#;; the home !!! dany is *home* !!!!!! WITHOUT EVER FEELING LIKE SHE IS AT HOME. SHE'S HOME TO SO MANY !!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dcxdpdabbles · 1 year ago

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Any new ideas for congratulations! It's triplets? Love the idea of Jason just freaking out and trying to figure out how to build a relationship with his kids while being made fun of by his family and said kids. Especially if he goes overprotective mode because Danny has clown trauma too and gets snagged by the joker

Jason watches as Danny- his son.- impatiently taps his fingers against the table. His boy's gaze was looking at everything, taking in the big fancy Wayne Mannor with a sort of disinterest he was not expecting of a child so young.

His sister and Brother- both with alarmingly similar names- were also disinterested, but Dani was swinging her legs, and Dan was tapping his spoon and fork against the table in a fast-paced drumming.

It's strange to know he would fidget a lot as a kid but he always resorted to finger tapping. Was the tripples little habit from him? He wonders what else they inherited and what he missed out on seeing.

"I don't understand," Jasmine said, overlooking the contract Bruce's lawyers wrote up. " Why would you want custody now? It's been five years."

"I didn't know." Jason swallows past the lump in his throat as she gives him an unimpressed stare over the paper. He feels Bruce place a hand on his shoulder, and the silent support allows him to continue. "If I have, I wouldn't have ever let them grow up without me."

"Jason doesn't want full custody," Tim cuts in with a soft voice that has tricked lesser men into selling their shares. He and the rest of his family are all sitting across from Jassmin Fenton, as she is carefully lured back to the manor to discuss their next step. "He just wants to be part of his kid's lives and would happily share that with you."

"Not telling him about the kids sort of played into that," Steph mutters tactlessly. Unfortunately, her voice carries, and the woman across from them bristles.

There is a tense moment where he thinks Jassmin is about to curse them all out before she sighs and slumps in her seat. "Well, it wasn't like I had a means to contact you when I found out. You gave me a fake name."

Jason winces. "I sort of forgot I told you my name was Petter."

"Wasn't a total lie" Dani chirps "It is your middle name."

Jasmine rubs her eyes. "Look, Jason, I don't want to stop you from seeing the kids, but this is all too much right now. I'm dealing with a lot right now-"

"You are currently homeless," Damian cuts in, causing Jasmine to stop in genuine bewilderment.

"No, we're not." Dan scoffs. "You were waiting for us at our house. Waiting to ambush us."

"The house that was on the street that Poison Ivy just destroyed," The boy says, showing everyone his phone screen. There, clear as day is, their home is nothing but rumble. Jasmine's face spams, and she quickly checks her phone, paling at what she reads.

"Oh, Ancients. It's gone. It's all gone," She whispers, gripping the phone. The three kids immediately stiffen, watching their mother with strange intensity. Too aware of what this means.

They were mature for their age, and that is never a good thing.

Oh gods. Did his children live on the streets? Had Jason's carelessness hurt his children like his parents have hurt him?

"Mom?" Danny asks and that seems to snap Jasmine out of her spirl.

"Hotel!" She gasps, hands shaking as she quickly starts tapping on her phone. Jason catches a glimpse of her screen and realizes she is making a to-do list. "I have to book a hotel room. Call the insurance company, go and try to salvage whatever we can....what else?"

"You can stay here, Fenton," Damian surprisingly offers. "Until your home is rebuilt"

"We couldn't possibly-"

"Hotels are expensive, and you must focus on other more important needs. Father certainly has the space."

Jason jerks into action. "This will also give me a chance to connect with the kids!"

Jasmine bites her lip, turning to her children. Jason could appreciate that she was willing to include them in big decisions. The three nodded, so she eventually sighs.

"Alright. But only until I can get our housing settled. And I'll pay rent"

Jason would argue but he recognized the look in her eye. She would not be sway from making payments. So he agrees, tapping his fingers on the table in a specific rhythm to make sure his family agrees too.

He knows it pains Bruce- the old man already thinks of the triplets as his grandchildren and the idea of charging them to live with him will kill him.

Jason notices the way Dan's eyes zero in on his tapping and the glance around the family members. He fights a proud grin when realization bleeds into his boy's eyes. He's got a smart one, likely aware of that the tapping is a form of Morse code.

Tim did say- after pulling up all files of the four- that his children had developed insane intelligence. Maybe he should get them tested for certification geniuses.

"Hey Mr. Jason," Dani suddenly speaks up.

"Yes Darling?"

"I suggest you remove your eyes from my mom before I remove them from your face." The little girl even punches her palm in a poor intimidation attempt. His heart melts.

Then his face turns a dark red hue at Jasmine's raised brow. Unwillingly flashes of thier last time being face-to face rise in his mind. He coughs awkwardly as his sons face become as protective as their sister, Dan cracking his knuckles and Danny reaching for a knife.

"Oh yeah" Tim deadpans watching the kids reaction "No need for DNA test. Those are definitely Jason's kids"

He agrees, he just hopes he can show his children he plans on sticking around and being the father they deserve.

No one notices Cass and Steph slip away to deal with Posion Ivy. Jason kinda wants to send her a thank you gift for making it possible to have his family move into the manor.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Congratulations! Its Triplets!#the Dannies are protective of Jazz #Jason is more focus on being a dad but he does have a interest in Jazz #Damian is plotting on being the best uncle #The Waynes vs the Custody battle

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lupinqs · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER TWO ━━ Silence and Static

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.5K

☆ ━ warnings: nothing really, paige is just kinda emo lol

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: sorry this is such a filler and it’s boring but it’s meant to serve as a basis for paige’s perspective after her and dani’s fall out

THE START of senior year has a bitter taste that Paige wasn’t prepared for. She’s envisioned this time in her life in so many different ways—dominating on the court, coasting through classes with Dani by her side, enjoying the final months before the world outside St. Louis Park opens up to them. But reality always has a way of shattering things, leaving Paige to pick up the pieces of what’s supposed to be the best year of her life.

The ache in Paige’s chest is a constant reminder of what she’s lost—or more accurately, what’s been torn away from her without any explanation. As she sits at the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, Paige’s fingers hover over the message icon, the urge to text Dani overwhelming. She doesn’t know what she’d say; she just wants to talk her. But the memory of her and Dani’s last conversation stops any true thought or idea of communicating with the brunette. She was so hostile, so cold, so different from Dani—who’s always been warm and kind and true. And now Paige stares at the last message she received from the girl and it hurts her eyes to even look at.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

i’m going to camp, won’t have my phone

sorry

It was sent in early June, and that was it. No further explanation, nothing to ease the anxiety that had gripped Paige the rest of the summer afterwards. And now, Dani and Paige are both back, and yet, the aforementioned is more distant than ever before. The silence between them has grown thick, suffocating, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts and the static of unanswered questions buzzing in her mind.

With a heavy sigh, Paige tosses her phone aside and forces herself to get up and get dressed. She goes through the motions: pulling on her favorite UConn hoodie, tying her shoes, grabbing her bag. But everything just feels off. The hoodie’s too heavy, her shoes too tight, and the backpack weighs down her shoulders more than it should. It’s as if the world has shifted slightly, leaving her out of sync with everything around her.

As Paige trudges down the stairs, she finds her dad and Drew in the kitchen, the two of them already busy with their morning routine. The smell of bacon and maple syrup fills the air, though it doesn’t bring its usual comfort to Paige.

“Senior year, P!” her dad, Bob, chirps, grinning sideways at his daughter as he packs Drew’s lunch box. “You excited?”

Paige forces a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

Bob’s brows furrow slightly at her tone, sensing the lie beneath the surface, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he just hands Paige a piece of bacon, which she gladly accepts. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” he replies, clearly trying to be reassuring.

Paige nods, sending him a short smile before making her way over to Drew. He sits at the table, eating his pancakes. She ruffles his hair a little, and then kisses it lightly, saying, “Have a good first day, ‘kay? Better tell me all about it when you get home.”

Drew will be in first grade and he’s been bustling with excitement to start back up in school since it ended, having had a wonderful kindergarten year. Paige adores her little brother’s innocence, his love for learning. It clenches at her heartstrings a little bit, though—it feels like he’s growing too fast.

Drew sends his older sister a grin, saying with his mouth full, “I will, Paigey!”

She smiles back, this one reaching her eyes a bit more, before mumbling her goodbyes, Amaya sending a text telling Paige she’s here. No, Paige does not have her license yet—no, she doesn’t want to talk about it. She heads out the door, the morning air crisp. It does little to clear her mind. She smiles a little at her sophomore friend as she gets into the passenger seat, greeting her. Amaya grins back, though she’s clearly unhappy with the fact summer’s over.

When they arrive, the parking lot is already half-full, students milling about in groups, laughing and talking and probably complaining about the fact that school’s back in session. Paige isn’t offended when Amaya leaves her side to go to her friends in her own grade, bounding over to them happily. Besides, the blonde has already spotted Thaliah Sommers and KK Adams near the entrance, the pair waving at her with tired smiles.

“Hey, P,” KK greets. “Senior year, yeah?”

“Seems like it,” Paige replies, glancing at the building, lips pulled into a tight line. She doesn’t even bother trying to fake another smile, expression brittle at this point. Her friends don’t seem to care; they both look more than exhausted, their summer sleep schedules most likely not mingling well with the early arrival time.

“Can’t believe I have a first period,” Thaliah grumbles, wiping at her eyes. Truthfully, the girl looks as if she’s just rolled out of bed—sporting a sweatshirt and sweatpants, face bare. It seems as though senior year has made them all careless.

“Yeah, but at least you get out after fourth,” Paige reasons, shaking her head as she thinks of her own schedule. “I have all these random free periods between my classes, so I gotta stay here all day. I’ll prolly just end up bothering Coach during ‘em.”

“I’d hate that,” Thaliah agrees, scrunching her face up as the three of them begin to walk into the building, recognizing that class starts in a few short minutes.

Inside, the familiar sights and sounds of the first day of school surrounds Paige. Lockers slamming shut, freshman looking lost, teachers already reprimanding students. To her disappointment, Paige doesn’t feel a single ounce of excitement as she takes in her surroundings, instead only feeling an unfamiliar sheen of anxiety graze over her skin. She knows why. Lately, everything that’s wrong with Paige has led back to the same thing. Dani has always been her constant; though, now, it’s in a far different way than it was before. Dani seems to be the source of all of Paige’s problems, all of her recent negative feelings, the new emotions she’s been experiencing. The absolute lack of Danielle Callan has rocked Paige’s world more than most would believe possible.

And Paige has no idea whether it helps or not that her first class of the day is AP Lit—the only class she and Dani will have together the whole school year. When they were signing up for classes last spring, it was Dani’s idea to take it together. Dani had always planned to take it, but when she found out that none of their friends had that same idea, she needed someone. And that someone—always—was Paige. The blonde was hesitant, because, truthfully, she’s only ever heard bad things about the class. The teacher’s good—Paige knows that, she had her for English her freshman year—but, according to some of Paige’s older friends that have since graduated, the class is apparently a shit ton of reading and too difficult for her own good. Yet, because it was Dani, Paige had agreed. And the thought of spending that hour with Dani every single day was enough to make the thought of tackling Shakespeare and Faulkner bearable (especially knowing that Dani would be there to help her). But now, as Paige steps into the typical flamboyant English type of classroom, the reality of what happened over the summer hits her like a tidal wave.

Dani’s already there, sitting in the middle row, her light brown hair pulled up into a messy bun. She looks tired, shoulders slightly hunched and dark circles under her eyes, gazing vacantly at her desk. Paige’s heart twists a little at the sight. It’s not as if Paige hasn’t seen Dani at all since their fight—she has. They live right next door to each other, of course she has. But it still hurts all the same. To be completely cut off with little to no explanation by your best friend who you also happen to be hopelessly in love with is fucking painful.

Paige hesitates in the doorway, her feet rooted to the ground as her eyes stay on Dani. She wants nothing more than to go to her, to sit beside her like they always have, to pretend that everything is okay, even if it’s not. But something in Dani’s posture, in the way she keeps her eyes downcast, warns Paige to stay back and keep her distance.

“Oh, Paige!” Mrs. Donovan, the AP Lit teacher, calls out in excitement as her eyes land on her student. She grins brightly—a bit too brightly for the early hour, Paige can’t help but think—and gestures to a desk. The one that’s— “You’re right behind Danielle!”

Dani doesn’t look up at the sound of her name, doesn’t bother to acknowledge Paige’s presence at all. The blonde swallows hard, forcing herself to move. She slides into the seat Mrs. Donovan gestured to, the one right behind Dani, her heart pounding against her rib cage. From this close, Paige can see the tension in Dani’s shoulders, the way her fingers tap anxiously against the surface of the desk. Paige can only imagine how Dani’s feeling—but, still, she’s usually mostly accurate. Dani’s always been more introverted, and new schedules, new routines, and new people tend to make her anxious. Paige can tell she’s feeling that way right now. Because, despite everything, Dani is still Dani. And Paige will always know Dani. The blonde wants to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words only stick in her throat.

As the bell rings and Mrs. Donovan starts the class, handing out syllabi and talking about what to expect for the year, Paige’s mind strays far from the discussion. Instead, she finds herself staring at the back of Dani’s head, thoughts and memories circling through her head with unwarranted clarity.

JULY 2013

THEY’RE ELEVEN years old, and the summer sun blazes over them as Paige and Dani sit on the swings at the park near their houses. It’s a place they’ve been coming to for years, one of their constants. In fact, it’s actually where they first met.

The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the sweet aroma of the cherry popsicles the girls devoured earlier. Paige’s legs pump the air lazily, the tips of her shoes grazing the ground, while Dani swings a bit higher, her hair flying out behind her like a banner in the wind. The worn-out metal creaks with each swing, a familiar sound that blends into the background of their laughter and chatter.

“Race you to the top!” Dani suddenly shouts, voice filled with a reckless enthusiasm that usually belongs in Paige’s instead. Without waiting for a response, Dani leaps off the swing, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud, making a beeline for the jungle gym.

Paige’s laugh bursts out of her before she can help it, and she scrambles to follow, heart pounding with the thrill of the chase. “No fair, you started first!” she calls, her words trailing behind her as she races after her best friend.

They reach the platform that hovers above the slide, the same spot where Dani broke her arm years before. Paige remembers it vividly—how Dani had cried, the way her elbow was bent all weird, and how Paige had held her hand the entire car ride to the hospital. The spot is a little scarred now, but it doesn’t stop them from sitting side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge as they survey their world from above.

From this vantage point, Paige can see so much more. The neighborhood spreads out before them like a patchwork quilt, each house a different square, each tree a different shade of green. The sun casts long shadows, making the world below them seem like a dream, distant and hazy. There’s a stillness in the air, a peaceful quiet that Paige—for once—isn’t the one who breaks.

“P?” Dani asks, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Paige hums in question, keeping her gaze out before her instead of on the girl next to her. There’s something in Dani’s voice that makes her brain short circuit a little, a seriousness that doesn’t belong in the carefree world around them. “Yeah?” Paige asks, trying to sound light, though a small knot of worry forms in her stomach.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Dani’s words hang in the air between them, heavy and laden with thought.

Paige turns to look over at her now, eyebrows furrowed in surprise. Dani’s never been the type to dwell on what’s ahead—in fact, she says it scares her too much to even think about it. Instead, she usually submerges herself in now, living in the moment, seizing the day with both hands.

“What d’you mean?” Paige replies, voice soft, almost afraid to shatter whatever fragile thing Dani is holding onto.

Dani shrugs, her shoulders rising and falling with a casualness that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Like… what we’ll be like when we’re older,” Dani elaborates, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “We’re starting middle school now, and I always hear things about friends drifting apart. I just wonder if, when we’re older—like high school or something—if we’ll still be friends. Or if things will have changed.” Dani keeps her eyes out on the horizon, expression thoughtful as Paige gazes at her.

Paige feels an odd tension in her stomach at the thought of losing Dani, of the possibility of their friendship fading away. It’s too painful, too much that would be taken at once, to even consider. Dani is Paige’s constant, her anchor in a world that sometimes feels too big and too overwhelming for the eleven-year-old. The idea that they could ever grow apart feels like a betrayal of everything they’ve ever promised each other.

“We’ll always be friends,” she says with confidence. Because, in what world could they not be? “Nothing will ever be able to change that, ‘kay?”

Dani finally looks back at Paige now, her expression softening, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Slowly, the seriousness begins to seep out of her. “Promise?”

Paige doesn’t hesitate, reaching out to hook her pinky around Dani’s. It’s a childish gesture that fits the friendship between two young girls. But this time, it’s true—a vow that they’re both determined to keep.

“Promise,” Paige echoes, squeezing Dani’s pinky with her own.

As they sit there, side-by-side on the playground, the world feels small and manageable, just for a little while longer. And, here and now, Paige allows herself to believe that nothing with ever come between her and Dani—no matter what.

PAIGE BLINKS, the memory fading just as their promise did. It hurts all over to think about the fact that she was so sure that nothing would ever come between them, that their friendship was absolutely unbreakable. But now, here they are, strangers but not at all, bigger walls being built between them each and every day.

The weight of that lost connection presses down on Paige’s chest, making it hard to breathe. Her lungs flare in and out. She wants—needs—to do something, to find a way to bridge the gap between them. But she just doesn’t know how, the silence and static between them far too heavy. And the fear that she might never get the chance to again is almost enough to make Paige’s lungs go out completely.

Mrs. Donovan’s voice drones on in the background, but Paige can’t focus on the words. All she can see is the back of Dani’s head, the way her highlights illuminate her brown hair at certain angles, the way she shifts uncomfortable in her seat every now and then, probably feeling the weight of the blonde’s gaze tearing into her back. It’s almost as if an invisible barrier has been built between them, one that Paige can’t tear down no matter how hard she tries.

Finally, the bell rings, signaling the end of class. Paige watches as Dani gathers her things quickly, avoiding eye contact with the blonde as she hurries out of the room. Paige lingers there for a second, heart sinking slightly as she watches Dani slip out the door, her back rigid, her steps quick and purposeful.

Paige feels a mixture of relief, dread, and—oddly enough—excitement. Relief that first period is over, dread at the thought of facing Dani again. But, at the same time, excitement about seeing Dani again. Because if this is the only time Paige can see her, if AP Lit is truly all Paige will ever be able to get out of the brunette again, she’ll take it. As pathetic as it sounds, she’ll take as much—or as little, she supposes—of Dani as she can get.

THE FOOTBALL game is the first big event of the back to school season, and Paige stands there in the student section with Thaliah and Amaya. It’s not like Paige has any particular interest in football; of course, she’s always preferred basketball. But she’s been in need of a distraction, something big and exciting enough to pull her out of the unfamiliar melancholy that’s settled over her, and it seems like a high school football game under the lights is the perfect choice.

The student section is alive with energy, the kids screaming and chanting things that they probably shouldn’t be as the game kicks off. Paige does her best to lose herself in the excitement. She screams along with her friends, sweating slightly under the setting sun, grabbing a Hawaiian lei excitedly when KK offers her one. It’s beach theme tonight—Paige tried to fit into it, wearing sunglasses and some beach button up with a white crop top, the lei helping to add to it.

But as Paige’s eyes drift along the players, along the field, along the track—her eyes land on her and it’s almost as if any and all excitement that had settled inside of Paige is whisked away, just like that. Dani stands on the sidelines, between the line of football players and the cheerleaders, her camera clicking away. It’s not like this is a new thing—Dani did this last year, for yearbook, and Paige shouldn’t be surprised to see her doing it again this year.

The Callan girl has always been passionate about photography, and it’s one of the many things that Paige has learned to love about her through the years. Paige knows that Dani has a way of almost losing herself in the click of her camera, finding beauty in the smallest details, the most mundane moments captured and crafted into something beguiling. Dani used to show Paige all the photos she’d taken, scrolling through the storage on the camera. The two of them would huddle over the device, and Paige would help her best friend pick the best photos for whatever project she was working on in yearbook.

And then, of course, there’s the other memory card that Dani has—the one that Paige knows is labeled “P.” It’s simple—all of the scattered photos that Dani has taken of Paige over the years, all put together on one little storage device. Dani told Paige several times that it was her greatest piece of work, merely because Paige was the star of it. Yet, for a while, Dani didn’t let the blonde look into it, keeping the memory card hidden away. But, eventually, Paige’s curiosity got the better of her and she’d found the card and scrolled through the photos. There were some from when Dani first got into photography, when they were much younger, with chubbier cheeks and more crooked smiles. A good amount was the photos Dani got of Paige court-side, some for the yearbook, some just reserved for the two of them. And then there was the candid ones—Paige remembers scrolling through them, and the look in her own eyes that stared at Dani from behind the camera… God, she remembers thinking that it seems she was whipped from the very beginning.

Paige’s heart clenches at the thought of that memory card, and wishes she was a photographer so she could have one of Dani. She’s got a fair few—or, well, a lot—of photos of Dani on her phone, but it’s just not the same. Faintly, Paige wonders what Dani’s done with the “P” card. Maybe she threw it away, crushed it into tiny little pieces, tossing it into the trash like she did her and Paige’s friendship. Or maybe—maybe—she’s kept it. Paige hopes it’s the latter; she imagines Dani, late at night, thinking of Paige like Paige has been thinking of her, and then going through the photos of her, wishing she could take back everything she said.

Paige almost rolls her eyes at her own thoughts. She’s almost sure Dani threw it away.

And then, the blonde is pulled out of her own head by the sound of the crowd erupting into a series of cheers, the band beginning to play. She glances at the field, then at the scoreboard, realizing she’s just missed a touchdown. Thaliah and Amaya and all the students around Paige are jumping up and down, chanting for Hopkins. Paige joins in, trying to drown herself in it, doing her best to put her mind to rest and just have some fun—she’s always been so good at that; she wishes it wasn’t so hard to do recently.

When the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game, Hopkins pulls through with a narrow win. The crowd is excited for their first victory of the season, screaming those “start the buses” and “who’s your daddy” chants that Paige has always found ridiculously hilarious. Eventually, everyone begins to disperse, and Paige stands with Thaliah and Amaya, the three of them following the rush of students leaving the bleachers.

Amaya quickly tells Paige and Thaliah that she has to go to the bathroom, rushing towards the building. The other two girls stand around patiently, people watching their peers. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long until Paige’s eyes once again find Dani’s frame. The brunette is packing up her camera gear, hauling a small duffel on her shoulder.

Thaliah follows the blonde’s gaze, nudging her gently. “You should go talk to her,” she says encouragingly, nodding towards Dani.

Paige shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.” It’s true; she remembers their last conversation—the cold look in Dani’s eye, the forced indifference, the river she rushed to drown Paige away.

“You’ve been miserable,” Thaliah says, point-blank. Paige’s eyes shift to her left, where the tanned girl stands beside her, brows furrowing in almost offense. “Don’t side-eye me like that—you know you’ve been miserable. And I think you’ve got nothing to lose these days when it comes to Dani, so you might as well just try.”

Paige doesn’t answer, eyes merely locking back onto her best friend. Without thinking, almost like her legs are moving of their own accord, the blonde starts walking towards Dani. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, doesn’t know if Dani will let even let a word slip out of her mouth. But Thaliah’s right: it’s worth a shot. Paige can’t leave without even trying.

As she approaches, she watches Dani glance up, eyes meeting Paige’s. It lasts for only the briefest of seconds before Dani plainly averts her gaze, eyes anywhere but on the blonde walking up to her. Paige feels her heart stutter against her rib cage, threatening to sink at the sight, but, nevertheless, she keeps going, only stopping when she’s a few feet away from the brunette.

“Dani,” Paige murmurs, her voice soft, almost pleading. It’s all she can say; she doesn’t know what else to say.

The basketball player watches as her best friend’s body goes rigid, her hands stilling on her camera bag. It takes a second, but eventually Dani looks up, meets Paige’s gaze, brown on blue. There’s an unnameable emotion swirling within the Callan girl’s irises, and Paige wants nothing more than to step closer, to look deeper in them, to decipher exactly what’s going on in her best friend’s head. But she doesn’t. Paige stays rooted in place. And, for one, stupid moment, she believes that Dani might actually say something, that maybe this could be the first step in their repair.

But it doesn’t last.

“Dani!” multiple voices echo the name from the pair’s right. Paige turns to see Beau Hudson, still clad in his football gear and eyeblack, grinning and waving at Dani—his girlfriend, the blonde thinks, sickly—beckoning her over. He seeps with the same overconfidence he’s had the twelve years that Paige has known him, and it makes her blood boil over slightly. By his side is Serena Corren—a cheerleader that also happens to be Beau’s best friend, who’s famously known for her sharp tongue and dismissive attitude—also grinning and waving. Serena and Beau stand with a group that’s more than excited and impatient for Dani to join them.

Paige’s stomach twists at the sight. It’s clear that her best friend has integrated herself into this new crowd, one that Paige has always found superficial and unkind.

“I have to go,” Dani mutters to Paige, not meeting the blonde’s eyes. She slings her bag over her shoulder before hurrying off to her new friends, leaving Paige standing there, aching all over.

Paige watches Dani go, feeling like the weight of the world is pressing on her shoulders, weighing her down. She wants to scream, to cry, to do something to make Dani see that they don’t have to be like this, that they can fix whatever has gone wrong. But she can’t. So, instead, she just stands there, staring, missing her best friend.

Yes, Paige misses her. God, she misses her so much that it fucking hurts—it hurts her insides, her outsides, her bones, her skin. It makes her feel all wrong. Every part of her aches with the absence of Dani Callan, the loss of everything they’ve had. She misses Dani’s smile, the gleam in her eyes when she’d look at Paige, the giggles she’d let out whenever the point guard made a stupid joke. She misses the way Dani used to make her feel—alive, whole, like she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, as long as Dani was by her side.

But now all of that’s just—gone. And that’s clear as day as Paige watches Beau Hudson wrap his arm around Dani before pressing a firm kiss to her mouth.

She’s going to be sick.

Paige feels a hand on her arm, a head resting on her shoulder. It grounds her a little. Thaliah mumbles, “It’s gonna be okay, P.”

Paige doesn’t have the heart to say it, but she knows that’s not true. There is nothing okay with the fact that Dani is slipping—or, she supposes, has already slipped—through her fingers. There is nothing okay with the loneliness and pain that comes with it.

Paige doesn’t really know if anything will ever be okay again.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #wlw #take me to church #hopkins p fic #paige bueckers x oc

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thekitsunesiren · 1 year ago

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hello mind if I drop off a prompt?

Damian let's his family know he is going to hang out with a friend.

a bat bugs Damian to find him hanging out with one Danni Fenton.

adult Danny/Sam/Tucker parenting a 12 year old Danni.

The trio earn Auntie/Uncle/Uncle privileges from Damian.

Oh, this will be fun!

Okay, first things first would be the absolute disbelief from the batfam from Damian's announcement. Because Damian. Damian "Demon Brat" Wayne, had a friend. A friend that they didn't have the knowledge of knowing until just then.

With Damian springing it on them, they didn't have the time to ask any important questions, let alone do a background check on the kid and their family.

From what Damian told them, the kid they were meeting was named Danielle, but she preferred to be called Ellie. She and her parents had moved to Gotham not too long ago. He met her on a pure coincidence. And of course, with how paranoid the Batfam was, that didn't settle well for them. The parents could've sent their child to get close to the Wayne family for the money. Or kidnap Damian!

Tim walked up to Damian and ruffled his hair while teasing the younger Wayne about how he finally made a friend that wasn't an animal. With a scoff and a swat as a way to get rid of the opposing limb, Damian turned and left the manor while slamming the door behind him.

As soon as it closed, Tim raced back to where he left his computer. There was no way he wasn't going to let his little brother go anywhere unknown without at least two trackers on him. And with how the others quickly scrambled behind him to get a look on his computer, the others had the same thought.

------

Damian, however, was excited to visit Dani and her family.

The two had met when he was leaving school and waiting for Alfred to pick him up. And she wasn't that far from him, standing near the road waiting for someone to pick her up as well. At first glance, she looks like she could be someone adopted by father. Black hair tied to a ponytail and shockingly bright blue eyes. Immediately, he saw her as someone that his father would try to adopt just off of appearance alone. With her seeming to be around his age, he could claim that he could have a sibling to interact with more.

Of course, it wasn't long before the stranger took notice of his staring and turned to look him dead on. Her eyes meeting his in a serious stare down where neither of them moved.

When Damian made the move to speak, a car pulled up in front of the girl. The passenger side window rolling down and someone talking to the girl. She responded in turn before opening the passenger side door and getting in. Damian could only stand and watch as the car soon pulled away from the school and drive away into the distance. Not long afterwards, Alfred arrived to pick him up and he rode in silence on the way home while contemplating the other student that he met.

Okay! Here's how I feel like it would go down with their so called meeting out of the way.

Damian would see Dani and would immediately assume that she would be some sort of clone of either his father or one of the other bats. Was she sent to his school to watch and observe him? Did she know who his alter ego was?

After that, he would be watching her every move during class, surprising himself to find out that she was even in a few of his classes. Suspicious.

Does he approach her? No, because that would put too much on him and probably give her the opening she was expecting. He was ten steps ahead of her in every way!

Day after day, he watches and takes note of everything that she does, trying to notice any oddities in her behavior. Or any sign that she was spying on him.

While she didn't seem to be spying on him directly, Damian did notice her personality of being strong willed, stubborn and having a love for puns. Hm, a clone of the Robins maybe instead of Batman?

Dani, on the other hand, is wondering why the young Wayne seemed to be following her from a distance ever since they've seen each other that day on the end of school. From what Danny told her, it was the older Wayne's that she was supposed to avoid in case she was forcefully kidnapped, though it seemed that the younger Wayne was just as bad as the older ones.

How did Dani end up going to Damian's school, you ask? Well, it was simple:

Not long after Danny defeated Pariah Dark and took up the mantel as the next King of the Infinite Realms, Dani had returned from her travels around the world and decided to spend a bit of time with Danny as things calmed down. Maybe even get to know the others a bit better, seeing as she was never properly introduced to them.

She found out that he was dating both Sam and Tucker. Had been for a while now. Huh, go figure. And during that time of dating, she had arrived to catch up and spend a bit more time of all of them. Maybe even try to find a good reason to stay in Amity for a bit longer (even though she really loved to travel).

But not too long after that, a reveal gone wrong left Dani standing in a room with a frantic Sam packing up everything she owned while Jazz treated a barely conscious Danny's wound on his side. A gunshot wound that was from his parents no doubt.

One rushed explanation from Jazz about how the reveal went wrong, and how they had to leave Amity Park. Now.

With a quick meet up with Tucker, the five of them were huddled in a car and pedaling out of Amity as fast as they could. Dani staying in the back seat with Jazz to watch over Danny and make sure that he didn't pass out again on their way to-wherever it was they were going. Her core wouldn't allow it.

The clone didn't know how far they've been driving and for how long, but she knew that they were out of Amity and that was all that mattered. But the question bouncing around her head was: what happens now?

And the answer was to drive all the way called Gotham city and lay low for a while. Thankfully, a lot of the buildings were no questions asked. So when they find a place that could fit all of them (small and cramped as it was) while planning on what to do now. Of course Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all pretty much up and left without much except for some spare clothes and their ghost hunting gear (and a credit card Sam managed to snag from her mom's purse. Her own card didn't have as much on it.). But Danny was out of there and they were safe from both the Fentons and the GIW. For now.

Now, several weeks have passed. Jazz had managed to find a job to help with the money, while Sam and Tucker were both on the way as well. Which left Dani pretty much alone in the apartment with a slowly healing Danny. And while he was healing, he was kept on house arrest, much to his ire. Though he did help out with the cooking and other house chores while the others were out doing their own thing. And if the two of them occasionally floating outside their apartment during the night, who would tell on them?

When about two months passed, the older teens realized that Gotham would be their permanent home until further notice, so it would only be right that they allow Dani some time to get out as well.

So, they enroll her to school! Gotham U no less (Thank you, Tucker). Sure it was a bit stuffy for their tastes (mostly Sam's), but they were sure that Dani would fit in fine! What's the worst that could happen?

Unfortunately, Dani was a clone of Danny, so she was off to a bit of a rough start. And she hadn't really interacted with someone of her (supposed) age before, so it was all plenty new for her. So she really didn't know where to start.

It wasn't until she went to class that she met a kid in the back row facing the window, who looked like he didn't want to be in this class either. And during attendance she learned that his name was Damian Wayne. Odd, wasn't that the name of that rich family that Sam talked (more like complained) about? Oh well, coincidence maybe.

Throughout the entire day, Dani would notice that if they had the same class, he would be looking in her direction for moments at a time.

It was about the last class of the day when Dani pieced together as to why he could be doing that.

Oh..

He was shy!

Well, Dani would make sure that wouldn't last long. And maybe he would approach her soon.

So every day, Dani would work on getting to know him better. Even when he would brush her off and try to make her go away. She was as stubborn as Danny for a reason!

When the two finally became friends and Dani told that her new friend invited her to her house and also offered her parents, she forgot on whether or not that was truly the rich Wayne she was supposed to stay away from.

Dani had spoken about her friend plenty of times, and all of her parents seemed to like him.

Danny laughed every time Dani spoke about doing something or possibly pranking Damian, thinking that she was doing good with socialization and that the kid had to enjoy their friendship to some degree.

Sam was a bit more cautious of the friend, asking more of his likes and dislikes. Was he really bullying Dani? Did he say anything mean to her? Did she have to go to the school and fight a kid? All and all, Dani slowly convinced her that Damian was a good kid and she let it be. Telling Sam that Damian was a vegan may or may not have helped.

Tucker was a bit more lenient than the other two. The kid was nice to her? Didn't bully her? He was smart and knew his way around tech? Good

But as they stood in front of Wayne Mansion dressed in their more casual clothes, they all thought that they should've asked more questions about Dani's friend.

(All in all: neither of them have truly interacted with someone their age, your honor.)

Confrontations, miscommunication, and possibly a lot of bonding could come from both sides, and I would love to see it!

#Kitsune Kounters #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dc×dp prompt #danny phantom crossover #dp crossover #this was in my drafts for literal MONTHS

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formulaforza · 1 year ago

Text

—strawberry wine

and all the times we used to have. (nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft). pairing: daniel ricciardo x female reader warnings: language, angst babyyy love, mackie... 5k ish. this is. definitely something. perhaps it should have stayed in the drafts but dani selected it from a group of it's peers yesterday evening.

It’s been years since you last spent enough time at the vineyard to be considered even a part-time employee. It’s hard to be there, now, in a way it didn’t used to be. Watching it fade away into obscurity and beg someone–anyone–to buy the property to land so your family can get out without generational debt. The fields just hold so many memories, an ancestral kind of history; your first job, the place you had your first drink, where you fell both in, and out of love for the first time. Being there now, watching it die a malignant death is just… sad. There isn’t anything poetic about it.

You long for the days of the peak, of never ending days spent behind the counter in the barn selling wealthy people on the aesthetics of a small, family-run vineyard. Of your father hosting tours and your mother tastings, of you, pink nose and shoulders kissed by the sun, picking grapes by hand. Of the days where help still had to be hired.

For a while there, it seemed like there was a never ending rotation of teenagers and twenty-somethings willing to do manual labor for minimum wage–thirteen an hour–from sunup to sundown. They’d even host the occasional tour on busy Saturday evenings, would be compensated in under the table bottles of wine and cash tips. None of them ever stuck around longer than a couple months, found better jobs indoors, closer to school, better pay. Well, nobody except Daniel.

Daniel worked at the vineyard for… four-ish years, with varying availability depending on seasons and school and racing.

Sometimes, when you lose yourself to sentiments and fantasy, you imagine a world where the Vineyard never faced any competition, where it is still thriving and you take over your mother’s job when she retires. Daniel still works there, maybe in the fields where he was always supposed to be, or maybe front of house guiding tours and helping you with tastings. Life is simple and plain and at the end of every night you lock the barn doors and go home together and eat dinner and grocery shop and do your taxes. Daniel strums the guitar on the porch when it rains. Life is easy and fun and you laugh more than you don’t.

It’s silly, really. But first loves are always silly.

He is one of the many memories that haunt the property, walking the lines of grapevines feeling more like a walk through a fogged out graveyard than anything.

Even now, all these years later, you can still see him sat in the swivel chair in the office doorway, throwing grapes at you while you attempt to run the dusty cash register. It’s a cool July afternoon and he’s got a stupid grin on his face and can’t look anywhere but you.

Daniel is kind of like those people you know you’re given young so that for the rest of your life you know what real feels like. They’re more a lesson than a lover, unfortunately.

—

You move through the place like you own it, which, you suppose technically you do, in some will locked away in an accountant’s filing cabinet, this all belongs to you. Right now, though, you’re seventeen and just returning from school, already setting up your homework on the end of the counter, a spattering of greetings from the local customers and the local hands, the people who know that this is more of a natural habitat than anywhere else on the planet will ever be.

Danny also moves around the place like he owns it, which, if it was up to him he probably would. He hums your name as he moves past, taps the opposite shoulder to the one he leans over, reading your textbook over your shoulder. “It’s seventeen,” he quips.

“It’s a history textbook,” you reply, eyes unmoving from the page.

“Seventeen-seventy, cunt.” There’s a half-empty bowl of fruit sitting on the counter. He leans over you to grab an orange. “Captain Hook and such,” he adds, hosting himself up onto the counter with a thud. You’re sure one day the old wood is going to give out on him and he’ll fall straight onto his ass. Part of you hopes you’re around to see it, the other knows that he’ll find a way to not only make it your fault, but also tease you about it for a minimum of six months.

“Fuck off, Danny,” you punctuate, just loud enough for him to hear.

“It’s Daniel, now.”

You snort. Finally, you give him your attention. “Danny is too unprofessional for a hot-shot Red Bull junior driver like you?”

“See,” he pops his thumb harshly through the peel of the orange, the citrus scent wafting out into the humid air. “You get it.”

You pout. “I’m still going to call you Danny.”

“No you won’t,” he laughs. God, the smell of orange is overwhelming, the kind that lingers long after the fruit is gone. When Danny goes back to work in a few minutes, tosses the peel and into the trash by the office door, he’ll still linger in the room with the smell of citrus.

“I will.”

“You know what,” he hums, biting into a slice. “Let me make you a deal.”

You smile, shake your head. “Shouldn’t I be the one making you a deal?”

He groans against the fruit, “Can you just?”

When you look up again, lean back in your chair and cross your arms, he has orange juice running down the side of his hand, all sweet and sticky and summery. “Fine.”

He smiles goofily, all fucking proud of himself just because you agreed to shut up for thirty seconds. “You can keep calling me Danny, but only if you let me take you out this weekend.”

“Danny,” you protest. This is far from the first time he’s tried to plant the seed of a date with him. It’s had to’ve been a year, by now. You know he’d drop it if you would just give him an answer, but a year later you still haven’t been able to deliver anything definitive.

He shrugs. “‘Dem’s the rules, honey.”

Maybe what you say next is your greatest mistake, or maybe it was what you were always going to say. Maybe you feel like you can say it because he leaves again soon, for longer than ever. You won’t have to live with the consequences of your actions, of your words. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s simply that you think Daniel is far too proper a name for the sticky-handed vineyard tour guide you’ve grown particularly fond of. Danny is much more fitting for him, which is most certainly why you say, okay. When are you picking me up?

—

You drive out from your parents house with your dad in his old Ford Bronco. It’s half rusted out and half chipped blue paint, with worn leather seats and a steering wheel somehow more worn than the rest of it. Seven black tree air fresheners hand from the rearview mirror, new car smell. This relic is well past that–he’s been driving it out to the property literally forever, and this trip won’t be any exception.

You hardly recognize the place, you think as you slam the squeaky door shut with enough force to make sure it really latches.

The fields are overgrown with tall grass and shrubs and mustard flowers. The trunks of the grapevines act as headstones for the sprawling field of dry, sunburnt plants. You don’t think anyone has been out there with a plow in months, if not years.

The barn, the one you grew up in, has been lost with the rest of the place to time. Red paint chips off the wood in massive flakes. The branding that had once run in big wooden letters along the top of the door have all since fallen, leaving a sad outline of your family name in its weathered wake. Two padlocks, one rusted shut, sit on the lock. Every step you take kicks up more dust.

You’re removed from your thoughts, from the hauntings and the sentiment and the memories, by the creaking of the tailgate on your father’s truck. Stuffed in the back of the Bronco are your afternoon tasks; a pair of bulk cutters for the padlocks, a new, state of the art keypad lock given to your Dad by a realtor, a post hole digger, and five for-sale signs haphazardly packed any way they would fit.

You spend most of the next couple hours digging holes along the road, filling them with the wooden posts of the for-sale signs, looking disapprovingly at the thirty-something in a suit that has been tasked with selling the unsellable property.

This is, what… the fifth person you’d hired to sell this fucking place. Soon enough, you’re going to be sticking up For Sale by Owner signs with a hand-written phone number in black sharpie along the fences that were supposed to keep animals out. Realtors were never in the budget to begin with.

—

You’re waiting on the old front porch when he pulls up in his beat-up truck, John Denver playing through the open windows, his hand moving in the wind up the entire dusty driveway. You don’t know what he can see, that your Mom is watching out the kitchen window with a friendly smile.

You’ve got your best sundress on, one that you’d debated wearing for almost thirty-six hours. The first week Danny worked in front of house with you, he spent the entire shift flirting with one of your Dad’s friend’s daughters. He said that sundresses are a crime committed against teenage boys and that when he meets God he’s going to have words with him over pretty girls and their affinity for said sundresses.

You’d laughed then, because you thought it was silly. You remembered it because you thought the new kid was kind of cute, in a you work for my parents and I could never think you’re cute way.

“Fuck,” is the first word out of his mouth, before the car door is even closed behind him, followed quickly by a check of his watch and “am I late?”

“No, no,” you smile, tucking a wind-blown strand of hair behind your ear, standing to your feet on the wooden stairs. “You’re early, actually. I think,” you chuckle. “I’m just,” you can feel your cheeks flushing. “I’m just excited.”

“Yeah,” he moves to you quickly, nervously. In the way only teenage boys on a first date do. “I’m excited too.”

“You look nice,” you say, stepping down the final couple of steps and meeting his waiting hand. “Your hair. I feel like I only ever see you in a hat.”

“Thanks, yeah,” he laughs. You’ve always loved his laugh, even when he’s annoying you and annoying customers and annoying himself. His laugh has always been good. “You look beautiful. I’ve never seen you, I mean. Not that you don’t always look–”

“Danny,” you interject as he opens the passenger side door.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he offers a smile and closes the door. Just before it latches shut, though, you hear him finish his sentence. “Thank you.”

He takes you to King’s Park, to the botanical garden after a stop for ice cream. He tells you that he’s had a crush on you this entire time and you ask him to tell you something you don’t already know. It’s then, in the botanical garden next to the water garden, that he tells you about his quote-en-quote ‘silly, kind of, like, backup dream, I guess’ where he has his own vineyard, brews his own wine and spends every day half drunk and wholly happy.

He stumbles through the entire telling of it, which is how you know he’s not fucking with you. He never gets nervous when it comes to fucking with you.

Perhaps that is where your silly, kind of like, backup dream started. The one where you and Daniel are working at the vineyard together and life is all death and taxes and grocery bills but somehow, in the midst of all the dull normalcy, you’re both happy as happy can be.

—

“Someone is out there looking at the place today,” your father tells you over the phone. You try to talk every day, a habit you’ve both picked up in the past couple years, in the time and space since you’ve turned thirty.

“You’re kidding,” you say. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, shoveling spoonfuls of some health-conscious cereal into your mouth (another post-thirtieth habit). “Who?”

“I don’t know, kid,” you swear you can hear the frown on his face, the deep smile lines and the frustrated forehead wrinkles from months in the direct southern sun. “Probably some fucking developer.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs. “If I’m right, I’d bet they break ground on a neighborhood within the year.”

Your sigh matches his. You can’t even imagine it, front yards and vinyl flooring and white walls built on a foundation of your childhood memories. It’s like going back home, to your childhood home that you sold so many years ago, and discovering it’s been bulldozed, wiped clean from the face of the Earth. “That’s so sad.”

“I know, but, well. You know, honey. It’s not like we have much choice.”

You nod. You do understand. You understand more than you wish you did. “I know. I know. Still pretty fuckin’ sad, though.”

There’s a long silence. The kind of silence that can only be shared by a father and a daughter; a silence that speaks more words than the dictionary can hold. “She’d understand it,” he finally speaks. “She wouldn’t fucking like it, but she would understand it.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know she would.”

—

“Are you going to kill me?” You giggled, stumbling over your feet. Danny is leading you on the property, one hand over your eyes, the other on your waist, guiding you poorly.

“And be the first fucking suspect?” He laughs. “I think not.”

“Okay, then where are you taking me?” You beg. It's been going on like this for some half hour, before he even covered your eyes.

He laughs. You laugh. All the two of you do is laugh. “Can’t you lighten up?”

“Not when I’m being led to my death. No, I can’t!”

He stops, turns you around a hundred and eighty degrees and takes his hand off your eyes, fingers digging into either of your shoulders. “Babe," he says, and you'd think he was about to tell you he killed someone.

You mimic his seriousness, find humor in it. “Babe.”

“You trust me.”

“Do I?” You smile. He cocks his head to one side and rolls his big brown eyes. You would commit crimes for his eyes. “I do.”

“Okay, so then fucking trust me.”

“Okay,” you nod, closing your eyes.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay," you reach blindly for his hand, bring it to your eyes to block the light from them once more. "I trust you. Let’s go.”

After a short, terribly blind walk, Danny finally stops. You’ve been able to hear the river that flows out the back of the property for twenty minutes, but it’s close enough now that you can smell it; the sticks and the rocks and the mud and the water. You can practically feel the splashing of the water bouncing off the boulders.

“Okay. Open,” he instructs, removing his hand from your eye, moving his arms to hug you from behind, arms wrapped over the front of your chest.

You open your eyes to find a picnic, carefully set up with a spread of dinner and drinks and dessert, complete with a plaid flannel blanket and candles that smell like citronella masked with lavender and a bouquet of white roses already in a water filled vase. “Danny,” you hum, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

He kisses your temple, whispers against your hair, “Happy Anniversary.”

“Danny,” you drag out the letters of his name, of the nickname he only lets the people he loves call him by. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy and special.

“Honey,” he mocks you, sways behind you.

“This is too much,” You crane your neck to look at him, and then turn your whole body so you’re flush against his chest, close in a way only you get to be. “You’re so sweet.”

He laughs and it vibrates in both of your chests. A feeling you’ll never tire of. “I mean, this is not too much. Arguably, this is too little.”

“No,” you back away, out of his grip and take small steps backwards, towards the picnic and the waiting meal, pulling him along with you by interlocked pinkies. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Well,” his grin grows. “I can’t argue with that.”

“I love you so much,” you tell him, because you do, because you’re eighteen and everything in this life is so simple and black and white.

“I love you, too, and–”

“Oh my gosh,” you cut him off, wide-eyed and giddy. “Wine with strawberries?”

He nods. “Strawberry wine, if you will. For the winery with no strawberry fields.”

“This is better,” you state, with the utmost confidence, without even a sip or a sniff or any idea of what white wine he’d used as a base for his little cocktail.

“Definitely not, but sure.”

“It is, because you made it for me. That makes it perfect.”

—

You’re completely removed from the actual buying and selling of the property. It isn’t up to you to decline or accept or field offers, that’s all your dad. The place is still his, at least for a couple more weeks while all the paperwork processes.

It was an anonymous buyer, according to your Dad. Cash offer, over asking price. He’s not sure how the real estate agent managed it, and honestly? Neither are you. Objectively, that land isn’t worth the cost of cleaning it up. Everyone in their right mind knows it. You just come from a particular bloodline where the mind never was quite right when it came to the vineyard.

What shocks you most, though, is that the anonymous buyer–supposedly–is interested in restoring the place rather than bulldozing it.

“They asked me about the dirt,” your dad tells you on one of your daily phone calls. “Wanted to know about berries.”

“Berries?”

“Yeah, strawberries or raspberries or something like that.”

You scoff. What kind of fucking idiot is buying this land? It might just be a herd of manufactured houses after all. “Well, it’s too hot here for raspberries. Everyone knows that.”

“I know, that’s what I told them. They could probably grow strawberries in July or August.”

“Are they trying to make strawberry wine or something?” And, as if this is some fucked up kind of movie, and not real life, it all comes back to you. Every memory, every moment, all at the thought of fucking strawberries in wine.

“Good fucking luck to them, if they are.” Your grandparents entertained the idea of it once, all the fruit wines. It’s a fucking shit-show, according to legend. Hell to try and make, Heaven to taste. It just wasn’t worth it for them. But apparently now it’s worth it to someone.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, bite and bite until you’re worried you’ll draw blood, that you’re a single tooth away from popping a hole clear through the skin. There’s no way, there’s genuinely no way, right? “Dad?”

“Shoot.”

“It’s not.” You almost stop yourself, you almost have some common fucking sense and realize just how vast the world is and how completely unlikely it is that– almost. You almost stop yourself. “The anonymous buyer, it isn’t Daniel, is it?”

“Daniel?” He scoffs on the other end. “Better not be that fucking cunt.”

You smile, the kind of smile that you know you should feel guilty for having. “He’s not a cunt, Dad.”

“I never fucking liked that kid.”

You’re right–you think. You’re right, Dad. You didn’t like him. “You loved him.”

“No, I lost all my respect for him when he left you like he did,” his voice is laced with a calm seriousness. He’s always been your blind defender.

“Yeah, Dad,” you pause. Now’s as good a time as any, you suppose. “I’ve been… that’s not exactly how it went down.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Daniel didn’t leave me, and even if he did, Dad, he wouldn’t have done it then.”

—

“What the fuck are you talking about, you’re breaking up with me?” His voice cuts through continents. He’s somewhere in the UK, or maybe Italy, or maybe Asia. You honestly can’t keep track anymore, can barely keep track of the days of the week that you’re living much less the ones he’s in.

“It’s exactly what I said, Daniel,” you say, try to keep your voice as level headed as possible, to juxtapose the way your mind races, the way your heart rate spikes and your palms sweat and everything in you hurts. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“No, no. I’m making this fucking hard,” he’s riled up enough for the both of you. “You don’t just. This isn’t how this works, babe. You can’t just break up with me.” He’s raising his voice with you. You can count on one hand and have fingers left over the amount of times Danny has yelled at you, and this is the first time it’s not scary.

“I can, and I am,” your voice comes from your throat, choked out over the lull of your entire body begging you to please, please don’t do this. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry!” He yells, the last letter sound cracking with the realization of his actions. “You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Okay, sure. Whatever.” He doesn’t make this easy, not that you’d expected it to be easy. You’d hoped for something cleaner, though. Less mess. “I’m having a great time breaking your heart.”

“Just. Why? Why are you doing this? What happened? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, D,” you sigh. You didn’t know that your heart could physically hurt. You thought that was some crap that they made up for movies and songs and poems, some grand metaphor for how sad you get. “I can’t be a girlfriend right now. To anyone.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

You can feel yourself shutting down, closing every part of yourself off, running on pure survival instincts. “I know. I’m a cunt.”

“You aren’t… fuck me. I mean, fuck, dude.” He laughs. There’s not a thing about it that sounds happy. “I know you don’t want this, I know it. Talk to me, please. Tell me what’s going on and I can help you and everything is going to be fine, baby. Just. Please.”

“Daniel.”

“Why are you calling me that?!”

“It’s what you like to be called!” You yell back, feel the burn in your nose and your cheeks and the sting in your chest.

There’s silence for so long you wonder if he’s hung up, if you’re supposed to. It’s minutes before he speaks again. “Not by you, it’s not.”

—

It’s been just past a year since the place got sold, and nobody from your family–nobody–has been there since. You moved out of town years before the sale, and your Dad has joined you, wants to be near you in his ever increasing age and always deepening wrinkles. When the arthritis sets in, someone needs to forge my signature for me, he tells you.

It’s not until her birthday that you’re back in Perth, that you’re struck with the sudden spark, with the idea to drive past the vineyard, to see what idiot is trying to plant raspberries in the Australian heat, to see who's living in your shoes and wearing your clothes and sleeping under your bed like a monster.

“I don’t know that we should do that,” your Dad says. “It’s going to make you sad.”

You shrug in the passenger seat of the old Bronco. “We’re in the parking lot of a cemetery, so,” you offer a near silent chuckle. “I think we’re a bit past sad.”

“Okay,” he nods. “There’s something you should know, then.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a neighborhood.”

“No, no. It’s a vineyard. Strawberries and grapes in the fields.”

“Well, good then,” you nod, glide your hands through the air outside the open window. “What’s wrong with it?”

He shrugs, drums his fingers on the beat up steering wheel. “You remember when you asked me last year if it was Daniel?”

“Dad. Don’t.”

“Well, I didn’t know it then, but–”

“I’m serious. Don’t tell me this, please,” you’re a second away from sticking your fingers in your ears and humming a nursery rhyme to keep the unsaid unspoken.

“Daniel bought the place, hon.”

“My Daniel?” You squeak. You haven’t felt this young in a while. Or this small.

He laughs, turns to face you with a look that begs you not to be so damn daft. “The only Daniel that means anything to anyone in this family.”

“When did you find out?”

“As soon as they put the sign up. I was still living out here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You have so many questions. You don’t think there’s any you actually want answers to.

“What good was it going to do? I never thought you’d be back here.”

“Well. I’m back.”

He nods. “You’re back.”

You’re back. You never really left, you don’t think. It’s not something you can do around here. Perth is in your blood the same way wine is, some grand, immovable part of your soul. You suppose Daniel is there too, taking up a plot of land in your soul that can never be sold. He lives in you like summertime and sadness and strawberries. Strawberries. Him and his fucking strawberry white wines.

“He’s got strawberries?” You croak. Tears pull on your voice but you won’t give them the satisfaction. You’re grown now, it’s time to fucking act like it.

“Strawberry wine. First batches just came out last month. I heard it’s pretty good.”

“I bet.”

“You still wanna go?”

You nod, cold and stunted. “Yeah.”

You see the cars before you see the barn, they’re overflowing out of the parking lot and stopped on the side of the dirt road that leads to the drive. You’ve never seen it so busy. It looks like the pictures your parents used to show you, the ones where the place was fresh and new and shiny. The barn has a fresh coat of red paint, the parking lot is repaved and half full of ATVs with a logo for DR3 Wines printed on either side.

Above the door, a matching phrase, in simple white wooden letters–like what once was–hangs, announces the place to passers by.

Inside, it smells like wood, like lavender and citronella and alcohol. There are pictures on every wall, carefully framed photos of everyone in the world besides him. The counter is that same old slab of wood, the one that you always hoped he would fall through. On the wall behind is are more 4x6 photos than you can count, all unframed, all messily taken. He’s in some of those, holding a camera or posing with friends or hugging a grapevine. There’s one with you, right in the middle. You and he and your Mom on the back field picking grapes. It’s taken by your dad, you still remember that morning clear as day.

There’s another of you; a selfie taken on a point-and-shoot, the two of you with glasses of white wine and strawberries. Next to it is a picture of Kristen Bell and Dax Shephard leaning against the counter, half-drunk glasses in each of their hands.

Framed, on the edge of the counter, right beside the register, is a photo of the place when he first started working there, of your Mom and your Dad standing proudly in front of it. You took it. You left it in the office when your Dad decided to lock the doors for good. Our Story, the plaque below it reads, with a QR code to scan.

It leads to a linktree, to social media links and tasting menus and a merchandise shop. The last link, though, is stomach curling. It’s her name, your Mom’s. Fighting for her, it reads. When you click it, you’re taken to a website that encourages donations, that spreads awareness and promotes research, that thanks Daniel by name twice in two paragraphs for his consistent and generous donations and support.

Before you can make a bee-line for the exit, to tell your Dad that he was right and this was a mistake, you’re met with a red-faced teenage girl asking you if there’s anything she can help you with. “No, uh,” you swallow hard. “My parents were the previous owners, we just stopped in to see the place.”

“Oh my gosh, would you like a tour?”

“Um…” you pause, because you don’t know if you can handle being here. Seeing the place like this again. “Danny’s not… Daniel isn’t here, is he?” She shakes her head. You nod. “Then yeah, I guess. Let me just grab my dad?”

��

You get an invite to a VIP tasting at his vineyard two weeks after your visit. It’s scheduled during the F1 summer break, so you have no doubt he’ll be there, and if that wasn’t clue enough, his handwriting glaring back at you on the invite is about as obvious as obvious can be.

I hear you’re snooping around the old stomping grounds. I’d love to be there when you do it. Bring your Dad if he’s free. It’ll be a good night, lots of strawberry wine–the real shit this time. All love, (always your) Danny.

read part two, everywhere, everything, here!

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agentrouka-blog · 4 months ago

Note

Sometimes I think GRRM is much more sensitive to Sansa than he is to Dany, regarding their dynamics with older men.

I think he's trying to say something about Dany by the way she perceives these men and their interactions, and not in an unsympathetic way.

The Stark children aren't somehow inherently better or "made different" than other characters in the series. We see them face horrible things, but often times we also see them magically spared from sharing a fate that is depicted happening to their mirrors. Take the miller's sons dying in the place of Bran and Rickon. Take the horrible tales of rape and murder that Arya only ever overhears. Take Lollys vs. Sansa during the riots. Some of it is happenstance, some of it is their noble status, some of it is prior relationships, some of it is simply plot armor.

But the key of their emotional resiliance lies in the fact that their parents loved them, modeled a reasonably stable and loving marriage, and raised them with attention and principles. They were not perfect by far, and utterly products of their time, but they were solid and they were present. The Stark children have a sense of how the world can work and they have a sense of self that is fairly secure, even through hardship.

Characters like Dany, or Tyrion, or Cersei, tend to become what they are because they are not spared in key ways. And they did not have that crucial foundation.

Dany is not raised lovingly. She is not spared marital rape. She has no home to cling to in her memories, no model of healthy family dynamics - and literally no one who ever bothers to try and genuinely help her for her own sake.

So she doesn't know what healthy dynamics are. Not true justice, not consent, not a relationship of equals, not genuine tenderness. She can't take refuge in her inner child, she killed her in chapter three. She has no healthy outlet for her grief and her rage. She has no concept of a happy future that isn't tied to power. She has no framework for a different reality. And that is what we see play out in her arc. And that is also why her relationships with men are depicted as they are. The misery she experiences in reality is unmitigated by even a sense of injustice and validation of her pain by anyone around her. So she erases that misery from her reality. She invents an uneasy pretense of equality based on her queenship and later her dragons that leaves her feeling empty and powerless without understanding why.

She may never ever understand why.

It's a tragedy. It's the tragedy, that, I think, GRRM is trying to tell through her. She should have been given help. Any scrap of love, and she may not have become what she did.

So when Sansa is spared and emotionally survives on a privilege of having been loved, we must also imbue her character with the obligation to pass it on, to show mercy, to love, to help. Same with the rest of the Starks.

And when they fail, like Robb did, they will not prosper.

#rouka queue #anti daenerys targaryen #not really #only because i see her as a villain in the books #sansa starks #foils #tragedy #emotional scars #child abuse

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yelena-bellova · 1 year ago

Text

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Part of the Team

Plot: On her first day working for KJPR, Y/n tours AFC Richmond’s facility and meets some of the staff.

Warnings: language, use of f!reader, (16+)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Well, first off, thank you for the lovely response! I certainly didn’t endeavor to write anything for Ted Lasso (I was actually going to take a writing break) but this idea seemed good enough to indulge.

This has been added to the taglist in my bio, so don’t be afraid to click it and add yourself. It will be kept 16+ just for language and the show’s subject matter so I won’t be adding anyone unless your age/range is specified in your bio.

All that being said, I hope this nurses a little bit of your finale hangover. No Greyhounds to be found in this chapter, but a wild Ted does appear. Writing for him is going to be a hilarious exercise for me lol. Enjoy!!

—————————

Wanting to be prepared, Y/n had started doing research on AFC Richmond the morning after accepting Keeley’s job offer.

The slight buzz she’d managed at the bar had blocked from her memory that she knew more about Rebecca Welton than she thought. Years before, she’d seen her face splashed across all the tabloids at news stands and markets talking about her divorce from…for the life of her, Y/n couldn’t remember the man’s name. All she remembered is there’d been perfect pictures of him and his various models of the months, while the cameras always managed to catch Rebecca with a sour look on her face. Y/n remembered feeling like she could read the whole situation without without ever perusing a filthy word.

As she studied, Y/n put together that Richmond consisted of three coaches. The manager, Ted Lasso, was a name the whole country knew, regardless of whether you watched football or not. It wasn’t Y/n’s place to judge, but she assumed if he was still around, there was a reason. He’d brought along an assistant coach from the states with him, along with Roy Kent joining their staff the previous season. Another name she didn’t need to bother to learn as it was already burned in every Brit’s brain. There also seemed to be a scandal with a previous coach, Nathan Shelley, having abandoned Richmond for West Ham United as Richmond reentered the Premier League.

Having gone to school in London and staying after, Y/n had gone to plenty of football matches with friends. Much like American sports, she’d never been as interested as those surrounding her, but she enjoyed the atmosphere. However, she pulled up highlights of old Richmond matches on Youtube and studied them to try and get a feel for the players. Two in particular stood out to her.

Sam Obisanya caught her attention for his raw talent, the graceful way he managed to move in such a brutal sport. She’d also seen the way he handled himself in press conferences, always soft and well spoken. He’d been fearless in his defense of Nigeria, his home country, and against Dubai Air and Cerithium Oil. She had mad respect for him and his bravery.

Then there was Jamie Tartt. Going through videos of his stints at Richmond left Y/n puzzled. He seemed to have started out the cocky striker, too busy kissing his own foot to realize there were twenty more on the pitch waiting to shine. He never passed. He never assisted. It was all him. But then, after his swift departure and return to the team, his playing style shifted. Suddenly, he did pass. He did assist. A few months difference and it was practically night and day.

Y/n sighed as she shut her laptop, having just finished the video of him letting Dani Rojas take the penalty goal that secured Richmond’s return to the Premier League. She hoped Jamie Tartt, and all other Greyhounds, wouldn’t be a PR headache.

The night before she officially started at KJPR, Y/n found herself nervous. It seemed like too ideal of a situation to meet someone at a bar and be offered a job right after losing yours. She felt hesitant to trust that when she walked into Keeley’s office, she wouldn’t find a complete nightmare. She went to sleep with a clenched jaw and stiff shoulders, praying that this wouldn’t be another loss to face.

—————————

Y/n pulled up to the KJPR office building at 8:55. She adjusted her carefully ironed pants, smoothed down her blouse and blazer and took a deep breath. Her capabilities were the one place her insecurities had no place living. She was good at what she did, she just needed a place to do it.

When the elevator doors opened, she was surprised to find a small office with multiple occupied desks set up. Keeley had made it sound much smaller than it actually was.

“Y/n!”

A familiar voice exclaimed and Y/n peered across the room to see Keeley rushing out from behind her desk and bursting out her office door.

“I’m so glad you showed,” she grinned as she scurried to Y/n and took hold of her hands.

“You offered me a job and you thought I wasn’t going to show up?” Y/n asked with a confused chuckle.

“I mean, to be fair, I offered it to you in a restaurant after, like, a glass and a half of wine,” Keeley replied, “I’m not sure I’d have believed me either.”

Y/n laughed a little, very aware that all her fellow employees were not only watching the unprofessional display, but hearing the story of her even more unprofessional hiring.

“Should we…” Y/n gestured towards Keeley’s office.

“Oh, right,” Keeley practically shouted, leading Y/n back and through the door.

True to the little Y/n knew about the woman, Keeley’s office was head to toe…Keeley. Pink everything, floral patterns, a ceramic jungle cat in the corner…it was, most definitely, the most unique of any boss’s office Y/n had ever entered.

“Right,” Keeley said as she took a seat on the couch in the corner, leaving a spot for Y/n, “Let’s get to it.”

Y/n settled onto the couch, leaving a fair amount of space that Keeley immediately cut in half.

“So I know you said that you’ve been more of a manager lately, but that you’re good with PR,” Keeley recounted, “What did you do for you last companies?”

“Oh, I floated around a lot,” Y/n began to mentally run through her old positions, “I managed small teams under a much larger umbrella of board members. Minor stuff. But in the public relations department, I’ve been in charge of social media campaigns, run a few accounts, and handled plenty of press conferences, interviews, that sort of thing.”

Keeley’s smile grew with each task that Y/n listed off. “I think you might be the most perfect fucking fit!”

Language, another unprofessionalism Y/n felt she was going to have to get used to.

“Before all of this happened,” Keeley gestured to the frilly space around them, “I did full time PR for AFC Richmond and did all that kind of stuff. That’s actually where I wanted to potentially start you off.”

Y/n shrugged, silently grateful she’d gone the extra mile with her research, “I’ll go anywhere you need me.”

“Perfect,” Keeley grinned, already getting off the couch, “I was actually heading over there for a meeting with Rebecca. It’d be a great opportunity to show you around and introduce you to some of the staff.”

“Uh, sure,” Y/n quickly picked her purse back off the floor.

“I really think you’re gonna love it there,” Keeley continued, collecting her bag and a pink binder, “I feel bad I’m not there full-time anymore. It really is one of the best places to work.”

As Keeley spoke, Y/n followed her out of the office. She struggled to keep up with how fast Keeley managed to move in her high heels. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, a brunette woman passed them by.

“Oh, Barbara,” Keeley called out, “I want you to meet the newest member of KJPR. This is Y/n.”

Barbara looked Y/n over from top to bottom as if inspecting the latest crop. Y/n’s confidence in her extended hand began to drop under the pair of judging eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n,” Barbara seemed to shake her hand with caution before turning to Keeley, “You didn’t mention anything about bringing on a new hire, Miss Jones.”

Keeley visibly shrank at Barbara’s words, “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“Ah,” Barbara replied, turning back to Y/n, “May I ask what, if any, experience you have?”

Looking between Barbara and Keeley, Y/n listed off the positions she’d previously held and the companies names. With each title, Barbara’s frown turned into…something between a smile and a frown.

“Ah, well,” Barbara took a breath, “Lovely. Welcome to KJPR.”

With one more firm shake of her hand, Barbara departed, off to whatever task needed her attention. Keeley and Y/n were left in an awkward silence not of their creation.

“We’re still getting to know one another,” Keeley explained with a nervous smile.

“I got that,” Y/n nodded.

“Right,” Keeley shifted gears and gestured towards the elevator, “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

—————————

Richmond wasn’t far from the heart of London, where Y/n had spent most of her time. Functioning nearly exclusively within the corporate world had kept her within a bubble that rarely gave her opportunities to venture outside its walls.

As Keeley drove them through Richmond, making pleasant small talk, Y/n’s eyes were transfixed on the sights. Nothing was particularly extraordinary looking, but compared to the grays and blacks of London office buildings, the place was like a daydream someone like her might create during their 9-5.

“Do you live near here?”

“Hmm?” Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, “Oh, I’m about 30 minutes away. But I’ve never really spent any time here.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Keeley replied, turning them down another road, “You should take some time this weekend to roam around.”

Y/n filed the idea away, first she needed to confirm that AFC Richmond was the right fit.

Soon enough, Keeley pulled them into the parking lot of Nelson Road Stadium. Y/n recalled that she’d been there once to see a match with friends in college, but that had been on the spectator side. Parking mere feet away from the pitch felt surreal, even for a non-football fan.

“I’m gonna take you up to Rebecca first,” Keeley said as she shut her car door, “None of the players or coaches’ll be here since they’re still on break.”

Y/n followed alongside her, entering the stadium through the side doors. The inside of the building was painted in team colors of blue and red. Along the walls, there were trophies and framed pictures showcasing the Greyhound’s accomplishments over the decades. The history of the club was something Y/n had yet to do research on, but even ten minutes spent in the halls would tell her more than Wikipedia probably could.

Keeley led them up two flights of stairs till the colors of the walls changed to neutrals. The door at the top of the steps hung open, but Keeley still gave a courteous knock.

Rebecca looked up from her desk, smiling when she recognized the two guests. “Good morning,” she said, cheerily.

“Hi, babe,” Keeley smiled, “I brought Y/n with today. Thought it might be good for her to tour the place.”

“Of course,” Rebecca rose from her chair and met Keeley and Y/n in the middle of the room. She brought Y/n in for a half hug, half handshake, “I’m absolutely thrilled you’re here.”

“Oh,” Y/n smiled, awkwardly accepting the greeting, “I’m…pleased to be here.”

“Right,” Rebecca released her and gestured for the women towards the couch, “I’m not sure what Keeley has planned for you, but we’re never without work here.”

Before Y/n could voice her neutrality, Keeley spoke up.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she began, “I’d really like to have another pair of hands on the club, just in case there’s anything I might miss,” Keeley turned to Y/n, “I’d love to put you exclusively on Richmond duty.”

“Like I said, I’ll go where I’m needed,” Y/n raised both her hands in surrender to their plans.

Rebecca exhaled and grinned, “Perfect. Like I said, there’s never a shortage of work. With this being our first season back in the Premier League, there’s plenty of press to be handled.”

“I’m happy to go wherever I’m needed,” Y/n restated, deciding it was best to just go with the flow of things.

A knock at the door turned their attention.

“Good morning, ladies,” a shorter man sporting a suit and glasses entered the room.

“Higgins,” Keeley greeted.

“Good morning, Leslie,” Rebecca smiled, “I’d like you to meet KJPR, and Richmond’s, newest addition, Ms. Y/n Y/l/n. Leslie is our director of football operations.”

“Ah,” Higgins nodded, coming to the couch to extend his hand, “Welcome to the team, Ms. Y/l/n.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Y/n said politely, shaking his hand before sitting back down.

“Y/n will be helping Keeley handle the PR department,” Rebecca further explained, before her train of thought visibly halted, “Hang on…” she looked to Keeley, “Your old office is still vacant.”

Keeley gasped, “It is.”

Y/n’s eyes bounced back and forth between the woman.

“If Keeley can spare your presence at the KJPR office,” Rebecca placed a hand on her best friend’s arm, “How would you feel about working here?”

Searching for her words as quick as she could, Y/n shrugged one shoulder. “I’m completely fine with that,” she looked to her boss, “If Keeley’s alright with it.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Keeley smiled, “I’d actually love it if we had feet on the ground here.”

Y/n blinked. Just like that, everything was settled.

“Excellent,” Rebecca clapped her hands together once, “Shall we go for a tour?”

“Ah, that was going to be my suggestion,” Higgins spoke back up.

Never before had Y/n been swept up so quickly in a job. Nothing moved that fast in the corporate world.

Keeley, Rebecca and Higgins led her back down to the main floor of the facility. Higgins and Rebecca spouted off a few historical facts about Richmond that Y/n logged away. Rebecca reiterated Keeley’s earlier statement that since they were still on break, Y/n wouldn’t be meeting the players and the coaching staff until training began the following week. Nonetheless, Y/n felt like she was somehow encroaching on the Greyhound’s territory as the tour led to the locker room.

“This will be the only time you enter and the smell is pleasant,” Rebecca quipped.

Y/n chuckled, her heels clicking against the floor as she scanned the numbers above each locker.

“Any favorites amongst our Greyhounds?” Higgins asked playfully.

“Oh, no,” Y/n paused to answer, just below Jamie Tartt’s ‘9.’

“Y/n has openly admitted to not having partaken in much of the sport,” Rebecca added.

“But I’m very excited to make Richmond my club,” Y/n was quick to do damage control over what her tipsier self had admitted, “I think what you all have accomplished here is brilliant.”

The sound of a door opening on the other side of the locker room turned their heads. A man jogged into the coach’s office, bending over one of the desks in search of something.

“That’s odd,” Rebecca muttered, stepping forward and opening up the connecting door, “Ted, what are you doing here?”

Y/n followed Keeley and Higgins’ lead and entered the room. She could finally get a clear view at the man who was, indeed, Ted Lasso.

“Oh, last time he was visiting, Henry left somethin’ in my desk and we needed to come grab it,” Ted answered, searching through one of his drawers until he retrieved whatever he was seeking.

“Ah, well, lovely timing,” Rebecca gestured for Y/n to come forward, “You can meet the newest addition to AFC Richmond. This is Ms. Y/n Y/l/n. She’ll be helping Keeley head up the PR department.”

Ted gave a friendly smile and stuck out his hand, “Well, how ‘bout that? Welcome to the family! I’m Ted.”

Y/n gave a firm handshake and returned the smile, “Y/n.”

The simple utterence of her name caught Ted’s ear. “Hang on now,” he stopped and held up both his hands, “Am I dreamin’ or do I actually hear a lack of accent?”

The five of them laughed to varying degrees. “It’s nice to hear a little bit of home for me as well,” Y/n said warmly. It had been at least four months since she’d met someone who hailed from the states that wasn’t a tourist.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Ted continued, still shaking Y/n’s hand, “It’s gonna be real nice to have someone around here who’ll understand what I’m sayin’. Like if I text the word ‘color,’ nobody’s gonna tell me it ain’t the right spelling. Or if I mention Chick-Fil-A, they won’t think I’m just shortenin’ the name of a delicious entree. Matter a fact,” Ted came up for a lightning quick breath, “Where we at with that? Is it still okay to eat there? Waters were a little murky ‘round the time I left.

Y/n was trying to process the speed in which the man spoke. “Uh, I don’t know,” she answered politely, “I haven’t been home in a while.”

Ted hummed in reply and moved on, “Well, we’re real happy that you’re here. Hey, you need anything, don’t be afraid to gimme a holler.”

“That’s very kind,” Y/n nodded as Ted finally released her hand, “Thank you.”

“Well, I gotta run,” Ted announced to his co-workers, “I got Liam out there watchin’ Henry. See y’all next week!”

With a chorus of farewells following him, Ted Lasso walked back out the way he’d come.

“Well,” Y/n began, trying to sum up her first impression as tidily as she could, “That was-“

“I felt the same way at first,” Rebecca interjected, “But truly, one of the nicest human beings you will ever meet.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keeley agreed, sweeping her hand through the air, “Seriously, spend one day with him and he’ll be your emergency contact by lunch.”

“The players love him,” Higgins added to their defense.

But it wasn’t Ted’s personality Y/n was startled by. Ted was the midwest personified, that was all familiar. It was the speed in which Ted had offered up his kindness, how at ease he was voicing every thought on his mind. That, to Y/n, was more disarming than anything else he could have done.

“Well, I look forward to getting to know him more,” Y/n said, and there was truth to it. She appreciated co-workers who were actually pleasant to be around, even if Ted was a lot to take, “And the other coaches.”

“Why don’t I show you where your office is?” Rebecca suggested.

Their welcome wagon moved up to the second floor where, at the end of the hall, lay the space in question. It was half the size of Rebecca’s office, which was more than enough for Y/n. She’d last been in a shared cubicle far too small for two people to comfortably fit.

“My office is just at the end of the hall,” Higgins said as Y/n took in the space, “If you ever need anything.”

“It’s lovely,” Y/n smiled, her eyes running over her desk. She turned back towards the door and faced Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins, “Thank you all so much for all the hospitality you’ve shown.”

“Nonsense,” Higgins spoke for the trio, “You’re part of the family now.”

The same unease that had come from interacting with Ted Lasso filled Y/n once again.

The rest of the day was spent bouncing between Keeley and Higgins, discussing PR strategies for the new season and learning about the club’s operations. By the time 5:00 came around, Y/n felt like she had information spilling out of her ears. Her mind was filled to its brim.

After Keeley dropped her back off at the KJPR office, telling her she dazzled on her first day and wishing her a good evening, Y/n hopped in her car and drove right back to Richmond. She had no dinner plans and thought Keeley’s idea to explore the city worthwhile.

She decided on the pub they’d driven past on their way to Nelson Road, the Crown and Anchor. With it being a weeknight, it wasn’t too crowded, and she found a spot at the bar, ordering a sandwich for herself.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” the woman tending bar said after Y/n had placed her order, “You new to town, love?”

“Oh, no,” Y/n shook her head before scrunching her eyebrows, “Well, sort of. I live closer to the city but I just started a job here.”

“Ah,” the white haired woman replied as she filled a pint, handing it to a customer, “Where at?”

Y/n wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were about working for a football club. Were you supposed to go around sharing that information? Or did it mean you’d have thirty drunken fans hounding you for tickets suddenly?

“AFC Richmond,” she answered truthfully, “Public relations.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised an inch, seemingly impressed. “Well, that’s the right answer to get your meal on the house.”

Y/n laughed a little, relaxing slightly.

“Good first day then?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Y/n bobbed her head from side to side, “I mean, I really just met co-workers and learned the basics. No complaints so far.”

“Did you meet Ted yet?”

“I did,” Y/n answered, slightly confused, “You know Coach Lasso?”

The woman pointed towards the pub doors, “Lives on just the other side of the building. Comes in a couple nights a week. He’s a good man.”

“That he is,” Y/n nodded, not wanting to tarnish anyone’s reputation with her own discomforts, “Definitely tries to make you feel welcome.”

“Oh,” the woman was now coming to lean against Y/n’s side of the bar, “He won’t stop until you know you’re welcomed. Best to just let it happen. Whatever he’s done to Richmond, it works.”

It hadn’t escaped Y/n’s notice that in the two seasons Ted Lasso had been coaching the Greyhounds, there was a shift in…everything. Between videos of the players on the pitch, to little stories interspersed in her conversations with Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins throughout the day, Y/n was given the impression that Ted Lasso was a miracle worker. It didn’t take much thought to deduce that Ted was going to try and integrate her into their team as well.

“Well,” Y/n shrugged slightly, seeing that her sandwich was coming around from the kitchen, “I mean, it’s just a job. It’s not supposed to change your life or anything.”

Just as she was about to be handed her meal, the white haired woman took it from the waiter’s hands. Y/n could tell she wasn’t getting her food until the bartender had spoken her piece.

“You just watch out, love,” the woman warned with a smile, “Whole city hated Ted when he arrived, and now take a look.”

She gestured to the space around the bar as if Y/n was supposed to be seeing the peace.

“The best things that happen to us are usually the most unexpected,” she continued, giving her a wink.

Y/n drew a breath, locking onto the woman’s every syllable.

“You’re part of Richmond now,” the woman continued on, “Whether it changes your life or not isn’t up to you.”

Without another word, the woman set Y/n’s sandwich in front of her and went off to tend to another patron.

Y/n was fearful to move, lest the bartender’s words appear in thin air and smack her thoughts into line. What was this strange hold the word ‘Richmond’ seemed to have on people? Y/n had lived long enough in England to know how passionate people got about their football clubs, but this was different. This was dedication separate from the sport itself, rather devotion to the inner workings. To the coaches. To the heart of AFC Richmond itself.

Higgin’s words came back to her, part of the family. It all filled Y/n with an anxiety she’d never quite been able to put a name to.

Regardless of what the culture was, on and off the pitch, she was determined to keep to herself. Interact pleasantly with her co-workers and the team, but no more than necessary. Be proficient at the tasks given to her. Stay in her lane.

Family or not, Y/n decided as she bit into her dinner, she was there to do a job and nothing more.

——————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #keeley jones x reader #ted lasso x reader #rebecca welton x reader #jamie tartt x reader #heartfirst

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sserajeans · 1 year ago

Text

you are in love | 24. match made in ocean

- gyuthegoofy started a video call.

- ynthesexy, hanthebitch, and wonythemvp joined the call.

audio directory: wonyoung, leehan, gyuvin, y/n

—

"so what are we supposed to be looking at here?"

"the fundraiser proposal.... again."

"someone needs to hold me back before i commit a REAL HEINOUS CRIME against that hagrat excuse of a principal."

"i'm so glad you said that over call instead of text 'cause..."

"shut up."

"wait guys focus please..."

"right sorry."

"i'm using all the brain juice i got i swear but this is so hard."

"right? i have no idea how serenades didnt pass..."

"as much as i'd hate singing around with y/n it was a good idea as a fundraiser. low cost."

"matches the school tradition too. i don't know why so many people confess around christmas time, but it could've worked!"

"for real. hagrat lim."

"you're going down with y/n."

"absolutely not! how could the ever-so-lovely scholar kim gyuvin be disrespectful to his teachers! meanwhile school jock swim captain lee y/n..."

"I'M NOT EVEN A JOCK?"

"we're definitely getting off topic."

"oops..."

"anyways..."

"i think we should definitely stick to something on the romance side. it just sells more?"

"yeah, we can make it a little general for people who wanna do it for friends or family too."

"okay so... romance... romantics... what's something you guys would like to receive?"

"flowers without pollen."

"i laughed a bit i'm sorry."

"jellies!"

"candy could be low-cost, but won't the students feel like they could just buy them from the grocery or the cafeteria?"

"flowers could work. it's quite tiresome to pass by florist shops these days, so having them close by is convenient. sorry, y/n."

"i mean... i guess i'll be fine if i take the medicine before leaving?"

"i'm sorry y/n... we'll keep this as a backup idea so we can continue looking for something better and less... life threatening?"

"it's okay guys i don't mind it as long as principal lim gets off our back."

"we'll think of something else y/n... this'll just be the absolute last resort."

"speaking of flowers and y/n's pollen allergy though..."

"i know where this is going."

"I'M SORRY OKAY.... we just, or i, just wanna know!"

"didn't i tell you already??"

"details, y/n... details!!"

"I ALMOST DIED GYU..."

"LMAO PLEASE..."

"okay so you almost died... DETAILS!!"

"fine..."

"stay strong lee y/n..."

"we went to the cafe after practice, we talked about stuff. started with classes and how she's adjusting to the workload of juniors, then how i'm going around with colleges as an athlete. speaking of which, coach gave me a semi-scolding over text earlier today, but moving on."

"god he dumps the pressure of the swim team's success on you as if he isn't the literal COACH."

"for real like y/n is human too... hello?"

"yeah, then when we got to the cafe we had a mini argument over who was gonna pay but the cashier suggested to pay for our own, so that's what we did."

"you're so... anti-romantic."

"what? what did i do??"

"you're supposed to pay for her regardless, like never back down."

"NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT?"

"NEVER GIVE UP!!"

"but it was a date that dani asked for, so? kinda cancels out right, wony?"

"hm... i guess.. anyways, continue, y/n."

"well... yeah after i updated wony via text when i was in the toilet, we mostly talked about our interests and stuff. so me and movies, music, and mostly swim."

"90% swim. you might've bored her to death..."

"don't say that!"

"i'm being honest! she might've thought you were a fish in your past life or something..."

"she brought up swim in the conversation first actually! she said she swims a lot whenever she goes back home to australia during the summers."

"well isn't that a lovely surprise? match made in heaven!"

"match made in ocean.."

"she definitely knows how to keep y/n hooked that's for sure."

"oh yeah... great pair in that sense!"

"what were the other interests she talked about?"

"flowers, plants, nature in general! she's so outdoorsy."

"this is so ironic 'cause didn't you almost fail biology?"

"so that's where the park part came from..."

"no i did not almost fail bio... it just simply is my lowest scoring subject okay..."

"whatever you say!"

"but yeah that's when she brought up the park, and i just couldn't say no. she was talking about how this specific flower only bloomed in autumn and she wanted to see it at its first day."

"you didn't bother telling her you had an allergy?"

"she sounded so excited you guys i didn't want to ruin that... and i guess i kinda wanted to see the flowers too, they were really pretty! i'll show you pics."

"you couldn't say no to flowers... so you just put your life at risk instead?"

"i had a mask! and i didn't think it'd react that bad again."

"right."

"so yeah that's all that happened, really."

"sounds like you had a fun enough time to almost kill yourself!"

"OH MAN....."

"YES I DID! okay? i did have a fun time! she's really nice, cute, pretty, outgoing and all. we talked about going to a different nature park to rent bikes next time."

"i'm kicking my feet in the air right now you guys have no idea."

"we do actually."

"and don't bother showing us."

"yeah we can go a day without seeing your feet gyu."

"I DIDN'T EVEN OFFER?"

"you'd do it whether we liked it or not, unfortunately."

"she's right on that... AND DID YOU SAY NEXT TIME?"

"SHE DID!!"

"weren't we supposed to be finishing work so we could be free tomorrow? right we were! isn't that right, wony?"

"but... but that's... fine, yeah."

"wonderful! let's get back to work then!"

masterlist. next.

taglist: @yyeonmis @lostamoeba @jisooftme @yoontoonwhs @awkwardtoafault @kvnii @lcv3lies @limbforalimb @spritin @kaypanaq @i06kkura @manooffline @kimsgayness @justme-idle @jenaissantex @mightymyo @sewiouslyz @txtbrainrot @li0ilthecxnt @captivq @paranoxic @sofakingwoso @daniellobers @pandafuriosa60 @haerinkisser @staryujinnie @wowowowcake @lesleepyyy @haechansbbg @rosiehrs @jiwoneiric

#newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans smau #newjeans fanfic #hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader #hanni imagines #hanni smau #kim minji #mo jihye #danielle marsh #kang haerin #lee hyein

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 2 years ago

Text

Teeth

Part 8!

Werepanther! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Robbery, knives, angst.

A/N: Look, *deep breath* I'm sorry.

I should just forget about him, you think to yourself on the walk home.

It was embarrasing, you hadn't seen him in days since he left you in that elevator, and the absence of him managed to make you feel even worse.

He hadn't been home either, you'd kept the curtains parted so that you could catch any movements in his windows. So far, nothing.

It had made you feel so upset and you couldn't even figure out why. Maybe you were getting too attached to him.

Exposing yourself so intimately, sabotaging your work relationship and there was nothing to be gained from it anyway. He just wasn't interested in you like that.

You were maybe a little glad too, at least you knew you weren't in any trouble for the little show you'd put on.

Or were you?

What if his stoicism towards you was because he was planning to fire you.

No, no, it made no sense, his phone call after he'd seen you had been too intimate. If there was going to be any consequences, it would have happened by now.

Right?

Ugh, you didn't know, and you just wanted to forget this had ever happened.

You sigh, tugging your phone out and absentmindedly trying to book an appointment with your therapist. Maybe she would help you feel better about your new work environment.

Your shoulder bumps harshly into someone, and you raise your head to apologise.

You've made a wrong turn somewhere, too taken in with your phone to notice that you've turned down an isolated alleyway.

"S-sorry." You murmur, backing away, only to bump into another figure.

Holy shit this was bad.

"Give me the bag." The first man says evenly, angling his head toward the pale pink handbag hanging off your elbow.

"Please, I don't want any trouble." You say, pocketing your phone quickly, carefully pressing the power button a couple of times to send a distress signal. You had it set so that Dani and Amy would receive alerts if you needed help.

The first man, pulls a knife out of his pocket, you watch warily as the blade springs out of the handle with a wicked glint. You can feel your phone begin to vibrate endlessly as your friends try to call to figure out if this was accidental or not.

Your heart is racing, but you find that your thinking is razor sharp, only a little bit of panic swimming through you.

If there had been only one man, running would have been a good option, but with the second man at your back, you have no choice but to surrender your bag.

Your work laptop was in there, and your wallet, you really hated to lose either one of those things.

The man takes it from you and then steps closer, his knife still pointed in your direction.

"Now the jewellery and the phone." He prompts.

Your hands shake, you needed to find a way to keep holding onto your phone.

You tug your watch off easily, and your earrings, they were just cheap pieces that were your favourite, but ultimately replaceable.

The panther necklace, was not, and you would not give it up without a fight, however stupid that would be.

You extend your watch and earrings to the man, letting them slip from your hand at the very second and watching it fall.

It's that moment, with one man distracted, you turn to run.

The other man is fast, he reaches for you, pushes you into the nearby wall.

You're stunned for a moment, and you feel the scrape of his nails as he tears your necklace off your neck, and when he gets in close to grab your phone, you bring your knee up to kick him straight between the legs. He bends over in pain, and you take the opportunity to slip away, running as fast as you can out of the lonely alley. You don't stop until you're out in a public place.

You reach for your phone, pulling it out, several missed calls from both Dani and Amy flood your phone.

You update them quickly, and they direct you to the nearest police precinct.

As you head there, you dial Anvil's IT department, explaining the situation so that they can restrict access from your account to the server.

You're sitting in the precinct when Amy makes it to you. She takes you into a hug, pulling back to study your form.

Her eyes catch the two deep scratches on your neck, short red lines where the man's nails had clawed into you while ripping your necklace from your neck.

She hugs you again tighter than before, surprising you with her strength.

"I'm okay." You mumble against her shoulder.

Honestly, you couldn't feel a thing, your emotions had been shocked numb from the minute you'd seen the knife.

What rotten luck, to have experienced what you have, essentially hitting some type of morbid trifecta, a murderer, a stalker and now a thief.

You find yourself laughing into Amy's shoulder, and you can't stop.

She pulls back in shock, looking up at you.

You laugh harder when you see the concerned expression on her face.

"There's too many plot points," You try to explain to her, though you're not sure you're making any sense, "If my life was a book this would be a shitty amount of coincidence."

There's a quiet silence as she takes in your words, observing your laughter, and notes the way your eyes fill with tears.

"Oh love," She murmurs after a moment. "Multiple bad things happen to people all the time."

Your laughter turns sour, something awful fills your throat, your lip trembles for a small moment as you fight the emotion, and then like a dam breaking, it spills from you in little sobs.

"This is too much," You gasp, feeling her arms squeeze you tighter as you cry, "Why do these things keep happening to me?"

You cry harder against her, she soothes you with her embrace.

"They took my necklace." You say sadly against her.

She makes a sympathetic sound. She knew how much it means to you.

"We'll get it back, love, didn't you have a tag in your bag just for this reason?"

"Yeah," you sniffle, "there's one in my wallet, I gave the cops access to find it, and Anvil also has something on the laptop."

"See? Don't lose hope yet."

You sigh, there was a location on your wallet and laptop, but there was no guarantee that the necklace would even be in the same place. You felt so disconnected now, so unsafe. There was no panther coming to protect you here.

"Why don't we go home? If the police find anything, they can call you. Waiting here is too tedious." Amy suggests, and you nod in agreement, sniffling a little and pulling away. She tugs a tissue from her little bag and you accept it gratefully.

You don't live too far from the precinct, and a ten minute drive in a taxi and you're there.

Amy doesn't leave you, and Dani arrives when you're in the shower.

You sit with them, enjoying tea in your living room, and after a long talk about your ordeal, and the endless reassurances from them that you're safe now, they decide to distract you with Studio Ghibli movies.

It sort of works, though your most recent ordeal reminds you of your past ones.

Somehow, you think that your past experience with the murderer, made this one more manageable, it's probably why you had a clear head from the moment the man pulled out the knife. However bad this was, it was nothing compared to being hunted in the woods at night.

A knock at your front door startles you, and you jump at the booming sound.

Dani reaches to pause the movie, and for a moment you're too stunned to move.

"Who is it?" You call, pulling the sheets away from your body and rising to a stand.

"It's Billy." He answers, voice muffled through the wood.

You suck in a breath, trying to ignore the shocked expressions on Amy and Dani's face, making your way to the door and taking a small breath before opening it up.

You don't get much of a word in before you're being pulled right into his arms.

You stand there, shocked beyond reason as his arms encircle you. Your body responds eagerly to his embrace, relaxing against him so easily that it would scare you if you could be anything other than shocked.

Your arms lift, wrapping around him to return his hold, wondering how on earth you ended up in this position.

It feels so right to hold him, to pull him even closer and feel him respond by tightening his embrace, until it feels like a hug between old friends.

His scent wraps around you, and you rise onto your toes, eager to catch more of the jasmine and oak that his body smells of.

How on earth does he make you feel so safe? So protected in a way you haven't felt in such a long time.

"Are you hurt?" He asks after a moment, large hand cupping the back of your neck as you pull away.

"I'm okay." You say simply, watching the way his eyes roam down your face and stop at the scratches on your neck.

He lets out a slow breath, fingers trailing over your neck, his thumb brushing the deep welts.

You gasp when his thumb swipes a little too close, a frown forming on his face.

"I lost my company laptop-"

"-That's alright," he soothes, "It's not the first time, and my consultant helped me put some vigorous security protocols into place."

You find yourself grinning at him, and he smiles back.

"If you need anything, anything at all, please call me."

You take a moment, looking into his eyes, trying to figure out how he could be so cold one moment and so surprisingly warm the next.

"Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He lets out a shaky breath, before you know it, he's placing a careful kiss to the top of your head and your heart is doing rapid palpitations at the sensation.

You say goodbye to him as you close the door, waiting a moment before snapping the lock shut.

You turn in shock, leaning against the door, eyes wide and breathing rapid.

"Ohmygod." You rush out, turning to look at Dani and Amy in a 'can you believe that just happened?' type of way.

"I thought you said he doesn't like you." Dani says with a tone of confusion in her voice.

"He doesn't." You answer, not fully sounding quite so sure.

Amy huffs.

"I don't know about you, but that man quite clearly and obviously wants you bad." She states.

Oh how you wish it were true.

You're barely able to sleep all night, despite the fact that you know both your friends are asleep in other rooms or your apartment. You're less lonely than usual, and arguably a little more safe, and yet still, you can't relax your body for long enough to sleep.

The only thing that really calms you, is the reminder of what it was like to be in his arms.

You roll onto your side, pulling a pillow as close to you as possble, wrapping your arms around it and imagining that it's him.

Your brain refuses to accept the placebo, too focused on what's missing, his scent, his hearbeat, the warmth of his body- you flop around angrily, deciding to watch videos on your phone instead of sleeping.

You don't notice it's morning until you spot the sunlight spilling through the gaps in your curtains.

You let out a long sigh, sitting up and moving to your living room.

Both women are already awake too. Amy takes one look at you and sighs.

"Not a wink, huh?"

"You know me so well." You reply with a teasing smile.

They both have to get to work, and you reassure them that you're actually not doing so bad, you'd been able to get a few days off of work yourself.

"Call us if you need anything," Dani says, kissing the top of your head as she leaves, "Or call that hot boss of yours."

"He doesn't like me like that!" You call out to them as they leave, and you hear their laughter through the door, no doubt disagreeing with your words out of earshot.

You sigh, sipping on your coffee with indignation.

You spend the day lazing around, looking up the application processes for getting new identification and replacing all the additional cards you had in your wallet.

You'd already called the bank and put in a request to freeze your cards, still holding out hope that you might be able to get your wallet back instead of having to go get new cards for everything.

You frown, raising your hand to your neck, feeling for the necklace you lost, hating that you felt like something was missing all throughout the day.

When you get a call from the precinct in the afternoon, telling you that your bag had been recovered, you'd been so happy to hear it.

You'd gotten dressed, grabbed your keys and your phone with the intention of grabbing a taxi on the street, but suddenly found difficulty in actually leaving your apartment.

What was going on with you?

The idea that leaving your place meant you were at risk of being attacked again sent so much fear down your spine that you shut your door and curled up on your couch in distress.

You were scared.

Simply put, the very thought of being out in the open, so vulnerable, filled you with trepidation.

Someone could attack you again, maybe even finish the job this time. The photo of you leaving Amy's apartment comes to mind.

You didn't know if someone was still following you. What if they were? What if they were waiting for you right outside?

How many close calls could you have before you ran out of luck?

The memory of his voice comes back to you.

"Promise me." He'd said.

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone.

A/N: Don't hate me

#werepanther!billy russo #monster!billyrusso #monster!billy russo #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut

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orphic-musings · 1 year ago

Text

The pain we wrought from words unspoken…

Characters: Karlach x gn! reader, Wyll x gn! reader, Halsin x gn! reader, Aylin x Isobel, Bex x Danis

Genre: Angst, fluff (but not for you)

Warnings: hurt no comfort, misunderstandings, spoilers for the end of act 2, implied reference to death (character)

Summary: After an arduous battle everyone is celebrating and taking a much needed reprieve. Except you, whose heart has a hole that is home to loneliness and grief. Is there no one to comfort you?

Notes: Omg i am back and with a BALDUR’S GATE FIC!?!!??! yes i have been taken by this game too and it has me in a chokehold and forced me to write for it. im sorry it had to be angst it makes me so sad maybe i will write comfort pt. 2 if people want it! pls enjoy :-) (sobbing) lemme know if i missed any warnings also not proofread aha

Karlach:

Aylin had her arm around Isobel the whole night. You recall earlier how she had lifted Isobel into the air and spun her around, nothing but mirth and pure love in her eyes. The action had brought a genuine smile to your face. To see something so joyful and pure after so much torment and toil was a gift, an uplifting you didn’t know you needed. But it came with a bittersweet pang. Everyone was busy chatting away at camp, spirits were high as everyone had a much needed moment of reprise after the defeat of Ketheric. Though you still wore a smile, your heart faltered.

“Holding up, Soldier?” A warm and familiar voice appeared behind you, and you turned to be met with an equally warm smile. You nodded, returning the smile, a genuine one.

“I’m so glad to see everyone reunited and safe, it seemed like such an impossible reality before, but now….” You turned back to the Selûnite couple in a loving embrace as your sentence trailed off. Karlach’s eyes followed, but then she looked at you. Your eyes were faraway, and your smile seemed almost sad.

“Alright there?” She asked, concern in her voice. Ever conscious of the feelings of others, she could pick up on any hint of bitterness or longing in others. She knew it all too well.

“It’s just, seeing all this love… I should be so happy, I am! But it still hurts. It must be nice to mean that much to someone.” You didn’t face her as you spoke. Despite your calm voice and your content, peaceful face, she sensed a deep hurt behind your words. Her mouth opened, and her hand instinctively reached out to grab your shoulder, but she stopped.

You mean so much to me, I cherish every moment we spend together. I could forget myself in your smile, forget the world in your eyes. Just one look at your face can quell all my rage. I would spend every hour I could with you, I would not hesitate to defend you and protect you. I want to be with you. Is what she wants to say. But instead she turned away with a solemn silence of her own.

You didn’t react to her silence, times are hard, and love seemed like a luxury. You stood like a statue as she slipped away, mourning internally her prescence, as she ripped herself from your side unwillingly.

Fighting Zariel’s war was easier than fighting her feelings in that moment. But any moment could be her very last. For someone who would rather live and die in the present, fully and without regrets, she feels a hypocrite. But imagining the hope of being with you, the joy you might have from knowing how much she needs you and cherishes you, was too much to bear. She couldn’t stand the thought of taking that all away from you. It’s a lesser evil to keep it from you, to keep it from herself, in the first place, than to have fate cruelly crush it all. At least that’s what she told herself as she faced the wall of her tent, away from your own dejected form, with hot tears in her eyes.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Wyll:

It seemed a miracle that you managed to save all the tieflings, and the gnomes on top of that. And even more so to defeat Ketheric Thorm, and at last promise safety and rest to all in the shadowlands. But any praise or recognition went over your head as you reeled in the aftermath. It felt surreal, and almost like it happened too quick, and you were still having trouble processing it. Even as you walked around Last Light Inn to rejuvinate your mind.

“You’re alright! My gods you’re alright!” You heard a voice call, and as you rounded the corner you saw two Tieflings in a tight embrace. You recognized Danis as one of the prisoners you had rescued, and pride swelled in you momentarily. As you watched the reunion in tender delight, you failed to notice a presence join you.

“A joyous sight. It makes me feel better about all the toil thus far.” Wyll’s voice spoke beside you, smooth and clear. It made you smile, even as you felt the sweet atmosphere waver, threatening to leave behind a cold emptiness.

“A shame it seems so scarce these days.” You said, watching the couple wander off into the warm inn. His face fell as he noticed the melancholy in your gaze.

“Indeed. I only hope those who have love, and hope, hold onto it dearly.” You merely stared off into the distance, unmoving and unresponding. It wrenched his heart, but he remained with you. It somehow felt like the least, and the most, that he could do. He wished you would turn to him, so he coukd see the light reflected in your eyes. But you couldn’t, for the price of love and hope was one too high for you to pay, in your mind. And despite your proximity, there was a perceptible distance between you.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Halsin:

The camp was brimming with relief, chatter sounding from every corner as parties discuss the aftermatch of the fight at Moonrise towers. Many people had joined you after the fight, since it had really only begun, and your companions had proven themselves capable of leading the cause. But you were mostly grateful for the presence of those who had helped you make it that far, namely the archdruid of Emerald Grove. Halsin was relieved, and content as well. He had fulfilled his century long quest, and the lands were now safe. And so were you.

“What now? You’ve got what you wanted, after all.” You asked, unsure if he would stay now that his task is finished.

“I have. But perhaps there is more that I want.” He replied, a smile on his face. You felt the warmth of his words, and you almost let it invade your senses, but you shook it off. Curiosity threatened to get the better of you, even if you werenmt sure you wanted to know the answer. But before you could stop it the words had left your mouth.

“What is it that you want?” He paused to glance at you, the smile never having left his face.

“Not what,” he began, his gaze shifting past you, “but who.” He let out a sigh after that, like it was good to get it off his chest. But your heart fell. You had known you shouldn’t have asked, but you needed to. Just in case of that small possibility.

“Ah.” Is all you managed in reply. After a beat of silence you turned and left abruptly, the intense beat of your heart felt like it was punching your ribs. Halsin’s smile faded as he watched you walk away. Had he said something wrong? No, he realized, he had merely misread the situation. You didn’t feel the same way, you couldn’t have. He felt silly in that moment, and laughed it off as he had done with the other rejections in his life (though they were few). But he could not shrug off the pain that wrenched his heart.

The next day the camp felt uncertain again. Comforting, yes, but uncertain. The party would be on the road again, and many things could change until they next made camp again. But the heaviest thing hanging in the air was your silence, your distance. It was to be expected, he reasoned, after the awkward encounter, but he hoped it didn’t mean you couldn’t still be friends. The very thought caused his throat to tighten.

But you couldn’t even bear to look at him. Of course such an experienced, handsome and capable man such as him wouldn’t have a soft spot for you. Thinking about it now made you ill. You couldn’t be near him, because all you thought of in his presence was how lucky someone else was to have him. And as you journeyed down the road to Baldur’s Gate, your distance grew. So much that it caused an uncomfortable wedge in the group, a palpable bitterness that soured the air.

Every night sorrow would muster in the two tents on far sides of the camp. Frustration, tears and regret proliferated there in those moments, planting seeds of woe to be reaped when the dawn broke. And the cure for sickness was only right where they dare not look.

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spacecasette · 2 months ago

Text

Bolt the Horse — c h a p t e r o n e

@madsmilfelsen for u my angel ♡

In the summer of 2011, she wore her hair in two braids down her back, and spent a not insignificant amount of time on barstools. The air was humid as a clenched fist and humming, so the most she could do to alleviate it was with a Miller High Life in hand, shorts admittedly a touch too short for lookin', and nothing better than trouble to get done. It was in this way she found herself in a bar without a ride home in the pouring September rain.

She was not, in her 25th year, looking for any kind of trouble she could not feasibly get into on her own. She felt as if she could do enough of the fucking up by herself, thank you kindly, and did not take well to anyone who didn't seem like they could handle that.

Rust Cohle, as it turns out, could kind of handle it. At least, she notices, he can handle most things– the exceptions being exceptional humidity and obvious displays of misplaced hubris. They watch each other often; her slyly from atop her barstool, and him openly from wherever he stood behind the bar. It seemed like a lot of the time he could hardly stomach her sitting close to him at all, even when they were across the room. Once, when she was admittedly a little too drunk for a girl who was meant to be in charge of herself, she dropped a shot glass and nearly fell from her perch trying to retrieve the shattered pieces. She looked up to find his stare already fixed on her, whites showing in his eyes like a frightened dog. He was by her side in an instant, batting her hands away and calling her a "messy little thing", which she would have found insulting, if it weren't a little too accurate. But then he checked her palms for cuts and held his hand between the bar and her head when she got up, so she couldn't be too sure he didn't just feel bad for her. She would take it though, either way it was offered. She would never tell him to his face, but she was getting lonely out at her grandparents' house with only the coyotes for company. She liked too much being around to ever tell him to quit barking at her or rolling his eyes when she asked for a pen to do her crosswords with.

It's a Saturday night the first time she loses her grip. Condensed down to one or fifteen seconds, when she laughs loud at something another regular has said. At the sound of air pressed forcefully through Rust's nose in a poor imitation of a laugh, she looks up at him. Her glassy, liquor-slicked eyes, pupils big as the fuckin' moon, begging and begging with no end in sight. Her gaze darting over his face like she can't quite decide where best to fix it– and goddammit if that doesn't just tear him all up inside.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, girl?" He asks, and another of those half-not-laughs falls out.

"Dunno, Rust, wanna find out over dinner sometime?" she fires it back so quick it leaves him a little stunned, a fish whacked out of water. In lieu of a reply, he slides her beer away from her and sets a glass of water down in its place, though she pouts prolifically when he does.

"Prob'ly better if you get on home, little doggy, " he says, soft and condescending even with a corner of his mouth turned up the way it is.

"'M not little anymore, Rust, fuck's sake," she mumbles, taciturn and petulant even this deep in her drink.

"Go get some air, girl, I'll be out quick to drive you home," he tells her, casual like he didn't already know she'd been hoping and wishing for it all night, "and don't go pitching a fit about it. 'S fuckin' pourin' out there and you'd drown yourself in a thimble of rain if I don't."

The screen door in front slams quickly, and will catch you in the back of the head if you're not quick about getting in before it. Dani doesn't tell him this because she is very busy with falling over the threshold in a fit of giggles, bride to her own amusement at Rust having to shuffle her in like someone's feeble old grandma. He is rather short of patience at this hour, and she can feel herself dancing over top his last nerve, but she finds it honestly pretty funny so she makes a lot of stupid faces and asks twice if he'll tuck her in. She's not been sleeping in a bed in the house because they all make her feel a little too sad lately, so she makes a bee line for the couch in the center of the front room, like a rock face she's dead set to crashing on. Rust lets her fall into it– helps her, even, letting loose his grip on her arms to let her splay onto the cushions and roll her ruddy cheek down deep in the throw pillow. Her hair stuck to her face and her breathing slightly shallow, his fingers itch with the desire to check her pulse, to fret over her. Instead he keeps his hands to himself and watches, impassive, as she makes a valiant attempt at rucking her shorts down over her knees to kick them off, making no effort to help. His watching feels like something else, she thinks sluggishly, like a hot lick of fever climbing down her spine and sticking there as a burr would. When she notices him staring, she offers up her dopiest, softest smile, and slurs

"Rust. If you're gonna stand there all night, I won't stop you but first could you go grab me some sleep shorts out of the chester draws? First door on the left at the top of the stairs," she swallows, thick as honeyed night, "please."

The wiry automaton of his body clicks into action: mouth softly closing, limbs lurching into their movement, all economy and surprise.

He returns with her gray shorts, ratty things with the elastic long gone to dust, and sets them down on the coffee table. He turns around, all precious and respectful now that they're alone, and lets her put them on.

When he hears her settle and finally turns around, it's to find her already asleep, her cheeks flushed and limbs spread across the sofa like a child exhausted from the heat.

Sunday morning, she awoke neatly tucked under an afghan with a glass jar of water and two ibuprofen on the coffee table in front of her. Looking at the clock above the door, cogs clicking in the dim apartment of her skull, she realized with quite a start that if she wasn't dressed and ready in exactly 7 minutes, she was going to be rather unfashionably late for Sunday service.

Imagining the looks of misplaced pity from the faces of grandmothers and their daughters and their daughters' daughters was enough to light a decent fire under her ass. She dressed quickly, brushed her sticky teeth to rid them of the scent of stale beer and Black Velvet and was out the door toward the truck with 30 seconds to spare. Her hair, regrettably, was a mouse nest when she checked it in the rearview.

On the drive in, she remembered vaguely that Rust had brought her home late last night but had not, thankfully, stuck around quite long enough for her to embarrass herself any further than she had expected to. She had come to know herself when drinking anything harder than a Shirley temple to be rather childish, with an attitude and a neediness about her to rival some mothers' babies. She could be a sore loser when Robert would walk her like a dog in Rummy, and would play too many Mel Carter songs in a row on the jukebox. This last behavior never failed to put a very unreadable look on Rust's face, like she was leading herself to the gallows & he knew it. There was nothing to be done about her nature now, she supposed, except to apologize to whomever had to suffer it. Used to be her grandparents would correct her, sometimes sternly, but she could always weasel her way out of trouble if she put on the right pair of puppy eyes– now there was no one to set her straight over their knee and make her see sense.

Service was a fine, if a little lengthy, affair with a lot of the old biddies fanning themselves in the heat and cooing over her bruised up knees. She explained (falsely) that she had been moving some of Papa's things back in from the shed, and, arms full, had tripped up the porch steps. Feeling a little poorly about lying in church, she reasoned that telling them she'd come home drunk and tripped over her own threshold would have been inappropriate pew chatter, so it was okay for her to bend the truth into a sweeter shape once in a while.

Leaving church, she decided to stop by Hank's for groceries– mostly because she wanted something to make her feel productive, though she knew she was bound to spend her afternoon (and likely evening) walking around in the creek and reading on the porch. She was clear out of bread, and running dangerously low on the honey cereal she'd taken a liking to. Eggs, she knew, she could trade a neighbor for, so she treated herself to an orange dreamsicle in their place. When she was younger, and Mammy would take her here, she never said no to books or puzzles, but could always deny her granddaughter candy or toys. Now, it seemed, Dani had more books than she could reasonably read in years, and was of the mind that denying herself pleasure of this kind was a punishment she had not earned.

In the breakfast aisle, a feeling not dissimilar to a flight response catches her by the tail of her hair and will not let her go. She moseys slow like, taking her time to draw him out, entertaining herself with all the little barbs she might stick him with. Things like "you followin' me, mister?" or "funny meetin' you here, I thought you lived off coffee, cigarettes, and switch grass." But she didn't really have anything too smart to say when he finally sidled up next to her while she was fretting over cereal.

Her eyes darted to his hands, slung under the weight of the blue basket in his grip– sinewy, calloused– and then up to his shirt collar, chin, face, then eyes. She had to take it in little leaps else she'd get shy and find a way to leave before she'd said her piece.

"'M sorry you had to see me home last night. Didn't mean to get ornery, so. It won't happen again." It's soft, coming out her mouth, like they were the only people in the room.

"'S alright, just seems like someone oughta look after you once in a while," he says, just as quiet, as if talking to himself. The hum of the lights gets a little too loud and she can't quite think all the way, so her words come out rushed,

"How come you don't go to church?"

"I don't really fuss about with god." This surprises her, for some reason. She felt she knew his way, a little, how he looked at everything through the lens of dutiful futility. It stands to reason he wouldn't really bother with something so nebulous and unfixed, but for all she knows he's a thing flung straight down from outer space so she doesn't follow the thought too far.

"Well, me neither, except I like the singing, and Mammy always made me go. Just seems like the thing to do, I guess. Don't you got a thing you do? Just 'cause you feel like you're supposed to?"

"Unfortunately, sweetheart, everything I do is 'cause I'm supposed to."

Then they don't talk, for what feels like a whole winter but is really only a minute. She finds her prize on the shelf and quickly puts it in her basket, looking at her shoes until she finds the nerve to speak again,

"I'm trying to be your friend, Rust. Are you gonna let me, or are you gonna keep up this whole 'mysterious old man with a vendetta against fun' thing?"

He chuckles at that, but doesn't exactly answer.

"Look, I'm gonna be gone a while. Not long, should be back towards the middle of the week, but I want you to stay home. I mean that. Don't come by the bar, don't go anywhere I wouldn't know to find you, okay? You stay outta trouble and we'll talk about being friends when I get back."

She rolls her eyes at the implication that she couldn't handle life and its spinning without him herding her about.

"Fine. But when you get back, you owe me a beer and a game of rummy. And you can't pawn me off on Bob, either, I'm starting to think it's personal."

"Deal." They shake hands, and he's gone. When she finally quits looking down at her hand where he held it, she grabs her milk and butter, pays the kid at the till, and heads home.

Dani knows, for the most part, how to behave. She spent so long having so little reason to lash out that the muscle memory of trouble making had practically atrophied by the time she turned 19. She spends her first day at home reorganizing the bookshelves in the living room by genre, which eats up a good 3 hours after breakfast and fills her with a terribly pleased feeling to boot. By then, she's ready for a simple lunch of a ham and cheese sandwich with an entire sleeve of tollhouse crackers, which she eats on the porch with a can of pepsi beside her. The cicadas do their screeching song all day, and when she wanders out into the yard, she finds one of their molts clung to the trunk of a live oak. Papa's voice floats into her head, and she is thrown face-first into a memory of them gathered in the kitchen one early morning, heads bowed in little prayer to examine the bugs and moths he'd pinned to a paper towel on the counter. He'd told her about the dog day cicadas, how they sleep for 7 years and come alive to feed, breed, scream, and die. He'd pointed out the luna moth, its wings frayed and flaked where he'd handled it with a little carelessness. It had looked so graceful and serene, laying with its wings fanned and pinned apart with mammy's pearl-headed sewing pins. She remembers the sadness she'd felt when he had told her they lacked mouths, and existed only by the grace of whatever nutrients they'd ingested as caterpillars. She felt a bit like that now, catapulted into life without them in the span of a year, and with no way to cherish them except in reverse. Reduced to a thing that wanted, with no way of asking.

Dani spent the rest of the first day ambling through the trees looking for bugs and leaves and interesting bits she might save to keep the memory of summer alive when the rain came and the sun stayed away longer. At night, she ate buttered noodles and pinned her findings in a shadowbox she'd gutted, hunched over the kitchen table tweezing antennae and legs into place. When she felt herself growing sleepy, she walked the few paces to the sofa, and fell onto it with all the grace of a foal in its first hours. She dreamt that night that she'd forgotten her name, and was standing in the middle of her empty high school.

The second day passed much differently– the hours stretched their long fingers out toward the sun and took their dandy time to pass. She was restless, and it was hot, and she felt a searching inside her that could not be sated by any of the near dozen books she tried out. By 1pm she was packing a small lunch (ham and cheese again, with the last sleeve of crackers) and walking back through the trees behind the house to the creek. Toeing off her shoes and slipping off her dress, she slipped down into that cool, murky wet. She floated on her back in the middle a while, watching the canopy shiver apart to let the sunlight through in lacelike patterns on the surface of the water. Eventually, she uprighted herself and walked along the bank looking for a salamander or a frog, something alive she might find companionship with. It ended up being fruitless, which ratcheted up that irritable itch and culminated in a single misstep over an algae-slicked stone and sent her straight down backward onto her ass. Her eyes welling with frustrated tears, she laid there stunned with her tailbone throbbing something fierce for a good ten minutes. When her self pity ran dry and she remembered she was the only one around who could kiss it better, she gathered up the lunch she'd neglected to eat and went straight back to the house for a hot shower, or perhaps a nap on the sofa.

She woke around 6pm with all her bones feeling fused together at the joints, and a small puddle of drool on the throw pillow beneath her cheek. It was with a sense of delirious urgency that she climbed from her makeshift bed and upstairs to the bathroom, and upon flicking the light, noticed her hair had dried down in such a horrendous tangle she sat down on the floor and started to cry. She cried because she missed her Mammy and her Papa, because her body hurt, and because she was struck with the painfully sudden and obvious realization that she really was on her own now. She cried because she felt stupid, and small, and rather lonely here in this house she loved but felt guilty being in for some reason.

Eventually, the tide of her sobbing had slowed and she crawled over to the drawer to fish out her hairbrush, and set about making sense of the nest that had settled on her head. When it was done, and with great effort at that, she turned on the shower as boiling hot as it would go, and sat herself down to spend the better part of half an hour feeling put out and morose before she even picked up the shampoo. It was a quick affair after that, as she didn't really love having pruny fingers.

The boredom reaches a fever pitch around 10:30, untempered by two failed attempts at knitting and one batch of lemon muffins. Everything Dani has done in the last fourteen hours to restore a sense of normalcy has come spitting furiously back into her face, and she really truly feels like something in her is fixing to hatch. It's beginning to feel like an undoing, and she's uncomfortable, so she laces up her stupid shoes and walks the stupid half-mile to Doumain's. She curses Rust the whole way, scrunches up her nose and spits at his voice in her head telling her to stay put, like a dog that don't know any better than to leap out the door. She feels hot and itchy again, and she made up promises– one she did try hard to keep, but again her nature won out– and he said he'd be back by mid week. It's coming on 11 on a Tuesday, so she reckons she's close enough to compliance for fulfilling her end of a crummy deal. And anyway, she's fighting mad for nothing and wants a beer and a furious game of cards with Bob to soften up all the little hard upset parts of her.

When she arrives, it's unnaturally rowdy for a weeknight. The pool tables are full, and there isn't a spot for her at the bar until she catches Bob's eye and he makes another regular– Mason, her useless brain supplies– move out of the way to let her claim her usual spot. No crosswords tonight, she sets a deck of cards and a wad of folded ones on the bar-top between them. The other bartender is here tonight in Rust's place– she's only ever seen him once, and he wasn't all that nice, but neither is Rust, so her demeanor doesn't have to change all that much after all. She orders a tallboy of Lonestar and a shot of Black Velvet because no one will stop her, and she can't help herself, especially now. Bob gives her a sidelong look she's seen before, one that says she's skating on thin fuckin' ice, but she knocks back her shot like it owes her rent without meeting his eye. Her evening irons back out and starts to feel normal, if a little lackluster since Rust isn't around for her to pester and push. She really did think she might get away with coming here despite her instructions until one of those stupid dishwater-blond fucks– Amos or Andrew, the one with too-green eyes– comes over and starts inching in on her, thinking she won't notice. She tried out doing the right thing, angling her body away from him hoping he'd get the message and go find his luck somewhere else. He doesn't. Instead, he uses a knee to turn the seat of her seat of her barstool around to face him and says,

"What're you doin' over here all by your lonesome, baby? Come play with us, I'll buy you a fruity little drink if you want, somethin' to wet that," he looks down at her mouth, leans close and lecherous and rancid, "whistle."

"No, thank you. Bob and I are gonna play some cards, you're gonna go circle jerk with your friends, and we'll steer nice and clear of each other." Her brows and fingers knit together, holding herself in by the edges because she's honestly a little afraid she might bite him or scream or throw something. His answering smile comes, satisfied and too close for comfort that it makes something in her burn scalding and bright.

"Oh, come on, don't be such a sourpuss. Go a round with us and we'll see where the night takes us, hmm?"

Her fist connects with his left orbital socket before she even decides it should. His whole body ripples away at the impact– the desired effect– and while on his back foot she watches his eyes widen with the realization. Then he's on her, screaming and aiming for her neck. Dani feels, in this moment, a far off panic. Fights never really found her too easily, since she had a habit of keeping to herself (except, obviously, on this occasion). It's all she can do to flail about with closed fists until something lands or someone steps in to free her. And intervene, someone does: Mason, who despite having his seat stolen not twenty minutes ago comes to her rescue by pulling the kid off her by his collar like a rowdy kitten. She lies there, staring at the water stains on the ceiling, until Mason's face floats into her periphery and she's pulled to sitting. Her face feels sticky and hot all over, and her lashes are clumped together making it hard to blink up at the few faces looking down at her. She finds Bob's eyes, and the first words out of her mouth are,

"Please don't tell Rust."

He laughs, shakes his head, and offers her a hand which she takes to stand on her wobbly legs. Assuming she's being shown the door, she heads that direction only to be stopped by a hand on the crook of her elbow. She turns to face Bob, and his face is caught between a look of wonder and pity. He nods toward the back door, and she follows, head turned down towards her shoes. The soundtrack to Tuesday night clicks back to life and everyone goes back to their business as they exit the building. He fumbles with the spigot on the wall, and his hankie is removed, wetted, then used to roughly dab the drying blood off her lips and nose. Even in the bare moonlight, she sees it come away dark. She's heard Bob speak on so few occasions, she nearly misses it when he mumbles,

"Don't you go pickin' fights you don't know goddamn well how to win, missy. You're lucky Rust ain't here, he'd have probably hauled off and killed that kid." Her face burns at that, and not from the cut.

"I-I'm sorry, Bob, really. I just-he was being gross and it kinda happened before I knew any different what my hands were up to. Won't happen again, you know I'm not that type of girl."

He doesn't reply, but the "maybe you oughta think about that first next time" hangs in the air, limp and useless now.

He lets her into an apartment attached to the bar near the back door, which she sort of knew about but assumed was where he lived. There was hardly anything in it– no dishes on the sink or mess on the counters– until they got to the bedroom. The only evidence she could see that would lead her to believe it was occupied was a full-sized mattress on the floor, covered in a white flat sheet, and a pile of Louisiana history text books in the corner beneath the window.

"Sleep it off in here for tonight. There's a quilt in the hall closet if you need it, and the washroom's just next door."

He's gone out the door before she can thank him. She looks at the bed, and the moonlight coming through the blinds onto it. She could sleep, she thinks. She should. Grabbing the quilt from the hall closet– hard to miss, it was the only thing in there– she wraps it around herself, toes off her shoes, and lays down on the bed. Curled on her side, stray tears dripping across the still-bloody bridge of her nose onto the sheet, she falls asleep.

Rust gets home at 3:27AM, and Bob is waiting up for him, smoking a cigarette at the bar. It's not exactly uncommon, but he's usually back a little closer to sunrise and the time Bob usually gets up for the day, so he cocks his head to a 45° and asks,

"What're you doin up so late?"

"Just don't say I never told you nothin'."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Robert. Goodnight."

"Suit yourself," he mutters, "shitheel."

Rust rolls his eyes but goes to unlock the door to his apartment without further comment. His keys clatter on the breakfast nook, and when he pads into the bedroom he finds her there, face crusted up with snot and dried blood. He finds her there, asleep on his mattress on the floor with her hands tucked up under her chin like a pair of swans. Close together, too, as if they were in quiet conversation about the day they'd had. He sighs, deeply, and heads back out to the sofa.

#true detective #rust cohle #true detective s1 #rust cohle/original female character #space writes #Bolt the Horse #be NICE to me in your comments/reblogs please #this is terrifying #but i wanted to write it so here we are #space abuses the em dash #if u saw me formatting shit wrong #no u didn't

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 months ago

Text

Outfoxed: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: Derek has had enough and decides now is the time to work bringing you home. The team is working on two cases and stretching their agents thin but they'll do anything to bring you back into Spencer's arms.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I know I'm going to piss some people off with the way I wrote the trial and the gathering of evidence but remember, this is fiction and it's my story. I'm making it easy and convenient. I know this isn't how trials work.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

Rossi hangs up and focuses his attention on Anne who is at the latest crime scene with him. A new family is murdered with the father out overseas.

"The girl was suffocated not shot, right?"

"Yeah," she sighs. "Her name is Dani. She was fourteen."

"What about the father?"

"Afghanistan. Does this rule out remorse?"

"Yes, it does."

"What is it now?"

"The escalation between kills indicates a major psychological break. The timeframe between kills has gone from a year to just three days. For the unsub, something has dramatically changed. Some kind of major external stressor forced this unsub into feeling the need to kill again without any remorse. Mirror neurons and stressors relating to the unsub's past may have triggered this, the strongest of which is smell." There is the sound of a plane flying overhead, and both of them look up to see a plane fly by. "That sound. Were there any military maneuvers going on at Langley at that time?"

"The annual air show but nothing as big as this."

Rossi calls Hotch to let him know that the sound of airplanes flying might be a trigger for the unsub, and Hotch steps out of the room to take the call. Emily and Karl are now alone which is what he wants.

"He's killed again, hasn't he? Luckily for me. Now we're alone," Karl grins.

"You stated that the families don't know the killer. Why?" Karl doesn't answer. "Yours was one of the first cases I studied."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm. I've been fascinated ever since."

"With what?"

"You," she chuckles.

"Now you want to know what I did to the children, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I can show you. I can show you exactly what I did to them."

"Tell me."

"Children are so precious. So clean, but they need guidance. Especially the girls. Girls have much more to lose than boys. It's a fact the female body can handle pain much better."

"What did you do to them?"

"I showed them what men... their fathers and brothers... are capable of."

"What is that?"

"You sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

Hotch is watching Emily interact with Karl from the outside while on the phone with Rossi. He won't let Emily out of his sight, not with someone like Karl in there with her.

"Dave, if the Langley air show is the stressor, then Karl's admirer doesn't fit the profile."

"A psychopath suffering a major psychological break doesn't brag about it, Hotch."

"There was nothing you could have done that would have saved that family today."

"That's if I'm right about the profile," Rossi scoffs.

"I think you are. Karl's admirer doesn't have anything to do with these killings."

"Either way, we need to know who is. Aaron, I want you to stay with him and find out so we can stop this son of a bitch."

"I plan to."

Hotch hangs up and pays attention back to Emily and Karl.

"Once I killed the children, it always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable."

"Which was what?"

"Dying."

Penelope is working overtime trying to prove your innocence and making sure the unsub of the current case doesn't strike again. She has been looking into each of the families to see what the connection between them is, and so far, she doesn't have a lot. She's going through the Williams' emails, phone calls, landline phone calls, family photos, their entire life, all of it. There is so much that she hasn't gotten through the Downey family.

There are no fingerprints on any of the crime scenes no matter how much she wishes there were. She already tried widening the search but ViCAP combines every database in the country. There's no going wider than that. The airshow is military. All three fathers are soldiers fighting a war on foreign soil so none of the graves the unsub made are a sign of remorse.

What they represent are mass graves which would indicate the unsub experienced early pubescent three-dimensional mirror neurons reflecting events similar to the one he's creating. The unsub might have been born into conflict. The question is where. When was the last time the FBI saw anything like mass graves in the US?

ViCAP is national, not international so Penelope tries looking past this country's borders into Interpol. She can start looking there, but it's pretty obvious the unsub has done this before out of the country. The question is where and why.

Hotch walks back into the room with Emily and Karl, and the man leans back in his seat when he sees Hotch.

"Karl, I never thought that you'd be this honest."

"It takes a good woman to make an honest man. Anyway, let's face it, she's prettier than you."

"Do you know why you killed those families?" Emily asks.

"I've already told you why."

"No, you told her how, not why. The reason being that in this case, the why is very different than they were for you. As you so eloquently have been pointing out to Agent Prentiss, all of your motivations were about sex."

"Motivations you learned from your father," Emily says.

"You really have done your research on me, Emily. I'm flattered."

"You're also filled with feelings of extreme self-hatred."

"It must be distracting working with someone so beautiful," Karl smirks and looks at Hotch.

"You forced those men to watch their children die, and here's why, Karl. Here's why you are what you are."

"What I would do to you," Karl threatens.

"By killing the fathers last, you were killing your own father, and ultimately yourself, over and over again."

Hotch gathers the files since he's decided he's done here.

"This isn't over, Agent Hotchner. At least not for you."

"Wait, Hotch," Emily says, ignoring Karl, "it's all about the fathers. In this case, it's all about the girls. They die last. They're laid out last. None of them are shot. None of them show any signs of sexual motive. What if we applied that logic to these killings?"

"That's something we haven't considered."

"Why would we? It's so rare."

"What is?" Karl asks.

"The killer is a woman."

"A woman?" Karl gasps.

"I'll let Morgan and Rossi know," Emily says and leaves.

"Karl, just now you said that this wasn't over for me. What did you mean by that?" Hotch asks.

"He's just getting warmed up," Karl chuckles. "You don't see it... but you will."

Hotch leaves the room and joins Emily who just got off the phone with Rossi.

"Prentiss thinks the unsub might be a woman," Rossi says to Anne and JJ. "That's why we couldn't find a sexual motive. Wherever she's from, her father's a military man."

"Rossi, I've got a hit on Interpol," Penelope's voice comes through the speaker. "Wait, two hits. No, three. Three crime scenes in three different cities. The first was in Zagreb in 1998. A woman and her eight-month-old baby are both killed. Two years later, the same prints show up in Modena, Italy. In London in 2007, a young couple was both shot."

"You were right. She has killed before," Anne says.

"Zagreb is the capital city of Croatia," Rossi says.

"Is that significant?"

"Between 1991 and 1995, they fought a bitter battle for independence. Serbian forces tried to ethnically cleanse over forty thousand Bosnian Muslims. At some point in the last two years, she moved to America."

"She's on the run," JJ says, "and ran right into a city filled with military families."

"The only mass graves reminiscent of the ones the unsubs created were found all over Bosnia after the war, but none of them rival that of Srebrenica. Dutch UN forces created a safe haven for refugees. In 1995, Bosnian Serb forces surrounded the town."

"A psychopath born in the middle of that conflict is not a good mix," Anne sighs.

"She's exacting her life experiences onto the victims."

"Do you think this woman was there?"

"Think about it. Langley's filling up with civilians and military vehicles just like Srebrenica."

"Can you determine her age?"

"Based on victimology, each of these girls is no older than fifteen. The Balkan war lasted between '93 and '95, so if the girls represent the unsub, she's somewhere in her late twenties."

"How did Srebrenica end?"

"It was a massacre."

It's going to be hard for Rossi to do this by himself with Anne, but he knows the rest of the team is doing their part to bring everyone home. Spencer would have remembered if someone strange had come by his apartment in the weeks before the bodies were discovered. He would have remembered seeing someone that doesn't fit in. He doesn't talk to his neighbors a lot since he's socially awkward and shy but he knows he has to do this if he's going to get you home.

There won't be anything inside your apartment that will help him so he focuses on the ones near his. The apartment in the very far corner has a small video camera posted above her door and hope blooms in Spencer's chest. How did he not notice this before? Maybe it's because he was so sad that you weren't with him. Regardless, he knows about it now.

He walks over to his neighbor and knocks, and a sweet old lady opens it.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi. My name is Spencer Reid. I live in Apartment 1122 down the hall. I don't even know how to say this but my girlfriend was arrested for doing something she didn't do. I work in the FBI and have been trying to prove her innocence for two months, almost three. I see you have a camera and was wondering if I could take a look at the footage. Do you have footage from three or four months ago?"

"Yes, I make sure to save all the footage since I got it. You never know when you're going to need it," she sniffles and shoves her big glasses up her nose.

"Yes. I appreciate--"

"I never said I'd release the footage to you, dear."

Spencer's shoulder sag in defeat and looks at his feet.

"I know you don't know me or my girlfriend. I have a bad habit of keeping to myself. I am so in love with her that it hurts not to have her by my side at night. The bed is lonely without her, and I hate sleeping alone. She is in jail for something she didn't do, and she is suffering over there. I know you don't owe me anything, but it would help me get her back if I could watch the tapes. Please?"

When Spencer looks at the woman, she has hints of tears in her eyes. She knows very well what's it like to sleep in a bed that is supposed to have someone else in it.

"Alright," she nods.

She lets him inside her house and pets one of her cats as she passes by her. Spencer gains control over the controls and goes back a month or so before the bodies are discovered. He doesn't get a lot of action except for people coming and going with groceries and mail until he notices someone leave his apartment... and it's not you or him.

The camera doesn't reach the full scope of his door so he can't see the intruder's face. However, he does see gloves on his hands and your hairbrush in one of them and a red shiny heel and a worn-down hammer in the other. This doesn't prove you didn't kill the men but it does prove that these items were stolen from your place to be used on someone else. This man took items that he then later used to kill people with.

"Do you mind downloading the footage for me?"

"Sure," the older lady says.

Spencer does it for her and gains access to the bit of information that will help your case. He thanks the woman and leaves while dialing Derek.

"Hey, I got footage of someone stealing the murder weapons and Y/N's hairbrush from our apartment. It wasn't high enough to show his face, but I got it."

"We couldn't prove two of the seven murders but I think we have enough to persuade a judge that she didn't do this. Come back." Derek hangs up on Spencer after saying goodbye and calls Penelope. "Hey, baby girl, where and when is Y/N's hearing taking place?"

"Tomorrow at Arlington General District Court at eight in the morning."

"Contact her lawyer. He'll want to see the evidence."

"Okay."

"Penelope?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"You got it, sugar," she grins.

He texts Hotch, Emily, Rossi, and JJ on the news, and Rossi smiles when he receives the message. He and JJ are just about to give the profile so he can celebrate later.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

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of-apollo · 10 months ago

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Dani Rojas x Sick!Reader Headcanons…

Summary: As implied, beloved Dani Rojas caring for a reader who is sick with a cold.

Warnings: Again, as implied, sick reader. Runny nose, watery eyes, the likes. Alcohol mention as well.

Our angel shining star…

It’s no secret that Dani cares deeply about the people he loves, so the minute he hears even a bit of a sniffle from you, he is losing his mind.

He goes about his usual morning routine more frantically than usual, peppering kisses to your face despite your protests.

“I don’t want you to get sick, Dani!” is unwaveringly followed by, “I can’t leave you without morning kisses, mi amor!”

Dani is practically tripping over himself to get out of the house and to the pharmacy to get you medication, tissues and the likes.

He comes back with way more than anyone could ever need for a common cold, tipping the bag out with a proud grin as you watch.

Even in your feverish state, you’d be lying if you said that didn’t amuse you a little bit.

I imagine Dani would be all over you unless you’re asleep.

Like, if you’re sick, he’s calling sick for both of you. Neither of you are leaving that house for anything but medicine until you’re well.

He’s making you any food or drinks you want. You jokingly ask for a Long Island Iced Tea at one point, and he still makes it.

He runs you a lovely bath as well to help unclog your sinuses. He stays by your side the entire time if you ask.

You try to make him budge, even texting Ted who just tells you to get well soon.

Dani is super attentive. He’s always near if you need something.

If you’re warm, he’s carefully tying your hair back and pressing a damp flannel to your forehead.

If you’re cold, he’s glued to your side, entirely careless of his own health as he holds you, seemingly a human heater.

You’d expect nothing different from your sweet ball of sunshine, to be honest.

It almost makes you sad that he cares so little for his own health, but Dani just cares so much. You know you’d do the same for him, and you adore him a lot.

As soon as you drift off to sleep, he’s on the phone to his mother asking for home remedies.

She is so doting and lovely and Dani comes back with a list.

After a few days of medicines both pharmaceutical and natural, and a shit ton of cuddles and kisses, you’re feeling better.

And then, a day after that, Dani is sick… it’s your turn to phone his mother.

#just a little something for you pookies #dani rojas #dani rojas x reader #dani rojas imagine #dani rojas headcanons #dani rojas fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader

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multi-fandom-fanfiction · 2 years ago

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Requests I have (if you don't see yours please let me know)

Jamie and Cersei Lannister X Daughter!Reader (Platonic)

(Cersei wants to marry off there daughter but she is Jamie”s pride and joy and wont let that happen)

FP Jones X Reader (Smut) (FP Jones x reader!Andrew!rough)

Joffery Baratheon X Sister!Reader (Platonic!!!) he’s sadistic like joffery? that’s the reason they’re really close and trust each other more than anything

Joffery Baratheon X Sister!Reader (Smut) (joffrey imagine where him and his sister (2 years older) have always had sexual tension but they never saw it that way and one night while she’s changing joffrey bursts through the door angry about something but stops when he sees her. both of them at this point are horny for each other and he comes up to her kissing her while he grabs her breast and shes kind of in shock still but melts into it and yeah they have sex on the bed and take turns topping each other)

Ramsay Bolton X Sister!Reader (Smut) (Ramsay (got) has a younger sister and they often have intercourse, but this one night Ramsay brings Reek, his father and mother into readers room and ties them up. He tells them to watch. So Ramsay and her have really rough sex and tells them to look at her and makes her look at them to make sure they knows how good Ramsay makes her feel. When they’re done they kill them)

Betty Cooper X Fem!Reader (damn! i would have never imagined myself being with betty but when i was reading your post, u couldn’t stop myself from smiling! soft girlfriends haha. i love it! 💖💖💖 could you do something like this but as best friends with cheryl/toni or even both if it’s not too hard for you? i wanna see where it would go!)

Daenerys Targaryen X mercenary!male reader (The reader is a mercenary whom Cersei hires to kidnap Daenerys shortly after she arrives at Dragonstone. But instead of bringing Dany to Cersei, the mercenary decides to keep her for himself and tame her into becoming his willing lover)

Cersei Lannister X Fem!Reader (The reader faints in Cersei"s arm)

Petyr Baelish X Baratheon Fem!Reader (Semi Requested!) (Now that all of her brothers are gone Robert"s legitimate daughter has risen to be seated on the throne. Her council is demanding a husband what will the new queen do!)

Robb Stark X Baratheon Fem!Reader (Hey I love your work! Could I request some angsty robb stark x reader? Maybe reader is Cersei and robert’s true child and was married off to robb. Cersei is very distressed about your wellbeing when the war breaks out and when she learns of the plans of the red wedding, she begs her father to spare you. He does but at a price for your continued show of hatred of the Baratheons and lannisters. Letting you have to watch as robb dies and returning you home without realizing you’re pregnant.)

A wolverine request but I can’t find the info (so if you requested a wolverine request please resend it)

1.Twisted Desires

Dean, Sam, and Y/N Winchester were trapped together from the moment John found yellow eyes had killed the mother of his child was killed by yellow eyes in 1988 exactly five years after his wife and mother of his eldest two children were murdered by the same demon. The three lived by there father’s code doesn’t go somewhere twice and you don’t stay long. They never got to make friends so they were all each other had so maybe it was a flower in the attic complex. The three siblings loved each other far more than anyone else ever but maybe Sam and Dean’s love wasn’t a way older brothers were supposed to love their little sisters and Y/N’s love wasn’t a way a little sister should love her brothers. But they controlled themselves the best they could. Sam went away to college and Y/N and Dean continued until Sammy got home. The three of them wouldn’t admit it but they needed each other but one night after all three Winchesters were frustrated over a particularly hard case and tightened sexual tension. Sam threatens to leave and Dean tells him to go. What happens when Y/N breaks down and begs him to stay? Will she confess how she feels or will there twisted desires remain hidden?

1.Going against the gods

Ivar the Boneless always felt like everyone tortured him everyone but his perfect goddess like Y/H/C (Your Hair Color) hair and Y/E/C (Your eye color) little sister. She was made for him she loved all her brother’s but Ivar knew he was her favorite. Whatever he wanted she gave him whatever he wanted her to do she did. When he killed Sigurd she didn’t call him a monster and never talk to him again. She began to cry and beg the gods to let him into Valhalla but not before Ragnar’s only living daughter took his hands softly and told him he needs to work on his temper but she still loved him. When Ubbe and Hvitserk boarded the boat she refused yelling, “He needs us I will not leave our brother and I will not choose between the three of you.” Though his sister began to distance herself after he married Freydis and realized he was a god. She began to pull away from Ivar and with ever pull there was a slide closer to there older brother Hvitserk. Ivar didn’t like it and as king he had to stop it even if that meant going against the gods.

1.Love At First Sight

Okayyy so It Would be the little sister of Scott (cyclops) and Alex(Havok) wich would fall un Love With logan the first Time she sees him☺️(3

1.I never stopped loving you

Billy Hargrove and Y/N Harrington were young and in love many years ago in high school. They broke up because Billy didn’t know his worth. Billy stayed in Hawkins went to a trading school and opened a garage. He even started steadily with a new girl after Y/N never came home at Christmas and then summer. She went to a big college a few states away her way of escaping her family even though Billy always said she was running from him and his messy life. A few weeks after moving to college she finds out the biggest shock of her life. She was carrying Billy Hargrove’s baby. Only one person knew, her twin brother Steve Harrington. Now four years later Billy is engaged and Y/N is finally coming home. What will happen with the two back in town together?

2.Love Again

After Diana left him he though for sure he would never love again. Then the summer after the Hargrove's moved to town here comes Neil’s eldest daughter. 22-year-old Y/N moves to Hawkins Indiana after college. She pulled up one day to pick Max up from El’s. The moment Jim swung the door open his breath left his chest. What happens when he hires her as Eleven’s tutor and Jim finds himself falling in love with the young woman. Will Y/N fill the same way? Is this Jim Hopper’s chance to love again or will he get his heart broken again?

MY girl

Nikki and her new girlfriend make it official

1.Two Broken Souls

Y/N is heavier than her friends and suffers from it. They are constantly putting her down. Her parents are constantly fighting at home. Jughead Jones is the loner boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Both are broken and hurting. Will They find Solace in each other or will they both suffer in silence.

2. Death … and new chances

Y/N Andrews's best friend dies and she is opened to a new possibility for her son

1. Together:

Alex Standall Smut (4)

2. Our kids …..

Y/N Jensen is ready to co-parent with her one night stand

3. octavia blake x sister reader smut

4. Rebekah mikaelson x sister reader smut

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