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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Hello! I saw a post that said your prompts are open, but if they’re not yet, please don’t worry about this. Anyway, if you’re interested, please take this ‘Wen Ruohan appoints Lan Wangji his next heir with being 1) impressed by him, or 2) bested by him’ Lan Wangji is less than thrilled about this

Modern AU

“I hate this,” Wei Wuxian grumbled. “This is so dumb.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to enjoy being kidnapped,” Jiang Cheng said, his arms crossed over his chest. He was scowling. He hadn’t stopped scowling. Nobody blamed him one bit. “It’s not like it’s something that gets advertised in travel brochures or anything.”

“Listen, if it was like in the movies, it’d be one thing,” Wei Wuxian argued back. Lan Wangji suspected he was just arguing in order to hear himself speak, but since Lan Wangji also enjoyed hearing him speak, he didn’t mind. “Getting snatched into a van! Taken to a mysterious secondary location via plane! Villain monologues! Handcuffs! Zipties! Ropes! Chains!”

Lan Wangji wondered if Wei Wuxian had a thing for bondage. He would be okay with that.

Very okay with that.

“Wei Wuxian…” Jiang Cheng started.

“But noooooo, we don’t get jungles or the ‘most dangerous game’ or sexy people in skimpy swimsuits –”

Lan Wangji had a bathing suit. It wasn’t that skimpy, though.

“- we just get kidnapped by a deranged politician who’s decided that the best way to figure out who deserves to be his heir is via a stupid reality show!”

“I think it’s based on the Apprentice,” Nie Huaisang said from where he was sitting. “Possibly the Bachelor? I actually don’t watch that much reality television.”

“You watch the Great British Bake Off like a fiend,” Jiang Cheng pointed out.

“First, Great British Bake Off doesn’t count. Second, if this was a bake-off, your sister would win, instead of not even being here. Is that what you want?”

Both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian shuddered.

“So, we’re all in agreement that the goal is to lose, right?” Wei Wuxian said. “No one actually wants the job of being Wen Ruohan’s heir, right?”

Nods all around.

“Doesn’t he have kids already?” Jin Zixuan wondered.

“Wen Xu and Wen Chao,” Lan Wangji said shortly.

“…yeah, fair, I’d be looking elsewhere too. They’re pretty awful – dumb and dumber. But surely there’s someone else in the family…?”

“I think they’ve been disowned. Anyway, who would want power if it means putting up with Wen Ruohan?”

Nods all around a second time.

“How will this work?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Are there, like – contests?”

There were.

Stupid ones.

Lan Wangji did his utmost best to mess up the archery competition – archery? In this day and age? – but he wasn’t quite willing to turn around and wildly shoot backwards the way Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were doing, if only because the possibility of collateral damage made him shudder. He focused his arrows on a small corner just outside the target.

(Nie Huaisang’s arrows impressively did not reach the target even once. When asked how he had managed to pull that off despite being closely monitored to make sure he was actually trying, he proudly pointed to years of practice in fucking up his brother’s efforts at getting him to train.)

Lan Wangji was also incapable of getting a low score in the calligraphy competition, although Nie Huaisang shared in his misfortune there – being an artist did not necessarily translate to good penmanship, but in Nie Huaisang’s case it did – and naturally no one could quite compare to the atrocity that Wei Wuxian had created.

“It’s still recognizable as words, in my view,” Nie Huaisang declared after several minutes of close study. “So it should be fine to submit…you should really consider taking up abstract art, though. It’s quite nice, from that perspective.”

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said. “I think. Or was that an insult?”

The mathematics segment was even more disastrous for Lan Wangji – his uncle had brought him up with a strict prohibition against lying, including on test answers – and then they’d brought out music…

They didn’t even give Lan Wangji a chance to sabotage his chance, opting to just play a Youtube clip of one of his public performances on the guqin.

He was very, very good at guqin.

At least they’d done the same for Wei Wuxian and his flute – he ended up getting ranked first in music, even above Lan Wangji – but that wasn’t going to be enough to overcome his middle-of-the-road performances in the other subject.

“I think you’re going to win,” Jiang Cheng told Lan Wangji. “I’m very sorry. Seriously, and without sarcasm: I’m very, very sorry.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, but apparently his face managed to convey his misery effectively enough because Wei Wuxian came over and gave him a hug.

Lan Wangji enjoyed the hug, at least.

“Don’t worry,” Nie Huaisang said. He was fanning himself again – where did he even get a fan? Lan Wangji thought all three of the ones he’d seen Nie Huaisang pull out of his pockets had been confiscated, and surely there was a limit to how many “back-ups” a person plausibly needed – and reclining under the shade, having been thoroughly knocked out of the running during the physical portion of the competition. He hadn’t even had the courtesy to be concerned: he was, as always, secure in his uselessness. “We’ve been here for quite a while, haven’t we? Our families will be along soon enough to pick us up, and then we can forget all this.”

“What if they can’t, though?” Jiang Cheng said, wringing his hands. “I mean, we all hate him, he’s awful, yes, but he still has influence and power, for some unknown reason –”

“I still can’t believe there are people who support him. Least of all nearly half the cultivation world!”

“Less than half. Remember, we just counted.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but still. Regardless, don’t worry – it’ll be fine.”

“Surely if our families were going to do something, they’d be here already?” Jin Zixuan asked.

Jiang Cheng pointed at him. “See? Even the peacock is worried!”

“Also, what if Wen Ruohan wants to keep Lan Wangji as his heir even after we’re rescued?” Wei Wuxian wanted to know. He looked worried, which Lan Wangji appreciated. “Listen, my future boyfriend and I are not going to live somewhere named something as classless and pretentious as the, and I quote, ‘Nightless City’, okay? I refuse.”

…future boyfriend?

“The Nightless City is a perfectly decent name,” Nie Huaisang said. “For a Bond villain. Which I’m not convinced Wen Ruohan isn’t.”

Boyfriend? As in – romantic partner boyfriend?

“A Bond villain wouldn’t be this stupid,” Jiang Cheng argued.

Wei Ying’s future boyfriend?

“I dunno,” Wei Wuxian said. “There were some real stinkers, especially in the 70s…”

Did he mean Lan Wangji?

“Can we get back on subject?” Jin Zixuan wanted to know. “Lan Wangji is on the verge of being selected to be Wen Ruohan’s heir, and I’m not sure that process doesn’t involve brainwashing at some point.”

Wait, why was it future boyfriend? Couldn’t they be boyfriends now?

“I would fight them first,” Wei Wuxian declared. “All of them. Immediately!”

“Or we could escape. I know the guards took our cell phones, but I pickpocketed Wen Zhuliu’s and the GPS says we’re actually just at a warehouse outside the city.”

“We’d need a distraction, though…”

“How about we release the giant turtle?”

“Wait, that thing in the moat is a turtle? I thought it was a snake.”

“I don’t know why you expect me to know anything about amphibians.”

“It’s not – they’re not even remotely – a snake has no legs! What is wrong with you people?!”

“Unrelated, but has anyone noticed that none of the girls got brought in? Isn’t that sexist?”

“Like Wen Ruohan being sexist is a surprise –”

“I still think we need to do something before he tries to adopt Lan Wangji –”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Lan Wangji asked Wei Wuxian, who blinked at him, and then beamed. “Or maybe make out in the corner while everyone’s arguing?”

That seemed like something they’d both enjoy.

It was, too, right up until someone did unleash the giant turtle, at which point it was mostly screaming and splashing and all of their families coming to their rescue at just the right time.

But Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were dating now, so overall, a good experience.

Well, mostly. Wen Ruohan sent him countless letters for the next two months asking him to consider coming back for an internship (to be paid in "experience" and "exposure", of course).

Lan Wangji burned them all.

#mdzs #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #jin zixuan #lan wangji's hormones #they get a special mention as a character #my fic #my fics #staringatstarsblog

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moonstruckbucky · 4 years

Text

The Recruit (7/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings for Chapter: Nothin’ but fluff and soft, squishy Bucky. A bit of amgry Steve.

Notes: So... hi? It’s been a few months since the last update. I needed to step away for a while. Things were getting a little too heated here and it was really affecting how I felt about writing. And I hated that, quite frankly. I hated that I allowed people’s attitudes to get to me so bad it tainted one of the loves in my life. So. To the negative energy around here? Here’s a big middle finger. I’m not done yet. Clean up your act, and remember that all of us providing free content are fucking people. Y’all are getting a new, less bullshit-tolerant version of me. Smarten up.

Also, enjoy! x

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

When the quinjet touches down, you’re swept into the conference room to debrief the mission’s success. Sam, again, lets you take the lead in running down the mission, detailing the information hidden on the flash drive you’d managed to retrieve that contained the names of higher-ups within the organization. A quick cross-reference reveals their pasts associated with HYDRA, and Director Hill congratulates you on a job well done.

You can’t help but preen, a warmth in your chest that spreads outward. Your fellow agents grin proudly, offer their congratulations yet again, and Sam smirks like the proud mentor he is in the corner of the room, still adorning his wingsuit. Though Hill grants you a small crooked smile, she’s quick to express that your mission report is due by eight the next morning, fully completed and as detailed as possible, before the room is dismissed.

A few of the agents pull you into conversation out in the hall, complimenting you, asking advice. It’s strange - you’re as green, or greener, than some of these other agents, and yet they’re flocking to you. You thank them for their praises but ultimately brush them off - you’re sure any one of them would have been able to perform the job as well as you had.

It takes some effort to get away, your desire to get to Bucky, to see and talk to him, overwhelming you. Despite being in desperate need of a shower, you decide to forego it and head to the elevator. You scrape your nails through your hair, tousle it, and smooth it down, adjust your uniform. There’s a nick in the left sleeve from a wayward knife blade, and your boot is untied. Sweat caked to your hair and exhaustion in your eyes, but you’re determined.

Bucky’s floor is empty, his door closed. Soft music plays from behind the wood, and you rap your knuckles three times. It takes a moment, but the music stops, and you can hear Bucky’s footsteps scuffing across the carpet as he nears the door.

The surprise is clear on his face when he takes you in, and it’s quickly shrouded by worry as those eyes of his, so bright and blue, rake over your form. He tugs you into his room, your feet getting tangled together, and you nearly get acquainted with his floor.

“Bucky!” you squeak, and then his hands are...everywhere. Running over your arms and legs, pressing for bruises or breaks or fractures, and while your face heats up under his scrutiny, you still manage to get a grip on his hands.

He stills, eyebrows still pinched in worry, a doubtful frown creasing his forehead.

“I’m okay,” you tell him softly, offer a smile that helps to drive the point home. “Mission was a success, no injuries, we’re all fine.”

You feel hot under his eyes as he gazes at you, hard and unwavering, until whatever he sees is enough to convince him. He nods sagely and takes a step back, taking his warmth with him. If he notices the slight shudder of your shoulders, he says nothing.

“I, um, I actually wanted to talk to you...about this morning.”

At that, Bucky withdraws a little. Crosses his arms over his broad chest and paints on a steely facade of indifference. It makes your stomach drop, but you plough on.

“I’m sorry I ran.” Even a highly-trained former assassin can’t hide the fact he’s taken aback by your statement, and it gives you the momentum to continue. “I got into my head and I...I panicked. I thought I was taking advantage—” you ignore his snort— “and that it would look like I was trying to...to sleep my way up the ranks. And so I ran. But I had some time to think and I owe you that apology. If I embarrassed you, or humiliated you, or made you think I was rejecting you… I’m sorry.”

As you’d spoken, Bucky had taken some steps forward, a teasing smirk curling his mouth. His chest inches from yours, he leers down at you, and it takes a strong willpower not to lean into him. He lowers his head until his mouth is just centimeters from yours, his warm breath brushing over your cheeks and his eyes keeping yours locked in their trap.

A cornered animal, but running is the last thing you want when he’s looking at you like this.

“You really think you could take advantage of a super-soldier?” comes his lilting, velvet voice. It washes over you like a blanket, raising gooseflesh beneath your uniform and yet hiking the temperature up a thousand degrees. Something low in your belly curls, squeezes, makes your blood race.

You tilt your face, let your lips brush over his as you speak, “I think I can be very persuasive.”

A slight upward curl of his smirk and then he’s kissing you so deeply you have to tilt your head back. Much like in the gym, everything is Bucky. His mouth is soft but unyielding against yours, so fluid it feels like a dance you’ve done a thousand times. Sighing against his mouth, you sink into him, and he hums in reply.

His body is hard and hot where he pulls you in, his flesh hand scorching your skin even through your catsuit. The gunmetal hand cups your jaw, thumb presses into the bone to coax your mouth open. Your knees buckle at the first glide of his tongue against your bottom lip, and you feel the muscles of his forearm flexing to balance.

Your fingers slide into his hair, kept down and smooth like it’s been freshly washed, curl around the strands and tug just enough to make him tremble and groan low in his chest. His teeth are sharp against your lower lip and you hiss, mewl when he soothes the sting.

When he pulls away, an audible noise between your parting mouths, you’re left breathless. A - mostly - innocent kiss that has you gripping his hair tightly just to remain upright. Chest heaving, you watch him, dark eyelashes like feathers over his cheeks, and then those eyes flutter open.

“I suppose that means I’m forgiven?” It’s breathier than you intend, but who could blame you after a kiss like that?

Cheekily, he smirks and shrugs. “Haven’t decided yet.”

A narrowing of your eyes and you tug again on his hair. His eyelids flutter again and that muscle ticks in his jaw as he clenches it.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he warns with a tilt of his head and a look that sets your blood on fire.It’s too warm in here, and your mind has poor timing in remembering you’ve got news for him. So you make the painful move of stepping back and lowering your hands to his chest.

“I spoke with the Captain,” you murmur, glancing away and letting your mind drift to earlier that morning.

Bucky’s eyebrows rise, and he walks backwards with you until the two of you can drop onto the couch. He pulls your legs across his lap, a move that’s so casual yet intimate it takes you a minute to recover.

“What happened?”

“He was waiting outside my room. And he apologized. For how he’s been treating me, that it wasn’t fair and he’d understand if I couldn’t forgive him.”

You groan a little under your breath as Bucky’s hands work over your legs, fingertips digging deep despite the material of the uniform. You catch the look on his face.

“You look surprised.”

“I am,” he admits. And then: “He clammed up pretty fast when I asked him about why he was being such a stubborn prick to you. I’m glad to hear he smartened up.”

“You talked about me?” The thought of the rigid Captain and Bucky discussing you puts a weird feeling in your belly - one you’re not sure is good or bad.

“We did. After he called you out in the gym. We were on a mission together and I tried to get some information out of him, but he wouldn’t say a word except to tell me to shut it. What did you tell him?”

You sigh through your nose, wince when Bucky digs into a tender spot on your calf. It’s almost jarring out at ease you feel with him. “Told him it’d take some time. I’d be civil, but that he shouldn’t count on us being friendly any time soon.”

He snorts. “Bet that sat just peachy with him.”

“He was actually quite accepting of it. I think he knew he didn’t really have any room to argue.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully, and a silence ensues for a little while. He’s stopped his massage of your legs, though he still keeps contact, both palms warm through the tac suit.

In the midst of the silence, a thought occurs to you, and you mumble, “He said I was a good agent. One of the best he’s seen.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise again - it isn’t often Steve dishes out compliments of that caliber. He watches your expression carefully; sees that you’re zoning out a little bit, mind someplace else, but not too far.

“He’s not wrong,” he adds gently, pulling you back to the present. You turn your eyes to him, slightly awed and speechless. He nods, as if to reaffirm his opinion. “You are a good agent. You’re smart and quick, and you bust your ass here. You’re strong, and you don’t take shit, even from Steve - especially from Steve. You’re gonna go far, I’m sure of it. So I can tell you that that compliment? He means it.”

You purse your lips and sink into the couch, slightly uncomfortable with Bucky’s praise. You appreciate it, you do, but between his sincerity and the attention showered upon you by your fellow agents, it’s a lot to shoulder in just a day. Not to mention the mental whiplash courtesy of the Captain’s supposed heartfelt apology.

Bucky seems to notice the war within you, the shadow that’s suddenly passed over your face. With a gentle smile, he tugs you into his lap and stands, carries you easily to his bedroom. He sets you down on your feet, the carpet plush and soft. He reaches for the zipper of your suit, catching your confused leer.

“Relax,” he huffs, “not doin’ anything but getting you comfortable. I can see how tired you are.”

Shoulders drooping, you let him undress you until you’re down to the tank top and spandex shorts you put on beneath the suit. He steps silently to his dresser, a feat that amazes you given his sheer size, pulls open a couple of drawers. He drops some dark, soft clothing into your arms.

“I’ll let ya get changed.” He leaves his room, closes the door behind him, to give you some privacy. The thought makes your heart stutter.

You’re swimming in his clothes, a pair of heavy sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt that instantly surrounds you in his scent. It’s comforting, and you close your eyes and smile as you bury your nose in the collar. You feel awkward, though, standing in the middle of his bedroom. You glance at the bed - are you allowed there? He didn’t explicitly say no and yet…

Before you can worry too deeply, Bucky comes back with a mug clutched in his vibranium hand. The smell of green tea wafts into your nose as he gets closer, and the ceramic is warm when he hands it to you. You breathe deeply before the first sip, and you get a small hint of sweetness.

“Honey?” you question.

“Learned a thing or two since coming off ice. C’mon.”

He tugs once on the baggy sleeve of your shirt and climbs onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard with those long legs out in front of him. He helps you balance carefully, maneuvers you so that you’re tucked up into his lap, mug clutched tight between your hands.

He radiates heat, and a fog settles over you, a sleepy, honey-slow descent into exhaustion. You get halfway through the tea before you begin to doze; his metal fingers clink against the mug when he gently takes it from you, sets it on the nightstand, and shimmies down the bed while keeping you curled up against him.

It’s hours later when you wake. No light streams through the windows; you’ve slept through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. The bed beside you is empty but warm from Bucky’s body heat, so he hasn’t been gone long. Still exhausted, you roll over, hug Bucky’s pillow to your face, and drift off again.

In the kitchen, Bucky swirls a glass of bourbon, leans against the counter. A tray with a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches rests on the counter behind him, a quick dinner for the two of you considering everyone else has turned in for the night. Steve sits across from him at the island, needing a break from endless paperwork and mission organization. He’d found Bucky bent over the counter, putting together the sandwiches.

At Steve’s questioning look, he’d said, “Y/N slept through dinner.”

And something sour curdles deep in his belly at the knowledge you’d slept - full context unknown - with Bucky. Found comfort in his best friend despite knowing he has no right. Not after the way he’s treated you.

“She said you apologized.”

Steve glances up at his friend, nods calmly. “Thought it was extremely overdue, and I didn’t really want her to leave because of me. Sam said she did well today, leading the team.”

“Bet that just ruffles your feathers, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s ready to retort, irritated, until he sees the gleam in Bucky’s eye, the smirk fighting to break through. He quickly deflates with a twitch of a smile.

“No, I’m...I’m happy to hear she��s not letting what I said get to her. I’m happy to hear she’s doing well.” It’s not a lie, but it’s said with a kind of hopeless tone that has Bucky tilting his head.

“When are you gonna tell me what all that was really about?” Bucky questions carefully. Sighing, Steve digs his thumbs into his eyes and shrugs. “Because even I gotta admit that isn’t like you at all. You always give people a chance before you have a bad opinion of them.”

“I don’t have a bad opinion of her…”

Bucky clenches his jaw, squeezes the glass in his hand. “You were on her ass from day one, pushing her and humiliating her when she didn’t meet whatever imaginary standard you’d set for her. She’s a rookie, Steve, she’s learning, and she’s learning fast if you ask me.”

He knows Bucky is right, yet his words paired with that acrid feeling in his stomach makes him scoot back from the island and turn to leave the room. Bucky calls his name, frustration and almost disbelief evident in his tone, but he ignores it.

He knows he’s being petty and stubborn and unreasonable, but he can’t help it. He’s normally not the type to run away from a fight, but how could he tell Bucky his true reason for his behavior? How could he tell his best friend that the girl he’s into reminds him of the very one she replaced? That her determination and confidence sent his heart hammering in his chest the very first day he met her?

….That he’s into the very same woman Bucky is?

Steve scrubs a hand over his face with a grunt as he stomps back to his room. That nauseous feeling still bubbling in his belly, he paces. He needs something to do, something that doesn’t require him to think, where he can shut his brain off. An idea crops up, one he knows is bad, but he can’t seem to stop himself from grabbing a jacket and exiting his room again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #steve x bucky x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x you x bucky #steve x reader x bucky #the recruit

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thatdoctorharvey · 3 years

Note

Hi howdy ho neighborino! I’ve been reading some of your fics and I love them! I was wondering if you could write something where the farmer has married Harvey but Harvey gets jealous of the other bachelors that farmer has high friendship with angst. I saw the flowers fic and I thought it was super cool but it would be cute for things to work out in the end

Okay so for this one, I saw the perfect opportunity to do a little snippet of how my Harvey x Reader book is going to be. It’s not gonna be anything directly from the book but it will give you a pretty good idea as to how everything will be written.

Also, for the sake of Sam can’t pick out a name for his band, I’m going to use the name of my Uncle’s former band (I got his permission, don’t worry). This will be important.

I did kind of incorporate flowers into this as well. Gotta have the flowers prompt with a good ending too, right?

I also apologize. The pacing for this is a bit rushed and there isn’t much Harvey at the beginning but you’ll see why.

This was the last thing you expected. It had been years since you had been to the city. Yet here you were.

“You ready for this (y/n)?” Sam asked you, seeming to be pretty pumped up.

“Always!” You replied, brushing your hair out of your face.

You looked beside you at the equipment. It was just the mics and guitars, the rest being among the other band members. For once, you were nervous. The last time you performed in the city, you had made a fool of yourself. You silently hoped no one remembered as it was the reason you ended your musical career.

Abigail suddenly tapped your shoulder from the seat beside you, leaning into the isle and waiting for you. You quickly snapped out of your little trance and leaned to her, feeling like a teenager back in high school again.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“Are you and Harvey okay? I didn’t see him talk to you when we were loading up and he’s all the way in the back.” She asked you.

You took a quick glance back to the crowd of townsfolk on the bus. Sure enough, there he was, the very back of the bus, by himself. He looked to be bored as he stared out the window.

“I mean, he’s been very meh lately with talking to me, but I’ve also been practicing with you guys a lot for the past couple months to prepare for this.” You looked back at her. “He wasn’t happy when I said I offered to sit with the equipment to make sure it didn’t break on the way there.”

Abigail looked to Harvey and then quickly back to you. “Shit. He saw me looking.”

“So, (y/n), I was thinking, maybe we could perform one of your old songs?” Sam suddenly interrupted.

You and Abigail both looked to him. It didn’t take long to realize that, not just Sam, but Abigail and Sebastian were looking at you now. They had been talking about this for a while and had been practicing when you weren’t around.

“Wh..which one?” You asked, a little nervous.

“We won’t tell you until the end. That’s when we want to perform it!” Sam smiled brightly.

Abigail grabbed your hand. “Pleeeeease! It’s a good one!”

You sat back in your seat and let out a breath. Harvey had only heard you sing a select few times, but to hear one of your old songs with how he’s been acting. It just wasn’t a good idea...But it was just a song, right?

“What the hell, let’s do it.” You suddenly said, looking at your guitar case beside you. “But just one!”

All three of them fist pumped and looked to Pam, who was giving them a dirty look. Luckily, they had arrived at the spot they would be performing so they had a valid excuse to leave.

“Alright you four! Get your stuff and get off the bus!” Pam grumpily said in a semi-joking manner.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” You mumbled to yourself and grabbed as much equipment as possible. Kent and Demetrius helped get everything off the bus and onto the stage. Everyone riding was going to have some fun in the city until the concert, aside from a select few who would stay and help set up. Harvey was not one of them.

“Alright, (y/n), once we get set up, do you mind doing your thing while we check equipment?” Sam asked.

“Sure! I know none of you will sing into the mics to test them so I might as well.” You jokingly replied, taking off your hoodie to show the upper half of your band outfit. It was a bit revealing but nothing super intense. It also hugged your body fairly well. “Let’s get this going so we can get this show on the road!”

All three of your bandmates cheered. This was big for all of you. Sure, you’d had a few decent sized crowds in bars before, but this was a whole new thing. You were about to perform on a stage! A real stage! There weren’t just going to be drunk men and weird girls! There were going to be hundreds of people! Even your husband was going to be there!

...Harvey…

“Hey! Come on, you gotta help me with the mics.” Sam suddenly said, snapping you out of your thoughts. The sky had darkened a bit but not too much. Just enough to notice that time had passed.

“O-oh! Sorry! I got distracted.” You said and walked to your mic. “Just let me know when you have them all on.”

Sam nodded and went to the little booth, turning all the mics on and muting all but yours. “Good to go! Abigail, Sebastian, you know the routine.”

The three of you nodded and began the process. You had done this many times back at home. You had performed some of your more family friendly music during the events through the year, and of course, this meant you had set up the mics before.

So there you were. The middle of Zuzu City. The crowd began to form as your singing began to test the mics. Even though it sounded weird since you had to move from mic to mic, it still sounded good. You didn’t know that your husband was listening though. And the song you were singing was hitting him like a ton of bricks. Memories...Was he nothing but a memory now?

Soon enough, the time came. The crowd stood in front of the stage, the townsfolk among them. You couldn’t seem to spot your husband though, but you knew he was out there. Perhaps the lights were making you unable to see him. They were already affecting your vision.

“Hello everyone!” Sam spoke. “We are from Pelican Town!” He seemed to be oddly confident, something that everyone in town knew wasn’t right, especially for a first big performance like this. “And we are the Block Party Massacre!”

And just like that, everything began. Everyone began to play their instruments and you sang. The crowd cheered and clapped after each song. Once you reached the final song, you nearly cried. Some of the people in the crowd began to sing along. It brought back memories and it truly touched your heart to know that your fans still remembered your songs.

But, like everything else, the concert came to an end. You helped get everything cleaned and loaded up before looking around. At last second, you saw Harvey getting on the bus. Immediately you went to Abigail.

“Hey, you mind sitting with the equipment? I...I think I should sit with Harvey.” You asked her.

“Sure! Just, go easy on him. He looked pretty hurt, especially during the last song.” She replied.

You simply gave a nod and hurried over to the bus. You took a breath before getting on and looking at the seats. Harvey was still in the same place, the very back. You made your way back there, slowly sitting beside him. He jumped a bit, seeming to have been in his own world.

“O-oh. Hi.” He said when he realized who had sat beside him.

You offered a smile. “Hi my love. Did you have fun?”

Harvey just gave you a look. Not one of love nor hate. More like hurt. Out of instinct, you gently grabbed his hand, turning your body to face him.

“Harvey. Look at me.” You said softly. “What’s wrong? You’ve been like this since I started practicing with them.”

The doctor looked at you for a minute and then to your hands. He wanted to say so much but his anxiety ridden mind wouldn’t let him.

“Do you love me?” He suddenly asked after a few short moments.

You offered a soft smile and rested your head on his shoulder. Was that why he was making a big fuss?

“Of course I do! I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t. What made you think I didn’t?”

“You...You just never talked to me and you always got home late and you were so close with Sam a-and Sebastian and Abigail an-”

“Harvey.” You placed a finger on his lips as you looked back up at him. “You are the only one I love. I tried making you breakfast and dinner but you always let it sit out. I tried to talk to you but you always ignored me. I thought you were pushing me away, so I started opening up my schedule to practices. That’s what I’ve been doing the past few months.”

The doctor didn’t know what to say.

“Answer me this; would I ever want to leave you, my comfy pillow and cuddle bug, for Sam?” You poked his belly for emphasis on the pillow part. “You are everything I wanted and more. Hell, I didn’t even know what I really wanted until I met you.”

“But...The song…”

“I wrote that a long time ago. Didn’t you hear? People were singing along. How would they know a song the band wrote if they had never heard it before?” You chuckled a little bit and hugged him.

“I…” Harvey slowly wrapped his arms around you. “I guess that is true.” His grip tightened slightly, but not enough to hurt you. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. It’s fine. We can cuddle when we get home. That always cheers you up.” You said happily. “Just, please communicate with me next time. I don’t want you to be hurt like this. It hurts my heart.”

He kissed the top of your head, looking up when he heard the bus start up. “Yeah...I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

And with that, you two headed home.

BONUS

The fire crackled as you rested on the couch. It was a rather peaceful night, the sky clear and the animals not too loud. Crickets could be heard if you listened closely, but you didn’t want to listen to them. You would rather listen to something else.

“(Y/n), are you certain you’re comfortable?” Harvey asked, a hand rested on your back. The other held a glass of wine that he’d been sipping on. “You don’t look to be.”

“Oh trust me Harvey, I am.” You assured your husband, nuzzling a bit against his belly as your arms slightly tightened their grip around his waist to indicate a hug. “I am always comfortable when I lay on my pillow.”

He blushed and took another sip of his wine before setting the glass on the side table. He was half laying on the couch, you on top of him. On the coffee table in front of you was a vase that contained a small bouquet of flowers. He had made it for you once you two had gotten home as an apology for his behavior. In return, you gave him some of your finest wine that you had planned on selling to make up for everything.

“I love you Harvey. Don’t ever forget it.” You half whispered, looking up at him.

The doctor couldn’t help but smile back, his face still red. “I love you too (y/n).”

“I will never forget it.”

#stardew valley #harvey story #stardew valley harvey #harvey #doctor Harvey #harvey x reader #sdv #sdv harvey

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ayuuria · 3 years

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Yashahime Translation: Animage April 2021 Issue (Part 1)

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

This month’s Animage article has more content than usual and mainly covers the music of Hanyō no Yashahime. That being said, I have decided to split the translation into three parts

Part 1: Interview with Kaoru Wada, Satō Teruo, and Nagura Yasushi

Part 2: Interview with NEWS

Part 3: Interview with Ryokuoushoku Shakai

Wrapped in the Warm Demonic Air of Spring!?

The Yashahimes, who reside in the feudal era, are in the midst of fully enjoying the spring event that is so familiar in the modern era. Surrounding those girls isn’t the nice warm air but rather the presence of a dangerous demon… …?

Spring is here! Towa, Setsuna, Moroha, and Takechiyo are blessing Easter under the bright warm weather. On this day, the three girls who carry the blood of the Dog General have turned into easter bunnies Y Setsuna, Moroha, and Takechiyo who grew up in the feudal era are overflowing with curiosity at the vibrant easter eggs Towa paints.

Well, in the illustration the Yashahimes have a warm air about them but in the main story, the girls are truly in the middle of an upheaval. In episode 21, the relationship between Riku and Kirinmaru which was wrapped in mystery up until now has been revealed. Riku himself states that he was abandoned by Kirinmaru.

In addition, in episode 22, Kirinmaru’s older sister, Zero, appears before the three of them, controls Towa’s body, forcefully breaks the seal placed upon Setsuna, and disappears after doing whatever she pleases. Zero is the creator of the cause that separated child Towa and Setsuna. Also, it seems she has a connection to Rin’s slumber. It appears Riku fondly calls Zero “Elder sister” but to Towa and the others, she is a person they need to keep an eye on.

The three girls continue to be exposed to a harsh fate. When will the girls be able to reunite with their families and live out a peaceful life known as “the flower (prime) of youth”?

Character Bios

Takechiyo A cheeky tanuki (racoon dog) demon child who works at the corpse shop. He gets snacks from the modern era when he cooperates with Towa, which pleases him. He is also aiming for the easter eggs!?

Higurashi Towa In order to save Setsuna who had her dreams and sleep stolen, she searches for the Dream Butterfly. Her explosive power when Setsuna is in a crisis is enough to leave a scar on Kirinmaru.

Setsuna She is always cool and calm but in episode 22, Zero released the seal placed on her demonic blood and Setsuna went out of control. It was resealed by Hisui’s older sister, Kin’u.

Moroha She works hard as a bounty hunter to repay her debt to Shikabaneya Jyuubee. In episode 21, she obtained the head of Tōtetsu of the Four Perils and received her first monetary reward in a while.

Spring Has Arrived in Towa’s Heart!?

In episode 21, Towa an Riku approach each other for the first time in a while. While saying there is no meaning in protecting her, Riku defended Towa from Tōtetsu’s attack and Towa told him “I like you!!” and gave him the silver rainbow pearl. Although it is not to the point of love, there certainly seems to be a special feeling budding between the two.

The Rainbow Pearls Are Zero’s Tears

The true nature of the rainbow pearls that Riku and many other demons seek out: they are the transformed tears Zero spilled onto the Shikon Jewel when she grieved the Dog General’s death. Currently, Riku possesses five of the rainbow pearls: green, purple, blue, orange, and silver. Setsuna and Moroha have the other two remaining pearls. When all seven are gathered, what exactly will happen?

The Grim Comet and Kirin-Sensei

The Grim Comet is a comet that nears the earth once every 500 years, bringing calamity with it. Working together to get rid of the comet were the Dog General and Kirinmaru during the Heian era and Sesshōmaru and Inuyasha during the feudal era. And now the modern era. Watching the Grim Comet approach once again was Towa’s middle school English teacher, Kirin Osamu-sensei. What exactly is his true identity?

Coloring the World with Sound

Director: Satō Teruo Music: Wada Kaoru Sound Director: Nagura Yasushi

To commemorate the release of the soundtrack CD, we circled around composer Wada Kaoru for a round-table discussion. We had him talk about the charm of the background music for “Hanyō no Yashahime”.

The Main Theme is the Yashahime’s “Hereafter”

— How did you create the musical composition for “Hanyō no Yashahime”?

Nagura: First, we gathered information from the finished scenarios and I created an at-a-glance music menu. After having director Satō review it, I handed it to Wada-sensei and we got together for meetings. We had Wada-sensei compose in accordance with that music menu but…

Wada: At that stage, we only had a rough direction of the story and the only finished scenarios that had final manuscripts were episodes 7 and 8. Not only did a lot of characters appear but just from reading the script, it was a constant state of “???” from the beginning like “Why are they separated even though they’re twin sisters?” “Where are the parents?” “Why is Moroha alone?”. It was then that (series composition) Sumisawa (Katsuyuki)-san and I had quite a few secret meetings where we cross-examined the information regarding the characters and story. I used that as a base for composing. While talking with Sumisawa-san, we had thoughts like “Even though it isn’t in the music menu, we probably need a song for this character” and as a result, the number songs increased unintentionally (laughs).

Satō: At first, we placed an order for 45 songs which I think is a lot for a 2 cour work. However, from there you created 1 to 5 times as many songs which I truly thank you for. I’d like to use all of them within the story.

— Wada-san, how do you normally go about composing music?

Wada: I don’t really use a piano and I just worry endlessly and have wild ideas. There are times when I think of ideas while walking. I’ve also come up with many ideas during my daily life like sitting at my desk in the office, taking a bath, or going shopping. If there are times where I can only come up with the motif, then there are also times where I can come up with an entire song in an instant. There are a variety of cases. Fundamentally, the melody I think of doesn’t get left in that spot. I consider anything I forget as something not good.

First, I need a starting point like “Let’s make something in this direction” so until I reach that point, I will rethink things over repeatedly. This time too, I had a hard time settling on the main theme that is “Hanyō no Yashahime”. The main theme expresses the world setting of a work, so I wonder how much to depict. This is why my meeting with Sumisawa-san regarding “Where exactly is this story going?” was necessary (laughs). It’s not like the music is the story’s answer checker but the main theme for “Inuyasha”, “Half-Demon Inuyasha”, is an action-adventure kind of music so to speak. Compared to that, it was a little different this time. What will happen to the three Yashahimes from here on was a major key to the motif, so in that sense, without knowing the story, I couldn’t write anything.

By the way, back then I rewrote “Half-Demon Inuyasha” three times before completing it. It was a completely different song at first and after writing and performing the piece as well as rereading the original comic again, I thought "This doesn’t fit”. Every time I’m creating a song, it’s a repetition of going in one direction or another.

Songs From the “Inuyasha” Era Have Been Reborn as A Next Generation Version

— Please tells us the characteristics of the music for “Hanyō no Yashahime”

Wada: For “Inuyasha”, it was work where the feudal era was the setting so the objective at the beginning was to heavily use traditional Japanese instruments like the biwa, shakuhachi, and flute. Rather than making traditional music like in Noh (play) or kabuki, my aim was to add the traditional Japanese instruments into the orchestra without feeling out of place. It went well in “Inuyasha”, so I continued that with “Hanyō no Yashahime”. As a work, “Hanyō no Yashahime” isn’t necessarily a “sequel to “Inuyasha”” but the music is.

Satō: This is something I also ordered. Afterall, I absolutely wanted the “Inuyasha” atmosphere. Nevertheless, this is a new story, so I wanted it to evolve as well.

Nagura: This time, we are using several musical compositions from the time of “Inuyasha”, but we’ve done new recordings of them. This is because roughly 20 years have passed since the songs for “Inuyasha” were first created. We worried that the “Inuyasha” music as it was back then and the newly recorded music for “Hanyō no Yashahime” wouldn’t take on the same color when mixed together. Thus, we had them newly recorded as a “Hanyō no Yashahime” version.

— In terms of “Hanyō no Yashahime” for example, how is the “Inuyasha” version from back then different from the “Hanyō no Yashahime” version?

Wada: The biggest difference is the tempo. I have recorded “Half-demon Inuyasha” several times after its completion but the slowest one was the first version. The tempo then was a quarter note = 120 (beats per minute) (annotation: roughly fast paced (allegro). The second hand of the clock is a quarter note = 60 bpm). At first, I looked at the comics and thought “Is this how it should go?” but when watching the anime, I began wanting to match the tempo of the animation and steadily (the music) changed into something action like. At the end, we had risen the bpm to nearly 140. This time, we can’t really use (the music) if it’s too fast so I generally keep it around 130 bpm.

— Director Satō, Sound Director Nagura, please tell us a scene within the main story where you especially felt the charm of Wada-san’s music.

Nagura: In episode 1 and 7, there’s a scene where Setsuna and Moroha rush to Towa who’s being held captive within Ougigayatsu-Hiiragi mansion, but you see, in episode 1, we didn’t use the main theme, “Hanyō no Yashahime”. This is because episode 1 was imaged as building the bridge between "Inuyasha and Kagome’s era” and “the Yashahime’s era”. During that time, based on the circumstances, we had battle type music set in but with the story having progressed in episode 7, we put in “Hanyō no Yashahime” as “Towa and the others’ music”. We were able to set it in a good way where it truly felt “Yashahimes Gather!”

Satō: We would love for people to pay close attention to that scene. “Hanyō no Yashahime” is my absolute favorite song. When I heard this song, I felt “With this, the world setting of “Hanyō no Yashahime” has been expressed” and I once again realized how amazing Wada-sensei was. For the scene in episode 7 where Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha gather, we not only redid the music but also the acting and recording for the three princesses. At a glance, it’s the same scene as episode 1 but I think it would be fun to view and compare them.

The Cheering Party During Composing

“When I was composing these (songs), there was the broadcasting of ““Inuyasha” Best Episode” on Youtube and events like “Inuyasha Café” and the “Inuyasha Anime Tracing Exhibition” were topics of discussion. That kind of hype up for Inuyasha was a like cheering party that encouraged me. I was truly grateful for it.” (Wada)

The Main Instruments of the Three Princesses

“With the various character themes, I employed an instrument that imaged each character. Towa is the flute type instruments (Japanese woodwinds), Setsuna is a koto, and Moroha is the percussion and flute. Also, Moroha’s theme has the inheritance of her mother’s blood in mind, so it’s a transformed version of the song “Overcoming Time Kagome” back from “Inuyasha””. (Wada)

#yashahime #hanyou no yashahime #yashahime: princess half demon #translation

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bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 4 years

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Got7 Reaction: You surprise them at their dorm when they get back from tour

The boys were wrapping up their world tour and set to return to Korea. With all the preparations, rehearsals, and practices they had to do before they left it had been nearly a year since you were able to spend time with all of them. You missed them terrible, and they missed you as well. They would video chat with you every chance they got, even if it was just one of the members and for 5 minutes. They just wanted you to know they haven’t forgotten about you, their best friend. You had been there for them since the beginning. Having been childhood friends with Mark you basically grew up with the members too as they slowly became adopted as their own little family unit, you included. It was like having 7 overprotective brothers. But you weren’t complaining. The past years of your life you had spent with them had been the best. And you made countless precious memories with them.

Which brings you to where you are now. At their dorm, completely organizing a welcome back party on your own. Some of their staff insisted on trying to help you but you politely declined. This was something you wanted to do for them. So since 6 in the morning you had been running around the dorms like crazy. Setting up balloons, streamers, and crafting a giant welcome home sign. You plastered it with green glitter, green paint, and even drew little birds all over the sign. You were as big a fan of theirs as any. You decorated all their bedrooms with streamers and threw balloons all over the room. Some of the clear balloons you also filled with green glitter and bird shaped confetti. You cleaned the dorms from top to bottom, as they had left it an absolutely mess before they left.

You were right in the middle of cooking dinner for them when your phone started ringing. You saw it was a face time from Bambam. You answered it and were greeted with the wonderful sight of your 7 best friends’ smiling faces.

“Y/n!”

“We miss you!”

“We’re so happy to be home!”

A chorus of greetings and happy messages come pouring through the screen all at once as the members are shouting with happiness.

“Hey guys! I missed you all too. I take it your flight landed now?”

“Yes! We just got off the plane but of course Yugyeom insisted we call you right away.” Jinyoung has a teasing smirk on his face but the youngest is having none of it.

“That’s a lie, hyung! You were the one who was whining the whole time about how much you mi-” A hand is promptly slapped over his mouth to quiet his next words, but you already know what he was going to say but decide to play along.

“Ah my goodness! I didn’t think Yugyeom would miss me so much. You don’t have a crush on me do you?” His eyes widen to the size of saucers and vehemently denies this, frantically shaking his head back and forth. “I’m just messing with you. Sorry I couldn’t resist. I just missed you guys so much, you know?”

“Trust me we all missed you just as much if not more!” Jackson yells from the back.

“So y/n. You’re going to meet us at the dorms right? For the perfect welcome home?” Mark looks at you with pleading eyes and you almost back out of the trick you are going to play on them, but you steel your nerves and go along with it anyway.

“Actually I can’t. I’m really sorry everyone.” Before you have a chance to explain they’re all shouting in disappointment into the phone.

“What?!”

“No! What do you mean you can’t make it?”

“It’s been months y/n we miss you don’t do this to us and make us wait even longer.”

“I got called into work. I’m sorry everyone I wish I could come but, you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to see me.”

“But tomorrow the company wants to meet with us to talk about our last show in Korea! We won’t get to see you then either! Please can’t you just call off once?” Youngjae is giving you puppy eyes which you are having trouble saying no to.

“Are you all going to support my ass if I get fired then?”

“Don’t test us y/n, you know we would in a heartbeat.” Jaebeom says this with so much sincerity and the way all the other members instantly agree makes your heart melt. You really do have the best friends in the world.

“Listen I appreciate that. Really I do. But I want to be able to support myself and not use you guys for your money. So we’ll just have to be patient a little bit longer okay? I promise you’ll see me sooner than you think.”

They reluctantly agree.

“Okay. Bye y/n. Have a good day at work! If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask one of us.”

“I’ll be sure to, don’t worry. I love you guys.”

“We love you too! Bye!” The line cuts off and you sigh before a small smile forms on your face. They’re going to be even more excited when they get home and see everything you’ve prepared now that they think they aren’t seeing you at all. You finish up cooking dinner and lay everything out on the table. You set the movies down on the coffee table in the living room lay out the pillows and blankets onto the couches. You know they will be home any minute, so you turn all the lights off and hide behind the couch. You hear the key go into the door knob and your heart races in anticipation.

“This doesn’t feel like a happy welcome home if y/n isn’t here.” That’s Mark’s voice.

“Agreed. Hey something smells really good in here, did the staff cook for us?” Bambam’s voice is the next one you hear. Suddenly the lights are turned on and you hear the member gasp. You stand up from behind the couch and hold your arms out.

“Well it’s a good thing I am actually here then.”

“Y/n!” The maknae line all run over and sweep you up in a bone crushing group hug while the rest of the members slowly make their way over and wait until they’re done fussing over you. When the younger members pull away each of the hyung line gives you a warm hug. Mark being last and you can feel some of his tears dampen your shirt. You give him a pat on his head and rub his head, something that has always comforted him since you both were little. He pulls away and wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater. The members are all walking around the dorms, looking at all the decorations with wonder and pure happiness in their eyes.

“Oh my god you even cooked for us!” Jackson rushes into the dining room and immediately sits down to try a bite of what you made. “Oh this is so good. It’s been way too long since we’ve had a home cooked meal.”

Soon you and all the other members sit around the table. You listen to them share stories from their tour. All of the funny things that happened, all of the amazing performances. But what you probably enjoy the most is seeing the way their eyes light up when they talk about their fans. How much they enjoyed seeing their smiling faces singing along to their songs, how the cheers kept them going when they were homesick. It makes you smile along with them.

“That sounds amazing. I’m happy you all had such a good time. I can’t imagine seeing the world like that. It sounds wonderful.”

“You can though, y/n!”

“What are you talking about Yugyeom?”

Jinyoung sets his chopsticks down and what he says nearly makes you choke on your food.

“You can come with us. On our next tour. We asked the company and they’re fine with it. Of course you’ll have to work and be a part of the staff so fans don’t get suspicious or so rumors don’t spread but.. you can come next time.”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. We wouldn’t joke about something like that.” You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you walk over to Jinyoung’s side of the table. You pull him into a tight hug.

“Ah we’ve had enough of this sappy stuff for one day! Come on now y/n stop it.” But you just hug him tighter. Eventually he gives in and allows you to hug him, and you don’t miss the way he seems to relax. He might pretend like he doesn’t want your affections but you know him better than that by now.

“Thank you all. Seriously this is the best thing I could ever imagine happening!”

“And now we can spend more time with you!” Everyone is excitedly chatting amongst themselves as you move to start cleaning up dinner. Jaebeom grabs your wrist and shakes his head at you to scold you.

“You made all this for us. The least we can do is clean up.”

“Rock paper scissors to see which two are going to be stuck cleaning this mess! The rest of us can watch one of the movies y/n brought.”

Chaos ensues as they play until finally it seems Jackson and Bambam are going to be stuck doing the dishes.

“You cheated!”

“How on earth did we cheat, Jackson? You can’t cheat in rock paper scissors that’s just nonsense.”

“I don’t know how you did it Youngjae, but you did! Why am I always the one that loses and gets stuck doing these punishments?!”

As you listen to them bicker back and forth with one another you can’t help the fond smile that forms on your face. Even though they can be a little chaotic at times. Okay, a lot chaotic. They’re your family as much as you became theirs. And you thank the forces of the universe everyday for allowing fate to bring you all into each other’s lives.

#got7 scenario #got7 reaction #got7 imagine #got7 #jaebeom #mark tuan #jackson wang #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #bambam #kim yugyeom

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mordoriscalling · 3 years

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Life (of) Surprise (3/5)

Jaskier lies to his family about being engaged to Geralt for the second time… and there are way too many surprises involved.

Part 4 of the Singer and the Sailor AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway (again). Warnings: Jaskier and Geralt have a serious argument in this one.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

III - A Surprise Realisation

Geralt never thought he’d get married again, much less to a man. Leave alone a man like Jaskier, who is loud, bright, and charismatic; unlike Geralt in so many aspects that by all means, their relationship shouldn’t work as well as it does.

He’s a divorcee. His previous relationships didn’t last. Rationally, he knows he should’ve been more cautious, yet when Jaskier got down on one knee that April morning, Geralt found himself unable to say no. He was so tired that day, but that wasn’t the reason he said yes. He agreed to marry Jaskier because back then – as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes, blue like the cloudless sky above them – he realised that it seemed right.

Jaskier’s always accepted Geralt the way he is, with all his problems and mistakes. Jaskier is both safety and adventure. He’s trustworthy and unpredictable; a fascinating contradiction that Geralt could see himself exploring for the rest of his life.

Or so he thought.

“Eight months,” Geralt grits out, his emotions balancing at the edge of fury.

Jaskier says nothing, his eyes cast downwards, standing in the middle of the room with the air of a puppy about to be kicked.

“We’ve been engaged for eight fucking months,” Geralt growls, “and you’re only telling me this now?”

“I wanted to come clean,” Jaskier answers weakly. His voice doesn’t waver.

The steadiness of his voice shouldn’t be surprising, though. Jaskier’s a singer. A performer. A very good one. Geralt didn’t have an issue with that before. The only problem with Jaskier that Geralt’s ever truly had it that Jaskier can be extremely inconsiderate at times.

Now, the former and the latter seem to have merged into something that Geralt isn’t sure he can forgive.

“You didn’t think about doing that earlier?” he asks.

It’s New Year’s Eve. They’re in Jaskier’s childhood bedroom, where they’re to sleep for the night. Downstairs, a party is about to begin, with both Jaskier’s and Geralt’s family and closest friends in attendance. Jaskier’s parents, Wanda and Alfred. Rozalia and Silvio, Amelia with Nasir and their daughter. Triss, Essi and Eskel. Aiden and Lambert. Vesemir, Yennefer, Ciri, Dara.

Geralt suspects that everyone is waiting in the dining room already. Yet, this is the moment that Jaskier chose to tell him about the circumstances of their engagement.

“I didn’t have the courage,” Jaskier replies, “I was afraid you’d take it the wrong way.”

“Have the fuck am I supposed to take it any other way?!” Geralt barks, making Jaskier flinch. “You told your family that we’d marry before you asked me to marry you.”

It’s dark outside the tall windows. The only source of light in the room is the chandelier above Jaskier’s head, hanging down from the high ceiling. The lamps cast Jaskier in a warm glow, and to Geralt, it seems as if he saw his fiancé for the first time. There’s a stubborn set to Jaskier’s jaw as he still refuses to look at nowhere but the wooden floor.

“You did that for what?” Geralt demands, “So that you look good in front of your family? Is... us some kind of fucking performance for you? Have you been pretending from the –”

“No,” Jaskier cuts in. His gaze is finally on Geralt, and he appears genuinely aghast at the notion. “The only pretending I’ve ever done is lying to myself that our engagement was for real the whole time! I told everyone that we’d marry because I wished it so badly to be true! I wanted it to happen, so I said something that would force me to make it happen.”

The confession would be heart-warming if not for the last sentence, which makes Geralt’s blood run cold. He walks up to Jaskier slowly, staring him down, trying to see through the (distracting, deceptive) blue of his eyes.

“You would’ve made it happen?” he murmurs, his emotions treading the dangerous line again, “If I’d said no, would you have persisted? Manipulated me, as you did with the spring wedding?”

A broken noise escapes Jaskier’s lips. “That wasn’t my intention! I’m so sorry that I made you feel this way. Please forgive me, I never meant it like that–”

“I’m starting to doubt every word you say,” Geralt interrupts, because now their nearly three years together feel fake.

Jaskier takes a step back, hurt written all over his features. Tears well up in his eyes as he exclaims, “I’m not lying! I’m not lying when I say that you’re the only one that I want to marry.”

Geralt doesn’t want to hear it. He moves to walk away but Jaskier grabs him by the arm. “Dammit Jaskier,” he growls, “don’t–”

“Listen to me,” Jaskier says, insistent.

Geralt tries not to, looks away to distance himself, but Jaskier’s voice is that of a siren – arresting and irresistible, powerful even when hushed.

“I never thought that I’d settle down. I fell in love too easily. One day a woman from the bar would have my heart, and then next it would be a guy at the bus stop. Commitment wasn’t my thing.”

Geralt scowls, about to ask how that information is supposed to help in the current situation, but Jaskier speaks first.

“But then, then I met someone who’s so deeply fascinating that I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s been through so much and yet he’s nothing but kind and considerate. He has so much presence but he rarely uses it to his advantage. He feels so much and yet he shows nothing. He...” Jaskier chuckles, the sound somehow both warm and sad. “He’s honest with me and calls me out on my mistakes, challenging me to be better. Thanks to him, I don’t stop learning. With him, it seems like... like we’re writing a gripping book. A... a story I want to go on and on.”

A story without an ending may not be a happy one, Geralt muses. He says nothing, though, still looking away, and Jaskier speaks up again.

“From the moment I met you, I’ve wanted you to stay, but perhaps–” he cuts himself off, releasing out a shaky sigh. He lets go of Geralt’s arm at least and then utters, “Perhaps I love you too much. Maybe it’s not healthy, after all.”

Pain seeps through every syllable as Jaskier says this. Geralt has to swallow hard because that, that seems so wrong. How can it not be healthy when the only time they truly breathe – truly relax and let go – is as they are around each other?

Geralt stands frozen, listening to Jaskier’s sniffs, and tries to process all that he’s heard. He has to fight his fervent want to believe Jaskier’s loving words. He wishes it to be true, yet the recent revelation’s stained all they’ve been through with the ugly thought that Geralt’s feelings – his love – have just been a fucking box to tick.

The sheer hurt of it settles somewhere deep within him, clawing a hole in his chest, wrenching, pulling all the air out of his lungs. He can’t stand being next to Jaskier anymore and escapes to the bathroom, which is adjacent to the bedroom.

The water is cool as Geralt splashes it all over his face. He tries to take his emotions under control, especially that anger raises within him once more. He’s a moment away from doing some real damage to the furniture.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to calm down. He assumes that enough time passes for Jaskier to decide to go downstairs without him, which is the only wish he has right now. Yet, as he emerges from the bathroom, it (unsurprisingly) turns out that he can't have what he wants – Jaskier sits there, at the edge of the large bed, his face hidden in his hands. As he hears Geralt approach, he raises his head revealing his dishevelled hair and red-rimmed eyes.

He’s a picture of misery and Geralt heart lurches in sympathy, in a ridiculous need to comfort his fiancé, despite his anger.

They stay like that, staring at each other for a few unbearable moments of heavy, choking silence, until Geralt finally breaks it.

“Dinner must’ve started by now,” he says, “We should go.”

A rasped “okay” is all the answer Jaskier gives.

They don’t pretend that everything is all right. Everybody quickly notices the tension between them and the dinner is a painful affair at the beginning. It’s a miracle that everyone’s managed to gather here today, though. The two families seem determined to make the best of it and the initial awkwardness soon passes. Conversations start flowing and after some time, everyone is getting along well enough for the party not to be torturous.

When dinner is finished, Jaskier’s parents invite them to the living room. There, a piano awaits, and Jaskier launches into a short performance that leaves everyone spell-bound, including Geralt, even though it hurts.

It hurts to watch Jaskier’s fingers dance over the keys, knowing the way in which those beautiful hands touch his body. It hurts to see the tempting curve of Jaskier’s neck, knowing how Jaskier always gasps when he kisses it. It hurts to watch Jaskier shine because he believed that he had a part of Jaskier’s light to himself.

And yet. Now, there’s the ugly thought at the back of his head that it wasn’t true. Jaskier did claim it was.

And yet.

The moment the performance ends, Geralt decides to survive by sticking with Silvio. Rozalia’s husband is talkative but what he loves chattering about the most is the cats and dogs he’s fostering with his wife. He shows Geralt pictures and videos, which improves Geralt’s mood slightly.

After Triss and Nasir steal Silvio away, Geralt is left alone, sitting in the corner of the room with his glass of wine. On instinct, his eyes search for his daughter. He finds her talking to Jaskier’s sister and frowns.

He loves Ciri more than life itself but he’s aware that she’s can be a right brat. He’s also familiar with Amelia and Rozalia enough to know that they’re very likely to be charmed by Cirilla’s vicious streak. Jaskier seems to know it too, and he appears genuinely terrified as he watches his sisters chat with Ciri, the three smiling mysteriously.

Then, Yennefer joins them, and Geralt is... apprehensive.

The party goes on. Some people, like his brothers, leave Geralt in peace. Others, such as Jaskier’s parents, insist on speaking to him. He picks his way through the, admittedly polite and pleasant, conversations, until no one wants to talk to him.

All the while, his gaze strays to Jaskier. Geralt watches him joke with Essi and Vesemir, laugh at something Lambert and Eskel are saying, take his niece into his arms and coo at her with Aiden by his side.

As Geralt observes Jaskier hold little Zofia and smile at her lovingly while Aiden makes funny faces at her, he suddenly comes to understand how tightly Jaskier has managed to weave himself in between all the threads that make Geralt’s life. All his family know Jaskier and accept him. Most of them are fond of him, or downright adore him. Geralt’s thoughts and memories of the sea are mingled with Jaskier’s songs. He doesn’t miss being at sea as much as he feared in large part due to Jaskier engaging him in his own life. Jaskier knows him, like a true friend does.

Removing him from the tapestry would leave a jagged hole, and Geralt realises that it’s not something he’d ever want. After all, he doesn’t have a particular place where he belongs. His home is where his loved ones are.

And he loves Jaskier so.

It’s ten minutes to midnight when Jaskier approaches him for the first time since the argument. Geralt still sits on the couch without any company as Jaskier stands before him, clearly putting up a happy face.

“I love the way you just... sit in the corner and brood,” he remarks, his cheerfulness falling flat,

Geralt rolls his eyes, irritated. “I’m here to drink alone,” he grunts.

Jaskier, of course, refuses to take the hint and sits down beside him. Before Geralt can protest it, though, loud giggles catch his attention. He looks at the source of the sound and sees Ciri and Dara laughing at something on their phones (a meme, Geralt assumes). Joy at seeing his daughter’s happiness fill him but then Jaskier’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“If you say that you don’t believe me,” he says, “what must Dara think?”

Geralt looks at him sharply and immediately understands the sadness in his eyes. He’s aware of how much Jaskier wants Dara to know that all he’s done to help the boy – putting his career on hold to care for him, providing for him, going to therapy with him – are driven by genuine willingness to help, not pity or charity.

“Maybe I’m not good at...” Jaskier goes on, a wry smile twisting his lips, “Well. This whole... guardian thing.”

“You are,” Geralt replies.

It is true. Dara agreed to say with Jaskier eight months ago. The boy is still grieving and struggling but Jaskier has been supporting him through it with surprisingly few missteps.

“Thank you,” Jaskier answers, uncharismatically timid.“I... Geralt,” he begins, his tone sombre.

Geralt tenses and waits. His free hand, the one not holding the wine glass, clenches into a fist.

“I’m sorry for withholding the truth from you for so long, I was...” Jaskier swallows. “Stupid. It was wrong of me, and I... I promise it won’t happen again.”

He looks away and considers, even though there isn’t much to wonder about. There’s no coming back from how important Jaskier is to him, for better or for worse. His hurt is far from mended but Geralt nods. Jaskier heaves a sigh and lays his hand atop Geralt clenched fist.

“Will you stay?” Jaskier murmurs.

A memory strikes him – of how Jaskier asked him the same thing almost three years ago as they stood outside this very house.

In the background, the countdown begins. Geralt unclenches his fist and takes Jaskier’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. Jaskier squeezes back and the New Year starts.

***

A/N: the chapter count went up to 5 because I wanted to split ch3 into two smaller parts. Also, you can also read this fic on AO3.

#my fic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #modern au #the Sailor and the Singer AU

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witchyspell · 4 years

Text

Fear of Losing You

pairing: Jimmy Darling x gender neutral!reader

summary/request: Jimmy darling x male reader: dandy and reader both meet at a show and hit it off...spending more time with dandy ment less with jimmy...jimmy being jealous decides to get your attention 💖 requested by @kingreidx

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: swearing, alcohol abuse (very drunk jimmy), angst and fluff ofc, dandy’s god complex

A/N: i’m sorry this took so long! i’ve just been overwhelmed lately and suffering from, you guessed it, writer’s block. this made me want to watch freak show for the third time, i love that season so much...anyway, i hope you enjoy! :)

IMPORTANT NOTE: this request originally asked for a male!reader’s perspective. however, more than half way through, i realized i hadn’t mentioned any specific pronouns to designate the reader and that there were no details that implied their gender. i decided to change it to a gender neutral perspective so anyone (including a male reader) could read it. i hope you understand!

[full credit to the owner of this gif!]

Eight months ago, you met the most caring and thoughtful person, Jimmy Darling. Never in your entire life had you ever encountered such a selfless and considerate soul. His laughter was unbelievably contagious and his charm so strong. His sole presence lit up any room instantly.

You first saw him when you attended Fräulein Elsa’s Cabinet of Curiosities or in other words, the town’s freak show. The idea of spending actual money to watch people perform and be treated like circus animals made you sick. They were still human no matter how they looked or what deformities they possessed, but your parents thought otherwise. They insisted it would be amusing and a ‘nice outing’.

You went anyway, the idea of defying your parents way too risky. Little did you know, that that evening, you’d meet the person who would soon become the light of your life.

From the moment he stepped on stage, you were immediately captivated. His chestnut curls drooped down over his forehead. And his eyes, despite being dark, shone under the stage lights. You didn’t notice anything unusual about him until he removed his hands from behind his back.

“These pinchers dont hold me back,” he exclaimed cheerfully. “Watch me juggle!”

The ‘pinchers’ in question resembled exactly that. They were quite large and his index and middle finger fused together as well as his ring and little finger.

The crowd oohed and aahed but you remained mostly unfazed. You studied his face a little longer, sensing something was off. Behind that joyful, cheery facade he looked unhappy, almost embarrassed.

His gaze caught yours as he wrapped up his performance, offering a smile to the audience (which you now knew wasn’t genuine) and showing off his abnormal hands one last time. Later that night, you introduced yourself to Jimmy Darling and entered his atypical, curious world.

✾ ✾ ✾

Sitting on one of the squeaky wooden chairs, you watched and absentmindedly listened as Bette and Dot practiced their singing for the upcoming show. Rehearsals had eventually become tedious and repetitive, since you never participated in the performances.

Your job was to sell tickets, and sell tickets you did. You also welcomed the spectators as they entered the show’s grounds, plastering on the biggest grin you could possibly muster.

You loved spending time and bonding with everyone but it was getting old. So old, you’d sometimes miss the show and wait in the makeup tent until you had to escort the audience out.

A quick peck to your cheek pulled you out of your thoughts and you blinked, your eyes readjusting to the intense show lights. You looked up and saw Jimmy watching you intently, waiting for you to react to his presence. He looked concerned when you didn’t respond and sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around your frame.

“Everythin’ alright, sweetheart?” Jimmy asked, cocking his head to the side.

You didn’t want to worry him so you simply nodded. What would you even tell him? That you were unhappy? That was false. You just craved something exciting...new.

“I’m fine, Jimmy. Really, I was just lost in thought that’s all,” you reassured him.

“Will you come to the show tonight, then?” Jimmy asked, pouting at you. He knew you couldn’t possibly refuse him, especially when he made that adorable face. You paused, feigning considering his offer before assuring him you were only teasing. “If you insist.”

He opened his mouth, most likely to make a witty comment, but you shut him up. You brushed your thumb over his cheek and leaned in, ever so softly kissing his pouty lips. He pulled you in even closer and you rested your head on his shoulder, watching the lights flicker as Dot’s voice echoed through the tent’s walls.

✾ ✾ ✾

Great amounts of people were rapidly flooding in, creating a large crowd. By the looks of it, tonight was going to be very busy and you were certainly not complaining. Lots of people meant lots of tips, which meant lots of publicity and propaganda for the show.

After gathering everyone and selling an impressive amount of tickets, it was nearly show time. You rushed to the makeup tent and made sure everyone was ready to perform, the perfectionist side of you definitely spilling out a little.

Elsa was the opening act, her voice never ceasing to amaze you. As you entered the tent, you spotted Jimmy pacing back in forth, seemingly nervous.

You walked over to him. “Jimmy, love...Is everything okay?” Concern laced your voice and you furrowed your eyebrows. He wasn’t a stranger to stage fright, on the contrary, it was a regular occurrence for him but it was rarely that bad.

“There’s- God, there’s so many people out there, Y/N! I don’t know if I can do it,” he shakily spoke, looking pale as a ghost.

“You’ve done this countless times, Jimmy! It’s just a few more people than usual, you can do it,” you soothed, your words only mildly reassuring him.

He shook his head and closed his eyes, the anxiety becoming overbearing. “No, it’s not the same-“

“I know it isn’t but there is absolutely nothing to worry about, okay? You always do great, tonight won’t be any different,” you engulfed him in a tight embrace and spoke in his ear. “Now, go show ‘em what you got.”

He smiled at you, whispered a quick ‘I love you’ and darted out of the tent. You followed him, confirmed every single performer was all set to go and sat in the audience. The lights dimmed, plunging the room in complete darkness and the curtains were drawn to reveal Elsa in beautiful makeup and a just as beautiful dress. Her graceful voice deeply moved you, feeling almost transported by it.

You subtly glanced around towards the end of her performance, trying to discern the look on people’s faces. Most of them looked disappointed, but you weren’t surprised. They were here for the ‘freaks’, not the real talent after all.

As your eyes scanned the crowd, a particular someone caught your eye.

He appeared to be in his mid twenties and was the textbook definition of ‘tall, dark and handsome’. He had slicked back seemingly black hair, perfectly parted down the middle. His baby blue irises, although adverted towards the stage, were still visible and bright. He wore an elegant, unique striped suit that probably cost ten times more than the most expensive item you owned.

Next to him sat an older, strawberry blonde woman who you assumed was his mother. It was clear they were significantly wealthy from their luxurious clothing.

Your attention was still fixated on the young man. Something about him was intriguing, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Elsa had long left the stage by now and it was time for the others to shine. He looked mesmerized by everyone on stage. The fascination in his eyes was blatantly obvious, like a child in a candy shop.

He must have felt someone staring because his gaze met yours rather abruptly. You quickly spun your head back around, caught off guard. Slightly embarrassed, you shyly peered at him from the corner of your eye to make sure he was no longer paying attention to you.

Much to your surprise, he was now staring at you, an unreadable expression plastered on his face. He didn’t smile or nod, just stared. Jimmy appeared on stage just as you were beginning to get slightly anxious. You beamed at him, mouthing a silent ‘you got this’ and he flashed you his signature alluring grin in return.

The stranger still rumbled through your mind as you watched your boyfriend juggle four, five...six bowling pins. As soon as the show ended, you were about to make your way backstage to congratulate Jimmy, when a foreign male voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Excuse me?”

You hesitantly turned around and found yourself face to face with no other than the dapper young man. “Yes?” you answered skeptically.

“I noticed you speaking with one of the freaks earlier. Do you, perhaps, happen to work here?” he asked. You cringed at his choice of words but knowing correcting him wouldn’t get you anywhere, you ignored it.

“Uh, yes I do.” The awkward tension in the air was undeniably present and you slightly stuttered.

“Fascinating! You aren’t one of them I presume. You seem perfectly attractive...” he started. “Tell me, how is it living with freaks?” Your face, once again, twisted in disgust at his poor wording but you stayed calm. Jimmy on the other hand would have been fuming. The man before you had a posh way of speaking, his voice matching his wealth. It was drastically different from what you heard on a day to day basis.

“I didn’t even introduce myself! How foolish of me! Forgive me, my name is Dandy Mott,” he exclaimed, disregarding his previous question and holding his hand out.

You hesitantly took it. “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” Dandy’s grip was strong as you shook his hand. He gave you a heartfelt, closed mouthed smile and bid you goodbye.

“I’ll certainly be looking forward to seeing you again, Y/N.”

✾ ✾ ✾

Ever since your first encounter with Dandy, he attended every single show with no exception. You had grown to enjoy his company even though he was strange at times. Both of you would often go on picnics and walks through town. You, of course, made sure he understood it was purely platonic. You might have been spending less time with Jimmy, but you still remained faithful. He respected your boundaries and didn’t make any advances.

Dandy was different and you liked that about him. You needed something different. Before him, every day felt the exact same and it was painfully exhausting.

Everything was going smoothly until one night, Dandy shared his beliefs about him being ‘a supreme being’. He had hinted at it before, but you brushed it off, thinking it was nothing more than an eccentric pleasantry. You were both standing in front of the freak show’s gates and its frightening entrance when he unveiled that side of himself.

“I am a god!” he had cried out. You were at a loss for words, not believing he truly felt that way at first.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you asked.

“No, this isn’t a joke! This is what I was destined to be. Don’t you get it?” Dandy was becoming more and more agitated by the second, stepping dangerously closer to you. “I would have preferred to tell you this somewhere more...formal. But here we are.”

“Dandy-”

“I thought you of all people would understand, Y/N. Why do you always have to make things so painfully complicated?” he sighed, sounding exasperated.

“Please Dandy...” Your voice trembled. “Leave, I just n-need you to leave.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically once again. “You really are insufferable, aren’t you?” Right as he was reaching for you arm, Eve appeared.

“Y/N, there you are! There’s- uh, you see Jimmy-“ she fumbled over her words and you took it as an opportunity to flee the scene. You trusted Eve would take care of Dandy and send him home.

You entered the show’s campus and were immediately stunned by what you saw. A small, familiar crowd of people gathered around Jimmy as he flailed his arms around, nearly dropping and smashing the whiskey bottle in his right hand. His shirt was stained with what appeared to be sweat and vomit, from drinking all night. You immediately rushed over to him.

“Oh, look who finally showed up! Have fun with that prick? You manage to remove that stick up his ass yet?” he slurred, sarcastically tipping his hat at you.

“Are you insane? What the fuck are you doing?” You whisper-yelled, grabbing his arm and dragging him over to his caravan.

“Come on, Y/N! You’re no fun! I was just explaining to them how you ditched me for some rich jerk,” Jimmy blabbered on, nearly tripping over himself.

He dragged his feet in the dirt, ruining his already worn out shoes and dropped the bottle to the ground, completely shattering it. He muttered a simple ‘oops’, chuckling to himself. You practically shoved him inside the caravan and he stumbled onto the bed.

“Get up, you’re filthy,” you demanded, the stench of his clothes unbearable.

“So, this is what I have to do for you to notice me? Get shit-faced?” He sat up, a now hurt expression on his face.

“You know that’s not true,” you settled beside him and he raised his arms, a whiff of sweat hitting your nose instantly. You peeled off the dirty garment from his skin and threw it on the floor, at the foot of the bed. You gently tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you. His breath reeked of booze but you ignored it.

“I thought I lost you,” Jimmy whispered, tears pricked at his eyes and threatened to fall down.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to distance myself from you, I just-“ you paused, contemplating your words. “I can’t live like this anymore, Jimmy. Not here. And I know it sounds selfish because it hasn’t even been a year, but it’s the truth. I just can’t.” Your voice cracked as a tight knot formed in your throat, and you desperately searched Jimmy’s face for anything that could indicate how he was feeling.

“Come here.”

You leaped into his arms as your tears wet his bare chest. Sobs racked your body as you finally let go of everything you kept bottled in and hidden deep within yourself. Jimmy’s calloused fingers soothingly rubbed circles on the exposed skin of your back while you cried, before slowly pulling away. You peered up at him with glassy eyes, your lower lip trembling.

“I’m so sorry for everything, Jimmy. Dandy he-“ you shakily started but Jimmy was quick to shush you.

“Shh...it’s okay, baby. I forgive you,” he warmly smiled. His eyes suddenly lit up, an imaginary lightbulb shining over his head. “Now, what do you say we run away together?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at his outrageous proposition. So many questions ran through your mind but you chose the obvious one.

“Are you serious?” you asked, utterly baffled. Jimmy burst in a fit of laughter, his adoration for you clearer than ever.

“Of course I am! All I want is a shot at a normal life...with you.” He grinned from ear to ear, his beautiful face radiating with joy causing your heart to flutter.

“Then yes, without a doubt,” you said, tearing up once more. “I love you. ”

“And I love you,” Jimmy murmured, softly pressing his lips to the top of your head and laying down, lulling you both to sleep.

#ahs #american horror story #ahs imagine #ahs one shot #jimmy darling request #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling imagine #jimmy darling one shot #jimmy darling

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oyesmendes · 4 years

Text

wildflower - calum hood

a/n: i’ve had this storyline sitting in the works for days soooooo.... its gonna be a couple of parts so lets see where this takes us ya? full of dialogue and unnecessary descriptions.

summary: after a nasty breakup, Karla Rivera finds herself working as one of the new producers/songwriter for 5SOS. She had no intention to fall in love right now, but one conversation struck a chord with her. In between producing a smashing album and writing hit singles, Karla finds herself entangled in the arms of a man who she never thought she’d end up with.

“Alright boys, as much as I love working with you guys, I think it’s time I bring in someone new.” Andrew says as he shuffles around the kitchen of the Malibu beach house. The boys had rented this place out for a month to work on their new album, as well as to take a short break from tour. They had only arrived yesterday, but things were already starting to bloom and they had a few songs on their hand they thought would fit the album.

“What do you mean? Are you leaving us?” Luke sat up in his seat. All the boys were sprawled in different corners of the kitchen, munching on their breakfast before the day of writing began.

“I’m not leaving, just bringing someone new in.”

“Who? And why do we need someone new?” Andrew could only roll his eyes at the question, downing the last bit of his coffee before throwing it into the sink.

“You’ll know her when she gets here. She’s talented, and I think she could provide something fresh.” He looks at the time on his phone, “She should be here soon, just play nice”

The boys all gave each other looks. They haven’t really stepped out of their circle of people when it came to music, so working with someone new and not to mention a female songwriter, could really give them a whole new perspective on things.

Karla finds herself sitting in the car for way too long. She was parked outside a gorgeous beach house on the quiet side of Malibu and she was dressed in an old concert T-shirt she had stolen from her brother, along with a pair of shorts and sneakers. She takes three deep breaths and gives herself a small pep talk before climbing out of her car. This is your job she reminds herself, it’s something you love to do.

When Karla first received the phone call from Andrew, she was reluctant to move even an inch off the bed in the guest bedroom of her brother’s apartment. All she wanted to do was shove down another pint of ice cream and watch old re-runs of Real Housewives. She knew her brother was the culprit behind the phone call, filling Andrew in about her breakup with her boyfriend of three years. Andrew had blown up her phone afterwards, calling Karla every single day until she finally agreed to come write with him for a week. Though it was a good intention, trying to get Karla out of the house, Andrew knew it was also her prime time. The overwhelming emotions she felt more often than not would be translated into the most beautiful words, and she would produce sounds unheard of. So here she was, standing in front of the door of the house. She had her water bottle and duffel in hand, notebook, phone and iPad in the other. The white door swings open, and Andrew pulled her into his arms immediately,

“There you are!” She returns the hug, a genuine smile on her face after finally him in the flesh. Andrews pulls away, hands clasped to her upper arm and he takes a good look at her. Karla thanks god for the Benefit concealer she’s slathered under her eyes or she’d be getting an earful from him. He grins at her and pulls her into the house, down the hallway to the living room where she spots the four boys with their heads buried in some form of instrument or notebook. They don’t take notice of their presence at first until Andrew clears his throat, and the boys look up at him.

“Boys, this is Karla Rivera, she’ll be working with us for the week!” Andrew says a little too enthusiastically. Karla gives them a small wave, and she notices the look that the boys give each other. They were unsure of her that was for sure, having not met her before. Ashton stood up first, Karla reaching her hand out but the boy pulled her into a single arm hug. She laughed when she was caught off guard by him, which set the boys smiling as well. Calum, Michael and Luke followed after, and they were settled down at the couch so they could show her what they had been working on.

“This is good… maybe we can add a bum bum bum.” She hummed a tune the boys had never heard before, and Andrew scrambled to play it on his guitar.

“And then for the lyrics maybe we could do - killin’ me slow with the words you wrote, the heart you broke…” Karla paused to scribble words onto her notebook before singing out, “calling my name, I don’t wanna stay but I’m wide awake, I’m wide awake.” Everyone in the room was in shock at how naturally the words flowed for her, this being the second song that was almost done and definitely had potential in being on the album. There was a lot of humming and words being muttered under their breath, until Calum shot up from his chair.

“How about - just one more taste of you my love. Then we repeat the first two lines? This could be the chorus!” Luke was already by the piano, playing out the melody and singing to the lyrics they had just written down.

“Thin white lies”

“What was that, K?”

“Add the line of thin white lies after that line that Calum just said, have someone sing it in the background or something.” Andrew looked to the boys who followed suit, their eyes widening when they heard themselves perform it. Karla had a wide grin on her face when she heard it unfold, her eyes meeting Calum’s who looked equally as satisfied. They still had a long way to go with empty verses that needed to be filled, but this was a small victory worth celebrating.

“Holy shit.” Ashton mumbled after hearing the small part.

“I told you she was good.”

“Didn’t tell me she was that good.” Andrew smirked at him before working to compile all the components of the chorus together. After the chorus came together, everything else in the song fell into place easily. All four boys worked on the lyrics with Karla, who made the words fall out of their mouths. They had almost the entire song written from top to bottom, the melodies and layering all in place, and they were just missing a bridge and outro.

“We could just stray away from the conventional structure” Michael suggested, but Ashton shook his head.

“No, it feels like something is missing.”

“How about…” Karla had her head in her notebook, flipping through the worn out pages of it. She often dug through the words she had written before but never used, and they would often be essential in a situation like this. Her finger ran across the page that was filled with her scrawly handwriting just a week after her breakup, and that’s when she found the exact words.

“I don't think I like me anymore. Can someone tell me who I was before? We can repeat this twice, I think it fits.” Calum writes it down on the paper that they had the lyrics on, and Luke proceeds to sing it out. Those words definitely fit. They all cheer, high-fives thrown among each other. Karla smiles softly, celebrating with the boys. They take a fifteen minute break for Andrew to record everything down, and Karla took this chance to step outside on the balcony. This was her favourite kind of view - watching the sea crash into the sand, the sun shining above the horizon and a few people laying on the beach having a good time. She thinks about all the time she’s spent at the beach in her three year relationship. How they’d spend every important date in their lives celebrating in the salty water, getting sand so far up their ass they’d shit sandcastles for days. She laughs to herself then shakes her head out of those thoughts. It’s been a whole month since that faithful day, she’s got to get over it. Just as she was about to go back inside, Calum startles her with his voice and she jumps.

“Jeezus, you couldn’t be any stealthier huh.” He chuckles, and Karla notices how his eyes crinkle.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She gives him her middle finger, and he stands next to her, admiring the view as well.

“What you did in there, those words were really cool y’know?”

“Thank you.” She says shyly. It’s been nearly five years since she started working as a songwriter, and she still couldn’t handle compliments well.

“Those words came from somewhere?” Karla knew where this conversation was going, but she wasn’t ready for it yet. She nods to Calum, then shrugs her shoulders. He understands and doesn’t push the boundaries.

They worked on a couple more songs before they called it a day. The boys had all agreed that Karla brought something different to the table, and pushed them to a whole new level they never knew existed. The lyrics were definitely more vulnerable and honest, and they were enjoying every single moment of it. Food and beer was strewn all over the table, the boys chatting about the next leg of the tour and what not. Karla was the first to notice that Calum wasn’t in the room with them, and she looks around only to find him on the balcony, a cigarette in his hand.

“You know, one too many of those and you could die.” It was his turn to jump, and Karla smiles at him when he dramatically raises his hand to his chest.

“I’d die of a cardiac arrest first.” She playfully shoves him, then moves to take her place on the outdoor sofa. Calum joins her and the pair stay quiet for awhile, just watching as the waves crashed harder on the sand.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Karla hums in response, her eyes closed as a cool breeze passes by. Calum places his hand on her knee, squeezing it slightly to get her attention. Her eyes flutter open and she looks at him, brown eyes and all, just staring at her.

“It just reminds me of my ex.” She sighs, leaning her head back on the chair.

“What does? The ocean?”

“That, and everything else. It’s like I wake up and all I can think about is how awful I feel without him by my side.” His heart scrunches up at her words. He’s finding the right response to her statement, racking his brain for the exact words. But is there a correct response to such a statement? Her voice gets him out of his head, and he’s listening intently again.

“He cheated y’know? I wasn’t in town and he fucking cheated. Had sex with a girl on our bed.”

“A fucker.” Calum seethes. He hears her chuckle and it confuses him for a moment before she speaks up, “that’s an understatement.” Karla leans on his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She felt a sense of relief admitting this to someone other than her brother or her best friend. And it felt good to finally get her emotions out on to paper and into a song.

Calum felt his heart race at a dangerous speed when her head came into contact with his shoulders. It was unlike any other feelings that he’s had before. He finds himself being curious, wanting to get to know more of her, and so desperately wanting to feel her touch against his skin. They sit like this for a long time, the sound of the waves and soft music in the background. He leans his head onto hers, humming a soft tune every now and then.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #5 second of summer imagines #calum hood #calum hood fics #calum hood imagines #ashton irwin #luke hemmings fic #michael clifford

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stuonsongs · 3 years

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My Top 10 Favorite Songs of All Time - 2006 Edition

2021 Editor’s Note: I was looking through some old files and found this thing that I wrote sometime in the summer of 2006 at age 22. For all I know, it could’ve been 15 years to the day! Looking back, I’m not sure how many of these songs would still make my top 10. Don’t get me wrong, I still love all of these tunes, but I’m sure you know how it goes - You get older, you get exposed to more things, and your idea of good music expands. Anyway, I thought it might be nice to share with anyone who still uses this site. I present it in its original format without edits to my writing. I ended up writing full posts in this blog about some of these songs if you go through the archive.

Stu’s Top 10 Favorite Songs…Ever

Let’s start with some honorable mentions. These were so close, and I thought about it for so long, but they had to be left off.

Honorable Mentions

All Summer Long – The Beach Boys

All Summer Long. 1964. Capitol

This song has been described so many times as being “the perfect summer song.” When you listen to it, you can’t help but smile from the opening marimba intro, all the way through. It just screams “summer” and it hurt me to leave The Beach Boys off my top 10.

Bleed American – Jimmy Eat World

Bleed American. 2001. Grand Royal

So full of energy, so rocking, and so what would’ve been the most recent song on my list. I wanted to keep it in the top 10 just so I could have a song from the ‘00s, but it wasn’t meant to be. When the chorus kicks in, I can’t help but headbang.

Marie – Randy Newman

Good Old Boys. 1974. Reprise

Randy has said that a lot of young composers pick “Marie” as their favorite Newman song, and I can see why. The idea of a guy having to be drunk to tell his wife that he loves her is pretty funny, and throughout the whole song it’s just the beautiful melody with tons of strings, all to a tune about a guy ripping on himself as he comes home drunk to his wife.

Does He Love You? – Rilo Kiley

More Adventurous. 2004. Brute/Beaute

I guess this is newer than Bleed American, so it would’ve worked too. This is another more recent song that it killed me to leave off the list. The outro is an arrangement of the main tune with a different chord progression performed by a string quartet. Very beautiful. Also when Jenny Lewis screams “Your husband will never leave you, he will never leave you for me,” I get chills every time.

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So here it is. After a long day’s work, I’m finally finished. It actually turned out much different than I was thinking when I first started. The number one wasn’t really even in my top five when I started, but I slowly realized I loved it so much. I also left Ben Folds (Five) off this list completely, and I don’t know, I just feel the whole catalogue of Ben is so solid, none of the songs stick out to me that much. But anyways, here it is! After the break of course…

Stu’s Top 10

10.

(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave – Martha and the Vandellas

Heat Wave. 1963. Motown.

This one beat out “Bleed American” just barely. The reason being that somehow, despite being nearly 40 years older than Bleed American, it still has so much energy that it kills. Dan Bukvich once told our Jazz Arranging class that you can boil all the oldies you hear on the radio down to three categories: 1) Great Song. 2) Great Performance. 3) Great Arrangement. This song is one of the great performances. The handclaps throughout, combined with the driving baritone sax behind everything and constant snare drum action will keep anybody with blood running through their veins dancing all night long.

Bodhisattva – Steely Dan

Countdown to Ecstasy. 1973. MCA

This song is my Freebird. It’s just a basic blues progression song at its core with some minor changes at the end of the form. The real kicker that drives this song home is the three minute guitar solo in the middle that isn’t nearly as rocking as Freebird, but it is highly proficient and takes me to places that just make me want to play the song over and over again. I have no idea what this song is about, probably Buddhism, but hey, this once again proves that lyrics rarely matter and the music itself is the core.

Zanzibar – Billy Joel

52nd Street. 1978. Columbia

This song reminds me of long car rides on vacations down the west coast with my parents growing up. They used to play a tape of 52nd Street, or at least their favorite selections, constantly on these trips. I didn’t hear this song again until early in my senior year in college and remembered why I loved it so much. The song has a heavy jazz influence, displayed in the breakdown where Jazz trumpeter Freddie Hubbard does a solo. The best part of this song though is at the end of the 4th line of each verse, Billy does this “Woah oh oh!” thing that just makes me want to sing every time. It was between this and “Miami 2017 (Lights Go Out On Broadway)” which is also a great song, but the “Woah oh oh!” is too much for ol’ Stu boy.

Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) – Bruce Springsteen

The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle. 1973. Columbia

Early Bruce Springsteen records have something that very few other artists can ever pull off without sounding cheesy or forced. It has this undeniable sense of urgency, like the world will fall apart and life will crumble through your fingers if this one moment in time doesn’t work out the way Bruce describes it. There are so many early Springsteen songs that just set a scene of “We have to get out of this town right now girl before it kills us, no matter what any of our parents, friends, anybody has to say.” There’s a line that kinda sums it up: “Well hold on tight, stay up all night ‘cause Rosie I’m comin’ on strong. By the time we meet the morning light, I will hold you in my arms. I know a pretty little place in southern California down San Diego way. There’s a little café where they play guitars all night and all day. You can hear ‘em in the back room strummin’, so hold tight baby ‘cause don’t you know daddy’s comin’.”

I’ve Got You Under My Skin – Frank Sinatra

Songs For Swingin’ Lovers! 1956. Capitol

This song falls into the category of great arrangement. This Cole Porter classic tune was arranged for Sinatra by Nelson Riddle. The story goes that he was still copying down parts for the players while riding in the cab to the recording studio on the day of recording. After the players ran through it once with Frank, they stood up and applauded. The Baritone sax takes control here, outlining a Db6/9 chord throughout the intro. Of course, Frank’s vocal delivery is spot on and goes up and down in all the right places for the biggest emotion impact. It’s amazing how a song with no real chorus can be so good.

A Change Is Gonna Come – Sam Cooke

Ain’t That Good News. 1964. RCA Victor

This song was not even going to be on this list, but then I ran across it while scouring my collection of music and remembered how good it was. Then I listened to it and was blown away by the level of detail that went into this arrangement. Sam’s vocals soar above the mind blowingly beautiful arrangement. The lyrics to this one actually add to the tune itself, speaking of wrongdoings in the world around him, and how social change is on its way in the form of the civil rights movement. The song flows with such ease out of Cooke that one might forget the weightiness of the content, but the song’s content is just so heavy that it’s impossible to deny it.

Whatever – Oasis

Whatever EP. 1994. Creation

This song was released as a Christmas present to the U.K. from the Gallagher brothers and company. It never appeared on any full album, only being released as a single, and amazingly, it blows away anything else they’ve ever done. Think “All You Need Is Love,” but with tons of rocking energy and a snide, nonchalant attitude. The chorus speaks, “I’m free to be whatever I, whatever I choose and I’ll sing the blues if I want. I’m free to be whatever I, whatever I like, if it’s wrong or right, it’s alright.” Not exactly poetry, and the song isn’t exactly breaking any new ground either, but the song is absolutely perfect in every way, and it was going to be my #1, but perhaps the only reason it’s not at number one is because I’ve played this song so many times that at the moment, these next three are beating it, but who knows how I’ll feel in a few months. This song also pulls the same “outro performed by a string quartet” thing as “Does He Love You?” but even better. It’s so simple, but I can’t get enough of it.

Mr. Blue Sky – Electric Light Orchestra

Out of the Blue. 1977. Jet

This is obviously the best Beatles song that the Beatles never wrote. The staccato guitar during the verse combined with the strings present in just about every ELO song combine to make a force that is undeniably catchy and musically challenging at the same time. This is really what makes ELO so good. I didn’t discover this song till probably Nov. 2005, and it was one of the best days of my life. I didn’t want to include two songs by the same artist in my top 10, but if I did, I probably would’ve added “Turn To Stone” on this list too because it is almost as awesome as this one. It’s a shame that just like Billy Joel, most critics at the time hated ELO for being overly creative musically (they called it pretentiousness). These days we have acts that really are pretentious (see Radiohead), but everyone loves them, even critics. I’m not knocking all Radiohead, just most everything post OK Computer. Sorry, got a little sidetracked there.

Only In Dreams – Weezer

Weezer. 1994. Geffen

This has been my favorite Weezer song since about a month into me picking up Weezer’s debut album back around early 2000. It has this ostinato (a repeated motif over and over again) in the bass throughout most of the whole song, never even really resolving to the Gb major chord (excluding chorus, which never really resolves) that it wants to until the end of a 3 minute contrapuntal guitar duet when everything dies out except the bass which just retards on its own until it finally plays the single Gb we’ve all been waiting for. The song on the whole up until the guitar duet is pretty tame, but once those contrapuntal guitar lines start intertwining, my ears perk up every time. I can sing both lines at separate times upon request and when the drums finally kick back in fully at the climax of the song, I let out a sigh of relief or bang on my car wheel in exultant joy, whichever is more of an option at the time.

All Is Forgiven – Jellyfish

Spilt Milk. 1993. Charisma

I always loved this song from the first time I heard it, but I didn’t realize how much I loved it until maybe April 2006. I found out about Jellyfish first semester of college in the Fall of ’02 and heard this song, and knew it was great. The constant tom-tom driven drums, the fuzzy, almost white noise distorted guitar, and the half time bass throughout. It was great. Then in April I put it on my mp3 player for the walk to school, and then I listened to it for about two weeks straight. Seriously. It runs into the next song entitled “Russian Hill” which is almost as good, but because it’s a separate song, I couldn’t include it on the list, but in my mind, they always run together and are basically one long 9 minute song. The ending just gets more and more white noise filled until you can barely take it anymore and then it just cuts off completely into the slow acoustic intro for Russian Hill. It’s perfect in every way. I think this would fall into the category of great song. And the way the song builds up right to the middle of the song and then cuts out completely except for some very VERY faint xylophone noodling, and then busts back in with some feedback directly into guitar solo. Man I love this song.

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ericdeggans · 3 years

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How My Love for Sean Connery and Bond Led to a Serious Case of White Guy Hero Infatuation Syndrome

Like a lot of people all over the world, I have long considered myself a stone Sean Connery fan.

I often recited the juiciest dialogue bits from his Oscar-winning turn as a beat cop-turned crusader in he Untouchables (in addition to the speech everyone quotes, I loved how he told Eliot Ness he knew he was a treasury agent without seeing his badge because “who would claim to be that who was not?”) I watched the painfully clumsy 1986 B-movie Highlander mostly for his charming turn as Egyptian (!) immortal Juan Sánchez-Villalobos Ramírez.

And, of course his work as James Bond always set the ultimate example for urbane cool. Which explains why I often felt the theme song thrumming in my head whenever I wore a stylish suit or hopped off a plane in a cool city. For men from the generation before mine, he practically defined the sophisticated, stylish machismo found in the pages of Esquire and Playboy.

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For these reasons and more, I have always loved the rogueish Scotsman as an actor. And yet, when news of his death at age 90 spread across the world, I couldn’t bear to pay tribute to him on my social media pages, until now.

That’s because his passing highlighted my problem with a particular malady. I call it White Guy Hero Infatuation Syndrome. And I have suffered from it for many years.

Put simply, my fan’s brain knows that Connery’s landmark performances were the stuff of film legend – especially as Bond. Cool, authoritative, suavely menacing and mostly unflappable, his take on a secret agent who knows the best suit designers nearly as well as the best pistol manufacturers set the template for escapist espionage fantasies over the next half century and beyond.

His first line as the character – “Bond. James Bond.” – has become pop culture legend.

But as a media critic, I also have to contend with James Bond’s status as a relentless sexist and a British agent who walked the world as if it was made to be ruled by wealthy, capable white men. Watch him slap the behind of a pretty blonde who was massaging him poolside in 1964’s Goldfinger when CIA agent Felix Leiter turns up for a chat. “Man talk,” he tells her dismissively, sending her out of the scene.

Or check out how he treats Quarrel, the bug-eyed Black man who acts as a “fixer” for him in Jamaica during the first Bond film, 1962’s Dr. No. Scrambling across a beach to avoid the bad guys’ goons, Bond turns to Quarrel and tells him “fetch my shoes” -- as if he were his butler, rather than a local ally helping him avoid thugs with automatic weapons.

And there’s loads of scenes where Bond forces himself on women who quickly succumb to his charms – like Honor Blackman’s character in 1964′s Goldfinger – perpetuating a dangerous myth that a man can earn a woman’s love by pushing her into being romantic with him. (Or that a dismissive, vaguely annoyed tone with women – treating them like impertinent children or misguided simpletons – is also, somehow, irresistible to them.)

When Connery played Bond, he played a character who was the embodiment of white privilege. He made it look sexy, virtuous and necessary – the natural state of things in a 1960s-era world that, outside the comfortable confines of Bond’s make-believe spy games, seemed to be coming apart at the seams. But in the America of 2020, it’s a symbol of how media can teach you to accept a limiting legend.

And this was a fantasy I bought into eagerly. As a kid, my mom and I bonded over the heroic white guys she loved on film and TV, mostly from westerns. Just this past December, as she was fighting cancer and months before she would succumb to an infection, we sat and watched Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson, Kevin Costner and Robert Duvall save the day too many times to count.

As I got older, I’d make fun of all the misogyny, racism and white centering going on in these shows – gibes which my mother, a proud Black woman who loved her people and culture, tolerated with a weary smile. “These are my guys,” she’d say playfully, swatting aside any idea that there was a deeper impact from gorging on stories which treated these virtuous white men as the noble, natural center of every story. I wish the issue were that simple; it often isn’t.

For me, it wasn’t just a problem with Connery. As a kid, I loved Eastwood’s 1970s-era Dirty Harry movies, where the taciturn cop with a Magnum pistol cut through all the nonsense to nab the bad guy. Same with Bronson’s Death Wish films, where the solution to rampant street crime wasn’t better policing, but a taciturn, middle class white guy with a gun shooting down street criminals. It’s a potent fantasy, especially if you’ve ever had to deal with the numbing bureaucracy of real-life law enforcement or the brutal violation of being a crime victim.

It wasn’t until I got older that I realized many of those bad guys Harry Callahan was hunting were young hippies and Black people – the kind of folks who, in real life when Dirty Harry was released in 1971, were trying to get America to face how it was chewing up poor, young men in an unwinnable, unnecessary war in Vietnam. It was a prime example of “copaganda” – convincing the audience that the excesses Detective Callahan committed to nail a person the audience already knew was a serial killer, was justified.

Even now, I wonder: Can I watch these movies and appreciate why they are thrilling, while rejecting the tropes that present a white male-centered world as just and appropriate? In my work on race and media, I’m often telling audiences that people who insist they are not affected by media subtexts are often the most affected by them. Couldn’t that be true for me, when it comes to heroes like Eastwood, Bronson and Connery?

(One caveat: Sitting in an arena in Tampa, watching Eastwood give his infamously strange “empty chair” speech at the Republican National Convention in 2012, broke me of my affection for his work. I have avoided watching new Clint Eastwood films since then. Click here to read my report on the empty chair speech for the Tampa Bay Times.)

In his later years, Connery denied or walked back quotes where he seemed to approve of physically hitting women in real life. His roles in films like Highlander, The Untouchables, Hunt for Red October, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen often featured him playing the older mentor to younger white guy heroes portrayed by the likes of Harrison Ford, Alec Baldwin and Kevin Costner.

And so, as the question of Connery’s legacy in show business arises, the fanboy part of me is at war with the media critic. One side of me is lost in the absolute coolness of the suave masculinity he so often symbolized, particularly as the world’s most successful secret agent.

The other is painfully aware of the inequalities and oppression such portrayals enabled, and how much they may feed our real life fantasies for a powerful white male savior to set things right, even now.

Especially now.

And saying these characters were a product of their flawed times somehow doesn’t seem enough.

This is a tough column to write, and not just because there are so many fans who want to focus on the best moments of Sean Connery’s life now that he’s gone. It’s difficult because he was a personal hero of mine for a long while – and remains one of my favorite performers – even as I acknowledge the terribly male-centric and white-superior ethos he embodied in so many roles.

This may sound like disrespectful nitpicking to hardcore fans and family. It’s never easy to sit with the more uncomfortable aspects of a great artist’s legacy. And the time after his death has been filled with heartfelt tributes to Connery, a man of great talent and no-nonsense sensibilities who was respected and loved by a great many people who worked with him.

Sometimes the media critic’s job requires being a buzzkill; insisting the public pay attention to troubling aspects of a film or TV show that we would all just rather sit back and enjoy. Because part of unwinding the effect of past portrayals is acknowledging their power in the present day.

Which means, every time I watch Connery stride to a baccarat table in Goldfinger, Dr. No, or Diamonds Are Forever, archly demanding a precisely constructed alcoholic beverage, I also have to remind myself of the damage done by too many characters like that offering too constricted a vision of what a hero looks and acts like. And I suggest you do the same.

It's the only way to balance a comforting myth with the reality of how that legend can, unwittingly, teach us to cling to ideas that ultimately hold us back.

#james bond #sean connery #race #pop culture

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ourooboroos · 4 years

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Intermission

HELLO. @the-ghost-of-william-herondale and I have begun a TSC AU Challenge wherein we each write AUs and then must use some part of each other’s fic for our next AU.

(They’ve also posted a fic and it’s wonderful and I 10/10 recommend you go read it!) Here’s my first one!

Read the full thing below the cut or on my AO3.

***

“Alec? You’re drooling.”

Alec whirls around, releasing his grip on the thick rope next to him. It springs up a tiny bit, and the pulley above it shudders. Izzy’s smirking at him, her face caked in stage makeup and wearing a loose orange jumpsuit.

“I am not,” Alec says, but he swipes his sleeve over his mouth just in case. “I’m just, uh. Getting ready for intermission.”

Izzy snorts. “Intermission isn't for, like, three scenes.” She reaches out and pats him on the shoulder, and Alec rolls his eyes at her. “It’s okay, you can admit that you like what you see.”

“Shut up.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Alec waits until his sister has gone further into the wing before turning back to the stage. Izzy’s right, they have another song and a half until intermission, plus a short scene and two set changes. He has no reason to be so close to the curtain pull. But. Can anyone blame him for being a little distracted? The school’s star is on stage at this very moment, dressed for their last rehearsal in much too large trousers and an oversized sports coat, and he looks absolutely stunning. Also, he’s singing. And Alec may be in love with his voice.

When Alec’s parents had divorced and his mother had packed up her life along with his, Izzy’s, Jace’s, and Max’s, Alec was… upset to say the least. He loved his life in New York and moving in the middle of his senior year because his father had had an affair was not high on things he wanted to do. Another thing that was not high on that list was working tech crew for his new school’s spring musical.

But then Izzy was cast as Brooke Wyndham and she didn’t have a car to drive home after rehearsal every day and Jace was on the baseball team so he couldn’t help and Izzy begged Alec and the guy playing Emmett was so hot…

So here he is.

It’s been three months of rehearsals and Emmett (his name is Magnus, dammit, Alec reminds himself) has just gotten better and better and could probably play Elle Woods himself, if matters depended on it, and look damn good doing it (as it stands, Helen is playing Elle, but like… Alec can just tell that Magnus would be really excellent as any character, okay?). But Alec hasn’t been able to endear himself to Magnus at all. In three months. And the first actual performance was tomorrow night with three following over the weekend and then, come Monday, Alec would have no reason to see Magnus anymore (he had come to realize, belatedly, perhaps, that they shared no classes or their lunch period, which, quite frankly, was just cruel).

Alec sighs and turns his head back to the stage just as Magnus is moving into the final line of the song. It’s like music to his ears. Well. Better than music. Like angel’s singing. Or something. Whatever.

“Hey,” comes a voice from behind him, and he looks over his shoulder to see another member of the stage crew, a girl he hasn’t spent much time with, but who painted a lot of the sets. He thinks her name is Carrie? Maybe? Her shockingly red hair is much easier to remember than her name, all things considered. “Ready for the set change?”

Alec’s eyes drift over to the large wooden cut out of a mobile trailer set off to the side. “Yeah,” he replies. He and Clary move over and each grip a side of the set piece and wait until Magnus finishes the last note he’s holding and the stage lights dim. A small group of stage crew members pop out from the other wing and carry off the Harvard set and Alec and Clary get moving. Raj runs out with a trash can and a piece of sheer fabric with trash and debris attached to it. The trailer is set slightly to stage right, with the trash can next to it, the fabric spread along the stage floor. Andrew moves to stand behind the trailer, dressed in a grubby tank top and boxers and carrying a large stuffed bulldog. Clary turns and jogs quietly back to the wing and as Alec follows, he bumps into Magnus, who has turned his eyes to the floor as he finds his next mark.

“Sorry,” Alec whispers, but Magnus just sends him a kind smile and raises his hand in apology. Alec’s heart thumps heavily, rapidly, and he ignores it as best he can as he stalks quickly to the wing. Izzy’s watching him, grinning, when he gets back to his spot. “Shut up.”

****

Opening night arrives in a flurry of tickets and programs and two dollar concessions in the school lobby. Alec is standing around backstage with the other stage hands as the cast members prepare in the dressing rooms down a nearby hall. Clary’s doodling something in her sketchbook and Raj is telling some story that Alec is only pretending to listen to. He’s relieved when Izzy pops out of the hallway connecting to the dressing rooms and grabs his arm. “Come with me,” she says, and tugs him into the hall.

Alec furrows his brow but lets her drag him. “Izzy, wha-” but before he can finish, she’s opened the door to the men’s dressing room and shoves him in with a smile. Alec stares at the door for a moment, confused, but spins when someone clears their throat.

Magnus. He stands across the room, near a vanity, already in costume and makeup. His hair is free of its normal faux-hawk and instead parted neatly on one side and combed loosely back. He’s in another too big sports coat and ill-fitting trousers that reach the toes of his Converse, and he’s missing the glitter and jewelry that he donned before dress rehearsals began. His smile is gentle and his voice soft as he says, “Hi.”

Alec knows his eyes are wide, and he can feel the heat creeping up his neck. He’s glad the rest of the room is empty - which, how? - as he backs up a little and his back hits the door. “H-hey.”

Magnus’s smile falls as Alec wrings his hands in front of him. “I don’t…” he pauses to clear his throat again and his gaze darts to the floor before he meets Alec’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t even think-”

Ah, shit. “No,” Alec interrupts. “I’m not… okay, I am, but it’s not a bad thing,” he says, sputtering slightly. When Magnus’s lips twitch, he lets out a breath and runs a hand over the back of his head. “What… uh, why did Izzy bring me here?” His eyes flick around the room - the bright lights on the vanities that line one wall, the open wardrobes along the other, the backpacks and sneakers scattered along the floor - before landing on the top of Magnus’s head. Meeting his eyes, which Alec has just realized are the deepest, richest shade of brown, is just too difficult.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Magnus says easily, and Alec’s face grows hotter.

“...Why?”

Alec sees Magnus glance at the clock above the vanities, and takes a peek himself. They have half an hour until places. Magnus takes a step forward and Alec watches, motionless. He wonders, briefly, if this is what an antelope feels like when it sees a lioness about to attack. “You’re new this year.”

“Yeah.”

“And we don’t have any classes together.” Another step.

“No.”

Magnus pauses a few feet away and smiles and Alec finally meets his eyes. They’re shining in the fluorescent room. “So I just… wanted to get to know you better. I’m sorry it’s taken me three months to say anything, but-”

“Better late than never,” Alec blurts out. He resists the urge to clap a hand over his mouth, because, fuck, he’s embarrassing himself, but then Magnus laughs, loud and bright. “Exactly.”

They stand there silently for a moment, simply looking at each other. Alec feels like he’s allowed to now, maybe, and his eyes rove over the planes of Magnus’s face, his strong jaw and his smooth skin, even as he has stage makeup coating his face. It feels weird, staring at him so openly after months of covert glances and watching him from the shadows backstage. At the same time, he can sense Magnus’s eyes on him, and he wonders what he thinks. Perhaps, one day, he can ask him.

“So…” Alec begins, not sure where this sentence is heading. He scratches his cheek. Magnus is smiling at him encouragingly. “You’ve been, uh, really good. Brilliant, I mean. Y’know, out there, as… as Emmett.”

Magnus laughs again, and Alec grins. He thinks he could get used to that sound - it’s almost as melodic as Magnus’s singing. “Thank you.” He gestures to his costume and tugs at the sleeves of his coat. “I’m not a huge fan of the costume, though.”

“I mean,” Alec clears his throat, “there’s the, uh, shopping scene. You look pretty great there.” He quickly averts his gaze, but looks back just in time to see Magnus’s face redden. He preens a little.

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus says, voice even softer than it had been earlier, and Alec’s heart nestles tightly in his throat, nearly causing him to choke. Nobody calls him Alexander. Not his mother, his father, any of his siblings or relatives… he’d never been okay with anyone calling him Alexander. But coming out of Magnus’s mouth, it sounds right.

Alec opens his mouth, about to say as much, when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Are you guys done in there? I need to finish getting dressed.”

Magnus and Alec meet each other’s eyes and crack matching grins.

****

Opening night had gone off without a hitch (except for when Lydia tripped over her jump rope during “Whipped Into Shape”), and now it was Saturday. There are two performances today, one at noon and one at 7pm, and everyone involved is ready for it to be a long day. Alec’s packed himself and Izzy a few granola bars, bottles of water, and energy drinks (despite how much he loathes them) just to keep himself awake.

It’s not like he spent most of last night thinking about Magnus and their talk in the dressing room, or the way Magnus had hip-bumped him during intermission, or the way he’d asked Alec for help fixing his hair before the final scene, or the way he’d given Alec one of the flowers that his friend Catarina had brought for him when they bumped into each other in the parking lot before heading home.

Anyway.

The matinee is going smoothly so far, and it’s nearly intermission (actually, this time. Like it really is almost intermission) so Alec is standing near the curtain pull, just waiting for the stage lights to dim and the music to die down. He knows his cue. It’s the end of the scene where Elle finds out she got the internship.

And it’s because he knows his cue that he doesn’t feel bad about blatantly watching Magnus as he points to the board on the Harvard set, pinches Helen, and then quietly makes his way off-stage, heading towards Alec’s wing. Alec smiles at him and goes back to watching Helen sing. But before he knows what’s happening, he’s being shoved against the wall behind him. His eyes widen as Magnus grips his shoulders and leans in quickly and without warning.

And then they’re kissing. Alec relaxes as Magnus presses against him, his lips soft and his body warm. He faintly hears quiet golf claps coming from further backstage and he raises a hand to flip off whoever it is before his hands settle on Magnus’s waist.

Magnus pulls back after a long moment, and Alec can do nothing but stare at him, grinning widely. Magnus is smiling back and I can get used to that, Alec thinks.

“...than before!”

The stage lights flicker out.

Alec spins, pulling the rope and swinging the heavy velvet curtains closed as Magnus laughs behind him.

And yeah. He could get used to this.

#linkscap writes #malec #shadowhunters #tsc #alec x magnus #alec lightwood #magnus bane #high school au #yes they ARE performing legally blonde: the musical

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randomguywithwords · 4 years

Text

Thanks For The Assist: Chapter 2 (Itsuka X Neito Story)

AO3 Link: Here

Chapters: 1

Chapter 2: Acceptance

––––––––

“How was the test?” Father asked as the three of them sat at the dinner table eating.

“Ok, I think I did fine,” Monoma said as he picked up a slice of meat.

“How were you graded?” Mother said.

“Fought some robots. You get points the more you destroy. The harder the robot, the more points you get. The field was massive, pretty much a life-size city, and I think they had at least 3.” Monoma explained with patience, though he suspected this expositioning was boring the other audience with information they already knew.

Mother hummed her assent. “I’m not surprised. U.A has a ton of money. More money than they need, really…” She ended her statement in a mutter. It sounded like constrained resentment to Neito. It probably was, but understandable.

“Isn’t the ministry diverting more money towards your school, dear?” Father said.

“Yes, I suppose. After years of appeals by the school committee. Hopefully I can obtain better equipment to teach those kids.” Mrs Monoma sighed, looking back towards Neito. “But I hope you get in, Neito. I have to admit, it’s really once-in-a-lifetime, and U.A will make you a fine hero.”

“Thanks, mother.” Neito smiled. A fine hero. The phrase did not apply to him, not in the societal nor linguistic sense of the word. A hero relied on himself to get the job done, at the end of the day. With what he had, that was an impossibility.

“None of the other kids gave you trouble, did they?” Father asked, and Monoma winced on the inside, thinking about the events transpiring just after the test.

“No, they were nice people,” He said. It was no lie, by technicalities. There was that girl, after all. Kendo, was it? She was nice.

Father seemed to perk up at his answer, gladdened. “That’s good,” He gave an approving nod. “I’m glad they weren’t like your schoolmates.”

Neito waved his hand like an aristocrat at a banquet. “Nah, I think maybe those guys were just ––” He struggled for the proper word. “Lame.” He ended, and grinned internally at the apt description of his dialogue. But that smile died in the next instant when he thought about what he had wanted to say.

Flat characters. A character with one dimension, owning a singular character trait to serve a purpose in a story. That’s what he called them, but not Mother.

“About time kids your age learned some maturity,” She said, her ‘teacher’ side emerging. “Not you, Neito – of course. You’re a sensible boy. Apart from your silly theatrics, but you’ll grow out of it.”

There it is, He sighed, on the inside – or, aside. That was how the plays would state inner actions on the script. But Mother doesn’t like plays, does she now?

“Neito, tell us about the fighting,” Father interjected with a smile that was a bit too wide, “What quirks did you use?”

Neito gave a response, but his heart was no longer in the conversation, having been chilled by Mother’s own lovely warmth that she had no idea she was radiating.

–––––

The letter came a week later when his parents were at work. Neito opened it up in his room. After all, where else would he? Only in his room could he find solace. And on his bed, comfort, so he plopped himself down and opened the envelope.

The contents contained a disc. A holographic. Taking it out and laying it on his bed, he pressed the blue button in the centre, producing a video on the wall.

It was the scene of an office, with a mouse sitting on a chair and a cup of tea on the glass table. He recognised the principal of U.A himself.

“Neito Monoma! Very good afternoon, or morning, or night, to you – depending when you see this, of course. On the off chance you are unaware of me, I am Nezu, principal of U.A High. This video is approximately 5 minutes long, but I will save you the suspense. You got in. Congratulations.”

His heart soared, and he pumped a fist in the air, breathing a sigh in much-desired catharsis. Had he been holding that in since the beginning?

“You are, both celebrating – I would hope, and also wondering what the remaining 4 and a half minutes are about. Please do not ignore the rest of this video, because I want to review two things: your performance at the entrance exam, and your quirk. Take a look at this.”

The video showed clips of Monoma from a birds’ eye view, running around and using his borrowed quirks, as well as him tapping random strangers. He noted how a lot of them turned their heads in evident surprise and puzzlement at him patting them on the shoulder or arm. And then the clip played of him taking a couple of points away from those guys.

Nezu clucked his tongue. “Many in society would deem that as ‘un-hero-like’ behaviour, as it can be interpreted as stealing, or taking what does not belong to you. Criminal acts indeed, if the deed is severe and the stolen thing valuable. But, your quirk acts on that very principle of taking what does not belong to you.”

The (overwhelmingly intelligent, Monoma realised) mouse continued, “I’ve taken the liberty of reviewing your application and academics. You boast admirable grades in your middle school, and your form teacher commented that you were a highly observant, smart and mature student. I could go on, but you know what you’ve submitted. I will continue with that presumed knowledge.”

“You must have realised by now, or very early on in your career as a hero aspirant, that your quirk is unorthodox, having no use on its own. You require allies, or foes who you can lay a finger on, to fight. And even then, you must hastily adapt to whatever quirk you have under your control, for a period of time. Lots of limitations, Mr Monoma. A lot of challenges you have faced, are facing, and will face. And when you are initiated into my school, expect more.” Nezu took a sip of his tea.

“That’s not to say you will face difficulties many would describe as ‘hell’ at U.A. And neither does my previous statement imply U.A is not ‘hell’.” He paused. “Do excuse my roundabout mannerisms of speech. It is a bad habit of mine.” Nezu chuckled.

“Simply put, I have taken a personal interest in you, Mr Monoma, for your cunning, your intellect, and your quirk. Report to me after your first day of school. We will talk more then. Congratulations once more. Another letter will arrive tomorrow to inform you of the minutiae regarding your inception into U.A. Good day, Neito Monoma.”

The holographic faded out, and Neito was staring at a blank wall for a few seconds trying to process whatever Nezu had said.

A buzz from his phone pulled him out of his hazy thoughts. He is...really smart.

It was from Kendo. “Hi, Monoma, It’s Kendo! The girl with big hands. Wanted to ask you whether you received the letter from U.A.”

He typed a response. “Yeah, I got a letter. What’s your verdict?”

Fingers crossed.

She responded, “I got in. >< You?”

A smile spread across his face. “Same, that’s awesome. Congratulations.”

“YAY! :D We both did it! Congrats too! And I was so shocked that All Might was in the video! I nearly cried. Or maybe I did, idk. Sorry, I’m babbling at this point, but I don’t have anyone else to tell this to until my parents get home and I’m so hypeddd”

Huh? All Might? So Nezu specifically…

He typed, “It’s ok, I’m excited too. Though I don’t express it over text that much.”

“Haha it’s ok. Can’t wait for the letter tomorrow. There’s so much to do! Hero costume, uniforms, books, all that. And term starts a month from now. Can’t wait!”

“Wow, how’d you know all this?”

“Mainly from the internet. I was that hyped, y’know?”

He cracked another smile from her enthusiasm. It was oddly contagious, and he found himself more zealous to go to school. That was a statement he’d never think he could formulate in his mind. “I see. That’s cool.”

“Btw, if you wanna go celebrate with your family or friends, go ahead! I don’t wanna hold you back.”

“Nah, my parents are at work and I’m basically alone at home. Same boat as you. So, fire away.”

“Ah, ok!”

The conversation continued with Kendo gushing about their new life, and Monoma passively followed along, inserting a few comments here and there. But he didn’t feel like he was stuck at a family reunion forced to endure his grandfather’s stories with a placating smile and affirming nods peppered in occasionally. She was actually interesting, and amusing, in a good way.

The topic was centered around school and academics, with little butting into personal lives, and Monoma didn’t pry. She was still a stranger, somewhat, albeit she would be his new schoolmate – and perhaps classmate. He crossed his fingers again, hoping that Fate would tap him lightly on the head once more with her providence.

He smiled when Kendo typed, “Hope we become classmates :D. Apparently there are always 2 first-year classes. So it’s basically a coin flip.”

“Heads.”

“Rly? Do you always choose heads?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m more of a switcher.”

“How do you decide when to choose heads or tails then?”

“Coin flip.”

“That made me laugh, thank you.”

“Why do you need to thank people for making you laugh? It’s a spontaneous thing.”

“That’s...oddly profound.”

“Or just a dumb statement made to sound fancy. Ah, sorry, I have to go now. But thank you for your time. It was great chatting :)”

“Why do you need to thank people for chatting with you? It’s a spontaneous thing. Joking aside, thank you too.”

“Nice haha” Was her last message. Neito turned his phone off and lied down on his bed. A moment passed, and Neito took a coin from his study desk. It was a silly thing to do, but his room was his stage. He was performing for himself.

He gave it a toss and caught it.

Seeing the result, he grinned.

–––––––

Yeek, this took longer than it should have, sorry. Had a bit of writer’s block when it came to planning this thing and I wasn’t sure how to move on. Also the tone of this is especially terrifying for me because it’s definitely going to be (ironically) more light-hearted, with Monoma’s dramatic language and (side thoughts) occasionally inserted, but that brings the challenge of need. When to do that, when not to. This story is a personal challenge to change my narrative style just slightly.

Anyway, I hoped you MonoKendo ppl liked it. A lot of people have told me it’s unfortunate the ship lacks content and I couldn’t agree more. But then again, that’s about 75% of the ships out there. (Fk it, 90%). So, here’s my contribution, alongside some other one-shots.

Feedback’s appreciated :D

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tss-ragnarok-au · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1

Warnings: Blood, takes place just after a traumatic event, a few death mentions and jokes about dying, swearing

Word Count: 1,532 (I’m trying to keep the chapters relatively short so I can get them out on a regular basis)

Author’s Note: This has been a long time in the works. I’m kind of emotional sharing it, but don’t mind me. Welcome, and enjoy!

Generally, when your best friend shows up at your door, you don’t want them to be covered in blood. With this in mind, you can imagine that Logan was not entirely pleased when his best (and only) friend appeared exactly as such.

Up until that point, it had been your average apocalyptic Tuesday. Logan had been following his to-do list, which was most likely the only thing keeping him sane on his own. His family had decided to follow the theory most widespread on the internet and split up. If there weren’t so many humans in one place, maybe all the monsters wouldn’t notice them. This theory wasn’t scientifically proven, but then again, neither were any of the others. Scientists didn’t exactly have the… resources required to perform such experiments, and, because all of the mail had been shut down, they couldn’t keep accurate records of who lived, who died, or how. But with the internet mostly still up and running the Ateneos had scraped up the data from the most reliable resources they could find and run with it. Literally.

Logan’s father took his little sister Mercedes about a few thousand miles Northwest, his mother had taken Logan’s abuelo South, and last he’d heard they were still moving until they found someplace safe to settle for a while. Logan had been left to look after their little house. His family had figured they were going to give him a little more independence when he turned seventeen anyways. Odd how such things tend to work out. The airlines shut down the day after his birthday, so his family had stayed until the last moment they could, which ended up being around 10:47 a.m. and left him there. Alone. But it was okay, because Logan had his log and his to-do list.

Tuesday, July 2nd: To Do

Wake up (approximately 6 am)

Eat breakfast (1 slice of toast, 1 egg)

Read (at least 2 chapters, no more than 4 chapters)

Call Mami (remember to ask about her whereabouts, location apps still down)

Eat lunch (one serving, no matter what)

Paint (use moderation)

Send Mercedes a picture (yourself and/or the painting) and make sure her mental state isn’t suffering too much

Update Log

Check in with Patton (via text, see if he can come over tomorrow)

Practice Archery (set the net up first so you don’t lose arrows, be alert and aware of your surroundings)

Eat dinner (again, one serving exactly)

Research/practice knife techniques

Go to bed (approximately 10 pm, no bluelight after 9:30)

This had been going perfectly right up until it hadn’t. He’d gotten out the bread and peanut butter and had the raspberry jelly in his hand when a quick, loud knocking interrupted his lunch preparations. He held the jelly jar at an angle from which it could be easily used as a weapon and warily unlocked and opened the door.

That is when Logan Ateneo found what appeared to be his best friend splattered with something red that was most certainly not his beloved Crofters.

“Patton?” he asked warily. His friend’s eyes and smile were just a bit too wide and his skin was a bit too pale.

“Uhh..Last summer we rode the ferris wheel, I asked you what a cephalopod was and you told me all about them. When we were at the top you almost dropped your phone showing me a video of a mimic octopus.”

Logan didn’t have the best memory and Patton was speaking irregularly fast, but the absolute terror of his precious cell phone dancing nearly out of his grasp over a 213 foot drop, as well as the opportunity to talk about his beloved cephalopods had burned the incident into his mind. He stepped aside and let Patton in. One day Logan was sure he was going to wholeheartedly believe his friend was a shapeshifter or the other way around because his memory was such absolute garbage. That was how he would die. He opened his mouth to ask about… well, about a lot of things, but Pat spoke before he got the chance.

“I’m really out of it, and I can’t tell if I’m about to cry or puke but oh lord, one or the other is coming so I’m gonna try to get this all out before it happens. Okay? Okay. So I think maybe zombies or like, beta mer-zombies just attacked my house, I have no freaking clue where most of my family is, I’m like 90% positive they’re coming this way next, uhh I’m pretty sure you can drive and I can’t, and we gotta get out of here.”

Logan took a moment to mentally unpack all of that.

“Wait, the zombie creatures are coming now? As in at this exact moment?”

“Pretty sure”

“Then could you please explain why we’re still standing here?” Before waiting for an answer, Logan grabbed his dopey friend by the arm, making a mental note to figure out why he was acting this way later, and pulled him along as they ran to the car.

He couldn’t see anything as he rushed past, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He shoved Patton haphazardly into the passenger’s side before nearly breaking his own leg slamming the door as he slid into the driver’s seat. He reached over and buckled Patton’s seatbelt after his own as his friend stayed frozen in place. A distant growl made the hair on the back of Logan’s neck stand up. He hit the gas and everything from there was more or less a blur.

***

It wasn’t until they were on the highway that Logan calmed down a little and Patton brought up an excellent question.

“Hey Lo… Where are we going?”

Logan hadn’t thought that far ahead. He didn’t dare pull over but he let himself drop his laser focus for a moment to think about the answer. He was silent for a while. Then, a very… interesting idea came to mind.

“My uncle’s cabin in the woods.”

“That sounds like we’re gonna die.”

“Odds are, we’re going to die anyways. I am entirely serious. It’s out in the middle of nowhere, fairly distant, there are plenty of resources in a pinch, my uncle left a long time ago, and the last person there was his ex, who dropped off the map a few months ago.”

“You do realize how ominous that is, right?”

“Do you keep in touch with your relatives’ ex-boyfriends?”

“Eh….” It was clear Patton had drifted off again. Logan switched lanes to head towards the cabin, but his mind was working much faster, trying to figure out if Patton had some kind of rune cast on him, or if he’d perhaps suffered head trauma, or-

“Oh. I see.” Logan realized. He waited a moment for a response. His friend continued to stare out the car window, his fingers twitching in half-minded fidgets. “Pat?”

“What?”

“You’re in shock.”

“Huh. Wait-I thought…” The gears started turning in his head, “I thought you got that from wearing socks on the carpet…”

Patton then proceeded to burst into tears.

With the reading Logan had done on psychological shock, that was to be expected, as all of Patton’s emotions that he’d disconnected from had come flooding back with the realization. This information did not, however, give Logan an adequate way to deal with the situation.

He settled for awkwardly patting his friend’s hand and respectfully looking away.

***

Patton’s crying slowed to a sniffle just as Logan pulled the car from the paved road to a bumpy dirt path. They sat in silence for a while, bouncing over the rocks.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t lie to me.”

“Shit happened, I don’t think I can process it right now.”

This caused Logan more concern than the crying. Patton only swore when he really didn’t feel good.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Patton didn’t respond.

“Is,” Logan became quieter as he began to realize the severity of what had happened at Patton’s house, “Is everyone okay?��

Patton bit his lip and slowly shook his head. He hesitantly held out his hand, and Logan laced his fingers through Pat’s.

Squeeze.

They stayed like that until the gravel driveway crunched under their wheels. It led to what appeared to be a very nice cabin that had been left to suffer by Nature’s hand. Ivy covered one wall entirely, and had begun creeping across the front and back of the house. Moss crawled over the roof. Logan could spot at least three bird’s nests in various nooks and crannies. And that was just the outside.

Patton stared at it for a moment. Just as Logan thought he was about to remark something about the beauty of nature reclaiming and building upon what humanity had made of it he said,

“How fricking rich was your uncle? This thing is huge.”

Logan had just opened his mouth to respond when a howl swept through the trees, sending a shiver through his entire body.

“Perhaps, discussing things inside would be better?”

“I always have wanted to die in a cabin in the woods!”

Asks are now open for Logan and Patton!

#tw blood #tw death mention #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides au #ragnarok!patton #ragnarok!logan #ragnarok au #ragnarok fic

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bytheangell · 4 years

Text

Before You Came Into My Life...

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Drunken Confession for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Lorenzo Rey/Andrew Underhill Rating: Teen and Up – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: Before they got together Andrew spent a month pining after Lorenzo frequenting a karaoke bar and singing the same song week after week. After Alec hints at it, Andrew decides to let Lorenzo in on those long weeks with an encore performance.

----------------------------------------- “You’re drunk, dear” Lorenzo states, reaching out to steady Andrew when he spins away from the pool table victoriously only to immediately lose his balance.

It isn’t an accusation, there’s no judgment there, he just wants Andrew to be aware because they’re out in public and there are quite a few other Shadowhunters around. And while there’s nothing wrong with throwing back a few drinks and unwinding in a public setting, Lorenzo has decades of experience embarrassing himself in front of people he must deal with professionally later.

“I am not,” Andrew states matter-of-factly.

“If you say so,” Lorenzo concedes, deciding it isn’t worth pushing.

“You’ll know when I’m drunk,” Andrew continues conspiratorily.

“And how will I know that, Angel?” Lorenzo prompts.

“Mmmmm I’d tell you but I’m not drunk,” Andrew says, smirking victoriously.

Though it kills him not to try and pry the information out of him Lorenzo opts for a different tactic, waiting until Andrew excuses himself to go to the bathroom before making his way over to Alec.

“Andrew says I’ll ‘know when he’s drunk’. I don’t suppose you know what that means?” Lorenzo asks, trying to sound as casual as possible as if this were just a normal chat between friends and not an information-gathering mission.

To Lorenzo’s surprise, Alec snorts out a laugh. Andrew may not be drunk but Alec is, because he only ever snorts when he’s drunk, a fact he got from Magnus which comes in surprisingly handy just then. It looks like he’s going to get his answer after all.

“Oh, you mean you haven’t seen him hit embarrassing karaoke level?” Alec asks, shaking his head. “You’re in for a treat.”

Lorenzo’s eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Karaoke? He sings when he’s drunk?”

“Oh yeah. And after he met you he had one song, in particular, he did, like, every Monday night we went to this mundane bar and he tried to get drunk enough to work up the courage to ask you--”

“THAT’S ENOUGH OF THAT,” Andrew cuts Alec off upon returning to hear what they’re talking about.

Alec winces but doesn’t actually look sorry. “Oh, was I not supposed to tell him that? Sorry. But if we all had to be subjected to Call M-”

“We’re leaving now, bye!” Andrew cuts in again, this time grabbing Lorenzo by the hand and pulling him away from Alec. Lorenzo, satisfied with what he found out, allows Andrew to lead him away, but not before mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to Alec over his shoulder.

The rest of the night passes by without much fanfare - it’s late and they both stop drinking to sober up enough to avoid hangovers for the early morning they both have scheduled the next day, full of long institute meetings and trips to clients halfway across the world and back.

The day goes by excruciatingly slow until they’re both finally free for dinner. It seems like a normal enough date, except for the fact that Lorenzo continually orders refills for their drinks the moment Andrew’s is under halfway, so by the time he finishes there’s already another waiting.

Andrew, stressed and venting about some new recruit who nearly botched an entire mission and some kids who think he doesn’t know they sneak out at night, doesn’t even notice until the food is long gone and a 4th cocktail is being placed in front of him.

“Why don’t we go that bar you used to tell me about… you know, the mundane one you used to go to with Lightwood and the others once and a while?” Lorenzo suggests in a would-be casual tone, except even this close to drunk Andrew can tell something is suspect.

“You mean the ‘filthy hole in the wall full of tone-deaf drunks’?” Andrew questions, throwing the words Lorenzo once uttered the one time they did try to go there, except the moment Lorenzo walked inside and got one look at the place he immediately convinced Andrew to go to the Hunter’s Moon instead.

“Yes, well, it’s time I broaden my horizons,” Lorenzo tries to recover.

Andrew squints at him suspiciously, eyes narrow, saying nothing while he holds Lorenzo’s gaze. And then-

“YOU’RE TRYING TO GET ME DRUNK!” The revelation hits Andrew and the words come out much too loudly for the small restaurant they’re in. Eyes turn their way and Lorenzo winces before shifting his features into a reassuring smile at the people dining around them.

“Keep your voice down,” Lorenzo whispers frantically.

“Not unless you admit it,” Andrew says, arms crossed.

“I most certainly will not-”

“Then I won’t agree to go.”

Lorenzo pauses in the middle of flagging the waiter down for the bill.

“What?” He asks, the word slow and careful.

“Admit this was your plan the entire time, and you’re trying to get me drunk and drag me to the karaoke bar because Alec ratted me out last night.” Andrew says this all very matter-of-factly before adding, “And then we can go.”

“Fine. I was trying to get you drunk to trick you into going to that bar on karaoke night,” Lorenzo sighs.

“You could’ve just asked, you know,” Andrew points out, frowning and looking hurt. Lorenzo can’t tell if it seems so exaggerated because it’s fake or because he is, in fact, drunk.

“Would you have said yes?” Lorenzo asks.

“Dunno,” Andrew admits. “Probably not. Your plan was better.”

Lorenzo slides several large bills on top of the check stands, reaching an arm out for Andrew to take, but Andrew shakes his head and grabs his cell out of his coat pocket on their way out, dialing as they walk.

“Alec? Alec! It’s me, Underhill!” A pause. “Right, of course, you know who I am.” Another pause. “Yes, I am, in fact, drunk. And guess what? It’s karaoke time. A final encore. Bring anyone who isn’t out saving lives or whatever.”

Lorenzo loves this side of Andrew - the side that comes through when he just lets go of all the tension he holds with the weight of his Shadowhunter responsibilities. It turns out that, outside of work, Andrew is actually rather ridiculous, but in the best, most endearing way. And not just when he’s drunk, though it’s certainly emphasized when he is. Andrew brings out a more carefree, lighthearted side of himself that he enjoys very much while he’s around.

It isn’t far from where they are - Lorenzo knows because he planned it this way - so they walk through the light snow that starts to fall. It’s the start of February, and cold, though there’s a flush to both of their cheeks from the alcohol they had at dinner.

When they step inside the bar - just as dingy and terrible as Lorenzo remembers - they’re greeted by calls, a few cheers, and even a clap or two.

Or, more specifically, Andrew is greeted by those things.

“There he is!” “Told you he’d be back!” “If I have to hear that goddamn song one more time-” Most of it seems to be from the few employees there, but some of what have to be regulars at the bartop are clearly aware of Andrew as well. The bartender is a man who looks to be in his late 20’s, maybe early 30’s, with enough tattoos that the Shadowhunters wouldn’t look out of place if they came in here unglamoured and a mohawk that puts Bane’s to shame. It’s the last place he’d expect Andrew to have casual acquaintances, and the last sort of people he’d expect those acquaintances to be.

“Andrew!” The bartender says, smirking as he reaches under the counter and pops the cap off a beer without even asking before holding it out to him. “Thought we’d never see you again.”

Lorenzo watches it all in mild fascination, feeling a little like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe.

Andrew smiles, though for the first time since they left the restaurant it’s shy, almost hesitant. “Yes, well, things… happened. And then I had... other things to do besides come here, fill up on liquid courage, and then not use any of it.”

The bartender, as if finally noticing Lorenzo standing just slightly behind Andrew, eyes the warlock up and down once. “Is this ‘Other Things’?”

Andrew flushes, properly this time, and before either of them can say anything Alec and Jace come in through the door, huffing breaths of cold air, along with Simon, Isabelle, and Magnus. They crowd the bar for a round of drinks, Lorenzo orders a whiskey since he trusts nothing else.

Andrew, instead of drinking his beer, orders a shot and downs it in determination before turning back to Lorenzo.

“Please don’t break up with me for this,” Andrew says, placing a quick kiss on Lorenzo’s lips before spinning back around, grabbing the beer again, and making his way up to a microphone in the back corner of the bar.

“I’m sure you’ve all missed this every week,” he starts dramatically, and this time the cheers are much louder with the addition of Alec and the others. “As most of you know, I used to come here, drunk and pining, and what started off as a joke turned into a very, very sad tradition. However!” Andrew pauses dramatically to take a very long drink from his beer. “I got my call! And decided to retire with one last encore performance for the man who inspired it all.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” Magnus asks, coming up behind Lorenzo.

Lorenzo wonders if, perhaps, he made a mistake encouraging this. “No turning back now.”

“Okay, but I just want to set the scene: it’s fall, the two of you met once, at my wedding, and then Andrew pined after you for an entire month before you started going out. An. Entire. Month. Of us dealing with this because you didn’t talk to him again after the reception.” Magnus says.

“I was a little preoccupied--” Lorenzo tries to defend, but doesn’t get very far before the music starts up through the speakers: a fast beat, strings, maybe? And then-

“I threw a wish in the well, don’t ask me I’ll never tell, I look to you as it fell, and now you’re in my way-”

Andrew, if Lorenzo is being honest, does not have a voice meant for singing. He also doesn’t have a natural talent for dancing, and yet here he is, doing both in front of a room full of people. Lorenzo doesn’t recognize the song at all but it seems like someone one would hear on the radio these days, one of those Top 40 Pop songs he usually avoids. But it isn’t the music that catches his attention.

“Hey, I just met you! And this is crazy! But here’s my number,

so call me maybe?”

Complete with Andrew bringing his hand holding the beer up to his ear to mimic a cell phone, he sings the words over and over (and over and over, the song is very repetitive), and he gets a clear picture of why a drunk, pining Andrew might latch onto this particular song.

Lorenzo watches, not with the secondhand embarrassment he thought he might, but rather with a very intense fondness. He knew there was something there at the reception, obviously, but he had no idea Andrew was so taken with him from that one meeting. Not to this level. If he had…

“You took your time with the call

I took no time with the fall”

Well, if he had, he may not have waited so long to call him. He actually feels a little bad now, but it’s a feeling that fades quickly as Andrew sings some more, pointing at Lorenzo and flashing a smile at him that brings a warmth to his chest. Lorenzo remembers why they’re here - because Lorenzo wanted to see it, and Andrew wanted to make him happy, and he’ll be damned if he isn’t going to stand there and give his boyfriend the attention he deserves.

This is just a drunken performance to the rest of them, but Lorenzo sees it for what it really is: a confession. A confession of a month between them meeting and Lorenzo calling him up for drinks. A month Lorenzo barely thought twice about, and though he never mentioned it that clearly wasn’t the same way Andrew had spent that month.

“Before you came into my life I missed you so bad, and you should know that… so call me maybe.”

The music ends and applause follows. Andrew gives a very exaggerated bow, and then another, before replacing the microphone to its stand and making his way back to Lorenzo.

“An entire month of that, eh?” Lorenzo asks, immediately sliding his arm around Andrew’s waist to pull him in. “Our first meeting meant that much to you?”

“You meant that much to me,” Andrew says, allowing Lorenzo to pull him closer until there wasn’t any space left between them. “Still do.”

Lorenzo melts a little at the confession. “You mean that much to me, too.”

“Are you going to dedicate a song to me too, then?” Andrew asks, swaying a bit back and forth where they stand as he asks.

Lorenzo laughs. “Mmmm, I don’t think I know anything they’d have here. But I could give you a more private performance that might convince you,” Lorenzo says, deepening his voice to a low whisper in Andrew’s ear.

Andrew steps back immediately. “Well, that was fun, but we have to get going now,” Andrew says to the others in a rush, already pulling at Lorenzo’s hand to follow him towards the door. “Hope you enjoyed the show!”

Lorenzo gives their confused looks an unconvincing shrug before following, opening a portal the second they round the corner to the alley next door. Andrew turns around and goes through the portal backward, hands reaching out to pull Lorenzo in for a searing kiss, trusting him to take them exactly where they need to be without even looking.

Andrew, who waited for him to come around. Andrew, who keeps him humble and grounded and happy. Andrew, who is everything he’s been missing in his life for so long and never realized.

As they tumble out of the portal and directly onto their bed Lorenzo is grateful for the love he sees in Andrew’s sparkling eyes - and there’s no ‘maybe’ about how thankful Lorenzo is that he has Andrew in his life now.

#andrew underhill #lorenzo rey #reyhill #shadowhunters #ShadowhunterBingo #alec lightwood #magnus bane #listen this started off as a crack!fic #then i gave it some feels #and I just love them so much okay #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

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kiwi-stan · 5 years

Text

Sliding into Home

This isn’t really part of the my firsts series but I wanted to write about the reader losing their virginity to Harry so here we go! This is smutty and also the title is a pun because I have not grown out of the bases sexual metaphor. As always feedback is welcome!

You’d had the countdown on your phone since he left, and you’d watched eagerly as it got down to under twenty, then single digits, then one and finally zero. After three months on the road, Harry was finally coming home from tour. You’d missed him terribly, and on his first night back you planned on showing him just how much. After a lot of thought, a lingerie purchase, and extensive waxing, you were ready to lose your virginity to Harry. When you received the, “Just landed, on my way home” text, you set the final phase of your plan into action. You finished your makeup and lit some candles in the bedroom and before you knew it you heard the door opening. “Y/N?” You heard Harry call.

“Bedroom!” You yelled back, arranging yourself on the bed in what you hoped was a sexy position. You heard footsteps on the stairs before Harry appeared in the doorway, his eyes landing on you immediately. He didn’t make any move toward you. Were your intentions not clear even with you nearly naked in bed? “I thought about it a lot while you were gone. I’m ready.” You told him, thinking he might just need a little nudge.

Harry sighed deeply, his eyes dark and sad, not consumed with lust like you’d hoped. Your stomach dropped. You finally decide you’re ready to have sex, and the guy isn’t even attracted to you. “Y/N, it’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you. I do. I’ve wanted it since we met. Not that that’s the only thing I wanted but-” Harry cut himself off, realizing he was making things worse. “You look gorgeous and if I weren’t coming off a major tour I’d worship you like you deserve. It’s just I’m exhausted and all I really want is to eat and cuddle. And I don’t want your first time to be bad just because I’m not in the right place for it. You deserve better than that.” He settled himself on the edge of the bed as he spoke.

“Oh.” You said, experiencing conflicting feelings. You were happy that he was turning you down for that reason and not because he didn’t find you unattractive, but you felt incredibly stupid for your poor planning. “I didn’t really think how you’d be feeling. I’m sorry. If I’d been thinking more-”

Harry cut you off with a gentle kiss, an I-missed-you kiss, not a let’s-bang kiss. “Don’t apologize. Like I said, any other time this would have been perfect. And you couldn’t have predicted how I would be feeling.”

You nodded, still not quite able to shake the feelings of rejection despite Harry’s explanation. Seeming to pick up on this he continued. “I swear I’m more attracted to you than I’ve ever been. But if we do anything tonight I might fall asleep in the middle of it.” You giggled at the image. “I want your first time to be good, not when I’m half dead coming off an international flight. You deserve better than that. But I definitely plan on having you lay back for me and take my cock one day soon, okay angel?”

You shuddered a little bit at the pet name and his words. “Okay.” You nodded again, feeling better. Harry kissed you again, another sweet and gentle kiss that made your toes tingle. Once again, he didn’t let it go on for very long, pulling away from you before things could get too heated.

“Did you say you were hungry?” You asked, as Harry got to his feet and started unpacking.

“Starving. Could really go for a grilled cheese.” He said.

You got to your feet, taking the hint. “On it. Just let me change first.”

“What? No? I like this outfit!” Harry protested.

You smiled, knowing that at least he liked it. “We’ll save it for another time.” You quickly slipped into a more comfortable pair of panties and one of Harry’s old T-shirts, your typical sleep attire. You made Harry a grilled cheese like he’d asked, then the two of you spent the night cuddled up in bed together discussing the tour and what you had done while he was gone, until he fell asleep mid-conversation with his face buried in your neck.

You woke to Harry pressing kisses up and down your neck. “Hey.” You said, barely awake.

“Hi.” Harry responded, his lips still fixed on your neck. “What we were going to do last night?” He said, the sentence coming out like a question, asking if you remembered. You hummed in acknowledgement. “Are you still up for it?”

Your eyes flew open, suddenly feeling as awake as if you’d taken an espresso shot. “Right now?”

“No time like the present.”

“H, I had a plan. Lingerie, chocolate covered strawberries. I wanted to make it good for you.”

“Don’t care. Want you now. It’ll still be good for me.”

You sighed. Last night you’d been all dolled up, hair perfectly styled, make up perfectly applied, lingerie so sexy you’d blushed as the cashier at Victoria’s Secret rang it up. Now...you were in one of Harry’s old t-shirts, which swallowed you and didn’t do your figure any favors. The only makeup you had on was the tiny bit of eyeliner you hadn’t been able to get off before you went to bed last night, and your hair was a mix of bedhead and last night’s curls. And yet, Harry was more attracted to you than he’d been last night.

Sensing your hesitation, Harry pulled back. “Love, if you really don’t want to do this now, we don’t have to. No pressure, like always. If you want to have your chocolate covered strawberries and candles and whatever you had planned whenever you want, but I just want you to know that whenever we do it it’ll be special for me. The fact that it’s the two of us together is special and the fact that you’re trusting me with this is even more special.”

You sighed again. You’d wanted your first time to be the cliche candlelit, romantic experience, but Harry was right. Just the fact that he was going to be the one taking your virginity was special enough, and you knew that he would make the experience amazing even without all the frills. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it. Then we can eat the strawberries for breakfast.”

You hadn’t really been expecting him to go for that, you’d figured he would insist on green juice or something instead. But, to your surprise, Harry pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, and said, “That’s my girl,” as he pulled away.

Harry kissed you again, this time letting the kiss deepen, his tongue slipping into your mouth. His hands slipped up your shirt, still pleasantly warm from being wrapped around you and pressed against your body heat as you slept. His fingers were bare, his rings sitting in the little dish on the nightstand where he’d left them before he passed out last night.

His hands reached the top of your ribs, just below your breasts. He pulled away. “You’re sure you want this?”

“Positive.”

With the enthusiastic confirmation that you were into it, Harry reached down to pull your shirt over your head. Though you and Harry hadn’t had sex yet, you’d done other things together and you had long past moved past your fear of being naked in front of him. Even though Harry had performed in front of supermodels and partied with some of the most beautiful women in the world he still looked at you like you were the most perfect thing on the planet.

Harry kissed along the valley of your breasts, his lips working all over the newly exposed skin. “Harry,” You whimpered. Your cheeks flushed. Harry had done this all before, but suddenly it all felt much more intimate knowing what the two of you were about to do. You were already pretty much a wreck.

“I know sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.” Harry assured you, pulling away from you enough to look you in the eyes.

Harry had loved on you like this before, he knew exactly where to kiss to drive you insane. He pressed a few extra kisses to your hips while murmuring how gorgeous you are, since he knew that you were insecure about the stretch marks there. He moved back up and left a love bite on your breasts, knowing that you didn’t like them where people can see.

Harry brought his lips back to yours for another kiss, which you sank into immediately. You realized what he was doing, starting off with familiar things to make the new act seem not so scary, and you loved him for it.

When he pulled away, his hands traveled downward, running along your skin until they reached the waistband of your panties. He glanced up at your, eyes meeting yours. He waited for you to nod before he removed them. Once again, this was all familiar territory, but Harry was still moving slowly, as if it were all new to you. And it all felt slightly foreign, knowing that you were going to be losing your virginity tonight. Even without you saying anything, Harry seemed to understand.

He pulled away again, lacing one of your hands with his. “I think I’m gonna eat you out first. Mainly because I want to,” At that you smiled. You’d heard horror stories from your friends about guys who didn’t like to go down on girls, or who did but were horrible at it. Harry had once told you he could spend all day between your legs if you were to let him, and he was amazing at it. “But it’ll also make the next part easier. Does that sound good to you darling?”

“Perfect.” You said. With that, Harry kissed you again, this time keeping it a little shorter. You smiled as Harry pulled away, knowing that he was eager to get between your legs. Harry pushed your legs farther apart, his touch gentle as always. He kissed along your inner thighs first, knowing that it drove you crazy, and that that was another area you were insecure about and appreciated it when he gave a little extra love.

“Harry, can you please not tease?” You said, when you got tired of him being down there without his tongue in your pussy.

Harry poked his head up, letting you see the glimmer in his eyes and the big grin on his face. He was loving this. “Since today’s your day…” He let the sentence dangle, his tongue now otherwise occupied. If music didn’t work out, Harry could make a killing teaching a class on eating pussy. His technique was flawless, and the fact that he’d been teasing you and winding you up for a while now just made it even sweeter. He started slowly, like he was savoring tasting you, just little licks that already had you moaning after the earlier teasing. You cried his name, amazed that he could have you melting beneath him in mere minutes. You could already feel the knot in your stomach building. As if sensing this, Harry started working harder, resting one of his large hands on your stomach to keep you still.

Before you knew it you could feel yourself coming. Harry sat up and rubbed your thigh as you road out the orgasm. When you and Harry had first started messing around you’d mentioned how coming like that was a vulnerable experience for you and you weren’t exactly good at the whole being vulnerable thing. Since then Harry was always careful to be a little extra caring while you came down, even though you were so comfortable around him now you had largely moved past it.

Once he was sure that you were okay, Harry moved up to kiss you, as tasting yourself was something that you had discovered that you were into. Pulling away after a few moments of heated kissing, Harry was quick to check on you. “Are you alright my, love?”

You nodded, feeling the safe and warm feeling that Harry making you come always gave you washing over you. Harry gave you a few more moments to come down before kissing you again. “Ready for what comes next?” He asked when he pulled away.

“You don’t want me to…” You trailed off, letting your eyes drift downward to where you could see the outline of Harry’s hard cock beneath his boxers and hoped he would get the hint. Though you and Harry had been together for a while, you still got nervous talking about sex with him.

“This is about you” He told you. “There’s plenty of time for that later. We do have all day.” You had almost forgotten it was early in the morning. You’d always pictured yourself losing your virginity at night, once you’d decided you wanted your first time to be with Harry you had a vision of waiting for him to come home and giving yourself to him. It almost felt weird for it to be happening this early in the morning.

“We do.” You repeated, signaling your acceptance to him. Harry slid his boxers off, which again was nothing new. You’d sucked him off many times, though he’d had to teach you how to do that too. You’d seen his cock before, so you really only started to get nervous when he fished a condom out of a drawer on his bedside table. Then you were reminded of how this was different from all the other times.

“Still good?” Harry seemed to pick up on your nerves, pausing before he ripped open the foil package.

“Yes. I just all feels so...real all of a sudden. I guess that’s obvious though. It’s been real this whole time.” Despite the jitters, you knew you were ready for this and you wanted this to happen with Harry.

Harry kissed you again. “I understand. And I’m going to take care of you.” He told you when he pulled away. Watching your face for any signs of hesitation, he carefully lined himself up between your legs. “Tell me if you want me to stop. And tell me if it hurts. It shouldn’t. If it’s hurting we can stop there or I can prep you more and we can try again. Whatever you want.”

You nodded, loving how he laid out the plan, even including possible scenarios. You hated feeling left in the dark and he knew it. He slipped one of his hands into yours, supporting all of his weight with his other hand. He kissed you once more, a short and sweet kiss. When he pulled away, you felt him entering you, eyes fixed on you as he watched closely for any sign of discomfort.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yeah. It feels a little weird. Not painful though.” You told him truthfully, picking up one the deeper meaning behind his one word question. “You can go faster if you want.”

Knowing that you were okay, Harry started moving his hips a bit faster, which actually felt better. He was getting deeper inside you, hitting places he’d only used his fingers on before. You were already beginning to moan beneath him, your hands squeezing his tight. Your other hand gripped the sheets tightly. You’d seen porn before and you knew that the girls in the videos often left marks on the guy’s back, but you weren’t sure if Harry would be into that.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. You’re good?” Harry slowed his pace to check in on you, making you whine. He smirked at that, knowing that he was pleasing you.

“Feels good, H. Keep going. Please.” You pressed your other hand to his shoulder blade, half assuring him that you were okay and half urging him to continue. He listened, resuming his previous pace, now pressing kisses along your neck as well. You could feel yourself clenching around him and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you came.

Harry seemed to sense this as well, which didn’t surprise you. He’d been incredibly attentive to your body ever since the two of you first started being intimate, and even before then he always seemed to be able to read your body language perfectly. “You gonna come for me?” Harry murmured, his lips still against your neck. You couldn’t really respond, your only response being a cry of his name. Between him kissing your neck, consistently hitting your g-spot, and the fact that you had already come once made it impossible to say anything more. “That’s is baby,” Harry continued, sensing that you were right on the edge. “Show me I’m making you feel good.”

His words had you finally tumbling over the edge. You’d come before, but this felt different, somehow more intense, knowing that it was coming from Harry inside you instead of just his mouth or fingers. Your orgasm hit you harder than before, and it took you a little than usual to recover. By the time your toes uncurled and your heart rate was beginning to normalize, Harry had reached his own peak, crying your name and releasing into the condom before collapsing next to you.

You had a few moments to drink in the sight of him, lips full and parted, tattooed chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his cheeks flushed pink. “You okay?” He asked, ever mindful of you.

“Great.” You replied with a smile. Harry returned the smile, then got up to dispose of the condom.

When he settled back down next to you, he kissed you. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted it to be with anyone else.” You told him honestly. You laid with Harry for a few more moments, until you realized that you’d been up for nearly an hour and hadn’t eaten breakfast. You remembered your promise from earlier. “I do actually have chocolate covered strawberries.” You told him. “Want to have breakfast in bed?”

Harry was on his feet before you had even finished your sentence. “I would love to.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb

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