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mycurrent-hyperfixation · 2 years ago

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Take A Chance On Me - Chapter Seven (Eddie Munson x Reader Series)

Series Summary: Corroded Coffin is lacking only one thing that could help them win the upcoming Battle of the Bands; original songs. So when a new band comes to town with a lead singer that looks all too familiar and a repertoire of original songs up their sleeves, Dustin concocts a plan that will get you to spill all of your songwriting secrets to Eddie. It’s just a few dates, right?

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Masterlist

Word Count: 8.3K

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, 10 Things I Hate About You AU

A/N: I honestly think this chapter might be my favourite one so far so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it. The ridiculous word length has returned, but there really was just no way I could cut this chapter in two. I'm the kind of reader who loves a short chapter in a book, but I'm afraid I will become an author who has ridiculously lengthed chapters 😫. Also, I'm expecting all the chapters from here on out to be on the longer side just so you all know. I'm trying real hard to fit this fic in the 10 chapters I limited myself to, but we shall see if that goal eventuates or not. Also, I haven't given a name to readers band cause I was too lazy to think of a good one and now I'm severely regretting that decision cause I'm finding it harder and harder to dodge around it. As always, you guys are amazing and I love each and every one of you!!!

The shift had been busy, so uncharacteristically busy that you were struggling to upkeep a smiling disposition with the variety of customers that were seemingly becoming ruder as the day went on. The store was a mess, most of the records strewn haphazardly across the racks so what was usually organised into clear genre categories was now intermingled amongst each other.

When the final customer had been served and the line in front of the counter finally cleared, you let out a tired and weary sigh, allowing yourself a moment to revel in the silence that surrounded you. Bringing your hands up to your face, you lazily rubbed at your eyes, trying to ease their stinging. With a slight groan you pushed yourself away from the counter and begun the laborious task of cleaning up.

When the bell above the door chimed just as you had been about to make your way over to lock it, you couldn’t quite help the small groan of annoyance that left your lips. Composing yourself, you forced a smile onto your features and turned around to greet the customer.

“Hello. How can I help you tod-”

Your smile became genuine at the sight of Eddie Munson standing by the door.

“Oh, I’m not here to buy anything,” Eddie said. “I’ve actually come here to see one of the workers. Maybe you know her. She’s super pretty but is kind of mean to me.”

“Hmmm,” you pretended to think. “No, sorry, I don’t know anyone by that description.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Eddie responded, making his way slowly over to you. His eyes were captivating as they stared directly into yours, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve come to pick her up for a date.”

Your smile faltered slightly.

“Eddie, I didn’t bring anything to change in to and it was just so busy today so I’m sure I look like a mess and I-”

Eddie stepped closer to you.

“You look beautiful.”

But the collected demeanour that Eddie was still somehow managing to upkeep was a lie. Because he had thought that his spontaneity would be charming. He had thought that you would laugh at the fact that he had sprung the date upon you without any forewarning; after all, your response to his proposition had been less than straightforward itself. So as he looked upon you with your wearied expression, your posture slightly drooping and the bags under your eyes more prominent than usual, he wanted nothing more than to kick himself the utter stupidity of his idea.

But now he was so very close to you, his lips practically inches from yours so that his breaths became ragged and his heart began to race as all coherent thoughts seemed to leave him all at once. In that moment he so wanted to lean just that extra bit forwards, to close the distance that still sat between you and capture your lips within his own. But Eddie wanted to do things properly—to do things perfectly—for you, even though he had likely already screwed up a date that was yet to begin. So he forced himself to pull away, noticing the vibrant blush that coated your features as he did so and smiling softly to himself at the sight of it.

“Fine,” you relented. “But next time I want proper warning before we go anywhere.”

Eddie let out a sigh.

Next time.

“I’ve just got to finish packing up,” you continued. “Just give me one sec.”

Eddie waited for you by the door, casually leaning up against the wall as he watched you. And even though your hair was slightly messy and even though the weariness was clear within your eyes and even though you were still dressed in your work clothes—a simple black t-shirt that was slightly too big for you paired with black jeans—Eddie still found himself practically incapable of looking away from you.

“Okay, we’re good to go,” you called from the counter, your bag clutched within your hands as you began to flick the light switches off.

Eddie held the door open for you as you exited, waiting as you locked the door before making your way into the carpark. It was empty save for your own vehicle and Eddie’s van, the sight of both of them sitting side by side making your brows furrow slightly.

“Oh, should I leave my car here? Or should I just meet you...wherever it is we’re going.”

“No, I’ll drive,” Eddie hastily responded, chastising himself for not having thought of the issue beforehand. He should just call it all off, he thought, pretend like he was just joking about the date so that he could start afresh on another day. “I can drop you back home as well or...back here or wherever you want.”

You smiled at Eddie’s flustered state. “Okay.”

When you rounded the side of Eddie’s van you startled slightly as Eddie rushed forwards, grabbing the handle of the door before you had a chance to and swiftly opening it. The action was oddly touching as he gestured for you to hop inside.

“So where are we going?” you asked after you and Eddie were both situated inside the van.

“Well I thought we could maybe...get some milkshakes. And I rented a few movies so we could go back to mine and watch one if you’d like.” Eddie hadn’t realised how suggestive the words sounded until they fell from his mouth and lingered awkwardly in the air between you. “O-or we could just stick with the milkshakes. Or none of it if you don’t want.”

It sounded underwhelming now that Eddie said it out loud and he wished that he could have taken you to a fancy restaurant or a fancy bar or to anywhere that was slightly more highbrow than an old diner at the edge of town. He looked away from you, slightly embarrassed and half expecting you to simply get right back out of the car and leave. He wouldn’t blame you if you did.

“Ugh, you read my mind!” 

Eddie’s head whipped back up to look at you, wholeheartedly surprised to find you smiling widely.

“I was craving a milkshake all shift.”

A wide smile broke out onto Eddie’s face, his confidence somewhat renewed as he turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the carpark. The drive was quiet, a mixtape that Eddie had made playing softly through the speakers. And although it was quiet, it was nice to simply revel in each other’s company, the windows rolled down so that Eddie found himself sneaking glances towards you as the wind drifted through your hair.

The diner was deserted when you arrived, and Eddie couldn’t quite tell whether that fact made him nervous or relieved. The waitress was different to the one that had greeted you so warmly the other day, but she smiled widely and offered you a small wave nonetheless as she looked up to the chime of the bell above the door.

Eddie followed behind you as you took a seat within the same booth the two of you had sat at last time. The leather of the seat squeaked beneath him as he shuffled in opposite you, a wide smile spread across your lips as you eagerly looked down at the menu. Eddie couldn’t quite help himself from admiring you as you did so; the way your hair fell slightly in front of your face, the way you were so unperturbed by the fact that he had taken you to a diner for your first date.

When he heard the faint rumble of your stomach, he couldn’t stop the snicker that left his lips in time, your cheeks instantly reddening.

“I...um,” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time to eat lunch so-”

“Get whatever you want,” he responded softly, hoping that you knew that the smile he wore upon his lips was one of adoration.

Before you had time to respond the waitress had appeared at the end of the table, an expectant smile upon her features as she held a pen and pad before her.

“Can I get you guys anything?” she asked cheerily.

Eddie noticed the way you whipped your head back down to the menu, frantically scanning each item and their description.

“I’ll get a triple chocolate fudge milkshake and...” Eddie paused, pretending to peruse the menu to try and give you more time to decide. “And a cheeseburger, please.”

The waitress’s pen began moving across the pad.

“I’ll get...um...the...um,” you hesitated. “Actually, I’ll just get a cheeseburger as well, please.”

The waitress nodded, smiled, and then left.

“No milkshake?” Eddie asked.

“I thought you said last time that we would share.”

A wide smile broke out onto Eddie’s lips at your remembering of such a fleeting statement. It caused something warm to erupt within him, something that had his smile somehow growing and something that had him wishing that he had taken the seat beside you instead, if only he could sit just a little bit closer to you.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget?”

The two of you shared a smile.

“So how’s your song writing for the competition coming along?” you asked.

Eddie was starting not to like how the conversation always seemed to shift back to the competition whenever he talked with you. It made him feel like that was the only thing that the two of you shared in common. It made him feel like he wasn’t getting to know you as much as he so wanted to. But most of all, it made him feel like absolute shit for the sole reason that it would remind him of that stupid conversation he had had with his bandmates on that rainy night in his trailer.

“I’ve got a few songs in the works, but nothing that’s finished,” was all Eddie said, racking his brain for ways to change the subject.

“You should show me when we go back to yours to watch the movie. Maybe I could help.”

Eddie didn’t quite know what to say.

Because he had altogether forgotten that he had invited you over; that you would be in his trailer with him watching a movie that he already knew he wouldn’t be able to pay attention to. Because the thought of you perched lazily upon his couch, maybe a popcorn bowl sat on your lap, had now invaded his mind and was seemingly determined to stay there. Because the thought of you reading over the lyrics he had written and critiquing it had his palms sweating and his heart beginning to race. Because, mostly, the thought of you sitting down and helping him finish the lyrics he had begun would solidify the scheme.

Up until that point the tips you had given him had always been in passing. And whilst he had committed all of them to memory to implement into his songs later, it was almost as if, now that you had actually offered to properly help him, his betrayal was all the more real.

He was going to tell you, he decided. Tell you everything from the very beginning and just hope that you didn’t hate his guts afterwards. That was what you deserved, the truth, even if it was going to ruin whatever it was that had been blossoming between the two of you.

But then when he looked upon you, altogether realising that he had been silent for too long and the air between you was growing awkward, the words would not form within his mouth. This was so very nice, you being there with him, and Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to ruin that.

“Okay,” he eventually managed to get out, hating himself a little bit more as he did so.  

He could tell that you had picked up on his change in demeanour; your head titled to the side, your brows slightly furrowed. But then the waitress was back, holding the cheeseburgers and the milkshake, and Eddie found himself letting out a small sigh of relief as your attention instead turned to the food that was placed before you.

A wide smile broke out onto Eddie’s lips at the sheer excitement that engulfed your features as you hastily shoved a chip into your mouth. You moaned at the taste, the sound heavenly to Eddie’s ears as his smile only continued to grow.

The two of you ate in silence, Eddie only picking at his food, the knot that had begun to form in his stomach making it tough to swallow much. You ate your burger in its entirety, practically licking the plate clean until it was just the milkshake that sat between you. Neither of you had touched it, the two straws sticking up from its centre somehow taunting you. In the end, the both of you leaned forwards at the same moment to take a sip, meeting in the middle as you each grabbed a straw. It was mesmerising, being this close to you now as Eddie found his gaze captivated within your own. You offered him a shy smile as you both took a sip, your faces only inches apart.

When Eddie pulled away it was with hesitation, already yearning to smell your perfume once more. He leaned back into his seat, trying to act nonchalant when his racing heart and raging blush said otherwise.

“So what films did you rent for us to pick from?” you enquired, leaning forwards to take another sip from the milkshake.

“Well the first one I got was Top Gun,” Eddie said.

“They have that on tape already? I swear I only just saw that at the movies.”

“What did you think about it? Like it enough to watch it again?”

“Nah it wasn’t my favourite.”

Eddie, who had been halfway through taking a sip of the milkshake, nearly spat it out in disgust.

“What was wrong with it?” There was more aggression in his voice than he had been expecting causing a wide smile to spread across your features as you stifled a laugh.

“What was the actual plot of that movie?” you questioned.

“I-it’s about the value of friendship and of one man’s valiant battle in winning respect among his superiors and-”

“No but if you look at the actual break down of the plot most of it makes no real sense. In the beginning Maverick is this cocky pilot who doesn’t listen to orders and always gets in trouble. Even when he gets into TOPGUN he still doesn’t listen to his superiors and fucks up a bunch because of it. And then when Goose dies it’s the most pivotal moment in the movie and when I watched it I thought ‘this is where Maverick is really going to change as a protagonist’. But Goose dying is in no way Maverick’s fault so there’s no lesson to learn from his death which basically makes Goose’s death pointless in the scheme of the movie and-”

Eddie smiled as he watched you ramble. He liked this, he realised, talking about pointless shit with you; even if your opinion was so wholeheartedly wrong. It felt easy and comfortable and altogether quite homely in a way he had not felt in some time.

“I cannot sit here and listen to you smear Goose’s name through the mud,” Eddie said, dramatically shuffling out of the booth before coming to stand at the end of it. You looked up at him, something close to surprise covering your features as Eddie leaned down, grabbed your hand within his and began pulling you out of the seat.

“I’m going to make you rewatch it and I shall enlighten you as to why it is a fantastic movie.”

A laugh erupted from your throat as you came to stand before Eddie, and for just a moment Eddie found himself incapable of looking at anything else. He could listen to your laugh for eternity, he thought, and he was quite certain he would never get bored of hearing it. Walking down to the counter, Eddie couldn’t quite help but smile at the fact that you had not pulled your hand away from his, your fingers still entwined. So he was very much taken aback to find that after he had left a few notes upon the counter to cover the cost of your meals, your touch had suddenly vanished.

“No no no,” you said as you remained by the counter, rifling through your bag until you procured your purse. “I’ll pay for my half.”

“Ah, no you won’t,” Eddie said, trying to grasp your hand once more to pull you out of the diner. You evaded his grip as you fished around for some money, the waitress having begun to make her way over to the both of you.

“Yes, I will. You said we were going for milkshakes and I had a whole burger so I’ll pay for-”

“Oh my god, is that Freddie Mercury?!” Eddie suddenly exclaimed, gasping as he pointed out of one of the window.

Eddie knew that the turning of your head was purely from instinct rather than anything else. He also knew that his window of opportunity in which you were distracted was altogether quite fleeting. So without thinking he bent down, wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted, rushing as quickly as he could towards the door with you now held securely against his chest.

“Eddie!” you screamed, the wide smile evident in your voice as laughter escaped from your throat.

“Quickly, we’ll miss him!” Eddie exclaimed, ignoring you as you beat down half-heartedly on his grip around your waist.

It was only once he had successfully gotten you outside that he finally put you down, laughter erupting from both of you as the sound filled the empty carpark. You clenched your hand into a fist and swung up to hit Eddie on the shoulder, unable to hide your smile as he dramatically threw himself backwards in an act of pain.

“You’re such a dufus,” you said between breaths.

You were close now, closer than either of you realised as your breathing began to return to a normal pace. The silence of the carpark was deafening now as you continued to stare up at Eddie and as he continued to stare back.

“Well I’m a dufus who wants to treat his girl right.”

His girl.

Those two words had your breath hitching in your throat and your heart racing and your palms beginning to sweat. Those two words had you itching to reach up and pull Eddie’s lips down to yours and simultaneously wanting to turn right around and sprint away in the opposite direction.

Those two words scared the hell out of you, but in the best way possible.

“Now we’ve got a movie to watch, and I have an opinion to change,” Eddie continued, his form leaving your side as he made his way over to the van and promptly opened the passenger door for you.

With a smile, you took his proffered hand and climbed inside.

His girl.

---

Eddie’s trailer was almost exactly like how you had pictured it to be; slightly messy, slightly chaotic and entirely homely.

And whilst there was the slight smell of weed that lingered within the air and whilst there were still rings of condensation on the coffee table and a precariously stacked pile of dishes in the sink, it was still obviously clear that Eddie had cleaned before your arrival. Cushions and pillows were placed carefully in the corners of the couch and there was the scent of Febreze mingling in with the weed. The thought brought a soft smile to your features.

Although the trailer was Eddie’s home he seemed remarkably out of place as the two of you entered, his hands flying from the pockets of his jeans to the roots of his hair before they came to rest crossed upon his chest. It was clear that he was watching you as you watched the room, and so you turned back towards him and offered him a smile that you hoped would clear the awkwardness that had begun to grow around you.

“I’ve got some popcorn if you wanted me to cook that before we put the movie on,” Eddie said, his voice slightly wobbly. He cleared his throat, trying against all hope to compose himself, not altogether too sure as to why the sight of you within his home made him so nervous in the first place.

“Okay,” you said. “But I thought you were going to show me that song.”

Eddie stilled.

He had so wished that you would forget about it; that he could get through this date without any more mention of the competition or song writing so that maybe he could pretend that this date was a date and nothing more. That there had never been any ulterior motive for wanting to spend time with you. But from the expectant look upon your face, Eddie knew that he could not avoid the topic without the transition in conversation seeming unnatural.  

“Y-yeah, of course,” Eddie said, his voice slightly softer than he had intended.

With each step that Eddie took towards his room and with each step that you followed, something began twisting in the pit of his stomach. Eddie was not one to get nervous very often, but now, having you in his home eagerly awaiting to read something he had written, it was as if he couldn’t quite get his nervous system under control. Eddie had never done cocaine—had, in truth, never done anything harder than ketamine—but he was quite sure that what he was feeling in that moment must feel similar.

But then there was you, strolling quite happily down his hallway, completely unaware to the wreck that Eddie was slowly becoming in front of you. He wanted to stop, he wanted to turn around and he wanted to lead you towards the tv and put on a stupid movie. He wanted to maybe drape a blanket over the both of you and he wanted to pretend to yawn as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and he wanted to entwine his fingers in yours if you would let him.

But then he was swinging his door open and leading you inside to where he had thankfully had the foresight to at least make his bed even though he had not expected you to ever venture this far into his trailer. You were smiling softly up at him as he turned around to face you, still just as excited and just as expectant to see his work as you had been back at the diner.

“I like how you’ve hung up your guitar,” you said absentmindedly, walking further into the room to inspect where it was hanging upon the wall. And although Eddie was perfectly well aware that you knew your way around a guitar, although he was quite positive that you would treat his guitar with as much care as you did with yours, he still couldn’t quite help himself as he leaned over you and plucked the instrument off the wall before your outstretched hand could touch it. The action happened so quickly that at first Eddie’s shocked expression mirrored your own. He thought for just a moment that he had offended you, that you would turn right back around and leave his trailer without another word. But then you were leaning your head back, a laugh escaping from your throat.

Eddie breathed out a sigh.

“Someone’s touchy,” you teased, reaching out with your index finger to try and lay it just once upon the guitar. Eddie, a wide smile now upturning his lips, pulled it away once more.

“I can never be too careful around the competition.”

“You’re putting some ideas in my head now, Munson.”

Eddie let out a slight chuckle as he threw himself backwards upon his bed, strumming lazily upon the strings of his guitar. His eyes flickered over to you as you wandered about his room, lazily glancing over every surface until your eyes became transfixed upon his shelves.

“You’ve got quite the collection here,” you said with a whistle as you flicked through the multitude of records that sat stacked upon the shelf. “Why do you have two of the same album?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot upwards as you pulled out one of his two copies of Master of Puppets, desperately trying to rack his brain for any kind of explanation. The truth would sound too stalkerish, he was quite sure.

“Oh, wait, this one’s scratched.”

Eddie shot upwards.

“You scratched my record?” he exclaimed.

“No! It was scratched when I picked it up.”

“I cannot believe you scratched my record.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself once more, but upon turning to look at Eddie, you found his lips upturned in a taunting smile. With a roll of your eyes, you turned your head away in an attempt to hide your own smile, placing the record back upon the shelf before returning to your perusal. Eddie’s gaze returned back to his guitar, his fingers plucking the strings absentmindedly.

“Do you have anything that’s not metal?”

“Why would I need anything that’s not metal?” Eddie asked back.

“For some variety. Do you not get bored listening to this stuff all the tim–oh my god.”

Eddie whipped his head up to look at you as a shocked gasp fell from your lips, his eyes scanning your figure hurriedly in search of whatever had pained you. But instead, you simply turned back around to face him slowly.

“I knew it,” you said. Eddie furrowed his brows. “I knew you were hiding something from me.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide.

You knew the truth.

Although how you had come across it he wasn’t altogether too sure, for he was quite positive that there was nothing within the shelves of his records that would have led you back to the plan. Eddie’s heart began to race now, his hands sweating as he gripped his guitar so tightly his knuckles began to go white. He needed to provide you with an explanation, he knew, or at least an apology. But suddenly his mouth had gone completely dry, and he was quite positive that if he attempted to speak nothing would come out.

But then your lips were upturning into a wide smile and Eddie could do nothing other than continue to stare back at you, now thoroughly confused.

“You’re a Neil Diamond fan,” you said, procuring a record from his shelf.

Eddie let out a sigh and had to refrain from bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes, all the tension and stress leaving his body all at once. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything as you turned your attention back to his shelf.

“Oh my god!” you said again. “Billy Joel too?”

At the sight of your sheer excitement, Eddie couldn’t quite stop the small smile that returned to his lips.

“They’re my uncles,” Eddie said.

“And yet they’re in your room.”

“I promise you I have never once listened to those records.”

“Well then your missing out because your uncle has got some good taste.”

You returned the Neil Diamond record back to the shelf and pulled the Billy Joel one from its casing, practically skipping over to Eddie’s record player before placing the record gently down onto the turntable.

“No,” Eddie said, jumping up from the bed and following you. “If we’re listening to music it’s not going to be Billy Joel.”

But a song had already begun playing and your hips had already begun swaying and so Eddie found himself quite incapable of following through with his intentions, too transfixed by the sight of you dancing within his bedroom. The song was slow, one that Eddie was unfamiliar with although that came as no surprise. But then, as the vocals began, Eddie found his breath hitching in his throat at the sound of your voice filling the room too.

“Don't go changing to try and please me

You never let me down before, mmm

Don't imagine you're too familiar

And I don't see you anymore.”

Seemingly as if it were moving of its own volition, Eddie watched as his hand came up to outstretch before him, reaching to grasp your hand within his own. He half expected you to pull away, but you didn’t as you allowed him to slot his fingers in between yours. You turned to face him, a soft smile directed up at him, before Eddie pulled you gently into him. The action was slow as the both of you began to sway to the music, something thick and palpable growing in the air between you.

You were close now, so very close that Eddie couldn’t quite seem to stop his gaze from flickering down to your lips. It would be so easy to just lean forwards, he thought, for the space between you now was practically non-existent. But he didn’t, too busy revelling in the sight of you like this before him. So the two of you continued to sway as Billy Joel continued to sing, and when you shifted your head to lay upon Eddie’s chest, never stopping in your motions, Eddie thought it likely that his heart might explode. He closed his eyes, not quite believing that this was all real.

But then the song was coming to an end and your warmth was suddenly leaving him as you pulled away. He opened his eyes and followed you as you walked over and perched yourself upon the bed.

“So let’s here this song you’re struggling with.”

Eddie thought he must have done something wrong. But then there was the sight of your familiar smile being directed right at him and he felt the anxiety in his chest ease slightly.

Eddie thought about lying; maybe saying that he had forgotten the lyrics or that it was more a single chord progression than an actual song. But then he turned to look down towards you—a soft smile curving your lips, your hair falling slightly in front of your face—and he found the lies dying upon his lips. So instead he reluctantly made his way over to his chest of drawers to where a series of stray pieces of paper were scattered haphazardly across the surface. Old receipts, napkins, torn off pages of books had all been vandalised in his messy handwriting. He had thought about cleaning the space before your arrival, but the space was an organised mess that worked quite well in collating Eddie’s song ideas and so he hadn’t been able to bring himself to move anything around.

He rifled through the papers before his hand came to rest upon an old school quiz, lyrics written lazily within the margins. It wasn’t anywhere near how neat Eddie imagined your notebook to be, and so found himself growing quite embarrassed as he eventually handed the paper over to you before reclaiming his place upon the bed once more and laid down.

In an attempt to fixate his gaze anywhere but on you as you read, Eddie fixated his eyes upon the ceiling as he brought his guitar up once more and began strumming at the strings.

“This is really good, Eddie.”

The sincerity in your voice warmed him.

“Can you play it for me?”

Eddie stilled.

He had played so many concerts in front of so many people and had barely batted an eye. But now, here, in front of you, Eddie couldn’t quite fathom plucking the strings of his guitar and singing into the empty air that sat between you. His hands began to sweat, his grip upon his guitar tightening as his breathing grew ragged. But then as he turned to look at you with your kind eyes and your gentle smile and your calming presence, Eddie felt his nerves melt away, his fingers dancing across the strings seemingly of their own volition until he was playing the opening notes of the song.

“Eighteen, crazy

Pulled up in your daddy’s car

You wanna move in with me

Guess we’re off to a heavy start.”

As Eddie played—his back laying against the mattress of his bed, his guitar perched across his stomach, his gaze fixated anywhere but on you—he felt you shuffle slightly from where you had been sitting upon the edge of the bed. You grew closer now as you mimicked Eddie’s positioning and laid down next to him, the mattress dipping slightly. Eddie kept his gaze upon the ceiling, knowing that if he turned to look at you he would not be able to look away. But his attempts were in vain as the shadow of your smile became visible in his peripheral vision and he found his head turning towards you anyway.

“So if you wanna piss off your parents

Date me to scare them

Show them you’re all grown up.”

Eddie found himself quite thankful that he had gotten no further in writing the chorus for he was quite sure that if he had continued to sing as his gaze landed upon you his voice would have surely cracked. For there you were lying next to him in his bed; an image that had only ever been real in the depths of his mind. And you were so very close to him now, the heat emanating off of your skin warming his body slightly, the smell of your perfume completely engulfing him.

“It’s…um…it’s better with the drums and bass and…stuff,” Eddie whispered into the silence that sat between you.

“I think it’s really good already.”

Eddie thought as he stared at you that if he inclined his head and leaned forwards just slightly—an action that would in theory take no effort at all—his lips would be on yours. They would be soft, he was quite positive as his gaze flickered down to them, so soft that he felt like nipping and sucking at them until they were swollen from his ministrations.

“I like it like this anyway,” you continued.

Eddie’s gaze flicked back up to your eyes, a raging blush erupting onto his cheeks as he swiftly turned his head away to hide it, pretending to instead look down at his guitar.

“What do you mean?”

“I like your voice like this. Without all the drums and guitars and loudness that you hide behind.”

“I don’t hide behind loudness.”

“Well it’s still nice to hear your voice properly,” you said, and Eddie could feel himself blushing at the compliment. “Is that as far as you’ve gotten with the chorus?”

“Ugh, yeah. I’ve tried a couple different lines but nothing seems to be fitting quite right.”

“Play me the beginning again.”

Eddie hesitated as you suddenly jumped up from where you had been laying, leaning down to rifle through your bag. You procured the black notebook that Eddie often saw in your possession, and a pen along with it before you returned to the space next to him, motioning for Eddie to play. So he plucked at the strings and hummed along where he should have sung, not altogether trusting his voice as his blush persisted.

“Play the next two counts of four.”

Eddie did as he was told, distracted slightly as you began scribbling away hastily.

“Okay now play them altogether.”

Eddie began to pluck at the strings and found himself becoming wholeheartedly surprised as you began to sing the lyrics he had just sung. The sound of his words upon your tongue sounded so very heavenly that Eddie felt something stir within him, something that he could not allow himself to acknowledge lying down so close to you. He pushed the thought from his mind, trying to regain focus, until he began to play past the lyrics he had written and realised that you were still singing.

“If long hair and tattoos are what attract you

Baby then you’re in luck.”

The smile that spread across Eddie’s face was wide, paired with a slight chuckle that escaped from his throat. When he turned back to look at you an equally wide smile was mirrored upon across your lips.

“What inspired those lyrics?” Eddie asked teasingly.

“Oh, you know, just this guy I know.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered down to your lips once more, slightly mesmerised by the smile that continued to grow there.

“Play the rest of the chorus. We can finish this thing.”

“Okay okay,” Eddie said, laughing at your eagerness.

Eddie plucked the chords for the rest of the chorus before he turned his gaze away from his guitar and back to you. Your brows were furrowed now, your face contorted into a look of concentration as you hummed the tune back to yourself over and over. Eddie played the chords once more, turning his mind to the lyrics before he found his own voice filling the room.

“And I know it’s just a phase

You’re not in love with me.

You wanna piss off your parents, baby

Piss off your parents, that’s alright with me.”

Eddie smiled to himself, laughing slightly at the lyrics. He liked the song, liked how funny it was and how much it had made the boys laugh when he had showed it to them. But then he was turning back to face you once more only to find that your smile had vanished. Your face was slightly serious now, and Eddie wasn’t altogether too sure why.

“What’s this song about, Eddie?”

The question was a simple one, and yet Eddie found himself wanting to change the topic. Because of course you had seen past the layers of humour he had infused into the song. Of course you had seen past the joking lyrics to what lied beneath them; a part of himself that he had hidden away a long time ago.

The comfortable air had changed between you now, something thick and heavy taking its place instead. Eddie thought about lying, about passing the song off as just the joke that he had intended it to be. But somehow he knew that you would see past that as well, that you would always see past the lies and the jokes until there was just him and all of his tainted self laid out bare before you.

“Artists always write songs about love,” Eddie found himself saying, his voice less firm than he had wanted it to be. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling, wishing that he could not feel the heat of your stare as you listened intently. “But I’ve never…” Eddie paused, composing himself. “I’ve never had anything like that before.”

Eddie heard the shuffle of your arm as it moved closer towards him, felt the soft touch of your fingers as they entwined with his. Something in his chest eased slightly as the warmth of your skin washed over him, the callouses on the pads of your fingers mirroring his own in a way that was so oddly comforting.

“In high school I would get so excited whenever anyone would show any kind of attention to me. There were a few times when girls would flirt with me for a while and then they would invite me over to their place or they would want to come here, and we would…you know.” Eddie couldn’t say it out loud. “And then when were done they would get changed and then they would tell me to never tell a soul what we did.”

Eddie felt your hand squeeze his gently and he braved a look towards you. Your eyes were so soft as they met his, so patient and gentle that for just a moment Eddie felt like crying.

“It’s not great for the confidence having people so repulsed by you that they won’t even be seen in public with you.”

“Well then they’re missing out.” Eddie felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips.

But the air was still slightly awkward now as neither of you quite knew what to say. Taking in a deep breath, concentrating on the way that Eddie’s hand was holding your own so very firmly, your voice filled the room.

“Do you remember when I told you that I steal the stories in my songs from other people’s lives?”

Eddie nodded, barely allowing himself to breath as your gaze flickered away from his. He didn’t quite know how the both of you had ended up like this; spilling parts of yourselves you had not uttered to anyone in years. But in a weird way he kind of liked it. He would be lying if he said that telling you about his past hadn’t eased a weight from his shoulders. He would also be lying if he said he hadn’t been immensely intrigued by the allusions Robin and Steve had made about your own past. The thought made him feel slightly repulsed by himself, but he did not stop you as you continued.

“Well that’s because my run-ins with relationships have all been very…fake.”

Eddie wanted to tell you to stop if you so wished, wanted to tell you that it wasn’t necessary that you share something deep just because he had. But then as he looked upon you, your gaze still fixed to the ceiling, he realised that maybe you were feeling the very same relief that he had just felt at having shared something that had been buried for so long. So he decided to just listen as you continued.

“The first time anyone ever asked me out was in freshman year.” Your voice was soft now and far too timid for Eddie’s liking. “It was a guy in the year above me who was on the basketball team, so of course I said yes. We were supposed to go to Olive Garden for dinner and so I showed up and I waited and I waited but he never came.” Eddie squeezed your hand in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “Turns out he’d only asked me out on a bet. Apparently the basketball team had a bet going to see who could get a date with a freshman the quickest.”

Eddie felt a rage so intense and so powerful erupt within him. He wanted to find the entirety of that basketball team and connect his fist repeatedly with their faces. He wanted to pin them down and make them hurt just as they had made you hurt. But just as Eddie had been about to offer whatever semblance of reassurance that he could, you continued.

“And then in sophomore year Tommy H asked me out and I stupidly said yes again. We watched a movie at his house but before we had even gotten through the first scene his hand was trying to get down my pants. So I left and the next day he had told everyone that I had shown up to his house uninvited and blown him in the doorway. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend until Carol was throwing a drink in my face.”

Eddie so wished that he could do something to ease the pain so evidently written across your features. He wished that he could do anything other than simply continue to hold your hand, completely at a loss for how to do anything to comfort you. He felt entirely useless within that moment, and he loathed himself for it.

When you eventually turned your gaze back to Eddie he felt his breath hitching within his throat. Something had changed between you now, something that made the air just a little bit more breathable, a little bit more comfortable. Your gaze was intense as it bore into his, seeing him in a way he had not been seen in so long. For just a moment he felt like turning away from you. But he didn’t. Instead he held your gaze for as long as he could, moving his head infinitesimally closer to yours until your lips were inches apart.

He could feel you now; the heat emanating from your skin, the electricity in your touch as his hand still remained firmly in your grasp. His eyes danced across your features, drinking in the sight of you like this before him, so breathtakingly beautiful that if Eddie were to suddenly wake up from a dream, he would not be altogether surprised. He drunk in the soft curve of your lips and the line of your jaw and the glimmer in your eyes. Your breath was hot against his cheek now, the feeling oddly comforting.

Without thinking, Eddie brought his hand up to tuck a strand of your hair back behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he did so. You shivered slightly at his touch, revelling in the soft caress of his skin against yours. His hand lingered upon the curve of your jaw, holding you there so gently that you closed your eyes at the touch.

He didn’t deserve you, Eddie thought to himself, not like this. He didn’t deserve the way your lips curved slightly upwards as you leaned into him further, he didn’t deserve the way his heart seemed to flutter at the realisation that this was all real. Because after everything that you had told him, after you had essentially put your heart onto a platter and entrusted it within his grasp, he was still withholding something from you. He wished that he could erase that conversation he had had in his trailer on that rainy night. He wished he could go back in time and kick himself for ever having agreed to such a stupid plan.

You deserved the truth, and Eddie knew that he had to give it to you. You would hate him, he was quite sure. You would get up and leave and he would be left behind still lying upon his bed completely still as he tried to remember this moment when you had been his for just a second. Eddie breathed in deeply, trying to burn this moment into his memory forever before he ruined it all.

“Eddie,” you whispered into the silence that sat between you, your voice entirely breathless.

“Yes?” he breathed back, quite grateful that you had spoken first for it served to prolong the moment if only slightly.

“Do you remember the song I sang at the last round of the competition?”

“Yes,” he breathed again, unable to stop the smile from upturning his lips.

“It wasn’t about Robin.”

Kiss her you fool.

Eddie wished that he had found the strength to pull away from you in that moment, just like he had managed to do back in his van after the party. But that moment felt like a lifetime ago, and Eddie could not quite fathom how he had accomplished such a feat when you were right here before him, baring all of yourself.

So in the end, he barely even hesitated as he traversed the distance that still sat between you and connected his lips to yours. In that moment he hated himself more than he ever had before, but he could not quite manage to regret his actions. For you were so warm and soft and breathtakingly delicious as your hand left his grasp and instead came up to tangle within his hair, your other hand cupping the back of his neck as you tried to pull him impossibly closer.

The kiss was slow at first, the both of you tentatively mapping the other out. It was hesitant and cautious and entirely breathtaking. He had been right, Eddie realised, your lips were so impossibly soft against his. Eddie brought one hand up to clutch at your waist, needing to feel you completely against him. You smiled slightly against his lips at the action, tangling your legs within his.

And then, slowly, the kiss became more heated. There was a hunger now that consumed the both of you, something that made you want to devour each other. You were the one to deepen the kiss first, and Eddie couldn’t quite help himself from moaning at your taste. With one hand still fixed firmly to your waist, the other cupping your face, Eddie pulled you somehow closer into him until he was suspending himself above you, your chests pressed together in such a way that he was quite sure you could feel the rapid beating of his heart.

He thought it quite likely that he could spend forever with you in that moment even though his lungs had begun to burn quite painfully and he was starting to get slightly lightheaded. The thought oddly terrified him, for he could not seem to pull away from you.

In the end, it was you who had to pull away first, and whilst Eddie found himself swallowing a disappointed groan, he was altogether quite grateful for the action as he inhaled deeply. He kept his head pressed against your forehead however, unwilling to let your touch leave him completely.

The sight of you panting beneath him stirred something in Eddie that he dared not acknowledge. He wanted nothing more than to connect his lips with your neck, trailing his kisses downwards, covering every square inch of you. He wanted to lift his shirt off and feel the slight callouses of your fingertips run along his skin. He wanted to kiss you anywhere that you would let him, touch you anywhere that you would let him until it was only you that he could feel, only you that he could hear, only you that he could taste.

But he would not allow himself to indulge in such pleasures; not whilst he continued to run away from the truth that you deserved to know.

So he pulled away, and he continued to pull away until there was just the sweet voice of Billy Joel masking the sound of your panting.

“But she'll bring out the best and the worst you can be

Blame it all on yourself 'cause she's always a woman to me.”

---

Songs Used:

- Just The Way You Are by Billy Joel

- 18 by Anabor

- She's Always A Woman To Me by Billy Joel

---

Taglist:

@alicetweven @juggernort @theh3aven @manamitoyota @mimiluvsualot @cherrypieyourface @kaqua @c0untryclub @goldencherriess @emotionaldreamer @givemethesleep @milkiane @miscreantsnopossoms @legendaryfestsoul-blog

Series Taglist

@grungegrrrl @thirddeadlysin @boomitsallie1 @renaroo123 @wordsthatwaterflowersinyoursoul @annnnn91 @bakugouswh0r3 @aivilovio @wannabewiedzma

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #dustin henderson #steve harrington #robin buckley #joseph quinn #Joe Quinn

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belfrygargoyles · 4 years ago

Note

*whispers* I would like to hear what you have to say on reader inserts in the SW fandom because I too have a problem with them and I feel like not enough people are calling it out 👉👈

I’ve made a few posts about it in the past but I think it’s high time I actually Do This and really get into it.

Before I start: 1) This will be in specific reference to fanfiction written for the Star Wars fandom, particularly tcw and the mandalorian eras, 2) A lot of the issues come down to racist fetishization of men of color by white women; I am white, so there is much that is simply not my place to make statements on. What I can speak most on is my take from the gender side of things.

I’d honestly recommend reading this post by @nibeul with addition by @clonehub first, as they discuss the core issue with reader inserts in the Star Wars fandom.

And 3) some of this will involve discussion of sexual acts (as they relate to fanfiction) and sexual fantasies. These discussions will be non-explicit, and no pornographic text or content will be displayed.

Also. I’m GNC and nonbinary. I’m also a very feminine looking person that falls under the generalization of “small and petite.” I don’t have dysphoria, I like my body and the traits I have, and treating them like inherently female sends me into a blind fury. This is, unfortunately, important.

For the sake of making sure I come across as clearly as possible, I will be writing as though the reader of this post has never read or is broadly unfamiliar with reader-insert fanfiction.

Without further ado.

Hey, Star Wars reader insert fic writers? Please get your shit together.

INTRODUCTION

I’ve been reading reader-insert fanfiction since I was a grade schooler waking up early to check Quizilla. I love it! It got me into fandom, kept me engaged, helped me make and develop some of my oldest OCs, and it’s just fun to read and write- it’s like a self-indulgent little gift you can give to a bunch of people all at once. Because who doesn’t like the idea of starring in their own little adventure, usually alongside some of their favorite characters? It can be fun, immersive, get you attached in ways other ways of fandom interaction may not, make you feel just a little bit special, or be a way to express some feelings you might have about canon and the way the story went.

Like any form of fiction, it ends up saying more about the author’s feelings than anything else, whether the author realizes it or not. For many, many authors of reader-insert fanfiction, the primary enjoyment comes from writing “themselves” into the story- before the readers, the author most often makes the “reader character” someone they, themselves, can relate to and substitute for themselves. They write to live out a self-indulgent fantasy they have, and their readers can come along for the ride.

Some writers do actually try to write as diverse or as vague of a reader character as possible- as few details about the body, identity, etc. as possible so anyone could superimpose their image without the narrative directly contradicting it. This is not the kind of reader insert author I will be discussing.

The kind of author I will be discussing is the one most common in the Star Wars tag on Ao3: White, AFAB, cisgender, gender-conforming, able-bodied women who assume all of their readers are also White, AFAB, cisgender, gender-conforming, able-bodied women. Yes, you can tell.

ISSUE: fetishization of men of color

Again, this post puts it in the best words, but there is a rampant problem with Star Wars reader-inserts, particularly those involving the clones, Boba Fett, and Din Djarin, fetishizing characters played by men of color as either “physically aggressive and threatening, hypersexual and dominant, big strong men who are scary because they do violence and fuck constantly when they’re not” or “completely inexperienced baby who doesn’t know anything about things and needs a gentle nurturing guiding touch to introduce him to the mere idea of a vagina.” The former is common across all of them, the latter most common among clone trooper fics or Din/Reader.

I went into the Boba Fett/Reader tag on Ao3, because I like him and hoped to find something alright. Here are some stats I tallied up (give or take some) based solely on tags, summaries, and warnings:

There are 284 works in the Boba Fett/Reader category as of the time of this post.

198/284 are rated E for explicit sexual content. 69.7% of all Boba Fett/Reader works are sexually explicit.

259/284 are in the F/M category. 91.2% of all Boba Fett/Reader works involve an explicitly female or AFAB reader.

24/284 are tagged with or mention “Age difference,” “Older man/Younger woman,” “Innocence kink” or “Virginity kink.” 8.4% of all Boba Fett/Reader works are written explicitly with an age gap, with Boba Fett as the older party

26/198 E rated fics are tagged with or make reference to “Daddy kink” or involve the reader being called some variation of “little girl” by Boba. 13% of all E-rated works under Boba Fett/Reader are daddy kink fics, or allude to Boba Fett being a daddy dom/sugar daddy.

102/198 E rated fics are tagged as, make reference to, or suggest in the summary that Boba Fett takes a dominant sexual role with a submissive reader involving rough or painful play, or make reference to Boba Fett being frightening, physically intimidating, having a power dynamic over the reader, or being possessive or violent. 51.51% of all E-rated works under Boba Fett/Reader portray Boba Fett as sexually dominant and/or enacting use of physical force or pain play.

Just using this as an example, because it’s the easiest stats I can gather and also what made me realize there was a pattern.

The problem isn’t even necessarily that people write explicit fic about Boba- it’s that 1) over half of all fics in the category are explicitly pornographic, and 2) the way those pornographic fics are written. The two things compound on each other. They’re dominance fantasies projected onto a character of color in which he becomes extremely sexual, physically rough with the reader, possessive, and demeaning towards a reader character who is always written as White, AFAB, and petite.

This brings me to the next issue.

ISSUE: The way sexual relationships are portrayed.

Let me clarify so there is no chance of me being misunderstood: sex is good. Liking and wanting and enjoying sex isn’t bad. It is not bad if you are AFAB and have submissive fantasies. It is not bad to be sexually attracted to a man of color. You can write about sex even if you haven’t had it. Writing about sex can be a good way to express some more complicated feelings you could have about certain things. It doesn’t even have to be realistic. It has its time and it has its place.

This being said.

Sexual relationships as they are portrayed in the vast majority of E-rated Star Wars reader inserts are… not great.

The reader is always AFAB. I can think of maybe one fic off the top of my head where an AFAB reader was written with they/them pronouns and not just she/her.

The reader is almost always submissive, the dominant character is almost always portrayed as cis male. Even when the characters are supposed to just be having spontaneous casual sex, D/S or BDSM aspects will be introduced with no prior discussion or talks about it afterwards. Sometimes characters will start using dirty talk and it just does not fit at all, but it’s what the author thought was hot.

Sometimes, it just reads like a quick smutty oneshot. More often than that, it reads like the author doesn’t realize that sex… isn’t always a dom/sub thing. Or that someone can take the lead in sex and that doesn’t automatically make them a dom.

It’s not bad to be inexperienced. It’s not bad to have preferences or kinks or specific turn-ons.

But it gets… tiring to read, over and over and over and over, because that’s all there is.

That and… I dunno, it just has me a little worried? It doesn’t make me feel good knowing so many people can only portray a sexual relationship if it’s dom/sub. I don’t know why it makes me so uneasy.

Vanilla sex isn’t a bad thing I promise. It's this feeling of insistence that something "spicy" absolutely has to happen for it to be worth writing that gives... some weird vibes.

I’m going to move on to the next Big-

ISSUE: Every “reader” character is exactly the same

By which I mean the following:

Always cis AFAB female

If a character is written with gender neutral pronouns they will always be AFAB and written like Girl Lite

I have never seen an explicitly stated nonbinary/gnc reader character unless it was a request specifically for a nonbinary reader

I have never seen a gender neutral reader insert fic where the reader was AMAB

I have seen a grand total of 1 cis male reader fic and 1 trans male reader fic. The trans male reader fic was about dysphoria.

The reader is allowed to have one of the following backstories: slave/runaway, mechanic, medic, ex-Rebel, secret Jedi, bounty hunter.

The reader is allowed to have one of the following personality traits: throws knives, babysitter, completely civilian, WOMAN, says curse words.

The reader is never written with any narrative agency- things only ever happen to the reader character or around the reader character, they are never written to take charge and actually affect things on their own. Essentially the sexy lamp trope.

Remember when I said the majority of people writing Star Wars reader-insert fanfic on Ao3 were White, cisgender AFAB women who are gender-conforming and able-bodied? This is how you can tell.

It’s at this point where you can tell they’re really not meant to be reader-inserts, but author-inserts with the names removed- they were only meant for a very narrow selection of readers.

I’m nonbinary, I’m gnc, and I’m a very feminine looking person, generally speaking. I’m used to people looking at me and assuming oh, girl. I’m at peace with that.

I can barely stand reading some of these fics just because of how much the author emphasizes that the reader is FEMALE shes a WOMAN with BOOBS and a VAGINA and FEMININE WILES. There’s barely ever even a chance to give myself room to mentally vault over all the “she”s and “her”s because then I’m getting hit with Din or someone calling the reader “girl” or “the woman.” It’s unbearable, and I even fall into the general description every fucking fic author uses for their generic protagonist!

Even with the “gender-neutral reader” fics, it is just. Painfully clear that they just wrote a female character and changed the pronouns- no, there is no such thing as “male behavior” or “female behavior,” and I quite heartily rebel against the concept of gender essentialism. And honestly, I can barely even begin piecing together how I know it and what it feels like, because it’s just one of those vague conglomerates of cues and writing patterns I can’t consciously pick up on but I know it’s there- it’s frustrating, it’s demeaning, and it feels like you’d have to threaten these authors at gunpoint to get them to write a reader character who was any major deviation from the same three cutouts they use every time.

It seems like they can’t possibly force themselves to write a reader character who isn’t meek and submissive or has the sole personality traits of “mean and can hit things”- you can actually strike a balance between “absolutely no personality” and “fleshed out oc” you know? And you don’t actually have to tell the reader what their hair looks like or how full their figure is

It’s like 2:20 AM and I started this at like 8something PM but.

I’m someone who loves reader-inserts. I enjoy them. I still check for new ones regularly. I’ve been reading them for well over half my life now.

So many of these authors are just locked in on exactly one way to write things and it fucking shows. It’s like a self-feeding loop, they just keep writing the same things and the same dynamics because they see each other doing it and they never think about taking a step back.

It’s… exhausting. I’m exhausted. If you’re a reader-insert fic writer and you want to improve your reader character inclusivity and have also read this far, you can DM me or shoot me an ask.

#star wars #x reader #star wars x reader #star wars reader insert #maintagging because for once i actually want ppl to see this #i hope my points are made clearly enough #if something needs clarification you can shoot me a DM or an ask

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

Text

Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past. Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital.

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer.

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid.

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing.

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner.

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England.

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place.

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return.

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.”

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s.

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do.

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order.

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore.

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream.

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia.

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would.

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was.

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out.

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second.

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned.

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all.

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand.

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind.

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too.

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive.

My eyes.

“Here, take my jacket.”

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping.

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for.

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then?

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.”

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me.

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.”

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid.

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look.

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing.

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first.

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.”

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer.

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body.

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.”

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories.

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities.

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me.

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy.

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been.

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did.

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands.

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion.

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine.

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years.

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain.

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me.

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time.

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that.

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us.

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it.

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.”

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties.

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.”

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?”

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive?

“Jeez, you must be really smart.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went.

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.”

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more.

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was.

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there.

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me.

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored.

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring.

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted.

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there.

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist.

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him.

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!”

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!”

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name.

“What’s yours?” He yelled back.

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time.

“Next time?”

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away.

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me.

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order.

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal.

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?”

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders.

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.”

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize.

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes.

But that’s not the worst part.

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her.

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.”

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage.

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace.

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that.

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.”

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer.

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back.

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence.

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.”

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being.

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded.

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.”

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed.

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.”

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition.

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.”

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further.

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-”

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.”

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.”

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?”

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about.

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions.

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends.

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away.

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily.

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?”

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.”

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.”

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.”

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell.

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed.

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued.

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.”

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed.

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).”

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently.

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something.

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off.

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything.

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear.

I love Spencer.

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair.

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!”

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?”

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession.

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter.

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door.

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-”

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him.

I learned, that day, that you do only live once.

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was.

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else.

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.”

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.”

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago.

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing.

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own.

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust.

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back.

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.”

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard.

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion.

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it.

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine.

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy.

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle.

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it.

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking.

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat.

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.”

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was.

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out.

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom.

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back.

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him.

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask?

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself.

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth.

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable.

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip.

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory.

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again.

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did.

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?”

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.”

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently.

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago.

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself.

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly.

I was pregnant.

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater.

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess.

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them.

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection.

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain.

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head.

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy.

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too.

“Well, have you taken a test?”

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?”

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing.

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.”

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now.

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time.

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked.

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.”

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face.

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?”

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?”

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire.

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.”

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace.

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.”

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.”

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face.

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!”

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed.

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade.

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

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curiosity-killed · 4 years ago

Text

hua cheng, the accidental person

okay this is for @bodhimcbodeface because i can’t shut up and make this concise enough for discord. spoilers ahead yeehaw

this is...not comprehensive. i’ve written 11 tgcf fics and am generally a bit fixated on Hua Cheng as a character so. there’s definitely things missing but i tried to hit the main points that i thought of while writing? also obviously this is just my interpretation! i do not expect anyone else to be like “ah yes curio the sage is so correct i have changed my thinking on this” like go live your life with your own versions of hua cheng! this is just the hill upon which i have firmly planted myself and from which i refuse to be budged. as u do.

anyway, LONG explanation of my very niche and very uh self-indulgent, not-necessarily-support-by-canon hua cheng apologism LMAO

tl;dr: (this is really Too Long i’m sorry) I think Hua Cheng reluctantly becomes a person during his 800 years of searching, starting from a point where he views Xie Lian not as a person but as an immutable god and focus of devotion and developing into a person who doesn’t really acknowledge that he’s a person because realizing that you want to live and do things for yourself is scary and overwhelming at times, and he ultimately falls in love with Xie Lian during the novel itself as he recognizes and is in wonder of the humanity of Xie Lian instead of his divinity or absolute judgment.

POINT 1: Hua Cheng doesn’t actually fall in love with Xie Lian till the ox cart

but curio! you say, “my beloved!” he calls him his beloved! and the land of tender!!

shhh. IMO Hua Cheng is more Wuming than Hua Cheng for those 800 years. By which I mean, for most of that time he’s, at his heart, a nameless soldier trying to find and serve his crown prince/general/god. He still views Xie Lian as this perfect and immaculate figure—a sculpture, a painting, a work of art that is untouchable and immutable. And he’s utterly and wholly devoted to that figure but devotion is not the same as love

So Hua Cheng is searching and trying to serve Dianxia all these years and then His Royal Highness finally ascends and is a god again and Hua Cheng shows up in all his glory to give this power and strength and wealth to serve him and—

and he’s met not by a powerful and reckless martial god or an unstoppable calamity but by a young man dressed in bridal robes who lets Hua Cheng lead him up a darkened mountain, who doesn’t lash out with spiritual energy or a sword but instead, only eventually, with the cursed bandage he was carrying back in the darkest part of his life.

and i think that throws hua cheng. like he’s had this image of his god all these years, this divine painting made over and over and over again—and he carries that belief and devotion with him, but there’s a crack in the sculpture and the stone is starting to flake off to reveal a human underneath it

so he puts on an approachable, malleable, unassuming skin and finds xie lian collecting scraps and being a lil awkward, a lil bumbling, generous and kind — and i think hua cheng, after 800 years of knowing everything, having everything — I think he looks at this discovery with wonder

Bc tbc this does not mean Hua Cheng views them as equals. For him it’s like, dianxia has even more to him, is even more than I knew. He’s seen Xie Lian as the flower crowned martial god in all his glory and as the white-clothed calamity in all his horror — and now here he is, wonderful, multitudinous, and human

Meanwhile I don’t think Hua Cheng even views himself as a person really, much less a human.

also i mean. the internet & allo ppl prove time and time again that you don’t need love for horniness so. land of tender’s right out as proof on that

POINT 2: The Live For Me thing

so obviously and undeniably, using one person as a reason for living is....not healthy. Not going to argue that. but my take on it personally is that, when Hua Cheng’s a kid who really, actively wants to die and sees no reason for living, Xie Lian gives him a reason to keep going. he doesn’t have to live for himself—that’s too much, that’s too big of an ask—but he’s been given a command and purpose by the one person who’s been kind to him/whom he respects. it’s a little like... “My life has no meaning but my cat needs me to feed him and clean his litterbox and so I need to keep getting up and taking care of him even if I don’t see a larger intrinsic purpose to my life.”

and i think like...it’s easy to forget that for all of books 2 & 4, Hua Cheng is young. He doesn’t live past 18—he’s still like...a kid. And that’s not to say that teenagers/young adults can’t make moral and rational decisions but I’m going to be honest, when I was that age I contemplated joining the Air Force because of tuition assistance and the snazzy uniform despite the fact that I was a vocal pacifist and repeatedly got into arguments with teachers about school rules and conservative politics. It’s not like. The Most Rational and Mature Age, lbr.

so Wuming is absolutely capable of looking at what Xie Lian is doing and being like “hey maybe war crimes aren’t a great idea” but he is young and traumatized and the one person he believes in, the one person who gave him a reason to keep going, is deadset on this task which tbh I don’t think either of them (or...necessarily...the society in which they live) views as war crimes in the modern sense (which isn’t to say that we as readers should view it any more lightly bc i think the narrative directly and firmly contradicts that idea) but as revenge, as an eye-for-an-eye. so, bad, but character-wise, I think it’s more nuanced than we sometimes consider

anyway back to the fixation on xie lian. i stand by the assertion that in those 800 years, hua cheng wasn’t exclusively focused on xie lian. like was finding and serving him his top priority? oh god yes. undeniably. there is no other version of this story. BUT eight hundred years is like....a lot of time. and i think in that time he started doing things for himself, even if under the guise of serving xie lian. hua cheng is curious and adventurous—he clearly likes to learn even if he plays it off as nbd—and i think he starts to realize that about himself in those centuries even if he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge or consider it.

POINT 3: Mt. Tong’lu in General

“okay, sure but what about the thousands of sculptures and murals of xie lian, curio. what the fuck about them.”

Yeah. FINE. okay we will DEAL with this. dealing with this is the entire reason i wrote “(like i do) in the tall grass.”

disclaimer: this is probably not supported by canon! i also. Do Not care. My Ghost King Now.

so I have two general avenues I take with this:

going back to the devotion > love — when Hua Cheng reaches MTL, he’s seen xie lian beaten and cast down. what do gods need to survive? worship! we see throughout how important divine statues/portraits/etc. are throughout canon. in this interpretation, the cave is a concentration of all that worship in an effort to support and serve xie lian and hua cheng doesn’t view himself like...as part of it. the sculptures could have been carved by any hand so long as they are xie lian and the worship and devotion that goes into their making can support and bolster him.

my personal favorite version: amNESIA IN THE CAVES —okay i don’t have the text pulled up rn but y’know how Guoshi says Hua Cheng was almost dispersed, in terrible condition, etc., when he reached Mt. Tong’lu. so if baby boy is in terrible condition, barely hanging on, etc., then my immediate favorite option is that he doesn’t, at that time, have even the...uh threadbare sense of self he did in life/as Wuming and is running on only a vague and urgent sense of Something driving him—something he has to do, someone he has to serve—and in that case, the paintings and sculptures are part of his trying to piece together and process his memories as he can grasp them and figuring out who he is/what his purpose is. Is this canonical? PROBABLY NOT. and yet here i am. firmly planted on this hill

Also w/ MTL I think a thing that’s often skated over is the mortals, creation of E’ming, and his ascension. Which is important from a meta lens of Hua Cheng and Xie Lian vs Jun Wu but that’s not the point of this rambling monstrosity and i’m trying not to get too distracted. ANYWAY I think this is one of those times when Hua Cheng does something that he would probably excuse as like ��well His Highness would’ve wanted me to” or “His Highness wouldn’t have been willing to sacrifice the mortals” because Xie Lian is still largely his moral compass—but it also is a peek at the complexity Hua Cheng doesn’t acknowledge within himself.

uh i got distracted anyway and no longer know what point i was making here. Hua Cheng Ascension Important....maybe i will remember this at some other point...

POINT 4: Live For Me (Revisited)

I sort of got distracted writing that point but anyway coming back to it now: I maintain that although Hua Cheng’s primary pursuit is protecting and serving Xie Lian he also does develop/realize his Accidental Personhood throughout his 800 years. this includes a lot of things, as previously stated, that are under the guise of serving Xie Lian (I’d put learning the Banyue tongue, finding out about the Gilded Banquet, collecting swords, beating the 33 officials etc., in this category) and things that maybe could be but...are not really (e.g., his friendship alliance with He Xuan, Paradise Manor* in general, the Gambling Den, learning the Wuyong tongue, bullying Qi Rong*, bullying FengQing*, playing with gold foil palaces, etc.)

(*these are ones that like...could be said to be for Xie Lian and I think he might say are for Xie Lian but also have a personal element that is just for him.

Like yes Paradise Manor is a lavish and well-stocked residence fit for a god or crown prince...but it’s also a luxurious and extravagant collection of all the things he couldn’t have in life. it’s like giving a kid a credit card with no limit and letting them run wild through uh. Fuck. A Fancy Department Store.

And sure Qi Rong was awful and turned on Xie Lian in pretty damning ways, but I also genuinely think part of Hua Cheng’s grudge with him is from the childhood abuse and from just...hatred that Qi Rong is around and looks like Xie Lian and gets to be there when Hua Cheng can’t find Xie Lian (which is about Xie Lian but for Hua Cheng).

Similarly with FengQing, sure a lot of his hate is for them abandoning Xie Lian—but he doesn’t even know till Book 3 when they abandoned him, and consider how much more he hates Mu Qing, the guy he blames for kicking him out of the army, etc. Some of it is totally “in service” to Xie Lian but some of it is because Hua Cheng carries a grudge like a goddamn pro and finds catharsis in beating the shit out of immortals who bounce back and can’t stop tripping over themselves and onto his blade.)

#hua cheng #tgcf #tgcf meta #long post #i'm sorry i cannot be concise or clear with my thoughts :<#this is why i write fic #bc i can just mash these interpretations through prose and then they turn out more clearly #....i think #i hope anyway bc this sure as fuck isn't that clear

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mallowstep · 4 years ago

Note

Genetics ask! I know that male torties/torbies are very rare and caused by a genetic mutation, but with those who do exist, are there any prerequisites with their parents? I’m assuming they’d have to carry the red gene since tortoiseshell is one red, one not-red, but I barely know anything. And based on this, is it better to just headcanon cats like Redtail as biologically female?

alright! hello, anon.

since i had to do more research than usual for this one, reminder that:

i am not an expert. i can and will be wrong. you can find my self-corrections under #corrections, but those are only things i or others have noticed, and that i've had the time to write a correction to and explain.

disclaimers out of the way, let's talk about tortie toms. (and torbie toms, and calico toms, it's all the same deal.)

if you know how ginger works, you can skip the next few paragraphs.

orange (ginger, red, etc.) is sex-linked in cats. what this means is that the gene that causes orange cats is on the x chromosome. it is also codominant, which means that having an orange x chromosome (Xo) and a non-orange x chromosome (X) is not black or orange, but both.

basically:

X or XX: black

Xo or XoXo: orange

XXo: tortoiseshell

yeah?

now, for the rest of this post, i'm going to be writing O and o instead of Xo and X because it's one less character and i don't run the risk of putting three x chromosomes together.

okay. so because torties need two x chromosomes, they're typically female. the way tortie itself works is basically, cells activate one of the genes (O or o) at random, creating patches. so you need two copies.

wikipedia says about a third of male torties have klinefelter's, which is the XXY karyotype. while this does have physical changes associated with it, the only way to confirm (humans have) klinefelter's is to test it genetically.

luckily, cats are very helpful about demonstrating it. what with them being tortie and all.

(we're also lumping in the variations of klinefelter's here. you can get XXYY, etc., and they all fit into the same broad idea.)

anyway, the extra x chromosome can come from either the mother or the father. this makes tortie toms...not quite easier, since the prereqs are the same, but y'know. if mom is Oo, dad doesn't matter. if mom is OO, dad has to be o, and if mom is oo, dad has to be O. same rules as usual.

XXY toms are going to be...not sterile, but pretty infertile. using human stats, about 50% can produce sperm, although the likelihood of them having kits is still low. humans with klinefelter's are also taller than average, so keep that in mind.

again, and this might be a correction on my part, i can't remember, but tortie toms aren't strictly going to be visibly different than other toms.

okay, so most people stop at klinefelter's, but there are two other ways to get tortie toms: mosiacism and chimerism. these are often confused/combined, but because i strive for generally being accurate, i'll go over them both.

mosaic cats carry multiple genetic lines, because of a mutation. this can either be somatic (happens in the body, is not hereditary), or germline (happens in reproductive cells of parents, is hereditary).

this is not always a gain of a line, you can lose a chromosome as well. the difference between somatic and germline and how it affects torties goes over my head, so i'm not going to speak to it, other than i'm pretty sure we're talking about somatic mosaicism. i think. again, not a biologist or geneticist, just a hobbyist with an internet connection.

right, so what happens is basically, some cells lose their extra x chromosome, giving you a cat with karyotype XXY/XY. these cats are more likely to be fertile and generally have less effects of klinefelter's. i'm not entirely sure how this affects tortie presentation, if at all, but it does happen.

i suppose you could also have some kind of mutation that gives you an extra x spontaneously, but that would be unlikely to cause torties, because it would also have to mutate into the other O allele.

again, i really want to stress that while i'm not bullshitting, i'm also not speaking definitively here.

last up is chimerism, where two embryos fuse in the womb, creating mixed genes.

i'm using a picture of a dog, here, because this is what goes through my head when i think of chimeras. you'll have to take my word for it, but while this would be a normal tortie cat, it can't really happen in dogs without some kind of mutation. and chimerism, given the extent of the patching, is pretty likely.

right! chimera torties are going to be, afaik, normal levels of fertile, although it's likely that they can pass on either black or red, not both.

(while i'm here, before we move on, there are a lot of types of chimeras. this type is called tetragametic chimerism, and it's rare in humans but more common in other animals. it's hard to know how common it is, because the differences are often very subtle, and hard to test. it's also not mutually exclusive with mosaics or klinefelter's, just to really muddy the waters.)

i don't have statistics for how common mosaics and chimeras are, and there's always, "a different type of mutation that doesn't fall into this category"

for mosaics and chimeras, the rules for inheritance seem to be the same as for klinefelter's. there's the added note that, because there can be multiple sires within one litter, a ginger queen could have kits with a ginger tom, and get a tortie son, as long as she also...ahem...with a black(/brown, etc.) tom. (or vice versa, with all brown and a ginger.)

okay! so that's basically how it happens.

as for the second part of this question, well. "is it better?" is a matter of opinion. i don't think anyone is wrong for having tortie toms. i don't care. (a) it is possible, and (b) we're all just having fun.

i, personally, do not think redtail is karyotype XX, because i like him being sandstorm's father with brindleface. idk. i like brindleface. yes, i know this raises huge genetic problems, and it's not very canon. i don't really care. i read that redtail fic where he thinks about sand&brindle as he's dying and it hasn't left me.

that said, i'm still a sucker for trans redtail. love it. idk, this is kind of hard to explain. like? it's not my headcanon, but i still appreciate it.

anyway! to the point: if you care about statistics and likelihoods and how many tortie toms you've had in the clan, yes, you're probably better off saving your chromosome anomalies for when they need to have kits, and using XX karyotype for the rest.

(under the cut: matthew rambles about trans cats and gender identity for a while)

i'm pretty sure cats don't have the western concept of gender. i don't think they have a human concept of gender, either, but at some point i need to be able to pin down something, and i think a third/fourth gender is closer to what they have.

i've been thinking about this a lot lately, because i decided i wasn't satisfied with my old approach to trans cats. i can do better than that. i decided cats don't have gendered pronouns, so why should the solution be, "trans cats don't really get to do anything about it"

no. i am dissatisfied with that.

at the same time, for specific reasons: i also don't think cats are trans in the western sense of the word.

because if for nothing else, remember that cat sexual dimorphism has a bigger effect on their life than in humans.

like, queens are going to be uncomfortable around male cats they don't hella trust and their kits. that doesn't go away if said male cat isn't a tom. y'know?

i'm in a constant state of tweaks with this, because i basically: form opinion, test opinion, refine opinion. my initial opinion was too harsh. and!

part of what's changed is i decided i wanted fernsong to be able to raise his kits in the nursery instead of ivypool. so i had to adjust how i think the nursery and queens work, slightly, to permit for that. now, i can turn back to gender and think about it some more.

i'm not going to coin any new terms, because i'm not in that kind of mood, but i think there is some idea of a female cat who is not a she-cat. i don't think the cats would call them a tom, but i'm not sure what they would say or how they would describe it.

i think they would just, on some level, get it.

actually okay you know what! i do need some lingo here. queens = cats who are raising kits in the nursery. she-cats = XX karyotype, considers self female (cis, if you will). toms = XY karyotype, considers self male (cis, again). and uh...we'll go with...

god i hate. i don't want anything i say in this ramble to be considered "words i am going to now use consistently" because i literally just need some way to describe this for my own sanity. with that in mind, let us use molly for XY karyotype, but not a tom, and...how about gib for XX karyotype, not a she-cat.

again, i don't want that to be considered permanent, i'm just fishing at words people use to describe cats so i can have something to work with.

right so, i don't think cats think gib and tom are equivalent, but i also don't think they (as a society) care about that.

like, okay, let's say redtail is XX, but not a she-cat. there's nothing to really be done (heck, if he wants to be a queen, that's still fine), cats don't have gendered pronouns or names, but at the same time, there's an intuitive understanding of what that means.

this kind of ties into the matriarchy, kind of? like, hm, queens are an important part of the matriarchy, but at the same time, she-cats inherit family lines. not that cats inherit much, but still.

i'm getting very abstract here. take, uh, like let's say a hypothetical trans mothwing. i think a lot of people have that headcanon?

and i think, like, mothwing would not be considered a tom. if cats had a concept of sexuality, leafpool would not be straight, because she likes mothwing, and mothwing is not a tom.

but! i would still think willowshine probably is the first line for nursery visits, at least when the kits are very young.

and i don't think anyone there would be unhappy with that deal.

right. i just kept rambling for a while, because i've been thinking about this and obviously it's semi-tied to the question.

tl/dr: cats don't care about gender, because they are cats meowing at each other in the woods. if a cat says they're not agab, everyone is just cool with that.

#ask #anon #essay #long #ask to tag #jic #mine #txt #genetics #redtail #warriors genetics #trans cats

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feckin-zicons · 3 years ago

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that's why i hate larries, i hate them with all my heart. besides being boring they are hypocrites 🙄

Hey nonnie, sorry its taken me so long to reply but if you’re following me you know I’ve been travelling lately and have been more scatterbrained than usual. Not that I’m ever not scatterbrained, but its been just a little crazier than usual!

Now I wouldn’t go as far to say I hate Larries. After all their delusions can be pretty funny sometimes!

Joking aside, I don’t hate Larries, I love Larries, I’m a Larry, so I really hesitate to tarry the whole group with the same brush. However I do strongly agree with you that there are those who are complete hypocrites. Nothing annoys more more than when Larries ™ treat the other boys, other celebrities, their friends and even family as one more side character to the Larry Show.

In particular when Larries ™ flood comment sections asking or in some cases, ordering people to confirm rumors/the couple being together. The absolute fucking disrespect. Not just because they’re flooding comment sections in videos streams, tweets, what have you, that sometimes have nothing to do with the couple in question, but because its presumptuous and rude as fuck to think they’re owed a coming out- just because they’re fans of the boys.

Stop it. Thats fucking ugly as hell.

While I have no doubt all the boys will one day be out (as referenced by their continued efforts in fighting the closet. I don’t get the sense the boys will just stop at being freed from their contractual obligations). It should and will be on their own terms. Provided they’re not forcibly outed some other way.

Coming out is a deeply personal experience and no one, no one ever, has the right to out someone else. I’ll never not be absolutely furious at the Larries ™ who posted about having ‘receipts’ that would out the boys. Which… tbh weren’t receipts at all but thats a whole other story. I’m also still angry at the reactions after Liams Attitude spread that wouldn’t have been as bad if not for the entitled fandom that peddled ridiculous claims beforehand about Liam confirming Larry to be real.

I mean… What the actual fuck. Setting aside the fandom experience of the time, and boy was it an experience. What right would Liam have confirming Louis and Harry’s relationship? I mean, get some perspective? It doesn’t help that a lot of fandom adults were the ones coming up with, and reblogging those theories and the younger fans ate it up. It would have made more sense for Louis and Harry to do it but idk maybe I’m still out of touch for thinking so. I mean, it felt like every other week someone was talking about Larry coming out. It was such a shit storm oh my god.

Biggest issue I still have with them is that the entitled behaviour hasn’t stopped. For some it seems like, Larry coming out is it for them. Like pack it up, goodbye, shows over, Louis and Harry are gay and in a relationship and everything is rainbows, we get to see cute pictures of them and everyone lives happily ever after.

Yeah, no. Coming out, for anyone, is just the beginning, can’t even begin to imagine what its like for them. They’re still going to need everyones support, and it irritates me that for some fans it seems so fucking conditional.

Time and time again, I’ve seen tweets, and posts, and videos, whatever, going on about Larry coming out and it reads like a fucking wattpad story. Not just that but its always on the assumption by the poster, on the off chance they consider the other 3/5ths of the band and Ziam being a possibility, that Larry will come out first?

What?

I’m sorry but, what?

Everything I’ve seen from the boys tells me they’re all in this together, they support each other and are working through the bullshit as a team. We have all seen the No Judgement music video yes? The merch, posts, double speak etc referencing each other, yes?

I mean, I suppose if you only look at Louis and Harry, like so many do, sure. Only Larry matters, everyone else is a side character in their life.

(Lemme just, scream for a second).

However, that kind of thinking leads them to the wrong conclusions. Like… assuming the SBB/RBB countdown was attributed to nothing, when it counted down to Liam finally being free of Sophia. In the years since, I’ve seen Larries ™ backtrack on claiming the bears had anything to do with the boys, that they weren’t behind it at all, or that they were just trolling the fandom.

You know, despite all the proof otherwise, and some really, really good posts breaking down clues about what the boys were trying to tell us. The moment something might not actually be about Louis and Harry its like all their thinking shuts off. Its frustrating. Really fucking frustrating.

Seriously, fans of the other boys as individulas, not just Ziams, have been talking about the stunts too and how they fit together. Its why we tend to be right, because we’re considering the entire group. They’re still a group. They’re not free until all of them are free.

Just for that Nialls coming out first. Lmao. I’ll call it now. Lets go Niall, whens the baby coming. We all wanna know. Its been years.

Imagine, imagine! Acting like coming out is some race to be won. The fucking audacity.

Go outside and touch fucking grass you absoulte ninny.

I get it, you want to be vindicated, you want to be rewarded for putting your faith in two celebrities being together.

Newsflash you dandelionfluff, its not a race, Louis and Harry coming out isn’t a fucking prize. Thats not what supporting a relationship looks like.

Its worse when someone admits they don’t know much about Ziam or the possibility of Niall being LGBT+, and claim they’re open to it, but then immediately tweet or reblog or sub tweet or tag comment a post or answer an ask from another Larry ™ talking about how Larries ™ are the most marginalized and persecuted group.

???

In what fucking world?

IN WHAT FUCKING WORLD?

If we wanna play that game, boohoo, the media claims Louis and Harry aren’t friends anymore because of crazy shippers. Meanwhile Zayn publicly isn’t friend with anyone and “left” the band… despite the Ziam fandom calling the stunt about either Louis or Zayn “leaving” and getting it down to the exact week (the second article coming out a week before about the Ziam kiss pretty much cemented it for Zayn leaving. Which did a lot to fan the flames of the already rabid fanbase when Ziam got two articles confirming a Ziam kiss over the years and Larry got nada. Like that actually means anything).

Not to mention Larries ™ using the hetties and management tactics against the other parts of the fandom to silence them.

Who cares what the media says anyway! TPTB, 1DHQ, The Sun, The Mirror, Simon and his minions and their unpaid interns have used the media to split the fandom apart and it worked.

Who the fuck cares if the media calls the 1D stans delusional, you know the truth! The truth it out there and you’ve seen it! The truth is coming! Who gives a damn about what some two bit “journo” who failed out of their creative writing course writes? They get worse by the year. If it wasn’t so pathetic and hilarious I might actually feel embarrassed for them. They can’t even come up with new stories and have just taken to copying old articles, but you’re upset with them??? Give it a rest. Honestly.

The sense of disconnect, entitlement and victimhood of some Larries ™ is absolutely ridiculous.

Oh my god they’re Karens. I’m not trying to be insulting, but thats exactly who they remind me of.

I’m not going to say its a surprise to me that so many in the Ziam fandom are POC, LGBT+, and Neurodivergent and any combination of those, but I am going to say I’ve read a lot of Larry fics that just have Het sex made gay. Those in the Ziam fandom just tend to look at facts in a different way than Larries do due to their life experiences. A interfaith, interracial, relationship where one or both partners fall under the Bi umbrella (not saying Louis or Harry can’t be or aren’t Bi+ but rumors, and the way the fandom markets them, puts them firmly in the gay category) looks very, very different than gay or straight relationship. Both looking from outside and being in one. There’s just different dynamics at play that aren’t often realized or understood by the gays and hets.

Its not a bad thing. All relationships are different. The issue is that theres a lot of biphobia/racism/religious prejudice etc that arises from people being unwilling to understand the inherent differences.

Taking myself for example, I’m bi, like, bi as hell, and I don’t understand how gays and hets only like one gender. I just don’t. Can’t wrap my head around it. If someone asks me to choose one gender over the others to prefer I can’t. Its so stressful. My brain goes into panic mode and it feels like I’m being torn apart. My sense of identity is shaken- its a shit feeling. I just can’t lie to myself like that. If other people feel the same well, its no wonder bi+ have such high rates of depression and suicide. Its not about choosing who to like, there is no choice, I just feel attraction to everyone. Aces, I get. Its similar to being the opposite of what I feel, or not feeling an attraction to someone I’m not interested in. Easy. Gays and hets? I’m completely lost on.

Completely, and I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try and understand where they’re coming from. Its alien to me, personally, but I’m not going to shut down the fact, that theres a fuck ton of people who only like one gender or try and make up reasons as to why they’re actually bi+

I digress, none of the boys fall neatly into the gay stereotypes, its just that parts of the Larry fandom have boxed Louis and Harry into certain roles to fit preconceived notions (likely do to them initially fitting in better with the white, sassy, somewhat effeminate twink thats been plastered all over Hollywood as their “LGBT+ representation” for years. Gag), they can understand better, and only look for proof to back up their theories but don’t look at things objectively.

They really need to get out more and make some LGBT+ friends that aren’t on the internet and talk to some gay elders. They need educating that’s not the often sanitized and insulting Hollywood version, that’s all I’m saying.

They made Louis and Harry more palatable for themselves and its… really gross.

I don’t know, I don’t get it.

Some Larries ™ turned the boys into their fandom and fanfiction stereotypes when they’re so much more than that. The Sony leaks should have been enough to dissuade the fandom, and prove that the brand sold to the broader audience is just that- a brand, and yet… Niall only talks about food and golf and Ireland and is only allowed to be straight or ace. If he exists at all its just to be Capt Niall. Liams slow and dumb and depending on the day he’s either Capt Liam or a horrific abusive homophobe. Zayns just The Worst, a unstable drug addict, and the boys hate each other, and they should have kicked him out of the band sooner because he never wanted to be part of them anyway, etc.

It drives me absolutely around the bend some days. They’re real people who don’t owe anyone anything, especially not coming out.

Yes, I think they will. But they’re not obligated to. They can change their minds, I’ll support them regardless of an “official” coming out or not.

Look, a part of me gets it. They wanna be right, they wanna prove the haters wrong, they want to be able to say I called it all along! The vindication will be sweet.

But like, it takes a quick look at someone other than Louis and Harry to realize theres something hinky going on with Liam, Zayn and Niall. Please listen to their fans who have spent just as much time as you have looking into Louis and Harry compiling together evidence.

It might take a weekend to watch the ILYSM and pterodactyl bros videos and a few more hours looking into some Niall blogs, which isn’t much compared to the hours I know they’ve spent looking into Larry. At least then they’ll have enough information to form an opinion on things.

I wonder, for some, what would happen if Larry didn’t come out, or didn’t come out first, or one of the other boys was outed against their will. Because… I don’t know. It seems like some would rather just be proven right at this point.

I get it. We’re tired. Its been eleven long years. But this isn’t a television show were everything can come to a head with a s3 or s4 cliff hanger and fixed in the series finale. Its real life, and they started off as boys trusting industry veterans who never had their best interests at heart.

Iduno. I just want some Larries ™ to take a step out of the echo chamber, realize life isn’t The Larry Show & co. And especially. ESPECIALLY, that every instance were someone, friends, family, co-works, industry peeps etc support the boys they are SUPPORTING THE BOYS, NOT THE FANDOM. They are not “confirming Larry for the fans” they’re doing it to support the couple, not to cater to the fandom. Please stop confusing the two. There’s a huge fucking difference. Learn it.

#Honestly it should be the Liam Payne the three guys who’ve had a crush on him and the one who married him.#aka the hill I'll die on #lmao #sorry not sorry #IM SORRY IT LOOKS LIKE I HAD A LOT MORE TO SAY ABOUT THIS THAN I THOUGHT I WOULD #ASDFGHJKL;#also please don't think I'm calling anyone out specifically #these are a lot of generalizations and trends I've noticed after being in fandom for nearly 11 years they pop up all the damn time #circles we're just going in circles #I've been following Ziam in particular since the Nov 2011 interview #but suspected Liam had a crush sometime before when I saw a gifset of him talking about Zayns birthday presentsbc he as acting the exact sa #e way I was when I was crushing on a girl I knew #I saw myself in him and ignored it for another day #lmaooo #ziam #larry tunnel vision #larry vs ziam #Larry vs Niall #fandom bs #ask

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years ago

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i’m rereading TSG for the how manyth time and i really can’t wait for the sequel!! Layla being unplanned is something i can really see happening. do you have any fic recommendations that deal with jackie getting pregnant?

hope you are also feeling better!!

I am feeling waaay better, thank you!!

I spent a huge chunk of my day yesterday writing RYLH and the sequel that has yet to be named, it was fun! I think you guys will love it! (I wrote a scene between Dylan, Jordan, Jackie, Laurie and Hyde that made me laugh so hard that I choked on some water. Yeah, I laugh at my own jokes, lol).

Anyway, I love pregnancy stories more than anything, so, here's a list with all the J/H stories that I've read (and enjoyed) that deal with Jackie being pregnant:

Multichapters:

A Veteran's day Wedding by Our Midnight's Musings (post s8):

Jackie and Hyde are finally getting tying the knot! The only problem? It's not going how they planned it- at all.

Basically, they had to replan their whole wedding because Jackie just found out that she's pregnant.

This story is a WIP and it's being updated constantly.

7k words, 4 chapters for now.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Red/Kitty

Daddy's Home by Hyde's Bride (post s8):

A terrible thing happened to Jackie, but it resulted in something great. Can it bring Jackie and Hyde back together?

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: Jackie gets pregnant because she was raped in this story.

Complete.

39k words, 14 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Kelso/Brooke, Eric/Donna and Red/Kitty

Fatherhood by varietyofwords (post s8):

The birth of Betsy and Kelso taking on the role of father has gotten Hyde thinking about fatherhood.

Absolutely beautiful story that narrates Jackie and Hyde's journey to have their first child.

Complete

10k words, 6 chapters

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

That's My Baby by kezztip (post s8):

This is a JH story with a twist instead of the wedding and baby being the happy ending, it's going to be the rocky start. All of you who love to watch Jackie outzen Hyde will be on board with this one.

That was literally the first story that I thought about when I've read your ask. It fits one of my rare categories that I call "I wish I could delete this from my brain just so I could read it for the first time again", so trust me, it's amazing.

Complete.

68k words, 23 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

The Birds and The Bees by c00kiefic (s8 canon divergence):

Jackie finds out she's pregnant right after Sam shows up and Hyde decides to stay with her.

I love this story so much! Jackie and Donna's friendship in this is everything!

Not complete, but worth the read!

22k words, 6 chapters

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

One-shots:

In The Oven by nannygirl (not especified):

Having moved into their new home, Jackie and Hyde invite Red and Kitty over for dinner and to share a surprise that's in the oven.

CUTENESS OVERLOAD!!!

3k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Red/Kitty

sighs in my sleep by finkpishnets (s7 canon divergence):

“Congratulations,” the nurse says, smile pulled too tight as she glances at Jackie’s unadorned hand.

Jackie wants to shrug it off — “My husband’s getting the ring engraved as an anniversary gift. Isn’t that just so romantic?” — but she can’t find the breath to let the lie trip off her tongue, even in the face of pity.

Beautiful one-shot.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Surprise, Surprise by poetdameron (not especified):

Jackie has something important to say to Hyde.

700 words

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The Waiting by nannygirl (not especified):

One of Point Place Hospital's waiting rooms is filled with several familiar faces as they wait for the arrival of their newest family member. Find out who the familiar faces are and whose baby they're all waiting to meet!

7k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Red/Kitty, Kelso/Brooke, Fez/Laurie

Unspoken by QueenBookBuff (alternative universe):

Hyde thinks about all things he never said to Jackie, that he wished he had.

This is mainly Hyde thinking about his and Jackie's journey while he lays next to a pregnant Jackie. It's cute AF. You might want to read the She Belongs to me series before reading this though.

1k words

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I'm kind of upset that this is all, because I really love reading stories where Jackie's pregnant. Like, I really do. Let's all write more stories with a knocked up Jackie please, it'll be fun!

If anyone thinks I forgot about a story, please let me know, thanksss <3

#ask #fanfic recommendations #pregnancy #jackie x hyde #jackie and hyde #zenmasters #that 70s show

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blouisparadise · 5 years ago

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Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics that involve a love triangle. We tried to choose fics where Louis or Harry have feelings for more than one person or have to make a choice between two or more people by the end of the fic. For each fic, we specified who the people competing for Louis’ or Harry’s heart are. We hope you enjoy all these fics. If you do, be sure to give the writers love and reblog this post! Happy reading.

1) We Are Wide Away | Explicit | 9091 words | Sequel | Harry vs. Liam

Liam watches Louis, his closed eyes, the way his skin is shining with moisture, the flutter of his lashes against his cheeks; when he looks up Harry is staring at him, watching him in turn.

2) Doesn't Have To Be A Real Thing | Explicit | 12532 words | Harry vs. Nick Grimshaw

In which Harry helps Louis get over his ex and it kind of becomes a regular thing. It’s totally casual – they have an understanding. But what happens to Harry when Nick reappears in Louis’ life?

3) Maps Can Be Poems When You're On Your Way | Not Rated | 18974 words | Harry vs. Liam

Harry falls in love with the guy his best friend is fooling around with.

4) Bloom | Explicit | 24887 words | Harry vs. OMC

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

When they first meet at Harry’s flower truck, Harry falls hard but Louis’ unavailable. Only before long, Harry reignites a spark that Louis thought long forgotten.

5) If This Is It, At Least We Can End It Right | Explicit | 26369 words | Sequel | Harry vs. Zayn

Note: The first fic isn’t endgame Larry, but the second one is.

Harry breaks Louis and Zayn's there to pick up the pieces.

6) Sweet Dreams Are Made of This | Mature | 29982 words | Harry vs. Zayn

Loosely based on The Wedding Date. Inspired by 27 Dresses. Basically, Fake Boyfriend AU with a twist. Louis' sister is unknowingly getting married to the ex who broke his heart. When faced with the prospect of turning up alone, Louis panics and hires a corporate escort named Harry. General chaos and epic jealousy ensues.

7) The Blood Is Rare And Sweet As Cherry Wine | Explicit | 33569 words | Harry vs. Henry Cavill

“Sex therapy?” Louis asks, cocking an eyebrow.

To his credit, the doctor doesn’t blush, “An extremely personal and efficient form of therapy, Mr. Tomlinson.”

“Oh?”

“Should you and your husband wish to, I would be eager to help you in any way I can offer.”

8) Maybe We're Perfect Strangers | Explicit | 39849 words | Harry vs. Niall

When an EDM festival in the Caribbean touts itself as a “life-changing and transformative experience,” Harry’s not too sure he buys into it. Regardless, Harry wants nothing more than to please his best friend, so he goes along for the ride. What he doesn’t expect is to fall head over heels for the festival’s organizer who Harry discovers is also the object of his best friend’s affections.

9) With Stars Of Brightest Gold | Explicit | 41109 words | Harry vs. Henry Cavill

Louis Tomlinson is the premier courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. In his dreams, he has always wanted to be a famous stage actor. Locked into his contract, he has little means of escape until a handsome duke promises him freedom with a romantic alliance. Due to a case of mistaken identity playwright Harry Styles is thrown into the mix, compelling Louis to choose between his head or his heart.

10) Some Things Take Root | Explicit | 50269 words | Harry vs. OMC

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

AU. Louis’ ex doesn’t get jealous of anyone besides Harry. Harry helps Louis use that to his advantage.

11) The Bachelor | Explicit | 53953 words | Louis vs. many men

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The one where Harry dates six other guys and still falls in love with Louis Tomlinson.

12) Amazing Sin | Explicit | 56034 words | Harry vs. Liam, Louis vs. Taylor

Gears started turning in Louis’ head$. Purely mischievous gears that had Louis formulating a revenge plan against Taylor. He’d had enough of sitting around and taking it. If she was going to call him a whore, then fine, he’ll act like one for real. “I’m going to say something, and as my friends you are obligated to love me anyway.”

“This can’t be good,” Niall said, Zayn just groaned.

“So I know we have this strict ‘no lashing back at Taylor’ rule with me, but what if I can get press revenge a different way?” Louis asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer, because they knew by now to just go with it. “What if I stole her boyfriend?”

13) Every Story Has Its Scars, Ours Is A Brand New Start | Mature | 62859 words | Harry vs. OMC

Life as a devoted husband and an amazing father turned out to be a little different than Louis had expected. Everyone tells him it doesn't have to be that way; that he's worth more and that he's so much stronger than any one person trying to keep him down. It's all just words though until he meets the one person who makes him truly believe it.

14) Curly Bun Man | Not Rated | 68600 words | Louis VS. OFC

I just paid for these Doritos but they're stuck in the vending machine and I know you've been waiting but I am not going to let you buy something until you help me. AU

15) This Wicked Game | Explicit | 70010 words | Louis vs. many men

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

16) You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) | Teen & Up | 102036 words | Harry vs. Nick Grimshaw, Louis vs. Luke Hemmings

Note: This fic has BH mentions.

Bridget Jones' Diary AU.

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it's a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

17) Blue Ice | Mature | 102967 words | Harry vs. OMC

An AU where Louis finds himself in a marriage he didn't bargain for.

18) Fucking Animals | Explicit | 116687 words | Harry vs. OMC

Louis is the frontman of an equal rights-movement, author of a book about beta-omega marriage and the struggles of being born and boxed into a personality you don't necessarily feel you fit. The notion that an omega must want to be with an alpha or else he or she's just settling for less, is bullshit.

But, fucking hell.

19) Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) | Mature | 119264 words | Louis vs. many people

Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #lilo #louis and men #zouis #tomlinshaw #blp fic recs #blp

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moth-song-archives · 4 years ago

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The Insatiable Flow of Time (1/8)

I remembered that I can make posts here too huh! Anyways, I wrote a post-MAG200 fic <3

I’ll reblog it again with the link to ao3 if you’d prefer reading it there :D

Rating: Teens and Up Archive Warnings: Choose Not To Use Categories: F/F Relationships: Georgie/Melanie, Georgie & Jon, Jonmartin (mentioned) Characters: Georgie Barker, Melanie King, Jonathan Sims, the Admiral, Basira Hussain (mentioned), Rosie Zampano (mentioned), Martin Blackwood (mentioned)

Additional tags: Diary/Journal × post mag200 × Post-Canon × Canon Compliant × Rated for swearing and me doing my best to write a fitting epilogue for my most fave story of all time × Bittersweet × Hurt/Comfort × Grief/Mourning × Gentle-Sad-Soft × Fluff × Non-Sexual Intimacy × Tenderness × Generally Hopeful Ending × Ambiguous/Open Ending × Catharsis × You know how TMA is a tragedy? ... yeah × Hope Punk × dealing with the fallout of surviving a literal apocalypse × Moving on and letting go × Trans Georgie Barker × Nonbinary Melanie King × Melanie uses any pronouns but needs to (re)discover this first × and is then mainly referred to with they/them pronouns for diary-simplicity × Melanie is ace in my heart ♡ × Jon is also enby but it only gets referred to in passing × Georgie has a Type™ × Character Study × i love them all so much × Nonbinary aspec author × it's very hope punk and somft BUT ALSO VERY SAD × in like a cathartic way × because i like causing pain :') × pre-written and updates every 2-3 days

I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?

As the world tries to piece itself back together, Georgie grapples with her past, her present, and her future by keeping a diary. She also keeps having this strange, recurring dream that involves Jon. Post MAG200.

Finished at ~12k, will upload over the next couple of days <3

Day 3 - Evening

Melanie is sleeping. Basira is also sleeping, on the sofa in the living-room. She doesn’t really know what to do with herself, these days, so for now she’s staying with us.

I am not sleeping. I’m so far beyond tired that I can’t sleep anymore. It’s been... how long? More than a day, certainly. I’m at the kitchen table and the night outside is darker than any I’ve ever seen. There are no street lights and a million more stars than I could’ve ever imagined. I wish Melanie could see them too :(

Back before everything in my life went wrong, I used to be really good at this. I think I got my first diary when I was... seven, maybe eight? I used to be obsessed with it. I guess I stopped writing in college, after the incident, because it felt... wrong? Like I was lying to myself, trying to fabricate emotions that just weren’t there, keeping up with things that no longer seemed important or note-worthy. Mainly, I couldn’t make myself care about anyone or anything anymore.

I think I want to find that person again, now that it’s over. Try and… move on? And Melanie encouraged me :) I guess that’s the main reason. I found this notebook in one of the domains when we were rescuing people. I don’t know what I originally wanted to do with it, but I did end up forgetting about it until I went through my bag again today. It smells like fire and is a bit singed in places, but I kind of like that? I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. ...that sounds very pretentious, but this is just for me, so...

And I like that it’s just cheap paper scribbled on with a shitty biro. Maybe I’ll just burn it when all the thoughts are on the paper instead of in my head. When I can sleep again. And the prize for the most dramatic way of closure goes to Georgie Barker! But yeah. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?

But I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I feel different, now that they’re gone? The entities, I mean, though Jon and Martin seem to be gone, too.

I keep remembering Martin’s expression when he told us to go early, how upset he was.

Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised. As long as I’ve known Jon, he’s always done what he thought best. It used to drive me up the walls, but I also admired it, I think? I never would’ve told him that, but… Well. He’s gone now.

It’s over, all of it.

And I still can’t sleep.

And Melanie is still blind, and I still feel empty, and my fear still hasn’t come back. Everyone who died is still dead, and the trauma is still there. There were angry mobs in the streets, and people got killed.

I can’t quite believe that Jon and Martin went with them. I can’t believe they left us behind to explain the entire mess.

We’re back in our old flat. It’s so weird to be back home. Everything looks the same, as though no time passed at all. Nobody knows what date it is. How long were we caught in there?

Outside, it feels like spring. There are birds everywhere, singing their hearts out. Sounds like more birds than there used to be, too. The trees are leafless and dead-looking, but Basira pointed out that they’re getting there... and it feels like spring.

I haven’t slept properly in 3 days because the questions keep me awake. It’s not that I’m worrying, really, just… thinking? I think I could sleep better if the worry had come back, but it hasn’t.

As far as we can tell, all modern devices are broken, too. Computers and phones and such, digital cameras, generators... we don’t even know what the rest of the world looks like. I hadn’t realised how much gets controlled by computers these days, we don’t even have central heating or water access in our flat. Rumours and news are spreading person-to-person, like in the Olden Days. We only have emergency systems that were installed in case of nation-wide blackout. I guess I’m glad we don’t actually have a blackout, we just need to get the computers back to work. (If I understood it correctly.)

Melanie thinks it’ll all come back to life in a few more days. I certainly hope so. I also hope I’ll stop feeling like this. Or rather, not feeling like anything. It’s so strange. Like in the first days after the incident, when I just felt numb?

They’re gone! I want to feel like a person again! What if I never get myself back?

They’re actually gone.

What will we do with our lives now? Basira isn’t the only one who feels uprooted. I think the whole world feels like that right now.

I hope my computer comes back soon. I miss music, and making things. My photos, all those memories.

I don’t want to lose all of that. I want to start fresh, but not without records of the past.

…I’ve had a lot of time to think about that, specifically. Records, and futures.

What the Ghost is done, right? There’s no fun in creepy ghost stories if you’ve been through an actual, living nightmare.

I think I want to start new with that, too. When everything works again, that is.

New world, new future, new podcast. I like that. I think. Make a record of what happened through eyewitness accounts? Or is that too similar to the Statements… then again, it’ll be more like interviews. And I think we shouldn’t forget.

We owe them that much.

I’ll have to talk it over with Melanie tomorrow. Maybe.

We’ll see.

God, I think maybe… maybe I can actually try and sleep tonight. Writing does seem to help.

Note to self: thank Laverne for suggesting it. (Also for being there for Melanie. And listening to us. And stopping with that culty nonsense. She’s the only one we found so far, but she actually listened to us. Strange to think that in this world, I have to be grateful for someone not worshipping me for some dumb reason?!)

Day 4 - Morning

So. Three things.

1) I did manage to fall asleep after all! I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac, especially after the incident, so actually getting some proper rest felt really good.

2) I somehow woke up right as the sun went up! I think I’ve never seen a dawn this beautiful? I watched it from the bedroom window and I’ll definitely describe it to her in detail when she wakes up! The Admiral was sleeping on our pillow, right next to her head, snuggled up against the back of her neck and shoulder... it was so cute. I can’t believe my phone and camera still don’t work! Melanie has that old polaroid camera somewhere but we haven’t found it yet, and I wish my art skills were any better. I did draw a sketch of the two of them though. I’ll cherish it forever, no matter how shitty it is :’)

After everything that happened, the Admiral is still a bit weird around us. He started out really aggressive, calmed down a bit, and now… now he’s weirdly skittish? Meows a lot. Keeps walking around the flat. The only thing that even remotely returns him to how he used to be is tuna. It’s weird.

But seeing him like that, with Melanie? I love him so much.

I think he’ll be okay.

But before I forget, and why I actually got out the diary at this ungodly hour instead of trying to go back to sleep now that the sun is up…

3) I had a really nice dream. And... I don’t even know. I think I want to try and hold onto the feeling? I don’t think I’ve felt that… deeply… in a long while. Maybe the last time was before all this, when we decided to move in together. Before all of this happened.

For a moment, I felt like I was whole again :’)

It didn’t even have Melanie in it, which is very rude tbh. I think Jon was there? The Admiral, too. We were just chilling on the sofa, watching netflix I think... It felt so... mundane??? Casual, somehow??? Like it was normal to feel like that and I just... I want THAT. I want to feel like that again, instead of this weird… blank nothingness? I want that all the time, not just when I’m riding a high or feeling so terrible that it pierces through.

I don’t know if that makes sense but this is just for me anyway so I suppose it doesn’t have to.

I think I should feel bad about Jon being gone, but I still don’t even feel relief at it being over. Just this vague numbness.

I hate it so much, except I don’t, actually, I just know that I should?

Melanie keeps saying that I need a therapist but if we’re being honest here, I guess I need one the least? The whole goddamn world needs therapy right now. Including the therapists. And I’ve been dealing with this for a long time now.

I guess I keep hoping it’ll just go away somehow.

Anyways. Enough introspection, I’m going back to bed. I hope I don’t wake them! :)

Day 4 - Evening

It’s night now, the sun went down hours ago. We have a bunch of candles, but I’m trying to use them sparingly, so I just have one lit. I put a glass of water next to the candle so now the light gets magnified a bit more. It’s a weird atmosphere, but I kinda like it? Feels… cozy! :)

I’m still not over how everything looks the same, but nothing works like it did before, and there’s this… burden? This collective trauma everyone went through. It feels so surreal. So many things are still broken… it’s like we woke from a collective nightmare, but pieces of it still remain, floating around.

And we just sent it away with the tapes. I really hope those other worlds are doing better than us, but what else could we have done? I… try not to think about it. I know I should, but I still can’t really bring myself to care, or even feel overly guilty for that? …

Melanie fell asleep with her head in my lap half an hour ago. I was reading to her. She says she loves the sound of my voice, so I’ve started doing that in the evenings. (I still love that we had separate crushes from a distance on each other for ages because of youtube and WTG. We’ve been talking about that a lot, too.)

She still has nightmares, but apparently she’s also been having good dreams, and she looks so peaceful right now. The last few days have been a lot, but in comparison to before, and even before then…

It’s over. We made it out. We get to have a future together. I still can’t quite believe it. :)

I guess I’m writing again (despite already having done so in the morning) because it somehow helped yesterday and I’m hoping to replicate that. And I have a lot to think about. It’s been a long day.

Basira is still out there, helping out where she can. I think she feels guilty. Melanie says she doesn’t because there was no other choice, but I know her, and I know that she’s lying.

There’s always another choice. We just say that to make it easier to bear.

I hope she knows she can come talk to me when she feels ready to tackle it.

I hope I ever feel able to tackle it myself. No. I will talk to her when I’m ready.

We did talk a bit about things, of course. Melanie doesn’t really remember her dreams, most of the time, but apparently she’s been alternating between horrifying nightmares and a really nice, recurring one that sometimes happens after the nightmares. She doesn’t really remember much of it, but she mentioned it after I told her about the Jon dream. Not what it was about, just… in general.

From the way she talked about it, I think her dad might have been in it? I’m actually not sure, but the way she smiled…

She has that little smile on her lips again, even now, dreaming. The soft one she gets when she talks about good things. About him.

About me.

(I still can’t believe she chose me. How impossibly lucky? How did I ever deserve her? But then, it’s not about that, is it? She is mine, and I am hers, and… life will be good. I know it will be.)

She’s been smiling a lot more, these past few days.

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hopeswriting · 4 years ago

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FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020

PROMPT: “Oh No, They’re Hot”

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting

RATING: G

PAIRING: Adult!Colonnello/Adult!Skull

SUMMARY:

Colonnello officially meets Skull for the first time, and he finds him way more hot than a could-be, easy, bully target.

TAG WARNING: Swearing, Sexual Innuendos, Implied/Referenced Bullying

WORDS: 1603

How hard could it be to be a punctual human being?

Surely not that hard, seeing as Colonnello was one all his life.

You’d think he would have mastered the art of waiting by then, but if this Skull guy doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, he’ll just leave without looking back.

Or maybe he’ll stay until he shows up, so he can give him a piece of his mind, depending on how long he can make his drink last.

Colonnello rolls his eyes, bumps his head against the wall.

This whole “meeting the Arcobaleno one-on-one as your now teammates” is ridiculous. What is he, a new student at school trying to win the favor of the popular kids?

Colonnello was always among the popular kids, thank you very much. He can’t believe Lal would support this idea, but no matter now.

He just needs to meet the Cloud to be done with it all for good.

Colonnello hears it long before he can see it.

A black and purple motorbike rounds the street corner in a very sharp turn, an equally black and purple driver riding it.

He speeds past the cars in no time, driving around them but keeping so close it’s a wonder they don’t make contact, the sound of the engine revving and the tires against the concrete drowning everything else.

He speeds right past Colonnello, then makes an abrupt u-turn, his motorcycle tipping sideways so low Colonnello doesn’t comprehend how he doesn’t fall, switches lanes, and smoothly parks right in front of him on the sidewalk.

Is this guy… trying to show off to him?

Because it’s working alright.

Colonnello laughs breathlessly, goosebumps up his arms. A chill runs down his spine, adrenaline running through him from just watching.

Oh, he absolutely needs to earn himself a ride.

Skull casually walks up to him, not seeming to care about all the eyes on him. “Hi, I’m Skull. Sorry, I’m not too late, am I?”

Colonnello glances at his watch. Thirty five seconds before five minutes.

This fucker.

“Hi, I’m Colonnello. You are late. I thought we both agreed on the meeting time?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I got stuck in traffic.”

Colonnello subtly narrows his eyes. He just can see Skull grinning despite his helmet, and he sure as hell heard it.

This little shit.

“So. You met all the others already?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Skull puts his hands in his pockets, fidgets uncomfortably. “Well, I’m sure you heard all kind of things about me from them, but, you know, I wouldn’t exactly call them Skull specialists.” He shrugs, raises his hand to his head. It bumps against his helmet. “Oh right, my helmet. Hold a second.”

Colonnello’s drink goes down the wrong pipe. He doubles over in a coughing fit, his drink slipping from his hand entirely.

“Woah man, what the hell?”

What the hell?

This guy is hot.

“Are you alright?”

Colonnello pushes his helping hand away, still coughing a little.

Skull’s purple eyes watch him with amusement, highlighted by his purple smokey eye, with heavy mascara on his eyelashes that somehow only draws the gaze more to his eyes.

He nips at the piercing on his bottom lip, linked with the one on his earlobe by a silver chain. Plump lips smeared with purple lipstick spread in a smug smile, emphasizing the teardrop tattoo under his left eye.

His purple hair points in every direction in a stylish mess of a haircut, a fringe falling above his left eye.

And really, it’s a lot of purple, but holy shit the guy is gorgeous.

How did that not come up even once during Lal’s briefings?

“I’m fine, I just swallowed wrong.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Colonnello straightens himself up, shakes his hand from the drink that spilled on him. He licks off the last of it, and oh, he knows that look in Skull’s eyes.

Good. Now they’re even.

“Sorry about that by the way,” Skull says. “These kind of accidents just keep happening around me, and I really just can’t figure out why.”

“Yeah,” Colonnello says, trying to play it off as casually as he can, “can’t imagine why either. I really don’t see anything that could provoke these kind of reactions.”

“Sure.”

“Listen, I’m a really smooth guy, alright?”

“I guess I’ll just have to take your words for it.”

“Fuck off.”

Skull snickers, something purposefully meant to rile him up further. Colonnello doesn’t take the bait, and bites the inside of his cheek to not laugh too.

Shit. Are they flirting? Colonnello can’t have that.

He has a reputation, and standards, and this guy... could very easily meet them, actually.

But he wears leather jumpsuits, chose purple as his defining color, and going on with the design on his helmet, octopuses of all things could get involved at some point.

And unfortunately Colonnello knows for certain it’s not just the symbol of the Carcassa famiglia.

“Oh shit, Immortal Skull?”

They both turn to the pair of teenagers, wide-eyed at the sight of Skull. Skull’s face lights up. He waves his hand excitedly, and poses for them to take a picture.

Colonnello raises his eyebrow.

Right. Stuntman shows, death defying stunts, famous guy.

He snorts. “Isn’t that cute? You have fans.”

Skull’s smile dims, and disappears entirely once the teenagers are on their way. “As a matter of fact, I do. It kind of comes together with being famous.”

“Yeah,” Colonnello scoffs, “famous for riding bikes.”

Skull doesn’t wince, not quite, but Colonnello catches his face twitching. He puts his free hand in his pocket, hunches his shoulders.

His voice is carefully neutral. “Yeah, for riding bikes. With hundreds upon hundreds of hours of training behind the handle, but no big deal right? Listen, can you...” he sighs deeply, meets his eye again “... just not? We literally just met? Or at least don’t come for the literal greatest passion of my life right off the bat, maybe? I don’t know man, just cut me some slack.”

“Sorry.”

Skull blinks. Colonnello blinks.

Well, that came out embarrassingly easily. And it did sound an awful lot sincere, if Skull’s more open face and posture is anything to go by.

Fucking hell, what is he doing? Playing nice? Is he actually trying to get on Skull’s good side?

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Colonnello watches the last of Skull’s hesitance disappears in his eyes, a smile slowly pulling at his lips until he grins at him again. “So, should we wrap this up? Or maybe we could keep meeting each other for a bit?”

Colonnello peers above his shoulder, at the sleek black and unfortunately purple motorbike.

Now, how much does he really want this ride?

“Sure,” he says, walking past him. He puts a leg over the bike, and sits comfortably on the back seat.

Maybe if he’s really good, Skull will let him drive it.

“Excuse you,” Skull splutters, “do you think I just let anyone ride my baby?”

“Excuse you,” Colonnello shots back, “take another good look at me and maybe you’ll realize I’m not anyone.”

“Right, you’re doing me a favor, is that it?” Skull crosses his arms on his chest, in what Colonnello supposes should have been an intimidating move. “I mean, you’re really hot alright, but I meet plenty of hot people on a daily basis. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Take another really good look at me, and maybe you’ll realize I’m a category of my own among hot people.”

Skull laughs, very clearly despite himself, the hard-to-get act nowhere to be seen. He chews on his lip a bit, but Colonnello knows he already won the argument.

“You just doesn’t have any will, do you?”

“Oh, hush.” Skull rolls his eyes, shoves him playfully. “Maybe I’m just weak for pretty people.”

Colonnello mournfully watches him puts his ugly helmet back on, and rethink his life choices. Really, this goddamned Curse just might have affected his tastes too.

“You know, I did hear things. And I must say I don’t understand.”

Skull throws his hands up in the air. “I know right? You’d think I would have gotten laid with, I don’t know, at least three of them by now. Well, minus Luce of course.” Colonnello gets whiplash. What even—? “No offense to you. I know you have a thing going on with Lal.”

“No, let’s stay focused. That’s where your priorities lie?”

Skull shrugs, takes his place in the driver seat. “I mean, in exchange of all this shit I didn’t sign up for? I think it would have been the barest fucking minimum.”

Colonnello bursts out laughing, because really, what else is there to do?

Not that he doesn’t strongly share the sentiment. He met the others too, and does vividly remember what they look like.

Skull revs the engine, and hell yeah, here they go.

Colonnello wraps his arms loosely around his waist, leans a bit too comfortably maybe against his back, rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Tell you what.”

Skull catches his eye in the rear view mirror. “I’m listening.”

“If you impress me really hard right now—”

“What, with my driving skills you mean? Is that supposed to be a challenge?”

“—and make me spend a really nice time with you,” Colonnello continues, ignoring him, “I just might do an exception for you to the “not on the first night” rule.”

Skull chuckles low in his throat, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He lowers his visor.

“This better be a promise, because I’ll hold you to that.”

The anime watchers only might not know that, because the anime did him so dirty, but Skull is straight up handsome.

I, for one, at the very least, find him very pretty, really handsome, and yes, straight up gorgeous. And it’s a hill I will die on, and I won’t hear any criticism on that.

Also I enjoyed myself writing this so much. Could you tell? Because this is my khr otp as of now, and I wish they’d be hundreds more fics about them for me to read.

Rarepair hell is, well, hell lmao.

Thank you for reading! Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr fanfic #flufftober 2020 #khr skull #khr colonnello #oh no they're hot #colonnello x skull #otp immortal soldier #guys guys guys #IMMORTAL SOLDIER #i found it that's what their ship name would be #i'm still open to propositions but let's be real #it's a VERY cool ship name i have there #also sex at first sight am i right #because yeah they do make out that day asdfghjkl #i said what i said

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sierraraeck · 4 years ago

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In Anticipation

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Partially inspired by 8x10 The Lesson. Spencer is stressing about meeting ‘Phone Booth Girl’ and Aundreya breaks down and gives him a pep talk. Story twelve.

Category: Some angst, some fluff.

Warnings: Cussing. Some self doubt I guess.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I love Alex Blake. I do. I want her, and all of the characters, in my fics but I think a 13 person BAU team is a bit excessive. She just doesn’t exactly fit with my series so unfortunately I’ve made the executive decision to leave her out. Sorry. I still love her though. =D

Four weeks and three days.

That’s how long it’d been since essentially cutting all ties with Reid.

Not only had myself and my beliefs reverted back to old ways, but so had Reid and I’s relationship. We were avoiding each other, only speaking when we had to for the case. Neither of us were too proud to allow our problems to get in the way of our job, which was probably the only reason that Hotch didn’t interrogate us or scold us for whatever was going on.

They were all profilers, so of course they had their theories, but I don’t think any one of them understood the magnitude of what was really going on. What had gone on. Not like Reid and I were particularly easy people to read anyway.

During this last case, something was up. Reid was acting strange and the rest of them seemed to be in on it, but I had no idea what was going on. I assumed it had to do with his mystery woman. There was a small chance they could have been talking about the new/old dynamic between Reid and I, but I doubted it.

I wanted to ask to be let in on whatever was going on, but thought better of it, remembering that I was no longer someone he confided in, and whatever it was he was doing was no longer any of my business or concern. But just because I wasn't going to ask them for answers to their faces, didn’t mean I wasn’t going to scope them out behind their backs.

Whenever I approached any door that I knew they were whispering behind, I would just casually stand there for an extra few seconds, seeing if there was anything I could pick up on. I would walk by the same door multiple times if I had to, slowing down each time, all in an effort to pick up just a couple of keywords. The majority of the time, all I got was a ‘Spencer’ here, a ‘she’ there. Super specific stuff. But I hit the jackpot when everyone had been out in the field while Reid and JJ stayed behind to work on the geographical profile.

“... Phone booth girl?” JJ asked. That quickly got my attention.

“She wants to meet,” Reid answered.

“Wait, you guys have never met? Aren’t you curious what she looks like?”

“It doesn’t matter what she looks like. I mean, she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me,” he replied. I knew it was a bunch of shit when he tried to tell me that he was just making phone calls to her about his headaches. “It’s just … What if she doesn’t like me?”

There was a moment of silence before I heard JJ sit down and ask in a caring but stern way, “Why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Because I’m weird,” Reid answered with no hesitation. “I slouch, my hair’s too long, my tie’s perpetually crooked.”

“Your hair’s fine,” JJ said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

Reid's voice was quiet, almost shy when responding, “Really? Thanks. My mom thinks it’s too long. So does my aunt Ethel.”

“Well, you’re not dating them,” JJ pointed out.

“I just - I - I just wouldn’t want to ruin something so special over something so trivial as looks.”

“I think you’re excited but afraid. Seeing her will only make the relationship better. Trust me,” JJ said with confidence. I agreed with her in spite of myself, even though I still felt bitter about the whole thing. “When does she want to meet?”

“Right when we get back.”

“Do it,” JJ encouraged. “Don’t psych yourself out.”

“We’ll see,” Reid responded with his classic hesitation, especially when it came to ‘Phone Booth Girl’ as JJ was now referring to her as.

I leaned against the door frame to announce myself, not wanting to risk being caught lurking outside the door. As expected, they both immediately stopped talking and looked up at me, like I was a parent that just caught her kids stealing cookies out of the cookie jar.

“Hey, how’s it coming?” I asked.

“Fine, fine,” JJ answered. She revealed the fakest smile, but with knowing eyes, followed by, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”

I just leaned back out of the room and pretended to go in the direction of the main conference room we’d initially set up in, but quickly turned to follow JJ into the bathroom.

I was so eager to know what she was going to say that the moment the door shut, I immediately asked, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“What do you know?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I know it’s been killing you not knowing what’s going on, and I’m not sure if anyone else has noticed or put it together, but I’m sure you’ve been eavesdropping or doing something to figure out what’s going on,” she didn’t even wait for my reaction before continuing, “He’s going to meet that girl he’s been talking to on the payphones.”

“I know,” I said, confirming her theory. I didn’t know what else to say, but I could tell there was something more to this conversation. “What is it?”

“He’s stressed,” she simply put.

“Right…” I said. I was confused as to where this was going.

“Look. All of us-”

“Who’s ‘all of us?’” I asked before she could proceed.

“Me, Derek, and Emily. And Penelope of course.” I nodded for her to continue. “We’ve been thinking about how things have been rocky with the two of you lately, and we don’t exactly know what happened, but we do know that Reid has some new woman in his life now and he needs our support.” Her words rushed out, as if she was worried that she wouldn’t be able to get all of the necessary information out before I … what? Stormed off?

“Okay…” I prompted. I still couldn’t figure out what she was getting at. I hadn’t made any snarky remarks or discouraged him from talking to her or seeing her. Hell! If it was up to him, I wouldn’t know jack shit.

“We noticed that, despite how much we all pressed for information or assured him that things would work out, he still seems on edge.” I leaned slightly forward. She was doing a real good job dragging this explanation out. She let out a heavy sigh of defeat, like if I couldn’t read her mind, it wasn’t worth it. “I just think we all need to support him.”

“Are you saying I don’t support him?”

“No that’s not what I’m saying, I’m just merely-”

“No. That is what you’re saying,” I said, somehow keeping my voice normal and neutral, but cocking my head to one side. “But I do support him. I haven’t made any efforts otherwise. Plus, he doesn’t really seem like he wants me in his business and I respect those boundaries.”

“Okay,” she said a little harshly, eyes wide and arms crossed.

I could tell she wasn’t convinced so I followed with, “Seriously, JJ. I don’t have a problem with his personal choices. I don’t care what he decides to do, or who he decides to talk to in his free time.”

“Exactly. You don’t care,” she huffed. What the hell?

“And you don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” this caught her off guard and I could tell her face switched to one of concentration, profiling concentration, so I finished with, “I’m fine with his choices, he’s fine with his choices, everything’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about, he has my support or respect or whatever it is you came in here looking for.”

“Great,” she said, obviously still incredulous and exited the bathroom.

I followed right after, following her into the conference room to catch up on the case.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I had a tough time focusing because I was paying more attention to Reid and mulling over JJ’s words, trying to find hidden meanings behind them. But before I could further my silent investigations, the vital question to all of this jumped into my head.

Do I support him in this?

I couldn’t tell. I felt like my mixed emotions balanced each other out so that I was just feeling … nothing. Thinking about him with another girl didn’t trigger any reactions, and neither did thinking about him sitting at home alone.

On one hand, I was still hurt and pissed at him for what he did. He was literally calling a girlfriend before and after sleeping with me while helping me over a major obstacle. He made me believe he cared about me, then had sex with me, then basically left. He’d broken my trust, which was very hard to earn, and impossible to regain.

On the other hand, I figured at least one of us should come out of the whole mess happy. Why not have it be him considering I don’t deserve it and am probably destined to continue my path of pain and loneliness? Or I’d wreck whatever good situation lies ahead of me. Either way, he deserves happiness, and I’m fairly certain he is not going to find it with me, so he might as well find it with her. Whoever ‘her’ is.

So I didn’t know. Did I support him? Did I not support him? Was I just a neutral third party that couldn’t make up her mind whose opinion was also irrelevant to the matter? Who knows.

For someone who doesn’t like to dig too deep into her psyche, I’d sure been spending a lot of time holding a shovel as of late. The two sides of my brain played tug-of-war while I was trying to concentrate on saving lives, but luckily, each side got tired and gave up allowing me to focus on the case, but leaving me no where closer to an answer than I was hours ago.

I continued to go about my work as usual, not going out of my way to avoid him, and not going out of my way to see him. We finally wrapped up our case and boarded the jet, leaving everyone drained due to the late nights the past few days.

I, however, refused to sleep on the jet. I never got any good sleep, and then I couldn’t sleep later, and I didn’t like the idea of the plane crashing down and me not being fully awake and ready to deal with that. Plus, as an ex-hunted criminal, I didn’t like the idea of being vulnerable with a bunch of FBI agents around, even if they were a part of my team.

Clearly Reid didn’t like the idea of sleeping on the jetride back this time either, because he was sitting in a corner by himself with a cup of coffee and a book. I could tell he wasn’t as relaxed or as focused as he usually was, because it took him longer than usually to flip through the pages. After spending nearly a year doing a book swap, I got pretty used to the rhythm of his page turning.

It’s because he’s stressed, I reminded myself. He is still worried about meeting that girl, and according to JJ and company, he ‘needs our support’ and you haven’t been too sharing on that front. Maybe you should talk to him.

At the same time, though, I don’t owe him anything. He hasn’t approached me about it, hasn’t shared any information with me whatsoever, so why should I cross that line? And what good would it do anyway? It’s not like anything I say is going to make a difference.

But what if it does? What if, even though I’m trying to push him out, not give a single damn what he thinks of me anymore, he still does? Could he still care what I think, what I have to say about... all this? I was basically his ‘best friend’ for a while there, and maybe after everything got complicated, he feels … bad? Well, obviously Aundreya, but like bad in the sense that he feels like he can’t move on without me telling him it’s okay or something? He’ll probably continue to beat himself up over it and then he’ll never be able to enjoy himself and will just stress himself out and wallow in guilt.

Not ‘probably’. You know him better than that. That’s exactly what’s happening, and that’s got to be what JJ was getting at.

But what if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if I just make him feel worse? And why should I care if he’s worried or not?

Come on, Chambers. You’re trying to be better and you know it would mean a lot if you just talked to him.

I’d made up my mind.

I was sitting with my own book and cup of warm tea and wanted to laugh at how, even though we weren’t doing it together, we were literally still doing the same thing we always did. I got up and made a fresh cup of tea, careful not to spill any or cross contaminate, then I set it down next to mine on the small table right beside the couch.

I took a deep breath, and with my book still open and in my hand, walked over to where Reid was sitting before I could talk myself out of it. Without a word or tearing my eyes from my own book, I casually picked up Reid’s coffee mug, then turned around and walked back to the couch. I sat down and put his mug next to the other two. I refused to turn around and look at his reaction. Instead, I just waited for his presence to appear across the couch.

It came soon enough, which I knew it would because he’s kinda a caffeine addict. He reached for his coffee but I slid it across the table toward me so he couldn’t get it. I quickly slid the fresh cup of tea I’d made across the table, practically pushing it into his hand, the whole time continuing to look at my book. I stifled a laugh when he picked up the tea, examined it, then made a pouty face. I took a sip of my own, then set it, and the book, down on the table.

I sat with my back leaning against the arm of the couch, my legs criss crossed in front of me, facing Spencer head on who was sitting in nearly the same position. Finally looking up at him I whispered, “It’s going to be okay, you know.”

He slowly looked up at me but didn’t say anything, so I continued with, “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. And it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it with me. I just wanted to tell you that she’s gonna love you. She probably already does.”

We sat there in silence for a while, and I was about to pick my book back up again, thinking that he wouldn’t say anything, but then he said, “I just don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?” I inquired.

“Because of …” he trailed off but I followed his train of thought.

“Don’t worry about me. It happened. It’s over. I don’t want you guilt tripping yourself out of happiness. I am not worth that,” I whispered, careful to keep my voice low enough the others wouldn’t wake. This wasn’t exactly a conversation I wanted anyone else to be a part of.

“You are worth that-”

“I’m not.”

“-and I do feel guilty-”

“I know. And I appreciate that but there is nothing either of us can do now except move on. So do that. Move on. This girl, whoever she is-”

“Her name is Maeve,” he blurted. It stopped me right in my tracks. I think I was the first person he gave her name to.

I quickly recovered, “Maeve. She seems right for you. She’s obviously smart, she’s helping the FBI solve cases and she’s keeping up with you, and you, you seem … you seem … you’re happy. You get that goofy smile on your face when you talk about her. When you think about her. When other people talk about her. I know it’s in your nature to worry, but seriously, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“What else?” I asked. There was more but I knew he felt awkward opening up to me about it because … well.

“Huh?”

“What else is going through your mind? I know you need to get something off of your chest and remember, we used to tell each other everything before things got complicated. That wouldn’t be a bad place to return to…” I offered, hopeful he’d be okay with that.

He gave me a small smile and said, “I’d like that.”

It was odd but I was relieved. I don’t know why there would have been any pressure on me to begin with, but I did feel relieved. More and more of the bitterness I felt was dissipating every day, and was continually replaced with the feeling of missing the one person I’d opened up to the most. I wanted that back. I needed that back. “Great. So what else?”

“It’s just - we’ve never met and she wants to meet.”

“Okay, that’s exciting, right?” I asked, testing the waters.

“I mean, yes.”

“But…”

“But I’m nervous. I want her to like me and I’m afraid she won’t once she meets me,” he expressed.

“Spencer,” I started, leaning over the one cushion in between us, “you are an amazing guy. She already likes your personality, and considering how long you’ve been talking to each other, you’re already past all of the small talk too. You’ve already completed all of the hard stuff, and now you just get to enjoy the easy little things, like her hair, her eyes, her smile. As for her, she gets to enjoy your hair,” I ruffled it up a bit, “your eyes, and your smile.” He fixed his hair and flashed me that very same goofy grin I was talking about, golden eyes twinkling. It was honestly a shame he didn’t smile more. “There you go. Flash her one of those and she’s done for,” I chuckled, “Plus, you are a phenomenal judge of character. If you believe that she is worth taking a bullet for, I’d trust that gut feeling. And like I told you when we were first starting to get to know each other: I’ve met a lot of people, like a lot of people, and you are by far one of the coolest. If she doesn’t see that, it is ultimately her loss and her problem,” I concluded. It still hurt knowing that I was encouraging him to continue on with the relationship that almost ended ours, but I could tell it was what he wanted, and who was I to get in the way of that? I had no reason to feel spiteful toward Maeve, she hadn’t done anything to me, and besides, she seemed like she would be exponentially better for him than I could ever be. I was going to have to start coming to terms with that and getting over it. Getting over him. But at least I knew we could start rebuilding our friendship and that would have to suffice.

“You don’t know how much it means to hear you say that,” he looked down at his fiddling thumbs. “I’ve just been sick this whole time that in doing this I would really lose you forever and I didn’t want that.”

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You should do what makes you happy.”

He nodded and I could visibly see the weight being lifted off of his shoulders. I was glad I could be the one to do that.

He took a sip of his tea and scrunched his nose up. This time I had to laugh.

“Oh come on. It is not that bad,” I rolled my eyes.

“It’s just not coffee,” he complained.

“You don’t drink coffee. You drink caffeinated sugar water with a dash of coffee,” I accused. He just shook his head and set his tea down about to reach for his other mug again.

“Nuh-uh,” I scolded. The last thing he needed was to be over-hyper and jacked up before meeting this girl. Maeve. “Tell you what,” I got up from my seat and grabbed the sugar and honey, “Usually I only put a little bit of one of these in my drink, but because you have the taste buds of a five-year-old child, I will break down.”

He smiled at me and quickly poured a kidney-failing amount of each into his tea. I put my palm on my forehead as he swirled it around and took a sip.

“See. That is much better,” he commented happily. “You should invest in adding more to yours.”

“Oh no. I am quite alright, thank you.”

“You know you want to.”

“Actually, there’s this really cool thing called blood sugar levels, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of them,” I teased, “but I’m all good leaving mine where they’re at. I wouldn’t want to induce a heart attack.”

He laughed, and I laughed, and it felt good to be laughing together again.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked.

“We’re sure! You go and have fun. The rest of us will finish up for you,” Emily said, and Derek, JJ, and I all nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay. Thank you,” he said, turning toward the parking lot.

“He’s in a much better mood about this than he was before,” Derek acknowledged.

“Yeah that’s true,” Emily agreed, “I wonder what changed his mind.”

It was more like a statement than a question, all three of their heads turning to look at me. I shrugged and feigned confusion, “I have no idea. Maybe the stars are aligning,” I said sarcastically, raising my eyebrows.

Derek rolled his eyes and said, “At least we can always count on you.”

“To what?”

“To be an irritatingly helpful smartass.”

“Wow,” I put a hand to my chest in appreciation, my voice becoming velvety as I wiped away a non-existent tear, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so accurately described.”

We chuckled and entered the office, ready to file some closing paperwork.

Penelope met us at the doors, hugging us all and offering us special drinks she’d been practicing making while we were gone.

“Wait where’s Spen - wait! Is he with Phone Booth Girl!” she cheered, not even waiting for a response. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” She giggled then turned to Derek, “How come you don’t take me out anymore?”

“Oh, baby girl, we have so much more fun staying in,” he returned, smug.

She stepped closer to him and turned her tone from pouty to sexy, “How could I forget? It could have been because I was near blacking ou-”

“Woah!” I interjected. “Some of us would actually like to sleep tonight without the graphic details.”

“That’s the problem. I’m not one for sleeping,” Garcia purred.

“Dammit. I asked for that one,” I shook my head.

Both Penelope and Derek placed a hand on one of my shoulders, and I’m not shitting you, said at the same time, “Yeah, you did.”

They walked away as I knit my brows together and turned toward JJ and Emily. I put one hand out, gesturing at their backs and mouthed ‘what?’ JJ shrugged and Emily just shook her head in amused disbelief.

As the night was coming to a close and we were all about to leave, a sudden crashing came from the stairs and elevator. We were halted by a stampede of police officers, weapons drawn, barging into the bullpen.

“Everyone put your hands up.”

We quickly complied, looking around at each other for silent answers. There were only the seven of us in the office, but it was the eighth they were looking for.

A woman, probably 5’8” with short brown hair demanded, “Where is Doctor Spencer Reid?”

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