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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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skellebonez · 3 years

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I AM SORRY FOR THIS SKELLE BUT I MUST: 5 (kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here),6 (let's make a deal, shall we?) and 41 (can you teach me how to do that) with the demon bull fam and mk with a little hint of 64 (I may have eaten seven of them already). NOW GO HAM MY DUDE

Oh I had way too much fun with this one. I took S2E4 (spoilers mentioned for that!) and some tweets made by one of the show producers on the same day as fuel for a very silly idea I had. I don't write what can be considered "Crack treated seriously" (or at least semi-seriously, this is not a 100% serious fic) often but when I do I go hard. This is more focused on MK and others than SpicyNoodles so it's a bit more gen fic than a full on ship fic as well.

Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here/Let's make a deal, shall we?/Can you teach me how to do that?/I may have eaten seven of them already.

"Red..." MK started off slowly, watching as his boyfriend's face flushed and twisted in embarrassment. "Can you tell me why your mother showed up at my apartment and used her wind vortex thing to teleport us here without an explanation? And then left us in your..." He looked around, noting that aside from the excessively large throne and two smaller thrones beside it this room looked like a... "Living room? On a couch?"

"I can-" Red Son started, raising a hand before pausing a frowning deeply. "Actually, no, I can't explain. This is just weird, even by my parent's standards. I have no idea what is going on, but since you're still here..." He shrugged with a hopeful smile, shaky through the uncertainty. "Maybe it's not bad? I mean, if Mother was truly upset or wanted to do something bad surely she would have not left us to our own devices. Maybe she’s... uh... happy I finally have a boyfriend?”

At the pointed raise of an eyebrow from MK that hopeful smile faltered a bit. Happy Red Son had a boyfriend for the first time in a couple centuries? Under different circumstances he wouldn't doubt that! Happy when that boyfriend was MK?

Oh he did doubt that.

He knew that they shouldn't have been sneaking around the way they had been. It had made sense at first, two people on opposite sides of a feud lasting centuries who discovered they actually enjoyed spending time together more than fighting each other. One who decided he very much would rather not follow through with any kind of domination and see his family hurt, who realized "actually my sworn nemesis isn't so bad", and another who decided "my life is already weird enough, why not give this befriending my enemy thing a shot".

And then one thing lead to another and before they knew it their secret friend meet up became a secret boyfriend meet up. They'd managed to keep everything under wraps for a while (except from Mei because, well... she was his best friend! He couldn't not tell someone and she would have found out fast if he wasn't obvious, and she had quickly become a mutual source of support for both of them), though MK knew Pigsy and the others knew something was up. They didn't question him, though, aside from the occasional good natured jab. "Wow MK, you seem happy today. Got any plans?" and that sort of thing. They seemed to trust him to make his own decisions, as long as he was happy and healthy and eventually told them. (Sun Wukong, however, may have caught in a little when he jokingly asked if MK had gotten a boyfriend and MK had choked on his drink. He never brought it up specifically after that but he was smart. Too smart.)

Red Son, on the other hand, was fantastic at keeping secrets when he tried. Or MK thought he was... the last few months gave no indication that either of his parents had discovered their little sneaky rendezvous. Then Princess Iron Fan broke into his apartment and, well, here they are. Clearly something had gone wrong somewhere along the line.

Before MK could follow through with any questions of whether or not there could be a fate worse than instant death that involved lulling him into a false sense of security, the two men froze at the sound of quickly approaching voices.

“Could this not have been done another way, my dear?”

“Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here, you know that. Noodle Boy is not that gullible, contrary to what we first believed.”

Ah... shit... Red Son’s parents.

Mk quickly ran through all the possessions he had in his apartment and wondered if he had time to text Mei or Pigsy the world’s fastest will and testament and if that would be legally binding. He just hoped he had something for Pigsy to handle the Phantom Orderer they'd had for the last year.

They always ordered on the app and prepaid and managed to leave him a sizeable tip in his tuk-tuk after he dropped off the food at whatever random location they indicated.

"Good," PIF's voice rang clear, far faster than he could even attempt to pull out his phone, and MK turned to see that she was casually lounging on the shoulder of the Demon Bull King. She jumped down, her wind lightening her fall so much so that she barely made a sound when her feet touched ground. "You've made yourself comfortable."

MK couldn't bring himself to move, as much as he very dearly wanted to run away as quickly as possible. Yes, he was The Monkie Kid and had progressed far enough that he could probably escape without much problem. Yes, he and DBK had had an understanding after the White Bone Spirit and Lunar New Year Festival (though he still didn't know if PIF ever found out about that one). Yes, Princess Iron Fan had shown little interest in him before and had even worked beside him with no complaints (she didn't even care enough to attack during the Food Wars thing!). But that was all before she apparently found out he was dating her son behind her back while they were technically still enemies.

He was glad at that moment that she had grabbed them before they went to get lunch... his stomach was doing back flips that would make a gymnast jealous.

"Uh, yes Miss-Mrs-Muh-M- Princess Iron... Fan?" MK couldn't help but stutter awkwardly, holding onto the hem of his jacket and worrying it as he tried to keep his composure. He looked beside him, watching as Red sat straighter and kept an even expression on his face that he couldn't quite place. His hair seemed to spark softly.

Though she raised a brow at this, PIF didn't comment on that at all. Instead she made her way to the other couch across from them as opposed to what was clearly supposed to be her throne, leaning forward right her elbows on her knees and her fingers laced together in front of her. DBK stopped behind her, seemingly content to stay standing.

"Noodle Boy... you prefer to go by MK, is that correct?" She started, and he nodded slowly in confused response. "Hmn... so. You've been dating my son for quite some time. Many months... no, a bit over a year if I am not mistaken in how long his behavior has changed." 'Oh shit' went MK's brain. "You must be quite serious, if you're willing to go through so much just to see each other. Late night meetings. Secret hideaways. Sneaking onto Flower Fruit Mountain, even." 'Oh SHIT' it repeated in horror. "That's quite the dedication to show toward anyone... I hate to admit it, but I am quite impressed." 'OH SH-wait what?'

"Bw-huh?" Was what MK managed out, half a sound that was almost a word and half a squeak of confusion.

"The fact I myself remained oblivious until only a few weeks ago is quite something. Let's make a deal, shall we?" She continued, sitting back straight and looking like the proud Princess she was and not like a woman sitting on a couch that looked comically small in front of her enormous husband. "You and Red Son no longer have to hide your relationship from us and in exchange..." she paused, as if relishing the building tension between herself and the couple before her. "You will come over at least once a week so we can get to actually know you properly."

MK froze. Red Son froze even more.

Then his entire head lit ablaze as he jumped up and gestured at his mother with a gaping mouth. "Th-that's it!? I-I was... I was RIGHT!?"

PIF barely reacted to this, merely lounging sideways as she put her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her cheek on her hand.

"Whatever you were right about, I suppose you were. But yes," she shrugged, honestly looking... kinda happy? "Has this been about a year ago I perhaps would not have understood what you saw in Nood-MK. But I can see how happy you have been lately, and there's something about him that is like... what did you say he was like, darling?" She turned to DBK, who shrugged himself with an unreadable expression.

"A ball of sunshine given human form."

... that was not what MK ever expected to hear from the Demon Bull King's mouth...

"Yes, that's it," she nodded as if this was completely normal and ignored how Red Son flopped back down onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I'd hate to admit it, but you've grown on us through out sparse interactions. Somehow. And we have been eagerly waiting for the day we could finally welcome someone into our son's life. So what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

She seemed... serious. MK may not know her that well, but it was clear to anyone when she wasn't being so.

"Uh... o-ok? Sure?" MK said softly, nodding in amazement as DBK and PIF actually smiled at this.

This was the strangest day of his life, beating our every single demon fight and even the day he got the Monkey King's staff. But he'd take this strangeness over the alternative 500 times over.

"Excellent," DBK nodded himself, there was a lot of that about. "That seems to have worked out n-"

Everyone paused at a loud grumble echoed the room, all turning to Red Son as he flared up in embarrassment this time.

"Don't look at me like that, we were supposed to eat half an hour ago and I am starving," Red Son grumbled as he sat up, not looking anyone in the eye. "I don't suppose we could. Eat now? Please?"

Despite the situation, MK couldn't help but smile at his pouting.

"I could bring us some food from Pigsy's?" MK offered in an attempt to contribute. Something. "I mean, I know Red likes it and you kinda seemed to like it the one time you tried it and... uh... yeah."

"Actually... I may have eaten seven of them already..." PIF admitted, looking away in embarrassment. "l've tried not to give into the temptation, but your father's noodles from the Food Wars were so... I just can't resist ordering some secretly after 5 or so weeks!"

"So you're the phantom orderer!" MK gasped out in shock, but after a moment he frowned and rubbed the back of his head. He had a bit of an idea. "Well... I could... make some for us instead?" He ammended his offered softly. "I may not make it exactly like Pigsy does, but I can get pretty close as long as you have the ingredients! And you wouldn't have to worry about me going there and coming back! We can eat like. Immediately!"

"I think that sounds acceptable," PIF said with a nod as she stood, but MK could see a bit of excitement sparkling in her usually cold eyes. "Come, Red Son. I need to discuss some upgrades the Bull Clones have been asking for with you. Your father can assist him in the kitchen until we are done."

Red looked over at MK and only stood to follow his mother once he nodded, giving his father a pointed look before exited the room. MK, in the meantime, looking up at DBK with a gulp and followed him as he lead the way toward their kitchen.

It was... well, bigger than he was used to. But pretty normal, regal size and decor aside. And it seemed, once he was given the nod of ok from his host (and wasn't that a bizarre thing, DBK and PIF being his hosts on a home visit to his boyfriend's parents... he was going to need to get used to that) he checked the fridge and counters and found he had just about everything he needed to make what he had in mind.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" DBK asked after a moment, startling MK into nearly dropping the sauce he needed for the broth. "Not the recipe itself, just..." He gestured to the counter. "Red Son has a bit of a proclivity toward cooking and he's been trying to get me involved, but we've never cooked anything like. That."

His words were awkward and stilted, but MK could tell he was trying. The same way he could tell PIF wasn't kidding with her offer. They just seemed to... want to get to know him as a potential... son-in-law... huh.

"Sure, but you're gonna want to shrink down a bit for this."

Lunch turned out amazing and, while awkward (much like most of the day)... it was nice not to have to hide their dating for once. And Red actually seemed pretty happy! Though he learned quickly that the Monkey King was still a bit of an (understandably) sore subject that was best avoided. For now.

Maybe not forever though.

(When PIF very not subtly dropped him and Red Son both off inside Pigsy's Noodles after their lunch, the only response he got was a "oh, so they finally found out huh? Looks like things went well" from Pigsy and Tang. Maybe he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was...)

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #mk #qi xiaotian #red son #spicynoodleshipping #dbk and pif #pif may be one of least favorite characters in the show for a few reasons #but even she can have good moments in my fics from time to time #crack treated seriously #i love that i can use that tag #ship fic but only just

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lilydalexf · 4 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made. I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years. We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends. It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media. I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs! When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’ We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her. I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones. Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it? You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable. Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was. What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her. Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible). Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative. I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).

Really, RivkaT? A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy. I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either. It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued. I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic. Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.” And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #mustangsally

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ladylouoflothlorien · 4 years

Text

One of the boys

summary: Hobbits are terribly sexist and have incredibly traditional views on gender roles. Bilba Baggins is a female Hobbit – who by normal standards should have married 10 years ago – and she’s just about done with The Shire and everyone in it. Gandalf gives her an out, and it’s an out she was never going to refuse, no matter how dangerous it may prove to be. Alternatively: my excuse to make Bilbo and Thorin lesbians.

pairing: fem!bilbo x fem!thorin

warnings: I just want to give a little warning for themes like sexism, misogyny etc. I also just want to say that there is unintentional misgendering on the part of the female dwarves. I want to clarify that in this fic, the gender-swapped dwarves are all cisgender, and the dwarves perpetuate the idea that they’re all male when they’re in the company of outsiders (but I still thought it worth mentioning just in case this could trigger someone ❤️)

word count: 3135

Bilba Baggins shifted uncomfortably on her pony. She still wasn’t used to riding Myrtle, and she certainly wasn’t used to life on the road. The Company had only been travelling for a week and a half, but the female Hobbit already found herself missing her bed and her armchair and her bookshelf and her pantry. Despite her sore behind and empty stomach, Bilba was glad to be with Thorin and his company of dwarves, and the Hobbit was proud to join them on their quest to reclaim their homeland.

When Bilba looked ahead to the horizon she noticed with some surprise that the sky was getting dark. Well, that explained the relative quiet – the dwarves were always less rowdy when they were hungry and ready to rest for the night, though she highly doubted that any of them ever felt as bone-shatteringly exhausted at the end of the day as she did. Her gaze shifted from the skyline to the two dwarves riding in front of her, and Bilba smiled to herself as she thought back to when the dwarves had first tumbled into her Smial.

Bilba collapsed against the inside of her front door as soon as she’d shut it. A sigh escaped her as she dropped the heavy basket she’d been carrying on the floor. The only thing that had given her enough strength to stay at the market long enough to complete all her shopping had been Gandalf’s promise of strange guests to her Smial that night. Gandalf. She’d hardly recognised him at first, but she knew he’d been her mother’s close friend, and it was nice to see him again after such a long time. Even if her memories of him were a little faded.

A groan left her lips as she pushed herself off the door and bent down to pick up her basket once again, and despite her best efforts to keep her mind blank she began to replay the interactions she’d had at the market that day.

“My dearest Bilba-”

“I’ve already asked you not to call me that.”

They continued, unperturbed.

“My dearest Bilba, you haven’t invited me to dinner yet, and I-”

“Please, call me Mistress Baggins.”

“- I would be most disappointed if you didn’t.”

There was a short silence, and Bilba, desperate to be left alone with her shopping, had decided to swallow her pride for the sake of peace.

“Y-yes, well… I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.”

He seemed – regrettably – highly encouraged by her lack of scathing denial, and seemed to think her reply somehow invited further conversation.

“Ah, my dear, I understand. You must have so much to do without a man about Bag End, but never you fear! I am sure the situation will be sorted soon.”

Bilba blinked owlishly at him. He apparently thought he was being charming. She clutched her basket tighter, knuckles whitening, and could not help but feel repulsed.

“Right… well, forgive me, but I must be getting on. My pantry is rather bare.”

“Of course! It is admirable that you take your womanly duties so seriously. Good day, Bilba!”

An invitation to a private meal; the first stage in Hobbit courting where the one being courted reciprocated the attentions they were being shown. Apparently, a long time ago, the courting hadn’t been gender-specific, but now the cooking of the private meal was entirely the domain of female hobbits.

“Disgraceful, is what it is.” Bilba muttered to herself as she shuffled to her pantry to put away her purchases.

Bilba had been approached by no less than three male Hobbits at the market asking when they would be invited over to Bag End of an evening. A fourth had approached in an attempt to present her with a frankly gaudy bouquet of flowers that she’d artfully dodged. As if that hadn’t been enough, she’d also received near countless comments from older, married Hobbits – both male and female alike – telling her how lucky she was at her time of life to have so many suitors, but that she’d better not wait too long to finally accept one. The biological clock was ticking, and all that.

Those were the comments that really got under her skin. Bilba was no fool. She knew that most eligible female Hobbits were married by the time they reached forty. Bilba had already reached fifty. Still, she didn’t think that gave anyone the right to comment on the apparent lack of use she was making of her womb. Just because having children was the done thing didn’t mean that she had any intention of doing it. Still, it was safer to let them think what they would, and say what they wanted with no corrections. The longer they all believed she actually wanted to mother children, the longer they’d believe she actually had any interest in marrying – which she did not. In fact, Bilba Baggins had no interest in men at all.

Bilba reached the pantry, and she scowled as she set the food out on the correct shelves. There was another reason, she knew, as to why at 50 she still had so many eager suitors – other than the love they all professed to feel. Bilba was a Baggins. The Baggins of Bag End, and that came with reputation, social status, and wealth, which no doubt all of her suitors couldn’t wait to get their grubby little hands on.

Yes, Bilba thought, hands on hips, I think I should like an adventure very much. Anything to get away from The Shire for a time.

Four hours later, her first guest arrived. A dwarf? Gandalf hadn’t mentioned anything about dwarves. Still, she welcomed this ‘Dwalin’ as politely as she could. He was eyeing her up, like he wasn’t sure what to make of her, but when she led him through to the dining room – where the table was laden with a spread fit for a Hobbit feast – his standoffish aura had completely melted away.

Eleven more showed up in quick succession, and when Gandalf greeted her she’d jokingly told him he was lucky his companions were arriving under the cover of darkness.

“I’m not sure I’d be quite able to explain away the scandal if my neighbours caught sight of twelve male dwarves turning up on my doorstep.”

Some of the dwarves exchanged looks at that, which she caught but didn’t understand. Perhaps dwarven culture was so different that they didn’t understand why there would possibly be a scandal.

Bilba hung back a little as the dwarves in her home ate, drank, and talked rather boisterously. She didn’t begrudge them their merriment, in fact she enjoyed watching so many people so happy all together, but it was a little too much for her to take when she’d essentially been living in self-imposed isolation since her parents had passed.

Rather lost in her thoughts, Bilba didn’t immediately register that there had been yet another knock on her door. The sudden, startling silence of her present company dragged her back to reality, and when Gandalf helpfully – albeit rather dramatically – announced ‘he is here’ she was able to infer that there was someone at the door and she went to open it.

The door swung open and oh, but if that wasn’t the most glorious mane of dark and silver hair she’d ever set eyes upon. Bilba could hardly be surprised by the more than slightly disappointed twist in her stomach when one of the younger-looking dwarves yelled ‘uncle’ from behind her.

So this is also a male dwarf. She was disappointed, but made sure to keep her expression clear. It wouldn’t do to accidentally offend her guest just because she’d hoped he might actually be a female dwarf.

As Bilba stepped aside to allow her newest guest to enter, she remembered what she’d been told about female dwarves - that for other races they were sometimes considered indistinguishable from men, as both men and women grew facial hair. It occurred to the Hobbit that she should not have assumed all her guests were male, but then again none of them had corrected her, and she had also overheard them all calling each other ‘he’ and ‘brother’. It seemed she’d been spared the embarrassment of mistaking their gender, for which she silently sent a prayer of thanks to her Lady Yavanna.

This new dwarf ignored the call of what must be his nephew and passed through the doorway into Bag End, addressing Gandalf first before anyone – which Bilba found rather rude, as she was the host, and therefore was owed an introduction.

“Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn’t’ve found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

Bilba was struck by his words, and instantly rose to the defence of her home as any self-respecting Hobbit would.

“Ma- There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark, I put it there myself.”

She turned to look at Gandalf, mouth hanging open for a moment. In her stunned silence, Gandalf snatched the opportunity to introduce her to her guest, the sneak, for he knew she would not risk being impolite to a stranger. Still, she would definitely be having words with Gandalf when she got the chance, very strong words in fact, about why you should never deface the door of a Hobbit Hole… or any door for that matter! A wizard should certainly know better!

“Bilba Baggins. Allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“So, this is the Hobbit.”

Dear lord, Bilba thanked the stars this dwarf was male, for she would surely otherwise have swooned under the intensity of that gaze… and he called her ‘Hobbit’! She was used to hearing tell of outsiders only knowing to use the word ‘Halfling’, unaware of quite how rude they were being. She was rather glad she wouldn’t have to correct him.

Then, unfortunately, the dwarf had to go and ruin her first impression by thoroughly intimidating and interrogating her, even going as far as walking around her in a slow circle – the nerve – and then he and his company completely ignored her! They were in her home. She had prepared a feast for them, the least she deserved was the typical respect shown to a hostess. Honestly, if she wasn’t so desperate to leave The Shire, and if they didn’t come with Gandalf’s personal recommendation, she would’ve been seriously reconsidering accompanying them on whatever little adventure they were going on.

Bilba avoided them for a little while, allowing their apparent leader to settle in and eat his fill. She finally re-joined them when they started talking about their quest, although she stayed hovering behind Gandalf and not actually sitting down with them at the table. Not that there were any free seats left for her, had she decided she wanted to.

It was all very dramatic, especially when Gandalf somehow pulled an old key from who knows where. She knew she should’ve been paying more attention to what exactly was being said, but it was a little difficult when she felt so thoroughly excluded from the conversation. Still, one sentence stuck out to her more than most, and she found herself answering it without thinking.

“That’s why we need a burglar.”

“Hmm. A good one, too. An expert, I’d imagine.”

“And are you?”

Bilba physically turned to look behind her at that, because this dwarf couldn’t possibly be implying that she, Bilba Baggins, was a burglar.

“Am I what?” She asked, giving this ungrateful guest a chance to explain himself, for she was nothing but civil and she was determined to remain so.

Unfortunately, another dwarf who – bless him – had an ear trumpet and therefore could not be blamed for his confusion, cried out in gladness.

“She said she’s an expert!”

Bilba had to set things straight.

“Me? N-no, no no no no, I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!”

Unless you counted the conkers she’d taken from someone else’s garden at age 18 and never been blamed for, or the last cookie from her mother’s plate when she was 20 – which her father had been blamed for, at least initially – or the poor flowers that Lobelia had planted in her front garden in entirely the wrong place. The sweet things were never going to survive like that, Bilba was merely rescuing them…. well, perhaps she had stolen a few things, but never anything substantial, and she certainly wanted these strangers to know it. What fantastical lies had Gandalf been feeding them about her?

Balin – she remembered his name because he had been one of the more polite members of the party - seemed disappointed.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Miss Baggins, she’s hardly burglar material.”

Well now, that should have been a compliment… so why did it sound like the reverse?

Another dwarf, Dwalin, spoke next. She remembered his name only because he had been the first to show up at her door.

“Ay, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.”

Bilba felt suddenly cold. Was her place on their adventure only secure if she was to be their burglar? Would they leave her behind now they knew she wasn’t? The dwarves around the table started bickering amongst themselves, and Bilba could not catch a word any of them were saying. She had no idea what to do, but it seemed that Gandalf did. The room darkened suddenly and Gandalf – already so much taller than everyone present – seemed to grow taller still.

“Enough! If I say Bilba Baggins is a Burglar, then a Burglar she is!”

Whatever strange power he had called upon melted away once he had everyone’s attention, but still he continued, and Bilba had to admit his reasoning did make sense as to why a Hobbit would be a good choice, which meant his reasoning for choosing her was also sensible, as she very much doubted that Gandalf would easily find another Hobbit who would even consider going on an adventure.

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And while the Dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Miss Baggins. There is a lot more to her than appearances suggest.”

Once again that evening what should have been a compliment felt like an insult, and Bilba was rather beginning to dislike the manners of her present company, Gandalf included. She was still seething about the mark on her freshly painted door.

“And she’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know!”

Well, that was more like a true compliment. Perhaps Bilba could endeavour to forgive the wizard. In time.

“Including herself.”

No, he had once again disgraced himself. How dare he? He had no idea the strength she had to possess to get through even a single day in The Shire whilst trying to be true to who she was. Bilba Baggins knew her own worth, thank you very much.

“You must trust me on this.”

Bilba looked from Gandalf to Thorin, who seemed to be weighing the wizard’s words carefully. After a pause, he leant back in his chair and shook his head once.

“No Gandalf. I will not be responsible for Miss Baggins in the wild. She has no experience, no skill with a blade or with burglary. I do not want her death on my hands, for die she surely will. She will be of no use to us, we must find some other burglar for our quest.”

Bilba’s mouth hung open, and she stared at the back of Thorin’s head in stunned silence for just long enough that he had settled his position in his chair again and seemed to be preparing to move on to another topic when she finally found her voice.

“How dare you?”

Her first words were barely louder than a whisper, but the outrage they bore carried across the room. Every dwarf turned to look at her.

“Did you not hear everything Gandalf has said? You need a Hobbit, and you won’t find another willing to go with you, that I can guarantee.”

Bilba’s eyes glanced to Gandalf, who was looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes, which only served to irritate her further. He shouldn’t find amusement in her distress, the nerve of it.

“I could be of great use to you, not that you’ve bothered to find out anything about me other than that I have a well-stocked pantry!”

Some of the dwarves already looked vaguely chastised as she stared them down, hands moving to her hips, but she was by no means done. Bilba finally had an outlet for all of the aggravation she’d built up over the course of the day, and by golly she was going to let them have it all.

“I have taught myself many things here with my father’s books! I can speak and read Sindarin, I can heal many different ailments, I am a very learned Hobbit! But perhaps this will make you want to take me even less! I have heard it all, had all the old quotes used against me by family members who expected me to have mothered at least 4 young Hobbits by now; ‘when a woman has scholarly inclinations there is usually something wrong with her sexual organs.’ I’ve caught aunts trying to smuggle away some of my father’s books to prevent my learning!”

(side note, that’s a quote from Friedrich Nietzsche. I’m serious.)

She paused to catch her breath, which had quickened both from her anger and from her rapidity of speech.

“I refuse to stay in The Shire to suffer more and more unwanted offers of marriage from Hobbit men I have no intention of accepting. I refuse to limit my experiences as I am expected simply because I am in possession of a womb. If you will not accept me as one of you, I shall be coming along anyway, for I’m sure Gandalf will be accompanying you, and I shall be accompanying Gandalf!”

Her eye’s met Thorin’s, and her anger threatened to crumble and give way to embarrassment at her own outburst, but she held her ground. After a moment of silence, Thorin seemed to smile very slightly, which confused her somewhat.

“Give her a contract.” Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea @cd1242 @strongandfreedc @pixierox101 @jotink78 @luna-xial @underthemoon-n Thorin Tags: @dark-angel-is-back

#Thorin Oakenshield #thorin #thorin fic #bilbo #bilbo baggins #femthorin #female thorin #fembilbo #female bilbo #thorin and bilbo are lesbians #the company #the hobbit #The Hobbit fic #bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #bilbo fic #female dwalin #female nori #female fili

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Never have regrets; Joe Mazzello x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well here I have another Secret Santa gift. As a part of the Get Down Give Joy giveaway I would like to present @stewielover95 with your fic. Yes dear I am your secret Santa. I really hope you like this fic in the end, I struggled with it at first but then I finally had a good direction to go with it. Anyways I also want to thank @warriorteam1924 and @thosequeenboys for creating this splendid give away, after the LONG AND HELLISH year that 2020 has given us, it was very sweet of them to create this little give away to brighten up our holiday spirit (esp. since we can’t really see our families this year. Even if you can, PLEASE BE SAFE!!!). Now I’ll stop typing so that you all can start reading, hope everyone enjoys this lovely little fic with our beloved dino boy Joey Mazzello :)

Warnings: Joe’s chaotic child behavior (MAY CAUSE CAVITIES), fluff, parental angst, parent death, mentions of suicide, a small very subtle HINT of COVID (word isn’t mentioned but still think I should give warning),

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

___________________________________________________________

I was peacefully sleeping. After working long hours at my job I wanted nothing more than to just stay in bed all day and sleep until lunchtime.

“Hey baby~” Joey’s voice cooed in my ear. I felt him kiss my cheek and I let out a tired groan. “Good morning.”

“Joey!” I whined. “Go back to sleep.”

“No. The sun’s awake, so I’m awake. Which means we have to snuggle and make out.” I cracked an eye open and looked up at him. His auburn hair all messed up from his constant tossing and turning that he does in his sleep.

“We’ll make out when the rooster crows.”

“But babe there aren’t any roosters in New York.”

“Exactly.” He faux a gasp as he collapsed back on the bed.

“How could you? And I thought you loved me?! I knew it. You’re only in it for the money! Or the childhood fame crush! Or was it for Ben? It was for Ben wasn’t it! I knew you two were having an affair behind my back!” god he was such a drama queen. But he was my drama queen.

“Yes we’ve been sneaking in text messages behind your back.” I teased him.

“Okay that’s it!” I then felt him wriggle himself under the covers and I felt myself go from my stomach to my back in a split second.

“Joseph Francis Mazzello III! What the f—NO AHHH NO DOHOHOHN’T! DON’T TICKLE ME!!” I thrashed around trying to get him off of me but he had me pinned right down to the bed.

“You gonna get up now?” I heard him say from under the covers.

“JOHOHOHOE!!!” I screamed out in laughter. “Plehehehehease!”

“No not until you either say you’re gonna wake up. Or until I hear an apology.” Then I heard the dreaded sound and feeling of his deadly raspberries being blown on my stomach, just an inch over my bellybutton. And it was even worse now that he was growing out his beard.

“Okay! OK! OK! OK! OKAY STOP! I surrender! I surrender!” his head soon peaked out from the covers as his face was just a few inches away from mine. His shit-eating grin spread across his face, while his eyes twinkled with that same mischievous spark that made me fall in love with him. “I hate you.” I whined.

“Aww and I hate you too.” He moved closer to my lips and kissed me. “I hate you—so much.” His voice lowered down as he deepened the kiss. I felt his hands cup the sides of my face while my arms wrapped around him.

My right-hand stroking through his already messy hair while my left wrapped around his back. After what felt like an eternal make out session, we finally separated from each other and stared at one another.

“Alright you have my attention Joey.”

“Yay!” he cheered softly. “But in all seriousness, we need to get up. We promised my mom that we’d help with the Christmas decorations.”

“Okay. Now get off me yah goober so that we can help her.” He got off of me and I sat up but I was quickly pulled back onto the bed, laying against Joe’s chest. Him grinning smugly at me as he kissed me on the lips.

“Sorry, had to get my morning kiss from you.”

“And the morning make out session wasn’t enough for you?”

“Morning make outs and morning kisses are two completely different things.” He told me in that philosophical tone of his. You know the one you use to make yourself sound smarter.

“Ahh I see. Well thank you Professor Mazzello on explaining the differences between the two.”

“That’s Dr. Mazzello to you. But you are most welcome. Anything for my best student.” I pecked his nose and got back up but found myself being pulled back again towards Joe.

“Joey!”

“Sorry, sorry I couldn’t resist. Okay for real this time, go on. I’m right behind you.”

“Why don’t you go first and I’ll be right behind you?” I suggested. He sighed and pulled the covers off of us and went to sit up but this time I grabbed his hand and pulled him back onto the bed. I pecked his lips before taking off out of the room.

We both raced down the stairs and towards the living room when I felt Joey catch me in his arms, pick me up and spin me around. Laughing manically while he did it. I myself couldn’t help but giggle when a female voice said.

“Ah-uh Joseph! No horse playing in the house.”

“Sorry mom.” He said as he sat me down.

“Sorry about that mama.” I said.

You see, Joe and I had been dating for practically ten years. We actually met through our good friend Rami way back when we were all on the Pacific. I was part of the costume department, and I was Rami’s assistant costumer. So whenever he got into Snafu’s character of course he tried to flirt with me and I’d play along off of his character telling him he didn’t have a chance.

Between takes the three of us became thick as thieves and kept in contact. Then one day when we were all on break, Rami set Joe and I up to meet at the beach so that the two of us could talk to each other. At the time of filming, Joe and I had been really shy around each other and we both liked each other (of course neither of us had the guts to say it to the other).

But after spending our break at the beach together that’s when Joe made the first I love you confession and—the rest is history as they say. When the three of us reunited for Bohemian Rhapsody and got to know Ben, Lucy, Allen, and Gwilym, our little family had now grown bigger. And it was after filming a concert scene in Japan (with some help from the actual Queen band themselves) that Joe (yes still dressed as early 70’s John Deacon) proposed to me.

So for 2 years he and I had been married. Of course like all couples we have our fights and disagreements but in the end we patch through them and not let it run our lives. Oh and I almost forgot, since I had been so close with the Mazzello family throughout our entire relationship, I had the privilege to call Joe’s parents, my parents even before we got married.

“I swear you both remind me of—” that’s when mom trailed off sadly as she looked down. Joe and I grew sad too as we thought about his dad.

“We miss him too mom. God I—I can’t believe this will be our 3rd Christmas without him.” Joe said as he walked towards his mom and gave him a hug.

“As much as I wish he could be here with us, he wouldn’t want us to be sad on his favorite holiday.” She told us. She took a deep breath in and cleaned her eyes of her hidden tears. “There now, I’ve got breakfast all ready for you two. Once you’re done, Joseph, I want you to bring in the Christmas boxes from the garage and set them in the living room. (Y/n), you and I will get the Christmas decorations from the attic.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am!” We both saluted. We went to the kitchen and ate our breakfast. After that we went to our stations and helped Mama Mazzello with the Christmas decorating.

It took almost all day but we came to a pretty good stopping place today decorating wise. We put up some of the minor Christmas displays up all over the house (like small animal plushies, Christmas pictures of the Mazzello family throughout the years, etc.) Joe managed to get all the outdoor decorations set up and displayed, and mama and I set up the Christmas placemats on the tables.

It was now a bit past 5pm and it was pitch black outside. Joey and I were cuddled together on the sofa and I looked out the window and shook my head.

“I still can’t get over the fact that it gets dark at freakin 4o’clock now.”

“I know it’s crazy. My mom’s never liked it, have yah mom?”

“Oh it messes up my schedule everytime!” Mom cried out from the kitchen as she was prepping dinner. “Hey (Y/n) are your mom and Derek still coming to the party?”

“Yeah. They said they’d be taking the train from Virginia instead of the plane. I think they said they’d be coming up sometime next Wednesday. I’ll call them later tonight to confirm that.”

“Alright well I’ll get the guest room set up for them.”

“You know you don’t need to do that.”

“Nonsense you guys are family. And it’ll be a lot safer here at the house than taking a hotel room with everything that’s going on.” She said.

“Yeah that is true. Thanks mama.”

“Okay well come and make a plate you two, dinner’s ready.” We stood up and got our dinner (steak and potatoes) and ate at the dinner table while playing on Freeform’s 25 days of Christmas was the Santa Clause.

Weeks later and it was the day before the Mazzello Christmas party and arriving in less than an hour was my mom and Derek. If your curious as to why I call my dad Derek, well he’s not really my dad. He’s my stepdad but I really do care for him.

He and my mom met up shortly after I graduated from high school after my parents divorced. My real dad and I…well—we don’t talk at all. Our relationship is very strained so why don’t we just leave it at that? But when my mom met Derek, he’s been the father I wished I had.

He’s loving, supportive, kind, funny, and he’s always there whenever my mom or I needed him. He was there for me when Joe and I were going through a bad patch in our relationship, he was there for all my birthdays and movie premieres, and he was even the one to walk me down the aisle at mine and Joe’s wedding.

I was doing the last final touches of cleaning up the house for my mom and Derek’s arrival, as well as Joe’s siblings, nieces, and nephews. I heard the door open and a stampede of footsteps soon came running towards me.

“Auntie (Y/n)! Auntie (Y/n)!” I was soon glomped by 4 little nuggets.

“Hey there kiddies. Oh I’ve missed you four soo much! How have you all been?”

“I lost another tooth see?” Joe’s niece Samantha said opening her mouth to show me her missing tooth.

“I learned how to ride my bike!” his nephew Matthew aka Matty exclaimed.

“Oh big boy now huh? Bet you were better than your uncle Joey was.”

“I heard that!” Joe called out. He along with this brother and sister came through the living room and I hugged my brother and sister in laws.

“Hey guys Merry Christmas.” I greeted them.

“Merry Christmas (Y/n).” his sister Mary said as she and I hugged each other first.

“Even though Christmas isn’t until tomorrow.” His brother John said.

“Okay Scrooge. Get over here John.” He gave me a kiss to my cheek and the two of us embraced each other. “Joe’s told me about your little league’s championship win. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah those kids did me proud.”

“You know if you could convince Joe and (Y/n) to hurry up with getting kids of their own, they might give you some new champions.” A female voice soon spoke up. Soon coming around the corner of the house along with Mama was my own mom as well as Derek.

“Mom!” I whined.

“Now, now (m/n) don’t go pressuring her just yet. There’s still plenty of time for her and Joe to have kids. Say when their 50.” I chuckled and shook my head at Derek’s statement. I walked up to them and first hugged my mom.

“Did you guys have a safe train ride?” I asked.

“It went well. Much less crowded than I expected.”

“That’s cause you’ve always done the Metro mom. Metro and train are two totally different things.” I told her. I turned to Derek and he said with a smile as he extended his arms out.

“Come here baby girl.” I smiled and went into his arms and the two of us hugged each other. “Don’t just wait till the holidays to come see us. How will your mother and I survive?”

“I’m sorry Derek, work’s just been crazy lately. Directors have been wanting me to do costume designing and fittings for them left and right.” I said as we released each other from the hug.

“And why wouldn’t they? You’re incredibly talented.” Joe said as he came up and quickly pecked my cheek.

“He’s right. I remember you staying up way past your curfew designing costumes for your tech theatre class back in high school.” Derek continued. “And all those times of drawing on napkins and the corners of the morning paper. I swear you doodled sketches like it was no one’s business.”

“You stayed up pass curfew?” my mother snapped.

“Thanks a lot Derek.” I muttered angrily.

“Hey had to come out sometime right?” I playfully nudged him and said to my mom.

“That’s in the past mom. No need to talk about it now.”

“Oh you can be sure we’ll discuss that later little missy.” She lectured as she waved her finger at me.

“Alright, now the rooms have all been prepared for you all in advance. Mary, John you’ll take your old rooms. (M/n) and Derek the guest room has been made up for you all and of course the kids get the cloud bedroom.” The kids all cheered. “Now everyone drop your bags off in your designated rooms and we can all gather around the table for some dinner.”

I helped mom with her bags and guided her and Derek to the guest room while Joe went to help his mom set up the table for dinner.

“So when can we expect future grandbabies from you and Joe (n/n)?” my mom asked.

“If you keep pestering me about that then you won’t have any grandbabies.” I teased her as we came to the room. “Here we are, I cleaned it up myself. Hope you guys will be comfortable.”

“It’s great (y/n). Thank you.” Derek assured me.

“Tell Virginia we’ll be down in a moment once we’re finished unpacking.” My mom said. I nodded then left the two of them to unpack their stuff.

As I came down the stairs, I already saw Joe being attacked by all his nieces and nephews. The kids were climbing all over him like a tree, all of them talking over the other and squealing like little piglets.

God seeing Joe with those kids it—really did make me want to have kids with him. He’s already a fun uncle, I’m positive he’d make a great dad. Probably spoil our kids to no end but—he could be the discipliner if he needed to.

“Ow! Who’s on the head?!” Joe exclaimed. I shook my head at his nephew Matty who had half of his body on top of Joe’s head.

“Alright you kids break it up.” I told the kids as I grabbed Matty and held him in my arms.

“Auntie (Y/n), will you sing for us tomorrow at the party like you did last year?” He asked me.

“You bet she’ll sing for you kids. And hey how about we do one better. How would you kids like it if your auntie (Y/n) and I performed together?” Joe asked joyously. But the kids all let out a groan.

“No uncle Joey you can’t sing!” complained Sammy.

“Excuse me?!” Joe gawked offensively.

“Yeah uncle Joey, you don’t have that good of a singing voice.” Matty agreed.

“And too loud sometimes.” His other niece Katie or as I like to call her Kitty-cat said.

“My own kin turned against me. That’s it you three are in BIG trouble. C’mere!” he went to grab his nieces who quickly ran off his lap and hid behind me.

“Save us auntie (Y/n)!” the girls chorused out. I shielded the three of them and stood before Joe as his face got right up close to mine.

“You know we could team up and catch them together.”

“I don’t betray kids Joe.”

“So—they’ve turned you too. Fine. I’ll take you down first.” Suddenly he picked me up over his shoulder and proceeded to spin me around and around like a helicopter.

“JOEY!!” I exclaimed through my laughter.

“Then surrender the kids to me or the spinning continues.” He threatened.

“Well then this game’s gonna have to be put on hold cause it’s time for dinner.” Joe’s mom spoke up. The kids all raced to the dinner table while Joe put me back down. I stumbled a little but he caught me and asked.

“You okay?”

“I’ll live. Just next time don’t spin me around so fast.” I kissed the corner of his lips before heading towards the sinner table with Joe right behind me. Soon enough we all gathered around and had ourselves a pre-Christmas family dinner.

Soon it finally arrived. The most wonderful time of the year, Christmas eve. All the gifts were now placed under the tree wrapped up in various Christmas themed wrappings or color schemes of silver, red, gold, and green. Now it was really beginning to look like Christmas.

“Alright guys, as per tradition we shall start off with (Y/n);s annual Christmas performance.” Mama Mazzello said. I stood up from Joe’s lap as everyone applauded.

Derek at the speakers ready for my signal for him to turn the first song on. I nodded and he clicked the play button and soon my first song (in fact the very first song I ever sang back when I was a teen for my family) Faith Hill’s “Where are you Christmas”.

It’s also my mom’s favorite song and every year since I sang it back when it came out in 2000 she’s wanted me to sing it just for her. As I sang I could see the tears forming in my mom’s eyes as a wide smile spread across her face and she lip synched the words. The kids all stared at me in awe, and my beloved Joe Mazzello he was entranced.

He’s always teased me of how I should be a singer instead of a costume designer and back when we were both involved with Bohemian Rhapsody he’s sworn that he’d get me up on stage with Queen and Adam Lambert to sing with them. Thankfully that hasn’t happened (and I hope it continues that way) so Joe’s just had be do private concerts for him.

After the song was done they all clapped as I told Derek my next song and helped him search the right version of the song.

“This one right here?” he asked to confirm.

“Yep that’s the one.” I told him. I turned back towards the family and now playing on the speakers was Carrie Underwood’s “Do you hear what I hear?” I fingered the piano chords against my thigh, pretending that I was actually playing the keys (even though I can’t play to save my ass, even with Rami’s help).

That song required a lot of breath work and correct timing but I managed to pull it off and once the song concluded everyone clapped again. This time for the final song, I took out two chairs and set them before everyone.

Joe took this as his cue to come up and help me set up the finale song, especially since he was going to be joining me on it this year. We had been practicing this since November, he wrote the script and everything and we rehearsed it and rehearsed it and rehearsed it.

“For this final song I first want to thank my director and partner Joe Mazzello for writing the script for this little skit you will see.” Joe nodded as he came in with two cups of hot chocolate (his being made of almond milk of course). The two of us sat side by side and Joe clapped his hands together and said.

“And…..action!” I took a sip of my hot chocolate and said my first line.

“I still can’t believe you can finally drink hot chocolate.”

“Hey almond milk saves lives.” He said his line.

“Personally, I’d never drink that stuff but so long as it helps you. I’m glad I could share this tradition with you.”

“Me too babe.” My phone then dinged and I said.

“Oh my god!”

“What? What is it babe?”

“It’s already pass midnight. My mother’s gonna kill me!”

“Whoa, whoa wait a minute. Don’t tell me you’re going out there!” he said as we both stood up and he gestured toward the window.

“I have to Joey. Even if it’s 20ft of snow out there, it’s nothing compared to the wrath of a mother who doesn’t like their baby staying out past curfew.” I broke the 4th wall and turned to my mom who crossed her arms and looked at me with a playful scowl.

“C’mon just give her a call and explain it to her. It’s way too cold out there for you. I won’t let you freeze out there.” Derek then turned on the song “Baby it’s cold outside” the Seth McFarlane and Sara Bareilles version.

The two of us walking in circles of each other with me trying to head out of the living room and Joe coming around in front of me singing Seth’s part while I sang Sara’s.

Every now and then he’d take my hands in his and giving them a kiss. Or he’d brush a strand of hair out from my face, gingerly brushing my cheek with the back of his finger. But just as we got to the end of the first verse, there was a knock at the door.

Joe and I stopped singing as Derek cut off the music and we all turned our attention to the door.

“Mom is—anyone else coming?” asked Mary.

“No.” she simply stated. Four more knocks rang through the house. The kids were started to get frightened as they ran up to their parents.

“I’ll find out who it is.” Said Mary’s husband Dylan.

“No, no, no. You just stay with your kids Dylan. I’ll go see who it is.” Derek offered as he left the living room. After about a minute my mom followed behind him and the next thing I heard was my mom saying.

“What are you doing here!?” it—it couldn’t be. I raced out of the living room as Joe tried to reach out for me and stop me but he was too late. I came around and walked down the small hallway staircase that led to the front door and there at the door was someone I hoped I’d never see again.

For there standing at the door in his famed fedora hat was my dad.

He looked older than the last time I saw him, his hair going grey from the stress and wrinkles forming at the end of his eyes.

“I know I don’t have a right to be here, but……”

“That’s right you don’t!” I snapped. My mom and Derek looked up at me.

“(Y/n) go back upstairs. Derek and I can handle this.” My mom told me.

“(Y/n)?” my dad asked in awe. I glared at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “Wow look—look at you. You’re……practically grown up.”

“Yeah.” I snapped shortly. “You’d know if you’d pay attention instead of just criticizing me all the time.”

“I know. I……that’s actually why I came here.”

“How did you even know we’d be here (F/n)?” my mom asked.

“Well as part of the NYPD I’ve been—keeping tabs on our daughter. And found out who she married and where she was currently living at.”

“You’ve been spying on me!? Great even when you’re no longer apart of this family you still have to spy on everything I do!” I snapped. “So have you come to complain about my husband now? How I should’ve married a doctor or a cop? How I’ve thrown my life away by marrying an actor?”

“No.” he said. “I haven’t come to do anything like that. I just…..”

“No you know what? Let me start off since you never listened to me then, but you’ll hear me now!”

I walked down the steps and even though my mother tried to get me to go back upstairs, I got out of her arms and got right in my dad’s face and sneered at him.

“For years I’ve tried to be the perfect daughter you said you wanted! And for my childhood I tried to follow in your footsteps. But as I became a preteen you began to nitpick at everything! The color of my hair, what type of clothes I should wear, how I should wear my makeup, you even didn’t like the fact that I wanted to get my ears pierced! Said it was for criminals and goth kids to get their bodies pierced. You called me a delinquent!”

“I-I-I know I did. But now I’m……”

“It doesn’t matter what you have or want to say. The verbal abuse you gave me throughout my life has been nothing but a stab at my self-esteem. I tried to commit suicide by the time I was 16 because of you! You did that!”

“I’m sorry (Y/n).”

“Where was the sorry back then? Where was it? All you told me after I got back from the hospital was that it was my fault for disobeying you.” I once again got in his face and sneered lowly, “So whatever you have to say forget it.”

I turned around and walked up the steps. As I got halfway up my dad tried to say to me.

“(Y/n) please. I’m trying to make amends for that now. I know I’ve done and said awful things to you in the past. And looking back on it, it’s made me feel absolutely disgusted with myself. I’m your father, please forgive me. It’s Christmas time.” I lowered my head before turning my head towards him.

“Derek’s my father. Now get the fuck out of my life.” I said lowly to him while I glared at him. I ran back up the stairs and headed right towards Joe’s room. I slammed the door and hid myself in the corner of his room, curled myself up into a tight ball, and tried to keep my tears at bay but every now and then a tear fell from the corner of my eye.

I heard the door open and softly shut. The bed softly dipped down; and the familiar smell of Joe’s cologne hung in the air.

“Please Joe I—I’m not in the mood.”

“I know. That’s not why I came up here though.” I felt him rub my back in soothing circles. “Baby girl, I—I think you should really talk to your dad.” I raised my head up at him, my jaw dropped in shock and my eyes bug-eyed.

“You can’t be serious.”

“C’mon babe it’s Christmas…..”

“So?! I already spoke my mind to him!”

“No. You ranted in anger. You’re not supposed to be angry or any other negative emotion during Christmas.”

“Joe you—” I took a sharp breath in. “I’ve told you what he’s done to me. The neglect and verbal abuse he gave me. How am I supposed to suddenly let it go and forgive him!?”

“I know it’s not easy…..”

“I don’t believe this….you’re actually taking his side!!” I snapped as I backed away from him.

“I’m not! All I’m saying that is if you continue to hate him for the rest of your life, you’ll never be truly happy. Babe please I’m just thinking about what’s best for you.”

Oh my god—it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t…….

“You called him.”

“What? No!?”

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, not-it-it-it all makes sense. How else could he pick up this address? That whole detective bullshit you reached out to him and called him up didn’t you!?”

“(Y/n) I—”

“TELL ME THE TRUTH!!” I screamed at him. Silence rang out through Joe’s childhood room as he and I stared eye to eye with each other. Not a single one of us flinching or breaking eye contact.

“Even if it was me, as I told you I was only trying to help.”

“How!?” I snapped. “Be thankful your dad died a good man!” At the mention of his dad, Joe’s face grew hard and angry.

“I know. I was lucky. My dad was a kind man, and generous and forgiving. But get this (Y/n), I won’t get to experience that type of father love ever again! And I would give anything to have him back here! To have gotten to know you as my wife instead of my girlfriend! To one day see our children! So be thankful that your father is still alive and healthy!” his voice quivered and choked as his voice got steadily louder.

“Joe, I—”

“All I wanted was for you to make amends with your dad because you never know which day will be your last!” he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut.

Goddamnit! Now I feel like shit. I sighed heavily and fell down onto the bed and felt the tears stream down my face.

After calming myself down and cleaning myself up, I walked downstairs and there was my mom, Derek, Joe’s mom, and siblings. The kids weren’t there so I assume Mary and John sent them to bed after what had happened.

“If you’re wondering where Joe is he left. Didn’t say where he went he just—took his coat, hat and scarf and just left.” John said.

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” I walked over to my mom and said. “Where’s (f/n)?”

“What?”

“Please mom I—just tell me where he went.” I said urgently.

“He told me he was staying at the Milton motel just 15min. away from here.” I raced and grabbed my winter gear and keys. My mom calling out to me but I didn’t hear her as I got on my bike and took off down the streets.

When I arrived at the Milton, I went up to the front desk and asked to see a (F/n) (l/n), I told the concierge that I was someone close to him. She called him up and told me he’d be down in a minute.

I sat down in the lobby and waited for him to come down. I heard the elevator ding and soon coming out of it was (F/n). He turned to his left and when he saw me, his eyes widened.

“(Y/n)?” I stood up. He slowly walked towards me. “But I thought—”

“First I want to say this before I say something else. You suddenly showing up the way you did was uncalled for. You can’t expect an apology after the years of neglect and verbal abuse you gave me. Even from the smallest little thing about me that I wanted to change, you insulted me to no ends.” I took a deep breath. “And as much as I want to never want anything to do with you again—someone once told me that if I continue to hate you for the rest of my life, I’ll never be truly happy.”

“I’ve looked back on my actions and every day I hate myself for what I’ve done to you. So—will you give me another chance?”

“I won’t forgive you right away and start calling you dad.”

“I’ll take what I can get. Thank you (Y/n).” he extended his hand out for me to take. For the first time in years I took my dad’s hand and we shook on it. “Do you want to spend Christmas day with us tomorrow?”

“I’d like that very much. Plus I’d—I’d like to get to know the man that stole your heart.” My eyes widened.

“Joe! Shit I almost forgot! Ohh but where could he be? He could be anywhere!”

“Just a minute (Y/n), let me make a call.” He took out his phone and made a call. “Hey Jeremy, it’s me. Yeah hey listen I know it’s the holidays but I need your tracking skills.” I saw him nod and hum in agreement, “Okay just a second,” he placed the phone down against his shoulder and asked me, “Do you have his number?”

I told him Joe’s number and he relayed that to his friend. Wow I guess he really is a police officer.

“Really? Great. Thanks Jeremy. Yes you have a Merry Christmas too. See you after the New Year. Bye.” He hung up his phone and said. “His cell was last pinged at the Rockefeller Center.” I thanked him and raced out of the motel and back to my bike. I revved it up and raced on down to Rockefeller Center.

The monument around Christmas time. I stood before the giant, beautiful tree and raced towards it on foot. I looked around for Joe till I finally found him on the other side of the two angel statues playing their horns.

“Joe!?” he turned around and looked at me before glaring softly and turned back around. I raced towards him but he still refused to look at me. “Joey……I—I talked to him. My dad. And—it’s gonna take some time but I…..I told him I’d give him another chance.” He didn’t respond back, hell he still didn’t even look at me. “I was way out of line. I shouldn’t have accused you like that. I mean, even if you did call him I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I was angry and—those feelings that my dad gave me when I was a kid I’ve tried to bury them for years. And seeing him for the first time in forever it—made me feel like that extremely insecure girl I once was. And I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

Again, he remained silent and stoic.

“And I shouldn’t have mentioned your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted us to fight, especially on his favorite holiday. I’m sorry Joe.” Nothing. Not even a smug Deacy grin. “Joey?” why wasn’t he answering me?

I slowly approached him and everytime I tried to lean forward to look at him, he just turned his head further away from me.

“Joe please? What more do you want me to say? You were right and I was wrong? That Ben should really be with you instead of Gwil? What can I say that will help you say something to me?” he crossed his arms over his chest and huffed at me.

I sighed sadly and looked up at him. Okay, I get it. Guess he’s really upset with me and I could possibly expect him to go stay with Rami and Lucy for the next month or so.

“Alright. I get it. You don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I deserve it. I was a real bitch to you. But I just want you to know that I’ll always love you, and that I hope you find the right girl for you. Even if it’s not me.” I turned and walked away from him when I suddenly felt two arms wrap around my waist and pull me up against a comfy coated chest.

“And just what makes you think that I would want anyone else?”

“What?” he gave me a cheeky grin. “Oh you son of a—” I proceeded to hit him in his chest screaming profanities at him. All the while he kept laughing and holding my arms back. He then proceeded to peck all over my face with kisses.

Soon my anger turned to laughter as I calmed down and surrendered to his kisses.

“You’re a real jerk sometimes you know that.”

“But you married me in the end right?” I nodded as he once again wrapped his arms around me. “So you really talked to your dad? Not just yelled at him.”

“Yes. I—even invited him for Christmas lunch tomorrow.”

“Well look at you making progress!” he exclaimed proudly before taking off my beanie and ruffled my hair. I exclaimed and tried to shoo his hand away from my head. He chuckled then readjusted my hair to some level of normalcy. “In all seriousness babe, I’m glad you took my advice.”

“Yeah. I mean like you said, I’ll never truly be happy till I let go of my anger. And I haven’t realized til now just how much that anger has been weighing me down.”

“I could see it every time your dad was even mentioned. I hate seeing you be that angry.” he embraced me from behind, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

“I’m—also sorry about….you know what I said about your dad.” He placed my head over his chest.

“I forgive you. We were both angry and said the first thing that came to mind.”

“But I shouldn’t have spoken ill about your dad. He really was a sweet guy.”

“That he was.” He smiled the smile he inherited from both his parents.

“Like father like son.” I giggled. He chuckled and took my hand then as we walked back to my bike, we both looked up and saw that snow was starting to fall.

“Well, looks like we’re getting a White Christmas after all.” He said.

“Indeed, just prepare for the avalanche of feet from the munchkin army come morning.”

“Don’t I know it. But you’re also forgetting one other kid.” He looked at me confused. “You yah big man child!”

“Hey you’re just as crazy about snow as I am!” we then proceeded to nag at each other over who was a bigger fan of the snow, even going as far as to see who would crack first tomorrow morning once we’d see the snow on the ground.

#getdowngivejoy #joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfiction #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello imagines #joe mazzello fluff #secret santa #christmas fic #getdowngivejoy event #bohemian rhapsody #the pacific #wooly boys #jurassic park #the social network #joe mazzello oneshot #undrafted #joe mazzello undrafted

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years

Text

Hoodie Season

F/M Pairing: Y/N X Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 7K

Note: Another requested Fic! Enjoyyyy

It was a Friday morning and I refused to leave the familiar comforts of my bed. With the addition of the sun hitting just right from the low-slanted window, I was prepared to give up on the possibility of moving from my comfortable position, even if that meant missing work today. After all, I endured an endless barrage of tiring conditions throughout the week, listening to adolescent teenagers gossip and complain about every possible topic. Therefore, this type of treatment was certainly warranted, even if the sounds of the traffic outside proved to be an annoying disturbance.

I let out a yawn, turning onto my side to face away from the street, pausing when I realized that there was something beneath my hand. I reluctantly pried open one eye, glancing down to see what I had just discovered. Irritation boiled beneath my skin when I realized several pregnancy magazines were strewn across the sheets. “What the hell?” I groaned, suddenly losing any prior interest in sleeping. I gathered the magazines together before storming into the kitchen where Hyunjin was sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. I tossed the magazines onto the empty space in front of him. “You’re not exactly subtle these days,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

My husband glanced up at me over the brim of his coffee mug. “What do you mean?” he asked with innocent eyes.

“I don’t want kids right now, Hyunjin,” I said, glowering at him once more. “Isn’t it enough that we deal with students every day at school?”

“But they’d be our kids, Y/N,” he pouted, attempting to hand me a magazine from atop the messy pile.

I ignored his offering, shaking my head while storming into the kitchen. “I don’t care if they’re our kids, I’m not ready!”

“They’re so cute though,” Hyunjin said, opening one of the covers. “Look at how small they are!”

“Yeah? Well, they won’t stay that small forever,” I said. “And then they’ll be just like those horny high school demons we deal with every day.”

“Aren’t you being dramatic?” he asked which was quite ironic coming from the Hwang Hyunjin, AKA, one of the most over-dramatic people I have ever met in my entire life. The same Hyunjin who demanded that they move Mr. Henderson into a new classroom because he was located right next to the library where I worked and Hyunjin was certain he was flirting with me.

“Babe, you can’t even pretend to be serious,” I said, reaching for the cereal from the top shelf. “I think you’re determined to test me today.”

“Our babies would be so beautiful,” Hyunjin went on as if he was refusing to listen to my counter-arguments.

“You’re only acting like this because one of your friends had a kid.”

“Maybe,” Hyunjin shrugged, joining me in the kitchen as I spooned more Fruit Loops into my mouth. “But you can’t tell me that you weren’t enamored with your nieces at my mom’s Christmas party.”

“I was just being nice,” I grumbled, ignoring the way Hyunjin was now clambering for my attention, arms wrapped around my waist. Hyunjin was always clingy in the mornings, fresh-faced with the lingering effects of sleep clouding his eyes.

“Can you at least pretend to think about it?” Hyunjin whined.

“Maybe if you’re good,” I said, loosening his hold which allowed me to slip through to the other side of the counter. “Don’t forget that your little PR stunt woke me up early this morning, babe, and I don’t forgive easily.”

“Don’t act like you hated it,” Hyunjin said, reaching for the car keys out of the small dish we kept by the door. “Am I driving?”

“How else will I intake my daily caffeine addiction?” I asked, pouring the remaining coffee into a travel mug. “But slow down in the school zone, I don’t think our bank account can take another traffic violation.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I was barely over the limit.”

I grinned at the way he tried to defend himself. “Give me twenty minutes to make myself look decent.”

“Wouldn’t want to scare the kids, right Y/N?”

“Thin ice, Hyunjin, you’re very close to sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Hyunjin smirked because he knew my threats were empty. I was weak for my husband and he liked to exploit my affections for him at every opportunity possible. For example, last night he pretended to be super excited for the new season of the Bachelor (even though he hates the show) just because he wanted me sat in his lap while he did his best to decorate my neck with colorful marks.

In conclusion, Hyunjin was my kryptonite, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hyunjin and I arrived at school fifteen minutes early, parting ways in the mostly full parking lot because the students definitely didn’t need to see the way he liked to grope my ass when we kissed. Despite working together, I rarely saw Hyunjin throughout the day unless he made-up some excuse to come see me in the library. But this was a rare occurrence since Hyunjin, as a dance teacher, really had no valid reason to need library resources.

Speaking of which, the library, at my personal request, was the glorified version of an introvert’s paradise. It was always quiet, thanks to my meticulous monitoring, and was equipped with a small digital lab and self-named “relaxation room” where students (and staff) could enjoy a variety of stuffed couches and reclinable chairs to simply forget about the other horrors of high school. I was especially proud of the library’s progress, updating equipment and technology yearly due to my persistence in applying for a variety of government grants. Yes, I was satisfied with my status as the school’s “cool” librarian who enforced the strict library rules of conduct while also allowing a smidgen of favoritism when one of my students brought in a candy bar to eat during lunch.

Of course, such sanctity was frequently disrupted by my husband and his friends who demonstrated absolutely no regard for silence. Han Jisung was the worst of them all, waltzing into the library in stride to ask for whatever set of books he needed for his English classes. While I prepared the cart, he would talk relentlessly about everything from his ex-girlfriends to the much-dreaded topic of his endless stories about Hyunjin’s wilder days back in college. “I wish you could’ve been there, Y/N,” Jisung would snort. “Hyunjin took shots like they were water.”

“Yes, I know,” I would grumble while ordering him to leave the library before the remaining students were permanently traumatized.

And when Hyunjin would visit me, which seemed unnecessary considering he taught dance classes, he always made sure to completely take over my office, feet propped up on my desk while pouting at me to sit on his lap. Which was the opposite of professional considering the masses of students lingering around the bookshelves. But that never seemed to deter Hyunjin who always found a new and creative excuse to visit the library.

Like begging me to allow him to use my coffee machine.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin said, following me as I navigated the complicated filing system in the backroom. “I’m only asking because Jisung broke the one in the teacher’s lounge! And you know it might take weeks before they purchase a replacement.”

“Interesting,” I said, thumbing across the file tabs. “We have a coffee machine at home, don’t we, babe?”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment. “But what if I need more coffee later on?”

“One cup should be enough,” I nodded. “Caffeine isn’t good for you.”

“It’s actually great for me,” Hyunjin said. “If I didn’t have coffee, then I would be completely shut down by lunchtime.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I objected with a laugh.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin tried again. “As your husband-”

“- is that supposed to convince me?”

Hyunjin frowned. “I’ll clean the dishes and do the laundry until the machine in the lounge is fixed.”

I perked up instantly. “Well, I suppose I can make an exception for you...”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, starting for the small kitchen connected to my office. “I should have unlimited access.”

“And I should treat all my coworkers the same.”

“I’m offended, Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re sleeping with the other teachers.”

I glared at him. “For your information, you’re the one who's always touting professionalism in the workplace.”

“But that was before I started to miss you during the day,” Hyunjin said, adjusting the settings on my coffee machine. “You have a safe haven in the library.”

“It gets the job done,” I said, joining him at the machine. “Did you know we had a new student at school?”

“Yang Jeongin?” he asked, pulling back his mug to take a sip. “He’s in my first-period dance class.”

“That’s him,” I nodded. “I noticed that always comes in here during lunch. Do you think he has any friends?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin mused. “I don’t see him interacting with his classmates.”

I shivered because the topic at hand reminded me too strongly of my own experiences in high school. “I feel bad for him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, babe,” Hyunjin reassured me. “If it makes you feel better, then I could talk to him tomorrow?”

“Would you do that for me?” I asked, holding on to his arm.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “Unlike you, I don’t ask for much when I’m doing something nice for my spouse.”

“Who else is going to keep you in check?” I asked him, pushing myself off from the counter.

Hyunjin gave my ass a polite swat on my way out the door. “Remember that we’re meeting Jisung and his new girlfriend for dinner.”

I groaned at the reminder. “Explain to me again, babe, why do we have to do that?”

“Because he’s my best friend,” Hyunjin said. “And he’s trying to make things less awkward.”

“Are we going to show up for all of his dates?” I asked. “To keep things less awkward?”

“You’re honestly just as dramatic as I am,” Hyunjin commented. “He’s only asking me for a small favor, and...” He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “If you’re a good girl, then I might reward you when we get home later.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s been a while since we’ve been out, hasn’t it?”

Hyunjin grinned at my willing compliance.

Han Jisung’s new girlfriend was...interesting, to say the least. She arrived with her arm tucked securely around Jisung’s while dressed in a bright pink mini-skirt and lime green crop-top that left very little to the imagination. The moment she walked into the restaurant, every pair of eyes watched as she shimmied through the tables, greeting Hyunjin and I like we had known each other since childhood. “You guys look great!” she exclaimed, leaning across the table to offer my cheek a polite tap. “Girl, you have to tell me who does your hair.”

“Oh...” I trailed off, glancing at Hyunjin anxiously because my husband had forgotten to mention that we were meeting an eccentric child. Because Jisung’s girlfriend didn’t look a day over the legal age.

“I’m Hailey,” she announced, smacking her gum obnoxiously.

Meanwhile, Jisung was smiling like an idiot. “I hope we’re not late.”

“Of course not,” Hyunjin said and I rolled my eyes since apparently being half an hour late for your reservation was perfectly acceptable.

“Holy shit, you look like a runway model!” Haily declared, pointing at Hyunjin with exaggerated motions. “Honey, you didn’t tell me that you were friends with someone this gorgeous.”

I frowned at the comment while Hyunjin just shifted uncomfortably next to me. “Thank you?”

“Jinnie’s always been a lady killer,” Jisung said, pulling out Hailey’s chair before taking the seat next to Hyunjin.

“But you’re all married now,” Hailey pouted as if she was actually disappointed with Hyunjin’s marital status despite the fact that she had come here with Jisung.

“2 years,” Hyunjin said with a dramatic flourish of his wrist. “Woohoo!”

“Y’all got kids and stuff right?” Hailey asked, ignoring the waiter who had arrived at our table, clearing his throat to get her attention. Thankfully, Jisung had enough sense to dismiss him with a request for two glasses of water.

“Not yet,” Hyunjin said, more attentive now that the topic had switched to a topic that he favored. “We’re planning on having two or three.”

I kept my mouth firmly shut because Hyujin was clearly living in an alternate universe. “That’s amazing,” Haily gushed, leaning into Jisung. “Did you hear that, Sungie? Isn’t that like the ultimate dream?”

“Is it?” Jisung questioned, offering Haily a gentle kiss. “Do you want kids someday?”

“A whole house full of them,” Hailey exclaimed and Hyunjin offered me a shit-eating grin like that somehow proved that I was in the wrong for denying him any children.

“We’re still talking about it,” I effectively inserted.

“Sungie tells me that you’re both teachers,” she continued, driving the conversation in an entirely new direction.

“I’m a librarian technician,” I said. “Hyunjin teaches dance.”

“Wow,” Hailey gushed. “That’s so cool, Hyunjin.”

I grimaced because apparently, Librarians weren’t as qualified to be considered cool. “I’m lucky that I have such willing students,” Hyunjin said, nodding appreciatively.

Sometimes, Hyunjin loved being the center of attention.

“I’m in like some sort of dance club at my university,” Hailey said and I nearly choked on my wine.

“You’re in college?” Hyunjin asked, flashing Jisung a reprimanding look that sent the younger into a rapid explanation.

“She’s a Senior,” Jisung said as if that made everything better. “You’re graduating soon, right babe?”

“Supposedly,” Hailey said, making a mess of the breadsticks in the center of the table. “I have to somehow pass this boring math lecture first.”

Hyunjin was not convinced and neither was I considering Jisung’s problematic history of dating younger girlfriends. “How long have you been with Jisung?”

“I don’t know,” Haily shrugged indifferently. “Maybe two weeks.”

“And are you staying on campus, Hailey?” I asked the young girl who nodded affirmatively.

“Jisung wants me to move in though,” Hailey said and that was the last straw for Hyunjin who abruptly stood from the table.

“Jisung,” my husband murmured quietly. “Let’s talk outside for a moment.”

Jisung bowed his head, cheeks flushed because he knew that Hyunjin was moments away from one of his famous lectures. “Okay.”

Hailey was silent until they were out of earshot. “That was weird, right?”

I feigned indifference, even as my mind thought up several creative ways to kick Jisung’s ass for trying things out with someone who was at least ten years younger than him. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if said significant other was employed at some kind of big business as opposed to the salon next to her university. But I didn’t want to let Hailey know that anything was amiss, so I reached across to grab her hand. “Everything’s fine.”

Internally, I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

I woke up to the feeling of Hyunjin’s hard erection pressing against my ass. “Babe,” I groaned, attempting to fend off the lingering effects of sleep.

Hyunjin grunted from behind me, drawing his hips in methodical circles. “What?”

“Your dick,” was all I could manage before yawning over my words.

“Fuck, I was having a good dream,” Hyunjin whined. “Remember that bathing suit you wore on our honeymoon?”

“The bikini?”

“Yeah, I still think about it a lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re hard because of my bathing suit?”

“More precisely, you in the bathing suit.”

“Whatever,” I said, rubbing my face against my pillow. “The alarm hasn’t gone off yet.”

“That gives us time,” Hyunjin said suggestively, drawing a hand along the contour of my hip bone.

“To sleep.”

“No, Y/N,” Hyunjin countered, presence heavy as he drew himself up higher against the headboard. “You don’t even have to do anything.”

“Fine,” I muttered. “But don’t blame me if I fall asleep.”

“You know my dick’s better than that,” Hyunjin said, fussing over my panties as he pulled them down beneath the sheets. His fingers dug into my thigh, lifting my leg to a more comfortable position over his hip. I could feel his cock, thick and prodding, as he adjusted himself behind me.

“Are you ever gonna put it in?” I asked drowsily, wincing at the sudden penetration of his cock inside. “Shit, slow down you animal!”

“Sorry,” he murmured, slowing drawing out before pushing back in at a more acceptable pace.

“Slow is good,” I continued, adrenaline rushing through my sleep-deprived body, reacting to his advances with tentative thrusts back against him.

“It’s good, right?” Hyunjin asked with a touch of arrogance, reaching around me to play with my clit.

“It’s always good,” I said, deciding to satiate his ego for once, especially now that I was fully aroused, cognizant of the heavy drag of Hyunjin’s cock.

His vacant hand wandered up my shirt, teasing a nipple as he continued to punctuate each heavy drag of his cock with a low grunt of effort. “I feel like it’s been ages since we did this.”

“I guess you’re still horny from the ego boost Jisung’s girlfriend gave you last night.”

“What are you talking about?”

I imitated her voice. “Oh, Hyunjin, you must be in great shape from dancing all the time.”

“She’s right,” Hyunjin said, tightening his hold as he kicked his hips aggressively, slamming into me like he was trying to make a point. “Have you seen my thighs, babe?”

“I like to ride them.”

“Fuck,” Hyunjin cursed, pressing even more insistently at my clit while his cock continued to fill my core. “I feel like a teenager again.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think I can last much longer either,” I said, panting as Hyunjin started to increase the power of his thrusts, chasing his own orgasm while I focused on the way it felt to be stimulated by his skilled fingers and impressive girth.

“Can I cum inside?” he asked, voice desperate but I remembered that I forgot to take my birth control pill the other day.

“Outside,” I said, reaching back to push against his chest. “I’ll suck your dick.”

“Please,” Hyunjin agreed without hesitation, pulling out with a wince while I tried to steady my shaky legs, straddling his thigh while leaning down for his cock. Hyunjin curled his fingers through my hair, directing my head to the tip, allowing my tongue to get its first taste of his pre-cum.

I hollowed my cheeks, taking in as much of his cock as I could before I felt the tip barely touch the back of my throat. Still, it was enough to make me gag and I pulled back to avoid the risk of walking around school with a sore throat all day. I took the remainder of his cock into my hand, tightening my grip at the base which rewarded me with a loud moan from Hyunjin. Meanwhile, I had slowly started to rock myself back and forth on his thigh, aiming for my own release while trying to encourage Hyunjin to cum down my throat.

“Beautiful,” he said, eyes filled with tears and adoration as he watched me take in more of his cock, nose brushing against his skin.

It only took a few more moments for Hyunjin to finally cum, throwing back his head as his hips jolted against the bed. I swallowed him down with a grimace because I still hated the taste of cum no matter how many times I offered him a blowjob. Pulling off his spent cock, I focused on myself, reaching down to give my clit a few more well-placed strokes before I was following him into a hormone-induced coma.

I fell against his chest, allowing him to run his hand up and down my back. “Babe, you’re my hero.”

I snorted at his comment. “What time is it?”

“We still have five minutes.”

“Good,” I groaned. “I’ll need every second to recover.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Want to take your mind off it?”

“Maybe,” I said, appreciating his warmth. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin said. “I gave him a stern lecture last night.”

“You go, babe.”

“Seriously, I can’t believe he’s dating a college student.”

“The Han Jisung? Nothing he does surprises me.”

“He says he really likes this girl.”

“No offense,” I said. “But I hope that was to defend himself because the girl is a nightmare.”

“Might finally put Jisung in his place.”

“Nobody can do that,” I said, using my arms to leverage myself back into a sitting position. “How bad is my hair?”

“My fingers weren’t helpful.”

“A shower then,” I nodded, glancing back at the bathroom. “You wanna join?”

Hyunjin’s breath caught. “I think you’re spoiling me, babe.”

It had become a recurring pattern, watching Jeongin walk into the library during his scheduled lunch period. Every day, he sat down at one of the computers in the lab to play some kind of online game that I didn’t protest since he wasn’t disturbing the other students. Truthfully, I didn’t really care one way or another, but I was starting to feel like Jeongin was intentionally avoiding his classmates. I understood that it was probably hard to transfer schools, but to attend classes by yourself with no friends to support you?

I shuddered at the thought, making up my mind as I carefully approached him. “Jeongin,” I said, awkwardly leaning against the side of the computer desk. “That was the bell for lunch.”

The younger boy glanced up to me timidly. “Oh, well I thought it was okay for students to spend lunch in the library.”

“It is,” I acknowledged. “But I thought you might want to spend some time with your friends.”

Jeongin ducked his head down, cheeks blushing red. “Not really.”

“Okay,” I said, struggling to finish my thoughts before spotting Hyunjin walking into the library. “I’ll be right back,” I said before practically sprinting to meet Hyunjin in my office. “Come here,” I said, pulling him to the side. “We have a problem.”

“I know,” he said with tired eyes. “I have no coffee.”

“Hyunjin,” I chastised him quietly. “That new kid always spends his lunch period in the library. He says he’s not interested in hanging out with anyone.”

“Well, that’s his choice,” Hyunjin said. “Some kids are really shy.”

“I know,” I grumbled. “But you know I was the same way in high school and I regret it now, hiding in the library during lunch because I had nobody to sit with.”

“You were a nerd too,” Hyunjin giggled.

“Do you want to keep using the coffee machine?”

“Sorry, babe.”

“Anyway,” I continued. “I think we should help Jeongin make some new friends. What about group activities in your dance classes?”

“I guess,” Hyunjin relented. “But I don’t want to force him.”

“You assign the groups then,” I said. “And let me know how he reacts.”

“Well, just based on what I’ve seen so far, he definitely prefers to be alone.”

“Then we have to reach out to him,” I said, holding tight to Hyunjin’s arm. “Nobody should be alone all the time.”

“He may not like it if we try to force him into something.”

“Then we back off if he shows any signs of being uncomfortable,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “A compromise.”

“If you really insist,” Hyunjin said, gliding past me for the coffee machine. “I’ll do my best, and I’ll let Chan and the others know.”

“Oh!” I gasped. “That’s a great idea! I can talk to the other teachers in the lounge!”

Hyunjin chuckled. “I thought you hated the teacher’s lounge?”

“Yeah? Well, I’m making an exception for the betterment of a student,” I proclaimed, waiting until Hyunjin finished refilling his coffee mug before ushering him out into the hallway. “Who’s usually in there?” I asked as we walked together.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin said. “Maybe Chan and Felix.”

“Chan and Jisung might be helpful,” I conceded. “What about Felix? Does Jeongin take art classes?”

“Babe, I don’t have his schedule memorized.”

“That’s first on the list,” I said with a nod.

We both paused outside the lounge as I attempted to listen in on the conversation progressing behind closed doors. “Who is that?”

Hyunjin chuckled, reaching past me for the door handle. He pushed it open wide, allowing us enough room to join the small group of teachers loitering between scheduled classes. “Y/N!” Jisung immediately greeted me, waltzing over to take my arm. “You never come in the lounge.”

“I’m making an exception,” I said, allowing Jisung to pull me to the table where Chan, Felix, and Changbin were all sitting together.

“You guys,” I said, sliding into an available seat. “What’s going on?”

Changbin eyed me suspiciously. “You never come here unless you want something.”

From behind my chair, Hyunjin snorted. “It’s one hell of a mission.”

“I knew it!” Felix declared, leaning back in his chair. “What sort of personal vendetta do you have now?”

“I’m offended,” I said, crossing my arms sternly over my chest. “Aren’t we all friends?”

“Of course we are, Y/N,” Chan said soothingly, ever the voice of reason.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “Which is why I need your help.”

Felix groaned, but I quickly jumped in to assure him. “It’s about that new kid, Yang Jeongin.”

“What about him?” Changbin grunted. “Other than the fact that he hates running exercises.”

“He’s taking gym?”

Changbin nodded, picking at the meager salad in front of him. “I don’t understand why.”

“Because it’s destiny,” I said, holding out my arms. “We’re meant to help guide him down the right path.”

“What path is that?” Changbin asked.

“The path of redemption,” I said, elbowing Hyunjin from behind when I heard him laughing. “He’s always in the library during free periods. I don’t think he’s adjusting to the school.”

“It happens with transfers,” Felix shrugged.

“But we can do something to help him,” I said. “Encourage him to make new friends and meet new classmates.”

“You want us to help with your ‘No Child Left’ behind agenda?” Changbin asked.

“I want you to help me lift a student’s self-confidence,” I said. “Jeongin is a sweet kid. He just needs a good push in the right direction.”

“Basically,” Hyunjin interrupted, leaning over me. “Y/N had no friends in high school and she wishes that there was a kind, sweet librarian with a great ass to help guide her way.”

“Don’t bring my ass into this,” I said, ducking away from his hold. “So what do you guys think?”

Felix sipped at his tea. “He’s not in any of my classes, but I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Why not?” Jisung suddenly commented. “I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re just trying to make up for last night’s dinner disaster,” I said, “but I’m willing to let you this time.”

Jisung let out a whoop while Changbin and Chan considered my words. “It’s fine with me,” Chan said. “Changbin?”

“Alright,” Changbin relented. “But this is your fault if the kid turns against us.”

“Trust me, nothing bad is gonna happen.”

A few days later, I received an urgent notice from the nurse’s office which was surprising considering the fact that I was usually stuck in the library all day. I sighed over my ever-growing stack of paperwork, gathering my cell phone before leaving the sanctity of my quiet office. There was an order form calling my name that I had been neglecting for several weeks now, but I figured that the unexpected notice could prove to be a legitimate distraction. After all, I was quite curious concerning why I was suddenly needed away from the library.

I paused outside the door to the nurse’s office, trying to listen to the sounds of conversation. Faint voices filtered through the barrier, including one that sounded awfully familiar. I held my breath as I walked inside, discovering my husband lying on top of the examination table. Hyunjin winced as the school nurse wrapped an ice pack around his ankle. “Fuck it hurts.”

“Hyunjin,” I said his name and my husband turned around to face me with a start. “What happened?”

“Y/N,” Hyunjin cried while reaching out for me. “Why did you take so long?”

“Really?” I immediately questioned him. “Babe, you’re the one with a bandage on your foot.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I twisted my ankle.”

I closed my eyes before releasing a sigh. “How did this happen?”

“Student-teacher race,” Hyunjin replied as if that possibly provided enough context for me to understand.

“A race?”

“Changbin thought it might be fun if the students competed against the teachers,” Hyunjin explained. “Like a reward.”

“You’re rewarding the students by putting your life in danger?”

“My life was never in danger, Y/N,” Hyunjin said with a sigh.

“Then why are you hurt?” I asked him, reaching over to land a scolding hit to his arm.

“Hey!” Hyunjin complained, holding his bicep now despite the ice packet still resting over his ankle.

“You idiot,” I groaned. “You aren’t 16 anymore. Why are you trying to outrace a bunch of student-athletes anyway?”

“Maybe I did it for you,” Hyunjin announced dramatically, falling rather ungracefully against the table.

“Why is participating in a race so important to me?”

“You said you wanted to get closer to that Jeongin kid,” Hyunjin explained. “He asked me to run with them.”

“Jeongin did?” I asked, suddenly unable to stop myself from laughing, practically slumping over Hyunjin’s lap.

“What’s so funny?”

“I may have told him a funny story about his dance instructor from your college days.”

Hyunjin gasped. “You didn’t!”

I shrugged. “I was trying to make him feel better.”

“By outing my humiliating secrets?”

“It was a worthy sacrifice, babe,” I said with a grin. “Just be glad I wasn’t there to watch it happen.”

“You’re always so supportive,” Hyunjin said, faintly protesting when I leaned down to offer him a gentle kiss. “Is this an apology?”

“I’m really proud of you, Hyunjin,” I said, reaching down to adjust the pillow propping his ankle.

“Whatever,” Hyunjin grumbled. “The kid was important to you.”

“But you didn’t have to go that far,” I said, gliding my fingers through his hair because I knew he loved the action.

“Maybe you can blow me later and all will be forgiven.”

“Done.”

The following week, I spotted Jeongin walking through the library on his way to class. He paused at one of the bookshelves, fingers skimming the faded spines. “Hey!” I said, catching his attention. “You weren’t in the library yesterday.”

“I know,” he said with a wide smile. “I was eating with some friends.”

My heart warmed at his words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes trained downward. “They seem pretty cool.”

“Jeongin,” I cooed because it was impossible to resist his adorable smile. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

“I know you had something to do with it,” the younger boy said and my smile instantly disappeared. “But it’s okay, I’m really glad you decided to help me.”

“Jeongin..” I started but broke off when I took a moment to study the crooked aspect to his knowing grin.

The doors to the library interrupted the brief silence that had descended between us, and Chan walked in with his eyes scanning over a folder that he held between his hands. “Ah! I’m interrupting something,” he said, looking back and forth between me and Jeongin.

“Oh, I was on my way out,” Jeongin said, bowing respectfully to Chan as he passed him.

Chan watched him go before looking to me for answers. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” I said, quickly switching the subject. “Did you need something?”

“Just a class copy of these books,” Chan said, holding up his folder. “Do you think you can help me bring them back to my classroom?”

“Why not?” I shrugged, taking the folder from Chan. “I have some free time before I have to file a few things.”

I guided Chan around the library to collect the books on his list, casually talking with him about one of the new teachers in the Science department. “Minho?” I said, vacantly scanning the barcodes of a display with textbooks.

“Yeah, he’s starting next week,” Chan said, grunting as he adjusted his hold on the giant stack of books collecting in his arms.

“Should be interesting,” I said, adding one last textbook to the pile in Chan’s arms. “Is this everything?”

“I hope so,” Chan grumbled. “Do you need my teacher ID?”

“I’ll scan it later,” I said, watching him struggle. “Let’s go before these end up on the floor.”

Chan let out a grateful sigh, and I maintained a careful distance at his side to ensure that my precious books wouldn’t suddenly drop from his hold. Thankfully, Chan seemed to have everything under control, like he was prone to do in most aspects of his life for which I was grateful. “Jeongin’s doing much better,” Chan remarked to me in passing as we walked together to his classroom.

“Yeah, he really seems to be opening up, especially after Hyunjin’s stunt in the gym.”

Chan snorted at the reminder. “I wish you could have been there, Y/N. But, if you’re curious, Changbin has the whole incident on video.”

“I’d love to see that...” I trailed off, spotting Hyunjin approaching on his new crutches.

“You know, I could hear you all the way over here!”

“Hyunjin,” I said, meeting him halfway so that he wouldn’t need to walk as far. “I was planning to come by and see you.”

“My arms hurt constantly,” Hyunjin said, adjusting his stance. “Honestly, I don’t even think these things are necessary.”

“Doctor’s orders,” I said swiftly, directing a quick goodbye to Chan before I was redirecting Hyunjin back to his classroom. “And don’t even try to demonstrate any crazy dance choreographies for these kids.”

“How else are they gonna learn?” Hyunjin demanded, even as he leaned more of his weight against my side for additional support.

Later that night, after a rather long day of ensuring that Hyunjin didn’t try to do anything too outrageous, the two of us finally returned home. I was rather proud of myself since Hyunjin was still in one piece. I half-expected to receive another call from the nurse’s office because my husband decided he needed to show off his moonwalk to impress his students.

In any case, what Hyunjin didn’t know was that I had started thinking a lot about the future, especially after everything that he did to help Jeongin. Suddenly, the idea of having kids was a lot less unappealing. This is why I immediately started for the bathroom, a new purpose driving my steps, while Hyunjin carefully made his way across the living room.

I opened the medicine cabinet to retrieve a familiar box, returning to our shared bedroom to find Hyunjin laying in bed, phone in hand as his eyelids fought to stay open. Gingerly, I handed him my current prescription of birth control, watching as he struggled to focus. “What’s this?”

“Surprise!”

“Isn’t there an easier way to tell me that you’re running low?”

I rolled my eyes at his question. “That’s not what I meant.”

Hyunin frowned, taking the box from me. “It’s almost 9:00, Y/N.”

“You’re really bad at subliminal messages,” I said, kneeling down on the bed. “I’m giving the rest of the prescription to you because I’m not taking it anymore.”

Hyunjin’s eyes slowly widened as he processed my words. “But that means...

“I don’t mind the idea of kids anymore,” I said. “Especially if they turn out like Jeongin.”

“Y/N,” Hyunjin grinned, wordlessly tackling me against the bed. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I am,” I informed him, tracing my fingers across his pretty lips. “I want to have kids with you. Preferably a boy, so we should start eating a ton of potassium.”

“What?”

“To increase our chances, Hyunjin,” I said. “There’s science behind the kind of diet you eat.”

“You’re trying to tell me that if I eat more potassium, then we’ll have a boy?”

“Well, it helps our chances.”

Hyunjin still appeared doubtful, but his eyes were warm. “Whatever you want.”

“That’s right,” I agreed brightly, wrapping my arms around his neck to draw him in closer.

“Y/N, I love you,” Hyunjin said, leaning down for a sweet kiss. “You know how much this means to me.”

“I know,” I agreed, snuggling up against his chest. “For the record, I love you more.”

“Should we put that to the test?”

I closed my eyes as I resisted a smile. “Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stay kids smut #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin smut

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earthfluuke · 4 years

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2020 creator wrap + follow forever

so...it’s january 2021. i am so stupidly late to this, but i’m finally doing it. i’m so sorry to everyone who tagged me in their own; i saw and appreciated all of your lovely words! much love to all of you ♡

follow forever:

@petekaos: rahul! it has been so wonderful getting to know you over the past year. sharing all of our ideas and taking things far more in depth than we have to have been some of the highlights of the past year. you’re my petekao buddy; truly, no one understands my love for them quite like you. you are so creative and talented, and you inspire me to put so much effort and thought into my own works. please know how kind, insightful, and brilliant i think you are!

@asianmelodrama: faiza, you are a light that breaks through any and all darkness. you are just so uplifting and optimistic, and it’s impossible for that not to rub off on to others. analyzing 2gether with you sparked so much joy and inspiration in me. you just get things that other people don’t, and i can’t explain how great it feels to be understood in such a way. never dull the sparkle you put into this world, because it is the very best thing about you.

@weilongfu: talking to you about all of our different aus got me through so much of 2020. it was always such a fun, lighthearted way to get through some of the tougher times. i love that we can go completely left field, and yet it still makes perfect sense to us. you keep so much of the simplicity and fun alive in these fandoms, and i cannot express how much i appreciate that!

@earthpodd: dad!!! you have been such a grounding, warming presence in my life this year. you’re so comforting and understanding and patient, and your overwhelming kindness is so admirable. our conversations are always so safe, and when i say it means the world to me, i say it with my entire chest. thank you for everything you’ve done for me, because all of it matters so very much to me.

@premswarut: alexa, talking to you about the gifted was always such a fun experience. predicting and worrying together made the experience of watching the show so much more fun. i look forward to this year, where we can hopefully have more of those conversations together. your insight is always so wonderful.

@0ffgun: my oli. of course you’re here, because how could you not be? the fact that we only began talking in 2020 astounds me, because it feels like we have known each other forever. you have become one of my dearest friends, and i am just genuinely so happy that we’ve come into each other’s lives. you are such a comfortable person for me, and i can only hope i am the same for you. i wish nothing but the best for you always, because if anyone deserves it, it’s you.

+ more lovely people who i love to see on my dash: @bldramagalore // @brightwin // @sarawatism // @planthusbands // @fiat-pattadon // @pallyson // @yihwas // @emisfritish // @gunsatthaphan // @khaotungthanawat // @offgunatp // @vihokratanas // @mark-kit

creator wrap: 5 works from this year i’m proud of

1. my petekao week works for days one, three, & seven: technically, these are three works, but i’m grouping them together since they all belong to the same prompt week. writing these was a STRUGGLE (ask rahul, he’ll tell you the chaos i went through to get these done). i’m pretty sure i stayed up until 4am writing each one? that’s what happens when one of your favorite pairings has a dedicated week at the same time you have finals. they’re all very different, but each of them are topics i’ve wanted to write about for a while and i’m really happy with how they all turned out.

2. nymph!tine au: again, this isn’t one work, but they all belong to the same au. i was in such a writing funk; and then 2gether came out. i was able to creatively stretch myself so much with these fics. i tend to add a lot of lengthy descriptions in my writing, and i’ve always seen that as a bad thing. but these fics warrant such long, poetic prose, and that’s what i’ve come to love the most about them. i adore the universe i’ve created, and even more so, i adore how many people found joy in it. i hope when spring of this year hits, i can add more to it.

3. #bestofbl2020 gif sets: i made almost 30 gif sets within the span of one month, one for each day. i feel like i’m allowed to group these into one. i was having such a hard time coming up with gif ideas, and this gave me a way to get back into the swing of things. every gif is from a series i adore, and it was fun reflecting back on all the lovely media from the past year.

4. tutor & pete!twin au gifs & fics: the first gif set i made for this au was meant to be a one off, random thing. but then people responded so well to it, and i thought ‘i could do something with this.’ and i did. and i love it. seriously, twins tutor & pete is one of those things that’s just so simple. there are no frills. it’s just fluff and silliness, and sometimes, that’s all you need. i hope i can continue with them this year, because i’m no where near done with them.

5. bi pride gif set: need i really say anything more?

here is to the new year! i hope each and every one of you can find some kind of positivity and happiness in it, in whatever way that means to you!

#non bl #stfu madeline #tag game #tag games

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lettersfromn0where · 4 years

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ZFAW: Self-Love Saturday

For the last day of @zkfanworkweek!

It’s no secret that I love writing more than almost anything in existence, or that I’m somewhat absurdly passionate about my work. I’m well aware that a handful of people probably think this is annoying (how many people who have had the misfortune to be in any kind of chat with me never want to hear the name “Hina Oyama” again? Probably most of them), and I was hesitant to do this at all because I know I can be self-centered and I’m trying to work on that. But I realized that I’m not doing this for feedback or because I want people to read my work - if I were to talk about my fic like this, it would be coming from a place of excitement about sharing something I love with others, not about finding new readers. (Have I done a little too much networking of that kind? Yes. Am I proud of it? Not at all. That’s why I had to make sure that that wasn’t why I was doing this.)

So I’m going to go for it, and give you guys the background behind a few of my favorite things I’ve written. Stories below the cut.

Story #1: The One That Taught Me That It’s Okay to Fail As a Writer

and I'll write you a tragedy (June 2020)

I wrote this back in June, when I was first getting into AtLA - I think it was my third or fourth published Zutara fanfic. I didn’t have many friends yet; most of the ones I talked to at the time, I've since lost touch with. So my participation in the fandom was largely isolated. I’d just write things and yeet them into the void without a care in the world - that’s what I did with “And I’ll Write You a Tragedy.” I had this grand idea that it would be ~the angstiest thing ever written~ and I was SO excited to get home (I was at the beach when I got the idea) so I could work on it...

Only to find that I simply wasn’t ready for the story I was trying to tell.

Oh, I wrote it, and it was...decently well-reviewed for something that caused me so much existential angst. But it fell so short of the concept that I had for it that, the moment I hit “post,” I was so frustrated that burst into tears. (Like a kindergartner. One can never say I deserve to be called an adult.) I wanted to establish myself in this new fandom so badly that anything I perceived as substandard was a crushing failure. And it was the process of talking myself through that frustration that taught me something I’ve tried to hold close ever since: every writer writes a dud every once in a while. No one is at the top of their game 100% of the time; those who appear to be probably don’t post the duds. Should I have posted this, then? Well, the jury is out on that. I still hate it. But it deserves a spot here just for the lesson it taught me.

Story #2: the One That Broke the Angst Ceiling

who lives, who dies, who tells your story (July 2020)

I have no idea how this took my angst from the coltish awkwardness of “sort of sad, but not very well-done” to genuinely depressing, but it did. Maybe I should blame quarantine and all of the difficulties that brought with it, or just the additional writing experience I had gained by that time. Whatever the reason, I remember this - even though it never got very popular - as an absolute triumph for me as a writer, because this is when I FINALLY learned how to write effective angst. For *years* I had thought I was simply incapable of writing anything sad, but this showed me that I wasn’t. I’ll never understood what flipped the switch (maybe it was @hiniwalay, whose help in forming this idea was invaluable...I love and miss you so much <3), but it’s a very important part of my writing journey even so.

Story #3: The One That Got Inexplicably Popular

Tethered (Zutara Week - written in June 2020, posted in late July 2020)

Zutara Week 2020 was sort of the point at which I established myself in this fandom and I have super fond memories of the warm reception I received at the time. It was such a positive, encouraging experience - and perhaps the one and only time that people have actually wanted to indulge my somewhat ridiculous obsession with fluff. And this was sort of the peak of my entrance into the ZK fandom.

And I am...not sure how I feel about that.

Soulmate AUs are obviously super popular, so I knew that “Tethered” was going to be one of my better-recieved ZKW fics if I did it even marginally well. What I did NOT expect was that, by the time of this post, it would be exactly tied with The Waiting Game for my most kudos’d work. It’s almost insane to me that that is a thing, because, while I don’t hate how “Tethered” came out, I definitely don’t feel like it deserved the hype it got. It’s...just another soulmate AU, but seeing that I was capable of writing something that people would gobble up did wonders for my confidence - and, I think, for my reputation in the fandom as well. It was definitely a mile-marker on my journey, even if I would rather it have been a different ZKW oneshot (this one was my favorite).

Story #4: The Twitter Favorite

Four Days and Three Nights (written August 2020)

I will never, ever forget the day I posted this.

I joined a Zutara group chat on Twitter just before Zutara Week 2020 began, and I quickly became...a little bit desperate for their attention. “The Waiting Game” (much more on that later) sprung from that desperation, but this was the one that actually did something about it. Which is funny, because it was actually a complete accident! 4D3N, as it is affectionately called on Twitter, was the result of my dumb butt reading “Five,” thinking “I want to write something that depressing!”, and just...going for it. I told myself not to overthink things as I desperately banged out the 3166 words of this story in two hours (because I needed to go for a run before it got dark and didn’t start writing until 3), and that is probably the one and only time in my entire life that telling myself something like that actually worked. Writing 4D3N was just sort of this rush that I barely even had time to recognize while I was caught up in it and the result was something I genuinely felt that I could be proud of - that’s pretty rare. My Twitter friends went slightly insane, half of them wanted to stab me (in a good way), and I finally felt like I actually belonged in this fandom - like I had done something to earn a place there. [Caveat: fandom is for everyone and you never need to “earn the right” to be in one, but my brain latched onto the idea that I didn’t deserve to be creating things for a fandom that didn’t want me and would not let it go. Figures.] Lately, I’ve been struggling with this one a little bit because it’s getting a lot of comparisons to “Five” in which it never fares favorably, for obvious reasons, and it was never actually my favorite fic to begin with, but it still means a lot to me. This is the one I recommend to people who are curious about my work and probably always will be.

Story #5: The Sleeper Favorite

Lean On (written August 2020)

I have no earthly idea why I like this one so much, but it has to be my favorite oneshot I have up. It’s hurt-comfort and dives into the implications of the Agni Kai for Zuko’s health, both physical and mental - maybe it’s the uniqueness of that premise that endeared it to me, or maybe the personal-ness...is that a word?...of the narrative. The bare-bones summary: Zuko’s health is declining a year after the Agni Kai, Katara shows up to do something about that, and what follows is a year of Pain and Heartache for both of them as they try to navigate their conflicting feelings for each other. But really, it’s a story about healing: physically, yes, but also mentally and emotionally. I certainly relate a lot to Katara in “Lean On,” as I’ve been the friend caught in the crossfire of others’ battles with their mental health many times and I wanted to try to write from both sides of that conflict. But I think I probably wrote more of myself into Zuko than I originally anticipated, as well. Quarantine has not been good for my mental health...at all...and I’ve found myself lashing out at my family far more than I should without even knowing why, isolating myself and growing thorns so that no one would come near me. I hate seeing myself like that, and I hate that I can't seem to make myself do anything about it. So really, I was hashing out my own feelings both past and present, and what I ended up with, whatever you might think of its quality, came from the heart. I also, for whatever reason, really liked my writing here, so I have a special place in my heart for “Lean On.”

Story #6: The Fluff I Didn’t Hate

Waffleosophy (written September 2020)

Look, there's not a lot to say about this, but it’s definitely my favorite fluff that I’ve ever written. I felt like I finally managed to hit the right note with this so that it came off as sweet without being saccharine, and it feels...I don’t know, wittier than what I usually write? I write a lot of fluff but something about “Waffleosophy” made it feel more polished and coherent than most of my other fluff. This was one that, as ridiculous as its premise was, I felt like I could truly be proud of; since I’m often a bit ashamed of how much of my work is fluff (it feels like “cheating” sometimes, as if I write this way because I lack the skill for real emotional beats), that’s saying a lot.

Story #7: the Insanely Niche AU

Once In a Lifetime (ongoing)

This one gets updated at the speed of snail, but. ZK ice dance AU. It just makes me so HAPPY.

Story #8: The One That Actually Did What It Was Meant To Do

Hanabi (written October/November 2020)

This heading is ironic because this was originally supposed to be an angsty slow-burn about surviving on an uninhabited island. Instead, it became as unerringly Sarah S---- as any fic ever has. Oops.

Hanabi sprung from a desire to write something incredibly soft and wholesome. Seriously. That’s it. I had just finished writing a story that got a lot more violent and dark than I had expected it to, and I wasn’t comfortable with that; I wanted to return to my roots, if you will, and write something ~soft~. I wanted to write about good people, doing good things, being good to each other, with as much tender pining as I could cram in on the side. I wanted unique worldbuilding and a relationship that had to be built rather than handed over under the guise of Soulmateism (because this was the period in which I hated The Waiting Game and everything it stood for, aka...that. It was a weird time). And I actually? Did all of that? There’s this F. Scott Fitzgerald quote about how writers have to “sell their hearts” that I think about often, and I did that here. This has as much of my heart in it as anything ever will, I think, and if I had to pick a favorite thing that I have ever written, it would be “Hanabi.” I love it a lot.

Story #9: The One You Knew Was Coming

The Waiting Game series (written July-October 2020)

I have so many feelings about this that I can’t even really articulate them all. Where would I even start?

There was the fact that the first installment was written in two weeks (thirteen days, 94,832 words) to try to get the attention of a Twitter chat. There was the matter of Hina Oyama, my blog’s namesake, an OC who took on an absolutely massive life of her own to the point where she was quite literally my coping mechanism over the summer and I annoy everyone I know by constantly banging on pots and pans and screaming about her. There was the way this universe spiraled outwards from its original installment and now has three generations, two sequels, and a prequel in progress (Hina’s origin story, which I am writing for a friend but will most likely never post). There were the friends I made because of this series and all of the inside jokes and headcanons we’ve developed while discussing it. There were all of the existential crises I had (over negative comments, over whether or not this career-defining series is even decent, over the moral implications of writing about people getting stabbed in the sequel...please don’t ask). There is the fact that everyone I come into contact with now knows what Haang is, and that by a close-reading of any passage about Hina or Kya, you could probably learn a lot about me.

But all I can say, in the end, is that I don’t know if I’ve ever written something that I fell in love with so quickly as I did “The Waiting Game,” or that had as much lasting impact upon me. (It has been five months, and I’m STILL writing in this universe, still talking about it constantly.) I know my TWG obsession is a little annoying, and I know that this universe isn’t really anything special - but it’s special to me, and it always will be. Will I shut up? Abso-freaking-lutely not. Do I care if no one knows what my username means because it refers to an OC in a fic not a lot of people actually like? Not in the slightest! I won’t pretend that TWG is a perfect story, or even that it deserves to be thought of as particularly good, but I will absolutely defy anyone who tells me that I need to “get over it.” (No one has, but my brain likes to tell me that everyone is thinking it.)

I will never be over stories that move me, especially not ones I created.

And especially not Yangchen Oyama.

~finis~

#zfaw #self love saturday #oh yeah. I went OFF #man #I have so so so many feelings #zkfanworkweek #zutara fanworks appreciation week

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todaydreambelieversfic · 4 years

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Author Spotlight: Coffeegleek Day 3

Author : @coffeegleek

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

At least a few revisions. Then multiple editing passes, and even with my spouse as my proofreader for the past 25+ years, and doing more editing passes before posting to AO3, I still find annoying little typos, sometimes large ones.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

There was a crack fic I stopped writing years ago. It was a self-challenge during one of those tumblr trope challenges. I was trying to combine all of the tropes into the same fic as they were announced. It got zero traction though so I gave up. I'd love to go back and complete it, make it better. I had the whole thing outlined too.

What do you look for in a beta?

My spouse. We've been together for decades. He's been proofreading my original science fiction work and various fandoms' fanfics since before we were married. He even proofreads my Klaine smut and doesn't blink an eye. (He's a Glee fan too and on tumblr.) He knows what I'm trying to say when I can't find the right words and supplies them. He catches things I don't. What I love the most is for my original work, he's written his own fanfic. It's BAD. It truly is, but it's so heartfelt and earnest. He even came up with a soundtrack should I ever publish my sci-fi novel and the movie or show rights be bought. You really can't get a better beta than that. <3

There’s a number of friends on tumblr that I bounce ideas off of and who give me advice for topics they know far more about than me and google. I try to thank them in my fics.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I’m going to steal another author’s recent answer and say that I could never do someone else’s work justice. However, I would love to see the author’s ideas for their fics even if they couldn’t write a prequel or sequel.

I suck at remembering titles and author names. There were two political fics that I would love to read more of should their authors ever decide to write in those verses again. One was where Kurt and Blaine's dads were running for president and Kurt and Blaine were along for the ride, staying in the same hotels at time (where they first met,) having to do school remotely, having to be the perfect sons for the press and Blaine being fed up because his parents were conservative Republicans. Then there was another fic where Burt was president and Kurt was the First Son living in the White House, along with Finn, and it was hard to date when your every move is watched by the press.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I write AU, so canon is only a word often misspelled by me. :) Seriously though, I try to incorporate as many canon elements and characters into my AU fics as I can. It's the kind of AU I like to read as well. What draws me to read and write AUs is taking canon characters, putting them into a different setting, and seeing how they'll react. At their core, they still need to remain the same in principle and have many of the same traits. Like Kurt will always love fashion and be headstrong no matter what. Blaine is always going to have that spark within himself, no matter how depressed or oppressed he gets. Burt and Carole are always going to be loving and nurturing parents at heart. Even in fics where Burt isn't woke, there's a part of him that means well. (Not one of my own fics, but one I read a long time ago.) Different circumstances will change the canon characters and make them react in different ways though. Like, Kurt could end up more withdrawn and hide his love of fashion as a matter of survival and self preservation. He or Blaine could turn into "bad boys." Coach Beiste will always have a heart of gold. Miss Pillsbury will always have a problem with messes. Things like that. I know canon. Give me all the alternate universe versions of it and I will be a happy camper.

Talk about a review that made your day.

I haven't checked for reviews on my fics in ages (because I'm an insecure chicken) so I don't remember any specifically. I do remember there were many that made my day. There are those who take the time to review every chapter. Ones who write only a short note to thank me for writing the fic - both the angsty ones and the cracky fun ones. I love it when someone mentions something that no one else has that I was hoping someone would notice because I was proud of it. I'm not a popular author and don't get a lot of kudos or comments or reblogs compared to many. So each comment and kudos means a lot to me and I'd like to publicly thank every single person who wrote one or hit that kudos button.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I once got a troll who decided it was his job to complain that I had misspelled hors d'oeuvres in one sentence out of an entire verse where the word was written multiple times correctly. It was a series of Klaine Advent one shots for the Empty Nest verse. At first I was shocked and replied with an apology. Then I was, "F this. The person is a troll who didn't read any other part of the fic or verse, just this one quickly written one shot entry, and if all they had to say was that I'd misspelled a commonly misspelled word, then they aren't worth my time." I deleted the comment. There's concrit and trolling. It wasn't concrit.

What advice do you have for people just starting to write?

Have fun writing, even the hard stuff. Know that it's okay to take breaks. Try your best and know you'll get better the more you write and the more you read. Pronouns are your friend and free. Don't put, "I know this is going to suck, so whatever," in your fic description. We all suck at times. It's a part of writing. But if you want folks to read it, using that as your fic's summary isn't the way to go. Just my opinions, which won't even buy you a cup of coffee.

Which fic do you most like to discuss with other people? Why?

I think it’s pretty obvious from all of my rambling that I enjoy talking about both of my series - Empty Nest verse and A Very Hallmark Christmas verse. I'm not a popular author and I know my fics, especially the Empty Nest verse ones, aren’t everyone’s thing, so I never get to really discuss them except with friends that I bug to death in private and via long replies to comments on AO3. (You all are saints blessed by all of the good and patient gods.) I have so much to say about them - the process of writing them, the world building, research, and character decisions that went into every single one. I know they’re not perfect. I know the Empty Nest verse grew miles beyond the ficlette about Burt and Carole that it was meant to be. I know my sense of humor in the Hallmark verse isn’t everyone’s thing either. I still worked really hard on them and am glad that I did. Empty Nest let me release a lot of the fear and anxiety I had for my Hispanic and gay son after the 2016 election. The Hallmark ones were a needed break to put some humor into my life. If others enjoyed them, great. If folks want to know more, my inbox is always open.

What's one aspect of writing fic that gets you really excited?

Writing humor even if I'm the only one that finds it funny. As I said above, writing the Hallmark Christmas movie dialogue and plot and the actors as they were filming it was a blast. Writing the commercials was fun and exciting. In my angsty fics, knowing I wrote a good scene, line, or moment that brought out all the feels. That's more of “satisfaction of a job well done” than excited.

***

Check out Coffeegleek’s Fics

Humorous Spooky Drabbles - Humorous drabbles to spookish type prompts based on a tumblr post called October Drabble Prompts #1 by hallofceleano. The parts in bold and italic are from those prompts. Characters include Kurt, Blaine, Burt, Carole, and Finn. All fun; only #4 has some mild angst. #4 is for snarkyhag and regarding #5 - I know next to nothing about Twilight and had to look up Taylor Lautner on imdb. The liberties I took are my own.

A Very Sloppy Christmas - lucy8675309 posted to tumblr a series of gifs with Kurt dressed up as an elf. It inspired me to write the following prompt, which CoffeeAddict80 encouraged me to write as a fic:

I now want a fic where real Santa’s elf!Kurt gets drunk and vents to Blaine about all the woes of working for Santa. He’s over 100 years old and the outfits are terrible. Why couldn’t they wear clothes like the elves did in that one movie? Drunk elf Kurt has no idea he’s venting to Santa’s son.

Bonus if he wakes up and realizes he just had a drunken one night stand. He isn’t sure who it was with. Only that he’s naked, the guy in the bed beside him is naked and showing off a really great ass. Then said guy turns over and after Kurt’s done staring at his dick, he looks at the guy’s face and realizes who it is.

It’s a Twisted World - I decided to challenge myself by combining the posted 5 weekly Klaine AU Friday themes and adding another one of my own. So that means: Farm, Fairytale, Vintage (1900’s,) Super Powers, Zombie Apocalypse, and Harry Potter World Klaine with a splash of a fic idea I thought of while in the produce section of the grocery store. Each week, the story will continue, though each part stands alone. This is not a brilliant work of perfectly composed fan fiction. What it is, is fast-paced, cracky fun, with a large dose of innuendo. At least it had my son laughing his ass off. I hope y'all enjoy it too. :)

#author spotlight #coffeegleek

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 39 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Things were looking rocky for Violet and Sutan.

This Chapter: Sutan tries to get some answers.

***

“I would ask what you’re doing here-” Violet was looking straight ahead, her spine perfectly straight, “but I assume that that’s an Elite model.”

“Correct.” Sutan barely kept himself from shifting from foot to foot as he stood behind her, his hand curled into a fist inside of his suit pocket.

It had been less than a week since he had last seen Violet, less than a week since he had kissed her, but it felt like forever.

“I was hoping-” Sutan bit his lip, keeping his voice low, nodding to one of the Galactica employees who walked by him, keeping up pretense that this was perfectly normal, that he wasn’t talking to Violet at all, but simply standing behind her.

He had no idea what he was hoping for, had no idea why he had gone along with Raja’s insane plan, but he had to know, had to figure out what had happened between them. “Violet, can we talk?”

"I'm at work." Violet didn’t look back at him, but she wasn’t walking away either. He had never experienced her so standoffish before, had never not been near the center of attention when he was around her.

"So am I?" Sutan wanted to take a step forward, wanted to reach out and touch her, but he knew it wouldn’t be appreciated.

"Then you're not doing a very good job at it."

Sutan clenched his fist, a flare of anger burning through him. He wanted to give into it, wanted to reprimand her for sarcasm and throw it back in her face, but he forced the emotions down.

“I just want five minutes of your time.”

"To do what exactly?" Violet shifted from one foot to the other, crossing her arms even as she still looked ahead.

"To discuss something I know you don't want me to say in public."

"Sutan-"

He wasn’t proud of how immensely satisfying it was to hear her waver, how good it felt to hear the quiver in her voice, but it meant that he was right, meant that somewhere, something had gone wrong, and that they had a chance to fix it.

"Please."

"Fine." Violet looked around the room, probably making sure that she could actually leave, before she turned and left. She hadn’t asked him to, but Sutan still waited for a few seconds before he followed her into the hall, making sure they weren’t acting suspicious.

Sutan looked left and right, wondering for a moment if Violet had bailed, but then, she was there waving him over as she swiped her key card, opening a door to an empty office, gesturing for Sutan to go inside.

“There.” Violet closed the door behind them, turning the lock before she looked at him. “Say whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Sutan raised an eyebrow, anger rearing its head once again. “You’re acting very hostile for an adult who thought it was cool to send a breakup text.”

Violet flinched, and Sutan had to force himself not to smile at the pain he had caused her, forcing his thumb in the wound so satisfying.

“And writing ‘Thank you for everything’? What does that even mean?”

“It means exactly that.” Violet crossed her arms, her lips set in a thin line. “Thank you. For everything.”

“So you meant it?”

“What gave you the impression I didn’t?”

“You’re seriously breaking up over a text?” It wasn’t often that Sutan could feel his control slipping, but it was impossible not to raise his voice. “Are you kidding me? Who does that?”

Violet didn’t say anything, and somehow, that only made it worse.

“Who are you? The Violet I know wouldn’t act like this, she isn’t cold or cruel-”

At those words, Violet flinched once again, Sutan apparently hitting her exactly where it hurt.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

The fingers on Violet’s upper arm tightened, digging into her own flesh, and for a moment, Sutan thought she’d really stay silent, that she’d refuse to say anything, but then, she spoke.

“Maybe you don’t know me.”

Sutan snorted, the response so bratty and selfish. “Apparently not.”

This time, instead of a quick flinch, Sutan saw Violet’s entire face crumble, her eyes widening, hurt radiating from them before she managed to resculpt her expression.

“I, I know it wasn’t fair of me to send that text but I couldn’t see you, I couldn’t do it if I-”

It wasn’t much, but it was all the sign Sutan needed to be confirmed in the fact that they were making a mistake.

“Violet-” Sutan took a step forward, but Violet moved back, her back pressing against the door. “Let’s talk. Please.”

“No.” Violet shook her head. “I don’t think we should be together. This isn’t working.”

“I don’t accept that.” Now, it was apparently Sutan’s turn to be selfish, Sutan’s turn to be the brat. “We’re great together.”

Sutan couldn’t remember the last time he had essentially begged someone to stay with him, wasn’t even sure if he had ever done it, girls usually the ones begging him, but he refused to let Violet go without a fight, refused to let her think she could just slip away.

“I like you.”

“Stop.” Violet looked like she was about to cry, her nails digging in. “Stop saying you like me when I can’t be the person you want.”

“What?” Sutan felt like his brain rebooted. Couldn’t be the person he wanted? “What do you mean?”

“Do I have to say it?” Violet’s brown eyes were blank with unshed tears. “We don’t belong in the same world.”

“I thought we had already talked about this?” When he had found out that Violet was an assistant, Violet had voiced the same concerns, had told him that they couldn’t be together because of status, but Sutan had never cared about status, at least not status like this.

He had told Violet as much, had spent time with her in Paris which she hadn’t reacted to, so it couldn’t be status she was talking about.

“I don’t care-”

“Well I do!”

Sutan almost took a step back, Violet actually raising her voice.

“Is this about my age?”

Sutan knew he had asked, that he had asked more than once, but 18 years was a big difference, and it was the only thing he could think of, the only thing that made sense.

“No!” Violet’s eyes widened, a genuine expression of surprise on her beautiful features. “No, no of course not.”

“Then what are you talking about?” Sutan didn’t want to raise his voice, didn’t want to lose his cool, but he was dangerously close to it. “I don’t understand, and I’ve been killing myself trying to figure it out-”

“I’m not one of your IT Girls.” Violet threw her arms out, obviously beyond frustrated.

“.... What?” Sutan knew he had to be staring like Violet had grown a second head, but he couldn’t believe the words that had just left her mouth. “What are you talking about-”

“I can’t pose for photos or be online like Raven,” Violet bit her lip, one of her hands grabbing the sleeve of her shirt, her fingers twisting into the fabric. “I can’t go to events with a moments notice in brand new clothes no one has ever seen before-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, no one’s asking you to-”

“You told me Monday,” Violet looked directly at him, “that I had to go to a party on Friday for one of the biggest fashion editors in New York.”

“Oh.” Sutan paused, feeling like an absolute idiot. “Was that the first time I told you about Bianca’s party?

“Yes!”

“Well shit.” Sutan put a hand in his pocket, chewing on his lip. He was so sure he had told Violet that they would be going together, and knew for a fact that he had told Bianca weeks in advance, but he also knew that he had a terrible tendency to forget to actually include others in his plans, Raja chewing him a new one in Paris for the fact that he hadn’t told Violet they would be at the dinner. “Sorry about that.”

Violet froze, her eyes narrowing. “Sorry?”

“Yes.” Sutan nodded. “Sorry. That was my bad.”

“I-” Now, Violet was the one looking at him like he had grown a second head. “How are you so calm?”

“How are you so calm?” Sutan smiled, throwing it right back at her. “At this point I’m used to girlfriends throwing plates at me.”

It was true. At this point, he would usually be defending his life in fear of flying objects or risking an eardrum from the excessive melodrama and yelling.

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“And?” He knew they were still fighting, knew that they were still arguing, but he couldn’t help it. “You could be, if you wanted to-“

“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?” Violet sounded genuinely frustrated. “I can’t be that IT Girl, I can’t do those things-”

“I have, and I don’t understand what the problem is?” Sutan shrugged. “You don’t need to be an IT Girl, you don’t need to act like something you're not. I haven’t asked you to be on social media, actually I kinda like that you’re not-”

Sutan knew he was going on a tangent, but for once, it was nice not to have to pose for photos, nice not to have an audience in his relationship, nice to know with absolute certainty that Violet wasn’t doing things with him for some sort of performance of a perfect lifestyle.

“-and if you don’t want to be in pictures, that’s not a problem either.”

“You’re not listening.” Violet almost groaned. “I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

“And you’re not listening to me. Violet. I don’t want you to be the person you think I want you to be. I just want you to be you. I like you, and I like us, and I like it when you’re my girlfriend.”

“Is that what you really want?” Violet looked at him. “For us to be…” Violet gestured vaguely, and Sutan realized that they hadn’t actually had that conversation yet, that they hadn’t made it official between them, but now that it was on the table, now that he knew Violet didn’t actually want to break up, he was absolutely certain.

“I’d like that a lot.”

“I’d like that too.” Violet smiled, and Sutan took a step forward, pulling her in by the waist for the kisses he had craved since arriving. He pushed her against the door, Violet moaning into the kiss, her fingers tightening on his shirt.

“Mmh.” Sutan hummed, pressing his body against her. It felt wonderful to drown in her, felt so good that he couldn’t help but reach out, his hand reaching for her ass, his hips thrusting toward.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Sorry,” Sutan grinned, pausing as he put space between them, his right hand still grabbing a handful of her perfect ass. “Not sorry.”

“You,” Violet focused on him, her cheeks flush. “You have lipstick on your face.”

“Better kiss it away than.” Sutan smirked, capturing her lips once again.

***

“Mmmh,” Bob tapped his fingers against his mug, watching as Violet stepped up to the machine. Maxwell and Jovan were discussing their Halloween costumes, Jovan talking about some party he was going to in Brooklyn.

“Hey, Violet?”

“Yes?”

Bob had been in tailoring all day, overseeing the fittings. He couldn’t sew anything original to save his life, but he had a knack for the math behind it all, Bob in charge of purchasing and the more technical aspects of the project management they constantly did in design.

“What the deal with you and Sutan Amrull?” Bob asked, a sly grin on his face, Maxwell and Jovan going quiet the second he said Sutan’s name. Bob hadn’t been looking, but it had been impossible not to notice that Violet had mysteriously disappeared, Sutan sneaking out just behind her, Bob’s eagle eyes instantly seeing that Violet wasn’t wearing lipstick when they had returned, and he had been dying to ask her about it all day.

“Who?” Violet didn’t look away from the machine, pressing the buttons Jovan had shown her earlier. “Oh, you mean Raja’s brother?”

“Come on!” Bob snorted. “Tell us. Is something going on there? I saw you leave-”

Violet paused, her fingers around the mug she had selected.

Jackpot.

“And I saw you come back with no lipstick on.” Bob grinned, his fingers almost tingling with the excitement he was feeling. “You were wearing lipstick this morning.”

“If this is true, I’m filing a complaint.” Maxwell smiled, crossing his arms. “Sutan Amrull is so hot.”

Bob wiggled his brow, thankful for the fact that Maxwell played along, his boyfriend always knowing exactly what to say in his own weird way.

“You think?” Violet picked up her mug, blowing on the hot beverage. Her face was impassive, but Bob swore he could almost see a smile play on the corner of her lips.

“I would climb him like a tree.” Maxwell smirked, causing both Violet and Jovan to laugh, Violet leaning against the table.

“Now come on Chachki!” Bob urged, hoping that Maxwell had buttered her up. “Spill the tea.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Violet took a sip of her coffee, and if Bob hadn’t seen them, he’d have almost believed her.

“So why was he in the same photos as you at that party?”

“How would I know?” Violet gave a sweet smile, lifting her mug before she turned around and walked back to her desk, Bob equal parts offended that she wouldn’t answer, and impressed with how well she had wormed her way out of it.

“I will get to the bottom of this, ma’am!” Bob yelled after her, looping an arm around Maxwell’s shoulders, pulling the man against his side.

“So,” Bob looked at the other two, Jovan swinging his legs as he was sitting backwards on a chair. “They’re totally fucking, right?”

“Why are you asking me?” Jovan raised a brow.

“You share a workstation! You should know everything about her!”

Bob loved his job, and he liked being a manager, but if there was one thing he hated about his position, it was the fact that he had his own desk and his own space.

“Yeah, we haven’t really discussed who she’s banging.” Jovan wrinkled his nose. “Sorry.”

“Well, I’m very disappointed in you,” Bob sighed, shaking his head sadly.

“I hope she is,” Maxwell grinned, reaching up and intertwining his fingers with Bob’s. “Someone should be.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Bob exclaimed, all three of them bursting out laughing.

***

Raja heard the door to her office open, soft music playing as she was attempting to fight the beast that was her email inbox.

“I’m busy.“ Raja has specifically told Ivy that she was unavailable for the rest of the day, but for all the great things her assistant was, insistent and firm wasn’t very high on the list.

“I found it.”

Raja looked up, a hint of excitement in Fame’s voice.

“Found what?”

“It!” Fame was smiling brightly, her lips red, her blonde hair curled, a tan coat over a white dress. “The inspiration!”

Fame walked over, sitting down in the chair in front of Raja’s desk, and Raja quickly saved the email she was writing, locking her computer since this could talk a while.

“Charles accidentally crushed one of our coffee mugs two weeks ago, so I’ve been meaning to replace them all.”

“Of course.” Raja hid a smile. It was so perfectly Fame, the woman somehow never done decorating or redecorating her house.

“I was walking around Sara, and that’s when I found it.” Fame reached into the small paper bag she was carrying, the sound of silk paper rustling when she dug into it. “Look!”

Fame pulled a ceramic cup out of the bag. It didn’t have a handle, the ceramic glaze a delicate light beige, little specks of golden freckles scattered all over it.

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

“I guess.” Raja took the cup, weighing it in her hand. She could see why Fame was attracted to it. It fit comfortably in her grasp, the craftsmanship of it both whimsical and to the point, the fact that it was handmade perfectly clear as Raja looked at it further.

“It’s what I want for the Spring collection.” Fame looked like she had just handed Raja the key, like she had given her a full portfolio of realized sketches, content and happiness radiating from her.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

***

“Coming in!” Violet giggled as Sutan pushed her, moving her out of the way so he could get back into bed. He had gone to get rid of the condom, Violet still naked under the duvet, and she knew she’d have to deal with it sooner or later, but right now, she just wanted to cuddle.

“Hey there.” Sutan smiled as she got into his space.

“Hey.” Violet smiled, tilting her head upwards for a kiss, which Sutan thankfully gave her, the man slipping underneath the duvet with her.

She loved being naked with Sutan, loved the feeling of skin against skin, loved the weight of his body when he pressed her down just like he did now, Violet’s legs falling open to allow him in.

She had come over right after work, Sutan undressing her before they had even reached the bedroom, her bra lost somewhere in the living room, but that hadn’t mattered when his hands had been roaming all over her body, those wonderful, wonderful hands.

Sutan tugged on her hair, and Violet moaned into the kiss, her hips stuttering at the electrifying pleasure pain, her toes curling.

“Huh.” Violet opened her eyes to see Sutan looking at her, his face illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Seems like someone liked that?”

“I-“ Violet swallowed, shame suddenly curling in her stomach.

“Hey,” Sutan smiled, his hand still in her hair. “I’m not judging,” Sutan leaned down, kissing her cheek. He wasn’t, of course he wasn’t, Violet was just about to open her mouth, to say thank you, when she felt a hot breath against her ear. “If only I could get hard again and fuck you like you deserve lovely eyes.”

“Oh-“ Violet swallowed a moan, her entire body suddenly flaming hot.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to pull your hair and ride you like a mare?”

Violet didn’t even register that she was nodding, wasn’t aware until she felt the warm chuckle, Sutan so close to her.

“How interesting.”

“I- I-“ Violet could feel how hard her nipples were, her pussy achingly empty and embarrassingly wet. “Hand.”

Sutan pulled back, leaning on his arms, a surprised expression on his face. “Hand?”

“Yes,” Violet reached up, her fingers catching Sutan’s forearm. “Hand.”

“Ah,” Sutan grinned, clearly catching on. “Hand. Of course.”

It was all she could think of, Sutan’s clever fingers buried deep in her, his thumb pressing against her clit, his lack of nails meaning he could touch and fuck and take in ways she’d never been able to herself.

“Please.”

“Your wish,” Sutan smirked, “is my command.”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #violet chachki #raja gemini #bob the drag queen #miz cracker #yvie oddly #miss fame #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au #smut

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branwyn-says · 4 years

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2020 fanfic review meme!

Thanks to @livenudebigfoot for tagging me and providing me with a legitimate excuse to reflect self-indulgently on my special interest: writing obsessive amounts of fic for Michael Emerson vehicles. What fic did I disgorge from my brain maw this year? This was the year I started writing for Person of Interest, the fandom that changed my life! I found a fannish community on the Subway discord and joined a whole bunch of exchanges, which I’d never done before.

In February for chocolate_box, I wrote 7 stories:

The Life of the World to Come (Person of Interest, Reese/Finch): Canon compliant fix it in which Reese wakes up in a lakeside cabin about 6 weeks after he died. Unspecified magical bargains were involved.

Arctic Flower (POI, Grace/Jessica): An AU in which Jessica rushes to assist Grace when a cyclist knocks her down in the park, and their friendship enables her to leave Peter before it’s too late.

A Bird of Foreign Tongue (POI, Reese/Finch): A sequel to Arctic Flower in which Harold finds still-in-the-CIA Reese and offers him an escape route.

Objet d’Art (POI, Finch/Grace): During a coffee date early in their pre-canon relationship, Harold has a guilty conscience about all the secrets he’s hiding from Grace.

Kintsugi (POI, Finch/Grace): The longer sequel to Objet D’art. Grace gets sick. She doesn’t have health insurance. Harold panics and decides to take care of her himself.

Incentives (POI, Reese/Fusco): John’s in the trunk.

Fixer-Upper (POI, Reese/Zoe Morgan): In every fandom, I write gender AUs. This one is Zoe Morgan taking always-a-girl!Reese under her wing.

Then in the spring, I wrote one story for the Hurt/Comfort Exchange and two for Exchange of Interest:

Line of Duty (POI, Reese/Fusco) 14k about Fusco making really self destructive life choices thanks to low self worth and unresolved trauma, while Reese is forced to stand back and wring his hands. And then, you know, exact a lot of vengeance. Harold has soup.

Number Every One (POI, Reese/Nathan): AU in which Nathan saves Jessica, and Reese comes asking questions.

Eden (POI, Reese/Jessica): A perfect, ordinary moment in John’s relationship with the one person who connects him to the world.

And then I wrote some stories for @livenudebigfoot because I enjoy making her happy.

An Indulgence (POI, Finch/Fusco): Fusco is having an emergency and Finch is there for him. My first foray into ABO and literally all they do is hug; is this my brand?

Bunnymoon (Lost, Ben Linus/John Locke): I acquired this whole new fandom/OTP without meaning to, and then I wrote 8000 words of animal shelter AU for it.

Shipoween was next, and I was very proud of the two stories I wrote because both of them are short and this is hard when you exhale novel-length plot outlines instead of carbon dioxide. Also they are both creepy and kinda experimental, like back in my Buffy days. It was also my first time pinch hitting for an exchange and I got a nice little buzz off pulling that off with one day to deadline.

a lucid dream (Lost, Ben Linus/John Locke): Ben is having a very bad dream, and it’s all his own fault.

One In the Eye (POI, Finch/Fusco): Harold’s a monster. Fusco’s a cryptid.

This was my first year doing a Big Bang exchange and the story I wrote for it is, in my own opinion, the best thing I have ever written.

Kingfishers (POI, Reese/Finch/Grace): An AU in which Harold didn’t introduce himself to Grace that day in the park. Years later, after Harold starts working with John, they receive her number.

I wrote a popular Star Trek fic in 2019 and then went more than a year and a half without updating, two chapters before the end. I’m sorry, I’m a monster. Now there’s only one chapter left before the end. I’m shooting to get it finished by the end of January. I’m sorry I suck so much.

K’diwa: A Steamy Novel of Interspecies Romance (Star Trek AOS, Kirk/Spock) And then, after a swift crash course in participating in fics and exchanges, I took on managing the POI Advent 2020 Calendar. I needed to write a five-parter in order to plug holes in the posting schedule, and a Muppet crossover was born.

A Muppet Christmas Carol, Starring Harold Finch (Person of Interest, Muppets)

Takeaways from reflecting on your kick-ass writing, or kick-ass lack of writing, during a year more focused on survival than perhaps any other:

I’ll be 39 next month. I’ve been writing seriously since I was 15. I was a very good writer for a 15 year old, for a 19 year old, but I could never have dreamed of writing the way I do now. No amount of hard work, practice, reading, conferring with other writers, editing manuscripts, or thinking about craft could have made me the kind of writer it’s possible for me to be in my late 30s. Youthful geniuses are a myth. I’m really grateful my agent couldn’t sell my novel 10 years ago--when I finish the next one I will get to introduce myself to the world as the writer I am now.

Most surprising fic you wrote this year:

Oh, definitely Bunnymoon. I had no idea I would be writing fic for Lost at all, much less that I would be writing a mundane AU with comedy and my first E rated scene in years. It is entirely the fault of bigfoot, who infected me with the fandom in general and the animal shelter concept in specific.

How you’ve grown as a writer this year:

I’ve learned a lot about what not to say--when to trust the reader--and I have benefited hugely from thinking hard about formal structure. Every idea used to turn into a novel whether I wanted to or not, but revisiting high school English lessons about short story structure vs 3 act structure has changed my whole game.

What’s coming in 2021:

I would really like to write one more story in my Harold & Grace series, another story in the Jessica Lives AU, and I’ll def. sign up for HCEX and Shipoween. But also, this year I am writing a novel. Tagging @theimprobable1, @liz-squids, @argylepiratewd, @sidewaystime

#meme #person of interest

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adventuresloane · 4 years

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The Wanted (Revised Hurloane Fic) -- Ch. 5

“They had nearly as many names as they had stories told about them. Ram. Raven. Red. Devil. Deputy. Outlaw. Short ‘n Long. Ghosts of the Rapids.”

Hurley’s a bounty hunter, the Raven is an outlaw, and the desert is a lonely place.

(The 50k+ Old West Hurloane AU Where Hurley Becomes A Thief Too that no one asked for. Updates every Friday. Edited and reposted from an old version of the story–more significant changes to come in later chapters. T for non-graphic violence and discussions of death/injury/trauma.)

Read on AO3

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Hurley had seen it coming for days, but even so, they felt a wave of sickness when they picked up the canteen and heard no more than two or three mouthfuls of water slosh around the metal interior.

It shouldn't have startled them the way it did. After all, they had been rationing their own water for a reason. They had been taking it by the capful like medicine doses, getting just enough to moisten their tongue, as if they could trick their body into feeling quenched. It took maybe an hour to sweat out that amount. Still, they had kept trying to enact a miracle, drinking smaller and smaller portions so that the supply would never quite run out, so that it would be effectively infinite. Ridiculous as that was, it kept them from considering the alternative. Which is why the alternative hit them harder than expected, when it became reality.

The inside of their throat itched. They wondered how parched their mouth would have to get before they became unable to speak, and then they squeezed their eyes shut, as though they could squeeze the idea out of their mind. Instead, they focused on the fact--and it was a fact, if they decided so--that they would not die of thirst. They called to mind the math that they had been churning through their head for days. There was one other full canteen of this size left. If they kept activity levels low and drank as little as possible, it could last two and a half days. A full three, maybe, if they were really careful. Then they would have the rest of the alcohol, which might dehydrate more than it helped, and then nothing at all.

Or they could leave behind everything here in search of more. And that would mean everything.

They left the supplies in the wagon and stuck their hand in their pocket so they could feel the teeth of the cuff key against the pad of their thumb. Outside, Sloane plucked out the notes to what sounded like some hymn they'd once known. When they walked up and sat silently a little ways from her, she only nodded once before going back to the music. Over the past few days, they had never told her to ration her own water. It had seemed unfair, when they were supposed to be the one looking out for her, and anyway, it had turned out to be unnecessary. They hadn't seen her take more than a sip at a time lately. That shouldn't have surprised them, given how often she stayed out here. What did catch their notice was the way that, when she drank, she would often glance over at them from under a furrowed brow, over and over.

But right now, she kept quietly twanging out the melody. The guitar hummed and whined. They looked at the sky above and found it as bone-dry and flat at the ground below. It was so, so very blue. They shut their eyes to it and simply focused on the sounds. She was making beautiful things happen over there. They hadn't noticed how quickly their heart had been beating until it began to slow, then. They listened until they started to feel the vibrations of the strings buzz inside their mind.

That's that little gut talking. Their mother poked their belly again, pressed her ear to it.

"I don't think you killed anyone," they said, and as they did, they realized, for the first time, that they really did believe it.

"Uh," Sloane said. "Thank you?"

They pressed on. "Am I right?"

"What?"

"Tell me whether I'm right. Did you kill anybody?"

They heard her make a derisive sound. "Why are you asking all of a sudden? It's just my word against everyone else's anyway. It won't make a--"

"I want to hear you say it." For the first time, they looked her in the eye.

There had been a small, lackadaisical grin on her face, but it was erased when they stared at her. She seemed abashed, then confused, but crucially, she held eye contact when she finally spoke. "No, Hurley," she said quietly. "I didn't kill anyone."

"Yeah," they breathed. "That's what I thought." Things went quiet again. Hurley thought of Bane, of one-person juries. They thought of the way he looked when he said that a bounty hunter was not a judge. Then, regardless, they stood up and said, "Sloane, come here."

"Well, alright, then, Your Highness."

They rolled their eyes. They should have expected that nothing would be easy right up until the end. "Please?"

She waited a moment longer, one brow cocked. Then she set down her instrument and took a few slow steps over. As soon as she was close enough, Hurley bent down and unlocked the shackles around her ankles with hands that, they were proud to say, stayed steady the whole time.

She took off before they could blink. Turned on her heel quickly enough to kick sand in their face. Like she had been waiting for it, which she had. In the seconds afterward, the air around them felt strange and unusually still, the way it did just after a deafening sound. They hadn't exactly expected a long goodbye, but they had thought that she wouldn't leave without a word--that she would at least take the time to get supplies. But that was it, the. Well, it wasn't as if she owed them anything.

They thought that the flapping wing of her black hair behind her was the last they would see of her. Then, almost as quickly as she had started running, she stopped. She looked behind her, and the positively gleeful smile on her face faltered. After a few seconds, she slowed and then halted all together, simply standing and staring Hurley's way.

They looked right back at her. It seemed like she was waiting for something from them, though what, they couldn't say. After awhile, they simply gave a small shrug. "You're free to go.” They picked up the chains from the ground, hung them on their forearm, and started to walk away.

"Hey, wait!"

They did. She was poised to dart off again at any moment, but she didn't. Instead, she kept on blinking and blinking at Hurley, mouth open. "Why aren't...you're not going to come after me?"

"Nope."

Over and over again, she looked down at her feet, as if to ensure that the manacles were really gone. "Did you..." she started shakily. "Did you do that on purpose?"

They chuckled in spite of the strange sinking feeling inside their chest. "You don't really still think I'm that dense, do you? I wouldn't have let that happen by accident."

By now, she had transitioned from confusion to outright shock. Her head whipped back and forth rapidly, from the horizon and the open space to Hurley again. Then, suddenly, she shook her head. "Nononononono." She wagged her finger and, for some bizarre reason, laughed without humor. "Come on, what are you trying to do?"

"Um." Briefly, they looked around at the hobbled wagon with its missing wheels, the dust-covered pile of second-hand cooking supplies, and the stretch of flat nothing for miles around. "Listen, I don't know what kind of nasty plan you think I have in mind, but I'm probably not equipped for it."

"Ha!"

"I don't think you're getting it. I'm letting you go, alright? Isn't that all you've been trying to do for this entire time, is get away from me?"

"I could've done it myself," she blurted.

"Okay--"

"I could've."

"Well, for the gods' sake, do you want to come over here so I can try to let you go again? I'll try to make it look like an accident this time if that makes you feel bett--"

"No! No, I'm just..." She let out a long breath and ran a hand down her tired face. "I'm just trying to...this doesn't make any fucking sense! Why now?"

They sighed. Their saliva was thick and tasted bitter. "I failed. I said I was going to bring us both back to Goldcliff in one piece, but I can't do that. Not with how we're running low on supplies. And I'm not going to risk your life trying to do it. You didn't sign up for that. So there. What? What do you want? This?" They held up the key to the cuffs. As they tossed it on the ground in front of her feet, out of their own reach, they said, "Take it! I don't need it anymore." She kept on standing there. Finally, they huffed and extended their arm in the direction of the Western sun behind her. "Go. I'm serious."

Sloane still didn't move. Her arms had fallen down to her sides, and she was no longer in a position to flee. She just continued looking on. When, finally, she spoke, it was in a far smaller voice than before. "Posters say 'Dead or Alive.'"

It took a moment for them to process the meaning of that, but when they did, it hit them right between the eyes. First they felt the surprise and then the sting of it. "You really think I'd kill you for the money?"

There was a moment of quiet--consideration, maybe?--before she answered, "Guess not."

"What, then? That I'd keep you here when there wasn't enough water for the both of us? That I would...that I'd stop letting you have what was left? Seriously, you believe I'd do that?"

By now her eyes were cast downward. She took a deep breath and turned her head away. "Dunno. I've only known you for a few weeks," she mumbled.

They shouldn't have felt insulted. It was true, after all--their job had been to get the Raven, or rather her body, back to town one way or another. And even if they had never intended to harm her, there was no reason they should have expected a prisoner to think any better of her captor. But maybe they had expected it anyway. After sleeping side-by-side for many nights and talking through the days, they thought that they had opened enough of themself to her, that she would have been able to just look and see for herself who they were. "Well, I wouldn't," they said quietly. Their back was to her now.

They had gone back to sorting through supplies, to see what they would need to go on living, when they heard the slow approach of footsteps from behind. She picked up the key from the ground before she kept stepping, almost gingerly, toward them. She stopped well before she was within their reach, but still, she was close enough now that they could get a good look at her eyes, which were wide and wondering. "You're serious, aren't you? I'm free?" A smile had begun to form on her lips as she spoke.

They weren't sure whether to laugh or moan in frustration. They did a little of both. "Yes, you seriously are."

She laughed in a way that they hadn't heard her laugh yet, soft and high, almost a twitter. Already, the way she carried herself was different, her back straighter and her movements looser. It looked as if a weight, heavier than the weight of the irons alone, had been taken off her. They felt a little lighter too.

A moment later, though, she snapped back to look at them, her smile sloughing. "What about you? I mean, what are you going to do if not stay out here?"

Hurley swallowed. It was an excellent question, and one that they hadn’t really allowed themself to think too hard about before now. They sucked in a breath and tried to grin. "Well, start walking just like you, I suppose, right? I’ll just sort of retrace the steps I took to get here with the posse before.”

Sloane snorted. “Okay,” she chuckled.

“Okay what?”

“No, I’m sure you’ll do just great out there.”

Hurley scoffed as they started putting together a sack of what remaining supplies they could carry. “I can take care of myself.”

“Which way’s the river?”

They paused to think for an amount of time that was unlikely to inspire confidence, then abruptly pointed behind them.

“Was that a guess?”

“No.” It only took a few more seconds of her staring at them until they conceded, “...Yeah.”

“The biggest bend in it is quite a few days’ walk off to the northwest,” she sighed. Hurley went back to shoving cans into their sack, until she kept walking up to them and closed the gap. She plucked the strap of the bag from their hands. “And you shouldn’t be traveling this time of day either. You know it’s too hot.”

They looked at her. “Well, you shouldn’t be either.”

“Guess not.”

They stood there for a little while.

Sloane scuffed her foot in the sand and muttered, “I didn’t think, um...this is really weird. I guess I should thank you?”

“You could.” Hurley bit their lip. “Do you want to get stuff to take with you, since you’re not leaving yet? You can take back all the stuff the posse took off you.”

“Sure,” she said slowly as she shuffled toward the wagon. Hurley listened to the shifting of supplies as she sorted through them and tried to ignore what felt like a metal weight hanging down inside their gut.

As Sloane gathered things up, there was a question plain on her almost dazed face. But it wasn’t until she had turned away from Hurley and crouched down to look through bags of food that she asked, “You know where to get water?”

Hurley paused, then glanced her way. She still had her back to them. “Do you?”

“I mean, I know how to find it.” She was working more quickly now and seemed to grab things almost without looking. “I figure the least I can do is get you some water too, if you want to come with me.”

“How far will we have to go?”

“Don’t know. Could take a few hours, could take a day.”

“Well, I don’t want to leave camp for a whole day if I’m just going to come back to it after we get water.”

She stopped, finally, and quietly replied, “Then I guess you should just pack up and leave along with me.”

“What?”

She said, "We could," and then, under her breath, "shit." When she at last turned around and met their gaze, her eyes were hard. "Look, I can help you get back to Goldcliff, but we're doing it my way, alright? I'm not gonna take the main routes and risk getting caught all over again. Take it or leave it."

They were stuck on the "I can help" bit of that. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm..." She huffed. "I don't feel good about leaving you on your own out here right after you just up and let me go. It doesn't seem right. I can help you out."

"You don't have to do that, though."

"No, I don't. But I know this part of the desert a lot better than you, so..."

"Are you saying we have a truce?"

Before that moment, she had appeared disinterested, almost flippant. Her arms were crossed, and her half-lidded eyes had shifted to look off into the distance. Now, she seemed to snap to attention, brows raised. "Yes," she said slowly, as if it were occurring to her while she spoke. "I guess you'd call it that."

They felt a smile come across their face before they could stop it. “Alright,” they said. “Of course. Thank you.”

“Early tomorrow, then.”

----------

They did indeed leave the following morning with what they could carry on their backs. Shortly after rising, the sun looked honey-golden and honey-sweet. The closer they got to high noon, it would turn cruel as always, but that seemed a ways off.

Hurley followed her. They watched the sheen of the sun bounce off her hair. They also watched as, now and then, she glanced back toward them, then turned away again. Like she wanted to see whether they were still behind her, or like she was watching her back.

When she had told them that she wasn’t Abernathy’s murderer, they had believed her, genuinely. That didn’t make this less strange, to be guided blindly to some unknown place by someone who was, at the very least, a career criminal.

By now, they knew that the desert’s inhabitants came alive near dawn. Mice and scorpions and lizards would start scurrying around at first light to gather food before the day got too hot. Still, Hurley hadn’t had to contend with so many flying insects since they had first arrived here. They tried to fan away the gnats that kept flying in their face. More than once, a tiny biting fly landed on their skin, and they tried to slap it down.

Suddenly, there were fingers gripping their arm. Sloane was in front of them, suddenly, and they were instinctively about to wrench themself away until they saw that she wasn’t doing anything else. She was just staring at the crook of their elbow, where, they now saw, another fly had settled.

Both of them watched the little black creature sit there for awhile before lifting off and into the sky. Sloane tracked it with her eyes as it flew until it became less than a speck in the blue sky. Then, definitively, she walked off in the direction in which the fly had gone.

Hurley considered that it wasn’t too late for them to go their own way. Then, after several moments’ hesitation, they walked after her.

The bugs didn’t let up as they went and went. They only seemed to get more plentiful. It seemed like the two of them would never quit just walking, and Hurley thought about saying as much until they looked up once more and saw. Instead of the scrub that they had gotten used to over the past weeks, greener, smoother plants with broad, tapered leaves began to dominate. It was some of the first green they had seen so far.

Soon enough, Sloane stopped close to one of the larger plants and dropped to her knees. The ground was softer here, and she began to turn it over with her hands. When Hurley realized what she was doing, they went over to help her dig, feeling the dirt beneath so much cooler than that at the surface.

When the water came up, it sparkled. For a moment, Hurley could only stare at it, until Sloane dipped a cloth into it and wrung it out over her head, so that the drops fell down her dusty face. More liquid came bubbling up out of the hole to take its place, sprung from the ground fresh and clean as a sprout.

A moment ago, they had kept themself from considering the possibility that they wouldn't get through, but a possibility is what it had been. Now even the air inside their lungs felt like less of a burden, like air indeed instead of something dense and heavy. Now the idea of not surviving seemed like no more than a bad dream. The very ground did not feel so hard beneath them.

“Yes!” they shouted as they jumped to their feet. “Holy shit, you did it!”

Sloane seemed a little taken aback, then said, “Good gods, relax, I do this all the time,” but said it with a slowly growing grin.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not amazing,” they said as they scrambled to take advantage of the plenty. They barely knew what to do with themself, whether to drink or wash their face or fill up their canteens. They cupped their hand and dipped it into the little pool and let the coolness watch down their throat.

When they finally looked away from the water, they saw Sloane watching them, her head tilted a little to the side. Without thinking, they got up, feeling like they wanted to hug her, and then stopped short. Instead, they just took both of her hands in theirs, beaming. She let them. "Thank you," they said in a hush. "Thank you, Sloane. This is incredible."

She only stared and stared at them, then quickly shook her head as if to snap out of a trance. “It’s fine,” she muttered. “Um, so do you want to keep going soon?”

“Yeah, let’s.” And they realized, suddenly, that they would not be alone. They would still have a voice to anchor them in the darkness, music around the fire. They would not go crazy at night, thinking that they were floating apart from the rest of the world in directionless darkness. Her presence would be proof positive that they had not been left alone completely. It was peculiar, their realizing that they had learned to like the nights.

#hurloane #taz #taz fanfic #the adventure zone #the zone cast #hurley #sloane #the wanted #taz balance

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captainjanegay · 4 years

Note

hey kasia! so, i read your post saying that you’re still not feeling well and that you might have an ear infection now 🥺 i’m so sorry honey! no one deserves that, but especially not an angel like you 🥺❤️ and as someone who had to get surgery to prevent the seemingly infinite amount of ear infections i got when i was little, i know how painful and annoying they can be! 😣 so with that on top of an awful cough (do you know what it is?) for two and a half weeks, that is the absolute worst. please know that i’m sending you all my love and well wishes to hope that you start to feel better soon! by the way, it’s been a long time since i’ve had an ear infection but if i remember correctly laying my painful ear on a heating pad really helps!

also p.s. when i was writing “an angel” i accidentally typed “a bagel” 😂 you in fact are not a bagel but the sweetest angel ever

but anyway— i just wanted to send you this nice little message to say a few things to hopefully improve your day 🥰 i’m gonna try to be concise but we’ll see what happens. i did this for @babyyhoneyydarling yesterday and it got long 🤦🏼‍♀️ but let me get started!

ok so first of all i know i say these things a whole bunch but i promise you right now, i mean them with my entire heart. kasia, you are hands-down one of the SWEETEST and most kindhearted people i’ve ever met. seriously? i don’t deserve you. at all! i’ll get a random ask from you and it makes my entire day so much more worth it 🥺💕 the care you’ve shown me and the other friends you have on here just makes me so happy. there isn’t enough love in this world spread around, but you make it better ☺️ you radiate sunshine energy all the time, even when i know you aren’t doing the best personally. and that takes a whole lot! i appreciate that you show us all love and support every single day— it’s hard to appreciate ourselves sometimes, so getting that from someone who we care about means the whole world!! you’ve made me feel better on the days that i’m at my lowest 🥺 and not only are you the most wonderful person ever, but your writing talent? i don’t even know where to begin. like i’ve said before, i have a tough time reading anything, so when i find a book or fic i can read, i am so grateful! and your fics that i’ve had the pleasure of reading do just that ❤️ just everything about them is perfect in my opinion— you come up with such interesting storylines that i could never even DREAM of! i know you aren’t always super confident in your work but i assure you, they truly are works of art. you deserve every single note they get, and endless support!! 😘 also i just wanted to add in quickly that i am SO proud of you for being able to write every day— it’s not something that all of us can do, so even if it’s not “great” quality, just getting your ideas and feelings out onto “paper” is the important thing. i also wanted to add in that i absolutely love your little writing games that you do 🥰 you are so creative with your 3-sentence ones and i seriously don’t know how you do it on the spot like that!! i take weeks to come up with stuff 😅🤦🏼‍♀️ speaking of games, i just want to say that i’ve loved getting the ability to know you through your blog. you are so welcoming and energizing— i’ve felt so comfortable here thanks to you!! i’ll admit i’m still very intimidated by some people, and even though i am so in awe of you, i feel like i’ve known you forever. which, for me, isn’t something that happens often! i can only think of a handful of friends 💕 i’ve never felt stressed out or scared when i talk to you (sometimes i feel like people are gonna judge me but you are just so kind 🥺☺️❤️) and i just want to say thank you for that. thank you for being you, kasia, you are wonderful, talented, and BEAUTIFUL, both inside and out!!! did you think i’d forget to add that? you are so gorgeous oh my god 🥰

ok— i could keep going but alas, i have wasted a lot of your time and blog space by sending this in 😂 i love you SO SO SO MUCH KASIA!!! i wish i could come give you a hug and help you feel better because you deserve all the best days 🥺❤️ i hope you have a better evening honey!!

also p.p.s. it started snowing a little bit here earlier today and it was the nice light and fluffy snow— it reminded me of you! ☺️💕

I’ve tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t be me just repeatedly screaming HELENA MY SWEET BABY ANGEL SWEETHEART LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU ARE TOO PRECIOUS FOR WORDS but I couldn’t and I’ve been thinking since yesterday dajka let me try, though.

HELENA MY SWEET BABY ANGEL SWEETHEART I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU ARE TOO PRECIOUS FOR WORDS

ok i’m done

i’m so not done, you’re just so lovely and every single time I am blessed with your messages or posts or just your sole presence on my dash or in my thoughts, I am just so thankful?? You’re such a sweet and wonderful human and to be able to call myself your friend is so amazing. I can’t believe you’ve singlehandedly saved this clusterfuck of a year by just being you and brightening the life of everyone you talk to, myself included? You’re so amazing??? I can’t belive u ♥♥♥

I’m so incredibly happy to know that I’m able to make you feel better and remind you of all the incredible qualities you have when you don’t remember about them yourself. I love making you happy and cheering you up when you need it so it means the world to me knowing that I succeed. And I want you to know that you do the exact same things to me :’) I feel so cared for and appreciated thanks to you and you sending things like this whenever i whine about not feeling my best? It just makes me cry happy tears forever, I love you so much my heart is just gonna burst someday.

And all those nice things you say about my writing just make my heart go all !!!!! I’m not gonna whine again but it really means the world and every single nice word I hear about my writing makes me a tad bit confident and while I’ll probably stay critical and self-conscious forever, knowing that you and all the other incredible people that appreciate my work are enjoying the things I almost always dislike? dakjda It makes me dislike them less, cause they make you happy and it’s more than I could ask for :’) I enjoy writing even while it’s a pain in the ass and you all make it so worth it :’) Also I never thought I’ll like those 3 sentence thingies so much dkjakds it usually takes me so much to figure things out (like all the christmas prompts i have in my inbox even though it’s December 11th already dajda)? And when I think about a fic I tend to start way too early and I get discouraged when I figure how much i need to write before I get to the “good part”? So i guess the limit of 3 sentences makes me able to just stuff as much of the “good part” as i can so maybe that’s why i like them so much dsakjkas

I got sidetracked, gimme a sec I need to remember what i wanted to say.

Oh yeah, i remember now - HELENA YOU SWEET, SWEET, BEAUTIFUL SOUL YOU’RE TOO PRECIOUS FOR THIS AWFUL WORLD ♥♥ I just want to wrap you in a blanket and hug forever to make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. And how dare you call this wonderful message a waste of space or time! I loved every single letter in it, just like I love every single part of you and I’ll forever be amazed that such an incredible person once looked at my blog and thought “i’m gonna make her heart explode from love-overload because that’s what she deserves”. I love you so much and I will repeart it forever and a bit longer probably.

As for my well-being, it’s not being so well djasdja I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of an infection but it’s basically the same it was yesterday, it’s not getting worse :’)) (thank fuck it seems to be a mostly painless one cause otherwise i’d die already) I have no idea what was that cough, it’s kinda hard to get a doctors appointment atm and I was kinda paranoid about having covid so i just preffered to stay holed up at home and wait dajkdajk which is not a good way to do things, I’m a horrible example in life but it’s mostly over now (the cough, not life dhjakjda) so i guess it didn’t turn out worse by my lack of professional expertise djaskj I really hope it will all pass soon, I hate being sick cause I always was a rather healthy person and only get a light cold like once a year or even less often? so getting sick so much while not leaving the damn house is just a bad joke from the universe dhkakda

On a more positive note - it was snowing today too!! It started around the afternoon and it’s still here! I’m so happy and I hope it’ll last for a bit :’)

here’s the (not current but it didn’t change much) view from my flat, it’s not even that much snow and it still makes me so excited djasdkja :’)

Again - thank you so much for this message, sweetheart. It means everything to me, I love you so so much ♥♥

#i could go on and on about how amazing you are :')#i can't believe u #thank you thank you thank you #i love u soooo much #i'm repeating myself but i've dried my 'proper words' stream djajda #♥♥♥#to keep #hbalbat #ask

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fabrowrites · 5 years

Text

The Ninja Create Fursonas

Despite the title, no furries were harmed in the making of this fic

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When the announcement first comes through, Jay's thrilled. He can't believe it's real. It's like something out of a dream. When the day finally comes and they're on their way to the studio, he sits in the back seat and practically vibrates in place for the entire trip.

A hand settles on his thigh. "Settle down, Jay!" Cole says, laughing. "You're charging up enough energy to give us all static shocks for a week. Is your brain exploding? You're so jittery today."

"Of course I'm jittery," Jay snaps. "How are you not? This is like, the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."

This thing being- wanting to ride their latest wave of popularity after defeating the Preeminent (and Nadakhan, but apparently he didn't count- yes, Jay was salty), a toy-making company had approached the group and asked if perhaps they'd be interested in a line of stuffed toy creatures made after them? As if they'd say no. And if that wasn't enough, they also wanted the ninja to be the ones to design them.

Jay just might pass out in the back of this van.

They'd been escorted into a cozy-looking room with long tables and chairs and given giant pads of paper and black markers. The head artist gave them a rundown of guidelines- nothing scandalous, certainly; they should try to make each character cute, relatable, and most of all marketable- and oh, wouldn't it be neat if they each had something to do with their element?

Jay had agreed readily. He sized up the sketch pad in front of him and cracked his knuckles. Okay, brain. Let's do this.

Except that was forty-five minutes ago and Jay's no closer to an idea than when he began. He bangs his head against the table with a long, drawn-out groan. His sketch pad drops uselessly from his hands.

"It's no use," he whines. "I don't have a creative bone in my body. I'm gonna have to pack my bags and move to the south and become a repressed goat farmer."

Kai mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "not a creative bone in my body my butt." But when Jay looks over at him, the fire ninja's attention is fixed firmly to his own board.

Blearily, Jay raises his head. Everything he's drawn looks like trash. There's a weird leopard creature scribbled out in the corner. Next to it is a lizard that looks like a cross between Rango and that purple thing from Monsters Inc except with none of their good qualities and all of their bad. A sad bird-thing sits in the center. It looks disappointed in him despite its lack of face. Maybe the blankness enhances it.

He drops his marker on the table and leans back with a long groan.

"It can't be all that bad," Nya says. She's bent over beside him, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she fills something in. Jay sighs without moving.

"I couldn't think of anything to draw so I started drawing Kai as a porcupine."

Nya whistles lowly. "That is bad," she says. Both of them ignore Kai's outraged shout of: "Hey! My face is the best inspiration you'll ever get!" She sets down her own pad, closing the cover. "Maybe if we show you what we've done, it'll inspire you."

"Or it'll just make me feel worse about myself," Jay grumbles, but he sits up in his seat properly. "Okay. Let's try that. Do you have anything?"

Nya shrugs the way she does when she's proud of something she did but doesn't want to call attention to it. "There was something I was working on." She flips open her sketchbook. Jay scoots his chair closer to hers. His eyes widen.

"Woah, Nya! That's actually really cool!"

"Actually?" Nya asks, raising her eyebrow, but she laughs when Jay pouts at her. "Oh, fine. Thanks. It's not much yet, but-"

The character on her paper is a seal, small and round, with dark eyes and a happy puppy face. At the edges of the sheet are more drawings- one has the seal in a wetsuit; another puts it in diver fins and a snorkel.

"I wanted to experiment around," Nya says. "I think I like the wetsuit one the best."

"That one's cute," Jay agrees.

From Nya's right side comes a groan. "Will you two keep it down?" Kai complains. "Some of us are trying to work here."

"Some of us are trying to work here too, but we can't," Jay sends back. Not one of his best comebacks, but it's to Kai. "I've got brain blockage and Nya's helping me out."

Kai glances over and sees what they're doing. He perks up. "Oh, are we sharing?" He sits up straighter and drums his fingers on the table. "Hey, guys! We're sharing!"

"Oh, good!" says Cole. "I wanted your feedback on something."

"Me too," says Zane.

Jay narrows his eyes at both of them. "This right now?" he says. "This is about me. Not you."

Cole waves his hand. "Of course, of course."

The way he says it has Jay hhmphing, but they both turn their focus to Kai as the fire ninja loudly demands their attention.

Kai has created what appears to be a horse, except that it has a few too many legs, a creepy tongue drooling out of its face, and horns. So it's actually not like a horse at all. Somehow it's both angular and blobby at the same time. Ah, the dualities of Art.

"I thought we were supposed to be making these marketable," Zane says with a tilt of his head.

"This is marketable!" Kai protests. "Kids are like, bonkers for dragons."

Ah, so that's what the blob is, Jay thinks. "Bonkers?" he snickers aloud. "What are you, seventy? Did you try cuckoo too? What about nutty?"

"Bananas," Lloyd pipes up. "Gaga. Buggy."

"Okay, okay, we get it," Kai grumbles. "You like to talk."

"That wasn't my point at all," Jay says, but he concedes it. He does like to talk, after all.

"Why does it have six legs?" asks Nya.

"Those are its wings," Kai sniffs.

Nya bursts out laughing, slapping her hand on her knee, eyes closed into crescents. "Hey!" Kai shouts, shoving her from her chair. "You know that drawing's not my real talent."

"Oh, we know," Cole says under his breath.

"Huh?"

"Nothing!" Cole grins. "I'll go next." He flicks back a page or two. "So I originally wanted to do a bear, because bears are cool and they're the deadliest animal on the planet."

"I'm pretty sure you meant to say 'shark'," Nya says.

"I'm pretty sure I said what I meant to say," Cole snips back. He returns his attention to his drawing board. "But bears are too overdone in this day and age."

Jay can't even make fun of him for saying 'this day and age' like some grandma because he's too busy currently gaping at the art on Cole's board.

The character on Cole's paper is definitely not a bear.

"Bears are overdone," Cole says. "So I thought, why not make a narwhal?"

"How on earth," Jay asks faintly, "did you make the jump from bear to narwhal?"

Cole shrugs. "It made sense at the time."

"What's a narwhal?" Lloyd asks. His marker is flying a mile a minute across his sketch pad and his eyes never leave the page.

"It's a unicorn fish," Jay says, turning a disbelieving eye back to the earth ninja. Cole just grins. "A unicorn fish that no one cares about. What happened to giving me inspiration?" he demands. "You've just killed any ideas I might have had!"

Cole pouts.

"I, for one, think it's adorable!" Nya's come up behind Cole now and is peering at his sketch pad. Hearing her words, Cole brightens. "Does it have a name?"

"I was thinking Gnarly."

Nya nods sagely. "That's uber-rad, bro."

Bring Me to Life is playing on a psychedelic loop inside Jay's head. Wake me up inside, wails the lead vocalist, but Jay can't wake up (save me).

"Am I the only one taking this seriously?" he whines. "Guys. This is like, our legacy."

"I'm pretty sure our legacy is saving the city," Kai drawls, "not whatever these characters will be."

"Our legacy," Jay emphasizes. "Don't you realize how cool this is? How many people get to say they have their own cartoon character?"

Cole shrugs. "Exactly. That's why I'm having fun with it. Hey, do you think that Gnarly would look good with a monocle?"

"I'm taking it seriously," Lloyd says. "Look at mine."

"Gnarly would look absolutely dapper in a monocle, how could you even ask that."

"How big is he?" asks Zane. "That would have to be one big piece of glass."

"Hey, guys."

"Ooh, you should give him a mohawk."

"A mohawk? He's a fish! Fish don't have hair!"

"I'm pretty sure it's a mammal, actually."

An explosion rockets the left side of the room. Jay startles so badly he almost falls out of his chair. His eyes dart around for the threat, only to lock eyes with a smirking Lloyd. A smirking Lloyd who still has his fist raised, faint wisps of smoke rising from his fingers.

Jay lets out an inhuman shriek. It's a wonder that no one's come in to check on them, honestly. "Lloyd!"

"What?" Lloyd grins. "You weren't paying attention to me."

"We've raised a brat," Cole says. "An absolute menace."

Lloyd's grin intensifies. "As I was saying…"

He spins his board around with all the pomp and circumstance of a ten-year-old who learned how to act through daytime television. Somehow, despite them only having been given black sharpie markers to draw with, Lloyd has colored his character in with crayon. It's a shockingly detailed goat-creature. Its fur has been colored a mint green, and it's wearing a golden sweater with dragons crossing the sides.

It looks like it was ripped from the pages of an actual comic book.

"Woah!" Kai says, launching himself across the table and sending no less than three markers flying as he goes in for a closer look. "That's awesome, Lloyd!" He beams at the younger ninja. "What is it?"

Nya scoffs. "Obviously it's an alpaca, you dolt."

"It's a yak," Cole says.

Jay makes a disagreeing noise. "No, I'm pretty sure it's a goat."

"Guys," Lloyd says, looking extremely disappointed in all of them, "it's a llama."

They sit in silence for a moment.

"Ooh," Jay says. "Alright. That makes a bit more sense."

"Is it my turn?" Zane asks. Unlike some other members whose names shall not be mentioned, he waits until their attention is on him before starting. "I put a lot of thought into this character."

He turns around his paper. Jay chokes on his water. Tears stream from his eyes and he's coughing, but when he wipes them away the picture stays the same.

In the middle of the page, in the glorious high definition only a nindroid could hope to achieve, is a shark that looks like it came right out of some Super Bowl halftime slot. Its eyes are vacant. Its mouth is open in an agonized scream. It's standing in a starfish pose, legs in lieu of a tail.

"My character is a shark," Zane says, as if it needed any explanation.

Everyone stops and looks at him. Zane's the picture of earnestness, eyes wide and unguarded. At this exact moment, he looks like a five-year-old presenting some horrific drawing to its mother. As the silence stretches on, his face falls. "Is it not on target enough? I know we were supposed to be making something related to our element, but there are not that many snow creatures."

The group glances at each other, expressions veering towards the panicked side. By some unspoken agreement, they all reach the same conclusion.

"Oh, no!" says Nya. "We were all just surprised by how good you draw."

"It's a great shark, Zane," Cole says, tone a bit forced. The expression in his eyes doesn't match the grin on his face.

"Yeah," Jay says lamely. "I like how- how blue it is."

Zane beams.

"It looks like you're well on your way!" says a new voice. It's the head artist, coming back into the room. She looks around approvingly at the studio of chaos. "Well done. I knew I heard the sounds of productivity in here."

Apparently productivity sounds like random explosions and screaming now. That's- honestly not that far off the mark, considering that Jay's a literal ninja for his job.

"The next step, if you haven't already," says the artist, "will be coming up with names." Cole high-fives Nya. "I'll be back in a bit to check on you again!"

The room descends into voices once again as she leaves.

"I need a cool name for my dragon," Kai says immediately. "There's got to be a way to combine my name with it, right?"

"Kragon," Cole suggests. "Drakai."

Kai wrinkles his nose. "Kragon? Like that weirdo from the LEGO line?"

"No, you're thinking of Cragger," Lloyd says. "Kragon is that magical crystal thing Jedi use."

Jay rolls his eyes. "No, that's a kyber. Didn't I raise you better than this? Kragon is that website that people sell stuff on."

"No, that's Craigslist."

"Whatever it is," Kai interrupts, "I don't like it. So you nerds can all drop it now."

"I think I'll call mine Neela," Nya says.

Cole glances at her sketchpad and makes a noise of approval. "Neela and Gnarly," he says. "Hey! Ours could be best friends!"

"You're already coming up with backstory?" Jay protests. "I haven't even started my character!"

"Well stop whining and just make one!" Cole says, exasperated.

Jay pouts. At the other end of the table, Lloyd's cackling up a storm as he writes name after name down the side of his paper. Jay leans over to see: his favorites seem to be Llod, Llyod, and Floyd judging on the circles he's made around them.

Jay sighs and leans back in his seat. Nya's abandoned her spot beside him to go brainstorm with Cole, and Kai's still tossing ideas out to the group even though no one's listening to him.

"Ooh, what about Kaitron?"

"That just sounds like a robot," Jay complains. Inspiration cuts through the cloud of his mind like a knife. "That's it!"

The entire room stops and stares at him. Seeing that he's just stood abruptly and slammed his sketch pad against the table, Jay can't blame them. "Kai," he says, "you're a genius." As quickly as he stood he's seated again, turning over a new page and beginning to sketch.

"I'm a what?" Kai asks, somewhere in the background.

Jay outlines a triangular shape. Then a body with one big wheel instead of legs. He fills up his page with sketches, mind vomiting up ideas faster than he can put them on paper. Yes. Yes! This was exactly what he wanted!

"Everyone!" he says- practically demands their attention. He rips the top sheet off his sketchpad with a flourish. "Meet NJ, your friendly little shapeshifting robot friend! The double emphasis on friendliness means that it's full of love."

"Shapeshifting?" Lloyd asks. "Woah, that's neat!"

Jay nods, grinning. "He can turn into anything, as long as it's non-organic." He points out some sketches of NJ as a toaster, as a spy drone, as an umbrella.

"That's- actually a cool idea, Jay," Cole says. "I like it!"

"Hey!" Jay protests. "Are you telling me that all my other ideas aren't cool?"

Cole grins. "You said it first," he points out.

"Kriff!" shouts Kai. For a second Jay thinks the fire ninja is swearing, but it turns out he's talking to his dragon. "Perfect name. Done."

The head artist chooses this moment to re-enter the room. She beams when she sees all their sketchpads laid out. "Looking good, everyone! Do you all have designs now?" They nod. "Great. Well, our next step will be for each of you working with our on-location artists to better flesh out your concepts. Oh, and then backstories!" She grins. "I'll go call them in."

She leaves. Kai stares at his paper. "I hope my artist likes challenges," he finally says.

#ninjago #ninjago fic #ninjago fanfic #based on the making of bt21 videos #this is so chaotic

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