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unabashednightmarepizza · 10 months

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Hiii could you make a dating Talbott Winger headcannons I love him so much and I really think he’d be like the I hate everyone but you trope

A/N: I'm sorry that it took such a long time for me to write but I was battling with stress and life lately, and now that I'm fine, I started to have so many ideas but I need to finish request and write the chapters that had been waiting for ages in my documents lol.

And thank you everyone, who waited patiently!

P.S: I don't remember whne this ask was sent so I'm gonna put this on my "Summer Celebration" post!

Requests are OPEN!

𝐷𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑇𝑎𝑙𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝐼𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑠...

We all know Talbott is a silent boy, he prefers to stay away from trouble unlike a certain person that has his interest, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't have an adventurous side of him.

Yet, I still believe that he likes to have some kind of... control? When doing something? Like, yeah, he takes risks.

Just not extreme risks

Or, if you were to introduce him to some muggle vehicles, I think he would love to ride a bike with you and watch as your laugh would be carried to hus ears as the sight of you all happy and glowing would consume him.

Yeah, our boi definetly has a way with words.

Except the point that he made you swear to never talk about the first time he tried it as you showed how to bike, and he fell hard while being busy admiring you in return.

You, of course, accepted it with a giggle but not without crossing your finger because Bill demanded he had to know everything about your date.

He also swoons whenever you beat someone's ass in dueling. There were many times you rocked people's shits, especially Merula's since she always demanded one only to loose, to the point that no one actually stood a chance against you and refused to train.

Proud boyfriend Talbott and proud mama Bill moment 🥺😭

Like really, there isn't something you would do/make that he wouldn't be proud of and supportive

Crochet? Amazing, could you make a hat or a swan plushie? Draw? Excellent! Maybe you could teach me a few things, dove? You want to deceive the first years by playing an innocent game? Well, it's not like him... But he would be down with it anyways, especially after the ultimate "puppy eyes" weapon.

For some reasons, I see his whole vibe with you as Harry Style's "Golden" song 😭😭🥰🥰

It's literally the song that phrases your relationship!

"I know you were way too bright for me/ I'm hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky..."

" Don't wanna let you know I don't wanna be alone/ But I can feel it take a hold, I can feel it take a hold..."

"I can feel you take control, I can feel you take control/ Of who I am, and all I've ever known lovin' you's the antidote..."

Since he didn't have his parents from a young age, and that they were killed right in front of him, Talbott had difficulties with associating himself with people around him.

That doesn't mean he hated them, or didn't want to talk. He did, he really did... He just didn't know how, and was scared that they would be gone too.

Especially early in your "friendship" that he often denied, but secretly liked the taste of the word on his tongue, he pushed and pushed people away, especially you... until only he was left.

But hey, it was a good thing that you were a persistent little shit because not only you were able to befriend him and show the true colors of life, show him that many people cared about him, you also took his heart and soul for yourself... like, for good.

Yeah, Talbott is definetly one of those rare guys who would stay loyal to his partner until the day he died and then even more.

If there was one thing you never expected from him by how he seemed so reserved, it was the fact that he was clingy when alone. Like, eagle boy would do anything to cuddle, hold hands with you, kiss and hug and do anything you ask for.

His hand holding is much more frequent than other forms of PDA. Talbott isn't very keen on them, since he hates attention, but hand holding under the table disecretly happens a lot.

He sits with you during breakfast and dinner, evennif you were in a different house, and your friends tease you for it affectionately.

He especially hold your hand thightly when he feels overwhelmed, or sad because of remembering his mother... to feel grounded, because he often feels like he lives in auto mode where he doesn't actually know what he is doing and doesn't have control.

That's when you step in.

When that happens, and Talbott usually tries to make it all go away through drowning himself in his studies, you would often look for him in thr library. But since he didn't want you to disturb your own peace just to find him, and he also didn't want to be found in a fragile state, he would go for less predictable areas.

He knew it saddened you whenever he refused to talk about his problems, he was aware and it broke his heart too... But he was scared.

You were the best thing that happened to him, even when he thought and still thinks he wasn't worth being loved, even when he thought he wouldn't find any ounce of happiness... Because why would he? He didn't have anyone left from his family at such a young age, his other relatives didn't care much and he was bad at socialising.

He fought and fought, but for what?

But then you came, stubbornly wanting to be his friend... Alongside the huge friend group you brought, and now he had a lot to loose but also a lot he gained.

He didn't understand why someone like you, the hero of Hogwarts, would find anything in him to activelly seek out to be friends with him...

But whatever it was, he was glad. Glad for your stubborn heart, glad because thanks to you, he found a new family.

You healed his aching heart with your sweet smiles, reassuring words and selflessness. Slowly but surely, you settled deep in his heart and after time, he realized he loved you... Immensely.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment obviously, but maybe... he always loved you, while watching from afar... While you won Quidditch, solved the mysteries about the Vaults, saved the school one many times... Or how you achieved more than average witch in your age, or how you risked your whole school life just to help him find the necklace of his mother.

Perhaps he realized right then and there that yes, he was in love with you and yes, he was already too deep to get out of that hole that was love.

And he didn't want to, for he was used to darkness when you came with the light of your eyes and heart, and saved him.

He could never be that boy he once was, and he didn't want to. Because now, he had you and a future to hold on to.

You both were the ones who confessed first, under the night sky as you both blushed at the cliche sight but you were content, happy to call this amazing, kind, thoughful and strong boy your lover.

Like I said before, there are a lot of things he wants to do with you: Travel together, have late night dinner dates, go to a beach, have a little cabin at the outskirts of Scotland...

But above all... There is one thing he wants to do with you the most one thing that often has him blushing and unable to sleep.

Grow old with you.

NOW TO THE FUN PART, ENOUGH DEPRESSING

Whenever you try to find him, out of class and studying sessions you both have, he is in the Owlery and all the owl LOVES him! Like really, whenever you two hang out in the school grounds, a flock of them comes and finds him and perches on both of your shoulders happily while picking on your hairs or hiding behind them in a way of playing with you.

He loves jewelries, mostly necklaces and bracelets, so whenever you buy something for yourself, he demands one too.

And he also loves matching with you too, so any necklaces, he's matching with you. It's one of the subtle ways of telling everyone that you/he was taken.

All the teachers and your friends knew you two would be end game, from how in love you both seemed and how Talbott started to smile genuinely after such a long time.

But what sealed it for you both was when he asked you to come to the Owlery, that he had an important thing to say and hive to you.

Imagine your surprise when he looked at you so softly and offered the necklace that had his mother's swan feather, accompanied with the pendants of his initials.

"This necklace used to be the sign of all the things I lost, a reminder of death... But I know my mum would have wanted you to have it, the girl who means so much to me, who I imagine my life to be spent with... I want this to be the sign of our love and my loyalty to you, for you to carry on your neck and hopefully never take it out... If you will have it and me..."

Like I said, he is a one-woman kind of boy and when you start a relationship and things started to get serious and deep, Talbott wouldn't shy away from hinting at marriage and a life together.

Because if this didn't show you the depth of his love, I don't know what would.

Another cute gesture he does with you, especially in like 6th or 7th year, is to wrap his arms around you from behind and put his chin on top of your head after laying a tender kiss there. ( why do boys get so much taller in like a few months when I'm stuck at the same height for the rest of my life 😭)

You two often visit and stay until late in the Owlery. That place had become some kind of a safe space for you both, where you can be with each other in silent, read books or simply feed the owls happily.

OMG HIS FAVOURITE WAY OF SPENDING TIME WITH YOU IS READING ❤️😍

You liked reading books by yourself, but when your boyfriend had a raspy voice and was food at imitations of the characters, you didn't have to do anything except laying back on his chest as you buried yourself in his smell as he read to you, thightenung his hold on your frame.

But just as you loved being read to, he actually likes it as well. He is just bad at showing and telling that. But whenever you see him looking at a book, then at you with a pout, you know what he wants.

And who were you to deny him of that when he looked so cute?

Madam Pince, even though she resented you for pranking her and was close to banning you from the library, was now looking at you and your boyfriend softly because one, you finally weren't there to break the rules but rather trully reading and two, you also helped her clean the library with Talbott too.

But none of you needed to know.

Now that I mentioned her, all the teachers have had bets about your love life. Like when one of you will confess, when you will have a kiss, when you will have a date etc.

And quite creepily, Minerva and Flitwick almost all the time knows when and where and wins quite a few galleons.

Snape couldn't care less, because he hated your guts... Or mayyybee he was slightly interested since you gifted him a cake and offered good mornings every day even though he would snap and he started to not hate you but just dislike.

Sprout was just happy to see her two favourite students together, alongside with Minerva, and offered her blessing with an enchanted flower that would never wilt.

But Dumbledore? Oh, he always knew from the start and didn't bother with such childish act... but he had bets going on with others in the ministry soo~ (Don't get me wrong, I still hate him.)

You know when Hermione said that girls could get in boys' dormitory but they couldn't enter girls'?

Yeah, there were many times you did that, at the beginning for cuddles... And later in your last year, for different things *wink wink*

Ehem, another act he loves doing are ( and I need to say, if a man did that to me, I would simply melt) taking your hand in his and putting it on his chest, where his heart is and kissing your forehead and lingering his lips there for a few seconds more.

Just imagine the feels and how hard your heart would beat I-

FLOWERS! YOU BOTH GIVE EACH OTHER FLOWERS ALL THE TIME!

You giving him flowers actually has a funny story because you thought he wouldn't like them, especially early in your relationship

But you couldn't help but think that daisies would look good on his dark, long hair

So you hastily went to Hogsmeade, came back in a hurry and sent a letter to him through your owl to meet you in the Owlery

It was definetly worth seeing the dark red tint on his skin when tou explained why you wanted to give him them

"I wanted to show you that I care and love you a lot, and flowers are a great way to show it, especially since I enchanted them!.. And by your reaction, I'll do that more in the future!"

And yes, you did so... Even after being married for such a long time, eventually having kid/s and in your 60-70

And he never stopped blushing and returning the gesture just as sweetly, always adding a little blessing and thanks to Merlin for bringing you into his life

This headcanons are already taking so long so I'll stop here before it gets out of control lol

And I'll go and continue crying at the corner because I don't have a Talbott in my life 🥺

#talbott winger #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott x mc #hphm talbott #talbott x reader #talbott winger x reader #talbott winger x mc #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts game #SUMMER CELEBRATION🏖

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bxttxrflybxddie · 2 years

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omgggg hcs for himbo malewife brett!!! (would be be a house husband??) 🥺🥺

|Brett Hand as a House Husband|

a/n: BRETT!! ugh i love him sm and ty for requesting! also sorry that this took WAY too long, i havent rewatched inside job since like december 😭 ty for reading!

pairing: househusband! malewife! brett hand x pregnant! afab! reader

post type: headcanons + some drabble

requested: yes!

word count: 1.2k

warnings: afab reader but gender neutral, pre-established relationship, pre-established marriage, mentions of pregnancy and BIRTH, slight angst! (brett's familial trauma mention), FLUFF, fambly, use of mommy when describing reader but like not seriously yfm

ever since his family left him, something he's desperately wanted was to bring some good into the world and prove to himself that he would never be like — be better than them

because a negative and a positive are better than nothing

so, when the day came when you both found out you were pregnant, he was ECSTATIC

if you work at Cognito Inc, he'll break the news to everyone before you even have the chance 😭

you take one (1) day off because you're not feeling well and your phone buzzes every minute w a new text from your coworkers

pleaseee don't be mad he's just very excited !!

if you don't work with everyone, he's still gonna gush about it to The Gang™️

"and this is a photo of (name) and i right after we found out!!"

"brett this is the 16th time today you've showed me that picture"

no matter what he's gonna beg you to take maternity leave as soon as possible

then he can finally spoil you !!! please dear reader let him take care of you while you're pregnant 🥲 it's his love language

as much as he wants to be a good father, he knows that he doesn't know what to do when it comes to 'Good Father Experiences'

^ he DEFINITELY tells his therapist about the pregnancy! they know about his trauma and parental fears, they're so proud of him!

it's one thing to want something and it's something completely different to take the leap!!

brett starts working (even more) overtime in preparation for the little baby

he tries to balance the world on his shoulders; you're giving him a BLOODLINE, you're not allowed to lift a finger!!

after a serious talk about how this makes you feel, he'll back off and take tiny, short break

towards the end of your pregnancy, when the baby's arrival is right around the corner, something in brett switches

his domestic dreams and desires to be seen as useful combine into a very plausible reality of staying at home and taking care of the family

taking care of your family

of course he still has his job, but he doesn't really need it; he's saved a lot of money throughout the years!

he can be a good house husband for you !! cook and clean for you while you work hard at your job !!

a part of brett wants to give the little cutie everything he didn't get as a child; an unconditional amount of love and an unfaltering support system

mr. hand will not so subtly drop hints about his wants for the future

it's early morning; approximately 5 am. the deep purple of the sky seeps its way into your shared room. the crib standing out as the new addition.

your ginger husband holds you. his warm and built chest against your back as you lay on his left arm. his right hand running it's thumb over your grown belly. the three of you awake (the little one making sure of that) but not up, admiring the peace before the day begins.

"i'm so lucky." he whispers; you can hear his golden smile in the way he talks. "i can't wait to be a good father."

"really?" you ask. sarcasm is heavy with your tone; but there isn't any menace behind it. you already know he's going to be amazing.

"mhmm." his hand cups ever-so-slightly. he does this when he talks to the baby. "i'll cook you yummy dinners, help with homework, go to your games- or recitals- or concerts!, help pick up your toys, play catch, everything. and anything."

he hums adoringly and holds you closer. it's in that moment you just know.

he's panicky when it's go time. he has the brown, paper sack for breathing, and the bags filled of everything (the internet said you needed) for the hospital.

the delivery was LONG but the baby arrived all safe and sound!

you and brett shed quite a few tears upon seeing the entirely new person the both of you created

he was SOBBING

the first couple of nights were really rough; especially when it came to adapting to the new sleeping schedule (or lack of)

but as time went on, the two of you learned!! and the experience became easier

the baby likes to eat!! a lot!!!

brett takes the night shift when it comes to feedings and changings, he insists!

when the baby just wants to cuddle at 2am, you can hear brett humming while rocking them

"you'll never know, dear, how much i love you."

you flutter open your eyes to see the golden light of the lamp illuminate your husband. his attention completely on your comforted baby in his arms. a soft smile found it's way onto your unenergized face.

"please don't take my sunshine away."

once it's been a few months, brett has to make the decision on wether or not to go through with completely quitting his job and taking care of your little family

he wants to. every cell in his body is screaming at him to take the plunge and never look back!!

but he works for the government in all it's evil glory, would they even allow him to quit?

he calls reagan and asks for advice. she's his bestie and would definitely at least give good advice.

unfortunately this is where he finds out that only way to leave his job is to get fired 😭 just because of how much of a huge secret it is

he quickly thinks of ways to make that happen before deciding otherwise

but !! she tells him that since he's pretty enough, he could convince JR to let him work from home. most of his job is inspiring his co-workers and he doesn't always need to be in person to do that

after begging on his knees, sobbing having a serious discussion about the future, brett's able to work from home!!

there is one condition; the children and the workplace must stay SEPARATED

cognito inc. can't afford another mr. ridley situation

brett and jr shake on it

he won't lie he doesn't like not being able to have 100% free time with the family :( but 2 incomes are better than 1 in the long run

speaking of the workplace The Gang™️ LOVES hearing stories about your baby

especially Gigi!! i personally hc she has some experience with kiddos herself so she loves to listen and give advice!!

glenn also gives advice but.....brett don't take it pls

myc reads brett's mind sometimes to see if he thinks abt you and the baby as much as he talks about you two and the answers YES

andre makes sex jokes abt you and brett CONSTANTLY

"ehehehehe. you've seen their mommy milkers."

"don't say that, a-dog :( what the heck, man."

aunt reagan comes over and babysits frequently!! she also spoils your kiddo(s) often lol if they pick up a passion for machinery she is by their side in a heartbeat!

brett is an amazing father overall as he promised!! from the newborn stage he's been listening, learning, and always tries to improve himself and his fatherly skills

he bandages any boo-boos

reads them to sleep before tucking them in

helping them do their hair in the morning before preschool

he already wants more children 😭 calm down sir

walking through your front door after work to be welcomed by hugs and giggles is a dream

and for brett, a dream come true

especially when he gets to hear you say the most cliché, magical words he's always wanted to hear

"honey! i'm home!"

#inside job #brett hand #x reader #x you #fluff #malewife #house husband #brett hand x reader #headcanons #drabble #pregnancy #birth #king i love him sm #THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭

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mint-yooxgi · 3 months

Text

{2} - Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 9,105

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist - Part One

It’s early one morning when the redcap encampment explodes in an uproar. The sun has barely crested over the hills when a cry rings out, echoed by another, and then another until Mingi can no longer hear himself think.

“Quiet!” His voice booms out over the encampment as he steps out of his tent, silencing everyone in their path. “What is the meaning of this?”

“General!” A gleeful voice cuts through the silence. “General, it’s the human!”

Mingi’s eyebrows raise, eyes widening slightly in exasperation as he watches both Darius and Lias approach with grins wide enough to showcase their sharp teeth.

“She’s gone.” Darius snickers, his tongue darting out to trace over his top row of teeth.

“Speak clearly.” Mingi commands, his brow furrowing as he stares down at the two redcaps before him.

“We don’t know exactly what or when it happened, General,” Lias is quick to say, his eyes shining in glee. “All we do know is that she’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Mingi looks between the two fae, lips pulling back in a snarl. The last thing he needs is to be carting around a dead human until they can properly dispose of the body. That, or his men tearing into your flesh because they got ‘hungry’.

“She ran away.” Another voice cuts through the looming silence, and all heads turn to see Windfel holding the tattered remains of your clothing.

This… this is somehow worse.

“The human tricked us?” A voice of disbelief rises in the crowd.

“She couldn’t have gotten far.” Another says, many beginning to stir as some already begin to look around the area in search of you.

“Who was the last to see her?” Mingi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Great. Just what he needs. Another setback to keep him from returning home to his keep, where he so badly wants to be. He knew this human would be trouble, and now he has to worry about going to find her.

All eyes turn to Windfel as he tosses your worn clothes to the ground. “She stunk so badly, I told her to change.”

“She must have slipped away at that point!” Lias growls, his teeth snapping together in ire.

“When was this?” Mingi rounds on Windfel.

“Not three days passed.” Comes Windfel’s reply.

Silence so deadly settles over the encampment that no one dares to breathe.

“She’s been missing for three days?” The loud timbre of Mingi’s shout causes a flock of birds to take off in the distance.

Windfel cowers back, taking note of the snarls now sent his way by both Lias and Darius. “I told her to wash herself in the stream and change. I returned with her clothes, but they must have been enough to overpower the senses.”

“She never returned?” A voice from the gathered redcaps shouts.

“I wasn’t about to watch her bathe!” Windfel shouts in defence of himself.

“You trusted a human to go off on their own?” Another calls out in disbelief.

More and more cries of outrage rise through the crowd. Seeing as the human was their responsibility and you’ve now escaped, each and every single one of them knows what this means. Yet, none want to waste their time taking a detour to find you, even if they would get the immense satisfaction of ending your pathetic excuse of a life. None, except for one.

“I’ll go.” Windfel drops to his knees before his general, bowing his head to the ground. “Let me amend my mistake and rid us of this pest once and for all.”

“No.” Mingi’s voice is firm, and his response garners a few shocked exclamations from the gathered redcaps. “Since I can’t seem to trust any of you to watch over one measly little human, I’ll go.”

“But General-“

“Return to the keep.” Mingi cuts Windfel off, his tone leaving no room for arguments. “I’ll be back soon.”

Without another word, or even waiting to hear an ounce of protest, Mingi takes off into the woods, back in the direction in which they came. He’ll travel faster alone, especially if he travels light. The sooner he gets this done, the sooner he can put this all behind him. Perhaps he’ll even dispose of you while he has the chance.

Stomping his way through the bush, Mingi curses his subordinates. The only reason he agreed to take you in in the first place was so that they could have fun. They wanted you to do who knows what to, and he allowed it.

That was his first mistake.

As Mingi soon disappears from sight, all that follow after him are the sounds of his encampment bursting back into action, and a wicked grin pulling over blood red lips.

***

Seonghwa is infuriating.

Nothing gets Mingi’s blood boiling as much as that smug faerie and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude. Talking with him is like pulling teeth. Though, in actuality, Mingi quite prefers that. At least pulling out someone else’s teeth can be enjoyable!

A full day and a half has passed since Mingi set off on this hunt, and so far, all he’s learned is that you passed through this town, and took a dip in the wild stream. If his guess is to be correct, it shouldn’t take him that much longer to find you. Being both injured and human, you can’t have gotten far. Besides, this is the direction your scent lingers in, and though it’s faint, he knows that this is most likely the way to go.

What’s even more irritating is that you smell faintly of Windfel. The two scents mix together in an unnatural aroma, guiding Mingi through the bush as he stomps his was through the forest and towards where you must be hiding.

In the back of his mind, he wonders if you know he’s coming after you. Are you scared? Do you think you have any chance of escape? Will your panic cause you to make a mistake? Is he already too late?

Stupid Seonghwa wasting his time with games. Yet, what surprises him most is the fact that the faerie even involved himself. Ever since the incident, the elder fae has changed significantly. At least, that’s what Mingi has been told. He never knew Seonghwa before meeting him how he is now, and currently, that’s the least of Mingi’s worries.

Perhaps he’ll take a page out of the faerie’s notebook and stop outwardly caring about those around him. Only involving oneself to their own benefit does have its perks. He could simply stick to hunting and ravaging, both of which he’s quite good at.

Mingi has always prided himself on his tracking skills. Not only is he a fast hunter, but he’s thorough. Not a trace will be left of you once he finishes, and he’ll finally be rid of this irritating side quest once he catches up to you. If you’re still alive, that is. It really all depends on the state in which he finds you in. There’s no telling what could happen to an unaccompanied human in this realm. Maybe he’ll get lucky and find you already torn to shreds, saving him both the time and energy of having to bring you back.

Yes, Mingi could just kill you, but where’s the fun in that? He much rather prefers when his prey fights back, and against a human, there’s no fight at all. Mingi easily overpowers you, and bathing the band currently tied around his upper arm in your blood would be a waste.

No real general prides themselves on an easy kill, least of all him.

Taking a deep breath in, Mingi calms his nerves. Though he’s irritated, he knows he’ll think better with a clear mind. You’re close, he can almost taste it. It won’t be long now, and soon, he’ll be able to finally determine your fate.

After another full day and a half of travel, Mingi finally spots you through a thicket of trees. You seem to be sitting on the ground, your back resting against the trunk as your sleep. Your hands are clasped over your stomach, legs outstretched in front of you as if you have not a care in the world. In your hands, a lone flower stem rests.

Furrowing his brow, Mingi picks up his pace. Like hell is he going to let you get away from him now. Not when he’s spent the last five days hunting you down. It’s been a parade of none stop walking, tracking your every movement until all paths lead him here. Oddly enough, it looks as if you’ve been placed on display, as if someone has set a trap…

Mingi freezes in his spot, using the thicket of trees as cover. His lips pull back over his fangs in a snarl, nearly letting out a low growl.

That’s when the smell hits him.

He freezes, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he gazes upon your seemingly peaceful figure laying against that one tree. Now that he’s closer, he can see that the flower held in your clasped hands is a sprig of red spider lilies, and he scowls.

You reek of decay. Of infection.

Of death.

Were it not for the faint beating of your heart he can still hear echoing throughout the empty woods as he focusses in on you, he would have believed you have already died. Not that you aren’t already inches from death’s door at this very moment.

Taking a deep breath in, Mingi crinkles his nose. He doesn’t try to mask his approaching footsteps now, each stomp crashing through the bush as his sharp gaze zeroes in on you.

He watches you crack an eye open, hearing you hum softly.

“Oh,” your voice is hoarse. Weak. “It’s you.”

Mingi’s eyes flash, a low growl permeating the air.

“Are you here to finally kill me?” Your voice crackles from lack of use, taking in a harsh breath in attempts to fill your aching lungs.

It’s as if it’s getting harder and harder for you to breathe, your chest rising and falling much slower than what Mingi is used to. He’s surprised you’ve lasted this long on your own, being both human and severely injured from the looks of things. The fact that you reek of infection is an obvious side effect from the wild stream. No being escapes those waters unharmed. You should be shrivelled up, gasping for water and air by now, but there seems to be some fight left in you still.

“Hurry up and get it over with,” you continue to fill the silence stretching on around you, settling slightly further back into the tree you rest upon as you close your eyes.

“I’m not here to kill you.” Mingi replies gruffly, that frown still pulling at his features as he glares down at you.

You hum lowly. “Shame.”

“Do you wish to die, human?” Mingi’s nose scrunches, the stench even worse the closer he stands to you. “You stink of death.”

“I feel like death,” you agree, eyes still shut. “Or maybe I’m already dead. Hell’s not so bad after all.”

“Why didn’t you run?” Mingi counters, eyes narrowing warily at you. He keeps a little bit of distance between the two of you still, unsure if this is a trick or not. Though, he doubts you could overpower him in the slightest. “Surely you knew you were being hunted.”

“Whispers,” you wheeze, chest heaving as you begin to hack out a cough. Your whole body violently jerks, eyes squeezing further shut as your face contorts in pain. “Always whispers.”

Mingi crouches down, observing you carefully. “You should be dead.”

Weakly, you shake your head. “Never dead. Always dying.”

Another cough wracks your whole body, and Mingi sighs. “Frail little human, can barely handle the wind.”

“You’d be surprised what I’ve survived.” Your eyes are suddenly sharp, lips parted as each breath escapes you as a wheeze.

He can’t help it. Mingi laughs. A loud, boisterous laugh that causes him to toss his head back, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“If this is your attempt to make yourself sound tough, all it’s doing is amusing me, mortal.” Mingi grins, his fangs flashing beneath the eerie glow of the moon.

The canopy you both reside under is abnormally bright, letting you see the redcap general in all his glory. Claws rest on the tips of his fingers, filed and polished to perfection. Teeth as sharp as razors line the inside of his lips, of which are now pulled back in amusement as his dark eyes glint in the moonlight. His ears, which taper off into points, are slightly hidden behind bright blond locks, the faintest of hues of red splattered throughout the strands.

“Get up. We’re returning to the keep.” Mingi stands back to his full height, looming over you as he lets out a sigh through his nose. “I’m not making another detour for you again.”

You don’t respond.

“Get up. Before I make you.” He snarls, kicking your left foot with the tip of his own.

Still, you don’t respond. You don’t even flinch when he touches you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake-“ Mingi goes to haul you upwards and onto your feet, only to stop cold in his tracks.

Slowly, the hands you had resting on your stomach begin to slide to either side of you. The single stem of red spider lilies falls from your one hand as both hit the ground beside you. Your head lolls to the side, as if suddenly too heavy for you to hold up, and your shoulders droop.

The smell of decay fills his senses, and Mingi curses lowly. He crouches near you once more, studying you carefully. Faintly, he can see your chest rising and falling in laboured breaths, and he exhales a long breath through his nose. At least you’re not dead.

Shaking his head, Mingi soon moves to crack his neck. The past five days have been spent non-stop travelling to find you, only for him to greet you as you sit at death’s door. Some hunt this has turned out to be; not even worthwhile.

Well, it’s not like Mingi expected much. He was so annoyed at his subordinates, he didn’t realize just what he was getting into. You’re probably both severely dehydrated and starved. Not to mention the blood red hue that graces your right leg, the smell of infection wafting from beneath your clothing, originating from that very thigh. You’re going to need some tending to before Mingi can even think of beginning his trek back to the keep. If he’s lucky, you’ll be back on your feet by tomorrow afternoon.

Letting out a sigh through his nose, Mingi scouts the area. At least he can gather some resources while you sleep. Who knows. Maybe by the time he returns you’ll be dead and he can just leave you to the crows. Either way, he knows that even he needs to rest, and you shouldn’t be left on your own for too long. Who knows what’s wandering around the dark depths of the forest at this time of night.

At least you won’t be able to run away while he hunts for some supplies.

The next morning, as the sunlight is streaming through the branches and casting a warm glow on your surroundings, you finally begin to stir. It’s slow, and your breathing is still laboured, but you manage to blink open your eyes, vision blurred as your body feels the weakest it’s ever been in your life.

Shifting your head, your brow furrows. To your left rests three new things that weren’t previously there the night before. One seems to be some berries on a large leaf. They’re small and red in colour, the juice already staining the green. Another appears to be a canteen, with what you can only hope to be water residing inside it. The third and final thing is another leaf, a dark green paste of sorts residing on the light green plant. The paste is a little grainy from what you can tell, but there’s an almost sweet aroma rising around you which you can only assume comes from the dark green substance beside you.

Cautiously, your gaze darts from the items beside you to the redcap sitting across from you. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you opened your own, and you can just tell that he’s watching your every move carefully.

You stomach twists in hunger, throat burning with thirst. You try to swallow the dryness in your mouth, but every movement is a challenge, and your limbs feel as if they are made of lead. Your wound on your right leg stings, and if you weren’t severely dehydrated, you’re sure tears would be springing to your eyes at the way you can physically feel your body shutting down.

Your fingers on your left hand stretch open, twitching as you attempt to reach for the canteen of water first. If you could only take a sip, you’re sure more strength would return to you…

“Fragile little human,” the redcap tuts, shaking his head in disappointment. “Should have saved your strength for now instead of wasting it picking flowers.”

The most you can muster is a glance in his direction, vision blurring at the edges as you attempt to reach for the canteen of water once more. You hardly notice the fae standing to his feet across from you, approaching you slowly. It’s only when you hear the crunching of grass right beside you that you spare a glance upwards at the shadow now looming overhead.

“Do I have to do everything for you?” He rolls his eyes in annoyance, taking a knee and snatching the canteen from the ground.

Harshly, he undoes the cap, irritation marring his brow. A moment later, he leans in, fisting the back of your head in his hand, his nails pricking at your skin. He doesn’t even flinch when you attempt to pull away from him, your eyes wide as you look between him and the canteen he shoves against your lips.

As he tilts the container against your lips, your eyes fall closed, finally accepting your fate.

The moment water touches your lips, cold and refreshing, your eyes are flinging open. A small gasp escapes you, greedily drinking from the canteen as liquid spills over your chin and onto your shirt. Only, you don’t care, drinking your fill of this addicting nectar that floods your senses as he holds the canteen to your lips.

“What?” He scoffs, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the back of your head. “Did you think it was poisoned or something?”

You can only muster a glare at him, your mouth occupied with taking in as much water as you can for as long as he’s offering it. It doesn’t taste like anything in particular, so you assume it’s the same as you’re used to. Hopefully, no major, or magical, side effects.

“If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t poison you.” The redcap shakes his head as if it should be obvious. “I’d have torn out your throat a lot earlier if I had wanted you dead.”

Your eyes dull, looking forward as you focus in on the water filling your throat. Sounds begin to muffle, taking note of the low timbre of his voice droning on in the background as the flow of water from the canister begins to slow. Then, and only then, do you focus back in on your surroundings, noticing how quiet it’s gotten within a few seconds.

“I asked you a question, mortal.” He pulls the canteen away from your lips, his gaze harsh and unforgiving.

You blink, swallowing lightly as you attempt to catch your breath. You can feel some strength returning to your limbs. Enough so, that you are able to lift the back of your hand to your mouth to wipe at the remaining water that clings to your skin.

“You did?” Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, blinking up at the redcap beside you.

You watch as his eyes close, hearing him let out a long, exasperated breath through his nose.

“I did.” He confirms, blinking his sharp gaze back open to meet your own. “What is your name?”

You purse your lips, a small spark igniting behind your eyes. You’re not going to fall for that.

“Would you rather me refer to you as ‘human’ this whole time?” He asks, cocking his head in irritation.

Again, you stay silent. Pulling your hands into your lap, you clutch that flower stem for dear life.

“Suit yourself,” He sighs, standing back to his full height and casting your figure in shadows once more.

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice comes out low, strained from the lack of use. A clear sign that you’ve been passed out for much longer than you thought.

He pauses, clearly caught off guard by your question.

“I told you,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need to return to the keep.”

“Why not just let me die?” You whisper, staring down at your hands.

“You’re less use to me dead, than alive.” He states bluntly, walking back over to his original spot across from you. “Now, hurry up and eat. We haven’t got all day, and I’ve already wasted enough time looking after you.”

You purse your lips, pain slowly creeping throughout your entire body. “Why won’t you just let me die?”

Your question clearly catches him off guard, for he’s blinking at you in mild shock before schooling his features. He lets out a small huff, latching the canister back onto his belt.

“I just told you, you’re more use to me alive, than dead.” He rolls his eyes. “None of my other underlings can carry what you can over such distances without complaining. Well, for the most part. You’re useful, and you’re mine. Or did you forget your parents practically gave you away?”

The sharp sting of tears prick at the back of your eyes, but you hold them off. After all, this isn’t anything you’re not used to; you’ve heard it all before.

Opting to remain quiet, you avert your gaze to the side. Your eyes land on those berries, and without wasting another moment, you begin to eat. He said he wouldn’t poison you, but now you’re wishing he could lie. In the back of your mind, you begin to hope the water mixed with these berries you’re eating forms a toxin within your stomach to claim your life so you don’t have to go through this all over again.

Just when you had thought you had finally broken the cycle, and escaped…

“Eat slowly, fuck!” The fae shoots you a pointed look. “I don’t need you getting sick on the way home. You’re already fighting off a damn near toxic infection. What even happened to you?”

“Why do you care?” You snap, almost instantly regretting the words once they escape your lips.

You watch as the fae before you closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself before responding.

“I don’t care about you.” He snaps, his dark eyes flashing open. “I do care about the trouble you’ve cause me since you were thrust upon me by those stupid mortal parents of yours.”

“Then, leave me here to die!” You retort, a fire blazing now behind your irises.

Perhaps you can irritate him enough to give you what you want: peace from this godforsaken earth. A place you don’t want to live for one moment longer than you have to. Not after what you’ve been through.

“I’ve already told you,” he lets out a long sigh through his nose, “you’re more use to me alive than dead. Simply because you want something, doesn’t mean you’re going to get it.”

“You should learn to take your own advice, General.” You spit, eyes narrowing at the fae towering over you.

“Watch your tongue before you lose it.” His tone is sharp, gaze deadly as he leers down at you.

Your whole body shakes as you continue to glare up at him. You take note of his hands clenched in fists at his sides, and you decide right then and there that if he’s not going to kill you of his own volition, you’ll make him kill you. He doesn’t seem to have the most patience in the world, and of the few times you’ve observed him on your travels, his fuse is quite short. You’re not going to subject yourself to a life of servitude under another egotistical male who doesn’t know how to care for anyone other than himself. Not anymore. Not again.

Thus, you remain quiet. Your one hand clenches so hard around that flower stem, you’re surprised it doesn’t snap in half. Yet, for all of your own irritation, you cannot bring yourself to push him any further right now. The pain in your leg is far too great, and it’s taking all of your mental capacity not to start crying at the searing sting that stabs you with every shift of your thigh.

“Hurry up, and finish eating,” he turns his back to you, crossing his arms over his chest. “We leave at noon.”

“How do you expect me to travel with a leg like mine?” You quip, your own sharp gaze boring a hole into his back.

“It’s not broken, is it?” He replies smartly.

“I can’t put pressure on it-“

“What do you think that is for?” He cuts you off, turning to point at the leaf with the dark green paste on it. “I’m aware of how to treat injuries, mortal. I can do more than just cause them.”

“I’ve had worse,” you mumble, wincing as you shift your leg the wrong way.

Whether he hears you or not, you do not know. Instead, he chooses to blatantly ignore your statement, turning his back to you while keeping his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hurry up, and put that ointment on the infected area.” He commands, voice firm. “I will not be carrying you just because you can’t walk.”

A sharp huff of air escapes your nose, scowling openly at the general’s back. Almost reluctantly, you bring another berry to your lips, chewing angrily on that piece of fruit as you grab the leaf with the paste on it in your hand. Just as you open your mouth to say something, he cuts you off once more.

“Believe me, I have the same desire to gaze upon you as I do a gnat.” He begins walking back over to stand beside the tree he had been resting against when you first woke up. “You also stink, so the sooner you finish, the sooner I can find you something better to wear. Those clothes are awful on you.”

Again, you say nothing. Instead, you opt to do as told, and quickly as that. The sooner you get out of this place, the sooner you can put your plan into action. He doesn’t seem too keen on listening to you right now, anyways, so you’d rather not waste your time trying to rile him up when he looks as if he’s about to take off running into the woods. You doubt he’d let you get too far behind, anyways.

The process of tugging off your pants and unwrapping those now soiled bandages is long. The linen clings to your skin, and peeling back the now discoloured cloth is painful, a grimace resting on your features as you reveal the cut on your thigh.

The wound looks even worse than it did before you cleaned it at that stream almost a week ago, the jagged edges crusted over with dried blood and pus. It’s angry, irritated and swollen, and you fear touching it as every time you move, it feels as if thousands of pieces of glass are shredding into your skin.

You bite your lip, nearly hissing down at the wound. Hesitantly, you dip a finger into the paste, figuring you have nothing more to lose. Trusting one redcap led your this far. What’s one more?

The second the dark green paste touches your wound, you nearly breathe out a sigh of relief. Instantly, a cooling sensation spreads over the cut, and the more you add, the more you find your shoulders relaxing. Finally, after what feels like months, you’re experiencing some kind of relief.

Slowly, you watch as the paste begins to bubble, but the wound doesn’t sting at all. You can smell a faint aroma of pine and earth drifting from your thigh, and with every breath you take, the throbbing that you had been experiencing begins to ebb away slowly into a dull ache.

“Any longer and that infection would have spread to your heart.” A voice from across the way draws your attention.

Lifting your head, you stare at the broad back of the redcap general.

You purse your lips.

“I’ve never smelt an infection like yours in all my years.” He states bluntly. “You’re lucky to even be alive.”

You can’t help it. You snort. “I’ve heard that one too many times before.”

This time, it’s his turn to say nothing in response. Instead, all you receive is a grunt in acknowledgement as you continue to gently apply that paste over your wound.

A few minutes later, nothing remains of the paste on the leaf. However, just as you go to discard it, the redcap speaking draws your attention once more.

“Press the leaf over the wound. It’ll act as an adhesive until you can bandage it properly again.” He instructs, not even turning to look at you.

You nod, despite the fact that he cannot see you, and do as he says. The relief you feel as you press the large leaf over your wound is as instant as it was with the paste. A pleasant feeling travels up your thigh, causing tingles to erupt in its wake, and you find yourself breathing out a sigh of relief.

A small silence settles around you, nothing but the wind filling the space between you.

You swallow lightly, averting your gaze to the side. Keeping your voice low, you speak. “Thanks.”

You fail to see the way the redcap’s brow furrows in confusion. “Why are you thanking me?”

You hesitate, not wanting to tell him how grateful you actually are in this moment. Especially not wanting to imply that you’re grateful that he even cared enough to help you treat your wound, even like this.

“I don’t like to be indebted to others.” You reply, beginning to push yourself up after tugging your pants back on.

A grunt is all you receive in response, failing to see the way he spares a glance back at you from over his shoulder.

“Come on,” His reply is gruff as he begins the long trek back through the woods and towards the keep. “Let’s go.”

Silently, you follow after him, hobbling along with your injured leg. At the very least, your wound doesn’t throb with every step, but your ankle is another story. You just hope it doesn’t give out on you at any point. You honestly don’t know what will happen to you then.

About a day passes without rest, and by the time the sun is setting in the distance, you find yourself collapsing against the nearest tree. Despite quite a modified pace on your part, your chest still heaves, and your lungs burn with every breath you take. Your body still hasn’t recovered from the aftereffects of the wild stream, nor has it been properly able to fight off the infection from the wound festering on your right thigh. You’re surprised you’ve made it this far at all.

“Tired already?”

Looking towards the taller fae reveals him to be standing with a quirked brow. His arms are crossed over his chest, and you can just feel his gaze scrutinizing every inch of your body.

You nearly shudder.

“Not all of us are made of energy, you know.” You snap, leaning heavily against the tree as your legs begin to give out beneath you.

Not even ten seconds later, you’ve managed to turn yourself so your back is against the trunk. Another few seconds, and you’ve slid yourself to the ground, wincing as your ankle twinges uncomfortably. You can feel the wound on your thigh beginning to throb beneath the leaf you have adhered to it as a makeshift bandage. You should have collapsed from exhaustion by now, considering how badly your muscles ache.

The redcap lets out a long sigh. “Wait here.”

Without waiting for a response, the fae takes off into the woods. If it weren’t for the fact that he storms off in a different direction than that which you are headed, you’d think he might be abandoning you. Though, that wouldn’t really be a bad thing at this point. Maybe then you could pass on in peace. It’s not like you have anything waiting for you when you get back to the keep except another life of servitude.

Another life you don’t want. A life you have never wanted.

About ten minutes later, you hear rustling from the bush. Thinking it’s simply the redcap returning from wherever he went off to, you opt to ignore it for now. Only, the more rustling occurs, followed by no snarky comments about you having passed out, you realize it’s not actually him.

Cracking an eye open in the direction you register the noise coming from reveals a deer to be stepping out of the shrubs. From the spots on her back, you can tell the doe is young, or at least, you believe her to be. Time works very differently in this realm than your own, or so you’ve been told.

Cautiously, the doe approaches you. Each step she takes is light, her ears perked and listening for any abnormal sounds around you. Sounds even you won’t be able to hear, despite straining your ears. Her eyes are brown, and wide, and you can’t help but admire the almost innocent gleam that shines within them as she creeps closer.

You steady your breathing. This is the closest you’ve ever been to a doe before - hell, any wild animal - and seeing one like this only makes a tightness form in your throat.

So, there is beauty in this world, after all. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Ever so slowly, you begin to lift your hand towards her snout. She rests mere inches from you, treading carefully beside your left leg. You can see her nostrils flaring as she scents you, probably more interested in that stem of spider lilies you still have tucked within your pocket than anything.

You’re so close, and if you reach out a little further, you can touch her. However, before you even get the chance, a high pitched squeal fills the air. Something warm and wet lands on your face, and you blink in shock, the doe no longer standing before you. A blink and you hear movement as if there is a struggle happening right behind the very tree you rest upon.

A loud crack echoes through the forest, and all goes still.

Reaching the hand you had extended out to the doe to your face, your fingertips drag through the wet substance coating your cheek. You can feel the warm liquid smear against your skin as you pull your hand away to see red, and you cannot help the tears that spring to your eyes.

She was so young. She had her whole life ahead of her, and now she’ll never get to live it. Ever.

Turning your head towards the sound of approaching footsteps, you hear the familiar slide of a limp body upon the ground. A body which has given up. A body which has stopped struggling and accepted her fate, awaiting the familiar pain that is sure to come next.

With shaking hands, you shift your gaze upwards to see that redcap walk into view, dragging the bloodied corpse of that doe back into your line of sight.

“Perhaps you have more than one use, after all.” He says with a slight hum, completely ignoring how you avert your gaze to your lap.

Staring intently at your palms, you attempt to stop your hands from shaking. “Why did you do that?”

“What do you mean?” He frowns, and the dull thud of the deer’s entire dead weight falling upon the earth makes you flinch. “We have to eat, don’t we?”

No response escapes your lips. Instead, a feeling of both disgust and nausea builds in your stomach, creeping up your chest and into your throat. You can feel your jaw twitching as you hold your tears at bay, mourning for the life you never knew. The life lost once the first drop of blood had been spilt upon your skin.

Silence surrounds you. Something you’ve learned to be quite good at. You had to. It was the only way to survive. Long since has the loud, boisterous girl you used to be been forced into the shadows. She still slips through from time to time - an old habit, really - but you’ve learned that each slip of the tongue has never been worth anything in the end. Or at least, so you thought.

An advantage you’ll use once you have enough strength to think again. Once you have enough strength to fight back.

The muffled stillness around you is soon drowned out by the pounding of blood in your ears.

No, wait.

That’s the sound of flesh tearing. Of bones breaking.

Shifting your gaze back into focus, your eyes catch on the horrifying sight before you. A shriek of terror leaves your lips as you see the corpse of the doe, or rather, what’s left of it, completely eviscerated before you. Entrails cover the ground, staining the once vibrant green flora red. Jagged bones stick up in odd ends, pieces of flesh tossed upon the dirt as meat is torn from her hide.

You nearly lose what little contents you still have in your stomach as you see the redcap crouched over the carcass. Slowly, he tears the meat into strips, feasting on the raw flesh of the doe as blood drips down his chin.

Your response in involuntary. Almost immediately, you begin pushing yourself away from him, eyes wide as panic seizes your entire body. Your breathing quickens, and despite the sharp sudden pain that shoots through your thigh, you do not stop attempting to push yourself through the tree you’re resting against.

Slowly, the fae turns his head, staring at you with cold, dark eyes. His chewing slows, and all you can see is the monster that haunts your every living nightmare.

Before you have a chance to think, before you even realize what you’re doing, you push yourself to your feet. The moment you turn, you end up tripping over the roots of the tree you had just been leaning against.

The sound of your body colliding with the cold, hard ground echoes throughout the area. All that can be heard are your whimpers and choked breaths as you begin to crawl away from the terror bathed in blood behind you.

Blood. Blood… Always so much blood.

Your nails crack as they dig into the harsh earth, the brittle keratin no match for the sharp rocks and ruthless splinters that pierce your flesh with each desperate impact on the ground. The wound in your thigh burns, and you can’t tell if the warmth you feel spreading along your upper legs is blood or not.

“What are you-“

“Stay away!” Your shrill voice, terrified and desperate, rings out through the woods.

You fail to see the way his brow furrows as he stands back to his full height, his looming figure towering over you as you continue to claw your way through the dirt.

Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you see him take a menacing step towards you.

“No! Don’t touch me!” Your frantic plea falls on deaf ears as he begins to stalk towards you. “Not again! I can’t take anymore!”

Mingi freezes in his spot, cocking his head at your frantic wailing. He can smell more than just the deer’s blood in the air, and he lets out a sigh in exasperation.

Only, his reaction seems to set you off even more.

“No!” The word is but a shrill chant upon your lips as you grab another root to drag yourself further away from him. Your arms shake, legs completely limp behind you as your whole body begins to go numb. “I can’t- I can’t-“ You hiccup on a sob, choking violently. “I don’t want to die!”

Your breathing comes in ragged pants as you begin to hyperventilate. You just manage to turn yourself back around to face him when your vision starts to fade around the edges.

The last thing you see before your world fades to black is a large man looming over you, covered head to toe in blood.

***

There are sounds: a bird chirping faintly in the distance, the rustling of leaves above your head, and the crackling of a fire nearby. The smoke lightly fills your lungs, but not enough to sting, giving rise to the other scents hidden beneath the crisp burning of wood. Earth, damp and heavy rests just beneath the smell of the fire, an undertone of pine and sandalwood. Comfort during a long awaited rest.

Sensations begin to return, and you can feel the dirt beneath your fingertips. Softly, you scrape them against the ground, the soil giving way with each movement you use to steady yourself. Small jolts of pain shoot up your arms from the tips of your fingers, and you vaguely recall cracking your nails as you scrambled away from something, or rather, someone.

Air fills your lungs, and with each breath, your head clears, body feeling the lightest it has in weeks. There’s something small, and soft, supporting your head as you rest on the ground, your skin tingling as your eyes shift beneath your still closed lids.

You take a deep breath in, and slowly, you begin to wake.

A soft groan escapes you as you stir, blinking your eyes open to stare up at the canopy of trees above you. Stars twinkle in the sky above, and you can just make out the faintest hues of light stretching across the vast expanse of black, turning all that was once night to day.

“Good.” A voice cutting through the calm of the night has your eyes darting to the side to see that redcap standing amongst the trees. “You’re up.”

You say nothing, opting to finally gather your full surroundings properly. To your surprise, you appear to be in the exact same spot in the woods where you initially passed out. What’s even more shocking is that the eviscerated doe is nowhere to be seen, nor are any signs that there had even been a mutilated corpse at all.

Turning your gaze back to the redcap standing within the trees, you take note of his appearance. Just like the surrounding area, he is clean of any evidence that would suggest of his previous violent actions. Not a spec of dirt seems to be on him, and he even appears to be wearing fresh clothing. Most surprising of all, his claws are no longer visible as his hands rest at his sides. Almost as if they’ve retracted somehow.

He seems… different. Calmer, almost. As if he’s suddenly become cautious around you. If you could even call it that.

“Do you remember what happened?” He keeps his stare fixed on you, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel as sharp as before.

A blink, and you swallow, opting to remain quiet for now.

He purses his lips slightly, but doesn’t comment on whether or not he believes in your silence.

“You managed to tear your wound open again.” He states, glancing from your face down to your injured thigh.

This causes you to panic, immediately moving to sit up only for your head to begin spinning as soon as you do.

In the blink of an eye, he’s crouching beside you. “Careful. You don’t want to aggravate it more than you already have. The last thing you need is for the wound to split again.”

Your eyes widen at his proximity, and before you can think, you’re shoving him away. The sudden movement only causes your vision to blur, losing your balance on the one hand you had been using to support yourself on the ground.

Of course, he barely budges, his brow furrowing as he lets out a sigh.

“You’re only going to hurt yourself more.” He states gruffly.

Reaching out his hands, he grasps you by the shoulders. Roughly, he pulls you upwards into a proper sitting position, practically shoving you against the trunk of the tree. He moves so fast, that you feel your head jerk forward, only for it to be pushed backwards with that same softness now resting behind it.

It’s then that you realize he’s folded his old shirt into a makeshift pillow for you to use.

“I don’t need your pity.” You spit harshly, averting your gaze to the side as both anger and embarrassment culminate as the heat beneath your skin.

“It will truly be a sad day if I come to pity you.”

A tense look pulls at your features, but still, you refuse to look at him.

“You’re unfit for travel.” He states bluntly. “We’ll rest here for the day to gather our bearings, then continue the journey back to the keep in the evening. As much as I despise the delay, I am not carrying you.”

“Why won’t you just let me die?” You sigh, turning to look at him in exasperation.

An image flashes in your mind of a familiar monster tearing into a mutilated corpse, covered in blood. You flinch, quickly averting your gaze once more.

“I already told you,” this time, it’s his turn to sigh. “You’re more use to me alive than dead.”

“Then, treat my wound.” Your voice is bitter, demanding. “It’s the only way the both of us get out of this faster.”

“I already have.” His response has your head whipping in his direction, eyes wide in shock. “Why do you think I’m making you rest here for the day?”

Your lips part slightly, heart thundering away inside your chest as your veins flood with terror. You are quite literally at his mercy. You have been at his mercy for who knows how long. Given the way your body feels in its current state, you fear chancing a look downwards to see just what kind of damage he’s done. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been unconscious this whole time. Who knows just what exactly he’s done to you.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time…

“Don’t give me that look, it’s not like I wanted to touch you. Believe it or not, I’m quite respectful when it comes to that.” He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. Not even a moment later, he points at your thigh, a sharp claw suddenly adorning his finger. “I even kept your pants on, and everything. You humans are so fickle about nudity, I swear…”

Pushing himself back to his feet, he stares down at you expectantly.

Sure enough, when you spare a glance downwards, you see your pants still on. The right leg of your pants is completely torn off, the fabric resting about an inch from the top of your wound. It seems as if he’s cleaned it properly and added more of that paste he made for you the other day, for when you remove the leaf from your skin, the cut is much cleaner than before. There’s also the familiar scent of pine and earth lingering in the air, originating at your thigh. The swelling seems to have gone down significantly, and there’s no more dried blood or pus around the affected area. The cut even appears smaller than before, as if your flesh is starting to mend itself properly the more you rest.

“You are to spend the entirety of today sitting. No pressure is to be put on that leg until this evening when I lead you to the pond nearby for you to bathe. Then, you’ll change into a fresh pair of clothes which I’ve scavenged for you after I’ve wrapped that wound up properly with bandages.” He instructs, voice firm and leaving no room for arguments. “We continue on foot from there.”

You purse your lips, fisting the dirt beneath your hands. “Yes, General.”

He takes a moment to study your features, the corner of his lips twitching upwards faintly.

“Good.” He huffs out dryly. “You do know how to listen.”

The glare you send him is harsh, but it only serves to make him chuckle.

“You’re about as intimidating as a rabbit, mortal.” He shakes his head in amusement. “Keep trying. Perhaps one day you’ll scare someone who cares.”

“Then, why help me?” Your mouth moves before you have time to think. Your voice is harsh, hands balled into fists at your sides. “Since you don’t care, why waste your time waiting for me to heal?”

The redcap pauses, as if considering his answer carefully.

“You are aware that I cannot lie, correct?”

“Yes.” You blink, brow furrowing in confusion as to where this is going.

“I have stated multiple times as to why I have kept you alive.” He replies bluntly, moving to sit himself across the fire from you, leaning himself against another tree.

“I’m just a means to an end for you.” You spit, bitterness residing within your tone.

“I may not like your kind, human, but I don’t necessarily kill without reason.” His sharp eyes narrow at you from over the fire. The light from the rising sun combined with the dancing flames cast an eerie shadow over his features, and it only serves to make him appear more intimidating that he already is. One of his hands comes up to cover his right bicep, resting directly over that red sash tied around his upper arm. “There is a meaning behind each time this has been bathed in blood. I do not like tainting it with those unworthy of death.”

“Great.” You huff. “So, now I’m not even worth killing.”

“Everything is worth killing, human.” The redcap blinks at you, as if stating the obvious. “What matters is when and how it dies. It’s less fun when your prey doesn’t put up a fight. Against me, you’d have no chance. Therefore, you’re not worth the effort it would take to kill you.”

Not even you can refute that. You know how strong the fae are. Hell, even other humans have always proven themselves much stronger than you. You wouldn’t last a second against a creature physically capable of splitting you in two.

A phantom crack echoes through your ears, and you are once again reminded of the image of the monster before you bathed in blood.

“Is that why you killed that deer?” You snap, tone low and resentful.

“To use your own words, it was a means to an end.” He hums, tilting his head back against the trunk of the tree to gaze upwards at the sky. “I’m sure you’re aware of what a food chain is. Just because I won’t bother to kill you now, doesn’t mean I won’t if it would serve me a purpose.”

“So, you’re saying you will still kill me.” You do your best not to sound too hopeful, tugging the spider lily out of your pocket to pick at its wilting flowers.

He shrugs, humming lightly. “Sometimes we do things to prove we can. Others, because we already know the outcome. You obviously knew that flower would die if you picked it, yet you still chose to snap its stem. All for what? A fleeting moment of happiness? What good will that last you?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Your reply is barely above a whisper as you stare down at your lap, twirling that dying stem between your fingers gently.

He quirks a brow. “Try me.”

“Sometimes it’s those fleeting moments that are all it takes to survive another day.” The flower stills in your hand, and you look up to meet his gaze. “You hold meaning in bathing a strip of cloth in the blood of your enemies. It might seem trivial, but that same meaning for you is what this flower is to me.”

“You… use that flower to celebrate death?” His brow furrows in confusion, shifting to rest his one arm on his now bent knee.

“I suppose you could say that.” For the first time in what feels like years, the corners of your mouth twitch upwards faintly. “It’s more of a symbol, or a representation. It’s the things you associate with it that matter most.”

“I suppose it’s very human to find symbolism in the most mundane of things,” he hums, his eyes falling shut as he rests against the tree.

“Don’t count yourself out, General,” your gaze narrows at the thinly veiled insult. “You find symbolism in bathing fabric in blood.”

Instead of annoyance, which you thought he would have at your comment, a snort of amusement escapes him.

“I suppose I do. Remind me to tear your tongue out if you ever compare me to a human again.”

“Then, who would you have to host such wonderful, and thought provoking conversations with?” You grin, only to catch yourself immediately afterwards.

Your heart skips a beat, staring intently at the redcap across from you. You half expect him to lunge at you for what you’ve just said, but instead, he simply lets out a low chuckle.

“Perhaps you have more than just one use after all.” He hums, remaining perfectly relaxed against that tree. “Maybe I’ll even let you keep your tongue.”

A chill runs down your spine, but you say nothing in response. Reality creeps in around you that you’ve just been conversing, somewhat casually, with a highly dangerous fae general. What’s worse is that it’s the first conversation in months that you’ve actually somewhat enjoyed.

Maybe, just maybe, this won’t turn out to be so bad after all.

#thrill of the hunt #cultofdionysusnet #mfu net #yandere mingi #yandere ateez #mingi scenario #mingi imagine #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #yandere kpop #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop au #ateez au #fantasy au #fae au #chubby reader #tall reader

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flanaganfilm · 1 year

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Hey Mike! I'm really sorry to hear about your experience on Hill House. I do a lot of work in VFX in pre/prod/post and I know that sort of production that feels like a sinking ship day in and day out. I do hope you have found some catharsis now that it's over.

The show shook me. Changed me. Made me reckon with myself as a storyteller and as a person. All for the better, I assure you.

I hope to one day tell such an impactful story of my own, either through one of my short films, or through the novel series I'm writing/illustrating. Which brings me to my question: How do you navigate the complexities of having authored a work that did so much harm to yourself but also did a lot of good for others? What lessons do you hope aspiring storytellers like myself take from your difficult experience? Thanks :)

Thank you for saying this.

It's true, HILL HOUSE was a very negative experience to make - but I will always be profoundly proud of the finished product. It's some of my favorite work. I may never again face down something as challenging as episode 6, and I love the impact it has on a lot of its viewers.

There's a weird thing that happens when you finish a project - it really ceases to be yours in any way at all. It belongs immediately to the audience, and they're given an experience that you will never have. When HILL HOUSE came out, I didn't watch it - I'd seen it hundreds of times by that point, but at the same time, I've NEVER seen it.

Every frame of it is informed by my experience making it, or my intentions, or the compromises we made here, or the line we cut there that I wish we'd kept, or a bad day on set, or a problematic actor, or a visual effect we never quite got right (there are a LOT of those in HILL HOUSE, some of them still make me wince.) So I'm never able to WATCH the show. It's a tradeoff we make all the time - if you're lucky enough to make a movie, or a TV show, that's the price of it - you'll never be able to watch it.

But, I get to see how it affects other people. More than anything else I've made, HILL HOUSE seems to have the largest and most passionate fanbase. (BLY is a close second, though that's a whole other blog entry - I could write a book about the complicated, fascinating experience of the BLY fandom).

But with HILL HOUSE, I'd hear a lot from people who lost loved ones, who navigate complicated family dynamics, and who have wrestled with depression or grief. It means the world to me. It's a strange divide, as I'll never see the show that they saw - but I am so grateful that it touched them the way it did.

I'm just about at the point where I think I'm capable of sitting down and truly watching HILL HOUSE. It takes years sometimes. I've watched a lot of my early work, like HUSH or GERALD'S GAME, and finally had the experience of really SEEING it. But HILL HOUSE has always felt a little too raw, and my memories still overpower my ability to separate myself from it. Maybe that's changed. Maybe I'll give it a shot this year. Half a decade seems like enough time.

But yes, it is complicated and strange with all of them. I so badly want to watch MIDNIGHT MASS, the project that was the most personal to me - but it flew off into the world just like they all do. I spent a decade working on it, and felt it flowing through me every day - like it was a part of me. But the moment the show was done and released into the world, it wasn't mine anymore, just like all the others. I remember feeling almost knocked over when it departed, for some reason I thought that one would always feel like a part of me... but no. They're like children, they all have to go live their own lives, and they don't belong to you. Not really.

#the haunting of hill house #the haunting of bly manor #midnight mass

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cleostoohot · 2 years

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𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬 🐈

what is a mental diet when it comes to manifesting? a mental diet is when you pay attention to your thoughts and flip thoughts that go against your desire/thoughts you no longer resonate with. the better you are with canceling out those thoughts, the faster your desire comes to fruition because you don’t have those opposing thoughts taking such a toll on you.

────────────────────────

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

i absolutely love this one. try to catch the thought as fast as you can and flip it. don’t even finish the thought. don’t give that bitch a chance. this one is so effective because it quickly trains your mind to not even think what’s being canceled anymore. early in my manifesting journey i did this. on the first day my opposing thoughts were so bad but by day 2- the opposing thoughts decreased by 60% not even exaggerating. i had lost an inch off my waist too (i was manifesting my desired body)

𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝟑𝐱

i seen this on @babygothprincess‘s page. i think she created the technique herself. i’m not going to go too much into detail since she already did in her post. but, whenever you have an opposing thought, you flip it 3 times. example:

“i’ll never get the $500😔- wait the $500 is already mine. i always attract money easily and effortlessly. i’m so happy i got $500”

“𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧…”

this one is gold too 🙌🏽! if you ever think a thought from the ‘old’ reality, follow it with “i remember when blah blah blah” lemme just give y’all an example lol.

“why tf my ass so flat😒- i remember when i used to think my ass was so flat but now i’m thick as fuck!” i 💙 the i remember when technique because you’re treating the old story as a memory meaning that’s not how it is anymore, you have your desire now!

“𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠…”

my very own😌 i did a whole post on it here 🤲🏽 so i’m definitely not going into detail rn lol. long story short you just affirm “regardless of everything, _____” after.

“why isn’t my hair getting any healthier 🤧- nah regardless of everything i already have healthy, luscious hair” or “regardless of what i think or see, i have the hair i desire”

𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

i thought of this technique earlier this year and hyler actually made a video on it too. for some reason people were hating on hyler for bringing this technique to the internet but… i mean you’re literally gaslighting yourself into having your desire??? it’s better than gaslighting yourself saying you’re delusional and could never get your manifestation-

“i hate how tall i am😥- bish what? why tf did i even say that, i’m literally short as fuck. almost everybody i meet is taller than me what was i thinking?”

𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

if you’re going to do this, i recommend doing it along with at least one of the techniques listed above. this is kind of like just a cherry 🍒 on top. at night or when you’re about to go to sleep, revise your day with affirmations like:

“all my thoughts were aligned with my desire”

“i’m so proud that i only had positive thoughts today”

so on and so on. the past is so easy to change since it’s really just a memory kept alive by you. so when you’re telling yourself that you only thought the right things, that’s what you will get evidence of. highly suggest doing this in SATS.

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this post is kind of dry and messy i’m sorry lol. but i got a lot of better stuff planned after this post so just bare with me ok? 😃 i’m new to dis ian true to it just yet 💀

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #neville goddard #ignore typos or incorrect grammar lols 🫥

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havecourage-darling · 1 year

Text

Firsts: Sold-Out Concert // Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Henderson!Reader

wc: 4.3 K

warnings: it's just poorly written smut, I'm sorry ahead of time, pls love me

A/N: Special shout out to Katie, who bullied me until I decided to post this. It hadn't originally made my firsts cut but she loved it enough to convince me to include it

masterlist || ao3 || firsts: meeting the family

“Congratulations boys, you officially sold-out Madison Square Garden.”

Fiona, Corroded Coffin’s manager, revealed two massive champagne bottles from behind her back and shrieked.

Chaos reigned.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to do. Skye, Gareth’s girlfriend, clutched your hand between hers so tightly you were sure she was trying to mold you two together.

“Holy shit,” she said over the boys’ screaming, “they did it, they did it!”

Steve, Jeff, and Dustin, both hugging and jumping on the couches in the recording studio, were the loudest of the group.

Fiona’s words finally sunk into your mind – the world around you going quiet as Skye jumped into Gareth’s arms and you felt Eddie take her place.

“Princess,” he breathed, eyes wide, looking a little dumbstruck.

Feeling bowled over still, you nodded dumbly. “Yeah, you did it.”

“We did it,” he repeated, sounding like an echo.

The both of you caught each other’s gazes and immediately grinned like lunatics. Without warning, his lips slammed into yours and your hands clutched at any part of him you could reach.

“You fucking did it, you did it!” You said between searing kisses. “Eddie!”

He panted against your neck, like he’d run a marathon, and before you could think of anything to say – a pillow smacked into the both of you.

Steve had his hands on his hips and Dustin had his arms crossed. “For the love of Christ, keep it in your pants.”

Annoyed, you shot them a withering glare. “I am congratulating him, you perv’!”

“Is that what the kids call it these days?” Robin asked, wiggling her brows.

Eddie huffed a laugh at that and you couldn’t help but smile. “I hate you all.”

“Even me?” Eddie asked, indignant.

You nodded. “You most of all,” you said, kissing the wrinkle on his nose. “Congratulations, I always knew you’d make it here.”

“And to think,” Jeff chuckled, eyes looking suspiciously wet, “it only took almost fifteen years.”

Knowing he’d meant it as a joke you laughed lightly almost on reflex, but then the words had sunken in.

fifteen years.

“I am so proud of you,” you said softly, the room quieting down with you. “All of you.”

Gareth, Jeff, and Liam smiled at you, looking like the emotional goofs you’d met at the theater room the day you’d gone to pick up your brother.

“I know I wasn’t there from the start, but I saw the early stuff,” your voice cracked a little and you blinked, slightly embarrassed, “and holy shit guys, you made it here.”

Jeff was the first one to stumble passed everyone and wrap you into a hug. “You weren’t there for the dumb early shit but you were there helping us unload and reload our equipment into Eddie’s shitty van for years. When it really counted.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested.

You smiled, wrapping your arms as tightly as you could around your friend. “Every Wednesday.”

Gareth laughed, joining you both in on the hug. “That bar really sucked,” he admitted, grunting when Liam slammed into you three.

“It had good fries,” Liam said.

“It did,” you laughed.

Jeff pulled back and looked around at the group of you. “It got better when you joined – Eddie got more annoying but-”

Eddie grunted. “I am right here!”

“-thanks. All of you, thank you.”

Trying to discretely wipe away a few tears, you stepped back so that the boys could have their moment. Steve and Robin came up to you. “I can’t believe you managed to fly in,” you said, nudging Robin. “Ms. World Traveler.”

“Hey,” she said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “when I moved, we promised to always be there for the big moments.”

Steve wrapped his around both of you. “Is Henderson calling us at four in the morning shrieking about sales considered a big moment?”

“It is because I had to find a flight back here within twelve hours,” Robin huffed, bumping him, “you try doing that while you’re at work. And, she isn’t Henderson anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that this would start their bickering all over again. It’d been barely three months since the wedding and Robin wasn’t letting it go.

“I’ve known them for two decades, she’ll always be Henderson to me,” Steve insisted, crossing his arms.

Eddie’s warm hand pulled you into his arms and you went willingly. “Are they arguing about your last name again?” He asked, chin hooking over your shoulder.

“They’ll argue about anything,” you said, placing your hands over his on your waist, eyes falling to the ring on your finger.

His huff of laughter hit your skin and you laughed when it tickled. “That’s true. Have you told them that you still haven’t technically changed it?”

“No,” you snorted, “it’s a lot of paper work okay? We’ve been busy.”

“Hey, I told you – I don’t care what your name is-”

“-so romantic-”

“-as long as you’ve got my ring on your finger,” he said, ignoring your quip, “besides, I’ve been yours for a long time.”

Fingers twining through his hair, you tugged lightly and smiled when his jaw twitched.

“Your brother is glaring at us,” he warned, fingers bruising at your hip.

“I am!” Dustin’s not so far off cry came from the left. “You two need an ice bucket!”

Laughing, you kissed his chin and turned back to referee Steve and Robin’s escalating fight. “He’s your brother too now,” you said. “Besides, him and the band have bigger problems than our PDA now.”

“Yeah?”

Rolling your eyes, you shot Dustin a look. “The goal was to get here – now you’ve actually got to plan the tour.”

Eddie and Dustin’s eyes widened.

“Shit.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Gareth said, palms on the desk in front of him, head hung between them.

Jeff clutched a trash can to his chest, as if daring him to take it from him. “Find your own bucket,” Jeff said, groaning.

Liam had a pair of headphones on, his eyes wide and frozen.

“I’m going to mess up, holy shit I think I forgot how to play the guitar,” Eddie muttered, his eyes wild. You pressed a palm between his shoulder blades as his breath started to come in pants.

“Eddie, you’ve known how to play the guitar since you were nine,” you said soothingly, “I think you’re more likely to forget me first.”

The line hit as intended because he swiveled his head towards you. “I’d never forget you. Never.” He smiled when he saw your grin, having caught on. “You’re seared onto my soul, Princess.”

You kissed his jaw and caught Dustin’s eye from across the room. He pointed to the guys, his wide stare saying: we have to do something about them. While you, Dustin, and Fiona had made sure their suite was set – you knew that if they juts sat around someone would definitely end up chucking up their lunch.

Glancing at the four of them, terrified, you nodded. Tour? He mouthed. You nodded again.

“Hey, guys,” you cleared your throat, “did you give the kids a tour of the place? There’s still like an hour to go and they haven’t seen anything!”

Max straightened and El looked around the room curiously. “Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Steve are taking a look through backstage, why don’t you show them too? I mean, it’s pretty cool. Dustin designed a bunch of pyrotechnics.”

Liam snapped out of his trance, as if reanimated into his body now that he had a purpose. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he said, wrapping an arm around Mike.

Gareth nodded, face still a little green. Jeff stood up and started towards the door. “Keep an eye on Will!” You said suddenly, eyes going towards the blushing adult. They were all almost practically adults, and absolutely able to take care of themselves, but you would always have a soft spot for him. The hand he dropped to your shoulder as he left told you that he knew. Everyone you both knew, and you meant everyone – you had to help an excited Joyce and mostly reluctant Hopper to the VIP section earlier - had flown in for this concert.

“You can join them,” Eddie said, hand rubbing down his face, “I’m going to stay here and panic until I pass out.”

Nodding, you bit back your laughter and tapped at your chin thoughtfully. “That seems like a really logical response, you should do that more often.”

Eddie wheezed, his breaths coming out faster. “I should hold conferences.”

After a few beats, Eddie’s breathing slowed and you rubbed a hand down his back. “Has anyone ever told you that you tend to be a bit of a drama queen?” You asked.

Eddie pretended to think about it as the room completely emptied out. “No, actually, I’ve been accredited for being very levelheaded during emergencies.”

Snorting, you leaned back into the couch and hummed. This was nowhere near Corroded Coffin’s first big concert – but it was their first time selling out a massive, iconic stadium. It was a first and you knew that despite the almost decade of performances, starting all the way back in The Hideout, nothing would shake the nerves out of Eddie.

Fiona was practically quadruple checking everything on her clipboard. When you’d arrived, at your scheduled ten minutes late time, she had literally checked you off her list.

An idea struck you. “Would going over the set list and making sure all the equipment is ready to go again help you out?”

“Yes?” He said sheepishly, his nose scrunching like it did when he was embarrassed. You smiled at him and pulled him to his feet.

“Come on Mr. Munson,” you said, intertwining your fingers, “let’s go get our ducks in a row.”

You pushed open the door to the massive ensuite bathroom and blinked to see Eddie hadn’t moved from where you’d left him – on the chair by the sinks. Honestly, how fancy did an ensuite have to be that it had furniture in the bathroom? Even Eddie hadn’t gone that far when you’d bought your house together.

His leg was bouncing erratically, eyes screwed shut, and his fingers plucking at invisible strings. The soft spot in your heart with his name seared onto it melted at the sight of his anxiety. You’d spent an hour double checking his equipment before the sound of people chanting their names trickled into backstage and he’d rushed off to the bathroom, swearing he was going to be sick.

“Sweetheart,” you called out, “you’re going to drive yourself insane. It’s thirty minutes until you’re on, you’ve got this. Just think of it as another concert. You guys have done loads of those, this is just another one. You sold out in LA too!”

“I know,” he mumbled, eyes still tight around the corners.

“Eddie, I-”

His hand on your arm stopped you. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do?” You said, smiling at his animated expression.

“Yes. Eddie, you play really well, you’ve earned this, you guys have a growing fanbase, the debut album is on the top one hundred, I love you, you look like a god, and you’ve ruined me for any other guy,” he said, high pitched imitation of your voice. “That orgasm you gave me this morning was your best work.”

“First, I don’t sound like that.” You quirked a brow and he smiled, eyes sparkling and mischievous. “Second, you’re a menace to society.”

Eddie grinned at you, teasing like always, but an idea grew in your head. “But did I lie?” He asked.

You shook your head and reached into the waistband of your skirt. “I know this will be a big shock to you but, that’s actually not what I was going to say.”

Eddie smirked, eyes darting across your face, curious. “Was I close? I can keep guessing.”

“I have something that might keep you calm,” you said, the black lace spilling out of your hand. Eddie’s eyes dropped to your hand clenched around the scrap of fabric.

His brows disappeared into his hair and you smirked. “Is that…”

You leaned forward, grabbing his hand, and spoke lowly, “The black set that you love? Yeah.” Dropping the underwear into his open palm, you grinned at his dumbfounded look.

So, for the first time in the years since you’d been with him, you watched Eddie’s jaw go slack. After fighting demobats, Vecna, escaping the Upside Down, signing to a record label, a few national tours, you didn’t think you were capable of surprising him still. You were glad to see you still had some tricks up your sleeve.

“Did you – is that – holy shit,” Eddie stammered, “please tell me these are the ones that were on your body.”

“Took them off a few minutes ago in the hallway bathroom,” you said, lips trailing down his jaw. You felt his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Thought they’d be good luck for your concert. The same way my lipstick tends to be.”

Stunned into silence, you took advantage of the moment.

You made sure he watched you as you pulled a tube of lipstick from your bra out. His eyes followed your hands as you applied a fresh coat. Leaning over to kiss his neck once firmly, you used a nearby tissue to wipe off the excess from your lips.

“Like when I first watched you play at that club in college, with that girl who kept putting her hands on you,” Eddie grinned, pupils darkening, “I want all your new fans to know that while I’m willing to share - you’re mine. Okay?” Eddie’s expression morphed into a familiar one and you fought the urge to smile. It’d been years and you knew it still pushed all the right buttons when you told him that. Your hand curled around his neck, squeezing just a little in the way you knew drove him crazy.

“And I’m the menace?” Eddie breathed, eyes wild and hands tightening around you. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you just – I’m so turned on right now.”

“It’s a good thing we have about fifteen minutes before everyone probably piles back into the green room,” you whispered, walking back through the bathroom and locking the door. Sauntering over to him, you bit down on the other side of his neck and mouthed around the sensitive skin. Eddie twitched as his hands came down to your hips and he maneuvered you onto his lap. You squeaked as you helped him move you both into a comfortable position and laughed when you were level with his excited expression.

“You’re unbelievable,” he breathed, the excited familiar glint in his eye making your stomach flip.

Tapping your chin with your index finger, you pretended to look deep in thought. “You know, I like to say that to myself every morning so my sparkle doesn’t dull,” you quipped back.

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, the last remnants of his anxiety falling away. “Someone’s feeling sarcastic today,” he teased, tongue dragging across his bottom lip. You felt your blood simmer and experimentally ground down into his hips.

“It’s a side effect from being around you too long,” you said, determined to have the last word.

Grinning, Eddie looked ready with a rebuttal but you dropped your lips to his. Your restraint snapped at the same time because your hands immediately collided.

“Fuck,” Eddie mumbled as you sucked a hickey below the lipstick mark, your teeth nipping at his skin, “I love you so much, Peach, so much.”

Smiling, you lapped at the bruised skin almost in apology and startled when you felt his cool hand cup you beneath your skirt. Wasting no time, he took advantage at the lack of barriers and sunk his fingers into you.

“Eddie,” you said, panting a little as his fingers rubbed you in the right spot. “Eddie, there’s no time for us to-”

He tutted. “You can’t start something and not finish.”

Your breath hitched as his knees nudged your own further apart. “Eddie, anyone can walk into the green room and hear us,” you gasped as he brushed against the bundle of nerves. His wide grin told you he was enjoying this.

“Should’ve thought about that before you handed me your underwear, Princess. You know I can’t get enough of you as it is,” he said between open mouthed kisses to your neck.

Mind scrambled already, you panted. “We might not have enough time for the both of us,” you said, hand coming to stop his.

Eddie stilled, leaning back to look at your face. “We have time for you, I can tell,” he said, twitching against you. Trying not to smile, you knew you failed when he beamed at you.

This night wasn’t about you – it was about him. You knew he’d never it go, like a dog with a bone. Well, you could be stubborn too. “Both of us or nothing,” you said, eyes slanting and tone turning bossy.

He huffed. “Princess-”

Hand coming back up to his neck, you lifted yourself above him and pressed him into the velvety chair. “You’re not in charge here.”

The hardness beneath you grew steadily. Groaning, he dropped his head and pulled his hand back to your hip. “You’re killing me Peach, you’re killing me.”

You leaned over to grab at his wrist and smiled when you saw the time. “What I did was successfully distract you to showtime.”

“What?” Eddie said, checking the time himself. “You little enchantress.”

“You’re a little predictable,” you admitted, letting your arms rest around his neck. You dug one hand into his hair, raking your nails across his scalp softly while the other unbuckled Eddie’s pants and shoved his underwear down just far enough. He sprung out, searing hot and already leaking.

Eddie grunted, hand stilling yours but you smacked it away. “Both of us or nothing Munson,” you said again, plucking a condom from your bra.

Pupils blown, he gaped. “Jesus, what else do you have in there?”

Laughing, you rolled it onto him and winked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You both groaned when you seated yourself fully onto him. The angle and force were unforgiving, tears almost instantly gathering at the corner of your eyes.

“Holy shit,” you hissed, needing a second. It’d been a while since you’d both found yourselves both unable to keep your hands off each other and pressed for time. The sudden stretch ached a little but you could handle it. “Okay?” You asked him, already starting to lift yourself off him.

Eddie’s face was flushed bright red, his head thrown back, and hands clenched around your shirt. “Yeah, I’m perfect,” he croaked.

With a familiar urgency, you set an unrelenting pace and your skin smacked against his. The sound was lewd and loud but you couldn’t help and drown in it. It only took a few moments for your thighs to begin to shake and Eddie hauled you to your feet.

Whining at the loss of him, he maneuvered you against the sink, arms resting on the cold marble. Your eyes caught his in the mirror, his hair was wild from where you’d been clutching at it. “Be quiet for me, Princess,” he said, giving your ass a smack and laughing when you squeaked.

“I swear to God Eddie if you don’t-” you hissed the moment he slammed into you, both of you fumbling with the force. His hand settled on your hip and the other trailed down to the bundle of nerves between your legs. If you could think past the heat curling in your stomach and your racing pulse you would’ve remembered to be embarrassed at how rapidly you fell apart in his hands during a quickie.

Your head fell down to your arms, white flashing across your eyelids, your legs threatening to give out from under you as he kept thrusting into you. Oversensitive almost immediately, you needed him to join you. Trembling, you used the last of your energy to reach for him. Your hand tugged him to you, his hair tangled around your fingers. Biting down on his bottom lip, you swallowed his moan, pulled his curls a touch shy of painful, and felt his hips stumble. He stilled, his grip on your hip bruising and you both collapsed against the counter.

“Holy shit,” Eddie stammered, “I think I’m blind.”

Snorting, you swatted him and he weakly stumbled away. With shaking hands, you pulled your skirt back up and straightened your shirt. “I’m insulted,” you said, taking a few deep breaths as you got the feeling back in your feet. Shaking out your left leg, you fanned at your warm face.

“What?”

“That wasn’t even some of my best work,” you told him, smiling when he grinned. He jumped as he pulled his pants back up his legs and you did your best not to ogle him.

Not one to let it go unnoticed, Eddie smirked. “What? Ready for round two?”

Your laughter echoed as your breathe settled. “We don’t have time for round two,” you said, shoving at his shoulder. He settled into the chair and pulled you down with him. Steady in his lap again, you flicked his nose. “This is how round one started...fourteen minutes ago. Oh, new record for the both of us.”

“Is it?” He asked, pretending to look oblivious. “Huh, what a coincidence.”

Running a hand through his hair, you untangled a few pieces delicately and shook your head at him. “You’re relentless,” you said, “you’d think after this long you’d learn to exercise some restraint.”

“Who followed who into the bathroom?” Eddie’s brow quirked.

“True,” you said, “but you looked about two seconds from passing out. I had to do something.”

“A quickie was the solution?”

You grinned, shameless. “You seem much more relaxed,” you said with a shrug.

“I’d be even more relaxed if I could just, woops,” he said in faux worry, pulling your shirt’s strap out onto your shoulder. Your shirt was loose enough that the black lace was visible. “Ugh, I do love this set.” He leaned his cheek onto your breasts and you snorted.

“Would you like me to leave you three alone?”

“Honestly, I could die happy right here,” he said, licking a stripe up the lace, making sure to mouth at your nipple. The suction sent a shiver throughout your body and you scrambled to rein it in.

Pinching his side, Eddie yelped. “Behave,” you warned, already feeling the telltale sign of him gearing up for a second round beneath you.

Eddie nipped at your skin in retaliation and you squeaked, laughing when he had to dart forward to keep you from falling. At that moment, the door behind you opened. Steve’s face swam into your peripheral and he stood frozen for a beat before slamming the door shut.

“What the fuck?” You heard someone say through the door.

“Can you guys not keep it in your pants for any occasion?” Steve shouted; his voice muffled. “Have I need been tortured enough throughout the years?”

“What?” Someone shouted followed by a very Dustin sounding gagging noise.

“Get it, Munson!” Robin shouted, her laugh echoing.

Gareth’s voice thundered. “For the love of suffering Jesus, can you both get yourselves under control!”

Eddie grinned, giving the swell of your breast one last nip before helping you stand. You straightened your skirt and shot Eddie a look to behave. In response, he shoved your underwear into his back pocket and winked at you.

Casually opening the door, you grinned at your friends. “Managed to get him to calm down,” you joked, laughing when mostly everyone groaned.

“Get a room!” Steve muttered.

“Yeah, we had one,” Eddie said, coming up behind you. “Everyone okay?”

“Aside from adding another traumatic event to my pile?” Steve grunted, leaning against the far wall. “Peachy.”

Eddie snorted and you laughed. “Sorry Stevie,” you said, widening your eyes. “We were both fully clothed. To be fair, I did walk in on you and your exes like fifty times over the years because you have the inability to properly lock a room. So really, I’m just evening out the playing field.”

Steve’s jaw dropped in outrage and you watched as the group descended into familiar chaos. Eddie’s arm dropped around your shoulders and he pulled you into his chest. His heartbeat pulsed through you, strong and quick.

“Corroded Coffin?” One of the PAs called out. “Fiona says we need you by stage left in five.”

“They’ll be right there,” Nancy said when everyone froze.

Dustin was the first to move. “Shit, we gotta get good spots in the VIP section – I want to record some of it. Come on!” Most of the group called out encouragement, slapping the guys’ shoulders.

“Hey,” you said, before you extracted yourself from his arms, “you did it, sweetheart. You made it here. Just another little ol’ concert, okay?”

Eddie exhaled deeply and nodded.

“I love you, Mr. Munson.” you said, smacking his ass hard enough for him to stumble. “Kick ass and play like our lives depend on it.”

Laughing, Eddie shook his head and pressed one last kiss to your lips. “I love you too, Mrs. Munson,” he inhaled deeply and shook his head, “let’s start every concert off this way from now on, okay?” He grunted when you swatted at him.

Fifteen minutes later, you watched as the crowd around you screamed once the first chords echoed throughout the stadium. A familiar voice greeted the crowd.

“Hello New York City! How are you all doing tonight?” Eddie grinned, his smile almost splitting his face in two.

Your heart sung as Eddie settled into his well-rehearsed spot. The lights dimmed and the crowd went eerily quiet. Breath caught in your lungs, you pressed your hands to your chest and hoped everything went according to plan.

Then, cutting through the darkness, Garret’s voice softly echoed.

“One, two, three, four!”

A/N2: I liiiiiiiiiive! So, in my defense, I got so sick (seriously, guys, I've never been this fkn sick in my entire life) and the holidays hit me like a truck. But, alas, I'm back! (kinda? lmao) Hope you guys had a great new year!

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #smut

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curewhimsy · 6 months

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It makes me sad how stereotypically white I am sometimes /vent

I’m half black and half Korean and I constantly feel disconnected to my black side, which is the color that stands out the most on my face.

I just feel like I don’t belong in the black community. I want to belong. I DO have internalized racism but I am trying my best to work through it. I haven’t yet learned to be proud of my skin, which I feel sets me apart when more. Also, I love Japanese pop culture so much and I feel like that’s such a “white people interest.”

I know it isn’t right, but in middle and high school I was depressed because I wasn’t born in Japan. Over time I eventually learned not to fetishize and to love myself, but I’ve never really met another black person with my level of weebiness. A lot of black/POC had to mature early because life dealt them a bad hand. I am extremely privileged in that aspect. I haven’t personally faced most of the oppression other black or POC have. So I’m very sheltered and I don’t know how to stand up for myself. Shy and meek black people like me exist. But I have rarely ever seen it represented.

On top of all that, I’m mentally ill and cannot hide it. I lost count how many times depression and CPTSD is considered as some white people shit or wheveter. Black people might have even higher ratios of mental illness (probably) but learned to hide their disabilities or don’t realize they have it because of lack of awareness. I feel different because mine are so obvious. I feel like such an outsider.

Sorry if this post is somehow offensive, but every day I struggle with not feeling black enough. I’m not trying to put all black people into a box or pull the “not like other (black) girls card” because I feel a lot of people feel similarly to me but can’t embrace it because black people are always expected to be a certain way. I’m sick of it.

#Not black enough #Black culture #black tumblr

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milflewis · 10 months

Note

Please do more of the Yukierre fake dating AU, I'm quite invested now. (I am from that "they're looking at us" one)

prev fic.

They come out at pretty much the same time. It wasn’t planned.

Or, well, Yuki’s wasn’t planned. Pierre’s was — months upon months of Pierre talking to Lewis over the phone, early in the morning, sun just peeking over the tops of buildings, having seen the way his smile lived in the lines on his face in between drivers briefings and race weekends, the rainbow flag on his helmet then saying to the world something more than allyship; weeks and weeks of video chats with Sebastian, who never had all the answers, whose career both with and not with Redbull was so completely different from Pierre’s but whose advice was hoarded all the same.

Pierre had told all his family; not one by one individually but group by group. Not that he wasn’t straight, not that he was bisexual, but that he was coming out as not straight, coming out as bisexual.

He had let Alpine know a working week — five business days — before he announced it. “Give them time to react, to prepare, to strategise pr amongst themselves,” Lewis had said, eyes kind. “But not enough for them to really worry, not enough for them to do anything.”

The paddock had exploded, the media having a field day.

When Lewis had come out two years earlier, six months before he retired, the racing world cracked wide open. For all that there had been speculation over the years, a lot of it slimy and disingenious, based on his clothes and his proud support of anyone other and the gentle way he moved through the paddock, sparkling from ears to nose to fingers, it had still come as a surprise to many.

Most of the drivers had stood by him — or at the very least, not stood against him. Fernando’s reaction had made Pierre stop, unsure on how he thought he’d respond but knowing that he wouldn’t have guessed this.

Lewis had only laughed when being faced with the clip of Fernando giving out; his first race win in over a decade outshone by Lewis’s announcement, “Stop asking me about Lewis and penises. Who cares. I won, he lost, did you not see me win?”

Pierre is sure that it wasn't a coincidence that Sebastian turned up at the race following Lewis's coming out.

His coming out video had 4, 452, 981 more views than his retirement announcement. Both broke the internet; Formula One once again seeping into mainstream media.

A handful more drivers stood with Pierre when he eventually came out, a perfectly planned instagram post with a caption that had been edited and edited and edited.

The buzz of it all was finally dying down - Pierre being asked more racing questions than not - when Yuki, exhilarated and giddy and pink-cheeked, sweat damp under his eyes, straight from his second race win with Mercedes, said, unthinking to an inane fluff question about the dating, "Hmm? Yes. I was seeing someone, very casual, but no longer. He couldn't keep up with all the flights and countries! I understood him."

Yuki had even laughed after, moving away quickly to join Ted, eager to talk about the race, his pr attaché left pale behind him.

A lot of people had expected Yuki to shrug it off, say how difficult it is to filter questions through two languages and back again, especially right out of the car, to do another oh, sorry, sorry, it's like when I called Pierre a boyfriend or girlfriend years ago haha. A slip of the tongue.

Yuki had not meant to say it, that Pierre knows. He's sure he had stewed over it for weeks, angry with himself, frustrated at something so stupid. Pierre could picture the shape of his jaw, the tilt of his chin.

Yuki hadn't laughed it off - not that Pierre had thought he would. Yuki had never been one to blink first, to call chicken when he was still in the race.

One month and three weeks. That was the gap between them. Seven weeks. Close enough for people to joke - and not joke - about how maybe they were connected.

And it would've been - a joke that is - if Yuki had rolled his eyes and laughed when asked, a race later. But instead, he had stared the camera down, face blank, team coat sipped up to his throat, and said, "I am here to talk about the car. Not who is in my bed."

Or maybe, if Pierre is being honest with himself, which is something he tries to do nowadays, it wasn't because of Yuki and his refusal to play along with the media, maybe it was how Pierre went bright red, choking on his straw, and a little wide-eyed, when he was asked. The way his voice broke on Yuki's name as he tried to answer was equally as damning.

Turns out, having two drivers, who have a history together that fans already adore, especially when only one of them is regularly at the front, date is great for viewership. And Mercedes had been gathering pro-LGBTQ+ whatever sponsorships for a while now since Lewis, so they stood firm behind Yuki and pushed and pushed and pushed until Alpine agreed.

(The blurry photos from last year's end of season party where Pierre is helping Yuki up, hands on his waist, head bent low, and Yuki is looking up, face turned towards Pierre, and it looks like it's more than it is, more than just two friends, didn't help.)

And so, they fake date. Which is - fine, Pierre supposes. Except for the part that he's been in love with Yuki since Alpha Tauri - known it since that first year in Alpine - and Yuki, well, Yuki doesn't love him back, now does he?

#ngl i did comepletely forget about this fic thank u anon this was fun!#yukierre #fake dating au #little fics #anon tag #niamh. asks

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curedeity · 7 months

Text

Yooo!!!! Anyone wanna see all the assets I made for the first part of my hikaru visual novel!

First of all, I was honestly surprised by how few I had. Even then, theres a lot I wouldve wanted to put more effort into. Its good this is just a prologue then, as it let me figure out what worked for me

These are all six Hikaru sprites I made for this first part of the game. I really like all of them, except the angry sprite, which I struggled with the posing of (might try redrawing it). Her design was pretty simple, I went off the show pretty closely while changing a few of the colors slightly. I decided pretty early on not to shade my sprites, so I would feel more confident about making more. I also decided to give her two more neutral sprites, one a bit more serious, so I could switch between them for different emotional moments in dialogue.

Ryo only got three sprites, which is a testament to how much I hate drawing this man and how much. well. he really just had some of the easiest emotional beats for me to capture. I like his neutral sprite (the first one) the best and am very proud of it!

Madokas sprites... I love them, but now I'm worried because I realized I want to give her a different, maybe slightly more grown up design for later portions. I worry that her using her fusion outfit accidently complicates people's understanding of when this takes place. Either way, if i want to change her, I'll just change her, but dnndlbgbgdjgjlbs sorry for any confusion that might cause. Im actually very happy with all her sprites! Her thinking sprite was the funnest to come up with

These are my backgrounds. Im sure you can tell which ones I had screenshots to base them on. I'm very proud of Madoka's workshop, but otherwise, I plan to work on my background skills a lot. They're very fun and I want to improve at them!

Now, there are two more art assets im not posting here, which are the two ending cgs. So if you want them... Well actually the video only includes the good one but i have a video of the good ending on my blog! please go check it out! the game is also posted to my discord server.

As a bonus though! Here are some development drawings.

In the first draft, I used a completely different sort of sprite shot. I also directly color picked from her reference with no changes. And I hadnt figured out how to draw her hair.

So these first drafts included a lot of changes to Madoka's design... that I just forgot to include in my redraws. Welp, next time you see her, she might be beat up! I had a lot of solid concepts for what i wanted her sprite work to look like, so just transferred that into my redraws.

#beyblade metal fight #beyblade #hikaru hasama #madoka amano #ryo hagane #mfb #hikaru visual novel #between stars and dust #art #my art #fan art

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backfromtwitterforw · 2 months

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I'm sorry I guess this post is not gonna be well organized or well written, it's just thoughts dumping and believe me this post is not even related to the discourse and drama, I would've posted it anyway sooner or later cause it's been on my mind since the restart.

I get why people could be upset about the reboot lorewise, I am too in a way, I absolutely want Aypierre to log on and Bbh to continue his soul vulture lore for exemple. I absolutely agree there should be an better communication with ccs about huge changes like that.

Yet, having this fresh start/early day experience for streamers or for viewers like me who joined later (I arrived with the french) is sooo fun and so enjoyable. I know it'll never be the same as when qsmp actually started, but still, seeing them with nothing, exploring, building, bounding... I love those streams very much! I watched BBH's vod from before the french arrive, but I'm so happy to be able to watch him and Dapper have long exploration time together.

But, yeah, originally I wanted to talk about how glad I am to see Dapper excited again! Our little collector is always so proud to show his animals, his plants, his weapons, and we are all so proud of him too! So for him to have all those new things to obtain is making me really happy!!!!!! I can't help thinking about his place at the egg museum with his encyclopedia. All the care he gives to the knowledge of the serv environment is so endearing and I'm glad he has more to discover (or more accurately to make us discover ^^').

And even if it was only for this reason, it's enough for me to love that they did this restart.

#qsmp #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp2024 #qsmp aypierre #qsmp dapper

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pdrrook · 7 months

Note

hi!! i'm sorry if i pop up in your ask box too frequently BUT I AM just really very interested in like the lore behind laurent's childhood and laurent's parents in general!!!! if it's not too spoiler-y, can you tell us like any trivia about about sylvia and/or bernard and their relationship? or how they raised laurent? they're just very fascinating imo because they're like,,, they absolutely do not care about their son (LMAO) but they're in love with each other? and that's so!!! interesting????

Hi hi! It’s always great to see a familiar avi!

A very long post, just so you know:

Oh yeah, let’s go.

Both Sylvia and Bernard come from govt-aligned families that pride themselves in consisting of mostly 5s. They both were fine with the idea of arranged marriage, which is a norm because a)having two 5s as parents = greater chance for a kid who’s a 5 too, and b)they tend to follow ‘logic’ more than emotions. They did fall in love naturally tho, and would have married anyway, but because of their backgrounds their families were really happy about the match.

Neither of them cared about children because they never grew up with caring parents either. Bernard was more lukewarm to the idea, in the sense that if Sylvia wanted a child, he’d give her one, whereas Sylvia never wanted one because a)she’s naturally not inclined and b)of what happened to her sister (who couldn’t stand the family pressure and ended up committing suicide).

Now, because Sylvia was the only child left, the pressure shifted to her, and when she made the mistake of letting her mother know that apparently she was pregnant but lost the child (she didn’t really care about that, and would have canceled the pregnancy anyway) her mother latched onto the idea to the point that after a while she put everything (aka the inheritance etc) on one card and demanded that if Sylvia doesn’t have a child, she will disown her.

Sylvia’s biggest fear was not meeting expectations, she was brought up like that and that's her core issue, she’d do anything to meet certain criteria (and like Laurent's later) more often than not her own expectations set for herself were even bigger than everyone else’s. So when her mother said basically ‘it’s not a big deal, just give birth and have a nanny take care of the child’ Sylvia thought okay, that sounds doable, and went with it. I said that about her before, but she’s a perfect example of why you shouldn’t force people who don’t want children to have children, and yes while it was ultimately her own choice, it was under parental pressure, which for someone with her upbringing was impossible to ignore, especially since Bernard as her partner was raised the same way.

So they did have Laurent, but from the moment she was pregnant with him, she knew she wanted nothing to do with him. Later on, when he’s an adult, she does feel proud of him, of what he became, but she never really loved him when he was a child. Bernard, on the other hand, was the only one who visited Laurent in hospitals etc though the visits were mostly an obligation, something he felt she should do as a father, like the bare minimum he should do, he treated it more like a job than actual parenting.

The child resembled him a lot, in looks and countenance, and since he had no experience being cared for as a kid, he treated Laurent the same way he was treated ('I was brought up like this, and I am fine now' logic), but he had the same expectations of himself like of Laurent because of the similarities, so he was extra harsh on him. If the child resembled Sylvia, he would have been more lenient. And that’s why if he were to have a grandchild he’d be a very lenient grandfather (as opposed to Sylvia who’d might grow closer to the child only once they're in their teens or early adulthood).

Now Sylvia treats Rene warmer than she did Laurent because Rene was always very obedient, and Sylvia felt a bit responsible for her after Rene’s mother passed. It reminded her of her sister's passing (they were never that close, the whole family is distant, but the way her sister choose to go is something that she never forgot).

Now as to how they raised Laurent, he raised himself, basically. For the first couple of years, he had nannies, but he wasn't close with any of them (that was the point of having several). He rarely saw Sylvia, perhaps for the better because if he stayed longer in their house he would grow up feeling like he was lacking something. After his affliction presented, he hopped from one hospital to another until they sent him to a private academy. Thanks to living away from his parents he had a new outlook, and after he returned home post-graduation and realized that now his parents had some specific expectations set for him after basically yoloing him his whole life, he decided to leave and cut ties with them.

Sylvia really didn’t care about his choices as long as they didn’t convince her and put her family in a bad light. Bernard was more strict, again because he saw himself in Laurent. They both didn't like the idea of Laurent joining the SPD (instead of any other department), but Laurent didn’t want to work under his mother in drug control and prevention, even if she could pull the strings to get him there. Sylvia thought he was being obtuse and silly because ‘why risk your life when you can just work there quietly’ and for Bernard it was 'just another act of rebellion' like when Laurent got himself a bike. He 100% expected Laurent to come crawling back because he couldn't comprehend the idea of someone actually cutting ties with their family for realzies.

About relationships, Bernard especially is hypocritical because if Sylvia was a 4 he would have eloped with her, but in Laurent's case he expects him to do everything he is told, and he's dismayed when Laurent refuses to get married off repeatedly.

Now Bernard wouldn’t care about their kid being a 4 or even not afflicted at all, but Sylvia would (I mean look at her and what she did, right, having another 4 in the family would be too much), though at the same time, she doesn’t like Laurent’s affliction because it’s troublesome.

Aside from that, Laurent’s grandmother died shortly after Laurent was born, otherwise he would have been spoiled rotten by her.

He got his name after his late aunt, she would have actually loved him, but she was gone, so.

Bernard’s side of the family is super distant, so they only saw each other during family gatherings and such.

Laurent’s first real family-like connection was with his SPD boss, who was a person with a strong drive, he wanted to use a bad situation to help people, and Laurent admired that and wanted to be just like him.

Okay, the trivia now lmao:

Sylvia's cat was a gift from Bernard, she didn't even know she liked cats, but he noticed her pay special attention to like ads of them etc

they both have very stern and kinda chaotic temperaments, they are prone to berating ppl and yelling even, but together they sort of disable each other? instead of making each other worse. They genuinely never argue bc their outlook and habits are very similar, but at the same time they don't find each other boring because they both love stability,

they don't travel often because they tend to just stay in the hotels and work remotely instead of sightseeing.

Whew!

#bernard's visits are basically like in that one snipped i possted on patreon #he pops in and out sits there 10 minutes and off he goes #thinks to himself wow i am such a good dad my parents wouldn't even bother 10/10 parenting bernard #pfm #laurent #bernard #sylvia #rene

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i-fondued · 1 year

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Ghost | Sinners in Secret - Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty Three - The Prime Mover Ritual Incident Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin x Papa “Terzo” Emeritus III Rating: Explicit Warnings: Plot, smut, etc. See AO3 for full list of tags! A/N: I AM ALIVE AHAHA, it had been a long week. I am so so SO sorry I couldn't get this out any sooner, hopefully this is worth the wait. Next chapter won't be posted till the friday after this coming friday just to give myself some extra time and buffer because working two jobs and not getting home till almost 11pm 4 nights a week is really cramping my style.

As always, this chapter is has been reviewed by my beta, @lurancyvenom whom I love!

Full Chapter List - HERE AO3 Link - HERE

Traditionally, I was told, the Prime Mover ritual was held as the sun rose so the large monastery chapel was bathed in blood red morning light.

It had been decided that trying to organize the ritual while also waiting until I had been cleared by the healers was not going to happen, thus the ceremony and ritual had been moved from early morning to dusk. Instead of the rising sun greeting me as I rose above the ranks of Siblings and Clergymen, I was to be greeted by the twilight and bright moonlight. It was going to be a cloudless night was what Sister Imperator told me as she and the other Sisters arrived to dress me for my second to last, yet most important ritual.

“How are you feeling, Sister?” Imperator coaxed, hand resting gently on my bare shoulder as I was allowed to soak in the heat of the bath that had been drawn for me while I tried to calm my slowly frazzling nerves.

“Physically? Fine. Emotionally? Anxious,” I shrugged sheepishly, a small smile on my lips. “This feels like the biggest moment of my life and I’m worried I’m going to screw it up…”

“I wouldn’t worry, Cardinal Copia and Papa will be there with you, and I know you’ve practiced and drilled with Secondo for your parts.” She smiled, a warm motherly look on her face for a moment before she fought to put it away. “You’ve come into this role more than I had ever expected or ever dreamed of. You’ve blown my expectations out of the water. I’m proud to know you’ve come into your own since joining us at the Abbey.”

“T-Thank you, Sister Imperator,” I stuttered, voice thick with tears as I took her outstretched hand and squeezed it firmly. “It means a lot to me that you and everyone here had welcomed me all those years ago, I don’t think I’d ever have been this happy with a normal life…whatever normal is anyways…”

We laughed at ourselves as we wiped at the tears threatening to spill. We were two women from very different walks of life, but here we were together in Rome only hours away from myself becoming the closest thing we in the Clergy had to royalty. If anyone had told me what my life had in store for me when I took the habit, I would have laughed at them until I cried tears of disbelief.

“Come, Sorella. Let us get you ready.” One of the sisters came over to the bath, holding her hand out to me to help me from the sunken tub.

“Of course, thank you,” I smiled as another Sister helped wrap a towel around me and only paused slightly as her eyes floated over the large golden scar.

I felt my cheeks heat up before she apologized under her breath and continued to help dry me off, making a point to not let her eyes drift over my chest again. The two Sisters worked together, just like every ritual before this, buffing me with various abrasive cloths, and massaging my body with both fragrance and ritual oils. I could tell they were both mumbling something in Latin as they worked, but what they were chanting I couldn’t decipher. Once all of the various oils and creams laid out on the countertop were fully rubbed in, both women helped me into an enormous silk robe and tied the belt snugly around my waist.

“Time to eat something, Sister. You will need your strength for this long night,” one Sibling said, bowing to me as they led me from my bathroom to a table by the fireplace.

I looked around my bedroom, half hoping to see either Copia or Terzo, but they had long since been kicked out while I was getting ready. Only Swiss was here, sitting in the wingback chairs with our lunch on the table near him. Imperator was in the other corner of the room with two other Sisters who were rushing to set up the many, many, many layers of fabric that would eventually be helped onto my frame. My eyes widened a fraction and panic nipped at my heels as I thought about just how heavy the final garment would be. Behind the three women, on top of a dresser by the window were the layers of veils and several crowns and hairpins that would be added in the end.

“Sunshine, stop freaking out. I can feel it in my balls,” Swiss laughed, teasing me knowing it would pull my attention away from the anticipation of the evening.

“Gross, Swiss…I didn’t need to know that,” I laughed, the silk of my robe swishing against the ground as I walked over and sat down with him.

My mouth was watering as I saw the spread in front of me; a plate of chicken, roasted vegetables, and yellow rice. I tried to not inhale it, but before I could help myself I was already halfway done with the meal as Swiss chatted with me about the day and how my lovers were waiting for me.

“They both are anxious about seeing you, but they are also having to go through formal preparation.”

“Preparations?” I asked, staring at him quizzically.

“What? Did you think only you have to get greased up and wear about a hundred layers and pounds of fabric?” He laughed and I flicked a roasted tomato at him.

“You are feisty today, did you sleep too much?”

“I slept like a baby, thank you very much.”

We chatted and laughed, a part of me so relieved that there wasn’t any tension between Swiss and I. Especially with everything that had happened because of Veritas. Once I managed to eat everything on my plate, sip on the glass of water that had been left for me, and relax a little again, I found Sister Imperator coming over to collect me.

“It’s just about time, my dear. Are you ready?”

“Let’s do this.”

…

I felt like a Russian princess as I stood in front of the three mirrors set up to be able to see my gown from every angle. It had taken the better part of an hour to get me dressed and ready, that didn’t even include my various veils and crowns that had yet to be put on.

They started with a simple linen chemise that settled off my shoulders, then helped me into stockings that were tied tightly at the knee so they wouldn’t slip down and a pair of simple leather flats. Next was a Victorian style corset, cinching my waist in small but giving me support for the next few layers of the heavy gown. Over that was a thin linen petticoat and then a bustle cage to support the skirts and smooth out the bustle and train of the dress.

Two of the Sisters helped me guide the underskirt over my head. Made of white silk taffeta, it had a strip of buttons from the skirt up into a strip that would eventually be fixed to my bodice. On either side of the buttons was the most extravagant gold embroidery, all hand stitched and meticulously mirrored on either side. Among the swirling patterns of vines and leaves were many symbols for fertility, good fortune, and piety; all were worked along with the grucifix and crest of the Emeritus family that were sewn by hand into the silk.

The overdress, which was open like a robe, was part skirt and part bodice. It took all four of the Sisters to help me into this outfit. The open skirt was put into place first by hook and eye closures at my cinched waist, then the bodice was slipped over my arms and I watched as the four women worked together to settle the heavy velvet fabric of the overskirt and attach the strip of buttons up the front closure. The bodice had a low neckline, sweeping across my bust, and settled right on the very edge of my shoulders; the edge just barely visible was a soft ruffle of lace. It also had long open, hanging sleeves that reminded me of the style that elves wore in fantasy movies.

Mimicking the design of the two skirts, the bodice was split with a white section down the middle to match the underskirt, with both the gold embroidery and strip of buttons. The red section copied the look of the overskirt with gold piping along the faux edge and even more of the intricate embroidery. The red velvet overdress had a long sweeping train, and all along the edges of the skirts were more golden stitches. In the center of the train was my own personal monogram seal that came with my ascension. Completely absorbed in taking in my reflection, a hand gently settling on my bare shoulder startled me.

“We leave in five minutes, Your Eminence,” one of the Sisters spoke softly behind me as I stood, completely absorbed and overwhelmed by how I was dressed.

“Y-Yes, thank you Sister,” I stuttered, looking back at my make-up as the other Siblings gathered to help put on the final layers of veils before our departure.

They had kept my hair mostly simple due to the coming veils and headdresses, a low and windswept bun at the nape of my neck, but my makeup was what stood out the most. My skin was dewy, my lips soft and pink. It was my eyes that had been done up dramatically. The Sisters had made my eyes look both bright and sultry with rouge eyeshadow; trailing from my eyes and down my cheeks were droplets of golden ichor, several large teardrops hanging in suspension on my cheeks. Leaning in slightly to check my reflection I smiled softly as I could see Swiss in the reflection of the mirror, leaning against the wall casually.

“You’ll be fine, Sunshine,” he chuckled, winking through the silver of his mask. I gave him a slight nod and couldn’t help the heavy sigh that slipped from my lips.

“I know, I know,” I laughed as I turned to him, the soft sound of layers of satin and velvet swishing as I turned back and forth towards him. “What do you think? I clean up nice, right?”

“You look like a princess.” He chuckled, he was also dressed in full finery. “A Princess of surprisingly not Italian origin, considering where we are…”

“They tried to get me to wear another antique dress from the renaissance and I fought with Sister Imperator until we agreed on a reproduction gown. I much prefer the grandeur of the Romanovs myself…” I rolled my eyes but smiled at Swiss as the Sisters came back in with Imperator right behind them.

“Time for the finishing touches, Sister,” Imperator smiled brightly, gesturing to the veils waiting for me on the bed. “Sister Maja will carry the final veil, as that will be put in place during your ritual. Sister Ester will carry the headdress, and Sister Lenora will carry your final dress. Everything else we’ll need to place now.”

The first veil was a white lace that came to just barely brush against my bare upper arms, the thin gossamer material light enough to flutter as the Sisters milled about me while they pinned it in place. The second one was slightly shorter and was made in the same style but in gold threads. Both were pinned to just barely dust against my forehead and over that was the heaviest of the items I was expected to wear. Draped over my head slowly, as to not pull the light lace veils out of place, was a heavy veil made of royal blue silk.

The edge was scalloped and piped with gold along with the same matching golden embroidery everything else I was wearing was covered in. The hem stopped just shy of dusting the floor and flowed outward with the skirts of my dress. It was enormous and I already felt weighed down by both the veil and the heavy velvet dress, however the final step was to add a gold, diamond encrusted diadem in the style of a saintly halo to hold everything in place.

Imperator clapped, gaining everyone's attention from fawning over my dress before we followed each other out of the room. “Alright, we're going to be cutting it close. Let’s go ladies.”

I couldn’t help but find it wasteful to go through all this effort for things that would be removed in the end. It was part of the ceremony of this transformation, of leaving my secular world behind in a haze of incense and ritual for my mortal form to ascend to another higher being.

Or at least that was what Secondo said the ritual was about.

As Swiss took my arm, guiding me out of the Papal suites and down dusky hallways towards the massive Monastery chapel, I felt my anxiety really creep up. The hallways were almost completely empty, most people having already made their way inside the space as we lined up and waited for our cue to enter. I could hear the sound of the organ playing and my palms began to sweat.

“Sunshine…?” Swiss whispered to me, concern obvious in his voice. “Do you need me to help you make a break for it? I think I can carry you even with the forty pounds of fabric you’re wearing.”

“No, I’m okay,” I laughed. “I can do this.” I smiled warmly, though I know I didn’t reach my eyes. “I can, right?”

“You are our Prime Mover, Lucifer sent you himself to not only shepard us but to become the Mama to our Papa and the Cardinal. If there is anyone who could do it, it would be you.”

“Thank you, Swiss.”

Without another word, the large wooden doors opened and the procession started. I watched as the Sisters headed towards the altar, the chapel already full and people standing against the walls to get even just a glimpse of this momentous moment in my own life, let alone theirs. Vaguely I registered music and a chorus singing, but I was too busy looking at the altar to notice even the fine decoration adorning the space. Swiss was the only thing keeping me grounded as we made our way slowly to the altar, and I took in the sight of Terzo and Copia in their finery.

Terzo was dressed in his purple lined chasuble, however over that was a long black cape, clipped with gold chains over his heart, with purple accents and gold embroidery. He also wore a stole, draped around his neck and adorned with the same golden filigree motif as my own dress. The skirts of the cape trailed behind him slightly as he walked up to the altar, his arms raised and his head bowed in my direction, a small smirk barely contained. On his head he wore his normal Papal mitre, long black strips trailing down his back, and black leather gloves with golden nail tips. Terzo’s Papal paints were done so sharply I know it had taken him twice as long as normal. When he winked at me I bit my bottom lip and let my eyes drift away from him to the other man with him.

Copia was standing slightly to the side, but he looked no less spectacular than Terzo. The Cardinal was wearing his choir dress, the highest of formal robes in our organization, in his signature deep red color. However, instead of the stiff wool cassocks I was so used to seeing him in, he was wearing one made of the finest silk. He too had a small train coming from the floor length silk cassock, over which he wore a white alb with a wide lace trim. A red capelet was worn over that, the hem just barely dusting against the crook of his elbows as his hands were pressed together with a grucifix dangling between them.

Instead of his biretta, he wore a red galero. It was a wide brimmed hat with tassels hanging down from either side. His makeup was done as always, not a spot smudged or line wobbled, he looked ethereal and almost otherworldly in the shadow of his enormous brim. I felt myself drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, like a sinner to the darkness. But when I thought I had been transfixed beyond anything, he met my eyes and I watched him swallow hard, stumbling slightly over the prayer he was whispering like a secret.

I felt my heart in my throat knowing that this moment was what we three had been waiting for. I smiled at both of them, unable to hold back my joy any longer, as Swiss helped me up the stairs of the first level of the altar in my heavy dress. I held his arm as I settled to kneel on the pillow waiting for me on the floor, looking up at Terzo who was staring at me like I was the only woman in the entire world. His eyes were filled with a swirling of so many emotions it made me dizzy; my heart thrumming away in my chest as I held my hands together tightly in prayer with the grucifix dangling between my fingers. This was to be the longest of the rituals by far, at least till the binding ritual the next day, and a part of me was worried about kneeling for as long as I had to.

“Welcome, my flock, to this momentous occasion,” Terzo’s voice boomed out over the chapel, and suddenly the space was so quiet I could hear my heavy anxious breathing. It hadn’t even dawn on me when the music and choir had stopped. “It is today of all feast days that we are gathered to watch one of our own rise above to a higher calling.”

He moved from behind the altar as he spoke, coming to stand directly in front of me on the next altar level. He reached out and I felt his hand cup my cheek. I let him tilt my head up to look right at him. Terzo was backlit by the setting sunlight filtering in from the stained glass windows. He looked like sin itself, a wry smirk on his face as I gasped slightly and felt my cheeks flush at the heat in his eyes.

“Sorella has been chosen, she has been sent by Lucifero himself, to ascend. She is to become il Primo Motore, the Prime Mover. No higher honor is offered to another than to become the paramour of an Emeritus, to continue our flock in our celebration and dedication to follow the teachings of our Dark Savior.”

Terzo’s voice was hypnotic, his mismatched eyes were locked with mine, curiously drawing me in like a frantic cry of pleasure in the dead of night. His hand on my cheek was warm even through the leather of the gloves, and when he pulled away I had to fight my instinct to follow his touch with a barely audible whimper.

“But this is not just about Sorella becoming the vessel for the seeds of the next Papa, no? This rituale to bind the followers of Papa to his most arduous and steadfast confidante. For who would Papa be without he beloved, hm?” Terzo’s eyes were so filled with heat and, dare I say, love that my face felt like it was engulfed in flames. I was panting faintly, attempting not to squirm as he refused to look away from me as he spoke.

“Join me in the first of our readings, si?”

As Terzo spoke, reading a passage from our dark texts, I continued with my eyes downcast as I was supposed to be showcasing my piety and service to Lucifer. I mumbled the Dark Lord’s Prayer under my breath, my eyes trying to focus on my trembling hands as we made slow progression towards the next part of the ritual that I’d be expected to participate in. As Terzo’s reading came to a close he came to stand in front of me again, hand resting gently on top of my veiled head.

“You are doing wonderfully, amore,” he whispered as the chapel was let into song by the choir, a slow sultry song of thanks for blessing our flock with a Prime Mover to guide and shepard the Siblings as a mother figure. “Cardinale and I are so proud of you…”

“Thanks, Terzo,” I whispered back, biting my bottom lip and trying to not crack a smile.

“Benedici questa Sorella, portala nel tuo amorevole abbraccio e mostrale la via delle tenebre…” Bless this Sorella, bring her into your loving embrace and show her the way of the darkness… Terzo called out, his own head bent in prayer. It felt silly to ask for protection from Lucifer all things considered over the last few weeks. “Consentile di seguire le orme di Lilith, lascia che diventi tutt'uno con il peccato originale e si elevi per essere degna della tua devozione.” Allow her to follow in Lilith's footsteps, let her become one with original sin and rise to be worthy of your devotion.

I could see Copia out of the corner of my eye, as he moved to bring over the next steps of the ritual for Terzo. He was carrying a chalice, filled with a deep red wine, and a plate with the unholy sacrament. Copia’s eyes locked on mine and he smiled softly, winking when Terzo turned to take the plate from him.

Ti amo, he mouthed and I smiled up at him before mouthing the words back to him. When Terzo spoke, my attention was drawn back to him, looking up with a warmth in my chest I felt I hadn’t felt in weeks.

“I offer this body and blood, the symbols of our Unholy Father, to you Sorella. Will you partake?”

“I shall, willingly,” I responded, opening my mouth and sliding my tongue out slightly, my hands still pressed together and clutching the grucifix between them.

I could see the way the position and image had already started to affect Terzo, who had to clear his throat as he pressed the wafer to my tongue slightly more aggressively than necessary. After looking up at him through my lashes, I felt him hold the goblet to my mouth and tilted the wine into my parted lips. My mind instantly flooded back to the time that Terzo spit the wine in my mouth and I had to fight to keep myself from squirming; though I was sure his smirking face was because he noticed the blush on my cheeks.

Terzo moved away from me then, placing both the plate and chalice back on the altar as I stayed kneeling. Copia stood just to the side, repeating a hymn under his breath as he watched me before remembering that he too had a part to play in this. Jumping slightly as Terzo cleared his throat, he shuffled forward and grabbed the small plate of apple slices. He walked up to me, heat in his eyes clear as he looked down at me. With his free hand Copia mirrored Terzo’s earlier move and reached out to cup my cheek. I couldn’t help but nuzzle against him as well, a content look on my face. Copia smiled before he cleared his throat before speaking.

“Like the first Prime Mover many generations ago, I offer you this apple as a symbol of man’s original fall from grace. Will you accept this knowledge, Sorella?” he asked, voice smooth and sultry as he subtly ran the pad of his leather gloved thumb against my bottom lip. It took me a minute to register that I needed to respond to him.

“I shall, hungrily,” I spoke, voice thick with desire as I watched Copia pick up a slice and press the tip against my lips. His eyes practically begging for entrance as I let him slip the slice between my parted lips.

His eyes were locked on my mouth as I chewed the offered slice and looked up with large, doe-like eyes before he bowed his head to me and took a few steps back. Terzo was there again, as he was to lead the ritual, and smiled at us both.

“Who offers this woman up to her fall from the pinnacle?” he asked. We all knew I had no family in the church to speak of, so we went with the next logical answer. Swiss took the steps up to his spot next to me quickly and I could see him from the corner of my eye.

“I shall offer the lamb to the wolf,” Swiss replied, bowing down to one knee. “Let her serve the Dark One’s will, from the pinnacle to the pit.”

“From the pinnacle to the pit,” was the response from the congregation behind me and I couldn’t help but blush slightly.

“Then you must help this woman shed her earthly confines in favor of her robes fit for her station.”

That was the cue. Suddenly the Sisters from earlier in the day were there and helping me to my feet, Swiss holding out his hand to help me as I stood. What I didn’t know until this moment, I’m sure something Imperator left out conveniently, was that I was not to be moved to the back alcove to change and emerge like a broadway quick-change. No. I was to be stripped where I was standing and it didn’t occur to me till I saw the Siblings bringing over my dress.

“Tricky bitch…” I mumbled as Swiss fought to hold back the laughter I heard him struggling with under his mask as the ritual mass carried on around us.

Both Terzo and, surprisingly, Copia were leading the congregation in a lovely angelic hymn. I could hear Terzo’s voice, clear as a bell, but it was Copia that shocked me enough to make me pause. I hadn’t heard him sing like this before, at least not loud enough to really notice how beautiful his voice was. I felt Swiss tug on the diadem on my head to get my attention and I focused back on the task at hand.

The Sisters helped take off the diadem and veils, and had begun to unbutton the heavy velvet of the bodice before I had even taken a breath. Before I knew it I was standing in nothing but the thin linen chemise that had been my base layer, even the corset was gone. As the hymn came to a close, Terzo began to speak again.

“Lucifer, we beseech you. Protect this woman, your vessel on this plane, as she prepares to ascend to a higher cause.”

The linen material was pulled over my head and I was momentarily nude before the Sisters began to dress me in my official formal Prime Mover robes. I had helped design the garment myself, and after finally seeing them put together I realized that, subconsciously, I had designed the same thing I’d worn in my shared dream with Copia. The black, high neckline and skin tight dress fit like a glove. Even the golden cutout where the grucifix sat over my cleavage was included.

Next was my belt, embroidered with Prime Mover and my seal at the bottom. Much like the previous dress I had on, there was more gold embroidery along the hem and in the center of the small train was the grucifix again. All of the embroidery was accented by shining and shimmering beads and stonework. Quickly black leather gloves were slipped onto my hands, they had golden nails on the fingertips as a nod to Terzo’s own pair. After the dress was finished being buttoned up the back, Swiss helped me kneel again before moving to stand a few steps below me.

“Almighty below, I bestow this woman with my life blood as she will bring forth the blood of my blood; thus the continuation of the line of Emeritus begins anew.” Terzo’s voice was clear, echoing in the marble walls of the abbey as he raised his hand high and sliced his palm.

I watched while mumbling along with the prayers around me, transfixed as he let several drops of blood into the open clay pot of black grease paints sitting on the altar. Speaking in Italian, Terzo offered prayers to Lucifer as he mixed the blood with the cream.

“Tuere eam, dux eius, eam fortis.” Protect her, guide her, make her strong.

”Pro hoc offero sanguinem meum in sacrificium.” For this I offer my blood as a sacrifice.

Terzo came to stand in front of me again, holding the pot of grease paints in on hand and a brush in the other. Copia came over and took the pot from him and nodded solemnly at him as Terzo cupped my chin and tilted my head in the direction he needed.

“Trust me, Amore?” He asked, a devilish smile on his face and I couldn’t help but smile right back at him.

“Always.”

“Then close your eyes, eh?”

I held back my laughter, closing my eyes and attempting to keep very still as Terzo began to chant in Latin again. I felt the brush, with paints slightly cool, sliding across my skin as Terzo worked quickly and smoothly. His hands had memorized this after so many years, though he was only working with black for the purpose of this ritual.

After a few minutes, he pulled away and I peaked an eye open to see him holding out a mirror for me.

“What do you think, hm?” He whispered, suddenly looking shy. “Cardinale and I worked together to come up with the design.”

My cheekbones had been hollowed out with the paints, much like Terzo’s paints though my edges had been brought to my hair line. My eyes had been hollowed out, making my eyes shine brightly, between the black spots. My upper lip had been painted much like Copia and there was two small swipes made to the bridge of my nose as well. I looked up at Terzo, suddenly my throat was thick and full of emotion as he smiled brightly.

“Let these paints be a sign to all who see you, Sorella, that you are now and forever more a part of the Emeritus clan.”

“Hallowed be thy name.” was the response from the crowd behind me.

“Does the clergy sanction this ascension?” Terzo turned to ask Copia and I had to hold back a gasp at the intense look in Copia’s eyes as he kept his gaze locked on mine.

“We, the Clergy, are in full support of this decision.”

The sisters who’d helped me the last week, bathed and dressed me like I was their own, and finally had carried down my veil and headdress were now standing with Copia and Terzo. They both had their heads bowed in my direction as they handed the items to both of them in perfect sync. Copia took hold of the veil I’d be expected to wear for semi-formal and above events, with the exception of any events taking place around ‘worldly’ folks.

It was a long circular shape, though it did have quite a long train. It was made with black fine netting and all along the edge was more matching golden lace. The veil was a drop-veil style, cathedral length and settled far past the train for the dress. The Sisters helped bring the veil up behind me as it settled neatly against my dress and the floor. Copia slowly flicked and fluttered the gossamer fabric over my head, the front covered my face entirely and draped down to my elbows.

Copia placed his hand on top of my head, causing me to look down at his feet and my slightly trembling hands. He spoke softly under his breath, but I could still hear him.

“Lucifero, grazie per aver portato questa donna nelle nostre vite. Non so dove sarei senza di lei.” Lucifer, thank you for bringing this woman into our lives. I don't know where I would be without her. I could hear the heavy emotion in Copia’s voice, causing tears to threaten to ruin my makeup.

Before I could do anything to bring him comfort, the weight of Copia’s hand was gone and I looked up only to see him take a few steps back and allow Terzo to step in front of me. In his hands he held the symbol of my station. My halo style crown, it looked more like a piece of saintly artwork than a crown. Made of a large golden circle; it was made to look like I had a saint’s halo, like all the paintings and frescoes all over the monastery halls, and was covered in filagree and gemstones. I felt like my neck was going to get a cramp just from the short time I would have this on my head.

Terzo perched the heavy diedem on the crown of my head, the sisters with him working quickly to pin it to my head in four places to make sure I’d be able to move and not knock it loose. As he placed it, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I looked at him with a curious expression but he just smiled warmly and cupped my cheeks through the veil.

“You have done so, so well, Tesoro…” He whispered and I fought the giggle that wanted to spill from my lips.

“Thank you.” I smiled and I watched as he winked at me before begrudgingly pulling away.

Terzo took a few steps back and threw his arms wide.

“Rise, Prime Mover.” He called out, only the sound of the organ accompanying him. “Rise and gaze upon your flock.”

Both Terzo and Copia offered me a hand, graciously I took them as I stood up and turned to look at the large chapel behind us. I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I took in the sight around me. Everyone in the chapel, including the Emeritus family and the ghouls, was kneeling before me. A thrill at the idea of power, of the control I was given in this position, slithered up my spine. Deep down, I knew I would never ever abuse my powers I’d been given but the idea that all of these people would do as I said or even commanded made me momentarily drunk with power.

I turned back around to peek at my boys and I gasped quietly. Both were kneeling, their heads bowed, as they spoke the final prayers in latin. When they looked back up with me, practically synchronized in their movements, I was momentarily shocked at the heat and lust in their eyes.

Terzo was the first to stand, offering Copia a hand to join him. When they were both standing again Terzo stepped forward and took my hand, having me turn again to face the crowd.

“All hail Prime Mover Elizabeth Lucia Emeritus, the First of her name.”

I will never forget for as long as I live the sound of the thunderous applause and resounding ‘Long may she reign.’

#ghost #the band ghost #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #copia x reader #copia x reader x terzo #cardinal copia #papa emeritus lll #papa terzo #sinners in secret chapters #my writing

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effortandmore · 8 days

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caught looking: chapter 6 (knj x ksj)

summary: of course Seokjin has heard the rumors. most of them boil down to this: kim namjoon will get fired from the kiwoom heroes after this season is over. he’s the kbo’s youngest manager in history, one of korea’s darlings, always on every 30 under 30 list, and everyone is sure he’s about to tumble from the tower he’s built. or, namjoon is probably going to lose his job and seokjin is probably never going to make his dad proud, but they have a better shot at overcoming those two things together than they ever have alone.

pairing: seokjin x namjoon

rating: e for everyone for now but there is adult content in later chapters so no minors pls

genre: etl, fluff, eventual smut

au: baseball, specifically the kbo

warnings/tags: idk... swearing, drinking, and general sports things? some blackmail kind of and discussions of homophobia in sports. a drunk ex being drunk and pushy. eventual smut of the gay variety.

wc: chapter: ~3800

chapter summary: namjoon sulks, and seokjin can't figure out why. or, as i said in the gc: sorry, they're still stupid

hello i am back! (even tho i almost forgot to post today)... here are chapters one two three four and five if you'd like them. or the whole thing is on ao3 here . you probably know this by now, but i wrote this for @ugh-yoongi and am very grateful for her (and jess and mj's) support of this fic. thank you!

***

It’s an understatement to say that Seokjin had a long night.

Seungwook was hard to deal with sober, but nearly unbearable drunk. With some effort, he managed to get his ex up to his room, where he firmly turned down several advances and eventually communicated clearly enough that under no circumstances were they going to fuck.

Luckily, with sex off the table, Seungwook passed out on the room’s small couch pretty quickly. For being such a shitty person, he’d always been bordering on being respectful enough if Seokjin told him no. Small favors, maybe.

If Seokjin were a better person, he would have moved the man to a more comfortable position. But, he isn’t, so he didn’t, just laughed at the very large man twisted up on the tiny couch and took a picture to show Hoseok later when he had time to tell his roommate the story of his trip to Busan.

After that, Seokjin was hoping to find sleep, but he was still hungry and felt gross from manhandling his drunk ex around the hotel, so he called for room service, showered, and scrolled through twitter on his phone in his pajamas while he treated himself to all the small plates he and Namjoon had ordered and he’d missed out on trying.

He sent a text to Namjoon, apologizing for sticking him with the bill and promising to take him out back in Seoul to make up for it, thanking him for trying to stand up for Seokjin. It was sweet, really, and Seokjin hates that he left Namjoon down there like that, but he also knows it was the right thing to do, the best way to get Seungwook to calm down and avoid an unpleasant scene for all of them. Especially Namjoon.

By the time he plugs in his phone and turns off the lamp to go to sleep, it’s early in the morning. Seungwook hasn’t moved an inch since he passed out, and Seokjin prays he gets up early and sneaks out of the room quietly, that he remembers enough to be embarrassed by his behavior and to not want to talk to Seokjin about it.

It’s only a few hours later when his alarm goes off, pale light sinking through the curtains where he hadn’t pulled the blackout shades all the way closed the night before. Luckily, when he sits up and sees across the room, Seungwook is gone, and Seokjin says a quiet thank you to whoever might be listening that he didn’t have to deal with his ex again so early in the day.

His phone only has a few notifications, and it seems important that none of them are from Namjoon. He tries not to let the disappointment at that realization settle. There’s probably a good reason for it, anyway.

Then, he boards the bus to go to Sajik, and sees Namjoon, in his front seat as usual, but there’s equipment piled up next to him and he has headphones on. When Seokjin gets near and pauses by the seat, Namjoon just turns into the window and ignores him.

So much for not being disappointed.

Seokjin takes the last available seat on the bus next to Sangwon, and ignores the strange looks he gets across the aisle from Jimin and Taehyung.

It’s going to be a long day.

Things don’t get much better once they get to the field. Namjoon practically sprints off the bus and into the visiting manager’s office, shutting the door and all but declaring himself unavailable. Usually, this is when he and Seokjin meet before games to figure out a plan based on the starting pitcher for the opposing team. Instead, he’s literally shut out, so he sits with his laptop in the team dining area and types up his notes into an email for Namjoon.

Because he’s tired, and because things were going so well with Namjoon last night until they just crumbled, it’s sort of taking everything in him not to cry the kind of hot, frustrated tears that kids do when things aren’t going their way. Part of him thinks crying might be a little cathartic, but another part, the one with self-preservation instincts, just takes more soft serve from the machine in the corner and drowns his feelings in chocolate-vanilla swirl. In a mini helmet, of course.

Namjoon is clearly avoiding him, and Seokjin isn’t sure why. He thinks it was pretty obvious that someone needed to get Seungwook out of the bar, and also obvious that he was the only one able to do that without some sort of fight. He wishes Namjoon would just tell him what the problem was, but with only an hour left until the game and everyone out at batting practice except Seokjin, it seems unlikely.

Resigned, he takes his seat behind the dugout again and does his best to cheer along with the same enthusiasm he had the nights before. Halfway through the game, it’s starting to kick in, and all the faking it he’s doing is paying off, because he’s actually having a little bit of fun. The little girl next to him is enamored with the mascots and the cheerleaders, and he manages to get the MC to let her come up onto the dugout and dance with them for a half a song. Her parents are grateful and take a million pictures of her up there and then a couple more of her with Seokjin even though he’s nobody to them. It’s almost enough to make him forget that Namjoon is mad at him for some unknown reason.

It’s the bottom of the sixth, and Sangwon has pitched five surprisingly clean innings. The Heroes and the Eagles are tied, hope alive for the Heroes to take the series still. Seokjin is timing Sangwon from the stands, and he’s almost back to his normal speed from the wind-up. It’s helping his release point stabilize, which in turn is helping him keep the batters to pretty much just soft contact or swinging strikes.

A little bit of much-needed hope is blooming in Seokjin, and he can see it in the dugout, too. Even Namjoon, who’d been sulking around silently for the first hour and a half of the game, is smiling a little, again offering his normal encouragement to his players now as they enter and leave the dugout.

With two outs and no runners on, Sangwon is on the verge of ringing up Seungwook. He’s (it’s obvious to Seokjin anyway) hungover and off his game, swinging late and quickly racking up a one and two count. From his seat, Seokjin can’t see what pitch Taehyung asks for, but Sangwon shakes him off once, then again, then once more. Taehyung calls for time and jogs to the mound, clearly trying to get on the same page as his pitcher. They go back and forth for as long as the umpire lets them, and then Taehyung is headed back to the plate, pulling his mask down with a frown.

The fourth pitch comes, and all through the first half of his motion, Sangwon looks normal. And then he lifts his leg for the kick and instantly Seokjin knows something is wrong. Sangwon’s face contorts when his knee meets his glove, and as his leg comes back down, he all but topples over the mound. He ends up on the ground, clutching at his calf, and what should have been a sinker comes out at the wrong angle, a wild pitch that takes both Taehyung and Seungwook by surprise and hits Seungwook in the ankle.

There’s a split second where Seokjin wants to laugh, a little too pleased that Seungwook is hopping around on one foot and swearing, but then Sangwon just isn’t getting up. Jimin sprints out to the mound, along with Namjoon, their pitching coach, and the assistant trainer, and they huddle around the pitcher.

In the stands, fans from both sides murmur, the thrum of confusion and curiosity. The infield comes in, but keeps a respectful distance, trying to let the coaching staff assess the situation without getting in the way.

Moments go by that feel like hours. Sure, Sangwon is a dick, but no one likes to see a player seriously hurt and he’s not getting up. Eventually, the medical cart comes out of the concourse and onto the field, and Sangwon, looking distraught and more vulnerable than Seokjin’s ever seen him, is lifted onto the stretcher by Jimin and Namjoon, and carted off with both trainers at his side.

While Namjoon attends to the business of getting a new pitcher warmed up too fast, Seokjin escapes the stands and makes his way to the locker room. Jimin’s there, tossing belongings from Sangwon’s cubby into a duffel.

“What’s going on?” Seokjin asks as he enters.

Jimin grimaces. “It’s bad, hyung. More than a meniscus tear. Maybe his ACL. He said he heard it pop during his motion, which is a pretty solid sign. He needs an MRI. They’re taking him to the hospital now.”

“His season’s over,” Seokjin says more than asks.

As he slings the full duffel over his shoulder, Jimin nods. “If he’s really lucky, it’s just a strain. It would probably put him on the 45 day. But based on what you and I both noticed, I think it was probably already strained going into this and he tore it tonight. He threw up in the medicart because the pain was so bad.”

“I feel bad for him.”

“Don’t. Karma sucks,” Jimin answers with a smirk as he leaves, presumably to go along to the hospital.

Maybe he’s right. A little bit anyway.

Seokjin doesn’t bother watching the rest of the game, because Sangwon being out gives him the opportunity he’s been waiting for. He calls Yoongi and gets the green light he needs, and then he spends the rest of the game putting together a trade proposal for the management at Busan.

With any luck, he can get the deal done tonight and get Jeon Jeongguk on the bus back to Seoul in the morning.

***

If Namjoon hadn’t been so insistent on ignoring him, Seokjin would have already told him the news himself. Instead, after the Heroes lost the game, Namjoon got back to the hotel on his own, nowhere to be found on the team bus.

After everything is finalized with Busan, Seokjin pats himself on the back. Literally. In front of the bathroom mirror after his shower, and before he starts on his skincare routine. Yoongi had sent a simple “good work,” text and he’d checked Instagram to see the new pitcher’s profile updated with the burgundy and gray of the Heroes.

It’s all going to plan, until he hears a loud series of knocks on his door.

Well, at least he’s not being ignored anymore, he thinks.

“Are you still mad?” he says as he opens the door to find Namjoon with a fist raised, ready to give another solid knock.

“You went behind my back,” Namjoon complains as he enters the hotel room, kicks his shoes off, and paces around the doorway.

“I would have talked to you if you’d given me the chance!”

“Really?” Namjoon says, and it comes out snarky and sarcastic.

“Yes, really. What’s wrong with you? I thought we weren’t doing this anymore. I thought you trusted me.”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything right away, just takes a beer out of Seokjin’s minibar and plants himself in one of the chairs at the small table by the window. He cracks it open and takes a drink as Seokjin sits opposite him. Finally, Namjoon stops staring out at the ocean and turns to look at Seokjin.

“I do.”

It comes out softly, it sounds sincere as much as two words can, and it makes Seokjin’s heart skip a beat.

“Jeongguk is going to be good for the team, Namjoonie.”

“I know.”

“So, you admit I was right!” It feels good to tease Namjoon a little, to try and get his dimples to pop again. He doesn’t quite succeed, but he does see one side of Namjoon’s mouth turn up.

“You’re good at your job,” he says. “That’s not why I was mad.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin replies, “I figured, since you were already ignoring me this morning. Look, I’m sorry about Seungwook showing up, I had no idea he’d do that. I mean… I could barely get him to come to my hotel when we were together, so I didn’t even think—”

Namjoon cuts off his rambling. “That’s why it bothered me,” he says, eyes downturned and his brow wrinkled. “From everything you’ve said, he was such a dick to you. I don’t get why you’d leave with him. I thought we were having a good time.”

Seokjin is trying to process things, trying to make sure he’s hearing things right. Because what he’s hearing is that Namjoon is upset that he left with his ex. Which could be friend behavior, but it just feels like more. Last night was starting to feel like more.

Maybe Hoseok was right?

“We were,” he says simply. “But there were reporters in there, and I didn’t think you needed a fight.”

“Oh,” Namjoon whispers, lips stuck in a round shape as he blows out a breath. “So you weren’t… You know.”

“I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you mean. He passed out over there and I took a picture of him drooling to send to Hobi.” Seokjin flips to the photo on his phone and slides it over to Namjoon, who snorts out a laugh.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he admits, looking at Seokjin earnestly. “Thanks for trying to protect me.”

“Sure. I still think you’re worth it, Joonie.” The look on Namjoon’s face is too much. Like Seokjin is special, or saying something really incredible. It should be banned, honestly. No one should be allowed to look at Seokjin like that, or his heart might get confused.

After a beat, Namjoon scoots his chair out and stands, clearing his throat. “Well, he says, “I should probably get out of your way. It’s been a long day, and the bus leaves early.” But he doesn’t exactly move toward the door.

Because he has very little sense of self-preservation, Seokjin asks, “Want a redo?”

“A redo of what?”

“Dinner?”

Namjoon grins and points at Seokjin’s pajamas, covered in cartoon characters. Honestly, he’d forgotten he was wearing them, and now he wonders if the looks he thought were something more were just Namjoon wondering why Seokjin dresses like a middle schooler. “I don’t think you meet the dress code.”

Seokjin just shoulder checks him and then tosses him the room service menu from the table, gesturing for him to sit again. They order different things than the night before after they both confess to having separately eaten all the plates anyway.

When Seokjin gets off the phone placing their order, Namjoon is texting furiously. He doesn’t stop when Seokjin sits back at the little table, just types and makes little huffs that Seokjin knows are a sign of a frustrated Namjoon.

“What is it?” he finally asks.

Namjoon looks up over the rim of his glasses. “Sangwon. We just got all his results.”

“Surgery?”

“Yep. At least one. He won’t pitch again,” Namjoon says, shaking his head. “Doctor told Jimin if we’d addressed it sooner, it might have been different. I should probably…” He glances from Seokjin to the door of the hotel room and back. He actually looks disappointed. Whether it’s over losing his pitcher or losing out on dinner with Seokjin, it’s hard to tell. But probably the pitcher.

“You should go to the hospital.”

“Right.”

“It’s okay, I can eat a lot.”

That makes Namjoon smile wide—he throws his head back and laughs loudly. “That wasn’t exactly what I was worried about, but thank you, hyung.”

“Hang on before you go,” Seokjin says quickly, heading back over to his hotel room phone. He dials room service back and makes a quick adjustment to the order. It only takes a moment, but Namjoon is up and shuffling back into his shoes by the time he’s off the phone again.

Seokjin follows him to the door and says, “You can pick up your half downstairs on your way. They’re going to box it up for you.”

Namjoon pauses with his hand on the door handle and turns back. “Hyung, we’re friends, right?”

Friends. Yes. That’s what they are. Friends. And co-workers. Seokjin swallows and nods. Before he can react, Namjoon has both his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He smells good, sort of woodsy, and his t-shirt is soft on Seokjin’s cheek. When Namjoon pulls away, he leaves with a whispered, “Thank you,” and Seokjin’s left in a daze.

Friends.

It’s all he thinks about until he eventually falls asleep. He picks at his room service and thinks about being Namjoon’s friend. He replies to the picture he gets of Jimin and Namjoon looking bored in the hospital waiting room, and while he types, he thinks about what it must be like to be Namjoon’s more-than-friend. Listlessly, he flips through tv channels until he realizes he’s stuck on some silly drama where the people who are supposed to be friends were actually in love the whole time. And surprise, he thinks about Namjoon.

Namjoon is in his dreams, fidgeting with the little figurines that Seokjin has lined up along the front of his desk and laughing brighter than a star when Seokin tells him to knock it off. When Seokjin wakes up, he finds a message from Namjoon on his phone—an update on Sangwon, and he sees the real life Namjoon down in the hotel restaurant grabbing some fruit and talking quietly with Taehyung. Probably updating him on the new pitcher.

He wants to interrupt them, to say hello or good morning, but he can’t guarantee that he won’t accidentally say something like, “I think you’re gorgeous and very smart and can you please leave your boyfriend for me?” so he just gives them a small wave and makes his way out to the bus to load up his bags.

Seokjin is particularly excited to get out of Busan. He may not be able to avoid Namjoon, but it’ll be another kind of relief to put some distance between himself and Seungwook again.

And it’s nice to be first on the bus and have any seat of his choosing, but Seokjin’s brain has been betraying him and he’s tired and a little overwhelmed, so he doesn’t overthink things. He snags the seat Sangwon usually takes, and huddles in the corner, hood up, headphones on, and tries to make himself as ignorable as possible.

For a while, as players and coaching staff board the bus, it works. But then there’s a commotion, and Seokjin can’t help but look up to see what’s going on.

It’s Namjoon at the front of the bus, looking like Seokjin’s dream guy (literally) with his arm slung around their newest addition: Jeon Jeongguk.

The whole team is listening attentively. Taehyung, who’d already found the seat across from Seokjin, looks particularly interested—probably relieved he doesn’t have to put up with Sangwon anymore.

Seokjin pops his earbuds out in time to hear the end of whatever Namjoon is saying. “...So, everyone welcome Jeongguk to the team, and make sure you say thank you to Seokjin, who did all the work to get him to come to the Heroes.”

It’s not true, really. He just had the idea and got Yoongi to okay it. But he bows his head anyway and gives a one-handed little wave. He’s glad the hood of his sweatshirt is up to cover his ears, knowing he’s blushing at the attention.

Then, there’s some seat shuffling. Taehyung seems to think it’s urgent that he spends time with the new pitcher—it makes sense, so Jimin lets Jeongguk slide into his usual seat and then looks at Seokjin expectantly.

“Can I sit here, hyung?” And he gestures next to Seokjin.

“Uh… Sure. But there’s a seat next to Namjoon.”

Jimin scrunches his nose. “Ew, no. I told you, he snores.”

“Oh…” Seokjin is confused that they never seem to want to be together even though they are together, but it’s not really his business, either. He reaches for his bag and pulls out a couple of things before shoving it under the seat in front of him.

“Hey,” a deep voice says from above him.

Seokjin looks up and sees Namjoon in the aisle, standing behind Jimin.

“Hi hyung,” Jimin says sweetly. “Important business to discuss with Seokjin-hyung?”

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and won’t make eye contact with either of them. Why is everyone on this team so weird? Seokjin doesn’t think he has anything to talk about with Namjoon, especially since today’s an off-day. And since he, personally, is feeling off today, he wants even less to be forced to act normal around his crush for several hours.

“I just wanted a change of scenery,” Namjoon says.

“Sure,” Jimin says, and he looks positively giddy. “I’ll take the front seat for you. No problem.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” Namjoon says, sounding relieved, as he slides past the trainer and into the seat next to Seokjin.

No one seems to ask for Seokjin’s opinion on the matter, and he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of anything that isn’t, so he gives Namjoon a polite smile and tries not to think about the way it felt to be pressed up against him in his hotel room the night before.

“Hyung?” Namjoon says, touching Seokjin’s arm gently.

“Hmm?”

“Can we listen to that podcast again?” And with Namjoon looking at him, hopeful and a little nervous, who is he to say no?

“Sure, Namjoonie. Here.” He hands Namjoon an earbud and turns on the next episode of the podcast they’d listened to on the way up.

It starts, and they’re quiet, listening half to the podcast and half to the low chatter of the men around them. It feels sort of normal, and for the first time in a day, Seokjin feels calm. He almost forgets why he’d been so anxious, but then Namjoon starts snoring. Loudly.

Seokjin hears a giggle and turns to see Jeongguk covering his mouth, staring at them and clearly laughing.

“Is he always like that?” Jeongguk asks.

Taehuyng, next to him, nods. “Sometimes worse.”

The new pitcher just grins, toothy and bright. “You must really love him to put up with that.”

Namjoon’s head slides onto Seokjin’s shoulder as he makes a little snuffling sound in his sleep, and resigned, Seokjin thinks Jeongguk has no idea how right he is about that.

#seokjin fic #namjoon fic #seokjin imagines #bts imagines #bts fanfction #kvanity #seokjin x namjoon #fic: cl

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