#maybe I'll post the next chapter tomorrow
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Red Knight - Chapter 3
DP x DC | Dead on Main
Jason Todd encounters one Danny Fenton in the streets of Gotham and suddenly he's thrown into a world of ghosts and monsters. Will he embrace this life? Or will it just end up with him dead again?
Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
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Jason didn’t go home. Instead, he melted into the shadows across the street from the diner and waited. A few minutes later Danny emerged and got on his motorbike. He revved the engine and began to speed away.
Jason would find out who the hell this guy was. (And if he was totally full of shit). He waited a moment before shooting a grapple line and pursuing.
Fifteen minutes later he found himself on a rooftop across the street from a simple apartment on the fourth floor of an old building. Using the binocular zoom on his helmet he watched Danny inside. He looked tired and utterly human as he went though the motions of getting ready for bed. As he took off his shirt Jason winced at the scars all across his body— most noticeably the Lichtenberg figure that cascaded up his arm and over his shoulder. The amount of electricity needed to leave that kind of mark— something like that should have killed him.
Maybe it had.
Minutes later Danny turned out the light and went to sleep. Jason didn’t leave. The pit was quiet. It stayed quiet all night.
In the morning Jason followed as Danny took the train across the city to Gotham University. Jason blended with the other students as he tailed him through the halls until Danny entered what appeared to be an upper level mechanical engineering lecture. Instead of following him in He headed back to Danny’s apartment.
He opted to pick the lock— better not to leave a trace. Inside he found a fairly typical college apartment. Sparse furnishings, a couple faded band posters tacked to the walls, game controllers strewn about. It was homey. Nice.
Jason found nothing out of the ordinary in the kitchen, nor the closets. No laptop or phone— must have taken them with him. Jason rifled through papers on the messy desk- lecture notes, sketched diagrams, grocery lists- and started to think that he really wan’t going to get anything good on this guy. Then he touched something that jolted him with an electric shock.
Jason pulled his hand away with a whispered curse while shuffling off the remaining papers, revealing some kind of metal belt. It had wires sticking out, chips exposed, clearly an unfinished project. What gave Jason pause was the faint strange glow about it, green with the same energy he saw in Danny’s palm and in his eyes.
He reached a hand toward it again. As soon as his fingers got close he felt the buzz of energy start to sharpen. The pit under his heart snarled. He pulled his hand back.
Mysterious gadgetry certainly was a little suspect, but by itself didn’t point to any nefarious intention. He thought about taking the belt to study it further, but doing proper diagnostics would require help from Tim, or worse, Bruce. No, thanks. Too many questions he didn’t want to answer.
He glanced at the papers again. He saw a full name there. Danny Fenton.
Danny Fenton. A powerful not-meta meta. Also, by the looks of it, just some average guy. That didn’t mean Jason would take his guard down. He knew that metas and monsters often hid in plain sight. And the ones that did it well were the most dangerous.
//
Jason went back to his apartment and slept through the rest of the day.
He woke up that night with a gun in his face.
A shadowed smile leered down at him. “So you are the new ghost boy. You’ll make a fine addition to my collection.”
A green blast split his bed down the middle as he leapt out of the way just in time. Who the fuck?
Jason grabbed the bat he kept next to his nightstand and took a wild swing at his assailant. As the sleep cleared from his eyes a seven foot tall robotic guy with a flaming green mohawk came into focus. His attacker stopped the bat in his hand with surprising strength.
“Ah good, you do have some fight in you.”
The robot guy punched Jason in the gut, launching him across the room. That hurt, way more than a hit from a common goon. What the hell was this guy made of?
Jason pulled himself up and grabbed a gun off the kitchen counter. He leveled it with easy precision. He planted one shot in the robot guy’s chest, the other between his eyes.
His aim was perfect.
Neither shot connected.
The bullets passed right through him. Jason’s mouth went dry.
“Hah, those puny weapons won’t work on me. Now this-“ what could only be described as a rocket launcher emerged from the robotics on the robot guy’s shoulder- “this is a real gun.”
The rockets fired, fueled again by that green energy. Jason bolted for the window and crashed out onto the fire escape, taking a hit to the side as he did. The blast burned but thankfully didn’t break the skin. Still hurt like a bitch though. The pit screamed, but the rage felt more focused now than it had before. Methodically he swung his way down to the street, landing bare-footed and in his sweats, unmasked and unarmed except for the useless gun in his hand. His attacker pursued, emerging through the wall and flying after him.
Jason gritted his teeth. The green energy, the familiar powers— it was too much to be just a coincidence. Ghost, he named his attacker in his head. Like Danny.
He ran.
The ghost caught up with him before he’d made it two buildings down. “Is that all you can do? Scurry around down there like a scared little mouse?”
More blasts assailed him from more varieties of guns. Jason dodged, but just barely. If he could just make it to his safehouse then— then what? He could shoot this guy with more guns that didn’t work? Hide behind walls that the ghost could walk right through?
He heard the next shot too late. A glowing rope wrapped itself around his ankles, sending him stumbling to the asphalt face first. Weak, he thought as he spit out gravel. He’d never felt so weak, not since coming back. For the first time since he emerged from the pit he no longer felt invincible.
His attacker landed with a metallic clank. Jason glowered as the ghost cracked a jagged smile. “That’s it? Your combat is weak. Your banter is lacking. Your head is hardly worth mounting above my mantle.”
Anger smoldered beneath Jason’s heart, pulling in on itself versus the usual explosion. His legs were bound but his hands were still free. He tightened his grip on his pistol.
With a roaring yell he heaved himself half up and swung the gun on the ghost again. He focused his anger, focused that pointed energy, and pulled the trigger.
A bullet shrouded in green flame exploded from the barrel. It connected with the ghost’s stomach, sending a shower of sparks spraying as it tore through the robotics.
The ghost looked down in shock.
Jason smiled in triumph. “How’s that for a real gun.”
Then Jason unloaded, pulling the trigger as fast as he could make it go. He kept shooting even when he should have run out of ammo, each shot a flaming green spark that took a chunk out of the robot ghost with every hit.
“What is this? Impossible!” The ghost took off yelling, retreating back down the street. Jason ripped the rope from his ankles and got on his feet to chase.
Ghost or not, this part Jason knew. Bad guy on the run, him in pursuit. He let his shaken nerves melt into a familiar resolve. The ghost shot back at him but Jason’s focus was unshakeable. His phantom bullets took the guns clean off the robot suit till it was covered in shredded metal.
Finally the ghost flew up, desperate to get out of range, defeated. “I underestimated you whelp. Until next time.”
With that the ghost activated his jet pack and flew away into the night. Jason kept shooting till he vanished over the rooftops.
//
That was not the last attack. They came nightly after that, some new kind of ghost would appear and stir up trouble. He’d notice them on patrol now- glowing vultures on the roofs or a green lion stalking in the park or translucent octopi floating down the streets. Had they always been there and he just hadn’t noticed? Or had they just showed up? The more he watched the more it seemed that other people didn’t see them.
Or maybe they just didn’t care. Just another one of those Gotham things.
Most ignored him entirely but caused trouble in different ways— lurking in sewers and tugging at people’s hems or floating through stores causing electronics to malfunction. Harmless mostly. But ever present. Those ones eventually noticed Jason watching and they’d always look back at him with surprise or curiosity or a sick kind of delight.
Sometimes Jason would pick the fight. He punched a ghost creep following a lady too closely as she walked down the street. Chased off a demonic possum that was oozing some kind of goo into the river. Other times the fight would pick him. He stared too long at a vulture and it swooped down on him, brandishing impossible teeth. A headless guy jumped him outside his safe house. He looked awfully similar to one of Gothams former gang bosses.
He was getting bette at harnessing that green energy and he could reliably shoot energy bullets from any of his guns. He also found that an old fashioned punch would also do the trick.
Once he saw an oily black creature at the edges of his vision, larger and more sinister than any of the other ghosts he’d encountered. A brawl in the street broke out a moment later so he didn’t get to investigate but somehow that one made him feel more unnerved than all the rest.
He didn’t understand where they were coming from or why they were here. He knew someone who probably would.
During daylight hours he gathered intel on Danny Fenton- or at least he attempted to. It was like the kid didn’t exist before he showed up as a student at Gotham University. The internet was shockingly clean of any records or photos.
Jason was beginning to think Danny Fenton was just a pseudonym until finally he got a relevant hit. He found an article published in a now-discredited scientific journal by Dr.s Jack and Madeline Fenton, detailing their paranormal research. The paper theorized about a separate dimension of post-concious beings. Suggested ways to make a portal there. It was too similar to what Danny described to be coincidence. Those were his parents, that was the portal that killed him. Maybe it was all true.
But Jason didn’t find any evidence that they had successfully created the portal. The paper talked about it in theory, not practice. The only evidence of them making it real was Danny himself. If he even believed Danny’s story.
Using a trick he stole from Tim he searched the housing records database and found a property under their names in Amity Park, Illinois. Satellite imaging showed a house that looked like a ufo had crashed landed on top of it. He chuckled to himself. That must be the place.
He was out grabbing a bite of dinner and considering a little field trip to Illinois to investigate further when the next ghost attack happened.
One second he was biting into his sandwich, the next three giant glowing green rats, just like the nasty ones that roamed Gotham’s sewers except 10 times bigger, burst out of the kitchen of the restaurant and out into the street.
Jason abandoned the sandwich and chased them out the door, pulling out his gun as they ran down an alley.
“Quit causing trouble on my turf,” Jason growled as he loosed a few blasts in their direction.
The rats stopped and turned back toward him halfway down the alley. The biggest one sat up and looked at him with sharp eyes. “Your turf? You got it twisted buddy. This here is our turf.”
Out of nowhere a fourth rat tackled him from behind. It’s boxy teeth clamped down on his shoulder with a sickening crunch. Jason yelled as he was thrown to the ground and suddenly all of them were on him, clawing and biting.
Jason clawed and bit back. He carried a gun even in his civvies (obviously) but couldn’t reach it in the thick of it.
He was truly starting to get pissed when suddenly the temperature dropped ten degrees. A voice came from down the alley.
“Hey.”
The rats froze. As a group they all looked toward the voice. At the mouth of the alley, plastic bodega bag in hand, face stern, stood Danny.
“What the hell is this?”
The head rat spoke up. “This is our turf. Tell the new guy he needs to buzz off before we make him.”
Danny folded his arms. His face was stoic but his voice had an icy edge. “I think you should be a bit more friendly to your neighbor.”
The rats reacted immediately, untangling themselves from Jason. “Jeez your majesty we were only joking. Mi casa es su casa and all that.”
“Good. Now scram.”
They scrambled away down the alley with a skittering of claws, running like they had hellfire under their asses.
Jason let out a long breath. Danny looked at him with complete recognition even though he was bare faced and in street clothes. Of course he could clock him out of costume. Why didn’t that surprise him?
Jason propped himself up on one arm. “Your majesty?”
“They don’t mean it as a compliment.” Danny huffed as he knelt down next to Jason, reaching out a gentle hand to inspect his wounds.
Danny’s jaw tightened as he ran a thumb over a gash in Jason’s arm. Jason pulled back.
“I’m fine.”
Danny reluctantly sat back. “There has been more ghost activity lately. Sorry I didn’t catch these guys quicker.”
“It’s okay. I dealt with the rest just fine.”
Danny tensed. “The rest?”
“I’ve been dealing with them since we got coffee. Nearly every night.“
Real anger flashed in Danny’s eyes for just a moment. It surprised Jason, and reminded him how much Danny wasn’t telling him.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Danny looked at Jason with such bare concern it made his heart feel sticky.
Jason grumbled. “I had it handled.”
“How??” Danny whined.
Jason pulled out his gun, pointed upward. Danny frowned, skeptical, until Jason pulled the trigger. A green blast shot into the sky. He shouldn’t have gotten so much satisfaction from surprise on Danny’s face.
“Oh,” Danny said. “Neat trick. That’s new?”
Jason nodded.
Danny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Despite that, there’s no way I’m letting you deal with these ghosts on your own.”
“Let me?” Jason scoffed. “I don’t need your help.”
Danny raised an eyebrow. “So you were planning on being rat food just now?”
“I almost had them.”
Danny chuckled. Jason didn’t waver. Then Danny got that glint in his eye.
“Okay. Then prove it.”
“What?”
“Show me you can actually handle a ghost attack and I’ll leave you alone.”
Jason wanted that, right? To not have to think about Danny Fenton popping up randomly in his life again? He ignored the twist of confusion in his gut.
“How? There’s no ghosts.”
Danny stood up and gestured to himself with a smirk.
“You’re joking.” Jason deadpanned.
“Try me.”
Guess that was always how this was gonna shake out. Sure, why not. Stone-faced and without hesitation Jason pulled a second pistol out of his belt and shot a green blast directly at Danny with a sizzling crack. Danny took the hit on the shoulder with barely a flinch. He glanced down at the burn hole on his shirt. The skin beneath was unbroken.
Danny’s smile widened, and there were those fangs again. “That it?”
Jason clenched his teeth and sprang into action. He launched to his feet as he brandished both guns in front of himself, shooting rapid fire.
Danny moved like a practiced fighter, ducking and weaving around the shots. A handful hit him but they didn’t break his focus or his stride. Jason stepped back to keep distance but Danny was quicker. Suddenly he was close enough that Jason felt the coolness of his breath.
His fist came quick. Jason threw up his arm to block. He barely managed to keep his feet under him. The next punch connected with his gut and sent him shuffling backwards, but still upright. He used the space to pull up his guns again and fired.
Danny jumped and suddenly he was lighter than air, floating and flipping over Jason’s head. Jason tracked him with the guns and spun as Danny landed, again too close.
Jason holstered the guns and opted to grab Danny by the front of his shirt with both hands. He turned and slammed Danny into the alley wall.
“You are strong I’ll give you that,” Danny said, the amused grin on his lips mere inches from Jason’s, “But ghosts have tricks.”
Suddenly Jason was holding nothing but air. His fingers clenched into fists.
Barely a breath later Jason felt a cheek next to his, behind him.
“Boo.” Danny said directly in Jason’s ear. Jason elbowed backward reflexively, connecting with Danny’s gut. Danny let out a satisfying oof before slipping out of reach.
It fell into the rhythm of a brawl then as they traded blows. But even with the bits of ghostly flair Danny threw in, it felt off. Danny wasn’t fighting like the other ghosts he’d faced. He was fighting like a human. He was holding back.
Jason ground his teeth together as his anger bubbled to a boil. Stepping back to steal enough distance, he pulled out his pistols. He let the anger swirl and coalesce under his heart. He focused and pulled both triggers at once.
A massive green fireball exploded from the combined gun barrels, hurtling toward Danny.
There was no time for Danny to dodge. Jason relished the surprise on his face. But right before the fireball collided, Danny extended a palm and a translucent green shield appeared, covering him. The fireball dissipated on impact.
Jason groaned in frustration. Another power he didn’t know about? How was that fair?
“Why are you holding back?” he demanded.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Danny’s shield disappeared. “But I could ask you the same question.”
“What?” Jason was barely keeping up as is.
“I think you can do better than this.” Danny challenged.
Jason tightened his grip on his guns. Danny relaxed his fighting stance. “Can’t you go toe to toe with Batman? Even my sister would at least be making me sweat.”
Again that roiling focused anger under his heart, swirling like a supernova. Danny just looked at him with that shit-eating grin. He let the fire of anger burn hotter to cover the rising of something else underneath.
“Be serious.” Jason growled.
“Make me.”
With a roar Jason blasted another huge fireball and the fight was back on.
Jason actually wanted to hurt Danny now. He wanted to prove to himself that he could. He moved faster, punched harder, let out more of that fire with each shot.
The next time Danny got up close and Jason swapped to his fists, Jason noticed a green fiery glow had formed around his hands. Danny did too, when he winced for the first time after a punch connected. The pit under his heart hummed in triumph.
After that it was less easy for Danny to slip away into intangibility, more easy for Jason to press the offensive. Finally Jason swept Danny’s legs from under him and pinned him to the ground, a mirror of the first night they met.
Jason’s breath came in pants. He gripped Danny’s shirt tight in his fist.
“Not bad.” Danny flashed his fangs.
Jason lifted a fist to punch that stupid smile off his jaw but Danny threw up a hand and caught his fist, inches before it hit, stopping it with unshakeable strength.
“Believe me now when I say I’ve got it handled myself?” Jason kept his tone even.
Danny eyed Jason’s still-glowing fist. “More now than before, yeah. But-“ Danny pushed Jason’s fist aside with infuriating ease. He pulled his legs out from underneath Jason with intangibility and floated smoothly to his feet.
“I’m still going to help you.”
“That wasn’t the deal. You said if I-“
A blast of green energy to his stomach cut him off, stronger and faster than any of the punches they’d traded. Danny grabbed Jason by the jacket and they flew, up to the top of the twelve story building. Danny looked at him with empty eyes. And dropped him.
Jason didn’t scream. He scrambled for his grapple gun. He was falling too fast. He got a hand on it, too late- but it didn’t matter. Danny swooped down and pushed him intangibly through the ground at the moment of impact. He felt himself being dragged up through darkness until-
He was stuck in the alley pavement up to his waist. Danny crouched next to him.
“I promise this is a warning not a threat. I didn’t realize that patching up your core would put you over the threshold to get ghostly attention. They won’t stop bothering you. And they won’t all be small fry. If you won’t let me take care of them for you, at least let me give you a fighting chance.”
Jason glowered up at him. “You’re not going to let me out of here unless I say yes.”
Danny smiled, the most brilliant thing in the dark street. “Bingo.”
#dpxdc#dcxdp#danny phantom#jason todd#dead on main#dead on main ship#dp x dc fanfic#fanfic#danny x jason#dp#dp x dc#red knight fic#now we're caught up with ao3#maybe I'll post the next chapter tomorrow
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A Sky Full of Sun - 3
Kristanna Modern au
Rated: M
WC: 1619
Chapter Index
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After the sun set, Kristoff asked Anna if she wanted that beer, and they sat in the Palapa Bar while the last of the colour drained from the sky. They talked a bit to the staff and Anna impressed him with her basic grasp of Spanish. She had ordered for them and he had to admit, the language sounded wonderful in her voice.
After the first sip of the crisp and cold beer, Kristoff realized it was going to go down quickly. Was there any better taste than a cold beer on a hot day? And on vacation no less. He was finishing his second as Anna took the last swig of her first.
“So, you want to maybe go grab a bite with me?” she asked, instead of ordering another beer. “Or if you’d rather part ways, that’s cool.”
“No, we can go together, sure. I have no idea what’s around here.”
“I looked up a few places before we came but we can just walk around and find a place. Most of the reviews are good and a travel blogger said if the place is busy, it’s likely a good spot.”
“Sounds good to me.”
They grabbed their things from the lounge chairs and headed up to the condo to change. Kristoff pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and went out to the main area to wait for Anna. He was leaning on the glass railing, looking up at the night sky and all the stars – ones you just don’t see when you live in a sprawling city – when she came behind him and told him she was ready. He turned around and tried hard not to gawk at her.
She’d pulled her damp hair into an updo and was wearing a knee length white cotton dress which she looked absolutely radiant in.
“You ready?”
“You bet,” Kristoff answered, eyes passing the length of her as she turned around to head to the door. She was gorgeous, he couldn’t help himself.
They walked across the main streets and into the town. There were plenty of waiters waiting at the edge of the restaurants, enticing them to come in and sit down, but they walked on a bit, wanting to see what else there was. They settled on an open-aired place called Darlene’s that was owned by a Canadian who’d moved down to Ixtapa fourteen years prior.
“I told myself I was going to order nothing but seafood since were on the ocean,” Anna said, as she looked over the menu. “But there’s chicken cordon bleu and I just love that so much. I’ll bet it’s good.”
Kristoff agreed it probably was and decided to order it too. They were not disappointed, it was fabulous. Paired with a couple more Dos Equis, it was the best meal Kristoff had in a very long time, and he felt it had a lot to do with the company as well as the food and drink.
Perhaps it was the beers, or the fact that it wasn’t what he expected when he heard Sven wasn’t going to be there at first, but Kristoff was enjoying the hell out of himself. Anna was easy to be around, and he had a feeling that the next two weeks were going to be amazing.
*******
Anna laid in bed a long time unable to sleep. She was exhausted from getting up early and getting to the airport and the plane ride and swimming and walking around town, before and after dinner, however, she could not find sleep.
She could hear music coming from somewhere but it didn’t bother her. Her mind was consumed with the thoughts of what could be.
Kristoff was like a breath of fresh air. He was so unassuming. He was polite and respectful and insisted on paying for dinner since she had paid for the cab, even though dinner was twice as expensive. He held so firmly on that in such a wonderfully gentile way that Anna felt a fluttery all over.
They stopped at a Tequila place after dinner and when they got back to the condo they sipped on some coffee-flavoured liqueur, sitting on the balcony and looking out at the night sky over the ocean. It had only been about seven hours since the plane landed, and they had been some of the most enjoyable of Anna’s life as of late.
She imagined staying in touch with Kristoff after they got back. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wanted to be friends with him, only part of her wanted to be more than that. Anna wondered what his lips would feel like against her own and she finally found a peaceful sleep dreaming about soft sweet kisses.
*******
Kristoff was wide awake. There was a night club or something that was playing incredibly loud dance music, and while it was on the other side of the condo, he could hear it as clear as day. He hoped it was because it was Saturday night and not something that was going to happen every evening.
Unable to sleep, he found his mind thinking over the day. The unease he’d felt that morning to learn that Sven and Liz would not be joining them right away, felt like a distant memory. And he truly was delighted by Anna offering him to sit with her on the plane. That had been very nice of her, although, like she said, better him than a stranger, even though technically he was still a stranger at the beginning of that flight.
They certainly weren’t strangers now. Throughout dinner and drinks on the balcony before bed, they talked about themselves and their lives, and Kristoff found delight in learning more about her. As vehement as he’d been about not letting Sven try and set him up with women anymore, it didn’t necessarily seem like such a bad situation they found themselves in, or rather, that he found himself in. Anna was wonderful.
Kristoff rolled over and grabbed the other pillow and put it on his head. He was dead tired, and he eventually ignored the music and drifted off into dreamland, his last thoughts being one’s of bright blue eyes and a dazzling smile.
-------
Kristoff woke early despite not getting much sleep. Feeling a lot of pent-up energy, he decided to check out the little gym he saw in the courtyard when they had arrived. It was a circular building with glass walls and AC, which was nice given the fact that he was still trying to get used to the humidity.
He had half a mind to leave a note for Anna, except he had no idea where to find paper and looking in a few cabinets he only found books and board games. Not really wanting to snoop too hard amongst the condo owner’s things, he gave up and decided to just do a quick twenty minutes on the treadmill and lift some weights.
By the time he was done, he was a little embarrassed with himself to realize that he was rushing back upstairs, but Anna didn’t appear to be awake as her door was still shut. Either that or she had already left upon finding the condo empty. Kristoff went outside and looked down to the pools, but he couldn’t see her down there. There wasn’t much activity at all yet in fact.
Wandering into the tiny kitchen he found some coffee in the freezer and made a pot. He was leaning over the sink, looking out the window towards town, when he heard her behind him.
“Oh, is that coffee I smell? Bless you, dear sir.”
Kristoff chuckled and turned around. Anna was in pyjama shorts and a tank top and he was absolutely helpless to notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“What are we doing for breakfast?” she asked, opening kitchen cupboards and looking inside. “Unless, you know, you want to do your own thing, no problem.”
“Doesn’t matter too much to me,” Kristoff answered, watching as she found coffee mugs and pulled two of them off the shelf and set by the brewing coffee maker. It really didn’t matter to him. He was discovering that a lot seemed to not matter as much when he was with her. So far, he was happy to go along with whatever she wanted to do.
“Let’s just grab a bite in the Palapa, then I was thinking we could gran a cab to Zihuatanejo and stock up on some groceries. Liz texted me this morning, that’s what woke me up actually, and they booked the Wednesday flight down. I thought it would be nice to make a couple meals here since I just know those two are going to want to go out every night.”
“Sure, that sounds like a great idea,” he said, chiding himself for not texting Sven yet to see how he was doing. Truth be told, he pretty much forgot about his best friend.
“Great! We’ll get that all done and then we can swim the afternoon away.” She smiled then it faltered and she added, “Unless you have other plans. Just let me know if I’m being kind of pushy.”
Kristoff did not want her to get the wrong impression of him about this stuff. “No honestly, that all sounds good for today. Trust me, if I don’t feel like doing something, I will tell you.”
Why did that feel like a lie? It wasn’t, but then again, if she asked him to go to the beach, even though he didn’t care for the beach because he hated sand, he was pretty sure he would go.
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#a sky full of sun#cee wrote this mess#kristanna#kristoff#anna#kristanna modern au#I kept the chapters short thinking it might be easier to read so not too much happens in this one#I'll post the next one soon#maybe tomorrow or sunday
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Guess who got sent home for being sick OvO
I feel like shit
#announcers corner#brain feels like cotton and can't think straight#I'll still try to post the next chapter of whatever is my lineup tomorrow but i make no promise#Raised in Captivity is next. i only have one chapter completed.#maybe I'll post Eclipsed Rhythm or Thief's Chosen End instead#i don't know#Currently cuddling the Moon plush I made a while back#don't wanna see me chat? block: announcers corner
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alright, after taking my sweet ass time I got some writing for chapter 3 done for joel and our therapist. I've been writing since midnight with the old star wars movies on in the background, I'm now on return of the jedi, thirsting over boba fett, time for bed lol
#joel miller x therapist! reader#restoring the roots fic#I could leave the chapter off here in a nice place but its only readers pov#not sure if I should continue on or start a new chapter for the next portion#i'll figure that out tomorrow and maybe post a sneak peak of ch 2
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#i think i finally caught up on all the comments that weren't on my new fic chapter#which means i gotta go through the ones on the new chapter#and im like Genuinely Anxious#i reread the first few and it was so :D and then they. um. they were not so :D#i have a feeling i'm just not gonna be able to respond to a lot of them#not because i don't want to but because i'd get too anxious trying to type a response#like shaking heart pounding vision blurring anxious#idk i'm hoping they're not as bad as I remember#and then maybe i'll post the next two chapters tomorrow and maybe the comment section will be slightly less anxiety-inducing#edit now that i'm almost done: i think i just saw two or three comments that were kinda 😬 and then made unfair assumptions about the rest#because after letting them sit for a few days#this hasn't been too bad!#there's one that i haven't google translated yet so im a lil scared to do that because idk what to expect but otherwise???#it could've been worse???#also i don't keep too careful of an eye on my subscriptions but i think it's relatively the same as it was before i posted this chapter#so it cant be too bad right 😭
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i hate how my brain works though because every time i finish a chapter and take a break my brain immediately becomes terrified that i won’t be able to write again. like if i take a break i lose the streak and i’m done for, even though i have consistently taken one to two day breaks each week and come back writing again each time. take the piss
#Psy's no punctuation posts#i am ALLOWED a fuckin BREAK!!!#i can't write today i'm too tired i only got 4 hours of sleep#so i am going to let myself relax. chill. maybe continue rewatching Inside Job or watch a movie or something#i deserve that once i get off of work#and then MAYBE tomorrow if i feel like writing i can start but if not i can just focus on psoting the next chapter#and call that good#which i havent decided who to post yet#was gonna do Ed but havent gotten my friend's feedback so i'll hang back#maybe do a lighter chapter since Elmore's was 15k... maybe Dr. Andonuts or Paul?#wanted to do a fucked up one but I don't want to post Ollie and Pusher's since that's too much drama of the same fmaily all at once#and Ed's is the only other super fucked up one i wrote so far#i also rly wanna post Jonel's but we also JUST had a Bob and Donna chapter#and also... it's like one of the last chapters chronologically so i don't want to get ppl confused#chapter 2 is Bob and Donna making up and then nJonel's is like a year later and they have a fucking child they dont want KRGHF#or didnt want... they do love him after the fact#not that thats important but it shows up in the chapter at leas-
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14% of the way through....
#ok i can do like half an hour each day and then i'll finish on the weekend. good pace. we can do this#hopefully tomorrow i can do some reading at work. LMAO.#honestly my bottleneck (aside from my own focus/free time) is the rate at which people upload the main story recordings to youtube#youtube channel polar artem u are my hero. i love you. i hope you have a good day 366x this year#tot liveblog#wow i should translate something again... maybe i've improved (wishful thinking)#but it really has been a while and there are some things i said i would translate that i never did. lol#probably not a card tho (mainly since i haven't been reading the recent cards). maybe an extra thing like interview. i'll probably look for#some fan analyses since we got a main story chapter. idk tho i kinda wanna chew over word choice again. then again i get to be a bit looser#when translating discussion posts....#EDIT 2/12: post is still happening just. it takes so much focus to read two things at the same time aldsjfklsjlaskej#so much more tempting to read other VNs where i'm like. just reading normally. and not also trying to keep track of a plot spanning mult ye#years while simultaneously trying to consider the implications for characterization in the context of 2.5 years' worth of interaction#it's fine my relationship with tot content is totally normal and healthy and i absolutely do this voluntarily. for Fun#ok but DEF it'll be up by next weekend promise (bc i need to distract myself before dessert de otomate)
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poisoned mercury | close as strangers (post chb)
a/n: okayyyy so i didn't give them an angst ending but i had to give into the angst monster at least once for this series so here's a bonus chapter for poisoned mercury. miscommunication galore. long distance is hard! two dumbasses in love!
song: close as strangers by 5sos
series masterlist | previous | next
"i'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" luke whispered, trying not to wake his bandmates up. the tour bus was large enough to house them while they were on the road, but it didn't really give the privacy he hoped for. chris was just across the narrow walkway from him and luke could hear his soft snores through the thin curtain that separated them.
luke felt his heart hammering in his chest when you didn't reply to him. he could still hear your breaths through the phone and you were just talking to him a second ago, so he knew you were still awake. you both had equally busy lives which meant that your phone calls were getting shorter and shorter each day. luke knew it was because you were booked with school and tournaments for field hockey and he was always exhausted after each meeting now that the band was working on their second album. luke knew all of this, but it didn't stop him from missing you. he was lucky to get a ten-minute call with you nowadays.
"baby?" he tried again, chewing on his bottom lip. he turned to face the ceiling of his bunk, the light from his phone casting a shadow on his face as he waited for you to say something. anything. "can i call you tomorrow?"
you sighed, "i don't know, luke. i have a busy day. it's a travel game tomorrow so i don't know if i'll be up late."
"oh," he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment. he felt a little stupid that there were tears pooling in his eyes. so you can't talk tomorrow, it shouldn't be a big deal, right? except that luke felt like you were pulling away from him. little by little. and he didn't know how to stop it. it wasn't like he could drop everything to show up at your doorstep and fix things with you. if it was up to him, he would do it in a heartbeat, but you'd probably get mad at him for it, for abandoning his responsibilities as the lead singer of the most popular band in the world. not to mention the boys would be livid and mr. d and his mom would be equally furious.
"sorry, maybe next week?"
"yeah, sure," he replied, thankful that you weren't on facetime tonight. he didn't want you to see his face. "alright, i'll let you get some rest. go kill it tomorrow. g'night, five star."
"goodnight," you said, ending the call as soon as the last syllable left your lips.
luke groaned quietly, tossing his phone on the foot of his bed. he knew long distance was going to be difficult. it's been months since he last saw you, months since he was at camp half blood, sleeping in your bed and waking up to the feeling of your lips peppering kisses on his face. maybe he shouldn't have gotten so attached so fast, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.
he got out from his bunk, tucking his feet into his slippers and made his way to the living room area of the bus. he sat on the couch, peering out the window to watch the empty roads ahead. they were on their way to nashville to meet with a producer that mr. d recommended. the second album was almost done, but it was missing something and none of them wanted to put out a record that didn't meet their expectations.
mr. d was already in tennessee waiting for them. he'd flown in from houston a few days ago with luke's mom and the rest of the poisoned mercury team while the boys were in atlanta for a movie premiere. they decided that a road trip was needed to de-stress after the glitz and buzz of the red carpet. it was nice to have some alone time with the boys. in their tour bus, luke felt like they were back in connecticut, just four friends fucking around, writing music, and eating junk food until their stomachs hurt.
he turned on the tv, switching to some random channel that he wasn't paying attention to. he just needed some noise to drown out his thoughts, but that didn't seem to work. all he could think of was you, his five star, and how much he missed you. luke wondered if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing. maybe he'd been too optimistic about things; maybe you weren't on the same page as he was; maybe you realized that it was too difficult to be with him.
a shiver ran down his spine as he spiraled into his thoughts. admitting to himself that something was wrong between the two of you left a bitter taste in his mouth because he didn't want to believe it. he saw you as his endgame, like nobody else in the world could compare to you, and to think that you may not feel the same about him... well, it was a difficult pill to swallow.
he wondered if he came on too strong, showed his cards too early, and seemed too clingy and lovestruck before it was deemed appropriate. you'd only been together, officially at least, for four months, most of which were long distance, but luke knew he was a goner for you way before that.
he silently cursed as the chill of the december air hit his skin. he should've worn a hoodie. he grabbed the small throw blanket draped over the armchair and placed it around his shoulders. he wished he got to see you over thanksgiving break because maybe you two wouldn't be in this rocky situation right now, but your coach ordered you and clarisse to stay on campus over break to sharpen your skills since you missed summer training. luke and chris were less than pleased with the idea, but they knew it was out of their control.
luke fell asleep on the couch that night after succumbing to the tiredness in his body. the sun was beginning to rise by the time his eyelids fluttered shut. he hoped that he'd wake up to a text from you, but when he woke up to the sound of the bus screeching to a halt in nashville, he realized it was the hope that kills.
-
“are you guys going to the fall concert?” silena asked, poking her head out of the bathroom. she was part of the planning committee for the unc fall semester concert and she’d been stressing over the logistics of it for weeks.
“lena, if we even tried to miss it, you’d kill us,” clarisse chuckled, putting on a coat of mascara. “you’ve been talking about this since we got back.”
the three of you were getting ready in your dorm. you and clarisse were roommates this year, thank gods for athlete privileges, and silena lived in the building next door in a single since she was an ra. how she had the time to be an ra, be a member of the music festival planning committee, and be a full-time student was truly beyond your comprehension.
“lena, calm down. it’ll be good,” you squeezed her shoulders as you passed by behind her, grabbing your lipgloss from the counter. “and even if it sucks, half the people in the crowd are either drunk or high or both and will probably not remember it.”
“true,” she snorted, curling the final piece of her hair. she unplugged her hair curler and gave herself one last look in the mirror, “i’ll see you guys there? i gotta go make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.”
you and clarisse nodded as silena said her goodbyes. you dabbed on some lipgloss, glancing down at your phone every few seconds. clarisse side-eyed you, unable to hide her smile, “you waitin’ for a text?”
“shut up,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. she didn't really know that your relationship was a little muddy at the moment. you weren’t the best at talking about your feelings and it felt wrong to talk about your relationship drama when clarisse and chris seemed to be going strong. “they’re supposed to land in los angeles ten minutes ago.”
“their flight probably got delayed, y/n,” she replied, “happens all the time.”
“no, i know, but just wanna make sure they’re safe, y’know?”
clarisse crossed her arms over her chest, “they’re safe or he’s safe?”
you ignored her question, opting to busy yourself with the weather app on your phone to avoid any follow-up questions, “how are you not checking your phone for a text from chris right now?”
she shrugged, “he always knocks out on long flights so i don’t expect a text until he gets to their hotel.”
“how are you and chris, by the way? i know we live together and shit, but i feel like we haven’t gotten to talk about it in detail since we’re always so tired from school and practice.”
“we’re good,” clarisse hummed, “just miss him loads, though. i haven’t seen him since we left camp– what? four, almost five, months ago?”
you were in the same boat, kind of. you and luke hadn’t seen each other in months and you were getting antsy. they’d been on the road for the past few months, meeting with producers and fulfilling their contractual obligations. they hadn’t been in a set location long enough for you to be able to fly out to see luke, even just for a weekend.
at first, there were movie dates where you’d order each other food and eat and watch the movie on facetime together. there were weekly phone calls and daily texts, but nothing compares to the real thing. being with luke in person was something that you were craving. camp half blood spoiled you with having him all for yourself and now that you were back in school and he’s out in the world, it was beginning to weigh on you.
you missed him. a lot.
you missed kissing him and feeling his lips break out into a smile when you’d mumble something stupid. you missed feeling his arms around you, hugging you from behind while you got ready for the day. you even missed waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of him scribbling random lyrics on pieces of scrap paper he found in your room when he slept over.
long distance is hard and sure, luke wouldn’t be the type to cheat or do anything to jeopardize your relationship, but it still didn’t stop a knot from forming in your stomach every time a picture of him or the band popped up on your social media with a gorgeous singer, actor, or model that they ran into on the red carpet. what if he realizes one day that he wants someone who lives the same life as him? wild and adventurous, not tied down by school or sports?
a part of you felt silly for being so insecure about things. it was too early in the relationship to have this conversation, isn’t it? you knew that your avoidance of the topic was starting to affect your relationship with luke, as much as you wished it didn’t, but what if the minute you voice your concerns, he’ll realize that being with you was more than he bargained for? after all, you weren’t the same five star with all the time in her hands, care-free, and relaxed that he met at camp. there was a chance that luke would call it quits on this if you said anything and it felt like too big of a risk to take.
your phone buzzed on the counter, indicating a text.
from: luke <3
‘landed and jetlagged. gonna sleep for a few. enjoy the concert babe!’
you hearted the message and slipped your phone into your back pocket after sending him a quick goodnight text. the three dots popped up for a second, then in a blink, they disappeared. read at 8:43 pm.
“you ready?”
you snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of clarisse’s voice. you nodded and grabbed your small purse before heading out the door. you ran into a group of your teammates who were heading to the amphitheater across campus for the concert. the walk seemed to fly by as they cracked jokes and shared stories about random things. you stayed silent for the most part, only laughing along when it seemed like the right time, but your mind was somewhere else. your mind was in los angeles.
by the time you got to the venue, you and clarisse separated from the group to enter the vip tent, courtesy of silena. a small crowd was beginning to form in front of the stage, taking up the grassy field. charlie was already at the tent, sipping on an ipa when he saw the two of you. his face broke out into a wide smile, giving you and clarisse a quick hug before leading you to the seats he saved.
“season’s looking promising for you guys, charlie,” you commented, accepting the high noon he offered. “the team’s looking good out there.”
“thanks,” he beamed, “don’t think we’re on the level of national champs just yet like you guys, but we’re trying!”
“you guys are doing great,” clarisse chimed in, “the energy in the stadium is electric this year. makes me love college.”
“are you telling me the papers and tests aren’t what makes you love college, la rue?” charlie teased.
she snorted, “oh yeah, because i just love staying up until 1 am writing a paper on greek mythology for classics 101.”
the three of you fell into a comfortable conversation about the class you were all taking. it was a prerequisite class that most athletes choose to take because the professor was flexible with deadlines when it came to athletes. it was helpful especially when a team has to play beyond their season for tournaments or championships. about ten minutes before the opening act got on stage, silena rushed into the tent.
“guys, please you need to come with me. i need your help,” she said frantically. she was nervously tugging on her ‘staff’ badge around her neck, already halfway out of the tent as she waited for the three of you to follow her. “please, it’s an emergency.”
“woah, lena, what’s going on?” you asked, getting up to comfort her. you followed her through the crowd, grabbing clarisse’s hand to keep her close.
silena shook her head, continuing her march through the sea of people, “just come with me, i’ll explain when we get backstage.”
you and clarisse looked at each other, feeling bad for silena. she put in her blood, sweat, and tears into this concert and you knew that she would beat herself up over it if something went wrong. silena always put her all into the projects she’s passionate about, but sometimes things outside of her control happen and unfortunately, she blames herself for it.
in the whirlwind of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’, the four of you managed to make your way backstage. it was chaotic. people were running around everywhere making sure everything was set for the opening act. the girl who was opening the concert was waiting by the wings, her guitar strapped across her chest as she took some deep breaths. the crowd wasn’t full yet, but you knew that if you were in that position, you’d still be sweating buckets. going out there on stage to perform for strangers was nerve-racking. you didn’t know how luke did it. you admired that about him.
“lena, are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” clarisse questioned, picking up the pace of her steps to match silena.
silena stopped in front of a door, slowly turning to face you and clarisse. suddenly, her stressed facade faded as she twisted the doorknob, “why don’t you see for yourself?”
if you weren’t so confused about what was going on, you would’ve seen charlie lift his can up to his lips to hide his smile at how proud he was of his girlfriend for her acting skills. when the door opened, your heart stopped.
luke was here.
he stood in the middle of the room beside chris with a nervous smile on his face. he was wearing a black leather jacket on top of a white tank top and black pants. his poisoned mercury chain hung from his neck, shining under the overhead lights. his hands were stuffed in his front pockets, shy and timid, as he waited for your reaction.
clarisse screamed when it hit her that chris was actually here. she ran to him and nearly tackled him to the floor. chris wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and laughed as she giggled into his neck. the two of them shared a heartfelt reunion before rushing out of the room to get some privacy. the sound of the door shutting behind you made you blink.
luke cleared his throat, right hand scratching the back of his neck, “hey, five star.”
the nickname brought you back to your senses. you ran to him, engulfing him in a tight hug with an ‘umph.’ at first, luke was tense under your touch, unsure if you’d be happy with his surprise, but quickly, he melted into you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing in content as your familiar scent surrounded him. he felt sparks coursing through his veins as you hugged him tighter and all he could think about was how good it felt to have you in his arms again. his mind was still reeling at your reaction. he didn’t expect you to run to him like this, especially not when it felt like you’d been avoiding his calls over the last few weeks.
“what are you doing here?” you asked him, pulling away to hold his face in your hands. your eyes twinkled as you raked over his face, still in disbelief that he was actually in front of you. “you’re supposed to be in la.”
luke couldn’t stop the lopsided smile on his face, “well, i lied? we were in nashville recording with your dad and he mentioned that he didn’t schedule a session for us this weekend in case me and chris wanted to take a trip to north carolina, so here we are.”
you ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, whispering, “here you are.”
“god, i missed you so much,” he said, voice breaking. “you have no idea how hard it’s been.”
you gulped, your hold on his face faltering a bit. if luke wasn’t on edge, he wouldn’t have noticed the falter in your step, but he felt the slight hesitation in your actions. your warm touch slowly peeled away from his face and he instantly regretted saying those words. here he goes being clingy again. he removed his hands from your waist, clearing his throat. he sat on the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him. he tried to keep his hands to himself when you left a space between the two of you.
“i still can’t believe you’re really here,” you said, staring at him. you wanted to lean over and hold him in your arms again, but there was a weird tension in the air that made you feel queasy. “i feel like i’m dreaming right now.”
“i hope you’re not mad that i’m here,” luke looked down at his lap, flexing his hands. he had to keep his hands busy or else he’d surely reach for yours and he didn’t want to come on too strong. he had to keep his distance. he didn’t want to scare you off any more than he already did. “there was just an opening in the schedule and i-i wanted to see you.”
“i’m not mad at all.”
“good, good,” he replied. silence. he forced himself to look up from his lap, twisting his body to face you. he bit his bottom lip, trying to build up the courage to ask his next question. “are we okay?”
“we’re okay.”
“okay because i feel like things have been different between us lately,” he pursed his lips, looking at you with sad eyes. his tongue poked out the corner of his lips, eyes darting between you and the wall behind you. “i don’t know. i feel like we haven’t talked in ages, y’know? and i know you’re busy and you have a great life here that i’m not really a part of, but uh, i wanna be, y’know? i don’t know much about school or field hockey, but it’s important to you and you’re important to me so i wanna hear about it.”
he was met with more silence. luke continued, “maybe i’m asking for too much when i ask you to let me be a part of this life, but uh, i miss you? and i just feel like i’m losing you and that’s the last thing i want. so you gotta give me something, five star. tell me what i can do to be better.”
“if you need me to back off, i’ll do it, you know? you call the shots. you tell me what you need from me, and i’ll do it, okay? i just– i can’t lose this. i don’t wanna lose you,” luke mumbled. “maybe this is all in my head too. i don’t know anymore.”
you shuddered, lip quivering, “i feel like i’m holding you back.”
“what?”
“come on, luke,” you flicked away the tear that trickled down your cheek, “you’re out there in the world doing what you love. meeting new people. living your life and i don’t want to hold you back from that. we met each other when i didn’t have all these responsibilities and who i was at camp is not who i am here and i know you love those impromptu adventures and trips and spontaneity. a-and i can’t give that to you.”
“you deserve someone who can live this life with you and i’m stuck here for two more years, luke. i can’t do that,” it was getting hard to breathe. your throat felt like it was closing up, cutting off your airflow. you’d been putting off this conversation for weeks. it didn’t feel right to talk about this over the phone, and you thought that you had a few more weeks to figure out what to say to him when you saw him for winter break, but he was here now. “you deserve more than facetime calls and text messages, and that’s all i can offer.”
“is this–” he paused, licking his lips. “is this not what you want anymore?”
“what?”
“this, us? is this just not what you want anymore?”
an involuntary laugh escaped you as you wiped under your eye, “castellan, i don’t think i could stop wanting you even if i wanted to. and you know when we first met, i really wanted to.”
luke moved closer to you, just an inch or two, trying to gauge your reaction. you didn’t move away, which he took as a good sign, “i’m confused. why do you sound like you want to end this then?”
“i don’t want you to settle for this,” you sighed, “i know what you deserve and it isn’t this.”
“bullshit.”
you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief, “what?”
“i’m sorry, five star, but that’s bullshit,” a small smile was tugging on his lips. he reached over to place a hand over yours. his fingers traced your knuckles, running the pads of his fingers across the familiar ridges of your skin. “i don’t understand how after all this time you still don’t realize that all i want is you. it’s ridiculous, really.”
“it’s ridiculous?”
“it’s ridiculous,” he chuckled wetly. his other hand rubbed at his eyes, clearing his foggy vision. “our situation isn’t ideal, i know that, but i’d take long distance with you over anything else with anyone else. don’t you get it, five star? you’re it for me. if this isn’t what you want anymore, i’ll accept that. but if you’re only doing this because you don’t think i want this… five star, i want it all with you. long distance. phone calls. text messages. weekend trips when we can get them. distance has nothing on how i feel about you.”
leave it to luke castellan to make you blush. you shyly looked at him, eyes twinkling with something more than either of you bargained for when you first met in that secret spot you call yours, “how do you feel about me?”
“i’m not gonna say it right now because i don’t want to have the first time be while we’re in a fight,” luke laughed. the air was starting to clear. “but i have a feeling you know.”
“i know,” you squeezed his hand three times, “i do too.”
“will you put me out of my misery and kiss me please?”
“always so fucking dramatic,” you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes, but you leaned over and pressed your lips to his.
#frances writes#poisoned mercury#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan pjo#luke pjo#luke castellan#luke castellan fanfic#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x yn#luke castellan x y/n
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A Baker's Dozen - Six
Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.
Hello!
I can't believe it's already the halfway point for A Baker's Dozen, Pedro boy number six is waiting in the wings. But before I let him in I just want to say a massive thank you for all the love all you lovely people gave Ezra. It was a bit sadder than others but there always a chance of him re-appearing...
I'm dropping chapter today seeing as tomorrow is New Year's Eve, from next week I'll be back on my regular Sunday evening posting.
Also, don't miss all the #pickledpena fics that'll be posting on January 1st! And follow @pickled-pena to see them all in their pickled Peña glory.
Happy 2024 all you lovely people!
Series Master List
He puts out the cigarette just before he steps through your door on a quiet afternoon. You’re busy placing some fresh coffee cake in the display case and he’s the only customer in the shop. Crouched down, almost out of sight, it gives you a few seconds to observe him as he looks around the shop. He’s handsome, dangerously handsome, and holds himself with a nonchalant air of confidence that makes you think he’s aware of how good he looks. No man would wear jeans that tight if he didn’t know his body could pull it off, his generous package clearly framed by the crotch of the dark wash denim. A black, short sleeved, shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, one too many buttons undone, yellow aviators nonchalantly hanging from the neckline. And as you drag your eyes away from the freckles of his chest and up to his face, you’re met by his dark eyes, an almost scowl marring his handsome features as he locks eyes with you.
You stand up, placing the now empty tray on the counter and put your customer service smile on, squashing a nervous squeal in your belly.
“Hi, welcome, how can I help you?” you say, wiping your hands on your apron as the man approaches.
“I’m lookin’ for a bakery that does Mexican things, I need a Tres Leches cake,” he says, his eyes leaving yours and scanning the shelves of your display case as you shake your head. His Texas drawl is subtle but the low register of his rich voice emphasizes it and sends a little shiver down your spine.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any for sale today, but I can make one for you, if you’d like to order?” you reply and you’re surprised when his face seems to fall and he sighs deeply, annoyance rolling off him like the warm scent of his aftershave.
“Do you know any Mexican bakeries in town?” he asks, “I’m sure yours is good, but I really need the cake today.” He puts his hands on his hips and you’re momentarily distracted by the way his shirt stretches, the buttons hanging on for dear life as his wide shoulders spread even more.
“Sorry,” you reply, “there’s not exactly a big Mexican community in this town, so no bakeries that do Tres Leches regularly. Maybe you can find another cake that will suit the occasion?”
The man drops his head, briefly looking at the toes of his dress shoes before he meets your eyes again, his brow furrowed.
“It’s got to be a Tres Leches, sorry.”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you,” you say, shrugging and expecting him to turn around and leave. But instead he remains in front of the counter, looking at you as you start straightening the cups on the counter, just to have something to do, the man’s intense gaze is unnerving.
“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, sharp enough for you to startle, and his eyebrows shoot up, “Sorry, that wasn’t at you. And thanks anyway.”
He turns and yanks open the front door, exiting out onto the street where he stops, looking left and right before glancing back at you through the window. He locks eyes with you for a beat, and then he stalks off, long legs in tight jeans disappearing down the street.
He stays on your mind for the rest of the afternoon, not because of the need for a specific cake, but because of the way he’d reacted to being denied it, disappointment that seemed to hit something more than just missing out on what, you supposed, was a special request from someone close to him. Women, especially brides-to-be, could be very emotional and stressed about the specifics of their cakes, but you’d never heard a man curse when he couldn’t get the cake he wanted. You wonder if you should maybe make a Tres Leches cake, just in case he comes back, but decide against it. There are plenty of bakeries in town capable of making them instead of you, he’s probably not even coming back to your bakery anyway.
By the next day you’ve forgotten about him, the day running past fast as your shop assistant handles the steady flow of customers that Saturday’s always bring. You’re busy in the kitchen baking the last batches for Sunday and planning the week ahead, getting your orders in. As a spur of the moment decision, you add a couple of cans of evaporated milk and condensed milk, the Tres Leches man popping up in your mind as you scroll through the whole seller's website. .
On late Sunday afternoon you start cleaning the shop and the kitchen, the foot traffic always dies down the last hour before closing on Sundays and you send your shop assistant home.You use the last hour to reset everything for Tuesday, Monday being your day off.
The sound of the bell on the front door rings as you’re on your hands and knees in the kitchen, wiping out the back of a counter under your workbench.
“I’ll be out in a second,” you call out to the customer.
“No rush,” a dark voice comes back to you, the Texan lilt familiar. You stand up so fast you almost bang your head on the bottom of the shelf, stumbling to your feet and smoothing down your apron and your hair. There’s a small mirror on the wall just by the door into the shop, so you give yourself a quick glance, hastily wiping the sweat off your forehead and rubbing away a dusting of flour on your cheek.
“Hi,” you say as you step into the shop, “how can I help you? I’m afraid I still don’t have any Tres Leches cake.”
The handsome man is still wearing jeans so tight they look painted on, but this time they’re a light wash denim and his short sleeved shirt is white, the yellow aviators hanging even lower in the deep V of his chest.
“I wanted to apologize for that,” he says, stepping up to the counter, “And I’d like to order one, if that’s alright?”
“Sure, that’s fine, I’m closed tomorrow but I could have it for you by Tuesday afternoon if that works?”
“Whatever suits you,” he replies, some of his earlier confidence coming back as he not too subtly lets his eyes give you a once over. “I’m sure it’s worth waiting for.”
“Didn’t seem like it on Friday,” you say, biting your tongue as the words slip out. The man gives you an unreadable look, you’re not sure if he's insulted or not.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, “that was uncalled for, I’m sure you had stuff going on that made the cake an essential part of your Friday.
“No, I apologize, I was rude,” he replies, shaking his head, “I was just having a bad day, I…” he trails off, rubbing a large hand over his clean shaven cheeks under his neat mustache, dropping his eyes to the floor before he looks up at you, his eyes suddenly doleful and tired, “I’ve just been a bit homesick lately, and Tres Leches was my mom’s favorite cake, and mine too, she used to make it for my birthday. She passed a few years ago and I just wanted to be reminded of her.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’d be very happy to make you one, but it probably won’t be as good as your mom’s.”
“I look forward to trying it though,” he gives you a crooked smile, “All your stuff here looks delicious.” He waves his hand over the display case but he’s looking at you and your apron suddenly feels very warm around your body.
“S-so Tuesday afternoon works for you?” you ask, clearing your throat and the man nods with a smile, like he knows the effects his looks, and his tight jeans, are having on you.
“What name should I put on the order form?” you ask as you grab a pen to fill it in.
“Javier Peña,” the man replies, stepping forward and leaning on his forearms on the counter, watching you note down his name, “I think you should write down my number too,” he says, looking up at you, “just in case you need to call me, for whatever reason.”
The image of a baby cow looking up at you through thick lashes flits across your mind as he smiles, his eyes are deep brown and suddenly very innocent looking despite the very suggestive tone of his voice.
“Oh you’re good,” you chuckle, letting him take the pen and jot down his number, “Do you really want the cake, or are you just flirting?”
“Can’t I do both, cariño?” he grins, pushing off from the counter and winking at you as he comes to his full height, making you look up at him again.
“Sure, but you’re only getting the cake,” you smile back at him and now it’s his turn to chuckle, a dimple on his cheek as he regards you with a playful look.
“I’ll be happy with just the cake, but I’ll keep hoping,” he replies, still grinning as he pats down his jeans, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, “What do I owe you?”
“Pay on delivery,” you say and he arches one of his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk.
“So that’s how I get you to use my number, will you chase me down if I don’t turn up on Tuesday?”
“Something tells me you’re used to women chasing you down,” you say, trying to keep your heartbeat under control as he cocks his head, another arched eyebrow, “so I should probably just play it cool and count on your turning up for the cake.”
“When do you close up on Tuesday?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up, as he puts away his wallet.
“Seven, but the cake will be done before then,” you reply and he nods.
“I’ll be here before seven,” he says, “you can count on it, cariño.” He winks at you again and you curse the butterflies that immediately take flight in your belly.
He gives you a wave as he takes a nonchalant step back towards the door before turning, his tight jeans giving you a perfect view of his tiny butt, you’ve really never seen any guy wear jeans that tight and you can’t help but let your eyes linger.
‘Really…’ you think to yourself, ‘how does he even walk down the stairs in those jeans?’
A Tres Leches gets better the longer it can sit in the fridge and absorb all the liquid that’s poured over it, so you get started as soon as Javier leaves. By the time you’ve cleaned up the kitchen and done your usual Sunday night prep, the sponge cake is cooling on the counter.
Ordinarily you wouldn’t come in on your day off but the Tres Leches needs three types of milk poured over it, so at lunchtime on Monday you stick your key in the lock and turn off the alarm to the shop.
“Hey, I thought you weren’t open today?” a deep voice says behind your back just as you punch in the code.
“Oh shit!” you shriek and spin around, your hand on your heart, as Javier’s hands come out to steady you.
“So jumpy, cariño,” he chuckles, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You’re sneaky, jeez,” you gasp, hitting the off button on the alarm that’s still beeping, “please, give a girl a warning before you jump out like that.”
He follows you into the shop, apologizing again as you flick the lights on.
“I’m sorry, I was just on my way to grab some lunch and I saw you open up the shop, I wanted to say hi and thank you for making the cake,” he smiles and you feel his hand come out and gently brush over the small of your back as you walk past him into the kitchen. The warmth of his hand makes you stutter, trying to keep your cool at his proximity.
“T-that’s fine, but the cake isn’t done yet,” you say, “and the shop isn’t open, I’m just here to pour the milk mixture on it.”
“You should’ve told me to pick it up on Wednesday instead, I don’t want to make you work on your day off,” Javier says, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen as you open the fridge and take out the cake.
“It’s fine, this is quick, I’ll be done in ten minutes, then I’m leaving again,” you say as he watches you with those dark eyes, they follow you around the kitchen as you take out a pan and the three types of milk needed.
“You have plans for the afternoon?” he asks, crossing his arms and the blue shirt stretches tight across his shoulders. You can’t help but glance at the way it hugs his biceps and he notices, his body settling into the pose a little bit more, thick fingers drumming against the taught fabric over his arm as he smiles at you.
“Yeah, I have a date at the fair,” you say, pouring the milk into the pan and turning on the heat, from the corner of your eye you see him shift and straighten up a little.
“A date huh…” he says, “Your boyfriend?”
“No, just a blind date, a friend set us up,” you reply, stirring the condensed milk into the regular milk.
“Ok, I hope you have a nice time then,” Javier says, his brow furrowed, standing up and thumping his fist lightly on the doorframe, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’ll come by for the cake tomorrow, have a nice afternoon.”
He abruptly turns and you hear his footsteps retreat through the shop before you have a chance to say goodbye, leaving you surprised at his sudden departure. After finishing the cake and cleaning up the kitchen again, you leave the shop and lock up. Javier’s sudden departure still seems strange to you, you don’t know him at all, but he’d suddenly seemed offended by your date, even jealous. He’s a flirt, and you couldn’t help flirting back a little, but you really don’t think he’d be jealous of your blind date. Would he be?
The next day you’re not sure if he’ll come for his cake after all, but you are hoping he will. The blind date had been a miserable affair and you bowed out after suffering through a painful hour of stilted small talk about small business taxes. Javier’s crooked grin and tight jeans had been on your mind throughout the afternoon as your date droned on..
Towards the end of the day you take the cake out and cover it in whipped cream and decorate it with fresh strawberries. And thankfully, a few minutes before seven the doorbell jangles and you look up to see Javier walk through the door, giving your heart a little jolt of excitement. But although he’s not exactly scowling, the yellow aviators cover his eyes and the corners of his mouth are downturned under the edges of his neat mustache. It’s a stark contrast to the bright pink shirt he’s wearing today, the color clashing with the apparent mood he’s in.
“Hi Javier,” you say, giving him what you hope is your flirtiest look, wanting to coax him back to the flirtiness he’d displayed on previous visits, “I guess I won’t need your number after all,” you say, giving him a sweet smile as you watch his lips quirk up in response.
“Maybe you should hang on to it, in case that new boyfriend doesn’t work out,” he smirks, coming up to the counter and leaning on the display case, long legs in tight jeans casually crossed as he gives you an appreciative glance up and down. You’d removed your apron a little bit earlier, changed into a nicer top, fixed your hair, only stopping yourself as you considered adding lipstick.
“No, that was a bad date,” you scrunch up your nose at him, “I had to make up an excuse after an hour.”
“Too bad,” he says but his crooked grin leaves you in no doubt about the fact that he’s very much not sorry about the failed date, “You should’ve let me take you out instead, I would’ve made sure you didn’t need any excuse to leave.” He gives you a quick wink, taking off his aviators, and you feel your cheeks heat up as he smirks and swipes a thumb over his bottom lip.
“About that cake, querida?”
The casual pet name ramps up the heat in your cheeks another notch and you’re grateful for the chance to turn around and head for the kitchen.
“Yeah, sure, let me get it,” you throw over your shoulder and yank the fridge door open, carefully sliding the cake box out.
“Here, I boxed it for you, but have a look, make sure it’s what you wanted,” you say, putting the box in front of him as you get back to the counter
“I’m sure it’s perfect,” he replies, but he still slips the paper lip from its hold and flips up the lid. He looks down at it for a beat and the casual confidence slips from his face, replaced by something you can’t place, almost as if he suddenly disappears from the shop, finding himself in another setting, looking at another cake.
“Is…is it as you expected?” you ask timidly when he doesn’t move, his eyes still on the cake, and he blinks and looks up at you, his eyes soft and warm.
“It’s perfect, just perfect, thank you,” he replies, his tone suddenly sincere and raw in a way you didn’t expect, it’s just a cake. But he looks down at the cake again and there’s a play of emotions across his face, as if the thoughts in his head are dancing across his features in the space of a few heart beats. You let him have his moment and carefully start tidying up the counter around the till and turn to start cleaning the espresso machine when he clears his throat.
“This is…uhmm…” he trails off and you look back at him, he’s still got his eyes on the cake but as he rubs a large hand over his jaw he looks up at you, “Do you wanna have a coffee with me? And some cake?”
“You wanna cut the cake now?” you ask surprised, you thought it was for a special occasion but he nods.
“Yeah, as a thank you for going out of your way to make it, coming in on your day off and everything,” he gives you a nod towards the coffee machine and grabs a couple of plates from the counter, “Although I should really be serving you but that coffee machine looks pretty advanced.”
“I’d love to have coffee and cake with you, Javier. But are you sure you want to cut it now? I thought it was for something special?”
“It was, or it is,” he says, coming round the counter with the cake and putting it next to you. “My mom used to make it for me and on Friday it was ten years ago since she passed….”
He pauses and adjusts the cake with one hand, the other hooked into the pocket of his jeans, fingers drumming against his leg as you wait for him to continue.
“I was feelin’ kinda homesick, wanted something to remind me of her,” he clears his throat, looking up at you again as you put down the cloth you’ve been wiping the machine with. His mood on Friday makes sense now, but you never would’ve you have guessed the reason behind it, and you push down the urge to put your hand on his arm. But he seems to shake out of his reverie and he gives you a crooked smile.
“So how about that coffee, cariño?”
“Sure,” you smile back at him and you see his eyes soften again, “How do you take it?”
“Strong and black,” he replies, “Show me where you keep the knives and I’ll get us some cake, at least I can serve you that.”
You show him and he gives a low hum when he slides the first slice onto a plate, “It smells just like I remember.”
“Good, I hope the taste reminds you of her too,” you smile. It feels like he’s a different person now, still confident and flirty, and dangerously handsome, but you’re seeing a more human side, something underneath his winks and smirks as you watch him expertly wipe the knife and cut another clean edged slice and slide it onto the plate.
“If you ever need a part time job, let me know, with those cake skills I’d let you serve my customers,” you remark, jumping up onto the counter next to where Javier’s standing.
He snorts at your comment, picking up one of the plates and hands it to you, “Trust me, cariño, you don’t want me anywhere near your customers.”
“No, true, those tight jeans might be a bit distracting for female guests,” you say, “I’d never get anything sold.”
You bite your tongue, trying to stop your giggle, as you see his eyes widen, the spoon hoovering in the air over his cake slice as he tries to process your words.
“Really, cariño,” he says eventually, shaking his head as he pushes the spoon into the cake, “I didn’t think you minded them, considering the way you’ve been staring at my ass,” he gives you a wink as he puts the spoon in his mouth.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, I know how distracting they are,” you laugh, “It’s a good thing you left yesterday, I would’ve messed up the cake if you’d kept hanging around my kitchen in those jeans.”
Javier hums, distracted by the cake as he looks down on it, waving his spoon at it as he chews and swallows.
“This is delicious, cariño, just as good as my moms, it tastes just like hers.”
“Thanks, that’s the best compliment I could get,” you smile at him, taking a mouthful of the cake for yourself as Javier reaches for the cup of coffee you’ve placed next to him.
“Mhm…” he grunts, “strong coffee and Tres Leches, best thing I’ve had in a long time, hermosa.”
He smiles at you over the edge of the cup, his chocolate brown eyes making you feel flustered as he keeps eye contact when he’s put the cup down.
“Relly, the best I’ve had in a very long time…” he says, “and the best company I’ve had in a long time too. Tell me, would I really distract you that much in the kitchen?” He takes another spoonful of cake and keeps his eyes on you, staring you down as he cocks his hip and leans on the counter, suddenly very close, making your nerves thrum just under your skin. You can smell the cake on his breath, the coffee from the cup on the counter and his faded aftershave, still lingering on the collar of his pink shirt.
“You…I-I think you know what you do with those tight jeans, Javier,” you reply and his lips quirk up in response, the corner of his mustache twitching as his eyes move down to your lips and linger there.
“Why don’t you tell me, cariño?” he smirks, “What do my tight jeans do?”
You almost roll your eyes at him, the confidence is oozing off him but you can’t deny that he can back it up as he parts his soft looking lips and moves around your legs, stepping in between them, trapping you up on the counter. Your breath hitches as he looks up at you again, his eyes leaving your lips as the tip of his tongue comes out and lightly wets his own.
Quietly inhaling, you decide attack is the best tactic, and reach out, putting your hand around the back of Javier’s head.
“Are you going to talk about your jeans or kiss me, Javier?” you ask, and you just have time to see the glint in his eyes, before he leans forward.
His hand comes up and grabs your jaw, cupping your cheek as his thumb moves across your lips, holding it for a beat before he’s on you. His lips are as soft as they look, molding to your mouth, gently probing to let him in. Your hand tangles into the thick hair at the back of his head, holding on as he pushes forward, widening your legs around his hips, pressed against the cupboard. With a low moan you part your lips to his tongue and he responds, a groan, as he wraps his free arm around your waist, his hand finding your hip and pulling you towards him. The jeans do nothing to hide his growing arousal as you slide right up against his crotch, his kisses are soft but the way he holds you tight, is heated.
You hook your hand into his belt loop and tug him closer, feeling him roll his hips against you as the taste of the cake and his strong coffee overpowers your senses, his tongue sliding around yours. He’s exploring, his large hand sliding over your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your skin and finding spots that make you moan and tremble under his touch. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that a gentle nip on your lower lip makes you arch your back and press into him. He makes the most of it as his hand slides up to splay flat over your shoulder blades, holding you close as he continues to explore your mouth..
Heat is making your core ache, he’s hard against you, the texture of the denim rubbing against you with each lazy roll of his hips and you have to pant into his mouth, pulling back from him to catch your breath.
Javier kisses the corner of your mouth as you tip your head back with a groan, drawing a deep breath, and then moves over your jaw, his teeth scraping over your skin, his tongue coming out to taste and lick as he trails kisses down to your neck. When he sinks his teeth into the flesh just under your ear you whimper and grip hard at his hair, hearing him groan against you. He places a wet kiss on the mark his teeth have left and straightens up, looking down at you with half closed eyes.
“I fucking hated that blind date guy,” Javier growls, still standing close enough for you to feel every twitch of his hard length between your legs, “I should’ve told you to ditch him and asked you to come out with me instead.”
“I would’ve ditched him, Javier,” you reply, letting your fingers trail over his five o’clock shadow and brush the edge of his mustache.
“So let me take you out tonight instead, finish what we started, cariño.”
His hands are distracting, one rubbing firm circles over your back, down to your hips, kneading the soft flesh. The other one still on your neck, caressing your cheek, your hair, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as he keeps his eyes locked on yours.
“I have to get up at three am, Javier,” you whisper, his lips finding yours again and you lose your train of thought.
“Rain check,” he mumbles against your mouth, “What are you doing on Sunday night? You don’t work on Mondays.”
“There’s this guy,” you reply, smiling as he pulls back a fraction to look down at you, one eyebrow raised, “He wears these really tight jeans and I think I should find out if he’s got the goods to back them up”.
“Oh he does,” Javier growls, tugging you closer and making you open your mouth to his eager tongue, pulling a breathless moan from you as he wraps his arms around you again.
Part Seven
Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn
#javier pena#javier peña#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfiction#javier pena fluff#javier pena fic#javier pena x reader
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Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Two
Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Two
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader
Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.
Trigger warnings: Language, Flirty Bradley, Sassy Bob, Talks of the supernatural, Mentions of drowning, An almost fight?, Possessive behavior, Jake Seresin. I think that's it?
Word Count: 3.4k
A/N: So tomorrow I leave town for a couple of days! I don't know how much I'll be able to post until Saturday or Sunday, but I'll do my best! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!
Series Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List
You awoke feeling groggy, eyes blinking against the stream of sunlight that filtered through the window. You didn’t remember drinking enough last night to feel this hungover. No, you were sure you’d only had the two whiskey cokes, not nearly enough to make you feel this way. Perhaps it was the drive catching up with you. Yeah, that had to be it.
You slowly sat up, head throbbing as you caught a glimpse of the ocean outside your window. You thought back to the silver tail you had seen disappear beneath the waves.
“What a weird dream,” you muttered, shaking your head. You moved to get up, quickly getting dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts combo before heading downstairs to the kitchen.
Bob was already munching away at the plate of bacon Susan had set out, the older woman flipping over a pancake on the stove.
“Robert Floyd, you better save some bacon for everyone else,” she warned without even a glance over her shoulder at him. Bob paused mid-chew to stare wide-eyed at her back before seeing you at the doorway, a grin already on your lips.
“Yeah, Robert,” you giggled, “save some for the rest of us.”
He scowled at you as Susan turned to smile warmly at you.
“Good morning, dear!” She beamed. “How did you sleep?”
You sat down at the island next to Bob just as Susan placed a plate at the same spot.
“I had the craziest dream last night,” you hummed, stealing a piece of bacon off of Bob’s plate, earning yourself an unamused look from said man.
“Oh yeah?” Susan asked. “What about?”
“Well,” you started, chewing on your bite of bacon, “I dreamed that I woke up last night and heard a weird song.”
“What?” Bob laughed, looking over at you. You giggled, continuing.
“Yeah! And it was weird because it sounded like a weird mix between a human and a whale. And when I got up, I went to look out the window, and I saw a giant silver tail disappear into the water!”
Bob’s chewing slowed to a stop as the smile dropped from his face, and Susan stiffened by the stove. Your eyes darted between the two of them.
“Did I say something wrong?” You asked them, unsure as to what had them so tense. Bob shook his head with a reassuring smile.
“No, of course not,” he told you. Susan relaxed her shoulders and turned to you with an apologetic look.
“It seems I’ll have to have a talk with my husband about him and his stories,” she said, a look of annoyance passing over her face.
You shook your head. “Oh, it’s no worries! I’m sure I just drank too much last night. That coupled with the drive here, I’m sure it was nothing.”
Susan looked at you for a beat longer before turning back to her pancakes. Bob huffed a laugh as he took another bite of his breakfast. “Dad is so getting his ass chewed out later.”
“Hey!” Susan barked, whipping back around to point her spatula at him. “Language, mister.”
“Sorry, Mom,” he blushed, ducking his head sheepishly. You laughed at the two of them before bumping your shoulder into his.
“So what’s the plan for today?” You asked. Bob perked up at your question.
“Oh!” He chirped. “I figured we could go hang out with Mickey and Nat today. The others are going to be busy setting up for the festival, so it’ll just be the four of us.”
“Sounds great!” You smiled. “Any specific plans?”
“You should take her to see the different shops!” Susan suggested over her shoulder.
Bob rolled his eyes with a grimace. “The tourist traps?”
“Not all of them are tourist traps, Bobby,” she chided. “Besides, maybe she’ll find something she likes while you’re there. A souvenir for the summer!”
You stared at the porcelain figurine intently. It reminded you of the one sitting on your dresser back home, except this mermaid was mid-song, her red lips parted like she was crooning.
“I told you it was a tourist trap,” Bob muttered beside you. You looked up at him with a grin.
“Nah, it’s cute,” you giggled. “I love mermaids, remember?”
“I know a couple someones who will love to hear that,” Mickey muttered with a smirk, crying out when Nat elbowed him in the rib.
“What do you mean?” You ask, brow furrowing at him. Nat smiled at you, pushing past the scowling man at her side.
“Nothing,” she said. “Have you found anything you like yet?”
You hummed, glancing around the store. “No, not yet. I don’t know if I want a souvenir from a shop, anyway. I think I’d prefer collecting seashells from the beach.”
“Perhaps you’ll get lucky and catch the eye of a handsome merman,” the older shopkeeper said. Your group turned to look at her, her eyes twinkling.
“Oh, yeah?” You giggled. You faltered when you saw the others frowning at the old woman, but she continued on.
“Oh my, yes,” she smiled. “The legend goes that every year the sea people undergo what can only be described as a mating season. They seek out a partner for the summer, satiating their hunger. That’s what the festival celebrates, after all. But every five years, an individual will undergo a much more intense version, seeking out a permanent mate. It’s called the frenzy.”
“Why do they call it that?” You ask her, curiosity getting the better of you.
The old woman chuckled. “Simply put? The sea people will go crazy trying to find and stake claim to their chosen mate. The desire nearly drives them mad, turning them into the monsters the legends claim them to be.”
“What do you mean by mate?”
“Just that, dear child. During the frenzy is when a sea person picks their life partner. It’s an irreversible bond.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Nat frowned, grabbing your elbow. She shot a glare at the old woman before tugging you towards the door. “We need to get going.”
“But I still have questions!” You cried, stumbling out the door after her. The bell above the door rang as the four of you exited onto the sidewalk. All around, people were setting up for the summer long festival. Banners were being hung up over the streets and decorations lined the sidewalks, mermaids covering nearly every surface you looked at.
Nat dropped her grip from your arm, and you scowled at her.
“What was that for?” You grumbled, rubbing at your arm. “It was just getting interesting!”
“Mrs. Cambroni needs to learn when to shut her mouth,” she huffed, glaring back at the door. Bob slung an arm around your shoulder with a small smile.
“They’re just stories, anyway,” he told you, hugging you close. “Besides, you’ll have all summer to learn about the town legends. We’re here to have fun, remember?”
“I thought you said it was impossible to have fun in a small town?” You teased him, anger quickly melting as you all began making your way down the sidewalk. He rolled his eyes playfully at you.
“I did not say that.”
“You definitely implied it.”
“Alright,” he grinned. “You got me there.”
“Do you guys wanna go get ice cream?” Mickey asked, looking over his shoulder from where he walked next to Nat.
You perked up. “Ice cream sounds amazing!”
After securing your double scoop of rocky road, you followed the others back down the street as they argued over what to do next.
“But they have some really good movies out!” Mickey exclaimed, and Nat rolled her eyes at him.
“There are way better things we could do than go see a damn movie,” she snarked.
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“We could take one of the boats out?” Bob suggested.
Nat smiled as Mickey scowled.
“And do what?” The other man huffed.
“Obviously, we would be swimming,” Nat shot back at him. You giggled as the three continued to argue amongst themselves.
“Hey! If it isn’t the three stooges plus y/n!”
All four of you looked up to see Bradley leaning off a ladder holding a banner in his hands. He was grinning widely, shirt nowhere to be seen. Below him, holding the ladder, was the blond man, Jake, from the bar the night before. He was also shirtless, and his green eyes were already on you, and you felt your cheeks heat up. You prayed none of your ice cream had made a home on your face. Javy and Reuben came walking out of the nearest building carrying another banner and also missing their shirts.
“Hey meatheads,” Nat huffed with a roll of her eyes. “Where are your shirts?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Bradley drawled, rolling his eyes back at her, “It’s like a billion degrees out here. A man’s gotta keep cool, ain’t that right, sunshine?”
You giggled as he shot a wink at you, and you noticed as Jake clenched his jaw at the exchange. Bradley hopped off the ladder and strolled over towards the rest of you with the blond right behind him, eyes still trained on you.
“What do you guys have planned for the rest of the day?” Reuben asked. Nat swung an arm around your shoulder.
“We’re gonna teach Skipper here how to drive a boat,” she grinned.
“Skipper?” You questioned, raising your eyebrow. She nodded excitedly, and Bradley hummed, looking at you thoughtfully.
“I like it,” he decided with a nod. “It suits you.”
“Whatever that means,” you mumbled. Mickey put his hands on his hips as he glared at the brunette beside you.
“I thought we were going swimming?” He demanded.
Nat dropped her arm from around your shoulder, crossing her arms in front of her. “We are, but we’re going to teach Skipper how to captain a boat first. Besides, I thought you didn’t want to go?”
You watched as the two began to bicker amongst themselves again. If you hadn’t known any better, you would think the two hated each other. Bob walked off to help Reuben, Bradley, and Javy hang up the other banner a little ways down the street. You felt someone step up beside you, and you turned to see Jake still looking down at you.
“Hi,” he said softly, smirking. “I don’t think we were ever properly introduced. I’m Jake.”
You smiled up at him shyly. “I’m y/n, but I guess it’s Skipper now.”
He let out a chuckle as he leaned in closer to you. You felt your heartbeat quicken, and the way his smirk grew wider made you think that maybe he could hear it. You shook off the thought, putting all of your effort into maintaining some semblance of rationale.
“You know,” he hummed, eyes studying you, “Bradley isn’t right about a lot of things, but he is right about that.”
“What?” You breathed, eyes becoming hooded. You could have sworn you saw the glow in his eyes again as they bore into yours. Your head began to feel lighter the longer you stared at him, a yearning tugging you towards him. His breath fanned over you as he leaned in closer.
“Skipper!”
You jumped, taking a stumbling step back, nearly falling as someone caught you. You thought you heard a growl as your head began to throb. You looked up to see that it was Bob who had his arms around you, keeping you steady. His eyes were trained in a glare past where you stood, and you turned to see Bradley and Javy on either side of Jake. If looks could kill, Bob would be six feet under already. Jake’s jaw was clenched so tight, you wouldn’t be surprised if his teeth were cracked. Green eyes stared intently at Bob, whose gaze didn’t waver from his friends.
“Bob?” You questioned, the bespectacled man looking down at you. “What happened?”
“Uh,” he started, seeming to be unsure as to how to respond.
“Bob bumped into you on accident, and you almost fell,” Natasha smiled, stepping forward to take you out of Bob’s arms. You saw Jake relax a little out of the corner of your eye, but your head was still too fuzzy to pay it much mind.
“Why is everyone so angry?” You asked her, your voice sounding weak and uncertain even to you. She smiled gently down at you as she sat you down on the steps by the sidewalk.
“It’s just a combination of the heat and good old-fashioned testosterone,” she explained, patting your back soothingly. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“My head,” you trailed off, rubbing at your temples.
“Here,” Reuben smiled at you, offering you a bottle of water. You took it with a grateful smile, taking small sips from the bottle.
“Feeling better?” Mickey asked you, brows pinched in worry. You smiled and gave him a nod.
“Much,” you said, looking around at the group who looked back at you worriedly.
You sighed. “I’m sorry, everyone.”
“What on earth for?” Asked Javy.
Grimacing, you responded, “For making everyone worry about me.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Skipper,” Bradley assured you, smiling at you reassuringly. “The heat gets to the best of us. Isn’t that right, Jake?”
Bradley clapped the blond on the shoulder, giving him a pointed look. Jake frowned, letting out a muttered “yeah” as he looked away.
“Do you wanna call it a day?” Mickey asked you, and you shook your head.
“I’d still like to go swimming if that’s okay.”
“You sure?” Bob asked you, eyes still full of worry. You smiled back at him with a nod.
“Absolutely!”
“You should be careful,” Jake spoke up, and you turned to look at him. The anger was still in his eyes, but it had calmed significantly. An unreadable expression now graced his face. “A storm is coming.”
“How do you know?” You asked him, brow furrowing.
“He’s right,” Javy said as Reuben and Bradley nodded. “A storm is on the way.”
“We’ll be extra careful,” Nat promised them, helping you to your feet. “Scout’s honor!”
Bradley chuckled at her mock salute before shooting you another wink. “Maybe we’ll catch up with you guys later?”
“If not tonight, then we’ll see you at the bonfire tomorrow!” Mickey hollered as you, Nat, and Bob followed him down the sidewalk towards the docks.
“Don’t have too much fun without us!” Reuben called after you all.
“We’ll hold off on teaching Skipper how to drive the boat until you guys can join us!” Nat yelled back.
“Wait, you were serious about that?” You squawked, earning a chorus of laughter from your group.
A couple of hours later, you found yourself sitting on Mickey’s parent’s boat, the rock of the waves sending a wave of nerves up your spine as they became rougher. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to being on a boat. The sun had long been obscured by the grey clouds that seemed to have rolled in out of nowhere, but the others didn’t seem shocked by the sudden turn.
“How did they know it was going to storm?” You asked them, watching as darker clouds began to roll in.
“When you live by the ocean your whole life, you just get a sense for those types of things,” Nat told you as Mickey and Bob scrambled to get the boat ready to leave. You eyed the clouds wearily as Mickey cursed behind you.
“They’re never going to let us hear the end of it if they find out we stayed out this long,” he muttered.
Nat rolled her eyes. “So hurry up and get us back to shore before they do.”
Mickey scowled at her but continued with what he was doing. A couple of minutes later, and the waves were rocking the boat almost violently, and you found yourself gripping your seat anxiously.
“Alright, we’re ready!” Bob called from the side. Mickey started up the boat’s engine, and the vessel jerked as he began to maneuver it back to land. You hit a particularly rough wave, causing Nat to lose her balance and topple into the seats opposite yours.
“Easy, Mickey!” She snapped, glaring at the man.
“I’m taking her as easy as I can!” He hollered back at her, a look of worry flashing across his face as the boat dipped into the waves. A gush of water hit you, and your arms flew up to shield your face. At that same moment, another wave knocked into the boat, causing you to fly over the side as you jerked back from the wall of water to your front.
“Y/n!” You heard someone shout, Bob maybe, but it was too late.
The water swallowed you whole, gripping you in its clutches as you scrambled to get your bearings. The water was dark, and you began to panic as you realized you couldn’t tell which was up and which way was down. Your arms thrashed around you as you fought for air, but it was no use. Your lungs ached and burned from lack of oxygen, and you felt a sense of dread as you realized that you were about to die. You stopped fighting, feeling a sense of acceptance at your fate. Your vision began to darken as you let your mind drift off. You hoped your parents wouldn’t mourn you for too long and hoped desperately that your friends wouldn’t blame themselves.
You were just about to enter unconsciousness when you heard an eerily familiar song. The sound of a human and a whale mixed together pulled at you, getting closer with each passing second. It was strange what the mind came up with to calm itself in its last moments. You felt a pair of strong, muscular arms wrap around you, lifting you up, your bare legs brushing against what felt like scales. Of course your mind would turn to mermaids in the end. Maybe you’d be reborn as one in your next life. You hoped as much, at the very least.
Your head broke the surface, rain pelting your face as small waves of water rushed up to you.
“C’mon, darlin’,” a voice called to you from far off, “stay with me.”
You felt the water rush up out of your lungs as you hacked and coughed, clutching weakly at whoever held you. You groaned, head falling forward, resting on a solid chest. The arms around you gripped you tighter, and you heard the song again, this time sounding much more desperate and sorrowful than last time. It was the last thing you heard before you fell unconscious.
You weren’t sure how long you were out for, but you felt the last few rays of the sun wash over you as you came to. You were vaguely aware of the solid rock underneath you and the gentle fingertips that grazed your forehead. You heard short bursts of the song, this time coming from the person hovering over you. It put you at ease, but you so desperately wanted to see who the song belonged to.
You slowly tried to pry your eyes open, head protesting as it gave a particularly sharp throb. You winced, and the man above you cooed at you. You managed to open your eyes just long enough to catch a glimpse of the glowing green that stared down at you, entrancing you.
“Sleep,” the man sang, and you obediently let your eyes fall closed. The man’s fingertips ran down the side of your face and to your neck. He turned your head to expose more of your neck, lips brushing over the base where it met your shoulder. You let out a whimper at the pleasant feeling, and the man hushed you softly. You were surprised at how good it felt, and you found yourself arching up into his touch.
The man continued to nuzzle at you, and you heard the vague sound of your name coming from off in the distance. You whined for the man, silently begging for more of his touch, and you felt him smirk against you.
“Skipper!”
The voices were louder now, and you heard the man let out an inhuman snarl. You cried out in pain as you felt a prick of what you assumed were teeth pierce your skin. The pain was quickly dulled by the feel of a tongue laving over the small wound. The man pulled away from you, and you reached for him weakly, opening your eyes just enough to see the flash of silver scales disappear back into the sea.
#top gun maverick#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x you#jake seresin x you#top gun hangman#jake seresin fic#jake seresin fanfiction#jake hangman seresin imagine#hangman#hangman fanfiction#hangman x reader#hangman imagine#hangman x you#hangman seresin x reader#hangman seresin#hangman top gun#mmats#meet me at the sea
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022: last selfie before we die and i didn’t even look good
light a flame [22/51]
previous | masterlist | next
☆ summary: when your roommate quits his job at the coffee shop you frequent you never imagined the new guy would be hot or even your type. to make matters worse you both study law at the same university.
your friends to try to convince you to get together with him. you try to convince them you just find him really nice... but are you able to convince yourself?
group chat names:
all the texts from the group chat "inter(han)tion" happen from mingyu's perspective. Everything else is from yn or wonwoo's perspective. the names are as follows:
beastiality? - hoshi
maybe in a year or two? - seungkwan
it happened once in a dream - vernon
zero rizz - woozi
☆ a/n: exciting news!! the next two chapters are sort of bonus chapters (?) (you'll see), so i'll post one tomorrow and one on saturday cause it didn't feel right to post them as a normal update😭
i hope you enjoyed this part, and i always appreciate likes, comments and reblogs!
fill out this form to be added to the taglist!
#jeon wonwoo#wonwoo x reader#seventeen x reader#svt#svt x reader#svt smau#wonwoo au#seventeen#wonwoo smau#wonwoo svt scenarios#wonwoo#seventeen au#seventeen smau#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo fluff
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Partners in Death...and Life
Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You: part ii
|Part 5: Gimpse of Me and You: Part i| Part 6: Radio's Last Broadcast|
|Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist|
Pairings: Alastor x wife! Reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationships, Asexual! Alastor, Reader is in hell for a reason
Here it is! The second half of this chapter. Finally finished. Some parts are a little bit rough but I'll be away tomorrow, so I decided to post it now. I'll just edit it here and there.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
1932
Alastor is playing the piano.
The wooden door does nothing to muffle how feverishly his fingers glide over the keys, joining together to create a harmony of melodies. Was it a coincidence that Alastor presses the keys in the exact sequence of notes of the song you are currently calling your favorite? Maybe, but gosh does it ignite the most stupid smile in you.
You press your back into the front door, listening to Alastor play the piano. His music flows into the air, and reverberates out the walls. Part of you thinks it calls out for you. If you strain your ears, you can hear Alastor mumble the lyrics. You run a hand over your face, still with that stupid and wide smile. Unfair. Too unfair. How foul of him to hang such an expression on your face.
There’s no good reason to stay out here, seated in the cold. You should go inside. A warm bath and a proper meal await you. A simple twist of the doorknob, and you would receive all that and more…but…but Alastor is playing the piano. There’s even less of a reason to interrupt him, not when he there’s a tinge of joy when he sings into the air. So, you stay seated in the cold, eyes closed and numb fingers.
The tempo of the songs picks up, and Alastor doesn’t make a single wrong note. You could practically see him glide his fingers, pressing each key with perfection.
Two days…
It’s been two days since you’ve felt the traces of him. Two days since you caught sight of that brown hair, and stared into those two brown eyes that even the moon cannot compare to. It’s only a measly forty-eight hours, but even then, it was forty-eight hours too long since you washed the dishes with the person you swore to do so for the rest of your life. Forty-eight hours without being able to exist with him.
The music stops abruptly.
The door swings open, and your back smacks to the floor. You land between Alastor’s shoes, looking straight at him. He angles his head down, staring right back at you. There it is. It’s unfair, too unfair for him to possess a gaze that strikes you silly.
You smile at him.
He smiles back.
You don’t move—not yet. Not even when half your body sticks out the door.
“You are welcome to come inside, anytime,” he says, and his bangs hang in the air a bit. Alastor pushes his glasses up his nose. “Come on, I’ll heat up some food.”
You open your mouth to respond. There’s so much to say for you to say, so much you want him to know. But…huh…nothing can come out. It’s almost as if your brain refuses to produce any words.
Alastor sinks to his knees, reaching to poke your cheek. “You could have called me,” he says, shifting his hand to trail the back of his fingers down your face. “I would have gone to pick you up from work. All you needed to do was call for me.”
A smile is the only response you’re able to give.
Alastor hooks his arms underneath your armpits, dragging you across the floor. Your skin slides over the wood, squeaking with friction. Alastor drops you, not before safeguarding your head from the hard wooden floor. It’s the simplest of acts, but it's everything to you. He closes the front door with his foot.
Alastor lies next to you on this cold and hard floor. He nudges his head with yours, connecting you to him. “Hi.”
You can’t find the energy to say it back.
He inches closer, planting the softest of kisses on your forehead. His chapped lips prick your skin. You twist to face him, looking straight at him…just him and only him. You reach out to plant a hand on his cheek, caressing him with your thumb. The warmth of his face presses deeper into your palm.
You stay on this floor, even as the very hard and very solid wood aches your shoulder. But Alastor lies here as well, smiling next to you, and suddenly it doesn’t really matter where you are.
“Welcome home,” he says, peeling your hand off his face. He holds you, and pulls your hand closer to plant the smallest of kisses. “Are you planning on becoming our new doormat? Can you imagine that? Somewhere out there, in a different life, you and I are just a couple of doormats.”
And what a silly, silly man to imagine a world where even as a doormat, there will be him and there will be you, existing together as inanimate objects..
Alastor squeezes your hand, and his smile wobbles. “Talk to me?”
You squeeze back. “I…I heard you playing,” you say, because denying him will never be an ability available to you, not when he asks you in a voice that is oh so soft. “You were magnificent.”
Alastor’s smile brightens, and you know you did good. “Would you like to hear more?”
“Always and forever.”
He hops to his feet. Once more, Alastor hooks an arm underneath, and drags you across the floor, knowing very well that he has the strength to carry you properly. Your legs bump into the stray furniture. He lifts the upper half of your body high enough to sit you on the piano chair.
You lean into his side when he takes the seat next to you.
Alastor hovers his finger above the piano keys, taking one last glance at you. “When we turn old,” he sings, swaying a bit. “I hope we are never changing. Whenever and wherever we are, this is my dream.”
Alastor stills a bit, his fingers slowly pressing the keys. He looks at you with expectant eyes.
You smile at him, and bump your shoulders, singing along with a snort. “Will you be able to kiss me and hug me until we grow old?”
And there it is again, that bright smiles pointed at you and only you. “I’m just asking,” he sings, “will you still love me even when my hair turns gray?”
“That day will come when your hair will also turn gray,” you sing. It’s not as good as Alastor’s smoother and deeper voice, but you’re not embarrassed. Not one bit. Because why would you be? Deep down, somehow, you know he doesn’t care. “Together we will dream of our past.”
“I’ll remind you of my promise.” Alastor lifts his hand off the key, and boops your nose.
You laugh, pressing deeper into his side. What a silly, silly man to be married to.
“That my love is always yours,” he sings to you. “Even when my hair turns gray.”
The song ends too soon. Alastor lifts his hands from the keys.
You smile at him. “I didn’t know you knew how to play this,” you say. “When did you even learn?”
“Well, you kept singing it over and over and over again. It somehow got stuck in my head,” Alastor says. “I had some free time on my hands.”
You inch closer, pressing your lips on his cheek. “You are a wonderful singer, dearest.”
Alastor laughs. It’s breathy and light and the best thing you have ever heard. “Maybe I should sing for you more since you’re so keen on singing praises for me.” He grabs your hand. “Have I ever taught you how to play?”
You shake your head. “Not yet.”
Alastor presses on the keys, creating a perfect harmony. “Each key produces a specific sound.”
“I know that much!” you say, kicking his leg with a huff.
There are so many different keys on this piano. Each has their own special sound that it’s almost impossible to memorize them all. You copy Alastor’s form, and press down on a single key. The note reverberates across the air.
Alastor swats your hand with a strained smile. “What did our piano ever do to you?”
You blink at him, then at your hand, and take one, single, deep, breath. “Ooouuuuuccchhh!” you exclaim with the fakest of whines and place a hand on your forehead. “I don’t think I can ever recover from this, my love. My hand…Alastor…my hand! You hurt me! It hurts so much! It huuuuuurrrrts.”
Alastor rolls his eyes, but still, his smile never wavers. “I barely tapped you.”
You glare at him.
He glares back.
“Well, I’ll have you know that you deserved what you got,” he says, crossing his arms. “I give zero apologies to those who abuse pianos.”
You stare at him, and throw your hands into the air. “I just pressed it!”
“You did not ‘just press it’,” he tells you, pointing a finger at you. “You slammed your finger down on the key!”
You huff at him, crossing your arms. “I did no such thing,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You’re just exaggerating, and I will have you know, that really hurts.” (It didn’t. Not one bit.)
Alastor takes your hand he swatted, caressing your skin with his thumb. He brings it up to his mouth, pressing his lips. “You don’t need to press on it so harshly,” he says and hover your hand over the piano. He pushes your fingers with his own, and the piano sounds. “Gentle strokes will suffice.”
“Should I leave the two of you alone then?”
Alastor bumps your knees. “Funny.”
He keeps his hands hovering above yours, moving and pushing on your fingers to play specific notes like you were a puppet for him to control. With his guidance, you’re able to play different notes.
You twist one wrist, and intertwine your fingers around his.
Alastor slides gaze to you, raising an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to be teaching you how to play.”
“I think I’d rather watch you play.”
Alastor shakes his hand, but you only tighten your grip. “Let go,” he says. “I can’t play with one hand.”
You show him your most innocent smile. “Find a way.”
Alastor sighs, but plays with one hand. The sound isn’t as good as when he has full use of both, but that’s to be expected. There’s no more singing. Alastor presses his finger over a bunch of keys to create the most perfect harmony.
Alastor squeezes your hand, eyes still focused on the piano.
You stare at him, and squeeze back with a smile.
He turns to you with a smile that is oh so soft. His hand moves away from the piano and onto your face, the back of his fingers trailing down your cheek. “I…,” he begins, looking straight into your eyes, capturing your gaze. It was only ever his to catch. “I l…I think you need to wash your hair.”
Immediately, your lips twist into a frown, and you pull back your hand.
Why? Well…actually…you have no idea. There’s no good reason you can say as to why exactly.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that sleep has evaded you like a wildfire. Or how your stomach feels empty, but not grumbling empty that indicates hunger. But your stomach grumbled when you left work, and realistically, you haven’t eaten so you should be hungry. But you’re not hungry! And you don’t feel like eating. But also you’re kind of hungry? But you also kind of not. And at the same time—
You turn away from Alastor, walking away with a grumble.
Alastor calls out your name.
The way he says your name, the way it leaves his lips…it almost makes you turn back. Almost. But still—these eyes of yours. They glance back at him, and you swear they have a mind of their own.
Alastor buries his face into the piano keys. It causes a jumble of odd noises that mix with his own grumble.
You climb up the stairs, feet dragging and stomping up the steps. The bedroom door opens easily. Your fingers are still around the doorknob, and a question debates in your head.
…. Fine, you won’t lock the door. Maybe you should, but you don’t because doing so would mean Alastor stays locked out. You can’t do it. Not him—never him.
You plop into the bed, and scrape together enough energy to pull the blanket around you. It’s embracing warmth makes you realize how absolutely bone-deep tired you are.
It’s been two days, afterall. There’s only so much a person can tolerate. Take out meals used to be such a normal thing for you, but fuck Alastor and the meals that cooks. It’s his fault that you can never stomach another take out meal. You never want to see anything not home cooked again.
The pillows are heavenly. Too heavenly that you’re ready to pass out in your clothes. Two days of sleeping on hard chairs and empty hallways tend to do that to a person.
The door creaks open.
(If you smile into your pillow, then that’s your business.)
Footsteps creak the floorboards. The bed dips as Alastor props his legs across the bed. From underneath the blankets, you curl closer to him and him alone. And finally…you are home. Okay, yes maybe you are still a little ticked off, but it’s been days. Human beings were created with nuance, after all.
“Are you asleep?” Alastor asks. Part of you wonders what he looks like right now, in this moment of time.
You shake your head. And there it is again. Your brain refuses to allow your throat to utter even the smallest of words. Not that you were planning on talking to Alastor anyway.
Alastor tugs on the blanket. “Talk to me?”
Nothing comes out of your mouth. You refuse to scrape up the energy to speak to him. He made his bed, and now he gets to die on it. The audacity of him to say your hair stinks when you have to drag him by the ear to brush his own teeth!
“Do you want to sleep?”
You pause, then shake your head. Not yet. Sleep could wait, because Alastor is here, next to you, and this was too nice of a moment not to stretch.
Alastor tugs on the blanket once more. “I’m going to need words.”
You hum as a reply.
Alastor reaches inside the blanket, fiddling around until your hand brushes with his. He grabs it, and pulls it out of your cocoon, lying his palm directly on top of yours. The rings on your fingers clink together. Alastor traces your hand, the pads of his fingers going up and down the lines of your palm.
He taps you, then writes a H then an I….’Hi’
You smile deeper into where you press against him. Alastor squeezes your hand, and twists it to rest your fingers directly on top of his.
‘Hi’ you write into his skin, giggling a bit. Okay…well…hmmm. This isn’t technically speaking. So, you’ll allow this.
Alastor leans closer, the weight of him grounding you. Actually, him just being here, existing in this space with you, tethers you to this world. It’s too good to be home. So good you might never leave again. “Did you have a long day at work?”
‘Long day’ doesn’t capture it. Not one bit. But still, you trace your reply on his palm. ‘Yes.’
“Are you hungry?” Alastor asks you. Even from underneath the blanket, you feel how his other hand stretches to lay a hand on your head.
It’s a bit difficult to trace your reply when the answer is both a yes and no and ‘I don’t know’.
“An answer, please,” he says, pressing deeper. He’s practically on top of you. “Or are you not sure if you’re hungry?”
‘Yes.’
No more questions. You don’t have it in you to answer any more. So, you close your hand around his hand, using it as a lifeline. And oh…it’s shaking—you’re shaking. But, still, Alastor holds on to you.
Alastor squeezes your hand. “Yesterday, I realized that you make better coffee than I do!” he says and you can hear him smiling. “I did everything you do, and still it tasted like burnt bean water. It’s almost unfair. How can we both use the same beans and the same pot, but still produce an entirely different taste?”
You smile into your pillow, and press deeper into him.
Alastor caresses your hand, swaying his thumb up and down your skin. “And this morning, I completely gave up on making coffee, and since I arrived early for work, I bought a proper cup at this little stand,” he says. “They were selling salted pretzels. It was a bit pricey for such a simple thing, but I think you would enjoy it. Shall I take you there?”
A hum escapes your mouth as Alastor tells you about this day. You didn’t even ask. These days, you rarely need to ask. Alastor tells you about every little thing like it was the most automatic thing for him to do so.
Alastor says your name. “I’m going to remove the blanket now.”
You tighten your grip on his hand, and shake your head. Not yet. This moment can’t pass just yet. You just got home, and it’s too soon to end.
Alastor pauses for a moment. “What if I pull it down to your face?”
You give him a thumbs up.
Alastor peels the blanket, fulfilling the promise of only pulling it down until he sees your face.
He’s looking directly at you, smiling.
You stare and smile back.
Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. And then he shifts, leaning closer to press a kiss on the other. He trails his face upwards, his nose nudging your skin, and plants his lips on your forehead.
You push him off, pressing your hand on his cheek. You are supposed to be mad at him!
Alastor takes your hand, giving that a kiss as well. “Just one more?”
You sigh, but pull your hand away to allow it.
Alastor traces the back of his fingers down your cheek, and pecks your lips.
Your eyes widen when Alastor leans away. The way he stares down at you has you pulling the blanket back up to hide your face.
“You can’t rot in there the whole night with your outside clothes,” Alastor says. “Come on, I’ll draw a bath for you.”
A bath sounds nice. You uncurl your hand, giving him a thumbs up.
Alastor peels the blanket, and your eyes meet his. What does he see when he looks at you? You smile at him, and Alastor smiles back. He hops off the bed, circling around it. He hooks an arm underneath your knees, and the other under your shoulder to carry you like the bride you are.
You lean into his chest. He’s not wearing a bowtie anymore. It must be packed away for the day.
Alastor opens the bathroom door, flicking the lights. He sits you on the toilet, and brushes strands of hair behind your ear. He turns towards the bathtub, opening the faucet to let the water accumulate.
He lets the water drip on his fingers until the correct temperature warms his skin. “About earlier…,” he says, keeping his eyes on the water. “Your hair doesn’t actually stink.”
You shake your head, smiling.
Alastor turns back to you, staring straight into his eyes. “I want you to know that you can stop me anytime,” he tells you. “And I won’t get angry.”
You nod your head, glad that you won’t have to scrape together the energy to do so yourself. If talking takes too much out of you, this would be downright impossible then.
Alator’s fingers catch on to the first button. It lingers there for a moment. He looks up to meet your eyes, and you nod once more.
With your blessing, Alastor slowly unbuttons your blouse. It’s funny, charming, almost. With any other person or any other marriage or in any other story, there would be lingering eyes or breathy and soft touches, but you don’t see any of that from Alastor.
His hands trail down to unbutton your blouse. When the last button finally pops free, Alastor takes your arm, helping you slide off your blouse. He pulls your arms out until it’s fully off your skin and you’re sitting in front of your husband in your bralette who pays no mind to it. Alastor throws your top into the laundry basket.
Alastor kneels on the tiles, tilting his head as he unhooks the clasps of your bottoms. You have to push up the toilet to let him peel the thing off you completely. That too gets thrown into the laundry basket.
“I’ll leave the rest to you,” he says. “I’ll heat up some food. Try not to fall asleep.”
As he begins to leave, panic kicks in. You don’t want to be left alone in a silent, closed room, and so you grab his hand before he can step out.
Alastor looks back to you, smiling.
“…stay?” you say. “Please?”
Alastor holds your face in his hand, moving his thumb to caress your cheek. He presses his lips on your forehead. “I’ll be right outside.”
“Thank you,” you say and release his hand.
The door clicks shut, and you toss your undergarments into the basket. You step into the warm water, closing your eyes in relief. Slowly, you lower yourself in the tub, bringing your knees to your chest.
The water stills. It’s the correct temperature.
You squeeze your eyes shut, and…once and for all…you think you finally understand what Alastor means when he says how completing it is to be able to just exist. This life. It’s one he chose to spend with you, and he’s better than anything you can ever dream for yourself. This couldn’t be a dream. It can’t. Because your mind could never create Alastor.
All those little details don’t matter, not when you would burn everything for his smile.
You and him.
Him and you.
The evidence is already there.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Alastor sits by the door, leaning his head against the wood.
He doesn’t fully understand why he agreed to stay, not when he knows he doesn’t need to humor your request. After all, he could be doing more practical things like preparing for work or brainstorming new segments for his show…or something as simple as making sure you have something warm to eat when you finish your bath.
Alastor can leave at any moment. For a second, he thinks it would be the funniest thing in this world. You will step out, glancing around the room because you asked him to stay, and he gave his word that he would, but he would be downstairs.
It would be funny. That is until you realize he was missing. Would you be disappointed in him? Alastor imagines you, and your lips twist when you see that you are utterly alone. Does he stay, seated outside this door, because he doesn’t want to take the chance that you would frown when he didn’t keep his word?
You could very well kick him as you huff, and refuse to utter a single word in his direction.
Or worse…
You would accept that leaving was something he was capable of doing, even when you asked him to stay. Does he even care?
He doesn’t.
He does.
He doesn’t.
He does…but only because Alastor was a man of integrity. There has never been a moment where he has broken his word, and he won’t begin now.
Your mind looked so far away when he opened the door—eyes almost hollow.
Were these two days as torturous for you as it was for him? Eating alone used to be such a normal occurrence for him. It’s your fault he cooked more than he could eat, even when he knew you wouldn’t be sitting across from him, listening to the events of his days. Instead, it was two days of silent meals. Two days of shit coffee. Two days of just…you not being there.
“You’re taking quite a while,” he says, just to let you know that he’s here and keeping his word. It’s important for you to understand that he is a man who does so. “Was the water too hot?”
Silence.
“I think I specifically told you not to fall asleep,” he says, calling out for you and only you. “That would be quite a terrible way to perish. I can already imagine the headlines, ‘Local Radio Star’s Wife Drowns in Their Bathtub’”
Silence once again.
In all the years Alastor has been with you, from the moment he stepped into your clinic, never once have you accepted his taunts. You don’t stay silent when he pokes at you, not when you find it better to return it tenfold. There would be a fire blazing in your eyes as you challenge him. So, why are you silent right now?
You’re unfair. It’s too unfair of you to torture him with your silence.
Alastor runs a hand over his hair. He blinks and finds himself standing to enter the bathroom. Maybe you actually fell asleep. He twists the doorknob and pokes his head inside.
“You weren’t answering me,” are the first words that come out of his mouth because for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what else to say. “Don’t tell me you actually drowned.”
You’re lying your head on your knees, staring straight at the water, an empty smile on your lips as exhaustion settles heavily over your shoulders. It’s weird—almost funny, even—how your eyes remain blank when you retreat into yourself, but a tiny smile paints your face.
It reminds him of a doll, beautiful and fragile but empty. And Alastor hates dolls. Humans are able to create vast arrangements of expressions, and a doll only has one.
“Have you even started?”
Alastor wonders if you’ll ignore him again, but your eyes shift to him, smiling as you say a quiet and exhausted, “…hi.”
“Hi,” he says. “Have you even started?”
The water ripples when you shake your head. “Later.”
Before he could fully think, he takes a step inside and shuts the door behind him.
Opening the cabinet, Alastor grabs a washcloth. There’s a stool hidden underneath the toilet. He drags the stool next to the bathtub and sits, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Your smile shifts. You always do that—smiling at him in weird ways.
He dips his fingers into the water, checking its temperature. Still warm. “You can tell me to leave anytime.”
You sigh into your knees, and shut your eyes.
He dips the washcloth, letting the warm water soak up. Grabbing your body wash, he pumps it once on the towel and lathers it. Alastor brings the washcloth to your back, gently scrubbing it across your shoulders. He slides his hand up and down the length of your spine, letting the soap lather all over.
You hum with a smile and sink further into the bathtub.
Alastor takes your arm, peeling it off your knees. He scrubs at your skin, careful not to press too hard. Though he was gentle, he was thorough as well to scrub away any speck of dirt. No one deserves to go to bed filthy…well, actually, there are some who do…but you don’t. Not you—never you.
When he reaches your wrist, you flip your hand to catch his own. With a sigh, he takes this opportunity to work the soap between your fingers, massaging his thumb across your palm. Once that’s done, he properly holds your hand, and the soap spreads further into his hand.
There was still the matter of your scalp, but these days, Alastor has gotten used to doing basic tasks with only a single hand. All this because his wife decided that his hand wasn’t just his own anymore.
With his free hand, he grabs your shampoo and pumps it into his palm. It’s hard to lather, but not impossible. He runs his hand across your hair, letting the soap spread around. Alastor presses his thumb into your scalp, massaging it clean, and you hum when you press deeper into him.
“Are you okay?”
Please say yes.
“Later,” you tell him, eyes closed as you lean further into his touch. It’s weird. Alastor can feel the weight of your head pressing deeper into his palms. “I’ll be okay, later.”
A strand of hair sticks to your face. Alastor brushes it away, tucking it behind your ear. And there it is. You smile at him, bright and so full of life. It strikes him. Not even once has he ever told you how precious you are in his eyes. Surely, you wonder how you look in his eyes just as much as he wonders how he looks in yours.
Maybe, if he were a different man. Then and only then, could he be a husband that you deserve to call yours.
Alastor has always been a selfish man, and that would be your ruin. The thought of you sharing a life with someone else causes a muscle on his face to tense. Would you want to know about their day? Would you dance on the porch with them? Would you fill their life with laughter and so much joy that they could barely contain it? But…would you also be happy?
You deserve to build a life with someone who could give you a proper family. You deserve to find someone who could give you the emotions that you have a right to. You deserve someone who could hold you at night every single day.
“Alastor.”
He blinks at you, and continues to scrub your scalp. “Yes?”
You release his hand, and inch the tips of your fingers closer. It pokes the edges of his mouth, and pushes his lips into a smile. “A frown doesn’t suit you, my love.”
Alastor takes your hand, holding it in his to press a kiss. He shows you the wildest smile he can muster. “I never frown.”
What an idiotic thought to pop into his head. You would surely kick him for such a thought. Alastor would give you anything you could ever want. He will be every single little thing you can ever wish for.
The next minute goes something like this:
You flick water at his face. He ignores it.
Flick. Ignore.
Flick. Ignore.
Flick. Ignore.
The soapy water damps his hair. “Stop that.”
Your smile widens when you dip your hand under the water, letting it drench, and flick it at him. Water droplets hit his cheek, and it trails down along with all the other drops.
His smile strains. “I’m going to hold your head under the water,” he says as his smile strains. “That would be a horrible way to die as well. Water would fill your lungs.”
You roll your eyes, and let the water pool between your cupped hands. Water splashes into his face, and his hair is wet now. Alastor glares at you.
And you give him one of your innocent smiles when you want to get away with something.
And fuck….That was the most empty threat he’s ever uttered. Alastor never makes empty threats. A part of him wants to follow through, to hold your head underneath the water with the single purpose of keeping his word.
But you’re still smiling at him, bright and innocent and its everything to him
Maybe…just this once…he’ll break his word.
Alastor takes the shower head, turns on the faucet, and rinses away the suds. He passes a towel to you. “I’ll get you some clothes.”
The door clicks behind him. He walks to the closet, going through your clothes for your nightwear. There’s a certain pair you tend to like when going to bed. It takes a while, but he finds it. Alastor leaves the clothes on the toilet.
He waits on the bed until you come out.
There’s life in your eyes when you step out, a shy and sheepish smile on your lips. “I’m hungry.”
“Of course.”
He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You follow him, taking every step he takes until he reaches the couch.
Alastor leaves you there to go to the kitchen. It’s late. A heavy meal would do you no good. The rice porridge heats up easily. He tips the pot, letting your meal pool into a bowl. Alastor touches the sides, making sure it isn’t too hot to touch, and goes back into the living-room.
You grab the bowl eagerly, already taking a sip before he could even take his seat next to you.
There’s a brush on the table, lying next to one of his books. Alastor takes it, moving your back to face him. The bristles go through your hair. He lets the damp strands of your hair flow through his fingers, letting it linger for a moment.
You take another bite and turn to him. “You don’t like it when I eat on the couch.”
“That’s because a child makes less mess than you do,” he tells you, bringing the brush through your hair. “You leave stains everywhere.”
You reach behind you, and swat whatever you could reach. “I do not!” you say, huffing. “These stains were already there.”
And there it is. The defiance. That fire in your eyes. Tonight makes him realize that flames can be snuffed out if not taken care of. As long as he lives, he will never allow that to happen. It’s a silent promise he doesn’t tell you.
“Where did you wander off to?”
“Nowhere,” you say, taking another bite of your porridge. “I was just tired.”
There are no more tangled strands on your hair, but Alastor passes the brush through it anyway. “I could tell.”
You turn to him with a smile that he knows means trouble. “Hey, Al…”
“Yes?” he says, sighing.
Your smile widens. “My dear.”
Alastor could stop humoring you at any moment. “Yes?” he says because denying you was an ability he does not possess. “Will you just keep calling me?”
“My love”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes?”
“My, most, dearest.”
“Yes?”
You turn away from him with a laughter that’s loud and breathy and the greatest thing he has ever heard. “A few years ago, you told me you were nothing I would want.”
He drops the brush, leaning back into the couch. “Did I?”
“Yes!” you say. “You absolutely did.”
“And are you just saying that to remind me?
“Well, look at us now. To be able to be here with you has been my greatest joy,” you tell him like it was the most natural thing for you to say. “Thank you…for everything.”
“Is this the part where you tell me you’re terminally ill and have a month left to live?”
…Please don’t say yes.
You swat him, laughing. “Be serious!”
Alastor rolls his eyes, yet he doesn’t stop the smile you’re bringing. “I guess we’re kind of odd little things, you and I,” he says. “Bound together for infinity, like the stars.”
“Oh, not just the stars!”
He thinks of the way you held on to him earlier. How you desperately clung to him as though his hand was the only thing helping you stay together. Would it be okay for him to cling to you? Would you mind?
Alastor pulls you before he can talk himself to stop, wrapping an arm around your shoulders until your back bumps into his chest. He presses his face on the back of your neck, his nose nudging the skin of your nape. Two days without this. Two days of feeling incomplete.
A hand is placed on his forearm, you touch feather light. “The bowl is going to spill.”
“Eat later,” he says because…just because. Alastor cannot find any good reason as to why. He just does it. “I only need a minute.”
You lean into him. “No.”
Alastor loosens his arm
You grip him tighter. “No!” you say. “I meant no to the minute. You might only need one, but I’m going to need more.”
Alastor laughs, tightening his grip on you. He pulls you deeper into him, so much so that you’re practically on top of him.
There are words you need to hear. Three words he’s not above saying, not if it means you will understand just how deep they mean for you. It’s just a measly three words with eight letters.
Alastor controls words like a puppeteer, able to string thousands of letters into sweet metaphor and soft analogies. He can give you millions of poems. Each filled to the page with metaphors about how your smile is a drop of heaven that no being could ever re-create.
Alastor can write about how the sun nor the moon nor the stars can compare to the light that shines in your eyes, nor can they compare to the light you ignite on his own. Alastor can write about how not even the water or air can be as important as existing with you in every moment across space and time.
But Alastor doesn't need millions of poems to make you understand. Three words that consist of eight letters are all he needs.
Only the true poets know that using the correct sequence of words will always be better than stringing together thousands.
Alastor eyes land on you because they are only ever yours to catch. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Your eyes crinkle when you smile. Part of him wonders if you’re aware of how beautiful each and every one of your expressions are in his eyes. If he told you, he’s sure you would gloat and spout some ridiculous nonsense that’s surely meant to jab at him. It would be worth it.
“I…,” he begins, but the words lodge in his throat. “I think your meal is getting cold.”
“We can always re-heat it,” you say, and your shoulders relax in his hold. “This is too nice not to hold on to.”
Coward…He is a coward. That’s twice he’s tried to tell you, and twice that he chose to run away.
That mind of yours. It contains so much knowledge.
There’s a wish that comes suddenly and out of nowhere. Maybe he should have spent his youth studying muscles and bones instead of learning how to correctly string the right set of words that feed into his sense of self. Not once has he ever wished for a different pursuit. But Alastor would forfeit each and every skill set that brought him the attention of the masses just to be able to see the world in your eyes.
Alastor wonders what you see when he tells you about his day. He wonders what he looks like in your eyes. Do you see the same thing he does?
Alastor’s not above telling you the words he so desperately wants you to know. But you and that bright mind of yours always seems to understand him in a way he cannot understand how. Perceptive. You were too perceptive when it came to him. Like you made it your life mission to study each and every thought he makes.
The question isn’t if he can. The question now is what will you do when he tells you, and you see the truth he’s displaying for you to see.
Or worse…
What will you do when Alastor says the words carved into his very existence, and you see a lie?
He’ll say it tomorrow. He’ll say it when you bring him his coffee or when you leave or maybe when you compliment the food he oh so carefully prepares just for you, and only you. There will always be a tomorrow. There will be another chance. Another day to be honest. Another tomorrow. Another next week. Another next month. Another next year.
If not tomorrow, then until there is no doubt remaining in his mind that you will be able to see the truth…only the truth.
There’s no need to say the word. Not right now. Not when the evidence is already there: There will be you, and where you will be, there will be him. Always and forever.
There will be a lifetime of moments like this waiting for him in a world where he is yours.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
1933
All we could want was already there: You and I.
Now it’s just you.
Now it’s just me.
Where was the lifetime waiting for us in a world where I was yours?
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
First of all, yes, it is. You aren’t being delulu. That’s why the title is Glimpse of Me and You as well. If you know, you know. If you don’t sorry na lang lol. (Joke. I’m not going to gatekeep.)
I don’t know why I did this to myself to be honest. This chapter brought a need to write more scenes of just Alastor and Reader vibing to OPMs, especially 90s OPM. RIP to Alastor. I think you would have really loved Harana. Here’s the link to the song that Alastor and Reader sings together.
So this is marriage year 1932 or basically 6k words of just Alastor and Reader realizing that two days of not seeing was two days too much, and it was not something they liked.
Look at them both, thinking about growing old together. ❤️:D
Also, also. There’s just something so sexy about non-sexual stripping. It was really important for me to just write about it. Like just stripping and cleaning your significant other and do it for the sake of just helping your partner get clean because you care and want to help.
Next chapter: Radio's Last Broadcast
Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @alastorssimp @aestheticgals-blog @slaggylemon @reikamasama @obessivlyonline @okay-babe @lyralibra @holymusicalmothman @amoraneuro @tobyisher3 @sooha-neul
#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#alastor x wife!reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel imagines#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin imagines#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin headcanons#asexual alastor
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Heyyyyy, so I got into writing since work hasn't given me time to actually work on my art. It will soon be resolved in a few weeks, then back to posting more often. I am making a comic again and almost done with it so I don't promise projects that won't come.
Enough about me, and let's get to you! This is a thunderstorm comfort I wrote a while back on AO3 and forgot to post it here. My collection is called Nebula Kisses. This one-shot can be seen as platonic or romantic, next one is more on the romance side but still can be platonic if you wish. But so I don't clog your feed, I'll post the next chapter tomorrow or later but within the week!
I also apologize for the weird formatting, this was written on my phone during the time so I don't have the fancy indents or proper grammar check.
Thank you for sticking around with my inconsistencies, I wish I had more time.
So much love,
Nexi
Breath |Sun/Moon x Scared!Reader|
[Power had gone out, leaving Sun and Moon to look for you in the dark. However, you are absolutely horrified of thunderstorms.]
The daycare was lit up during the town wide blackout. The rumbling generators along with the constant loop of the daycare music, Sunnydrop was busy awaiting got his favorite visitor. Who might that be, well none other than the security guard who is ordered to look out for the lobby, green rooms, and of course, the daycare. Y/N is what they call themselves, which Sunny really liked that when they mentioned it to him, he walked around repeating it like a song.
But they were late, a half hour late. He taps his foot impatiently, he checks the attendance and sees that they did clock in. What were they doing? Did they get lost? It's impossible to miss his big daycare! Surely you didn't forget either, his lovely face was everywhere, that had to remind you to check on him.
A quiet rumble of the storm outside rang through the building. According to the weather, it was going to be a rough and long storm ahead. Heard it was going to last until morning.
Sun, getting impatient, decided to look for them himself. Feeling confident, he takes his long strides to the daycare door, his hand reaching for the door knob. He felt himself pause for just a moment. He hasn't really left daycare, not that he can't leave, but it was risky. Last time he left was to take care of that rulebreaker and set up some banned signs around Kids Cove, but that was the furthest he went in a very long time. Sun was still very angry about it, but it did reopen the daycare after Freddy left. So maybe he should forgive him? Nah, he needs to apologize first.
Sun shakes his head, he was getting off track. He opens the daycare door, mind back on his mission. To find his Starshine. He takes his long strides, making sure to stay near the light and flashing signs. The easy part was now over as he got to the entrance door that faced the slide back into his daycare.
As soon as he opened the door with great confidence, he saw that is was pitch black. Maybe his friend did get lost, with this darkness and no flashlight, it would be nearly impossible to find him! Not taking into consideration of muscle and location memory. He felt Moon stirring from inside.
“Moon, sorry to wake you up from your nap. Our dear friend is missing and I had hope to do it myself! But uh... Looks like I can't do much.” He spoke aloud. Silence rang through his head, awaiting for his alter ego to speak.
Moon was recently having a fit, and not talking. This happened since Eclipse disappeared into the arcade cabinet when he was playing that discount floppy bird game. Moon had tried to get him out by playing the game, but something happened to him too. He became mostly unresponsive, giving out short phrases or sentences.
Sun would hear his alter giggle, which relieved Sun that Moon was at least in a good mood. Sun takes in a false breath of courage and walked into the dark. If he could close his eyes, he would've. The familiar pain in his face shocked through him, making him grab at it. He feels his rays click into his head on at a time, unlocking his chest compartment which his infamous hat was held in. It started from his fingers, the oranges and silver turned to white and blue.
Sun felt himself pull back and release control. He now stood outside and watched Moon take his hat and place it up on his head. Moon crouched down and stretches his legs, then start crawling on the floor towards the wall. Sun, not wanting to be alone, would do his best to follow.
“Little Star has gone missing.” Is what Moon would say before climbing up the wall and opening a vent to crawl through. He started to giggle and cackle, it echoing through the building and alerting that Moon was out early. The glamrocks retreating to their green rooms as to not go to parts and services.
*×*×*×*×*×*
You had entered the building on time, rarely ever late. Today has been storming hard, the rain pattering hard on the glass of the lobby entrance. Things were up and normal, doing your normal tasks. Checked stock, picked up any lost and found items to either throw away or await for the owner to come in the next day to pick it up. As you head into lost and found, that was when you heard it. It started as a small rumble before the sky roared a building shaking thunder, knocking the power out.
You have always been afraid of thunder since you were young. Not that you could explain it to anyone without the fear of being made fun of for a childish fear. It wasn't childish to you, it was real, the sense of dread and fear that paralyzed you proved it. You drop to the floor, staying as close to the ground as you could. If you could just find your flashlight, you had to crawl around a bit to then heard another rumble.
It took your breath away, your hands shaking as you retrieve the flashlight. Trying to find some solace in the light, you put your thumb on the switch and pushed up. Click. Click-click. Nothing. The flashlight, so cheap that it doesn't even last a hour with full charge, was dead and the charging stations were down. You were in the dark, the loud storm rattling the outside shutter doors, making it very loud and overwhelming.
You grab a blanket from the shelf and put it over you and your head. It just felt safer when surrounded by the soft fabric. Peaking through the opening, you hesitantly get on your feet again. You still had a job to do, but it was going to be slower. You would like your paycheck still and you knew how stingy the company was, taking your panic and finding a way to no pay you.
You would manage to get out of lost and found in the dark. On your way out, a little glow in the dark Monty was resting in a stroller. It must've been left behind but picking it up, it still had its tag and security pin. Rather, someone tried to steal it. It did produce light, enough to get around at least. However, these toys don't glow in the dark for too long. Got maybe, a solid twenty minutes? It's been dark for five, so fifteen. You did your best to scamper to the green rooms and peak around.
You arrive and you see the famous glamrocks interacting with each other. Monty with Roxy and Chica, heading back towards their respective rooms. Monty had taken over as temporary lead as they remade a new Freddy. They did have to use the scraped Mr. Hippo glamrock to fill the fourth spot. Your train of thought was cut off as another loud crash of thunder rang through the building. You huddle against a corner and put the blanket over your head again.
“Why... Why now... Why can't you come when it was after work...” You mutter as you croutch down and felt tears prick your eyes. Another crash finally made you crack, you try to hold back your tears but they started to stream down your face. All you felt was dread, paralyzing fear that. You wanted to scream in fear but that would reveal your fear. You try to be fearless, not let anything bother you. When you first met Sun and Moon, they were rather surprised that you approached them. You had a fascination with how they acted and looked. It was endearing, when you took the time to watch them and interact that even under their rough attitude and words, they were lonely.
Lonely.
Another crash, you were shaking and on the ground. Hands over your ears and a quiet sobbing from your blanket shell. You were too scared to notice the vent opening and the giggling of a certain jester. One with the Moon rather than the sun. The jester made his round, single red eye darting around to find something. Then he hears the sobbing, unfamiliar to his sensors. Crawling over, he finds the shaking blanket of which the sobbing came from. When he lifted the blanket that was when he saw you. Your glow in the dark Monty plush was almost out of glow, leaving you in almost pure darkness.
Moon was all you saw now, his eye lit up the small space. He tilts his head in confusion.
“Why is Little Star hiding? No monsters are here, just Moon” He spoke, unsure to react to the crying. You quickly wipe your face and sniffle, putting up your strong front.
“Cause uhh, I was playing a game..?” You made it sound more like a question than an answer. Of course, it was a lie, so Moon leaned closer.
“Then why cry? Liar, liar I hate liars. Speak truth.” Moon wipes a tear from your cheek. But as you go to answer, the loudest crash of thunder lands. It shook the building again, making the lights flicker and power back off. You yelp and cling onto Moon. You try to get as close as you could, fingers slipping a tad just for you to scramble to get your grip. You breathing escalated and felt the verge of hyperventilation. You weren't expecting anything from Moon, never was the touchy one unlike Sun who couldn't stop having tiny touches and bumps.
But you then felt mechanical arms wrap around you. He sat down and pulled you onto his lap, cradling you close to him. He gently rocks back and fourth, winding his broken chest music box. He was taking nap time protocol with some modifications. His broken music box plays a soft tune, though in some places it wobbled.
“Breathe. Deep breaths. It will be okay..” Moon whispers. You try to follow his instructions, still freaking out. Your shaking breath and hiccups try to find a rhythm. Moon rests his blue hand and rubs gently up and down your back. It was slow. “Breathe in..” He whispers, his hand gliding up slowly, helping you follow. You take a shuttering breath in, slow like his hand. It stops, in which you held your breath. “Breathe out...” His hand runs back down and you sigh out. It was then looped
Moon would then carry you, you holding onto him with your legs around his thin waist, him with a arm under you and one on your back to keep the rhythm going. He adjusted the blanket to keep it over your head.
He arrives back to the door of the daycare, avoiding the light, he hooked his arm around the wall to find the light switch to turn off the lights. He finds it and flicks it off, hearing the buzzing electricity stop. He peeks in to make sure and then walks in. He takes the long way around and gets inside the daycare. He would have the fly hook attach to his back and he glides over to his and Sun's tower.
“... Moon..? Why are we here..?” You asked, hearing the rumble again and wincing at the noise. Moon would hold you close as he goes back to crawling. He crawls through a small hole off to the side and see that it was a small hiding place. There was boxes, drawings, a mattress with a few pillows. There was also an arcade cabinet in the corner with the screen busted.
“Hide away, storm won't follow here.. Safe here..” He crawls onto the mattress and lays you next to him. The rumbles of the storms were dampened, making it barely audible. With the help of Moon's music box as well, he pets your head.
“... Thank you.” You mumble out, only for Moon respond with a fake click of his tongue. He giggled a bit and curled up around you, his legs are under yours, making you rest yours on top of his. You both cuddle up under the blanket, Moon rubbing your back to keep the deep breath rhythm.
A very loud roar of the sky fills the room, and you both tense up and huddle. A few more tears fall and Moon quickly wipes them away. It was the first time you would ever see Moon have a slight shake in his hand. He was afraid too, of thunder and storms. He was able to repress his fear as his tip top priority was to make sure you were okay first. But he felt as if he needed to keep up this false confidence that you could remain calm.
You mimic his movements, running your hand on his back in a soothing motion.
“Breathe...” You both say at the same time. You get as close as you two could and comforted each other. Moon pecks the top of your head. He felt safe with you, and you felt safe with him. For someone as reclusive as Moon, this was a good bonding experience that neither of you would forget.
#fnaf#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf sundrop#moondrop#fnaf moondrop#fnaf moon#dca sun#fnaf dca#dca fandom#dca fnaf#dca moon#dca#sun x reader#sundrop#sundrop x reader#moon x reader#moondrop x reader#fluff#angst with a happy ending#moon is a softie#Sun is a nervous wreak#first fanfic in 4 years#please be gentle
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overall the past day has been good. i found my prescription and i finally finished chapter 9. i was dealing with some bad writer’s block so i’m glad it’s done
#Psy's no punctuation posts#gonna take a break for a couple days and work on posting the next chapter tomorrow#maybe if i feel up to it i can start the next chapter but for now... no#also 'i've been dealing with bad writers blcok' *is still writing a chapter a week*#i was just struggling like hell with this chapter#it's probably messy i don't care i'll deal with it later
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these are just some scenarios that came to mind while I was daydreaming. I might post something else in a few days related to my sagau interpretation turned mini fic lmaoo. you can view these as anecdotes of when things happened off screen or something, idk but it's up to you. enjoy!
LATEST SAGAU CHAPTER [HIATUS] : SAFE FOR NOW
SIDE STORY : STRANGE ENCOUNTER
•° M.LIST °• NEXT
lumine: do you always have to be so negative?
wanderer: that's my personality.
lumine: I know but can't you smile at least once?
[name]: if he does smile, it'll mean I'm gonna become rich tomorrow.
lumine:
[name]:
[name]: *looks at lumine*
lumine: *looks at [name]*
both: *nod then look at wanderer*
wanderer: what?
[name]: *tackles him down* GOT HIM!
wanderer: your grace, what are yo-
lumine: *using her hands to make him smile* COME ON, SMILE!!
wanderer: *struggling to get away* I DON'T WANT TO!!
paimon: *watching from the sideline*
nahida: *walks in* hel- what's going on?
paimon: [name] said that they'll become rich if wanderer smiles at least once.
nahida: oh. well, maybe they are right? why didn't you join in?
paimon: don't want wanderer to haunt paimon's dream tonight.
nahida: *giggles* fair.
[name]: *walks through the door, completely dishevelled and bleeding*
cyno: and that's wh- *looks up* [NAME]!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?
[name]: *blinks, confused* yes?
tighnari: you're bleeding!
lumine: *walks in in the same state*
wanderer: what happened?
paimon: a rishboland tiger.
alhaitham: I'm sorry?
[name]: you're excused.
lumine: *grins and leans onto [name]* they thought that the tiger was friendly. the tiger was, until they stepped on its tail.
paimon: *snickering*
wanderer: wait until buer hears this...
[name]: what the fuck do you mean by 'he's not here'? where does he go and spend his time? he's a fucking bard with too much time on his hands!
jean: *sweatdrops* your gra-
lumine: [name], stop swearing.
[name]: oh, my bad. anyway, where to find that asshole?
lumine: [name].
[name]: sorry, sorry.
jean: *whispers to paimon* is this normal?
paimon: *nods* paimon has grown immune to it all now.
[name]: *sneezes*
albedo: bless you.
[name]: *groans* thank you but how the fuck do you live in this cold?
albedo: that's simply cause I'm not h–
[name]: *wraps their arms around themself* I knoooooow!
lumine: hold on, I'll go find a seelie. *dashes off*
[name]: THANK YOU, LU!!
albedo: *takes off his coat and puts it on [name]'s shoulders*
[name]: thank you, bedo.
klee: you're very beautiful!
[name]: *looking at klee then around* huh?
klee: *giggles* you're very beautiful, your grace!
[name]: *smiles* call me [name] instead, all right? and thank you, klee. *picks her up*
klee: *wraps her arms around [name]'s neck*
[name]: *hugs her tightly*
paimon: *wiping away her tears*
lumine: *sniffles*
kaeya: oh? emotional~?
lumine: shut up, kaeya.
[name]: okay, wild idea.
lumine: *sighs* here we go again.
[name]: what if we visit Inazuma and I wear some sort of disguise?
lumine: *perks up* wait, that's–
wanderer: a very bad idea.
lumine & [name]: bu–
wanderer: no 'but's. the farthest you're allowed to is mondstadt and liyue is out of question.
[name]: *puppy eyes*
wanderer: that's not going to work on me.
[name]: hmph. *pouts*
lumine: you sure it didn't work? 'cause you're red, wanderer.
wanderer: *looking away, blushing wildly* FUCK OFF!!
nahida: why are [name] sulking and alhaitham blushing?
lumine: *hands on her hips* alhaitham told them 'no' to their request.
nahida: he said 'no' to what exactly?
paimon: they asked to give him a kiss.
[name], sulking somewhere: I SAID A KISS ON THE CHEEK!!
alhaitham: t-that's not very a-appropriate, your g-gra–
[name]: THAT'S NOT MY NAME!
lumine: I'll gladly accept your kiss!
[name]: *perks up* BET!
alhaitham: *hiding his face behind his hand*
tighnari: and this is collei.
collei: *hesitating between bowing, kneeling or waving*
paimon: collei!
lumine: hey, collei... are you all right?
collei: I- y-yes! I just-
[name]: no need to bow or kneel before me, it makes me very uncomfortable. a simple wave is enough, and if you're comfortable, a hug is welcomed too.
tighnari: I don't th–
collei: *suddenly hugs [name]*
tighnari: *surprised gibberish*
[name]: *grins and hugs collei back*
lumine: what–
paimon: what the heck–
collei: *hastily pulls away while blushing* t-there! i-i heard that y-you mumbling about wanting to give m-me a hug–
[name]: *nods while smiling* thank you, collei. it must have been hard for you to go out of your comfort zone.
collei: *shaking her head, blushing still* n-not at all!
[name]: holy shit, we're high up! I can see mondstadt from here!
paimon: well, we are at the top of stormterror's lair after all.
jean: don't get too close to the edge, your grace!
[name]: *looks at jean, takes a decisive step towards the edge*
jean: *panicking and speed-walking towards [name]*
lumine: [name], step back. you'll give jean a heart attack.
[name]: *smiles and walks right into jean's embrace*
jean: *confused sigh of relief as she hugs [name] then looks at lumine*
lumine: they will purposely not reply to anyone when their name isn't used.
paimon: *nods rapidly*
[name]: *leaning on the table, staring at cyno*
cyno: what is it?
[name]: are you and tighnari dating?
cyno: *clears his throat*
[name]: *leans back, gasping* OH MY GOD! DOES THAT MEAN YOU WERE CHEATING ON HIM WITH ALBEDO AT THE WINDBLUME FESTIVAL?!
cyno: I did not–
kaveh: *slams the door open* WHO CHEATED ON WHO DURING WHAT?!
cyno: no one–
[name]: CYNO CHEATED ON TIGHNARI DURING THEIR TRIP IN MONDSTADT!!
kaveh: *offended gasps* WHAT IS THIS TREASONOUS ACT?! *looks at cyno, appalled*
[name]: *stands up* I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS!
kaveh: NEITHER WILL I! LET'S GO, [NAME]!
[name]: HMPH! *grabs onto kaveh's arm and leaves with him*
alhaitham: *hiding behind his book, trying hold in his laughter*
collei: *shaking her head while trying to act disappointed*
tighnari: ... I knew it.
cyno: NOT YOU TOO??
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Pollen and Plottin'
Chapter Five of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Six
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 4K
Chapter Overview: You have a morning out of hell and all signs point to Frankie to bail you out.
Notes: I fucking knew i would be back this week LMAOOO,, finals next week and then i'll finally be free from the shackles of uni !! this gif was playing on repeat in my brain while i was writing and lorddd it made it so hard to concentrate,, i updated the tag list so i hope i added everyone that was kind enough to ask to be on it ((: as usual .. my asks are always open & happy reading <3
*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
You must have done something truly heinous in your past life to warrant this series of unfortunate events this Tuesday morning. The first issue makes itself known to you when your alarm doesn’t go off this morning. Your body must have known that you were getting a suspicious amount of sleep because thankfully it wakes you up with an hour to get ready. Issue number two comes in the form of empty bottles. You jump out of the shower in record breaking time. Body wrapped in a towel, skin still littered in water droplets, you scour your bathroom counter for your hair products. A frustrated sigh leaves you when you notice that your products are in the trash can. You knew that you should have left yourself a note to go pick up more the second you ran out.
“Bright side. Bright side. There's always a bright side.” You repeat your new mantra down the hall to the kitchen.
As you wait for your coffee to brew, you try to change your way of thinking. Yes, you woke up late, but at least you had an hour to get ready. Yes, you didn’t have any hair products, but at least you got to shower. See? Not so bad looking now, huh? When the coffee is done you remove the pot from its stand and set it on your counter. You make your way to the fridge to pull out your creamer and then your cabinets to retrieve your favorite mug. Unfortunately, your depth perception is off because as you bring your mug and creamer to the counter you knock the coffee pot into the sink. It must have been right on the edge and you just didn’t realize it. Tears prick your eyes as you watch the third issue of the morning disappear down the drain. You don’t think there is a bright side to this problem. With time not acting as your friend, breakfast will have to take a backseat. Before you head out the door you grab your keys and your tote and pray that whatever higher power is fucking with you has had its fill. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?
You hop in your car and start it up. No. And start it up. Oh God no. Third time's the charm and…
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You wail.
The panic is setting in now. You can feel bile gurgling in your stomach and trying to claw its way up into your throat. This sort of thing usually wouldn’t bother you this much, but coupled with all the bullshit from this morning, you were at your wits end. Before anxiety completely envelops you, you pull out your phone to call Benny and explain the situation.
“Oh shit, are you alright?”
“Physically? Yes. Mentally? Ask me tomorrow.”
“At least your sense of humor is still intact,” He offers. “Don’t worry about coming in today. I had to learn how to hold it down before I hired you so I’m not worried about that. Just take today to figure out what’s wrong with your car and keep me posted. Maybe you can give Catfish a ring? He works at an auto body shop that shouldn’t be too far from you.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Benny. Yeah, he mentioned that. I’ll call him and then let you know what happens. Talk to you later!”
You toss your phone into your passenger seat and rest your head on your steering wheel. The panic you were feeling has subsided now due to a solution presenting itself, but nervousness began to blossom in its place when that solution turned out to be Frankie. The first time you called him isn’t supposed to be like this. You aren’t really sure how you wanted the first time to go, but you definitely wanted to have a better reason to talk than your fucked up car. A buzzing sound next to you announces the arrival of a text. You take a deep, centering breath and lift your head up before grabbing your phone. It’s Benny sending you the address of Frankie’s shop. You click the link and it takes you to your phone's map. It really isn’t too far from you; only 10 minutes down the road.
You pull up Frankie’s contact, but hesitate before you press it. A small twinge of guilt rolls through you as you surrender to the idea of calling another man for help with a job that has always been done by your father. The one thing he loved more than looking at cars was fixing them up. He had made you watch him work all through your childhood, so you knew how to change your tire, your oil, and both your head and tail lights. This felt like a betrayal when, in reality, it wasn’t. There wasn’t anything he could do in his current situation to help you. And telling him what was going on would only hurt him as he would inevitably come to the same conclusion you did. With your guilt temporarily satiated, you call Frankie.
He must have been concerned when he saw that it was you calling because he answers on the second ring and his voice is higher pitched than normal. “Hello?”
“Hey, Frankie it's me. Well obviously you know it's me. I’m sure you have caller ID. I’m sorry, I’m rambling, but I think I need to cash in on that car help you offered earlier.”
“Are you safe? What happened?” His tone is panicky.
“Yes. I’m completely safe.” You hear him sigh quietly on the other end of the phone. “My car just won’t start and I can’t figure out what's wrong with it. I didn’t leave any lights on last night, my gas tank is half full, and, for once in my life, my check engine light isn’t on.”
“I like your little run down, but it's going to be hard for me to figure out what's wrong with it until I actually see the vehicle in person. Tell you what, I’ll drive out to see you right now and have one of my guys bring out a tow truck to pick it up.”
“Wait no you don’t have to do that! I don’t want to make you leave work over something silly like this. I can just wait until the tow truck gets here and takes me to the shop.”
“And I don’t want you to have to deal with this alone, silly or not, got it?”
“Got it.”
You’re sitting on the curb to the left of your car when you see Frankie pull into the parking lot with his white pickup. He waves at you through his windshield as he parks in the open spot to the right of your car. You figure that it's now or never and dust yourself off as you walk over to his driver's side.
“So, are you going to be able to fix him?”
“Him?” He says skeptically, stepping out of his truck.
“My car? He’s a boy?”
“You know most people refer to vehicles as women, but you know what, to each their own.” He looks over the hood of his truck at your car. “My apologies sir. I’ll do everything in my power to get you up and running again.”
Frankie has you pop your hood while he goes back and pops his own and grabs jumper cables from the backseat. Although you offer to help him, he insists that you relax while does it himself. The way he says it makes you feel cared for rather than pushed to the side because he doesn’t believe that you’re capable. He is able to jumpstart your car, but each time the engine dies after idling for a few minutes. When he realizes that no matter how many times he tries to jump it the engine won’t stay on he unhooks the cables and puts them away.
“See anything?”
He’s taking a closer look at everything that's under your hood. The gray shirt he's wearing is doing a beautiful job of showing off how defined his arms really are. The cotton material stretches over his bicep as he moves his arm to reach something. It dawns on you that he rarely wears shirts, or clothes in general, that allow his body to be visible. Your heart aches when you think about him feeling insecure as he stands next to the other men. Even though you haven’t seen them without their clothes off, Benny excluded, you can tell how toned each of them are. You wish you could tell him that it doesn’t matter to you. You wish you could tell him that the way his stomach is currently peeking out from under his shirt is incredibly sexy to you. There’s nothing you would change about him because if you did there would be less of him for you to look at.
“Everything looks good up here.” He sighs tiredly and shuts your hood. “The issue must be your undercarriage.”
“My what?”
“Your car’s undercarriage!” He couldn’t have spit those words out faster. “I’m sure there isn’t anything wrong w-with your undercarriage.”
“Frankie, I’m just messing with you.” Your hand comes to rest on his arm as you laugh. “I knew what you meant.”
The Florida sun did a good job of blurring the line between him blushing and him standing out in the heat for too long.
“Hey, do you want some water? It’s the least I could do since you’re helping me out so much.”
“It’s really no big deal.” He reassures you. “But water would be great.”
You turn and start heading to the staircase that leads to the second floor of your apartment complex. You make it up about three steps before you realize that Frankie isn’t following you.
“I thought you wanted water?” You ask turning to face him.
“In your apartment?”
“Last I checked, that's where I keep it? Come on, Frankie, I’m not gonna bite you.”
With a small smile from him, you face back around and continue to make your way up the stairs. When you reach your door you suddenly become self conscious about the way your apartment is set up. You haven’t had the time to decorate since you got here and the lack of personal touches in your apartment made that painfully obvious.
“Sorry my place is a little bland.” You open the door and lead him inside to the kitchen. “I want to get some art for my walls so the place can really be brought together. It’s a little dumb though since I’m only here temporarily.”
“I don’t think it’s dumb, but I like the way it feels in here.”
“Oh yeah?” You pull the brita out of your fridge and set it down on the counter. “What does it feel like?”
He sees you reaching out for the cabinet that's next to him. He turns around to open it and hands you two cups without missing a beat in the conversation. “It’s kinda hard to explain. Maybe the best word I can use to describe it is…homey? I know you said you wanted more things in here, but I don’t really think items make a place feel like a home.”
“That’s way existential, Frankie.” You look up at him while filling each of y’alls glasses. “But, that does mean a lot since you’re my first guest.”
“Fuck off, no I’m not.” He says grabbing his drink.
You nod in confirmation while you take a sip of your water.
“What about your dad?”
“I actually go visit him. He’s in a retirement home, his own choice, but he had a stroke a little less than a month ago. It was bad enough to have him start physical therapy so he could retrain the muscles in his legs.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Fortunately, he’s doing better. He’s a stubborn old bastard that's for sure.”
“That’s good,” He holds out his glass to you. “Cheers to your dad and cheers for me being your first house guest.”
As you clink your glasses together you realize how much better the place feels with Frankie’s presence. The walls don’t look as bare. The sink's constant drip isn’t as loud. And the sunlight shines a little brighter through your perpetually cloudy glass windows.
“The place isn’t all bland.” He motions to the vase full of white lilies sitting on your small kitchen table. “Those are nice.”
“They didn’t have my favorite ones at the store when I went a few days ago,” you say as you walk over to smell them. “But aren’t these just beautiful?”
“Yes. Absolutely beautiful.”
Soft brown eyes meet yours when you shift your body to face him again. You can’t help but feel flustered under his intoxicating gaze.
“What?” There was no sun to explain away the heat radiating off your cheeks now.
“You have some pollen on your nose.” He takes his finger and points to his own. “Just there.”
“Aw fuck.” You rub off your nose as quickly as you can. Embarrassment courses through your veins as Frankie stays quiet and simply watches you. “Did I get it all?”
Pink lips part into a smile as he shakes his head at you. “It might be easier if I get it for you. Is that okay?”
“Y-yes.”
He sets his cup down on the counter behind him and starts walking the few feet over to you. As he closes the gap between y'all, he rubs his hands down the sides of his jeans. He looks so much taller when he’s this close. You try to focus on controlling your breathing as he raises his hand and lets it hover over your nose. As soon as he brushes the skin, your eyes flutter close at the sensation. His calloused hands caress you so delicately that you feel as if you are made of the finest of china. You only open them when you feel his touch leave your body. He’s staring down at you with pupils blown out.
“Is it-is it all gone?” You don’t know why you're whispering when he's standing right in front of you.
“You’re pollen free.” He whispers back.
Neither of you make a move to escape the close proximity. You watch his eyes slowly travel from your own eyes to your lip and back up again. You hope he can see by the way you’re looking at him that you’re begging for him to touch you, to kiss you. He takes a half step closer. His hand brushes against yours down at your side.
Honk! Honk! Honk!
Frankie closes his eyes like he's in agonizing pain and steps back from you. “I think your car’s ride is here.”
“Well umm,” You clear your throat. “I guess we shouldn’t keep your coworker waiting, huh?”
***
“So we got some bad news and we got some good news. The bad news is that it looks like one of your cylinders misfired and it’s going to be out of commission until it can be fixed. The good news is that we are having a slow day today so it should be fixed by this afternoon.”
“I really wish you would have led with the good news.”
“Where's the suspense in that?”
“Thank you again for helping me with this, Frankie.” The two of you exit the shop and stand in front of his truck. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Probably would have called some other loser who works in an auto body shop.” He shrugs.
“You’re not a loser.” You wrap your arms around your body. “At least not to me.”
“I uhh-thank you for saying that.”
You return his shrug with a soft smile.
“Did you want me too-umm-drop you off at the gym?” He checks his watch. “You’ve only missed about an hour and a half of your day.”
“No, don’t worry about it. Benny said I could take the day when I talked to him about what was going on this morning. I’ll probably uber home and find something to occupy myself with until my car is ready.”
Your stomach choses now to loudly make its presence known.
Frankie raises one of his eyebrows at you. “Have you eaten today?”
“I was planning on it, but then the universe decided that it wasn’t in the cards for me.”
“Want to go get breakfast? With me? I could eat.”
“As lovely as that sounds, I’ve already taken up so much of your time already! I don’t want to get you in trouble at work!”
“Oh, come on. Playing hooky isn’t fun when you do it by yourself. Plus, I’ve got some vacation time racked up that I can use for today
You knew your answer even before you spoke it. The opportunity to spend more time with him is one you would have to be crazy to pass up. It may not be a date, but it was a start. And everything has to start somewhere.
“Fine, but you’re driving.”
***
“Please tell me you didn’t call us here to help you close up, Benny.”
It was unusually quiet in the gym today. It wasn’t the lack of grunting from the weight lifters, or the obnoxious sounds coming from the washing machine, or even the chatter of patrons in between their boxing rounds. It was the lack of you. Benny thought that he could handle it just like before, but he was wrong. He found himself wandering up to the front desk to share each and every miniscule thought that popped into his head only to find it empty time and time again. You had completely enmeshed yourself into his daily routine and he didn’t notice until now. It seemed that even the guests noticed your absence. He found himself getting asked where you were or when you would be coming back. You did so much around the gym that he didn’t even realize and he cursed himself for taking you for granted. The next time you had car trouble he swore he would pick you up himself because he could do this alone. He couldn’t do this without his friend. But, that isn’t why he called them in.
“Yeah, what gives?” Pope adds to Will’s previous statement. “And where’s our girl?”
“Number one: no I didn’t call y’all to help me close. Number two: I gave her the day off because she was having car trouble and wouldn’t be able to make it in.”
It takes him assuring his friends multiple times and showing them your update texts for them to stop worrying about you.
“Alright that explains her, but where's Catfish?” Will presses.
Benny sighs deeply and walks around to sit in your empty chair. He closes his eyes and leans his head back before he answers his brother.
“He’s actually the reason why I called y’all over. I found out that he’s been talking to Rochelle again.”
“As much as we don’t fuckin’ like it, we knew that she texted him about getting back together.”
“You were there that night. This is old news.” Pope sounds annoyed, but Benny can’t track if it's aimed at him specifically or at the contents of the conversation.
“He’s been talking on the phone with her. I feel like thats a bit more serious than a fuckin’ text, Pope.”
Benny’s quick retort is enough to silence him, but Will starts panicking. An emotion that is just as foreign for him to feel as it is to see him display.
“No fuckin’ way, man. No fuckin’ way he would do that.”
“That’s what I thought too, but she overheard him talking with Rochelle when she saw him out a few weeks back. Why would she lie about that? She had no knowledge of Rochelle before then.”
“Fuck! FUCK!”
Will fists his hands behind his head and starts pacing around the gym lobby. The two other men can only stare as they watch him slowly unravel before their eyes. Pope was, and still is, Frankie’s best friend, but Will was the most affected by what happened. It’s his job to scrape vets off the street when they come back after tours, legal or not, and get them the help they need. What kind of man, what kind of friend is he that he let one of his own slip through his fingers? When the metaphorical shoe finally dropped and Frankie got busted, as much as Will wanted to say ‘I told you so’, he just held his hand through recovery. The feeling of being right was only second to seeing his friend get better. It took every ounce of strength Will, Pope, and Benny had to drag Frankie back into reality. Now that he is teetering on the edge again, Will is terrified that he doesn’t have enough left in him to save Frankie. Pope cuts in to attempt to stop Benny from causing Will to have another Publix level freakout.
“What exactly did she hear?”
“She just said that he got a phone call and he immediately tensed up when he saw who was calling. Then, when he answered, he said her name.”
“Let’s not lose our heads, boys.” Pope turns toward Will who is still pacing. “We don’t know the context of the phone call, alright? Rochelle was the one that called him, not the other way around.”
“Does it matter?! She like a fuckin’ drug to him!”
“You’re not fucking helping, Benny.” Pope seethes.
Will regains some control over his emotions and pilots himself over to the front desk.
“Pope is right. We don’t have all the facts yet.” He lets out a weighted sigh and white knuckles the edge of the desk. “Let’s just keep an eye on him and this situation until we know, for sure, what’s really goin’ on.”
The suffocating tension in the room is shattered when Benny’s phone chimes with a text.
You: My car is as good as new! Frankie and I even stopped to get some new air freshener scents for you to test out for the gym! See you tomorrow (:
“Ho-ly shit.” Benny lets out a low whistle.
“What?” The two other men speak in unison.
Benny just laughs to himself as he tosses Will the phone.
“Well would you look at that?” Will echoes his brother's tune.
“Let me see that, huh?” Pope snatches the phone and reads the message you sent. “So that's why that pendejo hasn’t been answering my texts all damn day. He’s with her!”
“That sneaky bastard!” Benny laughs. “Yall think he likes her? He’s got to, right?”
“You really should get someone else to fill in for you at the fights every now and then.” Will snickers, all tension gone from his body. “Of course he likes her. He told us last Friday.”
“I miss everything! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He complains.
“Nevermind that.” Pope says as he returns the phone. “She might be the solution to our problem.”
How’d you reckon?” Will inquires.
“If we can get them together, there won’t be any room for Rochelle.”
“We aren’t pimpin’ her out, Pope. That’s fucked up.”
“No, no.” He shakes his head. “We aren’t pimping her out, dumbass. Not if she likes him back that is. I mean, come on, you saw the way she was looking at him when they shared that beer the other night.”
“They shared a beer?!”
“Not now, Benny.” Will hushes. “Damn straight I saw that.”
Pope turns to Benny who still looks in shock because of what he just learned.
“Can you do us a favor?”
“Anything if it means getting Rochelle out of the picture. Again.”
“Good man. Now we need you to keep your ears open for anything she says about Fish. We need to know where she stands before we do this and you’re the one that sees her everyday.”
“Hell yeah! I’m gonna be all over her!”
“Don’t be weird, Ben.” Will groan.
“Then it’s settled. When we figure out if she likes him or not…operation ‘catch-a-fish’ is a go.”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 }
#francisco morales#frankie morales#catfish#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#triple frontier#triple frontier fic#benny miller#will miller#ironhead#santiago garcia#pope#through the scope#read on a03
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