again, to see something.

After another uneventful moment, you chalk it up to pareidolia of the howling winds and move onward.

Back in your earlier gallop, you rush through the autumnal forest, the cover of the night nearly threatening to swallow you and your horse whole, but you remain hellbent to reach your destination. You cannot help but wonder if Thompson and his mare are already long aware of you giving chase after them. You can only hope and pray to Aideen that they do not see your actions as aggressive or malicious.

A satisfied gleam enters your eyes, nearly making them sparkle in the dark of night. You’re getting closer, you can see it. They must be moving at a more relaxed pace. Oddly enough, the mental image of the headless horseman and his companion on a relaxed, calm walk through the woods evokes a feeling in your chest you cannot quite pinpoint.

Thinking back to when you had last seen them, the way they interacted with each other, that sacred bond they so clearly share and the way it felt wrong to be close enough to them to nearly feel it. The thought of them, together and undisturbed in the stillness before a storm, Thompsons oddly gentle demeanour and his mares confidence - It nearly makes you want to smile.

Any thoughts in your mind halt with a screech and the next second brings utter chaos. First you barely spot what is happening, second your horse sears upward, forcing you to lean into the movement to keep your balance.

In front of you appears a cold, white shape, before it quickly seems to rush behind a nearby tree that’s surrounded by shrubbery. Your eyes are wide and a startled, short gasp leaves your lips at the sight.

You huff when the front hooves of your horse hit the ground again, the thud dull and loud. Immediately, you begin to soothe them, leaning forward into their neck somewhat to ease them out of their panic as you embrace and pet them carefully.

“It’s okay…” You speak, voice hushed as your eyes continue to move around frantically. Your hands are beginning to tremble, your fingers unsteady against your horse's fur. You can nearly feel the way all the colour has drained out of your face.

The only thing on your mind is the way that damned thing moved. How human it moved. The way it appeared out of nowhere, the way it looked so unnatural yet each movement looked nearly human, just ever so slightly uncanny.

Your mind is running wild, wondering if you’re encountering a ghost, a spirit. You nearly call that idea silly but then you remember everything else you’ve been experiencing and suddenly the thought seems more plausible than ever.

When you try to recall what this…Thing looked like, you struggle. You can’t quite make out what its height was, your angle from atop the horse skewing the perspective slightly, and the way you startled definitely did not help. You can’t remember any expression, a face - The thought only makes you shudder.

Your entire body feels like jello after multiple startles, yet somehow your muscles feel tense and rock solid. One more thing like that and you’d drop dead off of your horse, you think to yourself.

Whatever this thing is, it seems to be following you, maybe even taunting you. Yet it seems nearly…Innocent in what it does, startling you and then hiding again, it reminds you of a child, misbehaving and messing around, and then hiding as soon as the adults react.

Trying to keep your heart from reaching up into your throat, you continue onwards, this time at a walking pace. It’s at this point that you realise that you have entirely lost the last little flickers that alerted you to where the mysterious mare and her rider have disappeared off to. Your entire rush back up into the hills is for nothing, you realise.

Your shoulders slump and an annoyed scoff escapes you.

“Shit.” Your voice is low, your tone defeated and resigned. You not only gave up your opportunity at a comfortable rest by Goldenleaf and getting back home before rainfall, but you risked your safety by blindly running back up the hills in the pitch black all for…Nothing. You chew the inside of your lip, feeling nearly bashful that it backfired so badly and -

“That’s a bad word!”

You nearly topple off of your saddle as you give a short yelp. You twist your neck to the left so fast you swear you feel something pull.

Standing to your left, barely distinguishable, is a child. His short frame is wrapped in some unnatural, ethereal white glow. The kid’s entire shape seems to be obscured by it and it’s hard to tell where the kid’s form ends and the white glow begins. The glow is subtle, all things considered, but it still faintly illuminates the surrounding leaves.

Your shoulder slump, a cold sadness grabbing hold of your heart. A child. A ghostly, young boy who is currently grinning up at you, giggling at the fact that you just swore. His face is hard to focus on, his shape clearly not meant to be seen by the human eye, but you can still see his soft face squishing together with his big grin.

You feel frozen. There is the undeniable urge to hold the boy in your arms, to comfort him, to bring him home to his parents, to weep. He cannot be older than seven years. The weight of that realisation makes your throat run dry, the faintest sting of tears in your eyes. What had happened to such a young kid..?

Looking down at the boy, your mind doesn’t even have the room or time to freak out at the fact that this seems to be a ghost, a real ghost right in front of you. All you can focus on is how small he is, how young he looks, how wrong it looks to see him in this undead state.

He’s holding his hands behind his back, wobbling back and forth on his feet, still smiling up at you, amused at having caught an adult being bad. The giddy posture of his just makes you swallow the lump in your throat, unsure what to even say. The boy beats you to it, either way.

“You can’t say those things!” His voice is light, like a windchime, but slightly hard to understand and nearly muffled. You can hear the excitement in his tone, the soft giggle. Oh, how your chest is aching. “What will your mama think!?”

You can’t help but give the boy a smile, the sadness in it would be evident to anyone older, but the boy clearly misses the heaviness of your tone as you reply:

“You’re right… Y-you got me.” You swallow down more emotions that threaten to bubble up. You can feel the way your horse remains alert, curious but it doesn’t seem to be unnerved or tense. Somehow, that just makes you even sadder.

When you open your mouth to ask the boy what he’s doing out here, you’re cut off by the sounds of heavy hooves. Your eyes widen a fraction and in the corner of your vision you can see the way your horse’s ears move to point toward the source of the sound.

Hesitant to take your eyes off of the small, ghostly child, you turn to look up toward the right. And sure enough, the sight makes the air leave your lungs.

Your eyes immediately meet the gaze of the mare, and as always, it feels like she is able to peer right into your heart and soul. For a second, you wonder if she truly can. Her pace is relaxed, her head somewhat low as she seems to be in no rush. Her imposing energy nearly makes you wish you had not gone through with this plan. The entire evening, things seemingly tried to lure you away from the headless horseman, yet you pushed past it all. And now you are facing the consequences, her eyes intelligent and sharp.

Allowing your eyes to move upward, you let your gaze wander over Thompson. Your eyes stay on the ripped fabric that still hangs by his chest, knowing the missing piece is in your very own pocket. The thought makes your pulse spike, your posture tense.

Mare and rider both seem relaxed, moving in a shallow curve to come to a stop in front of you, but facing the child. With the way they're standing, you're looking directly at the mare's side at a slight angle. What breaks the silence, is another giggle from the young boy, who is still standing off to the side.

You can see his giddy body language continue, one hand clumsily on his face as he grins big and bright. It’s like watching a young kid play hide and seek, giggling when they are found and wanting nothing more than to continue playing.

The mare gives a huff through her nose, her fiery mane flickering in the wind, its warmth reaching you in mere seconds of proximity. Without the rain you had seen her in last time, you are actually able to spot the way small embers fly upward in between the flames, floating up into the air like stars.

For a moment it nearly seems like Thompson and the boy are having a conversation you cannot hear, something you are not able to catch. You notice the way Thompson’s gloved hand adjusts his holds on the reigns, his arms relaxed as he does this.

Meanwhile, your own knuckles are nearly white under your gloves and your jaw is so tense it might just snap. Tonight has been nothing but confusing, throwing you off of your balance at every turn it seems to get. The scene in front of you is far from what you could have ever expected.

Your gaze snaps over to Thompson when you catch movements from him, your eyes widening and your mouth tightening into a thin line as you watch the way he draws his sword from where it is strapped to his back.

The blade glimmers in the flickering light of the mare’s flames, the sight of it making your blood run cold and your mind flare up in absolute terror and confusion. Your heart is beating loudly in your ears. Watching him wordlessly, you sit in your saddle absolutely shocked.

What is he drawing his sword against? The child!? You!? Both seem utterly asinine, but as your mind jumps to worst case scenarios, you cannot help but hope it is you instead of the poor boy. A voice in your mind is loudly demanding to grab your reins and make down the hill as fast as possible, to get away from the deadly omen that has just drawn a weapon in your presence. But deep down, you know that if he is planning to harm you, even running wouldn’t help you. So as helpless as watching the reaper angle a scythe, you keep your eyes on him.

Forgetting to breathe, you watch the way he lowers his sword to his side, his shoulder moving when he twists the handle in his hand to adjust his grip on it. The ease with which he does this clearly tells you just how used he is to the shape and weight of it in his hand. Even though he isn’t even turned toward you, the thought makes you swallow dryly.

You try to find answers in the mare and Thompson’s posture, but both seem neither agitated nor tense. Thompson’s movements seem stern, but not…Threatening.

His right arm is extended to the side as he slowly raises the sword, the tip of the blade pointed directly somewhere far off in the forest. Your brows furrow as all you can do is watch. Worried and confused, you look back down to the child, who seems entirely unconcerned and still oddly giddy as he looks down toward where the sword is pointed. Is this all a game to the kid? Are you… Missing something? You take note of the way the blade is not pointed at either you or the boy, so what is…? You catch the subtle way Thompsons torso seems to tilt slightly in response to the boy's laughter, his shoulders uneven as he does so. It reminds you of the posture one would have when tilting their head.

Picturing that little gesture is all it takes for your angle of the situation to switch around. The Mare’s little huff, the way Thompson seems to be in no rush, the giggly demeanour of the child, the way Thompson seems stern but not in the way a deadly phantom would be, but rather…Like a mentor. Like a Parent.

Your eyes soften when you look down to the kid, who grins up at you one more time before hurriedly making his way down the direction Thompson was pointing toward. It’s hard to tell with the way the ghostly wisps of white obscure the child, but it nearly looks as if he’s waving to you.

With tiny, quick steps and a certain skip to his pace, the boy rushes behind one of the trees and…Disappears. You wait for a moment, waiting to see his little smiling face to pop back up…But it remains still. The boy is gone.

This…This isn’t a terrible phantom coming to punish some lost soul, this is…A shepherd. Someone guiding the poor young boy back on track, he’s… Here to pick him up. You have heard countless stories on Jorvik, talking about how this is the season for ghosts to stumble back into the land of the living. It makes sense that a young kid would be the one to waddle furthest from home and need to be taken back safely.

The little ghost was playing around, lost in the woods, away from where he needs to be…So rider and mare came to help him back home. No wonder their body language nearly seemed fond, rather than annoyed or angered. The raise of the sword was no threat of violence, but instead how a parent would point to the doorway and urge you to come back inside after missing curfew. The comparison makes something in your chest sting. Had you…Misunderstood them entirely? Has all your worry and your panic been misplaced?

Your gaze flickers back up to Thompson, watching his back while he lowers his arms. You can see the way his shoulders slump, as if to sigh. He turns his torso back toward you, his companion adjusting her stance as well and facing you more, the reins in one of Thompson's hands.

With practised ease, he sheathes the sword onto his back once more, the glimmering blade disappearing. The lack of a weapon in his hand does wonders to help your nerves. But watching this all unfold did quick work of a lot of your anxiety already.

You remain seated in your saddle somewhat stiffly, your eyes flickering back to the tree the boy had disappeared behind. The idea of him being gone makes your lips turn downward.

“Where is…Where did he go?”

Your question is hesitant and your tone somewhat hushed, unsure if you’ll even get an answer. It also sounds slightly strangled, as if a band is wrapped around your throat. With your sadness and worry for the ghostly child visible on your face you, look back to Thompson.

He watches you for a second, his posture nearly..Sad. Thompson raises one hand in a loose fist and gently lets it rest against his chest, right at the height of one's heart. The reply feels relieving and heartbreaking as you try your best to understand it. “Home..?” You all but mouth, your voice nearly too airy to be audible.

Thompson gives a gentle bow in confirmation. You repeat the single word again, whispering it to yourself as you glance back to the trees.

You cannot help but wonder what it means. Home for a young ghost like that. Is it lonely? Is it full of his favourite candy that he can never get stomach aches from? Is it welcoming and warm? Are there friends for him to play hide and seek with? The heaviness of your thoughts make your eyes sting for a moment.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. You don’t notice the way Thompson and his mare catch your sadness.

Once you open your eyes again, you remember what you had even come all the way out here in the first place. You have countless questions you wish to ask, things you want to know - But you know that this is neither the time nor place for it. With still shaking hands, you look down and look through your pocket. In the corner of your vision you can spot the way the fiery mare leans slightly closer, her snout curious, trying to see what you’re doing. Thompson also straightens out his posture somewhat, clearly also confused for a moment at your sudden, wordless search.

A small sound of satisfaction leaves your lips when you manage to pull the brooch out of your coat pocket. You run your gloved thumb over the cold, golden metal once, an unnamed feeling spreading through your chest. Nevertheless, you give a soft sigh and gently fold the fabric a bit nicer underneath the brooch.

Both of them recognize what you’re holding immediately, and both seem to be equally as surprised.

“I - I came to give it back to you.” You try your hardest to keep your voice even, but your nerves are still present no matter what you try. “Thank you for lending it to me.”

Thompson's hands raise ever so slightly, like he is surprised at your words. Before you can say anything else or try to read his body language any more, you let out a short, surprised sound as the mare steps closer. To your credit, even Thompson seems slightly startled by the sudden movement, so you don’t feel as bad.

You lean away from her slightly, your heart racing at the proximity to the intimidating mare. Her snout presses into your palm that’s holding the brooch, seemingly inspecting it. Your torso leans away from her, your eyes wide as you let her do what she wishes.

In the meantime, your horse seems entirely unbothered, simply a bit curious at best. The mare’s flaming mane warms up your skin and as you watch her nudge and sniff the brooch, you cannot help but smile a bit, the way she is acting nearly …Cute.

You don’t realise, but Thompson catches the way you begin to smile, and it seems to put him at ease a bit, watching you relax around the mare. Once she’s done, a short huff escapes her while she leans back, nearly as if she is pleased with whatever she was checking it for.

A nervous, little laugh leaves your lips at that. You lift your hand up higher and extend it out toward Thompson, for him to take the brooch from you.

You nearly hesitate in your movement, your hand slightly stuttering. Do you really want to give it back? Lose the last thing that ties you to the headless horseman? What if this is the last time you’ll see him and the mare?

Before you can worry about it any further, you feel the leather of his gloves brush your palm as he takes it from your grasp, his hand so gentle you can barely believe it’s the same hands that held his sword with such ease.

He runs his gloved thumb over the golden metal, just like you did. He seems slightly surprised, possibly at the way it shines and glimmers after you cleaned it. His hand closes around the brooch and he gives you another gentle bow, this one longer than the last, a sign of his gratitude. You cannot help but wonder, would there be a smile on his face?

While giving your horse a few pats on its neck, you watch as Thompson carefully pins the brooch back where it belongs, using it to put the ripped green fabric back together, leaving it now only connected by the pins needle. It’s an odd sight, forever a sign of your involvement in his existence. A reminder, you were here. It nearly feels surreal.

For a second, he adjusts the brooch somewhat, until he seems happy with the result and lets his hand fall back down to rest on his thigh. The sight of him gently fiddling with a brooch is nearly endearing.

His mare gently begins to step past you and your eyes never leave the two of them. Her heavy hooves sound muffled on the soil and leaves, and you mentally note that you were indeed right - She leaves no damage in her path. Once she walks past you and the distance between you and the mare becomes greater, you feel the lack of warmth nearly violently quick. A shiver runs under your skin, becoming audible when it gets past your lips.

You watch the way Thompson gently comes to a stop again, and you wonder what he’ll do next. He’s a few steps ahead of you, facing to head deeper into the hills. Then, he holds his hand out, beckoning you to follow. You see the way the mare’s gaze lands on you as he looks behind herself as well.

Immediately, your eyebrows move up and your lips fall slightly agape. You stare at them for a moment, feeling your heart hammering in your chest at the option of joining them on a ride. Above you, you spot two magpies landing in a nearby tree, leaves rustling where they land.

You swallow nervously, your eyes falling back down to the pair that is still waiting on your answer.

With Goldenleaf and the storm forecast temporarily forgotten, you nod, a small smile on your face as you gently urge your horse to fall into pace next to Thompson and his mare.

Immediately you feel warm again.

#Star Stable #sso #star stable online #ssoblr #galloper thompson #Old Kings Road #galloper thompson x reader #gunnar thrymson

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somuchwatersoclosetohome · 2 months ago

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stage/fright: the last weekend pt. 1 (aka the haunted matinee)

so it has been a week since the last weekend (hur hur) of stage/fright at the wyndham's... and what better way to reminisce than joining me for my last 2 recaps!! i really need to dredge up the memories for these yeesh

sorry for the delay, i actually had to go and return to my real life this week and do some work... special thanks to @vagueeyes for being my viewing partner for this one; i actually have very little to add beyond her recaps (here, here, here)! this is only probably interesting if you're interested in how this matinee panned out a little differently... i will post the final_final_final.pdf show recap probably later today or tomorrow 😎

in general, if you are looking for actually intellectual insights or aesthetic imagery, i provide neither of these :))) i would describe myself as the saturday early evening slot - vaguely entertaining, reasonably low-brow, and more like a starter to the actual main event

i'll also take this chance to post my other recaps (❗all contain spoilers, obviously, so if you haven't seen stage/fright, go to bbc iplayer and... oh hang on, this is the wrong fucking script❗) - i didn't actually write up my first watch on 04/03 because i think i was in a state of complete shock where i, much like steve, only saw reece, but here's the rest if u are interested:

episode 2, 08/03 (and my thoughts beforehand)

episode 3, 22/03

episode 4, 28/03

episode 5, 04/04

spoilers for the FINAL STAGE/FRIGHT WYNDHAM'S MATINEE 05/04 below

le general observations

ok so i think most people know that this was the matinee where they had technical issues at the interval and so very excitingly they had to do a slightly different act 2 (more on that later)

anyway, the general vibe of this show was goooood and a good warm-up for the final evening 😊

act i

this was the first time that i noticed how steve looks at reece during their stage/fright intro, where he delivers the line about grief making you "see things that aren't there" and BAM i'm under. i had never noticed this before that they were laying the groundwork for the reece/toby story so early. nicely done pembo oppa i see u

the hostage was louis theroux!! given that i had the insane privilege of seeing sir ian mckellen as the hostage the night before, louis was...... a very different style let's say

louis did himself admit that he "is not a stage actor" and i can confirm that there was no banana eating or audience work a la sir ian. the man is beautifully awkward

he did however perform a snippet of his "viral rap" which was a THRILL (exhibit a, b, c) (@vagueeyes here is the core piece of louis theroux lore that you were missing 😂)

@vagueeyes already did a great job of recalling all louis' references during the sketch

later that weekend louis posted his top 9 of in9 on insta which made me laugh because i hope he's told reece the details of his ranking in minute detail

interval thoughts

ha, well in contrast to my previous interval thoughts, let me tell you there was A LOT more to think about

at first all was normal and then as @vagueeyes and i were seated waiting for act ii to start we were like... hmm... this feels like longer than 20 mins

then the theatre general manager (the man who in a previous episode had said to me "be careful, he'll kill you" when i had used one of the power sockets in the stalls to charge my phone hahah) came to the front with a handheld mic and apologised for the delay and that there were *~technical problems~*

looking at the company stage manager, he said that they didn't expect it to be any longer than 10 mins..... famous last words

ok so another like... 20? mins goes by so we're at like 40 mins now and various members of the crew and front of house look somewhat... perturbed

at this point i'm like oh DAYUM what if i don't get to see my second half! what if i don't get to see hugo!! what if they don't fix it before the evening show, their final show?!

i'm also lol'ing at the image presumably of reece absolutely losing it over (what we had all assumed but not had confirmed at this point) the screen having fucked up. i would have liked to have been a fly on the wall to experience this rage

the GM comes back but this time with david, the associate director for the show who then also comes on over the mic and apologises that they still haven't fixed the issue but they are going to continue with A DIFFERENT SECOND ACT that no one has ever seen before..... and the crowd goes wild

so there's another 10 mins or so before the curtains come up again and awaaaay weeee gooooo. obviously huge cheers ensue

act ii

the second act starts as usual... i wonder how the cast are feeling??

i was way more focused on seeing how hugo/reece absolutely trolls sherrie/miranda and trying to make her break when he first enters... the good morning x3 and the walk is honestly just too ridiculous, and they let that pause after he says good morning hang way longer than they used to

literally not since that ONE show i went to has hugo's song+dance got the applause it deserves??? sighs

SO the first clue of the technical issues is when goudron is describing what happened to his wife and usually there's the projection on the wall behind with a figure being whacked over the head with the shovel... none of that

and so it transpires that yes, the big projection screen that tbh plays a pretty pivotal role in act ii is nowhere to be seen 😱

it does mean that during the rehearsal section we get a lot of new funny content... marcus and vince's lines about it being 'live theatre' get hugeeeee cheers from the audience, so much so that again they do just kinda... stop and let the line hang

already covered in other recaps but then yes, we get to the line about 'bringing the screen down' to which vince is now like 'let's not!!1! they never fucking work anyway', to which again, big lols

reece i think fluffs whatever a new line was meant to be, because him and steve kinda look at each other laughing after that and reece is like, "oh is it my line?" lmao

iirc they still kept most of this script the same tho

when they clear the set to make way for the 'screen'/trepanning scene, steve is still stood on the platform as it starts moving and he stumbles and starts laughing as he nearly falls off the damn thing ahah

the entire section where the screen would be is done without - the warden still has the video cam but your eyes actually have to be on the cast rather than up at the screen now

they still have the section with abby and sherrie and the 'recording' with the camera, but again you don't 'see' what abby sees in the wings. they leant a lot more on using sound cues to make this bit scary

i also noticed that usually abby exits stage right when she goes to 'get frank at stage door', but this time she goes off stage left. i haven't worked out if that was on purpose or not yet

sherrie then still goes backstage w/ the camera, and they still do the dark figure with the bright light, but since we can't see anything it then just skips straight to the head falling. pOW

sooooo interesting how they made all of these changes in the space of the interval and just ran with it!!! kudos to the whole company it was such a fun experience as a viewer!!

i'd be v interested in a first-time viewer's take - i don't think it would have affected the experience too much if you had never seen it before, it was still spooky, but obv as a repeat viewer you realise just how much the screen and projections add to the second act

in some ways i guess it's a shame if that had been your only viewing bc you wouldn't have ever experienced the canon version, but in another way it is again the magic of live theatre that you really do never see the same show twice

in conclusion a bloody good bit of theATrE as vince might say

👻 tl;dr turns out spooky shit happens if you summon bloody belle 86 times!! don't think it's bollocks now do ya???

#stage fright #stage/fright spoilers #inside no 9 #inside no. 9 #inside number 9 #in9 #reece shearsmith #steve pemberton #RAMBLING.COM #stage/fright

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dozyarchive · 2 months ago

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✦ I See Us in Black and White ✦

All For Love - Pt. II

CW// Implied Violence, Implied Murder

The dock is quiet, it’s a slow day. Max sees two men standing near a larger boat, dressed for fishing. He follows Oscar, Charles right behind him.

“Lucas, Kyle!” Oscar calls out, watching at the taller of the two turns first. Striking green eyes and the same smile that Lilli has greets him, his brown hair cropped short on the sides but still a bit long on the top.

“Oscar, how’s it going? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, huh?” Lucas jokes, welcomes the younger, giving him a warm hug.

“I’ve been good! And it has been a while, but I guess that’s what happens when you decide to drive really fast for a living,” Oscar jokes back, getting a laugh from the other Floridian man.

“Amen to that, man. It’s been a hot second. You absolutely killed Austria and Silverstone, man.” He gives him a hand shake and half hug, clapping Kyle on the back.

“Thanks, congrats on the Indy 500, it was well deserved.”

Max smiles a bit, seeing how comfortable Oscar is.

“Lucas, you of course know Max. Kyle, I’m sure you’ve heard enough from Logan about him,” Oscar introduces him, and he steps forward to greet both men. Lucas pulls him into a half hug, Kyle just giving him a friendly handshake and smile.

“Of course, hard not to know him, isn’t it?”

“And this is Charles, one of our coworkers, but really just a friend.”

“Ah, ravi de vous rencontrer, j'ai beaucoup entendu parler de vous.” (It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.) Lucas gives the man a solid shake and smile. Charles returns the smile, a bit surprised.

“Et toi ! Oscar et Logan ont déjà parlé de vous.” (And you! Oscar and Logan have talked about you before.)

“Alright, we’re loaded up. Logan and Mr. T are already setting everything up, so we should go before all the fun ends,” Kyle calls, stepping onto the boat. Oscar follows, then Charles, then Max.

Lucas grabs the mooring ropes, unhooking them, and jumps on as well. They settle in, taking positions across the boat, ready to skim across the waves.

As Lucas drives the boat, Charles and Max sit with Kyle and talk. Oscar is in the back, looking through the bag he brought with him for something.

“So, did Logan tell you what we’re doing today?” Kyle asks, lounging on a cushioned seat, completely at ease on the moving vehicle.

“Kind of? He said something about trying out a new fishing thing, asked if we wanted to join,” Max supplies, enjoying the sun. Charles nods in agreement, also basking in the rays.

“Yeah, something like that,” Kyle remarks, a sharp grin appearing on his face. There’s something in his eyes that sets off a warning bell in Max’s head, but he brushes it off. He knew the stereotypes, the “Florida Man” jokes from Logan.

“That’s them, we’re about 15 seconds out!” Lucas calls out, and the three turn to see two more boats on the water.

One is much smaller than theirs, the other slightly bigger. There’s a dark blue-green flag with a white and light blue design flying from the larger ship.

“Sierra-2, do you copy, over?”

A voice comes over the radio at Kyle’s side, and the man grabs it, answering with a smile.

“Sierra-2 copies, how’s the water feeling, over?”

“Feels promising, over.”

Kyle laughs, standing up as the boat begins to slow down, the other two becoming larger as they approach. Oscar comes back up front while Kyle joins Lucas.

On the largest boat, there’s a man clearly in captain's gear, who just gives the group a nod. The smaller boat, however, held the people Max was here to see.

Logan is slightly flushed from the sun, skin glowing golden in the light. His hair is strikingly blonde, bleached from the exposure. His hands are covered by black gloves, and a pair of dark blue swimming trunks cover his lower half.

The man next to him is dressed similarly, but with black swim trunks and a light green shirt. His brown hair has streaks of gray, and his skin is a bit weathered, wrinkles surrounding his eyes and at the corners of his mouth from smiling.

“Max, Charles, glad you two came!” Logan shouts as the boats settle next to each other. Both men smile, nodding back.

“This is my grandpa, who you’ve already kind of met. Papa, you know Max, and I think you’ve met Charles,” Logan says, pointing to each man respectively.

Max greets the older man with a smile and firm handshake, laughing wryly about the difference from their last meeting. Charles also offers the older man a handshake, and they exchange pleasantries.

“It’s good to see you again, I feel like you’re everywhere but near the tracks right now,” Max teases the blonde, and Logan just smiles, giving him a hug. Max gives him a slight squeeze, trying to convey what he’s not saying out loud. Logan squeezes back, letting out a deep breath.

“I’m taking the time to relax, step back. Plus, we saw each other less than three weeks ago.” Logan has a faint streak of red on his cheek, like he wiped something off but didn’t get it fully. The water in the floor of the boat is tinged pink, and there’s a black trash bag balled up under a cooler.

Charles comes to greet the younger man now, while Max moves to talk to Oscar and Kyle.

“Logan, good to see you again.”

“You too, Charles. I’m glad you decided to come. This is a bit different from the Monaco harbor, but I promise it's no less exciting.” He has the same smile that Kyle did earlier, sharp and dangerous, and his eyes shine with that same something that makes every warning bell in Charles’s head go off, but Max seems to be calm, and Oscar is completely fine.

“What have you been doing so far?” Max queries, watching Logan check some sort of line going off of the boat and into the water. He peers over the edge, seeing a darker mass some feet down

“Setting up really, waiting for something to bite,” Thomas responds casually, shoulders going up in a little half shrug.

“So nothing yet?” Charles follows up, peering over the edge of the boat. The water is dark, the sun reflecting off of it like sapphires.

“Well, we saw some dolphins earlier, and had a great white come up beside us for a second before running away,” Logan comments, ignoring the look Max and Charles share.

Lucas nimbly jumps from boat to boat, climbing onto the largest one. He begins to talk to the captain, while Kyle attaches the two smaller boats with a length of rope.

“You said something about trying a new thing, what was it?” Max turns to Logan, who just nods to his grandfather.

“A new kind of bait. I want to see if we can catch anything big, maybe even a shark,” Thomas jokes, and Logan lets out a loud laugh.

“I’m not sure, even sharks have standards, and this meat was a bit…”

“Rotten,” Oscar finishes his boyfriend’s sentence, wrapping his arms around Logan from the back, his chin resting on his head. The blonde leans back, nodding in agreement.

“Even rotten meat will attract attention,” Thomas quips, eyes dark. It’s the same look Logan had, and Kyle much earlier. It makes something in Max shiver, deep inside, like an animal realizing it’s being watched.

“If we do catch anything, I hope Lilli and Mrs. Julie can cook it, I miss her cooking,” Oscar comments, looking perfectly content, leaning heavily against Logan’s back, soaking in the sun.

“We could just push Kyle in and use him as bait, I’m sure he’ll get us a shark,” Lucas calls out from the largest boat. Kyle squawks something out in protest, but joins in the laughter

Eventually, one of the multiple lines set up starts moving, something under the water giving it a good tug. Logan and Lucas quickly pull up two large snappers, while Thomas and Kyle fight a large grouper. Logan takes Max under his wing, and they end up catching a small blacknose shark, much to Max’s horror. Charles also looks at the animal with poorly concealed terror, but Oscar just watches with a smile as Thomas and Lucas take pictures of the two to send to Lilli. They release the large fish, and Oscar throws a large piece of bait to it as a parting gift.

Soon enough, the sun is starting to go down, and they pack up, ready to head back inland. Logan pilots the smallest of the boats, Oscar and Max staying with him, while Lucas takes their original boat back in with Kyle and Charles. Thomas boards the largest of the three, and promises to meet them back in time for dinner, mentioning he has something to take care of. Logan and Oscar share a look, one that Max almost misses, but he catches it out of the corner of his eye. It’s a knowing look, one that puts that flicker of a dark void back in Logan’s eyes. Oscar’s are a cool as ever, level, nothing showing through, but his smile is off. It’s pointed, bordering on turning into a sneer.

Max decided to not question it. That same feeling from earlier, the same feeling he got from Kyle’s smile, is back. The hair on the back of his neck wants to stand on end. But he shakes it off, focusing on the water beginning to rush pass as the boat picks up speed. The sun reflects off the waves like flashes of light through a stained glass window, oranges, pinks, yellow, purple, and blues. It doesn’t take long before they see the port. Lucas is hot on their tail with Kyle laughing at the front of the boat.

“Mama and Nana are meeting us at the port, and then we’re heading to Nana and Papa’s house to eat,” Logan calls out, Oscar letting out a hum. Max just nods, watching as he directs the boat with expert precision.

Logan was by no means a bad driver, he had done well in the lower levels. Despite the mess that was his F1 career, Logan was skilled. If everyone could see him like this, confident and sharp, they'd see that. Max watched as he killed the engine at the perfect time, his head swiveling around, and maneuvering between the other docked boats. It was extraordinary to watch, seeing how in his element Logan was.

As they dock, Oscar carefully hops off, grabbing the mooring ropes. A dock hand helps him, and Logan finishes shutting the boat off. Max grabs his bag, as well as the black trash bag that he assumed hosted the new bait Logan and Thomas had mentioned.

“You can just toss that bag in the trash Max. The bins are where the gangways meet,” Logan calls out. Max nods, hopping off and heading towards the main walkway. He sees them eventually, large metal trash bins. Setting his bag down, he begins to gather the black trash bag up when he feels something in the bottom. He hears the crunch of broken plastic and glass and stops, opening it up to peer into the bottom.

It reeks of something metallic, and some sort of sticky liquid coats the inside. Max sees something, a boxy black thing, broken, in the bottom of the bag. Shattered glass and cracked plastic, a gray cloth strap stained with something dark, brown or red. He ignores it, ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach, in favor of the soaring feeling in his heart when he sees Lilli, dressed in a pretty pair of light colored shorts and a swimsuit coverup.

“Did you have fun?” she calls out, smiling widely. Max nods, tossing the bag into the large garbage bin. Charles walks up from another gangway, carrying the cooler that holds some of their haul, setting it down to carefully greet Lilli with cheek kiss and hug.

“Your father and son are an intimidating duo in the ocean, I would not like to be a fish on the end of their lines,” he jokes. Lilli laughs, nodding along, and gives Max a kiss on the cheek as well.

“I don’t have the same affinity for deep sea fishing, Lucas has that covered, but I certainly understand that. But, You’ll love dinner tonight, my mother and I will be cooking everything up,” she gestures to an older woman a little bit away, the same brown hair and blue eyes.

“I’ve heard a lot about her cooking from Oscar, I’m very excited,” Charles gives the older woman a wave, grabbing the cooler again and walking over to deliver it.

“So, how was it really?” Lilli asks, letting Max pull her closer, resting her hands on his shoulders. He stares up at her, those two inches of height difference really making themselves known.

“Mildly terrifying. It’s a different feeling, being in the middle of nowhere, the ocean is so large and so deep. Logan is also very intimidating when he wants to be,” Max comments the last bit after a second, eyes flickering a bit. Lilli just laughs, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“It is a bit scary, now you know why I tend to stay closer to shore.”

Max doesn’t mention what he saw in that bag, because he’s sure Logan wouldn’t want Lilli to know. He’s well enough acquainted with the underbelly of sports, although new to the political world he’s stepped into regarding Lilli and the Meyer-Sargent family. He’s seen his father do unspeakable things, knows what a human can be pushed to do.

But he also knows that Lilli is one of the most important people in his life, and knows she has a loving family that would do a lot for her. Max has seen Logan’s protective instincts, seen him get his hands dirty, and Oscar is there to clean them off later. He’s sure that Lilli has some idea, but he’ll spare her of this.

“Let’s go, I want to see what you and your mother are making, Logan praises both of your cooking.” Max finally settles on herding her away from the dock and boats, away from the pink tinged water, and towards the sound of laughter and joy.

A/N. Comets, here's the second part, this section was my favorite to write. Anyway, I See Us brain worm is very active, I'm looking at finished chapter seven soon and then possibly posting chapter six either Monday or Wednesday! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy! Please check out my Masterlist for any of my other works!

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#writing #dozyarchive #fanfic #dozyisdead #dozyisdeadworks #max verstappen #f1 #i see us in black and white #max verstappen x oc #✦i see us series✦#logan sargeant #oscar piastri #kyle kirkwood #loscar

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dr-futbol-blog · 11 months ago

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The Siege II, Pt. 1

So, we begin the second part of the three part episode The Siege (S01E20), the grand finale of the first season. The previous episode ended dramatically with Sheppard seeming to go full dark side executing a prisoner of war because he was so distraught by the news received from Weir about their plans to take out the wraith using the Ancient satellite having failed. This much is true however you interpret Sheppard and McKay's personal relationship. But as we start the final episode of the season, we seem to have skipped right over something important.

The episode begins with McKay coming down the stairs from the jumper bay, apparently having only just arrived back on Atlantis and still wearing the red jumpsuit he wore during the mission. The approach of the two remaining hives is shown on the screen. McKay, Weir and Sheppard all seem to be business as usual, and something major has definitely been entirely glossed over. This is the first time they see each other since McKay took off in the beginning of the previous episode. The ending of the previous episode was dramatic. Sheppard seemed to be on the brink of a dark crevice and now it's as though none of it had even happened.

Only, it did happen. And the fact that it did happen has everything to do with the resolution of this episode and the culmination of the entire season. There are scenes between these two episodes that we don't get to see for reasons that are never explained, but they must have happened. Sheppard must have learned that McKay didn't die at some point, and he probably learned it from Weir. But he very much did think that McKay had died. What he did between thinking that McKay had died and finding out that he hadn't but was in fact on his way back home seems like a pretty important part of the narrative and it's jarring that we don't get to see it. And the reason we don't get to see it is that is the same as to why we don't get to see many of those private moments between them; that part of the narrative plays out only in the sub-text. Showing it would give away the game.

We do see what Sheppard looks like when he thinks that McKay has died much later on in Doppelganger (S04E04). His literal worst nightmare is having to watch McKay die in front of him without being able to do anything to save him. First, he is in shock. He can't believe that it's real. He looks at everyone in the room, all the doctors gathered around McKay, to tell him that it isn't real.

But inevitably the reality of the situation sinks in and we can see his heart breaking. I invite you to compare is face here, when it finally hits him, to how he looked at the end of the previous episode. The only difference is the camera angle, Sheppard was looking up at the people in the observation room in the first one and down at the wraith in the second.

That is the face of a man that has just lost everything that matters to him.

In his nightmare, some time seems to pass and we find him alone, walking through an empty hallway. He doesn't know where he's going, he has nowhere to go. He's slow, sluggish, like his body is still moving while no one's home. Like his body is still alive when he has died inside. He is literally lost, he doesn't seem to know where he is. He isn't really thinking about anything, there are only jumbled half-formed thoughts in his head. He's gone. It can't be real. How could this happen? How could I let this happen? I failed to save him. How could you leave me? Come back. Please. I can't do this without you. I can't be without you. Rodney. Oh God, please being him back. He can't be gone. All of this you can see on his face.

This here, something very similar to this is precisely what Weir saw before she could fill him in on what had happened out there. This is how Weir found Sheppard. When Sheppard later tells her, "I have to and you know it!" this is what he means. She knows because she saw him like this. She saw the depth of his grief. She grieved for the loss of a dear friend, Peter Grodin, but what she saw in Sheppard was something altogether different. It was witnessing this, it was having to talk Sheppard out of this despair, that brought them close, made them actual friends, caused Sheppard to finally trust her with the truth of the matter. The pain was too acute for him to keep pretending like he hadn't just lost someone that he loved in all the ways that a man can love. He may even have hated her before he learned the truth for having made him stay back when the decision to stay back had ultimately been his own. He was utterly adrift, completely lost until she told him the greatest thing he has ever heard. He was alive, and he was coming home.

It isn't until Search and Rescue (S05E01) that we see how Sheppard reacts to the information that McKay is alive when he had thought him dead. Before he learns that McKay is alive, he had given up on everything. He didn't care if he lived or died. He knew that the fate of the entire human race depended on rescuing Teyla, but he didn't even care about that. He had been impaled by a metal rod and had spent the better part of the day being crushed under the weight of an entire building, and none of that hurt as much as the knowledge that McKay was dead and it was because of him, because he had walked him into this ambush when McKay was supposed to live to old age.

And then, suddenly, he learns the truth and he himself is alive again. He has a purpose. He has a job to do. McKay is alive and he's damn well going to make sure he stays that way even if he has to save the world to see that that happens.

Both of these things happened for the first time here, at the end of the first season, between the previous episode and this, and we didn't get to see them. This is a huge thing, one that has repercussions not only on how they wrap up this season but far down the line, and we don't get to see any of it on screen. This isn't important just for how we interpret Sheppard and McKay's relationship but is foundational for the close bond Sheppard shares with Weir and how that plays out. Their bond may not be romantic but it is nonetheless significant, and we don't get to see how it comes to be.

There was a lot of emphasis on communication via devices in the previous episode. We don't know whether McKay had communicated with Atlantis or Sheppard had communicated with the jumper between the episodes. Finding out that McKay was alive may have unburdened Sheppard, but McKay was still very much feeling like he had personally failed them all. Sheppard may feel relieved but McKay was crushing under the weight of his guilt. McKay wasn't anything close to alright with what had happened. They both seem raw as they see each other for the first time, here. They may have discussed it between the episodes. Alternatively, there may not have been anything to say, and if Sheppard had tried to contact him, he may only have received curt monosyllabic answers from McKay.*

Their reunion takes place in public, under the watchful eyes of pretty much the entire expedition, which means that they are not free to make any kind of gestures that might compromise Sheppard. If they hadn't been forced to hide what they are to each other, they might have been able to embrace, Sheppard might have grabbed his hand, would have been able to show in some small way that he cares, that he's there for him. But they don't get to have that. And they are in such a rush to get the entire expedition moving out to the Alpha Site that they have no time to connect with one another.

But all of this, all of this is very important for understanding why they do the things that they do later on in the episode.

When they first meet after all that has transpired, there seems to be some awkwardness between them. McKay glances at Weir but the men are both avoiding looking at each other. Sheppard turns away and lets Weir walk between them which is very unusual for him. Weir welcomes McKay but McKay glosses right over the pleasantries:

Weir: Welcome back, Rodney. McKay: Where are we? Weir: Our scanners show the hive ships have started moving again, although their pace has slowed considerably. Sheppard: Obviously you gave them something to think about.

Sheppard is the first to reach out both by looking at McKay and saying something to him. McKay has his back to him and doesn't turn to look at him, not at first. Sheppard tries to look away but now that he has seen McKay, he seems unable to do that again. Although it must be anything but easy for him, Sheppard still tries to connect with McKay, addresses him directly. And what Sheppard says here is also designed to ease McKay's guilt over what happened, to make him feel better. This is the first of three attempts ('rule of three!') in this episode for Sheppard to ease the burden other people keep piling on his shoulders. Sheppard seems really unsure of what he's supposed to do here, but he still tries. He can't not try. The experience of believing he had lost McKay for good has has proven to him without a shadow of a doubt that that man is the most important thing in his life.

While Weir is talking shop in his ear, McKay does finally turn to look at Sheppard, for the first time since they parted almost three days ago. It's possible that neither of them even hear what she says because that exchanged look, brief though it is, communicates everything between them. The hurt, the guilt, the shame, the pain, the longing, the pleading, the need, the love, above all the love. Naked, there for each of them to see, to read off of the other's face.

Where Sheppard can see that McKay is not alright, Weir just makes him feel even worse by reminding him that he has failed in his duty of figuring out something to save them all:

Weir: Well, if they get here in two hours, or two days, it doesn't change the fact that we're out of options. We can't hope to fight them, so unless either of you have any more ideas…

With this, Weir basically undoes what Sheppard was trying to do by telling McKay that his mission hadn't been for nothing. McKay turns away again as Weir looks to him, unable to meet her gaze. He doesn't respond, doesn't say anything. There's nothing to say.

Sheppard immediately notices what her words do to him, and he literally gives her the side-eye, narrowing his eyes in disapproval. The next we see McKay, he has folded his arms in front of him defensively, still half-turned away from Sheppard.

They seem to be at the end of the rope, and the three of them each go to their own computer terminals to arm the self-destruct mechanism. And I want to highlight this, because it's important for later: at this point in time it takes both Weir and Sheppard to arm it, both of their personal passwords. They waited for McKay to arm it but it does not seem like he has anything to do with the arming, he is just standing by the dialing computer prepared to dial the stargate. Either of them having the other's password would be counter-productive since the idea is that it's a joint decision, at this time it takes both the military and the civilian commander to arm the self-destruct. We are shown here very clearly that both Weir and Sheppard need to enter their passwords. This is the design of the device, it's a fail-safe mechanism ensuring that the decision is not taken lightly or easily. It is Sheppard's personal password, no one else is meant to have it.

McKay is looking at Sheppard when they are entering their passwords, when Sheppard isn't looking at him but is focused on his task, committing this sight to memory.

As they've armed the self-destruct, as they have damned the entire city, he has to look away again. All of this is just a manifestation of how perfectly he has failed all these people. This is all his fault, his responsibility. He can barely stand to be inside of his own skin right now.

If McKay was watching Sheppard when he was arming the self-destruct, Sheppard in turn watches him as he dials the gate in preparation for their move onto the Alpha Site, and it is only the sudden appearance of an in-coming wormhole that is able to make him draw his eyes away from that man.

The arrivals are from SGC, seeming to include a company of marines headed by a Colonel. It seems as though a new hope has arrived, and while they can't quite believe it yet, they don't quite know what to make of it, they certainly welcome this help with open arms. For the expedition this is a wonderful thing, for the security of Atlantis and protecting them from the wraith this is the best news they could have received.

But for Sheppard and McKay's interpersonal relationship, things just got even more tense. They haven't had time to reconnect after the events of the previous episode, they are still unsure around each other, they are both still hurting and raw, and now there is a superior officer on base that Sheppard owes allegiance to (emphasized by how Ford immediately salutes the man, Colonel of the USMC to which he belongs). If they were unfree to show what is brewing underneath the surface within both of them individually and between them before, their hands are not completely tied. The reality of it seems to slowly sink in as Sheppard watches them coming in.

However much it might be killing Sheppard inside that he can't get to McKay to comfort him, to be able to touch him to know that he's real and that he's here, that he didn't die, that he hadn't lost him, his duty holds him back with a vise grip. And however much McKay may be dying to have Sheppard come to him, to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that it's not all up to him, that they can still figure this out together. that it's going to be alright, he is called upon to protect Sheppard from the oppressive system that he serves. They may have needed to be careful around each other in public before, but suddenly they are asked to pretend like there is nothing whatsoever between them. And it could not have come at a worse time.

The arrival of Colonel Everett is a double-edged sword.

Continued in Pt. 2

-* This is veering into fanfic territory but I can imagine Sheppard's attempt to contact McKay after finding out that he's still alive going something like this:

Sheppard: McKay? McKay: McKay here. Sheppard: You're... McKay: What? Sheppard: ... McKay: ... Sheppard: Are you injured? McKay: Negative. Myself and Miller... are uninjured. Sheppard: Good. McKay: Hm. Sheppard: The jumper is unharmed? McKay: It's unharmed. Sheppard: And you're on your way back? McKay: We should be in Atlantis in XX zero hours. Sheppard: Good. McKay: ... Sheppard: We are preparing to evacuate everyone to the Alpha Site. McKay: Okay. Sheppard: We'll wait for you to return before we proceed. McKay: Right. Sheppard: Okay. McKay: Yes. Sheppard: Good. McKay: ... Sheppard: ... McKay: .... Sheppard: I'm... glad that you're alive *click*

And scene.

#stargate atlantis #sga #sga meta #john sheppard #sheppard is bi #rodney mckay #rodney is gay #ep. the siege #ep. doppelganger #ep. search and rescue

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xlatrina · 7 months ago

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(Pt. II.2) Friends to Lovers HCs w/Homicipher x GN!Reader

Tags: Platonic + Romantic HCs, Friends to Lovers trope for basically every LI, Likely OOC for some LIs*, Mini Scenarios (so HCs are kinda plot-driven), *Multi-Part Series, entirely SFW

Also, changing tenses in some cases + not proofread again... sorry!

*Some of the LIs are likely written OOC (Out Of Character) mainly due to a lack of substantial in-game appearances (at least in my opinion!).

*Split into multiple parts because I’ve come to realize that these HCs are muuucccchhh too long 😅 BUT!! I’m too lazy to shorten them sooo… YEAH lol

Part I (Big 🙆‍♂️)

Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓)

Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)

$$$

Mr. Chopped (First Half/Second Half)

Cont.

Mr. Chopped is the type to get super lost in his stories. So lost that his face often morphs accordingly based on whatever he’s babbling about.

When he tells you about the state of his missing body, you watch his face morph from shock to sadness, to confusion, to an adorable pout, and then to excitement.

When he tries to explain his first few encounters with Mr. Silvair (which were rough, since Mr. Silvair appears to be the one who separated Mr. Chopped from his body in the first place), Mr. Chopped’s face morphs from fear to distrust to shock to joy.

This little man is just so darn expressive!

His feelings for you grow as you open up to him more and more.

You tell him about your experiences at work, and you tell him about an internship you finished some time ago (relative to whenever you ended up trapped in the Apartments).

You then tell him about some of your hobbies.

When you suggest doing one or two with him, he beams up at you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him!

He’s probably blushing so baadddd at the thought of it lol

One-on-one personal time for an even longer period of time than usual???

An activity you enjoy that you choose to only ever share with him and him alone??

Even though he’s just a head and you have literally so many other options who all possess bodies and can get around on their own to at least some extent??!

WHAOXOANALXNDLFLDBAHAGVSBSKCKFLDM

At some point, he convinces you to follow his directions to a particular room.

When you get there, you find yourself feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Here darkness,” you say. “We together go find light?”

“Is okay,” Mr. Chopped says. “Go that way! Hurry! Fast!”

You listen and approach a small square in the wall.

Briefly, you wonder if Mr. Gap might be in there, but it seems like the hole is empty.

“Enter! Enter!” Mr. Chopped bounces in your grasp excitedly.

You enter the crawl space and pull yourself through.

Soon, the darkness morphs into a faint whitish color.

Your heart jumps at the senses being triggered as you approach.

You finally come across a small hole, and through it, you peer at a sight you haven’t seen in a long time, your mouth agape as Mr. Chopped watches you excitedly.

The sound of clicking on stones draws your eyes to the heeled shoes strutting back and forth past the hole.

There’s the sound of chatter, laughter, shouting, horns, music…

Something smells good. Sooooo good…

Fresh food. Something’s being grilled…

Damn! Your mouth is starting to water!

“This place where?” You ask, pressing Mr. Chopped closer to your face. It was a super small space, after all.

“This place go to other area! Not know where area is, but if possible, me want to go!” Mr. Chopped grins at you, and you can’t help grinning back.

“Wow…” you say. “This is so cool. I wonder if those people will notice me if I reach out to them, though?”

Mentally, you waved the thought away just as quickly as you thought it.

After all, you promised your friends here some weeks ago that you’d stay. And while you could certainly always change your mind, well…

At the moment, you don’t really have a desire to leave.

“I’m happy you decided to share this with me, Mr. Chopped.” You smile sweetly at him.

“What you say? You happy?” He asks. You giggle at him.

“Am happy together we come here. Am grateful you bring me here. Am lots happy!” You say.

Mr. Chopped's face grows into a deep purplish color.

Mr. Chopped lets out a happy sound, his eyes pressing up into a cute squint.

“You happy!! Me lots happy to see you happy!! This place here for you and me now. We come together here now! You understand??” Mr. Chopped asks.

You giggle, and say “Okay, me understand now.”

…

I think I got carried away there LMAO

Anyway, I feel like with all of that being said, after hanging around you for a while and developing a mutual crush, there will eventually come a time when Mr. Chopped gets tired of this long period of unknowing…

Like, you two are OBVIOUSLY super close to each other —much closer than either of you are to anybody else there!

Y’all are at a point where y'all hesitate to even call each other friends!!

And to be so real with you, my guy…

Mr. Chopped has just straight up stopped calling you his friend!!

And it’s kinda awkward for others…

Cuz like… what exactly are you two???

At some point, Mr. Chopped will probably more or less ask you.

“You enjoy me, and me enjoy you. But together we not friends. You and me together what??”

Because you didn’t immediately answer in like 0.02 seconds, he immediately became fussy and demanded to be taken to Mr. Silvair.

And once you take him there, Mr. Chopped dismisses you, so… yeah…

A few days pass and you start to really miss Mr. Chopped.

I mean, he can’t possibly be that mad, right?? What even happened back then anyway to get him so mad in the first place??

You decide to go see him.

You don’t plan on apologizing because, like… what exactly would you be apologizing for??

But!! You want to get to the bottom of your sudden dismissal that day!!

And if come to find out you did offend him somehow, then you’ll apologize—because it most certainly wasn’t your intention.

Anyway, he wasn’t hard to find, thankfully. He was chilling in the lounge next to the infirmary room, which means Mr. Silvair was likely in the operating room doing… Silvair things in there.

He’s nodding off, going in and out of sleep.

It’s literally soooo adorable to look at.

But you’re here on a mission, so no getting distracted!!

Anywho, you startle Mr. Chopped, and he fusses at you accordingly.

But you cut to the chase, demanding to know why he was so upset the other day and dismissed you like that.

He pouts and says something like, “Me give question, and you not answer!”

Suddenly, he smiles at you. “But is okay, I give answer for you!!”

“Huh?? What you mean?” You ask.

Joyfully, he responds, “You and me together now! You understand?”

OH WOW.

Erm…

Well.

You now have a boyfriend, and that’s just what it is.

But hey!!

At least your boyfriend is super cute!! And fun!! And connected to a pretty smart, innovative guy like Silvair!

And!! Mr. Chopped absolutely adores EVERYTHING about you!!

You and Silvair are the closest people to him.

But, between you and him…

You’re obviously a little more special to him than Mr. Silvair!

[Part I (Mr. Big 🙆‍♂️) | Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓, First Half/Second Half), Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)]

#homicipher headcanons #homicipher x reader #homicipher fanfiction #homicipher #homicipher mr chopped #homicipher mr chopped x reader #mr chopped x reader

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songmingisthighs · 10 months ago

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Oddeleny

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

<< previous | m.list | next >>

ch. lxvi - gotcha

ghost!yeosang × reader

genre : ghost!au

rating, warning : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

wc : 1.2 k

buy me coffee ?

a connection once had, broken with the expectation that the ending is final. but life has an odd proclivity of making attachments from detachments. in the end, we don't know what we lost until we look at what we have

To say Wooyoung hesitated to come was a major understatement because the second Wooyoung got to Mingi and Yeosang's apartment complex, he felt a shiver down his spine, remembering what happened in Yeosang's room. That's why it was so hard for him to knock on the door of the apartment because he didn't know what to expect then.

Frankly, Wooyoung didn't know why he listened to Mingi and agreed to come. Of course, it was curiosity that got the best of him because for the past God knows how long, Wooyoung was trying to look for an explanation or something to relate to. Well, someone. Now that Mingi said the things he said, he wanted to believe that Mingi shared his experience. All in all, Wooyoung hoped that he would be able to get some clue as to what to do with what happened, whatever it was.

So he braced himself, took a deep breath, and rang the bell, almost regretting it immediately and part of his brain told him to just turn around and walk away but Mingi had opened the door.

"Good, you're here," Mingi huffed, convincingly acting as if he was flustered which surprised Wooyoung because he had never been glad for his arrival. Slowly, Wooyoung trailed into the apartment and took off his shoes. "I'm surprised that you're glad I'm here," Wooyoung muttered, looking around the apartment warily as if expecting to see Yeosang standing there. But of course, Yeosang didn't show up.

"So what is it that freaked you out to the point of contacting me?" Wooyoung asked, his eyes still shifting around like a thief who is calculating his move. Mingi made a point to sigh and gestured for Wooyoung to sit on the couch, "I think... It's better for you to sit down first because things could get overwhelming," he stated, confusing Wooyoung who cautiously followed Mingi's direction and sat down. "What are you talking about?" It took him a moment but his eyes widened, "Did you catch Yeosang popping on his computer screen?" Wooyoung asked, his voice laced with anxiety with a hint of excitement.

"Remember how you told your friends that you think your grandma always favoured your twin sister and that you're worried that she's going to give your portion of the inheritance to her because she'd just manipulate her and that you'd make sure nothing like that ever happens?" Mingi started, inching towards his room while Wooyoung's eyes followed his movements. Slowly, Wooyoung nodded but his eyebrows furrowed, "Yeah? What about it?" he asked, now feeling that the conversation was inching somewhere else.

Without saying much more, Mingi opened the door of his room and Seonghwa and San stepped out, surprising Wooyoung enough to make him stand up. "What are you two doing here?" Wooyoung was in no way ready to face the two considering he had abandoned all of his responsibilities to San and their channel and refused to answer Seonghwa's calls. "Wooyoung, we've been talking to Mingi and we're worried about you," Seonghwa started as San only stood by the sides with his arms crossed, trying his best not to immediately attack his credibility as influencer partner. To that statement, Wooyoung's body shifted to a defensive stance, one foot in front of the other as if he was preparing to run if needed. "And what the fuck has Mingi been telling you two? You know he's a liar, right? He exaggerates all of the things he said. He doesn't know half the shit in my life and what I've been doing." Sighing, Seonghwa crossed his arms too and peeked into the room he came from before returning his gaze to Wooyoung, "No, but I've heard a lot, SEEN a lot from (y/n) and that's what got me even more worried."

It was bad enough that Seonghwa, HIS friend, mentioned your name, but to see you coming out of Mingi's room and standing in front of San with people he recognized as your friends spreading along the room almost made him scream. As hard as it was, Wooyoung held his voice in and only snarled at the sight of his twin sister, "And what the hell are you doing here you psycho?" Immediately, the bulky guy next to you (Jongho), took a step forward to swing at Wooyoung only to be held back by the smallest guy of the bunch (Hongjoong). "Hey, it's not like I wanna face you Wooyoung but I'm doing this so your friends don't have to deal with the horse shit you've been piling on me," you scoffed with a roll of an eye, making it obvious that you were done with his antics while simultaneously pissing him off. Judging from the way Wooyoung clenched his fists, it seemed like you achieved your goal.

Wooyoung stood there as he eyed you and his friends, conveniently acting like your own friends weren't even there. Not that any of them cared because they were only there to support you and in addition, Mingi and in extension, Seonghwa and San. "So what did this bitch told you that you were so easily manipulated, huh? Did she told you all about how she was ignored all of our childhood and that she blamed it on me? Did she told you about how she manipulated my grandma and my cousin to the point that our parents were harrassed?" "Save it Wooyoung, we know you've been stalking her and we know that it was you who planted the idea in your parents' brain to kick (y/n) out of school," San finally spoke up, stepping out from behind Seonghwa to face the friend he now barely recognized.

The secret had obviously eaten Wooyoung away like a flesh-eating virus because the person who stood before them was not the proud, cocky, and albeit conceited friend they once know. The guy before them was skittish, wary, he looked like he was running from something which he was and it was his past that was catching up to him at a rapid speed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Wooyoung said as his brain tried to think of a way to inch out slowly, figuring how to get out considering that he was grossly outnumbered. Plus, in his deluded mind, he believed that the people before him were willing to do what he would and what he would do was just something none of the others would even consider.

"Wooyoung, just stop. Aren't you tired of hiding everything?" You snapped, taking steps forward to Wooyoung much to your friends' dismay, "Look at you! No one knew where you've been for weeks and everyone is worried! Frankly, I am because you were not like this before and you're cracking, Wooyoung. You're like a fragile porcelain teacup just a tap away from shattering and God, don't you see how affected your friends are?" Hearing that made Wooyoung blink in realization, his eyes immediately darted to his friends and sure enough, he recognized the worry underneath the stress lines on each of his friends. "They're so worried about you that they rushed here to help you because damn it, Wooyoung, you're out of fucking control! What you've been doing are criminal actions and had it been up to me, I would've put your ass in jail, BELIEVE ME. But against my better judgment and absolute fury, they told me that you deserve a second chance. I know more than ANYONE what it felt to deserve a second chance only to not even be offered it. God knows what it felt like to be the person who actually has the trigger to ruin your whole life at the tip of my finger for retribution only to be coaxed to understand you. So please Wooyoung, make me hate you more by being benevolent because the other side of the coin would allow me to ruin you and if I achieve that so easily, I'd turn into you."

The room fell silent and for once in his life, Wooyung was speechless. He hadn't taken into consideration how his actions affected his friends. Then again, he never had to think about anyone other than himself and he was perfectly fine with that. So it took him by absolute surprise that you'd be the one to speak on behalf of his friends.

"Wooyoung, we want to help you. You need the help. Professional help and we want to be there for you," Seonghwa said from behind you, hesitating to move as he was afraid that if he moved too quickly. Wooyoung would flee like a deer. But Seonghwa braved himself and stepped out to stand next to you, "Let us help you, Wooyoung."

Hope emerged when the people in the room saw Wooyoung's shoulders drop and his hands reached out to his friend.

As quick as the hopeful moment came, it was oh too quickly snubbed out as chaos broke. Wooyoung's hand pivoted at the last moment and instead of Seonghwa, he grabbed you by the forearms and swung himself sideways, effectively throwing you back against the coffee table, breaking it to pieces. It was so sudden that no one really knew what to do. In the midst of the confusion, Wooyoung took the chance to push past San and Hongjoong, making his exist as quick as he could while leaving a mess behind.

While people rallied around you, worried beyond their minds, you caught a glimpse of the fear in Wooyoung's eyes as he gave one last regretful look before he disappeared behind the door. It was then did you allow the regret to sink in as you thought,

I should have let the bitch rot in jail.

network :

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quillandink333 · 1 year ago

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The Dove and the Swan Take Flight • pt. 2

Credit to @winterxisxcomingx for the beautiful banner ♡︎

SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL ~ Read ahead at your own risk!

After centuries spent distancing himself from his people and letting affairs of state fall into neglect, Lucifer decides it’s high time to get reacquainted with his would-be fair kingdom and brings Emily along for a grand tour of the Pride Ring.

WARNINGS: Abrahamic imagery (obviously), corporatism, body dysphoria, I wouldn’t exactly condone telling shady strangers where you’ll be going in the near future

Part I • Part II • Part III

“I’ve been thinking…” Emily broke the silence. She and her host had been enjoying their breakfast so thoroughly that they hadn’t noticed when the conversation had dwindled to a halt.

Lucifer had a mouth full of sugary carbs and fresh fruit as he answered, “Hm?”

“We’re going to Sinsoplex today, right?”

“We are indeed!” he proclaimed. “I wanted to give you a taste of what mainstream city life is like down here. That, plus our excursion to Cannibal Town made me realise we stick out like a sore thumb in public.” He tilted his head with an awkward glance toward his hat and coat, which were draped over the unoccupied chair beside him, and she giggled. “That’s why we’re hitting the boutiques first and foremost, as clearly I don’t have the first clue about today’s trends and the like.”

“That’s perfect!” Her eyes lit up with excitement, making his heart flutter. “Because I’ve been thinking, I know I just got my hair cut at the barber’s, and I love it! But the thing is, now that’s made me wanna change it even more,” she confessed, as if simply wishing to alter her appearance was a sin.

“I see no reason why we couldn’t do that on the same trip,” he offered right off the bat without question. “There’s bound to be a few sinners in the beauty industry who could help us on both fronts.”

“Well, yeah, but do you really think we’ll find someone willing to do all that for us on such short notice?”

“Naturally. I’m Lucifer Goddamn Morningstar; who could possibly refuse?” he chuckled. Being the supreme ruler of Hell had all the perks one would expect, which he could surely stand to take advantage of more often, he pondered. Emily, however, was of the mind to disagree, but she didn’t dare correct him when he’d been showing her such endless generosity ever since her fall. As long as he paid their stylist what they demanded in return for their services—which he obviously had the means to—she supposed it didn’t matter.

Word Count: 2.7k

“Right, let me just get this straight.” The youngest of the so-called Vees was hardly giving them half of her attention as she played around giving herself different flashy manicures with a flick of her wrist. “So the pair of you just poof into my studio out of nowhere, then order me personally to give you each the full Transformakeover service right this fucking second with no appointment?”

Emily felt a stab of shame at the sarcastic accusation, causing her to shrink back into Lucifer’s side. Before she could say anything, though, he waved his cane and conjured a pile of cash taller than a fridge between them and the overlord. “I take it that should work for you.”

Velvette’s eyebrows shot up toward the top of the stack. “Yeah, no, tha-that’ll do.”

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked.

The first order of business, as apparently per their stylist’s standard practice, was hair. She took Emily aside and sat her down in front of an oversized mirror in a frame of uncomfortably bright LEDs, then had a stylist on standby sit the king in the chair next to hers. “I’ve gotta say, darling, you’re in desperate need of some layers,” she noted, running a comb through the lilac tresses. “A new colour wouldn’t hurt neither. Any requests?”

“Uhh…” Out of habit, she cast a lost glance over at Lucifer. It took him a couple of seconds to notice, but when he did, she whisper-yelled to him, “What colour should I get my hair dyed?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you asking me for? It’s your hair, sunshine,” he smiled tightly. “I shouldn’t need to tell you by now that I think any colour would look great on you.”

“Oh. Okay…” Her gaze meandered back to her reflection. She’d never had her hair dyed before, and she’d never had much of a say when it came to styles either. Velvette was getting restless as she waited for an answer, which had Emily chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Here, how ’bout something like this?” Lucifer stood up to show her a picture on his phone. “That Angel Dust fellow sent it to me the other day saying he thought it would suit you. Now, why he didn’t just send it to you directly, I have no clue.” The image showed a sinner from behind. They had shoulder-length hair with feathery layers and a balayage going from dark roots to a warm vanilla blonde at the crown, then into a blinding platinum for the better part of the length. Emily’s brows rose and her lips formed a lowercase ��o,’ telling him she at least wasn’t averse to the sight of it.

Velvette scoffed. “Are you joking? That’s, like—” Her words caught in her throat when she spotted Morningstar shooting a glowing red glare her way through the mirror. “I mean—y-yeah, if that’s what you want. Seems easy enough.”

She promptly got up, wasting no time walking Emily over to one of the sinks for a wash. The little angel floated along without a care in the world while the other two trailed behind. Having heard that it would be ‘easy enough,’ she was surprised to find out the dyeing process was a lot more complicated than she was imagining. Lucifer was already in the middle of getting his blow-dried by the time she got back from her rinse.

“Good god, where’d you get this cut, Cannibal Town?” cringed Velvette as she got started on the trimming process.

“Yeah, actually!” Emily was anything but oblivious to the disgust in her tone, but she’d already decided to ignore it. “Lucifer’s taking me on a tour around Pentagram City, and that was the first place we visited. Today it’s the commercial district!”

“You don’t say?”

“Mhm! I went to get my hair done at the barber shop, and they had a singing quartet in the shop! It was so cool!”

“So where you off to next, then?”

“Uhm…” The abrupt change of subject caught her a little off guard. “Well, I forget what her name was, but she’s an overlord like you, and I feel like her first and last initials were the same. We’re going to visit her. Either that or we’re visiting someone named…oh, fudge. Did it start with a ‘Z?’ I think it started with a ‘Z…’ Sorry, I can’t remember. It was one of the two—or both, maybe. I dunno.”

“Was it Zestial Morde and Carmilla Carmine, perhaps?”

“Yes, that’s it! Oh my gosh, thank you. That was driving me crazy!” she giggled at herself. “So does that mean you know them?”

Not much time had passed before they were interrupted by Lucifer’s hairdresser, spinning him around in his chair to show her work to her boss.

Lucifer himself was looking none too pleased. His forelocks messy and unkempt, the devil was now sporting something called an undercut. The roguish diva had tried to have it dyed—he’d vehemently put his foot down at the very first mention of the idea. But even though he didn’t care much for the end result himself, when he saw Emily clapping for him and flashing him a double thumbs-up with an open-mouthed smile, he couldn’t help but smile back.

“She’ll be done in a minute,” Velvette dismissed him after reluctantly approving the work of her tired-looking employee.

Once the trimming and styling steps had been wrapped up, she sprung up from her seat and made a beeline toward the waiting area where he was sat. “So? How do I look?”

“Lovely!” he grinned from ear to ear. “Wow, uh… This might sound a bit strange, but you look just like Charlie. It’s like you two could be sisters,” he chortled.

“Really?! Haha! I wonder if she’ll think the same when she sees it.”

With their hair done, it was onto the retail stage of the trademarked Transformakovers.

“So what kind of look are you thinking for me?” asked Emily as they were led into the overlord’s walk-in closet, which was really more of a gallery. “Woah…!”

Her eyes popped and her mouth hung open as she ogled her surroundings. There were garments of all different colours and materials and personalities she couldn’t even label, the racks on every wall going all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. She’d had no idea how vast the world of fashion really was until she’d stepped inside.

“Velvette, this is amazing!” she squealed, forgetting that she was supposed to be hiding her wings as she darted from rack to rack. Lucifer smiled quietly at her unabashed excitement. “Did you design all of these? Ahh, look at those shoes! And that top! Oh my gosh, how do you ever decide what to wear?!”

Velvette’s curt body language contradicted how flattered she actually was. “It’s not hard, really. I mean, I wouldn’t touch half the shit in here, but that’s just me.”

“What?! Really?” She fluttered back down to the floor, shocked and a little crestfallen. “You mean you don’t like this stuff?”

“No, it-it’s—well, yeah, most of it’s…fine, I guess.” This reaction had Emily crossing her arms at the emotions she was detecting now: mainly flattery, but also a hint of vulnerability and… Was that guilt? Before she could figure it out, it vanished, both from her senses and her memory. With a snap of her fingers, Velvette summoned a rack on wheels full of clothes and accessories ranging from ostentatious to understated beside her. “Here’s what I’m thinking for you two.”

Emily wasted no time getting a closer look, the hooks of the hangers screeching against the metal rod as she flipped through them. Upon observation, the rack seemed to be divided in half, each side containing the makings of a whole outfit plus a few alternate options for certain parts.

“I’m guessing that’s her side and this is mine?” Lucifer inferred as he side-eyed the white tennies on his end with reflective toes and ludicrously chunky tread.

“Ooh…” Emily grimaced as she took a strikingly short mini skirt off the rack and held it up to her hips. It was covered in a loud print of candies and desserts atop a sweet pastel pink. “Oh gosh, it’s even shorter than I thought,” she laughed crookedly.

“Absolutely not!” Her chaperone, livid, snatched it out of her hands practically in the middle of her sentence. He shot daggers at the diva, which seemed to bounce right off of her.

“Oy, calm your tits, Your Holiness,” she jeered, “I’ve got it covered.” Then she reached between them for Emily’s half of the rack and removed from it a pair of fuzzy, black, thigh-high leg warmers. To Lucifer’s dismay, the model looked pleased as punch when she saw them, leaving him no choice but to give her his begrudging approval.

Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw Velvette positioning her fingers for a snap. He raised his cane and froze them with his own magic just in time.

“Nope! No, nuh-uh,” he chuckled despite the severe crease festering between his brows. “We can get changed by ourselves, thank you. If you’ll just point us in the direction of your changing stalls.”

Though she just had to give him attitude in the form of a bratty shrug, she complied. Lucifer was the first to emerge from his stall, and Emily appeared a short while later, the two of them decked from head to toe in their shiny new drip.

“Tada~!” She gave a dainty little twirl. “What do you think?”

He and Velvette looked her up and down as she greedily soaked up their attention. She had on the skirt and leg warmers from before, and under the latter were a pair of black platforms with reflective toes that matched those on Lucifer’s shoes. For the upper half, she wore a sunny yellow crop top under a white zip-up hoodie. Her hair was tied back in a mid-low ponytail, and her collarbone was adorned with a colourful pastel necklace with beads of all different shapes and sizes, which looked almost edible.

When she asked for his thoughts, Lucifer had all sorts of adjectives going through his head, but none which he dared say out loud while they weren’t alone. He cleared his throat. “Well…” Maybe her special empathicism would be enough to let her know he didn’t entirely dislike it.

Meanwhile there he was, his own outfit perfectly on theme with hers, and yet he felt like an absolute buffoon wearing it. From the top down, he had on a plain white tee with an alarmingly deep V-neck, which was tucked into a pair of bulky, high-waisted, greyish magenta cargo pants. Overtop of that was a black baseball jacket with glaring yellow trim and a meaningless monogram.

“You’ll want a mask, too,” Velvette added, making the accessory appear directly over his nose and mouth with a snap. “To cover up those little red spots on your cheeks.”

He caught Emily cracking an amused grin, causing his ears to fume with the heat of rushing blood. Pulling the mask down to his chin, he huffed, “Not sure I’d be super comfortable going out in public dressed like this.” He didn’t bother trying to hide his scowl, peering down his neckline at his pale self. “Don’t you have anything a bit more, erm…normal?”

“Nah.” Velvette stood firm in her selection. “You told me disguises—what’s the point of a disguise if it doesn’t make you look like someone you’re not?”

He grumbled, “Right you are.”

“Hey, at least we match!” Emily chirped and grabbed both his hands with a bounce in her posture. “That’s a pro, isn’t it?”

He couldn’t help letting out a nasal chuckle at her enthusiastic attempt to find a silver lining for him. “That’s true, I suppose.”

She checked her phone and noticed it was only a few minutes past midday. They still had a whole afternoon of fun ahead of them! “Oh, we should probably get going,” she said, to which Lucifer nodded in stoic agreement. “Thanks so much for everything, Velvette, this has been so much fun!” she beamed. “I’m so glad I got to meet you!” Velvette replied with a charismatic grin and nothing more. As she showed them the exit, one turned and waved goodbye while the other offered half a smile over his shoulder before the door closed behind them.

Velvette waited until both their backs were turned, then dropped her hand and pulled out her phone. The screen buzzed with static and the speaker crackled before the face of the one receiving her call appeared. “Yeah? What?”

She grinned. “Vox, you are never gonna believe who just showed up at the studio.”

The two fallen seraphim were making their way on foot to their next destination of the day: some sort of music festival supposedly happening on the roof of the massive skyscraper nextdoor. The younger of the two was bursting at the seams with excitement, but the older had only agreed to it because Charlie had vouched for its security.

“You know, it honestly does suit you,” blurted Emily.

Lucifer scoffed and gave her a raise of his brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously! Believe me, I may be the angel of joy, but I’d never say something I didn’t mean just to make someone feel better.”

This earned her a hearty laugh as they strolled across the skybridge connecting the two halves of the sprawling complex. “Well, thanks, but even if you think it looks okay, I still can’t say I see the appeal.”

“Ah, well… That’s okay.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “It’s just for today. When we get home, I can start sketching out some ideas for a new outfit you’ll definitely like.”

He almost stopped in his tracks when he heard that. “Wait, you’re gonna make me a brand new, Emily-original outfit?” he gawked. “From scratch?”

“Absolutely! Seeing that walk-in closet gave me an inspiration overload. I can’t wait to get started! In fact—I don’t think I will.” Concentrating all her attention, she held out her free hand and expertly manifested a fresh drawing pad along with a pencil wrapped in hot pink.

“Oh, nicely done!” applauded her doting guardian. “Looks like my lessons have been paying off, huh?” But when he looked over again, she was already deeply engrossed in her sketching, the pad of paper fixed in mid air a foot or so away from her while they walked. He tightened his hold on her hand and turned his gaze straight ahead, his fond smile hidden beneath the black face mask.

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