#hope this helps other people actually hear this more obscure song !! sorry again for the mediocre video | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bubble-tea-bunny · 3 years

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dive into you

[bennett x reader]

author’s note: lil fic for bestest boy benny inspired by the song by nct dream and the summer season :’)

word count: 3,600

There’s a bakery opposite of Angel’s Share, just across the cobblestone road, and every morning the smell of freshly baked bread wafts from its open double doors, ready to welcome patrons and the crisp air of the early hours. Bennett has easily fallen into the routine of making this his first stop of the day. When he wakes, eyes slow to open and greeted by little squares of light on the ceiling of his bedroom from the sunlight shining through the window, he swears he can already smell that bread and the pastries and the care put into each one. He doesn’t often find it in him to be lazy, to be sluggish this early, for a new day was a new promise of adventure, and whether he’s swept along by the wind to the wilds or to the bakery, it’s an adventure all the same.

He always picks out food for his dads. He considers carefully what they might like to have (some prefer to have the same each time, others don’t mind the variety and like to be surprised), and carefully, slowly he fills the tray. Usually it isn’t busy during the time he’s there, but he doesn’t want to take risks as he holds it securely with both hands whenever he’s perusing the selection. Even if there were no people to bump into, with his luck, he might bump into one of the displays in the middle of the shop instead, consequence of paying more attention to the shelves against the wall where there are loaves baked into fun shapes like fish or crabs, rather than to what’s in front of him. He’d hate to drop everything on his tray and waste it.

Sometimes the bakery keeps the doors closed, and while uncommon, it’s nothing unusual. On these occasions, the entry of each customer is announced by the small bell jingling just overhead. It’s the only sound in the shop, ringing several times in the past ten minutes but it’s mere background noise, easily ignored, as Bennett absorbs himself in choosing what to buy today.

“Good morning!”

Bennett’s hand freezes just above a loaf of bread that looks like a bear and he glances behind him to the counter because the sound of your bubbly voice, conversely, is much more difficult to ignore. Though to be fair, to him, you’re no mere background noise.

You’re carrying a basket of more loaves just taken from the oven, half of them regularly shaped into circles and the other half like turtles, and grin at the customers who have just walked in. He watches you make your way over to a shelf several feet away from him to arrange the bread, and he stares long enough that you’ve taken notice. Your smile is bright and reaches your eyes, and he’s embarrassed to have been caught. His cheeks grow warm and you can probably see the dusting of red across his face, a speculation which doesn’t help alleviate this embarrassment one bit.

“Good morning, Bennett,” you greet him, more quietly since he’s closer.

He likes when you say his name, and it never fails to make his heart skip a beat and he stutters out an O-Oh, um… as if surprised that you’re talking to him, much less that you know who he is. It shouldn’t take him off guard that you know, considering how often he comes to the bakery, so he supposes it has more to do with the fact that he can’t believe his name should be spoken by a voice as gentle as yours, honeyed tones like the softly plucked notes of the Holy Lyre der Himmel.

Finally he musters an equally quiet Good morning in response, smiling back but he’s certain it looks more like a cringe, owed to his nerves. If it does, you don’t point it out, and simply return to your task. Only when another patron comes up to Bennett’s other side, muttering a pardon as they grab a loaf from the shelf he’s standing in front of, does he break his gaze from you. His hand that had been hovering above the bread that whole time he drops back down to his side, and he scoots to make room with another stutter and a sorry.

You’re back behind the counter when Bennett is ready to pay. The pile of bread, cake slices, sandwiches, and other miscellaneous pastries had in the past led you to ask him if these were snacks for the road, for you’d guessed him to be an adventurer doing commissions for the guild by the sword at his side. He’d chuckled and explained his actual purpose for buying as much as he did, and your grin had widened, and if he wasn’t imagining things, you’d been extra careful when packing every treat.

I’m sure they’ll really appreciate your gesture, you’d said. That’s sweet of you. And it’s not frequently that events in the course of his life run smoothly, but that day they had, and with no falter in his words he remarks it’s thanks to you, for you’re the reason there’s anything to bring back to his dads in the first place. You’d laughed and his chest tightened and he thinks that’s the point where he started to fall (to where, he hesitated to state exactly). But in any case, it was true—without you, there was no bakery filled to the brim with delicious food, and if he had anything to say about that, Mondstadt would be worse off for it.

This morning, Bennett is digging around his wallet for the appropriate amount of Mora while you pack what he’d picked out. Having gone through this process many times prior, he knows approximately how much it should cost.

“Ah—”

A few coins slip from his hand and clatter to the wooden floor, and he bends to pick them up. But on the way down, his head knocks into the tray that he neglected to push all the way onto the countertop, so part of it still stuck out. You blink in surprise at the jostling of the tray and his subsequent Ouch!, muffled because he’s obscured by the counter.

“Are you okay?” You sound genuinely worried, but to Bennett the accident had been no big deal. At least none of the food had fallen.

“Yeah,” he assures you. He’s still trying to gather up the stray Mora, fingers failing to get a proper grip on them and he huffs in slight exasperation. His face once more is burning from the embarrassment of being so clumsy. He’s clumsy around everyone, and it’s something he has long since come to accept, but it matters a lot more when it’s you.

Finally he stands back up, the money clutched in his fist victoriously. “Yeah!” he repeats now that you can hear him clearly. “It’s no big deal.”

For a second you don’t quite believe him, but it’s hard to argue with that smile on his face. There’s no pain he’s trying to hide (embarrassment, on the other hand, is a different issue entirely).

Upon handing him his package you tell him you’ll see him tomorrow and he feels sort of special because you don’t say it to anyone else. To others, you say Thank you, come again! but you know his routine and you know to expect him at the same time each morning. Judging by the look in your eyes and the sound of your voice when you see and greet him, you anticipate his visit every time, and his heart wants to soar out from the confines of his chest upon this realization and he is exhilarated. The wind and the new day have fulfilled their promise of an adventure, and the clock hasn’t even struck noon.

One day you’re a little distracted, focused on a paper in your hand as Bennett approaches the counter with his tray of baked goods. For the most part, your face gives nothing away, but then your brows furrow slightly, a subtle action he doesn’t miss, and he proceeds to ask if anything is wrong. He asks it kindly, keeps his tone neutral, wordlessly conveying that you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. He would hate to pry.

You purse your lips, pausing like you’re caught between saying yes and no. He waits patiently for whichever one it might be.

“I ran out of sugar and had been meaning to make more,” you start, opting to share with him what’s been troubling you.“I bought out Flora’s stock of sweet flowers but it wasn’t enough, so I may have to set aside time to pick more myself later.”

The mention of heading outside of the city makes Bennett perk up, for he never turns down a chance to go exploring. He’s about to offer to do it for you, but it’s the thought of possibly going with you instead that makes him hold back and rephrase his question.

“This afternoon?” he inquires, head tilting. You nod, and up until now he’d felt confident in the offer he was going to present, but then his nerves get the better of him and it doesn’t come out quite the way he was hoping. “I-I could go with you! You know, if you want! To protect you… Just in case…” He trails off and he wants to go hide in a hole. There are few other ways this could have gone worse.

You don’t answer right away, and he regrets having said anything at all, but your beautiful smile soon follows the silence and it sets his mind at ease, and you agree with a concise and cheery Sure! Well, at least the worst way this could have gone had not come to pass. It was the small victories for Bennett—just as important as the big ones. The next challenge would be to avoid making a fool of himself out there, in what should be his natural element; he does want to impress you. But that’s a big ask for someone like him…

Both of you agree to meet at the front gate in the late afternoon. By then, the traffic in the bakery is slow enough that you’re able to step away earlier than the normal closing time. You’ve changed into clothes more appropriate for walking around: in lieu of a dress, your typical work attire, you sport a tunic and trousers you don’t mind dirtying. The trousers are tailored to fit properly but the tunic is a tad big, the sleeves a bit too long, but Bennett thinks you look cute in it. A basket hangs on your forearm and you wave as you walk up to him.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” you say.

Bennett shakes his head. “Not long at all.” Technically the agreed upon meeting time was only five minutes ago, so you aren’t very late. Though he does refrain from sharing that he’d arrived early, in fear that he could end up late somehow and you would be the one who had to wait. Really, it’s been more like fifteen minutes for him, but he just keeps quiet about that.

One of the nice things about summer is that the sun sets later. There’s still a sufficient amount of light to illuminate the fields as you walk around in search of sweet flowers. At first, the extent of your conversation is discussing where you might be able to find a high concentration of them, then silence filled with the sifting of grass beneath your shoes and the occasional exclamation of having spotted a flower to be picked and tucked away in your basket.

Honestly, walking with you around the wilds of Mondstadt hadn’t been anywhere on Bennett’s list to do today, or any day really, not until he could muster the courage to invite you out like this, and who knew when that might be. Your need for sweet flowers had dropped the opportunity right into his lap, and thankfully he hadn’t squandered it. But now he’s at a loss as to what to talk about; he didn’t think he’d ever get this far.

Maybe you sense his struggle to come up with a topic of conversation because you’re the one to speak up, asking about his adventures and the commissions he takes. Done anything exciting recently?

Bennett’s eyes light up, a reaction which you can't help but smile at, and he regales you of the goings-on of his latest missions. He omits the instances where his clumsiness had made things more difficult (of which there were many), but each story is still truthful. Most of his commissions the past month hadn’t been anything too bold—after a mission that involved nearly getting himself trapped in a ruin due to solving a puzzle wrong then getting food poisoning on top of that from the snack he’d prepped that day, he’s been choosing jobs that he knows he’s more capable of.

To him, they aren’t too exciting, and in the larger scope of things, perhaps they aren’t, but you don’t seem to think that as you hang on each word. You’re absorbed in his story about trying to dismantle towers in a hilichurl camp, and gasp at the mention of their reinforcements coming to attack in the midst of it. Wow, you remark after he finishes his recounting of the event. You’re amazing, Bennett!

His heart does a flip again at the sound of his name and he shrugs offhandedly. He’s not inclined to think so, but your awed comment is sincere and has him reconsidering: yeah, that was pretty cool of him, wasn’t it? For all his clumsiness, he doesn’t often see the feats for what they are, accompanied by blunders or not, but you’re the fresh perspective he’d been missing, and he wishes you’d stepped into his life sooner.

The entirety of your outing together has thus far been free of any monsters, but as soon as Bennett makes this observation it’s like the universe has heard: hydro slimes suddenly pop out from the ground, halting you in your tracks. You squeak in surprise and Bennett is quick to shift into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and one arm out in front of you protectively.

“Just stay there!” he instructs before drawing his sword and rushing forward.

Luckily there aren’t many slimes to fight off, and they aren’t very big. His sword cuts through them easily, cleanly. They burst and spray water upon being sliced apart, so at the end, when they’re all dead, the only evidence they had been there to begin with is the slight dampness to his clothes and the squish of dirt turned to mud. With a sigh of triumph, Bennett resumes a relaxed stance, then sheathes his weapon and turns to you.

As instructed, you’ve stayed in place, but it seems to have been more out of being frozen in fear than anything else. You’re clutching your basket close, and once the slimes are gone, you follow Bennett’s lead and relax, shoulders releasing the tension they had been filled with for the duration of that fight. You let out a deep exhale of relief, hand placed over your heart which has yet to slow back down to its normal pace.

“Thank you.”

Bennett flashes a toothy grin and waves his hand as if to say It’s not a problem. “That’s what I’m here for isn’t it?”

You smile back. “I’m glad we went together.”

Together. He likes the sound of that. He thinks to himself that he’d go with you to other places too; you need only to give the word. To the edge of this world, and through a portal to the next? He’d meet you by the front gate at dawn.

He’s surprised that the encounter with those slimes had gone as smoothly as it had. It isn’t uncommon for him to get hit a few times, bruises quick to form on his arms or his legs. And it’s quite the run of luck, of which he’s ordinarily in short supply, that he should get through a fight with nary a scratch on him while with you. His efforts to impress are actually succeeding.

However, this is another case of speaking too soon, because he starts to walk back to you, but then his foot gets caught on a rock concealed by the tall grass, and he tumbles to the ground.

“Oof!”

His chest collides with the earth as he lands with a thud and the breath is stolen from his lungs. You gasp and close the gap between you, and in viewing you in his peripherals, he notes that you are much more graceful at it.

“Are you all right?”

Bracing his hands on the dirt, small bits of rock digging into his palms, Bennett pushes himself up to sit on his knees. “Yeah, I’m okay!” Here he thought he had handled himself perfectly well, but then just like that, his clumsiness returned, and once more before you he is awkward, blundering Bennett.

Unlike the incident at the bakery when he’d bumped his head into the tray, this fall had actually hurt, and he can’t hide it successfully, a slight wince of pain crossing his face in spite of his smile. Even if you hadn’t caught on to that, the injuries elsewhere on his body give it away completely.

“Your arms are all scraped up…” After Bennett stands back up, you gingerly take hold of his forearm and angle it to examine the scrapes there, thin red lines from tiny stones tearing the skin.

Your grip is light, like you’re scared to injure him further, and Bennett is thankful for the darkness that is setting in as the sun disappears and the moon begins its trek across the sky, for it conceals the way his cheeks redden to be this close to you, to be touched by you. The concern in your gaze as you look at his arm makes his chest squeeze but not in the good way, and he bends his knees slightly to duck into your line of view.

“Don’t worry! I’m fine.” And it’s true. He’s sustained worse, though he steers clear of sharing this part. He doesn’t like to see you worried.

He straightens up when you finally meet his eyes and dons his smile again, easy and reassuring. It seems to convince you, as you nod and let go. He drops his arm back down to his side but he’s already missing the feather-light sensation of your fingertips. Successfully reassured, your smile also returns, replacing the thin line of worry that your lips had previously been set in.

It’s dark now but the air is still warm, a consequence of the season. In the daytime the heat is more extreme, made even more so by the fire curling from the edge of his sword. At the conclusion of whatever commission he has taken, he’s left sweating, satisfied but exhausted. Missions in the summer are more difficult to get through, the sun beating down with little mercy and its heat lingering into the night, but he thinks that if he were to have you there with him, he’d hardly notice.

Your delicate gaze is the cool ocean breeze and your soft smile the deluge of waves washing over him, a force he receives gladly because he is falling into you, deeper into the expanse of your heart. He’s diving into the sea, the unbearable heat of summer long forgotten as he makes his way to the bottom. What he hopes to find he isn’t sure, but he’d be content to remain there forever, consumed by you and all the love you have to offer.

“Okay?” he asks, voice soft. You had nodded but he also wants verbal confirmation that you won’t burden yourself with worry anymore.

You catch on to his own need for reassurance, and he wants to sink into the refreshing fondness of your eyes as you watch him. “Okay.”

The moon up above illuminates your face, and he wants to run his fingers along all the parts it touches: the line of your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips. He yearns to be closer to you than that moonlight adorning your skin, and maybe it’s strange that he should be envious of it, of that light which has the privilege to hold you so near, but the feelings he has for you are what’s written about in books, and in those stories, people do tend to do strange things.

In the morning, he stops by the bakery as usual but this time is surprised when you set a cake down alongside the other baked goods he buys. You answer his question before he can voice it.

“For yesterday,” you state simply. “For my hero.”

Your—?

“I think ‘hero’ is too strong a word for it,” Bennett replies, chuckling quietly and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. After all, they had just been slimes.

You hum noncommittally, corner of your mouth lifted in a grin. “Maybe, but yesterday you were mine. So please take this as thanks.”

He’d like to be yours every day, and the thought of how nice that would be makes his whole world just a little brighter, like the crystal butterflies fluttering around him in the wild on the warm summer nights; and he hopes that the next adventure the wind guides him on leads straight back to you.

#bennett x reader #bennett imagine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #bennett #genshin impact #bubble-tea-bunny #queue

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

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Venti: First Meeting and Friendship HCs

First Meeting HCs

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The god of freedom certainly lived up to the title. A truly free spirit who only wished the same for others. He shaped the many hills and cliffs of Mondstadt with his own hand, and graciously bestowed his powers unto those he deemed worthy. And yet…there he sat - teetering on the edge of a barstool, completely and utterly intoxicated.

The red-head manning the bar rolls his eyes at the sorry display the archon was creating, and resumes cleaning the glass in his hand. However as a bell rings out - signaling a new patron - he looks up.

You enter the famed “Angels Share”, the best tavern in Mondstadt - or so you’ve been told. Really, you’ll decide that for yourself - is what you think as you slide into an empty seat at the bar. Eager to unwind after a long day of adventuring, you order your drink and attempt to relax.

But really, your night didn’t end how you’d hoped at all. You ended up with a loud and incredibly clingy bard hanging off of your shoulder spouting barely comprehensible rhymes and poems. You would’ve found amusement in the spectacle if you weren’t so tired. Shrugging him off did no good, as he was surprisingly strong for someone so small.

Thankfully, you got your sweet freedom as the bartender cut him off for the night, presenting the smaller boy with the shockingly large bill. A wave of pity washes over you as his face drops at the number.

He laughs awkwardly, attempting to convince the bartender that he could pay by other means, but the stoic man only sighs, trying to explain to the drop-dead drunk bard that he cannot keep the tavern open with “songs and sonnets”.

Really you were quite done with your failed attempt at relaxation - wanting to go home and just sleep the night away. Sliding a bag of Mora across the counter you state that it should be enough to cover both of your tabs. That was essentially all you’d earned via commission today, though, you can’t really find a reason to be mad about the extra expenditure. Helping people out - that’s just what you do. You don’t look twice as you exit the bar, though you feel a pair of eyes on your hooded figure as the door swings shut.

And that was that - you never saw the drunken bard again. Or so you thought. As the very next day you spotted him out of the corner of your eye while scouting around a Hilichurl camp, but as soon as you looked he was gone. And then that very same evening as you sat down for dinner at Good Hunter. Then several times over the next few days.

It was ticking you off, not just the fact that you had pretty much obtained a stalker, but the extra stress he brought with him as you now had to worry about his well being on top of yours during battle. You even started taking less dangerous commissions to further guarantee his safety. You didn’t really know or like the guy, but you certainly didn’t want him hurt, or worse; dead.

And by that point he wasn’t even trying to hide or disguise himself - trailing a few feet behind you nearly everywhere you went, drawing perplexed gazes from the townsfolk as you wandered from store to store for supplies. You were trying your best to keep your composure - to pretend he wasn’t even there in the first place - but the longer the charade went on the more cracks that appeared in your mask.

You didn’t mean to snap at him, honestly, but you were tired of putting up with a complete stranger following you around for no good reason - so you yelled at him. Right there in the middle of the market, the bard stood stunned - taken aback by your sudden outburst. He recovered quickly of course, smiling up/down at you like he hadn’t just been shouted at in clear view of the publics eye.

He hastily explains his actions, identifying himself as Venti - a travelling bard seeking inspiration for his next story. That night in the bar, he had been there lamenting - drowning his sorrows in wine over his recent pieces. They were all lacking ingenuity - a certain bit of flair that makes a story truly unforgettable. And that’s where you came in. You had caught his attention with your selfless act of generosity, so much so that it had given him that spark he he had been searching for. So naturally, he followed that spark - hoping it would continue to present him with the same creativity as before.

As you listen to his reasoning, the initial anger you felt mellows. You’re more than relieved that he’s not actually a creepy stalker, just a bard looking for inspiration.

Apologizing sheepishly for your actions, you scratch the back of your head. In that moment it was impossible to look into the boys eyes. You felt bad, truly. You had misread the situation entirely - thought it wasn’t all your fault. If the bard had simply approached you in the first place this whole fiasco could’ve all been avoided.

As you voice these thoughts to Venti he hums in understanding. He returns your apology with one of his own - bowing deeply with his beret in hand - shocking you and the few random townsfolk still paying attention to the scene.

Deeply embarrassed by the confused gazes the bard was drawing to them, you hastily accept his apology, tugging your hood further down to hide your hot face. Honestly the idea of just running away from the situation sounded quite appealing, but instead you restrain the urge - opting to walk past the boy as quick as possible.

Just as your shoulders brush, a hand latches onto your wrist - stopping your escape in its tracks. This time it’s Ventis turn to look sheepish, as he officially asks to accompany you on your exploits. He offers you entertainment and conversation, as well as any other skills he may or may not have - the latter only serving to confuse rather than convince you.

“Your journey would be far more enjoyable with a skilled bard such as myself by your side. Perhaps you would even allow me to write a ballad of your conquests?”

It’s not entirely uncommon for a bard to travel with an adventurer for inspiration, you suppose to yourself. Though you’re still more than a bit apprehensive on the matter. It’s not that you don’t want his company - really it does get quite lonely alone out on the road - it’s simply his safety that concerns you. But upon voicing this Venti simply chuckles, exclaiming that he’s much stronger than his appearance lets on.

Now - with no real reason to refuse - you accept his offer, earning a cheer from the bard. And so your joint journey began - you and Venti against whatever tasks or monsters needed tackling.

Friendship HC

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It goes without saying that if you didn’t have a vision before, you certainly have one now. Within the first week in fact. Waking up in the early hours of the day to a soft blue glowing vision beside your head was not something you ever thought you’d experience - but of course you’re not complaining.

Upon shaking the bard awake to show him your discovery he only gives a rather tame reaction - as if he already knew you had it.

“Hmm? You woke up to a vision by your side? My, my - what luck you seem to possess! Perhaps now you may go into battle with less distress.”

Travelling with Venti is never dull, as he fills the silence with stories of old - tales of the long deserted original city of Mondstadt, the creation of the seven nations themselves and other obscurities that you don’t remember hearing about in any history book. Often times he interrupts his own story to spill his own hot take on a major historical figure or deity - hearing him call Andrius a “mother hen in denial” had you spit out your drink. His storytimes often end with you wondering how exactly someone so young would have knowledge of times long gone. He always shrugs it off, quickly changing the subject with a smile filled with secrets. For a boy so young he talks as if he’s been around for centuries.

Any looming worries over his well being are quickly dismissed once you see him fight. His nimble fingers and sharp eyes shoot down all matter of foes in rapid succession, and his skills at utilizing anemo are completely unparalleled. Really, you’re left wondering how he’s not the adventurer here.

You will absolutely fall victim to his pranks there’s nothing you can do about it. Whether it’s the wind blowing your cloak around in your face, extra jueyun chilies in your food or a slime condensate down the back of your shirt - you cannot escape the impish bards mischievous side. It’s when he suddenly falls quiet that you have to worry. A silent Venti is a scheming Venti.

However this is not a one-sided deal at all, he welcomes - no, insists - that you prank him back. He doesn’t want you to be left out of the fun after all! So get him back for that frog he put in your pack, or the time he kept pushing air currents in your direction so you couldn’t land your glider. Really; the more creative the better. If you’re able to prank him successfully he’ll laugh with you as you celebrate, praising you for your victory. But be warned that his next scheme will be twice as good as yours.

If you ever need a break from his shenanigans, go hang out with a cat. He won’t approach you while the animal is around, however he will be pouting up a storm from a distance.

You’ve gotten to discover many quirks of the bard clad in green over time, like how the tips of his hair seem to glow brighter when he’s in a good mood - especially when he laughs, and that he’s completely repulsed by cheese. If he ever bothers you too much you can get him back by chasing him while holding the stuff. Some of that nasty, stinky stuff Sara has at Good Hunter should do the trick. Mind you that the boy is incredibly spry - so good luck keeping up.

Eventually, he ends up revealing his true identity to you after the guilt of lying begins to eat away at his heart - making it harder to keep up his persona. Really he’d wanted to tell you for months at that point, but a lingering feeling of apprehension - a worry that you may no longer see him the same way - kept holding him back.

“Y/N, I wish to tell you a truth I’ve been hiding. You see…in reality, I am Lord Barbatos.”

“…”

“That…actually explains so much…”

He’s relieved to find that nothing has changed between the two of you after his revelation. You still treat him like Venti the bard, just as you always have. It’s a weight off his shoulders to be sure, and you can tell his overall mood has improved too.

It’s still kind of shocking when he switches to “Barbatos mode”, as you’ve taken to calling it. Spouting bars of philosophical gibberish at the most random of times leaves you blinking in utter confusion and often times just hurts your brain.

At the end of the day, the God of freedom is incredibly lonely. The best way to describe it is that he’s detached - he’s out of touch with his ever-changing homeland and the people that reside in it. Only ever appearing to handle a major problem or calamity at hand and then sending himself into a deep slumber for hundreds of years.

Waking up each time is like mental whiplash for the poor god, as he sees towns rise and fall, people come and go and things change again just he’s beginning to get used them. It takes a toll on him - though he won’t let anyone see that.

He craves companionship and the feeling of belonging that comes with it more than anything. Placing unconditional trust in someone else, backing them up when the goings get tough and having them do the same in return. Providing a shoulder to lean on in moments of weakness and being so comfortable that breathing easy becomes the simplest thing in the world. That’s what he wants. Barbatos may not be human but his vessel is.

That’s why Barbatos cherishes his friendship with you so much. He knows you - like all other humans - have a finite amount of time in this world. In time, wrinkles will adorn your face, and strands of silvery gray will appear in your hair. You bones will ache as age seeps into your body. And yet he will experience no such afflictions - forever wearing the face of a young boy from another time. Ever ageless, frozen in time.

The dull ache that spreads through his chest at the thought of watching the one who he considers his closest friend wither away in front of him is…crushing. Even though he knows your time alive is brief, and that your death would only cause him more pain - he can’t stop himself.

He’ll spend nearly every day by your side, telling you tales of yore, pulling pranks and practical jokes, covering your back in battle and being there when you need it most. He wants you to experience the land and all its freedoms. He wants you to get the most out of what little time you have in such a vast and expansive world.

You’re the closest friend he’s had since the real Venti - and he sees bits of him in you too. You help fill the gaping hole of loneliness in his chest - one stemming from a millennia of duty and repressed guilt.

He knows you’ll eventually leave him, and one day hopefully he’ll come to terms with that. But for now, he’s content with you by his side, racing off into whatever dangers lie ahead.

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This turned out so much longer that I thought it would I’m so sorry ;-;

I know you said all you wanted were headcannons but I think I went a lil too far…ok ALOT too far

I had fun though…so thanks for giving me something to work on!

—

No need to feel sorry! I loved it so much. Headcanons, fics, whatever you want^^ I stan talent and you have it 💕💕

I don’t know if you lads remember but when I was struggling over Venti HCs, this was the friend I asked for crumbs of inspiration that ended up giving me an entire fic. I went absolutely feral over it and wanted to share it with you all.

So thank you to @fulltimeventisimp [alt account] for your beautiful work and feeding us all Venti crumbs. I swear to god, if there is a Venti re-run and you don’t get 6 venti’s in one 10 roll it’s time to riot.

[No worries about tags]

Also, I know this isn’t my work but I’m going to tag you all in this

@mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @aanne2601 @aklxojjk @hanniejji

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skiesofthesketchy · 4 years

Text

Body Language - Part 2

***

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female reader

Note: Hi!! Y’all I can’t even believe how many people liked this story, like for real thank you all so much for the love and support! I hope you enjoy the second part just as much :) Again, writing smut is pretty new for me, so I hope this leaves you all hot and bothered (because GOD was I uncomfortable writing this) and I’d love to hear any feedback y’all have. Thanks SO MUCH love you. Thanks to @bricksatanakinswindow for helping me when I was STUCK.

Sorry if I tagged you if you didn’t wanna be... haha my taglist is a disaster rn. Really hoping I tagged everyone that wanted to be !

Warnings: fluffff, flirting, swearing, dirty dancing, SMUT, alcohol, 18+++

Word count: 5.3k... this long as hell, i did this for you lovelies

Part 1 (highly recommend you read part 1 first)

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It was finally dark, and the only light came from several small bonfires littered across the boneyard. You swayed happily as you watched people equally as drunk as you dance on the designated dance floor. The music surged through your body as you closed your eyes to feel every sensation. The breeze blowing your hair away from your face, the bass from the music vibrating in your abdomen, the laughter and chatter of the party mixing in with the waves crashing on the shore.

“Whatcha thinkin ‘bout, pretty girl?” Your moment of bliss ended when your eyes snapped open, finding JJ next to you. His smile was sweet, but his eyes displayed amusement.

“Nothing in particular,” you replied. You took a sip of your beer and returned your gaze back to the dance floor. “You having a good night?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Are you?”

“Yeah.”

Then there was silence, JJ standing next to you with hands stuffed in his pockets, and you sighed.

It’s been two weeks since you had slept together. You wish you could say it wasn’t awkward, but it sort of was. Since then, you two haven’t had a single moment alone. Besides work and family stuff, you were usually with the other pogues, and you couldn’t really talk about what happened with them around.

Even if you guys didn’t talk about what happened that day, you just wanted to hang out with him. At least then, you’d be reassured that your friendship was still the same, that the night you got carried away with each other didn’t change a thing. You were scared though, that maybe things had changed.

For one, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You had seen JJ in a totally different light. That night, he wasn’t just your reckless, womanizing best friend. He was the man kissing up and down your body, making every inch of you feel safe and loved. He was the man bringing you to your high over and over again as he thrusted his hips into yours. The man that caressed your skin and left sweet kisses on your neck and shoulder as you finally drifted to sleep in his arms. He was everything, but you pushed your feelings away, deciding it was just amazing sex and that was the only reason you missed him so much.

One thing was clear to you, though. Sex with JJ was a one time thing. It always was when it came to him. It was only ever going to be a casual night of fun, and you were okay with that. At least you hoped you would be. Either way, you just wanted to know you still had your best friend.

The two of you basked in the painful silence, each of you not knowing what to say to the other. You didn’t let it show on your face, but it felt like your heart was breaking. This wasn’t what you wanted. If you knew things were going to be weird, you wouldn’t have kissed him in the first place.

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked you. You looked up at him for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He hated the awkwardness just as much, and decided it was bullshit. You guys were best friends, so he was going to break the ice, even if it meant talking it out and finding out that you regretted that night he thought about so often.

You smiled, taking his hand that he offered to you. He spun you around, making you giggle as you fell into his chest after the spontaneous twirl. “There’s that laugh,” he smiled. You beamed as he led you to the dance floor, thinking maybe things aren’t so bad between you two after all.

The speakers played some obscure slow song, which encouraged JJ to wrap his arms around your waist and start to sway. You laughed while placing your arms around his neck. “I heard you’ve been dodging dudes all night,” he said as you two found a steady rhythm together.

“I don’t really feel like socializing with tourons tonight,” you shrugged. The corners of his mouth turned up. “What about you? Why aren’t you trying to get with any of the tourons swooning over you?” You quirked your brow, humor laced in your tone.

“No need. I’m already the luckiest guy here.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

“Cause I’m dancing with you, stupid.” He laughed as realization lit up your face, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks, the butterflies waking up in your stomach. He looked down at you with a dopey smile on his face, loving the sight of you.

While you hadn’t been able to get JJ off your mind, he was struggling just the same. He had already decided that asking you what girls like in bed was most likely the best decision he’s ever made in his whole damn life. The feelings that he’d always had for you only grew tenfold. Before, he kept them so hidden, simmering in the depths of his heart without giving them any of his focus or energy, knowing that you’d never be interested in being more than friends. After that night though, he wondered if he might actually have a chance.

The way you initiated everything with confidence had him completely wrapped around your finger. The way you tugged on his hair while moaning out his name had him lying awake at night with an image of you swimming in his mind. The way you kissed him so passionately had him wondering if he’d ever feel such desire for another girl again. He thought, just maybe, you felt the same things he did.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, pulling you closer so your head was resting in the crook of his neck.

“Why thank you, good sir. You look handsome as well.” JJ chuckled softly into your hair, enjoying the scent of your shampoo. You two swayed like that for a moment, just holding each other and relaxing into one another’s touch. You both were relieved that the tension seemed to be gone. Everything was perfect, and you didn’t know why you were so worried in the first place.

There was a thought floating around in the back of your mind though. The tiniest whisper of the turmoil you’ve been going through for the past two weeks. Could you possibly like JJ as more than just a friend?

You pulled away from his embrace when the song changed. The people around you jumped and swayed drunkenly to the more upbeat music as you grabbed JJ’s hands to dance with him. He watched you with a grin on his face as you danced wildly, making his arms flail around with your hands clasped in his. “Come on, J. Get into it,” you laughed.

You grabbed his hips to help him start moving, and he chuckled at your attempts to get him to actually dance. “How ‘bout you just dance around me and make me look good, babe.” You glared teasingly at his smug expression, but decided you could do him one better.

“Fine.” You suddenly spun around and placed his hands on your hips. He took this opportunity to pull you against him, your back flush against his chest. You caught him completely by surprise as you ground your hips back into his, oh so subtly, smirking once you heard the tiniest grunt escape his lips.

You swayed your hips side to side, JJ following your every move with his body attached to yours. Your hands fell over his as you guided them to drag down to your thighs, then back up again to your hips. JJ’s insides seemed to ignite from the way you moved against him. Your confidence bubbling to the surface gave him flashbacks from the night you kissed him, the night you two became closer than you ever were.

You continued to grind against your friend, your hands reaching up behind you to grasp at his long blonde locks. You don’t know where this confidence came from, but you guessed it was the alcohol. JJ definitely didn’t seem to mind your flirty dancing though, and that helped ease your mind. Your eyes widened when you felt his growing erection press into your ass.

Your first instinct was to stop your movements, but you couldn’t deny the excitement that swelled inside of you. He was enjoying this as much as you were, so you let your doubts slip to the back of your mind and ground into him once again.

JJ grunted again, which gave you immense satisfaction until he held you still by his aggressive hold on your hips. “What do you think you’re doing, Y/N?” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You would have been disheartened by his question if his voice wasn’t so raspy.

“What do you mean?” you asked, feigning innocence. You slowly dipped down into a squat before coming back up, your ass making contact with his groin once more, and JJ fought to hold in a moan.

He abruptly turned you around so you were face to face, bodies just as close as before. “You know exactly what I mean.” This time, he was the one to grind his hips forward, and you gasped at the feeling of his hard-on pressing into your front. His eyes were glazed over in desire, and just the sight made your heart rate pick up. “You’re driving me crazy.”

You smiled at his confession, and you felt a familiar tingle start in your abdomen. You laced your arms around his neck and pushed your chest into his. He stayed perfectly still as he watched your face inch closer to his, eyes fluttering shut on instinct. He prepared for your lips to meet his, but you kissed his jaw instead.

You pressed soft kisses down his jawline and on his throat, the boy not being able to do anything besides experience every single sensation you thrust upon him. Your hands traveled down his chest as you pulled away from him, not being able to hide your satisfaction. He was so turned on, and you loved that you were able to make him this way.

“Hey, where are you going?” he growled, grabbing you again by your waist and pulling you against him.

You laughed. “I thought I was driving you crazy?” Your eyebrow lifted teasingly, and he groaned.

“Which is exactly why I’m gonna drag you out of this fucking party and have my way with you.” One of his hands came up to your neck, thumb caressing your jaw, his tenderness leaving you breathless.

Despite your resolve unraveling by the second, you wanted to keep up your teasing. “Me? Don’t you have some hot touron to get back to?”

He pulled you closer and rested his forehead on yours, obviously not amused by your comment. “Y/N...” he rasped, eyes boring into yours.

You smirked, batting your eyelashes. “Yes, Maybank?”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He closed the small distance between you and crashed his lips onto yours. Your arms naturally circled around his neck once again as you matched his eagerness and gave in to him.

Kissing him, all of your doubts and confusion about your relationship with JJ seemed to vanish as you allowed your body to melt into him. It was obvious now that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. The crowded party full of drunk people dancing became an afterthought as you let yourself be completely engulfed in the alluring man that is your best friend. The kiss was fueled by passion and the heat of the moment was quickly becoming too much to bear.

You pulled away abruptly, and he let out a sound of annoyance. “Let’s get out of here,” you said, eyes gleaming.

He smiled before pecking your lips again. “Yes ma’am.” You kept your body close to cover him as he reached into his pants to tuck his erection into the waistband of his shorts so that others wouldn’t be able to see the noticeable tent. He grabbed your hand and quickly started leading you away from the dance floor and across the beach.

Unbeknownst to you, the other pogues had watched the entire scene unfold.

“What the fuck is happening right now?” John B. asked, jaw resuming its previous position on the floor.

Kiara and Pope didn’t have an answer as they watched you two practically run off hand in hand. “I think they’re gonna go fuck,” Pope said, voice distant as if he couldn’t believe the words himself.

“When the hell did this happen?” Kie asked, looking to the two boys. But they only shrugged. All of them were completely in the dark about your previous hook up, and seeing you and JJ so intimate had them all more than shocked.

“Good for them, I guess?” Pope offered. John B. laughed, taking another swig of his beer. Kiara laughed too with a shake of her head.

“Can’t wait to confront them about this tomorrow.” The boys nodded in agreement, the group suddenly finding it hilarious that two of their best friends were hooking up.

You and JJ had made it into the van and he drove back to the Chateau like a mad man. You told him the pogues would be pissed that you guys left them without a ride, but he didn’t care in the slightest. All he could think about was you lying underneath him, begging for him to make you cum.

It wasn’t long before you were stumbling into the small house, JJ’s lips trying to capture yours while guiding you to the bedroom he slept in. You giggled when he tripped over the coffee table and fell into you. It was so chaotic, but you didn’t mind. It felt as if you were giddy teenagers in love, too excited to get to the bedroom to care about anything else.

“Fucking finally,” he huffed when you two were in his room, and he slammed the door shut. You sat on the bed, looking at him with the biggest smile on your face. The thing you wanted more than anything for the last two weeks was standing right in front of you, gawking at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

He crawled over you, and you promptly laid on your back, staring up at your long-time best friend. “So did those little tricks I taught you help you in the bedroom?” you asked playfully, even though you didn’t really want to think about JJ sleeping with other girls.

He scoffed, putting more of his weight on you as his face inched closer. “I haven’t been with anyone since.” This caused confusion to cross your features. JJ was the biggest manslut you knew. It was uncommon for him to go more than a week without hooking up with someone.

“Really?” The question fell from your lips involuntarily.

JJ laughed while brushing your hair away from your face. “How could I when the only girl I think about is you?” His eyes pierced into yours, and you could tell he was being sincere. What shocked you more than his words was the way he looked at you. If you weren’t mistaken, it kinda looked like he was in love.

You were glowing. You didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear the words until he spoke them. With arms wrapping behind his neck, you pulled him down to catch his lips with yours. The kiss was soft and warm, making your stomach erupt in butterflies. It suddenly felt like there was no rush now that you two were alone in each other’s arms, which was sweet and had you grinning like a child at the carnival. But the truth is that you couldn’t wait to get the boy undressed.

With considerable strength, you pushed JJ off of you and he fell to your side. He looked at you confused, but chuckled when you situated yourself on top of him, straddling his hips. You swiftly peeled off your shirt before leaning over him and kissing him again. “Someone’s eager,” he smirked against your lips.

“Shut up,” you grumbled. You sat up and pulled him up with you by tugging on the collar of his shirt. You didn’t waste any time pulling the material up over his head, and he laughed again. “Damn, baby. If I knew you wanted me this bad, I would’ve gotten you alone sooner.” He was teasing you, and you weren’t amused.

“I said shut up, Maybank.” He was going to laugh again, loving how impatient you were, but you surely shut him up by crashing your lips to his once again. Warm hands caressed your sides with thumbs skimming your ribcage as the kiss quickly turned into a hungry battle between tongues. You ground into his lap to find his erection growing again, and the excitement only fueled your movements.

You got off of him and started unbuttoning his shorts. He lifted his hips to help you slide the shorts and boxers down his legs, and they fell to the floor along with his shoes. Entranced by the sight of his cock, you were about to get on your knees, but he grabbed your hands to stop you. “Hey, hey, easy baby. Let’s get you out of these clothes first.” You didn’t miss the smug expression on his face.

You were standing in front of him from where he sat on the edge of the bed, and he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. He pulled you closer by your waist so that he could attach his mouth to one of your nipples. You raked your fingers through his hair as he started leaving trails of open mouth kisses on your chest, hands unbuttoning your shorts and tugging them down your legs along with your panties.

You felt your arousal grow with each hot kiss he pressed onto your skin. He moved slowly, as if he was savoring the taste of every inch of your body, all for him. The attention he was giving your breasts with each swipe of his tongue and twist of his rough fingertips made you dizzy. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized that this was far more intimate than just sex.

You softly tugged his hair to pull his face away from your skin, and he looked up at you with a grin. With hands on his flushed cheeks, you kissed him fiercely and he could feel the burning hunger from within you. As much as you enjoyed soft and loving JJ, you needed him right now.

Your lips moved to his jaw and you kissed down his throat while your hands traveled down his sculpted torso. Your kisses trailed down his abs to underneath his belly button as you slowly got onto your knees, and JJ was holding his breath in anticipation, fingers weaving through your hair to collect it in a loose ponytail.

When you two hooked up, the way he pleasured you with his mouth had you thinking about it constantly ever since. You hadn’t returned the favor though, so you were excited to finally have your hands on him. You didn’t think you’d ever get the chance again, so who could blame you for being a little eager? You wanted to see the man unravel in front of you as you took control with your lips wrapped around him.

You took his stiff length in your hand and pumped a few times as you glanced up at JJ through your lashes. His cheeks were already turning red from arousal. The sight of you on your knees was enough for him to throw you on the bed and finally bury himself into you, but he held back. He’d be an idiot to stop you now.

He gasped when you took him in your mouth, his tip hitting your soft palate. With a swipe of your tongue underneath the head, he involuntarily bucked his hips up into your face. You had just begun, and he was already finding it hard to control himself.

You held his hips down firmly as you started to slowly bob your head. You would switch between taking as much of him as you could without gagging and only focusing on his swollen head. His grip on your hair tightened when you harshly grazed the tip of his cock with your tongue, his head falling back with the most beautiful moan you’d ever heard. “You are so sexy,” he choked out.

You smiled as more moans fell from his lips, and you could tell he was close. “Fuck, baby. Just like that,” he panted. You loved that you could make him feel this good even more than you enjoyed blowing him. You released your hold on his hips so that your right hand could wrap around him and pump while you sucked harder, head bobbing faster.

“Fuck, Y/N. Fuck.” ‘He’s so close. Only a little longer,’ you thought, heart racing as exhaustion started to creep up on you, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to explode with your lips still around him, knowing you had done a job well done.

Without warning, he pulled you away from him by his grip on your hair. He hadn’t cum, and you were confused. You didn’t have time to ask him why as he was already picking you up and throwing you onto the bed, your hair fanning around your head on the pillow as you bounced onto it.

“As much as I love that pretty little mouth of yours, it’s my turn,” he rasped, holding himself over you with arms on either side of your head.

He looked so damn good, messy blonde locks falling over his dark blue eyes, lips pouted and cheeks tinged pink. He kissed you hard as he thrusted his hips into you, his stiff member brushing against your clit. You hadn’t realized how aroused you already were just from sucking him off, and you gasped at the contact.

His lips left yours and hungrily attached to the pocket between your neck and collarbone as his fingers traveled down your body to prod at your clit. He was sucking on your skin harshly and it was clear he wanted to leave a mark. He wanted everyone to know that you were his, even though you two hadn’t talked about your relationship yet. He didn’t know how you felt, but he was certain that he couldn’t get enough of you.

“JJ,” you panted. You tried to push the man away, but he wouldn’t let up. Two long fingers had dipped easily into your wet entrance, teasing you by not going in too far. His thumb rubbed slow circles onto your clit, and as good as it felt, it wasn’t enough for you.

You wound your hand into his hair and tugged, making his gaze meet yours. God, how he loved you pulling his hair. “Stop teasing,” you said. He smirked before pecking your lips, his hand resuming the painfully slow action. He basked in the sight of you squeezing your eyes shut, trying to hold in your moans. “Seriously, J,” you grumbled. “If you’re not going to do something, then get the hell off of me and I’ll take control.”

You thought he might’ve complied, but of course he didn’t. Your impatience was much too amusing for him, and his dopey grin made you want to punch him. “Not a chance, princess.” You huffed, getting annoyed as you felt the knot in your stomach start to tighten, much too slow for your liking. “I like you like this, begging for me to make you feel good.”

“JJ...” you warned.

“I think you could do a bit more begging, don’t you think, Y/N?” You hated his cocky smirk. You had no idea he was such a fucking tease.

“J, please,” you sighed, almost a whisper. If he didn’t do something soon, you swore you’d shove him off of you and take care of it yourself.

Suddenly, his two fingers rammed into your core, connecting harshly with your g-spot. “Fuck!” you screamed. He smiled, bringing his face down to leave more kisses on your neck as his hand picked up speed and rammed into you over and over. Moans were escaping your mouth and getting louder, your control lessening with each thrust of his hand.

It was only moments later than you were shaking from your climax, JJ grinning over you as you cried his name. You were kind of surprised that you hadn’t lasted long, but peering up at the man hovering over you, you figured out why. Just looking at him turned you on. The feelings you had been ignoring resurfaced and you knew that you’d never be able to look at your best friend in the same way again.

It wasn’t just how skillful he was in bed, it was everything else on top of it. You had been friends for years and had always clicked so well, so you’re not sure why possibly loving JJ never crossed your mind until now. “What are you thinkin ‘bout, pretty girl?” he broke you out of your thoughts. You laughed at his repeated words from earlier in the night.

“You,” you beamed. You reached your hand up to brush his hair away from his face, his blue eyes gleaming bright.

“Oh yeah? What about me?” You shook your head, trying to find the words, but you were at a loss with how good he looked, his perfect lips so close to yours. “About how amazing I am at sex?” He was only joking, and tickled your sides, eliciting uncontrollable laughter from you.

“About how good I make you feel? Huh? How I can make you cum in a matter of minutes?” he continued to guess as he relentlessly tickled you. You were laughing and trying your hardest to push him away from you and stop his attack, but your efforts were useless. “Tell me, baby,” he chuckled, knowing you couldn’t get a word out.

“JJ, jesus christ, stop!” He laughed again, then stopped touching you all together, slumping into the spot next to you on the bed.

“I hate you,” you gasped, trying your hardest to catch your breath while turning on your side to look at him.

“No way. You love me,” he smiled, placing a soft kiss onto the tip of your nose.

“I think I do.” You didn’t know why you said it, it just felt right. You’d never been scared to tell him anything before, so why should this be any different. His eyes never left yours, but confusion and doubt swam in them and he didn’t say anything. “I think I love you.”

Then he was grinning. He pulled you into his chest and kissed you more passionately than previously tonight. You laughed into the kiss, taking it as a good sign. “I think I love you too,” he said after pulling away. Now you were the one smiling.

Who knew you’d be confessing your love to your best friend, cuddling naked in his bed? You certainly couldn’t have pictured this moment a few weeks ago. You kissed him again and let yourself enjoy his warmth. You both felt like you were on top of the world, in the comfort of each other’s embrace. It was all so new but felt so familiar at the same time.

You crawled on top of him and was reminded of his erection, something you still hadn’t taken care of yet. With one more peck to his lips, you reached over him to the bedside table where you knew he kept the condoms.

He watched you intensely, hands running up and down your thighs as you opened up the wrapper with your teeth. You took the liberty of sliding the rubber over his cock, and you both were more than ready for what was coming next.

You slid his length into your entrance and lowered yourself until all of him was in you, unable to hold in your gasp. He rubbed comforting circles into your hips as you adjusted to his size. Once you did, you were bouncing fast, not willing to waste any more time. He loved the sight of you, your tits bouncing and your lips parted, sounds of pleasure spilling out of them.

Both of his hands grabbed at your boobs roughly, making you whimper in pleasure as you tried to speed up your movements. The grunts that escaped from his mouth were cheering you on, and you ignored your sore muscles as you chased your high, but you were more concerned that he reached his.

“This okay, J?” you asked breathlessly.

“Baby,” he moaned. “You’re fucking incredible.” He pulled you down by the back of your neck to crash your lips together. You both hummed and moaned into each other’s mouths as you continued to ride him, both of you getting closer and closer.

He could tell you were slowing down and getting tired, so he swiftly flipped you over so that he was on top. He was between your legs and firmly held your thighs apart as he picked up where you left off. He kissed you one last time before sitting up on his knees and ramming into you roughly.

Your second orgasm of the night was quickly approaching, the knot in your stomach winding tightly. Your hands grasped at the sheets as he pounded into you, over and over. His name was lost in your series of moans, his getting louder by the second. You both were only moments from release.

He switched his position from kneeling in front of you to placing his forearms on either side of your head, the new angle making you cry out. “Look at me, Y/N,” he rasped, begging you to open your eyes. His were glazed over in lust just like yours, and you held his gaze as he thrusted into you, his movements becoming desperate.

“I love you, baby,” he said, and you repeated his words back to him, both of you lost in the pleasure, thoughts getting fuzzy. “Are you close?” All you could do was nod as you bit your bottom lip to hold in your noises. “Cum for me, Y/N.” And you did.

It was only three more thrusts until he was cumming with you, hips bucking sporadically to ride out both your highs. No words were exchanged as he laid on top of you, exhaustion and complete euphoria clouding the room. His head rested in the crook of your neck as you both fought to catch your breaths, and you could still feel him twitch inside of you.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he whispered, kissing your neck. “I love you. I mean it.”

You grinned. As confused as you were only hours ago, you knew now that you loved him too. You caressed his soft cheek with your thumb, gazing at the man that just offered himself completely to you.

“I love you too,” you smiled softly, kissing him again. It was warm and sweet, your bodies molded together. It was like nothing mattered except for this moment right here.

“What the fuck are we gonna tell the pogues?” he asked. You just laughed with a shrug.

“We’ll think about that later.” You rolled over so that you were on top of him now, admiring his happy face underneath you before you kissed him again.

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Tags: @sunwardsss @xx-randomshit-xx17 @kikinuke2 @prince-pope @pm-my-hubbies @chickenfirstboyslater @sexualparkour @danicarosaline @pink-meringues @obxmxybxnk @rudyypankow @rudyismymanperiod @popcsheyward @lunaposey

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Masterlist

#jj maybank #outerbanks #outer banks #body language #skiesofthesketchy #jj maybank x reader #pope heyward #john b. routledge #kiara carrera #outer banks fic #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #jj x reader #obx #bricksatans

851 notes · View notes

iotiamohd · 3 years

Video

@iotiamo follow for follow? <3

Schrödinger’s Leak

We’re extremely sorry to say: this is fake. We made it because we’re agents of chaos to prove that it was possible to do something like this in two days. It took a lot of work at the sacrifice of our sanity, but we did it, and filmed on a phone like the original leak was, it could pass off as real. (Look through this blog if you want to see the ugly truth of the HD version.)

The problem is...we were originally doing this to prove that the leak was real, because “no way someone would do this in two day, especially without getting paid”, and instead not only we realized it’s possible, but we’re left with more doubts than before. Keep on reading if you’re interested in what we (didn’t) find out, and what we did to put this together.

We could have posted this a bit earlier, but we didn’t want to distract from the #SomethingToSay campaign.

IO TI AMO

Guys. Guys, we wish we could explain the sheer amount of things Vittorio Guerrieri, Cas’ voice actor, has been in. This man is in every anime dub ever, it’s impressive—we knew finding that specific “Io ti amo” was a losing battle, but we still tried.

Oh, God, did we try. We went through English scripts of all the rom-coms he’s dubbed; compared that to the Italian subtitles of those same movies, looked for working links to stream the Italian dub and check if the “I love you”s we found were the right one....brain cells were lost. Progress was not made.

We settled on using the one in Marley & I (lmao), that Owen Wilson’s character says to the dog to his wife. It’s even better than the one in the leak, in our humble opinion, @ og leaker, suck our collective dicks.

Pictured here: Owen Wilson confessing his undying love for Dean Winchester (as he should).

ANCHE IO

The closest match we had is Dean's Anch'io, (me too).

Although it wasn't a Supernatural "exclusive" line, we decided to search within the original scripts and look for an Italian corrispondance. We found it.

2x20 [9.54] - What Is And What Should Never Be It not only was a perfect match in terms of sounds, but after analyzing the file with Audacity we had no doubt about it. Furthermore, if you overlap the OG leak's "me too" with the one we found, they seem to perfectly fit.

Listen to the cleaned and compared audios here, and stay tuned for our mixtape, it’s gonna be straight fire.

Here are the graphs. The “Anche io” from 2x20:

“Anche io” from the leak:

Obviously we didn’t expect them to look the same, considering the differences in audio quality, but they’re still very similar. It was listening to the audios side by side that convinced us.

...Is this proof that the leak is fake? Idk. Probably yes. But what if it’s a coincidence that they’re so similar? How different could the two graphs for two small words said by the same person possibly be, after all. And what about all the other lines that we couldn’t find a match for? You see now why we’re conflicted.

CASTIEL

The original idea was to go through every. single. time. Dean says “Castiel” in the Italian dub, hoping to find a perfect match for the one in the leak. We figured every other line could have been taken from the voice actors’ older works (both Castiel’s and Dean’s are very popular here in Italy, and their voices have appeared in...everything, basically)—but that “Castiel” had to come form Supernatural.

We didn’t find it. We went through a lot of the episodes with Castiel in them, the ones with more emotional scenes first, and found nothing...we ended up getting distracted by the search for Mi dispiace, Dean, when we realized that also had to come from Supernatural. We settled on using the first close match we thought of: the scene in 09x01 where Dean is praying in the hospital’s chapel.

This is not the “Castiel” used in the leak, so we can’t prove that it’s a recycled line stoled from an older episode of the Italian dub. For all we now, Stefano recorded it for 15x18.

“Castiel” from 09x01:

“Castiel” from the leak:

Does this prove anything, considering how bad the audio quality of the leak is? We wouldn’t get the same exact graph even if it was the same snippet of audio. (By the way, when we started this we thought that Dean had rarely said Castiel’s name like that in the dub. We’d forgotten than Italian!Dean never calls him Cas, the asshole.)

The same problem remains: did the leaker find some obscure anime episode where Guerrieri says Io ti amo and used it to dub Castiel, or is this all very real, and that’s why we couldn’t find it anywhere? We don’t know, we just don’t know.

MI DISPIACE, DEAN

Apart from the very wistful "Castiel..." right before Dean gets chucked on the ground (lol get rekt), the other line that came without a doubt from Supernatural is "Mi dispiace, Dean."

I'm sorry, Dean, a sentence that Cas doesn't say that often throughout the show: we checked the English scripts, and we found only three instances where it happens (we only have up until season 13 dubbed in Italian, so if he ever says it in the remaining two seasons, it certainly doesn't have an Italian version).

5x22 - Swan Song: Cas says it, and it's very obviously not the one in the leak. The tone is completely different. 6x22 - Meet the new boss: again, close but no cigar. 7x01 - Reading is fundamental: at first we thought it was the exact same one, and that's why this particular Mi dispiace, Dean is the one you can hear in our fake leak. After checking with Audacity, the one in the episode and the one in the og leak don't correspond. It's just the closest we could find.

So...? What does this mean? We don't know. It's very possible that Italian!Castiel does say Mi dispiace, Dean somewhere in another episode, straying away from the original English script, but without transcriptions of the Italian dub available online, we had no idea where to start.

It's also possible that the leak is real, and that's why we found no doubles for this line.

Also: we've seen people in various posts about the leak saying that the change from "Goodbye, Dean" to "I'm sorry, Dean" is suspicious. It's not uncommon to change lines if it means lipsinking them better, and considering what was happening in the scene, it's not out of place to have Cas apologize to Dean. It wouldn't sound weird to someone who has never watched the original episode.

But, there's another argument to make...Cas has never said goodbye, Dean in older episodes (as far as we could find), and the og leaker was forced to use the next best thing they could find in the Italian dub.

THAT MONITOR...THAT DAMNED MONITOR...

That monitor in the leak looked so sus at first. Is it normal for professional studios to use equipment older than some people on this hell site?

Apparently yes.

We've found a bunch of photos of voice actors in front of the screen they use at work, and they all look like that. Dusty.

These pictures also confirmed that the punctuation in the frame rate changes—sometimes it's all :, sometimes it's all ; (like in the case of the OG leak), sometimes it's mixed. Once again, we can't prove anything one way or another.

This is a pic from 2009 of Davide Chevalier, Sam's voice actor, and the framerate looks different from the one in the leak...then again, it's from 2009. What does it mean? What does it all mean?

FINAL CRIES FOR HELP

If you know more than us, please tell us:

Did we read the Audacity graphs correctly? Do they prove/disprove anything that we didn’t mention?

Does the framerate make any sense? Are we being bamboozled?

Do you have any insight on whether or not season 15 is already been dubbed? We know that season 14 will go on air in bundles of three episodes starting from the 12th of December, so it’s not crazy to think season 15 is already in the works.

Was this worth it? Was any of this worth it? We slept very few hours last night.

tl;dr: in conclusion, we CAN’T affirm with absolute certainty if the Italian leak is fake or not, since we have evidences leading both way. Sadly, the final word will be when the episode will actually air next year.

IRTF - Internet Research Italian Rogue Task Force

#destiel #supernatural #destielgate #italian leak #italian dub #supernatural 15x08 #spn 15x18 #jackles longcon

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 3 years

Photo

(WHILE COLLECTING THE STARS) I CONNECTED THE DOTS

or, how Nesta accepted the bond and decided to give living a try // ao3

Adoption /Self-Discovery/Domestic/Witch!Nesta/Mating Bond/Nessian/found family bc why the fck not/Healing

Heal the scars from off my back

I don't need them anymore

You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars

I've come home

The first thing she notices is how small the girl is.

Her feet are dangling far from the ground and, even though she’s perched on a stroll and Cassian is kneeling on the ground, he’s still towering over her frame. The top of the child’s head barely sticks above the table. Her tucked-in wings make her look even tinier; tiny and miserable, wrapped up with a blanket like an abandoned kitten.

Nesta’s still high on all the magic. There is dark paint smeared all over her skin and her veins are buzzing with the sheer power that she and her coven has just leeched off the very bones of Illyria. She’s only starting to regain some composer and maybe that is why, for a good few minutes, she stays on the corridor and watches as Cassian patiently asks the girl if she wants something to eat or to drink, if she’s warm enough, if maybe she wants to take a nap, hearing nothing in return except for the stubborn, shell-shocked silence.

It’s only when the child pulls her knees up and hides her face in the material of the blanket when Nesta actually makes her presence known.

‘’Hello?’’ she calls quietly from her place on a threshold, not wanting to spook the girl further.

To Cassian’s credit, he does not whip his head towards her – but, after all, he probably knew she’s been here all along.

He always knows she’s near, just like she does.

‘’Hello, Nesta.’’ He says and there is something so heavy, so terribly dark ringing in his voice that she cannot help but shiver. ‘’Sorry, darling, are you fine sitting alone for a while here? I’ll be right back.’’

He raises his hand as if to pat the girl’s knee, but decides not to half-motion; it falls awkwardly to his side when he slowly raises to his full height.

The girl just buries deeper into the blanket.

Something about her – the clear despair radiating from every pore of her body – pulls Nesta towards her like a siren song. She cannot tear her eyes off her, even when Cassian ushers her to the corridor, his hand burning her lower back.

‘’Sorry for no heads-up.’’ He whispers, face half-obscured by the shadows.

It’s almost dusk; the lovely pink light of the dying sun makes everything less real somehow. Or maybe it’s still the magic, the leftovers of it from the sabbath, she’s not sure.

She knows why he’s apologizing. Strangers still threw her off, especially here, in this – space they’ve created. The space where she walks barefoot and with her hair unbound, only for him to see. But how he knows that she doesn’t feel comfortable with unexpected visitors, she has no idea. Sometimes, she wonders how the hell Cassian even knows half of the things he knows about her, because she doesn’t tell him even a quarter of them.

Unexpected visitors that make her uneasy definitely don’t include little lost girls, though. Especially since there’s an unpleasant pounding in Nesta’s head when her mind starts to mull over why the girl would be here in the first place.

‘’Oh, stop being an idiot. Why did you bring her here? Is she- is her mother-‘’

‘’Gone? Yeah.’’

Nesta closes her eyes so tightly that the whole night sky blooms on the underside of her eyelids.

That’s Illyria. – he told her the first time when he came home reeking of blood, his knuckles scraped to the raw meat. – It happens.

And there was not an ounce of acceptance in his voice, only this defeated helplessness. The same helplessness she’s hearing – she’s feeling – now.

‘’She doesn’t have anyone else left? No family?’’

‘’No one. Her father was killed in the war, as far as I know.’’

It happens. Females disappear. Females evaporate. Females appear with their wings clipped, with blood running down their thighs. Females find themselves in the wrong place, the wrong time… especially young, pretty widows, trying to make a living in any way they can, selling whatever they have, including themselves.

Nesta does not have to ask for more details, does not have to dig deeper. Cassian fixes her stare on the chandelier above her head and breaths deeply and, when she looks down, she can see dark bruises blooming on his knuckles, turning them all shades of purple.

Her hands are still cool from the autumn air. He shivers when her thumbs brush across his tender flesh.

‘’Those who did it to her – they won’t do it again to anyone else, will they?’’

‘’No,’’ Cassian growls, his fingers curling around hers. ‘’No, they won’t.’’

She lets her lips curl into a smile, the one that makes Devlon piss his pants whenever he throws a hissy about her coven, or rather about her dragging the clipped females to the woods at night to howl to the moon, as he calls it.

‘’Good.’’ She breathes out.

Her eyes slide on the wooden panels on the wooden panels, back to the kitchen; through the ajar door, all she can see are the black curls, the small talons on top of the girl’s wings peeking from the folds of the blanket.

She’s just so small. She cannot be possibly older than five.

‘’What’s her name?”

“Nicassia.’’ Cassian answers without meeting Nesta’s eyes and something akin to a laugh bubbles in her chest. Nicassia. What a pretty name, swishing like a mountain stream on the rocks, like the wind in the valley.

Ni-cass-ia.

It seems the irony has not escaped Cassian too, because he smirks slightly at her stunned silence.

‘’What are the chances, huh?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ She sounds a bit breathless. Nicassia. ‘’What - where are you planning to take her?’’

She rather feels than hears his hesitance when he says:

‘’Well. There’s an orphanage in Velaris-‘’

Something tightens like a rock inside her core. Of course.

She bites on her tongue. Stop being ridiculous, Velaris is not the source of all evil in the world. She has no doubt that they will take care of her well there – keep her well-fed and clothed, educate her. Give her the care and attention she needs. Maybe she’ll be treated as something … something else, different, but not worse, Feyre would never allow that. Still-

There’s this nagging thought, coming back to her over and over again as she raises her eyes to the small bundle of misfortune on the stroll in the kitchen Nesta has started to think of as hers – what about the things they cannot give her in Velaris?

Nesta’s been living in the Illyria for three years now; she keeps count of every day while pretending she’s absolutely not doing that. And during this time, she has just begun to grasp the magnitude of her ignorance of how these people live and how they think and feel – but she also knows now just enough to realize that there will be no coming back for Nicassia if she’s sent to the Night Court so young.

No one will teach her the songs to keep the rhythm while sewing – no one will teach her how to sew in the first place, how to weave the promises and good fortunes into the fabric. No one will teach her the strange language, full of whistles and hard vowels, impossible to really grasp for somebody who did not grow up hearing it every day. No one will teach her how to put pebbles on the windowsills for protection or to hang bundles of herbs above the fireplace for prosperity and health. No one will make a rowan necklace for her upon her flowering, every hope, and dream that her mother has for her captured on the rope along with the fruits.

No one will teach her the sacred, secret language of Illyrian females, the rites and rituals of their womanhood. If Nicassia grows up in Velaris, she will be forever an outcast in her own home. Not High Fae and not quite Illyrian either.

She will once sit around the fire with other females just like Nesta does with her coven and she too won’t be a part of the story.

And Nesta cannot bear this thought, cannot help but fixate on it.

‘’Nesta.’’

Cassian’s hand is warm and steady on arm, gentle, when he squeezes it.

He’s always gentle with her now, hesitant almost. She’s trying not to miss the times when he was challenging her with every move, every word, driving her insane. It’s better this way, when everything between them is so delicate, fragile like an eggshell. It’s better like that, she tries to convince herself every day, every night laying alone in her bed, her very skin burning from desire.

Sometimes he sleeps beside her to keep her nightmares at bay, but honestly, she almost prefers the nightmares to this unbearable, painful distance between them.

‘’You cannot – you can’t keep her, Sweetheart.’’

She knows what he means by that – she knows he means all the sleepless nights and the emptiness still present in her eyes more often than not. Her still too-skinny hands, her still-not-quite mastered powers. How she would not touch booze for all days of the year except for the anniversary of her father’s death when she gets so absolutely pissed that she sleeps through the next week. The fact that they share fears and dreams and silence, trade quiet feelings, small kisses, absent-minded caresses every day, but they have still not traded the actual words, did not dare to voice anything they feel for each other.

She knows he only wants to protect her.

But maybe a time for coddling has passed. Not when there is a child sitting in their kitchen, small and alone in this world and this time, she has power – power, and strength, and will – to help her.

‘’Maybe I can’t’’. she says softly, slowly. Nicassia’s dark curls spill on her shoulders. Nesta’s hands itch to braid it the way it’s supposed to be braided, just like Emerie explained to her one time- first parted in two, then divided into four strands and woven together (Health. Protection. Love. Devotion.). Nesta’s no Illyrian, but she can learn. She can ask her coven to teach her, to teach her how to sing lullabies in Illyrian, which bedtimes stories she should tell-

Ni-cass-ia.

Nesta thinks about a boy of five, dumped onto the cold mud, taught over and over again in the most horrible way that he has to kill, beg or steal for every little crumb of love in his life, that it will never be given freely to him, that he will never be worth it.

Nesta thinks of a girl of eight, burning with anger too vast to be contained, only learning decades later how to be gentle, how to allow others to be gentle to her. She thinks of Feyre and Elain, of loving too much and not enough simultaneously, of not knowing how to feel anything without this magnitude of feeling devouring her whole.

Nesta turns around to face Cassian, her hands gripping his too-strongly. There’s fire – fire- burning inside her brighter than any magic ever did, hotter than any rage ever did.

She needs us. – she thinks and then: I need this. I want this.

I want this for us.

She doesn’t remember ever wanting anything more. She doesn’t remember the last time she has felt so much.

How can they continue to pretend they’re walking on eggshells when she feels every rise and fall of his chest as if it was her own? When she could’ve as well grabbed on this bond between them or hang herself on it, that’s how strong it is. Forged from some ancient metal. Hardened in flames.

Cassian kneeling on the floor in front of this girl. Nesta coming home.

‘’But maybe we can.’’

His eyes burn golden, staring down at her. She can almost hear his heart stumbling in his chest. She’s trembling, waiting for him to tell her, no, to tell her that’s insane and wrong, to try to reason with her.

But maybe her own heart is painted on her face or maybe the implication of her words are too vast, too great to grasp, or maybe it’s that fact that all her walls go down for a moment when she’s too desperate to keep them up and he sees her for what she truly is for a moment, or maybe it’s all of those things altogether or something else entirely – but Cassian doesn’t say no.

He looks to the kitchen again, his jaw clenching and eyes turning soft when one of Nicassia’s bare feet emerges from the blanket to dangle above the floor.

‘’Are you sure?’’

One step, two steps before she’s so close she could’ve counted the freckles of hazel in his eyes.

Be brave.

‘’I want this with you. I want her. Do you – do you want it too?’’

And she means more than Nicassia, or rather – she means all Nicassia can possibly mean, the whole ocean of dreams she has never dared to venture into, so deep they could both drown in it.

In her grand romance novels, he would’ve pulled her into his arms, give her a sweeping kiss. But in these books, there seems to always be a perfect moment for everything, the exact seconds when stars align and the realization comes like a lightning strike. Nesta does not believe in this type of love any more- doesn’t believe in the perfect moments. It was always Feyre’s brand of romance. Everything in Nesta’s and Cassian’s story has always been complicated and ill-timed. She doesn’t expect to be swept off her feet or wooed anymore.

She just wants to come home. Finally, after all those lonely years.

Cassian doesn’t give her a grand kiss. Instead, he raises their linked hands to his lips and whispers against her skin – quietly, like a secret, like an oath:

‘’I do. Fine then, love.’’

And for a second she can almost see that small boy entering Rhysand’s mother’s cottage in the war camp, craving family and belonging above all reason once again.

Her body turns soft, jelly; her arm raises up, palm resting in the crook of his neck, thumb brushing the line of his jaw. She’s on her tiptoes before she realizes she has even made a move.

For the first time since they met, they meet each other halfway; his forehead resting on hers, his hand pressing hers to his heart.

‘’Fine then, love.’’ She echoes and, all at once, warmth erupts under her skin like a raging forest fire when the bond tugs on her insides and snaps in place, sweet and familiar, the gravity keeping her feet on the ground.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acosf

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Note

could you maybe right something with cal where the reader and cal are maybe doing repairs on a part of the mantis but the door gets stuck and the end up locked in the area for a while? and they’re both obviously in love with one another but just can’t really admit it to each other? if that makes sense lmao. you’re writing is super good btw!

Hi Anon! I’m really sorry that it took a while because I got caught up with the prior requests and my OC x Cal fic ;;;; I hope that I can make it up to you by finally writing this fic request. I hope you’ll still enjoy this story! I’M BACK TO WRITING, I SWEAR. I just enjoyed my break way more than I should ;-;

“Little Secrets That You Know That I Never Told” | Cal Kestis x Reader

Also in AO3

Tags: Subtle hints, secret crush, slightly jealous! Cal, mutual pining, bonding, warm and fuzzy feelings, fluff

Masterlist

Greez takes your hand to nestle a small pouch of credits onto your palm. It’s neither too heavy nor light, though the slightest movement warranted the metal inside to clink against one another.

“Alright, here’s the money for the parts and I’m sure you’ve got a good eye for quality!”

You bobbed your hand with the pouch to feel its weight, and then you thought out loud to Greez.

“Why don’t you come with us, Greez? Nothing bad about a little stroll, it’ll help in stretching your legs,”

“Aww no, my ship should not be out of my sight within a one-inch radius!”

“Uhh… Don’t you mean one-mile radius?”

“No, I did mean a one-inch radius!” pressed the Lateron.

Cal stepped in just when your banter with the captain has concluded. He asks you if you’re ready and you say yes. Even from a distance, you can feel the hostility from the town; in Cal’s case, it sort of reminded him of Bracca, and he sensed your uncertainty disguised as caution.

“We best be careful, Cere found a lot of Imperial signals here,” you recall.

“Then stay close to me,”

It came to Cal naturally, but when he realized what he just said, all of the color drained away from his freckled cheeks. You turned to him and he returned the gesture with a nervous side-glance that evolved into a full look; he was greeted with a small yet warm smile from you and you mouthed the word “Sure” within his earshot. Immediately, the color returned to his cheeks.

The two of you came across a shop that seemed promising, and so you enter the establishment, making your presence known by the ring of a chime that hung by the door—or lack thereof, since it was only a canvas curtain. A young man—perhaps in the same age as you and Cal—and his attention was drawn to the sound. He shifted in his seat, as he was originally facing away from the door, and vaulted over the main counter.

“Well now, what can I get for you?”

“Yeah, uh,” you fished out the compact holodisk and switched it on. “We have a list of parts. Do you happen to have these?”

The young shopkeeper leaned closer to the point that the hologram’s light pooled the entirety of his face, he makes a pensive look: chin between his fingers, squinted eyes, and a long “hmm” as he skims your list.

He clicked his tongue, “Yep, I think we have those,” then there was an awkward pause mainly on your end, so he decided to continue on. “Name’s Seff by the way.”

“Oh cool,” your lip stretched into a straight smile and you shrug your shoulders. “Could you, like… at least show us where they are, Seff?”

While you and Cal weren’t exactly there to make niceties, both of you continued to be polite to Seff. But Cal sensed something else from the boy—it was his seemingly desperate attempt to get your attention. Though he was comforted by the fact that you were uninterested in the subtlest way possible. Seff gestured the pair to the wall of wares; when you took the step ahead towards it, Cal stayed close by your side and shot Seff a sharp glance as he obscured the shopkeeper’s view of you—practically standing in the middle.

BD-1 obliged to flash his copy of the list through lens in the form of a hologram, he did this while perched on Cal’s shoulder. Meanwhile, you browsed the racks upon racks of parts. You felt a little playful and picked up a cylindrical lens shaft and held it to your eye level, the other end points to Cal—who was still busy looking for the other part on the list—when he noticed you in your little game, you finally caught a glimpse of him and his smile through the glass lens.

“Ooh, I think I spotted some treasure!” you chirped.

“Harty-har-har,” Cal cooed, barely even doing the impression of a space pirate. He carefully lowers the lens away from your eyes with his the tips of his fingers, revealing a cheery smile painted on your face.

You teasingly bit your lip to him, as if holding back a laugh, before returning the lens to the shelf. Endeared, Cal himself smiled privately as he looked rummaged through the shelves; he attempts to catch a glimpse of you, angling out his head just to get a wider view than just his periphery and caught your little smile while examining a power cell. You continued to search for the remainder of the list until the last item was ticked off.

“Do you honestly think the damage is that bad?” Cal thought out loud.

“I… I guess so. But we can only really tell once we come and look at her,”

“Ditto. But still, don’t you think these are a bit… excessive?”

That prompted you to check the list again, seeing that you’ve completed the list, you look at the haul and start to agree with Cal. The two of you exchange looks and give each other a resigned shrug of the shoulders. It didn’t take long for both of you to stay in the shop, but the whole time, you did what Cal has told you earlier—to stay close to him.

You approach the counter and paid for the parts, fishing out and counting the credits of silver and gold from the pouch that Greez handed over to you.

“Pleasure doing business with ya,” Seff bade as he swept the credits to him with his forearm.

“Thanks for the help,” you casually said, grabbed the rucksack, and then turned away.

The pair of you exited the shop and you can finally be yourself again with Cal. You slung the rucksack over your shoulder as you made your way to the ship.

“Persistent bugger, wasn’t he?” you quipped jokingly to Cal. It was your own way to relieving yourself from that rather awkward encounter, he concurred with a chuckle.

“Well, did you get all of them?” Greez greeted you from the entry ramp.

You beamed and showed off the rucksack to the Lateron, “Yup! Surprisingly, this one shop had it all. I hope you have the tools for it, though.”

“Oh sure, there’s an entire toolbox waiting for you in the engine room,”

Cal went ahead to the engine room—which was essentially his bedroom—and searched for the particular toolbox that the captain referred to. There were only a few compartments installed in the wall of the room, so it didn’t take long for the redhead to find the said toolbox.

The damage was in the room where the escape pods are, but the affected area was the auxiliary engine—which occupied an entire wall on the opposite side. The size of the auxiliary engine room was strictly enough for two people. You were in first and Cal followed behind after bringing in the tools, you were undisturbed by the hiss of the door and the clattering of the metal.

“Mind if I join in?”

“Come on, the more the merrier!” you squeaked.

You dismantle the grate covering the internals of the power hatch. You take a step back to get a full view of the damage—tendrils of gray smoke wafted out of the narrow crooks between the conduits, tiny orange sparks flew out of the dangling wires. It was an electrical mess.

“This is gonna take a while,” you groaned sardonically.

“Well, we better start then,” Cal gently bumps his fist against your shoulder and approaches the power hatch.

You set down the rucksack of parts and went one by one on which goes where. Being the expert scrapper that Cal was, he worked much quicker and handier, though that didn’t bother you—you’re just glad you weren’t the only one that’s going to tinker the Mantis until it’s completely repaired.

To keep your boredom at bay, you fished out the foldable headphones from your jacket’s inner pocket—you fix the gadget on your head, a single button on the right earpiece prompted a song to play. Even at a low volume, given the silence that hung in the room with you and Cal, he was able to hear and make out the song just by listening in on the rhythm and muffled lyrics.

“Mou houlingting gaan Sugaan Essena…”

He had to pause from unscrewing the auxiliary compressor when he heard you softly sing out those lyrics. Of course, he recognized it—it was The HU! When he turned his head, he found you lost in the song and found your antics quite adorable—bobbing your head to the rhythm, parroting the percussion with your fingernails tapping against the metal, and even strumming an imaginary fiddle in the air with your fingers assumingly flicking in the same pace, intensity, and timing as the actual guitarist.

It took you a second to acknowledge that Cal has been watching your little concert with yourself, you noticed it in your peripheral vision. This time, he didn’t dare to hide the smile—his main reaction of endearment to seeing you getting too lost in the song.

“You listen to The HU?”

You pulled down your headphones, “Yeah, I do! I love that band. Sorry, was my volume too loud?”

“Nah, don’t sweat it. I love that band as much as you do!”

Your eyes lit up in the poorly-lit engine room. You take off the right earpiece and offered, “You wanna listen in too?”

Cal nodded and you scooted yourself closer to him; your headphone was the kind that can have the headband extended or be safely split into two for sharing—you did the latter and fixed it on his ear. The slightest touch of your fingertips pressing against the side of his face was enough to make his heart skip a beat. His eyes became shifty as they struggle to look away and avoid eye contact from you, hoping that you would never notice the blush burning all over his face.

“There we go,”

The song continued to play in both of your ears. It’s already reached the chorus, and your spontaneous reaction to hearing that climatic portion was to belt out your best impression of the main singer’s pitch, accompanied with the fade-out at the last syllable. Cal and yourself did this in your own tones, it didn’t matter if it was off-key or that your pitches didn’t match in some parts, both of you enjoyed the song regardless.

When the iconic chorus—the namesake of the song—came in once more, for a moment, the two of synched and sang your hearts out while facing in front of each other. It felt like the two of you were doing your own musical gig inside the engine room when you’re supposed to be working on the repairs.

However, you went the extra mile—you mimicked the guitar riff that followed after the chorus and worked on the auxiliary engine panel at the same time. When you caught Cal looking at you again, you snapped out of your performer alter ego and awkwardly laughed.

“Sorry, I just… I tend to do this when I work. It’s a bad habit,”

“No, it’s perfectly fine. You seem to be having fun anyway, so I wouldn’t wanna wish to ruin that,”

You cleared your throat and bit your lip. The awkwardness gradually dissolved, the two of you exchanged shy smiles and continued to work and listen to the music spilling out of your headphones’ earpieces. You went on with your tinkering and repairing until the ship went dark: all the lights went off in a cascading succession, the engine hum had gone totally silent, and the door that the two of you came through was stuck and sealed shut.

“What happened?” exclaimed Cal.

“I don’t know! I can’t see anything!”

“BD, give us some light, would you?”

“Beee-woo!”

A switch clicked in BD-1 and his little lens was able to light up your spot in the room. The tiny droid shines his light on the entire panel in search of the potential cause of the ship’s blackout.

“It can’t be me—I was working on the secondary hyperspace compressor.”

“Can’t be me, either. I’m working on the wiring,” Cal’s eyes scaled up to the top of the engine panel. He points at something with his soldering gun. “There’s the auxiliary’s main power cell. That must have went out while we were working.”

“Then it must be from the outside, could be Greez,” you assumed.

“Yeah, but we can’t waste our breaths slamming the door calling for help like trapped scrap rats,”

You looked around the room, squinting your eyes to see better with the little light you’re left with through the cracks and gaps of the ship. You tap Cal’s shoulder, with BD-1 subsequently aiming the spotlight in your general direction.

“Look, there’s a vent. Maybe BD-1 can fit through and tell Greez to switch on the main power grid,” you suggested.

The droid chirped in agreement. He hopped off and skittered towards the said air vent. Cal crept to him, unfastened the screws and removed the grate for BD-1 to crawl into. Without a word, the droid entered the ventilation shaft in the hopes of finding a way out into the main interior of the Mantis.

“Well, I guess we’re stuck here. No point in fixing the ship without any light,” you sighed.

“Yeah, guess we’ll just have to wait for BD,”

Suddenly, a spark livened up your brain with an epiphany.

“Does Greez understand droidspeak?”

There was a silence, you’re hoping for a swift reply from Cal, but it seems to he too had the same realization. He didn’t answer you right away, you assumed that he had returned to the engine panel and probably didn’t catch what you said. You pawed the air, searching for Cal until you felt something solid touch your back and then fall with you.

At first, you didn’t even notice that you didn’t land on the hard, metal floor. In fact, you felt rough fabric and cracked leather on yourself. It took you a bit of a while to realize that you landed on someone else.

“Arrggh, took a wrong step there,” Cal groaned. In the darkness, you heard his voice was too close.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry!” you scramble away to his side and off of him.

You crawl to the wall and press your back against that as you watch the shadow of him toss and turn until he sat up. Your heart raced and your cheeks flared. You were grateful for the blackout obscuring your face, because not a single good excuse exists for you to save yourself if Cal did see the look on your face.

Though, you could’ve sworn you felt his heartbeat pace so quickly underneath his leather armor.

“No, no! I’m fine, [Y/N], really,” he insisted as both of you regain your bearings in the dark.

Either of you have to squint their eyes in order to see better. Only silhouettes appeared in your vision, you can make out the shapes but the facial expressions were difficult to read.

“Well, guess we’re stuck here,” Cal pointed out.

“And we even sent out BD-1 to tell Greez about this—and I know for a fact that he’s not fluent in droidspeak,”

“Crap, you’re right,”

Both of you released a concurrent sigh. Cal drew his legs closer to his chest, crossed them together and secured them around his arms. The stale air hummed through the vents—including the open one where BD-1 went through—but both of you cannot deny that the air’s gotten a bit thinner.

“I hope they’ll get his message,” you mumbled.

“I’m sure Cere will fill Greez in if he doesn’t get BD-1,”

Cal took a slow, deep breath and nestled himself next to you. The silence was a bore and you decided to engage in small talk while waiting for BD-1 to come through.

“So, when did you first find out about The HU?”

“Well, I was in a cantina having a drink with an old friend, Prauf, after working hours—it was the end of the work week, so we decided to unwind—and then this cantina had no live performers that time, which was a usual thing on that particular day. So instead, they had their speakers on and put on a virtual performance—they played that band’s top record and it just stuck to me.”

“Which is Sugan Essena?”

“Exactly. How did you come to know the band?”

“Nothing memorable, really. Overheard it being played from a frequency channel in a store owner’s radio. Coincidentally, a few of my friends knew it and I just had to ask.”

The two of you got lost in each other’s own stories over something mutual, which felt genuinely nice. The air gradually became stale by the minute, the longer the time seemed to have dragged on, the more anxious you became; Cal sensed this and he wanted to comfort you so bad, but he was afraid that it might turn out awkward or worse.

The least he could do—at least, that’s what he thought in his mind—is to stay close and keep you company.

You felt him scramble in the dark, two soft but heavy thumps sounded on the floor—he had just stretched out his legs and let out a leisurely exhale. You felt his sleeve brush against your bare arm.

“So, that Seff guy seemed to like you a lot,” Cal initiated, though he seemed to be disgruntled by his own topic.

You scoffed in the guise of an indifferent laugh, “Guy wasn’t really up in my alley, honestly. I was just trying to be polite as best as I can.”

“Oh? He wasn’t your type?”

You shake your head, quite fervently and added, “Nah. I have someone else in mind.”

You looked to him when you said the latter and managed a smile. A ray of light persisting through a gap in the ceiling shone over his left eye, making his jade iris twinkle and you watched it shift ever so slightly. His eyes were one of your favorite features of him—placing first place before his delightful freckles and his fiery, scarlet hair in third—but it was your own little secret.

To a certain degree, Cal was relieved, but then the next thing he thought about was whether or not to admit his feelings to you. He’s troubled himself with the thought for perhaps a couple of months now—according to your own counting—that you curiously wonder if he has ever felt it.

Surely he has, being quite the empath that he is. You’ve come to the presumption that both of you are just too shy to admit it to each other.

The predicament has made you forget about your headphones, which you took off and unintentionally dropped to the floor when the blackout happened; the music was still playing but it had already switched to a new song. Cal used the Force to bring it to his hands.

“Air’s getting a little thin, don’t you think?” you blurted softly.

Cal didn’t reply; he saw that your eyes are droopy, your breathing is slow and labored, and your face relaxed into a calm expression. He can barely suck in enough air to fill both lungs. The deprivation was getting to him as well.

Your entire body felt heavy too. Your eyes gaze down on Cal’s open hand facing up. You clench your own fist while fighting your hand from inching closer—you came to a stalemate with yourself and flimsily plopped your hand on the floor, just mere centimeters away from Cal’s. You parroted his posture—head leaning against the wall, staring at the ceiling, conserving your air with slow, calm breaths.

Bit by bit, you felt warm flesh nudge against the curve of your hand between the thumb and the forefinger—it was Cal’s knuckle. Your fingers flinched, and slowly he intertwines his with yours; it began with the first inches until it evolved into a clasp. You comforted each other with the warmth radiating from your hands that is now spreading across your bodies. It was a little silly, naïve idea at first, but you could’ve sworn you felt his heartbeat follow after yours.

A relieved sigh escapes your nostrils as you manage a smile—not bothering to hide it this time, you thought: if he sees it, so be it. Cal indeed felt your smile and did so himself. He dared to squeeze your hand softly but securely while the two of you wait out the power to return. Just when everything seemed to be taking too long and hopeless… the lights burst back into life, all the air from the surface blew in vigorously into the auxiliary engine room, and the entire power panel bellowed!

“Oh good, the power’s back on,” Cal mumbled, slightly groggy from the oxygen deprivation.

“Good, I knew BD would come through—and Greez too,”

You and Cal, together, fixated your eyes on your intercrossed hands. He shot you a fond, tender gaze that’s usually paired with his boyishly charming smile—the kind of smile that’s so hard to read, whether he was teasing with you or mischievously planning to mess around. You’re convinced that it was the former.

“Shall we get to work?”

“Let’s take a breather for a few minutes…” you shuffled in your seat, not planning to let go of his hand any time soon. “This actually feels nice.”

Cal slowly lowered his head so his cheek rests atop your head. You felt his thumb run across the skin of the back of your hand while the two of you rest and recover until, eventually, both of you drifted to a nap.

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retrievablememories · 4 years

Text

friends | haechan

title: friends pairing: haechan x black!reader genre: fluff, a lil angst request: “Do you think you could write about (black) reader dating haechan and meeting some of the other members for the first time. Something fluffy, maybe a little angsty bc worries they won’t like her” word count: 1.6k warning: self-consciousness issues, mentions of racism a/n: i was going thru it during the process of writing this fic so i hope it turned out decent. please don’t be afraid to share feedback or critique. life has been hectic sjdkjdajk but i’m trying to get it together

“Y/N, you look fine, I’m serious.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, fixing your hair and outfit for the millionth time that day. The bow in your curly hair seems lopsided, and you feel like nothing fits quite right.

“I’m 1,000% sure,” Haechan sighs, flopping back on your bed. He watches as you keep fidgeting around, wondering if he’s past the point of being able to convince you.

“Sorry, Channie. You know I’m really looking forward to meeting the guys, I’m just a little...nervous.”

“What are you nervous about? You know you can tell me anything,” he says, hugging one of your pillows.

“Just not sure if they’ll...like me,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, but there are few things you can slip past Haechan. He sits back up after hearing your admission, and you can see the concerned and slightly sad look he gives you in the mirror.

“Why wouldn’t they like you? You’re...you. If they don’t like you, I’ll just beat them up!”

You snort with laughter. “Thanks for that, but you probably shouldn’t fight your group members. It’s just, I don’t know, I’m...different, in case you haven’t noticed. Black people aren’t exactly the beauty standard around here.” You roll your eyes. “Not that I should really care, but still...it’s hard not to know what people will think of you just because of what you look like.”

Haechan slides off the bed to come up behind you, hugging you tight around the waist.

“I wouldn’t put you harm’s way like that, especially if I thought they’d have a problem with you because you’re a different race,” he says softly.

“I know, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder....people are hard to predict, Haechan.”

“You’re right about that…” He plays with the end of one of your curls absentmindedly. “I genuinely think they will like you though, regardless of who you are or what you look like...you’re one of the best people I know and the best girlfriend ever. They would be stupid not to like you.” Even though you don’t want to, you laugh at that. “We should never let differences stop us from loving each other, or making new friends, or...anything!”

You take in his words for a moment before nodding and patting his hands. You’re not sure if you can get to 0% nervousness just yet, but his words have already done a lot to calm you. “You know, you can be quite wise when you wanna be.”

“Duh—that’s because I’m a genius.” Haechan boasts before kissing your cheek and going back to flop on your bed again.

The restaurant you go to is a little hole-in-the-wall place where the owners know all the boys and let them eat in peace without all the fanfare that would come from any other establishment. Haechan has mentioned before that he enjoys having at least one place where people aren’t passing out over his good looks, and you can only roll your eyes at that.

Your stomach flips upside down as you both walk up to the building. The guys are already there; you agreed to meet up with them. Even though you’re unsure about everyone’s reactions, Haechan has refused to let go of your hand the whole time, even on the ride over to the restaurant.

“Your hands are sweating so much, you’re gonna drown me,” he laughs.

“Ugh, shut up,” you whine, but you laugh too. He opens the door for you, and you both go inside.

The place is small but quaint, as most mom-and-pop stores are. One of the waiters immediately waves to the two of you as he heads back to the kitchen, obviously well-acquainted with Haechan.

The other guys are seated in one of the far corners of the restaurant near the window; they call out greetings and wave you over once they spot you.

Haechan raises your joined hands together over your head, and you’re a bit confused for a moment before you realize he’s trying to get you to do a twirl. You laugh, embarrassed, but you do it anyway.

“Hyungs, are you excited to finally meet my girlfriend, A.K.A the most beautiful, extravagant girl in the world?” Haechan speaks excitedly as you both take your seats at the table.

“Of course we are, you talk about her nonstop!” Yuta says, teasing the younger boy.

“You didn’t tell us she was this pretty,” Jaehyun takes your hand in his and Haechan sighs exaggeratedly, pushing his hands into the mix to separate you two.

“Yeah, Hyung, I wonder why. Some of us here would actually like to keep our partners!” The other men laugh at that, while Jaehyun argues his innocence.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mark says, grinning cutely. “I’m Mark.”

“I think she already knows who you are,” Haechan says, rolling his eyes like Mark just said the silliest thing ever.

“Dude, it’s called being nice! Try it sometime.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you respond. You’re still feeling a little nervous, but those threads of anxiety are quickly unraveling in the presence of their easygoing, laidback demeanor.

“It’s definitely nice to meet the person who’s been making Haechan so happy lately,” Taeil interjects. “But don’t be afraid to let us know if he ever breaks your heart—I’ll handle it personally!”

“Hyung, please.” Haechan whines.

The waiter from earlier soon comes up to the table to ask about what kind of drinks you’ll be having. He looks like he could be around Jaehyun’s age. “And who is this lovely girl? I’ve never seen you around here before.”

You tell him your name, and the waiter introduces himself as Hyungjoon—though you could already guess that from the nametag on his shirt. “Anyone that Haechan likes is a friend of mine. You should come by more often! It’s always fun to meet new customers around here.” He soon zips off to go get your drinks after taking your orders, and you turn to the other boys in the group.

“Sooo, what were you guys doing before you got here?” The boys immediately launch into an excited discussion about one of the new songs they’re recording, which they’re probably not supposed to be talking about anyway; but who really cares what SM says? Maybe it’s silly, but you feel warm and fuzzy inside that you can be privy to these kinds of talks, like you’re already a trusted friend.

You and Haechan end up sharing most of your food, whether it’s you sneaking bites off his plate or him feeding you straight from his chopsticks. This is usually par for the course when you’re eating alone together, but you feel a little embarrassed that he seems extra determined to play it up in front of the other guys.

You give him a boy, are you serious look by the time dessert comes around, with him playing airplane with the spoon of ice cream sundae he tries to feed you.

“Why do you insist on feeding me like a baby?” you ask jokingly, though you definitely don’t turn the scoop down, either.

“Because you’re my baby, duh.” Yuta and Jaehyun groan at the sappiness that Haechan is pouring on thick, while Taeil and Mark laugh at your reaction. You burst out laughing, trying to cover your mouth to avoid spraying Haechan with the ice cream, but you’re a few seconds too late. He shouts and whines like a kicked puppy until you wipe the remnants off his face with your napkin.

“You two really are like a married couple,” Taeil comments, giving you both a sly look.

“Don’t say that out loud, Yuta’s gonna start the wedding plans tonight,” Jaehyun says, and Yuta pretends to look offended.

“Tonight? We should at least wait until he buys a ring, right Haechan?” He reaches over the table to pinch the younger man’s cheek and he only swats him away.

“You guys are too much!”

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” Haechan asks you, swinging your hand in his. The night air is cool, but not uncomfortably so. It’s the perfect kind of atmosphere for a night walk in the park, which you’re currently doing.

The moon is nothing but a crescent in the sky, but the stars twinkle with their own brightness, obscured every once in a while by a drifting cloud or two. The sounds of nightlife surround you, crickets chirping and night birds singing.

“Yes, I’m glad I came.” You smile, squeezing his hand and leaning into him. “It was fun. Everyone was really nice, and I’m happy it went well…”

“I told you they would like you,” Haechan says, bringing your joined hands up together to kiss the back of yours. “You’re a star; everyone likes you. I often feel sorry and even a bit helpless because I know it’s not always easy for you living here...but no matter what, you’ll always have me by your side.” Haechan pauses for a moment before laughing nervously. “I didn’t embarrass you too much, did I?”

“What—no. I did think it was kinda cute,” you snicker.

“I just like you a lot, and I want other people to know it...and if they don’t like it, then they don’t matter.”

“Oh, stop—this is like a scene out of drama! You’re gonna make me cry.” You pretend to wipe away a tear, though you do hug his arm closer to your body, feeling more appreciated and grateful than you can possibly express. “...You’re a good person, Haechan.”

Haechan kisses the side of your head where your bow rests in your hair. “I’m glad you think so.”

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sunsetinmyvein · 3 years

Text

The Radio Station - Chapter Three - Stay Another Hour or Two

A/N - Sorry this one’s a smidge late, guys. Been laid up a bit these last 48 hours.

19th of September, 2013

Unbeknownst to her, Matty had been just as excited about a second interview as she was. After the praise she had given both him and his music the first time, he had found himself a bit smitten. Waiting for the next time he was in London to hope that the station reached out again had been mildly nerve-wracking, but his patience had been worth it. It gave him the chance that he wanted. He had given her his number in the hopes that maybe she'd make a move. If she came to him first, that saved him a lot of trouble and allowed him to side-step any awkward tension if it turned out she wasn't into him. She hadn’t managed to get out to Reading around her other work obligations, but she’d let him know that she tried. He had hoped this would be the start of more frequent communication. But, they hadn't really had much of a chance to act on anything in that regard. Because as soon as the full-length album was out, the station wanted Matty back on the show.

“It feels like it was only yesterday that I was here.” Matty laughed from the seat across from her as she fiddled with a few things on her side of the desk.

“It’s only been a month, I think?” She mumbled, clearly focused on something.

“About that, if I recall.” He nodded.

“No George this time?” She asked absentmindedly.

“I'd rather have you all to myself.” She hummed a noise in response that made it hard for him to work out if his flirting had landed or not. But he did think that maybe she was trying to avoid looking directly at him. And... maybe blushing? “Been up to much in the last month?” He segued.

“Not particularly.” She said with a shrug. “You? Touring?” She asked back, but he skipped right over that.

“Haven't been painting the town red? Going on dates? Suddenly acquired a boyfriend?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, suddenly busying himself with his phone.

She let out an abrupt laugh as she finally looked over at him, “No, Matty.” He just nodded thoughtfully. “Come on, you dork. Let's do this.” She said, looking fairly amused by his antics as she pulled her headset back on.

“And we're back, with a voice a few of you might find familiar as he was on the show only a month ago.” She gestured to him to do a little introduction.

“Hi, it's Matthew Healy from The 1975.” He spoke in a calculated voice into his mic.

“Back again so soon?”

“That's what I get for complaining it was too long last time.” He said with a light laugh.

“But you've done a lot in a month! Your full length, self-titled album is out now, you played Reading and Leeds, and you're even playing at the O2 Sheperd's Bush Empire tomorrow.” She listed off.

“Yeah! We never stop, really.” He chuckled as he shook his head a bit. “The acceleration over the last six months has been crazy fast. But we’ve been a band for such a long time so it feels justified.”

“Your enthusiasm and motivation is truly next level.”

“Gotta keep the hype going, you know?”

“Has it left you guys feeling a bit worn out?” She questioned. “That sort of non-stop lifestyle would've burnt many people out by now.”

“Ah, no way! We’ve had five years of doing nothing. This is fun.” He grinned broadly. “I’ve got a break of about a week and a half over Christmas, but I’ve gotta move into a new flat. I’ve got loads of stuff to move. I had to buy luggage while on tour. I have so much fan stuff now – letters, drawings, puzzles of my face.” She couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that and how surreal it must be.

“So, the album is out now. Have you been happy with how it was received?” She asked.

“Like everything that we do, it was totally down the middle. Half the critics absolutely loved it, half of them hated it. I think Vice called it the worst album of the year.” He said with a loud laugh. “It’s so funny how subjective music can be. But I don’t really care, you know. Our fans have embraced it massively.” He smiled.

“Well, it went to number one!” She reminded him.

“Yeah! That was pretty awesome. The fact that it went to number one is amazing.” He huffed with a look of giddy disbelief as he pulled a hand through his hair. “We didn’t really need any kind of statistical validation to be proud of that record, we were as proud of it as we could be as soon as we finished it. But it was nice to know that people still like good music.”

“I can imagine that would've been quite satisfying for you guys. It definitely deserved to reach number one.” She said with a nod.

“You've listened to it?” He asked in curiosity.

“Yeah, I’ve listened to it a bit.” She confirmed with a nod. “Actually, 'a bit' is probably an understatement.” She corrected.

“Oh really?” He blurted out eagerly before clearing his throat and trying to dial it back. “That’s cool.”

“Are you able to tell us a bit about the thought process behind the album? What ties it all together?” She questioned. He noticed she didn't have a notepad this time like she had previously.

“I don’t think there’s a concrete narrative that runs from the beginning to the end. It's not that sort of album. We knew we wanted to make a long album. Sixteen tracks, you know. But I suppose it’s all about me and my relationships, like the EPs…” He hummed for a moment as he tried to pull his thoughts together. “The album ended up being like a scrapbook of conversations and situations that kind of, when it was all put together, made this story of our youth? I think that’s what the album is.”

“Stylistically it’s all quite different, some of the songs sound like they could be from entirely different artists, let alone on the same album.” She noted.

“There’s a bit of a stylistic polarity, it’s quite genre-bending, the sounds.” He nodded in agreement. “But then again, we kind of wanted to make one of those records like the best pop records from the 80s. Like Michael Jackson on Bad. That was kind of the vibe we wanted to do. We didn’t pull any punches. We didn’t think we need to be a bit ‘cool’. We thought we’d just do exactly what we want.” He explained simply.

“That attitude seems to have resonated well with your fans.” She continued.

“Well, we wanted people to feel about our record the same way we felt about records that were really important to us. I want people to love the album, I want people to be able to not listen to the album because it reminds them of someone, I want it to bleed into humanity.” His passion for his music was unmistakable. She felt it was a shame that her interviews weren't filmed, so much of his personality and sheer enthusiasm came through in his expressions.

“It's interesting that you've been able to achieve that sort of appeal with something you've described as so personal and so heavily based around your own experiences.”

“The more specific you are, and the more honest you are about you, the more grandeur the idea becomes. Because if you give someone a really, really specific idea instead of something vague, they can read into it so much more.” He said thoughtfully. “It’s immediately captivating. Rather than a vague idealism that you may or may not have experienced. Whereas if you hear a really specific thing, hopefully across the album there will be something that someone could really,” He clicked his fingers with a look of sincerity, “immediately feel you��ve experienced.”

“You would've definitely gained some new fans now that the album is properly out. I believe I've even heard of a few big musicians singing your praises.” There was always seemingly some artist or other causing a stir on Twitter by tagging The 1975 in their tweets. “Do you guys have any biases towards someone who's famous being a fan? Or do you see all fans as equal?”

“Oh, well, you know, all fans are equal. I mean it’s nice to be validated by those you respect and interesting to be validated by those that you don’t. But that is a nice thing about it – when your heroes become your peers. But…” Matty made a face like he was trying to pick his words carefully, “I don’t really care about the whole celebrity thing very much, it doesn’t really mean anything. My parents are famous. I grew up around it. I kind of understand what it means – or more importantly, what it doesn’t.”

“Do you find that sort of celebrity complex of what that attention means gets to you?” She asked.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “It's weird reading so much about yourself. Am I actually this celebrity person I see on my phone or am I me? I don’t really know.”

“Leading on from that then, how are you finding being a role model to so many people now that your celebrity status has grown so much?”

He instantly grimaced. “I’m really uncomfortable with it. Part of me thinks, it’s better they look up to me than a lot of people I know. But I shouldn’t have that responsibility as a 24 year old guy… y’know?” He huffed. “It’s hard for me, because I don’t really hold dear a lot of the values that fame presents. But the world of fame, the world of celebrity, has picked me up from a life of obscurity and put me into this whirlwind of money and bollocks and girls… I think we kind of invest in our own relationships a lot.” He stopped himself for a minute as he took a drink from the mug of tea she'd given him. “I don’t know what to say to a lot of these kids. The whole thing of becoming a figure of sexual desire, that’s understandable. That comes with the territory, that comes with young girls, that comes with them growing up. But the idea of me becoming a figure of intellectual desire? Something people look up to as almost an orator or a speaker or somebody with opinions? That makes me feel uncomfortable.” He shook his head as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Because I’m not this honest person that’s been depicted in the media. I’m very, very defiant about being honest lyrically, but that doesn’t come from a place of genuine lack of care – I’m actually really neurotic and insecure. The only reason those lyrics are like that is because I wrote that album before anyone knew who we were. I didn’t have to think 'am I being too honest?' ”

She paused for a moment as his words sank in. It hadn't been her intention to get him onto such a heavy topic, but he certainly seemed to have no trouble dissecting his thoughts on the matter and she was certain her listeners would be enjoying the insight. “Let's shift onto a lighter topic.” She started, knocking him back to reality. “I've probably heard interviewers ask you about the origin of the band name... three dozen times by now since I asked in our first interview?” Matty chuckled at that, but urged her to continue. “Is it validating to know people are so interested?”

“Good question… I don’t know. I think because… I get a bit tired of it. “ He admitted truthfully. “I really, really appreciate it when someone looks at an interview from my perspective and how it might be for me, because I’m the one who does the majority of them. I don’t know why people are so interested in the name. But then I think, hold on a second, if I didn’t know where a bands name came from would I be genuinely interested? And maybe I would… I think people like to understand music. They like music to be something that’s really consumable and palatable and understandable. Whereas we’re the total antithesis of that, aren’t we?”

“I'm almost tired of hearing it come up in interviews.”

He laughed loudly, “Yeah, so am I.” He nodded. “So. Am. I.”

“That seems like a good point to cut away to a few tracks.” She said with a sigh as she pushed herself back into her chair. “Do you have any requests off the album, Matty?” She asked.

He thought about this for a moment, “What's your favourite off the album?” He asked with a smirk.

“At the moment? I've been listening to Girls a lot.” She answered as she began queuing it up.

“Then let's hear that.” He nodded decisively.

“You heard it, folks. This is Girls off The 1975's self-titled album.” She said into her microphone as she watched Matty take his headset off and sink back into his chair. “Sorry for getting you onto such an intense tangent there.”

“It's all right, I'd rather have an intellectual conversation than have to repeatedly explain the band name.” He said with a short laugh. “That's why you do good interviews - you ask proper questions.” He added as he finished the tea.

They chatted a bit about what they'd been listening to lately, what bands they thought were going to headline next year's festivals, before eventually the interview picked up again. “We're here with Matty of The 1975, and just before we heard their song Girls. Now, Matty,” She leaned forward, and for a moment the look in her eyes made him feel like he was in for another hectic question. “I heard a lot of controversy about the video clip for that song being in colour.”

He couldn't stop himself from chuckling. “Yeah... But it wasn't our first video in colour!” He said defensively. “When we put out the album version for Sex, that came from the idea that everything got so big so quickly, but we still wanted the album version out there before the album came out, you know, to impose our identity and say this is who we are. With that we did a new video for it and it was in colour, it was the first video in colour and everyone went mental. We were made aware that a lot of kids were saying stuff that we were ‘conforming to a major label’ you know, the whole cliché’d band getting too big.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And we got obsessed by that idea because it’s… so not true. It’s so ridiculous. And we wanted to make a video about that – about conforming to a major label. Because music videos are silly, we wanted to make a tongue in cheek video. We just wanted to make a pop video that was really aware it was a pop video. We knew it was obviously gonna split people down the middle but… whatever…” He finished with a shrug. “It was funny.”

“I agree, I thought it was pretty funny.” She replied with a smile. “What do you hope people are getting out of the album now that it's out there for them to listen to?”

“I can only hope that they react in the same way that I do. Because I can only make music for me. Therefore I can only expect people who are likeminded to embrace it in the same way that I do. When we finished Robbers, I cried my heart out. When we finished Settle Down, we went on a night out on the Friday, and it was like five in the morning and I made the engineer steal the keys to the studio and we went back and broke in to listen to the record all the way through. If a song doesn’t make me laugh through joy, or it doesn’t make me dance, or it doesn’t make me cry, or it doesn’t provoke me to be really introspective, then we just fuck it off. Just leave it.” He answered, before quickly trying to summarise himself. “I want our music to make people think about their own life more than our music.”

“That makes sense. The best music always reminds you of specific moments and people in your life.”

“Exactly.” He grinned.

“I heard rumblings that you're already working on the next album?” She asked, watching as he nodded a bit. “I suppose I shouldn't have expected any less given how little time off you allow yourself.”

He let out a laugh, “Yeah, you'd be right. Although, we've had this one ready to go for nearly a year and had some material leftover from it that didn't quite fit in, as well. The new album sounds mental already… it’s very... weird…” He frowned down at the desk as he played the tracks through in his head. “I can’t really tell you what it sounds like. I think it’ll probably be closer to the EPs. We’re so confused now about our lives, that I think this record will be a genuine representation of our confusion in different cultures and different cities and different mindsets.” He explained. “But who cares? We’re only making it because we wanna make it.”

“And from what you've said, song-writing is a big part of your expression.” She prompted.

“One hundred percent. I can’t have a record that is so self-deprecating and self-aware and then be interviewed and not have that translate in the way that I am. Because this band is a genuine extension of my identity, all of the music is me trying to figure myself out lyrically.”

“Has that process taught you much?” She questioned.

“Yeah. It's helped me get my head straight about a lot of stuff. But mainly I’ve really learned that I have a creative responsibility. I used to think I didn’t have any responsibilities when it came to my art, because it was mine. But I’ve realised that so many people genuinely invest in it. I do have a responsibility for it at least to be as good as whatever preceded it… hopefully better.”

“All right, we're nearly out of time.” She sighed, straightening up in her chair. He threw a disappointed look her way, forcing a smile out of her. “But before we call it, last time we spoke was right before Reading and Leeds. How was it?” She asked.

He let out a bewildered sound before speaking, “Reading and Leeds was like a culmination of everything that has happened. It was amazing.” He started with a faraway look in his eyes. “We went to that festival – it was the first festival we ever went to as a band. Just to watch. You don’t expect more people to come and see you over the course of one festival period, because it seems too fast. But we were definitely pulling much bigger crowds by the end of the Summer, it was mental.” He said as he shook his head in disbelief.

“I told you that you guys would be really hard to get a hold of in the future.” She reminded him. “We've had Matthew Healy of The 1975 on the show with us discussing their latest self-titled album. It's out now in stores. Go do yourselves a favour and give it a listen. Thanks, as always, for chatting, Matty.” She said with a sharp nod.

“Always a pleasure.” He said with a grin.

By now, she was expecting him to hang around as she talked through her outro and switched back to the music. He stood up and walked around from his side of the desk, leaning against the wall as she faced him.

“So, where are you off to now?” She asked as she pulled her headset off and placed it on the desk. “Gonna go fill up your free time with overworking yourself more?” She added with a playful smile.

He scoffed, “We don’t get free time. When we do have free time, it’s in London, where we don’t live, when we’re in a hotel, and you have one day off which you do your washing in.” He answered as he rolled his eyes. “But, I assume that you do live near London?”

“Around these parts, yes.” She said vaguely. “Why?”

“We're stuck up here for a couple of days, if you wanted to get a drink or anything.” He suggested with a casual shrug.

“I appreciate the offer, but stand by what I said before.” She started. “It's easier to keep work separate. I've seen it get messy for colleagues.” She elaborated.

He nodded in understanding. “All right, well...” He let out the breath he was holding. “You have my number.” She watched him walk out of the studio as she tried to get her heart rate back under control.

* * *

She probably should've known better than to go out that night knowing that Matty was around London. But her friends had invited her out for a drink, and it was Thursday, it was close enough to the end of the week. And most importantly she felt like she needed a drink after being in such close confinement with that man. Thankfully, her professionalism was easy enough to maintain at work (despite his best attempts at flirting). However, when she was faced with the dilemma of George and Matty walking into the bar they'd been in for the last couple of hours, after she'd already had a few drinks, the lines between work and social life were suddenly a lot less obvious. She shrank back down into her seat slightly, hoping that he wouldn't notice she was here and she wouldn't have to deal with the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. But it was too late. George noticed her and instantly pointed her out to his mate. Fuck sake, George. Matty flashed her a friendly wave, which she returned anxiously. At least he didn't walk over. He and George walked across to the other side of the bar and started playing pool.

She mentally checked out of her friend's conversation after that - finding it too hard to not focus on Matty when he was in the room. The magnetism he radiated was annoyingly undeniable. She nodded occasionally and made approving noises here and there when there was a pause in the conversation for a response. But eventually she was dragged back to reality and actually had to give a response when she heard one of her friends calling her name. She looked over to them with her eyebrows raised, asking them to repeat the question.

“I said,” They laughed before repeating themselves, “we’re going to grab some food down the road. Are you coming?”

“Uh…” She mumbled, suddenly meeting Matty's gaze across the room. “No. I’m not hungry.” She shook her head. “Might hang around here for a bit.”

“Suit yourself.”

Her friends grabbed their things, promptly leaving the bar and thus leaving her to her own devices. She briefly considered that staying here might be a bad idea, but that thought was quickly squashed by the smile Matty threw her way. “Fancy seeing you here.” He grinned as she walked over to where he and George were standing.

“Should've known you'd find me somehow or another.” She said in amusement as she watched George sink one of the smalls.

“Hey, don't blame me.” He held up his hands in defence. “This bar was his idea. Right, George?” He asked as he turned back to the table.

“He's right.” The drummer nodded.

“We just wanted to get out of the hotel for a bit.” He explained with a look of innocence. “You wanna get in on the next game?” He added, suddenly looking eager.

“Sure.” She shrugged as she pulled a barstool over and took a seat.

As she watched them play out their game, she noticed that George was a much better player than Matty was. “You don't seem to be very good at this.” She noted as Matty missed another shot.

“It's still our first game. I need to warm up.” He replied as he rolled his shoulders.

She hummed thoughtfully, “I dunno, George is kicking your arse.”

“George, tell her that I'm not that bad at pool.” He said with a frown.

He shook his head, “I’m not getting involved. This is between you two.”

“I'll show you.” He grumbled under his breath as he took a sip from his beer. “Next game. You and me.” He said with a nod.

“You're on.”

The game took a little longer to finish up than what she had initially expected as Matty tried to hone his skills. She ended up excusing herself to get another drink right before George sunk the last shot.

“Good game, Matt.” He said as he cracked his back. “I'm gonna head back to the hotel. You coming?” He asked as he nudged the singer in the ribs.

Matty eyed the girl standing at the bar. “Nah, I'm gonna stay for a bit.” He answered.

“All right. Don't kick on too late.” He said as he clapped a hand down on his friend's shoulder. “Remember, we've got a show tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. I won't.” He said as he brushed off George's hand. Matty racked up the balls and set up the table again as she came over with her drink.

“Where's George?” She asked, quickly looking around.

“Went back to the hotel.” He answered abruptly.

“Oh.” Was all she could muster in response. No longer having the buffer of someone else suddenly made this situation feel quite... different.

“I've got a wager for you to prove I'm not as bad at this as you think.” He said as he held out the pool cue to her. She raised an eyebrow in question. “If you can beat me in a game, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“And if I don’t beat you?” She questioned with a sceptical look.

“Then you’ll have to buy your own drink to have with me.” He shot back, holding her gaze. He offered out his hand and waited for her to shake on the bet. After a moment of weighing up her options, she shook his hand firmly. “You break.”

For a man who wanted to make a bet on his skills, they hadn't really seemed to have improved any since the last game. After about ten minutes of playing, he had only sunk one ball in comparison to her four. It seemed that he was practically handing out free shots.

“I feel like you’re losing on purpose.” She accused eventually.

“What gives you that impression?” He asked as he shot the cue ball directly in between every possible ball he could’ve hit.

“What were you even aiming for just then?” She huffed with a laugh.

“I was trying to do a bounce shot off the cushion into the five.” He lied as he took a drink. “Your shot.” He handed the cue back to her.

She looked back at the table, seeing that the five was nowhere near where he ended up. “Sure.”

“So...” He started, leaning back against the table. “I thought you said earlier that you like to 'keep work separate'?” He asked casually as he busied himself looking at his fingernails.

“What a good thing neither of us are working right now, then.” She muttered as she sank another ball.

“Hmm, seems that way.”

“And I didn't exactly intend to hang out with you this evening.” She added, taking her second shot and holding the cue out to him. “It's not my fault you invaded my Thursday night.”

“You say that like you're not having a good time.” He frowned as he took it back.

“I wouldn't be here if I wasn't having a good time.” She answered honestly. As soon as he heard that, he sank his final shot. He watched as the eight went straight into the corner pocket. “You… you just lost the game?” She asked in confusion.

“What a shame.” He sighed. “I guess I owe you a drink.” He said with a shrug as he brushed past her and walked to the bar. She should probably feel a bit more confronted about the fact that he'd just lost that game to spend time with her, but her brain was too clouded with the knowledge that he'd just lost that game to spend time with her.

They continued playing pool as Matty brought over the next round, and for some sudden reason, they seemed to be a lot more evenly matched. It was unquestionable how easily the conversation flowed between them, and it was also pretty easy to see the chemistry quickly forming.

“I'm not as good with girls as people think I am.” He debated as he took his shot, after hearing her prattle on about how much women fussed over him on the internet.

“You don't need to be good with girls at this point.” She said as she rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you realise how many people want to date you, Matty.” She laughed. “I mean, you’ve got a queue longer than the one to get into Glastonbury.” He couldn't help but join in with her laughter at the reference.

“That doesn't mean anything if I'm not attracting the right people.” He pointed out.

“What sort of people are you aiming to attract?” She asked in an attempt at nonchalance, intentionally looking away from him to hide her nerves.

“Someone like minded. Other musicians, people in the industry,” He paused, waiting until he had her attention before he finished his sentence, “cute radio presenters. That sort of thing.”

As her brain ticked into overdrive at this, she heard the bartender call out for anyone wanting last drinks. It was getting late. “I really need to be getting back home.” She groaned.

“Ah, but the bar doesn't close for another hour!” Matty protested.

“I've got work tomorrow.” She said, shaking her head. “And you,” She punctuated her sentence by jabbing him in the shoulder. “have a show.” He gently took her hand in his, using it as an excuse to pull her closer to him.

“I've done worse than play a show while I'm tired.” He argued, trying to convince her to stay a little longer.

“Well, I have a level of professionalism to uphold.” She smiled back at him. “When are you back in London next?”

He thought about this for a moment, “January.”

“That's forever away.” She said with a frown.

“Good thing you've got my number then.” She nodded slightly, suddenly finding herself losing her voice when she noticed his expression shift. He leaned in closer, and before she'd really had time to properly process it or kiss him back, he'd already moved away. “Keep in touch, love.” He grinned.

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @dot-writes @tooshhhy @robinrunsfiction @approved-by-dentists

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#matty healy x reader #Matthew Healy x Reader #sunsetinmyvein

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monabela · 3 years

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hey uhh..... advent denest!! this is just the first chapter, every day from now until christmas there will be a new one featuring a christmassy/wintery prompt for that day, but I won’t bother you with that here--check out the ao3 link! :D (maybe I’ll get some other chapters on here too, just to remind everyone, but I’ll think about that)

Snowfall Music

pairings/characters: Denmark (Søren)/Estonia (Eduard), mentioned Finland (Tuomi)/Sweden (Torbjörn), Sealand (Peter), Ladonia (Lars), Vietnam (Vinh), Czechia (Kveta) word count: 4782 summary: Eduard has enough to occupy him this December without having to look after his young cousins, or trying to organize events on his radio show, or having to field strange phone calls day after day, but it seems the end of the year has it out for him.

And somehow, Søren manages to brighten every dark day. Hopefully, he'll stick around for a while.

also on AO3 - further chapters posted there!

“Today on Radio 8, I have some pretty special guests on the show. Now, this was a surprise for me as well—” Eduard opens the audio channels of two of the other microphones in the studio— “but I’m excited they’re here, so welcome to my cousins, Pete—”

“Once removed,” Lars interrupts, raising his eyebrows and wrinkling his freckled nose as if he thinks Eduard is a bit dim. He probably does, come to think of it. The boy is just at that age.

“Alright,” he amends anyway, “my first cousins once removed, Peter and Lars. They’re my first cousin Tuomi’s sons. Is that better?”

“Yes,” Lars replies imperiously. Peter is rolling his eyes, and Eduard has to stifle a laugh while he turns on some background music.

“Their parents are on a trip out of town for the week, so Peter and Lars have been entrusted to Uncle Eduard for the time being—first cousin once removed Eduard, I know, Lars, but I’ll start saying that when you start calling me that.”

“I will.”

“I don’t doubt it. Why don’t you two introduce yourselves, and then you can think of a song you’d like to hear.” He prays Tuomi hasn’t managed to instill too much of his taste in music in his sons just yet, because although they’re ostensibly a rock station, he doesn’t think his listeners are quite ready for metal that heavy.

“I’m Peter,” Peter all but shouts into his microphone, so Eduard lowers his volume slightly. “I’m twelve, and I, ah, I play hockey, I guess?”

That sounds about right.

“And Lars?”

“Well, I’m Lars, I’m also twelve, and I have a podcast.”

“A podcast, really? What’s it about?”

“School and things,” he replies, and nothing else.

“That’s great,” Eduard enthuses anyway, because he does think it is. “You must be excited to visit the studio, then. Would you like to work in radio someday?”

Peter is shaking his head quite frantically and making slashing motions with both hands, but the damage is done, as Lars huffs, wrinkling his nose again and leaning in close to the microphone.

“Radio is very different from podcasts. You just talk around the music.”

Eduard blinks. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

Eduard looks helplessly over at his production assistant, who seems uncharacteristically amused by the whole exchange, her eyebrows twitching ever so slightly.

“Where did you get that sass from?” He knows it must be Tuomi, unless his husband, Torbjörn, has very deeply hidden depths. And, before Lars can actually reply, “Peter, what should we listen to? What music do you like?”

Lars is opening his mouth, but Peter forestalls him, yelling, “Imagine Dragons!”

So Eduard starts a jingle as he lines up an Imagine Dragons song from the station’s playlist and an older rock song to play after that, pushing the slides for the microphone channels down. When he looks at Lars, the boy is just glancing away, attempting to seem disinterested in everything going on by crossing his arms and pressing his lips together. Eduard shakes his head fondly as he scrolls through some of the messages people have sent the show, including some asking if his cousins will help him judge his weekly dumbest pun contest, which he doesn’t imagine will benefit the already low bar for that one, so that’s perfect.

When he asks the boys about it, Lars starts to say something undoubtedly disparaging about how his podcast never has puns, but Peter quickly interrupts again. Eduard is around them enough that he knows this has been their usual behavior for the past few years, and more often than not, the brothers remind him strongly of himself and Tuomi at their age. They always were more like siblings than cousins, and when their older cousin Erzsébet was asked to babysit, she never seemed inclined to stop them.

Granted, he wasn’t doing podcasts when he was twelve, but he does remember using the house phone to call the local radio station multiple times until his parents started threatening to take the phone bill out of his allowance, and then how was he going to buy CDs? The radio show hosts actually wondered what happened to him after a couple of days without word and his parents had to call in to explain. It’s a fond if embarrassing memory.

The show continues in a slightly messier fashion than usual, mostly due to Peter’s attempts to interrupt every single sentence his brother starts to say and Lars stubbornly talking over him, but it’s fun. Eduard reminds himself to make a compilation or something to give Tuomi and Torbjörn when they get back home.

He lets Lars pick a song as well, as his afternoon show nears the end of its first hour. While the mildly surprising requested obscure progressive rock plays, he becomes aware of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Turning, Eduard huffs a laugh when he spots the sheepish-looking freckled face peering through the studio’s windowed door.

“Boys,” he says, ignoring that Lars just glares at him for daring to interrupt his very intent listening, “looks like your uncle finally showed up.”

Peter’s face lights up when he sees the man on the other side of the door, waving enthusiastically. Søren waves back, face splitting in a grin. Although he is Torbjörn’s brother and not a cousin, he doesn’t bear much more resemblance to his brother than Eduard does to Tuomi. He’s tall, but not as tall as Torbjörn is—or Eduard, for that matter—and his eyes are a darker blue pronounced by nearly-black eyebrows that don’t match his coppery hair at all. Eduard has always thought of him as not handsome necessarily, but definitely interesting, and he’d be lying if he said he minded having to look after his cousins with the man.

They’re not close, but he and Søren have spent some time together, albeit mostly when Tuomi and Torbjörn needed someone to look after their sons for a while.

Now, Peter is moving his hands in a flurry of signals Eduard can’t make much of, except that he points at him at the end, and Søren is quickly signing back, his eyebrows jumping wildly.

“He can come in, you know,” Eduard tells Peter, slightly bewildered. He ignores the annoyed look his production assistant is giving her soundboard. At least, he thinks it’s annoyed. It can be hard to tell, with Vinh.

Peter dashes to the door to let in his uncle, who ruffles the boy’s unruly blond hair, waves at Lars—who ignores him—and grins at Eduard with a sheepish edge to it.

“Hey,” he says, “thanks so much for looking after ‘em! Sorry I couldn’t get there in time. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

“Lars is having loads of fun,” Peter declares, then proceeds to duck out of the way when Lars throws a wad of paper at his head. Eduard shrugs at Søren.

As Lars’s song ends, a commercial break begins, and Vinh wanders away to grab some tea and probably gossip about him with the other hosts, so Eduard puts his headphones down and turns his attention fully to Søren. The man is dressed in the same leather jacket he always seems to be wearing and a T-shirt, but doesn’t appear to be cold in the slightest. He has stuck both hands into the pockets of his jacket, but he still moves them wildly when he speaks. A backpack is slung over one shoulder.

“Thanks again. I really couldn’t get out of work, so I’m glad you could take the boys to yours.”

“Of course, no problem.” Eduard pushes his glasses up. “We did have fun, right, boys?”

Predictably, the response is lackluster, since Peter and Lars are too busy swatting at each other with Eduard’s papers.

“I promise we did,” he tells Søren a little forlornly, receiving a full laugh in response, blue eyes glittering in the studio’s bright lights and crinkling up at the corners.

“One day, they’ll learn to appreciate us, Eduard.”

The dubious expression he pulls in return must be funnier than he imagined, because Søren laughs again, extracting a hand from his jacket to clasp his shoulder. He smells pleasantly like the winter air outside, and like hair gel.

“I aspire to help ‘em keep as many secrets from their parents as possible, so they’ll be forever in my debt.”

“You have to wonder if that’s worth incurring Tuomi’s wrath.” Eduard turns back to his soundboard and patches the newsreader in from another location.

“I can take Tuomi.”

“I think that’s your brother’s job.”

Søren makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh and that makes Eduard grin, shaking his head.

“Are you staying for a while? The boys have a pun contest to judge, and I’m sure my listeners would like to hear from you.”

“Sure, sounds great,” he says, his grin softening surprisingly. “I just gotta ask you to keep the background music to a minimum, if you can.” He gestures vaguely at his ear, and Eduard remembers something.

“Right, you don’t hear so well, do you?”

“Practically deaf without my hearing aids, kind of a bummer when you’re on a radio show, I imagine.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling up.

“That’s why pa taught us sign language,” Peter pipes up. “Dad is so bad at it. Uncle Søren, I’d like it if you stayed.”

“Sign language,” Eduard repeats, because of course that’s what that was, but also, how has he never realized that before now? He’s more-or-less known Søren for over fifteen years by now. “Well, I’ll watch the music. Let me know if it still bothers you.”

Vinh returns just as the short second commercial break is ending, inclines her head towards Søren, who waves and does not seem the least perturbed by her lack of outward response, and they set off on the second hour of the show. Eduard lowers the volume of the background music to nearly zero, gesturing at Vinh to leave it.

“While we were away, my first cousins’ once removed actual uncle finally showed up, after he promised he’d pick his nephews up from school—”

“Hey,” Søren interrupts, “you’re painting me in a bad light here, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“It’s the light of truth.”

Astonishingly, Lars snickers at that. He apparently doesn’t care who gets made fun of as long as it’s not him.

“Well, he’s here now, so hello, Søren. He works for the same company my cousin does, so… Is it your fault that we’re saddled with these kids now?”

“Well, I did introduce their parents to each other, so I suppose…” Søren winks at Peter, who sticks his tongue out. “Hey, Eduard, I hear these two got to pick a song to listen to. Do I get a go at that?”

Eduard laughs. “No, no. You need to do a better job of picking them up from school for that. Maybe next time. Actually, I think we’re overdue for some Christmas music. It’s December, after all!”

Peter crows triumphantly. Søren just grins, shaking his head at Eduard, who shrugs in turn, amused.

The hour goes by fairly quickly. Søren animatedly asks the boys questions about their school day during songs that even Lars answers sometimes, and Vinh doesn’t seem to mind him, which is high honor.

By the time the host of the early evening show has arrived and is setting up her stuff while the last song of Eduard’s show plays, he has received quite some messages asking if his cousins or their uncle, who, according to one of his frequent listeners, ‘sounds like a rad dude’, will return. He gestures Søren over from where he’s now already making merry conversation with his colleague, who looks more bewildered than anything.

“What’s up?”

“Well, it seems my listeners like you more than they like me.” Eduard gestures at his computer screen, and Søren grins as he leans over next to him to read the messages. He’s taken his leather jacket off. There are freckles on his bare arms too, and he is making Eduard cold just by looking at them.

“Y’know, the only way to make ‘em rethink that is if I do come back, ain’t it? I can just be an all-round terrible co-host.”

“I like that idea,” Eduard replies, before turning his microphone on as the song ends. “Bruce Springsteen and Born to Run, and it’s the end of another afternoon. Kveta just got here—” he turns his attention to the next host, who nods— “Kveta, anything we can look forward to today?”

“No family members, I think, unless anyone wants me to prank call my stepbrother again.” She laughs. “I’ve got some great new tracks, and there might be some live music going on.”

“Very nice.”

“Of course. So, Eduard, are your family members coming back?”

Søren, who is still next to Eduard, pokes him in the side, then leans further forward to speak into his microphone.

“I’ve always dreamed of being a radio star.”

“I think he’s coming back to usurp me.” Eduard turns to Søren, almost poking his nose into the man’s spiky hair. “He’s already using my mic. And who knows what Peter and Lars will do, they’re twelve.”

“I guess that’s true,” Kveta replies. “Wow, Eduard, he’s really up in your face. I feel like someone should be shielding your cousins’ eyes.”

Peter laughs from where he’s now standing next to Vinh, peering at her screen. Vinh raises her eyebrows at Kveta, who smiles, bites her lip, and looks away. Eduard has to smother a laugh.

“Again, they’re twelve. And I think it’s time we all start heading home, so I’ll leave you to it, Kveta. Please don’t bother your stepbrother too much.” He tilts his head towards Vinh, quirking his mouth, and Kveta glares but sounds upbeat as ever when she replies.

“Can’t promise anything. Now, next hour, we’re starting off with some new music, so stay tuned. Eduard will be back tomorrow afternoon at four.”

The commercial break starts, and Eduard sets about packing up his things, gesturing Peter away from Vinh so Kveta can talk to her a bit before her own production team takes over. Most days, he’d stay at the studio for a while, but he decides to go home right away—Lars and Peter left some of their school supplies at his house that they’ll probably need tomorrow. So, after saying goodbye to Vinh and Kveta, he herds his cousins and Søren out of the studio and towards the elevator, which they ride down to the parking garage. Søren swings his backpack around and pulls out a knit red scarf.

When they reach the garage, the man grasps Eduard’s shoulder as they exit the elevator, stopping him in his tracks. The boys are already racing towards the car, which Eduard also wouldn’t have taken on most other days, preferring to use the bus, but he figured it’d be smarter to take his cousins that way.

“Hey,” Søren is saying, “I biked here, so—”

“In this cold? Do you want a lift?”

He blinks. Scratches his temple.

“There’s a bike carrier on my car,” Eduard adds. “It’s pretty new, I—”

“Uncle Eduard!” Peter calls, waiting by the back door of the car. Eduard holds up a hand—while Lars reminds his brother it’s first cousin once removed Eduard—and pulls the key fob out of his bag to unlock the door for him, then turns back to Søren.

“It’d be no problem; I could take you all over to your place after we stop by my house.”

“We should do dinner,” Søren says, à propos of nothing, his face bright in the gloom of the garage. “Yeah? I owe you one. What kinda food d’you like?”

“I… No, it’s fine, they’re my cousins, it was no trouble at all! I don’t need anything, Søren.” Eduard laughs awkwardly, fiddling with his glasses and looking towards his car. Peter is peering over the backseat.

“We could take the boys out somewhere—this weekend, maybe, before Tuomi and Torbjörn get back. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.” His hand, still on Eduard’s shoulder, squeezes gently with every other word as if Søren is trying to get his usual gestures across that way. Or, now that he thinks about it, those are probably actual signs. He smiles.

“Well, maybe. I don’t have a show on the weekends.”

“Yeah?” When he pulls his hand back, Søren’s fingers glance off Eduard’s neck. They’re warm. “I’m sure we can find something even Lars will approve of.”

That sounds dubious, but Eduard will hold out hope. Søren agrees to a lift, though, and they figure out how to put his bike on the carrier without difficulties before piling in and driving over to Eduard’s house.

Søren traipses inside after Lars and Peter, peering around curiously.

“Nice place,” he tells Eduard, who waits in the hall while his cousins collect their things. And, “Hey, you should stay for dinner at mine.”

“Søren…”

“Just sayin’, why eat here all by your lonesome when there’s plenty of food at mine? You gotta go there anyways.” At this, he pokes Eduard’s arm gently. “I mean, if you need some alone time after dealing with those two, I ain’t judging.”

Huffing a laugh, Eduard shakes his head. “I don’t know how Tuomi and Torbjörn do it.”

“Together, and with practice, I guess. Wanna come?”

Eduard contemplates it for a moment, looking into the living room and thinking about the leftover spaghetti he has in the fridge.

“Alright. Thank you, Søren.”

Søren smiles, softer than seems to be the norm for him, his cheeks dimpling gently. It’s like a little ray of sunshine on a December day.

“Boys!” he yells, clasping Eduard’s shoulder again when he winces. “Sorry. I’m no good at regulating my own volume.”

Lars is glaring at his uncle, having already been standing in the doorway to the living room with his school bag in hand and having heard him loud and clear.

“Sorry,” Søren repeats, this time signing it as well, putting his hands together as if in prayer.

“What?” Peter yells back from somewhere else. Seconds later, he skids into the hall, his sneakers leaving black marks on the wood floor. “What.”

“Eduard’s coming over for dinner. Got everything?”

They both nod, and Peter claps Eduard on the back as they all head back out. Søren laughs. He takes his scarf off when he gets into the car this time.

“Hey, are you allergic to anything? Or vegetarian?”

“I’m not, don’t worry.” He checks over his shoulder that his cousins have their seatbelts on, then starts his car. “I mean, I don’t eat a lot of meat these days, but I won’t say no.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s good. I oughta be better at that.”

With Søren’s instructions—gestures included—Eduard finds his building on the outskirts of one of the older suburbs easily. Søren tosses Lars the keys to his apartment and the boys run off while Eduard helps him get his bike down from the car, then waits while he parks it somewhere in the shared storage space.

“Alright! C’mon, Eduard, I don’t really want ‘em to break my kitchen down.”

After taking the stairs, they reach Søren’s apartment on the second floor. The door has been left open, and little lights twinkle around the frame.

“Hey!” Søren says, surprised, as Eduard curiously looks around the narrow hall. It’s much neater than he somehow expected, probably just because of Søren’s slightly chaotic mannerisms. Since he sees that his cousins have lined their shoes up by the door, he takes his own off as well, putting them next to Peter’s.

Entering the living room, he understands Søren’s surprise. Peter and Lars are rushing to set the table, apparently trying to outdo each other in speed. There is a tiny Christmas tree on a dresser that suddenly seems quite precarious.

“Be careful,” Eduard says, a little feebly, and Peter grins at him, his hands stacked with far too many plates for four people. It seems to be going alright for now, so Eduard leaves them be to seek out Søren.

“Uh, Søren?” He walks into the kitchen. It’s a surprisingly large space, and Søren already has some pans out and is reaching up for a cutting board. He doesn’t appear to have heard Eduard over the clattering happening in the living room.

“Are you sure about… That?” Eduard asks, when the man has a hold of his cutting board and spots him.

“What, the boys? They’ll be fine.” Something crashes loudly, and Søren pulls a rueful face at the door. “I jinxed it.”

“We’ve got it, Uncle Søren!” Peter yells.

“I’m gonna just… Hey, Eduard, can you get some water boiling while I go check on that?”

“Of course,” he replies, holding a thumb up. Søren pauses on his way out of the kitchen and smiles.

“Of course,” he repeats, moving his hand forward while he first holds just his pinkie up and then opens his whole hand. He does it again, slightly slower, and Eduard tries to replicate the sign. “Hey, great!”

Before he rushes off to assess the damage, he makes an okay sign with one hand.

Eduard fills a pan with water, assuming it’s for the rice Søren’s put on the counter, and turns the stove on to heat it. Søren returns quickly, carrying almost all of the plates Peter was hauling around.

“I think Tuomi and Torbjörn are raising ‘em too well,” he says, putting the plates away. “I don’t think I ever voluntarily set the table until I moved out. Can you slice these peppers?”

Eduard can, while Søren pulls some chicken out the fridge to fry it.

“They’re just hungry. Besides, didn’t they just break a plate?”

“Just the one, it’s fine. I definitely wouldn’t have done a chore if I was hungry. Gotta wonder how Torbjörn turned out so decent.”

“Keeping you in check?”

Søren laughs heartily at that, leaning his hands on the counter so that his shoulders shake visibly. He’s just in his T-shirt again, and Eduard can see now that it is merch of a band he plays sometimes and likes well enough, although he wouldn’t call himself a fan. He slices the bell peppers and some cauliflower, and smiles as a delicious spicy scent fills the kitchen a while later.

Peter sidles into the kitchen as Søren covers the pan to let it simmer for a while. He looks like he’s about to lift the lid again.

“Hey, hey, watch out,” Søren says, pulling his hand away. “That’s hot.”

“I just wanna see.”

He’s always done that, as far as Eduard knows. He can clearly recall a load of pictures of toddler Peter pressed up against the glass of ovens and washing machines and microwaves. He wonders when he’ll grow out of it, or if he’ll be like Tuomi, who still watches whatever he’s cooking for at least ten minutes, but then Tuomi is bad at cooking and might just be making sure it’s not going to explode.

Peter stubbornly crosses his arms and stares at the pan.

“Are you planning on staying there?” Søren asks.

“Probably,” he replies brightly, turning his head to address his uncle. Søren throws a fond smile at him and ruffles his hair before he can duck away.

“Eduard, by the way, I still think we should get dinner this weekend,” he says, pointing a finger at Eduard, who accepts that with a helpless gesture, mostly aimed in an amused Peter’s direction.

“Is that where you get that stubborn streak from?” Eduard asks him, and both Peter and Søren burst out laughing at that.

“It’s like you’ve never even met his parents!”

“Pa says no one is allowed to play Monopoly anymore.” Peter shrugs. “Not that I wanted to, Monopoly’s boring, but Lars got real upset about it.”

“Dad stole all my hotels!” Lars yells from the living room, sounding extremely indignant. Tuomi really is that sort of person, Eduard thinks, glancing at Søren in amusement, but Søren is narrowing his eyes and looking at Peter questioningly.

“Dad stole Lars’s hotels,” the boy relays, and Søren nods, now returning Eduard’s look.

“No Monopoly, got it. I’m sure I got some other games, though, we’ll check it out later.”

Peter grins, nodding. Eduard fears that both his cousins have inherited Tuomi’s competitiveness.

Dinner is good. Eduard is used to eating by himself, or sometimes with Vinh or another coworker, often the early afternoon duo—he tends to spend that time looking at his phone, or, in the latter case, trying to mediate yet another argument between them. It’s nice to have someone to talk to instead of just listening to music or reading news articles.

Søren still gestures wildly while he’s eating, cutlery and all, sometimes even half-forming signs, but he somehow manages to avoid flinging any food as he does so. He says it’s an acquired skill, then launches into a story about throwing soup into Torbjörn’s hair when they were teenagers that has Peter laughing so hard he nearly chokes and Lars, in turn, yelling at him not to throw up or he’ll kill him.

“I’m not,” Peter replies, glaring fiercely even as he breaks out in a hacking cough again, and then quickly signs something at his brother that makes Lars glare back. They definitely inherited that from Torbjörn. Eduard gently claps Peter’s back, and even though he doesn’t think it’s helping much, Peter eventually quiets. His breathing settles back into a normal rhythm, and he takes a large gulp of his water.

“Peter, don’t confuse your cousin,” Søren says, making a downward slashing motion with both hands.

“Sorry, Uncle Eduard,” Peter tells him. He picks his fork back up.

“It’s fine,” Eduard replies, after realizing Søren is talking about Peter using sign language, which he doesn’t understand. Lars, on the other side of the table, rolls his eyes and touches his hand to his shoulder, which makes Søren sigh and shake his head at him.

“It is difficult, Lars.”

Eduard gestures for him to leave it be—wondering as he does so what his gesture might actually imply—and Søren doesn’t say anything else about it, but he does grumble, later, while they load the dishes into the dishwasher, that he knows his brother made it a point that they shouldn’t use sign language to exclude anyone on purpose.

“Probably ‘cause our parents had the same rule,” he explains, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. His T-shirt stretches across his shoulders, quite nicely, Eduard thinks. “Although that was mostly ‘cause we were better at it than them. Still are, and my mom would still put me in timeout too, 39 years old or not.”

“That sounds fair. I really didn’t mind, though.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, y’know?”

There is a ruckus from the living room. Søren raises his dark eyebrows questioningly.

“They’re, ah… They’re arguing over which game they want to play.”

“Yeah, that seems about right. Are you staying longer or are you heading home?”

“I should probably be going, I like to do some preparations before I go to sleep.” He adjusts his glasses. “Thank you for dinner. You’re always welcome at mine, too.”

“Might take you up on that, Eduard.” Søren runs a hand over his hair and pushes away from the counter. “I’ll probably see you around before the end of the week, I need your help with those kids.”

“Like I said, their parents do it together too.”

That gets him a lopsided grin and a wink that he doesn’t know what to think about but quite likes anyway. Eduard goes to collect his coat and shoes, bids his cousins a good night before they both try to convince him their choice of board game is the right one, and heads out. Søren walks him down to the parking lot.

“I’ll see you, then,” he tells the man, biting his lip when he gets another lopsided smile.

“See you ‘round, Eduard.” He waves shortly when Eduard pulls up in his car, illuminated for a moment by the headlights as he turns off the parking lot. Still just in his T-shirt.

Back home, Eduard leans over to get his papers out of the glovebox, and his hand brushes against something soft. Blinking, he picks it up from the passenger seat and lets the soft wool run across his hands. Søren’s scarf, he realizes, and takes it inside with him.

He’s sure he’ll have the opportunity to return it soon enough.

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smolbeandrabbles · 3 years

Text

The Edges - Ralph Anderson x Reader (The Outsider)

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: Requested by a sweet Anon 🥰 Thank you for requesting-!

So I thought this was gonna be really short and then I just... did this all in an evening.

I’ve put you in book setting of Flint City and DA Bill Samuels again, sorry 🙈

Also Ralph is an Autumn/Winter baby now, I don’t make the rules.

Featuring a super obscure reference from Episode 8 of ‘The Outsider’

Disclaimer: The Outsider not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine / AU no Derek or Jeannie here

Premise: Ralph Anderson could count on himself to say the wrong thing, only this time it’s two days before the birthday you’ve spent all month planning for him. This time he’s not sure if ‘sorry’ is going to cover it...

Words: 4403

Warnings: Swearing / slight sexual connotations / drinking / AU

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If life's a puzzle there's a piece for the night we met Next to the one where you drove me home If life's a puzzle there's a piece for our first kiss And it's connected to a summer song And nothing else fit baby before this Love was a struggle So all I know is baby that if this life's a puzzle You are the edges, you're holding all of me together You are the edges making the bigger picture better Before you I didn't know where to start You rounded up the pieces of a broken heart Might take a little time to figure out what the rest is But you are the edges, you are the edges If life's a puzzle there's a piece for our first fight It's bright red and it fits just right Next to the one shaped like sorry On a long ride home from a birthday party And nothing else fit baby before this Love was a struggle So all I know is baby that if this life's a puzzle You are the edges where everything ends and it begins You are the edges and we're gonna fill this whole thing in Yeah Before you I didn't know where to start You rounded up the pieces of a broken heart Might take a little time to figure out what the rest is But you are the edges

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It was a stupid thing to say. He regretted it as instantly as it came out of his mouth. It was watching the light leave your eyes, all your excitement was gone – just like that. The day was getting later, and he’d had a hard one at work. With two days until his birthday Ralph really wanted nothing more than to have a quiet night in and forget about everything. You, who had spent the last month or so planning his birthday out, could not have had a more opposite feeling. It wasn’t exactly a big secret; you were going to dinner with all your closest friends, and then you’d hired out almost the entirety of his favourite bar to have people come and go as they pleased to wish him happy birthday. And you’d extended that out to pretty much all of Flint City, and your families. So, tonight’s exciting information was that his brother just so happened to be in the area and had promised to drop in. Now, Ralph doubted that would actually happen, but for you to even get hold of Johnny – yet alone get a verbal agreement – was its own achievement. But Ralph was tired, he didn’t care right now, and if he was honest… he wasn’t even sure he wanted a big party with the way he was feeling. So when he just kinda nodded along with an “Uh huh.” And you’d read him and said, “Babe, what’s wrong?” You’d been hit with the very knee-jerk reaction of, “I don’t even want this party! This is all your idea! I just wanna have a quiet birthday!” That not only got increasingly loud, but also angrier. Leading to silence that made Ralph wish he’d just bit his tongue. Then he’d tried to stumble through something else to make it better, but he’d only succeeded in making it worse – and pretty soon you’d been crying and had not only run from the room, but also the house… That was two nights ago, and sitting at his desk on his actual birthday, you hadn’t been home yet. Well, not that he’d seen. Ralph knew he’d overdone it, but he wanted to apologise to your face, rather than over text or call. Besides, he’d actually called your mobile more than a few times yesterday and every single time it went to voicemail. He didn’t want to tell any of his friends that anything was up, and in fact they were just as excited about tonight as you had been. Every time someone called out a cheerful ‘Happy Birthday!’ to him Ralph had to smile and say ‘thank you’ gracefully, even though he was even less joyous about it today than he had been when you’d run out. Eventually Ralph gave in and gave you one last call. Voicemail. Again. There was nothing for it then, other than to hunker down and do his work until he could drive home and get ready for tonight. Yune was the one to tap his desk eventually and snap him out of it, “Yo, birthday boy – it’s go time!” “Oh man, just let me finish this report…” “Uh uh, no way!!” Yune dragged Ralph’s chair away from his desk, and hoisted him up by his arms, “Out! Out! Out! We’re getting rounds in before dinner, I’m buyin’… or Samuels is buying, whatever-! Someone is buying that ain’t you!” Ralph couldn’t help but laugh, “Okay! Okay! Can I shut my computer down at least-!?” “I’m watching you, type another sentence and I’m gonna pull it out of the wall, and you won’t get the chance to save it!” Yune grinned. “Geez, I wouldn’t put it past ya either…” Then Ralph remembered, “Hold on, are you going right now?” “Well, yeah, but our fancy DA won’t be there until a little later – why?” “I… gotta get changed, first.” “Cool, I’ll wait in the car.” Ralph laughed again, “Alright, sweet!” Yune tapped him as they walked back through the precinct, “That’s to make sure you don’t skip out on me! You can’t leave me alone with him, I’ll go insane!” *** They managed to get a few rounds in before Samuels appeared – during that time Ralph tried to forget that the other reason he wanted to be home was to check for signs of you, still nothing – and the DA looked as ticked off as usual. Yune led off, arms folded, “Go on then, which one of ‘your boys’ is giving you jip this time.” Bill Samuels had changed out of his suit too: nice shirt, nice jeans, good black leather jacket – he gave Yune a look to shut him up and turned his unimpressed face on Ralph. “I hear you’re in a lot of shit!” Yune’s expression was unfathomable, “It’s his birthday man, what the hell!” Although when his eyes flicked back to Ralph, the detective looked guilty. Ralph swallowed thickly, “She told you.” “Yeah, she’s been at my place for two days – she won’t tell me everything, but you’ve clearly upset her!” Yune raised an eyebrow, Ralph of course hadn’t told anyone you’d had a falling out. It would make sense for Bill Samuels to know everything though, and for you to go to him. He was your best friend in Flint City, your parents lived out of town so there wasn’t really anywhere else you could have gone. Ralph should have used his detective skills to figure that out – in fact it probably wouldn’t even have taken a detective. “What the hell-!?” Yune smacked his arm, “What happened!?” “It was stupid, but she can’t say I haven’t tried calling her to apologise! She won’t pick up my calls!” “What did you say-!?!?” “I told her I didn’t want this…” Samuels put a hand to his forehead, “After she’s just spent a month planning it out?” “I know! It was late, I had a bad day at the office, I’m an idiot, can we move on?” Bill and Yune gave each other the same look before the DA cleared his throat, “Well after all that, I hope she turns up!” Ralph sighed, turning back to the bar, “Me too.” Yune could only grimace before quickly changing the subject, “Another round guys? What you having?” *** All things considered; Ralph did actually find himself enjoying his birthday evening. You didn’t turn up to the meal however, and after a few reassurances that ‘she’ll be here!’ both from his friends to him and also him to those who joined the three of them, everyone just kinda lapsed into silence about it. Not before Yune had hissed at Samuels to text you. “I can’t force her to come Yune-!” “Well, can we just put the guy out of his misery already?” “Ralph’s a big boy, he can handle it.” “Yeah okay, and whatever he said to her he shouldn’t have. But she set all this up… it’s a shame for her to miss it.” You didn’t reply to the text, but Bill did indicate that you’d read it. When they all arrived at the bar it was done up with banners and streamers, people were already waiting to celebrate with Detective Anderson and seemed to want to buy him round after round of drinks. Ralph just allowed himself to get lost in it all. Turning to the others with a slight smile, “Well, at least we know she was here.” It was nice to see old friends again, and you really had done a brilliant job with coordinating things, digging out people’s contact details and inviting them over from miles around. What struck Ralph the most was how happy they all were to be invited and to see him. The more he heard people say that, and talk about how sweet you were over the phone the more he beamed. “She- she’s really somethin’!” Ralph agreed, with a humble smile, only wishing that as he said it he could pull you closer and watch you get shy, burying your face in his jacket to hide the cute way you would blush. Ralph even received a call from Holly Gibney to wish him the best, “Happy Birthday Ralph!” “I knew you wouldn’t forget.” “I didn’t. But Y/N called anyway to invite me over. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” “She seems to have called the entire world to wish me well, Holly!” “Doesn’t surprise me!” She laughed gently, “Give her my love too, Ralph.” “I will. I promise.” If only he could see you to do such a thing. Things got later and he, Bill and Yune were back sitting at a bar chatting about nothing in particular. Including Ralph and Yune summing up cases that were heading Bill’s way and him rolling his eyes, “Brilliant. This sounds so exciting.” And the other two bursting into laugher at the look on his face. At least they were glad to see Ralph having a good time. Making the most even out of a bad situation. *** When you arrived at the bar it certainly was late in the day, groups of people you’d invited all off talking but all still here for him. You were glad of that; it was important that Ralph realise just how much he meant to people – even those outside of Flint City. You couldn’t help but smile as you continued to look around – the owners had let you come in early and spend your morning putting everything up (and also venting your frustrations) and, now it was bustling with people, Ralph’s favourite bar looked even better. Those people who had spotted you were already thanking you for their invites and commenting on how lovely the decorations were. You were taking all of that very much to heart. ‘Worth it in the end, wasn’t it, Ralph Anderson?’ You’d fought with yourself all evening – on the one hand you were scared that he really didn’t want to be here, and that he would just upset you all over again if you turned up and he wasn’t enjoying it, or he was only acting like he was enjoying it. Perhaps Ralph wouldn’t even have turned up at all – although you’d imagine Yune Sablo would have dragged him across town, no excuses. Part of you wanted to stay away out of spite – but then you didn’t want to be spiteful towards him on his birthday. You weren’t sure you could face him over dinner though, so that you’d had to skip and just hoped everyone would forgive you later. You also wanted to make sure that people were here before you turned up, because the ease of conversation between you would be better when the focus wouldn’t be on the two of you as the birthday boy and his significant other. Now to find him… Ralph was not the first of the three of them to spot you; Samuels was the one who offered you a small wave across the bar before nudging him. “Huh?” The DA just nodded and Ralph swivelled on his chair, before his lips parted. You were standing a little way away, and Ralph couldn’t describe you as looking anything other than flawless. Hair and makeup done, your dress was perfect – just the right length to be modest yet show off your legs, sleeves and shoulders in pretty patterned lace, in your hands was a card and present. You stood out in stark contrast to everyone else in the room. You caught his eye and smiled softly, but were clearly waiting for him to come to you. Yune pushed his back, “Go get her, Tiger.” Ralph almost told him to shut up, especially as Bill decided the joke was worth laughing at, but instead slipped from his stool and crossed the room to you. “You’re here.” You nearly giggled, “It’s your birthday, Ralph Anderson, of course I’m here.” “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.” “I won’t lie, I had to talk myself into it.” His head bowed, “I’m sorry.” “I forgive you, we all have bad work days – I should have known that too.” “No, no. This one is on me, I won’t let you blame yourself.” “Okay, well…” You stepped forward, closing the gap between you, and stood up on your toes – sometimes you loved that he was so tall, sometimes you’d damn him for it - brushing your lips to his, before Ralph pulled you in for a real kiss. Sweet, gentle and apologetic. You knew you had an audience; you didn’t really care. “Happy Birthday.” Sinking back to height you held out his gift, “I hope you like it.” “Thank you.” Ralph took it from you delicately, already chuckling, “Is this what I think it is?” It was so obviously record shaped that he didn’t see how it could be anything else. You gave a shrug, “You’ll have to open it won’t you.” “If this is ‘The Original Washington Square’ I’ll kill you!” “Uh, careful, Detective, there’s a whole bunch of witnesses!” “And a DA and a police lieutenant, but I’m sure we can cover it up if I can get them on side.” “Samuels? Good luck!” He continued laughing, turning it over in his hands, “Can I open it?” “Isn’t that what gifts are for?” He tore carefully through the paper, and then started laughing: The Original Washington Square by The Village Stompers, indeed. “I can’t believe you found it-!” “Took some digging, but some people I know came through.” “Near mint… Aw, Y/N.” Ralph enveloped you in a hug, “I really… really don’t deserve you.” You squeezed him tight, happy to once again be in his arms, “Now don’t you start-! Happy Birthday, darling!” You both stepped back, and he took your hands in his as best he could, “Do you want a drink, or something?” “Actually… I know it’s the party I set up, but I came here to steal you away, Mr. Anderson.” “Oh?” He smiled, “Stealing? You’re walking a fine line there!” “Thought as much!” Ralph turned back to the other two, “Can I say goodbye?” “Mhm.” You ushered him back to them, and at least you watched the three of them banter together before they both hugged him, wishing him the happiest of birthdays – and something that was obviously suggestive by the way he shoved Yune’s shoulder – before they waved him and you off. Ralph draped his arm around your shoulders with a gentle smile, “Alright, you’ve piqued my interest, where are you taking me?” “Ahhhhh… It’s a surprise! Use your detective skills, and you might just figure it out!”

*** Ralph recognised the road you were taking out of Flint City at least – it was the one you needed for the main road to your parents place, so wherever you were taking him, it was easy for Ralph to see how you’d discovered it. “We’re not going all the way out to your folks, are we?” You smirked from the drivers side, “Why? Nervous?” “Not unless you’ve told your dad I upset you two days ago.” “I did no such thing!” You laughed, “It’s just up here, don’t worry yourself.” “As a detective…” Ralph craned his neck, there weren’t many lights up this road to tell him much of anything, “…dark secluded places out in the middle of nowhere tend to get my back up.” “Well thank god I have the FCPD’s finest with me.” He chuckled, and you saw the pink dust his cheeks, “Alright you, I get it.” When you pulled into a side road that Ralph didn’t even see coming, he was glad that your truck was built for off roading, “Yeah, now I’m getting real nervous!” There was a faint glow just up the track and soon you turned again as a tiny collection of quaint looking buildings came into view. Ralph squinted at the sign, “What… is a stargazing ranch?” “Bet you didn’t know Flint City was anywhere near one.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” “It is a stargazing ranch. Is what it is.” “…You’d be so helpful in a police interrogation.” You beamed across at him, “You’re welcome!” You continued on a little way until you came upon another little collection of guest huts, although you were paying more attention to the sky. “Look, Ralph! Look at them!” Well at least he knew now that stargazing was literal. “Where are we?” “You can stay here, but it’s mostly for avid stargazers. Ah, the things you can find on the internet.” “…Right well,” he cleared his throat, “what made you think of this?” “I watch you out in the garden sometimes, but you can’t see them as well there. And I just… wanted to get you alone for a little while.” You parked your truck up, “Your birthday isn’t over, either.” “Are we… staying here?” “Mhm. Don’t worry about clothes and stuff, trust me, you’re covered.” You opened the truck door, “I just need to set up, hold on a second…” Ralph undid his seat belt but waited patiently, giggling to himself at how crazy this seemed to be as you rummaged around in the back of your truck. The tailgate went down and you hopped up and down in the bed for a little while, before you appeared at his side. “I’m gonna need that record and your accompaniment now.” “Can I get out?” “If you close your eyes and trust me.” “This is where I get murdered isn’t it?” “Oh yes.” He laughed, hopping out of the truck, closing his eyes obediently as you took his hand and led him around the back. He heard the flicking of a lighter – Ralph wouldn’t be surprised if it was his own and you’d done a little too much rummaging in his drawers for it – and then sparks, making his eyebrows furrow. “Okay.” You breathed quietly and turned back to him, “Happy Birthday, Ralph!” He opened his eyes slowly, and what came out was a mix of ‘Oh!’ and ‘Aw!’. In the back of your truck you’d set up blankets and pillows to make a comfortable fort for the evening, there was a small cooler for drinks, and a record player. That explained why you wanted the one he was currently holding. But the centrepiece of all this was a cake, three layers of his favourite type with his favourite frosting, inscribed with ‘Happy Birthday Ralph’. Complete with sparklers and- “What is that?” “Oh it’s a fountain… I thought it looked cool!” The shower of blue and silver sparks certainly was something to behold, and Ralph put his hand over his mouth for a second to stop grinning like too much of an idiot. “Oh, Y/N… You didn’t have to-” “YES. YES I did! How can you not understand that? You’re an idiot, Ralph Anderson but you mean the world to me. Heck, without you I don’t know where I would be! And I was SO mad at you! SO mad that you couldn’t see how much you meant to people that they would want to turn up to these things and tell you how much they loved you!! But it took me two days to figure this all out so staying with Bill was kinda a blessing but… Oh, Ralph… I know you think you’re one man to the world but you are the WORLD to so many people. And my world could not exist without you.” He was looking at you very seriously, and all of this was hitting him very hard. Ralph swallowed, fighting back the urge to let at least one tear fall as he wrapped you back in his arms, “Oh… Y/N… I’m…” “Don’t tell me your sorry, I know that… I know.” You wound your arms around him too, “Just… please tell me you realise how much you’re worth?” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and smiled, “Sometimes… I think I do. And you’re for sure going to kick it into me.” Ralph pulled back, “I guess I should blow those out and make a wish, huh?” “Yes. You should, but no telling!” Ralph blew the candles out and you let him cut the cake into neat pieces before you both clambered into the back of your truck. He slid the record from its sleeve and set it up on the player, settling back with you Ralph held you in his arms again. You listened in silence for a little bit, content to just eat cake and crack open some drinks in each other’s presence. “Did your brother turn up!?” “No.” He laughed, “I admire your trying.” “Unless he turned up so late that you’d left!” “I hope they gave him hell!” “Oh my god! You think they know who he is to do that?” “He doesn’t look so different to me!” “Don’t know about that, you’re certainly more attractive.” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Oh, we’re gonna trash talk my brother all night?!” Then you both ended up cracking up once more and Ralph turned his attention to the cake, “Okay, this is SO good – did you bake it!?” You blushed horribly, “I should pretend I did. But no, I just ordered it.” “Oh… I’ll forget I asked.” “Haha! I appreciate that!” He studied your face for a moment, before leaning in and kissing you suddenly, making you gasp, “Wh-” “Frosting.” “You are… not as smooth as you think you are!” He cackled, “Yeaaah right, you should see the look on your face!” You shoved him, though knew you were at least a little flushed. Then you did settle back to watch the stars, “Y/N, I know I’ve said thank you a few times tonight but, honestly, your planning is impeccable.” “So… Detective Anderson is telling me he had a good birthday?” “Yes…” “Wow. Not bad when he didn’t want it!” “HUSH!” “I’m holding that over you for a long time, babe, get used to it!” You raised your can with a smile and took a sip. “Just let me thank you!” “I am letting you thank me, gosh, to think you’re usually the one winding me up so easily.” “All I want to say is, thank you for making this such a great birthday… I only wish I hadn’t been such an idiot and you could have shared it all with me.” “Oh, was dinner good?” “Really good.” “I’m glad, it came highly recommended. I was busy up here; don’t worry I did eat. I guess I was worried you wouldn’t want to see me anyway.” “Look I’m just… I’m glad we’re here, now.” You smiled gently as Ralph brushed his lips to yours again, “Me too.” You continued to snuggle together under blankets until the record side needed to be changed and then, as Ralph skilfully flipped it, stayed that way until the record ended. You were happy that the sky was cloudless and that the stars were particularly bright. You’d worried about that all day. “Well,” he looked to the record player, “That was money well spent!” “Oh! I’m not done with you yet…” You rummaged around behind you, and pulled out another box, it made sounds every time you moved it and Ralph once again didn’t need detective skills to know what was inside. “You got me another gift?” “Mhm.” “…Look I know I’m old, but I’m not sure I’m ‘puzzles as a hobby’ old.” “Don’t be so rude and open it! You don’t know what it is!” His grin only told you that this time it was his tease rattling you - as it should be in his opinion - and once again tore the brightly coloured paper from the box neatly. Ralph paused for a second, looking at the picture that the pieces would create. Then looked to you questioningly. “Well, there’s not a picture of us in your office, and you always said this one was your favourite. So, when you’re between cases or you need to take your mind off a case… you can work on your puzzle and after you put the pieces together, you can frame it and put it on the wall-!” “You’re crazy.” “99% of the time, yeah. What’s your point?” But Ralph was beaming, “It is my favourite. But you could have just got me a framed photograph.” “Too easy, Mr. Anderson. I wanted to give you something to do! Also there’s some cheesy line about completing me in there too, but I’m too embarrassed to say it out loud…” He placed the box down and cupped your face in one of his hands before leaning to kiss you into silence again, “Don’t worry,” these words were said between kisses, “I know exactly what you meant.” You wrapped your arms around Ralph as these short sweet kisses continued, and the wind cut in just the wrong direction, forcing you to shiver. “Oh, someone’s cold.” “Well…” You jerked your head behind you, “There’s a whole ass hut back there we can go get warm in.” “Get warm, or get warm?” He questioned, without a hint of suggestiveness crossing his face; smooth one Ralph… “Well…” You thought on it for a minute, “Think that should be birthday boy’s choice.” “Ahhhh… Then I’ll just have to keep you guessing!” He winked, guiding you back to the tailgate you tidied a little before carrying things inside. You were right, it didn’t take long to get a little fire going and for it to warm up nicely. Ralph stood, and admired his handiwork before he turned to you, “Well, you did put on a nice dress just for me…” “Meaning what?” Although the smirk on your face was playful. “Meaning I shouldn’t waste the opportunity to love on such a kind, beautiful girl when she did so much for me today.” He crossed the room before sweeping you up into his arms. You pointed across the room, opposite to where he was taking you, “Alright, Detective Anderson, bedroom’s that way.” Ralph kissed you once again, slow and full of promises, “There she goes again.” “Happy to help, birthday boy.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, with a wink, kissing his cheek once more. As he turned on a dime, you still in his arms, he gave an embarrassed ‘we won’t talk about this’ clear of his throat. Well, you wouldn’t tease him about his detective skills just yet. You knew he was about to put them to good use.

---

Thank you for reading!! Thank you for requesting! 🥰

#Ralph Anderson x Reader #Ralph Anderson #The Outsider #hbos the outsider #the outsider hbo #Ben Mendelsohn #That Premise is... misleading at best but it's the one I wrote out.#190 #10 UNTIL 200!!#ONE-NINETY!#I'm SCREAMING!#I tried to make her less Harmony but it's a Harmony/Ralph song #...She's Harmony I can't lie. Just taken out of all her own context #Anderson and Andersson Detective Co.#AU!Harmony #Harmony #Also - I just... are HBO trying to tell us that Ralph is 46?#Because that's what I just did the calculation and got?#SO either they've fucked up Derek even more than I thought #Or Ralph is 46.#...I really am NOT going through 10 hours just to find the face of dereks grave stone again but if someone can tell me how old he was...#...when he died that would be aces #And when he died?#I think I remember it being 2018? And the show is set in 2019?#So if Derek was (book canon) 14.... then Ralph's age is #16 (age his mum died) + 15 (years later when Derek was born) + 14 (Dereks age) + 1 (2018-19)#Which is 46!#If anyone read this I will be surprised but it's worth putting it in here.

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whumpupthejam · 4 years

Text

He’s Out There

//tw: kidnapping, home invasion, stalking

Marcus’s hands are still shaking. They need to stop shaking. He can’t get the key to fit into the lock of his apartment door. Damn it, that’s the wrong key. What’s wrong with him? The jingling of metal is too loud in the otherwise silent night as he attempts to find the right one.

Not being able to stop himself as his panic rises, he looks back at the parking lot, eyes scanning the rows of vehicles belonging to his neighbors. Every shadow seems to deepen and darken as his eyes dart back and forth. They catch movement and his breath hitches, but it’s only Mrs. Allret walking her chihuahua, Diane. Nothing strange. Nothing unexpected for a Thursday night. But he can feel the eyes on him, same as he had in the grocery store. His flesh hasn’t stopped crawling since he first noticed the man staring at him from the end of the bread aisle. Everywhere he went in the store, the man’s dark eyes had followed. Is it stupid to think that the man might’ve followed him home? Somehow, Marcus is certain that he did—that he’s still watching him right now from some shadowed place that he can’t see.

“Fuck, fuck!” Marcus growls when he drops his keys. He hasn’t been standing in front of his door for more than twenty seconds, but it feels like twenty minutes, grocery bags weighing heavily on his wrists. Crouching as best he can, he grabs the keys and finally unlocks the door, still in that position. He half-crawls through the door, kicking it shut behind him. The groceries remain on the floor as he spins around to re-lock the door as quickly as possible.

He stays there for a moment, kneeling just inside, panting. As he slaps himself lightly on the cheek to pull himself out of it, he chuckles. This whole reaction was enormously stupid. Sure, that guy at the store was a freaking creep, but why would he follow Marcus home? And anyway, even if he did, it would be pointless. Marcus has nothing worth stealing. His apartment is modest at best, and he doesn’t even have enough furniture to fill it—he doesn’t even have a couch! He’s a college dropout. He eats 99¢ noodles for almost every meal. The only reason he was able to go on a more substantial shopping trip tonight was that his cousin finally paid him for when he dog-sat for her three weeks ago.

No, the only thing worth stealing might be his TV, or his laptop. His TV, the man can have if he wants it. It’s old and the audio stopped working last week. The laptop isn’t in too bad of shape, but it’s hardly something that Marcus thinks would make him the target of theft. There are plenty of other people in his complex with much more to offer than he does.

And if the man doesn’t want to steal from him, then he hardly knows what other reason he would have to follow him home. He doesn’t have any enemies. He doesn’t think he owes anyone any money other than Caleb, and his best friend is hardly going to put out a hit on him for thirty bucks.

It’s completely stupid to be so scared of some guy who was probably just acting weird ‘cause he was high or something. He didn’t follow Marcus home. He would’ve had no reason to. Even so, as Marcus stands up and grabs the dropped bags from the floor, the prickly feeling in his stomach doesn’t go away.

He turns on some music as he puts away his food, and sings along, hoping it will put him at ease. It does. He almost forgets about the man from the store until he sees someone cross quickly in front of his living room window. It’s just a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, but it was unmistakably a person. The blinds are drawn up like they always are. His building backs up to the woods, so there’s no reason anyone should be back there, especially at this time of night. He never feels the need to have the blinds down. Until now, that is.

He takes a shaky breath and turns to finish putting away his groceries. Maybe it was a late-night jogger after all—he doesn’t know that it’s a crazy man. As he puts the last item—a carton of eggs—in the fridge, there is a moment of silence as one song ends and another has not yet begun. Marcus can hear the sound of something moving in the bushes outside the window.

“Fuck,” he says, barely above a whisper.

He quickly shuts off the music and walks tentatively up to the glass. Nothing can be seen in the blackness except for the small bushes beneath the window, and the wall of trees a little ways off in front of him. He can’t get a very good view of the surrounding areas from behind the glass. Briefly, he wonders if he should step out onto the back porch, but quickly decides that that would be the most idiotic thing he could possibly do. Marcus is about to turn back to the kitchen when he notices something that makes his heart stop.

Just to the right of his window, obscured in shadow and almost hidden by the bushes, is the obvious shape of a person crouching down, watching him. He stumbles back as if he’s been shot in the chest, scrambling across the floor to hide behind the kitchen island. The shaking is back, and he can’t catch his breath. His heart is beating painfully against the inside of his chest.

He’s out there.

He doesn’t have to see the person clearly to know it’s him. He just knows.

With fingers that almost appear to be in spasm, he grabs his phone and begins typing out a message to his friend Jake, who happens to live in his building on the second floor.

>are ypy home?

>*you

Usually, Jake is pretty good about responding if he’s available, but two minutes pass and the message is still unread. Marcus presses the ‘call’ icon and puts the phone to his ear. It rings. It keeps ringing.

“Your call has been forwarde—” Marcus doesn’t let the robotic voice finish.

He tries again.

“Your call—”

He lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a whimper and a groan of frustration.

>pls man, tgeres someone outside

>you can call me a pussy I dont care. i’m scared.

>I think he followsd me home

He knows he’s making typos, but his hands are shaking so badly that he can’t do anything about it. Another couple of minutes passes. Marcus can’t bring himself to look around the corner of the island. He just sits with his back pressed against it, staring at his reflection in the oven door. He looks pathetic.

He almost jumps out of his skin when his phone buzzes. It’s Jake.

<Sorry, bud. out with Kass and her friends. pretty wasted. won’t be home tonight.

What? That’s it?

He presses the ‘call’ icon again. It rings.

“Hello?” Jake sounds mildly pissed as he answers. He also, admittedly, does sound wasted. Marcus can hear it in his voice.

“Jake, I’m sorry, but I’m telling you, some guy followed me home from the store, and I think he’s watching me through my window right now.”

“So? Close the window.”

“Jake!”

“Sorry. Sure you’re not seeing things, Marc? Hell, I see things all the time,” Jake slurs, chuckling slightly.

Marcus shakes his head in aggravation. “Dude, stop being an ass, you know I don’t make a big deal about this stuff.” He can’t keep his voice from wobbling. “Please, Jake, help me.”

The line is silent for a minute. “Sorry, Marc. I can tell you’re actually scared, and I’m being a dick. I wish I could help you out right now, but I’m across town and I can’t drive.”

Marcus squeezes his eyes shut. He’s out there right now. He keeps thinking. He’s out there.

“Have you called the police?” Jake asks when Marcus doesn’t respond.

“No.”

“I think you should. Hang up with me and call them right now.” Jake sounds so levelheaded when he says that. Almost like he’s not drunk at all.

“Ok, I will.” Marcus rubs his eyes.

“Call me or text me after you do.”

“I—” Marcus is cut off by a sound from the bedroom. He is frozen as he strains his ears.

It sounds... it sounds like a window sliding open.

Shit, shit, shit, fuck. He opened that window earlier. Did he forget to lock it when he closed it?

Marcus can’t move. He can’t breathe. His eyes are wide, his body trembling.

There are footsteps, causing the hardwood to creak.

He’s inside.

“Marc? Y’ok? Marc?” Jake’s voice on the phone sounds like it’s coming from miles away.

It’s strange, Marcus thinks, to hear someone moving around in the apartment so carefreely, as if they’re supposed to be there. When they’re not.

What should he do? Should he try to sneak away? Should he stand up and confront him—tell him to get the fuck out? Should he just wait to be found? What will happen? What does the man want?

Marcus hears the man enter the living room and he holds his breath. Jake is still trying to talk to him on the phone. He hangs up. There’s silence for a second. The man must just be standing in the middle of the room. Doing what? Looking for him? Listening?

A shiver runs downs Marcus’s already trembling spine and he shifts unintentionally. The wood creaks softly. Apparently that was what the man was waiting for. His footsteps are quick and loud as he crosses the distance to the kitchen island. Marcus doesn’t have time to think before his leg is yanked, his body forcefully dragged out from behind the counter so that he’s on his back staring up at his attacker, who straddles his hips in a flash.

Marcus has always felt too small, too weak. Even when he finally reached a height in high school that was declared by his doctor to be “completely average,” he never felt like his body mass was anywhere near proportional. His recent diet hasn’t helped matters.

This makes it nearly impossible for him to fight back against this man, who seems to be about 250 pounds of pure muscle, and who is painfully crushing his hips under his body. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. He pushes with all his strength against the man’s arms which are trying to come down to his face. He doesn’t know what the man is trying to do, he just knows that he can’t let him do it. They struggle for a moment before the man gets a good grip on Marcus’s wrists, and holds them out of the way long enough to deliver a shocking blow to Marcus’s face with the back of his hand. The boy’s head snaps to the side with the force of it. It dazes him.

Marcus blinks, groaning softly as a cloth is pressed over his nose and mouth. The last thing he’s aware of is a sweet scent that at once feels both familiar and foreign. It’s something like a mix between chlorine and red wine, he thinks. His eyes grow too heavy, and he falls asleep.

~~~~~

Shit, Marcus thinks as he wakes up, I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night.

His head is killing him, and he can’t even remember the details of the previous evening, so he knows it must have been wild. Jake must’ve convinced him to come out.

Wait.

He did talk to Jake last night, but it was on the phone, wasn’t it? He called him about something.

Marcus rubs his eyes and finally opens them. Then it all hits him. The store. The man. The window. The phone call. The struggle.

Panic sets in as he realizes that he is not in his room. He is not in his bed as he had assumed when he first woke up. As he squints in the dark, he can see that the room he is in is rather small and made up entirely of concrete, with only a single metallic door on the far wall. The “bed” he is on is nothing more than a dirty mattress. His hands are shackled to a chain, which tethers him to the wall and gives him almost no slack to be able to move.

He’s trapped. The man took him. Why? What the fuck is happening?

The door opens suddenly and the shock of the light sends daggers into his eyes. He shields them as best he can in his shoulder.

When he is finally able to squint back at the person who just entered, he realizes that it’s him. The man is tall and buff, and he has his arms crossed over his chest. Marcus can really only see his silhouette, and it bothers him that he can’t see his face. He can’t see those dark eyes, can’t see what they’re intending.

“It’s so nice to see you awake,” The man says. His voice is low, but not quite as low as Marcus had expected. “Does your head hurt?”

After a moment of hesitation, Marcus nods uncertainly. As his eyes adjust to the light, he sees the man smile, nodding his head as well. It disconcerts Marcus and he shifts slightly on the mattress.

“You did very well, much better than I was expecting,” The man says as he walks forward casually. He notices the look of confusion on Marcus’s face and smiles again. “Last night. Yes, you struggled a bit, but I enjoyed that. It was just enough to be exciting. And you calmed right down when I hit you.” The man crouches down in front of Marcus, and reaches out to press on the bruise caused by his hand the night before.

Marcus twists, pulling his face away as much as possible. “You drugged me!” he defends. It made his stomach twist to hear the man say that he “calmed right down,” as if it was a conscious decision.

The man ignores his statement, his dark eyes studying the boy’s face intently. “Did your father used to hit you?” He suddenly asks.

Marcus’s eyebrows furrow. The man just chuckles.

“I think you are going to be one of my most entertaining projects yet,” he muses, standing up.

“Projects?” Marcus is disturbed by the word. The man looks at him for a moment, smiling slightly, but he says nothing. It becomes too much. “What do you want from me? Why did you do this?” Marcus bursts. “Money? I have none. Neither does my family, if that’s what you’re hoping. You saw my apartment, I have nothing. I think you must have the wrong person.” he surprises himself with how much he’s able to get out before he becomes too nervous again.

He is surprised further by the man letting out a hearty laugh. “Yes, I suppose I do have the wrong person, in a way. And yet, in another way, I don’t.” Marcus must look confused again. “Ah, well, I suppose before this really gets started I can give you some answers. It’ll be better, really. This did, in fact, start out being about money. You see, an acquaintance of mine is also an acquaintance of a friend of yours, Jacob Settler. He lives in your building.”

Marcus’s eyes go wide. Jake? What does he have to do with this?

“Your friend Jacob owes my acquaintance quite a bit of money. I’m blurry on the details, but it seems he borrowed money for surgery for his sister, or something of that nature.”

Jake did tell him about having a sister who had been sick, but Marcus thought that was years ago.

“Well, the arrangement was that dear Jacob would pay my acquaintance back with interest. No documents were signed, of course. My acquaintance... well, let’s just say not everything he does is above table. Obviously.” On that word, he grins widely. It makes Marcus uncomfortable again.

“When the time came for Jacob to pay up, he was nowhere to be found. He’d skipped town, and his family had gone as well. Well, as you can imagine, this made my acquaintance very distressed. He had trusted Jacob, he had been nothing but gracious to him, and what did he get in return? He got stabbed in the back. So, he contacted me. You see, I am a man of many hats, but my primary occupation is that for a reasonable fee, I will track down those who have stabbed my clients in the back and... well... stab them back,” he chuckles. “If at all possible, I get the payment my clients are due, and if not, I send a message that will not be easily forgotten.” He pauses, again simply staring at Marcus.

“I don’t understand,” Marcus finally says. “What does this have to do with me?”

The corners of the man’s lips quirk. “Absolutely nothing. I tracked down your friend easily, he is not really very skilled in the art of evasion. I’m surprised my acquaintance couldn’t find him on his own, but that’s neither here nor there. I haven’t followed through with my task quite yet because as I began to observe Jacob, I encountered something unexpected that I wanted to be able to take my time with. You.” A sickening chill settles in Marcus’s stomach as the man speaks. “Something you should know about me is that I tend to focus too much on my work. I told you I have many different hats, and that tends to mean that I am always working on something, pouring my all into it, and absolutely draining myself. I enjoy my work, but it does take a toll. There is one thing that I do that is totally for myself. A sort of hobby. A release, if you will. That is my projects. I don’t recall when I first realized my fascination with pushing creatures to their physical and emotional limits, nor my knack for it. It absolutely thrills me. There is always something new to be learned from each person and creature I study, because each one is so different. You are different, Marcus. You mystify me. On the outside, forgive me, you look very unassuming. Very sweet. You’re weaker than most young men your age, and you know it. Physically, it shouldn’t be too difficult for me to break you. But inside you have this drive—this passion to fight for a better life for yourself, not according to other people’s standards, but your own. It’s why you dropped out of school last year. Not because you were too lazy or too stupid. You were doing very well. It was because you decided that it wasn’t what you wanted. It wasn’t what would make your life the best that you thought it could be.”

Marcus is openly shocked. His eyes are wide, shining with an excess of moisture. His lips are slightly parted. This man is absolutely horrifying. And he knows absolutely everything about Marcus.

“I’ve been observing you for quite some time, Marcus. I’ve seen how you interact with the world around you. You never seem to be truly phased by any stumbling blocks in your path. What you lack in physical strength, you make up for in strength of spirit. Others come to you for support and guidance, and you readily give it, never seeming to waiver.” He crouches down in front of Marcus and reaches out to him again, taking the boy’s face between his hands almost tenderly. This time, Marcus is too shocked to move away. When the man speaks again, it is almost a whisper. “It’s important that you know that there is absolutely nothing that can stop what is about to happen to you. I’m going to see just how long it takes for you to be totally destroyed, to become totally malleable in my hands. And I really think I’m going to enjoy it.”

#whump #whump drabble #my writing #creepy whumper #I’m finally posting an actual drabble eeeeee #this literally came out of nowhere #i honestly dont know #my ocs #stalking #kidnapping #home invasion

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saywhatjessie · 4 years

Text

forgot all prayers (of joining you)

15x08 coda, 2.2k (Ao3)

The portal was only going to stay open for twelve hours.

There was no time for this.

Nothing mattered, not the feelings that came back to Dean – fear, relief, yearning (always the yearning) – not the logistics of how the fuck they were supposed to find some obscure fucking flower in all of purgatory. Not the anxiety or hope of seeing Benny again. Not even leaving Sammy a note.

There was no time for this.

He left Sammy a note anyway when he couldn’t get him on the phone:

Gone to Purgatory with Cas to find a flower for the spell Michael gave us. Don’t touch the portal. Or my beer.

-Dean

Sam was probably fine. He had Eileen to take care of him and he had her to take care of. They could entertain themselves until he and Cas got back.

They weren’t being paired off like animals on the ark. That was a weird thing for Dean to think.

There was no time for this.

Dean and Cas stepped through the portal, close but not touching. Not even a casual brush of sleeves or Dean putting a hand on Cas’s shoulder to steady him. Dean’s hand flexed while he fought the impulse. He wasn’t allowed to do that right now. Not that he wanted to – he wasn’t thinking about it. It was just different than what he was used to.

Like Cas healing Dean without touching him. Dean hadn’t thought he’d associated being healed with the warm and calloused pressure of Cas’s hand until it wasn’t there. His skin stitched closed but it felt like something was missing. Like he wasn’t actually healed. Not really.

There was no time for this, goddammit.

Benny was waiting for them on the other side of the portal.

“Thought this might be you, brother,” he said, devilish smile half quirked on his face, his impromptu purgatory weapon slung over his shoulder. “Welcome back to my humble abode.”

Dean couldn’t help it: he smiled. He reached for Benny, bringing him into a hug. Benny laughed into his shoulder, his own hands coming up to clap Dean on the back. He smelled to Dean like dirt and sweat and monster blood. Which, of course, meant he smelled a lot like Benny and even more like freedom.

He pulled away and Benny clapped him again on the shoulder before turning to Cas. He didn’t extend a hug or even a hand but he did nod. “Castiel. Glad to see y’all found your way back to each other.”

The way that was phrased made Dean go slightly hot and slightly itchy. Benny saw them better than most, having seen them in Purgatory. He’d seen Dean frantic with worry for Cas, praying and searching for Cas for an entire year. He’d seen them by that river.

But they didn’t have time for this.

“Sorry to say, Benny,” he started. “But this isn’t a personal call.”

“Wouldn’t think it was,” Benny said, his cajun drawl really very comforting. “Not that I don’t love having y’all here but purgatory doesn’t really love having y’all here. A beacon went up as soon as that portal opened” He gestured at the portal and above but Dean didn’t see any kind of beacon. Maybe it was just for monsters. “I got em all before you could come through and I’ve been guardin’ it for ya.”

Dean couldn’t help but grin again. “Kind of you.”

“Ain’t no thing,” he answered back, casually. “Just let me know what you need.”

“Just,” Cas said, speaking for the first time and looking warily at the portal. “Maybe a bit farther from here.”

Dean nodded, looking away when Cas turned to look back at him. Benny looked between them with narrowed eyes.

Dean clapped his hands together to punctuate the moment. “Let’s walk and talk.”

Dean told Benny about the situation upstairs. Well, was Purgatory downstairs from Earth? Sideways? Whichever. He gave him the news on the ground.

Benny nodded along, grunting in confirmation at various points, and then, when Dean was done, Benny gestured between Dean and Cas. “So what’s the deal with this?”

“ Nothing ,” Dean said, maybe a bit more exasperatedly than he needed to. But he was tired of the questions: Sammy asked about it, then Rowena called it a ‘tiff’. It was fine. Well, it wasn’t fine, but it wasn’t anyone else’s business. “It’s not important,” he said instead which sounded, if possible, worse. “Let’s just focus on this fucking flower, okay?”

Benny shrugged. “You say so, brother. But I already know where this flower is.”

Dean spun to look at him. “What, really?”

Benn nodded. “Yes, sir. And I’ll get it for you. But you boys,” he gestured between Dean and Cas again. “Are staying here.”

Dean snorted. “What, and let you go off alone? No way.”

“I’ve been alone for a while, now, cher. I know how it works. It’s safer for me to go alone than have you two coming along with me, attracting every monster we pass. Better for you two to stay put.”

Cas started to protest, too. “I don’t know if–”

Benny held up a hand and, amazingly, Cas fell silent. “My house, my rules. We’re far enough from the portal now that you shouldn’t meet too much trouble. At least for long enough for me to get this flower and come back. But if you do–”

“Don’t worry,” Dean interrupted. He pulled out his purgatory blade that he’d been keeping safe in his bedroom at the bunker. “I’ve got us covered.”

Benny grinned. “That’s my boy! Now you two sit tight.” His smile turned more into a smirk. “Maybe you can work out whatever’s wrong between ya. Lord knows being back in the place where we searched for his feathered ass for an entire year should help.” He looked meaningfully at Dean until Dean’s ears turned red. Then he winked. “Back in a shake.”

He trotted off, whistling as he went, and leaving Dean and Cas standing together, avoiding eye contact, and unsure where to go from here.

Dean cleared his throat. “Look, man, if we’re just waiting around, we don’t both need to be here.”

“I’m not going to leave you here at the mercy of every monster in spitting distance by yourself,” Cas answered, firmly, but not looking at Dean. “But you’re right, we don’t both need to–”

“I’m not leaving you either, pal.”

Neither of them knew what to say after that.

Dean sighed, heading for the nearest tree and plopping down against it. He hadn’t brought a flask – hadn’t thought he’d needed one – so he pulled out his blade and started sharpening it against a rock, just for something to do.

Dean watched in his peripheral vision as Cas hesitated before making his way over to Dean’s tree and sitting down next to him, back to the bark, close enough to help defend him but not close enough to touch.

So close and yet so far. Dean hated that expression.

There was time for this now. Nothing but time. Dean could think about this. He could remember being in purgatory the last time and being able to focus on nothing but finding Cas, getting to Cas, being with Cas. Even before he knew there was a way out, Cas was his priority. If he was going to spend the rest of forever in purgatory, he’d be damned if he couldn’t do it with Cas at his side.

But Cas was at his side now. But not totally. Not all the way. Not like they’d been.

But Purgatory had done a lot to fix what was broken in them before. Maybe Benny was right: it could do that now.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come back,” Dean said, eyes fixed on his blade. “You sounded like you were serious about moving on.”

“I was,” Cas answered, voice gravelly. No nonsense. “When I said that, I had no intention of ever coming back.” His voice was flat and inflectionless, sounding like it had when Dean had first met him in that barn all those years ago. That didn’t make it hurt any less. “Things change.”

Dean nodded. Things change . Like Chuck comes back and Lilith comes back and the world is ending again. The world is always ending. They’ve never been allowed to just be.

Except here.

“I was surprised to see you, is all,” Dean continued. “When I got back from my hunt.”

“Your hunt,” Cas repeated. No inflection. No curiosity. Just affirming Dean had been on a hunt.

“It wasn’t a fun one,” Dean said, not knowing where he was going but needing to say it. “Ran into an old friend.”

Cas grunted.

“I say friend,” Dean continued, voice strained. “He was a little different than that. He was a hunter. Dad loved him: best fighter he’d ever seen. Lee.” Dean swallowed. “I had to kill him.”

The silence hung on those words. Dean’s grief. His exhaustion. Dean wasn’t even sure Cas was listening.

But then Cas spoke, softer than he’d been before. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean let out a gasp, half laugh, half broken sob. “Yeah.”

Dean had forgotten how real and close emotions were when he was here. When he was this close to Cas. When there was nothing between them but time.

He wasn’t saying any of this right. His words weren’t working. He couldn’t make his mouth cooperate.

But maybe…

I loved him . Dean thought. But not like a thought for himself. A thought for Cas. He prayed and the prayer was the words Dean couldn’t say. I loved him and that scared me. And I resented him because he was a better son for my dad than I was and I hated him because he loved me back and I didn’t know what to do with that. And I hate him now because he hurt me. He made me feel like we could be okay, that everything could be okay. That I could leave the life and open a bar and sing rock songs in front of a crowd of people who will cheer for me. That they could cheer for me and this other guy being together and being happy. He made me want these things and think I could have these things and then he made me kill him. And I can’t have those things. And I don’t know how to deal with that.

Dean didn’t know if this was working. He didn’t know if this would be enough of a prayer for Cas to hear him. But he couldn’t stop.

It hurt. I was so knocked down, and then I saw you, back at the bunker. I saw you came back home. And I didn’t know what to do with that either. Because I am so goddamn lucky to have you in my life, Cas. I’m so happy and lucky that you’ve put up with me for so long. When you told me you were done, I was expecting it. I’ve been waiting for you to be done with me for years. Because I don’t deserve you.

Dean swallowed, tears welling up in his eyes. He felt weak and cowardly not being able to say these things out loud. Even now after everything. Even here, in purgatory, which was kind of like their place. Cas deserved to hear them out loud.

Dean took a deep breath, leaning his head back against the tree and closing his eyes, his blade gripped loosely in his lap, forgotten.

There is no excuse for what an asshole I’ve been to you. Telling you I was pushing you away so I had a reason when you finally left isn’t enough. Telling you I had to keep you at arms distance because I was afraid what would happen if I got too close isn’t enough. I took out my grief for mom and my anger at Chuck on you and you didn’t deserve that. You deserve so much better – better than me, better than this garbage world, better than any of it.

But I love you too, Cas. And you deserve to know that. Not just when one of us is dying. Not just when I tell you we’re family. But for real. Owning a bar together real.

I’m sorry for never telling you that. I’m sorry I can’t say it out loud now.

I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I’m sorry I’ve never treated you like you deserve.

I’m sorry I’ve pushed you away. I’m sorry I couldn’t let you go.

I’m sorry you’ve shown time and time again that you’ll give anything for me and I haven’t shown you the same.

I’m sorry about Jack. I’m sorry about the angels. I’m sorry about your grace. I’m sorry about God.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry

Dean’s thoughts were interrupted by Cas’s hand moving on his, turning his palm face up so he could hold it in his.

“I’m sorry.” Dean said, his voice a grunted whisper.

Cas didn’t say ‘I know’ or ‘It’s okay’.

He didn’t say ‘I forgive you,’ or ‘I love you, too’.

He squeezed Dean’s hand. ‘I hear you’, said with a clasping of fingers rather than a movement of lips.

Dean opened his eyes and turned to look at Cas. Cas, for the first time in months, was looking back.

Dean felt like he could breathe again. He was healed.

They had nothing but time for this.

It was a start.

#s15 #15x08 coda #Jessie writes Destiel fic #Oops I wrote a thing #I have never had the impulse to write a coda before but you know what? It had to be done

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speuradair · 4 years

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Familiar | S.F.

(Photo credit goes to Federico Meuli on DeviantArt, and song inspiration credit goes to Ilomilo by Billie Eilish. I also do not own the character Sal Fisher, nor do I have any association with Portable Moose or the Sally Face series.)

This was requested by @mitch-that-bitch ! The plot’s a little messy and way longer than I initially intended it to be because I got pretty carried away with it. What can I say? I’m a sucker for Sal Fisher.

Content Warning- soft yandere au, death mention, angst, Sally Face ep 4 spoilers

“Where did you go?

I should know, but it's cold

And I don't wanna be lonely

So show me the way home

I can't lose another life”

In the ever-changing town of Nockfell, Sal Fisher offered unwavering familiarity. He was consistent and dependable, supportive and assuring, regardless of whatever chaos was ensuing around him. He was more than just the mysterious quiet kid with the creepy mask. While he did carry trauma with him from a young age and know how evil the world could be, he was strong. He carried on, not letting his pain color the way he saw people. Maybe that was what pushed him to look after his friends like he did. Whether it was help with homework or comfort during an anxiety attack, he would always do everything he could to help. He wanted to protect others from pain like his.

It didn’t take long for you to gravitate towards him. You had met him the year he moved to Nockfell, and you were fast friends. He was the type to make you feel accepted and safe, no matter how long you’d been friends. It felt like you’d always known him, and talking with him never felt tiring like it always had.

Hanging out with him everyday quickly became your new normal. Sometimes it was with the others and sometimes it was just the two of you, but he was always there and you were always together. He was always there. To be honest, you weren’t really surprised when you found yourself falling for him. He had become such a vital part of your routine, it just seemed fitting to want more of him. Luckily for you, Sal was feeling the same way. You were a safe place for him too. Nights at your apartment gave him a chance to get away from the suffocating memories and thoughts that plagued him when he was on his own. Your unconditional support was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He wanted more than just your friendship; he wanted to be the one you turned to when you felt lost, the one you knew would make you feel better no matter what was wrong. He longed to be your sanctuary, like you were his. As long as he had you and you him, he knew things would be okay.

Things changed slightly when he asked you to be his, but in the best possible way. Days listening to music while sitting on the floor became more intimate times of you humming along to the stereo while he held you close to his chest. Lonely texts sent late at night became sneaking out to the roof together for deep talks under the stars. Friends became lovers. Things had changed between you two, but he was still always the same rational Sal.

That’s why it hit so hard when he snapped.

In just a matter of hours, everything had changed. There weren’t going to be any more mid-morning coffee dates at the cafe in town or any more dinners with his family. A friend group of eight became two. Days living together at Todd and Neil’s house became nights spent restlessly at different motels in different towns. Fears of insufficiency and failure became fears of suspicion and attack. College students became fugitives. Everything you had come to know in the last four years was gone.

It had been a while since things had felt as calm as they did this morning. The winter sky was just turning from navy blue to a soft orange sunrise, creating an almost watercolor background for the empty trees. It reminded you of the mornings you’d spent with Sal at Wendigo Lake when one of you needed to clear your mind, back when everything was relatively okay. The cold air did its best to chill you, but the two matching take-away cups of coffee in your hands gave off enough warmth to finish your walk back to the motel where Sal waited for you. Maybe things would finally start to calm down. It did seem like getting a good bit of distance between you and Nockfell had almost paused things, like maybe the Nockfell Police were hesitant to get other, non-corrupt police forces involved. Maybe the two of you could actually find somewhere to settle down again soon.

You unlocked the door with your key card, carefully juggling both coffees between your one arm and your chest, and scooted through it.

“Hey,” you exhaled, quickly placing your drinks on the small table next to the door before you could spill them. Sal hadn’t moved from where he sat when you left almost an hour ago, though he was now hunched over a bit, resting his elbows on his knees. You could already tell by his expression that he was in one of those moods again.

“Where were you?” The warmth that had enveloped you when you came in had seemed to drain from the room as he spoke. You knew where this was going.

Despite the agitation you felt from his accusatory tone, you spoke softly and carefully. You’d been through this same fight so many times in the past few months, you knew there was no use in arguing. “I was just getting the coffees, I had to go to the place two streets over. The one right here is closed today apparently.”

He paused for a moment, presumably scanning what you’d just told him for any discrepancy. “You didn’t call to tell me?” It was less of a question and more of subtle scolding.

He’d always been protective of you, wanting to make sure you were safe and that no one was messing with you, but lately, it was starting to become a bit intense. Was it really abnormal though? You weren’t sure honestly. What was normal anymore? Running from a corrupt town run by a cult isn’t normal. Being haunted by a myriad of dead friends isn’t normal. Nothing was normal.

“I left my phone on accident.” One of your fingers pointed towards the bedside table where your phone was, indeed, still plugged into the charger from last night. “I forgot I took it out of my coat to charge it. I thought you’d prefer that I just go and come back quickly instead of coming back just for a minute and then leaving again.”

You had still been glancing over at your phone across the room, but you could’ve sworn you saw him roll his eyes. “You thought I’d prefer to have you gone for an hour without having anyway of contacting you?”

“I just thought that it’d be easier, and since things are quieting down-”

“I don’t care what you thought,” He cut you off before you could finish. “What I care about is that you went out there in some town we don’t know without me for an hour.” He had stood up, now moving closer to where you stood, still right by the door. He wasn’t tall, but that didn’t stop him from being genuinely intimidating when he wanted to be. Whether he was being intentional or not this time you weren’t sure, but he was doing a good job either way. Instinctively, you stepped back a bit.

“What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back in two, even three hours? Just be okay with it because you forgot your phone? What if you’d gotten hurt?! What was I supposed to do then?” There was a sharp edge in his voice, one that if you didn’t know better, you might mistake for genuine malice.

You tried to give a firm response and explain that it wasn’t that big of a deal, but you couldn’t get the words out. You weren’t even sure why this made you so nervous, honestly. He’d never hit you, or hurt you at all really, but there was something inherently scary about him when he got like this.

“Sal, I..” You finally found your voice, though the words were nowhere near as strong and unbothered as you’d hoped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal…”

Your words failed again when his calloused hands came to cup your face, cold and trembling. You couldn’t look away from him now, your gaze locked onto his features as he stood mere inches in front of you. His expression was pained, his jaw visibly clenched as he tried to deal with the mess of intense emotions coursing through him. His eyes were a bit sunken in, outlined in dark circles and slightly obscured by his now grown out hair, and the scars on his face seemed puffier than usual. Though, despite how worn down he looked, he was still as handsome as ever to you. He’d long stopped wearing his prosthetic around you and somehow, even in the middle of an argument like this, seeing him without made everything between the two of you feel all the more intimate.

“What was I supposed to do if you got hurt?” He repeated, though his voice was quieter this time. “I can’t lose another person. Especially not you.”

Any plans you had of trying to push your point had fizzled away with his touch. Your expression softened upon hearing the pain in his voice. All you gave in reply was a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t go out without me again, especially if you can’t remember your phone.”

When you nodded gently, obediently, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest. Your face instinctively moved to bury itself in his neck, searching for the comfort of his familiar scent and warmth. It was the only thing that hadn’t changed. That’s when the gravity of the situation hit you. Closing your eyes, you could almost convince yourself that you were back in his room at Addison Apartments, where nothing had changed and you were still the naive sixteen year olds that you were when you started dating. You wished it were true. You wished you could just open your eyes and be back in 1992, before you knew about the cult, before the residents of Addison Apartment were tainted by the darkness, before Sal had done what he had done. Maybe if you kept your eyes closed and wished, begged, hard enough, it would be true..

“Hey,” Sal’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He sounded softer now, without a hint of the anger he had a few minutes ago. “Don’t cry, I’ve got you. It’s okay now.”

Were you crying? You hadn’t noticed.

“It’s okay now.” He paused, “Did someone bother you while you were out? Shit, I should’ve asked that first. If someone messed with you-”

“No.” Now it was your turn to interrupt. “No, I just.. I just don’t feel well. Tired, I guess.”

He pulled away slightly, allowing himself enough room to study your features. After a moment he brushed the stray tears away with the pad of his thumb. “I shouldn’t have let you go out by yourself...” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. “We should lay down then. Let me take care of you.”

Nodding your acceptance, he grabbed your hand before laying down, immediately pulling you into his chest again. In this quiet room, wrapped in his warm embrace and surrounded by his familiar scent, you felt almost detached again. It didn’t exactly feel like home, but it felt sort of safe again. Things were different- unfathomably different- but Sal was almost the same person as he was those years ago. He was still dependable, supportive, and assuring, despite the absolute dumpster fire your lives had become in the past six months. Maybe he was right. Maybe what you needed was to let him take care of you.

#sal fisher #sally face #x reader #imagine #fic #fanfic #yandere #requested #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher imagine #drabble #Ilomilo #raes-ramblings #requests #writer

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

Text

The Swamp Singer (Frog Fae)

A 2000 word commission for @envy-kitty, the second place prize for the 2000 follower giveaway! A young herbalist hears singing from the swamp near her home, where she often gathers ingredients for her remedies, and decided to befriend the singer. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Though I am a frog, And I live in a bog, I lament that I’m alone.

I sing and I sing, Hoping it might bring A friend to call my own.

You heard this song every evening. The voice was a coarse and croaky baritone, but strangely not unpleasant, and you wondered if it really was a frog singing its sad song.

You didn’t live in the swamp, but you were close. You were an herbalist and owned the apothecary of the nearby village, and a lot of your stock came from the swamp, so you were in and out of that place rather often.

It had been you, at first, to sing. As you were gathering ingredients for a tincture, you were humming an old lullaby to yourself as you gathered, not noticing at first that there was a second voice harmonizing with you. Just the knowledge that you weren’t alone was enough to startle you, and in what was considerably not your finest moment, you shrieked and dropped all of your things, running back toward your cottage as fast as your feet could carry you.

Though, the next morning, you found your basket, gloves, and ingredients sitting on your front doorstep, plus all the items on your list you’d yet to gather when you made your wild flight from the swamp. There was also a a small bundle of flowers tied neatly with flaxen fibers. You picked them up carefully and sniffed the sweet scent.

Perhaps you’d been too hasty the day before. There was no law against strolling in the swamp the same day as someone else, or joining someone in song. That evening was the first time you heard the sad refrain and felt a little guilty. Perhaps… perhaps being friends wasn’t out of the question. At the very least, you should apologize for being so abrupt and rude in your exit.

You made your medicines and tinctures, salves and poultices, stocking your store with the newly made remedies. You were good at what you did, thanks to your family’s tutelage, and within days you were sold out again, which meant another trek into the swamp. You tried to put it off as long as you could, a little out of fear and a little out of shame, but your stockroom was nearly empty by this point and it couldn’t be delayed any longer. Gathering your courage, you lists, and your basket, you headed out.

This time, you heard the humming first, but it was soft and far away, far enough away that you didn’t react as rashly as you had a few days before. The song was unfamiliar to you but pretty, in a strange way. During the bridge, you decided to speak up.

“Stranger,” You called, not shouting but loudly enough to be heard. “Why do you spend your time singing in the swamp?”

“Why don’t you sing along with me?” The voice responded shyly.

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I would, Stranger, but I’m afraid I don’t know that song.”

It didn’t speak again while you continued your picking and collecting, though you did catch a soft hum a few times. When you had finished your work in the bog, you said “goodbye” to the distance as you left. A returning croak answered you.

If you were to be honest, you actually felt much safer in the swamp afterward, especially when you heard his rough humming nearby. There were aggressive or carnivorous animals in the swamp, and working alone could be dangerous.

In fact, there was a time or two that you heard a distant angry creature, to be silenced a moment later to be followed by a friendly croaking, reassuring you that all was safe, and you would smile.

You only needed to go into the swamp once a week, and you heard their humming every time, though sometimes it would sing out lyrics to the songs you heard.

“Why do you always sing, my friend?” You asked again.

“In hopes that you would sing along with me,” The voice responded.

You laughed. “I would, friend, but I don’t know that song.”

“I can teach you, if you like,” The voice ventured carefully.

“I would like that,” You replied. “But I only come out to the swamp every so often.”

“And I will be here when you do,” They said. “I will always be here to sing for you.”

“And it will be my pleasure to listen,” You replied as you made your way home.

You began to notice patterns. Certain songs would bring about gentle rains, and others would pull up mist around the bog. Others still would part the clouds and clear the swamp, making it perfect for picking. You even realized at one point that, unless there was a dire need for rain, the cycle of the weather seemed to be centered around your schedule for collecting ingredients. In fact, it always had. You wondered how long they had lived in the swamp, and if they were alone. If so, how long had they been alone?

After more than a month, you realized you’d yet to learn your swamp friend’s name. So, one day, you went out with a picnic and sat on the small pier that was over the water that sometimes you’d fish off of, and called out, “Are you there, friend?”

They answered immediately. “I am always here.”

“It occurs to me that we’ve been talking all this time, but I don’t know much about you,” You said. “What’s your name, if you please?”

“Lilyfoot,” the voice replied. “What is yours.”

You told them. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

“A boy. I think,” He said.

“You think?”

“Well, our kind don’t think in those terms, really.”

“Your kind?”

“Fae creatures.”

Fae? You sat up sharply, beginning to feel a little nervous. “You don’t plan to spirit me away to the Otherworld, do you?”

You heard a gentle laugh. “Goodness no. It’s terribly boring there. I like it better here. With you.”

You flushed a little. “Why don’t you ever show yourself?”

There was a small silence. “…I’m not as pretty as you.”

“I don’t mind that,” You replied.

“I do,” Lilyfoot said. “I do not wish to frighten you.”

“You wouldn’t frighten me,” You assured him.

“You don’t know that,” He said mournfully. “I scared you by singing. I didn’t mean to, I just liked your song.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry about that. You just startled me, is all. I’ve been coming into the swamp for years now and I never heard another person. How long have you lived here?”

“Not long,” They admitted. “I was ousted from my old home by a naga, so I came here. There were no hostile entities to eject me, but it was when I heard singing that I decided to stay. It was so nice to hear.”

“You stayed because of me?” You asked, surprised.

“You have a lovely voice. Mine is not so nice, but I liked singing with you.”

“Your voice is… unique,” You said.

You heard the gentle laugh again. “That’s a kind way of saying I sound like a sick goat baying for food.”

“Not at all!” You said. “Your voice is different, but it’s not bad. In fact, I think we sound very good together.”

“Do you?” He said, his voice brightening.

“I do,” You affirmed.

“I’m glad I stayed here,” Lilyfoot said, his form ever hidden in the mist of the swamp. “It’s nice to have a friend.”

“I agree,” You said, throwing an apple in the direction of the voice. You heard it impact with something wet, and then a crunching sound. “Since I took over for my parents, I’ve been too busy to have many friends. They’re all getting married and having babies and don’t really understand why I’d rather work with toadstools and moss.”

“You do so much good, though,” Lilyfoot said around a mouthful of apple. “Your tinctures and salves help people. That’s a wonderful way to spend a life.”

“Thank you! I think so, too,” You replied.

As time passed, you felt comfortable delving deeper into the swamp, deeper than you’d ever gone before, reassured by Lilyfoot’s presence. He talked and sang, keeping you company, though he still refused to show himself, always maintaining a distance that obscured himself.

He’d teach you little bits of songs he knew, and you’d teach him songs you knew, and before long, the two of you were singing together as if it were second nature.

Perhaps you got complacent. Perhaps his presence had blinded you to the dangers of the swamp, because when the alligator flashed around and caught your leg in it’s jaws, you were taken completely by surprise.

You screamed in pain and terror, and from your left side, you heard a deafening roar as a large green blur streaked past you, slamming into the alligator with the solid weight of it’s body. The green blue coalesced into a long, skinny green man with a largish head and long dragonfly wings on his back. Wearing little more than a loincloth, he began fighting with the alligator, pressing his large thumbs into the alligator’s eyes. The alligator let go immediately with a angry growl and slapped the water with its tail as it shook its head and swam off.

You were crying from the pain, but tried to check the wounds on your leg as best as you could in the low light. There were at least seven puncture wounds that were bleeding freely. You needed to get back to the shop and get some witch’s hazel on it before an infection set in.

“I’m so sorry!” Lilyfoot said, crouching with his back to you, so you couldn’t see his face. “I’m so sorry! Please forgive me! I was so focused on singing that I forgot to listen for threats! I’m sorry!”

“Lilyfoot!” You shouted over his profuse apologizing, putting a hand on his shoulder. He was wet, but not slimy. “Please. Look at me.”

“I can’t,” He said, putting his webbed hands over his face.

“I need your help getting home,” You said softly. “I can’t walk on my own with these injuries. Please, will you help me?”

He sighed and pulled his hands away from his face, but he didn’t turn around. “You promise you won’t be afraid?” His wings were folded, but they shuddered now and then anxiously.

“I promise, Lilyfoot. You’re my friend. I couldn’t never be frightened of you. You surely can’t be as frightening as an alligator.”

He huffed a laugh and, while still crouched, slowly turned around.

His belly was white, but his face was the same color as the rest of his body, sort of a lime green. He was bald and had no earlobes. His eyes were large and his mouth was wide. He did look much like a frog that had taken on human form, though the wings definitely gave away his fae heritage.

“There now,” You said with a smile. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

He ducked his head and his lips stretched in a wide, wide smile. “I shouldn’t have been so suspicious. You’re a true friend. I should have known you’d never have hated me.”

“Never,” You agreed. “Can you help me get home?”

He nodded and picked you up effortlessly. “Of course.”

“Will you sing to me?”

He chuckled as he walked you back to your cottage. “Only if you’ll sing along with me.”

“Of course,” You replied, putting an arm around his neck and snugging into his chest. “We always sound the best when we sing together.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

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#Exophilia #Envy-Kitty #Fae #Fae Boyfriend #Interspecies Romance

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maidenof-thesea · 4 years

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Snakes and Butterflies | Preface

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Soulmate Au!, Fluff, Angst, Smut (Maybe, still debating)

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: MC briefly mentions self harm but she recovers.

Note: So this is my first series, I sort of dabbled in writing when I was younger. so I’m no expert but feedback is appreciated. I always enjoyed reading fan-fictions and always wanted to try it myself. Hope you like it!

"So your room will be on the 3rd floor, facing the parking lot behind this building" I say to the couple in front of me as I hand them the keys to their hotel room. When they both reach for the keys I see their soulmate marks both matching arrows. I look up and feel my fake customer smile come on my face as I met their gaze. "Elevator is on the first hallway to your right as soon as you leave out the door. Dial zero if you have any questions." As soon as the couple is out of hearing range, I let out a sigh that Fernando, the security guard, hears.

"It's almost time till you get off," He says. "I have 7 more hours to go.."

"Oh you’re right" I say, as I look at the time on my phone. "Time to go home to the love of my life: my Yuki."

"Y/n, you need to go out and have fun like other girls your age," He says laughing and rubbing his beer pot belly. "You never know, you might just meet the love of your life...which would be nice in times like these.."

"Times like what?" I say counting out my last cash drop of my shift. "Did you see something on Facebook again? I told you so many times--"

"I saw this on the local news!" He says with red blotching his cheeks. "Young girls! Young girls around your age getting abducted! They turn up later on having no memory only that their Soulmate marks are gone!"

"Let me guess," I say printing out my paperwork and logging out of the system so that I could wait for my relief to come running through the door late again. "All these girls had a bunch to drink while having this so called 'fun' you say and this happened to them."

He stammers for words and in comes running my coworker who happens to work the graveyard shift. I saluted her and I gestured for her to hurry up and clock in since guests are pulling in the parking lot. She smiles and hurries to start the beginning of her shift, while Fernando walks me to my car.

"Okay," He starts when we reach my car. "Perhaps not now but later when this whole ordeal dies down." I hum in response ready to get in my car as I unlock it, but he stops my door from opening.

"I just worry about you, that's all y/n. Most girls either rebel or try very hard to find the one that matches their Mark but you.. you hide behind those sweaters and let no one near you, I've never even seen your Mark-"

“Fernando," I say grasping his shoulder. "There's no need to worry, I'm just letting fate decide for me. We've been blessed with this, surely fate means for me to come across them at some point in my life." I feel my other hand clench at the word 'blessed'. Surely to me it was a curse. I force myself to smile and I see that it works, he's convinced. "I just want time for myself. I want to grow into a person that feels like she's lived her life and is willing to open up and welcome someone." That wasn't a lie, that was genuine and I felt my voice wavering with emotion. Emotion I didn't know I still had. Fernando pats my hand and opens my door. I roll down the window after starting the ignition. I smile as I hear his radio go off, my coworker stating she needs him upfront.

"Alright then miss," he says smiling. "I will let you go now and get some sleep!" I wave at him, as I reverse out and start the short drive home. My smile fading off my face as I clenched the steering wheel, willing myself to force unwanted emotions and memories away and drove the short distance to my home.

The reason I decided to move out here to one of the beach cities was to escape. I found solitude in the sounds of the waves. My friend Jennie had recommended me to stay in this house alongside her family’s private beach, once I had told her my plans of moving out. She told me the rent would be really cheap which was impossible to believe but she told me that her family was planning on making it an airbnb during the summer and that they needed someone to manage it. She offered a wage but of course I declined, I just told her to hire someone to clean and I’ll manage the rest.

It had been a year since then and now summer was just peaking over the horizon again and I knew I was gonna have to take time off to get everything situated. As I got through my door, my beloved Yuki, my tonkinese cat greets me with her purring and rubbing around my ankles.

“Hello my precious, how was your night?”

She purrs and licks my petting hand. I go to take off my coat and shower before bed. As I strip my work clothes, my arms catch my glance and from the conversation from earlier, I am reminded just how much of a freak I am. Where there should have been a Mark, lied just my skin. Scarred skin, to be exact, scars that matched my finger nails.

Rather than face the questions and pity in people’s faces, I rather hide. Hide just how pitiful my life has been. As the warmth of the water envelops me, I don’t feel the need to hide, at least not here in my own home, well that is till the summer. I force the pity I have for myself away and hum a tune. After that I fed Yuki a late night snack and turned on the TV to watch some Netflix. Just then my phone dinged and I saw a message from my mother.

Mom[10:47 pm]: Have you seen this? Link: ww.foxnews.com/missingMarks

I clicked on the link and apparently the news I thought was just local made national news.

“Today in a small town in southern California, tragedy has struck for several young adolescents who were out enjoying their youth when their very futures may very well change forever.” I rolled my eyes at that. They’ll live. “These women were abducted and their Soulmate marks stripped from their arms. All of them have no recollection of their whereabouts in the last 14 hours. Here’s Nancy with one of the victims.”

The clip changes to a girl with her eyes blurred out but it was evident that she was crying as she kept wiping her face.

“I swear I just needed some air, I stepped out for a bit and I woke up at some park and this excruciating pain in my arm… my Mark was gone, almost as if it was burned off! How am I ever-gonna find them?!”

Once again I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes, although a part of me was reminded of my teenage years but now older me, thrives in independence. My phone dings again, indicating another message from my mother.

Mom[10:52 pm]: They think there’s some Neanderthals out there taking Marks away… is that even possible? I thought they were extinct…

Me[10:52 pm]: I thought that was just a bedtime story??

Mom[10:55 pm]: Seriously? It’s in the history books! Why would you think that?

Me[10: 57 pm]: You know why… I don’t really care for things involving those stupid Marks. Besides I learned that along with basic math, how am I supposed to remember that?

Mom[10:57 pm]: I know sorry. But you should at least know our history!

Me[10:58 pm]: Ok I’ll watch a documentary on it on Netflix right now

Mom[10:59 pm]: You just got off work! Go to sleep!

Me[10:59 pm]: yea yea goodnight <3

“Maybe we should just sleep Yuki?” I say as she jumps on my lap and continues to purr and make herself comfortable before I could even get up. “Oh well guess I’m not moving.”

I grab the remote and start Netflix and about to click on Stranger, a Korean drama that I binged in the night prior but a new planet earth documentary catches my eye. This time instead of endangered species it’s about Neanderthals, an extinct race of human beings.

“Would you look at that?” I say tilting my head in curiosity. “Guess I am gonna learn our history.”

As the documentary starts to play, I get a text from my boss that she needs me off for tomorrow so I could work a full shift the day after and I internally groan but realize I can sleep in tomorrow. The theme song of Planet Earth starts playing and I am reminded of my childhood when I see the photograph of the Neanderthals, they look more ape like than human. I begin to wonder if they really actually looked like that or if they were exaggerated or not. Would they still look like that or would evolution help them adapt among humans now? Assuming that they were still alive…

“Humans and Neanderthals have always had their differences and constantly were at war with each other. Evolution had blessed humans with the abilities to procreate faster by aiding humans to find suitable partners. Each generation of humans was more beautiful than the previous. The Neanderthals, unfortunately were unable to evolve like us human beings and they would rape and pillage humans in order to procreate. Thanks to our advancement in evolution, humans were able to develop better weapons and eradicate the Neanderthals…”

“Okay,” I said rolling my eyes, raising the remote control. “Enough of that genocide bullshit.”

“But what if that’s all a lie?” a man obscured in the video said. On the bottom where typically the name of professors or researchers would be credited, the name ‘John Doe’ was instead. This caused me to raise my eyebrows. This man did not want to be known. Of course what he just said is considered blasphemous. “What if I were to tell you that humans are not the apex predators-that we never were the apex predator? That our ancestors may have won the war but fabricated history for their benefit?”

“That’s quite possible,” I mumbled. “But how could you possibly obtain the evidence to prove that?”

“Of course there is no evidence left to prove that but I have dedicated my entire research into finding the remaining Neanderthals. Our ancestors could never locate the actual origin of the Neanderthals-”

“Seriously? I thought that place was just a myth!” I exclaimed, rousing Yuki from her sleep. With the flick of her tail she hopped off the couch and headed to my bedroom to sleep on my bed. “Sorry baby.”

The documentary went on and on about the possibility that Neanderthals may live among us. That everything we know is a lie, that Neanderthals were the ones who evolved, they were the ones that had Soulmate marks… but there was no evidence to support it.

I turned off the TV when the credits started to roll. “Well another documentary to piss off the republicans.” My eyes started to feel heavy and instead of going to my bed I just pulled the throw blanket over myself and fell asleep.

“Y/n look! Fireflies!” a boy with crescent moon eyes and Cheshire smile came running up to me with cupped hands. On his arm, was a Soulmate mark that wrapped around his entire arm, like a snake. It was the most beautiful I had ever seen. Most marks were abstract symbols but this was the first animal one I had ever seen.

“Can I see, Jimin?” another boy said excitedly running with buck teeth, almost like a bunny’s.

“No I want to show Y/n first!” and the boy called Jimin reached me and opened his hands.

The fireflies floated up the sky and both me and the other boy stared in awe. The other boy proceeded to try and catch the fireflies once more and when I looked back at Jimin, he was already staring at me with a gleam in his eyes. He reached for my hand and when our skin made contact, a shiver went through the both of us. When I looked at our joined hands, I noticed that instead of a snake tail on his wrist, the snake’s body seemed to morph into particles and the particles continued onto my arm and morphed into butterflies..like a puzzle piece.

“Y/N-”

Masterlist

#jimin #bts #jimin x reader #reader insert #soulmate au #soulmate!au #bts soulmate au #my work #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots #bts smut #jimin smut

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