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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #my writing #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf

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cowboyshit · 3 years

Text

twenty questions

tagged by: @dustofinsanity (thank you so much my dear!!!!!!)

what do you prefer to be called name-wise? honestly I’ll probably answer to most things as long as they aren’t mean. but ash, ashley, doe, those seem to be the solid three I’m known by around here when is your birthday? november 30th! where do you live? in a tiny, backwoods cow-town smack dab in the middle of california three things you are doing right now? filling this questionnaire out, eating dinner I just finished cooking, and petting sadie with my foot since she’s curled up at my feet after she finished her dinner four fandoms that have peaked your interest. I guess I can go with four I’ve been heavily involved with, even though there’s plenty more than that since I’m a little fangirl at heart, but wrestling (obviously), black sails, the night shift, and pirates of the caribbean how has the pandemic been treating you? uh, I mean, it hasn’t been great and I’ve had to deal with some pretty bad shit as all of us have, and probably some of my worst mental health battles I’ve had to face in about a year or so, but honestly? I just kind of count my blessings these days. lucky to still be employed, even if my pay got a little cut it was nothing that keeps me from paying my bills. all I had to do was take away a few luxury things to make ends meet, and that’s a lot, LOT less than other people have had to do. so yeah, it’s been pretty shitty, this year has been bad news after bad news both personally and globally, but whatever. it could be worse. a song you can’t stop listening to right now? it is no-joke like a four-way tie. a bunch of good songs were in my discover weekly and I’ve been playing four of them on non-stop repeat one after the other. oh! and one my best friend showed to me. this baby don’t cry by k. flay, rock bottom by grandson, ok ok by hoko, and insurgents by the poolside by denny recommend a movie. i’ve jumped into holiday mood early af because tbh I need the holiday cheer, so keeping in that theme, I suggest the holiday with jude law because DUH how old are you? thirty! school, university, occupation, other? had some college, been working in my current career for the past ten years. hoping to pursue a promotion finally since my supervisors have been telling me for the past eight years that I need to promote do you prefer heat or cold? cold pleeeaaaase! I’m a radiator and put off heat like nobody’s business. I’m always warm. name one fact others may not know about you. this is hard because I just constantly blab everything about me, and I have two people who literally know EVERYTHING about me lmfao uhhh I guess... something people may not know... uhhh... on my dad’s side of the family one half was ashkenazi jewish who had to flee germany to avoid the holocaust, where they went to live in italy, while the other half were nazi’s committing some pretty bad stuff that my family won’t talk about, even to this day. funny how two descendants eventually met in america and fell in love, huh? and when they DID fall in love one of them was half italian and in the mafia! so I always joke that my bubbly cheerful self is a descendent of some pretty evil shit, and it feels like a nice little stab at those shitty ancestors of mine. are you shy? uhhh yeah and no??? like. I think I’m shy, since all interaction terrifies me and exhausts me, but everyone tells me I’m a social butterfly? and I’ve noticed in places I’m comfortable and confident, I do tend to be less shy and more involved and interactive? but I think I can be shy. a lot of waiting for other people to initiate because I’m too afraid to, struggling to talk or carry a conversation at times... I don’t know I think I’m overcomplicating this answer LOL preferred pronouns? she/her! biggest pet peeves? gatekeeping, to be perfectly honest. I stopped following wrestling back in 2014 because when I first tried to get into the fandom, someone was trying to gatekeep a wrestler I also liked and had started making content for and they made me feel like shit for liking them, and I absolutely hated it. that’s why it took me an entire two years of quietly lurking in the wrestling fandom before I finally got brave enough to come out of the woodwork, and I’m grateful I’ve been so well received this time around. but now I’m hyper-sensitive to gatekeeping and I fucking hate it. no joke. and since it’s a pet peeve and I’m irked just remembering all that bs I went through, ima say I’m only a part of fandom to share my love of whatever that thing is with other people who love it too. I can’t stand anyone who thinks they have some sort of “claim” over a celebrity or a show or anything. get a different identity that isn’t wrapped up in that thing and stop seeing it as a threat when other people like it. be happy someone else is as passionate about that thing as you are and make a friend. damn. what is your favorite “dere” type? I’m pretty sure this is something with anime or that originated from anime, right? unfortunately I don’t know what they are so I can’t say LOL I don’t even know if I’m right about it coming from anime tbh rate your life from 1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be. 4, 5, but I’m putting in the foundation now and working to make it a 6, 7, or possibly 8 by a year or two from now. what’s your main blog? funnily enough? this one. my OTHER blog that was my main blog since I joined tumblr in 2009 got shoved to the side for this one last year LOL I assumed I’d log onto this blog once in awhile, but now it took over my whole damn life so here I am I guess list your side blogs and what they’re used for. I’m going to be fair and ONLY list my active ones because I have a few side blogs from when I role-played on tumblr that I haven’t touched in over a year. @doedreamss is my non-wrestling blog that WAS my main blog before this one, @cowboysht is my archive where I am ONLY putting my original gifsets/analysis/fanfiction so that one day I can offer people a blog of just my original work and no other posts (the queue is very slowly catching up I think I’ve queued posts up until june this year), @illfatedandstarcrossed is just a non-frequently used outlet for me to mope and dump emotions when I get sad about my relationship things (like a diary! but... public? and not my original thoughts? LOL), and then I have one more blog but it’s locked and private and it’s LITERALLY my diary where I can just vent when I got shit I wanna get off my chest but don’t necessarily want people to see it. Is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends? I probably won’t talk to you daily, tbh. I may not even talk to you weekly. socializing takes a lot out of me, on top of an already energy draining day-to-day in my personal life. I have a handful of people I connect with who I talk with frequently, but unfortunately as much as I’d love for it to be endless, I have to keep that list short for my own sanity. my infrequent conversations mean absolutely nothing about my lack of interest in you or how much I care about you. my granny once said I would be the perfect friend for someone you only want to talk to twice a month and she thought she was insulting me, but deadass I just said “YEAH! EXACTLY!!”

tagging: I really like this one so I WANT to tag people, but I feel braindead and also just want to post it cause I feel like I am definitely gonna forget to tag someone tbh aaaaahh okay okay I’m just gonna throw some names out there but please don’t feel pressured to do this (it is TWENTY questions) @kennyhoemega, @champbucks, @superkickparty, @adampage, @hintsofsunshine, @audreyhrnes, @sheslikealostflower, @lancearchers, @champnick, @janelanutella, @edgecution, @superrezzy00, @wardl0w, @writinglionqueen, @orangechuckiet, @hungmanhorsecarriage, @icouldbesus, @thatnerdwriter, @rampagewriting, @snarkandsarcasmftw, @tetsuyainthesky AND I DUNNO JUST ANYONE WHO WANTS TO OK I LOVE YOU ALL BYE

#ashleys playin #not wrestling related #long post for ts #long post

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dr-charlie-eppes · 3 years

Text

SHOOTING MY SHOT - A RedFinch College AU

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, @kathreestars. I was your Secret Santa as part of the @newsies-secretsanta gift exchange.

I really hope you love your gift. It is a RedFinch College AU, as per your request. I have never written either of these things, so I hope it’s good and in character (but no promises :D!) It turned out WAY longer than expected, too :P. Oopsie daisies!

The story begins below the cut, and I will also include a link to when I have cross-posted AO3 (sometime in January).

Please enjoy!

“Shooting My Shot” - A RedFinch College AU

0000

It was the night before Albert moved out of his childhood home and went to college. He was nervous and excited and rushing through packing his boxes. Sure, he should have done this earlier, but that didn’t matter now. Folding his last sweatshirt into a box, his mind wandered.

Tomorrow was the first day of a new chapter of his life. He was about to move to New York City to study paediatrics, starting his career as a children’s nurse. It was what he’d wanted for years; he was more than happy it was coming true. All the same, he was full of nervous energy. The next few days held so many unknowns. He was struggling to wrap his head around what was going to happen next.

A small mountain of pristine cardboard boxes, a visual representation of what mattered enough to bring with him, lay before him. Each was adorned with a great many strips of duct tape to keep them shut. He hadn’t labelled any of them since he would just unpack them the second he arrived, and he only had to open them to know what was inside. It seemed like a waste of time to go digging through his things to find a Sharpie to deface the boxes.

His phone dinged twice is quick succession. One was from Jack, letting him know he was on his way over from next door. They were travelling to college together in the morning, seeing as they had made it into the same school. The second was from Race, wishing him luck.

Race had been Albert’s best friend since kindergarten. They hadn’t spent more than about three days apart since they met, living in each other’s back pockets and practically joined at the hip for as long as anyone could remember. They had planned on going to the same school, rooming together through college. However, Race had been accepted last minute to his dream school in Brooklyn and was leaving Albert, following his passion for dance. Albert wasn’t mad, not at all; in fact, he was thrilled for his friend. Brooklyn wasn’t that far, so he was sure they’d see each other often. However, without Race, he wasn’t sure who he’d be rooming with.

Continuing to pack his boxes, Albert’s mind wandered to his roommate situation. He was, admittedly, nervous. Without Race, he would be rooming with an unknown student. By the time he’d worked that out, the deadline had passed to submit a request to be paired with someone specific; He would be added to the lottery to be paired up at random with his new roommate. He was worried about that: sharing his space with a whole stranger, stuck together in close quarters, learning to get along. What if he was paired with someone disrespectful, or homophobic, or creepy, or just plain annoying? Albert knew he could be hard to get along with, tending to mistime jokes and miss queues, rubbing people the wrong way. He could sabotage their relationship without even knowing. And even if he didn’t, that didn’t guarantee it’d be smooth sailing. They might not get along, but what could they do? They’d be stuck together for at least two semesters. Dorm rooms were sometimes roomy, but not enough to avoid each other.

The anxiety wasn’t productive: Albert knew that. He couldn’t help it. Change was hard; he didn’t feel ready.

And Jack Kelly was not helping matters. Sure, Jack was one of his best friends - basically a brother, really - but he was an ass. He would do anything to embarrass or inconvenience Albert. That was in part due to their prank war, which had started in ninth grade when Jack replaced his gym shorts with a purple tutu and was still going strong on their first day of college. Of course, he’d never miss an opportunity to get Albert back. Nothing was sacred, no object or situation safe from Jack’s interference. All things considered, Albert should have seen this coming.

Jack offered to help him carry them to the car; there were a few, and it was already late, so Albert accepted. That was his first mistake. Jack took one look at them and started goading him.

“You should label your boxes, Al.” He said as he picked them up.

“No.”

Then, on the landing, “How are you gonna know what’s in ‘em? It’ll be a pain to unpack.”

“I know what I packed, Jack.”

“They look naked without labels.” He whined as they walked out the front door.

“Shut up.”

They started to load them into the car, slotting them in the trunk with the lightest ones on top.

“What kind of psychopath just puts their stuff in a box and closes it up?” Jack questioned with an edge of challenge.

Albert rolled his eyes, taking a medium sized box - possibly containing his desk lamp - and stacking it on top of the others.

“This ain’t a pass-the-parcel, Al, you’re allowed to know what’s in the box.”

“If you don’t shut up, Jackie, so help me, you’ll be trying to run without kneecaps.”

The seemingly endless prods and pokes continued as they loaded all his unlabelled boxes into the car. Jack continued his stream of nonsense, his arguments devolving into snipes and jabs. Albert shut the trunk forcefully, fixing Jack with a look.

“I ain’t labelling ‘em,” he stated with finality, “I know what I packed, and I’ll just unpack when I get there. If they ain’t labelled, Ma can reuse the boxes for something else later without having to scratch the writing out. It’s just easier.”

Jack gave him an unconvinced look but shrugged and let it go. Al should’ve known that was suspicious. Jack never could back down from an argument. Why would this one have been any different?

His second mistake was leaving the car unlocked. They lived in a good area; there wasn’t any reason to lock it. Besides, who would want to steal a bunch of blank boxes full of sweatshirts and towels? However, this turned out to be his downfall. The lock was the only barrier between Jack and his boxes, the last defence. Without needing to steal Al’s mom’s keys, there was nothing standing in his way. He was free to wreak havoc on his things.

His third mistake was not checking his boxes in the morning. They were in a hurry to get on the road - which was not unusual - so Al planned ahead and double checked everything when he brought the boxes down. He knew he had everything he needed, saving time in the morning. Without those last minute checks, he had no chance of catching Jack's little prank before they arrived at the campus.

Jack hadn’t let on that anything had happened. Crammed in the back seat, surrounded by his own boxes and bags, he appeared to the world perfectly angelic. Well, as angelic as Jack Kelly could be. In truth, he was the same snarky and sarcastic man he’d always been, cracking jokes like normal. Albert had no reason to suspect a thing.

So you could imagine his shock and regret when he lifted the trunk to find his boxes, all labelled in Jack’s scratchy block letters with obscene and embarrassing labels. Roadkill - California to Texas. Grandma’s ashes - This way up! (Decorated with arrows pointing to the bottom of the box, naturally). Meditation CDs - Pokémon, Ru Paul, My Little Pony. And right on the top, the Crown Jewels of Jack Kelly’s mayhem: Dildos - Size M-XL.

It was hard to embarrass Albert - it really was. He’d spent his high school years being tormented and humiliated by Jack and had grown a tolerance for this kind of thing. Carrying a box labelled ‘dildos’ across campus was far from the worst thing he’d ever had to do. However, he did worry about what his roommate might think. If he was worried about being paired with a weirdo, others must be too. This was one of those first impressions you couldn’t take back. Joy of joys.

Undeterred, he grabbed the box and braced for impact. Making his way swiftly and unashamedly to his dorm, he ignored the stares and snickers of his peers. Look at my box of dildos, folks. Take it in. They could have guessed that this was a prank, but the surprise of it still caught most of them off guard. Albert pressed on through the crowds, rolling his eyes.

If they can’t tell that this is a joke, then they ain’t smart enough for college.

He just hoped his roommate could see the humour in it.

Speaking of his roommate, he rounded the final corner with his package. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see shadows moving under the door. Taking one final, bracing breath, Albert shuffled the box onto his forearm and pushed the door, embracing his fate.

A trick of timing, the universe’s cruel joke, caused Albert to enter the doorway at the precise moment that his new roommate fired a sticky dart from his Nerf gun. The dart shot through the air. It travelled with a great deal more speed than it should, zipping through the room. No doubt it would have continued into the hall had the doorway been empty. However, it was stopped by Albert’s moving box, adhering at the dead centre of the “O” in dildos.

All movement and sound stopped as Albert looked eyes with his new roommate.

What a first impression.

0000

Moments earlier, Finch had been alone in his dorm. The last few weeks had been a blur of emotions, and he was trying to wrap his mind around it before his new roommate arrived. His first impressions were often lacking, and he hoped that he could start out this relationship on the right foot.

His decision to come to this school had been rushed. Life had spiralled out of control, leaving bad blood between him and his folks. He got an offer to move here to Manhattan, far from them, and he jumped on it. His new life was stretched out in front of him. King of his own destiny, he surveyed his territory. And sure, a cramped college dorm room that he had to share with a stranger wasn’t much of a kingdom. But the hum of the radiator sounded like freedom, and the carpet was soft. He could learn to be happy here.

He was already unpacked, all three of his boxes piled up in the corner. In his hand, he held six plastic Nerf targets. He’d bought them at the dollar store in the ninth grade, using sharpshooting as an escape from life. Since then, his skills had grown, and he frequently moved them around to give himself more of a challenge. Mapping the room, he weighed his options. He was, of course, limited to his side of the room, which made it harder to place them in a way that would challenge him. Still, he was resourceful. And maybe his new friend - he really hoped they would get along - might let him spread them around a bit.

There was one classic place, though. In all the time he’d had these targets, one place stayed constant. He went and hung the first bullseye at the dead centre of the door on the inside. He could hit it with his eyes closed, in his sleep, or with his hands tied behind his back, but he didn’t care. The target on the door had been the most stable relationship he’d had in years, always there, always within reach.

He dumped the rest of the targets on his bed, liberating his Nerf gun from his backpack. It had been his first, and it was the favourite of his whole collection. Modelled like a sawed-off shotgun, it was easy to aim and familiar. He’d carried it with him everywhere since he’d gotten it. This little green and orange eyesore was practically an extra limb, an extension of Finch himself. He’d gotten more high-power guns since, ones that could throw darts faster than he could blink, but he loved this one the best.

Loading in a sticky dart, he aimed for the door and pulled the trigger.

In a statistically remarkable series of events, someone pushed the door open at the precise moment he pulled the trigger. They got in the path of the dart, the new target of the shot. Thankfully, the person was carrying a box - otherwise, they would have been hit square in the chest; not exactly a great first impression. The dart, however, sailed gracefully through the room and stuck to the stranger’s box with a satisfying sticking noise. It lined up perfectly with the writing on the box, centred in the middle of one of the letters. If he’d been aiming for it, Finch would have been impressed with his shot. As it stood, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Bullseye, I guess.

0000

Both men stood, frozen in time. All the sound had been sucked from the room, leaving only a thick silence. Neither was sure what to do to break it. Albert wanted speak - he really did. Wanted to laugh, introduce himself, settle in. However, his mouth was dry, and any words died before they could reach his throat, all systems at a standstill. He couldn’t even walk through the door for fear he would break the spell.

Why? Well, the man in front of him - his new roommate, the one holding the Nerf gun - was insanely hot.

He looked like a Renaissance painting. Classically beautiful, without being plain. A long thin face that reminded Albert distantly of a horse, smooth angles that caught the light and held it. Bright pearlescent teeth and unnaturally brown eyes. He looked as if he had stolen the light from the sun, soaking in its warmth and making it his own. All his brightness and sharpness was contrasted with his soft, green sweatshirt and bare feet, the picture of domesticity. All of it was at odds with the keenness of his shot, the Nerf gun still aimed dangerously at Albert’s chest. Nonetheless, every inch of him was beautiful.

Of all the things he’d been afraid of, falling in love with his roommate was the least expected.

He was suddenly a lot more worried about his first impression.

0000

He needn’t have worried: because on the opposite side of the dorm, the same things were going through Finch’s head.

Finch had always been a sucker for a redhead; the man in front of him, with his strikingly fiery curls, was no exception. Every line of his face was beautiful - from the creases around his eyes to his goofy grin. His eyes were a sweet brown, like Nutella or hot cocoa, deep and inviting. They caught the light like a Pokémon trainer catches them all. His lips were pulling slowly out of a grin into a shocked gape. Even in his confusion, he was breathtaking. His arms cradled his moving box like Cupid cradles his bow - invitingly and full of undiscovered love. His legs were obviously strong, judging by the way his jeans were stretched over them.

Finch couldn’t move or breathe or look away. He needed to lower his Nerf gun, introduce himself and explain, something, anything. Instead, he stood, transfixed and in awe. If this man were the moon, then Finch were the tides - unable to move without his say-so. His every thought was directed by this beautiful stranger.

His new roommate.

His roommate.

His.

That snapped him out of it.

0000

The beautiful stranger cleared this throat.

“Sorry!”

“Nice shot,” whispered Albert.

The stranger smiled, brushing the back of his neck. He spoke again.

“Uh, hi?”

Albert nodded. That was exactly what he’d been trying to say.

“Hi.”

A moments more of silence settled around them. Neither was entirely sure how to come back from that introduction, and both were too transfixed by the other to risk saying the wrong thing.

Albert eventually found his courage. Shuffling his moving box onto one arm, he extended his hand in greeting.

“I’m Albert.”

Tossing his Nerf gun to his bed, the stranger followed suit.

“Patrick, but the guys back home called me Finch.”

“Why 'Finch'?” Albert asked.

“I put a bird in the principal’s office 'cause he was homophobic,” the boy - Finch - shrugged, “It’s my greatest achievement to date.”

Albert didn’t know if he could fall more in love than he was already. His heart felt like it might explode. This adorable, Nerf-gun shooting, homophobe-hating man was all he could think about. He was distantly aware that he needed to bring his stuff in from the car, needed to put down the dildo box and unpack, but he was happy just standing in the doorway watching Finch.

However, his standing was misinterpreted by his new crush, who suddenly smacked his forehead and stepped to the side.

“Oh, sorry, I’m totally blocking the way. Come in.” He swept his hands to the side like a waiter, ushering Albert in.

He took his chance, stepping in and putting his box on the empty bunk. It tipped merrily onto one side, revealing another of Jack’s secret messages. Albert flopped his head back with a groan. Finch caught sight of the new scribble as well. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Albert excused himself to get the rest of his boxes from the car, but also so he could get some fresh air. Finch was beautiful and badass. He was unlike any other guy Albert had met. If he blew his chance with him, well, he’d never forgive himself. He might be getting ahead of himself, but he kept wondering what Finch might look like in a tux and what song their first dance would be to. His mom had always called him a hopeless romantic, so had Jack. He was inclined to agree. He loved the idea of falling in love and marrying his favourite person ever, having a husband to share life’s moments with. And yeah, he’d only known Finch for ten minutes, but every fibre of his being seemed to think this guy was the perfect candidate.

He daydreamed all the way back to the dorm, trying to think of something charming to say to Finch. A pickup line? Or maybe some poetry. Where was Jack when you needed him? That man could charm the pants off of anyone. Although, from memory, he and Davey met when Jack accidentally tipped his paint water out over the art room balcony and all over Davey’s head.

As he stepped through the door of his dorm, he took a breath and prepared to ask Finch out. However, his new roommate was already speaking, pointing at the box on his bed.

“Okay, I gotta ask-“

“-It’s not dildos, I swear,” Albert cut him off.

“-who defaced your box?”

“Oh.” Wasn’t expecting that. “Um, Jack. Pain in my ass.”

Finch nodded, snickering, and gestured the box in Albert’s arms. This one read TIME MACHINE - DISASSEMBLED.

“So is he ya boyfriend or something?”

“Oh, fuck no.” Albert laughed - imagine him dating Jack, yuck - and clarified, “He’s sorta my brother? Lived next door to me and my Ma. He’s just up the hall now, helping Davey unpack.”

“Davey?”

“Jack’s boyfriend,” Albert shrugged. He wondered what Davey saw in Jack but decided not to think too hard. Davey was a least twice as smart as Albert would ever be; he would have his reasons. He expressed this to Finch, who laughed and offered a similar anecdote about a friend called Spot who was dating some extroverted Manhattan twink with a sarcastic streak a mile wide.

“They’re perfect for each other because no one can understand them,” Finch smiled, “the peanut butter and jelly of people.”

They continued to laugh and talk about their friends, bonding over their weird friends with weirder names.

Albert ducked out for more boxes. He moved every crass title from his car to his dorm, unpacking them as he went to discover their real contents. Finch offered the help him carry them back to his mom’s car when they were empty.

On the way, he asked about Jack’s prank again.

“So, Jack’s a prankster?”

Albert nodded, “Yeah, we’ve had a prank war going since the ninth grade.”

“War, huh?” Finch raised an eyebrow. “How you’re gonna get him back?”

“No idea yet, but it’s gonna be big.”

Finch was sure that it would be. He told Albert as such.

“Let me know if you’ll be wanting help,” he smiled, playfully elbowing his ribs, “I’m a sharpshooter, after all.”

Albert wasn’t sure how that would come in handy, but he filed it away for later use.

0000

In their first week together, they circled around each other, teasing and testing. It was an easy tension of learning each other’s habits and personalities.

As it turned out, Finch was a troublemaker. With his keen eye and trained aimed, he and his Nerf gun could wreak all kinds of havoc. Albert found himself stuck with more darts than he’d ever seen. He learned to listen for the quiet ‘snick’ sound of the gun being loaded, hyper aware of the bright orange darts as they landed around him.

Finch used his talents for good, sometimes, shooting bananas off the hand with a carefully modified ‘knife dart’ - which turned out to be a Nerf dart with a straightened out paper clip in it. He could also switch the lights off from his bunk with one flick of the trigger. Both were pretty cool tricks, but Al found himself loving Finch’s cheeky moves more.

He had returned to the dorm after class to find that Finch had used his posters as target practice, using strategically placed darts to block out certain letters and leave crude messages for him. The next day, he was greeted with a flurry of darts as he entered the room, Finch raining down on him with his most quick-firing gun. He also left Albert notes on the dorm door, where anyone could read them - thanks for letting me borrow your toothbrush! and Adam from the butt-lift place called - they can fix your pancake butt! and Where’s the haemorrhoid cream?

Albert loved it. In return, he reset Finch’s ringtones to weird and embarrassing sounds and short-sheeted his bed. He also stole Finch’s hats and sweatshirts, basically combining their wardrobes into one mega-wardrobe. He also replaced all of Finch’s stationery with sticks of gum, which turned out to be less of a prank and more of a genius ice-breaking hack.

They grew closer. All the pranks led to them getting to know each other’s likes and dislikes, their insecurities and routines. The more Albert learnt, the more he wanted to know. Finch was becoming his best friend. The crush he was nursing grew into a warm and unexplainable thing. Each passing day brought new moments of friendship and growth. Finch challenged him, distracted him, entertained him. He was bright and annoying, glued to his hip like a loyal puppy and floating around him. Albert grew to love his company, loved how he would ask questions while you studied - that was more helpful than he could have known, helping Albert to identify the gaps in his knowledge. Finch was the puzzle piece he had been missing.

Finch felt the same, although Albert didn’t know that. He loved the way that Albert would respond to his cheek and snark with jibes of his own. Albert enjoyed his pranks and put thought and time into retaliating. He was quieter than Finch, happy to just share the room with you without needing conversation to fill the void. He seemed to light up when Finch asked him questions, explaining the complex medical topics he was learning. He was full of adrenaline and grace, not often static. Finch found himself following Albert’s movements when he paced, drawn in. Albert was his muse. He couldn’t get enough of the beautiful redhead.

0000

At the opening of their second week, Albert returned to their dorm with a twinkle in his eye and a bagel in his hand. Finch, with Nerf gun in hand, shot a dart into the hole of the bagel.

“You!” Pointed Albert.

“Me?” Questioned Finch playfully.

“How would you like to help me get back at Jack?”

Finch nodded, “I’m in. What’s the play?”

As it turned out, Jack had planned a secret date for Davey. They hadn’t had a lot of time since coming to college, so Jack wanted to do something nice. He’d told Albert that he and Davey were going to have a picnic on the sports fields in the evening. Super romantic, at least it was supposed to be.

“I want to crash their party,” explained Albert, “but I need your help.”

He then explained that they needed a way to get in and out fast. If they lingered, Jack’s wrath would rain down upon them. Speed is of the element, Finchy, Albert had said. Luckily, Albert had become sort-of friends with one of the security guards. This guard, Denton, agreed to ‘accidentally’ leave the keys in one of the school’s golf carts for their use. As long as they returned it in one piece, no one would be the wiser.

“Where do I come in, Al?”

“I want you to get your best Nerf gun -one o’ those ones that shoot really fast. While I'm driving, I want you to spray ‘em with darts. I got some toilet paper to throw. I just didn’t think that was enough. Plus, you’ve got a wicked sense of aim. I could use a little help.”

It was a solid plan. Like Jack’s box prank, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Albert assured him Davey would think it was funny too. He was almost as much a part of the war as Jack or Albert. If anything, he'd take it as an invitation to get his own revenge. No one’s day’s gonna be ruined.

“I’m your guy,” smiled Finch, “when do we start.”

“We ride at six. Wear something stealthy.”

0000

Six o'clock rolled around quickly. Finch had ducked out to the dollar store, picking up some more sticky darts. When he returned, he found Albert. His crazy roommate was dressed like a cartoon cat-burglar, complete with a black turtleneck and war paint. He was hastily stuffing toilet rolls into his backpack. They were armed to the teeth with Nerf darts, toilet paper, and biodegradable party confetti.

“Looking good, Al,” laughed Finch.

He was also dressed for the occasion, a mismatched all-black ensemble. He even opted for some fingerless gloves he saw at the store. He had never been one to half-ass a prank. Besides, going all out might impress Albert.

“Ready?”

“Born ready, Finch.”

“Funny, I thought you were born ‘Albert.’”

A roll of toilet paper hit him in the head.

0000

The plan was in motion.

Denton had left the cart parked by the dormitories. They were set to go, just waiting for confirmation that Jack was in position. Sure enough, Davey posted a sappy picture on his Snapchat story, toting Jack’s merits as a caring boyfriend. They were clearly on the sports field, spread out on an honest-to-goodness checked rug, picnic basket and all. The sunset painted pastel lines behind them.

As the light of sunset faded to night, they started up the cart. Crammed in with the ammo and a truly gigantic nerf gun, Albert and Finch were pressed into each other’s sides. Unbeknownst to them, both were enjoying the contact, pining for more than just the necessary contact of the cart. They drove at agonisingly slow speeds towards the sports fields, staying in the cover of the shadows of the campus. If they were caught, it would all be over. Luckily, the pair thrived on adrenaline.

Their trip to the sports fields was short and silent. Albert couldn’t help but hold his breath as if the sound of it might give their location away. It didn’t occur to him that the sounds of the cart would get them caught before his breathing would. Finch kept directing him with hand signals, guiding the cart through a maze of secret tunnels that kept them hidden.

Eventually, the great secrecy of it all got the better of them. Albert could picture them, both dressed like the bad guys in a cartoon spy movie, zooming through the campus with reckless abandon. They weren’t going fast at all - he thought it might not even bruise if he fell out of the cart. But here they were, leaning and ducking with each move as if they were in a Fast and Furious movie. Finch was holding onto the roof to stabilise himself. They were surrounded be a hoard of completely harmless weapons, yet they acted as if they were heading into a war. That last thought, along with the image of what they must look like, cause Albert to giggle.

Once.

Twice.

A snort.

Then Finch started.

Their silent voyage was overrun with laughter. Finch was shaking, trying to contain his sounds. Albert was hiccuping out barks of laughter. The noise grew until it drowned out the hum of engines. Try as they might, there was no stopping it. Tears filled Albert’s eyes. Finch took hold of the wheel and directed the cart as he snorted. They continued on, the most joyful caravan in the country. They couldn’t stop their noise until they saw the sports fields.

It was a bracing and sobering experience. Two weeks of thinking and planning had led them to this. The importance of their mission overcame their joy. They pulled their adrenaline back in, the noise level dropping below the noise of the cart. It was time.

The light from the fake tea light candles on the rug guided them. A moment of quiet and a few hand gestures revealed that there would be no way to sneak up on them. The cart was too big, the moon too bright. The element of surprise would be lost too quickly if they approached cautiously. Albert made the motion for ‘step on it’, pressing his palm out in front of him. Finch nodded. Mouthing the words, Albert counted down from three. He threw the golf cart into gear, shredding across the lawn at max speed.

The pickup in speed caused them both to shout. Any semblance of sneaking in was abandoned as Albert and Finch began a deafening war cry of whooping and cheering. They bounced across the field, the cart shaking with effort. One hand on the wheel, Albert loaded himself with a roll of toilet paper. Finch aimed his Nerf scope, fixed on the happy couple.

Jack caught sight of them too late.

“ALBERT!”

A shower of Nerf darts cut off his cries. Albert hit him square in the chest with a roll of paper. Davey, shocked and excited, burst out gleefully at the shower of multicoloured confetti, picking up handfuls and tossing them at his boyfriend.

The drive-by took only a few seconds. There was chaos as they unloaded all they had at Albert’s friends. It would long be remembered as the highlight of the whole prank war. The picnic rug, previously set out romantically with breadsticks and candles, was now littered with darts and rolls of paper and a sprinkling of reflective paper strips. It was glorious. Strangely, it looked like the leftover mess from a child’s birthday party. In Albert’s eyes, this was perfect revenge.

“That’s for the boxes, Kelly!” He screamed as they sped off.

The cart barrelled across the fields and out of sight, leaving Jack and Davey in its wake. The boys, happy with their successful mission, tore off into the night in fits of giggles once more. They didn’t stop until they were well out of sight. Only when they had pulled the cart to a stop outside the security office did they finally calm down.

Pressed close and sweating awfully, they breathed through the rush of adrenaline. The whole evening had come to a crescendo. They both smiled, calming down.

“That was awesome,” Albert laughed, “Thank you, Finchy.”

Finch slung an arm around him, “Always, Al.”

They stayed intertwined for a second. Albert liked the feel of being so close to Finch, tucked into his chest safe and warm. He didn’t want to pull away, but he was becoming more aware of how close they were. This was closer than friends. He was sure Finch knew that.

Pulling back, he looked to his roommate.

“Finch?”

“Hmm?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never. He was going to say something.

“Would ya like it if we-“

He was cut off by Finch’s lips on his.

Oh, yeah, let’s do that.

His brain went offline, surprised by the kiss. Finch’s lips were dry from the cold night air but soft and cool against his own. He could feel the flush of Finch’s cheeks. He gasped through his noise - a noise of shock and approval.

Finch pulled back as he tried to reciprocate. He looked him cautiously in the eyes.

“I sure hope I didn’t read that wrong.”

Albert chuckled. He pulled him in by the shirt, nearly tipping Finch out of the cart with his enthusiasm. This kiss was perfect. Longer and deeper than the other, they were chest to chest by the end. They weren’t yet used to this motion, so their chins and noses bumped as they moved, prompting little giggles between their lips. It was the happiest kiss Albert had ever had. Finch was warm and close and all his for a few moments.

Finch bit his nip with a mock growl, pulling back to smile at him. Albert looked flushed and overwhelmed. However, the smile that split his face betrayed his emotions.

“I hope that’s my last first kiss ever,” Finch whispered.

Albert looked shocked, but his smile didn’t fade.

“Okay,” he nodded.

They tumbled out of the cart a minute later. They knew that wasn’t the end of it. Finch was sure he wanted to marry Albert, but there was more to do. They needed to get to know each other more and finish college and meet each other’s families. They weren’t at the end yet, but this was a damn good place to start.

They walked back to the dorm with hands intertwined. No matter what happened next, Albert knew this was the start of a beautiful life.

0000

He was right, too. He and Finch got married six years later, after college. Never had there been a better couple, better friends, or better lovers. They had grown into the most badass and unstoppable team.

They drove away from their wedding with cans tied to the back of a golf cart.

0000

Again, happy holidays and seasons greetings, @kathreestars. Hope this is everything you hoped for. Best wishes, Corbin.

#Newsies!#newsies secret santa #for @kathreestars #gift exchange 2020 #redfinch #Albert Dasilva/Finch #college AU

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anothersillyfanblog · 3 years

Text

Earth On Hell

This is my Sanders Sides gift for @marsupials-of-mars for @sanderssidesgiftxchange!!! Basically all the sides are demons, hanging out in hell, but one of them (wonder who) is a teeny bit more chaotic than the others. (P.s I am gonna post on ao3 in a few days as well btw.) Btw I’m not great at tags so mega apologies if it still slipped through sorry.

Hell.

Lunch breaks round here weren’t boring- there was plenty to see and do in hell- it had just kind of reached a point for Janus where most of it had already been done. Hence why, no matter what his colleagues in the eighth circle said, there was something interesting about sitting down with this chatty little demon and watching the human flesh blister.

“Y’know what I think?” the younger demon, Remus, casually asked. Janus sighed. “I try not to.” “I think that everyone who ends up here is dumb.” He tossed a rat into his mouth “All you gotta do is act nice and suck up to the big daddy in the clouds- that’s it! Easier than boiling babies!” “No,” Janus raised his eyebrows. “Because it’s based on the nature of your soul not what you do.”

“Well that ain’t fair! What if you can’t HELP dreaming of torture and carving hearts into carcases (or whatever these idiots got in here for), like it’s in your pretty little head from day uno?” He wagged his finger at Janus. “They could never do anything wrong in their entire life but get sent here for naughty thinking… seems a lil shitty to me.” “Well apparently they can ‘repent their sins and get eternal salvation’.” Janus revelled in the other guys’ confusion for a moment. “Say sorry a lot and it’ll be ok.” “Ohhhhhhhhhhh right. Oh yeah ok.” Remus nodded. “Seems a bit suspicious, are you sure that’s a thing?”

A couple of screams got louder, and Janus turned to see a scrawny horned demon carrying a bucket and biting his lip. He had his arms comically wrapped all the way round it- an ugly neon yellow bucket with a ‘warning’ label (because hell needs health and safety standards)- and he was edging towards a nearby cliff.

“Hey Virge!” Remus called out “What’cha doin?” “I…” the horned demon tipped the bucket over the precipice as the screams intensified “…am adding a couple… of new souls… to the… whirlwind.” “Come get lunch, Virgil! It’s rat day!” he grinned, holding up a rodent “Also didn’t Pat tell you to do that like, a week ago?” “Yes but I’m also a dumb bitch.” Virgil sat down next to Remus. “Who’s this?” he glanced awkwardly at Janus. “I-” “HE’S my friend from the EIGHTH FUCKING CIRCLE!!!” Remus interrupted. “That not being the eighth circle of fucking, though it might well be…” “It’s not.” Janus clarified. “Yeah, I didn’t think it was.” Virgil smiled “I’m Virgil. I work with him under Patton? Second circle so-to-speak.” “Oh yeah I know the guy.”

Patton was the overseer for a lot of things in the lower levels. Not really a specific tier, or a specific expertise, but if you spent any time in one-five then you at least saw him. Most people ‘above’ him were aware of him in a general sense. Janus had met him twice? Three times? Yeah, if you counted bumping shoulders at the river Styx that one time, then it was three.

It made sense that Remus and Virgil worked for Patton- a lot of the younger demons did these days.

“UGH doesn’t everyone?” Remus whined “He is annoying!” “He’s your boss.” Janus observed. “Yes, and he’s annoying! I say we, I dunno, set fire to his ass or something…” Virgil shrunk into his seat “He’s our boss? Also he isn’t in charge of everyone, he has a boss right…” “Yeah, but uh…” Remus clicked his fingers “We were saying weren’t we?” he looked at Janus. “No. Whatever you think we were saying, we weren’t.” “People shouldn’t get here for wanting to do crimes!” he clapped his hands “I think we should break everyone out of hell.”

One week later: Hell

Work hours, naturally. Janus was trying to process new souls but honestly there was no signal and his tablet just wasn’t working.

“And they say eighth circle is an enviable job…” he tapped the screen “I- I’ll be with you in a moment, sorry about this.” He said to the guy in line to be thrown into the pit. “No, no, take your time.”

Finally, the sound of footsteps approaching! Janus looked up and smiled. “Ah, the tech guy! Yeah, there’s no service on this, so if you could-”

“Where’s Remus?” Janus smiled a little “Excuse me?” “Which circle can Remus be found in?” the tech guy kept his face stern (if he was the tech guy) “I know you know him.” “I’m working right now, or trying to, so come back when I’m not and then we can talk.”

The tech guy ripped the tablet out of Janus’ hands.

“Where can Remus be found?” “He isn’t an important demon-” “Lower tiers…” “Not what I mean, I meant you shouldn’t need him.” “But I do.” “Why?” “Irrelevant, just tell me where he is located.” “Well forgive me for thinking you’re going to hurt him, but I think you’re- you know- going to hurt him.” “Falseh- it’s inconsequential, I must find him.” Janus paused. “Fix my tablet, please. I believe you.”

The tech guy looked momentarily confused before realising what Janus meant and doing so. “Second circle, every time I’ve seen him.” Janus said “Is… is he in trouble?”

“Not with me, negative. I do not have the influence to get many people into trouble. As for the future…” he sighed “I would advise you to keep your distance from him, though that’s my observation.” He left off towards the exit of the tier.

Janus grimaced, looking at his now-working tablet.

“If it’s any consolation, it probably won’t affect you.” The guy in line said, making Janus jump in surprise. “Shit! I need to get all you processed, I am gonna get in trouble.” He smiled at the guy who now frowned. “Okay name and age at time of death…”

One month later: Hell

“Where’s-” “Remus?” Patton interrupted. “we’re dealing with it.” Janus chuckled “Will anyone down here actually let me finish a sentence?” “Of course, my apologies- what were you going to say?” “Where is Virgil?” he smirked. “He works in your general bracket, right?”

Patton breathed in sharply. No one had seen Virgil since Remus had started (conveniently) quietening down, and Janus knew it. Everybody knew it. His work tallies were still placed in- by who, nobody knew- but the second circle was widely lacking in Virgil.

“He’s doing some work on…” Patton’s eyes darted round rapidly “admin. He’s working on potential field experience up there, needs to put in the admin first.”

Janus raised his eyebrows, looking up towards the Earth. “The thing is, Pat, I’m Eighth circle. I specialize in fraud- you know what that is?” Patton nodded. “Deceit, Patton, lies. And every day suave fuckers queue up trying to tell me why I have ‘the wrong circle’ or why ‘they should get special treatment’ and guess what, Patton? It’s always bullshit.”

He stared straight at the other demon. “I have been doing this for too damn long to not have the fucking right to tear the throat of anyone, ANYONE, who dares to be as lousy as you at lying to me. So don’t ever tell me that Virgil is doing admin, FUCKING ADMIN, because no one here will believe- or miss- you.” He sighed. “Let’s start again. Where’s Virgil?”

Patton swallowed “I…”

“Do you not know?” Janus asked, “This will go a lot better for you if you just admit that you don’t know.” Patton shook his head “Not exactly, no.” he whispered, “We’re not sure where he is.” “Not sure or don’t know?” “We know he’s in hell… we know that, we’re aware of him but not where.” Janus pinched his forehead “Okay so out of all the nine circles of hell, you have no clue, none. Lovely.” “If Remus would co-operate…” Patton muttered. “If I would what now?”

Ah yes, Remus. Walking cheerily towards them, smile slightly wider than ever, living his best life. Of course it was most likely that he had been questioned on Virgil’s whereabouts, given their activities during the past month-or-so, but Remus had decided to ‘calm down’ now and had ‘no idea about anything that anyone was doing’. Or so he had said to Janus.

“Patton! You already know I told ya everything about Virge, didn’t I?” he grinned. “Of course, don’t doubt it.” Patton said, as if he were lecturing a child. “And you got all your silly little friends to stand down which was very good of you.” Remus clapped his hands. “Yes! I did that!” “BUT!” Patton wagged his finger “I think you may have forgotten places that Virgil could be- or things you knew about Virgil.” Remus gasped in shock “Oh no!” “We want to find him, you want to find him. Let’s do this together please.” Patton nodded towards Janus. “Isn’t that right?” “Huh?” Janus smirked “Oh yes, working together. Of course.” Patton smiled again, then turned to leave.

Remus groaned “Ugh, what an annoying piece of poop! Wanna feed him to a pack of rampaging squirrels!” “Where’s Virgil?” “Up your butt!” Remus laughed, “Just kidding, don’t check, I have no idea.” Janus nearly prayed out of sheer frustration. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Remus, unholy shit.” “Okay, okay!” he giggled. “So I might know… but I can’t tell you.” “Why?” Janus asked, confused, “You think I’m going to run to Patton?” Remus looked down “Well, Logan says you shouldn’t be involved in-”

“You’re still working with Logan? You said you’d told them to stand down…” Remus chuckled “You believe that?” “Well, no,” Janus admitted, “But I…what the fuck are you planning?” “Eh, just a little bit of trouble…” “What you did already was a ‘little bit of trouble’- hell, it got your supervisors’ attention, so actually it was kinda a bit more than that.” Janus explained. “I made a group?” “A militia.” Remus threw his arms up “Well, we barely did anything! Pat WAY overreacted!” “Not… if you’re actually planning something he didn’t.” “So you are on his side?”

“I…” Janus looked away. “I don’t want this going south. For you, Virge, us. That’s the bargain you make when you leave heaven, to look out for you and yours. Get what is considered ‘best’ down here.” “But what if what is ‘mine’ is…” Remus looked wistfully at the hurricane of souls swirling around them “Never mind. See you around!”

He made his way off towards the offices where he worked, leaving Janus listening to the winds scream for mercy.

One year later: Hell

“Here.” Janus held out a bucket of blood that spat angrily at both of the demons, “from management.” Roman didn’t look up. “Chuck it in, before they get too comfortable.”

Janus peered down at the bubbling lake, almost glad to see that some parts of hell hadn’t changed that much. He poured the new blood in and watched the souls writhe- no hope of Remus for this lot. Though somehow, in some corners, they screamed out his name. How? Patton had nearly torn his horns off the first time he’d heard it, because how? How could they know about him? And that was the problem when the fresh blood was added and the screaming began anew.

What they screamed for.

Roman rolled his eyes “I’ve never wanted them to stop more…” Janus scoffed “You should see Patton, he has lost it.” “How so?” “Apparently,” he began, “He’s been inventing and subjecting harsher tortures for any souls who mention his name- or the others.” Roman chuckled at this “Well! Woe betide any gossip outlet, then…” “He’s getting them shut down, I think.” Roman gasped “His higher-ups can’t approve of that- right?”

Janus raised his eyebrows “His higher-? Roman, after the whole, well, you know… after Remus did all that, his only higher ups were a couple of folks in what used to be ninth circle.” He looked to the lake of blood. “Now? I don’t think some of them would even challenge him…”

“Oh.” Roman smiled. “How long’s that going to last?” “What?” “Patton- in charge? Until things are figured out, right?”

At this Janus started to laugh. He kept laughing and laughing till Roman joined in then realised it just wasn’t funny because it never had been.

“Forever.” He scowled. “He’s going to stabilize and reorganize the layers he has, take back the ones he doesn’t, put the souls back into torment, then execute the demons. All of them. Remus, Virgil, Logan, Remy, ALL OF THEM WILL DIE. Painfully. And then! He will rule over hell forever.”

“That’s a bit cynical.” “Well EXCUSE ME-” “No, I just thought- being an ex-friend of Remus- you might’ve been more cheerful.” Janus bit his lip. “We weren’t friends because we were even remotely similar. We were friends because I was bored, work was boring.” “Okay, makes sense!” Roman smiled. “So we’re all gonna end up working under Patton (if we aren’t already) and it’s gonna be aaaahhh ooohh not good very bad?” “Little bit more than that, but yes.” “Ah so more painfully terrible every moment we’re awake?” “Yeah.” “Hm… why not leave?” Roman casually asked. You know, casually.

Janus scoffed “Because of the whole dying thing?” he gestured wildly “I can’t go off on my own; I don’t stand a chance, I can’t repent; you have to mean that shit, and I can’t go with Remus and his crew because- because…” he looked down “I’m sorry Roman but the reason I never got too involved in the first place is because what he plans just isn’t going to work. He can’t win- he’ll die, and if I get involved then I will too and the point of all of this,” he spread his arms round “Is so you can look out for yourself, so you don’t have to be selfless and give up everything for someone else. Why do I have to be ashamed for not wanting to be a martyr?”

“I… you don’t.” “Exactly” Janus snapped. “If you truly believe that this is what’s better,” Roman added. Janus whistled “No, that’s…” he shook his head “Anyway. Whatever happens, they can’t be faulted for trying.” “No, absolutely not! Wait we are talking Remus and-” “Of course I’m talking about Remus’ lot.” Roman nodded “Ah, well yes- I agree. They’ve done a surprisingly competent job, all of them.”

They both paused for a moment. “It’s because they have the tech guy.” “It’s coz of the tech guy.” Roman agreed “I mean it’s not like the rest of his crew can’t organize things, but…” “It’s the tech guy.” Janus concluded “I hear he orchestrated the ‘Virgil plot’.” “Exactly!” Roman exclaimed “and that was wow, just impressive as anything (if you don’t mind me saying), like- hiding Virgil for that long to steal that many souls? If they don’t win it’ll be a little depressing.” “It’ll be more than that.” Janus smiled solemnly.

“It’ll be the end of life as we know it.”

Ten Years Later: Italy.

“Virge!” Janus could hear someone calling outside of the cavern “can you get that thick ass over here, please?” That ‘someone’ was probably Remus. “Janus, that includes you too!” “How does ‘Virge’ include me?” he called back. “Don’t question the king of crimes!”

Reluctantly, Janus stood up and wandered out to the frosty mountainside. He grimaced- the cold bits of hell had never been his favourite, even when they flaunted ‘coveted positions’ and such. Still.

“You want a coffee?” Remy asked. “Please.” He gestured over to a nearby hut “The coffee machine is right there, honey.” “But I never get the ratio right…” Janus pleaded. Remy chuckled and sipped his drink “Girl, that just ain’t my problem!”

“Janus!” Remus grabbed his arm suddenly and yanked him away “You sexy motherfucker, I called you an AGE ago! Now come on!” “Right, what do you need?” “Emotional stability…” Remus placed his hand on his chest “Just kidding! So basically, the waterpump’s broken (but Logan’s “dealing with that”), we received word that Patton has guns now- so we need better defences just in case- and also Patton has guns so yeah. Can we have those please?” Janus’ eyes widened. “Ok so is Patton-with-a-gun confirmed, or a rumour? Because hell basically never deploys projectiles.” “Are you sure I can’t be used as a projectile?” Remus half-spoke aloud “Yeet me at them.” “You’re getting distracted.” “Oh. Yes, it’s confirmed. One billion percent.” Janus pinched his forehead “Well, somehow I doubt that statistic, but okay. Let’s work on anti-gun strategy, defence, etc. because it is possible they’ll get hold of unholy projectiles specifically for us.” “Why can’t we get guns?” “Maybe one day, but if you actually think I trust you with a GUN-” “Fair point”

“Um, I was called?” Virgil was stood in the snow, watching them talk. They both jumped. “Yeah like, FIFTY YEARS AGO!” Remus cried. “Oh I’M sorry, look I did show up- it’s just I didn’t want to interrupt…” he trailed off. Janus smiled. “That’s understandable.” “That’s understandable.” Remus mimicked “Ooh, whatever, we were just chatting! No rules on chatting! Also what are your thoughts on guns?” “I think we should focus on hiding for now…” “BORING! Guns?” “Let him speak” Janus warned. Virgil looked down “I mean, our last skirmish went well, and we are getting more to join… but right now I think we should focus on what we have. And that advantage is mystery. Let’s keep it.” “Ooh mystery! Spooky!” Remus wiggled his arms. “No, I get what you mean.” Janus nodded “Like how you got so many in the beginning because they were intrigued, people will talk if we stay off the map for a while.” Remus tutted “Oh, you. Being sensible.” He frowned “We’ve been lucky, haven’t we? To live?” Janus smiled “Like this? Absolutely.” “Yeah, we should go under. Be sneaky! Recruit people who aren’t dicks and so on.”

Logan agreed with the idea for once, which was probably because it was Virgil’s, but also he stated: “We have already been living ‘both figuratively and literally underground’ so it makes an appropriate amount of sense to make this an officially secret place of dwelling.”

He also agreed with Janus’ gun-plan. This, of course, being that they focus on defence and perhaps work on getting weapons of their own in the future. Though he was a little heavier on the “no gun-wielding-Remus” stance, stating: “On no condition can he be allowed a gun, none. Others in our company- fine. I will trust from the upper-most generals to the smallest child amongst us with a projectile, but never Remus. Oh and can we consider adding Remy to that list?”

Janus didn’t bother to question the part about trusting children with guns, he simply nodded and got to work on defence, sometimes smiling at Remus as he did.

And it didn’t matter what anyone was or wasn’t doing, Remus always grinned away.

One Century Later

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ptergwen · 4 years

Text

starting at the end

warnings: nope

summary: peter takes you to a new year’s eve party

a/n: hey hi i hope everyone’s christmas was lovely if you celebrated! this is gonna be my last post of the year which is so ??? i just want to say thank you for reading my work and in general being so sweet to me always. i really do appreciate all of you and i’ll talk to you next decade! and as always enjoy <3

—

peter is nervous. not that that’s anything he isn’t used to; being nervous is one of his personality traits. but this kind of nervous? it’s different. it’s the kind of nervous he gets only because of you. the amount of butterflies he has right now makes him feel like he’ll burst into millions of tiny pieces the second he sees you. he just really wants tonight to be perfect.

flash is throwing a new year’s eve party, and peter asked you to be his date. he’d been working up the courage for months now to ask you out. what convinced him to finally do it is that it’s the last day of the entire decade. he doesn’t want it to end without you knowing how he feels. now or never situations always give him the push he needs.

peter’s day is spent getting ready. he has may teach him new dance moves, calls ned for last minute tips on flirting, and does his hair the way you like it. you told him once before that his curls are “too pretty to drown them in so much gel,” then used your fingers to fix them. ever since, peter decided that would be his new hair style.

never having been to a new year’s eve party before, he texts you at some point to ask what he should wear. you’re pretty much his personal sylist. he brings you shopping basically every time he goes. it makes him all blushy when you watch him try on clothes, getting him to do a spin in them. peter always thinks the smile on your face is worth it.

you text peter back saying to dress how he usually does and rememeber to be at your apartment at seven, with a smiley face. his heart practically pounds out of his chest when he looks at the time and sees it’s a little past six thirty. your first date is happening so soon.

wanting to wear something you’ll like, peter ends up choosing a blue and white flannel you picked out for him. he throws on the rest of his clothes and shoes, then checks his hair one last time. may hugs peter and asks him tell you hi for her before he leaves to pick you up.

the walk to your apartment doesn’t take too long, which peter loves, except for tonight because he’s freaking out and has to keep wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. he goes over all ned’s advice while taking the stairs. when he makes it to the front door he’s been through so many times he can’t count, he just stands there. he uses the time to give himself a mental pep talk.

you got this, peter. it’s just y/n.

taking a breath, he knocks on the door. your dad opens it shortly after.

“hi, mr. y/l/n. how are you?” peter shakes the hand your dad extends. they’ve met a few times before. from what peter can tell, he likes him, or at least doesn’t mind him. “i’m good, thanks. how are you?” “i’m good, too. is y/n ready?” your dad glances back into your apartment. “i’ll check. do you want to wait inside?” he gestures for peter to come in. peter nods.

“sure. thank you, sir.” he follows with a small smile. peter hears you listening to a playlist he made you from your room. his smile gets even bigger at that. “y/n? peter is here,” your dad calls from in front of your door. “i’m coming!” the music shuts off, followed by fast footsteps. you spot peter right as you open the door. all of his nerves melt away when you make your way over to him.

you’re one of his best friends, what was there to ever worry about?

“hey!” you open your arms with a grin. peter dips down to give you a hug. “were you just listening to back in black?” “yep.” you tug at the bottom of peter’s flannel. “is this the one we bought you last weekend?” “mhm,” he hums proudly. the exchange makes your dad crack a smile from where he’s watching.

“you look... really good, peter. did you do your hair, too?” you bite your lip. the fact that you noticed makes him happier than probably ever.

“i thought you’d like it.” he offers you his (mostly dry) hand. taking it, you lace your fingers together. it’s not your first time holding hands, but there’s something new about this. a good new. “and you look beautiful, y/n.” “thank you,” you giggle. “we should probably go. wouldn’t wanna keep dj flash waiting.” peter laughs and nods. you turn to face your dad.

“bye! i’ll try not to be back too late.” “have fun, and stay safe! you too, peter. i’ll see you next year.” he waves goodbye. you wave back with your free hand, peter doing the same. the two of you leave your apartment, erupting into another short fit of laughter.

“dad jokes,” you sigh. you’re leading the way down the stairs. “that was nothing compared to the ones may makes. she says hi, by the way.” may is the sweetest. she’s always checking up on you. “aw, tell her i say hi back.” “yeah, of course.” peter gets more comfortable holding hands with you like this, running his thumb along the back of yours. it just feels right.

walking outside and into the windy night, you pull your phone out of your pocket. “flash texted me his address. i can navigate.” you wave your phone around to show peter the screen. “go for it. i have no idea where he even lives,” peter chuckles. you click your tongue at him jokingly. “oh, peter.”

there isn’t much to talk about on the way to flash’s apartment, since you and peter have hung out or facetimed every day of your winter break. the two of you communicate mostly by making weird faces at each other and pointing out random things that you see. as navigator, you also have to stop peter from walking in the wrong direction a couple of times. he doesn’t know where he’d be without you. literally.

it’s obvious which apartment is flash’s without even going inside the building. there’s blasting music and colorful lights showing from where you are. “i don’t know how we’ll ever be able to find flash’s place,” you say sarcastically, peter opening the door. “it’s almost like he doesn’t want us to,” he jokes.

you hold peter’s hand tighter as you two skip up the few flights of stairs it takes to get there. giving each other knowing looks, you both step inside.

“y/n and parker! you’re here!” flash leaves his dj table to greet you. he looks down at your intertwined hands. “guess i won’t be getting a new year’s kiss from you, huh?” your mouth drops open, you pushing flash’s shoulder. “get out of here, flash.” “i would, but i actually live here. gotta go queue up requests. you two lovebirds have fun!” he winks and points at peter before walking away.

“we will,” peter says just to you, laughing at your moment with flash. “he’s so...” “out there?” he finishes your sentence. “that’s one way to describe him.”

taking your other hand, peter tilts his head towards the crowd of people. “dance with me?” “god, yes.” a smile lights up your face as you pull peter further into the room until you two disappear into the crowd. peter twirls himself around you with your hand, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “not bad, peter.”

“thanks. may actually taught me how to dance a little bit.” he’s too pure. you put your arms around peter’s neck and move in closer to him. peter’s arms hug your waist. “really? what other moves did she teach you?”

peter dips you suddenly. you let out a small gasp, your breathing getting heavier as he holds you in place. he looks from your parted lips to your eyes before bringing you back up. “damn. can may give me a lesson sometime?” the two of you laugh breathlessly. peter moves his hands to your hips and sways you both. “if you’re serious, she definitely would.” “i’m so serious.”

you and peter spend so much time jumping around while flash plays the hits of the decade through his speakers. the only time you take a break is for snacks and soda, then it’s right back to dancing and singing along. you never want to leave peter’s arms. he never wants to stop holding you.

as it gets closer to midnight, flash puts on more chill songs. your head is resting on peter’s chest with your arms around his torso. he’s looking down at you, pulling you closer by your waist and moving you side to side slowly. “i’m really happy you asked me to come with you.” “me too.” peter gives you a tired smile.

“i was gonna ask you out myself if you didn’t ask me first.” “you were waiting for me to do it?” “yeah, peter. i like you a lot.” you close your eyes, sighing in content. “i like you even more,” he murmurs and closes his own eyes.

“one minute to midnight!” flash announces before either of you know it. people start scrambling to find who they want to be with when the year ends. you and peter stay right where you are. all you need is each other.

the one thing peter forgot to do was plan if and how he would kiss you. he doesn’t want to freak out and ruin the moment, so he tries to think of what may would tell him. something about not thinking at all. everybody is counting down from ten now, you included. peter just watches you.

“three, two, one, happy new year!” he hears. you’re about to say something, but peter’s lips on yours stop you. you kiss him back instantly, him leaning into it. you both pull back after with huge smiles. even though it didn’t last long, it was everything you’d ever hoped for. “what’s your new year’s resolution?” you yell over the noisemakers and cheers of people around you.

“to ask you to be my girlfriend,” peter surprises himself and you by saying. you take a step back to see him better. “that’s a dumb one.” peter’s nerves come back just like that. did he say the wrong thing? is he moving too fast? like you can read his mind, you peck his lips and hold his hands on your waist.

“resolutions are supposed to be goals you haven’t accomplished already.” he’s pretty much in shock at this point. “are you... are you saying you wanna be my girlfriend?” “i’m saying i really wanna be your girlfriend.” peter kisses you again without a second thought.

who would’ve guessed that the year ending would be the beginning of everything else?

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marmolady · 3 years

Text

Growing Pains: Part Three

PART ONE PART TWO

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. For Liv and her mothers, Taylor and Estela, a turbulent period of transition is afoot. Set primarily in the distant future of 2033.

Word Count: 5678

More Liv fics here: Livita, Teething Problems, Milestones and Memories, Mutual Comfort, All That Matters

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn, @mrsmontoya, @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @quinnkellys-wife, @greengroove

La Huerta, 2033

The sun slowly began to set, and a cool breeze came in from the sea. The reunion was in full swing, and Taylor, had found her way poolside, the traditional centre of all activity. The energy all around her was wonderfully refreshing after all the time she’d spent hiding herself away from the world; the sounds of the most familiar of voices as her friends caught up with one another, therapeutic. She was far too much of an extrovert to isolate herself; she knew that now.

Sitting down at the bar, it only took a few skilled flourishes of bottles before Raj was handing her a signature drink.

“It’s been a little while since I’ve had one of these,” she laughed. The joys of pregnancy. Worth it, but she’d be lying if she wasn’t a little relieved it was all over in time for the reunion. “Mm, that’s fruity! And just the right amount of kick to it. I say this every year, but you really do know me.”

“Another happy customer at the BhandarBar? You know there’s nothing I’d rather hear!” Raj beamed. He came around the bar and sat beside Taylor, sensing a need in her. “I feel like we haven’t hung out in ages-- last time I saw you, you had a baby on board. How has life been treating you, Taylor, my friend?”

“Oh, you know. My whole body gearing up for looking after baby, and then trying to tell it ‘no, that’s not what’s happening, here’; that’s been a bit of a challenge. My mood swings have been epic. I know she already did deserve one, but christ, Estela deserves a medal. Liv as well. I swear I’ve been like a walking hormone or something.”

“Well, if you need someone to lay it all on….”

He didn’t even get to finish. Taylor had her arms around him, hugging him tight. Where the tears were coming from now, she didn’t quite know. Maybe it was just a release of everything she’d been carrying these past months. But come they did, thick and fast.

“That’s it, bro. Let it all out. I’ve got plenty of shirts if you get boogers on this one--”

Taylor spluttered, laughing until she made herself choke and cough. “I don’t even know why I’m crying! That’s just me right now. A little bit useless.” Well, if you talk like that, you’re gonna be sobbing all night.

“You? Never. We have witnesses! You are definitely not useless. You just need a bit of Taylor Time right now. You’re allowed to take some Taylor Time.”

“For how long?” Taylor sighed. “Liv’s only nine-- sorry, nine and three-hundred-and-sixty-four days. That distinction is important to her. But she needs me. My body’s all geared up to be a mom, but with Liv I feel like I just can’t do anything. Some days I couldn’t even get out of bed.”

“Trust me. I’ve had those days. You know I’ve had those days. And listening when your mind and body need a rest isn’t a bad thing. If Liv was feeling the way you were, what would you have her do?”

Taylor pouted. “Who told you you could use my double standards to pep talk me? Fine! I’d tell her to be kind to herself. Every time.”

“So. What are you going to do?”

“Be… kind to myself,” Taylor said begrudgingly. Damn you, Raj. I can’t argue with that logic.

“We’re going to home-school Livi. For a year, use that time to reassess where we want to be in life. I’m a little nervous, but… I like that I’m going to be more proactive in her life. I’m glad I had Michael; having him was one of the best things I’ve ever done, but I want to be able to put my energy into Liv, and Estela, our little unit. Mostly, I’m excited. I am so, so ready to feel like a mom again.”

“Aw, Taylor-baby, you always were. But I getcha, sometimes you kind of lose a part of yourself in all that life throws up. And whatever life wants to throw at Liv, you guys got her back. She’s done all right for herself with you two.”

Exhaling, wiping away those stupid tears-- hadn’t she cried enough?-- Taylor nestled into a warm hug. Raj was a talented man, but no more so than in his ability to make everything feel all right. Together, her family had weathered many storms, and their bond would carry them through any still to come.

_____________________________

La Huerta, 2027

A resounding crack of lightning had Liv dive under the blankets, shaking in her Batman pyjamas. To her, it felt as though the storm had been raging for hours. Never had she heard the sky sound so angry. She burrowed under her Mama Estela’s arm.

“Mommy, it’s so loud,” she whimpered.

“I know, mija,” Estela said gently, stroking her four-year-old daughter’s hair. “But it can’t hurt us in here. Our house is strong and safe.”

The creaking of wood in the wind made Liv nervous. If the house was safe, why did it have to complain so much? Was it trying to scare her?

“It’s okay, Livi-sweetie,” Taylor soothed. “We’re all gonna sit this one out together.”

The family trio were sharing the big queen-size bed, Liv tucked up snuggly between her two mothers. There had been no talk of attempting to settle Liv in her own room; she was distressed, and that meant she could take security in the maternal bed.

As the howling wind became a frightening roar, Liv whined softly. At the foot of the bed, the little dog, Fenix, was sleeping soundly. Fenix didn’t have the best of hearing, which on this occasion struck Liv as quite lucky. The cat, Madam Mierdita, seemed more grumpy at the disturbance than frightened, growling and changing colours with every scary rumble.

“Hey, Liv,” Taylor said cheerily, hoping her easy tone would lessen the tension, “Knock, knock!”

Liv peered over the covers. Was now really the time? She’d humour her silly Mama Taylor. “Who’s there?”

“Europe.”

“Europe, who?” Liv asked, then her eyes went wide and she gave a shout of laughter. “Ha! You’re a poo, Mama Taylor!”

“No, you’re a poo!” Taylor chuckled. Saved, once again, by some good old fashioned toilet humour.

Estela rolled her eyes and shook her head exaggeratedly. “Oh, cariňa, you blow me away with your comedic wit.”

“Yeah!” Liv affirmed enthusiastically, apparently still oblivious to the art of sarcasm. “It was super funny!” She flinched at another crash of lightning, but didn’t hide under the covers.

“Well, my fan club, here comes another one!” Taylor smirked at Estela’s dramatic groaning. If it eased Liv’s fear, they could and would do this for hours. “Why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?”

“I dunno, Mommy. W-why?” Liv asked, her voice wavering as a rumble of thunder seemed to shake the very earth. But if the world was ending, it would surely wait to hear the rest of Mama Taylor’s joke first.

“To get to the bottom!”

On queue, Liv squealed with laughter. “You said ‘bottom’!”

“You know, Taylor, I’m sensing a theme here.”

“Hey-- toilet jokes aren’t my favourite, but they’re a solid number two!”

“Dios mío! Why do I feel like I’m in for a long night?” Estela reached to tickle Taylor’s belly, which served to push Liv ever deeper into her giggle fit. She could never adequately express just how grateful she was that their daughter had that gorgeous dork to see her through the scary times. Don’t you ever change, mi amor.

The storm raged on. Cocooned together in their humble sanctuary, the small family saw it out-- or at least, Taylor and Estela did. Liv nodded off amid the thunder and the lightning, the wind and the rain… safe in her mothers’ arms.

_______________________________

La Huerta, 2033

“Livi-- be careful!”

“I am careful!” Liv hollered down from a towering palm tree. She had everything under contro--

There was a thud, and the squeak of breath being forced from Liv’s lungs as she hit the ground hard.

“Ow.”

Taylor rushed over, but her view was quickly blocked by young Isla, who had gotten there first.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not hurt, Isla. See?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

“Can you move all your arms and legs?”

“Yes!”

“On a scale of one to ten--”

Taylor cut in, feeling simultaneously relieved and incredibly fond of her friends’ little nurse in training. “Thanks, Isla, sweetheart. I think we’re good from here. Right?”

Liv scowled and jumped to her feet as if nothing had happened. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“Oh, Livita, foiled again by your old friend, gravity?” Estela laughed from her comfortable spot on the beach. She’d seen Liv through enough bumps and scrapes to know when there was nothing to worry about.

Taylor snorted, and ruffled Liv’s short hair. “Gravity’s a bitch. Try and respect her in the future, okay?”

Gravity wasn’t just a bitch. Gravity was Liv’s nemesis. A literal pain in her ass. Someday, Liv had decided, she was going to get a pilot licence like her Uncle Jake. That would teach bloody gravity.

A yell distracted Liv from her plotting.

“Hey, Livia! Livia!” Reggie hollered as he pelted up the beach. “The big tortoise came back! Diego said we can feed him! Quick!”

That got her attention. The past two years, the mighty Shore Guardian had lumbered into their midst during the reunion, and it had been an incredible thrill. In an instant, she was off and running.

“Liv, when I say to be careful…,” Taylor started.

“I know!” she called over her shoulder, “ Actually be careful. But you know I’m not scared of some old Shore Guardian, right?”

The tortoise was colossal. Built like a tank; the peak of his pyramid-like shell reached the height of a man. It had come as an immense relief to everyone when the creature started appearing on La Huerta’s shores, that he was of a docile and placid disposition.

“Helloooo there, Shelly!” Liv called, clambering up and over the rocks, a bunch of glowing flowers in her hand. “I brought you a snack.”

“See,” Diego said from his perch, overlooking the beast, “I told you he’d come back. He’s pretty smart. He must know that the reunion happens every year, and that the reunion means kids bearing flowers. I think you’ve started something, though-- the Vaanti kids are all over this guy when he hangs near Elyys’tel.”

“He’s less scary than the yeti-bear. I like the yeti-bear, but Mom and Mom say I’m still too young to give her a pat. Do you think I should make friends with the Sea Guardian next?”

The Sea Guardian was rarely observed. It was something like a plesiosaur with scales all the colours of the rainbow, and even after more than a decade since Cetus’ demise, it seemed as though the monster was only gettng larger. Sighting the beast was something of a badge of honour for young Vaanti, with the bolder among them daring to touch its back-- some even managing to take loose scales when the beast was shedding. There had only been a few serious injuries over the years, but the practice was largely frowned upon-- especially by those old enough to remember Cetus’ wrath. If there was one thing everyone agreed upon, it was that they did not want another Cetus.

Diego chuckled nervously. “Better stick to old Shelly. He appreciates your friendship.”

“Yeah, Livia, you should look after the friendships you’ve got,” Reggie said, huffing and puffing as he came over the ledge. “It’s not like you’ve got many.”

“Hey!”

“Was I insensitive again?” he asked sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“A little,” Diego said. “Why don’t you come closer and feed Shelly with Liv?”

Reggie eyed the hulking beast. “No… no, I’m fine just watching. A good scientist never interferes with wildlife. You know Jane Goodall used to feed chimps bananas? But that was like… years and years ago. Now we know that is not the best way to science.”

“Whatever, Reggie,” Liv laughed, “but don’t cry to me when I’m Shelly’s best friend.”

Down on the sand, Liv could feel the enormous presence of the giant tortoise as he towered over her, sniffing.

“Good boy, Shelly. You wanna flower?”

Diego watched her, ready to swoop down and pull her to safety if the beast appeared bothered. “Good job, Livi. Nice and slow so you don’t freak him out. Like… like you’re Hiccup and he’s Toothless.”

Liv chuckled, and peered into Shelly’s mouth as it gaped open to take a flower. “I think he is toothless.”

“Yeah, but I bet his hard mouth could break all the bones in your hand!” Reggie piped up.

“Shelly would never,” Diego assured. “He knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him.”

The tortoise gave a rumbling grumble of pleasure as he swallowed a flower.

“How have you guys been recently?” Diego probed, keeping it light, but knowing that life had recently been a rough ride for the kids. “I heard Maia moved schools; that kind of sucks. She was pretty great.”

She was pretty pretty, Liv thought, though she kept that to herself. “I’ve been really sad and lonely. But it’s all better now-- we’re all back here! No mean dumbasses. I wish Maia didn’t have to leave though.”

“I decided I don’t like getting in fights,” Reggie said. “I am now officially a pacifist. But… I guess I’ve gotta make exceptions if people are gonna say stuff about my sisters. They’re only little. They can’t stand up for themselves.”

“Better stick to fighting with your words, Reggie,” Liv said with a little smirk. “I have never seen such a weak-ass punch in my life….”

“Hey, I did pretty good!”

“If I hadn’t jumped in, they’d still be mopping you off the floor now,” she laughed.

“Well, maybe I’m better at more important things, like actually using my brain! You should try it sometime.”

“Okay, okay,” Diego intervened. “Easy, kids! You don’t want to freak old Toothless out.”

Liv looked up at Shelly. He was calmly chewing on the last flower she’d offered him, not batting an eyelid at the raised voices.

“Tio Diego,” she murmured. “Can I tell you something? And Reggie-- you can know too.”

“Of course, you can, Liv.”

“Well… it’s kinda… embarrassing. But I know you won’t laugh. Not when it’s important. I like liked Maia. I thought everyone would laugh at me if they found out I had a crush on a girl. I know it’s not something to be ashamed of, but I was still… too scared.”

“You’re telling us now-- that takes a lot of guts,” Diego told her. “It is scary. You never know how people are going to react. Most people are pretty cool these days, but it only takes one mean person to make you feel sad and small.”

Liv climbed back up onto the rocks to sit by her uncle’s side. “Yeah. Some of the kids already teased me about my moms. I thought there would probably be at least one mean person.”

“That’s fair,” Reggie concluded. “I mean, you’re probably right. If they were jerks about Erin, probably they wouldn’t be any nicer to you. They already think you’re kinda weird.”

Diego put an arm around his niece, and she leaned close. After all these years, he could always tell when she needed a hug. “Coming out and showing yourself to the world should always be on your terms. If you didn’t feel ready, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. It means a lot that you feel comfortable enough to share with me.”

“Of course! You’re my tio. I can tell you anything. Even the things that are just silly and annoying… you listen anyway.” Liv sighed, and threw down her last flower to the great, lumbering tortoise, who scarfed it down eagerly. “I’m sad that Maia is gone. I thought eventually I’d be brave enough. I can be brave with stuff like protecting people who need help, but feelings are harder.”

“Feelings can be the absolute hardest. But we’re on your side, whenever you’re ready to share them. Me and Varyyn, and Reggie, and your moms. Your moms are so proud of you, you know? Being sensitive and caring can be tough, but those feelings are what make you strong. Your Mama Taylor told me you’ve been helping her get up every day when she’s been feeling really down. You make a difference-- a good one. You don’t have to be brave enough for everything all at once.”

“Thanks, Tio. You’re smart. No wonder you wrote like, two whole books. All teachers should be as nice as you.”

“Well, I do my best. And in the end, that’s all you really can do. Do you remember from Cinderella? ‘Have courage, and be kind.’ I’d say you’re both pretty good at that already.”

______________________________

La Huerta, 2031

Seven-year-old Liv reached out her hands to a stricken bird as it flailed in distress. The sound of it being slammed against the window of the house by a larger, more aggressive foe had made her all but jump out of her skin, but if something might be hurt, she had to get over her fright quickly and help.

“Hello birdie…,”she cooed. Her fingers gently stroked the feathers on its back. It stopped flapping, but its breathing was laboured, as if it was struggling for air. Blood had risen from its eyes and nose. “It’s okay… I’m a friend.”

Gently, Liv scooped the wounded animal into her hands and cradled it, crouching over the grass in front of her home.

“Tio Diego! Varyyn! I need help!”

Of course, her uncles came running. They were never far away when tasked with keeping an eye on her; by now they were too well aware of her propensity for wandering into mischief not to be.

“Livita, are you okay--”

“Tio, she’s hurt. I think she’s gonna die. This great big bird got her and hit her against the window.”

Diego was pretty sure Liv had heard the talk about not touching wild animals, especially if they were injured and likely to lash out, but the reminder could wait. One look at the bird told him it was not long for this world.

“She is dying,” Varyyn confirmed, sadly. He exchanged a look with Diego. “It’s very sad… but we must make sure she doesn’t suffer.”

Liv sniffed. It wasn’t fair. This little bird used to hang around their home, foraging in the garden Mama Taylor had grown. They liked hearing her singing and calling to the other birds.

Varyyn squeezed Liv’s shoulder. “We’ll give her a minute to see if she fades away on her own. Do you trust us to do what’s kind for your friend?”

“Yeah… but I don’t want to leave her. I think she’s less scared with me holding her.”

Diego put an arm around Liv. “That’s good. You’re making her feel safe. Everyone deserves that. Just keep talking to her, okay? Hopefully, she’ll go peacefully.”

“It’s okay, birdie,” Liv whispered. “You’re not alone now. You can go to sleep.”

The bird gave a few more rattling breaths, then was still.

“Tio Diego… I think she’s died.”

“Yes, she’s gone, mija. You did amazing.”

Liv wept, held by her uncles.

“Death is always hard,” Varyyn said gently, “even when it’s kind. You always feel the hole where there was once a life.”

“S-she shouldn’t have died! She wasn’t hurting anyone… o-or doing anything wrong… she was just in that other bird’s way.”

“I know. It sad, and it’s not fair at all. But you made her last moments so much better; that counts for a lot. Everyone dies sometime… all you can hope for is that you go feeling loved, and you made that happen. It’s like… the circle of life. Nature can be really cruel, but that doesn’t take away the good bits. This little bird probably helped lots of plants spread their seeds.”

“Yes. Even if your friend’s life was short; it had great value.”

Liv raised her head, eyes wide. “Her body becomes the grass, right? Like Mufasa said? She’s got to at least get to be part of the circle of life if she can’t live anymore.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s pretty much how it works. If we leave her body somewhere nice where it won’t be bothered, she can feed the earth.”

“Okay. I wanna do that, then.”

A sombre procession carried the little broken body to the edge of the meadow. Liv laid the bird beneath a bush and draped her body with a fallen leaf. Then, she sat and looked over the resting place of her friend, tears filling her eyes. Varyyn was right; already there was a big empty hole. An echoey feeling right in her heart. Liv would miss hearing the bird’s chirruping as she played around the garden with her Mama Taylor. Hopefully, she’d remember that, not just this sad, sad feeling… of knowing she couldn’t protect an innocent, of seeing a life fade to nothing. Mama Estela told her that was important. That nothing should ever take away what was beautiful about something or someone once they’re gone.

She got to her feet, brushed off the dirt from her hands, then slipped one into Diego’s.

Bye, bye.

__________________________

La Huerta, 2033

“Penny for yours?”

Estela sat down beneath an old familiar banana tree, settling beside Taylor, who appeared to be a million miles away.

“Oh… I was off in my own world, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, it looks that way. But you looked happy.”

“I am. Just being here has been a breath of fresh air. I feel like I’m me again, and it’s been a long time coming.”

Estela gave a contented hum and rested her head on her wife’s shoulder. “I’ve missed happy Taylor.”

“Well, thanks for sticking by and waiting out for her. Happy Taylor appreciates it.” Taylor chuckled at the sound of Estela’s quiet laughter. It was infectious. Hell, just Estela’s smile was like the embodiment of sunshine, it made coming out the other side of her dark cloud all the more glorious. “I think we’ve got our Livi back. Or I think we’re on the right track.”

“I know we are. It’s been a slow decline… I don’t think I even realised how miserable she’d gotten until I saw her snap back to how she should be.” Estela shrank in on herself. What excuse did she have? She had one job; to keep that kid happy. She didn’t have a war to contend with, or the struggle to get by between pay-checks, and she still couldn’t manage it. “I should have done better. I’ve been trying… I’ve been trying so hard… but somehow I couldn’t make everything better for her. Or you.”

“Don’t you even think about it! No.” Taylor pressed a fierce kiss to Estela’s temple. “We hit a few bumps in the road, that’s all. I wasn’t counting on an intense case of the baby blues… or what might actually have been full-on post-partum depression. The timing was unfortunate; really, it sucked. But you carried us through. When Liv got suspended and I couldn’t fucking stop crying because I just couldn’t handle it, you did handle it. You’re pretty great. Ask Raj; he gave me a magic pep talk earlier, I’m sure I could rope him into a repeat performance.”

“Thank you. You’re good at putting things in perspective, I’ll give you that. I know I set my bar too high. Just because Liv has her struggles, doesn’t mean I’ve failed… it means she’s a human being. And that’s probably what we were aiming for….”

Taylor giggled. “Godammit, my otherworldly influence has been foiled!”

“Actually, while we’ve got a chance to talk… I was speaking with Aleister earlier.”

“Yeah, I thought I saw you two hanging out.”

“Well, it seems like we’ve inspired him and Grace. Reggie’s not going back to that school next year either. It sounds like Livi’s gonna have a homeschooling buddy here on La Huerta!”

“Oh, wow! Ohmygod, that’s perfect! It’ll be just like old times; almost half the gang back home again. And… and the girls? Are they waiting a year, or are they going to teach them as well?”

“You’ll have to ask them, but it sounds like they’re going to get started with Erin and Immy. It’s going to be so good for Liv.”

“Yeah. Really that’s… that’s wonderful. God, I’m so happy right now!”

Estela found herself laughing. Her dork was back. She took Taylor’s hand. “And then, moving forward, Aleister says they’re considering a permanent move to San Trobida-- obviously under the assumption that we’ll be heading in that direction ourselves.”

“Oh my… holy crap!” Taylor flung her arms around Estela and hugged her tight. Something in her knew right away… yes, that’s right. That’s where we’re all meant to be. That gut feeling overshadowed any qualms or fears. “Tio Nicolas is really not gonna know what’s hit him, hey?”

“No; and I think it will be a dream come true.” Nestled in Taylor’s embrace, the scent of her mingling with the La Huerta sea air… it was, to Estela, the very essence of happiness. The excited yells of children at play had her look up over her lover’s arms; there was her Livita, piggybacking little Erin through the shallows while the terror, Immy, sent up wild splashes of water at their faces. It was time to try something new. For them.

“Aw, ‘Stel, just look at them!” Taylor snuggled in, a giddy grin on her face. She needed a change, and she had a feeling that for her, for Estela, for Liv… it would be a step towards their best lives. The year to come, and even beyond that, was to be a thrill ride of the most exhilarating kind, and they’d take it on hand in hand. She exhaled her fears and sadness, and let the wind carry them away. “I really love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too, Taylor. Forever.”

_____________________

Midnight over the Celestial. Or rather, two minutes to midnight. The countdown to Liv’s tenth birthday was on, and the kids-- save for the two little ones who’d long been in bed-- were just about hanging onto the non-grumpy side of overtired.

Ten years. How could that even be? Taylor could see the years in her face and Estela’s, but it still could have been yesterday that they were interrupting the festivities with the announcement that… ‘uh, I think baby might be coming’. What had followed was a period of some of the most intense hours either of them had lived through, a culmination of two lives’ dreams and emotions. And at the end of it, Taylor had found herself holding in her hands the second love of her life. Her sunshine. As children do, Liv grew. She’d tested her mothers, putting pressure on their weak points and making them stronger. She’d brought them closer, something Taylor wouldn’t have believed possible… but sharing their daughter’s journey was like watching a miracle unfold; to be touched and changed was inevitable.

Michelle joined Taylor, a knowing look on face as they watched Liv’s impatient jiggling.

“Crazy night ten years ago… my one and only midwife job.”

Taylor chuckled. “Crazy, crazy night. The best night of my life. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop thanking you for getting us through.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome. Ten years on, it’s stuck with me. It’s amazing to see the young woman she’s growing into. I’m not going to lie, I’m proud of my small part in putting her in the world.”

That change was coming so fast. The transition from that rosy-faced bundle of cuddles into a bright, opinionated adolescent was going to be underway in no time at all. Even now, looking at that giggling ten-year-old, it was hard to imagine.

I’m going to embrace every moment. Every one. You, me, your Mama Estela, we’re on this adventure together. And I can’t wait to see where it takes us next.

Estela put her arms around Taylor from behind, smiling into her wife’s shoulder.

“Is it my birthday yet?” Liv asked, bounding over to them.

“One minute, mija.” She tugged Liv into the hug and covered her forehead in kisses. “Come here!”

The cake was unveiled, and the small girls, Isla, Erin and Immy, erupted into ‘ooh’s, while Liv did a dance in her mothers’ arms. Her family around her sang, all together, celebrating her milestone, and she knew belonging. She looked up to her mothers and grinned, face aglow with candlelight.

The future was bright.

#endless summer #estela x taylor #playchoices

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calling-the-angels · 4 years

Text

Tagged by my long-lost-and-found mutal @merthurlocked 💛💛

🍓 what do you prefer to be called name wise?

I have had many many nicknames, but Katie is the one I usually tell people to go with. I’ve been called Kath, Kate, Kay, Red (red hair) and many more.

🍓 when is your birthday?

April 15th! wish it was the Ides of March, cause you know how funny that would be?

🍓 where do you live?

Minnesota, which is in the Midwest region of the US. It’s a pretty dope state.

🍓 Three things you are doing right now?

1) updating my tumblr queue because i started a bad habit of adding things as a draft instead of finishing my tags and queueing it up. 2) adding some more to my “planned” 15-chapter Witcher/Marvel AU. 3) watching the birds at my bird feeder go through ANOTHER 40 lb bag of seed in a week and a half, there are so many finches my goodness... BONUS) stressing about my job cause the next few days just got very very busy... i’m here to procrastinate and also calm down

🍓 four f*ndoms that have piqued your interest right now?

Witcher is holding almost all my attention right now, but I’m still reading Marvel fics and following that content. I thought about jumping back into Destiel recently, but I haven’t seen Supernatural since, jeez, season 11 maybe? Whatever that pirate show is also has me curious, cause i mean... pirates!

🍓 how is the pandemic treating you?

not solid my dudes, not solid at all. but hey, I started therapy for the first time ever so that is something?

🍓 song you can’t stop listening right now?

Boy in the Bubble by Alex Benjamin, it’s got a cool beat and style to it

🍓 recommend a movie.

Night at the Museum, i love that whole series so much

🍓 how old are you?

22 years old, and i’ll probably be here til i’m old and gray now!

🍓 school, university, occupation, other?

i was gonna say recently graduated, but i graduated in december and that... isn’t recent?? man, this year is kicking my ass... i work at a local TV broadcast news station as an assignment editor!

🍓 do you prefer hot or cold?

cold cold COLD. me and heat do not mix, partially cause i hate being sweaty and also because my hair hates humidity. my favorite season is winter, so...

🍓 name one fact others may not know about you.

i really dislike seafood. i live in the center of the US, we have no sea near us, that food is NOT fresh

🍓 are you shy?

hell no! i’m actually pretty loud, it’s a problem... although the situation kind of dictates how friendly i’ll be?

🍓 what are your pronouns?

She/her

🍓 any pet peeves?

i mean yeah a few, but the one i always go with is when people say “i could care less” when they mean that they don’t care at all... like, you are saying that you care at least a little bit because you could care less, do you understa--

🍓 what’s your favorite “dere” type?

i have no idea what this is, but found this chart? i guess the deredere?? I haven’t watched anime since 8th grade, but I liked Fairytail and Ouran High School Host Club back then

🍓 rate your life 1-10. 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be.

because i refuse to be negative, I’d say about a 6. Could be better but I’m not starving or homeless or ostracized from my family or friends or anything. I’ve got a job, etc.

🍓 what’s your main blog?

this one. saved this url for far too long to give it up

🍓 list your side blogs and what they are used for.

i have a sideblog from a college assignment to post for 15 weeks on an environmental topic, but i don’t use that anymore. otherwise i don’t really have sideblogs? they confuse me.

🍓 is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you?

i tend to think the best of people easily, and i’m not afraid to call people out when they do shady stuff?? idk some people don’t like that, i’ve found. i think i’m pretty naive when it comes to some parts of life so *shrug*

i am tagging: @aegir-emblem @swords-n-spindles

#i am going to be so sporadic the next few days #ugh job why do you have to be so stressful #tag game #katie speaks too #convos with katie

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angels17324 · 5 years

Text

The Violet Paladin (Keith x Reader) Ch. 7

Word Count: 2286 Update Schedule: Every Monday [Masterlist] [Prev] A/n: Hey guys I opened my Ask Me Anything so feel free to ask me questions about this, myself or anything you’d like to know. Also today I’m taking my real estate exam so probably by the time this posts from the queue I should be done and hopefully passed anyways onto the story!

It was the following morning and everyone was in the infirmary we were all just staring at Lance who was still in the pod.

"I can't tell if he looks healthy or not," Hunk quizzically said.

"I think he's breathing weird," Pidge said with her nose pressed up against the glass.

"Oh come on!" Keith complained wanting to open the pod.

"Not yet, just a few more ticks," Allura slapped his hand away.

"What the heck is a 'tick' anyway?" I questioned I've heard them say it a few times but still hadn't figured out what exactly it meant.

"A time slice," She replied.

"You mean like a second?" Shiro asked.

"What's a 'second'?"

"Like this," Pidge pulled out a timer showing seconds.

"I think ticks are bigger, Coran do you have a ticker?" Allura asked.

"Right here, Princess," He pulled out a 'ticker' everyone gathered closer to watch.

"I think ticks are slower," Hunk commented.

"We have to start them at the same time," Pidge and Coran started the two timers.

"I think we're winning!" Hunk shouted excitedly.

"Winning what? The intergalactic time measuring competition?" Keith questioned.

"Yes," Hunk replied.

"Are you guys having a Clock party?" Lance asked.

"Awe Lance- Wait, Lance you're okay!" Hunk hugged the Cuban boy.

"What happened?" He asked.

"We can tell you all about it while you get something to eat," Allura placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Talking? Eating? Are you asking me out on a date?" He asked her.

"Yep."

"Classic."

"There he is."

"He's okay." Everyone sighed.

After he got dressed and at some food, he seemed a lot better.

"Wow. Thanks, everyone," He smiled then turned to Keith. "Sounds like the mice did more than you did," I sighed here they go again.

"I punched Sendak!" Keith shouted.

"Yeah, after I had emerged from a coma and shot his arm off," Lance said.

"We had a bonding moment. I cradled you in my arms!" Keith shouted.

"Nope! Don't remember didn't happen."

"Even I was there Lance. It happened," I interjected.

"Now, I do remember you being next to me," He said flirtily.

"So he does remember he just refuses to admit that you two were actually nice to each other." I glanced at Keith.

"So, what about Sendak?" Lance asked.

"He's in a cryo-pod we're keeping him here in the castle," Allura informed him.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Lance asked.

"He's too dangerous to be roaming free," Allura told him. "Besides we might be about to get some useful information about Zarkon,"

"So what's our plan now?" He asked.

"We have to get back to the Balmera and save Shay and her people!" Hunk demanded.

"Wow. You are really hung up on this lady," Lance commented.

"No! It's not that," he explained how they'd been under Zarkons rule for a long time, and how he had destroyed their home. "This is what being a paladin is all about, it's time to man up!" He seemed to have ignited a spark in everyone.

"Well let's go, time to defend the universe," everyone began to walk out.

"Wait," Pidge called out to everyone. "I have something to say first," we all turned to look at the young teen. "I need to come clean about this, and I'm afraid it might change your view of me. Just so there are no secrets between us anymore. I can't 'Man up' because I'm a girl... I mean I can 'man up' because its a figure of speech and you don't actually have to be a man," Lance seemed to be the only one in shock.

"Wha... You're a girl?! How?!" Lance shouted.

"I've known for some time but I'm glad you came clean," Allura said.

"Yeah, I figured," Hunk said.

"Yeah me too," Keith smiled a bit.

"Wait, we were supposed to think you were a boy?" Coran asked.

"Pidge, owning who you are is going to make you a better paladin,"

Lance turned to me since I had been quiet thus far. "Aren't you shocked?" He asked.

"Nope, I've known Pidge for her whole life basically. There's no secret she could keep from me even if she wanted and vise versa."

"I'm glad to finally have that off my chest. Now let's launch this Castle-ship!" She ran out of the room.

"Wait, Pidge is a girl. And the castle is a ship? How long have I been out?" Lance asked.

"Amazing how much you can miss in the span of a day," I chuckled to myself before joining the others. After getting into my paladin gear everyone was in the control room and walked to the respective seats. I didn't really listen to the launch as I was too focused on wanting to understand everything on the screen in front of me. I glanced up to see that Keith turned his head away from me as soon as our eyes met. Strange...

Soon after everyone got up and gathered together while Hunk started talking about the plan for the Balmera.

"So, when we get there, what do you think? Do we just start blasting? Or do we land and have some sort of public address system, like, 'Attention Galra this is Voltron turn yourselves in'? No, wait, Blasting right?" He looked at everyone.

"Calm down Hunk," I tried to smile at him.

"Yes, Hunk Blasting," Keith said.

"It's our first big rescue mission he's just excited," Shiro commented.

"Excited to see his new girlfriend~!" Pidge teased.

"She's not my girlfriend," He defended, now he knew how Pidge and I felt. "She's just a rock I happen to admire very much."

I was about to join in on the teasing but an alarm started to go off.

"Are we being attacked?" Shiro asked Coran.

"No, it seems to be a distress signal,"

"It's coming from a nearby moon," Allura informed us. "Apparently a ship has lost power,"

"I wonder who it is?" Pidge inquired.

"Well they're just gonna have to wait, Shay has first priority, they're just gonna have to wait,"

"The Paladin code says we need to help all those in need," Allura told him

"Wow, this is so cool. It's like we're space cops on space patrol. Hey, Coran, do we have a siren we could turn on?" Lance asked.

"No, but I can record you making a siren noise and broadcast that to them,"

"Perfect!" He cupped his hands over his mouth.

"No, Not doing that," Shiro thankfully stopped him. Soon after we landed and everyone except Coran left to help the other ship.

We were met with three people a guy, a girl, and a robot. "You don't know how happy we are to see some friendly faces. People aren't exactly willing to jump in to help someone on the run from the Galra," the guy said. "I'm Rolo, that's Nyma, and that's our cyber unit, Beezer." Looking behind me I saw both Lance's and Pidge's eyes light up as they leaped to greet the two.

"So was your ship damaged in battle?" Shiro asked Rolo.

"Yeah, and parts aren't exactly easy to come by we barely made it here," He explained

"Well, you won't be fighting alone anymore. You'll have the paladins of Voltron by your side," Allura told him, he glanced back at Pidge and Lance who were both still obsessing over the other two.

"I don't think he's heard of us," Shiro said.

"Well, it has been ten thousand years," Keith said.

"No, I think it's more of those two don't exactly instill a whole lot of confidence for us," I pointed at Pidge and Lance.

"Well, let's start working on that ship. I'm sure we all got places to be," Hunk hurried us along.

"Sure," Rolo smiled. He opened the side of the ship, "our whole flaxum assembly is shot. I don't know what extra parts you carry in your rig,"

"I'm sure we can get you back up and running," Allura assured him. Rolo printed a list off of Beezer and handed it to Hunk before wanting to join and help find the parts.

"I don't think so," Hunk put an arm up.

"Hunk, don't be rude," Allura scolded him.

"Yeah Hunk, there are ladies present,"

"I don't know about you guys but the last time we let our guard down the castle was nearly destroyed and Lance you almost died,"

"He's right," I said.

"Sorry about that Rolo," Shiro apologize.

"No, I get it you gotta look out for your own," He said. Hunk returned to the ship and while we waited we listened to Rolo tell us about his life.

"Okay, I got the parts... you know to get your ship running," Hunk said, but Allura asked Rolo another questioned.

"This sector belongs to a nasty general named Sendak," he explained.

"We've met," Keith said with disgust.

"Hey, I think you guys are keeping Rolo from working," Hunk pleaded again.

"Alright," Rolo got up and started looking through the parts, I turned to Keith when Shiro walked over to Hunk.

"Guess you don't know how to help either." He said.

"I was my team's engineer but I'm pretty sure anything I do know is out the window," He just chuckled. I smiled and glanced around, "Hey where-" I watched the blue lion leave the castle. "Nevermind..." You sighed.

"Lance..." Keith groaned.

"I'm gonna go save Beezer before Pidge gets any crazier," I got up to walk to the youngest member it was a slight struggle but I managed to pull her off the poor robot. "Come on Pidge," She pouted.

"I'm just playing with Beezer," I chuckled before Rolo called out to Beezer to co-pilot.

"Well, he sure seemed to want out of here in a hurry," Everyone sat around waiting.

"How many ticks have they been gone for?" Pidge asked, probably wanting to see Beezer again. Lance has been gone a while too, now that I think about it.

"I don't know," Shiro said.

"Guys! Help!" I heard Lance shout.

"Lance?" Everyone put on their helmets "Lance? Where are you?" Shiro asked.

"Chained to a tree... and Nyma and Rolo just stole the blue lion." He said.

"Where are they?" Shiro asked.

"...Space," He said sheepishly.

"I KNEW IT!" Hunk shouted the whole way to our lions all we heard was Hunk complaining about how he knew it.

"Okay, we get it!" Everyone shouted. we flew after Rolo and Nyma as quickly as possible. Finally, we caught up to them but they flew into an asteroid belt.

"We'll never get through that," I said.

"Maybe I can smash through." Hunk tried... it didn't work...

"Keith, you and red should be able to make it through,"

"Right," Keith flew in after them.

"See you on the other side," Pidge said as the rest of us flew around, after a few minutes we were able to stop and corner Rolo taking back the blue lion.

"Hey, Lance, I got your lion back!" Keith said I could feel him smirking through the speakers.

"That's great but can you untie me?!" He shouted.

"Huh? What was that? You're cutting out," Keith laughed, I smiled it's nice to see everyone really is getting closer.

After towing Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer back to the moon the whole group stood in front of them.

"Well now your ship really doesn't work so you'll just have to wait here for rescue," Keith told them.

"Thank you for sparing us." Rolo looked down.

"Now that these guys have been dealt with let's get to the Balmera and save Shay and her family," Hunk said... again for the god knows how many times today, I really wanted to meet Shay now to know what girl got him this crazy.

"You may not believe this but I really do hope you stop Zarkon. It was a lifetime of fighting the Galra that lead me to where I am today." Rolo looked up at everyone. We went back to the castle.

"Hey Allura," I called out to the Altean.

"Yes, (Y/n)?" She asked.

"Can I talk to you alone for a minute?" I asked.

"Of course." The two of you waited for the others to leave. "So what's up?"

"Well, normally, I would have gone to Pidge to talk about this but one, I don't think she'd really know how to help and two, I feel like it'd be weird asking a younger friend for help in this matter."

"Go on what is it?"

"Well, I have these feelings... and I don't know how to really explain them. I just know that after actually getting to know him I've never felt like this for anyone else before,"

"Wait do you perhaps like someone?" She asked with a gleam in her eyes.

"Maybe I shouldn't talk about it..."

"No, please tell me, I want to help." She said.

"Alright... fine, I guess I do like him... more than a friend..."

"Who is it?" She asked.

"Uhm..."

"It's not Hunk is it?"

"Oh, no, he's a big teddy bear, plus I really want to meet this Shay girl." I smiled.

"Lance...?" She asked.

"No." You deadpanned.

"Then that leaves Shiro or Keith." I guess I must have made a face before she guesses. "It's Keith!" I covered her mouth quickly.

"Could you be any louder?" I asked sarcastically. "Please don't say anything," I asked her.

"I promise," she smiled. "You two might be good together too,"

"Well, let's go rescue Hunk's lady," I smiled.

Third person POV

Unknown to the two girls, a certain Cuban boy overheard the last half of the conversation. He smirked ever so lightly determined to tease his two friends... and maybe help them get together.

[Next]

Tag List~ (As a reminder this is still open lol) @somebodytouchedmysaeran @ittie-bittie-tittie

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seenashwrite · 5 years

Text

The Cupid Complication

Word Count: 5.2K Category: Humor, Fluffersnark, Romance, Friendship, Behind-the-scenes canon compliant, Holidays, Valentine’s Day Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, You, a Cupid Pairing(s): Be surprised - stop wanting to know the endings at the starts, my loves Warnings: None Author’s Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day! More post-story Overall Summary: During the Valentine season this year, complications arise for you & the Winchesters due to a cupid who could use some more practice at her job. A lot more practice. A *supreme* amount of practice.

The slow, methodical rapping sent a sharp, scolding noise into the air each time fingers hit desk.

THRRRUMP

Sinking lower into her seat, the cherub waited as her supervisor finished scanning the report.

The high-ranking angel behind the desk closed her eyes. The rapping stopped. She brought both hands up, now rubbing her temples. She sighed.

The cherub gulped.

"On your latest mission, your first arrow hit a statue, then your second, a tree, before successfully striking a human target upon your third attempt.”

"Y-yes, ma'am."

“To be precise, with the third, you managed to hit three of them.”

"Uh... yes, ma'am. That’s funny, huh? But it only nicked the woman, I don’t think she was affected. See, what happened was----"

“None of which were the assigned targets, that's what I'm to understand?”

"Well, yes - I mean, no - I mean, yes, ma'am."

"Octavia, I've repeatedly instructed you to not call me that."

"Yes, m.... Okay."

“Can you tell me why it is that we’ve navigated all the drama that is constantly plaguing heaven? Why we remain celestially adjacent?”

“Because we bring love to the world?” Octavia guessed.

“Because we - along with the muses and the reapers - specialize in the three things that will always be: life, death, and relationships. Those three things cannot be stopped, no matter how great a power may try to do so. They just are. And what keeps things running smoothly amidst all the chaos?”

“Being good at our jobs?”

“Are you telling me, or asking me?” the supervisor snapped.

“I’m… I’m telling. That’s why.”

“That is why. We coordinate. We make sure the looms of the fates have nothing time-sensitive in store for our targets. We cross-check that they aren’t in the reapers’ queue. It is a finely-tuned machine. It is a flow. It is a rhythm. And you, Octavia, have continued to disrupt that rhythm, despite your missions being limited to the month of February, the easiest, the simplest month on the calendar for making matches.”

Octavia hung her head and picked at her glittery pink-polished fingernails.

It did not go unnoticed.

“While I have you here - I’ve let it slide, but your appearance----”

“You told me I couldn’t be invisible except when I’m firing my bow! I’m trying to be festive for the season!” Octavia interjected, and was met with a stern look.

“If you hadn’t materialized when you were marking that poor woman’s heart and grabbed her breast right there in the middle of that coffee shop----”

“I wasn’t grabbing!” Octavia again interjected, and it was met with an even sterner look. “It was a really soft sweater,” she mumbled sheepishly.

“That righteous ruckus, I remind you, is what got you downgraded back to arrows. And now I find myself wondering what to do with you, if you can’t even manage what new recruits seem to execute with accuracy!”

While her supervisor began adding notes to the sizable file on Octavia, the cherub caught a glance of herself in the mirror on the wall behind the desk. She thought she looked the part - her style was cheerful, and when she was visible and surveying, it made people smile, and she didn’t care what her co-workers said, not about her heart-patterned shirt, or the shiny red shoes, or the nail polish, or her hair.

"It's pink!" they’d cried.

Octavia disagreed. Regardless of her form - big, small, skin tone, eye color - she always had wild, curly red hair. And not of a hue typically seen in nature; less ginger, more actual red. Actually, burgundy. Actually, it was possibly on the pink end of things. Fine, it was pink. But only in certain lighting. Besides, her clothes were needed - being naked was uncomfortable what with the oft-chafing quiver, so the clothing may as well match the hair - and besides that, Octavia was fine with the whole being-more-visible-than-not requirement. She liked being able to get to know her targets; even though the intel was always spot-on, it made her heart swell to know for sure she was making a good match.

They just didn’t understand. Most all cherubs - the cupids, at least - were less than enthused about Valentine’s Day, and Octavia couldn’t imagine why; after all, it was the holiday of love! And hopefully it was not spent alone, not if she had anything to do with it, despite the fact that Octavia herself often spent it alone. She didn't have many friends... really, she didn’t have any friends. And so, her companions were her targets. And she loved them, all year ‘round.

Octavia was shaken from her thoughts when the file was slammed shut, and her eyes met the steely gaze of her supervisor once more.

“Your targets have been reassigned. You have a new assignment, which - if you succeed - means I won’t transfer you to…. to…. Oh, I don’t know where, but you’ll be gone. Do you understand?”

“Ma’am? I mean, what? What is it? The assignment?” Octavia asked, nervous.

Her supervisor leaned across the desk, pointing a finger. “You are going to fix this.”

“How?”

“Think, Octavia. Who saw her first? Which of these----" A pause as the file was opened and papers were shuffled, followed by a huff when the sought information couldn’t be found immediately “----humans saw her first?”

Octavia blinked, not following.

“The woman! You say she was only nicked, and if that’s true, you must focus on the other two - so Who. Saw. Her. First?”

"It seemed both of them at once. They do lots of things in unison. It’s kind’ve weird."

“Then I suppose you’ll have to figure out how to untangle this weird one by weird one. You have approximately twelve earth days - I want this done by sundown on the 14th. And without the bow, I don’t want to hear of any more stray shots.”

“But then how do I----”

“Fix it.”

“But if you don’t want me to----”

“FIX. IT. Dismissed!”

Octavia stood, held out her arms for the customary goodbye handshake, but when the gesture was most decidedly not reciprocated, she slunk from the office.

After the door closed, the supervisor muttered under her breath as she dug around in her drawer for the small bottle of liquor she kept handy for such situations. Situations that most always involved Octavia. And as she sipped, she glanced back through the file. And then she blanched. And then she dropped her glass with a thunk onto the desk, causing the liquid to slosh across the paper, across the last names in the universe she’d have ever wanted to see.

CONFIRMED HUMAN SUBJECTS INVOLVED IN INCIDENT, FEBRUARY 1st

WINCHESTER, DEAN

WINCHESTER, SAM

~ Almost twelve days later ~ .

"Can you help me with something?"

I glanced up from my research at the sound of Sam's voice. "Of course," I said, removing my glasses. "I need a break, anyway."

In the kitchen, there was a small box on the table, wrapping paper, tape, scissors, and a ribbon lying next to it. And there was crumpled wrapping paper on the floor. A lot of crumpled wrapping paper. I looked from it to Sam, amused.

"I keep getting one side right, then the other side comes out all uneven when I fold it," he explained. "And forget the bow, I wasn't even gonna try."

"No worries, I got you," I told him, and plopped onto a seat. He sat across from me and watched as I picked up the paper and began to unroll it to judge the size. “So, is this for who I’m thinking?” I took a peek at Sam, caught the blush rising to his cheeks, and I grinned, having my answer. “You’ve been talking about her a lot since the last hunt.”

“Yeah, I guess I have,” he said. “I don’t know why, I just… started looking at her differently, you know?”

“Oh I know, and I get it, she’s great. And it’s nice to see you happy,” I said, about to lift the box - but then I stopped, met his eye. "Sam… this is leaking."

"What?"

I pointed to the moisture trail the box had left when I'd pulled it closer. "Did you... you didn't cook something, did you? I mean, that's fine, it's just we may need a different type of box, and no sense in wrapping it yet if it needs to be refrigerated, and----"

Sam cut me off. "I didn't cook anything - it's a chocolate heart."

We stared at each other for a moment, then stared down at the box, bewildered.

Which is when it jumped.

To be specific, it pulsed itself into the air, though only a tiny bit, shifting its position on the table slightly every time it came back down. Two successive plops, a brief moment, then it repeated. And it kept repeating. And it was on its fifth cycle before we came out of our shared daze, both putting our hands on the top to stop the movement. It vibrated under our palms.

“We gotta open it,” I said.

“What if it’s a cursed object?” Sam asked in response.

“Where the hell’d you get it?”

“Candy shop, same one that’s been on main street for forever, a little old lady owns it.”

“Witch, maybe?” I suggested.

We looked down as the box became a touch more aggressive in its pushback, the sides straining slightly - something thick was beginning to sneak out of the corners.

Sam shook his head, bewildered. “I dunno.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s pissed off!” I announced and, as if it wanted to confirm my assertion, the box managed to knock our hands away, sending itself clean off the table and onto the floor, where it resumed its original soft bum-bum… bum-bum… bum-bum...

“It’s beating,” Sam said. “The heart.” A pause. “I can’t give her that!”

“THAT’S your concern?!” I shouted, then took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, trying to quell my annoyance. “Okay. I’m opening it.”

“Wait! We should---” Sam began, but was interrupted.

“Hey, whoa - what’s going on, why’re you guys yelling?” Dean asked as he walked in, frowning.

The box performed its routine for him.

“Wow,” said Dean. “Never mind.” He looked to me. “I was gonna ask your opinion on something, but since you’re busy…”

I gave him a look. “You’re in this now, too, bud.” I dropped into a squat, did a mental 1-2-3 count, and took the lid off the box.

“Gross,” Dean said, his nose wrinkling. “I mean, cool, but gross.”

“That’s not what I bought!” Sam said, pointing down at the cool-but-gross.

It was an actual, for real, no denying it, right there, in the box, human heart, and it was pumping out a brown, viscous fluid with every beat.

“Is that….” Sam said, but trailed off, and he squatted beside me, then dipped a finger into the goo. He held it to his nose, sniffed. “I think it’s chocolate.”

“Lemme see,” Dean said, and now he squatted, too - then to our horror, he dipped his finger as well, and immediately brought it to his lips, giving it a lick.

“Dean!” Sam and I exclaimed.

“Mmmm,” Dean hummed, his eyes closing briefly. “Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff. Good stuff. Is the rest made out of candy?”

“No!” Sam and I exclaimed.

Dean’s face went pinched again. “Gross,” he repeated, then promptly stood and began walking to the fridge. “I need a beer.”

“’I need a beer’, he says,” I commented, shaking my head.

Sam and I straightened ourselves, still watching the heart pump-pump away, but we looked back to Dean at the sound of chuckling.

“You may as well give it up, brother. I got you beat. Heh. Beat,” he said with a smile, popping the cap off the beer.

“Beat at what?” I asked.

“Yeah, beat at what?” Sam echoed, and the look on his face and his stiff posture and the way he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes made me think he already knew what Dean meant.

“I mean, it’s creative, I’ll give you that - but chocolate’s not her favorite. Which you’d know, if you knew her as well as I do,” Dean replied, cool as could be.

It hit me then that Dean had also been talking about our hunter colleague an awful lot in the recent past, and it prompted me to ask, “Dean, what was it you wanted my opinion on?”

He swallowed a mouthful of beer, then replied, “I wanted to see what you thought about how my Valentine’s gift turned out.” Looking to Sam, he added, “Which I wrapped by myself.”

Sam looked like he wanted to smack the smug right off Dean’s face. “You did this!” he said. “You put some sort of hex on that heart - you’re trying to sabotage me!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to sabotage you, she’s not into you.”

Sam turned to me. “Years ago, over an autopsy, he passes me a human heart, just like that one---”

“No chocolate,” Dean pointed out.

“---and he said ‘Be my valentine’.”

“Dean... asked you... to be his valentine,” I said slowly.

“Not like--- that’s not--- it’s his sick sense of humor!” Sam explained. “And he’s doing it again! Trying to split us up!”

“Split who up?” I asked. “You’re not dating her! Neither of you are!”

“Not yet,” Dean said, still with the smug.

“What did you get her? Show me,” Sam demanded.

“Like I said, I got her favorite candy. C’mon,” Dean replied, setting down his beer and gesturing for us to follow.

As we walked down the hall to his room, they kept fussing, and as Dean was opening the door, I said, “You’re both acting really weird, I’m honestly getting concerned because---- good lord.”

A gift bag was tipped over on his bed, and what had to be dozens of worms were happily crawling around: on the bed itself, on the pillows, on the floor, on his desk, and - to his horror - over the stack of vintage porn mags on the nightstand.

“What the hell?!” he shouted.

Sam snickered.

The worms were fat, and glossy, and each segment was a color of the rainbow.

“Gummy worms?” I asked.

“Gummy worms,” Dean confirmed.

After a shared look - the same one we’d share during hunts when we knew it was time to cut out and regroup - we all left the room, shutting the door behind us.

“You believe me now? That I’m not sabotaging you?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Something’s up.”

“Finally!” I said. “We have to retrace our steps, figure out what caused this. Now, you two started talking about her on the way home after that hunt, I think, so----”

“Something’s trying to keep me from her,” Dean and Sam stated in unison.

I groaned. “No, that’s not it - it’s that something’s, I dunno, infected the both of you, to make you want her. You know, want-her, want her.”

“I’m gonna go see her,” Dean said, determination all over his face and in his tone.

“Not if I get there first,” Sam replied, equally determined.

When they both began to move to, I assume, race each other to the car, I stood in the way. “Stop, okay? Isn't she still up at Donna's, going over traps and sigils with the girls?”

Dean got a moony smile on his face. “Man, she's so freakin' smart.”

Sam went dopey, too. "Right? So smart. Smartest person we know, definitely."

“And the prettiest.”

“Pretty? She's gorgeous.”

“Totally the hottest chick we know.”

I raised my hand. "Hi? Right here, remember?"

Dean gave me an up-and-down. “You’re all right, you got nothing to worry about.”

“I’m. Not. Worried,” I said through grit teeth.

“And you’re good with the lore,” Sam offered halfheartedly.

“I know. Look, if you’re gonna go up to Donna’s----” I began, but they cut me off by going around me, headed toward the garage at what seemed like light speed. “I’m coming with you!” I yelled, hot on their heels, pausing only to snatch my jacket off the back of a library chair.

Thankfully, the road trip conversation was less argument and more fawning over the object of their mutual desire, and as much as I liked our friend, I got bored, which meant I got sleepy. In what felt like a blink of an eye, I suddenly found myself in the next county over from our destination. The slamming of the car doors had jolted me awake - according to my watch, they’d driven all through the night, the maniacs, and now it appeared a side mission had emerged.

We were parked in front of a liquor store.

It was surprisingly empty for Valentine’s Day, at least in my estimation. I’d have thought people would’ve been buying out the joint, last minute prep for their sappy candlelit dinners. I shuddered at the thought. That was me: Not Romantic, party of one.

When I entered, the gal behind the checkout counter gave me a polite smile and a small point in the direction of the refrigerated areas at the back of the store, to the only other occupants besides ourselves. But she didn’t need to - I’d heard them already. And it sounded like the most recent bout was about to hit a fever pitch.

“It’s the last one, and I got to it first!”

“Yeah, well I saw it first!”

Dean and Sam were yanking a bottle back and forth, and when I came up to them, I noted it was champagne. Pink champagne. I rolled my eyes, then reached in and snatched the bottle away, which earned me two dirty looks.

“Guys, I have a idea about what might’ve happened - is it possible this is a cupid situation?” I asked.

They both stared at me for a couple of seconds, and then smiles began to appear on both their faces.

“That explains it,” said Sam.

“It sure does,” said Dean.

I eyed both of them, suspicious at why they were pleased to hear my theory, but went on. “We should call Cas, see about doing a summoning spell.”

“We could do that on our own, I don’t wanna bother him while he’s spending time with Jack,” Sam replied.

I was instantly relieved - at least Sam was getting some sense.

“Why should we summon a cupid?” Dean asked. “If it is a cupid, that must mean I’m meant to be with----”

“Whoa, hold on,” Sam interrupted. “I’m supposed to be with----”

So much for sense.

Now I interrupted. “What makes you think either of you are supposed to be with her? Regardless, both of you can’t be meant for her! This is obviously some sort of mistake!”

Dean's lips curled into a smirk. “You jealous?”

My eyebrows shot up. “Jealous of what? Not being on the receiving end of leaky organs and creepy crawlers? Can we focus for a second? Back on the hunt, did you two see anybody that shouldn’t have been there? Before or after the salt and burn?”

“Nope,” Dean answered.

“Same here,” Sam agreed.

I sighed. “Me, neither.” I thought a few more moments, then asked, “Anywhere else? Anybody new? Anybody unusual?”

“Well, I mean… I guess the girl that sold me the heart was a little different. Different for Lebanon,” Sam said. “I’ve never seen her around town before, and I’d have noticed - she had pink hair.”

Dean nodded. “Uh-huh. Same girl sold me the worms. I’ve never seen her before, either.”

“Okay, so, pink hair - what else?” I asked.

“She was just… really Valentine-y. I thought it was just part of the sales shtick,” Dean answered.

“Yeah, her dress was patterned with these little lips, like kisses,” Sam said.

Dean gave him a look for remembering that piece of info, and I hid a smile.

Sam ignored him. “And she had a name you don’t hear often… it was Opal… Olive… Ophelia?”

Dean snapped his fingers. “No, no - it was, like, Octopus or something.”

“Octop---- Dean, what?” Sam said, exasperated.

I ran a hand over my face, looked skyward for a second, briefly turning over in my mind how my life had come to this point, then brought my eyes back to them. “Was it Octavia?”

They were mildly stunned.

“How in the hell could you have known that?” Dean asked.

“Because I’m a hunter, and I’m observant, and I’m not in some whack-a-doo crazy cupid coma,” I replied, and I sounded snide, because I was being snide. “I know the name because of the name tag.”

“I thought you didn’t see anybody at the cemetery,” Sam said, brow furrowed.

Dean frowned, as well. “And cupids wearing name tags? No they don’t, they’re naked. Where would they put it?”

“Oh my god, the stupid has to end,” I announced, and stepped behind him, grabbing his shoulders, shifting him so he was facing down the aisle, to the front of the store. I pointed. “Checkout girl? Up there? Pink sweater with white hearts? Pink-and-white striped skirt? Pink tights? Pink hair?!?”

At that moment, the shelves began to tremble - specifically, the shelves lined with the not-pink champagne bottles. Glass clinked as they bumped into one another. The ones stored upright tipped onto their sides.

And then they fired.

Corks shot out like bullets, and we dodged and weaved, getting popped here-and-there, but other than sticky, bubble-coated boots, we managed to get out of the store unscathed. And on the sidewalk, we found her. There, the cotton candy-colored cupid stood, fidgeting, a hesitant smile on her face.

We stared.

“H-h-hi?” she managed.

We continued to stare.

“I screwed up,” she admitted. “And unless I fix this, I’ll be kicked out of the cupids.” Tears sprang to her already shining eyes. “I don’t even know what other cherubs do! And I don’t want to, I’m a good cupid, I am.”

“Oh no. You suck,” Dean stated, and I frowned at him, gave him a sharp elbow, then looked to the source of our troubles.

“It’s Octavia, right?” I asked, glancing at the name tag.

She nodded. "I wouldn't lie, I promise."

I nodded in acknowledgement, and said, “Okay, then, keep that going. Tell us what, exactly, you screwed up.”

“I got the address backwards. I was supposed to be across town, not at that graveyard.” She paused, a contemplative expression coming to her face. “Now that I think of it, that isn’t a romantic place.”

“No,” Sam responded flatly. “It’s not.”

And then Octavia told her story, confirming what I’d guessed. “I thought all this would discourage you, but seems my arrows were more potent than I realized,” she finished. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. You mean so much to me. Every one of you.”

Dean and Sam and I looked at each other, all of us softening - we believed her.

“Octavia, what else can be done?” Sam asked. “Because I’ll be honest, all I want to do right now is tackle Dean and steal the keys and leave him in the dust and go to her.”

“Awesome. Let's see you try,” Dean shot back, eyes narrowed, fists clenching.

I looked to the cupid with what I knew was desperation on my face as I moved to stand between the lovesick idiots.

“I could use something else on my arrows—-” Octavia began.

“NO ARROWS!” the three of us shouted.

“—-but it should work if you use it on yourselves.” She pulled three small bottles from the pocket of her skirt, all filled with a shimmery red liquid that gave off a slight golden glow.

“So do they drink it?” I asked.

Octavia shook her head. “It needs to be applied to where I hit them - well, Sam can maybe drink his, but…”

“But what?”

“But… butt. I hit Dean in the butt, then it kind’ve curved up and hit Sam in the cheek. Not one of those cheeks, I mean----”

I held up a hand. “Stop, I got it.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “You’re--- you’re telling me it went through his ass then in my mouth?”

Dean leaned over, gripping his knees, laughing so hard he was gasping for breath in no time.

One of the bottles was smaller than the others, and after Octavia handed the first two to Sam and Dean, and they went back into the store to use it, she handed the tiny one to me.

“Give this to her, just in case. It’s for her arm. The arrow lost a lot of steam by the time it got to her, I think most of the juice was off it. Has she been calling a lot or did she show up at your place or anything?”

“Ah, that’s a big fat no,” I answered. “All the crazy has been with these two. Lucky me.”

“You are lucky,” Octavia said. “My aim is so bad, I could’ve hit you, too. Then two of you could’ve been mismatched, along with that other woman, and it would’ve been worse.”

“Yeah… worse…” I said under my breath, my mind wandering for a moment. I shook myself out of it. “Well, look - no harm was done. Maybe a few bruises from your artillery in there, but otherwise we just have some clean-up to do back on the homefront. The candy stuff was pretty genius by the way.”

Octavia blushed. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. And listen, I’m sure where you come from, they’ve got practice areas for shooting, right? That’s all you need. Hell, I had to practice every day for a long time before I got good at throwing blades. You’re creative, and you’re clearly passionate about your job. I don’t know what else heaven could ask for.”

A bright smile came to the cupid’s face. “Thank you. So much. I mean it.”

“So what’s on deck for you tonight, since you pulled this off? You gonna celebrate?” I asked.

“I don’t have any plans, it’s not like cupids have matchmakers, so… But I like being around love. I think I’ll hang out at that little restaurant around the corner, the people seemed happy there, and there’s paper hearts all taped on the windows, and I think I even saw some balloons. There’s no balloons in heaven.”

“Okay,” I said, and I smiled back, but I felt a little sad for her.

I didn’t have time to think on it for long - Dean and Sam emerged, and we all said our goodbyes.

The would-be paramour was packing up her car when we pulled up to Donna’s place, and after a brief round of rock-paper-scissors, Sam got the honor of explaining what had happened - a win or a loss, hard to tell.

But she was laughing through the whole story, and when it was done, she gave me a big hug, saying, “Bless your soul, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.”

I laughed, too. “Honestly, it wasn’t so awful. Plus, I get to bring this up every Valentine’s Day for years to come.”

“Great,” Dean said, not meaning it in the least.

“Do any of you have anything going on tonight?” she asked. “Should we go get a pizza or something on the way back to Kansas?”

“Nah, I think I’ll pass,” Dean said.

“Um, yeah. Me, too,” I said.

She turned to Sam. “How about you? I mean, why not make the best of it? And we don’t have to do pizza, we could do a movie, maybe?”

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Sam asked hesitantly, which got another laugh out of her.

“Yes! If these two party poopers are out, that means we can watch something artsy they’d hate.”

Sam smiled, relieved. “Yeah, that actually sounds great.”

While they discussed their plans, Dean turned to me and said, “That's not a half-bad idea.”

I was surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Making the best of it. We can go make with the best.”

“You wanna spend Valentine’s with me? I figured you’d… what happened to celebrating Lonely Ladies Getting Laid Day?”

“It’s Unattached Drifter Christmas. And I don’t mean anything fancy, or… stuff... It’s just... you know, as friends.”

That’s what he’d said, but he’d taken a step closer, and his voice had gotten a little softer, and if my eyes didn’t deceive me, the expression on his face held something I’d seldom seen on him: uncertainty.

“Friends?” I clarified.

“Well friends with be----”

At my raised eyebrow, he cut himself off and course-corrected.

“Beer. Friends with beer.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Sure.... sure, as in.... you'll....”

“Sure, Dean. I'll go.”

“You’ll go. Okay. Okay! That’s… that’s good, that’s…”

“Do I get flowers?” I asked casually, and at the near-horrified look on his face, tacked on a wink to let him know I was anything but serious.

He grinned. “You get a burger.”

I brought a hand to my chest. “Oh, Mr. Winchester - be still my heart.”

We were ready to get going, but after I filled him in on the rest of my conversation with our clumsy cupid, we agreed we had a quick stop to make before our Valentine’s Day evening got fully underway.

Octavia was at the bar nursing a cosmopolitan when the maître d' approached.

“Miss? Might you be Octavia?”

She swallowed and said, “Yes? I mean, yes. That’s me.”

“This was just dropped off for you,” he said, handing her a plastic bag with a drugstore’s name across it. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Octavia took it, mumbling a thank you as he walked off, completely distracted; she’d never received a gift before. And it was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. She knew well that most all the cards had long been sold, and she was glad, because this was much more special.

There it was, in her hands, her very own valentine, handmade with what materials were at their disposal. It was a cut-from-newspaper heart, trimmed in cotton balls, with random stickers that weren’t holiday-related but were all pinks-and-reds, stuck here-and-there around the writing. And that writing said:

. Have a happy Valentine’s Day, Octavia. You deserve it. - Your favorite hunters .

After swiping a few tears away, Octavia left money on the bar and upon exiting, scurried around to the back of the building so she could disappear. She needed to drop her valentine off back home. And she also needed to pick up something while she was there.

When she reached her final destination of the night, the cupid watched through the window of the burger joint for awhile, drinking in the happiness before her. It could mean trouble, what she was about to do, but in this case there wasn’t need for an assignment, or cross-checking with the fates or the reapers, because she felt it was right. She knew it, sparkled tips to shiny toes.

Tonight’s arrow was smaller, and coated delicately. Concentrating, Octavia aimed carefully. She didn’t blink, and she didn’t wobble, and for the first time ever she hit precisely the targets she intended.

It sailed clean through both their hearts, and Octavia smiled. They would have an amazing night. As for the rest, well - she’d leave forever up to them.

Author’s Notes: This is not only for Valentine’s Day, it’s also for the Galentine’s celebration hosted by @spnfanficpond and my secret Galentine is fellow Pondie @bookshido (who I cannot tag, but have arranged for them to be tagged, cross my heart!) Hope you enjoyed!

...And a quick PS: While you'll notice standard divisions for change of scenes, the intro and ending are separated from this first-person perspective tale by the heart dividers, and are in third person for the purpose of giving the audience information that the main characters don't know/don't need to know - just FYI so you don't think I've lost my mind... or my perspective, as it were. ;)

See Nash Write : Master / See Nash Write : Mobile

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#Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Valentine's Day #Nash Writes #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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words-writ-in-starlight · 6 years

Note

"#someday i should write a brief fic in the constantine movie verse titled 'none of us are getting out of here alive'#and basically just have it be john having a Talk with hellboy" Holy shit YES that would be the best thing ever

Anonymous said:

yooooo,, previous constantine anon here,, just read your tags on the keanu reeves quote,, and i would totally be down for reading constantine and hellboy whenever that gets posted

Fine, FINE, you twisted my arm, HERE is like 3K of just John and Hellboy TALKING AIMLESSLY in a CHURCH. It’s also on AO3. I’m drinking rosé out of a literal chalice right now and still will be when it gets spat out of my queue fifteen minutes after I queue it, so, like, at least I’m really embodying the self-indulgent lifestyle here.

getting out of here alive

John shrugged deeper into his long coat—New Jersey wasn’tcold, not really, but it was damp at night, and he missed Los Angeles with itsperpetual warmth. This clammy chillgnawed sullenly at his bones, and the concrete step was cold under his knee ashe knelt beside the door. He swore underhis breath and gave his tension wrench a frustrated twist, and—there. The lock gave, and he pocketed his lockpicksas he stood, pulling his coat around him and scowling as he slipped through thedoor.

The side door opened into a small office, papered withdrawings by a small child’s hand, dark and quiet. Well, it was past midnight on a November Tuesday,hardly peak work hours. The door on theother side of the office was propped open, and John shoved both hands deep intohis pockets and walked as quietly as he could over the tile and into the narthex. He paused there, beside the font.

Saint Benedict’s was a small church, neither well-attendednor well-appointed, but the stained glass over the altar was pristine, blue andclouded white wreathed in red and gold. The colors were dim at night, only visible as shifting glints when theclouds parted to let the moonlight through. The lights in the sanctuary were still off, impenetrable shadowscluttering in the corners where the faint glow from outside couldn’t reach.

John patted the edge of the holy water font, like someonedismissing a suspicious cat, before he walked into the sanctuary, toward thefigure in the fourth row.

“Hey, Johnny,” the figure said as John sat down. He tipped his head to the side, glancing atJohn out of the corner of one eye, his left hand resting on the back of thenext pew up, the beads of a rosary between his fingers so that the cross drapedover the curve of his thumb. His righthand was propped on his knees, graphite-grey in the light and scrawled withshadows that seemed to writhe. “Beendown to Georgia lately?”

“Still not a good joke, Red,” John said dryly. “How’s Moscow?”

“Hm,” Hellboy said. His voice was the same subterranean rumble it had been last time Johnsaw him, the same it had been when John was twenty-five and so determined toget into trouble that he almost got killed in Atlanta. Hellboy wasn’t quite static, not likeGabriel, he was just…slow to change. Helooked older than he did twenty years ago, but only barely. It was probably even the same coat he’d beenwearing then, meticulously repaired. “Moscow’s fine. Cold andwet. Heard about that, huh?”

“Heard about that,” John confirmed. “I was in the area, thought I’d come say hi.”

“Sure you were.”

John shrugged. “Gladto see you’re feeling yourself, is all.”

Hellboy’s teeth flashed for a brief moment in themoonlight. “You weren’t this diplomaticlast time.”

“Last time I was about three days post-mortem, and in a realrush to get that spear off my hands.” John patted absently at his coat pockets, wishing he had a cigarette,and came up with a lighter instead. Heflicked it open, then closed, and watched the eyeshine that flashed back fromHellboy’s gaze in the short-lived flame. “Really though,” he said. “Shookus up pretty good, seeing that end days shit pop up and then go away likethat. You should be glad I got herefirst. Everyone else is sprinting off toMoscow, or else building bunkers.”

“Always glad to see you,” Hellboy drawled, and his teethflashed again in the flicker of John’s lighter, open-close. “Sorry for the scare.”

“I was thinking you’d finally managed to get that big headof yours bashed in. Figures that youmanaged to just civilly turn down the Apocalypse, though, you always were astubborn fuck. You know how hard us meremortals have to work to shut down that kind of shit?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” John sighed, flipping his lighter thoughtfully over his knuckles. “Your involvement isn’t exactly commonknowledge, Red, but seriously. How areyou doing?”

Hellboy waved his right hand dismissively, still passing therosary through his left one bead at a time. The silken wooden beads glowed when John’s lighter flicked on. “Good learning experience, to the tune ofwatching my step.”

“Mmhm,” John murmured, and dropped the subject. “I heard about your old man, too.”

“Yeah,” Hellboy said quietly. His lips twisted. “You wanna hear a good joke, Johnny?” He didn’t wait for an answer before hecontinued, a deft flip of his hand switching the cross onto the front of hisknuckles, where it dangled loose. “He’dhave died of lung cancer if that puppet fuck hadn’t murdered him.”

John—winced.

It had been a long time since John winced.

“Jesus, Hellboy. I’msorry.”

“He kept it a secret,” Hellboy went on, with a fatalisticnote in his voice. “Because he didn’twant to worry me, see. Because I’m goingto live a long, long time, and he wanted me not to worry over him until Ididn’t have a choice. But after--” Hellboy hesitated. “His will ain’t exactly a long one. All finances to support the Bureau, on thecondition that I always have a place here. All books to remain in the library, under the care of AbrahamSapien. All personal effects to his son,and please could I make sure his headstone says something nice. I got his medical records, too.”

Hellboy’s hand dropped from the back of the pew and hepropped both elbows on his knees, his head bowing down as if in prayer as heshook it slowly. John nodded in thedark—Hellboy’s night vision was some of the best he’d ever encountered, hewould see it—and tried not to give in to the sudden black swell of rage underhis ribs.

“Lung cancer,” Hellboy said to the rosary in his fist. “All that shit he survived, Nazis andmonsters and—goddamn, me, and he was gonna die from lung cancer. He never even smoked.”

“Fuck,” John said with feeling. “I’m—fuck me, Red. I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t fair. Johnhad met Doctor Trevor Bruttenholm once and only once, delivering the Spear ofDestiny into the care of the BPRD. Heand Hellboy had been on good terms, at the time, and it had been almost funny,watching the hulking red demon with his broad military-brat drawl and thesophisticated old man with his cane and his stern eyes. They looked nothing alike, their mannerismswere like night and day, but—Hellboy always lingered by his father’s chair whenhe was rising, waiting to offer his hand to help him up, and Doctor Bruttenholmkept a stock of chocolates in his desk to toss to his son.

The professor had been a good man, was the thing. Really a good man, the kind of man whodecided to raise a demonic child as his own son, the kind of man who heard outJohn’s story about his acquisition of the Spear with calm interest and thenoffered him coffee, the kind of man who gave a shit.

The kind of man who deserved to be saved from an unfairdeath he hadn’t earned.

What must it be like, John wondered, to sit next to a manwho half-cheated his way into the miracle Hellboy must still crave for hisfather?

John flicked his lighter, open-close, and wondered if heshould leave. The silence dragged onlike tar, heavy and dense, the only sound the rapid click-click of the lighterand the slow, swelling tide of Hellboy’s breathing.

It was almost five minutes later when Hellboy broke thesilence with the inevitable question.

“How’d you do it, Constantine?”

John let out the breath he had been holding. Hellboy never called him by his lastname. “I don’t--”

Hellboy shook his head. “No, I—I know you told us the Devil saved your life. But how’d you do it, really? A bargain? Pentacostal silver? Shit, did OldScratch just let you walk the hell out? Too obnoxious to put up with?”

“Pentacostal silver?” John asked quietly. “Been doing some reading on how to get out ofHell?”

“It’s my job.” Hellboy paused. “And—no. I’m not planning to try anything. He’d never forgive me. I just want to know.”

“I handed Mammon in to Lucifer,” John said flatly. “He offered me a reward—an extension on mylife, more time to buy a ticket to Heaven. So I--” He broke off and sighed,turning his lighter over in his fingers.

“So you took it,” Hellboy finished.

John’s lips quirked into a rueful smile, and shook hishead. “Actually, no. I—there was this girl--”

“Always a girl.”

“Fuck you, you can’t lecture me,” John said,good-natured. “There was this girl, apsychic. She saw what was coming, so she--”the good humor faded and John cleared his throat. “So she jumped off a roof and left her sistera message for me. She saved the world,y’know, and she was damned forever—suicide.”

“Ah,” Hellboy murmured. “I gotcha. Save the girl.”

John nodded. “And—sacrifice,the old rules and all that shit. TheDevil’s a sore fucking loser.”

“So here you are,” Hellboy said.

“Here I am,” John agreed. He hesitated, flicked the lighter. “Your old man—the professor couldn’t have pulled that cheat,” he saidquietly. “Hell was never getting itshands on him.”

“Yeah.” Hellboy letthe rosary slip through his fingers, one bead at a time, until he had the crossin his fingers, rubbing the smooth wood thoughtfully with his thumb. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They subsided back into silence, thick and cloying. John turned his lighter over in his fingers,the quiet sound of his skin brushing the metal loud in the quiet sanctuary, andHellboy’s eyes with their faint shine of reflected moonlight fixed on the dimglint of silver.

“The priest here knows me,” Hellboy said abruptly, and Johnblinked in surprise but didn’t fumble his lighter. “Closest parish to our base, so this priest Iknew what I was a kid—really a kid, three or four—pulled some strings to getone of his friends he trusted placed here and then they made him sign about athousand NDA’s. He gave me a spare key,so I could come in at night when I wanted to. Good guy, Father Wesley.”

“Sounds—level-headed,” John remarked.

Hellboy chuckled, a little wry. “More’n some, I bet. So how’d you get in here, Johnny?”

“Picked the lock.”

“You just picked locks until you found me?”

“No, I asked Liz,” John said with a shrug. “She gave me a few places to try, but--” John cracked a smile, flicked hislighter. Open-close, open-close, andeyeshine. “I’ve known you since I wastwenty-five, Red, I tried the church first.”

“Fair enough,” Hellboy said. He unwound the rosary from his fingers and palmed it in his stone hand,and then held out his other hand to John. “Gimme that thing, you’re gonna give me a migraine.”

John flicked the lighter on vengefully, and the light fromthe tiny flame glowed bright in the dark room, turning Hellboy’s hand from greyto brilliant red and throwing a shadow across a scar marring the meat of hispalm.

“I thought you were fireproof, you smug son of a bitch,”John said, closing the lighter and tossing it blindly across the space betweenthem. Hellboy caught it and opened it,setting it carefully on the pew in front of him so that the flame glowed againstthe dark. “Thanks,” John added dryly.

“Spend all my time with people who can’t see fuck-all,”Hellboy said. He opened his flesh andblood hand, palm up, so that the light fell on the fresh scar—a cross, Johnrealized. It was a small thing, not eventwo inches tall, squared off on the ends, with the distinctive shiny look of aburn scar recently healed over, and it must have been a deep burn, because itresisted stretching when Hellboy spread his hand for John to see.

“Damn,” John said, almost awed against his will—it was moreimpressive, somehow, to see scars on Hellboy’s pristine red skin than on hisown. Hellboy wasn’t invulnerable, forall that he was sturdier than most people, but he never scarred. Except for the deep-scored coils creeping uphis arm from the stone hand, Hellboy didn’t have a mark on him.

But now he did.

“The rosary,” Hellboy said, brushing his palm with the tipof one stone finger. “Meyers—you mighthave met Meyers, he’s a Boy Scout, you’ll hate him—he threw it to me. Wanted me to remember…a lot of shit.”

John normally prided himself on his poker face, but he felthis eyebrows jump at that. “The cross onyour rosary did that?”

“Father’s rosary,” Hellboy corrected. “And—yeah.” He touched the scar again, apparently fascinated, mouth set andgrim. “Holy stuff never burned mebefore.”

“Yeah, I know,” John said. “I dumped holy water on you once.”

“Thanks, Johnny,” Hellboy said. Watching him roll his eyes in the small flameof the lighter was strange—two shining gold coins set deep into his face. “But while I was—out of it. I caught the rosary and it hurt.” He sounded offended, almost like a kid who’djust discovered pain, and John wondered, again, just how old Hellboy was by thereckoning of whatever, exactly, his species was called. When John was twenty-five and stupid, Hellboyhad seemed older and experienced in a way that John, mortal as he was, couldn’thope to match. Now, John was forty-five,and Hellboy seemed still young and wide-eyed and ready to get into trouble.

John had never been good with kids. He’d always been pretty good with Hellboy,though, so he kept his voice absent and considering when he spoke again. “Out of it like what?”

“Hm,” Hellboy rumbled. “Out of it like you don’t wanna see. Full demon.” He reached out andheld his flesh and blood hand over the flame, so that the gold licked along thecrease of his palm and clung to his skin like honey, or holy oil. “Learned my real name. Don’t like it much.”

“What is it?”

Hellboy shook his head, lingering over the fire and turninghis hand to watch the small tongue of flame coil around his fingertips. It took a long moment before he spokeagain. “Father would be so disappointedin me.” He shook his head. “I could have destroyed…everything,Johnny. He would have been sodisappointed.”

“You didn’t, though,” John said, stretching both legs out infront of him. “I could have fucked theworld up pretty good too, in my time, and I didn’t.”

Hellboy smiled, and in the light of the single small flameit looked terrifying, his teeth and eyes flashing, the harsh craggy lines ofhis face throwing shadows darker than ink over the gold- and silver-touched redof his skin. “Don’t tell me you don’tfeel guilty, Johnny.”

“I do,” John agreed.

“So,” Hellboy said. “Share your worldly wisdom.”

John considered, watching the delicate flame part aroundHellboy’s palm, below the burn, and the shadows that shifted slow and sleepy onthe ceiling, cast by his hand. “Ithink,” John said, “that good people don’t turn down the Apocalypse becausethey like humanity too much to destroy it.”

Hellboy chuckled, pulling his hand back. “And what’s that say about you?”

“That I’ve put a lot of damn work into this planet and I’mnot about to watch some smug fucking archdemon turn it into an ashtray,” Johnsaid flatly, and Hellboy threw his head back and laughed properly, deep andringing as a bell. John let one cornerof his mouth tick up at the sound. Forall that Hellboy looked out of place in a church, with his blunted red hornsand inhuman yellow eyes, his laugh lived in the vaults of the roof and therecessed windows like he was born there.

“That’s why Father liked you,” Hellboy said, stillsnickering to himself. “Said you weredirect.”

John shrugged, reaching out to flick his lighter closed andpalm it. “He was a good man. Not many of those around in the world.” He stood, pocketed the lighter. The church was darker than before, withoutit, the dim moonlight shining through the stained glass not quite enough forhis eyes anymore, but Hellboy was still unmistakable, cast in shades ofgrey. Red turned grey faster than anyother color on the spectrum, in low light—Hellboy had told him that fact thefirst time John accused him of being less subtle than a fire engine. Then he’d followed it up with a smirk and“besides, they don’t bring me places to be subtle,” and, in fairness, Johncould hardly question that one.

“Not many,” Hellboy agreed, his smile fading a little.

“Good thing your father raised one,” John added, and clappedHellboy on the shoulder as he left the pew without looking back to see hisface. “Come on, Red. Liz said to bring you back in time forpoker.”

There was a moment of quiet, and John walked up the aislewith his hands in his pockets without pausing. Then Hellboy sighed and rose to his feet, his steps heavy on the flooras he followed John outside, and he was chuckling again when he caught up.

“I don’t want to take all your money, Johnny,” Hellboy said.

John grinned, idly missing a cigarette as he pushed open thechurch doors and stepped out into the clammy night air again. “You’ve got a shit poker face.”

“Yeah, and you’re a fuckin’ cheat,” Hellboy saidcomfortably, pausing to lock the doors behind him. “We play poker with a ref. Blue’s gonna close you down the second youstart, so enjoy it while it lasts and all that.”

“I’m not a cheat. I’mjust better than you.”

Hellboy scoffed, and when they started walking, he hummedunder his breath to the old song.

…a fiddle of goldagainst your soul…

“I’ll give you mymoney to cut that shit out right now,” John said.

Hellboy switched to whistling.

#hellboy #john constantine #constantine #LISTEN #I WROTE THIS WITH THE BEST OF FRIENDSHIP-LY INTENTIONS #BUT NOW I KINDA SHIP THIS????#HEAR ME OUT HERE #FIRST OF ALL: DID YOU READ THIS FIC? IF YES THEN YOU PROBABLY UNDERSTAND WHY #SECOND OF ALL: LISTEN JUST SIT TIGHT #HELLBOY MEETS THIS RECKLESS TWENTY-SOMETHING KID WHO'S GAUNT AND FURIOUS AND THROWS HOLY WATER ON HIM #AND IS IMMEDIATELY LIKE ''...AM I...INTO HIM?????''#AND THEN THERE'S JOHN WHO'S STILL BASICALLY WAITING TO DIE AND YEAH SURE OKAY HE'LL FUCK THIS WEIRDLY BENEVOLENT JOVIAL DEMON #WHAT ELSE IS HE GONNA DO WITH HIS TIME TBH #AND HELLBOY CALLS HIM 'JOHNNY' EVEN THOUGH JOHN DOESN'T LET ANYONE CALL HIM THAT #AND HELLBOY GETS AWAY WITH IT FOR LIKE A WEEK OF THAT TIME IN ATLANTA BEFORE JOHN CATCHES ON TO THE JOKE #THEY MEET UP ON VARIOUS JOBS AROUND THE COUNTRY AND FUCK IN MOTEL ROOMS #AND THEN HELLBOY GETS WORD FROM LA THAT EVERYONE **KNOWS** JOHN CONSTANTINE IS DYING #AND THEN JOHN SHOWS UP ON THE BPRD DOORSTEP HEALTHY AS A HORSE WITH A MASSIVELY POWERFUL ARTIFACT AND QUITE A STORY #AND THEN LAPSE THREE YEARS AND THIS HAPPENS #I DON'T HAVE A LOT ELSE WORKED OUT #BUT I KIND OF WANT TO WRITE SOME STUFF AND REALLY ABUSE THAT SONG FOR MY OWN PERSONAL AMUSEMENT #(specifically: hellboy is the kind of person to make a 'devil went down on johnny' joke to john's face)#(john cannot BELIEVE he's into this fucking loser)#....i still really ship hellboy/liz bUT ALSO: JOHN/HELLBOY #idiot teenagers with a queue #fuckyeahdiomedes #asked and answered

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sweetheartjeongguk · 6 years

Text

BTS LA Day 4 Concert Experience

hey guys !! so i had the amazing opportunity to see bts again this year at the staples center and it was so amazing i wanted to cry every time they opened their mouths.

so i decided to make a little recap of some stuff that happened (even though you can probably see and find fancams and other posts about it lol) i’ll add in some tips as well to other armys who are attending to the other concerts and/or trying for tickets next time!

so i live about three hours away from LA so i actually got up at 4 AM (having only slept for two hours) and got ready (did my hair, makeup, EVERYTHING). i feel so thankful and guilty for making my dad wake up super early to drive me to LA at 7 AM, but he was a trooper. he didn’t even eat anything before we left so i felt extra guilty, so shoutout to the best dad in the world :(

we arrived around 9 AM and the lines were already long af even though it officially opened at 10 AM. i was like damn armeries whats good? i spent about two hours in the line + an extra 30 minutes in the queue going up to the actual booth to get stuff. i only bought the lightstick and a tae fan which was the other one left! i think i got the last one hehe

after that, i waited in the cool air of my car before lining up for an hour and half and then entering the building. i had some overpriced mcdonalds and then proceeded to wait until 5 PM to go to my seat since i had to charge my phone to take photos and videos.

now onto the concert itself - i’ll put in pretty random stuff bc my laptops dying and i cant think of everything at the top of my head. SO here are some of my favorite things

- we all sang along to the music videos that played on the screens before the boys came on. [!] fun fact for anyone attending to the other concerts, they perform idol right after the fake love mv plays on the screen!

- they all came out glowing like the melanin kings they are and sang their hearts out for us!

- the vcr clips were so adorable and im calling it now - if they use any of the sample music in the vcr in future bts songs, i called it first.

- our crowd was so fricking loud but my phone makes everything so quiet but at least i can hear the performance so that’s all that matters

- fanchants were also crazy too! i was a lil disappointed again when yoongi stoppd singing to let us sing along but it was obvious that we were not confident in the lyrics again so then he just picked it back up. but we made up for it by screaming and supporting him very loudly!

- i would have to say my bias wreckers for the night were namjoon and hoseok because HOLY SHIT HIP THRUSTS AND ALL THAT JAZZ AND DISRESPECTFUL SMIRKS LIKE WAHHHHH

- jin’s high note in epiphany was the greatest blessing i ever received in my life. i hope all of you get to experience it for yourselves

- jimin fell (not hard, more like a stumble) during anpanman and he was smiling so cutely when he jumped back into the choreo. yoongi was even laughing at him

- everyone screeched so hard when there were ab shots from jimin and jungkook and i nearly died as well

- outro tear slaps so hard in person i wanted to cry

- their ments were so cute !!!! when jins voice cracked, i snorted so hard snot came out my nose so thanks for that, kim seokjin. also he was wheeling his arm around so hard during one song and i thought he was gonna smack someone in the head with the army bomb in his head

- taehyungs dancing and vocals in singularity -- zoo wee mama! also, the vcr for him was so beautiful! if they dont make that the singularity remix, im planning an event

- all solo performances were amazing and armys did their best hyping up every single one of them!!! since i was there, i can tell you from experience how it went so dont always assume from others !!

- when namjoon said we were bts’ answer, i almost cried bc this man just says such beautiful things and i know its hard to express himself fully in english since hes obvs korean born and raised but he manages to hit everyones thoughts and feelings in one-go

- jungkook and hoseok did some aegyo during their ments and i wanted to DIE it was so cute , i bet yall saw the fancams already so i wont go into more detail

- yoongi stopped during his ment bc we kept screaming loudly for him and he smiled so WIDE it was the cutest thing i’ve ever seen in the world and i swear i fell in love with him again

i may or may not add more or talk about it some more but ill leave it at that! enjoy the rest of the love yourself tour and come talk to me about it!! :)

#bts #love yourself tour #concert experience*

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sapphicscholar · 7 years

Note

For the high school AU, how about Sanvers celebrating some kind of milestone in their relationship (6 month anniversary, etc.) and having a nice date? Ooh, and there's a solar eclipse next week so maybe Maggie and Alex can do something special together since Alex loves Astonomy.

Sanvers High School AU Part 11 - Posted on AO3 as well

A/N: This one jumped the queue because timeliness. So enjoy and remember, if you’re going to look up at the eclipse, make sure you’re wearing certified glasses! And excuse any mistakes on California geography…I had to make some guesses about where Midvale might be.

A/N 2: This exists in the same high school AU universe as all of the rest, save for the party ones, but we’re jumping forward a bit in time to the summer after graduation (last we saw these two, they were checking out colleges together in Chapters 64 and 68). Since they got together pretty early in the school year, they’re closer to a year than any kind of 6 month anniversary, but we’ll have them celebrating their last week together before leaving for college.

Chapter Text

“And you’ll be safe?” Eliza asked, looking sternly at Alex.

“Yes, Mom,” Alex promised for what felt like the twentieth time that day. “It’s only going to be for one night.”

“You know I have to worry; it’s my job.”

“I know,” Alex finally relented. “But I promise, we’ll be back tomorrow night. And we’re only a couple of hours away if you need anything.”

“And you’ll watch out for your sister?”

“I’m perfectly capable,” Kara announced, bounding down the stairs and landing next to Alex, her duffel bag already packed and ready.

“I know, dear,” Eliza sighed. “Now when are James and Maggie getting here?”

As if on cue, a loud knock on the door echoed through the living room. “I’ll get it!” Kara yelled, bounding to the door and swinging it open to reveal Maggie and James standing together with matching grins.

“Hey, Little Danvers,” Maggie waved, stepping inside as James gave Kara a kiss hello. “Good morning, Eliza!”

“Good morning, Maggie. Are you all packed and ready?”

“Yep, our backpacks and camping gear are already loaded in James’ car,” Maggie answered, reaching out to help Alex carry her things out as well.

Once they got everything packed into the trunk and after one more round of goodbyes and promises to be safe to Eliza, they were off. Alex didn’t even fight Kara for shotgun, content to snuggle with Maggie in the backseat, even if it meant Kara got to control the music for the entirety of the trip.

“So, how excited are you for the eclipse tonight?” James asked, looking in the rearview mirror at Alex, their resident astronomy nerd.

“Very,” Alex answered. “I mean, it’d be cooler if Mom would have let us go up to Oregon to be in the path of totality, but at least we’re getting out far enough away from the light pollution of the cities and towns that it should seem pretty dark.”

“You leave for Stanford this week, Alex,” Kara reminded her sister, craning back to look at her.

“Yes, and I’m already packed.”

“Still, I’m sure she just wants to spend time with you,” Maggie chimed in. “Plus, now you have all that extra time to help me pack.”

“Ugh, fine,” Alex relented, sighing dramatically, even though she knew that Maggie’s aunt was working extra shifts that week to be able to take time off to drive Maggie up to National City University to help her move into the honors dorms and go to the Parent’s Weekend events, which meant that she and Maggie would probably do a lot more making out than packing.

“So, Alex was telling me this is the first time this has happened since the 70s,” Kara told James.

“1979,” Alex chimed in from the backseat, though she sat back, knowing she had already told them all pretty much everything she knew.

“Mhm,” Kara nodded. “And did we all remember our glasses?”

“I’ve got ours packed,” Alex told Maggie. “And I gave you yours,” she said, looking at Kara.

“I know, I’ve got them,” Kara said.

“And I’ve got mine,” James noted. “Now, do we want to play some games to pass the journey?”

Two hours of carpool karaoke, I Spy, 20 Questions, and a rather limited round of Truth or Dare later, they got to the campsite and quickly made their way to the space they had reserved at the top of the hill, right in the middle of one of the larger clearings—a space Alex assured them she had pre-vetted and would be perfect for their late afternoon viewing time for the eclipse.

“Do we race for setting up the tents?” Kara asked, arching an eyebrow in challenge at Alex.

“May the best couple win,” Alex added, offering her hand out in a bet to Kara, even as both James and Maggie shook their heads and rolled their eyes. “And no cheating, Kara,” Alex added, looking pointedly at her sister, who shook her head; she knew to be careful about using her powers out in public.

But, once the games began, neither Maggie nor James was willing to lose, so they all took off, quickly claiming their spots as they got to work on the tents.

“Pole!” Alex yelled, holding out a hand as Maggie fumbled in their bag.

“Base first!” Kara yelled to James, who had started trying to build the frame.

“I don’t know why this stupid stake won’t go into the ground,” Maggie grumbled, trying to put all of her weight into her effort and getting nowhere.

“You might have hit a root system,” Alex suggested, feeling rather proud of herself for not snapping, even if it did look like Kara and James might win. “Here, let me help.”

“Thanks,” Maggie muttered, wiping the sweat off her forehead and the back of her neck as she stepped back to let Alex take over. She had intended to start working on the frame while Alex got the stakes into the ground, but then Alex looked so good—her muscles being put to work as she got a little sweaty.

“Want a hand? Need someone to spot you?” Maggie flirted, her hands wrapping around Alex’s waist.

Clearing her throat, Alex turned around in Maggie’s arms. “If you want somewhere to do anything tonight, you’ll get your butt in gear and help me win this bet.”

“Roger that,” Maggie sighed, turning back to the bag of equipment that would theoretically create their dwelling for the night.

After another half hour or so, Kara gleefully called out, “We win!”

“Ugh, whatever, if we didn’t have trouble with the stakes, we totally would have won,” Alex grumbled, working with Maggie to secure the last of their anchors.

“At least it was a respectable second, Danvers,” Maggie tried comforting Alex, patting her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, second out of two. Now let’s get everything in our tents so we’re all ready in plenty of time for the eclipse.”

—

“Wow,” Maggie sighed, relaxing into Alex’s chest as they both watched the moon slowly slide in front of the sun, blocking out all but a small sliver of it as a premature night fell on the campground.

“Thanks for being here,” Alex whispered as she hugged Maggie closer. As amazing as the experience would have been no matter what, it felt that much better to be seeing it with Maggie in her arms.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Danvers.”

And they were both too wrapped up in each other, in the moment, to notice Kara making silent “aww” noises and pointing at them until James finally got the hint and snapped a few pictures of them in addition to the eclipse.

Alex insisted on sitting through the whole experience, even as the sun gradually reemerged—only to set what felt like moments later—while Kara and James eventually got up to go find a few more good sticks to get the fire going again.

“You two lovebirds ready to help make dinner?” Kara called from the fire she and James had finally got going.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex called back, kissing Maggie’s cheek before finally dragging herself up and stretching. “What’s for dinner?”

“Hot dogs – and don’t worry, we got plenty of veggie ones for you, Maggie,” Kara answered, beaming at Maggie.

“Could I get one of those too?” Alex asked.

“Really?” James laughed, never knowing Alex to choose the vegan option unless Maggie had cooked for her.

“I don’t need food poisoning,” Alex shuddered, earning a glare from Kara and a knowing laugh from James.

“I suppose we don’t all have Kara’s stomach of steel,” he mused.

“You’re all just jealous,” Kara huffed, helping James to get the hot dogs set up on their small campfire grill.

While Kara and James took care of cooking the hot dogs, Maggie helped Alex to mix up a pitcher of lemonade and find a few good sticks for cooking their (vegan) marshmallows later.

—

While they sat around the campfire roasting marshmallows, the conversation shifted from the scary stories they’d been telling (much to Kara’s disappointment) to the three seniors’ discussing the classes they’d signed up for, the dorms they’d been assigned to, their future roommates, and their fears about college. Knowing how close Alex would be made the conversation a bit easier on Kara, though she was still sad thinking about how lonely Midvale High would feel the following year without all of them, especially with James flying all the way across the country to go to school in Metropolis.

“So, what class are you most excited about and which one are you dreading?” James asked the group, knowing that Kara also had a bit of flexibility in her schedule as an upperclassman.

“I’m really excited about my journalism elective with Ms. Grant,” Kara offered.

“With your big teacher crush, you mean,” Alex teased.

“Whatever,” Kara huffed. “And I’m not looking forward to…hmm…oh, my math class. I hear Mr. Lauren is so boring.”

“Ugh, he really is,” James sighed, feeling himself getting sleepy at the memory. “I actually got into an elective on newsroom ethics that they’re offering in light of, well, you know, everything going on. I think it’ll be great!”

“Mhm, one day you’re totally gonna win the Pulitzer or something,” Kara gushed, letting her head drop to James’ shoulder.

Chuckling, James just shook his head. “It’s sweet that you believe in me, but let’s not get too excited just yet.”

“Whatever, you’ll see,” Kara teased. “Now what are you dreading?”

“I’m taking an international relations course with a professor who’s apparently pretty awful,” James sighed. “Hopefully the readings will be interesting enough to make up for it. What about you, Alex? Maggie?”

“To be honest, I’m kind of dreading the required gen-chem course. I mean, I like chemistry, but I feel like it’s going to repeat so much of what we did in AP Chem. It’s literally the same textbook. And it’s a huge lecture course that’s just for weeding people out of pre-med.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” James commiserated.

“It’s whatever. I’m getting to take an astrobiology seminar that should be amazing enough to make up for it!”

“Very cool!” Maggie exclaimed, loving how enthusiastic Alex got about her classes. “I’m taking this course in the Philosophy Department on the ethics of criminal law that sounds amazing! The professor worked as a prosecutor for a long time and did some pro bono defense work before going back to school for a PhD in Philosophy, and so she apparently has really great insights into it from both sides. And I’m dreading my French class. I’m just not great at learning new languages.”

“You’ve already speak two fluently, though, don’t you?” Kara asked.

“Yeah, but my aunt wants me to have a third,” Maggie explained.

“Oh, okay,” Kara nodded.

—

After a bit of stargazing, the two couples gradually made their way to the tents for the night. “Want to zip our sleeping bags together?” Alex suggested, not really wanting to be so separated from Maggie just yet.

“Sounds good,” Maggie replied with a grin, helping Alex to get their bags zipped together and giggling as she had to hunch over to change into her pajamas and not hit her head on the tent.

Once they were finally settled, Alex let herself be pulled closer to Maggie. “I’m gonna miss you this year,” Alex finally whispered.

“I’ll miss you too, but we’re not that far away.”

“I know,” Alex admitted. “Still, it’ll be different not to see you everyday, not to eat lunch with you and take classes with you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m excited about Stanford!”

“I know, I get it,” Maggie assured Alex, her voice soft and low. “I’ll miss you like crazy too. But I think we’re both doing what’s best for us, you know?” And she knew they were. They’d gone over their pro/con lists together, had compared all the different ways it could play out. But at the end of the day, Maggie could go to NCU pretty much for free, and their programs were better suited to her interests, while Alex already had professors at Stanford itching to have her working in their labs, and they did more in the fields she wanted to pursue.

“Yeah, I get that.” After a pause, Alex asked, her voice exceptionally quiet, “You won’t forget me, will you?”

“What? Alex, no, never,” Maggie insisted, propping herself up on her elbows to better look at Alex. “I could never forget you.”

“I mean, you’re going to a brand new place. Maybe you’ll find someone cooler, you know? And that’d be okay. I want you to be happy. But I don’t want to lose you as a friend too.”

“Alex, I love you. And you are my best friend and a huge dork and perfect for me, okay? Plus, you think I don’t worry about all of the brilliant nerds you’re going to find at Stanford?”

“You have no reason to worry, Maggie. You’re smart and driven and beautiful; no one is going to compare.”

“You’re such a sap, Danvers.”

“You started it.”

“Mm, maybe I should finish it too,” Maggie mused, leaning over and letting her lips find Alex’s as they cuddled together, holding each other tightly and letting their lips and hands tenderly map out each other’s bodies until the sun rose.

#sanvers #fanfic #prompt fill #hsau #solar eclipse #date #alex x maggie #alex danvers #maggie sawyer #ao3feed #kara danvers #james olsen #kara x james #double date #fluff #karolsen

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routinely-unamoosed-blog · 6 years

Text

13x04 ~ The Notorious Few

Someone teach me how to set up a queue I’m so sorry.

HERE IT IS GOOD GOD! This was supposed to post a fuckin month ago but I can’t set up queues for the life of me. I’m always apologizing jfc. Here’s chapter four for all to see, I guess.

Characters: Maddie Rayner, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester,

Word Count: 25,481 oops

Warning(s): mentions of torture; violence; possibly some typos idk; dean being the antagonist, I guess =/

One | Two | Three

A groan left her lips as her eyes opened to their own accord. She expected to see the single pillar of light that cascaded onto her for five weeks, but sunlight warmed and greeted her face. It was alarming to feel embracing swath of heat on her face when just seconds ago she was being carved into like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Was it seconds? She couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t remember what happened after Dean had knocked her out. Had she come to during a small window of time and forgotten about it, or had she really been unconscious for what felt like eons? Her mind was so wrapped up in the fact that she was confused as to where she was that she didn’t notice her surroundings.

Her arms were free, too. She was covered in bedsheets; she could tell by how they slipped down a bit when she cradled her burned wrists. Boys did their research, she thought with a throb of pain in her shoulder. She glanced down to look at the damage done by Dean.

White bandages prevented her from seeing how bad her shoulder really was. She rotated her arm and immediately felt the waves of pain in the muscle and bones, with something grinding against itself internally as well. She winced, exhaling sharply through gritted teeth, to keep away from the cloud of dizziness that hovered above her with rumbling thunder.

She sat up and almost screamed when she saw Sam sitting on the plush sofa next to the bed. His red and black flannel was discarded on the bed next to her, leaving him in a tight V-neck shirt, jeans and work boots. She crossed her legs when her core was clearly impressed at the sight of Sam so naked.

Maddie glanced down at herself on instinct, thankful the youngest brother hadn’t been invasive and taken her clothes off while she was unconscious.

“I did what I could without taking your clothes off. Didn’t wanna . . . y’know,” Sam said with a sigh and a nervous smirk, standing from the living room and tossing his phone on the bags piled next to him. She inhaled to ask how she got here, but he answered before the question even reached her throat. “You passed out. You’ve been out for at least a day.”

So it had been eons. A day for her felt like five minutes. Time seemed to flow rapidly in this damned line of work. Cases flew by like the morning breeze, with people falling victim to yet another monster the next day. She was shocked no Hunter had bothered to telephone her in need of assistance.

Her jaw clenched (and throbbed) as she stared at him. Her eyes lowered to his lips unconsciously, an eyebrow arching in satisfaction. They look kissable, she thought with a soft smile. She was happy that she was away from Dean, but she was more than happy to know that Sam was the one who risked everything he had with his brother to save her. She felt sympathy for the man, but a large part of her twinged with uneasiness.

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” she asked and eyed Sam’s bag, which she could tell was filled with weapons and tools from how the smell of metal filled the room. She knew Sam’s . . . humanness couldn’t detect it, but her enhanced senses could pick it up a mile away.

Sam, sighing with a shrug, waved her over. Maddie was hesitant in her strides, fists clenching at her sides as she slowly picked up her legs and forced herself to take those steps. Her mind was screaming—and swimming in dizziness from being unconscious—at her to stop, to make her body halt in the center of the room and make a run for it. Her legs could be taking her to her death; Sam could pull a gun or a knife and end her right here. Who knows how long Sam rented this place for? Her body wouldn’t be found for possibly weeks.

She could die here. She could die without anyone knowing; her body could be here for weeks or months or even years. Sure, someone would smell her decomposing body, but she wondered if anyone would care. She understood her reputation in this world: Everyone was scared of her, everyone she’s ever met—Hunter or human—grew to fear her.

But her death could mean something. If Sam decides to kill her instead of having her face the consequences from his brother, he would live with the burden. Sam Winchester would live with the burden of killing the most notorious Hunter in the nation. His reputation and his mark on this sad, doomed little world would all be replaced by the one who killed Maddie Rayner, the last of its deadly and poisonous bloodline.

The youngest Winchester’s eyebrows lifted a bit in confusion. Maddie blinked, her mind returning to the present. She had stopped walking and now stood in the center of the motel room, inches away from Sam’s outstretched hand. His fingers held a new roll of bandages, a roll that looked minuscule in his rather large hands.

Maddie took note of his stature as she swiped the bandages from his hand. Now that she wasn’t in peril or danger, she could truly eye how short she felt in the Hunter’s presence. He was a towering man, at that, standing at least six-four or six-five. She eyed his muscle mass, too, and was astonished at what she saw. His biceps seemed to dominate his t-shirt with beautifully toned skin covering the perfectly sculpted muscle from decades of hunting.

His lips moved, but she was too damn focused on his muscles to notice. She looked up at him, finally, and raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Sam smiled. Dimples creased in the corners of his mouth as he looked away from her for a moment; his cheeks reddened a bit to her surprise. His smile, making his face brighter now, seemed to take over her mind. That smile, with pearly white teeth and no imperfections, seemed to make her forget about her torture. It made her think that everything was right in the world; no monsters, no demons on her ass, nothing. She forgot about the bounty hunt that Dean was possibly on.

“You’re gonna have to trust me on this,” he repeated.

Her head inclined a bit. She wouldn’t call it an act of authority. If anything, she felt the authority in Sam right down to the dominating stance he stood in. She stood there for a moment and crossed her arms over her chest with an arch of her eyebrow. She blinked once, looked up at him and said, “Okay.”

The answer must’ve caught him off guard a bit. His head leaned forward slightly, a look of confusion on his adorable face. Three or four wrinkles folded up in his forehead, and it was then that her heart actually fluttered.

“O-okay?” Sam repeated.

Maddie shrugged. “You saved my life. You don’t owe me anything, but . . . it’s been a long while since I’ve actually trusted somebody. And you, Sam, seem like an okay guy to trust. But, please, don’t forget that I will not hesitate to put a blade inside your head.” Her tone dipped from calm to filled with venom.

The man smirked nervously again as she shrugged her jacket off. Her Skynyrd tank top was soaked with dried blood, with most of her right shoulder covered in blood, dirt, and bruises from her torture. She felt Sam’s lingering gaze on her shoulders and biceps; she smiled as she tossed the jacket on the bed. Her shoulder twinged with pain.

It was when she turned to have her back face Sam did he let out a breath low enough for only her ears to hear. She bent over to take off her boots, straightening quickly when the floor creaked underneath the older Hunter’s feet.

She flicked her head back to look at him sidelong. He had taken a step closer to her. She scoffed softly, performing the most daring thing she could do in the same room with a Hunter and slipped off her shirt. She stood there in her athletic bra and—

“Do you w-want me to . . .” Sam seemed to be at a loss for words as he took in her muscle-bound back. She felt his eyes on her back as she allowed her uninjured shoulder to rotate, thus moving her shoulder blade beneath the equally toned skin.

I could have some fun with this, she thought as she turned to face him. She lifted a brow and put a bit more weight on her leg, bringing a hand to cup her hip in her attempt to be sexy. It clearly worked by how Sam averted his gaze and busied himself with finding a fishhook and what looked like a fishing line in his bag.

The finishing strides that took her to the other side of the room made her stomach turn slightly despite her confidence. She knew Sam wouldn’t want to hurt her unless he had to for self-defense.

Sam’s voice made her jump slightly. “Why don’t I, uh, help you stitch your shoulder?” he asked and sat on the bed. Maddie looked at him for a moment, a twinge of fear jolting her spine. She pushed it down, though. He was trying to help her, after all. It’d be hard to clean her wounds without another set of hands, anyway.

Her head inclined again and she sat on the floor with her back facing the bed. She lifted her knees to her chest and leaned forward until she knew Sam got a clear look at her back, where the two masses of skin just between her shoulder blades would give birth to her wings.

She felt Sam’s eyes roaming the tanned skin shrouded in rough flesh and dark ink. Her entire body was covered in tattoos, which seemed to catch Sam off guard when they had first met. His eyes had given her a poring once-over that made her feel somewhat violated, but she managed to grow used to it in what would be the five weeks she’d be with him.

The rolling muscle in her back toned with athleticism and altered genetics made Sam splay his hands on her slits. His hands were warm on her skin, save for the spasm of pins and needles that exploded in her back. She shuddered beneath him; his hands were pulled back.

“You good?” Sam asked, his fingers pulling back her hair and tossing it over her shoulder. Maddie felt a jolt of electricity rush through her. It was satisfying, yes, and her body begged for me. She glanced at him over her shoulder through her lashes and nodded.

Her shoulder lifted in half of a shrug. “They’re just sensitive. How close is the, uh, puncture wound?”

She watched him peer back at her shoulder, head turning to measure the distance. The wound in her shoulder still hurt like a bitch, and it took more courage for her to accept the fact that Sam’s hands on her were his way of helping her. Every faint touch of his hands on her made her jump and shrink into his legs more. Every brush of his fingers made her forget the throbbing pain the hook made as he sewed the puncture wound together.

“About an inch, give or take,” he guessed. He quickly picked himself up and went to the fridge. The appliance looked like as tinier as ever as he bent down to get a bottle of whiskey from the door. He shut the door with his foot, shuffling back over and handing her the alcohol. “Helps, trust me.”

One rather violent throb of pain made her snarl and whip her head around, her hand grabbing his hands and bending them back. One jerk down would break his entire arm or his wrist if she eased up on her strength. Her wing erupted from her right side, the muscle surrounding the mountain of rugged skin rippling with power. Sam leaned back a bit, his eyes widen a fraction. She didn’t see fear in his eyes, no.

She saw sorrow.

Her mood changed immediately. Her anger washed away as he stared at her, with her wing extending toward the farthest wall of the room, her eyes scanning the limb for any minor wounds. The feathers, where the wound from the machete would be, were soaked with blood. She gave her wing a twitch to test for pain. Nothing came, and it was Sam’s breathed awe that made her glare back at him.

Maddie tucked her wing in before Sam could say anything, pushing his hands back toward him. A blush warmed her cheeks when his forehead folded again. She flicked her hair out of her face and waited for Sam to resume unrolling the bandages. She took a rather long drink of the burning whiskey to drown the rumbling and thundering pain.

He had her kneel on the bed due to her height so he could wrap the bandage around her shoulder and part of her underarm. It took him at least three layers to finally contain the slight bleeding that oozed through the first layer. He had asked if she was a hemophiliac, to which she denied.

She got off the bed and lifted her wrists. They ached from the burns caused by the chains. Sam eyed them, too, and went to the bathroom. She watched him run a rag beneath the stream of warm water and wring it out. His muscles tensed in his T-shirt, making his biceps thicken. She clenched her jaw and stared longer than necessary, in her opinion, but the small smile on his lips made her glad as he pressed the rag to her skin.

A sharp wince left her clenched teeth when the warmth stung her wrist. Her hand took the rag from Sam’s.

Maddie watched the Hunter step away from her and go towards the bed. “What do you wanna do? I couldn’t find a case nearby, so I guess we have the day off,” he asked, spinning on his heel and plopping on his back on the bed.

She stared at him for a moment. He looked relaxed being in the same room with her, which meant that he would let his guard down around her. It wasn’t that she wanted to kill him. She wanted to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t steal any time for himself to possibly talk to his brother.

She didn’t trust this act for a second. Although the man had saved her life, she had lied to him so she could trust him. Lies were what kept people safe, in her opinion, but what lies were mounting on top of the other in this act? Sam seemed to be convinced she trusted him. Sure, a tiny part of her felt a strange version of trust towards the Hunter, and yes, maybe she enjoyed being in the presence of him . . . but she didn’t like being alone. She’s already spent at least fourteen years all by her lonesome when her family was murdered.

Being alone meant she had nobody. She understood hunting alone was a death sentence in itself, but she flew through cases like they were child’s play. Some of the more difficult cases were finished after at least three days, including the Wendigo case. She never found out if the boys had killed the beast when she was unconscious, but she didn’t want to know now.

She wanted to know why Dean has a vendetta against her.

Her head cocked when she thought about it. She realized she was still staring at Sam, but he was staring right back at her. Her cheeks warmed and she averted her gaze, fixing it on the duffle bag filled with fresh clothing. She longed for her old clothes covered in the smells of stale beer and cigarette butts.

She looked at the door and back at Sam. Her eyes roamed his athletic figure with pleasure, her tongue sticking out and wetting her lips in what she thought was sexy. His biceps looked magnificent in the lighting, both from the midday sun and the light streaming out from the bathroom.

She crossed her ankles as she scrunched her lips to the side. A question crossed her mind when she considered her own athleticism, a question that she was afraid that Sam would take offense to. Alas, her life was shortened the second she met him. Her mind shrugged, made up with its decision, and her mouth opened. It closed when Sam spoke.

“I tried to talk him out of it. I tried to . . . he wouldn’t listen, Maddie, for that I am so very sorry.” Emotion clung to his voice as she searched his face for any of that grinning Hunter she saw moments before. Her throat closed up on her when she tried to crack a stupid joke to lighten the mood. Her mind found nothing.

She pushed from the bed and in front of his, her hand grabbing his shirt and yanking him to his feet, his massive figure towering over her as she hugged his narrow waist. He seemed to be confused by how his arms just hovered above her, but his long arms eventually wrapped around her upper back.

Heat radiated from him. Despite wearing one layer of clothing, he was pretty squishy when she tightened her hands and buried her face in his chest. She smelled his cologne and a mixture of what smelled like alcohol, blood and books enveloped themselves around her, her body relishing in the calming aromas.

“It’s okay. It isn’t your fault.”

Her gut twisted when those words came out. Her brain cringed at that sorrowful sentence that nobody, not even her, would think of leaving her mouth. Her reputation was all snark and no kindness. Someone makes a stupid mistake? Call them out on it and patronize them. Somebody gets tragically killed? Say they deserved it and, again, call out their mistakes during the case that got them killed.

Two days later, Sam decided it was safe to go out in the open. Maddie, of course, took it upon herself to force the Hunter to take her shopping for new clothes. He was hesitant at first, his mind seemed like it was determined to keep a low profile until he was sure Dean was over Maddie’s escape.

That didn’t seem to be the case, she found out when pounding on their motel door startled both of the Hunters.

“Open up, Sammy!” a deep voice snarled, “just wanna talk.”

Dean.

Maddie sat up on her bed. Cold air drifted across her almost bare skin, her pajamas consisting of a camisole and new, somewhat scanty underwear from Victoria’s Secret. Her pulse quickened the second Dean’s fist slammed on the chipping white door. She fought dizziness as she threw the covers off her and leaped from the bed.

Sam seemed to remain calm. He must’ve planned this out in the three days they were rooming here, for his immediate reaction was to shove her into the bathroom and lock it from the inside. He instructed her to climb out of the window and run if things went south. The thought of that made her sprew hushed protests at the man, Maddie’s hands grabbing onto his shirt and begging him to come with her.

“Maddie, you know my brother’s pissed. He’s gonna kill you if he sees you . . . I can stall him,” he said, turning her and lifting her into the bathtub. The ceramic tub was cold against her shoulders as Sam left and shut the door, turning the knob a few times to confirm it was locked.

She found herself praying for him. Praying was extremely rare, considering her reputation for killing angels, but it was in occasional circumstances did she pray for the safety of herself and others. It wasn’t until then did she realize that she expected an answer. It was weird. To her, expecting an answer back would be like Satan crawling back to Heaven and apologizing; it’d never happen no matter how much she asked.

She wasn’t necessarily concerned for herself. She could be eleven-thousand feet in the air in a matter of seconds. It was Sam that she worried about. Sure, his brother was pissed that she escaped. But if Dean found out that it was Sam—his own brother—that got her out, who knows what he could do? He wouldn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re implying, Maddie, her mind muttered.

Right. Dean wouldn’t kill his own brother. Last time a brother killed a brother was with Cain and Abel. Then again, the boys are direct descendants of Cain and Abel. What’s the worst that could happen, right? Her mind tried to think of something else. Kissing Sam came immediately, but it faded when Sam and Dean’s voices filtered through the hideously green walls.

“I know you’re pissed . . .”

“Damn right, I’m pissed!”

“Dean, calm down.”

“‘Calm down’? Sam, Maddie is extremely dangerous. She’s us but ten times worse with great boobs!”

She sunk lower into the tub. Despite the humorous remark, she had to admit that Dean was right: her position in the hunting community was a terrifying one, at best, and nobody would trust her with their life. She couldn’t count how many Hunters or victims have been killed due to her temper and misjudgment.

Muffled crashes made her heart quicken even more. If she didn’t calm down, her heart might explode. She lifted her knees to her chest, pressing her ear to the wall behind her.

It got quiet.

Her eyes widened when she heard the doorknob shift and a displeased chuckle. “Did you have to lock the door, Sammy?”

She slowly crawled out of the tub and positioned herself beneath the window. Being tiny compared to the lumberjacks the Winchesters were, the window was higher than she expected. A curse left her lips that were pressed into a line, her teeth grinding against each other as she waited for the door to open.

Another crash came from the other room with adrenaline running through her veins. She felt the color fade from her face, although dizziness never came over her. The exhilaration that rushed through her made her throat close. This could be where she dies. She could die in a bathroom while one of the Winchesters was trying to protect her.

Come on, come on, she thought. A simple jump up could have her running down the hill in seconds. That, or if Dean managed to grab her feet, a powerful kick to the nose would kill him. Her nails dug into her palms.

“Come on out, Maddie,” Sam said, his words coming out quickly. Maddie could tell he was catching his breath, and when she slowly emerged from the bathroom, she saw the reason why. He had his gun aimed at his brother’s head, with Dean’s entire body being shoved against the wall. Sam’s chest was heaving.

She was hesitant on whether she should run to the door to freedom or help Sam kick his brother’s ass. Maddie found herself leaning towards the latter more than the former, but she decided to wait until Sam gave her further directions as to what he had planned. It wasn’t often that she took orders from others, but she decided to go down the safest route if it meant she’d live through this.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean purred, which got a frustrated groan from his brother. “Glad I got to see the show.” Dean’s eyes roamed her nearly bare figure. He licked his lips to her displeasure, but she had to admit that the subtle action was a bit of a turn-on. She inclined her head in authority and dodged Sam’s glare.

Sam, glancing at her, grunted when Dean whirled around and slammed his elbow across the younger Hunter’s face. Maddie went to grab the gun that slipped from Sam’s hands, but Dean had grabbed her in a backward hug.

Her arms were pinned to her sides in the tall man’s grasp, which felt unbelievably strong despite his being human. She snarled through clenched teeth as she whipped around in Dean’s grip, but to no avail did he weaken. Anger flooded through her as she saw Sam holding his nose as he gathered himself to his feet, legs wobbling the slightest. He seemed to be focused on something else, for the glare he sent to nobody consumed his attention.

Maddie slammed her head into Dean’s face. She felt the sickening crunch of his nose, and when the Hunter’s hands flew to collect the river of blood dripping from his nose, the Rayner struck Dean’s face again with her elbow, landing a final punch to his cheek that she knew was a one-way ticket to unconsciousness.

She took the time to grab Sam’s hand and haul ass, her fingers reaching and grabbing the duffle bags settled on the couch right next to the doorless frame. The door was somewhere near the bed, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was getting the hell out of that damned room.

Sam seemed to fail at trying to keep up. He yanked his hand out of hers and ran to the driver’s door of his 2008 Dodge SRT8. It was a charcoal color, one that seemed to suit the younger Hunter, and Maddie thought it looked nice despite the pitch black night.

Her eyes adjusted immediately to the darkness. She risked a glance back at the doorway, where she expected a slightly-injured Dean to aim a gun at her and pull the trigger. But nothing was there. Her heart rose in her chest at the time bomb that was her temporary freedom. She tossed the bags into the backseat as she dove into the passenger’s seat feet first.

The car roared to life as Sam jammed the keys in the ignition. A Ladyheart song played rather loudly into the car as the Dodge backed into the road and screeched off. The tail careened to the left a bit, which brought back glorious memories of how defunct her street racing career is.

The back window shattered when bullets slammed into the glass.

A groan flew from her lips. She covered her head and glanced back toward the motel, where the outline of Dean Winchester stood on the road with his arm outstretched. Her teeth clenched, and once the car turned with the curve of the road, she looked back out of the windshield.

“Your brother’s a psychopath, Sam, I hope you know that,” she spat loudly, rolling down the window and letting the August air blow her ratty hair about her face.

A soft chuckle from Sam made her bubbly inside. “Yeah, I know. You didn’t have to do that, y’know. I could’ve handled him myself.” He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her. She glanced at him, taking note of the bags beneath his eyes.

After about twenty minutes of driving to no particular place, Maddie asked him to pull over. He protested, of course, saying that he was fine and insisting on driving some more. She decided to get forceful, throwing out a seemingly harmless threat or pickup line that seemed to make him more uncomfortable or flustered than ever.

Sam and Maddie traded seats in the car. He looked tall in the seat next to hers, which made her feel even punier compared to the Winchester.

It wasn’t until she pulled off the road did Sam speak. His voice cracked a bit, with exhaustion creeping into his words. “You’re not gonna go fast, are you? We already have Dean on our asses, so it’s best not to piss off the authorities.”

This time it was her turn to chuckle. She let one hand fall from the wheel and into her lap, while the other shifted to be at the top of the wheel. She pressed her foot harder on the accelerator. She glanced at him with a smirk and said, “You’re gonna have to trust me on this.”

#horrors and hunters #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam x ofc #sam x maddie #maddie rayner #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #odette annable #shit's gonna go down in a few chapters >:)

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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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chimchiminiekookie · 7 years

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Colorless | 01

Summary: The world is split in two, there are the colorless, and then there are the gifted, as in gifted with the sight of colors. Apparently, once you find your soulmate, when you really accept him or her, or when you finally realize that it's true love, the colorless are supposed to be able to see color.

Genre: Soulmate!AU

Member: Namjoon x reader

Word Count: 2,770

Author’s Note: Hey guys, so I’m a bit upset right now. I planned on having a new Between Worlds chapter out a couple of nights ago, and I was super sure that I put it in my queue, but nothing. It never uploaded and it’s nowhere to be found and I wrote the chapter on my brother’s laptop which he apparently deleted so now I’m stuck with absolutely nothing, I have to start chapter four COMPLETELY from scratch. I dunno, and I felt really bad and sad and just overall disappointed so I thought of making a short oneshot soulmate series for all the members, but please be patient because honestly, I have a hard time writing for other members, so I’ll be making them in order from who I have the hardest time writing about to the easiest . huhuhu sorry, but I’m gonna work on maybe Jin’s or J-Hope’s after I get at least 4 pages done on my 40 page term paper in Labor Economics, LOL school first. BTW, has anyone ever noticed how blessed Namjoon was by puberty?

“Namjoon was just the new student assistant at the library, so why does he keep giving you books on flowers?”

You sat in class staring out the window watching the class next door playing PE. They ran around as mud splashed their clothes disgusted by the brown mess they were making. You looked at the girl sitting next you you who sighed dreamily at your teacher.

You poked her shoulder, "Yah, are you actually attracted to him?" You looked at the teacher who you admit was handsome, he had platinum blonde hair, how he got away with it was beyond you, and he looked a few years older than you, he just was not someone who was worth getting in trouble over.

The girl next to you quickly regains her composure and clears her throat, "he's kind of nice isn't he? He tells really funny jokes." She giggles probably remembering one of them.

And you think back on those jokes, and no, they really weren't funny, cheesy maybe or perfect for someone like your father. The sound of the school bells catches your attention and has you jumping up to stand before the teacher could even dismiss you. You grab your bag and start making your way out the door, giving a playful salute to Mr. Kim on your way out.

"Thanks for that lesson on Julius Caesar Mr. Kim! I guess you could say he wanted to rule over Rome TOGA-ther with Cleopatra!" You heard the girl behind you make a joke that instantly brought Mr. Kim's laugh; something that may have sounded forced but was not, it really sounded like a windshield wiper.

You took your time walking through the corridor, having to wait after school for your mom to pick you up, turning corners you had memorized from spending so many days there after school, and then you stop in front of two large doors, the library.

You walk in without hesitation and a huge grin on your face with squinted eyes, "Hey Mrs. Lee! I hope you don't mind, not like you've minded before but I'll be staying here agai-" you settled your elbows on the librarians table counter and put your head in your hands only to come face to face with a blonde haired, blank faced boy who stared right back at you, blinking slowly.

You stared at him, seeing the grey outline around his iris, he was a colorless, you shake your head, "Sorry, uh, I thought it was just Mrs. Lee today. I shouldn't be any trouble; I only stay for an hour or two, three max."

He blinks a few more times at you, simply looking away and waving you off, "It's fine, my name is Kim Namjoon, and before you ask, no I'm not related to Mr. Kim, I just transferred here."

You start walking away, "You'll like it here." You find the familiar seat right next to the large Non-Fiction collection and you grab a random book, getting started on the first chapter.

The atmosphere was slightly awkward, seeing as all Namjoon did the first hour was stand around the librarian's table, you looked around and realized he still had a lot of books he needed to get sorted and if he stayed there the whole time, he would stay here until night time.

"Hey." You instantly catch his attention, "I don't know if you know this or not, but Mrs. Lee usually organizes the book since almost nobody comes in here."

"But what if someone comes in?"

You laugh out loud suddenly at his comment earning a confused look from Namjoon, "I'm not being rude or anything, but I swear, almost nobody ever comes here. And if anybody does, they'll ring the little bell on the table." He looked at you unsure, "If you're really that worried, I could even help you and call you when somebody does come in." You give him a wink.

He doesn't answer but simply walks away from the table, pushing one of many book carts along with him. He doesn't say much, but you come to realize that he must not be too strict when you find him rapping along to a song while organized the books, and that's how the rest of the time is spent; listening to Namjoon rap while pretending to read.

The days following that week, he wasn't there, but come Wednesday after that week, you come face to face with him once again. Except, this time, he had a yellow book clutched tightly in his hand.

"Wow, alone once again. Mrs. Lee must trust you with her precious books." You laugh.

"Here." He slides the book your way.

You stare at the book in confusion, "I wasn't reading this though."

"I know." He steps away from the table and continues on with organizing the books.

You slowly take your seat and look around finding he was too far to see what you were doing, so you opened the book and found that it was a book on Acacias, that and Namjoon had already stamped a return date on it, for next Thursday. You tilted your head and swayed it from left to right, trying to figure out what Namjoon was doing. So instead of reading like you had planned, you spent the entire time watching Namjoon, while unknown to you, he smiled slyly to himself. You realize that day that Namjoon was really tall. Two months pass by with that routine of yours, Namjoon hands you a book he borrowed in your name, and you sit around pretending to read while secretly watching him.

The following week, on Tuesday, you don't forget the book he borrowed in your name, you didn't exactly read it, but you did keep it tucked away in your backpack, not letting anyone see it or get it dirty.

You walk in the library straight to the librarian's table with the book tightly clutched in your arms. "Hi Namjoon, I wanted to ask why you gave this to me- oh, another one? Okay." You're caught off guard when he shoves another book in your arms after grabbing the yellow book he'd given you from last week, today; you notice his dimples while he smiled at your confused face.

You looked down at the book; the cover was red with gold lettering on the front, "A History on Tulips?" You looked at Namjoon unsurely, "Let me guess, I'll be returning it next week?"

The following week, Namjoon wasn't there, instead, it was Mrs. Lee, who greeted you with a dark red book with the word CARNATIONS on the front, "He asked me to give you this, because he has tutoring today." She smiled kindly at you.

You smiled back and you turned, only to turn back around and look at her, "Sorry, but do you know which room he's in?"

She looked at you for a second and rummaged through her table pulling out what looked like a post-it, she squinted as she tried to read the messy handwriting, "I believe this says 227"

"Thanks Mrs. Lee!" You give her a wave and you start running, scanning the room number you pass by on the second floor.

When you get to 227, you're panting and your feet are throbbing from running so much but that doesn't stop you from scanning the students sitting on the chairs, you furrow your eyebrows when you realize Namjoon isn't there, but instead, it's filled with a bunch of fourth years, you spot Yoongi dozing off and Hoseok sticking notes on Yoongi's back. You take a deep breath, realizing Namjoon's probably just running late and hold the doorknob, when you find the courage to open the door; everyone's already looking at you.

You bow quickly and state loudly, "I was hoping to get some advanced lessons!"

The room is dead quiet but a single voice has you opening your mouth like a fish, "Okay, just take whatever seat, the topic today is thermodynamics."

Apparently, contrary to what you believed, Namjoon wasn't taking tutoring classes, he was giving them, and that's how you found yourself sitting in a three hour session staring at Kim Namjoon as he talked about what he called laws of Thermodynamics. When the class was over, you got up stretching only to be patted on the shoulder by Yoongi.

"Don't get yourself into situations you can't get yourself out of kid." He chuckled.

You instantly blushed at Yoongi, who was ever the observant one, "So, what are you doing in a senior tutoring class?" You heard the smile in his voice.

"I just- I was going to- I wanted to ask you about late return fees because I might not be here to return these next week." You quickly make up an excuse, why did you come here?

"Well it's the same fees that are posted up on the front door; you must've seen it before right?" He laughed, "Is your mom pocking you up again?"

You look up at him and shake your head completely at loss for words.

"Great, let's go, I'll walk you home." He grabbed your bag and books, taking a second to look at the book he'd borrowed for you with a smile.

The walk home wasn't awkward, but it wasn't one filled with conversation either. You stared at your bag, the one filled with books and the one currently being carried by one Kim Namjoon.

"I can carry that, it's kind of heav-"

"Exactly, it is heavy, so I mist imagine you've been carrying it all day. I can do it." He slapped your hand away lightly.

"I didn't know you were a senior." You looked up at him, "I-I mean you have the height of one but seniors don't really help out at the library, since they have more things to worry about than overdue library books."

He chuckled and stared at the ground, "I'm not." He looked over at you, "I'm a junior just like you."

He kept staring which had you turning red and looking away, "So why are you tutoring a bunch of seniors on thermodynamics?"

"And Trigonometry and basic Calculus." He stated in a matter of factly voice.

"What?"

"I'm tutoring seniors in Thermodynamics, Trigonometry and basic Calculus." He corrected.

"Oh, you must be pretty smart then." You try to make small talk, "Your eyes. I mean, if it's not a sensitive topic, you're colorless right?"

He looks at you quietly and blinking his eyes, "It's not and I am."

"How is it? I read a few books on it, but it's probably not as detailed coming from someone who's actually explaining it."

He started to walk slowly, "It's kind of dull actually. You wake up to grey and you go to sleep to grey and every time you see someone you find yourself attracted to, it's like you're just wishing for color to explode right before your eyes. But it doesn't and that's just soul wrenching." He looks at your worried face, "But I've come to find life has gotten tremendously brighter lately."

"This is my stop." You smile at him, "Thanks for walking me home."

He scratches the back of his head, "Thanks for letting me." He lets out a nervous laugh and hands you your bag and books, "Be sure to bring that on Monday next week." He points at the book.

"Will do. Bye Namjoon." You stare at his retreating figure, which to your surprise, hasn't turned back around to walk the right way, he continues waving until he hits the mailbox and completely topples over it quickly standing back up and running back from where you had just come from.

You realize that day that Namjoon was practically a genius and he was clumsy, but in a cute way, definitely cute.

Monday the following week rolls around but you find yourself sick, so you lay in bed all day texting your classmates for the homework, they said they'd bring it over, but it's already past 7 and they're lack of presence has you doubting on whether they even remembered.

"Aren't you just the handsomest thing!?" You hear your mother's shrill voice coo at an unknown person making you sit up.

"Honey! I'm opening the door!" She calls out and all you do is cough in response.

You expected to find Changkyun, or maybe even Hanbin if she called him handsome, but to your surprise, it was Namjoon, carrying all the books he’d borrowed in your name the past few months and a stack of papers, which was probably your homework.

"Hi." You stared at him with wide eyes.

"I dropped by your class to pick up your homework since I heard from Mr. Kim that you were out sick, and I even brought a few books for you to read." He said sheepishly.

"I'll leave you two alone." Your mother squealed at you two giving you a wink that had your face heating up despite the chills you were currently experiencing.

"Thanks for the homework." You laugh, "I thought my classmates forgot about me."

He settles on the chair near you study table after placing the books near your bed, "I saw them on my way to see you so I just insisted that I'd take it to you instead." He fiddles with the rubics cube on the desk.

"I already borrowed a bunch of these books."

He quickly stands up and looks at the books, "Here. You haven't borrowed this one." He hands you the deep red cover with the title, "Roses, the flowers of love"

"Thanks." You look at the books, "You know I haven't actually read any of these right?" You laugh.

"Yeah, so you better get started, they're all due next week." He hands you another book, "Here, this might help you understand why I've been giving you books." You looked at the cover and realize it's a book on Flowers and their meaning.

You furrow your eyebrows but still smile shyly at him, "Why do you borrow books for me? Especially since you know I don't read them."

He slowly looks up at you, "Well I know you don't read them, but I at least expected you to skim them." He laughs, "But you didn't so that's why I came here with all these books.

He goes to the first one, and opens it up, "Yellow Acacias mean concealed love." He takes out a flattened yellow acacia, handing it to you. You blindly take it staring at him in utter shock.

He takes the second book, the one on tulips and takes out the tulip with the corresponding color, and so on with the rest.

"And finally." He takes the book on roses and opens it taking out the deep red rose flattened by the pages, "A red Rose means passionate love. The most cliché and utterly cheesy flower that there is." He looks at your shocked face and laughs, "Here, go ahead that take this." He hands you the rose.

By this time, your hands were filled with a bouquet of flattened flowers of all different colors and kind with only one meaning.

Love

"H-h-how?" You find the voice the speak, but it's only a whimper of a question.

"When I saw you that day in the library when I first started there, it was as if all this color exploded right before my eyes, and then I realized, it was you." You continued to stare dumbfounded at him, "Your hair was a mess probably from running your hands over it so many times, your eyes were bright as if you were somewhere far away in that library, and even though most people would say you looked like a mess that day, to me you looked absolutely beautiful, especially because your eyes glowed a little brown instead of the usual black I saw and your lips were red from biting them so much, and all that there was, was you." He sat on the bed near your feet.

"I don't know how I lasted so long without you." He whispered before he leaned in and kissed you.

Even though you could see all these colors, when he kissed you, it's like everything exploded all over, as if you finally understood everything Namjoon had been telling you for weeks.

You rested you forehead on his and smiled, "I love you too, Namjoon."

“I’m pretty sure you can get a special student assistant extension on these books’ due dates.” He joked.

Come the following week, you couldn't exactly put your classmates in their places when they started teasing you about Namjoon, especially when he picked you up from class to take you to the library, all you could do was take his hand and be led to the very room you first fell in love, you couldn’t exactly complain, and even if you could, you didn’t want to.

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