#the one with bangs over his eyes is finch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leifygreeens · 7 months ago

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Hi moot! Hope you're doing well! <:)

Can i request about pilot harvey meeting the farmer (GN) ? (Those HCs about the bachelors archieving their dreams is living rent free in my head for a while )

Maybe harvey taking a break from aviation after an accident and spending some time in pelican town to rest ? 👀

It could be HCs or a little oneshot, whatever you're comfortable with!

(If Anything just sorry in advance)

Hey moot! This one was a monster, and it took me fucking ages(sorry abt that), but I hope you like it all the same!!

Bachelor/ettes Achieving Their Dreams is here.

Warnings: 3296 words, mentions of scarring, burns, fire, some swearing, and Pierre's relationship with Abigail is pretty... not nice. GN!Farmer, Pilot!Harvey. Half edited, so excuse any awkward phrasing or typos. Enjoy!

When the creatures of the valley are sleeping, and the streetlights lining the town square still glow faintly, Harvey wakes up and starts his day.

Like clockwork, he rolls out of bed to wash the sleep out of his eyes and shock his body awake with a shower. It’s a routine he picked up in the early years of his career, when he was lowest in seniority and always stuck with the longest and earliest flights. Sixteen years later and he still does it, even though there’s no reason to wake up early anymore.

Hopping out of the shower at half past five, he wrings the water out of his curls with a towel, and plucks his glasses from where he left them folded neatly on a washcloth. He wipes vapor off of the lenses with it, holds them up to the light to make sure they’re dry, and then settles them on his nose.

The world turns clear, and a flash of pearly white at the front of his bangs catches his attention. Harvey frowns.

He’s lucky his hairline isn’t receding just yet, but he scowls at how his age is starting to show in the streaks of white, in sharp contrast against the rest of his chocolate brown hair. He flicks a dangling curl away from his brow, and leans in close to the mirror, eyeing his jawline in disappointment. He runs a palm over the curve of his cheek, and sighs.

He needs to shave again.

Well, need is a strong word, because he doesn’t—not anymore, anyway. But old habits die hard.

That takes at least ten minutes, and he’s been shaving every other day for half of his life, but he’s still nursing a nick under his jaw as he walks into the kitchenette. The apartment is cool compared to the sauna he’s made of the bathroom, and his skin blooms with goosebumps when he opens the fridge.

He drags out the almost empty carton of eggs from the back of the top shelf, and pulls a pack of bread from the other side. There are two slices left, not counting the ends. He sighs, and knows he’ll have to pick up groceries from Pierre’s in a few hours when the shop opens. Harvey digs the last of his coffee grounds out of the cabinet above the stove. He’ll need to pick up another bag of those as well, and his head twinges at the thought. His grocery list is getting longer the more he thinks about it.

He shakes the thoughts away. Coffee and food first, before everything else.

He fries up the last of the eggs, toasts and lightly butters the bread, and sits at his tiny dining table with a full mug. The window beside him is closed and the curtains are pulled, but the cloth is sheer enough that he can look outside and see the world slowly start to wake up. There are chittering finches in the tree branches, a brown rabbit hopping through the underbrush of Jodi’s backyard, and if he straightens up enough, he can see pure white gulls gliding over the deep stretch of blue beyond Pelican Town’s beaches.

He eats slowly, gazing out the window as the sun finally rises above the mountains and bathes the valley in soft yellow light.

Harvey smiles and pulls the curtains back. It’s still too cold to slide the window open—the valley is just three weeks out of winter, and you’d have to be a madman to subject yourself to the early morning chill—but the warmth of the sun should reach him through the glass just fine. He picks up his mug and takes a swig, settling in for his breakfast overlooking Pelican Town.

The peace is short-lived, however. By half past 8, his dishes are empty and clean in the rack adjacent to the sink, and his computer is on the table, open to a 3-day-old email from Steph, his coworker. He scrolls up to the beginning of the message and skims over it again.

Hey Harv, just checking in again. How are you doing these days? How are your arms? Has your back healed? I’m sure you’re following doctor’s orders, but I wanted to check in to be sure. By the way, I talked to Ricky yesterday, and he says he’s doing good, but he hasn’t heard from you in months. I don’t mean to pry, and you know I don’t mind the radio silence, but he’s your best friend, Harv... Reach out to him, will you? He misses you. We all do. Even the trainees have been asking about you (I think they just miss getting drinks on your dime though). Take care of yourself, maybe go outside for a bit, you old fart. I’ve heard the weather in the south is lovely this time of year. Send me some pictures, okay? Talk soon.

Harvey sighs and runs an exasperated hand over his face.

How is he doing?

His back still aches occasionally, but Caroline’s aerobics class helps with the worst of the pain, and the burns on his arms healed a long time ago. The scars are a nasty reminder, sure, but his skin doesn’t feel tender to the touch anymore.

Point is, he could schedule a physical tomorrow, and his doctor would clear him for flight by the end of next week—but that’s kind of the problem.

Harvey looks at his coat closet. In the farthest corner, hidden under his uniforms, his model kits collect dust. He threw everything in there when he first arrived in the valley, and he’s pretty sure he’d have to lean all of his weight back just to get the door open. He goes tense when he hears an engine in the sky, but he doesn’t look up anymore.

Harvey pauses.

When did he stop?

He glances at the time, and closes his computer with a sigh. His chair makes an awful screech against the tile as he stands, and he beelines for his dresser, yanking the top drawer open to grab the first barely presentable thing he sees. An old university t-shirt; one of the few with no holes.

He tosses it on his bed, swipes the top pair of jeans out of his hamper, and unravels his robe.

Harvey gets dressed quickly and only spares himself a quick glance in the mirror to check that everything is sitting fine. It’s certainly not the picture of professionalism expected by his employers, but they’re not here, so as long as he doesn’t look like he’s just rolled out of bed, that’s good enough.

Harvey slips on his most comfortable pair of shoes, shoves his wallet and keys in his pocket, and steps outside.

The sun assaults his pupils as he makes his way down the stairs, and he squints against the glare until his eyes adjust. It’s nicer out now, and he breathes in the sweet smell of tulips—Evelyn’s flowers of choice this year for the planters lining the square. The dogwood trees are also blooming, leaving the cobblestone littered with white and pink petals. Harvey closes his eyes and inhales slowly, feeling peaceful.

“Shit!—”

Harvey jumps, his eyes flying open in surprise at the sound of wood thunking against glass, heavy like a gong. A few birds leap from their perches in the trees, and a squirrel dives under a bush. He turns to Pierre’s, searching for the source of the sound, and finds a stranger with a giant crate in their arms, fighting to balance it as they reach for the doors.

Harvey realizes that it is not one, but two crates.

Stacked on top of each other.

One of them is starting to tip over.

“Woah, woah!” They yelp, and Harvey moves without thinking.

The grit of the wood presses against his palms as he heaves the top crate out of their arms, and he looks at the stranger with a smile.

“Uh, hello,” Harvey says. They blink, perfectly silent, and he grimaces. “Sorry, you looked like you were going to lose it.”

It’s not as smooth as he’d like, but it does snap them out of whatever trance they were in.

“Oh, no! Thank you for saving it, it would’ve been bad if I lost that one. It’s, uh.” They smile, and there’s an anxious edge to their voice. “That one’s full of eggs.”

Harvey blinks down at the crate, and then the pavement. “I can’t imagine the mess that would’ve made.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Pierre would ever buy from me again.” They wince. “He probably wouldn’t let me near his shop at all, actually.”

“That man does know how to hold a grudge.” Harvey glances at the doors, the glass glinting and reflecting the bright morning sun directly in his eyes. He blinks hard, willing the after images away. “I’m just here to pick up some groceries, but would you like some help bringing these in?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to, but I’d be very grateful if you did, stranger.” They smile. Something warm settles in his gut at the invitation.

“My name is Harvey,” He says sheepishly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harvey. I’m the new farmer.” Harvey doesn’t bother mentioning he never met the old one. They nod at the dirt path leading to the bus stop, and he glances over his shoulder. “I moved into the farmhouse down the road a few weeks ago.”

His eyebrows wrinkle a bit. “You moved in a few weeks ago and I’ve only just met you?”

“I’ve been pretty busy. The farm wasn’t in the best shape, so I’ve been clearing the land, and trying to raise enough money to restore the farmhouse.” The Farmer lifts the crate in their arms a bit. “Hence the crates.”

Harvey looks down at the crate in his arms. “How many chickens do you even have? There’s like fifty eggs in here.”

“I started off with two, but I’ve got eight now. They make a lot.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Harvey readjusts the crate, a burn building in his arms. He’s surprised it took so long, though. Maybe the aerobics class is doing more for him than just fixing the back pain.

Harvey nearly topples backward as the front doors swing open, but rights himself at the last moment. The crate of eggs remains safe in his arms, even though the glare that Abigail fixes him with makes his knees weak, and the sword strapped to her hip doesn’t help, either.

“Harvey,” she grits out, and he thinks it might be a greeting?

He doesn’t have the opportunity to reply, though, because she levels the farmer with an even nastier scowl, and storms off toward Marnie’s. Pierre appears just then, keys in hand and a matching scowl on his face. Harvey doesn’t have to wonder where Abigail got it from.

“Fucking brat,” Pierre spits, jamming the keys into the front doors to unlock them as Harvey and the Farmer share an awkward look.

“Uh, rough morning, Pierre?” The Farmer asks.

“That would be the understatement of the fucking century, Farmer.” Pierre waves them in, and Harvey follows dutifully. The general store is always warmer than it is outside, and in the winter that’s a boon, but right now Harvey can already feel sweat clinging to the nape of his neck. He rolls his shoulders back, and that helps only marginally. “What have you got for me today?”

“One crate of eggs, one of produce.”

“Good. Set them both on the counter. I’ll get my scale and ring you up.”

“Yes sir,” The farmer heaves their crate onto the counter beside Pierre’s register, and Harvey sets the eggs beside it as gently as he can. When he looks up, the door to Pierre’s home is swinging shut.

“Wow. This spat must’ve been really bad if Pierre is cursing,” The Farmer muses, crossing their arms and leaning against the counter.

“I've never seen him this angry.” Harvey heaves a breath. “I wonder what happened this time.”

“I'm not close with either of them, so I couldn’t guess.” The Farmer shrugs.

“I didn’t think you were,” Harvey whistles. “Certainly not Abigail, with the way she looked at you. What did you even do?”

The Farmer sighs. “Lewis thinks it’s because she wanted to buy the deed to the old farm, and is pissed that I got it through birth.”

“And what do you think?” Harvey asks.

They shrug again. “I’m not about to hunt her down to find out.”

“She’d probably cut you down if you did,” Harvey says grimly, shuddering at the memory of the sword gleaming on her hip. The Farmer chuckles.

“She could certainly try.” The Farmer rolls their eyes, a smug smile playing on their lips, and Harvey suddenly gets the sense that he is very, very out of his depth. They look at him curiously after the silence stretches for a few moments longer than necessary, and Harvey swallows hard.

“Groceries.” He says intelligently, and the Farmer’s eyes slowly crinkle at the edges.

“That is what you originally came here for.”

“I should go do that.”

“You should.” The Farmer nods, their smile unmoving, and Harvey stiffly makes his way to the end of the first aisle.

He can feel the Farmer’s eyes on him the whole way, his eyes skimming the shelf as he tries very hard to ignore the prickling heat climbing up his neck. He slips out of sight, rubs the back of his neck as the feeling disappears, and starts looking for his coffee.

The door in the far corner of the shop swings open again, and Pierre waltzes back into the store with an easy smile on his face. Harvey really should be used to the mood swings by now, but when Pierre’s entire personality changes with the breeze, the whiplash is enough to leave everything spinning.

“Sorry for the wait, Farmer. My scale wasn’t where I left it.”

“Oh, no worries, Pierre. I’m in no rush.”

“No offense, but I don’t believe you,” Pierre jokes. “You’re always in a rush.”

“Not today, thankfully. I’m spending the rest of the day at the beach.”

Harvey hears Pierre clunk his scale on the counter. “The beach? It’s still a bit too cold to take a dip, isn’t it?”

“Oh no, I’m not going swimming, I’m fishing.”

Harvey’s never been the type to eavesdrop, but the store is small and they’re not even ten feet away, so he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter, does he?

He frowns. It’s a poor excuse and he knows it.

He refocuses on the bags in front of him, and sighs. Pierre has a small selection of coffee, and it’s expensive, but it’s better than Joja. Harvey shudders. He would rather pour hot wax on his own tongue than buy coffee from Joja.

Harvey grabs two bags of beans, stands up, and plucks one loaf of plain white bread from the top shelf. He glances down at everything in his arms. He probably should’ve grabbed a basket.

“Alright, that's the last of it!”

“Thank you, Pierre, I appreciate it.” Harvey perks up.

“Oh no, it’s no trouble at all. Your farm is already doing a lot of good for the local economy, even with that cursed Joja Mart across the river.” Harvey nearly snorts. No one in town is as vocal about their hatred for the big blue building as Pierre.

“Give it time, Pierre. It’ll close down eventually.”

“In a perfect world, it never would’ve opened in the first place.”

“Have a good day, Pierre,” The Farmer calls over their shoulder, and Harvey tenses when he realizes the sound of their steps is getting closer. Harvey looks up, and the Farmer is smiling at him, half concealed by the rack as they peer around the corner. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi again.” Harvey manages a tiny wave past everything in his arms, and the Farmer’s smile widens.

“Just wanted to thank you again for the help,” The Farmer says warmly. Harvey opens his mouth to reply, wanting to say something about it being no trouble, but they’re already dipping out of sight. Regret sours in his throat.

But then they’re reappearing a moment later, still leaning past the corner of the aisle like they’re in some goofy movie poster, with a basket hanging from their hand. “Need a basket?”

Harvey wonders if the twitch of his lips is visible under the fluff of his mustache, and walks up to them. “I do, thank you.”

“I think this is the least I can do, considering.” The Farmer holds it out to him, keeping the handles out of his way as he dumps the bags of coffee and bread into the basket. “I would’ve lost a lot of income if you hadn’t lent me a hand when you did, so thank you.”

“It wasn’t any trouble.”

“Maybe not, but I appreciate you all the same. It’s nice being out here, surrounded by people who actually give a damn about each other.” Harvey stares at them in surprise. “Even the nicest people in Zuzu wouldn’t have given me a second glance.”

“You’re from the city?”

They nod. “Not by birth, but yeah. I was living in Zuzu for a few years until now.”

Harvey takes in their sunkissed skin, and the sturdiness of their arms. They look like they’ve been in the fields for years. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” They hold his basket out again, and Harvey takes it.

“Thank you, Farmer.”

They smile, and the flecks of dirt on their face catch his eyes like diamonds. “You’re welcome. Have a good day, Harvey. It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Harvey mumbles as they finally leave, the bell above the doors cheerily punctuating their departure.

It takes him a long time to shake himself out of it, but he manages eventually. Harvey plucks a few extra things off the shelves, and when his basket is appropriately heavy, he makes his way to the counter where Pierre is busy separating eggs into cartons.

“Morning, Harvey,” Pierre greets him familiarly, and Harvey nods his head.

“Morning, Pierre.” Harvey clunks his basket on the counter. “Can I get two cartons of eggs too, please?”

Pierre checks him out quickly, and Harvey is out of there two minutes later with his arms full and his wallet a little lighter.

He climbs up the steps to his apartment, and pauses at his door. He looks up toward the bus stop; squints hard to see past it. The trees block most of his view, but he can still make out the hint of open farmland between the branches. Harvey blinks and turns to his door, his keys jingling obnoxiously between his fingertips as he unlocks it and steps inside. He’s being weird.

He sets his bags on the kitchen counter and starts unloading his groceries.

Later, just past noon, Harvey is sitting in front of his computer, once again failing to type up a worthwhile reply to Steph. He gets a sentence down, maybe two, and then he’s grumbling to himself and deleting everything again. And again. And again.

And again.

Harvey thunks his head against the tabletop in defeat, and groans loudly.

“This isn’t working,” Harvey mumbles, as if the world needed any confirmation.

He sits up, his forehead aching faintly, and looks out the window. Beyond the square, beyond the thick line of trees, he can see the ocean glittering under the sun, deep blue and endless.

All it takes is a tug in his chest, and Harvey gets up, puts his shoes on, and walks out the door.

#stardew valley #sdv #harvey #sdv harvey #pilot!Harvey #sdv farmer #gn farmer #asks #requests #moots <3

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goforth-ladymidnight · 2 months ago

Text

A Second Chance, Ch. 14

@praetorqueenreyna @thrumbolt @achaotichuman @taymartiart @northern-polaris @zivotzaruzi (Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged.)

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Wordcount: 7.9k

Summary: Tamlin breaks some hearts (and no, I will not spoil it by saying whose), and Lucien and his brother learn more about their family's company audit

Read on AO3, or read here below the cut:

Click.

Tamlin lowered the camera with a sniff and tried to wiggle his numb nose. He’d been out in the cold for nearly an hour now, and he hadn’t seen anyone matching Vassa’s description, aside from the round, red-capped finches he was pretending to be so fascinated by.

He glanced over at the busy coffee cart on the other side of the park, with its jolly holly-green umbrella and bright red coffee cups. He sighed wistfully, and his breath was visible in the chilled air. Some hot coffee would be just the thing on a cold day like this. The sky promised more snow later, as if they didn’t already have enough.

As he trudged through the ankle-deep snow, he readjusted the strap of the camera bag bouncing uncomfortably against his frozen hip, and grumbled at himself for coming up with such a brilliant plan.

At least he had Lucien’s scarf to keep him from becoming a walking, talking snowman.

As he fell in line behind two young women, he lifted the scarf to his nose and gratefully breathed in the faint, orange-scented cologne. Now that his mouth and nose were beginning to thaw, he could start thinking clearly again.

He was doing this for Vassa, he reminded himself. Vassa was Lucien’s friend, and Jurian’s girlfriend, besides. No matter how much Jurian might try to deny it.

If the Scythian mafia was after her, no matter what their reasons were, it was reason enough to keep her out of their clutches. But was it worth the risk if it meant putting another redhead in harm’s way?

“Hi! Two peppermint lattes, please,” the young woman in front of him cheerily told the coffee cart attendant.

Tamlin glanced over the black chalkboard menu, at the options written in a curly white script. He usually got a black coffee, but would it be gay if he tried a peppermint latte for once?

He shook his head and scolded himself. So what if it was? Hadn’t he just had—as Lucien put it—hot gay sex, the night before?

Even the memory of it made him blush.

“What can I get you?” the attendant asked him.

Tamlin startled, then stepped forward. “Oh, yeah. Hi. Um… Two black coffees, please,” he said automatically, and was suddenly disappointed in himself. Why would anyone care about his order, anyway? He was the one drinking it, not them. When the attendant reached for two red coffee cups, Tamlin stopped him. “Actually, could you make them peppermint lattes, instead?” he asked shyly.

“Ooh, nice choice,” someone remarked.

He turned his head to see the same two young women standing nearby, sipping at their own peppermint drinks. They were dressed in blue and green puffy jackets and white leggings, complete with woolen legwarmers and stocking hats with fuzzy pom-poms on top. They made standing out in the cold look a lot more fun than it actually was.

“We don’t really see guys go for the so-called girly drinks,” her friend continued, and shrugged shyly. “It’s cute.”

“Well, you two inspired me,” he said, smiling. “It never hurts to try something new, right?”

“Right,” she said, while her friend nudged her. They both looked like they were trying very hard not to giggle. Had he said something funny?

“You’ll have to tell us what you think,” her friend said brightly, then gestured to the other and continued, “Cat usually goes for pumpkin spice, but it is almost Christmas, so…”

“‘Tis the season,” Tamlin agreed conversationally, as if they weren’t complete strangers. Still, it didn’t hurt to be friendly.

“Indeed,” she said with a smile.

As he returned her smile, he noticed that she had bright, teal blue eyes, and coppery red bangs peeking out beneath her stocking hat. If it weren’t for her freckles and pale skin, she could almost pass for Vassa…

“That’ll be ten,” the clerk said, bringing him back to the present.

“Oh, that much, huh?” Tamlin said with a shy laugh, and pulled out his wallet.

As he pulled out the correct number of bills, the redhead remarked, “They have some of the best coffee in town. It’s worth it, I promise.”

“I’m sure it is,” he said affably, then took the steaming cups in hand with a nod of thanks.

As he stepped aside to make way for the next customer, he tried to think of a tactful way to ask for her picture, but the talkative redhead didn’t give him the chance.

“So, what do you think?” she asked him.

“About what?”

She and her friend exchanged another one of their barely contained smiles. “Of the coffee?”

“Oh,” he said, and carefully managed a sip. As the warm brew slid down his throat, he licked his lips. “It’s uh… peppermint-y,” he remarked, unsure of how else to describe it. “But it’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” her companion—Cat—said, and took a sip herself.

The redhead glanced between them, looking thoughtful. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Cat—with dark hair and equally bright blue eyes—nearly spat out her coffee. “Gwyn!” she chided, and smacked her arm.

The redhead—Gwyn—gave her an innocent shrug. “What? You were taking forever to ask him out, so…” She nodded at Tamlin, as if to say: I did you a favor; you can thank me later.

Tamlin’s lips twitched into a shy smile, and he found himself blushing. “Look, it’s not that I’m flattered, but…”

“You see?” Cat said quickly. “He has a girlfriend. I knew it. Can we go now, please?” Her cheeks were as pink as Tamlin’s felt, and not just from the cold.

“The thing is, I don’t have a girlfriend,” he tried to explain.

“Oh, you don’t?” Cat said, sounding somewhat hopeful.

Tamlin winced and sucked in a cold, sharp breath between his teeth. “I actually have a boyfriend. Sorry.”

Both girls groaned and exchanged sad, disappointed smiles.

“How come all the cute ones are gay?” Cat complained with a pouting lip, which only made Tamlin blush harder.

“Az isn’t gay,” Gwyn told her, sounding somewhat annoyed.

“Yeah, but he’s taken. By you.”

Gwyn turned to Tamlin with wide, hopeful eyes. “Do you have any brothers?”

Tamlin chuckled as Cat squawked in protest, and brushed a stray hair from his warm cheek with his wrist. “They’re married,” he said ruefully, but even if they weren’t, he wouldn’t wish them on anyone, straight or otherwise.

“Figures,” Cat muttered, then gave Tamlin a polite smile. “Thanks, anyway.”

“Anytime,” he said automatically, which made no sense, given the circumstances.

“Tam? Hey, Tam!” a familiar voice called out, and he turned in shock to see Lucien, of all people, trotting up to greet him.

“Lu?” Tamlin said with a surprised laugh. “What are you doing here?”

Lucien grinned, and his cheeks were flushed from jogging in the cold. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, “I was just across the street and thought I’d get some coffee, and… well, here you are, getting coffee!”

“Yeah… Wow…” Tamlin shook his head in amazement, then noticed the two girls watching them. “Oh, yeah. Lu. Let me introduce you to… um…” His mind went blank.

“I’m Gwyn, and this is my sister, Cat,” Gwyn offered kindly, and Cat silently saluted them with her coffee cup.

“Nice to meet you,” Lucien said, and introduced himself.

“Hi,” Cat said politely, but it was clear she had no interest in chatting. Tamlin didn’t blame her.

Gwyn wasn’t quite ready to leave, though, since she turned to Tamlin and said, “I don’t think I caught your name, actually.”

“Oh, it’s Tam. Tamlin.”

“Tamlin,” she repeated with a smile. “That’s a nice name. I think I heard it in a song once.”

Before Tamlin could say that’s where his mom had gotten it from, Lucien interrupted and gestured to the three of them.

“I’m confused… how exactly do you all know each other?”

“We just met, actually,” Tamlin said, shrugging shyly with the coffee cups. It wasn’t much of an explanation, but what else could he say that wouldn’t embarrass anyone?

Luckily Gwyn was there to fill what could have been an awkward silence. “We got the same coffee order,” she said simply, then turned the question around on him. “What about you? How long have you two known each other?”

“Oh, Tam and I go way back,” Lucien said, giving him a small, secret wink.

That wink made Tamlin feel brave. “Actually, we just started dating,” he told the girls, smiling shyly. “And, actually, he’s my boyfriend.”

Lucien’s eyebrows rose at this public admission, but before he could say anything, Cat nudged Gwyn with her elbow.

“I told you,” she muttered. “Cute. Gay.”

Lucien chuckled at this. “Uh, thanks. I think.”

Gwyn suddenly pointed at him. “You said your name was Lucien, right?” When he affirmed that he had, and that he was, she grinned and said, “You’re Eris’s brother, aren’t you.”

Lucien’s head jerked back in surprise. “Yeah! How’d you know?”

“He comes by the theater all the time,” Gwyn said brightly. As an aside to Cat, she explained, “He’s the one dating Nesta.”

“Oh.” Cat rolled her eyes. “Yeah. See? That just proves my point. If he’s cute, he’s either gay, or taken.”

Tamlin and Lucien let out awkward chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s usually the opposite for me,” Lucien said quietly, then turned his attention to Gwyn. “So, uh, how did you know Eris was dating Nesta?”

“We’re part of the same dance company,” Gwyn said brightly. “The Valkyries?”

“Oh,” Lucien said with an impressed nod. “Sure, I’ve heard of them.”

Tamlin hadn’t, so he let them talk and took another sip of his peppermint latte. Even though he wasn’t sure he would ever order it again, he was glad he’d tried it. Best of all, he didn’t feel any more or less gay for having done so. It was just a drink, after all.

“We’re performing Swan Lake this season,” Gwyn went on. “You two should come by and see us. It’s not as popular as The Nutcracker this time of year, but…”

“Sounds great,” Lucien said quickly, before Tamlin could say anything about the show they’d missed.

“Great!” Gwyn agreed. “Well, if you ever want to swing by, just tell the Ticket Office that Gwyn—and Cat—Berdara sent you,” she said, gesturing to her sister. “—and they’ll give you the Friends and Family discount.”

“Oh my god, please kill me now,” Cat muttered, covering her face with her free hand.

Lucien ignored her, or at least he pretended to. “Berdara,” he repeated, and Gwyn nodded, beaming. “I’ll remember that. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Cat tugged on Gwyn’s elbow before she could say more. “Come along, now, Gwyneth,” she said brightly, though her next sentence was said through gritted teeth. “Before I murder you.”

“What did I do?” Gwyn whined as her sister led her away, and Tamlin and Lucien chuckled.

“Well, that was an interesting conversation,” Lucien remarked, giving Tamlin an amused smile. “Let me guess, one of them tried to ask you out?”

Tamlin blushed. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” Lucien brushed a stray hair from his face. “But honestly, I’m not surprised. What woman wouldn’t want to take a bite out of a studmuffin like you?” He winked.

Tamlin blushed harder and breathed a laugh, then his smile faded. You must be beating off the girls with a stick, the dean once told him. He sighed, and it clouded the air. Would the nightmare of Amarantha ever stop haunting him?

“Hey,” Lucien said, tilting his head to catch his eye. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Tamlin said, shaking off the wisps of memory like fallen snow on his hair. “Just tired. I didn’t get that much sleep last night, as you well know.”

A slow smile grew on Lucien’s face, and his warm brown eyes sparkled. “I’d apologize, but I’m not that sorry,” he teased, then nodded at the cups in Tamlin’s hands. “Besides, that’s what coffee’s for.”

“Oh, right.” He’d almost forgotten about his order.

As Tamlin took a sip, Lucien asked, “So, what did you get?”

Tamlin swallowed. “Peppermint lattes,” he said with a shy smile, then held out the other cup. “You want one?”

“Oh… Sure,” Lucien said, accepting it with some surprise. “Who was it for?”

“Jurian, but I’m not sure he’d like it. He takes his coffee blacker than black, so…”

“So does Alex,” Lucien agreed, then lifted the bright red cup for a sip. “Mmm. It’s good. I prefer pumpkin spice myself, but… It’s good.” He licked the foam from his lips and smiled. “Thanks.”

The sight warmed Tamlin more than the coffee had, and he smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

Lucien gestured to the coffee line. “Do you mind keeping me company while I get something for Alex? Or do you need to get back to work?”

“Oh, no. It’s fine,” Tamlin said, waving dismissively with his now free hand. “Work can wait.”

“What kind of errand were you running anyway?” Lucien asked as they joined the back of the line. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Errand?”

“Yeah. Jurian said you were running an errand for him, so…”

“Oh.” Tamlin blinked, and thought quickly. “Uh… Coffee run,” he lied, smiling nervously all the while.

“Huh, okay,” Lucien said with an understanding smile, then slipped his gloved hand in Tamlin’s. “Is this okay?”

Tamlin glanced down at their joined hands, then gently squeezed. “It’s more than okay.”

Lucien smiled, and squeezed back. “Okay. Good.”

As the line moved forward, Tamlin thought back on his conversation with Jurian. He still felt like he was Bi instead of Gay, but it didn’t really matter anymore. Even though those two girls were clearly interested, he hadn’t tried to pretend he had a girlfriend instead. It hadn't occurred to him to try. Lucien was his boyfriend, and that’s all there was to it. So what if he had missed out on his chance to take Gwyn’s picture? He and Jurian would have to come up with something else to distract Koschei, which made him wonder…

“When did you see Jurian, anyway?” Tamlin asked.

“Oh, about ten minutes ago,” Lucien said, lifting his cup for another sip. “Alex is talking with him now. I wanted to give them some privacy.”

“Because of his wife?”

Lucien winced. “Yeah.”

Tamlin sighed. “Was I wrong to suggest that? For him to see Jurian, I mean.”

“Of course not,” Lucien assured him. “It’s better that he finds out sooner rather than later, especially before they start having kids.”

“Yikes.”

“You’re telling me.”

They moved forward another place in line.

“So, what’s with the camera bag?” Lucien asked, nudging him gently.

“Birdwatching,” Tamlin said automatically.

Lucien gave him a bemused smile. “Birdwatching,” he repeated. “I didn’t know you were into that… Did you see any good ones?”

“Not really,” Tamlin said dismissively. “It’s mostly just sparrows, and finches this time of year…” He gestured with his cup. “Hence, the coffee.”

“Huh,” Lucien said, then he shrugged. “Maybe you can take me birdwatching in the spring,” he offered. “Then you can show me all the good ones.”

“If you like,” Tamlin remarked, surprised. “It’s really not that interesting.”

Lucien’s head jerked back. “Then why do it?”

Realizing he had been caught in a lie, Tamlin’s face flushed. “I do it for Jurian’s sake,” he said quickly. “He’s the one with the checklist, and I’m the one with the camera, so…”

“Oh.” Lucien nodded thoughtfully, then he smiled. “We’ll find something to do that we both like, then.”

“Sure,” Tamlin agreed, relieved.

After Lucien had ordered two black coffees—for Alex and Jurian, he said—they turned back for the office. With their hands full, they couldn’t hold onto each other anymore, but they did match each other’s leisurely stride as they strolled through the park.

“I’m really glad I got to see you,” Lucien said, smiling warmly. “You were in such a hurry this morning, I didn’t get the chance to give you a proper goodbye.”

Tamlin couldn’t help his blush. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It worked out better this way. Alex and Jurian get their time to talk, and now so do we.”

“Yeah,” Tamlin murmured, then took a deep breath. “So, where are you going after this? Back to work?”

“Nah,” Lucien said dismissively. “I’m taking the day off. Alex and I are going to lunch, though. I’m taking him to Annie’s, actually. You want to come along?”

“Oh.” Tamlin blinked in surprise. “I, uh, sure. I have to clear it with Jurian first, but…”

“There you are,” an annoyed voice said.

Tamlin and Lucien looked up to see Alex standing with Jurian in the parking lot.

Alex pushed himself away from the expensive-looking car he’d been leaning against. “I thought you got abducted, or something,” he told Lucien chidingly.

Lucien only rolled his eyes. “Will you relax,” he drawled, then held out the extra coffee cup. “I got you a black, two sugars.”

“Oh… Thanks,” Alex muttered, and begrudgingly accepted the peace offering.

Tamlin broke the awkward silence by offering Jurian the extra coffee he’d been carrying. “Dark roast,” he said. “No sugar.”

“Thanks, Tam,” Jurian said, accepting it gratefully. He’d been standing with Alex in his shirt sleeves; he probably hadn’t anticipated having to wait outside this long.

Not wanting to make the situation more awkward by apologizing, Tamlin took another sip. As did they all.

“So,” Jurian announced loudly, when they’d all drunk. “Tam. We have a new client. Who I’m sure you’ve already met.”

“Yeah,” Tam said, nodding at Alex. “Hi, again.”

“Hey,” Alex murmured, then sighed. “Look. I’m sorry…”

Tamlin waved him off. “No, it’s, uh… It’s okay… I didn’t realize you were out here waiting, so…”

“That was my fault, anyway,” Lucien interjected. “I ran into Tam across the street, and we got to talking…”

“Yeah,” Alex said quietly, then sighed again. “Well, Lucien and I should probably get going, so…” He stuck out his hand to Jurian, who shook it. “Thanks, again.”

“Sure,” Jurian said kindly. “I’ll be in touch.”

Alex nodded, then stuffed his hand into his pocket. “Keys.”

“Oh, right,” Lucien said quickly, and shoved his hand inside his own coat pocket.

While he dug, Alex turned his attention to Tamlin next. “In case I don’t see you for a while, good luck… with everything. I hope you get the help you need.”

Tamlin’s head jerked back in surprise. “Help?” he repeated. “Why would I need help?”

“Ah-ha-ha,” Lucien said quickly, and shoved the found keys at his brother. “Here you go,” he said in a sing-song voice that sounded a lot like Shut up now.

Alex fumbled with the keys and his coffee. “Hey—What? What are you doing?”

“Lunch. Car. Now,” Lucien said quickly, trying to herd him toward the driver’s side door.

Alex stepped back and looked at him askance, however. “You didn’t tell him, did you.”

“Tell me what?” Tamlin asked, looking between them.

Even though Lucien tried to shush him, Alex said, “About Eris? Taking on your case?”

Tamlin’s bemused smile faded. “What case?” he asked, looking to Lucien.

His boyfriend grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fucking fuck,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “I wasn’t going to say anything until I was sure…”

“Sure?” Tamlin echoed. “About what? What is he talking about?” His heart started to sink without quite knowing why.

Lucien took a moment to swallow. “Eris is a lawyer, you know? One of the best. Anyway, I… I sort of asked him to look into what happened to you… You know, seven years ago.”

Tamlin fell back a step, stunned. “You told him?”

Lucien spread his hands wide, at least, the hand that wasn’t holding his coffee. “I just wanted to know if there was a way for you to get your life back… To win a-a settlement, or something—”

“A settlement?” Tamlin echoed. His voice sounded hollow and far away. “You mean going to court? Against that witch? Are you fucking serious?”

Lucien flinched and turned pale. “Tam, I just wanted to help—”

“No. No,” Tamlin said, backing away. The awful memories came back in a rush. “I am not going through that again. You can’t make me.”

“Tam—”

Jurian stepped in. “I think you need to leave,” he told Lucien coolly. When he got like this, it was easy to imagine him in an official uniform and wielding a baton.

Lucien faltered, and tried to skirt around him to catch Tamlin’s eye. “But… But I—”

“Now.”

“Come on, Lu,” Alex said quietly. “We should go.”

Tamlin couldn’t look at them. Any of them. The pancakes he had made that morning threatened to make a reappearance, and he pressed a hand to his mouth.

Lucien sounded broken. “Tam, I’m… I’m so sorry…”

Jurian remained unmoved, however. “If he wants to talk, he’ll call you,” he said firmly, then over his shoulder, he told Tamlin quietly, “I’ll meet you inside.”

Tamlin managed a nod, then opened the door to the building without looking back. He made it just inside the lobby before he started shaking.

Not a minute later, Jurian followed, sans coffee cup, and pulled Tamlin into his arms and let him break down and cry like the frightened child he was.

* * *

“Look, I said I was sorry.”

Lucien glared out the passenger window as hot tears continued to roll down his cheeks. “That doesn’t bring back my boyfriend now, does it?” he said tightly.

Alex sighed as he made a turn down a residential lane. “I didn’t know you hadn’t told him,” he said sorrowfully. “I didn’t know he’d take it so hard. Besides, you were just trying to help—”

Lucien scoffed. “Obviously it didn’t work,” he muttered, and sniffed as he swiped at his wet cheeks. “And now I’m never going to see him again.”

“You don’t know that,” Alex chided. “Give it time, I’m sure he’ll come around—”

“Yeah, in seven more years,” Lucien said mournfully, watching a line of festively decorated houses roll by. “We were going to spend Christmas together.” His chin began to quiver. “And New Year’s.”

“Come on, Lu,” Alex whined. “Don’t do this. You’re supposed to be the one comforting me, remember? I might be getting a divorce. You’re not even married.”

Lucien buried his face in his hands.

“Yet,” Alex added hastily. “You’re not married yet. You never know. This might be a funny story you tell at your wedding someday.”

“Fat chance of that,” Lucien muttered, but he lowered his hands and managed a sniff. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Mom’s house, remember?”

Lucien groaned.

“Oh, no. Don’t give me that,” Alex warned, turning onto a familiar street. “You’re the one who kept suggesting I come here,” he said, then pulled into the driveway of an old-fashioned, two-story house. “Now, we’re here.”

“You could have warned me,” Lucien complained. “I thought we were going to lunch or something first.”

Alex sighed and turned off the car. “I didn’t think you’d be hungry.”

As his brother dug his duffel bag out of the trunk, Lucien stood back and left the shopping bags where they were. Violin strings and rosin. For Tamlin.

Fresh tears filled his eyes, and he forced himself to look away. Would he ever be able to give them to him? Would Tamlin even accept them? Or would he have to live with the fact that he’d broken Tamlin’s trust in him forever?

“Alex?” Their mother’s voice drifted toward them from the covered porch. “What a surprise! What are you doing here?”

Alex smiled at her and closed the trunk. “Hey, Ma,” he called back. “I thought it was about time we came to visit.”

She gasped audibly at the sight of both of them. “Oh, Lucien, my baby!” she called out happily, then trotted down the steps to meet them.

The former Mrs. Vanserra was a pleasantly plump woman with long auburn hair she wore in a chignon. When she wrapped her arms around her two boys, she smelled like cinnamon, chestnuts, and warm apple pie.

“Mm, it’s so good to see you,” she gushed, giving them both a squeeze. As she pulled away, she looked between the two of them. “Where’s, um, Ianthe?” she asked politely.

Their mother didn’t like Alex’s wife any more than the rest of them, but she at least tried to make an effort.

“It’s a long story,” Alex said with a grim smile.

“Oh,” she said, then noticed the bag in his hand. “Oh, I see,” she said with a wince, then turned to Lucien. “How about you, sweetheart? Are you…?” She trailed off when she noticed Lucien’s red eyes, and tear-stained cheeks. “Oh, dear.”

Lucien didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d found a boyfriend and lost him all in the same week, but his mother probably already knew that. She knew a lot of things.

“Well, come inside, both of you,” she said brightly, giving her sweatered arms a brisk rub. “I just made some gingerbread cookies.”

As she turned her back to lead them into the house, Lucien gave Alex a knowing look. “Told you,” he mouthed.

Alex gave him a resigned shrug, then followed after their mother, and Lucien shoved his hands inside his coat pockets and trailed along behind.

His childhood home looked and smelled much the way it had when he was growing up, like warm bread and furniture polish. It wasn’t exactly the same, of course, since it had been sold the same year his grandfather died, when Lucien was about eight years old. The Autumn Corporation had been willed and given to the former owner’s three daughters, but his only son-in-law was named the new owner and CEO: Beron Vanserra.

The Vanserra family had led a comfortable life before, but suddenly the modest, red-brick home was too small for such a wealthy business executive, so Beron sold the house and moved them all into the heart of the city.

Lucien had really liked it at first. He finally had his own room, they went to plays and the ballet, and he could get whatever he wanted for Christmas and birthdays… But his mother no longer sang as much, and she baked—and ate—a lot more than she used to. Looking back on it, Lucien knew that his father blamed her weight gain as the reason he started sleeping around, but that wasn’t really true. Beron liked being important. He liked the attention.

Just not the sort of attention having a gay son gave him.

And Lucien despised him for it.

It wasn’t until years later, when all the boys were grown, that Beron’s ego was finally taken down a peg. Once Eris had his law degree, he helped their mother get a legal separation from her husband, and a proper settlement besides. He helped her buy back the house that she had so dearly loved. He had helped her get her name back. She was no longer the nameless wife of the CEO, Mrs. Beron Vanserra; she was once again Laura Autumn, baker extraordinaire, and mother of seven, in that order. She was finally herself again.

Lucien would always be grateful to Eris for taking that kind of risk. Beron nearly fired him when he found out, but he reconsidered once he realized that Eris could end up working for his competition. So he kept Eris close. He kept all of his boys close, even Lucien. Not in a familial way, of course, but at least the job paid well. And it came with a nice expense account… When he was allowed to use it, anyway.

While Alex took his bag into the living room, their mother bustled around the kitchen. The radio was playing a soft version of Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire. The still-hot oven filled the tiled kitchen with warmth and the smell of cinnamon. Rows of gingerbread cookies were moved from cooling racks and onto decorative platters for icing later.

Watching her, Lucien felt like a little kid again. After a long day of school, he’d come home out of the cold and kick off his shoes and drop off his backpack by the door, then clamber up onto the stool and let his socked feet dangle while his mom puttered around the kitchen. She would listen to him complain about math or how the mean kids had made fun of his lisp again, then she’d let him lick the stirring spoon, or give him a fresh cookie with a glass of milk to help him feel all better. It always helped.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the sort of problem that even homemade cookies could solve.

He let out a sigh and shrugged out of his coat, then draped it over the back of the barstool before sitting down at the counter. Just like he used to do when he was little, he hunched over and rested his chin on his fists. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, hon?”

Lucien sighed again. “Have you ever made a huge mistake?”

She smiled to herself as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, lots of times.”

He quirked his mouth to one side. “Did you ever make one so big it ruined your whole life?”

Her warm brown eyes twinkled with amusement as she met his gaze. “Nothing that dramatic, I assure you.”

“What did you do?”

Her smile faded and grew thoughtful. “Well, I married a man far too old for me, but… I was eighteen, I was in love, and I thought I knew better.” She sighed as she untied her apron strings and went on, “Now, I do know better, but the knowledge came with more wrinkles and more stretch marks than I’d care to admit.” She pointed at Lucien as she went to hang up her apron on its wooden peg. “But I want you to know that I don’t regret having a single one of you boys… I love you all to bits, even if you do turn my hair gray sometimes.”

Lucien huffed a laugh, even though it hurt a little. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way,” she said, giving him the same smirk that he and his brothers shared. She gestured to his own auburn strands. “You’ll get your own gray hairs soon enough. I can promise you that.”

Lucien wrinkled his nose and sniffed. “Probably a lot sooner than you think.”

“What do you mean?”

Alex walked into the kitchen, dusting off his hands. “Hey, Ma,” he said. “Did you get rid of the old couch?”

“Yes, I decided a loveseat was a better fit for the space.”

Alex looked truly taken aback. “When was this?”

“Oh, about three months ago,” she mused, moving some dirty dishes to the sink. “If you came to visit more often, I’m sure you would have noticed.”

Lucien and Alex exchanged a guilty wince. It had been a while.

At their silence, their mother quirked her mouth to one side and placed a hand on her hip. Tapping her elegant fingernails against the countertop, she said, “All right. Who’s first.”

They startled.

“First for what?”

“What do you mean?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’m lucky if I see one of you boys once a month, and now two of you are here on the same day?” She gestured between them. “There is something going on, and you are going to tell me. Now. Who’s first?”

Lucien took a deep breath, but Alex spoke first.

“I’ll go.”

“No, I’ll go,” Lucien insisted. “It won’t really make sense unless I start from the beginning.”

“How far back are we talking?”

Lucien swallowed. “About seven years.”

* * *

Tamlin glanced up from his seat at the desk as Jurian walked through the office door, bearing a takeout bag with Annie’s logo on it.

“Hey,” Jurian said kindly, setting it on the one clean spot on the desk. “I’ve got Corned Beef on Rye, and Annie’s famous apple pie,” he offered, shrugging off his coat. “Oh, and Alis said to tell you Hello.”

Tamlin swallowed, but he still had no appetite. “Thanks,” he said quietly, then returned his attention to the piles of papers he’d been sorting. He’d needed to file them for a while now, and now was the perfect time to take his mind off of… well, everything else.

Jurian sighed, then closed the door to hang up his coat. “So, any calls?”

“No.”

“Any calls from him?”

Tamlin shook his head this time. “No.”

Jurian considered this, then gently lowered himself into the empty seat across the desk. “You want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

“Not really.”

“Okay,” Jurian said, sitting back in his chair. He took a deep breath and twiddled his thumbs. “What about that assignment I gave you before. Any luck?”

Tamlin sighed, and ran his thumb over the papers’ stapled edge. “I couldn’t do it,” he said quietly. “There was someone there, in the park, who looked like Vassa, and I couldn’t do it.”

Jurian lowered the chair to the floor. “There’s no shame in that,” he said gently. He seemed to be considering his words carefully. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be doing this, anymore.”

That got Tamlin’s attention. “What do you mean?”

Jurian took a deep breath. “I made some calls today,” he said slowly. “There’s a Scythian embassy in the northeast part of the country. It’s going to take some time, but… the guy I spoke to on the phone, he’s interested in working with us… He wants to know more about Mr. Koschei.”

Tamlin’s brows rose in shock. “What about Vassa?”

Jurian shrugged. “Any information we can give him, he’ll take, but I don’t think we have to give Koschei anything else.”

Tamlin let out a sudden breath. It was the best news he’d heard all day. “So we’re free? Just like that?”

Jurian chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said wryly, “but essentially, yeah.”

“No photos?”

“No headshots. No nothing,” Jurian finished, smiling tightly. He shrugged again. “I thought you could use some good news, after today.”

Tamlin’s smile faded. “Yeah,” he murmured, and dropped his gaze. “Thanks.”

“Of course, this means we won’t be getting a new couch,” Jurian remarked. “So, if you’re okay with that…”

Tamlin’s heart twinged, as did his neck. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Jurian sighed and shook his head. “You don’t have to lie, you know. You can say it fucking sucks, because it does. It really does.”

Tamlin breathed a laugh, but it was a sad laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

* * *

The kitchen was almost peaceful as Lucien sat at the table with his mother and his brother, drinking hot tea and nibbling on fresh gingerbread as they looked out at the snowy backyard. Twittering birds flitted from birdfeeder to birdfeeder, fattening themselves up on nuts and seeds before perching on the same snow-covered swingset that he and his six brothers had played on all those years ago. It would have made the perfect Christmas card… if Lucien had not just finished telling his mother the story of what had happened to Tamlin all those years ago.

Crack.

Lucien winced as yet another walnut shell shattered under his mother’s forceful nutcracking.

Shells littered the table like shrapnel, but she didn’t seem to notice as she dropped the kernel into a separate bowl and reached for yet another walnut.

“If that devil woman ever dared to lay a finger on one of my babies—” She put the nut between the jaws of her metal pliers. Crack. “—She’d be marking the days on her jail cell wall with chalk held between her toes.”

“Ma,” Alex said cautiously from the other end of the table. “Don’t get so worked up. You’ll give yourself a heart attack, or—or arthritis, or something.”

She glared and reached for another nut. “Don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine.” Crack.

Alex sighed and shook his head, and Lucien sighed, too.

As he crumbled gingerbread crumbs between his fingers, he asked her, “So you don’t think I was wrong to ask Eris for help?”

Crack.

Their mother huffed. “No,” she said quietly, reaching for yet another nut. “But, really, you shouldn’t have kept it a secret from your boyfriend. If you had told him what you wanted to do from the beginning, he might have been upset, but I think he would have come around. Eventually.” Crack.

Lucien leaned forward. “See, that’s what I wanted to do, but if Eris didn’t think he had a case, I didn’t want to risk upsetting him.” He glared at his brother. “Then Alex had to go and open his big fat mouth.”

“Hey!” Alex squawked. “Don’t pin this on me,” he said, pointing. “You’re the one who stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.”

“Me? You’re the one who kept pestering me with so many questions.”

“That’s because you never tell me anything.”

“For good reason!”

“Boys,” their mother warned.

The two of them sat back andcrossed their arms and mumbled an apology.

“Sorry, Ma.”

“Sorry.”

Their mother drew a deep breath, then set the nutcracker aside. As she wiped off her hands with a clean dishtowel, she declared, “It was an unfortunate accident. What’s done is done. The only thing you can do now is… well, wait for him to come around.”

Lucien sighed again, and shoved his plate aside to slump forward and rest his folded arms on the table. “What if he doesn’t? What if I never see him again?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and rubbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby. But that’s up to him.”

“It could be worse,” Alex offered. “He could be cheating on you and giving you the silent treatment at the same time.”

“Is that what happened to you, sweetheart?” their mother asked gently.

“Yeah,” Alex mumbled, glumly swirling his mug of tea. “Well, maybe. I know Ianthe is pissed at—sorry, Ma—I mean, mad about me staying late at the office, but that’s not my fault. Dad’s been hounding me over the numbers for this stupid audit.”

“Oh, has that started already?”

“Not yet, but—” Alex sat up. “Wait. How do you know about the audit?”

“Because I called and asked someone to look into it.”

Alex gawked at her. “You mean you called the press?”

“They weren’t my first call,” she remarked, reaching for her tea, “but, yes, I did.”

“You, wha—Were you going to tell us this?”

She smiled sweetly. “If I did that, then that would ruin all the fun, now, wouldn’t it.”

“Fun?” Alex echoed.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, still smiling, and took a sip of tea.

Lucien sat up, stunned. “Why an audit? Why now?” he asked her.

She rested her elbows on the table as she cradled her mug, looking thoughtful. “That’s a good question,” she mused. “I suppose I decided to do it this way when your father’s picture appeared in the paper last month. You know, at the city’s annual charity dinner?”

“Sure,” Alex said, but he looked as confused as Lucien felt.

“I didn’t go,” Lucien said with a shrug.

“Neither did I, but do you know how much your father paid for a plate at this particular dinner?”

“No.”

“But I can guess,” Alex offered.

She didn’t give him the chance. “It was more than he gives me in a month.”

Lucien’s mouth fell open. “What?!”

“No way,” Alex declared, leaning forward. “I’ve seen the books. You should have gotten a lot more than that…”

She smiled a tight smile. “I know.”

Lucien and Alex exchanged worried glances.

When neither of them spoke, she assured them, “Don’t worry. I have plenty of savings. I’m perfectly all right.” She shifted in her seat, then went on, “But, per the terms of our separation agreement, Beron agreed to pay me a generous monthly stipend. He would never agree to divorce me, because my father wrote that into his will. If Beron left me, for any reason, he would get nothing. Unfortunately, the same was true for me.”

She smiled sadly and ran a thumb over the handle of her mug. “My father wanted me and my sisters to have some security,” she said softly. “After my mother died, he was never the same. He knew I was making a mistake by choosing Beron, but… he wanted me to be happy. And at the time, I was.”

She sighed and shook her head, then continued, “I first noticed my stipend decreasing this past summer. Beron said sales were down, and I chose to believe him. Every company has its ups and downs. I know that. Besides, Eris made sure I was comfortable.” She paused to take another sip. “But then, last month, my stipend was almost half of what it was. The holidays are the busy season. They always have been,” she said firmly, then smiled a cool, calculating smile. “So, if sales are truly down, then an audit is the least of Beron’s worries, wouldn’t you say?”

Lucien huffed an amazed laugh. “Damn,” he said appreciatively, then winced. “Ooh, sorry Mom.”

She chuckled as she lifted her mug. “That’s all right, baby. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Alex rested his chin in his hand. He suddenly looked very tired. “I wish you had told me,” he complained. “Then maybe Ianthe wouldn’t be giving me such a hard time right now.”

Their mother gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you can always call her. Provided that she doesn’t tell Beron about the audit. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you both to keep this a secret from your father, too.”

“I thought secrets were a bad thing,” Lucien pointed out, even though he had no intention of telling his father anything.

She gave him a wincing smile. “I know. But I just don’t want to give Beron the chance to retaliate. He would burn the Autumn Corporation to the ground before giving up control, especially to one of you boys.”

“Can we tell Eris, at least?”

“I’ll tell him myself,” she promised. “But only after the audit starts. Then Beron will have no reason to suspect he was involved.”

Lucien sat up with a start. “Hey, Mom, did you ever do any research, or hire a private investigator before you got started, or…?”

She looked surprised, but shook her head. “No. This was all my idea. That’s why I don’t want your father to know.”

“So, Tamlin wasn’t involved at all?”

“Did you think he was?”

Lucien felt a relieved smile grow on his face. “Eris thought he might be, because he works for a private eye, but…” He breathed a laugh. “He’s not, is he?”

She shook her head. “Not as far as I’m concerned.”

Lucien grinned, then pushed himself away from the table. “I need to go see him. Can I tell Tam about the audit? I promise he won’t tell—”

“Lucien.”

He paused at his mother’s firm tone.

She took a deep breath. “Does your boyfriend know that you suspected him of being involved?”

His hopeful smile faded. “No.”

She gave him a sad smile in turn. “Then you shouldn’t tell him. He needs time to be alone. Just give him that. Can you do that, for me?”

Lucien sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“I know this is hard,” she said gently, “but it’s for the best.”

She pushed herself away from the table to take the bowl of nuts over to the counter. As she began cleaning up, she offered, “Why don’t you stay for dinner? I have some pasta in the fridge, or there’sthat charming little pizzeria we used to go to when you were little. How does that sound? I’m sure they still deliver.”

He managed a smile. “Sure. Thanks, Mom,” he said quietly.

The pizza was as good as he remembered, but he still didn’t have much of an appetite. When dinner was over, he asked Alex to take him back to his apartment. He agreed without arguing, for once.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right by yourself?” his mother asked as he and Alex put on their coats. “You’re welcome to spend the night, you know.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lucien assured her, buttoning up his coat. “I’d rather sleep in my own bed, anyway. It’s been a long day.”

She sighed. “I understand,” she said kindly, and rubbed his arm. “Call me when you hear something, all right?” When he said he would, she pressed a bag of cookies into his hand. “And here’s something for when you get home.”

He chuckled, and accepted the cookies, and his mother’s hug. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, bending his head to kiss her cheek.

Snow was just starting to fall when Alex’s car pulled up under the awning of Lucien’s apartment. Alex kept the car running while Lucien retrieved his bags from the trunk. Before he could go inside, though, Alex rolled down the passenger side window and called him over.

“Hey, Lu?”

Lucien trudged over and leaned in. “Yeah?”

Alex gave him a tight smile. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

Lucien nodded, even though his heart wasn’t in it. “Yeah, okay. Be safe out there.”

“I will.” Alex tapped his thumb against the steering wheel. “Listen. I’m sorry again, about your boyfriend…”

Lucien shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Mom’s right. I just need to wait it out.”

Alex sighed. “Yeah. Well, if you ever need to talk…”

“I’ll let you know,” Lucien agreed, nodding. “See you at work tomorrow?”

Alex sucked in a sharp breath and winced. “Probably not. I think I need to avoid Dad for a little while. You know how shit I am at keeping secrets.”

Lucien snorted. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Alex smirked. “Hey, at least I wasn’t the one who told you Santa Claus wasn’t real.”

“Wow. Anything else you want to say to ruin my day?”

Alex chuckled and made to put the car into gear. “See ya, Lulu.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Alex was still laughing when he rolled up his window and drove off into the snowy twilight.

Lucien shook his head and smiled, but it had faded by the time he made it up to his floor. It was a lonely walk back to his apartment, and it was going to be even lonelier when he went inside. As he unlocked the door, he thought about having a glass of wine, and maybe watching a movie to unwind.

As he remembered the movie he and Tamlin had ‘watched’ the night before, he decided to havetwo glasses of wine. He’d have one hell of a hangover the next day, but at least it would give him an excuse to call off work. Then he wouldn’t have to face Eris, or their father… or the memories.

He sighed as he dropped his keys onto the little table by the door, then set his bags underneath. As he straightened to unbutton his coat, he paused. He hadn’t had any wine yet, so why was he seeing double? There were two sets of keys on the table, and the fireplace was lit, which could only mean…

“Hey, Lu.”

He gasped, and his heart leapt to his throat as Tamlin pushed himself out of one the easy chairs in front of the fire.

Tamlin managed a tight smile as he slowly wrung his hands. “Can we talk?”

#an unofficial part 2 to the previous chapter #get ready for some serious angst #and some fluff #because it is almost christmas #in the story i mean #my writing #my fanfic #acotar fanfic #tamlin x lucien #tamcien #modern au

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wri0thesley · 1 year ago

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I’m obsessed with all the jing yuan brain rot today. Just imagining chubby, short-life species reader who finds the dozing general so, so charming. He’s always so busy, but he never fails to make time for them. Drinking tea alongside him in the afternoon false-sun, barely awake as they feel him shift next to them. Mimi snuggled up between them, and the finches chirping nearby. Reader can’t help but wish the moment would last forever.

Sadly, they don’t have forever.

And even if they did, they don’t think a great general of luofu, especially one so intelligent and handsome as master Jing Yuan, would dare want them. After all, few have wanted to appreciate them properly. If the general were ever to show his favor, they’d be far too embarrassed to admit that they have no experience. No way to know how to please him.

But even that is getting ahead of themself. The general deserves someone as wise, worldly, and beautiful as himself, surely.

And yet, reader has no idea that the general has had eyes on no one but them since their first meeting. It’s so rare for someone who lives among long-life species to get to show someone the ropes. Especially someone as tantalizing as dear reader.

ARHRGRRHGH. banging my head against the wall. all of the little moments that you write off as him being kind, not realising that he only ever finds this time out of his schedule for you.

you're the only person he allows to spend his leisurely afternoons beside him - the only person he lets fuss over him a little, though usually he would try and run from anyone. the only person his finches sometimes hop from his shoulders onto - one of the only people who can call mimi and she will come. you don't notice because you're so caught up thinking that of course he doesn't want you that you cannot see what is right in front of you.

the way he rests his chin on your shoulder and hums. the way he smiles at you. the charming way he pours you tea and insists on showing you around the luofu and the way that anyone who has perhaps made an unkind remark or two about you or your body or the way that the general spends so much time with you is soon reassigned to a less pleasant job.

he can tell you are inexperienced - the shyness of your words, the twitch of your lips, the way sometimes he catches you looking and he can practically sense the heat that rises to your cheeks. all of those things are so terribly sweet to him. it eats at him that the two of you cannot have forever when he has so much to teach you. he could retire right now and happily spend the next hundred years buried between your thighs teaching you all of the pleasures his mouth and fingers and cock could bring you--

but he does not have forever. you are clearly far too shy (how adorable) and nervous to make the first move - but jing yuan is a general, a strategist, and he has plenty of plans to put into motion that will get you right where he wants you.

(breathless, gasping, moaning, panting, bare and caged beneath him).

#nat.txt #not sfw text #hsr posting #chubby reader posting

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elizaditton · 1 year ago

Text

Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 10)

Links:

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

- - - - - - - - - -

Biology is easily my worst subject, but it's made a thousand times more difficult by the feeling I get when my deskmate stares at me from above. At least, I feel like he's staring at me. I haven't been able to catch him yet.

As the teacher rambles on about the makeup of DNA, I begin to doodle absentmindedly in my notebook. A paw here, some jagged fur there, and before I know it I have a crudely drawn Catmium from Stranded. That's when it hits me. That weight. I slowly turn in my seat and look up only to lock eyes with my deskmate. My face gets hot and my heart bangs against my rib cage. I immediately turn back towards my desk. So he was staring at me! Was he staring at me the whole time?! Is he still staring at me?!

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my deskmate scribbling in his notebook. After a moment, he slides the notebook beside me and taps the page. I hesitate, but end up looking at the notebook.

Is that Catmium?

What?! What does he mean 'is that Catmium'?! I know pertheans have better eyesight than humans, but could he really see a little doodle in my notebook?

My deskmate taps his fingers on the desk, like he's waiting for a response. What should I do?! I cover my drawing with my hand and pull my notebook closer to me, and hopefully out of the boy's sight. I decide to try ignoring him in hopes that he'll just leave me alone. Fortunately for me, it seems to work as he eventually pulls his notebook back towards himself with a sigh and starts erasing what he wrote. I peek behind myself once more to look at him. His eyes are drooping and his brows are upturned. I bring my focus back to the lesson being taught and decide to pay my deskmate no mind.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Koronian was the longest class of the day just because I knew it would be the last one. At long last, the day has come to an end and I can say 'nokyer' to this school! Well, at least until tomorrow.

"That went by way too fast," my deskmate says as he walks down the hall. "What do you think?"

I sit still in his hands, yet my heart beats just as fast as when I first laid eyes on him. I keep my head down in silence, ignoring him, hoping he'll stop trying to talk to me.

"Miss Finch? Are you alright?"

"Derrick! Over here!" yells a familiar voice.

I look up and across the hall to the balcony, where Brittney is jumping up and down. I let out a sigh of relief upon seeing her, although seeing her boyfriend standing beside the balcony sends shivers down my spine. Brittney looks so alive and full of energy while he just looks to be... stoic. Maybe even a little dead inside. I have no idea what she sees in him.

My deskmate rushes to the balcony upon hearing Brittney shouting.

"Not so loud," he whispers.

"Oh, right!" Brittney says, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Here, Miss Finch," my deskmate says, placing a finger in front of me, "let's get you onto the balcony."

I reluctantly wrap my arms around his finger, the sheer size of it still somehow managing to take me by surprise. Really, how can anyone be this big? My deskmate lifts me up and places me on the balcony beside Brittney. Once I let go and he removes his hand, all I can think about is bolting for the nearest exit. I know that I shouldn't, however, as that would definitely alert my deskmate to my fear. So instead I stay put, keeping my head down lest I look up at the boys in front of me and faint.

"How was your first day back?" my deskmate asks.

"Boooring! I'm already missing New Year's break," Brittney says.

As Brittney and my deskmate get to talking about their day, the boy beside my deskmate remains silent. I've witnessed him staring at me on more than one occasion. Could he be staring at me now? My hands shake and my legs wobble. I don't want to look, but not knowing for sure is killing me! I slowly tilt my head upwards until I'm looking at the perthean boy right in his narrowed eyes. Yikes! He was staring at me! My gaze shoots to the balcony floor as my complexion turns a bright red. My mind starts racing. What could be the matter? Why would he just stare at me like that? Is he mad at me? Could I have done something wrong?

"What about you, Kaylin?" Brittney asks.

"Oh, me? What was the question?" I respond, snapping out of it.

"Do you have a favorite subject?"

"Oh, uh," I say, pondering for a moment. I'd never really picked a favorite other than art, which this school doesn't offer. "English, I guess."

"That's a good one!" My deskmate says. "I want to teach English one day, maybe in another country."

"I thought you wanted to teach Koronian?" The boy beside him asks.

"I did, but human languages are pretty cool," my deskmate says. "Besides, it would help the rest of Perthea to become more acquainted with humans."

"Awesome!" Brittney exclaims. "Well, although I could stand here talking to you guys all day, I do have a rail to catch, so I better get going."

My heart plummets to the floor. She's going home? So soon? And leaving me here by myself with these two pertheans?!

"I-I have to go, too!" I sputter. "My dad wants me home to help with dinner."

Again, Dad could probably care less if I was home any time soon, especially since it's only three o'clock. If it means I'm hanging around pertheans more, he probably wouldn't care if I'm not home until dark.

"Come on then," Brittney says. "We'll walk out together. Bye, you guys!"

As Brittney and I head for the exit beside us, I let out a sigh of relief. It's over. It's finally over.

"Wait, Miss Finch!" My deskmate says. "There's something I wanted to ask you."

I stop dead in my tracks. With Brittney already through the exit, I'm left alone with the two perthean boys. I turn around slowly, my entire frame trembling, and look my deskmate in the eyes. I swallow hard.

"Y-yes?" I ask.

"It's just that... since we're deskmates now, I was thinking we should do something to get to know each other better. Maybe tomorrow, if you're not busy... I mean, if it's okay with your parents..."

As he rambles on, I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to stop the shaking. Can't he get on with it already?!

"Do... do you want to maybe hang out sometime?" He finally asks.

Everything stops. All I can hear is the sound of my own heart beating a thousand times per minute.

"I-I..."

I stumble backwards, feeling for the door. Me? 'Hang out' with a perthean?! Never!

"No," I finally say, turning around and running through the door as fast as my legs can carry me. I have to get away. Now.

"Oof!" Brittney says as I bump into her from behind.

"Sorry," I say, still shaken up. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"And here I was talking to myself, thinking you were behind me the whole time!" Brittney says, looking me up and down. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I— well, no."

Brittney's eyes soften. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I sigh as we walk through the hall together. "I guess," I say, rubbing my arm as the shaking starts to subside. "My deskmate asked me to hang out. I was barely able to tell him 'no' and make my escape! I'm relieved I was able to get away."

"You just told him 'no'? That's it?"

"Well, what else was I supposed to say? 'Never'?"

"Kaylin... I know things must be hard for you because of your fear," Brittney says, "but you might want to try and think about how you handle it. You might end up doing something that comes off the wrong way and really hurts somebody."

My heart sinks in my chest.

"So... are you saying what I said was wrong?" I ask.

"Not what you said as much as how you said it and what you did. You ran away, didn't you?"

"Yeah... but what if he didn't like my answer? What if he grabbed me and forced me to hang out with him?"

Brittney glances at me over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised, almost as if to ask why in the world anyone would do such a thing.

"It's just— I was scared, okay? I still don't know him and I don't want to get hurt," I say.

"I know. And there's nothing wrong with that," Brittney says. "But try to remember that your actions, whether you intend them to or not, can affect others. Especially your deskmate."

"Right," I say, following her through the elevator doors and down to the school lobby.

#too small to be afraid #tstba #perthea #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing

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newsies-newsreport · 2 years ago

Text

99 things I've noticed in newsies live, but I'm autistic, Part 1:

Feel free to rewatch newsies live and play bingo

1. For some reason, Jack and Crutchie seemed to be sleeping on the fire escape or the roof of some kind

2. The lighting is amazing! The blue lights with an orange background (which is kinda like Jack is blue and Crutchie is orange) but it also show sunrise.

3. This is so random but I know they make the newsies shave their facial hair to seem younger but they made Jeremy Jordan shave under his arms as well.

4. The watch me stand bit is the only part of the musical for the next 30 minutes Andrew isn't smiling

5. Sky and Ben's voices

6. Mush/Nick checking out Albert's/Sky's ass.

7. Finch appears out of nowhere just to yell at Albert

8. Sky seemed to have trouble with his suspenders so they just cut half of it out

9. Buttons had his hat in this back pocket idk if that's important

10. Mike and Ike switch hats and so do Henry and Mush on the other side

11. Crutchie polishing his crutch with his vest

12. Why does Mush have a stick?

13. Buttons scratching his head, the dude has unlimited fleas

14. Buttons just letting the newsies do whatever, also Chaz having to flitch his eyes when Iain throws his had over his eyes, like he's going to hit him

15. Anthony hitting Chaz's head so gently, like bro, what happened in rehersals for them to be so gentle with the dude

16. Specs jumping off the platform

17. Jack tieing Crutchies shoe and sniffing his feet

18. Crutchie stealing Finch's slingshot and shooting him, when Finch comes back to get him, Jack spins him.

19. Tommy boys little skips before Finch's line

20. Henry just disappears from beside Jack as a guy does

21. Smalls and Blink carrying Crutchie, plus, Andy Richardson and Julian DeGuzman are some of the shortest newsies, they were quite literally the exact same height.

22. Iain Young is so much taller than I thought, when you see them all line up before the bridge, you notice he's just as tall as Jordan and Jeremy. Also his hair is so curly I love it

23. Crutchie helping out give out the coffee

24. So unrelated, they probably didn't give Kid Blink an eyepatch because it was a safety hazard. With all the dancing

25. Elmers voice and character in general, he's obviously supposed to be one of the younger newsies

26. Ben's voice

27. Also, Jojo, aka Joshua Burrage just looking off into space, I think he was either looking at a specific audience member or the exit, dude wants to escape

28. Buttons still has fleas, someone help that dude lmao

29. The twins have 0 lines in the whole musical other than ensemble singing

30. Elmer again, just him.

31. Sky's curtain bangs

32. Jeremy encouraging Jordan before his big tumbling solo

33. Also Jordons face omg he's so sweet

34. Jacks goofy walk

35. Why did he punch Crutchie???

36. Crutchie punching Jack back is so funny

37. The twins are quite literally gone, like, they disappear so much in the musical, do they play another character I haven't noticed yet or???

38. Smalls on Henry's back

39. I just noticed which one was Oscar which one was Morris, I always assumed the one with the vest was Oscar cause he was taller and Oscar is the oldest? But no, the one with the suspenders is Oscar, and I swear I'm not the only one that has made that mistake.

40. Jack grabbing Oscars hat

41. Fun fact, Oscar and Morris are Weasles nephews.

42. Literally all Oscar did was push Race slightly cause he was in his personal space, and Morris decides to throw Crutchie to the ground for no reason, Oscar then has to rush over to stop any fight between Race and Morris because his brother was being a moron. Poor Oscar ends up with a crutch to the shin even though he did nothing wrong. Poor bastard did nothing wrong so far lmao.

43. Romeo grabbing his shin like he's the one that got hit

44. Albert carrying Crutchie

45. The Delanceys run into eachother and Oscar let's Morris go down the stairs first.

46. Jack joining in on the jumps

47. Did Les steal a newspaper or a bag, I can't tell? Nvm he just took a bag

48. Albert just disappears after he gets his paper, he also didn't pay.

49. Jordans (Specs) face during 50/50 bit

50. Micheal Dameskis little part in the reprise, literally he's so talented

51. Also Finch in the background already selling

52. Nunzio never finished Pulitzers hair, he just went on to his beard

53. The jazzy twist on "once again is mine" is literally so satisfying

54. Some of the newsies gambling

55. Race just reading in the background

56. When Jack is hugging Miss Medda and they zoom into Les and Davey you see a newsie walking with a woman, it seems like they cut abit of it because it changes character, I can't tell which newsie but I think it's Kid Blink

57. Also Mush just there moving scenery

58. The bowery beauties flying kisses to Davey is literally so cute

59. Davey and Jack looking at eachother when Medda mentions she knows the governor, like "Does she mean-" "Yep-"

60. How does Kara move up and down ladders with that huge ass skirt

61. Katherine gestures to the audience when she says, "go tell them" because the audience are the only people that seem to care about Jacks story

62. Jack starring at Katherine's ass when he said the view is better

63. Jack drew on a news paper

64. Mike and Ike cartwheeling into the darkness and don't come back until seize the day

65. Davey wasn't even late?? Like they didn't even put up the headline?? In Carrying the banner they didn't even let in the newsies before they put up the headline

66. Oscar and Morris actually interested in the conversation cause they probably don't have a mother either

67. I imagine alot of the newsies can't read or do math so that probably why Albert both read and explained how the prices went up

68. Jojo being the only one that doesn't seem to care??? Like he's smiling even at Crutchies "sleeping on the street" comment

69. Specs Fidgeting with his bag

70. Tommy boy making sure he does have a shirt on, not Jack gaslighting him

71. Tommy boy also running away from Les

72. You don't see it but Mush hits Race with his hat, you see him take it off after Race says "can't you smell smoke" then it zooms on Jack and you hear a hitting sound then you see Race holding his arm when he walks back to Jack

73. Les escaping from Davey

74. Also why did Davey try and leave??? Where was he gonna go??

75. I like how the newsies suddenly change their minds and agree to be part of the strike when Jack calls them membership when before they really didn't want to

76. (Skipping world will know) Mushs face when Davey say "Auspicious" also one of his legs on the chair, like dude, sit on the chair

77. Jojo has a rip in like trousers

78. Tommy boy putting on his hat just to not go to Brooklyn, Mush and Buttons doing the opposite

79. Crutchie playing dead

80. Davey not doing anything

81. Davey saying "i got to take care of my mom"

82. All the boys checking out Kathrine, especially Albert, like, dudes putting on his entire rizz

83. Ben/Race checking out Kara/Katherine's ass

84. Tommy's reaction to being called a ragamuffin

85. Specs saluting Kathrine

86. Race checking out her ass AGAIN like dude

87. Tommy nodding alittle when Kathrine asks if they think they have a chance, but the dude was one of the scabbers

88. Albert just being completely dead inside

89. Jesus christ are Nicks eyes blue like, you can see them from here

90. Kathrine still checking out Romeos ass

91. Also I just realised that Romeo doesn't even know the story of Romeo and Juliet so doesn't understand his nickname

92. Smalls pulling himself up on the table

93. Everybody excited about being on the front page, Albert: 😐

94. Not Jack trying to Rizz up Kathrine

95. It actually works at some point

96. Is Jack drunk, like, is this an acting choice by Jeremy or is the character actually drunk?

97. Kathrine is so cute, like, her character is so badly written but Kara made her amazing

98. Skip to before seize the day. "Them brooklyn boys is big" "yeh and Spot-...was impressed" I swear they are making fun of his height here

99. "Are we?" Finch really doesn't want to be part of this strike

#newsies #newsies live #jack kelly #musical theatre #crutchie #davey

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card-queen · 1 year ago

Text

9 Lines, 9 People (Tag Game)

Finally getting around to tags~

Tagged by @the-down-upside-finch over on yon post

I finally got around to reworking my Chapter 1 with a looser grip on viewpoint so I can make the reader suffer in advance, so here is part of that new beginning which was ironically, 9 lines.

She stared at him, watching as the light of his eyes faded into nothingness. He was gone and she had learned nothing. Had she been wrong? S̨aera Dauz̨ eased herself into a corner of the tent as the clawing pain of her injuries had grown too intense to ignore, her eyes not once leaving the now dead body of Prince Rhian of Ethelia. She sat still a moment, her entire being ink black against the blue of the Ethelian uniforms and the deep red blood staining every corner of her vision. Frustration knotted her brow as the many irritations she had pushed aside now grew to annoyance. Disgust touched her nose as the stench of the bloody campsite stole her focus. S̨aera sat amongst a gathering of dead men who had tried to aid her, never knowing that she would be their death. Her body, racked with pain, begged to be healed and yet S̨aera remained resolute in her mind, obsessing over what must have going wrong.

There's a non-zero chance that I'll be coming back to this with a chainsaw to fix it up later but honestly, it was struggle enough just to start the new beginning and add the other viewpoint segments.

Hooray for progress, no matter how small right?

Tagging: no one. It Write Month so I don't feel right tagging anyone. But if you see this and want to be tagged: BANG. Yer tagged!

#memories of aether #writeblr #writing is suffering

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edith-is-a-cat · 9 months ago

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okay so time to number them

have four small scars on my face

the coolest (aka the eyebrow scar) was from this type of toy piano

3. the one on my forehead is from a glass coffee table, specifically from me singing along to the sofia the first intro and went along with the dip she did, slashing my forehead open, on easter 4. The other two, by my eye and mouth are from a dog bite, and it's from none of my mother's dogs from my grandpa's dog on my father's side on his weekend (i tripped over the dog and somehow he blamed it on my mom?? I was like a literal inch away from getting a messed up eyes) 5. I have many small scars on my hands and i have no idea where they came from (for awhile i didn't even know they were scars) 6. I think i have emetophobia? though it only gets horrible when it's others 7. I cut bangs for myself when i was little 8. I had braces 9. I had a gap that I miss so damn much 10. My canines are smaller than average, my right one being the smaller 11. For awhile I though you lost nails like teeth.. (i lost both my thumbnails and they regrew and my left pointer. 12. I burnt my left pointer finger on a texas shaped waffle maker, now it's a bit sensitive to heat 13. I've picked up two wild birds randomly when i was younger 14. I have a super faded birthmark that is kinda in the shape of a heart 15. I have a stuffed animal that is as old as me and got left at a hotel one time and is so apart of me it's basically why i use it/it's pronouns 16. I went to private school up until freshman year when i had to move 17. I have never had a crush, have someone have a crush on me, or dated someone 18. My favorite top three movies are: howls moving castle, cinderella (live action 2015), the holdovers 19. I don't really have a favorite song but i do have a favorite album (how to be a human being by glass animals) 20. I have a laptop that will be turning 5 next school year 21. I name a lot of things: big as teddy bear: jerry (after one of my favorite characters (hes from tales from the gas station if you are curious), teddy bear i got when i was born: teddy, eevee build-a-bear: eeveelyn, sylveon build-a-bear: levi (yes after levi from obey me), my melody build-a-bear: len (yes after the vocaloid, my best friend has a matching kuromi thats named rin :3) 22. I had to play twst twice before i really got into it 23. Twst and utdr are the only fandoms ive really interacted with 24. One of my favorite books is small steps: the year I got polio i had to read it twice in school and i read it once or twice on my own 25. My favorite book series is tales from the gas station and i could recite the blog version from heart due to how many times i fell asleep to mrcreepypasta's reading of it (his voice is so literally perfect for the mc (aka jack) and i refuse to believe the voice of jack in the theatrical release is how jack canonically sounds) 26. I have house of leaves and i have tried to start reading it but i just was unable to comprehend for a hot minute so i'm waiting to have a LONGGGG plane ride of something similar to read it 27. My main name, edie, was inspired from what remains of edith finch. I also choose it so if someone were to call me it i could use the excuse it's a nickname since my initials are E.D. 28. The name kel is directly lifted from omori, jeff is also lifted from the creepypasta but thats because i was matching pfps with my friend and they were matching ben and jeff pfps and someone in a discord server im in didn't know my name so they just called me jeff and i really like that, moss is deltarune + a meme i think about sometimes 29. I thought i was outed once via tiktok 30. I was almost outed as queer on a road trip and my sibling's best friend yelled something about it when i was playing a game on my phone that had pride flags available (he was queer too and probably just didn't realize i wasn't out) 31. I am not out to my parents and plan to never be (but they probably already know im some form of gay and don't really care <<ref: "I don't care if it's a guy, a girl, or a sea bass">>)

hey... uhm thanks for reading? that was a lot and im genuinely surprised i wrote that all

cutely kicks my legs woukd u liek to hear fun facts about me :3

#silly little bear chatters :]

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auspicious-manner · 2 years ago

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Hey loved your Riff story! Could you write a story with Race from Newsies, where they hate each other and it gets on everyone’s nerves so Jack partners them up to sell papers. And she gets hit on by one of the Delaney brothers and race gets jealous. And then a romance blossoms from there? I know that’s a lot lmao, Thanks! 💛

thank you so much omg! i love this idea, who doesn’t like a good enemies to lovers story? also, i wrote this with ben cook’s race in mind :)

racetrack x female reader

warnings: minor harassment from the delancey brothers

Dynamic Duo

•

“everybody up, it’s pape-sellin’ time!” jack yelled throughout the lodging house, banging on the sides of each bed as he passed.

Y/N sat up in her bed, lethargic from just waking up and hair completely tangled. she sat on her top bunk as she slowly allowed her mind to follow in the footsteps of her already awake body.

once she felt ready, she climbed off her bed and went to go look for clothes to wear for the day.

Y/N didn’t mind being the only girl newsie as much as one would think. she didn’t mind the work, and when she did it with her good friends jack kelly and albert, her boring job was then made much more exciting.

about two years ago, when she had just entered her teen years, Y/N’s family told her that they couldn’t afford to take care of her anymore. so, they packed her a bag with a few articles of clothing, a dollar, and some small personal belongings. as much as she despised her parents for doing this, she couldn’t blame them. she wouldn’t want herself either if she was using up a lot of money.

she was left on the streets of new york for three days before jack found her in an alley, using her old clothes as a blanket for warmth. jack took her in, introduced her to the boys, and he never asked if she wanted to stay with them and sell papers; he told her she was going to. Y/N was thankful for it, jack was welcoming to her and gave her a job and a place to sleep.

“racer,” jack started, standing in front of his bed. Y/N peered over and saw race still cuddled up under his thin covers, sleeping away the morning. Y/N rolled her eyes. race’s childish and immature personality was one that she was never able to get used to. she surely wasn’t race’s biggest fan.

“racer!” jack yelled, banging on the side of the bed. “i don’t think you wants to go a day without work, get up!”

race woke up shocked and rolled out of bed, falling onto the ground from his bottom bunk with a thump. a few of the newsies laughed, and race got up and dusted himself off. “i was havin’ a good dream, that’s all. didn’t want it to end.”

Y/N gazed at race for a moment too long, and race wasn’t having it. “what’re you looking at me for? take a look at yourself, your hair looks like a bird’s nest.”

Y/N was about to storm over to him, when she stopped and placed her hands on her hair. race was right. she had a large nest of bedhead looped around her head.

she looked back at race. “thank you for informing me, i seriously had no clue. you know race, you truly are a lifesaver.” Y/N said, sarcasm thick in her voice.

race glared at her. “just thought i’d let you know.”

after that, the morning went smoothly. she got ready in her traditional newsies clothes, tied her hair into two braids, and placed her newsies cap on her head. before the newsies went out for the day, jack called everyone together for a quick meeting.

“alright newsies of manhattan, we’re switchin’ things up for the time being. i’ll be pairing you up with new selling partners.”

Y/N smiled, excited to hear her new selling partner. she knew it most likely wouldn’t be jack, even though the two were super close with each other. jack was one to pair people up based on who he thought would sell the most papers, not necessarily who they were close with.

“elmer and jojo, you’re partners. davey, les, and finch. crutchie, buttons, and romeo. mush and specs. albert and sniper. race and Y/N. henry, you’re stuck with me. if i didn’t call your name, stick with whoever you’ve already been sellin’ with. youse all dismissed, go sell some papes.”

everyone who was paired up happily joined their new selling partner, and Y/N and race stood shocked by their pairing.

“jack, what the hell?” Y/N said, catching jack before he found henry. “you know damn well race and i don’t get along, what’s this all about?”

race had then made his way over to jack as well. “yeah jack, Y/N’s the only newsies i’ve ever disliked, and you know that.”

jack looked between the two of them. “look, i’m sorry guys, but you two could learn a lot from each other while sellin’. racer, you’re great at makin’ up headlines that sell. Y/N, you’ve got the stamina for sellin’ through tough days that any newsie would be jealous of. i paired you two up so your strengths can work together, and you can hopefully settle this conflict the both of you seem to have. now, get to work.”

jack made his way over to henry, and the two walked out of the door, leaving Y/N and race by themselves. “this ain’t gonna be fun.” race said.

“nope.” Y/N said back, leaving the lodging house with race on her tail.

the pairing followed the crowd out to the stand where the delancey brothers and wiesel stood selling the papers.

as they made their way up the line, Y/N could tell the brothers were watching her closely. oscar would turn his head and say something to morris, and morris would look her up and down. it made her infinitely uncomfortable, and she tried her hardest to ignore it.

“are the delancey’s lookin’ at you or me?” race asked, whispering so only Y/N would hear.

“me. i know they are. they’ve been doing it for the past few days.” she whispered back.

race nodded, staring the delancey’s down. once they arrived at the front of the line, the delancey’s gave her a smile. “how’s the only girl newsie doing on this fine mornin’?” oscar asked, gathering up some papers for her.

“i was doing just fine until i saw you two.” she replied, waiting for oscar to give her the stack.

“just tryin’ to make conversation, darling.” morris said.

Y/N rolled her eyes and took the papers from oscar and left, race not far behind her.

the two found a spot to sell, relatively close to the brooklyn bridge. they stood a few feet apart, as silent as can be.

“i can’t believe jack paired us up.” race finally spoke.

it took a moment before Y/N realized race was speaking to her. she turned to look at him, and then turned back. “me neither. he knows we don’t like each other.”

a man walked by, and race took this as a good selling opportunity for him. “religious group attacked by mob, killing four! you heard it here first, biggest story of the week!”

the man hurriedly gave race a nickel and took a paper, and left as quickly as he came.

“that was nowhere near the actual headline.” Y/N said, glancing down at the headline plastered on the papers, which read, “flower shop victim to robbery”.

“exciting headlines sell more papes. you gotta do what you gotta do.” race said back.

they went silent again, selling a few more papers between the two of them as the morning went on. by midday, the two had comfortably sold about half of their papers each.

race sighed after hours of silence between them. “how did our hatred even begin?”

Y/N thought for a moment. “i wasn’t a fan of your immaturity from the beginning, and you weren’t a fan of my competing good looks.”

race scoffed. “that wasn’t it. you joined two years ago and had a superiority complex because you were the only girl and jack’s newest best friend.”

“i didn’t have a superiority complex. maybe you were just out to get me or find a reason to hate me because i was a threat to your number one seller spot.” she fired back.

“i could say the same about you.”

the two paused. “well, i’m willing to be the bigger person and settle this feud once and for all. this duo is going to be exhausting if we don’t work this out. i promise to stop having a ‘superiority complex’ if you work on your maturity. deal?” Y/N spit in her hand and stuck it out for race to shake.

race considered the offer and rolled his eyes. “fine. it’s a deal.” he spit in his hand as well and the two shook hands.

the rest of the day went smoothly for race and Y/N, and they were able to strike up conversations that weren’t insulting or threatening to the other person for a change. and, jack ended up being right. they both sold all of their papers an hour before the end of the day, a feat that rarely happens.

once they made it back to the lodging house, jack approached the two. “seems like you two didn’t tear each other apart like you both expected.”

race looked down at Y/N, and gave a gentle smile. “i hate that you were right, jack.”

jack smiled, patting both of them on the shoulders. “youse should both trust me, i’m the leader for a reason.”

after race and Y/N parted ways, albert found her. “how’s my friend doin’ this evening? how was sellin’ with you-know-who?” he asked, slinging his arm around her shoulder.

“you know, it could have been worse. we’ve both mutually decided to put our hatred aside.” she said.

albert sighed. “finally. it was getting tiring hearin’ about your dislike for him.”

Y/N laughed and gently shoved him. “shut up, ‘bert. i had to release my anger to someone, jack never liked when i did it to him.”

night fell over new york city, and the newsies got into their beds to sleep until the next morning.

after race and Y/N’s initial pairing, two more full days of selling went by. some of their conversations during the day felt forced, but the uncomfortable feeling both of them got as a friendship was slowly building faded away as time went on.

like race the night before they were paired together, Y/N had a dream one night. part of her knew it was just a dream, and none of it was real, but it was too nice for her to interrupt.

she dreamt of feasting on all her favorite foods that night. chicken, bread, sweets, and more. it was delicious. she looked to her side and saw a head of blonde hair. is that…race?

“Y/N, wake yourself up you lazy bum!” someone yelled, causing her eyes to shoot open. she laid there for another second, allowing herself to come to.

“wakey wakey!” the voice said again, this time whoever it was started shaking her violently.

“god dammit, i’m up!” she looked over and saw it was race, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. she covered her eyes with her hand tiredly. “racetrack, i hate you.”

“no you don’t, we settled that a few days ago, remember?” race said, smiling.

“any more of this and i’m taking back that promise.”

race climbed down from the ladder by her bunk bed as she sleepily climbed down the ladder after him.

she got herself ready for the day, and met up with race as they walked out of the lodging house together.

after getting in line for papers, Y/N noticed the same thing she had been noticing for the past few days. the delancey’s were, once again, eyeing her.

“can’t those guys take a hint? you don’t want them.” race said. “i mean-uh…you don’t actually want one of them, right?”

Y/N giggled. “no, of course not. they’re assholes.”

“right, assholes.”

once they both got to the front of the line, the brothers said nothing, which was abnormal. every day up until now, they would always say some kind of smart remark. but not today. they just stared her down as she gave wiesel her money and took her papers from oscar.

“that was odd.” Y/N said to race.

“no kidding. i don’t trust what those two are up to.” race said back, uneasy.

they made their way to the same selling spot, a block away from the brooklyn bridge. the energy between the two had shifted, and both of them liked it. their friendly conversations weren’t forced anymore, and in between yelling fake headlines to the masses the pair grew to genuinely enjoy the other’s company. they talked almost nonstop that whole day.

Y/N realized she had judged race too soon. his childish behavior was a front for him, and beyond his immature exterior, he had a big heart and could hold a good conversation.

as for race, he came to realize Y/N was just misunderstood. being left by her family caused some abandonment issues, and it makes sense as to why she latched on to jack so closely when she first came to the newsies. he had saved her from living on the streets.

later into that day, Y/N felt a little something more. was it a fondness for her newfound friendship with race, or was it feelings? she hated that she couldn’t tell, and she hated the fact that if it was feelings, she caught them very quickly. catching feelings at all was a new experience for Y/N, let alone catching feelings within four full days of selling. she knew that the chance of race feeling the same way this early on was slim, so she decided to keep it a secret for the time being.

by the end of the day, they had became each other’s good friends. jack and albert were still Y/N’s best friends, but she felt comfortable saying race was slowly making his way up on her radar. they walked back to the lodging house together laughing about something race had said, and chasing and shoving each other like friends would do.

night fall was coming once again. after a day of hard work, she decided she wanted to visit her old home. she did this every once in a while, just to get some closure on her family whom she still loved. she couldn’t help it. she knew her parents made her leave for a good reason, they needed the money. yet, she didn’t have the guts to see them face to face again. she always thought about knocking on their window to just say hello, but she could never bring herself to do it.

once they arrived at the lodging house, Y/N turned to race. “i know it sounds crazy considering they left me to live on the street, but i’m going to go visit my parents. i do this occasionally, just to bring myself some peace.”

race’s smile fell, and he took his cigar out of his mouth. “i can come with you if you want. i don’t know if it’s the safest idea to go out at night by yourself.” race said.

she appreciated that race was protective, but she knew she was capable of holding her own. “race, i’ve done this before, i promise i’ll be fine. i won’t be gone for long, their place isn’t too far away.”

race sighed, and before Y/N could react, race wrapped her in a tight hug. Y/N was slightly taken aback, but she placed her arms around race a moment later. it felt nice, and the longer it went on, the darker the blush grew on her cheeks.

race pulled away. “stay safe, okay?”

“always.”

race smiled and pat her shoulder before going into the lodging house.

the walk to the building wasn’t too long, about a 15 minute walk. once she arrived, she climbed up the fire escape to the window and peered inside.

she noticed a small light was on in the kitchen, and she saw her mom and dad. she smiled to herself.

but, as Y/N looked closer, she saw that her mom was holding something in her arms. she focused her vision on the figure in her arms, and it clicked. her mom was holding a baby.

a wave of hurt fell over her, and she stepped back from the window. her parents never wanted to get rid of her for financial reasons, they wanted to get rid of her because they wanted a new child.

tears welled up in her eyes, and she quickly and quietly climbed down the fire escape, running through the streets of new york as she uncontrollably cried.

she had just about made it back to the lodging house when in the distance, she saw two tall figures. her running came to a halt as she realized who it was. the delancey brothers.

“oh my god.” Y/N whispered to herself. she quickly tried to hide in a nearby alley to wait for the two to pass, but her efforts were no good.

“well well well, if it isn’t the only girl newsie.” morris said, rounding the corner of the alley.

Y/N wiped the tears off her cheeks and tried to run the other way, but couldn’t when oscar came around the other side of the alley.

“please don’t hurt me, i just want to get back to the lodging house.” she pleaded.

“we don’t want to hurt you, we just wanna talk.” oscar said sweetly.

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “talk?”

“we both think you could do much better than hang around all these garbage newsies all day. being a girl amongst the guys, one of them is bound to catch your eye. we’re here to save you from that.” morris said, stepping closer.

“i don’t need help, i’m happy with my life with the newsies.”

the brothers laughed, both stepping closer to her. she stepped back, hoping to avoid both as much as possible despite being in between the two.

“give one of us a chance. we’d make it worth your time.” oscar stated, winking.

footsteps sounded from outside the alley, and when they rounded the corner, race’s blue eyes immediately met Y/N’s. she then sighed out of relief.

“get away from her. she doesn’t want either of you.” race angrily said, stepping closer to oscar.

“why don’t you let her decide?” oscar said back.

all eyes turned Y/N. “i don’t want either of you.”

the brother’s smirks both fell, and Y/N took this as an opportunity to run out from both of them and behind race.

the brothers quickly approached the two of them, and race grabbed Y/N’s arm and yelled “run!” to her.

they both took off towards the lodging house, the delancey’s not far behind them. they quickly made their way into the house and locked the door, just as the brothers ran into the door. realizing it was locked, they pulled on the door handle, swore, and walked away.

race and Y/N stood out of breath together. once they regained their energy, race turned to her.

all he said was a simple “are you okay?” and Y/N broke down, running into his arms and crying once again. this time, it was race’s turn to be taken aback, but he held her close.

after a few short moments, race pulled away and held her at arms length. “that’s it. from now on, you’re going nowhere alone. the delancey’s won’t bother you again.”

“it’s not just that. i saw my parents, and they had a new baby.”

race’s eyes widened. “but they sent you away because they couldn’t afford to keep you anymore, right?”

Y/N shook her head. “that’s what they told me. apparently it wasn’t true.”

race hugged her again. “i’m sorry, Y/N. i am so, so sorry.”

the pair stood in the same position for a few minutes, before turning around and seeing almost the entire gang of newsies staring at them. they both were lost in their own worlds with each other, and never noticed everyone was staring at them shocked. Y/N found jack and albert in the crowd, sad looks on their faces.

jack caught on, and said, “alright, let’s disperse this crowd. give the two some room.” the room full of newsies all went back to what they were doing.

“want to go back to my bunk?” race asked quietly. she nodded and followed him to his bed.

they both laid down, Y/N tucked comfortably under race’s arm and next to his chest.

“can i tell you something?” she said quietly. she looked up at him from by his shoulder, and race looked down at her nodding. their heads were mere inches apart.

“after being confronted by the delancey’s about dating one of them, i came to the conclusion that the only person i can see myself with is you. i like you, race. it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but i need to know. do you feel the same?”

she held her breath, scared of what race was going to say. race sat looking at Y/N shocked. he sat up, bringing her with him. just as she began to think of the worst outcome, race leaned down and kissed her.

after they pulled away, race said, “does that answer your question?”

Y/N smiled and closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. “yep.”

#ben cook #racetrack newsies #newsies imagine #newsies #racetrack higgins #race newsies #newsies x reader #newsies fanfiction

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rainieclown · 3 years ago

Text

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter one: new neighbours

you've been in the haddonfield memorial hospital for what felt like forever with ptsd from a robbery gone wrong when a new patient gets thrown in next to you. he's quiet, perfect company if it weren't for the high security around him.

tags: medication, hospital settings, this is before michael gets out of the hospital, orphan! reader btw, it's spoken about more in detail in the fic, michael being a mute for a while, he does speak in this tho, smut, first times, michael being inexperienced, creampie, biting/marking, big dick michael energy, hymen ripping btw

warnings: ptsd themes, therapy, mentions of murder and depression, eventual smut, loss of virginity, mild blood, slight breeding kink on michael's end

a quick note!

if anything related to the ptsd the reader experiences is incorrect/wrong please let me know so i can correct it and learn! i am researching this so i can to write it with the accuracy it deserves<3

three sharp knocks wake you from your nightmare, you sigh at the sight of the ceiling of your hospital room. bland, the room is so incredibly bland. "y/n, medication time!" the nurse that takes main care for you chirps happily through the door, and you let out a wheeze as you sit up and pull on a shirt. "coming." you say, voice monotone and small. opening the door, you see the nurse with a tray, but what does capture your eye is the guards standing by a door nearby. "miss burnham, what's going on there?" you quirk a brow, taking your sertraline from miss burnham as well as the glass of water. "oh it's just a new patient, don't worry." the nurse brushes your question off with a kind smile as she takes the now empty glass back. "come on, breakfast then art therapy!" she beams, gesturing for you to follow her. you glance at the door again, before leaving with miss burnham.

breakfast is bland too, no sugar in the porridge, no fruit, no juice. it's so distastefully bland that you want to push it away but you don't want to get told off for not eating by mrs finch who was the more strict nurse that worked on supervision in the more social places, most of the time anyway. miss burnham sits across from you, reading over your schedule from her clipboard. "so, after art therapy is your free period, what do you want to do then?" she asks, looking up at you. "can we watch a movie with the others?" you ask softly, and miss burnham's eyes brighten. "you want to socialise today?" she beams and you sigh, taking a sip of water. "sure." you say softly, glancing around the cafeteria. "that's amazing, that will make outstanding progress!" she smiles, resting her cold hand on yours but pulls away when you flinch. "sorry, i forget." she says softly, but you sigh. "it's alright." you say, spotting a scruffy teen who looked to be the same age as you being directed to an empty table.

miss burnham hums and turns to see what you're looking at. "oh, that's mr myers, he's your new neighbour." she says when she turns back to you. "he looks interesting." you say, observing the cuffs on his wrist. myers plops down at the table, ignoring the bowl they put in front of him. "hmm, stay away from him. he seems to be under high security." miss burnham says, turning back to look at myers. the boy's eyes flicker to yours and your breath hitches, a sense of mild panic rising in your throat. "if you're done, we can go to the yellow room to do some painting with doctor piers." burnham says softly, pulling your attention back to her. "sure.." you mumble, and follow her out the door, past myers who watches you the whole way.

doctor piers is a happy man who greets you loudly. you don't like his suffocating energy, so miss burnham sits you down in your quiet corner and gives you your sketchbook. you sit quietly and draw things from your childhood, things that make you happy, all while miss burnham actually colours in a colouring page with the pencils you use. you felt peaceful with her by your side, she was like your big sister considering she was close to your age. "ooh, i like him." miss burnham smiles, tapping her nail next to the rough sketch of snufkin from the moomins. "thanks..." you reply quietly, letting the nurse push the pencils to you so you can colour him in.

for once, you don't feel alone... don't feel isolated with your thoughts and bad memories. miss burnham is your safe place, your new family. "so, y/n. are you interested in anyone in particular that you want to befriend?" miss burnham asks, the scratching of her pencil on paper stopping as she leans forward as if the two of you were gossiping about crushes. "not really... just think it's good to try and ease myself back into being around people other than you." you shrug, putting the green pencil down to pick up a yellow one. "that's still good. do you want to try and finish the drawing of him." she asks, flipping the page carefully to the recreation of that fateful night. your breath hitches as you stare at the charcoal drawing of the man standing over your mother. "what else do you remember, if there's anything else?" burnham asks, watching you carefully.

it comes back in waves, it was supposed to be a robbery, your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the blood spatter, the ornament that was used as a weapon dripping with the red substance. tears fill your eyes as you let out a shuddery breath. "no." you say firmly, wanting to push the book away. "are you sure, you haven't drawn any facial features for him.. it will help the investigation a lot." your nurse reminds you, and your hand tightens on the pencil. "i don't want to!" you snap, getting up abruptly, chair screeching back. "okay, okay. deep breaths." burnham stands too, fighting the urge to gently rub your arm soothingly. "i don't want to think about it." you hiss, storming off. nurse burnham calls after you, and doctor piers looks up to see you making a run for it. "y/n, wait!" he tries, but you swerve him and run out the door.

nurse burnham can't keep up in her high heels, and you outrun her easily, making your way to your room after losing her. you're alone again, and you catch sight of myers, sat in his room just as alone as you are. the guard is talking to doctor loomis, a man who gives you the creeps. seeing an opportunity to get past, you slip into your room quickly, once again isolating yourself. in his own room, michael had spotted you through the glass on his door, and he walks up, peering into your room as best he can. "hey! back up, myers." the guard bangs his door, now without loomis's presence, but michael doesn't move. he's unfazed by the guard's aggressive nature. the noise spooked you, you looked like a deer in headlights as you stare back at him.

you seem... disturbed by something, and that upsets michael. the feeling in his chest, to grab you and hide you from the world grows at the look in your eye. michael's hand finds the door, and he yoinks it open once the guard unlocked it in an attempt to push him back into his cell. "hey! what're you-?" he cuts the guard off, knocking the man out easily. his body hits the floor as michael opens your door easily. you gasp, back hitting the corner of your wall as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "please, don't hurt me! i didn't do anything!" you yell, and michael shakes his head as he closes your door. "leave me alone." you repeat the three words like a prayer, voice quieter as your hands grip your hair with stress. "i'm not going to hurt you." michael rasps painfully, shocked at how deep his voice had gotten in comparison to the last time he spoke.

his words don't seem to get through to you, and he grows mildly annoyed. eventually, michael sits next to you and pulls you into a tight hug, hoping it would help as he had no idea what to do. you yelp in surprise, breathing slowing with confusion as you look up at the brunette with furrowed brows. "i-.. what..?" you stumble for words, but michael doesn't say anything, his empty eyes observing you. "thank you..." you mumble, once you calm down, and michael nods. "what's your name..?" you ask quietly, and michael continues to stare before answering.

"michael." he rasps, pointing at himself. "nice to meet you, michael. i'm y/n." you reply, eyes averting from his anxiously. michael sits with you as you start thinking. more intrusive thoughts break in, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes you as you rub your forehead. michael tilts his head, observing you. "sorry... it's just..." you sigh trying to find an explanation that didn't include what you thought of. "do you ever get intrusive thoughts?" you ask, finally looking at michael. the other teen nods, and you deflate with relief, he'd understand you. "they suck, don't they?" you chuckle half-heartedly, and michael shrugs. "oh, do they not bother you as much?"

he doesn't reply, and you nod slightly. "want me to show you around? i need to take my mind of things." you suggest, getting up and looking at the boy on your floor. michael seems to think for a moment before nodding and following you. you step over the guard carefully, and gesture for michael to follow you. the click-clacking of heels makes you grab the other teen's hand as you pull him around a corner. "shh! they'll be looking for me." you can't help but smile at the make-shift game of cat and mouse. it's been a while since you got to play games. michael blinks at you, letting you lead him around. "this is the rec room, it's the best room here. if you have a free period this is the best place to go. they let you watch anything they have." you smile, creaking the door open carefully.

doctor addison spots you and rushes over. "nurse burnham is looking for you." he whisper yells and you nod. "i'm showing the new guy around so shh!" you say, putting a finger up to your mouth. "it's good to see you getting out of your comfort zone. if i see her i'll tell her you're helping doctor loomis." he winks, and you smile slightly. "thanks addison." you say, pulling michael away from the room. "who's that?" michael's deep voice makes you jump. "oh, doctor addison? he's so cool, he'll give you snacks for after hours." you smile up at him, and michael notes the personality of the doctor. easy target to begin with. "you've seen the cafeteria so let's go to the gardens next." you say, peering around a corner carefully before ducking back, your back bumping into michael's chest. "my nurse is coming, quick, we can hide in here!" you whisper yell, pulling michael into doctor addison's office.

you close the door carefully, and michael observes the room. the decor is very vintage yet comfy, it suits the doctor quite well. you press your ear to the door carefully, listening as miss burnham speaks to doctor addison. you gasp as michael pulls you from the door, hand grasping your wrist. "are you alright?" you ask carefully, looking up at the brunette who didn't seem bothered. he shrugs, simply holding you near to him. your presence stirred something in him, and he didn't know if he should kill you or hold you closer. michael spots a candle stick, and his eyes dart from it to you.

michael lets out a silent breath as he decides on the latter, tugging you into his chest. your breath hitches as you hit his large frame, and your eyes come back to him. craning his head down, michael buries his face into the crook of your neck. you make a small noise, unsure of what to do as he takes in your scent. "uh... michael?" you furrow your brows, hands raised awkwardly as you didn't know where to put them. "shh." he hushes you, hands finding your hips. "what are you-?" your question is cut off by his lips grazing your neck, and it all clicks into place.

your body froze up, michael made a silent note of this. "i- uh.." you stammer as he continues to kiss your neck. "fuck, michael. we shouldn't do this." you say softly, glancing to the door. michael hushes you as his teeth nip your skin, he was testing the waters with you. your knees felt weak as your eyes fluttered shut. it had been so long since you had got to do anything like this, since you got to feel like a teenager. your hand find's michael's fluffy hair as you move his head closer to you.

taking the small success, michael sinks his teeth into your neck fully. the feelings in his chest explode as he finally marks you, suckling the dark bruise onto your skin. you whimper at the feeling, your other hand resting on his chest. eventually, his lips move again, and they find your jaw. you hum, letting him press closer to you as his lips kiss up your your own. when your lips meet, michael's inexperience really shows, he doesn't really know what to do so you take the lead.

eventually, his lips copy your movement as his hands tighten on your hips. you hum into his mouth, fingers gently stroking his scalp as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. it felt right, and you didn't know why. eventually, when michael pulls away, you gaze into his eyes and notice the scar over his right one. "oh, what happened?" you ask, fingertips gently grazing over the scar on his eyes. upon closer look, his iris was paler than the other, and you guessed his vision was poor from the one eye. you're not able to get a closer look as michael kisses you again. you hands cup his face as you melt into him, lips moving against his fluently. michael moves with you, and you gasp as your lower back hits the desk in the room. the other teen's strong hands lift you and plop you down so you're sitting on the hard wood of the table.

your arms wrap around michael's neck to kiss him again, and he's happy that you're slowly beginning to show interest in him. you make a small noise as michael pulls your legs around his waist, standing between them with his pelvis pressing against yours. teasingly, you shuffle your hips against him as you kiss him again. michael growls softly, grinding into you as he grasps your thighs roughly to stop your movements. "i've never done this before." you admit, keeping him close as he hums. "me neither." he shrugs, kissing you again. you feel eased by michael's lack of experience, it felt like the two of you were experimenting together and that comforts you.

eventually, michael's fingers find the waistband of your pants and you whimper as he tugs them down easily. "no underwear?" he chuckles softly, and your cheeks heat up. "some of us don't have that luxury." you mumble, averting his gaze. "it's fine." he shrugs, fingers brushing over your slit. you gasp at the feeling of him spreading you open, and can't help but move your hips against his digits. his middle finger teases your wet hole, and you whine when he collects some of it to bring into his mouth. you feel slightly embarrassed as he suckles your pleasure off his finger with no shame before moving his hand back down to rub his fingers over your slit again.

your smaller hand finds his, and you guide his fingers to your clit with a small moan. catching your meaning, michael's rough fingers start rubbing small circles over your bud. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingertips stimulate you. "fuck, michael!" you whimper, hands grasping his shirt to pull him closer. he hums at your words, moving so his thumb abused your clit whilst his fingers slowly pushed your hole open. you whine as his fingers press into you, your hymen stretching uncomfortably. "michael, please- i need you." you whimper, letting him lay you back on the desk. removing his hand from you, he pulls down his own pants, erection springing free.

you freeze slightly at his size, unsure if he'll fit. michael notes your uneasiness as rubs your outer thighs softly. you smile nervously as his tip rubs against your cunt, your hands grasping his anxiously as he slowly pushes into you. you wail as his cock rips your hymen, and michael smiles as your blood slowly smears his cock. "it hurts!" you whimper, grabbing his arms tightly with discomfort. michael shushes you, and gives you small kisses until you stop whining. once you've settled around the intrusion and your pussy adjusts to his dick, you give him the nod to say that you're ready. michael slowly pushes in so that he's fully sheathed before pulling out half way. you whimper at the feeling, pleasure slowly overtaking the dull pain you still felt.

eventually, michael finds a medium pace in you, smiling as his cock bobs through the skin of your stomach. you whimper, holding michael's arms even tighter as he fucks into you. "oh fuck..!" you yelp as his tip protrudes from your abdomen. "sh." he replies quickly as your back arches off the table. "fuck, michael- oh!" you press your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speeds up. eventually, his hand moves and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. you gasp and keen loudly behind your palm as your thighs tremble around his hips. michael grips the flesh of your outer thighs tightly as he adjusts your legs towards you at an awkward angle. despite the weird position, you moan loudly as his cock pushes deeper into you, his tip kissing your womb.

michael hums at the feeling as his hand gets tired of stimulating you, so as a substitute, he brings his hand down onto your swollen bud harshly. you wail at the sting of his slap, pleasure rolling through your body. taking that as a good sign, michael waits before slapping your clit again harder. unexpectedly, you cum on his cock as you shudder and tremble under him. your cunt squeezes michael's cock tightly, preventing him from moving. the way your gummy walls grip him as you twitch around him is too much, so michael pushes into your womb so his cum filled you up.

you gasp at the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, and michael seems to be loving it because when you come down from your high and loosen around him slightly, he's fucking his cum into you. you can't help but let out a small noise with every thrust, whimpering when michael stops, satisfied with how deep his cum had gone. your womb drinks up his seed nicely as you let michael grab your hands to pull you up into a sitting position. slumping against him, you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes becoming droopy with exhaustion. he grins at your sated state, pulling your pants up for you. once he is dressed as well, he picks you up carefully to bring you back to your room to rest.

michael ignores the nurses who try to stop him, marching past them as he carries your sleepy form to his room instead. he didn't know much, but he did know that only armed guards as well as doctor loomis were only allowed in his room for safety reasons and it was his best bet of keeping you with him. carefully opening his door, he closes it behind him with his foot and watches as the nurses stand anxiously peering through the window. he puts you down carefully on his bed, letting you settle as he sits down. his eyes find the nurses, one of them had left, probably to get security or doctor loomis. rolling his eyes, michael moves his attention back to you. you had already dozed off, and michael looks down to your stomach. the idea of you being swollen with his child excites him, a true marking. however, his hatred for children conflicts that, and he feels slightly frustrated.

three sharp knocks on the door can be heard, and michael lazily looks back over. doctor loomis is standing there, and he looks furious, but michael will stand his ground for you.

#michael myers x reader #michael myers #halloween resurrection

156 notes · View notes

sp00kworm · 3 years ago

Text

Black Oak (Part 2)

Pairing: Alcott Glyn (Headless Horseman) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Body Horror, Murder

PART 1

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The police arrived about an hour after you had woke-up the whole village screaming. Peswick was far away from the nearest city’s response, and you sat shivering, wrapped in a blanket from the house, clutching it close as Mrs Shaw rushed to bring you a hot drink. She and her husband were dressed, but neither went into your house. They rushed back home, bringing you a cup of tea from their own kitchen along with a foil blanket for the shock. You weren’t allowed to touch the body, and you tried to ignore the swinging noise of the corpse as you sat perched on the front doorstep to your home, sniffling into the cup of tea. The police took off their hats as they stepped past your gate, and you watched as the crime scene investigation and forensic van pulled up behind them. The two officers nodded at Mr and Mrs Shaw before smiling as best they could.

“Would you like to come with us, please?” The male officer asked gently, “Lets go inside and we’ll get your statement of events, okay?” The female officer with him looked back at the tree and swallowed hard as Forensics suited up to remove the body and take evidence.

“Come on, Sully.” He ushered his companion as he helped you to your feet and nodded to your neighbours. He whistled and smiled as he opened the door for you, “Nice old place you’ve got here.” He complimented kindly, the corners of his eyes wrinkled with crows’ feet, “Mrs Finch used to live here. Are you a relative?”

You shook as the officer led you gently into the front room, “It…She was my aunty, distantly.” You whispered as you eased yourself back onto the sofa, clutching the lukewarm tea tightly, as though it was a lifeline in your grasp.

“She was a kind woman. Made a lot of oils out of her garden, but she had nothing but trouble and vandalism with this place. Kids used to make a mess of the sides of the house regularly.” He tipped his head to the wall where the fireplace was, “It was always on the chimney. She never did anything, but the kids called her a witch and all that trollop.” He shook his head.

“You haven’t introduced yourself.” Sue gave him a lopsided smile as she pulled out the clipboards full of paperwork to be completed.

“Ah, so I haven’t!” The officer dipped his head, “I’m Officer Perks.” He pointed to the blond woman with him, “And this is my partner Officer Sullivan.”

You nodded shakily licked your lips, “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for coming. I know...Its far.” A breathy sigh left you as Sullivan took out her pens from her vest and smiled.

“We just need an account of what you did this morning and if you knew the victim.” Percy offered as he sat on your couch, “Spare no details. Even something small to you might be important to us.”

Conflict burned in your throat and gut as you thought about what had happened, “I don’t remember anything of relevance from last night. I spent the night in bed. I’ve only just moved in, so I was exhausted.” You took a shuddering breath and continued, “I went out this morning to the tree and…and I looked up… and he was hanging there, without his head.” You looked into the tea in your hands, noting that it was now ice cold.

“How long have you been here?” Sullivan asked as she shorthand filled in the details on the paperwork, “You said you moved in recently?” Perks looked from the paper to you and smiled reassuringly.

“I moved in yesterday afternoon.” You whispered and Sullivan gave you a pitying look.

Perks shifted against the cushions, “Did you have anyone with a grudge against you or motive from where you used to live?” He asked.

“No one that I know of.” You answered as you put down the cup of tea, fighting the tears and upset.

“Okay so what time did you find the body?” Perks asked. You took a deep sigh and continued to answer the police officer’s questions well into the afternoon.

Perks and Sullivan could drink their weight in tea, it turned out, and you offered them many drinks over the course of the few hours. They had a couple each, pens scratching papers as they took notes and an official account of the events for the records. You looked out of the window as Sue and Percy signed the bottom of the page. Crime Scene Investigations were hoisting the body down from the thick black branch of the oak, working to preserve the noose he was swinging by. Three people held the corpse up as they cut the rope carefully, keeping the knot intact and bagging the rope before they got the body down into the bag on the stretcher.

“He’ll need to go to pathology to determine cause of death…though I think I have a pretty good idea.” Sullivan whispered, trying not to be heard as she eyed you sat across from them. Perks rolled his eyes and elbowed his colleague.

“Here. Let me draw the curtains.” Perks stood and reached for the curtains before drawing them over the forensics team dragging the body into the bag, impassive to the blood that stained their tunics and gloves.

“I think we have everything.” Sullivan announced as she stood up and took hold of both their mugs, “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.” She offered with a small, pathetic smile.

Perks nodded his head as Sullivan as she left towards the kitchen. You heard her bang the cup on the countertop before you tugged the blanket closer and shifted uncomfortably.

“Thank you for your cooperation today.” Perks took his hat and tucked it under his arm, “I know these kinds of cases are very difficult to talk about. I have this card for you.” He held you out a green printed business card, “That’s the helpline for a couple of organisations and the other side has someone you can seek out if you would like some help talking through all this.”

You looked at the numbers vaguely before nodding and placing the card on the coffee table, “Thank you.” You replied quietly before Perks replaced his hat on his head.

“We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you once again and good afternoon.” He looked at his watch before he opened the lounge door and quietly exited.

Sue scoffed at him in the hall, “Come on. We’ve got these reports to write up.”

“Coming, coming.” Perks grumbled, “Nothing wrong with being nice. They just witnessed a damn corpse…” The voices trailed off as the front door closed behind the two of them with a bang.

Silence.

You looked to the curtains and stood up, letting the blankets finally fall from your shoulders as you fisted each side of the heavy curtains. They were old and embroidered with curling leaves. You tugged them open with a heave and watched the police vans trundle away back down the old stone roads, back towards the hills where they had come from this morning. With a deep breath, you tied the curtains back before taking one last long look at the gnarled, black oak in the garden, and heading towards the stairs for a shower and to get dressed. You hoped that a shower would wash away the sticky feeling of malaise on your skin and mind. Hot water usually purged bad thoughts, or so you hoped as you tried to erase the memory of the swinging corpse from the shrivelled branches of the old oak tree.

You shivered through the house after your shower, wrapped in a jumper and heavy jeans as you tried to navigate the halls without looking out into the garden. The memory of the body lingered with the burning feeling of the heavy box in the other room, filled with an old skull. It was a skull inside. A perfectly preserved ivory skull. The teeth were yellow with age on the enamel, and you looked to the table where the muddy box sat with the key in the lock. The headless creature had moaned and groaned as its head screamed from the other room. You turned and looked at the ornate metal decorations before daring to turn the key again. The lid popped open and flew back to reveal the skull again.

It sat perfectly still on the cushion, staring at you with empty eyes. With a deep breath, you dared to reach out and touch the skulls surface. It didn’t move. No magical energies tore out of the eye holes. It was perfectly still. It was just a skull. But the memory of it screaming and cursing inside the box was burned into your memory and you carefully picked the skull up, cushioning the bottom of its jaw before your strokes over the place where the eyebrows had once been when it was a man. It had to belong to the headless horseman, but why your aunt had it locked away in her home was another question entirely. You held the skull up to your eyes and peered into the bone of the eye sockets as you pondered your decision. There was a glimmer of gold inside the mouth which caught your eyes, and you dared to open the jaw wide enough to snatch at the shiny object. It was a single heavy golden coin which had been wedge between the back teeth. You looked at the old print and then quickly replaced it, wedging the jaw back shut as you placed the skull away on its pillow.

It sat and stared at you, and you stared at it, wondering what happened last night as you clutched at your head and sighed. You slammed the lid closed and snapped the lock closed before you placed the box in the centre of the table.

“What the fuck were you up to aunty?” You asked the air as you rushed to the kitchen to make yourself another drink. As you set the water to boil you continued to curse, thinking about the headless man who what invaded your home chasing the poor man who had ended up hanging from the tree in your front yard. The head had screamed ‘witch’ from its confines, but you had no knowledge about what it could mean. You took the hot water and made a drink before looking at the last few boxes of unpacking and scoffing, deciding that the day would be better spent researching what had slaughtered the man and hung him from your tree.

The village library was barely a few bookshelves put together and you sighed looking at the poor collection of books before you dated to approach the old librarian sat next to the desk. She had her own book open, some trashy romance novel set in the Victorian era, and she looked engrossed as she flipped the page and took another bite of her current tea cake.

“Hello?” You asked quietly in front of her.

The librarian jumped in her seat before she clutched at her chest and adjusted her glasses, “Dearie me! You scared the soul right out of me, love.” she took a moment to take a breath and close her book before she stood with a small wince and smiled, “What can I do for you?”

You could see the questions burning in her eyes. She no doubt knew you were the new person in town, and about what had happened at your home.

“I’m looking for some history books about the town. I wanted to try and get to know the place, but I don’t think there’s anything on the shelves.”

Her face pursed a little before she smiled again and pointed to the last one of the small walls of shelves, “There isn’t a lot but there’s a couple of books on the bottom shelf of the end one. For the records and such I’m afraid you will have to ask at the village hall. Rose keeps them in good nick there, lovely woman she is.”

“Ah, thank you.” You returned her smile and left her to her book as you went to the last set of shelves in the wall and started to rummage through the folklore and history books.

There wasn’t a lot, she was right, and you sighed after about twenty minutes of pulling out books. You tugged the last, thick history book from the shelf and dusted the cover to reveal a history of the local mines and hills. It wasn’t what you were looking for. You peered at the shelf again and huffed before there was a glimmer of silver lining at the back of the bookcase. You squirmed your hand to the back and plucked the small book from behind the tattered paperbacks. It was a pocketbook, stencilled with an old name in cursive, faded and marred with cage.

‘Maria Theresa Glyn’

You dusted the front and followed the name before looking around and tucking the book into your bag. You felt bad just taking it, but obviously the Librarian had no idea it was there, and the name was familiar to you. You remembered the coat of arms on the old teapot. If this was the diary of someone with the same name it might have clues, or so you reasoned as you plucked a few books from the shelf and took them to the counter after replacing the rest.

“Did you find what you were looking for, pet?” The librarian asked as you placed the books on the counter. She smiled and pulled out an old paper ticket to write your name onto. She poised the pen over the paper, and you told her your name before she copied it onto another for you and jotted the book codes down. She tutted at the date stamper and fiddled with it to get it to the correct date. Obviously not many people used the library.

“Yes, I found a few interesting things to have a flick through.” You told her as she stamped the tickets inside the books and stacked them in front of you.

“Well, you have fun...and be careful, huh? There’s a lot of weird and wonderful things that go on around here. It would be a shame if you forgot that, and something happened.” She smiled sweetly, but it sent shivers down your spine.

“Thanks. I’ll try.” You smiled awkwardly back at her before you took your arm full of books and made a quick exit back into the chilly air.

The village seemed to watch you as you wove between the avenue of trees, crunching autumn orange and brown leaves underfoot. The chill in the air mimicked their icy feelings. You were the outsider among them, and soon enough they’d come to hound you out of their home. You only hoped to solve what you had seen. There was no way a headless man was riding around taking heads...right? You tried to console yourself as you made it to your home, and past the gnarled black tree in the front garden. It was twisted and old, and the branches seemed to creak as a greeting on your return. A glare silenced it, or so it seemed, perhaps it was just the wind dying, but the tree went silent as you walked up to the door with your keys in hand. The door swung open when you unlocked it and you clutched at your books as the wind howled into the mouth of the house, screaming down the hall like a ghost before you kicked the front door shut, shivering. The old back boiler chugged in the background as you kicked off your boots and placed the books in the lounge on the small table by the chest.

When the chest remained still and silent you left to place away your bags and get a drink. You returned, rubbing your eyes as you opened the little journal you had found. It was penned with ink and quill, that much was obvious, and you ran your fingers over the woman’s name again before you touched the crest and went to find the teapot. You grabbed the porcelain handle and placed the two together over your lap. They were the same. The Glyn coat of arms. You placed the teapot down and opened the diary to look at the first passage. It was dated back three centuries ago, back when the alliance was beginning to form between the different races, monsters and humans alike, though you could tell this village hadn’t had such luxury. The entire populace was human, apart from the dairy farmers four miles outside the walls of the village. They were large goblins of some kind, cave dwelling and gangly limbed from years in the dark, but you had only seen them.

The first passage was written in neat, printed cursive, echoing the care the woman had taken to write her feelings and events down.

‘Today is the day of my birth. My birthday rather. I was given this journal by the kind Mister Glynn, as a gift, and so I find myself beginning to write down the events of my daily life, so perhaps I can look back on it and reminisce when I am old and grey.

Mister Glyn is a kind soul. He is part of the King’s Royal Entourage and the Commander of a large cavalry unit. Why he is in this small village is unknown to us all, but my father suspects it is because of the Wood Witch. Perhaps he has been tasked with taking her head? It is rumoured the armour he has is enchanted against such magic, but I feel as though those are rumours made about a dangerous and powerful man to excite fear.

He is nothing but polite to me. I suppose my father will want to marry me off to this one as well.’

The passages were perhaps a couple of pages maximum, and you flicked through the dates quickly, watching her words change from cold and indifferent to soft and loving of the man see always called Mister Glyn. It wasn’t until a year later in the diary that you saw his true name.

‘Alcott escorted me to the capital atop Mallor, his beast of a horse, though the creature seems to like me now that I bring him sugar lumps. Alcott wished to show me the city and its fruits though there is rather less fruit and more muck and grime. I am used to mud on my shoes, but I despised the odour of the place, much to his amusement. As I write, I can hear him snickering at me across the table.’

There was a few blotches of ink and another set of handwriting.

‘She stood in a man’s excrement.’

Their trip seemed peaceful, and Maria even attended a gathering at court. It seemed well until you found the final page in the diary, written across a page in shaky ink.

‘They took his head.’

There was no fond farewell at the bottom of the page or a cursive signature. It was stark and naked on the yellowed paper, like a bad omen forever preserved. You ran your fingers over the words before you flicked through the last pages seeing nothing but blood splodges and blackened dark blood at the corners. It smelt faintly of rot, and you recoiled from the smell as you looked at the empty bare pages. The back of the book was burned across the inside of the cover. It was mysterious but it seemed like Alcott Glyn had been killed. But by who? You had no idea but as you looked at the chest again and thought of the head inside you shuddered.

Alcott Glyn. There had to be a grave. You tugged your bag open and stuffed the book inside before you rushed out of the door, locking it quickly as you rushed towards the little church. It was at the top of the hill, sat in a mound of earth, subsiding on one side with props and scaffolding to try and hold it up. It wasn’t used anymore, the town hall was used to any religious needs, but it was haunting. The stained glass was dirty, and the front doors bolted and chained to prevent anyone entering. You rushed around the side of the church and looked at the dates on the graves and the dates in the diary. It had to be the 1700s. You thought back to your history lessons and tried to recall the date of the alliance war. 1774. You rushed around the small paths and glanced at the years, 1770, 1772, 1773... you looked at the gap where the 1774 stone should have stood. There was nothing, just unchurned earth and a set of roses growing from the floor. A troubling feeling settled in your gut as you meandered down the path to the back of the overgrown graveyard. There were old stones, crumbling and forgotten under blackberry vines and leaves. It was chance that you leaned down next to a short stone and looked at the faded name.

Alcott Glyn.

The name was chipped and faded, like the memory of the man. Vines grew in wild abandon over the grave, and the blackberry vines had taken over the base, winding around the whole stone with wide dying leaves. It was perfectly hidden and forgotten about. The village’s little secret in the secluded corner of the graveyard, forgotten and buried. Or apparently, not buried completely. The earth was turned over, like something had ruptured from the ground and burst free. It was a long patch of upturned soil, as long as you were tall, or even longer, and the earth and stones were wet, fresh with the rain from the evening and being upturned, as though someone had run a plower through it. Carefully, you ran your fingers through the earth, feeling the soil between your fingers before you took a steadying breath.

“Someone came out of this…” You breathed into the chilly air, your breath making mist with the cold as you stood and looked over the grave. You said it again before turning and bolting from the graveyard before the night could fall over the village.

When you reached home, you threw your bag onto the couch and grabbed the chest, prising the lock open to peer at the skull inside. It was sat, still as a statue, on the cushion, with the glimmer of gold between its jaws. You lifted it from the cushion, carefully, pulling it up to your face level as the sun set over the horizon, bathing you in a golden glow with the skull clasped between your hands. There was nothing but the distant hum of the hot water pipes in the old house to answer your stare. The skull did nothing. It sat in your hands as the sunlight died over the horizon and the night began to settle in. In your gut, disappointment settled with the cold reminder that you were holding a dead man’s skull. A real human skull. Carefully, you placed it back down on the cushion and sighed as you went to draw the curtains, ignoring the creaking of the gnarled oak tree outside your door.

The wind blew as you looked back at the head in the chest, positioned slightly skewed on the cushion. You chewed your lip and sighed before you stood over it again.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered to the skull. Nothing. The old electrics flickered for a moment, dimming before they brightened again. Silence, except for the hum of the back boiler. The breath you had been holding escaped and you turned away with a grumble before the lights surged bright and yellow, like the sun, before the bulbs exploded in a sudden thunder of noise. Glass shattered and flew across the carpet in a shower, and you gasped, covering your ears before you looked back at the cushion.

The head was sat, jaw agape, with two lights in the blackened sockets, rolling side to side. The little lights rolled like stoned before they settled on you and the open jaw began to jitter, chattering the yellowed teeth together loudly. The skull didn’t move, just snapped it’s teeth like a scared dog before it stopped, and the eyes dimmed. It was only a moment of silence before there were three heavy pounds on your door. With a gasp you rushed to draw the curtains, and gazed upon the creature stood on your doorstep, his steed kicking and throwing it’s head by the twisted roots of the black tree. The body stood there, breathing, its undead chest moving as though it needed the air.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered again with a dry mouth. All the moisture dried up from you and you tried not to shake as the skull slammed against the side of the box, it’s eyes glowing.

It shook and chattered its teeth before a voice screamed from between the open jaw, “Let me in, witch!”

Fear twisted your guts as you rushed to slam the chest shut on the screaming skull. It chanted inside the decorative metal, hollering about burning you at the stake before you took it to the front door. The horseman slammed his fist on the door again, repeatedly, as though he was going to tear it open, and you shivered as your fingers shook by the latch and keys.

The horseman began to bang repeatedly and the head in the chest slammed around, shaking your arms as you struggled to keep hold of it. You took a stuttering breath and unlatched the door, turning the keys before you wrenched it open. The headless horseman heaved puffs of misty breath up from the stump of his neck, his trachea flexing with the movement as the nerves of his spinal cord twitched and thrummed behind it, imitating life in his corpse body.

“Witch!” the skull screamed again, his head you realised as you stepped back, and the creature followed. His boots left muddy smeared marks on the wooden floors, and you looked down to see the crushed blackberries over the soles. Your heart pounded as you realised, he had crawled from the grave you had sat by earlier.

“I saw you by my grave. I will not do business with you again.” His voice came from his body this time, contorted and dark as it leaked from his lungs like a wisp.

“Business? What business have you?” You asked, voice shaking with fear.

The skull laughed in its box, a malicious and evil noise, dark and tempting, as though you were truly stupid for asking, “What business did we not have? Have you forgotten in your age, crone? Death and blood, that’s what you wanted, and I delivered it.”

“Who did you have the deal with?” You steeled yourself.

“You, you pathetic soothsayer.” He droned before his dead fist slammed the door closed, “Now give me my head. Our bargain is met.”

“I am not my aunty.” You tried, “I have no deal with you.”

The horseman stopped, his body stiffening as his horse brayed and screamed outside, kicking its hooves at the black oak with a great smash. The tree shook, shedding twigs, but didn’t fall. He stalked closer, the bulk of his frame blocking out the light from the moon and the electric fitting overhead.

“But you have my head.” The skull whispered from inside the box before he grabbed for the chest. He touched the metal of the latch and screamed, the noise escaping the corpse before you and the skull inside the box. It was an ear piercing, unholy noise which burned your ears and made your head swim in agony. The horseman clutched at his chest and the stump of his neck, his gloved fingers pressing into the gored wound of his neck as he wobbled towards the wall and grasped at it for balance.

“Fuck.” You cursed before you whipped the chest open and grabbed his skull by its eye sockets, hanging it over him as he slid down the wall and screamed again in agony, twitching against the wood.

“If I give you your head, horseman, will you indebt yourself to me? Your previous contract will be null, and you will only serve me.” You announced.

The horseman writhed before going deathly still. He laid like a corpse for a moment or two before shakily he braced his arm against the floor and pushed himself up. With a shudder he got onto his knees and kneeled before you, his neck dipped to expose the sore, congealed wound of his decapitation.

“I... I will serve.” The horseman gurgled.

“Then I give you your head to end your torment, Alcott Glyn.” You promised before you held his skull between your palms and lowered it to the spinal column of his body.

There was a great groan as the spine extended from Alcott’s body and snapped to the skull, holding it in place as the eyes burned bright with purple light, the colour of blackberries, rolling in his skull as he reached and clasped at the bone, howling as light burned from the base of his neck and enveloped his skull with a whoosh of purple fire. The fire abated quickly as the moonlight disappeared behind the curtains and the skull shimmered as muscle and tendons swarmed the bone, linking and covering the surface before the he howled, and skin crept from his neck to his face, covering the surface in a perfect alabaster coating. His eyes however, remained voids of black, the centres beautiful blackberry lights in the dimness of your home. Black waves of hair grew from his head, dripping over his shoulders like ink as he howled, leaned against the old wallpaper. They finished growing with a crackle of fire, purple flames licking at the ends before it disappeared, leaving a heaving, black eyed creature curled against the wooden floor.

Your mouth hung open as you watched the horseman shake against the wood, heaving as he reached to clutch at the hair that draped from his previously naked skull. The inky waves slid through his gloved hands and was quickly marred with dirt and blood before he peered at you through the curtain, looking at you with the purple lights in his irises which were sunken back into his skull. His lips parted before he took a deep breath, wheezing out dust and muck, coughing like a goose before he kicked the chapped skin and crawled closer to your feet. He only looked at you, staring before one gloved hand whipped out and snatched your ankle, holding it tightly in an iron grip.

“Bound to your bloodline again...” he growled, “Humiliating.” Before he pushed himself back and stood, swaying on his legs like a new-born deer as his balance came back to him. Having a head was a heavy burden.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You breathed as Alcott slammed the side of his head and beat dirt out of his ears.

“Of course, you don’t. None of you ever do. Now I’m bound here to you until the day you drop dead and rot. Why can you never let me die?” He growled in a worked-up fury, flinging his hands to the windows before he stalked to the door, his boots slamming against the wood. He swung it open, and his mount brayed in greeting, throwing its giant head back before it caught sight of you and snorted, bowing it’s neck like a graceful Swan.

“You are all the same!” The horseman shouted before the moon was revealed, a cloud moving away from its white surface. He shuddered and you watched the skin on his face disappear with the muscle, revealing the purple lights in a bare, burning skull. As the cloud recovered the moon, the base of his neck flared with purple smoke and fire, revealing the scar where he was decapitated, and his face reappeared.

“I gave you your head back, Alcott!” You shouted after him.

The horseman shivered and turned back to you, looking at you with his haunting eyes, both hands gripping the pommel and stand of the saddle, “How do you know my name?” He whispered in questioning.

With a small breath, you locked your lips nervously and ducked back to the table, grabbing the little diary from you bag before you stood on your porch and held it out to the wraith, “Maria wrote about you.”

He growled and snatched at the book, and you let him take it with a painful smile, “I know the townspeople killed you. They betrayed you. I don’t know what happened to Maria.” You confessed.

Alcott opened the diary and flicked through it before he looked at the night sky, “She lived in mourning the rest of her life. They institutionalised her after they found her carrying my head, wailing through the town. She died, high on cocktails of medicines, with her head buried in the soft soil of a flower bed.”

The revelation was something of a shock and you looked at the undead man in front of you with a bitter, pitying look.

“You watched her die, didn’t you?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

The horseman scoffed, “That was the curse after all. To terrorise the town for their betrayal. But not her. I used to try call to her from the window, but she never could bare to look at me. Eventually they gave her more cocktails and she stopped coming to the window all together.”

“Jesus Christ.” You cursed.

“Such foul language.” Alcott sneered as he snapped the diary shut in his gloved hand, “She died from the madness and grief. That is the fault of the town and its yet another reason to run into each of these homes and tear their heads from their bodies.” Alcott spat furiously. As fury overtook him you could see the white scarred seem of where his head had been replaced burning with smoke the purple fumes puffing from it like a new wound before his neck popped and cracked, sending his head to the left, hanging on by a thread of flesh to the other side. You let out a screech and clasped your mouth as the horseman gurgled and reached for his head, grasping it by the hair before he groaned and dragged it back into place, snapping the vertebrae back into place with a twist and a squelch of bloodied tissue. It cracked again quickly, and Alcott held the top of his hair tightly with a groan as the smoke poured from his mouth and his head twisted backwards like a ghoul, spinning on his neck before it snapped again and came free, rolling over the floor to your feet as a skull. The flesh and hair melted in waves of muck from its surface, and you shakily took hold of the skull again.

The horseman stumbled left and right as he reached towards you for his head.

“MY HEAD, WITCH!” He howled at you, but you dashed back up the porch steps and held it protectively.

“You are under my command. Anything against my wishes is against our contract...so you lose your head. Do you hear me horseman?” You blagged, hoping you were right, “So there will be no killing.”

“Evil, corrupt creature. I'll hang you by your feet and bleed you from the neck!” Alcott threatened as fire and smoke poured from his throbbing trachea. The smoke puffed before he went sent to the floor in agony, the black oak behind him creaking and swaying left and right as though the roots were snaking towards him. Sure enough, the ground rumbled, and the black oak’s roots exploded from the ground, snagging the horseman by his wrists and ankles hoisting him into the air as the branches hissed and his mount, Mallor, brayed and screamed, blood spraying over the fence from the horses broken throat.

It was a curse. You should have expected as much, but you shook as the tree cinched the man’s limbs, holding them tight before it pulled, making him scream in agony as his joints were pulled tight.

“Stop!” You screamed, and the tree stopped pulling, holding the horseman aloft still as it swayed and bent towards you, its branches touching your head as though trying to figure out who you were.

“He is mine.” You told the tree, “He will obey and submit to the laws of his contract.”

The tree groaned, it’s roots wiggling in the cold, hard earth for a moment before it dropped Alcott like a sack of grain and settled down quietly, smacking at the horse inching closer to its trunk.

Alcott touched at his neck as he rose, swaying as he cracked and snapped his joints back into place like a disjointed puppet.

“Are you going to play nice now?” You asked as the man wheezed in front of you. When he nodded you offered him his skull back and watched the skin and flesh cover its surface again before he snarled behind his curtain of overgrown hair, blackberry-coloured lights burning the void of his eyes.

“You truly are her kin if that disgusting thing listens to you.” He snapped as he headed for his horse and mounted the saddle with a quick bounce on one powerful leg, his thighs locking tight around the beast’s sides as it bucked and brayed. Alcott turned his horse and tipped his head with a wave of purple smoke and fire, “Call on me then, witch, and see what havoc I can wreak for you.” Alcott laughed bitterly as he turned Mallor onto the cobbled drive and rode onto the road, his face becoming bone and flesh intermittently as the clouds passed overhead.

“I’m not a witch!” You screamed after the horseman, but he was gone into the mist and the trees, unlikely to have heard you cursing against the stairs of the porch as you collapsed.

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