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firstelevens · 1 month

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No. 20 from the eras tour prompt list for sambucky ? ?

did I hear someone ask for a Sweet Home Alabama Louisiana AU? no? well I wrote the start of one anyway, so here it is

20. all your dirtiest jokes

Pebbles go flying as Bucky pulls his rental up in front of Sam’s house. He kind of wishes there was the satisfying screech of tires on asphalt to emphasize his mood, but he slams the car door twice as hard to make up for it, and feels just a little bit better afterwards.

Back when they were kids, the Wilsons’ place had been close enough to the neighbors’ houses to wave at them from the porch. The house that Sam bought when he came home from his first tour is set back a lot further than that, wooded where it doesn’t back up onto the water, so Bucky has no compunctions about getting a little shouty.

“Sam Wilson, I know you’re in there!” he calls out, walking up to the front door. “You can dodge my calls as long as you want, but I’m not going anywhere until you open up.”

It’s not a big house, and there’s at least three open windows, so there’s no question that Bucky’s voice is carrying through loud and clear, but there’s no response. Bucky raps sharply on the doorframe.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Sam. I know this town just as well as you do, and I will follow you everywhere.”

It takes another five minutes, but finally, Bucky sees a figure approaching through the frosted glass pane on the front door. When it swings open, he’s met with a bare-chested Sam Wilson, breathing heavy from a workout as he pulls his earbuds out of his ears.

For all that he was yelling a second ago, Bucky suddenly can’t seem to make words come out of his mouth. To add insult to injury, Sam seems perfectly unaffected by the sight of him, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Bucky Barnes,” he drawls, and Bucky hates how comforting that voice still is after all this time. “What can I do for you?”

In a second, the ire comes flickering back to life. The nerve of Sam, to ask that question when he knows perfectly well the only thing that Bucky’s been asking him for for the past year.

He holds up the envelope that’s the whole reason he had to drag his ass back here, a thousand miles and twenty years removed from home.

“You could start by giving me a fucking divorce.”

Bucky spent so long working himself up over this, back in New York and on the plane here and on the almost-two-hour drive from New Orleans. He’d written and rewritten a hundred different speeches, rehearsed so many arguments with the Sam in his head that he was sure he’d know exactly what to say.

But now he was here, and he’d gone and delivered what should’ve been the last line of his scathing speech way too early, and what more was there to do except stand there on Sam’s porch and glare at him expectantly?

Sam, for his part, looks at Bucky consideringly for a moment, then peers around him to look out towards the yard. “You should come inside,” he says, and then steps away, leaving the door open.

The petty part of Bucky wants to refuse, wants to make a nuisance of himself right here on the porch so Sam can’t ignore him, but then he stops to take in his surroundings for longer than a second. The air is thick, the heat more sluggish than it was when his flight touched down. Beyond the trees, the sky has gotten darker. It’s been a while since Bucky lived on the bayou, but the signs of an oncoming storm haven’t changed.

He huffs and steps into Sam’s house, closing the door behind him just as thunder rumbles in the distance. It’s cooler inside, at least, and as Sam moves further into the house, Bucky figures he’s supposed to follow. He’s still not completely over his need to be a nuisance—or so he tells himself—so he goes slowly, glancing around at the house that Sam bought long after Bucky wasn’t a part of his life anymore.

Bucky knows it’s a completely different building, but part of him still expects that it’ll be the house that Sam grew up in, all warm wood and quiet chaos. Somewhere in his head, he thinks that if he just went up that staircase in front of him, he’d end up in Sam’s childhood bedroom, sixteen years old and laid out on the floor with the boombox between them, laughing at the dirty jokes that Sam heard in senior calc or trying to figure out just what the deal was between their grade’s latest on-again, off-again couple.

But this isn’t that house, Bucky reminds himself, and this isn’t back then. He’s not looking to go back in time; he just wants to go forwards, and he could if Sam would just cooperate.

“What happened, you get lost in that hallway?” asks Sam, when Bucky finally makes it to the kitchen. He doesn’t bother answering, but Sam’s back is to him, so there’s no way to tell whether he’s even noticed. “Hey, cream and no sugar, right?”

“What?”

Sam turns around with a mug of coffee in his hand, and Bucky’s pretty sure he can’t hide how he immediately perks up when the cup is set in front of him. For a second, he thinks about telling Sam that he does take sugar now, just to be contrarian, but then he remembers he’d actually have to drink it and throws that plan out the window.

“This is fine, thanks,” he eventually says, setting the envelope on the island and picking up the coffee. He hasn’t had caffeine since before his flight this morning, and he can feel the first sip right down to his toes. His eyes actually close for a second, and when he opens them, Sam is back on the other side of the counter, looking amused. There’s no mug in his hands.

“You’re not having any?” Bucky asks. “What’d you do, poison it?”

Even if he did, Bucky’s not convinced he’d be able to put it down. It’s really good coffee.

“I will,” says Sam. “But my Mama would kill me if I entertained company like this, so I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home; the view’s nice from the family room if you missed the water.”

He breezes out before Bucky can argue, his footsteps thudding up the stairs between one sip of coffee and the next.

After a moment of looking around incredulously, waiting to see if maybe he’s being pranked, Bucky decides this is just Sam trying to annoy him into leaving, and he won’t let it work. He marches into the family room just as the rain starts in earnest, and just to spite Sam, he turns his back to the French doors and surveys the rest of the room. There’s art hanging up, intermingled with family photos. Lumpy ceramics that are definitely grade school art projects sit beside beautiful crystalline sculptures, tall and spiky and somehow familiar.

Along one of the walls is the credenza that Bucky recognizes from Sam’s parents’ house, the one that Mr. Wilson had hauled home from an estate sale and refinished just because Sam’s mother had lingered beside it for a few seconds longer than anything else. It’s a different color now than it was before, but Bucky would recognize it anywhere. Sitting on top of it are what Bucky guesses are the important photos: Sarah’s wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson on the boat together, Sam with a toddler beside him and a baby in his arms.

Furthest to the left is a picture of the dock behind the Wilson house. Two figures sit at the end of it, leaning into each other in the sunshine. One of them wears a t-shirt, gangly arms braced behind them. The other has a letterman jacket on, and that’s what tips Bucky off when he picks up the frame to look at it more closely: that’s him and Sam, sitting out where they did almost every day after school. Sam had gotten his varsity jacket for the baseball team when they were sophomores, and Bucky was pretty sure he’d worn it more often than Sam had. He’d always liked the way it felt on his shoulders, and when fall rolled around and the wind blew in a little cooler off the water, Sam always passed it over to him without needing to be asked.

They’d gotten a little more refined, once driver’s licenses were acquired and curfews were lengthened. Sam would drive the Wilsons’ old pickup truck a little ways out of town, to an empty plot of land flanked by trees on one side and water on the other, and they would sit and soak up the wind off the water until they could both breathe a little easier. Bucky had started thinking of it as their piece of the island, the safest place he could ever remember being.

When the future had barreled towards them with no signs of stopping, it was where Sam had driven them, nothing around but the birds in the trees when he quietly suggested his plan for getting out of Delacroix and taking Bucky with him. Nobody else had been around to see Bucky fling his arms around Sam’s neck and whisper a muffled yes into his shoulder, either: both of them a little bit scared of the future but determined to make it better for each other.

Maybe they can be reasonable about this. Maybe he and Sam can look at each other and see exactly what the other person needs, the way they did when they were younger. Maybe there don’t have to be questions and discussions and the kind of passive aggressive emails they’ve been exchanging through lawyers for the past year.

The rain is still coming down hard, lulling Bucky into a daze, so he can’t be blamed for the way he startles when Sam’s voice sounds from behind him. He scrambles to grab the picture frame before it falls out of his hands, setting it down and taking a beat before he turns around.

Sam is holding the envelope with the divorce papers in his hands, but Bucky has seen his ‘I give up’ face and that definitely isn’t it.

“The entire year that we’ve been going over this, I’ve asked you the same question, over and over, and you’ve never answered,” Sam says.

“Fuck,” says Bucky, scrubbing a hand down his face. “This? Again?”

“Yeah, again,” says Sam. “Because if I’m getting a divorce, I at least deserve to know why. I deserve to know what changed.”

“I have told you every single time you asked, Sam. Nothing changed. Nothing changed, because this was never a real marriage, and you know that. We got married so we could both get the fuck out of this town, and so I could stop being so terrified all the time, and we did that, and now we’re done.”

Sam crosses his arms, setting his jaw, and it occurs to Bucky that this is the first battle of a long war. “We did all that fifteen years ago, easy. That’s not what this is about. What changed, Buck?”

But Bucky can’t answer Sam any more now than he could the first time he asked that question a year ago. He can’t remind Sam of all the things he missed out on because he was tied to Bucky, he can’t bring up Riley or Sam’s parents or all the little ways that Bucky managed to steal things from him without even trying, because Sam would never see it. Even now, squaring off against each other with no possible middle ground, Sam would never see it, so Bucky can’t say it.

“Just sign the damn papers, Sam,” is what Bucky says instead.

It’s the first time he’s ever evaded the question in person. Somehow when he pictured Sam reading all those emails and messages he’d sent, Bucky had never imagined a flicker of disappointment on his face, gone as soon as it appeared.

Sam turns to set the envelope on an end table and picks up a wristwatch from beside it, doing up the strap before he turns around again. When he does, he’s got a determinedly cheerful smile on his face, the kind that Bucky has always known meant trouble.

“Gee, Buck, I wish I could, but as it happens, I’m running late for something,” he says, with an exaggerated look at his watch. “Maybe later?”

He’s already heading for the door, leaving Bucky to hurry after him. “What do you mean you’re late for something? Where the fuck are you going in a hurricane?”

Sam snorts. “You’ve been away too long. This is barely even a storm.”

An enormous crack of lightning punctuates his words, and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“It’s a drizzle,” says Sam, pulling on a jacket. “And I have a date.”

Bucky is not entirely prepared for the feelings that those words stoke in his chest, but worse still is what Sam calls out before the door swings shut behind him.

“Guest bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the left. Don’t wait up.”

He’s not entirely sure how much time he loses, fuming in the foyer of Sam’s house, but eventually, that rage sharpens into something else entirely as he remembers what he yelled out standing on Sam’s porch half an hour ago.

He knows this town just as well as Sam does.

He knows this town just as well as Sam does, and unless fifty years of corporate development hit Delacroix in the last fifteen, there’s only one place to take a date if you’re an adult who doesn’t want to get accosted by the entire senior population of the island over the course of your evening.

Bucky pulls his keys from his pocket and and umbrella from Sam’s coat closet. If Sam means to drag this out, Bucky’s going to make sure he feels every single second, until he decides for himself that this marriage is more trouble than it’s worth.

(And if, before he leaves, he swaps his comfortable traveling clothes for a short sleeved button down that’s a size too small and not buttoned enough, well, nobody ever said Bucky was perfect.)

#sambucky #ok admittedly i lied emma did in fact cheerlead the writing of this and encourage me the whole way but what's new #this is truly just like. the opening half a chapter of this au but I have THOUGHTS #to be clear the rest of it is never getting written unless a miracle occurs #but here have this nonsense on the occasion of bonky's birthday #zainab does ask meme things #taylor swift prompt fics

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clarabowmp3 · 5 months

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I’m sorry I genuinely cannotttttt understand how some ppl bash joe even in a joking manner. Like the poor guy did nothing wrong (that we know of) but so many ppl are making such snide remarks by comparing him to Travis which is not only condescending but actually kind of mean! HELLO did we listen to the same reputation album??? You can’t praise Travis for letting Taylor bejeweled and then rip joe to shreds in the same breath when joe was the one there for her in a clearly difficult and trying time in her life

#the ripping to shreds is a little exaggerated cuz there’s not that much vitriol behind it #but I just find the callous attitude to be so disgusting and insincere #like the love for Travis is sooo much rn I can’t imagine ppl hating him if they broke up #but I couldn’t imagine that for joe either #and another thing I think has to do with how public they are which is fine #but because ppl see so much physical proof of Travis being loving it somehow automatically proves joe wasnt #he was a private man! let him be!!#and if that wasn’t smth Taylor liked/struggled with she dealt with it like the grown woman she is #I’m not saying she didn’t face any kind of emotional stress in that r/ship #but if she did/going off of her songs she dealt with it like an adult #and now that chapters closed and ofc we can still talk abt joe but the subtle menace towards him is sooo immature #like some ppl rlly need to grow up/touch grass #and I’m not hating on travis like him not being there in 2016 is not a dig towards him #it’s just pointing out who WAS there which a lot of ppl seem to be forgetting #joe alwyn #travis kelce #taylor swift

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makemywholeblogshimmer · 6 months

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*The Archer got close to the top 30 on hot 100 at 38 so ill let it count for this poll and AOTGYLB while not on Lover proper it was considered for the album and was on the More Lover Chapter EP as a Promo single debuting high at 12 so i'll let this one count too ☺️☺️

Vote for your fave, reblog & share your thoughts in the tags ☺️☺️

Check out my masterpost for the other singles polls there's still some time left to vote in the Speak Now poll and the others (Red-Rep) are still open ☺️☺️

Thank you everyone and have fun and hope everyone is having a great 1989 TV release day ☺️☺️

#taylor swift #taylorswift #lover #tumblr polls #swiftie polls #swiftie for life #hit songs #ME!#brendon urie #panic at the disco #you need to calm down #shawn mendes #the man #cruel summer #the archer #all of the girls you loved before #more lover chapter #swifties #favorite singles

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thediamondarcher · 8 months

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heartstopper (comic) chapters as Taylor Swift songs

#heartstopper #heartstopper comics #heartstopper comic #taylor swift #taylor swift songs #osemanverse #alice oseman #this is only my opinion btw #i had such a hard time choosing the one for chapter 6 😭#also sorry for the quality idk why tumblr hates me lol #heartstopper alice oseman

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hamsternamedmarinette · 6 months

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Monarch is defeated. Gabriel is dead. Nathalie is left to pick up the pieces.

But the pieces are mainly lies and secrets. Those things have always made life difficult for her.

---

New fic! New angst!!

#no promises regarding updates on this one unfortunately #i have it all planned for the most part but it's just a matter of having enough time to write #decided to post the first chapter anyway :)#my fic #but they lie #mom said it was my turn to write an ml fic with a taylor swift lyric title #мой пост

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sad-emo-dip-dye · 1 year

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There’s no morning glory, it was war, it wasn’t fair.

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sinnamonrollcat · 6 months

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And that's how it works,

That's how you get the girl.

#bro got that i need a haircut rizz #im so sorry 💀#aot memes #snk memes #taylor swift lyrics #aot shitpost #shitpost #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #aot spoilers #aot special 2 #aot final chapters special 2 #aot last episode #my posts #sinnaspeaks

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kempt · 1 year

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“Hello?” Damianos grumbled, still half-asleep as he leaned his head on the pillow again, the phone on top of his ear. He grimaced when he heard the amount of noise coming from the other side of the line, “Hello?” he tried again, louder this time.

“Damen, my guy!” Auguste yelled, “Damen, Damen, Damen! I need you to come here now, my friend, right in this moment,”

Damianos grimaced one more time, propping himself up as he noticed that he probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again as soon as he wanted. He rubbed his face with his free hand, holding the phone a few inches away from his ear, there really was a lot of noise where Auguste was, “What’s going on?”

“Laurent is– dear God, easy now, Loulou, Damen is on his way,” Auguste went on talking, the music fading away in the background. He heard Laurent’s voice, slow and groggy, “No, please,” and then Auguste crooning, “Yes~”

“He clearly doesn’t want me there,” Damianos said, his eyebrows snapping up, “Have you tried calling Aimeric? Or Ancel, even?”

“For God’s sake, Damianos,” Auguste scoffed, “Do you think those twinks would be able to carry him out of here? You overestimate them. And my night isn’t over yet, so get your ass over here right now,”

“Right,” Damianos sighed, hanging up. Those DeVeres. “I told you,” he heard Nikandros’ voice in his head.

He sadly said goodbye to his warm, fluffy bed, putting some pants on before walking out of his room – well, not only his, it was Laurent’s room too. He replayed their fight in his mind as he made his way to the parking lot, thinking now that it really had been such a silly thing to fight over, but had turned into a big argument anyways because Laurent had gotten so upset he accepted to go out with Auguste, which definitely was a bad sign, even if after he had said he was fine. He should have stopped him, but who could stop Laurent DeVere when he set his mind to something?

He arrived at the club within just a few minutes. Auguste was right in front of the building with Laurent by his side, the both of them sitting on the curb. Auguste waved at him when he stopped the car in front of them, but Laurent didn’t acknowledge his presence – maybe he was too drunk to do so. He quickly got out of the car and walked over to them, opening the backseat door so Auguste could get Laurent inside.

“You wish,” Auguste said when he turned to them. He helped Laurent up and just gently pushed his brother into Damianos’ arms, “Good night, lovebirds,” he said, waving and making his way back into the club. Damianos sighed, he should have expected something like this from Auguste. Apparently his brain was still slow from sleeping.

“Alright,” Damianos murmured to himself, wrapping his arms around Laurent, who grunted this time, annoyed with the movement, and rubbed his face against his chest. That sound allowed Damianos to smile a little bit.

He carefully guided Laurent into the backseat, watching him curl up like a cat before closing the door and going back to the driver’s seat. As soon as he started driving, Laurent started babbling incoherently.

“Laurent,” Damianos said, looking at him through the rearview mirror, “Laurent, are you okay?”

Then he heard that sound – a characteristic sound Laurent made when he was crying, like a sob. He slowed down and, incapable of stopping himself, turned his head to look at Laurent, watching as he pressed his face against his own shoulder. He looked forward again and stretched his hand to touch him, but got a slap in response. Laurent really was crying like a baby and all he wanted to do was stop the car and cradle him in his arms.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, sweetheart,” Damianos said, looking back at him again.

“Shut up,” Laurent murmured, hoarse, “You’re so stupid. Asshole.” he went on cursing in between sobs. Damianos shook his head to himself.

“Is this still about Jokaste?”

“Choke on that bitch’s name,”

Damianos scoffed and remained silent. He knew Laurent had long lost the capacity of staying quiet near him and it was only a matter of time until he started chattering. Laurent sat down abruptly, leaning his head on the window.

“I don’t want to talk about that anymore,” Laurent said, his voice sounding softer now, but it was clear that he had been crying. It made him sound fragile. Damianos nodded. “When we get home, I just want to curl up by your side and sleep all day,” he babbled. Damianos looked at him and he had his eyes closed again.

“Okay,” he said.

They were silent for a few minutes more and, just when Damianos thought he had fallen asleep, he heard Laurent’s voice again.

“I’ve loved you since we were kids, ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” he asked, casually as if he was talking about the weather, “And you keep– keep talking and talking about Jokaste, what am I supposed to do? Encourage you? Again? I’m tired of this…” he was crying. Damianos reminded himself that he was still driving. “I’ve always been here, but you never see me, I’ve never been an option for you!”

“Laurent,” Damianos said, “You should try to rest now, okay? We’re almost home, then we can talk,” he looked back, “You will end up saying something you will regret later,”

“I regret meeting you,” Laurent murmured, then fell silent. Damianos sighed, he knew Laurent didn’t mean those words, but it still stung the same way.

They made it home after a few minutes. Damianos picked Laurent up to prevent him from hurting himself trying to walk. He grumbled and complained a lot, but didn’t say anything else and part of Damianos was grateful for that.

“I’m sorry I said that,” Laurent murmured against his shoulder. It sounded like he was crying again. He gently squeezed him, watching the floors go by. “I wasn’t… thinking,”

“That’s unusual,”

“Was I ever an option for you?” he asked, low and fragile, hesitant. Damianos had never heard him speak in such a tone.

“We’ll talk after you’ve calmed down a little,”

#purely and entirely based on cruel summer by our saint taylor swift #i really enjoyed writing this and HOPEFULLY (i really want to) i'll write more for it like a chapter two kind of moment yk #if the post is too big please tell me so i put a read more #lamen #captive prince #my writing #fanfic #damianos/laurent #damen/laurent #auguste of vere #laurent of vere #damianos of akielos

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alaynestcnes · 6 months

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the way my brain is so deluded i can find jonsa in anything. like i can’t scroll any social media without my brain being like wow. this is so 💞them💞

#like its an illness atp #but anyway wanted to share because this is So Them #jonsa #the way his eyes soften 😭😭😭#this is a scene in a 30 chapter slow burn domestic fic where jon’s mental state is just o fuck o fuck [taylor swifts labryinth plays louder]

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confused-much · 2 months

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I'm really insane and I will bill Gege for my therapy.

I've recently discovered "Safe & Sound" by Taylor Swift and it's such a nice song but you know what was my FIRST freaking thought?!

"Wow, this sounds like a good Satosugu song."

I don't even like half of Satosugu ship (my dislike for Geto is a topic for another conversation)!

But then I think this song is still a nice tribute to Gojo after chapter 236. Because now, he is safe and sound, right?

(pls Gojo come back next chapter, pls)

Anyway, I'm insane now, it's all Gege's fault and Taylor Swift has nice songs. I also love "Cardigan" with all my heart and I will die on that hill.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #gojo satoru #jjk chapter 236 #jjk gojo #when i catch you gege #Im insane and its gege fault #satosugu #jjk manga #taylor swift has nice songs #you will pay for my therapist gege #gojo pls come back

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cookies-over-yonder · 9 months

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i don't know how to say this, 'cause you're really my dearest friend

Five times Taylor and Link almost kissed, and one time they finally did.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | +1 | ao3

[title from Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) by Studio Killers]

1. The first time was after a fall.

☆

Taylor Swift is no stranger to coordination issues.

He manages to work his way around them with extra practice of wielding weapons, but sometimes it sneaks up on him.

Like right now.

Seemingly having tripped over nothing, Taylor falls forward and braces himself for impact.

The floor of Link's house is wooden, so Taylor can't even console himself by the idea of falling onto carpet. How did he slip? He doesn't know. It just happens. Sometimes no amount of training and practicing can prevent the air from sabotaging him.

And he knows it will hurt, because the floor is hard and it always hurts. It always hurts, but he recovers. But before he recovers, he's going to faceplant. He scrunches his face up, ready to hit the ground.

But then he stays suspended in the air.

"Are you okay?"

Taylor opens his eyes. Link is holding him by the arms and scanning his face with wide eyes.

Wide eyes… that are so close to his face.

Taylor feels a rush of heat coursing through him as he runs his gaze down Link's worried face, stopping at his lips.

They're pressed tightly together in concern, and then they're open, and saying something…

And Link is breathing, and Taylor can feel it on his face.

And Link says his name, and with the way the syllables sound on his tongue, Taylor feels like he's been put under a spell.

Hypnotized.

Enchanted.

And he says it again, and it's just as mesmerizing as before.

They're so close together. Only a sliver of space prevents them from making contact.

There's one thought plaguing Taylor's mind and making him feel like he could melt.

What it would feel like to close that gap…

Taylor finds his body moving without his permission, chasing the pull of Link's lips like a magnet.

"Taylor!" Link shouts, and Taylor's shoulders are shaking. Link is shaking them.

"Hu—uh… yeah?" Taylor asks, dazed. The gap is wider now—Link must have made him stand upright.

"I asked if you were okay and you didn't respond," Link's lips move fast. "You looked like you were about to pass out."

Taylor's face burns.

"I—uh, I'm fine—" he winces at the way his voice cracks. "Sorry. Thanks."

"You should sit down," Link says, guiding him to the couch, hands still on his shoulders. "I'll get you some water."

"Mm, yeah," Taylor says, only half-processing Link's words because his hands are still on his shoulders…

Once Link sits Taylor down and leaves his side to get water, Taylor buries his face in his hands. God, he really is burning.

"Here," Link says, sitting next to him. Taylor lifts his head and sees a glass of water being held out to him. He takes a sip.

"Thanks. Sorry, didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's fine, I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay. I have coordination problems sometimes. That's why I tripped. I'm not gonna faint or anything."

Probably not, he thinks. With the way Link is looking at him, nothing is off the table.

"Okay. Just… drink some water," Link says, and Taylor takes a sip. "You look really red."

Taylor chokes.

"Slowly," Link adds, patting Taylor's back as he coughs up water.

"Yep," Taylor says between coughs. "Got it."

Oh, god.

☆

#dndads #swiftli #fic #5+1 #taylor swift dndads #lincoln li-wilson #yes im giving taylor all of my disabilities including my motor skills disorder LMFAOOO #cuteness of them #this chapter is p short #i'm really excited about this fic though #shout out to happi for helping me brainstorm :)#^_^♡☆~!#cookies writes and cookies wrongs

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happi-tree · 10 months

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i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this)

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I don’t know what came over me, you’re just so hurt and I was so scared and I didn’t know what to do and -”

Link cuts himself off as he glances up from Taylor’s still-glazed expression to his forehead. Before his eyes, the gash stitches itself closed, the open wound fading to a pink scar that pales to white before disappearing entirely.

Lincoln remembers hearing the words “kiss it better” throughout his entire childhood. He remembers the way his dads would patch up his scraped knees with ointment and a bandage and top it all off with a tiny kiss before treating him to a hard candy from their first aid kit for being such a good boy.

Never once had Link thought that the phrase could be literal. Or that his newfound powers could make it literal.

Or: Link discovers a rather unorthodox way of using Lay On Hands thanks to one Taylor Swift, and for some reason, he can’t seem to stop finding excuses to perfect his new skills. Fortunately, Taylor is more than happy to help.

read on ao3

once / twice / thrice, pt. 1 / thrice, pt. 2

once (‘cause i know you had a long night)

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

They’ve just gotten out of combat at the Eleven-Seven on the edge of town thanks to yet another harebrained plan - this one in particular involving about 27 Large Swig™s’ worth of slushies, an ungodly misuse of pretzel warmers, and mentally begging the forgiveness of customer service employees everywhere.

Lincoln Li-Wilson stands over a puddle of goop, cleated foot planted firmly where the chest of the latest of the Doodler’s acolytes used to be. He smudges some flecks of dark, slimy sludge off his face with his shoulder.

God, that’s gonna be a pain to wash out. At least he didn’t wear his favorite jersey tonight.

Link can feel the final dredges of adrenaline coursing through his veins and knows that it’s only a matter of time before he crashes. He can’t let that happen yet, though, not after this tough of a fight. He brushes himself off and looks around the abandoned parking lot, trying to make out the forms of his friends by the hazy yellow-white light of a distant streetlamp.

Scary stands a short distance away, brandishing her knife and stabbing into the remains with extreme prejudice, targeting anything that still moves. Other than the bloodlust in her eyes and a broken nail, she doesn’t look too bad.

Normal looks a bit worse for wear, swaying a little on his feet. Even so, the air around his palms coalesces into a foggy white energy as he makes his way towards an injured Hermie (who had decided to tag along, for some reason that Link doesn’t particularly care about).

That leaves Taylor. Link knows he’d been injured pretty badly - a blow to the head, if he remembers correctly - and his anxiety only increases the longer it takes to find his silhouette in the blackness of sun-off.

Then, a pained wheeze sounds off from somewhere to his right, and Lincoln jogs over to the source of the sound, and -

Oh, fuck, he’s barely moving.

Taylor is lying flat on his back, his cane knocked a few feet away. His clothes seem to have protected most of his body from road burn, but his left cheek is pockmarked and raw from where it likely scraped against the asphalt.

Most worrying of all, though, is the gash on his forehead, just above his left eyebrow.

Link remembers Grant telling him that head wounds bleed more than others, once, but that doesn’t help the turning of his stomach when he sees the pavement slick and puddling around Taylor’s head, his face coated in red from temple to jawline.

Taylor isn’t even trying to get up, and from the cloudiness of his faintly glowing eyes, Link wonders how much of the pain he’s really registering.

Link waves a frantic hand in front of Taylor’s face.

“Hey,” Link says, voice pitching high as he searches his friend’s face for some sort of recognition. There is none.

“Taylor, hey, c’mon,” Link prods, shaking Taylor’s shoulders gently with trembling hands. Wetness pools at the corners of his eyes, and he blinks it away to keep his vision clear. “I’m gonna heal you, but you gotta stay awake, okay?”

Finally, Taylor’s eyes seem to focus, pupils dilating unevenly but staring at him nonetheless.

“Well, mus’ not be dead yet,” Taylor slurs, raspy and dazed and sounding almost awestruck.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean!? Link thinks.

“What?”

Taylor cracks a delirious grin, blood pooling into the corner of his mouth. “‘f I die, ‘m going t’ hell… n’ there aren’t any angels like you down there,” he explains through half a facefull of blood.

At any other time, that kind of line would fluster Link out of his mind, but as it is, all he can feel is frustration and fondness and desperation and worry and that goddamn adrenaline.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Tay,” Link says.

Link doesn’t really register what he does next, but quite suddenly his mouth tastes like copper and his hands are cradling the back of Taylor’s head.

He inhales the scent of iron and pulls away from - from where he kissed Taylor, directly over the horrid gash on his temple.

The boy beneath him hisses in pain, and Lincoln nearly drops his head to the asphalt again.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I don’t know what came over me, you’re just so hurt and I was so scared and I didn’t know what to do and -”

Never once had Link thought that the phrase could be literal. Or that his newfound powers could make it literal.

“Uh, Link?” Taylor prods, tapping him in the chest, voice completely devoid of the slurred syllables from seconds ago. “Earth to Lincoln? You okay there, buddy?”

“Yeah?” Link says, entirely unconvincingly. “Are. Are you okay?”

“Mhm!” Taylor chirps, and god, is Link glad that he sounds much more like his regular self. He barely restrains himself from pressing another kiss to his friend’s forehead out of sheer relief.

Looking down at the boy below him doesn’t help to suppress that urge much. Taylor’s pupils appear to be evenly sized, now, but they’re large and blown out, the black almost completely eclipsing the dark reddish brown of his irises. The whites of his eyes are still glowing that faint goldeny color, a few shades richer than the far-off streetlights. And while some of Taylor’s face has traces of blood, Link’s unconventional Lay On Hands has wiped most of the gore away, revealing skin painted red for a completely different reason. Now that he thinks about it, Taylor’s entire body feels even warmer than usual, and Link wonders what on Earth that could possibly mean.

“Uh,” Taylor says, “you can let go of me now.”

Link practically jumps back as if electrocuted, clambering away from the boy and back to his feet.

“Ow,” Taylor hisses, rubbing the back of his head from where it had hit the asphalt.

“Sorry! Sorry,” Link says, waving his hands before extending an arm out to Taylor.

Taylor accepts the help, and Link can’t help but register the way that his smaller, warmer hand fits against his palm as he hoists his friend up.

“No worries,” Taylor responds. “Thanks - I think my sword-cane fell somewhere over -”

“I got you,” Link says, scooping up the item and pressing it into Taylor’s free hand.

“My hero,” Taylor sighs fake-dreamily, and the adrenaline kicks up the pace of Link’s heart again, blood scorching through his veins and rushing to his face.

Okay, maybe it’s something other than adrenaline, but that’s for Lincoln to unpack later.

“Come on,” he says after he gives Taylor a final once-over (and tries not to let his eyes linger too long on the place where he kissed him). “Let’s go help the others.”

#without further ado: gay ppl part 1 of (hopefully only) 4 :DDD #the plan is to link the following parts all together after the summary blurb instead of doing a reblog chain i think. we'll see #this concept has been plaguing me for months thank you oakvale server for bearing witness to my madness w these guys #part 2 coming. within the next week hopefully!#dndads #swiftli #fic #happi scribbles #oh. uh. title and chapter titles from paper rings by taylor swift btw!!!

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