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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 years

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Christmas Lights

John Wick x reader (A/n- posting two fics in one day cause my phone deleted the notification for the Christmas challenge. A/n2- this one is based on the Coldplay song Christmas Lights, and its for the lovely @toomanystoriessolittletime Christmas writing challenge. I had sooooo much fun writing this that I wrote 2 versions, though, the John Wick one won)

Masterlist

Warnings- Angst (there’s a hopeful ending, no worries.)

Winter in London was cold, but it felt even colder knowing that when he got home, she would not be there. Standing near the window in his room at the Continental, leaning on the beige wall and staring at the huge tree in the nearby square, the colorful, blinking lights taunted him with their cheer, as if to remind John that he had none, he’d given it all up when he walked out the door. If he closed his eyes right then, momentarily blocking them out, he could still see the pained look on Y/n’s face as she watched him get ready to leave again.

“It’s almost Christmas John,” she’d pleaded, her voice breaking, “Please just stay.”

The hurt in her eyes when John had brushed off her pleas, arguing that he had to take the job because the money would do them good, they were planning a wedding after all, was unmatched. And that was when Y/n broke it to him; if he left, she couldn’t promise that he’d be coming back to any wedding planning. Still though, they’d just had a fight, the worst one they’d ever had and John was so, so mad, that he’d just wanted to get out of their shared home. Maybe he could have gone to the hotel in New York, but hearing Winston tell him that he was in the wrong one was the last thing he needed, so instead, John did what came naturally to him, turned to what he usually did when he needed an outlet; he went to work.

Usually, all it took was a job and a couple days for John to clear his head before he went back to Y/n, apologized and let her take her in his arms and make everything okay again. But John knew that that time, he’d gone too far, and as he brought the remainder of his smoky bourbon to his lips, he thought back on what Y/n had had said as she followed him to the door where the taxi had waited; “If you leave tonight, then I’m leaving too.”

John hadn’t said anything, his mind playing a foolish trick and telling him that Y/n’s threat was empty; she wouldn’t leave, she loved him. They loved each other, and their love had survived so much thus far. But then he’d called her cell the next morning, to try to mend things, disappointed when she didn’t pick up, and then, even more heartbroken when he called the house, where the ringing ended with the voicemail. It had taken days after that for John to hear from Charon that Y/n had dropped off Dog at his desk along with a message for him; she’d left her key to their house, or rather, his house, there too. She had left.

Without as much as an outgoing pleasantry, John had disconnected the call, his jaw locking as tears gathered in his eyes. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go, it was just a fight, one stupid fight. All because she’d asked for one thing; for him to stay home and spend Christmas with her. All Y/n ever wanted was to be with him, the big wedding had been his idea, John’s way of trying to give her something special after she’d promised to spend her life with him.

Sniffing, John glanced at the lights again, trying not to liken the tree to the one he and Y/n had put up at home. The one in the square only served to dredge up those memories; her drunken giggle between sips of hard cider and moments putting delicate ornaments on the spruce, the way he’d lifted her up into his arms so she could put the star on top, how they’d kissed and then some after she’d slid down his body; safe in his arms.

Throwing his head back against the wall, John let his eyes slip closed for the briefest of moments as he wondered what it would take to will Y/n back into his life. Christmas was in three days and it would be the first one without her in almost five years and he’d taken to wondering if he could really call it that if she wasn’t there. It was Y/n who’d made the day something special; she’d come into his life and together, they’d made memories and traditions. Opening one present on Christmas Eve after their stroll around the neighborhood to see the lights, making hot chocolate instead of coffee on Christmas morning and spending the day buzzing around the kitchen making dinner after unwrapping the rest of their presents. If only Y/n knew that she was the only gift he needed.

With a heavy sigh, John pushed off the wall and straightened his back, giving one last glance at the lights illuminating the area around the grand tree, wishing on the glittering star at the top that the past week had been nothing but a bad dream.

Y/n rubbed her hands together, trying to generate some heat as she quickly walked up the sidewalk to a familiar apartment building in Brooklyn. She was all bundled up and though it hadn’t started snowing yet, New York’s frigid winter air was enough to have your fingers and toes icing up if you weren’t careful. She couldn’t wait to get back home that evening and just curl up in her favorite sweats after a long, hot shower. It was Christmas Eve, the first one she’d spent without John in five years, and it went without saying that his absence and the end of their relationship had thrown her for a loop; nothing seemed right anymore and without their usual traditions, the holidays seemed empty.

She missed him.

Trying to hurry up, Y/n fiddled with her hands again, that time, trying to ignore how bare her finger felt without the engagement ring she’d left behind with Charon. She’d gotten used to it, and moreover, she’d gotten used to being his fiancée. Being the only person allowed to see and care for him when he was at his worst and hold his hand when he was at his absolute best. John, the only person that she’d ever seen as the love of her life, she’d wanted so much with him, but just a week and a half ago, what Y/n wanted the most was to spend Christmas with him, the way they had every other year for the past five. But John wanted to work and even if he’d rattled off some excuse about how the money would be good for their nuptials, Y/n knew otherwise; they’d been fighting a lot lately and he wanted to get away for a while. He’d wanted to run away from the problem, instead of staying home and working things out with her.

Looking back on it, Y/n realized that she didn’t even care about the things they’d been fighting over, it was all so trifling in the scheme of things, a wedding venue, how much money was too much to spend on a caterer and where they would go after they were married. Y/n wanted to move to a place in the suburbs and John wanted to stay put. After they’d broken up though, or rather, after Y/n had broken up with him, she’d come to see that she couldn’t have cared less about any of those things, as long as she was with John, then none of it mattered.

But he was gone, and Y/n was left, walking along the cold streets of New York back to her old place, trying to come to terms with a life without him, thinking of how she’d take him back in a heartbeat if they’d found a way to work things out.

She was just a few feet away from the building when Y/n started rummaging through her handbag in search of her keys, clumsily getting the little bunch out without much effort. About to turn to start up the short flight of shallow steps, Y/n unconsciously raised her head, stumbling back slightly as a soft gasp escaped her lips in a white puff. Even if he was the person she’d wanted to see the most, he was the last she’d actually expected. Though, maybe the universe, by some wintery miracle, had decided to give her exactly what she wanted; a second chance with John Wick.

He’d taken a cab straight to the place where he’d suspected she’d be, right after making a quick pit stop at the hotel. John had booked the first non-stop flight from London to New York that he could get, all in a bid to get to Y/n before the stroke of midnight, before he could start another day without her. The plane had landed late Christmas Eve and even if it was past ten and even if he didn’t even know if she was still awake, John knew he had to try.

With his hands in his pockets, trying to combat the temperate air, John walked quickly along the barren sidewalk, passing storefronts illuminated with tiny, festive bulbs. They were proving to be as unwavering as the love that was fueling his mission and had added to the spirit that seemed otherwise absent. It hadn’t started snowing in Empire City and even if the lack of fluffy white and icy pavements dared to subtract from the holiday, white Christmases were rare in their neck of the woods. It never felt like winter without snow, just like the next day wouldn’t feel like anything special if he couldn’t convince Y/n that she was all that mattered to him. He didn’t care how they spent it, as long as they were together. If only he’d realized that before.

He was drawing nearer and nearer to the building he’d been in search of, and in his coat pocket, John’s finger brushed the cool metal of a familiar ring; the one that was made especially to be worn by her, the one that had been gone from it’s home for six days too many. If all went well, then maybe it wouldn’t have to stay warm in his pocket for much longer and maybe his heart being stitched back together would be his first present.

As he walked, John had kept his eyes straight ahead, only slowing down when a familiar figure came into sight. She was twisted awkwardly as she’d continued walking, rummaging through her handbag until Y/n produced a jingling set of keys, straightening up, only for them to come face to face. She wasn’t too far off, just a couple feet away and John thought that his hopefulness was mirrored when he matched her gaze.

Unseen to her, he closed his palm around her ring, trying to find the words as they stood there, seemingly the only two out at that late hour. Taking a chance, he finally found the courage to utter one lonesome word, “Hey.”

Y/n seemed hesitant, but eventually, with what John thought to be the first glimmers of a sad smile tugging at her paled features, “Hey.” It was just one mirrored word, but it meant so much more, it was a bridge to forgiveness, and as it left her lips, John glimpsed the first flakes of snow falling between them; white specks descending slowly, some of it getting caught in her hair, and on her clothes though most of it starting to pepper the ground.

As the snow fell for the first time that winter, the two lingered before the steps to Y/n’s apartment, realizing that, as always, they’d be finding their way back to each other.

Maybe it would feel like Christmas after all.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#stephschristmaswritingchallenge #keanu reeves #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick x y/n #angst #fluff #christmas lights #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x y/n

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feminaexlux · 4 years

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Branded

It’s the @lukanette-exchange fic! After a long while it’s here!! @kingsglaivian I hope you enjoy! Also thanks to LBSC and @quickspinner in particular for finding the cool soulmark prompt lol

I am super, super excited to share this with you!

Original prompts: “childhood friends AU, soulmate AU, and an AU of the exchangee's choice.”

∴

It’d been just a few minutes after they first met when she first wrote her name on him.

She had come closer and stared over his shoulder when she saw he’d been drawing something. Was it a drawing? It looked like he had been drawing circles on a bunch of lines. Oh, Maman had showed her how music was written, it was music! “Hi! Are you drawing music?” She had asked cheerfully.

The boy had startled, apparently not having seen Marinette earlier. His pencil had marked across the entire page. “Aah!”

“Oh no!” Marinette whined. “You messed up!”

“Y-you made me do that,” he frowned. “You scared me.”

“Are you drawing music?” Marinette continued asking.

“Oh, yeah, yeah I am,” he said, turning the pencil around and erasing the errant mark. “I think about music all the time.”

“So what does that mean?” she asked, poking at his paper.

“That’s uh… that's…” he thought a bit. “I think that’s D and the next one is F and another D but this one’s higher. It’s a song from a video game.”

“You play video games?! Papa and I play games too!”

They talked back and forth about a bunch of different little things and he completely forgot what he’d been doing. Then it got to the point where Marinette had pulled out one of her markers and started writing her name on his arm. “– and if stays tomorrow it means you found your true love!” Marinette smiled up at the boy she’d been talking to. He looked like he was a few years older. Maybe he was even 10? Maybe he was younger, he looked really kinda small to be 10.

She was at the playground next to her family’s bakery. She’d been running around and playing with a few other kids there, but she saw this one boy sitting by a tree in the shade. He looked like he was alone and Marinette wondered if he’d been bullied. She knew what that was like, even at the tender age of 5. But it was easy to talk to this boy, he was much less Crazy Mean Boy than Kim was. He was more like Nino! And Nino was nice.

“Is that your name?” the boy asked, staring at her neatly written letters. “Marinette?”

“Yeah!”

“So if it stays tomorrow you’re my true love?” He asked, confused. “Mom told me that writing names on other people is bad… But why?”

“Maman and Papa have their names on each other’s arms,” Marinette said. “It’s not bad! Oh but you have to draw over it ‘cause it’s important that you do it,” Marinette added.

“Why?”

“It’s important,” she clarified. It looked like he was going to keep asking why until his mom called out.

“Ay laddie, it’s time to go,” a lady with a long braid said in their general direction. She had a girl on her hip and was walking over to the boy. “Why hello there lass, are ye makin’ friends with me boy?”

“I’m Marinette,” she said up to the lady. She wasn’t Lass, she wanted to say.

Marinette saw the boy quickly pull down his sleeves from his hoodie to hide her name. “Itwasnicetomeetyoubye,” he said quickly, before Marinette could whine about him hiding her name. He ran away to hold onto his mom’s hand. “Let’s go mom,” he continued, pulling his mom away in a slightly embarrassed fashion.

“Don’t ye want to say farewell? We won’t be ashore fer a while son.” Well, she didn’t know at the time he had wanted to run away and hide so the nice new girl wouldn’t be weirded out by his mom like most people were.

“See you tomorrow!” Marinette yelled after him.

She didn’t.

∴

It’d been just a few days after they first met.

Luka scrubbed and scrubbed at the M on his wrist but it wasn’t coming out. He’d scrubbed himself raw at the sink, his flesh feeling tender and his skin close to bleeding. He’d written over the girl’s marker with a pen a few days ago, idly curious if the mark would stay. At least he’d written over just the M, thinking about the nice girl who’d been curious about him.

“Luka?” He heard his mom call out. No, no, no. It wasn’t coming out and his mom would see it and she’d freak out and he’d have to make an excuse or find some of her makeup or something. He’d been told to take off his hoodie by… that man and so he ran back to the bathroom to try to do something about the M on his wrist.

Anarka opened the door. “Luka, my boy what are ye–” Oh no oh no she saw the mark. He put his hands back in the sink and kept scrubbing, starting to cry. “Luka what…” His mom started, initially alarmed and then… and then she came over to hug him.

“Mom what do I do?” He cried. “It’s not coming out!”

“Who'd… no, it doesn’t matter. Luka stop doing that, it’s not going to come out. It doesn’t, lad.” His mom took his hands from the sink and started to dry them. “It stays no matter how hard ye try to get rid o’ it.” She spoke to him with the rare moment of solemnity. “Ye'e been Branded, and there’s nothin we can do about it.”

“I don’t wanna be Branded!” he wailed.

In a quiet, heated hiss Anarka whispered “This is why I told ye to never write names on yerself!” She looked at her son crying and sighed, shaking her head. Luka would realize later she’d been more disappointed in herself that she’d let him get Branded like he did. She thought she warned him, but how could she blame him for something no one ever thought would happen at 7 years old?

Who finds their soulmate at 7?

But it’d be a shackle for the rest of his life. Luka would grow up wondering if this M would ever be part of his life again, whether M would even want to be his partner. If he did find someone else to be his partner, they’d wonder if they’d ever be loved like whoever this M was. “Here,” Anarka sighed. “Ye can’t get rid of that Luka. But ye can cover it. Forget about it now, lad,” she said gently, taking off the wide leather cuff she had on that had covered her own Brand. “This 'ere’s yers now. I’ll get ye all freshened up. Granpa’s waitin for us,” Anarka said, pasting on a fake smile.

Luka hated that man. He was angry and hateful and mean, but Anarka had wanted to see her own Ma again, to have her Ma help guide Anarka in the raising of two children Anarka never originally planned to have. Granma was nice. But Granpa? No. Luka swore to himself he’d never be like Granpa.

His mom put the cuff around Luka’s Brand, looping twice to fit the small wrist better. “All covered up now. Is that fitting, Luka?” He nodded, staring at the “S” on his mom’s wrist.

“Was… that dad?” Luka asked, pointing at the Brand.

Anarka laughed. “It stands for Scotland,” she said lightly. “It stands for the Sea. It’s not yer da, no,” Anarka lied.

∴

It’d been a few weeks since Marinette met Adrien Agreste.

She’d been convinced Adrien was her True Love, and was continually disappointed every morning when his name disappeared off of her arm. “Tikki, it disappeared again,” Marinette sighed.

Tikki shrugged. “Maybe he’s not ready?” The Kwami had seen this before. The Brands were a form of magic that humans had that linked two souls together, signaling that they’d found their soul’s mate. A person would have to write another’s True Name on themselves somewhere, and it would disappear at sunrise if it wasn’t meant to be. Sometimes, though, it depended on if the other person was even capable of loving back. A Brand that had disappeared earlier might “take” later, when the soulmate was ready.

Tikki wasn’t sure if it was a good thing for Marinette that Adrien wasn’t capable of loving Marinette back yet. Maybe Adrien had a different name? The kwami wasn’t going to put forth the suggestion that it might not be Adrien at all. Marinette seemed convinced, and Tikki knew better than to doubt her bearers.

Marinette’s parents proudly wore the names they had on their arms, a very simple “Tom” on Sabine’s wrist and a beautifully formed script of “Sabine” scrawled across Tom’s massive forearm. Of course it simply encouraged Marinette into writing several names on her own arms throughout the years, even if most people found writing names on themselves taboo.

Recently, though, it’d just been Adrien’s.

None of the attempts ever stuck.

“It’ll happen one day!” Tikki said cheerfully. “I believe that you’ll find your soulmate one day. But right now you should get ready for school!”

∴

It’d been a few months after Juleka showed him that the picture curse was broken that he met the girl that’d been able to break it.

“I’m Ma-ma-ma-Marinette!”

He’d laughed a little and it hurt her feelings. Good job, Luka, that was a great first impression. Luckily he was able to apologize and smooth it over.

It tickled him, just a little bit, that he’d met another “M” in his life that he actually ended up liking. He ended up liking her a whole lot, which… ultimately kinda sucked because she’d been interested in someone else. Well, that was alright. He’d been used to the idea that he’d never find “the one” since he technically already had and lost them so many years ago.

But this one? This “M”? She was pretty cool and he found himself more interested than he’d ever been in anyone before.

There’d been one other “M” in his life a couple of years ago before his mom decided to move them all back to France, and Paris in particular. Her name had been Meryl and she was a pretty awesome girl, but she’d been several years older and already in University. She’d still given Luka some attention though, apparently finding it cute that she had a boy doting on her like he did. She was nice and she said he’d look good with some blue in his hair, and it’d been the last thing she said to him before she found herself her own soulmate. It hadn’t been Luka, of course.

He’d gotten into a fight with Granpa over his hair after Luka had dyed it. Juleka joined him by dying her hair purple. Anarka had finally had enough of her and her kids being put down and said she was going to go back “home”. It’d been a hard conversation with Granpa, but after Granma had passed Anarka and her kids had little reason to stick around in their Scottish family house. Anarka’s little wildlings were less little, and Juleka and Luka were both in their tweens to teens, largely old enough to handle themselves now.

Anarka had found some nearly-derelict fishing barge and spent a few weeks with her kids fixing up the ship, making it their new house, and they left Scotland as soon as they could. She sailed the newly christened Liberty back into Parisian waters, claiming the Seine as her new home. She gave a little wink to Luka, a nod to the new “S” in Anarka’s life that her Brand now represented.

It’d been good to see his mom coming back into her old self, the wild, chaotic, free spirit that she’d always been. He was no longer embarrassed of her like he’d been so many years ago. And he had to be honest to himself, the boat wasn’t the first choice he’d make in having a place to come home to, but something about Paris just felt right.

Juleka had been feeling better too. The younger Couffaines had been under their Granpa’s oppressive shadow for too long. And now they were slowly discovering more of themselves over time.

Rose was one of the first friends Juleka had made after coming back to Paris a few years ago, and they were “best friends” since. Today, Juleka showed him a neatly written “Rose” in a flourishing script on the back of her right hand. Juleka apparently hadn’t minded getting the Brand at all. “Marinette did this too,” Juleka smiled. “She’s been drawing names for people who ask. It’s so cool,” Juleka mumbled.

“She’s amazing,” Luka said out loud. Jules gave him a look and even he couldn’t figure out what it meant. “What?”

“She’s got eyes on Adrien, you know.”

“I’ve heard your schemes, I know.”

“I’m on team Adrienette.”

“Alright.”

“She deserves to be happy.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’d be weird if you two dated, anyway.”

“But we’re not dating. She doesn’t seem to notice me.”

Jules frowned at that and grumbled something that sounded to Luka like “she notices and it’s weird.”

He thought to himself, Not where it matters.

∴

It’d been a year since Adrien lost his mother, and Marinette finally said the words “I love you” to him.

Yes, it was a video recording and yes, Felix had apparently gone through and deleted it before Adrien ever got to see it, but she’d done it! She’d done the thing! She could do it again! It had to be easier the second time, right? The second… time.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it. It’d been nearly a full year of her attempting Adrien’s name on her arm, and nothing changed. She’d stayed up and watched it fade out when the sunlight hit it during a few fitful mornings. She wrote his name so often it stopped looking like a word and more like a familiar pattern. Just shapes and no meaning.

Marinette had tried out a few different names over the year as well, just so she’d be certain… in a slightly unsettling way. She kept it discreet, writing on her ankle or in another place easy to cover up in case it was… taking. She’d written “Nathaniel”, once. It disappeared. She’d written “Chat Noir” and nearly sighed in relief (and maybe deep down in slight surprise) when it disappeared. Not that it was his real name anyway.

She’d secretly tried “Nino” once, even though he and Alya had gotten together. It hadn’t stuck. Nino and Alya hadn’t asked for Marinette to write each other’s names down, and maybe… maybe that was actually healthy? Like they didn’t need any external validation in order to really enjoy time spent with each other.

There might have been a lesson in that.

She tried “Kim” and “Wayhem” and “Theo”, even though the last one kinda creeped her out a bit. She tried “Kagami.” Nothing stuck.

There was still one name she hadn’t tried but… but she’d been absolutely terrified of it. Luka had more or less admitted to the world at large that he loved her after he’d gotten akumatized. There’d been genuine affection that was unfiltered, unbiased, uninfluenced by whatever the magic was that made names stay on people. He didn’t seem to mind that she was so, so into Adrien. Even if she wasn’t his soulmate, he’d love her.

S-So she’d be able to do that for Adrien! Yes, that made sense. Yes, that soulmate stuff was all kid fantasy anyway. Even if it was demonstratively real.

But if Adrien found his soulmate and it wasn’t Marinette… what was she supposed to do? Just step out of the way?

∴

It’d been a decade since Marinette and Luka first met except neither remembered that first time when they were young children, even if they’d been in the same place: the park nearby the bakery.

He’d held onto her as she broke down crying about the heartbreak and how tired she was. Luka told her he’d listen and be there and hadn’t lied about any of it. It was why she chose to sit next to him after letting her infatuation go and stepping out of the way for Kagami, watching Adrien and Kagami have their Sweetheart’s ice cream together like it was always meant to be Adrien and Kagami instead of Adrien and Marinette.

Marinette chose to sit next to Luka instead of going home.

She went to bed that night deciding that the whole names and soulmates and True Love thing was just a big huge distraction from what she really needed to focus on, which was getting through school, defeating Hawkmoth, and getting her name out there as an up and coming Fashion Designer!

It lasted all of 3 days until she finally gave into her curiosity and wrote an L in the crook of her left arm before going to bed. She really had meant to write out the rest of his name, but then her phone buzzed and there’d been an akuma alert. She sighed and rolled into action.

Her Lucky Charm gave her a guitar pick. That was a little too on-the-nose, Tikki? Ladybug zipped over to the Liberty, somehow not surprised that Luka was still up and leaning against the Liberty to overlook the Seine, looking cool and thoughtful. Actually, scratch that. He looked a little haggard and worried, and he’d been expecting to see Ladybug. Well, at least it meant she didn’t have to go in and wake him up.

“… you must return the Miraculous after…” Ladybug trailed off, noticing as Luka reached out to take the bracelet that he hadn’t been wearing any of the normal… accessories he chose to wear most of the time, most notably the leather cuff he usually had on. Something bothered her and she caught his hand before he touched the bracelet. She turned his right hand over and looked at the pen mark on his wrist. “Is that an M or an E?”

Luka pulled back his hand immediately, embarrassed. “An… M,” he said reluctantly.

Then Ladybug remembered it’d been incredibly rude of her to ask. “Oh, I’m so sorry I-I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It's… been 10 years since I got that, I don’t even remember much about it,” he shrugged.

Ladybug smiled, biting back a sudden urge to scream, and offered Luka the snake Miraculous again. “If you agree… I’d like your help, Luka.”

Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Viperion were able to save the night and have everyone able to go to bed on time. She picked the Miraculous back up from Viperion, who seemed to be confused the akuma victim wasn’t who he’d expected it to be. “Anything wrong, Luka?”

“No… no, I’m glad I was able to help. I’m okay,” he said, clearly still a bit frazzled. Ladybug furrowed her eyebrows at him and he eventually sighed. “I guess I’m worried about a… friend. She’d been going through a lot so I’d been… I’d been waiting to see if she’d either call me or… or God, I don’t know,” he laughed, a little bit in disbelief. “I almost thought she’d been akumatized tonight. I’m so glad it wasn’t her. But it kinda makes me feel like crap for even thinking that.”

“It’s kind to be worried about your friend. W-Which friend by the way?” Ladybug asked. “I could pay her a visit if you’d like?”

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate that, actually,” he sighed. “She can kill me later if she wants, but yeah it’d be great if you’d check up on her. It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Instead of being worried that Luka was worried over her, she asked “Is she your M?” Ladybug got blindsided by her own question, but she only felt the impact and implication after she asked it. “Oh no, no, I’m so sorry I’ve been so rude.”

He blew out a breath. “I wish,” he mumbled. “I don’t know,” he said, his tiredness making him slightly more obvious about being miserable. “I guess I could know for sure by writing out her name.” That was said like he had been convinced it’d disappear…

“I’m pretty good at writing out names. If you want I could write… the rest of her name out on your arm?” Ladybug offered impulsively.

“… Sure,” he agreed. He watched her as she grabbed a nearby marker and wrote out Marinette on his arm. “Wow, that… looks pretty dead on to her signature.”

“Pfft,” Ladybug laughed. “That’d be the worst identity reveal ever. Marinette’s signed a few things for me too, I’ll have you know.”

“You might have a future in crime with your forging skills if you ever decide to stop being a hero,” Luka chuckled.

“I’ll stick to saving Paris, don’t worry,” Ladybug giggled. “You do have to write over it yourself if you want it to stay. I mean… if she is… you know…”

Luka nodded. “I know. Probably a long shot. Thanks,” he said.

“I’ll check up on her. Thank you for caring, Luka,” Ladybug smiled. “And you know, I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” she said quietly, biting her lip while tapping his arm. “I’ll be off. Have a good night, 'Bug out!”

Ladybug landed in her bed and detransformed. Tikki floated back to her little nesting spot while the kwami watched Marinette pull out her phone.

hey luka just got a visit from LB! thanks for thinking of me

Marinette looked down into the crook of her arm, grabbing a marker and filling out the rest of Luka’s name. She’d recognized that M on his arm.

Had it really been 10 years when she first met him? It was kind of funny that she didn’t remember until now. He hadn’t given his name back then but she remembered the disappointment the next day when her new friend didn’t show.

Had it really been a whole year of writing… the wrong name on herself?

It’d been months since Luka told her she’d been the melody in his head. Months.

And she had spent a week in heartbreak over the wrong boy.

It’d just been a few days since she decided she was going to let Adrien go. And she found her soulmate after that? How lucky was she? Marinette looked up at the sleeping Tikki and squinted suspiciously. Maybe she was Lucky™, except that she had apparently met Luka when she was 5.

Marinette stared at her phone, watching the minutes go by. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

The sun rose after an agonizingly boring time of rolling back and forth in her bed, too excited to go to sleep but too tired to do anything productive. She kept checking the name on her arm and it’d still been there all throughout the night, but now at first light… she was… scared. She closed her eyes and covered her head with her pillow, half dreading what she’d see if she looked down at her left arm where she wrote his name.

“It’ll be there,” she said to herself, feeling more certain of that than anything. The warmth of sunlight hit her left arm. She lifted the pillow off of her face but kept her eyes closed. Slowly she opened one eye.

His name was still there. “It’s you,” she whispered, feeling the tears fall from her eyes.

She launched herself out of bed, turning into a little hurricane of activity. She threw her jacket on and ran downstairs, kissing her Maman and Papa on the cheek and telling them she’d be out for a while. They’d been too surprised to see her up at the crack of dawn to complain much, just insisting that she take her phone with her and that she wear proper shoes.

She ran down to the subway entrance and guessed the nearest station where Liberty would be moored, taking the subway train there. She emerged from an entrance about 10 minutes later, ignoring the confused looks the other commuters shot her since she’d been a mess of pigtails and pajamas. She ran toward the Liberty, climbed up and leapt over the railing onto the ship when she saw that the gangplank wasn’t extended.

“Marinette!” she heard Luka’s alarmed shout. She knew he’d be up. She knew it! He ran over to her. “What the heck–” He’d been wearing a different hoodie, a long sleeved one that covered up both his arms. She frowned at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“S-So are you! And you’re-you’re here? What’s wrong?” His voice had dropped from a high pitched panic to his deeper, concerned tone in the span of two words.

She took off her jacket and extended her left arm. She saw him flush but start pulling up his hoodie from the hem, taking it off and tossing it aside. He turned his right palm up to show her the name written across his forearm.

Their names had stayed. He breathed out. “Did Ladyb–” She cut him off, her hands on either side of his face to pull him down, planting a kiss on his lips. They pulled back a second after, looking at one another in surprise.

“It’s you,” she said, resting her forehead against his shoulder. To be honest she’d been embarrassed that she’d just kissed him in the disheveled state she was in, having left to see him as soon as she got out of bed, but she felt giddy and… right.

He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her to hug her tight. “And… it’s you.”

#marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #lukanette endgame #soulmarks #fxl fic #lukanette exchange 2020 #lukanette #endgame lukanette

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chatonne-rousse · 4 years

Text

The Pole Kit and Kaboodle

Written for @smutember, Day 3: Striptease

@tsuki-chibi, I owe you one for all your encouragement and the great ideas you provided. You’re the best! ♥

This can also be read on Ao3.

They break apart for air, heaving breaths amplified in the silence of Adrien’s cavernous bedroom. Marinette’s hands still clutch at his back beneath his t-shirt; he lowers his head to her bare shoulder and sucks a possessive mark into her skin.

Her sundress is long gone, unbuttoned an hour ago by eager yet careful hands and parted reverently to reveal the lacy bra that now hangs from one shoulder.

Lips and tongue and teeth explore that same shoulder now, claiming every inch of skin up, up the curve of her neck and oh! The jolt of arousal that zings down her spine has her hips pressed to his of their own accord, while he soothes the spot his teeth have just nipped.

“You like that, Mari?” He purrs, huffing a pleased laugh against her skin before dipping back down to do it all over again just behind her ear.

She can practically hear the smug grin in his voice, but imagining it on Adrien’s sweet face seems wrong somehow. It’s a look more suited to a certain black cat, whom Marinette has no intention of thinking about while her boyfriend tugs her bra strap further down her arm and follows its path with kisses.

This is wonderful, of course, and her senses sing with delight at the smell of his shampoo, the taste of his minty lip balm still on her tongue, the delicious weight of his body between her legs and his soft skin beneath her fingertips. But when her bare thighs rub against his jeans as her hips search for more friction, it’s not difficult to notice the disparity in their states of undress.

He’s just freed her breast from its confines when she decides they need to even the score a bit.

Her hands glide whisper-soft down the plane of his back, and she’s gratified by the surprised gasp she hears (and feels) at her chest. She takes a quick detour just below the waistband of his jeans to feel the warm skin and tight muscles there before grabbing his t-shirt hem and starting to pull it up so it can join her dress on the coffee table.

It’s a shame he has to pause the magic his tongue is working right now, but the sacrifice will be worth it when she can feel their bodies pressed skin to skin, a pleasure she’d imagined in fantasy but still hasn’t gotten used to the wonder of in real life.

When he realizes what she’s trying to do, he makes a noise of disapproval against her skin before quickly sitting up and tugging his t-shirt back down.

It happens so fast that Marinette is left wide-eyed in surprise, the cool of the room making her still-wet nipple harden further.

This does not go unnoticed.

“I’ll be back for you,” Adrien reassures her bare breast, pointing a finger at it, “And I haven’t forgotten you,” he reminds the other, still tucked behind lace.

It’s one of the most ridiculous things she’s ever witnessed in her life, and she can’t stop the bark of laughter that bubbles up in her chest, cutting through the sting of his sudden retreat.

She quirks an eyebrow and gestures between them. “I'm feeling underdressed. Care to even things out?”

“Uh uh uh,” he sings, wagging his index finger dramatically like a ticking metronome. At the confused furrow in her brow, he deflates a little, his hand moving instead to the back of his neck.

“I, um, had an idea,” he says sheepishly.

“O…kay?”

His answering grin is pure elation, his playful swagger returning as he leaps from the sofa.

“I think you’ll love it!” She hears him call from the vicinity of his desk.

Her heart swells, her smile returns.

Oh, this boy.

She pulls her wayward bra strap back up onto her shoulder and resituates everything comfortably. Whatever he has planned will probably lead them back to the sofa - or the bed, or his desk, or the skate ramp - and her underwear will be added to the clothing pile in a few minutes anyway. At least, she hopes so.

Intimacy isn’t brand-new for them, but it’s still as thrilling as it was those first few times they’d explored each other’s bodies and discovered just how euphoric it could be to fall apart against the fingers and tongue of another, turning love into something tangible by way of racing hearts and trembling hands. Alone time in the quiet of her loft was eclipsed forever the first time she saw his climax cross his face at the same moment she felt it inside.

They’re still clumsy sometimes, still learning about sex and each other, but the shine hasn’t worn off yet, and she hopes it never does.

Peeking over the sofa, she finds him holding his desk lamp in one hand and scrolling frantically through his phone with the other. She smiles to herself when his face lights up upon finding what he was looking for. He lifts his head and finds her watching him, his eyes going soft with adoration at the same time his lips quirk in a sly grin.

Seriously. This boy.

He pushes the foosball table toward the corner with his hip before tucking the base of the lamp between the rows of players and setting his phone on the turf beneath their feet.

Looking around for a nearby plug, he has to push the table back in the other direction until he can find a spot the cord will reach. He finally switches on the lamp and maneuvers the adjustable neck to create his own spotlight as Marinette watches with amusement as the scene unfolds. That is, until he fumbles it and shines the bright light directly into her eyes.

She shrieks and hears him curse before running over to her.

“Shit!” he mutters again, placing a finger under her chin and tilting her face toward his. “I’m so sorry, Marinette.”

It takes a few blinks to clear the blinding spots from her eyes, but the relief in his gaze is a sweet consolation once her vision clears. She rises just enough from the sofa to press her lips to his and delights in his sigh against her cheek.

“I’m fine, Adrien,” she assures him as she settles into the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her and propping her elbow on the back cushion. She shoots him a cheeky wink. “You certainly have my attention.”

His lips quirk in a crooked smile and he rubs the back of his neck as he returns to the foosball table, reaching down and pressing play on the song he’d chosen earlier. A slow and sultry melody begins as he takes his place and strikes a pose that makes her giggle.

“Are you ready, Mari?” He asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

“You have the floor. Seduce me, beau gosse.”

His cheeks pinken but he catches the rhythm of the song’s intro and starts to sway his hips with the music. A moment later, he bends down to quickly untie his shoes, still punctuating each beat with a shake of his behind, even as he struggles with the laces.

Marinette bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, thankfully keeping the warm smile on her face when he pops back up to meet her gaze again.

He shucks one shoe, which she watches sail toward his desk before landing with a thunk. The other shoe is kicked off just as the words to the song begin, but neither of them pay attention to the English lyrics as they watch the orange plimsoll head straight for the television. It clips the top edge before tumbling to the floor behind, leaving the giant television rocking precariously for several long, long moments until it finally settles back in place, unharmed.

Crisis averted, Adrien continues unfazed.

His socks are quickly discarded, mercifully without incident.

Next comes his t-shirt, which Marinette doesn’t think will be any trouble since she’s watched him tug it over his head by the back of the collar numerous times in their haste to undress and come together again.

She is wrong.

In the momentary struggle to remove his shirt from where it’s somehow become stuck on his head, Marinette is treated to the sight of his very, very chiseled abs, muscles rippling as he flails his arms above his head. She’s always wondered how on earth he got so ripped - when does he have the time? - but she’s definitely not complaining.

Finally free, Adrien gleefully throws the shirt to his solo audience member, who catches it with a laugh and clutches it to her chest like the prize that it is.

This striptease is proving two facts she already knew: One, he is an absolute doofus, and two, she loves him beyond measure.

Refocusing on her beloved doofus while shamelessly inhaling the familiar scent of his t-shirt, she watches him begin to unbuckle his belt and feels a little fluttery all of a sudden.

When a few sweet kisses while watching an anime an hour ago had led to roaming hands and discarded clothing and his body pressing hers into the sofa, the destination was clear. However, the entertaining detour of the last few minutes got her sidetracked. Suddenly, the clink of his buckle has her very much looking forward to the removal of those last few articles of clothing.

Buckle undone, hips still swaying languidly with the beat, he takes a moment to unbutton and unzip his jeans before whipping his belt from its loops with a flourish.

Just as the singer croons, “Throw your clothes on the floor,” Adrien’s jeans fall to the hardwood.

Marinette’s jaw is clenched, lips pressed tightly together, practically vibrating with her attempt to keep from laughing.

Undeterred, he steps from his jeans to the tune of “I’m gonna take my clothes off, too” and promptly trips, falling toward the armrest of the sofa and just barely catching himself with one hand instead of his handsome face, though his knees hit the floor with a heavy thump.

Marinette jumps up, nerves alive with adrenaline and worry, and rushes around the sofa toward him.

“Oh my god, Adrien! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He’s clearly mortified, blushing from the tips of his ears to the top of his chest.

“No, no, I’m fine,” he hastily assures her as he gets to his feet again and kicks his traitorous jeans under the foosball table, sending a withering glare in their direction.

Marinette perches on the sofa again, but she’s still wound tightly after watching him fall.

The song nears its end, trailing off in a medley of warbling voices. After a pause, the slow and sexy intro builds again as the song repeats.

Adrien matches the rhythm with his hips once more, now clad in only black boxer briefs, and dance-walks to the fireman’s pole.

"No..." she whispers under her breath.

"Yes!" he sings, drawing out the vowel on a long, dramatic vibrato.

He grabs the pole with one hand and leans away, letting gravity take over as he spins once, then twice around it.

In the next moment, he's shimmying to the top, only his bare feet visible beneath the mezzanine floor. Suddenly, his upper body drops through upside-down, his head missing the metal by inches. Right knee wrapped around the pole, his right hand grips loosely as he slides slowly toward the floor.

The look of sheer joy on his face is contagious. Marinette squeals with laughter and applauds his showmanship when he unhooks his knee and flips to the floor, throwing his arms in the air like an Olympic gymnast who's just landed a perfect dismount.

Clearly soaking up her approval, Adrien spins lazily around the pole, this time locked around it by the crook of his elbow.

Soon he scrambles up the pole again, calling down to her, "Hey, Marinette! I'm Père Noël!"

When he pops up against the mezzanine railing, he finds her face looking up at him scrunched in confusion.

"I'm at the North Pole!"

"Boo!" she heckles, rolling her eyes. "Two out of ten. You can do better."

He's still laughing on his next descent, this time going for a "Look Mari, no hands!" approach. He leans his entire body away from the pole and slides down on one hooked knee, using the core strength that must be hidden in those sculpted abs she enjoys so much to keep his torso nearly perpendicular to the pole.

Now, that's at least relatively impressive.

Marinette whistles her appreciation, judiciously ignoring his crash landing.

"Bravo, bravo!" She blows him a flurry of kisses as he bows. "You make a great case for why every child should grow up with a stripper pole in their bedroom."

His face falls into an indignant pout. "It's a fireman's pole and you know it," he huffs.

She waves her hand. "Semantics."

This is quickly devolving into a nearly-nude comedy routine punctuated by feats of strength and agility, but the sultry music still plays in the background, the song now entering its third encore.

Adrien shakes his head at his girlfriend in mock solemnity.

"I should've known you weren't ready for the pole shebang."

She bites back the immediate and obvious retort that comes to mind on a wave of red and black and green déjà vu. There's no way she's heard that awful joke before...right?

Marinette shakes the thought of her superhero partner from her mind and focuses instead on watching - okay, appreciating - Adrien's delicious backside when he bends forward and grips the pole with both hands. Although this current view of a muscled back, strong thighs, and black-clad ass that could've been carved from marble by a Renaissance master is eerily reminiscent of her longtime partner, she is absolutely not thinking about Chat Noir right now.

No. Way.

Except she is. She can't help it.

Because when Adrien hops from the floor and uses the strength in his upper arms to hold himself upside down, knee hooking around the pole, she knows she's seen this before.

Long ago, on a dark rooftop in La Défense, high above the city, two teenage superheroes out way past their bedtime talked and laughed and ate day-old pastries, sharing a thermos of hot tea.

"Hey, Bugaboo! Watch this!"

Famous last words, she thinks, giving him an amused half-smile and shaking her head at the disaster that's certainly to come. He's such a try-hard. Such a dork. No one could be a better partner than he is.

Chat Noir walks to a spot beneath an air duct that crosses the roof about fifteen feet overhead. He presses the button on his baton, and it creates a vertical tension rod between the ground and the metal above. He tests its sturdiness before cracking his knuckles and grinning at his partner.

It's almost impressive, watching him climb upward using only his hands and his Miraculous-granted strength, back and legs perfectly parallel to the pole until he gets to the top and slides back down in a curving arc to the roof below.

Ladybug claps politely when he bows but can't hide her grin.

"Well, what else can you do, Acrochat?"

"Ha! Good one, My Lady! Prepare to be amazed." He claps once to psych himself up before taking to the pole again, this time holding on with only one hand as he kicks out from the ground in a spin, whirling around the pole like a superpowered human tetherball. He catches the pole with his other hand after a few rotations and uses the momentum to bring his legs up over his head to hook one knee around the pole. Dangling upside-down, he spreads his arms wide with exuberance.

She giggles at his antics and claps again, this time adding a little cheer for good measure. It was a pretty cool trick, after all.

"That, Bugaboo," he says cockily, shooting her upside-down finger guns, "is the pole kit and kaboodle."

Ladybug rolls her eyes and groans. "That was bad, even for you, Minou."

She wonders how he'll get down from that position, but isn't left wondering for long. He grips the pole with both hands close to the roof above his head. This looks...precarious. When he unhooks his knee, he tries to hold himself up with his arms, but gravity is too strong for even a superhero sometimes.

He flops to the ground, then konks his elbow on the baton when he tries to stand up. He shakes out the tingles and grabs his staff with his other hand, shrinking it to its stowable size.

Howling with laughter, Ladybug whips her yo-yo from her waist and opens the communicator, typing the number 10 in a large font on the screen. When he turns to face her, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, she holds it up high, hollering, "Woohoo!"

The true, celestial stars really aren't visible above major metropolitan cities like Paris. But tonight, Ladybug sees them in her partner's eyes as he laughs along with her. Moments like this with your very best friend don't come along every day, especially for two 16-year-old superheroes carrying the weight of the world.

"You might want to practice that dismount, Chaton," she wheezes.

"You know what, My Lady? I think I can do that."

It's a precious memory, and Marinette is reliving it right now.

Adrien's knee is hooked around the fireman's pole that's inexplicably part of the decor of his bedroom and not a superhero's baton wedged beneath a commercial air duct. But it doesn't matter. The sheer joy on his face, the way he spreads his arms wide and gazes at her upside-down - it's Chat Noir through and through. She didn’t know it two minutes ago, but she knows it now with an ironclad certainty.

And she knows exactly what he'll say next.

"That, my love," he declares, finger guns and all, "is the pole kit and kaboodle."

Marinette laughs because there's nothing else she can do.

When he grasps the pole above his head to prepare the dismount, Marinette reaches for her phone on the coffee table and opens the text app. This time, he lands on his feet, though he still konks his elbow on the pole as he stands up.

"Why does that always happen?" He mutters under his breath as he shakes the tingles out of his arm.

Adrien turns toward the sofa but stops in his tracks when she holds up her phone, a large-font perfect 10 lighting up the screen.

"You might want to practice that dismount, Chaton," she says softly, voice trembling with both nerves and the hysterical laughter she can barely suppress. "You did better than last time, though."

She watches the emotions cross his face one at a time - surprise, confusion, shock, and a dawning incredulity - before he looks from her eyes to her phone and back again.

"My...Lady?"

She nods, wide-eyed, blushing, her pulse roaring in her ears. There's no way this is happening. There's no way she's sitting on Chat Noir's sofa in her bra and panties.

Adrien stares at the floor and rubs the back of his neck. (Of course he does. In all these years, how did she not see it? How did she not see it in every little thing he did?)

"I..." he trails off, taking a deep breath. "I forced myself to get over you...because I'd fallen in love with you."

Marinette nods again.

"And I turned you down over and over because I was in love with you."

Forget him talking to her chest. This exchange is the most ridiculous thing she's ever witnessed in her life. Wild laughter bursts from her again unbidden, and this time she can't stop.

Hundreds of moments and memories of the past five years crash over her, friendship and love and heroic duty, anguish and joy and everything in between. Four separate lives become two before blending into one incredible relationship.

Holy shit.

She’s been dating Chat Noir for more than a year. She’s been sleeping with Chat Noir for six months! She is, in fact, intending to have sex with Chat Noir in approximately the next ten minutes.

She’s...truly, wildly, deeply in love with Chat Noir.

Of course she is. Of course.

Tears spring to her eyes even as she laughs herself toward hyperventilation.

Adrien - Chat Noir! - kneels on the floor in front of the sofa, his beautiful features painted with worry, and takes her shaking hands in his.

“My Lady? Marinette? Talk to me, please. Are you--?”

“I’m fine,” she manages to croak. “I promise.”

Several deep breaths later, she’s almost gotten herself under control. Her pulse is racing, but that’s probably not going to settle for quite a while, especially if he’s still amenable to what she’s now nearly-desperate to do in the next few minutes.

The relief in his eyes when she smiles and reaches out to caress his cheek makes her heart ache.

“I love you so much,” she whispers. The words are spoken without thought, as though they’ve come straight from her heart and bypassed her brain entirely, but the statement shines with the same truth it held the first time she said it to him and every time since.

“Still?” He asks quietly.

Oh, Minou.

“More,” she answers. “Always.”

He surges up on his knees, wrapping her in his arms and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss so full of passion it sends a shiver down her spine.

Marinette responds in kind, willing him to feel every bit of love she has for him, no matter what name he goes by.

This is beyond her imagination, and she'll undoubtedly freak out about it later, but right now, in Adrien's arms, it's shockingly easy to slot the two together, her partner and the love of her life. Of course they'd been in love with each other all this time. They're meant to be partners in every facet of life, it seems.

There is a very important discussion in their future, but it's already waited five years, and it can wait until they show each other exactly how much they love one another. Moments like these don't come along every day, especially for two young adults in love, who also happen to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

The blissful, lovestruck look on his face as he enters her is stamped on her memory anew each time they find themselves entwined like this. It’s so beautiful, and only, ever, always for her. Tonight when he fills her and she gasps, “Yes, Chaton!” against his lips - oh, his expression is priceless.

From the other side of the room, Boys II Men quietly sing “I’ll Make Love to You” on an endless loop. And Marinette delights in letting Adrien do just that.

#smutember #smutember2020 #lemon #adrienette #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #ml fan fiction #ml fic

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tirednotflirting · 4 years

Text

does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?

baby’s first au whaaaaaat?

special thank you to @clumsyclifford for linking the prompt list i got this idea from! this was the prompt (it was a whole slew of celebrity AUs: “wait, you’re supposed to be DEAD and i just recognized you at the grocery store, turns out you just didn’t want to be a celebrity anymore” au. bella is also writing one from this list and it’s one of my most favorite lashton things i have ever read, highly recommend, 10/10, i could yell about hello, hello for ages omg

also here is the ao3 link if that’s your preferred way to read :)

There are few things that bring Luke as much joy as his Friday night (well, Saturday morning, really) grocery trips.

He had started working the night shift at the nurses’ desk at the children’s hospital about a year prior after graduating. He had found the job through the friend of a friend of a friend who was a nurse herself and mentioned the job needed filling fast. Luke had never really considered the idea of a night job but ultimately the work wasn’t all too bad. He made coffee every couple of hours (he made an effort to never let the pot empty which got him lots of smiles from the nurses) and every once in awhile Lina, the 6 year old cancer patient whose room was just around the corner from the brightly colored desk, would wander out to ask him to check for monsters under her bed and to be tucked back in. It was pretty simple (and heartwarming) work.

However, staying up through the night for 5 nights a week made it damn near impossible to be awake during the day on his weekends off. Luckily enough for Luke, he had friends like Michael who tended to play video games all night despite working through the day (he stopped questioning how he managed it a long time ago) and his favorite grocery store was a 24 hour location.

The first time Luke had come to do his shop at around 2am, he had felt a little spooked by the parking lot and eerie silence in between Top 40 songs that played over the intercom in the store. But he soon grew to find the general atmosphere pretty calming and he made friends with the nighttime stocker (a guy named Calum who also never saw himself doing nighttime work but here they were) and it became something he really looked forward to on his Saturday (very early) mornings.

He arrives at the store just a bit after 1am. He just finished ‘a late breakfast’ (he still always finds himself giggling at the concept of eating meals at opposite points in the day as everyone else despite the obvious logic to the schedule) and has a list tucked into the pocket of his sweats. It’s a little chilly out so he grabs the first sweater he sees on the backseat - a blue cardigan - since he knows they also keep the store pretty cool in the night to make sure everybody stays awake through their shift.

As he grabs one of the smaller carts as he heads into the store, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulls out his list first and drops it into the baby seat of the cart and then grabs his phone. Luke’s faced with the wild selfie Michael set for his profile picture and he rolls his eyes as clicks the icon to answer the call.

“What’s up, Mikey?” he answers as he starts pushing the cart in the direction of the produce section.

“You at the store yet?” Luke can hear the clicking of the buttons on the controller in Michael’s hands.

“Yeah, just got in. You need anything?”

Michael then rambles off a short list that Luke jots down into his notes app since he doesn’t have a pen or anything with him. He assures his friend he’ll come drop off the odd collection of snacks and things (“They have to be the dinosaur shaped ones. I swear Luke they do taste better.”) once he finished up his shop of real groceries.

Luke wanders around the produce, picking out what fruits and veggies he wants to have around for the week. He takes his time finding the apples without the bruises, bananas that will be the perfect amount of ripe by midweek, some leafy bunches for the salad he’s been assigned to bring for the breakroom potluck on Tuesday. He’s checking out some strawberries that he thinks might be nice to toss into the mix too when a human sized figure appears in the corner of his vision.

It’s a man around his size (in similar cozy clothes) facing away from him. He’s got hair the opposite color to Luke’s bleached blonde. His messy black curls are pulled back into a tiny bun that mirrors Luke’s own. The other man is broad and has a tattoo of a bird across the back of his neck, just barely visible above the collar of a faded blue sweatshirt. The tattoo is one that seems oddly familiar to Luke, as though it belongs to someone he knows. The man begins to wander off toward the bakery section of the store though and Luke shrugs off the recognition, figuring it might be someone he’s seen around a waiting room in the hospital at some point. He settles on some strawberries and starts pushing his cart in the direction of the deli and meats.

As he stares at the different packages of chicken and breakfast sausages, he can’t help but think back on the man he saw though. There was something achingly familiar about him, and more than just the tattoo. He can’t shake the thought for some reason and finds himself jumping in surprise when he feels his phone buzz once again in his pocket.

He doesn’t even have to look to the screen to know that it’s Michael calling again to add something to his list. In fact, he happens to even know the items that his friend failed to mention the first time he called. Luke presses the accept button and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Froot Loops and the character shaped fruit snacks?”

“The superhero ones, if they have them please!”

Luke continues around the store, grabbing all the bits from his list (and Michael’s 12 year old boy list) and eventually lands in the dairy section. He grabs the yogurt he’s been mixing granola into for breakfast lately and some butter for the cookies his mom sent him a recipe for. Only thing left in terms of food is cereal milk and coffee milk (2% and oat, respectively, of course). When he looks up from the list to make his way over to the fridges containing the plethora of milks, he is faced once again with the familiar stranger.

Except this time, as he catches just the briefest glimpse of the man’s face, of his hazel eyes and strong jawline, he realizes this isn’t a stranger. Very much not a stranger. It’s Ashton Irwin, the host of at least three of those reality dating shows he forces Michael to watch with him on the weekends since he can’t watch them when they air live on Monday and Tuesdays.

Or, well, he was the host of all of those shows until about two months ago.

Because Ashton Irwin has been dead for two months due to a freak heart attack while on vacation on some remote island.

Luke glances away from him for a moment in a panic. Has he completely lost it? Have the late nights finally gotten to him and he’s starting to actually see things that don’t exist? Was Calum right all along and the store really is haunted? (Though it's a little lost on him why a star TV host would want to haunt a grocery store. And not even a good one like that Whole Foods in Downtown.)

Then he realizes that perhaps he was just wrong. (Though now that he thinks about it, he very much remembers liking an Instagram picture of that tattoo on Ashton Irwin’s account a couple years back.) He’s far enough down the aisle from him that he can chance a look at the man without being caught. So, slowly, Luke turns again just slightly to look toward him.

It’s the hair that left him not immediately making the recognition. His hair has been dyed black, a stark contrast to his signature dark red but definitely a change that likely doesn’t draw as much attention. The sweatshirt he’s paired with black skinny jeans is pretty baggy and it’s a damn shame because Luke knows he has the arms of a god.

(Something Luke knows from the tabloid covers he glances at from time to time at the pharmacy and the summer version of the show that Ashton hosted, of course. He most definitely has never searched up his name + ‘biceps’ before. Never.)

But despite the obvious attempt to match the look and aesthetic of ‘2am grocery shopper’ he's still very unmistakably Ashton Irwin.

As Luke grapples with this new knowledge that apparently this person he thought was dead is not dead and also apparently goes to the same grocery as him, he fails to notice that Ashton has turned to face him and that he is still staring at him in shock.

Very quickly, Ashton’s face comes to mirror Luke’s expression and he’s rushing toward the blonde in a state of terror.

“Please don’t say anything,” he gasped in a hushed voice. The accent similar to his own that Luke has grown used to hearing on his TV sticks out some in his panicked words.

“How? I - uh? Are you,” Luke trips over every syllable that comes out of his mouth as he attempts to let his brain wrap around the situation. “Are you a ghost?”

The feared look of the black haired man actually fades some as he lets a quiet giggle escape (a very cute giggle, if Luke is being honest). “I’m, uh, not a ghost. No. Though I guess that does kind of accurately explain what I’m trying to be.”

Now Luke is even more confused. Based on the statement, he obviously wasn’t making up all of the tabloid stories he had seen about Ashton dying but something isn’t adding up to the present moment. “I don't-”

“Listen, if you’re going to go tell the press, can you at least give me like,” he glances down at his phone screen displaying the time. “2 hours to get back out to my friend’s place where I’ve been hiding?”

It’s now Luke’s turn to laugh. “You do realize if I go to some paparazzi or something and tell them I saw deceased Ashton Irwin wandering around my grocery store trying to decide between hazelnut and cashew milk they would just laugh in my face, right?”

The statement causes Ashton to look down at his hands to the milks in his hands. He sighs down at the cartons before tossing both of them in the cart. “Guess you’re not really wrong.”

“Is someone pulling some kind of long-winded, over the top prank on me right now? Am I being punk’d?” Luke asks, his head tilting some in a way that would normally have Michael making fun of him for the child-like behavior. “Because I know for a fact that I am not worth that much effort.”

The questions have Ashton smiling a bit again and Luke suddenly finds himself wanting to say increasingly dumb things so long as it’ll keep the hazel-eyed man smiling. “No, no. Not at all. I just,” his smile falters some, leaving his lips still turned up but his eyes drop some. “I started to get a little sick of the world and the world started getting a bit sick of me, I think.” Luke wonders if Ashton knew just how heavy his words feel.

He scoffs then, as if hearing Luke’s silent question. “Wow, sorry that was really dramatic,” Ashton shakes his head a bit before continuing. “Hi, I’m Ashton.”

Luke looks down to the tanned arm being stretched out toward him. He lifts a hand from his shopping cart and wraps it around Ashton’s. “I’m Luke.”

Ashton brightens again as he shakes his hand. “Well, Luke, you’re the first person other than my current landlord of sorts that I’ve come across since literally dying in the eyes of the media. So I guess I owe you an explanation? Since it seems like you’re familiar with that media viewpoint?”

Ashton moves to start pushing his cart in the direction of another area of the store but peers over his shoulder and gestures with his head to follow him. Luke quickly reaches into the fridge on his left to grab the rest of his dairy before catching up to him. “Well, you really don’t owe me anything. I don’t know you beyond what I see of you on my TV screen,” Luke wonders then if maybe he should have played it a bit cooler and not told the cute, presumed dead TV star that he watches his shows. “But I am a bit confused by whatever is going on and would like to hear anything you’re willing to share.”

“Cute and polite,” Ashton muses, avoiding Luke’s eye as he continues forward toward the packaged food aisles. “You’re already checking boxes, Luke.”

Some kind of intelligible noise falls from Luke’s lips as he feels a blush rush up to his cheeks because he’s flirting with him. Ashton only laughs and starts his story.

“Well Luke, you seem to be aware of what I did for a living up until about 2 months ago. I’ve been doing this job for like, about 5 years and before every new season of anything, there’s all these big network and programming meetings about production and filming and such. And every single time, I get hounded by our ratings people because I apparently don’t do enough to instigate and promote drama. Like my contract was getting threatened like three times a year because rather than trying to make peoples’ lives miserable, I just want to help them fall in love.

“And so at this particular meeting, about two and half months ago, just before the ‘accident’,” he punctuates the word with air quotations. “I got the boot. Ratings from the previous season were down by 3% and all of the uppers decided it was because of my congeniality and not the fact that the guy they chose for the season was a complete dick.

“So that night I have to host the red carpet stuff for an awards show. And I’m talking with all these glittery people who also do TV work and it suddenly hits me, harder than it ever has before, that every single person I’m speaking to would never even bother to smile in my direction if they didn’t know who I was. If I was just a plain old guy, the kind of guy I was back in school before I signed on to the shows, they probably wouldn’t pay me a single bit of kindness. So I decided, right then, as I was talking to some Grey’s Anatomy actor, that I wanted to get out.”

He turns into the chip aisle then, and Luke follows close behind. “You decided you wanted to step away from television and your first idea was to fake your own death?”

Ashton laughs as he reaches for a couple tubes of Pringles. “It was more than that,” he starts as he tosses the tubes into the cart. “I wanted to escape celebrity all together, not just the world of television. A friend from back home that I would trust with my life had this cabin kinda out in the middle of nowhere in this forest and he only ever uses it for like, two weeks in the summer and said I could camp out there until I find a way to get back to Australia undetected to live at the house I bought over there a few years ago. My manager helped with all the media stories and such. And two months later, here we are.”

“That’s insane,” Luke shakes his head as he speaks, reaching for his own tube of Pringles as he realizes it's been quite awhile since he got his hand stuck in a Pringle tube so why not?

“The journey is a bit wild, I will agree, Luke, but the life I’m living right now is much more enjoyable than faking it every damn day.”

Luke shakes his head (and ignores the fluttery feeling he keeps getting when Ashton says his name). “No, I mean it’s insane that I am somehow the first person that’s caught you.”

Ashton’s brows perk up at the statement. “Oh yeah no, I’m also pretty surprised by that. Figured I would have had to pay off a lot of people by now to keep them quiet.”

They’ve both pushed their carts up toward the self check out how and start scanning away at their items. Luke looks up halfway through his cart and catches Calum giving him a look from a little ways away. He’s got a suggestive look on his face. But thankfully it's one that reads much more as “ohhh Luke is talking to a boy” rather than “ohhh there’s a celebrity in my store”. Plus Luke knows Calum wouldn’t be the type to go rushing to media people to out the presence of dead celebrities in his grocery store at 2am so he chooses to subtly flip him off before reaching for the next item in his basket.

They’re both about done scanning and bagging up their groceries when Luke starts to realize he really...doesn’t want this little bit of time he’s spent with Ashton to end yet. And given his lack of normal human interaction during daylight hours as of recently, he’s a bit out of practice on the whole asking someone to extend a conversation beyond the grocery store aisles. He drops his bags back into his cart to roll back out to his car and as he watches Ashton perform the same action the words just sort of leap from his mouth. “Hey do you, uh, have anywhere to be right now?”

Ashton gently places a bag containing some produce into his cart before turning to Luke, a teasing smirk resting on his lips. “Luke, it’s 2am and I’m presumed dead to everyone but about 4 people,” he catches that Luke still looks somewhat nervous (something he would later reflect on to tell him just how damn cute it was) and continues. “So I’ve got just about all the time in the world.”

“Want to come to mine for lunch? We could make something and watch a show or keep chatting or something?” he asks, tentatively.

He watches as Ashton’s face shifts a bit, obviously confused by some part of what Luke’s just said. “Why would you ask if I’m free now if you were wanting to make lunch plans?”

Luke realizes his request requires some explanation for people that live during normal human hours. “Oh, because I have lunch at about 3am. Because I work nights. So right now feels like,” he pauses a moment, trying to decide and calculate what time this would have been for him before taking his job. “It feels like about 11am-ish for me right now. So close to lunch time.”

They’re out in the parking lot now and Ashton just stops for a moment beside Luke in the middle of the lot and looks up at him for a moment, a smile spreading across his face, his dimples, ones that Luke had grown used to seeing on his TV screens over the last few years, increasingly deepen. “Lunch sounds nice.”

Ashton follows Luke back to his apartment (and to the brief stop he makes at Michael’s where he ignores the comments about the man parked in the car behind his) and they park in the garage, carrying their groceries in their arms up to his unit. They each deposit their cold and frozen items into Luke’s fridge and he pours them each a glass of water as Ashton takes a seat at his kitchen counter. Luke sips from his glass as he watches Ashton glance around his kitchen and living room.

“I try to keep it cozy,” Luke explains as he reaches into a cabinet for a couple pots and pans. He migrates over to his sink to fill a pot with water to boil. “Needed it when I first started the working at night thing and I needed to find a way to force myself to sleep when the sun was up. Gonna make some pasta and chicken thing, that cool?”

Ashton smiles warmly from his place at the counter. “Sounds lovely. You mind if I use that?” he points to the opposite corner of the space where a black Keurig machine sits. “I don’t often do this whole living like normal in the night thing.”

Luke laughs at the comment on being nocturnal. “Go for it.”

He turns back to the pan of chicken, chopping it up and moving it around some before turning to a different burner and tossing in a few things to make a garlic sauce. He can make maybe two things that qualify as meals rather than just large portioned snacks so he’s opted for one of those since he so rarely has company.

“What do you do then that’s got you up all through the night?” Ashton asks as he opens the cabinet above the coffee machine pulling down a bright yellow mug. The color suits him, Luke thinks. “You work in tech support or something?”

“Thankfully very far off from that,” Luke starts with a giggle. “I’m absolute garbage with computers. I work the nurses’ desk for the recovery wing at one of the children’s hospitals. It’s a lot of checking and distributing charts, ordering things for the nurses, talking to parents when they want more logistical updates on their child’s care there. Sometimes I get to help entertain the kids who get to go out and about. Yesterday I let them request songs to play for awhile and then we had show and tell.”

“God, you’re like something out of some cheesy movie, huh?”

Luke turns to see Ashton smiling up at him, his arms crossed at his chest as he leans against the counter to face him, the coffee machine whirring to life behind him. Luke bites at his cheek to avoid an entirely too large smile to spread across his face though he knows he can’t help the blush painting it’s way across his nose and cheeks. “It’s a good job. Even worth the whole graveyard shift situation.”

Ashton grimaces at the end of Luke’s reply. “Night shoots used to kick my ass. There is nothing in the world more terrifying than slightly drunk women in hot pink crying over some complete asshole rejecting them after a cocktail party at 2am.”

“Was there anything about it that you liked, though?” Luke asks after he turns down the heat to let the sauce simmer for a bit. He watches Ashton stir some milk into his mug that he retrieved from the fridge.

“Of course,” Ashton answers quickly, in a tone that projects honesty rather than just being used to answering the question. “I got to travel to places I would have never made it to otherwise, meet people that I considered heroes growing up, provide for myself and my family. And for a while that’s why I just dealt with the bull shit. But I started to realize I was working my ass off for all of that good stuff I was getting. That I didn’t have to deal with things in exchange for those things that were mine because of my work.”

Luke isn’t quite sure what to respond to that. Because he’s right, the logic is obvious and sound on all of it. As he’s trying to formulate a response though, Ashton cuts in again. “Though I guess maybe that’s a pretty privileged logic I-”

“No, don’t,” Luke cuts him off. “You shouldn’t justify the unfair parts of your job like that. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your own values about the way people should be interacting with one another for the sake of drama for good TV ratings. You don’t owe anything to anyone who doesn’t actually give a shit about you as a person. I’ve known you for like two hours and it already just baffles me why someone wouldn’t want to know who you are behind the stage makeup and scripted lines.”

He watches as Ashton lifts the mug to his lips, pink cheeks peeking out from each side (he wonders if the change in color comes from the heat of the mug or the words he’s just said). He lowers the mug and his lips lift into a lazy smile. “See now I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually dead. Your kindness is angelic.”

Luke hasn’t a single clue how to respond to that so he gives the hazel-eyed man a small smile before returning to his saucepan. Ashton shifts the conversation then, asking Luke more about his job before telling him about the gardening he’s taken up since being stuck out in the middle of nowhere on his own. He shows Luke pictures of his herb garden and points out each one as he names it. As he starts putting food into bowls, Luke offhandedly mentions how he’s always wanted to grow lavender but tending to plants when you sleep through the sunshine makes gardening difficult. He drops a fork into a bowl and when he turns to hand it to Ashton, Luke watches as he hits the “Add to Cart” option on an Amazon page for lavender seeds. His heart does some kind of funny rhythm as butterflies burst in his chest. Their eyes meet as Ashton locks his phone and looks up to him.

“Pretend you didn’t see that, I want it to be a surprise,” Ashton whispers between the two of them, his right eye winking up at Luke as he accepts the bowl.

“So this is going to be happening again then?” Luke muses as he grabs his own bowl and walks toward the living room. Ashton follows behind him. “I should plan for future early morning lunches with a dead celebrity?”

“I know it comes with some amount of risk for both of us but,” Ashton looks down toward his feet, scratching at the back of his neck as he tries to come up with the right way to phrase things. Luke turns to face him as he hears the hesitation in his voice. “I really want to see you again. This has been nice. And not just because you’re the first person I’ve spoken to other than my mother in two months. I...want to know you, Luke.”

Luke smiles tiredly, feelings the earliness of the hour in a way that he hasn’t in quite some time. He watches as Ashton’s fingers fidget with a string hanging from the end of his sweatshirt, obviously nervous about what he’s just admitted to the man he’s only just really met, still. Luke reaches forward for his hand, tangling their fingers together as he squeezes his palm against Ashton’s. It feels nice to be close to someone like this. It’s something he didn’t realize he was missing out on while only really living in the night.

“I think you’re worth the risk, Ashton.”

He watches as Ashton looks down to their intertwined hands, Luke’s eyes following to the same place. His hands are pale from the lack of much sunlight other than what he gets at sunset when he goes out to take his walk after waking. Ashton’s is warm and tanned, likely from the sun he gets from days in his secret garden hideout. He barely knows this man, apart from the apparently highly curated version he’s seen on screen. He wants to know the Ashton that speaks like sunshine and loves love enough to lose his job over. He wants to know the steps he knows he’s skipping in his story right now that led to him faking his own death. So it’s no surprise that the next words have him smiling bright enough to light up the early morning they found each other in.

“I think we’re worth the risk, too.”

#lashton #lashton fic #i honestly have been staring at this for so long i can't even tell if i like it anymore #i had to end it in domestic fluff i am SORRY #i have no idea how to end fics otherwise #this is Such a funny au though #like there were def better ways to do it but it was fun #esp for never having given AU a shot before #wow we're rambling in the tags anyone surprised? anyone?#also almost made the title a line from when the day met the night by patd but decided against it #i picked this title on the 1d anniversary and i feel the need to honor My Men

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antonradke-music · 3 years

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DJ’s: YOU AREN’T PRODUCERS. TAKE THAT WORD OUT OF YOUR SOCIAL BIOS.

Possibly controversial opinion:

TLDR: DJ's: If you're not posting original music, edits, remixes, or anything of the sort. Please don't put "producer" in your SoundCloud bio. It's alot like that guy in High School who would say "Yea man I play guitar, I shred like, all the time" then you hand him a guitar and he just starts goin ham with a poorly executed and under-practiced "Smoke on the Water" or "Enter Sandman" opening riff. On repeat. The entire time he plays. Except with DJ/Producers you can't just hand someone a laptop to "hear them shred on a DAW" so its alot easier to get away with in our EDM world.

FULL RANT: There is a huge difference between "DJ" and "Producer" and there isn't a single thing wrong with just being a "DJ" and not both. People still need and want DJ mixes. There's zero shame in admitting that you don't, or don't know how to, produce music.

It only bugs me (and to be clear, it doesn't even bug me all that much) coz producers like myself and my friends spend countless hours learning and mastering our craft, so that title of "producer" is somewhat earned in my opinion. You can't just download a DAW and say "I'm a producer" if you've never once truly used it.

Producers create. DJ's mix. If your SC page is only mixes, you're a DJ. If your SC page contains original content/music you created yourself, then there's nothing wrong with adding that "producer" bit in your bio. Even if what you're posting is ID's, WIPs, ideas, bootlegs, etc. It doesn't need to be fully finished and mastered music. If you created it, you produced it, you are a producer on some level (beginner/intermediate/TUNE GOD, etc)

If you're a DJ now, and are just now learning to produce, just wait until you start posting/uploading your tunes. THEN add that fabled "producer" title to your socials.

I'm also not alone. Myself and several of my producer friends have expressed at least some frustration towards the DJ's that both call themselves a producer in their socials and even (sometimes) out in public. It can definitely be a "wtf" moment (and this has literally happened to me before) when you are talking to someone, be it an Entertainment/Booking manager or a bigger DJ, telling them about your music and your work. Then another DJ shows up and starts doing the same. But you know that person, and you're aware of the fact that they've never made a tune or have even tried to start learning.

Now there's the possibility that someone who's never worked on tunes in their life could get the credit or booking that you were working so hard for, and they didn't spend a minute doing the same. They just happen to be VERY good at talking to promoters, knowing what they want to hear, and manipulating the truth to fit a narrative that will get them hired or booked. And this has happened to me. They ended up getting a better time slot than me as they grossly exaggerated their SoundCloud stats, and played a song to the promoter by an underground artist claiming that it was their own. I kept my mouth shut. I should have spoken up, but I didn't think his ploy would work and I was new to that particular local scene, I wanted to avoid burning bridges or looking salty/bad. His set ended up being really rough, he'd lied about knowing CDJ gear (he didn't), spent an hour trainwrecking almost every transition, the dance floor was empty by the end of his set, he left the venue in a hurry afterwards and I've never seen him since.

Unfortunately it's not like many local event managers actually care. They just want a good DJ, and they'll often believe you if you tell them you're more than just a DJ. They likely don't have a reason to doubt you, and often don't care enough to check the validity of those claims. Or maybe they don't even know the difference between "DJ" and "Producer"

So in in summary: DJ's. You're not producers. Not unless you make your own music/Unless you are a creator. And just for the record, opening a DAW, playing with Serum for a few minutes, and tossing a few loops into a bus/channel doesn't count. Take the time to learn properly how to write progressions/melodies, program sequences, mix-down your track elements, structure your tune and bonus points for doing it all without presets (learn sound design) and without loops (learn drum & pattern sequencing) If you have that DAW installed, you're already sooo much farther ahead than tons of others in your position. Hit up YouTube for some tutorials and you're on your way!

In Conclusion: Please. Please. PLEASE don't take credit for the kind of work producers spend up to 10-15 hours a track doing (my average time to finish a song entirely). You could cost a talented soul a gig or time slot they've been busting their asses for for years. There really isn't anything wrong with being JUST a DJ. Its a good thing, and still a valid and useful skillset with tons of work/gig opportunities. I played plenty of gigs before I really started calling myself a "producer". You may not get the best timeslots as compared to producers. But be honest with yourself, you could be a fantastic DJ, but who most deserves good timeslots at events? The guys with something to promote. A product to offer. And that product is their creative content/music/whatever. And that guy could be you, you just need to take the time to learn and work hard at honing your craft and skillsets.

Soooo take "producer" out of your bio if all you're posting is mixes and mashups. And if your bio says it, or you identify as a Producer, you better expect me to fuckin test you on it cause I will. Immediately. And if you don’t pull a home made, non-plagiarizing, ORIGINAL piece of creative expression/content out of your ass in that very moment then I swear to Cthulhu I will perform a social/career crucifixion (alot like “social/career suicide” except I do it to you) on you. Your ‘music career’ ends right there on the spot, ESPECIALLY if you play some underground artist and act like its your music and take credit for it. That’s just so far from ok. And I WILL notice. I was an underground non commercial radio DJ for over 2 years. and a lifelong enthusiast all around. Trust me. I will know. So just be honest with yourself, and others. Please, and thank you.

- Signed, bedroom producers the world over.

PS - I’m SERIOUS guys. I won't stay silent next time. If I see a DJ try to take credit for another artists work (especially while talking to promoters, and especially taking credit for underground artists work) I will shut that shit down instantly. I will ensure they're instacancelled on the spot and won't play a gig in that area ever again. Plagiarism is NOT COOL. Don't plagiarize. Seriously. You will never have a career in music if you make Plagiarism a part of your “strategy for success” in the music industry. And I will personally work towards ensuring that. (example: I still to this day convert people to the cancellation of DJ Bl3nd. That POS blatantly ripped off so many artists, and is a perfect PERFECT example of a DJ claiming to be a producer. But isn’t. AND he used plagiarism + ghost producers COMBINED to make it seem like he was a producer) I don’t care if you do end up learning to produce after the fact and start making decent tunes.. If you plagiarize and try to use it to advance your career, I will do everything I can to stop you. For ever.

P.P.S. - For those of you DJ's who are learning to produce, don't take any offense to this rant its not directed at you guys, and please PLEASE don't get discouraged. You're likely not even applicable to this rant as you're actually working towards the title. So let me help you in that, below this text I'll be linking a few awesome YouTube producer channels who upload educational music/producer content. As well as some links to great sample/drum kits and more useful tools to help in your learning curve. I am also always available for producing tips and advice, just send me a direct message or comment on this post and I'll give you the best answer from my own experience/abilities/knowledge. Thanks for taking the time to read this ridiculous and stupidly long rant. I hope you can see where I’m coming from. And I’m sure many actual producers can agree with a lot of my points and reasoning. Have a good one. Peep my tunes if you have some time. Peace and deuces to all! -Anton Radke

www.soundcloud.com/antonradke www.facebook.com/antonradkemusic booking/collabs/commissions/general inquiries/demos: [email protected]

Resources and tools for learning producers: Some production education channels on YouTube that I highly recommend:

Dylan Tallchief has some fantastic tutorials for many different EDM genres which cover more than just production. He talks in depth about music theory, sound design. All of it. He shows how to use both Ableton and FL Studio. HIGHLY RECOMMMEND this channel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCIu2Fj4x_VMn2dgSB1bFyQA

For rap/hip-hop producers, I recommend watching videos made by these two gentlemen:

Praxi Plays covers tons of genres/sub genres, and different styles of commercial, and less than commercial rap/hip hop music. He teaches using FL Studio:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCAE7Doxo5WQRjLPz7JYa7Fw If you prefer darker, more underground rap music, or just less than commercial stuff in general, Based Gutta covers tons of styles of rap beats from the underground rap culture. He’s great, and also pretty hilarious. Also uses FL Studio. Oh and he does Lo-Fi stuff a whole lot as well:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTrrlfsv-5IBQ1SgPBawT3w

COMPOSERILY is also a good one. But a lot less serious. His videos are definitely more parody and satire than anything, but there’s still lots you can learn from watching him. Tons of useful stuff in his videos. He also does both Ableton and FL Studio depending on the song/artist he’s trying to sound like.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8Ujq8PBm0MWraaXd8MsIAQ

For drums and other samples, I highly recommend getting a Splice Account. Its incredible So many options! And you can download individual sounds. You don’t have to download an entire sample pack if you just want one kick drum that it happens to have which is great. A good brokeboi alternative would be Looperman. Its basically a discount/Wal-Mart level “Splice” style service but free.

www.Splice.com

www.looperman.com

Some useful sample kits I recommend getting for the sake of drum sequencing/programming:

XFER Pack by Steve Duda and deadmau5 (great for house and 4/4 edm genres)

BIGHEAD Sample Pack by BigHead (available on Splice) [great for trap/rap/hiphop]

literally ANY vengeance or cymatics sample pack will also be a great choice for practically any type of bass music. Face it. Bass music drums are boring and are all almost IDENTICAL from song to song (with the exception of the kick drum) so any Vengeance or Cymatics dubstep sample kit will do you justice here.

VSTs to consider: EDM: Sylenth1 (must have), Razor (underrated), Massive, Serum (must have), U-He Diva, Nexus (overrated but useful), Dblue Glitch, DBlue Tapestop, Engineers Filter (free, amazing Equalizer. deadmau5 approved), CamelCrusher, OTT (overrated but useful), Cthulhu (MIDI sequencer programmed by deadmau5, hella cool but confusing)

Rap Music VSTs to consider: Omnisphere. that’s it. I’m not kidding. A talented producer armed with Omnisphere, and a decent drum sample kit, who is very good at sampling and writing melody/progression can create THOUSANDS of Grammy worthy rap/trap beats without even once reusing an Omnisphere preset. Its like Nexus. Except it truly doesn’t suck, and is worth the absurd price tag.

-Anton Radke www.soundcloud.com/antonradke www.facebook.com/antonradkemusic booking/collabs/commissions/general inquiries/demos: [email protected]

#edm #DJ #producer #house music #bass music #dubstep bass #bass #festivals #concerts #clubs #shows #music #music industry #plagiarism

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thebandcampdiaries · 3 years

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Fish In a Birdcage introducing a brand new studio release: Waterfall

December 2020 - Fish In a Birdcage is an artist with a focus on creating beautiful and personal indie-folk songs with a broader creative twist. Recently, the act released a brand new studio album named "Waterfall," which feels like a great calling card for the artist and his work.

The sound quality is pristine, and the record has a beautiful production: bright and crisp, highlighting the varied melodic textures of each song. This album has a really cool aesthetic concept, with each song billed as a “Rule,” not necessarily following the number order based on the playlist, but rather creating a continuity with the artist’s previous releases. Rule #1 is featured on the artist’s 2014 debut, beginning a serious that would go on to reach #22, the last song on this album.

The title track itself combines anthemic drums with melodic vocals and intricate guitar patterns, in the vein of artists like Ben Howard. There is even room for a more old-school feel: the song "Fiddler's Heart" has a cool folk vibe with a playful and witty sound. "Four Aces" is a song with a very theatrical feel to it: I could almost picture Tom Waits coming in and crashing the party with his howling vocals! On the other hand, this track remains melodic, with a beautiful approach to storytelling.

"Movies" is a playful song with a more alternative touch and a really fantastic arrangement. I enjoy the way the vocals lock in with the harmonies, and the guitars create a nice rhythm counterpoint with the drums and bass. Instead of everything being traditionally assembled, it seems like every instrument has its own space, and they overlap beautifully on "common ground."

"Two Sides" has a more old-fashioned feel, with a bluesy flavor and an amazingly relatable arrangement with stunning vocals by Kristina Helene taking the lead.

The track "Lion" is another fantastic example of the artist's incredible creativity and ability to swiftly combine genres and ideas. This song is catchy and immediate, combining elements of alt-pop with folk and a bluesy touch.

"Amigo" is another blues-influenced country, with a bit of a funk influence. The vocals really make me think of Anthony Kiedis during the golden age of Red Hot Chili Peppers (especially One Hot Minute / Mother Milk era). "Blessed by a Curse" is perhaps one of the most melancholic sounds on this release, and I really enjoy how the song starts small and understated, letting some of the ethereal background sounds creep in and become more prominent as the arrangement goes along.

"Momento Mori" is a beautiful song with a very creative feel and a really unexpected twist. The intro is mellow and slow-paced, but the track turns into a syncopated jam, with so much groove and rhythm. The vocal performance is incredibly distinctive, providing a completely different vibe and giving the album a kaleidoscopic twist since every track has something new to offer.

The final song is an intimate ballad titled "If Trees Could Talk." This is one of the most heart-wrenching songs on the album, and it really makes me think of artists like Damien Rice, as well as earlier stuff from Ed Sheeran and John Mayer. This song is a winning example of how "less is more" when you do it with your heart first. The song's arrangement is mostly built on guitar and vocals, although some additional colors, such as a nice string section, chime in, later on, adding more depth to this particular release.

Overall. This album is a very beautiful artistic achievement, and it is incredibly well-produced. The sound of the instruments is very natural and engaging, as Fish in a Birdcage managed to create a warmer sound that's far from the overproduced indie-folk releases that you see around these days. Instead of obvious pitch corrections and digital samples on everything, we're faced with a more organic sound, which makes it so much easier to experience a positive one-on-one connection with this music. As a listener, I always find myself gravitating towards the songs that are a bit more spontaneous and heartfelt in this genre, rather than the ones that hide the artist's humanity behind a thick veil of studio production trickery. While the mixing, recording, and mastering are extremely professional on this album, there is also a lot of room for those "beautiful accident," those natural sounds like the hands moving on the guitar strings or a singer breathing in before a line, that you can only capture if you stay true to the sound of the music being performed, instead of trying to bury it.

The album features ten songs. This fact in itself is quite an amazing achievement. If you stop for a moment and take a look at what most artists are doing, you'll find that singles and short EPs are everywhere. The industry is pushing a trend of releasing smaller bursts of music at a more frequent rate in order to continually provide content for the audience. While this might be a good way to keep your presence on platforms with fresh music more frequently, it might not be ideal if you want to give your audience something more. I personally love a more immersive listening experience, so I am always thankful to see artists like Fish In A Birdcage still working on full-length albums.

This release comes highly recommended, especially if you are a fan of artists such as Elliott Smith, as well as Damien Rice, Jack Johnson, Bright Eyes, Beirut, or Death Cab For Cutie, only to mention a few.

Find out more about Fish In a Birdcage and listen to "Waterfall," which is currently available on your favorite digital streaming platforms.

http://www.fishinabirdcage.com/

https://open.spotify.com/album/4RX7OLRicCMQ4ORUJTQVTm?si=-o44rIMZTyCtz0cC6RMPFg

We also featured one of the songs on our Indie Gems playlist, along other amazing international artists to discover!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3vCtmkPDbpE9pj5DfJnycU?si=sBxnZjkgTuGpL90BUVUiZw

We also had the opportunity to ask the artist a few questions: keep reading for more!

I love how you manage to render your tracks so personal and organic. Does the melody come first, or do you focus on the beat the most?

Answer: It really depends on if I'm writing lyrics or if i'm creating an instrumental melody. If I'm making lyrics I will create the Cello/Mandocello riff/rhythm first, something that I find really captivating, and then try to find the emotion within that riff to draw the lyrics from. If its instrumental most of the time I'll sing melodies into the air without chords and then find the chords that accompany the melody later on 🙂. The beat comes later when I have a producer on my side. I try to just focus on the cello/mandocello mixed with vocals, then find musicians of the instruments I want to hear within that track, then give them complete freedom to create whatever they want. Most of the time it turns out better than I could have ever imagined.

Do you perform live? If so, do you feel more comfortable on a stage or within the walls of the recording studio?

Answer: Oh definitely more comfortable on a stage, or even more comfortable in a house concert type setting. It's definitely a lot more stripped down live because most of the time it's just me, my cello, my loop pedal and vocals. Getting used to playing to a click track without singing when I first got into a studio was the hardest part of recording, to get that solid chord structure with rhythms laid out so we could build the song around that.

If you could only pick one song to make a “first impression” on a new listener, which song would you pick and why?

Answer: This is a really tough question, because over the years I've loved asking people "what track is your favorite" and the range of answers is great. So many people have different favorites and that tells me I'm onto something. A lot of the older generation has told me they really like "Rule #7 - Angel Tango, and Rule #12 - Through the Tides" when the younger generation really digs the quirky vibes of some of the newer tracks like "Rule #15 - Four Aces"

My favorite changes over time. But I think the one that holds the most meaning for me is "Rule #3 - Paperwork", although it's an older song, it really goes back to my roots of when I really fell in love with songwriting and music.

What does it take to be “innovative” in music?

Answer: I think it comes down to pushing your own limits constantly. I'm constantly trying to improve my cello playing in as many different genres as I can possibly dive into. I think you are a combination of every person you've sat in a room with and had a conversation with, and that includes speaking through instruments. I wouldn't be creating the music that I do without playing with all of the bands that I've played with over the years. I've heard so many incredible musicians blow my mind and those influences have rubbed off on me.

Any upcoming release or tour your way?

Answer: I have album number 4 in the works, it will most likely be an instrumental album, just cello with multiple layers. That's what I'm working on these days. And the discography of fish in a birdcage is basically chapters of my life as I make my way through this musical journey. It won't be recorded for a while although. Because recording is not cheap.

And because of COVID-19, it's just hitting the practice shed and busking until things become somewhat normal again.

Anywhere online where curious fans can listen to your music and find out more about you?

Answer: fishinabirdcage.com is probably the best place to find that, and I'm pretty active on Instagram @fishinabirdcage so any updates will tend to pop up on there. 🙂 Thanks for the interview! This was a lot of fun!

#indie #folk #indie folk

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day-writingdaydreams · 5 years

Text

Who Knew I Was Crossing A Line

Summary: Natsu returns to Magnolia after having left for over a year. He goes to an open mic night and sees that his ex, Lucy, is performing. Songfic, A.U. Fairy Tail and its characters are owned by Hiro Mashima. Who Knew is by P!nk. Crossing a Line is owned by Mike Shinoda.

This was my first fanfic and was written for the #BigBangEvent for @nalugruviaevents. The art is by the amazing @bakugyou with a ton of help from my awesome beta reader @doginshoe. Thanks, you guys! I love ya to bits!

The Magnolia train station was a hub of activity when a rosy haired young man stumbled off of his train. He took a moment to quell the queasiness in his stomach before going in search of a familiar face. Glancing about, he noticed a placard with the words ‘Flame Brain’ being held up by a young man with black hair.

“Hey Popsicle, thanks for being my welcome wagon,” the rosette greeted.

“Nice to have you back, Fire Breath,” The noirette replied, helping him with his luggage. “ you back for good this time?” He asked as he led the boy to his Dodge Avenger.

“Yeah,” Natsu sighed as he settled in the passenger seat after placing a guitar case in the back of the car. “I’m back for good, Gray.” He sighed again before muttering, “I found him.”

Gray’s eyes went wide as he settled behind the wheel, whipping his head to face Natsu. “You did?!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah,” said a somber Natsu, averting his attention to the view out of his window. “Could we go to Fairy Tail and grab some food? I need ta talk to Gramps, see if I could get a job and a place to stay,” Natsu rambled, keeping his gaze out of his window.

‘Besides, I don’t think she would want me staying at her place’ his heart ached at the errant thought.

“Sure man,” said Gray, giving Natsu a concerned look. He’d never seen the usually boisterous guy in such a state, but he knew better than to question it. “You know, I’d let you stay at my place, but Juvia just moved in.” Casting another glance, Gray started the ignition, and pointed the car to its destination.

“Thanks for the offer, but I really wouldn’t like to butt in anyways,” Natsu said with a small grin. “Besides, I’d like to have my own space again.”

Fairy Tail Bar and Grill was a hole-in-the-wall local watering hole that was a Magnolia institution. There were quite a few regular customers who would stop in, as well as the occasional tourist group or three. People gathered there for the great food, the friendly service, and even for the random chaos that comes about in waves. There was always a friendly brawl going on or a reason to throw a party.

The two boys considered it their second home, as they practically grew up there. The rowdy pub regulars taught them more about life than they had ever wanted to learn, as most of those regulars were perverts.

The drive didn’t take long at all, and soon Gray parked the car and started to get out when he realized something and froze. The sign on the window made him think twice, but Natsu was already halfway out of the vehicle.

“Shit,” Gray muttered, thinking as quickly as he could. “Hey Flame Brain, I don’t think tonight’s a good night for this. It looks really crowded in there.”

Natsu looked at his best friend incredulously “What are talking about? Unless a lot has changed since I left, this looks like a normal crowd!”

‘Man, you have no idea how much has changed,’ Gray thought bitterly. ‘Maybe if you kept in touch better you would have realized that before now.’

Natsu pulled open the heavy wood and glass doors and stepped into the organized chaos that was Fairy Tail. To his chagrin, it was a little more crowded than he remembered. There were also the sounds of instruments being tuned, which was a very uncommon noise for the rowdy bar. Natsu also noticed that the stage in the back of the bar was being set up with more musical instruments by a blonde female with a figure to die for. He felt drawn to her for some reason, but squashed that thought quickly, his heart still longing for the girl he had left behind.

Tearing his gaze from the scene, Natsu glanced around to locate any more familiar faces and was immediately rewarded with the person behind the bar. He walked towards the side of the establishment, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

“Hey Mira, could I get some fire chicken and a cola?” Natsu asked cheekily as he approached the bar.

The white haired barmaid spun around abruptly, catching herself on the bar top to steady herself as her eyes widened with shock and surprise.

“Natsu!” Mirajane squealed, practically throwing herself across the bar top to give him a hard hug. “Where have you been? You up and leave without any warning, and don’t tell anyone! We were so worried about you!” she chastised as she moved away after nearly smothering the male.

“I know. I’m sorry Mira,” Natsu said regretfully. “I had a lead and needed to follow it.”

Mira cupped his face gently in her palm with a soft look in her eyes. “At least you’re here and you’re alive,” she stated. “That’s all that’s really matters.”

She turned to go place his order in the kitchen as Gray walked up to the bar.

“Figured you two would want to catch up,” Gray stated.

Natsu closed his eyes and rubbed his face as he replied, “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Maybe if you had kept in touch better, you wouldn’t’ve,” Gray sighed, struggling to not start an argument. “Why didn’t you?”

“It’s kind of hard to when you’re out of the country with no service, your phone gets stolen and you’re broke as fuck,” retorted the rosy haired man, annoyed. “I had to resort to more than just busking to make enough money for food and to save up to come back.”

“That sounds incredibly harsh,” interjected the snowy haired barmaid as she made her way over to the almost arguing males with Natsu’s order. “You could have written to us, Natsu. We would’ve helped.”

Natsu looked down at his food sheepishly, “I wasn’t really thinking clearly to do that at the time.”

A loud sound followed by a string of curse words came from the stage, drawing attention from the little group at the bar.

“Lucy,” Mira called, “try to keep it clean tonight!”

‘Shit!’ Natsu thought frantically, eyes quickly scanning the area. ‘Lucy’s here?!

The sexy blonde on the stage looked up as she repositioned a fallen piece of the drum kit and shot a furious glance at the group by the bar. “I make no promises, Mira,” she called back as she finished her setup.

Natsu’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates once he focused his sights on her. ‘Holy shit! She’s even more beautiful than I remembered!’

Mira looked back at the stunned male with a small, sad smile. “Lucy’s started an Open Mic night here once a week with Master’s permission,” she explained.

“It’s been really popular,” added Gray. “I give real props to her.”

Natsu could only nod dumbly as he continued to stare in awe at his ex-girlfriend, his plate of food forgotten.

Lucy was a vision in her bootcut dark wash jeans, red peasant shirt and brown low heeled clogs. Her long golden tresses were in a loose braid over her shoulder. She slipped on her cedar topped Greg Bennett electric acoustic guitar with her Starry Night guitar strap, making sure that it was tuned and plugged into her amp and pedals as she perched on the barstool on stage.

Her mocha colored eyes scanned the room, landing on a familiar head of pink spiked hair. A gasp left her lips as she nearly fell off her seat.

‘This can’t be real. I’m imagining things. He’s not really here,” Lucy thought, quickly composing herself while closing her eyes and shaking her head with a sad smile. ‘I’ve finally cracked up. Maybe it’s time to finally play that one song.”

With a resolute sigh, she introduced herself and welcomed everyone to the Open Mic. After stating that she had a new song for everyone, she placed her nimble fingers on the strings and began to play the familiar chords, closing her eyes as she hit her drum pedal and began to sing.

You took my hand You showed me how You promised me you'd be around Uh huh That's right

She slowly opened her eyes, glancing once again to what she believed to be her pink haired delusion. They had so much history together, childhood best friends for years before they became lovers. She hit the loop pedal to keep her chords going.

Natsu felt a piercing pain in his heart. He did make that promise, didn’t he? Yet he had quickly packed his bags and ran out the door, never looking back. Not once. He was such a moron for not keeping it.

I took your words And I believed In everything You said to me Yeah huh That's right

She saw him staring at her, a look of pain and sorrow on his face. That wasn’t right. He always smiled in her visions. His grin being the one he used to give her every day where his dark green eyes would close with how big it was. So why was he sad? She stop this train of thought as she switched up the sound of her guitar with an overdrive pedal to make her guitar sound more like an electric guitar.

If someone said three years from now You'd be long gone I'd stand up and punch them out 'Cause they're all wrong I know better 'Cause you said forever And ever Who knew

She closed her eyes from the pain caused by her memories, feeling her broken heart starting to crack a little once more as she poured herself into the mic. It had been too long since she had felt this strongly about, well, anything. She gave a broken chuckle at the thought.

The ache in his chest continued to spread, causing his breath to catch in his throat. His head spun with thoughts of coulda, woulda, shoulda. He couldn’t believe that this was how he had left her. He shouldn’t have left the way that he did. He felt lower than slime.

Remember when we were such fools And so convinced and just too cool Oh no No no

Swamped in memory, she could almost feel his touch on her face, his heat as they kissed. Oh how she missed him! Months spent trying to block this feeling nearly killed her, but what could she do? He left without saying a word, without saying goodbye.

Without saying he loved her.

And that destroyed her soul.

I wish I could touch you again I wish I could still call you friend I'd give anything

‘Oh Luce, I’d give anything for that as well,’ the heartbroken pink haired idiot just stared at the love of his life, his mouth left agape. He had been a complete and utter fool. The whole time he was gone all he could think of was her, but she wouldn’t forgive him - how could she?

She opened her eyes once again, believing this to be her strongest delusion yet. He was still there! And he looked as just heartbroken as she felt.

It took everything she had to keep her voice steady and strong. She couldn’t let it break just yet.

When someone said count your blessings now For they're long gone I guess I just didn't know how I was all wrong They knew better Still you said forever And ever Who knew Yeah yeah

Her gaze shifted to her fretboard, making certain that she hit all the right chords.

I'll keep you locked in my head Until we meet again

Her gaze shifted once more back to him. It was always back to him.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He was a magnet, and she was true North.

Until we Until we meet again And I won't forget you my friend What happened

She started to sing with her whole heart, trying to exorcise her demons with her voice, pouring her feelings into every word. Who cares if the whole world knows now? She had always loved him, and now she was singing to a figment of her imagination.

If someone said three years from now You'd be long gone I'd stand up and punch them out 'Cause they're all wrong and

She roared in tune and melody, sounding like an avenging angel. Her guitar strings echoing strongly with her emotions, her heartbreak, her grief.

That last kiss I'll cherish Until we meet again And time makes It harder I wish I could remember But I keep Your memory You visit me in my sleep My darling Who knew

She took gasping breaths, trying to reel in her raging emotions once again, and switched off her overdrive pedal and loop pedal.

My darling My darling Who knew

Her voice came out as a breathy whisper; a little broken sounding as her tears threatened to fall. She closed her eyes against them and forced her voice to become stronger as she almost effortlessly picked up her beginning chords once more.

Natsu was starting to feel confused. He understood that the song was about them, but did she think that he was dead? This was way worse than he thought. He really did screw up this time.

How the hell was he going to fix this?!

My darling I miss you My darling Who knew

Memories of pink hair, kind eyes, and a wide fanged grin assaulted her. She opened her mahogany orbs and locked eyes with his olivine gaze.

Who knew

‘Natsu,” she thought as she stopped her drum pedal and ended the song with a final dampened chord.

“Lucy,” Natsu whispered reverently under his breath, calloused fingers itching to reach out to her. To hold her in his arms to comfort her from her pain he caused her, to breathe in her addictive scent of sweet almonds and honey.

A pregnant pause followed by a deafening sound broke her concentration as the bar patrons applauded Lucy’s performance. She had honestly forgotten where she was and who was listening. She blushed and stood to make her bow, relinquishing the stage for the next performer

Mira turned to Natsu, noting the heartbreak plain on his face. “You know,” she started slowly, “Lucy missed you the most out of all of us. I don’t think that she realizes that you’re actually even here.”

Dumbfounded, Natsu turned back to the barmaid with a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“She means,” interrupted a sour looking Gray, “that Lucy had such a hard time about you leaving that she thinks you’re a figment of her imagination! She’s been to therapy and everything because you couldn’t have bothered to tell her that you were going or if you’d be back!” The boy seethed quietly.

“Gray!” Mira hissed, giving him a deadly glare as he cowered from her in fear. “That’s not our truth to share! How dare you!”

Ignoring the seething barmaid and the cowering dark haired idiot, Natsu became lost in thought. He needed to fix this, he needed her to know. After some time, he came up with a plan.

“Hey Mira, do you think you can get me a performance spot for tonight?” Natsu asked quite suddenly, wiping his palms nervously on the thighs of his work worn jeans. “I have an idea…”

He got up from the barstool as Mira gave a hesitant nod and threw Gray a pointed look.

“Ice breath, I need to get some stuff from the car,” he growled.

As they left arguing for the car, Lucy approached the bar.

“Hey Mira, can I get an iced strawberry mint tea with honey?” the blonde requested as she wearily slid onto the barstool, leaning her elbows onto the bar and propping her jaw with the palm of her hand

With a smile, the barmaid answered as she picked up the forgotten food to place it someplace safe, “Sure thing Lucy! By the way, your performance tonight was amazing!”

“Thank you,” Lucy replied tiredly, coming down from her performance high. That song always drained her both physically and emotionally, even in practice.

‘I guess that’s what exorcising your demons does to you.’ she thought derisively.

“It sounded like you were singing that song for a certain someone…” Mira teased as she quickly served the younger girl.

“More like to a ghost than anyone, Mira,” the blonde answered sadly as she closed her eyes. “The person I was singing to wasn’t even here.”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” The older female inquired with a twinkle in her eye.

“I haven’t seen or heard from him in over a year,” Lucy said despondently, opening her eyes to focused on her drink, not noticing the pair of boys walking back into the bar, or the pink haired boy focusing all of his attention on her. “I highly doubt that he’s going to just waltz into Fairy Tail just in time to hear my song… and if I did happen to see him, it’s probably all in my head anyways. Stupid dragon,” she pouted, her attention still on her beverage.

Glancing at the stunned Natsu while grabbing a glass to clean, Mira exclaimed, “Oh, that reminds me! Someone requested a spot for tonight, if possible. It’s someone who hasn’t played here before.” She said that last part with a secretive smile.

This request piqued the blonde’s interest. Raising a brow, Lucy lifted her gaze to the barmaid in question.

“I’ll double check with Levy,” she said slowly. “She’s got my clipboard with the available spots, but I think I saw one open.”

“That’s great!” Mira beamed. “I’ll let them know once you confirm.”

Lucy smiled as she got off of the barstool, turning and spotting Gray and her supposed pink haired apparition as she did. She greeted Gray, trying her best to ignore who she believed to be the figment of her imagination that was standing right next to him as she asked after Juvia. Even though her skin had tingled from being so near to him as she passed by him on her way back to the stage, she still did her best to not acknowledge him.

She felt as if she were crazy enough as it was.

Natsu scowled slightly as he watched her leave. He kept quiet during the exchange, hoping that she’d notice him, but it seemed that Grays words rang true. She really didn’t believe that he was actually in front of her.

‘This is gonna be harder than I thought…’

He set down his guitar case gingerly on the floor, and turned to face Mira with a pensive look. “She really doesn’t think that I’m here,” he said quietly, pushing a hand through his hair to rub at the back of his neck. “How am I supposed to win her back if she still thinks that I’m gone?”

Giving him a look of understanding, Mira said, “Don’t give up just yet, Natsu. I’m sure you can do it.” She brought back out his food and made a gesture to it. “In the meantime, eat up. You’ll need the energy to perform.”

He quirked his lips in a small smile and settled down onto the barstool to eat. “You got it, Mira,” he said as he dug in.

“Hey Mira!” a blue haired fairy called as she came up to the bar a little while later. “Lucy mentioned that you had someone asking for a performance spot?”

Mira turned to her direction, “Levy! Yes, I had someone ask for a spot. It’s for a very good cause,” she emphasized as she directed the girl’s attention to the pink haired man chowing down in front of her.

Levy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Natsu?! What the hell are you doing here?” she asked in disbelief, moving in to give him a warm hug. “Where the hell have you been? Has Lucy seen you yet? It’s so great that you’re back! Are you back for -”

“Whoa Levy! Slow down! You’re firing off those questions faster than I can form an answer!” He chuckled as he awkwardly returned her hug. “I was in Alvarez following a lead. I’m back for good. As for Lucy…” he trailed off as he let go of her, unable to formulate an answer.

Levy looked at him quizzically for a moment before it dawned on her. “She doesn’t believe that you’re physically here, does she?” she asked quietly.

Natsu eyed her sadly before answering. “No, I don’t think that she does,” he said in a breath. “That’s why I need the spot. I think it’s the only way to convince her.”

She looked at him in kindness, patting his hand. “You may be right,” she conceded as she tucked a loose strand of her blue hair behind her ear. “There’s a spot open after Gajeel. He’s the guitar player in the suit who’s got the long black hair and multiple piercings.” She turned to the stage as she pointed out the man in a white suit and fedora to the pink haired boy. “He’s about to go on next, so you better get ready. I gotta get back to help Lucy. Break a leg, Natsu!”

“Thanks Levy!” He said with a smile as she got up to leave, watching her interact with Lucy and helping the intimidatingly pierced male with his setup.

As he finished his meal, Gray made himself comfortable on the barstool beside him.

“You should watch this Fire Breath,” he said whilst pointing to the stage where Gajeel was strumming his Fender Custom Stratocaster electric guitar. “He’s the Iron Dragon of Fairy Tail, and for good reason.”

Natsu lifted a brow at that, as he was once well known as Fairy Tail’s Fire Dragon. “What has he done to earn that title?”

“You’ll see,” Gray smirked with a laugh.

The man onstage let out his grizzly voice in a greeting to the audience, tilting his white fedora in salute. “This is… Shoo Bee Doo Da.”

As his gravelly bass voice begun his song a few notes offkey and several decibels too high, Natsu turned his wide disbelieving eyes onto a smirking Gray before the pair doubled over in silent laughter

“Oh man! He’s the absolute worst!” Natsu chuckled as he tried to regain his breath. He desperately wanted to cover his ears, as Gajeel’s voice really did sound like iron nails on a chalkboard when he hit yet another wrong note.

“I know, right?” Gray snickered.

“Is that supposed to be jazz? Or rockabilly blues?” Natsu asked incredulously, laughter still ringing in his voice.

“Who cares? Either way, it sounds like something dying!” Gray howled quietly, trying not to disturb the other bar patrons.

After their laughter died down, Natsu started to get off of his seat with a sigh. “I better start getting ready before they boo Bolts for Brains off of the stage,” he said as he grabbed his guitar case and backpack.

Gray grunted in agreement before turning to the pink haired male. “Hey man,” he began, running his finger through his hair, “I might not have agreed with how you had handled everything before, but I hope that you straighten your shit out soon. You deserve it … and so does Lucy.”

Natsu looked up wide eyed from pulling his laptop and cords from his backpack to the dark haired male before him. He stared at him before a smile creeped up on his face.

“Thanks Gray.”

“You better not fuck this up,” Gray’s dark eyes turned icy as he scowled at his childhood friend. Natsu’s own eyes narrowed, all vestiges of their former camaraderie gone. “I hate seeing Lucy get hurt. She’s like my sister, and if I find out that you did something on this level again…”

“I get the point,” he growled as he stuffed his tech back into his backpack in annoyance. “It ain’t gonna happen again. I swear my life on it, Ice Prick, so back the fuck off!”

Before the raven haired male could get out another word, Natsu was already off, dragging his gear to the stage. He shook off his negative energy as quickly as he could, knowing that it would affect his performance if he didn’t. ‘God, I hope this works,’ he thought desperately as he threw a quick grin to an encouraging Levy on his way. He noticed Lucy heading back to the bar and taking his vacated seat, ordering herself another drink. ‘For both of our sakes.’

Natsu quickly unpacked his Apple MacBook Air and hooked it up to the bar’s sound system, logged in and opened up his GarageBand app. Selecting the right file, he quickly tuned his Paul Reed Smith A15AL SE Angelus acoustic/electric guitar and plugged it into the amp as he waited for the file to load.

Slinging his guitar on his shoulder, the rose haired man walked over to the microphone, took it off of the mic stand and cleared his throat. “Hello, my name is Natsu,” he started as he walked back to the MacBook. “I’m going to do an unconventional song for you today. It’s unconventional in the way it’s performed, and it’s dedicated to the girl I loved whom I left behind.” He said this while directing his gaze to Lucy.

Lucy’s breath caught as her attention was drawn to him. ‘It couldn’t be…’ she thought as she blinked owlishly. ‘Since when do my delusions get up on stage and perform?!’ Her mind whirled as she watched him move lithely on the stage, completely missing his song dedication.

Pressing play on his laptop, Natsu let the opening of the song wash over him with his eyes half closed as he made his way back to the microphone stand to secure the mic, his guitar swinging from his back.

He took a deep breath after singing the opening line and dug deep to find his courage, pushing aside his nerves. He looked up to see his friends staring at him in awe. Especially Lucy.

With that, Natsu was ready to set aside his reservations and lay his heart bare.

They'll tell you I don’t care anymore

And I hope you'll know that's a lie

'Cause I've found what I have been waiting for But to get there means crossing a line

He set his eyes downcast, almost lost in thought as the words clawed their way out of his throat.

I don't know how to warn you For what I'm gonna say

The drum line started, a beat that instantly caught on with the audience. Heads and shoulders bopping, all the signs telling Natsu that he’s got them hooked, if he had looked up to see.

'Cause you're holding so tight to What I'm taking away I got demons inside me So I'm faced with a choice

He smirked sadly at that last last line. Oh how true that felt.

Either try to ignore them Or I give them a voice

At that, Natsu lifted his gaze. Lucy was already staring up at him, however, her doe eyes wide as she tried to process what was happening. Natsu was gone… wasn’t he?

‘Is he really here?’ she thought as she made a move to pinch herself. Feeling the slight sting of her nails against her flesh, her eyes widened even further. ‘Holy sh-!’

And it's keeping me up at night Worried it's not alright Holding back things you don't know

His husky baritone voice interrupted her thoughts, the lyrics forcing her focus back to him.

Natsu glanced at Gray, Mira, Levy and Lucy in turn. He couldn’t help but linger his stare at Lucy. He yearned for her to understand that though he had hurt her by leaving, he had to find out the truth.

He had to find where his father was, and what happened to him.

And it's keeping me up at night Worried it's not alright You're not gonna like where this goes

He shook his head and closed his eyes at that line. He adjusted his guitar, securing the flame embroidered strap firmly onto his shoulder and gripping the neck, curling his fingers over the fretboard as he poured himself into the chorus.

And they'll tell you I don't care anymore And I hope you'll know that's a lie

Natsu resolved that he would tell her everything later, after he convinced her of his presence.

'Cause I've found what I have been waiting for But to get there means crossing a line So I'm crossing a line

He played a riff on his guitar, the look on his face showing that he was clearly enjoying losing himself in the music while he directed his next verse to the blonde.

Lucy couldn’t help but stare, watching Natsu’s powerful biceps bunch and flow under the rolled up sleeves of his black button down shirt, his fingers flying as he played the stringed instrument.

It's not about status We know it never was

He let go of the guitar’s neck at this point, but slid his malachite eyes to his girl, noticing her stunned mocha stare.

‘So, it looks like she’s starting to believe that I’m real,” he thought with a smirk.

'Cause what good is the kingdom When you're missing the love?

Lucy covered her mouth with her right hand as her coffee colored eyes went wide at those words. ‘Is that supposed to mean… ? Does he still love me?’ Her heart started to beat a little faster, making her chest feel warm with sensation.

She ignored the small squeak that came from Mirajane.

This is not a goodbye now I'm not going away

He smiled at her as he sang that line, putting a hand to his heart, a not so silent vow.

No, I don't have the answers But I do have the faith

Oh, and it's keeping me up at night Worried it's not alright Holding back things you don't know

Natsu ran a hand through his now slightly dampened hair, in a vain attempt to keep his sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

Lucy thought it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

And it's keeping me up at night Worried it's not alright You're not gonna like where this goes, no

His voice rang out as the chorus came to a head.

And they'll tell you I don't care anymore

He sent a glare to Gray, full of fire and fury. A silent challenge to the man who held what couldn’t be understood against him.

And I hope you'll know that's a lie

He softened his gaze as he shifted to Mirajane, letting the fire die down and dropping the fury completely.

She sent him a smile back with a subtle thumbs up, letting him know that his plan was working.

'Cause I've found what I have been waiting for

He slow blinked as he moved on to Lucy, the love and longing he felt for her piercing into her soul as she stared back at him. Her lower lip trembled behind her hand, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. He really was… He was...

But to get there means crossing a line So I'm crossing a line

The drum line died down and Natsu started to clap his hands to the beat, encouraging the audience to do so as well, never once taking his eyes off of Lucy. Once that beat was established, he once more readjusted his grip on the guitar, readying himself in anticipation for what came next with a grin.

Lucy waited with baited breath, eyes shimmering as she desperately tried to blink them back into focus.

She was not about to lose sight of him again, tears be damned!

And they'll tell you I don't care anymore And I hope you'll know that's a lie

The drum line kicked in full force once again, with an electronic echo of the last few words, shocking the audience and picking up the energy Natsu was giving off with his riff.

Laughing behind her hand, she allowed one happy tear escape. It was such a Natsu thing for him to do.

And God she loved him for that.

'Cause I've found what I have been waiting for

Natsu sent a heartfelt smile to Lucy, once again hoping that she understood that he loved her, and that he was back for good.

But to get there means crossing a line So I'm crossing a line

He picked up his riff again, eyes never leaving his favorite blonde.

Lucy lowered her hand to smile back with no more tears in her eyes. She understood, and felt the shattered pieces of her heart start to come back together. He was home.

So I’m crossing a line

‘I love you Luce. I’m home.’ Smiling even wider, fangs showing, Natsu ended his song.

So I’m crossing a line

The audience went wild with their cheers, causing the pink haired male to tear his attention away from his intended target for a moment to take his bow. But when he turned his focus back to her, he realized that she was no longer in her seat.

Lucy met him halfway between the stage and the bar, arms crossed over her generous bosom and a passive expression on her angelic face.

Natsu knew he was in trouble. Deep trouble.

“Hey,” Natsu greeted, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“Hi,” she answered

“I guess we have a lot to talk about.”

“We most certainly do,” she said as she motioned for him to join her in a private booth.

After settling in, with eyes downcast, Natsu said with a sigh, “I am so sorry. I-I should’ve told you everything from the start.” His breath hitched just a little, tear gathering in the corners of his eyes. “I should’ve found a way to get in touch with you. I should’ve -”

She reached across the distance between them and placed her fingertips to his lips, effectively cutting him off from his babbling. He finally brought his gaze to hers, his wet jade getting lost in the deep brown of her eyes.

It was the first time that Lucy had actually physically touched him since this whole misunderstanding began. The feel of his lips against her skin set fire to her veins, causing her breath to catch as the intense heat raced up her arm to pool in her chest.

“Don’t,” she said with a shuddering breath, desperate to keep her emotions in check. “...d-did you find him?” She asked gently as she moved her fingers from his lips to his cheek.

With a wince that drew his eyes away from hers once more, he nodded, nuzzling against her fingers and swallowing harshly.

“I did,” he said in an almost broken whisper as he grabbed at the hand that she still held to his cheek and pressed it closer to his skin.

Sensing his pain, she drew him in close, resting her forehead to his with her eyes closed, holding onto her tears. His pain now becoming hers as understanding filtered through her.

She loved his father as her own, after all.

Natsu’s eyes went wide at the gesture, his words lost in utter disbelief. He never imagined being able to touch her this intimately again. A few moments later, he lowered his own dark eyelashes to his cheekbones and let out a quiet sigh, taking the moment for what it was.

It was a moment of grief for what had happened in the past; of the level of trust that they still had in each other.

A moment for the love that they both still shared.

“I missed you,” he spoke softly, his breath fluttering gently across her face. “I thought of you every single day that I was gone.”

“I missed y-you too,” she choked out, tears beginning to fall from her closed eyelids, dusting her eyelashes like diamonds. “I-I thought I was going crazy. I kept seeing you everywhere I went, even when I knew…”

“There were times when I thought I saw you too,” he confided as he slowly opened his eyes.

Lucy opened her eyes in awe. “Really?” She asked, amazed that the boy in front of her might just still reciprocate her feelings.

“Really,” Natsu answered as he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb, wiping away her tears. His love shone brilliantly from his eyes, nearly illuminating them. “And after all of this, I’ve finally found what I have been waiting for,” he said as he leaned in close.

Lucy smirked. “And that is…?” she asked coyly.

“You,” he said simply, taking her breath away as he edged in even closer.

“Natsu …” her voice was lost as he finally, finally closed the distance between them. The feel of his slightly chapped lips against her glossed ones soothed her soul as it simultaneously heated her core. His hand slipped from her face to her golden strands, tangling his fingers in the base of her braid. Her hand had similar ideas, engulfing itself in the pink hairs on the back of his neck.

It was like the missing piece to the puzzle of their hearts.

It felt like finally coming home.

When they finally breathlessly pulled apart, Natsu grinned sheepishly. “So….does this mean I can crash at your place now?”

Lucy laughed lightly, a bubbly feeling in her chest that hadn’t been felt for so long. “Don’t you think that you’re crossing a line?”

“Aren’t I always?” he grinned as he crashed his lips onto hers again

#big bang Nalu/Gruvia #my fairy tail fanfic #Nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu x lucy #fairy tail nalu #Val tries to write #here’s to the first of many fanfics

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freelancer-chronicles · 4 years

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This one was adorable, and a nice insight into Zoe.

The javelin’s faceplate crashed to the ground, cracking cleanly in half.

“Bollocks!” Zoe grumbled, snatching back the elbow that had bumped the mask off the cluttered kitchen table. Reaching for the fallen pieces, she glanced at the clock. She was running out of time to finish this before she had to head in to work at the Forge.

“Language, Mum,” reminded the light of Zoe’s life. “If I can’t say that at school, you can’t say it, either.”

“Bollocks to that in my own house, and it’s barely a swear, at that,” Zoe sighed, tossing the pieces onto the equally crowded counter. “How is it I’m doing this when you’re the one who wants a new Colossus mask?”

“‘Cause you’re a javelin mechanic,” Anden replied with a 12-year-old’s confident authority.

“Gluing bits of random stuff together is harder than building a real one.” Zoe stretched, her knuckles brushing the pitted wall of the apartment’s small dining area as she breathed in the aromas of craft paint and the grilled cheese sandwiches they’d made for lunch. “Why can’t you wear your blue Ranger mask again? We did such a good job on it.”

“It’s better for a little kid. Really badass Freelancers pilot Colossus suits.”

“All my Freelancers are badass, thank you kindly, and why can we say ‘badass’ but not ‘bollocks’? Bring me that glue, would you?”

Anden rolled his eyes as he maneuvered through snug kitchen to plop the glue jar on the tabletop.

“Well, when I’m a Freelancer, I’m piloting a Colossus.”

Zoe stifled a sigh as Anden mentioned his long-held dream. Again. If he could see the javelins she repaired, torn apart and burned by creatures, human and otherwise, that assaulted her Freelancers every day, he might not be so keen.

“Can you hold that steady so I can glue it…yeah, there.”

“Speaking of javelins...” Anden’s tone suggested she probably wouldn’t like whatever idea was coming. “I was thinking maybe I could come to the bonfire outside the gates with you this year…”

Zoe’s eyebrows shot up. “Were you now? I thought you’d want to enter the family bonfire’s mask contest.”

Anden’s hair, the same red-brown as Zoe’s and growing longer by the week, fell in front of his eyes as he shook his head. “The family bonfire’s tiny. And for little kids...”

“And safe,” Zoe added.

“Yeah, because it’s in the middle of the Fort,” Anden scoffed. “The real Season of Skulls bonfire is the only time we can go outside the walls with the Freelancers.”

“Who are working extra duty to keep skorpions away,” Zoe shot back. “People at the gate bonfire have to be able to take care of themselves.”

“I can take care of myself.” Anden said defensively. “You know all the Freelancers there, Mum. This is a great chance for you to introduce me to someone who’d make a good mentor.”

Zoe slammed the lid back on the glue jar with a bit more force than necessary. “If you need my help to get a costume helmet together, you’re not ready to get near a real javelin.”

Anden’s lanky frame swelled as he sucked in an indignant breath. “And how do I get near a real javelin if I never start training?”

“I am not having this conversation” Zoe huffed. She slid the helmet in Anden’s direction and stood. “If you’re mature enough for the gate bonfire, you can paint your own bleeding mask this afternoon while I run to the Forge—”

“But Mum, it’s a holiday! Why do you have to work?”

“Because Lucky Jak had another ursix run-in, and his Ranger needs a quick fix before he takes it back out on bonfire patrol tonight.”

Under his scraggly bangs, Anden’s eyes lit with hope. “Wait—if I’m mature enough...does that mean you’re taking me to the gate bonfire?”

“If you finish your mask, and if you get there on time.” Zoe scooped her gear from its crowded shelf and smiled despite herself as Anden yelled “Yes!” and punched the air. She unzipped her duffel to find the bits she’d gathered to make her own—unfinished—Interceptor mask. The joys of parenting, she thought ruefully as she emptied the bag onto the shelf. At least Anden’s mask would be nice. If he managed to finish it.

“Where’s the orange paint, Mum?”

“Third shelf here, in the box with the turquoise we bought for mine,” called Zoe, slinging the duffel over her shoulder.

“I’ll be a couple hours, so it’s probably best if you can meet me by the gate, OK? You know how to get there?”

“Yep,” Anden said distractedly, as he dug through the box of paints.

Zoe paused at the door. “You need to be on time, okay? It’s a big deal to get people outside the walls, even if it’s just outside the gate. The Sentinels and Freelancers need to know the crowd size to keep track of everyone.”

“Got it.” The tip of Anden’s tongue stuck out as he dabbed paint on the mask.

“See you there, then. Love you, boyo.”

“Yep, love you, too…” Anden didn’t look up as Zoe hurried out the door.

As the sun set behind the walls of Fort Tarsis, Zoe shouldered her way through the crowds that flowed towards the gate. The damage to Jak’s javelin had been worse than he’d let on, and now she was late—after she’d nagged Anden to be on time, dammit, and wasn’t that the story of her parenting life?

She wove through the narrow street and eased around a couple in… were those supposed to be wolven masks? Anden had made a better wolven when he was six—which he sure isn't anymore, she thought with a sigh.

She should’ve put her foot down and dragged him to the family bonfire one more year, but his mentor question had thrown her for a loop. The cheek! Maybe some of her Freelancers could share battle stories to give him a reality check. Not Jak, though—the stories he and his partner Rythe told usually made their dangerous missions sound a bit too fun.

The main gate came into view as Zoe squeezed around a final corner. Torches flickered in the darkening twilight along the sturdy wall that protected Fort Tarsis. The stinging smoke made her eyes water as she searched the crowd…and saw no sign of Anden. Had he lost track of time again, or did something happen…?

“Brave seasons!” boomed a Sentinel. “We gather this night to breach the wall, to light the flames that drive out the darkness and cower our enemies. Let us celebrate another year of survival!”

The revelers pressed towards the gate, eager to experience the dangerous thrill of venturing outside the wall that kept all manner of savagery at bay. Zoe craned her neck, hoping to see the flash of orange that was her Colossus among the many flashes of orange in the crowd.

“Mum!”

Frustration replaced worry as she spotted a gangly arm waving from under an admittedly-pretty-good-looking Colossus helmet.

“There you are. What happened to ‘Yes, Mum, I’ll be on time’?”

“I know, but—”

“It’s all right,” she sighed, feeling a flash of hypocrisy. The gate’s open now, so we need to just go. I’d take your mask off till we’re outside—it’s hard to see while people are squishing through.”

Anden pulled his carryall closer and gripped his helmet protectively as they shuffled through the gate. His brown eyes flashed with excitement, awe, and a hint of fear as the crowd began to flow away and he realized they were actually outside the gates.

The crowd parted, hushing as two Sentinels strode towards the enormous pile of wood that would soon be the fort’s biggest bonfire, brandishing torches as they called out “Brave seasons!”

“May their bones be picked clean!” the crowd roared in response.

Zoe hadn't been to the outside bonfire since Anden was born. While everyone else's attention was focused on the Sentinels, she scanned the darkness beyond the crowd for signs of danger.

“This is the best part,” Zoe whispered as she turned back to her son. “Even with the fuss getting here, I’m glad you get to see it.”

“Me, too, Mum. Woo!” Anden joined the cheer as the Sentinels lowered their torches and flames roared towards the sky.

“Whoa, that went up fast!”

“Yeah, I think they put some kind of accelerant on it.” She watched Anden’s face shine in the warm light. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“It’s awesome. So now what happens?”

On cue, a band near the wall launched into a celebratory song.

“The party starts.”

Zoe toured a wide-eyed Anden to the heavily-laden food tables, beckoned by their savory aromas. Hawkers teased and challenged revelers to try their luck at games of chance. As they neared the stage where mask contests would soon be underway, Zoe cast periodic glances towards the darkness—the Sentinels and Freelancers had special bonfire patrols, but you never knew what the fire and noise might lure in.

“Whoa, look at those Colossus masks those guys have! See, Mum, I told you Colossus masks were the most badass.”

“Oh, they do look near the real thing!” The kids looked several years older than Anden, and she guessed they’d been working on their masks for more than just a week.

“Those are my people. Maybe we can talk about how to make my visor better!” Anden strode happily over to the group of teens, almost-but-not-quite skipping as he pulled on his helmet.

And there he goes, thought Zoe as she watched the group. She thought the tall, dark-haired girl was Rin, the niece of another mechanic she worked with. Several boys laughed and bragged, full of youthful confidence.

There’s safety in numbers, and it’s good for him to connect with other kids, she told herself. Further reflecting that refreshments might distract a worrying brain, she turned and strolled towards a cider vendor. She hadn’t walked for long when Anden reappeared at her side.

“That was quick. Get any good building hints?”

“Nah, not really,” Anden replied quietly. “They said mine was okay for a kid, and then they kind of… stopped talking to me.”

Zoe’s heart pulled. “Don’t give them too much credit, boyo. It’s not like they’re real javelin mechanics.”

Anden shrugged in response, his eyes cast down to the gravel at their feet.

“How about some caramel corn?” Zoe tried, hoping to distract him from the hurt she could almost feel radiating off his rangy body.

“Thanks, but I��m not really hungry.”

“What about some cider? It’s always freshly pressed and piping—” A scream ripped the air, and the crowd turned as one towards the source: the group Anden had approached.

An eerily pale wolven had leapt from the shadows and clamped its jaws around the arm of a terrified girl.

“It got Rin!” cried a boy, as a pair of Freelancers charged past Zoe and Anden. The blast from the first Freelancer’s machine pistol slammed into the wolven’s side, jolting the girl’s arm free.

The Interceptor flew around the beast, hitting it with another pistol blast to draw it away. The second Freelancer pulled off the special “civilian” medical pack attached to her Ranger as she rushed towards the girl, who now lay in shock as blood poured from her arm.

The Interceptor hovered just above the fallen creature; as the pilot looked back towards the girl, the injured wolven lunged its head upwards, catching the javelin’s leg between its teeth.

The Ranger leapt to her feet while smoothly freeing her assault rifle. Her well-aimed shots to the beast’s head made it go limp. Zoe relaxed her protective grip on Anden.

As two more Freelancers sped by them to aid their colleagues, Zoe saw her son’s ashen face and pulled him into a hug.

“Will they be okay, Mum?” Anden mumbled into her shoulder.

“I hope so. Those Freelancers got to the lass quickly, and they’ve got backup now.”

“What about the Interceptor? Javelins are supposed to protect them, but...that was a lot of blood.”

“I’d guess that javelin will be in my shop first thing tomorrow. As for the Freelancer… well, Jameson’s pretty tough, and it would’ve been worse if Richards didn’t aim as well as she does.”

Zoe cupped his chin and lifted his eyes. “It’s their job—the wolven, the blood. All of it. That probably won’t be the most mangled javelin I work on tomorrow.”

Anden swallowed.

“I worry about them every day, and when I imagine you out there…” Zoe hugged him close again. “Not the easiest idea for a mum to handle.”

Anden returned her squeeze, then shifted so they looked at the bonfire side by side.

“Yeah, I think I get that better now, Mum.” Anden stared at the flames. “Are all wolven that big?”

“I’ve heard of bigger, but one of the Freelancers could probably tell you for sure.”

At the sound of heavy bootsteps on gravel, they turned to see a Ranger javelin with several noticeably clean-and-shiny spots on the plating striding towards them.

“Thought that was you, Zoe. You both all right?” he asked.

“We’re good, Jak, thanks for checking. How’s Jameson’s leg?”

“More than a scratch, but I’ve seen worse. There was this one time...” A glance at still-pale Anden halted his tale. “Hold on, is this young man your Anden? Hardly the wee lad I remember,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, sir, I’m Anden. And you’re Lucky Jak, right?” Anden returned a small nervous smile. “Mum’s told stories about you.”

“Well, they must be good ones, as I am her favorite Freelancer.” Jak winked at Anden, then looked at the Colossus mask still gripped tightly in the boy’s hands. “That’s a good-looking helmet you’ve got.”

Anden looked down as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Oh... thanks. Mum did a lot of it.” He glanced up as the injured girl, now wrapped up on a stretcher, was carried past them.

“He finished it himself while I was in the shop this afternoon.” Zoe smiled. “Wanted to look sharp for his first outside bonfire.”

“You certainly got a memorable first bonfire story,” Jak said wryly. “Good thing you made a Colossus—we could use the backup.”

“Maybe not yet,” Anden said. He glanced at Zoe and they shared a sad smile.

“Well, whenever you’re ready, you’ll be in good hands” Lucky Jak settled a friendly hand on Anden’s shoulder. ”No one knows javelins like your mum—and thanks for the rush job this afternoon, Zoe.”

“Anything for my favorite Freelancer.”

Jak smiled. “I’d best get it back to work.” Seeing Anden’s sober expression, he said, “That was a fright, lad, but remember why we’re out here. They’re still alive and we’re still alive. Surviving the fights makes us stronger.”

Anden was silent for a moment, then gave Lucky Jak a firm nod.

“That’s the way.” Jak returned the nod. “Brave season to you both!”

Anden’s serious eyes watched Jak resume his patrol, and Zoe hoped the concern in her own eyes wasn’t too obvious. “Ready to head home, love?”

Anden turned his head and held her eyes for a moment.

“Maybe not yet.” He pushed his chin up with a shade of defiance that made pride replace some of Zoe’s concern. “You said that cider was fresh?”

“Best of the year,” she replied warmly. “Shall we?”

“Wait—I almost forgot!” Anden started to open his pack, then paused. “I dunno, maybe it’s silly now, but… this is the reason I was late.”

“Don’t worry about that, it all—” Zoe stared at the mask Anden held, its turquoise surface glowing in the firelight.

“Oh, that color is beautiful! Wait, is that…?”

“Yeah, it’s my old Ranger mask. I felt bad you didn’t have one for the bonfire because you were helping me. I saw the paint you bought when I got the orange for my helmet, and I thought...well. Sorry it’s not a new one.”

Tears pricked the back of Zoe’s eyes. “Anden, this is lovely. Thank you so much.”

Anden smiled self-consciously. “No problem, Mum.”

Zoe quickly wiped her eyes and pulled the mask over her face. “We might need to get some caramel corn to go with the cider so we can show off our gorgeous masks in two lineups.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Anden said, donning his helmet. He linked his arm through hers as they set off, the colors of their masks dancing in the flickering light.

Special thanks to Brianne Battye, Ryan Cormier, Mary Kirby, Cathleen Rootsaert, Jay Watamaniuk, Patrick Weekes, and my lads, with love.

#Anthem #Anthem game #Anthem stories #Engineer Zoe #folks the call and response of #brave seasons #MAY THEIR BONES BE PICKED CLEAN #I will never recover #Karin Weekes

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vmheadquarters · 5 years

Link

Fifteen years ago, when viewers first met Jason Dohring’s Logan Echolls, he was introduced as a “psychotic jackass.” Logan has come a long way since then. As Neptune High’s resident bad boy, Logan tormented then eventually romanced Veronica Mars (Kristen Bell), launching one of television’s most beloved couples.

Three seasons and one fan-based movie later, Dohring returns to play his now iconic character for the long-awaited fourth season of Veronica Mars, which premieres July 26 on Hulu.

About six weeks after he finished filming, Paste had the chance to talk to Dohring about playing Logan as an adult, reuniting with executive producer Rob Thomas as well as Bell, the long-standing appeal of the franchise and what to expect in this darker, more grown-up season.

Paste: Here we are five years after the movie and 15 years after the show first premiered, how surprised were you when you got the call about Hulu greenlighting a Season Four?

Jason Dohring: With the movie, Rob Thomas had an idea of how many fans were out there but I don’t think he expected 90,000 fans contributing. We ended up signing 8,000 posters. It took us 22 hours. We left outgoing voice mail messages for people on their phones. We wound up raising six million dollars. That sort of went so well that Rob wanted to bring it to several places. He was always keeping us in the loop saying I think there’s a chance this is going to go forward. We are pretty certain of this so please keep your schedule open if you can and then he found a home at Hulu.

Paste: How would you describe the season?

Jason Dohring: They put a lot into it and I think it’s going to be really special and dark and more grown-up than when we were all in high school, of course. But I don’t think it will just be a bland continuation. I think it will be something new and exciting and we are bringing on new characters. It will be something pretty cool that I don’t think people have seen in this world before.

Paste: Where are Veronica and Logan when we first see them again?

Dohring: Logan’s life was totally destroyed. He was coming from a really bad place, a broken family and sort of decided to turn his life around and enroll in the military, and that’s what he’s been doing so he’s kind of in a good place. And Veronica is in a different place than we’ve seen her as the show starts out and that’s part of the arc for both of those characters as they come from different places that were flopped in the show originally; I am kind of the stable influence on Veronica and she’s kind the oddly adjusted one to her current life.

Paste: How do you reconnect with Logan after all that time has passed? Is it hard to find him again so to speak?

Dohring; It’s a pair of shoes you’ve worn for three years. I think Philip Seymour Hoffman said the light will switch behind your eyes, you can kind of click into that person and you are that person and that’s true of this guy. I think Kristen talks about this as well in that she just feels comfortable in that skin. There’s the adjustment with that of the five years of military experience that’s kind of shaped that underlining guy, but that guy is always there and it’s just adding elements to that to become, I guess, a broader character.

Paste: Fans are, shall we say, deeply invested in the Logan/Veronica relationship. Are you surprised by how much this couple has connected with people? When you were playing it did you have any idea they would become one of the great TV romances?

Dohring: No, certainly not. Doing my best work, I’m not worried about what the audience is thinking. I’m just doing what I feel. I think it’s real emotions and real relationships. We really gave it our all when we were on the show and I think that’s what people respond to and makes it timeless in a sense and when we first started out this character was never supposed to be the romantic interest at all. Kristen was such a great actress and to work with her was so beautiful and igniting. She would respond so beautifully in a scene and it created this situation where this character that was never supposed to be involved with her became involved. Basically, in the writer’s room after several episodes, they came to Kristen and I and they pulled us aside and said, “Okay you guys are going to be together.” And we both said, “What the fuck? There’s no way!”

And they said, “You better start warming up to each other because it’s going to happen.” And we were both just honestly stunned. And I remember how hard it was in a scene in the third or fourth episode, I had to put my hand on her shoulder and it was so against what I had played the whole time it was impossible as an actor to do this and they were like you have to do it. It took every ounce of strength I had to just put a hand on her shoulder.

Paste: What do you think it is about them that has connected with the audience?

Dohring: Nobody kind of saw it coming. I’m kind of the immoral, but there’s always a redeeming aspect and her kind of struggle with that part of the relationship. The violence and unpredictability of Logan is against what she wants, and she also has a strong, opinionated point of view. Sort of that clashing and working together. I think there’s great romance potential in relationships like that.

Paste: You’ve been on UPN, The CW, and a movie set with this character. What was different about filming at Hulu?

Dohring: Maybe it’s my lack of perception but a set feels like a set to me. Aside from the craft service food being at a level 10. The one difference I did see as they are setting up the shot I would take a look and be like, “Jesus that’s beautiful.” The quality of cinematography is at a high level. I think it’s just beautifully shot.

Paste: I know you don’t want to give too much away about this new season, but is there anything else you can tell me about Season Four?

Dohring: Right from the start you’re seeing language and humor at the same time. I think Rob had presented Hulu with a script with a lot of swear words at the start and they did not want to do it in that direction, is the way I remember it. He came up with this great humor and banter and how Veronica would not be using swear words in the show with her dad, and they have this cute game much to my character’s dismay, because it’s annoying. So you’re going to see really great writing and there’s just a big mystery. The mystery is a very big part of it, but yet the relationships are still there.

Paste: What can you tell me about the season-long mystery?

Dohring: It will be very interesting. I don’t think people are going to figure it out. What was really cool that I thought Rob did is he didn’t just want to present a mystery that people would not be able to solve, and if you go back over the show you’ll see it the second time you watch it. All the clues are there. Seventy-five to ninety percent of the people might not fully get it, but if you’re paying attention … I kind of knew the end, and I could see in the writing the hints and stuff like that. Rob didn’t want to make people feel like they were cheated by totally leading someone the wrong way and then solving the mystery at the end. So it’s cool for those interested in paying attention, they might be able to figure out some clues early on, and it’s obviously going to be a big surprise as Rob Thomas shows often are.

Paste: So you knew how everything worked out before you began filming?

Dohring: Halfway through one of the directors told me the ending and I was like, “Oh my gosh!” I could see from there, in the scripts following, that the hints were all there. It was beautiful. You’ll be able to see it. I probably wouldn’t but smarter people would.

Paste: Did it make it harder to play knowing the ending?

Dohring: To be honest I don’t like to know. It was one of the conversations where it just kind of fell out. But it even had a twist beyond the twist. The Rob Thomas extra step. I think it should be trademarked.

Paste: Can you see the franchise continuing? A Season Five?

Dohring: If it makes sense for Hulu. I think they’ve done a fantastic job in that way to set themselves up for a great success. Rob turned in the scripts and Kristen was fabulous per usual. So far it looks good to carry on as far as I can tell. I think Rob definitely has intentions and I think Kristen does as well. I’ve seen some of the final scenes and I think it’s just going to be awesome in the way it can set up for a new series.

Paste Another big difference from when you first played Logan is now you are working with Princess Anna of Arendelle.

Dohring: It’s cool to see Kristen. She is such a good sport with all that stuff. I’m sure it’s pretty intense with the amount of fan love and interest and broad social appeal of a movie like that. My daughter sings all the Frozen songs and has no idea what the words mean but she’s word for word. It’s just amazing. I would love to sing a duet with Kristen but I can’t get over myself to ask her.

Paste: You’ve now had a decade and a half with the franchise. Plenty of shows have had revivals, plenty of shows have been cult hits, but few have been as popular as Veronica Mars for as long as Veronica Mars. The fanbase has not wavered. Can you put your finger on why?

Dohring: I think to some degree it starts with fantastic writing. I really noticed the sense of care by everybody who was involved in the project initially. Coming right out of acting class, and wanting to try everything I learned in acting class in every single scene, and walking backwards into scenes. Really talking, really listening, having real emotions. There was such care by all the actors. Everybody had a great sense of wanting it to be great.

There was a level of insouciance, a carefree attitude, very light and very witty and then you’ll just drop in moments of intense drama and family relationship. For me it basically boiled down to real emotions, and we are all trying to do our very best and create something special. I’ve had multiple people come up to me and say, “I’ve named my son Logan.” And I’m like, “Why did you do that? I’m not the greatest guy on the show.”

Some people come up and say, “This show got me through high school.” And for me that was unbelievable sort of idea that it could impact people and actually help them. You have an underdog character who fights no matter what for the right thing and seeing the good and bad in all characters on the show. I think Rob walked that beautifully. When somebody is totally irredeemable, he does something that was heroic. You could never really put your finger on anybody as a straight bad guy or a straight good guy. We walked the line of grey beautifully.

#veronica mars hulu revival #vm spoilers

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pixieungerstories · 5 years

Text

Housemates 15

Kogan was waiting on a park bench. He was wishing he smoked. If he had a cigarette, the campus security guard wouldn’t be watching him so intently. He would have a reason to be here. As it was he was just lottering. That wasn’t as socially acceptable as a cigarette break.

He snorted quietly to himself. Yeah. If he was out here getting lung cancer and sharing that opportunity with everyone who walked passed, he would be fine. As it was not bothering anyone was going to get him in trouble.

The library was closed. The campus coffee shop was closed. He was a big scary orc, lurking in the dark, waiting to pick up a co-ed. He stood up and went into the building. He could waste some time if he found a bathroom and took a piss. Maybe. Vinny’s class was supposed to be over five minutes ago. He didn’t want to miss her if she came out while he was hiding from security. Part of the deal was someone to walk her home from these-

“Sir! Can I see some ID?”

Shit. Well, at least it was ‘sir’ and not ‘Hey! You!’ He knew this song and dance. He turned and faced the man in his twenties, who was armed, but mostly holding a big flash light like a billy club. “It’s in the inside pocket of my jacket.” He explained, moving slowly as he unzipped his coat.

“I bet you don’t have a student ID,” the kid snarked.

“Nope. But I can show you my Veterans ID if it helps.” Kogan handed the kid his drivers license. The brat didn’t even look at it, but kept shining the light in Kogan’s eyes.

“Can you tell me your business on campus tonight, sir?”

“One of the people in my building is taking a Chem lab here tonight. If you notice my address is right across the park. She asked me to walk her home rather than have to cross campus alone in the dark.”

“Night labs were over ten minutes ago, sir. Can you be more specific about which student or which class?”

“Chem 403, and her name -”

“Ah!” he interrupted with sudden understanding. “Yeah. Dr Gilchrist always goes at least ten - fifteen minutes long on these things.” He tossed the wallet back at Kogan without more than glancing at the ID. “Are you walking her home on Wednesday and Friday too?”

Kogan narrowed his eyes, “She said the lab was only Monday and Wednesday, but yeah, either me or someone from the building will be walking her home.”

“Kogan! Hey, Stu!”

The security guy finally pointed his flashlight at the ground, “Vinny? I thought you lived with your mom.”

“Yeah, well, I have Math in the morning and you know how it is.”

“If you are living just across the park, you can always call one of us to walk you home,” Stu offered.

“Nah, safe walks aren’t a priority and I don’t want to get stuck on campus for an extra hour if you are called out to something more exciting. You giving Kogan a hard time?”

Without the light shining in his eyes, Kogan could read the security guard's ID, Stuart Johnstone. He made a point of memorizing the employee number as well.

“Uh, yeah. He’s lurking on campus, after dark, wearing a biker jacket.”

Vinny gave Stu an easy grin, “Well, no one is going to try anything when I have him walking me home.”

“Are you sure you want to leave with this guy, Vinny?”

“Absolutely. He’s been driving me to church every Sunday all summer. Anyway, I have Math at 8AM, so we are going to head out. Unless you want to card me too.”

Stu pretended to consider it. “Nah. Have a good night, Vinny,” and in a much cooler tone he added, “Kogan.”

Vinny looped her hand over Kogan’s elbow as she led him away. That was new. They were well into the park before she spoke. “I am so sorry about Stuart. I think he’s on nights so he doesn’t have to interact with people.”

Kogan just snorted. “Derick says I need to make you go to sleep because class tomorrow is early.”

Vinny nodded. “Straight home, brush my teeth, off to sleep. As soon as I just finish up a few notes.”

Two hours later, Kogan gave up on the pointed looks. He brought Thea into Vinny’s room. He walked over to the desk, closed her books and said, “You have a full day of classes tomorrow. You only have six hours to sleep. Now. Are you going to go to bed and stay there or do I need to make Thea tie you to the bed frame.

Vinny stared at him. Thea looked appalled. Kogan kept talking. “I mean it. Brush your teeth then go to sleep and since we’ve already had this conversation four times, what do you expect me to do to make it stick? If you aren’t getting more sleep than you would at your Mom’s she isn’t going to let you stay here.”

Vinny scuttled off, brushed her teeth and put on her jammies in the bathroom then was back in her room and under the covers in a flash. Kogan was still watching. Thea was still looking awkward.

“Right!” He announced. Then he crawled into her bed with her. “Thea, you take the other side. And poke me if I snore.” The drider looked decidedly uncomfortable with the idea, but rested his arachnoid half on the floor so that he could rest it humanoid half over the bed. Vinny gave him a sleepy smile and pulled Thea’s arm around her as she let Kogan spoon her.

The kid was more tired than Kogan had guessed because it only took a few moments before her body went slack and her breathing slowed. Thea tried to ease away from her.

“Don’t you dare!” Kogan hissed. Thea froze. “She could have asked you to leave. If you really want to go, fine. But this is your chance to get used to the idea of being close to her without sticking your foot in your mouth.”

Thea nodded and settled back onto the bed.

-----

Vinny woke with a curse when her alarm went off. She knew she wasn’t running with Derick on Tuesdays and Thursdays now that classes had started, but it was still a jolt thinking she was late. She wiggled away from Thea, crawled over a snoring Kogan, grabbed her clothes and headed to her bathroom to get ready. It was surprisingly cool that morning. She made a note to find some slippers and make sure the curtains were closed before bed.

As she bounced into the kitchen and headed to the industrial grade coffee pot, She waved at Derick eating his supper before bed. Tristan threw another bagel into the toaster for her.

“Supper tonight will be a little early. I’m making stew so that everyone one can help themselves when they are ready.”

Bazur nodded as he read the paper. “What is on that you need to be out of here early?”

Vinny made her coffee and carried it to the table. “Today I have two classes from eight until eleven, homework from noon until three, then shopping and cooking so that I can be at work at the coffee shop from seven to ten. Then I come home and start all over.”

“When do you sleep?” Bazur asked.

Vinny blinked as she sipped her coffee. “From eleven until six, then running before breakfast and back to class. Monday, Wednesday and Friday I have three classes, 9am, 10am and 12pm. Then homework, grocery shopping, and cooking dinner before my Monday/Wednesday lab from 7:30 to 10:30.”

“Closer to 10:45,” Kogan rumbled from the stairs. “Then homework until almost 1am or I threaten you to make you sleep. And you are working 8-4 on the weekend. This doesn’t seem sustainable.”

“It’ll be fine. I don’t have the party lifestyle. Trust me, I’ve been managing for the last three years. I got this.”

Tristan cleared his throat, “I bet that your mom has been taking care of groceries and cooking for the last three years.”

“Yeah, but I also had a hour bus ride to and from campus everyday.” The guys around the table shared a look. “What?” she asked.

It was Dren that cleared his throat. “You could study on the bus. The time you are working for us is coming out of your sleep time isn’t it?”

Vinny looked a little guilty. “It will be fine,” she repeated. “I only have a year left. It will be fine.”

No one said anything.

It took less than two weeks for it to become apparent that it wasn’t fine. The second Sunday after classes started she fell asleep on the bus on her way to work. She missed the start of her shift and had to get a cab from the end of the bus line to the cafe. The cab fare ate up most of the income for the day. She also got a lecture from her boss not to make a habit of it. Her concentration was shot. She was making mistakes in customer orders and her penmanship deteriorated to the point where she was having a hard time reading her notes.

She came home and while the chickens were roasting, tried to figure out her budget to see if she could give up the weekday shifts at the cafe. There was lots of muttered curses at the computer.

Kevin was watching from the shadows, “Why don’t you get a loan?” Vinny froze. “Lots students have loans,” he continued.

“I can’t.”

“I know it would suck, but it would only be one year, not four.”

“No. I really can’t. My father makes too much money for me to qualify for an official student loan and I can’t get a line of credit without a co-signer. Ma’s credit is still shot from the divorce so she can’t.”

“And your dad won’t co-sign for you?” It was the wrong thing to say. Kevin could tell as soon as it was out. There wasn’t away to take it back.

“My father is busy with his new family and his younger wife out west. We haven’t had so much as a Christmas card from eight years. I did call to ask when I first got into school. He told me to figure it out. Said it would help me build character.” Vinny closed her laptop with a snap and went upstairs to her room.

Kevin kept an eye on the chicken. When Vinny didn’t come back downstairs, he was the one to turn off the oven when the timer beeped.

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lassluna · 5 years

Text

Christmas in the Tower

AN: Hi @bleebug Merry Christmas Eve! It’s me, your Knight Rook Secret Santa! I had a lot of fun conversing with you through asks. I hope you like this little story.

It’s Christmas time, but despite all of Killian’s planning for giving his daughter the best Christmas yet, things still don’t go as planned…

ao3 FFn

“Papa! Papa!” Did you feel that?”

He blinks, feeling shaken awake suddenly.

“Papa are you awake?” He smirks at the blonde lass doing the shaking. He isn’t exactly surprised; especially since he sees Alice, practically bouncing on her feet, still in her nightgown, illuminated by the candle by the bed.

“No.” He responds, closing his eyes but he can’t help the grin.

“But you responded.” She points out, he can practically hear the eye roll from her, and she’s nearly 10 years old, filled to the brim with attitude.

Liam would say she acts identical to how he was at this age.

“Perhaps I am awake then Starfish.” He murmurs snapping one eye open. “The question is why are you? The sun’s not even up.” He asks, maneuvering out of his hammock. In one swift movement he grabs his daughter, making her shriek and laugh as he tickles her.

“Do you feel that?” Alice asks between laughs. He stills, trying to understand what she felt.

A shiver crawls up his spine.

“It’s cold.” She announces with a smile.

“Oh?” He replies, already knowing where her mind is going. “And what does that mean darling?”

He smiles grows wider. “Christmas Papa.” She insists, like it’s completely obvious. “Christmas is coming!”

Considering Alice was trapped in the tower, Killian always tries to come up with ways to keep her happy and entertained. He hates that every day was so monotonous for her so he decided to come up with as many special days as possible. They had a holiday for just about anything he could think of. Some days were Mr. Rabbit birthdays.

(He was from Wonderland so he had birthdays several times a year according to 5 year old Alice.)

Other days were silent days, where they tried their best to be as absolutely quiet as possible. An extra hour is added to her bedtime is added if Alice won.

There was a Tea Day, Pirate Day, Papa’s Day, Daughter’s Day, Marmalade Day, anything she could think of, he tried his best to make happen.

However, of all the holidays they had, Christmas had to be Alice’s favorite.

She’d read about it in a book when she was young, a holiday from a realm Killian himself had never visited and became absolutely obsessed with it. Therefore they had to celebrate it as well. Killian would never pass up an opportunity to make Alice happy. So he did a bit of research on ‘Christmas’ through a bunch of stories and fables.

“When do you think Christmas will be here?” Alice asks jumping up and down. They’d decided that Christmas was the day that snow fell around their tower, usually occurring a few weeks after it starts to get cold.

Killian shrugs. “It’ll get here when it gets here.” He assures her. “In the meanwhile, why don’t you get me your favorite book, and I’ll make us some tea?” He asks.

Killian isn’t surprised at all when the book she picks is a Christmas book.

Within the next few weeks, Killian plans for the special holiday, trying to find the best things to make Alice really enjoy it.

First off, he’d found a new set of books, a brand new chess set (as they had several missing pieces, slowly being replaced by random do-dads they found) and best of all, he’d found a sorceress who would make a charm to let it snow inside for a bit.

Secondly, he’d found a tree big enough for Alice to decorate, but small enough that he could haul it up to her in the tower. It wasn’t exactly a pine like in all the books, but Alice always loved their make-shift Christmas tree.

It wasn’t exactly practical, but Killian would gladly clean up puddles of waters if it meant Alice got to really feel snow for once.

It would be absolutely perfect.

“I’m almost done with your present Papa!” Alice says smugly, ink smeared on her cheeks and splattered on her dress.

“Oh really?” he asks. She nods excitedly. “I’m sure I’ll love it.” He says taking off his jacket and putting it on its hook. The tower seems warmer than it should. However, he notices Alice wrapped up in her favorite wool blanket.

“Feeling alright sweetheart?” He asks. He always worries over the possibility of Alice getting sick. He knew from experience that neither healer, nor a midwife would dare come near the tower. There was a bug going around in town, so he’d hate to transfer it to his girl.

Alice nods. “Of course Papa.” She confirms. He places his hand on her forehead and feels her temperature. She feels perfect.

“Are you alright Papa?” She asks.

Killian nods. “Of course.” However, maybe he was a little tired from the walk from the village, he’s usually fine, but Killian wasn’t as young as he used to be. He knew he was aging, saw the streaks of white in his hair, he’d jokingly blame Alice for it, her and her tendency to climb on the shelves as a toddler.

Perhaps he just needs more sleep. He’d feel better in the morning.

Perhaps he was fine then, but the next morning, he felt a bit less than fine. His throat felt soar and talking just made it worse. He also had a splitting headache.

Also, when had it gotten so cold in the tower?

Getting up that morning, Killian felt every day of his 300 years and it was awful. He could barely remember the last time he felt this way, sure he knew he was getting older, naturally older, but still. Despite it, he got breakfast ready for Alice before she woke up. Today was the day Alice finished making her decorations and he’d go haul the tree up to her.

“Papa? You don’t look so good.” She points out; a frown on her face.

“I’m fine Starfish.” He assures her. She shakes her head, bounds up to him and places her small hand towards his face. She pulls back sharply.

“Papa, you’re really, really hot.” She points out. “Your eyes are red and you sound funny.”

He shakes his head. “I’m fine Al, don’t worry, just didn’t get much sleep last night.” It’s a lie, he had been surprisingly tired the night before, had gone to bed nearly immediately after Alice.

She doesn’t seem so sure, watching him quizzically (reminding him of Liam with that look of theirs) until he finishes making her breakfast; oatmeal with blueberries. Once she has her food, she is completely enwrapped in her food.

She doesn’t at all notice Killian check on the make shift pulley on the tower, nor descend down the tower far slower than usual. Killian’s coughing and wheezing by the bottom, feeling completely drained by the effort.

Perhaps there’s possibly a problem. Killian thinks to himself, leaning against the cool stone. Perhaps Papa isn’t truly invincible. He shakes his head.

He has to get the tree, it’s only a ways away; he reminds himself. The last thing Killian wants to do is disappoint his daughter on Christmas. Alice waits all year long for this day, for these events. After all Alice is prevented from doing, Killian refuses to be the cause of any more pain.

So he does what he has to do, he pulls himself forward to find the perfect tree and get it to his Starfish.

Perhaps it would have been best to get a smaller tree. Killian muses. He’d imagined it smaller.

Or he’s just getting old and frail and sick. Captain Hook could lug two of these trees double the size without breaking a sweat. Killian thinks bitterly. It’s a toxic line of thinking, but he just can’t help it. He can barely move after lugging it through the entire forest on his back, now the idea was using the pulley to bring it up the tower…

He looks around, then up at his daughter’s worried face.

“Are you ok Papa?” She calls.

He’s fine. He can do this.

Killian secures the tree tightly with various knots and loops, and then begins pulling the rope. He has it secure around his hook, using his entire body to haul the tree up. It’s a slow long process but not an unusual one. He does this occasion when he gets large amounts of supplies from the local village. Those were often heavier than this tree.

He’s nearly at the top, so close; he can see Alice’s smiling face. He can imagine her dancing and laughing around the tree as they decorate it, humming lyrics to songs they’ve never heard; making up the tunes as they go along.

Killian can see Alice pressed against the barrier, trying to reach out and help the tree along, its so close.

He doesn’t know if it’s the exertion, or the cold that causes it, but then he starts to cough. It was the body jerking kind of cough. It was all it took for him to lose his focus and the tie around his hook to slip off.

He didn’t even need to look up to know what the terrible crash he heard was from. His heart practically shattered in his chest as he saw the perfect little tree reduced to splinters by a mere slip of the hand.

Alice was looking down at them looking absolutely devastated.

“I’m so, so sorry Al.” He calls up to her. “I’ll go find another one!” He assures her, already thinking where he could go to find a better tree. It was a bit farther but he could do it, he coul- He was interrupted again by a wave of coughing that shook him to the core.

“Papa!” Alice shouts, he can see her banging on the barrier, each hit making the magic appear briefly. “Come home.” She insists.

“The tree-“

“Come home.” She says sternly. “Please Papa.”

Killian could never resist a ‘Please Papa.’ So he does make the climb, during which, he almost loses his balance a few times, almost becomes a pile of splinters himself.

He staggers inside, gasping and grateful for the tower’s warmth. Alice collided into him, making him lose his balance.

“I’m so sorry Alice.” He insisted. “I can go back and get another tree; we can still have a great Christmas.” He didn’t want to disappoint her. He couldn’t bare it.

But Alice shook her head smiling. “You’re sick Papa.” She reminds him.

“I’m fine Al.”

“Papa, you always tell me that no matter how much I deny it, the truth is the truth.” She says, sounding way too smart for her own good. “You need to rest. We can have a great Christmas without a tree.”

He could see her mind already racing. “Are you sure?” He asks again.

She nods, pushing him towards her bed.

“Alice, I have my own bed I can…” But she was insistent, even at 10 years old.

“You need a proper rest if you’re going to get better. I’ll take the hammock, I’m a big girl Papa.” Perhaps it was a testament to how badly he was feeling that he let his ten year old take care of him. He let her help him with his coat, and tuck him into bed.

It reminded him so much of her namesake.

Killian doesn’t remember closing his eyes. He just remembers opening them and seeing, where there once was a list of chores painted on the walls, now was a painting of a large Christmas tree in various shades of green.

(He had a feeling she did that on purpose)

He could barely move the next day, his breathing was worse, and according to Alice he felt hotter than the day previous.

Alice to her credit, refused to let him out of the bed, she made him tea and marmalade sandwiches.

“We’re going to get you all better Papa.” She insists, as he lays back and watches her decorate her tree. Her hand made ornaments secured with pins and glue. Garland made from paper and paint rather than cranberries as they were far too heavy for the pins and the glue. “And we can still have Christmas.”

He smiles and laughs at how much fun Alice is having. He thinks perhaps he hasn’t ruined everything. By the time Alice is finished, the tree looks absolutely beautiful.

He knows he’s too sick to go back into town for the new chess set, but at least he has the charm and the books, Alice can play in the snow right here inside and she could read the books while he cleaned up the water. Killian knows she’ll love it.

“How are you feeling Papa?” Alice asks after a bit, “I can warm up some broth.” She offers.

He shakes his head, he feels fine. He feels perfect here with Alice…

“Papa, you’re still really hot.” She sounds worried, but Killian can’t imagine why. Milah comes over, tucking Alice close to her.

“He’ll be fine Alice, he just needs rest.” She assures her. But Alice doesn’t look satisfied.

“Milah?” He calls. For some reason he doesn’t think Milah should be here, but he can’t remember why. She’s as beautiful as ever, looking every bit The Pirate Queen.

“Milah’s not here Papa.” Alice assures him. “Papa, it’s just the sickness talking, you need to tell me what to do to make you better.

“Just let him rest sweetheart, your father will be fine with a little rest.” Milah says, she takes his hand and holds it tight, he doesn’t want to let go. He’s so tired all of a sudden… “You’ve raised a beautiful young girl Killian.”

“Just let me rest Alice, Milah is here…she’ll watch over me…” He repeats. Milah never used to leave his side. Back before…before….

“She looks so much like you, she’s strong and resourceful, she can handle anything the world throws at her.” Killian nods in agreement.

“Where’ve you been Milah?” He asks, because seeing her here reminds him how much he’s missed her.

“Just watching over you my love. You’ve suffered for so long, but finally you found peace haven’t you?” He shakes his head. There is no peace, not in this tower, not without being free…

“Papa? She’s not here. Papa. You need to stay awake and tell me what to do…” Alice says, she sounds frantic, but he can’t imagine why…

“Then let’s be free Killian.”

“Papa?”

“Papa!”

Killian is cold when he wakes. And wet. It’s an odd sensation if he’s being honest.

“Papa?” He blinks and it takes a moment to open his eyes.

It’s dark out. He didn’t remember it getting so dark. He blinks again and he sees Alice’s face in his view, she’s putting something on his head, it’s we and dripping, but also strangely solid…like…snow?

“Starfish?” He responds. She’s drenched, bundled up in his pirate jacket. Her eyes are red and tear streaked. But she’s smiling now.

“Are you with me Papa?” she asks.

“Where else would I be?” Because Killian doesn’t exactly understand what happened, how did it become night time and why is there snow in the tower?

However, he sees the blue charm around Alice’s neck and the reality hits him suddenly. “You were burning up.” Alice insists. She sounds hurried and scared. “I’m sorry for riffling through your things, but I didn’t know what to do, you were talking to Milah and then Liam and then even someone named Swan…”

His fever must have been really high if he was talking to birds…

“I found this and it was so cold, but when I touched it there was Snow everywhere!” She admits with a grin. He could only imagine the face she had when she saw it. “I used it to cool you off. I’m sorry, I know you were saving it for something, you must have been for it to be in your super-secret pocket of your jacket…”

“How did you know about that?”

Alice rolls her eyes. “You used to hide candy in there Papa, of course I found it.” His clever girl.

“I’m so sorry Alice, that was supposed to be one of your Christmas presents.” He admits. “The other is in my other jacket pocket.” He explains because if the charm was ruined, at least she could have the books.

“You mean these Papa?” Alice asks, picking up a wet stack of books, edges ruined by water; because of course that had to get ruined too. “It’s alright Papa only some of the bages got damaged, we can write in all the missing words. They’ll be our own stories!” She says excitedly, practically beaming.

His beautiful girl, always trying to see the best of every situation, he smiled at her optimism. “I thought you deserved to have a day in the snow for once, but you had to use it to help me, I destroyed the tree and your presents are back in town…” He trails off. He’d ruined everything.

Alice shakes her head.

“Papa the only thing I need to have a good Christmas is you.” She says burrowing into him. “I was so scared that you wouldn’t wake up Papa, that I’d be alone. You being my Papa is the only thing I need.” Killian hugged her back, bringing his precious daughter close.

“You’re the only thing I need to Starfish.” He assures her.

“Do you think I can give you my present?” She asks with a hesitant voice. He nods.

“Of course darling.”

Alice goes to the shelf, fumbling to climb to a hidden nook she keeps; and pulls out a box, wrapped with her drawings and tied with a string. She places it in his lap.

Killian tries to be careful; keeping his snow drenched hands from damaging any of her pictures and carefully unwraps it.

It’s their chess set, but all the pieces are there. “Did you find the missing pieces?” He asks in surprise, picking up a black rook which he knew for a fact had been missing for months.

“Nope.”

He feels it in his hand and then he realizes. “You made it out of clay.” He turns it over, seeing her name etched in the bottom.

“The knight was the hardest one, but I like how it came out.” She insists. He picks that up as well, a white one this time. She’s right; it looks remarkably similar to its counterpart.

“Merry Christmas Papa.”

“Merry Christmas Alice.”

#knightrook #knightrook ff #knight rook secret santa #bleebug #lassluna

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likethetailofacomet · 6 years

Text

Melt

Drake x Claire

Author’s Note: So fair warning, this one got away from me a little bit and is almost double the length of most of the rest of the chapters in this series, but a lot happens in Lythikos. Claire has an overdue discussion with Maxwell, Olivia stirs the pot, and things heat up in the cold.

NSFW all the way at the end. Sorry, you’re gonna have to work for it just like Claire. ;)

tagging: @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @notoriouscs @gardeningourmet @natalievgoodehenry @ooo-barff-ooo @nekkidmolerat If you would like to be added to the tags please let me know!

The drive to the Nevrakis Chateau was about 5 hours. As soon as the altitude had started to change, so had the road, winding it's way through the mountain range making each mile take much longer than normal. Maxwell had fallen asleep beside her about 20 minutes into the drive, after excitedly outlining the day ahead of them.“Olivia's winter estate is amazing!” He assured her. “You like skiing? Bam! We can do that. Ice skating your thing? No problem, there's a huge lake that's pretty much permanently frozen.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Want to warm up with a certain someone? Nothing nicer than a fire to snuggle by!”

Like magic the blood in her veins rushed warmly throughout her body. She imagined falling asleep against Drake's broad chest, the crackling fire casting an orange glow across the two of them as snow fell heavily outside. She imagined the way his arms might snake around her body, pulling her gently closer, how he might also drift off to sleep, how their breathing might fall into sync. She snapped herself from the daydream when Maxwell caught her staring, slack jawed, into space.

“Uh, Claire?” he was waving his hand in front of her eyes. “Claire?! You okay?” he had a look of shock on his face.

“Y-yeah, yes. I'm good. Fine, fun! Just...excited for the fun.” Fine, fun? Excited for the fun? You're lucky this is Maxwell and not Bertrand, Claire.

“Yes! So. Much. Fun!” Maxwell called out in a sing song voice, completely convinced by her 'couldn't-be-thinner' excuse. After elaborating on exactly how much fun they were about to have, he'd stretched and yawned, just like he had on the flight from New York, and in less than a minute he was out. He's like a golden retriever, Claire mused, taking in his open mouth and raspy snores. So much excitement and then crash!

Pulling into the driveway of the palatial estate, Claire couldn't keep a “wow” from falling from her lips. Evergreens had been planted along the long driveway, shielding the estate from sight until the very last moment, their snow burdened boughs giving way to the turrets and leaded window panes of the chateau. It was beautiful; the original architecture maintained to perfection and updated with all of the modern necessities, and the white blanketed landscape around the house went on for as far as the eye could see. She couldn't wait to stretch her legs and explore, and neither could Maxwell- he was already running up the estate steps. “Meet you for ice skating in 15 Claire! Oh, you're room's the last one on the left corridor, someone will bring your bag in for you, bye!” he called over his shoulder, all in one breath, before disappearing through the front door.

She smiled, shaking her head to herself. Stepping out of the car, her boot immediately hit a patch of ice and she slid backwards, arms going out to her sides to try to steady herself, until thudding hard into someone behind her.

“Watch it, Berkley, haven't you ever been on ice before?” Drake caught her by the shoulders and held her steady at arms length, dropping his hands as soon as she found traction again.

“Yes, and I happen to be an excellent skater...ironically enough,” she cocked her head at him and put her hands on her hips.

“You're not a better skater than me.” he stated matter of factually.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That so, Walker? Guess we'll see about that.” She spun back to the car and grabbed her own bag, ignoring what Max had said about someone bringing it for her. Spinning back towards Drake, she let her voice drop just a fraction before saying “See you on the ice,” with a playful smirk before making her way up the steps towards the front door.

Drake couldn't help but watch her as she walked away. After slipping on the ice she seemed to be making a show of how confident she felt in these conditions, and he hated how much he liked it. “See you on the ice, Berkley,” he muttered to himself, wondering how on Earth she was going to keep from melting it as soon as she touched it. He watched the other ladies shuffling around patches of ice, fearfully clutching onto each other for stability as their drivers carried their luggage in for them. He smiled to himself as he caught Claire hefting her bag onto her other shoulder before vanishing into the estate.

“I see Claire is keeping you on your toes already, my friend.” Liam came up from behind him, clapping a hand to his shoulder, a wide, teasing grin spreading across his face. He'd made a mental note never to refer to her as Lady Claire or Lady Berkley to Drake.

“Cool it, Liam,” he said, shooting his friend a look. Liam had a tendency to get excited about things the moment they show up as thoughts in his head- and why wouldn't he? He's a prince; if he can dream it it's his. If he falls for someone, they fall for him harder. Drake had never known that luxury. Nothing had ever come easy for him. Nothing. He'd developed a tendency that was the exact opposite of Liam's. The moment things showed up as a thought in his head, he was already trying to tell himself not to bother. He simply didn't want to deal with the disappointment, the heartbreak, so he told himself that whatever he thought he wanted wasn't worth it. He was trying to do that with her, but for the first time in years it wasn't working.

Liam put his hands up defensively. “Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it, man.”

“Well...don't, okay. Not...” he looked toward the front door, toward where she'd just been standing in such stark contrast to every other woman he'd ever met. “Not yet.”

It's got to be today, Claire had told herself while she changed into her heavier clothes. She would talk to Maxwell today and tell him the truth. There was no sense hiding it from him. Liam knew, Hana knew...she hoped by now Drake believed her. If it's a problem they can send me back to the bar, she told herself. She cut herself off from finishing the thought with maybe that would be for the best. Maybe it would. But Daniel had told her that she should trust herself, and she trusted him so why not take his advice? She wrapped a chunky plaid scarf three times around her neck, fixed her hair in the mirror, and headed out towards where everyone had started to gather for skating.

Olivia and Liam were gliding arm in arm on the far side of the lake. Maxwell had advised that the pair of them had grown up together and were old friends. In the few, short interactions that Claire had had with Olivia in the boutique and other common areas of the palace, the redhead had been sharp, biting and standoffish. She thought it odd that someone as kind and welcoming as Liam would have a friend as prickly as Olivia, but then she admittedly knew nothing about courtly politics. She watched as Olivia chattered happily away at Liam as he nodded and smiled, but it was clear to Claire that he wasn't paying her much attention. She followed his crystal clear eyes a few feet away, where they landed on Kiara's flowing raven hair as she tossed it, laughing with Penelope as the two women struggled to keep each other steady on their skates. Claire wondered whether Kiara or anyone else noticed the way that Liam found any moment he could to steel glances at the lady from Castelsarreillan. Probably not. No one seemed to notice the same about her and Drake.

“Claire! Hey snowbunny!” Maxwell's cheerful voice rang clearly through the cold air. He was sitting on a bench tying his skates, waving one arm over his head. Now or never, and better when there are more people around.

“Hey, Max,” she strode over and took a seat next to him to lace up her own skates. “Want to do a lap together?” she asked when she was done.

“Claire, I'd like nothing more.” He stood, held his hand out for her and she took it smiling. On the inside her stomach was roiling.

They made their way out onto the ice and linked arms. “How are you at this?” Maxwell asked tentatively.

Claire looped her arm through his and took him on a graceful glide. “You tell me,” she said smirking.

Maxwell was impressed and clearly relieved. Claire had her hands full trying to keep him upright. Looking around it was clear that most of the nobles weren't the outdoorsy type. The second that thought had crossed her mind, Drake sped past her and Maxwell looking happier than she'd seen him since the first night they'd met. Her heart jumped to her throat and she felt a pressing need to get the conversation with Maxwell over with. She waited until they were far enough away from other ears before leveling with him.

“Hey, Max, I uh...I need to tell you something.” She didn't give him time to respond. Doing so would give her just enough time to change her mind and spin a quick lie to cover what she'd said. She continued hastily, “I need you to know the truth about why I came here and the truth is this: I thought that I had a connection with Drake the night of Liam's bachelor party, and I haven't had that in...in a long time and, I needed to see what it meant. And god you were so right that I didn't want to go back to that bar, Max. You have no...no idea how right you were, and...and I” she glanced over at him. His expression was neutral, he was waiting for her to finish. “I'm sorry. I know you and Bertrand were hoping that I'd somehow bring honor to your house but... I'm the wrong girl for that job, Max.” She looked down at her skates, watching the blades bite into the ice below them, too nervous to look back at Maxwell.

“Does Liam know?” Maxwell asked, finally.

“He does. He's...” she smiled despite still feeling bad for letting Maxwell down, “He's actually kind of for it.”

Maxwell smiled, shocking her. “Well if the Prince approves, who am I to say a word?” He nudged her with his elbow playfully. She let out a huge sigh of relief. “Besides, it wouldn't kill Drake to find a little happiness in life,” he rolled his eyes.

They finished their lap around the lake and Claire gave Maxwell a big hug, thanking him for being so understanding. “Look,” he'd said, “I know you're new around here. But marrying the prince really isn't the only reason for the social season, and it's not the only way that you can make your mark on the court.” He squeezed her hand and bounded off to talk to Hana.

A blue blur whizzed past the corner of Claire's vision, and she turned in the direction that it went to see Drake just a few feet away from her, looking like a professional skater. “Hey, Berkley, you ready to prove what you said about being a better skater than me?” He challenged. He was grinning, and without noticing, Claire let out a little bubbly laugh, her own lips pulling up involuntarily at his uncharacteristic display of happiness.

“You're on, Walker,” she called over to him. He closed the distance, blades cutting to a stop and spraying her toes with ice. “Should I skate faster than you, more gracefully than you?” she asked teasingly as she circled him. “What kind of contest should this be? Or maybe I should ask, what kind of contest do you feel like losing?” she was feeling a little more brazen after her talk with Maxwell, and reminded herself to reel it in a bit.

“Do I look like a figure skater? We're racing.” he cocked one eyebrow, looking at her like she had three heads for suggesting anything but a race.

She shrugged, “Like I said, didn't matter to me, I'm flexible,” That's reeling it in?! She scolded herself.

She thought she saw Drake's eyes darken just a bit, thought she heard a slight rumbling growl from the back of his throat before saying, “Berkley, you just go looking for trouble, don't you.”

Smirking, Claire turned away from him and skated over to the edge of the lake. Drake followed, again stopping right in front of her, so so close to her. She felt a flutter in her chest and a shiver though her bones that had nothing to do with the cold. She pointed to where everyone else had gathered, all abandoning their skates. He nodded, staring her in the eye. “On your mark,” she said, crouching into her stance.

He did the same, “get set,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“Go!” she yelled, taking off. He was right on her heels, but she could go faster. She dug deeper, put her head down, and increased her speed. Pulling ahead, she saw that the rest of the group had noticed the race and were watching. Pushing as fast as she could, she reached the other side, slowing by doing a dramatic figure eight to great applause from Liam, Maxwell and Hana.

Drake finished just as she was coming out of her figure eight, a breathless, shocked look on his face. “You...weren't...kidding,” he huffed.

Claire smiled. “Nope. My first job was a skating instructor. Did I forget to mention that?” she stuck her tongue out at him.

He let out a slight chuckle, “Yeah you may have forgotten that detail,” he said. “Good race, Berkley.” His eyes softened but just for a second. As if remembering that the rest of the group was still looking at them, he said, “uh, everyone seems to be waiting for us, so we should head in.”

Claire nodded. The moment was over and she'd have to wait for the next one. He was like a puzzle. A puzzle you could only solve in a certain sequence at a certain time. “Okay, let's head in.” she brushed her hand against his almost imperceptibly as she passed him, but she felt him stiffen at the contact and knew that he had felt something.

Later, after the sun had gone down and everyone had taken hot showers and warmed up, Olivia led the suitors and members of the court into a large sitting room with a roaring fire and several plush couches. “Prince Liam has some stately business to attend to before joining us,” she announced, “but the bar is full, so please, make yourselves comfortable.” They all did as she suggested, and milled about chatting before pouring themselves a second drink and settling onto the various couches.

Claire got herself a drink from the bar; a whiskey on the rocks, and took a seat next to Drake on the couch. “Come to gloat about your win, Berkley?” He took a swig of his drink.

“No way, I'm no sore winner,” she said smiling. “You looked like you were having fun today.”

“I was,” he said with honesty. “Usually courtly functions mean suits and parties, endless droning on of nobles all praising one another for nothing. I like being outside, breathing fresh air.”

“I like that too,” she said. “I don't get enough fresh air in New York. I love that city, but god it can be suffocating.” she took a drink.

As Drake opened his mouth to say something, a tall shadow crossed in front of them, and he went rigid. Looking up, Claire saw their host, Duchess Olivia, clutching a glass of red wine in one hand, the other on her hip. “Lady Claire, that was quite a performance on the ice today,” she said flatly.

“Thank you, Duchess-”

The redhead cut her off, her eyes trained on Drake, red lip curling up. “Be careful though, Lady Claire. Ladies who spend a lot of time with Drake end up vanishing. Isn't that right, Drake dear?” she said, her expression sickeningly sweet.

Drake glared at her, his eyes darkening three shades. “Don’t, Olivia.” He warned in a low growl.

Claire shifted next to Drake uncomfortably. “Hey, Olivia,” she tried to interject.

“How long has it been, Drake, since you’ve heard from Savannah? 8 months? A year? More?”

“I said don’t.” The anger was making his voice shake as he stood abruptly, hands becoming fists.

“And how about dear Lady Isla?” Olivia ignored Drake’s protests and smugly pressed the button she knew would cause the biggest reaction. “She just up and left the night before Landon’s engagement ball, so very unlike her. How long has it been since you’ve heard from her, Drake?” She crossed her arms and hitched one eyebrow high.

“I said, DON’T!” He snarled into Olivia’s face.

“Or what, Walker?” she spat at him. “Lighten up, it was just a joke.” she huffed and took a sip of her wine.

“That's the fucking problem with people like you, Olivia. The world is just a fucking joke.” he growled at her, slamming his empty glass down and stalking past her towards the entry way.

Claire stood from the couch and stared Olivia in the eye. “That was cruel, you know that? You're cold. Why would you do that? Couldn't you see it was bothering him?” She was unprepared for Olivia's seemingly careless approach to people's feelings.

“Of course I could see, Claire, don't be ridiculous,” she stated and went to refill her wine.

Claire looked around but no one else had noticed Drake's departure. Liam wasn't in the room and Maxwell was busy doing some party trick or another on the other side of the room. Making a split decision, Claire left the sitting room and followed Drake out into the night.

Without the sun the air temperature had dropped drastically. Claire was used to cold winters being from the north eastern United States, but she knew that it was too cold to stay out for too long. She needed to find Drake and make him come back inside before one or both of them got hypothermia. She followed his footprints, glad that it hadn't started snowing yet. Glancing up at the sky she could tell by the clouds that that wouldn't be the case for long.

She found him standing in a clearing, hands on his head. She approached slowly, snow crunching beneath her feet. Reaching a hand out, she placed it gently on his back hesitating for half a second before doing so. As her hand made contact with his back she felt him tense up again like he had when she brushed his hand out on the ice. “Drake...” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice, let his shoulders relax. It was frigid outside, and Olivia had just chilled his heart, but the sound of her voice and the weight of her hand on his back sent a comforting warmth through his body. “Berkley,” he croaked. “Why'd you follow me?” he still hadn't turned to face her. He couldn't.

“Drake...I...was worried about you. It's cold, and...” she took a step around to the side of him, peering up at his face as he continued to stare straight ahead. “And what Olivia did was wrong. I” she shook her head. “I don't know what any of that meant, but...” he looked down at her. She looked genuinely upset about what Olivia had done. “but it was wrong of her.” she said, looking up at him and meeting his eyes. She kept her hand on his back as she came fully around to the front of him, their bodies almost touching.

“I...” he closed his eyes again. “I'm not ready to tell you about all that,” he sounded deflated. It was different from his flat, stoic, sarcastic tone. It broke her heart.

“That's okay,” she said. “You don't have to, I just...wanted to make sure you were alright.” She dropped her hand from his back as the other reached up to rest on his chest. He looked down at her, unable to remember a time when anyone but his family or Liam had shown him concern. This woman was changing everything he thought he was sure about.

“It's cold,” she said after a beat. “Let's get back.” she turned back towards the estate.

“Hang on,” he said, hand darting out to grab hers. “Look,” he pointed up at the sky and she followed his finger to see the sky erupting in a brilliant meteor shower.

“Beautiful,” she gasped.

The sky twinkled and glittered like diamonds, but he'd seen it before. He'd never seen her see it, though, and he thought that the awe on her face was more beautiful that anything going on in the sky. “Yeah, it is, isn't it?” he said in a low voice, eyes not moving from her.

They stayed watching the meteor shower for a few minutes until Claire began to shiver. Drake noticed and pulled her to his side, rubbing her arm. She huddled closer as snow began to fall. “Okay,” he said, breaking apart, “let's get you back.” He took her hand tightly and led the way, Claire clutching onto him for safety- she was afraid that if she let go she might lose any hold she had on him.

By the time they had made it back everyone had retired to their rooms for the night, either not caring or not noticing the absence of the commoners. The reddish glow from the dying fire spilled out into the entryway where they stood, breathing heavily from the walk in the cold, both shivering at this point. Claire took a shaky breath before reaching up to Drake's face. She brushed snow out of his wet hair. His hand came up and caught hers and pulled her into the sitting room.

Once inside he shut the door and they collided in a kiss that made the embers in the hearth jealous. Her fingers went to his buttons, shedding his shirt, their lips still locked, tongues entwined, his hands in her hair grabbing fistfuls. Dropping his shirt to the floor she started to remove her own top when he broke the kiss.

“Berkley-” his voice was strained.

“Shh,” she said, moving to kiss the skin behind his ear. A strangled moan fell from his lips. “We have to get these cold, wet clothes off,” she said before returning her lips to his. He moaned again into her mouth at the sensation of her skin pressed to his chest. It set every inch of him tingling, an electric current buzzing through his veins. She feels amazing, he thought to himself, how is this real? How is she real?

They moved to the couch, hands roving over each other, warming themselves against one another. He slid his hand up to cup her breast and she hummed against his lips as his strong fingers kneaded her soft flesh. He could barely breathe for how it felt to touch her. Drake sunk into the corner of the couch, stretching his legs out, and pulled her on top of him. She sighed as he lined her hips up against hi own, and he took her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking, drawing a satisfying gasp from her. One hand was tangled in her hair again, the other pressing lightly on the small of her back. He felt her breath rise and fall with his, his fingertips starting to trail lightly up and down her spine. He'd slowed the kiss down, tongue gently sliding over hers, getting lost in it. They were both lost in it.

Lungs burning with a need for air, Claire reluctantly pulled her lips from his, amazed at how difficult it was to stop kissing him. Gasping, she tilted her head down resting her forehead against his chest. He smells like autumn, she thought, like the air after rain. She felt his fingers unwind from her hair, smoothing it gently now. He placed a delicate kiss behind her ear and she sighed, breath evening out slowly. She shifted her weight to lay against him, placing her cheek against the place where his heart was still thumping wildly. He looped both arms around her body and tightened his hold on her, turning his face to rest against hers, noses touching. They stayed there, not saying anything, neither daring to speak first, until Claire began drifting in and out of sleep.

Drake wanted to stay there all night holding her. He needed the delicious feeling of her warm body pressed against his own. He wanted nothing more than to wake up like that, to see her in his arms in the clear, gentle light of morning with sunbeams dancing through the blinds and through her hair. But he knew that it wouldn't look good for someone to find them like this, half naked and tangled together, sweaty and content. Fighting his desires, he brushed a light kiss to her cheek and she stirred awake, blinking up at him, a small, sheepish smile forming. “Sorry... didn't mean to fall asleep...” she mumbled, stretching and moving to get off of him.

“It's okay,” he said. It's more than okay, he thought. “But we should get to our rooms. Come on, I'll walk you.” He handed her her shirt and she slipped it on as he did the same. They left the room, fingers laced together loosely, and walked in silence until they got to her door.

“Well,” she bit her lip and looked down. “Good night, Drake.”

“Hey, Berkley...before you go...” he dropped his own gaze, pulling his hand up behind his neck. “Thank you. For coming after me, I mean.” He chanced a glance up at her and met her steady gaze.

“You don't have to thank me, I-” she began.

“No, Berkley, I do. You might not understand it but...” he sighed. “Just let me thank you, okay?”

She could see something in his eyes, like he was straining himself. She nodded. “Okay.”

“Good night, Berkley,” he said, moving back from her door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well, Drake,” she said with a yawn, closing the door.

Drake knew he wouldn't be sleeping. He'd be laying in his bed trying to remember how she had fit so perfectly against his chest, how their lips had joined so seamlessly. He would be laying there thinking about what it meant to have someone that he wanted to take a chance on, someone that could melt the ice around his heart.

#learning to love again #trr #trr au #choices trr #drake x mc #drake x claire #drake walker #drake #claire berkley #liam #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #lythikos #melt

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whatamessz · 6 years

Text

Fic “A Song about Breakfast”

I asked for prompts and @dreaming-powder was as lovely to send me one <3 So here are Murdoc and 2D creating music, a mysterious commercial occupying the only TV on Plastic Beach, discussions about jellyfishes and a relatively smooth sea.

Cleaned up and edited version on AO3.

A Song about Breakfast

It’s around six A.M. and 2D sits in front of the huge TV in the living room.The same ancient looking and awfully frantic commercial flares over the flat screen for approximately the thirtieth time since he had opted on residing here this morning. It doesn’t matter. Zapping is pointless. There was only this specific ad on every channel every morning around this time over and over and over.

His brain is pretty much offline anyway and he has stopped questioning occurrences like this a long time ago. He just knows the thing with the endless commercial loop because watching it had happened to become one of his sleeplessness routines here on Plastic Beach and he doubted that Murdoc would care to fix the issue if he would ever tell him.

Sometimes 2D manages to nod off with the telly running, sometimes he just reaches some kind of meditative state which he always considers as the only fitting kind of meditation on a pink island entirely made out of trash.

He snaps out of whatever condition he had reached today when the commercial clock rings again and he is remembered that it’s still an advertisement for an instant breakfast.

His stomach gives a painful growl at that and he realizes just then that he’s hungry. 2D drags himself up and in the kitchen when the obnoxiously cheerful bespectacled TV man asks the off voice if it’s kidding when it promises a full breakfast in only three microwave minutes.

The decision on what to eat quickly becomes overwhelming when he opens the fridge, so he just tiredly reaches for the milk. He looks for the Cheerios and reinserts himself back on his old spot with a full bowl of cereals. Eventually it strikes the magic hour in which the usual program flickers back on and 2D just watches Cartoon Network while he tries very hard not think of long past Sunday mornings with little Noodle.

*** *** ***

It’s noon and he still hasn’t slept, that’s why he sits in the studio now, entirely unprompted, and toys with ideas his sleep deprived brain produces seemingly out of nowhere. The studio is also one of the few places with internet access on this island (though Murdoc had ensured child safety locks in every browser and all of 2D’s or the bands accounts on platforms he’s still allowed to use are thoroughly disabled or have new passwords, however that was possible).

Today’s morning obviously had left its impression. He couldn’t kill the pesky earworm of the jingle from the commercial and thanks to Murdoc’s precautions and the unstable internet connection, it takes him much longer than he would like to admit to sift through a string of 80’s TV spots on YouTube until he finally finds it. He cuts out an audio sample.

By this time, his head is a hellhole of commercial voices, intrusive melodies and his own unconnected thoughts racing.

He starts to work a song around it as a coping mechanism.

Next act. Murdoc himself emerges in the studio’s door. He looks awful.

Like he didn’t sleep in days, too, and that was probably the case, but when he takes in the image of 2D sitting barefoot and straddle-legged on the thick carpet, hunched over his synthesizer, MacBook and notepad scattered around in an apparent working mood, an uncanny huge grin slides across his face, exposing his shark like rotten teeth.

So far, 2D is unenthusiastic about this encounter. He keeps on tinkering with beats from the drum machine and the commercial sample.

“I’m honestly delighted to see you are willing to work even without my gentle requests from time to time,” Murdoc greets him and puts an unnerving emphasis on the word ‘delighted’. 2D only pulls a sardonic expression in answer. He also hasn’t decided yet if he finds Murdoc’s sensible lighter moods more bearable then the… other ones. They’re probably drug-induced anyway.

Not that he was one to talk, he mentally scolds himself. Well, at least he wasn’t like Murdoc, yet. That was his only solace.

2D decides he is too tired and too busy to pick a fight today. Murdoc obviously decides to challenge this resolution and snickers.

“Not quite the Chatty Cathy today hu, sunshine? Well, my night was great, GREAT I tell ya. Threw a party with Cyborg and the pirates. When I’m thinking about it this would be a great name for a band. No wait, scratch that, we already have a great name. And a great band. The GREATEST, if I may say so hun hun hun.” He stops to catch his breath. “Anyway, what are you working on? Doesn’t sound like one of the songs I gave you.”

2D has stopped listening at the very first sentence and scribbles something on his notepad. “’M sorry, what?”

Murdoc sighs, impatient. “The sooong. What are you doing right now? I’m curious.”

“It’s… a new thing. A song… about breakfast,” 2D hears himself saying despite of himself. The truth is, that he wasn’t entirely sure what this was supposed to become.

“About what,” Murdoc snaps incredulous.

“About breakfast,” 2D answers promptly and, to his own surprise, advances a defensive bottom lip. “It’s a song… like a commercial. Catchy, fast living, colorful, you know? Seemingly disposable and about something short lived. Just trying to sell… sss-something for breakfast. Something you can just swallow down when you’re in a hurry.”

Ok, his thoughts are really just running loose right now. He hopes he can remember that later because in this moment the stuff he just bullshat at the same time made miraculous and perfect sense in his poor, tortured head.

Murdoc’s interest suddenly seems piqued. He snatches the notepad from 2D’s thigh and skims over the lines and sentences that may or may not constitute a first attempt on lyrics, nodding appreciatively while he reads. 2D looks up, his face scrunched up insecurely.

Murdoc strides around him, still staring at the notepad and clearly thinking. “Hmmm you know what, this could really work as a concept,” he mutters and lowers himself to the floor with a groan, back to back with 2D.

2D stiffs up at that and considers leaning away.

“Any ideas on how to call it already?” The question hits him offhand and he blinks, unsure.

“Uhn… Little…Pink…stink…fish?” he comes up with, very response delayed.

Suddenly, Murdoc just cracks up and laughs harshly and genuinely until he chokes on his own spit and the laughter turns into a coughing fit.

2D can feel the vibration of it rocking his own body. As if it was contagious, 2D can’t help the smile that spreads over his face then, partly over his own stupid answer, partly because he hears and feels Murdoc laughing and he hadn’t had that in a very long time.

“You know, I also had a new idea for a song last night,” Murdoc pipes up excited when his coughing finally has subsided. “Just wait!”

With that, he takes the pencil lying next to 2D and scribbles something on the notepad. Curious, 2D leans to the side to try and spy what the bassist was doing, but just in that moment Murdoc so much as thrusts the pad back into his face, brandishing it so close in front of his nose that at first, he can’t make out anything. 2D cautiously takes the pad and stares at it, baffled.

“Murdoc, that’s just a shitty sketch of one of these sodding jellyfishes,” 2D states irritated. Murdoc had drawn the silly grinning thing just over his “lyrics”.

“RIGHT??? These are just bloody everywhere!”

“But... that’s not a song,” 2D answers again, but he sounds interested now. He thinks his overtired brain is just about to produce another idea.

“But we need a song about them on the album! They embody the experience of this place!!!” Murdoc sounds frantic now and 2D can feel him gesturing wildly.

“They even look more like candy wrappers than real animals,” he agrees and nods along, even if the likeliness of Murdoc’s drawing with the actual strange animals he remembers seeing sometimes in front of his underwater prison or in the Stylo (submarine mode) is only minimal.

“They are a plague, I swear! There was a bunch – “, Murdoc interrupts himself. “A gang? A posse? A pack? – nah whatever! There were a whole lot of them almost clogging the seawater suction pipes for the cooling system of the engine room last week! Had to get on my good ol’ wetsuit and get rid of ‘em myself…”, he mumbles and 2D giggles at the image. He himself hadn’t noticed any of that last week.

“I… can show you what I thought so far for the music,” he offers.

“Yeah yeah, go on”, Murdoc encourages him and snivels, so 2D shows him the gruesome commercial sample and that he intends on putting it at the beginning of the song.

“Disturbing. I like it,” Murdoc states with a palpable shiver down his spine.

“Did you know this commercial is the only thing that runs on every channel for at least an hour every morning around six,” 2D suddenly admits and Murdoc half turns around.

“No… what in the seven hells? Why?”

“I thought you might know.” He shrugs and goes on with his demonstration.

Murdoc taps his foot to the beat of the drum machine and chimes in with comments here and there on what he might like or would change. He only stands up one time to pick up his bass, strumming along some very simple base lines in time with the drums and piano snippets the singer had patched together so far. Somewhere along, 2D had reached his dead point where he no longer felt drop dead tired and Murdoc had seemed to come down from whatever height he was in when he first entered. Surprisingly, the companionable workflow lasts.

That really was a rarity, since many other songs before had been a true fight.

At some point, he can feel Murdoc’s little finger creep over to rest on his own. 2D, who was lazily pushing some keys on his synth with one hand, bites his lip. He takes a deep breath.

“Muds?”

“Yeah?”

“We are having a good time right now for once, right,” he starts flat out. Murdoc pauses.

“I… think so.”

“Then don’t ruin it,” 2D says coolly and can feel how Murdoc’s retreats his hand instantly.

“2D I-“

“We can maybe work the jellyfish in you know,” he cuts Murdoc off and tries changing the subject.

“The jellyfish could be the theme together with the breakfast. The jellyfish could be the brand. Don’t you wish to stab those stupid smiles sometimes”, he goes on, even when animal cruelty really is the last thing he would like to promote and the jellyfishes for sure weren’t the ones that did anything to him. Sometimes he’s just so angry.

Murdoc huffs and chuckles lowly. “Actually…. That’s crazy but brilliant. I’m a genius for coming up with these things.”

2D sighs in dramatized exasperation. “Yes, Murdoc, you really are.”

#gorillaz #2doc #niccalpot #studoc #plastic beach #2doc only implied #fan fiction #gorillaz fan fiction #my fic

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