#remember a while ago i said i collabed with my friend... yeah... this drawing was actually done last week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadowdianne · 3 years

Text

Fic writer review [Or a fic writer tag game if you prefer]

I was tagged by @naralanis and I can already see her grin all the way from where I am xd Thank you, dear, for the tag, let’s see what are my answers, shall we.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

*bursts out laughing* Adding both pseuds I have… 535 according to the account info but by counting them all I’m reaching 541 so I’m guessing it’s counting some drafts I need to re-find.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

I seriously hated you for this one xd I was going to do it by hand by I decided one-third there that I value my mental stability a little bit more xd according to the stats page back at a03 that number would be 1257884. It may be wrong. I think there should be a few more numbers up there but the majority of my works are one-shots so *shrugs* There’s also the fact that counting my ao3 things only is shaving off like half of it Xd Anyway, can we laugh at the fact that I’m a pain in the ass and that I’ve written a lot? More than I should have, that’s for sure

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Trick question because I haven’t crossposted everything I wrote back in ffnet and I actually erased some fics from my account back there so the numbers are a little blurry there.

When I had the entirety of my work posted both in ffnet and a03 I had written for: Twilight (Bella/Alice) Glee (Faberry and there were a couple Pezberry and I don’t fucking remember the pairing name for Santana and Quinn), Harry Potter (Hermione/Ginny, Hermione/Narcissa, Hermione/Bellatrix) OUAT (SwanQueen and several oneshots focusing on the mad hatter and the blue fairy solely back at ffnet that were written in Spanish and never translated), I actually had a veeeery old au prompt of Frozen (Elsanna in where I wrote them as non sibilings), Rizzoli and Isles (Rizzles), Dishonored 2 (Emily Kaldwin/Alexi Mayhew), Lara Croft and Wonder Woman, Supergirl (SuperCorp/Supercat) I had a 100 one -or maybe two??- (Clexa), The Shannara Chronicles (Amberle/Eretreia [Or Princess Rover], Rwby [Blake Belladona/Yang], The Worst Witch (Hecate Hardbroom and Pippa Pentangle), The Half of it, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (Madam Satan/Zelda Spellman) and… I think that’s it(?) I may be forgetting some but probably nothing important if I’m not remembering it lol.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Ah, we are going to go there, uh? Xd My works are not the kudos and comment getting type Xd So I was quite surprised when I went to check this.

1: Cracked it I wrote this one back in 2017, it was a prompt done by an anon: Lena is nerding with one of her projects at home, mumbling mostly to herself because she’s stuck and Kara casually mentions how to solve the problem like it’s nothing. I really had some fun with this. It was back when some us, SQeeners were fully doing the jump between OUAT and SuperGirl (I mean, there had already been some crossover as for fandom is related but this when the girls were actually getting their conjoined voice within the fandom)

2: Dateless I honestly needed to check what this one was about but I think I can see why this one shot has the amount of kudos it has. It’s a short and sweet idea and responds to the Teachers Au that went SO well with SQ. Everyone thinks they hate each other and try to set them up with other people whilst they, in truth, are dating. I don’t remember if I wrote them as married rather than dating but despite being from 2017 as well is one cheeky enough to be cool Xd I probably would edit some lines now *shudders*

3: After you I truly didn’t expect this one to be top 3. Makes me think of a lot of things, if I’m being honest Xd. After you was a one shot written almost feverishly as an answer to the fabulous drawings that Sejic did of both Lara Croft and Wonder Woman back at 2018 or something. It’s just Lara and Diana being himbos but not at all with each other.

4: How about… How about is one I remember perfectly, it was my answer to the ending of the Half of it film. I had SOME thoughts about it, let’s just stop there Xd I really liked the film itself but I think and I thought at the time that my response to wishing for a final scene at the very end of the credits responds to me being in a different personal moment than the characters. I really wanted to explore my feelings about it and so I wrote about them finding each other again after some time passes. It was also something I wrote after quite the hiatus so I took it as something I could write about without focusing too much on the why.

5: Come to me

Ahh, SuperCorp Xd I remember this one actually. A friend of mine and I were talking about descriptions, and she mentioned quite off-handedly how she wanted a fic in where Kara’s back was described. I complied… more or less.

Fun tidbit, despite the big volume of my work is obviously set in ouat there’s only 1 SQ fic there as you can see, the others are either SuperCorp or the random one shots I created for Wonderwoman/Lara Croft and The half of it. *sighs in deep thought* I’m also not going to look too much into how almost all of the fics were posted and written back in 2017. Nope, not at all.

*Small voice screaming you peaked in 2017 and everything else is garbage jumps back and forth*

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I tend to always respond, yup. I truly value comments. I might have gone for spells of time in where I didn’t have the mental capacity to check in old fics because I truly didn’t know what to answer but I treasure every single comment and you all who comment know that I can start to ramble in the answers xd -sorry about that- I really really REALLY love interaction.

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending:

Ok, Nara, come on, this one is a catch for me. I’ve written angst in far too many fics to remember the angstiest one :P I have the most recent one, though, that is the easy one to think about: Goodbye.Written for @delirious-comfort. I’m just going to say “Kisses with their last dying breath” as an idea of what awaits inside but I’ve written about death and loss and angst quite a lot. There were some I wrote back to SQ with Regina needing to kill Emma during the Dark Swan arc that, to this day, I still love and some others in where Regina is the one that dies, again and again, trapped by magic while Emma watches. I have the loss in mental destruction form and… I REALLY like my angst y’know xd

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not counting Lara and Wonder Woman not really! I think it comes from the fact that I loooove worldbuilding as a whole and some pairings would require all my focus into making the world perfect which in turn would make me self conscious on the OOCness of it all.

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

*snorts* I’ve received hate due to the pairing I’ve written about, how I’ve written about it, the amount I’ve written, how slow or quick I can be, the usage of some tropes, the lack of usage of those same tropes… Let’s just go with: yuuuup.

9. Do you write smut?

I’ve written smut, yeah! But I can already see the pointed looks of some so let’s elaborate Xd I write smut when asked and sometimes when not asked but there’s a part of me I like to call a terrible tease that prefers writing the beginning of a scene, taunt it, focus on what happens before the sex scene per se as I find it more enjoyable to write. The process of escalation is always the best for me to see what can I do it by using both dialogue and descriptors tbh, so I tend to tease more than show.

9. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

A few weeks ago I’d have said: Maybe(?) But trying to follow the trail of some other fics that had been stolen from some friends -I think it was me trying to find more about the page that stole something from your Nara!- I found some pages in where my fics had been reposted. In some it was stated that the person posting the fic wasn’t the author but I had never been contacted in order to see if I’d say yes to such a thing and in some others the page was locked up but I could still see someone was pretending to be the author. I did the thing and got some of those down.

Pointed note: Ask me if you want to post or translate or anything. I will look into you and answer you if you seem honest about the thing. But despite every joke and self-deprecating comment those 500 and then some fics represent MY time so very kindly I say fuck off to those who wish to steal from me and if I catch you… you don’t really want to see me angry, trust me.

10. Ever had a fic translated?

I’ve given permission to some, yeah, but never heard it back from them so I’m guessing it didn’t stick.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I’ve written series alongside other authors as @stregaomega for example. And some others that are unpublished -looking at you @carsonnieve - I’ve also done collabs… but fics co-written in the sense of two authors same chapters I don’t have anything posted I’m afraid :P

13. All-time favourite ship?

*snorts*, I guess the obvious answer is SQ uh? And I do think they were the ones that allowed me to read and write SO much. The one I feel more strongly about, however, is Bering and Wells from Warehouse 13.

14. WIP you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

All of them counts as a valid answer? But if I only could finish one that would be Arcadia. With A forgotten Promise second and the one I did as an Assassins Creed AU third. (I don’t remember the name so there’s no link, sorry xd)

15. Writing strengths?

Uhhhh, you REALLY want me to say that? I don’t fucking know!! To me everything I write is garbage. I always try to go for the feelings so I guess. Dunno xd I’ve been told I’m good at worldbuilding and to be honest is what I enjoy the most.

16. Writing weaknesses?

Everything Xd Pacing? What I hate the most sometimes is dialogue, I would count it as a weakness but I’m always far too focused on description rather than dialogue. I don’t think it’s a bad thing per se but it’s something that I don’t do as much.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I’m conflicted. Always. Majorly because I think that having bilingual characters in fanfiction is portrayed and expected in a way that I don’t feel it’s honest with how bilingual people -us- talk. So if I go by what I know I do I think it’s not what readers hope to see when it comes to that and if I go for how canonically is hoped to be found I don’t think it’s logical. But that’s me and my overthinking Xd If I have the option I like to do it.

18. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Belice! Or Bella/Alice. Worst first fic ever but oh, well, I’m always saying that :P

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far?

Uhh… Don’t make me do this XD Agh, I don’t know. I’ve always been very vocal about Metallic Ink because I let myself enjoy the process of creating a magic system almost out of zero and that was fun. Despite hating some of the writing process and that I’d do it differently now I think I’m going to stick with that answer. Or anything that had any steampunk-based undertone. To be honest I like more thinking of concepts, I had one in where Emma was a thief and it involved the robbery of a ring that was Regina’s one way ticket to freedom I then later repurposed that I adored thinking about so let’s go with…. Yeah, I love having the option of changing things up a little and focus on how characters would fit in different aesthetics for this one Xd

Annnd… these are four pages, gods. I’m just going to tag @waknatious @carsonnieve @stregaomega here and see what they do- Enjoy the questionnaire ladies :P

#taggie thingie #this was a monster

20 notes · View notes

snelbz · 4 years

Text

What Happens In Vegas... {5}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

I gave Rhys a while to cool off, then followed him out onto the beach. The morning light was blinding, clear blue skies all the way, as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful. Salty sea air cleared my head a little. Rhysand’s words raised more questions than they answered. Puzzling that night out consumed my thoughts. I’d reached two conclusions. Both worried me.

The first was that the night in Vegas was special to him. My prying or trivializing the experience upset him. The second was, I suspected, he hadn’t been all that drunk. It sounded like he knew exactly what he was doing. In which case, how the hell must he have felt the next morning? I’d rejected him, and by extension, our marriage, out of hand. He must have been hurt, embarrassed, humiliated.

There’d been good reasons for my behavior. I’d still, however, been incredibly thoughtless. I didn’t know Rhys then. But I was beginning to now. And the more we talked, the more I liked him.

Rhys sat on the rocks with a beer in hand, staring out to sea. A cool ocean wind tossed his hair about. The fabric of his black T-shirt was drawn tight across his broad back. He had his knees drawn up with an arm wrapped around them. It made him seem younger than he was, more vulnerable.

“Hi,” I said, squatting beside him.

“Hey.” Eyes squinted against the sun, he looked up at me, face guarded.

“I’m sorry for pushing.”

He nodded, stared back out at the water. “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I breathed.

His answer was short. “Don’t worry about it.”

I hesitated. “Are we still friends?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Sure.”

I sat down next to him, trying to figure out what to say next, what would set things right between us. Nothing I could think of saying was going to make up for Vegas. I needed more time with him. The ticking clock of the annulment papers grew louder by the minute. It unnerved me, thinking our time would be cut short. That it would soon all be over and I wouldn’t see or talk to him again. That I wouldn’t get to figure out the puzzle that was us. My skin grew goose pimples from more than the wind.

“Shit, you’re cold,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in closer against him.

And I got closer, happily. “Thanks.”

He put down the beer bottle, wrapping both arms around me. “Should probably get you inside.”

“In a bit.” My thumbs rubbed over my fingers, fidgeting. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s a lovely place.”

He hummed, contentedly.

I sighed again. “Rhys, really, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.” He put a finger beneath my chin, raising it. The anger and hurt were gone, replaced by kindness. He gave me one of his little shrugs. “Let’s just let it go.”

The idea actually sent me into a panic. I didn’t want to let go of him. The knowledge was startling. I stared up at him, letting it sink in. “I don’t want to.”

He blinked. “All right. You want to make it up to me?”

I doubted we were talking about the same thing, but I nodded anyway.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said.

I nodded, “Shoot.”

His arms tightened around me, slightly. “Different things can jog your memory, right?”

“I guess so,” I said.

“So if I kiss you, you might remember what we were like together.”

I stopped breathing. The words were stilted when I finally remembered how to speak. “You...want to kiss me?”

A dark eyebrow rose. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m okay with you kissing me.”

He bit back a smile. “That’s very kind of you.”

Clearing my throat, I asked, “And this kiss is for the purposes of scientific research?”

He was smirking now. “Yep. You want to know what happened that night and I don’t really want to talk about it. So, I figure, easier all around if you can maybe remember some of it yourself.”

I nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Excellent.”

I cleared my throat again. “How far did we go that night?”

His gaze dropped to the neck of my tank top and the curves of my breasts just barely visible. “Second base.”

“Shirt on?” I asked.

“Off. We were both topless. Topless cuddles are best.” He watched as I absorbed the information, his face close to mine.

I blinked. “Bra?”

He chuckled again. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh.” I licked my lips, breathing hard. “So, you really think we should do this?”

He said, “You’re overthinking it.”

Nodding, I said, “Sorry.”

“And stop apologizing.” My mouth opened to repeat the sentiment but I snapped it shut. He chuckled, knowing what I was about to say. Instead, he said, “It’s okay.”

My brain stuttered and I stared at his mouth. He had the most beautiful mouth, with full lips that pulled up slightly at the edges. He was stunning.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

I shook my head. “You said not to think. And honestly, I’m not.”

“Good,” he said, leaning even closer. “That’s good.”

His lips brushed against mine, easing me into it. Soft but firm, with no hesitation. His teeth toyed with my bottom lip. Then he sucked on it. He didn’t kiss like the boys I knew, though I couldn’t exactly define the difference. It was just better and… More. Infinitely more. His mouth pressed against mine and his tongue slipped into my mouth, rubbing against mine. God, he tasted good. My fingers slid into his hair, the strands like silk. He kissed me until I couldn’t remember anything that had come before. None of it mattered.

His hand slid around the nape of my neck, holding me in place. The kiss went on and on. He lit me up from top to toe. I never wanted it to end.

He kissed me till my head spun, and I hung on for dear life. Then he pulled back, panting, and set his forehead against mine once again.

“Why did you stop?” I asked when I could form a coherent sentence. My hands pulled at him, trying to bring him back to my mouth.

“Shh, relax.” He took a deep breath. “Did you remember something? Anything about that familiar to you?”

My kiss-addled mind came up blank. Damn it. I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so.”

“That’s a pity.” A ridge appeared between his brows. The dark smudges beneath his beautiful blue eyes seemed to have darkened. I’d disappointed him again. My heart sank.

“You look tired,” I said.

“Yeah. Might be time to get some sleep.” He planted a quick kiss on my forehead. Was it a friend’s kiss, or more? I couldn’t tell. Maybe it too was just for scientific purposes.

“We tried, huh?” he said.

I shrugged. “Yeah. We did.”

He rose to his feet, collecting his beer bottle. Without him to warm me, the breeze blew straight through me, shaking my bones. It was the kiss, though, that had really shaken me. It had completely blown my mind. To think I’d had a night of kisses like that and forgotten it. What was wrong with me?

“Do you mind if I come with you?” I asked.

“Not at all.” He held out a hand to help me to my feet.

Together, we wandered back up to the house, up the stairs into the master bedroom. I tugged off my shoes as Rhys dealt with his own footwear. We lay down on the mattress, not touching. Both of us staring at the ceiling like there might be answers there.

I kept quiet. For all of about a minute. My mind was wide awake and babbling at me. “I think I understand a little better now how we ended up married.”

“Do you?” He turned his head to face me.

“Yes.” I’d never been kissed like that before. “I do.”

“Come here.” A strong arm encircled my waist, dragging me into the center of the bed.

I reached for him with a nervous smile. More than ready for more kisses. More of him.

“Lie on your side,” he said, his hands maneuvering me until he lay behind me. One arm slipped beneath my neck and the other was slung over my waist, pulling me in closer against him. His hips fit against my butt perfectly.

“What are we doing?” I asked, bewildered.

“Spooning. We did it that night for a while. Until you felt sick.”

“We spooned?”

“Yep,” he said. “Stage two in the memory rehab process, spooning. Now go to sleep.”

I laughed quietly. “I only woke up an hour ago.”

He pressed his face into my hair and even threw a leg over mine for good measure, pinning me down. “Sucks for you. I’m tired and I wanna cuddle. With you. And the way I figure it, you owe me. So we’re spooning.”

I chuckled. “Got it.”

His breath warmed the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

“Relax. You’re all tense.” His arms tightened around me.

After a moment, I picked up his left hand, running the pads of my fingers over his calluses. Using him for my fidget toy. The tips of his fingers were hard. There was also a ridge down his thumb and another slight one along the bottom of his fingers where they joined the palm of his hand. He obviously spent a lot of time holding guitars. The whorls and swirls of black ink that I’d seen on his chest in the bathroom in Vegas continued down both his arms and hands. It was such a stark contrast to his tan skin. I traced one of the long lines with my free hand.

“Tell me about your major,” he said. “You’re studying architecture, right?”

“Yes,” I said, a little surprised he knew. I’d obviously told him in Vegas. “My dad’s one.”

He intertwined his fingers with mine, effectively shutting down my fidgeting.

“Did you always want to play guitar?” I asked, trying not to get too distracted by the way he was wrapped around me.

“Yeah. Music’s the only thing that ever really made sense to me. Can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“Huh.” It must be nice, having something to be so passionate about and have the freedom to pursue it. I liked the idea of being an architect. Many of my childhood games had involved building blocks or drawing. But I didn’t feel driven to do it, exactly. Painting… That’s where my true love lied. Music though, definitely not. “I’m pretty much tone deaf.”

“That explains a lot,” he chuckled.

“Be nice. I was never particularly good at sports either. I like drawing and reading and watching movies. Painting has always been my favorite, but I don’t have much time for it. And I like to travel, not that I’ve done much of it.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He shifted behind me, getting comfortable. “When I travel, it’s always about the shows. Doesn’t leave much time for looking around.”

“That’s a pity.”

He nodded and went on. “And being recognized can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Now and then, it gets ugly. There’s a fair bit of pressure on us, and I can’t always do what I want. Truth is, I’m kind of ready to slow things down, hang out at home more.”

I said nothing, turning his words over inside my head.

He barely seemed to notice my quiet, as if the words he were admitting had been trying to get out for a while. He said, “The parties get old after a while. Having people around all the damn time.”

“I bet.” And yet, back in LA he’d still had a groupie hanging off him, cooing at his every word. Obviously parts of the lifestyle still appealed. Parts that I wasn’t certain I could compete with even if I wanted to. “Won’t you miss some of it?”

He got quiet for a few minutes. “Honestly, it’s all I’ve done for so long, I don’t know.”

Whoa. The mood got real heavy real quick. I tried to make a joke to lighten the mood. “Well, you have a gorgeous home to hang out in.”

“Hmm.” He was quiet for a moment. “Feyre?”

“Yeah?”

“Was being an architect your idea or your dad’s?”

“I don’t remember,” I admitted. “We’ve always talked about it. I don’t know what else I’d do, I’ve been planning to be an architect since I was in high school.”

“You said you had a tough time at high school, yeah?.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” I wriggled around, turned over so I could see his face. “I don’t usually talk about that with other people.”

“We talked about it. You said that there was a group of girls that hounded you like wolves. I figured that’s what set you off with my friends. The fact that they were bullying that girl like a pack of fucking schoolkids.”

“I guess that would do it.” The teasing wasn’t a subject I liked to raise. Too easily, it brought back all of the crappy feelings associated with it. Rhysand’s arms didn’t allow for any of that to slip through, however.

The room grew quiet again. He said, “You didn’t really answer my question. Do you want to be an architect?”

“Well, it’s what I’ve always planned to do,” I stammered out. “And I, ah, I like the idea of designing someone’s home. I don’t know that being an architect is my divine calling, like music is for you, but I think I could be good at it.”

“I’m not doubting that, baby,” he said, his voice soft but definite.

I tried not to let the endearment reduce me to a soggy mess on the mattress. Subtlety was the key. I’d hurt him in Vegas. If I was serious about this, about wanting him to give us another go, I needed to be careful. Give him good memories to replace the bad. Memories we could both share this time.

Then he asked the question no one had ever asked me. “Feyre, is it what you want to do with your life?”

I stopped. Having already trotted out the standard responses, extra thought was required. The plan had been around for so long I didn’t tend to question it. There was safety and comfort to be had there. But Rhysand wanted more and I wanted to give it to him. Maybe this was why I’d spilled my secrets to him in Vegas. Something about this man drew me in, and I didn’t want to fight it. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay, you know.” His gaze never shifted from mine. “You’re only twenty-one.”

“But I’m supposed to be an adult now, taking responsibility for myself. I’m supposed to know these things.”

“You’ve been living with your friend for a few years, yeah? Paying your own bills and doing your classes and all that?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Then how are you not taking responsibility for yourself?” He tucked his loose, dark hair behind an ear, getting it out of his face. “So you start out in architecture and see how you go.”

Chuckling, I said, “You make it sound so simple.”

His arms tightened around me minisculely. “It is. You either stick with that or try something else, see how it works for you. It’s your life. Your call.”

“Do you only play guitar?” I asked, wanting to know more about him. Wanting the topic of conversation to be off me. The knot of tension building inside me was not pleasant.

“No.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—he knew exactly what I was about. “Bass and drums, too. Of course.”

“Of course?” I asked.

“Anyone passable at guitar can play bass if they put their mind to it. And anyone who can pick up two sticks at the same time can play drums.” He smirked. “Be sure to tell Cass I said that next time you see him, yeah? He’ll get a kick out of that.”

I couldn’t help the smile on my face. “You got it.”

“And I sing.”

“You do?” I asked, getting excited. “Will you sing something for me? Please?”

He made a noncommittal noise.

I paused. “Did you sing to me that night?”

He gave me a small pained smile. “Yeah, I did.”

I cleared my throat. “So it might bring back a memory.”

He rolled his eyes, but I saw the smile in the gesture. “You’re going to use that now, aren’t you? Anytime you want something you’re going to throw it at me.”

Scoffing, I said, “Hey, you started it. You wanted to kiss me for scientific purposes.”

“It was for scientific purposes.” He shrugged, “A kiss between friends for reasons of pure logic.”

“It was a very friendly kiss, Rhys.”

A lazy smile lit his face. “Yes, it was.”

I hesitated, but asked, “Please sing me something?”

“Okay,” he huffed. “Turn back around, then. We were spooning for this.”

I snuggled back down against him and he shuffled closer. Being Rhysand’s cuddle toy was a wonderful thing. I couldn’t imagine anything better. Pity he was sticking with the scientific rationale. Not that I could blame him. If I were him, I’d be wary of me too.

His voice washed over me, deep, rough in the best way possible as he sang the ballad.

He began A Drop in the Ocean by Ron Pope, his voice beautiful, low, haunting, but in the best of ways.

When he finished I was quiet. He gave me a squeeze, probably checking I was still alive. I squeezed his arms right back, not turning over so he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. The combination of his voice and the moody ballad had undone me. I was always making a mess of myself around him, crying or puking. Why he wanted anything to do with me, I had no idea.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Anytime.” I lay there, trying to decipher the lyrics. What it might mean that he’d chosen that song to sing to me. “Shit, I made you sad. I’m sorry.”

“No. It was beautiful. Your voice is amazing.” He frowned but lay back down, pressed his chest against my spine. “I’ll sing you something happy next time.”

“If you like.” I pressed my lips to the back of his hand, to the veins tracing across, and the dusting of dark hair. “Rhys?”

“Hmm?”

I asked, “Why don’t you sing in the band? You have such a great voice.”

“I do backup. Tam loves the limelight. It was always more his thing.” His fingers twined with mine. “He wasn’t always the asshole he is now. I’m sorry he hassled you in LA. I could have killed him for saying that shit.”

I shrugged it off. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. He was off his face. He didn’t have a fucking clue what he was talking about.” His thumb moved restlessly over my hand. “You’re gorgeous. You don’t need to change a thing.”

I didn’t know what to say at first. Tamlin had said some horrible things and it had stayed with me. Funny how the bad stuff always did.

“I’ve both puked and cried on you. Are you entirely sure about that?” I joked, finally.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I like you the way you are, blurting out whatever shit crosses your mind. Not trying to play me, or use me. You’re just…being with me. I like you.”

I lay there speechless for a moment, taken aback. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Anytime, Feyre. Anytime at all.”

After a minute, I admitted, “I like you too.”

His lips brushed against the back of my neck. Shivers raced across my skin. “Do you?”

My voice was too high, breathy, when I spoke. “Yes. Very much.”

“Thanks, baby.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

It took a long time for his breathing to even out. His limbs got heavier and he stilled, asleep against my back. My foot went fuzzy with pins and needles, but never mind. I hadn’t slept with anyone before, apart from the occasional platonic bed-sharing episode with Joey. Apparently, sleeping was all I’d be doing today.

In all honesty, it felt good, lying next to him.

It felt right.

#what happens in vegas #snelbz whiv #feysand #vegas au #snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

281 notes · View notes

painandpleasure86 · 4 years

Text

I can’t live with you (but I can’t live without you) - JohnicaWeek 2020

Author’s note: This idea born in my mind since Rachel announced this special week. My real life inspo were my own parents, married since 1991 (I born in 1992). Here I portray this couple as I imagine, based in real life experience having a 67 yrs old dad and in things that I read about this couple. This will be the most realistic posible representation of them that I could write. Don’t hate me if isn’t all cuteness here, life it’s good but also bad things :/ Also sorry if it’s too cheesy! I don’t like make suffer to my characters a lot lol.

Art by @imflashqueen (instagram). She drew the second piece inspired in my story! She was my beta indeed :3 Thank you for give me some feedback! Ah, and the first one was an old collab that we did in last November!

Plus, i’m doing this just for mere entertainment ;) I just love participate in this kind of events to meet new people, practicing my skills and have fun!

Summary: The anniversary date it’s here! How will they react about this?

Pairing: Current John and Ronnie :)

Warnings: Angst, some humor, some swearing, some fluff too. Mention of death.

Word count: 2139 words, perhaps my longest fic. If not, the second one.

Prompt used: Anniversary Day

First part

January 11th. Just like another weekend, another morning. He left very early his bed, trying to not wake up her. He wants some quientness to drink his tea. He wants to forget for a moment everything. Ever that next Saturday will be 18th. Just like in 1975. A cold Saturday in that catholic church, where Freddie made a particular entrance. Remembering that made him smile, but then was so upset, because Fred were ruining the strict ceremony.

“I’ll always love you bud. Cheers for you” he said rising his almost empty cup of tea watching the sky through the windom and finishing his tea.

His eyes were shining. His smile, wide. Until…

“Morning, no?” she said near to him.

He jumpscared a bit.

“God Ron! You know that I have heart problems…” he exaggerated putting his left hand in his chest.

She laughed.

“Exaggerated as always…” she added.

“Morning, yeah!?” he said finally, letting the empty cup of tea in the nearest table.

She started to prepare her breakfast.

“Who you were talking?”

Lighting a cigarette, he said “I… just remembered something Ron.” He aspired the smoke deeply. Now the cigarette are between his index and his middle finger of his right hand.

“Something happy”. Let go to the smoke through his nose.

Her eyes focused in him and smiling widely.

“I just remembered when Freddie entered to the church with that two girls in our wedding.” He aspired the smoke again. “Hahahaha… he couldn’t did it in another way!”

Her face turned so quickly in an deceptioned expression.

“oh… that, haha.” she said meanwhile she was preparing her tea.

Letting go the smoke but now from his mouth, he smiled mischievously. He did it again.

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

In the afternoon of that Saturday, the couple received a video call of their youngest offspring.

“Hiiiiii dad!! Hiiii mom!!!” he said with his habitual happiness, smiling widely.

Both parents greeted to their son.

The young continued talking.

“How you feel knowing that next Sat will be your anniversary?”

Ronnie smiled widely. “FINE!!”

But he stared at the camera and rolled his eyes, sighing. “Another year” he said kinda melancholic.

His son and his wife watched at him.

“Huh? I was honest.” But really he wasn’t real honest…

Trying to change the mood, Cameron added with a smile “Well, the fans are more excited for that than you, and you’re the one that’s married with that lady” winking an eye to his mom.

Being visible upset, the old man said: “That fans, ha! Try to be married at least 5 years and have 3 children in the meantime and after they can say if they’re happy with that life! I have enough of that fans speaking about me like the cute one, the good dad! I wasn’t one all the time for fucking god's sake!”. He raised of his chair and slammed the door of the room.

“Another time with that rant about the fans…” she said sighing and watching at her child.

“Well, let’s speak about you then mom. You have plans to the anniversary?” he said trying to make smile to the 69 years old woman.

She said “yeah. I reserved a table in Nobu for that day” and smiled shyly.

“MOOOOOOM, that restaurant it’s so famous. Every famous people will can see you with Dad there” almost shout the young man.

“It’s my intention, son.” and she smiled kinda mischievously.

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

Second part

Another 18th came finally. Another year. Another cold winter day. Another time where he remembered why he did that.

He opened his eyes that morning earlier than usual. He watched at his side. She was snoring softly.

Finally he decided take his morning tea. Putting his robe and his winter flip-flops, go to the kitchen. He’s trying to not make any noise. More than ever, this morning needs that Ronnie don’t wake up at the same time than him. More than ever wants some silence and time with himself.

In the kitchen, he puts to boil some water to his tea. Meanwhile, he smokes a cigarette watching at outside through the window, still dark.

“45 damn years today. For good or bad... “ he sigh deeply meanwhile he was thinking. “Sometimes I ask myself why I did that. Sometimes I wanted to get away from this life, but for some reason i’m still here. Perhaps i’m tired of trying? I don’t know.” He aspired the smoke and let it go in a deep exhalation. “The only certainty it’s that I decided 45 years ago that beautiful slim prego lady, now an old woman, be my wife. Her…” and his thoughts were interrupted for the sound of the boiling water. “For fucking god’s sake…” he mumbled, while he turned off the fire. He prepared the tea and go to his “office” to check the internet. “Let’s see what the people say about me today… Wait. It’s early… Don’t care. I’ll be with this all day long if it’s necessary. This will be more fun than always.”

He sat at his desk with his computer, with his tea in one side. Meanwhile the PC was initializing, he was with a lot of expectative.

He sips his tea and opened the navigator. Typed the right search in the search bar. “Gosh, a lot of thing already. That people really loves me being with her”, he whispered. Clicks in the first result. And he started to laugh. “Happy 45th anniversary blahblahblah, his marriage its the proof that the love always wins” he said reading the text on that post in a social network. “Little person, it’s just the proof that I prefer be with her for a reason. Well... Six reasons. Hahahaha” he “responded”.

Another post. That one, a drawing. “Oh okay, I look cute with her, goooootcha” he said with a pinch of sarcasm.

A fic. In this he stopped to read it entirely. He almost ended his tea meanwhile. And his laugh was harder. “These little girls haves a lot of imagination. Gosh, why I’m almost always the good boy in this things? Hahahahaha”

And another, and another, and another… He passed a lot of his morning there, having fun or merely entertain himself with the posts of the fandom. More than always.

Ronnie wake up. And her husband isn’t there with her. “John… at least today…” she though resigned meanwhile she puts her robe and his flip-flops.

When she was about to down the stairs, she listened a loud laugh. “He’s in the studio”.

She knocked the door.

And he sighed. “why Ronnie?” he though. But he said “come in!”, still laughing.

“Morning Ronnie!” he said as any morning. But that one wasn't like any morning. Was the morning.

She stared at him, after close the door behind her.

“Just that?”

He rolled his eyes, sighing.

“Happy anniversary Ronnie!” and he smiled quite exaggerated. “Come here”.

She was with mixed thoughts and kinda hysterical, but she approached him. She after a few steps was at his side. He hugged her, still in that comfy chair, with funny face. She couldn’t resist to hug him too, caressing his almost bald head. “Sometimes I hate your behavior John” though Ronnie. “But anyways i think that I still like to be with you, haha”, continued in her mind, quite smiling.

He, moving his face to leave that embrace, said “Well honey, I told it. I was cute no? hahaha. Stay with me and have fun with me reading that things that under 30-years-old girls write and draw about us”.

She stepped away from him.

“John, that people are just being kind with you. A lot of people recognize you now. A whole new generation. And they’re educated greeting us for the anniversary”, she said watching at him.

He laughed. Turning his chair in her direction, he continued talking.

“Ron, that people thinks that marriage its easy, plus having 6 SIX kids to raise! Isn’t nice, it’s hard! And super stressful!”

Her face showed her nuisance.

“Ha, really you say that? You always recording or touring or in an endless holidays. I raised OUR kids ALONE a lot of time!”

He sighed so deeply. He started to need another cigarette. Now his arms are crossed.

“Really this again? Honey, stop. We fixed that already. Now i’m more at home with you and I helped a lot raising to our youngest kids”

Without thinking in the repercussion of her words, she said “Yeah, just because Freddie died before the birth of our youngest ones” and she half turned to her left, arms crossed.

He was without words. Was like a dagger in his heart. He didn’t knew how to react. A lot of mixed feelings. His hands in his face, he reclined his head.

“Veronica, get out.”

She, watching the results of her impulse, tried to fix that situation… in vain.

“But John, it wasn’t m-”

“GET. OUT.” His words were like a sharp.

She left the room, almost crying. “Well I’ll change my clothes meanwhile… and ill make my breakfast” she though in the meanwhile.

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

That old wound was opened. he remembered that words about getting older together writing songs. he remembered how Freddie cheered him up to write songs, how he said once “shhhh John it’s creating”. He remembered noticed that scars. And knowing that his friend would die sooner than everyone expected. “He had a lot to give… We lost a lot of moments together for that damn disease. He was my real fuel to composing, and when he gone, my interest faded away. I just wanted to survive…” he started to think. He raise of his chair and took an old whiskey that he had over there, serve a glass of it and drank it of one sip. He lighted that necessary cigarette, now watching at the window, immersed in memories, in things that happened… He cried.

In audible voice, he said

“Fuck you Ronnie. Why you said that? Why you opened that wound again?” He sighed deeply, putting the cigarette in his mouth and aspiring the smoke. “I can’t live with you, but I can’t live without you, sadly.” Exhaled the smoke for his mouth. “Why I couldn’t leave you? I’m a masochistic? I love a lot to my offspring? In the very deep inside, I still love you? I don’t know really…” Aspired the smoke of the cigarette again, the last one. The cigarette its too short now. Throwing the cigarette to the floor, he stepped on it, turning it off. Exhaling the smoke, he continued. “You are my life, despite all the events. I give you my life. My love. My “freedom”. I married with you just having 23 years old. I REALLY loved you. Now?” He sighs deeply. “I don’t know. I just know that I don’t hate you”.

He didn’t knew that those words were listened for her, she opened silently the door minutes ago to apologize her for her words and she stared there, listening.

“John…” she said with tears in her eyes.

He turned his face enough to show her that he noticed her presence, smiling. She entered to the room running. She hugged him. “Sorry John. I- I was impulsive”.

Now watching at the window again, he said “nothing to sorry. It’s okay” and he placed his left hand over her hand that was hugging him from the back. He take that hand and kissed it. He turned to her and hugged her tightly.

“You should knocked that door first, he said, leaving the embrace.

“well, I-” started to say Ronnie, kinda scared.

“hahahaha! Relax! Now come with me and read that things that the people say about us” he said going to sit to his chair again.

“No John.” she said, shaking his head.

“Uh Ron, you’re booooooring! hahahah”

“That aren’t plans for an anniversary” she said, getting closer to him.

Watching at her eyes, he said “and go for a dinner today? We don’t usually go to dinner and you want TODAY? Oh, and I just hope that you didn’t asked to the Father of the parish to office a Mass for our anniversary! I’ll not go to the church today, and nevermore!”

She stared in silence, incapable to react. Her plans are discovered.

He watched at her, smiling mischievously. “Ha, Mrs you’re so predictable…” he thought.

She, trying to cover her real intentions, responded “Eeeeeh, no. I didn’t do that! You know me John, hehe… I’ll just cook a special meal.”

“No Ron. I’ll do that, and I promise, will not be cheese on toast” he replied smiling lightning another cigarette.

He had a surprise. But one that just he knew… And eventually Ronnie. Because something like that deserves an adequate celebration. And will be at Deacon style.

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

If you liked this fic, please reblog and leave a comment! (or if you’re shy, a reply, some emojis as response or an ask (could be in anon!)).

-Lily.

#painandpleasure86 fics #painandpleasure86 posts #johnica #johnicaweek2020 #john deacon #veronica tetzlaff #queen fic #queen fanfiction #deaky #deacy #wedding anniversary #queen fanart #queen fandom

27 notes · View notes

kpopficsincorporated · 5 years

Text

NK (New Kid)

Pairings: Bang Chan x reader, Jimin x reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance

Words: 2318

a/n: alright, here is the first chapter. Let me know how you guys feel about it. I have a good chunk of the chapters planned already, so please anticipate!!

Prologue, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 1

You were sitting where you usually sat – on the couch in the studio with Chan working away at the desk. You were sitting with your legs up and crossed on the couch, your books open all around you and your laptop in front of you as you typed away on a paper that you had started that day.

You had started your friendship with the boys 7 months ago. You had decided to spend all of your time studying in South Korea instead of going home back to the states. The night you met them was overwhelming but they grew on you and you grew on them. Now you spent most of your free time with them, still not having made any friends in college besides simple acquaintances. You had been working hard in school, not sure what you would do with your degree after. On the bright side, your Korean was much better and you could easily follow along with the boys conversation and were no longer left in the dark.

The boys worked hard to help you learn, especially Chan and Felix. If you started to look lost in a conversation they would take over and explain so that you could learn and keep up with the other boys.

Despite spending your time with all of the boys at first, you’d ended up gravitating more towards Chan. You were closest to him and spent a lot of one on one time with him.

Like now, you were in the studio with Chan, just sitting in each other’s presence. You also watched movies together when you guys had time, but you were mostly in the studio. You had never been able to spend time with the boys outside of their dorm or the JYP building, but they made it work.

“Okay, I think I’m ready for you,” Chan interrupted you mumbling over your paper, taking his headphones off. You looked up and then quickly back down at your things to move them off of you.

“Alright, let me hear,” you walked over to Chan, standing beside him and putting your arm around the back of his chair. He handed you the headphones and you listened to what he had prepared, memorizing it. Once it had ended, you spoke, “Again.”

Chan played the music a couple more times over before you were ready. “Okay, so, there is one part that is a little off on the bridge.” You pulled a chair up beside him, adjusting the mic to you. You sang what the bridge should do to make it sound right and Chan took that and added it to his already existing music. He played it back for you and approved.

“Okay, are you ready to add your parts?”

“Yeah. Play it from the beginning.” You had been helping Chan with harmonies since he learned you had a talent for it. You had done all kinds of choir from the age of 12, that listening for harmonies and correcting them were second nature. It was kind of a habit for you. If you listened to a song on the radio, it was a guarantee that you would harmonize. It was kind of your thing.

That was how Chan found out that you could sing. A couple of months after meeting the boys, they had left you at the dorm so they could go practice. You had a lot of studying and homework to do anyway, so you stayed behind willingly. You always put on music while doing your work to keep you from getting too bored. You had your speaker on and you were in the midst of performing a Disney song when you were caught. Chan was the first one to start clapping at the end of your performance, startling you.

He had then persuaded you to work with him. He had said he was struggling with some of his music, but you knew it was a lie. You still have no idea why he wanted your help, but you weren’t going to complain. It was fun and it was a way to spend time with him.

When you had finished helping him record, you made your way back to the couch to finish your paper – you only had two paragraphs left. Just as you had settled back into your place and rereading your paper, there was a knock at the door.

BamBam burst through the door, loudly announcing his presence.

“Wassup?” He made his way to Chan, doing some weird handshake and made his way to sit on the couch on the other side of you. “Yo, Y/N, wassup?” He looked like he was on top of the world and you couldn’t help but giggle, copying the handshake for his amusement.

“What brings you here on this fine day?” Chan asked, spinning his chair around and taking a break from his work. BamBam leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, stealing a quick look your way before answering Chan.

“I actually need to talk to Y/N.” He leaned back, crossing his legs and turning his body towards you. “I kind of have a favor, but it’s not my favor, ya know?” you furrowed your brows, saving your document and placing your laptop on the coffee table in front of you.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Okay, so, you know how NK helped Jackson on his album?” Oh yeah, that was one of the biggest things you had done. Jackson had come in one day four months ago while you were helping Chan on a song, and once he heard your singing, he had begged you to feature on a song he was working on. You were really hesitant on putting your identity out there, not wanting all the fame that came with it. You liked your privacy and liked not being chased by cameras.

Jackson solved your identity issue and gave you a stage name: NK (New Kid). NK featured on Jackson’s album and had become very popular among both the fans and other artists. JYP had you sign a contract to help protect you in case anything happened. You were officially but really unofficially a JYP artist. Only on paper though; you were very adamant on your identity being hidden. They had you create an Instagram and twitter account so that people had something to follow. You posted when you could and it kept people somewhat satisfied. There was still a lot of speculation as to who NK could be and you were once almost caught – all because Jackson wanted to go out and celebrate his album being released. Luckily you were decked out in dark, way too big for you clothes and Jackson had given you a mask and sunglasses to hide your face (just in case). Good thing, too. Neither of you realized that you were being followed. You were lucky that the restaurant you went to eat at had a secluded area where you could dine in privacy. There were all kinds of rumors going around and all the internet has is a blob of black clothing to speculate who you could be.

“And?” you asked, wondering where he could be going with this. Was there another picture of you circulating out there? Did they find out who you were?

“I have a friend who would like to work with you on a song.” Your eyes widened. Someone else wanted to work with you?

“Me? What? Why?” you asked in rapid succession.

“Who wants to work with her?” Chan asked instead, drawing Bam’s attention away from you.

“Kook,” was all he answered before turning back to you, only to notice your eyes basically popping out of your head.

“You’re lying,” you shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy beside you on the couch. “Am I being pranked right now?” You knew exactly who ‘Kook’ was. Everyone who knew Bam, knew who he was. Kook a.k.a. Jungkook from BTS. Bam literally never stops talking about that particular friend plus all of the other 97 liners in that group chat.

Bam Bam just started laughing, as he put your finger down himself. “No, I’m serious. Kook heard you feature on Jackson’s album and has been your fanboy since. He was actually pissed that I wouldn’t tell him who you were. He’s been begging me to ask you for a feature for months.”

“Oh my gravy,” you looked at Chan, who was sitting too still for you not to notice. When you call his name, he takes one look at you and relaxes. He smiles and you feel better. “Before I decide, can I meet with him? There’s a lot of secrecy that has to be involved with me.” You turn your attention back to Bam Bam.

“Yeah, one sec,” Bam hits a number on speed dial and it starts ringing immediately. Your eyes widen in horror as he clicks the speaker phone.

“I DIDN’T MEAN RIGHT N-“

“Hello,” answers an eager male voice.

“Hey, dude. She wants to talk to you,” Bam hands his phone to you, smiling mischievously. You glare at him as you take the phone.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you greet with forced enthusiasm. Not because you didn’t want to speak to Jungkook, but because Bam Bam had forced you to do it now when you were wholly unprepared.

“H-hello, Miss NK,” he sounds nervous. You snort in a very unlady like manner that makes a smile flit across Chan’s features.

“There’s no ‘Miss’ needed, Jungkook. We’re the same age and you debuted before I even showed up in South Korea. If anyone should be respectful with their greetings, it should have been me. I’m sorry I greeted you so casually.” You hear his chuckle over the phone.

“I thought you were like, way older than me and I was super nervous about it.”

“Geez, Bam. You could have at least told him my age.” Said boy simply shrugged like it wasn’t his problem. “So, Jungkook, Bam tells me you want to collab?”

“Yes, absolutely. Your voice is really unique and I like it a lot. I do a lot of covers for my fans but I want to release a special song that I think they would love. But, the thing is, I need a female voice for my song.”

“Why me and not one of the staff members? I remember one of your members using a staff member in Seesaw.” You knew which member, but you weren’t gonna openly say it.

“Yeah, but that was for an album. And she got a lot more attention than she wanted. So I wanted to work with someone else,” there was a pause like he wanted to say something else. A hesitation before he spoke again. “I’m a really big fan of your voice. I would be extremely honored if I could work with you.”

You thought about it for a second before replying. It’s not like you’ve never featured before. And you were sure your surprisingly growing fan base would be happy to hear from you again. But there was still something you had to discuss with him.

“Before I agree to anything, there is something you have to understand,” you started, gathering his full attention. He hummed in affirmation. “No one can find out who I am. I’m more than just some hidden artist. I have a life outside of the music and if I’m found out, it can cause a lot of trouble for me. If I do this with you, you have to swear that you won’t sell me out.”

“I would never do such a thing! I promise! I won’t tell anyone anything. Please work with me,” Jungkook pleaded through the phone. You couldn’t say no to that. You’d be a terrible person if you turned him down now.

“Okay, I’ll work with y-“

“YES! You won’t regret it. This is going to be so much fun, I’m so excited to work with you.” You could hear his genuine excitement. It was almost palpable, even through the phone.

“Do you mind if we meet in person before we work on anything? I trust that you won’t talk, but you still have to sign a contract. JYP’s rules.”

“Yeah, totally. Whatever you need.” You let out a sigh of relief.

“When are you available?”

“I can meet you whenever tomorrow. We’re on a break right now.”

“Okay, can you come to the JYP building tomorrow? I’ll have someone meet you downstairs and you can come up to the studio to talk.”

“Okay, just text me the time!” You bid him goodbye and you huff back into the couch as Bam hangs up. You glare at him.

“Because you didn’t give me a chance to think everything over before speaking to him, you can get him from downstairs.” You would not be lenient today, you will resist Bam’s charms.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mock salutes you as he gets up from the couch to leave. “Thanks for doing this, Y/N. I’m pretty sure you just made Jungkook’s entire year.” He leaves with a final smile before you’re left alone with Chan once more.

“You were pretty quiet during the call.” When you give him your undivided attention, you notice how tense he is. “Can you do me a favor tomorrow, Chan?”

“What’s that?” he asks as he forces himself to sit back in the chair. He’s giving you a look that you can’t decipher.

“Can you please be there with me tomorrow? I don’t want to be left alone.” Chan smiles, getting up and sitting beside you on the couch. He wraps one arm around your shoulder and the other takes one of your hands.

“Of course. I’m always there for you, you know that.” His words make butterflies explode in your stomach and you’re perfectly content to stay where you are right now forever. And that sudden thought scares you.

76 notes · View notes

alexandrasavior · 4 years

Photo

Alexandra Savior AMA !!

COMING IN HOT BITCHES!!!!

Hi Alex! How much of the instrumentation was figured out before heading into the studio? Did you just bring in bare minimum demos and then fleshed them out in the studio? Or did you have most of it prepared and just recorded it? I really loved the album by the way!

Thank you! It was different for each track. A lot of the songs I had full fleshed demos that my band and I had recorded in Portland, and Sam Cohen and I worked around those. Some of the tracks like "But You" I had some Garage band demos I made on my own that we worked around, and some of the tracks like "Soft Currents" were just raw iPhone recordings of me playing and singing, and Sam and I worked out together in the studio.

Your music has some really interesting chord progressions and melodic phrases. To what extent do you consciously apply music theory to your songwriting, and how much just comes naturally from ear and instinct?

To no extent :/ I am not super skilled in music theory, I just play around until it seems like it makes sense to me

You described your desire for Belladonna of Sadness to sound "murderous", and I thought that darkness and dangerous feeling really shone through. What adjectives would you powerfully ascribe to your sophomore album? What tonal differences were important to you while recording?

I like this question! hmmmmmm. “honest"

I'm pretty new to your music, but, everyday I can't stop myself from liking it more. My two current favorite songs are “The Phantom” and “Bad Disease”. I've seen that many people prefer other songs from the album, so that made me think. What is your personal favorite song from your new album? Thanks!

“But You”!

Hypothetical: You’re making a new album and need to assemble your dream band. Anyone dead/alive. Who are you choosing?

My best friend Emma, my boyfriend, Mel, and like my therapist

Is there anything that you do in terms of practice when it comes to vocals/guitar/songwriting to improve yourself? Interested to hear

Try to play everyday

I'd love to know if you've got any cool, hidden talents that you haven't shown in public. Also I badly want to know who's done the cover for both “Saving Grace” and “Crying All the Time”.

ME! I painted them

What are your tips for marketing your music and getting more people to stream/buy your music?

I am lucky because I have a team that guides me through social posts, and a publicist. But don't post pics of your butt

Your music and music videos have so many cinematic elements to them. Does an affinity for film influence your music? If so, do you have some favorite films you can mention?

yes! Bonnie and Clyde, Rosemary's Baby, Don't Look Now, Fargo, Daisies

I've seen a few people comparing your latest work with Lana del Rey's. Do you listen to her? Was she really an inspiration for the record?

I like Lana she's talented, I understand the comparison in some ways , people tend to compare things naturally. But, no she wasn't my personal inspiration in any conscious way

Did you make a conscious effort to distance yourself from the sound of Belladonna of Sadness with this new album?

No, I have gotten mixed feedback some people say its the exact same sound, some say it is different, I just created what came naturally to me and used sounds that I am personally drawn to.

If you were to try to make someone a fan of your music, but could only show them three of your songs, what songs would you show them?

oooooh! hmmmmm. “But You”, “Audeline”, “Crying All The Time”.

Excuse me Ms. Savior - I fell in love with your duet "We're Just Making It Worse" many moons ago. What can you tell us about that song?

Thanks! Well my homie Cameron Avery wrote that tune, he just asked me to sing on it and I was glad to!

What do you think was the biggest difference between writing The Archer and Belladonna of Sadness?

i was alone

What advice would you give to up and coming musicians in the LA scene? Any Dos or Don’ts? Thank you :)

Don’t be gross and creepy! Don't worry about that hipsta shit. Do be nice and make your own shit!

What is the most unusual thing that you do to help you write or to help you get some inspiration?

Stalk all my exes’ new gfs on insta and then eat an entire chocolate cake

Will we ever get to hear your version of “Miracle Aligner”?

probs not

When does the vinyl for The Archer ship? I am hoping to get one of you drawings with mine!

First batch tomorrow 1/17/2020. Second batch Tuesday 1/21/2020. Thank You!

I saw a clip from a concert you gave recently. It was you with a couple of bandmates singing something acapella. What's that song? Is it yours? It was gooorgeous. Any chance you're coming to Barcelona?

"The Oak and The Ash", an old celtic song. I will be playing Sala Nau May 13th!!!!!!!!

Can you talk about the differences in recording your first album while signed to a major label and this album while signed to a indie label? I know you’ve spoken about why you left Columbia, but I was wondering how your personal process differed this time around, especially with different resources and personnel?

Yeah it was a lot less pressure making this record, I had more say and more freedom of expression.

You said in an interview that you wrote the songs for The Archer on piano or guitar and brought them to the studio recorded on your phone. Would you ever consider releasing these as bonus tracks?

I might ya! They’re probably a lot less interesting than you think

Do you have any tips on how to overcome writers block/find new ways to approach writing ? I've been struggling a bit lately... Have you been reading lately? If so, what books would you recommend ? :)

Just be kind to yourself, do what is natural, don't beat yourself up. I just re-read "My Year of Rest and Relaxation" by Otessa Moshfegh, now I am ready " Conversations With Friends" by Sally Rooney. I would recommend any Joan Didion, also I enjoy Salingers "Nine Stories"

This album feels a lot more personal than the first one. How would you say it compares in relation to how you expressed yourself as an artist?

I was very insecure while writing my first record, and I was co-writing so I used a lot of techniques to shelter my own opinions and feelings, in The Archer it was just me, so it was more of a journal entry than a big fancy record

Which artists did you grow up admiring, and inspired your style? Also, do you have any poetry recommendations, seeing how all your lyrics are poems in their own right?

hmmmm. ok Hilary Duff, Elvis, The White Stripes, Billie Holiday. Poetry: I don’t read much poetry but I like Rimbaud and Sylvia Plath

How did you feel when you found out “Risk” played on True Detective?

I cried

On Belladonna, what inspired the lyrics and melody for “Till You're Mine”? That song is always on repeat in my household.

Thanks! I would say my own insecurities and jealousy towards a specific woman in my life

Do you write the melodies as well as the lyrics or is it a collaborative effort?

For this record I wrote the melodies, lyrics, and chords for every song aside from "The Phantom" which was a collaboration with Sam Cohen.

What inspired you to make this new album?

I just make songs, and each song was inspired by something different, but mostly I needed to show people I WRITE MY SONGS

Do you have plans to sell more merch? I would really love to get my hands on signed stuff or one of your drawings/crafts.

yes workin' on merch now! <3

As a budding songwriter and musician myself is there any advice or wisdom you could pass on when it comes to making a career out of it?

I think writing as much as you can and trying to write honestly is important. I was lucky in a strange string of events that started my career, and every dream is different, but I suppose just keep writing and releasing your songs wherever you can

Often when I listen to music I tend to relate the song to places I've been to or places I'm at while listening. Is it the same for you when you write your songs? Do you think about a specific place for each song?

Yeah totally!

Would you ever be interested in collaborating with another artist on their record?

Yeah! Depends on who, I have always wanted to sing on a rap song.

Collab with Weyes Blood coming anytime soon?

i wish brah

Any tips on staying sane with dating apps?

don’t do dating apps

Romance is a topic which you touch upon in both of your albums. Do you have any words or phrases that have helped you through a difficult time, both in dealing with or exploring relationships past or present, if so what are they? What is your favorite set of lyrics ever, i.e. phrases etc.

"fuck hem he's a deck", "Kathy's Song" Simon and Garfunkel, "I Remember" Molly Drake

Do you use more real life experience or do you use more imagination/creativity when writing lyrics?

Depends how boring my personal life is at the time haha

What's your favorite Beatle, favorite Beatle album and favorite Beatle song?

Georgie boy <333333333

Are there any plans to record/release that “political song” with the violin that you played at Homiefest last year? For a third album maybe? Thanks, loved you since 2015 when I first heard that “Risk” demo for True Detective. The Archer is a masterpiece no bullshit.

maybe! lol

Where is the love for Chicago? How come we haven't had any shows yet?

Give me a break homie I don't plan this stuff! Would love to come to Chicago! It all depends on timing and $$$$

What was the most challenging song to write on this record?

maybe bad disease

Will there be more music videos?

I dont think so :/

I noticed for both of your releases, theres been a decent amount of time.. between when they were recorded and released. Have you found this frustrating more than anything or is it nice to have time to sit with the album?

Well, sometimes it is hard to move on and write more, with so much time between the final touches of the record and the actual release.... But, it ebs and flows and its out now so its no difference to me now

Who are some artists/bands that you personally enjoy listening to?

Jessica Pratt, The Jhamels, Molly Drake

You also seem like a prolific painter, who would you point to as inspiration/muse? My best guess would be Picasso.

Alice Neel 100%

When you feel like you’re stuck when you’re writing a song, what do you do to get around it?

I stop writing for a while, don't force it. Everyone's process is different so I try not to beat myself up too much about it

When Kevin Parker hit reddit someone asked him about if he can upload a new song and he did so... Can we hear a new song ?

If Kevin Parker jumped off a bridge WOULD YOU ?!

Who's your dream musical collab? If you were to make a soundtrack what director would you work with?

dream collab: Snoop Dogg, director: Quentin

Can you say a little bit about the creation of the album art? It's understated but there is definitely a mood there!

my dear friend Dana Trippe took the photos, and my dear friend Aaron Mitchell did the fonts

Noticed your music has a very “old horror movie/spaghetti western” vibe to them. Any films/soundtracks that inform your sound you’d recommend?

ooooh Anything Coen Brothers or Wes Anderson

How much was growing up in Portland an influence on your music?

I would say the rain had a lot to do with my melancholy, but also the music scene in Portland has always been very DIY and rock-based so “ guess that influenced me in some way.

What’s your favorite song of your’s lyrically and your favorite song to perform?

fave lyrically: Bad Disease, fave to perform: But You or Mystery Girl

The whole record was amazing but “Soft Currents” keyboards are really something else, are you planning to write more on the piano?

thank you! yes been writing a lot on the ole ivories

I love how a lot of your songs sound very cinematic - would you like to get into movie music in some capacity? Either scoring or soundtrack?

Awh hell yeuh

Is there a particular song that you're most proud of?

But YOu!

What would you say is your favorite guitar that you own and what is your dream guitar to own?

I am not much of a gear-head though I would love and old nylon string

Do you think that “Risk” will ever be made available on Spotify and Apple Music?

Unfortunately, because it was released on T-Bone Brunette's label, there was a legal situation that made me unable to release it separately. :/

Will you be making more of those amazingly weird embroidered underwear for your new tour? Obvs need some Savior swag on this tush.

I wish! I don’t have a sewing machine anymore but I will be selling my lil boxes online soon

Any chance for a show in Toronto? I'm a big fan, and I introduced my mom to your music and she absolutely loves you (her words) so I'd love to take her to one of your shows

hahah awh <3 None planned at the moment :(

What song on The Archer was a struggle to finish? Or were they all easy?

easy peasy lemon squeezy

Don't want to take away from your latest release (because it is an amazing album) but was there a reason you decided to not work with Alex Turner or James Ford for any of the new songs, writing or producing?

-__-

Since both your albums have been about relationships mostly, would you ever consider making a political song/album? What is your stance on that old debate?

I write what comes naturally to me

What should I name my snail stuffed animal?

gail

Why didn’t you get a proper promotional run from Columbia for Belladonna? It’s an amazing album but I just found out about you through The Archer (which is equally amazing).

I can't really say, but I don’t think I was ever gonna make the kind of $$$ Columbia wanted

Would you like to tour South America at some point in your career?

awh hell yeuh!

Is there any particular era/motive which inspires your music visuals (album covers, music videos)? All the best from Split, Croatia!

70s!

Based on your Spotify stats, what are the countries that listen to you the most?

IDK! France seems to be very supportive

Any artist that you like that you could recommend?

Jessica Pratt, Sudan Archives, Vagabon

What's your favorite thing to draw/paint?

women

Who is your favorite artist / what is your favorite album at the moment, and how would you say this impacted on how The Archer sounds? Also please come to the North of England 😂

I AM!!! CHECK MY TOUR SCHEDULE AND COME BB!! favorite album rn "The Colour Green" by Sibylle Baier

What’s playing in your head now?

the click clacking of a mac keyboard

How do you like your coffee?

a lil bit of almond milk

Will The Archer be getting a cd release?

no :(

That's all folks! Thank for all of the questions, and most of all thank you so much for listening to my songs, it is a dream come true <3 Come see me play at my upcoming shows ! Can't wait to see you there <33333 amour my homies

#alexandra savior #interview #(in a way)#reddit ama #2020 #*

8 notes · View notes

tiredfandomtrash · 4 years

Text

Something a little bit different for today, since it’s the lover’s days and all, me and @paraisles I can’t at them tumblr please did a writing collab for a nice and sweet Valentine’s story Haha posting my writing for the first time here, oof Anyyways, without further ado, enjoy! (I wrote the beginning, Jackie and Marvin’s parts) ---------- Valentine’s day. Such a special day for some. It’s all about the love, hugs, little kisses and sweet gifts.. Right? Well.. Not for everyone. Chase woke up, opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for good 10 minutes before even considering getting up. It’s not that he even knew what day it was. He lost track of time a long time ago. And maybe it would’ve been for the best if it stayed this way. But it seemed his friends had a different plan. After eventually dragging himself out of bed, the man did his morning routine, went downstairs and to his surprise, there was a knock on his front door. With slight confusion, since he doesn’t get visitors often, he opened the door. It was the postman. “Mr. Brody?” “Um.. Y-yeah.” “A letter for you. With a special message from the person. Since she gave it to me herself.” The man cleared his throat, then started reciting said message. “My love for you is bigger than the whole universe and you’re the best dad ever, mommy said we can see you on the weekend but we wanted to give you this card earlier so you can remember how much we love you.” Chase was listening in some sort of disbelief. But a soft smile curled up his lips. “Did she really tell you all of that?” “Word to word, sir. She really insisted that I tell you that. Sweet girl.” He handed Chase the letter. “Yeah. Yeah she is. Thank you.” He said with a nod. “Have a good day, sir!” “Yeah.. You too, man.” He turned around, closing the door with a small kick, since he was too focused on looking at the letter. He went to the living room, flopping down on the couch. After opening the letter his heart skipped a beat. He forgot it’s the day. The one that reminds him of good memories, that hurt more than anything right now. He bit his lip, staring at his daughter’s handwriting. They just wanted to make the day better for him. Inside was a nice, very glittery drawing of Chase, Lily and Tommy. His two little angels. He chuckled, smiling sadly at it. With a small sigh, he got up and hung it up on the fridge. Besides the drawing, a small sweet letter was inside. He read it and couldn’t help but tear up. He misses his kids so, so much. But knowing that they still love him so much makes it hurt a bit less. Since he wasn’t sure what to do, now that he knew what day it was, he sort of sat on the couch, thinking back to everything. When did he start crying? He’s not sure. Thankfully, another knock to the door helped him snap out of it. He quickly wiped his tears away then went to open the door. Who is it this time?? “Morning, Chaser!” A familiar voice greeted him, beaming with positivity as always. “Hey, Jackie..” The father responded, with obviously not as much enthusiasm. He let the hero inside, closing the door behind him. “You’re looking a lil gloom. Bad thoughts?” He questioned, worry growing inside of him. Chase waved his hand, shaking his head. “Don’t worry.” He murmured, looking up at him. “Whaddya want?” “Well, first of all, I always worry about you. And second, I just thought I’d drop by before going to work to check up on you and all that.” He shrugged a little, smiling. “And also might’ve brought you a gift-” “Jackie-” “I know, I know, you don’t like when we spend money on you. Listen, I don’t care and I'll say it as many times as I have to for you to understand.” He reached to his hood, and pulled a small teddy bear that was holding a heart out. He grinned and handed it to the other. “Happy Valentine’s day, bro.” “….You kept it in your hoodie-” He took the bear from him, squeezing it a little. “Listen I ain’t gonna carry a cute red bag with hearts or something around when I'm in my suit, that’d just. Look odd-” The hero explained, a little pink spreading on his cheeks. “So you kept it in your hoodie.” “Yes.” Chase let out a small laugh then hugged the other. “You’re such a dumbass sometimes, but I still love you.” He muttered against his chest. Jackie happily hugged back, ruffling the younger's hair. “Love ya too, Chaser.” They stayed like that for a moment. He knew that Chase needs the comfort. But he has to go whether he likes it or not. “Alright buddy, I'll catch ya later, alright?” He said, pulling away. He put his hands on the other's shoulders, squeezing them gently. “It’ll be alright, Chase. Don’t think of it too much.” “I'll try.. Thanks, Jackie. I owe you one.” “You don’t owe me anything, bro. Just try having a good day, kay? I love ya.” He gave his friend one more smile before exiting through the window. Extra as always. He shot his grapple hook up and was gone in a flash. Chase sighed, squishing the plushie tightly. As much as he appreciated that small gesture, his thoughts were eating him up too much. He set the bear aside, noting to take it back to his bedroom later, then decided that if he wants to clear his head, he’d have to go for a walk. But first, he opened the fridge. He didn’t feel hungry. Even thought he probably should eat something. With another louder sigh, Chase grabbed a bottle of beer, closed the door, then went to the cupboards. He took out a protein bar. “Better than nothing.” And so he left his apartment, trying his best to not think about all the things that this day always brings back. Some time later, he sat at a bench in a nearby park, using his remaining motivation to take a sip from his bottle of alcohol. This day wasn’t looking too well so far, and he wasn’t very excited about it since he was alone again. In a few minutes, a young fellow started to approach him, wanting to lift the depressed male’s spirits. “JJ? How are you here?” He spoke in a low, sluggish tone to the cheerful fellow. “Marvin told me that he sensed your sadness, and he sent me to go cheer you up. Now, I’m here! What’s wrong?” JJ signed, showing a smile in return. “I’m okay, bud. Don’t worry.” The male lied, trying to cover up the alcohol that was clearly being able to control his voice’s tone. “Don’t give me that excuse. I know something’s wrong!” JJ’s facial expression became worrisome, and he started to worry. Chase knew that he couldn’t get past the ol’ chap, no matter how hard he tried. He set down his bottle and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Alright, you caught me. Something is wrong. In fact, everything’s wrong. Stacy left me and took my kids. They don’t have a father to teach them what they need for survival in this world. I recently got evicted from my home, so now I had to get a new place to stay at. That’s what’s wrong.” Chase let out a heavy sigh once again, noticing tears stain his gray shirt, but he attempted to hide them under his hat. “Come with me, please.” JJ signed once more before he helped Chase up and walked with a hand on the capped male’s shoulder with a big ol’ smile. “Where are we going?” Chase questioned the ol’ chap, and JJ stopped walking. “Somewhere where you’ll be happy.” That was JJ’s final sign to his fellow friend before they continued walking on the bright street. After the long walk he and JJ took, the dapper man had to leave. As a goodbye, Chase gave him a long hug and some "Thank you's" then they were on their own way. The father stood there for a while. "Look at you two. So cute." A familiar, soothing voice called. Chase jumped where he stood, whipping around to look at the magician he knew far too well. His expression went from surprised, to angry, to just a little shocked. "You're going to give me a heart attack one day." Marvin chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sorry, sorry. I know I shouldn't just teleport behind people randomly." Chase rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't give me that look, hon, you know that I only ever want the best for you." "You're not wrong there. What is it this time, though?" He questioned, tilting his head. "Well." The magician put his hand on the other's shoulder. "It's my turn to put a smile on your face, hm?" Without further questioning, he hooked their arms together and started walking. "I'm taking you out to lunch, so there's something other than alcohol in your body." "you're acting like my mom, Marv-" "Well someone has to!" The magician objected, putting his other hand in his pocket. "And if it means I'm going to mother you, then so be it." He hummed, nudging Chase's side lightly. The other chuckled softly, looking up at him. "We're gonna have some nice hours, okay? No sad thoughts, no overthinking things. Just you, me and some nice food." "That does sound appealing.. I'll give it a shot, ha." Chase always knew that Marvin was really caring. Deep down, he was the softest and kindest soul out there. He just puts on a tough face, because he knows how unkind the world is. But in all honesty, he always felt like he and the magician had a special connection. He just seemed to always know what he needed most at a certain time. And he always appreciated it more than anything. After maybe 10 minutes of walking, they got to the place Marvin wanted to take him to. "Looks cozy." "Just like you like it. Simple but cozy." He led him to one of the tables. Seems like it was reserved for them. "So, sweetheart, got any upcoming plans?" He questioned, smiling at his friend warmly. "Oh.. Um.. N-not really? At least none that I can remember." He shrugged, responding with a smile as well. "I guess I'm just kind of.. Going with the wind, y'know? Whatever comes my way, I'll take it on." He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. "But things aren't that bad. So.. I guess that's a nice change." Chase didn't go out all that much, so it felt a bit weird.. Being surrounded by other people. People that minded their business and didn't care about him. They didn't even see him, nor did he see them. All that really mattered right then and there was talking with Marvin. And.. It helped. It really did. He talked about surprisingly a lot. And the magician listened, gave him some advice and reassuring words. It was nice. He really did feel.. Happy. Yeah. Yeah, he felt happy. For the first time in a long time, he just let loose, forgetting about his worries. Cracking jokes every now and then, smiling, laughing. He even ate something. It was the nicest feeling of all. Carelessness, but the good type. You stop worrying just for a moment, not bothering to think of the things troubling you. Because you should live in the moment, right? And god, did he miss that. It felt like taking a breath for the first time in a long time. And that's something Chase needed. He's more than happy that he has the others in his life. He'd be so lost without them. And once they were done with their food, and talking for now, it was time to go. "You know, I really enjoyed all this." He said, smiling at the magician. “And.. Just, thanks, Marv. For helping." Before he could even say more the other crushed him in a hug. A nice, warm hug. He wrapped his arms around Marvin and hid his face in his shoulder. "Thanks for all this. Really.." "You know that it's no problem for me, sweetheart." He responded, rocking them to the sides lightly. "I love you, Chase. Don't forget about that, okay?" "How could I? You remind me about that at least twice a day." He joked, looking up at him. Marvin chuckled, kissed his forehead, then smiled. And Chase smiled back. "I love ya too. I really do." "I'll see you later, hm? Just like every other week?" "I don't have lots of plans so you know it." One more squeeze and they pulled away. "Cya around, Marv." "Have a lovely rest of the day. You deserve it." "You too, buddy. You too." And so, they both went their own way. And once Chase was back home, he didn't get lost in thought as usual. Actually, he was just thinking to all the things that happened today and how much they lifted his spirit. How nice it was to feel alive again. Henrik knew very well what this day was. It was Valentine’s Day, and he was battling some things of his own, but he shoved them all aside just for this day. A certain someone needed a check-up. “Time to visit one of my recent patients...to check on how he’s doing.” Henrik seemed a little sluggish, but that was a normal trait for him. After all, he was the best doctor in all of town. “Geez…” A thick German accent came out of his mouth, yet he walked casually down Chase’s street and quietly knocked on the door. Henrik didn’t want to disrupt his patient, so he would always be patient and knock quietly. “Henrik, what brings you here? Sure, I visit you weekly, but that doesn’t really require you to visit my house, ya know.” The capped male smiled sadly with a pity laugh. Henrik didn’t say much, but he returned the smile out of pity and entered the home. “I have come in favor of myself to ask you one thing. How are you doing? I know things have been hard with your wife and kids, but I promise that things will be better. We’re here for you. I’ve been informed that JJ, Jackie, and Marvin all cheered you up a good bit.” Henrik chuckled while sitting on the sofa with his patient beside him. “I’ve been doing fine, Henrik. they helped me with the pain a lot, actually. Their time with me helped me forget it for a while. I’m glad you visited, actually. I know that Jack’s anniversary for the channel is coming up, so if possible, could you extend the waiting hours for longer? I was wanting to visit him by myself.” Chase asked, hoping and praying that Henrik would approve of the request. “I’ll see what I can do, Chase. I promise that you’ll be able to visit him.” Henrik smiled and was given a genuine hug by Chase and returned it before he left. Chase let out a heavy sigh as he entered his littered car with one thought in mind. He only wanted to visit an old friend of his. He was able to get Henrik to extend the visiting hours for everyone, so he was able to stay longer than usual. Once he entered the hospital, he tried his best to keep his heart rate down while he asked for Jack’s real name, and arrived at the room. “Hey, buddy.” He spoke in a quiet tone with a sad smile, but all Chase wanted was for Jack to wake up. He just wanted him back, but he knew that would be a rarity of events. “Listen, if you hear me right now, just know that we’re here for you. We’ll be here for you when you wake up.” Next thing Chase knew, his hand inched over to grab Jack’s. “You know, I remember the first Valentines after Stace left. And how you spent the whole day with me and wouldn't let me even think about her for a second. I miss you buddy. I really do.. But I would lie if I said that things aren't a bit better now." Chase smiled with a sad look on his face. He missed his best friend. If anything, the others missed their best friend as well. “I’ll be back to visit you later, alright? Please...don’t forget about us and everything you’ve created. We love you and always will.” Chase placed a kiss on the limp hand before quietly leaving his seat and the dark room. He only wanted Jack to get better.

#jackepticeye #chase brody #jackieboy man #Jameson jackson #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #valentine's day #my writing #wowie #that's actually longer than I thought it was #oop

2 notes · View notes

writtenwordsoffic · 6 years

Text

An Absentminded Encounter - Collab - Jughead x reader

Masterlist

@idle-lanes@sgarrett49@murderyoursoul@moonlight53@redhairedoddity

So this is something new and different. Back in the day (yes I'm that old people) we called this a boomerang story. Where one writer writes one part and so on and so on. So I'm happy to have @lostnliterature write this with me as she is a good one (newer to the game on here) and hopefully you guys like it as well.

It is loosely based off of the lyrics of "Mine" by Taylor Swift.

@lostnliterature will be posting about this as well so give her some love as you guys have to me and it would be much appreciated. Thanks for reading as always!

The *ding* brought memories back to him in a flood. Nights where all he drank was coffee to get him through writing. Burgers that he enjoyed countless times, while enjoying the company of his friends. Time's where a passersby would make snide comments about his family. But Jughead Jones was used to the past. What he needed was a new adventure. And while entering that new diner, he found one.

I had been going to Glo’s for years, basically ever since my parents would let me ride the Bainbridge Island-Seattle ferry on her own. It’s a quaint little diner and coffee house on Olive Way in the Capitol Hill district of Seattle. Now the diner is only a few blocks from my job, making it my ‘to go’ lunch break spot. I was quick to notice the new face in the diner I frequent, a slim looking boy with black curly hair hidden under a strange looking beanie. It’s not uncommon to see unfamiliar faces in the coffee house by any means, but there is something different about him. I can tell that he easily fits into the seattle lifestyle, but there is also something about him that tells me he isn’t a native. The way he would hesitate for a second, as if expecting a snide comment or judgement from everyone is what really stands out. As intriguing as the male was, I know better than to seek out answers, he is probably just a tourist anyways.

It’s been about two months since he showed up, around the time classes started at the college near by, and I haven’t said more than a couple words to him. Instead, I stay determined to continue to keep my nose in a book while also observing the other patrons and picking up on new information just by being in the same room.

It had been proven that the raven haired boy is not a tourist by now, he has even picked up a job at Glo’s. Yet, I continue to keep my head down, cautious of drawing attention to myself as I read whatever book I am reading that day. The titles changing at least once a week as I finish the prior, and reading is my main distraction while on lunch break nearly everyday.

She always had her nose in a book. And the book always changed quite often. Jughead would watch her with more intent than what the grayed old man was ordering in front of him. He would see names change every few days - Kafka, Poe, Browning and then to Alcott. She seemed to have an interest in a lot of things - and yet she remained silent. Usually only having two specified orders that the Jones boy had memorized by now. (Stick two simple orders here so she has a taste for something). She always came in at the same time. Usually on the dot. And this was the day, Jughead thought. This was the day that he would get more than her order - because today he would finally ask her name and what she was all about.

It's Tuesday, usually a slow day at A Tale Twice Sold, and today has been no exception. A few stragglers have wandered in, two regulars and a couple new faces wander the shelves as I organize and put away books, going to the register when I see a customer heading up there. So, when lunch rolls around at 1, Helen, the owner of the shop and a very lovely older woman, tells me that I can take an extra hour to get some fresh air and have some fun. I laugh lightly at her comment, quickly thanking her for my now two hour lunch break with a hug. We both know that I am going to the same place I always do, just for an extra hour today. It's my definition of fun in its own way, reading in an atmosphere I enjoy, I mean. I finished The Hunchback of Notre Dame last night, and I need something new. It doesn't take me long to pull an old worn out copy of The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, it's a book I've read before but it is also one I love, it's been a few years anyways, so why not. Grabbing my cross-body, army green, purse and throwing it over my shoulder, I wave to Helen like usual before starting my trek to the cafe. Helen has always been a mother figure for me, after she found out about my home life she stepped up voluntarily and took the roll with pride. I don't know what I would have done without her all these years.

Five minutes is what it takes me to get to Glo's and I sit at my usual two person table by the window, opening my book and jumping into the fictional world without any thought. The dark haired boy is around more often than not now, never without that strange beanie, and seems to have my order memorized, so I feel no guilt as I tune out the world and read the words I read years ago, a soft smile on my lips from the memories the book brings me.

She had become enchanting by him while he saw a curved upper mouth trickle her lips. He was enticed by them as well as her. She had a way of entering the room mostly unnoticed. He always did though. Something about the way she would walk with a nose in her book as if she had memorized her path weeks ago. As if her feet knew her direction but her mind knew that her table would always be open at this time.

“Would you just go talk to her Jones?”.

Jughead slapped back into reality as a palm gently hit his shoulder.

“I have talked to her”, he reluctantly gave a soft size as Joe the diner owner gave a slight frown in return.

“I mean more than her order boy…”, Joe moves his hair behind his ear with his palm - knowing what resided in Jughead's mind every time Y/N entered the diner. “Ya know, she reads books about as often as you do. You should tell her about yours”.

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Yes...I'm sure a novel about a serial killer is exactly up her alley…”

“Geez boy. Look at the books she's reading and tell me that again”.

This time Jughead didn't stare at the girl in the booth but rather at what was in her hands. A smirk that had matched Y/N’s lips had approached his own.

“Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained”. She blinked a few times while Jughead stood there nervously with her drink order.

“I guess it depends if you actually believe that”.

“Trust me - I do. You seem to be quite the bibliophile. Is that a newer accomplishment or something more natural?”.

I heard a voice I have come to recognize even though I haven't heard more than a few words come from its owner, the new guy. I look up from the pages of my book with shock written across my face. The shock turns to confusion and I comment on his quote,

“I guess it depends if you actually believe that” I state simply, the confusion morphing into curiosity when he replies back. For a moment I am silent, processing the information that he noticed me, notices me on a regular basis, at least enough to remember that I'm never without a book. I guess that shouldn't be a surprise considering he sees me enough to have memorized my order, a side order of biscuits and gravy- Glo’s has the best vegetarian gravy I've ever tried-, a seasonal fruit cup, and a large hot chocolate.

“Books are portals to worlds outside your own, a was to leave when you have to stay where you are. I've always been a bibliophile” I answer hesitantly. “Did you look that quote up before you came over here, or have you read this?” I ask with genuine curiosity. To say I'm surprising myself by participating in this conversation is an understatement. I'm going against my 'keep quiet and keep your head down’ rule, but I'm not phased by it. I would be lying to say that the dark haired boy hasn't caught my attention over the time he's been here, but I told myself I wouldn't do anything that could start a friendship, or worse, an attraction. Love is silly, it never lasts and one or both parties always end up hurt, sometimes catching others in the crossfire. I don't understand why humans willingly put themselves through that, looking for something I don't believe even exists. True love, that is. “It's fairly obvious that you aren't from around here, so how is Seattle treating you?” I question as I mark my place in my book and close it. I don't put it down though, making sure I have an easy escape if anything happens. Reaching out for my coffee I take a few sips as I watch the male, analyzing and trying to gather as much information as I can on him.

Jughead was taken aback. “Obvious huh? Sorry we can't all be thrust-ed into the hipster life of the Pacific Northwest”. Y/N looked down a bit and Jughead had realized his impulse for sarcasm wasn't entirely noticed - so he tried to make a joke out of it. “However, I do believe I have rocked the flannel far longer than most people here…”.

She looked up and gave a smile and it had seemed his softer tone has connected to her.

“To answer by the way - I didn't have to look up that quote. I know it. Like most things that strike a chord through others writing. But I think that's the point when you're trying to be one yourself…”

She perked up a little to the comment. “You’re a writer?”

Jughead gave a smirk. “I'd like to point out I don't think I'm a good one. But yeah, I write. Ever since high school. Granted, sometimes incredible stories just need to be written when presented”.

“What was the story?”, she lightly played with her fingers while trying to remain eye contact.

“There was a lot to it actually...but it all started with a missing body found off of a River”.

I tilt my head to the side in an inquiring manner when the raven haired boy mentions the story that came around was centered around a murder - or suicide maybe? Forensic psychology and murder mysteries had always been a topic of extreme interest for me.

“A body found on the shore of a river? Was there any missing persons report? Was the person known around town? You're from a small town, right? That must have been hell”. I frown, curiosity and interest growing in me as I try to put possible factors together in my head. Maybe I should lay off of the murder books, I've read The Lovely Bones too many times to count and it must be having an affect on me.

He looks a little bit shocked by my words, possibly because most people wouldn't take such interest in murders and washed up dead bodies. Of course, that thought causes me to look down at my hands quickly with a pale pink staining my cheeks.

I fiddle with the small silver ring that is on the middle finger of my left hand, a small band with the Greek keystone's cut out. It was a nervous habit I've always had and I hate it. “For the record Seattle is grunge, not hipster. Grunge was born and bred here; the music, the style, the people, and the reputation. If you are looking for the Hipsters head across the Sound to Bainbridge, Gig Harbor, or down to Olympia.” I mutter as if it's a matter of fact, my tone having a soft and subtle edge of something close to offense. What has gotten into me? Why aren't I sticking to my usual routine? Keep your head down and don't let anyone close. It's a simple agreement, so why do I want to ask him if he wants to sit? I'm going insane.

She didn't seem to notice how a smile was stuck onto Jughead's face while she rambled. He enjoyed her correcting him as most people would never challenge him. “Apparently I'm mistaken. Although, now living here, I don't know if I count as hipster or one just soaking up the grunge atmosphere”. Without hesitation, or an invite, Jughead sat down as he hoped he was welcomed to. Now he was too enamored with the girl in front of him.

#jughead jones imagine #jughead imagine #jughead x reader #jughead jones #riverdale jughead #riverdale imagines #riverdale

32 notes · View notes

mymarvelobsessions · 7 years

Text

New Beginnings

masterlist

summary: Peter Parker x reader. It’s Y/N’s first day at Midtown High, after being home schooled her whole life. She meets an old friend and a new one. Can’t be that hard right?

word count: 1650

warnings: none :)

a/n: This is a collab with my friend @barnesvogue xx

“Remember, if anyone comes too close, just hit ‘em like I taught you, alright?”

Bucky stared at you, waiting for a sign that you understood.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, dad.”

“Or just tell them your dad is the Winter Soldier.”, Steve mumbled.

Bucky’s eyes shot to Steve. “You’re not going to support me on this one?”

Steve smiled faintly. “It’s High School, Buck, she’ll be fine.”

“Yes, I will be. And if I may remind you, it was you, who said I needed to go to High School because ‘it’s a valueable life experience’.” You got up.

“Where are you going?” Bucky dropped his bread.

“I need to get ready!”, you whined. “And don’t give me any of that ‘you’re beautiful bla bla’, just trying to make a good impression.”

“'Cause you’re beautiful just the way you are…”, Steve hummed.

Chuckling, you raced up the stairs.

Twenty minutes later, you were ready to go. You had chosen your favourite outfit and put on some light makeup.

When you came back down, Steve and Bucky were still eating. “How long do you two grandpas need for breakfast?”

Bucky glared at you and even Steve looked a bit offended. Bucky set down his knife and fork, he had moved on from the bread and was now eating scrambled egg. “Well darling, Thor finally sent us his workout plan and Clint gave us a meal plan to go along with it.”

You raised one eyebrow.

“We’re just trying to get back in shape.”, Steve mumbled, blushing.

Your eyes went wide and your mouth fell open. “What?” You burst out laughing. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day!”

“It’s not even 8 a.m.”, Bucky said.

“Exactly!” You walked over to your parents and squatted down between them. You squeezed them together as best as you could. “You don’t need to get back in shape. I love you, even if you got a bit chubby!”

Bucky looked like he was going to kill you. That look would’ve sent anyone else running. But not you. You pinched his cheek. “You know I’m just kidding.” You stood back up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to school.”

“I’ll drive you.”, Steve and Bucky said in unision.

You gave a deep breath and walked to the big steps of Midtown High. Of course you were nervous after being homeschooled your whole life. Kids were rushing inside.

You figured you would hurry because you needed time to find your locker. You took the slip of paper from your pocket and read.

Barnes-Rogers, Y/N Locker: Locker 427

You folded the paper and put it back inside your pocket. “427…” You mumbled as you walked around the halls. People were talking with each other. You caught a few words about a Homecoming dance in a week.

You finally came across your locker in between a couple of boys. You pushed your way through and entered the code. Inside was empty and a bit dusty. You took out the books in your bag and kept the ones you needed.

You were just about to go to your first class when a hand stopped you. Your brunette father’s warning suddenly rang in your mind. You quickly gripped their wrist and yanked it. “Hey!” You heard a female voice yell.

You turned your head and looked at the person. It was a girl, with curly dark brown hair and chesnut coloured skin. She looked familiar. “MJ?” You said in confusion. Her eyes looked sleepy but she smiled at you.

“Y/N.” She adressed as she let go of you. “Um, sorry about that.” You apologized awkwardly. “Yeah no problem. You couldn’t hear me.” Michelle shrugged. “It’s been a while.” She smirked. “Yeah… I didn’t know you went here.”You stammered. Michelle Jones was your neighbour until you had to move away.

She had always intimidated you, but she was harmless. Just another typical, sarcastic teen. “Well, I came here about a year ago.” She said while the two of you started walking. You chuckled to yourself at the memory of you two drawing things on the sidewalk with chalk.

Just then, a shoulder bumped into yours which caused you to fall down on your bum. “I-I’m so sorry!” You heard a boy’s stammer. So much for a first day. You opened your eyes to MJ and a brunette male. MJ looked like she was about to laugh while the other kid had a look of pure horror on his face. He let out a hand and you gladly took to help yourself up.

The boy was blushing with embarrassment. “I’m really sorry about that! I should have looked where I was going.” He stuttered, gripping his bag’s strap so hard that his knuckles almost turned white. “No! No it’s fine!” You reassured as you shook off some dust. A few other people were snickering. “I’ll leave you two here.” Michelle whispered in your ear. “No, I don’t know where-” But she already dashed off. “I-I’m Parker Peter.” He smiled sheepishly. Then a wave of realization hit him. “I meant Peter Parker.” He lightly chuckled. He blushed even more.

“I’m Y/N.” You held out your hand and he shaked it. “Are you new here?” He asked. “Uh, yeah. Do you know where Mr. Harrison’s calculus class is?” You told him, not taking your eyes off the slip of paper. “Oh, yeah! That’s my first class too!” He exclaimed. “Um, do you want me to walk you? If you want.” Peter bit his lip. You thought about it. Couldn’t hurt right? “Sure.” You smiled as the two of you began walking to the class.

Five hours later:

This had been a truly stupid idea. Bucky admitted that himself. Not to Steve though. No, he would never.

“Rock, paper, scissors.” Steve looked down at their hands. “Damn it! I lost again!”

Bucky chuckled. “I spy with my little- Y/N!” He pointed outside the window. “Who is that guy?!”

Steve’s gaze shot to where Bucky was pointing. “It’s the spideyboy!”, he exclaimed.

Bucky threw open the car door. “I’m going to kill that-”

Steve grapped his arm. “Don’t make a scene. You’ll just embarass her!”

Bucky swallowed hard. “You are right. I will wait until he is somewhere less public.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Steve rolled his eyes.

The day ended with you hanging out with Peter. Michelle had gone off somewhere which left you with him as your guide. You found out he was super smart and funny too. You also found out he had a mega huge crush on a senior girl, Liz Allan. The both of you walked out of the school together. Peter had laughed at something you said. “Maybe we should hang out more.” He laughed while you agreed. “Yeah.” You shifted your stance so you were facing him. “Well I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Peter smile got even bigger. “Yes, of course!” He practically burst. He’s such a dork.

“That’s great then.” You started walking away. “Bye!” He gave a wave. “Bye!” He called out. You looked back and saw him do what looked like a victory dance. You rolled your eyes and took a turn. Time to teach your super soldier parents a lesson about stalking their teenage children.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #dad!bucky #dad!steve #peter parker fluff #stucky #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction

71 notes · View notes

spiduhgirl · 7 years

Text

New Beginnings

Summary: It’s Y/N’s first day at Midtown High, after being home schooled her whole life. She meets an old friend and a new one. Can’t be that hard right?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1650

Warnings: Fluff!!

A/N: This is a writing collab with my friend @mymarvelobsessions!

Permanent Taglist: @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @buckyappreciationsociety @rda1989 @milleniumxhan

(Tell me if you want to be part of my permanent taglist or a cartain taglist!)

Send in your requests here!

Masterlist

“Remember, if anyone comes too close, just hit ‘em like I taught you, alright?”

Bucky stared at you, waiting for a sign that you understood.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, dad.”

“Or just tell them your dad is the Winter Soldier.”, Steve mumbled.

Bucky’s eyes shot to Steve. “You’re not going to support me on this one?”

Steve smiled faintly. “It’s High School, Buck, she’ll be fine.”

“Yes, I will be. And if I may remind you, it was you, who said I needed to go to High School because ‘it’s a valueable life experience’.” You got up.

“Where are you going?” Bucky dropped his bread.

“I need to get ready!”, you whined. “And don’t give me any of that ‘you’re beautiful bla bla’, just trying to make a good impression.”

“'Cause you’re beautiful just the way you are…”, Steve hummed.

Chuckling, you raced up the stairs.

Twenty minutes later, you were ready to go. You had chosen your favourite outfit and put on some light makeup.

When you came back down, Steve and Bucky were still eating. “How long do you two grandpas need for breakfast?”

You raised one eyebrow.

“We’re just trying to get back in shape.”, Steve mumbled, blushing.

Your eyes went wide and your mouth fell open. “What?” You burst out laughing. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day!”

“It’s not even 8 a.m.”, Bucky said.

“I’ll drive you.”, Steve and Bucky said in unision.

Five minutes later you were sat in the back of your car, Steve and Bucky in the front.

“This really is not necessary. At all.”, you said. You totally did not feel like arriving at school with both your dads. Way to leave an impression.

“But it’s such a big day for our little girl.” Bucky smirked at you through the mirror. “We just want to be a part of it.”

You turned to Steve. “But you said I would be fine!”

He grinned. “Yes. In High School. Not on the way there.”

“Trust me, if it was my decision I would accompany you all the way to the classroom.”, Bucky said. “And sit in the back and make sure no one comes near you.”, he added.

You gritted your teeth. “Fine.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I can come to your class?”

You just shot him a look, aiming for the intensity of his own kill stare, which only made him chuckle.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You’re all grown up and independent now.”

Grinning, you nodded. “Yes I am, which is why you will let me out one block before school.”

Steve sighed. “Guess we’ll have to let her win that one.”

“But only if you text us hourly.”, Bucky quickly added, before he drove onto the sidewalk and stopped the car.

You unbuckled your seatbelt. “I’ll see what I can do.” Grabbing your bag, you got out of the car.

“Wait,” Bucky rolled down the window. “Give your papa a kiss, will you.” He pouted.

You stepped closer and leaned into the window. Hugging his shoulders you placed a kiss onto his cheek.

“I feel left out..”, Steve mumbled, looking down.

A triumphant smile on his lips, Bucky turned to Steve, taking his face into his hands and kissing him tenderly.

“Gross.”, you muttered under your breath. Not wanting to watch your parents make out, you turned. “Goodbye!” You walked away quickly.

“We’ll pick you up!”, Bucky yelled, before going back to kissing Steve. Great.

Steve moved to start the car again.

“Wait.”, Bucky said, reaching out.

Steve stopped midway and turned to Bucky, leaning against the steering wheel.

Bucky had a pleading, innocent look on his face. He smiled softly and cleared his throat. “Maybe we could…”

“No.”

Bucky pouted. “But-”

“Bucky no, we are not going to stay here and stalk our daughter!” Steve glared at him.

“It wouldn’t be stalking!”, he tried. “What if she needs us? We have to within reach!”

Steve leaned back into his seat. Bucky had always been able to convince him so easily. And it wouldn’t do any harm if they just stayed here. You wouldn’t even notice.

You gave a deep breath and walked to the big steps of Midtown High. Of course you were nervous after being homeschooled your whole life. Kids were rushing inside.

You figured you would hurry because you needed time to find your locker. You took the slip of paper from your pocket and read.

Barnes-Rogers, Y/N Locker: Locker 427

Five hours later:

This had been a truly stupid idea. Bucky admitted that himself. Not to Steve though. No, he would never.

“Rock, paper, scissors.” Steve looked down at their hands. “Damn it! I lost again!”

Bucky chuckled. “I spy with my little- Y/N!” He pointed outside the window. “Who is that guy?!”

Steve’s gaze shot to where Bucky was pointing. “It’s the spideyboy!”, he exclaimed.

Bucky threw open the car door. “I’m going to kill that-”

Steve grapped his arm. “Don’t make a scene. You’ll just embarass her!”

Bucky swallowed hard. “You are right. I will wait until he is somewhere less public.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Steve rolled his eyes.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #fluff #marvel #imagine #writing collab #collab #mymarvelobsessions #dad!bucky #dad!steve #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky #dad!stucky #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #jules writes

62 notes · View notes

existentialkendall-blog · 7 years

Text

Nostalgia Is a Drug

Pairing: Kickthestickz Wordcount: 1.4k Rating: G. A lil bit of angst.

Summary: The Fictional Aftermath of ‘’Type number 1 into the chat if you want me and PJ to have some kind of sexy collab’’

A/N: Feedback is hugely appreciated. I know whether or not to write another fic, or whether I have typo-ed. THANKS and enjoy :)

Crabstickz. Internet sensation, comedic genius, King of impressions. Chris Kendall drops off the grid again after promising a spectacular return.

Several phrases stand out in the online article.

Unreliable creator, disappointed fans, dying fandom, fantastic foursome. Chris closes the laptop and falls back onto the bed, staring up at the sloped attic ceiling. His phone vibrates in his front pocket and he pulls it out reluctantly, blinking for several seconds at the black and white screen before the message registers.

Stay over Friday

Chris ignores his initial response which involves sexual innuendo and the word ‘coming’. He mentally checks his schedule for this weekend. What a surprise, nothing planned.

You were serious about the collab?

PJ replies almost instantly.

Dead serious. Deadly like a venom snake Or not, we could just hang if you want, watch a couple movies

They haven’t ‘just hung out’ in forever. Even during filming Oscar’s Hotel they’d been under tight time restrictions and always surrounded by other people, never ‘just them’.

I’m not watching the good, bad and ugly again

It’s a CLASSIC

Westerns are not classics. They make my act-y senses tingle in a bad way

You loved it!

He loved the company. 2011 in PJ’s Uni room, buried under the duvet with his monstrous weighty book of film on their laps. PJ picking out the film immediately, eyes wide, convincing Chris that it’s not an average western film, it’s full of awesome one liners and cool characters. Chris giving in because the smile PJ gave him, curved wide and full of light, was worth suffering through a 3 hour film to see. When PJ quoted lines along with the actors Chris saw how much it meant to him. It was his 'The Matrix’.

You’d have it played at your funeral if you could

You’re so morbid

It’d be after the drawing planets masterclass and before cardboard for beginners

I’ll get it written into my will So, Friday?

Of course

One conversation has him smiling into his laptop, window open for train times from Harrogate to Brighton. He books the ticket and feels the first twist of anxiety in his gut.

Friday arrives slower then he thought it would. Anticipation and nerves had swallowed every waking moment. Despite looking forward to it, the implications of seeing PJ confused him. They haven’t collaborated officially for 2 years. They haven’t talked properly for 3.

The train pulls into the station late in the afternoon. His six hour journey seemed more like ten. Unlike all other times, PJ is waiting outside leaning against the metal railings, orange rimmed sunglasses on.

Chris can’t help but grin at his old friend.

Midnight. Every important conversation they have is at midnight, and then it turns into impressions and laughter and dreams about the future. Chris pushes his boot into the heap of pebbles that cover all beaches in Brighton and stares at the moon.

“It’s not where I thought I’d be by now,” the alcohol burns his throat going down and he hands the bottle of vodka to PJ. He takes it reluctantly, finger brushing Chris’ hand accidentally as he does.

“I know that. I think the whole internet knows that.”

“Yeah,” Chris laughs humourlessly, “Because the only videos I make now involve me complaining.”

PJ falls silent. He looks out at the endless undulating waves, thinks of the different frames and shots he could get with this view. He wishes he could find the right thing to say as easily.

“This isn’t what you had in mind when you invited me down is it,” Chris asks, rhetorical.

He answers anyway, “I wanted to see if you were okay-” Chris is laughing again before he finishes his sentence. He hates that question, that sentence. Are you okay? I want you to be okay. For once, if he answered 'I’m not okay’ would the world implode or would it shut the voices up for good?

“Fucks sake. Fine. I wanted to see you Chris. Spend time with you,” After meeting at the station PJ had taken him to a pizza place for dinner. They’d made small talk about movies and upcoming projects. For PJ there was stress and work on the horizon. For Chris there was unemployment and fake bravado.

From there they’d entered a corner shop and picked out a bottle, Chris explaining it with 'to talk’. Liquid courage: liquid honesty. PJ had led the way to a section of the beach that was out of the view of the brightly coloured tourist beach huts, and more towards the wind breakers.

“How sweet,” Chris mutters, digging one hand into the small stones and raising it in a handful, before dropping them to their original place.

“Yeah well,” PJ takes a long gulp and they sit in silence. He didn’t have any premonitions of what this weekend would be. Even though they’ve moved forward with different jobs and experiences, his mind still drifts to the simplicity of their earlier relationship.

“Maybe I wanted to be Jim Carrey so much that I became him.”

“You don’t have depression.”

All comedians have depression. Chris had told him that one after their 8 hour flight from L.A to London. Wrapped in a thick curtain of lethargy and jet lag, PJ had asked him to explain his theory. Using muted gestures and a range of slurred words, he’d said that comedians become comedians because they’re depressed, and they want to make people laugh so other people don’t feel as miserable as they do. Examples included Robin Williams, Jim Carrey, Stephen Fry. 'Does Stephen Fry count as a comedian?’ 'Blackadder’ 'Shit yeah’

“What you have are friends that you can talk to about this stuff.”

Chris sounds pained when he says “You know I can’t do that Peej.”

“You’re doing pretty well so far,” Even if the whole internet is concerned that he’s suicidal. Even if PJ has seen the worried tweets and the demands for an explanation.

“Does Sophie know I’m here?” Chris asks, hesitantly. Because since they met at the station he hasn’t seen her at all. Or anyone, actually.

PJ stops himself from sighing. For all the times they’ve danced around the topic, they’ve never been direct with it. But tonight seems different, like along with the alcohol, his misery might force the words out of him.

“Chris…”

“No wait. I’m not a threat, right?” Chris bites the bottom of his lip, tasting alcohol, and leaving a groove in place. He hates feeling insecure, and in front of PJ it’s somehow worse. He knows his tells, his lies, his stupid coping mechanisms. He can see right through him.

“She knows you’re here. Don’t bring her into this.”

“This,” Chris laughs bitterly, “I miss it,” He lets the nostalgic misery and wonderment that he felt since they walked to the beach enter his voice. He misses having someone there to put up with his bullshit, who saw through his act and still stuck around. He misses PJ and what they both had before it faded away.

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Now he isn’t talking about YouTube or his stunted career, he’s talking about them. He doesn’t think he’ll ever move on. What they had wasn’t concrete, they weren’t an exclusive item. Perhaps to PJ they weren’t anything, just dumb kids messing around with a camera and their bodies.

Trading kisses like they were nothing, and tweeting silly jokes like they weren’t personal.

But when he breathes out a repeated, punctuated “I know,” He knows it wasn’t as black and white for PJ. But that’s what it is now.

“You don’t hate me?” For the stupid things I say, for not talking to you, for still making fun of us to my audience because I don’t know how else to process what we were.

“I could never hate you,” 'Not with everything that we used to have’ is how Chris hears it.

They go back to looking at the moon, the ethereal glow lighting their silhouettes.

Chris remembers their first kiss, over eight years ago. PJ had been so nervous, winding his fingers in the sleeve of his hoodie, restlessly messing with his hair. Chris thought of all the nameless men in countless gay bars in Leeds preparing him for this moment. Once they did it, they couldn’t go back because PJ wasn’t a nameless man, he was important. Chris had twined their hands together, stilling PJ’s fidgeting movements.

He’d initiated it, tilted his head to the left and closed his eyes.

When they finally kissed, PJ’s lips were soft.

He leaves the next day with a hangover and a script. While his future is uncertain those memories will always be there. Solid and real. Painful and incomplete.

#kickthestickz #fanfiction #crabstickz #kickthepj #chris kendall #pj liguori #mein #mywriting

41 notes · View notes

samiam-night · 7 years

Text

MariChat May Day5: Captain’s Log (The Baton)

Okay, so I haven’t written fanfiction in a while. A LONG WHILE. And I’ve been sucked into reading Miraculous Fanfic since January, which means I’ve been holding out. So bear with me okay? For @baneismydragon ‘s MariChat May Collab

________________

Marinette steeples her fingers as she leans across her desk, keeping her gaze stolidly forward as to not stare at the object just inches from her elbows. Her fingers rest at eye height causing her to focus on how light plays on her fingers, the translucency of skin and how she can probably play around dyeing fabric to simulate the watercolor-esque beauty of light and life. Alya would look perfect in the dress, Marinette adds, anything to keep her gaze from slipping. Anything to keep her mind from drifting to…

Chat.

Ugh. It’s too late now; Marinette should just embrace it like Tikki said. She feels Tikki’s worried buzz a foot or so away, taking slow, quiet bites from her plate of cookies to give her some peace. It’s not working.

She leans forward, cupping her face in her hands and lets out a muffled groan.

“Can my yo-yo do this?” She breathes, jerking back as she grabs hold of Chat’s baton. In. Out. In. Out. She has to remind herself to keep breathing; otherwise, she’ll panic, then things will spiral out of control and turn into a mess.

“Of course!” Tikki chirps. “But it’s not like you need it. You already keep a diary with a lock of your own creation! You don’t need magic to keep your secrets safe.” She beams proudly at Marinette, and her charge tries to get a sense of relief.

“But why does Chat have one?” The question is damning for Marinette. When she hears the words escape her voice, she feels the sob clawing at her throat, she hates the threat and demand that tightens her vocal chords. The sound of it scares her, so she tries to play it off with a laugh. “I mean, what dumb boy keeps a diary?”

“Not all Chat Noir’s keep a diary, Marinette, but it’s asked that they do.” Tikki sets aside her cookie and floats to Marinette’s side. She sits just on top of the computer, forcing the young hero to lift her gaze.

“Why?” Marinette asks again, gripping the metal too tight, her gaze once again fixed on the glowing paw.

“Because he’s Chat Noir,” Tikki says as if that should explain it all.

“And they only do as they’re told?” Marinette is on her feet, kicking back her chair and glaring at Tikki. “Or because he’s bad luck and – and – and all he can do is ju-just wait for something bad to happen to him?”

Tikki cocks her head to the side, staring at Marinette with a vague curiosity. The hero knows this look; it’s the look Tikki gives when she’s about to throw out some ancient god history-information-whatever that Marinette should have known the moment she put on the earrings.

“Where do you think your luck comes from?” Tikki asks, folding her arms across her lap. It’s a calm question, one that lines itself with a quiet threat as if to say, ‘do not blame this on me.’

“You give it.” Marinette waves one hand. “I have it.” She waves the other. “I don’t know!”

“There’s a reason Chat Noir and Ladybug fight side by side together. They are a balance of creation and destruction, good luck and bad, give and take. You are equals in that sense. You both take what is given. Chat Noir’s gladly give their luck to those who need it more. They willingly take the bad because they believe in their hearts their purpose is to weather the pain. Ladybugs take luck in whatever form it comes in and throw away the bad because they know their luck will help others. Ladybugs are all about helping others.” Tikki soothes as if knowing this is supposed to be a comfort.

“How do I stop it?” Marinette asks. “I don’t want him taking it from me. We’re a team; we have an equal luck of each kind.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Marinette.”

“Then how does it work?” She snaps, throwing her arms out wildly. The baton slips from her hand and clatters to the ground. It pops open, showing a green screen with a list of numbers and time stamps.

“Whoah! What’s this?” Marinette freezes, hearing Chat Noir’s voice comes from the baton now rolling under her chaise. “Star Date–no–Captain's Log…”

She dives for it, skidding on her rug. She hears his recorded laugh and finds the wind knocked out of her. She no longer has the strength to move.

“Okay, okay,” He chuckles some minutes later, causing her breath to hitch. “Log three. And I want to say this super important thing before I forget: My Lady made a pun. Not just any pun. She managed three puns in a single sentence! That’s practically im-paw-sible!” He laughs. “I think she’s warming up to this cat. I can see it meow, Chat Noir and Ladybug getting married under the Eiffel Tower!”

“Sap.” Marinette glares at the floor, curling into herself. She knows, in the beginning, the logs are short. They’re mere seconds and glimpses of moments long forgotten. She knows there are hundreds of entries in his baton and most of them are locked. She suspects those recordings have mentions of his civilian life. She wants to know more about him, but there’s a reason Chat Noir’s locked the file. There’s a reason why her diary is sealed in its box right now.

“Dear Diary,” Chat Noir says with a lovesick sigh. Marinette’s lip twitches into a scowl. She’s listened to this recording half a dozen times. “I’ve teamed up with Marinette again today and let’s just say; she’s a very bad actress. Or good, depending on how you see it.” He laughs. “So get this, she’s been acting. ACTING like she thinks I’m this super grand hero–which by the way, I am, no need to tell you that–and it’s kind of a bummer, really. Sure, I have fans, but the first few times I partnered with Marinette, she seemed to be my fan. Not ‘oh I love Ladybug and Chat Noir but mostly Ladybug!’ It was about me.”

He sighs before forcing out a laugh. “And yeah I know, it sounds narcissistic that I was excited over a fan that liked me more than Ladybug but you have to understand: Marinette doesn’t really talk to me. Not in civilian form. I’m worried she might hate me. In my normal life, she gives away her time and attention like it doesn’t cost her anything like she has all of it and then some to spare. And-“ He laughs again. “I know she doesn’t. She’s always running late for things or caught up in an Akuma attack or doing this or that. But when she’s with someone she’s there, nothing can make her move. And sure she talks about Ladybug but only when her friend Alya forces the issue. She’ll talk about me in a heartbeat.

“So I was glad, thinking she was mine. My-my fan, I mean. It turns out; she’s an Adrien fan. A BIG Adrien fan. I saw the hearts doodled on the posters.” Marinette can imagine his Cheshire grin and wants to smack it off his face. “She has no room for a poor stray like me.” He swoons. “Anyway, she dropped the act the moment I commented on her doodles. Who knew Marinette could be so sassy?” He laughs. “She reminds me a bit of My Lady with that attitude. I kind of like honest Marinette but I might ask her to pretend to be my fan, her swooning needs a bit of work.” He cackles before the recording abruptly moves to the next file.

Heavy breathing. Marinette grips the short fibers of her rug as tight as possible between his fingers. Chat curses from somewhere beneath her chaise. “Ah-“ He hisses. “Crap. No, wait, I shouldn’t curse but damn this stings.” He heaves a heavy breath. “I thought the magic prevents us from getting hurt. I thought this suit was practically bomb proof.” He hisses. Marinette can hear the sound of his baton sticking to rooftops and extending. He curses again. “Dad’s going to kill me. My Lady’s going to kill me. I shouldn’t have tried to do this on my own.” He whimpers.

The baton hits something metal; then there’s a grunt and crash, the tinkling of pottery breaking as Chat groans and hisses. “Ow.” He repeats over and over.

“Who’s there?” Marinette squeezes her eyes tight as she hears herself on the recording. “Chat?” She hesitates. “Chat!” Marinette can remember that night. Chat had been clutching his side “Oh my god, you’re bleeding. I thought the magic–”

“So did I.” Chat wheezed. Marinette remembers that day so many months ago. She pulled him through the trapdoor and resting him on her bed that he got blood all over her sheets, which she later explained as a ‘time of the month’ mishap to her maman. She bandaged him, brought him food and water and let him rest in her bed. She sat at the foot of it for the longest time, just watching over his pained sleeping form.

The following recordings are a series of highs and lows. There are moments he’s never been happier to be Chat Noir and moments he’s injured in some shape or form, crawling to her house.

“I’m not a real doctor you know.” She hears herself grumble in one of the recordings. It’s her only real complaint when he comes needing a field dressing; she can’t give him the proper care he needs.

“You’re purrfect, Princess. I’ll be the Cat’s Meow come morning; I just need a little glue holding me together until then.” Chat hums.

The next recording starts out quiet. Marinette knows it’s been months since his first injury and this one. If she strains her ears, she can hear the chatter of the streets and honking of cars below. She thinks she can hear Chat breathe. “Okay,” He says in a breath followed by the awkward scrambling sound of his baton being moved. There’s an ache in his voice, something painful that draws out the words slowly. “Tonight’s been,” He hesitates, “full of discoveries. I just found out some news from Plagg and something else.

“I guess I’ll start with the easiest bit: I like Marinette.” Marinette’s breath hitches in her throat again; she’s replayed this part too many times to count. “And I still love Ladybug. That’s complicated,” He scoffs, “all of this is complicated. She’s pretty, beautiful even, did I ever tell you that? And it’s not just physical, though that doesn’t hurt, she has a beautiful personality? Soul? She’s just all around beautiful. I’ve been visiting her for a while now: before patrol, after patrol, after attacks, even if I’m not injured. She’s always there, and we can talk about anything, which is a change from both my lives.” He sighs a little dreamily. “You should see her when we talk, her eyes lock onto me, and they don’t look away, and then I can’t look away. Her eyes have, like, a million shades of blue. How’s that possible?” He’s silent for a three count before he whispers, “I don’t know what to do.

“And then there’s what Plagg told me.” Chat groans, his voice slightly muffled, no doubt dragging a hand across his face in a moment Marinette is forced to imagine. “There’s a reason I’ve been getting hurt in the suit. It’s partially Hawkmoth’s fault, part Kwamii ‘nature of the beast,’ part my own stubbornness.

“I take bad luck. I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is. That’s okay; My Lady needs all the luck in the world to save Paris. I’m already pretty lucky outside the suit, a little extra bad luck won’t kill me,” He exhales sharply as a worried tone creeps in,“will it?” Another pause and he seems almost back to normal.

“Anyway, what with Hawkmoth akumatizing people like crazy lately- five in one day, who does that- My Lady’s been needing some extra luck to finish those battles, which means extra bad luck comes my way, which weakens the suit. Plagg said it doesn’t always happen; some Chat Noir’s never have to go through this, it just depends on how much we have to fight.” He sighs, and Marinette can imagine him running a clawed hand through his hair. She curls around herself even tighter because if he were beside her, she’d be hugging him and making stupid promises of never letting go.

“We have to find Hawkmoth,” Chat says, suddenly determined. “If I do that then the bad luck won’t affect as much. I can still be Chat Noir, Ladybug won’t be worried about me, and I can still be around Marinette. Sound like a plan? Great.”

The following logs are more professional, dates, times, and coordinates of places he checked for Hawkmoth’s lair. He mentions briefly if he’s been injured or if he’s visited Marinette.

“I think I know what home feels like.” Chat tells the recorder. He grunts occasionally, and Marinette knows he’s jumping across rooftops. The background noise is minimal, something she’s timed perfectly to the early morning. “I guess I’ve forgotten since my Mom disappeared. Damn, this is a beautiful morning, should I go back and wake her? I really want Marinette to see this.

“It’s, ah, December third, six thirty in the morning and the sunrise is amazing. I’ve, um, just left Marinette’s place,” He laughs awkwardly, and Marinette can just see him reaching to rub the back of his neck out of nervousness. “Last night I got injured more than usual.” His voice is a steadier, which tells her he’s stopped leaping around. “It was awful,” He admits, “And Marinette patched me up, but I wasn’t in any condition to leave so she let me sleep in her bed, like always. This time was different than always. There was the usual stuff; I kept the suit on because Plagg speeds up the healing, I slept on the right side of the bed, against the wall. I wasn’t sleeping, not really. I was in too much pain for that. So Marinette decides to crawl under the covers with me. She tells me stories of her time with Alya or helping her parents in the bakery, petting my head and holding my hand. She reminds me of my mom when I was sick. Mom used to lay in bed with me even though I was coughing up a storm. She was just there for me, like Marinette, and I realize,” He lets out a wistful sigh, “I haven’t felt this good in really long time.”

Another pause before he rushes out, “Also I purred sometime in the middle of that, so that’s…new. I guess it’s going to be a thing now…”

“Oh Kitten,” Marinette manages a smile, lifting her gaze high enough to see the glowing green baton beneath the chaise. She’ll have to move to get it, but she still can’t find the strength.

“December twenty-first,” Chat huffs. “I’ve been at this for hours, and there hasn’t been a single sighting of Ladybug. I’m tailing Juanita Million to see where she goes next, but there’s no point in attacking if Ladybug isn’t here to help fix everything. Hawkmoth needs to work on his puns: Juanita Million-One in a Million, how can he come up with something so terrible? And princess calls my puns bad.” He makes a couple of quiet jumps before continuing.

“Juanita Million is sort of like Reflecta. She’s changing everyone to look like crystal versions of herself. It’s kind of creepy, really. When she first started attacking she went on a super long villain monolog about how the boy she liked thought she was one of the guys? Or he couldn’t really see her? Or that she was really plain? I don’t know; if I'm honest, I was too busy avoiding her rays to pay attention. No way am I getting stuck in heels again.”

Marinette can’t help but giggle at that.

“Long evil rant short, she’s turning people into crystal reflections of her so she can she can shine bright like a diamond? Or that she’ll be the one to stand out? Again, my attention span was not there.”

“Chat!” Marinette hears her voice faintly over the recording. “Chat Noir! Over here!” She remembers waving at Chat from street level as he bounded from rooftop to rooftop. He was confused at first, seeing an akumatized victim, features faceted in crystal actively searching him out rather than hiding.

“Princess!” Chat yelps. “Princess, did you get caught?”

“What kind of dumb question is that, Chat?” Past Marinette grumbles. “I got transformed into glass, and now I’m constantly being blinded by light being reflected off of me.”

“Well, you sure do light up my life.”

“Chaaatt,” She groans. “I can’t decide if that pun is still better than Juanita Million.”

Chat scoffs. “It’s at least a few Kilowatts better.”

“Chat!”

“Yes, Princess?” He asks sweetly, Marinette hears her past self sigh.

“I don’t think Ladybug’s coming anytime soon; I’m worried she got hit in her civilian form-”

“Like you?”

“Like me.” Past Marinette confirms. “I did overhear Juanita saying only true love’s kiss can break the spell. It was something along the lines of, true love will recognize you in whatever form you’re in.”

“Hey, I’m de-lighted to say I recognized you immediately! That watt to count for something!”

“I’m going to be stuck in this form forever!” Past Marinette continues as if she never heard him. “I mean, what if Adrien doesn’t recognize me? And what? I’ll have to ask him? Without stuttering and flailing and going ‘uh-buh-good-Adrien-noon-after!’ It would be a miracle if I could even manage a ‘Kiss me, if you want to live!’ but that sounds way too Terminator and–”

“Can I act as his stand-in?” Chat asks. “I-I mean it’s worth a shot. I recognized you out of all the other victims, that’s worth something, right?”

“I–” She hesitates. “I don’t know. I guess? Just one little kiss?”

“Princess,” Chat laughs, “I’m not some frog claiming to be a prince. I’ll have you know I am a cat of the highest pedigree!”

“You still seem like an alleycat to me.” She huffs.

“Meow-ch, Princess! That hurts! It’s just one kiss. If nothing happens then, no harm done, but when you do change back, the only thing you’ll be blinded by is my stunning beauty.”

“Kitty, don’t get full of yourself. It’s just a kiss. Let’s just get it over with, okay?”

There’s silence for what seems like a lifetime to Marinette. She remembers what happened. Kissing him while he wasn’t under Dark Cupids control was different. He was hesitant and unsure, unable to decide if he wanted a quick kiss as promised or something more. But there was electricity, Marinette felt it too, tingling down to her toes. She expected the world to shift beneath her, she tried to blame it on turning back but her eyes were closed, and she had no way of knowing if that was true. He seemed to be searching for something in her, and she had found herself searching too, holding him tight in an attempt to stay upright as his arms pulled her closer and closer.

“Oh,” Past Marinette is the first to break the kiss and the silence that follows. She is breathless and panting.

“Oh.” Chat Noir agrees. “Hey,” His voice cracks a little. “You’re back to your beautiful old self.” A pause Marinette remembers was filled with well-meaning gazes. “You should-uh-hide. Don’t want you turning back again. Who knows if-um- t-true love’s kiss works-uh- a second time.”

“R-right! I’ll, um, just go hide, then.” Pounding footsteps drifts away from the recorder.

“Crap!” Chat Noir hisses. “It’s still recording! Well, uh, I guess cat’s out of the bag. I kissed Marinette.” A pause, “Now how am I gonna explain that to Ladybug?”

Two entries pass, more of the same boring professionalism of previous entries, though there’s a clear lack of mention of whether or not he visited Marinette’s. She knows he didn’t. She waited up every night waiting for him to knock on her trapdoor.

“It’s um, it’s-it’s,” Chat sounds choked up. “It’s December twenty-fourth. It’s the day my Mom went missing. I don’t really remember how it happened and it really hasn’t been that long. She was just gone Christmas day. They assume she went missing the night before. My father’s already moping in front of her portrait. He’ll be there for hours. He’ll remember me some time after lunch tomorrow. That’s… okay, I think? People all have their own way of coping, and that’s my father’s. I just wish we could; I don’t know, cope together. Instead of losing one parent I feel like I’ve lost both and I know that’s not okay.” He sniffles and then heaves a heavy breath. “I’m, I’m going to go patrol. Hawkmoth attacked with four Akuma's yesterday, and I didn’t have time to visit Marinette. Um, well, who knows what he’s planning. He might akumatize someone again over Christmas, and no one should have a miserable holiday.” He sighs and then mutters, “Even me.”

“Okay,” Chat lets out a hurried whisper as the next recording begins. “Okay, okay, okay. It’s um, damn, what is it again? Oh! It’s Christmas day!” He cheers. “And, I might be skinned alive by my father any minute, and that’s fine. One of my nine lives can handle it.” He laughs. “Still terrified though, that’s why I’m running back now. It’s – ah – early afternoon. I spent the night at Marinette’s place, again. Didn’t mean to, she was on her balcony last night, and she looked so cute, and I wanted to hash out what happened with Juanita Million, and then we talked and talked and oh! She gave me a Christmas present! It’s a green scarf, and it’s so soft and warm. And of course, I forgot to get her a Christmas gift, so I panicked and kissed her. That went on for a while…” He breathes. “We stayed up playing board games after that, let me just say: Princess is a sore loser. Meow-ch. Needless to say, this valiant knight calmed her down with a series of kisses. It was downright heroic of me to do so. Anyway, Mr. Dupain finds us in the morning, both of us having fallen asleep in the middle of a card game and invited me for breakfast. It was paw-some. It was like being part of a family. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng kept feeding me, Marinette goaded her Dad into a round of Ultimate Mecha Strike III. It was great. I lost track of time, and well, here I am, trying to make it back to my room before Father realizes I’m gone. Maybe I can sneak back to Marinette’s later…”

Marinette’s trapdoor creaks open, causing her gaze to drift from the glowing paw to the pale hand flipping the door to the floor. A blonde mop of messy hair slowly comes into view followed by the biggest, dorkiest, and darkest sunglasses she’s ever seen. Maman must have bought those for a costume contest because they’re unmistakably feminine and does not belong to its current wearer.

Chat Noir takes slow steps up the stairs to her room, dressed in Tom’s oversized sweater and pants, he looks like a kitten bundled in blankets. Marinette can see the bruises on his cheeks, the cut on his forehead and the bandages peeking out of his collar. A small little black cat sits on his shoulder, nuzzling into the dark blue sweater.

“January eleventh,” Past Chat’s voice echoes through the room, causing current Chat to stiffen on his way up. “Marinette and I are dating now. I think. I did ask her, but she didn’t really give me a response. All she said is that it’d be hard with me in costume all the time. But then we made out for an hour, so I think we’re okay.” Marinette stares at present Chat, feeling her cheeks warm. “And I think it has to be this way for a while. I don’t think Ladybug will appreciate me revealing my identity to a civilian when we don’t even know each other. Marinette probably would have said yes to my alter ego, but I can’t justify it when she has all those Adrien posters on her wall. She has a crush on a celebrity, a mask of some kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’m the one who’s honest with her, and I’m glad she likes me, the real me.”

Present Chat crawls on his knees, closing the trap door before joining her on the rug, lying far enough away that only their fingers touch.

“And yeah,” He huffs. “The irony is not lost on me. I wear a mask too. When the time comes to know who I am, Marinette will already know. No matter the name behind it, I’m still her kitten.” Past Chat Noir giggles as current Chat beams fondly. “She calls me kitten,” They say together. “Isn’t that cute?”

Marinette stares at Chat, feeling his gaze but unable to see his radiant green eyes behind those bug-eyed sunglasses. They skew to the side as he rests his head on the floor, his messy hair falling in waves with gravity.

“Shit,” Chat’s recorded curse causes Marinette’s eyes to widen. “Four Akumas in one day again. It’s, ah, n-nearly two in the morning. And it’s, it’s pretty bad. Before Hawkmoth was sending quantity over quality but it looks like he’s managed to get both this time around. I-crap-I was hit clear across the city from the last attack.” His teeth chatter between heavy breaths. “Crashed through two bridges before hitting a boat and falling into the Seine. The Seine, in the middle of winter, how cruel could this Akuma get? Anyway, the Ladybug cure came by maybe ten minutes ago? I don’t know, it’s fuzzy. Everything fuzzy. I remember they repaired the bridge and the boat but just skipped right over me. And that’s, I don’t know, whatever? You’d think a Ladybug would help a stray cat.” He coughs and breathes a wet rattling breath. “Oh man that hurts. I don’t know if I can even see straight. I hope Plagg’s driving this suit, I hope he goes to Marinette. I can’t,” He chokes on a breath, Marinette can hear the blatant pain. “I can’t just disappear on her. I can’t.” He whimpers.

Marinette scrambles for the baton and shuts it tight before past Chat can say another word. She knows there are a few more recordings after that, but she can’t bring herself to listen to them just yet. They’re too close to the present, too close to how Chat looks right now. She knows the most recent one is what she stopped yesterday when he collapsed on her rooftop on the verge of death.

Yesterday was awful. She can still remember the blood staining the terrace, much more than she thought a person could hold. Marinette remembers being frantic, that she clumsily dressed most of his wounds. When Chat passed out, Marinette transformed into Ladybug hoping to give him a miracle; and it worked, somehow, though she’s still not sure how. He was still in bad shape, but his wounds were closed enough that she could call for help from her Papa and Maman to bring Chat inside and treat him properly.

She had to explain why Chat was on her rooftop. Why he kept visiting, why he was getting hurt, and why he came to her of all people. Some questions she answered truthfully; the others she left unanswered, her distress the only thing they need to know.

“You’re out of your suit.” Marinette whispers, clutching the baton tightly to her chest. How can the baton still be here when his suit isn’t? Will it disappear the moment he touches it? She doesn’t want it to disappear; she needs to know what happens next, even though she’s afraid to find out.

“Your parents needed me out of the suit to patch up everything. I’ll change back soon,” Chat promises. “I’m just giving Plagg a little breather. He’s been trying to heal me all day.”

“And now I’m tired and starving.” The little black kwamii flops in Chat’s hair, raising a paw to his forehead. “Woe is me; I’ll never fix Ad-Chat Noir like this. There’s no Camembert in the entire building. I’m too weak to move!”

“Plagg!” Chat warns. “The Dupain-Chengs are nice enough to let us stay in their home. You could be more grateful.”

“I’d be more grateful if I had some cheese.” Plagg grumbles.

“You had some Brie. Besides, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng already said she’d get you some Camembert. It takes a bit to get to the store, so stop complaining.”

Marinette can’t help but giggle. Plagg abruptly lifts himself from Chat’s hair and narrows his eyes at her. “Something funny, Pinky?”

“Nothing,” She tries to suppress a giggle. “You’re, um, just like siblings. I, I don’t have any of my own but Alya and the twins, they’re like that all the time. You guys really like each other, huh?”

“This lovesick kitten?” Plagg makes a gagging noise. “It’s a miracle I even let him put on the ring.”

“Hey!” Chat protests.

“You gonna talk about the audio journal or what?” Plagg ignores Chat’s protest and floats away, no doubt to where Tikki’s hiding. He says this on purpose, Marinette thinks, to steal away time with the other Kwami and layer the young heroes in thick tension.

She stares at the obnoxious sunglasses, feeling his firm gaze. She doesn’t know where to start. She wants to tell him her identity, wants to promise she’ll stop turning into Ladybug so he can keep his luck. But that’s a stupid argument waiting to happen, she doesn’t want to give up being Ladybug, and he definitely won’t let her.

Marinette wants to lecture him about being reckless when he knows he’ll get hurt. Then again, Ladybug has forced those moments more than a few times.

She wants to hold him, but he’s hurt.

She wants to kiss him, but his lips are split in a few places.

Marinette wants to tell him she loves him but he might not believe her. Not with the adrenaline high of him almost dying and the Adrien pictures she still hasn’t taken down. Not with Tikki hiding somewhere nearby.

“I’m scared,” Those two words slip past as tears break free. “Chat,” Marinette whispers. “Chat,” She sobs. “How can – and you – please don’t – I mean, just be – ”

Marinette doesn’t know what to say.

“Hey,” He whispers, calm and soothing as ever. “I’m here, see?” He reaches out, his fingers brushing her cheek. Oh. She’s never touched his bare hand before. She expects claws and cool material, not manicured nails and feverish skin. “We’re okay.”

“No, you’re not.” She chokes out thickly, rubbing furiously at her tears.

“I’m a superhero,” He says it like that’s supposed to assure her. “We all come with tragic backstories, it’s a membership fee.” Marinette scoffs.

“I agreed to this life, Princess.” He tells her. “I want to do this.”

“I want you to stay with me.” She sobs.

“I am with you.” Chat promises. “There’s nothing scary in that baton, Marinette. Everything that’s on there is gone. It’s over. I’m here right now.” He shifts, hissing as it aggravates something as he pulls Marinette into his arms. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“It’s plenty to worry about, Chat! Do you even hear yourself?”

“No, I don’t.” He admits quietly. “I make those entries, and that’s that.”

“Chat,” Marinette starts and stops as Chat holds her tight, burying his nose into her neck and purring, his last ditch effort to soothe away any pain they both feel.

“Play it, Princess.” He whispers into her back between purrs. “We’ll get through this together.”

#marichatmay #marichat may #marichat may collab #miraculousladybug #marichat #marinette #ml #fanfiction #chat noir

230 notes · View notes