#But to see so many readers defend it??? Idk how people can be so content with AI fics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashlie · 2 years ago

Note

Please tell me about your shoujo journey. Do you think Skip Beat will outlast ILY? 😂 The pacing is on a whole other level of slow, I gave up on it, two decades running and Kyoko's only aged a year damn! I understand the frustration with the flashback, it is quite sluggish, but we're seeing the true impact Alyssa had on Shinae's trust, how it affects her relationship with Nol now, and what it means for them in the future. Plus we're getting some vital Alyssa content. I feel like she's become even more ambiguous to me. I have no idea where her head is at. I miss reading your analysis. I'd love discuss to her with you after the arc ends and we get our long awaited Shinae x Nol moment. It's been so loooong since we've seen them.

OOOOOHHHHHHH MY GOD ANON LMAO that question just made me pause HARD lmaooooooo. Listen. For alllllll the shit people say about ILY, I just feel it in my BONES that Skip Beat will outlast EVERYTHING lmaoooooooooooo GOD. Like, I'm sorry but ANY TIME people talk about slow pacing I'm just like.... I'll read this whole 30, 50? page chapter and WHAT HAPPENS? HOW MUCH TIME PASSES? NONE! lmao I like to do an annual "catch up" on Skip Beat now and then (when I remember lol). Like I LOVE that the mangka made it about more than just Kyoko's love life but also MAN each acting project is literally years long for us as readers!!!!!!!! lmao thanks to Skip Beat I have the patience to weather ANYYYYTHIIIIIIING hahahahahaha. Taking three months to get through a flashback arc? I can handle it! ILY could take 10 years to reach completion and I'd be, frankly, okay, because at least it could wrap up faster than Skip Beat ever could LMAO (and honestly like... 10 years of solid story telling is pretty ace in my book but that's a whole other thing lmao)

As for my shoujo journey, I'll be honest, it's not SUPER long! I didn't start reading manga until I was graduating high school, so by the time I started to dig into things, after some time I found myself growing out of it? Or, rather no it was more like... there's just a lot of tropes that were present in shoujo I was finding I wasn't into? (Like, oh my god so many triangles where I'd be like MEH I actually prefer the second lead. I learned very fast that a lot of your typical "first leads", at least back in the day, were NOT my style.) I still have a soft spot for a lot of stories that I loved, though! I haven't read Lovely Complex since god probably 2014, 2015? But I STILL loved it back then and I'm really eager for a re-read. I uh.... I really went through a Hirunaka no Ryuusei phase? Like.... lmaoooo it was a Big Thing for me hahhaha (I own the series in Korean, actually!!!!) My first two manga, though, were Skip Beat and Hana Kimi; my friend bought me the first Skip Beat volume at our school book fair and another friend bought the first few volumes of Hana Kimi and shared them with me! Hana Kimi is one of those that like.... you know it doesn't hold up over time, it leans heavily on tropes that are considered ethically nonos these days, but it stays special to me because in spite of all of that, idk I just! Enjoyed it! And now that I'm older I am okay saying "I LIKE THIS THING THAT IS FLAWED AND IMPERFECT AND I DO NOT NEED TO DEFEND IT" lol you know? There was the obligatory Vampire Knight phase that I finally fell out of but OOOF that was A Thing. (I was SO obsessed with it at first lol and I LOVED the art sooooo much that I read another series by the mangaka, MeruPuri which, frankly, was REALLY weird so nothing about Vampire Knight actually surprised me ngl LMAOOOOOO) You know I remember once starting Special A but I do not think I ever finished that! I put myself all the way through Ao Haru Ride even though I kept telling myself I needed to drop it and pretend it didn't exist. God what a trainwreck that one was lol like.... idk I'm not saying this as a dig to people who did enjoy it! There were just times I wanted to enter that story and punch people lmaoooo but I wonder what I would think if I went back and read it again now in the vein of like.... sometimes people are selfish and make bad choices because they are human? lol I also REALLY loved Orange but I'm going to admit I haaaaaaaaaaaaaated the ending and to this daaaaaay I haaaaaaaaaaaated it so much but that's a whole other post lol. LOVED the story, LOVED the art, was super into the theme, but just hated the execution of the ending SOOOOOOOOOO MUCH ;A;

lol I said it's not super long but look at me, rambling on and on!

I know no one is surprised that I wound up talking A LOT and just.... following, there's so much ILY rambling going on about why I appreciate and enjoy this flashback arc, and how I think it boosts the rest of the story so far lol so here's a read more, haaaha.......

I definitely feel you on how Alyssa feels even more ambiguous lol which is so funny. I love the insight and having a better idea of who she is as a person, even if we still don't fully know all of her motives. Just seeing her as a complex character like everyone else has been great. We all know I'm a sucker for parallels lol and seeing how everyone has their own traumas, that everyone has a root for who they are, is the stuff that keeps me hooked on ILY. Alyssa was very easily written off by people and I don't defend her or anything - I really hope we get to see her take responsibility for her actions and ownership for the hurt she has caused, whether on purpose or not - but also, it always felt like she was suuuuuuuper reduced down by fandom on a whole. I think a very human thing quimchee is good at capturing is that we don't always mean to hurt the people we do, but it still happens, and that sometimes good intentions can make things worse in the longrun - and this can go for Alyssa towards Nol or Shinae, frankly.

Honestly, too, something I love about her is like... like you know how if you read a novel, the protagonist is supposed* to be the character who makes the right choices and does good things? And when people are presented an "unlikable protagonist" it's usually a character who is acting on their emotions and responding to their experiences - it's a character making the choices that we ourselves might make. (* I'm saying "supposed" here because a protagonist DOESN'T have to make the right choices, but it turns out people really hate media where female characters make selfish choices lmaoooo) I guess that's what I like seeing about Alyssa in this flashback. I've seen a lot of people say that Alyssa is weak for caving to peer pressure or something but like... was that not the middle school experience? I don't know a lot of people who were super self-assured and full of confidence in middle school - but especially someone in Alyssa's position who has never really interacted with kids her own age and is so afraid of ostracization. Like a lot of the woven storylines of ILY, something I love is that we are shaped by our experiences, right? Most people never faulted Shinae for shutting down and putting up strong defenses when we first met her in the story, because we know she'd been screwed over by life and people and as people who have been there before, we understand self-preservation tactics. She even basically admits it herself that she WANTED to open up to people. Shinae wasn't guarded because she hated people, she lied to herself because of how much she'd been hurt and she was afraid to take that chance again and try it. Shinae is afraid to be burned, Alyssa is afraid for people to ever have a chance to burn her. It's so inherently HUMAN to be afraid of being alienated, to want to BELONG, to want to feel like you fit in. She faces a daily crisis in how she is desperate to belong with people who might not accept her if they knew what she was truly like.

And idk, I cannot fault her for that completely, because it took me until my early-to-mid-20s to learn to be okay on my own and that it was better to be myself than try to fit in where I wasn't wanted. I put up with shitty friendships for a long time because I had myself convinced that it was all worth it. So a middle schooler struggling with this is SO VERY real, and it's wild to me to see people fault her for this. Alyssa has done some things worth being mad about, but seeing her written off for being a human middle schooler is WILD to me.

That's a whole other tangent LOL but it's something I haven't really gotten around to ever talking about. Like, whatever, I cannot - and I won't even try lol to - convince people to like Alyssa, but frankly, I think all of the characters of ILY are SO dimensional and fascinating, how can I not enjoy exploring parts of their story? I think sometimes people think that if I say "I enjoy a character" it means I endorse everything they do. I DO like Kousuke and Alyssa. Would I want to be their friends? Good grief, no. But I'm here as an observer of a story and I think it's fascinating to see how their experiences bring about the circumstances of this story. That moment of dramatic irony when Alyssa promises that she won't stop being Shinae's friend, but we know how it all ends, we all know that's a promise she does not keep, and we know how those events affect Shinae and much of the story that unfolds!

how it affects her relationship with Nol now

I feel like this is something that doesn't come up a lot? Or maybe I just missed any period of fandom when they might have discussed it? Like.... if Shinae hadn't been burned like this by Alyssa, she wouldn't carry the paranoia she does - not about Maya and Rika and certainly not about Minhyuk. Even to this day, we saw that Shinae worries that even the people she trusts are humoring her - because she's been there, she trusted someone who hurt her. The entire trajectory of her relationship with Nol would be completely different! A really beautiful aspect of Nol and Shiane's friendship to me is not just that he managed to make Shinae open up - it's that now that we know how Shinae lied to herself, how she was hurt in the past, how trusting people burned her so badly - but the fact that despite everything she'd been through, she WANTED him to be someone she could trust, she WANTED him to be worth letting down her guard.

Like, again!!!!! Everything that happens in this story only does so because of circumstances and events that precede it. Shinae going to Nol's school was not just because she wanted to check on and see her friend - she was desperate to prove herself wrong, desperate for Nol to prove that he was worth the chances she took, that trusting him was not another mistake she knew better than to make.

I think a flashback arc shows us more than just insight into her relationship with Alyssa, which we've established was something very important, something special that was destroyed. It's the juxtaposition of pre-accident Shinae, who was willing to open herself up, who was plucky and bullheaded and just wanted to be appreciated it. Contrast that with the Shinae we meet early in the story, who has herself convinced it's okay to be alone, when now we know she was yearning to be appreciated, maybe yearning for someone to fight for her the way she fought for Alyssa but believed that something like that wasn't possible. I think we also see the flashback because while we've seen some of the ugly moments of Shinae's life, we never really saw how we went from this point to that point, you know? How there are small pockets of things in her life that make her want to keep believing in what she knows better than to believe - in teachers who listen to her when she tells the truth, in friends who stand up for her and defend in - even as her life starts to crumble. She can't escape her past, she's literally being haunted by it, even as she tried to put it all behind her. Her father is falling more and more into alcoholism due to stress from school plus his job, and soon he's going to be saddled with medical bills and having to take care of Shinae, which is probably what derailed school completely. THESE are the experiences that made the Shinae we know - a Shinae who is TERRIFIED of being hurt but also LONGS to be proven wrong, a Shinae who wants to share an experience she thought maybe she doesn't deserve, a Shinae who quietly believed maybe the universe just wanted to punish her for existing but still tries so hard to defy it.

Idk like yes we get that sense of Shinae without the backstory, but I think it really emphasizes this so much more? And I think it's also some kind of proof, maybe, that Alyssa IS more important than people have given her credit for, not just in the past but also in the future of the story. She doesn't exist just to move plot and drive wedges between relationships or something lol she, too, a complex character with complex experiences and god isn't that the sum of so many moments of people headbutting? That we are complex and sometimes struggle to see beyond our own issues, because what we deal with blinds us? Alyssa is blinded by her desire to escape her family and experience something NORMAL and be liked. Maybe she DOES want attention! Kousuke is blinded by a sense of destiny instilled in him since he was young, blinded by paranoia that fed off of this "destiny", blinded by his inability to accept his father's human nature, blinded by his fear that the only thing that makes him matter to his father is threatened. We met Nol thinking he was a character who looked out for others but even he's been blinded by his misery and by the feelings of worthlessness that has been punched down into him.

We butt heads with people because sometimes we are so caught up in our own struggles that it's hard to understand that others struggle, too, and I think that's where some of the best conflict comes. Like yeah there's good conflict in "Shinae has been roped into attending this horrible formal" but there's something poignant and painful in "Shinae unintentionally repeated the Alyssa cycle when she let Nol in" and even BETTER we get to see how she's grown from it!

This is, as always, lmao a very rambling tangential departure from the main point lol but!!!!! I have had a lot of feelings here and I know part of peoples' irritation is they want to get back to Nol and Shinae right now, but I think seeing Shinae's past helps create even MORE appreciation for what Nol means to her - that he is someone who hurt her but she is still willing to give another chance - and moreover, that we can see that though Shinae came from a loving home, she, too, has suffered her own abuse, was battered and beaten down by people, and unlike Nol, she was able to conclude it doesn't make her bad. Idk it's so beautiful to me and I get really overwhelmed lol it makes me appreciate their friendship SO MUCH more, for what they mean to each other and what they can be, you know? Seeing Shinae's resilience, through the new girl at middle school hoping to start all over to failing at that to putting up that guarded wall to finally taking a chance, finally giving in and accepting that yes, she still has hope, there's still faith, and Nol was that spark. UGH!

ANYWAY lol I do think we are probably nearing the end of this flashback arc. I don't know how many episodes I think remain - I generously said less than 10 a week or two ago lol but I think that was very generous. The timeline (and Alyssa's behavior) feels like we are approaching the point of Alyssa pushing Shinae and YES i will be so happy to go over the whole arc with you!!! I've been wanting to make a post that I keep holding off on, because I don't know if it would be better to do it now or wait for the whole arc to end, but I think there's a good conversation to be had about how a lot of Alyssa's behavior is directly tied to her homelife - how it's implied her father is someone who, at the very least, shouts a lot - and how that ties into her deflective, people-pleasing nature. Again, Alyssa is not really a spineless, MEAN-spirited person. She, like everyone else, is just the sum of her experiences, and I don't think she's learned to deal with them in a healthy way. (And frankly speaking, what about her relationship with Nol IS healthy anyway?)

I know this is so much more than you bargained for lol but you KNOOOOWWWW I love these asks and it HAS been so long since I got to just.... ENTHUSE about this - not just try to analyze or talk about what an episode has revealed but just GUSH about it lol so I could not help myself! But yes, once this arc ends, I will be READY to dissect and discuss EVERYTHING. I feel so emotionally invested, knowing that Shinae is about to experience the worst burn of her life, while she's still so trusting and earnest and aaaahhhhhhhh it's going to HURT so much ;~; But in a maybe cathartic way. (Also, and this is something I should get to later, I think something big about this flashback is that, y'know, it's kind of implied that Shinae has repressed a lot of this. Her memories of the moment are hazy, Alyssa appeared in a series of people Shinae was shocked to realize she harbored so much anger towards. I think as much as this is for US to see exactly what happened, I think it's also kind of a wake up call for Shinae, who has repressed and ignored so much of this, and I'm really REALLY curious to see how she reacts after return to the present. Is she angry? Sad? Sad for her younger self? Is it cathartic for her? How raw is it? Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh)

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #Shinae Yoo #Alyssa Cho #Nol #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #lol what was my nol tag? I just gotta create one for him i swear!#GOD it's been so long since I just gushed and rambled lol I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW MUCH I WROTE i do not know how to restrain myself #also just talking about shoujo again!!!!!!! i haven't really read a lot in a long time but i'd be liking if i pretended it wasn't a #sort of formative foundation you know? part of what was so fun about early ILY was the homage it paid to shoujo manga before it evolved #i'm sure i left off LOTS of manga too #i randomly think about heroine shikaku because i don't think there were many manga i saw as far through as that one that i HATED as much #LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #IT WAS A COOL CONEPT AND IT WAS SO FOILED AND DISAPPOINTED?! i love the idea of girl believes she's the heroine of her life but SIKE SHE'S #NOT and has to learn to resolve that and yknow LET GO OF THE DUDE SHE OBSESSIVELY LOVES but they did not give me that story!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyway look i have really missed ILY asks like i just feel? weirdly? rejuvenated?#sometimes i receive an ask and i have to let it sit for a couple hours so i can mull over it and prepare myself but with this one i just #launched right in lol i was so excited to yell about shoujo and my eternal patience thanks to Skip Beat and this whole flashback and YES #what it means for her relationship with Nol! what it means for her as a person! what it means for the Shinae we first met vs who she is now #GOD i love her so much ;_____________; Shinae is so wonderful ;~;

7 notes · View notes

bookofmirth · 3 years ago

Note

What do you think of the current view of YA lit in the book community? A lot of it seems to be negative - YA doesn’t explore themes as deep as adult novels, people who read YA are limiting their reading experience, YA is too immature, etc. I’ve always been a YA defender because I’ve enjoyed many YA books and I do hate that many of these reasons can be rooted in misogyny since teen girls and women are the primary audience for YA. But also I’ve recently been reading more adult books and it’s hard for me to be satisfied with a lot of YA novels now and they just seem so formulaic and superficial. The genre just seems to have changed so much nowadays - like I remember when The Hunger Games came out and it was critically claimed, as it should be since it’s a fantastic series that examines a lot of complex issues like classism, authoritarianism, and consumerism. Since it boosted the popularity of the YA genre, though, it seems like now quantity > quality with so many YA books constantly being released that really don’t say or add anything new to the genre. They’re fun, but they aren’t as meaningful. But then again, YA books tend to have more diversity than many of the adult books I’ve read and less graphic sexual violence, which I prefer. And maybe we shouldn’t be holding YA books to the same standards as adult books. what are your thoughts?

Holy shit you sent this on April 10th, I am soooooo sorry lmao I was saving it until I had time to really put effort in and uh... time, man. idk.

I totally agree with you about how YA is viewed as being lesser, though it's... really, really not. I also agree that YA tends to be viewed that way because of who reads it. However, I don't think this problem is exclusive to YA. I don't even think it's exclusive to genre fiction, because I see people say things like "literary fiction is just white professor dudes getting a hardon for their pretty barely-legal student". Um, no, it isn't? But congrats on dismissing the variety of voices and perspectives available in literary fiction.

***WAIT I do need to add on the fact that I recognize that those two things are not the same - people being dismissive of what they think is a bunch of teen girl readers, and being dismissive of what they think is a bunch of straight white male readers. HOWEVER, my annoyance is based on the fact that it's actually dismissive of POC, women, queer people, people with disabilities in both cases. "Oh only teen girls read this" is supposed to be insulting to teen girls, and "oh only white dudes write this" is dismissive of the marginalized people who do in fact write in other genres.

Readers can be real snobs, no matter what they read 😂

I also understand the conundrum of wanting to defend YA when you're in it, and then starting to expand your reading horizons and being like "ohhhhh... that's what they meant.... uh...." There is a stark difference in craft between authors. And sometimes that's hard to see until you start to read more widely.

it seems like now quantity > quality with so many YA books constantly being released that really don’t say or add anything new to the genre.

Yes yes yes. It seems like so much of the YA community is just marketing. Book covers. Special editions. Book boxes. All this bookish junk that comes in the boxes. They are expanding to other genres now, like romance and stuff, because they realize these other genres can be profitable too.

On the one hand, I hope those authors are making bank from all this licensed content. Lord knows they don't make enough, unless they hit that tipping point where they become an SJM/Leigh Bardugo.

But on the other hand, I have felt for a few years now that I have been less of a reader in the online bookish community, and more of a customer. You need to be an influencer, you need to read the right - read: popular - books, you need to check those diversity boxes, you need to be up to Twitter book purity standards.

YA books tend to have more diversity than many of the adult books I’ve read and less graphic sexual violence, which I prefer.

Agreed. YA has strengths. It does seem more responsive to what readers ask for than adult fiction does, which is a plus. There is a reason that people are so into YA. If it's entertaining people, then who the fuck cares?

But then again, yeah. Sometimes those deficiencies are more glaring when you start reading more widely. However, I don't think that it's because of YA itself, I think those perceived deficiencies come from our expectations, and because, just like with literally everything, there are great examples and not so great examples! There are amazing romances and shitty ones. Amazing literary fiction and shitty literary fiction. I have read the most beautiful, captivating stories that were written for YA readers. I have read the shittiest, most boring crap that was written for adult readers. It's not useful to paint it all with the same broad brush.

To answer your last question, definitely - we shouldn't be judging these genres using the same standards. They are written for different reasons, for different audiences, the authors all have their own styles. Every reader has a type of story they are looking for, and tbh all that matters to me is if they can find it? When I need something that I just want to enjoy, I read for YA or romance. When I want to think more, or enjoy prettier prose, or more character-focused books, I will probably pick up adult or literary fiction.

#booklr #books #bookish community #ask #anon

11 notes · View notes

sladewilsonisanantihero · 4 years ago

Text

The Original Intent of Terra and how Deathstroke got the bad end of the stick for it

Okay, Deathstroke Children (Idk what to call you guys because fellow Deathstrokers would end this conversation immediately), I found the time to do this, so let's get to it!

(Note: My original laptop broke with my comics, so I have no images to spare, so it will be sourced. Another note: Many words will be in bold. Partly so that for those reading will not lose track.)

But if tl;dr:

Cold Hard Truth: Everyone from Terra fans to Deathstroke fans needs to stop seeing these characters as real people.

Original Terra wasn't human trafficked or whatever sob story people want to label her with. The CREATORS intended her to be written as Evil without the mental illness and to die for the shock value. They had Raven, The Literal Empath, spell this out in Judas Contract. As for Deathstroke's involvement, he was shoved into her creation story, and Marv Wolfman himself recognized his mistake in doing that.

And for those calling Deathstroke a nazi, Original Terra had nazi-like beliefs where common people should fear and serve them or be killed off just because they're 'special'. Again, BLUNTLY stated in the Judas Contract. So if you're going to call Deathstroke a Pedophile, we'll call OG Terra a Neo-Nazi. (But I highly advice for Deathstroke Fans to not start that kind of war, but I had to say what I had to say.)

Don't get me wrong. (Hopefully all) Deathstroke fans know that their relationship was wrong just like Marv Wolfman, and we do not support pedophiles! But Slade isn't a pedophile! He was never intended to be written as one! It was a mistake made on many levels and should be rewritten like OG Terra's Evil Neo-Nazi-like personality, instead of being thrown into cancel culture.

Also for Deathstroke fans, don't get upset over their content and begin any argument emotionally. Just enjoy whatever good content we can get and support it if you can. Hopefully we'll get our Deathstroke movies and so on!

So I've briefly chatted with one of you over the matter with Terra/Tara Markov and how upsetting it is about how people refer to Slade Wilson as a Pedophile. That is a serious accusation that would make it very uncomfortable to argue about since it can easily make it seem like we justify the actions of pedophiles, and that we are part of pedophile culture that does exist in social media space.

AND WE SHOULDN'T, AND FOR ANTIS READING THIS WE WON'T.

But there was a time when I used to have a blog called friendlyremindersofsladewilson, where I defended Slade and put the blame all on Terra. I was 14 at the time, and looking back at it, I am not proud of it because I realized now as an adult how I defended it for most of the wrong reasons, but still stand with the fact that SLADE IS NOT A PEDOPHILE.

And since this took place when I was so young, it compelled me to write this post because I fear some of you are really young, too, and may end up in this regretful position.

So to make it clear, what Slade had been written to do is a crime, and we should acknowledge it, but not in the way as if it was a crime acted out in real life.

What I mean by that is that there's a clear separation between fiction and reality where one isn't real (Duh!). In this case, it's about the mistakes made between fiction and reality. In reality, mistakes made by the person responsible is on the person. In fiction, mistakes made is dependent on the creator's intent, and sometimes the creators can make mistakes themselves.

Most notably Terra's:

Tara Markov/Terra was created by Marv Wolfman and George Perez.

In Marv Wolfman's literal website, he stated in his online "What the-?" column:

"Which leads to Terra. That was easy. George and I wanted a Titan who betrayed the others. we also wanted to play against every reader conception of who characters are. George and I knew her whole story before we began and we knew she would die. We set the story up with her trying to destroy the Statue of Liberty to show she was the bad girl, but we knew if George drew her as a cute kid everyone would simply assume she would be ‘turned’ from the dark side because that’s the way it was always done which is why that wouldn’t be the way we did it. Tara was insane an stayed that way right until the moment she died. By the way, she IS dead. I don’t know what other writers will do with her – if anything – but if they want to honor the original series they will leave her dead. The Terra from Team Titans was – as stated – some kid the villain kidnapped and physically and mentally altered her into looking and acting like the original. But she was NEVER the real Terra."

And it should also be noted that he stated before this statement that:

"...Only mistake I think I made with him is having him have a physical relationship with the 16 year old Tara Markov. That was wrong."

So Marv Wolfman himself recognizes that what he did was a mistake, but his intent on Terra was never to write a victim.

And quick note: Insanity isn't written as a mental illness here. It's written like how many villains are labeled as insane for having skewed beliefs that deviates from the common good.

Terra truly had some nazi-like beliefs where she BELIEVED that everyone who wasn't 'special' like her and the Teen Titans deserved to be treated like shit because they weren't 'special' like them. She bluntly said it herself in the Judas Contract.

As for George Perez's comment in an interview I found in this website:

"GEORGE: Tara was just a cute little girl, although I based a little bit of that on my wife Carol’s sister, Barbara. A little upturned nose… Barbara does not have the teeth that Tara had. I wanted Tara to be a girl who looked normal. Which also means her death caught everyone even more offguard.

Tara, she was made to be killed; she served her purpose. That was it.

ANDY: You didn ‘t get any attachment to Tara?

GEORGE: No, because I knew we were going to kill her. So I deliberately used all the things to make her as likeable and cute as possible, so people would never believe we were going to kill a sixteen-year-old. And she was a sixteen-year-old sociopath. She was one of our cleverest gimmicks; we deliberately created her in order to lead everyone astray. So we couldn’t build any fondness for her, ’cause we knew full well what her whole motive for existence was. Her existence was basically to keep the stories interesting; we were tossing a curve that no one would have expected.

ANDY: You didn ‘t even love to hate her, huh?

GEORGE: No. I loved handling her, because she was such a good idea. But she was an idea. Not as much a person. She was there to show exactly how much their humanity can be one thing they have to be careful about, the Teen Titans have to be careful about. . . they can be too trusting, or their own weaknesses can be used against them."

Terra was supposed to be a representation of An Evil Betrayal of Trust and That Not All Cute Girls Are Good.

But they took it too far by making her sleep with Deathstroke because they wanted to truly make her look evil by literally sleeping with the enemy. Y'know because this was the 80s, and women having sex was an evil act back then, and that point of view has somewhat or barely improved 40 years later.

Deathstroke was just shoved into this idea, and Marv tried and perhaps failed at trying to undo this mistake with his talk with Beastboy (Tales of the Teen Titans issue #55) and before his confrontation from Wintergreen (Deathstroke (1991); Chapter 35).

So just as I had stated at the top in the tl;dr, it was a mistake made on many levels and should have been rewritten out just as many had done with OG Terra's true personality, and be done with it.

Random person: "He still slept with a 16-year-old."

And it's not that hard to make other heroes and villains do this mistake. Because again, it's all fiction. Deathstroke's fictional. As in Not Real, so we could literally undo the damage by rewriting this mistake. Or make it worse by making Terra the rapist by her using her Earth powers to bind Slade down and force him, and you can't deny that it's plausible. Because she's fictional. Anything can happen. So why didn't Slade tell Beastboy whether he slept with her or not, maybe it was because he really didn't want to but he was forced into it. And that's just something you can't dump on a very emotional man who was trying to kill you a moment ago.

ALL THE POSSIBILITIES BECAUSE IT'S FICITIONAL!

But ANYWAY, I went way too dark there.

Ending on a brighter note: Personally to all Deathstroke fans, please value your mental health, please don't start any arguments that'll compromise it, and continue supporting Deathstroke in whatever way you can!

#Deathstroke #Slade Wilson

86 notes · View notes

ptergwen · 4 years ago

Note

hi could you do a fluffy blurb where the (stark)reader and peter have to babysit morgan so they go to the park and have a picnic while she plays? could you also make it a little angsty with mentions of Tony’s death? thank you <3

i went a little hard on the angst in the beginning idk what came over me but i hope you like 😭

when the news was broken that tony stark took his last breath, the whole world went into mourning. he was loved by so many, looked up to and raved about worldwide.

they say his death was an act of selflessness, that saved everyone except himself. you don’t see it that way. it’s simply a tragedy in your eyes. that a hero’s destiny is to sacrifice their life for the greater good, it’s just complete bullshit. what about the greater good of you? your mom? morgan? a father and husband are missing from your lives now.

the father who taught you how to use the extraordinary mind you were blessed with, and encouraged you to do whatever you want with it. he turned the simplest of mishaps into silly life lessons, like when he spilled a pot of coffee down the front of his louis vuitton and went on about the importance of knowing a good walk-in dry cleaner.

you’re obviously aware that people around the whole world are grieving your dad, but his absence is a heavier hole to fill for you and everyone who was in his life. this has fundamentally changed who you are, and only a couple of things can help you cope.

one of them is peter.

he’s experienced more loss and pain than most people ever will, tony’s fate only adding to it, so he understands completely what you’re going through. he comforts you while also dealing with his own grief. you not only need, but deserve the support, and only peter can give it to you in the ways you’re looking for. even his presence by your side throughout the day makes your heavy heart feel a little lighter.

what also helps is your family, mostly morgan.

she doesn’t quite get what happened to tony because you all agreed not to tell her yet. she’s smart and strong and extremely capable for a five year old. still, it’s a lot for anyone to handle, especially when you’re as impressionable as morgan. she knows that tony is gone and won’t be coming back, that’s it.

since she doesn’t have to carry the weight of her dad’s passing, she’s living in blissful ignorance. she’s the same ray of sunshine and hope, of everything good, and being around her is refreshing. she makes each day feel normal again.

pepper isn’t home because she’s on a work trip, so you and peter have the job of watching morgan. she’s thrown herself into her ceo responsibilities more than ever as a distraction. to lift your spirits a bit, peter suggested the three of you go to the park. morgan insisted that you also have a picnic, which leads you to now, halfheartedly packing a cooler in the kitchen.

“we need the juice pops!” morgan beams, going to grab the box from the freezer. “you love those things,” peter chuckles and takes them from her outstretched hands. she’s quick. tony got her into them not too long ago, and it’s an obsession now. you crack a small smile as you lean against the counter. you’re only watching them pack.

“ok, what’s next?” peter asks himself, rubbing his hands together. “sandwiches because that’s all i can make. cool.” that earns a playful scoff from you. “sounds promising.” “hey, i do a great peanut butter and jelly,” he defends and leans over to peck your cheek. you hum in content of his soft lips on your skin. “we’ll see about that. don’t forget drinks.”

after morgan demands that you two stop being gross and you finish packing the cooler, you head out for the park. it’s one you’ve been to a few times. unlike the parks in the city, this one has less going on, more isolated and peaceful.

“why not the movies or something? why this?” you ask peter as the three of you step onto the grass, morgan trailing along in between you. you’re holding one of her hands, and peter is holding the other. “because it’s nice out,” he hums in response. there’s a warm breeze and blue sky above you. “and, some fresh air might make you feel better,” he adds more seriously.

you haven’t left the house much recently, so he’s probably right. leaving it at that, you settle on a spot with a lot of open space surrounding you. peter lays out the blanket while morgan digs into the cooler. she goes right for a juice pop, an orange one that she takes a big bite out of.

“aw, man. doesn’t that hurt?” you giggle at your sister, whose answer is to happily continue chomping on the freezing cold thing. “she’s a wild one. we better hide the rest,” peter jokes, then places the cooler down in the center of the blanket. morgan gasps and rushes over. “stay away!” she gestures to peter with her stick. “or i’ll blast you.” “and how’s that gonna work?” he tests her with a small smile.

your heart speeds up and falls into the pit of your stomach. “um... dad gave her one of his old blasters a while ago,” you explain, avoiding peter’s eyes as you take a seat on the blanket. morgan finishes off the rest of her juice pop and goes in for another. “well, she technically found it. she got to keep it, though,” you continue and pull the cooler away before she ruins her appetite. she sticks her tongue out at you.

“that’s nice,” peter murmurs, sitting down next to you, putting a hand on your back. you were in a pretty good mood until the reminder that tony isn’t here to join you hits. he can see that. “hey, morg? why don’t you go play while we set everything up,” he tells her sweetly and hand her one of the many toys she insisted on bringing. it’s her luke skywalker action figure. you blame peter for that one.

“ok, bye!” morgan is gone without a care in the world, on a pretend space invasion. once she’s out of hearing range, peter checks in on you.

“you okay? i didn’t mean to bring that up,” he says quietly and fully wraps his arm around you. clenching your teeth into each other, you let your shoulders drop. “it’s okay. i just...” you feel your throat getting tight. “i can’t believe he’s gone, peter. it’s not fucking fair.” tears cloud your vision, peter pulling you into his chest. he presses his lips to your hair.

“i know, baby. it isn’t,” he coos, a muffled whimper escaping you. you grab onto one of his biceps and let out a breath. “i wish i could move on, be more like morgan. i hate having this at the back of my mind.” peter nods as you speak while cradling you in his arms. “you get there when you get there,” he encourages and kisses your forehead for good measure. you wind your arms around his torso.

he’s so good at telling you exactly what you need to hear.

“you’ll have me through all of it.”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

132 notes · View notes

ouyangzizhensdad · 4 years ago

Note

so i do think it’s quite weird you would defend fans of the novel from labels like fetishizing fujo whilst saying you only engage w/ fandom wank on tumblr?? just bcuz you don’t engage w/sex scenes in that way doesn’t mean other fans don’t? like it’s nice to be all serious and deep about meta but there are in fact so many fans ruled by their Id... holy fuck, if I had a nickel for every demeaning depiction of omega wei ying(according to fans book!canon, lol) on twt and ao3 i would be sooo rich, and it’s disingenuous of you to treat them as those superior beings when they 👏🏻 just 👏🏻 wanna 👏🏻 write 👏🏻 men 👏🏻 fuck 👏🏻 I get the message this is not you, but you are hardly representative of the fandom (: this is not an ask about cql in any way and is entirely about how it is in fact possible to use a gay ship for gratification and can we stop pretending otherwise

Hi anon,

The point of decrying people lumping everyone together for the crime of *checks notes* liking a specific book/liking works from a specific genre is because it is misguided and reductive as well as because it aims to create easy divisions between good/bad based solely on what content people engage with instead of, idk, their beliefs or how they conduct themselves (it’s also stupid because most of the people who leverage these criticisms engage in m/m fandom or with m/m content, just not those that could be classified as danmei-bl). It also aims to acknowledge, in the same breath, that these “criticisms” demonise the works themselves by insinuating that by virtue of being danmei-bl the only merits they could possibly have are as material to be used by caricatural homophobic monsters (aka the fabled “gross fetishising fujo”), instead of recognising that works within a same genre differ in quality and in tastefulness.

You seem to not be someone who is a frequent reader of this blog, because if that were the case you would be aware that I’ve never said all people who engage with danmei-bl or m/m content act in ways that I personally like or approve of, or that they are never homophobic--in fact, I’ve literally said the opposite at times. Saying “don’t make people who consume danmei-bl content into caricatures to be demonised to feel better about your own own engagement with m/m content” does not mean condoning the actions of every person who consumes danmei-bl and engage in fandom spaces. I never saw myself as Urban II giving out fandom plenary indulgences, lmao.

I find it also interesting that you suggest that I consider that book fans are “superior beings“ when at most I suggest that CQL-onlies and CQL-mains have exhausting and ridiculous things to say about the novel itself and fans of the novel generally. If a superior/inferior dichotomy is how you interact with the world, there’s not much I can do about that, but I cannot accept having my opinions being shoved into such reductive boxes.

I’m also surprised that you seem to assign the sin of wanting to “see men fuck” on "fetishising fujos” (which, in this fandom, is a shorthand for book fans) when many CQL-onlies/CQL-mains produce extremely explicit content based on CQL-verse--especially considering your ask begins with your objection at my defending the practice of calling book fans “fetishisng fujos”. Why do you feel that this sin is one that is representative of the book novel fandom, specifically? I’m also confused by the fact that there being an aspect of gratification in shipping/fandom being an inherent red flag: are we really going to be modern-days Platos arguing that the best relationship is an erotically charged one between men that nonetheless never involves actual sexual contact, ie the o.g. platonic ideal?

I cannot speak of what is representative of the novel fandom, because fandom in 2021 is such a decentralised experience that it makes it difficult to get a sense of what kind of fandom engagement would count as “representative”. Perhaps you are right and people who share omega!WWX fanart really are the majority, the spokespersons for the fandom. What I can say however with certainty is that a lot of people in this fandom match my vibe (not the bitter and pretentious vibes, the ‘desire to engage with the work on a deeper level’ vibe).

#anon ask #fandom discussions #cql vs mdzs

55 notes · View notes

babyarmybabbles · 9 months ago

Text

Run ARMY! (Meet Part) a1 d3

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader won the opportunity to film a spin off of Run BTS! celebrating the boys return from enlistment, called Run ARMY!, over the course of seven days.

Word Count: 1,095

Notes: Idk if y'all have noticed but I tend to just write scenes I get inspired for and then fill in the blanks for this one lol. Random bits and bobs until I connect them. This part specifically needs some work on the actions and interactions, I think.

Took Inspirations from Run ARMY! series on Tik Tok by _yamanika_ and Guess The Bias! by HelloMyAlien7 on Ao3

Warnings: Reader is p anxious lol Sort of panic attack? Anxiety attack? idk man. Just anxious Reader.

Masterlist Link <3 | Prev Part Link c: | Next Part Link :D

By the time the SUV is pulling into the underground parking garage you’re meeting the band in you’re sweating buckets. Not literally, thank the stars, but you feel near to it. Hannuel smiles kindly at you from the driver’s seat, obviously able to see your nerves. You’re pretty sure a satellite could see your nerves right now.

“You’ll be fine.” She soothes as the car descends. “The boys are super nice, and they’re excited to meet you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” You suck in a deep breath in response and let it out. It doesn’t help much.

“I’m more nervous about ARMY not liking me than BTS not liking me.” You admit, consciously switching to twisting your rings around so you don't pick at your nails in your anxiety. Having bloody fingers while meeting your favorite band would not be a good look. “Also they intimidate me.” You add quietly.

You hear Hannuel stifle a snicker and your head shoots up to glare at her in affront. She’s supposed to support you, not laugh at you! She must see your mulish stare in the rear-view, because she quickly defends herself.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s just that they’re so silly sometimes, it’s hard to find them intimidating after having known them.” You easily concede the point to her. You'd seen enough behind the scenes content to get that impression. It’s a bit soothing to hear from an actual staff member though. “They’re the sweetest, really,” Hannuel continues, “You’ve genuinely got nothing to worry about. They’ll take care of you.”

You groan and let your head thump against the seat. “That’s part of the problem!” You complain, “It’s my first time on this side of a camera, it’s my first time meeting BTS, it’s my first time being in Korea, It’s just a lot! What if ARMY sees me fumbling and the boys helping me and decide they hate me? I can’t be hated by ARMY! I’d die!” You dramatically slump sideways, coincidentally timed with a turn that scootches you that much farther over. Score one for dramatics.

Hannuel laughs gently at you, and you continue somewhat more seriously from your slumped position. “I mean, ARMY is basically my home. I don’t know what I’d do if they hated me.” You murmur into the leather cushion.

Hannuel hums musingly at you and the two of you lapse into silence for a moment.

“Well,” She starts, “First of all, you probably already know that you can never please everyone.” You nod miserably, aware that she could no longer see you. Both your therapist and your friends had told you as much many times. She continues, “But ARMY loves to see the boys interact with other ARMY. It’s another way they get to know them and feel connected. If you ask me, you’ll have more people projecting onto you than judging you. Not that they won’t judge, but” She shrugs, “People always do.”

You slowly sit up and shoot an admiring look at the woman. “Woah,” you mumble, “How are you so wise?”

Hannuel barks out a surprised laugh. “Life experience, mostly.” She replies amusedly.

You settle back into your seat and finally notice that Hannuel had stopped the car before what you assume to be the final turn before the boys would be in view. You feel a rush of gratefulness for her. You hadn’t known her very long, but Hannuel had already been an incredible help and a very soothing presence to you. You should buy her something nice before you leave if you get the chance. See if you can send a gift basket through Hybe for her if you don't.

She starts the car rolling forward again as you reappear in the rear-view mirror, fully over your momentary theatrics. You take another deep breath and let it out again. It helps more this time.

“It’s not like my socials are public or anything either," You soothe yourself aloud, "And my friends already know me, they’re just excited. Everyone else is secondary.”

“Exactly” Hannuel affirms. You jump just a bit and then try to pretend you hadn’t forgotten she could hear you. Luckily, she’s too busy driving the car to notice. “Like I said, you’ll be just fine.”

Unfortunately for Hannuel’s encouraging words, you’d finally rolled close enough for you to spot seven men standing near 3 other SUVs just ahead and you were suddenly incapable of hearing anything anymore.

Static fills your brain as you study them. You register the casual clothes, watch them nudge each other excitedly as they notice your vehicle, even note the camera crew nearby, but not a single thought makes it past the haze of panic. Distantly, you wonder if this is what an adrenaline rush feels like. You suddenly can’t remember.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears as the car comes to a gentle stop.

You absently bring one hand up to the pulse point under your jaw to measure your pulse and raise the other to your chest to make sure you’re still breathing. Hannuel is repeating instructions for your benefit in the front seat, but you simply cannot engage your brain enough to listen. All too soon she's exiting the car. You manage to tear your hands away from their comforting positions as she comes around and opens your door for you.

Hannuel helps you down as you duck out of the car and gives you a brief sympathetic smile as she takes your trembling hand.

Excited exclamations meet your arrival and you hastily paste confidence over your every mannerism as you lift both hands to wave back with equal excitement. Hannuel is the only one close enough to be able to see your hands continuing to shake, or note the fact that you stop breathing as you approach BTS.

You hope your smile isn't too tight and that you look appropriately excited. Hopefully whatever the cameras are seeing right now can be explained by excitement and reasonable nerves. You'll take your near panic-attack to the nearest private space, thanks.

"Hello! Oh my goodness, hi!" You release your held breath as you great them, first shaking RM's hand as they return your greeting before stepping back and bowing as best you can as you introduce yourself.

This prompts a round of mostly redundant introductions from the members, starting with RM and then continuing down the line until they'd all politely introduced themselves.

You can't quite stop yourself from running your hands through your hair as you take them in.

#Baby Writes #w.i.p #w.i.p fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bangtan fic #bangtan x reader #Run ARMY! AU

7 notes · View notes

tailorvizsla · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I love your writing. Could I please request some angst with the lovely Prince Oberyn Martell? thank yoooouuuuuuuuu

Anon, I’m pretty sure you meant to send this to someone else, but I’m more than happy to give it a whirl. 🤣

Title: Mistaken Identity Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader Word Count: ~2000 Rating: R Warnings: Angst, but with a happy ending, mentions of sex and violence typical for the show (I think), no explicit content though. Author’s Notes: shrug idk man I know nothing about GoT. This may go really well or it may go really poorly.

📚 My Master List 📚

If you want to be tagged in anything, send me an ask or leave a comment!

Wind howls through the long, winding stone corridors of the ancient castle you call home. Outside, lightning flashes, briefly illuminating the wild, windswept landscape. Whispers of your Prince’s death had taken the castle by storm, occupants and servants alive working themselves into a frenzy until a blood-stained golden cloth had been brought in. It felt like a fist to the gut. Even now, your breath comes in tiny gasps, your head swimming as you struggle to stay on your feet. Now, in your narrow room, you watch as the servants begin to build the funeral pyre in the courtyard.

“Milady,” comes a soft voice from the door.

“I do not wish to be disturbed,” you say, the words thick in your mouth. “Leave.”

“Milady,” your lady’s maid insists. “Please, come away from the window. You will catch your death if you linger in this cold.”

Pursing your lips, you step back, knowing that the older woman speaks the truth. The nights have grown chilly as of late. You wonder if you will ever feel warmth again without Oberyn’s arms around you. How could this have happened?

“Milady, if it pleases you,” she says, standing next to the bed.

She keeps her head bowed, but you can see the apprehensive look on her face, as if she fears you will fly off in a fit of hysterics. Part of you wishes to fly off into hysterics, but you know that you cannot afford to do so. With Oberyn gone, there is no one left to protect you, should someone decide to begin gossiping. You need to worry about what your future will bring, but you cannot bring yourself to such selfish thoughts.

Oberyn is dead. He deserves to be mourned.

She slides the warming pan out from under the sheets as you slide in. The bed is pleasantly warm. As she draws the curtain, she dims the candles and excuses herself. When you are certain she is gone, you grab your dressing gown and sink down into the divan at the end of the bed. His tunic is still here. It looks like he had left for just a moment to attend to business elsewhere, as if he will return in just a few moments’ time.

“Oberyn,” you whisper softly, eyes filling with tears as you stroke the golden silk between your fingers. “Oberyn. How could you leave like this? Without so much as a goodbye?”

Your throat tightens and the tears stream down your face, but you stifle your sobs, lest the maid in the adjoining room hear and come investigate.

“I still remember the day we first met,” you continue softly, running your fingers along the embroidered neckline. “My brother wished to curry your favor. I did not want to come – I confess, I was terrified. I could not stop shaking, praying that you would not notice me. I thought you might eat me like a snake would.”

You had hidden yourself behind your brother, drawing up your veil to conceal your features, hoping that the Prince known as the Red Viper would ignore you. That he would not notice you cowering in terror.

“Of course, I would not be so lucky, would I?” you ask softly, smiling sadly. “You greeted my brother by name. Then you looked at me. I could feel your eyes boring into my soul, Oberyn. Like I was completely bare before you.”

You had kept your eyes downcast and focused on the stone beneath your feet. Then he stepped closer. Then his hand drifted into view. Hard, calloused fingertips pressed against your jaw, as gentle as a butterfly’s wing, tilting your head up. Still, you refused to look at him – still terrified that he would have pupils like a real snake.

“Such lovely eyes,” he remarked, and that had broken your resolve.

You looked him right in the eyes. Even now, you still feel the warmth quivering in your belly when you recall his beautiful brown eyes. They had been filed with fire, burning into your very heart. You had let your eyes admire his features – soft, curling brown hair, prominent brows, and a distinguished nose. A plump lower lip. Carefully trimmed facial hair. Yet you could not stop looking at his eyes, marveling at his warmth.

“Of course, I made a fool of myself,” you whisper, sniffling as you laugh. “Do you remember, what I said next, my prince?” You wipe your eyes. “Oh, Prince Martell, the rumors are false!”

You laugh into the neck of his tunic, catching the faintest whiff of his rapidly fading scent. You choke back a sob, curling forward around the fabric. “You asked me, ‘What rumors, little one?’ And I…I…oh, how did you not refrain from simply removing my head?”

You laugh quietly.

“My Lord, your pupils are round!” you whisper with a soft smile. He had been in utter shock for just a moment before carefully schooling away his response. Before he could respond, your brother had turned and grabbed you by the arm, his other hand rising to beat you for your insult. “But you stopped him from flogging me, Oberyn.”

He caught your brother by the arm and forced it back down, eyes flashing with fury and jaw set tightly.

“I am called the Red Viper,” you whisper softly, remembering the keen look of amusement he had shot at you. “Do not strike her for believing the tales you have likely whispered into her ear.”

Your brother had been furious with you. After the prince had left, he had caught you by the arm and squeezed so hard he left a violent, hand-shaped bruise on you. He had promised to inflict punishment for your embarrassing behavior, to ensure you could never speak so improperly to your lord again.

“Before he could hurt me, you invited me to serve your lady here in the castle,” you continue. “He could not refuse without causing offense, and so you saved me. You have saved me so many times from my own stupidity.”

There had been so, so many of those moments as well.

“You taught me to read, to write, and to defend myself,” you say. “You gave me a dagger, Oberyn. You coated it in poison and made me swear to use it only to protect myself. Without you…what will happen to the kingdom? To your family?...to me?”

Sighing, you let your shoulders sag. You had spent countless nights here with him. From that first encounter where you lay on the bed, stiff as a board, terrified that it really would hurt as much as the married women back home told you it would. Until he told you that you had no obligations to share your bed with him. That he would not force you to partake. That had brought you pause – your brother had often lectured you on what would await you on your wedding night. Drink copiously, he said, it is the only way to make it bearable that first time for a woman.

“You are the only person who listened when I said no,” you say softly, tears splashing onto the fabric, dotting the fabric with damps spots. “You were so kind to me. You were gentle. You showed me that I did not need to be afraid.”

Oberyn then sat on the edge of the bed, tunic unbuttoned to his belly button, and looked at you with those warm, sympathetic, brown eyes. Shyly, you asked him to stay and tell you stories about his time at the Citadel, about the things he had learned there. And he did. He told you about the lands he had traveled to in his youth. The duels he had won. The time spent with the mercenaries in Essos. You marveled at his stories, staring up at him in awe, until you had finally drifted off to sleep in that soft, warm space in his arms.

For a week, he came back every night to hold you and tell you stories.

Then, one afternoon, you happened upon him training with one of his men. You had hidden yourself in the shadows to watch him, stunned into silence as he spun, parried, dodged, and blocked with ease. He moved with such deadly grace, lunging once to claim victory over his opponent.

The uncomfortable throb in your belly lingered until that night, where you shyly confessed to spying on him. He had given you such a mischief-filled smirk, whispering “I know” as his fingers slipped under your skirt.

This time, you encouraged him to continue, biting your lip at the memory of his fine, muscular body as his fingers found your intimacy. He had kissed you, touched you, made you feel like you were floating in the sky like the clouds. Oberyn showed you the most exquisite pleasure at his hand. You had never known such fire, such passion. That was not all he taught you.

“You taught me to stand up for myself. To protect myself when you were not here. How would my family react if they knew I would gut them for touching me?” you ask, hand falling to the sheath on your thigh. “How would they react if they knew I could read, write, and provide for myself?”

Sighing, you press your hand into your face. So many people had tried to take advantage of you, and he had protected you each time. Slowly, surely, you had learned the games played at court, and you adapted.

“Oh, my prince,” you whisper sadly. “Now you are gone, and it feels as if my soul has shattered. Will this ache ever end? Will I ever be whole again without you here?”

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, you press your face into his tunic again, shoulders shaking as you finally break down and sob. You are only vaguely aware of the door opening and footsteps. A warm hand falls to your shoulder. Pure anger fills you at the thought of the maid touching you. You shove the hand off and jump to your feet, ready to snap at the girl. You come to a half upon seeing those familiar brown eyes.

“O-Oberyn?” you whisper. He grins. You sink down onto the divan, your face draining of its blood as he comes a step closer. He reaches out and presses his fingers to your cheek. He tilts your face up and leans in for a kiss. You stay there, staring up at him.

“I thought – I thought you we-were dead,” you stammer out, shaking your head.

“They neglected to mention which lord was dead,” he says. The impish grin on his face fades away at the expression on your face. “Oh, my sweet – you truly thought I was dead, didn’t you?”

Mutely, you nod, and then the overwhelming relief spills out. You begin to sob into the tunic in your hands. Oberyn joins you on the divan and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He smells like sweat and the road, as if he had ridden nonstop to get back home.

“Oh, my sweet, I am here,” he whispers into your hair. “I will not leave you that easily. I am here. Do not cry. It was someone else who perished.”

That does not help you in the least bit. The sobs grow louder, much to your mortification, as you grab great big handfuls of his robes, holding him tight. Oberyn holds you closer, hand massaging your back, as soft noises escape him. It takes a long time before your sobs die down, but he holds you the entire time, never once letting you go.

“Dry your tears,” he soothes. “Do not weep for me.”

He reaches up and brushes one of your tears away with his thumb.

“There we are,” he says. “Let me see that beautiful smile.”

You smile for him. He leans in and presses his lips to yours. You close your eyes, sighing with pleasure as he deepens the kiss, teeth grazing your lower lip. A whimper escapes you as his hand finds your breast. He kneads gently, pinching your areola lightly. When you gasp, his tongue flicks out against yours, his free hand curling around the back of your neck. Before you can gather your thoughts, he pulls away.

“I am going to bathe,” he says. “I will return shortly, my sweet.”

You sulk as he smirks at you.

“Surely you can last?” he asks. “Or would you like to join me in the bath?”

Oh.

“I will join you,” you say, getting to your feet.

Oberyn grins and laughs at you, offering his hand. You take it and let him lead you out of the bedroom, the thoughts of a hot bath soothing away the anxiety and fear that had been plaguing you all day.

Tags:

@hdlynn @princessbatears @oloreaa @phoenixhalliwell @reader-without-a-story @nelba @aeryntheofficial @trippedmetaldetector @jedi-mando @marthastewart89 @razzlefrazzum @paintballkid711 @hayley-the-comet @prxtty-big-simp @aesnawan @leias-left-hair-bun @shadylightbearherring @calamity-queen @pedroepascal @dinsdjarinwp

#game of thrones #prince martell x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #sad at first but then it's happy #y'all i have never seen a single episode of GoT #what i know about this series is limited to about three gif sets i have reblogged #but he's cute #he's v cute #i could def see myself wearing that yellow shirt thing

89 notes · View notes

seoafin · 4 years ago

Note

Sooo i may or may not have become obsessed with the rip!verse (each of your posts make my day and white lighters what a delightful read, holy shit) and i have so many questions! (Pls ma'am... feed us... we need the high quality content you provide...)

1. What is reader's cursed technique? I remember toji saying she had potential upon (brutally) trying to kill her and her examining yuji to... idk, try to seal sukuna, but you've never explicitly said anyting and i am dying to know more (pls help)

2. We all know poor, poor Megumi suffers from the incessant pining between reader and gojo. But what about Yuji and Nobara? And the second years? Do they try to set them together, crossing out the ideas/plans they've already tried, becoming more and more desperate each time it inevitabely fails in the most improbable way? Or does gojo asks for their help?

3. And how could i not talk about the Shibuya Arc? (also known as "gege please for the love of god stop" arc) Where is reader? Did she manage to follow gojo abd watch the... incident unfold? Did she stay behind with Shoko? Did she go with the students? Did she join the kyoto school? How did she react upon learning that gojo was chillin' in his lil cube while the whole world was going to hell? (And did she see Getwo??? What was her reaction??? I have whole scene in mind and am now itching to write it down although i must sleep?? Why??)

(Yep, the rip!verse leaves rent free in my mind. Not that i complain though. It never ceases to amaze me no matter how many times i read it. Plus it inspires me for my own writing so *bows* thank you so much for creating such a bloody brilliant masterpiece! Have a lovely night/day!)

THIS ASK??? Hxhsbndnd i’m so glad you like the ripverse!!

prepare for an info dump + general information on rip!mc which I probably should have typed out/ elaborated on earlier LOL

honestly i'm still working out the details but it's probably going to be something along the lines of the ability to suspend time for a person/object with certain conditions that must be met. but once they're met you can hold it for as long as you wish. It’s not exactly an offensive cursed technique, but deadly if utilized properly! it also comes in handy when trying to study curses!

rip!mc is a historian/researcher who classifies curses which is a fascination which was born after geto left. weirdly, it helps you feel closer to him. your research takes you around the country, and even abroad some times (which gojo despises), but you’re more than well equipped to defend yourself. you trained maki with the polearm!!

I also like the idea of them occasionally teaching as an adjunct professor at Tokyo University (grad student MC ftw), so they know what it’s like to be a teacher, although it’s not exactly the same! the semesters you do teach—you occasionally stay with gojo

the reason why toji said that is bc rip!mc caught toji's eye a split second before he stabbed gojo. since you’re very very sensitive to cursed energy and by default, other people, the pure absence of cursed energy made you instinctively turn. toji was referring to the fact that if you honed your skill a little more, you maybe would have even sensed him!

also the reason why rip!mc is more sensitive to cursed energy than gojo is because he probably automatically filters out the sheer number different cursed energies (since the sensory overload would be crazy while rip!mc never really learned to do that and as a result became more attuned to cursed energies in general)

Also more about the cursed seals! Rip!mc is exceptionally good at making seals because of how sensitive they are to cursed energy. In harmonious, you had to gauge sukuna’s overall (at the time) power in order feel out whether or not you could make a good enough seal (the higher ups requested it) to contain sukuna.

Everyone is tired of gojo’s pining. And suspicious at how oddly ignorant you are. When gojo makes himself at home on your lap in the middle of a meeting for the umpteenth time, and you’re completely unfazed, everyone’s like?????

It kinda goes back to how rip!mc refuses relationships because she knows she’s going to die (hazards of the job), and she’s afraid of leaving a lover behind more than anything (childhood trauma. involves parents), and in her head, friends and lovers are two distinctly different things (they really aren’t). Getting over a friend's death is different from getting over a lover’s death (once again, not really, who’s going to tell her???)

And gojo, for as much as he lacks boundaries (ie; has none) tries to accommodate it the best he can although you’ve always been his. shoko always tells gojo that (like always when it comes to rip!mc) he’s jumping the gun, but he shoots her with finger guns and says that he has no idea what she’s talking about :)

Maybe the reason why you’re never home is because you doesn’t want to confront your feelings haha

When it comes to the nosy students. Nobara likes you but can’t fathom gojo in a relationship. Yuji automatically assumes you and gojo are dating. Maki thinks that you can do so much better than that idiot. Panda thinks it’s cute. Inumaki: Salmon. Yuta sees the way gojo “looks” at you but thinks he’s overthinking it, and doesn’t want to say anything.

Megumi, on the other hand, tells everyone to leave it since he’s a bit protective over rip!mc.

You’re not the only one!! I’ve gotten messages on ao3 asking about the shibuya arc LOL 😭

the reader was called back from Okinawa as backup and reached tokyo as soon as gojo entered the curtain. he texted her saying not to worry (haha). They entered with shoko and yaga to protect her and the patients. And when she hears that gojo’s been sealed, she’s completely bewildered. Gojo can take care of himself wherever he is, she’s more worried about the students than him tbh LOL (gojo is definitely going to whine about that later)

When megumi’s dropped off by yuji (ugh!!!) this is where it could go either way.

1) Shoko sees how worried you are about yuji, whose cursed energy you picked up before he ran away, and tells you to go. You find him but he runs away from you. If this happened I could see a getwo reunion (I’m hurt, did you already forget my face?) where getwo reaches out to touch your hair and gets stopped by surprise, surprise, original geto deep inside. Cue some more body vs soul philosophical talking points before you eventually meet up with the kyoto gang AND utahime!!!

2) Stay with shoko. Eventually get called to the Kyoto group.

Meanwhile inside the prison realm gojo is playing with a ring the size of your ring finger (how he got the measurement nobody knows)

#i will...probably make another post that's more coherent than this but im just v excited you asked LOL #the thing is....gojo WOULD ask you to seriously marry him without having gone on one official date with you...like he'd do it..#at least...it's not a ringpop....#and hellooo?? write it down write anything down even the smallest bit im sure would be amazing!!#I want the shibuya arc to come to an almost close before really thinking abt it tho #ripverse

83 notes · View notes

idk-my-aesthetic · 4 years ago

Text

Ok the whole thing w/ clogging up ao3 tags is stupid for multiple reasons, like how it fucks with screen readers for one, but the MAJOR issue is that having too many tags isn’t actually a problem w/ ao3

Like seriously guys? There is a lot to criticize. And I say this as someone who heavily relied on fandom spaces to get me through some really really hard times and still loves ao3. I can say I love what it does for fandom while also acknowledging there’s some seriously fucked up shit going on both behind the scenes and with ppl who use the site. It’s literally like saying “I love tumblr but I acknowledge there are literal nazis on here and as a Jew/human with a working brain I hate them and that they’ve been here so long”

Like. I get u think ur sticking it to the man or whatever. And idk I partially agree bc. There’s so much nasty shit and some technically illegal shit that I don’t want to even mention! But ur not even wasting the moderators time or anything ur just being obnoxious and then everyone starts discoursing on tumblr and I’m legitimately tired of it. I don’t wanna see ppl defending gross stuff and I’m tired of talking about the ppl who do defend gross stuff bc I don’t wanna remember that they exist bc I have shit to do irl and not enough space in my brain for them

So. Idk ima propose at least a temporary solution before I have to hear one more argument for or against censorship bc y’all seriously don’t understand how to have a nuanced conversation

How about instead of asking AO3 to take down gross fics (which may or may not be morally correct but will 100% reopen a very over done conversation) instead we ask for some specific plausible things

1) when you use ao3 explicit and unrated fics are automatically filtered out. They do this on ff.net. Yes it may be like 2 extra clicks for ppl who wanna read explicit stuff but ppl who don’t are going to do that anyway, and it protects the people who don’t know to do that and don’t want to read graphic tags. Most importantly it requires consent to browse explicit fics. Yeah you need to give consent to read explicit stuff, but you can look through the incredibly graphic tags/summaries without consenting to anything. It’s literally the default. Which is both upsetting to ppl who don’t wanna see that and also maybe a bit of a legal loophole they should close up

2) a “suggest tags” feature. This would be moderated by authors not ao3 staff. Basically ppl can like..... idk entire a series of tags and you can choose if you want to add them or not. The person submitting them has an option to be anonymous or not. Obviously the author doesn’t have to add every random tag and it might be annoying but it would help with making sure triggers got tagged. It would be helpful if it didn’t let you suggest tags that were already suggested/on the fic but I’m not too picky. Like I said the point of this is to make sure ppl can block stuff properly, and it honestly might also help authors with visibility bc like. Obviously you know the tags you use but you don’t know what tags other ppl look for. Again maybe it may be obnoxious with ppl having a lot of tags but people already have a lot of tags

3) a dispute rating button. Now before someone bitches at me that the ao3 moderators don’t have time to go through disputes- I know I already took that into consideration. Basically the idea is when you dispute the rating the site will ask you what rating you think it should be and anonymously log it. So if someone rated something M but you think it should be an E the site will log that and send a message to the author. The author has a choice if they actually want to listen to ppl and change the rating or not. They don’t actually have to listen to the ppl disputing the rating. Unless they get a certain amount of disputes. I was thinking maybe like 50 or so?* So if 50 ppl say “hey this really needs to have a different rating” then and only then would the moderators take a look at the fic. And the moderators would then figure out what the rating should be.

(*idk if 50 is the right #. I was thinking it should maybe work on like a percentage of your hits in the fic?)

3.5) have a sexual content marker. This is marked as 3.5 bc i feel like this idea if implemented would be misused. But yeah in theory you could just have a sexual content marker that could be clicked by the OP and then automatically filtered. Again you could use the system from #3 but again I feel like ppl would missuse it.

Anyway yeah. I wanted to give some viable solutions ppl on both sides might actually agree with. Like I get not wanting to make concessions with gross ppl, but it’s a lot faster so I’m ok with doing it for now while the rest of y’all continue to debate or w/e

Final note- please for the love of g-d learn how ratings work. Ask someone else’s opinion if you have too. I have seen so many explicit fics marked as mature or teen it’s a legitimate problem. I’ll give a quick rundown of what each rating means but pls guys

General- g- basically go by what you’d see in a Disney cartoon

Teen- pg/pg 13 - there are swears there’s violence, sex may be mentioned, you might call someone sexy or smthn idc, but no one is shown having sex or or discussing/thinking about it in detail

Mature- R - injuries/gore may be described with more detail. Uhh there could be some heavy making out and the characters might talk about sex or feeling sexually attracted to someone. But actual sex is not shown!! If you have to mention or refer to someone’s genetalia in any sexual way you should probably move it up to an E. Even if ur characters are fully clothed the entire time. Also If you’re talking about kinks outside of a quick joke or reference you should probably move it up to an E.

Explicit- NC 17- sexually explicit content. (You can put non-sexual violent stuff under here but most ppl leave it under mature)

TLDR/oversimplification(for the ratings) -

General: nothing sexual

Teen: implied sex

Mature: refrenced sex

Explicit: shown sex

General tldr:

Some criticisms of Ao3 are valid and needed, and some are just stupid and infuriating (specifically talking about the tag thing stop it’s annoying and ableist). There is constant arguments and drama surrounding those criticisms, and I decided to offer some solutions that actually have a chance at getting implemented, even if I would prefer a different option.

#ao3 #ao3 drama #ao3 tags #I’m really swinging a bat at a bees nest huh #shipping discourse #ao3 discourse #I don’t want anyone to come yell at me for either defending OR demonizing ao3 #please understand that I can have a nuanced opinion where I both love and greatly dislike it at the same time #also I’m tagging this with shipping discourse and shit but pls don’t bug me about that #literally all I have to say on it is a) don’t harass ppl b) don’t do gross shit c) if someone likes something harmless don’t be a d*ck #and d) u are not immune to criticism #if you get called out for being racist or gross you don’t get a get out of jail free card just bc we’re online #if you hand sew a nazi flag ppl are allowed to get mad even if it’s ur hobby #if you harass someone by mail your going to jail #don’t do shit online you wouldn’t do irl and expect 0 consequences #this is several bees nests and I am a coward so I’m posting this and immediately going to bed

41 notes · View notes

ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

Text

Between Bars (Spencer Reid x OC)

Summary: Spencer is wrongfully arrested for murder and placed in Millburn Correctional Facility awaiting trial. While he attempts to survive until his friends can prove his innocence, his cellmate Oscar has an unexpected effect on Spencer during their time inside together.

AN: Thank you to @april-14-blog, @zhuzhubii, and @imagining-in-the-margins for your unwavering attention and support while writing this.

I’m writing another post-prison Spencer fic but idk when it’s coming out. I’m still caring for my dad and prepping for my nan’s funeral.

To the anon who asked for an Emily Prentiss x Trans!Male reader smut, it’s in the works I promise!!

Word count: 11k words

Content warning: Usual criminal minds violence, character death, spoilers for season 12, threats of violence, stabbing, PTSD, mentions of battery, mentions of panic attacks. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Masterlist // AO3 Link

“My last roommate got shanked.”

Spencer struggled for a second to keep his composure. The cell door slid shut with a loud buzzer and a clank of hollow metal.

His cellmate, in that identical grey jumpsuit, was tucked up on the bottom bunk with a book in one hand and a green crayon in the other. He was underlining something. Once he was done, his eye lifted off the page. They just as devoid of emotion as his opener was. That scared Spencer more, that this man had clearly spent a long time in here being dehumanised to the point where he held about the emotional range of a mannequin.

But at least he wasn’t violent. Yet.

Spencer approached the foot of his bed. His hands, one of them still sore from the cut on the palm, placed his belongings there. A tremble ran through them when his cellmate moved out of his line of sight; the sudden thought of being stabbed through the underside of his bunk kept him standing for now.

“I’m not gonna shank you.”

Spencer’s shoulders squared, “Ok.”

“Name’s Oscar.”

“Spencer Reid.”

“Welcome to hell, Spencer Reid.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

His chore was laundry. It was somewhere without sharp objects, which meant inmates brought their own. Spencer was doing his best to walk the balance between standing his ground and not making himself a target. But apparently there was no such line to follow and no help from his cellmate, sifting through his own cart of laundry on the other side of the room.

That was until the inmates began taunting Spencer over his belongings.

“Excuse me.”

The crowd immediately parted to make way for Oscar, whose unflinching gaze pushed them further back.

“Thank you,” he said in the same empty tone. His very deliberate stare landed on Spencer as he passed and collected a pile of towels from the table at the room’s centre. The group around them dispersed and remained so even as Oscar returned to his station.

Oscar’s hands weren’t shaking before then. Now, certainly, as he stuffed bedsheets into the giant machine, a tremble ran through his arms and stuck in his wrists.

Spencer didn’t comment, not even that evening as he climbed onto his bunk, his back pressed hard against the wall. His knees pulled close acted as a desk for his journal. His pen scribbled away long after lights out, putting down his thoughts, his innocence, trapping his worries onto the paper. It was too long until his next evaluation. His notebook was his only confidant now.

A creak beneath him stilled his hand, and he felt himself freeze as the shadow of Oscar rose up from his bunk. One of his hands was behind his back. Spencer’s feet dug into the mattress and forced him hard against the concrete. His eyes flinched shut as Oscar brought his hand out. But they opened as soon as they were closed and they were met with surprise.

In Oscar’s palm sat a red crayon.

“You’ll wanna swap to this,” He said with such a softness that Spencer spent the next ten seconds processing it. His incessant blinking did nothing to clear up what was happening.

Eventually he said an equally quiet voice, “Why?”

Oscar’s shoulders shrugged an inch, the tension he held in them inflexible, “Worst you can get from this is a bruise.”

Slowly, Spencer accepted the crayon with his left hand and rolled the pencil around in the right. “What should I do with this?”

“Hide it.” And Oscar disappeared from view.

Spencer ran his finger over the tip of the crayon before he dragged it across the paper. It would suffice for now. Maybe he could ask one of his friends to send some his way in their next letter. If they weren’t too busy trying to solve his case.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

JJ’s presence was the most welcomed part of Spencer’s life here. But he almost hated it.

Opposite him, always several inches between them as well as a divider, JJ holding up one of Henry’s drawings but unable to hand it over to him, it drove him insane. The constant reminders on the walls – and often barked by guards – not to touch coated their conversation. JJ didn’t ask about the bruises from his most recent beating. She answered Spencer’s queries, updating him on his case.

Spencer tried very hard not to sound so eager about getting out. His hopes were already dashed to pieces; the fragments were just holding on. He needed that hope to survive but if it grew too strong, it would destroy him.

For half a second, his attention was drawn out of the goodbye to see Oscar nearby. He was standing before another visitor’s table and a young woman who had the same nose as him on the other side.

He missed JJ’s hugs. He longed for one long after she had disappeared from view, shuffling along with the rest of them towards the refectory.

A commotion erupted up ahead. Spencer watched with masked reverence and the rest of the line as Oscar remained unflinching in the volume of the guard’s shouting. Even when he got right up in Oscar’s face, Oscar was stoic as spittle sprayed across his face. Moment after the guard walked away, Oscar wiped his face clean, a terrifyingly neutral expression held together.

Once lunch was done, Spencer re-joined with his new friend Luis in the laundry room, who was still not over Spencer’s injuries. There was something else that Spencer wanted to talk about.

“Do you know much about…” Spencer dropped his voice to barely a whisper, “Oscar?”

Luis looked at Oscar with the subtlety of an elephant seal then back to Spencer to deliver his answer, “He’s gone after people in the prison, but nothing ever gets tied to him.”

And Luis proved his point when Oscar pressed his hands against the stab wound in Luis’ neck, a futile attempt to save his life after Frazier and Duerson’s failed recruiting of Spencer. Oscar fled the scene without consequence, leaving Spencer in the pool of blood, and he never once tripped on his alibi or took off his armour. Not even when Spencer spoke at him about it before lights out.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

But Spencer found a chink in the armour.

Oscar’s sleeping problems were apparent throughout the night. If his offering of a crayon earlier hadn’t been enough evidence, the yawning and tossing about the bottom bunk. Spencer knew why Oscar was awake too. He wasn’t the type to stay awake to ensure his continued survival. Insomnia was a symptom that Spencer was starting to show too. He had been struggling to rest while he gathered the aforementioned evidence. For some reason, it brought him a slither of comfort, because it made Oscar more human.

Another was the letters he had in his pillow case – the most obvious place to hide something, therefore the least obvious? Reverse psychology aside, some nights featured the rustling of paper

Work in the laundry room continued as if there wasn’t a man murdered in it just days before. Oscar was reinforcing the contrast between yesterday and now with a faint hum. He was clearly a little more comfortable since it was just him and Spencer in the room.

Spencer’s mind pulled up Howl’s Moving Castle which he watched with Penelope. Oh, Penelope. With her bright colours and optimism. It was not a film he pictured Oscar to be a fan of. But he hardly knew him, and he wanted to.

“What song is that?”

Oscar shrugged. A huff forced itself out of his nose. “Don’t remember.”

“It sounds nice.”

He huffed again, clearly closing the conversation. Spencer counted in items he tossed into the machine, flinching still at the marks on the bedsheets. His eye avoided them but landed on the dark patch of concrete where Luis had bled out.

“Oscar, why did you defend me last week?” Spencer asked.

“I don’t know.” The irritable edge in his voice prevailed the more he spoke, “But you owe me so consider this: don’t be a mule for them.”

It was an almost anger that Spencer felt at this request. Surely Oscar would understand, of all people, after being in here that:

“They’ll kill me if I don’t.”

Oscar sighed and turned his back to Spencer, no longer humming. Spencer felt a twang in his gut pluck away at his rage. But he also felt satisfaction in the fact that he had gotten Oscar to crack again. Not in a malevolent way, he felt like he was getting Oscar to open up more and more.

“I’m doing what I need to survive,” Spencer added. For his sake, maybe, but he knew it was a little more reassurance for Oscar.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“I am innocent.”

“You’re gonna get killed if you keep saying that so loud.”

Spencer stopped speaking, but he kept moving about the floor space of the cell. The worst part was the walk up to the bars. But, with his notebook confiscated, he had no other outlet and he made sure that Oscar knew this as well.

“It keeps me grounded, reminds me of who I am.”

Oscar didn’t say anything about Spencer’s incessant pacing, simply turning a page in his new book, “That must be nice.”

With a deep breath of stale prison air, Spencer’s speed grew erratic until he very nearly kicked at the bars in frustration. He stopped himself just as the instruction reached the surgery scars on his knee. It stung as he jumped up into his bunk and squeezed his knees to his chest, his arms shaking with the pressure he put on them.

“How many years do you have to go?” He said quietly.

“Half a year until an appeal, six years if I serve the rest of my sentence. You?”

“My trial has been postponed. I was offered a plea deal. But-” Spencer stopped to swallow, a pitiful attempt against the absolute Sahara that was his mouth “- But I didn’t do it.”

His hand pushed the heel of his palm into his eye. The other screwed itself shut as his mind zeroed in on his actions. When Spencer’s hand lifted away, Oscar was standing up in front of him. His white shirt was on show, the top half of his jumpsuit rolled down with the arms tied around his waist. He was stretching his arms up, and his head was tilted a few inches to the left as he watched Spencer with a blank face.

No, not blank.

Open.

Then his stoicism clouded over and Oscar dropped his arms. “Nice rehearsal for the jury.”

Spencer’s irritation became inflamed, “That kind of attitude might get you a badge of honour here-”

“This kind of attitude,” Oscar interrupted, and immediately Spencer regretted his words, “Has helped me survive here. I suggest you stop running your mouth if you wanna do the same.”

The burst of anger fizzled out fast like a firework, and Spencer watched Oscar disappear out of sight with a dull thud on his mattress. But before he could, Spencer had noticed that Oscar’s hands were shaking again, just like he hadn’t seen since the fight in the laundry room – the first one.

Spencer’s hands gripping his shins, he worried that he had lost another… friend? Ally? He didn’t really know what to use as a description for their relationship but Spencer knew what he wanted. Least of all, he wanted Oscar to be upset with him.

“Oscar?”

Nothing. Spencer slipped off the bed and pressed his back against the wall, sinking down until he was on the ground. His eyes were on Oscar, who was staring without seeing Spencer opposite him. Nevertheless, Spencer stayed in his sight and asked a tentative question.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get out?”

Oscar blinked and his gaze shifted a millimetre to Spencer and his peace offering. Then Spencer saw it. A quiver of Oscar’s bottom lip, then it shifted and Spencer noticed that Oscar was biting the inside to stop his reaction taking over any more of himself.

When his mouth opened, it released a sigh before he spoke. “Hug my mom.”

Spencer nodded, the stuffiness of his throat returning as he fought to keep back tears, “Me too.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was an attempt to get Frazier and Duerson off Spencer’s back. Maybe to stop him from taking the drugs himself. The temptation was certainly lingering stronger, with the promise of a temporary respite.

But now the prison was locked down. Shaw, along with four other inmates, were isolated in the infirmary. These were far from innocent men but God that didn’t mean what he had done was right.

He’d done it to survive, but it was still all his fault.

“What’s up with you?”

The gate to their cell sliding shut behind Oscar. He stared at Spencer sat in the bottom bunk, his head in his hands. Footsteps echoed down the corridor before another buzzer and another gate opened then shut again. They were far from alone, the concrete providing an illusion that there wasn’t an endless tunnel with two men per cage.

“Spencer.”

He stood up, dropping the grip from his hair. His ears tuned into the noise from other prisoners. What he wouldn’t give for some silence right now.

“The poisonings were my fault.”

All air sucked from Spencer’s lungs as Oscar was suddenly upon him. He was smacked against the wall, Oscar’s hand over his mouth, his forearm pinning him into place. Spencer let out a cross between a gulp and a sob, caught into his throat as Oscar harshly shushed him. Spencer’s eyes looked around Oscar terrified, he struggled against him.

Oscar’s voice rasped with a spitting disgust, “You’re really fucking stupid!”

And he slammed his weight against Spencer again, his breathing heavy, his pupils dilated, “Don’t you fucking dare repeat that to anyone.”

Spencer’s head knocked against the resolute wall when Oscar shoved him once more, stepping back and creating distance between them. With the ache at the back of his skull, Spencer stared dazedly at his cellmate.

Oscar’s voice matched his haggard appearance when he said, “You’re a dead man, Spencer.”

The intimacy of his name striking right at his heart, Spencer worried that he would join Oscar in tears. But there was no time; a guard rattled his baton against the bars.

“What’s going on in there?” He bellowed into the cell.

Oscar clenched his jaw, “Nothing.”

Then he reclaimed his bunk and faced the wall.

“Into bed, inmate!”

Sparing a glance to the vulnerable position Oscar was laying in, unable to receive the look of gratitude, Spencer got into his bunk. The silence he wished for enveloped him and he longed for it to vanish.

He pressed his palm against his lips. It wasn’t the same as when Oscar did it.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

His second meeting with Dr. Tara Lewis revealed that Spencer had manufactured his own memory and that he had been coerced. But the BAU needed proof of his innocence, and Spencer resumed his waiting game in the yard.

Oscar was taking a new route around the edge of the wire fencing as opposed to spending his free time in the gym. His shoes scuffed in the dirt, no doubt rubbing a blister into his heel (based on his gait), and his step weaved around the groups to avoid interacting with anyone. Wordlessly, Spencer joined him. Oscar looked at him but didn’t speak.

Spencer’s session with Tara had brought forward a question he had considered asking before. Tara had spoken about his mother, how life was before prison. Spencer missed being known, knowing someone. The rawness of that need hung off his frame with his jumpsuit. Oscar was probably still pissed off with him. But God, Spencer needed to cease this withdrawal from human contact more than anything.

“What did you do, Oscar?” He asked under his breath, “To get into prison?”

“I knew a guy; he was the worst kind of person to get caught up with. He did some things to me. So I beat him up, and I cut his pecker off.”

It all sounded so very rehearsed, and Spencer wondered if Oscar had been planning what to say since they first met. The two men continued to walk in step until eventually Oscar broke the silence.

“Yours isn’t on my to-do list.” The left corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke

Spencer lifted his stare from Oscar’s mouth, hoping the heat around them would mask his blush, “Did he die?”

“No,” Oscar ironed his lips back into a straight line, “Unfortunately.”

“You don’t regret it.”

“No.”

“Thank you for not telling the guard what I did.”

“What did I say about repeating it?”

Spencer pressed his chin into his chest, forcing his mouth shut. It naturally deflected the glares that were aimed in his direction from other prisoners as he and Oscar sat down at an empty table.

“It seems I only give you grief.”

But Spencer’s pity was cut short by that touch of a smile on Oscar’s face returning, “Your company somewhat makes up for it.”

The distractions ended. Spencer was once again aware that there was very little he could do in this place. He restrained his yearning to hold Oscar’s hand across the table, to feel his tender palm again, until he was back in his bunk with an entire night to think about what it might be like in a situation where Oscar wasn’t threatening him into silence.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was going to be another sleepless night.

Spencer reached his arm out of his foetal position and over the edge of his bunk. Oscar was likely still awake; Spencer was hoping that Oscar would ask him about what was up, like he usually did. Like he already had after Spencer’s mother had visited with her new care assistant.

As he waited, Spencer sniffed back his tears. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry, even if tears were supposed to be good for the skin – God knows his skin needed it after all that Dial soap. The red eyes were already hard enough to hide without the addition of damp cheeks. Grief weighed down his eyelids, but fear kept opening them – just in case.

Then five calloused fingertips touched the back of his hand. Spencer gripped the air, his wrist bringing his hand an inch in. But as the fingertips spread across his skin, he allowed them to continue. Oscar’s mattress groaned below him and his fingers linked with Spencer’s. The thumb wrapped around to press into Spencer’s palm.

Spencer almost whined when Oscar snatched his hand away, but a split second later his stomach dropped at the sound of a clatter down the hall.

Minutes passed like hours before the bottom bunk let out a familiar creak of Oscar rising from it. He rested his forearms against Spencer’s mattress, right beside Spencer’s outstretched arm. Goosebumps rose and the hairs stood on end, coaxing Oscar closer.

With a quick glance at the bars, Oscar whispered, “Your friends will get you out. They’ll help your mom.”

Spencer sniffed, “What happened to being a dead man?”

“I don’t think you – or your friends - are going to let that happen.”

“What about you?”

“I guess I could fall under ‘ally’ for once.”

“What if I wanted you to be something else?” Spencer’s arm shifted and his hand brushed their knuckles against Oscar’s stubbly cheek.

Oscar hinted at tilting his head against him, and Spencer couldn’t help but press a little firmer as Oscar said, “You should sleep.”

“I can’t.”

Oscar’s finger stretching out to brush the crook of Spencer’s elbow, “Me neither.”

Nevertheless, Oscar let Spencer go and got back down into his bunk just moments later.

Both men pretended to sleep until the fantasy became real. The whole time, Spencer was thinking about how hearing faith in his team from someone who had never met them – or even displayed an ounce of hope within his entire relationship with him – meant so much.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer had a new wall to force his back against. His left leg was not in a state to keep him taut against it, the throbbing ache a poor disturbance from his thoughts. Time, time, all he had was time to think and do nothing else.

About how his occupation in the government was leaked to what felt like the entire prison population.

How the note with the promise of invading solitary confinement lay screwed up by the door.

How Shaw had threatened him before bawling like a baby when the guards tackled him for stabbing Spencer.

How Oscar, with his jaw slack and eyes glassy, was outlined in Spencer’s blurring vision.

Oh, Oscar. Shoved back by inmates in the scuffle before he disappeared from view. He was only there because Shaw had made the first move. Spencer had seen Oscar reach into his pocket as he crept behind Shaw. No regard for his own safety. That was when Spencer grabbed Shaw’s hand and manipulated it into plunging his shiv into his leg and arm.

The night before, Oscar had been quiet, and Spencer figured that he had learnt that Spencer was an FBI agent. No chat before bed, Oscar just curled up under his blanket and read until lights out.

Spencer was patient. He waited long into the night before bringing out his toothbrush. There was no time for resting now; he scrapped the end of the brush against the edge of the bunk frame. Flakes of plastic snowed down onto the concrete floor, but he didn’t get out to sweep them beneath the beds just yet. That was a job for the morning – if it came.

Suddenly Oscar popped into his field of view.

“It’s better if you do it like this,” He said, taking Spencer’s hand in his and demonstrating the direction with which to carve his shiv, “And make sure you – never mind.”

“What?”

“Forget it. You’re a fed. They probably trained you with this shit.”

He took himself away and Spencer swallowed hard, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I’m not. Means you’re learning to protect yourself. I’m more grateful for that.”

Spencer’s hand still tingled from the way Oscar held it. The simplest of touches grounded him, and it was almost as if Oscar knew that. When they were called to lunch by the alarm, filing out of the laundry room, Oscar had gone out of his way to walk by Spencer and brush their hands together. Not a single break in his stride, the touch was brief but it breathed a sigh of courage into Spencer’s lungs and he went into the refectory calmer.

He bit the inside of his cheek, willing away the stinging of tears with his head leaning back against the wall.

His palms flattened against his legs as he heard the key turn in the door. His eyes watched it creak open, revealing a guard

“Get up.”

Wincing, Spencer moved off the pathetic excuse for a bed, “Where am I going?”

No answer.

Spencer shuffled through the hallway with dread weighing each step down. The last fragment of hope was waning, but he clung to it as he was shoved into an empty room. Even as the guard closed the door behind him and his ever-vigilant eye was stuck on the glass of the window, Spencer held that hope close as he waited for someone to come in. While not necessarily a believer, he called to anyone - who might hear a sinner’s prayer - that he could touch Oscar once more before he was killed.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It had been a long time since Spencer had sat on this side of the table. On the job, visiting a suspect or informant in a case, but now his entire perspective had shifted.

He wondered if any of the guards recognised him now that he had a suit, a visitor’s badge, and a few extra pounds around his middle.

An instinct, he flinched at the buzzer. The memory had tormented him for weeks and hearing it fresh and raw against his eardrums was worse. Steps sloped into the room in a dull out-of-sync march. The prisoners found their allotted tables one by one, some with enthusiasm and others without.

Oscar dragged the chair across the floor before taking his place opposite Spencer.

“Hello.”

Spencer was completely torn between smiling at his presence – his voice – and keeping a composure so as not to draw attention from other prisoners. “Hello.”

Oscar wrapped his arms in each other, elbows pointed on the table, “Did you get to hug your mom?”

It was hard to forget the grip on Diana’s frail body, the relief seeping through Spencer’s body at her safe recovery.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good. I’m glad she’s ok.”

“She’s in a facility now, being taken care of full time. Did you get my letters?”

“I did, thank you. And did you get mine?”

“Yes. How is your new cellmate?”

“Some dipshit in for possession. Nothing to worry about.”

Oscar’s fingers tapped on the table, and Spencer could see them trembling still. He nodded; his mouth pressed into a line. He couldn’t think of what else to say despite his many rehearsals beforehand. It felt wrong to talk about being out of prison, like dangling a bit of bacon in front of a dog before popping it into one’s mouth.

So he went straight for the jugular, “I’m getting you out, Oscar.”

Oscar frowned, looking almost offended. “Don’t say that.”

But Spencer continued, “I’ve spoken with your lawyer, Zoe; she’s got all this stuff ready for your appeal.”

“Spencer.”

“Your family completely support what we’re doing. I’ve spoken to them over the phone.”

“They wanna meet with me and your lawyer, properly coordinate. We can do this!”

“Spencer, stop!”

Said person stopped relaying his grand plans for the future. Oscar had barely raised his voice but he caught the attention of the nearby guards, already reaching for their belts. Oscar’s nostrils flared as he exhaled, his eyes not even crossing the threshold that separated him from Spencer.

His voice caught in his throat, “Stop it now. Don’t give me hope.”

Spencer blinked. A second time, a third, then he frowned right back at Oscar bewildered.

“Why won’t you let me fight for you?”

He didn’t get an answer immediately, so he kept talking.

“You fought for me, Oscar. You kept me alive in here. Let me do the same, get you out. You can’t stay here!”

It started subtle. But Spencer saw Oscar shaking his head at his words. He refused Spencer any more eye contact, not even when Spencer begged Oscar to look at him so that they could talk more about the upcoming appeal.

The buzzer sounded again and Spencer began to panic as Oscar rose from his seat. No way was their time up already. An urge to reach across, grab Oscar’s hand, make him stay, shot through him. It only stopped because he didn’t want some desperate grab to be the last touch between them. He tried to call after him, but his voice stuck in his throat at the sight of a baton being used to force Oscar into the queue.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer had walked the paths of the bullpen thrice now: once to get coffee, second to “get the right form”, and the last time he didn’t say why to his curious colleagues. Clearly none of those were the true reason but they left him alone. That was their problem. They never spoke to each other about what was wrong until it was too late.

The second his phone rang, he lunged for it. His slim fingers scrabbled to slide across the answer button and bring it up to his ear.

“Hello!” Instantaneously, his shoulders slumped and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Sorry for shouting. Look, I’m waiting on an important call, can I ring you back?”

Before the caller had time to respond, Spencer slammed the phone face down and began his route again, leaving it on the desk so that he wasn’t constantly checking the screen.

“Have you ever seen him so attached to a piece of technology?” Luke grinned at JJ.

“Never.”

“This con must be something.”

The phone went off again when Spencer was getting another mug of coffee. Its ringtone was loud but not loud enough to reach the break room.

Simmons raised his voice ever so slightly, “Spencer! Phone!”

A ceramic clashed with a sideboard, and Spencer appeared, his hip clipping Luke’s desk on the way over. In his frenzy, he found the wherewithal to check the caller ID before he answered, “Tony?”

Spencer had already begun powerwalking out of the bullpen, but he stopped when he heard a cry from Eliza in the background.

His friends and co-workers watched his expression falter from focus to frustration.

“I’m sorry.” His voice failed him, clearing it, “I’m sorry, Tony, for you and your family. Can I call you back?”

This time, he waited for confirmation and he stayed on the phone for half a minute longer to reassure the Dunnagan family on the other end that he would not give up. Once the call dropped, the phone did too – against the desk. Spencer folded his arms in on himself. His fingers were bent into claws, digging into the creases of his elbows. Upon realising what they were doing, he covered his face as if to weep, but there were no tears.

“Spencer.” JJ touched his shoulder

“The appeal didn’t even have the chance to be unsuccessful,” He dragged his hands across his face into prayer, “Oscar cancelled the hearing this morning without telling us.”

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, “I don’t think I can be alone right now. Can I stay at yours and Will’s tonight?”

“Of course,” JJ’s hand smoothed out a wrinkle on his suit jacket.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Upon entering the attorney’s office, Spencer was embraced by Dakota. Eliza kissed both his cheeks, Tony shook his hand, and Zoe gestured for him to sit in the final empty chair.

Together, they discussed the plan for the appeal. It was to be fool proof. There was the added benefit of a recent sessions with a therapist; Spencer was still willing to go and talk about how Oscar had saved his life in prison. But Spencer was also fighting this disgusting urge to say that “none of that matters because an appeal panel won’t see him at all if Oscar keeps withdrawing”. He kept pushing it down to simmer in his stomach, away from his vocal chords.

He was almost glad when his phone began ringing, “Excuse me, it’s my boss.” Stepping out of the office, Spencer narrowly avoided another lawyer walking along the stripes of the carpet. “Hey Emily.”

“Hey. I know it’s one of your days off. I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”

“We’re just going over Oscar’s appeal.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Wow, he really walked into that one.

“I just keep thinking about how he sabotaged himself. I mean, doesn’t he want to get out? Why doesn’t he want to get out and be with me?!” Spencer swallowed back the lump in his throat, “And I know none of the team approve of him.”

“Spencer,” Emily had her parent voice on. An expert voice for someone who didn’t even have kids yet.

But Spencer just carried on in spite of it, “He’s a convicted batterer, not exactly the best option for a boyfriend and especially for an FBI agent, but do any of you know why he did it?”

His agitation was muzzled when Zoe poked her head around the door and Spencer softened his tone to apologise, to assure he would be back inside shortly. He waited until the door closed before he spoke again.

“Emily, Oscar is the only person who knows what I’m going through right now. He’s a good man, I truly believe that, or else he wouldn’t have helped me. And I need him to get out. I can’t stand knowing he’s in there for why he did what he did. Knowing he’s not getting the help he needs.”

It was then that Spencer realised, even as they were interrupted, that Emily had been waiting patiently for him to finish. She was now letting his words sit between the phone lines, likely mulling over what to say next. Spencer really fucking hated waiting.

Thankfully his patience did not need to wear itself thin, this one time:

“I do know why he did it. I had Garcia pull up his file when you went to visit him for the first time. Spencer, I’m glad this man has you on his side. Let me know how the meeting goes.”

“Thanks, Emily.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

As Oscar placed himself down opposite Spencer, he flinched in the plastic chair. Spencer fought his own wince at the sight of so much swelling, so many bruises, so many cuts, littering his face.

But he gave the tiniest of smiles in spite of the state of his face, “How did you know, Spencer?”

“Your mom told me. She’s a lovely woman.” Spencer flexed his fingers before linking them again, “I wish I had a proper gift to give you, but I was scared the guards would just confiscate it.”

“The card was more than enough.”

A bright blue card with balloons on it was tucked into Oscar’s pillowcase. Inside were as many notes on what he needed to say for the appeal as Spencer could fit around the “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” already printed into the card.

“I forwarded them and the rest onto your lawyer. She should go through it with you.”

Oscar’s smile tainted by hesitation as it crawled off his face, “I don’t know.”

Spencer could see him withdrawing, hiding in his jumpsuit. But even then, Oscar’s expression wore his melancholy like a veil. It blocked out any semblance of neutrality from when he had first met Spencer. The state his protection was in, he wouldn’t last long at all.

“Before prison, I was really sensitive to touch, germs. But now-” Spencer stopped, his voice so quiet he nearly couldn’t hear himself as he finished, “I can’t wait to touch you again.”

Oscar shivered. His eyes screwed shut as if to protect him from what was being said. But Spencer persisted.

“What would you like to do for your birthday? If you could do anything.”

“Picnic in the park,” said Oscar after some thought, “Uh, a real big Cuban sandwich, with roast pork, Swiss cheese, lettuce, pickles, and ham. And chocolate covered strawberries.”

“What, in the sandwich as well?”

“Yes.” Oscar rolled his eyes, misty and threatening to spill, and Spencer felt a rush of panic. More emotion was only good for him. Oscar, left behind in his cell, this could be disastrous. But he couldn’t get enough of it, and he selfishly persevered.

“When you get out, would you let me hold you?” The buzzer went off, but Spencer spoke over it as he stood, “Please, Oscar, consider this appeal.”

“Ok, Spencer.”

From his place at the table, Spencer watched Oscar try to cover his emotions, but there was still a glimmer of a tear retreating as he joined the queue of prisoners heading back to their cells.

Before he stepped out the prison, Spencer slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide how red they were from the guards.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Stood in the shallow shade of Eliza’s range rover, Spencer switched the bouquet of sage flowers from one hand to the other. Dakota had suggested them; she said her brother liked the colour most. Spencer wiped his free hand down his trousers before checking the time. He’d done that four times already. He hoped no one was giving him odd looks from the other side of the fence.

Utter relief was not usually how he would describe hearing that buzzer. But for the first and last time, he did feel a sense of respite knowing he would likely never be coming back here for such a taxing visit.

Then he remembered what that sound actually meant. His back straightened right up; his hand brushed through his hair and checked his breath once more.

Tony led the way out of the prison. He was clearly trying to remain casual but the glee seeping out of his body was just palpable. He had an arm around Dakota, kissing his daughter’s head so vigorously that her half-up hair was messed up. Clearly Dakota didn’t care though. Her hand was behind her and she turned to see the person holding it.

It was Oscar, arm looped with Eliza who clung to him like a crutch. Their eyes matched each other, shining brown like horse chestnuts.

Spencer found that he could no longer look away from Oscar. A breeze rustled through his hair. His face was alive with tear tracks and a grin that ached on his rosy cheeks. An old suit, one clearly meant for court and court alone, slouched on his shoulders. But for that short moment where he breathed fresh air and leaned his head on his mother’s, there was no weight to him.

Then Oscar found Spencer, fidgeting with his tie and his grip slacking on the bouquet, and all the emotion he had repressed for five years in prison custody were exploding into a supernova.

Oscar forgot Eliza’s arm, dashing around his family to run for Spencer. Spencer found himself matching the pace and the destination. His feet carried him quick until he and Oscar collided. A fierce hug crushed them. Oscar’s hand was constantly adjusting its grip on the back of Spencer’s head, and Spencer’s free one fisted at Oscar’s suit jacket, trying to bury themselves in his ribcage. Neither missed Oscar’s shaking, his sobbing. Spencer curled into Oscar, wrestling with his instinct to pull away. Lindsey and Cat, they ruined so much for him already; they couldn’t take Oscar too.

When they heard the footsteps of the Dunnagan family stop nearby, the men drew apart – only about a foot or so. Oscar’s cheeks were wet behind his wide smile and Spencer saw that one of his front two teeth was a little crooked.

Spencer then presented his gift in the small space between them, “For you.”

Oscar gently clasped the bouquet on the white ribbon that wrapped around the stalks, “No one’s got me flowers before.”

Spencer then vowed to buy flowers as often as he could for Oscar, and especially sage. He looked so good with purple.

The ride to Danny’s Food Truck had Oscar sat in the little middle seat, his sister on one side, Spencer on the other, and he held both their hands. His bouquet was cradled in his lap. The wet ends of the stalks dripped twice onto his suit trousers, just before his bouncing knee.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Once again, Spencer had lost himself in his work. When he was interrupted just an hour before, Oscar was there. He had waved a hand into Spencer’s peripherals but Spencer still jumped at it. He hated that his skittish behaviour was still prevalent, returning just as Oscar had started appearing in his personal life. In his apartment.

“Sorry, Spencer,” Oscar had said in a gravelly voice, “I just wanted to ask if you were ok with Randy’s for dinner tonight.”

It was two hours before they were due to have dinner.

“Of course, it’s your turn.”

“How’s the work going?”

“It’s good,” and Spencer showed him the notes he’d written so far.

Oscar had taken them into his hands and read over them. Meanwhile Spencer watched his micro expressions. The huff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth wriggling about as if to smile before flattening themselves out, all seemed positive as Oscar offered the papers back.

“Nice joke!”

“Right, joke…” Spencer accepted his notes back, “Where?”

“There,” Oscar leant over Spencer’s shoulder and tapped the second line of the first paragraph. Spencer noted that he smelt nice. So much better now the Dial soap was out of their care routine.

And it was now that Spencer found himself missing that smell. It was a nice distraction. Burying himself in his work was not a good distraction anymore.

He stood away from his desk and took his mug out to the kitchen sink. Despite trying not to look at the pieces of a vase half-wrapped in newspaper, Oscar’s wailing at the very start of their day together punctured its way into Spencer’s head. One particular thought posited that Spencer should keep one of those jagged pieces – just in case. Just in case of what?

Shaking his head, Spencer went and found the source of his chills: his living room windows were wide open, the curtains lifting gracefully in the breeze. Rain pattered against the world outside, some of its drops reaching the carpet. The smell of the rain was light in the room. It was almost drowned out by the sound.

He found Oscar passed out on the couch, his bare feet poking out from under the throw. His head was resting between his folded arms, one hand under the pillow. His headphones askew and playing “The Flower Garden (Extended Version)” by Joe Hisaishi.

Kneeling next to Oscar, Spencer touched his arm, “Do you want me to order for you?”

Oscar nodded, stretched out, then promptly fell back asleep. He would have trouble later tonight. But Spencer was glad that he finally found some respite. His seemingly endless apologies for breaking the bowl were over.

That was where the good news ended though. Spencer looked closer at Oscar’s hand, now unmasked. A medium piece from the broken vase rested in his loose grip. After some moments deliberating, Spencer eased it out and placed it with the rest of the vase. Then he went to his phone and dialled.

“Hey JJ. I hope it’s not too late, but,” Spencer tapped his nails against the plastic handset, “Would you mind coming over? Oscar is here, but I don’t know if he’s ready to help me through this.”

He smiled at the flowers he’d bought that day standing awkwardly in a jug before hanging up. He and Oscar really should move in together. Or at least he should invest in a sofa bed.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the front door, and Oscar was up on his feet. The sofa’s throw clung to him.

“I invited someone over,” Spencer said quickly, “Sorry I should have told you, but I didn’t want to wake you again. Do you want to wait in my room?”

Oscar stayed in place and shook his head, so Spencer went ahead to open his front door.

Two days apart was far too long. JJ embraced Spencer tight, rubbing his back as she rested her chin on his shoulder. She gave the best hugs. Maybe rivalled by Oscar, but Spencer would never tell her that.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“A coffee would be great,” JJ shrugged off her jacket

He pivoted in a half circle, “Oscar?”

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

Spencer wasn’t really sure what happened in his absence – besides his stomach turning itself over and over. When he returned with two mugs, the only information he could garner was that Oscar had dropped the throw back onto the sofa that stood between them and JJ had inched a little closer

“Here!”

Oscar twitched at Spencer’s loud entrance, visibly relaxing by the time JJ had her mug of coffee in her hands. He adjusted the throw until it was back to its original position then crept towards the door.

Spencer frowned, ruining the quiet exit as he said, “Where are you going?”

Oscar thumbed in his direction of travel. “Bathroom.”

“Oh,” Spencer felt his cheeks heat up, “Good luck.”

He saw Oscar rolling his eyes but there was a flash of a grin and a tiny wave to JJ before he disappeared from view. Spencer’s stomach steadied itself, busying itself with sloshing his coffee about instead. His grip around his mug adjusted as he turned to JJ.

“He’s not what I was expecting,” JJ said. There was nothing malicious in her tone. In fact, if there was anything, she seemed pleased that Oscar had subverted her anticipations.

Spencer nodded, his mouth turning up a little smile, “That’s what I thought too. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“It’s ok, anytime.”

They sat together on the sofa, leaving the armchair free just in case Oscar wanted to join them again.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Moving in together was supposed to solve everything.

Neither Spencer nor Oscar explicitly said or thought that. But when their triggers persisted and their behaviour shifted dramatically still, they couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.

Spencer had another nightmare last night and woke Oscar up at around half past three. They couldn’t cuddle each other, but their hands would brush and the two men would avoid looking at the matching scars on their thighs – and Oscar’s on his stomach, Spencer’s on his arm.

“Would you have killed Shaw, if I hadn’t done anything?”

“Yes.” “Does that scare you?”

In the dark, he could hear the fear in Oscar’s voice

“No, because I think I would have done the same.”

Carried on as if he hadn’t heard, still scared of himself, “I wouldn’t do something like that now.”

Oscar spent the rest of the night on the couch, so he wouldn’t touch Spencer in his sleep. Words of his therapist spun around his head: “Prison twists and warps people until they’re worse than they were before. We can’t speak now for what we would have done then.”

It was a quiet day as a result of the restless night. Quiet was nice sometimes; it was something new for them to experience together. Spencer and Oscar had breakfast together, washed and dressed, before they went down to the communal laundrette together. Washing and drying clothes was too big a task to do alone, even now, and Oscar needed his shirt to be clean for his job interview in a few days. The nightmare Spencer had faded into the background as he tried to focus on something else.

Without realising, he said aloud to Oscar, “I wanted to kiss you in the laundry room.”

Oscar stopped stretching his damp pyjama shirt out, and it was clear that he had joined Spencer in reminiscing about their job in prison.

“Which time?”

“Every time.”

Spencer watched as Oscar let out a quiet “heh”, a shy smile playing on his lips. But Oscar cut it off quick before either of them could enjoy it, and he reset his expression to blank. The silence that followed swallowed them both whole.

“Oscar,” Spencer moved next to Oscar and, in clear view, touched him on the arm, “It’s ok. You can laugh.”

“I know.”

“You can smile if you want to,”

“I can smile,” Oscar repeated, his words grounding him next to Spencer, his hands flattened atop the dryer as it rumbled into life. His lungs took in a few more breaths to spread a thin layer of calm over him and he looked back at Spencer, “I can also kiss you if I want to, if you want.”

Checking the laundrette door, Spencer’s hand moved from Oscar’s arm to Oscar’s cheek, guiding him home. Their lips met in messy perfection. Short and sweet, with a sigh shared between them, Spencer was pleased to see the smile returned to Oscar by the time they separated. As tense as Oscar felt in his arms, even with the smile soon fading, Spencer could feel the tiniest slack in his shoulders now.

With the most burdensome chore out of the way, the two men returned to the flat. Spencer helped Oscar compose another covering letter to ship off to another job opening before they called Oscar’s family for lunch.

Facetiming was always a trip when they were calling the Dunnagans. Tony had a similar understanding of “technology” as Spencer, so when he answered the call, it was a close up of a nostril or a frowning muted face that greeted Oscar and Spencer on the laptop screen. Eventually Eliza saved them from an eternal farce. She brought them into her kitchen, bringing Dakota and her partner Ellis in on the call when it was time to prep for lunch.

Dakota led the way with a recipe from her restaurant, “If any of you dare share this with anyone, I’ll knock you out.”

Her laugh only sang one note before she slapped her hand over it and looked down at her screen with a face full of guilt. Oscar laughed it off, maybe a little forced, then he swiped at the nearest conversation topic – the world’s hottest pepper.

“Maybe you could stick in in your next recipe. Do a competition where if you eat all the spicy stuff, you get your name on the wall and get half off or something.”

And the call continued for a little longer.

Spencer was just testing out the new spices acquired in their online shop – because according to Dakota there was nothing is worse than being able to actually taste the chicken – when the screen froze. A tiny widget popped up to inform the men that the signal was too poor to continue the call.

Oscar wiggled the mouse, “Oh, God, your connection’s gone again. You mind if I try and find us a better provider?”

“Go for it.”

They clinked their wine glasses together, sipping with questionable responses to it. Oscar dared another sip while Spencer was satisfied with just the one, deciding instead to check on the chicken.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

Oscar placed his wine down. “Are we boyfriends?”

In all their time together, Spencer realised they never once spoke about their relationship status. They just sort of… moved in together, shared a bed, held hands and kissed occasionally – without discussing what was going on.

He said with relative boldness, “I’d like to be.”

“I’d like to be too,” Oscar bit his lip, the smile distorting but still charming as ever. His arms swayed a little. “Can I hug you please?”

With a renewed sense of vigour, Spencer said, “Yes please.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer’s mind needed a rest; perhaps returning to the geographic profile after some time apart would garner a new connection. This case was driving everyone nuts, not just him, and it was only the third day in. he plucked his mug and headed over to the coffee pot for a top-up.

Whilst pouring his third cup of the morning, Spencer took note of his phone’s weight in his trouser pocket. He decided to lessen it, his hand reaching in and dialling for Oscar.

The call clicked after three rings then a boisterous laugh erupted from the speaker.

“Sorry, Spencer! This little one keeps jumping up at me! She barely reaches my knees!” Oscar’s voice was playful. Little claws clicked on a hard floor followed by a tiny yet indignant yip that was echoed by several much deeper barks. Spencer assumed this little one was a ring leader at the dog kennel, the one Oscar was trying to sweet talk.

“That’s ok. You sound like you’re having a good time.”

“It’s brilliant! They let me take four dogs out on a walk at a time!”

The ache in Spencer’s left shoulder from sleeping in an odd position alleviated just a touch. “Yeah?”

“I think I might try to get my licence back, so I can maybe drive them out to the countryside.”

“That’s brilliant news.”

“How’s the case?”

“I’m just taking a break.” Spencer sipped his coffee, burning the back of his throat. As he flinched, he caught sight of Luke’s hand, waving him back over to the conference room. “Sorry, Oscar, I have to get back to the profile.”

“I really like how you say ‘Oscar’.”

“I’m just saying your name.”

“I know,” and Spencer could very clearly hear Oscar’s smile in his voice – even over the constant din from the dogs he was caring for.

“I like how you say my name. See you later?”

“Hopefully. Take care of yourself.”

What a delight to see Oscar, after a rush of evidence flooding in and the pieces slotting together in a now-obvious profile. That evening in fact, Spencer made it back to his apartment at the same time as Oscar. He was carrying a plastic bag to mirror Spencer’s satchel. He didn’t feel like cooking and knew that Spencer wouldn’t be in the mood either; it was a few microwaved meals from the local store in his bag.

They ate dinner in the sitting room on trays - as a treat – and they partook in a very one-sided conversation about Star Trek. Oscar didn’t seem to mind, and honestly Spencer liked the freedom that came with talking here. It was like a hint of who he was before was bleeding through. Every so often though, Oscar would remind him that his food was going to get cold. Spencer would take a moment to eat before the next interesting factoid was inspired from the episode on the TV.

At the start of the next episode, his plate empty, Spencer noticed that Oscar’s gaze was a little restless as he finished his dinner.

“Is something bothering you?” He asked, adjusting his position on the sofa.

Oscar shrugged as he put his cushioned lap tray onto the carpet, “Not bothering me. I’m just curious about something.”

Naturally, Spencer said, “Ask me.” Maybe it was the difference between Vulcans and Romulans again.

“When you stabbed yourself while looking at me, before you got out, was that a substitution for sex?”

Spencer blinked several times. He could feel pinstripes forming on his forehead. He cleared his throat, took a sip of his water, cleared his throat again.

“No, no. I… um.”

Then he stopped because he realised he didn’t quite have an answer yet. His mind was busy straying back to that moment: the flare of pain in his leg and arm, the roaring of inmates around his head, and Oscar - an island of frozen calm amidst the chaos of Spencer’s actions. Eventually, Spencer found a semblance of a reply and he delivered it.

“I was just looking around, and I found you. I think I was looking for comfort.”

Seemingly accepting of this, Oscar’s attention moved back to the TV. His hands occupied themselves with each other. However, Spencer was not quite ready to let the subject go; he’d been thinking about this a lot lately.

“I’m sorry we haven’t…”

Oscar picked up what he was putting down, “Don’t be sorry, Spencer. Don’t ever, ever be sorry for that. I didn’t ask to guilt you. It was in the lesson you taught last week. I listened to it on my break today.”

The image of his Dictaphone on the desk at college - and another of it hanging out of Oscar’s rucksack’s front pocket – recalled itself in Spencer’s head.

“I probably could have asked you a bit nicer,” Oscar altered his position on the couch to bring his knees up to his chest.

“Probably.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“Could you tell me more about the Romulans please?”

As Spencer restarted his speech, albeit with less enthusiasm than before, Oscar brought out his notepad from his backpack. His fingers pinched around the blue crayon as he scrawled Spencer’s facts, putting the differences into a roughly drawn table.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Seeing Oscar standing in the bullpen with a visitor’s badge was not what Spencer expected to see today. He certainly didn’t expect to see him sipping tea with Penelope and chatting away at Spencer’s empty desk. Oscar had clearly just arrived, still bundled up in his coat. The flowers Oscar had sent to the office that morning stood gorgeously arranged beside his oft-neglected computer desktop.

“Hi!” Spencer power-walked up to them, almost reaching a jog. Oscar met him halfway, but his pace decreased the closer he got to Spencer. It was the sound of the team drawing through the glass double doors that told Spencer what was going through his head.

He turned to his family, already gesturing behind him where Oscar stood, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Oscar.”

Waving, Oscar had his other hand stuck deep in his pocket as he spoke, “Penelope gave me the rundown of your names. Nice to meet you.”

The team was rather tired from the case and obviously a little caught off guard by the fact that the felon Spencer had fallen for was just hanging around in their bullpen. But Spencer was relieved when they all greeted Oscar with a fairly warm manner, wished Spencer "happy birthday" again, before they shuffled off to their respective desks and offices. Penelope bid her farewell to Oscar with the promise of a movie night some time in the future. Then she hugged her Boy Wonder and returned to her batcave.

“Sorry,” Oscar said quietly, “I wanted to travel home with you. Kinda forgot that I would be running into your whole team.”

“I don’t mind. In fact, I wanted you to meet them.”

Spencer’s hand stayed in Oscar’s for the entire walk back to Oscar’s new car in the lot. While they parted momentarily en route, they found each other again when Oscar had to pull over during the drive home. The car that had swerved and cut in front of them became two red lights in the far distance, the sound of its engine and screeching tires muted by Oscar’s heavy breathing.

Oscar released the steering wheel and clung to Spencer’s hand, but Spencer could feel that Oscar was holding back, trying not to crush his fingers. He rubbed over Oscar’s knuckles.

“In, two, three, four,” Spencer counted, “Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

He repeated this five times and Oscar leant back in his seat.

“I was doing so well,” He said, his voice cracking in its quietness.

“You still are. We both are.” Spencer kissed the back of Oscar’s hand, “Come on, I’ll drive us the rest of the way.”

Two blocks later and they were about to enter their apartment.

Oscar stopped them though, just before Spencer’s key met the lock, “Could you wait out here? Just for a minute, please?”

Spencer complied, a countdown in his head clicking off the seconds as soon as his front door was closed to him. A smile crept onto his face as he heard Oscar clattering about the apartment. He wasn’t exactly being subtle; Spencer wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once Spencer was finally allowed in, he was greeted by a low-lit scene. Oscar was holding a match to the last candle at the table. He’d taken off his long coat to revealing a freshly ironed floral pattern. The stereo speakers were already humming Mozart. The crumpled takeaway paper bag by the pedal bin didn’t go unnoticed, but Spencer decided to focus instead on how the food was arranged on the plates - either side of a delightful floral arrangement.

“Oh Oscar, you already got me so much this morning,” Spencer said sheepishly, with the knowledge that he had avoided looking up the prices of his gifts so he could calculate just how much of Oscar’s third paycheque went into his birthday.

“I know, but I wanted your birthday to be perfect,” Oscar opened up one of the tubs, a wave of steam lifting gently with the lid, “It’s from the new Thai place down the road.”

Spencer hung up his satchel on his its hook, “I suppose I have been wanting to try their green curry for a while now.”

Once he had changed into something more comfortable (plus a hint of smartness), Spencer sat down with Oscar for dinner. Both men found that he was not immune to the romanticism of a candlelit dinner with his boyfriend, and Spencer more so. The effort behind it, the aroma of the lavender candle with the spiced food, the glow around his Oscar’s face as he went over the day behind them, it was all getting to him.

Of course, Oscar offered to clean up once they were done eating and talking – for now at least. Spencer still helped though. Any time with Oscar was time well spent. Even loading the dishwasher. Except now Oscar was staring at Spencer’s face, gaze fidgeting between his eyes and his mouth, and Spencer was worrying about it.

Christ, what was he meant to do to let Oscar know he wanted to kiss him without saying so? Pout?

“Are you ok?” Oscar’s brow creased.

Fuck.

“Yes,” Spencer said, quickly removing the pout from his lips, “I’m good.”

“Good.” Oscar swung their linked hands between them thrice. Then he let go of one to thumb across the corner of Spencer’s jaw and he closed the gap between them. Spencer felt Oscar’s recently applied lip balm on his chapped lips, those stupid lips that Spencer spent too much time thinking about. They felt so much better against Spencer’s and smiling with reckless abandon. So reckless, in fact, that the smile grew into a laugh, buzzing against Spencer and tickling him more than his facial hair.

Oscar pulled away, still giggling and apologising, “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

“I know you’re not. You’d never laugh at me.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

A chorus of “hello!” harmonised in the doorway as the Dunnagans’ entered Spencer and Oscar’s apartment. Laden with gifts and food offerings, Tony, Eliza, and Dakota kissed and hugged their way into the sitting room.

Oscar and Dakota were the ones in charge, everyone else on some kind of prep duty while they ordered them about in the politest manner. Spencer was trying to be a good prep boy but Eliza was just better and faster, so he stuck to cleaning as they went. Oscar kissed his cheek while passing by; Tony had hung up a sprig of mistletoe just over their heads. Ducking away to avoid kissing his potential father-in-law, Spencer chased the sound of his phone ringing. He even ducked under it as if lowering his torso would avoid the mistletoe above him.

All five swayed ever so slightly out of sync as they bellowed the classics and groaned over the pop renditions. Spencer’s new watch hugged his wrist and ticked away each pleasant second.

“No, don’t hide your hair!” Eliza ripped off the Santa hat Spencer’s head and pulled up flattened tufts of his hair until it resumed its usual messy state.

“There! Never get a haircut, you’re too handsome for that.” She patted his cheek before taking another swig of her red wine – the same shade as her Christmas jumper and Spencer’s cheeks. Spencer looked to Oscar, not to protest but to see if he had Oscar witnessed this.

Oscar merely shrugged, “I mean she’s not wrong.” He finished off peeling the sprouts, handing them over to Tony for chopping, “I have to admit, it was one of the things that drew me to you when we met.”

“Really?”

Another nod in response, Oscar drew nearer, closing the conversation to everyone but Spencer, “You and your Bambi eyes and your hair and your perfect mouth.”

Spencer suddenly found himself unable to look directly at Oscar, as if he were the sun. An outsider looking in might infer that it was the gaudy red of his horrendous Christmas jumper that made his cheeks seem so pink. They would be wrong.

Spencer burst out, “It was Rossi on the phone. He wants to know if you’re still coming tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m not backing out. If I start to, I need you behind me and pushing me through the door.” Oscar’s shoulders twitched with his laugh.

“I don’t know, feels like you could toss me over your shoulder if you wanted.”

“I could. Technically.”

Spencer’s cheeks went scarlet at the thought of Oscar carrying him down Rossi’s driveway in such a way. But before he could ask Oscar to slow the flow of compliments, Dakota called to them across the room: “Aw, Oscar, you’ve got your own stocking?”

“Yeah, Spencer bought it for me, early gift!” It hung proudly on the bookshelf beside Spencer’s.

The table had already been set for the family. Dakota brought her own crackers, informing them that the snap had been removed. Terrible paper crown and horrendous jokes were passed around the five people before they dished up their Christmas dinner. Comically small in his hands, Oscar cradled the box of the primary coloured crayons in his palm and frisbeed the ruler with the shapes cut out over to Eliza.

The pigs in blankets were a little burnt, the nut roast barely touched, and there was so much left over that they would be eating ham and turkey sandwiches for days to come.

Spencer was so full of food and joy that it would be impossible to be carried on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He settled instead for being held in Oscar’s lap as they squished into the armchair, the rest of the family on the couch to watch the garbage Christmas specials. Dozing on his shoulder with a close-lipped smile, Oscar looked content. His yellow paper crown was crushed near the front, slipping down his left temple.

Oh, Spencer was grateful for his dedicated memory. He could match and topple all those memories of them in prison with times like these forever – and he planned on doing just that.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x oc #my writing #r: male #wc: 10k+

93 notes · View notes

jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Feels Like Falling in Love

Mark X Reader

Genre: Cheesy fluff

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: You are assigned to a science project with Mark and over the course of working on your project together, you end up falling for the soft spoken introvert and little do you know, he’s falling for you too.

A/n: (He has such pretty fingers wtf) Anyways, I’ve been wanting to write a story about nerdy Mark for a while now and I got the idea from my science fair in the 8th grade idk just the thought of Mark being a soft spoken and shy “nerd” is the most adorable thing ever ugh I miss Mark

“Alright class, for your next upcoming project, you and a partner; which I have already pre-assigned will choose a scientific research topic to work on for your last assignment before spring break. This project is work a huge percent of your grade so I want you all to put as much hard work and dedication in to this specific assignment as you’ve done for the last few months of this semester. Once I announce whose going to be working with you, you will spend the rest of class coming up with ideas and brainstorming with your partner. This is a three week long project and although I’m giving you quite a generous amount of time to work on this project, I expect nothing but grade A products. Okay, let’s start.”

Your teacher began to call out the names and as you looked around the room, you soon grew nervous at the idea of working alongside someone who would be no help whatsoever during this entire project. There was nothing more you hated as a senior in high school than group projects. It seemed as if all of your classmates were well aware of how smart and hard working you were and how much time and effort you put in to every single assignment you had. In the past, you’ve found yourself getting taken advantage of because of how kind and selfless you could be and sometimes you’d end up doing the entire project by yourself.

One thing you wished you could change about yourself was how much of a pushover you could be. Being the social butterfly you were, you made friends with practically everybody and anybody. Everyone knew they could depend on you for whatever it was they needed help with and they knew you would never say no. Unfortunately, it was never in your nature to ever tell someone no. The last time you told someone you couldn’t do something for them, you felt guilty the entire day and ended up going along with whatever it was that they asked of you.

Soon everyone was being paired up and the only people that were left was your two best friends BamBam and Jackson, and one of the smartest people in your entire grade; Mark Tuan. Mark, in more or less words, was considerably the biggest nerd there could ever be. He knew the answer to any question someone had related to education. If you needed a calculus problem solved, the answer to who discovered North America or the summary of “The Great Gatsby”, Mark was your guy. He was known to be quite the introvert and had very little friends.

You’d find him with his face buried in a book or playing video games on his Nintendo switch. Even during class, he never seemed to pay any mind to anyone and only spoke up in class whenever your teacher would call on him. As much as you loved your friends, you were secretly hoping your teacher paired you up with Mark. You were sure she was aware of the two class clown’s reputations and how they were both borderline failing. Knowing that information, you couldn’t help but feel as if she would give you one of them instead of the quiet boy in attempts to help both Jackson and BamBam with their grades. If they put as much time and dedication in to their studies as they did with sports and house parties, then maybe they wouldn’t be on probation from graduating.

“For the final four, I’ve thought about this for a long time and although I know I’m making a mistake for obvious reasons, y/n, you’re going to be partners with Mark and Jackson, you’re partnering up with BamBam.” You let out a sigh of relief and had to stifle back a laugh when you heard Jackson begin to whine at your teacher’s decision.

“But Mrs.Young, I cant be partners with BamBam—you might as well give me an F now—ow! I’m just telling the truth! It’s obvious our dumbasses aren’t capable of getting anything done.” Jackson and BamBam began to bicker but your teacher was quick in getting them to stop talking and went over some important information that would help you all with the project. Once she was done explaining what she expected of the class, she sent you to get in to your groups with the intent of having you and your partner get started on your planning.

As you started to reach for your things in order to make your way towards Mark, he just so happened to take the seat next to you and quietly placed his things down. “I—um—hi y/n.” You gave him a soft smile before pulling out your notebook.

“Hi Mark. So, do you have any ideas on how you want to find out whose mouths are dirtier; Dogs or humans?” He nodded in agreement before handing over notes you assumed he must’ve wrote down as your teacher gave out the topics. You knew Mark was incredibly intelligent; the teachers never failed to rave about how quick he’d solve answers and how he always turned in assignments the day they were assigned. Seeing his notes and all of his ideas made your head spin. There was no way you’d come up with any of these ideas and you were extremely grateful that your teacher put you and Mark together.

“Wow—these proposals are amazing. How did you come up with these in less than five minutes?” He shrugged before looking around the classroom and sneakily taking out his phone when he noticed your teacher was busy talking to another group.

“I just typed the question in to google. But I’ve actually done research on this topic in the past. I have a dog named Milo—he tends to lick me a lot and I was curious as to how dirty his mouth is—sorry. Too much information.” You shook your head to let him know it was okay. Although this was the first time you’ve ever interacted with Mark, you were pretty sure with the reputation he kept up as the teacher’s pet and “the most reliable geek in school” that this was probably one of the longest conversations he’s had with anybody and you couldn’t help but feel a little excited at the thought of him being comfortable with you.

“No no—that’s really cool. I’d be interested too if I had any pets. I mean, they drink toilet water and eat their own poop, I’m sure their mouths are extremely dirty. Imagine waking up to them licking all over your face only to find out they were sniffing another dog’s butthole.” When you heard the soft giggle fall from his lips, you felt embarrassed at how you had no filter. You tended to talk a little too much about the most unnecessary things sometimes and you were sure you got that from Jackson. If you were having this conversation with one of your friends, you wouldn’t have felt as weird but seeing as how you and Mark hardly knew each other, you didn’t want his first impression of you being a bad one.

“Sorry, now I’m the one giving out too much information. This all sounds really good by the way. Did you want to start scheduling when you wanted to meet up to work on the project?” He took out his planner and began flipping through the pages to this week and looked over the days. Seeing him use a planner made you happy for some odd reason. It was probably because you knew there was a possibility Mark was probably the only student who put the school’s planner to good use. Jackson lost his on the second day of school but he never used any of the past planners any way.

“I’m free after school tomorrow if that’s good with you. Maybe we can use my dog as the experiment and then we can both test ourselves and compare the two? Would you mind coming over to my place?” You smiled and nodded in agreement and you began to feel something weird in your stomach as you started to think about spending time with Mark. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. Even if he wore big, circular glasses and his wardrobe consisted mainly of khaki shorts and polos, he was extremely good looking and you were sure that if he were to join a sport rather than the math and robotics team, then maybe he’d embrace his looks just a bit more. But at the same time, there was something you liked about how he presented himself to everyone. He was quiet, shy and a very introverted person; however it made him well—him.

You were sure he was content with the way he went about with things and nobody ever seemed to bother him in a negative way which you were grateful for. You never knew why, but although you didn’t know Mark personally, over the course of having him in this class, you couldn’t help but observe him every now and then and you’ve slowly grown fond of his quiet and gentle personality. You’ve also become very protective over him and whenever BamBam or Jackson would make jokes about what a nerd he was, you’d find yourself defending him.

Once class was over, you and Mark exchanged numbers and planned to walk over to his house as soon as school was over. You couldn’t help but be excited to spend time with Mark. He seemed to be one of the only people you had yet to build a friendship with and you could only hope that he would want to become friends with you. For all you knew, Mark could be the type of person that was all work and no play whenever it came to his education and you were sure that was the reason for his good grades and the dozens of scholarships he received back in your junior year.

When you began walking towards your locker, you weren’t able to even turn the dial once before you were joined by tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum and they both had the biggest frowns on their faces. Deep down, you knew exactly why they were coming to you and no matter how many occasions you’d find yourself giving in to them, this time was different. Not only did you want a good grade on this project and a partner you could depend on, but this was your only chance of becoming closer with Mark and you would shave your head bald before letting either of them get in the way of your desired objective. Before Jackson could open his mouth, you were already shaking your head in disagreement; earning yourself whines from the both of them.

“No. My answer is no.” Jackson crossed in arms in frustration as BamBam decided to take things another direction. As soon as you felt him wrap his arms around you, you quickly pulled yourself from out of his embrace and gave him a knowing look.

“Y/n, you don’t even know what we’re asking for—“

“You want me to ask Mrs.Young to switch our partners. I’m not stupid. I knew this was going to happen as soon as she announced the pairings. My answer is no and there’s nothing either of you can do about it. I’m going to tell you both now, your puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work on me this time. Mark and I already planned out our project and instead of trying to get me to change my mind, which; is already set by the way, you two should start brainstorming on how you can stop bread from molding.”

The three of you have been friends for over ten years, so you knew the many tricks they had up their sleeve and you had a feeling they would do whatever they could in their power to get you to rethink your decision. As much as you wanted to be able to help them in any way that you could, they were high school seniors who needed to be responsible for themselves. You were their best friend, not their mother and you weren’t going to sacrifice your grade and having a partner who’d actually do his share just to make your friends happy.

The next day, your mind was too busy with thoughts of Mark and working on your project that you didn’t pay much attention in any of your classes. You’ve seen him in class every single day and you’ve known the soft spoken boy since middle school, why were you so flustered at having to work with him? If it were anyone else, you’d have such an easy time to interact with them. But something about Mark made you shy and you could only hope you wouldn’t embarrass yourself during your study session. When the last period came around, you walked in to class and saw that Mark was sitting in the seat next to yours. You gave him a small smile and found yourself warming up when he returned one back.

“Hey, I actually started working on the assignment last night. Our topic is actually very interesting and I couldn’t help the aspiring biology major inside of me. I took some DNA samples from Milo after we came back from a walk but I wanted to save all the fun stuff for later. You’re not allergic to dogs are you?” You shook your head in disagreement and felt a smile growing on your face the more he went in to detail about his enthusiasm. If you already thought Mark was just by his quiet and extremely polite nature, hearing how passionate he was about science; a subject almost everyone in your grade seemed to hate made your heart flutter.

The two of you haven’t even started working on the project just yet. How were you going to control yourself around him for the next couple of weeks? Throughout the lesson, Jackson and BamBam attempted to send melancholic looks your way as their final attempt to get you to switch partners with one of them, but you were too interested in what Mark had to say to pay any attention to either of them. You had a hard time understanding how someone could make different types of bacteria in dog and human saliva sound so cute. Once class was finally over, you and Mark began making your way over to his house.

Luckily, he didn’t live all too far away from school because you felt like the walk would be extremely awkward and quiet. Sure, you were known to be outgoing and sometimes outspoken to the point where someone had to tell you to quiet down. But things were different with Mark. He made you feel flustered and intimidated just by his presence alone.

“Can I be honest with you?” You looked up at him and nodded while motioning for him to continue his question. “I’m glad we’re partners. I uh—I was hoping Mrs.Young was going to pair us up together. I know we hardly know each other, but you’re the only other student in the class who genuinely seems interested in learning. You’re always giving her your attention unlike everyone else who seems to either fall asleep or go on their phones. I look forward to working with you y/n. I know I’m not the most outgoing or talkative person ever, but if it’ll make you feel more comfortable I’ll try my best in communicating with you.”

Hearing that he was willing to go out of his comfort zone to make sure you felt comfortable sent warmth to your cheeks. You also couldn’t stop replaying what he said about observing you in class in your mind. For someone who didn’t seem to interact with anyone other than teachers and his friends, he seemed to have an easy time talking with you and you could only hope he felt like he could be himself around you.

To your surprise, Mark was quite the conversationalist. He began talking about so many things and asked you questions that he claimed he was curious about. You would’ve never thought that Mark played both basketball and baseball in middle school nor did he seem like the type who enjoyed baking but he promised you his chocolate chip cookies were to die for and that he’d make you some once the two of you made it to his house. After almost twenty minutes of walking which literally seemed like five minutes with how much fun you were having learning different things about the handsome boy, the two of you reached his house and like the gentleman he claimed to be, he opened the door and allowed you to walk in first.

“Please don’t mind the mess, my sister visits with her daughters every now and then and I think my mom mentioned something about them coming over today. Plus Milo has his toys scattered all around, but make yourself at home. I’ll get us something to eat and then we can head upstairs to my room—I mean, if you’re okay with that. If not, we can work down here.” Seeing him scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment made you giggle softly to yourself. It was a habit of his that you noticed he’d do every time he felt bashful or nervous. It was cute. He was cute and you were quickly finding more and more things about him that you liked the longer you stayed with him.

“Mark sweetie is that you—oh hello! I’m Mark’s mom. You must be y/n. You’re right Mark, she’s extremely beautiful—I mean—you know what I think your dad needs me in the garden. It was nice meeting you dear! Don’t hesitate to ask me if you need anything.” You turned your attention towards the ground, trying your best not to make it obvious that her words made you feel as if your heart was about to jump out of your chest. It was one thing for his mother to compliment you, but to hear her agree with Mark on how beautiful he told her you were made you feel giddy inside. He thought you were beautiful? You wondered what else he must’ve told his mom but you decided to keep it to yourself because you knew with the way she practically bolted out of the kitchen that she wasn’t supposed to say that. Although, you were extremely happy that she did.

“Uh, please don’t mind her. You know parents—they can be quite embarrassing sometimes. Can I get you something to drink? We have orange juice, lemonade, water, Pepsi—“

“I’m fine with water. Thank you.” He reached in to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water and some sandwiches before making his way to the cabinet and grabbing some chips.

“Follow me.” The two of you made your way up the stairs and a smile began rising on your face at the sight of all his family photos. You didn’t know that he had three other siblings and it made you snicker at how much they all looked alike. Good looks obviously ran in their family. When Mark didn’t feel you following after him, he took a look to where you were and his eyes practically jumped out of his head when he saw you looking at photos of him when he was younger.

“Oh God y/n—stop—don’t look at those they’re so embarrassing. Why didn’t I think to cover them up?” He briskly walked over to you and absentmindedly grabbed at your wrist gently and pulled you behind him in the direction of his room. You were thankful he wasn’t looking at you because you were sure your cheeks were as pink as they were warm at the skin ship. His touch was soft and it was quite feather like for someone who was trying to pry you away from childhood mementos.

As the two of you entered his room, you were quick to notice just how much his room matched him. Although you had so much to learn about Mark, the multiple anime figurines on his desk along with a couple of action movies on his wall, his PlayStation, Xbox and a mini globe on his night stand emulated exactly what you’d picture his room to look like. His room was quite tidy for a guy; there was no where you could sit in Jackson’s room and you were sure there had to be a rat living somewhere in BamBam’s with the way you couldn’t even see the ground. He pulled out the chair from his desk and motioned for you to take a seat as he walked right back outside. Mark gave you no time to ask where he was going before he reentered the room with whom you assumed to be Milo.

“Here is our test subject. Say hi Milo.” He placed Milo down on the ground and the little pup immediately made his way towards you.

“He’s so fluffy and extremely adorable. Mind if I pick him up?” He shook his head and you allowed Milo to jump on to your lap before running your fingers through his hair. You were so in to playing with Milo, that you didn’t realize the look of admiration on Mark’s face as he watched you play with his dog. A toothy grin rose on his face watching you squeeze and play around with Milo and it made him feel warm inside. This was the longest he ever went spending time with a girl. Being the introverted person that he was, it was already hard for him to interact with other students. What more with girls? Especially girls he found very pretty with a bright and bubbly personality.

If someone were to tell Mark that he would be in his room with the girl he’s had a crush on since freshman year, he would’ve laughed in their face but here he was; watching you holding and leaving soft kisses on his puppy while sitting at his computer desk. He had to be dreaming. The two of you came from different worlds; Mark hid himself in his books and spent most of his time in the library whereas you were constantly joining all these different clubs and befriending almost everyone on campus. He never thought he stood a chance with you; let alone being your friend. Watching you from afar in class, helping your friends and practically anyone in the class you had a hard time understanding the material on top of being the only optimistic student in a bunch of pessimists is what got Mark to develop a little crush on you.

He felt like it was stupid; how could he gain feelings for someone he hasn’t even talked to once in his four years of knowing them. But he didn’t have to know you personally to know how much of an amazing person you were. It was all he ever heard about from teachers, your fellow classmates and even some of your friends. You were the school’s social butterfly. Everyone who knew you wanted to be your friend and naturally gravitated towards you. It didn’t help that he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and the fact that you had an equally beautiful heart made things even harder for him.

“You have call of duty black ops 4? Where’d you get it? It’s been sold out everywhere for months!” Seeing you so excited over something he was also heavily interested in brought him joy. You were so adorable. “My uncle’s friend is actually a video game artist, so he got a few copies and gave me one. Did you maybe want to play once we finish—or we could play a little bit now and work on the project later. We have a few weeks to work on it so we should be fine.”

Deep down you knew that you should’ve been starting on your project, it was the reason why you were currently at Mark’s house in the first place but you couldn’t help the fact that you’ve been dying to get your hands on the new installment of your favorite video game and like he said, you both had plenty of time to work on it. You didn’t mean to pout at the idea of waiting till later to play and you found it weird how natural it felt being around Mark, but you liked it and you could get used to it. He handed you the controller and you navigated through the game like a natural.

To say Mark was in shock at how good you were was an understatement. Most girls Mark knew would never go near a game console let alone play such a difficult game with such ease. At one point, you were doing way better than he was and he found himself smiling like an idiot at your eagerness to kill all the bad guys. For the next few hours, the two of you took turns playing while snacking on the sandwiches and chips he brought up for you both. He even sneaked away to the kitchen to get you some of the cookies he mentioned earlier and your reaction was the most adorable thing Mark has ever seen. Your cheeks were puffy and you had a mouth full of cookies, but that didn’t stop you from telling him how delicious they were.

The two of you were so focused on playing that you didn’t realize exactly what time it was until Mark’s mom knocked on his door and asked you if you were staying for dinner. Not wanting to intrude on his family, nor were you mentally prepared to meet all of them just yet, you politely declined and thanked her for her hospitality before calling your dad to come pick you up. While waiting for your parents to arrive, you and Mark continued your conversation from where you left off earlier before giving all your attention to his xbox.

Listening to Mark talk about things that most people would consider boring felt like a breath of fresh air. He had to be one of the only people if not the only person you knew who preferred listening to classical music than to what was playing on most radio stations. In the few hours you got to spend with him, you decided that Mark Tuan was one of your favorite people and you couldn’t wait to learn more about him and bond with him for the next couple of weeks. When your mom let you know that they had just arrived, you said your goodbyes to the Tuan family and thanked Mark for being such a great host. As soon as you got in the car, the huge smile on your face caught your mom’s attention and she was quick to ask the question that’s been eating at her the minute she saw Mark walking you over to your car and saying hello to both of your parents.

“He’s cute! And quite the gentleman. You like him don’t you?” Your eyes widened in shock at her revelation but your mom knew you better than anyone else. You didn’t need to say it out loud, your facial expression as he held the door open for you and walked you over to your car spoke for you.

You were falling for Mark.

Over the next few weeks, you and Mark were practically attached by the hip. After the first time he sat next to you in class, he never returned back to his actual spot and continued sitting next to you even if most of your classmates sat in their regular assigned seats. Then as soon as school was over, you’d head over to either his house, your house, the library or the coffee shop just a few minutes away from school. Most of your time together was spent working on your project, but there were a few moments where the two of you would take a break to eat, play some video games, watch a movie or just talk.

Even during lunch, instead of hanging out with your usual group, you found yourself sitting with Mark and they didn’t seem to mind it. A few of your friends knew of your crush on Mark and in fact, it was your friend Jinyoung who suggested that you go and sit with Mark in order to “get to know your science partner better.” Once BamBam and Jackson caught wind of the feelings you’ve developed for Mark, they did not let you hear the end of it.

“So this is why you were so adamant on not switching partners. You have a thing for Markie boy. I don’t blame you, he has the brains and he’s actually pretty good looking if I do say so myself. From what I hear from some of my teammates, apparently he has a big dick—what? That’s what I heard—well anyways, I think you should act on your feelings. Mark doesn’t seem like the type to tell someone he likes them so you’re going to continue wasting your time ogling over him if you don’t make a move—don’t look at me like that y/n it’s 2020 anything is possible. Equality for all.”

As much as you hated whenever your friends would get involved in your relationships, Jackson had a point. Even if you and Mark have grown close in the last two weeks, he didn’t seem like the type of guy to confess his feelings for someone. Hell, you had a feeling you were the only girl he ever talked to which you were extremely grateful for. Mark seemed to be a very private person who enjoyed being mysterious and preferred to be to himself a lot; so you were honored to be one of the only people he genuinely seemed to trust. You’d like to consider you and Mark friends at this point and you’ve noticed in the last few days that he’s been more touchier and flirtatious than usual.

You didn’t think Mark; the so called “nerdy and irritatingly intelligent gamer” was capable of such smooth pickup lines until he used one about you being made of copper and tellurium because you are “Cu-Te” and it might’ve been a scientific joke to him but it really set your bones on fire. Since there were only a few days left until your project was due, you decided that you’d tell Mark how you feel no matter what the outcome was. You both were practically finished with the project and spent most of your days having fun together rather than working. So if things went to shit, then you could pretend as if nothing happened and go about your life like how it was before this science project.

Although, the idea of no longer having Mark in your life sent an unsettling sensation to your stomach. The two of you were currently at his house watching a movie and he had explained to you that both his parents and his brother were away at one of Joey’s taekwando tournaments leaving you and Mark all alone with Milo. The thought of actually being all alone with Mark both worried you and delighted you. As much as you enjoyed being around his family, it would be much easier to tell him how you felt about him without people around. When Mark first offered to put on a movie, you had to laugh when you noticed just how far he sat away from you on the couch.

You knew he was trying to be a gentleman and that he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you found yourselves on a few occasions practically cuddling up on his bed. While the movie played, you’d absentmindedly look at Mark every now and then mentally tracing his handsome features and wanting nothing more than to kiss his pretty pink heart shaped lips. The longer you analyzed his face, the more you began to find things that you never realized before like the cute little mole right above his lip or the scar right above his eyebrow. You also couldn’t help but imagine what he would look like without his glasses and soon you found yourself wanting to know if he ever went without them.

“Hey Mark?” You could tell by the way his eyes were practically glued to the television that he was very interested in the movie so you felt bad for interrupting him, but he paused it in order to give you his full attention and nonverbally motioned for you to go on.

“Have you ever thought about getting contacts?” He looked at you in curiosity and actually thought about the question for a few moments before shaking his head.

“My optometrist asked me a couple of times but I always decline. I know you’ll probably think I’m a wimp for saying this but I have a fear of not knowing how to put them on and accidentally poking my eye out so I just stay safe and go with glasses. How come?” You shrugged nonchalantly although your heart rate began to increase at the thought of your next words.

“You have really pretty eyes. I guess I just want to see them better but your comfort is the most important thing.” You began to pick at your fingers and Mark was glad your attention was elsewhere or else you would’ve seen just how crazy you’ve been driving him in the last few weeks having to do all these things with you and not getting to kiss you, hold you and do all these cute, romantic things that most couples did because all Mark wanted at the end of the day was to be the lucky guy who you called yours.

“Oh—I—I’m—um—thank you. Maybe I’ll take contacts in to consideration just for you.” You let out a light chuckle and shook your head in disagreement.

“No no, you’re totally fine. You look good with or without glasses. Please don’t feel like you’d have to do anything because of me—“

“I’d do anything for you y/n. Anything you’d ask me to do I’d do it in a heartbeat. Oh and you—you have a really pretty face and a really pretty personality. Hell, everything about you is really pretty—ah shit. That was weird wasn’t it? Please forget I said anything.” He began to reach for the controller as a way to distract you and to get you to forget what he just said but there was no way you could ever forget hearing him say that everything about you is pretty. Right as he was about to resume, you reached at his hand, took the controller and turned off the movie. He looked at you with the most adorable look of confusion and you decided it was now or never.

“Mark.”

“Hmmm?”

“Can I kiss you?” The cough that fell from his lips was unexpected and you took that as a negative sign. You wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole. When was breaking out in to a fit of coughs ever a good sign after asking someone if you could kiss them? You hid your face in your hands and tried your best not to look at him in fear of crying because you ruined everything.

“You know what? Please forget I said anything I must be going insane it’s the lack of sleep and—“ he playfully covered your mouth in attempts to stop you from talking so that he could explain himself.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to kiss you. Trust me, I really, really want to kiss you. I’ve been thinking about kissing these pretty lips of yours for longer than I’d like to admit okay—and I hope by hearing that confession you now know that I like you. I like you a lot y/n. I’ve liked you since freshman year and I’ve always felt so dumb because we didn’t know each other back then but I knew enough to want to be someone special in your life. I—I’ve never kissed anyone before. Pathetic right? A high school senior who has never been kissed. I’m a fucking loser and I’m afraid of messing things up—“ the minute Mark felt your lips smash against his, his heart melted in to a puddle.

You reached for his hands and brought them down to your waist as you wrapped yours around his neck, pulling him closer in order to deepen the kiss. He was still in shock for the first few seconds and you knew he was still hesitant on continuing the kiss because he had no clue what he was doing, but after a few moments, his lips melded perfectly with yours. His lips were soft and tasted like butter from the popcorn and you couldn’t help but giggle at how rough and clumsy his kisses grew the longer the two of you made out but it didn’t matter.

It was special and you knew there would be many kisses shared between the two of you later on and he had plenty of time to work on his kissing skills; although for a first timer, he was actually really good and you knew you were going to get addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours. When you needed to catch your breath, you pulled away earning yourself a soft whine and placed your forehead against his.

“Wow—I uh—that was—you were—wow. Can we—can I kiss you again?” You snickered at his excitement and nodded; not being able to say no since you wanted it too. He cupped your cheek in his palm and reconnected your lips together. To your surprise and delight, he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip and brought it in between his teeth before shoving his tongue down your throat. You were shocked to say the least at what a natural he was, especially since kissing wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

“Are you sure this was your first time? I don’t think anyone whose never been kissed before knows how to French kiss. You’re a cheeky one aren’t you Tuan? I like you too by the way.” His laughter filled the room before he pulled you on to his lap and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

“Date me. Please?” Now it was your turn to laugh. God, how could someone be this cute yet kiss like he’s been doing it for years? What else was he hiding from you? When you quickly nodded and stole a kiss from the corner of his mouth, he released a content sigh and tightened his grip on your waist before turning the movie back on.

“Wait—babe, humans have more bacteria in their saliva than dogs do. Ew!!! If this is what kissing entails than I better keep some mouthwash on hand because I plan on kissing you a lot.”

“Way to ruin the mood Tuan.”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan got7 #mark tuan imagines #got7 fluff

91 notes · View notes