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katyswrites · 6 months

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put on your records (and regret me)

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol use, recreational weed use, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n, not quite smut but we're getting close folks

Wordcount: 4.3k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 3

You don’t see Steve for nearly a week after that - you hang around the radio station quite a bit, as you usually do, but never manage to run into him. You should be thankful for that - for how peaceful it is. It’s not even like you want to see him - no, why would you? He’s a pain in your ass, and you should be thankful that you can do your job in peace.

No, it’s not actually at the station that you see him next - though, it’s tangentially related. You’re at perhaps your second-favorite place in the world - Varsity Vinyl, the local record shop downtown. It has some of the best selection you’d seen, and you always find yourself there - buying for your own growing record collection, or rooting through the used and discounted bin to help stock the station’s vinyl library. It’s where you find yourself on a Saturday afternoon, flipping through records while figuring how much money you actually realistically are able to spend.

You don’t see him, not at first. He’s standing further down the aisle, and when you finally look up and spot him, you nearly jump - he’s just staring at you, eyes wide. You straighten up, just holding eye contact - you feel like two wild animals sizing each other up, deciding whether to run or fight. You’re truly deciding between those two options when he clears his throat.

“Oh - uh, hey,” he says, quieter than you had expected.

“Hey.”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, a beat of silence passing between you. Then, you both find yourselves speaking at once:

“Your party was fun the other night -”

“Are you okay -”

You both pause, and you awkwardly laugh.

“Sorry, uh - the party was fun last weekend. Thanks,” you say quietly.

Steve shrugs.

“Oh, yeah - glad you came. You… you seemed like you were having a good time.”

Like I made an absolute fool of yourself, more like, you think to yourself.

“Oh! I mean - I guess. Sorry if I got a little - uh -”

“It’s fine, don’t worry - we’ve had worse,” Steve assures.

He hasn’t said anything about bringing you home. Part of you is convinced that Eddie was misinformed, and Steve didn’t actually bring you home that night - that is, if it wasn’t for that stupid note. The note you probably should have thrown out, but stuck into a desk drawer instead - to refer to later, just to make sure you weren’t crazy, you had reasoned.

But now, Steve is standing in front of you, more quiet and withdrawn than you’ve ever seen in the past four years of knowing him.

“So, uh - thanks,” you say quickly, almost mumbling.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“For, um, getting me home safe - I don’t really remember it, but -”

He waves you off. “Oh, that - don’t worry about it. The hardest part was getting you to tell me your address,” he says, laughing. “You were wasted.”

You groan. “That’s…embarrassing.”

He smirks. “Honestly, yeah, a little bit. But most people were gone by then, so… your secret’s safe with me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean - I’m surprised you didn’t tell everybody - how I was, you know, throwing up all over your apartment, being a drunk idiot -”

Why didn’t he? It’s leverage - a way to make people lose respect for you, and gain more for him. A part of this stupid, pointless power battle you two seem to always be involved in, seeing how far you can push one another. His response is unexpected.

“You don’t actually think that little of me, do you?”

You don’t really know how to answer that.

He scoffs. “Look, it’s not my fault that you can’t hold your alcohol for shit. But, I’m not going to go around telling everyone that, okay? Christ -”

He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome, though.”

You suddenly feel like a bit of an asshole - Steve is used to you throwing insults his way, but this time, it seems to have struck a chord with him.

“I was in a really bad way, wasn’t I?” you ask quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He nods. “Honestly? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. You really don’t remember?”

You shake your head, face feeling flushed with embarrassment. He just sighs.

“What do you remember?”

You rack your brain for a moment, biting your lip absentmindedly as you think.

“Um - I remember playing Kings with everyone… and, uh…”

I remember you coming in from the porch with what’s-her-face on your arm -

“-and it gets fuzzy after that,” you say quickly.

“Oh, okay - wow, that’s pretty early on. Well, you did some shots with Eddie and Robin - you got on the kitchen table at one point ... I think you threw up over my balcony… and after that I, uh, hung out with you in the bathroom while you threw up some more, and brought you home.”

You freeze. “Wait - you babysat me, like, the whole time? I thought that was Eddie -”

“No way, Eddie was too high to help anyone. I was stone-cold sober by that point, thanks to you.”

“Oh,” you say, wishing you could sink into the floor. Steve fucking Harrington knew what you looked like keeled over a toilet and puking your guts out… dammit.

“It was pretty gnarly, but… it’s fine. Really, it’s okay.”

For maybe the first time in his life, it sounds like Steve is being sincere with you. Another beat of silence passes, then he’s clearing his throat again.

“So… you have any big plans tonight? A repeat of last weekend, maybe?” he asks casually. You furrow your brow, confused.

“Um - do you actually care?”

He shrugs. “So what if I do?”

“Well - no, after last weekend I’m not sure if I ever want to drink again -”

“The most famous lie ever told,” he cuts in, grinning. You just roll your eyes, and pretend to be interested in perusing the records as you return to flipping through the crates.

“-but it just so happens that I do have plans tonight,” you say quietly.

“Hot date?”

You scoff. “I’m going to Fuze Box. Nancy’s covering some bands for an article for the campus paper, and I figured I’d check out who's playing tonight.”

WAMC has a long-standing relationship with Fuze Box, a small music venue for local artists and college bands. A lot of students and station members play there, and shows at the Box get advertised a lot on the air. You try to go to local gigs as much as you can - though, you haven’t made as much of an effort lately, too overwhelmed by other responsibilities as station manager. Nancy’s article is a good excuse to go, for the first time all semester.

“So, you don’t know any of the bands playing tonight?” he asks, leaning against a shelf and crossing his arms.

You shake your head. “Nope - just figured I’d check it out, go in blind. Maybe I’ll even put some of the bands in my radio slot next week, if they’re selling CDs or something.”

Steve grins mischievously.

“Right - well, have fun, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, and know that any semblance of an awkward peace between you two is gone - the Steve you know and love (to hate) is back. You turn to make a clever retort, but he’s gone, having stalked off to a different aisle.

You’re not sure what he’s up to, but part of you now has a sneaking suspicion that he might show up at the venue tonight just to piss you off - it’s such a Steve move.

As you go to the checkout, you do your best to shake it - after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

*****

“Thank you - we’ve been Lime of Decision - goodnight!” the lead singer shouts, a collection of hollers and applause following. The lights go up a bit, some venue staff coming out to the stage to adjust the equipment for the next band.

“Lime Of Decision is… a choice,” Nancy says, scribbling something into her notebook.

“Yeah, that’s because their name is literally meant to be a joke,” you say absentmindedly.

“What?”

“Jason, the lead singer? His ex-girlfriend is in a band called Lemon Of Choice, so it’s like…funny. I think.”

Nancy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Which band is better?”

“Definitely hers,” you say immediately.

You and Nancy both stare at each other for a moment, and break into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to get another drink, you want anything?” she asks.

You shake your head, holding up the cup of beer you’re still nursing from the beginning of the last band’s set.

She disappears into the crowd, and you sigh, taking a drink as you once again survey the room. If Steve actually is here, you haven’t spotted him yet - maybe he decided that getting on your nerves wasn’t worth actually paying the cover at the door. Or, maybe he actually had more important plans - maybe even with that girl he was all cozy with at the party -

You stop yourself - why do you care? If anything, it should be a good thing that he doesn’t seem to be here.

There’s two more bands left to go - you had glanced at the flier on the way in, but only recognized Lime Of Decision in the lineup. So, when Nancy returns with a new drink and the lights begin to dim again, you just hope the next band is better - it can really be hit or miss at these sorts of shows.

Darius, the radio station’s tech engineer, is emceeing the show. He steps out on stage to introduce the next band, earning a smattering of cheers and hollers thrown in his direction.

“Alright, alright everyone! Settle down - that includes you, Hagan - Jesus Christ, okay - can we give it up for the amazing bands we’ve heard so far tonight?”

You clap along with the rest of the crowd, rolling our eyes at the sound of particularly rowdy hollers from the back that you just know comes from Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin.

Darius’ eyes narrow.

“Dammit, Munson - when I said a month-long ban, I meant it -”

You glance back to see Eddie flipping Darius off - famously, Corroded Coffin got a temporary suspension from Fuze Box for smoking weed in the green room. But, the ban actually being enforced… not likely.

Darius rolls his eyes, struggling to get the room back on track as he taps the microphone.

“Okay, okay - everyone, can we please - if you all can shut the fuck up - okay, whatever. The next band up tonight - you guys know and love. They’re a Fuze Box favorite - and no, they are not promising anything with the name. Give it up for Free Beer!

You can’t help but laugh at the band’s name - you instinctively turn to Nancy, who is doing her best to stifle a giggle as she writes something on her notepad, squinting in the dark.

It’s during those few seconds while you’re looking away that the band takes the stage - which is why, when you glance back, you freeze as you see who’s standing front-and-center.

Steve stands at the mic stand, an electric guitar slung over his shoulders as he smiles at the crowd.

You freeze. Other band members - including Robin and Argyle, who you know all too well from the radio station - come out onto the stage behind him. But you’re just staring at Steve, dumbfounded.

You knew he had a band - scheduling them to perform on the air was always a nightmare for you, which you knew Steve did on purpose. So, you had never learned anything about them on-principle. You hadn’t heard a lick of music, didn’t know who else was in it, or even the goddamn name - until right now.

Nancy’s eyes are on you, you can feel it. You turn briefly to look at her.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks, glancing at where Steve stands on stage. You shake your head.

“God, no! I - I’m an adult, I can be in the same room as Harrington,” you say, laughing nervously. You’re not sure how much you believe yourself. She stares at you for a moment, then just nods, turning her attention back to the stage, where Steve is stepping up to the mic.

“Hey guys - we’re Free Beer. I’m Steve -”

A few feminine voices cheer from the back. Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head that you’re worried you’ll go blind.

“Thanks, ladies, love the enthusiasm. So - let’s just get into it. Ready to hear some songs?”

There’s an eruption of cheers through the audience - one of the biggest reactions of the night so far.

“Alright - this one is called ‘Closer,’ I hope you enjoy.”

From the moment he plays the first chord, something shifts in the room. The crowd becomes less rowdy, less chatty. No - everyone is really listening. Some are even singing along - how the fuck do this many people know the words?

You want to hate it - you want the set to be something you’re tolerating, something that makes you look forward to the next band coming out. But, despite your efforts, that’s not what happens. Because the band is good. Robin is killer on bass, and Argyle is a formidable drummer, despite his perpetually laid-back persona. And Steve - it’s like he was born to do this.

Aside from having a pretty good voice, and being an excellent guitarist, he’s actually a good frontman. He’s charismatic, knows how to work the crowd, and somehow, he makes the tiny stage of the Fuze Box feel as exciting as Live Aid.

You want to scream - of course he’s good. You catch yourself moving along to the music every now and then, and immediately stop yourself, hoping nobody sees. At one point, you swear Steve sees you. His eyes land on yours - or, at least, in your direction. You think you imagine it - it’s a big enough crowd, and you’re far enough back that he probably can’t see past the first few rows. That is, until he smirks, in the way that you know he reserves only to taunt you, to challenge you.

Fuck.

*****

You find yourself heading down the hallway after Steve’s set - you’re looking for the bathroom, shouldering through the bodies packed into the narrow passage. Part of it is because your beer has finally gone through you, and more so because you need a minute of peace and quiet, just to stare at yourself in the mirror and talk some sense into yourself. Steve’s band can’t be good - that would be a problem. If you didn’t know who was part of it, they’re the kind of band you would buy records for, keep a spare CD in your car, and even include as part of your radio show. But…it's Steve.

You had purposely never gone to any of his shows - you never listened to any in-studio sessions they did at the station, and God knows you would never ask Steve about his music. What the fuck?

Part of you also wants to smack him - of course he was performing here tonight - he looked you in the eye at the record store today, heard you were coming here tonight, and said nothing. Next time you see him, you decide, you’ll ignore him - you won’t even acknowledge that you saw him perform. If he asks, you’ll tell him you left the show early, long before he came on stage. You won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you sat through his whole set, let alone enjoyed it.

You can’t exactly remember where the bathroom is - was it all the way at the end of the hallway? None of the doors are really labeled, which tracks for Fuze Box.

You knock on a few doors and jiggle the handles - one is an electrical closet, the other is locked and seemingly empty. You finally reach a door at the end, and give it a gentle knock - nobody responds. You try the knob, and it gives way. After shouldering your way inside, you wish you hadn’t.

Apparently, instead of the bathroom, you’ve managed to find the green room - although, to call the backstage area of the Fuze Box a green room is generous. It’s really a tiny room with a worn out couch, a cracked glass coffee table littered with ashtrays, and lighting so dim that you have to squint to figure out exactly where you are as you slip through the door.

It’s only once you’re inside, when it’s too late, that you realize you’ve walked in on Steve.

His back is turned to you, but he jumps slightly and turns when he hears the door open. He’s wiping his brow with a towel, and he grins when he sees you.

“Hey, sweetheart - wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”

You stand in the doorway awkwardly - why couldn’t the rest of his band be hanging out here with him? That way, you could throw out a blanket ‘you guys were great’ statement. But now it’s just him, staring at you, his face saying why the fuck are you here?

“Oh - sorry - I’m in the wrong room,” you say quickly, your face feeling hot as you start to back away.

“Okay - sure you are,” Steve says sarcastically.

“What does that mean?” you ask, stopping your retreat.

He shrugs. “Don’t know - you just seem to always conveniently stumble into me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Try to stop me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you just groan with frustration, taking a few steps towards him.

“Jesus, I - I don’t know if it’s like, a weird sick game to you, or you’re just always trying to piss me off - or if you just can’t help and flirt with everyone -”

“You think I’m flirting with you?” he asks, grinning mischievously.

You stop, folding your arms in indignation.

“No - I mean, kind of, but probably as a joke - I know what you’re up to, Harrington.”

“And what exactly am I up to?”

“This bullshit you keep pulling,” you say, gesturing between you two. “This - like, always sabotaging my shit, and getting in my way - but then like, this stupid nice-guy thing, where you drive me home when I’m drunk and don’t tell anyone, but then like you trick me into watching your stupid band perform -”

He scoffs. “Trick you? Be serious -”

“You knew I’d be here tonight - you knew, and didn’t say anything -”

“Well given your track record, sweetheart, if you had known I’d be playing, I’m sure you would’ve been front row!”

You stop mid-sentence, mouth hanging open as you try to search inwardly for a reply. Your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He’s smirking now, just like he did on stage. As always, he’s too confident, too sarcastic, too Steve. He’s taken away your ability to even come up with a halfway decent retort. It pisses you off.

“I - that’s not -”

Your blood is rushing to your head, roaring in your ears, too enraged to even let you think straight anymore. You’re marching right up to him now, prodding his chest with your finger.

“I don’t like you,” you say.

“You don’t say?” he drawls, still smiling. Why is he smiling?

“Stop doing that -”

“Doing what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Stop distracting me -”

“I distract you?”

You want to kick yourself.

“I - well - only because you’re so -”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“-fucking annoying.”

He cocks his head, like you’ve only mildly piqued his curiosity instead of insulted him.

You sigh. “What?”

“It’s just - you didn’t seem to find me very annoying last weekend when you tried to kiss me.”

A beat. You just stand there, jaw agape as his words hang in the air between you like smoke on a hazy summer’s day.

“That’s not funny,” you manage to say.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him - the next band has started outside, a distant din that should be distracting. But all you can focus on is Steve - the beads of sweat on his forehead, the way you’re close enough to smell that he had just had a cigarette.

“I didn’t -”

“Sweetheart - right before you puked your guts up in my bathroom, you tried to stick your tongue down my throat. Don’t worry - I didn’t let you. I really thought you would’ve remembered, until I saw you in the record store - then I realized you didn’t remember jack shit.”

You feel like you’re making this up. He’s just saying this to get under your skin - he must be. It’s the only explanation. Because you’d never -

“You’re lying.”

But he’s just staring at you, and you’re starting to get the sickening suspicion that this isn’t a joke.

“You’re lying,” you repeat, though it sounds more like a question this time.

He’s taking another step towards you, shaking his head.

“You know what they say, sweetheart - in vino vesco, or whatever. You know - how people say and do what they’re really thinking when they’re drunk -”

“Veritas.”

He stops, furrowing his brow.

“I - what?”

You can’t help yourself - you just can’t.

“The phrase is in vino veritas - it means truth. I think vesco means food or something, you’re missing the whole -”

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re always such a -”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you’re kissing him. You don’t mean to do it, you swear - but he had gotten so close, the heat radiating off of him too much to ignore. And, he was really pissing you off - you didn’t need to hear another word out of his mouth.

You fist your hands in his t-shirt, your lips on his, messy and desperate, like you’re trying to prove a point. And he’s kissing you back.

Steve kisses the same way he argues - he’s aggressive, his hands coming up to grab your face and pull you closer. He tastes like cigarettes and cheap beer, his aura hot and desperate as it envelops you.

The band plays out in the venue, the audience cheering and singing along - but, all you can hear is Steve’s labored breath against your lips, your own heart thudding in your chest.

The kiss was all teeth and tongue, another argument you were both desperate to win. But, right now, you’re losing. Because he’s guiding your body, and you’re responding, stepping backwards until your back is hitting the cinderblock wall.

No words are spoken, just breathy moans and the sounds of your lips moving in unison. It’s not remotely romantic - it feels more like fuck you, I’m trying so hard to hate you, why can’t you let me -

One of his hands has traveled down to your waist, gripping it firmly enough to tell you that he wanted more. You feel his hand start to move, slipping under the hem of your shirt and gently brushing the warm skin of your lower back. His hands are calloused, rough against the softness of your skin. You let him start to explore, unable to stop yourself from quietly moaning against his lips.

You know you should stop - but you can’t. It’s addicting, the way he’s still fighting with you as his tongue enters your mouth. Is this really happening? Maybe this could’ve gone on for hours. That is, until -

The knock on the door makes you both jump, pulling apart as quickly as you had crashed together. Steve is staring at you, breathing heavily, his pupils blown and lips a bit swollen. You imagine you look similarly. He takes a step back, separately himself from where you’re still frozen against the wall.

“Yeah?” Steve calls, voice rougher than before.

“Are you decent?” a voice asks from the other side of the door, barely audible over the sound of the band currently on stage.

Steve looks like he’s fighting laughter, but he just shakes his head, back facing the doorway.

“Nope - you’re good,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again.

He doesn’t need to say it - the look he’s shooting your way is enough.

Not a word.

Robin enters, grinning.

“Hey, we were just going to - oh, hi.”

She’s spotted you, and you just know she has questions.

“Hey, Robin,” you say quietly. “I, uh - I was looking for the bathroom. Ended up in here - I was just telling Steve how much I liked your set.”

Robin beams. “Thanks! It’s fun to see that you came out - haven’t seen you at a gig in a while!”

You nod. “Oh, yeah - I’ve been trying to get myself out there more -”

Steve scoffs, and you want to slap him. If Robin notices, she doesn’t say anything.

“- but, um - I should go.”

Robin nods.

“Yeah - I was just coming to find Steve, we’re all going to head to WT’s for a drink - uh, do you want to come?”

She’s probably just being polite. But, you shake your head vigorously.

“No, I’m good - sounds like it’s a band thing. I should get going anyway - I’ll catch the end of this set,” you say, gesturing towards the sound of the band on stage echoing from down the hall. You still haven’t made eye contact with Steve, not since Robin entered the room. So, you just give her a curt nod, and do everything in your power to head out the door without looking like you’re bolting. You’re screwed.

author's note: thanks for your patience y'all! I'm going away to Ireland on a work trip for about 3 weeks starting tomorrow, so I'm hoping to do some writing while I'm there, but no promises! As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

305 notes · View notes

lovepookie · 9 months

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₊˚ෆ Favoring Roses Over Daisies - s.qr

♡ ︎sypnosis: daisies will forever and always be boring; they were the former queen’s—your mother’s—favorite flower. however, now that it’s your turn to ascend the thrown, you can’t help that roses are your favorite; just like the blood-red ones embellished on prince ricky’s black suit on the night of your suitor’s ball. but don’t get caught up in the pretty scent and petals, because where there is beauty, there is thorns. ricky is the prince of an enemy nation—and your whole life he has been nothing but a pest. a really pretty one.

♡ ︎genre: royal au, fantasy/magical, fluff, angsty, prince!ricky, fem!reader, prince!hanbin side pairing, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, the dramaaa

♡ 7.0k word count (i’m not sorry)

♡ ︎warnings: cursing, mentions of readers father passing away, misogyny mentioned, kinda angsty and dramatic, playful threats, please let me know if you’d like me to add any!

♡ ︎nano note: i know this is long asf, but i am not even the slightest bit sorry. been thinking about prince ricky for the longest and i just had to quench my forbidden love needs. feedback and fangirling in the replies w/ me is greatly appreciated! xoxo

.♡.

“Look at you…so beautiful.” Your mother said, standing behind you as you sat on your bench in front of your vanity. She placed a lavish gold crown on your head carefully, using pins to secure its place.

You manage to shoot her a faint smile.

Your older sister had dropped off the face of the earth when you were teens, and now that you’re becoming of age, you were the only heir able to be crowned.

It felt bittersweet.

Never once in your life did you ever want the title. You grew up thinking it was always out of touch because of your place as second to the thrown. And you were fine with that. You grew with the mindset that it was never yours to begin with and let your sister take reign.

You’d sigh in relief when she would be pulled away from your play dates for classes on her duties as a future leader.

It was a so bittersweet.

When she left.

Still, you stared at yourself in the mirror with a bit of poise.

This was your moment and you took it on with a great sense of responsibility; wanting nothing more than to be the best leader to your people. You had many plans now that you had been crowned, but nothing could prepare you for today.

Descending from your mother; you were shockingly only the second queen to be crowned as of a couple days ago. The ceremony came and went so fast with everyone making a big deal out of it. This catapulted misogynistic hate back into the thoughts and mouths of other nations who were still coming around to the idea of women in power.

On the night of your 21st birthday, you were notified that your mother would be stepping down as Queen. Your father had passed away a few months ago and because of this, your nation was now unable to continue to keep peace between the neighboring nation your father was great friends with.

This nation was Sector Four and they never really liked your sector, Sector Nine, for how they ruled. Your father, who was from Sector Three, was just miraculously married to your mother and was the sole driving factor to both nations recoiling from the long history of wars and bickering.

As your mother described it, she was just excited to meet boys on the night she was to find a suitor. She did not realize when she met your fathers eyes that they belonged to none other than a friend of the enemy.

He was a godsend to your nation and the very reason your mother says she was able to face such widespread disrespect that was thrown at her for being the first Queen.

But this didn’t matter anymore. That peace and sense of tranquillity vanished the moment your father’s breath did.

Now that your father is gone, the hunger for power and the ratification of misogyny was trickling back—you were nothing to them; so long as you were your mothers child.

Regardless, life went on and the fact of the matter was that you were now Queen of a nation too and therefore had to meet a suitor.

Today would be that fateful day.

Yes, you heard that right.

Only a few days as leader and every nation in question were lining up for a piece of the power.

It was laughable.

Still, you gathered your thoughts and made yourself knowledgeable of what had to happen. Unlike your mother, you’d be prepared—this wasn’t some joyous event created for you to find a man, this was so much more than that.

“Alright, your tiara is secure.” Your mother said, meeting eyes with you in the mirror as she smoothed down the sleeves of your dress.

You let another soft smile grace your face as you started to stand.

“Thank you, Mother.” You say, albeit a bit shaky.

You didn’t want to be nervous, but the time ticking by was starting to get to you. It was already evening, the ball that your mother put in place being seconds away from starting.

“Don’t worry. So many people may be waiting for you in there, but they all have an agenda of their own. Try to have fun, okay Daisy?” Your mother said, calling you by the nickname she gave you as a child.

She’d always loved daisies.

They were alright in your opinion.

You’d always prefer roses.

“I know. I’ll be fine.” You say, half trying to convince her, half trying to convince yourself.

“Very well, I better get going now. I’ll meet you out there okay? Remember to smile and have fun, alright?” She says as she walks slowly towards the door.

You nod at her.

“Yes Mother, I’ll try my best.” You say, the words being comforting to you somehow. She smiles and sends a flying kiss your way. You chuckle and catch it, much to her happiness.

Once she’s out of sight, you allow yourself some time to think.

Maybe tonight won’t be too bad. If you don’t find a suitor, so what?

There was no hurry, and you were sure everyone present was definitely not there for love. Everything is always meticulously planned when it comes to royal affairs, and anyone can rule truly.

It was just your lucky turn, so you could play by your own rules.

After talking yourself up and out of your nervousness, you decide it’s go time.

You make your way into the large hallway, it’s festive flowers lining the balcony that oversaw the foyer.

Wow, they really went all out.

Just a few halls down was the dining hall, so not many people were around. As you rounded a column in order to go down the stairs that were around the corner, you were quickly drawn out of your thoughts as you quite literally came face to face with someone else.

It all went so fast, suddenly you were falling backwards, a person falling over you too.

“Oh!” You yelled out.

My dress! This shit was hard to put on!

“Oh my! My apologies miss, I-“ Says a young man as he quickly gathers himself.

You crouch up on your elbows, looking up to meet his eyes.

He looked cute.

His features looked like a dear caught in headlights. You didn’t even know what headlights were, and you weren’t sure how you got that saying. Anyways.

“I- Your Majesty?” He utters out, as he stumbles to his feet. He was endearing.

You just stare.

“Your Majesty I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful.” He states, slightly bowing his head and holding out his hand for you to take.

You do so, placing your hand gracefully in his, the strength of his arm pulling you to your feet.

“It’s alright, I didn’t see you as well.” You say.

He clears his throat as he gets a good look at you for the first time, head slightly bowed still.

“You may be at ease.” You chuckle.

His cheeks go pink, a smile making its way onto his face. The dimples on his cheek bones poked through, his eyes forming into crescents in possible embarrassment.

A guinea pig.

He looked like a cute guinea pig.

“Well then, I take it I’ll see you during the reception?” You say, already endeared by his charms.

He looks back at you in shock and places a hand over his heart before bowing again.

“Oh- of course! It will be a pleasure to see you again Your Majesty.” He gets out, taking another bow.

You chuckle.

“Very well, I hope to find out your name then too.” You say, bowing back and making your way down the stairs.

His bow never falters, and you’re sure when you’re far enough you hear him scold himself.

You laugh to yourself.

He was endearing.

And only for a moment does it distract you from your responsibilities.

Within seconds your smile falters and you regained your poise.

It was time to address your guests.

As you walked into the corridor and greeted a bunch of royal caretakers, you greet the Royal announcer as well, making him aware of your presence so that he can announce your entrance. Once he did, everyone scrambled to make sure you were ready, fixing things unnecessarily to make things perfect.

You just let it happen of course—your nerves were starting to get the best of you anyways.

Within a few seconds, you were announced and the velvety ceiling-length curtains were opened.

You walked into the ballroom and were greeted by bright lights and loud cheers. The lighting blinded you for a second, but you didn’t let that show in your expression.

Once you were able to adjust your eyes to the room, you saw several hundred people. Some were smiling, some were serious.

You saw your mother and teachers, happiness evident in their faces to see you be announced as Queen to everyone in attendance. Then you looked over to the other nations and the suitors who were present for you.

My, oh my.

There were so many.

You let out a quiet nervous sigh as you continued through the people and made your way to your seat for the dinner to commence. Before you could sit, there were a few young men who passed near your area and bowed your way, hoping to get an early introduction in.

You chuckled.

One bowed generously, throwing you a wide gummy smile. He must be way younger than you, you note. Just as you slightly bow in response, you see him make his way closer.

He bows again before speaking, “Your Majesty, might I just say, your portraits do not do you justice.” He says, gummy smile coming back as he towered over your seated frame.

He was tall and built, but nothing could stop you from seeing his boyish nature. You let out a chuckle before replying, “And your name?”

“Gunwook. Prince Park Gunwook from Sector Five.” He says, shooting you another sly smile.

You decide to let your chuckle out a little louder this time.

“Noted, Prince Gunwook.” You smiled.

He bowed once more and walked back to what you assume is his royal friends.

Before you could catch the gazes of anymore cute faces, a plate was placed on the gold charger in front of you and everyone in attendance watched as you lifted your gauntlet of still-too-bitter wine; signaling the start of the dinner.

It was only a few hours of wining and dining under the gaze of many suitors before the most nerve racking part of the night was to commence. The classical music changed its tempo to that of dancing music, people making their way to the ballroom dance floor.

Your nerves were starting to build as the melodies played through the hall.

Looking over to your mother, you saw her gesture for you to join the dance floor despite no one asking for your hand to dance yet.

You sighed anxiously and stood slowly to your feet, your ball gown shifting to follow along. As soon as you do this, you see many figures moving, almost on par with your own movements.

Here we go.

It was obvious that the race to ask you to dance was finally here; and boy you wished your corsets hadn’t been so tightly hoisted around you.

Who even dances right after desert?

Still, you hold your chin up high and walk towards the floor as gracefully and as unfazed as you can. It’s there where you meet eyes with him again.

He smiled, whiskers reappearing. Without thinking, you walk towards him—much to everyone’s surprise. He looks shocked as he quickly aknowledges you with a bow.

“Your majesty-“ He starts.

“Would you like to dance?” You speak, cutting him off.

His shock is only evident for a moment, before he smiles bigger and holds his hand out for you to take. You smile back, already comfortable within his grasp.

Once meeting the dance floor, he turns towards you, grasping your waist and holding your other hand in his. You place your hand on his shoulder, and get a good look at him.

Please don’t be from Sector Four. Please don’t be from Sector Four. Please don’t be from Sector Four.

“Your Majesty, thank you for approaching me first, I really am flattered.” He speaks respectfully as he leads you into the dance.

The many people in the room become nonexistent as you let him guide you.

“No need to thank me, you were the first familiar face I’d seen, so naturally I approached you.” You say, smiling shyly under his gaze.

His intentions seemed so straightforward in the way he looked at you. He had seemed entranced.

Dare you say, taken.

You decided to stare at his royal blue suit, the intensity of his gaze becoming too much.

He chuckles.

“My name is Prince Sung Hanbin, Sector Two. Please call me Hanbin, Your Highness.” He says.

This took you by surprise, so you looked up at him and re-evaluated his face.

Your mother’s best friend had a son named Hanbin, but you’d never gotten the chance to meet either of them since she was a Princess of a far away nation. Suddenly his features matched up with that of the paintings you’d seen of your mother and her closest friends when she was younger.

It all came together so seamlessly.

“Oh, so you’re thee Hanbin…” You say, staring him straight in the eyes.

This garner’s you a laugh.

“With all do respect your majesty, I think you’re the woman of the hour.” He says slyly, passing you a smile.

He was smooth.

A very respectful kind of smooth.

Just as you were going to respond, another voice chimes in.

“Pardon for the interruption, but may I have the next dance Your Majesty?” Says a handsome man, confidence seeping through his demeanor.

Hanbin stops leading you and lets go of your waist. As you turn, you meet his eyes.

Sharp and confident, just like his tone, he came off very striking. He was stunning.

If Hanbin was endearing and Gunwook was adorable, this one was gorgeous.

“If her majesty would like to, of course.” Hanbin says, you notice a little protectiveness hidden in his tone as he looks your way.

You smile up at him, barely able to take your eyes off of the new gentleman in front of you.

You notice how his red hanker-chief and red embellishments stand out compared to the rest of his solid black suit. It was all very eye-catching.

When you look back up at him, you were met with a slight smirk. He smiles down at himself for a second, a boyish look on display for only a moment in time.

This, too, takes you by surprise.

You gather yourself as Hanbin clears his throat. You were probably being watched by so many people right now. You can’t help but take note of the evergrowing tension that was starting to cement amongst you three.

“My apologies,” You say, “I’ll be alright Prince Hanbin. Thank you for your time.” You finish, shooting him a smile of gratitude.

He reciprocates it kindly and bows, then passes your hand to the man in front of you.

You take a moment to look him up and down.

Why couldn’t you? You were the Queen for crying out loud.

As you grasped his hand, his other hand goes for your waist quite smoothly. When you place your hand on his shoulder, you hear a chuckle. Your eyebrows raise at this.

“Why do you laugh?” You ask, and you can’t help that your gaurd goes up.

Maybe it was time to go back to being skillfully observant and professional—because this one made you feel uneasy.

“I’m sorry Your Majesty, I wasn’t expecting your gaze.” He says, pulling you a little closer by the waist and staring down at you as he starts to lead you on the dance floor.

You note the vibrado in his tone this time, your heart doing something weird in the process. You also felt your face getting hot.

Why is it scorching in here?

“Pardon?” You say, trying to not drop into the floor.

He chuckles again as he stares down at you once more, “Nevermind that, Your Majesty. How are you feeling?” He asks.

This takes you by surprise—yet gratitude fills your heart at the fact that he even cared to ask.

“It depends. Which answer would you like to hear? The decent one….” You look up at him, meeting his playfull eyes.

“…or the truth?” You finish.

You see a glint in his eyes right before he spins you around, and when you meet again, his eyes find yours effortlessly.

“Whichever you’re willing to share, but I’d rather hear the truth.” He affirms, his serious and chic look taking reign again. You contemplate answering him altogether.

“Very well. But before I do, what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking….” You stall.

“Apologies, Your Majesty. Prince Ricky.” He states, holding up your hand that was in his grasp and placing a kiss on your knuckles that were covered by your satin gloves.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at his actions, and you have to run what he says back in your mind over and over for you to even process his name.

“…It’s a pleasure to meet you…” You start, staring into his eyes as he continues making eye contact through the gesture.

You didn’t know from whomst he learned to be so smooth from, but you definitely wanted to meet them and say thank you.

He was sly like a feline.

“The pleasures all mine.” He responds and continues to guide you as the music plays.

Finally you decide to give him an answer to his earlier question.

“Truthfully, this is all planned and feels nerve-racking.” You state, deciding to stare at some people around you as you danced, getting a little too worked up by the young man’s continuous gaze.

“I can understand your majesty. Truthfully, are you even serious about finding someone tonight?” He asks a little daringly.

You roll your eyes playfully as he spun you once again, hoping you were moving too fast for others—your mother—to notice.

Ricky was making your graceful facade crumble right from beneath you, and it was something you thought you’d never let happen—let alone at the hands of someone you met a couple minutes ago.

“Truthfully?” You start, and he nods in response.

“Truthfully, yes. I need to do this for my nation.” You say, the conversation turning a bit more serious, your smile faltering.

You were starting to remember your responsibilities.

Right.

You had so much to uphold.

Ricky notices this—the change in mood.

He sighs and looks around as well, contemplating his response before he speaks.

“I can understand the heavy weight you must be carrying on your shoulders Your Majesty….” He mumbles.

Then he leans in, pulling you close so he can whisper in your ear.

“…but for now can we just be people?” He asks.

You feel your heart sink.

When he pulls away, you are met with a genuine look on his face. He smiles and looks down, a piece of his wavy blonde hair falling into his eyes. You go to move it out of his face, but just as you do, someone interrupts.

“May I have the next dance your majesty? Apologies for the disturbance-“ Someone starts, but before they can finish, a man who looks strikingly similar to Ricky steps up.

“Prince Quanrui, your mother is waiting.” He speaks, gaining Ricky’s attention.

Prince Quanrui?

You feel like the world starts spinning.

Prince Quanri.

No.

No…

NO!

“-Your Majesty!!” Your bestfriend and head-maid, Juni, exclaims, pulling you from out of your slumber, forcing you to sit up in your bed.

“Huh?!” You shoot up, chest heaving as you try to take in the feelings left behind from the dream you had just lived through.

“You wench, I’ve been yelling at you! You were starting to scare me!” Juni says, sending you a side eye as she gets up in an attempt to act irritated

All you can do is sigh in relief.

The people in your dreams resembled the same people in real life, but everything felt wrong.

Quanrui, or Ricky, had been the Prince of the neighboring nation that despises your mother, that much was true—but he was nothing like the boy you’d just interacted with in your dream just now.

From the moment you had met him as a child, he was insufferable. He’d always made fun of you and you always found yourself in constant arguments with him.

Tonight would be your suitor’s ball, but you were hoping it would go nothing like your dreams. You couldn’t even understand how you were able to dream of Ricky or see him in that light.

Yes, he was handsome, but that was besides the point.

“I’m sorry Juni, I was having a nightmare.” You say, gathering yourself and getting up from your bed.

It was time to start getting ready.

“A nightmare? ‘Oh- Prince Quanruiiii~ Oh! Do you want the truth Prince Quanrui??~’” Juni mocked as she pranced around your room with an embellished fan, obnoxiously fanning herself.

Your face went warm within seconds.

“Silence! Or I’ll make sure you’ll be serving Prince Yujin rather than Prince Jiwoong’s table tonight.” You say, daggers in your eyes being thrown her way.

Prince Yujin was your younger kid cousin, whilst Prince Jiwoong was a newly appointed royal over in Sector Eight, the latter being known for capturing the hearts of maidens across many lands.

To this, she pipes down like a startled cat, walking out of the room to do god knows what.

This leaves you alone in your room to get ready for the night—as well as all alone to your thoughts.

You sigh as you look yourself in the mirror after your bath. You brush through your hair, anxiousness coursing through your mind.

When your mother comes in and stands behind you to help you with your tiara just like you knew you’d seen before, you feel shivers go down your spine.

“Is everything alright?” She spoke with grace, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

You nod.

“Don’t worry…So many people may be waiting for you in there, but they all have an agenda of their own. Try to have fun, okay Daisy?” Your mother says, calling you once again by the nickname she gave you as a child.

Your face went pale, blood running cold at this statment.

You’d always prefer roses.

Still, she continued on like a broken record.

After getting ready and talking yourself through your possible insanity, you meticulously decide to take another route to the reception hall—this meant taking the long way through the castle in order to get there.

Just as you round a corner very carefully, a voice takes you by surprise.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice chimes in from behind.

You jump, immediately turning around to meet sharp and playful eyes. As soon as you see him, you deadpan, automatically irritated that he graced you with his presence.

“What are you doing following me?” You stammer back harshly, immediately turning your back on him and continuing on your way. He reaches out for you and grasps your hair as you run along, letting it pass through his fingers.

“Your hair has grown longer.” He states, a smile on his face as you turn to give him a weird look.

He just chuckles and catches up to you.

“Why are you speaking to me informally, put some respect on my name.” You state, walking faster to hopefully get some distance between you two.

“Oh I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he starts, but before you can look his way, he spins you towards him and stares down at you.

You couldn’t read him really, but you knew he was probably doing this to embarrass you.

He did this to every lady.

You were sure.

“You look stunning tonight.” He states, brushing a stray part of your hair away from your forehead.

He watches as your face turns warm in color whilst doing everything in your power to try and avoid eye contact.

“Watch your trinkets Prince Ricky, I’ll make sure you go barren.” You say.

He quickly retaliates, immediately moving away—a wide-eyed smile playing on his face.

“Your Majesty, don’t speak that way. You don’t want your suitors to know you’re already thinking of me and children in your life.” He states, quickly sprinting off knowing you would resort to violence at his comment.

You catch his wide smile as he saunters off.

You were so tired of him.

With a fast heart beat, you ready yourself to take on the crowd for what felt like the second time today. You tried your best to get the events that just played out, out of your head; trying to convince yourself that your responsibilities and duties as a Queen were of the utmost importance. When the curtains open and your full name is announced, the same scenery you had dreamt of had come to life.

Your mom smiled the same way.

Your teachers did too.

The suitors all scurried to try and approach you just like you had seen before.

You walked over and sat in the same seat.

And there he was, that gummy smile introducing himself all over again.

It was unnerving this time.

The only thing that differed from your dream was the run in with the boy named Hanbin earlier within the day.

Instead, Ricky took his place. In a way, this excited you. Maybe what was to play out was that Hanbin would take Ricky’s spot too.

You smiled to yourself, the sound of music ringing throughout the hall as the strings and flutes played. This time, you didn’t need to search in your mothers eyes for what you should do next. You stand up, dress trailing in your wake.

You feel the room watching your every move. As you step out into the free open space on the dance floor, your eyes searching for him.

If everything play’s out like it did in the dream with only a few substitutions, it should all work out in your favor.

You turn gracefully, finding him on one side of the room. As soon as you see him and you make eye contact, he smiles, albeit a bit shocked.

Alright, you got this.

You take a step in his direction.

Then another.

And even when you see people make their way towards you, you continue towards him.

As you grow closer, his smile drops.

And when you stand in front of him, he stares you down, more serious than you had ever seen him.

“Would you like to dance?” You ask.

He looks around, fake smile on display to try and play off what was currently going down.

“Your Majesty, what are you doing?” He mutters, holding his hand out for you to place yours in.

“Just follow my lead.” You whisper as he bows before looking back up at you.

He takes your hand in his and pulls it towards his lips, taking you completely by surprise.

“You know they won’t like this.” He states, but gives you a smile contrary to his words.

He leads you out to the dance floor.

“I know,” You start, “…but I’m not doing this for you. Or them.” You say, making eye contact again with Ricky, his hand finding it’s way to your waist.

He chuckles at this, his smile reaching his striking eyes as he looks everywhere but at you, probably trying to sell the narrative that you two were having a decent conversation.

You two had always been around each other growing up, sworn enemies by the nations you both belonged to. It was just how it worked out, so you weren’t sure if anyone in the crowd was buying this.

“You sure? I see the way your cheeks go rosy when I tease you.” He speaks, looking back down to you.

This was the one time you recognize his height, because even though he’d tease you, you’d never stayed this close long enough to realize how his frame made you look almost sickly.

“I feel so sorry for you Prince Ricky. You’re so delusional, you don’t even realize how much you’ve rotted your looks away due to your own selfishness.” You mutter, starting to look around for the guinea pig who should be saving you at any moment from this hell.

If everything went to plan, the whiskered boy would take Ricky’s place and you’d dance the night away in contrary to how your dream turned out.

If everything went to plan.

“Oh, so you admit your attraction. I hate to break it to you Your Majesty, but I am not looking to be courted.” He says smugly, finally looking at you, mischief hidden in his eyes as his smile fades. It was almost a serious look.

You scoff at his words nonetheless.

“Say what you want. I know what I’m here for.” You say, continuing to look around.

Where are you?

Ricky notices this and starts to look around as well.

“Who are you searching for? You’re missing the whole reason you asked me to dance.” He says, half teasing, half confused.

You roll your eyes, but continue to search through the crowd.

“Right. Because i so badly wanted to dance with you.” You say, your tone contradicting your words.

Before you could hear out his next words, you were pulled closer by the waist. Your attention snaps to Ricky, meeting his eyes for the ninth time that day.

This time, he definitely looked serious.

A little too serious.

Despite this, you couldn’t look away. You take in the way his eyes look back and forth between each of your own. Without realizing your line of sight trails down to the swoop of his nose, and you see the way his cheeks smooth down to his sharp jaw. You didn’t even want to glance at the wording on the side of his neck. He was breathtaking—so long as he kept his mouth shut.

He looked just like the woman who hated your mothers guts.

When you trail to his lips, you see them upturn slowly. And just like that, you’re brought back to reality.

“Your Majesty-“ A voice chimes in, interrupting the moment.

You quickly snap your neck toward the voice.

Much to your dismay, it was a woman.

“Pardon Your Royal Highness, but may I steal Prince Quanrui for a dance?” She utters, smiling your way with innocence.

You hated that she too had whiskers.

You took in the way her yellow dress contradicted your red one; tailored to match her every inch, including her eye smile.

She was gorgeous.

And when you glance back at Ricky, that pretty entrancing look is gone from his eyes.

And he wasn’t Ricky.

He was Prince Quanrui.

“Ah- If I’m not interrupting anything, that is.” The girl states as she bows your way shyly.

You clear your throat and let go of Ricky’s shoulder, turning to reciprocate her bow.

“Of course. I don’t mind.” You say.

But you do.

You gave Ricky one last look, taking in the way his wavy blonde hair fell into his eyes. Naturally, his suit catches your eye again too; the pretty red roses looking a little different this time.

Roses had always been your favorite.

You send him a faint smile before you face the crowd again. It was an embarrassment that another suitor had taken away your current dance partner away. This was your suitors ball after all, but in that moment you couldn’t have cared less.

Guinea pig wasn’t here.

He didn’t ask you to dance.

Your dream was wrong, and he didn’t exist.

You walked back towards your seat, hoping to get a little rest after dancing for so long.

Despite how you were feeling, you kept your poise and grace as you went. Anyone watching would have thought you weren’t phased.

Everyone but your mother.

She met you back at your seat, brushing off suitors who were approaching you to dance in her wake.

“Are you alright, My Dear?” She asks, sitting down next to you whilst taking a sip of her drink.

You smile her way.

“Yes.”

“His eyes.” She mutters.

You stare at her in confusion.

“Your father got in the habit of gazing at me like that.” She finishes.

Within another minute, she was up and off, but not without leaving you with one last statment.

“Roses also deserve to be picked, regardless of their thorns.” She whispers, just enough for only you to hear, then you are once again left all alone to the maze that is your mind.

You look over to him.

He danced with this fake smile, his flirty eyes contrary to how lightly he grasped the young ladies waist.

It was all the confirmation you needed.

You knew he’d loved you your whole childhood.

You just knew.

Without thinking, you make your way across the ballroom floor.

Nothing could stop you.

No one.

“Your Highness?” A voice chimes up, trying to stop you on your way towards your destiny. You stop, but your eyes are still fixated on Ricky.

“Yes?” You say awkwardly, not even looking their way.

“Hello,” they bow, and you’re barely able to see their figure out of your peripheral vision, sight still set on one of the few blondes in the room.

“Uh- I’m a Prince from Sector Two, and I couldn’t help but-“ He notices your averted attention.

“-I couldn’t help but be in awe of-“ He follows your gaze.

Oh.

You finally take a moment to look towards the owner of the voice tripping over their words. You are met with a shy young man, smiling down in defeat, dimpled lines on the apples of his cheeks.

Him.

“I’m, sorry.” He says before he clears his throat to speak again.

“I couldn’t help but be in awe of your beauty, and it seems I know why.” He finishes. He finally looks you in the eyes.

Sung Hanbin, Sector Two.

“You have eyes I long for, but I see they burn for something else.” He finishes saying, a heartbreakingly respectful but sad smile gracing his face.

You just stare back in awe.

“Have a wonderful night, Your Majesty.” He says, defeat running rampant in his pretty eyes.

“I wish you happiness and health in abundance; truly.” He lets out, bowing before sending you one last smile.

He’s real.

You’re taken aback for a moment as you watch his figure fade back into the crowd, but then you remember the fire that was lit inside you before this interaction.

Right.

Whiskers was sadly the last of your worries right now, and the next thing that happens just confirms this.

When you turn back around, you meet eyes with him.

This time, he’s closer than you’d thought he’d be and you almost bump into his chest as a whole. With a few swift movements his hand finds your elbow, helping to steady you.

You can feel the warmth from him seep onto you—or maybe it was coming from you?

“There you are. I thought pretty boy might have entranced you.” He states, shooting a look in the direction whiskers had left. He over fixates on that area but you continue to look up at him and stare, taking him in all over again.

When he looks back down at you, the glint in his eyes change.

Ricky.

“Prince Quanrui.” You utter out.

His eyes turn blank.

You chuckle.

“Ricky?” You question, searching his eyes for change.

His eyebrows frown, and he tilts his head at you with his hands still placed on your elbow, but there’s that spark of life that’s ignited after you call him by his nickname.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” He questions, completely confused.

You smile up at him genuinely.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever regarded him as adorable before, but what was cute if not him right now?

“I really love daisies, did you know?” You ask, taking him in for all that he is, not caring if you two were stood standing in the middle of the banquet.

He speaks up quickly after registering your words, leaving no time or space to ponder them, “Nonsense, roses are your favorite—especially the red ones. Who are you and what did you do with the Queen?” He asks playfully, letting go of your arm and looking around like the playfull person he always was.

You stare at him, probably smiling like an idiot. He just waits for your response but when it never comes, he looks down at you in confusion.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He finally decides to ask once his eyes land on yours.

“Ricky, I know you’re in love with me.” You state plainly.

His heart drops and you can see the warmth leave his face. He scoffs ironically, and looks around anxiously whilst he dusts himself off.

“Wow, that’s a good one, Your Highness. You’re really getting good at that-“ He starts, but before he can finish his fluster of a comeback, you grab him by the collar and pull him close.

It wasn’t close enough for your faces to be touching, but now your faces were closer than they’d ever been before. You can hear his breath get caught in his throat, and you watch as he gulps in order to cope with what was happening.

You smirk, looking into his eyes.

You were definitely starting to feel the power of a Queen alright.

“Ricky, I’m going to walk away. And when I do, I will continue to walk and never look back.” You whisper as you study him.

You watch as his eyes looked down to your lips and back up.

Precisely.

However, before you could even pull away, you are yanked forward as he brings his lips next to your ear.

“Let’s say you are correct; I am madly in love with you,” He starts out as a whisper, “…are you willing to deal with the repercussions?”

His tone is playful, and you can hear the smile in his words. He was definitely acknowledging the fact that you two had already been acting so inappropriately infront of all your guests—yet he did not care and was waiting for your permission to proceed.

Waiting for you to acknowledge him fully for what he was.

The sworn enemy who was supposed to hate your guts.

You smirk as you pull away.

“Rules and repercussions are for the people; I am your Queen.” You state boldly, a smile radiating onto your face.

He smiles too, your words garnering a laugh as he pulls away and slightly throws his head back in amusement.

He was really something.

When he leans back towards your face in an effort to keep the conversation between just the two of you, your heart to ascends into your throat.

“Y/n, are you serious?” He asks as he searches in each of your eyes for any sign of regret or even a glint of mischief. He really hoped this wasn’t a joke despite your two’s very playful attitudes.

You watch him, knowing that deep down this is all you’ve ever wanted. Then you send him a smile; and it’s all the confirmation he needs.

Within seconds he pulls you in, placing his pretty lips onto yours.

Finally.

Even the gasps you could hear from around you couldn’t tear you out of the moment you were having.

He was delicate with you; moving his lips on yours like you’d wither from beneath him. His hand that now held your waist inched you closer and closer; it was as if the act you two were in the middle of still wasn’t close enough for him.

When you finally pull away, he places one last kiss on your lips, before he stares down at them. A grin makes it’s way onto his face before he’s looking around at the people in the room without ever meeting your eyes.

He ignores the angry looks on his people’s face, deciding to shoot them the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen as he focuses back in on you.

“I knew the dream potion would work, maybe meeting you through your dreams wasn’t a bad idea.” He mutters, grasping your hand and pulling you back in and close to him.

Your expression falls as your eyes go wide.

“What did you say?” You ask, half trying to process his words, half going to lose your mind if you heard him correctly.

He freezes and stares down at you like a dear caught in headlights.

Once again, you don’t know why that imagery popped in your head, but alas.

“It’s nothing, Your Majesty. May i have this dance?” He asks cheekily, not knowing if he should continue to play it off or make a run for it. He was always so playful and mischievous.

He was always so…himself.

He was always Ricky.

And you liked every bit of him unfortunately.

He was your favorite.

“Going once…Going twice…” He lets out playfully, holding his hand out closer towards you to take. You do so gracefully, a smile now making its way back onto your face.

When he leads you to the center of the dance floor, he pulls you close and urges you to rest your head near his heart. The music plays on and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you two in disbelief—but it did not matter.

This was your favorite place to be.

“Did you know I actually prefer daisies?” Ricky speaks out of nowhere, his soothing tone cutting through the music that played throughout the hall as you lifted your head and searched his eyes.

There it was again.

That pretty cat-eye gaze of his; fixated only on you.

“They’re my favorite, Y/n…”

“You’re my favorite.”

2024 © lovepookie

♡︎ please do not plagarize, repost, copy or translate any of my works. thank you.

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thankskenpenders · 1 year

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Sonic Prime: "Season 2"

Eight more episodes of Sonic Prime are out! They're labeled as "season 2" despite just being the next eight episodes of the first (and presumably only) season, allowing Netflix to market it as multiple seasons without having to give the cast and crew raises. They love doing that shit to their original cartoons. Ugh.

Anyway! Last time, I gave the show some leeway because it was still finding its legs. This time, though? We're now two thirds of the way through the series, and sadly, I think it's time to accept the truth:

While there are parts I like, a lot of this show... kinda sucks?

This multiverse sucks and Rouge was robbed

Previously, I noted the pattern of each universe spotlighting a different friend of Sonic's (Tails in New Yolk City, Amy in the jungle world, Knuckles in the pirate world) and predicted that, hopefully, Rouge would get her time to shine next. And with 16 episodes left, surely there's time to explore new worlds that are more interesting than the jungle and pirate worlds. Those were just the warm up act. Right?

...Right?

Nope! That's it! There are no more worlds.

This multiverse show where anything is possible really is just about another Eggman-controlled dystopia world, a jungle world, and a pirate world. That's all they came up with! Just those three, and two dead worlds that don't really count - one a featureless wasteland, the other a ghostly echo of the original Green Hill dubbed "Ghost Hill." (Sonic's friends appear here as holograms stuck repeating a single line each. It gets old immediately.)

The jungle and pirate worlds and their inhabitants being so overwhelmingly generic becomes unforgivable the moment you realize this is all we're gonna get. It just leaves me wishing they'd thrown this whole concept out and finally made a normal Sonic cartoon with no twist in its premise. A few of the new takes here are good, particularly Nine as a darker riff on Tails, but so many of them don't feel anything like the fun characters they're supposed to be. They're stock cartoon characters wearing the Sonic casts' skins.

I'll admit my bias is showing, but god, Rouge is REALLY done dirty by this setup. The normal Rouge we see in the first episode is so fun for how briefly she appears, but then in all the other worlds she's reduced to a generic action girl with zero personality. What's her purpose, exactly, when every AU version of Amy is ALSO a straightforward action girl? It drives me absolutely insane that they gave us a PIRATE ROUGE and she doesn't care about treasure. They do nothing with this! How!!!!!!!! She's just never gonna get her turn. It's so obvious that Rouge is only in this show so that they can have another girl, but you could swap her out with another character like Blaze and it'd make no difference.

Speaking of the pirates, though...

The way things play out in the pirate world is so stupid

Previously, with the Paradox Prism shard within reach, Captain Dread Knux was regressing into his old obsessive personality. I'm fine with this. Sonic and Dread both want the shard, they're gonna fight over it. Obvious stuff. But the actual impact it has on the story is maybe the stupidest bit of writing in this entire show so far.

Basically, while fighting a couple of the Eggmen and their robots at sea, Sonic has to briefly run over to the enemy ship to fight them and grab the Paradox Prism shard while Dread and his crew remain back on their ship. Dread goes "Oh my god, look! Sonic's abandoning us! Traitor!" While Sonic is... like 200 feet away. Still in clear view. Fighting the guys who are trying to kill them. Retrieving Dread's beloved treasure for him.

And yet, Dread's crew buys this! And when Sonic runs right back over with the shard in hand, they're all like "HOW DARE YOU BETRAY US" and turn on him.

It's just. What?!

This isn't a huge part of the "season," but I highlight it as maybe the worst moment of the show's character writing. I'm reminded of Thorn Rose's backstory from last time, where she was depicted as suddenly snapping one day when she saw her friends pick one too many berries in the jungle. Sometimes a character just needs to pivot for the story to work, and they aren't really interested in getting there smoothly.

The Chaos Council fucking sucks

I tried so hard to like these guys, but they drag the show down so much.

The choice to have a team of five different Eggmen really just means that Eggman has been split into five one-note characters. Four of them revolve entirely around the most trite, predictable, boomer-ass jokes based on their ages. The teenage one is whiny and just wants to play video games. The young adult one is a vegan hipster who does yoga. The old one is cranky about all the whippersnappers and has a bad back. The baby is a baby. These are jokes that would've been tired if this show aired 20 years ago.

The odd man out is Mister Doctor Eggman, the middle-aged one with a toupee who's the stand-in for regular Eggman. But even he kinda sucks. The other four all being one-note joke characters means that he has to be the straight man of the group, so he's just very dry and serious and plot-focused without any of Eggman's fun eccentricities. He's neither particularly funny nor particularly sinister, which is just about the worst place for an Eggman to be.

He doesn't even have any incompetent robot lackeys to bounce off of, because the unfunny alternate age Eggmen fill the quota for bumbling secondary villains. But also, like... Orbot and Cubot are in this show! They were in the first episode! Where are they? God, I never thought I'd miss them so much...

But, okay. It's not ALL bad.

The highlights

There's a recurring theme here, which is that the best episodes are the ones where Sonic is pitted against a foe who can match his speed and they just let the animation carry it.

The first of the new episodes is mostly about Sonic fighting Shadow, and BOY is their fight fun to watch. Said fight happens because Shadow blames Sonic for shattering the universe and doesn't trust him to fix things. Shadow wants to restore their world, but he refuses to see the various AU counterparts as the same people Sonic once knew, and he doesn't really care what happens to them. Ultimately, though, he begrudgingly accepts that Sonic really is the only one who can hop between dimensions for Plot Reasons, and therefore lets him go try to do things the nice way. He sadly spends most of his time waiting around in the void between worlds, but in the last episode of the batch he and Sonic get to team up against the Chaos Council's forces and it's very cool.

As far as recent interpretations of Shadow go, this is a good one. He's a great foil for Sonic, which just makes me wish he could travel with Sonic to the different worlds. He's cynical and overly pragmatic in his approach, but his points aren't entirely wrong. His anger feels justified. They even let him have some snark! And Ian Hanlin is really great in the role - definitely a contender for Shadow's best voice ever. He just sounds so natural.

The other speedster Sonic fights is Chaos Sonic, the Chaos Council's take on Metal.

He can talk! Deven is basically doing a Jaleel impersonation for him? People are very mixed on this.

The idea behind Chaos Sonic is to turn Sonic's obnoxious smack talk and zingers back around on him, and I don't hate this idea, even if a lot of fans find him annoying compared to Metal Sonic. (Some comparisons have been made to Archie's Shard, but I assume this is a coincidence.) Like the rest of the script, his dialogue certainly isn't anything to write home about, but the fights he gets into with Sonic and co. are so damn fun and dynamic that I have to like him. I also like how expressive his eyes are on his dome screen face, and the animators have a ton of fun with the fact that his torso and head can rotate 360 degrees.

Unfortunately, he's destroyed at the end of his debut episode. I'm praying he gets rebuilt, because this show desperately needs better villains than the Chaos Council.

Again, the animation in Prime is maybe the best animation in any official Sonic media, period. I just wished I liked the characters and worlds enough to be invested in more of the fights. It's hard to care about the dozenth group battle against the generic Eggforcer bots and the baby in his Fisher-Price mech.

The note we end on

After fighting a giant glowing replica of the normal Eggman for... some reason? Episode 16 ends with Sonic and Nine getting into an argument over what to do with the Paradox Prism shards. Sonic wants to restore his original world, but Nine still wants to create a new, better world out of the one that's just an empty wasteland, believing he doesn't belong anywhere else. Nine angrily runs off with the shards, and Sonic is distraught as he realizes that Shadow was seemingly right about how he shouldn't trust Nine.

I kind of like this conflict, mostly because Nine is the standout character of this show. But my main problem is that we don't know what will happen when everything is fixed.

The logical assumption is that the alternate worlds will just... stop existing, right? That must be the idea if Sonic and Nine are treating restoring the original world and creating a new one in the Shatterverse as mutually exclusive options, right? If the Shatterverse disappears, will Nine and the rest all stop existing, too? The show seems unwilling to discuss this possibility, so I'm left not really knowing what the stakes are in this conflict. Nine becomes a whole lot more sympathetic and Sonic becomes a whole lot more monstrous if restoring the world will erase most of this show's cast from existence, but the thought that this could even happen doesn't seem to have crossed Sonic's mind. Sonic seems to want to take his AU friends back to the regular Green Hill - he at least wants to introduce Nine to his normal friends - but like... he can't really do that, can he? They're not gonna have four Tailses running around.

I don't really know what direction this is all headed in. I guess we just have to keep watching, even if I'm past the point of accepting that this show is mostly very mid.

It's just frustrating that everyone else working on this show is clearly giving it their all while the writers at Man of Action phone it in for so much of its runtime. The scripts drag this show down so, so hard. There are moments and episodes I like, but you have to slog through so much mediocrity to get there.

#tkp post #other media

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ciitroner · 9 months

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Cabin In The Woods: and the consequences of your actions

Kidnapper!Ghost x Reader x Kidnapper!Soap

PART 3 OF THE KIDNAP!AU BACKSTORY SERIES, part 1, part 2.

ROUGH DAY (main story)

Summary: Never did you once believe that the seemingly abandoned cabin you stumbled across after an accident on your hike would belong to two men you once met at a bar. You wish you'd listened to your gut feeling about them...

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), afab!reader, kidnapping, oral sex, NON-CON, blowjob, DARK FIC, creepy/pervy behaviour, toxic behaviour, somnophilia? (not really, but you were about to drift to sleep), dacryphilia, humiliation, mention of stalking, slight violence, manipulation, hair pulling, fingering, you get hurt in the process of the hike

Notes: This took way too long, I deleted a few drafts before I said fuck it and settled with this one. Ok mwah enjoy Wc: 4.9k

The evening sun, accompanied by the small occasional breeze carefully, yet harshly, caresses your tired body. Your frame hangs low as if you had not slept in years, your eyebags complimenting the appearance. One after the other, with a shaking huff and a puff, you lift your legs to strive forward. To where - you had yet to discover. You had lost your hiking trail and were now only hoping for a helping sign, although to no avail. Your friend, whose house you were staying at, at the moment, had suggested that you enjoy the forest and nature instead of… well, sulking at home over not getting a job. It was a good idea at the time, and you had promised her to take a lot of beautiful photos that both of you could sigh happily about later on. The only problem is, that you’ve never gone on a hiking trip before, and suddenly being thrown into the worst situation you could currently think of- fuelled your hate for nature. No signal, and an almost dead phone did you no good.

With every rise of angriness and anxiousness over the setting sun, you find the strength to go deeper into the forest - maybe not the greatest idea, but you are so very sure that the hiking trail was around that area… probably… hopefully. You feel a droplet hit your nose, pulling you out of your thought process. How lovely! The bad situation became even worse. It’s slowly but surely getting colder, and what was once only a few drops of rain had turned into a heavy downpour. You could barely see your surroundings, but at least you don’t have to worry about water, you laugh miserably to yourself while you resume walking - as standing in the middle of nowhere would get you… nowhere. The forest ground is wet and slippery, forcing a few gasps and yelps out of you when you lose your balance from time to time. You’re cold, wet, muddy and grumpy after a few stumbles when the first flash of lightning lights up the dark sky, and not very much later - you hear the sharp sound.

“Ah… shit.” You’d have to find shelter as soon as possible, as being surrounded by trees wasn’t ideal in a full-blown thunderstorm.

The slow, hunched walking evolves into jogging in fear when the next bolt of lightning hits somewhere close. Something, most likely a root, knocks you down on your knees as you trip over it. Barely hearing your groan over the loud pitter-patter of the rain, you get up again - and you’d guess your knees were scraped bloody through your pants due to every fall - though, this one was significantly harsh. Your soggy clothing and annoying backpack weigh down on you, not much unlike the anxiousness of getting lost and eaten by wolves - and holding back tears is the only thing you feel like you have control over at the moment. Gasping for breath, you push through a dense thicket, the rain soaking every inch of your being and thorns grabbing onto the poor excuse of clothes you’re wearing. The forest seems to close in around you, and bile rises in your throat - which you have to force down with a gulp. The eerie creaking of branches, the rustling of unseen animals… creatures, the horrible sound of lightning and the relentless downpour create a symphony of discomfort - nonetheless, you push through the labyrinth of nightmares.

Each step forward is a struggle, and being unable to see what’s in front of you awakens a cruel twist of fate as it sends you tumbling down a steep part of the mountain. The world becomes a blur of mud, rocks and undeniable hurt as you desperately claw at anything within reach - attempting to halt your rapid descent. Time seems to slow down, and the echoes of your terrified screams mix with the howling wind until everything goes dark.

With a shocked and pained gasp, you awaken. God knows how long you’ve been out cold - but it mustn’t have been too long, as the world around you is still dark, and the storm continues its wrath, indifferent to your plight. Pain radiates through your body as you lay there, dazed and battered. You must’ve hit your head, making you pass out, you conclude after a horrible headache crashes down on you. Your hands hurt and so does a part of your lip, you could only guess that it had been injured in the accident. Grimacing, you manage to push yourself upright - letting out pained ah’s and oh’s when you have to balance your body on your hands to get up. Your backpack is still in its place - you realise, and you’re thankful as it could have dampened the fall. You stay standing still for a while, just… appreciating life, thankful you’re still alive. You put your hands in your pockets to preserve the warmth when you realise that your phone is gone, and you realise it's worthless to try and look around if you don’t want to fall somewhere again - as horrible as it was, your life was a bit more important.

As you’re turning around to take a new path, hopefully bringing you some place higher up where you could scream for help during the day, something catches your eye. With a squint of your tired eyes, you notice a cabin in the far distance. You realise it’s not a trick of your exhausted mind and that there indeed is a cabin nearby, nestled within the shadows of the towering trees - and like the most cliché horror character, you’re not taking a chance, limping forward towards the entrance. The cabin emerges from the darkness, its outline becoming clearer as you draw near. It looks old and slightly ugly, you notice - the chair and table on the front porch most likely have been broken and fallen over due to the relentless storm and many more.

With a deep breath, you approach the creaking door. You decide that it’s better to be potentially breaking into the cabin than to be left standing outside in dangerous weather conditions. You pull down the handle, and you’re relieved when it opens. The interior of the cabin gives a special charm of itself - as if time had paused within its walls - and you’re thankful that the shelter you had found for yourself had a good roof, not letting any drops of water slip by. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and dust. Pretty - but basic, furniture is arranged sporadically as if the owner only had put them there to… put them there. You notice a lamp over a kitchen table with two seats and realise that there might be a chance that the electricity still works, you could only hope. Quickly closing the door behind you, you take on the job of grazing the walls with your sore fingertips, for a sign of the light switch. You mutter an apology to the absent owner when you spread mud and water over the floor in your search, and promise yourself to clean it afterwards, “Aha!”

It takes around ten seconds before the light starts flickering before staying lit. You’re careful to avoid the rugs - some normal, and other animal pelts - when you search for other light switches, as you didn’t want to stay in the dark for any longer. When you’d get home… if you got home, you’d give your friend two slaps on each cheek before giving her a long hug and cry into her shoulder. Then you’d research every how-to on hiking there is, even though you’d never go again - it’s good to know. The occasional gust of wind through a window, incapable of being fully closed, makes the dust dance in the air and you cough.

There’s a fireplace in front of the sofa, surrounded by a bit larger stones, with a flat-screen TV resting on the mantel above the fireplace. You’re cold, and the only thing on your mind is a shower and a hot drink - but you shake your head and explore further, setting down your large backpack close to the entrance. You’d have to take out your things to examine what’s wet and what’s not later - even though you took a waterproof bag (thank god for your friend’s boyfriend), you don’t know if your things were safe from the horrid weather and fall. It’s a two-floor, cosy cabin - the upstairs area consists of a balcony and a bedroom. The windows, though framed by large heavy curtains, allow glimpses of the storm outside, and the flickering bedside lamp you’ve turned on allows you to see the dust gathered on the wooden frames of the bed, and a few flies that had died. The downstairs area consists of the living room, kitchen, and surprisingly clean bathroom - aside from the dust, there is no sign of mould nor any horror film yellowish-bathroom colour anywhere in the sink. You sigh in happiness and pray to whatever entity that had let you live the fall down the mountain that the hot water still works.

The owner might not have visited for a while, and you can only hope that they don’t feel like coming during the few hours- or days, you might be here. The wooden floor creaks under your every step when you walk over to pick up your backpack and settle it down on the kitchen table - obviously after dusting it down with a feather duster you had found in a corner. You needed a change of clothes as soon as possible if you didn't want to get sick - and thus, you unzip it and uncover a carefully wrapped bundle of spare clothes. The previous overthinking, while you had packed your bag, pays off as you take out another pair of underwear, shampoo and some warmer sweats. Luckily, as it was packed at the bottom - it hadn’t become wet, unlike your equipment at the top. You walk to the bathroom and put your clothes down on the counter connected to the basin.

You turn on the water in the bathtub, and let it run while the gentle hum of the electricity powers a small heater. You undress and look at yourself in the mirror, horrifying - you conclude. Steam begins to rise, and you slide the curtain to the side and walk in, sighing as the too-warm water almost boils your skin off - as it should. You made a mental note to remember the fireplace afterwards before you begin washing yourself, scrubbing the dirt and grime off of your body. The scent of your shampoo fills your lungs, and you smile to yourself.

After a long time, you emerge from the shower, wrapped in a dry towel, and feel a renewed sense of vitality. You slip into the fresh, clean clothes - a stark contrast to the dampness and discomfort that defined your… adventure thus far.

You towel dry your hair before leaving the towel to dry on the bathtub curtain rack along with your previous clothes - abandoning your shoes for a pair of warm fuzzy socks you had brought with you, wearing them with a pair of slippers you’d found. Although a few sizes too big, you cringed at the thought of walking on the dust and dead-flies-filled floor. The cabin was creepy, and the occasional flickering of light paired with the storm outside made you take no chances - so in case a monster of some sort came up behind you, at least you could hit it with a slipper. You shrug.

You bring out a vacuum cleaner and plug it into an outlet in the kitchen before cleaning the cabin, making it a more comfortable place - you were especially careful not to leave any dust particles around the fireplace, as it's highly flammable. You decide to clean upstairs as well, fixing the bed in slight sympathy for the owner, before arranging the logs in the fireplace - creating a carefully crafted pyramid you’re frankly proud of. A small box of matches rests on the mantel, and thankfully there are a few left. You strike a match, the flame dancing briefly before settling into a steady glow, and carefully touch the match to the kindling. The flames grow, licking at the wood and bringing the living room area to life.

You’d brought a few - now soggy, although still edible - snacks with you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep your stomach satisfied for at least a day or two. A breeze from the broken window made you shiver and stay closer to the fire, it was still dark outside, but the rain had calmed down by now and would probably come to a full stop in a few hours. You eat a few protein bars, before falling asleep on the sofa - not being able to turn the television on, as you had no energy to search for the remote control. Dangerous, yes, but it seems like your bad luck had run out as you awaken in the morning (or afternoon, you had no idea - as the only clock in the house had stopped working) with a fully intact cabin and now only a small sad fire in the fireplace. It’s sunny outside, thankfully - and you quickly wash your dirty clothes in the bathtub before hanging them outside on a clothesline. You grimace at the sight of your shoes, it would take at least a few sunny days to dry them fully - even though you almost turn them fully inside out. You walk back inside again, to get yourself some food.

“Hey!”

You let out a shrill scream at the unsuspected voice behind you, and you quickly turn around - cursing as you stumble because of the big slippers on your feet. He’s big, the man. Owner, you presume, inspecting him with wide eyes. He has a large balaclava with a skull print on it, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve seen it before. His gaze is cold, and there’s a certain standoffishness to his demeanour.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes, half-heartedly you assume by the hint of amusement and lack of warmth in his tone. His gaze assesses you, not unkindly, but with a detached scrutiny that makes you uneasy. He kicks his boots off by the front door, leaving it ajar, before setting down four full bags on the table you’d kept your backpack - before moving it to the sofa while you snacked yesterday. Your accelerated breathing and heart rate calm a bit when you realise that he doesn’t have any will to hurt you for breaking into his cabin at the moment, you feel the need to excuse your actions.

“It’s okay, it’s been q-quite a night,” you gulp, throat dry, “found your cabin while I was lost due to the storm.”

His response is a nonchalant nod. “Make yourself at home,” he responds, voice authoritative - making the suggestion almost sound like a command. It holds a distance that almost seems intentional. He takes in his surroundings and notices how clean it is, unusual to what it would normally be like after not visiting for almost months at a time. “I… I cleaned,” you announce with a cough, getting up from the floor feeling like an idiot. He seems indifferent, as if your actions hold little significance to him, “I can see that.”

He opens cabinets and slowly but steadily empties the bags, most of it is food, and other things include batteries, you notice. You feel awkward standing while he does the work, “d-do you-”

“Name’s Ghost,” he states abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence, and not bothering to extend a handshake or any other friendly gesture - continuing to store the items in their places. The introduction hangs in the air, the conversation feeling more obligatory than welcoming. You take off his slippers - and he seems to track your movements through the corner of his eye - before offering your own name. He lets out a short hum, and there’s that. It doesn’t lead anywhere, and you’re both left in silence before the front door opens once more. The sudden footsteps behind you startle you, and you turn around to find another man there.

“Did ye hang those rags outside- oh,” the man notices you and raises his dark eyebrows, “didn’t expect tae see anyone here,” he greets with an accent, although somewhat confused, his tone is friendly and warm - rivalling against Ghost’s composed and cold behaviour. Ghost offers the man a subtle nod in his direction, acknowledging his presence without uttering a single word.

“I was on a hike, got lost and sought shelter from the storm here…” you quickly explain yourself, fiddling with your fingers behind your back in anxiousness of being stared down by two large men. The man continues your conversation while Ghost neatly folds the plastic bags before putting them in a box somewhere in the corner.

“Nae bother,” he drops your name and your ears perk up, eyebrows furrowing in shock. He speaks with a grin as if nothing weird had happened at all. He takes off his boots before joining Ghost in the kitchen - muttering something about teabags. “Thanks for gien’ the place a tidy up.” You ignore his thankfulness.

“How do you know my name?” you ask, a tinge of uncertainty layering your words. The man’s grin widens, “we met at the bar, ‘bout a month ago. We had a good time, tad bit too much on the bevvy, though.”

“Ah… Soap?”

“Aye.” He almost vividly describes the details of your… not so much conversation, reminding you of a night when you were perhaps a bit too inebriated to recall much. You have to shush him after a moment, and he cackles at your embarrassed face.

You find it odd that Soap remembers everything so clearly - especially since it’s been a month, while your memories from that night are only flickering fragments. The realization that he has been holding onto these details gets you uncomfortable.

“Ye like yer tea wi’ a wee smidgen of sugar, aye lassie?”

It’s as if he has been meticulously collecting pieces of your life. Despite the peculiar circumstances, Soap continues to engage in casual - slightly one-sided - conversation, seemingly oblivious to the unease settling within you. The sun shines bright through the window close to the table, where Soap is now ushering you towards. You shake your head.

“I… I think I should go home,” you utter tentatively, voicing the sudden urge that has gripped you. Ghost’s gaze, still concealed behind the balaclava, remains unreadable - though the air surrounding him seems to thicken. Soap, his charm momentarily faltering, raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Leaving… so soon?” he questions, friendly demeanour momentarily slipping into an expression of perplexity - leaving you with goosebumps. He leans casually against a wall, as if waiting for your explanation.

“It’s just… I don’t know. These past hours have been a bit,” you wave your hands around, wanting to find the right words, “too much,” you stammer, struggling to articulate your urgency to leave. Soap’s grin returns, but there’s a subtle shift in his gaze, “we’ve got everything ye need right here. Naw need tae go,” he voices with a friendly tone that contradicts the unease in your gut. He places a warm cup of tea in front of you, setting you down on a seat, before sitting on the chair in front of you with a cup of his own. Ghost, still a silent observer - now also with a cup - stands beside Soap, not much unlike a bodyguard.

“Ye’ve been through so much… take a day or two’s rest here before you leave.” It’s voiced almost like a demand. “I guess,” you sip on the tea - silently cursing Soap because he made it just the way you like it. Soap relaxes against the wooden chair and Ghost moves slightly away from your eyesight - before lighting his balaclava to drink.

That was your third and last mistake.

“Love the hustle and bustle o’ the city, but sometimes, a quiet place like this feels like a different world, aye?” Soap shares, a lopsided grin on his face. “I guess,” you repeat. It had been a nightmare, really. You’d never go out again after this.

“Especially since we’ve now got an Angel sent from heaven, now.”

“I- I guess,” you would be a bit more creeped out if he wasn’t exactly your type. You’re both attracted to each other, it seems like. Awful situation.

You continue chatting, Ghost quipping in with small jokes occasionally - and you laugh. The tension in the air slowly disappears, and soon enough - when the tea cups are empty, Ghost drags his mask over his jaw again, hiding anything but his eyes. He gets a stool and settles down next to Soap. You’re thankful they’re being nice hosts.

“Soap-”

“Johnny,” he cuts you off, “he’s Simon. No need for call signs.”

“Ah… Johnny,” you begin, and swear that you see him shudder slightly, “where do you keep your plasters? My knees-” he cuts you off, “hurt in the storm, yeah? Lt will show ye.”

Simon, without uttering a word, motions for you to follow him. Johnny stays in the kitchen, mumbling something about dinner, had it been that long? He leads you to the bedroom to your surprise, you’d guess they’d kept them in the bathroom… but alright. The silence in the air is thick, only broken by the occasional creak of wood under your feet as you climb the stairs. The flickering poor bulb on the ceiling sparks to life when he turns it on, and he gestures towards the bed.

“Take your clothes off.”

“W-what?”

Simon doesn’t repeat himself, doesn’t even glance at you as he walks to the bedside table and rummages around, before getting up and leaving the room. You decide to strip, not wanting him to stare at you while you do it, at least. You take off both your shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear when Simon returns to you with a damp cloth and a few plasters. “We need to clean the wound before applying the plasters.” He deadpans as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You hesitantly nod, feeling way too naked.

“Have you done this before?” you ask dumbly, “i-is it a part of… your job, or something?”

“Sometimes.” He kneels between your legs, and you hiss when he starts to almost expertly wipe at your knees. He doesn’t stop for your cries, focus unwavering and trying to get it over as quickly as possible. You recall Johnny calling Simon “lieutenant”, and you guess their line of work was military. He carefully places plasters on the scraped areas once he finishes cleaning the wounds. He throws you out of your thought process when he sits beside you, towering over your vulnerable body, “elbow” is the only thing he says before lifting your arm. You two sit in silence as he works, his touch is surprisingly gentle, despite the lack of expression on his face - and the whole process feels clinical, as if he’s merely completing a necessary task.

“You’re lucky it’s not more serious,” he finally speaks, placing a warm hand on the back of your neck, squeezing slightly and breaking the quiet tension looming over you both. His words are cold, his voice deep, and you find yourself longing for the warmth and friendliness that Johnny had exhibited earlier. The hand stays for a bit too long before he gets up. As you put your clothes back on, Simon exits the room without a word, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You can hear the distant sounds of Johnny’s clinks and clanks in the kitchen. Descending the stairs, the delicious smell of food fills your lungs, and you’re so hungry - you realise.

“Feelin’ better, bonnie?” Johnny asks as he places three plates of food on the table. You nod, sitting down in your previous seat. It’s a simple microwavable dinner, but you almost drool. Simon sets down a wine glass in front of you all and Johnny brings a bottle, “to relax, aye?” he winks. You could use a glass of wine, to be honest, and so you let him fill your glass.

The three of you sit down to eat, and the conversation flows more naturally this time. Johnny, though still eccentric, appears to have softened his demeanour, engaging you in discussions about various topics. You find yourself laughing at some things you normally wouldn’t, you blame it on the wine and stress. As the night progresses, they suggest you take the bed - to which you reply that you can’t- won’t

“Can’t let you sleep on the sofa!” you exclaim.

“Who said anything about a sofa?” Simon shrugs. You brushed it off and assumed they had a guest room somewhere you could borrow, you were naive, you realise, now. Because that’s how you end up between them in their bed. To preserve heat in this cold climate, Johnny had said, plays with your sense of logic like a puppeteer.

At some point, he’d started touching you a bit inappropriately, and when you’d turned around to cuss him out - he’d latched his mouth to yours. Simon lies on his side, facing you two - yet not moving a muscle to help you at all. Between filthy and sloppy kisses, you manage out a “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing, Johnny!” to which he only responds with a shaky moan and rubs his growing hard-on into your thigh, “fuckin’ loooove when ye sae m’ name. Gets me so hard, lovie.”

He stops shoving his tongue down your throat to instead lick a stripe down to your neck, where he starts sucking hot open-mouth kisses into your skin. You let out a quivery breath, closing your eyes to not see the drooling man hunched over your body - the imprint of his dick tight against his jeans. You remember cumming on your vibrator to the thought of it a month back, but now you’d do anything to run away from it. A slap on your cheek brings you back to reality, the skin almost burns and tears prickle in your eyes. Simon is staring you down, while Johnny raises his body just enough to almost rip his t-shirt off of himself.

“Keep your eyes open.” It’s a demand, a scary one at that. Military men are, in theory, hot, but in practice… still hot but also terrifying. He brings his calloused fingertips to gently stroke the cheek, before gripping both of your cheeks until your lips pout and your face aches. Johnny grins crookedly, bends down and gives you an almost cute kiss before yelling “ass up!” Your body almost flies down the bed with the force he drags your pants and panties off of you, and you let out a squeal which both of the men laugh at, “P-please, I can… I can give you money” you beg through your pouty lips and make them laugh harder, “sure,” Johnny comments, “got naw money to pay rent, how are ye supposed to pay us?”

“How,” your mouth hurts, “how do you-”

Simon releases his grip on your face and moves to pet your hair.

“So talkative. Take her mouth, Johnny.”

The man almost flies up to sit next to your head, pubic hair rubbing against your cheek when he drags his leaking cock over your lips. He’s big, awfully so, and he knows it because he pulls at your chin until you open it reluctantly, “nice ‘n wide now, sae ahhh,” then sinks in. The moan he lets out almost makes you rub your thighs together, it’s filthy and pornographic, and only intensifies when you swallow around him in an attempt to not puke up the dinner you’d shared with them. Simon smacks your thigh, which makes you avert your wet eyes from Johnny to him. He continues petting your hair while his other hand simultaneously moves downwards to your pussy, body easily moving in between your legs to make it difficult for you to close them. His middle and ring fingers spread your flaps apart and tease at your hole before dragging them upwards and collecting your juices. You fight but fail the loud moan that escapes your mouth, “Y-yeah just like that- fuck…” Johnny rambles on.

It’s embarrassing, and you have to hold back from crying when you see how wet you are. Simon gladly spreads his fingers to show off, before wiping them off on Johnny’s balls, making his breath hitch, and his next thrust a bit harsher. With the hand on your head, which has since long stopped stroking, he wraps his fingers in your hair suddenly and pulls you slightly upwards. Tears trickle down your cheeks, and your sobs only rile the man in your mouth up even more. Simon gets closer to your face, almost rips your hair off of your skull and moves his still-wet fingers down to your clit, rubs painfully - almost past the point of pleasure.

“You, are never leaving.”

179 notes · View notes

ancha-aus · 1 month

Text

Ghost & Medium AU Drabble - The Necromancing Medium

Remember how I said I had an idea? That was angst and heartbreaking? This is the idea :D Again, still not sure if they will become a whole series thing.

The drabble is both a thank you for everyone being nice and drawing stuff and writing stuff! And also because I had an idea and as all of you know. I don't have self control :D

This one again includes a lot of my own headcanons for this idea/AU and even Dust. The most obvious one that I should probably mention? That Ash is the older brother and Dust is the younger brother.

Anyway. How Dust got so into necromancy and medium stuff and the tragedy that was his and his older brother's life.

WARNINGS: Child death. Survivor's guilt. implied child abuse. Child Neglect. Mention and implied child harrassment and molestation. attempt at child grooming (the bad BAD kind). technically attempted suicide. nothing is graphic or overexplained but it is implied and slightly mentioned.

I am serious. This one is angst and trauma filled and I am trying to not make it too triggering for anyone but please be careful, mind the warnings and if you aren't 18+ don't read.

*------------------*

Dust rubs his hands down his pants and checks the circle he made.

This has to work.

It just has too.

If this doens't work then... then...

Dust quickly grabs the book near him and squints his sockets at the writen words. It is old and written in another language but Dust has figured out most of it.

He is very lucky the library is open for eveyrone or else he would not have had a place to reasearch... or sleep... or wash up...

It doesn't matter. This ritual should fix everything.

Ash appears near him and glares at the drawn circle "Oh for crying out loud. Not another one of these."

Dust hugs the book closely "This one will be different..." It has to be.

Ash sighs as he floats near Dust "look... I appreciate it.. but i don't want to feel like i am being thorn apart again okay? It is about to rain soon anyway...." he looks up.

Dust nods "It has to rain..."

After all... it had rained the day Ash was murdered. It is part of the ritual to help the soul return.

Ash sighs and shakes his floating skull. He is clearly disappointed.

Dust frowns and tries to focus on the circle he is making. It has to be perfect. How else will he get Ash back?

He still remembers it so clearly.

Dust waits in his room for Ash to return from his after school activities. He is the star gymnastic at school and has a scholarship lined up for him for when he goes to college and to continue training.

Dust knows that it is just a matter of time before Ash is requested for the olympics. Ash is just that amazing! Even at fifteen Ash is many times better than most!

Dust himself doesn't have any after school activities. He normally just watches Ash and walks home with Ash afterwards. Dust gets why of course. He has no talents whatsoever. His parents have told him that many times.

At least Ash likes having him around and giving him ideas for tricks!

Dust looks at the clock and frowns. It is well past dinner time... their parents having gone out for food themselves.

He... he had hoped that when Ash got back Ash and him could make something together. ash had been teaching him how to cook. Said that it was an important skill for him to learn even if he was only ten.

More time passes. No one comes home.

It is half past eleven when the front door opens and Dust peaks out only to quickly disappear into his room again. His parents are home. Why isn't Ash home yet? Did he have another meetup? extra training? Did he go out wiht friends?

He goes to sleep uneasy and hungry.

His guts twist together and his dreams quickly form. Visions of lives never his own. of the restless spirits who try to speak to him and pull him along. Take his body and his energy.

Ash is the only one who believes him. When Dust told him that Dust hadn't thrown over the glass vase but a ghost had done it. When something went missing Dust swore he hadn't touched it. No one ever believed him. Except Ash.

The Dreams change and suddenly Ash stands before him. Looking angry.

Dust doesn't get it... Why is Ash angry? Ash is never angry with him.

Dust reaches for him "Ash?"

Ash pulls away from him. He looks furious "find me."

Dust blinks but takes a step away from his brother "what?"

Ash groans and waves out his arms "Find me! Use your stupid powers and find me!"

Dust doesn't understand. Why would he need to find him? "But.. you were at practise?"

Ash groans "Fuck you are just so stupid sometimes!"

That hurts and Dsut hugs himself "I... I will search?"

Ash goes to say something else but then he is gone.

Then Dust wakes up. it is still early but he grabs his few school things and escapes the house before his parents wake up. He rushes to school and looks around. Searching.

He isn't sure what he is searching for. But if Ash tells him he needs to find him he can. He will figure out why Ash would appear in his dreams like other spirits but that is for later. He needs to find his brother. Maybe he got locked in somewhere? Or maybe he got hurt and can't move?!

Dust rushes towards the gym

He quickly gets inside but every light is still off. Everything is cleaned up and empty. Then again it is only 6 and the morning workouts don't start until half past 6.

Still. Dust rushes towards the locker rooms and searching both sides. Finding nothing there he searches the toilets next before returning to the empty gym.

"Dust! what are you doing here?"

Dust jumps and turns quickly. It is the coach. Dust can never remember his name and honestly he never wants to. Dust... doesnt like being near the other. Something about him is off. Maybe it is because the spirits seem to glare at the coach whenever they pass. Maybe it is because Dust thinks the man stares too long when his brother practised.

Dust told Ash once. How he doesn't like Coach and how the spirits dislike him too. Ash had just smiled and said that Coach was actually always very nice and took them all serious and treated them as adults.

Dust shrugs at the teacher as the other waits for a reply. He mutters a weak excuse "wanted to see brother practise..." he rubs his arm.

Every spirit is screaming at him. He doesn't understand what they say. he thinks spirits need to be strong for him to be able to hear or see them but he can feel them still. The spirits are tugging at him. To go. to leave. to go with them? Dust doesn't know what they want.

Coach nods "I see! I am sorry to disappoint. I haven't seen your brother yet. Not since yesterday morning practise!"

Dust frowns "Ash doesn't skip." Ash never skips. He has more determination than anyone.

Coach nods "I agree. I was going to see if Ash joins us for practise today. If he didn't i was planning on calling your parents. Do you wish to wait with me?"

Dust shakes his skull "No that is okay... I am going to keep searching..." and he rushes out of the door before Coach can answer.

Dust can't believe he was that stupid. two years and he still feels like kicking himself in the skull for not seeing it sooner. To not realise it sooner. Maybe if he had noticed the obvious clues...

Ash wouldn't... He wouldn't have...

It doesn't matter.

Dust lays down another line and checks the ritual in the book. That all looks right and the same. He nods and reaches for his necklace.

Ash looks alarmed "Hey! What are you doing? Stop that my dust is in there!"

Dust freezes and mutters "I don't need all of it... just a tiny bit for the ritual..."

Ash looks deeply unhappy as he mutters "But it makes sure i am anchored to you still... at least until you can do the whole haunting bond thing."

Dust shrugs "if this works you won't need to anchor to your dust or me anymore." this will fix eveyrthing. He will make it right.

Ash looks unsure but floats near him as he gets things ready.

The news of Ash's disappearance shook the school. Dust swore he searched everywhere! He tried to get answers from Ash in his dreams but all the dream Ash told him was to 'search' and to 'actually think for once.'.

His parents were inconsolable. Neither were the teaches adn other students. Ash was loved. Ash was wanted. Ash had a bright future ahead of him.

Dust... Dust was lucky that Ash liked him...

Though... dream Ash didn't like him at all it seemed... dream Ash was just angry at him.

Dust knew what they whispered of course. It wasn't as if anyone tried to hide it. People spoke about how it was a shame that Ash had disappeared. How it was a shame it hadn't been Dust instead.

Dust tried not to let it bother him. He was always the weird kid. He had always been the weird kid. He spoke to people not there. strange things happened around him. Dust seemed to lie about thingsthat he obviously did because no one else was near to could ahve caused it.

He hadn't cared much before even if it hurt to not be believed becuase at least Ash had believed him.

His parents hadn't been for whispers however. They just looked at him and sneered that it should ahve been him who disappeared. not their dear golden boy who had such a bright future and would have made them proud. instead they were stuck with him, the disappointing freak.

Dust hadnt gone home since Ash didn't return home.

others whispered that Ash ran away.

But Dust knew that wasn't the case! It couldn't be! Ash... Ash wouldn't just leave! Not without him!

When their parents argued and on nights after they yelled at him. Ash would hold him close. promise that once he was old enough the two of them would just disappear. that Dust just had to be patient. Once Ash went to college he would take Dust wiht him and they would never have to see their parents ever again.

Ash... ash wouldn't break that promise. Ash was honest! Ash kept his promises! always!

Dust sobs as he hides beneath the seats. Hiding.

"Dust? Waht are you doing here?"

Dust blinks through the tears and looks up. He sobs as he pushes himself upright. Ash. Ash. IT IS ASH! He jumps to hug him only to go right through him and land in the mud leftover from the rain.

He turns and realises... he had been so focussed on his face that... that is only a floating skull and hands... but... but that can't be...

Ash flickers in and out of view. He moves his mouth clearly speaking but Dust can't hear anymore.

No... no no no no. He needs to tell people. Something terrible happened to Ash!

Dust finishes the last view lines and reads the information given in the book.

Ash frowns as he flies over and around it "It looks complex... Waht ritual is this even?"

Dust rechecks the text "A Life force transfer."

Ash blinks and turns sharply "what?"

Dust nods as he checks the different tinier circles to signify where eveyrone has to stand "I think... the reason why the other spells failed was because you don't have enough life force. which i think is just soul energy. You died and are just your left over soul energy now. that affects how you look and everything. It is why we need to anchor you with your dust." he taps his pendant. "Which is why we even use this."

Ash frowns and looks at the ritual considerate "So what... you think we just need to boost my life force and i may be able to be resurrected?"

Dust nods "That is the plan."

Ash frowns "I don't know about this Dust... stealing someone else's life?"

Dust shrugs "It is fine. The one who gives it needs to be willing."

Ash snrots and shakes his skull "Who would be an idiot big enough to give their life force awya freely?"

Dust shrugs "don't worry... i got that part of the ritual covered. Mind going over there? I need to check if the runes to transfer the energy to you would work."

No one believed him.

Everyone just looked at him with pity when he told them he saw his brother's spirit.

that his brother had been murdered or got into an accident.

He wouldn't have left him otherwise!

No one believed him. No one.

The funeral was terrible. He hated every second of it as they jsut spoke some words. They didn't even have his brother's dust to spread on his favourite things.

his parents wanted to do a burial. Even though Dust knew Ash hated the idea of being underground. All that meant was that most things important to Ash were being burried.

forever out of reach. Now he can't even get comfort out of those things.

Dust goes home wiht his parents but neither look at him beyond this dirty look. Dust doesn't care. He has a mission.

His brother's spirit is weak. very weak. He can do some rituals to strengthen it maybe. normally offerings and stuff like that works to get spirits to be stronger, at least for a little while.

If Dust wants to find his brother he needs to do that.

He grabs what he needs and goes back to the school. It is where Ash spend most of his time and most liekly has the strongest imprint of him. Not to forget dust saw him on the sport field. He gets there and makes the offering.

A flicker. Dust smiles but Ash just looks panicked. Telling him to go. let him go as well.

Dust shakes his head. he can't let go of Ash.

Ash is still too weak to say a lot but a tiny bit gets through "... stay away... coach..."

oh. it is so obvious! Of course the creepy coach had something to do with it! Dust stands up and looks at the gym. So that is where the answers lie. Ash looks more panicked but Dust just smiles at him "It is okay Ash... I swear i will fix this!"

He will find out what happened. make sure Coach got what he deserved for hurting his brother and then... then... Ash can move on... Ash will be able to rest...

Ash will leave him...

No. don't think like that. Ash deserves to move on. Ash deserves to find peace! even if it means Dust will lose him forever. He won't force Ash to become a wandering restless spirit.

Ash is shaking his skull at him and trying to keep him from going towards the gym. That is fair. it ist still night. He will need a better timing for this. luckily it is the weekend soon and he will be able to get to work.

Dust nods and smiles "ther. everything is in place."

Ash frowns as he floats above it "so let me be clear." he points to one spot "this is the spot of the life force giver." he floats to another spot "This is the spot of the life force gainer, me?" Dust nods and Ash floats to the small circle wiht the tiny bit of dust "why is the dust needed?"

Dust looks to the side "To make your body... I had to combine the ritual to give you life force and to give you a body... otherwise you would just get m- the giver's body and i doubted you like that."

Ash blinks and snorts "I thought you tod me that performing two rituals at once is too dangerous for mixups or to drain you." he grins at him "You can be so forgetful sometimes."

Dumb and stupid and useless-

Dust shrugs "It is better if it is done at once..." he mutters softer "only get one chance at this..."

Ash frowns at him and flaots over "hey... i know i made a big deal of the whole... it hurting thing before... but if you mess up and mix up words we can try again." he grins "I am already dead anyway. can't get much deader!"

Dust shrugs "maybe..." No. there is only one chance at this. It has to be perfect.

He gets one chance at this.

Dust stands before the office of the coach and takes a deep breath. trying to ignore the panicked flickering vision of his brother.

He was such an idiot. his brother had tried to warn him before in his dreams. yet Dust hadn't seen the signs. if he had done this that day... Ash may still be alive.

It is oaky though. Dust can do this.

He knocks on the door.

everything in the air is screaming at him. spirits of his past victims maybe? All trying to warn him to run and hide. Dust will not let his brother become just another wandering spirit. stuck to this disgusting excuse of a person.

The door opens and the coach gives a wide smile "Dust! I am so happy to see you. How are you doing? The news of your brother must have devastated you."

Dust nods and mutters "I miss him.. a lot.. but he liked gymnastics... i was wondering... could i get some training?"

The man blinks before his smile grows and he looks very excited "of course! It is an amazing thing to want to connect with your brother that way. such a grown up thing to do to!" he steps aside.

Dust is about to take a step when ash appears in the doorway. his arms crossed and him shaking his skull.

Dust takes a deep breath and walks into the office.

Coach and him... talk... it is mostly about ash. How ash was so far ahead of everyone. the hardest worker and how he was admired by everyone around him. How he enchanted people.

Dust agrees of course. his brother is the best. Which is why he is here.

Coach mentions that it may be hard for Dust to do what Ash did. As ash was older and had been training from a young age. But that he was willing to give Dust private lessons and tutoring to get him ona level where he can safely join the others in class. That the Coach would be happy to guide him and teach him anything he could want.

Dust mutters it sounds interesting and that he just wants to be closer to Ash. at least feel closer to him again.

The coach smiles and petted his shoulder as he stood behind him, it raised every instinct in Dust to run but he stayed put. The coach muttered about how that was a very grown up and honourable thing to do. Asking him again how old he was.

Dust answered truthfully that he is ten and the coach hummed "You act much older." he smirks.

Dust mentions that he should go to class but the coach just pats his shoulder. saying that he will have a word with his teachers and see if Dust can skip a few days of class to get some training and practise in. get those private classes started right away.

Dust eaisly agreed and nodded when the coach told him to stay put before he rushed out.

Dust immediantly got off his chair and started to search through the office. It didn't take long until he found a locked drawer. another weak spirit. one of a young human girl appeared before him. and held up numbers wiht her fingers. 4. 5. 3. 9.

Dust entered the numbers and the lock springs open. He looks inside and finds a file and a camera. He takes out his own old phone, a gift from Ash for emergencies. and takes a picture of what he found.

then he looks through the file and... oh... oh god.

Dust shakes as he feels vomit crawl up his throat. No. focus. he aims his camera and snaps a picture. Of every picture in there. of every child in tears and bond as the coach... touches... them...

He is shaking by the end before he reaches for the camera. searching and snapping pictures.

Find him. find him. find him. he has to-

found him.

Dust manages to take a picture before refering to his very first picture. he places everything back in the same place nad relocks the lock. and then he waits.

The coach returns with his homeroom teacher who gently reminds him that he can't just skip classes to learn gymnastic. but that he could look into getting him into it as a past school activity.

Dust nods nad mutters that he understands. trying to remain calm and hoping everything about him just screams disappointed over sick to the stomach.

He walks out of the office phycially fine.

But this isn't the end. He has one more thing to do.

Ash yawns as he looks up at the sky "Rain is still coming."

Dust hums "need rain. It was raining when you left your body. Need stuff to be alike."

Ash hums as he floats near the book wiht a frown "Hey Dust."

Dust nods "yeah?"

Ash speaks "I am not fluent in this language... what does this whole paragraph about pain passing?"

Dust feels his hand shake but forces it still "oh... it is part of the life force ritual... the giver... gives the life force... but to make it work to strengthen the one who gets it... well. the trauma of the one receiving it needs to go... so when the life force gets given the one who gives also takes the pain of the other... so waht they felt when they died. i think." Dust isn't looking forwards to that part. but maybe it is for the better.

After all.

It would ahve been better if Dust had died instead of Ash.

He is just righting a wrong.

He doesn't take this information to the teachers. or his parents. or the principle.

Dust walks 10 miles towards the police station. He goes right to the man at the reception and laid down his phone "Got the proof you needed that my brother was murdered."

It would be an udnerstatement to say that brought chaos.

The policeman behind the counter had at first looked amused but then he grabbed his phone adn started to scroll through the pictures. Each one making the other look more horrified.

Dust was rushed into a room with a very nice lady who asked him if he had any allergies or any health issues. Dust shook his skull.

another policeman returned with his phone and thanked him for his brave actions and that he was asking a lot of him that he would need to continue to be brave.

Dust didn't see it as being brave but answered the questions. Why he searched. He was honest. They looked sceptical when he mentioned ghosts.

Dust was ready to start crying. after everything. everything he did. would they not believe him? He was being honest. he doesn't know what else to do and-

And something had appeared on the white board. a pen floating and slowly writing the words "My brother is right. I am here. please... please listen..."

if there was chaos before it was nothing compared to this. the people working there got to work in a frenzy. They send people to the school to investigate. they called in professionals from the bigger cities and priests as well.

They asked him so many questions. if the coach had hurt him. if he had seen anything else. noticed anything.

Dust told them what he knew and noticed before just having to wait.

An high priest of some church came by. someone who could speak wiht spirits. the priest took one look around the room and spoke about how there are many spirits nearby. the priest than looked at Dust and nodded. saying it is nice to meet a new medium. something about him having talent for it and being a strong medium.

Dust didn't feel strong. he said as much. if he had been strong he would have known ages ago that something was seriously wrong with the coach.

The priest tells him he did amazing. more than amazing. but that this burden shouldn't have been his. that others should have notified people specialised in things in this nature as soon as Dust showed promise.

In the end it was anticlimatic. the coach was thrown in prison but he wouldn't admit where he hid Ash's body.

In the end Ash showed Dust where he ahd been burried. right under the playing field. and there were more hallow graves under there.

Dust hadn't been able to stop himself. as soon as the thing holding his brother's remains had opened he had thrown himself in. Only dust. of course there was only dust and left over clothes left.

scratching marks on the coffin. Ash had tried to get out...

Dust finally cries.

Dust nods and steps back "all ready. Ash? can you go to your spot?"

Ash floats over lazily "finally. I am honestly getting impatient. I think you actually got this one Dust." Ash looks excited "It would be awesome to be alive again."

Dust smiles as he slowly inches towards his spot "You could pick up gymnastics again?"

Ash groans "maybe. Coach kinda ruined that experience though... but college is still fun. What do you think? Think i can still be a cook?" he grins "You can also go back to highschool then. actually finish your own schooling."

Dust smiles as he gets near the offering circle "of course you could."

Ash nods as he looks around "so... who did you manage to convince to give over the life force and stuff? Someone already sick? someone very old?" Ash grins at him.

Dust is hoenstly trying to smile for his brother. but he is so scared. his whole arm is shaking.

Ash frowns "Dust?"

Dust takes a deep breath and steps in his circle.

Ash's sockets widen "what are you doing?! Get the fuck out of there!" he goes to fly over but the circle keeps him in his spot. a safety meassurement. It had been to make sure ash didn't accidentally leave his circle.

Dust slowly raises his hands as he tries to keep his panicking soul calm "it is okay... should be quick."

Ash shakes and looks furious "NO! YOu get out of that circle right now or so help me! I don't agree with this! I don't! This is not willing! I don't want this!"

the ritual circle that had all been glowing a soft green turns red and Dust can feel the affect that had been slowly starting to take place stop. Dust stares down adn glares at Ash "what are you doing? I am fixing things!"

Ash shakes his skull "this isn't fixing shit! You would be dead!"

Dust glares "So?! Everyone would be hapyp with it!"

silence around them.

Ash reaches for him "Dusty..."

Dust shakes as he tries to calm his shaking. stop being dramatic. you are twelve now. get over it. Ash can come back now. as seventeen and still pick up his life again.

Don't ruin this.

Dust rubs the tear away as he mutters "Just let me fix this..."

Ash shakes his skull "I don't want this..."

Dust glares "since when not!? You are always telling me how much you miss being alive. How much you wished you could ahve just amde a run for it when you were alive! How you would eat better food! Visit cooler places! Actually go to college and make something of your life!" Dust shakes "I know this is wasted on me... This chance... jsut take it!" he is shaking and crying "Just let me fix this... let me do soemthing that makes you love me again..."

The shaking gets to back and Dust just grumbles to the ground. He is so tired. everything is hard and no one likes him. No one trusts him. His parents left him as soon as Dust had to stay at the police station. Is it so bad? so bad that he just wnats his brother to love him again? if only for a few moments? and then just sleep forever?

the glow disappears as his concentration breaks and Dust tries to pull hismelf together. Rub his tears from his sockets as he tries to mutter the start of the spell again.

He feels Ash close and he flinches "sorry... i can do it and..."

"don't... please don't..." Ash looks heartbroken as he floats near him "damnit i wish i coudl hug you..."

Dust sobs and nods "me too..." his last hug was the mornign before Ash went to that last faithful practise.

Ash speaks softly "you don't ahve to fix anything..."

Dust shakes his skull "but if i hadn't been so dumb i would have known it were other victims. i could have warned you!"

Ash just shakes his skull "Not your fault."

Dust sobs "If... if i had searched faster i could ahve found you sooner."

ash shakes his skull again.

Dust looks downa dn mutters "i messed something up... and now you can't move on... I keep you stuck here because i don't want to be alone..."

Ash snorts and shakes his skull "Dust... you did everything right. You got my murderer brought to justice and you guys found my remains. I had felt it. I had been able to move on right then and there but... well..." he looks at dust "I wasn't going to leave you after that.."

dust looks down and rubs his tear angry "so... you feel like you ahve to stay because i am weak and pathetic..." he needs to do this ritual. give ash the life he deserves and-

Ash laughs "no you dum-dum." he grins "I am here because i don't want to move on without you." Ash floats around him and rests on his skull. Dust can't feel pressure from him but he feels the energy of his brother near "there was no way i was going to leave you because i don't want to leave you. It is just as much for me as it is for you dusty. You are my brother."

Dust feels hismefl relax "i am sorry."

Ash gently hushes him "hush. No need to feel sorry, well aside form the fact you scared the unliving daylight out of me. Promise me you will never do something this stupid ever again. No giving your life or soul or any of that or the energy of either to others. you hear me?!"

Dust laughs and nods "promise..."

Ash hums "good. Now. Mess up this ritual circle thing. and burn the pages of the book detailing it."

Dust frowns "but what if we actually ened it and-"

Ash hushes him "no. None of that. No life force trading."

Dust sighs but does as told. messes up his circle. retrieves his brother's dust. and he uses a lighter to burn the page of the book holding the ritual.

Ash nods "much better."

Dust sighs as he starts to leave the forest "I don't know any other way to bring you back."

Ash shrugs as he floats with him "we aren't in a hurry."

dust frowns "you will miss things you could do in life?"

Ash grins "that is the great part. you can always catch up. I don't ened to be young to go to college. to start to learn how to cook. or any of that." he floats around him and it now looks like they are both wearing the red scarf "so no hurry."

DUst sighs and nods before muttering "we are going to have to find a stronger anchor for you. at least until i am old and strong enough to be the anchor myself."

Ash nods "much better. Time yo go to our favourite spot the library and do some research. AFTER! You ate and showered. You are soaking wet and don't think i didn't notice you skipped breakfast again."

Dust nods and sets into the right direction. Maybe one day he will figure it out. For now he will jsut learn what he can.

*------------------*

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infinite-hearts-333 · 2 months

Text

Within The Conference Room

Starring North Heat ( @north-heats-stronghold )

Au Belongs to @onyxonline

Thank you to all the people that lent me your captains! I hope you find them within the fic :)

——————————————————————————

North Heat was exhausted.

What was meant to be a simple one day activity plus putting Oura Thorn into some form of therapy had turned into a horrific accident. It had been weeks, nearly a month, and Thorn was still comatose, and North was now fighting against the other captains and outrageous rumours that pinned Thorn at being thrown out.

Or worse.

North’s horns throbbed slightly. What had been ten minutes of danger, and North..

So much went wrong.

Too much, went wrong.

It was North Heat’s fault. Thorn had been stressing about this very thing, and now, too late, North knew why.

Because Oura Thorns power was a lot bigger, and a lot more dangerous than any of them were ready for.

North’s grip tightened around his file, crinkling the paper as he took a slow, chilly breath.

He was hurt- Sunny and Zelda, got hurt, and Thorn- he winced a little, tilting his head as the painful memory of his last visit flashed through his mind. The Beast, coiled in on itself, almost grasping its tail in its maw. The scientist and nurses, constantly flickering around it, monitoring, and the head nurse, muttering to her coworkers, that there was a chance that it may never awaken.

North swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes closed to settle himself. He caused all this damage. He would fix it, no matter what. He needed to go through with all this, no matter how tough. It was the least he could do for being so unprepared, and putting not only his own crew, but a close friend of his in danger and in harm’s way.

Sighing, he tilted his head to the small crowd standing in the hallway with him. It hadn’t taken long for the rumours and stories to reach Ludwig, to which he sent out a message to the captains that a meeting was required for such an issue. All the captains, here, because of this.

There was a faint chime, and North lifted his head, before shifting off the wall and into the meeting room.

Oura Thorn’s fate would be decided here.

And North would fight everyone in the room to ensure nothing bad happened to them.

The captains all took their seats, silent beside quiet murmuring. North stood at one of the heads of the tables, since he was the only one who knew Thorn enough to represent them. North smiled a little as Dogday took a stand next to him, giving North a slight grin and encouraging thumbs up.

At least someone is definitely on my side..

On the other end of the table a hologram flickered to life, and the last murmurs went silent as Ludwig appeared. He was old, almost worn, with a face that had gained dimples and lines from smiling. North let out a soft breath, smiling.

Ludwig was a good man. He would do what was good for all of them- North Heat was sure of it.

“Captains.” Ludwig greeted, smiling at the critters surrounding the table. A couple murmurs echoed around, between hellos and soft waves.

“I thank you for taking time away from your missions to talk about this. This type of situation doesn’t happen often, and I felt that with your level of expertise, your advice would be of use,”

North straightened his back, inhaling slowly.

Ludwig gently gestured forward, a smaller hologram flickering to life. Several more murmurs went around the table at the sight of the Beast, frozen mid roar.

“As I’m sure many of you are aware, we had a problem with a critter on board, and their powers. It had caused a lot of damage, as well as injuries. I’m going to have North here,” Ludwig smiled, his eyes creasing as he waved a hand to North, “talk to you all about the Critter in question.”

Here we go.

North dipped his head to Ludwig, ignoring the stares of all the other captains, turning to look at him. “Thank you Ludwig,”

North spread his wings a little, putting the files flat on the table. He didn’t need the notes to talk about a friend. “Their name is Ouřa Thorn. I have known them for over three months now- and most of this problem… is my own fault. Thorn isn’t a space rider- they work in an abundance of jobs on the base, not limited to the foodaries, maintenance and cleaning.”

“I was one of the critters, to also get injured,” North added, frowning. “Thorn had been stressing over something, to the point that my crew and I were starting to worry for their health. I and two of my crew members decided to confront Thorn over the subject.”

North faintly closed his eyes. “We weren’t prepared for Thorn’s power, and things spiralled out of control. But Thorn- Thorn would never hurt anyone. They spend so long suffering in silence, protecting us from this. And they wouldn’t have shared it if I hadn’t pushed.”

Opening the file, North smoothed out the papers of all the notes and information about Ouřa Thorns background he could dig up. Another thing that North had to bring up with the lizard- because there was barely any tabs on them- their planet wasn’t even listed.

“Ouřa Thorn has been here since they were 16. If they were out to hurt any of us, or were doing this for the cults, or something, they would have done it when they were younger- and had less self control.”

Fainter, more agreeing murmurs.

“I think we should get rid of them, while we can.” Came a sharper, rougher voice.

Ah. I forgot he was captain.

North took a deep breath, and glared at Dogbite from across the table.

The dog was half leaning on the table, arms crossed. “Their power is wild and out of control. They could kill someone and they have already nearly have! I say kick them out. Don’t let them slow us down with their out of control issues.”

Dogday frowned a little at his brother, rubbing his arms as the air around North slowly started to drop.

“I think that's a little extreme,” came a softer mumble, of a blue tinted dog from across the table. North hadn’t seen much of them- but if he remembered from different files, her name was Dogpressed. “If we were to throw out all and any Critters with powers that could harm- well.. there would be no Space Riders at all…”

Dogbite scoffed, rolling his eyes. “They aren't conscious when this happens there's no self control here!”

“Surveillance then?” Piped in Berry Boo, their large wings curling around themselves nervously. “Or maybe an assigned guard to watch them?”

“A guard would be useless,” North murmured. “The Beast is unpredictable. It shows up whenever, no matter the circumstances- and it gets mad just as fast. The only thing a guard would be able to do is notify surrounding Riders, but other then that, it’s not extremely useful.”

“I agree with Dogbite,” N said, ears flicking forward. “Is it really worth the risk to have such a dangerous asset roaming with nothing to stop them if they get a little mad? I think if we're gonna keep tabs on them, the last place they should be is here.”

Alan’s ears flicked a little, and the tabby grey cat sighed. “Everyone… mostly has a point. Thorn seems to be a double edge sword- how much harm will come to us protecting them and viscera?” He fiddled with his sleeves, frowning. “North is an excellent judge of character, so I trust that Thorn wouldn’t do anything to harm us. As… um..”

Alan squinted at Dogpressed, before just waving with a defeated huff. “She had a good point! We don’t know the limitations of this power. We're Space Riders, we’re meant to protect Critters. I think that we should do our best to help Thorn, then come back and discuss if things aren’t working out.”

“And if we do chuck them out, what about the Prototype?” Silly Billy mused, crossing his arms. “If Ouřa Thorn is already a problem, trying their best to protect us, how much of a problem will they be if the cults get them and abuse that power? Especially if we chuck them out without studying and understanding what their power is.”

Silence filled the table, other than soft mumbles of agreement.

Dogday stood up along side North, smiling at the other Captains. “I say we put them in a crew. Then if we can, we can tame the Beast, and monitor them. They’ll be around trained professionals who deal with issues like these 24/7. And then we do what Alan said- come back to discuss if it’s not working out.”

North smiled, thankful for the sunny dog. “If that's an option- I’ll be more than happy to take Ouřa Thorn into my crew.”

“Alright.” Ludwig spread out his arms, gaining all the Captain’s attention. “Raise your hand if you agree that putting Thorn into a crew to be monitored is a good idea,”

North felt the pressure of the guilt on his chest loosen and more than half of the table rose their hands.

Dogday’s ears twitched a little as the dog tilted his head to the door with a frown, blinking. “Hey, do you guys hear that-?”

BANG-

Thank god to a captain’s usually fast reflexes, as North managed to curl his wing in just in time for one of the two conference doors to be blown off its hinges and to smack into the meeting table, lodging itself there.

Starchild shrieked, having been startled, their feathers fluffing out before they snapped their beak shut.

North blinked, barely hearing the sounds of chaos behind him as he stared at the large, sandy yellow lizard in the doorway.

“Thorn,” North Heat half breathed, before grinning and feeling pricks of tears in the corner of his eyes. “THORN!”

The lizard half blinked the disorientation out of their eyes to see North jogging over to them, eyes widening. “North!!”

Taking the last couple strides Ouřa Thorn ignored North’s useless held out hands, having not knowing what to do with them during his shock- and promptly whisked the dragon off the floor into a slightly too tight hug.

“North- North- North-” Thorn babbled, tears wetting North’s shirt as the lizard held him close. “Your horn- what happened- everything went black and I remember screaming-”

North grabbed Thorn’s face, wheezing through his protesting ribs, “Put me down, Thorn,”

Ouřa Thorn instantly blushed and dropped North Heat back onto his feet, half curling up. It was by then that the Nurse burst in and started to yell angrily about concussions and dizziness, and North finally took note that Thorn was still in a medical gown.

Classic Thorn. North faintly thought. “You go rest up bud. I’ll come see you right after this okay? Ill explain everything,”

Thorn slowly nodded, and then a little faster, affectionately brushing their hand against North’s wings. “Okay.. um. See you soon then.”

“I'll bring Sunny!” North chimed as the Nurse, still scolding, led the lizard back out of the meeting room.

Turning back, North winced a little at the stares of all the other Captains.

“They seem like a nice lad,” Ludwig mused, before brightly chiming. “Alright, Thorn is now under The Ranger’s care. Thank you for your time Captains,”

North watched as the holograms flickered and vanished, smiling to himself.

I did promise I’d fix things.

#♾ art #smiling critters #smiling critters oc #my art #oura thorn #oc #space riders au #space riders oc #oc space riders au #SR! Oura Thorn #North Heat

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thescarletnargacuga · 2 months

Note

Thank you very much I now ship raceway Jax and Gumigoo…..

Now I picture them in the middle of hardcore fighting with Jax just screaming “Kiss me!” Just in the middle of it and then the lock suck faces on the racetrack in the middle of the night……

Me in the middle of writing Chapter 10: I must write this immediately.

GUMMY BUNNY

A RACEWAY AU ONESHOT

Raceway AU by me

WARNING: heated makeout

~~~

"TAKE IT OUTSIDE!" Pomni screamed with annoyance.

Gummigoo and Jax had been arguing since the day's race ended, and everyone was sick of them. The day cycle was long over, most of the others had gone to their rooms just to shut out the bickering men.

"HE STARTED IT!" Gummigoo and Jax pointed at each other, shouting back at Pomni in tandem.

"I don't care who started it, just take your problems where no one else has to listen to you two!" Pomni's eyes glared hard anger at both of them. "We are sick and tired of it! Emphasis on the tired!! Go outside or go to bed!"

"You're not our mother." Jax spat.

"Seriously, Pomni. Why don't you go to bed? The others have." Gummigoo was all fired up, not listening to reason.

"I'll call Caine." Pomni crossed her arms.

Jax and Gummigoo glanced at each other nervously.

"I bet he's in the middle of something right now. He doesn't care to be disturbed. Imagine how upset he'd be if I had to interrupt him over this." Pomni narrowed her eyes, lifting her hand in a snapping pose.

"Now, hold on-" Gummigoo put out his hands.

"Alright! We're leaving." Jax marched for the door, Gummigoo behind him.

Pomni sat back in her recliner with a satisfied smirk. Finally, some quiet.

"Can you believe her?" Gummigoo grumbled.

"She was bluffing. I just didn't want to deal with her any more than I want to deal with you." Jax growled back.

The two walked a ways from the garage to the starting line. It was dormant for the night. Crickets filled the night air with song. The occasional firefly blinked in the grass surrounding the track. The full moon is high in the sky.

"You're going to deal with me, what her you like it or not!" Gummigoo's voice raised again as he grabbed Jax by the back of his tracksuit.

Jax raised an arm as he turned to make Gummigoo let go. "What the [%$!#]!?"

Gummigoo lunged forward, grabbed Jax by the collar and slammed him to the support beam of the start line. The larger gator held strong as Jax tried to get free. "No one here but you and me, mate. You're not going anywhere."

The fury in Gummigoo's eyes was real, that's why Jax's face was colored so darkly. He was angry, a little scared, and unexpectedly enticed by the rough treatment. He struggles to think. The quips that usually came so easily to him died in his throat. He just laughs.

Gummigoo was thrown off by the weird response. "What's so funny?? I literally have you by the neck! I could snap you in two, as scrawny as you are!"

"Oh, I wish you could." Jax laughs more. "If I thought breaking my body would be enough, I would have thrown myself under my own kart a long time ago. You can't do anything that matters. You're an NPC, just another piece of the game."

Hot breath rushed from Gummigoo's flared nostrils like a dragon. "You wanna make this personal? Alright. Your attitude not only leaves you without any friends, but without purpose in this already pointless existence! You're nothing but a nuisance! A thorn in everyone's sides! You cheat, you lie, you taunt, you tease and for WHAT? For a crumb of satisfaction? Pathetic."

Jax stopped laughing. "You wanna repeat that last part, mate?" He mocked.

Gummigoo leaned closer, pale eyes locked on Jax. "You. Are. Pathetic." He repeated himself slowly, emphasizing each word.

Jax's throat went dry. Gummigoo's teeth looked much larger this close. His heart was racing looking into the gators searing white hot eyes. He tried to save face, but not being able to get away and struggling to find words had him cornered. "If you're going to be this close to me, you better kiss me." He said in an empty attempt to get Gummigoo to back off.

Gummigoo was so mad, so far gone, he wasn't going to back down no matter what was said to him. "Nice try." He chuckled darkly. "But that would be giving you what you want, wouldn't it?"

"Wait, what!?" Jax's face flushed entirely. His bravado shattered like sugar glass. Gummigoo had entirely flipped the script and Jax was not ready for it. "It's not-"

"Oh, but it is. Every day, you single me out. Every day, you taunt me. Every DAY, you find an excuse to mess with me personally. Every race, it's just you and me duking it out for 1st. If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a crush." Gummigoo's grip tightened as he slightly closed the gap between their bodies.

Jax started to panic, his ears flattened. "You- you don't know what you're talking about! You're just-! You-!"

The end of Gummigoo's mouth was almost against Jax's, he grinned. "What's the matter, little rabbit? Scared the gator might bite? You should be."

Jax gulped. "You're all talk."

"Care to test that theory?" Gummigoo opened his maw, sharp teeth moving in on Jax's neck.

Jax squirmed. "You sugar coated lunatic! You-!" Jax froze when Gummigoo's teeth came in contact with his skin. He seethed at how good it felt.

Gummigoo could feel Jax's racing pulse. It finally dawned on him what he was doing. His pride wouldn't let him back off first. Jax hadn't told him to stop. He closed his jaws further.

A quiet moan escaped Jax. "Fu-" He panted. "Fine. You win. Just-"

Gummigoo lifted his teeth away. A clawed finger made Jax look at him. "Do you want me to stop?"

The moment of tenderness pissed Jax off all over again. "[%$!#] no! Kiss me already!"

Gummigoo crashed his lips against Jax's, pressing him against the beam with his whole body. Jax wrapped his arms around Gummigoo's neck, grabbing at the back of his head. Gummigoo picked up Jax by the thighs, holding him up against the beam for a better angle. Jax locked his legs around Gummigoo's waist. The kiss was frantic and uncoordinated, saliva dripping from their locked tongues. Gutteral moans from Gummigoo and whimpering groans from Jax was all that was heard over the crickets.

~~~

A/N: anyway, back to chapter 10. 🎶doo, doo, doo🎵

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfiction #tadc pomni #tadc jax #tadc gummigoo #tadc au #raceway au #the amazing digital raceway #jax x gummigoo #gummigoo x jax

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http-paprika · 7 months

Text

IVY AND IRON THORNS

CHAPTER II

a medieval au / sir simon riley x lady reader / 2.7k / warnings descriptions of death, religious imagery, trauma, and an unhealthy response to food. / taglist open

arriving at castle tharn, you are thrust into the startling reality that you are at the mercy of those who govern these unknown lands.

masterlist / chapter III

There’s a dull ache in your head that pools down your throat to the ribs to the stomach and rests in your hips. With every trot of the horse, you are thrown back and forth from heavy exhaustion and startling awareness. While you pretended to sleep under the canopy of stars, you’d heard the quiet murmurings of the knights and what they’d do upon returning to their castle. Dread burrowed deep in your bones as your fate looks as dreary as the morning sky that has been cast with a gray haze of clouds.

The gnawing realization that you’ve fallen from grace, ripped from your place as a lady haunts you every time your eyes close and your stomach twists. A lady of your stature is not supposed to witness horrors you’ve seen, they were not supposed to show the face of humiliation as they arrive in a foreign land. But you fret knowing these knights are leading you to a foreign land and a castle with a lord you do not serve.

Around the company, the pines begin to thin and the hooves fall on a dirt path. Your eyes shutter close and your brows tighten against the gray light of the morning. Even with the sun hidden from your sight, it rivals the dark shadows of the forest. The horse slows along a cliff edge and you cower away from the plunge with its roaring waters and rocks below.

“There she is, Castle Tharn.” Simon directs you, his arm stretched out to the north. Set above the valley of rivers, marshes, and wild green, you can see the dark structure silhouetted. Turrets reach the sky behind fortified walls, and a deep river isolates the castle from the valley. It causes you to shiver in your seat, an unwelcoming sight built like a fort to keep out any unwanted visitors and keep in any prisoners.

Full of excitement to return to their grazing grounds, the horses make haste as they’re led down the cliff path and trot into the valley. Over streams and babbling brooks, past hamlets and homesteads where the people stop and watch the knights return. You exhale as you catch a sense of familiarity in their architecture and clothes, so similar to the servants who filled your home and the villagers you met when you were allowed out of the castle.

There’s a jolt of relief when the hooves fall onto a cobbled road, it leads over a wide river that roars as it splits over stones and falls under the bridge. You glimpse your wavering image in the wild waters, before looking up at the flagpoles, flying high with vibrant dark greens and reds. It feels cold compared to the one of your home, you miss the warm yellows and oranges.

Guards in the watchtower shout at your arrival, raising the portcullis as news spreads through the walls and rooms of the return. You pass under the heavy iron gate, looking back disheartened as you watch it lower and shut you off from the rest of the world. Left to the mercy of those who run the grand estate with its ivy-covered walls, blooming bushes of roses, tall stained glass windows, and faded banners. The whole castle’s alive, bursting at the seams with pride as servants and soldiers move through the bailey.

Simon dismounts from the horse, offering his hand to help you down. He’s careful of your sprained wrist and makes sure your feet are steady before dropping his hands to the sides of his armor. You wrap your arms around your chest and tug your cloak closer in an attempt to cover yourself as people join the knights. A stable boy takes the mares away and you listen as John begins to loudly boast about the bandits they’d slain. Women and men alike peer at you when John makes your presence known, and you shrink away almost bumping into Simon in your cowering.

“Come, let’s get you settled for the night,” Simon orders, gesturing you to follow him. Together, you ascend a side set of stairs into the castle. In the dim interior of the castle, servants stare and whisper amongst themselves. Girls who must be no older than you giggle at your disheveled appearance and what little pride you have left makes your cheeks burn with shame.

You enter into a large kitchen, busy and filled with an air of urgency as food is prepared. Barrels of grains and fruits are stacked along the wall, a goose turns on a spit in the fire that crackles happily in a large hearth. Women bustle around, taking orders from a plump and rosy-cheeked woman whose eyes flash when she spots intruders in her kitchen.

“Ach! What have I told you dirty boys about coming into my kitchen while I’m working, Sir Riley?” The woman berates the knight as she comes up to him, swatting at him with a cloth. But upon seeing you in such a state, wide-eyed and ashamed, she lets out a sigh. “What have you done to the poor girl?”

“I’d tell you if you’d let me speak,” Simon says, plucking up a plum from a bowl and shining it. “Found her while out on patrol with John, Mrs. MacTavish. She needs to be looked after, she’ll see Lord Price in the morning.”

“Well, anything for the poor lamb.” The woman takes your arm and offers you a smile. Warm and inviting compared to the stares you’ve received upon entering the castle. “But, Sir Riley, you tell my son that he is in trouble with his father, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods, turning to leave you and the kitchen without another thought.

“You’re leaving me?” You call out, naively thinking the knight would stay by your side. Afraid to be left alone in the presence of another stranger, a shyness you’ve never known dawning on you.

“I’m a knight, not a nursemaid. I have duties to attend to.” Simon responds with a firm tone, like a father scolding a child. The knight bows his head to you before returning down the hall you’d just walked through, leaving you in Mrs. MacTavish’s care.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Lamb.” She says, walking you out of the kitchen after she finishes instructing the women for dinner preparation. “Have you got a name, or should I give you one?”

Mumbling your words together, you tell her your name. With hesitation, you hide your status as a lady from her, feeling wrong to address yourself with the name and title that had belonged to your mother. Even if you consider the treatment you might receive brandishing the name.

“Well, you must have had quite the journey, no? I’m sure you’re more than ready to rest.” She asks, slowing her pace and stopping in front of an oak door. The keys on the wrought iron ring jingle as Mrs. MacTavish picks through them, finding the right one and twisting it in the lock.

You follow into the room which is decorated lavishly, a guest room prepared for only the most prestigious of company. Slowly turning to look over the room, you’re horrified by your appearance when you see yourself in the looking glass. Hair in a tangle, dirt and blood clinging to your skin, and your favorite dress shredded into scraps. Unable to look away, the woman hums a tune as she sets to work making a fire in the hearth. When you finally tear your eyes away, she’s left to fetch water for the bath and you slump onto a creaking stool and sit in the unwelcome silence.

Your mind feels at war with grief and fear fighting against the rage as you question why this happened to you. Why had you been stricken down and left to drown in a sea of loss? Such a divine punishment that made you feel like Job, abandoned by God with no money and no prospects. Everything you held dear, your future and dreams are unraveling like a beautiful tapestry torn through, destroying the foolish hopes you had for bliss. After all, what peace could come from this?

The door opens and you startle up, like a deer hearing a hunter. But your shoulders slump again when Mrs. MacTavish returns with buckets of steaming water. She tells you of the castle and its Lord and Lady whilst preparing your bath, singing praises for those who govern the lands. It’s so endearing that you wince remembering the bleak mutters of those who served under your father, the endless strings of complaints when they thought that no nobles were listening in.

“So, lamb, do you want to tell me how you ended up in the care of our knights?” She asks once the bath is drawn and you’re sinking into the hot water. You let it sting and spill over your skin as her calloused hands massage soap into your hair. Mrs. MacTavish works with care, making sure the soap doesn’t spill into your eyes and that you’re comfortable, just like your mother had done with you were a child.

Bloodshot eyes begin to sting with tears at her question and kindness. A sob quakes through your ribs as you bury your face in your damp hands, the hot water suddenly feeling like ice to you. Like a child who’s fallen from a tree and hurt themselves, you’re wailing for your mother but she cannot save you from this.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

By the time you’ve stopped crying, you are alone in the room dressed in a warm, brown flock. There’s a longing to be dressed in black, wishing you could partake in the mourning ritual for your mother though there will be no burial. In vein, you try to recount what the church instructed upon the death of a righteous person. But you feel foolish and disrespectful knowing you cannot give your mother the courtesy she deserves.

You wonder when your father will hear the news, and when he will come and comfort you in this time. The hope of a reunion seems foolish, the idea of grieving alongside the only living member of your bloodline is folly as the confines of the castle are chaining you in. A fear blooms in your chest that you’ll never find the sun again.

The sounds of the fire dying in your idleness fill the room, playing a pitiful song along with your hollow breaths and your nails digging into the plush quilt and animal pelts on top of the bed. The soft feather mattress is a welcome relief from the nights tossed to and fro in the carriage or the dirt under the open sky. And finely woven drapes shield your face from the fading light of the fire as you curl up like a kitten.

As sleep begins to invade your mind, quiet knocks startle you out of the daze. Lazily you rub at your eyes as another knock sounds against the oak door. Finding the strength to stand and covering yourself with a robe Mrs. MacTavish had left, you force yourself out of the warm comfort and find the door in the fading light, the oil lamp in the room having been ignored.

Creaking on its hinges, you blink up at the masked face of Simon. Curiously you wonder if he ever removes the black cloth as you let him into the room and he steps in with a word. In his hand, Simon carries a plate of food covered by a linen towel. Moving through the room, he sets it down on the tea table next to the stool.

Still silent, he directs you to sit down on the stool. And not having the strength to argue, you listen and sit down, smoothing the rough fabric of your smock. “Mrs. MacTavish said you declined dinner.”

With a nod, you glance over at the covered dinner as the smell wafts through the room and causes your mouth to water and tickle your nose. But your mind is refuses to give in, willing your tongue to dry and throat tighten. Painfully stubborn even in a time like this.

“It’s not poisoned. Eat.” Simon orders, uncovering the wooden plate and setting the lcloth aside. Your eyes gleam at the sight of ham, steamed vegetables, fresh slices of bread, and a ripe, red apple that shines even in the dull light. But you make no move to eat, hesitating under the watchful eye of the knight. “You shouldn’t starve yourself. What would your mother think to see you depriving yourself?”

His words feel like an infliction, striking like a whip and pulling at your flesh with a sting. It enrages you even if you know his words are true. She would be grievanced at the sight of you in such a state, eyes dried red, cheeks stained and skin gaunt. You feel as close to a corpse with a beating heart. But still his statement drives you mad, making your mouth sour in distaste.

“Do not speak of my mother! You know nothing about her, nothing about the loss I’ve witnessed!” You speak out, jumping from the stool to glare at the knight despite his intimidating stature. For a moment, his eyes flash with anger and his hands tighten into fists. But Simon does not rebuke your nor does he strike like you anticipate.

Instead, he takes his place on the stool, reaching over for the beautiful, fresh apple from the plate. A sliver knife is brought into the light, no longer hidden away in his garments, and he begins to cut at the fruit. So ripe, the juices run down the blade and into his gloved palm, appeitizing to the eyes as you watch.

“You’re right, I did not know your mother. But I’m well acquainted with the loss you’ve come to know.” Simon admits, stretching out his palm with an apple slice to you in offering. “And I know starving yourself won’t ease the grief or guilt. It’ll only make it worse.”

Your lip pushes out with a frown, but you steady your hand and accept the fruit. The taste fills your mouth with sweetness, flourishing your senses as you take the fill. He continues to slice up the fruit, precise and neat with each cut until all that remains is the sour core that Simon places on the plate alongside the other foods he allows to grow cold. Never pushing you too far.

“I’m sorry, I spoke out of place.” You apologize, dropping your gaze to your borrowed slippers. Blaming the hunger, you’re certain thats what made you so erratic, appauled by your abhorrent behavior to the knight. Even if you were in this fortress against your will, they’ve treated you with nothing less than kindness. They’ve fed, bathed, and dressed you, Simon proved to be a man of chivalry, seeing to your wounds and wellness when you did not ask.

“Don’t apologize.” He responds, wiping off his gloves and standing from the stool with a grunt. Simon turns to the fire, adding another log and bringing it back to life before turning to leave. “Get some rest, you’ll meet with the Lord in the morning. I’ll make sure breakfast is brought and a knight comes to escort you. Lock the door when I’m gone.”

“Of course,” You mutter as he passes by the fire, eclipsing your vision as you watch his silhouette leave you. The door creaks again, shutting heavily behind him. Following his instructions, you bolt it close and rub your hands against the old ironwork that locks you inside. A thin veil of security over in your mind.

But your knees still buckle with fear, you sink on the stone floor and pull your knees to your chest. Though there are no tears left to cry, you still grieve. “This shouldn’t have happened, what am I going to do? I know nothing!”

All those years of being coddled and running about the gardens like a fool have left you defenseless and confused. You are not in the state of mind to believe that there is a chance of negotiating your freedom with the Lord of the castle. The arguments you’d had with your mother and nursemaid did not prepare you for a time like this. Not even empty prayers bring you hope as you drag yourself from the ground. Could God himself even save you?

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