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agustdef · 5 years

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Here & Now - Chapter 14

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Fluff; Chill romance

Word Count: 2,240

Warning: None.

Banner Marker: @dee-ehn

For the twentieth time that afternoon I opened Twitter up and began to type up a post, but halfway through stopped myself and threw the phone to the side. The urge to respond to people being dumbasses was so strong.

"Do I need to take your phone away?" Yoongi asked.

He wasn't looking at me, just typing away in the notes app on his phone. Something about lyrics he needed to get out and not being in the mood to go look for his notebook.

"Maybe."

Without missing a beat or stopping his typing he extended on of his hand out to me. I picked up the phone and was going to place it in his hand, but snatched it back at the last moment.

"Wait, no. I'll just lurk on Instagram. I'm sure making myself hungry looking at food pics will make me forget the antis and the fans defending your virtue against me."

He scoffed, eyes flickering over to me finally. "Defending my what? There is nothing to defend. I'm an adult who can live their life how I please. I'm allowed to whisper to my friends and not automatically be in some secret relationship."

'Tell them that' is what I wanted to say out loud in a very snarky voice, but refrained. Instead, I just went to Instagram and scrolled through the posts. Nothing to piss me off, because I refused to look at the comments under my most recent posts. I'd done that like an idiot the day the news dropped.

And it was so annoying because it wasn't news. It was some "fan" sneaking a high-quality camera into the show and finding the right angle to snap pictures. They'd gotten quite a few, mostly of the boys. Some of Halsey. Some of me talking and laughing with the boys and Halsey. But that hadn't mattered at all, because even though I'd had Joon and Jungkook whisper things to me at different times, it only mattered that Yoongi did. Because goodness forbid we be seen together being comfortable twice in the span of months.

Most didn't care, but the vicious little circle of toxics that always tried to start shit were laying it on thick. And they easily roped in the trolls of who gave a shit about piling onto k-pop drama and not the music itself. Even worse were the newer and naive fans who just listened to what they were told with no fact-checking.

It was annoying and less stressful than I thought a "scandal" would be. Probably because they were stupid rumors and most were telling them to lay off. Most ARMY, other fandoms, and multis seemed to get it.

But I had to admit the racism and comments about my appearance or quality of work were pissing me off. And were the main reason I was ready to go on a rant, but I didn't want to make things crazier because I went on a rampage.

"So...," Joon said as he entered the room.

He'd been sitting on the couch beside me, but then vanished for twenty minutes when he got a phone call. When he left he'd looked stressed, but now he seemed calmer; though the phone was still clutched in his hand.

"What's up?" I asked.

"So, I know you've wanted to rage at the world for the past day and a half. And you are also free to do whatever you please, no matter what anyone says. And that you haven't for our sake, but Bang PDnim said he wouldn't be upset at all if you addressed it. He welcomes it, actually." He spoke so slowly, as if testing the waters, that I'd gotten annoyed halfway through.

For a moment I weighed my options because I'd honestly been more worried about the backlash on them and Bang being upset with me more than them being trash to me. They wouldn't affect my job as a producer at all, they didn't have that power. And if they hate bought my books to do whatever with them it would just be more money towards me getting royalties.

In the end, the energy didn't seem worth it, but then the option to go live on Insta presented itself and a smile formed. "How does a live sound? Haven't done one in a while for my normal few people who care. I know they'll be lurking there."

Joon put the phone back to his hair and asked, after a few seconds he said his goodbyes and hung up.

"Go ahead," he said.

Without a word, I got up and headed to the kitchen, it was where I did most of my lives. Which made me happy that we'd (Hals) had chosen my place to hang out, I didn't want those questions about where I was for the first half an hour as people appeared.

Propping my phone in its usual spot I got the live started and moved off-camera to grab a can of pop from the fridge. When I returned there were about thirty people present and the number was steadily climbing.

"Yeah, I think the last live was like a month ago. Probably something book-related too," I said in response to a question.

A few more minutes ticked by and the number reached several hundred and then I knew it was time.

"Hello, my people. How are you? I hope you're good or not as shitty as you were the day before. Thought I'd do a live because it's overdo and for another reason. Though today won't be music or writing focused, just us talking. And then me going into a monologue at some point."

The chat flooded with responses and asking me how I was. A second later came the first asshole, which didn't surprise me. In fact, I'd expected they'd appear faster than ten minutes in, they were slipping.

"I'm good. Tired, but I'm on a tiny break from all my work. No music to make and ahead of writing-related deadlines. This weekend has been me being forced to relax until things ramp up again next weekend."

Where is the music? It's so quiet. Someone commented.

"Oh, shit you're right. I've been around people all day and can still hear them in another room, so it seems louder to me. Alexa play Always and Forever playlist."

A few seconds later and the sound of Missy Elliot's Lose Control was filling the space.

The number had climbed to the thousands in the blink of an eye and there were more people with k-pop profile pics. Some of them were familiar from other streams, some of them asking me a thousand and one BTS questions. The few were those that were obviously by trash and or trolls; who were the ones I wanted there the most.

What are you working on music wise?

"Well, I'm mostly finishing up projects. I'm going on a half forced, half chosen break for a month. So no new projects as of last week. I'll be finishing up most of my stuff in a week or two and then I'll still have other things, but they aren't as pressing."

But what specifically?

"You know I'm not answering that one. I never do."

There were a few requests for a tiny hint and some all capped ones about if any of those projects were SUGA related stuff.

"Maybe," I said, giving no context to what I was answering.

In my teasing, I hadn't noticed Yoongi until he came in and bumped me to the side with his hip. He took up half the screen and his head blocked me from being able to read the screen at first. I had to lightly shove him to the side.

But even without looking I knew that chat was losing its shit.

"So, you do have a break after all?" He asked in English, his tone accusing.

I rolled my eyes and tried to focus on finding the questions where people weren't excited. His appearance was sending the viewers into numbers I'd never hit before, I should have started the live with him there.

"I never said I didn't have a break coming up. All of you just started scolding me without asking other questions."

WHAT IS YOONGI DOING THERE?!!??!!!!

SHSJSKSKSKA

She said all. Is all of BTS there?

skskskksks what is goign on?

Told you they were dating.

I made a face at the last one, turning to him with a 'what the fuck' face, one he also returned.

Then I turned my attention to the screen. "We aren't dating. We're working together. We're friends. That's it. You all have literally seen pictures with Hals so in my face we're almost kissing and not one dating rumor has appeared. And that would also be false."

"Why didn't we get any dating scandals when we worked together?" Joon asked in Korean off-camera, slowly moving closer.

"Because we obviously radiated big sibling energy," I responded.

Yoongi chuckled beside me, a smirk on his face.

"See, even Yoon agrees."

Joon opened and closed his mouth, probably trying to find a response to that. But then he just huffed. I thought it was over after that, but then he mumbled something.

"I don't give off sibling energy."

From there on it just the three of thus talking about how he does, reassuring him that it's only with certain people and just otherwise talking shit.

"Pay attention to you live people. You have everyone confused and only like 20 people understand what you're saying," Halsey shouted from wherever she was.

We'd gotten so caught up I had forgotten about the live and didn't realize we'd speaking purely in Korean. Turning back to the screen I read the comments that were now zooming by faster than I could read.

what are they saying?

She speaks Korean?

HELLO PAY ATTENTION TO US

Was that Halsey?!??!?!

"Yes, that was Halsey." I turned towards the doorway and yelled, "Bring your butt out here."

There was shuffling and one set of footsteps turned into multiple and soon the kitchen was flooded with people. The space felt smaller as they all tried to bunch in where we stood at the island. At some point, I just picked up the phone and moved it around so they all could look and or wave.

"They have invaded my home and I don't know how to get them to leave," I teased.

"You love us," Hals said.

She'd worked her way up next to me, knocking Joon to the side a little. Her eyes were trained on the phone, now propped up where it had been before.

"Hey, guys. We're all tired and decided to hang out indoors instead of going out. Jungkook and Tae are teaching me how to play Overwatch. Ken tried months ago, but said I was a lost cause."

I scoffed. "The lies you tell."

Before anything else could be said the doorbell went off, but Jin stopped me and went to go check himself. A few seconds passed and then there was a shout.

"Food's here!"

That's all it took for everyone to scramble out of the room, leaving me with Yoongi who was standing off to the side and kind of out of sight.

My stomach grumbled and I sighed. "Okay. This did not go down the path I meant it to, but whatever. I'm going to eat and then I might just post what I wanted to say on Twitter or something."

Just as my finger moved to the button that would end the live so I could say bye, it was snatched out of my hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked Yoongi.

He held up a finger to me and continued to stare into the camera. After a moment he spoke in English, taking a moment to get the right words out.

"Recently rumors about Kendall and I have happened. This is the second time and the rumors while not true would be fine, but attacking her is not. We are not dating. We are friends. And ARMY or trolls attacking her based on her race, appearance or in general are not cool. She's a great person and friend who I've grown to know over the months. We met because we are working together and our friendship grew from there. I would hate for this fun time we have creating music together to be ruined by people being rude. So stop. If you consider yourself my fan and ARMY and treat her this way then you are not my fan or a real ARMY."

Yoongi then proceeded to hand me the phone, which I almost dropped in shock of his little speech. I had not expected him to deliver the message himself, but it was nice.

After a moment of the camera facing the ground, I pulled it together and readjusted so I was looking into the camera.

"Uh... maybe I don't need to post that thing after all, but I still might." My words were slow as I was still recovering from shock.

"Come get food before someone else tries to take it," Jungkook yelled.

"So, yeah. Gotta go. Have a nice day. Bye."

With that, I ended the live and turned off my Instagram notifications, because I knew they'd be a shit show. Yoongi who was smirking simply grabbed my hand and dragged me out to the living room with the others.

#min yoongi #yoongi #suga #min suga #original character #oc #sugaxoc #yoongixoc #producer!oc #writer!oc #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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curtashiism · 6 years

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Free Fall- chapter 1

Summary: When Cruella inflicts a horrifying punishment on Carlos, Mal and Evie struggle to solve a mystery. Jay, meanwhile, must find the line between lashing out at the ones responsible, and being the rock Carlos needs.

A/N: Recently, through my Lefou RP blog, I've found my way into the Descendants fandom. Following my tradition of putting my favorite character(s) in any given fandom through unimaginable suffering, we have... this. Hope you enjoy it despite my clear lack of conscience, haha. Reviews are much appreciated.

The sunlight seeping in through the window wakes Jay from a deep sleep, and he groans in frustration. Pulling his pillow over his head, he grumbles, “Carlos, close the curtains, will you? ’s too early.”

“It’s noon,” Carlos retorts from their desks.

Jay is certain he’s already starting their weekend homework. On a Saturday, who the hell does that?

“Like I said. Too early,” Jay half-whines into his bed. “Come on, Carlos, it’s like the law you can’t do anything on a Saturday. Lemme sleep.”

“We have an extra practice at one, remember?” Carlos reminds him. “And you promised to come walk Dude with me before it starts. You have to get up, Jay.” Pouting, he says, “I’ve barely gotten any real time with you since midterms started!”

“I’ll get up at noon-thirty,” Jay says, whining again and rolling over. “Dude doesn’t need two of us to walk him.”

Carlos sighs in defeat, the disappointment clear in his voice. “Fine. I’ll bring Dude and then come back,” he says. Jay can practically hear his eyes rolling. “If you don’t get up then, I’m telling Coach exactly why you didn’t bother showing up for scrimmage.”

“Fine,” Jay says, far too grumpy to play along. “Just close the damn curtains!”

Carlos huffs, slamming the curtains closed- at least, as much as one can slam curtains. Jay wouldn’t be surprised if Carlos figures out the secret one day.

As the door closes, Jay yawns and stretches lazily, closing his eyes. He enjoys tourney, and is excited to practice, he truly is. He just can’t function before noon on weekends. He figures it’s a more than reasonable rule considering how hard he works the rest of the time. School is hard work, especially for people lacking Carlos’s brain.

A half hour more, and he’ll be ready to face the day, he decides, closing his eyes.

Some time later Jay wakes up to the sound of fists rapidly, frantically banging on his door. Immediately his heart starts pounding, remembering Jafar and his rude awakenings. He’s already halfway out of bed, about to apologize desperately to Jafar for not having gotten any scores yet, when he looks around and registers his surroundings.

“Come in, Carlos, I’m decent,” he calls, groaning in frustration. He’d been sleeping so well and now he’s wound up, anxious, instead of feeling peacefully rested.

The voice that replies isn’t Carlos’s, it’s Ben’s, and he sounds terrified as he demands, “Jay, you have to come with me right now!”

Jay’s heart immediately starts pounding again. “I’m coming!” He doesn’t even bother changing out of his pajamas or brushing his hair, just sliding on his shoes and throwing the door open. “What happened? Is Carlos- is he?-“

Ben is already running down the hall. “He’s not hurt, but- you need to hurry,” he calls over his shoulder.

Jay isn’t sure whether that makes him feel better, or worse. It somehow manages to be both at once. The what-ifs running through his mind make him freeze until Ben is already halfway down the hall, at which point Jay snaps back to his senses and charges after him, making up the lost ground right away.

The dread he feels makes his stomach cramp with terror. If Carlos isn’t hurt, what could be causing the pure panic in Ben’s eyes and voice? What else could possibly be this bad? His mind conjures a million scenarios that cause his body to soak itself with sweat. Could Carlos have had some kind of mental breakdown? Is he trying to return to the evil ways they’d sworn off? Is he sick? Sick, after all, isn’t the same as hurt.

Ben leads them past the tourney field, to the woods, and Jay swears his heart stops when a wail pierces his ears.

He’s not hurt, Ben had said, but what else could be causing the agony in Carlos’s voice? Jay has only hear a noise like that once in his life- when he was five, and Jafar had discovered Jay’s mother’s lifeless body in their bedroom. Oh no…

Suddenly it clicks into place, and time seems to slow even as Jay’s body speeds up. Carlos’s voice sounds miles away, and Jay feels as though he’ll never reach Carlos. The selfish part of him almost doesn’t want to, because for all he’d experienced on the Isle, he knows none of it will compare to the agony of his lover screaming with a pain that can rent apart without leaving a mark.

Already he begins pleading with whatever entity may exist. Hurt me instead, he begs, don’t make him go through this.

But there’s no undoing what’s just happened, and Jay knows it. He has no choice but to face the horrible reality.

Still in slow-motion, he hurries to Carlos’s voice, blood rushing to his ears, heart racing so fast his chest aches like a bruise.

“CARLOS!” he roars, charging into a clearing and finally finding Carlos in his line of sight. “CARLOS! I’M HERE!”

“J-Jay?” Carlos’s voice is so broken already, so hoarse and pained, like his very soul has been tortured. Like all the good has been torn out of his world.

God, how Jay wishes there were a physical wound instead. It wouldn’t hurt half as badly as looking at Carlos’s stricken expression.

“Carlos. What happened?” Finally, at last, he’s beside Carlos, and he wants to cry at the sight: Carlos’s eyes already bloodshot, tears streaming down his cheeks. Carlos is shuddering with every whimpering breath, cradling a tiny, bloody, forlorn figure to his chest.

Dude…

Jay’s heart breaks, no, shatters.

“Carlos,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “Carlos…” He can’t seem to say anything but the boy’s name.

Carlos lets out an utterly broken sob, burying his face in Jay’s chest. “H-He- h-he’s g-g-gone…“ The sobs get somehow still harder, Carlos gasping for breath and shaking violently. “H-He’s g-gone…”

“What happened?” Jay asks, trying to make his voice comforting instead of demanding; he isn’t sure if he succeeds.

“T-There was… s-something…” Carlos whimpers. “S-some kind of b-beast… it charged at us…” He lets out another gasp, and starts to gag, getting sick from the exertion of crying so violently. “D-Dude p-protected m-m-me!”

Carlos cries still harder, and clearly can’t continue, but Jay doesn’t need him to. He already has the picture in his mind, one he doesn’t want at all. But if Carlos has to have it in his head, then so should Jay. After all, his mind is already growling that it’s all his fault for not going on that walk.

“I’m so sorry…” Jay whispers, his voice softer and more full of sympathy than it’s ever been before. “Oh, Carlos, come here…” He sits on the ground, uncaring of the dirt, and pulls Carlos into his lap. Carlos gasps and bawls against Jay’s chest, fists balling up his shirt, and it’s all Jay can do to not to start crying himself. “Shh… shh…”

God, he wishes he knew what the hell he was supposed to do. He grew up on the Isle, for heaven’s sake; he knows nothing about comforting, not even his boyfriend. Surely he’s failing every which way. Why had Fairy Godmother never covered this in her stupid Remedial Goodness class?

Jay hopelessly looks to the sky, and sees that Ben is in the distance, watching them. After a moment Coach arrives behind him, face full of worry.

“Son, let’s get you back on school grounds,” Coach says softly, stepping towards them, but Carlos just whimpers and pulls closer to Jay.

“S-She d-d-did t-th-this,” Carlos manages through his tears.

Ben and Coach look at Jay in utter confusion, but Jay knows precisely what Carlos means, and immediately clarifies.

“Cruella,” Jay says, voice turning dark. “She did this to punish him for making friends with a dog and embarrassing her on family day.” He looks down at the boy in his arms. “She did something. I don’t know how, but she did.”

“You don’t know that,” Ben tries to reason, but Jay cuts him off with a glare.

“You’re telling me you just have wild animals roving around here ready to attack anyone who wanders off campus?” he spits with far more venom than he would if anyone else had been the injured party instead. He likes Ben, considers him a friend. But Carlos always comes first, and he can’t bring himself to care who else’s feelings get hurt if he’s protecting the smaller boy. All his life, Jay had been the only one Carlos could count on for protection, and Jay isn’t about to let him down for the second time in one day.

“No,” Ben says slowly, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “We haven’t had a bear or wolf sighting in at least ten years.” He looks to Coach for affirmation, and receives a silent nod.

Jay’s eyes darken dangerously. “It was her. Maleficent too, probably.” He looks down at Carlos and can’t help but whisper, too quietly for the others to hear, “why him?”

Carlos’s tears finally take their toll on him, and his slight gagging and coughing turns into vomiting. Jay winces and rubs his back through the fit, soothing words escaping him.

Carlos falls back against Jay when he’s finally done, panting weakly, and Jay steadies him with his strong arms. “Carlos,” he murmurs into his boyfriend’s ear, tenderly brushing Carlos’s hair out of his face. “We need to get back to our room so you can rest. Can I carry you?”

Shakily Carlos nods, wrapping one arm around Jay’s neck, the other still firmly clutching Dude’s body. Coach steps forward, ready to take it from Carlos’s arms, but Carlos lets out a faint cry of protest and wraps his arms tighter around his best friend’s lifeless form.

“I c-c-can’t l-l-l-eave h-h-hiiim,” the boy bawls, hiding his face. “H-He g-gave his l-l-l-l-life for meeee!…” As the last word escapes him Carlos lets out an agonized wail, once again letting his tears fall onto Jay’s shirt.

“O-Okay,” Jay says helplessly. What is he supposed to do, let Carlos carry Dude’s body around all day? “Okay. You don’t have to yet.” He looks sadly at the empty shell that had just an hour ago been so full of life and energy, that had given so much joy to Carlos. Tears finally forming in his own eyes, Jay reaches a hand out to pet Dude’s blood-soaked fur, confused when he feels that it’s still warm. Aren’t dead things supposed to be cold? That’s what he’s always heard.

Swallowing thickly, Jay forces himself to withdraw his hand, and looks down at Carlos. Again he wishes that the problem was anything else. He can fix anything else- sometimes it just takes a new gadget, or a stupid joke, or a kiss, or a plate of cookies. Other times it takes a reminder that he’ll never let Cruella near him again (which, of course, isn’t a promise he can keep anymore) or talking him through a panic attack. He can provide those things. But this… there’s nothing he can do.

He’s utterly helpless, and Jay hadn’t spent his entire life working to be the strongest so he could be helpless to protect Carlos when he needed Jay most.

Gritting his teeth, Jay decides to do the only thing he can for now. And so he stands with Carlos still in his arms, softly saying, “come on.”

“W-Where are we g-going?” Carlos asks, hiccuping as the tears finally start to slow.

Jay starts to reply with the obvious- back to campus- before realizing Carlos wants a more specific answer. “Our room. I’ll have the girls come meet us, okay?” He glances at Ben, who understands the unspoken command and races off.

“Okay,” Carlos whispers, before breaking into a fresh round of tears when he sees the puddle of blood on the ground. “I-I w-want Dude back! I-I didn’t- I- I tried to-”

“I know.” It’s all Jay can say. There are no words of comfort, no reassurances he can give.

“It was my fault! It should have been me!” Carlos wails into Jay’s shoulder, grip tightening on the broken bundle in his arms. “I was the one Cruella was mad at! Dude never did anything wrong!”

Jay bites his lip, vision starting to get blurry from his own tears of mingled sorrow and fury. They slide down his face, landing on Carlos’s hair, matching the tears Carlos has shed on his shirt.

Guilt starts to eat at Jay like an acid. It’s his fault, not Carlos’s, because Jay should have been there. Carlos could never have fought off a beast, but Jay could have. He could have ordered Carlos to carry Dude to safety while he headed the threat off.

But instead, he’d decided his sleep was more important than spending time with his boyfriend, and now Carlos and Dude have paid the price.

Because of him, Carlos’s best friend is dead. He’s caused Carlos more hurt than Cruella ever did.

No more coherent words are spoken on the trek to the dorms. Carlos is too distraught to say anything more, and Jay forces himself to be silent. He knows if he opens his mouth, he’ll spill all his guilty thoughts, and then Carlos will be more focused on assuaging Jay’s guilt than his own grief. Jay’s selfishness has already cost Carlos too damn much; the least he can do is not add to Carlos’s troubles.

The only small blessing is that Carlos stops protesting when Coach tries to take Dude from him. He lets Coach take the pathetic ball from his arms, and then tightens his grip on Jay, the tears coming as hard and fast as ever.

Mal and Evie are waiting in their room when Jay swings the door open. He meets the girls’ horrified eyes, his own expression dull and blank, while Carlos doesn’t seem to register them at all.

“Carlos,” Evie whispers, rushing over to them and cupping his face, looking into his eyes. “Oh my god Carlos, I’m so so sorry!”

Carlos lets out a tiny half-sob and presses still closer to Jay, and Jay looks between the girls and Carlos before making his way to Carlos’s bed and lying them both down, covering his boyfriend with the blanket.

He knows when he feels ill, nothing feels better than the soft warmth of a blanket- a warmth he only knows in the first place because Carlos had stolen one from Cruella long ago and given it to him- and though Carlos isn’t sick exactly, grief and shock may as well be the same thing. They’re both exhausting and fill a person up with emptiness and cold and misery.

A warm blanket is the best cure for both, in Jay’s opinion. So he spoons up behind Carlos, arms wrapped warmly and securely around him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises as the girls settle in front of Carlos, Evie openly weeping and Mal pretending not to care, but with clear cracks in her facade. The girls rub their friend’s shoulders, Evie whispering soft words of comfort that Jay knows Carlos won’t listen to.

Mal makes her way to Jay’s side of the bed, leaning forward to whisper in his ear urgently. “What happened?”

“Later,” Jay whispers. “I wanna get him calm.”

Mal nods her acceptance and goes back to Evie, and Jay returns to the task of calming Carlos down. Jay secretly tries to lull him to sleep, stroking his forehead the way he knows Carlos can barely resist, whispering soft nothings, and letting Carlos exhaust himself with tears. Even as Carlos fights it, Jay can see him sinking deeper, and he redoubles his efforts. He settles Carlos to lie half on top of him, head on Jay’s chest so Carlos can hear his fast but strong and steady heartbeat.

Carlos half-laughs as he says, “Oh, now you’re playing dirty…”

Jay too lets out a mirthless laugh, smiling without it reaching his eyes. “Do I play any other way? Now get some rest before I have Mal spray her sleeping potion on you.”

Carlos lets out a sound that’s more a sob than a chuckle, and falls asleep in Jay’s arms.

Then Jay looks up at the girls, and says lowly, “we have a problem. I don’t know how, but… Maleficent and Cruella are behind this. There hadn’t been a creature to attack anyone for ten years before this… and then it just happens to attack Carlos and Dude. It’s not a coincidence.”

Evie’s eyes widen, while Mal’s glow green, and Jay feels his stomach drop as he realizes this will only be the beginning for Carlos. His poor boyfriend will hardly be allowed a chance to grieve his friend, as instead they will have to find and fight this returning threat.

The very thought makes Jay’s arms tighten protectively around Carlos, and he gives a silent vow, on everything he holds important, that this time he will be there. It may be too late to save Dude, but he can help Carlos.

Jay watches Evie pull out her magic mirror and Mal pull out her spellbook. Mal’s jaw is set as she starts planning aloud, thinking of ways to find and chase leads.

He’ll make Cruella pay for hurting Carlos. For hurting him before they arrived in Auradon, and for coming back just when Carlos has finally started to recover from her abuse. She’ll regret all of it by the time Jay is done.

He’ll avenge both Carlos and Dude.

#carlos de vil #descendants #jay jafar #disney descendants #jaylos

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chrismerle · 7 years

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You’re Lucky You Made It: Chapter Four

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Characters: Prompto Argentum. Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. Ravus Nox Fleuret. Pryna. Umbra. A couple OCs. Chapter Rating: PG, for the moment. Warnings: Brief mentions of invasion Word count so far: 12,313 Notes: Whoops, this took eighty-five years. Partially because of work and partially because I was flying by the seat of my pants more for this chapter than the last few, but a lot of the delay was because... okay, this is going to sound really petty and stupid and irrational, but when I posted If The Ring Fits, it had over a thousand hits (on AO3) in the first two or three days. And then along came Backed In Silver, and I worked on that for weeks and that fic was my baby, and it seems like no one's actually read it. And that was really disheartening.

But that's my own baggage. Not to worry, though. This fic's not dead. I even have some idea of what I want to happen in the next two chapters. And, as ever, you're free to make suggestions if you wanna see something in particular.

Obligatory Disclaimer: I don’t own FFXV, since I’m not Square-Enix and I don’t even know anyone from Square-Enix. I don’t own the characters. I’m just playing with them.

Previously: Prologue. Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three.

CHAPTER FOUR: Wait a second let me catch my breath

"Assistant to the king," Prompto repeated, stuck somewhere between dubious and wildly incredulous.

"Yes," Luna confirmed, nodding once, her hands linked together behind her back. In the kitchen, Ravus had tea with Prompto's parents as he explained much the same thing to them. "He has more duties now than he's ever had before, and he had no time to prepare for them. On top of that, many of the personal staff he would have inherited from our mother did not survive the attack." Her expression dimmed slightly, before she cleared her throat and carried on. "He needs someone who can make it so he doesn't need to worry about the minutiae. You'll have your own room at the palace as well as the attention of my old tutors.”

"But what if I'm bad at it?" Prompto asked, tone approaching something plaintive. "I've never done anything like this before!"

Finally, Luna smiled gently. "Then your job will be to keep me company. I'm sure we can think of an official title. The Oracle's Confidante, perhaps?"

"I don't understand why, though?" Prompto replied, slightly distraught at the special treatment.

Luna's hands settled on his shoulders. "Because making sure you're safe is important."

Prompto's mouth opened, but no words came out, and he closed his mouth once again with a click. He blinked at her dumbly, and she covered her mouth with one hand to ineffectually hide a laugh.

"Will you try, at least?" she asked quietly.

Slowly, Prompto nodded. "Okay," he agreed faintly.

His parents, once it was explained that Prompto would be safe from the public in the palace, were quick to agree as well.

He was just trying it on a provisional basis. Prompto was adamant about that. So all he brought with him at first was a single duffel bag, so he could still guiltlessly decide it wasn’t for him and back out of it, if it came down to that.

He was given a room—a suite, actually, with a bathroom and a small sitting room with a kitchenette attached to the bedroom—and a uniform. It was very… white. White shirt. White vest. White trousers. The boots were black and almost seemed to be screaming at him because of it.

On his first day on the job, it seemed like everything was thrown into fast forward. There were names and schedules and routines to be memorized and everything was color coordinated and there were so many colors corresponding to so many people. Prompto handed the wrong folder to someone three times, and by lunch he was sure he was already a failure.

But Luna joined them for lunch, and Prompto managed to wrangle a laugh out of her and something like a smile out of Ravus as he described Pryna’s heroics of just a few days before. And it seemed a little less urgent after that. After all, if something was really that important, they wouldn’t have handed it to an untried rookie like him.

By the time dinner rolled around, he had at least handed everything to the right people and he’d only gotten lost twice more, and his work for the day seemed to be done. For the most part, at any rate.

The next few days move along at largely the same pace. To Prompto’s surprise, he memorized who was where and who did what and what went where and to whom without much of an issue.

Gradually, more of Prompto’s stuff moved into his new suite.

“Mama, I promise, everything is fine. Everyone is nice. No one’s said anything about… you know. It’s all—what? No! Well, I mean… he’s sort of giant and intimidating, but he’s pretty nice so far? I think, at least? …And yeah, dogs. …I’ll call in a couple days. Tell Papa I said hi.”

When Prompto handed over a stack of paperwork that was slightly smaller than it typically was, Ravus thumbed through it curiously. Clearing his throat, Prompto offered, “Luna told me to give her everything that wasn’t marked ‘urgent.’”

There was something like a smile on Ravus’s face, tiny though it was. “Of course she did.”

‘Urgent’ had a very different meaning in the palace, Prompto was beginning to think. Half of the “urgent” notices didn’t actually require attention for weeks or months. Some weren’t even that important.

(If he wasn’t actually supposed to read all of it quite so in-depth, well, no one had informed him of that and everyone seemed content to let him keep on keeping on.)

He handed over a stack. “Urgent.” A second stack. “Urgently within the next six months.” A third stack, previously tucked under his arm. “And ‘I wanna jump the queue by calling my pet trash important.’”

Ravus cleared his throat to mask something that was almost reminiscent of a laugh, and Prompto grinned as innocently as he could manage.

The Solstice was a subdued affair. Neither Luna nor Ravus felt especially festive without their mother at the helm of the festivities. They put in a token appearance at the festival, and of course the staff decorated the palace, but if the king or the Oracle had any plans, Prompto heard nothing about them. He didn’t ask.

It was two in the morning when Prompto was startled awake by Pryna barking in his ear, her muzzle resting on his pillow. He flailed his way awake and nearly fell out of bed, and he blinked at her as she trotted expectantly to his wardrobe.

He pulled his uniform on in a bleary-eyed daze and followed Pryna to Ravus’s office at a jog. Luna was lurking fretfully around Ravus’s shoulder when he got there, and both of them looked to have dressed in a hurry.

Ravus handed over a single folder without looking up from whatever had so thoroughly captured his attention on his desk.

“To the guard captain,” the king stated tersely. “He’ll know what to do with it from there.”

Prompto nodded out of habit and his fingers closed around the folder. When he backed out of the office, Pryna followed and Umbra met them in the hall, and both dogs escorted him to the captain’s quarters. Once the folder was in the proper hands, Umbra caught Prompto’s wrist before he could turn towards his suite again.

Brow furrowing in confusion, he followed them to the council chamber, though he ground to a halt outside the door.

‘Are you kidding me?’ he mouthed down at them, gesturing emphatically at the door with both hands. Being the king’s assistant didn’t magically mean he was welcome in council meetings.

Umbra tugged at his arm and Pryna prodded her nose against the door.

With a groan, Prompto dragged a hand down his face before slowly reaching for the knob. He opened the door only just enough to slip into the room. It seemed full to bursting and even Luna and Ravus hardly spared him a glance, though everyone seemed content to let him ferry reports and messages around the room and from guards and couriers that periodically showed up at the door.

A Nifillian patrol had been spotted in the mountains. True enough, they hadn’t done anything yet, but given the recent attack, their presence alone was enough to set everyone on edge.

But the fact that they hadn’t done anything made matters… complicated, Prompto was guessing. After three hours, all that had been accomplished was a lot of arguing over what to do, until a knock at the door interrupted them. There was a distracted nod from Luna as Prompto looked at her, and he slunk over to the door, opening it just enough to see a courier looking back at him. The courier shoved a slip of paper into Prompto’s hands and bolted, leaving Prompto to scurry to Ravus’s side with the message.

The king read it silently, and a moment later he reported, “The danger has passed for the moment,” and the room itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

There were still decisions to be made. Prompto knew that. For the time being, no one even knew what the… visit had been about. But Prompto left for his suite gratefully once he was excused.

“Mom—Ma—Mama. I’m fine—yeah, I know what the paper says, but—‘increased military presence’ doesn’t mean we’re all gonna die, it just means the king is being paranoid.” Prompto sighed slowly. “Uh huh. Yeah, mostly. Love you, too.” He hung up and dragged a hand down his face.

“Paranoid,” Ravus parroted, his tone perfectly deadpan and his gaze still roving over the papers in front of him.

Prompto shrugged helplessly. “I had to tell her something, unless you want her storming the palace.”

“Ah, well. Carry on, then.”

Prompto started regularly attending meetings with the council after that. Hearing the talk out loud made it easier to parse the paperwork. Easier to pick out the important words, to tell the garnish from the main course.

The first time he handed Ravus a cheatsheet with the rest of the paperwork, organized by page, topic, and sender, he actually got something like a smile.

“Ravus is in a good mood,” Luna remarked, her words deceptively mild. “I never thought I would see the day.”

“Well, you know me,” Prompto sighed loftily. “I’m a miracle worker.”

Luna’s eyebrows rose. “So you could take over for me for a few days, then?”

Prompto cleared his throat sharply. “I, ah. I wouldn’t go that far.”

Luna clicked her tongue. “A shame when peddlers of pretend miracles can operate so openly,” she sighed.

Prompto shrugged blithely. “A con man’s gotta make a living somehow.”

Luna swatted at him lightly with the backs of her fingers.

His mother sniffled and wiped her eyes the entire time she helped Prompto pack up the little that still remained in his bedroom at the house. His dad tried to play it casual, but he kept double- and triple-checking everything, ignoring the fact that at that point there was nothing critical left to pack.

By the end of the evening, the work was done and Prompto was pretty sure he was going to start crying, too.

He mentioned it to Luna, casually, without much of a thought. And though her smile was genuine enough, there was something distant in her gaze.

“…Sorry,” he offered afterwards, staring at his shoes.

She squeezed his shoulder and tipped his chin up. “It would be rather unreasonable if I forbid you from talking about your parents, wouldn’t it?”

“I would be pretty tempted,” he admitted, voice low and more of a mumble. But he shook his head minutely and offered a smile.

“We should go get dinner.”

Luna had her own aids and guards. Of course she did; she was the Oracle and she was their princess. The idea of leaving her to fend for herself, regardless of how capable they knew her to be, was practically anathema. Even so, her aids were not immune to the ordinary illnesses of men, and when one of them came down with the flu, Ravus instead sent Prompto with her for the day.

He had never actually seen the effects of the Starscourge up close. He had never seen her heal anyone. People tried to capture it on film, now and then, but she was always insistent that the cameras stay off until after she was finished.

He wasn’t expecting the way she paled, or the way she needed to lean on him to keep her balance when she was done. For a moment, it seemed she might blow away with the next breeze, and Prompto clung to her hand like a vise.

“Is it always like that?” he asked quietly that evening, sitting on a couch in her sitting room.

“Most often,” she replied lowly. She still sounded so tired.

Prompto made a low noise of distress. Luna watched him in quiet curiosity as he got to his feet and bustled into her bedroom proper. Her expression softened with amusement as he emerged again with her spare blanket and an armload of pillows, but she said nothing still, watching as he turned the couch into a lopsided fort.

He caught her hand afterwards and gave it an expectant tug. Dutifully, she settled inside the fort, though her eyebrows rose in confusion when Prompto left the room.

…Just long enough to prepare two mugs of tea and return. He joined her in the fort and pressed a mug into her hands.

“This,” he gestured around with his free hand, “is a No Oracle Zone,” he explained. “There is no Oracleing inside the fort.”

“Is that so?” Luna wondered wryly. “Is that an order, my lord?”

Prompto’s face heated and he nearly took it back, but he paused, and steeled himself, and nodded once, decisively. “Yes,” he decided. “Yes it is.”

“Well,” Luna sighed, “I would hate to go against a direct order.” She smiled ruefully. “I suppose you’ve won this round.”

Prompto nodded once in satisfaction.

Prompto was mostly talking to himself as he shuffled papers into categories, grumbling, “So many of these are common sense or pointless or just touching base. You could just teach me how to forge your signature and you’d save so much time.”

It was around then that he realized that he was, in fact, still audible, and he looked up slowly. “Your Majesty, uh…” He trailed off at the thoughtful look on Ravus’s face.

“Find a pen,” Ravus decided after a moment.

Luna was twenty and Prompto had no idea what to get her. If she wanted anything, she hadn’t mentioned it, and Prompto was pretty sure he couldn’t manage anything she needed.

He wound up begging one of the cooks to help him put a picnic together in exchange for taking pictures of her newborn niece on his next day off, and he and Luna had lunch in the flower field. Pryna had no less than three flower crowns by the end and she couldn’t have been more pleased with herself.

They ambushed Ravus for dessert. It was the only way to make sure he didn’t conveniently have something he needed to do as soon as they insinuated they wanted him to be marginally social.

A few days later, Prompto left a folder of pictures from the entire year in the fort. It had migrated from the couch in the sitting room to a rug in the bedroom, right in front of the largest window, looking out into the mountains.

The next time he was in the room, half of the the pictures had found their way to places of honor on the tables and walls.

Prompto was sixteen, and when he opened the long, narrow box that Luna handed him over breakfast, he almost squealed. The gloves were bright red, leather, fingerless, and went clear up to his elbows.

“Pretend one of them is from Ravus,” Luna instructed him drolly.

The king steadfastly ignored them.

Prompto unboxed the boots from his parents that evening. Bright red. Leather. Clear up to his knees. He was sensing a theme, so he didn’t bother asking if he could customize his uniform.

He got his mom to help him modify a red flannel into a vest. Worn under his uniform vest, it fit perfectly, only the tails and the collar of it visible. He looked pretty cool, he figured. And he felt more like himself.

Prompto was fairly sure the Solstice was never going to be a particularly cheerful time of year within the palace. He understood.

He went home on the eve of the Solstice to have dinner with his parents and to listen to his mother gush about his pictures of the more harmless parts of the palace.

He didn’t return to the palace until late on the Solstice, and when he went to Luna’s suite to let her know he was back, he found her sitting in the fort.

“There is no Oracleing inside the fort,” she recited, absentmindedly stroking a hand over Pryna’s head. “Isn’t that right?”

“Right,” Prompto agreed quietly. “It was a direct order.”

Luna hummed in agreement.

“How was your Solstice?” she asked after a moment. “Are you parents well?”

“They’re great,” Prompto assured her. “I mean, they miss having me around, but it was nice.”

Luna smiled faintly. “I’m glad.”

Ravus’s office door was closed. Though light crept out of the gap beneath the door, there was no answer when Prompto knocked.

Eventually, he returned to his suite.

Things were going… well. Prompto was good at his job, to his own continual amazement. Even if being able to forge the king’s signature, memorize three different schedules at a minimum of two weeks out, and sprint from one end of the palace to the other and back again in about five minutes were not quite the things he ever expected to be amongst his skill set.

He had no complaints, all things considered.

He just wished he had known in advance all of the things his duty would require of him.

#ffxv fanfic #final fantasy xv fanfic #prompto argentum #lunafreya nox fleuret #ravus nox fleuret #pryna #umbra #You're Lucky You Made It

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