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sykostyles · 2 months

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let you love me 1.0

wc: 3.3k summary: in which y/n is a 26 year old bakery owner and she can't quite get this whole "love" thing right; settling on finding solace in being alone. One day, Jackson Cole: an egotistical, but oh so charismatic professional quarterback comes along and swears he can change her mind.. and for a while he does. nearly two years of breaking down her walls.. but they seem to argue about one thing a lot. y/n's "negativity". she swears she's not trying ro be a pessimist.. it just works out better for her if she keeps her expectations low. But what happens when she meets a handsome stranger, who wants nothing more than to see her smile? Will she push everything away again or will she finally accept the love she deserves? or ; tldr sunshine!harry x grumpy! afab reader part two, three, extra

a/n: firstly, I need to thank @freedomfireflies for being so kind, and accepting, and encouraging.. and so many other wonderful adjectives.. but seriously, thank you for giving me the courage to just take the plunge and write the damn thing. anddd for being my beta reader!! getting mother fireflies' stamp of approval has to mean its worthy for everyone else to see.. right? welcome to my first story! please do tell if you enjoyed! (there will be more to this, I'm working on it now <3)

cw: this story contains suggestive and explicit language, minor descriptions of violence, and verbal abuse. please do not continue if these topics upset you!

You knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. You weren’t sure why you thought this time would be any different. Because he was somebody? Because he had a title? Or was it because he showed a genuine interest in you? Was it because he made the effort unlike most of your previous partners? You weren’t sure. The only thing you were sure of? This time, it hurt. A lot.

You curse yourself as you walk hastily back to get back to your car at the far end of the parking lot. Jackson had a lot of nerve asking you to bring him his practice bag all the way from your apartment, to then basically dump you in the stadium corridor. As you’re rounding the final corner to finally escape the thickening air in the stadium, you’re completely lost in your thoughts, thinking back to the conversation you had just left behind..

“Hey, baby, thanks for bringing that. Coach was about to have my ass again.” Jackson breathes out as he sees you round the corner near the locker rooms. He takes the bag from your grasp, and places his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you into his front. Your hands instinctively reach for the nape of his neck; nimble fingers tangle in his wet hair at the base.

“Oh, but of course! Who would I be to not close up my shop early, again. Run all the way home to get your bag, again. Run all the way here just to step in and save the day for my big, strong man? Again.” You giggle, leaning up for a kiss.

That’s how it’s always been. Y/N is as sarcastic and as teasing as they come. She explains it as “playful bullying” and swears she doesn’t mean anything by it. She has genuine feelings in there somewhere, but she thinks nobody but her needs to know that. She just chooses to portray her affection in rather questionable ways.. In speaking terms, if she’s not being “mean” to you, she doesn’t like you. But she’s tried so hard to get better at it. She swears.

“Do you really have to do that now?” Jackson asks, tilting his head out of the way, dodging your kiss. You look up at him with shocked eyes.

“Do what? Save your ass? As you so graciously put it.” You say, rolling your eyes, attempting to kiss your boyfriend for a second time.

“No, Y/N, that.” He says, trying to pull from your grasp, rejecting you yet again.

“Jackson, I’m not following. Use your words.” you say, turning his head to force him to keep eye contact.

He wasn’t running from this when you spent forty minutes of your evening bringing him his bag for the umpteenth time in your relationship. Not to mention the possible business you're missing out on by closing early. Again.

“Oh my god, you’re still doing it! You’re talking to me like I’m stupid.” he says, stepping back again, attempting to free himself from your hold.

You stand there, stunned.

“He really is like all the others..” flashes in your mind.

“In what world is me teasing you about bringing you your practice bag, again, insinuating that you’re stupid?” You ask, reaching up to cup his face. “Forgetful? Maybe.” Your thumb making its way across the apple of his cheek

“See, you can't even make one single statement without attacking my character, even when you’re trying to explain yourself.”

“I’m not trying to explain myself, Jackson, I’m trying to understand what you’re talking about. And I’m not attacking your character, Jacky, I’m just teasing you. You know that.”

“You’re always like this. I can’t deal with this right now.” He says, grabbing your wrist, pulling your touch from his face.

“Can’t deal with what? Jackson, I haven’t done anything. Are you having a bad day or something? You were fine this morn– ” You start to say, tugging your wrist from his grasp.

“Just– Go home. I can’t deal with you right now, okay? I have a practice to get to.” He says, turning to walk into the locker room, but is stopped dead in his tracks..

“Jackson Wyatt Cole, you are not just going to walk away from this right now! You can’t just spout this nonsense and then turn into a child when asked to explain yourself. Now, either explain yourself or find someone else to bring you your bag the next time you forget it.” You seethe.

His head ticks to the side before he slowly turns to face you. Seeing the face you’d grown to love over the last nearly two years shouldn’t scare you, but in this moment you did not recognize him.

“You have got to be the definition of ungrateful.” Oh, he wants to do this now?

“For the greater part of two years I have given you everything and you still think you can talk to me like that?” Jackson starts to raise his voice, noticing the growing audience in the locker room hallway, and the curious gazes from all directions. Please don’t do this now..

“You’re always so mean to me. You know that?” I swear I don’t mean to be..

“You make me question every choice I make.” I’m just an overthinker, I don’t mean anything by it..

“Even the other girlfriends and wives ask how I deal with your attitude." Okay, ouch.

“You don’t think before you speak, it makes you look so rude.” That one’s true.. I’m trying, I promise..

“You’re so unbelievably condescending when someone tries to make friends with you.” I’m sorry.. I swear I don't mean anything by it..

“You think you’re right in every instance, including now. You could have just given me my bag, gotten a kiss and been on your way. But no, you’re here, holding me up, by being a right bitch. So, maybe I should find someone else, because all I can see right now is someone I’m not sure I want to waste my time and effort on anymore.” Okay.. wow. Um. Alright.. Lay it all out in front of your teammates, why don’t you?

You just let him sit there and berate you. Like a child.

That was it. He’d broken through that exterior. That rock solid exterior that you’d spend years building up. It all came tumbling down with just a few words from someone you thought you loved; someone you thought finally loved you. This is what it always came down to when you argued; your inability to see how great things were around you, always settling on the negative sides of things. Always responding with snarky comments, never meeting anyone elses enthusiasm, etc. Normally, you’d be able to hold your own and fight back, but he was using your insecurities and anxieties against you, with an audience nonetheless! How did harmless teasing turn into this?

“I’m.. s-sorry, Jacky.” You finally choked out, tears threatening to spill over. You wanted to stand here and keep arguing. “I’m not any of those things!” You want to yell. But deep down, you know that you are. Not by your own choice though. Through years of failed relationships and tainted family ties, you had become this person. You became this angry, pessimistic, shell of a girl who really only wanted to love, and to be loved, but you had no idea how to really do either of those things.

You never intended to turn out this way; it just happened.

And it just makes it easier in situations like this..

Right?

“Go home, Y/N. We’ll talk later.’ Jackson sighs, leaving you in the corridor.

Rounding that corner in the parking lot, you don’t even spare a glance and end up walking right into the broad chest of a man. Hands reach up and grasp your shoulders, keeping you from toppling over. Your hands shoot up, grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

“Woah there, love. I gotcha.” you hear.

Looking up, you’re met with the loveliest emerald eyes you’d ever seen. A smile, that should be illegal to be that bright.. And the jawline? Don’t even get me started! But, with your current state, you couldn’t have cared less in that moment what he looked like.

You slowly straightened up, dropping your grasp on his jacket.

“Sorry.” you stated, your eyes looking anywhere but his face. “You can let go now.”

“My apologies, Love.” The man says, letting his hold on your shoulders go. He studies you for a moment, glancing over the features of your face. Taking in your flushed cheeks, teary and swollen eyes, and your all but quivering bottom lip.

You roll your eyes at his use of the moniker again.

“Don’t call me that.” You mutter, glancing around, noticing the band of guys trailing behind this stranger.

He chuckles, “Well, what should I call you? M’ Harry, by the way.” He asks, reaching inside his jacket, he grabs a tissue and holds it out towards you.

“Does it matter?” You bite out, ignoring his gesture. “I’m kind of in a hurry, here. So if you don’t mind.” You say, starting to walk around him. “This is exactly what Jackson was talking about.” you think to yourself.

But you deter none, and continue your journey to your car. Once inside, the tears just flow.

Jackson was supposed to be different. He’s the one who sought you out after all.

He met you when he was picking up a cake his dad ordered for his mothers birthday.

He was smitten ever since.

Made all the efforts to make you feel special. Stopped in your bakery every single day to bring you coffee from your favorite shop down the street. Flowers were delivered constantly; especially since you mentioned that yellow tulips were your favorite.

“I don’t really date anymore.” You admitted when he’d asked you to let him take you out for the thousandth time.

“Too many bad experiences?” He questions.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You frowned, thinking back on a few of them.

Eventually, he slowly started to break down your walls and swore he’d change your mind. Even went so far as to listen to your worries and promised to face them with you..

But here he was, using them against you; just like everyone else did.

What you didn’t know, the moment you were out of sight, the man that you had left standing there turned to his assistant on his right,

“Ryan, was that the woman arguing with Cole?”

“Indeed, sir. Would you like her banned from stadium grounds for speaking to you like that?” Ryan asks, pulling his phone from his jacket.

“On the contrary, Ryan.” I intend to put a smile back on her face. “Please, get me her information.”

“Right away, Mr. Styles.”

Getting back to your apartment was a task in and of itself, considering it's hard to see when you’re bawling your eyes out. Walking in, you’re immediately met with the dread of Jackson eventually coming home.

You shed yourself of your jacket, and set your keys down on the counter. Glancing around the kitchen, you stop your gaze on the vase of flowers that was delivered to you just two mornings ago. Approaching the counter, you pick up the card stuck to the front of the vase.

“Saw these and thought of you. Hope they brighten your day a little. Have a great day, my love. -Jackson”

What had happened in the last two days?

What had happened since this morning?

You sat there immediately picking apart every interaction you’ve had with him over the time span.. You thought everything was fine. He usually loved your playful banter. He never complained before about your snide tongue when it came to him. He claimed it was one of his favorite things about you..

What changed since this morning?

“Okay, tough guy, I get it, you’re the boss.” You chuckle, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Although you don’t make it very far before you’re tugged right back down, being caged in by the man above you, sending you into a fit of giggles

“Oh, princess, I don't think you do.” Jackson says, sliding his hand up your side before settling on the side of your neck.

“Princess? Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to be a prince?”

“Does that bother you?” He questions.

“Well, considering you’re more of a frog than a prince, I don’t think it’s very accurate”

“What did you just call me?” He asks, wrapping his fingers lightly around the front of your throat. A sly smile forms on his face at the feeling of your breath hitching beneath his fingertips.

“A frog. Do you want me to spell it for you, baby?” You quip, smirking as you feel him increase the pressure on the sides of your throat.

“You’re going to forget how to spell your own name by the time I'm done with you, brat.”

“Mm, is that a threat or a promise, tough guy?” You challenge, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair.

“I’ll let you decide, princess.” He says, claiming your lips in a searing kiss.

Normally he could go back and forth with you without a thought. Did he not find it playful anymore? Was he repulsed by you now? Did he really want to find someone else?

He was fine this morning!

You were driving yourself crazy. You weren’t sure you wanted to fight anymore. Not just fight with him, but fight for him. You sat back and thought more about what exactly he’d said to you. “Even the other wives and girlfriends ask how I deal with your attitude.”

So were you the topic of conversation a lot? Was your inability to act like the other (mostly) fake girlfriends and wives a problem?

Were you really that big of a problem?

You knew you could be a handful, but you never thought it would be like this.

Luckily for you, your bakery still has an apartment unit upstairs. Your old bed was currently calling your name, so, you made a drastic decision at that moment and you were going to stick to it.

You were going to remove yourself from the situation before it could get turned into anything else. It was time to run. Not that you were going to run far, just away from whatever this was turning into, no matter how much it hurt in this moment

Eventually, you stood and walked to your shared bedroom. You grabbed your carry-on suitcase, which was always packed for the times you were given no notice about accompanying Jackson to an away game, and you retreated back into the living room.

You grabbed a notebook and a pen from Jackson’s office, and had a seat at the kitchen island. Just as you were about to start writing what you were thinking, the front door swung open and in walked Jackson.

“H-hey.” you squeaked out, dropping your pen on the counter.

“Mm, hey.” he responds, dropping his bag on the counter next to you. He walks towards the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and walking back to be across from you at the island.

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding his chin towards the open notebook in front of you, seeing “Jackson,” written at the top. “You writing me an apology letter?”

You scoffed, “I’m sorry?”

“Well that’s a start. Keep going.” He grins.

“I’m not, that’s no-“ you start, but his anger bubbles over and he’s already interrupting you, waving his hand in the air to silence you.

“You’re going to sit there and tell me that you’re not going to apologize to me? For causing a scene in front of my teammates? In front of Coach? The owner? The other girlfriends?”

“Is that what this is about? What other people think of me? You’re always bringing up what the other girlfriends think.” Tears begin welling in the corners of your eyes, once again.

It is true that you’re nothing like the other girlfriends and wives of the players. Most of them are that cookie cutter, instagram influencer type. Meanwhile, your instagram is full of cakes, and cookies, and other endless pastries. The ones you spend 70% of your life perfecting to sell in your bakery. So what you tend you keep to yourself? It’s better than hanging around the Brittany’s and the Madison’s (no hate, ya'lls names just got a bad rep) all the time and hearing gossip about people you don’t know, or care about. You keep it curtly polite in public and mind your business in private. What’s so wrong with that?

“Some of them think you’re rude.”

“Some of them need to get a sense of humor.” You mumble, fidgeting in your seat.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You have no idea how irritating you are. It’s like you constantly have to have the last word.” He all but yells, pointer finger in your face. “And don’t get me started on the constant need for reassurance. You have no idea how exhausting that is. You’re just so.. negat-“

“That’s enough. You’re actually insane.” You interrupted, standing to leave.

He was just trying to dig the knife in at this point. The thoughts of the argument in the stadium corridor long gone.

Jackson notices your carry-on settled by your feet. “What’re you doing with that?” he asks, standing from his seat.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you say, grabbing the handle “You said yourself you thought finding someone else was a good idea, so i’m doing the hard part for you. Now you can go get one of those other professional girlfriends that you seem to want so bad.”

With every word you said, he slowly got closer to you, each word irritating him further. Once he reaches you, his hands grip your shoulders, spinning you to face him.

“I don’t know where you seem to get off,” he starts, grasping your chin in a firm hold, “but this attitude of yours stops today. Do I make myself clear? I’ve given you everything. The least you could do is act a little grateful.” He states, dropping his hold on your chin. He maneuvers himself around you, grabbing the handle of your carry-on, but you don’t let go.

“I’m through being talked to this way.” You say, yanking your carry-on towards you. “You knew how I was from the beginning. If you didn’t like the way I was, you shouldn’t have pursued me.”

“You don’t have anywhere to go. You’re too.. rough to be loved by anyone else. I’m the best thing you’ve got.” He says pulling the suitcase back towards him. “I’ll just have to shape you into the person you should be.”

You’re just having a full on tug of war game at this point. “Do you even hear yourself? The person I should be? What is that supposed to mean?”

“More.. obedient. You constantly embarrass me with your attitude in front of people. Important people, might I add.”

“Jackson, you really are insane. You think that just because you’re some big shot quarterback that you have any right to treat me this way?”

“Treat you what way? The same way you treat me?” He sneers, moving closer to tower over you.

“If you think me teasing you about forgetting your fucking practice bag all the time is the same as using my genuine fears and anxieties against me then you really are insane. Keep the suitcase then.” You say, letting go as he’s pulling it again.

You’d find a way to replace everything you’d be leaving behind.

“If you walk out that door, you’re done; we’re done.” Jackson says as he’s hot on your trail.

“Is that a promise?” You ask before slamming the door behind you.

You were startled by the sound of shattering glass. Knowing Jackson, he’d just sent the vase of flowers that adorned the counter straight into the door as you slammed it shut.

Assuming this, only solidified your decision further.

You were done.

With relationships.

For good.

Right?

a/n 2.0: thank you for reading this far! I honestly can't believe all of these words came from the thing inside my skull! I swear that thing is broken more often than not.. but seriously! thank you for reading! please go give my dear @freedomfireflies some love from me as well <3

please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed!

#mdni & dividers both by @/cafekitsune #harry styles #harry imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader

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hopefull-mindset · 4 months

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Design Analysis: Kouyou Ozaki

Have you ever wondered why everyone has assumed Kouyou to be a courtesan or brothel owner when there has been no specification in the main series?

First, there is the fact she refers to herself using “wacchi” (わっち), a pronoun that had been used by Geisha and Oiran alike in the Edo Period. Second is that, while she doesn’t have as many layers or hair ornaments, her large Obi is still tied at the front, and wears a Uchikake over her kimono. An Uchikake by itself is not an indicator, but I would think she has it to accentuate what she’s meant to resemble.

An Oiran is a general term for a high-ranking courtesan who has taken up some traditional arts and refined in their entertainment skills, putting them above the common prostitute. The term “Oiran” (花魁) means “flower leader”. It was said to be used by Kamuro and Shinzo to refer to the older courtesans and eventually became their title. It is theorized to come from the phrase "oira no tokoro no nēsan" (おいらの所の姉さん), but there is no exact and official origin of why they’re referred to as such.

They are exclusive because of their price ranges and the highest ranking had a degree of choice in who they had in their company. They get confused with Geisha often because of their similar skill sets and when you don’t know what you’re looking for visually, but in addition, this is mostly the fault of the Occupation of Japan with many coupling both of them into what they’d call “Geesha Girls” and mistaking Geishas for prostitutes. Many even called themselves a Geisha to bring in business, but Geisha’s legally couldn’t promote sex (that didn’t stop them though sometimes if they needed the cash). They are not distinctive only because one of them can practice sex work and the other cannot. Besides my previous comments on accessories, layering, and their distinctive Obi, Oirans have more extravagant coloring and designs on their clothing.

Not to be confused with the Tayū, whom Oiran had taken after in their clothing. Tayū are not as relevant in pop culture, so do not worry about trying to tell the difference in fictional media because they’re 100% going to be an Oiran unless specified. If you would like to learn more about Tayū and not look at confusing wiki pages, I recommend reading these: Karyukai Workers and Roles, The Look of Oiran Versus Tayuu, and this nice video about a modern day Tayū.

While Shinzo are the new debuting girls late into their training, a stage before that is the Kamuro. Kamuro are young girls sold by their parents to either pay off debts or have fewer mouths to feed, and some were even born into it. On the surface, the deal of their daughter becoming someone so luxurious was desirable and made it easier for them to give her away, but not all of them got that life and had to fight for that position. Kamuro were put under the care of senior courtesans who would teach them the skills they’d need while Kamuro did their chores for them. Kamuro were also considered a social marker of how rich the courtesan was to be able to provide for these girls, but they were limited to only caring for two. It was an exploitative and abusive industry that groomed them into this life. These girls can’t leave because they’re stuck to a never-ending contract that they need to pay off in their work because of the costs of their living, so competition for the top spot wasn’t only for the idealized life promised, but to get a higher paying customer to pay off their contract to escape.

Kouyou’s backstory is heart-wrenching in this context. We don’t have details of how she ended up there or the rest of what happened, but you can’t deny the resemblance between the life of a young girl in the red light district trying to escape her conditions with a man who has promised her freedom and Kouyou wanting to live in the light outside of the Port Mafia’s unlivable darkness with someone who wanted to show her that. Along the same lines, Kyouka can be seen as a Kamuro that Kouyou has taken under her wing and wanted to leave herself. Granted, using sexual favors is manipulation 101 and she could’ve learned this anywhere, but it would make sense if she had learned this from Kouyou as a courtesan. Kamuro weren’t ignorant of what their “Older Sisters” did.

There are many differences between the life of these girls and the bloody one Kouyou had lived in the Port Mafia, and it’s not as if I’m implying she had lived the life they did as we don’t know much, but the similarities can’t be just coincidence. As for “brothel owner”, the Yakuza unsurprisingly stick their nose into the sex work business, so it wouldn’t be too hard to assume Kouyou was looking over these things.

Side comment: “Ane-san” is old-fashioned, so the only time you’ll see it be used instead of just “Ane” or “Onee-san” is in a historical context, or with the Yakuza to refer to the upper echelon female members.

(I refuse to use something not from mayoi, bones art… is ugly)

Kouyou’s crimson hair comes from her name “紅葉”, which can be translated to “Red (Autumn) Leaf”, or roughly “Crimson Blade”. It’s referred to as crimson in the light novels, but we all want to call it deep pink. Either way, both colors are deep-seated in love and she wears it all over. Her uchikake starts light at the top and deepens the lush cherry blossom pink into a bloody red where it drags at the floor with trailing bellflowers (or some type of thin petaled bellflower). Her inner kimono is pure black, except at her shoulder where only a piece of pink is left, and at the bottom are prominent red spider lilies. Their color is emphasized with a transitioning dark shade of purple.

Red spider lilies are infamous because of their connotation with death, but there’s more to it. They’re considered “hell flowers” and could lead the dead to reincarnation. Used in funerals, legends say that seeing someone you will never meet again will have these flowers bloom in your path. They’re flowers that bloom in autumn and the meanings they have are: painful memories, abandonment, passion, independence, giving up, longing, and “never to meet again”.

Kouyou is a mournful soul whose past has never left her, especially in the face of confronting Kyouka’s choice. For these flowers to appear in the inner darkness of her design is significant to how deeply his death had affected her, but also the abandonment of what she regards as her “born nature”. That man had wanted to show her light but had only contributed to the growing darkness that she wasn’t allowed to escape. She had died that day with him, and could only keep walking in the flower field of death she had created. It’s only the piece of light on her shoulder that is left of her past self.

Now, the bellflowers on her uchikake can mean: Loyalty, gratitude, faithful, unchanging, honesty, and discipline.

If the Port Mafia had once been a place of terror and misery, then Mori had changed that for her and made the Port Mafia her home. She is forever grateful for what he has done to make this life livable again and dawns this flower gracefully with light colors. She chooses to wear these light colors over her kimono because even if she resents the hypocrisy of the people who can live in the light without criticism, she still wants some semblance of that dream after her soul has been blackened to that gain. Harukawa, when designing these characters, keeps in mind what organization and type of person they are when color coding them. It’s also with the understanding of what shades will appear darker and lighter in the manga style. Harukawa says that she made sure to give Kouyou light colors and kept her eye from being dark to signify that she’s a good person.

In the manga, her outfit is slightly different from the anime’s design. Her uchikake is paler and does not have any flowers on it, and the flowers on her kimono are much more... vague, so if there are better candidates than my guesses, then be my guest and throw me a bone. From the silhouettes, I will assume that the largest visible flower is a water lily and/or lotus and the flowers growing on the branches are sakura blossoms and/or plum blossoms. It’s fitting considering she is introduced with sakura blossoms falling around her, but they could be plum blossoms too as “花魁” can refer to them in some cases.

Water lilies and Lotus flowers are very recognizable, and I’m sure most of you have seen them around. Their meaning of “purity of heart” comes from how wild water lilies will usually be white. Similarly, lotus flowers are seen as pure because they can bloom in mud without staining themselves. Other meanings water lilies are given are: Rebirth, trust, faith, and kindness. With lotus flowers, they are: Rebirth (again), “to change someone’s mind”, “eases suffering (of the heart)”, and resilience.

Ignoring the meaning of faith and trust since we had already gone over it with the bellflowers, both possible flowers emphasize her good nature and the renewal of life that Mori had blessed her with. Mori had eased the mindless suffering caused by the old boss and changed her mind about what the Port Mafia was to her. She pushed through the muddy waters of the old boss’s darkness and stood her place well in her strength.

Sakura blossoms and plum blossoms introduce two different meanings in their symbolic usage. Plum blossoms bloom in the winter cold in the signal of spring coming, showing the prosperity of life in the hardest of conditions, while sakura blossoms remind us of life’s impermanence and that its beauty can only last for so long. Plum blossoms also can mean: elegance, nobleness, patience, loyalty, hope, and renewal. If these are Sakura blossoms, then they can mean: renewal (again), violence, and hope (again).

In the context of these flowers appearing on her kimono, they mean something different than the renewal of a new era Mori had brought. The remark at the beginning of chapter 17 gives us a personal meaning for Kouyou to what sakura flowers are to her. They are the blooming hope of a girl’s wishes, but they eventually have to drop not long after growing up and facing their reality. Remaining a bud is impossible, so Kouyou, in defiance of this eventual fate of this girl, sees slashing the girl’s heart to be more merciful than the long, doomed drop they all have to face. Kouyou is a bloomed Sakura flower who has already dropped, and her change had started there, not when she bloomed. Even if a part of her had died, she still clings with no real hope.

This is the only image we have of her kimono without anything covering it. This is right at the end of the Guild Arc where they are celebrating their accomplishment. Kouyou sheds her outer bright colors because there is no room for that in this setting and trusts Chuuya and Mori enough to shed any pretenses. They’ve all dressed casually, so she would too. The leaves are meant to be red maple leaves that also show up in the flashback of Kouyou of you look carefully. As I’ve said before, these have to do with her name. The vague firework-like design that shows up are either enlarged spider lilies or chrysanthemum flowers. Assuming these are the white kind, they mean: truth, loyal love, admiration, and sincere heart. However, the yellow kind can mean “slighted love”.

She is sincere inside and out, even if some of that sincerity isn't as pretty as what it looks like from a distance. “A flower that blooms in the dark can only survive within the dark” is a sentiment she lives by after all. If it is a yellow chrysanthemum, then its meaning is what you’d expect from her lonely heart.

Bonus round

Welcome if you have read this far, this is where I stray from her main outfit and talk about outfits that only appear once. This first kimono is what she wore when staying put in the Armed Detective Agency’s capture so that Kyouka would be able to live out a dream she can’t bring herself to live out. The white kimono is covered with columbine flowers. They can mean: risk-taking, good fortune, faith, folly, hope, and specifically for white columbines, “I’m concerned for this person”. Negative/inverse meanings include: The emblem of deceived lovers, ingratitude, and faithlessness.

What this means in Kouyou’s overall situation shouldn’t be too mind-boggling. She is in this room for Kyouka’s sake and is fairly concerned about how this plan of many risks will play out, but has faith in Dazai’s abilities. She is her most stripped version of herself and works with good intentions with Dazai under this idea, so she only wears light. Kouyou though is only left to her thoughts, her own past in that room. She is glad for Kyouka, but it only leaves fear that Atsushi won't be able to live up to something he promised so she ensures that he is committed to helping her into the light and strong in a way that man wasn't able to be.

The second one is from the chapter art with Kouyou and Mori leading Soukoku away from each other. It’s an outfit that reflects her mindset during her time with the old boss, an inverted palette from what she’s currently wearing. She hasn’t fully embraced her environment yet. Unfortunately, almost all of the flowers and plants are a bit too vague for me to point out. There is only one flower I think I recognize on her right sleeve that looks like a bird, and it is called an Egret Orchid. The only meaning of significance here is: “I think of you even in my dreams.” Some sources will say, “My thoughts will follow you into your dreams”, but I think this made more sense in this context.

This sentiment is regarding that man who had told her such an innocent lie. She not only hid her sorrowful, pure yet broken heart inside the guise of flowering darkness but weaponized this sorrow in her violence and climbed the ranks of the Port Mafia. He is a source of regret, hate, and sadness. He is her only semblance of what hope and love could resemble, and it has become a corrupted and negative thing to her in his death. Pure darkness is the only thing can trust for people like her… but she still ponders what that life will be. His influence had never left her, whether it was for better or worse.

—

Alright um

I don’t typically do analysis like this as I don’t find clothing all that interesting to look into, but there is merit to thinking about what a character is wearing even on a surface level. It can be a show of their social rank, their job, their interests, their personalties, their culture, etc. but there isn’t always a deeper meaning to their clothing on a theming sense and I can’t find it in me to usually be interested in doing it myself. In most media, the clothing only indicates the era the characters are from and how marketable they can be.

Luckily, BSD is one of those stories that do put heavy consideration on what the characters are wearing and how their clothing changes overtime for some. Obvious examples include Harukawa’s color pallet consideration to indicate what type of person they are and what organization they are from, Dazai’s clothing swap when he leaves the Port Mafia, Chuuya’s many outfits as show of his growth in belonging to the Port Mafia, the coat passed down from Mori to Dazai to Akutagawa, and the Yin-Yang coloring of Atsushi and Akutagawa that stays consistent even in Beast where they swap.

When doing clothing analysis you’re almost expected to overanalyze and stray into your own interpretations of what certain things mean, when sometimes there isn’t any intended meaning. None of that is a bad thing though! You don’t have to rely on an author or artistic word to analyze a thing, but I tend to have a hard time with just making claims like that. So I picked this concept for Kouyou because I have my own ideas for the thought process behind her design that felt right and find it intriguing enough to share. I had actually asked a friend if I could take her from their hands since they had been planning to do their own clothing analysis, but got stuck. So thank you for letting me steal it!

I’m not a historian or whatever, but I do like sharing what I do know about certain topics! Unexpectedly, this took more out of me than I thought. I’ve written more in a shorter time, but I got stuck with having to write about one certain topic than the character entirely. I will probably never do something like this again, at least not with flower meanings. Who knew how much work it was to actually explain what they mean in context in such a big bunch?

The day I finish that Odasaku analysis is when I’ll read The Golden Demon.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #kyouka izumi #ozaki kouyou #analysis #bsd analysis #bsd meta #no more…#*looks back at my huge pile of reading I have to do*#FUCKK

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saerins · 4 months

Text

⋆୨ chapter four ୧˚ behind a box of reasons why

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter three - for a while, you were all mine <> next: chapter five - if not for this love of mine ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 7.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, abuse/gaslighting, some blood, trauma sharing | notes: sorry if there’s any mistakes !! rushed this out and had no time to proof >_< but heh i tried to keep angst minimal so enjoy <3

Tumultuous is a fair word to describe your honeymoon. Between being over the moon when Sae finally started acting like an actual husband to you and being down in the dumps when you realise that he’s still in contact with the ex-girlfriend that he had apparently promised to wait forever for, you’re still a little conflicted.

Still, you’re easy to appease, given how easily you believed him when he promised you he’d stay. You chalk it up to you being efficient—you’re not about to let your overactive imagination ruin your days. You’re just going to trust Sae, even with that little seed of doubt already planted in your mind.

There’s a part of you that believes he wouldn’t bother promising anything he didn’t mean; although you should know he could, given the day of your wedding, both of you lying through your teeths about loving each other. You’d like to believe that the present is different somehow.

It proves hard to do though, given how you’re achingly suspicious every single time a routine changes.

Like this morning, when Sae tells you he’s taken the day off and tells you it’s for no particular reason when you asked him about it. That paranoid voice in your head keeps wondering if he’s just using that time to meet with Mirin.

The chat messages you saw from her that day is an indication that they’re still on friendly terms, if anything. And somehow, it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?”

Your coworker and best friend at work, Sumi, asks as she swivels her chair around to look at you, the concern lining her brows.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” you tell her, trying to brush it off as you offer the widest smile you can manage.

Sumi sighs, the scepticism clear on her face. “You’re always bottling things up to yourself,” she chides, with a hint of motherly affection your own lacks. “If you need to rant just remember I’ll listen to you anytime, okay?”

Days like this, you’re thankful for nice people like her who treat you normally despite knowing you’re the owner’s daughter. Even working in a subsidiary they own, it’s hard to escape the greedy ones who try to get close for perks.

“Thanks, Sumi,” you tell her, a genuine smile on your face this time. “Maybe I’ll take you up on it one day.”

You’re usually grounded, and you don’t usually allow stray thoughts to influence your mood or decisions. But somehow, it’s difficult when it comes to Sae, and you have to wonder whether it’s because this is the first time you think you’re in love with someone.

How would you know what it is, anyway? How should you know if it’s what you’re feeling? You’d thought Reo was someone you loved, but that felt entirely different. It was always comfortable, like a safe space that you’d rather keep stagnant than to try rocking the boat.

You think about it the entire trip home. Back home, where you’re wondering if Sae’s there, or whether he’s out with—god, you don’t even want to think her name.

When you open the door, you don’t see anyone there, and you feel a sinking in your chest. You’d been hoping that he’d be there and you can keep from overthinking, but maybe that’s asking too much. And just when you’re ready to give up and pour yourself a bath and hope to fall asleep while having one, you hear someone clearing their throat as you retreat down the corridor to your room.

Spinning around, you see your husband there, hair a mess and face stoic as usual, looking like how you first left him in the morning. You blink once, twice, wondering if you’re dreaming. Sae doesn’t usually like to stay cooped up in his room, which was why you’d thought he wasn’t home in the first place, but it looks like you thought wrong. (Yay!)

Sae’s about to speak when you cut him off.

“Oh! Right, dinner—let me put my stuff down and I’ll cook something up!” You’re already bounding down towards your room as Sae tries to call out your name, unfortunately falling on deaf ears.

But he doesn’t have to wait much to get a reaction out of you, your mind twirling a thousand possibilities in your head as to why the fuck your stuff are gone from your room.

Sae thinks it’s absolutely comical how the first things he hears out of your mouth are: “Sae, are you kicking me out? Where’d you send my stuff?”

Because in every single universe, that would be your first thought.

He doesn’t say a thing, only offering you a roll of his eyes and a sigh as he gestures with his hands for you to walk the other way.

So you do—slowly. You walk towards him, furrowed brows and eyes searching his expression for answers which, unfortunately, do not give anything away because he’s annoying like that.

Fifteen agonising seconds (for Sae) later, you open his bedroom door to find your “missing” items.

The books you’re reading are on one side of the nightstand, your clothes that you’d haphazardly collected on a pile on your chair are in a similar arrangement on the other side of the room where the study desk stands, and even your beloved Santa doll is situated on one side of the king-sized bed, sitting atop the pillow.

Turning around to face Sae again, you suddenly feel the guilt wash over you. While you were thinking that he’d go out and meet his old flame, he probably spent the whole time carefully moving everything over.

To his bedroom.

It takes you a while to really connect the dots.

Sae, on the other hand, is too impatient to wait for you to speak, your mouth slightly open and looking like a total idiot. For once, the expression you see on his face isn’t completely stoic. There’s a lilt in his eyes, and a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Okay, you figure out where the fuck your room is, and I’ll sit here and wait for you,” he tells you, the playful sarcasm dripping from his lips, his inviting subtle chuckle sounding like the signal of forever.

He sits down on the couch, idly flipping through the channels while you enter the bedroom further and take your time looking around. And by that, you mean to make sure you’re not dreaming.

You slap your face a couple times, you open the cupboard to ascertain your clothes are there, you peek into the bathroom to find that Sae is unexpectedly kind of corny because you find matching his and hers sets of toiletries.

A few minutes later, you find yourself at the doorway, Sae looking at you expectantly, brows raised. “Yes, wife?”

Now he thinks you’re kind of pathetic because he can see your face light up from just a little call of your title. But Sae thinks he might like that look on you. Maybe a little too much than he’s comfortable with.

Your excited grin dissolves into a sheepish one. “That sounds kinda corny.”

Sae shrugs, getting up off the couch, “guess that’s the last time I’ll call you that then—” But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because you slap your hand across his mouth, and Sae can almost laugh at how different you are from the first time he saw you. Still as pretty, just a little less reserved, a little more happy.

“I take that back,” you tell him, giggling and skipping away to the kitchen, not giving him any time for a rebuttal. “What do you feel like tonight? Fish?”

He follows you, looking over your shoulder as you get the food ready. “Anything, as long as you’re cooking,” Sae says, as if it’s normal that he says shit like that and it takes everything in you not to make too big a deal out of anything he says. “Oh, I’m going out drinking with the guys later by the way, so you can get to bed first.”

Yeah, as if you can get to bed when you’re that happy and excited. Later that night you just end up tossing and turning in bed, grinning yourself silly. And who can blame you? It’s the first proper time that Sae is solidifying that he’s had a change of heart. Even if it’s in spite of all your uncertainties. To which Reo had told you to try talking to him and asking him about it because he’s your husband and you really shouldn’t have to be afraid of talking about the difficult stuff when you have to be with him forever.

Reo’s right, you know that. But you’ll hold off on it. Only because you don’t want to possibly ruin this right after it barely started. It’s foolish, but you really don’t want to go back to square one.

Even if it’s the right thing to do.

That night, Sae gets home only after three, to which he finds you peacefully sleeping on your side of the bed, phone still with its screen lit up. You must’ve been scrolling through it before you passed out.

If he was sober, maybe he would’ve allowed himself to think that this gesture of his was just a whim, that it was a moment of weakness. That you don’t really mean all that much to him. After all, how could you, when he just met you not long ago?

But he finds himself treading carefully, and he finds himself moving quietly, all in the name of not disturbing your sleep. And maybe he can’t convince himself you don’t mean that much to him anymore.

While he gently settles himself on the other side of the bed, your phone buzzes and Sae looks over, your text chat with Reo left open on your screen. The slept already? weak. message he just sent you would’ve been left at that by Sae, except he sees one message at the top, a night, stupid. call me if you need anything.

And so maybe he feels more for you than he thinks. Because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that message especially because Reo’s your best friend but Sae’s stupid in relationships and he scrolls a little bit upwards and sees the previous message from Reo.

maybe i should marry you instead, sae who 😇

It’s irrational how much it can bother him. Even if it’s dated over a month ago.

When you wake up the next morning, you find yourself pressed up against Sae, his head atop of yours, his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing’s slow and steady and he’s definitely not up for work, it looks like. And neither are you, because this moment feels precious and you’re not sure what spurred that on, to hug you to sleep out of nowhere, maybe it’s the alcohol, but whatever it is, you’re thankful for it.

At times like this, you’re grateful for the fact that your parents own the company. They’ll be fine if their daughter ditches a day of work. Especially since this was what they wanted from the start—for the marriage to work.

ok, i’ll pick you up later. see you, stupid.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

Frantically, you try to suppress your grin and lock your phone screen, but it doesn’t escape her—your reason for being happy.

“Meeting your husband for dinner tonight?” Sumi asks, looking like she’s been bored out of her mind for the past half hour anyway.

Deciding it’s pointless to act coy, you nod. “Managed to convince him to cook with me so we’re just gonna stop by the market later.”

“Wow, look at you guys,” she cajoles, nudging you playfully on the elbow. “You know, the first few weeks of your marriage you looked absolutely miserable, I was beginning to wonder if he was abusing you or something.”

You laugh awkwardly, because you can’t blame her for that. For the first few weeks you’d been spacing out at work, going home looking so downtrodden, and then going back to work looking like a zombie. It’s not that much of a stretch for Sumi to think so.

“If he ever treats you like shit, you tell me, okay?” Sumi tells you, looking as fierce as she can muster. Which is funny because she’s a small petite-sized girl, not any older than you and has such pretty brown doe eyes that it’s almost more adorable than angry. “I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Later on, when Sae waits for you in his car at the lobby, Sumi follows you, curious to see what your husband even looks like because she wasn’t invited to your wedding despite your adamant requests to your parents to include her. Lucky for you, she’s understanding enough.

“Hey, from here your husband looks kinda handsome,” she whispers to you, trying to make out what he really looks like from behind the tinted windows, but it’s hard to see especially when Sae has his shades on. Still, Sumi tries to wear her cynical face, “but a husband who doesn’t even open the door for his wife? What a—”

As if sensing her cynicism, Sae hops out of his car at that moment, black Burberry wool coat shielding him from the cold. He looks straight out of a magazine that you can’t even blame Sumi for gaping as he walks over.

“Hey, ready to go?” He asks you, ignoring Sumi at the side who’s completely gone mute.

“Yeah let’s go,” you tell him, internally laughing at how meek Sumi turns, reminding yourself to make fun of her tomorrow for it until your mind goes completely blank as Sae plants a kiss on your cheek.

You’ve been able to process when his affections go on in private, or around strangers who barely pay any attention, but when he kisses you in front of your friend, you’re half-embarrassed and half-flattered.

Sae puts his hand on the small of your back, starting to guide you to the passenger seat before he turns back to look at Sumi. “Do you need a ride too?”

Sumi hurriedly waves both her hands, shaking her head. “No no, it’s fine I wouldn’t want to interrupt your date,” she tells him, and you snicker. She’s being a whole lot more polite than you’re used to her being but you suppose it’s not weird for people to be intimidated by Sae.

He nods curtly in acknowledgement before he goes around to the driver’s seat, Sumi mouthing a ‘have fun’ as she winks at you.

That’s exactly what you plan to do—you and Sae being at the grocery store together makes you feel like everyday life with Sae, even if it’s doing something simple like this, it really won’t be so bad. His initial cold shoulder and semi-hostile nature has completely gone, and he’s been initiating a lot of things too that you wouldn’t feel right doubting him too much over whatever you might’ve seen back in Korea. Or maybe it’s just your aversion to confrontation that’s speaking.

Either way, you decide to shove it to the back of your mind for the future you to deal with.

A flick to your forehead brings you back to Sae, his deadpan face unamused as he finishes the self-checkout.

“What’re you daydreaming about?”

With a cheeky grin, you shake your head. “Nothingggg.”

Sae clicks his tongue, brushing his card against the reader and doesn’t even wait for the receipt before he’s pushing the trolley full of dinner out to the car. “Mm, must be about me then.”

You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks, pouting as he raises a brow at you, taunting you to deny him. But you don’t, because you’re honest to a fault and Sae knows that.

He suppresses a grin, looking smug as he loads the food onto the trunk, earning a smack on his arms from you.

The ride back to the apartment is so different from the first that you can barely believe it. Sae’s cursing out everyone he had to deal with at work today and you know he’s only doing it because he’s comfortable with you now and it warms your heart. Compared to the first time where he barely spoke to you or even deigned to look at you, you’re impossibly happy right now, your playlist blasting over the speakers while Sae entertains your questions about his day.

“If you hate it so much, why’d you agree to take over the business then?” You ask, though quietly, because you’re not sure if it’s too sensitive of a question.

Sae goes silent for a second, like he’s considering whether he wants to tell you. “There was something else I wanted to do.”

He’s not really answering you, but he’s trying to give you something, and that’s all you really need.

“What was it?”

By instinct, he drives slower whenever he’s thinking. His hand on the joystick tenses up a little, gripping it slightly tighter before he ultimately releases it and shakes his head. He looks in your direction before looking back to the road ahead.

“I’ll tell you next time, okay?”

If he isn’t ready to share, then you’re not willing to press him either.

“Okay.”

By the time you reach home, the atmosphere between you and Sae has dissolved to normal, and you’re all for a wonderful date night in, happily thinking how you should torture Sae by giving him some insanely difficult tasks just to see how he would handle it—until you realise the world loves giving you bad surprises.

The moment you open the front door, your laughter dissipates, replaced by a perplexed smile as you notice the two guests sitting in the living room.

“Darling, there you are!”

Your mother bursts forward to hug you while your father remains expressionless, standing in the bright living room, black suit a stark contrast against the white walls.

Behind you, Sae sticks close, whispering an are you okay? in your ear, waiting for your nod before he relegates to the kitchen to put down the groceries.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, we had a copy of the key since we were helping to furnish the place for you both and we just missed our baby so much that we wanted to drop by,” your mother announces, and you already want to gag from the amount of bullshit you hear.

This is definitely not normal parenting.

“Would you like some tea?”

From the kitchen, you can already hear Sae brewing something. You want to help him, but your mind goes numb, drawing a blank. It’s never good news whenever you see your parents. Their care has always been a ruse for some other agenda, and you don’t know if you want to know what they’re really here for.

Questions fill your mind. Questions like why must they come at such a time? or why are they here at all? and then comes the feeling of impending doom all because that since you’ve been young, you’d only ever been taught that your parents’ will are absolute and that you’d rather die than have to disobey and suffer the consequences.

But a warm hand on yours begs to differ. Before then, you didn’t even realise you were trembling.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sae’s right there, beside you, already made sure your parents are distracted by the tea. Calloused fingers intertwined with yours, a gentle squeeze—one, two, three times—to get you to calm down.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really.”

“Sure you don’t wanna just tell ‘em to go?”

“I can’t.”

Two simple words and Sae doesn’t ask any more. There’s a certain kind of comfort to know that he’s here with you, that he’s someone like you, that he knows what you’re going through and out of everyone, he would understand. Two older siblings who unfortunately have to obey their parents’ every wish for probably different reasons and yet suffer in the same way anyway.

“Let’s go,” he tells you, gently dragging you by the pinky. “I’ll take your side whatever it is, so don’t worry so much. We’ll get them out of here in no time.”

Sae makes it sound so easy he makes you nearly believe it. But you of all people know your parents are anything but easy.

About five minutes into small talk (and by that you mean that they’re skirting around, asking about all the pictures hung up in the house, asking why you two still looked kind of awkward when your pictures show otherwise, and last but not least a very awkward question your mum threw about asking for a grandson to which Sae had choked on his tea), your father wastes no more time trying to get to the point.

“So, Sae, how’s our daughter treating you?”

Caught off guard by the question, Sae clears his throat, picking his words wisely. “She’s perfect, sir. Why do you ask?”

Internally, you’re grateful he’s being more polite than he usually cares to be. Can he feel you stressing out beside him?

“Nothing, just curious.” Your father throws you a dirty stare before focusing his attention back on Sae. “So nothing’s been off, then? Everything’s all good?”

Sae’s just as confused as you are, but he keeps his cool, nodding. “Everything’s great. We were actually having a date night in before, well, we saw the both of you here.”

Your father doesn’t say anything much after that. Your mother does most of the talking, but you know this is all just part of their plan. That’s what they always do. Your father is the one who’s straight to business, doesn’t waste his time or energy speaking in some roundabout manner. But he’s not a businessman for nothing—you can’t get anywhere without establishing a connection, and that’s always where your mother comes in. She’s always charming to people who aren’t aware of the inner workings in your family. That’s why you’re immune to it. And after hearing so many negative things surrounding your parents, it looks like Sae is as well.

The next ten, twenty minutes are carried by your mother, talking about anything and everything in the world. Sae talks more so you don’t have to.

“It’s fine, you can pick that up, we’ll have some alone time with our daughter,” your father says after noticing that Sae’s phone has been vibrating for a while now. There’s a pattern—his phone vibrates, Sae silences it, it starts vibrating again. Like the caller either has some emergency or they know nothing about personal space.

Sae’s about to reject again when you put your hand over his, squeezing it in the same way he did. “It’s fine, just go.” And come back soon because I don’t want to be left alone with them for too long—you try to telepathically implant that thought in his head, anxiety gripping tightly onto you.

It’s not like he wants to leave you defenceless, either. He of all people know what toxic parents are like and yours are class A vultures. But he’ll get this call out of the way and then switch his phone off and help you get out of whatever this is.

But then he sees the caller ID and he stills for a minute before picking it up. “Mirin?”

Over the phone, he can hear her muffled voice, saying his name and then a string of words he can’t understand.

“Hey slow down, what’s wrong?”

Mirin’s just sniffling now, and maybe it’s because of all the years of friendship and relationship they had that she can still tug on Sae’s heartstring.

“Remember that you said you’d be there for me if I needed you?” She asks, half sobbing in between. Sae doesn’t know what to answer her, so he keeps quiet. “I really really need you right now.”

Sae hesitates a little. “How bad is it? Can it wait because—”

Mirin’s sobbing gets even louder. “No, please, I just… I really need you here, Sae.”

Maybe it’s because he rarely ever heard her cry like this. Or maybe it’s because of how it’s different when there’s someone crying and begging for him that the words just slip out of his mouth before he realises it.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me, yeah?”

Out in the dining room, you’re drumming your fingers nervously on your thighs, shrinking under the heat of your father’s gaze.

“So, have you been behaving, Y/N?” It’s your father speaking, and he’s as relentless as ever. The moment Sae is out of earshot, he’s back to his authoritative tone, the one that he used to ring terror on you and your little sister as children. The one he still uses to this day to assert his authority over you. To remind you that you’re being seen as his properties, that you’re just a cog in the machine that runs for him.

Even if you’re not sure what he’s referring to, you nod anyway. You haven’t done anything wrong.

Somehow, you feel like nothing you do can appease him, because the next moment, he’s heaving a deep sigh, getting up and sitting himself in Sae’s seat, flipping his iPad open and scrolling through something on the screen.

What he shows you next makes your heart sink to your ass.

It’s a picture of when you met Reo last, before you went to Korea, when you were confiding in him about Mirin. There’s nothing wrong with meeting him, you know that. In fact, your parents keep a good relationship with his for a reason. They just never pushed you to marry Reo because there are bigger fish; namely, the Itoshis. But what’s wrong with it is the angle from which it was taken; it’s from behind Reo, and the way he’s leaning forward and your eyes happen to be closed, it looks like you’re kissing him.

You can tell your father a thousand times that that’s not what’s going on and that the angle is misleading, but you know that’s not what he’s nitpicking about. It’s about how you carry yourself, you can recall from those lessons he tried to instil in you as a child. It’s about not giving anyone else anything to say anything about.

“We were just having—”

“I don’t care, Y/N,” your father sighs, rubbing his temples, entirely frustrated for god knows what reason. “I don’t care if you want to be a fucking tramp and fool around with someone else when you’re already married. But if you do so, you better make fucking sure no one sees you.”

There must be an art to how he can say words so cruel, filled with toxin and yet his face remains so straight. There must also be an art on how to not give two fucks because your mother’s in her original seat, sipping on her tea as though this is a normal evening as any.

“Dad, I’m not doing anything wrong with—”

“Do you know how hard it was for us to convince the Itoshis that you’d make an excellent wife?” He cuts you off once again, spitting words that could break your bones. “And here you are, flaunting around town with that Mikage boy.”

Is it bad to say you’ve lost all will to fight when you realise your parents don’t care one bit if you’re in the right or wrong? You want to ask how they managed to get such a picture too, but you doubt they’d entertain anything from you right now.

“You know, we thought you were finally useful after all this time,” your father ponders out loud, eyes fixed on the marble tabletop instead of at his own daughter. “But here you go again, making a mess of everything.”

You’re about to speak, but this time it’s your mother that cuts you off.

“Honey, I don’t think you realise the gravity of the situation,” she says, her voice silky smooth and calm even though what she’s saying is quite the opposite. “This marriage marked a wonderful partnership with the Itoshi company, the merger is almost finished and we don’t want you to ruin it all by wasting your time with some second-rate boy.”

That must be the first time you feel the anger bubbling up and threatening to burst where all other times you’d feel scared. To call Reo second-rate is uncalled for, and your fist clenches, ready to argue, when you hear your father chuckling beside you.

“Looks like this girl can’t control her temper either,” he says, as though you aren’t even here. “That Mikage boy aside, looks like our poor girl here can’t even control her finances.”

“What?”

By now you’re more than just a little confused. You’re used to them having a say in everything when you still lived with them. But now that you’ve already moved out, you’re already used to the freedom that came with not having to worry about them criticising your every move. Turns out, that was premature. Even after moving out, they still make sure to keep track of every single thing.

“Tell me why there’s barely any money left in your account,” your father demands, tone lacking any sort of sympathy and choosing to go full on accusatory. “Did you just go insane and spend it all? Did we bring you up to be a spoiled brat, is that it?”

There’s a dagger to your heart with every single syllable. Finally coming to terms with the fact that your parents never loved you nor cared about your wellbeing hits harder than you expected. They didn’t miss their daughter nor did they care about her happiness in the marriage. It was only ever about them them them.

“I didn’t—”

“Honestly, after all this time you still haven’t learned to control yourself. First it’s with Mikage and now it’s with money—”

“I’m afraid that was my doing, actually.” Sae cuts your father off, stepping in for you, reappearing at the kitchen doorway. His teal eyes are cold, staring straight at your father. “I told her to move it to a joint account since we’ll be sharing finances.”

Your father narrows his gaze, shifting his attention to your husband, your hands shaking under the table. Why does it feel like some bad confrontation is going to happen? One thing’s for sure: your father doesn’t like that rebellious tone of his.

“And what makes you think you qualify for that? What if you try to swindle my dearest daughter out of all her money? As her father I’m sure you can understand why I have my concerns.”

For the most part, it looks like Sae is unfazed, and why wouldn’t he be? From what you gather, it doesn’t look like he’s had such an easy childhood either.

“Then as her father, I’m pretty sure you’d want the best for your daughter, right?” Sae asks, more taunting than anything. “She’s chosen to put her trust in me, so I’m handling it. She doesn’t have to worry. Sounds like a good deal, no?”

Sensing the defiance oozing out of Sae, your father goes back to his favourite target: you.

“Is that right? You trust your husband over your father’s words now?”

The threat in his eyes is real. They’re daring you to go against him, like they just know you’re way too scared to. But then you catch the pair of eyes behind him—the teal ones that look at you gentler than they’ve ever been—and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so scary.

A single nod of affirmation from Sae is enough to give you that pump of courage that you need.

“I trust Sae a hundred percent,” is all you say, deciding that’s enough to get your point across.

But maybe you’d been obedient a little too long, and you’d been spared from how harsh your father could be for too many seasons that you didn’t see it coming. You’d forgotten how cruel he can be, both mentally and physically.

With his hand raised, you watch it go up the same angle like it always did back then, and you’re reminded now of just how much force is behind one of his slaps. You remember the way your little sister cried as she hugged her teddy bear, watching you take the blame for her mistakes and bearing the brunt of your father’s anger. Your eyes squeeze shut, the fear taking over.

You wait for it to land, but it doesn’t.

When your eyes open, Sae’s there, his hand around your father’s wrist, a vein appearing on his forehead as he stares him down.

“You may be her father, but I’ll have to tell you this: don’t you dare hit my wife.” Sae’s more menacing than you thought he could be. His knuckles are white, your father feeling the force before yanking his own hand away.

As always, he’ll look at you with all the hatred he can muster, unwilling to back down. “You ungrateful little bitch—” His words still hurt, but you catch sight of the pot of tea he’s thrusting towards you and you squeal, instinctively cowering backwards. Either way, either the scalding hot tea or the porcelain with which it’s made is going to hit you.

But once again, you’re proven right to trust Sae, because he’s in front of you in a heartbeat, shielding your body from any harm, letting the pot hit the floor, breaking into countless little pieces, some tea splattering onto your arm and you can’t even imagine how badly Sae got hit.

Still, he doesn’t wince even a little bit. He’s still staring at your father, but with his back facing you, you can’t really see him.

“Mr L/N, this is the last time I’m going to tell you nicely. If you dare to hurt Y/N again, I’ll personally stop the dealings myself.”

Your father bursts out laughing at Sae’s declaration, as if he doesn’t believe that Sae has that sort of authority. In all honesty, you’re not sure if he has. But you appreciate the thought. You’re still a little shaken up, eyeing all the little sharp pieces of glass all around the floor.

“Honey.” Your mother’s voice is soft but firm, and she’s only glaring at your father. It’s a look that tells him he needs to back off. It’s a warning, only because she’s his only anchor. She doesn’t care about any of this that’s going on, only at the fact that offending Sae might put their relationship with the Itoshis at risk.

Clicking his tongue, your father rolls his eyes and gets up and you can’t even wish for him to accidentally step on a piece of glass because he’s wearing his shoes in the house. Always prepared.

“Suit yourself,” is his last parting words before he strolls out of the apartment, banging the door shut behind him and leaving you two to the mess.

The first thing you do after they leave is get up and make sure Sae’s okay—although you’re quick to realise he’s not, because his pants are soaked with the tea and there are cuts on his feet and ankles, none too deep but they are still the result of your father’s temper and you feel only guilt. He got into this shit because he was trying to defend you.

But you find out that you’re always underestimating Sae when you feel his strong grip around your arm, preventing you from moving even more.

“Hey, careful, you’ll get hurt,” he tells you, harshly but only because he cares.

You manage a weak smile, “says the one who’s already hurt.”

Sae chuckles, ruffling your hair. “It’s fine, just some small cuts. But you really weren’t lying about your parents. Real piece of work.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are sitting on the couch, Sae letting you tend to his wounds. You have the first aid kit out, and the mess in the dining room is long gone, both you and Sae’s date night ruined because of it.

“Sorry about him. He’s… always been like that.”

There’s a sombre mood in the air, but Sae sighs and flicks you on the forehead. “It’s not your fault, don’t apologise.”

You smile at him, a quiet understanding falling into place. You don’t need to explain your father’s temper and Sae doesn’t need your apologies.

“For what it’s worth, thank you.”

Sae nods, though he feels there’s nothing to thank him for. It may have taken him a while, but he’s figuring this out slowly. If anything, he’s sorry it’s taking him so long. It’s just that since the longest time, there was only one person he’d thought of marrying and now… there’s you.

Your hand reaches out to his feet, dabbing alcohol lightly on the cuts, and Sae doesn’t even flinch. You slowly reach the cuts on his ankle until you freeze.

“It won’t hurt so don’t worry,” Sae tells you, as if you’re the one that needs consoling.

You furrow your brows, unsure, though you heed his words and dab on it lightly. There’s a big scar lining his ankles, and now that he’s changed out into his shorts, you see a similar one lining his knees. All on the right side.

“You can ask if you want to.”

Trust it to Sae to figure out what’s going on in your head.

“How did you get it?”

Sae smiles, but it’s filled with more melancholy than mirth. His eyes seem like they’re gazing into thin air. “Your father seems to use his own physicality when he’s unhappy with something,” Sae ponders, eyes focusing back on your face. “Mine tends to leave me alone. Until I leave him with no other choice but to hire other people to do the hurting.”

You listen to him as you tend to all the cuts, trying to be gentler with the red on his skin, burned slightly from the tea.

“I told you I wanted to do something else right?”

You nod.

“I was dead set on a soccer career instead of taking over the business.”

“You mean, like Rin is now?”

Sae nods. “Yep. Exactly like Rin. Taught that little guy everything he knew.” He chuckles a little, and you can see how fond he is of his little brother, even if he doesn’t express it all that much. “But once they found out both of us wanted nothing to do with their business, that’s when things got ugly. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say they have a certain vision that they wanted me to uphold, and this—” he gestures to the scars on his leg—“was a warning of what would happen to Rin if I refused.”

As an older sibling yourself, you guess you can understand why Sae quit. But going so far as to hurt your own children like that—both your father and his seem to be assholes in their own rights.

“Can you still play at all?” You ask, out of genuine curiosity.

Sae sighs, pondering. “Yeah, but I get tackled once and that’s probably it for me,” he says, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh. “Why? Wanna watch me play that bad?”

You grin. “Depends, is my dear husband gonna let me?”

Sae’s brows raise in surprise. “Oh, someone’s getting comfortable,” he points out, and you can’t stop grinning, earning a shake of his head. “Maybe next time, stupid. We still got dinner.”

“Okay since you’re hurt, I’m gonna cook, okay?”

“I got a few cuts, I’m not a cripple.”

“La la la can’t hear you,” you hum, winking at him before skipping over to the kitchen, intent on saving date night by at least cooking a decent dinner.

Back at the couch, Sae suppresses a smile as he looks at you, and he wonders what is it about you that he can’t shake off, that he can’t help but let in. He tilts his head in wonder; maybe it’s your adamant nature. In how you’re always nice no matter how much of an asshole he is.

After seeing what your father is like, he feels the guilt building up from the back of his head. If that’s what you had to endure everyday as a child, he doesn’t find your demeanour now to be all that weird.

Before he can even think of anything else, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Fuck, it’s Mirin. It’s Mirin who he’d promised to go find because whatever it is she’s going through, it sounds like a lot and she’s sobbing her guts out, apparently. And now he doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

“Do you want spicy or garlicky?”

It’s something so small, so tiny—just your voice from the kitchen, the clanging of pans as you hurry to cook a dish for him, and the fact that he knows you’d let him go if he told you he has somewhere to be.

Just like that, the answer isn’t so complicated anymore.

He rejects the call and opens up her message thread, typing in a won’t make it tonight, sorry before he switches off his phone.

“Mmm, garlicky,” he says the moment he reaches you, standing behind you as he watches you mix the sauce together.

You bring a spoonful up to your lips, tasting it. “Think it needs some salt, what about you?” You ask, offering him the small concoction in your saucer pan.

But Sae doesn’t take it, instead he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, his tongue savouring every single inch of you he can taste, his hand on your waist, pulling you close.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but stare at him blankly, in a daze because is this really happening? Sae can tell what’s going on in your head, but he throws you a bone by not teasing you about it.

“I think it’s perfect.”

By the next time you see Sumi in the office, she can sense the radiant glow from your face, hurriedly rushing over to your desk.

“Wow, I take it date night went well?”

You nod, not being able to contain your surprise. “Very well.”

Sumi asks for the details, and you divulge, since at this point, Sumi’s the one you trust the most. Even if she’s a little loud most of the time, you’re sure that you can call her a good friend.

“I’m so jealous, your marriage sounds like a dream,” she gushes while the two of you are having lunch.

You hesitate a little, the mention of it makes you think back to the Mirin issue. So far, you haven’t seen anything else that are any red flags, so at least that’s a step in the right direction… right?

“Uh oh, I know that look, tell me!”

So you give her the bare minimum, about how Sae had an ex-girlfriend who he seemingly can’t get over, about her calling him during the honeymoon and your little stalking spree. Sumi immediately does the same, typing in her phone before scrolling through her posts, unimpressed.

“She looks like she’s trouble,” Sumi remarks offhandedly, thumb pressing on the story that she apparently just uploaded five minutes ago and you completely freeze up. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Her story seems completely innocent until you realise you can tell exactly where she is: in your own house, at your own kitchen, taking a picture where Sae’s hand is barely visible, no doubt in a bid to make it seem mysterious.

“She’s in my fucking house.”

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog @astruoise @scaraslover @beaniedoodz @bersuadikotatua @idk-bro-gay @etoiile @sanzu-sanzu-sanzu @yourstrulyharu **bolded: means i can’t tag you guys because of your settings >_<

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tonyspank · 1 year

Text

CHAPTER ONE | THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY

Warnings; Uhhhh idk?

A/N: I never had to actually make coffee at my job, I kinda jus put the filter then dump out the coffee bag so… my apologies if it sounds crazy. (For all my professional coffee makers.)

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

"I have a medium lavender ice latte with oat milk for, Ana?" You call out to half full coffee shop. A blonde in about her twenties walks up to the counter, you smile before handing her her drink.

"Have a wonderful day," She grins, "Thank you so much, you too!" Your co-worker speaks up from behind you, "I still don't understand why you're not somewhere strumming your guitar."

You've been working at Hughes Coffee since you can remember, you just happened to be walking by the place and noticed the Now Hiring signs on the door, of course, you had to go through an interview process but you landed the job and became close with the owner and his daughter.

Once she had officially turned eighteen he changed the shop name in honour of her, and she absolutely loved it.

You playfully roll your eyes before turning around to fully face her, "Alora," You begin causing her to hum in response. "I literally have to stay here to keep you in check. Ever since Mr. Hughes changed the name to Alora's Coffee you've been acting a little bit stuck up." You joke, illustrating how much with your thumb and pointer finger.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," She points behind you, "Take care of that customer. I have to use the bathroom," You jump up in the straightest position ever, saluting to her. "Yes! General!"

She laughs, walking to the back. Turning around you're met with a familiar face, "Jack."

He smiles raising his arms, "Bestie!" You chuckle, smiling at your indeed best friend. "Hey, Jack. What's up?"

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. "Oh, nothing. Just checking in on you—" Suddenly he slams his hands on the counter, you jump and eye the shop as some customers as staring at the two of you.

"YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU WOULD GET AWAY WITH LEAVING WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE?" He practically yells, leaning into your face. You bite down on your lip, furrowing your eyebrows as you try and hold in your laugh.

"Uh? I thought I gave my goodbyes to my best messenger, did you not receive it?" Jack leans back, hands still on the counter. "Oh! You mean Jenna?" You nod your head, waving your pointer finger at him. "Yes, yes! Jenna, yup."

"And the same Jenna that couldn't stop talking about you." Your ears perk up at this, and your heart drops, but in a good way.

"Really?" You question, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Oh, yeah!" He continues. "She was like, she has the cutest laugh ever. She's so funny where'd you meet her at? Y/N this, Y/N that! Oh, Y/N! Blah, bleh, blah." He mocks with a high-pitched voice.

"Really?" This time you can't hide it, and you're smiling like an absolute idiot. "Really. I was going to give her your Instagram but you know, you left early. So insteadddd," He drags out, and you listen in.

"I told her that you're already dating someone, but don't worry! I didn't be specific and tell her that it was me." You blink, and when Jack doesn't say anything else, you blink again.

"You're lying, right?"

He thins out his lips, shaking his head. "No, why?" You go back to being nonchalant, not wanting Jack to have this over you.

One time you had liked this girl freshman year and Jack would not stop talking about it. And every time he'd see her he'd tell her why won't she go out with you, or how she should give you her number. The girl would always laugh and shrug her shoulders.

Or Jack would come up with these fake stories about how you saved an entire family from a burning building, or how you had found the cure to cancer, the girl surprisingly played along, and would say stuff along the lines of, "Oh, I remember that." Or, "Oh yeah! I was there too."

"No reason," You say shrugging your shoulders, Jack nods staring at you a bit longer to see if he broke your shell of nonchalantness, if that was a thing.

Accepting defeat, but not fully he sighs out. "Welp, I have to go now. I promised Mason I'd stop by his place to try out his new sugar cookie recipe."

You send him a thumbs up, "Alright! Have fun!" You shout out, as he walks out the double glass doors.

You turned around grabbed a rag, and wiped down counters. It was rather late in the morning so it wasn't so busy, well, it wasn't as busy as it was earlier this morning, you were dead-ass sweating.

It comes back to you that Alora never came back out, so you decide to head to the back and go inside the employee break room. You're met with Alora laying across two chairs eating a bag of chips.

"Is this what you do every time you say you're going to the bathroom?" She jumps in surprise, sitting up she removes her left airpod. "Hello, friend." She grins cheekily. You send her a wave.

"Don't you think you should go back to the front?" She starts shooing you off with her hand, you back up, but remain looking at her. "What about you?" She shushes, continuing her shooing motions."

You sigh out, leaning against the counter as you watch the customers in the store talk to their friends or type away on their computers.

You're so into the view you didn't hear the door open nor see the customer walk up towards the counter. Until you hear a ding noise come from the bell sitting on top of the counter.

"Shit," You mutter to yourself, you reach behind you, tying your apron tighter before walking over to the woman. "Fucking Jack," You slightly hear from her and it finally hits you once she takes off her glasses.

"That fucking sneaky bastard." You mumble to yourself.

"Hey, Jenna." You smile, Jenna smiles back placing her glasses in her purse. "Hey," She looks into your eyes, hating to admit she missed them, and so suddenly.

"Now I see why Jack told me to come here." You scratch your head, nodding. "He is a sneaky little bastard." She laughs at your words, "He actually called you the same thing when you left without saying goodbye, well technically you did, but.. I don't know." She catches herself rambling, making you smile.

"Did you want anything to drink?" You ask, drumming your fingers on the countertop. "It's on the house."

"Oh! Sure," Her eyes scan the menu, then you, specifically your name tag. You don't miss the smirk that slightly appears on her lips.

"Surprise me." Just as you're about to respond, Alora walks back out. "Good morning, how are you today?"

Jenna sends her a slight smile, "I'm great, thank you." She gives you one last look before going to sit down. Once it's clear that Jenna is no longer focused on you, Alora grabs your arm, her jaw-dropping. "Was that fucking Wednesday Addams?" You roll your eyes, moving to make Jenna's coffee."

You prepare one shot of Espresso Roast, and as you wait you pull out your phone, opening your messages with Jack.

i hate you

BESTIE

BESTIE DON'T SAY THAT?

i'm not the one who left w/o saying goodbye

I ASKED JENNA TO SAY GOODBYE?

whatever

don't you have to go like

impress her w your barista skills?

you're welcome by the way

goodbye jack

OH NOW U WANNA

SAY GOODBYE

You laugh before putting away your phone. And pouring your Espresso Roast into the mug.

"Her name is Jenna. But yes, she has played Wednesday Addams." Alora watches you, and her smile increases. "You know... I'm very happy that you work here."

You chuckle, preparing your froth milk. Using the Nespresso Aeroccino, you put the milk on the medium froth setting. And add in a bit of vanilla syrup, stirring it in the coffee. "You're only saying that because every now and then Jack will recommend your shop to one of his famous friends,"

She throws her hands up excitedly, "One of his very attractive famous friends!" You lean against the counter waiting for your milk. "Could you watch the counter while I talk to her?" Your voice is lower than usual.

"I fucking got you!" You can't help but laugh, taking your milk and gently pouring it inside the cup until it's almost full. Alora packages up a cookie before softly handing it to you.

"Go get her tiger," Rolling your eye playfully, you make your way toward Jenna, cookie and drink in hand. She sets down her phone and her face lights up seeing you make your way over to her booth.

"A blonde vanilla latte and a chocolate chip cookie for the one and only," You place her order in front of her, sitting down across the table.

She eyes you as she takes a sip, humming in joy. "Wow, this is good." She licks her lips, placing down the cup.

"So... Y/N," She begins. You fight back a smile, looking down at your name tag. "How long have you been addicted to cigarettes."

If you had something in your mouth you definitely would've spit it out. But instead, you're taken aback, "Uh? I don't know? A while,"

She hums, taking another sip of the drink you made her. "Not a lot of people know it but, I actually specialize in helping people with addictions."

You chuckle, "Really?"

"Of course, I'm a professional." You tap your fingers on the table. "So how do your services work exactly?"

"Usually I charge a hefty amount of money, but since we're such good friends. Money is not a problem, instead.." You raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

"Let's make a deal." You nod, telling her to go on. "You let me take you out on seven dates, if I don't manage to at least help you fight your addiction then you don't have to worry about seeing my face ever again. But if I do, then I get to take you out on more."

A huge smile has appeared on your face, "You're going to take me out? To help fight my addiction?" She nods, again sipping on her drink.

"Do we have a deal?" You hold out your hand, and she quickly shakes it.

"It's a deal Ortega," She smirks but doesn't hide it this time.

#reader insert #jenna x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega

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hypewinter · 1 year

Text

Can I offer you another Danny POV in these trying times?

It had started after his encounter with the costumed people. After that his dad had taken him to the store and bought a lot of strange items. From there, he put the strange items together and put them up all around the house. Ever since then, Danny couldn't go through the walls.

Danny pushed against the wall now but he couldn't go through just like all his other past attempts. But if he couldn't go through, how would he play tag with his dad!? Fat tears bubbled up in his eyes as he tried to desperately push through the wall. He liked playing with his dad! It was the best part of the day.

Tears began to fall freely down his cheeks and he let out a whimper as he tried phasing through the floor this time to no avail. Suddenly big hands scooped him up.

Jack tried to soothe his son but Danny was not listening to his assurances that "this was to protect him" and "it was for the best". He was too busy crying while glaring at the strange items covering it. If only they weren't there.

--------

Danny woke up to voices outside his room. One was his dad's but the other was female. He tensed up in fear, remembering the last female voice he encountered, but this one was different. It was younger and for some reason, hearing it filled him with warmth.

"Now's not the time for that Dad." The female voice said.

"No, I won't have my princess sacrificing her education." Replied his dad.

Danny wondered what they were talking about. He was also curious about who the owner of this new voice was. She had called his dad , her dad. Did that mean they were related. That would make them siblings right? He had a sister?

Suddenly a thought came from deep within his mind. Of course I have a sister, her name is Jazz. But his moment of clarity was gone just as soon as it had overtaken him. Danny was left wondering who is Jazz? as he drifted back to sleep.

--------

Jazz as it turned out was his red-headed sister. And although she always wore a smile around him, it was always tinted with sadness. Danny couldn't help but wonder why.

Everything was going great so there was no reason to be sad. Jazz had now moved in, all the neighbors were constantly cooing at him and giving him treats, and Jack had gotten a job with some red person. Wait, did he get hired by Little Red Riding Hood? Maybe she needed a new hunter to help her fight the wolf.

At that thought, Danny couldn't help but look at his father in awe. Every evening when he left, Danny silently hoped he'd catch a lot of bad wolves.

--------

It took a couple of weeks for Danny to find out that while his dad worked for a Red Hood, it was very disappointingly not Red Riding Hood. Instead it was some guy with a white streak in his hair with some very disgusting ectoplasm circulating his body.

Danny made a face and turned into his sister's hold as he came face to face with the guy at the doorway.

"I'm sorry about that." she said to the guy, "He's not usually like this."

"It's ok, babies usually cry in front of me so this is an improvement." he replied.

"Come on Matt, Jason's really nice if you give him a chance!" His father proclaimed. His trademark loudness making the doorframe shudder.

That was the other thing Danny didn't like about this red guy. He had already seen him twice before, when his Dad had taken him in to grab a few forgotten tools.

The first time the guy wore a red helmet. Everyone acted like he was dangerous and shouldn't be messed with. Even his dad was very respectful in his interactions with him.

The second time Danny had seen not Red Riding Hood, he didn't have his helmet on nor did he go by his previous name. Everyone at the garage treated him as if he was one of their own instead of the dominating presence he had been before. In fact, they acted as if "Jason" was a completely different person all together. It was quite strange to say the least. Though Danny wasn't sure he had a leg to stand on considering every time they were in public, his dad would call him "Matt".

Danny had fussed about it a few times but that didn't seem to have any effect. He had finally decided it was fine since he was at least still called "Danny" and "Danno" when they were home. Now though, thanks to this Jason guy, he was even being called that stupid name within his own house! Danny was quickly deciding he didn't like this weird bad ectoplasm guy at all.

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @overtherose @seraphinedemort

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #no tag ramble today folks!#currently in the process of getting everything ready to put on ao3 #so hopefully that's coming soon!#we'll see if my schedule likes me enough to cooperate

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lovebyvenus · 2 years

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🕯💌felt like writing about the venus signs today bbyss

Cancer Venus: religious love in the lana del rey type of way, cherries and that one wedding dress at the thrift store that someone loved intensely but you know it could only be worn once with the same meaning, keeping you from buying the it. You wonder why it ended up here, why it wasn’t passed from generation to generation. Cancer venus is about emotional devotion, falling in love with the divine. You’re my religion. Regret and lingering.

Virgo Venus : Physical servitude. Take my body, take my hands, it’s all yours. Wanting to climb mountains, wanting to materially do it all for them. The last plum hanging from the tree in October, the one that seems to be scared of hitting the ground and never feeling the same again. Lists and scratches, being obsessed by a mythical ideal you’ll never reach.

Scorpio Venus : Possession, wanting to kill the person you’re in love with. Limerence. Burning letters and burying affection deep within the folds of your chest. These old leather boots you find at the thrift store, only you know they won’t be as faithful to you as they were to the previous owner. I could never tell the difference between affection and hatred

Aquarius Venus : understanding the concepts of duality and completion better than others. Understanding that the loved one is not a prolongation of yourself. Running away together, faithfulness and ear kisses. Tattoos, escapism. Delayed affection and sudden boredom. How do I not lose my sense of identity in all this

Capricorn Venus : Leather, power play and temporal devotion. Vintage clothes at the thrift store that are perfectly preserved and still smell like cigarettes. Saturn making you go through hardships in love and you going through it all bravely, you’ve seen it all before anyways. The ability to foresee the better during stormy times. Every lover is a lesson i haven’t learned yet

Libra Venus : Angels. Love that sounds like an empty Opera. You wonder why Venus has gifted you with the ability to understand love as an absolute, in a deeper way than other placements yet, something is missing. Theoretical love. Vanity and jewelry boxes. Summer flings, having multiple suitors, misconducting each and every one of them. Love that feels like seasons passing, in love with Love and Venus. Mental stimulation, mind games, subtle flirt. Loving being loved. Would I fall for you if I didn’t see my reflection in your eyes ?

Gemini Venus : Hand kisses, rings, playlists. Writing the portrait of your lover, learning their mannerism. Boredom, bliss and ecstasy. That children book at the thrift store you had forgotten about. For a split second, you feel young again and hesitate purchasing it just for the reminiscence. Having multiple love interests, having a hard time keeping up with texting. Always being the one who leaves, people never understanding what kind of heartbreak it represents as well. It only takes an intonation, a subtle movement of the hand for me to become your lover.

Leo Venus : warmth, traveling west when the sun is setting down. Picture boxes, wearing your heart on your sleeve, spiritual devotion. Intention, impulse and high school crushes. Trust issues, insecurities. That one furry coat at the thrift store that seems to stand out, you wonder what kind of extra weirdo decided to stop wearing it. Cheerleaders and 60s heartthrobs. Rnb type of love, the one that is so sweet and warm, it almost a burns but you’re left delighted with the taste of candy. It’s harder to turn that love into self acceptance

Taurus Venus : Paul Anka, slow kisses and necklaces. Skin to skin contact, the same kind of devotion you would give to a growing plant in your room. Doe eyes, heart shaped boxes and slow burn love. Sunburns and freckles. Possessive thoughts, maturing together. Love ends with death or a heartbreak. Sometimes love is not a feeling but an action and you guys understand this a lot. Commitment, late supper in downtown restaurants. Feels like I was put on this earth to worship your body and you to adore mine.

Aries Venus : bites, blood and rage. Fist fighting all the rivals but in your head only. Freckles, sunrises when haven’t slept. A LOT of sexual drive, stamina, working their body on yours, short breaths. Possessiveness and being territorial. Shades of orange, pushing limits, ultraviolence. “Take a bow” from Muse. Rashes, blushing, frustration. Dating is like hunting, healthy competition and high school crushes. Love is the desire to experience everything together, to be witnesses of each other’s accomplishments.

Pisces Venus : Pain and pleasure kinkily mixing together. Satisfaction in being heartbroken, you really can feel that tiny sense of being alive during a heartbreak am i right ? BDSM. Churches, sleeping with your partner as an act of true love. Sharing dreams and nightmares. Connecting in other realms during sex. Pure devotion, melting in each other’s eyes. Prone to Illusions and Fantasies. Being in love with fictional characters. The complicated relationship between a knight and their queen/king. 60s dreamy music, makeup and interior design. Taking substances together, Sometimes I’m scared my affection towards your every move turns into an addiction.

Sagittarius Venus : open relationships, foreign partners, hookups, tinder. Walking barefoot in the parc with your lover. Mysticism, cults, frolic love. Date night at the library, I bet your first love was some kind of teacher. In love with higher education, freedom. Feeling overwhelmed or trapped all the time. Running away together, adrenaline, concerts, connecting through sharing theoretical ideas, conversing. Loving too much, being too generous, expansion.That Simone de Beauvoir and Sartre type of love. You can go anywhere, to anyone in this world and i will still know you’re mine in the end.

#astrology #venus #venus signs #scorpio venus #gemini venus #aries venus #zodiac #taurus venus #cancer venus #leo venus #virgo venus #libra venus #sagittarius venus #pisces venus #capricorn venus #aquarius venus #astronotes

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foli-vora · 1 year

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masterlist | foli jolly xmas list

my only wish: part two

jack daniels x single mum f!reader

summary: typical hallmark movie. he’s never been one for christmas - he hates the tacky decorations and the ear drilling music, but maybe the owner of a small town bakery and her children will change that.

warnings: this man. this man is a warning. this is soft. S O F T. i have heart eyes. swearing, more minecraft shit, almost kisses, yearning, the good stuff hits next chap (18+)

word count: 5866

a/n: gif by moi. so this is a combo of part 2 & 3 and it's fucking late because i'm so fucking busy and have fallen so fucking behind i want to cry. i will forever apologise for the utter shitstorm this month has turned out to be. catch me fighting off the burn out til at least mid january lmao. this made me so disgustingly soft. enjoy!

His first morning, after an admittedly restless sleep, he was wide awake and ready to go at 6am – his body clock just used to waking early to get a start on the working day. He takes a shower, has a coffee, wipes down the already clean counters and stares outside the kitchen window for an hour.

He flicks through the books left behind by previous tourists lining some of the shelves in vague interest, but none appeal enough to him to laze about on the couch as he had hoped. He flicks through the channels on the mounted TV, but finds nothing intriguing enough to watch. He moves for the porch swing, the icy air biting at his cheeks, and rocks in the creaky seat, trying desperately to just be.

It’s not too bad, he supposes. It’s a calm he doesn’t get to experience a lot, especially seeing as he constantly bounces between Kentucky and Manhattan. There’s not a whole lot of nature to soak up from his penthouse in the city, and he never bothers to hang around long at his ranch at home. When was the last time he put his riding boots on?

Back and forth.

No, it’s not bad at all. He’s been in much, much worse predicaments. Maybe it was a good thing to put his feet up after doing back to back missions for God knows how long. Lord knows his body needs a damn good rest, but how could he shut his mind off?

Back and forth.

It’s only for a few weeks, and then he’ll be able to dive right back into it. Maybe Champ will already have something lined up for him. Did Rum file those papers correctly? Has Cointreau taken over his Manhattan office for the time being? She’d better not kill his peace lily, she’s incapable of keeping a plant alive for longer than a week…

Back and forth.

“Fucking Christ,” he grits out to himself, deciding to give up on the swing and marching back indoors, wondering just how long it would be before he loses his entire fucking mind.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Was it always this hard? Any other normal person would delight in taking a vacation, would relish in having nothing to do but lounge around and soak up the peace and quiet. Why is it so damn hard for him?

He grabs his jacket and keys before locking up the cabin and heading into town, deciding to stroll the streets and window shop to fill some time, maybe even take a wander past the bakery. Purely for the treats and not the pretty thing he’d been pleasantly surprised with yesterday.

Didn’t even get a name, and he only realised when he got back to the comfort of his Bronco. He couldn’t just waltz back in there and ask like an idiot… maybe he could persuade the kid to give him some information. Should be easy enough to convince with a couple of dollars if the last two interactions with him were anything to go by.

He frowns out of the windshield as he drives, wondering if he’s really lost that much game he’s resorting to bribing a kid for things he could quite easily get the answers to himself. This wasn’t a job — a quick flirt and seduce for the sake of a mission… this could be a real thing, no matter how brief due to him not being in town for long.

He was coming here as Jack, not Agent Whiskey.

There’s a slight pressure there in the back of his mind that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

—

“He should come over for dinner,” Gabe mumbles around a mouthful of muffin, crumbs spilling from his lips and raining over his sweater. “I want him to meet Snickers.”

A few crumbs fall to the freshly cleaned floor beside you where you kneel on the cold tiles and you scowl lightly at them before returning your attention to the decorations in your hands, rifling through the tangled pile of lights and signs until you find what you’re looking for.

“We barely know the man,” you reply after a moment of fiddling, tearing through tape with your teeth and sticking your Merry Christmas banner to the front of the counter, taping around the edges to ensure it sticks. “We can’t just invite a stranger over, Gabe.”

No matter how pretty said stranger is. You’d be lying if you hadn’t had Jack lingering in the back of your mind since meeting him yesterday. He was quite a hard man to forget, what with his strong, handsome features and warm charismatic presence. Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks such—

“He’s very handsome,” Edith murmurs, smiling thankfully at Stacy as the young blonde places her usual tea and pastry in front of her. “Betty said he’s available, too.”

You chuckle quietly, turning your attention to Edith where her small, aged frame hunches slightly in her thick winter coat.

“You on the market, Edith?” You grin cheekily, giving her a little wink. “He looks like he’d be a good handful.”

“Oh, you never know, pet. I did just have my hip replaced.”

A snort tears its way from your throat before you laugh, your smile widening as her own chuckle fills the shop. Gabe’s eyes move between you both, a growing frown of confusion deepening between his brows.

“I don’t get it.”

“Never you mind, young man,” Edith smiles, sipping delicately at her tea.

“Mi amor, you wound me! I thought I was your only one!” Jose cries, walking out from the kitchen and sliding a fresh tray of various slices into the display case before waltzing over to her with a playful frown. “And now you leave me for some cowboy? My heart aches—”

“Oh you,” Edith murmurs warmly, melting into the embrace he gives her from behind her chair and patting the arm he has across her chest fondly. “You’ll always be my favourite.”

“That’s more like it,” he returns indulgently, planting a kiss on her temple before straightening up and returning to the kitchen. He pokes the side of your head as he passes, grinning at your swat of annoyance. “And you? He won’t be a stranger if you invite him over and get to know him.”

Gabe makes a garbled noise of agreement after shoving the remaining muffin into his mouth. “Exactly! He’ll always be a stranger if we don’t give him a chance, and h—Cowboy!”

You roll your eyes, on the brink of telling him not to be so loud in the shop when Jack’s sudden deep chuckle has you fumbling with the tape in your hands before it could drop to the floor from your surprise.

A quick glance over your shoulder confirms that he’s here in the flesh, stepping into the shop and sliding the yellow tinted glasses from his nose with a charming half grin tugging at his lips.

Speak of the devil himself.

“Glad to know you’ve dropped the ‘lame’ title for me, kid.”

“Mum said it was rude,” Gabe shrugs lightly.

At your mention, Jack’s attention falls on you and your reaction is immediate. It’s like that sweet high school crush all over again. Your heart quickens as a small thrill rolls through your body, humming along your nerves and causing the muscles of your stomach to tighten in delight.

He nods politely, the rim of his Stetson briefly ducking over his features, and you grin at the greeting, rising unsteadily from your spot and inconspicuously wiping your hands down the front of your apron to dampen the sting of sweat biting at your palms.

“Are you here for more gingerbread already? I haven’t made any new ones yet so you’ll have to wait til later,” Gabe says frankly, lips pressing into a line as he gazes up at him.

“Now that’s a real shame,” Jack drawls, a frown pulling at his features as his arms cross over his chest. “I was lookin’ forward to one of them fancy diamond fellas of yours.”

Gabe suddenly brightens, seemingly struck with quite an idea, and you feel the trickling of dread begin to grow along your shoulders. It’s never good when he gets that shine in his eyes… God, what is he up to now?

“We could make them together! It would be so much fun with all of us! Can’t we, mum?”

Where is he going with this? Of course you could, but would Jack even want to? He could just be playing nice after all, and now Gabe’s practically cornering him into something he doesn’t want to do. Would Jack be too polite to decline? Maybe you should swoop in before he gets too uncomfortable.

You shift slightly, eyes quickly darting to Jack. “I mean… yeah, but I don’t thi—”

Gabe grins, “Cool! Come over tonight, okay Cowboy? You can meet Lou and Snickers! Do you promise? Promise me!”

“Whoa hey, slow down, kid,” Jack grins, holding his hand out in a calming manner. “That’s not your decision to make. You gotta talk these things through with your mama before you go makin’ plans.”

“Mum,” Gabe whines, whirling on the spot. “He has to come over tonight. You were just talking about having him over for dinner—”

“Is that so?” Jack swoops in, dark eyes rolling to yours and shining with interest.

Heat grows along your cheeks as your mouth suddenly dries up, your mind whirling and whirling yet giving you fucking nothing in terms of words. Though it’s only a moment, it feels like hours until you finally manage to speak, clearing your throat of the feeling of shy discomfort and giving a small shrug.

“I was just saying we can’t invite a stranger over,” you explain dumbly, inwardly wincing.

He cocks his head, a playfully charming smile tugging gently at his lips and you feel the effect of his eyes settle low in your stomach.

“How do you make friends without givin’ a stranger a chance, sugar?”

His tone curling the pet name on his tongue brings your heart to an unsteady beat, blood rushing along under your skin as your smile briefly widens.

“You make a good point, cowboy,” you reply softly.

“That’s what I said!” Gabe agrees loudly, suddenly snapping you out of the apparent daze Jack had all but forced upon you.

You become very aware of Edith glancing at the three of you from her table, an amused smile playing along her lips as she sips at her tea. Jose is unusually quiet in the kitchen — no doubt eavesdropping, and Stacy seems to be wiping over the same spotless mark on the display case, trying her hardest to not make it look like she’d been lingering to purely listen in.

How had you not noticed them all? They were hardly discreet.

It’s his damn smile.

Jack, unbothered by the interruption, grins widely at Gabe, raising a hand to ruffle the thick knitted beanie forced over his hair. “You got a good head on your shoulders, kid.”

You catch Edith’s eyes over Jack’s shoulder and she gives you a nod of encouragement, throwing in an impatient point to the cowboy for good measure.

“Did—did you want to?” You ask, hoping your nerves didn’t shine through your tone. “Come over for dinner, that is. We could decorate cookies after…”

“Yeah,” Jack answers after a moment of studying your features, his smile softening briefly when he finds whatever he’s looking for. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Relief washes through you, followed steadily by a wave of anticipation and sweet excitement. You’re positive everyone can hear your heartbeat. It drums loudly in your ears, quickening when Jack sweeps forward to pluck the pen from where it hangs off the top of your dusted apron.

He bends briefly to jot something down on the back of a business card he’d pulled from the little holder in front of the till before straightening, smoothly slipping the card into your apron pocket.

“Let me know where and what time, and I’ll be there. See you later, kid — be good, y’hear?”

“Bye cowboy!” Gabe hollers after him, grinning and waving when Jack turns to give him a nod of goodbye.

“Holy shit,” you breathe when he’s finally out of sight, hand flying to rest over where you feel the business card tucked into your pocket and feeling the sharp edges of it through the thick fabric with a wash of warmth rolling through your body.

—

He still doesn’t have a fucking name.

His steering wheel had taken the brunt of his irritated palms during his drive back to the cabin and his brows had been furrowed over his eyes for the entire journey. He’d been so confident, so set on finding out your name the moment his gaze landed on your familiar shop front.

Well that went to fucking shit, didn’t it?

The second your pretty little eyes found his, he couldn’t remember a goddamn thing. Not a goddamn fucking thing. He’d been struck off balance, practically clawing to keep his cool calm. Hell, he couldn’t even say hello — he’d had to settle for a nod because his throat was so damn dry.

Thank god the kid had been there or he’d have made a right ass out of himself. How does one get a date before a name?

And he damn well couldn’t ask for it after receiving a text from you, noting your address and a time you’d be home after closing up. He couldn’t even label your fucking contact details in his phone.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” he’d growled to his reflection in the mirror while he was getting ready, his fingers smoothing his damp moustache down as leftover steam from his shower swirls towards the ceiling. “Get your fuckin’ act together.”

He’d come too far.

Now he needed to bribe the kid.

The drive to your house is mostly spent giving himself an internal pep talk, all of which seems to be forgotten the moment he rolls to a stop alongside the curb.

It’s a dark-bricked two storey with stark white lined windows and smaller in size than the others that line the roads heading towards the town centre, but not at all lacking in its own special charm, set amongst some trees with a paved path lining the way to the small, welcoming porch.

He knows he has the right place by the familiar face squished against one of the upper floor windows, and he gives Gabe a wave as he walks towards the steps, chuckling quietly to himself when he vaguely catches the kid yell his arrival from inside.

His knuckles rap softly against the light teal door, and he takes that brief moment to collect himself with a steadying breath while shaking the tension from his shoulders, before the door suddenly swings in, revealing your frame in the vacant space. His fingers tighten around the small bouquet of flowers held loosely by his side, suddenly struck dumb by you once again.

“Hey darlin’,” he greets softly, his smile automatic as your own spreads across your lips.

“Hi Jack,” you murmur, delighting in the buzz that runs along your nerves.

He raises the flowers, pride rolling over his shoulders when you blink in surprise before giving him the sweetest fucking smile he’s ever seen. God help him.

“These are for y—”

“Cowboy!”

The door is shoved open further by a new body, and Gabe grins up at him, tugging along another little body behind him. The girl stays half hidden behind her brother, her shy smile mirroring her mothers as she blinks up at him from around Gabe’s shoulder.

“Hey kid,” Jack greets fondly before leaning to take a better look at the girl, smiling when she ducks to hide further behind her brother, “hey sweetheart.”

“This is Louisa,” Gabe explains the second your lips part to form her name.

He takes a small step to the side, encouraging her to say hello with a comforting half embrace but she stays silent, hiding her face into Gabe’s sleeve and chewing on the nail of her index finger. He remains unphased and shrugs, tightening his arm around her and returning his attention to Jack.

“She’s a bit shy, but she’s cool.”

“Alright guys, let’s move out of the way before he freezes on our doorstep.”

You herd the kids out of the way and he steps in with a murmur of thanks, relishing in the warmth that fills the small home as you close out the cold behind him. He offers the bouquet of flowers to Louisa as she clutches at your leg, grinning when she carefully reaches for them. Gabe jumps to help him take his jacket off, as well as his hat, straining on tip toes to hang it neatly on the coat rack beside the door.

“Come on through, Jack,” you murmur, smiling at him over your shoulder as you walk deeper into your home, Louisa in tow, and he feels his heart jump in his chest. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Gabe goes to follow but Jack holds him back with his fingers pinching the collar of his t-shirt, waiting for a moment until you’re out of ear shot before bending at the waist and flashing the ten dollars he’d had ready in the front pocket of his jeans.

“You wanna make a deal?”

Gabe eyes the money and grins, “Sure.”

“I’ll give you this for your mama's name.”

—

“You really don’t have to do this, Jack.”

He gives a low rumble of a chuckle, turning to shoot you a brief grin as he passes you a wet plate. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, his hands turning slightly pink from the high heat of the soapy water filling the sink. He bumps softly into your shoulder, returning his attention to washing the small stack of dishes piled next to him.

It’s domestic, cosy.

“After that meal? Darlin’, it’s the least I can do.”

Dinner had gone down without a hitch, full of endless questions on Gabe’s part and a comfortable conversation with you when the kid had been too busy shovelling food into his mouth. Gabe had disappeared briefly and come back with his most treasured friend for introductions — Snickers, a soft tri-color Holland lop that stayed snuggled into his arms during the rest of the meal despite your disapproval.

Jack was at peace for the first time since he walked out the Statesman doors.

He tries not to enjoy it too much. His time in town is brief, after all.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you murmur softly, relishing in his sincere appreciation, “I’m actually not much of a cook.”

“Now, I refuse to believe that—”

“No, it’s true,” you grin, sharing a quiet laugh with him, “I can’t cook very well, but I can bake.”

“Yes, you can,” Jack agrees immediately, glancing over his shoulder to where the batch of gingerbread shapes sit on the counter before looking back at you. “I’ve never been one for gingerbread, and now it’s all I’m thinkin’ about.”

Maybe not all he’s thinking about.

He swallows, dragging his eyes away from the sweet curl of your lips.

“Well, in that case—” you spin and throw the towel playfully at his chest, “—let’s stop wasting time with the dishes.”

His eyes follow you as you move away, preparing somewhat of a decorating station over the clean kitchen counter, and he only becomes aware of the dazed little smile tugging at his lips when his cheeks start to ache from the pull of it.

He steps up next to you at your request, grinning at the cries of excitement from the other room when you call out for the kids. They settle on the two stools and take their pick of shapes from the tray you hold out to them, chattering about the various sprinkles and colours of icing you bring out already prepared.

Gabe quietly coaches Louisa along with decorations before glancing at you, his brows rising.

“You’re forgetting something, mum.”

“Oh, shit.”

Gabe grins as you grab your phone and mess with a little bluetooth speaker before the familiar notes of a certain song that is overplayed way too fucking much during this time of the year starts to fall from the speakers. Jack can’t help the little scrunch of his nose and you notice it with an amused tilt of your head.

“Don’t like this song?”

“I don’t like any Christmas songs,” Jack admits, accepting the little bowl of candy cane sprinkles Lousia shyly holds out to him with a tender smile.

“Oh no,” you murmur, catching Gabe’s attention as he turns to look up at you in question. “I think our new friend is a grinch.”

“What?!” Gabe abandons his decorating in favour of frowning up at the cowboy. “Do you hate Christmas? Why? Were you naughty?”

Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ve just never really celebrated it, kid. It doesn’t interest me.”

“That’s fair, but I’m sorry cowboy,” you coo, leaning against the counter and giving him a coy smile, “when we make our gingerbread cookies—the Christmas playlist comes on.”

He decides he’s more than okay with it if he gets to spend a bit more time in your presence, and, all things considered, it’s not that bad. The music brings out a sweet giddiness in both you and the kids, and it only deepens the smile stretched out along his lips as he swims in the comfortable atmosphere falling over the kitchen.

“I have never used one of these in my life,” Jack notes dryly, holding the piping bag in his hand and frowning at the tip of it.

He glances at the way you work your own, looking so effortless in the way you ice intricate patterns over the cookies while softly swaying to the music. You side eye him with a grin, finishing off a swirl with a smooth flourish and raising a brow at him in a silent challenge.

Looks easy enough…

It’s not.

He makes a low noise of distaste at his shaky attempts, discovering the piping bag is not as innocent as it looks. Laughter melts into his ears and he throws you a playful frown, nudging your arm softly with his elbow.

“Are you laughin’ at me?”

“What? I would never,” you return cheekily, stepping closer until your front brushes against his arm.

Your hands cover his, the warmth of your palms oozing into his skin and he’s only vaguely aware of the instruction you quietly murmur into his ear. How could he focus on anything else with you so damn close? He ignores the pattern you help him ice over the cookie, too busy studying the way the kitchen light reflects in your eyes and the way your lashes brush against your skin.

You become hyper aware of his gaze burning into the side of your face and your body reacts automatically, your heart picking up in your chest and thudding heavily against your ribs. You sneak a glance at him, suddenly caught in the pools of warm brown focusing solely on you, and your breath catches in your throat.

It lasts only a minute, the chatter of Gabe and Lou obliviously decorating their cookies in the background keeping you both from falling any deeper into the temptation building along your nerves to close in on those last few inches.

Jack’s the first to look away and break the spell, his eyes falling down to the counter, before he gives you a final glance from his peripheral. You spy the smile tugging at his lips and your chest tightens, lost to the feeling of blood rushing to fill your cheeks.

Could he hear your heartbeat? God, you hope not.

The curl of anticipation never fades from the pit of your stomach as the night rolls on, stretching out over your system whenever you’d catch his gaze or feel the brush of his body against yours. It becomes harder and harder to deny the level of attraction you have for him, despite only meeting him yesterday.

And he’s wonderful with the kids… a fact that does nothing to temper the lure you feel for him.

He listens attentively to every word Gabe says when he goes on a ramble about his new world and how creepers keep blowing up his house, despite quite clearly not knowing what the hell he’s talking about. He’s delicately soft with Louisa, never pushing her to talk and simply content to watch her work, interacting with a kind smile whenever she’d ask for his help or thoughts.

She’s completely smitten by the end of the night, and you don’t blame her.

She gives him a small tired wave from where she snuggles into the couch under a blanket with Gabe who’s long passed out, head thrown back against a pillow and snores falling from his open mouth. You follow Jack out once he returns Louisa’s goodbye, cringing at the icy temperature when you step onto the darkened porch behind him.

“You’ve got a couple of great kids,” Jack murmurs, turning to you.

You grin in return, glancing over your shoulder to the warmth of your home where they rest before meeting his gaze and giving a little shrug.

“I know.”

He chuckles deeply and the low timbre of it shoots straight to the pit of your stomach, the feeling only worsening when he takes a step closer and leans in to press a soft kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your lips. He lingers for a brief moment, his moustache tickling your skin as his nose brushes your cheek and it sends your heart into a frenzy.

You can’t help but turn into it, the movement bringing his lips within breathing distance, much much closer than before. His breath is warm over your lips, heavy with the hot chocolate you’d made after the cookies, and you feel your heart beating in your ears as the tip of his nose briefly catches yours.

“Thank you for havin’ me, sugar.”

“You’re welcome any time, cowboy.”

“Careful now,” Jack drawls quietly, tongue slipping along his lower lip as his eyes shine mischievously, “I might take you up on that offer quicker than you think.”

“I sure hope so,” you smile, watching fondly as he finally steps away from you and raises a hand to place the weathered Stetson atop his head.

You’re in trouble. You can feel it in your very core. You can feel it in the way your cheeks refuse to let go of the smile stretched across your lips. Despite spending the entire evening in his company, you ache with the question of when you’ll be able to see him like this again, his brief time in town only fuelling this need, and it prompts you to speak up before he goes too far.

“Jack?” You call as he slowly swaggers down the porch steps.

He stops instantly, turning to face you with a curious brow raised.

“If you want to take me up on that offer, we’re putting our Christmas lights up tomorrow… we could do with an extra hand if you’re available. Unless Scrooge has to work…” you trail off teasingly, grinning at his chuckle.

“I’ll be here, darlin’.”

—

It’s different, and very much unlike you.

Inviting a stranger over for dinner? Inviting him back to help decorate your home? It’d all felt so natural the day you spent clipping rows after rows of small, twinkling colourful lights along the eaves and windows, sharing conversation and jokes until the sun melted behind the mountains.

The feel of his hands steadying you on your trusty little step ladder had burnt you, even through the thickness of your coat. The way his eyes had reflected the wild flash of colour from the lights had settled something soft and tender in the pit of your stomach, pleased that he seemed to be enjoying himself in your company, even doing something as mundane as tacking lights everywhere.

His farewell was much like the night before, leaving such a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips and lingering right there until you thought for sure he was going to kiss you, only to step away with that dazzling little grin and sauntering away with a raspy goodnight.

You’d stared at your ceiling longer than you cared to admit once he left, lost in the thoughts of his lips, his hands, the way he’d feel.

He quickly lost his title of stranger, becoming something of a fast friend the more he spent time with you. The feelings that bubbled to the surface and swam merry little circles around your heart came so naturally in his presence. You desperately try to ignore the way they strengthen with each shared glance and charming smile, convinced it’s just the thrill of a new crush and nothing more.

It couldn’t be anything more. Though he didn’t tell you a whole lot about his work, he did tell you he was never in one spot for too long. He bounced between Kentucky and New York, often going overseas and all over, and it didn’t give him the opportunity of settling, or even dating.

He had said it with a tone of apology, as if he was giving you the option of walking away before you stepped any further after knowing it could be nothing like you were potentially dreaming. You’d enjoy it while it lasted, you decided. It didn’t have to be anything serious, or even romantic, just a sweet memory to treasure when he eventually drives out of town.

“That one is huge!” Gabe cries, running to a monstrous 11ft thing towering over the other trees and fluffing its lower branches. “We have to get this one.”

“And put it where, Gabriel?” You question in amusement, rolling your gaze from the thick width of the tree to the tip top of it. “We wouldn’t even be able to get this through our front door, let alone stand it up inside.”

He gives a dismissive shrug, “We can make it work. Can’t we, Jack?”

Jack chuckles next to you, walking over to Gabe and resting a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re askin’ a bit much of your door, kid. How about we find somethin’ more… compact?”

Gabe sighs, but eventually yields, giving one last look of longing to the monster before snatching Louisa’s hand and dragging her to other potential trees. You watch them dart between trunks with a small smile, your insides turning to fire when you feel a hand press into the small of your back to guide you between two close set trees.

“I’m sorry Gabe roped you into today,” you murmur as you step past Jack, your heart thudding when you feel his hand linger before sliding away. “I know Christmas isn’t your thing – this must be very painful.”

The night Jack had helped you with the lights, Gabe had asked — begged — him to come Christmas tree shopping with you, and had asked him every day leading up to the day a week later. Jack had given in early in the week, but Gabe had still asked every time Jack wandered into the shop for a treat to ensure his newest friend would help him pick the ‘coolest and bestest tree ever’.

Jack laughs, reaching out to feel the needles on a passing tree and giving you a grin. “Don’t be, sugar. I’m havin’ a great time. I’ve got good company.”

He gives your shoulder a playful little bump with his own and fire spreads across your chest, curling around your heart and filling the tips of your ears. Instead of stepping away, he stays close, keeping his side constantly brushing against yours as you both leisurely follow after the kids and your heart starts to hammer.

“I could say the same,” you grin, shooting him a look from the side, “you’re not too bad for a grinch.”

“Hey now,” he drawls with a smile, “there’s still time for me to go ‘round town stealin’ Christmas.”

You’d let him if he kept smiling at you like this.

“I’ll make sure I keep an eye out for you on Christmas Eve.”

“Speakin’ of Christma Eve,” Jack murmurs, fighting the feel of something curling around his throat, “what’s this Christmas Ball thing I’ve been hearin’ about?”

“It’s hardly a ball,” you grin, trying to not let the brush of his body send your heart into too much of a frenzy, “that makes it sound a lot fancier than what it is. It’s just a Christmas Eve party at the hall — they’ve had it for years. It’s gotten bigger over time, what with more and more tourists coming into town.”

Jack nods along to your words, wondering when the hell he started getting so goddamn nervous to even speak. He swears his heart is beating in his throat. It’s not him, it's you. It’s you doing this to him, catching him off guard with those pretty eyes and making him feel like he was a clueless boy head over heels all over again.

What in the hell are you doing to him?

Your voice breaks through his reverie.

“Will we see you there?”

His eyes flash up to meet yours, once again struck dumb by your smile. He gives a nod, barely able to catch his breath before your lips widen into something much more pleased and it rockets through his system. Originally he wasn’t going to, but the idea of going with you seemed much more appealing that staying in the cabin and nursing the bottle of whiskey for the night, waiting for the holiday to be over.

It’s just too bad he can’t get his damn mouth to form the fucking words to ask. Speak, man—

“Darlin’, I was wonderin’—”

“We found it!”

You both startle at the cry of victory that comes from in front of you, cutting through the moment of potential. Gabe has his hands clenched and arms high in the air while Louisa gives an excited little hop beside him, her face split from the grin stretched across her lips. Jack sighs quietly, weak to fight the smile that pulls at his cheeks at the kids’ excitement.

“Hold on a second,” you call back, turning those sweet eyes back onto him. “What were you saying, Jack?”

His eyes flick over your face, his throat bobbing with a swallow as he studies your features.

Maybe it’s best to leave it as it is. He already knows you’ll be attending, so what’s the point in asking you to go with him? He can just catch up with you there. Not to mention you probably had things to do with the kids, with your fellow townsfolk… no. He’ll leave it be. Besides, it’s not like he’ll be in town for much longer.

“It’s nothin’, sugar,” he finally replies, lips set in their charming curl. “Come on now, let’s go get this tree before this kid finds an axe and does it himself.”

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide

whiskey/jack tags: @pedrohoe04, @stardust-galaxies, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @dins-cyare, @eatommo, @serini-ty, @bbyanarchist, @raphaelaisabella, @breakfastonpluto19, @churchofrain, @joelmiller81, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @shadowolf993

so many aren’t working lately, sorry x

#folijollyxmas #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal x reader

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 6 months

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Haunting chapter 1

Note: it's spooky time! this fic is strongly inspired by the book True Haunting (a true story and a must read if you're into ghost stories!). this was supposed to be a one shot, but the fic was becoming way too long, so I had to split it up.

Warnings: angst/horror/paranormal stuff.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You and Sihtric finally bought a house, but at what cost?

wordcount: 4k

Masterlist

'Something is wrong with this house!'

'I still can't believe it,' you wiped a tear as you looked at your new home, while the movers were busy moving the furniture inside.

'I know,' Sihtric smiled proudly, and pulled you in his arms, 'we did it, babe,' he kissed your forehead, 'we finally bought a house.'

'I justl can't believe it,' you chuckled, 'I mean, the fact that a detached house was so… so cheap?'

'Yeah, it surprised me too. Apparently it's been on the market for a long time, the previous owners just really wanted to get rid of it.'

'I wonder why,' you scoffed and looked around, 'I mean, look at this place! It's a dream. It's in a quiet neighbourhood, the backyard is huge and it's located perfectly between the centre and the forest. Why on earth would anyone want to leave this place?'

'I don't know, honey,' Sihtric shrugged, 'but I'm glad they did, because it's ours now.'

Sihtric picked you up and threw you over his shoulder as you yelped, and he carried you inside, where you both started unpacking boxes right away, to make your dream home a reality.

For years you have been trying to buy a house together, but the prices were just absurd, and even when you both worked full time you couldn't afford a house. Until Sihtric saw an ad in the local newspaper, and he called the number immediately.

The real estate agent told Sihtric on the phone that he could pick up the keys at their office, and he was free to go and look around the house on his own. And so your husband of five years did, alone. He didn't want to give you any false hope, as previous houses you both had viewed always got sold to a couple who could afford to overbid, and Sihtric had seen the disappointment in your eyes each time. And he hated it. So, when you thought he was going to work one afternoon, he went to pick up the keys and drove to the house.

It was a huge, completely detached two story house, with a small, windowless attic on the seemingly hidden third floor. The porch looked cosy and was surrounded by an impressive front yard, and when you walked around the house you ended up in a huge backyard. The lawn was so big, Sihtric already felt tired when he thought about all the work it needed. But he didn't care about that then, you both just really wanted to buy a house and finally move out of that horrible apartment building you rented a small studio at. You both wanted to start a family and it had been on hold, all because you just couldn't get a place that would be big enough for two adults and a child. And this house was big enough for two adults and four children, which is exactly what your husband wanted, a big family eventually.

Sihtric walked up the porch and put the key in the lock, but the door wouldn't open. He frowned and worried that maybe the real estate agent had given him the wrong key. Which didn't make much sense, Sihtric thought, because the key did fit in the lock, it just wouldn't fully turn. After a few tries he decided to walk around the house and ended up in the backyard, where he saw a back porch, and went to try that door. At first he had the same issue, but after the third try the door suddenly flung open and Sihtric almost fell inside the house, in the kitchen. He chuckled and inspected the lock, but saw nothing weird. He figured maybe the front door had an extra lock, and he'd check it out later.

He walked through the large kitchen. Clearly the previous owners had moved out a while ago, as it was covered with quite the layer of dust, and thick cobwebs hung from the ceiling and lamps. To Sihtric's surprise, the kitchen had almost all the things one would need to live there. Cabinets full of plates and cups, as well as cutlery, all in good condition but a little dusty. He found a stack of towels, a bunch of pots and pans and even a drawer full of tablecloths.

'Odd,' Sihtric mumbled, and he was startled when the backdoor suddenly slammed shut.

Sihtric cursed loudly but then laughed at the scare.

'Close the door, Sihtric!' your mother would say, he thought with a smile, which faded quickly as his sudden memory continued, 'or it will slam shut and wake up your father, and you know what he's like…'

Sihtric cleared his throat and shook the random negative childhood memory. He shivered as he started to feel a little cold, and then continued his viewing. From the kitchen, he walked straight into the living room, which was also filled with furniture, dust, and cobwebs. The couch could be replaced and the tv cabinet was a bit old, but the chairs and carpet all looked decent. Sihtric smiled, everything seemed perfect so far. Except that it was quite chilly inside, while it was the middle of summer, and outside it was incredibly hot. In the summer the temperature inside was fine, but Sihtric worried about how cold it would be inside during the winter. But that again was a worry for later, just like the work that the backyard would need.

He walked out of the living room into the hallway, which looked almost royal with its high ceiling and large wooden stairs, which were also covered with dust and cobwebs. As Sihtric checked the locks as he passed the front door, and to his surprise he found out there was nothing wrong with the door as he opened it without trouble from the inside.

'Odd,' Sihtric said again, and closed the door, continuing his way to the second floor.

The wooden stairs creaked with each step Sihtric took, and he thought maybe he'd fall through, but that didn't happen. He noticed the second floor was even colder and he took a quick look in all the bedrooms, which were, not surprisingly, also covered with dust and cobwebs. Everything was once again complete with furniture. Each room had a bed, a closet, a drawer and some rooms even had a desk. The master bedroom came with a huge king size bed, but Sihtric shuddered at the thought of what kind of nasty things the previous owners had done on that mattress, so he would definitely replace that with the bed you owned now. Strangely enough, the master bedroom was also the coldest room in the house. Even though the sun was shining directly inside through the large windows, Sihtric could still see his own breath and he had goosebumps all over his body.

He took a quick look in the spacious bathroom, which came with an old but decent bathtub, and Sihtric decided he had seen enough already. He would check the attic once the house was sold to him, and he made an offer right away when he returned the key at the real estate office.

'You really want the place?' the agent asked, 'like… for real?'

'Yeah?' Sihtric frowned, 'sure, it needs some cleaning, but for that price? Bring it on.'

'Well,' the agent chuckled and mumbled, 'it's your life, not mine.'

And next thing he knew, Sihtric signed some papers and got to keep the key to the house. He surprised you with the news later that day, after dinner, and he drove you to see the house that same evening.

You both agreed it needed work, but it had been a bargain, and you were simply over the moon.

It took a few weeks to get the place all cleaned up, but once done, it looked amazing. You both had a couple of weeks off when you just moved in, but now, Sihtric had to go back to work again, while you worked from home. And you simply couldn't wait to use the brand new bedroom turned home office.

And it was only when you could finally work in silence that you realised the mark your previous apartment had left. You often thought you heard stomping footsteps and muffled voices, but it had to be your imagination, as you'd hear sounds like that the entire day and night in your old home. You simply ignored whatever you thought you heard, and continued your work.

Everything went pretty normal in the following weeks. You and Sihtric were at peace. You both slept well at night after years of being kept awake by noisy neighbours, and you figured the bad luck you two had was finally turning around, for now...

'Have you seen my phone, hon?' Sihtric asked as he was running late for work one morning, 'I swore I put it on the cabinet in the hallway, but it's not there.'

'Oh?' you frowned and searched the kitchen alongside your husband, 'hm, no, baby,' you sighed, 'I haven't seen it anywhere. Did you leave it upstairs?'

'I already looked there.'

'Couch?'

'Already looked,' Sihtric groaned as he emptied another drawer, without any phone appearing, 'fuck,' he hissed, 'well, no phone then. I really gotta run, love,' he said and pecked your lips, 'love you, see you tonight.'

And with those words he ran out of the kitchen and slammed the front door shut behind him. After a few minutes you felt bothered by the fact that he couldn't find his phone, so you continued the search. There was no bother trying to call his number, because his phone was always on silent. You decided to look upstairs, and as you walked through the hallway, you found his phone on the cabinet.

'Men,' you snorted, and you took a photo of your husband's phone which was in plain sight, on the cabinet in the hallway, just where he said he had left it.

You texted the photo to Finan, a friend and colleague of Sihtric, knowing he'd show the photo to him at work.

You: tell my husband he's getting old ;)

Finan: Sihtric asked if this is a prank

You: what? No, I swear. His phone was right there when I passed the cabinet…

Finan: he doesn't believe you

'Babe, I checked that cabinet like ten times,' Sihtric said during dinner that night.

'Siht, you don't actually think I hid your phone and let you leave the house without it?' you scoffed, 'you know how anxious I get when I can't reach you.'

Sihtric huffed, he knew you were right, but he just didn't understand how he hadn't seen his phone that morning.

'I don't know,' he said, 'I just can't explain it.'

'Well, I didn't touch it, okay?'

After a while of slight arguing, you both decided to drop the subject and cleaned up the kitchen together. And as you did the dishes, Sihtric snuck up behind you and circled his arms around your waist. He squeezed you in his arms and kissed your cheek.

'Want to take a bath together?' he asked, his smooth voice still making your legs go weak after all those years.

You nodded with a cheeky grin and your husband was quick to slap your ass, before he ran off into the hallway and up the stairs. Sihtric filled the bathtub with pleasantly hot water, and threw in a multicoloured bath bomb before he switched off the tap. As he walked past the stairs, to the bedroom to grab some towels, he yelled that the bath was ready.

You quickly switched off all the lights downstairs and sprinted up the stairs. You were eager to have some romantic time with your husband, as that's the only thing that has been lacking since you had moved. You met Sihtric as he walked back to the bathroom, and you playfully shoved him to the side to get into the bathtub first. But when you were ready to take off your clothes and stared into the bathtub, you frowned and turned to your husband.

'Is this a joke?' you clicked your tongue, 'because it's not funny. I heard the water running, so you just wasted a shit ton of water, and apparently a bath bomb too,' you said, confused.

'What?' Sihtric asked, equally confused, and he looked in the bathtub, which was completely empty, except for the colours the bath bomb had left.

'Sihtric, we already don't have that much money left each month, don't waste water like this…'

'What the fuck?' he muttered, 'n-no, I filled it. It was completely filled up. Here!' he said and dropped the towels on the floor, 'see, you can still see the faint line of where the water was because of the bath bomb!' he pointed near the edge of the bathtub, and you couldn't disagree with him.

'Did the plug come out then?' you wondered out loud.

'I guess,' Sihtric scoffed, 'but… there's no way the water could have been drained this fast. I only left the bathroom for like twenty seconds.'

'Are you sure you plugged it?'

'Yes!' Sihtric hissed, 'I'm not an idiot!'

'Well, your phone-'

'It wasn't there when I checked!' he snarled, then sighed and raked his fingers through his curls, 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I'm sorry, honey. It's just been a weird day, I don't mean to take it out on you. I'm sorry.'

'Yeah,' you mumbled, 'let's just… let's just go to bed, Siht,' you turned and walked out of the bathroom, 'I'm not in the mood anymore.'

The next morning Sihtric's phone was missing again, and he searched the entire house. Once he finally found it, in the fridge with a dead battery, he cursed loudly and went on to make breakfast. He switched on the stove and sat down at the table, annoyed. As you were still asleep, he wanted to leave a note that his phone was broken, and he went into the living room to grab a pen and some paper. When Sihtric returned, he noticed the stove was off.

'This better not be broken,' he muttered and switched it on again.

He sat down to write you a note, but the pen didn't work, so he left the kitchen again to get a new one. And when he returned, the stove was once again switched off.

'What is this bullshit?' Sihtric mumbled.

He switched the stove on again and kept his eyes on it. For five minutes he stood there, arms crossed and jaw clenched, watching a perfectly fine working stove. Then he returned to writing his note, went back into the living room to put the pen back in the drawer, and when he came back the stove was again switched off. Sihtric cursed and left the kitchen, thinking he was going insane. He went upstairs and kissed you goodbye, then left for work, without breakfast, as he'd grab something on the way. If he could leave at least, because when he grabbed his car keys, he saw the key was bent.

'What is going on with you?' you asked when you found Sihtric still at home after you had woken up.

'My phone was gone again and when I found it, it was dead, I can't make any fucking breakfast because the stove keeps switching off whenever I leave the kitchen, and my fucking car key is bent out of shape!' he spat, 'I emailed Finan to let him know I'm not coming into work today.'

'Oh, okay,' you said, 'so, you're just home because you had a bad morning?'

Sihtric didn't answer and just stared out the window from the couch.

'Honey,' you said, 'we really need the money-'

'I know!' Sihtric yelled, 'I know we need the money! But something's… something's not right!'

'What do you mean?' you asked, 'w-with us?'

'No, not us. This house! Something is wrong with this house!' he yelled.

'It's an old house,' you scoffed, 'are you surprised-'

'No, not like that, sweetheart,' he exhaled sharply, 'I just… fuck,' he jumped up, 'I'm going for a walk.'

While Sihtric was out, clearing his head, you had gone upstairs to work in your little home office. Again you were taunted by the noises stuck in your head from your previous apartment. The sounds had only seemed to intensify the past few weeks. The odd thing was that whenever you truly focused on the noise, it disappeared. But when you were working, the noise was constantly there, driving you insane because it sounded so real and you couldn't explain it.

When Sihtric came back after a few hours, you argued again. You had gotten angry about Sihtric's phone being broken, and told him he had to pay more attention to his belongings, as you simply didn't have the money to replace everything right away. Sihtric got mad because he never broke things on purpose, and he did not mess with things he needed every day, like his phone or his car keys. After the heated argument, you prepared dinner in silence. And you were both calm again when you sat at the table together.

'Sihtric?' you asked during dinner, 'have you heard any noises here?'

'What kind of noises?' he asked and stuffed his mouth with potatoes.

'Like… running,' you said cautiously, 'or voices?'

Sihtric furrowed his brow, 'What do you mean?'

'It's like… when I'm working, I keep hearing those kinds of noises,' you explained, 'it's almost like we're still living in the apartment building. That kind of noise.'

'But that kind of noise is impossible, love,' Sihtric sat back, 'we don't have any direct neighbours.'

'I know, that's why I'm asking. It just… it feels like I'm going insane or something,' you chuckled, 'because I can't explain it. I guess it's like what happened to you with the stove.'

'How do you mean?'

'When I focus on the noise, or try to figure out where it's coming from, I don't hear it anymore. The same way you told me you kept looking at the stove, and it didn't switch off. But as soon as you stop paying attention, the problem returns again.'

'Huh,' Sihtric scoffed, a little concerned, 'but how is that possible?'

'I don't know.'

'And where does it sound like the noises come from?'

'From the attic,' you said, 'but I don't want to go up there, because the light doesn't work.'

'I know, I still need to fix that,' Sihtric sighed, 'I'll have a look tomorrow, okay? The running noises could just be old pipes that rattle. Like you said earlier, it's an old house.'

'Yeah,' you agreed, 'I guess you're right,' you smiled, and Sihtric kissed your forehead as he thanked you for the dinner.

'Do you think buying this house was a mistake?' he asked after a while.

'What? No. Why? Do you?'

'No,' he said, 'well, I mean… I… we've been arguing a lot since we moved here, haven't we? We never used to be like that.'

'I guess,' you agreed, 'but we're under a lot of stress too, Sihtric. We put all our money in this house. But still, I'm glad we live here. The house is amazing, but I think we're just getting caught up over little things we can't explain. We've never lived in a place this big before. It's not uncommon to misplace things, have a faulty stove, a bath that unplugs and to hear some sounds I suppose. We still have to get used to it.'

'Maybe,' Sihtric said, 'but what about my key being bent?'

'I don't know,' you shrugged, 'maybe you sat on it with that big butt of yours?'

'Hey,' Sihtric scowled, but then chuckled, 'I don't know,' he became serious again, 'I definitely didn't sit on it, and I also did not put my phone in the fridge.'

When you went to bed that night, it was once again incredibly cold in the bedroom. You had switched on the heating but that didn't change anything. The room was freezing cold, but if you'd touch the radiator, you'd burn your hands. You got under the sheets and not much later Sihtric joined you. He also complained about how cold it was, but you were both too tired to argue about it, and you fell asleep.

Hours later, you woke up out of nowhere. You glanced at the clock and saw it was a little over three in the morning. You yawned and pulled the sheets up again, as your shoulders were exposed to the cold room. And then moments later, the sheets suddenly got pulled off you with force.

'Sihtric, what the fuck?!' you shouted, angry, cold and tired, 'what the fuck are you doing?!'

'What?' Sihtric asked, startled, as he woke up by your yelling, 'what did I do?' he rubbed his eyes and yawned, then shivered as he realised there was no blanket covering him anymore, 'where's the-'

'Did you not pull it off me?' you interrupted in the dark.

'What?'

'Did you pull the blankets off me?'

'I- what? No!' Sihtric hissed, and switched on a light, 'what are you talking about? Why would I-' he stopped talking as he looked at the floor.

You followed your husband's gaze and froze when you saw the bed sheet was on the floor, near the closet, at the opposite side of the bedroom.

'I can't fucking believe this,' Sihtric huffed the next morning when you met in the kitchen, after a horrendous night.

'What?' you yawned.

'This!' he said and held up the charger of his new phone, which was split in two.

'What the… how?' you frowned.

'I have no idea,' Sihtric threw the cable on the table, 'I'm fucking done. What the fuck is going on here?'

'I don't know, ghosts?' you tried to make light of the situation.

Sihtric glared at you.

'Don't joke about those things!'

'Sorry, mister superstitious,' you mumbled, 'hey, will you check that attic by the way?'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sihtric sighed and grabbed a flashlight, 'I'll do it before I go to work.'

'Thank you,' you kissed his cheek, and he went on his way.

You sipped your tea in the kitchen, trying to stay awake after you had been up since three in the morning. You had been too afraid to sleep again, and had clutched onto the bed sheet until morning came. Sihtric was brave enough to grab the blanket off the floor after the weird event, and he managed to fall asleep afterwards again, but you didn't. And now you were paying the price.

Sihtric climbed up the steep attic stairs and clicked on the flashlight. He looked around the dusty place and took a closer look at the pipes, seeing if they were in need of replacement. But everything seemed fine, and he had no idea what else could cause the noise you heard while you were working. When he turned to climb down the stairs again, he suddenly saw a box in the otherwise empty attic, and he grabbed it.

As you sipped your tea you suddenly heard your husband storm down the stairs.

'Is this fucking funny to you!?' he shouted as he neared the kitchen, and you perked up.

'What?'

'This!' Sihtric snarled, and threw his attic find in front of you on the table, 'did you plan this? You know I don't trust these things!'

You stared with big eyes at the old and nearly falling apart Ouija board box, which you had never seen before. And when you looked up at Sihtric, completely deprived of colour, he immediately knew that you were as spooked as he was.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @liandav

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #modern!sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

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jack-the-nibbler · 6 months

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Voretober Day 4: Haunt

It's an old, beautiful house, quite cheap on the market. So you probably should have expected some trouble from the previous owners...

At first you had wondered why the house had been so cheap. Yes, it was old and in need of some refurbishments, but you didn’t mind that at all. The realtor had told you that many people had complaints of noise, and other things that they refused to disclose. Yes, the atmosphere was a bit eerie, and there were some weird groaning noises coming from the pipes at night, but you could adapt.

But then it became more than just pipes. Sometimes the faucets ran with blood red liquid. The flowers out in the garden seemed to hiss and snap at you. When you got out of the shower, you’d find messages like “GET OUT” and “LEAVE” written on the mirror. There was no doubt that a previous occupant was not happy that you were here. But you didn’t care. Ghost or not, there was no way you were moving back to your dingy old apartment.

One night, you found yourself unable to rest. That eerie atmosphere had been intensifying all week, and throughout the day you felt like you were being watched, glared at. Dread slowly crept through you, fear seeping into your bones, and you couldn’t understand why.

Your bedroom door suddenly swung open. You gasped, pulling the covers up to your face, daring to peek. There was a man standing there; he had handsome, sharp features and a somewhat chubby belly. He wore a top hat that paired perfectly with his Victorian era suit, and a scowl on his face.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” he muttered, marching up to you. “But that ends tonight!” You shook your head, your voice caught in your throat. The gentleman had an otherworldly glow about him, and his hands were like a freezing mist as he grasped your shoulders, devoid of the warmth of life. “This has worked on everyone before you, no reason it should fail now.”

“W-Wait-!” you cried out, watching with wide eyes as he lunged forward, easily engulfing your head in his mouth. Unfortunately he wasn’t as incorporeal as he looked, and your hopes that you would phase right through him were snuffed out as ectoplasmic saliva dripped down your cheek. The specter kept a tight hold on you, gripping your arms as he forced your head and shoulders into his flexible throat.

You whimpered as you slid down the ghostly gentleman’s gullet inch by inch. It was now crystal clear why all the other buyers had left. You couldn’t blame them now…your panicking mind was racing. Would this angry specter have mercy on you? Were you about to be digested by a dead man? Your legs kicked wildly, but your devourer wasn’t bothered at all. He held onto your hips, his belly expanding as your legs were slurped down with frightening efficiency.

As the ghost’s belly rounded out, you found that you could actually see out into your bedroom. You reached out, vainly hoping that you could push your arm through to the outside. But your hand pressed against a gooey stomach wall, refusing to yield enough for you to break free. Your legs joined you in the slimy pouch, forcing you to curl up within. You sat in shock, gingerly pushing around. Your struggles soon picked up, intensifying with your urge not to stew within this man’s otherworldly guts.

“Why are you doing this?!” you cried, pushing against the walls of your slimy, spectral prison. “I didn’t mean any harm!” The ghost pressed down on you and scoffed.

“Of course you didn’t…You’d just be gutting our home, tearing everything we cherished apart and forcing us to endure years of our afterlife putting up with you and your rowdy activities!” he growled. He glared down at you through his clear stomach walls, making you meekly shrink back.

“N-no, I wasn’t going to do that…hell, I can’t even afford to do that…” you said softly, shivering. “If I wanted that, I would have just moved to the city. I really do like this place…”

The specter fell silent, a hand resting over your form. He mulled over your words, his harsh gaze gradually softening the more he looked over you. You seemed genuine, just confused and scared. He’d swallowed and scared away plenty of other residents, but this time guilt was starting to creep in.

“Oh…perhaps I judged you too soon…I apologize…” he said, carefully rubbing over you. “I won’t chase you out, then. As long as you don’t mind living with ghosts.” Relief instantly swept over you. You sighed, laying back within his gut.

“So…you’ll let me out?” You asked. You felt safer now, especially since you didn’t feel any tingling or other signs of digestion. It was just horribly slimy, and just a bit chilly. Not to mention sticky too…but you could actually get used to this otherwise.

“Yes…in the morning. I’ll even help you wash the ectoplasm out of your clothes,” he said. “My name is Garrett, by the way. We can talk more in the morning.” Garrett laid back, pulling the blanket up over his full belly. “I think my husband will like you.”

Oh well…you nestled in slightly, soothed by Garrett caressing your form. The blanket at least helped to warm you up a bit. Another presence soon joined him in bed, their own spectral hand resting over you. It helped to soothe you further after that fright. You slowly drifted off, having quite a lot to look forward to tomorrow…

#soft vore #safe vore #nonfatal vore #vore writing #male pred #ghost vore #ghost pred #spooky vore #voreville voretober #voretober #prey pov #pov vore #unorthodox way of introducing one of my OCs #sort of an AU for them I guess

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

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A Little at a Time, Part 5

Summary: you can’t quit running into Andy

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, PIV sex, loss of virginity, blood, mentions of cheating, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8.5K

Series Masterlist

*dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Uh,” you look over the lengthy menu of the coffee shop. It was more than just a K Cup and CoffeeMate. The menu was extensive, and you just wanted coffee. Exactly how hard was this supposed to be? “Well, what would you suggest?”

The girl slumps her shoulders staring at you. “Coffee.”

“Oh, I, um…I like caramel, and…I prefer creamy coffee. Not too sweet. Mamaw always says you’ll rot your teeth if it’s too sweet. Which she always likes drinking sweet tea all day.”

“What kind of coffee do you want?” The girl says shortly. She definitely wasn’t making this process easier, and still you apologize to her for the inconvenience, and being too dumb to figure out what coffee you wanted.

“Candace!” Another girl steps up behind her. “Please go make yourself useful and make some cold brew. Sorry. She’s…well, she’s just blunt. With very little patience and rarely is up front. Name is Tori. I’m always here. Own the place. What’s the problem sweetheart? Overwhelmed?”

You give her a bit of a nod, and she looks over your body a bit. Smiling as she steps back. “I’m sure you would love some of the seasonal brews, but everybody needs a go to coffee. You look like a caramel girl. Yes?” She was lovely. Much nicer than Candace before her, and it was like she was reading you to determine your perfect drink. “Okay, today, I’m suggesting a caramel macchiato. Don’t be afraid to tell me it doesn’t work. Or are you a tea girl? Judging by that accent I’m guessing it’s the good ole sweet tea, though. You already have the sugar in there?”

“Yeah. Two cups per gallon. I’m more of a one and half cups per gallon, but my Papaw always gives me a side eye. You gotta steep the bags for a long time. Actually I bought me and Mamaw some tea from Ireland, Lyons tea. Have you heard of it?”

“No,” she giggles at you, sliding over a cup of the iced macchiato that another employee had made, and you give it a taste, moaning at how good it was. “I only keep the best beans here. So you’re into hot tea?”

“It’s not terrible. I like a black tea, but herbal tea wasn’t for me. It’s,” she points at a customer behind you, and you raise your cup. Walking over to find a seat. You liked it here. It wasn’t pretentious, and the owner enjoyed having a traditional coffee shop while still trying to have high quality products and trying new things.

You smile, looking out the window. You liked it. You felt comfortable. You pull out a book, casually reading and sipping on your coffee. Settling back in the cozy chair. It smelled amazing here. It was one of the first times you felt comfortable. Apart from any times that the hot Bostonian was around you.

It didn’t make sense that this man you knew very little about had occupied your time so much. How you couldn’t stop thinking about him, and his kind smile. It was like he always appeared just when you needed him. He laughed at appropriate times, and not at you. Cole always seemed to talk down to you, and you had known him for years.

You hang your head down low, wondering why you had ever forced yourself to continue in that relationship. It was comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. You had made yourself believe that was all you were going to be good enough for, and yet he still made you too uncomfortable to ever be truly intimate with him. Every time you were intimate it was always him initiating it. You sniffle, refusing to let yourself cry another damn tear for Cole Turner. He wasn’t worth it.

Andy steps up to the counter, getting a quick head nod from Tori who was already making his regular brew while he scans the shoppe. Landing directly at a table for two with you alone, and one cup on the table. You looked zoned out while reading a book. Mostly touching your hair, or rubbing the bridge of your nose. Not paying any mind to anything around you.

“How long has she been here?” He asks Tori, who smiles at him. “What?”

“She’s a pretty girl. A bit overwhelmed with coffee. Talks a lot. Not from around here,” Andy nods his head, confused as to what point she was trying to make. “She’s probably just visiting. Why waste your time?”

“She’s not just visiting. She’s living here with a cousin,” his eyes go back to you, and you were none the wiser. He was able to actually look at you. You didn’t seem miserable to be here. You were at peace. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“Uh-huh. Is that all?” Andy offers a smile as a response. Grabbing his coffee to walk over to your table.

He stares at your expression, trying to get a better read on you. Poppy had told him to give you time, but you looked good. Happier than the first time that he had run into you. Definitely happier than when you were at the bar. Clearing his throat, you look up at him. With the biggest and prettiest smile, “This seat taken?”

“Oh, lord, yeah…I mean, no. Yeah, sit down. Sorry,” you bashfully laugh, trying to control your breathing. “You like coffee? I mean, of course you do. Unless that’s tea, is that tea?”

“It’s coffee,” he chuckles, and you have to look away. Biting at your tongue, and wiping your hands on your pants. “You come here often?”

“First time actually. Just a walk down the road. You know that you guys have everything within walking distance?”

“Poppy does because of the apartment. There’s houses further out that don’t. I’m guessing where you’re from, you don’t have that?”

You nearly choke on your coffee, trying to swallow it quickly to answer him. Wiping off the bit that spilled on the cup, and apologizing, “No, there’s a McDonald’s and a Dairy Queen. If you want coffee you pretty much have to make it at home. My Mamaw and Papaw they’re old school with the drip coffee, but I like a Keurig and a milk frother and I think I’m doing something special,” letting out a nervous laugh, you can’t help but to stare into his eyes. They were beautiful. That overflowing feeling of kindness and comfort warming you up.

“So what is it that you do Andy?”

“I’m the assistant district attorney, and you?”

“I taught pre-k. Nothing quite as glamorous as you. I put in an application at the daycare. I haven’t heard back from them though. I really need to find a job. I’d prefer not to go through all my savings, and I was blowing through a lot with the food delivery.”

“I think working with children is quite admirable. It can’t be easy,” you shake your head no, starting to giggle. Why were you like this? You never could have an easy conversation, but with Andy it was different. You weren’t trying to be anybody, but yourself.. “Does working with kids make you want them, or make you want to stay far away from them?”

“I’ve always wanted kids. Having a child or two is different than having twenty or more four year olds in one classroom. But they’re just little people, you know? They have their good days and bad days. They’re still learning right from wrong. Being introduced to other kids their own age that have been raised differently. They’re trying to control their big emotions in these little bitty bodies. Kids don’t confuse me. Adults do.”

“Hmm,” Andy had never thought about it quite like that. It made perfect sense. By the time people were adults they should know right from wrong. Should know that cheating on your husband was very wrong. “So…why Boston?”

“My cousin Poppy. I didn’t want to be in a small town around people who spread false gossip around like a bowl of tater salad at a cookout. You have the luxury of not everyone knowing your business here. I know that your inner circle may know, and some outside of that. But imagine going to a grocery store and people commenting about your relationship. Or finding out the immense amount of people that he was cheating on you with. You start questioning maybe I did something wrong, or maybe if I would have done this. But the fact of the matter is he wasn’t a good person, and he didn’t deserve me, and doesn’t deserve the friendship of his best friend. Yeah, he told the town I was sleeping with his best friend. I still don’t understand why he started that.”

“Wow,” you shared too much. Whatever this was is completely squashed because you shared too much. “He sounds like an asshole. How long do you think he was cheating?”

“Too long for me to stay with him. Out of sight out of mind. Figured it would eventually stop. Made excuses that my mind was running all these crazy scenarios only for those crazy scenarios to actually be true. So I’m the idiot.”

“He came home every night?” You give him a shrug, and Andy isn’t sure what to think. Did you really not care, or was there something more?

“I didn’t live with him. He is a cop and had weird hours. I hate being in a house alone. I stayed with him a lot, but lived with my grandparents. Pretty sure a lot of his cheating was while he was working.”

Andy hated this man and he didn’t even know his name, “So…he was engaging in sexual activity while in uniform?”

“He was engaged in sexual activity as a payment to get out of tickets. So I’ve been told. Nobody could tell me while I was engaged. But they like to talk now.”

“That’s illegal. Bribery is not just frowned upon, but is illegal an punishable. I’m sorry. I know, I didn’t do it, but…on the behalf of mankind that does not cheat, and will value a woman’s worth, I apologize. Not all men are like that, so I don’t want you to walk around here thinking that we are. Some are just bad. They’re going to cheat. Women, too. I don’t judge future women for what my ex wife did. That isn’t fair to me, and most certainly not you…uh…other women.”

You catch it, and Andy is fully aware that you caught it. He noticed your eyes light up at the comment, and he starts to relax more. He was hoping you would pick up on the fact that he was interested. Very interested. He would never treat you the way that Cole did. He would want to come home to you every night. “So you didn’t move in with him just because his work schedule?”

“There’s many reasons. I didn’t want to live with someone before marriage, but then I would stay days at a time. It was nice, but there was always something, you know? Something that never felt just right with Cole, and I think subconsciously I knew there was something wrong, so that’s why I never moved in. Even my Papaw wasn’t the biggest fan, he would talk to anybody. He just sat there and stared at things when Cole was around, and never looked in his eyes. That’s a big thing for Papaw. Mamaw…she’s your typical southern woman. She just wants to stuff food in your mouth and hear your flattery. But even she asked me so many times if I really wanted to marry him. I was so far in, I felt like I had to. He proposed, so I said yes. I’ve always allowed people to tell me what I need to do, including not living with someone I wasn’t married to.”

It made sense. This Cole, that Andy was definitely going to be digging more into, had used your obedience and people pleasing nature to shift things in his favor. He knew men just like Cole, and he couldn’t stand them. Here was this sweet woman who was this angelic little ball of radiance. You were personable, even if you overshared a bit. You were eager to make friends, or at least with him. You adapted to your surroundings, and Cole took advantage of that.

He sits across from you, listening to you talk about your hometown, and home life. Poppy was never quite this forthcoming. Choosing more to forget where she came from, but you spoke of this place like it was what shaped you into who you were, and you were proud of that fact. There was a fondness when talking about your grandparents especially.

“Wait, your mom?” He asks when you mention her, and you nod your head, finishing up the coffee, “How does she fit in your life?”

“Oh, that always confuses people. She’s the mayor of the town. When my dad passed, she put everything into her political life, and had no room to take care of me. I moved in with Mamaw and Papaw, and she comes by at least once a week, but she didn’t raise me. I think it was too hard for her. I remind her of my dad. And I don’t have daddy issues. Cole seemed to think I did. No, Papaw was a good father figure for me. He took me fishing, taught me how to play string instruments, even though neither of us can read music. He came to every one of my basketball games, or t-ball. He was always present, always steady. I don’t remember my dad, but I remember every time that my Papaw was there for me. He’d burn the world down if it meant protecting me. I became his other daughter.”

“I didn’t think you had daddy issues, Papaw sounds like a good man. Which string instruments?”

“Uhh…the only thing I’m not great at is the banjo. All those finger picks. Mandolin is my favorite. I can play a fiddle. Papaw used to help me with the stand up bass. I couldn’t hold it on my own. Guitar is his favorite though. They did these picking nights. Yes, in the south some people pick on their front porch, this is a real thing. Mamaw can’t play, but she has this big beautiful church voice, you know? The one that doesn’t need a microphone. You feel her words in your gut. It’s beautiful. Deep and rich. I don’t hate my childhood or my mother’s need to have someone else raise me. I had a good life. My Papaw, he had this thing for buying weird animals. We had these peacocks that roamed around the yard for awhile, and there was a buffalo. He was old and they were going to put him down, but Papaw wanted him to live his last days roaming in a pasture with a bunch of cows.”

“Peacocks randomly walking around your yard. Sounds…interesting. So you lived on a farm?” You shake your head no, and now Andy was even more confused. “A pasture of cows?”

“Oh, that was my Papaw’s brother. The cows were Uncle Sonny’s, but the pasture touched our driveway. Papaw talked to the cows. And of course Barry the buffalo,” you were fascinating. He could sit and talk to you for hours. Your face is so animated with every bit of information you give him, and he just couldn’t learn enough. “We always had a ton of mutt dogs. And they had official names, but Papaw seriously called them whatever name he could think of at that moment. Peanut and Snickers were his favorite names. There was a cat, but she was a useless thing. A few chickens, but he only bought them because they looked cool. There was a goat in the pasture, and Papaw called him Satan. Swore that ugly thing was the devil himself. He just randomly appeared on the porch making a mess of things, or would be on the hood of his truck.”

“Satan makes sense,” you continue talking to Andy, and he listens to every bit. It was like reading something completely made up. It was crazy to think people had grown up like this. You were able to run around completely unattended and barefoot creating stories of far off adventures, and eat apples with peacocks.

You were able to walk down this country dirt road and explore all day long. There was this sense of innocence to you, that he couldn’t place, but with a quick glance at his watch seeing the hours that had passed, he didn’t want this to end.

“Oh, lord, I am so sorry. I could seriously talk the horns off a goat. I’m sure you had something you needed to do. I just sometimes forget all that part of my life. It’s nice to relive my childhood.”

“You’re fine, honestly,” adorable is what you are. From the way you talked right down to your sweet accent, you were adorable. “I’ve loved this. I, uh…I don’t want to seem forward or anything, but I would like to continue this. Over drinks or something?”

“Wait…are you talking about a date?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, but it doesn’t have to be something like that at all. It can be two people who enjoy talking, and someone wanting to show another someone the city of Boston.”

“No!” Andy laughs when you practically shout at him. You wanted to explore something more romantic. This was nice, but Cole never wanted to date. It was always wanting to get you home, and hoping that with enough making out you would actually have sex with him. He had fallen in love with your body, but not your mind. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Okay. So…uh, Friday night at seven work? Poppy’s bar? It doesn’t get rowdy until around nine. Nobody is eating food and everyone is drinking at that time, but I promise the food is amazing.”

“Okay. Yeah. Yes…yes, Andy, I think dinner sounds lovely. Seven? Friday? I can do that.”

“I look forward to it,” it was a quick motion, but he lays his hand over top of yours, and you can’t help but to preen up at him. Andy takes a quick look at your beaming face, having to say goodbye again, because his heart was fluttering. It felt like a school age crush all over again.

“Poppy!” Your cousin runs into the bedroom that you had been occupying, and immediately starts laughing. “Help.”

“Where are you going on a Friday night? I’m off tonight, I thought we were going to…Peach Blossom, this is date clothes.”

“Yep,” you agree, pulling something else out of the closet, before tossing it on the bed. “Help me.”

Poppy cocks her hip to the side, looking you up and down. Gauging your demeanor to see if you looked uncomfortable or just nervous, and then back to the clothes. A new pink Victoria’s Secret bag on the opposite of the floor. When you catch her looking, you slide it closer to the bed, hoping she didn’t actually see what she thinks she saw.

“Who?”

“Uh, don’t hate me. But you know that guy I kept telling you I was running into?” Smiling, she nods her head, “Well, his name is Andy.”

“Andy what?”

“Um…I didn’t get that part, but he’s the assistant district attorney, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find, right? Anyways.”

“Did you actually check? I mean, is there an Andy that’s the ADA?” You shake your head no, starting to reach for your phone. “I mean, how do we know anything this man has ever said? What if it’s all a lie?” She was right. How did you know? How did you know anything? You had seen this man at a grocery store twice and at a coffee shop.

“Well…I shouldn’t go on the date then?” Poppy wants to keep the charade up a little bit longer, but the look in your eyes when you start to think about canceling was almost hurting her darkened heart. It was a look she hadn’t ever seen you make when talking about someone you were engaged to. “But…he seems really nice. He was just recently divorced. And we were at the coffee shop for about four hours talking.”

“You talked to that man for four hours? About what?”

“Things. Life things. Like growing up in Georgia, and…Poppy, I really like him. If I can prove that he is in fact an ADA do you think, honestly, that it would be okay? Like surely if he works for the government he wouldn’t kill me right? Or…Poppy!” You scream at her when she starts laughing. She always had an easier time talking to men. She exuded sex appeal. Was a natural flirt with the prettiest lashes, puffy lips, even beauty marks that looked faked.

“Andy Barber is in fact the ADA, you’re fine.”

“You…you know him?” You ask, slinging a shirt at her. “You know this man, and you made me have second thoughts, because I felt he was going to kill me? You’re…you’re mean.”

“Ooh, shot to my heart. And you’re naive. I just want you to be careful. Your track record of one boyfriend and one fiancé, and they’re both the same person just doesn’t do you any favors, but,” her fingers begin lifting up different pieces of your clothing, before pairing the perfect outfit for you, “Andy is genuinely a good guy. He comes to the bar sometimes. Came a lot after divorcing Laurie. That’s how we met. He helped me out with my…well, he helped me press charges, and…this isn’t the time to talk about this because you have a date. And he’s a good man. He was there the night you were at the bar asking about you.”

“And you led me on like that? I can’t believe you, we’re supposed to be cousins and friends. I really like him. Like I like him more than I ever liked…Pops, can I be honest with you?”

“Does it have something to do with that bag of what I’m assuming is new lingerie?” You hate to admit it, but there was no denying the fact that you had bought lingerie just for this evening. It wasn’t overly revealing, and should things not work out, you could still see yourself wearing it. “Can we openly talk about yours and Cole’s relationship?” You nod your head, knowing that eventually this was going to come up. “What happened?”

“When we started dating, I did have that whole save yourself for marriage mentality because that’s what the pastor said. That continued, but then…the first time he touched me I liked it. But he scared me. Not like he ever hurt me, but I didn’t trust myself with him. He always wanted things to move so fast, and never wanted to just talk and get to know each other, and then it got to the point of me saying, well, I’ve already done this, might as well do more, but I never wanted to have sex with him. He wasn’t special enough.”

“But you were willing to marry him? Got that big fancy dress.”

“His mom insisted on that dress. But…I don’t know if I ever wanted to give him that part of me. It was like in the back of my head he never thought I was that special. I fit his idea of a wife. I would look good as the future sheriff’s wife. But I think we were two people that were just going through the motions.”

“And you think Andy is that person?” The big questions. You weren’t positive by any means, but positive enough to get something nice for the occasion.

“I don’t know. What I do know is I have talked to Andy more in the few hours we’ve been together than the three years Cole and I were together. I don’t know if Cole ever listened to me. If he did he would have made me feel comfortable around him. He always wanted to push my boundaries. Always wanted pictures, or videos, and I just wanted to talk. He only wanted to talk if it led to, well you know. With Andy, he listens, I feel comfortable, and I don’t have those reservations. I just want things to happen as they will.”

“I’m not going to give you a curfew, but I want you to at least communicate to me what’s happening. Like if you’re going to his house, tell me. You’re not losing your virginity in this apartment. I’m not listening to that shit. You could do a lot worse than Andy. Hell, you have. Peaches, I envy you,” you didn’t understand where this was coming from, because it was Poppy you had always envied. You wished you had her tenacity and her ability to not take shit off no one.

“You had this charmed life with Mamaw and Papaw. You knew what you wanted, and that was your perfect house with the white picket fence, two to four kids because you didn’t want your kids to be only children. A cute little dog that kept your kids rounded up and happy, and for some unknown reason you like people in power. Like Cole, the police officer, and now Andy. Hell, didn’t you used to have a crush on that one guy that became a fucking lawyer? You have always known what you wanted, and I wanted it all and wanted to try it all. What I’m saying is I see now how you wanted everything perfect, but just remember there’s no such thing. It’s okay to make mistakes, because you will always get back up. You will not let those mistakes drag you down. So go out and make mistakes. Because we’re Jackon’s, we always figure it out.”

“You think Andy is a mistake?”

“I think not going and thinking too much is a mistake. Have fun with Andy. Judging by your bag, have too much fun. If it feels right, it’s right. But don’t rush it either. If you’re having second thoughts, I promise that man ain’t going anywhere. He’ll wait on you,” while you had always been closer to Anna Kate, she always had the ability to agree with you, but Poppy told you what you needed to hear. And you loved her for that. The wild child of the Jackson granddaughters.

“Thanks. I’m going to enjoy myself.”

“You don’t like wine?” Andy asks, laughing when you grimace from the taste. “You liked what I suggested the other day.”

“Can I have that again? I’m sorry that was rude,” you hold the glass up, looking at it, and feeling so bad. “What is this?”

“A merlot. Quit trying to apologize to me, I suggested it, and you tried it. You don’t like it, and that’s fine. What do you normally drink?”

“One old fashioned. I’m honestly not big on drinking. I get…I’m friendly,” he holds a hand up for the waitress, asking for her to bring out two old fashioneds. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“We’re enjoying our food and drinks tonight. So no dry wines for you. Old fashioned, huh? Whiskey. It’s true what they say about southern women.”

“Not always. Poppy likes vodka. My Papaw is the whiskey and bourbon drinker. Mamaw doesn’t drink. You drink what you know. When Poppy, Anna Kate, and I were little we’d sneak to the cellar and get a bottle of Jack Daniels. No, it wasn’t a big wine cellar. It was this creepy underground bunker type thing. You had to walk past this crooked tree. There was this gnarly stick that kept the door closed, but eventually it was a lock because Papaw’s liquor kept going missing. Mamaw said we shouldn’t be drinking, but Papaw gave us the key. We earned a drink after walking past that old shed that had all these pigeons in there and that crooked tree. I always said it was poisoned, and if you touched it you would be cursed.”

“Did you ever touch it?”

“Hell no. I believed that. Didn’t stop us from sneaking down in there. What about your childhood?”

“Single mother. Not much to talk about. I’m more curious about yours. It seems so…almost made up, but I have no doubts you were doing all of this. Lived on a dirt road, never saw cars coming down the road unless they lived down it. It sounds beautiful.”

“You can walk to the house my grandpa grew up in. It’s more a shack than anything. There’s no power lines, because he didn’t grow up with electricity. No running water. It’s falling down now, but that place held magical powers, too. It’s funny the things we take for granted, like being able to bathe when you want to. Being able to take a drink without making sure the buckets were filled with spring water.”

“I’d like to see it someday.”

“I’d like to show you. Sorry,” you answer too quickly, ruining the moment when your foot knocks on Andy’s. “I’m such a clutz.”

“Keep it there,” oh boy. You were feeling things. Feeling things you had never felt for Cole. Things that you had thought you would only feel for your husband, but Andy was proving that all wrong. You were thankful for this tight seating, and Andy’s ability to rub his fingers on your knee.

A surge of heat rushes to your core, and you feel like you can no longer breathe. This was very different with Cole, because you want more. “You okay?” You give Andy a headnod, pepping yourself up to breathe. Just breathe.

“Is it hot in here? Are you hot?” Andy smiles, shaking his head. You were completely flustered, and it made you more adorable. Reaching for a glass of water, you take a big sip, and when his hand starts sliding away, you slam your own hand over his, “No, I like it.”

“Okay.”

“I like it too much,” your eyes go wide with your admission. How was he able to make you feel comfortable, and yet so nervous at the same time? “I hate myself.”

“It’s fine. Come here,” you stand up from your side of the table, moving to sit next to him, and he picks up your hand, placing it over his heart. It was beating out of his chest just like yours. “You’re not the only one, okay? It’s like every time I’m around you, this…this is what I feel.”

“I feel my heart pounding…all over,” you cuss under your breath, because you shouldn’t have told him that. He did not need to know everywhere that you could feel your pulse. Instead of his hand being on your knee it was much higher on your thigh. His thumb caresses your leg, but it stays properly over your skirt.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes. It’s perfectly fine.”

“You should drink your old fashioned. Please, keep talking.”

“And then what happened?” Andy asks, leaning in closer to you. It was getting late, and you could already hear the amount of people that was piling into the bar. But it was just a low hum. The only thing that mattered was Andy beside you. His head starts to tilt, and you rush towards his lips. You didn’t care about that careful build up because your body was aching with a need to touch him.

He slots his mouth against yours, and the kiss was an immediate connection. It seemed silly, but you could feel sparks flying. Lips parting as his tongue slides past your lips, gasping when it touches your own. Your body arches into his, and the hand that has been resting at your side travels up. Far enough up for his thumb to graze over your nipple, and you pull away from him, gasping for air.

“A-A-Andy?” You had to have been drunk off his lips, because what you were thinking in this moment is nowhere near what you normally would, but it felt right. “I don’t wanna stay here anymore.”

“Oh? I’m not quite sure I follow. Did…did I do something wrong?”

“Is there somewhere quiet to go? Like…”

“My place?” You nod your head enthusiastically, and Andy lays down a hundred dollar bill to cover well over the food, drinks, and tip. The two of you standing up, walking hand in hand out to the car.

The further away you get from the bar, the closer you lean into him, but Andy also couldn’t get enough. There was not enough time to touch you like he wanted to. Calculating in his head the amount of time it was going to take to drive you to his house, but he was going to make the most of it.

Every traffic light had him pulling you back in for a kiss. Hating he had to keep his eye on the light, before the two of you would look back out the windshield. His hand that rests on your leg, was dangerously high. He could feel the heat coming off your cunt. Feeling like a furnace that was radiating a blaze of arousal to his hand. You needed relief. He could almost smell how wet you were, and he wanted this night to last on into the morning.

Pulling into the garage, he rushes to your side of the door. Crashing his lips against your own as he struggles to open the door. The two of you hit and knock over too many things off the wall and counter until he stops in the living room. Waiting on you to decide where to go from there. Your chest heaves with a fervent need to have him all over your body, but also wanting to catch your breath.

The couch looks comfortable, so you back him up on it. Letting him fall to the cusions when you ruck up your skirt, and crawl over him. Having to pick up his hands to place on your body, “You’re okay with this?” He asks in between kisses.

“Just touch me,” and he does. He touches you all over. Squeezing and groping. Smoothing over your skin, and before you know it he was sucking bruises on your neck, while your body grinds over him, and you moan at the feeling of his cock growing harder under you. You hate comparing things to Cole, but you had never felt like this.

Andy’s fingers were capable, but still he gives you a moment to decide if you wanted to continue. When he realizes you weren’t objecting, he continues his motions in that spot on your body. Exploring every inch of your supple skin. It isn’t until his finger slides up and down your drenched and brand new panties, that you gasp, stopping your body.

Andy throws both hands up, panting as he stares at you, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I thought…thought that’s where we were going. I’m…I didn’t mean to.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you smile, slowly rolling your hips on him. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” grabbing the hemline of your blouse, you pull it over your head, and he gets to stare at your pretty little new underwear. It framed your curves perfectly. Andy’s hands slide up and down your thighs, causing your kiss swollen lips to tremble.

“Will you tell me if we’re going too far?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“So, if I do this,” his hand dips back in between your thighs, letting his thumb rub over your soiled panties. “You like that?” You nod your head, and he slips his hand under the panties. Pulling the gusset out far enough that he was just feeling your slick on the lace. “You’ve made a mess for me.”

When he allows his thumb to touch your skin, your eyes close, rolling back in your head, and you let out a deep pornographic moan. “You like this?”

“Uh…huh,” squeaking out your words when he touches your bundle of nerves. Giving the little pearl flicks. Removing his hand, he circles both around your hips. Readjusting you, and leaning you back so he gets a clear view of your covered and weeping cunt.

Moving aside your panties, he stares at your folds, before looking back up at you. Two fingers push into your warmth, and he stares intently as your jaw goes slack. Your fingers dig into his skin as he scissors into you, “You have a tight little pussy. Are you still doing okay?”

“Andy…Andy,” you whimper his name as he slowly pumps into you. He was getting off on your pleasure, and still you wanted more. “I want you. I want you!” His fingers drive into you faster, curling up. Hitting over your spot over and over until your toes curl. Feelings that you had never felt before. Body tensing up as he works you over. Screaming out his name until your juices were pouring out of you, and you couldn’t focus. The room was blurry and spinning around.

You grab at his wrist, and he stops completely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Do what?” Andy gives you a devilish smirk. Whoever you were with before did not know how to properly care for you if he could never make you squirt like that. “Peaches, what did you do?”

“I think…oh god, I think I peed. It’s not funny. I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart, has peeing ever made you feel that good? If it has, I'm very jealous of your bathroom habits. Honey, have you never squirted?” You shake your head no, because your body most definitely had never done that before. “What you did was nothing to apologize about. So…what do you want to do now?”

“You?”

“You want to do me?” Now would be a perfect time to let him know you were a virgin, but you didn’t want him to take things slower. You were committed to it being tonight. You wanted Andy. It felt right. There was nothing even remotely telling you to slow down. He made you feel safe, and made you desire more.

“Yes. In the bed?”

Letting you stand up, he grabs at your hand, leading you into the bedroom, when he turns around to kiss over your sticky skin. Hands behind your back when your bra drops to the floor. Grabbing a handful of your tit, he lets his greedy mouth suck on you. You shimmy out of your skirt, and reach towards his pants. Nervously starting to undo his button. Letting the jeans sink to the floor when you palm his boxer briefs.

His breath comes out labored, and he just rips his button up off while you gaze at the thick cords of muscles that made up his arms and chest. Leading you to the bed when he removes his underwear. You glance down at his thick and heavy cock, and have never wanted nothing more. Staring up at him through your lashes when you back up on the bed. Setting in the center, and stare at Andy. He was a god among men.

Andy reaches into a drawer beside the bed, and pulls out a foil packet. Bringing it to his mouth his teeth clench as he rips it open. Blowing the excess out of his mouth before rolling the latex on his fat cock. Placing his knee on the bed, when he looks at you. Not your body, but you. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you whisper, and he crawls closer to you. Adjusting your legs wider to accommodate him and his broad body. Andy runs his fingers through your slit, changing to bring his tip to tease at your entrance. Watching your face as you nod. Staring at only him when he pushes into your tight channel, making your back arch into him. You wouldn’t cry, and you wouldn’t scream, but he had set you on fire.

“Fuck. Fuck. You’re so fucking tight. Shit. What…this is going to come off rude,” Andy struggles to breathe right along with you. Drawing his hips back, when he shoves himself back in. “Was…fuck…was he that small?” You laugh despite wanting to do other things. Trying not to cry even though it stung like hell. Every movement he made was worse than the one before.

Gripping at his back when he really starts thrusting into you. It stung. There was such a fullness to his girth inside your virginal cunt that it overwhelmed you. Nothing could have prepared you for this. “Andy…Andy.”

“Fucking hell,” he leans up a bit, seeing the tears in your eyes as he slows down. Looking down at where the two of you connect to see his cock wrapped in blood. “Oh my god. What happened? Are you okay? Did I do something?”

“I’m fine. Just keep going.”

“You’re bleeding. Did you start your period? What…?” You lift up to your elbows, horrified. He had you so stretched out. No wonder it was slightly painful. You drop down on the bed, mortified. “What is wrong?”

“I’m a…well, I was, I guess this is official, but I was a…uh, well, you see…you’re my first person. This is the first time. I was a virgin.”

“Oh,” Andy is a bit relieved, and a bit bothered you wouldn’t just tell him. “You…you didn’t think to tell someone? I mean, I just assumed. You said you stayed for days with deputy douche bag, and you never had sex?” You shake your head no, still covering your eyes. You couldn’t look at him. “Why? And please, just look at me. I’m inside you, I don’t think things get more intimate than this.”

You slowly let your hands fall to the bed below, looking up at Andy. Things weren’t feeling quite so uncomfortable anymore. Your pussy was adjusting to his width, and you were beginning to love the way the pressure felt, and even more how close he was to you. This was awkward, and still so very right. Even as he starts to pull out, you hold onto him, “Please don’t. I wanted to wait for marriage.”

“Okay, this…this doesn’t make me feel good.”

“No. With him. I went in thinking that’s what I should do, but all those years later, I still never felt comfortable enough to actually have sex. I was beginning to even dread the wedding night. I was using the excuse of waiting until marriage, because I didn’t want to fuck him. But with you…Andy, I wanted this. I wanted you. I’m not saying we have to get married. I’m saying I wanted this. I wanted you, and I wanted you to have this. I felt more comfortable with you than with someone who I had slept with, not sex, but slept beside, and held. I just didn’t want to have sex with him. I didn’t trust him.”

“If you would have told me…”

“You would have made me wait,” he shakes his head no, smiling down at you. You were completely right. He would have made you wait. He would have enjoyed taking you apart slowly. “Yeah, you would. You’re that kind of a guy. One date wouldn’t have been a long enough time.”

“I could have taken time with you. I could have used my fingers to stretch you out a bit more. I could have taken the time, and kissed on you a bit more, tasted you. Slid into you slower, or hell I don’t even know, realize what I had laying in my bed. You deserve more than you were given and if that jackass ever pushed you and made you feel like he was owed this, I’m sorry, but I think you deserve more than I just gave you, too.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not mad. This wasn’t some romance movie moment, but tonight has been the best night of my life. I came home with you because I like talking to you, and I like the way you make my body feel. I came home with you thinking that just making out would be plenty, but I did want this. I like the way you make me feel, yes, but I love the way you treat me. I barely know you, and still feel like I’ve known you my whole life. I don’t regret tonight. No part of it, maybe the not telling you part. But this feels nice, no?”

“This feels a lot better than nice. I just wish…”

“I don’t need a bed of roses because those wither away.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“It's a country song, anyways, I want you. And this moment. I want you to fuck…make love…have sex, whatever to call it. I want to feel you all over my body. Please…please just — I want this Andy, I want to feel you take control over my body,,” with a deep breath, Andy slowly pulls himself out of you, and slowly sinks back in. “Andy, are you clean?”

“Yeah.”

“So am I. Just don’t come in me.”

“You say that now,” he whispers, pulling himself completely out of you. Looking at your tight but gaping hole. He pulls off the condom, touching his tip at your entrance with a moan. “I do not care what you say or beg of me I will not put my cum in you, and I mean that.”

“Okay. Just…holy shit,” hands on his back, you scratch down the muscled skin as he pushes through your entrance. This was such a different feeling. Skin on skin. Everything became more sensitive, more intimate. And he doesn’t stop until he is fully sheathed into your wet heat. Settling his weight over you. Using his fingers to push back your hair as he starts a slow and steady pumps.

“Uh…uh,” a round of whimpering squeaks exit your mouth, and you want to close your eyes, and want to keep staring up at him. “Andy…An — dy.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“And it feels good?”

“So good. So — good. Oh!” He picks up the pace. It had been so long since he had someone like this. He couldn’t remember when he was able to fully feel what they felt like from the inside. He never trusted Laurie. But you were freely giving him every part of you. Every part of you was gripping him tightly; hand on his back, legs around his waist, and your cunt was making it hard to breathe. You were perfect.

He would have made you wait. You deserved that, but this was better than he could have imagined. ��Your perfect little whimpers, and the way your nails dig into his skin when he hits a certain spot just. Right. There. Lifting your back off the bed, you and him were so close, and fused together.

“Yeah. Yeah, you like the way I make you feel, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Andy…”

“You wanna try being on top? From behind?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want Andy to leave you for any second. “Okay, just this once. You’re gonna have to be a good girl and try other positions eventually, okay?”

“Okay. Andy…Andy. I’m…”

“Trust me, I can fucking tell. You’re doing such a good job. Have you stretched out and full of me. Got you right….right…right…fucking — there,” your cunt clenches down tight. Too tight for Andy to even move. He lets you ride out your high. Your eyes were deep dark pools of lust as you gaze owlishly up at him. Still panting with tears leaking out of your eyes as he pulls completely out of you. Wrapping his hand around his girth, fisting himself before spurting his thick cream up your stomach.

Giving a glance down to your ruined cunt when he rubs over your sensitive bean, “How are you feeling?”

“Overwhelmed,” Andy stares up at his spend laying on your body before gathering it up. Rubbing your clit with the mess, and you sit up. Moaning at his motions, but also everything else, “What…Andy, what are you doing?”

“Sperm dies outside of the body in about two minutes.”

“Do you always do this?” He shakes his head no, and he wasn’t lying. He had never wanted to see his spunk leak out of anyone more than you. Had never yearned to see someone’s cum mix with his own. “Do you want me to go home?”

“I’d prefer you stayed right there. I need to take care of you. Clean you up. Make sure you rehydrate. Snuggle you. Smell you.”

“And have sex again later?”

“No. We’ll do this again,” he slaps at your pussy before standing up, and waddling to the bathroom. “You’ll need a moment to rest.”

“We could try?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m interested in just a tight pussy. Tomorrow, breakfast in bed. We’ll go to the park or something. Watch a movie. Doesn’t matter. Just…” he walks back into the bedroom with a warm washcloth. Pressing it up against your tender sex, and moving up to wipe himself off you. “We can just enjoy each other.”

“But I want to have sex with you again,” you beg, tears forming in your eyes. You were going to be trouble. Your legs were still spread as if he was laying in between them. Your hole was spread so wide, but it was those pouting eyes. You had fully trusted him, and was pleading for more. Your pussy showed the signs of him having been seated so deep inside of you.

And it was like you wanted him to have a front row seat to view it. He doubted you were quite as cunning as that. There was still this confusion of not knowing of what to do. Judging by your conversations, you wanted the same things that Andy wanted out of life. Essentially a perfect match.

Andy had to remember that the two of you were still new. He didn’t want to jump in too deep into this relationship, but he could see something becoming more real. He did not feel things this passionately with Laurie. Didn’t have this strong desire to protect her, stay with her, and dote on her like he did you. She didn’t even want kids. Lied to him from the beginning about that.

You sigh softly, curling into his chest, and he holds you so tight. He should have known the second he pushed through your entrance that you were a virgin. The shock on your face, and biting at your lip as your eyes fill with tears. You were something he hadn’t felt before. Petting his hands up and down your back, he knows he could keep you like this forever.

“Andy, I don’t believe in dating around.”

“Don’t worry,” he takes a deep gulp. “I’ve only got time for one person, and she’s laying in my arms,” there was a soft giggle that vibrates his chest, and he pulls you even closer to him. He is sure there would be hell to pay with Poppy tomorrow, but right now, he just wanted to bask in the loss of your innocence glow. The way you randomly kissed over his chest, and your fingers tickle his belly. He could get used to this. He never wanted you to leave. He knew he needed to chill, but he was also going to let you decide what you wanted to do, and it did not appear that you wanted to be anywhere but in his arms. And he was not complaining.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @softsatnin @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @kittycatcait219 @sarahdonald87 @patzammit @elrw24 @redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @calwitch @sebsgirl71479

#a little at a time #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fics #andy barber fic #andy barber smut #chris evans #defending jacob

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liennka · 7 months

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Fromage - part 1

Hannibal Lecter x Will's daughter/teen patient reader

Summary : When Y/N for once arrives early for her therapy, she ends up in a life-or-death situation... (s1 e08)

-> Feel free to insert yourself instead :) This is my first story and I am open to any criticism (be nice pls).

I just wanted to say that I am not the owner of this show, but I did make this story, so don't copy it without my knowledge, thank you.

Y/N was once again sat in the waiting room, awaiting her next session with Doctor Lecter. After some time, she gradually grew fond of her psychiatrist, who wore a “mask”, as she passed time trying to read his mind. It was not an easy task, but her efforts were bearing fruit as she was now able to recognise when he was bored, angry and most importantly, pleased. At that moment she knew he wouldn't be too happy with her early arrival, Hannibal didn't like his patients meeting each other, which was why they all had at least a 30 minute interval between each appointment. But her usual ride couldn't make it, and if she wanted to be on time, she had to take the bus, thus showing up an hour before she should have.

----☆----☆----☆----

It was roughly halfway through the previous session when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Y/N wondered who it could be, as she was Hannibal's last patient for the day. A tall black man in a suit made his way to the Doctor's door, walking slowly and steadily.

Something in Y/N felt wrong, her body hair rising and her mind automatically searching for the nearest exits. And she wasn't naive, it was her gut telling her to run. As much as she wanted to, she was cornered, the man approaching from one door and the other closed, if she tried to interrupt Lecter's session, he would kill her himself.

And when Y/N's chair was only a few meters away from him, she could finally see more details of his face. His dark expression, his dull eyes and the blood on his face. She sniffed and smelt some kind of acid and more blood, probably dried under his fingernails. Thanks to Will, she was more than just an average person, seeing few investigations and knowing the basics of corrupted minds. This man had the aura of a psychopath, the expression of a stoic killer and the smell of a mad scientist, if that wasn't enough she had no idea what was.

----☆----☆----☆----

She didn't knock, just quickly pulling on the doorknob, twisting it, opening the door and closing it right behind her. A man was talking and then suddenly stopped as he saw her. Y/N's body was driven by her adrenaline, not minding the psychiatrist's look of shock and displeasure.

"There is a strange man. Blood on his face and hands," she whispered, her nerves causing her voice to rise an octave.

Before Hannibal could say anything, Y/N retreated from the door and fled towards him. A few seconds after she had moved, the door opened again and that creepy man walked in. Y/N seemed to be the only one who did not know him, as the others quickly rose to their feet. Hannibal hid most of her body with himself, clearly hoping to shield her.

"Tobias?" the smaller chubby man asked, eyes wide.

"I came to say goodbye, Franklin. I just killed two men," Tobias said coolly, some blood dripping from a missing chunk of his ear.

"The police came to question me… " he added, intentionally leaving the sentence unfinished.

She tensed. Will never said where he was going, only telling her about his work when it was over. He himself never knew when Jack would snatch him and force him to solve another case. But this time she knew he was at work, leaving her no choice but to take the bus. And as always, her father would be the one to take care of all the murders in town. There was almost no chance that Will hadn't encountered this man. When Y/N looked at Hannibal, his composed facade was momentarily replaced by an expression of worry. She clutched at his jacket, her palm ruffling the cotton.

"You have to give yourself up, you might still be able to rehabilitate," Franklin pleaded with his friend.

What a bloody idiot, she thought, there was no way Tobias would surrender, Franklin was more than naive, he was suicidal at this point.

"Y/N, I want you to leave with Franklin, n-" Hannibal wasn't able to finish his sentence, but Y/N was swift and had already grabbed Franklin's suit.

"Stay where you are, Franklin!" Tobias said furiously, interrupting Hannibal.

"No, no, no. We.Have.To.Go!" Y/N added weight to each word as she stepped into his field of vision.

Franklin was momentarily flabbergasted, so Y/N took that opportunity and tightly grabbed his arm. But no matter how hard she pulled, Franklin's body wouldn't move, leaving her to try to drag him unsuccessfully towards Hannibal's desk. And then, when she thought he finally changed his mind, he turned around, not quite done with his motivational speech. He stepped back as he mumbled his words, letting her stay behind their doctor’s table. Y/N was done with him. And so was everyone else.

----☆----☆----☆----

“I am not alone,” Tobias replied to one of Franklin's stupid quotes

“That's right, you are not alone, nothing has happened in our real- ” Franklin's neck snapped, Hannibal behind him.

The cracking sound was disgusting, making Y/N glance away. Franklin's body fell to the ground with a 'thud', sprawling his limbs like a puppet.

"I was looking forward to that," Tobias groaned.

"I saved you the trouble," Hannibal smiled.

She was glued to the spot, watching them closely. As expected, Tobias got mad and threw his jacket on the floor. He pulled an iron cord from his pocket, a kind of weapon she had never seen before. He swung it a few times like a jojo, forcing Hannibal to retreat. Y/N made eye contact with her therapist and decided it was time to leave. She backed away to the patient's exit, not taking her eyes off the dangerous man for a second. Tobias tossed the wire at Hannibal and kicked him against the bookshelf. It looked bad for Hannibal, maybe if she was fast enough, she could call police. But only if she gets out first.

----☆----☆----☆----

Y/N had her hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly to prevent any sound from escaping. Much to her bad luck, it clicked and Tobias noticed.

----☆----☆----☆----

#child reader #teen reader #original character #hannibal nbc #will graham #hannibal lecter #short story #story #alternate universe #self insert #female reader #platonic #hurt/comfort #y/n #hannibal

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

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okay, so Raiden Shogun sex-doll? what if the old models were beginning to thin out and to keep up with demand, the Teyvat Company decided to start replicating the dolls/androids from scratch? Now there's the serious (and extreme) setting, Raiden, the stern but kind Ei, and the gentle setting, Makoto.

imagine buying a used shogun model, one of the replica models, which you've been told by the previous owner has some malfunctions. they say that a friend of theirs working for the company was able to give them one of the "defective" ones for cheap or free before it got trashed, that the Makoto setting can't be turned on and only has the Shogun and Ei settings available. When you buy it off them, you think that would be the only issue, until you find out that the Ei setting/personality had somewhat absorbed the previous owner's otaku-like personality and now prefers to stay in the doll's "consciousness", going over downloaded mangas and light novels while the Shogun setting is almost always active (which may be the reason why the previous owner decided to sell her).

From time to time you may see Ei activated late at night, somehow with the knowledge of your laptop password, going online on your computer trying to find new content. If you ever want to activate Ei, you have to coax her out with bribes of sweets and new mangas and light novels that just came out, while the Shogun, who has already gotten attached to you, tries to convince her inside their "consciousness" to not go.

tw - unhealthy relationships, mentions of overstimulation, marking, and possessive behavior.

i think it'd be a little fun if the reader wasn't aware the 'Ei' mode was active at all - so, if they just thought the Shogun was the only functioning setting, and thus, didn't even bother to look into what Makoto and Ei were like or learn how they tended to behave. you're not overly concerned. you've always liked your partners a bit rougher, a little more stoic, so you're more than happy with a hard dom whose idea of aftercare is throwing you over her shoulder and making sure you get a shower, something to drink, and some rest with all the love and care of... well, a robot. having a few other options might be nice, but beggars can't be choosers, and it's hard to be dissatisfied when her hands are on your hips and her mouth is latched onto your neck and you've lost track of whether you're pleading with her to slow down or speed up or stop altogether. it's hard to care about what you don't have when what you do is already more than enough.

but, she does have some strange quirks you can't really explain. the Shogun rarely smiles, programmed to never show any kind of fondness towards her user that's not explicitly asked for or more gentle than a hand on your wrist or an arm dragging you into her lap, and yet, you'll find her sitting on the edge of your bed at night, smiling as she gently cups your cheek. she's supposed to be a little stuck-up, too much of a professional to bother with 'human frivolities', but you've seen her flipping through your light novels, eyeing up your manga collection, occasionally leaving notes for you that are just too... well, anything to really sound like your Shogun. occasionally, something will slip out while you're speared on her fingers or going brain-dead on the new attachment you bought for her last week, something a little too gentle, a little too considerate, and you'll have to wonder what you're really doing - or rather, who you're really with. you've noticed that the Shogun, when she is acting like herself, is a little more hostile, too, a little less willing to comply on the rare occasion you ask her to do something, a little more eager to leave as many marks as she can while you're too blissed-out to stop her. you don't have any other companion droids, so it's not like she can be jealous, and she doesn't really seem to be malfunctioning. it's just...

it's just, she's acting like someone else, and she really, really doesn't seem to like it.

#genshin sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere genshin #yandere raiden shogun #yandere ei

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britcision · 1 year

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Today’s is a little shorter but I think you’ll all forgive me as we dive into… The Inevitable Rogue Attack 😈

It fucking kills me how many people are almost sympathising with Vlad but want Bruce to catch fire, y’all are giving me life and don’t worry, Bruce will not be getting away with his crimes

First:

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The Inevitable Rogue Attack

His kids were rioting. There were giggles, muffled screams, Steph was drumming her hands on the table hard enough to shake the place settings.

And Jason… Jason.

Bruce wasn’t quite sure what to do as Jason made his way back down to his seat, passing behind all three Amity Parkers to get there.

He’d hoped… well. He hoped Jason had understood his meaning. He hadn’t expected the boy to blanche like that, and he’d worried for a second that he’d misjudged.

But no, the smile Jason gave him on the stage was real. Bruce knew every detail of his son’s face, had worked doubly hard to be able to read those expressions when Jason had come back unfamiliar and grown.

There was something he’d missed. Obviously.

But he didn’t know what. Didn’t know what he had expected Jason to do, now that it came down to it. Bruce hadn’t said what he did thinking about Jason’s response.

He didn’t need him to respond at all, he just… he wanted Jason to know he cared. To be sure that Bruce loved him. That Bruce wanted him back.

That he would never be sorry enough for how his mistakes had cost Jason everything. Surely promising that before so many witnesses, so many people would show he meant it?

They’d need to talk. They would always need to talk. And perhaps Jason would talk to Alfred too, and Bruce could ask what he’d done wrong.

He hadn’t expected Jason to fall sobbing into his arms. But the way he’d paled, Bruce’s stomach had dropped like a stone.

Was it really such a surprise to hear him say sorry? Such a shock? Had he failed that much?

Making his way back to his own table, he let his gaze drift from Jason and land on the Manson girl. He was a little surprised to find that she was staring straight back at him, despite the chaos at her table.

Shouldn’t she be focused on Jason? He had just rather publicly expressed his affections, even if he’d been circumspect.

Bruce would have thought she was watching him for his response to that, except that he’d seen Damian look at dogfight ring owners with a warmer expression.

Even as their eyes met, he saw her hand scrabbling side ways, snatching at cutlery and then Danny grabbed it and wrestled it back to the table.

She’d grabbed a knife. He’d have been satisfied in his assessments of her being correct, but who the fuck was Jason hanging out with?

He made it back to his seat, looked over, and she was still watching him. Narrow purple eyes tracking him like she was waiting to pounce.

He’d been stared at at every gala since he was a child.

He’d stared down villains planning to cube him with lasers, while tied to their tables.

Samantha Manson was activating his bat senses. No wonder Jason liked her so much.

Perhaps the Mansons hadn’t been exaggerating the situation… but that still left the question of Danny. The “very important” relationship that Jason claimed was helping the pit.

Danny was supposedly here as Sam’s date too. Could it be an open relationship? Or had Sam and Jason not yet realised he was involved with them both?

Selina’s intel suggested the former, but Bruce would have to observe them more closely to determine which it was. And then there was Tucker Foley…

Tucker had been spending more time with Tim than the other three. Bruce would be relying on him for a debrief later, and his impressions of Masters.

The rest of his children had clearly met Danny as well, and he wished he could have taken at least one of them aside for a report before dinner.

As it was, he likely wouldn’t be able to talk to them until they got home. Perhaps Damian might be persuaded to take a brief break from the rest of the room…

Though his youngest did hate to miss the action. Especially if he perceived something important to be going on, and from the set of his shoulders, he did.

His tension did absolutely nothing to soothe Bruce’s own worries. Nor did reminding himself that Damian may be upset by almost anything.

Damian may still struggle socially, but he was perceptive and excellent at threat assessing. If he was tense, there was a reason.

He was so focused on his childrens’ table that he didn’t even notice Selina on her phone beside him.

Jason slipped back into his seat, feeling much better than he had leaving it. Who knew that getting a little fuckery in would settle him so much?

Well, anyone who’d met him. But other than that.

Dick leaned in before his ass hit the chair, both arms outstretched as if to cradle Jason in them.

“You fucking madlad,” he gasped, eyes bright with laughter and Jason rolled his eyes, grinning even as he slapped Dick’s hands away.

“What, it’s not like you’ve not done worse,” he said off handedly, settling himself in.

Steph was still drumming on the table, finishing up an epic solo by snatching up her knife and tinging it off her glass.

“And that’s the new high to beat on Bruce’s blood pressure chart, ladies and gentlemen, likely possible only through grand larceny!” She declared emphatically, tossing her knife back down.

And apparently inspiring Sam, whose eyes narrowed, still tracking Bruce as she grabbed at the table beside her. Danny, already on guard, leaned away a little.

“Sam, what are you… no Sam no!” He snatched at her arm just as she grabbed his steak knife, pulling it back to the table.

Steph’s brows rose, Dick leaned back a little, and Jason couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“You can’t stab a man at a gala, Damian’s already tried,” Tim put in with a slightly nervous chuckle.

They all seemed to think she’d go for it. Jason, only knowing her slightly longer, was completely sure she’d go for it.

He let his hand fall to cover hers and Danny’s too, squeezing softly. He kinda appreciated having a friend who’d kill for him.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but if Bruce dies tonight Tim inherits a lot more paperwork and he already doesn’t sleep,” he said casually, and Sam’s gaze snapped back to him.

Her eyes narrowed further for a moment and then she huffed, dropping the knife and sinking back in her seat. And still glaring at Bruce over at his table.

“It doesn’t have to be a lethal stabbing,” she pointed out coolly, glaring at her own utensils. Vegetarian options did not usually require steak knives.

A happy coincidence that it kept the sharp knives away from Damian too, really. He had switched from glaring at Danny to glaring at Sam assessingly.

Whatever conclusions he drew, they didn’t come before the waiters arrived, hot food still under cloches.

The table fell quiet for a moment as plates were handed out, and then food inspected. The dining room filled with the clink of cutlery and muted conversation.

Jason’s little stunt was definitely still causing ripples, and he felt a definite self satisfaction grow through him. Fuck Bruce and his surprises.

It was Tucker who brought the conversation back, clearing his throat while the others focused on food.

“So, Sam… on a scale from 0 to public proposals, where does Jason’s little kiss stand?” He asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows from his spot a whole Danny away.

Sam’s glare indicated that might not be far enough. Then she snickered and returned to her plate.

“Zero. We planned to fuck with their heads and we both know what it means, right Jason?” She asked, cocking a brow at the taller man.

Jason shrugged cheerfully, enjoying the way every siblings’ eyes narrowed at her lack of specificity. They weren’t off the fuckery list yet, knowing about Val or not.

“Exactly. Glad you agree though, I wasn’t sure if I should apologise. We didn’t exactly talk about that,” he added when she made a small questioning noise.

Sam shrugged, waving her decidedly blunt knife with mild disdain.

“You’re good. We’re on the same page, I don’t give a shit what anyone here thinks, and it’s gonna make the big explosion all the better.” She sounded distinctly satisfied with this turn of events, so Tucker raised his hands, surrendering.

Dick chuckled softly, shaking his head and digging into his food.

“Not to defend Bruce, but I don’t think he’s emotionally intelligent enough to try and corner Jason into a response,” he pointed out cheerfully and Jason snorted a laugh.

Which became a full laugh when Sam didn’t even glance over.

“Cop opinion, nobody asked.”

Dick pouted and Steph laughed at him, leaning in to continue either the conversation or the bullying. Jason wasn’t quite sure which, because Cass captured his attention with a gentle hand on his arm.

Glancing her way, she gave him a soft smile and signed,

‘Are you okay?’

And yeah. Without the pit’s biting green haze, Jason was a massive fucking sap, apparently. Or Bruce had shaken him more than he thought.

He managed a smile that wasn’t too shaky, signing quickly back.

‘I’m good.’ Not that he need bother, since Cass looked entirely unconvinced.

She didn’t call him on it though, slipping her hand into his and squeezing gently. And that was one of his favourite things about Cass.

Like most of the bats, she never really talked about shit, but in her case? It was often because she didn’t need to. She understood without needing him to find the right words.

Maybe that was why the whole ghost-emotional-language thing wasn’t freaking him out the way it probably should.

Maybe Cass was also part ghost. She’d died before.

And that was something he’d have to ask Danny about. He’d mentioned a “ghost sense” that he and Vlad could use to find each other.

Jason’s almost certainly wasn’t fully developed, just like his core, because to hear Danny tell it he could detect any ghost within a city block. Sometimes further.

Jason’d felt Vlad’s proximity like a chill down his spine right before he walked up so there was definitely something there. Hopefully it’d get stronger with time.

He’d rather have some actual warning before a threat got close, although now that he thought about it…

It had taken until tonight for Jason to really understand that the sense of peace which had washed over him at the graveyard and the coffee shop had been directly caused by Danny’s presence.

That had come long before Danny had been in eyeshot, both times. Maybe tonight Danny’s presence had overwhelmed him, masking Vlad until it was too late?

Or Danny’s was just that much bigger. Either way, Jason wasn’t fully sure it was the same sensation. Part of the same sense.

Vlad’s presence was an icy oil sliming down his back, but Danny’s was all warmth and peace. Could that make sense for a guy with an ice core? Or was there something else?

Part of it was the way the pit quieted, there was still an almost euphoric bliss that came with the lack of bubbling rage. In not being constantly at war inside his head.

Being able to fucking hear himself think. Fuck, the fact that it still felt like a luxury was damn depressing. The idea that one day it might be his normal again…

But it hadn’t been long enough since he’d seen Danny to just be that tonight. The pit had been building, but he’d spent the afternoon hanging out with Frostbite’s plant.

It had been ignorable. As normal as he’d been in the last year. And he’d still felt that warm rush as Danny came down the stairs. The second he saw him things fell into place.

That was probably the ghost sense. And maybe a bit of what Clockwork had told him about being the Fright Knight.

The ghost had said he’d always know if Danny was in danger, so it made sense that being able to see Danny and know he wasn’t in danger would feel good. He was doing his duty.

Definitely all that was.

By the time he’d tuned back into the main conversation, they’d moved back to the inevitable rogue attack. Currently? Betting on who it’d be.

“I could go for a Riddler attack,” Steph mused, waving a forkful of potatoes vaguely. “At least he’d know some riddles to keep us busy til the bats arrive.”

“Yeah, cause he totally cares about entertaining his hostages,” Tim snickered and shook his head. “Riddler’s on the run. Red Robin and Nightwing caught him shipping something explosive into the city. WE did the tech analysis,” he added for their guests.

None of whom looked surprised, which was interesting. Tucker seemed interested, but not concerned.

“Oh, did you get to have a look? I’m not much of a hardware guy beyond this beauty,” he said with a loving look to his PDA, then back to Tim.

Who shrugged.

“Personally? No, but I okayed the lab time and bumped them on the priority list. Some of them were a little close to one of our offices.”

“Risks of working in Gotham,” Dick agreed with a sigh, and this time he even filled in the next part himself, “despite if not because of the presence of the police.” He raised his glass to the table.

Steph and Cass cheered, Cass silently, and even Sam snickered. Cass took the next step though, shifting a little back up the curve of the table so they could all see her hands again.

‘Have not seen Poison Ivy in a while. Never met her.’

Sam sighed at that, raising her glass with a dry smile.

“And you won’t, at least tonight. If there was even a small chance she’d be in Gotham, I wouldn’t be,” she added to the Wayne brood, all of whom looked curious.

Jason could guess.

“Are your folks particularly worried about her?” Dick asked, glancing around for the older Mansons. Sam snorted a laugh but let Danny answer.

“Worried that given half a chance Sam will run away and join her. They’re both what you’d call “aggressive environmentalists”,” he added with air quotes.

Tim cocked a brow, grinning.

“That’s a funny way of spelling “ecoterrorists”,” he pointed out lightly, leaning in. “So how do they know she won’t come? She was in Gotham last I heard.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. None too close to their table; Jason had made it a condition that they not be near enough to talk to any others.

Then she leaned in, the entire table following suit. Danny and Tucker seemed equally curious, which was interesting.

“I’m not supposed to know this, and you can’t tell anyone, alright?” She hissed, and the Gothamites nodded along like each and every one of them weren’t about to run the Mansons down for supervillain connections.

Jason tried not to smirk.

Sam met each of their eyes, then continued, her voice low.

“So Tuck, Danny and I knew Vlad was coming to Gotham. I ran an Ivy check to see if my parents would let me come too, so we could keep an eye on him. And my grandma caught me.”

Tucker and Danny leaned back like this explained everything, eyes wide. Steph leaned in further, half out of her chair.

“What did she do?” She whispered.

Sam grinned.

“She recognised her. She was an activist herself when she was younger, really big on the environmental scene…”

“Ida Manson?” Damian asked sharply, head snapping up. Of course he’d know the most about the old environmentalist circles.

Sam looked mildly surprised but nodded.

“That’s her. She was an “anonymous donor” to Ivy a couple different times and obviously she knows about my parents. So she sent her two hundred grand and schematics to a construction company’s HQ that are bulldozing the Amazon.”

“Are your family all connected to supervillains?” Tim asked, fighting a smile. Sam cocked a brow at him.

“Other than being millionaires? Not really beyond voting for Vlad. Mom and Dad are big in the whole “respectability” thing, they wanna keep the family name as clean as possible.”

“And they don’t get much chance in Amity Park,” Tucker added with a snicker, “our villains aren’t really the kind you can buy.”

Sam hummed an affirmation and Danny made a face. He didn’t want anyone looking too closely into what had happened in Amity Park, but Jason figured it was inevitable.

About time Batman found out what he’d been missing.

All of his siblings looked thoroughly confused now, but Dick voiced the question.

“You guys have villains in Amity Park? More than just Vlad?” He asked carefully, sounding every inch the concerned civilian.

Sam rolled her eyes and laughed, setting down her cutlery.

“Not anymore,” she said dryly, reaching for her drink and raising it in a mock toast. Tucker and Danny copied, clinking their glasses together.

This did not illuminate the others. Or Jason, honestly. He’d seen the database, knew the basics, and knew that with Danny as the next Ghost King, his rogues were out of the picture.

He’d figured out that those dud calls from Amity Park? Never actually duds.

Danny had never asked if he knew about any of them as Robin, from that overlapping year between their deaths. Jason still wasn’t sure what to say if it came up again.

He took part in a confused look exchange with Tim, Dick, and Steph, shrugging to indicate that this really wasn’t something he was already in on. Half true.

Damian broke the short silence this time, glowering at all three.

“What villains are you speaking of? And what happened to them?” He asked curtly, his tone easily carrying his disbelief.

Jason’s eyes moved automatically to Sam, but it was Tucker who fielded this one with a casual shrug.

“Ghosts. We got a portal to the Ghost Zone, lot of ghosts decided they wanted to try and take down the town, and one became our local hero to stop the rest,” he explained like he was talking about mildly unseasonal weather.

Tim suddenly looked much less enamoured with his new bestie. Much more wary and confused.

“You… you’re kidding, right?” He asked half hopefully, and yeah, that woulda been Jason’s response a week ago too.

Today, he snickered and waved a two finger salute at his brother.

“Bud. Sat at a table with a literal zombie,” he added when Tim’s head snapped around. “This is so far from the weirdest shit you’ve heard.”

Tim coloured and huffed, puffing up in his seat.

“Yeah, but seriously Jason? Ghosts? Trying to take over an entire town? Someone must have heard something!”

“We sure tried telling them,” Danny agreed cheerfully, clearing his plate with untroubled enthusiasm. “The town got sucked fully into the Ghost Zone once, we only survived because my family made ghost shields.”

It wasn’t just Tim now, half the table looked utterly poleaxed. The only bat not blankly gaping was Cass, when Jason glanced back at her. And slowly, so did the others.

Cass was watching Danny thoughtfully, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit. Then she gave a small nod.

‘Truth,’ she agreed, and Tim exploded.

“What? No way! A whole American city can’t just pop off the map and not be noticed! Someone would have to know?” He sputtered.

Tucker gave him a sympathetic pat on the hand.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. The federal government invented a whole new department just to keep news from getting out. They’re pretty good too,” he added with a grimace.

Tim gaped at him. Dick, suddenly all business, leaned in with a frown.

“A secret government department dedicated to hiding ghosts?” He asked, and yeah, Jason remembered this from the database.

Seemed that with Cass’s clear, Dick was gonna take this seriously. That was… a little refreshing.

Sam gave him a scathing once over, but clearly decided that bullying hours were on hold.

“They’re technically called the Ghost Investigation Ward. Don’t google it or some extremely unpleasant men in white suits will come along to ask why.”

“If we can’t google it, how do we know you’re telling the truth?” Steph asked, her demeanour equally serious.

The three Amity Parkers exchanged thoughtful looks, then Tucker shrugged and scooted his PDA down the table.

“You can look it up on mine. I’ve cracked their systems before, they can’t backhack me,” he explained when Tim nearly jumped on the device.

A small smile broke through Dick’s serious face as Tim got to work, Steph leaning in.

“Seriously, I know I’m only a cop in Bludhaven, but you guys really like admitting to federal crimes,” he said lightly, driving a steep wedge into the rising tension.

Jason snickered along with Danny and Tucker, nodding to Tim.

“You say, like Tim isn’t probably committing the actual same crime two seats down,” he remarked and Dick actually grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, if he wants to borrow my handcuffs he can just ask, but the work ones aren’t for fun stuff.”

Tim flipped him off without looking as Tucker choked, suddenly very interested in his mostly empty plate. Then Tim looked up, expression grave.

“He’s not kidding. They’re syphoning a ton of federal funding, most of it into Amity Park,” he declared and Tucker leaned in to swipe at the screen.

“Non-Amity Park IPs can’t access any of our weather or news stations either,” he explained casually, like they weren’t uncovering a major scandal.

But then, Jason reminded himself, no one had done anything about this for around six years. Why would that change now?

Steph snagged the PDA this time, scrolling down a couple times then stopping to frown at Danny.

“Why does the weather station have something called Fenton Watch?” She asked and Danny groaned, cheeks flushing.

“Thaaaaat reports if my parents are gonna be on the roads… their bad driving is kinda legendary?” He offered sheepishly as Tucker snickered.

“It’s for the definitely-not-street-legal tank I told you about,” he added for Tim alone.

Before any of the others could jump on that juicy sentence a slender hand landed on Jason’s shoulder.

“Well don’t you all seem to be having fun?” Selina purred, smiling down at the table before leaning in. “I just thought I’d drop by and let you know, darling, I’ve already texted Aunt Harley about Bruce’s little stunt.”

She dropped a gentle kiss on the top of Jason’s head, which was fucking weird but… in a good way, patted his shoulder and moved on.

How the fuck had the pit ever convinced Jason that no one cared about him? Although to be fair, there had been a lot less open affection when people still thought he’d shoot them.

It was just a revelation every time, finally getting to look at these litte gestures, these people as just himself. Less bitter, less angry, less certain it was a lie or a trap.

Part of him didn’t want to lose the way it sent soft curls of affection through all the places anger used to burn. Didn’t want to take any of this for granted.

It had been so, so long since he’d felt like he was actually loved. Before his death even. Fuck, it was something he hadn’t had for most of his life.

It was completely different from just knowing.

He’d known Alfred loved him. Known Dick cared, the way he’d thrown himself headlong into bringing Jason home, no matter how many times he nearly got shot.

Knew Cass and Duke both cared without even the shadow of his death between them. But actually feeling it, warm and golden in his chest?

He hadn’t made it easy for any of them. Had fought against even wanting it for so long, sure he didn’t deserve it. Sure he couldn’t have it, so wanting it would only break him.

But here it was. Even Selina standing up to fight his corner, by using Harley as a weapon if needed.

Harley was probably banned by the Geneva Convention so he wouldn’t hold it against her to keep her own claws clean.

He just. His family cared. Even if all that was hurt was his feelings. That was enough for them to even go against Bruce.

(And fuck he knew how stupid that thought was, each new generation of Robins seemed more likely than the last to call B on his shit.

Damian might be slightly less likely than Steph to say the words “go fuck yourself” but he got the sentiment across.

Jason had called B to task plenty of times when he was being an ass to one of them. It just hit different when it was the other way round.)

Dick and Steph were back on their gleeful bullshit, grinning broadly at Jason even as he had his little moment. He wasn’t even gonna look at the rest of the table.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Steph sang happily, dancing in her seat and beaming across the hall at Bruce.

Sam frowned and looked around the table, the full complement of Waynes all grinning broadly bar one. Damian still mostly looked annoyed by the whole affair.

Which was basically how he smiled anyway.

“Wait, did she just say Harley? Like Harley Quinn?” She asked and yeah, oops, they did have a lot to catch each other up on.

Not today though.

“Pretty sure she’s Harley like the motorcycle,” Tim explained off handedly, shooting his own grin in Bruce’s direction, “you’re never allowed to tell her I said it but she’s a little too old to be called Harley like Harley Quinn.”

Didn’t exactly answer the question, but sounded enough like an answer that it seemed to pass. Jason was a little impressed.

“The effect will be about the same though,” Dick added with a snicker, arm cocked on the back of his chair to grin across at Bruce.

Fuck, had the old man been staring at them this whole time? Delightful. Jason very deliberately Did Not look over, finishing his own meal.

The rest of dinner was more reserved, the bats taking Selina’s intervention as a sign to let the heavy stuff drop. Might as well wait until they could do some more research.

The Amity Parkers followed suit and Cass settled, enjoying the time with her family. Teasing Dick, laughing with Steph, and Jason.

She could still see the tension in him, the same as Jason had always had, for as long as she’d known him. Could almost feel the pieces of him that twanged with every move.

She had never seen him seem so… free. He’d been getting better, letting her and Duke and Steph persuade them he was still family. That he was wanted.

It had made parts of the tension worse, and he’d carried himself every day with the fear that he’d hurt them. That they’d change their minds.

She still felt the same fear, sometimes. Knew there was nothing to be done for it but wait for him to come back, hold him close, and not let him push her away.

Because Jason could hurt them. Any of the bats could do serious damage, but most of them not by accident.

Jason lived every day with a weight around his neck, chained to the knowledge that all it’d take was one surge of the pit.

One break in his control and he might hurt one of them in ways nobody could fix.

Cass couldn’t imagine living with that kind of weight. She’d known she was a weapon, raised and trained to violence so she could be pointed and released.

Her father had never understood that she was still the one in control, not him. That she’d obeyed because she chose to, because she loved him, because she craved affection.

That she could walk away as easily as she had, find another family who would love her, and understand that there were… gaps inside her.

Places where she still didn’t know what fit. What to do, what to say when things were hard and her throat got tight. What to do when she messed up and hurt someone.

But at least she knew it would only be her words. Her actions. The hurt she made might be deeper for it and she was still so scared it might one day be too much, but…

She’d never see their blood on her hands.

Jason still did, sometimes. She’d see it when he looked at Tim and his throat closed up. When he stopped breathing for way too long.

When they’d all be teasing him, watching closely, weighing the green in his eyes, and he’d go to snap back at Tim and bite his tongue so hard it bled.

Cass hadn’t been there. Hadn’t seen how bad it had gotten, when Jason first came back. And maybe that was a blessing because she couldn’t have fought him.

Seeing the pain that still wound through him was enough to choke her. Seeing it then, when Bruce refused to believe it was him, Tim’s throat in his hand?

When the pit had his ear, all rage and hate and betrayal?

Her family had nearly broken before she got back. There had nearly been nothing for her to return to.

Instead, she’d come back to a stalemate. Jason’s rage tempered, forced solely onto Bruce while he fought himself to keep the rest of them out of it.

To a new brother, if one who demanded they stay out of his side of the city, who’d fire a shot if they broke his rules.

And maybe it was the same fear, that looming dread that one day she’d hurt them too that had pulled her to him. To reassure herself that even with all he’d done, Jason was still there.

To reassure Jason that there was nothing he could do to lose his family. If they could accept her, gaps and all, they would find space for him.

Maybe it was their shared time with the league, finally free enough to exchange what words they had.

Cass could read anyone. Oh, it wasn’t a science; body language was an art, every subtle twitch and motion possibly meaning a million things, different to each individual.

It took a little time to work out anything beyond the broad strokes, to observe and understand what each person meant by the smaller gestures.

Pain was easy. Physical or emotional, it did a couple things every time. Tension, aggression, training. The things she’d needed when violence was her only language.

Happiness was harder. Worry, stress, the things behind those were still tricky for her to nose out, but she was learning when to push and when not to.

She didn’t always know why, but that was what her words were for.

Jason hadn’t taken any time at all. He’d been as trained by Bruce as any of them, gone through all the rigorous exercises to control himself, hide any traces of emotion if needed.

Cass could never fully put her finger on why it just… didn’t work. Jason could do a poker face better than anyone she knew. Could lock every muscle, go still as stone.

He’d never have survived the league if he couldn’t. And yet she’d just look at him even when the pit wasn’t in control, when rage hadn’t stripped him back to nothing at all, and it was just…

Written all over him. Every worry, every stress, every half smothered moment of hope. She’d taken one look at him in the league and Known him.

It felt like he knew her too, in ways that no one but Damian got close to. Knew the weight of her past, the weight of her mistakes, and how much it burdened her.

He’d come back on the 25th changed, happy in a gentle way, the barest lines of pit rage left. And then the day after Danger Twink there he was again; moving light as air with that choking tension gone.

The longer she saw him with Danny, the more certain she was.

Jason had never been in less danger in his life. Danny had that same air of death, but he was also more alive than anyone she’d ever seen.

And he’d give his right arm if it kept the people around him safe.

It was kind of funny, really. Just like Jason, Danny was surprisingly easy to read.

Oh, young people tended to telegraph more, their emotions writ loud, and she had a good read on Sam and Tucker already. But just like Jason, there was no element of guesswork with Danny.

She didn’t have to wait and keep watching or check her results. It was just… obvious. Heart on his sleeve, even when they talked about the dangers of home.

She could almost feel his curiosity lapping at the edge of her awareness as desserts were brought out, even without looking at him.

She kept to the curved end of the table though, so the rest of them could see her more easily. It still felt… strange doing that. Making herself noticeable.

Even as she’d gotten used to talking, with her hands or with her mouth, she still had trouble with the idea of standing out. Making herself noticeable.

And of course at galas, she usually didn’t even let on she could sign. It was possible that game was up, but anyone else who knew sign was probably less likely to be an ass about her needing it.

But her family wanted to know what she had to say. Valued her input, even for unimportant things. And if Jason had to practice letting them love him, she had to practice letting them hear her.

Metaphorically, sometimes. They didn’t seem to mind.

And she was having more fun than she’d expected tonight. She enjoyed recon, gathering information, but she was enjoying just talking to Sam and Danny too.

They fit with Tucker the way Tim fit with his Young Justice friends. Confident, sure of themselves and their connection.

She’d like to see them in action, although probably not tonight. Not everyone brought their heroing gear to fancy parties. Although most people did in Gotham.

Tonight’s event had been quiet so far if Vlad didn’t count.

It wasn’t destined to last.

The dining hall had mostly emptied out, the party moving back into the main hallways when a dozen windows shattered.

Guests didn’t so much scream as gasp in surprise, although one young woman sounded distinctly angry as a spray of glass splashed into her new drink.

Cass still wasn’t sure she approved of the hall’s sugar-glass as opposed to bulletproof strategy, but she could appreciate the effect.

Just like the movies, the crash and scatter were very impressive, with very little chance of actually hurting anyone.

Personally Cass thought a few more rogues could do with slamming face first into bulletproof glass.

It might not deter the attacks, but it’d either dampen the enthusiasm or bring out the bazookas. Either way, heavier weapons came off the streets.

She was a little surprised to see Killer Croc bursting through the large double doors though. Not quite enough to pause on her way to a dark corner, but she noted it.

He usually preferred to stick to overt mobsters rather than dirty his teeth on Gotham’s elite. Luckily, he wasn’t the type to leave anyone guessing.

“Where the fuck is Harvey Dent?” He roared, grabbing an attendant by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

Cass’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the number of assailants, the question marks on their suits. Riddler must not have been as down as Tim assumed, and that could be bad news.

On the other hand, if Riddler was here they’d know by now.

She’d lost most of the others when the crowd surged together, contracting, and finally reached up to push a comm into her ear. Heard Sam yell in the background.

“CASS!”

And felt her chest compress for just a moment.

She’d seen Sam Manson at galas before, two or maybe even three times. She’d always seemed annoyed, resentful, angry underneath that pretty smile.

They’d exchanged nods. Waves. Nothing that should have Sam screaming for her when trouble finally broke.

Then there were other screams, and Cass has to fight a smile. No, Sam wasn’t scared for her. Sam sounded absolutely fucking furious.

Her parents must have been right to worry too, because from the sound of it she’d taken it out on whichever unfortunate body Cass had used to slip away.

She’d have felt bad if she was less certain Sam would have loved to deck anyone at the gala anyway. It was a little sweet that she’d been clocked as a civilian.

Someone to protect. That might be nice one day.

Sam was still swearing to beat the band, audible even as the goons tried to gather the fragmenting crowd together.

Cass skidded under a refreshment table, comm in her ear coming to life.

“Report.” Bruce. Not doing the Batvoice, so somewhere in the pile. Possibly intentionally, if Croc was after Dent.

“Out,” she hissed, sticking to the edges of the room as she let her suit blend her into the shadows. Much easier than dresses, whatever Steph said.

“Out,” came Tim’s voice, sounding a little rushed. Sloppy.

“Out,” Steph called, and Cass was a little surprised at that. The other girl had been close to their civilians too, and she hadn’t thought they’d both make it undetected.

“In,” Dick whispered, voice barely audible. But Cass could hear Sam still yelling when his comm picked up, “With Manson, lost Hood.”

So. Not as undetected as all that.

“Out,” Damian huffed, sounding thoroughly annoyed with all of them. More so a moment later when Cass slipped into the same shadow. “Amateurs.”

Jason just grunted, obviously not in a position to subvocalise. Obviously still in.

A bare second for analysis, then-

“Nightwing. Leave your civilian with Hood and extract. Hood, remain engaged. Eyes on Jason Todd-Wayne.”

Which, to a listening stranger, would sound like a protection order instead of what it was; a reminder that Jason in particular was being watched.

Jason couldn’t have put a more articulate “fuck you” into the words themselves as he grunted again, still deep in the crowd.

Poor Jason. He always hated being the one to be rescued.

Too bad for him Cass quite liked the chance to do it. Red Hood was just so big and tanky, everyone expected him to come charging to the rescue.

Swooping in to save his day was extra fun because of that. He couldn’t even hide his pout behind his helmet in civilian clothes.

Cass and Damian made their way to the back rooms, dodging goons who must have come in through the windows here.

They were still sweeping the halls, grabbing any guests who’d managed to get out of the main halls and muscling them back in.

It was easy for the bats to duck into one of the cleared rooms. Both shucked their suits to reveal their night gear, Damian pulling his cape and domino from a concealed wall safe.

Cass just needed her mask, which fit inside her Black Bat suit pocket beneath the main suit. She wasn’t surprised Damian had been layering too.

Most of the bats did, or at least kept a domino on them for plausible deniability. After all, it wasn’t called the surprising or unexpected rogue attack.

Both now fully suited up, Cass and Damian exchanged looks.

‘Ready?’ Cass asked, and Damian tutted.

“Fenton is a meta,” he reaffirmed, eyes narrowing behind him domino. Cass ruffled his hair and headed for the door.

“Agree,” she reassured him softly, and felt him startle. Poor kid. Damian had plenty of his own issues around being heard. Belonging. “Best not out.”

His brows furrowed and he rolled his arms, but followed.

“Todd needs to know what he’s dealing with,” he grumbled as they listened at the door.

Cass kinda wished she’d left a mouth on her mask, but the reasons not to had outweighed letting the others see her smile. They could usually tell anyway.

“Disappeared together,” she reminded Damian softly instead, attention now split to the hall outside. Things were quieting down.

Damian’s pout grew more pronounced, then he shook himself and refocused.

“Perhaps we will see what he is made of now,” he mused under his breath.

Cass considered reminding him that it might not be safe for Danny to use whatever meta abilities he had, but decided not to. After all, her family more than proved that there were people out there who didn’t much care for “safe”.

It was also their job to make sure no one else had to put themselves in harm’s way. Even if they were curious.

Pushing out into the hall, she and Robin took the high road.

Still buried in the middle of the crowd, Dick kept a hand on Sam’s shoulder as they were buffeted around. Keeping them together, as close as they could.

He might have worried about doing it except that she, clearly also used to rogue attacks and crowd control, had wrapped his tie around her fist like she had him on a leash.

Yeah, he kinda fucking loved Sam Manson. Perfect little sister vibes.

He’d managed to get his earpiece in undetected, taking advantage of her telling off some unfortunate soul who’d cut between her and Cass.

They were all being herded towards the dining hall again now, surrounded by a circle of goons and prodded as Croc’s yells directed them.

“Everybody shut the fuck up and stick together! We’ll be out of your hair just as soon as we have all your valuables and that little fucker Dent!”

Dick was pretty damn sure he saw the same lady who’d been talking to them when Vlad showed up slip earrings, bracelet, and her fucking phone into that silly fan.

Apparently it wasn’t just a weirdly anachronistic accessory. Good for her.

Through the doors he could see the henchmen beginning to split the crowd into smaller groups, grabbing and pushing and fuck, he’d have to drop Sam off before reaching that.

Luckily he was pretty sure he could already see Jason, and he leaned into Sam’s ear.

“Look, I’ll be able to look for Cass better on my own, they’re splitting us up and I don’t want her on her own. Can I drop you with Jason and the guys? So I can tell Cass you’re okay,” he added quickly when her head snapped round, eyes narrowed.

She studied his expression for a moment then snorted, digging into a very well concealed pocket in her skirt and pulling out what looked a lot like a tiny taser.

He was gonna get Steph the name of her dressmaker. If they didn’t already use the same one.

“Whatever. This’ll help you get through the crowds, I can get to the guys,” she grumbled back, not quite shouting over the noise of the crowd.

Dick gave her his best apologetic grin, and took the taser to see what it’d do. Always nice to see a new toy.

“Cass’ll have my ass if she even thinks I left you with some of these creeps so unless you have-” before he could finish the sentence Sam had already pulled out a second, larger taser.

She gave him the baby one.

Stifling a laugh, he checked on Jason’s position again, noted the three people between them, and gave Sam a gentle nudge in the right direction.

“Alright, alright, you’re clearly more prepared than me, but we’re nearly there so jet.”

Sam gave him a sarcastic half smile, the man behind her jumped about a foot in the air, and Dick flicked his comm.

“Hood, confirm receipt,” he hissed, sticking close until he got another confirming grunt from Jason.

Then he made his way to the edge of the crowd, tucking his shoulders in to shrink his silhouette. A guy couldn’t hang out with Superman and Clark Kent without learning a few things.

It was a little closer than he’d have liked, but he managed to duck into a shadow just before crossing through the dining room doors.

A pair of goons hurried to close the party inside and he hurried to find a good spot to change. And a thought struck him.

“Hey, anyone think it’s too late to page in Signal?”

A series of muffled giggles and gasps came back, mostly muted, and Bruce sighed heavily.

“Fine. Going dark, coordinate yourselves around Red Robin.”

Someone must have decided to fish Bruce Wayne out of the crowd. Hoping Jason wasn’t too close, Dick pulled out his phone and a domino from separate pockets.

Duke might get to meet Danny in person after all. It was only 8pm.

Oh, and there was one more thing.

“Manson gave me a new taser.”

Jealous grumbles filled the air and Dick grinned as he stashed his jacket and tie.

“She also kept a bigger one for herself. We’ve got some spicy civilians today,” he commented cheerfully, testing the weight of the new taser as he moved to the windows.

Very nice, small and sleek and light, in a white and green scifi design. Just the thing some rich society types might give their little girl to keep her safe in Gotham.

Maybe he’d even get a chance to use it; escrima sticks did not fit well under tight trousers. Oh, there was a pair hidden, but where was the fun in that?

And maybe if he was extra lucky, Sam’d let him take a look at the bigger one after the fun was over. Preferably not on the receiving end.

Gotham was… confusing. Vlad didn’t know what to make of it.

These people were so damn scandalised by him putting a gentle hand on a young adult, yet armed goons and some form of crocodile man were apparently completely normal.

Oh, there was the odd cry, the occasional scream as a couple of hundred members of Gotham’s high society were pushed around, but from the quiet chatter surrounding him, this sort of nonsense was expected.

Amity Parkers reacted more than this to ghost attacks, and no one was ever seriously hurt during those. Not a lot more, obviously, but still.

He was almost becoming annoyed.

If he didn’t have his ghost sense he might have thought this “Killer Croc” was a ghost of some kind. He had that love of drama, the need for noise and attention.

It made Vlad think of Skulker really. Still, it was almost nice to know that the living could be just as dramatic. Ghosts had to come from somewhere after all.

Vlad could tolerate a little drama in other people, but he certainly had no time for it himself.

None at all.

Nope.

Still, there was something decidedly amusing about the whole situation. With the barest fraction of his powers he could likely deal with the whole crew.

Hells, they were few enough it’d hardly been a strain to overshadow every single one of the three dozen or so goons.

But that wouldn’t be fun now would it?

From what his neighbours were saying, though still none directly to him, the end result of these little messes was as predictable as the event itself.

Gotham had so many masked vigilantes at least one or two were sure to be close, and then the evening could continue. Perhaps a pause to redistribute valuables.

Personally, Vlad would prefer Gotham’s vigilantes take their time to show up. He’d been on the receiving end of Daniel’s heroic tendencies plenty of times.

It would be quite entertaining to be the one being saved. They’d all been separated into groups of fifteen, each with their own goon minder holding out what Vlad was sure was a fucking pillowcase for valuables.

A pillowcase. It didn’t even have handles. Yes, definitely better treat this as an amusing diversion because otherwise he’d have to be insulted.

Still, Vlad was content for now to sit on the floor, eyes scanning the room mostly patiently for his little badger.

That green scaly gentleman was stalking between the clusters of guests, ranting and raving about this “Dent” he was looking for.

Vlad doubted he’d get results, but perhaps once this whole mess was tidied up he would look into acquiring his services. Depending on how well he did when things got… messy.

He wasn’t paying him much mind at the moment though, because he’d just caught sight of a familiar flash of white hair.

Just Jason. No Phantom yet, but that was fine. And what a fun potential opportunity to see what their new halfa was like under pressure…

And as expected, there was Daniel, tucked close to the boy’s side. Still with Samantha and Tucker too, which was sure to make Daniel happy.

Adjusting himself more comfortably, Vlad settled in to wait. Daniel would make some sort of move soon. He was dimly aware that Brucie Wayne had just been pulled from the crowd.

Sam leaned in over Danny’s left shoulder, keeping her voice low.

“So Vlad’s fucking staring at us across the hall like the biggest creep on earth,” she hissed, and Danny automatically almost jolted to look.

Caught himself just in time. Leaned back against her, most of his attention still on Killer Croc.

“Think he had anything to do with this?” He asked under his breath, his gaze now meandering slowly across the other groups.

Yup, there was Vlad. Staring straight at him. Smiling when their eyes met, before Danny’s could dart away.

Ew.

“Does he look super expectant to anyone else?” Tucker whispered from behind them. Jason let out a soft growl, probably without even thinking about it.

Danny slipped a hand into his, squeezing gently.

Calm-relax-help is coming

Was not quite prepared for the shock that flashed back before Jason got it under control.

Jason hadn’t officially told Danny that the other Waynes and associates were the bats yet. He kinda didn’t have to.

Even if Jason had left the life after his death, that didn’t mean the family had. Still, it also wasn’t Jason’s secret to share, so Danny pretended to ignore it.

Much more productive to try and work out what the fuck Vlad’s angle was. Some kind of trick where he could play the hero and cozy up to Bruce?

Could he have orchestrated an attack with some of Gotham’s rogues? So far all of Croc’s demands had been for valuables and Harvey Dent, whoever that was.

There were surprisingly few actual valuables forthcoming too. Danny and Sam had obediently dropped their phones into an offered pillowcase, and wrestled Tucker’s precious PDA from his fingers.

The question mark guy had taken one look at it and tossed it back, declaring it junk. Aaaand Danny had shoved a fist into Tucker’s mouth while Sam reminded him that if he defended Ida’s worth, they’d take her.

He still wasn’t happy, but he had her in hand so he’d settled a lot more easily than the alternative.

Still, none of the pillowcases were really bulging, which was kinda weird. Most of the jewellery that had been on prominent sparkly display had kinda vanished when the windows shattered.

Some bigger pieces had been handed over, but Danny would swear the tiny harmless old lady in their group had had full bangles, necklace, earrings, and six rings on top of the ornate hair comb she’d handed over.

Weirder still, the goons seemed more annoyed than surprised.

“C’mon, don’t make me shake your fucking pockets out,” their guy growled, sending a kick at a young man near the edge of their circle. “Phones, wallets, jewellery, now!”

A single phone was passed up. An utterly unbelievable four from a group of fifteen. Danny raised his hands, trying to keep his Obsession on the back burner.

This wasn’t his city. Not his job. And if he changed to fight these guys, he’d be putting his friends in danger.

That last part was carrying most of the weight, honestly. And he’d finally lost his No Rogues streak.

Bummer. He’d been going for a campus record.

For tonight though, he could also distract himself with what the fuck Vlad was up to.

Pillowcase might be the one tossing his weight around, but long experience had taught Danny that he couldn’t protect anyone if he got caught in Vlad’s machinations.

That knowing little fucking smirk on Vlad’s face when their eyes met. The fucker was up to something, Danny knew it.

Well, there was one way to work out what. Glancing over at Jason, Danny made a face.

He’d understand. And maybe Danny could warn him a little better this time? Cuz if he got that overwhelmed every time, it’d be a real problem when they started training.

Then again, Danny had had a hard enough time with strong auras when he first got started, and he’d had a full core. Jason didn’t and Danny was… well, a lot bigger than Skulker or Technus.

Also Jason was still holding his hand. Which he had completely forgotten. Yup, his focus was totally great today.

He leaned in towards Jason instead, trying not to get differently distracted by the large man’s tension. Lots of muscles, well fitted suit, it would happen to anyone!

Except him. Today. Because there was a problem.

“Hey… I’m gonna try and get a read on Vlad, but that means I’ve gotta extend again. You good?”

It took every single second of every one of his four years with the League of Assassins to stop Jason flushing cherry red.

Great.

Best evening ever.

Highlight of his life.

His fucking king was checking if he was gonna pop a boner if he did some intel. Maybe he shoulda just fucking stayed in his damn grave.

It Did Not help that he could feel Danny’s concern creeping along the back of his neck like the lightest touch. Although…

Brow furrowing a little, Jason tried to chase down the feeling. Better than dealing with his own emotional state, which was Not Going There.

Danny felt… worried? About him? Not in the totally mortifying way Jason expected either. This felt almost soft.

Like he worried Jason might be hurt or upset if he did it.

There was a chance Danny hadn’t noticed.

Jason had been overwhelmed by Frostbite in the Far Frozen, it’d be a perfect cover if Danny hadn’t noticed the… key difference between the two.

Although the distinct amusement he could feel radiating off Sam suggested that she might have. Great again.

Since when could he feel human emotions?

How sure was he that Sam was still just human. She wasn’t a halfa, that was clear because there was no way Danny and Vlad could have missed it.

There were a lot of things between living and dying though. Jason was beginning to wonder just how many of them toed the edge of that particular line.

For now, he cleared his throat and tried to work out how best to seem like a totally-not-turned-on-by-your-looming-presence-in-my-every-breath guy.

Maybe it’d be better if he knew what to expect.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

In all his years as a halfa and eventually the king of ghosts, Danny had never actually felt someone just turn themselves off before.

Jason’s aura shut down like he’d flicked a switch, his face suddenly completely unreadable. It was fucking weird, the sudden void where he’d been used to ignoring a background hum.

Maybe he’d fucked Jason up worse than he’d thought before. All those thoughts and feelings could be overwhelming, and Danny had tried not to send any messages beyond his presence, but…

His fucking presence was kind of a lot these days. Even he didn’t know how loud it’d get, it had been a long time since he’d faced down Pariah Dark.

And that had been a life or death situation. He’d been ready to deal with it. He’d kinda sprung this on Jason today.

Fuck, just the thought he might have hurt Jason twanged on the strings currently pulled taught by his Obsession. Made him want to wrap the other halfa up and Protect him from the world.

Which was exactly the thing that’d hurt Jason in the first place. No way he’d wanna deal with that again.

He was about to apologise for even mentioning it when he felt Jason slowly open up. Reaching back, probing and…

Danny didn’t try and look. Didn’t want to know what his words had caused which made the other man do That.

He didn’t need to though. Embarrassment-worry-hope spilled from that questing contact, and Danny made a specific effort not to think about it.

Jason was a big guy. Big and strong and clearly worked for his strength. Being caught in any moment of weakness probably sucked for him.

Hard to relate to, since even though Danny was technically the biggest and scariest fish in the whole damn ocean, he’d been a scrawny little fuck for his entire full life.

He’d been ground in the dirt long after he’d had the strength to stop it, and feigning weakness had kinda kicked that whole ego thing in the ass.

It helped when he was having to relive his most embarrassing highlights to prepare Jason for the “fun” of developing halfa powers.

Relief came through loud enough that Danny nearly smiled, nearly sent something back to reassure him, but he held off. It… didn’t feel intentional?

And yeah, very normal that Jason hadn’t liked the near-telepathy Danny’s empathy gave him into his thoughts and feelings before. It was invasive.

Buuuuut that worked for him when the one he was invading was a creepy old fuck with the occasional world domination scheme.

He glanced up when Jason cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

Danny wasn’t gonna insult him by calling him a liar. Closing his eyes, he did his best to tamp down his presence and just reach across the hall.

Watching their whispered discussion with interest, Vlad almost wished he could hear them. Or spread his own energy the way Daniel could, far enough to read them from a distance.

That must have been what they were discussing though, because a moment later he could feel the stroking Presence of Daniel across his very soul.

Let the boy look. He had nothing to hide.

Danny’s eyes snapped open, blatantly dumbfounded.

“He’s fucking waiting for me to rescue him,” he hissed, almost loud enough to attract their goon’s attention.

Luckily another couple were busily insisting they simply did not own a cellphone. In Gotham city. In this day and age.

Just tell the guy to go fuck himself why don’t you.

None of the others seemed to know what to do with Danny’s revelation, though Jason’s lips pressed into a very thin line.

Danny would put money on repressing laughter.

Sam seemed to be on the same wavelength, brightening up and leaning in to Danny’s other ear.

“Wanna save literally anyone but him?” She murmured under her breath, glancing around the room.

Danny clapped a hand over his mouth ahead of any wayward giggles.

“SAM. There are bats about!” He hissed through his fingers and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah so stay Fenton. You could still punch Killer Croc, it’s not like he has ectoblasts.”

Why did she have a point.

Why was Jason suddenly grinning at him, so bright with glee-mischief-fuckery Danny didn’t even need his aura to see it.

“Danny. Remember what my brother called you?” He asked quietly, leaning in almost close enough to be… distracting. Which was totally the only reason it took Danny a moment to twig.

Longer than Tucker anyway.

“Danger twink,” the Black man whistled with a wicked glee of his own. A grin spread across Danny’s own face.

“Oh… hell yes.”

As usual, Bruce found himself in a position to fully agree with his children.

Galas sucked.

Of course, that wasn’t unique to this one. He felt the same way most of the time. He understood the importance of keeping up appearances, but he’d rather spend the night asleep if he couldn’t be working.

Usually, the rogue attack was a pleasant diversion. A chance to watch his family at work. Bruce didn’t mind playing hostage for them.

Today, he was just frustrated.

He needed to talk to Jason. Needed to catch up with Tim, get whatever intel he’d acquired. Needed to get Jason away from this Danny and keep him safe.

The Riddler’s men pulling him from the crowds while they split them into manageable chunks was unfortunately expected. Brucie’s friendship with Harvey Dent was well known.

As little as he liked it, Batman preferred having some control of the situation. What he couldn’t understand was why Killer Croc and Riddler would both think Harvey was here.

Croc could sometimes be reasoned with, he’d gotten away from the Gotham nightlife more than once, but he kept being pulled back in.

Tonight did not seem to be one of his good nights.

Brucie fixed his best smile in place as the scaled man bellowed at him.

“We’re gonna find yer pal Dent, Brucie! Just give him up!”

Luckily, he’d put a lot of work into making Brucie as vapid as possible.

“Gee, it’s a surprise to see you here today, Mister Croc. I heard you had moved to Coney Island to do shows, I was really looking forward to bringing my kids down to see you,” he said cheerfully, like they were catching up in a cafe.

Croc was not amused. Yellow eyes narrowed.

“An’ now I’m here, and the only person I wanna see is that half barbecued mess you call a friend,” he growled, grabbing the front of Brucie’s shirt and shaking him roughly.

Bruce let himself flop, eyes going wide and terrified.

With any luck, Kane would be busy on the other side of town. He’d rather be able to check in with her later about the whole Danny scenario, her opinion unbiased.

“I’m sorry sir but I don’t think I can help you,” he gasped, hands coming up to clutch Croc’s, “Harvey isn’t here.”

That made the man stop, those slit pupils dilating as he squinted down into Brucie’s face. He did his very best wide eyed, empty headed socialite back.

He seemed to be coming to a conclusion as one of the Riddler’s men stepped up, holding up a tablet. On screen, there was the Riddler, idly spinning his cane.

“How goes the man hunt, Croccy?” He asked over the speakers, barely glancing at the man in his grasp.

Killer Croc examined Brucie for a moment longer, then snorted and dropped him. Brucie dropped to the floor, gasping for air and keeping at an angle where he could see the screen.

Had Riddler’s new bombs been intended for the gala all along? Or was this retaliation for the warehouse raid?

“He ain’t here yet,” Croc grumbled, and Bruce noted that for later.

Had Harvey been planning to attack the gala? As always with Two Face, it’d be a coin toss. The bats hadn’t heard that he was planning anything, but that didn’t always mean he wasn’t.

Riddler tutted softly, still spinning his cane.

“Well, we have time to wait. Are all the guests ready?”

His goon turned obediently, panning the tablet’s camera around the room. Brucie let himself drop slightly further back to keep the screen in sight, laying on the floor.

“Excellent.” Riddler sounded satisfied, which probably wasn’t good. “Croc!”

The goon turned again, bringing the camera back to face Killer Croc. Bruce was familiar enough with his face to see the reluctant tick of a smirk at the corners of his mouth.

It wasn’t exactly a dignified job, being the tablet bearer. Still, it did put this man lower on the priority list for his children to take out, so it had advantages.

“Yeah, yeah,” Killer Croc grumbled, also turning back to the room at large, and Bruce tensed. He was losing their interest.

“If Harvey-” he was cut off by a casual kick from Killer Croc, not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that he had no choice but to crumple around it.

Batman could tank a hit. Brucie couldn’t be allowed to look even half as capable.

And then his heart froze in his chest as Croc bellowed to the rest of the room.

“Where’s the man of the hour?”

In the shadows of the ceiling, Nightwing, Spoiler, and Red Robin froze as one. Black Bat and Robin were mapping the perimeter, checking the number of goons and any extra defences before Signal arrived.

Sharing a quick set of worried glances, Nightwing swung lightly across the hall to get a better look at the tablet. Tapped at his comm.

“Odds they want anything good with Jason?” He asked in a whisper, grimacing when Spoiler and Red Robin shook their heads as one.

Yeah. He figured.

“Odds we can move in now and get it over with?” Not that he expected them to be high.

Spoiler held out a hand palm down and wiggled it from side to side. Before any of them could speak, Robin commed in.

“Negative. There’s another dozen of Riddler’s men out here, setting up some sort of machine. It seems you caught the very tail end of his efforts,” he added with a disdainful scoff.

A grin tugged at Nightwing’s lips as Red Robin visibly twitched.

“That or he’s retaliating for his latest plan being foiled,” he offered cheerfully.

He didn’t particularly have any investment in them not having taken Riddler out of the picture; the man himself wasn’t in Arkham, so he’d assumed he’d be back.

Maybe not this soon, but Nigma could be volatile if his careful preparations were disturbed. And since he also wasn’t here…

“Something’s wrong either way, Riddler loves being on scene far too much to stay in the shadows,” Red Robin hissed, eyes still darting around. “He’d want to send a taunt to the Bats.”

“He’s gonna be real disappointed that we’re all here already if he’s posted up somewhere else,” Spoiler pointed out with a slight smirk, glancing around the hall. “Should we ask Signal to hold back?”

“Hey, you got me out of bed for the Danger Twink,” Signal cut in, just a hint of a grunt indicating he was already on his way.

“Batwoman and Bluebird can hunt him down if the taunt comes,” Red Robin cut them both off, brows furrowed in that all too familiar calculating frown.

Which, yeah. It’d be bugging him way more than Nightwing that something was off with the rogues’ behaviour. Red Robin liked knowing everything about everyone, all the time.

Nightwing didn’t mind switching it up, though every bat knew how to roll with the punches.

The lack of a puzzle was odd though. Riddler usually didn’t move in public until he had at least something ready to share.

Reaching up, he tapped his comms.

“Hey Robin, any chance you can get a closer look at what they’re setting up? See what we’re gonna be dealing with before Puzzle Quest starts?”

Robin just sounded impatient, flicking his own comms loud enough they all heard the impact.

“That is what I am doing. Thus far it seems rather basic. No recording or transmitting equipment.”

Which meant that either Riddler was set up to broadcast somewhere else, or this really wasn’t his operation. But what would Riddler have to gain from working with Killer Croc?

Or were they both just looking for Two face?

Too many questions, and they weren’t likely to get the answers without at least two of the rogues in question. Hopefully someone else would get their hands on Riddler, if he wasn’t coming personally.

Maybe it wasn’t great that more than half the family were on site. Fucking typical that this would be the first rogue attack ever without the rogues physically present.

Red Robin’s head rose, and Nightwing settled into position to wait. Time for the plan.

“Black Bat, finish your sweep and let us know if there’s anything else being set up on site, Spoiler go to join her. Signal, sweep the outer perimeter when you arrive, be on the watch for Riddler himself or more goons.”

Spoiler nodded, making her way from the hall through the chandelier maintenance hatch. Red Robin looked across at Nightwing, and he gave him a thumbs up.

“I’ll get a little closer and see if I can’t get an eye on that screen while you hack the feed?” He asked, and grinned when Red Robin shot him a grateful smile.

It was hard for any of them to keep up when Tim fell into his full planning mode, whether they were masked or not. Any time he didn’t have to spell things out he was happy.

Nightwing never held it against him. The kid could leave Batman spinning his wheels and he’d been frustrated often enough when he had to explain his plans to the Teen Titans.

Knowing that everyone in the room was smart and capable did not help when you were talking at cross purposes.

Tonight, he attached a line to one of the ornate pillars along the walls and lowered himself down into the shadows of one of the draped blue hangings.

If nothing else, it gave him a good view as Jason was pulled from his little group.

Little Wing looked… well, not that they’d expected him to look terrified or even particularly concerned, but he looked seriously amused by the situation.

This should be good.

It wasn’t that Jason had been expecting to be singled out. As far as most of the rogues knew, the Waynes were just another one of the richest families in town.

Good to shake down for cash, but not usually of any special interest. He was pretty sure most of the rogues couldn’t even name half the adopted kids.

So being called out by Killer Croc? Not expected. That it had happened literally right after he and Danny had been discussing plans to start shit?

Incredible. 10/10, Croc was moving up on his favourite villain list. He’d always been high, but this might do it.

It helped that the rush of Danny’s Presence had been more manageable this time. Whether it was having been warned or just experiencing it before, he hadn’t been swept off his feet.

It was still a lot, as if Danny had laid himself along Jason’s back and then pulled his way straight into his body. But he could breathe. Could think, could focus, and then it was gone again.

And being summoned by Killer Croc pretty much right away.

Maybe the adrenaline helped. Who fucking knew.

He raised a hand as the goons all turned to their groups, squinting suspiciously at the socialites.

“That’d be me?” He offered dryly, already rising as their riddler minion made as if to push through their group.

Sam grabbed Danny’s arm as Jason moved away, and onlookers might have confused it as her wanting comfort, or stopping Danny from following.

This close, Jason knew it was a warning for Danny not to actually laugh. The timing was just… the actual fucking best.

Killer Croc actually moved down towards him too, rather than having Jason brought up to the stage. Even better. Jason didn’t exactly square up, but he didn’t back down.

Croc seemed to approve, giving Jason an entirely unsubtle once over as he stopped just in front of him.

Better play carefully though. He’d worked with Croc as the Red Hood, and he already knew Roy’s real identity.

Croc had been running with Harley lately (and Jason kinda loved that partnership made in Hell) but he wasn’t officially on the list of Rogues Who Knew.

Luckily the plan wasn’t for Jason to take a swing at him.

“So yer back from the dead,” Croc growled, something in his eye making Jason wonder if they might not have to update that list after all. “Coulda sworn you were a scrawny little shit.”

Jason shrugged. It wasn’t really something he could deny; he’d grown almost a foot and a half. Being dead: weirdly good for growth spurts.

“I got better.”

What it was to Croc though… unless he did know who Jason really was. But then he’d have known Jason had been back for a while.

Croc rumbled something under his breath, and Jason made a note to run him down later as Red Hood. He’d been settled in Coney Island, finally out of the game.

Jason wasn’t gonna put him in Arkham if there was a chance they could fix whatever had dragged him back to town. And they could catch up. See what he actually knew.

Eyes narrowing just a little, Croc caught a scaly thumb under Jason’s jaw and tipped his face back and forth.

“So what the hell’ve you done to piss of Two Face, kid?” He asked in a lower growl, not quite quiet enough for privacy but not yelling to the whole hall.

Jason’s brows furrowed.

So they weren’t after Dent as a guest. He’d been planning an attack on the gala. Whether he’d still go through with it now though…

And the good news was, best case scenario here was to tell the truth. At least some of it.

“No idea. I’ve only been back in the land of the living for a couple weeks.” And he hadn’t run across Two Face recently in any costume.

Croc chuckled softly, which Jason was going to weigh in the “might know” column, but was interrupted by Riddler shouting across the hall.

“Just bring the boy here, Croccy, we need to set the stage before our fickle friend shows up!” He sounded impatient, and Jason watched annoyance flick across Croc’s eyes.

But the big man just shrugged, curling an arm around Jason’s bicep and tugging him towards the stage.

Yeah, Jason could feel just how much Danny didn’t like that development. There was a new undercut of tension alongside the amused-excited-anticipation.

And it was as good a time as any to start the show.

“What do you guys want with Two Face?” He asked as Croc dragged him, moving with him but not quite keeping up.

Flicking wait-soon-just one second as much as he could towards Danny.

Croc glanced back and gave him a harsher yank to keep up, attention now fixed on the stage. Where a couple more of Riddler’s goons had appeared, holding what looked fascinatingly like a bomb vest.

Joy. Not just Croc’s idea then.

“You’ll see just as soon as he shows up,” the big guy growled, and Jason sighed. So much for the easy way.

Ready-ready-ready

DUCK

“Catching” one toe on the heel of his other shoe, Jason stumbled and fell to the floor. As expected Croc twisted to glare down at him, grip still tight on his arm. Even bent over just a little, like he’d seen the script.

Perfect.

Which meant he didn’t see Danny vaulting up from his spot on the floor and wasn’t even a little prepared for an entire scrawny but muscular young man to land squarely straddling his shoulders, his added weight and momentum pitching Croc forwards and down to the ground.

Danny rode him down like a rodeo champ, leaning back and grinning at Jason as a hail of batarangs came from the ceiling.

“Come here often?” He asked cheerfully as Croc roared, clawed hands swiping up just after Danny rolled away down his back.

Jason snorted a laugh, pulling free as well and backing away.

Fucking danger twink. Yeah, he was kinda in love.

——————-

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dpxdc #dp x dc #dead on main ship #the inevitable rogue attack #danny fenton x jason todd #and here is where shit gets real #nobody correctly guessed who was coming #but i’m gonna keep making you wait 😈#also for sam’s pov we’ll get her at the real climax of the event

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