message i got just now: “you know, greendruidess is still copying you, right? her latest one shot ‘pyromantic ways’ is littered with ‘references’ from the epilogue of fever in, fever out.”
oh, yeah, i know for a fact she is. there’s nothing i can do about it, though. i will say this: any fic that she copies from that came within the last year and a half isn’t going to be nearly as full of heart as anything i’ve ever written, especially fever. because, even with its heavy moments, i was being fun when i wrote that (it’s my “i love you” to alex, after all—that and eclipse). and she’s being deadly serious.
i read that one shot you were talking about, too. she blocked me on there (ao3′s “blocking mechanism” just prevents you from commenting on their fics, it doesn’t block them out all the way, as i very quickly found out—not that i would comment on it, anyway, she’s not going to listen, and she’s too angry to convince otherwise) but most of the time, i thought about that final chapter, though. sam and alex up on the roof of the gallery and he confesses everything to her and it gets passionate real quick… in fact, there was one moment at the very beginning, and i’ll quote it just to show you what i’m talking about:
The day began like so many others... him winding himself around her, groping her, needing her...not that she ever minded. On the contrary, she was quite a willing participant. He sank himself into her and she came alive beneath his weight before the words that left her shook and unsettled came.
"I love coming home to you...waking up to you...just having you..." He breathed into her perspired skin, "So much better than when all I worried about was chasing tail..."
Sometimes three or four a night...or so she had heard.
She licked her lips as her seafoam eyes met his jade. A question she had long wanted to ask formed on her lips, "The night we met...was that what you were trying to do? Chase my tail?"
He smirked down at her, oblivious to the can of worms that the weight of his words were about to open, "If you want me to be honest...yes. I wanted you the first moment I saw you. I had to have you-"
And then came the argument. Words hurled at each other like balls of fire from catapults.
"Why? Fuck, Lizzy! Why does it fucking matter how it started?!"
"Because it's the entire foundation of our relationship, Peter!" Lizzy snapped back at him as she yanked her sweater over her head and bra, both frantically dressing like their lives somehow depended on it. Next came her panties and jeans before she sat to pull her socks and boots on.
"Yes, I wanted to fuck you, I'd be lying if I said I didn't! What do you want from me, Lizzy?"
"Maybe you should've," Lizzy spat with a roll of her eyes. "Just fucked me like a groupie and let that be the end of it."
"Maybe we'd both be better off," Peter snapped back […]
and here’s the moment from fever (the time stamp on this part is july 20–if you don’t believe me, just go to ao3 and look at it, plus the type o tag to see hers)
Sam glanced down at his protruding belly, pressed up against the edge of the railing like the belly of a teddy bear. He looked so soft, as soft as she had ever seen him before. Time had been kind to him, even when it didn’t seem like that.
He had been soft and vulnerable to her before, but never like this.
She sighed through her nose and turned her head the other way.
The Twin Towers had fallen and, in their place stood the brand-new chic skyscraper. A pair of shadows fused into one. Two into one.
She returned to him again.
The words ran through her mind over and over and over again like a broken record.
She could feel them, and she always said them in silence.
But she had no reason to now. Not when she had already stoked the coals for him.
“I—love you,” she sputtered.
Those three words sliced right through the noise of the city off in the distance, and more so through the sleepy silence of Hell’s Kitchen.
Alex widened his eyes at her but he never said anything.
“I love you,” she whispered to him, and she moved in closer to his body. He turned a bit as she rested a hand on his shoulder, and then she moved it down to his chest to feel his heart. “I love you and—god damn it, there is no one else who will love you the way I have.”
He parted his lips at that, but no sound emerged from his mouth.
“No one will ever love you the way I love you,” she said it right to him, right into those deep eyes that have stared back at her since that summer day in 1985 like the open ocean. “No one will ever love you the way I have loved you.”
His bottom lip trembled at that. Sam could hardly breathe as the floodgates opened up once more, and for real this time. And this time, the pain had subsided enough to where she could stand up on her toes and give him the sweetest kiss, right on those little cherry lips.
“I love you,” she whispered right into those parted lips. “I love you more than anything ever.”
She kissed him again. The feeling within her was worth more than a thousand marriage licenses combined. All of them in the world fused together couldn’t even begin to sum up the feeling within her. She held back a bit as he closed his eyes and treated her to a low whistle.
“You know—I love you, too,” he whispered back to her; he opened his eyes and his face was as soft and placid as ever, perhaps more so than in her memory. She had never seen him so soft and sweet before. “I love you—more than anything, actually. You’re my best friend. You have been with me for years. You’ve been with me since the beginning. All this time, I’ve been looking for someone else next to me—when she was right there by my side all along. I have loved you forever, it feels like.”
“When you say ‘forever’, how long are we saying?”
He shifted his weight again and he glanced down at the tiles. Sam leaned into his face again, curious.
“Alex? How long are we saying?”
He nibbled on his bottom lip and then he raised his gaze again.
“Since the moment I saw you,” he told her. “The very first moment I saw you.”
“When—all those years ago when we first met and you were a teenage boy?”
He nodded his head; in the afternoon sunlight, she could see tears in his eyes.
“I was in love with you the moment I saw you,” he whispered to her. “No one will ever love you the way I have loved you.”
“Thirty years—” she wept, and she caressed his shoulders. “Thirty years! You have loved me for thirty years! That really is forever.”
understand, i have no idea what the hell is happening in whatsername’s one shot (and i felt dirty reading it, too) but i was reminded of that moment, though. hell, that whole chapter.
i don’t know where the hell she keeps trying to get off, either, because that part of fever was meant to be sweet and a little nerve-racking and lowkey the whole point of the fic, and that one shot took the sweetness and torched it for no reason other than to be petty. it’s like she sat down with my fic open and then paraphrased the scene and injected her own vomit into it—which is something i’ve imagined her doing on more than one occasion—probably because it’s not ~raunchy~ enough or some bullshit. it’s not supposed to be, it was supposed to be incredibly tender and sensual because that’s what slow burn is, i should not have to explain that to you.
(the same messenger showed me some of her recent comments on another fic over on wattpad—hats off, friend, i’ll take the bullets for you for this—and i realize the way she comments remind of that person who sits behind you in the theater and yacks the whole entire movie. like… heaven forbid anyone else enjoys the fic, you’ve got to go on and on and have to call a character that you don’t like names like “twit” and “bozo”, and be worse than me on my worst day? this is the woman trying to destroy me, you guys. i don’t understand how anyone takes it seriously, especially now.)
1 note
·
View note