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liliesoftherain · 5 years ago

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Ground Zero reads Thirst Tweets

A/N: Hey guys, this is a collab with @pinky-the-elephant-room !! This is the first part, and the second part can be found here! Her part is NSFW so since i’m a SFW blog we thought it would be best to split the parts! So here’s my contribution!

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

You walked inside the studio, thanking the heavens that it was cooler than it was outside. Greeting the producers of the setup, you gladly made your way by the set to see two stools placed side-by-side in front of a blue backdrop.

“Hello, Seize-san! Thank you so much for coming in today, I am Hana and I’m here to help you through this!” You grinned at the young woman who walked up to you. She was short stature and plump figure and gave off the impression of a warm and welcoming personality. Instantly putting you at ease.

“Thank you so much for having me! It’s an honor to be showcased here, along with another hero! You guys are truly kind to grant the opportunity to work alongside you, and please, call me (l/n).”

She nodded enthusiastically, grinning at the praise from such a top hero as yourself.

“Thank you again, (l/n)-san, come let’s get you ready for the camera! Are you in need of anything to drink, anything to snack on?”

“No ma’am, I am fine! I’m just ready for the shoot!”

“As is your partner!”

You both shared a laugh, both knowing the person you were recording with today was the opposite of ready for this.

“Oh, I’m sure that is the case, ma’am, where is he by the way?”

“He’s right behind you, stupid.”

You turned to see the annoyed blonde behind you, being escorted to the seating area close to where you were being led.

“Ah Ground Zero, good to see you haven’t blown anything up yet.”

“Shove off, hurry up so we can get this over with.”

You laughed, waving him off as the members looked on with concern.

“Don’t be rude, Bakugou! I’ll be there with you soon enough; all you have to do is be good and wait for me.” You winked, eyeing him up and down before turning back around, allowing Hana to guide you off towards your station to get ready.

The makeup artists just refreshed your makeup and made you ready for the video. You came out of the dressing room, dressed in your usual hero costume but looking less like you’ve been running through the streets of Tokyo. Bakugou was in usual costume but without his hand gauntlet.

“Okay you two, we’d like to thank you for taking the time to come on set and do this showing. These tweets are real, and we just want your genuine reaction from them! We’ll try to limit the cuts to be able to ensure that real response, and don’t be afraid to let loose! These are Thirst Tweets for a reason!”

You laughed along with everyone else, except Bakugou who looked a little annoyed by the entire thing. You gave him a slight shove with your shoulders, biting your lip subtly as his gaze locked onto yours.

“Cheer up already, this is supposed to be fun. What, do you not want to be here with me?”

“That’s not--Shut up, shitty woman. Just get ready.” he huffed, glancing away from your stare as he mumbled back.

“Okay, starting in 3, 2…,” The cameraman pointed instead of saying one, signaling the tape was now rolling. You beamed at the camera, working your charm as you gave a little wave.

“Hi, guys! I’m, (l/n) (y/n), or better yet, Seize!”

“And I’m Bakugou Katsuki, Ground Zero.”

“And today we’re reading…,” you trailed off, looking expectantly at your partner.

“Thirst Tweets.”

“You could be a little more enthusiastic you know.”

“Oi, shut it!”

You giggle, looking deviously at the camera before swiping his mug-shaped container.

“Oi, what are you-”

“Let’s see what people are saying about our dear Ground Zero, hm? That’s alright with everyone else, right?”

The crew joyfully agreed at the twist, and with their approval, you shoved your container in Katsuki’s chest.

“All right, let’s see,” You snorted, slapping Bakugou’s shoulder as you read the first tweet, “‘I would love to be able to rip that Hero suit right off of Ground Zero and rub my face along those God-like abs. Can a man be any hotter!? Have you seen his moobs!? *dROOLING*”

“Ha!?” Bakugou looked at the tweet with narrowed eyes before looking back at the camera, “Do you know how expensive this hero suit is!? You ain't ripping shit! Plus, what the hell are moobs?”

“Oh Bakugou, half of the world's population would love to rip that suit off, myself included. Plus, those are your man boobs, and they are absolutely correct, you have the best titties I have ever seen!” You winked at the camera while throwing the paper over your shoulder, “NEXT!”

You gave your bucket a good shake, making eye contact with the confused blonde who was still stuck on your last comment.

“‘Y’all don’t understand what I would do just to have @GroundZero to choke me with a gloved hand. Or do anything to me really. He could hit me with his car, repeated use his quirk on me, give me paper cuts all over my body and throw me into a pool of lemon juice, and I’d beg for some more like yes zaddy **** my ***** up!,’ OH MY GOD.” You used one hand to hold your mouth in amusement, putting the bucket between your thighs so you could show the tweet with your now free hand.

“You have some pretty kinky fans, Bakugou,” you teased, waving the paper in his face as he grabbed your wrist to hold it steady, staring in disbelief.

“You all are disgusting, why in the fuck would anyone do that to you? Let alone me, who the hell do you think I am!?”

“I mean, you can’t judge, can you?”

He snaps his head to look at you, a heated glare on his face.

“The hell, of course, I can judge! These people want me to torture them, sick bastards.”

You laughed as Bakugou sucked in a sharp breath between clenched cheeks, you were thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

“NEXT!” You shouted, crumbling the paper and tossing it at Bakugou.

“How many of these are there?” He sighed, looking in your bucket in his hands and shaking it around.

“With the way you look there are bound to be a ton.”

“What-”

“‘If I were only able to take just Ground Zero’s jaw out on a date, I’d never be happier’ Oh that one isn’t so bad-”

“My jaw? What the hell-” He looked over your shoulder, reading the tweet.

You looked up and stared at the blessed jawline.

“That’s what it says, but I gotta disagree,” You grabbed his arm and squeezed it while smirking deviously into the camera, “These arms are better, I’d take these bad boys out for coffee over his jaw any day.”

Instead of shaking you off, you swore you felt Bakugou flex slightly under your hold and couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that overtook your face as you stared up at him through your eyelashes.

“Are you flexing, Ground Zero?”

“HAH!? NO WAY, READ THE NEXT DAMN TWEET AND GET OFF OF ME ALREADY.” He snatched his arm from your hold as you waved him off, grabbing the last tweet from the container.

“Aw guess there weren’t as many as I thought, we’re already reaching the end-”

“Good because I’m tired of these wackjobs.”

You scanned over the paper, unable to contain yourself as you busted out laughing. You knew Bakugou was glaring at you, but you couldn’t help it, you almost fell off your chair, having to once again grab his arm for support.

“This, I just- Oh my God, Bakugou you’re-HA!”

“Can you knock it off and read it before I blow your ass up!” He hissed at you, and you knew you shouldn’t have made the situation any worse than it was- but sometimes you can’t help yourself.

“Damn, I mean if you really wanna tap this ass Bakugou, how can I say no~?”

He growled lowly, glaring harshly at your face as you only winked in response.

“Watch it, (l/n)-”

“‘Ive always been straight BUT i wish ground zero would rip me apart like he did to tht one moth villain, n after tht I have literally never questioned my sexuality so hard, I would let tht man bury his **** so far inside my *** tht i become the Queen of the f**king gays, all hail to me, GZ’s b**tch.Thts it. Thts the tweet.’ HAA.”

You felt Bakugou tense beside you, and when you looked over you saw him shaking in anger.

“Oh what, it’s charming!” You slowed your laughter down to measly chuckles, catching your breath as you were wiping tears from your eyes.

“How is that god damn charming!?” He seethed.

“You know, I can see it.”

“See what?”

“You being gay-”

“HA!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING.”

You look back to the camera and give an innocent shrug.

“He could've fooled me, I swear I saw him checking out Deku a few missions back-” A small explosion cut you off, and you rolled your eyes.

“So dramatic, it’s no big deal. I check out Deku all the time too.”

“You fucking what?”

“Oh yea, I mean I check out Shoto too but Deku’s got a cute ass. What can I say-”

“You’re fucking pathetic.” He huffed, snapping his gaze away from where you sat.

“Sorry, was I overstepping? I’ll leave your man alone!” You teased, poking his thigh as you did.

“Goddammit (l/n), I’m not fucking gay for Deku!” He swatted your hand away, scooting as far away as he could from you.

Which wasn’t very far, seeing as he made no effort to move the stools away from each other.

“So you’re gay for-”

“NOBODY!”

“Okay okay!! Just read my tweets already, I know they’re getting antsy watching us just talk about your closeted sexuality!”

“...tch.”

You could practically see a vein popping out of his neck, and even though you were sure he was picturing murdering you in his mind, you couldn’t help but think of how sexy it was.

You watched as he unenthusiastically pulled out a piece of paper, bored eyes scanning till they narrowed.

“You’re fucking fans are worse than mine.”

“What! Read it, I wanna hear!”

“Do I have to-”

You cut him off with a sharp look of your own, wearing him down until he sighed and did as he was supposed to.

“‘I would pay any amount of money, or literally give up any organ-appendix, spleen, gallbladder, lungs, my damn heart, just so Seize can spit on my face and call me a worthless, good-for-nothing loser, then kick my body and walk away. It would be my honor and my greatest life accomplishment.’” He threw the paper in front of him as if it were burning his skin, once again staring at the camera in disgust.

“Wow,” You giggled, “I don’t even know how to respond. I don’t really think that’s worse than yours Bakugou, but thanks I guess?”

“Thanks!? That’s all you’re going to say? How about I kick your ass and call you a worthless shithead myself, would that turn on all you perverts watching this, ha!?”

You smacked his arm playfully as you tried to get him to calm down, but his heavy breathing was an indication he wasn’t having it.

“I’m sure it would-,” His head whipped to face you and you clicked your tongue at his behavior.

“Oh, c’mon don’t be a prude, these are juicy and I for one wanna keep hearing them! So, hurry up and read another one before you blow a gasket.”

“Whatever, this is fucking stupid.”

“Alright stupid, just keep going.”

He side-eyed you, grinding his teeth together in what you assumed was to hold back even more vulgar insults.

“‘Don’t kink shame me..’” Bakugou paused, a long sigh coming from him as he reluctantly continued, “...’Don’t kink shame me but it’s my goal in life to die by @Seizes thighs. Her thighs are so strong but soft looking and I swear they can crush me in an instant-’”

“Ohh that’s true. These can crush anyone.” You slapped your thighs for emphasis, a cheeky grin playing on your lips.

“Are you seriously proud of that?” He deadpanned at your joyful expression.

“Uh, yeah? What, a woman can’t be proud of her thunder thighs of steel! You're just jealous you’re not being crushed by these babies.”

“Why the fuck would I be jealous!?”

“Cause I have amazing thighs that any man would love to be in between-”

“Next fucking tweet,” Bakugou cut you off, “‘I will eat Seize ass with a spoon, be havin’ that as breakfast, lunch, and dinner n never get tired.’ Okay but seriously what the hell is wrong with you people? With a damn spoon?”

“It’s flattering almost, don’t you think? I would be their favorite meal that they never get tired of,” You look to the camera and wiggle your eyebrows, “I mean I don’t know if I’m down for that, but if you wanna snack sometime, link up with my manager-”

“Absolutely not, don’t give these perverts any more fucking ideas.”

“Okay, dad.”

“Quit being a damn brat and just accept that these are weird and not cute, for fucks sake!”

You look to the crew behind the camera, bowing your head a bit as you spoke.

“Sorry, you’re going to have a lot of bleeps because of this big lug.”

“DON’T IGNORE ME-”

“Read the next tweet,” you extend your words in a whiny voice, “I wanna hear what else people think about me!”

You watched as Bakugou clenched his hand before relaxing, reaching inside to pull out another folded paper.

“‘@Seize is the best ever. Strong and compassionate, honestly my favorite hero by far. She’s giving the other pros a run for their money, good job and keep it up!’. Tch at least we’re done with the weird ass shit. ”

“AWHHH, you guys are so sweet! I don’t know how I match up to other heroes-”

“Tch, she matches up just fine-”

“Well, if we’re talking about boobs, especially if you compare mine to yours, I don’t stand a chance!” You reached a hand over while your body was still facing the front and squeezed one of his pectorals.

“YOU HAD TO TURN THIS INTO SOMETHING FUCKING STUPID, DIDN’T YOU!?” He jerked away from you; eye twitching as he took ragged breaths.

“What, just stating the truth. Now, c’mon if we had the same number of tweets then this should be my last, why do I have to drag these out of you?”

“Shut the hell up,” He picked out the last piece of paper as he tossed the bucket on the ground, ignoring the way you complained about it. “‘Got damn,’ Holy hell I’m going to lose brain cells, ‘Got damn, Id suck a fart’...’suck a fart out of Seize’s ass and woul beg for more as she suffocates me, no cap. Lick her from those ankles to those thighs n back, I bet she tastes like one of those sour n sweet skittles wid the way she sweaty from beating others asses but good from the way she hot, and dat shit be the best shit u can taste. wont even say sorry, jus flip her over and eat that ass’...’#NomNomNom’”

“Wow, some of you guys are pretty creative. I mean, I can’t tell you what I taste like but if you wanna try it out, lemme know.” You giggled, winking at the camera as you made the ‘call me’ sign with your hands.

You were waiting for another blow up from the angry blonde beside you but were surprised to see him silent. He was clenching his jaw harder this time around, eyes narrowed in fuming slits and he shook slightly by how hard his body tensed. You were about to ask if he was okay when you got the signal to end it, so you ignored it for the moment as you gave a bright smile to the camera.

“Well, that seems to be the end of this little segment, boo!,” You gave a pout, before smiling again, jumping back up and tossing an arm around your cast-mate, “Thanks for having us on today, and to end on a serious note make sure you’re staying safe out there. We all care about every single one of you, that’s why we do stuff like this, to stay connected! Have fun, be safe, and remember, be heroes! This has been Seize, along with,”

“Ground Zero.”

“Bye!”

“Cut!”

As soon as it was over, you were thrown off Bakugo’s shoulders as he stood up abruptly. You looked over in worry as he rigidly walked off and you wondered what had went wrong.

During most heavy-duty operations, which are the only type of operations you both worked together, Bakugou was always silent and calculating. He angered easily, and the time to fear him most is becomes quiet. Making a villain piss his pants with his yelling was a skill indeed, but when a villain saw that angered and dark gaze, that’s when they should be terrified.

You tried to follow him, but you were immediately swarmed by your manager who had apologized for arriving late.

“Yes, it is alright! I understand I was able to start perfectly fine, it’s no trouble at all.”

You didn’t listen to his answer, scanning the crowd to realize you had lost the pro.

“Dammit.”

“Ne, (l/n)-sama is there something wrong?”

“No,” You shook your head with a sigh, “Nothing at all.”

-----------------------------

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give-jack-a-lightsaber · 5 years ago

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Cool... Bruises? (Chicago Fire)

A/N: I’m back baby (?) I had this idea a few weeks ago but last night a saw it in my notes and started writing it! Just like that... I wish that could happen to me with college stuff but nope. Anyway, I tried a new way of writing that involved not using “Y/N” and making it gender neutral! It was a hard but gratifying experience, I hope you like it!

Word count: 1546

Firehouse 51. You have been here for a month and a half and saying that it was the greatest house you ever worked in was the smallest compliment you could think of. This was your third, and hopefully last, firehouse in your ten years of being a firefighter.

Why a firefighter? It didn't run in the family, you weren't saved by one of them, you didn't get excited by the adrenaline of the dangers that came with... No, none of that. You just lived your whole childhood in front of a firehouse and seeing them run to the trucks whenever the alarm sounded, with rain, snow or in the middle of a heatwave, to help a complete stranger who needed it was all it took for you to know that when you grew up you wanted to love your job as much as them and if in the same time you could be helping someone, better. So when you graduated from high school, you went straight to the fire academy and you loved it.

Now 10 years later you still loved the job with all your heart and the schedule helped with your second job that it was as gratifying as the first one: a tattoo artist.

You loved drawing your whole life, which is why your friends and family were kinda surprised that you didn't follow an art or design type of career. But nowadays it was as important for you as being a firefighter. It was your way of interacting with complete strangers without the fire or a halligan in the middle, and also an escape for your mind from bad calls or stupid discussions with your colleagues.

________

It was a completely normal Friday... except for it really wasn't. The whole past week, in and out of work, you started to notice that your coworkers (that luckily you can also call your friends) were acting strange towards you. At first not everyone was like this, if you don't remember wrong the first you noticed acting like this was Cruz, but now the whole shift was starting to whisper around you, stared at you worriedly and asking you things like "how are you been lately?" or "everything okay at home?".

'Maybe they're joking with me because I'm a newbie', you thought, although is kinda strange because you been with them for almost two months... Still, you decided to ignore it but if it did get worse you will intervene.

After the everyday reunion with the chief all went straight to have breakfast but you needed a quick detour to get your vitamins from your locker. Entering the common room you went straight to get a glass of water, popped your vitamins in your mouth and grabbed a plate for your breakfast.

"What'd you take?" Herrmann asked beside you.

"Vicodin. You can all call me Dr. House now" you joked and faked a limp in your way to the table. You knew it was a lame joke but you also knew that Brett and Capp would have laughed at that, so when you looked up from the plate and saw everyone staring at you with long and saddened faces you couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay, what is going on with all you?", you asked standing up from the table and moving to the door so you would have a view of everyone, "did I do something to bother you guys?".

Immediately a chorus of "no", "not your fault", "hey don't blame yourself" invaded the room and surprisedly were cut off by chief Boden.

"You did nothing wrong kid, but it has come to my attention that some of your coworkers are worried about your well-being, and I know you still feel like the new face here and maybe you can't open up to us yet, but we are here for you when you are ready" he said looking at you with kind eyes.

"Uh" you stared at everyone for a few seconds, searching for words to describe how you felt right now. "I don't want to be disrespectful to you chief or anyone but... What the hell are you talking about?".

"Come on, Cruz saw them when you were changing in the locker room" chastised Severide while frowning at you.

"Saw what?" you questioned, getting confused more and more.

"The bruises!" Joe yelped, "I saw a big ass bruise in your left leg. You can stop lying now".

"Bruises? Wha-" that's when you realized what was this about. Oh boy... "It's not a bruise-".

"Nah don't come at me with this crap" Herrmann halt you, "you didn't fall nor got hit by anything in the lasts two weeks and Cruz said those looked like a big deal so start talking".

"Hey you don't go threatening people who need help" snapped Brett at the grey haired man.

"Sylvie is right, is a sensitive matter that needs sensitive-" stated Casey before being cut off by the comments of everyone present in the room.

"Guys, really is not what you think of" you protested but by now the discussion of treating the "problem" with a delicate or hard hand was swallowing your voice completely.

Then a crazy idea came to you and you thought 'what the hell, this is already out of my control'. You felt through your uniform pants and silently cheered and thanked your past you for putting your biker shorts underneath.

Big inhale and...

"HEY!!" you shouted with all your lung capacity, that thankfully managed to get everyone quiet.

"It's not a bruise and-" you started but stopped to send a threatening look towards Mouch who was about to interrupt, "AND I can prove it". Finished that sentence you started to unbuckle your belt even if you could feel their eyes, many many eyes, on you.

"What are you..." Stella trailed off with a confused chuckle.

"I am not bruised" you stated just before pulling your pants downand waiting quietly for the reactions. Every single one was amazing to see, the pants down technique was totally worth it.

"Goddammit Joe you don't know the difference between a bruise and a tattoo?!" roared Herrmann looking at the firefighter in question.

"H-how am I supposed to know?!! Literally the whole leg is tattooed and I just saw a glimpse of it in the locker room!" Joe excused himself while pointing at your leg.

"You can put your pants back on" sighed the Chief and left the room.

___________

"Those are some nice tattoos" commented Matt, now all sit down eating breakfast.

"Thank you, I designed all myself but just tattooed the parts in my leg. The thigh section was done by a colleague" you beamed at him. "I'm really proud of it".

"Wait, are you a tattoo artist? That is so cool" marveled Brett. "For how long? Do you work of it?".

"Well I started when I got out of the academy, so around 10 years. And yes, a friend and I have a little tattoo shop in Little Village" you informed them.

"How come we never knew about this? You been here for a month and a half!" Stella sputtered while shaking her head.

"When I came here you guys where dealing with a wannabe commissioner. I guess being under a microscope didn't leave us much time to socialize and when the situation passed we had lived together some things that made us become closer, even if we didn't know each other fully" you expressed. "Like for real, I never thought that a firehouse family could be this strong and attentive of your own, but today's misunderstanding was the cherry on the top. You truly are amazing ".

_________

A few calls through the day went past and before they noticed the shift had ended and they were going straight to Molly's to share with their fellow first responders the now top 1 story from firehouse 51: you minus pants.

You were thrilled. Yeah.

"Yes, keep laughing. At least I'm going to be a famous legend in the 51" you rolled your eyes at the people in the table, them being Brett, Kidd, Severide and 21st precinct boys Jay Halstead, Kevin Atwater and Adam Ruzek.

"For pulling your pants down?" asked Atwater chuckling with his partners, receiving a middle finger from your part.

"Hey, can we get discounts in your tattoo house now or do I have to arrest you for exhibitionism?" Jay asked you.

"What, you want a tattoo of Captain America's ass, soldier boy?" you smirked at him, "and if you don't stop laughing I'll charge you with a 10% plus".

"Copy that", they laughed and keep joking around for about an hour before you stood up.

"Okay ladies and gents, is time for me to go, I have an early client tomorrow" you stated while stretching your arms. "Talk to you later, bye".

A chorus of soft "bye" and "good night" were heard, but when you were going towards the front door a booming voice broke through.

"Hey, I didn't get to see that famous tattoo, could you do that pant trick here?" Adam yelled, trying poorly to hide a smile.

You froze for a second, slowly turned to him with a smirk in your face and in your cockiest voice ever you answered him.

"You wish".

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tehohaews · 4 years ago

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2020 CREATOR WRAP: FAVORITE WORKS

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

Thank you soooo much Nuria @taytawan for tagging me 🥺💖and ignore how late this is oops

Okay so 2020 is the year that I returned to “the internet” and I’m grateful cause otherwise I wouldn’t get to know all of you lovely people.Thank you for existing and making me feel like I belong somewhere 💖💖 So, along with my works I'm also gonna mention some of my favorite people and their works here and If you’ve ever made me smile you’re here and I love you <3

@snugglesweaters Terryyyyyyy. My closest friend here 🥺 I’ve never told you this but if it wasn’t for you,I doubt I would’ve lasted this long here. It's nice knowing someone as clueless and a clown like me. I can talk to you about anything and I feel like we have similar views on stuffs.I love making random references to fics and knowing that you’ll get it cause we kind of read the same fics. I love this tine glitter fic of yours (yes tine glitter fic), obviously this cause (vampire) bright in a beanie AND the coffee shop au hc that only I know about hehe. I love your (almost) phd brain and hope you’re doing well in your dissertation. YOU CAN DO IT DW. And may you stay healthy,hydrated,safe and happy in the coming year 😊💖 I love you soooooooo muchhhhhhh 💖💖💖

@lesbian-earn Mayyyyy!!!. My co president of the short people supremacy club. You are so sweet and kind and thank you for reaching out to me that one day I was feeling a bit anxious.It’s always lovely to see you on my activity and on the dash. Like I once said, you remind me of sunshine and ilu 💖💖 Hope that the next year is kind to you and you’ll do well in your uni stuffs dw, I know you can.💖 Also I’ve said this before but i looooveeee this fic of yours and when I found out it was you dfjidfjidfidf

@taytawan Nuriaaaaaaa 💖💖 You say that I’m kind but it’s always because you are so sweet and talented that I can’t help screaming about your works everytime I see them. If I’m not mistaken, the name Nuria comes from the word Nur meaning light. You make the world brighter and a better place by your presence and I’ve said this before but really, it would’ve been very lonely without you in this 2g circus. I love these two sets of yours (I mean I did write an essay in the tags when I saw this) .Thank you for everything, I love you and I hope that you remain safe and happy in the coming year 💖💖 (Also join mine and May's short people club,Terry isn't invited ofc jdjsdjasjij)

@brightwinfilm NATH efhifhihis my (almost) birthday twin. LISTEN we’re gonna have so much fun in March, 1) Itsay part 2 AND your birthday 2)Sarawat’s birthday 3) My birthday and 4)since we’re here let’s just say Tine’s birthday is in March too hehehe. Thank you for all the lovely sarawatine and brightwin content you make, they never fail to make me smile.I love this set of yours and this also cause hehehe i WILL bring this back muhahhaa.You’re a wonderful person and you make the world a better place. Take care of yourself and I hope that you are always happy,healthy and safe 💖 i love youuu

@ryudian My go to person when I need any updates. You are SO HELPFUL and so NICE. I love going to your blog and seeing your st dolls and all the crazy stuffs you do because of bw. And I absolutely loved what you did with the oishi drinks here. May you be happy and safe in the coming year and stop spending so much money on merch I'm worried you'll go bankrupt

@komari-maxx I love seeing you on my activity and I love your st dolls and fics, specially this fruity4 one cause sdhididhid you included my hc of them arguing over the colour on lunch.This totally happened no one can change my mind. Hope you'll be happy (with your st dolls hehe) in the coming year

@teh-ohaew *tarn voice* Eyy TAY djidjijid hehe oops. Tay and Teh sound so similar specially in tarn's voice. Omg Teh Tay besties. TAYYYYY I love youuuu and I love reading your tags and seeing you on my dash except when you and Ayesha go crazy sdhusdh hehe jk. You are so nice and I love this sarawatine ig hc of yours. Hope you have a lovely year ahead and remain happy,healthy and safe. Don't forget to take care of yourself (by that I mean listen to the itsay original score on repeat)

@metawin JAYYYYY. I still remember the first time I came across your blog, it was when you were (probably) rewatching wyel and blogging about it crazily. I was laughing so hard at those and then you followed me back and I still to this day have no idea why. It's comforting seeing your posts in the tags and the dash and I absolutely love this itsay set of yours. You are so talented and lovely and I hope that you have a wonderful year ahead. Lots of love <3333

@gremlinmetawin Ayesha bb 🥺🥺 You were the first person who interacted with me here and I love you for that. It's lovely seeing you in my dash and thank you for tagging me in tag games, I have fun doing them 💖💖 tbh I know like 3 Ayeshas irl but you are the loveliest and kindest of them all. Hope that the next year is kind to you,bring you happiness and you finally finish all those unwatched shows

@khaotungthanawat SAMMMMM Have I said that you are SO TALENTED this week? although tbh you deserve to hear that everyday. You always say that it's nothing but no, you ARE talented and kind. It's wonderful seeing your posts ( I feel like you're everywhere nowadays another proof that you work hard). You are a blessing to this world and I hope for you to be always happy and safe 💖💖.I love this st set, this itsay one and the tags of this post 😂😂 I will never not laugh at this.If this doesn't happen in the st special special askdkdsks

@metawwin ALIIIIIIIII, queen of parallels djijidjias. I love going through your blog and seeing all your 2g stuffs.I absolutely adore this set of yours. You are so talented and you make the world a happier place <3 I love youuuuu and I hope you're staying hydrated,taking care of yourself and doing the things you love. You deserve all the love and happiness in the world 💖💖

@wirapong AISHIIIIII Hope you're doing well. I've screamed about this already BUT this club drama fic? lives in my head rent free. Also I love all your soft baby wat fics cause WAT IS A BABY. Glad we have Tine as the President of the Sarawat protection squad. I love your writing. you're so talented and I hope that the coming year will bring you happiness <33

@acequinz Hi Ace!! I love your incorrect quotes sideblog and I love your fics, specially this, this and this. You're a lovely person and I hope that you have a wonderful year ahead.

@bisexualrep DORAAAA We haven't talked in a while but I smile whenever I see you in my activities. You are maybe the 4th person who followed me here and it still feels weird cause this and this? some of my fav wyel fics of all time. It's lovely reading your tags, they are so cheerful <3 Hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself. You deserve to be happy always 💖💖

Omg this is so long. If you're still here, here are some of the works that I'm proud of. 1)This itsay set. This was my first time doing big gifs and although this is loooong I like how this turned out, specially the colouring. 2) This cause do I do anything except 2g shitposting? No <3 I had this idea even before s2g aired but decided to wait so that I have more shots from s2g and I'm glad I did cause Earn basically got confirmed as a wlw so (Also special thanks to Terry cause the Man and Air hc were hers,her phd brain ikr) 3)This cause dcjsdjidi SARAWATINE SOULMATES. I love how the colouring turned out despite the fact that ps crashed halfway and I lost the gifs i spent 2 hours colouring. I tried to do this with scenes from the series only but couldn't cause wHen YoU aRe wItH yOuR cAmeRA SHOW US goddammit. If this was ao3 this would've been tagged as Tine teepakorn loves Sarawat guntithanon xD 4) Still2gether textposts obviously. I KNOW that 90% people follow me for my 2g shitposting and I got an ask once saying how were they so accurate and the reason for that is I spent HOURS on these. Atfirst it took a long time but after a while I got the hang of it. It was fun (though sometimes tiring) to make these after each ep aired. I'm proud of it and the fact that I managed to do 13 parts? gsjsdjsj 5) Still2gether subs that looks fake but aren't. shutup this was my first time giffing but it was funnnnn looking for the (canon) crack parts after every ep aired.

Also,thank you to all the lovely people who likes and reblogs my posts, I do see you and I love you all <33

Tagging: If you’re here then consider yourself tagged if you wanna do this or to anyone who sees this on the dash

#i wrote this at 4 am so this might not make sense #but anyway #HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE #tag game

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fuzzyporcupine · 4 years ago

Text

lead me with your hands tied | chapter 6

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

rating: explicit

word count: 13,130

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 6:

The knock at the door had woken him with a start, loud and forceful as it echoed through the tiny room. The light shining in from the singular window blinded his sight, straining the already sleep-addled eyes. It couldn’t have been soon after dawn, and he had no idea who could possibly need to disturb him this early. Levi grumbled lowly as he sat up in the bed, throwing the furs to the side. Bare feet slid onto the stone floor, pale toes flexing on the ground. Dressed in only a thin white shift to cover his nakedness, Levi stepped to the large door. He unlocked it with quick, deft fingers, sliding the thick iron rod out of the latch.

The hinges squeaked painfully as he tugged the entrance open. Levi expected to be greeted by an annoyed Petra, maybe even the frightened servant girl, though the latter seemed highly unlikely given the fright he had caused her. However, neither was standing beyond the entryway. The only people meeting his gaze were the goddamned Royal Guard.

A cold sweat began to form on the back of his neck as a twitchy thumb tucked into a sweaty palm. The men were decorated with fine golden armor and a green silken cloak that wrapped around their wide shoulders. The uniform was customary of the Royal Guard and signified their importance to the court. His eyes flicked down to the long silver swords and black slender rifles strapped menacingly to the soldiers’ sides and backs. Swallowing hard, Levi lifted his gaze back to brave the stone-faced men. He didn’t know what could have possibly warranted the Royal Guard to arrive at his doorstep. Perhaps Eren did tell his father of Levi’s disrespect inside the studio. Perhaps this was a reckoning.

The thought had Levi’s throat tightening.

Regardless, Levi refused to be afraid. Fear was a terrible emotion. One that never seemed to do anything but scramble the brain and cause unneeded anxiety. He’d boarded that feeling up long ago and would be damned if he let it boil back up again.

One of the guards shuffled. “His Majesty requests your presence.” That sounded ominous.

He steeled himself, a pointed chin turned upwards, almost mocking. “May I be dressed or does His Majesty wish to see me prance about in my bedclothes?” If they were going to make an example of him, he’d rather it not be with his cock out.

The man’s gaze narrowed then drifted down to Levi’s bare legs. “Make haste. His Majesty does not like to wait.”

Levi grunted, quietly closing the door behind him as the guards moved to stand against the wall.

Well, wasn’t this just a right old mess?

A thought of jumping out the window and making a run for it briefly fluttered through his mind before he disregarded the idea entirely. He had no notion if the king intended something sinister or just wanted to chat. Levi decided it was not worth snapping his ankles over.

Pulling the shift over his head, Levi made quick work of getting dressed. If the king was truly impatient as the Royal Guard stated, then it was in his best interest to not dawdle.

The men were still standing outside when he exited the room. However, now he appeared to them much more decent - a linen shirt tucked nicely beneath the waist of his darkened breeches.

Without so much as a verbal cue, the Royal Guard began to march towards where Levi assumed the king was residing. He found it a good sign that the men were not dragging him along by the backs of his arms. At least they weren’t yet, anyway.

The grounds were ghostly as he was led through. Empty except for a few soldiers and a murder of crows squawking a venomous tune atop the ramparts. Leather boots sunk deep into the mud, the morning dew softening up the already well-trodden soil. It was impossible to tell which direction the guards were taking him based on the prints left in the dirt. There were so many of them, abandoned from weary horses being led to the stables and drunken soldiers stumbling in late from the tavern. Reminded him of a certain soaked fool whispering vulgar obscenities into his ear.

“I would teach you. If you begged.”

Just the memory of the words had Levi’s jaw clenching. He’d never begged for anything in his life. Not when there had been a knife pressed flush against his throat. Not when a stingy noble threatened to dock his pay. Not even when he watched the colors of Shiganshina toss flames onto everything he loved. Shit would sooner rain from the sky before Levi Ackerman begged of anything from that bastard.

“Through the door and up the stairs.” They’d stopped in front of one of the vast spherical towers attached to the curtain wall. Like a dark cloud on a stormy day, the structure cast a leaden shadow over Levi and the surrounding mud. He was close enough to the stone that if he looked up only brick and mortar would catch his gaze. Attached to the tower was a wooden door. Though not near as strong as the immense iron gate separating the village from the castle grounds, the entrance felt just as menacing. With a jaw still tightened, Levi strode forward and threw open the flimsy door with a hard tug.

The spiral staircase greeted him immediately, grey stone steps coated with a layer of dust and debris. Soft footsteps echoed as he advanced upward, almost loud enough to drown out the obnoxious beating in his chest. By the time he reached the top of the tower, his thighs were burning fiercely and an unattractive sweat had formed above his brow. The men below did not tell Levi where he should head once reaching the top, but it was not hard to decipher. A trio of Royal Guard stood behind the king as the slouching man observed the dwindling village from atop the wall. Levi approached carefully, still unsure if the encounter would end with him thrown from the battlements.

“I see the men have escorted you well.” The king continued to stare off into the distance as he spoke, voice mimicking the tiredness that dragged on the man’s expression. In the morning light, Levi saw the streaks of grey reflecting brightly against the dull brown on top of the king’s head. The war had aged the man, as most wars tended to do.

“They have, Your Majesty,” Levi confirmed.

The king hummed, thin hands gripping tightly around the stone. “I understand my son has proven to be quite difficult to work with.” Levi remained stone-faced and silent. He had no inkling of how to respond to such a loaded question. Should he remain quiet or let the king know how much of a complete idiot the prince was? Either choice seemed likely to offend. “Shall I find someone else more competent?” So, this was why the king sent for him. Not to toss him off the side of the wall or to swing a sword through his neck. But to humiliate him.

Rage rose in him like a tide receding from the shore, thumbnail digging an angry crescent into his palm. Levi’s skill had proven him to be more than competent as an artist. His portfolio saw proof of that. What he wasn’t, however, was a goddamned babysitter, especially to an overgrown child such as the prince.

“No,” he bit out dangerously. The king turned to face him then. “I’m the best damned painter in this entire bloody kingdom. By three months’ end, you’ll be able to see that for yourself.”

Are you fucking delirious?

That timeframe was impossible. Even with the best of clients, Levi typically wouldn’t have the piece delivered in under six months. And to cut that time in half? He had to be absolutely insane. That had to be it. Or maybe he just longed for death and wanted to feel the cool slice of a blade against his skin. Which might actually happen sooner rather than later. In his anger, Levi had taken several steps closer, prompting the Royal Guard to grab hold of the weapon hilts. The sight doused his anger like water over a fire. “Your Majesty,” he added quietly in the hopes that the soldiers would release their swords with the two words.

The king looked him up and down, an unimpressed stare settled within the wrinkles on the worn face. A hand was lifted and the sound of sheathed steel cut sharply through the air.

“By three months’ end,” the king said firmly. Goddammit, Ackerman. Levi nodded once, fist unclenching by his side. “You may leave.” He bowed his head, turning quickly on a booted heel. Before Levi could reach the archway, the king regarded him again. “And painter?” Levi cast a wary glance over his shoulder to find the man gazing back out again over the village. “Disrespect me again and I’ll have you flayed and dragged through the streets.”

Levi let out a nervous breath.

Of that, he had no doubt.

_______________________

Levi had not been waiting in the studio long before Petra arrived. She brought with her a remorseful expression and news that the young prince was suffering an unfortunate bout of nausea and would not be attending the session.

Like hell he wouldn’t, Levi thought as his feet marched him closer to Petra.

“Take me to his room,” he insisted, voice unyielding as the stone walls surrounding him.

“But, sir, the prince is-”

“Sleeping?” Levi interrupted. “It’s nearly midday, Ms. Ral.”

“Yes, I understand, but-”

“If the prince is well and truly ill I shall send for a doctor. Now, please.” He looked at her expectantly, watching the way a plump bottom lip wiggled in between her teeth. The woman could easily refuse him. He had not been hired to snoop into the prince’s room. Levi was there to paint, and Petra surely realized this. However, he had only a limited amount of time to complete what was seemingly an impossible portrait. One that he was certain would get him killed if it was not finished on time. He couldn’t allow Eren’s wankered morning after to place any undue setbacks on the schedule.

A tight sigh broke across her lips as she murmured, “Right this way, sir.” Levi’s shoulders relaxed as he followed the woman down the winding staircase. Her pace was brisk, hardly allowing him the opportunity to analyze the route they were taking. She said nothing as they ascended the great set of stairs in the foyer. Just continued marching until they had finally made it to a fine wooden door. “The prince is inside.”

His eyes fell to the small iron handle of the entrance and then to the golden keyhole. “Is it locked?”

Petra shook her head. “No, sir. His young Majesty only locks the door when…” She trailed off, cheeks flaring pink. Ah, Levi understood.

“Of course,” he muttered. Levi silently wondered why Eren would even bother with locks considering the scene he witnessed the night prior. “Thank you for the escort.” He raised a fist to the door, giving it two sharp knocks before closing his hand around the handle. Hopefully, the warning would be able to warn the prince of his arrival. If not, well, Levi wouldn’t necessarily be surprised.

“I shall let the guards know to ignore any screaming.”

Levi thanked her with a slight upturn of the lips as he pulled the door open and entered the bedroom.

The chambers were coated in a shadowy grey, the light from the window being held back by a thick curtain. A small table stood off to the side, a basket of uneaten fruit and a bronze pitcher sitting on top of the surface. A writing desk with a battered leg took up residence against the same wall. Miscellaneous papers were scattered everywhere atop the desk, leaving nary space vacant. Across the room, a large bed, about twice the size of his own, was fixed upon a risen platform of solid stone. Green silk cascaded around the poles holding up the canopy. Bundled in the middle amidst a pile of blankets and furs nestled the prince, a mess of brown hair sticking out from the depths of the sheets.

“Gods be kind, Petra. I said leave me be.” The voice didn’t hold quite the bite that he’s sure Eren was hoping, overly raspy from the man’s rambunctious night. Levi stepped closer to the talking lump, boots echoing off the stone floor as he went. He took in the figure moving slightly beneath the sheets, the gentle breathing causing the blankets to rise and fall in a steady motion. With swift hands, Levi gripped the coverings and ripped them from the bed, exposing the body beneath.

“Are you completely mad, you daft wench?!” Eren screamed, hands reaching out to recover the lost warmth. They paused, though, when the prince noticed who exactly had pulled the silken linens from the bed. “What are you doing here?” Eren asked, wincing as he pushed himself up into a sitting position against the plush pillows. “Come to ravage me in my bed chambers?”

“Get up,” he stated plainly, not in the mood for the prince’s teasing.

“Oh, I am up, artist.” Levi resisted the urge to strangle the bastard, biting the inside of his cheek as he marched over to the curtained window. The fabric was pulled back, and Eren threw up a quick hand against the light. “Gods, you’re fucking cruel.”

“Get up,” Levi reiterated, voice almost a growl as it snuck between clenched teeth. He felt like punching something, preferably the prince’s stupid, smug face.

“My, you are feisty today.” Eren grinned up wolfishly at Levi. “Did my father order you to speak so openly to me?”

“Your father ordered me to paint your portrait, Your Highness.” In only three months, he reminded himself. Though that fault fell on Levi’s own shoulders.

Eren yawned loudly, arms stretching high up into the air. The movement caused the man’s nightclothes to shift up, exposing thick, tan thighs. Levi tore his eyes away, a red heat tickling his neck. He silently cursed his embarrassment. Levi had seen a man naked before. Many men in fact. The communal baths were not exactly the place one would go expecting modesty. So, to have such a reaction to this complete pig of a man was humiliating. “I told you,” the prince said in between yawns, “that I would be bedridden today.”

Levi scoffed, mortification long forgotten as he stomped over to the edge of the bed. “I have promised your father a complete portrait in three fucking months. I do not intend to disappoint him.” His tone was dangerously deadly, causing Eren to nervously drop outstretched arms in a covered lap. “I expect you in the studio within the hour, Your Highness.” He turned away, leaving the prince momentarily speechless. Upon reaching the doorway, Levi paused, looking back over his shoulder to find Eren staring back in his direction with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“You’re the Prince of Shiganshina. Act like it.”

#ereri fanfic #ereri #fic: lead me with your hands tied #thespazzbot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot #attack on titan

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jaxl-road · 5 years ago

Text

The League of Extraordinary Rockstars, ch.2

Summary: LA is a hub for music and mutants, making it the perfect place for Motley Crue, Guns N’ Roses, and countless other mutant musicians to call home. But it’s not all easy, especially when it comes to finding a decent place to live. So what better solution than moving in together in the mansion of an immortal? Love, drama, and super powers. If nothing else, it’ll be interesting.

Chapter Warnings: Language, genderswap!Steven

AN: This is a collaboration between myself and @the–blackdahlia! It combines elements from her fic “It’s So Easy (And Other Lies)” (specifically her genderswapped!Steven) and my super powered GnR series. It is completely AU and ignores timelines like Woah, but hopefully you’ll have as much fun reading it as we’re having writing it! Let us know what you think!

~~~~~

It had been a couple weeks since Duff moved in with Slash and Stevie and in that time, he had sat on Slash probably a dozen times.

Stevie had mentioned before how most of the time Slash would camouflage in his sleep, but it was still hard to get used to. He would come home after a double shift and go to collapse on the couch only to land on a very disgruntled guitar player.

“Goddammit, can’t you fucking check before throwing yourself on the couch?”

“Can’t you go to sleep in your fucking room?!” Duff snapped back.

Slash wanted to rip his hair out. He had to grind his teeth together to keep from screaming about the number of times he’s had to deal with a drunken Stevie stumbling into his room to bawl about how she had too much love and too many crushes and they didn’t like her back and she was going to die alone. And because he was a fucking good friend, he would pet her head and try to soothe her until she finally fell asleep and he was stuck with a snoring glowstick lighting up his room.

So yes, he had been sleeping on the couch. But because, and he could not stress this enough, he was a good fucking friend, he couldn’t explain to Duff exactly why.

Living together was turning out to be a hell or an adjustment for the three rockers. Duff had shaken up their routine, giving them an extra person to get drunk with, which made Stevie’s already frazzled emotions even more haywire, not to mention the household hangovers they were suffering through each morning. It was easy with Tracii. He stayed out all night and slept all day, and honestly, Slash and Stevie had kinda felt sorry for him. But Duff was something different, and after one too many mornings of being awoken by Duff and Slash arguing, Stevie exploded.

“Enough!” She yelled at them. “I am going to stay the night someplace else so I can get some fucking sleep before work!”

That was three days ago, and this was the first night Duff and Slash had seen their roommate since she stormed out. Walking into the apartment, Stevie was pleased to see that the two boys looked properly chastised. Granted, their arguing hadn’t improved much during her three day exile, but Slash and Duff figured she didn’t need to know that.

"Hi boys," she smiled. "It’s a beautiful day. Aside from the freak thunderstorm yesterday," She flopped on the couch.

"Thought you moved out," Slash grumbled.

"Nonsense. I just stayed the night at Kelly's."

“Oh thank GOD,” the guitarist practically threw himself across Stevie’s lap, “I thought you were leaving forever!”

Duff shuffled over sitting next to her and looking very much like a kicked puppy, “You were gone for so long we didn’t think you were coming back and we missed you so much-”

“Holy shit you guys,” Stevie shook her head fondly, patting Slash’s head, “I was gone for three days! I just needed a long weekend away from your bickering-”

“He started it!” Two voices snapped simultaneously.

Eyebrow twitching in thinly veiled annoyance, Stevie grit her teeth and continued, “Whatever, my point is I need your arguments to at least be rescheduled to later in the day, alright?”

There was some minor grumbling.

"If you don't, Kelly's looking for a roommate. Or a fuck buddy that gets a free room." She smirked. She knew that would get them to chill out. "Now, I'm hungry. And I'm going to see a show tonight. You guys gonna join me?"

“Of course, but I gotta go to work,” Duff told her. “I’ll see you guys this evening.” He headed to his room to pull on his uniform, something nagging him in the back of his mind. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he tried to focus on making it through another shift at a job he hated.

The three roommates went to their various shitty jobs, each feeling impatient for the day when their music would finally pay the bills and they would have to deal with huffy customers telling them to cut their hair. Needless to say, by the time they reached the Whiskey for the show they were ready to let loose and have some fun. Tonight Motley Crue had managed to snag a headlining slot, Duff, Slash, and Stevie toasting their friends’ success and lamenting their own band’s slow growth in equal measure.

“We’re gonna make it, guys!” Stevie exclaimed, people around her moving away or shielding their eyes as she glowed with enthusiasm. She waved her empty glass excitedly, slurring slightly, “I mean, I mean the crowds have been getting wild for us! And the stuff we’ve recorded is fucking badass! It’s only a matter of time before we start bringing in the big bucks!”

“God, I hope so,” Slash sighed, “this starving artist shit is getting old.”

"Guess you could catch and eat a snake," someone said. Stevie turned and smiled.

"Kelly!" She gave him a hug.

"Hey glowstick," Kelly laughed. "You look rested."

"I am. Thank you." She kissed his cheek.

Duff smiled tensely as he gave Kelly a high five, “Hey man.”

Slash rolled his eyes as Kelly shot him a knowing look, grinning, “Sup guys. Word on the street is you’re having some domestic troubles,” he elbowed Stevie playfully, “This gal was lighting up the place when she first came over.”

“Yeah,” Duff grimaced as he admitted, “It’s taking some getting used to.”

“I can imagine,” Kelly raised an eyebrow. The first night Stevie had arrived on his doorstep he’d had to wear sunglasses as she ranted and raved and lamented about the whole situation, “I mean, you’ve all got annoying ass powers-” he ignored the three offended outcries, “-and you live in a shoebox. Of course you’re stepping on each others’ toes.”

"At least we don't have axl…" slash pointed out.

"Don't have me for what?" Axl said as he approached the group, Baz's arm around his shoulder.

"In our shoebox home," Stevie told him.

“Excuse you, I am a goddamn delight and any house would be lucky to have me!” the singer huffed.

“You tell ‘em, babe,” Baz grinned.

"When you yell, you'd blow down a wall…" Slash commented.

“Fuck you, my control is impeccable!” Axl growled and Kelly raised his hands before a fight could break out.

"Let's get some drinks," he told them. "I'm buying."

"My hero," Stevie laughed. Kelly had an arm around her waist. Izzy was sitting at a booth, which Kelly spotted and brought everyone over to him.

Raising his head, Izzy nodded in greeting, “Hey guys, here to see the Crue?” he gestured at the stage where Nikki was, as usual, on fire.

Laughing, Stevie slid into the booth next to him, “Yup! What are you doing over here all by your lonesome?”

“Brooding,” Axl, Baz, and Slash all answered simultaneously.

Glaring, Izzy huffed, “I was enjoying some peace for once in my life, fuck you very much.”

"Maybe later," Stevie giggles, making Izzy's cheeks burn bright red.

"Their act is lame," Axl rolled his eyes. "Fire again? Really?"

“I mean, you gotta respect their commitment to the brand,” Slash shrugged.

The group downed their drinks, bickering and joking and occasionally remembering to cheer for the Crue. Before they knew it, the set was finishing up, Stevie shining extra bright as they applauded the band as they left the stage.

Izzy glanced between Stevie and Duff with forced nonchalance, “So, how’s the living situation going?”

Shrugging, Stevie answered, “Getting better I guess. Duff’s still not used to Slash camouflaging with the couch,” she snickered.

Duff threw his arms in the air in exasperation, “Gee, I’m sorry I’m used to living in places where you don’t have to pat down every surface in case there’s a hidden guitarist there!”

“Apology accepted,” Slash grinned, the bassist shoving him as he laughed.

“Ugh, I just can’t wait until we can have some more space,” Stevie groaned, “I love you guys, but fuck man, some elbow room would be nice.”

Izzy, Axl, and Baz, nodded their heads sympathetically, their own living situations only marginally better than the trio’s. Meanwhile, Kelly hummed in consideration.

“You could always stay at my place for awhile if you want,” he shrugged.

Stevie giggled, slapping a hand over her mouth when she saw the group squint from her light, “Kelly,” she patted his shoulder, “that’s sweet of you dude, but you live in a shitty studio apartment in the slums. Just having me over was a stretch.”

“No, no,” Kelly shook his head, “I meant my other place.”

Silence stretched as six pairs of eyes stared at Kelly in confusion.

“....What?” Slash finally broke the silence.

“You know, my other place,” Kelly said casually, “the one on Mulholland?” When the stares continued, he furrowed his brows, “Have I never mentioned it before?”

“No,” Duff answered emphatically, “No you have not. What the Fuck?”

“Huh.” It was maybe a little annoying sometimes, but it wasn’t Kelly’s fault he couldn’t remember who he’d told what to. After all, the bassist was more or less immortal, his mutant healing factor fucking with his aging until he found himself stuck as a twenty-something for God only knew how long. So if his memory was a little sketchy, well, who could blame him?

The drugs and alcohol probably didn’t help either. But that was besides the point.

“Well, yeah. I have another place. It’s a house, got like, eleven bedrooms if I’m remembering correctly? It’s also got-”

“Woah, woah, woah, dude,” Baz waved his hands, “Hold up. Did you just say eleven bedrooms?”

“Give or take,” he shrugged.

“So…. it’s a mansion,” Axl stated, voice unnervingly blank, “You have a mansion.”

“I guess, yeah…”

As Axl sucked in a long, deep breath, Kelly realized that he had made a huge mistake.

“WHAT?!” It was honestly impressive how Axl managed to shriek at ear splitting levels without any of his mutant ability coming through. Still, even his human-level screeching had the group flinching.

The singer slammed his hands on the table, glasses shaking as he glared at Kelly in shock and fury, “You’re telling me that we’ve all be living on top of each other in fucking sqalor and this whole time you’ve had a goddamn mansion?”

“Who has a mansion?”

Kelly would give anything for Sebastian’s ability to teleport right now. Because when he turned around, he found the members of Motley Crue staring at him hungrily, and he suddenly felt like he was surrounded by hyenas.

He probably should have waited until it was just him and Stevie before mentioning the house.

"Uh, hi guys," Kelly laughed. "What brings you here?"

"You have a mansion and didn't tell us?" Tommy pouted. "I thought you loved us."

"Dude the 60s fucked my brain. I can't remember shit," Kelly laughed.

"Which 60s?" Vince smirked.

"Yes." Kelly nodded, dodging the question. "So, I'm just gonna go…"

He was half standing when Duff’s unfairly long arm shot out from across the table, palm landing solidly against the back of the booth to box Kelly in.

“Oh I think the fuck not,” he stated firmly, a quick rumble of thunder sounding through the dirty window behind him. The dramatic motherfucker.

“Yeah, you’re not getting away that easily,” Tommy laughed as he and his bandmates dragged some chairs over to sit around the booth, adding another layer of defense to keep Kelly trapped, “Come on man, I wanna know more! Like, dude, if you’ve got a legit place, why aren’t you living there?”

Sighing in resignation, Kelly settled back in his seat and shrugged, “I dunno, I just like being closer to the action I guess,” he smirked, “It gets annoying having to drive twenty minutes just to get some pussy.”

“What, none of your fancy ass neighbors cut it?” Vince teased.

“I mean, there was one dude I used to hook up with, but that was in the… 30s I think? I dunno, all I know is he, like most of my neighbors, aren’t exactly at an age that can… keep up with me,” he winked mischievously as the group snickered.

Slash shook his head, “Dude, I get that, but personally I give fuck all about the age demographic, you’ve actually got a decent fucking roof, man!”

“I mean there’s the commute into the Strip, too, y’know?” Kelly argued.

“Oh no, how will I survive the commute?” Baz whined sarcastically, sticking his tongue out when Kelly flipped the teleporter off.

"It needs a lot of work," Kelly added. "Like weeds and shit and…"

"Dude, we have a gardener," Nikki motioned to Vince.

"And spiders?" Kelly pointed out.

"I'll feed them to my snake...that I most definitely do not have…" Slash's eyes darted to Stevie quickly before glancing away again.

"Can we at least see it?" Stevie asked. "You know how much I love decorating."

"Please no kiss posters in the living room," Mick groaned.

“Why do you hate art?” Stevie pouted jokingly.

Meanwhile, Kelly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not getting out of this one am I?”

A chorus of “no”s answered him.

Rolling his eyes, Kelly threw his hands up in defeat, “Fine, I guess I can show you around sometime this week. What’s the worst that could happen?”

At that moment, loud, ominous cracks of thunder and lightning rattled the windows behind them. The group snapped to look at Duff in exasperation. The blonde bassist merely shrugged.

“What? Am I wrong?”

#THE PLOT THICKENS #Guns n Roses #gnr #motley crue #Skid row #LA Guns #fem!Steven #duff mckagan #slash #izzy stradlin #axl rose #sebastian bach #kelly nickels #mick mars #Nikki Sixx #tommy lee #Vince Neil #my writing #other people's writing

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hopetofantasy · 5 years ago

Text

‘Wandering Romance’ - Part 4

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans Trigger Warnings (if applicable): mentions of abuse, toxic relationships, self harm, rape/non-con elements, emotional manipulation, mental breakdown, panic attacks, self loathing Created for @skamevents

Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

SURPRISE: I’m going to add a FIFTH CHAPTER (EPILOGUE) TOO!

——————————————————

CHAPTER 4: 'No one sees myself like you do’

——————————————————

He knew he broke his heart.

Shattering the pieces everywhere.

He knew they weren’t his to take, to glue together, to hold onto.

Yet, he did it. Again and again.

He caused pain, he felt pain, he gave the pain away.

He hated pain.

But...

He loved pain.

He deserved it. He always deserved it.

Love was never his, love wasn’t there for him.

He didn’t deserved it.

Pain was better.

Breathe.

Why?

Breathe.

Why should he?

Please?

Pain was good.

Just once.

He wasn’t normal.

Come on, breathe for me.

Was he ever normal?

Oh god. Come on!

He was a monster.

Goddammit, breathe!

He didn’t.

He didn’t do it.

He didn’t want to.

A cry.

Soft blurred halo.

Fierce light surrounding him.

Vaguely familiar blonde color in the corner of his eyes.

Deep pressure on his arm.

Harsh sound of a deep cry.

“Please, Robbe...”

The pain was enough.

But then...

After a century of darkness.

He took his first breath.

-^-

He didn’t remember how he got there.

Slowly walking into his home and tracing the soft texture of the eggshell walls, he sighed deeply. He was welcomed back into the silence. As if he never left. As if they were never witness to anything else. Beautiful things had happened. Horrendous things had happened. But the walls would never speak of it. They kept their peace.

Robbe liked that.

The color was his pick, of course. As if Sander would have chosen boring beige, cold dark blue or a simple black. Come on. Get real. Back when they were together, he would have rolled his eyes at the suggestions the brown-haired boy would make. Arms crossed with faces close to each other, harsh veins popping out because of all the exertion of the shouting matches.

“Life is passion, Robbe. Don’t be the boring gay!” “Sander, we’re supposed to live in this, I don’t want to be nauseous of all the weird combinations!” “And what the hell is wrong with red and yellow?” “What’s right about red and yellow?” “God, are you serious?!”

Hours and hours of discussing splashes of paint, cataloguing each other’s taste, skipping the expensive brands and go into thrift stores to score beautiful furniture, to do it all over again. Yelling, kissing, making up. Falling out of bed, because of the fits of laughter. Mischievous eyes filled with what now?’s. Slight kisses to temples.

“Beige and brown!” “Orange and purple!”

“Dark blue and light green!” “Salmon pink and aquamarine!”

Soft Sander. Beautiful lover. His artist.

Always complying at a flutter of eyelashes, bending his knees at a sigh and holding him at one tear. Always there. Ready to take, to caress and to mend. Late night in bed with their little baby boy in their midst, whispering sweet words to let him catch on. Telling him stories about his day. About the weird accountant who wanted a beautiful portrait of his awful boss. Probably to throw darts at it, he figured. Why else?

A cute giggle.

Oh, did he tell you about the elderly couple? Together for more than fifty years, alive and kicking. They wanted their love honored by making a beautiful portrait. “Yes, no problem”, he had said. After discussing the price, set-up and deadline, Sander had instructed them to sit down to pose. And that’s when they took off their clothes. “Ah, didn't we tell you? It’s a nude portrait!”

David had always been charmed by his papa’s life. Bowie was his hero, blonde hair and leather jackets was his forté. And the tiny boy was just following along. Worshipping every tiny piece. It ran in his blood, didn’t it? Being extraordinary? The artistry? His mother wasn’t conventional either. Noor was special, artsy and beautiful. So each day would pass and their son would be more and more like Sander. A light in the darkness.

And Robbe wasn’t.

He was cold, boring and hollow.

Like now, he was standing in his own home, not knowing what to do or say. He didn’t know how to get going, how to move along and change the course. It had all happened, but did it actually? Was he there? He could feel the ground beneath his feet, the musky air in his lungs, the color of the walls. But was he there? Had he ever been here? Was he truly him?

His hand immediately went to his arm, nails scratching the hardness of skin. And Robbe started to walk around. He needed to feel the space, to know where he was. Anxious pacing the wool carpet he had chosen to compliment the couch in their tiny living room. A space that had been filled with beautiful memories, that of Jens doing a handstand to impress his nephew and almost crashing into their new coffee table.

His feet were slowly shuffling towards their dining room and kitchen. A small smile appeared at Robbe’s face, because he remembered how Moyo would make their regular tapas evenings happen here. Before they all had settled down with their partners and became too busy to organize them again. “I’m the best chef cook of the Western Hemisphere, Robbe! You’ll see!”, he said the first time.

Right before the fire alarm went off.

The next memory flashed before his eyes. Amber and Aaron coincidentally sitting in close proximity of each other. The one looking at the other, right when the other turned their gaze downwards. Jana subtly nudging her husband and whispering her observations. “They still love each other,” Robbe had heard from her. “Why won’t they go back together?” With a slight shrug from Jens as a response. “What can we do about it?”

He felt hurt.

Well, that was something.

A feeling.

A little red stain on his finger? Robbe huffed, looking down at the color. Red is a beautiful shade, isn’t it? So passionate, deep and yet, something that connected all of them. A thrilling feeling. Finally something that connected him to all his friends, his family, his own son. His ex-lover. He never truly felt tied to them all, especially in the later years.

A beep on his cell.

He was grey, as grey as the sharp steel in the kitchen. He wasn’t special. He never understood why Sander thought he was. Why his son would pick that exact song, the one which ripped his heart out and made him feel 16 years old again? Right then and there, at a beach town supermarket, a cute guy whirling him around on a supermarket cart. A feeling that went up and up, never coming down.

A text.

Pain was inevitable, he had learned. With Noor. With Sander. With David. Because children were a blessing, they'd always be the good in the world. That’s why he needed to protect the boy, from all the evil. Why he would let himself be pushed off the stairs, so not one beautiful curl on his head would be harmed. Psychically or emotionally.

- “I’m coming to talk to you” -

No other dark eyes filled with sorrow.

Only his.

-^-

“Come on, baby! Dance for me, you know you want to!”

“Wouter, please, stop it... You’re going to wake up my son.”

As if he cared... Wouter just kept pulling at Robbe’s sweater, trying to discard it, so he could dug his nails at his bare arms. His response was to shut himself off. He wasn’t going to stop anyways, so why bother? Robbe liked it too, didn’t he? He was sure he did. When the other man nipped at his ear, slowly biting a trail down his neck and loosening his belt. He really loved it. Right?

“Rob- just do it for me. I’m too tired to move along!”, the man growled.

His breath filled with distain and mixed with the stench of cheap liquor. Eyes watered down to dimmed grey and clouds covering the sun. His hands were calloused, rough, manhandling him towards the end of the bed. The man named Robbe discarding his lover’s pants and hoping to shush loud moans by softly kissing his lips. His palm sweetly caressing, was met with a sharp pain in his wrist. Hmmm...

“I want it now. Don’t give me that bullshit about lubing it up and kissing gently. Just put a condom on already! I’m ready. You are too!”

Fear struck. Made him come out of the daze. Back into his mind. Robbe moved along to the other’s body, gripped the hip and pulled it from his orbit. Followed by a furious growl, whilst fingers formed a fist. He didn’t want it to happen. It would happen anyway. But still, he couldn’t say yes to this. This wasn’t what he wanted. Stop. Don’t do this.

“Wouter, stop it please...”, he whispered. “I don’t want this”

“What do you mean? You always say yes to this! It’s me your talking to, not some loser from the street, dumb-dumb.” Sickeningly sweet tone. A flower clearing through the greyish woods. An inkling of hushed love. Two bodies breathing together, bothered in various ways. But his head still screamed ‘no’. Greasy lips on his chest, licking towards his right nipple.

“I don’t want to, Wouter. Not tonight.”

Silence.

Pull away.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, of course, Robbe. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to. What kind of guy do you think I am? I’m not like that filthy know-it-all you call your ex. I mean, it’s not because you have a son with him, like you jump when he asks you to. You’re not his plaything... You’re mine. Right?”

Wouter’s face contorted in a cheap grin. He knew he shouldn’t fall for that, Robbe knew better. But did he? Maybe... Maybe his boyfriend was right? Sander did boss him around, when it came to their son. Always expecting to jump? But that wasn’t Sander was it? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think.

His thoughts were interrupted by his lover huffing out a short laugh. Seemed to be sobering up, a little. Maybe. “You shouldn’t worry your pretty head too much, darling. You’ll get wrinkles. But if we’re not going to do anything, I’ll need something to get the edge off. It’s been a long, hard damned week. I at least deserve a break. You want some?”

Oh, Robbe knew what ‘some’ meant. The brown haired boy didn’t like this feeling. Of not being in charge what was going to happen at this point of the evening. He shook his head, while his chest slowly closed up. The last memory he had of that stuff, was Wouter breaking his dresser. All because Robbe made a comment about his unemployment. A throw-away remark, that’s all it was. He was going to shut his mouth now.

It only took him a half hour.

“You know, sweetie. I always wondered what so special about that boy of yours. He’s the apple of your eye, right? A spitting image of you both. And yet, he isn’t. The son of an unknown father and a dead mother. Beautiful that you took him in. That’s true. But what’s so special about those blonde curls?”

Ice.

His blood turned to ice. Is this how murderous anger felt? It felt really close. His body was too slow at first to follow his coked-up partner to the stairs. But caught him, before Wouter could step foot towards the child’s door. Hissing. He felt like a wild animal, a lion trying to protect its cub, when he spit out:

“Don’t. Even. FUCKING. Dare. Touching. Him. Or. I’ll. Kill. You. With. My. Bare. Hands.”

Dark storm clouds looked into his. Venom in the mouth.

“Does he know, Robbe... Does he know he’s not yours? That he’s a boy that’s neither made from love between two men nor out of a conscious decision by his true mother? Never knowing his real father, having two fakes instead. You told me that, you know. You might not remember, but I do. I know what you said about little David, sweet darling son...”

Robbe froze on the spot. His fight-or-flight-reaction going into full overdrive. The hair on his arms were standing up, senses completely aware of his surroundings. All while still having no shirt on, he now remembered. What a ridiculous thought. Him, a man, of barely 1.68m and bare chested, trying to fight someone without pants and at least one head bigger than him.

And yet... So tempting...

“I remember what you said, Robbe. You were blubbering all over me, crying about that beach blonde bitch again. Typical. But then you said it to me. Your real fear... That he isn’t yours. That he looks so much like Sander, beautiful unattainable Sander. Boohoo. And never like the boring you. That you blame your ex for that! That’s what you said, right? ‘I’ll never be good enough for sweet David, Sander seems to be’. That’s adorable. Truly. Adorable.”

Poison.

In his veins.

Deafening silence.

“Maybe I should tell him, darling? All. Of. It. What do you t-”

Hard grunting. Hands everywhere. Red scratches.

Black irises taking over the grey.

Pushing and pulling.

Shouting. Screaming. Crying.

Tilting worlds. Tumbling. Tripping.

Falling. Falling. Falling.

Pain.

Black.

And a few days later:

“Don’t tell papa I broke my arm okay? It’s nothing to worry about, okay sweetie?”

Followed by a soft:

“Okay, paps. I won't.”

-^-

“It’s better this way...”

“I know.”

“You know this is the only way.”

“I knów.”

Beautiful deep eyes. A pained expression. The back of a hand tracing his cheek. Wiping away the tears trickling down. A watery smile. This feeling of being left alone with all the responsibility on his shoulders, was somehow even worse than breaking up. But he shouldered through it anyway. He needed to. He needed to be strong for someone else.

“Robbe...”

“Sander, don’t...”, the other, tiny boy whispered. “Just promise you’ll take care of him. You’re the only one I trust with him.” His little hands still covering the man’s rosed cheeks. Fresh bandages wrapped around the fragile arms. Memories of closing, days of grey clouds and unspoken communication. Sander nodded his head. But he needed to say it, to get the feelings off his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Robbe. I didn’t know. I was supposed to be there for you. In sickness and in health, right?” A pained smile of both. “I meant it, schat. I didn’t... I should’ve... We wouldn’t have...” Sander looked down. He couldn’t find the words to describe what he felt.

“It’s okay”, his love answered. A fluttery kiss to his right cheek. “I’m still here. I’m not going away. Not for long at least. And then we can start again. We can start over... Maybe. Only... If you want to. I mean... If you still-”

“I still love you. I’ll always will. I’m never going to stop.”

“Me neither...”

A ruffle through brown hair.

A featherlight hug.

A light giggle from him.

A cute wink he managed himself.

“Chill...”

“Chill..."

Then he watched the brown jacket step towards the entrance, right into the arms of the welcoming nurses. All warmly tapping his shoulder, introducing themselves and trying to make him feel at home. Nodding at what he's saying. Already knowing why he's there, but listening anyways. They were going to be good for him. Just like they were good for Sander, a whole lifetime ago.

But before his life partner stepped through the door, he made a stop and turned around quickly.

With mischief on his face.

“So, what are we going to do in the next minute?!”

And a loud response for the artist, surprising even himself:

“In the next minute, I’ll wait for you!”

And waiting he did.

#wtfock #wtfam #skambingo #skam events #part 4 of 5

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disappearinginq · 5 years ago

Note

I'm sure you're not surprised by this at all, but Big Brother Instinct for Magnum please. :-) Anyone can be the big brother, either Magnum and Rick towards each other or TC as the big brother to both of them, since he seems to be turning into the one with the most common sense on the show. :-)

Rick pressed a hand to his nose, sniffing when he saw blood stain the back of it. “What do you want from me?”

The young lieutenant sat opposite him, spinning the chair around so that he straddled the seat, leaning his chin on folded arms. “They talk about you like you’re some sort of legend. Guys think they’re invincible when you’re Overwatch. You been here…what, three tours already?”

Rick said nothing. Officers had only one use for him, and he’d be damned if he was going to offer anything of his own free will. The lieutenant clearly already had enough information on him. Nobody talked like bored Marines downrange.

“You been home in all that time?”

Rick laughed, a harsh, derisive bark more than genuine amusement. He could taste blood from a cut in his cheek on his tongue, and he spat at the floor. “For what? So I can get shot at there instead of here? Least here I get paid - tax free.”

“One tour is hard. Two is tough. Three is a form of self torture.”

“Maybe that’s my gig. Self-flagellation. It’s a little hard to find a BDSM club out here though, so I gotta improvise.”

The lieutenant was quiet for a moment, and Rick had to consciously force himself not to fidget beneath that steady gaze. “Why don’t you have a spotter anymore?”

“I like to work alone.”

The lieutenant squinted at him, giving a small shake of his head. “Nah. If that was true, you wouldn’t be the guy you go to. No one would come fucking near you.”

“Go to?” he echoed, snorting. “For what?”

“Everything. Seems you know a guy just about everywhere in the world, Sarge. That’s not the type of person who likes to work alone. So. What gives? Why no spotter? You that special? Don’t need a second set of eyes, ‘cause you don’t miss? Did I hear that right?”

His first shot on his first tour - the first time he fired a gun at another human being - flashed so violently through his mind’s eye he physically flinched. He grabbed the bottle in front of him, taking a long, hard drink. The heat of the winter sun. The pressure of the M-82 against his cheek. The smooth pull of the trigger in between heartbeats and the explosion of blood through the scope. The kid next to him clapping him on the shoulder as he congratulated him like he’d just scored the perfect wave out on Waimea Bay instead of taking a human life.

Or like it was trophy hunting.

“I like to work alone.”

Again, that stare. The feeling like the lieutenant could see past the flimsy shell straight to his rotting core without ever saying a word. Rick could sit still for hours. Whole nights and days. But something about that dark-eyed, all knowing stare made him want to turn away.

“I know burnout when I see it.”

Rick folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in the chair. “You know, I’m not the only one with a reputation here,” he said. “Rumor has it you turned on your Team. Never seen a SEAL out here on their own. Guy’s gotta wonder how long you can tread water out here, all by your lonesome.”

“We know how rumors are,” the lieutenant dismissed.

“Yeah - that there’s a little bit of truth to all of them. So what’s your truth, LT? You do it? Turn on your guys ‘cause you didn’t like getting your hands dirty? How’s the SEAL liking it down here in the mud with the rest of us poor fucks?”

The younger man didn’t necessarily flinch, but the reaction was just as telling. Those expressive eyes went completely blank, flat as that of any predator, closing him off as easily as slamming a door in Rick’s face.

“Hit a nerve, did I?” Rick sneered, taking another long, hard pull from the bottle. He’d regret his decisions tomorrow, but for now…for now it was still tonight, and he hadn’t drunk nearly enough to be able to sleep. The high pitched whine still echoed in the back of his mind and he wondered if there was enough alcohol on base to silence it. He was willing to test that theory.

“You know, most snipers, they’re not bothered by their jobs. What’s so different for you? If you hate it, why the three back to backs? Why not take the money and bounce?”

“Who says I hate my job?” Rick said, noticing his words were finally starting to slur. That might be more rage than liquor, though. Or maybe a concussion. “Maybe I love it.”

The lieutenant laughed at that - just as hollow and empty as those eyes suddenly were. “That why you come out here every night to get your ass kicked? Drink until you pass out, someone drags you back to your rack, just to do it all again tomorrow? Some kinda love, man.”

Rick pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly when his heel caught on the leg of the chair as he shoved it back. “Fine, sir. You seem to have a particular story in your head already, so why don’t you just tell me instead of making me fucking guess, huh?”

“I think you hate it. I think you hate even more that you’re good at it. Maybe the fucking best at it. I think you come in here and let someone kick the shit out of you so you feel as broken and bruised on the outside as you do on the inside. That on some level, you think you deserve it. Except I don’t think you’re haunted by the lives you take. I think you’re haunted by the ones you didn’t save. I bet if I asked how many targets you eliminated, you wouldn’t be able to come within half a mile of an accurate number, but if I asked how many died under your watch you could tell me their names and fucking describe them to a sketch artist.”

“Fuck off, sir -” Rick snarled. “I asked - what do you want from me. Either in you’re in trouble, someone else is in trouble, you need something, or you want me back outside the wire tomorrow, and we both know that officers don’t ask, they tell. So if you’ve come in here to make it seem like I have a choice when we both fucking know I don’t, then you’re a special kind of asshole. Now, how ‘bout for real this time - what do you want from me?”

The lieutenant was quiet for a long moment, and Rick thought maybe he’d stunned the pretty-boy SEAL into not answering. Typical goddamn bars and stars, Rick thought nastily. They can always push until someone pushes back.

“Your pilot sent me to you.”

Rick blinked. “TC?”

“Seems in your down time, you’re a hell of a door gunner. Not sure what you did or who you pissed off to pull duty for two totally separate MOS’s downrange, but…I guess that’s the world we live in. I came to you because I have an assignment beyond the fence. I need an Overwatch, and I would prefer to have you.”

“Yeah? Get someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else, Sarge. I want you. But I won’t make you go. Your choice.”

He outright sniggered at that, staring at the bottle abandoned on the table, suddenly wondering what could be in there that caused auditory hallucinations. “Choice. Yeah, right. Fine, sir. I’ll play. Why me?”

The lieutenant leaned back in his chair, gripping the back where he’d been leaning, fingers white knuckled around the battered and stained wood. “Because I want someone who still sees people when they look down their scope. Because I want someone who knows that every target is a human being. Because I want someone who will only pull the trigger when he has to. Because I don’t want a machine. To be honest, I don’t want you to have to pull the trigger at all, but if things go that south…I want minimum casualties. Not a goddamn shooting gallery.”

Of all things the man could’ve said, that was so far down on the list it wasn’t even on the list. Rick stared at the man, really looking at him for the first time since he sat down in front of him. He was young. Probably not nearly as young as he looked, but downrange had a way of bringing out painful reminders that the old were not who were sent to die, but the young. He’d only run into a couple of SEALs - mostly during EXFIL with TC, but a few times in places like here, times like tonight - when he couldn’t tell they were still human. The world was black and white to them. It was ‘them or us’ - always. No exceptions. Their jobs didn’t allow for those.

If Rick didn’t know the rumors, hadn’t heard the story or seen the trident on the man’s left shoulder, he would’ve never believed he was one of them. He was too…honest. Rick was pretty good at reading people. With his family, you had to be. It only helped him during his service. He knew who to trust, who couldn’t lie to save their ass, and who you avoided at all costs.

But…

Rick scowled, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m going to ask you one question, and don’t you dare think about lying to me. Are all the rumors true about you?”

“In my defense, I didn’t know the horse belonged to Sheikh Muhammed at the time.”

Despite his best efforts not to, Rick laughed at that. It was thin, and brittle, but genuine. Damn the man. “Fair enough. But I could’ve guessed that one. That’s not the one I wanna know about.”

The lieutenant fidgeted, the first sign in this entire conversation that he even could be rattled, not meeting Rick’s steady gaze. “I don’t - ”

“I said no bullshit.”

The younger man looked down his hands, sucking in a breath as he rapidly drummed his fingers against the back of the chair before pushing himself to his feet to look Rick steadily in the eye. “I can’t promise to bring you back alive. But hell or high water, no one is left behind. Everyone comes home. Everyone.”

It was something out of a movie. People didn’t talk like that, not really. But instead of coming off as cheesy and campy and utter horseshit that officers thought sounded inspiring despite everyone rolling their eyes, Rick found himself stunned by the quiet earnestness there and the open honesty. The lieutenant meant every word.

Goddammit, he cursed himself. I actually believe him.

Not that he was about to tell him that.

“I still don’t know that I trust you, sir,” he finally admitted. “But I got your back.”

If the rumor’s were true…someone had to.

#magnum pi 2018 #magnum pi reboot #short piece #fanfic #first meetings #asks answered #bad things happen bingo

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schrijverr · 5 years ago

Text

Behind the Scenes

This is a story that developed from a small peek into my brain whenever I write the stories you read into a thinkpiece about writing and posting fanfiction.

On AO3.

Ships: none (unless you wanna ship me with my keyboard lol)

Warnings: none, I suppose, but it does get a little down in the end, I was having a rough day when I wrote this, sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~

I sit on my chair before my laptop. I’m curled into myself as my fingers glide over the keyboard and my thoughts flow out of my fingertips onto the screen.

It isn’t all that late, just past midnight, but it’s already dark outside and in order to see the keys properly I have to turn on the lamp I have on my desk. With the light it’s kind of cozy here in my little nook of the world.

I look to the screen and try to make sense of my own words. I don’t have a fully fledged idea yet, but a vague idea that floated through my brain at some point during the day has inspired me enough to open a new document and start typing.

I now know how this story begins and I see where I am going and how it will end, but the question of how I get there sits heavily on my mind.

I stop typing for a moment and think. If I introduce this character now, it might set some other things in motion and that’ll be good for the plot, but I don’t know how to write that character at all and I’m afraid that if I do it wrong, people won’t like me or my story.

I sigh and realize I’ve started almost every new paragraph with the same word. I hate it when I do that. The story starts to feel repetitive and as a non native English speaker I want to prove that I have a bigger vocabulary than that.

How to proceed?

A synonym, maybe? But I’ll have to look that up and I don’t think there is a good synonym for I. Sighing again I scan the page and think. Maybe I could start with a verb to shake things up a bit or a question. No, not a question that would feel out of place here.

Now I’ve written a few paragraphs again, so I could use the word I used before, but since I used it so many times already I want a bit more space between now and the next time I use it. So a synonym it is, I guess, I think as I open my browser to look one up.

…

There is no synonym for I.

Goddammit, I think. Well, it’s no use now anyway. I’ve decided to write this story in the first person, despite knowing I’m horrible at it, and now I have to deal with the fact that I don’t have another word for I.

I start my next paragr- no that’s not right. Backspace, backspace. Moving on to the next- No, not that either. Backspace, backspace. I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t, hmm, what’s a good word there?

I know I have a good word in Dutch ‘voortborduren’, but when I translate it, it gives me elaborate, which doesn’t fit in the sentence at all. Mentally groaning I recline in my chair as I try to think.

Maybe it’s the sentence itself? Lets see what did I write again? Oh yeah: I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t- and then I need to find a word. Hm, funny, I don’t know how to go on by the sentence about not knowing how to go on.

‘I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t’, I whisper it to myself in the hope the right word comes to mind.

First there is nothing, but then! Expand! Not perfect, but it fits, which is good enough for now, maybe when I proof read it a better word will come to me and I can use that.

So, expand. I wonder why I wrote something I can’t expand upon.

Fuck, I’ve spend so much time finding the right word that I have forgotten what I was talking, well writing, about in the first place. Softly swearing under my breath I scroll up and read what came before the sentence with the stupidly hard word to think off.

Ah yeah, it was about the other stupid thing, namely that I am writing this in the first person, which I still cannot do, no that skill has not come to me in the time it took to look up a word. What a pity.

But I have started the last few paragraphs with something other than I from time to time. That at least is something. Wait, should I add punctuation there? That, at least, is something. Looks better, but maybe that is just my love for commas talking. I mean, why write a boring sentence with a dot in the middle, which makes it short and doesn’t give you enough space to play with it, when you can also add unnecessary punctuation, so that you can play with the cadence of how something is read out loud or in someones mind?

Whoops, now that whole paragraph is long, if I want to make this story easy to read I’ll have to make this one shorter. Hmm, is this good? Yeah, probably. Enter.

Now, I’m suddenly wondering, if paragraph is even the right word. In Dutch the word is ‘alinea’ and the word ‘paragraaf’ also means chapter, but not really, only in a school book. It doesn’t really make sense, because you also have a chapter in a schoolbook and that’s divided in paragraphs and each paragraph has ‘alinea’s’

Aaand I’ve distracted myself by thinking about the differences between each language instead of looking up if paragraph is actually the right word and it means what I think it means.

I look it up on Google translate, not the most trustworthy source for sentences, but for lone words it’s alright.

It is the right word, along with indention, but I’m not really familiar with that word, although I can see where it comes from with the paragraphs creating indentions in the text. Still, I decide to stick with paragraphs, cause “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” and I live by that.

Looking back to the clock in the corner of my screen I realize that I’ve now been writing this for 40 minutes. It isn’t all that long, but I don’t know where I’m going with this anymore. I had a point when I began and now I’ve forgotten it.

I stretch my arms, by pushing away my chair, leaning forward until my shoulders are at the same height of my desk is. My right shoulder cracks, it has always done that, but the sound snaps me out of my musings and makes me pay more attention to my surroundings.

It is raining outside and I hear people screaming. They sound happy, probably celebrating something and drinking, but I still wondered what they’re doing up so late (ignoring the fact that I am still awake too.)

Right, my word document. I was trying to remember what my point was. No wait, not remember, recall sounds better. I double click remember and replace it with recall: I was trying to recall what my point was.

Although I have found a nice sentences with the best word to describe the action, I still don’t know what comes next. I suddenly begin to doubt myself. Maybe this was a dumb idea. Maybe I’ve read this somewhere before and I am unconsciously copying someone. Maybe I should just delete this and move on to something else.

I mean, come on, who wants to read this? No one. I’m just going to post it, knowing that no one cares and no one will read it. People don’t go to AO3 for original works, you don’t, so why would anyone care about it? It’s going to get five hits tops, with maybe two kudos, three if you’re lucky.

And now I have accidentally switched to a second person perspective, can’t even stay consistent. Maybe if I play it off as an introspection or and internal dialogue no one will notice or think it’s an artistic choice.

Pff, artistic choice. You can hardly call what I’m doing artistic. It’s just fanfiction, a hobby. Yeah, I know that is still good and can be great, even amazing and artfully written, but this isn’t. I have a too direct writing style for that. I’ve only been getting English education for six years and it’ll take so much more practice until I ever reach that level.

I’ve gotten off track completely now. I faintly remember that this started out as a mock internal dialogue of what happens when I write a fanfic, but now it turned into a self deprecating shit parade.

I blink long and hard, trying to get my head back on track and write something better, or at least more consistent.

Realizing that in order to do that I should probably scroll up and read (lets be honest scan) how I started. I don’t have the energy for it, but I force myself to do it with a sigh.

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Ah, yeah, I began with where I was and then that discussion about language and looking things up. Oh, but I’ve also reflected on what I’ve written before, well, before. Then it was about re-finding what I was doing after I had to look up a word and now it is desperately trying to remember what the actual fuck I was doing in an attempt to make something cohesive, but still. I decide to not do that again.

I still don’t know what my point was when I started this, but I’m making a new one up right now. I think I’m going to call the work ‘behind the scenes’ or ‘the thoughts of a writer’, since I have now decided that this is a way to get readers a peek behind the curtains.

As a reader, I can respect people so much for all the work they put into a story. And of course I’m not saying you can’t do that if you don’t write, no, that would be pretentious, but I do have more respect for them than before I started writing all those years ago.

It is really easy to forget that something you read in a few minutes has taken hours to write. This is not even 2k words long right now. I know I can read that in a few minutes, not even blinking and mostly forgetting, before moving on to the next story, but I have been writing almost nonstop for over an hour now.

I am lucky that I can usually keep the words flowing long enough to make some bullshit up that I can reason into a coherent story in the end, but that has taken practice. A lot of practice.

In order to become a good in writing a story you have to do it so many times and you won’t even notice you’ve gotten better until much later. I know this, because I recently went through all my works and made them better. Got all the typos out there, I fixed vague sentences and I made the lay out better. I also cringed a lot.

Well, I think I have to go with a ‘behind the scenes’ now, because I don’t think I can claim this is my internal monologue when I’m writing. Instead this has turned into a think piece about writing and appreciating it or something.

I don’t even know anymore.

I recall I had a point when I started this, probably thought it out and then my brain decided to throw it away and throw up this garbage instead. It is interesting, I suppose, but not at all what I was going for in the beginning.

Oh well, maybe I can fix it when I proof read it, because I am tired and I think I’m going to bed. I have half the mind to just fuck it and throw it on AO3 without glancing over my own words even once. It’s very tempting to leave others to deal with these honest words and pretend they aren’t mine, but I don’t.

However, I don’t think I will edit this that much, because it was nice to get some frustrations on, well not paper, but on screen. Just order my thoughts, you know?

It is hard to stay motivated when it seems that everyone around you is doing so much better than you. It is disheartening and it makes you want to stop.

I don’t.

I can’t.

Writing is what I do, it helps, it’s nice. I love writing and I don’t think I will stop loving it. But one of the reasons I love writing is because it can get the constant thoughts and ideas to stop swirling around in my head.

Today I needed it to stop, so that I could just go to sleep properly and I feel like this helped. It was honest and I feel better now. Tomorrow can come at me and I will face it like I did today. Maybe my last few fics weren’t to everyones taste and that’s okay, they were my taste and I love them and I am proud of them. For me that’s enough.

I would apologize for ranting, I usually do, but since you could stop at any time and leave, I don’t think I’m going to do that, what I am going to do, is thank you.

Thank you for reading this, despite the fact that it is not a fanfic. Thank you for allowing me to just dump all these thoughts on you. And thank you for being here and clicking it, your support, even if it is only an extra number by “hits”, means so incredibly much to me and I cannot put in to words how grateful I am that you are here.

Since it is now 01:18 and if I recall correctly it was 00:02 when I started, I think I am really going to stop now. Goodnight, or good-whatever time a day you’re reading this!

Goodbye :)

#RR writing #just me thinking #think piece #internal monologue #writing fanfic

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moonraccoon-exe · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! I was going through your supportive Regis to Iggy stuff and I’M MELTING!! I love it so much! Do you have anymore Regis-Ignis stuff or even other characters who support gladnis? I really wanna know!

*SMACKS WITH LOVE*

HELLO MUFFIN U THOUGHT I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU? HAH. U ABSOLUTE FOOL. I AM HERE TO SERRRRRRRRRVE

I’m very excited to answer this because even though I still have 60+ asks (WAY over a year old now, god damn it), it made me so happy to get a new one with such old vibe? Idk how to explain it, it just felt like the first times I’d get asks anD IT MADE ME SO HAPPY OMG THANK YOU ;w;

But not gonna make the intro too long, you here for the nice stuff, so here we go!

The supportive Regis to Iggy stuff is old, some of my first, AND I FREAKING LOVE IT. Here you have supportive Regis being a good papa, and supportive Regis multiple headcanons if you missed it/don’t remember! :3

NOW LET’S SEE WHAT WE CAN GET FROM THIS

AU where Regis is Ignis’ supportive dad figure:

Quick summary following the previous posts’ canon: Iggy’s parents love him but aren’t very good parents. He’s just Noct’s adviser and a kingdom’s servant for them, and don’t care about Iggy’s relationships, not even his romantic one, so they never make any space to talk about it or interact or even care. Not kingdom issues? Then I don’t have time, sweetie, focus on your job and don’t make me waste my time.

So Regis has taken up on the role of Papa Regis for Ignis because a parent isn’t just feeding your child, WHERE IS THE GODDAMN SUPPORT, HE JUST WANTS TO TALK ABOUT THE TIME HE ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED HALF HIS ICE-CREAM ON SATURDAY’S DATE NIGHT, CAN YOU JUST. FUCKING LOVE HIM GODDAMMIT HOW HARD IS IT

Regis always gets some time to listen to Iggy about Gladio. Even if it’s a few shared whispers while crossing the door to Council meeting, he’ll always ask. Ignis has gotten a grip of that, and they’ve managed to get away with it, be it a long conversation, or two sentences, all so long Iggy gets to express a bit of what he feels :’)

You know what Regis does most? He disguises lots of forms of support in formalities so that Ignis can get away with his things.

Like the one post shared above where Regis made up the lame excuse of “oh, uh, you: drive the Regalia to the Amicitia house and then you’re free lmao” (it’s sO CUTE OMG HOW DARE PAST-ME WRITE SOMETHING SO CUTE).

Ignis’ parents and council in general are always overwhelming and overloading Ignis of so much work, it’s sometimes a real struggle to find the time to dedicate to his relationship. Gladio understands, but it’s still not fair for Iggy.

So Regis is going to do the Thing: POWER ABUSE. FOR THE BABY.

Not rly power abuse lmao but he’s the king, he has the ultimate word and orders, right? So if he wants Ignis to have some time to himself, HE’S GOING TO FUCKING HAVE IT. But, so that his parents don’t notice or don’t have an excuse to complain, Regis will disguise some Ignis Free Time as orders.

Ignis wants to write a love letter for Gladio, but is stashed to the very last pore of politics paperwork.

“Excuse me, lord, ladies, can you be so kind as to get this paperwork done? I require of this young lad’s presence to be my personal scribe for a very, very important speech. *Closes door* Yes, right, where do we start? The…importance of…the crown, symbol of the city, emblem of…you write your thing, Ignis, I’ll just babble things, ok? the light and…stuff and things and I’ll just start reciting the whole of Kupo Wars intro speech and no one will notice if I speak regal and kingly like this are you good? you need anything you tell me, alright? LONG AGO IN A FAR AWAY GALAXY-”

It’s a special date and Ignis wants to bake something for Gladio because GladiO LOVES EATING SO MUCH, YOUR MAJESTY, HE’S SO HAPPY WHEN HE EATS AND I WANT TO MAKE HIM HAPPY

“Yes, hello, it seems like Ignis won’t be able to attend this interview because I want to impress the Tenebrae diplomats and I need the best chef of Eos aiding me, come here on royal duty, Ignis.”

((after Ignis finished baking the cake and people expected Regis to try it he just went “AAAH, GOODNESS, I FORGOT I’M ALLERGIC TO CAKE, WHAT A DUMBASS I AM, WELP, WE DON’T WANT IT TO GO TO WASTE SO WHY DON’T YOU TAKE IT TO SOMEONE ELSE YOU KNOW WILL LOVE IT, IGNIS? ( ´ ▽ ` )))

((regis how is anyone allergic to cake as a whole lmao))

Ignis is just sad because he wants to spend a bit of time with Gladio.

“HELLO IGNIS, GUESS WHICH ABSOLUTELY IDIOTIC KING RIPPED HIS CLOTHES, WHAT A MYSTERY, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN, I THINK YOU’LL HAVE TO GO BUY ME A NEW SUIT BUT DON’T YOU DARE GO ALONE, YOU’RE A FAMOUS FACE OF THE ROYAL WORLD, YOU OBVIOUSLY NEED A GUARD, AM I RITE, WHO IS AVAILABLE RIGHT NOW-”

“well, Cor is-”

“GLADIOLUS, DEAR, WHAT A COINCIDENCE, I HAVE A JOB FOR YOU RIGHT NOW, BOY.”

Soft and gentle and loving as he is, Regis can also be shady af with people that deserve it.

Scientia father is talking about some stupid thing and he mentions his son.

Regis is giving him the most deeply confused frown of the world, and ultra genuinely asks “You have a son???????”

He does this. EVERY. TIME. Scientia parents talk about Ignis LMAO, EVERY FUCKING TIME

(just wants to make it clear he doesn’t see them as parents to Ignis but that’s just his opinion, right, what does it matter, fuck him)

Regis isn’t only a supportive dad for Iggy when it comes to Gladnis. He’s also a supportive papa in general.

Kiddo Ignis can’t. STOP STARING. At the aerial rope acts and acrobatics on TV. THEY ARE JUST. SO FUCKING ARTISTIC. SO ELEGANT. SO BEAUTIFUL. KIDDO IGNIS LOVES THE ACROBATS HELOVESTHEMSOMU- ok Iggy TV time is over, you have to go make your ridiculously advanced homework that sucks the childhood out of you ok baby boy?

40 year old Regis Papa Sense tingles.

40 y.o. Regis is taking Ignis from his parents at a hallway while they were leading him to his first Crownsguard training lesson “Yes, I take it from here, I want to give him a little encouraging speech, you know how this can be a little disheartening from how hard it is? Haha yeah, children these days am I rite”

Ignis walks into the training hall expecting Cor or Clarus or some Crownsguard with a pole ready to fucking SMACK HIM.

Ignis walks into the training hall being received by Insomnia��s fifth best circus arts coreographer.

“Hello, you must be Ignis. The king said you’re very excited about aerial ropes and acrobatics? That’s so cool. Are you excited to be learning it yourself, now?”

Little twelve years old Ignis is GASP .A. *looks up at Regis like ¿¿¿¡¡¡¡???!!!*

“It’s OBVIOUSLY just to have an expert acrobat fighter, the only one of your kind, flexible, agile fighter that can jump, am I rite, enemies won’t expect that. So this is NOT arts class, it’s…OBVIOUSLY your Crownsguard training as we told your parents. OBVIOUSLY. Right, boy? Now, we don’t want to spoil the surprise. No telling mom and dad, ok? You tell them it’s Cor teaching you to punch things. Have fun. I mean. TRAIN HARD, HUFFFFFFFF”

IGNIS WAS HYSTERICALLY HAPPY YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE SO MUCH JOY FITS IN THAT CHILD

Nineteen year old Ignis figured out his first real strategy at war table and it was an utter success.

Papa be like, not even looking away of his papers, “It’s your responsibility.”

REAL PAPA Regis rushed to hug him, grinning, and goes “Wow, Ignis, that’s fantastic!! Congratulations!! You worked very hard on it, and you helped save so many lives. Imagine all the families that will reunite thanks to you. You, fantastic boy, you’re so young and so skilled already, I’m so proud of you.”

Ignis had a literal nervous breadown out of stress overload.

Mama be like “take these pills, rest five minutes, now go back to your office, you can’t stay behind, you have all these paperworks DUE TOMORROW, YOU CAN’T JUST CALL IN SICK??? LIKE IT’S AN EXCUSE¿¿¿”

Ignis arrived to his office to find two sofas placed there together like a bed, comfy, cozy, with a blankie and cushions, and a therapist waiting at the desk.

“Hello. You must be Ignis. The king scheduled an appointment for you today. He also said you don’t need to worry about the paperwork, and said, I quote *reads paper* “…fuck paperwork”. Oh my. Anyway, come here, please lie down and let’s see what we can do for you, ok, sweetie?”

Seventeen year old Ignis is NERVOUS about his first date with Gladio. Like. HIS CRUSH. ASKED HIM OUT?? HIS CRUSH. NOT ANYONE, HIS ACTUAL CRUSH SINCE HE WAS TEN??????? THE GUY HE HAD BEEN PINING OVER FOR YEARS. THE GUY THAT HE FELT SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WAY OUT OF HIS LEAGUE. HE. ASKED. HIM. OUT. WTF, HOW CAN IGNIS NOT BE NERVOUS, HE’S BEEN CRUSHING ON HIM SINCE EVEN BEFORE HE KNEW WHAT A CRUSH WAS

Papa be like “But?? I thought you were staying in today for training????? What about the prince’s interviews you have to cover for the day after tomorrow?? The paperwork for monday?? Your HOMEWORK¿¿ Ignis, you’re way better than this, leave the teenage drama alone. Free time? That you’re a teen and just want to go out and I just think about work??? Yes, no, I understand that, of COURSE I do, I just…nervous? IT’S JUST A DATE IGNIS OHMYGOD, don’t be so immature, just wear anything, go to your date, and be back as soon as possible, I won’t tolerate you being out after eight.”

Papa Regis is stopping a deep breathing absent-looking Ignis in the middle of the hallway to ask if he’s fine. It took like fifteen minutes of an embarrassed Ignis melting and becoming a puddle of shyness making excuses before he spilled the truth, blushing in embarrassment, whispering, feeling absolutely fucking stupid and like a dork.

“…I just…don’t know…what to wear…”

Regis be (・_・ )

An hour later locked away in Ignis’ office after having had an ACTUAL KINGSGLAIVE FUCKING SNEAK INTO IGNIS’ HOUSE AND BRING ALL HIS CLOTHES IN A HURRY (under royal command lmao), Regis is adjusting Ignis’ hair and glasses over and over, stepping back, staring with a >:| look, then going back in, re-arrange, step back, stare like >:|, step in to re-arrange, and so over and over, all while both discuss over it like it’s a death or life issue.

Regis becomes expert fashion critique

“HOW. Are you going to put those shoes on with THAT shirt.”

“YOU’RE RIGHT, I JUST. I’M SO NERVOUS.”

But being serious, Regis made sure to spend so very long in there with Ignis not because he didn’t know what to have him wear; that was the excuse to spend a while with Ignis to help him calm down. Boy was absolutely GONE, he needed to put his feet back on earth before his date or he was going to combust lmao

AND IT WORKED

Ignis’ shift is over and he goes “I wasted my last hour doing NOTHING ;A;”

“HOW DARE YOU SAY IT’S NOTHING WHEN WE USED IT SO WELL TO GET YOU READY”

Ignis is more honored by having had the king help him pick his clothes than working so it doesn’t feel as bad. Plus, Regis knows his way through the mess of his head to make him not feel guilty

Before going out of the office, Regis is taking his time to smile a lot and stare at Ignis, before he drops the whole king attitude or fashion expert and goes with this tender, warm, and genuinely happy voice “So he finally asked you out.”

Ignis absolutely changes then. He just…glOWS HAPPY AND LOVING. And of course he starts sharing the whole thing with Regis, from asking out to how long he had been liking him to how he feels about it and stuff. Regis listens patiently, and then he gets up from his place and goes to grab Ignis’ face and helps a bit with his hair, and he can’t help but stare and stare with these…these IMMENSELY WARM EYES AND THIS HUGE SWEET, TENDER SMILE

“I’m so happy for you two. You two have always looked good together, and I think you’re meant to be. You’ll be fine, son.”

Ignis may have teared up a little and looked down. He feels…sO ENCOURAGED, SO SUPPORTED, HE FEELS LIKE SOMEONE CARES, IT’S SO NICE AKLSDJFDG

of fucking COURSE it was the best first date EVER

Ignis sometimes wants to get Gladio presents, but he doesn’t know where to put them (as in, if he gets Gladio a gift, it may be a few days earlier, so where does he store it during those few days?). No way to put them in his room because his parents check his room (never looking for anything in particular but it’s to ‘’keep him in check’’ or some bullshit), and they have key to his office too.

Regis motherfucking Lucis Caelum is going to store that unicorn plushie in armiger and you better not question him.

You know how Regis and Noctis have royal portraits taken each certain years?

Yes, there is an official royal photograph or Regis with a twenty year old Ignis because what the fuck do you mean it’s just for the Lucis Caelum last name he’s my son regardless of last names fuck you give me that stupid camera

Of course it didn’t count to the ‘official’ archives of the heir and monarch portraits but goddammit is Regis going to make sure it’s hung somewhere in the fucking Citadel.

You thought Regis was just taking the role at times? HELL NO, HE’S GOING FULL PAPA BEAR MODE, HE LOVES IGGY AS MUCH AS HE LOVES NOCT, OF COURSE HE’S GOING THIS FAR

He keeps making that little adorable slip of thinking of Noct and Iggy as literal brothers because he’s just so into supporting Ignis he keeps forgetting he’s not his son neither legally or genetically.

“You can’t just get rid of your brother-in-law, that’s ridiculous.”

“…who?”

“Gladi- ooh, yes, lmao, I forgot. I meant Gladio”

“DO NOT TALK LIKE THAT TO YOUR BROTHER.”

“But I don’t have a brother.”

“right”

“You should follow Ignis’ example, that’s what big brothers are for.”

“Dad you’re doing it again.”

“Hello, Ignis? I wanted to talk to your brother. Ah, fuck, I meant, Noctis.”

Regis gets really moody every time Scientia parents are around. He knows they’re not necessarily evil, but that doesn’t mean they’re not abusive. He’s been reflecting long about it and he sees them as abusive even if incidentally so of course he gets moody. HOW DARE THEY MISTREAT MY CHILD LIKE THAT.

Regis had Clarus review a literal petition to change Insomnia’s adult age from 21 to 19 so Ignis could move the fuck out of his house sooner.

council said no those pieces of shIT

Regis insisted

“Your Majesty, we can’t just change that law so easily and fast, and think of-”

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY CHILDREN WANT TO GET OUT OF THEIR GODDAMN HOUSE TO ESCAPE AN ABUSIVE ENVIRONMENT BUT FUCKING CAN’T BECAUSE THEY’RE “TOO YOUNG”

Regis mopped about it for a month

When Noct moved to his flat near school, Regis did it so he could grow a bit of independency…and to give Ignis the spare key.

“My son may need some watch every now and then. Leave the house duties to him, that’s fine, son, just…uh…keep an eye on him some nights. Any night you want. I happened to find only a flat with two separate rooms haha what a coINCIDENCE AIN’T IT so it’s fine if you want to spend the night with Noct :)”

He was basically gifting Ignis his own shared apartment WHAT THE HECK YOUR MAJESTY YOU’RE GIVING ME A WHOLE ASS APARTMENT?????? OMG NO STOP

((Ignis used that apartment very frequently the poor bby ;A;))

When Noct graduates and goes back to living at the Citadel, Ignis at first is sort of upset of having to go back to his house every day. He normally can’t get to spend the nights at Gladio’s or anyone else’s because his parents thing it’s inappropriate. But Ignis just looks…so upset. He doesn’t say anything, and he keeps talking about being happy of Noct’s growth and independency and graduation and his grades and him getting to be back with his dad and stuff, but when he’s alone he looks so upset. He looks like he’s sleeping less, and worse than before; he looks like…like carrying a heavier weight, that kept growing and growing. He looked less healthy, less happy, less bright.

And as soon as he notices, there we have him, king motherfucking Regis signing the official return of the prince’s gentlemen job, and signing Ignis in the goddamn title without even asking him first.

Regis’ excuse is that Ignis is his first assistant, personal adviser, closest companion, so it only makes sense to have Ignis attend him personally at any time the prince so needs it, SO YOU BETTER NOT HAVE ANY EXCUSES YOU PIECES OF SHIT TO LET YOUR SON LIVE IN THE ROOM NEXT TO NOCT’S, OKAY, FUCK YOU.

It was a smart move because Scientia parents were delighted with the promotion and progress, yes yes, we told you working this hard would get you really far, son, of course it was due to the pressure we put on you that you get to be the prince’s personal assistant to a new level.

Regis really just wanted Ignis to get out of that goddamn place for most nights.

And not like Noctis asks for anything. Wakes up WAY later than Ignis, cleans his own room as best as he can (he’s trying, ok? LEAVE HIM ALONE), and it’s not like it’s the 1st century to be asking Ignis to dress him or anything, ew, get away of my room, you dork, this is my stuff!!

IGNIS HAS NEVER SLEPT SO GODDAMN WEL IN HIS GODDAMN LIFE, and it’s not like his parents don’t let him sleep or anything, it’s just…the air. It’s different. The environment is WAY comfier and more cozy, HE LOVES SLEEPING THERE.

Regis is also there when Iggy is having bad times.

As much as he’s eventually learned that his parents just Don’t Care, it’s not like it’s an easy thing to digest, you know? Because they’re this horrible mix between genuinely loving and still abusive and toxic. They want the best for him, but they’ve broken him to the point of literal physical breakdowns. They love him, but don’t know his favorite meal or color. They want him to go far but forget he’s a human, and just see his grades and work, and don’t know how he has fun and have never once listened to him about his YEARS LONG RELATIONSHIP WITH A MAN HE GENUINELY LOVES AND WHO HE HAS LIVED WITH THE MOST ADVENTURES. Ignis is often very troubled about his parents, because as much distance as he’s put in between and as much as he doesn’t acknowledge them as his parents because of all the bad they’ve done to him and how absent they’ve been, he just can’t help but…still be hurt about it, you know?

So even though he has Regis’ full awesome support, and Clarus’, and other parental figures, it’s just not the people he grew up with all his life calling “parents”. They may be abusive and absent but goddammit, the child in him used to think they were his parents, and good ones. It’s not like he can just not care.

So it’s not rare that Ignis gets emotional over it, or has cried a few times, especially when he has something significative going on in his life and his parents just aren’t there, even when he reaches out to them and they’re just “too busy”.

SO ONE DAY

Nothing particular had happened. It was the constant storing of that kinda events, thoughts and feelings that kept building up until they were too many and made Ignis sort of break.

His parents just wouldn’t speak about his relationship with Gladio. The most they have gotten to was telling him to not be explicit about it to save scandals about someone as important as an Amicitia, to always be perfectly sharp and as best looking as he could because an Amicitia just couldn’t be seen with someone less than Perfect, and would often tell him to not get hopes too high because Gladiolus looked like a man to constantly switch partners so you better be careful. But they never cared about knowing him, having him for dinner, talking about their dates, not even how or WHEN it started, they didn’t even know how long it had been going on, or the places they’ve been or the things they’d done together, NOTHING.

Ignis is so very often at the Amicitias’; has dinner, sleeps over when he can, has gone out with Iris alone SO MANY times, has been with Clarus alone SO MANY TIMES, has LITERALLY GONE ON VACATIONS WITH THEM, and his parents can’t even shake Gladio’s hand even when they all work in the same goddamn place? Were they for real?

Ignis once tried talking with them about the possibility of marriage. He had been with Gladio for a good couple years, and he was sure about it, and had even spoken a bit with Gladio about it, and it seemed like a bright plan.

It took Ignis MONTHS. Literal months of mental preparation. He wrote the little speech and corrected it over and over and over and over for weeks to know what to tell his parents and how. He practiced in his head, with the mirror, with Noctis, he rehearsed aloud to an empty room. He had his routine of breathing before it to get ready, during it to not lose it, he had been gathering courage for all those MONTHS

“I’m sorry, Ignis, I know it’s important but I have to hand these papers in three days from now. Could you tell me some other day?”

He didn’t even get to the first word of his speech because he wasn’t even given the chance.

He dropped the bomb in the first sentence he said, on purpose, so his parents would know how big of a thing it was and wouldn’t discard it; “I’ve spoken with Gladiolus about marriage.” And he got this. I’m busy. Paperwork. Good that you’re marrying but can you please not interrupt me?

Ignis didn’t even get angry. He just stood there, in front of his parents, staring a little with a blank face. He still waited a bit, and his mom did look up from her papers as if asking if he needed anything. Willing to listen, and Ignis knew and saw it.

But decided it wasn’t worth it, and he just turned around and left.

He didn’t feel bad that night, or the next, and he worked just fine during the week…but he kept…to say it some way, withering.

Like back when he had to go back to sleeping at his parents’ every night, Ignis started slowly looking restless and upset with each day. With the heavy air and shoulders, the tired look, and that exhausted aura that felt like he struggled at getting out of bed every day.

And of course, Regis noticed.

One day, he visited Ignis to see what was going on. He had Ignis sit on a chair and he sat across him, and had him talk about it. By that point Ignis has grown so much personal trust with Regis that he doesn’t struggle anymore at opening up with him.

Ignis spoke long, much longer than he knew he had to speak, about all the things his parents don’t do and do, and went on and on, and it was past the shift end hour, it got dark and late and they didn’t even bother turning the lights on and just kept going.

And then Ignis got to the point where one sentence alone had him break.

“I don’t understand, I’m their son, and they love me, so why don’t they care?”

Ignis stopped there because, as he said that last bit, he started crying. Fast, out of nowhere, not even noticing, he just…broke down right there. At first he stayed still while crying, as if only after saying it aloud had he noticed the weight it held.

Little by little he started putting the head down, until he seemed to finally understand what he said, and so he started properly crying. Ignis tried cleaning his eyes, took his glasses off, and sobbed and cried.

It wasn’t long before Regis had stood from his chair and had reached for him. Got close, and took Ignis in a hug.

Ignis didn’t even care if this was the king or someone else’s dad. He didn’t. He just buried his face in his hands, and his hands and face in Regis’ chest, and started sobbing.

Regis hugged him and kept him to his chest for as long as he needed. He pet his hair, rubbed his back, squeezed his arms, and didn’t let go while letting Iggy cry all that he wanted to sob out.

After a bit, Ignis tried cleaning his nose and eyes, and let go of his face to hug Regis back. It was a bit timid, and a little weak, but he held to Regis’ jacket like a scared, upset kid, and shyly sniffled while calming down.

“Why don’t they care?” he whispered again mid-tears, genuinely lost…but not alone.

Later, when Ignis let go and Regis sat next to him, Ignis apologized because he “should” be grateful for what he has, and he has Regis and that’s way better than any parent he could have asked for and way better than the bad his real parents have done to him, and, surprisingly, Regis didn’t agree this time.

“It’s not something that can be replaced. A joy in your life doesn’t nulify the bad. When it hurts, it hurts. I can be your dad all that we want, but it won’t take away the hurt you feel for the real one. And that’s ok. You are grateful for what you have, but it’s also ok to be hurting on this. I would be hurting, too.”

someone give this man a prize already please

A week later Clarus walked into a very upset Regis giving a paper his Tantrum Frown.

“Regis?”

“Clarus how do I adopt an adult that has legal living parents?”

Regis, no.

REGIS ABSOLUTELY FUCKING YES.

Now Regis doesn’t ask the Scientia “you have a son?” whenever they mention Ignis, he just goes “Ah, you know his name?”

savage

One day, a 24 year old Iggy went to Regis’ chambers during a sunday hence day off. Regis was ? :3

Ignis asked Regis if he would please help him choose the engagement ring he was going to get for Gladio.

Regis was out of the room screaming and swinging the Regalia’s keys before Ignis had finished the sentence.

SHOPPING TIME

There we have him a PROUD PAPA going with his BEAUTIFUL SON to get an engagement ring because BOY IS GONNA ASK HIS BF FOR MARRIAGE AND JESUS CHRIST IS THIS EXCITING

Honestly I’m saving how excited Regis was because it’s just too much excitement to be described lmao

Just imagine him screeching the whole way to the mall

and the dy after

and all over the week

Regis was so excited he slightly fainted at least twice across the week lmao thank the gods a chuckling Clarus was there to help but anyway back to RING SHOPPING

Just like that time Regis was his FASHION EXPERT on the first date Iggy had with Gladio, Regis is now becoming RING EXPERT for him

“HOW. Are you going to wear that ring with those SHOES”

“why are the shoes always the problem”

They didn’t spend as long in the store as they did with the clothes that once, but they did spend a good while looking at the prettiest rings and comparing and thinking about what Gladio would personally like, and etc etc.

Basically Regis helping Iggy pick the engagement ring plEASE I BEG FOR THIS SCENARIO AKSLJDFDG *cries*

When Ignis got decided for one, he was just pulling out his credit card when RegIS. FUCKING. SLAMMED HIS DEBIT CARD ON THE COUNTER.

I PAY FOR THIS ONE.

omg but king Regis I’ve been saving up for a whole yea-

IT GOES ON MY BEHALF GOD FUCKING DAMMIT THIS IS MORE A GIFT TO ME THAN IT IS TO EITHER OF YOU SHUT UP

Regis = Gladnis shipper #1

Fun side story, an hour after Ignis and Regis left, CLARUS AND GLADIO ARRIVED. TO THE SAME STORE. LOOKING FOR THE EXACT SAME RING THAT IGNIS JUST BOUGHT. BECAUSE GLADIO HAD HAD IT IN HIS WATCH FOR OVER A MONTH NOW, BUT HE FREAKING…DIDN’T RESERVE IT, HE’S AN IDIOT, SOME STUPID ASSHOLE BOUGHT IT BEFORE HIM, IT WAS THE PERFECT RING, P E R F E C T, THERE WAS NO RING BETTER ON THIS PLANET OR THIS UNIVERSE THAT COULD COMPARE, AND WHAT WERE THE ODDS HE COULD FIND THE BUYER TO BUY IT BACK!?? WHAT WERE THE GODDAMN ODDS FUCKTHISSHIT GLADIO WAS SO A N G R Y.

fun side story #2 can we have Gladnis proposing to each other the same day because that’s disgustingly freaking adorable and I die with cuteness overload at the thought thank you. Like u know, those cute videos, I think there are two where partner 1 proposes to partner 2, and partner 2 just LAUGHS and partner 1 is ;A; ??? and partner 2 suddenly pulls out a little box too and it makes sense and the two just freaking lose it. Yes, Gladnis vibes, thank you

Let’s make it an Eos tradition that the father or parent or parental figure of the groom (or bride or person in suit) gets them the tie and only show them on the wedding day and they put it on their kid. (that’s actually a nice tradition, nice thinking Brain, I’ll steal this from myself later)

On the wedding day, in a room, Clarus is tying Gladio’s tie.

In the other, Ignis is tying his own.

He did tell dad, but didn’t tell him about the tradition and dad assumed it wasn’t happening. It was fine, Ignis kept it a secret because he didn’t want his dad to do it, and he was fine getting his own tie.

(Scientia parents are present, just Ignis asked them to be sat and away, he was fine on his own, and because Scientia parents don’t care they were just like okie)

And of course, there was then a knock at the door.

“Ignis?”

“…ki…KING REGIS!?”

Regis is smiling and going in and closing the door. Ignis stands up and he seemed to have been about to run towards him, but he freezes in his spot, and suddenly stands there like a lost shy kid, and his eyes immediately water. They say nothing for a while and just stare at each other, until Ignis, at the edge of crying, just whispers in a broken voice “You came.”

“Of course I did. What sort of horrible thing would I be if I missed your wedding? I’m sorry I’m late, I just didn’t know in which room you were. You should’ve told me!”

It takes a while as Ignis controls his tears and feelings and gets over the shyness before he says it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d come and I didn’t want to pressure you by asking for this…extra thing, just consumes time, and I could do it alone, it was fine, really…”

“An extra thing?”

Regis starts limping his way towards him. Then, when he gets to Ignis, he pulls out a little large box. Ignis finally starts crying when Regis opens it and there’s a tie inside.

While Iggy cries a bit, Regis undoes his tie, throws it away, and gently and very softly starts tying the new one. He does his best and prettiest tie, and pats it.

“It’s no extra thing. It’s my responsibility.”

Ignis immediately went in for a tight hug, crying into Regis’ shoulder.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you for this, I’m so sorry…I…know you’re genuinely busy, and that’s ok, you run the biggest country of the world and a whole magic core alone, I know it’s genuine and I’ve never been upset for that, I just…know you’re genuinely busy…”

Regis returned the hug as lovingly and tight as only a father does, and kissed his head.

“Yes, a king is always busy. But never for my son.”

And that’s how Ignis was walked down the aisle by REGIS FUCKING LUCIS CAELUM CXIII OF HIS NAME THE MAN HIMSELF.

*cries*

HOW DARE YOU ASK ME FOR SUPPORTIVE REGIS, ANON, NOW I’M A MESS OF FEELINGS AND A CHAOS OF EMOTIONS ASKDJFKG GODS BLESS THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I’m an absolute disaster for supportive papa Regis. U see supportive Regis u show me, ok? OK? THANK YOU ;____;

But anyways, dear anon, HERE YOU GO WITH THIS BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL ASK THAT WAS SUCH A DELIGHT TO RECEIVE, AND SUCH A WONDER TO ANSWER. ( ˙꒳˙ )

I hope you enjoyed these at least half as I did!

Thank you, and have a WONDAHFUL day!

#gladnis #regis #gladio/ignis #ffxv headcanons #*PUTS PAWS IN THE AIR*#AAAAAAAAAAAH YES. THE MOST MAGNIFICENT THE MOST SPLENDID THE MOST DELIGHTFUL PAPA REGIS KICKS IN AGAIN #GOOD HEAVENS THE SKIES KNOW I LOVE SUPPORTIVE REGIS WITH A /PASSION/#*Cries*#coonanswers #coonheadcanons #coonwrites #yay gladnis!

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jack-kellys · 6 years ago

Text

hey y’all so this is the fic I wrote for Saph’s contest!

——————

no such thing

words: 1500

warnings: angst, implied death, swearing

———————

Jack felt like he was doing well. Social outings were becoming more frequent, him even hosting more than a few of them. He was painting again, after such a lack of inspiration. He’d jumped into work more than before, busying himself with his job.

Distracting himself, Davey would correct him.

Distracting, okay, fine. But it was working. Things were better than they’d been before.

Jack had just come home from Race’s that night, tired from the night’s excitement but with a clear vision in his head he just had to get down on a canvas.

He was about to put his brush to it when he was interrupted.

“What are we painting this time, Jacky?”

The brush froze after it nearly dropped from his hand, Jack letting out a humorless laugh. “Jesus Christ, Dave. Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry,” Davey whispered his apology with a smile. “Habit.”

Jack only nodded, resisting the urge to turn around. His brush travelled in short lines up and across the bottom, a dulled aqua color as he tried to conjure what was in his head.

“You know,” Davey continued to speak, “we haven’t had a date night in a while.”

Jack hummed in agreement, eyes narrowed at the canvas now. The previous vision he had was fading, suddenly.

“We should plan one out, I think. I know we’re both busy, but we deserve a break. You deserve a break, honey.”

“Dave,” Jack did allow himself to turn towards his husband, who was perched on their armchair.

A mistake, really. Davey glowed tonight, his pale skin illuminated by the moon waiting over the railing of their fire escape. The slight breeze from the open terrace ruffled his chestnut hair, displacing it just right.

Jack snapped his gaze back to his canvas. “You’re distractin’ me, sweetheart, c’mon.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Davey sighed. “You’ve just been so tense lately. I thought that was my job.”

Jack chuckled, wincing internally. He had shoved himself under a lot lately; typical of Dave to see it before Jack said anything.

“It was. I wish it still was,” Jack joked, earning a small, tinkly laugh from Davey.

“It’s...hard.”

Davey nodded his agreement, but still looked ready to add something.

Jack relented in his concentration again, sliding his deadpanned gaze to Davey’s. “Say it, come on,” he sighed with a tired smile.

“It’s just that- well,” Davey immediately let the words fall out. “You should allow yourself a break if the tensity is weighing on you, right?”

“Right…” Jack raised an eyebrow, signaling for Davey to continue.

The brunette stood, coming up behind Jack and placing his hands on his shoulders. Jack couldn’t help leaning back into it, a little.

“Let me share the weight,” Davey murmured. “Please, baby. You're hurting.”

Davey’s arms came around Jack’s torso, his head placed in his shoulder, and Jack’s vision of the canvas vanished from his mind. He turned in Davey’s embrace, wrapping his arms around his neck and inhaling deeply as he tucked his head under Davey’s chin. Dave’s arms squeezed around Jack’s back, warm and waiting and everything he wanted. Jack let his eyes close, pictures of memories passing through his mind, sweet and smooth like honey. He didn’t want to be anywhere else but with Davey. Couldn’t imagine it.

Jack’s eyes opened.

Yes, he could imagine it. He didn’t even have to.

“Okay, Dave. Lemme go,” he asked.

“Nope,” Davey hummed. The embrace grew closer.

Was Davey even warm?

“Dave. Let go, come on.”

“I regret nothing,” Davey sang.

No, Jack didn’t think he was. He was cold, actually.

“Davey, I love you, but please. Don’t touch me,” Jack whispered.

Davey let out a long sigh, but did release Jack. “Don’t worry, that was just plan A anyway.”

Jack stepped further away from him at that. “Dave, what does—”

“I know you can’t really let me go, Jacky, that’s why I’m still here,” Davey said, in that knowing tone he used when Jack was wrong. His arms were crossed now, too, like a father about to lecture his son.

“No,” Jack said anyway, shaking his head. “You ain’t here, I let you go, I watched them—”

“—lower me into the ground, yes,” Davey sighed. “You know that doesn’t mean I’m gone to you, right?”

Jack averted his gaze. Of course he knew. He’d been seeing Davey for weeks, each time making his heart strings heavier and heavier. He physically ached for David some days, the days Dave didn’t appear. Jack was told those were actually his healthiest days, despite them feeling the worst.

Jack decided against replying, hunching himself on the couch as he sat down. “But why is my vision gone?” he murmured instead, partially to himself.

“Your what?”

“My...ah, my- what I was gonna paint,” Jack said, staring in disbelief at the small amount of blue on the canvas. It had been so clear in his head just minutes ago. “I can’t think of it anymore.”

A thought struck him as his head snapped back up to Davey. “You did that,” Jack said slowly, not wanting to admit it. “You yanked it right outta me, didn’t you. I needed that, I coulda made commission on that. Fucking- goddammit.”

Davey sighed, shrugging as he gave up on playing dumb. “Technically...you did that, Jack.” When Jack still glared, Davey continued. “What’s the only thing you can think about, right now?”

Jack leaned back on the couch, eyes narrowed not only at Davey but also in thought. He definitely couldn’t think of his previous artistic vision, thanks to Dave. Jack remembered when Davey used to give him little inklings all the time, in menial things he said, even in the lilt of his voice sometimes. Occasionally Davey would actually try and give Jack an idea, but when he did, they'd always be slightly off, not belonging on a page. There was one time when Davey was furious at Albert for something and Davey practically demanded Jack to paint—on the largest canvas he could find, too—the most realistic rendering of flipping the bird, and send it straight to Al’s door. Of course Jack did, gleefully did, and then—

Oh.

“You,” Jack said quietly. “Just you.” He sat forward and resumed his hunched position, placing his head in his hands as memories of Davey continued to station themselves in his head.

Jack felt the couch sink next to him, then Davey’s hand rubbing up and down his back.

“I’m not asking you to not think of me,” Davey said, matching Jack’s previous volume. “I just need you to let me go, every once and awhile, okay?”

“I can’t, Davey, I-I—” Fuck. Jack felt his throat close slightly and cursed himself for it. “I need you. I need you to do this with me, I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Honey...” Davey soothed, brows creased in concern. “Jack, you have been. You’ve been doing so well, I swear it. You just gotta go the extra step now, okay? Just one more for me.”

“But I won’t see you,” Jack whispered inwardly, fearfully almost. Davey felt like the last thin strand of sanity he was clinging to, if he snipped that… “I don’t know what to do without you, Dave.”

“You’ll never be without me, hun, really,” Davey added as Jack looked up. He let Davey swipe his thumb under his eye. “You can let go and still hold on.”

“How?” Jack asked hollowly. His eyes were wide, desperate. He hated how afraid he was, still, of losing Davey, even though he already had.

“Well,” Davey said, sitting up more in that way he used to when he was about to make a point, “when you think of me, let it make you happy instead of...despairing, shall we say. Let it remind you that you are capable of being happy again. Let my memory...let me make you happy again. Allow it, it’s alright.”

Jack stayed quiet for a long while, staring at Davey’s hands now laid over his own. He still couldn’t picture anyone else’s hands looking like that on his.

“You sound like you’re presenting a damn PowerPoint presentation,” Jack mumbled, the barest trace of a smile on his face.

“It’s what I do best,” Davey laughed, and Jack could see the tears in his eyes, too. “...Are you ready, honey?”

Jack let out a breath he’d been holding since the funeral.

“Yeah- oh, wait,” he smirked, cradling Davey’s face in his hands and softly pressing their lips together, one last time and impossibly close as usual, before pulling away slightly.

“Now I’m ready,” Jack managed to smile, leaning his cheek into Davey’s hand when he brought it up to cup Jack’s face.

“I’ll see you around, Jacky,” Davey whispered with a nod. “I love you. You can do this.”

Jack nodded back. “Love you too.”

The feel of Davey’s hand disappeared. Jack blinked, and Davey was gone.

A few minutes later, Jack let himself get up from the couch and back to his canvas. He paused, staring at the lonely blue again more intently.

....Wasn’t that the color of Davey’s button down he had just been wearing?

He gazed at it longer, before finally deciding to pick up his brush again. A pale yellowed pink, a chestnut brown, and a maple syrup color made their ways onto the canvas eventually. A portrait of Davey gazed back at Jack after a few hours of work, his knowing smile reaching Jack through the paint.

And Jack smiled back. After all, it made him happy.

————

so I wouldn’t say I’m back, but I’m happy I wrote this :)

TAG LIST

@suddenly-im-respecsable @getchapapes @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @stopthe-presses @technically-whizzy @papesdontsellthemselves @starrysence @seasickdolphin @iamliterallyaghost @beep-beep-byler @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @thomasbeingthomas @the-king-of-brooklyn @localfakeitalian @thebroadwayaesthetic @spot-me50-papes @i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing @iwontfallinlovewfalling @gahbliz @kingofsantafe @we-dont-sell-papes @eveningpaper @sure-as-a-star @godhatesjordan @awkwardstranger98 @ireallyloveiainyoungwow @big-potato-asshole @have-we-got-news-for-you @bxnesof92 @backgroundensemble @orollyitsracetrackhiggins @a-most-auspicious-erster @modern-race-owns-airpods @asphodelnerd @albert-eats-cookie-cake @infinity-fandom-trash @whateva-ya-want

hey so obvious a lot of these don’t work so pls message me, URLs have changed a LOT recently!

#my writing #yayeet #newsies fics #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #fizz freaks #saph tag #newsies

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downn-in-flames · 6 years ago

Text

like a deer in headlights

One short little road trip, that's all it is.

One short little eight hour road trip in a tiny car with the girl he's been in love with since his first year of uni. Nothing to worry about, really.

read it on: hpft | ao3 | ffnet

One short little road trip, that's all it is.

One short little eight hour road trip in a tiny car with the girl he's been in love with since his first year of uni. Nothing to worry about, really.

It was her idea, actually. James had been all set to just buy a plane ticket from London to Edinburgh - why Sirius and Remus insisted on a "destination" wedding in the same city they'd all attended school in is beyond him, but that's beside the point - and before he'd had the chance to book a flight, Lily had texted him, proposing the idea of driving up there together.

It'd be fun, she'd said. We haven't seen each other in ages and it'll be a nice way to catch up.

Apparently, her idea of 'catching up' involves spending eight uninterrupted hours alone with each other.

James can count on one hand the number of times they've hung out as just the two of them - all of them in uni, and none of them for anywhere near this much time.

He's definitely more than a little freaked out about it, which is, quite frankly, ridiculous if he thinks about it rationally. He's not exactly trying to make a good first impression or anything (he'd botched that one well and good six years ago) and they spent quite a lot of time together at uni, even if they were almost always with Sirius and Remus and Peter. This shouldn't be all that different.

But James also knows that he's got a fantastic tendency to make an idiot out of himself - something he hoped he'd grow out of once he hit his twenties but never quite did - and a confined space with just him and a girl he's fancied for years seems like a foolproof recipe for that idiocy to make a reappearance.

He's probably prepared for this trip a little... too well. His car is immaculate (scarily so, really, what kind of psychopath doesn't have anything in their centre console?), there are snacks and water in the backseat for the both of them, and he's got a playlist full of artists Lily loved in uni (that he not-so-secretly enjoyed as well) at the ready.

So as he parks in front of the address she'd texted to him last week and pulls his phone out to shoot her a quick text that he's here, he continues giving himself a mental pep talk to prepare for the hours ahead.

Honestly, he's going to be fine. Yeah, she's wonderful and brilliant and he spent the better part of three years making a fool of himself in front of her, but he's over that, for the most part. She's just a girl he liked in uni, but they've grown apart since then and surely she's not as -

The front door of her building opens, and whatever rationalisation had been going through James' mind comes to a stuttering halt. He's not sure if he'd just forgotten what she looked like or if she'd somehow gotten more gorgeous since they graduated, but… fuck.

Her auburn hair, which once fell to her waist in loose waves, has been chopped to shoulder-length, and she's got it in that same half-up, half-down style she wore so often at school. She's wearing a shirt that looks like it's from last year's Camden Pub Crawl tucked into high-waisted jean shorts, fully showing off her long, freckled legs.

And there's just something about the way that she carries herself, shoulders back and eyes bright, that projects a level of confidence he doesn't quite think she had a few years ago.

It has his heart doing all sorts of pathetic things all over again.

Maybe he's not actually over her.

She's got a light purple duffel bag thrown over her shoulder and a garment bag on her arm, and James remembers at the last possible minute that he needs to open the boot of his car for her to put her stuff in.

With literally anyone else, he'd get out of the car and help them load their bags - his mother would be appalled if she knew that he wasn't practising the 'gentlemanly manners' she'd instilled into him from the day he was born - but he knows Lily, and he knows that she'll insist on doing it herself anyways.

She's always had a massive independent streak - coupled with a distaste for anything remotely resembling a patriarchal norm - and it's one of the many (many) things he likes about her.

When she opens the passenger door, she's got a cheeky sort of smile that, were his heart not already hammering out a frantic rhythm in his chest, would definitely send his pulse skyrocketing.

Goddammit, she's so pretty.

"You didn't even offer to load my bag for me," she observes as she slides into the seat across from him. "What on earth would Euphemia say about that?"

"Euphemia probably still remembers the last time I tried that and you immediately smacked my hands away," he retorts, a smirk growing on his face to match her own, even though he's already been thinking about the fact that his mum would, in fact, give him a hard time for it.

"She did tell me later that she'd thought it was funny to see you put in your place like that," Lily muses as she puts her seatbelt on.

His mum had indeed gotten quite a laugh out of it, James recalls. She, Remus, and Peter had come to visit him and Sirius for a week in the summer after their first year, and James' mum had immediately become positively enamoured with both Lily and Remus, and proceeded to spend the remainder of the summer telling both James and Sirius respectively how wonderful they both were, in a not-so-subtle 'you would be perfect together and I want them as my child-in-law' sort of way.

Well, she'd gotten her wish with Sirius, at least.

He realises he's been quiet for far too long, and she's still grinning at him and probably expecting him to say something back to her. He runs his fingers through his hair - a nervous habit of his that he's never really been able to break - and asks, almost on autopilot, "Alright, Evans?"

She laughs at that, no doubt remembering the countless times he'd greeted her that exact way in school. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?" And after a brief pause, "You look good."

He's almost positive he misheard her at first, but the faint pink spreading across her cheeks - at least, he doesn't think he's imagining it - is proof that he heard her right.

"Er, you too," he manages, stumbling over his words and almost immediately mentally berating himself for it. How the hell is he so smooth sometimes and an absolute fucking disaster at others?

If she catches on to his awkwardness though, she doesn't show it. "How's work? Are you still at Sleekeazy's?"

When he'd graduated uni, with a degree in English Literature of all things that he had no idea how to apply in the real world, he'd panicked and taken the first job available to him - which just so happened to be in the marketing department of his dad's massive haircare company.

It turned out he kind of enjoyed the marketing aspect, but working for a hair company was… not his thing, to say the least.

"Nah, I left that about a year and a half ago," he tells her. "Now I'm working as a deputy communications director for a small nonprofit."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he answers, finally shifting the car into gear so that they can start off on this eight-hour journey of theirs. "It's all about providing resources for homeless LGBTQ youth - I don't know if you've ever seen Albus Dumbledore in a news article or anything, but it's his organisation."

"Wait, oh my god, I read his book last year!" Lily says, almost excitedly. "He's incredible, and the work he's doing for those kids is awesome."

"Yeah, he's a pretty solid guy," he confirms. "I really like it - I feel like I'm actually doing something good in the world, you know? And I just - god, so many of those kids remind me of Sirius as a teenager, except without anywhere to go when their parents kicked them out."

He's still not over the way Sirius was treated as a teenager, the way he'd arrived at the Potter's doorstep one January night during sixth form, shivering from the cold and sporting a massive bruise along the side of his face. He's pretty positive that, if he ever comes across any of Sirius' piece-of-shit homophobic family members ever again, he's not going to be able to fight back the urge to punch them right in the jaw, even though he knows that wouldn't accomplish anything.

But this… doing what he does now, it feels like accomplishing something.

"Hm, I'm surprised Remus never said anything about you changing jobs whenever you came up in conversation," Lily muses.

… They talk about him? Lily talks about him?

"I dunno," he says, flipping his turn signal on to turn left on Hendon. "Are you still working as a researcher for that ecological reserve?"

He already knows the answer is 'yes' - he'd panicked and called Remus almost immediately after Lily had proposed this whole road trip thing, and asked him for basically everything he knew about Lily since graduation - but he figures he'll ask the question anyways. Lily doesn't have to know that he's been a bit of a nervous wreck about this road trip, after all.

"I am," she answers cheerfully. "Still spending most of my day hanging out with frogs instead of humans."

"Well, good to know at least one of us actually found a good way to apply our degree," he jokes.

"Please," she replies, and from the tone of her voice alone, James can tell that she's both smiling and looking at him reproachfully all at once. "Don't tell me you don't still throw random literary references into everyday conversation."

He wracks his brain for an appropriate one to say in response, and goes with the first thing that comes to mind. " 'A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day.' "

She laughs brightly. "Some things never change." She pauses for a moment, then adds, "Fuck, what's that from? I feel like I should know it, but…"

"Dickinson." he answers, filling in the gap left by her silence.

"Oh, didn't you write a whole essay on how she was probably a lesbian at one point?" she asks.

"No," James defends immediately, immediately thinking back to the incident she's referring to. "Sirius used find and replace to replace every single instance of the word 'literary' with 'lesbian' in one of my final essays that term, and I only noticed ten minutes before I was set to turn it in."

"You should've kept it that way," she tells him. "I feel like most literature tutors would eat that shit right up."

James shrugs. "Honestly, you're probably right."

They fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but it quickly becomes a bit more uncomfortable when it's just the hum of the car's engine and the sounds of the city around them.

"Do you have any music?" Lily asks finally.

He honestly can't believe he'd somehow forgotten about the playlist entirely - there'd just been something about talking to her, catching up and immediately feeling like almost no time had passed at all, that had completely wiped his mind of everything else. "Oh. Yeah," he replies, grabbing his phone out of the cupholder and unlocking it. "There's a road trip playlist on my Spotify - just turn that on."

"You have a whole road trip playlist?" she asks, taking the phone from him and navigating to his Spotify app. "Oh god, this is brilliant."

She hits play, and is already singing along on the first note. "I promise that you'll never find another like me!"

And he finds himself thinking that no, he definitely won't.

***

They're less than an hour out of the city, driving along the M1, when James decides to make their first stop of the day.

"I don't know about you," James says to Lily, who's been alternating between singing along to the music playing through the speakers and exchanging stories about their lives since graduation, "but I desperately need some coffee right about now and there's a Costa coming up."

"Still addicted to caffeine, are we?" she teases.

"Not as bad as I was in uni," he replies. "I don't get four espresso shots in my lattes anymore, at the very least."

"Probably for the best," she agrees.

"Do you still only drink those Belgian Chocolate Frostinos in the summer?" he asks, remembering just how many times he and Sirius had ribbed her for her 'wimpy' taste in coffee beverages.

"Don't say that with such a tone of disdain," she shoots back. "They're basically a coffee milkshake - how could you not like that? But also, I can't believe you still remember my coffee order."

He's not sure he could forget anything about her - even something as simple as her (terrible) coffee order - even if he tried. But he tries to play it off without acknowledging just how many little details about her that he's got memorised. "Your shit taste in coffee is pretty hard to forget."

"Those are fighting words, James Potter," she replies playfully. "And here I was about to offer to pay for your coffee since you're the one driving - but now you've come for Frostinos in a way I can't accept."

"They're not bad," he retorts. "They're just a weak drink."

"Ah right, because you're the expert on strong drinks. It's not like you were too scared to shoot tequila until our third year or anything like that."

He doesn't point out that he still hates shooting tequila to this day, and will only do it when he's already sufficiently plastered as to not remember his distaste for them. "Yeah, well, if you recall correctly, there was one night our first year where I was the only one who didn't do three rounds of tequila shots, and coincidentally was also the only one who didn't end up puking in the bushes in George Square Gardens."

"And you missed an important rite of passage in that moment," she informs him seriously, just as they're pulling into the Costa Coffee.

"Somehow, I don't feel all that deprived," he replies, parking and turning the car off.

She laughs. "Well, you can't miss what you've never had."

They both get out of the car, falling into step on their way into the café. And he's kind of surprised, in that moment, to realise just how easy all of this has been. The way they've fallen into conversation and good-natured teasing so easily makes it seem like it's only been hours since they last saw one another, not years. Being with her is almost effortless - sans the few times she's nearly made him forget how to breathe - and he's…

Fuck, he's not even a little bit over her.

One hour in a car is apparently all he needed to go right back to being head over heels for her, which is only slightly alarming; at this rate, he'll probably be ready to propose marriage by the time they get to Edinburgh in seven more hours.

Which is nothing short of ridiculous - honestly, he doesn't even know if she's seeing someone, for heaven's sake. Remus had said she wasn't, but those things can change at the drop of a hat, and Lily's an absolute fucking catch, so he really wouldn't be even a little surprised if she's somehow in a committed relationship that Remus doesn't know about.

"Okay, but seriously," Lily says, looking up at him, "what do you want to drink? It's my treat."

"You don't have to," he answers automatically.

"You're literally sitting behind the wheel of a car for eight hours while I fuck around on my phone because we both know I hate driving - let me buy you a damn coffee, Potter."

He doesn't actually want to fight her on this - and she'd win anyways - so he surrenders pretty easily. "Fine - I'll have a flat white."

They get their drinks - James' in a tiny cup and Lily's in a much larger one complete with whipped cream and chocolate syrup - and set out on the road again.

The drive itself is pretty nondescript - they're just driving down the same freeway for an absurdly long amount of time - so they have to come up with other things to pass the time. At one point, Lily just starts scrolling through a list of Shakespeare quotes to see if James can give the play they came from - he only misses like two or three, and one of those was from Titus Andronicus, and he fucking hates that play so he feels like that one's an acceptable miss.

And then somehow, they end up in a super nostalgic conversation of some of their most notable shared moments at university.

"Do you remember the day we met?"

If James could bang his head against the steering wheel without putting both him and Lily in serious danger, he would. "Unfortunately."

Then he quickly corrects himself, lest she somehow interpret that the wrong way. "Not because of meeting you - just because of the fact that I made a total arse of myself."

"Yeah, I was pretty convinced I was going to hate you," she replies, amused. "And I'm pretty sure I told Remus that multiple times the first time the two of us went over to hang out with you and Sirius."

"Well, I fucking deserved it."

He'd been a first year, in a starting position on the football team and far too hyped up by the university population than any eighteen-year-old ever should be, and that newfound popularity had completely gone to his head. He'd thought he was on top of the world, that he could get anything he wanted, anyone he wanted.

It had been some freshers party that he and Sirius had pregamed just a little too much, and by the time they'd shown up to the actual event, James felt fucking invincible.

"You must've tried to hit on me… what, five separate times? All worse pick-up lines than the ones before?"

He groans. "Yes, I was a drunk asshole who thought you were the prettiest girl in the room and that as a result we were obviously a match made in heaven. I clearly made some pretty shitty decisions that night."

"So who was the prettiest girl in the room that night then?"

James falters, and it's a good thing the car's set on cruise because his foot might've just fallen off the gas pedal otherwise. "What?"

"You said you made some pretty shitty decisions that night, one of which was that I was the prettiest girl in the room," she answers, sounding nonchalant in a way that James thinks might be forced. "If it wasn't me, who was it, in your much-more-sober-now opinion?"

What the fuck kind of question is that?

He grapples with what she's just asked for a moment - is she somehow trying to gauge who he thinks is the fittest bird they went to school with? And why does she even care about that? And how on earth is he meant to answer this in a way that doesn't end with her getting upset with him?

Eventually, he just decides to go for honesty, but he keeps his eyes steadfastly on the road ahead of him when he answers. "Actually, that was perhaps the only non-shitty decision I made that night. You were easily the prettiest girl there - in both my drunk and sober opinions."

It's silent between the two of them for a few moments. "Oh."

And then a second later, "So you're not seeing Emmeline Vance?"

That might be an even weirder question than the last one. Emmeline had been on the women's football team, and they'd been close, but his feelings towards her have never been anything even remotely more than friendly. "No," he tells her immediately. "Where'd you get that idea from?"

"I… I don't know," she replies, and she sounds almost… nervous? "You posted a picture with her on Instagram a few weeks ago and I just… I don't know, I just thought maybe - "

"We were just catching up over dinner," he explains. "We're definitely not, you know, anything close to… that."

"Oh. That's… good, I guess."

That's good? Honestly, how the fresh hell is he meant to interpret that?

For some reason, the thing that comes out of his mouth next isn't a request for an explanation. Instead, it's a stilted "Are you? You know, seeing anyone?"

"I'm not."

"I… good to know."

Fuck, for all that James had been thinking that they were so good at not being awkward just an hour or so ago, they're sure being whole ass disasters right now. And honestly, 'good to know'? Were they not just talking about the time he'd drunkenly hit on her despite her not showing any interest? And his response to finding out that she's single is to say something that… practically implies he plans on using that information later?

Foot, meet mouth.

They settle into a slightly uncomfortable silence, and it's just John Mayer coming through the speakers.

I want to know the real thing about you, so I can see you in a new light…

***

The tension doesn't last much longer, because James' stomach starts growling and it becomes apparent that they'll need to stop for lunch soon.

"Do you want me to look up some good places to stop?" Lily asks, fishing her phone out of her bag.

"Yeah, that'd be good."

She sits back up in her seat. "Oh fuck, mine's dead - I completely forgot to charge it last night. Can I use yours instead?"

"Go for it," he replies. He unlocks the phone for her and hands it over, letting her find some random little sandwich place near Leicester that looks decent.

They decide to sit and eat instead of trying to eat on the road, and sitting across from her in a little two-person booth unexpectedly feels very much like they're on a date.

He feels his hands start to get clammy as they sit down with their food - despite the fact that his brain knows full well this isn't anything resembling a date and that they're just eating here together out of necessity and a need to stretch their limbs, he still can't help but feel something between them - some sort of energy that he can't quite put his finger on - that makes this seem like perhaps there's more to it.

But he's definitely just thinking too far into things. Lily's shown absolutely no signs of getting a similar vibe from, happily chatting with him as she eats.

The topic of Sirius and Remus suddenly comes up - fitting, really, as it's their wedding that they're headed to at the moment.

"How does it feel, knowing that your two closest friends are going to be getting married this time tomorrow?"

James just shrugs. "Honestly, with the way they act, it's basically like they've been married for a while. I just want the actual ceremony part over with so that mum can stop frantically texting me about it every five minutes."

"Oh yeah, I saw that," she tells him. "You had a few messages come in from her when I was changing songs."

James takes that moment to thank his lucky stars that his mum doesn't know he's driving up to the wedding with Lily; otherwise, he's sure she would've texted him a million times today about her, which would've been… awkward to explain away, at the very least.

"None of it was all that important though - she just likes having someone to report everything back to, and apparently that's my job in this case."

"Somehow, I doubt she'd be pleased to know you were calling her texts 'unimportant'," she teases, taking a sip of her drink.

"And you better not tell her," he warns, but he can't even keep the grin off his face as he does so.

"Fine, I'll keep quiet, if only to save your head," she replies after a moment of thought.

Then she changes the subject entirely. "But man, I'm thrilled for Sirius and Remus. Meeting the love of your life in the first month of uni is basically the dream, isn't it?"

Well yes, James wants to reply, but only when they also feel the same way.

But he doesn't voice anything even remotely close to that - they've only just gotten over their last bout of awkwardness, and he'd quite like to avoid any more of those if he can help it.

He shrugs, playing way cooler than he actually feels. "Yeah, I guess. At the very least, it's convenient for all those themed parties - they always went in some sort of couples costume."

"Says the bloke who wore basically the same costume for like half of them."

"Hey," he argues, "if the theme fits, why not go with an old standard?"

She laughs. "You really did get a whole lot of mileage out of those reindeer antlers."

He reflects back on that fondly - he honestly might still have that same pair of reindeer antlers somewhere, probably boxed up at his parents' house with some other memorabilia from university. "I really think my favourite was that pun party though, where I did the whole toga thing as well and called it 'deer god.' "

She gives him a look like she can see straight through him. "You just liked that one because you got to walk around shirtless and make all the girls in the college swoon over you."

"All the girls? Does that include you, Evans?" It's overly cheeky - and exactly the type of shit he would've pulled the first night they met - and he worries briefly that he might've gone too far this time.

She coughs, and it takes her a few seconds to answer him. "Obviously not. It takes a lot more to sway me than a bloke wearing a bedsheet as clothing."

He's strangely disappointed by that response, but he doesn't really know what else he was expecting either. That she was somehow magically swept off her feet by the mere sight of him?

No, Lily requires much more than appearances to be wooed, something he perhaps knows better than anyone.

"Sounds about right," he replies, and there's definitely a little bitterness in his tone that he wishes wasn't there. "At least mine was better than Pete's costume that night."

"Oh god," she laughs, "that was when he wore the nightstand, wasn't it? He was dressed as a 'one night stand' or something like that?"

"Yep. Seemed to think it would get him laid, for reasons I still don't fully understand."

Lily shakes her head. "Honestly, not his best plan. I'd rather go home with a bloke in a bedsheet than a bloke wearing a literal table."

James almost chokes on his sandwich at that. It probably means nothing, but god, the casual implication of going home with him almost does him in entirely.

He maintains that she really might be the death of him before they even make it to Edinburgh. Sirius is just going to have to find a new best man, because James is going to be fully out-of-commission by that point.

If he had maybe just the tiniest bit more courage - and, er, wasn't going to be stuck in a car with her for another four hours or so - he might say something about that comment. Or about a lot of her behaviour today, really.

But he stays silent, their conversation giving way to the song playing over the café speakers, Lily absentmindedly humming along with the lyrics while she waits for him to finish eating.

And I'm on my way, driving at ninety down those country lanes -

He makes a mental note to add more Ed Sheeran to their playlist.

***

They're more than halfway there now; after lunch, Lily had fallen asleep for what was honestly less than half an hour, but somehow seems like the end of the world to her.

"I'm supposed to keep you company, not fall asleep and leave you to fend for yourself," she says, in the middle of what must her fifth apology.

"I can handle driving alone for a little bit - it's fine, Lily," he tells her.

He doesn't mention that, when she'd fallen asleep, elbow resting on the centre console and head in her hand, she'd practically been resting against his shoulder, and he hadn't really minded that one bit.

"I'll be awake for the rest of the drive though," she insists. "We're only, what, three hours away now?"

"I've not got a map open, but that sounds about right," he replies.

Truthfully, he's just been driving along the A1 without paying much attention to their ETA - he figures it'll be awhile before any driving directions become relevant again.

"Well then, I've got three hours left of not taking any more naps," she answers simply. "Here, let me put on some good hype-up music."

He unlocks his phone and hands it to her again. "I've got no shortage of that."

She scrolls through the playlist for a little bit before finding something she's satisfied with. They start talking again - Lily tells him some story about the bar her roommate Marlene works at that somehow involves a low-level celebrity, a rubber chicken, and a real chicken; it's so absurd that, if she didn't swear up and down that she's got pictures of the whole thing that she'll show him when he's not driving, he'd definitely think she'd invented the whole thing.

"How do you somehow confuse those two?" he can't help but ask.

"I mean, it's a bar. Alcohol makes idiots of us all."

"Somehow I don't think I've ever been so drunk that I put a rubber chicken in a carrying pen and let a live chicken loose in a bar," he replies with a snort.

"Yeah, okay, that part was particularly stupid," she concedes, and the music suddenly shifts to a slow ballad. "Okay, we're definitely changing this."

She picks up his phone. "Shit, it's locked again."

He takes a hand off the wheel and holds it out to her. "Here, hand it to me, I'll unlock it."

"Just tell me your passcode," she replies. "I promise I'm not going to steal your phone or anything."

He lets out a short laugh at that. "Yeah, okay, it's not like you can make a run for it with my phone while I'm going seventy down the freeway. It's Lily: 5-4-5-9."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her freeze like a deer in headlights, and it's only then that he realises the magnitude of what he just said.

She's his fucking phone password - granted, she has been since uni and he's kept the password for so long because that pattern of screen taps is just automatic at this point, but still.

It's honestly a miracle he doesn't somehow crash the car right then and there.

The silence between them lingers for a few moments longer, the only sound coming from the One Direction song still playing through the speakers.

"Your phone password is… me?"

Much to his surprise, Lily doesn't actually sound entirely repulsed by this revelation; instead, she just sounds genuinely stunned.

"It's nothing," he replies, his words coming out in a rush instead of the cool, casual way he'd hoped they would. And really, if he were panicking slightly less right now, he might've come up with a good cover - some other Lily he knew, or literally anything other than a clear acknowledgement that yes, she is his phone password, but alas.

"No, it's not nothing." She's back to her normal tone again. "And if nothing else, I'd like to at least know why - maybe not necessarily while you're driving, but at the very least, at our next pit stop."

He… yeah, he supposes owes her that much.

But how does he even explain that away without revealing exactly how he's felt about her for all these years? And while they've seemed perfectly friendly for this whole trip - and for a few brief moments, maybe even more than that - he's not sure how confessing that he's basically been in love with her for five years now will affect that comfortable camaraderie of theirs.

"Okay, yeah, that's fair," he concedes, tightening his grip on the wheel and vowing not to look over at her, not to reveal anything just yet.

"We'll stop at the next rest area then?"

"Sounds good," he answers, and an awkward silence settles over them again. Lily obviously doesn't want to type her own name into his phone to unlock it, so the radio continues to play the same slow One Direction love song. And as soon as the chorus starts, he has to fight off the urge to outwardly cringe, because god, what the fuck was he thinking, putting a song that hits quite so close to home on this playlist?

I have loved you since we were eighteen, long before we both thought the same thing...

Luckily (or unluckily, he's not entirely sure which), there's a rest area just a few kilometres away.

It's good that he's saved from spending too much longer stewing in the aftermath of his own stupidity, but not-so-good in the fact that he now has very little time to figure out just how to express all of this.

He's still mentally running through his options - does he tell her the full truth? part of it? a bold-faced lie that he hopes she doesn't call him out on? - when he pulls into a parking space. He takes as long as humanly possible to put the car in park and turn it off, entertaining the vague fantasy that maybe if he stalls just a little bit longer, the perfect way to handle this situation will just pop into his head.

He doesn't get that massive epiphany, but his prolonged silence does result in Lily being the first to speak. "I'm going to tell you something, but in exchange, you have to promise to be totally, one-hundred percent honest with me."

That seems like a massively risky gamble, but James honestly doesn't think it's actually possible to dig himself into a deeper hole than the one he's already dug himself - so what's the harm, really?

"Okay."

And if he thought he even had an inkling of an idea of what she was going to say, he's very swiftly proven wrong. "I've fancied you since our second year at UoE."

She's… "What?"

"Do you remember the night of that pun party we were talking about earlier? When you were dressed up in those reindeer antlers and a bedsheet?"

"Er… yes," he replies slowly, entirely unaware of where this is going.

"That was the night Petunia uninvited me from her wedding, do you remember that?" she adds, and when James looks over at her, she's looking at her hands folded across her lap.

He does remember that, actually, although he'd never thought much of it having any deeper significance until now. He'd found her outside the college bar, sitting on one of the steps and staring numbly at her phone, and he'd just… he'd done what any good friend ought to do.

"You found me outside and just… dropped everything. You left your friends and that girl you'd been flirting with all night and took me to that greasy chippy that we both know you hated and went back to my place with me and watched Heathers with me for maybe the hundredth time and didn't leave until it was almost three a.m. even though you had an early morning football practice because you wanted to be sure I was okay."

She looks up, meeting his eyes. "And it's a little ridiculous that it took Petunia's cruelty to make me realise it, because I mean, that wasn't like the first time I'd realised you were capable of being nice or anything - I'd known that, and I'd known I liked you as a person and thought you were fit and all that, awful first impressions be damned, but something… when you left that night and it hit me that you'd magically replaced all that hurt and betrayal with something better, something just clicked."

He's silent for a few moments, processing everything she's just said. "Why didn't you say anything?"

It's the most hypocritical question in the history of hypocritical questions, given his own silence on his feelings for her, but it comes out of his mouth nonetheless.

"I don't know," she answers, looking away from him again. "I didn't know how you felt about me, and I didn't want to do anything while we were at school that was going to mess up our friend group, and then we'd graduated and I'd never said anything and it felt too little too late at that point."

"You… didn't know how I felt about you?" he asks dumbly. "I spent the first night I met you just constantly hitting on you - I feel like that's pretty damn obvious."

"And you were completely plastered and apologised for it profusely afterwards and avoided the subject any time it came up again - it didn't exactly seem like it was a feeling you maintained while sober."

"Because I felt like a twat!" he defends. "And you'd very clearly shown me you weren't interested, so I wasn't about to keep flirting with you after that. But honestly, I'm not great at being subtle - Sirius, Remus, and Peter were constantly giving me shit for acting like an idiot around you. I'm not sure how you never noticed."

"So this is… oh god, this is why Remus was so keen that I drive up to the wedding with you," she says, sounding like she's suddenly had an epiphany of sorts.

He's entirely thrown off-guard by her once again. "What?"

"I was… god, this is embarrassing to admit out loud, but I was talking to Remus a few weeks ago and I started asking about you... and Remus, er, knows about my feelings and he gave me the idea that maybe I should use their wedding weekend as a chance to catch up with you and… fuck, now that I think about it, he was definitely giving really heavy hints that you fancied me back in uni as well."

"Oh my god," James says, realisation suddenly dawning on him, "that dirty double agent."

"Double agent?"

"As soon as you texted me about driving up together, I panicked and called Remus, and the fucker acted entirely oblivious to the whole thing," he explains, his eureka moment entirely outweighing any potential embarrassment he might've felt about telling her that. "Said you probably just wanted to 'spend some quality time with me' or… oh."

That was definitely meant as a hint.

"So all of this was Remus playing matchmaker," Lily concludes. "Or, not even matchmaker really, just…"

"Apparently he came to the conclusion that putting us in a car together for eight hours would be the only way one of us would finally pluck up the courage to say something," he finishes.

"Although I suppose neither of us actually did that… at least not on purpose."

Now that the initial shock has worn off, it starts to sink in that oh my god, she actually has feelings for him - that she's had them for five whole years now.

She looks at him a bit mischievously, and he realises that they've somehow leaned in towards each other over the course of the conversation. "You still haven't told me why my name is your phone password."

Instead of telling her why, he shows her, because they've got so, so much lost time to make up for. One of his hands comes up to cup her cheek, delicately, as he takes in the feeling of her skin against his hands and commits it to memory, and he closes the remaining gap between the two of them and presses his lips against her own.

It takes them a second to get things right - on Lily's part because it takes her a second to realise what's happening, and on James' part because he can't stop fucking smiling and it's making the kissing part difficult, but once they find their rhythm… holy fuck is it a rhythm.

One of her hands curls around the collar of his T-shirt as she deepens the kiss, and they're at such an awkward angle because they're literally in the driver and passenger seats of a car, but none of that even matters because he's kissing Lily Evans and she's kissing him back and it's quite literally everything he'd ever hoped it would be and more.

Everything he has, everything he's felt for the last six years, he's pouring into this. And maybe he should be nervous about that level of intensity of it, nervous that it's too much for a first kiss after she's only just told him that she likes him too, but he… he's never had much self-control when it comes to her, and this seems to be no exception. He doesn't think he could tone it down even if he wanted to.

One of his hands slides down her side, and she makes a soft little moaning sound into the kiss that practically does him in. When he'd thought to himself that she was going to be the death of him, he hadn't exactly pictured it happening this way, but he's quite okay with it.

Although then again, he'd actually like to do quite a bit more of this before dying, so maybe scratch that. He can't snog the girl of his dreams if he's dead.

Her hand slides from his collar and down his chest, and he's hyper-aware of everywhere her fingers touch, and -

BEEEEEEP.

He jumps back immediately, removing his offending elbow from where it had accidentally collided with the car's horn. "Shit!"

Lily laughs, and when James looks at her, she's flushed and her lips are a little swollen, and he did that. "Cars are perhaps not the best place for impromptu snogging sessions," she says, smirking just a little.

"No, not really," he agrees. "Not sure why there are so many songs about it."

"I think those usually involve making use of the backseat instead."

He glances at the backseat of his car, which doesn't actually have all that much stuff in it, but at the same time...

He's pretty sure that, if they keep going, he's not going to want to stop. And while shagging in the back of a car may be another one of those things that people like writing songs about, he'd much rather prefer, say, a hotel bed for that type of thing.

Lily must notice his apprehension, because she laughs again. "I'm not proposing we start snogging in your backseat," she tells him. "We can wait until we get to the hotel."

"How far away is that again?" He knows he asked that question not too long ago, but he's honestly completely forgotten the answer in the time since then.

A lot has happened in that time period, sue him.

"A little under three hours."

A little under three hours. That's practically no time at all. He can do that.

When they finally pull out of the rest area parking lot and get back on the road, James turns the music volume back up again, and it's a rather fitting song for the way Lily's hand is currently reaching over the centre console and resting on his thigh.

Can't keep my hands to myself - I mean I could, but why would I want to?

***

It turns out that three hours actually feels like an endlessly long amount of time when faced with a newfound impatience to get to one's destination.

They're just as chatty as they were before - the only thing that's changed from the first half of their trip is that there are noticeably fewer weird moments between the two of them… which, in hindsight, all suddenly make a lot of sense now. Well, that, and the way Lily's hands will occasionally reach over and rest on his knee, his shoulder, his bicep, and linger there for just a few moments, like she's trying to confirm that he's still real, like all of this is still real.

He doesn't fully blame her; he still can't really believe it's real either.

But after approximately one hundred and eighty agonising minutes in the car, they pull into the hotel where everyone's rooms for the wedding are booked. His parking job is… definitely not his best work, but he's not spending a single moment more in this car than necessary.

He opens the boot and retrieves his own bag, and just like on the way here, he lets her pick up her duffel bag herself. But as soon as the car's locked, he can't stop himself from sliding his free hand into her own, because he's no longer in the driver's seat of a car anymore and he's finally free to do something with his hands besides hold onto a steering wheel.

"I'm assuming… did you book a hotel room with Pete?" Lily asks him, as they fall into step.

"Nah, I got my own room," he answers. He hadn't had a specific reason not to share a room when he'd made his reservation, but god is he grateful for it now.

"So did I," she replies.

He almost wants to ask her to just stay in his, but he's not sure… maybe it's too soon for that? Or too forward?

So he bites his tongue, content to just run his thumb along the back of her hand as they walk into the hotel lobby and up to the desk.

"Hi, we need to check into our rooms?"

The concierge looks up from her computer at the both of them, almost disinterestedly. "Last name?"

"There's two separate rooms," James clarifies. "One under James Potter, one under Lily Evans."

The woman starts pulling up their room details, and James can't help but look over at Lily while they wait. He's spent three whole hours waiting to kiss her again - which isn't that much time, in the grand scheme of things, but they're making up for five years of lost time - and now they're so close. All he needs is their damn room keys, and he can invite her up to his for a little bit before dinner, and -

"It looks like you two are booked in the same room, actually."

James' head snaps up to look at the concierge again. "I didn't - "

She scrolls a little. "It looks like the change was made by the wedding party who owns the block of room reservations."

The... wedding party? That means -

He and Lily come to the same realisation at the same time. "Remus," they both say aloud, almost in unison.

"Yes?"

James whirls around to find both of his best friends, sitting on a couch in the lobby with drinks in hand. How he missed them when they walked in is a mystery, but he supposes he might've been a bit preoccupied with other things.

He blinks at the two of them, trying to form words. "You - you changed my hotel reservation?"

Remus smirks at him. "No, that was all Sirius."

"And technically," Sirius chimes in, "I didn't change your reservation at all. I just cancelled Lily's."

"I - why?"

"Because Remus here had to listen to not one, but both of you go on about each other in the weeks leading up to this weekend, and there was quite enough of you two being mutually pining idiots in university for it to still be continuing to this day," Sirius explains, throwing an arm around his fiancé. "So it felt necessary to take matters into our own hands… although, from the looks of things, you two have managed to sort things out already."

Sirius' eyes drop meaningfully, and James follows his gaze to realise that Lily's hand is still in his.

James opens his mouth to respond, but Lily beats him to the punch. "Finding out a bloke uses your name as his phone password mid-drive tends to do that, yeah. But if you'll excuse us, we've got a shared hotel room to take advantage of, so…"

She flashes the room key at the two of them - James isn't sure when she managed to collect it from the woman at the desk, but she's got it nonetheless - and he feels his heart fill with affection for her all over again.

And he also very, very much wants to follow through on her plan.

"We'll see you tonight," he says hurriedly, and he's quite positive that his friends are going to have a nice laugh at how quickly he drags Lily over to the elevators.

Does he care? Absolutely fucking not.

It's practically a mad dash to their room after that - it seems Lily is just as impatient as he is - and they've only been in the room long enough to set their bags on the floor before Lily has absolutely eliminated even the slightest breath of air between their bodies, rising up on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"So, what do you say? Worth the drive?" She's got a sly smile on her face, and her green eyes are positively sparkling.

"Without question," he confirms, his hands settling on her hips almost automatically as he drops his head down, resting his forehead against hers.

There's a beat, a breath, and then her lips are on his all over again.

His reaction is instantaneous, one hand tangling in her hair while the other wraps tighter around her waist, and god, it's even better the second time - although that's likely at least in part due to the fact that they're not at some weird angle in James' tiny car this time around.

It's safe to say that absolutely none of this was what he was anticipating when he picked Lily up from her apartment in Camden Town this morning, but he's more than happy with the results.

One short little road trip, that's all it was, and it got him this.

#jily fanfiction #jily fic #jily #james potter #lily evans #hp #hp fic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #marauders era #modern au #roadtrip au #james and lily

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zapcamon · 6 years ago

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A young woman stands alone in the guest bedroom. The woman is holding what seems to be a poorly photocopied photo of Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter, albeit with crude marker alterations. It’s the best you can do, really. You’re an aspiring architect, goddammit, not an artist!

You drop it somewhere in front of the bed, where it can be easily seen by whomever walks into the door. You really, really don’t want to make your disappearance a mystery. Granted, this act of a “farewell” is pretty vague on it’s own but you’re expecting that they’re curious enough to turn it over.

On the other side is more crude marker squiggles, except this time it happens to be your own handwriting. You were seriously debating on what to put, the limited space on the paper isn’t quite helpful. However, it may get you out of the habit of oversharing so you can just say what’s important. With a yellow, and much finer instrument, it’s scrawled as so.

“hey so i dont know when or if im coming back. i cant deny that my ass would be dead w/o u guys. the babies are w me now (’cept ms tinkles) so dont worry abt them. im sorry it had to go like this but its the only way i could do it w/o hurting either of us. it was a fun ride and i love u both. not to pull a stock movie phrase but i think it’s better this way. for everyone. and thank you, you lovable dorks

ps nero’s hot uncle, if ur reading this pls keep in touch >;)”

This is silly. This is incredibly silly. This is basically a Dear John letter but with lesser stakes. You don’t even LIKE romcoms what’s up with you?

A lot of things really. You don’t want to tell them upfront because you don’t want their reactions to influence an action you’re already dead-set on doing. You’ve come to terms that you really are a coward sometimes. That’s always been your problem. You see a gap on the floor, you immediately try to pole-vault across it without understanding the risks. You persistently leap off the metaphorical ground, flailing your lanky legs to search for metaphorical footing but instead you fall into the metaphorical hole to your metaphorical death. You never had the equipment nor the experience to deal with such matters. That’s why it crashes down whenever something goes wrong. That’s why you can’t help but think this whole reason why you’ve been so upset all along is...

You clearly need them more than they need you. It’s sickens you. You’re not supposed to “need” anyone. You’re supposed to be living on your own to make ends meet while searching clues for Lauriam. Not that you need HIM eit-

Fuck it, yes you do. You’ve always needed someone. Going around house-to-house for anyone giving you the time of day is proof of that as well. You miss him so much, and it’s time he’s on the forefront of your mind again. Lest you lose your way again to trivial romantic bullshit that ends up going anywhere.

It’s hard to not cry. Thinking of everything that lead up to this, thinking how much time you wasted, thinking how really fucking stupid you really are. You have to immediately wipe away your wet eyes, however. If Nero senses you crying again, he’ll have to march up here and you’ll have to explain yourself.

The bruises surrounding your body are a constant reminder of what brought you here. They make it difficult to just leave this place behind, but you’ll manage. You grab your three cats and walk towards a corridor of darkness. If this was some sentimental anime, you would have perhaps took one last look back, sigh morosely and give one more quiet parting word despite being in an empty room. But life’s more than a cheesy romcom or anime. Life’s about having to pull the bandage off quick so you don’t feel the pain. Sometimes that means leave without saying a word and not looking back.

It’s time to go back to your real home now.

#x2gbar #rageinside #ooc post #ic status #long post //

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markrichardson · 6 years ago

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My Year in Spotify Listening

Like a lot of people I checked out the Spotify year-end summary thingy, and since Spotify is only a certain percentage of my listening, the results were surprising, and I tried to figure out what it meant. In general, I listen to new music via iTunes, if I am sent promos. That only encompasses a certain amount of new music of course, but if I’m sent a download, I tend to use that for my listening all year long. Often, I’m “done with” an album more or less by the time it comes out, but sometimes I’ll keep listening (as w/ DJ Koze this year) and I do that with my promo files. My Spotify listening tends to be a mix of things I stick on a few different playlists based on mood or genre, and they could come from anywhere (but they aren’t usually new).

In terms of my favorite artists (Bill Evans wound up in my top spot, somehow, followed by Joni Mitchell) it was hard to figure out how it’d happened, because I didn’t spend the year obsessed with either. Then I looked at my 100 most played songs, and that did bring back a few things. I’m not sure if the whole list is in order, but the first 5 songs in the playlist are the 5 listed when Spotify gave me my most-listened-to tracks of the year, so I think so? Anyway, that’s what I am going with here. This is how my Top 10 songs show up on the playlist, in order, with one exception: in the middle of the list was Bow Wow Wow’s “See Jungle,” which I already wrote about on Tumblr 8 years ago (and about which I have very little to say now, except that yes I do still listen to this song a fair amount), so I’ve omitted that and included No. 11.

Wussy: “Runaway” This was my favorite song of the year, it has 600 plays on Youtube and 5,400 on Spotify, which makes me a little sad. Technically it’s not from this year—Wussy put this out on a small-release tape or CD-R a few years ago—but I’m still counting it. This is the rare case where the streaming media playcounts tend to match the responses of folks I’ve talked to about this song—I mentioned to 4 or 5 people, and in each case they said “Yeah that’s kind of nice I guess...why do you like it so much?” I’ll try to answer that here.

First I should say that I have no real interest in or knowledge of Wussy. They’re an indie rock band from Ohio, most notable at this point for the fact that Robert Christgau loves them, and has written rapturous reviews of their work over the years, which surely has helped them to achieve whatever small amount of notoriety they have. I checked them out here and there but they didn’t make much of an impression on me. I wish I could remember how I came across this particular song, but I can’t, probably either Twitter or a streaming media algorithm. But I loved it immediately, like, stop-what-you-are-doing-and-listen kind of loved. It just clicked.

The first thing that comes to mind is the chorus: “I love you, let’s run away.” That’s the theme of so many of my favorite songs, I mean, the first album I bought in my life was “Born to Run,” and if you could sum up the first three Springsteen albums in in 6 words, “I love you, let’s run away” wouldn’t be bad. And I think I liked that this song didn’t try for poetic phrasing, just said it in the simplest way possible.

But the romance of a song like this has a shade of darkness to it, and that draws me in even more. Escape is never a long-term strategy. Eventually you have to figure out how to make life work when you’re in the thick of it. So while it’s such an appealing dream to exit the world with someone you’re crazy about, there is a shelf life to that sort of gesture. I relate to this idea of being fed up with everything in the moment and wanting to jump in the car with the only person who gets you, but eventually, the car is is going to need gas. What then?

I didn’t know when I first heard this song that it was a cover, so the immediate impact of it was as a Wussy song. But I learned that it was written and recorded by another Ohio artist that people in the band had known, a woman named Jenny Mae. She died last year. Pitchfork did a news story on her passing. She was 49. And when I found that it was her song, I listened to her version and I loved it almost as much (but not quite), though her take also made my Spotify Top 20. I did think enough of her version to order the 7-inch, which was her first release. When I read about Jenny Mae’s life, the song took on another layer of meaning. She suffered from mental illness and self-medicated with alcohol. And she was described by people who knew her as brilliant and creative and hilarious but also impulsive and self-destructive. Which for me gives a sentiment like “No one likes us anyway / I hate my job / Sweet, sweet are the innocent / I love you, let’s run away” and “40 ounce between your legs/ Shakin up my heart / Turn around and look at me / Light another smoke” a different tint. These are the kinds of things you say when in the throes of a rush of feeling, but they’re not impulses you can safely follow for a lifetime, even though goddammit, sometimes I want to.

Bo Diddley: “Nursery Rhyme” In Richmond early this year I bought an old Bo Diddley album called The Originator. I saw it in a used bin, it was $20, and, it was pure instinct, I had a feeling it was interesting. For me, buying used records, $20 is a fair amount of money, I don’t pay that for something I’ve no idea about, typically. But something compelled me to pick it up. I was intrigued that it had none of the hits I knew. And I took it home and when I put it on a short while later it blew my mind. This surprised me because on the one hand it sounds so much like the idea of “Bo Diddley” I keep in my brain, the one rhythm we know from the song he named after himself, but this was just so controlled, so well rendered, with so much atmosphere. The whole thing is brilliant. I became particularly obsessed with this cut from the record, and then I started exploring the “Bo Diddley” beat in general, reading whatever I could about it and listening to examples. This kind of random deep-dive is the best thing about the internet era for a music fan.

Mulatu Asatke: “Tezeta (Nostalgia” At nights when I hang out with my Mom at her condo in Michigan I play music over a Bluetooth speaker I bought a year ago. My Mom’s default has for a while been to put the television on, but at some point I asked her about playing music instead so we could talk or just hang out, and she grew to like it. Sometimes we’ll chat about stuff, and sometimes she will play Candy Crush on her iPad while I do things on my phone, which sounds distant but is actually very comforting to me. One of the things I’m doing on my phone during these evenings is finding songs to play. It’s quite fun (and interesting) for me to say to myself “What is a playlist that would make my Mom happy?” and then try and figure out what that might be on the fly. She was never really a music person so I don’t have a lot to go on, mostly her age, a story or two about a song she liked, and a vague knowledge of what she might have heard on the radio in my lifetime.

In September, my Dad died, and I stayed with my Mom in her condo for a number of days that month. I felt a strange mix of feelings. On the one hand, he was father, I missed him, I thought about never being able to talk to him again, to not be able to share the things in my life. I thought about the fact that I wouldn’t be able to learn more about his life, my knowledge of which is pretty sketchy. There were all the usual things a person would be sad about. But then there was the fact that he had a severe and debilitating case of Parkinson’s disease for the last eight years, and at times he suffered so terribly. I remembered how on a few occasions he called me while he was delusional, he would tell me that he was sure he was going to die. One time, he told me that he saw someone in the driveway who was going to kill him. Another time, he said that it was hard to explain but that he had been split into two people, and he couldn’t take it, he was terrified. I told him that it would be better tomorrow and he yelled, “I’m going to be dead by tomorrow!” I would get calls like this while I was walking to work in Brooklyn 700 miles away, and I would feel so helpless. And so when he passed, I thought about him during situations like that, and also felt like maybe not he had some peace.

A night or two after my Dad died I was sitting with my Mom, talking, and playing music. She dug out some old photos and we were looking at them, pictures from her in high school that I had never seen. I wanted to see everything, learn every detail. And over that Bluetooth speaker I was playing some random playlist I had found called something like “Jazz for late night.” I wanted background music. And while we were hanging out and talking, this song came on, “Tezeta” by the Ethiopian jazz bandleader Mulatu Astatke. And man, it’s hard to describe, but the mood of this song so perfectly captured the exact feeling I had. The phrase that comes to mind is “bombed out,” that’s the way it seemed, like I’d been beaten up and thrown in a ditch and my ears were ringing and now I was trying to reorient myself after all that had happened. There was a feeling of weariness and sadness but also a feeling that life continues, that we have to gather our memories and keep on. And this impossibly beautiful song captured every bit of that, the one-chord riff moving ahead, in spite of it all, while the sax line captures all the sadness dripping off everything at the same time. I listened to it constantly in the weeks afterward.

Galaxie 500: “Fourth of July” (live) One of my favorite songs by one of my favorite band in my favorite version. This song is indicative of how (as with all songs on this list) when I’m in the mood I can listen to one track over and over. On a couple of occasions in 2018, I listened to this maybe 8 or 9 times in a row, immediately hitting “back” when it had finished. And the thing I was typically listening to was Naomi Yang’s bassline, which to me holds the lion’s share of the song’s feeling. Her bass playing in Galaxie 500 is so incredibly emotional to me, and it was never more so than here.

Pusha T: “Infrared” The one truly “new” song on here.” I didn’t have an advance of this record so I listened on Spotify when it came out and I loved it. And this song in particular seemed so perfect, the carefully constructed rap, executed as if it’s coming off the top of his head, the sample—I listened to this many times in a row on a few occasions, and it also sent me to revisit Clipse, which brought me a lot of joy.

Joni Mitchell: “Carey” Another song about freedom, but here it’s real. Blue is a perfect record but I probably revisit this one more than any other single song because I’m so in love with the production—that bass, that hand percussion...sonically, an album recorded almost 50 years ago simply cannot be improved upon. I remember hearing this one on AM radio when I was very young. It was a single, b/w “This Flight Tonight,” one hell of a 7-inch. I’ve always thought the picture it painted was so incredibly romantic—”Maybe I’ll go to Amsterdam, maybe I’ll go to Rome / And rent me a grand piano and put flowers 'round my room.” Hey, why not! And if Carey is indeed keeping her in this tourist town, we know it’s only for another hour, another day, another week, whenever she’s ready, she can’t be tied down. But then, that’s the future: this night, now, is a starry dome, and we’re alive, inside it.

Arthur Russell: “That’s Us/Wild Combination” Sometimes w/ my favorite Arthur Russell songs you can hear the strain as he creates a new genre trying to get a particular unnamable feeling across. But not this one. Sitting in a room with his friend Jennifer Warnes he made a song that feels as natural as a breath.

Carole King: “Pleasant Valley Sunday” I’m in awe of Carole King’s ability to write songs that sound perfect on the radio. Even if her prime hitmaking years only lasted a bit over a decade, the number of her songs with her name on them that left a huge mark on culture is staggering. Her demo for the Monkees hit “Pleasant Valley Sunday” shows how perfect everything was before the artist who would bring the song to the public got anywhere near it. I found this one on Youtube 8 or 9 years ago and it’s been in regular rotation since.

Hank Williams: “The Angel of Death” In February and March I was doing research my Pitchfork Sunday Review on Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska. It’s one of my favorite records, and I’ve wanted to write something long on it for years, so spending time w/ it as the winter wound down was an intense pleasure. It’s common knowledge that Springsteen was listening to a lot of Hank Williams when he was writing the album, and when I came across this song, I became obsessed with it. One, the melody sounds right off Nebraska, and “My Father’s House” (another song I listened to a lot this year) especially seems directly modeled on it. But this song has so much going for it on its own. It’s about death and the moment of judgement, but Hank’s melody and phrasing don’t sound frightened. It’s hopeful, a prayer instead of an admonishment.

Guided by Voices: “Motor Away” I’ve loved this song for years but I listened to it intently around the same time I was playing the Hank Williams, when I was thinking about leaving Pitchfork. I’ve never been a big fan of Robert Pollard’s lyrics (though I love many of his tunes), but he second line here is the one I couldn’t put out of my mind: “When you free yourself from the chance of a lifetime.” That’s where I felt I was. Editing this music magazine that I cared so much about was the culmination of a dream that took a long time, a ton of work, and a fair amount of luck to realize. When the chance of a lifetime comes along, you’re supposed to hold on to it as tightly as possible for as long as possible, until someone finally pries it away, which will happen eventually. I knew that. And yet, deep down, I knew that after 11 years, I wanted to try something else. Run away, motor away, drive away. Sometimes a song can give you the tiniest push.

#writing #myfather

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flannelplanet · 7 years ago

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Summary: Touch. It’s a fundamental human need. Bucky Barnes, however, was starved of it; never had a kind hand laid on him during his time with Hydra. His therapist had some work done by a very well-known tattoo artist in Brooklyn, and suggested that he try it out. That’s where you come in. You’re very well known for tattooing people with sensory problems. It’s your niche. You’re very understanding. You have quick reflexes and a soft touch. When Bucky walks through your office door, you just know you have to help him.

Warnings: Yo! Angst ahead! Also, happy Bucky, smitten Bucky, adorable Bucky. All the Bucky. The reader has a hard time keeping her shit together because BUCKY..

A/N: This definitely ends in a cliffhanger. No worries, the next chapter will be up soon! Feedback is appreciated. I hope you like it :)

taglist is open summer skin masterlist [X] previous chapter [X]

Summer Skin

Chapter 2: I CAN DO ANYTHING, ANYTHING, ANYTHING I WANT

The following session with Bucky’s therapist was short, sweet, and to the point. The doctor asked how the tattooing went, what feelings and memories the contact evoked as well as the machine, and what he thought of the entire process. He walked her through the time the two of you spent together and let her know that he would be going back, and that he was looking forward to it.

“Thank you,” he told her. “I didn’t think it would help as much as it has, and I’ve only gone once. This could really be something for me, Doc.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Sergeant, I’m glad. Just be careful and if you feel yourself slipping during a session with her, call it off and go back another day. One sitting won’t be a cure-all for you. It’s much the same as it is when you’re with me. Some days are great, some aren’t, and it’s up to you to be able to tell the difference.”

Bucky took the therapist’s words to heart, understanding the implication there. He might be reformed, but he was still frightening when his mind wasn’t right. He made a mental note to pay closer attention before leaving her office.

Clothes were everywhere. Tac pants and jeans were strewn along the floor, various tees and shirts were all across the bed. It was absolute chaos in Bucky’s room. For a skilled assassin, he sure did have a lot of clothing and he was really kicking himself for it now.

A knock sounded on his door and he sent a wordless prayer of thanks to whichever god was listening. He opened it, gesturing for Natasha to enter. “Gee Buck, what’s got your panties in a twist? Hot date tonight?”

He rolled his eyes impossibly hard. “No. Please don’t make this more awkward than it needs to be. I have my next tattoo sitting today and I can’t ask Steve what to wear because he’s being Steve about the whole situation.”

Natasha nodded. “So Steve wants to be the best man in your wedding, you mean?”

“YES.”

“He’s exhausting. Okay, so what are we working with then?” She strode her way over to the mess Bucky had created, looking at him and then turning to the options he had laid out. “Wear the grey vintage tee with the leather jacket. It will bring out your eyes. Go for the medium wash jeans, the tighter ones make your ass look amazing. Oh and wear your hair in a knot. Girls love that, especially on you, Barnes.” She paused once again, looking him over one last time. “You know what, shave your face too, but not all the way. Leave a little dusting of stubble.” And with that, she left him to it.

“No, Steve. You’re not coming this time. End. Of. Story.” As much as Bucky loved his best friend, he sure could be an exasperating son of a bitch.

“But Buck!” Steve whined.

“I said no.”

Bucky strode into The Skin Canvas with purpose. He was determined to have another successful session and if he were being honest with himself, he was excited to see you again. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something warm about you and a man who has spent so many years of his life literally frozen could really get used to the feeling.

As he approached the counter, Adam waved. “Hey Bucky! I’ll see if she’s ready for you.” The super soldier nodded, swaying on his feet as he awaited Adam’s return from the back.

Bucky took a moment to reassess the lobby of the tattoo shop. The walls were a welcoming shade of yellow but they weren’t overpowering. The accents were all black and there were splashes of color everywhere; blue and red and green and purple. The shop had a mellow vibe to it, laid back. Bucky decided he really, really liked it there.

Adam returned to his spot behind the counter and gestured to your office as he said, “You can head on back, man.” Bucky thanked him and did just that.

Thank god you weren’t mid-bite when Bucky entered your workspace because you would have choked on your chocolate. He looked different somehow, yet still the same. You had to be staring, you knew it, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Bucky noticed your eyes glued on him (how could he not), and he began looking himself over. “What, do I have food on my clothes or something?”

Busted! “Oh, no Sarge. Nothing like that. You look pretty incredible today is all,” you told him, figuring if you were busted anyway there was no use in lying about why.

Plus, the flush that covered his skin was worth the blunt honesty. “Really? I mean, thank you.” Then he smiled at you. Really smiled. And you had no idea how you were going to manage to get through the day because that smile—totally genuine and breathtaking—nearly brought you to your knees.

You shook yourself. This was not your typical behavior. Usually, you were professional and well mannered, and you were worried, especially with Bucky’s past, about coming off too flirty. You made a mental note to reign it in a little bit.

“So how does it feel right now?” You asked, intrigued to see how the serum helped the healing process.

“It actually feels great! I kept ointment on it and it was pretty much completely healed the day after our first session. I’m ready for a second round for sure,” he told you, lifting his shirt up at the hem and tugging it up over his head.

KEEP. YOUR. SHIT. TOGETHER. You let your eyes rake over his chiseled body on their way down to the tattoo and even though it was just line work, it already looked amazing. You were proud of your work so far and couldn’t wait to bring the rest of the tattoo to life.

“Looks great! When you’re ready, go ahead and get situated. I grabbed the pillows already,” you told him pointing to the corner of your little tattoo room.

He contemplated for a minute before shrugging and sitting down without them. “Eh, I'm feeling adventurous today. Let’s try without pillows and see how it goes.”

You watched as he took a seat on the leather bench then lowered himself down onto his back. Once you were relatively sure he was okay, you began pulling your colored inks out of their designated spots on the shelf and grabbed some cups. “Did you want the colors to match what Steve had on the drawing?” You asked. An idea was shaping in your mind, and it did not match the star-spangled monstrosity Steve had filling the design.

Bucky surprised you though, saying, “I’m not married to the idea. I’ve seen your work and I respect it. If you’re thinking something else, by all means help yourself, doll.”

Smiling, you turned away from him and began pulling ink tops off and filling cups with it. “You respect my work?”

Bucky felt himself flushing again, embarrassed by his forwardness. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Feeling the shift in his temperment, you turned back to him. “I heard stories, you know. The infamous James Buchanan Barnes, ladies’ man extraordinaire. How come you’re getting all bashful with me?”

Your bluntness startled a laugh from him, and goddammit you’d do anything to hear that low, throaty sound again. “Well, you know. Circumstances change. I see the value in a good woman more now than I ever did before. Makes me nervous that I’ll fuck it up and say something stupid.”

It’s your turn to laugh at that. “Bucky, people say stupid shit all the time. They still get laid.”

“Ha! I guess you’re right. Steve is my best friend! You’d think I would know that by now!” There it was again; that laugh.

“Well, how about we make a deal,” you began, turning to face him now that your equipment was set up and your gloves were on. “Why don’t we just forget about saying stupid shit and have ourselves some genuine conversation while we continue this masterpiece, huh?”

His eyes softened and his smile widened, the laughter had gone but the happiness still evident. “You got it, doll.”

“Excellent! Do you want to sanitize today or would you like me to try?” You were eager to see what the experience would be like for him today. He made amazing progress in just one sitting, but people tended to regress slightly before moving forward again.

You could see the struggle taking place in his mind as it was written all over his features. “Listen, you don’t have to push through everything today. You’ll be back in another couple days and we can try again th-” You stopped your own rant when you felt Bucky’s rough fingers gripping your own.

“Uh, Sarge? What are you doing?” You asked, not sure where he was going with his actions.

“Relax, doll. I’m trying something. Is this okay?” You nodded, urging him to continue. “I think, maybe, if I can hold on to your hands while you do it, at least until I get used to your hands on my skin again, it’ll be better.” That was actually a genius idea. You told him as much, too.

He let your hands go so that you could grab the sanitizer and a paper towel. After you poured a bit of the sanitizer on the towel, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his skin. An audible breath left his lungs. “You’re ok, Bucky. You are in control,” you said, making sure your voice was soft and steady.

He pulled your hand towards himself and winced slightly at the initial contact. He relaxed immediately, though, and looked up at you. His face was illuminated with pride and his smile made your heart flutter. “You’re doing great!”

“I’m gonna let go of your hands now. Can you, um, would you mind keeping them there? Just for a few more seconds?”

Bucky slowly let go of his grip on your hands and let his own fall to his sides, marveling at the way your hands moved gently over his skin. “This feels… different. Good.”

“Awesome, Sarge! The sanitizing is done so I’m going to remove my hands now, okay?” He nodded, watching as your gloved fingers pulled away from his abdomen. He found himself wishing that you didn’t have to pull away at all.

You had grabbed your tattoo machine and with it in hand turned back toward Bucky once more. “I’m going to use a little more contact during this session due to the colors and the amount of space needing filled. If you get cagey and need to stop me just say the word. I’ll stop the machine to check on you every once in a while, too.”

“You're very understanding,” he told you with a thoughtful smirk.

“It’s what I pride myself on,” you said with a wink. “I’m going to put my hand on your skin now, okay?”

Bucky nodded, bracing himself for the contact. When the needles touched his skin, he couldn’t help but jump. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Will I ever get used to that?”

You thought about it while you filled in a section, then as you paused to wipe the ink and blood away you shrugged. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone not have that reaction at first contact with the machine.”

Bucky nodded. He had begun to relax, sinking into the chair as you moved. Your hands hadn’t left his skin completely since the machine turned on and he was practically giddy with pride at how well he had been handling it. Actually, when he really focused on the area you were touching, he could admit that the feel of your hands on his skin felt kind of nice.

“You doin’ okay up there, Sarge?” You asked, feeling him slip into his own mind and pulling him back to the present.

“Yeah. Just reflecting, I guess. Having your hands on me is a good feeling. I’m starting to get used to it.”

“That’s amazing to hear! I still want you to tell me if you need a break though, okay?” He nodded, eyelids drifting closed as he sank into the rhythm of the tattoo machine and the sound of your voice. “Why don’t you tell me about Steve?” you asked, hoping for some conversation. It would be easier to see how his mental state was if he were talking.

“Where do you want me to start?” He asked. It seemed as though most of the world knew everything there was to know about their friendship. “Have you been to the Captain America exhibit?”

You laughed. “Of course I have. I know the basics, but I want you to tell me stories. Something no one else would know.”

Bucky smiled softly as he searched through cloudy memories of his best friend. “Well, when we were kids, I was always getting us into trouble. I mean, loads of trouble. This one time, we were out with these two girls and I remember sneaking up into my date’s room. Both girls went through the front door of her house, but Steve and me couldn’t very well walk in behind them. I started climbing the gutter on the side of her house and her dad must’ve heard because this scary looking giant of a man came storming out ready to murder me I swear.”

You began laughing, clearly picturing the story playing out in front of you. “Oh my god, really?” you asked as you wiped his skin. “Did he have a shotgun or something?”

A shit-eating grin practically split Bucky’s face in half. “No, no. He was just a huge wall of muscle. But Steve, he had no regard for self-preservation. And he was a nice guy. He actually went and chatted the guy up, telling him he was just making sure his daughter got home and up to her room alright before taking off, giving me the chance to climb all the way up without the guy even noticing!”

“You’re kidding, right?” You were totally invested in his words.

He shook his head and placed his metal hand over his heart. “It’s the god’s honest truth!”

“So, what happened after? Did Steve sneak up too?” A furiously red blush began spreading across Bucky’s face and neck, creeping down his torso. “You’re a sly little shit, Bucky Barnes. Tell me you did not.”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t, doll.” He was staring at you as he said the words with a smoldering look in his eyes and good lord if this was what a flirty Bucky was like you were in for it.

“Well I’ll be damned. You really are a ladies’ man.”

You heard a soft sigh spill out of Bucky’s mouth before he said, “Correction, I was a ladies’ man.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. “Are. Present tense. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Have you seen your face?” And with that the blush covering his skin was back with a vengeance.

The two of you continued through the session telling stories and laughing, while you periodically checked in with him. Things were going so well you didn’t even take breaks and before you knew it you were finished for the day. His skin was red and angry, but it was looking beautiful.

Bucky had been quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought you presumed. You finished wiping his skin, maintaining contact as much as possible. You were so proud of the progress he had made. “Alright, Sarge. You’re finished,” you told him, removing your hands from his warm skin.

It was then that you noticed it; the smallest of whimpers followed by a hoarsely whispered “no.”

Shit, shit, shit. He laid flat on his back, as tense as could be. His hands were formed into fists, clenched tightly at his sides and sweat covered him from head to toe. Once the situation registered in your mind, you moved as quickly as you could.

You tore the gloves from your hands and began speaking to him softly. “Bucky, it’s okay. You’re safe.” You moved closer to him and placed your hands on either side of his jaw, rubbing his scruffy cheeks. “Bucky,” you repeated, “it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re in the tattoo shop.”

Another strangled whimper left him and your heart began pounding into overdrive. “Bucky!” Your voice had gotten louder and you began carding your fingers through his hair as you spoke. “Bucky, you’re okay. You’re safe. Please. Open your eyes for me.”

You continued carding your fingers through his hair and talking to him, reassuring him, and finally after a few minutes he began to come out of it. His breathing slowed, the tension left his limbs, and his eyes opened to look at you. “Doll?”

“Bucky! Holy shit you’re back. Thank god.” Your hands were still in his hair and you made no effort to move. “What happened?”

“Can I… Uh… Can I grab some water?” He asked, ignoring your question.

You looked at him carefully before saying, “Yes, I’ll get it for you. I’m going to move my hands away from you now but I’ll be right back, okay?” He nodded and you walked out of the little room, giving him space to process what the fuck just happened.

He had been joking and laughing and telling stories, and before he knew it he was remembering bits of his time as The Soldier. Missions. Being treated like an object. Hydra. It was horrible. Blood was everywhere. It was so cold, always so fucking cold. The only thing keeping him grounded was your hands on him, ironically enough. Until they weren’t on him anymore.

He could hear you talking to him. He heard his name, he felt your touch, but he couldn’t move. For a fleeting moment he even feared it was Hydra coming for him. He knew better, though.

After a few moments, he fought his way out of the memories. He was okay, he was safe. He was with you.

After getting him a small glass of water, you instructed him to get off the bench and check out the work you had done on his tattoo during that session. He was a little shaky still, but after giving his approval he let you bandage him up.

“Listen, Sarge. I noticed how you conveniently dodged my question about what happened, but we need to talk about that. We need an open line of communication and trust between us, okay? I’m going to take you out for some coffee and make sure you get back to the tower safely.”

He didn’t even have the energy to fight you on it.

The two of you approached and entered your favorite place to eat in all of Brooklyn: Frankie’s Donuts. It was an absolute dive, but you hadn’t found better coffee anywhere ever in your entire life and their food was amazing, too. You found a small booth in the back of the restaurant away from prying eyes and ears. After placing your coffee orders, you turned to face him.

“Now that we’re here… Wanna tell me what happened back there?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Do I have to?” The look on your face told him your answer. “Alright. I guess with all the storytelling I just started kind of falling into old memories. Hydra memories. I was okay though, I think your hands on me kept me grounded. When you pulled away I guess I just… Panicked.”

“Is there something I could have done to prevent that from happening?” You wondered if you should have stopped to check on him more when things got quiet. Maybe you should have stopped for a break even if he hadn’t asked for one.

“No, doll. This was all on me. I should have spoken up.”

He moved so that his forearms rested on the tabletop and his hands were clenched in front of him. You covered his hands with your own as you spoke. “Bucky, I know those memories must not have been nice ones. Do you want to talk about them?”

“I… uh… I don’t remember everything. I just get snippets of memories every so often, so there’s not much to talk about. But a lot of it is just the same thing over and over again, just different scenarios.”

You thanked the waitress, who had stopped to drop off your coffees, before looking to Bucky. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. You don’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He’s heard those same words from just about everyone he’s encountered in the time he’s been back yet none of them meant anything compared to yours.

The mood subtly shifted as the two of you sipped your coffees and made small conversation. He asked questions about you, where you grew up, your favorite color, your family, your friends, and he even stuttered through asking if you were single. You told him how you began painting, what drew you to tattooing, and why you find it so enjoyable.

Conversation between the two of you came easy, and before either of you realized, hours had passed. “Hey, we’re closing,” the waitress said as she brought you the bill. “I hope your date was lovely,” she added thoughtfully.

Bucky turned the darkest shade of red and you snorted a small laugh out. “Thanks, Marge. You’re sweet!”

“Why didn’t you tell her we weren’t on a date?” Bucky asked when his wits returned.

“Because she’s a sweet old lady. And besides, I wouldn’t hate it if this were a date, you know,” you told him with a wink.

His answering smirk sent the butterflies in your stomach into a tizzy. “In that case, doll, I do believe I’ll be paying,” he said, snatching the bill from your hands. You stood there with your jaw hanging open as he paid. “C’mon, doll. Steve will start to worry if I don’t get back soon.”

You snapped your jaw shut and followed after him as he walked out of the diner and onto the streets of Brooklyn. Instead of letting you walk him to the tower, he walked you back to the shop where your car waited.

“Thanks for the coffee, Sarge,” you told him as you walked toward the shop. “I can’t remember the last time something like that happened.”

The two of you approached your car and he lightly grasped your arm. “No, doll. Thank you. For everything you did today.” He pulled you in towards him allowing you to wrap your arms around his waist. He hugged you back and as he pulled away, placed the smallest kiss on your cheek.

It was on that journey from Brooklyn to Manhattan that Bucky realized he had gone on a date for the first time in over 70 years. With you. Fuck him if the thought of seeing you again didn’t feel like the most amazing thing.

“Stark?” Bucky yelled as he walked into his lab. “You in here?”

“Over here,” Tony called from behind a table looking at the mechanism of something Bucky couldn’t even begin to even want to comprehend.

“I have an idea. Oh and a favor to ask of you…”

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel #bucky imagine #mine*fics #fic: summer skin

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