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earlysunsetsoverambrose · 4 years ago

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Kodachrome (2/5)

Bo Sinclair x f!Reader

Warning: Cursing

You made your way to the gas station, a cold bottle of beer in one hand. The heat made an already surly Bo somehow grumpier, but a beer was a surefire way to not immediately get your head bitten off. You rounded the entry into the garage to find Bo, hunched under the hood of his truck.

“Hey Bo-”

“Fuck off, I’m busy.” He snapped; his voice muffled as he continued working.

“Fine, in that case, guess I’ll take this ice-cold beer back up to the house.” You taunted as you feigned to turn a leave. You saw Bo snap up with a whistle to stop you,

“Hold up! Park it.” He ordered, kicking a stool in your direction. You smiled, having gotten your way and made yourself comfortable on your designated seat. You held out the beer to Bo,

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Read my mind, darlin’.” Bo said, snatching the bottle and jimmying the top off. You watched for a moment as he took a few big gulps before letting out a sigh of contentment.

“Have you ever considered maybe drinking water? At least when it’s hot as hell outside?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Have you ever considered not bein’ a pain in my ass? Ever?” Bo snarked back.

“You’re literally drenched in sweat. You’re going to get dehydrated or get heatstroke.” You warned.

“Gonna be sweaty either way, might as well be sweaty with a beer.” Bo shrugged.

“How would you like to be sweaty and dead?” You quipped only half serious.

“What’s the big deal? Beer? Water? They’re both liquids. That’s good enough, ain’t it?” Bo said sarcastically, unbothered. You rolled your eyes at his cavalier attitude. He gestured to the camera hanging around your neck, “What the hell are you carryin’ that around for?”

“To take pictures.” You said simply.

“What? Like, nudes?” Bo asked with a smirk, knowing it would irritate you.

“No, get your head out of the gutter for once.” You chided with a cross of your arms, “I meant pictures of you, me, Vincent, and Lester.”

“Pass.” Bo said with a snort with another sip of his beer. You made a noise of disbelief at his response.

“You can’t ‘pass’ on making memories, Bo!” You said with a small stomp of your foot.

“Unless those memories involve someone I ain’t related to gettin’ naked, I ain’t interested.” Bo insisted, “Besides, I see Vincent and Lester every damn day, the hell do I need pictures of them for? So, they can keep annoying me even when they’re busy?”

“I just think we need to more pictures around the house. You never know if you might want to look back on these days. Plus, it’s a distraction from the heat.” You said. Bo scoffed as he took another swig of beer, “There a problem with that?”

“No, no problem. Just don’t figure there’s much of anythin’ worth capturin’ is all. Same shit every day. What priceless moments do you think you’ll miss? Lester’s first bath?” Bo prodded with a hearty laugh.

“Laugh it up, all you want, Bo!” You said passionately, “Some people want to remember things, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Christ, I didn’t say there was anythin’ wrong with it! I’m just not seein’ the potential you’re seein’, is all. I’m the twin that sucks at the whole artist thing. You know that, right?” Bo said raising his hands in a defensive gesture.

“There’s plenty worth remembering.” You said “It doesn’t have to be special. Maybe something that made me laugh or I’m just feeling particularly happy. Don’t you want to document moments like that? Even little ones?”

“Anythin’ I wanna remember, I’m gonna remember. Got it all up here.” Bo insisted, tapping his temple with the mouth of his beer bottle.

“But pictures can take you back to a moment in its entirety. The feelings, the clothes you wore, the atmosphere, the people you were with, it’s all there exactly as you lived it. You’d be surprised how many details fall through the cracks. I’m sometimes afraid I’ll eventually forget people’s faces entirely without their picture.” You reasoned.

Your mind drifted back to your own memories and people you wished to remember. You hadn’t brought any photos with you when you ended up in Ambrose, so you knew there’d be people who were once important to you that you’d eventually struggle to recall. You hadn’t thought about the friends and family you left behind in such a long time. The things they liked, all the time you spent with them, even their names were starting to fade; so were their faces. You were suddenly painfully aware you weren’t sure if your best friend’s eyes were brown or blue. Did you ever notice that or had you forgotten? You realized this passion project of yours might be as much for you as it is for the brothers. You didn’t even notice the miniscule tears in the corners of your eyes. Bo noticed. He recognized your faraway stare and spoke up before you spiraled down the tangent in your mind,

“Yeah, well, take as many cheesy, crappy pictures as you want, just make sure to get my good side.” He teased, drawing you out of your haze. You couldn’t help but smile at his comments as you were brought back to the present. His flippant remarks were his way of throwing you a life raft.

“You have a good side?” you quipped, playing along. Bo’s smirk fell as he shot you a half-hearted glare,

“Yeah, it’s my backside. Why don’t you give it a smooch?” he drawled, before moving to toss his now empty beer bottle.

“C’mon, really think on it. Isn’t there anything or any moment from your life you wished you had a picture of?” you asked.

“No fuckin’ way. I’m happy not havin’ a visual reminder of the stupid things my mother made me wear.” Bo said confidently, “Like that ridiculous monkey suit for church on Sunday. And the godawful way she parted my hair. No ma’am, some things are best forgotten.”

“But consider this: no one will ever know what you looked like when you were younger. You can say you were a handsome son of bitch all you want, but you can’t really prove it, can you? No pictures, no proof.” You argued playfully.

“I’ve got plenty of proof! Look at me! There’s your proof!” Bo bantered along, “I’m a ten now and I was a ten back then. Simple logic.”

“You’re a ten, alright.” You admitted sarcastically as you pulled the camera up to your face, pointing it after Bo as he returned to his truck, placing his hand on the raised hood and leaning on it.

“Sure am.”

“Ten out of twenty.” You quickly jabbed, laughing hysterically at Bo’s expense at your verbal dunk on him. Bo rolled his eyes as he flipped you off without a second thought. With a click of your camera, you saved the moment forever. You quickly stuck the picture in your back pocket to let it develop.

“Hilarious, Little Miss Paparazzi. Now beat it, my break’s over, I’ve got work to do.” Bo said as he leaned in over the engine. You moved to stand beside him at the hood, looking up at him to get in your last bit of sassing before he kicked you out.

“But you’re the boss, so the break is only over when you want it to be over.” You said matter-of-factly. Bo rolled his eyes, standing straight once more to look down at you.

“You’re right, I am the boss. And I say break’s over, so hit the bricks, kid.” He said gruffly as he ruffled your hair before taking you by the shoulders and spinning you around toward the exit.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” You asked sarcastically.

“Since the day we met.” Bo replied without missing a beat, giving you a playful shove with a light kick to the butt.

“Fine, I’ll go. Will you at least try to drink some water at some point today?” you asked as you started to leave.

“Get lost, Y/N.” He said, ignoring your concern entirely.

“See you later, Bo.”

Despite his attitude, you still smiled as you made your way out. Whether he meant to or not, he’d made you smile when you might have cried instead. And you’d get to remember that moment forever.

#my writing #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #House of Wax #house of wax 2005 #kodachrome #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #tw: cursing #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #female reader

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invaderdoom78 · 5 years ago

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Fright Twilight (the dumbest title ever) part 2

Part 2 of @julielilac gift set.

With Jerry very obviously now dead and Charley very obviously still alive Peter helped the young man get back to his feet, making sure to keep the weight off of the injured leg, both of them blissfully unaware of the of the unbridled fury that was simmering inside of Aro as he watched them. Clenching the muscles in his jaw tightly, Aro managed to hold his tongue as he eyed down Peter helping Charley limp his way out of the deceased vampires lair; while Jane watched them blankly and Alec was feeling just the slightest bit of concern for the hunters safety. Placing a gentle hand on the twins upper backs Aro lead them out of the basement lair as well, taking them out through a back entrance so no humans would spot them, as even in his rage he wanted to make sure the two got on the plane back to Volterra safely (because there is nothing anyone can do to convince me that he doesn’t have parenteral feelings for them and if you feel otherwise, you’re lyin’ to yourself). With him and Charley now safely outside Peter loaded the young man into the back of his car, so he could prop up his injured leg, before running over to the diver’s side. Starting up the car Peter pointed it in the direction of the nearest hospital while also attempting to get in touch with Jane Brewster. Since Jerry's lair was at least an hour away from where Charley and his mother lived Peter knew he’d have to stick around until she got there; not only so he could tell the doctors any medical information Jane had given him, but also so he could relay anything the doctors had told him before she got there before finally heading home. Once he got back to his house the first thing Peter did was kick off his shoes and tossed his car keys into the small bowel he kept by the front door before making a b-line towards his bar, blissfully unaware of the fact that he was not alone. “For fucks sake!” Peter exclaimed, almost dropping the bottle of Midori he was holding when he spotted Aro in the dark sitting in one of the high back chairs by the fireplace, reading from one of the books he had left behind for when he came for a visit “will you stop breaking into my house. You scared the shit out of me! Why are you here, anyway?” He set down his glass and the bottle “shouldn’t you be heading back to Volterra with the twins?” ”I’m here to punish you for your naughty behavior earlier” Aro said dryly, not looking up from his book “...If you’re talking about me and Charlie, that was a friendly kiss” Peter said, waiting for a response from the vampire only to have him slam his book shut and then down onto the end table “fine. Jeez” he picked his half filled glass, downing it’s contents within an instant “I am gonna go to bed now so feel free to sit out here for the rest of the night and pout all you want” Slipping out of his jacket Peter dropped it on the back of a bar stool while Aro silently followed him with his eyes as he walked back into his bedroom; stripping out of all of his clothing, leaving them lying on the floor. Pushing the crumpled sheets out of the way Peter collapsed face down onto his bed, using his feet to kick the bed sheets until he was able to grab hold of them and pull them at least half way up his body before almost instantly falling asleep, exhausted and already a bit sore from the nights previous escapades. The next day he was awoken by the sun shining directly into his eyes. Groaning the vampire hunter grabbed his second pillow and used it to cover his face in a desperate attempt to fall back asleep, only giving up once it became beyond painfully obvious that it wasn’t going to happen. Throwing the pillow onto the ground Peter kicked off his blankets and rolled out of bed, grabbing his silk robe and wrapping it around himself, before stepping out into the living room, finding that all of the clothing he’d left on the floor, and not just what had been left there from the previous night, had been neatly folded and placed on the chair Aro had been sitting in earlier. Picking up the folded clothing Peter went to throw them into his laundry room looking for any trace of Aro on the way, but not finding any. Pushing open the door to the laundry room with his foot, he dropped all of the clothes he was holding into the washer when he felt a sudden presence behind him, standing barely an inch away. “Fuck!” Peter exclaimed somewhat angrily, at the vampire’s sudden appearance behind him “will you stop sneaking up on me” “Good morning, Vincent” Aro said, voice barely above a whisper, his lips ghosting across Peters, as he rested both of his hands on the others chest, one slipping underneath the robe “did you sleep well?” “Y-yeah” Peter said, leaning back against the washer “how was your night?” “Fine” Aro said, not moving from the position he had them in, the hand he’d slipped underneath the robe gently stroking the flesh above his heart “Do you have any plans for today?” Aro asked, as Peter placed his hands on the vampire’s hips “No” Peter said quietly, leaning forward in an attempt to connect their lips, only to have Aro pull back just enough to keep the hunter from getting what he wanted “Marvelous” Aro said stepping away completely Turning out of the small room the vampire walked away, the slightest bit of an extra sway to his hips as he walked, leaving Peter flustered and still leaning back against the washer as he watched Aro leave. After a minute of deepish breathing Peter was able to pry himself away from the machine and follow the other man out of the tiny tiny room. Readjusting the opening of his robe the hunter wandered into his kitchen intending to make himself some kind of breakfast, but was left staring in front of an almost completely empty fridge. Groaning at the lack of food in his house Peter was about to give up his search of the cold box when he saw a carton of eggs sitting in the very back, praying that the container had some heft to it when he picked it up; he couldn’t have been more relieved when he felt that one end was very obviously heavier than the other, now he didn’t have to go out and get groceries until tomorrow, you know, if he remembered. Walking over to the stove, he grabbed his only frying pan and turned on the flame, vaguely aware of the fact that Aro was once again invading his personal bubble, but this time the vampire was making sure there was no physical contact between them. Leaning in close enough for Peter to feel his breath tickling the back of his neck Aro started up an innocent conversation as the hunter attempted to cook himself up some eggs. Though it didn’t take long into the conversation for Aro to start giving Peter gentle lingering brushes of his hand against his skin and brief teasing touches, that were kept up throughout the day, slowly increasing in frequency; especially when Peter began leaning into them, which really didn’t take very long. Once his breakfast was cooked Peter quickly slipped the eggs onto a plate before scurrying over to the bar so he could have a place to sit and eat, thankful that the vampire didn’t follow him, instead choosing to go off to another part of the house to let him eat in relative peace, as he would occasionally pass by to give him a few more gentle touches. When he finished eating Peter left the plate in the sink, half full of dirty dishes, and wandered out into the living room, hearing a faint vibration coming from somewhere in the room. Looking around, he spotted Aro’s phone, that he’d gotten so he and Peter could keep in touch while they were apart, that had been left behind on the couch by the vampire, Janes name flashing across the caller id. “Hey” Peter said, draping himself over the back of the couch so he could grab the phone and answer it “everything alright?” “Yeah” Jane said from the other end, sounding only mildly surprised that Aro wasn’t the one to answer “we were just calling to let Aro know we landed” “Alright I’ll let him know” Peter said, letting a small pause linger to make sure that neither she or her brother had anything else to say “...bye” “Was that Jane and Alec?” Aro asked, as Peter handed him his phone “Yeah, Jane said they just landed” “Wonderful!” Aro said, looking relieved Eventually the two got settled in together on the couch with Peter turning on his T.V., flipping through a lot of channels until he eventually settled on watching Salem's Lot (because why the fuck not). The two sat in silence as the movie was just a way to waste some time, but at some point past the halfway mark of the movie Peter had slouched into Aro’s side, resting his head against the vampire's shoulder. Using the hunters sudden desire to show affection to his advantage Aro turned his head so he could place a gentle kiss on his humans temple, nuzzling his cheek against the messy hair. Despite his cold-ish skin Aro’s lips were warmer than expected and after so much not enough physical contact Peter found himself craving some vampiric kisses. Regardless of the fact that he knew what the hunter was thinking, thanks to his gift, Aro decided to amp up his displays of affection a bit as he began to gently comb his fingers through the others hair, patiently waiting for Peter to make the first move. It didn’t take much longer after that, though, for Peter to start craning his neck so he could finally get a proper kiss; their lips molding more firmly together as the two turned to face each other so the kiss wouldn’t be quite as awkward. Reaching up, Aro gently cupped the vampire hunters face in his hands as Peter placed his on the vampire's waist. Both of their lips were insistent in their movements against each other as their bodies shifted ever so slightly closer together, their heads tilting to the side, allowing the kiss to deepen, a small groan escaping from Peter as Aro gently nipped at his bottom lip until he eventually relented and allowed the vampire’s tongue to enter his mouth as his fought back in a battle for dominance, quickly losing. Pulling away Peter took a moment to catch his breath before diving back into the kiss, allowing Aro to pull him down with him into the couch and wrap his arms around his neck as their tongues began to battle for dominance once again, Peter winning this time, free to explore the vampires mouth as his hand slid up inside the vampires shirt, gently caressing the swell of the other’s hip with his thumb as he moved down to kiss along the underside Aro’s jawline lingering over his almost non-existent pulse point. Everything was going great, that was until Peters phone went off with a text from Charlie’s mother about how her son was doing; having received a twisted ankle, a few broken ribs, along with a minor concussion from the fight, and that they’d just left the hospital did Aro’s mood seem to shift again, though this time it was much more subtle.

#aro volturi #Peter Vincent #twilight #Fright Night 2011 #vampire x vampire hunter au #michael sheen #David Tennant #ineffable husbands au #vincturi

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marie-dufresne · 5 years ago

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Grimmy The Period Hero

Ficlet for @dirge-of-valentinex4, based on a conversation we had ages ago.

Grimmy Valentine was fifteen years old and on a mission.

After witnessing a female classmate suffer a rather embarrassing situation regarding her red moon, he vowed he would be as much help to the ladies in his presence as much as was possible.

He’d switched his messenger bag out for one of his camping backpacks and had utilized several compartments already. One for fun sized chocolates, one for ibuprofen, some extra money for the vending machines if his snack selection was not to their liking, and now he needed one more thing.

So down the stairs he pranced in search of his mother who, of anyone in the house, would be an expert on these matters.

He happened upon his father first, seated on the couch with a book and Grimmy leaned over the back, grip tight behind the cushions as he lifted his feet off the ground, lanky legs up in the air for a moment before he set himself back down and pressed his cheek up against Vincent’s, ignoring the discontented grunt that came from his father’s throat.

“Hmmmmmmmmm, yes yes, fascinating,” he muttered, stroking the chin that had exactly four tiny hairs on it and pretending to read whatever was written on the page.

The interruption did not linger, as he pushed himself off of the sofa and spun, headed into the kitchen where he spied his mother cooking with his older brother, Alexander.

They were having family dinner tonight, Alexander having just finished his mid-term exams at his first year in grad school and Grimoire (who Grimmy was very proudly named for) returned from a trip to India.

The two boys eagerly awaited his stories.

Grimmy had been upset that Grandfather didn’t take him but it was still the school year and he eventually conceded to wait until Summer before adventuring out of the county.

“Hey Mama do you still get your period?”

Pulling two eggs, a bottle of cream, and a stick of butter from the refrigerator, Marie closed the appliance with her foot, nodding.

“I do, why?”

At his place at the counter chopping potatoes, Alexander was frozen, mortified. Whether his horror came from how brazenly Grimmy asked or how comfortably Mama responded, he wasn’t quite sure.

“I need some tampons.”

The knife just barely missed Alexander’s knuckle as it came down, unsteady in his grip. Honestly. This was…well this was typical if he was being entirely honest with himself but did Grimmy have to ask for…those in front of him? And where Papa could hear? Why did he want them anyway?

A question Marie asked outwardly with furrowed brows as she opened up her baking cabinet, standing on her toes to reach for the flower and the sugar.

“I just want to—“ Grimmy came around, lifting his mother up so she could reach better (wasn’t there a stool around, Alexander wondered) “—you got it? Okay, I just want to keep some on me in case any of the girls need one.”

Marie gave him a smile, retrieving her stainless steel measuring cups, “oh I don’t know honey. Can’t they just ask another girl or go to the nurse?”

It wasn’t that she was against the idea, but Grimmy was eccentric enough. What if he were bullied for this?

Grimmy sighed, running a hand through his loose curls as her dropped himself onto one of the counter stools and reached into the pile of carrots Alexander had cut, sending half of them spilling across the countertop and earning an acidic scowl from his brother.

“Can you not.”

Grimmy ignored this, if he even noticed, popping a tiny carrot slice into his mouth.

“Yeah well, fifteen year old girls are really mean to each other. And going to the nurse is embarrassing.”

Marie nodded, measuring out her flour for the cake she planned to make for dessert.

“And girls say I’m really easy to talk to so I think maybe they wouldn’t have a hard time coming to me for help. I also packed stuff for cramps annnnnd found the leftover Halloween candy.”

“Pencils.”

Both Marie and Grimmy looked to Alexander, curly heads tilted in unison, waiting for him to elaborate.

With an annoyed sigh, Alexander slid the remainder of the potatoes into the pot and began to clean his area, awaiting the next task his mother would delegate to him.

“I mean you’re preparing all this stuff to help out the girls but you’re still the kid who doesn’t remember to bring a pencil to class.”

He wanted to call him an idiot, a sensitive fool, but he couldn’t. The entire Valentine family was made of sensitivity so Alexander would only be displaying hypocrisy to sling such insults at his brother. The difference between them was that Grimmy expressed like their mother while Alexander, like his father, displayed it rarely and only to those worthy of being let in.

He knew he shouldn’t have been so hard on his brother, especially considering he was still only fifteen and had a lot of to learn, but he couldn’t help it.

Grimmy was annoying.

But Grimmy was still his brother and he was still just a kid. And he meant well. Alexander didn’t even speak to girls at fifteen, never mind helping them with their….

….their periods.

So he softened his voice a bit.

“I’m just saying, take care of yourself too.”

#Grimmy was the hero I needed in HS #dirge-of-valentinex4 #Grimmy Valentine #Alexander Valentine #Teacher AU

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themalicealyce · 6 years ago

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Sarcasm and Puns: Chapter Nine

Summary: You're an introverted person, have been all of your life but it wasn't as if you were shy, you were just content to have your only friends be your brother and your roommate. Though when your brother's young daughter makes friends with the human ambassador of monsters you open up to the idea of having a larger group of friends.

Rating: M

You very quickly began to regret your decision to take a taxi. The ride seemed to take an eternity, and you felt trapped, shackled into the backseat of the yellow metal prison. You found yourself gritting your teeth in annoyance, nearing the breaking point of shit you could put up with from the driver. It wasn’t just you, Vincent's entire focus was funneled into his phone. He was staring down at it so hard you worried it would burst into flame due to sheer determination to ignore the man.

“All I’m saying is, I think everyone would be more comfortable if they just kept to themselves." The taxi driver added to the lengthy rant he was on about monsters. Chuckling as if it was pleasant conversation he spoke again mimicking secret sharing. “Personally, I think they should just go back to that hole honestly, Right?” Even though the both of you ignored him, he didn’t stop. It was disgusting, you didn't even know there were that many racist slurs people had come up with for the peaceful race. “I mean seriously!” He chuckled jovially.

You checked the map on your phone again, praying to whichever deity in the sky that wanted to listen that you got there soon. You could feel your anger rising, calming yourself with the thought that it would really suck to go to jail on an empty stomach. Thankfully, whatever cruel force that was currently screwing with you must have grown bored because you saw you were approaching the restaurant. “Just drop us off on the corner here.” You directed trying to keep your voice even. Vincent let out a long breath beside you, some tension easing off his features. You however were still stressed and upset that you had to stay in the man's presence for even another second.

The driver had the nerve to scoff as you pulled in front of the quite honestly beautiful, rustic looking diner. "See, places like this, these monster-run businesses are bringing down this whole neighborhood." he sighed shaking his head sadly to himself only causing you to grimace further. "Careful as you pass by ma'am who knows what those things get up to."

Vincent reached out to you as if in a silent attempt to quell your rising rage. It didn't help, and he couldn't blame you, he did however scurry quickly out of the car without a word.

“Actually, this is my stop.” You forced yourself to smile as you tensely handed him his fair. “It looks like a great place for lunch.” You said in an eerily calm rage flinging the door open so harshly it bounced on its hinges back to you.

"You’re not really going in there are you?" his face morphed from utter confusion to contempt as he snarled, "That ain’t no place for a nice young lady." You stepped outside the car but leaned back in to get the final word "Maybe I’m not a," You rolled your eyes and said the next bit with air quotes. “’nice young lady’ but at least I am a good person.” With that you slammed the car door, something petty you couldn’t help but indulge in.

The taxi peeled away from the curb, and you allowed yourself another petty indulgence, flipping it off as it sped away. As soon as the yellow blob disappeared out of sight you sagged and exhaled wearily. You noticed a few people and monsters watching your outburst curiously, causing you to shove your hands into you jacket pockets and look down at your feet.

Vincent returned to his place at your side but instead of looking at him you just lifted your head to watch the calming movement and flickering lights from inside the building’s large window that spanned nearly the entire length of the wall.

Vincent shifted awkwardly from foot to foot before releasing an exaggerated breath of air "So Grillby's huh? How hot do you think that grill be?" he laughed nervously at his own joke.

You gave him a half-hearted glare that quickly became a smile. "I'm pretty sure that's the owner's name." you let out a small laugh as you bumped his shoulder with yours.

Sensing the tension in the air quickly evaporating he smiled and continued, "I repeat, how hot you think that Grill Be?" You rolled your eyes but continued to smile. "Come on dork, I'm starving." You said, walking into the building with him following at your heels as he giggled to himself.

Upon entering the diner, the bell hanging over the door rang causing all sorts of different monsters to look up at you and Vincent for a long moment. Most regarded you with curious expressions, but some looked wary to see you. They soon all returned to their activities, a wide variety of monsters all so different from each other ate, drank, played cards, and chatted happily together. A small group of humans sat on their own in one small booth tucked away in a corner curiously trying to study the monsters without looking at them for too long. You noticed the smell, standing in place for a moment to take it in. The aroma clung thickly in the air was like a mixture of a wood burning stove, burgers, and something sweet you couldn't put a name to. It was mouth-watering, and your stomach growled violently at the scent. Belatedly you noticed the warmth of the place. Glancing around you figured that it was probably due to the large number of people inside with help from the candles on the tables. Hunger mostly in control now, you pulled Vincent past the more crowded central area crammed with tables and booths and moved instead towards the bar along the back wall that looked like it was straight out of a noire film.

As you took your seat at the bar and glanced around in search of a waiter or bartender you soon laid eyes on what was probably the biggest reason why this place was actually this toasty amidst the bitter autumn weather. You leaned over to tell Vincent, but his eyes were already locked on the heat source.

"Oh. That hot." Vincent whispered breathlessly.

Fire. It took you a moment to quell your panic. The place was not on fire. The fire was man shaped. A thin, stately man who appeared to be entirely made of fire. The flames around him crackled and danced in an entrancing way that reminded you of watching the fireplace during winters as a kid. He kind of seemed overdressed for the venue. His neatly pressed black pants and matching vest looked out of place in a bar this casual and cozy, but it somehow fit the timeless vibe. He turned toward you a pair of black, neat rectangular framed glasses sat on his face making it clear where he should have eyes. When the man made of fire saw you he nodded in acknowledgment. It completely fascinated you the way he didn't have any clear facial features, yet you still got the gist of his expression.

“Oh, of course Vinny. You fucking pyro.” You rolled your eyes, but you agreed the man was very intriguing, and also kind of confusing. You once again had to silently remind yourself that magic was real even though it still felt very odd to think about, since you never used to believe in that sort of thing. Though, if a bartender literally made of fire didn't start to fully drive the fact permanently into your brain nothing else probably ever would.

As if drawn to you and Vincent’s intrigue the fire monster gracefully approached you dropping off a very short menu before flitting away again, giving you what you interpreted as an apologetic look as another monster motioned him over. Vincent pulled his leather jacket to himself and you knew he wasn’t cold, it was way too warm in here. It was a shy gesture, it was even easier to tell when he begun to curl up into himself. His social anxiety had to be hitting some pretty high levels.

You nudged him encouragingly, "C'mon dude, lighten up." you stage whispered to him in a playful manner.

You thought it was the overly crowded restaurant he was having an issue with, he didn’t really like talking to new people or large groups. Though you were hopeful he would have fun because he genuinely seemed more comfortable around monsters than other humans. He gave you that pleading stare, the one with those big round puppy eyes that only he could pull off that innocently. Once he was sure he had your attention his eyes quickly darted back to the fire elemental pointedly.

"Ooooh." The realization dawned on you suddenly and you saw the blush creep up his face. He couldn't speak up because he thought the bartender was cute. He gave you a weak nod in confirmation and you smiled comfortingly at him. "You can do it man. Go for it." you urged him on eagerly with a light punch to his arm. He shot you a glare, but there was no malice behind it. You returned it with a stern expression. Vincent groaned and swiveled back to face the bar in his stool. The man made of fire returned appearing very patient, though you seriously weren't sure if he was making these expressions or if you were imagining them since his few facial features seemed as though they would be impossible to read. You still felt as though you got the gist of what they meant.

Both you and the monster behind the bar patiently watched as Vincent took a moment gathering all of his courage, straightening himself out and sitting as tall as he could in his seat. Vincent offered the bartender a shy smile after clearing his throat.

"S-so uh... Has anyone ever told you that you look really hot?" Vincent finished, smiling a little brighter clearly a bit proud of his pickup line. You groaned barely resisting the urge to hide your face in your hands, embarrassed that he actually used that dumb pun to the barman’s face. You braced yourself for the awkward silence, but it never came. Instead you heard a deep chuckle rumble behind you.

"yeah, i'm pretty sure i have."

You jumped, startled at the sudden interruption, but Vincent nearly fell off his seat. His face was entirely red, and his eyes went wide in shock. You turned to face the speaker to find a short skeleton watching the two of you with an amused smile. He was about the same height as Vincent, he stood with his stands shoved into his baggie blue hoodie, standing in a pose that exuded casual ease. You quickly turned back to Vincent to see your friend’s face had grown so dark with his blushing it was kind of worrying. He let his head drop down on the counter with a dull thud and a defeated whimper.

The bartender’s breathy laughter drew the attention of everyone within earshot. It sounded like crackling logs in a bonfire, and made the air feel warmer. Vincent’s head immediately darted up, the embarrassment in his eyes replaced with awe. If he was a cartoon character, there would have been gleaming stars in his eyes. “Now, now Sans. Play nice with the new customers, unlike you they don’t have tabs yet.” It was the first words you heard the monster actually speak and you watched in amazement as his face cracked open becoming a mouth. The only word you could think of to describe his voice was… smokey.

“aww, c’mon grillbz. you know i ain’t gotta bone to pick with nobody.” The skeleton who must have been Sans shrugged, posture slacking even further as he did, slipping away to pull himself up onto a nearby barstool.

Wait, Sans? Why was that name familiar to you? Had you heard it recently? You were pretty sure that you had.

Then it clicked. You instantly felt stupid, a skeleton named Sans.

“Wait! Sans?” You asked aloud while frowning at the furnace like heat in Grillby’s, shucking off your jacket mid thought. “Are you Papyrus’s brother?” Turning away from your friend instead facing the ever smiling skeleton, you questioned the new monster at the bar.

He chuckled, it was a lazy but really pleasing sound. He turned to face you “who’s askin’?” His retort cut short as he made a strange choking noise.

Your eyebrows scrunched up in immediate confusion. You followed his line of sight from the bright white pinpricks of light that seemed to serve as pupils. They lead down to your now visible tee shirt. You weren’t even sure what you were wearing, having grabbed it in a rush this morning. When you caught a look at the design you couldn’t help but laugh, mostly out of nervous habit, as your cheeks glowed with a heated blush.

Standing out starkly from the black fabric was the design two white, skeletal arms wrapped around the shirt with their hands placed over your breast.

The atmosphere of bar was warm and inviting with the soft lights flickering dimly like candles, casting slowly swaying shadows across the dark wood paneling of the walls. All around, the ambient chatter and laughter reverberated happily through the large cluttered building and filled the space with life. Despite all the joyous noise and the general uplifting mood, you and the skeleton sitting beside you had fallen into a slightly uneasy staring contest after your nervous laughter petered out. Drawing your bottom lip between your teeth you couldn’t be sure how much time had passed since took your jacket off making the interaction tense. You definitely didn’t know what to say in this situation, you’ve honestly never encountered one like it before, so you just let the awkwardness hang thickly between you. Unable to stop staring at him you thought you saw his cheekbones turn a faint blue color, but it was gone so quickly you weren’t sure if it was some kind of trick of the light. He was first the break the silence causing you to let out the breath you didn’t realize you were even holding.

“gotta hand it to ya kid, that’s a pretty cool shirt.” His smile stretcher into an amused smirk as he gestured nonchalantly at the design.

“I didn’t even realize I was wearing it I am so so- Was that pun?” you asked in disbelief, your minding reeling at his reaction. Glaring when he began to laugh.

“nottin’ gets past you huh?” Sans shrugged settling into a far more relax position.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. So, you closed it again with a slight frown, staring at him while you tried to process. Was he making fun of you? Did he think you were dumb? Luckily you were saved the mental energy of overthinking it when an urgent nudge from Vincent.

“Dude, I’m starving.” He whined pushing the menu into your open hands, willing you to order quickly before Grillby moved on to another costumer again. You briefly scanned the, admittedly limited, menu. You wondered to silently over some of the stranger items that caught your eye, but you knew as soon as you saw a description that made your stomach growl embarrassingly what you wanted.

“The burger for me.” You smiled up at Grillby handing your menu back over to the bartender before glancing back to your friend who was nodding in passionate agreement. You waited a beat to see if he’d speak up, but he seemed unable to do anything more than watch Grillby in lovesick awe. So, you spoke up for him, “Make that two.” Taking Vincent menu, you offered it to Grillby as well.

Grillby nodded taking both menus from you and wandered off into a backroom that must of housed the kitchen.

Vincent stared after him as he left, and you rolled your eyes. “Can I take you anywhere without you crushing on some guy?”

He sputtered turning back to lightly slap your arm, his face turning red again. “I do not crush on guys everywhere! And I mean…” he paused his furious blush darkening. “HE”S MADE OUT OF FIRE WHAT AM I SUPPOSE TO DO?”

You laughed at his flustered speech. “Of course, you fucking pyro.”

He crossed his arms in a huff “First of all, I am not a pyro… fire is just aestheti-“ he sighed cutting off his usual response. “secondly it’s not just, just that…” he muttered defensively pulling his jacket closer to himself once more as if trying to sink in it to get away from the conversation.

Taking pity, you relented from picking on your friend and instead you could resist the urge to curiously glance around the bar. You deeply regret not having your camera on you. When you caught sight of the skeleton sitting next you it caused you to groan, instantly mentally berating yourself for your pervious fuck up. You tried to come up with something to say to end the silence without sounding like an idiot or a jerk. He was your new friend’s brother, so you didn’t really want him to hate you. It was admittedly more for Papyrus’s sake than your own, you didn’t really mind people not liking you, though for some reason this felt different.

Your eyes grew wide at the thought of Papyrus, you suddenly remembered this is the shirt you put on when he was over earlier. You were instantly glad for jackets, sending a silent thank you for their invention.

“Papyrus didn’t see this shirt.” You blurted out in a matter of fact manner, not really to anyone in particular more just comforting yourself in that fact. Instantly you knew that sounded ridiculous, your stare boring into the bottles lining the back of the bar as if they had suddenly become fascinating. You could only hope it didn’t come out of your mouth as loud as you thought it did. Though, you were pretty sure he heard you because he choked on his drink, one of his skeletal hands shoot up to cover his mouth but doing little to help the amber liquid from spraying out and dribbling down his chin.

“m’sorry, what?” he asked voice rough as he tried to clear his throat, coughing slightly. His attention was now locked on you again.

“I uh, just realized I was wearing this shirt when I saw him earlier… and that just… feels weird.” You mumbled picking at the hem of your shirt, eyes darting from the bar to him over and over finding it hard to keep contact with those bright lights in his socket trained on you.

“so, you’re the new human tori was talkin’ about heh.” His head tilted a bit to the side and his eyes never wavering. He watched you as if he was searching your face for something.

“Um? Maybe, I guess?” you tried to smile but it was weak. “I’m kinda making a bad first impression, right?” you grimaced, remembering how dumb you came off to Toriel as well.

“God, which one of us is worse at meeting new people?” Vincent chuckled having been eagerly eavesdropping.

You left out a startled laugh a Vincent’s interjection, but before you could reply Grillby had come back from the kitchen with a plate in either hand. The smell alone made your mouth water as he placed them in front of you, and Vincent couldn’t help but stare at his burger lovingly at the big, juicy burger. Vincent even ley out a slightly pornographic moan next to you as took a large bite and nodded enthusiastically.

Eager to dig into your own you scanned the bar in search of ketchup. You pouted upon not finding any and you considered flagging Grillby back down to ask for some when something firm was tapped against you’re the back of your hand. Looking up you saw Sans, he had apparently figured out your dilemma and was leaning over to you, arm outstretched. He was holding out a glass bottle to you tapping it against your hand to get your attention.

You looked at him, not sure of what to say. He just shrugged at your silence and set the ketchup next to you.

“no need to bottle things up, you should speak up. plus, it looks like you need’a ketchup with your friend.” He nodded at Vincent who had already eaten half his burger with zeal.

You repressed an eye roll at his puns and nodded in thanks. Taking the bottle from the counter you moved the top bun aside and tilted the ketchup over the burger only to have the top fall off and a river of red spill from it messily coating your plate.

You could hear San’s laughing off to your side. You frowned at your plate, had he sabotaged you?

“sorry‘ll get a you a new…” He started, confirming your suspicions, but you shrugged to yourself and picked the top off your food and replacing the bun.

You took a big bite, you usually drowned your food in ketchup anyway.

Vincent grimaced looking up from his own plate. “Ugh, I don’t know how you can eat that. It’s disgusting.”

“Don’t you judge my burger.” You answered back. “You can’t throw stones, you put salt in your chocolate milk.”

Vincent slammed his burger down on the plate looking very offended at you comment. “A little bit of salt enhances the flavor of chocolate!”

You laughed and shook your head at his outburst. “It’s so wrong though.”

Sans chuckled, again catching your attention, and once he noticed he had it again his smile grew wider. “my condiments to the fellow ketchup lover.” He winked and brought the now half empty bottle to teeth and tipped his head back to down the rest of it’s contents like it was nothing.

You smirked at him amused, the food warm in you stomach making you more comfortable. His face fell for only a second to express disappointment at your lack of response. Probably hoping his drink of choice would make you squeamish.

“Well, I guess we have something in common, that’s a good start. I’m sure we’ll find out more thing we agree on.” You said.

He shrugged, the blue hood of his jacket bunching up around his skull. “if you’re plannin’ on stayin’round that long maybe.” His smiled dopily.

You were going to ask what he meant by that, but your phone rang out its whirring Dr. Who tone alerting you that your brother was calling. Your eyebrows furrowed together, not expecting his call. “Sorry I have to take this.” You apologized to Sans while fishing your phone out of your pocket.

“Hey Gabe, what’s up?” you answered your phone with a smile, covering your other ear in hopes it would make you hear better in the loud bar.

“Morrigan is asking about her mom again.” Came his voice, it sounded quieter and sadder then you had heard his voice in a long time.

The smile quickly slid from your face. “I’m on my way.”

He mumbled out some kind of goodbye response before hanging up.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go. Nice to meet you.” You said this time to the people on either side of you.

“What’s wrong?” Vincent half whispered in worry.

Pulling out the money for your meal, passing it to Vincent. “Gabriel needs me.” You said as you did, hoping he wouldn’t press further. You were doing all you could to keep yourself looking calm and polite.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk with you?” He asked hesitantly.

You answered with a look.

He sighed as he backed down. “Alrighty then, see you later.”

“Later.” You agreed. You hated the way your voice sounded so cold and stern. You leapt down from your barstool sparing Vincent and Sans one last strained smile as you pulled your jacket back on. You fled without another thought.

#undertale #undertale fanfiction #sans #sansxreader #sans x reader #sans/reader #slow burn #fluff and angst #chapter nine

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blank-writing-space · 7 years ago

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the mural promposal | woozi - seventeen

➳ 3rd person pov

“7:34 am.” that’s what the clock read as he stretched. he was sk kupposed to get out of bed 4 minutes ago, but he wanted a few more minutes. he sits up and rubs his hair in a sleepy way.

he gets out of bed and walks over to the bathroom, fixing his hair and brushing his teeth. he walks to his closet soon after to get the uniform for school. he sighed as he thought about how he was going to ask out y/n to be his prom date. they were best friends, but he’d liked her for a while.

then, a big, bright light bulb formed over his head. he instantly started getting ready, as fast he could. he had to be fast if he could ask the deans and principals if he could ask her the way he wanted to.

once he was done getting ready, he put his paint brushes and paints into his bookbag. he had the perfect way to ask her to prom, and he was ready to make his idea come true.

jihoon ran downstairs with his bookbag and asked his mom to call the school. “for what?”, his mom asked. “mom, i have an idea to ask y/n to prom, but first, i need the school’s permission.” he explained to her the plan and his mom agreed.

she called the school and asked for permission as jihoon sat on the stool in front of the kitchen counter, tapping his foot on a bar of the stool in anxiousness. his mom hung up the phone, “well, what’d they say??” he asked. “they said….”, she began, then paused for a dramatic effect, “THEY SAID YOU CAN DO IT!” they screamed and jumped in excitement, until jihoon stopped. “i’m going to need help.”

jihoon ran to the bus, he was almost late. when he got on the bus, he took out his phone immediately and texted his friends; jeonghan, joshua, hoshi, jun, dino, s. coups, minghao, seungkwan, seokmin, mingyu, wonwoo, and vernon. he needed all of them to help him if it needed to be done fast.

they all agreed to help jihoon, asking each other where to meet. the bus jihoon was on finally arrived at the school, him running off of the bus first and running to meet the other 12 in front of the school’s front gate.

jihoon ran up to them and greeted them. “so, what’s the plan?” he explained everything to them, all the details, y/n’s schedule, the class times, everything. he wanted to keep her away from that part of the hallway where he’d be working on. he wanted it to be a surprise.

they ran inside and instantly got to work, the school’s principal excused them since jihoon needed help and he was doing something sweet.

➳ Y/N’s pov

i walked into school, only to be stopped by minghao and joshua. “you can’t go in there.” “w-why not? is something wrong”, i ask. “n-NO! nothing’s wrong!! that hallway is just…under construction. the school staff told us to tell everyone the news. it’s dangerous and pretty bad, i think you should go a different way.”

i pursed my lips. “hmm..okay. i guess it is pretty dangerous, thanks for the heads up.” i turn around and enter the school through the side entrance.

— TIME SKIP —

they’ve been stopping me from going to that hallway all day? i thought it was supposed to be fixed already..hm. oh well. i was walking to my 7th period class when coups found me. “oh hey, y/n! i heard that the hallway is going to be fixed by the end of the day, so we can leave the school from there. it’s safe now.” i nodded, “okay, thank you!”

my 7th period class ended and i was on my way to 8th. 8th was my favorite class, it was one of the only classes i had with jihoon..but where is jihoon? he’s not here? i pulled out my phone and decided to text one of jihoon’s friends. i decided to text dino, typing “hey. do you know where jihoon is?” soon afterwards my phone vibrated, “he’s sick today. sorry, forgot to tell you earlier.”

i nodded, then mentally facepalmed myself knowing he couldnt see it. the bell to dismiss and go home snapped me out of my thoughts. i was happy to leave school, it was so boring without my crus- i mean best friend! best friend jihoon, it was so boring without my best friend jihoon. i wanted to make some soup for him and give him some medicine.

➳ 3rd person pov

y/n walked out of her 8th period class and was trying to leave the school as fast as possible. but sadly, that was impossible, because there were so many people. y/n wondered why so many people were holding cameras? she was on her way to the hallway that everyone told her was under construction.

it wasn’t too long before she realized people were recording HER. she looked confused, but kinda brushed it off. she didn’t understand why people were recording her and she thought she’d never understand.

she entered the hallway and saw one of the walls covered with a huge white sheet. she tilted her head in confusion, like a little puppy. she was even more confused when she saw joshua and minghao walk out and pull the strings attached to the sheet, making the sheet fall.

she instantly lost her breath. she saw something so…so beautiful, so sweet. she was speechless and wasn’t sure of how to react. y/n thought she was dreaming when she saw jihoon walk out with huge poster boards, cursive handwriting was displayed on all of them.

before she read the poster boards jihoon held, she took another look at the mural he had painted. it was a picture of her side profile of her face, placed comfortably in the spot it was. the background was vincent van gogh’s “starry night” painting. she was shocked when she realized that jihoon painted that. jihoon painted the starry night mural AND the side profile of her face.

“okay, this cannot get any better”, she mumbled to herself. HA she thought, it definitely can get better. she finally looked down to start reading aloud the beautiful cursive writing on the poster boards jihoon held.

“dear y/n, i hope you like the mural i painted. i worked hard on it just for you. i’m not good with words, but i’ll try to say these words the best i can.”

jihoon grabs the poster board in front and places it behind the rest of them. y/n began reading again,

“y/n, my night was always dark before i met you. then, you came into my life and put the stars into my sky.”

he replaces it once again,

“i put your image onto the mural because you, yourself, is a masterpiece. your personality, appearance, the way you act, and just…just the way you are in general. you have many flaws, and i am here to appreciate every single one of them when you don’t. you are art. one day, if you give me a chance, i’ll take you to an art museum and show you amateur pieces of art.”

y/n giggles, looks down shyly, and wipes a tear. jihoon sees her smile and an even bigger smile appears on his face as he replaces the poster board once again.

“i’ve liked you for a while and i thought you’d never feel the same. i finally managed to get enough courage to do this in front of everyone.” he takes in a deep breath and switches it to the last poster.

“y/n, will you vincent van gogh to prom with me?”, he says out loud as if reading the big board he’s holding. y/n covers her face as she tries to process what’s happening. she looks around and sees everyone nodding or putting a thumbs up as a sign to say yes. after deciding, y/n nods and smiles. “i will most da vinci-netly go with you to prom.”

jihoon drops the poster board and runs up to y/n, immediately hugging her. tears still run down her face, she never expected to be asked like that. jihoon notices when he feels a drop of water on his shirt. he instantly pulls back a little, his arms still wrapped around her waist.

“hey, hey, what are you crying for? i’m so bad that you don’t wanna go to prom with me?” y/n giggles and jihoon softens a little, smiling a bit at the sight of her. he puts his thumb up to her cheek and wiped the tear that fell.

“no, i just never expected someone to ask me like this. why did you go above and beyond to ask me? you know i’m okay with things being simpl-” “yeah, but you don’t DESERVE simple. you deserve the whole world, so i’m giving you mine. i really hope you like the mural. i know you like art, and your favorite artist is vincent van gogh and your favorite piece BY him is starry night, and i also know you really enjoy puns so i tried to put it all in one.” they both laugh as he pulls her closer to his chest.

“oh, aND WHOEVER HAS THE VIDEO, CAN YOU SEND IT TO ME PLEASE”, y/n screams, so she can save the videos and always look back on this day to remember it. jihoon just looks at her with his judging face and y/n turns her head to face jihoon again, and does that cheeky eye smile people make when you bug someone but they lowkey don’t care because they love you. and that’s what the situation was; she was goofy and dorky, yet he loved her even more for it.

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imagineclaireandjamie · 8 years ago

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I would love to read something where Jamie walks into a bar or cafe and Claire is up on stage singing something. They have never met and he is instantly transfixed by her. He wants to meet her but she has been burned before and he has to work hard to show her he is serious.

The damn phone was ringing again. Shrill in his ears withthe sound of what could only be bad news.

But he couldn’t afford an answering machine, and was justabout broke. So he reached over the side of the bed, fumbling in the dark forthe receiver, spilling a pile of records to the floor.

“Hello?” he croaked, voice raspy with sleep andcigarettes.

“Oh good, you’re awake. What are you up to tonight?”

He rubbed his face with his free hand. “It’s six AM, Ian. Whatthe hell?”

“I’m still out with Murtagh – he said he’s got a lead ona singer looking for a band. You in?”

*That* woke him up. Ian – his best friend and the finestdamn drummer on the face of the earth – and Jamie had parted ways with theirmost recent band two months before. Creative differences, or whatever. They hadpicked up random session work here and there, but nothing steady since then.And it was damn hard to survive – even in Alphabet City where you crawled overjunkies sprawled out on the sidewalk and dodged homeless ‘Nam vets panhandlingon every corner just to get to the front door every night – when they bothcould only bring home a few dollars a week.

“Who’s the singer? Do you know him?”

The long blare of a siren wailed through the receiver.

“Are you on the street, Ian? Do I need to meet yousomewhere?”

“No, it’s OK!” he shouted into the mouthpiece. “We canaudition tomorrow. But the singer will be performing at Murtagh’s club tonight –9:30. I promised Jenny I’d go with her to see that new Evita musical in thetheater district – she said the orchestra may need a backup backup drummer…”

“OK, OK. I’ll do it. 9:30? Are you even coming backtoday?” Jamie slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. Frowning at theplastic bag caught in the tree branch right outside his window.

“One more place with Murtagh, then straight to Jenny’s. I’llsay you send your love! And I’ll tell Murtagh we’re in. Gotta go!”

A click – then the dialtone.

Jamie carefully set down the receiver and then reached downfor the neck of his guitar. He hoisted it to his knees, idly strumming.Thinking.

—

9:45 PM found Jamie Fraser half-way through his pack ofcigarettes, sliding down the slippery vinyl bench that lined the walls ofMurtagh FitzGibbon’s half-cabaret, half-comedy club where a few careers hadbeen launched – and where many bright dreams had faded.

But Murtagh had taken a chance on Jamie and Ian, hookingthem up with the MacKenzie brothers the previous year. It was a good gig whileit lasted, but Rupert had let the bit of fame they’d garnered (if touring smalltheaters in Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire college towns couldbe considered “fame”) go to his head. He and his twin brother Angus – singer andbassist, respectively – hadn’t let Jamie contribute any of his own songs to thesetlist. They wanted to go bigger, while Jamie and Ian wanted to get smarter.

So here he was, back in Murtagh’s club. At least he wasn’tpaying him to find a new gig – not like he could have given him any money,anyway.

If things got really bad, he and Ian could always move inwith Jenny – Jamie’s sister, and Ian’s fiancée. She had what their parentsconsidered to be a “respectable” job, working as a bookkeeper at St. Vincent’sHospital. She could always help him find work there, if push came to shove –and it would be a steady income, to be sure.

But Jamie knew he wasn’t cut out for that kind of work. Hewas creative – had always doodled drawings or written ditties on the piano andguitar from a young age. Mom and Dad didn’t quite understand it, but theysupported it.

And this new singer – this potential ticket to a newchapter in his life – was late.

All Murtagh had said in the fifteen seconds they’d had tochat was that the singer would be on after the one-handed French juggler, ofall things. And Claudel had just bowed to finish his act.

Jamie sipped the whisky he’d been nursing all night,tapping the heel of his boots impatiently. Watching the small woman with a riotof curly hair set up a stool behind the microphone at center stage. She had tobe new – one of the many helpers who dreamed of the spotlight.

But then to his astonishment, she turned around, smiledconfidently at the crowd, and climbed onto the stool.

The houselights dimmed, and the spotlight illuminated hergorgeous, creamy skin. She wore a short black dress, black stockings, and blackheels.

And a dazzling smile.

“I’m Claire Beauchamp. And tonight I’ll be singing someof my favorites from Sondheim, Rodgers and Hammerstein, and Cole Porter.”

Show tunes? He had dragged his ass all the way to theUpper East Side for a woman who sang show tunes? What kind of joke was Murtaghplaying on him?

Then Claire Beauchamp nodded at Ned Gowan – perched, ashe had been for over twenty years, behind the piano at stage left.

And she began to sing.

And Jamie Fraser was mesmerized.

—

That voice. That *voice.* Beautiful and rich and pure.Expressive – evocative – honest. Joyous and sorrowful and a thousand emotionsin between.

It spoke to him. Burrowed deep inside his ribs. Burstforth in a racing heart.

His fingers unconsciously curled to hold the invisiblefrets and strings of his acoustic guitar – itching to write.

Who was she? Why was she here?

And why did she want a guitarist?

He’d played some jazz music in high school, and couldpluck out any tune on the piano – but he knew almost next to nothing about themusic with which she was clearly so familiar.

But for that voice – he’d try anything.

—

Her set was exactly twenty minutes. As soon as she’dbowed to the tepid applause in the room and made her way backstage, Jamie foundhis feet following her. He’d played this club often enough to know the quickestway to large room where all the acts got ready. He dodged a man wearing anenormous sombrero, followed by a woman in a gorgeous, colorful dress clutchingtwo maracas, and turned the corner to the prep room.

A long mirror hung on one side, and an equally long lineof director’s chairs packed with men and women adjusting their hair and makeuphuddled to one side. Coats and boots and props piled randomly on the other sideof the room – and there she was, alone, winding a long scarf around her neck.

“Excuse me? Miss Beauchamp?”

She looked up, startled, and somehow he stood right infront of her. God, she had to be a foot shorter than him. She wore barely anymakeup – so different and refreshing from the typical woman who performed here.And bravely met his eyes. Waiting.

“I’m Jamie Fraser.”

Realization dawned. “The guitar player? Murtagh didn’tlet me know you’d be here tonight.”

“I like doing my research. I didn’t last time, and itcame back to bite me in the ass.”

She broke his gaze to shrug into her blue peacoat. “Wellthen. And what did your research find tonight?”

“Why do you want a guitar player?” he blurted. “Ian – my drummer– and I, we don’t do show tunes. Or jazz, or lounge music, or whatever elseseems to be in your repertoire.”

“Well that’s good, then.” She buttoned up her coat andshoved her hands in her pockets, chin tilted up a bit. Defiant. “Because I don’twant to do this kind of music anymore.”

Jamie waited, brows raised.

“Well, what *do* you want?”

“I want to be a rock and roll singer. And I want you tohelp me.”

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it – but thankfullydidn’t.

“A rock singer? No offense, but have you ever sang thatkind of music before?”

“Are you telling me I can’t do it?” She straightened up abit, eyes narrowed. “Because I’ve heard that one before. And I’ve ignored everysingle person who told me I couldn’t. It got me here to New York, it got mehere to The Broch tonight. And it got you to come backstage to find me.”

He flushed, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m not – I’m sorry ifyou took it that way. Only – you have such a beautiful voice. It’s justsurprising, is all. Rock isn’t beautiful – it’s tough. Raw. And it isn’t alwayssunshine and rainbows.”

“Well, I’m tough,” she countered, voice steely and fierce.”I’ve been through a lot more than you think. And believe me, I know that happyendings only happen in the musicals.”

She looked away for a moment – but not from shyness.Clearly gathering her thoughts.

He wanted to reach out and caress her face – right there,where her cheek met her jaw.

Then clenched his hand into a fist. What the hell was shedoing to him?

“But it’s what I want,” she continued. “I’ve sacrificedso much for this. Murtagh says you’re the best guitarist and songwriter he’sfound in a long time. And I need a musical partner – like Page to Plant, orKeith to Mick. I need someone I can work with, and rely on, and who can push meto be the singer I’ve always wanted to be.”

She pressed her lips, suddenly shy.

“Are you willing to do that?”

Jamie’s whole world tilted.

“Yes.” His voice was clear, strong, confident. It was theeasiest decision he’d ever made.

Then she smiled at him, and he forgot all the otherpeople in the crowded room.

“Good. I’ve got a rehearsal space down on the Bowery –can you be there at ten in the morning?” She pulled a card and pen from herpurse and scribbled the address. He must have nodded because the next thing heknew she had wished him goodbye and slid past him – and he cradled the card inthe palm of his hand, realizing he had no idea what the hell he was doing.

Stephen Sondheim, “Send In The Clowns”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oI_nLz-rciA

Rodgers & Hammerstein, “You’ll Never Walk Alone”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9DBTLN73TXE

Cole Porter, “De Lovely”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txBnEh-SpGg

#;mod gotham #we live for love au

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maverick-gone-home · 8 years ago

Text

Six Crows-Chapter One, Part Five

Two dudes, one bed, and a crap ton of monsters that aren’t that bad.

Warnings:

Swearing

No Cannon Characters (All I did was use the show as a basis and wrote the story in the show’s universe, but it doesn’t really touch the show’s characters at all. Crowley was there for a few lines though.)

Cannon Typical Violence

Start here to read it on Tumblr

Start here to read it on Archive of Our Own

The door swung open into the kitchen, a loud bang sounding as it hit the wall and bounced slightly. Vincent stood in a defensive position, the angel-blade readied at his side and his brows drawn together.

Crowley stood next to the kitchen island, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his long coat. Eli was nearby, sitting in a stool with his arms crossed. On the island lay a dead dog. They looked to Vincent, both of their words falling short.

"Call your dog off, feathers?" Crowley's accent broke the silence. Eli laughed softly, hanging his head and shaking it slightly. Vincent's face flushed in embarrassment as he stood up straight.

"Sorry, Mr. Crowley," Vincent began as we walked back into the bathroom to place the angel-blade back under the sink, "I didn't expect there to be a demon in the apartment."

"Took you long enough to notice," Elijah commented from his seat at the spinning stool. He hadn't changed positions, his arms still crossed over his chest and one foot resting on the step of the stool.

"So," Vincent entered the kitchen again, shaking his hair of excess moisture to some extent, "You do know we eat of that counter, right?" He motioned to the dead dog on the kitchen island. It was large, with dark matted fur and menacing teeth that undoubtedly could have torn a normal human to bits. He sniffed the air once, the scent of soap, the sweet scent of Elijah, the sour scent of Crowley, and a hint of rabies coming from the dead animal. "Didn't think Crowley could get a dead rabid dog this quick."

"I deliver, but if we could get back to the agreements, Elijah," Crowley, turned on his heel to look at Eli again.

"Right. I'll call Nicolson up and tell him I've got the dog, you drop it off, and it's one less favor you owe me." Elijah stood, pulling his phone from his trouser pocket. "I'll go make the call. You two play nice." Elijah began to tap on the screen and stepped into the bedroom for privacy.

"So, Crowley," Vincent began cheekily, "how's Hell?"

"It's fine, mutt." Crowley had never been a 'fan' of Vincent. They always had a passive aggressive banter that went on between the two. Pin-pointing the exact reason they didn't like each other was troublesome, but the closest thing Elijah could find as a reason was that Crowley didn't like Skinwalkers (something about them being too shifty and that they made it hard for him to do anything in secrecy in the borough) and Vincent wasn't fond of Demons, which was understandable.

"What about those hunters you're so fond of?" Crowley looked at Vincent out of the corner of his eye, glaring at him. Vincent smirked. "Skinwalker," he said referencing to himself, "I hear stuff."

"Stick your nose where it doesn't belong and it'll get cut off."

Vincent sighed, walking towards the cabinets and pulling a bottle of scotch and two glasses out. "Drink?"

"I won't be staying long." Crowley wasn't hoping to stay long. He would never admit it, but Eli scared him. Crowley knew what Eli was capable of, and that if Eli wanted to, he could play the world into anyone's hand. He knew he only busied himself with Manhattan because he was bored with planning and winning wars for others.

"We've got your favorite," Vincent tempted, holding the bottle so that Crowley could read it. It was Craig, aged thirty years. Crowley eyed Vincent and the bottle skeptically. His eyes squinted and his lips parted to form the expression he made when weighing options.

"Sure..." Vincent set the glasses down and poured some scotch into each glass. He closed the bottle and carried a glass to Crowley, offering it to him. Crowley accepted the glass, and Vincent took a sip of his drink. Crowley followed, Elijah entering the room again after finishing his phone call.

Once the drink touched Crowely's lips, it immediately burned him. He dropped the glass. It shattered loud against the hard tile floor.

"You put holy water in my drink!" Crowley exclaimed, his voice rising ever so slightly in pitch.

"That's," Vincent poked a finger into Crowley's chest, "for giving me a silver rimmed glass." Crowley narrowed his eyes at Vincent. "Your move, hell-bound."

Elijah coughed, announcing his presence. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Nothing at all," Crowley answered with a fake smile and a small nod. "Just dropped my glass on accident. So, can I send the body to get dropped off?"

"Yeah, Nicolson says he'll be out back with someone to help carry it in." Elijah put his phone back into his pocket. "If there are any complications, just contact me." Crowley disappeared a few short seconds later, along with the body of the dead dog. Elijah walked towards Vincent, eyeing the broken glass on the floor before looking towards Vincent with a raised brow. "Are you winning?"

"I don't, uh, know what you're talking about," Vincent played dumb.

"The little prank-war between you and Crowley. Don't act like I don't know." Elijah crossed his arms.

"Maybe? I'm not really sure." Elijah shook his head.

"Rookie," he muttered under his breath. "I'm going to let this ride and evaluate you once somebody wins. If Crowley comes to me and tells me to tell you to stop, you win, but if you give up, he wins."

"Are you going to help me?"

"Not at all." Elijah smiled devilishly. "Get this cleaned up and make sure you call Roy. Then you can do what you want since we'll be doing nothing till we get any word on unknown ghouls."

"Sure thing, boss," Eli eyed him strangely when he called him boss since he had never called him that before. Vincent shook his head, chuckling, before cleaning up the mess that had been caused by his prank on Crowley.

Elijah put away the bottle of scotch and pulled out a map, lying it over a portion of the island. He starred places with a pencil while Vincent cleaned. "Looking for possible hide-outs?" Vincent asked.

"Yup." He sighed. "There are a lot though, even if we narrow it down to the area around Orchard Street and the parking garage. We're just going to have to wait for a report."

Vincent nodded, making a noise of agreement as he finished his glass of scotch before cleaning and drying the glass. He looked to the clock in the kitchen. "I'm going to go to sleep. I was out late on the Orchard Street outing and the kennel wasn't ideal for sleeping." He yawned. "If you need anything, just wake me up." Elijah nodded, not looking up from the map, holding the pencil between his teeth.

Vincent left the kitchen and entered the bedroom. He turned on the bedside lamp before turning out the overhead light and cracking the door that lead to the kitchen so that light could still creep into the room. He stripped of his over shirt and pants, leaving him in his white under shirt and dark colored underwear. He pulled the soft, white comforter back and crawled into the queen sized bed before leaning over and turning out the bedside lamp.

He had been asleep for maybe an hour when the door creaked open.

"Vincent?" Elijah whispered into the calm air.

"Yeah?" His voice was raspy from sleep, though it wasn't extreme. He cleared his throat. "What is it?"

"You didn't call Roy." Vincent sat up, turning the lamp on.

"Shit, sorry Eli. I completely forgot." He glanced around the room. "Hey can I use your phone? Mine's at the compound."

"Yeah, sure," Eli said as he pulled his phone from his pocket and tossed it to Vincent. Vincent dialed Roy's number and waited as the dial tone sounded.

"Elijah?" Roy's voice sounded into Vincent's ear. Eli was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed as his head tilted ever so slightly to the left while he watched Vincent.

"It's actually Vincent," Vincent said into the phone, his voice still a tiny bit raspy, but enough that another alpha male could notice over the phone. Alpha male Skinwalker's voices usually deepened like that when they did... Things... (A/N: This is so weird why am I writing something like this. Know what? This is a far as we're going to say about that this part.)

"Vincent? Why are you using Elijah's phone?"

"I left my phone at the compound." A beat of silence aired between them. "Look, Roy, the reason I'm calling is to tell you life with the East Pack just hasn't been working. I'm moving in with Eli and I'll be coming to get my stuff tomorrow. It's not your fault; you did a great job helping me integrate, it just wasn't working out."

"Oh, it's fine. I wish we could have made it work."

"Thanks for understanding Roy."

"I'm happy for you both." Vincent's face twisted into an expression of pure confusion, his eyebrows knitting together and his lip pulling up ever so slightly.

"I don't think I understand, Roy."

"You and Elijah... You know, your voice was doing the thing, you're at his place and it's kind of late, whenever you would comeback to the compound we could always smell him on you..." Vincent's mouth hung open in disbelief. It wasn't bad that they thought him and Elijah were like that, but it was that Roy actually thought, Vincent and Eli... Did stuff like that.

"No, no, no, Roy. I'm not gay for Eli. Pack life just wasn't working out." Eli choked a bit as he heard the sentence.

"Oh, well, sorry about the misunderstanding... If you want I can get some people to help you move."

"It's fine, Roy. Eli and I can get it, he just thought I should let you know. "

"That's sweet of him. Well, you two have a good night. I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow."

"Yeah, goodnight Roy." Vincent sighed and hung the phone up. "Here's your phone back," he said tossing the phone to Eli.

"Do I want to know what he said?" Elijah's eyebrow was quirked as he still stood leaning against the door frame.

Vincent shook his head. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Right now, I just want to get some sleep."

"You want the door cracked?"

"You know me so well," Vincent whispered as he pulled the covers back over his shoulders, returning back to his quiet slumber.

well... this was a kind of weird part to write (at least from what i remember. I’m crossposting here, actually).

#supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #archive of our own #ao3

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