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evilfloralfoolery · 15 days

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Along Came Fire - Avery/Blair, Pt. 2

A lot more snz and misery in this lol. Avery showing her true colors. Blair being unbearably into it. Both of them wondering about the other. Plz enjoy my hasty edit! :)

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By the time the heaters in the stadium get the memo, the set is over and Blair has had just about enough of this frigid bullshit.

He’d managed to fend off whatever fuckery his sinuses were concocting during the performance, but now, it’s gotten to the point where no amount of shallow breathing and nose rubbing will do the trick. His body has just had enough of him.

And the feeling is fucking mutual.

Blair cringes against his knuckled fingers with a flash of teeth. "HhhRISSCH! –RIIHHHSSCHuh! EKTSSCH! UhhhCHHSSSH!" He pauses, breath a hitching, ragged heave. "Hhh–RIISSSCCHHiiiuuhh!"

"What, you're not going to try for an even six?”

He stops with the miserable, wet sniffling and glances over his shoulder.

It's her. Just standing there with a laminate around her neck, like she belongs there. No idea where she’d gotten the pass, but he’s not going to ask questions, especially not with the way she’s looking at him right now. Kind of like how the Blond Wonder looked at him, but with a more curious sort of concern rather than outright, overly empathetic gawking.

Hard not to stare back at that mane of hers with all the red, orange, and yellow competing for space, a vibrant cascade of fire that has the nerve to call itself “hair.”

“Hey.” She waves a hand in front of his face with a bit of a laugh. “Are you okay in there?”

He offers her a slow blink in tandem with the realization that he has said nothing to indicate an answer.

“I am,” he says. “Just too damn cold.” One eyebrow arches high. “Are you?”

She tilts her head. “Cold?”

“Okay,” he clarifies.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” She combs her hair away from her face with one hand and laughs. "I’m pretty sure I left puncture wounds on that idiot, so there’s that."

Probably. He hadn't missed how aggressive she'd been. Kind of a firecracker for such a slender chick.

Hot.

"Yeah, well. Guys are assholes." He offers her a smirk. "But I'm a bigger asshole."

"Good quality, if you ask me." Her smile is a sly mirror of his own.

“Damn straight.” He tugs at the knot on his bandana out of habit. “Avery, right?”

“Yep.” She pokes him in the chest with one finger. “You didn’t tell me you were the bass player.”

Cue the smartass eyebrow arch. “You didn’t ask.”

“I don't usually introduce myself and then be like, ‘so, do you play the bass?’ ”

“Why not. Good conversation starter.”

She flicks a piece of his hair with a pop of her fingers. “You're weird.”

He’ll take that.

But what he’s not going to take is any more shit from his sinuses. Sort of. Goddamn it.

She does the curious, cocked head thing again at his abrupt change of energy and asks the obvious question. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’ssss uuhhh-hhhheh!” He holds up a hand to politely silence furthering questioning, breath catching in his throat with a choppy attempt to draw in enough air. "Heeh-hh. . . Hh'RISSSCHU! Hkg–CHISSSHUHH! Fuck." He rubs at his nose with a sniffle. "Hhngh, sorry. The cold fucks me up."

"I can tell," she says as he sneezes again with twice the force and less control.

Goddamn it.

"God bless," she says in this voice that's somewhere between concerned and a bit. . . something else.

Interesting . . .

"Stick around and you'll get sick of saying that real fast," he says.

She laughs, but doesn't refute him. She does, however, close the distance between them unexpectedly. "Hold on." A hand reaches up to adjust the apparently lopsided bandana tied around his head. "You're about to sneeze this off."

"Heh, thanks." He fiddles with the knot on the thing and tightens it. "Wouldn't be the first time." He regards her with a slow, assessing tilt of his head. “Feel like sticking around?”

Her eyes are the lightest shade of honey gold he’s ever seen. And to think she asked him about contacts.

“Sure,” she says. “You might need someone to fix that bandana again.” A faint hint of super white and slightly pointed teeth peek from behind her lips, which is so absurdly attractive to him, he shoves a hand in his pocket to keep it to himself.

But that still leaves him with one. Which he holds out to her.

It only takes her a second to decide to fork over her fingers, which slide into the width of his palm like something delicate and precious. Compared to Blair, most people are on the smaller side, but while Avery is tall, she's particularly slender of frame, a fact that is emphasized by the tight black pants and matching bodysuit with strategically placed fabric slashes she’d chosen for the gig. It highlighted the fuck out of her multi-colored hair. Like autumn leaves in a jeweled pit fire.

“Hungry?” he asks as he leads her down the rowdy expanse of the corridor where musicians and techs alike are loudly congratulating themselves over the success of the show.

“I could eat something,” she says.

So could he.

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The booth is a semicircle, not one of those across the table deals. And she sits close to him, so close that her leg presses against his thigh.

He's not sure what he's done to elicit that kind of contact, but he wants more. So, he does the cheesy movie thing and drapes an arm across her shoulders, casually at first, but when she willingly curls closer against his side, he ups his game with an upper arm squeeze.

Damn, she smells good. Like spring rain and oleander.

"Are you still cold?"

He nuzzles her thick hair. "Not as much."

Mainly because she's a fucking furnace, like a personal space heater. No complaints from him.

Well, except for the goddamn prickling the "defrost" is causing in his sinuses. No, dammit. He's not unwinding his arm from her lithe body.

He unrolls the napkin-wrapped silverware and snaps the thing open, but doesn't quite make it.

"HhhRISSCH! ISSCCHUH!" His lip curls away from his teeth in a snarl of irritation and he clamps the napkin over his mouth and nose. "AahhRISSCHuh! IKGSSSH-U!" He sniffles and dabs at his nose with a hint of a smirk. "Hnnnh, sorry I'm so goddamn sexy."

She laughs in a high, almost tittering way that is reminiscent of something he can't quite place, but he likes it.

"I think I can handle you." She hooks a piece of his hair that escaped his bandana behind one ear. "God bless."

Her breath tickles his ear and coaxes the hair on his arms to stark attention.

"Hmn, thanks." His voice drops to a lower, darker version of itself. "You want a steak?"

"Sure," she says. "Purrs" is a better word. "I like meat."

The way she says that is hotter than it has any right to be.

"Yeah?" He rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. "How do you like your meat?"

Her lips brush the line of his jaw with scantist touch. "Extra rare."

Okay, fuck it.

He shifts his body just enough to slide a hand into her hair and leans in close, pausing just shy of capturing that mischievous mouth of hers. Makes her wait for it. Teases her with a faint exchange of breath. But when the tip of her tongue darts out to just barely flick his lower lip, he’s over it.

And damn, can she kiss. It’s electricity and fire, the slow, smoldering promise of something far more urgent, but deftly restrained. His body finally gets the message and switches on the heat until his skin is feverishly hot. Sharp nails dig into his shoulders just enough to make temporary, pointed crescents in the flesh and he sits back against the vinyl seat as the kiss recedes, the faintest wisp of smoke curling from his lips.

“Goddamn.” His eyes flutter shut for a moment and he exhales a breath from the depths of his chest, as if he’d been holding it for hours.

Nails drag down his forearm in a light, affectionate scratch. “Been a while?”

“Oh yeah,” he says.

A long fucking while.

__________________________________________________________

The seated dinner had turned into “fuck an hour wait, room service is better” and man, had he made the right choice.

The idiots in the kitchen had forgotten the steak knives and rather than ask some underpaid kid to go seventeen floors down to get a couple, Blair and his “date” had opted for the more barbaric option.

Just pick the shit up and eat it.

Now, watching Avery snack on that rare slab of meat was hotter than any porno could ever be. There is something primal about the way she takes small, but efficient bites of the steak, the way she sort of tears off a chunk and licks her fingers afterwards. And when he doesn't eat the entirety of his own steak, she finishes it for him.

Where the hell had she put it all? The woman is a slender wisp of a person.

If that’s what she actually is.

It's the same thing with Caspian. A flash of something wild. That “otherness.” He’s seen it before. Plenty of times.

“I don’t usually do this, you know,” she is saying as she licks the last of the blood and juices from between her fingers.

“And what’s that?”

She flashes him her super pearly whites. “Eat meat with strange men.”

He chuckles and it morphs into a bit of a cough, reminding him that the surge of heat between them earlier hadn’t been enough of a catalyst to jumpstart his body into actually doing anything about his damn "illness."

Her expression morphs from playful to concerned and she sets the plate on the nightstand. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” He wipes at the edges of his nose with a clean napkin and winces. “Still too goddamn cold, I guess.”

That fucking nose ring. Not like he could just take the bastard out without some pliers. Special ones.

Avery moves closer, but he holds up a hand to stop her progress, his breath hitching in ragged, uneven catches.

“Hhheh—! RISSSCCH–UHH! ISSCCHHU! Mother. Fucker.” He growls to himself and drops the napkin in favor of the box of tissues that she’s now offering him.

Fuck it, he’s taking the whole box.

“Thanks,” he says in a tone that is way more grumbling grouchiness than he means it to be.

But she’s obviously not put off by that because she’s suddenly right beside him, her hand on his thigh, even though he’s gross as hell whilst taking care of his dripping sinuses.

“Sorry,” he says with a sigh. “Was hoping this shit would just let up or fuck off.”

“Stop apologizing.” She rolls her eyes a little and he’s reminded of the same exasperation Caspian uses for Miami, which is more than a touch amusing. “I’m not worried about your cold or whatever it is.” She tosses all of that flaming hair over one shoulder. “I like a guy that can be a hot mess and own it.”

Blair laughs. “Jackpot, then.”

“You can lie down, you know.” She pats the top of his free hand. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you’re tired.”

After tossing the tissues into the trash, he slips her fingers into his palm and scratches his thumbnails over her knuckle. “Mmn, I’m not that tired.”

She leans in for a kiss and he affords her the opportunity with eager reception. Doesn't stop her when she presses herself against him again. In fact, he pretty much pulls her into his lap and she’s happy to be there, given the way she’s kicked off her boots and settled in.

“I’m not contagious,” he says.

Her hands slide over his chest and clutch the fabric of his shirt. “Wouldn’t care if you were.”

“Want me to take this off?” He tugs at the edge of his shirt.

“No,” she says. “I want to take it off.”

If his eyebrow arched any higher, it would disappear into his hairline. “Okay.” He leans back against the bed frame and lets go of her hips. “All yours.”

(TBC...)

#Eff writes #Avery and Blair #This is where I stopped writing last time #But I've already written most of a part three lol #You'll find out a lot about these two in that part #Some things will suddenly make sense #And some absolutely won't #OOOOO AAAAHHH A MYSSSTTERRRRYYY #Have I mentioned how great it is to be fucking WRITING again??#Now to compose some music for these two #I'm on FIRE!#LOL pun fully intended #I AM a fire sign after all

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 8 months

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Random au because I can't stop thinking about this:

On the doc Mike and Pac found in the prison said that if Walter Bob completed that specific task he would be free from the jail/no longer a prisoner, right? (MY memory isn't the best so maybe this is a bit wrong but that is what we have for today folks augstwfwywfrqcw)

What if one day he finishes the task and Cucorucho with a smile brings him to another federation building and asks him to get into a room

Days later Fit is asked to clean a room, no big deal, another day of honest work where he starts lurking around looking for anything that could be useful for him and his mission

And then, in another place that he isn't suppose to be, but that he got into anyway is a... something. In the corner. It's small, it's scared, maybe even trembling a little bit and tired, very tired.

It's an egg.

When he enters, it turns around to face him and Fit freezes for a second because now he can clearly read the name on top of the kid.

"Walter Bob"

Well, he isn't coming out of that building alone.

Also! For fluff purposes! Imagine he bringing him to show Pac and Mike, like, Walter Bob doesn't have the memories of Before but he can't help but feel at ease around those "strangers" and their vibrant, lively energy, especially because they seem to like be around him as well, always full of hugs and itens and new places to show around.

Ramon being a good older brother! Showing him how to explode things and being perfect to bring his more quiet and chaotic side.

The fact that before he couldn’t remember ever having a bed just the cold metal of the cell and the guards shouting and pain and experiments and cold cold cold

But now it's different! Now he has a family, people from everywhere smiling and talking to him and helping and saying strange, kind things like that their house is his as well and that if he ever ever need he could call

And then Forever reforms the NINHO to have another room and Bad calls him to chat while making his buildings and Baghera gives him a bunch of invisible potions so they can hang around listening to gossips and Philza is always chill in letting him visit and Foolish laugh and goof around like nothing could ever go wrong everytime he gets too anxious and Mike and Pac are there and...

And Richas gives him beautiful paintings to put in his room and Dapper show him all his cool animal collection and Leo take him to a train ride and Tallulah helps him to decorate his room and...

And and and

(And the hope is there, it hurts too much to bare sometimes, like it's a knife that already cut him before.

But little by little, with time, the wounds begins to heal)

#this is literally me in despair for any kind of fluff with Walter bob pls mah man already suffered SO MUCH #and yeah I feel like this outcome is very ooc but WELL OH WELL what is this??? logic in my au #??? no thanks I will take the domestic fluff #qsmp #qsmp au #maybe I will write an oneshot for this later #i really just want them to be a big family aaaaa ♡♡♡♡#walter bob #ALSO THIS GIVES CHANCE FOR PAC AND FIT GET CLOSER I MEAN COUGH COUGH CO-PARENTING AM I RIGHT #watch Mike discovers that fit has a new egg and it's Walter Bob and suddenly getting all his things and moving to Fit's house #w Pac following behind like 'sorry sorry we're all like a package deal now yeah I don’t think Mike is gonna let him go for some time sooo...#Sleepover time :DDDD #(Mike would like to just get Walter Bob and run for it but he doesn’t want to wake any bad memory so :(#also the angst potential of them realizing that he holds no memory of his past. of what they have lived together in that prison.#of Walter Bob sometimes seeing the fed buildings he did and feeling an horrible dread overcoming him for some reason.#the way that he is tired most of the time and how visiting some places makes him have such a strong sense of dejavu #yeah yeah anyway I am. full of thoughts.#Pac #Mike #Fit

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