sweetprince (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sweetprince) wrote2009-10-14 11:32 am
sweetprince) wrote2009-10-14 11:32 am
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More Snippets
Midterms are over for me, thank god! As has become fashionable in Generation Kill fandom, I have decided to do a snippet post. You are welcome to post a picture for any fandom I write in (SPN, Generation Kill, RPF, Glee, Never Back Down) and I will respond with fic. The two fics I have in the works are frightening me, but I am in a mood to write.
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amberlynne has been threatening me with 17 requests for more Model!AU, so come participate so I'm not just writing about Brad and Nate prancing about on the runway.
ETA: Oh, song of the day, "One Pure Thought" by Hot Chip, for you dirty-minded girls out there.
-Brad owning a winery foramberlynne
-Ray's Wedding foramberlynne
-Q-Tip Turning Up on Nate's Porch foraboutademongirl
-Nate The Romance Novelist foramberlynne and really, myself.
-Nate the Archeologist, Brad the wild mountainman foramberlynne
-ASkar's epic love with Batman formemphis86. Every time I type that, I laugh.
-Glee: Brokeback The Musical formemphis86
-Model!Au: The first photoshoot after they fuck foramberlynne
-Generation Kill Victorian!Au fortrolleys
-Model!AU: Brad finds school!Nate irresistable foramberlynne
-Brad Visiting Nate At Harvard forsoul_cake_duck
-Alex taking Stark back to Sweden foramberlynne
amberlynne has been threatening me with 17 requests for more Model!AU, so come participate so I'm not just writing about Brad and Nate prancing about on the runway.ETA: Oh, song of the day, "One Pure Thought" by Hot Chip, for you dirty-minded girls out there.
-Brad owning a winery for
amberlynne-Ray's Wedding for
amberlynne-Q-Tip Turning Up on Nate's Porch for
aboutademongirl-Nate The Romance Novelist for
amberlynne and really, myself.-Nate the Archeologist, Brad the wild mountainman for
amberlynne-ASkar's epic love with Batman for
memphis86. Every time I type that, I laugh.-Glee: Brokeback The Musical for
memphis86-Model!Au: The first photoshoot after they fuck for
amberlynne-Generation Kill Victorian!Au for
trolleys-Model!AU: Brad finds school!Nate irresistable for
amberlynne-Brad Visiting Nate At Harvard for
soul_cake_duck-Alex taking Stark back to Sweden for
amberlynne
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Nate, the romance novelist
Nate started writing under the pseudonym Natalie Edgewood when he was twenty-three. His sister had gotten the Idiot’s Guide to Writing Romance novels as a joke gift and Nate had wound up reading one night when he couldn’t sleep. Frankly he’d found he could probably write a better Idiot’s Guide, but it gave him a few ideas.
When his fifth novel won a RITA, it was a problem. Natalie Edgewood didn’t exist. Her bio on the inside flap was a complete fabrication. It said she lived in Portland, Oregon with her two cats, their temperamental parakeet, and her husband Jesse. Well, there were no cats, no Jesse, no parakeet—temperamental or otherwise, and Nate lived in Boston. The publishers didn’t want to unmask him, so they sent a hired actress in his place and said he could pretend to be Jesse.
He stayed up the night before puzzling over his acceptance speech, possibly longer than he had the night before he submitted his dissertation, before finally giving in and going to bed. The actress, her name was Sarah, was going to have to say it, not him.
They hired Sarah a bodyguard. It was a little silly, but apparently there was some cause for worry at these events. Nate wouldn’t know, he’d never gotten to do a signing. This was, in fact, going to be Natalie’s first public appearance. Nate sighed, looked down at the fake wedding band on his hand. It was perhaps getting a bit too complicated.
And it all went horribly, horribly wrong. The bodyguard got shot right outside the hotel after Sarah accepted Nate’s award and Nate and Sarah got stuffed into the back of a speeding van. His grandma had always said romance novels were purveyors of vicious disgusting filth and said that God was disappointed in his sisters when they read them. Nate supposed that God felt even worse about writing them. He sighed and tried to avoid being handled to roughly.
Sarah was a sobbing mess. Please, please, she kept whining. It was completely useless. Either they were dealing with insane people who wanted them dead and could not be deterred or they were dealing with insane people who wanted something specifically other than death and could not be deterred. He tried to tell her it was going to be okay. Which, all right, he knew that was a lie, but she was likely to give herself a heart attack and thus render any decision their attackers had in the matter completely null.
For two days, he endured being carted around as Jesse, Natalie Edgewood’s wooden husband, having his wrists tied to various things and being spoon-fed soy yoghurt which he hated while their attackers waited for whatever it was they wanted. At this point Nate was pretty sure it was not death. Somebody at the top seemed to be hoping to force the publishing press to publish their stuff by kidnapping one of its bestselling authors. It was all very strange.
Nate, the romance novelist, Part 2
“You’re going to be fine,” one of the figures said, stopping before him and pulling off his mask. He was very tall. Nate supposed he would make a good romance hero. Nice cheekbones and good lips. That whole thing. He pulled out a knife to cut Nate loose from his bonds.
“Yes, well thank you, they weren’t planning to kill me,” Nate replied. “Now they’re all dead.”
A raucous voice yelled over the man’s shoulder, “OH SWEET! Does this one have Stockholm syndrome? I always wanted to see that.” A skinny man who Nate wasn’t quite sure should be allowed to handle high-caliber weapons bounced up, hair in horrible disarray from the ski-mask.
“Be assured, I am merely lamenting their wasteful death. Nobody deserves to die.”
“Who talks like that?” the skinny man said to the tall man, who smiled and replied. “Natalie Edgewood.”
Nate’s head jerked upwards. “How did—”
The tall man smiled, gestured at the screaming Sarah, and said, “Ray, can you deal with that?” He kept a careful hand on Nate’s elbow even though Nate assured he was fine, quite able to walk, he’d probably been treated better than most prison inmates.
Brad shut him up with a kiss, a sudden brush of his lips over Nate’s. Nate stared up at him, frozen in surprise.
“I always wanted to lay one on Natalie Edgewood.”
“I’m sorry,” Nate said, blinking up at him. “You’ve read them?”
Brad grinned, made a jerking off motion with his hand that caused the Ray person-thing to cackle, and then walked off to the waiting ambulance. Nate figured it was meant for him to go to the ambulance too, but he was still stuck on that hand gesture.
Re: Nate, the romance novelist, Part 2
Re: Nate, the romance novelist, Part 2
A Story Nothing Like Romancing The Stone...OH WELL
"You're with that anthropological study," Possibly Brad Colbert said, inspecting a wound across his back.
"I--yes," Nate replied, watching blood darken Brad's red shirt. "Who were those men?"
"Bandits. Want to scare the locals off so that they slash and burn the forest into arable farmland." Brad shrugged, pulling off his shirt to get a better look. His skin was darkened to a gold from the sun. His eyelashes looked pale against his cheeks. This was not what Nate had expected when the locals talked about the crazy white mountainman who lived somewhere deep in the forest. He was beautiful. Undeniably powerful in form, but he'd known plenty of tall men who knew how to use a bowflex. There was some other quality that made it hard for Nate to keep from staring.
Nate swallowed. Brad was peering unsuccessfully down his own back. "Can I help?"
Brad looked like he wanted to protest, like he didn't trust Nate not to fuck everything up, but he shrugged again. He sat down on a stump and gestured for Nate.
It was a shallow wound, but bleeding freely. The flesh had been skived from the point of a machete blade when possibly Brad Colbert had saved him from certain beheading. He mopped up the blood with Brad's ruined shirt, pressing it tight against Brad's skin. Nate carried a med kit with him at all times and he pulled out the small vial of hydrogen peroxide.
Brad's back muscles trembled as he swabbed iodine down the diagonal slash, but he didn't make a sound. "I think it may need stitching," Nate said softly, fingertips light on Brad's shoulders. Brad turned his head to look back at Nate and nodded. Their faces were suddenly close, and Nate didn't know what possessed him, leftover adrenaline maybe, but suddenly he was leaning forward,brushing a kiss to the corner of Brad's mouth, remembering how Brad had held his body between Nate and the bandits until he'd sent them running.
Brad made a sound in the back of his throat and then turned further, head craning on his neck to deepen it into a real kiss, and Nate breathed a sigh of relief. Brad's mouth was warm, sweet with the taste of fruit, and he sucked on Nate's lower lip like it was candy. Nate breathed hard, hands braced against Brad's back to keep from crushing into his wound.
Finally Brad pulled away. "Shouldn't of done that," he said.
"Why?"
"Interferes with your study if I'm fucking you while you're trying to take notes on the daily habits of the indigenous population." Brad grinned. "And, make no mistake, I am going to fuck you."
Re: A Story Nothing Like Romancing The Stone...OH WELL
Re: A Story Nothing Like Romancing The Stone...OH WELL
Well I'm glad!