#ghost chirps AU
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Ghost Chirps AU Part 3
Part 1 & 2
Around half past midnight, Jason is losing his patience.
They've been searching for hours and finding a whole lot of nothing, and statistics about the odds of finding kidnapping victims and the first 72 hours.
It's been almost 48 since he saw the kid and he's cursing himself for not doing more sooner.
Cameras are finding nothing, Signal is finding nothing, everyone is finding a whole lot of nothing.
And Jason...
Jason chirps.
He doesn't know if it'll help, but it's the only idea he's got. Even if it's a shallow chance. It's all he's got; he has to try.
And if Bruce decides that Jason being meta is the line? Then he'll cope.
He won't refuse to do something just because he's scared when his- when the kid's well being is on the line.
He won't be like Bruce, who'd let his killer walk free rather than do something about it because his feelings were somehow more important when Jason died.
He won't.
The first chirp yields nothing.
He does it again pushing to try and make it as loud as possible.
Again, nothing.
Again, he chirps, something in him certain that if he just keeps going it'll work. Somehow. But he's learned to trust his gut - or weird meta instincts?
And it works.
Because after the third chirp the kid chirps back.
Except.
The kid is not in Gotham.
He is very, very not in Gotham.
He chalks it up to his weird meta-bird instincts that he somehow just knows it came from somewhere hundreds of miles that-a-way.
Kidnapping is looking more likely given just how far the kid got, but now?
Now Jason has a way to find him.
He ignores Oracle asking about mask static in favor of hopping down from the balcony he'd paused on and heading back to the batbike - Bruce's paranoia meant it would have more than enough gas to take him as far as he needed to go and then some.
'And more than enough weapons to level a block, if needed,' he thinks viciously.
"Hood!" Oracle’s sharp voice shakes him from his thoughts.
"Found the kid," he shoots back, hoping to avoid the inevitable questioning.
Mixed exclamations of relief and confusion echoed over the radio.
"How!?" Nightwing cries. "I was literally right next to you! What did I miss!?"
"What are you, deaf?" he grumbles back irritably, uncomfortable. It'd be easier if they were, he thinks. Then he wouldn't have to explain.
"Does this have something to do with the static noise your helmet was producing previously? I had worried it was damaged," Oracle asks.
"Static?" Jason echoes, not slowing a bit - nearly to the bike.
"Oh yeah!" Nightwing says, as though she's making perfect sense.
'Ah,' he thinks, 'A shred of mercy in this vastly cruel existence.'
Aloud, he just says, "Yup. He's not in Gotham anymore, though, and I don't know how far he'll end up going or how long I'll be gone. Anyone who wants to come with can catch up, because I'm leaving now."
15 seconds later he's leaping onto the batbike and peeling out.
***
Jason doesn’t chirp again until he’s nearly to Illinois.
He wants to. He wants to chirp nonstop the moment he hears that first reply, wants to spend the whole hours-long drive listening to nothing but a litany of chirps that reassure him that his kid is alive alive alive.
He won’t risk it.
He doesn’t know where, exactly, the kid is. Doesn’t know if his family didn’t hear him because the chirps are only audible to him and the kid or if it was really due to a helmet malfunction covering for him.
But there is a chance that whoever has the kid can hear his chirps, so Jason won’t risk having him respond more than he absolutely has to in order to find him.
The next time, the kid answers back to the very first chirp, and Jason knows he’s heading in the right direction.
He gets turned around just once, overshooting and heaving to loop back, but he curses himself for it anyway - wasting precious time when the kid is going through who knows what.
Then he’s entering Amity Park: a nice place to live.
A nice place to die, for whoever it was that took his kid.
Several chirps later he’s in front of a school - of all things.
He doesn’t waste time doubting himself - kidnapping victims could be stashed anywhere - he storms in, batbike left idling at the base of the front steps.
Three chirps later he’s slamming through a door into a classroom. Full of kids. Taking a totally normal class - aside, of course, from Jason’s interruption.
One last exchange of chirps later and he finally lays eyes on his little shadow - who has the audacity to also look surprised, as if he wasn’t the one to lead him here in the first place.
Jason takes a moment to feel relieved, adrenaline beginning to crash before it revs back up with his indignation.
What happened to ‘goodbye!’ Who in their right mind would disappear from Gotham and not think that those left behind would assume they were kidnapped!? It’s Gotham!
Oh. Oh the child was in Gotham alone.
The child was in Gotham for a vacation.
Oh the child’s parents didn’t even realize he was gone? He’s worried about them putting him in an iron maiden!?
Jason’s eyes may be green, but oh, how his vision is red.
He barely hears the school’s alarm going off when he finally drives off-grounds, laser focused on following the road to the dot that’s popped up on his helmet just a few streets off, sending a curt thank-you to Oracle for saving him the effort of finding the kid’s address himself - she’s done him the courtesy of leaving everyone muted from his end, but he has little doubt they’ve all been listening to him. He’s only surprised she’s willing to condone the murder.
But then, of course she didn’t, he thinks as he pulls into a decently shadowed alley full of bats and birds. He’s torn between being touched that all of them came and being annoyed that he isn’t already in the process of murdering the kid’s parents.
“New Brother?” Orphan asks the moment the bike is off, head tilting in question from her dumpster-top perch.
A second, smaller sense of outrage bubbles up next to the first, and it is a testament to his impeccable self-control that his hand only twitches over his gun at the question.
Bruce - Batman - tries to say something, but before he can finish even just the first syllable Jason’s head is snapping around to glare hell at him, and a low, animalistic growl practically rips itself from his throat.
He can see the way everyone tenses - subtle to anyone else, but a glaring neon sign in Jason’s vision.
He curses himself for it; he asked them to be here. He specifically requested their help, and they gave it. The more of them there are involved, the faster they can help the kid into a safer environment.
But Jason came here to help the kid, not to offer him up as the next sacrifice in Batman’s long line of child soldiers.
“You wanna help? Great. Rule One: YOU,” he points at the bat for emphasis, “can’t adopt him.”
He chokes on whatever he was intending to say next at Orphan’s delighted clap and exclamation of “nephew!”
He wants to correct her, but… he doesn’t.
Crime Alley is no place to raise a kid; Jason knows that.
He knows it more than anyone, having spent his early years there and his most recent years trying to make it better. He knows that.
But h- the kid is a meta.
Looking at the facts: the kid is meta.
The kid is meta whose first concern with rule breaking is punishment via torture device.
The kid’s parents are neglectful enough that he spent over a week in Gotham and they never even noticed.
The kid went to Gotham to escape his home.
Whether his parents know that he is a meta or not, it is clear to Jason that the kid needs to be Out Of That House. Yesterday.
But he also knows just how metas are treated - even the MPA can only do so much against the tides of hatred and fear.
And he’s seen the maps - he knows this state is one of the worse ones for metas to live in, let alone a meta child at the mercy of a foster family that has even odds of neglecting him, being just as bad as his original family, or possibly actually caring about him.
Crime Alley is no place to raise a kid, and Red Hood is far from the right person for such a job.
But Crime Alley isn’t all that Gotham is, and perhaps Jason Todd could very easily decide to get an apartment in a nicer area.
He won’t lie to himself, he knows he isn’t parent material, but he’ll at least be a step up from what the kid is used to while he works to vet a real family to transfer him to.
He’s halfway through his mental checklist of the options for the safest place for an apartment and other such logistics when he’s reminded of where he is by Oracle’s voice in his ear.
“Hate to interrupt the group brooding you guys have going on over there, but I managed to dig up… a lot of information about the boy and his family situation.”
He notes how the others all perk up from where they’d been…staring at him.
Ah, that was why it was so quiet. They were staring in disbelief when he didn’t deny the nephew thing. Well. A conversation for another time.
“Lay it on me,” he says to Oracle, ignoring them.
“His name is Daniel James Fenton, goes by Danny, high grades throughout elementary and middle school until they took a steep drop at the beginning of highschool - likely related to whatever happened when his metagene activated.
Has one sibling, a sister named Jasmine Fenton - no middle name. She goes by Jazz. High grades across the board with no notable dips. No indication of possible metagene in any of her records or in Danny’s, beyond the grade drop and your own first-hand experience.
Parents Jack and Madeline “Maddie” Fenton. They have their own personal website where they describe themselves as “ectobiologists” and as ghost hunters. The pictures in their gallery show a vast array of weapons - dubbed “ectoweapons” - in the same chrome-green style with the name “Fenton” stamped somewhere on them. Some of the weapons are for sale on their site, advertised for defending oneself against ghosts. There are some pictures of what must be their lab, all of which look to include at least 12 different types of OSHA violation, and the image in their site’s “about” section has the whole family standing in the lab in front of what looks like a vertical Lazarus Pit.”
“What,” Batman says more than asks, voice tense.
“And judging by the staircase seen reflecting off of one of the guns in the picture, it seems that this lab is in their basement - I can’t see why it wouldn’t be, given they were fine with putting an enormous monstrosity of a satellite on top of their building.
There are plenty of cameras in the house itself, but for some reason all I can get from them is static. Any video or audio in the house that they don’t put on their site appears to be unusable for some reason.
All told, there is plenty of cause to get CPS involved. If their lab safety is even half as bad as it looks and it’s in their basement it’s pretty much a sure thing that the kids’ll be taken from them.
Given the small-towny nature of the area it’ll be best to contact someone from outside of the community for the case. It’ll move things along significantly if we have somewhere to send them.
They have an aunt, Alicia Walker, but she’s already marked down as a “no” for taking them in in the event something should happen to the Fentons.
This leaves their godfather: Vlad Masters. An incredibly reclusive billionaire, pursued the same Paranormal Science degree as the Fentons did when they were in college, but suffered an accident that put him in the hospital for two years with an unknown illness that Masters was allowed to name “ecto-acne.” Lost all contact with the Fentons until he invited them to a reunion party last fall and was named godfather three weeks later.
Masters got his wealth through a series of suspicious business deals. No one has been able to prove foul play yet, but just glancing over some of the early papers is already showing plenty of inconsistencies.
No other relatives - the Walker parents passed away some time ago, and while one of the Fentons remains, she’s in a nursing home. And also disowned Jack. And went out of her way to disown both Jazz and Danny as soon as she heard about them.”
“Great. Make Jason Todd a long lost cousin, set CPS on them. Red Hood is here because Danny ran away to Gotham and stuck his nose in crime alley so I tracked him down because I thought he was kidnapped in my territory, the Bats chased down Red Hood thinking he was gonna hurt the boy, CPS is there because your research turned up the potential unsafe living conditions and you overheard that the kid was gone for a week without anyone noticing - which scream neglect. Now we’re cooperating because we’re all annoyed at the parents that let their kid wander all the way to Gotham and convinced him that a torture device was a possible grounding option.”
He turns to Batman.
“You can claim to have done a DNA search to find the connection, and I’m sure you can find a reason to dismiss Masters as an option. Make sure to have them call Jason as soon as possible. Oracle-”
“Already routing incoming calls through Gotham. Also, both of Masters’ residences have inaccessible cameras similar to what I’m experiencing with the Fentons. He can be dismissed under suspicion of having an OSHA nightmare in his home. I’ll see if he has his own vertical Lazarus Pit while you all work on exfiltrating the niece and nephew.”Jason doesn’t dignify that with a response, hopping back on his bike to follow the new route - this time actually to the Fenton household.
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Jason, sobbing and throwing bread slices at a pile of blankets: "I can't believe I'm feeding my kid a loaf of bread instead of a four course home cooked meal this is the worst possible timeline"
Danny, trapped in blanket jail and being fed slices of bread: "help"
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Not me making an entire au up in my head of Jason becoming a Talon and meeting up with Dick and the bittersweetness of that. Like Dick is a mix of grieving and overjoyed because “omg his little wings back! But he’s like me now nooo” but eventually after a lot of adjusting and jogging Jason’s memory they settle down into a new normal (hurt/comfort w a happy ending my beloved)
Notes on this:
Jason and Dick regularly have conversations in their silly little bird speak, it’s gotten to the point where the others had to start learning parts of it to keep up
Due to newly acquired Bird Instincts(tm), Jason now has owlet tendencies around Dick. That’s actually how they got Jason to calm down when they found him after being talonized, Dick threw himself at him and Jason was like “oh. This is an older Talon, he’s protecting me” and bb little bb boi instincts kicked in and he immediately relaxed against Dicks chest. Owlet instincts also include making littl bb peeps when tired and cuddling w Dick and everyone finds it incredibly adorable
Well the original Court of Owls was destroyed, a few Owls managed to survive and formed a new branch. They found a comatose Jason and made him a Talon along the same lines as Dick
This is the one time that I’m making Cass younger than Jason because I like the idea of talons Dick and Jay being overprotective older siblings to everyone. Cass bonds with the two over being turned into living weapons, they’re really close
Every time a new kid is brought into the fold, they gotta be explained why Dick and Jason are Like This(tm), and then get a crash course on silly bird sounds
Jason calls his new vigilante persona “owlet” and patrols with Dick instead of Bruce
…this became ridiculously long. At this point I wonder if I should just write this. If anyone else wants to feel free lol
Aweeee, talon brothers 🥺 Jay’s baby owl instincts sound so darn cute 🥺🥺🥺💚
#owl song AU#ghost talks#talon dick peeping and chirping at Jason and ruffling his hair and Jason just MELTING#jason todd#dick grayson#batfamily#cassandra cain#cass immeditaley being able to understand because a lot of bird language is just body language#the chirping comes after for emphasis or calming purpose#it’s complex#Tim drake#Bruce Wayne#batfam
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What was that ghost art based on??? it's so cool!!
thank you!! I appreciate it! <3 I made the ghost!robins theme specifically for the zine, so I haven’t had the time to really build it up yet, but it’s essentially the concept of the robins if batman Didn’t Get There in Time, so now before passing on, they’ve latched themselves to the gotham vigilante in hopes that he can solve their respective cases.
more under the cut!
I also find a bunch of kids poltergeisting wayne manor to goad the batman into helping them very funny. not to mention the sense of commitment bruce would have toward bringing them closure, since he never really got that after his parents’ deaths. so batman DOES end up having robins in this universe, but rather than working with him in the traditional sense, they would probably specialize in recon/information gathering, general spying activities, and tampering with whatever they feel will make the mission go faster so that batman can go back to solving THEIR case instead of whatever the riddler has going on any given day.
plot-wise, I haven’t really settled on the robins’ causes of death, but probably in the ballpark of: dick’s failed confrontation with zucco, jason’s confrontation with joker (for catherine, because of her apparent death, or for sheila, for blackmailing her…unsure. comics are complicated), tim being caught in the crossfire of a battle while trying to get evidence of batman, and steph most likely as a result of cluemaster. there are little hints to those in the newspaper headlines in the drawing!
Alfred and Babs/Oracle are also alive in this au! no huge changes for them, although I do think babs would be absolutely exasperated at being asked to modify some of her tech to detect paranormal activity (what is bruce thinking??) before realizing that. oh. no yeah there are Ghosts Here. I thought you finally lost it my bad
alfred is just. he’s seen enough. I doubt he’d believe bruce’s suspicions at first but he spends enough time around the manor to notice when his cleaning supplies keep scooting away from him every time he reaches for them. he can’t see them so he just kind of has to scold the air to stop messing around.
so yeah that’s kind of all I have for now? this au has really been growing on me and I’d love to make more for it in the future! thanks again for asking, and I’m glad you liked my art! :D
#cricket chirps#ghost!robins#<- tentative tag? this needs a better name#feel free to throw ideas in the replies/rbs !!!#batman au
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I think it’d be very funny if I only ever posted stuff I draw/write about the pjsk girls actually.
#★ peri chirps#gotta get on the kanamafu ghost mom au#there’s also a severe lack of mmj on this blog and they are the lesbians ever
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H0M357UCK
redundant anon i just made a FUCKING au
#my stuff#krill chirps#dove asks#this sounds self deprecating but its a cool au#im proud of it even if its pretty half baked rn#3 word: ghosts are plural
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Ghost chirps au but instead of the cute little bird songs and peeps it’s just-
“CAW”
Like a giant crow or flock of crows if there’s more than one ghost. Danny being able to gather all of Gotham’s crows, as a giant army because he sounds like them.
Crows: Who tf are you
Danny: CAW
Crows: Say less homie
He’s named every last one of them and has trained them all to pick locks and steal. He’s respected by the crows because he’s the only one with dexterous hands. If they can’t open something they call in the big guns (AKA Danny) Like imagine being a Gothamite and watching a enormous flock of crows seemingly summoning a scrawny child out nowhere to unlock a dumpster? Like they’re crowding around him like he’s the messiah, a god even and they all just squawk in unison when the kid pulls out a bobby pin and picks the padlock. They’re dropping, coins, bottle caps, earrings, bullet shells, anything vaguely shiny and the occasional paper money into his hands.
The kid has a necklace of soda tabs and bottle cap earrings. He also just walks around collecting beer bottles and later sells little glass statues that have a bioluminescent glow (HC that Danny can melt and shape glass with weaker ecto blasts) Glowing glass jewelry is weaved into his hair that is seemingly a identity confirmation for the crows.
Nobody knows the kids name he just showed up one day with his massive army of crows and started to wander. After around a month of the kid wandering around without a care in the world and not dying the locals decide “Huh, I guess crow prince is here to stay,” Like, they accept him as a local cryptid.
Like “Yeah, crow king just kind of vibes but if you give him food, he’ll bash in a pedophiles kneecaps,”
Shit goes down When Danny discovers his chirps can also sound like geese.
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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 5
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.6][Pt.7]
“So you’re that dead kid everyone’s talking about.”
Danny smacked a trash bag into the purple clad vigilante. “You can pick up the glass.”
“Wait, I’m just here to-”
“Bother me when I’m working? At least the litterer brings me cash. You can help clean or you can leave. Plastics go over there.”
Danny pointed at a pile of plastics, ignoring Spoiler’s bemused look. Hard to tell, really, considering her mask.
“I’ll help clean if you answer some questions!” Spoiler chirped, already moving to pick out the glass in the general trash pile Danny’s managed to gather. He nodded.
“Alright. At least you’re helping. The other one just bothers me and leaves his stuff on the beach.”
Spoiler snorted. “I’m Spoiler. Is the litterer Batman?”
“Sure. I don’t really care what his name is,” which was a complete lie, Danny was a fan. It’s just that messing with Batman (especially after he couldn’t clean up after himself, honestly!) overrode his fan behavior. “But if I catch him leaving shit in the waters again…”
Danny frowned, eyes glowing. He could feel- even with his partial tangibility, the muck of Gotham's waters seeping into his boots. It was not giving 'Live, Laugh, Love' to Danny, and he needed it gone.
“Whatever. They dropped a lot of guns down here. You can deal with those too, yeah?”
“I'm pretty sure that's evidence?!”
“If you could call it that.” Danny plucked away the Styrofoam and the hazardous (more than regular, anyways) materials away from the trash pile so Spoiler could dig through with her gloves without contracting sixteen different sorts of illnesses.
“So, what brings you to Gotham?”
Danny pointed at the water. “Came for school. Stayed because you losers polluted the water with dead bodies and gross chemicals.”
“You go to school?”
“Hey, that’s discriminatory.”
“Oops! No, sorry! I meant-”
Danny waved her off, irritably separating a bottle cap from the crushed bottle. Seriously, what’s the point of putting the cap back on if you were going to throw it in the bay anyways?
“It’s fine. How else am I supposed to learn about the advancements made in the scientific industry otherwise?”
Even if Danny wasn’t too sure that science could sure stupidity, but a halfa could dream, right?
"So... do you just... listen in on lectures?"
Danny stared at her. "What else would I do in a class??"
"Oh. I just thought since you're dead and all, you'd do something more... fun?"
"I mean, I could terrorize the local villains for kicks, if that's what you meant."
Spoiler brightened. "Actually, yeah! That would be helpful! If Mr. Freeze keeps bringing the cold during my latte Thursdays, I'm gonna snap and wring his cold little chicken neck."
Danny snorted. "Alright. I will keep an eye out for this Mr. Freeze." Danny paused. "Hey, tell your friend to come down and help us."
"What- oh. Black Bat!" Stephanie waved her partner down. Black Bat gracefully slipped down towards the bay, casually knocking out two goons gunning for Spoiler.
'Careful,' Black Bat signed.
"Thanks!" Spoiler bounced on the heels of her feet. She swept an arm out. "Wanna help?"
Black Bat tilted her head and, after placing Danny under quick but thorough scrutiny, nodded.
'You can get the salvageable stuff. Anything you can't lift, leave to me.' Danny signed clumsily, placing emphasis on can't.
"You know sign language?"
"I'm not too good at it, I just learned this version."
He knew ghost-sign first, after all.
"Chop, chop. I don't have all night."
----
Danny learned that Black Bat had the skill to knock cans into their designated piles if he threw them in the air so she could kick at them.
"You two can come back anytime."
Spoiler whooped while Black Bat leaned back, smug.
"Wait, tell the litterer he owes me $200. He was short last time."
"...Are you telling me Batman owes you money?"
"Yeah. He might be in financial straights, so I gave him some lee-way."
Black Bat and Spoiler looked at each other.
----
"Hey, so guess what I learned about sea boy!"
Bruce's head swiveled to her with startling intensity. The rest of the clan tuned in.
"He knows sign language! Maybe he even knows ancient sign language! And goes to school, but since he's like, dead, he could only listen to the lectures."
"Bruce, Bruce, do not start a ghost-education plan. Stop. We don't even know if he even-" Dick tackled Bruce, who was already writing a petition as Bruce Wayne to give partial credit to students that diligently goes to class.
"Oh, yeah!" Stephanie shouted over the unraveling chaos. "He promised to fuck with our Rogues for a bit so we can get a break! And we also got a bunch of guns!"
"Where? Gimme!" Jason demanded.
"Do not give Todd more firearms!" Damian cut in.
"Also!" Stephanie grinned as Cass shook with laughter. "Batman's a debtor! He owes Phantom $200!"
"Ain't no fucking way." Tim cackled. "Hear that Bruce? That's karma! For not defending me when he called me broke!"
#batman#danny phantom#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#bruce wayne#bruce has already adopted this kid#just not with paperwork#but that's a trivial matter for BatDad#he's also going to adopt both tucker and sam#dcxdp#sea cryptic! danny au
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Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)
Chap. 1 : Your Name
Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach.
Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere.
Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut)
Word Count: 6.8k
Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher
A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')
Masterlist
PROLOGUE
You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.
Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway.
The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion.
Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes.
You’d never love again.
“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.
By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.
“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road.
You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays.
Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life.
Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love.
Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake.
“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded.
“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.
“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”
You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.
“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”
Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.
“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”
“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”
“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”
You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved.
The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough.
Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil.
It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better.
Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long?
You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again.
**
You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement.
“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.
“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.
You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.
“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.
Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks.
“Really, Maria. You do.”
“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.
Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.
“Is that her dad?” You asked.
He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone.
“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”
“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.
Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.
“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”
“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.
You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled. And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance.
And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest.
“What was that?” Maria chirped.
You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you.
“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”
“It looked like something.”
You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you.
Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles.
“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”
“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”
You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.
“Miss Smith!”
“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.
With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes.
“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked.
“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally.
“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.
“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement.
“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”
His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.
“Joel,” he insisted.
You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?
Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home.
The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.
The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit.
You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.
“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.
“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”
“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.
“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.
Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.
“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.
“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”
“It’s my fault. I can fix it.”
You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true.
“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”
He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before.
“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” you mumbled.
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.
“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”
Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.
“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”
His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours.
“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”
“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”
“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”
There was a lot of harm in it.
You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly.
“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.
You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.
“Yes, Mr. Miller?”
“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there.
“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.
Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous.
“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”
“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”
His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in.
“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.
“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.
“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.
“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”
That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.
“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”
“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch.
“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”
“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”
“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”
Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.
It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget.
The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.
“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”
“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk.
“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated.
“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”
She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents.
“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.
“I don’t know,” you sighed.
“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”
There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.
You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out.
The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see.
Joel Miller.
He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here.
“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.
You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing.
“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”
She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip.
“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”
“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”
“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.
You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.
Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.
You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—
“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.
“Mr. Miller,” you said.
“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased.
“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”
Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body.
“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.
“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”
Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips.
“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”
“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”
“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned.
“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer.
“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?”
Was he… flirting with you?
You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment.
“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”
Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care.
“What other flavors do you like?”
He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.
“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.
Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered.
“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered.
“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”
“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered.
Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency.
Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality.
“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”
Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away.
“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.
“How do you know? Were you watching me?”
“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?”
He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends.
“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”
Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach.
“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked.
“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.
You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.
“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.
Joel peered around you and huffed loudly.
“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”
“He doesn’t look too happy.”
“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.
Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.
“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”
“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.
“Wait!” Joel called out.
“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”
You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built.
You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot.
“Fuck,” you groaned.
As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.
“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained.
“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you.
The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer.
“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”
Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins.
“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud.
Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.
“No,” he whispered softly.
Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door.
“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder.
The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car.
“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear.
“I’m—.”
“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”
He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner.
“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck.
“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”
You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior.
“Get in.”
His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar.
You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness.
Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile.
“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light.
You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”
“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”
A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably.
“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”
You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction.
“This is me,” you sniffled.
“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”
“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”
“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.
“It’s all formalities.”
“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”
Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.
“Can I just know one thing?” He asked.
You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.
“What’s your name?”
Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.
#joel miller x reader#joel x female reader#joel x f!reader#joel miller x teacher!f!reader#joel miller fanfic#joel tlou#tlou#tlou fanfiction#joel miller#pre outbreak!joel
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Burnt Coffee
Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x gn! Reader
Genre: fluff
Summary: Running a cafe hadn’t been as glamorous as you initially believed. You loved your job; the cozy aroma of the different roasts, the hum of the espresso machine, the foam art you tediously practiced until a cute bear face stared back from the surface of a cappuccino. But any new shop comes with quirks, like the fire alarm that goes off almost every morning. Luckily, the fire station is just across the street and you unknowingly have one of the fireman wrapped around your finger.
Warnings: coffee shop owner reader, firefighter Hoshi, pockets of angst, crying, lots of mentions of food and coffee, firefighter jihoon and his baker gf, crying, kissing
Length: ~4.6k
Note: second valentine's fic! surprise! written for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub. Happy Valentine's @idyllic-ghost / @bee-buzzez !!! i hope its the cafe au of your dreams
read more here
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!
“I’ve got an iced dirty chai with oat milk at the end of the bar!”
A sour-faced woman scoffs, “That isn’t what I ordered.”
“Well, is your name Samantha?”
“No.”
“Then it isn’t your order.”
The exchange between Seungkwan and the woman rings familiar. Sundays bring out the best in everyone it seems. But you're too busy handling the never ending line of drink tickets to scold him for poor customer service. Focusing on the machine, you pull shot after shot; inadvertently covering yourself in errant splashes of milk and coffee. The rush of the morning is still going strong but you hone into the rhythm and let your mind fall away from anything beyond the cups resting atop the counter next to you.
But as always, the steam from the milk frother continues to heat the space above; right where the over sensitive fire alarm was installed.
The shrill blaring freezes everyone in place. A few children scream in shock, making the vein on your temple throb. Your ears ring with each pulse as your head falls into your hands.
Every single morning since you opened Fika two months ago the alarm went off without fail.
And then he would show up like clockwork.
The bell attached to the wooden door chimes as Soonyoung breaks through the threshold of the cafe. Grimaced faces greet him. The shrill fire alarm with flash lights blares into the industrial space, bouncing off the walls to echo inanely.
“Earlier than usual.” Soonyoung chirps as he saunters past the line, easily rounding the bar to access the screeching piece of junk inconveniently placed above the espresso machine.
You step out of the way, face flat and mouth tense. “Busy day.” You explain.
The alarm cuts off as swift as it started, Soonyoung stepping back to smile down at you.
“I can hang around in case. Seems like that line isn’t going anywhere.”
“Yeah, sure. Do you want something to drink?” You offer stepping back to the line of cups littering the metal counter.
“Ooo, buying me drinks already? Aren’t you presumptuous?”
The wiggle of his eyebrows is meant to be suggestive but they only make him look like he ate a mouthful of sour candy.
“Nevermind.” You huff, stepping around the man as you grab the next cup in line and start working. “Go save a cat in a tree or something.”
Sensing your waning mood, Soonyoung cuts the act. “I’ll just have my regular.”
“You know where the cups are.”
A full cup of brewed coffee joins him on the opposite side of the counter. Soonyoung plants himself in his usual chair, chin resting on his curled fist as he watches you work your magic.
On slow days he’ll chat your ear off until the fire station calls him back. But on days like today, he’s content to in silence; obsessed with the sureness of your hands, the strong pout of your lips, and the way everything seems pulled into your gravity.
Maybe he has a crush on you.
Scratch that; Soonyoung definitely has a crush on you.
And everyone knows. His supervisor, Jihoon, knows. It’s why Soonyoung is always the one to come and fix the faulty alarm in the shop. His best friend, Seokmin, knows. It’s why Seokmin and his fiancee constantly batter him with texts about when he’ll ask you on a date. If someone went to space and looked down they could see how much he likes you without even trying.
You hit a lull and Soonyoung takes his chance. “Got any special plans this week?”
“We’re doing themed baked goods on Wednesday.” You call over your shoulder.
It’s not what Soonyoung was asking about but he takes it in stride.
Your employees also know about the fireman’s feelings. It’s why Seungkwan throws a pitying look his way along with a deformed muffin. Subtle rejection tastes like blueberries and brown sugar.
“Will you save me one?” Soonyoung asks.
“Is free coffee not enough?”
“Who said I wouldn’t pay for it?”
You never let Soonyoung pay for anything at the cafe. Despite how much he enjoys free food, it always makes him feel a bit guilty. It’s why you think he only drinks black coffee with a lethal amount of sugar when in reality he’d take some fancy espresso drink any day.
You laugh as you continue to work through the next batch of orders. “We’ll see if there are any left.”
“I’m a civil servant!”
“Serve in silence please!” Seungkwan barks, earning a few chuckles from the other customers sitting at the bar.
The back and forth continues and eventually the line dwindles to nothing as the morning lulls on. Soonyoung downs two more cups and manages to haggle Seungkwan for an overly toasted slice of banana bread with a singed corner he planned to throw out anyway.
The entire time Soonyoung watches you. Even covered in splashes of milk and coffee stains, he’s still enamored with you as you lean over the bar and jot notes in the ever expanding list of repairs and updates the shop needs.
And just when Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something, anything, the shrill beep of his phone cuts him off.
“Damn, I gotta head back.” He curses. “Just call if you need me again, okay?”
“Will do.”
You don’t even look up as he walks towards the door.
“Satan is one the phone for you.”
“Please be less specific.” You beg Seungkwan, grabbing the receiver still on hold.
“Bakery lady.”
Steeling yourself, you unmute the phone and bring it to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Y/N?”
“Yes.”
“I was reviewing orders for Valentine’s. You're only doing the usual? I thought we talked about special items. I already bought the ingredients so if you changed your mind it’s putting me out of money.”
“No, we need at least two dozen of the cupcakes and two dozen of the cookies on top of our usual order.”
“That’s not what the order form says!” The old crone hawks through the line.
You ask her for a moment while pulling out your laptop and settling into a seat far away from the clusters of customers still strung throughout the cafe.
Wiping your face, you stare at the illuminated screen of your computer with the order form pulled up. “I have the form on my screen right now and it clearly says—”
“I don’t care what you’re looking at, it’s not what I have on my end!”
“Are you sure you’re looking at the form for Fika on Second street?”
“I’m telling you I’m—oh.”
The deflation in her tone pulls a smirk across your lips. “Hm?”
“Alright so two dozen red velvet cupcakes and two dozen heart sugar cookies?”
“Yep.”
“Alright, I’ll have it on Wednesday.”
“Thanks.”
Click.
The table shakes with the impact of your forehead. The clatter of your mug draws attention from the few customers around but none pay much attention.
“Everything okay?” A voice asks from above.
“Great. Wonderful.” You say into the wood.
“Good. Because the espresso machine is broken…again.”
You rise from your seat, face indecipherable as you walk past the counter, through the back storage area and into the alley behind the building.
Several seconds pass before you release a guttural scream. It's gritty, ripping apart your throat as all bubbling exhaustion breaches your lips. The noise echos between the brick walls before escaping to the sky above. Several pigeons flee to the rooftops for safety while mice and other vermin scuffle along the walls in terror.
Seungkwan watches from the door, eyes wide as you continue to belt for the trash bags and city rats witnessing your meltdown.
Your voice fizzles as you run out of air. Closing your eyes, you take two deep breaths. Inhaling the scent of stale storm water and whatever else perfumes the back alley until the stretch of your lungs burns from the inside out.
And then you turn and walk back inside as if the entire thing never happened.
The block is only illuminated by streetlights at this hour. Not even the earliest of early birds litter the narrow sidewalk as you push into the empty cafe and begin prepping for the Monday morning rush. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, the whir of the grinder harmonizing with the jazz playlist curling down from the speakers.
The calm before the storm.
Slowly the first shift employees trickle in just before opening; relieving you to commandeer the office slash storage room in the back, intent on knocking out the mountain of paperwork and following up with the repair man about the alarm he said he would be back to fix last week. But first, the phone blinking with unread messages.
“This is Megan. We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warr—”
Message deleted.
The next message is a young man reporting his credit card missing and visiting your shop. You call and let his voicemail know no one has seen anything but you hope he figures it out.
“Hi Y/N. This is Cheryl with Harmony Bakers. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to get that special order for Valentine’s Day. Or your regular order for tomorrow. We’ve decided to close up shop. Sorry about the inconvenience.”
The words don’t hit at first. But your brain slowly catches up to what Cheryl is saying. Canceling. She’s canceling two days before Valentine’s.
Your attempts to return her call fall flat. Six tries and all ring once before dropping into an automated message reporting her voicemail is full, no doubt from the other shops she’s also shafted with the impulsive decision.
No holiday treats. No regular food items. No back up. No plan B.
Failure, failure, failu—
The pad of paper littered with notes sails into the not so far wall only to slap against the plaster and slip to the ground.
You can only focus on one problem at a time. Or at least the problem whose solution won’t send you to jail. And that means heading to the front where the day is starting to pick up.
The boys have things under control but the line is lengthening and you’re a great way to relieve the pressure. Immediately an invisible song pulls you into the rhythm of their work; drinks and food hit the end of the bar almost as fast as the orders came in.
Soonyoung comes in and waits at the counter as usual. The alarm seems to be granting mercy given the horrible state of affairs from this morning.
The customers not so much.
“God, how stupid are you that you messed up a simple order? It’s a fucking americano and you made it taste like ass.”
The man standing at the end of the bar, hands flat on the counter in an attempt to physically dominate the space, always complains. His iced drinks are too cold, his hot drinks are too hot, the weather is bad, taxes are too high, the list continues on and on. And somehow it's always your fault.
Usually its little barbs under his breath but today he’s out for blood and you’ve already had enough.
Your teeth grit together so hard it feels like the forced smile plastered on your face might crack them into dusk. “Like I said, I can remake it for you if you’d lik—”
“Why would I want you to remake it? You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Get someone else.”
“I got it.” Seungcheol steps forward.
The older man gives him an apprehensive look. Seungcheol is harmless but he knows how to be scary when he wants to be.
“I’m gonna go…restock something…” you warble, all but sprinting to the back.
Plastic sleeves of cups and boxes of straws bear witness to your breakdown. The six am tantrum clouds in and your carefully built dam of control explodes. Hot tears streak your cheeks, dripping off the jut of your chin with every gasping breath from the knot in your throat tangling tighter and tighter. All you can hear are ugly gasping breaths as you rock back and forth in the dark.
The sliver of light spilling in from the cracked door doesn’t register given the way your face is buried in your hands. Soonyoung has half a mind to pretend he never entered the cramped space. He’s never seen you so… small.
A shrill squeak of the hinge alert you to the new presence. Bloodshot eyes find his wide ones and you swipe at your face to hide the evidence of your distress. You go to speak but barely manage a croak before the tears come again.
“Shit,” Soonyoung whispers. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”
The warmth of his chest makes you cry harder, tears spilling onto his neck as you hide from the world. He smooths the flat of his palm across your back.
It's anyone’s guess how long you stay there. Soonyoung’s cheek rests on the top of your head, arms firm around your shoulders. The faint smell of smoke tickles your nose. Smoke and pine from his cologne. It tethers your mind, lulling the frantic breakdown and giving you something to focus on other than how horrible the day has become in the span of a few hours.
No baked goods. Horrible customers. And now you’re being held by the handsome fighter from next door with snot dripping from your nose.
Soonyoung hesitates when you shift in his hold, arms tightening for a second in case another bout of tears crops up. But you pull far enough away to send an embarrassed grimace his way before looking anywhere else.
“Sorry.” You say, turning to snatch napkins from the shelf next to you.
His hand continues to rub your shoulders as you dab your eyes and blow your nose.
“It’s okay. That guy was a jerk.”
“I don’t care what he said.”
Soonyoung stares in disbelief, waiting for you to continue.
“My baker canceled on me, and the espresso machine is held together with duct tape, and there's a million other things going wrong, not to mention the fire alarm. And I just…”
Squeezing your eyes tight to prevent the moisture swelling in the corners proves unhelpful. To Soonyoung’s credit he stays silent, allowing you all the time you need to get your thoughts in order. But the hand on your back continuing to trace abstract shapes between your shoulder blades lets you know he’s there when you’re ready.
“It’s just been a rough week.” You say to the floor.
The admission lifts the ten pound weight off your chest. Soonyoung isn’t an employee you need to guarantee everything is okay to or a customer requiring a mask. He’s a…friend? It feels generous but if he was anything less you doubt he’d be where he is now.
“Is there any way I can help?”
You blow your nose into the tissue before laughing wetly. “I don’t suppose you have a magic wand, do you?”
“Just broke mine actually.” He winces sarcastically.
What’s another thing on your never ending to-do list? Along with the desperate need to buy more supplies for tomorrow, how difficult can it be to conjure artisan baked goods out of thin air?
“Actually,” Soonyoung perks. “Jihoon’s girlfriend works at a bakery. Pete’s? No, wait. Penny’s?”
“Petunia’s?”
“That’s the one! Maybe I can ask her if she can help?”
“Good luck.” You snort. “They couldn’t even fit me into their normal rotation.”
“We won’t know until we ask!” He chips, thrilled he can help.
Soonyoung jumps up, a cruel chill invading the space he once occupied. Like the sun moving behind a cloud and leaving you at the mercy of a cool breeze; there and gone before you can delve into what it means.
You hand him the order form you usually give your baker to relay to Jihoon’s girlfriend. While he steps out to ask for a miracle you focus on tallying how many cups, napkins, lids, and other miscellaneous items you need from the supply store across town. A few lone tears appear, falling without much preamble but the worst is out and stained on Soonyoung’s shoulder. You’ll get through it. With Soonyoung’s help you’ll get past everything, even if his efforts fall flat.
Seungcheol and Seungkwan confirm they’ve got things under control as you take your leave. Soonyoung is just visible in the dissipating morning fog hanging in the street. He paces the sidewalk, speaking into his phone animatedly before spotting you trying to sneak past him to your car.
“Thank you! You’re the best!” He cheers before hanging up and pocketing his phone.
“So?”
“They’ll do it! One of the other shops dropped out last minute and they have a lot of extras. Maybe not all the usual stuff but Rita said she can pull together most of the stuff on the form.”
Body frozen, you stare at Soonyoung with an open mouth and eyes wide. There’s no way he solved half your workload with one phone call.
“She also said they can try and work you into their usual orders. If that’s something you’re interested in…” Soonyoung trails off, glancing at you nervously.
In a blink your back in his arms, squeezing him so hard your arms hurt.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You chant into his chest.
“Of course.”
Stepping back, you blush at your own impulsiveness.
“Um, well…” you fumble, clearing your throat you get back to the task at hand. “I need to run to the store so I’ll see you later.”
“I can come!”
“No! I mean, you’ve already helped so much. I’d feel bad dragging you along.”
“Don’t worry about me, I'm just trying to make sure you don’t start crying again and cause an accident.”
“Okay, rude.”
Soonyoung ignores you, already strutting down the street.
“Your cars this way, right?”
“No.”
“Listen, I wanna come with you. I have nothing else to do today.”
“Cool,” You laugh, continuing the opposite direction Soonyoung headed. “but my car is still this way.”
The drive is pleasant. You learn more about Soonyoung in the thirty minutes it takes to get across town than you’ve learned in the weeks he’s been coming to the cafe. He has an older sister, he likes to volunteer at the youth center down the street in his time off, and he cannot work a computer if his life depends on it. You also learn more about his coworker turned best friend who also happens to be the boyfriend of your new god.
“Yeah Jihoon and I started the same day. He comes off kinda cold but it's all an act.”
“Oh, really?” You laugh, pulling into a cramped parking spot.
“One hundred percent. You should see him with Rita. I never saw him blush that much until they started dating.”
“How’d they meet?”
“Funny story.” Soonyoung shares, climbing out of the passenger seat. “So the bakery she worked at before had a fire. No one was hurt and they put it out before we even got there! But we went to make sure everything was clear. Well, Rita was there and I swear it was love at first sight for him.”
“That’s sweet.”
You both make your way inside the sliding doors; Soonyoung pushing a flat cart behind you through the aisles.
“He’s definitely mellowed out since he met her. Doesn’t work as much, thank god.”
“What about your girlfriend? Do you guys have the same Hallmark meet cute?”
“Oh! I don’t have a girlfriend.” Soonyoung mumbles, ears turning scarlett.
Your face heats as well. Whatever force compelled you to ask such a prying question revels in satisfaction to hear Soonyoung is in fact single. A tidbit of information you’ve never wondered about before.
“Sorry I couldn’t get you anything for today.” Rita says as she helps unpack everything onto the counter.
The cafe is scarce of customers, far past closing time but Rita said they’d be too busy delivering to their other customers in the morning to spare a trip to you. What's another Tuesday at the shop? It isn't like you have time for much of a social life given the million things you need to do.
“Really don’t worry about it. You're saving my life by getting me this stuff for tomorrow.”
“Well Soonyoung made a bargain I couldn’t refuse.”
You pause for a moment. Soonyoung didn't mention anything beyond the payment Rita quoted and later sent via email. Did he promise something from the shop on your behalf?
Swallowing the budding annoyance, you continue to work like nothing is wrong. “Oh?”
“I mean an entire month of covering Jihoon’s shifts? What kind of person passes that up?”
What?
Soonyoung offered to sacrifice all his free time to help you. Soonyoung who you barely know beyond the fact that he pretends to like black coffee. The man chews with his mouth open. Soonyoung who let you ruin his sweater with tears and snot from a horrible day.
“You didn’t know?” Rita asks, face full of mirth.
“Ugh, no,” you cough. “He didn’t tell me that.”
“I was shocked when he offered. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”
But he did it for you.
“Yeah.”
“Y/N?”
You find Rita smiling like she knows some big secret. If you had to guess, it's probably the same thing you're realizing now.
“Soonyoung’s a great guy.”
Words fail you because you know Soonyoung is a great guy. He held you when you cried, he comes in everyday without fail to turn off the alarm, and he just sacrificed a month of his life because it would help you.
Once you and Rita unpack the remaining cookies and cakes, she takes her leave but not before dropping another wink when she spots Soonyoung approaching from the direction of the fire house.
“Rita.” he greets at the door, holding it open for her exit.
“Hosh.”
And she’s gone without another word.
“How’s it going?” Soonyoung asks, rounding the counter to join you.
“Great!” You blurt with too much enthusiasm. “Rita ended up making everything we needed.”
A second set of hands assists in packing the glass display case in preparation for tomorrow's chaos. Soonyoung listens well. Patient to a T as you direct him to tweak things just so from the opposite side of the bar.
“Thank you for all your help this week. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to help.”
He continues to unpack the few remaining goods beneath the counter as he responds. “It’s not a big deal. What are friends for?”
“Hmm and you agree to cover all of Jihoon’s shifts for your friends?”
Leaning back against the opposite counter, you watch Soonyoung’s shoulder tense and his ears erupt into bright red. He’s so still he doesn’t even seem to be breathing at the shock of being caught. Each passing second heightens the smirk curling your lips.
“Oh, you heard about that?” He asks into the counter.
You saddle up beside him, dropping your head until his eyes meet your own. Each inch of space you claim next to him sends him away like an opposing magnet; until your sandwich between him and the hardwood.
“Yeah, I heard.”
Soonyoung backs away nervously but not before you catch the way his eyes cut to your mouth. Who knew all it took is a smile and batting your eyelashes to make chatty Soonyoung clam up? The shyness bubbling on the edge of your conscious fizzles with the new knowledge; instead, curiosity takes its place. How much more can you make him blush? What would he do if you grabbed his hand? Or if you took a chance and kissed him?
“Soonyoung?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a crush on me?” You smile around each word.
He opens his mouth to argue but it's moot with the way you gaze at him, eyes shining with mirth. Like you're laughing at some shared joke. Soonyoung will tell you whatever truths you want to hear if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.
“Yeah.” Soonyoung whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him.
“Good.”
You step into his space with finality, chests brushing with each breath.
“Good?”
The edge of your teeth pinning your lip down is the only thing preventing a smile from ripping across your face as you answer. “Because I have a crush on you too.”
“Oh…” He nods, head dropping dejectedly and then it hits him and whips back up so fast his eyeballs rattle. “OH. You do?”
He watches you nod, slowly angling himself to connect your lips. When Soonyoung realizes you aren’t going to push him away, evident by the hand fisted in his sweater, he goes for it.
The curve of your lip, the breathy sigh you release into his mouth, the way you seem to go boneless with each pass are all committed to his memory. Soonyoung reminds himself to be good. That this is the first time he’s kissing you and he should be a gentleman; gentle, chaste, respectful.
And he would succeed but you’re acting like you have no interest in any of those things. You whisper another heavenly sigh into his mouth, trailing a hand in the short strands of hair at the base of his skull forcing Soonyoung to focus on batting away the demons at the edge of his mind rather than giving into temptation.
But when you tug to angle his head better the delicious sting drowns Soonyoung so quickly he has you pinned to the counter before he realizes what's happening.
Sometime later, when your lips are swollen and the floor sways beneath you from the flood of giddiness coursing through your veins, you and Soonyoung part. The crisp air of the late night tries in vain to nip at your face but you’re too distracted by the calluses on the side of Soonyoung’s thumb and the way they rasp against your knuckles as he walks you to your car.
The cafe is in full swing by the time Soonyoung comes in Wednesday morning.
All morning he paced across the cramped common room of the fire station. Sure you let him kiss you but what did it all mean? He knows you like him but did you like like him or just like him? Should he have asked you on a date? Would that be too forward? Did he mess things up by not immediately asking you out despite the fact he was so love drunk he ran into a pole after watching you drive off?
He fights the idea of running across the street and demanding answers. You’re definitely too busy to spare a second and tame the butterflies in his stomach. And how pathetic would he look if he asked you to explicitly dictate how you feel so no wires end up cross? And on Valentine’s day no less?
Luckily, he’s saved by the bell. Or rather the fire alarm.
He watches you work like a tornado, pausing only to smile at him the same way you did last night when he did not so safe for work things against the very counter lined with coffee cups and steaming mugs. Flashes of memory heat across his face.
You thank him with his usual coffee and one of the cupcakes you set aside just for him. Except this time his paper cup is scribbled with a heart and something else.
Be my Valentine? _Yes _ Also Yes _ YES BUT LOUD
At some point he should tell you about the sensitivity setting on the alarm and how all you need to do is nudge the tiny lever to the right if you don't want it going off every time the steam builds up. But the way you beam at him when he steals the sharpie from behind your ear and checks all three boxes on the cup makes Soonyoung decide it’s a secret he’ll keep for now.
@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
#svthub#svthub.collab#kvanity#kwon soonyoung#hoshi#kwon soonyoung fluff#hoshi fluff#seventeen fluff#seventeen fanfic#svt x reader#soonyoung x reader#hoshi x reader#svt#svt fluff#seventeen#🫡 highvern
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Here and Now (Husband!Ghost x Wife!Reader)
Pairing: Husband!Ghost x Wife!Reader (Papa!Ghost AU)
Category: Fluff and Smut (18+)
Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Swearing, Slight Roleplay, Implications/Mentions of BDSM, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie
Word Count: 5k+
Summary: Simon surprises you on Mother’s Day. 😊
Author’s Note: Happy Mother's Day! 🌸 Lily is almost three in this fic while Tommy is ten months old. (BF/N) = “Best Friend’s Name”. I hope you all enjoy!
“HAPPY MAMA’S DAY!”
Lily’s small, sweet voice drew you out of your sleep. You fluttered your eyes open, smiling at the sight before you. Lily was carrying a plate of scones to your bedside, Simon trailing behind her with Tommy in his arms. You yawned and stretched, your legs shifting beneath the covers. You beamed as Lily tried to balance the plate in her small hands.
“Is this for me?” you smiled. She nodded and raised the plate above her head, the scones nearly sliding off. You placed a hand over your heart before you took the plate from her.
“I helped Dada make them!” she chirped. You set the plate on your lap before taking a bite. The dough was still warm and fluffy, the buttery goodness melting over your tongue. You hummed as you chewed it. Tommy gurgled in Simon’s arm as he reached his chubby hands for you.
“That was so good!” you sang. Lily squealed and clapped her hands. Simon stepped forward and laid a kiss on your lips. Tommy softly cried out for you, his hands still reaching out.
“Aw, Tommy,” you cooed. Simon bounced your son in his arms before resting him next to you. His rosy cheek squished against your arm as he tried to balance himself. You smiled and brushed the tuft of brown hair on his head. He gurgled as you helped him sit up, staring at you with his papa’s dark eyes.
“Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart,” Simon beamed. You grinned and pecked his lips again. Lily began to reach for your scones. Simon chuckled, giving her a raised brow.
“You hungry too, Lil?” he asked. She flicked her hand away, hiding it behind her back while her eyes grew wide.
“Uh-huh,” she nodded. Your husband grinned before scooping her up into his arms.
“Let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast, yeah?” he hummed. She raised her hands.
“Yay!” she cheered. You giggled. Tommy latched his mouth onto your arm, slobbering over your skin. Simon looked over to you.
“Want me to take him, too?” he asked. You looked down at the babe, his eyes sparkling as he gazed up at you in wonder. You shook your head, keeping your hand on Tommy’s back.
“Actually, I was thinking all of us could have breakfast in bed?” you suggested. Lily gasped.
“Bed! Bed!” she squealed loudly. Simon laughed.
“Well, you heard her. Let’s get our grub, Lil,” he chuckled as he rubbed noses with your daughter’s. She giggled as he carried her out.
“Bye, Mama! Be back soon!” she called, waving her hand as Simon went down the hall. You waved back before turning to your breakfast. You let your back rest against the headboard as you slowly chewed on your sweet-savory food. Your eyes flicked over to a card resting on your nightstand. Curious, you slid the card between your hands.
(Y/N)
You heard your husband’s lumbering footsteps grow louder as he walked in through the door. Lily jumped up into your bed, picking up Tommy and setting him in her lap.
“Do you want me to open this now?” you asked Simon. He shrugged before giving Lily her plate. She happily began to eat her scones, doing a little dance as she chewed.
“It’s up to you,” he said, taking his seat on the other side of the bed. You looked back down and tore open the envelope. Lily watched you curiously, Tommy drooled over his chin as he played with your blanket. You smiled at the dandelions that were pressed inside of the card. Lily’s eyes lit up as you took them out.
“I picked them, Mama!” she exclaimed. You smiled and brought them up to your nose, smelling the squished golden flowers.
“They’re very pretty! Thank you Lily,” you beamed. Your daughter smiled before squeezing you with her small arms. You kissed the top of her head, squeezing her back. Tommy huffed, annoyed with being squished by his big sister.
“Sorry, bubba,” Lily said before kissing Tommy’s cheek. He cooed softly, as Lily pulled him into her arms. You grinned and went back to the card, reading the message:
Dear (Y/N),
Happy Mother’s Day! You are such a brave, kind, and incredible woman. I’m so thankful to have you as my beautiful wife and the amazing mother of our children (who get their good looks from you, by the way).
You rolled your eyes at Simon. He chuckled, knowing exactly which sentence you just read.
I love you so much. I can’t wait to see the new memories we’ll make in the years to come.
Love,
Simon
P.S. Make sure you dress up for tonight. I have a surprise for you.
You raised your brows.
“A surprise?” you asked, tilting your head. Simon nodded, taking a bite of his scone. “Do I at least get a hint?” you giggled. He shook his head and swallowed.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he drawled.
***
“Thanks again for watching the kids, (BF/N)!” you called from the front door. Your best friend smiled as they sat at the table painting pictures with Lily. Tommy gurgled in his high chair, banging on it with his tiny fist.
“No problem. Have a good time you two!” they replied. You grinned before a sudden thud drew your attention down the hall. Simon was wearing his skull balaclava, the tattered, grim mask a sharp contrast to the crisp suit he wore. His phone suddenly fell on the floor as his eyes raked over you.
“Like what you see?” you purred, striking a pose. He dipped down and grabbed his phone, his eyes still on you all the while. His pupils were blown as he quickly came closer, his shadow overcasting you.
“You look gorgeous, darling,” he breathed, taking your hand and pressing it to where his lips would be. You chuckled and caressed his cheek.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Casanova,” you winked.
“Love you, Mama! Love you, Dada!” Lily yelled from the kitchen, waving her paintbrush in the air. You smiled and waved back.
“I love you too, baby!” you grinned.
“Love you, sweetpea. Be good for (BF/N), okay?” he asked. She nodded.
“Okay, Dada!” she chirped. Lily danced in her chair as she went back to her painting. Your husband turned back to you.
“Ready to go, Mrs. Riley?” Simon hummed while hooking his arm around your own. You smiled and pecked his cheek.
“Whenever you are, Mr. Riley,” you smiled. He waved to your friend before stepping through the door, walking you to the car. You smiled as he opened your door for you.
“Why thank you kind sir,” you replied with an exaggerated tone. You gasped as his hand slipped to your backside as you slid inside. “A little handsy, are we?” you mused. Simon simply shrugged.
“Not my fault you have such a cute arse,” he stated. You rolled your eyes as he closed the door.
Your heart fluttered with excitement on the drive over. It’s felt like forever since you’ve had a date that wasn’t just dinner at your table or a movie night in the living room. Your eyes trailed down to Simon’s free hand resting in his lap. You smiled as you slid your hand into his, your wedding ring reflecting off of the lights as he turned onto the motorway.
“Seriously, where are you taking me?” you asked. His eyes remained trained on the road as he squeezed your hand.
“Afraid that’s classified,” he droned. You sighed. Your shoulders raised as an idea popped into your head.
“What would happen if the information got leaked, hm?” you inquired, your index finger poking out to trace circles on his thigh. Simon’s fingers clenched on the steering wheel as his foot pressed slightly harder on the gas pedal.
“You’d be charged with insubordination,” he replied with a crack in his composure. His Adam's Apple bobbed in his throat as you continued to motion your digit across his dark slacks. You leaned over, your seatbelt tugging on you as you pressed your lips close to his ear.
“And what would be the necessary disciplinary actions, Lieutenant?” you whispered. You could see his resolve begin to crumble as you unlatched your hand from his grip, tracing your fingers over the top of his belt. You knew calling him by his rank or call sign was a quick way to get him riled up. Your husband cleared his throat.
“I can think of a few ways to deal with a disobedient soldier like yourself,” Simon responded, a dark shadow reflecting in his eyes. Your throat hitched as he trailed his fingers up your arm, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “One, I could have you bound and gagged,” he rumbled, his hand sliding down to your hand, tracing over your wrist. You bit your lip, your legs squeezing tightly together. His hand came and rested on top of your thigh, his fingers splayed across the bottom hem of your dress. “Two, I could search you…if there’s probable cause,” Simon murmured. His gravelly voice sent shivers down your spine as his fingers bunched up your dress. You shifted in your seat, face flush with a dark merlot as he exposed your upper thigh.
“A-And three?” you swallowed, eyes blown with lust. Your mouth went agape as the pads of his fingers brushed the inside of your plush thigh. His dark eyes glanced over at your desperate expression before flicking back to the road.
“Corporal punishment,” Simon grunted as he roughly squeezed your thigh. Your teeth captured your bottom lip, tightly encasing it at the pressure that grew between your legs. The pads of his fingers dug in deeply as he emitted a smooth groan. You moaned quietly, your core beginning to feel wetter the longer he touched you. Your eyes were lidded and mouth watering as he released his grip. You sighed as he rubbed the red marks before slipping his hand back to the wheel. His expression remained a mystery behind his menacing mask as he continued driving. Your chest heaved, his marks still sending a dull pain that melted into a pleasure that leaked into your heat. You wiggled your hips, leaving your dress still hiked up as you eyed him.
“Almost there,” Simon stated as he made a right turn. He peered over at you again, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking down to the beginning of a tent in his slacks.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me...Ghost?” you drawled, your hand cupping the inside of his thigh. You heard his jaw click, his fingers drumming across the steering wheel as he made another turn.
"(Y/N)..." Simon warned, his eyes locked onto you briefly. You gave his a coquettish smirk, hand hovering above his clothed cock. You yelped as he came to a sudden stop. Your brows furrowed as he chuckled, proceeding forward on the road.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Can't just blow through a stop sign," he shrugged. You pouted, then wiggled your hips ever so slightly.
"I'll show you what I can blow through," you muttered.
"What was that?" he mused, You opened your mouth, only to gasp when something caught your attention. Twinkling lights brightened your vision as you drove closer to a rather elegant looking hotel. A valet waved and came around while Simon put the car into park. You hid a laugh when the man’s friendly expression quickly became hesitant when your husband stepped out of the car.
“G-Good evening, sir,” the valet squeaked. Simon nodded with a grunt. He slid the keys into the valet’s hand before he grabbed a bag from the backseat. He walked around and opened the door for you. His eyes were dark yet warm as he watched you slip out of the car. Your heels clicked on the pavement as Simon helped you up. You looked up in disbelief at the intricate detail of the building. A large, crystal chandelier hung in the foyer as you two made your way inside, your arm wrapped around Simon’s. He chuckled at your bewildered expression.
“Happy Mother’s Day, love,” he said before pressing his masked lips to your temple. The receptionist, a brunette woman, smiled widely as the both of you approached.
“Good evening! Welcome to the Tour de Marbre!” she chirped, unphased by Simon’s appearance. You were still gaping at the decorations, watching as lobby boys and guests passed by.
“Evening. Reservation for Riley,” your husband stated matter-of-factly. She nodded before turning to her computer. She looked back up, her bright, blue eyes lit up when she saw you.
“That dress is absolutely lovely,” she complimented as she typed away. You grinned bashfully, shifting where you stood.
“Thank you,” you replied, your heels echoing along the polished marble floors. You looked up at Simon, wishing you could rip off his mask and kissing him deeply right then and there. His brown eyes met with yours as he squeezed your arm.
“You didn’t have to do this…this place looks so expensive,” you whispered worriedly. Simon tilted his head before leaning down to your ear.
“For you, my dear, it’s worth it,” your husband murmured back. Your heart nearly burst, warmth flooding into every corner of your chest. Just as you opened your mouth, the receptionist made a triumphant sound.
“All set!” the receptionist beamed as she slid two room keys to him. “You’ll be staying in Suite 808,” she hummed.
“Thank you,” Simon said. She nodded.
“Enjoy your stay!” she sang. You smiled, almost telling her the same thing before quickly sealing your lips. Both of you were quiet as you made your way up the elevator. The small enclosure smelled crisp as the doors closed gently. You immediately jumped up, not caring about any passerby who could walk in as you tackled him. He puffed out a quiet laugh as you kissed the sides of his mask repeatedly. “I take it you like your surprise?” he asked. Your grin was so wide, you thought the corners of your lips would have reached your ears.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” you breathed out. Simon smiled, holding you close as the elevator dinged.
“Of course, love. Anything for my lady,” he grinned. Your eyes scanned the hallway that was adorned with beautiful, dim lighting as you made your way to your room. Simon’s footsteps were nearly thunderous compared to yours as you moved through the labyrinth of rooms.
“Here we are,” he smiled. He tapped his card on the lock and the door clicked. You went to step inside, yet he kept a hand out. You knitted your brows.
“Hold on,” Simon said. You cocked your head as he slipped inside. He came back out, the bag removed from his shoulder. You released a small laugh when he showed you a silky cloth in his hand.
“Were you not kidding about the punishments you mentioned earlier?” you teased. Simon chuckled, though you didn’t miss the pink that filled his cheeks. He spun his finger in a circle. You sighed as you turned around, making sure to jut your hip out. You could practically feel him shake his head as he wrapped the fabric around you.
“You’re a little minx,” he muttered. You smirked, rubbing your ass against his crotch ever so slightly just to prove his point. Simon’s large hand gripped your waist. “Careful, love. Someone could see us,” he warned with a low growl. You tilted your head back, lips curled into a smirk. A low rumbling noise rose from his throat. “Such a naughty wife I’ve got on my hands. Maybe I should combine those punishments,” he rumbled while leading you inside, his hand sliding down to cup your ass.
Your heartbeat pounded percussively with each step you took. The scent of vanilla and rosewater immediately floods your senses, drawing you into a state of relaxation. Your body lurched forward slightly when Simon suddenly stops you.
"Let’s take our shoes off real quick,” he said. You nodded, hearing his dress shoes thud against the floor before he helped you out of your heels. You sighed when the cool air hit them, stretching your toes out.
“Alright. Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart,” he softly commanded. You nodded, biting your lip as he undid the knot. After the fabric fell, he stepped back. “Okay, you can open them now,” Simon said. You blinked a few times, your eyes adjusting to the shift of lighting. You nearly fell back into the wall. Before you was a plush bed sparingly covered in rose petals. Candles were lit on the nightstands, their soft glow the only light pouring across the merlot-colored room. You slowly turned to your husband, mouth agape. His mask was off now, resting on the dresser. He smiled with his hands tucked in his pockets.
“How…when?” was all you could mutter. He shrugged.
“I might’ve had a little help,” Simon said as he squished two of his fingers together. You crossed your arms.
“Johnny helped you, didn’t he?” you asked. His shoulders tensed.
“Maybe,” he replied curtly. You laughed before wrapping your arms around him.
“I love it. Thank you, babe,” you smiled. He grinned down at you, tilting his head so he could capture your lips in a deep kiss. You sighed and closed your eyes, soaking in his warm presence before his own arms circled around your form. Your heart raced as Simon pulled back, his eyes beaming as they raked up and down your body.
“What?” you giggled. His hands snaked down and grabbed at your ass. You squeaked as they moved beneath your thighs. Simon grunted as he carried you over to the bed, laying you down on the end. Your legs were draped over the rose-scented comforter as he hungrily kissed up the side of your face. You sighed blissfully when he took the shell of your ear in between his teeth.
“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” Simon breathed. You shivered, a wave of arousal shooting down your spine and straight into your empty cunt. You bit your lip as he hovered above you, his eyes staring deeply into yours.
“Si,” you cooed. He smiled before kissing down your jaw and suckling where it met with your neck. Your legs spread on their own as you arched your back.
“Such a sweet wife, you are,” he muttered, his hands wandering from your shoulders to gently rub over your breasts. You squirmed beneath him and yelped when he flipped you over, exposing your back to him. You felt Simon’s strong thighs cage around your waist as he sighed, his fingers gripping the zipper. You swallowed and turned your head to the side, watching him with enlarged pupils. Simon purred as he slowly undid your zipper. He leaned over, lips dancing over the shell of your ear.
“Let me take care of you tonight, love,” your husband hushed. You wiggled beneath him as he finished with your zipper.
“Please,” you begged softly, body burning like a raging fire. You heard him make a noise of approval as he spread your loose dress around your shoulders. Your mind was in a haze, thoughts scattered as he peeled your dress down. He shifted above you and tossed it aside. His chest rose and fell as he stared at your nearly naked form, how your bra and panties perfectly hugged all of your curves. Simon looked at you like you were the most delicious, succulent dessert: and all for him to indulge.
“Everything about you drives me wild,” Simon purred, his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra. You shifted your thighs together as heat rose to your cheeks. He groaned when he flung the bra elsewhere, his fingers dipping down and tracing over the curve of your spine. You shook, the feather-light touch making your pussy start to flood with arousal.
“Every curve,” his teeth nipped down your spine, making you shiver. “Every scar,” his hands splayed over your hips, rubbing the flesh in circles. You gasped as he pulled your panties down, a wet string of arousal clinging between your folds and the fabric. He groaned, his lips coming even further down, kissing over the globes of your ass before stopping just above your cunt. “Every stretch mark…everything makes me want to fuck you right into this mattress,” his hot breath fanned over your lower lips.
“Simon, please,” you gasped out. Your husband grunted before he grabbed your waist and slowly turned you back around. Your heart nearly ruptured in your chest when he eagerly spread your legs farther apart, mouth nipping at the stretch marks that adorned the inside of your thighs. He eyed you, silently asking for approval. You nodded, thrusting your hips towards his parted lips. "Please, baby-I want to feel you so badly," you whined. He growled before licking his lips, his hands splayed on the inside of your legs.
"Finally, been wanting to get a taste of your perfect pussy," he rumbled. You shuddered as he leaned down, pressing light kisses over your clit. You squealed as his lips puckered around your nub, applying just the right amount of pressure for your core to ignite.
"Oh God," you choked. A wave of bliss rolled over you just like how you rolled your hips on his broad chin. He smacked his lips before slipping his tongue out, gently sliding it across your puffy folds. You moaned when he licked a long, languid stripe up your gushing slit, tapping your clit once he reached the top. The tip of his wet muscle repeatedly flicked at your swollen nub, making your thighs clench.
“Simon, baby-feels so good,” you keened while arching your back. Simon groaned as your slick gushed into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your engorged nub. You moaned and rocked your hips at a faster pace, your wetness smearing across his chin. His eyes fluttered closed, his face mirroring that of a man devouring the most savory cuisine. You cried his name when he nibbled on your clit, capturing it between his teeth.
"You taste so sweet, doll,” Simon rumbled before diving back in. He pressed a full, open mouth kiss over your cunt, moaning as the full, heady taste of you spilled onto his tongue. You mewled, your breasts jiggling with each uneven breath you took. He shook his head side to side. You could feel heat begin to bubble up in your lower belly when his fingers came down and spread open your labia. His eyes glowed at the sight of your dripping, puckering hole. Your entire body shook as his tongue lashed at your aching pussy. Your hands came down and clung at his locks, bunching them in between your fingers.
He kept your lower lips spread open with his thick fingers as he painted an array of wet, sloppy ‘I-LOVE-YOU’S’ over your soaked cunt. You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head when he audibly slurped some of your arousal into his parched mouth.
“Si,” you cooed, your body shivering as you careened closer and closer to the precipice of your orgasm. He hummed into your pussy before spreading your entrance open with his wet muscle. You cried and shook around him as he thrusted his tongue in and out of your walls, hungrily lapping at your juices. “‘M gonna cum!” you slurred, arms now squeezing the sides of his head. Simon only sped up at your words, his tongue lashing into your shivering cunny. The whole room spun as you felt your walls constrict around his tongue before your hips snapped up.
“SIMON!” you wailed, legs shaking as you came into his mouth. He greedily ate your nectar, drawing out all you had to offer him while you rode out your high on his face. His nose bumped into your clit, sending waves of overstimulation crashing over you as you cooed and babbled, mind completely drunk with ecstasy. You whimpered when your love pulled his face back. Your eyes widened at the sight of his lower face completely drenched in your juices.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how messy I was-” you blushed. You moaned when he took the slick off with his fingers and dipped them into his mouth. He hummed as he slipped them out slowly.
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. What you call a mess, I call dessert,” he sighed before licking his lips. Lava coursed through your veins and spilled into your dripping cunt. You watched he slid off the bed, quickly stripping himself of his crisp outfit. You bit your lip as he unbuckled his belt, his pants and boxers falling to the floor not long after. Your eyes raked over his sculpted body, landing on his cock raised to the dimly lit ceiling. Simon gave you a wry grin as crawled over top of you. He leaned his face down.
“Gonna go slow this time. That alright?” Simon asked as he crawled back on top of you. You nodded your head. His hand came up to grip your chin, his fingers and thumb squeezing your cheeks. “Use your words, hun,” he said.
“Y-Yes,” you mewled, your hands coming up to grip his scarred upper back. Your husband groaned as he kissed you deeply, setting his length down over your folds. It was burning. Simon nodded, locking his lips with yours he grinded his hips into yours. You gasped, fingers clenching deeper into his shoulders with each delicate stroke of his dick. You whined when he slowed to a stop, only to feel your mouth swell with drool as he guided the tip of his throbbing cock to your weeping entrance.
"You ready, baby?" he asked. You shifted your hips upwards, his cock threatening to slip past your tight hole.
"Fuck me...please," you begged. His dark eyes lit up with a hungry gaze.
"Yes ma'am," he chuckled. He sucked in a sharp breath as he pushed himself inside of you. Your fingers curved into his back as his bulbous tip pressed into your walls, spreading your cunt wide open. “Fuck-you feel so good, baby,” Simon groaned as he reached farther into your heat. Both of you gasped as he bottomed out, his full balls lightly tapping against your ass.
“Simon,” you keened below him, gripping onto his back for dear life. His lips immediately found yours, his kiss only igniting the heat that spread across your body.
“What’s wrong, lovie?” he asked with furrowed brows. You shook your head, lips curved into a smile.
“Y-You just feel so good-filling me up,” you gasped as you felt his cock throb against your cervix. Simon groaned before stealing a heated kiss from you.
“Fucking hell,” he grunted when he parted from you. You playfully took his bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it gently. A deep rumble erupted from his throat as he began to pull his cock out. You felt your skin tingle from head to toe as he rocked his hips into you at a slow, tender pace. The vanilla and rose-scented room began to mix with the smell of sex as Simon raised your legs slightly, spreading them further with his leviathan grip. “So perfect, so good to me,” he growled as he began to pump into your pussy more deeply.
His cock stroked your gummy walls so deliciously, hitting the right spots every time. You keened and threw your head back as he pounded up into your g-spot, euphoria bursting from your core. Your sex squelched lewdly with every single hearty thrust, your slick from earlier gushing from where his cock was pistoning into you.
“Love you, Si. Love you so much,” you keened. Simon’s eyes snapped open, his pace relentless as he dove down to hungrily kiss your lips. You felt him fall towards you, spreading your legs farther up, causing him to sink even further into your clenching walls.
“I love you too, sweetheart. Love you-” his words were cut off when your walls spasmed around him, hugging his cock in a vice. Simon continued to pump his cock into you, helping you ride out your second orgasm. “That’s it, that’s my girl,” he cooed as you writhed below him, jaw slack as your body trembled with a warm ecstasy. You felt so heavy and light at the same time as your high began to fizzle out. The sound of your wet sex being relentlessly fucked would’ve made you blush had you not been swimming in a pool of bliss.
“Gonna cum soon, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” your husband asked, his head kissing your cervix with every snap of his hips. You moaned, his words seeming distant in your euphoria-clouded mind.
“I-Inside,” you slurred, your face painted with a deep crimson. He nodded before going into overdrive, pistoning his hips into you with a feral hunger. Simon growled when his whole body tensed, cock twitching inside your plush walls as he released rope after rope of his thick cum. He thrusted into you a few more times before slowly pulling out, his cock softening. He dramatically collapsed next to you, his lips quickly finding your cheek as he enveloped you in a bear hug. Both of you remained quiet, the only sounds in the room being both of you gasping for air.
“That was, that was incredible,” you smiled. Simon mirrored your expression, his eyes twinkling as he rocked you in his arms.
“Maybe we should do this every once in a while,” Simon said. You turned to face him.
“Have sex?” you teased. He chuckled and shook his head.
“You know I can’t resist you for that long, love,” he mused before pinching your asscheek. You scoffed and slapped him playfully. “No, I mean getting a hotel room and having the night to ourselves,” he stated. You hummed.
“That sounds lovely,” you sighed. He smiled, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “But…” you began. You were pleased when you emitted a gasp from him, guiding him to rest on his back before you straddled his hips. His brows shot up when you rubbed your soaked folds over his flaccid cock, a concoction of your slick and his cum smearing across his length. “Why don’t we focus on the here and now?” you asked coquettishly with a slow roll of your hips. His hands wandered up to your hips, his cock throbbing beneath your lewd ministrations.
“I like the way you think, Mrs. Riley,” Simon murmured with a wry grin.
____
Thank you for reading! ❤️
#papa ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty modern warfare 2#smut#fluff#ghost smut#ghost fluff#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#ghost simon riley#wife reader#cod x female reader#female reader#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty#simon riley smut#simon riley fluff#cod fluff#cod smut#cod mwii#cod x reader#cod#simon riley x reader fluff#simon riley x reader smut#simon riley x you fluff#simon riley x you smut
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I loved Summon AU, is it possible that you make more Summon AU?
The aftermath of the summoning leaves the Wayne Manor in a strange sense of foreboding. No one really knows what the Ghost King has done with their list or what it means for them that he has accepted.
Everyone tried to go about their daily lives, attempting to act like they weren't looking over their shoulders. Bruce had nearly broken a blood vessel when he heard about them doing a stupid online trend when they knew magic and gods were real.
They couldn't think of a better excuse for why they did besides "it seemed funny at the time."
Bruce had been so unimpressed with them all that he broke out the big guns.
That night, Alfred grounded them. He really sat everyone- minutes Cass because she had escaped through the window after Danny called- and told them they would not be allowed to use any form of technology unless it was related to their nighttime job.
They would also be given a chore list to complete every day until their punishment was over.
Even though neither Dick or Jason lived at home anymore, they too were grounded and didn't bother to even try to argue with the aging butler. Cass was informed of her own punishment through a text, and she returned about thirty minutes later, ready to face her punishment.
She reorganized everything in storage- and in Wayne Manor, there was a lot in storage- without a single complaint, but she did seem somewhat nervous. And excited?
Like a child waiting to open a present.
That was out of character for Cass, but no one was brave enough to ask her about it. Life before the manor was a taboo topic when it came to Cass.
A week later, her restless behavior finally came to light.
When the doorbell rang, Alfred was just looking over the wood polishing job Tim and Damian had been assigned. Confused- as there were no expected guests and the kids were all still grounded- he approached the door cautiously. Tim was on standby in case things went south.
A young adult, likely barely eighteen, with pretty blue eyes, a vast, charming smile, and a gorgeous winter-themed dress, was on the other side of the door. Their hair is short but styled to have one side longer than the other, framing their face perfectly.
A spinnable circle pin on her dress read Gender Fluid in the unmovable part and "She/Her day" in the spinal part.
"Hi there," She chirps, a dimple on full display. "I'm Danny."
"Good afternoon, Danny. My name is Alfred. How can I help you?"
"I was wondering if Cass was home?" Dany starts surprising Alfred and Tim -who were eavesdropping around the corner- as the girl carefully plays with her hair. "I was hoping to talk to her."
"Miss Casandra is currently not allowed guests." The butler starts slowly. He watches her face fall dramatically before humming. "I can, however, pass along a message to her."
"Oh yeah, that be great. Please let her know Danny was wondering if she would like to go with me to see a ballet tonight. Um if she's allowed to go out."
Tim's eyes widen. A date? Danny had come here in person to ask Cass if she wanted to go on a date? Then had the courage to ask Alfred, to his face, if she could take his grandaughter out?
Who is she? Tim thinks amazed. He wants to text the rest of the group chat, which would invade Cass' privacy. He waits a few minutes until Alfred responds.
"Miss Casandra is currently grounded. Unfortunately, she and her siblings cannot leave until their punishment ends."
Tim winces. Hopefully, Cass being nineteen and still being grounded at her age didn't scare off Danny. Some people didn't understand how much power Alfred's word had over the manor and frankly, those people didn't deserve Cass anyway.
But it would make her sad.
"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for letting me-"
A scream makes everyone jump. Tim whirls around to find Damian pressed against the main stairway. His face has gone three sheets of white, staring at Danny with horror.
"Y-you!"
Danny tilts her head. "Me?"
"Y-you!" Damian gasps and Tim is highly alarmed that his voice is tinted with fear. "Why are you here?!"
"I came to ask Cass if-"
"You will not take Cain from me, Ghost King! I will destroy your core before you try to get near her!" Damian screams, hand suddenly holding a glowing green sword, but his threat doesn't hold much because he is literally shaking in his boots. "You have your summon payment already! You shall leave Cain alone!"
What.
"Oh! You think no, no. I'm not here for her soul or anything. Cass and I go way back when she lived on the streets. " Danny- the ghost king they summoned using a list of their gay awaking apparently- laughs, waving her hands as if to calm the young child. "I liked her for a while but thought she didn't feel the same. Until the summoning, where I saw my name on the list. We talked it out, and I was hoping to take her on a first date, you know?"
"You lie!" Damian races down to point his sword at Danny, looking just as wild as a cornered animal about to fight for its life. "Why would the strongest being in the multiverse live on the streets?!"
"Well....it's not like they pay to rule the dead....I had a rough patch, but Cass helped me get back on my feet." Danny muttered, slightly embarrassed. Then she squits at Damian. "Wait, are you a al Ghul?"
Damian breaks into a sweat as Danny gasps, "You are! You're family owes me so much money in backed up taxes for the healing pool! We cut off contamination maintenance because Ra's refused to pay years ago! Kid, do you know I can get into contact with your family member about the Lazarus pit?"
Damian screamed again, turned around, and ran, leaving a stunned Alfred, Tim and Danny. "Guess not. Anyway, sorry to be a bother Mr. Alfred, I'll come back when Cass can go out. Bye!"
A familiar portal rips under Danny as she falls through with a cheerful wave. Alfred and Tim watch it close in a moment before Tim turns to the butler. "Did I inhale too many polishing chemicals? Am I hallucinating?"
"No, my dear boy, I saw everything as well."
"Oh, good. " Tim pauses. " One of us needs to speak to Damian and Cass."
Alfred closes the door slowly. "I'll find Master Damian. You go for Miss Cassandra and Master Tim?"
"Hmm?"
"The next time, Mister Conner sends you a fun trend to try. Don't."
"Yeah, that's fair."
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#Ghost King summon Dare Au#Cass and Danny know eachother on the streets#The al Ghul be running from the ghost IRS#Danny is gender fluid#Cass bought them the pin#Alfred is so done with his kids#They stress him out
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“Why were you in my lå̵̠ir.”
The figure beneath him stills. “...Jason?”
Jason snarls. He flips the intruder onto his back so that he is face to face with two hundred and twenty five pounds of pissed off crime lord. Instead of cowering away like he expected, the intruder relaxes at the sight of the red helmet.
“Ẅ̶͈h̶̻̓y̶̭̆ ̶̜͛w̶̪̓e̵̙̓r̷̻̿e̴̯͘ ̵͈̇y̵̧͑o̸̫̐ủ̴̙ ̶͙̏i̷͇͆ń̷̗ ̵̼̀m̴̙̑y̶͍͗ ̸̭͝l̵͕͘ą̷͒i̶̩͑r̶̟͌.̴̗̇” Jason repeats, claws digging threateningly into an armored shoulder.
“Jason…” the intruder, nonplussed, grips at the arm pinning his shoulder, “You need to calm down. I don’t speak radio static.”
Jason slams him down into the roof again, growling.
“Ẇ̴̞̥̯̮́͌͆͜H̵͕̮͈̮͆͂̆̕Y̵̜̓̀̆͘ ̵̲̫̘̾̄Ẁ̸̺̣̋E̷̪̩̹̊̀͠R̶͈̙͚͂E̸̻͐̔͊͗̚͜ ̸̗̽̌̿̚Ÿ̸̠̭͒̒̃̎O̸͕͍̳̭͍͊Ǔ̷̮̯̣̫͛ͅ ̷͈̗͠I̵͍̜̙̜̜̿̆͌N̴̗͖͚̓̋̕ ̷̞̅̈́͗͝͝M̷̜̍̐̏Y̸͖̼͎͑̇͘ ̵̱͖͑̌̕L̸̹̬͕͙͖̓Ǎ̷̢͈̣̹̭̈́͘I̴̧̝̫̔̂͌͌̀Ŗ̶̝̆̋̋!̶̰̼̩̼͂̓̃͜”
“Jason, please. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” The smaller vigilante gently squeezes his arm for his attention, “You’re not breathing. I need you to take a deep breath. Please.”
Jason isn’t breathing. Jason doesn’t need to breathe?
“Please, Jason.”
Jason needs to breathe.
#ghost chirps/unintentional ghost adoption au fic#We have almost hit 20000 words woo#dpxdc#writing wip
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Fake Cryptids, Real Ghosts
Ok, so dp x dc/batfam because this AU has me by the throat but what if it's the fake cryptid batfamily AU who never joined the JL.
Just...imagine it. The Batfamily has been protecting Gotham quietly but fiercely by scaring the daylights out of criminals as creatures that go bump in the night. A bit of stage magic, frightening method acting, contortion, a whole language comprised of chirps, growls, and body language, and the best tech possible and you've got a recipe for striking fear into the hearts of everyone.
They've got shrines on the rooftops, vaguely on the JL radar (Cause really, who's gonna believe that Gotham, one of the worst cities has a demon problem? Constantine? Homeboy took one look at Gotham and went Nope.) and they're protected cause any self respecting Gothamite wouldn't go spilling the beans to Outsiders. The Bats keep them safe. Who would believe them anyways?
Enter half dead, half alive Danny Fenton.
Danny Fenton who has a best friend's named Tucker and Sam who find out about the Gotham Cryptids, and go absolutely ham on research because here lies something,a bunch of someone's who are Other. Maybe they're creepy but they're cool and they're Heroes and they help people.
Sure, at first it was an attempt from Sam and Tucker to help their best friend feel less alone in the face of other, more 'normal' heroes and people out there in the world. Maybe they try to further bury the Bats online cause if anyone understands keeping on the down low, it would be Amity Parker's. For awhile, Danny Fenton, sometimes Phantom is simply happy to know he's not alone.
Then he's outed and his sister who's long since been ecto-contaiminated is put at risk there's nowhere that seems safer. Gotham is a chaotic city, even without the Bats factoring in. After all Gotham has (Demons-Spirits-Creatures?) The Bats already. Who would care if a halfa and his sister hide out there? As long as they're respectful of their territory, it'll be fine right? Besides, they've got to warn the Bats anyways about the GIW and government. They're coming after ghosts, who knows if they'll be next? Spooky things have to look out for each other after all.
Cue shenanigans as Phantom who stops hiding all of his creepier traits as a ghost walks up to the Totally Human but Faking it Batman with really thoughtful gifts for all of their shrines (And one fruitcake), no heartbeat and an earnest plea for a safe haven in their Haunt because the Ancients taught him manners and the importance of respecting another entities territory.
#dp x dc#dc#batman#danny fenton#danny phantom#fake cryptid batfam#This has been living rent free in my head for the last week just picture how hysterical it would be#The Batfam in this AU who go about like normal people during the day but are Dramatic Nightmares come nighttime#rook posts stuff#rook writes stuff#kinda#Danny and Jazz being SO RESPECTFUL of the Bats#and while Danny knows they aren't ghosts he never tries to pry because they deserve their secrets#meanwhile in the Batcave Bruce and fam are going nuts because here's a literal dead child asking for a safe haven in Gotham and HOW DOES HE#FILL OUT THE PAPERWORK FOR A DEAD CHILD ALFRED HELP#and when they finally meet Jazz while still being unaware of Danny's Halfa status (He forgot okay? He's used to the ghosts who already Know#cause his sister is alive but we found ancient art depicting Phantom and ok family of choice is a Thing we respect but also what#OR Danny and Jazz try to hide in this AU even from the Bats but honestly all the ideas in my head keep making me snort#fake cryptids real ghosts au
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The Android!Ghost au you’ve talked about is giving « the guy is actually more of a heavily modified human (probably against his will too) than a complete android » and I’m living for this kind of stuff. Please, let’s keep talking about it.
:3c Ghost in the Shell(1995)-core
You've always been more at home with androids than with regular people. They're not as loud, they don't ask prodding questions, you know exactly where you stand with them. They don't care that you'd rather be in your workshop than... wherever normal people go when they're bored. You work on one of the heavy mechs during your lunch break. The bot hands tools up to you while you sit on its shoulder, its huge fingers delicately holding your rivet gun as you try to avoid breaking out the welding machine. It's not looking good.
"It's really stuck on here XG-9," You tell the mech, listening to the click of its cameras as they adjust to the new information.
"I can wait until yearly maintenance, this issue is not impeding my primary motor functions."
You roll your eyes, bots always say that. You know well enough that just because something isn't hurting now, doesn't mean it won't hurt later. Or, impede function later. You have to correct yourself on that. The mech technically doesn't feel anything, its diagnostic picked up a blip and it asked you to fix it. You scratch your head with a sigh and grab the offered hand to swing down.
Ghost is standing there waiting for you when you land. You take a step back, just a hair too close to the android for your own comfort. He cocks his head to the side. You're struck again by how quiet he is. Not just in the silent manner he regards you, but the silence with which his body functions. Androids aren't loud, not unless they're malfunctioning, but you can hear them. It's, well, ghostly. You wonder if that's how he got the nickname.
"What's wrong with 9?" He asks, there's no concern in his voice, why would there be?
"One of his casings is tight, it's compressing a motor," You report, glancing up at the mech. It's busy setting your tools back into their casings, giant hands careful with your pieces.
"His?" Ghost questions, and you hear his cameras click, dialing in to observe you. It's not a secret on base that you have a tendency to personify even the trash-droids. You don't rise to the bait. Ghost turns his attention to the mech instead. "You good 9?"
"Functioning within parameters Lieutenant," The mech chirps. Ghost nods and looks back at you.
"He's fine."
You sigh and go to gather your tools, grab a bite of your sandwich. You assume the lieutenant needs something fixed or he wouldn't be here. Lieutenant. That's unusual. Not unheard of, but definitely rare. Rare enough you don't think you've ever met an android that has the honor of a rank. Not one still in commission at least. You stare at him over your bread, inspecting him for any twitch in her servos.
He's beautiful machinery. Everything about him moves and flows as naturally as flesh and blood should. You've been thinking about what to use for his musculature since you last worked on him. Looked like some sort of aluminum poly... kev-spring... God you don't know, you're grasping at straws. Irreplaceable that's what it is.
"What d'you need?" You ask between bites. Gotta be something, androids don't come looking for you for no reason. They're not curious, they don't wonder how you're doing. They certainly don't stop to watch you work. Curiosity is a human emotion.
"Back plates need to be realigned, you didn't put them back right." He tells you. You nearly choke on your sandwich, thumping your chest and coughing as he stares down at you.
"Excuse me?" You cough in disbelief. Never in all your years as a mechanic have you been accused of such a thing. You glower at Ghost and set your food down. You twirl your finger to have him turn around, he does without complaint, stripping his zip-up off as he does. You don't know why he needs a jacket, not like he gets cold, but you suppose it helps him blend in. Although if he wanted to blend in he could've opted for a more human face plate.
You push his tee up, fingers skimming his synthetic skin, checking the black plated spine for misaligned pieces. Everything feels in order. You grab one of your micro screwdrivers and tap the tiny flat-head against the seams of his spine, testing for gaps. You push his shirt up higher, lean closer to get a better view. This would really be easier if he was sitting- no, laying down. His chest expands and contracts with false breaths, your working theory is exhaust release, but under your hand it feels like life.
You press the button at the top of his spine, watch the plates disengage and pop up. Starting at the bottom you push each one, manually, back into place. There's a small click that lets you know the plate is engaged, and his T5 doesn't click.
You grumble to yourself, and grab your glasses from your tool set along with a pair of needle nose pliers. It's an easy fix, a little fiddly, but you manage to manually hook the latch into place. You make a mental note to order a spare part. The rest of his spine lays down easily, neat clicks that you monitor more closely now that you've had to fix one. When you reach the top you make sure to press the plate on either side of his spine firmly into place before locking up the whole thing. There's a soft hiss, and a release of steam between the panels when you engage the lock.
Ghost rolls his shoulders with a soft groan as you drop his shirt back into place. "Fuck that feels good," He sighs, his modulator sighs. You frown, replacing your tools. It shouldn't feel like anything.
"Yeah?" You ask, human curiosity getting the better of you.
"Like gettin' my back cracked," Ghost hums, he twists at his waist like he's stretching out his muscles. Beautiful machinery, that looks and acts like a beautiful man. You think you understand why he wouldn't want a human face, he'd attract too much attention.
"Glad I could help," You look away from him, back to your tools, "I'll order a new part, should fix the misalignment permanently." You'll keep this fix off the books for now. It's too strange- Ghost is too strange. He almost feels human, but he can't be you've seen his mechanics. He can't be.
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#simon riley cod#simon riley#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#android!ghost#mechanic!reader#cyberpunk au#this is like sex to me#repairs on an android can actually be so personal
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the vow - i
summary: you’re betrothed to the future king of Guilder and a fearsome knight is assigned to protect you. medieval au
knight!simon ‘ghost’ riley x princess!reader
warnings: mdni (18+), age gap, violence, arranged marriage, infidelity
next part masterlist
a/n: @/dinalgo on tiktok posted some hc art of knight!ghost and i’m obsessed, so here’s my interpretation of that except I refuse to write in old English, also points if you catch the references I threw in
The sun shines brightly through the large window, the breeze blowing the trees outside your room, for a small moment, the world is quiet, just the songs of morning birds chirping on the balcony fill your ears, there’s no noise, no worries.
The moment is quickly ruined by the sound of your maids bustling into the room, arms full of clothing and various tools, you turn your gaze to them slowly,
“Princess, good morning”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, please use my name”
“The Prince requests that we refer to you by your title m’lady”
“Well we wouldn’t want to upset him would we” Your tone is sarcastic as you make your way over to the women, one of them fixes your bed while the other prepares a bath, setting out your clothes. You step into the warm water, soothing a rag over your muscles to clean yourself before one of the ladies takes over, dumping water over your head to wash your hair. You sit for a few minutes in the water, allowing them to work around you,
“You’re quiet this morning”
“Mm not much on my mind I’m afraid”
“You’re not excited for the festivities?”
“The feast should be nice, I don’t care much for the rest”
“Don’t talk like that” The older woman scolds, Clarice had known you since birth tending to you as a young girl, always by your side while you grew up in court, more a mother to you than your actual mother. “The Prince is handsome, a worthy adversary”
“Yes handsome, but also rude, stubborn, cold, everything I despise”
“With time you will grow to love him”
“I surely doubt that” You scoff
She furrows her eyebrows at you, “There, now let's get you dressed”
She helps you out of the bath over to the other maid, Beatrice, you had known her for less time, her position assigned to you when you came to the court after your engagement was announced. Your Father was the king of Florin, and you as his only child had the unfortunate position of being in an arranged marriage to the Prince of Guilder, the Monarchs of the country being old and weary, their son was to be crowned before the year ended and he needed a wife. Your countries had been at war for years, the violence only ceasing when your engagement had been announced, you had been in Guilder for a week now, hold up in the castle away from the public eye, today was the day that your engagement would be formally announced, a festival for your sake being held on the castle ground, thousands of people crammed inside the grounds all trying to get a look at you and the Prince, the idea made your stomach turn.
Your early years had been spent wandering the grounds of your families castle, the tall stone walls becoming a home after the years you spent in them, you felt sick for your old life, your freedom, you could run around the gardens, ride the horses whenever you wanted back home, but here, every action of yours was watched, criticized, you were told how to look, where to be and when, every part of your life was in the control of the Prince and your Father, you hated it.
You had gotten dressed, your breaths feeling tight due to the corset you wore, another freedom you yearned for was being able to wear clothing of your choosing, now everything was blue and green, the colours of Guilder, always tight on your chest to emphasize your figure, your hair was done up in a knot, a few loose strands falling to tickle your neck and cheeks.
“Beautiful” Clarice says, a soft smile on her face
“I look like a peacock”
“You do not, you’ve grown into such a beautiful woman, my little princess” Her hand is soft on your cheek, you smile at the tender action, always finding comfort in her. “Now, we must go, you’re needed downstairs”
You struggle to take a deep breath, silently cursing the fabric binding your chest as you make your way through the wide halls, they were lined with various adornments, some tapestries, a few swords hung beside scattered candles, it felt cold here, no comfort in the walls, everything was jagged and silver.
“Now, the Prince will introduce you, then the jousting will begin”
“Is anyone from Florin going to be in the duels?”
“I’m not sure my dear, there’s plenty of men from across the countries”
You nod, looping your arms through hers as you walk side by side, you stand at the large opening that leads out to the balcony above the castle grounds, everything is decorated in the countries colours, it’s so formal, you feel like a stranger in your new home, everything so similar yet so different, you had no family here, no friends aside from Clarice, you give her a soft smile before unhooking your arm, waiting for the Prince to announce you before walking out.
You step out onto the balcony, the warm sun hitting your skin, there’s a symphony of clapping and whistling, you look down at hundreds of people, all staring back at you, you wave to them,
“Sit down” The Prince speaks, you turn to him, his face is stoic, there’s no softness in his features, you abide, sitting down in the tall chair next to him. They begin the jousts, two by two the men file out, setting up on their horses, the Prince turns to you with every new competitor, explaining who they were and where they were from, including his personal opinion on the men.
You see a tall man enter the field, his armour pure black, his horse the same, he’s larger than the rest of the competitors, his helmet shaped like a skull, his chest plate donning an emblem you didn’t recognize.
“Who’s that one”
The Prince leans over the balcony to get a better look, eyes squinting in an effort to make out the symbol,
“I’m not sure, must be some farmboy playing make belief”
You respond with a small oh, the knight approaches the balcony, his hand reaching to remove his helmet, the light hits his face, streaking colours through his blonde hair, you can make out a few scars on his face, even from your distance you can see the deep colour of his eyes, his face is firm staring up at you, you’re frozen in your spot, staring back at him, he raises his lance toward you, without thinking you reach behind you, grabbing a ring of flowers held together by a ribbon, and throwing it onto his lance, it falls to the base, the flowers close enough that he could smell their aroma, he says nothing, not even a nod, he simply puts his helmet back on and moves to mount his horse.
You step back, your eyes stuck on him as you return to your seat,
“What was that?”
“Sorry?”
“You gave him your favour”
“Thought the farmboy could use some luck against Ser Michael”
“Ah, yes” The Prince goes on to ramble about the accomplishments of the opponent, his success in battle, how much he admired his bravery, but you aren’t listening, your focus completely taken by the shadowy knight galloping toward the centre of the pit, his lance raised as he thrusts it into his opponent, throwing him off his horse. The crowd erupts in cheers, you swallow thickly as you watch him get off his horse, moving toward you, he kneels in front of you,
“Simon Riley your highness”
“Where do you hail from Ser?” The Prince stands, your eyes are focused on him as he bows his head
“The North, but I am no Ser”
“You’re not a knight? You wear the armour of a knight”
“The armour belonged to my father”
“And where is he, your father?”
“Dead 10 years ago your highness”
“And tell me, why have you come”
“I come to prove my honour, to serve you”
“Very well, you may go”
You watch a few more rounds of jousting, growing bored with the same thing happening, they announce the final duel before urging the groups to attend the feast, you make your way down from the balcony, towards the high tables in the gardens, your eyes roaming over the groups of people, struggling to find a familiar face in the crowd.
“So what did you think?” The Prince asks
“About what?”
“The jousting” He scoffs
“They were all quite good”
“What about that Simon Riley”
You whip your head towards him, “I thought little of him, why?”
“Well he was rather large don’t you think, I might add him to my guard”
“Add him to mine” You speak before thinking
“Why would I add him to yours”
“I have no guard, no one to protect me”
“Well, I’ll arrange for you to choose a guard tomorrow then, perhaps then you’ll finally feel at ease here”
You nod your head, turning quickly from him, you greet the King and Queen, making small conversation about the state of the castle, the blooming bouquets of blue poppies that adorned the various pillars, your eyes are drawn to Simon, his dark appearance a stark contrast to the brightly dressed patrons that mingle around the grounds, you watch him disappear around a corner, it’s not until the Queen calls your name that you realize you had been staring at him the whole time.
“Sorry your majesty, my brain has been a fuzz all week, what did you ask?”
“That’s alright dear, with all the excitement I can hardly focus myself, I was just wondering if you had decided on a dress for the wedding”
“Oh, not yet, you’ve brought so many beautiful options I haven’t been able to decide”
“I understand, we have the best dressmakers here, but do make time to choose, we wouldn't want to delay such an important decision”
“Of course”
She smiles at you, looping her arm through her husbands as they walk on, you stand there, overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of everything happening around you, you had only a week until you were to be wed and you had every decision already made for you, your fiancee and his mother picking out every detail of the wedding down to what bouquet you’d be carrying, they had decided that you would hold a large grouping of the blue poppies you see everywhere, the royal flower of Guilder, no part of the wedding made notice of your heritage, all traces of Florin erased from the ceremony, you were to be wed according to Guilder law rather than the customs of your home.
They had arranged for your father to attend but no one else, claiming that there simply wasn’t space for extra people to join, they had cut you off from your old life completely, forcing you to conform to their way of life, moulding you into the perfect Queen, obedient and meek, you despised it, you longed for your freedom from the confines of the castle.
When the feast ended and you had spoken to all the nobility you needed to, you were escorted back to your quarters, the silence of the large stone walls consuming you once again, no birds singing, no rushing of maids, just you and the night sky. It was late, the dark consuming the outer land in a blanket of shadows as you stood on your balcony looking over the moonlit gardens, that was the only good thing about your new home, a perfect view of the perfect gardens, every shrub perfectly manicured, bending and winding in a maze that led to a small fountain in the centre, each flower a shade of green and blue. Truth be told you didn’t think much of the colours before moving but now, you despised them, every shade a sharp reminder of how you didn’t belong, the colours mocked you as they invaded your eyesight, you huffed a breath to yourself, eyeing the grounds below for any sign of guards.
There was one roaming the grounds, you thought you could easily avoid detection if you were quick, you grab your robe wrapping yourself in it, a small attempt to keep yourself warm from the cool air of the night as you creep towards your door. They were heavy, large slabs of wood, you open in slowly to avoid any creaks, slipping through the opening and rushing down the hallway, there was a small door meant for staff that you entered, making your way down the thin stairs and peering through the door outside, the guard has his back turned, you inch the door open and slide through, quickly moving towards the gardens. You walk under a large arch of shrubs, the smell of the flowers invading your senses, bushes of wolfsbane, oleander and wisteria fill the gardens, all beautiful but deadly, a worthy metaphor for your new home, you roam the isles of the garden, lost in the hidden openings and similar corners.
After a few minutes, you find yourself in the middle, a tall fountain in front of you, it’s stunning, the intricate details of the stone swirling as the water crashes into the pool, you sit in the grass, listening to the sound, letting it relax you, finally a break from the quiet that wasn’t the screaming of citizens, or the demeaning words of your future mother-in-law. You close your eyes, the grass tickles your skin as you relax, breathing in the fresh air, you hear a small rustle in the grass, breaking you from your state, you turn your ear to the noise, calling out quietly to see if anyone was there. There was no reason for anyone to be in the gardens at this hour, in fact, the Prince practically forbade it, you stand slowly, following the rustling noise, peeking around a corner you see a quick movement turning the corner, moving faster you approach it, your heartbeat heavy as you near, you turn to find the culprit and let out a small gasp, a small white rabbit was sat, chewing on some shrubs, you kneel down extending your hand towards it.
“Come here little guy, these gardens aren’t safe for you” It hops toward you, nearly touching your hand before it turns on its heel and sprints away, you furrow your brows in confusion,
“They aren’t safe for you either Princess”
Your breath stops, you feel the looming figure behind you as you slowly stand, you heartbeat now thrumming in your ears, you turn to face him, he almost melts into the darkness of the garden, his armour pitch black,
“You should get back inside”
Goosebumps cover your skin, your breaths shallow as you stare at him, you back up slowly, turning around to move through the gardens, you turn around the corners, trying to find your way out, your feet carry you through the grass, you follow the lights inside the windows, trying to get out. You rush towards the exit, eyes focused on the light as you collide with the guard, stumbling into him,
“I’m sorry”
“Princess? What are you doing outside?”
“I just needed some air” Your breathes are shaky as he scans your face,
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes, completely, just need to go back inside I think the air was a little too cold”
“Well hurry in then” He nods, stepping aside to let you pass, you move past him hastily, opening the doors inside you make your way back up the stairs, you enter your room and release a breath, rushing towards your balcony to try and catch a glimpse of him. Your eyes scan the gardens, the night doing its job of concealing anything within the green walls, you see nothing, no movement anywhere, it's like he wasn’t even there, you think you imagined him, his deep voice ringing in your ears as you lay in your bed.
The next morning was calm, you woke early to the sound of your maids making their way inside, Clarice helping you dress and doing your hair while Beatrice makes your bed, tidying the room.
“Exciting day today” Clarice says
“What do you mean?”
“The Prince has arranged for you to pick a guard, I suppose he fears a possible war and wants you safe”
You nod at her, “I don’t believe the Prince fears for my safety as much as you do” you whisper, she shushes you, her eyes darting to Beatrice to make sure she didn’t hear, “Bite your tongue child”. You let out a small giggle, amused by how concerned she is, allowing her to finish your hair before you make your way to the throne room, you enter through the massive doors to a room of scattered men, all donning their house armour, you look around and see no sight of the dark knight. You stand atop the small set of stairs, looking down at the men as they announce themselves one by one, giving you their names and listing all their accomplishments, victories in battle, how they were undefeated in jousting in their home. You’re bored after an hour of their bragging, your mind oblivious to the fact that you have to choose one of them to be around you for hours at a time, an older man stands to speak but is interrupted by the sound of the doors opening, everyone turns their heads at the sound, their eyes widening at the sight of the tall man clad in black, he keeps his helmet on as he enters, only removing it to kneel before you.
“Simon Riley m’lady”
“Not Ser?”
“I beg your pardon”
“Everyone else here is a knight, why are you not?”
“I’m the last remaining member of my house m’lady, we’re a forgotten house”
“I expect my guard to be knighted”
“I may not hold a title Princess, but I assure you I would lay my life down for you” He turns his head to look at you as he speaks, and you release a strained breath,
“You may all leave” You address the room, Simon stands, “You stay” You look to him and he nods, the room is consumed in silence as the other men exit, leaving you alone with him, “Why were you in the gardens last night?”
“I needed to clear my head”
“It’s forbidden to be on castle grounds after dark”
“And yet you were there” He looks up to you, you swallow a thick gulp.
“You’ll be assigned to me, keep me safe”
“Thank you, Princess” He bows his head,
“And don’t wear your helmet inside, it’s unnerving”
He fights the smile that creeps up on his lips as you turn away from him, exiting through the back of the room, you make your way to the Prince's quarters, his guards stand outside the door.
“Princess” They greet you
“Hello, I need to speak to the Prince”
They look to each other and back to you, “He’s busy I’m afraid”
“It’s a matter of staff” You try to push past them but they stop you, you furrow your brow at them, one takes a moment, knocking on the door.
“My Prince, the Princess wishes to speak with you” He shouts through the door, you hear shuffling through the door, the Prince mumbling something before he steps to the door, opening it, he’s half-dressed, his hair a mess, you watch him peer backwards, mouthing something and it all clicks in your head, you feel your chest tighten.
“What did you need my love” The name feels like a stab to your chest,
“I’ve chosen my guard, Simon”
“Simon?”
“The black knight from the feast” You watch the gears spin in his mind
“Yes very well” He turns away,
“He needs to be knighted”
He sighs, “He holds no title?”
“Not yet no”
“Fine, inform him that he should be in the throne room by nightfall, I shall do it then”
Before you can respond he closes the door, the shuffling and giggles behind the door resuming, you spare a polite smile to the guards, turning away and making your way to your quarters.
You sit at the small table in your room, your eyes watching through the window as people wander the grounds, you call for Clarice who meets your side in an instant,
“Please inform my guard he is to be in the throne room after dinner”
“Very well Princess” She smiles at you before leaving, you sit quietly in your room, daydreaming about being outside in the fields, exploring the ponds around the castle grounds, being anywhere but here. The time passes quickly, a servant knocks on your door to inform you that dinner was prepared, you make your way down to the dining hall, the air of the room feeling colder as you sit down, dinners were the same, just you, the Prince and the Queen, the King being in poor health was kept in his room, only brought out for special occasions. You sit and eat, picking at the meal in front of you as the two of them discuss wedding preparations like you aren’t there, they don’t ask for your input, deciding on things alone, after a few minutes you stand to excuse yourself,
“You’re done eating?”
You stop in your tracks, “Not particularly hungry this evening”
“Well, I should see you in a few moments in the throne room then,” He says, turning back to his conversation, disregarding you.
You make your way to the large room, the walls high, large windows separating the spaces in them, you stare at the ceiling, it’s ridiculously tall, with large chandeliers hanging from the crossing beams, there are pictures hanging on the wall, you stride past them not bothering to spare them a glance as you hear the doors open, The Prince walks in beside his own guard, Simon trailing behind them, your gaze softens as you look at him, he kneels in front of the Prince, removing his helmet, you’re close enough now that you can properly make out his features, the sharp line of his jaw, the scar that crosses through his eyebrow, and his eyes, dark and rich, his hair falling slightly across his forehead as he bows his head. The Prince declares a few words, taking a sword from his guard and tapping it onto Simon's shoulders, the knight stands to his height, he towers over the Prince, having to look down to meet his eyes, he swears a few words, giving his oath to the Prince before everything is settled. The Prince nods, stepping away and leaving the room, Simon turns to you,
“Ser Simon” You nod
“Princess”
You stand there looking at him, words unable to make their way from your lips, you simply turn and leave, his eyes following you as you exit making your way up to your room, he trails behind you, his helmet under his arm as you reach your door, he stands with his back to the wall, his eyes focusing around the halls as you enter your room. You step in and close the door, your back falling against the hard wood as you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, bracing yourself against the door, you take a few seconds to gather your thoughts before moving further into the room, stripping yourself of your dress to put on more comfortable clothes, feeling like you could properly inhale without the burden of a corset.
You spend an hour alone in your room, pacing around trying to occupy your mind, the pale walls doing little to aid your efforts, you think to yourself for a minute, your legs carry you across the rooms towards your door where you stand for a moment, collecting yourself before opening it,
“Princess, is there a problem?” He asks
You shake your head, you’re entranced by his gaze, “Where is your family Ser?”
“My family?”
“You come here holding no title, no accomplishments, who are you?”
“I’m no one”
“Nobody is no one”
He smiles slightly, his eyes crinkling, “I come from England Princess, my family owned a farm before the war, and now I am here”
“And your family, what of them”
“Dead m’lady”
Your face drops, your heart thumps with empathy, “I apologize for my words, I had no idea”
“How could you have”
“Yes well, how did you come to be in the country?”
“I’m not sure, I left home one day and just kept going until I arrived in the countryside”
“And you chose to stay here?”
“It’s beautiful here”
“It seems that way”
“Seems?”
You stumble over your own words, careful to not give yourself away, “I simply mean it’s not my home”
“You’re not from here”
“No, I come from Florin”
“I have never been”
“Well I hope you get to see it one day, it’s beautiful, tall cliffs with waterfalls, every part of it breathtaking”
He watches you speak with deep interest, hanging on to every word that falls from your lips, “You miss it?”
“More and more every day” You admit
“And you can’t go home”
“Not if I am to be Queen” Your smile fades
He nods, you turn your gaze to him, oblivious to the fact that he’s been staring at you the entire time, his eyes memorizing every feature of your face, every smile line and ridge, you turn from him quickly, nervous under his stare.
“It’s late Princess, you should be in bed”
You turn back to him, a polite smile on your face as you walk back into your room, your hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment, wishing you could keep talking to him. You lay in your bed wide awake, the words exchanged with Simon the first conversation you’d had that didn’t concern the details of your marriage, he was the first person to ask about your feelings, your home, you figured he must’ve just been being polite, too nervous about getting sent away to say anything different to you.
Simon stands guard over your room while you sleep, turning away any guard who tried to take his position, intent on ensuring your safety within the confines of your room.
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