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wowweeharrystyles · 5 years ago

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Part 1 | Kindness & The Perfect Fit | 9.2k words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

A/N: So here’s part 1 of Sequins & Zippers. A MASSIVE shoutout to @niallhoranapologist. If it weren’t for Gwen I probably wouldn’t have continued to work on this story. Thanks for always helping me brainstorm ideas, listen to me talk about these fictional characters all the time & for continuously supporting my writing. you da best.

“Ugg, this is useless,” Aurora groans as she throws the t shirt she had in hand across the room. Aurora has been attempting to pack her suitcase for hours now. “How the hell am I supposed to pack 4 months worth of clothes in a single suitcase?” she whispers in defeat to herself.

“Rory? Everything alright?” Aurora’s mother calls from the other room. Rory is the nickname her mom gave her when she was only a baby. Her mother walks into her room and sees the frustrated look on her daughter’s face.

“25 countries? The weather is gonna be different in every freaking country,” Rory lets out a frustrated sigh, falling onto her bed. “I can barely pack properly for a weekend trip.”

“Hey, you’re thinking too hard and overwhelming yourself,” her mother says softly as she sits on the bed next to her. She places a hand on her shoulder, “Let me help. We’ll figure it out.”

Aurora is currently trying to pack for her new job. After the craziest year she’s ever had, packed with graduating college, moving to London to work with one of the most well-known stylists in the fashion industry and having the time of her life doing what she loves most, she was offered a career-altering job for the next 4 months. Never did Aurora think she would be sitting in her room back home in a small suburb of New York surrounded by cardboard boxes labeled with things like: “NYC Apartment - kitchen,” “London - winter clothes,” “School things,” “London Flat - bedding,” “I have no idea, from london.” Organized Chaos explained her life best right now.

“Rory, sweetie, where’s your list?” her mother asks, looking around to locate the papers she’s been carrying around for the past week that’s covered in scribbled notes, lists upon lists and small sketches here and there. “Should’ve really been keeping that stuff in a journal or something.” She finds the papers scattered on Aurora’s desk and a few laid on top of boxes. “Probably wouldn’t be so overwhelmed if you could be a little bit more organized,” her mother sighs gathering the papers into a stack, tapping the bottom edges on the desk to line them up. “You’re normally so much more organized,” her mother continues before pressing a kiss to Aurora’s hair.

“It’s a lot, Mom. I don’t know where to start.” She stands up from her bed and grabs her phone as it dings, indicating she’s received an email. “Finally!” she exclaims with a sigh of relief. “Harry’s just sent me my official itinerary and all of my flight info.”

“Harry Styles himself emailed you your travel plans?” her mother asks in disbelief.

“No, mom, Lambert. Harry Lambert, my boss.”

“Oh yeah, of course,” she laughs lightly, “How many mix ups has there been with that name?”

Aurora’s new job is ‘Head of Wardrobe’ for Harry Styles’ Arena World Tour. In all honesty, she has no idea how she got here. Well she does, but it still doesn’t feel real. Lambert’s original hire for the tour ended up needing to stay in London to help him with his styling work there and she was next in line, but she still isn’t too sure how she got this lucky. The past year happened so fast and it was one opportunity after another that landed her here. She’s barely had a moment to breathe after the holidays and some small jobs here and there to keep her busy. Last January, just over a year ago, Aurora traveled to London for a six week menswear design course at Central Saint Martins for some extra credits before her final semester of college. During this course, she was lucky enough to met Harry Lambert. After he saw her collection of work from the past few years, what her thesis plans were and what she had been working on during the CSM course he kept her information on file for the future. When Aurora left london at the end of the course she had no idea if she would ever hear from Harry Lambert again, but around mid march she received an email from him about an internship position he needed to fill and thought she would be perfect for. Starting the internship in NYC before she even graduated, May was a whirlwind and was the perfect indication on how the rest of her year would be. She moved to London in June and was put to work without a second to spare.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do,” Aurora’s mother starts before launching into a detailed plan on how they’re both gonna tackle packing up Aurora’s life for the next 4 months on the road, traveling. They’ve got barely 3 days until her flight leaves for London.

Nearly 4 hours later and they’ve organized Aurora’s room. Unpacking the appropriate boxes, written a new packing list, and they’ve also written a shopping list. They’ve got organized piles surrounding them. Again, Organized Chaos best describes Aurora’s life, always.

“Oh, what about that long pleated skirt you made last year? The emerald green one? You definitely need to take that.” Aurora’s eyes lit up at the idea. She loved that skirt, it was versatile enough that she could pair with heels or sneakers. Versatile pieces were key to packing she found out quickly. Her mom reaches into her closet and searches for it. “Probably at the back, haven’t worn it in awhile,” she motions towards her closet while sorting through the box of her bags, making decisions on which ones she’ll need with her.

“Oh gosh, Rory, look what I found,” her mom emerges from the closet with a handful of rolled up posters.

Aurora goes bright red knowing exactly what is on those posters. “Oh no. I kept those?” her mom sets them down on the floor but keeps one to unroll. Once the tape is off and her mom has got it flat, she turns it around to face Aurora. It’s a large poster of One Direction from a TigerBeat magazine. Aurora drops her face into her hands.

“Remember when you couldn’t see a bit of the wall cause of these posters? If I remember right, you liked that blonde one yeah?” her mom laughs, rolling the poster back up. “Maybe you should take one with you and have Harry sign it? He’d get a kick out of it, I’m sure.”

“Mom!” Aurora whines. “This is my job, my career. I have to be nothing but professional.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a joke or two. Gotta have fun still and honestly, he’d probably think it’s cute.”

��Mom, it’s embarrassing and I’m gonna be working with him and his team for the next 4 months.” Her mother can see the panic on her face. “I cannot just show up with a One Direction poster.”

“Ror, I’m just having a bit of fun with you. You need to relax or you’ll just be frustrated and stressed the entire time.” She sets the posters aside and goes to join Aurora on the floor. Placing a hand on her cheek, “Baby girl, my baby girl, promise me you’ll have some fun? This is a chance of a lifetime and I know you’ll work your butt off and do your job perfectly, but you need to enjoy it too. Okay?” Aurora nods slowly. She knows her mother is right, she always is.

“Okay,” she says softly giving her mom a weary smile.

“You’ll be okay, I know you will,” her mom says before leaning in and hugging her daughter. “I’m so proud of you.”

Aurora and her mother continue bustling around her room until the sun sets. By the time there is no daylight left there are 2 large suitcases completely full, all organized and packed with Aurora’s belongings. They spend the next hour packing up Aurora’s rolling caboodle. The large, rollable, sturdy set of drawers and compartments is from Aurora’s days as a competition dancer. It used to carry her stage makeup, extra pairs of tights, accessories and an emergency sewing kit. It was always covered in glitter and there were bobby pins in every nook and cranny, a few stray sets of false eyelashes too. But for the past 4 years, she’s used it for all things sewing and design. She never went to class or the design studio without it. Aurora and her mom empty the drawers and reorganize the contents. They make another list of things they need to pick up at the local sewing store the next day. Aurora pulls out her old sketchbooks and sets them to the side and adds a new clean book to the now empty drawer along with her cases of Micron pens, drawing pencils and prisma coloured pencils.

Aurora continues to organize each little compartment as her mother prints out small labels and adds them to the section dividers. Aurora loves to be overly organized and have everything in its place. It keeps her calm and stops her from getting overwhelmed in stressful situations. There’s nothing she hates more than being backstage at a fashion show and needing a simple needle and thread to fix a small seam quickly and having to dig through the drawers to find what she needs. Backstage life, anywhere, fashion shows, dance competitions, or even a world tour, can be stressful if you’re not prepared properly.

“Oh, keep the box of sequins and swarovski crystals in there. I actually might need them.” Aurora finishes the sentence with a giggle as she’s setting her scissors in their respective home.

“Really?” her mom laughs too.

“Yeah, some of the looks for this tour are actually pretty sparkly. You never would’ve thought. I actually might have to bedazzle a few things on the road.”

“You’re home!” her mother sing-songs. They both laugh again thinking about the countless hours they spent bedazzling dance costumes with 100’s of crystals.

After saying goodbye to her parents through a continuous flow of tears, Aurora got on an 8 hour flight. She kept herself busy on the flight to occupy her mind and stop her from overthinking or panicking about the next 4 months ahead of her. She landed in London on the 3rd of March, just a few days till she’d be back at this exact airport with the same luggage plus a few crates labeled ‘Wardrobe’ that she’d also have to care for. She made her way to the Air B’N’B that had been set up for her for the next few days and headed straight to bed. One thing Aurora, jokingly, prides herself on is the ability to sleep anywhere at anytime.

When the morning rolls around and her alarm wakes her, she’s preparing herself a cup of coffee when her phone rings. She notices Lambert’s ID on the screen. She answers and they exchange good mornings before he asks her about her travels from the day before.

“Okay, so, I’m sending a car to where you’re staying in about an hour to bring you to the arena.”

“Arena? I thought we were meeting at your studio?”

“Oh no, change of plans, sorry should have mentioned that in an email. Harry is in full rehearsal mode and everything for the tour is at the mock stage space at Wembley Arena. They’ve just finished the final tech rehearsals and Harry will be there today to start running the show,” Lambert continues. The new knowledge of Harry Styles being there on her first day makes Aurora jittery, small butterflies erupting in her stomach. She’s met Harry before. They’re friendly, but she was only just Lambert’s shadow anytime they were together. He was sweet and kind, just as everyone always says, but she was still a tad nervous. She will be with him almost everyday, on her own, without Lambert there to be a buffer. Aurora tended to be a nervous person, especially if she doesn’t know someone all that well. She can keep her nerves at bay and save a proper panic for after the situation ends most times, which is the best she can do right now. It’s something she’s working on. It’s what she hates most about herself, not being able to keep her nerves in check.

“Oh yeah, makes sense,” Aurora responds, surprisingly with no jitters evident in her voice.

“Great, I can have the run of show lookbook all put together for you when you arrive and we’ll go through it and make notes.” “Do you mind if I actually set it up when I get there? I would feel much better and more settled doing it myself as we do a walkthrough of the wardrobe.”

“Of course, Aurora, whatever you think will work best for you.”

She thanks him and they end the phone call after confirming the time and car that will be picking her up. She finishes off her coffee and heads to the living room where she left her suitcases last night. One of the large suitcases was lying on the ground, opened, exactly where Aurora left it last night. She ruffles through the contents of her suitcase, moving around different packing cubes until she finds the cube that contains her favourite black jeans. She locates a creme hooded knit sweater and some clean undergarments. She pops into the shower and continues to bustle around the small flat getting ready. At some point she turns on some music to distract her mind. There’s an airy feeling in the flat, the sun shining in london for a change and it calms Aurora down despite the nerves running through her veins. Aurora checks her watch, 10 minutes until her car is due to pick her up. She slides on her all white leather court sneakers and laces them up, tucking in the excess laces for a clean finish. She grabs her black bomber jacket and slips her arms in, then pulls out the hood from her sweater so it lays comfortably on the outside of the jacket’s collar. She takes a quick look in the full body mirror that leans up against the white brick wall across from the large, unmade bed. She’s reminded by the reflection in her mirror to text her mother and thank her for convincing her to pack her favourite clothes instead of all her fancy stuff. She looks put together but is still extremely comfortable, prepared for anything today has to offer her.

There’s a short honk from the street in front of the building. Aurora grabs her rolling caboodle and her purse before rushing out the door to meet the driver.

20 minutes later she finds herself stepping out of the car and thanking the driver for holding the door. He grabs her caboodle from the trunk and hands it to Aurora and wishing her well and to have a nice day. Harry Lambert greets her at the door giving her a big hug and exclaiming about how excited he is to have her there. He takes her an office where the tour manager, Michael is set up. The office is busy with several people working at desks on laptops and people taking phone calls. Lambert introduces Aurora to the team and gets her set up with her tour pass and all the nitty gritty stuff. Within half an hour she’s all set for tour and has her new lanyard tied to her on a belt loop. They walk through the never ending halls plastered with signs that state “Treat People With Kindness” and Aurora smiles everytime she sees another. Lambert points out different places, important notes posted on bulletin boards and casually introduces her to people as they quickly pass.

Everyone seems to be on a mission, darting in and out of rooms and talking on headsets. It’s a busy atmosphere but nobody seems stressed or upset. Aurora appreciates the hustle that everyone seems to have. There’s smiles and high fives passed between crew members and coffees getting pass along. Lambert points out where Harry’ band’s dressing room is and then Harry’s as well. Harry’s reads “Hershel” on the sign that sticks out from the wall.

“Hershel?” Lambert chuckles when he sees the confused look on her face.

“Yeah, Jeff, his manager, you’ve met him, calls him Hershel 95% of the time.” She nods along with a smile. After making their way through a few more halls they reach a larger dressing room. “Okay, so here’s our space for the week.” Aurora rolls her caboodle and sets it against the wall near the door for now and sets her purse down on an empty space on the counter that lines one of the shorter walls. On the wall directly across from the doorway there are 3 large black cases that stand about 6 feet tall, opened and filled with garment bags.

“Is everything here already?” Aurora makes her way towards the case farthest left.

“Hopefully!” Lambert picks up a large binder that’s sitting on the table across from a small leather couch. “That’s where we’re starting. Checking through each night’s look and making sure it’s all here.” She takes the binder that Lambert has handed her and opens it up to the first page.”

“Oh wow. I almost forgot how beautiful these suits are.” Towards the end of her internship in London, Lambert let her help him pick some options for the tour. She thumbs through the book quickly to get a glimpse of the beautiful designer suits. She notices quite a few of her favourites made the cut. The 2 of them sit down and devise a plan to best get through this large task of double checking the 60 looks in front of them. They’re about ¾ the way through around 1pm when they mutually decide to take a break and grab some lunch before they power through the rest of the wardrobe. After meeting more members of the crew and grabbing another cup of coffee, Lambert and Aurora make their way back to their dressing room.

“Hey, let’s go take a look at the stage,” Lambert said as he made a sharp turn in the opposite direction of the room they’ve been working in. “I haven’t seen the final setup yet.”

“Oh, I’d love that!” Aurora’s face lights up at the idea. They enter from the back of the stage. The stage itself is fully constructed but the light trees are currently hanging low to the ground and crew members are working carefully to change the direction, colour or size of each bulb. Lambert excuses himself as he takes a call, telling Aurora he’ll meet her back in the dressing room in 15 minutes. Aurora continues the theme from today and introduces herself to the stage crew. “Mind if I check out the stage?” she asks Jack, one of the crew members who introduced himself as the Stage Manager.

“Go ahead, just keep an eye out, we haven’t cleaned up much.” She nods and smiles while walking up the metal steps at the side of the stage. She takes careful steps as she steps to center stage. She looks out into the empty arena. The lights are low and the noise from the powertools is echoing through the arena.

Though there isn’t any music, the stage lights aren’t shining, and she isn’t in one of her rhinestoned costumes, she still feels at home standing center stage. The nerves she’s been holding on to all morning wash away as she takes a deep breath. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment and she remembers the last time she performed on a stage like this one. It was her senior year of high school at nationals in New York City. It was her farewell to her dance career. A smile starts to grow on her face, the nerves from this morning, the the whole trip to get here, completely washed away now.

“Oi!” a voice booms through the air, making Aurora jump and she searches for where it came from. She turns around, her hair following her as she turns. Her hair continues to follow her movement, falling in front of her face a bit but she can still make out the face the voice comes from. “What’re you doing on my stage?” She’s met with a smiley, broad shouldered Harry Styles. He’s got his hands in the pockets of the tartan trousers he’s wearing. The strong feeling of embarrassment brings heat to her cheeks as she looks down at the black and white vans he’s sporting.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I-,” she starts rambling apologies. She watches his vans take a few steps closer to her. Aurora’s fumbling with her hands, a nervous tick of hers. “-I was told, told, I could, could, check out the stage,” she’s stuttering over her words and pointing in the direction of Jack. She finally stops talking when she meets Harry’s eyes. He’s still beaming and her stomach drops at the fact that he’s enjoying this situation. His confidence paints an incredible stark difference from her mumbling nervousness. Her brain is a bit fuzzy right now but that doesn’t stop her from noticing the way his eyes sparkle.

“I’m only joking, love” he says as he pulls his hands out of his pockets with a chuckle. “The stage suits you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurora offers again. “I’m-” She’s reaching her hand out when he cuts off her introduction.

“Love, we’ve met. How could I forget you, Aurora.” She’s startled a bit when her name comes out of his mouth. “Ya fixed the hole in my pink jacket, remember?” He’s stepping closer to her and before she’s able to process what’s happening he’s wrapped his arms around her torso, his tattooed arm rubbing her back briefly before pulling away.

A small laugh leaves her mouth, “I remember, didn’t think you would is all.” Her voice is soft and trails off towards the end of her sentence.

“Not got much a reputation then if I’ve got people that work with me thinking I’ll forget them.” He lets out a soft chuckle and his smile elicits a dimple on his cheek.

“No, no, you’ve got a much better reputation than that, promise. You must meet a lot of people day to day is all.” Aurora is calming down, now, realizing that there is no reason for her to be so nervous around him. She’s interacted with him before, this shouldn’t be so jarring to her. Though this time is different. She wouldn’t be working behind Lambert or running errands. She’ll be with Harry just about everyday and she terrified she’ll never be comfortable, always anxiety ridden. Although his life is much different from hers, she’ll be getting a real taste of it and they’re close in age. They’re bound to find something in common. Right?. There’s a bit of silence before Aurora speaks up. “Well, your suits aren’t gonna organize themselves. I better go find Lambert.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t let me stop you from your work.” Aurora nods. She excuses herself as she makes a comment about how she thinks the stage looks great so far. Just after she’s walked past him she feels him grab her hand. “I’m excited to have ya on tour with us, love. Happy to have you making sure I sparkle just right on this stage.” He’s let go of her hand and presents his arms out to the sides as he mentions the stage.

She’s beaming back at him. “Packed extra rhinestones just for you.” She’s almost skipping down the stairs after that. A weight of relief falling from her shoulders in a light sigh. First, interaction with Harry? Check. She finds her way back to the room she’d been working in all morning. She settles down on the couch again, pulling the large binder into her lap. She jots down a few notes and adds to the ever growing list of things that need to be done. She stands up and walks over to one of the open wardrobe cases. She’s sliding hangers across the rack before she gets to the next look. Aurora takes the hanger off the rack. The sleek black hanger is labeled Yves Saint Laurent and an emerald green sequined button down shirt hangs off of it. There’s a pair of black straight leg trousers folded over the hanger as well. Aurora carries the ensemble across the room and hangs it on one of the vanity bulbs that sticks out from the light bulb framed mirror. She fixes the collar so it’s sitting straight. She takes a step back with one hand on her hip and another on her chin.

“What’re you thinking?” Lambert asks when he sees Aurora’s furrowed brow. She hums, still processing her thoughts.

“You know Michael Jackson’s black sequin jacket? The one he wore when he did the moonwalk for the first time?” He nods, following along. “Think we could play with that idea. What if Harry wore this open, with the Calvin tank?” In the small section of a wardrobe they’ve already gone through is a slew of clothing articles that will be used for multiple shows. The Calvin tank she’s referencing is one that will be, in Aurora’s opinion, an iconic, staple for the entire tour. It’s a simple white ribbed tank but on the left side, “Treat People With Kindness” is embroidered in black. “It’d be closer to Michael’s ‘Billie Jean’ performance in Munich that same year, but it’s the iconic sequin jacket that will sell it.”

“You really know your stuff huh?” Lambert chuckles, impressed by her knowledge and the way her brain works. Lambert walks away and grabs the tank from the rack and brings it back to Aurora.

A smile creeps onto Aurora’s face. “My mom loves Michael Jackson. Loves him like everyone loves Harry. I grew up dancing around the house to his music.” She takes the tank from Lambert after he slides it off the hanger. She’s quick to unbutton the YSL shirt in excitement but does it as carefully as possible. She hangs the tank under the shirt, turning it into a overshirt now. The smile on her face is growing. She’s in her element, doing exactly what she’s always wanted to do. Lambert places a hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. A silent approval. Aurora walks back to the table and writes down their decision for this look in the notebook she’s been working with. They go through a few more suits and make a note that they’ll need an extra white button down from Gucci. Lambert is sending Aurora there sometime this week to pick a few more things up that are getting finished and some extra shoes for Harry as well. Lambert says Harry likes to wear his shoes to dust and that Aurora will have to make sure he doesn’t go on stage with holes in his shoes cause he will, especially his rainbow loafers. They finish going through the rest of the suits before calling it a day. Lambert fills her in on the next few day’s timeline to prepare her for the week. Aurora leaves the arena feeling like her heart could burst. She couldn’t have imagined a better first day at her new job. Aurora heads to bed early, after she orders a Domino’s Pizza, to rest up for the days ahead and beat the jet lag that’s bound to hit her in the next few days.

When she gets to Wembley the next morning, Aurora grabs a coffee from craft services and says hello to a few people she recognizes from yesterday. She’s thankful that everyone has a lot to get done and people are jutting off to their own areas to get to work. Aurora would be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge that she’s a bit overwhelmed by all of the new faces. She knows faces will become familiar as time goes on but right now she’s content with her coffee and knowing that she’s walking to a room to work on her own for awhile.

When she finds herself in the familiar green room she sets herself up for the day. Aurora pulls her laptop out of her leather bag and presses play on her current spotify playlist. She likes working alone, but not in silence. After collecting her notebook from yesterday and the envelope of images that Lambert left for her she sits down and starts putting together the final look book for tour. She’s organizing the book by tour dates, making a section for each city.

“Basel, Switzerland” is written on the top of the 1st page in bold all capital letters. Aurora tapes an image of the black glittered Gucci suit that Harry will wear for the opening night of his world tour. She copies any notes she made about this look from yesterday onto the space underneath the photo. After she’s finished the page for Switzerland she goes to the large cases and pulls the black glittered Gucci suit to the empty rolling rack that she set up yesterday. Each of the traveling cases will need to be organized by date to make traveling and set up easier throughout the tour. She continues this process for the next 2 hours. Once her coffee is empty at the end of the 2 hours she has almost 6 cities complete. Aurora takes her empty coffee cup as a sign for her to take a break. Before leaving the room to get more coffee she checks her phone. There’s a few notifications, emails from lists she keeps forgetting to unsubscribe to and a string of texts from her mother. She laughs at the first text - “I know you’re probably fine, but you’re in a different country and I need to hear your voice to make sure you’re still alive and it’s not some kidnapper texting me back” - then another text about 20 mins after that one reads “I love you, I know you’re busy, but please call me” and the last one delivered just a few minutes ago, “I’m your mother, it’s my job to worry.” Aurora shakes her head and feels a bit guilty because she hasn’t texted her mom as much as she probably should have and before knocking out last night she texted her back apologizing for not calling after her first day and that she was just too exhausted.

Her mom doesn’t answer and is greeted with an automatic voicemail greeting, “Classic,” she chuckles as she hangs up without leaving a message. She shakes her head, standing in the doorway as she sends off a text saying she’s taking a break and to call her back, adding a “I’m good, everything’s amazing! Just calling to chat” as she always does so her mother doesn’t worry any more than she is. As she finishes the texts she mumbled a bit to herself about how her mother is always worrying but never picks up her dang phone. It isn’t until a familiar voice rings through the hallway that she realises she was mumbling quite clearly.

“Sorry, everything alright, love?” Harry’s distinct voice travels closer to her as she looks up from her phone to him. She’s made her way into the arena hallway completely now. There’s a small furrow in his brow but a slight grin on his face.

“Ah yeah, didn’t realise I was talking out loud.” She holds her phone up, “You know mothers, always worrying but never actually answering their phone when you call.” Harry laughs, his shoulders shaking. “She sent me this string of texts about being worried and 2 minutes later doesn’t pick up when I call her.” She sighs before sliding her phone into the pocket of the track jacket she’s got on today.

“My mum does the same. Always saying we don’t talk enough or that she misses me and when I do get the chance she’ll text me back saying she’s out with friends drinking wine or s’thing like that.” Aurora laughs along with him. When she takes a proper look at him she notices he’s wearing black adidas joggers today with a white t shirt and a black nike jacket.

“Looks like we both had the same idea when we got ready this morning,” she continues to laugh while gesturing between to two of them. They’re dressed almost identical right down to the white sneakers. Aurora’s got on her favourite black lululemon leggings instead of joggers but her tshirt and track jacket look just the same as Harry’s. Harry takes a good look at what he’s got on and back to Aurora and his eyes begin to crinkle and his nose scrunches up before he’s laughing. The laugh is almost a giggle and Aurora has to hold back from flashing him the most endearing smile.

“Guess it’s a good thing that my Head of Wardrobe and I match. Must mean I’ve got the right person taking care of my clothing then.” He swings his arm around her shoulder before asking if she’s got a minute to grab a snack.

“Probably should eat and I definitely need some more coffee,” she replies with a smile and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket not knowing what to do with them. There’s something about Harry, it’s that thing that people always talk about, his ease around everyone, the way he makes you feel like you’ve known each other forever. His kind demeanor relaxes Aurora and she’s sure this is how he makes everyone feel. Harry starts to go on about different things that are happening around the arena as they walk to the green room, pointing out different people and what they’re working on. Harry doesn’t know this, but the more Aurora knows about her surroundings and the things people are doing, the more comfortable she feels. Aurora likes knowing what’s going on. She knows it’s got something to do with wanting control over as much as she can but she also knows that there is so much going on that she can’t control anything and she especially knows that it isn’t her job. But knowing is good for her. Just as they turn the corner to the green room her phone rings. She pulls it out of her pocket and “Mother” with a pink heart is flashing on her screen. She shows the phone to Harry and she slides out from under his arm. “Rain check on the snacks?” she offers him before answering the call. She smiles as he shoots her a grin and voices an ‘of course’ before he turns around and goes back the way they had came. She questions his actions for a moment before saying hello to her mother.

Aurora pulls out her notebook while she’s in the car the next morning to review what she needs to get done today. Written in red, at the top of the page under today’s date is: final fitting with Harry @ 12pm. She’s excited to get some of the newer pieces on him and finally have all the looks together. She’s nervous too. Lambert won’t be there again today or barely at all the rest of the week, her part time buffer ripped away sooner than expected. She knows there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just Harry. ‘Just Harry,’ she continues to mumble under her breath.

“Miss Del Gatto, we’ve arrived,” Steven, her driver, who she’s come accustomed to after the past few rides, announces. Aurora looks out the window and sees the Gucci store front.

“Thanks, Steven. I’ll only be a few minutes.” She smiles at him before stepping out of the car. She got dressed this morning in slightly more put together outfit that she had on yesterday, knowing she had to stop into a few stores on her way in to pick up some pieces that were still missing. Her black chunky heeled leather boots make a clacking sound as she walks towards the entrance. Before she can even reach for the door, she’s welcomed by a man in an all black suit that is welcoming her into the store.

“Welcome to Gucci.” His voice is deep but bright and welcoming, she thanks him with a smile.

Once she’s a few more steps into the door she adjusts the small gold airplane necklace that is sitting on the outside of her black turtleneck before speaking up. “I’m here to pick up some shoes for Harry,” she rattles out. A questioned look appears on the man’s face. “Harry Lambert and Styles.” She clarifies.

“Aurora Del Gatto, yes?” another woman’s voice speaks up from across the store.

“Uh, y-yes,” she stammers while turning towards the women.

“I’m Lauren. Nice to meet you, Aurora. Harry told me to be expecting you this morning.” Aurora shakes Lauren’s hand with a smile. Lauren looks like a seasoned pro, her black suit fits her perfectly and her greying hair is pulled up into an elegant low bun. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” she says motioning towards the plush dark purple couches. “Would you like any water or coffee, dear?”

“Oh, I’m alright actually, thank you.”

“I’ll be right back with everything.” Aurora nods in acknowledgement while sitting down on the couch. She slides off the lightweight, long, camel coloured coat she’s wearing and drapes it over the couch next to her. She checks her watch to make sure she’s good on time. She’s got to stop at Calvin Klein as well before heading to arena to prep for Harry’s fitting. It’s just gone on 10am, she’s got plenty of time but still anxious at the thought of arriving just before the fitting, not getting a chance to set up. She’s brought back from her thoughts when Lauren returns with 3 shoe boxes in her arms and a garment bag.

“I think there are only 2 pairs of shoes I’m supposed to be picking up,” Aurora questions, “the rainbow loafers and the Spring 18 leather boots.” Lauren’s face lights up in a smile.

“Yes, those are both here and there’s a pair of sneakers here for you as well.” Aurora’s face reflects exactly what is going through her mind: surprise, shock, and other emotions she couldn’t put words to. Her jaw has dropped and her eyes are wide. “Harry called last night and wanted us to fit you into some Ace Sneakers for the tour.”

“Lambert said that?” Aurora is confused, giddy and nervous, always nervous. She doesn’t even know how to accept a gift like this. She’d also be lying if she hadn’t been looking at these sneakers forever.

“No, dear, Harry Styles.” Aurora is beyond caught off guard at this point.

“I’m sorry, I think there must be a mistake. There’s no reason for Harry to be giving me anything.”

“He specifically called these in for you. I don’t know the details, he just wanted to make sure you walked out with the perfect fit.” She set 2 of the boxes down on a glass table and brought over the 3rd box. “I grabbed the 7.5, I’m normally pretty good at guessing.”

“Well, you would be right.” Aurora laughs nervously. She slides off her boots in order to avoid the overwhelming thoughts in her head. She’s afraid if she doesn’t keep moving she might go into shock. She’s trying on the sneakers before she speaks up again, “Uhm,” Aurora starts to speak, “Does Harry, uh, do this often? I-I mean, uh call in for gifts?”

“I wouldn’t say often, but I’ve fulfilled a few of his gifting requests over the past few years. Just a handful though. There really hasn’t been many, if I’m honest.”

Aurora smiles to herself. She’s still confused about it all but still that same familiar feeling rushes through her when she’s reminded of Harry’s incredible kind demeanor. And before she knew it, she's walking out of Gucci with a smile on her face, a tingle in her fingers, a garment bag and not 2 but 3 boxes of shoes.

She’s setting up one last suit on the tall silver rolling rack before she checks her watch. 11:59. She made great time getting to Wembley after grabbing the pink plaid jacket and custom boots from Calvin Klein. There’s a light knock on the slightly ajar door seconds later.

“‘Ello, love,” Harry’s voice booms through the small, concrete walled room. Aurora turns towards the door. “All ready!” He exclaims as he makes his way towards her.

“Hi Harry,” Aurora responds before Harry has a hand at her waist and is placing a light kiss on the top of her cheek.

“How’s your morning been?” He’s now made his way to the rolling rack she had just filled.

“Good,” she wants to ask him about the shoes but she doesn’t know how to bring it up. “I did uh- I, I-”

“Can I try this one on?” Harry interrupts, suddenly distracted by the garments he hasn’t seen yet. She’s grabbing her book from the table across the room when she hears the sound of hangers hitting the floor. “Oooff,” there’s a chuckle that follows. “That one’s a bit slippery.”

“Oh gosh, yeah I need to add some hanger loops to that one,” Aurora sets her book down and rushes over to pick up the fallen garments and hangers. Harry utters a few sorry’s before stepping away. She swears she hears him mumble about being in the way. Once she’s got the fallen garments gathered on the crook of her arm, she grabs a hanger adorn in the pink plaid Calvin suit. “That’s what you get for being so nosy,” she quips at him and hands him the suit. His jaw drops slightly but before he can say a thing Aurora’s speaking again, “Try this one on first, please.” Aurora lingers on the please and shoots him a sweet smile. “There’s a small room through there you can change in.” She turns around after motioning towards the door and sees that Harry already has his trousers down to his ankles. “Orrrr you can change right there.”

“Oh, don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, darling,” he responds as you quickly turn away, sliding the plaid trousers all the way up and buttoning them just as fast.

“Oh no, you’re fine, don’t wanna be rude is all.” Aurora is flipping through her book finding the section for Stockholm. “The black ribbed tank was on the hanger with the jacket, yeah?” She asks as she skims over the page in front of her. He hums back letting her know it’s there. Aurora lifts up her coffee cup from earlier this morning to her lips, turning around to find Harry fully dressed in the Calvin Klein suit she picked up this morning. She frowns realising there’s no coffee left in her cup.

“What?” Harry asks, his brows knitted together in concern after seeing the frown on her face. “Does it look that bad?” He’s messing with the way he’s tucked the shirt into the waistband of the trousers.

Aurora giggles at his frantic hands. “Harry, nothing could look bad on you.” She shakes the empty cup in front of him. “I’m out of coffee.”

“Well, that frown was badly timed. I’ve got a brand new suit on and that’s the first reaction I get?’

“Oh you’ll be fine, rockstar. Plenty of ego pumping in the near future,” Aurora quips backs at him as she makes a circle around him. “They did great with this one,” she’s pulling at the shoulders of the jacket so it sits just right on his broad frame. “How do the trousers feel?” She asks as she smooths down the fabric of the sleeves before rounding back to face Harry straight on.

“The trousers? Yeah they feel good. Fit perfect, I think.” He’s pulled up the bottom of the jacket and is twisting his hips round. “Wha’ d’ya think?”

“I think Calvin Klein knows exactly what he’s doing,” she says with a smirk. “Okay, that one’s all set, go ahead and put this one on now.” She hands him another pink jacket, this one velvet with embellishments and it has a Gucci tag on it rather than Calvin Klein. She hands him black trousers with a gold trim as well. “You’ll wear this with a button down but just try with the tank. I just need to make sure all the alterations were done properly.”

“Did you stop at Gucci this morning? Lambert mentioned you were going,” he asks while handing her the plaid suit he just took off. Aurora busies herself with hanging them up.

“Yeah. Got your loafers and boots. I also-”

“Oh nooooo, Aurora,” Harry’s voice is panicky.

“Wha-,” is all she gets out before she sees and hears the beads rolling on the floor. “Ahhh I had a feeling that was going to happen. And THIS is why we try things on 100 times. Wouldn’t want you unraveling on stage.” She runs over to her kit that stands in the corner.

“I’m sorry, not sure what I did,” Harry’s face shows worry like he’s done something wrong.

“Hun, you didn’t do anything, promise. I think it might have been from the alterations.” Aurora is tying a knot in a piece of thread before walking over to him. “I’m just gonna close this strand up while it’s on you and I’ll re embellish it later.” The piece that’s come undone is on the right shoulder. She slides her hand under the jacket to find the back of the spot she needs to fix. Her hand brushes the skin of his shoulder, reminding her he’s only wear the tank underneath and he flinches. “Sorry, my hands are probably cold. This will only take a second.”

“S’alright, love.” There’s silence while she focuses on the work in front of her. Once she’s finished she carefully slips a small pair of gold scissors underneath the jacket and cuts the thread and needle she had been working with loose, detaching herself from Harry’s shoulder. “That was quick,” Harry says with a tone of surprise and Aurora thinks she can hear a little bit of disappointment as well. Aurora shrugs her shoulders in response.

“Could you put on the black version of that jacket for me?” Aurora asks as she grabs a spool of black thread. “Think we might have the same problem with that one too.” She slides the needle she’s threaded with black thread onto the cuff of her sweater so she doesn’t lose it. She helps Harry into the black jacket and hangs up the one he just had on.

“Aannddd there it is,” Harry says with chuckle as a strand of beads comes loose on his right sleeve. Aurora gets to work on the one on his sleeve as 2 more make themselves known on his back. “So you got my boots and loafers this morning? Up to anything else before I came in and ruined all the garments?” Aurora laughs and moves to his back to take care of the broken pieces there.

“Uhm picked up that Calvin jacket and your custom boots. Let me tell you, those boots are glorious. The glossed leather with the steel tip will look incredible with your suits. ”

“Oh can I see them when we’re done?”

“‘Course you can!” There’s some silence between them again as she concentrates on the job in front of her. She catches a glimpse of the white gucci bags that are sitting by one of the wardrobe cases and it’s like those new sneakers are burning a hole in her head. It clicks in her head now that he’s been directing the conversation this way trying to get it out of her. “Hey Harry,” she’s met with a hum, “can I ask you about something?” She continues to work on the jacket, keeping her hands busy. She’s thankful that the strand she’s working on is on his back so she doesn’t have to make eye contact with him.

“‘Course, Aurora.”

“Uhm, at Gucci this morning, they uh, they fitted me for sneakers,” Harry hums in response, “and um, I-I, um, that was very kind of you.” She’s stuttering through her words. It wasn’t until now that she got a tinge of nervousness. “Y-you didn’t need to do that. Really.”

“Aurora, I wanted to. And I thought you deserved some new shoes.” She can’t see his face but she can hear the smile that’s formed on his face. “We’ve got a few countries to trek around the next few months.”

Moments later she’s finished repairing what she can and she’s sliding Harry’s jacket off his shoulders. “Thank you, Harry,” she says finally after the black jacket is hung back on its Gucci hanger on the rolling rack near them. “Seriously, too kind.”

“No such thing as too kind, Ror,” he quips back and before she can comment on the nickname, he’s talking again. “Now what else do you need me to try on?”

The afternoon goes by quickly and Harry is patient with her. He stands up straight in each new piece and asks questions about different things she’s making notes of or checking off of her thousands of lists. She checks her watch quickly as she’s making one last note.

“How is it 3 o’clock already?” Aurora stammers out. “Sorry to take your entire afternoon from you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ror.” Harry’s pulling down the hem of his white tshirt he walked in wearing earlier today, “Nice to spend some time with ya and seems like you’ve been able to check a lot off your list.”

“You probably have a list a mile long of things that need to be done this week too, though,” she rebuttals. “Or do you have someone to take care of those things for you?” she jokes.

“Oh yeah, don’t remember their name, but I just tell them everything I need done and they do it for me.” The look on Aurora’s face is utter disgust, unable to politely react because she wasn’t expecting that answer. There was no hint of sarcasm in Harry’s voice. Harry’s face is still and he’s silent for a moment before his nose scrunches up and a giggle erupted from his mouth. “Ror, I’m totally kidding.” He’s placed a hand on her shoulder now, rubbing his thumb soothingly.

“Harry,” she’s giggling along now too, “you had me for a second.”

Harry thanks her for her work and the time spent together today and leaves only after giving her a hug and a short kiss on her cheek.

The next few days are spent hand stitching gold and silver beads onto those 2 Gucci jackets, labeling every single piece of the wardrobe and then organizing the giant crates for the travel managers to take and get ready to fly. She walks through all of the wardrobes multiple time and completes fittings with all of Harry’s band members as well. Brief 1 hour time frames are scheduled with each of them, Clare, Sarah, Adam and Mitch. Lambert pops in to make sure the final fittings went well and pays complements to Aurora’s new sneakers she’s sporting with a knowing look on his face.

There’s one day left till the first tour stop and the arena is just about empty. The stage is packed up, the wardrobe crates have been taken from Aurora and the number of people in the arena is starting to dwindle down. Since everything is already loaded on a truck making its way to the airport Aurora didn’t have much to do today but she kept herself busy at the apartment she’s been at all week for the majority of the morning. She’s repacked multiple times getting everything to fit perfectly, almost committing the perfect folding techniques and order of adding things to her suitcase to memory. Everyone is to arrive at the airport early the next morning but Harry has arranged for a group lunch at the arena for one last collective meeting before the tour starts.

Aurora arrives a few minutes early to the lunch and says hello to a few crew members she’s gotten to know. Lambert is there too - seems that Harry has invited anyone who has helped with the prep of the tour regardless if they’re coming along or not. She also meets a few more new faces like Ayae, Harry’s hair and makeup stylist. She’s new to the tour group and hasn’t been needed for prep so this his her 1st time meeting a lot of the crew too. She sits down with Aurora and Lambert at a table and is engaging in a conversation about this and that when Harry comes up to the table with Jeff. Jeff is a familiar face to Aurora even though she has only interacted with him a few times. Jeff always seems to be everywhere - Aurora always makes mental acknowledgment about how he is consistently working on something but always is seemingly available to everyone.

Alicia, a woman probably in her late 30’s, is following Harry and Jeff with a grey rolling cart like you would see in an old cafeteria and it’s filled with large cardboard boxes. Aurora has met Alicia and remembers Lambert introducing her as the Tour Merchandise Manager.

“Aurora, Ayae, Harry, great to see all of you! Doing alright, I assume?” Jeff asks while rounding the cart and reaching a hand in the box.

“Got some tour sweatshirts for everyone, treat people with kindness and all that,” Harry adds in, running a hand through his hair. It isn’t until now that Aurora notices the length of his hair. It’s not as short as it was when she first met him but it’s nowhere near the length she remembers him having while still in One Direction. There is one curl that won’t stay back no matter how many times he runs his hand through it to push it back. The lone curl falls against his forehead one last time before he gives up.

“Oh, very humble of you, Harry,” Ayae says with a chuckle while examining the sweatshirt Alicia had just given her.

It’s a plain black Champion hoodie with 2 small pieces of embroidery, 1 on the left of the chest and the other on the inside of the right arm. Ayae is referring to the large embroidered “Harry” on the chest. Underneath his name is ‘World Tour 2018’. Hah. He’s gotta love this shit. His name written on everything. Clothing, signs, his name is branded everywhere.

“Heyyyyy,” Harry’s voice is slightly whiny, both of his eyes scrunch up and his brows furrow. The ‘hey’ turns into a giggle and they all laugh along with him. Harry then hands Aurora her sweatshirt. “Here ya go, Ror.” She thanks him softly after taking it from him.

Post lunch, Harry, Jeff and a few others talk about how excited they are and how successful the prep went all week. The Head Travel Manager, Daniel, reminds everyone to double check their itinerary when they get home tonight and to double, triple, quadruple check they’ve packed everything. Harry yells something about making sure everyone’s got their passport cause “long story short” he forgot his once and it was not a day full of kindness. The large group chuckles at his little antidote before the room begins to clear out and everyone heads home to get ready to travel the next day.

Thanks for reading !!! Feedback & comments are always welcome !!!

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #sequins & zippers #aurora on tour #harry styles fanfiction #one direction imagine

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shipsforeveryone · 4 years ago

Text

XL Ship For Anon

Their Request -

Hi! Can I request a ship for all of your fandoms. Males only please!

Oh and for the scenario - First Fight. For TVD?

I am a tall, curvy straight female with blonde hair and blue-green eyes.

I am introverted, intellectual, I have a bunch of interests and hobbies, which I tend to hyper fixate on. I am also a bit of a jack of all trades as I like to learn/teach myself how to do a wide variety of things.

I have a very idiosyncratic point of view, I'm bookish and very interested in history. I have a knack for accurately predicting the likelihood of the future. I tend to test people to see if I can trust them a lot but then I become a friend for life. Literally, a ride or die. I have hidden dimensions and intensity and they're hidden because I'm pretty withdrawn. Wanting to watch people from afar to see if I can even poke my head out of my shell around them.

I tend to act arrogant, cryptic, or cynical when afraid. I can be diplomatic and say things without saying them. I am defiant/rebellious towards authority and habitually find counterexamples to whatever others assert. Despite this attitude, I'm incredibly loyal, hardworking, ambitious, and very idealistic.

I struggle with ADHD, social anxiety, and paranoia. I can brood over injustices or entertain conspiracy theories. I am a bigger fan of sneaky vengeance over outright confrontation. I can be passive-aggressive and self-attacking. I love all animals though I never want to personally own a dog, due to how needy and loud they are. I'm more of a cat or reptile person.

I like to record my thoughts out loud and later organize them.

I'm also currently fighting the urge to delete this because I think I sound very full of myself in this lol

Pretty please and thank you! Also sorry this was so long.

My Response

No worries, babe! You don’t sound full of yourself at all. I love the fact that you didn’t beat around the bush about describing yourself!

Avatar: The Last Airbender

OTP - Zuko. He would love your idiosyncratic point of view and how insightful you are. And would often come to your for advice.

BrOTP - Aang

NOTP - Sokka

Bright

OTP - Nick Jakoby

BrOTP - Tikka

NOTP - Daryl Ward

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

OTP - Rupert Giles. You have quite a bit in common, and you may even end up arguing the uses of technology while admiring books as much as he does.

BrOTP - Daniel “Oz” Osbourne

NOTP - Buffy Summers

Doctor Who

OTP - The 10th Doctor. He’d gently coax you out of your shell. And he’d take you anywhere in time or space that you want to go. If you don’t outright say where/when you would like to go then he’ll pick up on it by listening to your latest interests.

BrOTP - Is it cheating to say the 12th Doctor? Oh well. I think you would be partners in crime all the way.

NOTP - Rose Tyler

Dragon Age

OTP - Solas. There’s so much in common and I think you’d probably be the best option to convince him to change his plans.

BrOTP - Merrill.

NOTP - Cassandra.

Fast and Furious franchise

OTP - Tej Parker

BrOTP - Deckard Shaw

NOTP - Luke Hobbs

Game of Thrones

OTP - Tyrion Lannister. Tyrion would tease you to draw you out of your introverted shell. He'd be very interested in your hobbies, interests and your knack for predicting the future. He'd admire your wide skill set, loyalty, defiant attitude and how hardworking you are. He’d often suggest books to you and vice versa.

BrOTP - Jon Snow

NOTP - Daenerys Targaryen

Golden Girls

OTP - Dorothy.

BrOTP - Rose

NOTP - Sophia

Hannibal

OTP - Will Graham.

BrOTP - Alana Bloom.

NOTP - Jack Crawford

Harry Potter

OTP - Severus Snape. Your mind, skill set and attitude would all appeal to him very much.

BrOTP - Luna Lovegood

NOTP - Ron Weasley

Inglourious Basterds

OTP - Hugo Stiglitz

BrOTP - Donny Donowitz

NOTP - Aldo Raine

John Wick

OTP - John Wick

BrOTP - Marcus

NOTP - Winston

Jurassic Park franchise

OTP - Dr. Ian Malcolm

BrOTP - Dr. Ellie Sattler

NOTP - Dr. Sarah Harding

Kingsman

OTP - Merlin

BrOTP - Harry Hart / Galahad

NOTP - Jack Daniels / Whiskey

Legend of Korra

OTP - Mako

BrOTP - Asami Sato

NOTP - Tahno

Marvel

OTP - Bucky Barnes

BrOTP - Loki

NOTP - Natasha Romanoff

Mayans MC

OTP - Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes.

BrOTP - Johnny “Coco” Cruz

NOTP - Emily Thomas-Galindo

NCIS

OTP - Timothy McGee

BrOTP - Abby Sciuto

NOTP - Tony DiNozzo

New Girl

OTP - Nick Miller

BrOTP - Winston Saint-Marie Schmidt

NOTP - Julia Cleary

Once Upon A Time

OTP - Killian Jones / Captain Hook

BrOTP - Regina Mills

NOTP - Mary Margaret Blanchard / Snow White

Parks and Recreation

OTP - Ben Wyatt

BrOTP - April Ludgate

NOTP - Jean Ralphio Saperstein

Peaky Blinders

OTP - Tommy Shelby

BrOTP - Alfie Solomons

NOTP - Ada Thorne

Pokemon

OTP - Brock

BrOTP - Bulbasaur Ash Ketchum

NOTP - Jessie

Rick and Morty

OTP - Rick Sanchez

BrOTP - Beth Smith

NOTP - Jerry Smith.

Schitt’s Creek

OTP - David Rose

BrOTP - Ronnie Lee

NOTP - Moira Rose

Sherlock (BBC)

OTP - Sherlock Holmes. He'd adore your mind and find your skill set useful. Sherlock would love your defiance of authority and ambition. Though you'd butt heads every now and then ultimately your differences would make you an even better match. You'd both bring out each other's emotions more and understand each other better than anyone else ever could.

BrOTP - Mycroft Holmes. I know, very surprising. But like with Sherlock there’s a lot in common and a lot different. So you’d frequently argue But in the end you’d have the common goal of looking out for Sherlock to make you both closer.

NOTP - Jim Moriarty.

Sons of Anarchy

OTP - Jackson “Jax” Teller.

BrOTP - Bobby Munson

NOTP - Tara Knowles

Star Wars Prequels

OTP - Obi-Wan Kenobi

BrOTP - Qui-Gon Jinn

NOTP - Anakin Skywalker

Star Wars Original Trilogy

OTP - Luke Skywalker

BrOTP - R2D2

NOTP - Han Solo

Stranger Things

OTP - Jim Hopper. I think Hopper would admire you for testing people so thoroughly to see if you can trust them. And he’d really love how loyal you are to the people you do trust.

BrOTP - Alexei. Here me out, the two of you seem to have a bit in common. First and foremost your intelligence. And I think you’d make Hopper quit being such an ass to Alexei.

NOTP - Nancy Wheeler

Supernatural

OTP - Sam Winchester. Okay I can just see you researching together. Staying up all night in the Bunker’s library poring over every single book.

BrOTP - Charlie Bradbury. Do I need to say anything more than nerd power?

NOTP - Mary Winchester.

Teen Wolf

OTP - Chris Argent

BrOTP - Stiles Stilinski

NOTP - Lydia Martin

That 70’s Show

OTP - Eric Forman.

BrOTP - Donna Pinciotti

NOTP - Jackie Burkhardt

The Expendables

OTP - Lee Christmas

BrOTP - Barney Ross

NOTP - Mr. Church

The Hobbit

OTP - Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin would admire your wide skill set and your ambition to learn how to do so many things. He'd adore your loyalty and knack for diplomacy.

BrOTP - Fili Durin.

NOTP - Thranduil

The Lord of the Rings

OTP - Faramir.

BrOTP - Samwise Gamgee

NOTP - Denethor

The Vampire Diaries & The Originals

OTP - Elijah Mikaelson. I think that Elijah would adore your intelligence and would encourage your interests and hobbies. If you want to know anything about history? He'd be more than happy to discuss his own experiences with you. He'd often get your opinion on a course of action before doing it, due to your with and ability of predicting the possible outcomes. He'd love your original, no pun intended, point of view. And though he loves your tenacity, your ambition, your idealistic nature and your loyalty, sometimes it can frustrate him when he thinks certain people who have your loyalty don't deserve it. Or at least not at the intensity that you give it.

First Fight - Your first fight would probably have to do with your friendship and loyalty towards Klaus. While sometimes he admires it, he often wishes that you weren’t so loyal to his brother. Thinking he isn’t always deserving of it. Afterwards you’d both go in different rooms to brood until ready to make up.

BrOTP - Niklaus Mikaelson. Klaus would admire your intelligence, ambition, hard working and even defiant attitude. Your skills and ability to think differently from everyone else. He would also come to you for advice though he wouldn’t always adhere it. Though what Klaus would love most of all is your loyalty. Especially after he made it through all your tests and found himself on the receiving end of your loyalty. And he would feel guilty when your loyalty and friendship with him would cause a rift in your relationship with his brother.

NOTP - Damon Salvatore. Damon is impulsive and has his own way of testing the loyalty of those around him. Though his form of testing is more of him doing things that makes them less loyal and trusting of him. He’d probably end up trying to test and strain your loyalty towards Elijah and Klaus. Which would infuriate you. And he would fail which would infuriate him.

The Walking Dead

OTP - Negan.

BrOTP - Carl Grimes. In an AU where Rick’s Group became saviors instead of finding Alexandria. I think Carl would have become Negna’s protege and may have even softened him up.

NOTP - Rick Grimes.

The Witcher (show)

OTP - Geralt of Rivia

BrOTP - Yennefer of Vengerberg

NOTP - Queen Calanthe

True Blood

OTP - Eric Northman

BrOTP - Bill Compton

NOTP - Sam Merlotte

Vikings

OTP - Ragnar Lothbrok

BrOTP - Ivar the Boneless

NOTP - Björn Ironside

WWE (kayfabe personas)

OTP - Roman Reigns

BrOTP - Finn Balor

NOTP - Chris Jericho

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aboyandhisstarship · 4 years ago

Note

i want a foxiyo Pendragon fanfic

ok...but it’s not really my best work, let me know what you think:

Pantora:

Riyo was sitting in her family home, in front of her was a human she had never met before, he was down on one knee saying “Riyo, it’s so nice to meet you I’m Press Tilton, and I have something very important to tell you.”

In his hand was a ring.

years later:

Journal number 15, Coruscant:

SPACE! Now that I have your attention Mark and Courtney, this one is a bit weird; ok in fairness they are all weird. You see this territory, is a not a single planet in an instance in time but a galaxy…like a full on alien life galaxy it is honestly sick.

One rub as there often is, is that this galaxy is in the middle of a civil war, ya I know that screams ol Saint Dane, But so far no signs of him. Of course that does not mean he is not around. This is Saint Dane we are talking about the guy can be anyone.

But let’s get into it. I climbed out of the flume and I was in a concrete style room. So this place is at least slightly advanced.

I glanced to the floor and saw the clothes of this territory. Yea, I was not a fan, in my time travelling Halla I have run into some questionable fashion choices. But this, this was rough.

First was a puffy shirt, a bright pink puffy shirt. Kind of like pirates wear, Bell bottom looking pants with weird metal boots. And a Petty coat looking jacket, as I was getting dressed (leaving on my Second Earth boxers, I have to draw the line somewhere) I was thinking that maybe Saint Dane left these clothes here. I mean come on, I looked like a rejected Pirate in a Disney movie from the seventies, there is no way people actually dress like this.

Underneath the small pile of clothes was a black item, it looked kind of like a Nurf gun, but this bad boy did not fire foam darts, nope…it shoot lasers! Again Pretty cool. But of course my bubble was burst pretty quick after all a weapon meant only one thing, Quigs…god damn it.

I gently pushed open the exit from the flume peaking my head out gun at the ready to shoot any yellow eyed freak I saw, but the room outside of the flume was pretty quiet, it looked some kind of spare parts storage room.

Scattered all around where scraps of metal and wire in what looked kind of like giant plastic boxes. I stepped out of the room closing the door to the flume, it looked like it was built into the wall, the Star was visible, craved into the wall as always.

I kept the blaster close as I crept out of the machine room and there I spotted them, robots! Like something out of Sci fi! I was starting to worry that maybe Coruscant was a territory of all Robots. Honestly that sounded kind of cool but then again, I was not fond of the idea of Saint Dane logic bombing an entire city.

As I crept along trying to figure out how to get out of the machine shop, a robot turned to me…and it’s eyes they were yellow.

Quigs…yea Gulp.

The machine let out a loud chirping and his buddy’s came calling, close to 20 or 30 of them carrying tools of some kind eyes glowing and they were coming for me.

I aimed the gun and pulled the trigger and nothing happened. Now I have not actually fired that many guns in my time travelling the universe, most territory’s don’t have them. I looked to see if I could find a safety like switch, as *ZAPPPPPPPPP* some kind of electric blade sailed past my shoulder, I rolled onto the ground and took off running picking a direction.

For once I actually chose right, the robots were hot on my heels but I saw an opening, where something that looked vaguely car shaped was waiting.

Ignoring the nagging reminder that I left Second Earth before I ever learned to drive I dove for the car thing, A robot jumped on after me but I managed to kick it off. Before I crawled into the driver’s seat saying “oh god oh god, ok pedals?”

I scanned the ground, no pedals; I didn’t see a key like cars on Second Earth.

Then on the steering wheel, ok it was not a wheel, at least not in the way you are thinking of, and more like a yoke, like on planes. Anyway there were two buttons on the wheel I hit them and the Car thing took off hard super hard.

“Woah woah slow down! Uhh breaks!?”

I scanned the controls for the brakes as I pulled up ending up in traffic, as I was bobbing and weaving saying “Please breaks, auto pilot, something anything.”

Now then I heard sirens, great the police…this will be fun to explain.

The police demanded “pull over!”

I called back to the police were on hover bikes along side of me “believe me I would love to, but I have no idea how to drive this thing!”

The cops fired a dart thing at my car and took control, think god.

We gently landed on some kind of platform, Aliens walked by clear as day. And they were dressed more cohertly then I was, as I was looking around before the cop said “sir, we need to see some ID.”

Uh oh, I turned to the cops, they were white armor with red stripes and they were armed, blasters at the ready, I smiled sheepishly “would you believe me if it told you I lost it?”

Another cop spoke “sir, put your hands up please.” It was a different guy from the one that talked before, and yet sounded the same, maybe they were robots.

They aimed at me saying “sir, hands up!”

I slowly raised my hands above my head, as they reached into my coat and pulled out the gun that was left at the flume…I forgot I had that.

I was surrounded as they said “hands behind your head!”

I did and was swiftly handcuffed, great start.

One of them asked “are you with the sepies!?”

I had no idea what he was talking about, well it was coin flip time. “uhhh yes…?”

The cops tensed up, welp wrong answer the officer said “on your feet I think you need to see the commander.”

I was shoved into their car thing as they went a lot smoother then my driving, which in fairness was not hard. I looked around at the active and vibrate city of Coruscant and I noticed the lack of green, I mean New York had Central park, in fact most Big cities I could think of on Second Earth had some kind of Green plants, but here nothing…it was literally all city.

We spent about 5 minutes travelling through the city before we arrived at a building, it was rather bland in design, and made of the same slate material as the rest of the city, I was led inside and shoved into a small room, but not before being searched again. I figured they would take my ring, but they examined and scanned it before handing it back to me and leaving me to stew.

After a few minutes I started to look around, after all I needed to bust out of here, either high tail it back to the flume and come up with a new plan or hopefully dodge the heat.

Well the room was escape proof, or at least seemed that way, so I was stuck there in my pink shirt feeling like a fool.

A few minutes later another cop entered wearing the same armor as the others. I was still not sure if this guy was a robot, he said flatly “my men tell me you are a separatist.”

A Separatist, I thought they said, ohh I guess I should have seen that one coming as I scratched my head “yea that’s me…big Separatist.”

I mean I had literally no other option but to stick to the story at that point, and just hope these guys would not shoot me.

That’s one the guy walked over to the camera in the corner and turned it off, uh oh I had seen enough detective movies to not like where this was going. Then he maundered his armor before pulling out something on a piece of string it was a heavy sliver ring, with a large slate stone in the middle, a traveler ring!

I exhaled “oh thank god, I thought I had really screwed the pooch on that one.”

The guy took off his helmet and revealed a man, he was dark skinned, the closest thing I could think of in Second Earth terms would be the natives of Hawaii.

The guy said simply “my name is Commander Fox sir; I am the acolyte for this territory.”

I nodded “Bobby Pendragon, so what is Saint Dane doing here?”

Fox looked down, the guy looked tired. Honestly I was a little worried as he said “Kriff I have no idea, I mean if he is looking to cause Chaos, then he need not bother.”

He reached over unlocking my handcuffs as I asked “that bad huh?”

Fox nodded “worse, thousands dying a day, millions more displaced.”

I bit my lip, yea this had Saint Dane written all over it, I asked “can you get me out of ya know jail?”

Fox scratched his head “yea I will say…you’re an undercover spy for us?”

I looked at him “will anyone buy that?”

Fox answered “probably.”

Probably probably! I’m looking at whatever the punishment for treason is here and he is hitting me with the probably!? I stood up saying “I sure hope it does, I’m not in the mood to get the lethal injection.”

Fox looked at me before saying “yes I suppose, so you have done this kind of thing before?”

I followed him toward the door “the getting arrested after arriving thing? because honestly, this is a first.”

Fox said “no the, fighting Saint Dane saving the day thing.”

I sighed “honestly…I have lost count I have done it so many times, I mean I win some, he wins some…but every day is a new one.”

Fox pushed open the door “yea that makes sense.”

9 hours later, that’s right guys…it took 9 hours to get out, but when we did I was taken toward a truly impressive building., Fox told me “this is the galactic senate, the seat of government for the republic.”

Again, cool…but my gut was telling me something was off, I mean this territory was at war. The question was why and what role did Saint Dane play.

As we walked through the lavish halls, I saw some oddly dressed folks, Most glared at Fox like he had run over there dogs. And nodded at me like I was one of them. I tried to blend into the background best I could, but it was hard.

After a few minutes we arrived outside of a room. Fox knocked and a second later a voice said “come in.”

The door opened to show a quiet office, inside was a woman with blue skin, she looked to be maybe 20 years old, and her hair was purple she had strange gold streaks along her cheeks. She seemed flustered rushing to meet me.

The girl said “Bobby Pendragon? Press told me all about you, Riyo Chuchi traveler from Coruscant …but you knew that.” She babbled

I raised my hands “pleasure to meet you; you have a nice place here?” Honestly my experice in this territory had not been super positive so far.

Riyo looked me up and down before asking Fox teasingly “this is what you left for him?”

Fox blushed “look…my fashion sense is not exactly.”

I jumped in to cover for him “it’s not the worst thing I ever had to wear on a territory.”

Riyo looked at me asking “oh and what is?”

I answered easily “Eelong, Humans are not considered to be intelligent beings, so they are…well long story short I had to wear rags…yea that place was not fun, almost gotten eaten by a raptor…oh and the Quigs were…”

I looked around the room seeing there eyes start to glaze over, I scratched my head before saying “so you know what Saint Dane has planned here?”

Riyo looked down “I have no clue, he could be anyone…there is a lot of corruption in the galaxy…but there is one woman who can perhaps help us find out who is playing all sides.”

I plucked down on her couch asking “any paper around here, I got to start my journal?” Fox hugged Riyo real deep before leaving…oh looks there is something there, nice.

That’s when I was given the freaking sweet holo recorder I made this journal on Mark and Cortney, I think this one is even better then Veelox? Your thoughts…well as I am writing this, tomorrow Riyo and I am visiting two important types…I am pretending to be from the distant planet of…Bronx, let’s hope they don’t space google it.

The fellows I’m meeting is a Senator like Riyo, Padme something and her secret husband a General Anakin Skywalker, who belongs to group of solider monks…sounds pretty cool. Oh and Riyo tells me they can read minds…great

Miss you guys stay safe

End of Journal 15:

#Foxiyo #Pendragon #first time writing foxiyo...not that there is much of them sorry

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

Ten Years - Part Three (Final)

summary: ten years after 2007 Warped Tour, Shawn and Val come face to face in London

warnings: Language, NSFW (unprotected sex), A Sense of Finality (TM)

WC: 5.9k

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He bought her tiny headphones.

Shawn called at least six of his friends he knows have kids -- Mark Hoppus, Travis Clark and Pete Wentz among them. He asked them what kind of noise-deadening headphones they bought for their kids when they were babies. He did research about decibel levels and infant hearing development. He splurged for the best pair.

Alice’s first Forefront concert is on February 26th, 2018 at the O2 Arena in Greenwich. Val has been planning Alice’s concert outfit for at least a month, which of course is foolish, because Alice is growing like a weed. They don’t know who is more excited about it, Shawn or Val. Alice, in her tiny Chuck Taylors with giant cushiony headphones that look like oversized Princess Leia buns over her ears, is clueless.

Forefront is playing a quick series of four shows at the O2 to round out the final promo push for their last album before Shawn really settles into writing the new one. They’ll be the last Forefront shows until the holidays. Shawn wonders where he’ll be then.

He heads to the arena early for soundcheck, so the girls will meet him there before the show. He put Diet Coke on the rider for Val and Farley’s Rusks for Alice. He wants them to feel at home there with him, wants to show Val that this kind of family, though unconventional, could work for all of them.

It’s been a couple months since they returned from their holidays. Adjusting hasn’t been entirely simple. Shawn barely slept at his rental flat for the first couple weeks after New Years, spending every spare second he had with Val and Alice, but they soon realized that wasn’t the best way to begin this.

It needed to make sense. Practically living together so quickly gave both of them an uneasy feeling of deja vu drawing back to the night before he left her on Warped Tour with an armful of hastily made promises. What made sense were baby steps.

They spent a lot of time on FaceTime at first. Slowly, they found ways to incorporate Shawn into Val and Alice’s fairly strict routine. They started taking walks around Farringdon a couple nights a week to lull Alice to sleep. He began spending the night on weekends, then staying over after their night walks and learning the morning ritual. He’s gotten good at it. He’s even helpful now.

He’s trying not to think too far ahead. He knows writing the album can only take so long. When it’s done, they have to record it, which they’ll be doing in LA. On the other side of the world. When he thinks about it, his blood feels thick and sluggish, dragging through his veins as panic sets in. He’ll be so far away. He’s going to miss them so much it’ll feel like he left a limb back in England.

This is why he doesn’t think about it.

He’s curled up on the sofa in the green room with an acoustic in his lap, riddling out what this song in his head is trying to say when there’s a knock. Andrew enters wearing a very self-satisfied grin, toting Val and Alice behind him.

Aside from the child in her arms, Val looks about as much like a tired mum of an almost-one-year-old as Shawn does. Her hair’s blown out in soft, touchable curls. Her now vintage Forefront tee is strategically worn and torn, tucked into the tightest high-waisted jeans he’s ever seen that get swallowed up by thigh high leather boots.

The noisy green room full of Forefront members, assorted crew and some London-based friends all fall almost silent. If Val notices, she doesn’t let on. Shawn bets she’s used to it. Val’s never walked into a room where she hasn’t drawn every eye. Even with a squirming, squealing baby in her arms.

Shawn practically throws the guitar beside him and leaps to stand. Val beams, her red painted lips spreading eagerly. It’s all Shawn can do not to kiss her like they’re alone. The guys whistle anyway.

“Fuck off,” Shawn laughs as he pulls away, but his cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. She wipes a bit of lipstick off his mouth, though looking at her, you wouldn’t be able to tell that it smudged. Shawn’s never understood that kind of power.

Each of the Forefront boys take their turns greeting her and introducing themselves to little Alice, who has them wrapped around her pudgy fingers with a single nearly toothless smile. Seth is the only one that asks to hold her, and, incidentally, is the only one Val would’ve allowed to do it. Even so, Shawn hovers impatiently beside Seth the whole five minutes before Seth gives up and forks over the baby.

Shawn scoops her into his chest and showers her little face with kisses as she squeaks and kicks her powerful sausage legs. Val watches, propped on the arm of the couch with her long legs folded.

“Good to see you again.”

Val looks over her shoulder. Francis is wearing the same troublesome smile she remembers. She grins back.

“It’s been a while.”

“Been a fuckin’ lifetime,” Francis laughs, dropping into the seat next to her, watching Shawn let Alice pluck at the guitar he usually doesn’t let anyone else touch.

Even with the smile, he’s different than she remembers. A little more subdued, maybe a little less focused on competing with Shawn for all the attention in the room. He seems more inside himself in a way a man only can be when he’s grown up. Val’s not unfamiliar with this kind of energy shift. Between the Streets of Gold and All Time Low boys, she’s watched a lot of pop punk brats grow up. From impatient, ambitious teenagers, they become kind, wise, thoughtful men. Francis, she can sense, is no exception.

“Haven’t seen him like this in so long,” Francis admits, looking over her with a ghost of ebbing suspicion in his gaze. She understands why.

“Not that he’s been, like, miserable or anything,” Francis assures her, widening his eyes a little to support his words, “But, you know. Maybe a bit lonely.”

She nods. Her eyes are warm and understanding. Francis sees how Shawn could’ve fallen into them and never found a way out again.

“Me too, I think,” she murmurs.

The room brightens up even more as the guys prepare for the show. The opener is audible and muffled around the screams of tens of thousands of fans. Val, with her daughter back in her arms, watches as the scared, humbled kids she used to watch pout over playing for a dozen kids prepare for an arena show without breaking a sweat. They each take a tequila shot beside the stage. Val tastes it in Shawn’s mouth when she takes one last kiss. Their chests rumble with the drum track that plays to hype up the crowd before they take the stage. Shawn adjusts Alice’s comically large headphones one last time and checks her face for any sign of upset or discomfort. Her big beautiful eyes are wide, taking it in. They snap shut when Shawn kisses her on the nose with a chuckle.

With one last proud, excited glance over his shoulder, Shawn strides out onto the stage, guitar slung behind his broad back, greeted by roaring, adoring screams. Val swallows and bounces Alice against her hip, feeling almost starstruck.

The show is the finely-tuned version of what she remembers. It’s unstructured and free and fun, a celebration of the music, the friends, the night. Every fan in the gigantic room is a friend and everyone’s here for the party. It’s everything a pop punk show should be, but on a larger scale.

Val dances and sings along, holding Alice’s fingers and twirling to make her laugh. She catches Shawn’s eye several times, her heart vaulting over a beat with each one, giving and accepting more kisses when he jogs back occasionally to change out a guitar.

By the time the show ends, Alice has fallen asleep and been toted off by Bobby’s mom to nap in the green room.

“You let Louise take her?” Shawn whines as he comes off stage panting, having to yell over the fading cheers and applause, “Bad idea. I mean, just look how Bobby turned out.”

Bobby lets out a cry of protest. Val lifts Shawn’s sweaty, bare arm and slings it around her shoulders.

“‘S ok. She’s asleep. And we’re busy.”

Shawn blinks, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Are we?”

Instead of returning to the green room, Val takes Shawn by the hand and guides him to his private dressing room. He watches her lead him, or watches the pockets on the backs of her jeans twist and flick as she swings her hips. He can feel his pulse in his ears when she locks the dressing room door behind them.

She’s quiet for a minute, and it’s unnerving. But he knows better than to break it first. He can feel it in the air around them.

Val tilts her head, looking him up and down hungrily. She leans against the back of the couch and pushes some curls out of her face.

She’s all leg and dark hair and brown skin and fire. Shawn gulps comically.

“You are so fucking sexy.”

He blinks. He was thinking it, but he swears he didn’t actually speak. It takes him a beat too long to realize she’s the one that said it.

“Oh yeah?” he pants.

She nods, reaching a hand out for him. He scrambles a bit to take it, greedy for her invitation. She smiles knowingly, lovingly, and pulls his hands onto her hips. He allows himself one needy squeeze before he’s determined to behave himself.

Even though he’s looking down at her, he’s the one that feels like the willing prey to her predator. She reaches up and fingers the necklace hanging against his chest. Her eyes remain steady on his as he waits for whatever’s coming.

“You’re so powerful on that stage. Confident and sensitive and open and in control. Been wet for you since the first song.”

Shawn’s breath hitches. He quirks a smile. She smiles back and it’s like a shot of adrenaline to his heart.

“But you know who’s in control here, papi?”

Shawn’s eyes flutter shut. His shoulders soften. His body relaxes even as he throbs hard for her already in his jeans. He throws himself into desperately desired surrender.

“You.”

The word is like a prayer on his lips. It hangs heavy between them. He opens his eyes to see her nodding hungrily.

“Get on your knees, honey.”

Shawn muffles a groan, slowly descending to kneel on the carpet at her feet. She watches, satisfied as he blinks up at her, wide-eyed and awestruck.

“Wanna take my boots off?”

He wets his lips and lets his eyes drop to the zipper resting against her inner thigh on her left leg. He feels a flash of a memory prod him, the memory of an inhumanely hot day in Texas in the summer of 2007, the feel of sweat dripping down his neck with the taste of the woman he loves on his lips. He shivers.

Val pushes red polished fingers into his hair, seemingly unbothered by the sweat and hair paste that have thickened it. His eyes flutter. He lifts his hands to her leg, pulling the zipper slowly, admiring her as she so graciously lets him, until he pulls the boot and sock off and starts on the other leg. By the time he’s finished with his hands cupped around the backs of her knees, he’s panting.

Val, watching him with a small smirk, reaches down to lift the hem of her shirt with his band’s logo on the front. Her intricately detailed lace bra is nude, the color of brown sugar, almost as pretty as all her bare skin. Shawn shudders a breath that feels like it scratches on its way out. He tilts his forehead against her hot stomach and forces an inhale.

She starts clawing at the shirt on his back. He can feel how desperate she’s becoming through the haphazard dragging of her nails on his skin until she yanks it over his head and pulls him to his feet. Her eyes are flooded and dark. Her lips are parted. She’s staring at him like she’s trying to decide what she should have him do next. He tucks a curl behind her ear, skimming her soft cheek with his thumb.

“Anything, baby. I’ll give you anything. I’m yours. Please.”

His voice is hoarse from the show and from the closeness of her. She inhales sharply, her incredible breasts rising temptingly in her bra before she snaps like a viper, dragging his lips to hers. They kiss like they’re aching. They’re not shy about biting, sucking, moaning, tasting, taking. They need this. And it feels so fucking good.

Val’s lips wander with purpose, smearing Russian Red over his sharp jaw until she hits paydirt, sucking and nibbling at the spot below his ear that gets him loud.

“Jesus Christ, Vally,” he gasps, rocking his hips hard against her stomach. She mewls at his reaction, biting harder, soothing him with her tongue as he quakes in her arms. He can’t keep quiet. His every breath is a gasping moan. He’s outside himself and he’s not even naked yet.

She seems to want to fix that, fingers tripping over hard muscle on their way down to his jeans, which he helps her peel off, along with his blue Calvins. Next come her jeans, which are even snugger and make Shawn’s fucking head spin. Her matching bra and panties are quickly forgotten, wet and useless on the ground.

She’s propped up on the arm of the couch, legs spread to cradle him between as they writhe like teenagers. Shawn’s cock throbs insistently, trapped between them as her nipple rings brush his chest. Their kisses are so wet and messy, they’re nothing more than a way to be connected while they gasp for air.

“Vally, let me give you something. Please. Fuck.” His voice is fucked out, breaking for her. He’s sure she wants something -- his fingers? His tongue? Both? Whatever she wants, it’s hers. But he needs her to take it.

She shakes her head fervently, her eyes glassy. “Can’t. Can’t wait. Need you inside me.”

Shawn’s gasp is so loud it rattles both their chests as they continue to rock their bodies together. He’s nodding so hard he almost headbutts her. She giggles, making his cock twitch again, and eases him away gently.

Shawn stands back, fists clenched, watching her lift herself off the arm of the couch only to turn around and unfurl over it, her ass in the air, her sticky, sweaty hair stuck to her soft back. She spreads her legs enough for Shawn to see her pink and glistening wet for him. He grabs at his dick, giving himself a squeeze at the base as he swears.

“Holy shit, Valentina.”

Val’s grin, the unholy one, the one he’d let drag him to hell, settles in on her swollen, smeared lips. “Let me show you how I like it this way, papi.”

Shawn’s never given up the opportunity to let her teach him a lesson before. He’s not about to start now. He nods again like a fucking bobblehead doll and practically stumbles up behind her, hands gripping her hips.

Val secures a hand around the back of the couch and looks at him over her shoulder again. “Go ahead, baby. I’m nice and wet for you.”

“Fuck, yeah, you are,” he grunts, positioning the head of his cock against her dripping entrance. He presses in slowly, watching her face.

“Keep going,” she murmurs, sounding high on him, spreading her legs a bit further, greedily. Shawn whimpers when he bottoms out.

“Now,” she hisses, struggling to speak coherently, “Keep your hips still for me. Just feel me.”

Shawn begs whatever higher power there is for self-control and slides his hands up to grip her waist as she starts to move. From above her, he watches her body roll, her hips rocking smoothly from side to side as she sets their pace. Shawn’s jaw drops. He holds fast, stunned as she takes what she needs from him exactly how she wants it.

“Feels so good, baby,” she praises, though she’s doing all the work. Shawn mumbles back in the affirmative, transfixed by the slowly increasing pace of her rocking motion as she fucks him.

��Never done it like this before,” he rasps, shaking his head at her ingenuity. With her hands planted below her, she gives him a pulse with her tight walls and smirks over her shoulder.

“I like to keep you guessing.”

He moans, rattling through into her squeezing wet core. She gasps, rhythm faltering. In a few seconds. She’s using her hands for leverage, pressing back into him and ebbing away, sliding his cock in and out as he remains still.

“Vally, baby,” Shawn growls, shifting one large hand from her waist to caress her back, lovingly skimming every notch of her spine. He takes a handful of her ass, kneading her flesh in his fingers. She purrs his name and his other hand off her waist, trailing it down to skim over the patch of hair crowning her perfect pussy. Shawn takes the hint and presses two firm fingers into her clit, letting her grinding motion serve her best.

“Yes!” she cries, thrusting back harder, riding him unforgivingly. He’s holding on by the skin of his fucking teeth for her. He knows she’ll give it when she’s ready. She’ll be ready once she takes hers.

“Gonna come, Vally?”

She nods breathlessly. With one last flash of dark eyes over her shoulder, she hisses, “Fuck me.”

Shawn’s eyes go wide. He bucks his hips, catching up with her rhythm quickly as his starts strumming his fingers against her clit, watching her come up on her tiptoes beneath him, her back arching.

“Yes! Yes! Harder!”

Shawn bears down, grunting with each powerful swing, trying to ignore the filthy sound of her wet cunt around his shaft. He wants to get her there first before he follows. He shifts his hand, gets her clit between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, pulsing her clit between his fingers as his hips pound her ass.

“I’m gonna come!” she cries, the end of her announcement swallowed up by a squeak that makes his stomach drop. She rolls her hips hard against the arm of the leather couch, fucking back against him relentlessly, her pussy clenching and pulsing as she comes hard all over his cock.

Her grunting is unintelligible, but Shawn thinks it’s a mix of slurred Spanish punctuated by his name. He can’t tell. His ears are ringing as he follows close behind her, screaming “FUCK!” when he finishes. Their hips roll to a stop. One of Val’s hands releases his ass cheek that she reached back and grabbed, her nails leaving marks. Shawn winces, chuckling, pulling out of her to secure a wet towel from the bathroom.

He squats behind her, leaving little kisses over her ass and thighs as he wipes her gently. She makes a whimpering noise and reaches for him. He unfolds her carefully to stand, weak and supple as she rests against his chest. He continues spoiling as much of her as he can reach with kisses until she’s giggling so hard he laughs with her.

“Holy shit,” she declares, lifting her head to look at him.

He shrugs. “You started it.”

Smug, she grins, “I always do.”

On July 22nd, Shawn is booked on a flight to Toronto to see his family for a few days before leaving for LA to begin recording.

He stretched the writing out for as long as he could. He pored over lyrics, samples, suggestions from co-writers and producers, piecing it together, then tearing it apart. The problem is, it was flowing out of him. This album was right under the surface of his skin, not letting him rest until he got it out.

It’s mostly about her, of course. Val knows. She helped write a few tracks. By the time summer came, Shawn had all but moved out of his rental flat and in with Val and Alice, full time boyfriend and dad-like figure. They celebrated Alice’s first birthday in Hyde Park. They made picnics for Sundays in Kensington Gardens and Shawn ran around with Alice in the Princess Diana Memorial Playground. He and Val made passionate, ferocious, intimate, quiet, silly, giggly, perfect love for months on end, knowing a drought was coming.

And then it came. The album was ready. There was no hiding from it, not with the hooting and hollering of the label and his management. The time to leave London hit Shawn and Val like a ton of bricks. They traded off being The Positive One and The Miserable One until… well, until they were both miserable.

Standing outside her flat with a black cab waiting to take him to Heathrow, Val holds Alice in one arm and swipes at her tears with the other. She forces a smile. Shawn’s eyes are red and cloudy. His hair is frizzy from how often he’s been jerking his hands through it. He tries to smile back.

“Come here, papi,” she croaks, opening her arm to him. He shuffles forward, draping himself around his little family. He sniffs into her shoulder, willing himself not to cry again. At least not until he gets in the cab.

“We love you,” she whispers hoarsely. He squeezes his traitorous eyes and cradles his girls, rocking them against his chest. Alice, clueless, grabs a handful of Shawn’s hair and yanks.

He smiles for real this time, peeling her little fingers off his hair and bringing her fist to his lips. She patiently coos at the pecking kisses he leaves all over her face and hair until his throat tightens and his chest rattles.

He pulls back to look at her and glances at her mother, who’s trying to hold it together and failing.

“Listen,” he rasps, tucking a hand up under Val’s soft hair to massage the back of her neck, “I-I know you’re superwoman and you can do this all on your own. I know you don’t really need me. Just… just try to pretend you do until I come back, ok? Please? Don’t forget… that I’m part of the family now.”

Val’s heart splits. It’s clean and sharp and she’s sure he could hear it in her chest as she felt it. She releases a sob, clapping a hand over her mouth as he pulls her close to brush his nose through her hair.

“Baby… we need you. God, we do need you. We love you, we both do, so much. And fuck, even if we didn’t need you, we want you. We chose you. Ok? I’ll remind you of it every day. We love you so much, baby. I love you.”

Val buries her face in Shawn’s neck. His heart is so full it aches. He can only hope it’s enough to sustain him until he can try to wrangle a time for them to visit, or for him to fly back.

“I’ll finish as soon as I can. I promise. I’ll--”

The cabbie honks. Shawn grunts, irritated. With a slow inhale, he peels himself away.

He swallows. “I love you, Vally. I love you, Alice.”

He steps backward and tucks himself into the cab. Val and Alice wave until it’s long out of sight.

“She’s got another tooth coming in. She’s like a shark, this kid. It never stops.”

Shawn laughs. He’s got the phone up against his ear and a hand resting on his chest like he’s trying to hold his fragile heart together. He’s face up on his bed in his LA rental. West Hollywood is noisy outside on a Saturday morning.

On the other side of the planet, London is quiet and rainy. Alice went to sleep an hour ago, so Val called Shawn to keep her company. It’s been two months and 17 days since he left for LA. He flew out to see them last month for two days because he got so miserable, his band banished him and told him not to come back to the studio until he got his Val and Alice fix. Leaving them was a little easier that time, knowing he wouldn’t be gone so long. The album was practically complete. The process had been slowed down by meetings about planning a tour and Shawn’s personal ventures writing with other artists, even helping produce a single for All Time Low. But in 18 days, Shawn would be home.

Home, home. As in, sending his stuff from Toronto, planting himself permanently on the other side of the pond, home. He’ll be moving in with Val and Alice until they can decide on a newer, bigger, better place -- Shawn likes the idea of a townhouse in North London, quiet and removed. Val wants to stay in the city, closer to the museum, in a three-bedroom flat in Kensington, maybe near the park if they can afford it.

Until that time, phone calls and FaceTime sustain them. Shawn is antsy, has been all day. He thinks he hears the same edge in Val’s voice. Phone sex isn’t at all new. It’s one of the only things that’s been keeping them sane during their separation. Usually Val is the one instigating, though. But he wants her to feel wanted, seduced. He’s just not sure he knows how to begin without stumbling into it.

“So… uh, what are you wearing?”

Idiot.

Val laughs. “A latex bodysuit and red lipstick.”

He grunts and wrinkles his nose. “That’s a mean image to put in my head.”

“Mhmm. Well, what are you wearing?”

He glances down at himself like he forgot. “Uh, sweatpants.”

“Me too. Yours, actually.”

Shawn bites down on his lower lip, worrying the ring with his tongue. “What’s underneath?”

She pauses. “Well, I could lie and say I’m wearing the little red ones you like with the straps and the lace. But really, I’m wearing the boyshorts I sleep in.”

Shawn hums, closing his eyes. His fingers twitch on his chest. “That’s ok, I miss those, too.”

“What else do you miss?” Val murmurs, shutting her bedroom door behind her and dropping onto the bed, getting comfy.

“I miss… fuckin’ everything. I miss the way your hair smells in the morning. I miss your tattoos. I miss the spot under your belly button that makes you squeak when I kiss it. I miss the way you taste.”

Val’s eyes fall shut. She slips her hand down her belly and into the waistband of her panties. Her sigh is enough to tell him what he wanted to know.

“Touching yourself, honey?”

She nods, though he can’t see. “Join me.”

Shawn huffs a breath and wriggles out of his sweats, kicking them at the door. He spreads his thighs, determined to go slow. He’s so keyed up that if he starts hot and heavy right away, he’ll beat her to the finish line. Even by phone, he refuses to do that.

He runs his hand up his inner thigh and gives himself a squeeze through the fabric. Val smiles at his sharp inhale.

“What do you want tonight, baby?”

Shawn’s eyebrows lift. “You’re… you want me to pick?”

She hums, cupping her pussy, rocking into her hand as she lets herself imagine the options. “Whatever you want.”

“Could you… I mean, like, if you want to… I-I miss your mouth.” He goes hot pink and waits.

Val tilts her head back. “God, that sounds so good. I miss being on my knees for you.”

Shawn sighs, wrapping a hand around the head of his cock through his boxers, massaging himself, “Yeah. Feels so good every time, honey. You’re incredible.”

Val feeds off his praise. Soon, her panties and sweats are crumpled at the end of the bed. “I like starting by kissing your chest and your stomach. Soft at first, looking up at you while I taste your skin. Then sharper, harder, leaving marks.”

“Yeah,” Shawn grunts, “Mark me.”

“Little bruises on your chest. I swirl my tongue around your nipples. I know they’re sensitive.”

Shawn flicks one with his thumb and lets her hear his breathing hitch. “Yeah, baby.”

“I like leaving a trail of marks down your abdomen to show you where I’ve been. Shawn, you’re so hard for me.”

Shawn kicks out of his boxer briefs and fists his cock, groaning, “So hard, fuck. You drive me crazy like this.”

She’s barely done anything yet and he’s losing his mind. He thinks absently when she gets hands on him again he’s going to come so fast his head will spin. He blinks to focus.

“I like trailing my lips over your cock, feeling it twitch for me. Shawn, use your fingertips. Nice and light.”

His face scrunches as he obeys. It’s torturously gentle, just like her. He sighs heavily into the phone.

“Is your pussy wet?”

“Mhmm. You know I always get wet sucking you.”

He groans again, louder. “Shit, Val.”

“My tongue is warm on your shaft, sweeping up the vein on the underside. Getting you nice and wet before I take you down my throat.”

Shawn grips himself tighter and starts stroking leisurely. His abs tense and release.

“I know you like it when I suck on the tip, flick at it with my tongue,” she hisses, spreading her legs and toying with her clit.

“I do,” he groans, “Love your mouth on me, fuck.”

Val grins, smoothing her fingers over her wet lips, rubbing faster at her hard button of nerves. Shawn hears the change in her breath.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Vally, please?”

“I’m rubbing my clit just like you do,” she breathes, “Fast and hard like when you want me to come on your fingers.”

Shawn’s jaw drops. His eyes snap shut. His hips thrust up toward his clenched fist. “You get so tight and wet for me, Vally.”

“Mmmm,” she hums, “Wet like my mouth on your cock. I wanna feel you in my throat. Fuck your fist and pretend it’s my mouth.”

“Oh Jesus, Val.”

Shawn tightens his hand and plants his feet, swinging his hips up to meet the thrusts of his fist like she told him. It’s not her, but it’s enough for now.

“Baby,” he whimpers, “Imagine my fingers are inside you. Pulsing in and out like you showed me. Pressing up on your g-spot.”

Val’s chest gives a rumbling moan. Her own fingers do the trick well enough. They’re both on the brink of coming.

“Come in my mouth, Shawn,” Val pants, feeling her walls flutter around her fingers.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn chants, releasing onto his chest with a gasp of her name.

“So good,” she chokes, coming on her fingers right alongside him, rolling her hips.

They fall silent soon enough. Shawn blinks slowly and reaches for tissues.

“I’ll be home so soon, baby.”

Val smiles, resting her hand on her stomach. “Counting the seconds, papi.”

Val bounces Alice so fast she starts to cry.

A little horrified at her own absent-mindedness, Val hushes her, whispering sweet words in Spanish and starts swaying back and forth instead until Alice quiets and continues tugging at Val’s hair.

Shawn’s flight was late leaving JFK. Never has Val wished so hard for the existence of the Concorde. Tiny Parent Trap-era Lindsay Lohan’s voice mocks her in her head --

“Did you know the Concorde gets you here in half the time?”

Val wrinkles her nose in annoyance. What did they really need the Concorde for, anyway? To make a dramatic entrance? Whatever. Val hasn’t seen the love of her life in almost two months. And she’s a single mom with a small baby, so she really should get the Concorde. And--

Val’s ranting thought distraction works. She doesn’t see Shawn when he comes down the escalator, but he sees them. He’s grinning ear to ear, backpack over his shoulder, suitcase beside him. He hustles around groups of passengers milling about, politely excusing himself, dodging, bobbing, weaving. Val has the pram and baby so she can’t do much about meeting him halfway. She has to wait for him to reach her.

Shawn’s brow unfurrows. He drops his hold on his suitcase and slings the backpack to his feet. He throws his arms around his girls and feels everything fall back into place.

“Jesus, I missed you guys,” Shawn whispers, voice thick and throaty. When he pulls away to cup Val’s cheeks, she’s never looked happier.

“We missed you, papi.”

Shawn’s kiss is firm but controlled. His lip ring tickles her as he smiles into it, humming peacefully. She nips at him to make him chuckle, vibrating her lips.

“God, ok,” he murmurs, pulling away, reaching for Alice, “Come here, you.”

Alice bounces in his arms, looking completely overjoyed to have her best friend back. She slaps at his lips and then lets him kiss her plump baby cheeks. He rocks her back and forth, tickles her sides to make her squirm and apparently to make Val’s heart explode in her chest because that’s what it’s doing.

Shawn has the baby in one arm and the suitcase in the other. Val pushes the pram toward the doors, wondering where they can get a cab.

As they stroll, she looks down and murmurs, “We’re gonna need a new pram.”

“I know, she’s gotten huge!” Shawn laughs, squeezing one of Alice’s beefy little legs. She kicks at him with a toothy smile.

“Well, yeah,” Val admits, “And we should probably get one of those big ones that has two seats.”

Shawn keeps walking beside her for about two seconds before he stops. Val turns slowly.

His eyes are wide. His mouth is open. Color rises into his cheeks. He tries to swallow and makes a choking noise.

“Are you-- I’m… Val?”

“I’m pregnant, papi.”

Shawn’s mouth snaps shut. His lower lip quivers. Val walks towards him, taking his hand.

“It’s really early. Just over six weeks. With my history, it’s a lot to be excited about so soon. But we have an appointment with my OB, the one that helped me with Alice. It’s next week.”

She’s sure none of that registered to Shawn. He’s still gaping at her, his eyes filling.

“We’re having a baby?”

Val lets her eyes drift shut. A million memories -- heat drenched, sweaty days on tour, ten years of growth, a chance meeting in her favorite park -- flicker past. She opens her eyes.

“We’re having a baby.”

Shawn hiccups a sob and jerks forward, slipping his fingers into her hair to anchor himself against her lips. Their kiss is a little wet from both their tears, and Alice isn’t keen to be left out of the loop, but this moment is all theirs.

When they’re done kissing, Val rests her head against his chest and lets him just hold them. Beside the doors to the international arrivals terminal at Heathrow, they’re a long way from Warped Tour. The thought makes Val smile.

“What?” Shawn hums, wearing a goofy grin of his own. She lifts her head.

“Do they make those headphones even tinier?”

Shawn grins and kisses her again.

---------

You guys!!! Thank you for your awesome feedback on this fun little series. I’ve been thinking about it p much since I wrote the original epilogue and I feel great about the ending. If you loved it, consider buying me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @embracehappy @peacedolantwins2 @kitykatnumber

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes au #dad!shawn #punk!shawn #warped tour shawn #shawn peter raul mendes

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tessatechaitea · 5 years ago

Text

Scarab #8

Scarab fucking Eleanor.

It's hard to admit that I believe a toilet paper commercial was written better than this psycho-blather.

John Smith may have over-corrected on the balancing act between Vertigo phrasing and techno-gobbledygook used to explain plot advancements. When the Vertigo phrasing is used simply to show a character is fucking weird so it says stuff like, "Ergonomic celestial tampons bloated from the cosmic rays to staunch a black hole," you can let it go. But when it's used to explain what the fuck is happening, it just becomes another shitty episode of Star Trek. Although "Ergonomic celestial tampons bloated from the cosmic rays to staunch a black hole" makes for better plot explanation than "Agnostic angels of the quantum mesh safeguarding the integrity of the world-mind." Just as Scarab begins suspecting these two guys aren't what they seem (although what they are seeming to be is too confusing for me to even bother with contemplating that it's an obfuscation of their true selves), Eleanor begins to wake and he flies off to make sure he doesn't help out at all. Maybe everything that has gone wrong so far is because of Scarab's blue balls. It'll all right itself when he and Eleanor finally fuck (as depicted, grossly, on the cover).

Is he suggesting these feelings are similar? I'm going to throw up now.

Eleanor has transformed into some sort of ectoplasmic vagina which must be what Louis is into because he rushes into her room naked.

That's what a vagina looks like, right?

I'd really like to say that the last few pages of the series are just Louis fucking that thing. But even non-Comics Code Authority approved Vertigo probably couldn't get away with that! Also, the rabbit wasn't around to witness it, so it wouldn't fit the title.

Okay, so he's fucking it on panel. But I wasn't wrong! This doesn't continue until the end of the comic book! Also, Harvest was definitely meant to be vampire Tim Drake from the future!

I just scanned three panels in relatively quick succession so I'm going to pass on the panel I really wanted to scan: another raccoon! Scot Eaton is quickly becoming my favorite artist from the 90s! While the entire world begins its end in Iceland, Louis and Eleanor fuck. They fuck and they fuck and they fuck. And it's fucking gross. I can't believe my caption on the cover was correct. It was supposed to be a joke, John Smith! A FUCKING JOKE! I did not want to see Scarab fuck his greasy ectoplasmic bubbling oil slick of a lover! While Scarab and Eleanor fuck, the rabbit goes mad, Bobby Dazzler dies, and the portly guy with the hands for wings passes out. When he awakens, the chrono-storm has subsided and their sea horse drones begin to fix the collective unconscious of everybody in Reykjavik to make it seem like nothing happened. Much like the rest of this comic book. The Cosmic Plumbers were from the Labyrinth (which they called the Gyre) which is why Scarab sort of recognized them. So I guess the Labyrinth is sort of like where The Endless live but for Time Soldiers? Eleanor tells Scarab that he's the Minotaur, so I guess he's the main Time Soldier. He just doesn't know it yet. And he never will because this series never went any further than eight issues. Scarab #8 Rating: C-. Scarab achieved nothing in this series. He merely sat around waiting for Eleanor to get better and she eventually did. Then they fucked. The end!

#Scarab #DC Comics #DC #Vertigo #John Smith #Scot Eaton

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loudsuitlover · 7 years ago

Text

Moving in

A/N: Hi guys! I’m so excited about this series! It’s starting right now and I have so many ideas I’m driving myself crazy with excitement! Hope you want to read more as much as I want to write it! <3

“I will call you, mom.” You pressed your shoulder against your ear as you waited for the elevator. “Just take care of yourself and don’t get into trouble.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, you’re just like your father.” She sighed.

“Yeah, yeah.” You looked up at the door numbers. 10th floor door 11B. “Bye, mom. Love you.”

You wiped the sweat from your forehead before you rang the bell. You couldn’t remember a single day hotter than this one. You dropped your baggage and the cardboard box you had been carrying around on the carpet floor as you concentrated on listening to the steps nearing the door. The bus ride had been terrible and the sweat, if wiped from your forehead, was still clinging to your skin under your t-shirt. You couldn’t wait to jump in the shower.

You were adjusting the bobby pin on your bun when a very tall, very unfamiliar man opened the door to what you hoped to be Sean’s apartment. You frowned as you thoughtlessly looked him up and down. He was wearing a black cotton t-shirt and what could be described as purple suit pants. You had never seen someone looked so good in something so weird in your entire life and you only realized you were staring when he cleared his throat.

“Hi.” You said. “This is 53 Malborn street, apartment 11B isn’t it?”

He pointed up at the silver numbers on top of the door which caused your eyes to check again. 11B.

“Hhmm... How can I help you?” He was British.

He was British and he had very bright green eyes, a big mouth with beautiful smile potential and light stubble around his pink lips.

“Does Sean live here?”

“Yes, he does.” He smiled. “You’re not a cute stalker, are you?” He smirked smugly as he leaned his side on the doorframe, crossing his arms against his chest and causing you to narrow your eyes at him, unamused.

“Didn’t he tell you I was coming? I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Hey, doll, you’re the one who knocked on my door. I think I get to ask that first.”

“Don’t doll me, you don’t even know me.” You frowned. What a jerk. “I’m Y/N, a friend of Sean. I rented the free room?”

“Oh, right! You’re Y/N!” He then smiled, letting you see all of his white teeth. “He did mention you, yeah, but he said you’d arrive next week?” He frowned.

“Yeah, but... He knew I was coming sooner. We talked on the phone a couple days ago.”

“Well, he didn’t mention that last part.” He shrugged. “But, yeah, sure, yeah, come on in.”

He didn’t help you with your luggage, not that you expected him too, so you took everything and walked through the door he had left opened as he had walked inside.

“I’m sorry for not letting you in sooner but I thought you were a homeless person.” He chuckled as he placed a glass of orange juice in front of a blonde little girl who was sitting on the wooden table. “Lux say hi to the sweaty lady.” He smirked, making you blush hard.

The truth was he had noticed you were sweaty only when his eyes had roamed your body up and down as you bent down to placed that shabby cardboard box you were carrying. He couldn’t have helped but stare at your ass and the way it looked in those jeans and his mind had made him think about how you would look coated in a thin layer of sweat, with no clothes on, after an orgasm. It had been so long since he had been with a woman...

“Hi lady.” The little girl said as she kept drawing on her colouring book and the boy laughed at your blushed cheeks.

“I’m Harry by the way.” He smirked.

“Right.” You placed a hand on your hip, the other one on your forehead as you sighed. “I... I need a shower.”

“You think?” He smirked, covering his nose with his fingers as he gave you a disgusted grimace.

“Very funny.”

“I’ll take you in the shower.” He smirked. “I mean- to the shower.”

After having left your things on the room that was going to be yours for the next few months- according to him- Harry did show you the way towards the bathroom, switching the light on as he showed you around as if you had never seen a bathroom in your life before.

“I reckon Lux’s entertained” He smirked “so I can stay with you, doll.”

“Yeah, right.” You faked a chuckle. “You wish.”

You walked past him, pretending his words hadn’t had an effect on you, but your cheeks were blushing and your belly had chirped. Yes he was a jerk, a cocky player who probably gave a hard time to every single girl he met, but he was also the most attractive man you had ever seen and those purple pants of his... Well they looked good and he smelled deliciously too.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

He smirked as he stared at your ass again and the way your white t-shirt was sticking to your skin as some rebel hairs had fallen from your otherwise tight bun.

“So first you think I’m homeless and now you want to see me naked. Interesting.”

“Well, those clothes make it hard to think otherwise.”

You didn’t know whether he meant your clothes made him want to see you naked or if he meant they made you look like a homeless girl but either way what a proper dick so you shook your head and tried to ignore him as you placed your toiletries on the shower. You had been travelling for a little over a month now so you had already some sort of ritual, an organised way of preparing your toiletries for the shower in hostels so they wouldn’t get soaked but still were close enough for you to reach them.

“There are fresh towels there.”

He pointed to the top part of a blue closet on the hall with a smirk on his lips and you death glared at him as you walked past him, knowing it was too high for you to reach anyway. You still tried though, standing on your tip toes before you started jumping, trying to reach for a towel as he chuckled.

“Enjoying the show?” You asked.

“A lot.” He chuckled.

“Can you please stop being obnoxious and help me get a fucking towel?”

“Oh, watch your mouth, doll. We don’t want Lux saying those things.”

“Fine, don’t help me. Care to remind me why I’m talking to you?”

“Because I’m the only one who can show you around the house?”

“You’re not much help anyway.”

You crossed your arms across your chest and turned your back on the closet, death glaring at him as he walked towards you, standing in front of you and easly reaching for a towel which he then held on top of both your heads, a stupid smirk on his lips as you tried to reach it once, fast enough so he wouldn’t react, but he moved it up higher and you rolled your eyes as he laughed.

“Just joking, doll.” He smiled, handing you the towel. “Sean said to be nice to you.”

“Did he?” You frowned as if he was kidding you. “What else did he say that you’re not going to do?”

“Not to bother you and not to annoy you, which I guess it’s pretty much the same request.”

“Well you do bother and annoy me so you’re not making a really good job.”

“And you’ve only known me for like what? Fifteen minutes? And I already bothered and annoyed you huh?” He smiled, leaning closer to you and trapping you against the closet. What was his deal?

“Well I guess you have a talent.”

“I have many talents.” He smiled, placing his hand on the closet besides your head as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re obnoxious.”

“You already said that.” He smiled. “You know? Sean didn’t say you were so attractive.”

You shook your head, walking away from him and towards the shower and closing the bathroom door without looking up at him. You heard him approached the door as you were taking your clothes off though.

“Are you sure you don’t need help showering?” You might now know this Harry guy but you knew he was smirking.

“Fuck off.”

With that he laughed and walked away. You let the cold water both refreshened and soothed you as the excitement at the thought of seeing Sean again nibbled on your belly. It had been almost two months. You washed your hair, thinking back at the time you met him, back in the mental home when you visited your dad. He was playing the guitar on the porch the first time you saw him and it was only a couple weeks after when you had surprised him having a nice chat with your dad on the mental home garden. Ever since then you would visit the two of them really and Sean had become a rather good friend, understanding your dad’s situation almost perfectly and supporting you when he was healthy enough to do so. So the anticipation of seeing him again, hearing how he was doing, seeing him surely better than last time... It was eating you alive.

The little girl was gone by the time you made your way to the living room and a nice scent of some spicy meat and vegetables filled your nostrils. Harry was cooking, a white tea towel over his shoulder as he moved around the kitchen singing under his breath to Africa by Toto.

“Where’s Lux?”

He smiled looking into your eyes as you dried your hair on the kitchen door.

“Her mum picked her up ages ago.” He smiled. “You’ve taken so long in the shower. I thought you had died.”

“And it doesn’t occur to you to go check.” You raised your eyebrows, walking towards the laundry room he had shown you before.

“Are you inviting me to check you out while you are on the shower?” He raised his voice so you would hear him.

“To check on me, not to check me out.” You rolled your eyes.

“Tomayto, tomahto.” He shrugged. “Sean’s not coming over for dinner but it’s burrito night.” He did a little dance, almost looking cute, except you already knew he was the jerk type. “I hope you like burritos?” He looked at you, seeming concerned and you nodded your head.

You looked at him with a confused frown. Was he really the same guy that didn’t want to give you a towel just minutes ago? And now he was just making burritos for dinner and counting on you at that, as if it was official that you were roommates. He sure had been a jerk before but... He seemed to silently be trying to fix it? So you bit your bottom lip and thought about your mum’s words; try not to judge people and they’d surprised you more than once.

“Has anyone ever say no to that?” You frowned, amused, trying to silently let him know that you were up for another start.

“You’d be surprised.” He chuckled.

“How can I help you?”

He looked at you and smiled, pursing his lips as if he was thinking whilst September by Earth Wind and Fire came out of his phone. He hummed as if in thought.

“You can dance around.” He suggested. “Entertain me.” He smirked.

“I won’t do that.” You closed your eyes. There he was, the jerk again. “I mean with dinner, what can I do?”

“I don’t know if you’re a good cook or not.” He looked you up and down “And burrito night is no joke so I won’t risk ruining it... And since you don’t know where anything is... Just take a seat and tell me about you, yeah?”

“You want me to tell you about me?” You sat down on a stool frowning confused and he chuckled.

“You look surprised. Not many people want to know about you?”

“No, it’s not that. What is that supposed to mean? It’s just most people don’t annoy someone to death and then ask them about their lives.”

“Well, how excentric can I be right?” He smirked smugly. “Wanting to know about the person who’s gonna be living with me for Lord knows how long and all.” He sarcastically remarked.

“So you live here too?”

“No, I’m casually making dinner at somebody else’s house. I do that a lot.”

You chuckled at that and he glanced at you with a big grin. Was that a laugh? He grabbed a glass from one of the cupboards, pointing at it and looking at you as if you were a little kid as if saying this is where the glasses are and then he poured some cold water on it, placing it in front of you before he turned and walked towards his phone and changed the music.

“Do you like Pink Floyd?”

“You ask very silly questions.” You smiled and he grinned as he nodded, moving back to his place so he could resume cooking.

“So where are you from?” He asked.

“Chicago.” You smiled.

“Mmhmm. Beautiful.” He smiled. “And what do you do?”

“I’m... I’m a Medical student.”

“Wow, you’re a smartass.”

“Don’t look so surprised.” You frowned and he chuckled.

“It’s not that.” He smiled. “I just didn’t know that. Do you want a beer?”

“Yeah, please.”

“A doctor who drinks beer on a school night.. It takes one to know one.” He joked and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

And then he didn’t seem so bad after all. He was smiling, opening your beer for you and seemed to actually enjoy your company. You gave him a crooked smile. You wanted to say something, about how you hadn’t started really nice but how much you’d love, for some reason, to be friends with him but instead you licked your lips, holding the beer bottle with both hands before you brought it to your lips and then he couldn’t take his eyes off of your mouth because of course he had thought you were sexy before, but then you drank beer and there was only so much he could take...

He looked away and coughed and he closed his eyes as he gave you his back whilst he took the chicken out of the fire. He had been talking to Gem right before you came out of the bathroom and he had promised he’d bring her those flowers she liked the next day but her voice had sounded so low and so weak he had wanted to crawl into a ball and cry. So he kept asking you about random things so he didn’t have to think about her and it surprised him that you actually managed to take his mind away from things with your voice, which for some reason sounded as if he could trust it, even though he didn’t know why he would think such a creepy thing.

“I used to work in a Deli at home.” You confessed and he looked at you with a grin. “I know.” You shook your head and he allowed himself to laugh.

“What about your family?” He asked.

“Mmm... I’m an only child.” You nodded. “So my best friend Kayla is like... The closest thing to a sister I have. My parents are not together but it’s cool like we’re a cool family.”

“Did you just say you’re a cool family?” He teased.

“I mean like they don’t fight or anything. They’re like friends. Kind of.” You laughed.

“You have a beautiful laughter.” He noted. “Should probably use it more.”

“You should be funnier then.” You smiled sheepishly.

“Touche.” He sat down opposite you, placing your plate in front of you, as he granted you with a smile. “If it’s not delicious, don’t say anything. I’m a very sensitive cook. You’d hurt my feelings.” He smirked and you laughed again.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“You actually aren’t as much of a dick as I thought you were.”

He laughed as you had a bite of your burrito.

“Why? Because I haven’t teased you in like two minutes?” He watched you eat with a big grin on his face as you devoured half the burrito in a second. “Someone’s hungry.”

“I haven’t had a homemade meal in a month.” You said through a full mouth which he found adorable. “And I’m absolutely not as good of a cook as you are. This is delicious.”

“We take burritos seriously in this house.”

“Noted.” You smiled. “What about you? I feel like I’ve been talking so much about me and I know nothing about you.”

You looked into his eyes and he gave you a small smile before he looked down at his plate. You hadn’t studied Medical Psycology for nothing and putting it to good use, you realized he didn’t want to talk about it and as much as you now wanted to know why, you also didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. You were actually enjoying hanging out with him and you didn’t want him to turn into the cocky dick he had been before, even though he might have turned you on a little, but just a little and he annoyed you a lot more.

He had a sip of his glass of water, still debating whether to tell you or not. He could easily say he didn’t want to talk about it, he could closed off as always and never let you in but he was afraid if he did that, then you would close off to him as well and for some reason he wanted to know more about you. He liked your stories.

“My parents split when I was 7-”

“You don’t have to tell me.” You cut him off as you noticed how tense he had become. “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

He smiled, like genuinely smiled, and he felt his cheeks tinging pink for he had never met a girl who respected his privacy like that. It wasn’t as if you didn’t care- nor like you cared either, you had just met him after all- but he felt as if you would listen if he wanted to tell you or talk about something else if he didn’t feel like talking about it and that had made him want to cook burritos for you for as long as you’d want to.

“Thank you.” He smiled and so did you, before eating again.

Both of you kept chuckling every time your eyes would meet for your mouths were fulled and your bellies were getting fulled too and somehow it felt as if you knew each other even if it wasn’t true. You had been a mess. You had made a proper mess of your burrito and you had sauce all over your lips and had used at least three napkins, which he found cute and funny at the same time.

“Geez” You laughed “at least now I know I shall never eat burritos on a date.”

“A date?” He smirked. “I hadn’t realized we were on a date.”

“We’re not.” You frowned, blushing.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Because you’re an idiot.” You smirked causing him to laugh as you started clearing the table.

You started working on a weird silence and it was weird because if was comfortable and you didn’t know each other at all, he only knew your parents were not together and that you were an only child and you only knew that his parents had split when he was 7-

“Wanna watch a movie?”

He didn’t want you to go to bed yet or rather he didn’t want to be left alone yet for the thought of being alone terrified him. He would start thinking about her. He would start crying and he would cry for a week.

“Sure.” You shrugged.

His eyes lingered on you for a couple of seconds before he shook his head and walked towards the living room, getting Netflix on as you took a seat on the green armchair nobody ever sat on. He kept stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye and biting back a smirk, scrolling through Netflix and trying to catch some reaction of yours which indicated some sort of interest in the movie and he pressed ok the moment he saw your eyebrows raised.

“Are we watching Lilo and Stitch?” You grinned.

What? Did you raise your brows to Lilo and Stich? But then you had smiled and your face had light up so yeah, he guessed you’d be watching Lilo.

“Unless you don’t want to?” He teased with a smirk.

“Oh, yeah, I do! I love it! I just didn’t think of you as the guy who’d watch Lilo and Stitch on a Sunday night.”

“And why’s that?”

You chuckled and shook your head, causing him to grin as he rested his back on the couch, snuggling on the pillows to watch the movie. He’d never admit it, but he actually enjoyed it, especially the end so when the movie ended, and the catchy song from the credits was playing, he turned around and found you peacefully asleep so he shook his head with a smile.

“She makes me watch Lilo and Stich and falls asleep...” He muttered under his breath as he walked towards you. “Hey, doll.” He gently shook your arm.

You woke up with a frown and a pout and he grinned, his dimples out, for he had never really seen something so adorable in a grown woman and then he waved his hand in front of you, whispering a low hi.

“Hi.” You groaned back with a raspy voice and a frown.

“Come on you, sleepy head, get to bed.”

“I haven’t made the bed.” You whispered, stretching and giving him your back. He chuckled.

“What? It’s made, Y/N.” He laughed. “Do I have to carry you or what?”

“No.” You frowned, getting up and clumsily climbing the stairs, faintly hearing his laughter behind you.

He stayed downstairs for a little longer finishing up cleaning the kitchen and he didn’t notice but he couldn’t stop smiling. Up in your room, you had brushed your teeth and were now getting to bed, but you were not as sleepy anymore as every time you moved from the couch to your bed when you had fallen asleep watching TV. That fact annoyed you deeply, it had happened since you were a child and it had kept you awake sometimes for hours when your mom was already snoring. Downstairs, the main door opened slowly and in came a very tired looking Sean, carrying his guitar. He spotted the light on the kitchen and smiled when he found his school friend keeping glasses on the cupboards at 12 am.

“Hey” He whispered “what’s with the smile?” He teased, grinning himself.

Harry only shook his head.

“I take it the gig was good?” He whispered back. “Coming home at his ungodly hour...” He teased, but really he couldn’t be happier his friend was seeming to get back on his feet.

“Yeah, it was really good but I couldn’t wait to be back since you texted me she was here already.” He grinned as they both walked up the stairs and you smiled when you heard Sean’s low voice pretty close to your door. “How is she? Was it okay? You didn’t annoy her did you?”

“She’s great, yeah.” Your heart started beating faster when you heard Harry’s words about you. “We had dinner and then watch Lilo and Stitch.” He grinned, amused.

“What?” Sean laughed.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “Oh, she said tomorrow you were taking her to Uni so she would know her way around it?”

“Oh, fuck. I had forgotten about that.” Sean ran his hand through his hair. “I have this meeting with Stuart I-”

“It’s okay, mate.” Harry said, placing his hand on his shoulder. He didn’t know if he’d be able to react properly if his friend got his anxiety back. “I’ll take her, yeah? Don’t worry about it.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“But... Are you sure you... I mean you’d be back there.” He whispered.

“That’s okay.” Harry reassured him.

“Okay, thank you, man. Means a lot.”

“Sure.”

He smiled and walked towards the end of the hall where his room was as Sean started walking towards the other end and you, right there in the room in the middle, looked up at the ceiling with a frown and tries to decipher what they were talking about. Something must have happened to Harry at Uni. And who the hell was Stuart?

“Just Harry” Sean called “I know I don’t need to say this but.. We both know how it is so... Needless to say try not to have her falling for you.”

“You say that as if I was some sort of women collector.” You could hear Harry’s harsh words, as if he was annoyed. “You know I don’t have the time or the energy for that right now so... Plus, I’d never do that to you.”

Sean nodded, but that part you couldn’t see, and then he just turned around and closed the door of his room behind him. Harry did the same, after a few seconds staring at your ajar door. She is asleep, she hadn’t heard. And then he closed the door of his room behind him and rested his head on the wood. If everything he had said was true- and he didn’t have the time nor the energy, and he would never do that to Sean- why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way you had laughed when he had suggested he would watch Lilo and Stitch by choice?

Man, he was fucked.

535 notes · View notes

crashdevlin · 6 years ago

Text

Marion-4: Be Mine

Marion Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version). This started as an excuse to write some Castiel/OFC loving, but it blossomed into an epic-length fic and even an AU where Marion was with them the whole time.

Summary: Dean’s being a dick, Marion’s been touched by famine for a certain blue-eyed angel.

Pairing(s): Castiel/Marion Winchester (just pining)

Word Count: 5169

Chapter Warnings: angst, feelings of worthlessness, pining for an angel

Marion stood in the salvage yard with her brothers and Castiel. She pulled her pants up by the belt loops and wished that Castiel had taken her with him, or at least asked her size, before flying off to get some clothes for her. The light blue v-neck tee seemed to fit perfectly but the jeans were a size too big. Marion pulled her ponytail holder tighter to her head, her long hair pulled out of her face but hanging heavily down her back, and stared expectantly at the men in front of her. “Make a fist.” Dean ordered, just as Marion was about to open her mouth to ask what they were doing. She rolled her fingers down and locked her thumb over them. “Punch Castiel.” “What?! I can’t do that!” Marion's eyes widened at the idea. “He’s an angel, Mare. You can’t hurt him. Punch the damn angel.” Dean instructed.

“Isn’t this blasphemy? Won’t I go to Hell for this?” “He’s fallen. Heaven doesn’t care! Just punch him!” Dean shouted. Marion took a quick breath and let her right fist fly to the angel’s jaw. “Which knuckles hurt?” Marion rubbed the knuckles on her first and middle fingers. “These two.” “Perfect! Try it with the left hand.” Sam encouraged. Marion turned worried green eyes onto Castiel, who just nodded. Marion let her fist fly and winced as she came in contact with the angel’s nose. Sam smiled, softly. “Your knuckles will harden, eventually. I-” “Kick him.” Dean interrupted Sam's encouragement to continue the training. Marion started to lift her right leg straight in front of her, but Dean shook his head. “A real kick! This isn’t ballet, Mare. Kick him right. Like Dad taught me.” Marion’s lips tightened in anger, as she threw her leg out to the side to come in contact with Castiel’s stomach, making him sway a bit. “That’s good enough for now. This is a shotgun, obviously. We use it, mostly, for salt rounds to take down ghosts, but demons don‘t like salt, either.” Dean said, tossing a sawed-off at her. Marion grabbed it from the air, then placed it on the ground. “Why are you acting this way, Dean?” She questioned. “What way?” Dean bit out. Marion looked at Sam who nodded, slightly. “You’re acting like Dad.” Marion said, confidently. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” Dean was glaring as Marion squared her shoulders. “Yes, it is. You’re being cold and rude. You haven’t said a single encouraging word since we’ve been out here. So, yeah, it’s an insult.” Marion said, losing some of her steam toward the end of her response. Dean leaned over to pick up the shotgun at her feet. “Well, lucky for you, I don’t hear it that way. Dad did what he had to, to keep Sam and me safe.” He shoved the shotgun back into her hands. “I’m just doing the same for you.” Marion immediately handed the shotgun to Sam. “I refuse to do this with you if you’re going to act this way. If you want to apologize and treat me like your sister and not a soldier, I’ll be in the library.” Marion stopped in front of Dean and quickly shot her leg out straight in front of her, coming in contact with Dean’s groin. As he doubled over, she walked back toward the house. “And that is a real kick.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Marion sat at Bobby’s desk with a pile of books in front of her. She’d pulled down the first 10 tomes in English that she’d found and she was pouring over them, one at a time. She’d heard the Impala’s engine fire up about 10 minutes after she came inside and Sam had walked in not long after. Marion heard whispers in the kitchen between Bobby and Sam, but neither had come to talk to her. Strange, how the ‘emotionless’ angel made her feel more welcome than anyone else. Marion shook those thoughts away and continued reading. “Enjoyin’ my readin’ selection?” Bobby asked as he wheeled up in front of the desk. She looked up and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been reading the same 20 books since I was 17. Well, not quite, but you know what I mean... and there’s a lot in these books. Knowledge that Dean couldn’t pass to me because he’s never read them.” Bobby chuckled. “Only time that boy opens a book is when Sam’s life depends on it… or if he thinks it might have nude drawings.” Marion smiled politely, wanting to turn back to the book in front of her but not wanting to be rude. Bobby seemed a bit uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. “So, uh, I heard Dean went a little… John on ya.” Marion closed the text in front of her. “I know what my dad was like with them, Bobby. He was less a father and more a General. Dean doesn’t get to be that. Not with me.” “Oh, I understand. John being that way is exactly what drove Sam away from him. Dean should know better.” Bobby said, rolling over to a drawer and pulling out a pistol. “What do ya say, I teach ya how to shoot?” Marion smiled, trying to hold back her excitement. “Are you sure?” Bobby handed her the pistol. “Yeah. You may not have spent your childhood here like the boys, but you’re John’s kid. Besides, I haven’t been out much since I’ve been in this damned chair. You’d be doin’ me a favor.” Her smile widened. “Thank you, Bobby. I’d really like that. Where should we go to practice?” “Somewhere with a ramp. There’s a place in Salt Lake I know. You think the angel would take us?” “I’ll ask him.” She said, folding her hands and closing her eyes. “Of course, I’ll take you.” Castiel said, appearing behind Bobby with a flutter of wings before she was able to finish her prayer. “Thank you, Castiel. I really appreciate this.” Marion stood and handed the pistol back to Bobby. “Ammo?” “All over the place, but closest is the bottom drawer.” Bobby answered. Marion grabbed a box of ammunition from the drawer and stood. “Ready!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dean sat on Bobby’s couch with a beer in his hand. It seemed mostly forgotten. He couldn't stop thinking about what Marion had said. She'd said that she wasn’t a soldier. She knew. She knew that he’d been to the future. She knew that he’d been the General of a group of soldiers in the aftermath of the Apocalypse. She knew that Sam had said yes… and that she hadn’t been there. He couldn’t figure out if she’d reminded him of Lucifer (wearing Sam) standing over Dean’s corpse on purpose, or if it had just been his guilty conscience that made him cling to that image. He looked up as Castiel arrived with Marion and Bobby. “Where’ve you been?” He demanded, roughly. Marion glared and looked away from him. “Thank you for teaching me, Bobby.” She said, ignoring Dean's question. “Any time, Marion.” Bobby responded, putting the gun back in the desk. “Wait, Mare.” Dean called, standing and walking over to his sister. “I was a dick. I’m not your C.O. I’m your brother. I’m sorry.” Marion smiled, warmly. That's all she wanted. “I forgive you. You were just trying to emulate Dad. But… with your memories of combat, I have a pretty good handle on fighting and I hit the target every time… even hit the 10 spot twice. You don’t have to worry about me, Dean, and you don’t have to be a dick just because that’s the only way Dad could show his worry for you.” Dean wrapped his arms around his sister and pressed his lips against her forehead. “Thanks for understanding.” She chuckled. “I’ve got twenty-seven years of you in my head, Dean. I doubt anyone understands you as well as I do.” “Come on, break it up. I ain’t havin’ this Lifetime Movie shit in my house.” Bobby bellowed, but his smile betrayed him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I’m glad you two are getting along again, ‘cause I think I’ve got a case.” Sam said, setting his laptop down in front of Dean. “Does this really say they ate each other?” Dean asked, a look of disgust spreading across his face. “Ate each other?” Marion asked, turning the laptop to where she could see it. “How would they even… I don’t… wouldn’t they be in too much pain? How?” “Definitely not natural.” Sam responded, taking his laptop back. “So, what could cause two people to do that? Witches?” Marion asked, trying to focus on something other than the images that rolled through her head. “Maybe. It’d have to be some pretty strong mojo. Nothin’ I’ve ever seen before.” Bobby said. “So, what are you doing standin’ around here? Get yer shit and get out.” Dean walked over to his duffel and picked up the strap. “Hey, Bobby. Do you mind-?” “Don’t you dare, Dean. I’m coming with you. I’m a good shot and not too bad at hand to hand. Please don’t leave me behind.” Marion said, grabbing the strap of the duffel from Dean’s hand. Dean looked to the room for help, but Bobby looked away and Sam just shook his head. “Fine. You can come. But don’t complain if this one turns out nasty.” “Dean, I remember you stumbling into skin walker sheddings. I can handle… cannibals.” She insisted. “Whatever. It’s your choice. We’re gonna have to get you a fed suit… and a badge. Are you sure you don’t want to sit this one out and get everything together with Bobby?” Dean offered. “I’ll get a badge made for her and overnight it to ya. You can stop at a department store on the way out there. Text me an address to send the badge to when you get there.” Bobby said. Marion smiled brightly and headed out to the car. “Am I wrong to be worried about this?” Dean asked. “She’ll roll with it, Dean. Can’t leave her at Bobby’s house forever. I mean, you don’t want to be without her, right?” Sam said, patting Dean’s shoulder. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Marion was laying on the hood of the Impala, staring up at the stars in a cloudless night sky, an Eagles song playing softly on the car stereo. There was a sound of gravel shifting as Castiel stepped onto the shoulder of the road to stand next to the front of the car. Marion sat up and smiled softly at Cas. “Ya know, I think it’s been months since I had a dream that didn’t have an appearance from an angel.” “I could leave.” Castiel said, with a completely straight face. “No!” Marion exclaimed, grabbing Castiel’s hand. “I mean, you are welcome here. I think I might’ve even prayed for you to come. If I’m going to have an angel invade, might as well be the angel who I like.” Castiel gave a small smile and then sat down next to her. “I don’t recognize this song.” “It’s, um, ‘Lyin’ Eyes’ by The Eagles. Dean’s not really an Eagles kinda guy so, you wouldn’t have heard it. But this is my dream, so I can play whatever I want on his Baby’s radio.” There was a sound of the stereo changing stations and then, it settled on a country song. “When I lived with the Cornwells, I listened to a lot of country. This is Reba McIntire, she’s my favorite.” Marion closed her eyes and listened to ‘Fancy’ for a few more seconds before the station shifted again and ‘Holy Diver’ started playing. “I’m feeling much fonder of this music now. I didn’t even know who Ronnie James Dio was until I got Dean’s memories.” She looked over to Castiel. “What we did, it’s gonna change me, isn’t it? It’s already starting to.” “It will not change who you are, fundamentally, but… yes, little things, small aspects of your personality will change. I’m sorry. I should have warned you.” “It’s okay. I mean, maybe I’m just getting a shot at being the person I would’ve been if the Cornwells hadn’t taken me… I mean, if I hadn’t died and they hadn’t taken me. I’ll just… go with it.” “You… aren’t upset?” Castiel asked, surprised. Marion shook her head. "Wouldn't make much difference to be mad 'bout it." She looked up at the stars sparkling about them. “Why are you so nice to me?” She asked. “What do you mean?” “Well, I’ve met a grand total of 3 angels. Lucifer mocked me and tried to use me against my brothers. Zachariah threatened me, made me hurt the closest thing I had to a father, but you… you help me. You fill me with calm when I start to panic. You bring me coffee when I haven’t slept well. You were made to be a soldier, just like them, an emotionless servant of God. So, how did you end up so nice?” “I’m not. I’ve done many things just like Zachariah does, followed blind orders. I had no concept of nice until I was charged with watching your brother and preventing the opening of the Seals.” There was a pause. “I suppose I’m nice to you for the same reason Zachariah and Lucifer were antagonistic to you. You are Dean’s twin; this makes you important.” “Oh.” Marion said, looking down and sliding off the hood. “Have I upset you?” Castiel asked, following her off the hood. “No. No, I mean, I should’ve known. I mean, Dean’s the Michael sword. Sam’s… whatever misleadingly weapon-y name you’d call Lucifer’s vessel. I’m just… the twin who should’ve been hit by a truck. I’m… Castiel, I’d like to be alone in my dreamscape for a while.” “Of course.” Castiel said, before disappearing. Marion opened the driver’s side door and sat down. “That was… unpleasant.” A familiar voice said in the back seat. Marion turned to the white-haired woman in the blue floral print dress. “Missus?” “You know, they never told us what we were saving you for… but I was positive there weren’t going to be any boy troubles wherever He needed you. I didn’t prepare you for this.” “For Castiel? I don’t think anything could’ve prepared me for crushing on an angel… an angel who seems to be crushing on my brother.” Marion joked. “I definitely couldn’t prepare for that.” Missus patted Marion’s hand. “All of your social cues come from your brother’s memories. We set you up to fail in the real world. We just never expected you to actually be in the real world.” “Knowing that you’re just a dream, I can say this… Missus Cornwell, you got played. You were convinced, by an angel, to steal a child. I shouldn’t be here, Cornwell. There is no place for me here. The only reason I was saved was to convince Dean to say ‘yes’ to Michael. I refuse to do that so I have no place in the Apocalypse. I am only important in the aspect of being an appendage of Dean Winchester! The one angel I’ve met who doesn’t treat me terribly still sees me as just… Dean: Mark 2!” “He can’t see you as anything else, Marion. He’s an angel. You don’t think he could actually feel anything for you? I know his vessel is attractive and he’s polite and helpful, but there is no chance of you meaning anything to him.” Missus said. Pity filled her voice, but cruelty filled her eyes. Marion glared and pulled her hand away. “I think I’m going to wake up now.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Marion fought her urge to cry as her eyes opened in the back of the Impala. Why was her own mind so cruel to her? “Are we there yet?” Dean looked into the rear view mirror and tossed a protein bar at her. “3 hours out. Bobby called while you were asleep. He had his guy make you a few I.D.s. He’s going to send them to a motel Sam found off the interstate.” Marion nodded and stretched as well as she could. “Awesome.” She looked down at the protein bar, disdainfully. “Any chance we could stop for pie somewhere?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Marion stood in front of the female victim’s door, in her brand new blue pantsuit. She’d opted out of the visit to the morgue with Dean, choosing to cut her teeth on a simple questioning.“You ready?” Sam whispered. Marion nodded, taking a deep breath. Sam knocked on the door and waited. As the brunette woman opened the door, Sam and Marion flashed their badges. “Ma’am. I’m Agent Cliff, this is Agent Wilson. We’d like to talk to you about what happened to your roommate.” Sam said. The roommate nodded and let them in. She was in the process of cleaning and packing. “So… you were the one who found the bodies?” The woman nodded. She looked like she was trying very hard to not think about it. “There was blood everywhere… and… other stuff.” An unmistakable look of disgust crossed her face. “I think Alice was already dead.” “But Russell wasn’t?” Marion asked. “I think he was, mostly, except… he was still sort of… chewing a little.” Sam nodded and made sounds of understanding. Marion attempted to swallow away her disgust. “How do two people even do that… eat each other to death?” Alice’s roommate asked. “I asked the same question.” Marion muttered. “It’s a really good question. Now, the last few days, did you notice her acting erratically?” Sam asked. “How do you mean?” “I mean, did she seem… unusually hostile, aggressive?�� Sam asked. “No way. Alice never drank, never even swore. She was a nice girl. And I’m talking, like, a nice girl. Like, she still had her promise ring, if you know what I mean.” “She was a virgin?” Marion asked, trying not to feel upset that she, too, was a ‘nice girl’. “No premarital. I used to wonder how she did it. I mean, you know, didn’t do it. It was her first date in months. She was so excited.” Sam turned to Marion. “Apparently, they were both pretty excited.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sam walked into their motel room, Marion following behind. “How’d it go?” Dean asked, looking up from the file on his lap and at his siblings. Sam shook his head. “No EMF, no sulfur. Ghost possession and demonic possession are both probably out.” “Hm. That’s where I was putting my money.” Dean said. “Nope.” “I’m still sayin’ witches.” Marion said, flopping down on one of the beds. “It’s too big for witches.” Sam responded, taking off his coat. “Well, then what, then?” Dean asked, rubbing his eyes. “Oh, dude! At the coroner’s… you guys didn’t see these bodies. I mean, these two started eating a-and they just… kept going.” Dean wasn’t even trying to hide his disgust. “I mean, their stomachs were full. Like… like Thanksgiving dinner full. Talk about codependent.” Dean took a drink of his beer and grimaced. Sam sat at the little table and pulled his laptop in front of him. “Well, we got our feelers out. Not much more we can do tonight. All right. I’m just gonna go through some files. Marion is, obviously, catching up on her sleep. You can go ahead and get going.” “Sorry?” “Go ahead. Unleash the kraken. See you tomorrow morning.“ Dean looked confused. “Where am I going?” “Dean, it’s Valentine’s Day. Your favorite holiday, remember? I mean, what do you call it… uh, ‘unattached drifter Christmas’?” Dean nodded, then shrugged. “Oh, yeah. Well, be that as it may… I don’t know. Guess I’m not feeling it this year.” Marion sat up and raised an eyebrow at her twin. “So, you’re not into bars full of lonely women?” “Nah. I guess not.” Dean took a sip of his beer and sighed. “What?” Sam looked over to Marion, then back to Dean. “It’s when a dog doesn’t eat, that’s when you know something’s really wrong.” “Remarkably patronizing concern, duly noted. Nothing’s wrong.” Dean looked between Marion and Sam. “We gonna work or what?” Marion couldn’t help but cast a worried look at Dean. This was so unlike him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next morning, they read about another double suicide and headed to the morgue. As they were heading to the basement, a bald man in a suit walked past. Sam’s eyes followed him, hungrily. “You okay?” Dean asked. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Sam said, as the three of them walked through the door. “Agent Marley, you just can’t stay away.” Dr. Corman, the round gray-haired medical examiner said. “Heard you tagged another double suicide.” Dean responded. “Well, I just finished closing them up.” “Dr. Corman, this is my partner, Special Agent Cliff.” Dean gestured to Sam, then Marion. “And Agent Wilson.” “Agent Cliff. Agent Wilson. I’ve finished my prelims. I pulled the organ sets and sent off the tox samples.” Sam nodded slightly. “Great. You mind if we take a look at the bodies?” “Not at all.” Corman opened the door to refrigerator. “But like I said, their… Good-n-Plenties are already Tupperwared.” “Super.” Sam said, trying to ignore the nasty feeling that jumped into his throat. The doctor threw a key-ring at Dean. “Leave the keys with Marty up front. And please, Lady and Gentlemen, refrigerate after opening.” He said, pulling on his jacket and walking out. Dean smiled and Marion could tell he’d taken a shine to the old M.E. He walked forward and started pulling labeled containers from the fridge and handing them to Sam. As he grabbed the last one and walked over to a metal table, Dean shot a look to their sister. He might have warned her that this case would be gross, and she might have put on a brave face at the time, but the face she wore now said, ‘Dean, please don’t make me do this on my very first case’. “Hey, Mare. I know you’re eager to get elbows-deep in organs, but I’m freakin’ parched. I saw a Coke machine on the way in. you mind grabbing me a soda?” Dean asked, pulling out a few singles from his suit pocket. Marion gave a small sigh of relief and grabbed the bills.” Anything for you, Sam?” When Sam shook his head, Marion walked out, eager to leave. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As Marion approached the door to the morgue, a Coke in one hand and a Dasani water in the other, she heard the unmistakable gravel of Castiel’s voice. “You’re right, Sam. These are angelic marks. I imagine you’ll find similar marks on the other couples, as well.” “So, what are they?” Sam asked. “I mean, what do they mean?” “It’s a mark of union. This man and woman were intended to mate.” As Castiel spoke, Marion’s cheeks flushed and a warmth spread across her body. Marion twisted the top off of her water bottle and drained it, before leaning against the wall in an attempt to catch her breath. She knew what she was feeling; she’d felt a mild form of it during her teen years when the Cornwells had allowed her to watch a show called ‘Saved by the Bell’ and she’d developed a crush on Zach Morris. But this was a million times stronger than the dream-and-hormone fueled arousal she’d felt toward that fictional character. Her brain drowned her brothers’ speaking out but captured every word Castiel spoke like he was wearing a microphone hardwired to her brain. “Well, your people call them ‘Cupid’.” Mumbling from Sam. “What human myth has mistaken for ‘Cupid’ is actually a lower order of angel. Technically, it’s a cherub, third-class.” Incoherence from Dean. “Yeah, they’re all over the world. There are dozens of them.” More mumbling from Dean. Marion took a deep breath and forced her mind to clear. This angel wanted nothing to do with her, he was emotionless and only nice to her because of Dean. Just like Zach Morris, it was useless to pine for him. She came back to the present in time to hear Castiel say, “We have to stop him… before he kills again.” and her brothers agree, incredulously. Marion took one last breath and walked through the door. “So, what’d I miss?” “Nothin’. Just… huntin’ Cupid, now.” Dean said, snatching his soda from her. “Oh. Okay. Sure.” She responded, avoiding looking at Castiel. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The four of them sat in a restaurant that was decorated in pink and red and hearts. Marion was, unfortunately, unable to secure the seat on the end, away from Castiel, so she was analyzing every decoration and sign in the room. The waitress brought a salad for Sam, a burger for Dean, and a chicken piccata over angel hair for Marion, who was thankful for a new distraction. Dean pulled the top bun off his burger and glanced at Castiel. “So, what, you happen to know he likes the cosmos at this place?” Castiel searched the room with his eyes. “This place is a nexus of human reproduction. It’s exactly the kind of-” His searching eyes landed on Dean’s plate. “-of garden the Cupid will come to-to pollinate.” Dean looked at his burger, disinterested, and then pushed the plate slightly. “Wait a minute. You’re not hungry?” Sam asked. This brought Marion’s attention to Dean, as well, pulling her from her thoughts questioning how many layers of clothing Castiel had under that coat. “No.” Dean responded. When Sam and Marion continued to stare, he got louder. “What? I’m not hungry.” “Then, you’re not gonna finish that?” Castiel asked, reaching across the table to take the plate. Just as he was about to take a bite, he sighed slightly and looked across the room. “He’s here.” “Where? I don’t see anything.” Sam responded. “There.” Castiel pointed out a couple just beginning to kiss. “The ‘same side of the booth’ couple over there?” Dean asked. “Meet me in the back.” Castiel said, before disappearing. Sam and Dean both jumped up quickly to head to the restaurant’s back room, but Marion stood slowly. She was sure that she didn’t want to be around a Cupid in her current state. “Cas, where is he?” Dean asked as Marion approached the doorway. “I have him tethered.” Castiel responded before speaking Enochian. “Manifest yourself.” Marion walked in as Dean asked, “Where is he?” and a tall, chubby, nude angel appeared. He hugged Dean tightly. “Here I am!” Dean sounded breathless as he called for help. “Oh, help is on the way. Yes, it is. Yes, it is.” Marion could almost see where the idea of Cupid as a baby came from, with all the baby talk. Cupid dropped Dean and moved for Castiel. “Hello, you!” Castiel was stiff as Cupid picked him up into the hug. “This is Cupid?” Dean asked. “Yes.” “And look at you.” Cupid said, setting his sights on Sam. Sam turned to run but Cupid appeared in front of him and wrapped him in a hug, as well. “Is this a fight? Are we in a fight?” Dean demanded, as Cupid set Sam down and looked, directly, at Marion. “This is… their handshake.” Castiel explained. Marion put her hand up. “I’d rather you didn’t, please. I was raised in a very modest environment. I was taught to feel shame in nudity. Being hugged by someone nude, angel or otherwise, would make me feel… dirty.” She said. “I don’t like it.” Dean said. “No one likes it.” Castiel said, as the Cupid patted Marion on the head, instead of hugging her, and walked in front of Cas and Dean with a contented smile. “Mmm. What can I do for you?” “Why are you doing this?” Castiel’s voice cut through to Marion’s brain again, forcing her to focus on making her brain clear. She found a counter and sat on it. “Doin’ what?” “Your targets, the ones you’ve marked, they’re slaughtering each other.” “What? They are?” Marion could tell Cupid was distraught, even across the room with her eyes closed. Dean didn’t seem to notice. “Listen, birthday suit, we know, okay? We know you been flittin’ around, poppin’ people with your poison arrow, makin’ ‘em murder each other.” “What we don’t know is why.” Marion closed her eyes tighter and wished Castiel would just stop talking. “You think that I- Well, uh… I don’t know what to say.” Marion opened her eyes a bit as she heard the Cupid sobbing. “Should… should somebody maybe… go talk to him?” Sam suggested. Dean nodded and lightly hit Castiel with the back of his hand. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Give ‘im hell, Cas.” Marion closed her eyes again and took a deep breath in anticipation of Castiel speaking. “Um… look. We didn’t mean to, um… hurt your feelings.” “Love is more than a word to me, you know. I love love. I love it! And if that’s wrong, I don’t wanna be right!” Cupid said. “Yes, yes. Of course. I, uh… I have no idea what you’re saying.” Castiel admitted. “I was just on my appointed rounds. Whatever my targets do after that, that’s nothing to do with me. I-I was following my orders. Please, brother. Read my mind. Read my mind, you’ll see.” After a few seconds, Castiel sighed. “He’s telling the truth.” “Jiminy Christmas! Thank you.” “Wait, wait, you said… you said you were just following orders?” “Mm-hmm.” “Whose orders?” Dean was being gruffer than normal. “Whose?” Cupid laughed. “Heaven, silly. Heaven.” “Why does Heaven care if Harry meets Sally?” Dean asked, as Marion made herself join the room again, opening her eyes and jumping off the counter. “Oh, mostly, they don’t. You know, certain bloodlines, certain destinies. Oh! Like yours.” Cupid gestured to Sam and Dean. “What?” Sam seemed surprised. “Yeah. The union of John and Mary Winchester- very big deal upstairs. Top priority arrangement.” The rage rolled off Dean in waves. “Are you saying you fixed up our parents?” “Well, not me, but… yeah. Well, it wasn’t easy, either. Ooh, they couldn’t stand each other at first. But when we were done with them; Perfect couple.” “Perfect?” Marion put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, hoping to calm her twin a bit. “Yeah.” “They’re dead!” Dean yelled, causing Marion to flinch. “I’m sorry, but… the orders were very clear. You and Sam needed to be born. Your parents were just, uh… meant to be.” Marion didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that she didn’t ‘need to be born’, because the Cupid started singing and Dean pulled away from her to punch the cherub, who then disappeared, as Dean rubbed his knuckles. “Where is he? Where’d he go?!” “I believe you upset him.” Castiel said. “Upset him?!” Marion rubbed her hands down her face as Sam picked a fight. “Dean. Enough!” “What?” Dean snapped. “You just punched a Cupid!” “I punched a dick!” Sam looked at Marion, who shook her head vigorously. “Um… Are we gonna talk about what’s been up with you lately, or not?” “Or not!”

Supernatural Tag- @letsby

#spn #spn fanfic #sister winchester #twin fic #epic fic #castiel/ofc

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blastthechaos · 6 years ago

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Lincoln Casagrande - Chapter 4

Lincoln laid lazily in Bobby's bed, his gaze on the ceiling, blank.

He had spent the last few days giving people information about the funeral to tell them to come, due to how big is family was and how many friends they have it certainly took a while, luckily he was helped by Ronnie and Bobby.

They didn't deserve to be dragged into this, but they insisted on helping him.

The people he met were saddened by their deaths but wishes a good and long prosperous life to him, while the worse ones just acted distant from him.

Eventually they finished and now in a few more days the funeral will be held.

He honestly didn't what to do with his life now, he still didn't went back to school given that all of his notebooks have been burned down by the fire so he had to start from scratch, plus given how he's been he was in no condition to go back to school, at least that's what the school personal, his grandfather and the santiagos said to him, so he didn't have another option did he?

Ronnie Anne was helping him getting on day though, so he was at least learning something.

From what he heard, Ms santiago was actually talking with his grandfather about something, but he couldn't tell what it was.

He let out a sharp breath.

He wanted to think on something to do, anything to not make him think of the tragedy, to distract himself and do something with his time instead of laying around here uselessly.

He idly began remembering what he talked about with his family friends until one stood out.

"What is that thing you're making Ms Rose?" He asked with a lack of enthusiasm.

Amelia Rose was an older woman with red hair who was a friend of his mom, right now she was knitting a red handkerchief that was the same color his mom used to wear.

Amelia noticed his lack of enthusiasm, but didn't hold it against him given the circumstances.

"Well, what i'm making his something special and a bit silly but...when i lose someone dear to me, i make a piece of clothing, accessory or something to wears in their favorite color, then wear it as a sort of memorial to them, i did the same when my husband died" She said pointing at the black and red scarf she was wearing.

"Oh, well i don't think it's silly at all...i think it's pretty cute"

"Thanks Lincoln, you're a real sweetheart...say, wanna read some ancient books with me?"

"Thanks for the offer but i'll pass, maybe some other day"

He thought about it for a bit, he was somewhat good with knitting due to picking up from his sister Leni...alright.

Let's get to work.

"So you want to do that with the last of my grandchildren?" Asked Albert.

Maria sighed.

"Look Albert, i was just making a suggestion, i just feel the kid needs someone to take care of him and he would be more comfortable with us" Said Maria.

Albert took a sharp breath.

"Look, it isn't that i don't trust you or your family, the problem is you are considering moving in with your family to the city and that's hours away, i'm not really comfortable having Lincoln so far away, plus i still have to talk it with Ruth and Lynn's side of the family, also there's the matter if Lincoln is comfortable with it"

"I know that, but i believe we can find a way to make it work, we can visit you and Ruth in royal woods occasionally...or you can move close to us, it's up to you"

"I doubt Ruth would want to move out of here and i don't want to leave my friends behind, but we see what we can do…"

"Ok, i'll talk with Lincoln and see what he thinks"

"So did you talk to your children about this?"

"...Oh look at the time, gotta hang, talk later!" and she hung the call.

She breathed in and out.

What? She wanted it to be a surprise so when her two chlidren got a taste of what is like to live with her family they would be okay with it, not the best of plans but it was something...right?

She then started calling someone.

"Hello?" Asked the voice in the other side of the phone.

"Hello...dad"

Bobby let out a groan once he finally arrived home, it was a long day at school and also a long day at work, not to mention he was still feeling in the dumps for the death of Lori and the loud family.

But well, he was still trucking on, he had to, for his sister his mom and his foster little brother.

Speaking of the last one, when he entered the house he noticed Lincoln was there...knitting something.

"Hey little bro, are you ok? What are you doing?"

Lincoln turned to Bobby, he didn't seem as sad now as he was before, only a blank look in his face.

He guessed that having something to do now actually helped him think on something else, he was grateful for that, still he was surprised by him knitting, not because he thought any less of him for it, he was just surprised that he could knite.

"Well i am...a little better, I'm just knitting" His voice seemed blank, not exactly monotone but...

"That's cool, didn't know you could knite"

"Kinda picked it off from Leni, i'm obviously not as good as her though"

"Well it's still pretty good from what i can see, it doesn't look like something easy to do"

At least from what he guessed, what Lincoln was knitting was seemingly a bandanna of multiple colors:teal, aquamarine green, purple, yellow, red, black, blue, pink, regular green and lilac. the colors were actually well done and transitioned well into each other.

He also had two cloths tied in his wrist, one salmon colored and the other dark green.

"Thanks, it was a bit hard at first and i did a few before as practice, but i like how this one is turning out, i just want to get it right"

Ah, so it wasn't his first attempt, now that he noticed, his hands look like they were poked by the needle a few times.

"It's okay, no one gets that good on their first attempt, i'm kinda curious about why are you knitting a bandanna and why you choose those colors"

Lincoln looked thoughtful for a time, then he answered.

"Well I...i thought of making this as some sort of memorial towards my sisters, the colors I choose where they favorite colors"

"...Oh, I'm guessing the things you tied around your wrist are for your parents"

Lincoln nodded.

Bobby smiled.

"Well i think it's very sweet from your part"

Although it was hard to notice, Bobby could see a smile forming on Lincoln's face, barely.

Then he started to think of something, he still wasn't coming back to school and he when he was doing something he was able to take his mind of things…

"Lincoln"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever wanted to draw?"

"Well yeah, one of my dreams before all this is drawing for Ace Savvy, why?"

Bobby smiled.

"Then i got something to show you"

"I'm telling you Ronalda, you really gotta stop threatening every school student you come across"

"But mom, i have a reputation to keep, plus I hear them talking smack about you and Bobby...and me"

"Look, i can tolerate what they say to me and you should either, getting violent won't solve anything"

"I think what you are getting it wrong, violence actually solves everything"

"You are starting to worry me with each passing day, i swear i remember when you were...well you where pretty serious, but you actually were sweet with people"

"I still am"

"With more people than just Lincoln, Bobby and me"

"What are you talking about? That's how I always been"

Maria arqued an eyebrow at this.

She was returning Ronalda from school, today she was allowed to have a free day and decided to spend some time with her daughter, she just got in trouble at the last bell and she had to stay through the same thing with the director huggins, honestly after getting into the same thing over and over again the three felt like they didn't care about this, just rinse and repeat, it was luck that Ronnie wasn't expelled after this, she happened to have good enough grades on her own despite what her rough attitude may let you to believe.

Anyways, today she had to make an special announcement.

The two entered the house and was surprised to see Bobby teaching Lincoln how to draw.

"Easy there, don't stress yourself"

"Ok i'm trying"

Maria and Ronnie were actually surprised, they knew Bobby was good at art but he wasn't actually all that interested in that, so it was nice to see him teaching Lincoln how to.

Lincoln and Bobby noticed the two.

"Oh hey, how was your day?" Asked Bobby.

"Eh, the usual, by the way Lame-O, what's that you're wearing?"

"This?" He said pointing to his new bandanna and cloths. "It's something I made myself, I tell you later why"

Ronalda shrugged, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

"Gotta say Bobby, it's nice of you to teach Lincoln to draw"

"Thanks, I figured Lincoln would like it, right bro?"

"Yeah"

Maria had a smile on her face, it was nice that her children got along with the last remaining loud, he didn't even look as sad as before, granted it was still far from his usual self.

Then again, it's probably hard for him to get back to normal after this, perhaps even after he grows up and makes a new life out of himself, he probably won't be the same as he was or could been had this hadn't happened.

But enough about that.

"Well, I have an special announcement to make, it can be hard to swallow though but I need you guys to listen"

The three started listened closely.

"Well, first off, this may be hard but...we are moving...with my family...to the city"

The three were frozen, not a single reaction out of them...in fact it looked like they weren't even breathing.

'...Well might as well take it all at once'

"AlsoIsPossibleThatLincolnMayBeAdoptedIntoOurFamilyAndHeProbablyWillComeWithUs" She said ligthnign quick.

The three didn't even move an inch, Maria was kinda afraid she broke them.

Then the three fell to the ground.

#The Loud House #TLH #Loud House #Fanfic #Fanfiction #TLH Fanfic #Loud House Fanfic #Lincoln Loud #Bobby Santiago #Ronnie Anne Santiago #Maria Santiago #Lincoln Casagrande AU

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im-whatchamccallit · 6 years ago

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The Hero//Yeo One (Pentagon)

(A/N: Sorry I didn’t upload yesterday. I had to handle some things. Anyways, this is something I made today just to contribute something and I will be posting twice a day from now on, once in the morning and once at night. This sin’t the best but I’m here to learn and grow, right? Anyways, enjoy!)

Pairing: Yeo Changgu x Reader

Genre: Fairytale!au, fluff

Warnings: Terrible writing (?)

Words: 2.1k (This is so long! I’m sorry!)

You groaned as you shifted in your bed, a faint echo drawing you from your slumber before actual words were made out, causing you to open your eyes groggily.

“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!” That voice was familiar.

You groaned as he continued screaming, your body flying upwards from the bed as you searched around the small tower’s room before finding an old book. You approached the window to see Changgu staring up hopefully, his horse patiently waiting for him to silence his decree before riding off for another day but, you, had no time.

You let out a loud yell as you tossed the hard covered book at him, watching him stumble as it hit his shoulder. He stared at you in bewilderment as you leaned out the window.

“I’m not Rapunzel! She’s on the other side of the forest! We’ve done this too many times, Changgu!” You screamed in annoyance as he reached down to grab the book, placing it on the satchel strapped to his horse. What a thief.

“Rapunzel is said to be a beautiful maiden with long flowing hair, trapped in a tower by an evil witch. I’m here to save you.”

“Listen, I’m gorgeous, I know, but she’s on the other side of the forest!”

You were Rapunzel, you just didn’t wish to be saved. Not by him, that is. Changgu found you months ago while wandering, escaping his village as he was the town’s thief. He was handsome enough to trick everyone into trusting him and clever enough to rob them blind. He was a fox and you weren’t falling for his tricks. You sent him on wild goose chases for the princess that was you, pinning your hair up to hide its length and taking on the new name of Ophelia to throw him off yet, he always came back, calling for you day after day.

Changgu wasn’t an idiot. He knew who you were, your story, everything. But, what he truly cared about was your hair. Legend had told it you were a princess, who knew how much it would sell for? Hell, who knew how much you’d sell for? All he knew is that he had to have it, one or both.

He sighed sadly, hiding his smile as he looked back up to you.

“That’s a shame. It’ll take me days to get through this forest by horse. I was only hoping to rescue a trapped maiden tonight, to show her a world he has yet to experience.”

He mentally laughed as he watched your eyes widen slightly. You have never been outside the tower. Your baths and meals were all given here in this almost cramped room, the closest thing to freedom was the fresh air you got from the triangular window. He wasn’t the person you wanted to rescue you, or anyone you wanted to be around for that matter, but, if it wasn’t him, then who? Another thief 20 years from now? A woodsman who wouldn’t hear your cries over the sound of his axe cutting into trees? It was now or never at this point.

You sighed and slowly climbed onto the window sill, Changgu smiling brightly as he watched your hand reach to your hair, hoping you’ll release your locks from the bun on your head but, instead, you let out a loud yawn, still not over the rude awakening.

“Okay, catch me.”

“Catch you? That’s a hundred foot dr-“ He watched as you jumped down, your hands attempting to hold your dress down as he began panicking. Would your hair save you? Would you somehow land on your feet? You were insane for this!

He snapped out of his thoughts as you let out an amused scream, your body much closer at this point and all he could think to do was catch you, letting out a yell as you fell into his arms, hurting his shoulder a bit.

You slowly removed yourself from his arms as he held back from crying, your feet dragging you to his horse that seemed quite friendly as you pet her mane.

“Here, let me help.” Changgu said as he finally eased the aching in his arm.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and hoisted you onto the large steed, his hand on your lower back as you wobbled slightly, smiling to him once you found your balance. He easily climbed on behind you, moving closer so that your back was pressed to his chest. You watched he reached forward to grab your hands, placing them onto the horse’s reins before peeking over your shoulder to look at you.

“Hold on tight, okay?” Before you could even nod in response, you were off, letting out a small yelp as the horse galloped into the forest.

A small smile grew on your face as you watched the trees pass by. So green and alive, unlike the few flowers in your tower that had died. You slowly removed your hand from his as you reached out to touch the leaves that passed by in flashes. They were soft against your hand, making you laugh excitedly.

Although his motives weren’t pure, Changgu couldn’t help but admit the sight before him was heartwarming. He could only imagine what it was like waiting in that tower for years. Knowing no one or nothing, having only yourself, it saddened him. But, the way you laughed as you gripped the trees and looked around anxiously at the sound of frogs from the nearby pond brought him some joy. He slowly brought his horse to a trot before ultimately stopping. Your eyes saw a wide open field with a large barren patch where a fire burned, a small tent just by it.

“Is this where you sleep?” You asked cautiously, feeling his body move from yours as he stepped down from the horse, reaching up to grab your waist and help you onto your feet.

“Yes, just until-“

“Until the village stops hating you?” You smirked up to him as he laughed slightly, forgetting he had confessed that to you some time ago.

“Have you eaten today?” He asked, leading you towards the fire before allowing you to sit on a nearby log.

You shook your head sadly, a small hum leaving his mouth as he turned from you. You watched with curious eyes as he slowly pushed off his coat, peeling away his shirt and shoes. Changgu’s hands reached towards his pants and you shyly looked away, hearing the material fall to the ground before a sudden splash. You turned back to see he had disappeared.

“Changgu?” You called, the only sound heard were from insects and the horse nearby eating what grass was still alive.

You gasped as you watched a head emerge from the water, Changgu gasping for air before diving back into the water, searching eagerly for a fish. You, unknowing to his plan, quickly kick off your strapped boots, rushing into the water to save him. You had no idea how to swim and your large dress wasn’t much help either, the material practically swallowing you as you tried to stay afloat.

Changgu watched as your feet kicked frantically, your head dipping beneath the water every so often before making his way towards you. You screamed slightly as he wrapped an arm around you, the other pushing your dress down as he swam closer to the land.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I thought you were drowning.” You said in response to his scolding.

He hurriedly placed you on the edge of the pond before climbing up next to you, your eyes quickly scanning him before looking away. So, that was what the male body looked like…

~*~*~

You stepped out of the tent, clad in Changgu’s coat that surprisingly covered everything, your dress hung up to dry on a nearby tree. Changgu sat in front of the fire, poking at the fish he caught as you were changing. You took a seat next to him on the small log, shifting slightly to not fall off. He had dressed himself but refused to wear his shirt, the slight breeze not bothering him as the fire’s warmth overruled it.

“So, I guess you do care about me.” You gave him a questioning look as he smirked, looking over to you before you looked away, your eyes landing on the sunset.

“Think of it as a debt. You helped me escape, helped me start a life I never thought I’d have, and I saved your life. Well, you saved mine, again. Besides, who am I supposed to explore the world with if you die?” You said with a slight chuckle, crossing your arms over your body.

Changgu watched as you crossed your legs and rubbed your arms together, obviously in need of warmth. He silently wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side as you continued to look ahead, actually enjoying his presence at this moment.

“So would that mean that you owe me twice now?” You rolled your eyes at the inquiry before nodding hesitantly.

“My first request is for you to let your hair down. It’ll never dry this way.” He stated as you sat up a bit. He was right but you also knew he was curious as to your hair’s true length.

You sighed and reached into your hair, pulling out the single bobby pin that held it together. He watched in amazement as your hair cascaded down your back falling to the ground in a pile that stopped just at your lower back. You sighed happily as the weight was removed before moving it over your shoulder, letting it fly almost 20 feet ahead of you, landing just by the horse that whinnied at the sight of it, stomping it hooves on it as it mistook it for a snake.

“Hey!” You yelled as it walked away from the strands, your lips pouting slightly before you turned back to the male whose eyes never left your locks.

He could be rich. The length was extraordinary and, coming from a princess, it’d sell for thousands. He slowly looked back at you, knowing what his final request would be but he froze. Your face was shaped differently as your hair framed one said of your face, the sun now gone allowing the fire to enhance your features, your eyes shining as you found his, confused as to why he was staring so much.

He had you right where he wanted you but couldn’t help but see the excitement and trust in your eyes, the way you listened to him, jumped to his rescue, even while knowing who he was and what he’s done, you were on his side.

He smiled slightly, exhaling from his nose as he cupped your exposed cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin as your eyes followed his hand before meeting his eyes once more.

“My last request is that you promise to stay by my side no matter what.” It was a bold demand but he was the only person you knew and even someone who could entertain you while learning more about who you are and the world around you.

“I promise.”

You stared at one another, your eyes lowering shyly as he moved closer, his lips inching closer to yours before suddenly stopping.

“(Y/N).”

“Who?” You asked, backing away in shock as he only looked at you.

“(Y/N)!” He called again, making you grimace as he continued, your eyes shutting but it only made his voice grow louder.

“(Y/N)!” Changgu jumped back as you snapped out of your world, your eyes going between him and the unfinished novel on your laptop’s screen.

He was dressed for bed, his eyes still so bright although he was clearly exhausted. He slowly moved closer to you from the doorframe where he stood, wrapping his arms around your neck and placing his chin onto your head as you read over the few lines of your story, his eyes following along with your cursor.

“Are you ready to sleep yet?” He asked tiredly, your eyes looking to the corner to see it was almost 2am.

“Uhm, yeah, sorry. I didn’t think you’d wait for me.” You admitted, saving your work and shutting your laptop before Changgu helped to move your chair back, holding your hands as he brought you to your feet.

“I’d always wait for you. I can’t sleep without by my side.” You rolled your eyes at how romantic yet cheesy he was, letting him drag you from your small office and down the hall to your bedroom, a small smile gracing your lips as he patiently waited for you to change and crawl into bed with him, his arms wrapping around you protectively as his lips pressed to your cheek and shoulder.

He was always by your side, like a bodyguard, except you didn’t need his protection, you only wanted his loving presence. No wonder your male protagonist were always like him.

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mycasandstarrs · 6 years ago

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SPN 8x06: “Southern Comfort”

THEN: Garth Fitzgerald IV. Sam retired because he met Amelia and they had a normal life. Dean was in Purgatory. Benny’s his new friend, whom Sam immediately distrusts.

Kearney, Missouri.

RIP first victim. Decapitated.

Oh shit, here we go.

“You want to talk about Benny? Fine. Let's talk.”

“Okay. How about he's a vampire?”

Don’t talk to Dean like he’s 5.

“Don't pretend I don't get it. I know you had to do what you had to down there.” No, Sam doesn’t get it. He didn’t just “do what he had to do”. Dean genuinely befriended Benny after going through Purgatory together.

“And what about my friend, Amy? She was what? 'Cause you sure as hell didn't have a problem ganking her.”

Amy had been killing people.

Benny hasn’t killed a single person since coming out of Purgatory.

You spent ONE DAY with Amy. Dean spent a year with Benny.

“He tell you he's not drinking live blood, or something? And you believe him. Wow. Okay.” HE KNOWS, HE’S SEEN BENNY DRINK FROM HIS BAGS.

“Yeah. I got a vampire buddy, and you turn your phone off for a year.”

“Don't turn this on me.”

You’re using Dean’s past year against him, he’s gonna turn around and do the same to you, regardless if it’s fair or not.

“Look, Benny slips up and some other hunter turns his lights out, so be it.”

“But it's not gonna be you, right?”

It is, actually, and it’s gonna be heartbreaking, so screw you very much.

At the crime house.

“Sam, Kevin's in the wind, okay, you're sulking around like a eunuch in a whorehouse, and I can't help but ask myself, when is decapitation not my thing?“ pfft.

Garth!!!

I really don’t get the annoyance they have with Garth??? That’s always been an issue of mine concerning the Winchesters.

Look how happy Garth is to see them again! What an angel!!

“Uh, you guys have no idea how much I missed you.”

“A Texas Ranger, Garth? Seriously? We're in Missouri.” Says the man who’ll say he’s a Texas Ranger in Kansas in S13.

Garth’s multiple phones.

Ringtone #1: “Jump” by Kriss Kross.

“Since when is giving advice your job?”

“Hold up. Are you the new Bobby?”

“You shut your mouth.”

“Yes.”

“You shut your mouth!”

I could honestly punch Sam and Dean for how mean they are to Garth. Garth’s been helping out as best as he could since three of the best hunters in the community either died or went M.I.A.

Scott Lew.

Eww. Green goo.

OHHH WHY DID GARTH HAVE TO TASTE IT????

Ringtone #2: “Wild Wild West” by Kool Moe Dee.

“One of those things rings Hammer, I'm throwing down.” Get ready to throw down then.

“Alcott” was carved into Chester’s chest.

“Do you remember anything at all about what happened? Um... Chester dying?”

“Not really. Bits and pieces, I guess.”

I get the joke too, Garth.

A visible negative reaction to the name “Alcott”.

“Sara had one night with him, whereas I was with Chester for 37 years.” And yet you couldn’t let go of her going to prom with him?

Lunch time.

“I was in Purgatory.”

“Like the Purgatory Purgatory?”

“No, the one in Miami.”

ohoho.

“Man, that’s balls.”

“That's not how you say ‘balls.’"

Why don’t you cool your damn jets, Dean?

“So, how’d you get out?”

I CAN’T STAND that passive aggressive move Sam does there.

Garth went to college and then dental school.

“Where'd you think I got my first case?”

“Let me guess - Tooth Fairy.”

“...Yeah. Man, I felt terrible when I ganked that SOB.”

I love that last line and the genuine sadness when Garth says it. Bless his heart.

Scott’s asthmatic, and he’s got ectoplasm coming out his ear.

HOT COFFEE TO THE FACE, GOOD LORD.

RIP Jeff. Killed by Scott.

“Sussex”

One of Bobby’s hats!

STOP BEING A FREAKING GATEKEEPER DEAN

“That's not how you wear it.” WHAT OTHER WAY IS THERE TO WEAR A HAT

AGAIN I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY THEY TREAT GARTH LIKE AN ANNOYANCE TO DUMP ON EACH OTHER.

Sara Alcott, now Sara Brown.

Domestic Sam flashback.

Sam and Amelia had sex.

“You asked me if I lost someone. I did. My husband. He died in Afghanistan eight months ago.”

“We were together forever. Or at least it seemed that way. Then one day, Don just enlists. Didn't ask me, just said something about wanting to do the right thing. Next thing I know, he's off overseas and I'm all alone. I got a couple letters, some phone calls, and then a knock at the door. Just like that. And everywhere I looked, all I could see was judgment and pity and just this constant reminder of Don everywhere. So I moved here... and became even more of a hot mess than I already was. And you hit a dog.”

This is one of Amelia’s better moments. When she lets go, when she lets her walls down, she’s honest and sweet.

“Easy there, flyweight. Last time you drank a beer, I had to pick you up off the floor.” Fair enough.

“You’re such an idjit.”

“Idjit's supposed to be used angrily. Okay? Not happy. If you're gonna butcher it, don't say it at all.”

KNOCK IT OFF, DEAN.

“Bobby belonged to all of us, Dean – not just you and Sam. Now, I'm just taking what he showed me and trying do something with it. That's all!”

It’s nice to see Garth stand up for himself. It certainly shut Dean up.

Grudges are the connection.

Bobby’s journal holds the answer: spectre.

The Confederate Unknown Soldier.

“See, the idea was, they took a faceless, nameless soldier they couldn't identify, and they buried him here to commemorate all the soldiers who died.”

“Did you learn that in college?”

“Nope – Civil War re-enactments. Once a year, every year. Don't hate.”

I hope Garth’s still doing what he loves.

Love that sass.

Sam finds the string. That’s an important clue.

“Why open it up if you're not gonna take anything?” Oh, but they did.

“Sure. We won.”

LMAAOOOO I LOVE THAT

Scott’s having an asthma attack. Deputy goes to get the inhaler...gets possessed by the spectre.

RIP Sheriff. Killed by Deputy Doug

Did Scott even get his inhaler?

Our next lead: Karl.

Dean’s on Karl, Sam and Garth have research.

“Hey, uh, Sam. If you ever need to talk, I just want to let you know that I'm here. About anything – you know, life, uh, Dean, you.” Garth’s a sweetheart.

Flashback.

“Hey. Uh, just lock up when you leave. I'm late.”

“Wait, what?”

Amelia’s probably got work, don’t worry about it, Sam.

“I know I said a lot of things last night, and I know I can't ask you to forget them. But just... Do.” And then she’s back on her bullshit.

“Because I don't need your pity. I don't need you looking at me the way they all – like that.” Is it me or is she confusing pity with sympathy?

“Hey, ump. You remember me? I stole second!”

“Karl? What the hell are you doing? Why are you doing –”

“Why am I gonna make mustard from your brain stem?! I don't know. Why did you call me out, ump?”

OF ALL THE THINGS TO HOLD A DAMN GRUDGE ABOUT

A theory on who the Confederate Unknown Soldier is.

“Corporal Collins of the Union shot and killed his brother, Vance, who fought for the Confederacy. Local boys.”

“Legend has it that Vance swore vengeance on his brother with his dying breath. Years later – consumed by guilt, no doubt – the corporal dug his brother up where he'd buried him on the battlefield and brought him home.”

UH, DID HE HAVE TO SMELL HIM LIKE THAT?

There’s the spectre’s object: a penny.

W E L P

Three Days Ago.

“Fell on Black Days” by Soundgarden. I always wondered what the song was, I always enjoyed it.

I love the montage of how the coin got passed around.

“Well, let's go through some of Sammy's greatest hits.” Let’s not.

“Yeah, I might have lied, but I never once betrayed you.” Uh, Amy.

“I never once left you to die.” Ok, can’t argue with that.

Garth putting his life on the line.

“Come on, Dean. You do not want to kill your brother. You – you've been protecting him your whole life. Don't stop now.”

“He left me to rot in Purgatory!”

“All right. All right. Maybe he did. I don't know. I wasn't there. But I'm sure he had his reasons.”

“Just like you had your reasons for Benny.”

“Who?”

LMAO

“Benny has been more of a brother to me this past year than you've ever been! That's right. Cas let me down. You let me down. The only person that hasn't let me down is Benny.” Oof, that’s gonna stick with Sam.

“Goodbye, Sam.” :(

NICELY DONE, GARTH!

“How come that penny didn't jack you like everyone else? I mean, I can understand why it didn't affect the kid who took it. He's young and innocent. But, uh, everyone at some point in their life feels like they've been screwed.”

“Not me, man. I let all that stuff go with the help of my yogi, my Sega Genesis. And you should, too. You can't change the past, amigo.”

Garth’s a damn saint.

“Now, there's something I want to say to you. Stop being a idjit! With Bobby dead, you and Sam are all each other has. And that's not so bad, man. Now, you know what's coming next, right?”

Garth hug! Garth hug! Garth hug!

Ringtone #3: “U Can’t Touch This” by M.C Hammer.

“Yo, Lamar. What do we got? Wendigo? You got a flare gun? No? What about a flame thrower? Then you'd better get some sneakers, buddy, 'cause you're gonna have to run.”

I love Garth.

Why couldn’t we have ended the episode there?

“I don't pity you. Okay? I don't. You and I – we're a lot of things, but we're not to be pitied.” True.

God, how much was she drinking?

The start of their relationship.

“You and I both know you didn't need that penny to say those things.” True. Dean will reiterate that Benny’s the best friend he ever had in a later episode, completely on his own will.

“Own up to your crap, Dean. I told you from the jump where I was coming from, why I didn't look for you. But you? You had secrets. You had Benny. And you got on your high and mighty, and you've been kicking me ever since you got back. But that's over. So move on, or I will.”

Again, I won’t argue with Sam. Dean should’ve told Sam about Benny from the jump (maybe then Sam wouldn’t hate Benny so much). Dean does deflect from talking about his own past year but bringing up Sam’s. It’s been happening for months and Sam’s sick of it. I get it.

“You know what? Hear this, too. I just might be that hunter that runs into Benny one day and ices him.”

And there^ is where I draw the line. The first half was understandable but that^? I think that’s Sam’s rather pathetic attempt to say something that’s gonna hurt Dean’s feelings the way his own feelings were hurt. Like, Sam...don’t embarrass yourself.

#supernatural #spn summer rewatch #spn liveblog #spn 8x06 #southern comfort

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ask-bohemian-ilse · 7 years ago

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answer all of them!

11. what’s an inside joke you have with your friends?* there’s far too many to pick just one, honestly.

12. what’s your favorite planet?* saturn!

13. what’s something that made you smile today?* first, stanley anderson let me copy his math homework. then, @ask-melchior-gabor gave me some of his favorite pirate literature that i haven’t read yet during study hall. and then i got burgers with @ask-max-von-trenk and @ask-the-reformatory! (having normal food was SO great.)

14. if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?* a huge mess. seriously! at least my section would. it’d probably be decorated pretty clashingly, because we all have different interests. it’d definitely be covered in flowers. and it would have lots of books! (for melchior)

15. go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!* mercury is shrinking!!!

16. what’s your favorite pasta dish?* fettuccine alfredo…yum!

17. what color do you really want to dye your hair?* i don’t have any desire to dye my hair at the moment, honestly.

18. tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between between you and your friends and is always brought up.* @ask-moritz-stiefel exposed that i stabbed him with scissors once because i thought he was possessed. nobody wants to let it go!

19. do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw in it?* i do! when i feel really out of my head, i either ramble just to get everything off my mind, or draw some pretty strange stuff. it’s very useful.

20. what’s your favorite eye color?* green!

21. talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.* my trusty “in case of sudden escape” bag has seen me through everything. it’s always full of necessities, and it is immune to being torn apart! it’s very sturdy, small enough that i can wear it without feeling weighed down, easy to travel with, and still covered in paint. it’s been there for me through so much. love you, bag.

22. are you a morning person?* most of the time!

23. what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?* go down to the creek, lay out in the sun, listen to some music, and just relax.

24. is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?* i’m too ashamed to tell anybody ALL of my secrets — but in the matter of trust, i’d have no qualms placing my faith in max, melchior, and @ask-hanschen-rilow these guys are locked boxes.

25. what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?* one night, a group of us (the phallustics and some other models) were so drunk that we managed to get ourselves into a yacht that DEFINITELY didn’t belong to us. most of the passengers were pretty drunk too. i’ve also broken into a lighthouse…that was fun.

26. what are the shoes you’ve had forever and wear with every single outfit?* i have these killer sandles that are very ancient greece-like. they’re my favorites!

27. what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?* motitas banana gum!

28. sunrise or sunset?* sunrise

29. what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?* moritz does this adorable thing where his nose wrinkles when he thinks you’ve said something especially funny/outrageous. it’s so cute! i love it!

30. think of it: have you ever been truly scared?* yes.

31. what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.* i have a love-hate relationship with socks. as most of you know, i’m happiest barefoot. however, i love crazy/weird socks! especially knee-high ones! they’re so fun to play around with! i do not sleep in socks, though.

32. tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3 AM when you were with friends.* this one time, melchi and i were ridiculously high and we tried to order food. it went REALLY badly. he kept trying to not have to pay for food by psychoanalyzing the poor worker, and then i stood on a table, and we couldn’t stop laughing, and it was overall very chaotic and he’ll kill me for bringing it up again at some point. (love you, melchi!)

33. what’s your fave pastry?* OH! THERE’S SO MANY GREAT ONES TO CHOOSE FROM! i love sfogliatelle so much. i’ll go with that!

34. tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what did it look like? do you still keep it?* i wasn’t allowed to have one.

35. do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?* yes and yes!

36. which band’s sound would fit your mood right now?* misterwives.

37. do you like keeping your room messy or clean?* M E S S Y

38. tell us about your pet peeves!* people invading my personal space, being talked over, the sound of a fork scraping someone’s teeth, people who grab me without warning.

39. what color do you wear the most?* hmm…probably green!

40. think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s its story? does it mean anything to you?* the piercing in my collarbone? the one that keeps getting infected? i did it because i was really angry at the time — the night before i left. i was so, so tired of the way i had to live to keep modeling and to keep being pretty and all of that. it’s my freedom, baby!

41. what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? * it was a collection of h.p lovecraft’s works.

42. do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!* it’s small, but it’s always warm and it smells like vanilla. the people who work there are insanely friendly. it’s a bit dark, but in the cozy way. they always remember my name there.

43. who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?* moritz.

44. when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?* there was this one night where @ask-georg-zirschnitz and i were chilling on the roof. it was so quiet, and so warm, and i felt so safe. that was the end of last summer.

45. do you trust your instincts a lot?* incredibly so, yes.

46. tell us the worst pun you can think of.

47. what food do you think should be banned from the universe?* at the moment, fish.

48. do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?* yes! i just bought a duran-duran cd…no shame!

49. what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?* my father. no.

50. what’s an odd thing you collect?* georg says my collection of old letters written during the wars is weird.

51. think of a person. what song do you associate with them?* “baby’s on fire” by die antwoord.

52. what are your favorite memes of this year so far?* keanu reactions.

53. have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?* I HAVE THE RHPS MEMORIZED IN ITS ENTIRETY. MY DREAM IS TO DO ONE OF THE REENACTMENTS AS COLOMBIA. heathers is good, but hits a bit too close for me to watch comfortably. beetlejuice is a halloween classic! pulp fiction is also a classic i love.

54. who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?* i looked in a mirror. KIDDING! KIDDING! actually, stan the man did seem kinda sad today.

55. what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point?* chugged nearly a whole bottle of benadryl. DON’T DO THAT.

56. what are some things you find endearing in people?* when they talk about things they love and their faces get all glowy. when they laugh.

57. go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?* shocked at how high freddie mercury’s voice can go. no, but i did start dancing.

58. who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?* i’m the wine mom, max is the vodka aunt. it just fits.

59. what’s your favorite myth?* the myth of arachne!

60. do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?* i adore poetry! the book “new american best friend” by olivia gatwood is full of all my favorites.

61. what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever been given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received?* i don’t believe in stupid gifts!

62. do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?* orange juice!

63. are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or leave them be?* no! i leave them be, makes it easier for my siblings/friends to grab them when they want to.

64. what color is the sky where you are right now?* black.

65. is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d like to hang out with?* @ask-bobby-maler

66. what would your ideal flower crown look like?* full of baby’s breath and orchids! very big.

67. how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?* miserable. terrible. sad and alone.

68. what’s winter like where you live?* cold and bitter and awful.

69. what are your favorite board games?* clue!

70. have you ever used a ouija board?* yes

71. what’s your favorite kind of tea?* chai tea and bubble tea!

72. are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it?* depends on my state of mind

73. what are some of your worst habits?* addiction and clinginess

74. describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.* very easygoing. lots of piercings. naggy about my personal health but throws caution to the wind with theirs. very handsome. a fantastic listener. an even better friend.

75. tell us about your pets!* hellbeasts.

76. is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?* homework.

77. pink or yellow lemonade?* pink!

78. are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?* the what?

79. what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?* one time, reinhold picked me up from school and he had this playlist full of music he thought i’d like and it was one of the sweetest things in the world.

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? • i have white walls! i didn’t, but georg’s mom lets me draw on them :) 81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. • luminous!  82: are/were you good in school? • i…don’t think my grades indicate my understanding of what we’re being taught. 83: what’s some of your favorite album art? • david bowie has cool covers! 84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? • i have one! i don’t want another at this moment, but maybe later… 85: do you read comics? what are your faves? • teen titans is a fun read 86: do you like concept albums? which ones? • THE RISE AND FALL OF ZIGGY STARDUST!!! 87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? • black swan. the rocky horror picture show. moulin rouge.  88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? • tons! i go too in-depth, though.  89: are you close to your parents?* no. 90: talk about one of your favorite cities. • novosibirsk. so cool.  91: where do you plan on traveling this year? • i don’t know yet! 92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? • DROWN IT 93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? • i like putting flowers in my hair. i leave it down!  94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? • wiebke from lit class! 95: what are your plans for this weekend? • i don’t know yet. get really fucking high? maybe leave town. 96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? • depends 97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? • i don’t know. taurus. i don’t know. 98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? • last weekend! it was lovely! 99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. • vagabond by misterwives, homeless by marina kaye, rootless by marina and the diamonds 100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?* neither. i don’t want to risk that.

#ilse neumann #ask

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ekbirchelps · 7 years ago

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The Magenaza Epic: Solstice Rising

Serafa vs Coburn

The saloon’s cardsharp and his buddy pay me a visit under the cover of darkness. Even the moonlight is blocked out by dense clouds, providing no light with which to reveal the deeds of the wicked.

Nim is quiet as I stalk through the back streets of town, anger simmering in my belly. What gives Jael the right to order me around? She isn’t perfect. She can be hurt, or maimed, or … No, I can’t allow myself to think that way. From now on, I will never let her work tables alone.

Mama would hate what I’ve become. Her words settle in my gut like a sandstone block. Mama isn’t here! Why does Jael care so much about what Mama thinks? Why does she have to be so damn noble?

I should’ve known better than to wander the streets of an unfamiliar town angry. Wrath is like a fiery wall, burning away anything and everything else—whether it be unkind words or common sense. It prevents me from seeing what would normally be obvious—the crunch of boots, the abnormal shadows drifting along the building fronts, the uncharacteristic silence of a world holding its breath. Expecting.

A gleam of golden light flashes across my vision. Oh, no. Energy spikes in me like lightning. I pull the knife from my belt with a strangled cry, but the golden light is too fast. Faster than I can blink, the yellow light is a hand, an arm, a body, seizing my hand and wrenching it back. Stabbing pain shoots through my arm, and my blade drops to the ground with a muffled thud. Through a haze of panic, I register glowing, serpentine eyes and pointed teeth that gleam in the firelight.

Shamyrin help me.

“Help!” I try to scream. Out comes a feral, piercing thing that in no way resembles human speech, but it’s loud. I scramble away, but arms like iron wrap around my torso and haul me back. I thrash, loose stones raking against my skin, sight a blur of black and brown, breaths coming in ragged gasps. I’m going nowhere, nowhere but back, back, back—away from the safety of firelight and watchful eyes. Abject terror eclipses any reason I still cling to. I jerk against the hands with all my might, horrible, pathetic gasps tumbling from my lips in jagged chunks.

Hand over my mouth. Can’t breathe. Lungs hurt. Arms hurt. I barely notice. Dirt scraping skin. Black spots dancing in my vision. Shadows closing in.

Then I’m hurtling through the air. I plow into something hard and rough—a wall. Then I fall what could be a hundred cubits through open air until I hit something else—the floor. Years of experience have me scrambling to my feet before I can see straight, feet planted, hands balled into fists, sucking in deep, steadying breaths. Several beaconstones hang from the ceiling in grimy lanterns, illuminating the room with oily yellow light. A rug lies under a wooden table sitting in the corner. Other than that, the room is empty.

“… is her, eh?” a male voice says.

“I’m sure I heard ‘em say her name at the stables. ”

“The She-devils of Areva,” the first voice says. He melts away from the dark like a galdu, a demon of the netherworld, eyes glowing in the shadow of his hat. But they are not galdu eyes. They are fairy eyes, right down to their large, upturned shape, narrow pupil, and unnaturally vivid color. His pointed ears twitch as he smiles and jabs a cane at me. “This is the one they call Spitfire. So it’s true: You are a mongrel.”

“After all the rumors, I was expecting someone a bit more impressive,” the other one spoke up. I have to tilt my head up to see his face, which bear the strong, regal features of a humbawi—an Arevai giant. He stares down at me, burly arms the size of my legs crossed over his chest.

I bare my teeth at them, heart pounding so hard it feels as though it might burst from my chest. “Leave me alone.”

“Of course, but first we need to resolve a little problem.”

I’ve witnessed the ungodly speed of fairies many times, but I am never prepared for it. This instance is no exception. The next thing I know, I’m flat on my back, air driven from my lungs in a single whoosh. As I struggle to drag in a breath, the fairy looms over me, green eyes swimming in my vision like polished gems. The end of his cane presses into my chest, right on the bone in the center. “My name is Alastair Coburn, card table worker at Utuma’s Saloon. My colleagues and I are a bit miffed; you see, your silver-tongued she-devil of a sister took something from us. Here in Nim, we don’t tolerate thievery. I ask respectfully that your sister give it back.”

“Why you telling me?” I rasp, throat raw and tight from screaming. “Too scared to ask her yourself?”

I barely have time to witness the burn of hatred and embarrassment in the fairy’s eyes before he stomps on my nose.

Ow.

“… me, birdbrain whelp,” Coburn hisses. His face is much closer now; I can make out the swirling brown marks on his face, typical of a full-grown fay. “We over at Utuma’s Saloon run a very tight ship. I don’t appreciate upstart mongrels coming in and upsetting our business.”

Blood drips down the back of my throat, metallic and warm. “You mean you don’t want Jael showing you up.”

“I don’t think you quite understand what’s going on here,” the Elphynian growls. The light casts shadows on his face, making him appear skeletal, otherworldly. “I wield considerable influence in this town. How do you think the people of Nim would feel about Deathdealer and Silver-tongue hiding among them?”

Probably the same as most other towns did. “I dunno,” I replied, words running together in my mouth. My mind buzzes so loudly I can’t string together a comprehensible thought. “But it don’t matter. Jael ain’t ever gonna give you that money back. Not even if the galdu themselves came to fetch it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Coburn snarled.

“What you gonna do, bitty bobby? Kill me?”

“Of course not,” the fairy replied. “But I can do this. Knock her down.”

Expression like stone, the humbawi seizes me from behind and throws me on the ground.

Well, Jael, you’re always saying I don’t have enough experience to work with you. Maybe this is how I get it. At the hands of a piss-poor loser and his behemoth friend.

Hysterical laughter bubbles up in my throat as I twist back so I can look my assailant in the eye. “I hate you,” I say through a mouthful of grit.

Coburn’s green eyes shine down at me, radiating a sinister glee.

A vile stream of curses and oaths spills from my lips as I struggle to regain my footing, but the swaying floor and my spotty vision makes it difficult. Propping myself up, I manage to catch a glimpse of Coburn’s pointed teeth as he draws back his foot. Sensing his intent, I try to dodge, but I am no match for Coburn’s speed. His boot plows into my side and nearly expels the contents of my stomach out my mouth.

Blood spatters the earthen floor, smearing against my cheek. Curling into a ball, I tell him as clearly as one can with a gut that feels like it’s been trampled by a team of horses to go and do something Jael would’ve thrashed me within an inch of my life for saying. Coburn’s laughter is acid in my ears, burning my insides, scorching away the pain and leaving venomous fury in its place.

If only words hurt the way guns or knives or fists could. If only they could tear holes in skin or rip out hair or break noses. If only, if only, if only.

Stand up, I tell myself. You have to stand up. So I do. Arm clamped over my aching midriff, I plant my hand against the wall, shift my legs, and claw my way to standing. All the while, I stare Coburn dead in the eye, daring him to knock me down again.

“I hate every single one of you fay bastards.” It comes out a wordless groan— rather pitiful compared to the magnificent invectives I’m capable of employing—but at this point I’m grasping at straws. “I hope the lilit find you and rip off your—”

Crack.

The last thing I remember before pain and red consume me is bitter regret. Regret that I wasn’t strong enough. Regret that I might not get to see Jael put Coburn and the giant six feet under. Regret that the last words I spoke to her might be my last.

I’m sorry Jael. I really hope I’ll live long enough to tell you that.

@firewritten, @creativityflows, @eternalwritingstudent, @weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables

more excerpts | what’s the magenaza epic (tme)? | tme tag | ask me a question | add me to your tag list

#tme

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thesportssoundoff · 7 years ago

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Ten incomplete thoughts on UFC 216

Due to work, I missed the main card except for the main event which I managed to get home in time for. Anyways here’s what I got based off of the prelims and the FX card.

1- Demetrious Johnson is our ugly baby

This is a Jerry Jones-ism so forgive me but I think it fits if you think about it. Have you ever seen a couple that just had a baby---and the baby's ugly? To everyone on the outside, the baby is absolutely hideous looking but to THEM, to those parents, it's the most beautiful thing ever because its THEIR baby. Demetrious Johnson is our ugly baby. For some fight fans and casual consumers, Demetrious Johnson is a midget who has boring fights against limited competition with a weird personality. He lacks a demographic, a definable fanbase by which an organization can capitalize on his gifts. He's destined to be the guy or the man who fight fans have no interest in. His mere PRESENCE on a card or an event signifies skippable to them. He is almost a fan repellant at this point. He is, in many ways, an ugly baby.

But he's our ugly baby. He's the best fighter in the world as of right now. Where as other see boring fights over limited competition; we see dominant performances vs good fighters who would be great in a world where he doesn't exist. Whereas they see the hit but don't get hit style as boring, we see endless activity through a variety of channels designed to minimize risk BUT still promote action. He finishes fights. He challenges himself to be better. His dominant reign has never featured two fights alike and while you can be bored with the dominance, it's still dominance. It's still one man dominating a host of opponents of various shapes, sizes and styles. All of which unique, all of which remind you that what you're seeing is special and what everybody else sees is irrelevant. Who gives a shit if he's an ugly baby, he's YOUR baby.

Mighty Mouse, in a climate where fighting often and fighting consistently on TV isn't really worth as much as it should, will never be respected for what he is. He's our ugly baby; the thing only we can truly appreciate. You just gotta go with it.

2- The Uniqueness of Combat Sports; Good and Bad; was on display.

We begin with the good. The 1 v 1 nature of MMA (and boxing and etc) makes it so much more free flowing as to the how and why we get the matchups. There is no set schedule---so when Derrick Lewis hours before the show can't go? You just get another guy on display! Out comes Walt Harris who had a fight scheduled previously who gets bumped up the card. That's the fun thing about MMA; it's never always laid out to perfection but 9/10, it ends up being just fine. Instead of not getting a Werdum fight, we get Werdum vs Walt Harris on like six hours notice. That's really cool.

And the negative? Well in no other sport would an obvious matchup not happen on account of money. The brackets are what they are, the Yankees and Red Sox don't immediately get to play one another in the ALCS. Who wins is who wins. Tony Ferguson vs Conor McGregor is the fight to make under all categories except for one----which happens to be the biggest one. At the risk of upsetting the Nate Diaz fans, imagine if the Lakers last year took the place of the Spurs to ensure that the NBA would garner the biggest ratings for their playoffs. It'd be stupid---but MMA is a stupid sport sometimes. So we'll sit and wait to determine whether the right title fight will take place or whether the most economical title fight will take place. Either one will do.

3- Mighty should SERIOUSLY think about retiring.

There's a theory that flyweight would've had a better chance of surviving had it not been for Demetrious Johnson, the aforementioned ugly baby of MMA. Let's test that. Mighty Mouse should seriously consider pulling a GSP. Just take off for a while, work on the Fox team/whatever network is next team and provide analysis from a distance. When the opportunity arises for him to come back aka when there's a title fight that makes sense, he should return. Let's see if HE is the problem of it the division itself is a problem.

4- Tony Ferguson is a once in a decade type fighter

No, I don't mean that in the sense that he's a prodigious athlete or some special draw. He's not Conor or Ronda or whomever else has been tabbed with such a label. I'm talking about a guy who is a fighting freak; one of those fucked up type of guys who has these fights that the average human being couldn't fathom and even pro fighters would try to avoid. He began the third round shouting at Kevin Lee about how this was going to be his round and he legit just marched dude down, ate whatever fire was coming his way, got up from takedowns and then when shit got hairy on the ground, he went elbows into armbar into triangle. Tony Ferguson fights with this unrelenting confidence and this air of inevitability. "At some point, I'm going to get you. And when I do? You aren't going to do shit about it." Ferguson isn't just a great fighter, he's a savage sadistic will breaker. You don't see guys like that come along, not in today's MMA where fans think fighters play it safe more than ever before.

5- Greg Jackson had a bad night.

I didn't see any of the main card fights beyond the main event but this goes to the Duquesnoy and the Ray Borg fight. In the former, it felt like any adjustments after the first round were nil for Duquesnoy. Unorthodox only works when fighters are afraid of it and you execute it with near perfection. The unorthodox offense and footwork of Duquesnoy was figured out pretty quickly by Stamman and the adjustments were....I unno. MAYBE Duquesnoy got some great advice and he just didn't execute on it. His third round was abysmal from start to finish and outside of Stamman nearly giving him the fight by virtue of being an idiot, it was not the performance we expected from a top prospect. As for Ray Borg? WHEN has clinching with Mighty Mouse ever worked. I watched a bushel of Demetrious Johnson fights in a row and pointed out that the clinch is where he excels---so Borg clinched and wrestled. Even if Ray Borg isn't a good striker, you have a better chance of starting something on the feet. Furthermore, you HAVE to tell your fighter to never go for the neck on Mighty Mouse. Everytime he takes guys down, they chase that desperation guillo because he feeds it to them. Every single write up I read involved some form of "Borg chases a guillotine" but that never works. NEVER. The gameplan didn't seem to give Borg a single shot. Also felt like Lando Vannata engaged far too much vs Bobby Green BUT I'm not gonna hold dude responsible for that.

6- I think Kevin Lee is making a right choice jumping up to 170 lbs

I made the comparison of Gray Maynard for Kevin Lee at 155 lbs. I think that's still apt---but I think Lee going UP in weight is the right idea. Kevin Lee said he weighed 185 lbs or more vs Tony Ferguson and so that gives you an accurate window of what MOST 155 lbers are weighing after rehydration and etc etc etc. Lee will not be at that big of a size and strength disadvantage vs guys at 170 lbs. Look at how MOST 155ers who have moved up have been able to hold their own vs genuine welterweights. The difference is not that massive and so I figure Lee with better cardio will pop into that top 10 discussion.

7- I need a good reason why there's no 165 and 175 lb divisions

Just curious what the excuses are. I understand it might not curtail weight cuts but it can't hurt for sure. Unless you're going to tell me 185 lbers are going to try to kill themselves to make 175 lbs but if thats a concern, just establish a weight percentage rule. Weigh more than 15% of your intended weight class? Move up or move out! If you're concerned about MMA watering itself down then I mean are you not realizing the quality of talent between 155 lbs and 185 lbs? That's a stupid excuse. The quality of fights will improve because people aren't dying to make weight that intensely. You're at least TRYING something. Two more titles? 99% of you people don't even care who the champ is anyways if he's not a star so how does it impact your ability to enjoy MMA?

8- Brad Tavares is quietly becoming really good.

I've been harsh on Tavares because I feel like he's better than what he's put out recently. Over the past two fights though, he's shown some serious improvements. He's more aggressive while still being his usual composed and patient self. He's got a great jab, he can wrestle with just about anybody. In many ways it felt like he always knew his chin was a little questionable and so he fought to protect that. Recently though it feels like he's more aggressive than usual and that's a good thing. I just think he needs to get that finish which has eluded him so far in the UFC.

9- Magomed Bibulatov losing is a bummer.

Yes yes yes yes. I know. Try to hear me out here for a second will ya? The one thing we keep hearing about guys at 125 lbs is that they're all basically the same guy. The idea that they're all just fighters fighting the most boring guy in the world. Bibulatov had a teensy bit of buzz on him and John Moraga, a dude who at this point is your gatekeeper to the stars, smelted him. Woooof.

10- The Anik, Rogan and Cormier team seemed to have an idea of how to work together.

Don't know if it was the week or whatever the case may be BUT thesse guys were all on their game. Cormier seemed to fit in better and have a better understanding of what he should or should not be calling and their jokes actually seemed to work for once. Most of all, all three guys seemed to be in the zone with very little moments of "Wow that was stupid!" Good night fo rthis new commentary squad.

#MMA #UFC #UFC 216 #Ferguson #Lee

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hannahindie · 7 years ago

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In the End

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Chuck (narrator) Word Count: 4,111 (My hands slipped...whoops) Warnings: Blood, description of injury, being trapped, foul language A/N: I wrote this for @mamaredd123‘s 100 quotes challenge! I had a lot of fun writing Chuck, and his quote is in bold within the fic. Congratulations, mama!

Beta’d by my lovely @pinknerdpanda! “ I'm shook. SHOOK i tell ya! Love this part.”

As usual, tags are at the bottom! If you would like to be tagged, please let me know.

Overview: Chuck decides to tell the story of the reader and how important she is to Dean. Meanwhile, the reader takes off on her own without telling Dean where she was going and bites off more than she can chew.

Endings are hard…but you know, I’m getting ahead of myself. I should really start at the beginning. Not the beginning beginning...that would take far too long, and honestly it has nothing to do with now. What we’re talking about is the beginning of Y/N and the Winchesters. Out of all the relationships they have developed over the years, the one they had with her was one of the most important. They had gone through a lot together; they had lost so much, and almost lost each other, but they always, always prevailed. Of course, being God I’ve had a front row seat to most of it but today...today I’m going to stick with Y/N. It’s important to stick around for the beginning and the ending to a story.

Dust. The smell of rotten wood. Damp earth. Y/N couldn’t remember where she was, the last fuzzy memory she had was of being somewhere well lit, wind blowing through open windows and smooth leather under her fingertips.

The Impala. The last place she remembered was being in the backseat of the Impala on her way...to...somewhere. That memory seemed far away though, and didn't explain why she was where she was now.

The next thing she noticed was pain; blinding, fiery pain that swept through her torso and into what felt like every bone in her right side. She shifted slightly, biting back a scream as even the smallest movement sent agony coursing through her. She dug her fingers into the cool, soft dirt she was laying on as she attempted to calm herself down enough to inventory all the injuries she had.

She took a deep breath, her eyes still shut, and slowly moved one hand up and towards the main source of pain. She noticed that everything seemed fine as she ran her hand from her upper thigh to her hip, but as she traveled towards her rib cage, her hand brushed against a sharp, splintery shard of wood. As soon as she made contact with it, she screamed. If she thought it hurt before, nothing compared to the white hot agony that streaked through her ribs and into her chest. She took another deep breath and tried to brace herself for what she was about to see.

She lifted her head as much as she could without jostling herself any more than necessary and slowly opened her eyes. A large chunk of wood, about a foot long and four inches wide, had gone through her side and under her ribs. A quick check told her that it also protruded slightly out of her back, and she groaned as she dropped her head back onto the ground. She'd been in some pretty bad situations, but she was pretty sure this took the cake. She wondered if Sam and Dean even knew where she was. She closed her eyes and tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to come.

How the hell did she even get here?

By all accounts, had Y/N had a normal life growing up, she probably wouldn't have found herself here. Not saying she would have had a white picket fence kind of life, but she probably wouldn't have found herself in a dark cellar, impaled on a piece of wood while running from a vampire.

But she didn't. She grew up traveling the country with her parents, much like the Winchesters, and had been lovingly deposited at both Bobby’s and Pastor Jim’s on various occasions. It was during one of those instances that Y/N met Sam and Dean.

They did not get along.

They would not get along for much of their younger lives; Y/N and Sam were fine but her and Dean...they butted heads constantly. One time they fought so hard, Bobby had to take a water hose to them to make them stop. Later, he'd had to use the hose on them for a completely different reason that I don't want to go into detail about. Let's just say, they started to get along.

The long and short of it was that, no matter how long it had been, when Y/N and Dean saw each other again, they always fell back in step as though no time had passed. Which was why, when her parents died in a car accident (a heck of a way for hunters to go out. Sometimes I like to cut ‘em some slack), Y/N had looked for Dean and Sam, which in turn...brought us here.

Despite the pain in her side and the overwhelming urge to just lay on the cool ground, Y/N forced herself to roll to her uninjured side and onto her hands and knees. Her stomach roiled and threatened to rebel against her as she struggled to keep her balance. Her vision began to fade around the edges and she prayed that she wouldn’t pass out; all she needed was to land on the piece of wood just the wrong way. After a moment, the feeling passed and she chanced a quick glance around the room to see if she could use anything to stand up. There was a thick wooden beam to her left that still seemed fairly stable, so she slowly crawled across the dirt floor, grimacing as small pieces of stone and broken glass dug into her palms and knees.

She took a deep breath, gripped the beam as tightly as she could, and slowly pulled herself up from the ground, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as she bit back another scream. Once she was standing upright, she leaned against the rough wood, ignoring the splinters dimpling the soft flesh of her cheek, and struggled to catch her breath. Bits and pieces of how she got here were starting to come back to her, and she realized that she’d rather just deal with the task at hand than deal with the idiotic decision that led her here. She dug her hand around in her pocket and pulled out her phone. Though the screen was cracked, everything else seemed to be in working order, so she turned the flashlight on and risked taking another look at her side. From this angle it was hard to see much because her flannel was in the way, but she could still see where the wooden shard came out on both sides. There wasn’t as much blood as she would have thought there’d be, but she knew that the wood was probably keeping most of it in. “I’m not a doctor...but that looks pretty bad, kiddo. Like, ‘You’ve got some internal bleeding that’s going to get exponentially worse when you pull that out’ bad,” she thought to herself.

She flipped the phone back around and checked her signal. Nothing. Not even a single bar that would give her the slightest chance to get in touch with Dean and Sam. She looked around the dark, damp space and located where she had apparently gone wrong. The remains of what used to be a staircase clung precariously just below the door she had ran through, but was too high up for her to easily reach it. She swept her gaze across the small room and noticed a small window about eight feet off the ground. Not too high, but in her current condition, it would take some work to get to.

There was a large desk and a few small crates she could use to get to it, but she realized that none of it would matter if she didn't get the wooden shard out of her side. She wasn't sure what was more dangerous; leaving it there and catching it on something while she was moving stuff around or pulling it out and possibly bleeding out where she stood. It was time to make a decision, and Y/N was pretty sure it would be a lose/lose situation.

When Y/N finally found the Winchesters again, it had been during a time of her life when she’d felt the most alone. Her parents were gone, Bobby was gone, Pastor Jim was gone...but she heard rumors that Sam and Dean were still roaming around, and had decided to follow the whispers. Her boys...she’d been desperate to find them, and the moment she first saw Dean again, her heart had nearly jumped in her throat. He was still her Dean...sunkissed and freckled, his green eyes bright in the afternoon light. But there was something different about him, a hard edge that wasn’t there before; an exhaustion that had been nothing but a mere shadow when they were younger. She had wanted to reach out and smooth the worry lines from his forehead and kiss the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He was Dean, as handsome as ever and even more of a smart ass, but he also seemed infinitely older. It was as if the weight of the world was literally on his shoulders.

I guess in a way it was. I can't say I was ever gentle with the Winchesters, and it showed. ...I need to make a note to apologize to them for that...anyway, Y/N coming back to them had been the best thing that could have happened to either of them, especially Dean. Why she'd left to start with had become fuzzy for both of them. It didn't really matter anymore, and the important thing was that they were together. The three of them were inseparable yet again, and Y/N had come to realize just how much she loved and needed Dean.

Dean had taken more convincing. Don't misunderstand, it wasn't that Dean didn't love Y/N. No, no, it wasn't that at all. It was that Dean didn't think he deserved her, which is truly a classic Winchester trait.

And before you say anything, I know...I'm God, I made them that way, it's my fault. Well, until you yourself are a god, maybe keep your comments to yourself, peanut gallery.

Anyway, it took some convincing, but Y/N managed to convince Dean that he was good enough. And the rest, up until this point, was history.

As per usual, though, emotions had run wild. I don't want to jump ahead...maybe I should let Y/N explain it herself, I wasn't really paying attention to most of it.

What? Don't look at me like that, even if I can see and hear everything doesn't mean I want to.

Now, back to the story…

Y/N looked down at her side again as she contemplated how she was going to do this now that she'd decided to remove the piece of wood. She was going against her better judgement, but it had become pretty evident that she wasn't going to be able to move around well when she'd tried stepping away from the beam. Just walking was torture, and although removing a giant splinter that may or may not be holding her organs in place may have been a bad idea, if she didn't pull it out she would likely die where she was anyway.

She gently probed the wood, ever so slightly running her fingers down the length to check which way the grain was going. Pulling it out was going to hurt, but if she pulled it from the wrong direction she was going to have a whole new set of problems. The next problem she encountered was that the wood had not only gone through her side, but also her shirt. She carefully slipped both arms out of the flannel, then tore the sleeve off the side opposite the wood. She was going to have to be quick if she was going to even remotely try to staunch the blood flow once she pulled it out. She wrapped both hands around the front end of the splinter, and for a brief moment, Dean’s face flashed in front of her face. “I guess that’s what they mean by your life flashing before your eyes”, she thought to herself, then braced herself and pulled. The sound that left her was inhuman, and for an agonizingly long minute, she thought she was going to pass out. She sucked in air in hitching breaths, unable to control the sobs that were escaping her, and let the now bloody shard of wood roll out of her hands and onto the floor. She hurriedly shoved the torn shirt into the hole now in her side and let loose another almost primal scream.

“It’s okay, it’s okay...it’s out, it’s gone, now I just have to climb out of that window. It’s okay, it’s okay,” she repeated it like a mantra as she tore another strip off of her shirt, folded the large piece into a thick square, then tied it in place with the smaller strip. Her hands were slick with blood and it took her three tries before she was able to get it tight enough to stay. She leaned heavily against the beam and tilted her head back, her eyes shut. She shouldn’t even be here. If she had just let Dean explain himself before getting in a huff and storming off, trying to prove something she didn’t have to prove, she wouldn’t be in a dark basement, bloody and alone. She didn’t even manage to get the vampire she had gone after, and to top it off, she was pretty sure Sam and Dean didn’t know where she went.

She took a deep breath and tried to force the image of Dean out of her mind so she could concentrate on getting out of the basement. She slowly began to make her way to the desk, each step more excruciating than the last. By the time she reached it, sweat was pouring down her face and her vision was beginning to blur. A shiver passed through her as her hand traveled slowly to the soaked through makeshift bandage. With nowhere else to go, the blood had begun to drip down her side, and she grimaced at the warm, sticky tracks it left as it began to soak into the waistband of her jeans. “Dammit…” she whispered into the darkness.

She shuffled around to the far end of the desk. She would need to push it about five feet to the left and then a couple feet back to even remotely have a chance of reaching the window. She braced herself against the worn edge of the desk and pushed as hard as she could. Her still bloody hands slipped but she caught herself and pushed against the desk again. This time, it moved with a groan and she felt like cheering. She pushed again, and the desk shifted another few inches. The room began to spin, and Y/N stopped, her hands flat on the desktop, and tried to collect herself. Sweat rolled into her eye and she swore under her breath as it stung, blurring her vision more than it already was.

“Listen, God, I don't ask for a whole lot. Truthfully, I probably don’t deserve much...I cuss like a sailor, I drink too much, I have had way too many one night stands for it to be healthy, sometimes I sneak cigarettes when Sam and Dean aren’t paying attention, and let’s be real honest...the codependency between me and Dean is as bad if not worse than him and Sam. But I do some good...I help people, and I don’t really expect anything for it. I just...I need outta here, okay? Even if it’s meant for me to die, please don’t let me die alone in this basement. I can’t go out that way, okay? Help a girl out a little, just this once.”

She mustered all the strength she could and shoved one final time. The desk scraped across the floor, gouging tracks along the dirt as it went, before it hit the wall with a resounding thud. Y/N stood and looked at it with wide eyes, unsure how she got it to move that far that quickly, but decided not to question it. A quick glance at the distance between the desk and the window confirmed that it was still a little too high to reach, but she thought that if she used one of the crates, she could probably bust out the window and make it out. She turned to retrieve the crate she had seen earlier and a sharp twinge of pain doubled her over, and a fresh river of blood rushed down her side. Her knees buckled and she hit the floor with a bone rattling thud. For a moment she thought she might stay conscious, but everything began to fade to gray before her eyes rolled back and everything turned black. The last thing she felt was the cold dirt against her cheek as unconsciousness took over.

Okay, so this doesn’t look great for Y/N, and she didn’t really explain what happened with her and Dean. In the end, I guess that part doesn’t matter as much, but it is why she ended up here so….maybe we should recap.

It started with Dean not letting Y/N go with them to what they thought was the vamp nest. She had told him three separate times that he and Sam were going to go the wrong way, but every time Dean had been adamant that they were right, and that she would absolutely not be going with them. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, when they’d come home empty handed and irritable, Dean had insisted they all go to the bar. Sam had told Y/N that they had heard one of the newer vampires hung out at that bar, and they figured they could get some information. It turned out that the vampire that they were looking for was a female, and that instead of just letting Sam handle it, Dean had waltzed over and laid on the Winchester charm.

Y/N had stormed out, and on the way back to the hotel, had had an epiphany. She knew where the nest was. And without giving Sam time to catch up with her, she’d hotwired a car and took off in the direction she believed their nest to be in. She’d been ignoring their calls and text messages the rest of the evening, and Dean had become furious. Sam had insisted they go after her, but in a moment of very un-Dean like behavior, Dean had refused. And Sam, against his better judgement, had stayed back with his brother. But as time passed and minutes turned into hours, Dean’s anger turned into worry.

“Track her phone,” Dean had demanded.

“What?” Sam had looked up from his computer where he was researching locations the vampires could be holed up in confusion.

“Track her damn phone, Sammy.”

So Sam did. And when the coordinates for her location also matched the coordinates that Sam had found for an abandoned house that had been in the center of several murder scenes, Dean’s stomach had dropped. He hadn't listened to her and his mistake had put her in danger.

“I'm sorry, Dean, I don't know how I missed this-”

“It doesn't matter now. Get your ass to the car,” he had grumbled and Sam had scrambled after him.

And this is where Y/N’s fate was in the air. Sam and Dean had broken multiple traffic laws to get to the house. Now it was just a matter of if they had arrived on time.

A groan slipped from Y/N as she began to stir. The sound of footsteps echoing to her left threw her into a panic, but she didn't have the energy to do more than shift slightly away from the sound.

“Y/N! Where are you?” She lifted her head at the sound of Sam’s voice, excitement replacing her anxiety. They'd found her. She tried to answer, but she was so tired. She let her head drop back to the ground and waited for him to get closer. “Y/N! Are you down there-oh shit!” The footsteps stopped abruptly as Sam slid to a halt at the top of the collapsed steps. “Dean, the stairs are gone!”

“Do you see her?” Dean's voice, though further away, resonated in Y/N’s ears. He'd come for her. She made a mental note to thank the man for his perseverance.

“No...but...Jesus, there's a lot of blood down there, Dean.”

Y/N looked up towards the door and saw Sam and Dean standing next to each other in the open doorway.

“That's a big drop, Sam. How are we going to get down there?”

“I don't know. Looks like there might be a window over there. Do you think she's here?”

“I don't know...but if that's her blood, she's in trouble. We've gotta get down there.” Dean leaned out over the broken landing to see if he could make the jump down without hurting himself. The remains of the staircase made it too dangerous for him to try and he cursed under his breath. “We’re going to have go outside and break that window to get in.”

Y/N felt the panic begin to spread through her again at the thought of Dean leaving her, even for a moment. “Dean!” She attempted to shout, but it came out a hoarse croak. “Dean!”

“Dude, did you hear that?” Dean squinted into the darkness.

“No...what?”

“Shhh! Listen…”

“Dean! Sam!” It was quiet, but Dean recognized the voice.

“She's down there! Y/N, we’re coming! We have to go in through the window, okay? I'll be right there, hold on!”

Y/N felt a tear roll down her cheek as Sam and Dean’s footsteps slowly faded as they ran to go around to the basement window. She wasn't sure if it was because she was relieved they were there, because she'd lost sight of Dean, or if it was from the pain that had taken over every other sense. She was so tired.

She rolled her head to the side and saw two large shadows cross in front of it and smiled. Dean had found her. Everything else seemed so silly now.

“Y/N, we’re coming, sweetheart, hang in there! We just have to bust in this window.”

“Okay…” she whispered, and let her eyes slip shut slowly. She heard a dull thud and Dean’s muffled son of a bitch, and couldn't help but chuckle. If she could just hang on a few more minutes, she'd be fine. Dean was going to save her. She heard another thud and looked back up at the window.

“Sam, why is it not breaking?!”

“I don't know! Maybe they used safety glass instead of regular glass.”

“Why the fuck would someone do that in a normal, run of the mill house?”

“I don't freaking know!”

Y/N frowned as the window began to get fuzzy, and she noticed how cold she was. Dean should have been inside by now. Her eyelids slipped shut, and the last thing she heard was the delicate tinkling sound of glass as it shattered, pieces of it raining down on the desk below.

Well, that's it.

That's the end.

What's that?

Oh, you want to know what happened? Now see, I told you when this started that I was sticking with Y/N, and her part of the story is done.

Come on, don't be upset with me. No doubt - endings are hard. But then again… nothing ever really ends, does it?

Listen, the point of this story was not about how it ended, not really. It was more about how life with the Winchesters seemed to welcome this...you could say…”destructive chaos”. Especially when you're an important part of their lives. The more important you are, the closer to the storm…or whatever. But it's not their fault.

Wait, no, don't you go pointing fingers at me. I didn't have a choice. With great power comes great responsibility.

...Is that from Spider-Man? Doesn't really matter since I'm the reason Spider-Man exists anyway, so...there's that.

Anyway...that's it. I guess you'll have to stick around and see if Dean ever decides to tell his side of it.

….You're still here. I don't have anything else. That's it, that's the story. So unless you would like a rousing rendition of Hallelujah, I just learned it on guitar, then there's nothing else. Go. Go on. Go do whatever it is humans do, okay? Just don't murder anyone.

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites @justanotherdeangirl @smalltowndivaj @captainradicalpassion

Dean Only: @lavieenlex @highonpastries @akshi8278 @valkyrieslament

#mama's100quotechallenge #supernatural fanfiction #chuck shurley #dean winchester #sam winchester #reader insert

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