#currently thinking thoughts of how i can include this in a texting fic

[sundrop-writes]

Careful - Chapter Two

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Two: Liar

Why should I deny what's all at once, so crystal clear?

Summary:

Spencer is eager to talk to you - to find out if your son is actually his. But there are more important matters at hand, like the fact that you might be the next target of a serial killer who is actively stalking single mothers.

The two of you get locked in a battle of wills when you stubbornly refuse his protection and Spencer remains determined to keep you safe.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst and Smut.

Word Count: 8,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: again, general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of killing/murder, mentions of the reader being a target for a killer; mentions of the reader buying and using a vibrator (does not take place during the fic, more so mentioned as the reality of the ‘sex life’ of a single mom); the reader and Spencer parted on very bad terms (but the details of the situation are not yet revealed); the reader is very angry towards Spencer; the reader and Spencer argue; the reader is in denial that she is the target of a killer; there is some mention of Sebastian having similar hair to Spencer - but I don’t want that to describe or exclude the reader’s race because in the next chapter, there is a mention of Sebastian having the reader’s skin tone; mention of the reader ‘shoving’ Spencer out of anger (not hard enough to cause harm); mention of the reader owning a gun (registered with gun training) as a form of self defense; mention of the reader character celebrating a birthday - but there is no mentions of specific dates or months when the fic is set, so you can easily imagine that this takes place around your birthday (aside from mentions of holidays or seasonal weather); mentions of JJ x Will; JJ talks about her trauma regarding dogs after being attacked in 2x15; this ends in another flashback, this time including flashback sex (smut); Spencer cuts off foreplay to give the reader a birthday present - mentions of heated kissing and some groping; Spencer calls the reader ‘Princess’ (not during sex - in the context of ‘I am here to serve you like royalty’); the smut basically consists of Spencer eating the reader out. And I think that’s it for this chapter. 

A/N: Okay so something I did not intend to happen - a lot of this chapter is from JJ's perspective. It just naturally started happening while I was writing it, and it was really interesting to me to write about Spencer and the reader's relationship through her eyes (especially to keep the conflict between them vague to the audience, because JJ doesn't know the details of what happened), and it's not something I did intentionally, but I really loved how it shaped the chapter, so I kept it in. Also, I really wanted to include a lot of JJ x Spencer friendship and comfort moments in the fic because (as a lot of people in the fandom have discussed) - the writers love to have the characters say that JJ and Spencer are best friends, but they don't often show it. They just show a lot of conflict between them. So I wanted to show the potential of their friendship. And I had a lot of fun exploring that. So - I hope you guys enjoy the second chapter, and definitely hope to see you come back for chapter three!!!

...

When you heard someone knock on your door, you thought it was a delivery. 

You had ordered Sebastian some new educational coloring books, and some new CDs with Mozart concertos to fall asleep to, because he was getting bored of his current ones. You often felt like you couldn’t keep up with him - Sebastian was so damn smart, and you always tried to provide him with the best resources to learn. Even if he was getting to a point where he was asking for high school level chemistry text books and actually seemed to understand the material in them and you were confused about how he could comprehend any of it. 

The package also could have been the new vibrator you had ordered. You weren’t sure if that package was small enough to be left in the mailbox or not. You had to roll your eyes when you thought about how pathetic your sex life had been since having Sebastian. But you couldn’t risk bringing random men through the house just for sex when you had Seb around. So battery power and smut novels, it was.

“Sorry!” 

You called out, hoping the delivery person would wait, as you raced to get to the door. You hoped they wouldn’t just slip one of those ‘failed to deliver’ notes into your door handle and force you to run an extra errand with a kid under your arm. You tripped over a toy truck and cursed yourself for procrastinating cleaning up (again). 

“Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-” 

‘I was in my office, in the back of the house.’ 

The sentence died off on your tongue when you finally fumbled the door open - your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him. 

Spencer Reid. 

The father of your child, the man you had once loved. 

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion. 

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief. 

Shock. 

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here? 

Was he here because of Sebastian? Was he angry? He had to be angry that you hadn’t told him about Sebastian for all of these years. He had to be angry that you had given birth to his child and not told him about it. 

You flickered back to lust for a moment as your eyes traced over him. 

He looked good.

Somehow, he had grown up so much in just four years. He had gone from a gangly, boyish man to a full blown man. But he was somehow still so much the same. His hair had grown out a lot since you had last seen him - instead of the neatly combed, short cut you had last seen him with, it was downright wild. The chocolate brown locks were sprawling out into the thick curls that you had come to see sprouting from your own son’s head. It wasn’t a look that you were used to on Spencer, but it looked damn good on him. 

He was wearing his usual leather messenger bag - probably the exact same one from years ago. And he clearly had the same dress sense, but these clothes in particular made you want to jump his bones. A lavender cardigan that complimented his skin tone so well - and his usual button up shirt and tie, along with his usual gray slacks. 

You desperately wanted to blame the sting of attraction that you felt for him on the recent lack of male suitors in your life; the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in a long time. But you knew it was something else, too. Your previous attraction to him - the fact that because you had slept with Spencer before, you could still feel the ghost of his hands and tongue on your body. 

How did he look so good? 

He made you feel like a slob in your casual ‘work from home on a random Tuesday’ Mom clothes. If it had been your choice, he definitely wouldn’t be seeing you for the first time in years while you were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that you were sure had raspberry juice stained on it somewhere, and eyeliner that you had slopped in between traffic lights in the car that morning. 

(You hated it.) 

“Y/N,” 

He finally broke the silence, speaking your name in that honey-sweet way. 

Unfortunately, it brought you rocketing back to that night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over. 

This chased out that tiny splash of lust and brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions. 

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. More longing. Regret. 

Like your brain was a spin wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage. 

And that was when you finally spoke. 

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom, your neck aching as the blood pumped hard through your aorta. 

Immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and fear took over his face. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked fiercely, this question rocketing back to the forefront of your mind. 

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that suddenly, you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say. 

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch. Without even thinking, you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You screeched. 

You let your emotions carry your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was resentment and heartache that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time. 

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You screamed. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?” 

You gave him another hard shove. Perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, even you weren’t sure. 

Spencer just looked at you with wide-eyed shock. Clearly, for once in his life, at a loss for words. 

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat. 

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out. 

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.” 

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless. 

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception. 

The two of you became locked in an icy staring contest, neither of you speaking. Spencer found his throat too dry, and for once, his head far too empty. You were simply too angry and too stubborn to speak in those moments. 

This stalemate was only broken up when JJ walked around the corner. 

“Spence, Hotch just told me that the first woman doesn’t even match the-” 

“JJ!” You cried out her name happily, your entire demeanor changing when you saw her. 

She grinned, completely forgetting whatever news she had to report to Reid as you practically flew off the porch and ran to meet her. JJ eagerly opened her arms to hug you, and you squeezed her with all the warmth and kindness of an old friend. 

Spencer felt a pang of jealousy that he wasn’t being greeted with as much affection. He knew that the last argument between the two of you had been bad, but he didn’t know it had left such a distinct impression on you. He didn’t know it had been enough to make you hate him. 

When you pulled away from JJ, you looked between her and Spencer, and then it suddenly struck you. 

If Spencer wasn’t here alone, that meant this wasn’t personal. He wasn’t just here to see you over some lost love, or - maybe he didn’t know about Sebastian at all. You felt a pang of guilt twist your gut because of that. 

“What - what are you guys doing here?” You asked, now entirely confused, directing the question toward JJ. 

JJ looked toward Spencer, and according to his ill-concealed frown, his reunion with you had not gone well. She doubted that you would take the news that you were possibly being hunted by a killer well on top of that. 

“Is it alright if we come inside?” JJ asked, her voice tentative and soft. It was the same voice she usually used with victims and their families. 

“Yeah.” You said, knowing there must be something big that you were missing, and hoping that you would be filled in soon enough. “I’ll put some coffee on.” 

You walked back up the few steps of the porch and breezed right past Reid. You didn’t even spare a glance in his direction as you went back in through the open front door, leaving it open for the two of them with the expectation that they would close it behind themselves. 

“So - I take it things didn’t go well?” JJ whispered to Spencer as she moved up onto the porch. 

“Not quite.” Spencer mumbled in return before moving into the house, waiting for her to follow. 

This made JJ even more curious about what had gone down between you and Spencer all those years ago. 

What could have possibly made you so cold and distant toward him? 

But she couldn’t just come out and ask. They had a job to do. They were there to ensure your safety against a man who had already killed five women and orphaned five children. 

JJ walked into the house and closed the door behind her. She wasn’t surprised that she nearly tripped over a plastic toy truck in the entryway. Even though your son didn’t seem to be here (it was far too quiet for a small boy to be around), this was definitely a house where a child lived. 

The first space that was visible to her eye - the living room, was clearly a space that belonged to a young child. There was a large, colorful play mat underneath the coffee table, and a few toys scattered over across the floor, showing that he clearly liked to have hands on play. In the corner, there was a child-sized desk with a small chair, which seemed to be surrounded by art supplies, and advanced textbooks? Some of them opened and were dotted with bright, colorful stickers. One glance told JJ that the reading material very advanced for his age clearly belonged to him. 

So he very likely was Spencer’s son. 

She wasn’t sure why, but that did bring a cluster of joy through her. Likely because she knew he would be so excited to have a child of his own. 

JJ couldn’t help but to notice that many of the toys were Paw Patrol themed - it was a favorite show of Henry’s, too. In the back of her mind, she wondered if your son and Henry might be friends. 

“Ugh, I’m so sorry.” You huffed, rushing around with your arms half full of toys now - distracted from getting the coffee, as you had mentioned. You were clearly rushing to pick up some of the mess now that you had realized how it appeared in the eyes of your ‘guests’. “All the - stuff.” 

You hesitated to say ‘toys’. Clearly, you didn’t want to bring up the subject of your son, even though the evidence of him was so visible all around. You didn’t want to give Spencer the smallest opening to start asking questions about him. It was something you wanted to avoid speaking about for as long as possible. 

Spencer looked at you with a mournful look on his face as you dodged around him, purposefully avoiding eye contact while you picked up a coloring book and a handful of crayons off the couch. You still refused to look his way at all as you rushed off to stash the items away somewhere. 

Clearly, he wanted to ask you more about your son, and simply ask that penultimate question: was he the father? 

But now wasn’t the right time. 

“It’s alright.” JJ assured you. “You can just come sit down. We really need to talk to you.” 

You heaved out a sigh, defeated in your effort to clean up, and then came back from one of the other rooms. (JJ could only assume you had stashed the toys in a playroom or a closet, because much like her own home, all areas had become a domain for toys and playtime). You motioned for them to sit on the couch, and you scooted over a rocking chair from the other side of the room to sit in front of them, blocking the shut-off TV on the other side. 

“So, what is it?” You asked, clearly eager and curious to know what they were doing in your home - why they had contacted you now after so many years apart. 

JJ and Spencer exchanged a look, and with a gentle nod from him, JJ took the lead. 

“Well, um… there’s no easy way to say this, but we believe that you might be in danger.” She told you, introducing the topic gently, while wanting to be honest and direct. “Perhaps you’ve seen it on the news? But if you haven’t… several single mothers have been killed in the area recently, and we have reason to believe that you might be the killer’s next target.” 

You looked at her, entirely observant, quietly taking in her words. Your face was still and expressionless, and JJ was unsure if you were going to take this calmly and logically - if you were going to panic after you had fully absorbed the news, if you were going to cry. 

After a moment of silence - you burst out laughing. Your laughter was harsh and nervous, a sound that cut through the air like the rip of a chainsaw. Clearly, it was the stark opposite of someone taking the news with tears. 

“Oh my god.” You sighed, taking a breath from the non-humorous laughter. “You know that you didn’t have to make up some excuse just to come and see me, right?” 

Spencer’s face curled into a deep frown. He was upset that you weren’t taking this seriously. JJ found herself in shock. Usually when people found out they were potentially on the radar of a killer, they were paranoid, afraid, questioning why. 

But it was very rare to see denial. 

She did take notice of the fact that you didn’t immediately ask about what kind of evidence or reasoning they had to believe that you were the killer’s next target. Perhaps if your brain let you assess that reasoning for yourself and found it to be valid, then fear would take over. And you couldn’t let that happen. So this laughter, this posturing and not taking things seriously - it was an unconscious way to protect yourself from that fear. 

But JJ could only theorize about that. 

“I did miss you, JJ.” You said, very pointedly looking at her while you said it. “But you could have just sent me an email or something.” 

You continued avoiding Spencer’s harsh gaze as he bored holes into the side of your face with his intense, intrusive eyes. 

“Look, this is serious-” Spencer began, and you cut him off. 

“Okay.” You shrugged. “Let’s say for argument’s sake that there is someone trying to kill me,” 

You spoke of this lightly, the words entirely condescending on your lips, as though Spencer’s theory was entirely wild and imaginative to begin with. 

JJ saw the movement in his jaw as he grinded his teeth out of the corner of her eye, and she was surprised that he let you continue. 

“I have an alarm system that I set every night before I go to bed.” You informed them. “I am a proud gun owner. I have a registered revolver that I keep in a lock box beside my bed and I renew my gun training every single spring.” You told them, not seeming the least bit worried at the idea of a killer hunting you down. “If someone wants to kill me, let them try. I’m sure you guys have much better ways to spend your time than sitting around here, chatting with me when there are people out there, actually in danger. People who probably need your help.” 

You said this, trying to dismiss them. And then you moved to get up from your seat, looking to escape the conversation entirely. But once again, Spencer stopped you. 

“That’s it?” He fired back, entirely indignant, standing from his place on the couch. 

This caused you to roll your eyes and let out a hiss, your lungs deflating like an annoyed balloon as you paused in the middle of the room. 

“Yes, that’s it.” You groaned back. “Look, I know it’s your job to see problems everywhere, but-” 

“It’s my job to protect people.” Spencer replied, cutting you off. “And-” 

“Funny!” You scoffed, your voice escalating in volume. It had turned into a full-blown argument now - you were entirely uncaring that JJ was there to witness it; Spencer was locked in your sight like the crosshairs of a scope, and you were ready to fire. “You give a shit about ‘protecting’ me now, but what the fuck happened four years ago?”

You glared harshly at Spencer, and he locked his jaw, staring right back. It turned into a poisonous silence as neither of you spoke - he didn’t have a good answer for this question. And it made JJ all the more horribly curious about what had happened between the two of you. But she didn’t need to be a psychic to sense that the two of you needed some privacy. 

“Do… do you mind if I go get myself a glass of water?” She asked, tentatively standing up from her place on the couch. 

“I’ll get it.” You huffed out, moving to leave the room. 

“It’s okay.” JJ told you. “I can get it for myself. Just point me in the right direction.” 

You motioned toward the kitchen and JJ left, and she heard Spencer hiss out something about you being stubborn, which turned into another cluster of voices. The argument turned even more personal and sour now that the both of you didn’t have a witness. 

When JJ made her way into the kitchen, she was happy to see that your backyard was full of toys. A pair of sliding glass doors let her peek out to see a colorful swing set and a large playhouse, and a scattering of other toys meant that your son obviously spent a lot of time outside. She smiled to herself, trying to ignore the rising, angered sound of voices from the other room as she found a glass in one of the cabinets. When she moved to the refrigerator’s water dispenser, something along the way caught her eye. 

A vase of fresh flowers was sitting on the counter. 

White carnations. 

It made her stomach churn ominously. It felt too perfect to be a coincidence. 

She abandoned her half-full glass and grabbed the vase, walking back to the living room with it. 

“You just can’t accept help from anybody, can you? How can you not understand that your life is in danger here? This man is not going to stop until-” Spencer ranted on. 

He was still trying to convince you to take the threat seriously - but you were still boiling with rage over the past, blind to anything else. 

“I can’t accept anyone’s help?” You scoffed, crowding into his personal space to hiss the words closer to him. “That is so rich coming from someone who-” 

JJ cleared her throat loudly, cutting you off. 

“Spence.” She got his attention from the intense gaze he was keeping on you - anger hot in his eyes even though he was staring heavily at your lips. 

When Spencer looked over and saw the vase in JJ’s hands, his entire face shifted in a blink. His expression went from tight-knit anger and annoyance to ‘shit-your-pants’ worry. The danger went from being theoretical to being very real in that moment. 

“Where did these flowers come from?” Spencer asked. 

“What?” You gaped, so entirely confused. 

“Where did you get the flowers?” He asked, rephrasing the question, his tone more urgent and demanding now. 

“Why does that matter?” You replied, exasperated. You didn’t see how it was at all relevant. 

“All of the women who were killed received these exact same kind of flowers within days of their death.” JJ told you. “Do you have any idea who sent them?” 

“I thought my mother did.” You shrugged. “There was no name on the card. It just said ‘Happy Birthday’. She didn’t get to see me in person for my birthday, she’s traveling right now. She’s one of the only people who would send me flowers for my birthday.” 

“Yes, but your mother knows that your favorite flowers are lavender and baby’s breath. Why would she send these?” Spencer replied. 

Naturally, he remembered your favorite flowers. 

You couldn’t get stuck on that, though. Instead, you pondered the question he posed. 

Why would your mother send you white carnations without even signing the card? 

It wasn’t something you had thought about. At the time, you had just thought it was considerate, and sweet. When you had called her to thank her for the flowers, you had gotten her voicemail. You had left her a message thanking her. She was away on a singles cruise with shoddy reception and she hadn’t gotten back to you yet. 

“They’re just flowers.” You said, letting out another nervous chuckle - but your voice broke over this one. 

Obviously the reality of things was truly starting to set in with you. 

“We need to set up protective custody for you.” Spencer said, taking out his phone in order to get this done. 

“No!” You snapped. “I am not having some random cops follow me around because you think I might be in danger.” You hissed angrily. 

Spencer paused and stared you down, debating if he was going to go against your wishes or not, his phone still in hand. 

JJ hated the look in Spencer’s eyes. That deep, bitter fear. Whatever had happened between the two of you, there was still enough care lingering there that he would fight for you no matter what. He was terrified for you. He wasn’t going to let you meet the same fate as the other victims. She knew he wasn’t going to let this go. 

JJ put the vase down on the coffee table, and turned to you. 

“It doesn’t have to be random cops. We can stay with you, in order to-” She started to explain, only to be disrupted by the digital ringtone of your home phone echoing through the house. 

You rushed to grab the phone, and JJ heard some of the quiet conversation from you on one end. 

“Yeah, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there soon. It’s no problem. Thank you so much. Yeah, twenty minutes. Bye.” 

You hung up and then rushed back into the living room - and before either of them could speak further on the matter, you rushed past them. You went to the entryway, taking off your slippers to exchange them for sneakers. 

“Look, guys, I would love to stay and hang out, but I have somewhere important to be.” You huffed out. 

“Seriously?” Spencer replied, entirely frustrated with you. “This isn’t some tea party. We aren’t just hanging around here for fun. Call whoever that was and tell them that you’re gonna be late. Or call and cancel, or-” 

“No!” You yelled back, entirely frustrated with him. “Dammit, Spencer! People have responsibilities, you know! I have responsibilities. I am an adult, I’m not some child you can talk down to. Now get the fuck out of my house so I can lock up, and get to the important things that I have to do. Things that don’t involve wasting my time talking to you.” 

You said the last part so snidely, resenting that Spencer’s unexpected visit had been part of your day. 

He opened his mouth to argue against this, but JJ put a gentle hand on his shoulder, nudging him toward the door. He sighed and flexed to this movement. He angrily stormed past you to leave through the front door, which he left wide open like a toddler having a tantrum. 

You grabbed your keys and your purse from a side table near the door and JJ moved to leave as well. On her way along, she put a gentle hand on your shoulder, capturing your attention. 

“We’ll check back in with you later, okay?” She said, using her most gentle, non-confrontational voice. 

“Sure.” You easily agreed, unable to be angry with her. “But just call, or something. There’s no need to bang down my door over some stupid flowers. It’s nothing.” 

She stepped through the door and you followed. As you used your keys to lock up, you added on: 

“I would give you my number, but I’m sure Penelope can find it for you in five minutes flat.” 

JJ chuckled at this. 

“More like two and a half, I’d say.” She replied - it was a joking tone, but she did truly think this highly of Penelope’s skills. 

You smiled over your shoulder at her and she nodded before she began to walk back to the car, where Spencer was already sitting in the passenger’s seat, stewing in his anger. 

When she got in beside him, they watched you pull out of the driveway and drive off before either of them spoke. 

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips. 

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply, tired. 

In order to distract himself from all of it, he was staring down at some files in his lap - some of the case files of the other murders that he had pulled out of his bag. He needed something to do to keep his mind from churning more on the fact that you seemed to hate him. He wanted to find a way to protect you now, instead of focusing on the past. 

But JJ seemed hellbent on walking backward - getting him to look back on what happened between the two of you. 

“I can do complicated.” She said. “We’ve got plenty of time. We should just sit here and wait for her to come back.” 

“You should go check in with Hotch.” Spencer told her, dodging around the question once again. “I’ll come back after.” 

“After what?” JJ questioned, finding this wording particularly strange. 

JJ started the car and pulled away, hoping that you would be safe during the time they didn’t have eyes on you. The UnSub had a particular routine - he liked to stalk his victims for a few weeks before he broke into their homes and killed them. So she hoped that he wasn’t ready to make contact with you yet. She hoped that if he did, your gun and your alarm system would be enough to deter him. 

“I - I wanted to get her something nice.” He answered, sounding rather shy about this proclamation. “Like she mentioned, her birthday just passed. And, according to the preschool forms, her son’s birthday was a week ago. I want to get something for him too.” 

“They have the same birthday?” JJ asked. 

“Not exactly the same, but their birthdays are only five days apart.” Spencer replied. “I missed his birth.” He added on, a quiet sigh, entirely melancholic. “I missed the whole pregnancy. I - I missed everything.” 

“You still didn’t answer my question.” JJ reminded him. “What happened?” 

Spencer knew she was asking as a friend. He knew that of all people - she was the one to talk to about this. 

“It - it was right after Hankel.” He admitted quietly. “That was when Y/N and I broke up.” 

“Oh.” JJ said quietly. 

The air in the car became thick as the heaviness truly overtook her. 

So, it was complicated. 

But she definitely couldn’t understand your rage toward Spencer. 

“When I came back from Atlanta, she knew I wasn’t the same. And things - we - we fell apart.” He admitted this barely above a whisper, hesitant to even voice the words as a reality. “You knew what kind of person I was back then. I wasn’t good to her. I wasn’t good to anybody.” 

Spencer let out a harsh chuckle - a defense to all the hurt he was feeling about it. 

JJ spotted a sign for a shopping center, and pulled into the parking lot. She knew that Spencer likely had a good idea about buying into your good graces with a late birthday gift. Even if it wouldn’t instantly make up for everything that had happened all those years ago. 

“Yeah, but you’re sober now.” She reminded him. 

“She doesn’t know that.” Spencer replied. 

JJ ruminated in thought for a moment. 

“You know, I met Will afterwards, right?” She said. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Spencer nodded. 

“It was only a few weeks after everything happened, when we were working that case in New Orleans.” She explained. “And he looked at me like I was a hero. Because I helped him finish what his father couldn’t. He didn’t look at me like I was fragile or broken. He didn’t tip-toe around me. He didn’t see me as some ghost. And that is part of the reason why I fell for him. He always saw me as this goddess. Like Superwoman.” 

Spencer smiled at this. 

He wanted to be that person for you. He wanted to be your Superman. (But he feared that he couldn’t live up to that. That he would fail you when the time came.) 

JJ found a parking spot, and parked, but Spencer lingered - sensing there was more to the conversation. 

“You know… Henry wants a puppy.” JJ’s voice shook, her throat clenching up around these words. 

Spencer’s stomach shook. 

He hadn’t been there, but he had seen the scars on JJ’s arms. He had seen the footage of the other poor woman being torn apart by those dogs. 

“And I had to tell Will everything. How I was chased down, how I had to shoot two innocent animals - the stupid fact that I still feel guilty about it, even though they would have killed me if I hadn’t done it.” She said, her throat becoming more closed off with each word. She cleared it before she spoke again. “How I lost you, how it was all my fault.” 

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault.” Spencer felt the need to say this aloud, reaching over and putting a gentle hand on her knee. She nodded at him before she continued. 

“Just - it was all so overwhelming. The idea of having a dog in our house. But… I told him that I wanted to try, at least. For Henry.” JJ explained. “But when we went to the animal shelter - the sound of dogs barking… I couldn’t stop myself from flinching. And next thing I know, I’m sitting on the curb outside with my head between my knees and Will is putting a bottle of water to my lips.” 

“Henry seems more like a cat person anyway.” Spencer replied, hoping this slightly humorous comment would offer some comfort to his friend. 

JJ let out a tired laugh. 

“He’s three and a half, I think we’re still in the stage where a goldfish is more than enough for him.” She added on. 

“I - I never told Y/N.” Spencer said, suddenly shifting the conversation. JJ raised her brow, prompting further explanation of this. “I never told her what happened to me. What happened with Hankel.” 

JJ gave him a sad look. 

“Why not?” 

“I - I didn’t want her to view me as weak. I couldn’t fight him off. I accepted the drugs. At certain points, I…. I even pitied him.” Spencer replied. “I didn’t want things to change between us. Even though they did anyway.” 

“Do you still wanna be with her?” JJ asked. 

“What?” Spencer gaped, not expecting the question. 

“If the kid is yours, obviously you wanna be in his life. But co-parenting as separate, single people is one thing.” JJ explained herself. “Do you still want to be with Y/N? Do you still love her?” 

“Yes.” Spencer replied shyly. 

“Then you have to tell her everything.” JJ said firmly. “Being with someone for the long term isn’t about creating some fantasy. I fell in love with Will because he looked at me like I was Superwoman, but I stayed in love because he takes care of me when I’m powerless. You have to be weak in front of her and let her take care of you, so that you can be strong everywhere else.” 

Spencer sighed - letting this wisdom fully penetrate him. 

He knew that being a genius sometimes meant that he wasn’t the smartest person in the room. Apparently, this was one of those times. 

“You’re right.” 

Then, he reached for the car door’s handle, feeling like JJ had taught him a lot with that conversation and he needed some time to think alone. 

“You want me to come with you?” JJ asked. “You might need a woman’s opinion on what to get,” 

“No thanks, I know Y/N pretty well.” He replied. “At least I hope I still do.” He opened the door fully and stepped out. “And I wanted some alone time, to… think all of this over. To think about what I’m gonna say to Y/N. I’m gonna walk back afterwards, the house is only a few blocks away.” 

JJ nodded. 

“I should check back in with Hotch.” She noted. “See if they found anything with the other women on the list. Otherwise, all we’ve got is the flowers.” 

Just as he moved to close the door again, JJ spoke up one last time. 

“Rubble.” She said suddenly - which sounded very strange with no context. 

“What?” Spencer asked, ducking his head down to see inside the car to potentially hear her words better. 

“Rubble - it’s a character from the kids’ TV show, Paw Patrol.” She explained. “There was about five action figures of him sitting on the living room floor back there. So I would assume that he’s your son’s favorite character.” 

Spencer’s chest jumped at the way she said ‘your son’ - so casually. 

He could really have a child in his life. This could really be his future. 

If he played his cards right, this could be his future with you. 

“Thank you, JJ.” Spencer grinned at her. 

She smiled back and he stood up to his full height and closed the car door, walking off into the shopping center by himself. 

And of course, his thoughts drifted back to you. 

He thought back to the last time he had spent your birthday with you. Before Hankel, before all the madness. Before everything good in his life slipped through his fingers and he was left feeling so alone. 

… 

For someone with basically no serious relationships under his belt before you came along, Spencer was excellent when it came to romance. 

Perhaps it was because he spent his time reading the classics - he could recite Elizabethan poetry off by heart, he could whisper epic romantic ballads in your ear before kissing you with such intense passion that it left your head spinning. He had such a perfect picture of what romance should be, and it meant that he knew how to plan a date that left you feeling like a queen. 

Every single time he took you out, he made you feel like you were the only woman on earth - like he would move the seas and the sky just to show you how much he cared. 

And because he insisted that your birthday should be a day all about you - a day dedicated to celebrating you - then this was certainly no different. 

The night had been a whirlwind of perfection. 

After dinner at a gorgeous fine dining restaurant downtown, Spencer then drove the two of you to an art gallery to stroll around. He cited that he wanted you to have some down time for your food to settle before he gave you your present. From the spark in his eye, you had a feeling that you knew exactly what that present would be. The whole evening was so utterly beautiful and peaceful. And like everything with Spencer - it was a pleasant enrichment of the mind, looking at art while he told you things about the artists or the origins of the paintings. 

Before you got halfway through the gallery, he checked his watch and told you that it was ‘just about time’ for your present, and then he drove you back to his apartment. 

The two of you barely made it through the door before you had him pinned against it, your mouth enveloping his in a hot, desperate kiss. You were so utterly grateful to have such a romantic, thoughtful man in your life. 

The entire evening had been nothing but a reminder of that - the way he looked at you with love so pure in his eyes. Him opening doors for you, keeping his hand on your lower back to usher you gently around, speaking lowly to you as though his words were precious and only meant to be yours. 

You needed him. You needed to show him how much you appreciated all of it. You needed him to know how much of a treasure he was in your life. 

You reached for his belt and Spencer let out a choked off moan into your mouth. 

You were surprised when he reached for your wrist, gently pulling your touch back - stopping you from unfastening the belt as he pulled his now slightly swollen lips away from your kiss. 

“As - as much as I want to,” He huffed out against your mouth. “I - I still have to give you your present.” He noted, flashing you a smile. 

“I thought this was my present.” You replied, reaching down to grope Spencer’s half hard cock through his pants. 

He let out a groan; but then he reached for your wrist again, pulling your touch back. 

“I - I promise - later - afterwards? Later tonight.” He stuttered out, hard pressed to focus as more blood rushed to his cock. 

Spencer puzzled you. You had never known any other man to interrupt foreplay for something other than sex, unless it was life or death. But it made you very curious about what your present was and why he was so desperate to give it to you. 

And sex was still on the table, so that panging need between your legs would be taken care of eventually. 

You hummed in ascent and stepped back, releasing Spencer from where you had him pressed against the door. He gulped in a large breath of air before he moved across the room. 

You were surprised when he didn’t move to turn on any lights in the apartment, leaving the two of you settled in comfortable darkness. The only lights being the light from the bathroom that he had left on before leaving, shining down the hall, and the dim lighting coming in the windows - some street lights and the occasional passing car’s headlights. 

Spencer shrugged off his blazer and tossed it over the back of the couch on his way toward the window. He yanked up the blinds in front of the space where he had set up a very expensive, advanced, gorgeous telescope - one that had been there the last few times you had visited. Astronomy was one of his many hobbies, and he often invited you to view different stars or passing comets. It was just one of the many things you learned from him - knowledge you absorbed from being around him that made you feel infinitely smarter. 

You always indulged in the joy of feeling smarter just from being in his presence. You loved that Spencer was someone so gifted who loved to share his knowledge, rather than gatekeeping it or being snide toward others who weren’t as privileged as him. It was just another thing to love about him - the fact that he was so kind in sharing his big brain with others. 

You watched him with intrigue while you took your wrap off your shoulders and tossed your purse onto the couch. Enjoying the quiet and the peaceful darkness and watching him work, you moved to sit on the arm of the couch to begin unstrapping your heels. 

He checked his watch again, and then looked to a small side table he had near the telescope. He flipped open a notebook that he had there, and you supposed that the minimal light coming in through the window was enough for him to see whatever it was that he had written there. He adjusted the telescope slightly, then looked at the notebook again, then adjusted the telescope again. 

Then he said ‘aha, there you are’ under his breath, grinning widely to himself. 

The entire thing made your insides glow with curiosity. 

Spencer then turned back to you, still grinning widely. When he noticed your shoe half-hanging off your foot, he stepped over to you and softly grabbed your ankle, sliding your shoe off the entire way before gently rubbing the sole of your foot. 

“Let me help you with that, Princess.” He said quietly, before moving to take the shoe off your other foot. 

Again, your insides tingled as he made you feel like you were the most important woman on earth. 

“Thank you.” You replied, almost speechless at the action. 

“If you’ll step right this way, I can show you your present.” He said, motioning toward the telescope with a dramatic flare. 

You let out a giggle as you stepped over your abandoned shoes and moved to look into the telescope. 

You wondered if he had written some poem and taped it onto the other end of the lens or something like that (it was Spencer, it must have been something epically romantic). But as you bent down and closed one eye to get a good look, it was entirely ordinary. 

The telescope was focused on a single, tiny star. 

It was beautiful, but it was very… plain. And more than anything, it was confusing. 

Your present was… a star? 

“Spencer, I don’t really get it?” You sighed, standing up to your full height once again. 

“I got you a star.” He said proudly, grinning even wider now. 

When you stared at him with more intense confusion, Spencer reached over to the notebook and pulled something out. After he handed it to you, you leaned into the light of the window and studied it carefully. 

It was a certificate stating that Spencer had paid to name the star after you. 

He had literally changed the night sky for you. 

“Oh my god.” You gasped quietly. 

You felt so overwhelmed. 

If he had made you feel like the most important woman in the world before, then now - you felt like the most important woman in the galaxy. 

“Spencer, this is - this is too much.” You said, your throat clenching up slightly due to the intensity of the emotions. 

“No, it’s not.” He said firmly, reaching out and putting a hand on your jaw, tilting your face up from looking at the certificate to look at him. 

There it was again, all of it spelled out in his eyes - the adoration, the pure, overwhelming affection that he felt for you. It bloomed nothing but those same feelings in return from you. It was almost so overwhelming that you felt like you could have exploded from how much love you felt for this man, all of it swelling inside of you so quickly that you felt like your body couldn’t contain it. Like it was a sickness that was going to overrun your body if you weren’t careful. 

“Spencer.” 

His name swelled in your throat like that throbbing love, and you couldn’t help yourself from reaching out and grabbing him by the front of his shirt, pulling him into another kiss. Because of course, words weren’t enough. You smothered him with your mouth, trying desperately to communicate every ounce of passion and gratefulness you were feeling with the heat of that kiss. 

Spencer held you, engulfing both your cheeks with his large, warm hands, kissing you back with just as much intensity. 

Both of you lingered there for a few moments, savoring each other’s lips, mingling in each other’s breath. 

You were disappointed when Spencer pulled away. 

“There is something else.” He told you, a bit of glee edging on his voice. 

“What?” You gaped, shocked by this. 

“There’s something else I have to give you. Another part of your present.” He clarified, pulling back completely - likely in order to fetch this thing. 

You let out a breath. You weren’t sure how this magnificent man could possibly do more. 

You placed the certificate for the star down on the table where Spencer had kept it. Later, you would take it home and have it framed, wanting to display it proudly. You could imagine yourself putting it up in the front of your home when you eventually moved in with Spencer. You could put it next to your marriage certificate; eventually, put next to wedding photos when the two of you eventually got married. (And sometime later, it would be hanging alongside photos of you and Spencer with your kids. You tingled, realizing that this was the first time you had ever thought of having kids with him, but it fit so well. It seemed right.) 

The thought made you tingle. 

You could truly imagine yourself having a life with Spencer. Standing proudly because this was just the beginning of it. He truly felt like ‘the one’ you had always been waiting for. 

“Here.” 

Spencer’s voice pulled you from your plethora of dreamy thoughts, and you turned to see him holding a velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat at the passing thought that it might be the box - but no. Now wasn’t the time. The two of you had only been dating for a year and a half. And while you were so deeply in love, you knew that it was a bit haste to assume that he was ready for marriage when you were his first serious girlfriend. You were still both so young. 

He opened the lid and you let out a small gasp when you saw it. 

It was a simple, elegant silver necklace. The pendant was a four pointed star, with a small, dainty stone in the middle. You easily recognized it as your birthstone, meant to represent the fact that he had given it to you on your birthday. And obviously the star pendant as a whole represented that he had also gifted you a literal star in the sky on that same day. 

“Spencer, it’s so beautiful.” You said, utterly breathless. 

“Traditionally, the four pointed star is believed to represent the designation of a goal. It marks one’s great endeavors, because it seems to point to the four cardinal directions. This star is meant to guide someone, like a map - the way that sailors used the stars to guide their path.” 

Spencer explained, knowledgeable as he always was. 

“I - I chose this for you because… well, because when I met you, I felt as though I had accomplished great things in all areas of my life, except for one. Academically, I was satisfied. In my career, I was happy. But when it came to matters of the heart… I was utterly clueless. And when I found you… it felt like you were my guiding star. Like you were the person I had been waiting for to finally show me - show me the meaning of love.” 

“Oh, Spencer.” Your voice cracked around these words, barely able to form them. “Oh, honey. I love you so much. Thank you.” 

It was all your mind could gather at the moment. It wasn’t the first time you had said it to him, but it was certainly one of the most intense. 

“I love you too.” He replied. Through the dimness, you could almost see tears forming in his eyes. “You truly make me so happy.” 

Spencer then cleared his throat harshly, wanting to clear away his intensely emotional tears. 

“Can - can I put it on you?” He asked shyly, motioning with the necklace in its box. 

“Of course.” You grinned. “I’d love that.” 

You turned around and Spencer took it out of the box, fiddling with the dainty clasp for a moment before he put it around your neck and then did it up for you. It felt so right around your neck. It felt like his love was being carried with you. You had a feeling that you wouldn’t want to take it off anytime soon. You could easily imagine yourself feeling so proud to answer whenever random strangers or your co-workers asked where it was from. 

When it was secured around your neck, Spencer leaned in and laid a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against the chain. This simple act reminded you of that needy throb between your thighs; of what you had been wanting so badly the moment you had come in the door. 

“So…” He whispered against your neck. “What else does the birthday girl want?” 

“I can think of a few things.” 

That was how you ended up with your back pressed against the softness of the couch - too impatient to even make it to the bed - with your dress pushed up around your waist, your panties tossed somewhere in the middle of the living room rug. Spencer’s glasses were pressed up onto his forehead while his knees dug into that same rug, his fingers splayed across your thighs, holding you open to makeway for his tongue. 

He ate you out with all of the intensity and passion that he had kissed you with - moaning into your pussy as though he was singing directly to the gods. 

“Fuck, Spence.” You moaned, raking your hands through his hair, holding him close - not that he would want to pull away for even a second. 

He loved your taste more than anything in the world, and he savored every second that he got the privilege of being on his knees for you. He moaned into your pussy, loudly, almost pathetically - hot echoes coming from his lungs as though he was the one being pleasured. He laved his tongue across you with an open jaw, drinking in as much of you as possible while your thighs quaked around his head. Your nails dug into his scalp and he only moaned harder, loving the sound of your needy whines and your gasping breaths as your clit throbbed under his tongue. 

Spencer hummed in delight while he bounced your clit on his tongue, loving the feeling of that sweet little bead throbbing against him; loving your taste, loving your echoing moans. Loving how much he could bring you pleasure. 

“Fuck, Spence, so close!” 

He put his lips around you and sucked then, holding you gently against him by the hips. He couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of your body quaking against his face while your orgasm overtook you. It was overwhelming and beautiful and warmed your whole body - just like the love you felt for him. 

He pulled away after a moment, when he was sure that he had seen you through to the satisfying end, and he grinned against the mound of your pussy. 

“Happy birthday, pretty girl.” 

… 

After the break-up, Spencer often looked up to the sky and thought about you. 

On the nights when your star was in place overhead, he felt a particular pang in his chest. He wondered where you were and what you were doing. He wondered if you were safe. He spent many nights staring out his telescope, wondering if you were happy, blanketed under that inky sky. 

You thought about the star sometimes, too. 

You thought it was a lot like your relationship with Spencer. Placing all of your hopes and dreams onto something already dead - something where the light had died out long ago.

...

Continue reading: Chapter Three - Turn It Off

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Walkway

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader (Reader is a teacher in Jackson, has long hair.) Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: It’s your birthday, Joel takes you out to the Tipsy Bison, kisses (and does more to) you in the rain, and takes you home to give you a gift (it's sex, the gift is sex). Also, the thought of Joel spitting whiskey in someone's mouth happened and I had to write it out. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Warnings: smut, drinking, consent first, degradation second, followed by so much praise, hair pulling, spitting, Joel calls you a slut, fingering against a brick wall, F receiving oral, I watched that doggy style Narcos gif (for research) a lot, unprotected p in v, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), Joel’s canon age, Reader’s in her 30’s. Words: 4,300 A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first published fic. I'm currently working on a grander scale fic with these two, I hope to have the first chapter out within the next couple of weeks. I just really wanted to get this out there! Thanks for reading and a big thank you to @ohheypedrito for all of her help and also to our phones for not overheating when I send 40 texts at once with ideas for fics. Hope you enjoy, can't even blame the feralness of this on the full moon.

Edit: I posted the Masterlist for Elks, my work these two are included in.

***

“Was turning 21 as fun as they’d show in movies back then?” You’re cuddled in next to Joel on his couch sketching in your notebook while Joel reads a book about Native Americans that you found him. You always do this, a random question or thought to break the comfortable silence.   

“Not for me, bought a 12 pack of Bud Light and split it on my porch with Tommy. Sarah was only a toddler then and I had work in the morning. Didn’t have the money or the time to go to a bar. ‘Course I don’t think a lotta people did anything the way they’d show in the movies.”

“I always wanted to have my 21st birthday at a bar, ya’ know? Wait until the clock strikes midnight and order a weird named shot.”

“Well, I reckon we could do that at the Bison tomorrow night. Might not be your 21st but I’ll get you whatever you want to drink, and the best part is you can drink before midnight.” Joel pulls you in closer and kisses your forehead, “What do you say, let me take you out for your birthday sweetheart.”

“Yes, please,” you sigh into his shoulder, “sounds amazing.”

“Wear that little blue dress I know you have hanging in your closet.”

The drinks flowing through you making you downright giddy, alcohol making you bolder, your body and your inhibitions becoming looser, your hands becoming addicted to touching Joel, first his leg, then his thigh, now his lower stomach, right at his waistband. You haven’t been this tipsy in a long time, your face feeling flushed and red more from your desire than any drink you’ve had tonight.

“You better knock that off before I take you outside in the rain and fuck you against the building, darling,” Joel huffs into your ear. His fiery warning massaging your neck causing your heart rate cooled by your inebriation to pick up. 

“Sooo, keep going?” You slur back. 

“If that’s what you really want,” Joel puts a forceful squeeze on your upper thigh, a layer of your dress laying between his skin and your skin. If you weren’t both sitting at the bar, and maybe in one of the more darker corners of the saloon you’d surely hike your skirt up and let him learn just how bad you want him.

It feels so good to let go with him, to giggle openly at his jokes, stare at his profile as he talks with a friend or two who stop by to say hello, or place your hand on his broad back just because you want to touch his soft blue denim shirt. 

You watch as his tongue darts out and licks the leftover whiskey off his top lip, Joel’s movements becoming a little slower thanks to the amber liquid he’s been drinking all night. Some droplets glisten on his mustache, you fight every urge inside yourself to not lean over and lick them up. 

“It’s what I want,” you respond as you move your hand back and forth across his waistband.

“Jesus Christ, I’m about ready to throw you over my shoulder and run home,” Joel says as he takes your hand into his and pulls it away.

“Not so fast. You told me you’d fuck me in the rain, that’s what I want for my birthday,” you whisper into his ear with a breathy giggle.

“Can’t fuck you out here in public. Small town ‘n all, but I’ll make you feel good,” Joel takes a last swig of his drink, puts the glass down and knocks his fist on the bar to let the bartender know you two are leaving. He leans forward and drawls into your ear, “Now finish your drink if you want me to show you just how happy of a birthday I can give you.” 

You nod and gulp your drink down. You’re so wet, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this turned on before. Joel grabs your arm with the perfect amount of pressure, you’ve never been so happy to get outside into the pouring rain. 

——

It’s absolutely storming outside, your footsteps sloshing in the puddles on the ground. The rain pelting your’s and Joel’s bodies as you walk through late night Jackson. It feels like you’re the only two people in the whole town as you make your way farther away from the bar. The bulbs of the string lights reflecting off the water gathering on the sidewalks making your path towards Joel’s house golden. You don’t rush, the two of you not scared away by the downpour, the drops cooling your burning skin. Joel turns down the street before his, pulling you behind one of the storage buildings, it’s darker back here, practically pitch black thanks to the rain clouds blocking the moon and the nearest light source being three buildings down. You’re pushed up against the brick, Joel’s hand gently cradling your head to block it from hitting the wall, he’s such a gentleman. 

“Happy birthday baby, I need you to tell me you want this, ‘n you’re okay with this, I have plans for you and I need you to tell me you want it.” Joel instructs you, all you can see is his eyes and the faint lines of his facial hair, the rest of him camouflaged by the darkness surrounding the two of you. 

“I want it, more than anything. Please,” your voice straining as you beg. 

“Tell me you want me to have my way with you,” Joel speaks into your slack mouth as he rubs his arched nose against yours. 

“I want you to have your way with me,” you moan against his wet shirt, “so bad.”

“Good girl, now, m’not gonna fuck you here, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop and I need to have you in my bed tonight.” Joel starts to move his hand down your body lifting the hem of your dress. “But, you are going to cum for me right here.” Joel captures your mouth with his. His hand starts to trace the outline of your panties, you mew out a cry as his fingers slip through and begin to pet you right where you ache the most. His hands are so big, his fingers so long and thick, always putting the right amount of pressure, moving the way you need him to move. Joel Miller is a capable man, everyone knows that, but nobody, except for you, knows just how capable he is. 

Joel sticks a finger in you, though his finger is thick and feels so good, you need more to fill you. 

“Another,” you instruct in between fevered kisses. Your pussy clenches as Joel pushes another finger in you. “Yessss,” you moan out against his lips.

“That’s my good girl, gotta get you stretched out f’me.” Joel begins to kiss his way down your chin and neck stopping at your chest, your hard nipples jutting through your wet dress. Joel takes one into his mouth, sucking the fabric and your tit deeper into his mouth. The sloppy wet sounds of Joel’s suctions making you want him more.

“Another finger,” you shudder out. “Three? You really want it tonight, don’t you?” Joel mumbles against your chest as he sticks a third finger in. It burns, it burns in the best way. You’re ready for him, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all night. You bite down on your lip as your legs begin to shake, Joel can tell you’re right on the edge and twists his fingers inside of you as he finger fucks you harder. 

Your orgasm bursts forward your whole body going stiff as you try not to wail out into the night.

“That’s iiiiiit baby,” Joel pulls his fingers out of you and softly pets your pussy from hole to clit.

He removes his hand from between your legs bringing it up between the two of you resting his finger tips against your lips, you open your mouth and begin to lick. His tongue meeting yours as you both clean his thick digits covered in you. He takes his hand away leaving just your mouths to taste each other. His kiss turns tender, your kiss turns desperate.

Joel pulls away resting his forehead against yours. “My beautiful birthday girl. Let’s get you home, my gift’s not done.”

——

Your body practically chills with the promise of what is left to come. Joel grabs your hand and you take it depending on him to lead you to his home. Every step you take you feel your wet core heavy with lust, you’re soaked from the rain and from Joel, if you could drown like this, you would go down with the sinking ship. His house comes into view, your body tingling in anticipation at the site as the both of you speed your footsteps up in perfect agreement. 

He throws open the gate, you’re following so close you almost trip on his heels making your way up the walkway and steps. He fumbles for his keys and unlocks the doors, you take the opportunity to run your hands all over his back and sides, rubbing the wet cloth of his shirt as it molds to his body. The door swings open and you both shuffle into his living room gasps escaping your mouths, both out of breath from your dash home and your mutual want for each other. You step out of your wet shoes and shake your hair out. 

“Take your dress off, right now.” Joel huffs out as he tosses his keys on the console table and begins to kick his boots off. 

You strip yourself of your baby blue frock as fast as you can. You’ve never had a reason to wear such a revealing piece of clothing. You don’t know why you held onto it, let alone grabbing it from the communal clothing rack, never thinking anything, or anyone, would be worthy enough for you to dress up for. Joel’s worthy, so worthy. 

“Feel like I’m a little underdressed here…” your words grab Joel’s attention as he moves his hands up to his chest to begin to unbutton his denim shirt. He gets one button taken care of before he rips it open. Shame, it’s your favorite shirt, you'll have to fix it for him later. You watch as a button rolls underneath a table, before you can note where it lands, your attention turns back to Joel to find him stepping out of his jeans and underwear leaving him completely naked. 

What a sight, what a fucking sight. There’s only a lamp on in the room, Joel’s body being cast in amber color and shadow, one side of him on full display glowing in the light, the other more difficult to discern. He moves forward stalking you. “Now I’m the underdressed one here. Take them off for me,” he says as he moves to pick up a bottle of whiskey from his shelf. 

You follow his instructions shucking your underwear down your legs and leaving them pooled at your feet. 

“Good girl,” Joel says as he begins to walk towards you unscrewing the lid off the bottle. He stands in front of you and takes a drink. “Open your mouth,” he orders as he grabs your hair and tips your head back. He takes another pull from the bottle, this time he raises his mouth over your mouth and begins to dribble drips of whiskey down from his mouth into yours. A moan raises from your throat, causing Joel to tighten his hold on your hair and arch your head back even more. He spits the rest of the whiskey straight into your mouth, you happily swallow his spit and liquor down. He unwinds his hands from your hair, takes another drink and kisses you, the whiskey and his tongue spilling into your mouth. Joel pulls back and takes his last swig before resting the bottle on the table. “Get upstairs.”

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life, tripping over your feet as you rush your way up, Joel’s naked form hunting you like prey up each step.

The sight of Joel’s bed brings a new wave of goosebumps to your skin. 

“Bend over on the bed darlin,” Joel turns on a lamp in the corner and pulls it closer. “Need to lick and fuck you with my tongue.” 

You move over to Joel’s side of the bed and bend forward, your ass sitting high in the air and your face in the sheets, you inhale the smell of Joel on his sheets. You swing your hips in giddy anticipation of what’s about to happen. 

You feel his body lean over yours, his erection laying over your lumbar. “Okay baby, once again, need you to tell me you’re good with me having my way with your body,” he tempts into your ear. 

“Fuck, y—yes, fuck, of course I am good. So good.”

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s heavy body lifting off of yours as he kneels between your legs. You feel his hot breaths on you where you’re aching for him the most, you widen your stance egging him on to touch you. “Look at you,” Joel licks your thigh, “so fuckin’ wet you’ve spilled out into your thighs.” 

You scream a pleasured yell as Joel’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your thigh and sucks your skin into his mouth. The pain is perfect. He loosens his bite, kissing and licking the spot, the sensation making your body quiver. 

“Okay baby?”

“Y-y-yessss,” you answer.

“Whaddo you need sweetheart?” 

“Lick me,” you beg out, “please.”

“‘Course. Where do you want me to lick you?” Joel questions as he nuzzles his head against your ass cheek, giving it a small bite.

“My pussy. Pleeeaaase,” you’d say you sound pathetic but you couldn’t care less, your lust overshadowing any type of pride.

“Mm, you sound so needy baby, you sound like you really need my tongue on you, huh?” His teasing drawl drives you crazy, your body won’t stop moving, absolutely radiating tensity from your want.

“Please,” you implore, sobbing out. 

“Alright baby,” his hands grab your cheeks and spreads them, widening his view of you. “Prettiest thing I ever seen, love your pussy.”

This act feels so depraved, everything on display for him, legs and cheeks spread wide, your pussy exhibited for him like it’s an art piece.

You literally scream into the bed, biting down on Joel’s comforter as his tongue finally meets your core. This, thiiiiiiis is what you’ve been wanting all night. Joel moans against you, not being able to hold himself back as he tastes you, his fevered licks exploring your cunt, his large tongue mapping every inch of you. He’s absolutely conquering you, the noises of his lips and tongue smacking against your wetness soundtracking his journey. 

He can feel you getting close your hips beginning to cant as your orgasm begins to crest. You knew it wouldn’t take long, between the alcohol buzz and Joel’s tongue lapping up your wetness and cum from earlier, you knew you’d be a goner. 

“Mmf, cum for me,” Joel speaks against you, his mouth full of you, too busy to pull away to clearly speak. You don’t think he can get any closer to you, his tongue working your orgasm up in intensity with each swirl and dash against your clit. You feel it, it’s here. Your legs instantly collapse, thankful that the rest of your body is resting on the bed. Your eyes tightly squeeze shut and then begin to rapidly blink as your orgasm shatters through you. Joel flattens his tongue against your clit as it pulses. You’re too turned on to make a noise, Joel stepping in for you and groaning as your juices seep out of you. 

“Did so good baby,” Joel says leaving one last kiss on your clit before standing up behind you. You want to flip over to look at him, you haven’t seen his face since you laid down on the bed. You have no energy, you’re just a shell of a woman, the only sensations you can feel is the pool of wetness in between your legs and your light inebriation.

Your attention gets pulled to the sound of Joel spitting in his hand, followed by a hiss coming out of his mouth. When you realize exactly what he’s doing, you summon the strength needed to turn over. You flip over, your back thudding on the mattress your legs still spread wide, feet resting on the floor. And there…. there…. THERE he is, standing in the middle of his room, one large hand wrapped around his hard cock softly stroking as he watches you with hooded eyes. You know you just came, but the sight makes your pussy clench with desire. 

Joel jerks himself off as his eyes roam your exhausted form. “Been thinking ‘bout this all day. You all laid out in front of me heaving for air after cummin’ all over my tongue,” slow strokes matching his lazing words. “Just about canceled our night out when you opened your door in that little blue dress, looked like you were wearing the sky, baby.” 

You bite your lip as all of your senses are so overtly overwhelmed by lust. The sight of Joel’s handsome face watching you, the hazel flecks in his eyes twinkling in the golden light of the lamp. The smell of the rain on your skin mixed with the heady scent of your arousal and Joel’s sheets. The taste of Joel’s whiskey tongue still in your mouth. The sound of Joel’s fist pumping along his hard cock. The feel of the aftershocks of your orgasm still quaking your body. It’s so fucking much, you need Joel inside you. The thought of feeling him stretch you causes a whimper.

“Yeah baby? Havin’ a hard time over there?” Joel stops stroking his hard length, his hand pauses on his shaft. “You want me to fuck you now?” 

“Pleeeease,” you keen out. 

“Alright sweetheart.” Joel confidently strides over to you, dick still in hand. He stops right at the edge of your feet. “Turn back around ’n get on all fours in the middle of the bed f’me.” 

You follow his instructions eager to please. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can feel Joel enter you. 

“Good girl,” he praises as the mattress dips lower with his weight behind you.

Your heart is pounding so loud, your whole body thrumming, you gulp down a breath of air trying to calm your need. You feel Joel’s cock brush against your ass cheek, he’s so close to fucking you.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you real good and hard now. Happy birthday baby.”

And just like that, Joel buries his cock inside of you, you’re absolutely stretched around him. Your clit already worked over by Joel’s tongue, now your hole deliciously stinging while it flutters around his cock. He begins thrusting, tender and slow full strokes. Entering and exiting, swirling the head of his cock right at the entrance before plunging back in because he knows you love the feeling. Joel’s groans and your cries join in song as he begins to pound faster, the sound of your bodies slapping together match the rhythm. 

“Feel so fucking good, always so perfect for me. S’a good girl, always take it so good,” Joel grits out. 

He grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist as he pounds into you. “No one knows how fucking slutty you get for me behind these walls. They think you’re one of those innocent little teachers.” Joel pulls your hair harder causing a scream of ecstasy from you. “You love this, don’t you?”

You do. It’s so rough, so different from how gentle he always is with you. It feels like a luxury to be treated this way by him. 

“Y-y-y-yes, God I love it,” you whimper.

“That’s right. That’s what I like to hear. So pretty so smart. So much smarter than me, now I’m makin’ you stupid with my cock, right baby?” 

Everybody knows Joel Miller as the strong, silent type, a man of few words, somebody who doesn’t do chit chat. But with you in his bed naked and wailing as he slams into you, Joel Miller won’t shut up.

“Doin’ so good for me. So pretty, so perfect f’me. So wet for me.”   

“You made me so wet earlier, I was afraid I was going to leave a mark on the barstool.” Your words coming out as tortured weeps, so lost in your ecstasy you struggle with every word spoken. 

“Fuuuuuck.” That got him good. He pounds you even harder, the bed frame shaking violently against his wall, your body and cunt acting as if it’s the only barrier between Joel knocking a hole in the plaster. “Had I fuckin’ known I would have made you stick your face on that chair and made you lick yourself up as I fuck you against it.”

That’s it, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Joel’s deep timbered accent grunting those deviant words as he grabs you and begins to roll his hips into your cunt. Your body is strung so tight and rigid in all places besides your hips and core, pumping and rolling along with Joel’s as he fucks you. You’re close again, your panting breaths letting Joel know. 

“Baby, if you gotta cum, cum,” his grip on your hips pressure into you. 

“Going … going.. going to,” the only words you can say as your third orgasm radiates out of your body, your pussy is the epicenter, tingles firing through your veins, your hands fisting the blankets at your detonation. Slack jawed and fucked senseless you rally the strength to not disintegrate and fall into Joel’s bed. Your world has been shattered by Joel, but your body survives for him, your legs and arms shaking under gravity and your weight as they deal with the fallout. 

“C’mere baby, lemme help you.” Of course he can tell you’re struggling. He reaches his hands around, clutching your stomach and pulling you up against him. Your back up against his chest, his hand seeking out your breast, the other wrapping around your torso and clutching you to him. He holds you as he fucks into you, his nose brushing against your ear as he puffs and grunts against your neck. “Fucking. Love. You. So. Much.” Each word matching a thrust into you. Your hands find his and grip them, you’ve never felt more loved and protected. Joel Miller has got you.

You feel the familiar shudder in Joel’s movements as he edges close to his climax. His labored breaths getting louder and more fevered against your neck. You’re absolutely wrecked, but the angle of Joel’s cock inside of you mixed with the feeling of the shudder in his movements as he edges himself brings forth another orgasm. Words are gone, just sounds, whatever your throat can muster up and out of your mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” Joel repeats. His hands squeezing yours so tightly, his chest heaving against your back, his strong thighs straddling yours, his nose pressing into your ear. You feel his body tense as he pulls out. His release coating your pussy as his whole body surrounds you. Hot breaths huffing against the side of your face in between featherlight kisses. “Love you,” a whisper in your ear so delicate and sweet as he lets go of your hands. Your body falling forward without his support, your arms catching you before crashing down on the bed. Joel gets up with a groan as you lay yourself down on your stomach, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs out before rolling over on your side to watch Joel. He stands arms akimbo in the middle of the room. He’d look like a Greek statue if his shoulders weren’t rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. He’s gorgeous and he looks just as wrecked as you feel. 

“Probably shouldn’t have gotten up as quick as I did,” he chuckles. “Damn well feel like I’m standing in the middle of a earthquake.” You love the casual banter he puts forth seconds after being deep inside you, his cum still covering your core. This is love. 

You smile at him, your cheek resting on your hand as a makeshift pillow. You’re exhausted… the whole night and your four orgasms catching up with you. Eyes feeling heavy, matching your limbs you begin to drift off. 

A wet sensation in between your legs jerks you awake. “Sorry baby, just want to clean you up,” a whisper just as light as Joel’s tender attention as he washes you lulls you back to sleep. 

——

“Baby,” Joel’s low voice gently wakes you up along with a soft kiss to your forehead.

You groan as you stretch your sore muscles under the sheet, opening your eyes to find Joel gazing down lovingly at you. He’s backlit by the filtered morning sunlight shining in through his bedroom windows. What a way to wake up. “Happy birthday sweetheart, I’d let you sleep all day but I need to give you my present.” His face is so bright and cheerful, a boost in your confidence provided by just how happy he looks when he’s with you. 

“Thought you gave me your present already last night,” you yawn. 

“Sweet girl, that was a present for both of us. Now come on, get up.” You grab his offered hand and reluctantly get out of bed. Joel wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, his hands splayed across your back as you nuzzle your face in his warm chest. “Happy birthday.”

A/N: THANK YOU for reading my first ever fic. My inbox is always open. :)

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #elks #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal

[sardonic-the-writer]

—a text away

SUMMARY | in which you have a habit of blowing up wilburs phone

PAIRING | wilbur soot x reader

REQUESTED | no

WARNINGS | none

WORD COUNT | 1.2k+

AUTHORS NOTES | long distance fic. tagging @lyssys @zooone @beep-beep1

🍂 Masterlist 🍂 Navigation 🍂 Rules 🍂

Technology is everywhere these days.

It's the one thing that's almost impossible not to notice anymore. From the stoplights that direct traffic, to the earbuds nestled tight in pedestrians ears as they go about listening to music. Even our microwaves have been a product of humanities thirst for creation. Or maybe it was the thirst for power that spawned that one. You can never decipher the difference between the two these days.

But, you think your favorite bit of technology might be the ability to text your partner. Even when you're sat hundereds of miles away, watching as he livestreams.

"Alright chat—no. No that was not funny. I don't know why I even turned on media share."

Wilbur sat in his studio, cheek smushed up against his foam covered mic as he glanced at the speedy chat screen, looking for a coherent group to words to string together.

"I thought today was a chill day yeah?" He pretended to chastise the people on the other end of the screen, smiling as he went for a sip of water. A bit spilled from his mouth as he attempted to speak again, laughing it off before swallowing this time.

"No making fun of that. An—hold on! Yes it was a laugh, but we're not doing you laugh you lose. I already explained this. It's just a talking day. Don't—don't boo me you hooligans. I could end stream, do you want me to end stream?"

Sometimes being a twitch streamer, eyes constantly looking and expecting you to do something, or slip up, was enough to wear down everyone. Wilbur has had his fair share of bad days, a few of them ending in the thought of him ending streaming completely. But then there were moments like this that countered it, where the heckling didn't really feel like heckling and he could just be comfortable.

"Mods, I gonna need you to ban the next person who says babybur. I am not being a baby. This is—hey! This is not a tantrum! Ban them too!"

It was the times like these, where his face felt sore from smiling for so long, that he really appreciated being able to do what he did for a living. And the best part of it? He had met you along the way.

"No, (Y/n)'s not with me here today." Wilbur was quick to change the topic from everyone spamming babybur to his partner currently overseas. Chat always loved to pester him about you. Not like he cared. After finding out you were okay with him talking about you on stream, he found every excuse in the book to include you into each and every conversation he had, proudly boasting about how much he loves you.

"You guys want to see them again? Yeah, me too. Maybe if their okay with it next time their here, I'll bring em back on for a bit, yeah?" Wilbur already knew the answer before he had even asked it, watching as his chats speed broke the frame rate on his monitor after mentioning it.

A few more minutes of talking passed before he felt the days hours catching up to him. Normally he knew when he was getting tired enough to sign off, but this time it had taken his legs cramping up for him to take the hint.

"Chat I've got to go. And don't say five more minutes becuase the last time that happened you tricked me into staying for an hour more and I was late to a wedding." Wilbur began his wave at the screen, smiling warmly at his camera before clicking the end stream button.

Pushing his chair out, he was quick to stand up and stretch his legs. The office he worked in was great. Most of the time. It would be perfect if not for the fact he was just a little above the height average that the room seemed accustomed to holding.

"Bloody fuck." He sighed.

His phone was quick to be picked up. Wilbur liked to keep it a couple arms lengths away as he streamed. He had most of what he needed at his computer, and his insesent need for doom scrolling was sure to get in the way if he didn't limit himself while live.

However this did seem to get in the way of your equally peristant need for blowing up Wilburs phone like it was the last thing you would ever do.

The line only rung once on your end before you picked it up.

"Really darling?" That was the first thing you heard, your boyfriends warm chuckle following it shortly after. "Fourty eight messages? That's a new record for you."

"I missed you Wil. Plus I was watching this time from my computer. Chat was funny today." Your smile was audible to him, only resulting in him shaking his head with a laugh.

"You think so? All they talked about this entire time was a really sweet and adorable sounding person. Said they wanted to see them again soon. Couldn't recall their name though. Did you happen to catch it?" He teased you, sinking into his desk chair while wiping the edge of his fake glasses on his shirt.

"Did it happen to be (Y/n)." You answered with false curiosity.

"That's it!" Wilbur snapped his fingers even though you couldn't see him. "And honestly I think they're onto something. They sound amazing and I'd really like to see them. Preferably soon?"

You rolled your eyes. He always did this when you were on call. Well, he always did this anyways, not just on calls. You didn't like being away from him anymore than he did. But Wilbur had always been the more antsy one out of the two of you.

"Just a week more Wil and I'll be back at your flat in no time."

"Promise?"

"When have I ever lied to you love?"

"Well—" Wilbur cleared his throat. "—there was that time on Halloween when you said you were going to dress up with me, and when you lied about getting McDonald's without me, and don't even get me started on all the lies you said just to get that suprose party for me organized last year."

"Wow. You must be really proud of yourself for remembering all that Wil."

"I am, actually."

"Do you want a gold star."

"I know you're making fun of my but yes. Yes I would."

He listened as you laughed from the other end of the phone. He couldn't help falling in love with you. It was too perfect, the two of you. Like something out of his own songs. Wilbur wasn't one for the whole soulmates shtick, but he'd be damned if he said you were anything but that. His soulmate.

"I love you so much (Y/n)." He whispered. "And I hate I can't hold you right now. I hate that I can't kiss you and feel you in my arms."

Your laughing had ceased with a soft sigh. You knew what he meant and more. Too many a night you had laid awake, unable to sleep without the feeling of his hands around your waits and hoodie around your torso.

"I know Wil. Just seven more days and I'm all yours."

"Don't forget my gold star." It was quiet, but you still found yourself gently smiling.

"Seven more days, then me and that gold star are all yours."

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #dsmp #dsmp x reader #dsmp x you #dsmp x y/n #wilbur soot #wilbur #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur x y/n #fluff #one shot #x reader #fanfic

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 10

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Panic/Anxiety Attack. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f). Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 6.6k

Series List: Here!

Miss Track 9? Here!

Hi!!!! Once again I want to apologize for taking so long with this. I can't seem to ever stay awake to do anything. That being said, here it is! This is the last main chapter of our little lovebirds. There will be at least one, likely two bonus tracks coming soon though :) Also there's a smidge of Spanish in here from Pedro, but the translation is included in the end of the sentence. I took some Spanish classes back in the day but I don't speak it and had to use Google translate. So if it ISN'T right and you do speak Spanish, please let me know lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these little cuties on their first date. There's a lot, a lot, a lot of kissing in here (sorry...) and overall they're just grossly in love lol. Please let me know what you think, and if you've seriously read this far, I LOVE YOU! This is my first series, and honestly my first fic other than the one I wrote in my diary lmao. Like the reader, I am incredibly inexperienced so writing a relationship has been a bit of a challenge and half the time I don't believe the actual words I'm writing. But I really only started writing it as a way to write down my daydreams :) So to have support means the world to me, and hearing people comment/DM me saying how much they relate has meant so much and makes me feel a lot less alone, because ultimately, it doesn't matter how fictional it is, most of reader's feelings are my own. To anyone else in the same boat, I get you! Hang in there. I think there's a Pedro out there for us all. Someday. Anywho, pardon my ramble. Thank you for reading, I hope you like it. ❤

The next morning, you woke up and stretched your limbs, rolling over in your comfortable bed as the sunshine poured in through the window. At the shuffling of your body, Skipper groaned, wiggling a little in bed, nearly shoving you off the edge. You reached for your phone, blinking through your sleep a couple times before seeing a text from Pedro. “Good morning beautiful! I can't wait for our date today. I was thinking maybe we could start around 2:30 and spend the day together, if you'd like. But if that's too much, we can just make it a dinner date. Up to you which you would prefer. I understand either way. Love you ❤️”

He wants to spend the whole day with me!? And he sent me a good morning text and called me beautiful? Then signed it with a heart and love you?!!!! How did I get this man?

Your grin eclipsed your face, making you squint. If Mr. Grumpybutt weren't sharing the bed with you, you'd probably squeal and kick your feet. Tapping your phone screen, you typed out a reply. “Morning handsome ❤️ I would love nothing more than to spend the day with you. I love you too!” You sent the message before crawling out of bed gently, receiving a dirty look from Skip. 

“Alright Grump. Go back to bed. Geez,” you laughed. If looks could kill, you thought. He turned back on his side, letting out a grumble and sigh, resulting in a laugh from you. Acts like he pays rent and works 40 hours a week…

You took a relaxing shower, making sure to be all nice and fresh for your date with the man of your dreams. While brushing your teeth, you noticed he had replied. “Great, I can't wait. I'll be at your place at 2:30. :)”

“Can't wait to see you. What do you have planned? I'm wondering how to dress.”

“Wear whatever you feel good in, baby. I'm sure you'll look amazing. Probably something casual you can walk around comfortably in for the day. Maybe something a little dressier for the evening, but you don't need to carry it around. We will make a stop at your place before and you can change”

Wow he really has this planned out.

“What have you got planned, P? This sounds elaborate. You know you don't need to put in all that effort, I'm already yours ❤️”

“You deserve the world, my love.”

Dressed in a pair of leggings and a light sweater, you felt reasonably cute while still being comfortable for whatever activity Pedro had in mind. Plus, with the crisp November air, you would be nice and warm. You were just finishing tying your sneakers when your doorbell rang. 

You opened the door to find your handsome boyfriend standing on your step, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. “Mi amor,” he handed you the roses, kissing your cheek and hand. “Thank you Pedro,” your cheeks heated. “Come in,” you pulled his hand across the doorway towards the living room. Skipper pushed past you to investigate, causing Pedro to drop your hand.

“Well there he is! That handsome boy!” Skipper’s tail wagged and his butt wiggled as Pedro crouched to give ear scratches. “Oh, I love you too,” Pedro answered when Skip kissed his face frantically. A fit of giggles erupted from Pedro, making your heart swell with joy. He has the cutest laugh, and the fact that your dog is causing it was surreal. 

“You're just a beautiful boy! Aren't you?! Hermoso, igual que tu mamá,” he held Skipper’s face, kissing his nose. (Beautiful, just like your mama)

Your chest was filled with butterflies. Holy shit, he's charming. “Thank you, Pedro,” you said in a whisper, not even sure if he would hear. Turning his head from your dog, Pedro looked up at you, giving you a gentle smile; but the eye contact was quickly torn away when Skipper pressed a needy paw to Pedro's chest. Both of you now giggling, Pedro continued to pet Skipper, stopping to give him a hug and some more nose kisses.

“Alright. I gotta ask…” you prompted, causing Pedro to turn his head towards you again. “Are you just dating me to hang out with my dog?” You smirked.

Pedro turned back to Skipper, speaking in a low voice. “She's catching on to us buddy. We've been made.” You burst out laughing, Skipper looking over at you as if his plan really had been foiled.

Pedro gave a final pat on Skipper’s head before standing and walking over to you. “Nonsense,” he pecked a kiss to your lips. “I do love that sweet boy of yours,” he replied before turning his face to whisper in your ear. “But I'm absolutely enamored with you, Mamacita.” The hair on your neck stood as a chill rushed down your spine. You bit your lower lip, and he stared back into your eyes, leaning in for a passionate kiss. 

“You look beautiful,” he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You look rather handsome, yourself,” you replied. His hair was brushed back and to the side, his curls neatly swept and threatening to break free around his face. You wondered whether he asked for help to make his hair look extra nice for your date or if he styled it himself.

Running your fingertips over his patched salt and pepper beard, your hands found the small heart shaped patches near his chin. You brushed your thumb over his jaw before leaning in to press a kiss on the bare skin, causing his eyes to close as he let out a sigh. The whiskers tickled your cheeks as you continued kissing up his jawline, back across his cheek, and on his nose before pulling away to look into his eyes.

He opted to not wear glasses today, allowing you a closer look into his deep brown eyes which were softening under your gaze. “You ready to go, baby?” He asked you, his hand on your hip as he rubbed circles with his thumb.

“Absolutely,” you smiled. He wore a pair of dark jeans, tennis shoes, and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearm. He looked absolutely… incredible.

While you were grabbing your bag, he grabbed Skipper's leash. “Is Skipper coming too?” You asked, confused.

Skipper was twirling now, impatient to go somewhere.

“Sure is! Couldn't leave him out. But don't worry, you and I will have the night to ourselves,” he winked.

You looked downward, feeling shy and flushed. “Okay,” you giggled, clipping Skip to his leash and heading for the door.

“Do you want to take my car? You'll get dog hair and slobber in yours,” you offer.

“I don't mind! I love dogs,” Pedro replied, opening the door for Skipper to climb in the back seat. After closing the door, he opened the passenger door for you. Such a gentleman, you thought with a sigh, getting in and thanking him. 

As the car sped along, you looked over at your boyfriend driving the car. Boyfriend! That'll never get old… you thought to yourself. The air conditioning blew the few loose strands of hair on the top of his head, and his left hand gripped the wheel, making the veins on his hand prominent. With his right hand, he reached over, holding your left in his, resting on top of your thigh. 

He really did look beautiful. You couldn't help but stare at him as he expertly drove the car, hand flexing as he turned the wheel. His mouth pursed and he licked his lips, his tongue slowly jutting out to wet them. 

Damn, I want those lips on mine. That tongue in my mouth, you thought, feeling rather warm, despite the air conditioning swirling around the car.

“So where are we spending the day?” You asked, trying to quiet the flames of attraction licking at your pulse.

“It's a surprise! But we're almost there,” he answered, rubbing his thumb over the top of your hand.

Pedro looked in the side mirror and laughed. “Babe, look at Skipper.”

You looked to see him with his head out the window, ears and lips blown back with the wind, his tongue lolled out to the side and blowing with the speed of the vehicle.

You both chuckled before you warned him, “your car is going to be covered in slobbers, Pedro!” He gave another quick look to Skipper before replying. “That's okay. It'll help me remember this day until I wash it again,” he looked over at you and smiled. It felt so natural. So… domestic, the two of you sitting in the car, going on a date, him holding your hand while driving, and the two of you laughing at your dog in the back seat. It was just perfect. Everything you dreamed.

He wasn't joking when he said you were almost there. It was only about five more minutes until the car pulled into the parking lot of the dog-friendly beach. 

Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of salty sea air and hearing the chatter of gulls. The breeze blew your hair gently, but the day was relatively warm for November.

After the three of you exited the car, Pedro opened the trunk, pulling out a large picnic basket and tote bag. “You really came prepared, didn't you? Pedro, this is really special. Thank you.” Your eyes felt teary and the smile you held was genuine. Nobody has ever put this much effort into anything for you. Other than him.

“You don't need to thank me. I want you to be happy and I want the three of us to have a nice day,” he added, pecking your lips.

“Wait.. Pedro,” you frowned. “It looks kind of crowded. Should I be nervous about paparazzi or anything?” Your stomach bubbled with nervous energy.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. Celebs come here all the time. I've come here before. If they do, they might take pictures, but usually it's pretty low-key here. Try not to worry too much. I want you to have a nice time,” he squeezed your hand affectionately.

“Okay. I trust you,” you smiled at him as the three of you walked towards the sand, finding a nice place to picnic. Pedro unpacked, laying down a large blanket before setting up the spread of sandwiches, veggies, and fruit. He offered you a cold drink from the basket and the two of you sat, using a metal stake to secure Skipper’s leash near your blanket. He flopped onto his side, content to be sunbathing with some of his favorite people.

The lunch consisted of peaceful conversations and laughter, learning more about each other despite having talked for several months now. It seemed you could never run out of conversation topics. But even in the quiet moments, it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt relaxing. You were both content being able to sit together in silence and just enjoy each other's company.

After your meal, you packed up the basket and headed for the car again to put the things away, opting for a walk unburdened by carrying items across the sand. Neither of you brought a swimsuit today, but despite the California sun, it was still November, and the Pacific ocean was never really warm, even in the middle of summer. That didn't seem to bother Skipper very much though. As the two of you walked hand in hand near the water, barefoot in the wet sand, he ran laps around Pedro holding him on the leash, occasionally splashing through the shallow water before joining close by his family again.

He would definitely need a bath later, but you didn't mind. He was happy splashing around, having a great day. You were happy walking with the man of your dreams, fingers intertwined together. Everything felt right. You weren't even nervous, despite the way Pedro looked like the most handsome man you've ever seen, or the fact that he was famous, and that you occasionally received stares from other beach goers. Instead of the usual first-date nerves people get, you just felt love.

“So,” he started excitedly, “Obviously I have most of this date planned, but I also wanted to check in with you and see if you had anything particular in mind that you wanted to do together.”

You thought for a second, letting a memory burn into your thoughts. “Well,” you began, "I don't want to sound like a total creepy fan or anything...” you added, cautiously. You kinda were, with all the photos of him you had saved on your phone (prior to deleting them before your first meeting in person). But that's not important right now, and he probably doesn't need to know that. Maybe it can be a funny story later.

Pedro laughed, that cute little wheezy laugh he does with his giant smile that makes your stomach do somersaults. Those same somersaults you've been getting since you first saw that smile on the screen and knew you were absolutely screwed until you got over this crush. Or, unexpectedly, when you walked hand-in-hand with him, like you were now.

“But…?” he pondered, looking down at you sideways, with a playful smirk and those big brown eyes that could make you lose your mind. They absolutely glittered in the sunlight right now, reflecting all the joy and love he felt for you.

“Okay maybe I'm a little creepy…” you nudged him with your side, still gripping his hand in yours as the two of you walked peacefully. The beach was crowded, but you and him, and Skipper, were the only ones here as far as either of you were concerned. There could be a loud scream and it wouldn't compare to the squealing in your mind. A firework show would simply feel like a projection of your sparks. A tornado couldn't sweep you off your feet as well as he could. 

“Is this where you tell me you've been watching me sleep through my window for the past three years or something?” He raised an eyebrow, playful smile still on his face as he licked his lips.

“What?” You squeaked, laughing. “No. I mean… I did have some pictures saved of you, and have maybe read a fictional story or two about you and your characters…” or a few thousand, you thought.

You cringed. Why the fuck did I say that out loud?!

Your cheeks felt hot and you diverted your eyes away from the man beside you, a nervous grimace painted across your mouth. He barked out a laugh, pulling you into his side for a hug. “Baby, you're cute. I don't mind that you used to read those. I don't even mind if you still do. No different than a book, right? Maybe it'll give us some fun date ideas.” He rested his head on top of yours innocently.

Oh, if only he knew the things you read.

“Right. Fun date ideas,” you smirked to yourself. He pulled away to look at you, eyebrow raising playfully.

“Sweetheart,” he interrogated in the same tone you use when Skipper steals a sock from the laundry, “what kind of stories are you reading about me and my characters, huh?” He lifted your chin to meet his eyes. You'd feel nervous from his tone if he didn't flash a smug, knowing grin at you.

“Oh, you know…” you shrugged. “Just the typical romance stuff,” you turned, facing him and resting your hand on his chest, tracing a circle over his heart with your finger. You felt his pulse pick up under your touch, and saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

“What kind of thoughts are going through that pretty head of yours?” He asked, raising his brow while you continued tracing little hearts into his shirt with your index finger.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” You winked before removing your hand from his chest. Starting to walk away, you continued your earlier statement. “Anyway, as I was saying-”

“Oh, no you don’t,” he interrupted, laughing. “Don't think you're getting out of this conversation that easy,” he gently pulled your forearm, stopping your movement and sending you twirling into his arms once again.

“Maybe someday I'll tell you,” you giggled, booping his nose. 

“Someday? Why not tell me now?” He ran his thumb over your lip, eyes drifting down quickly before returning to your eyes.

“I'll show you the fanfics I read about you when I know you're stuck with me and you aren't going to run for the hills,” you laughed nervously, only partially joking.

His playful demeanor vanished before your eyes, turning into a look of… concern? Oh no. This is it. Where he realizes what a mistake he made. Where he says he doesn't want to be together. Where he breaks my heart.

He gently held your arm, rubbing soft strokes. “Honey. What are you talking about?” His soft brown eyes searched your face. You gulped, not wanting to make eye contact, but he again pulled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “I…” you floundered for the words. “I don't want to scare you away.”

“Why would I be scared away?” he asked in almost a whisper, concern and sadness lacing his features.

“Because I just had this huge, huge crush on you. So, I read fanfics and I saved all your photos and I watched all your movies. I spent more time on social media looking for updates on you. Just so I could see you, or imagine what being with you would feel like. Like a total crazy person. An absolute psycho creeper.”

“Baby…” he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You aren't any of those things. I actually think that’s kind of sweet. Although, it makes me a little sad thinking about the pain you must have felt, having these strong feelings and not having found each other yet.” He brushed your hair out of your face, settling his other hand on your waist before continuing.

“Feelings make us feel a little crazy sometimes, and although I never read fanfiction about you, or had any pictures to save, I would be lying if I said I didn't take a screenshot of us that first night you showed me your face.” He rubbed his neck bashfully.

Fanfic about me? What? If that even exists, I gotta see what people are saying…

“You did?” His admission surprised you, to say the least. He sighed before answering. “Yes. I had - have,” he corrected himself, “a pretty big crush on you too, baby. But I felt like I was betraying you in a way, taking a picture of you during our video chat. I just wanted to remember your face if I never saw it again,” he sighed.

“I fell in love with you the first time I heard your song... I heard you sing about your feelings and daydreams. So… you admitting about fanfiction and pictures isn't all that surprising.” You lowered your eyes in embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He stroked your cheek. You looked up and he continued. “I took that picture because I had already fallen so head-over-heels for you that the first time I saw your face, I stopped breathing. Although I knew I wouldn't be able to get the image of you out of my mind, I couldn't risk forgetting the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.”

You dropped your gaze again, cheeks feeling a permanent state of warmth and butterflies dancing from your stomach to your chest. “You don't honestly mean that, Pedro.” You sighed. “I appreciate it, but there's no way. I really don't know what you could ever see in someone like me,” you whispered, barely audible. If you weren't standing so close, he would've missed it.

Instead of responding, he dropped his arms from your body. At the loss of contact, your heart sank. But when you lifted your head to meet his eyes, he was fishing around his pocket for his phone. Calling an Uber to leave? Your self-doubt pestered.

A few taps to his screen later and he held up his phone. There you were, sitting at your table in your favorite dress, with your favorite food and flowers on the table. You had the biggest smile on your face and in the bottom corner, you could see Pedro looking handsome as always, and absolutely smitten with you, the largest grin painted across his features.

At the sight of the image, your heart warmed. “See what you mean to me?” He asked, putting his phone back into his pocket. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you,” you choked out, leaning forward to mold your lips to his. They fit together perfectly. Like they were made for each other. He pressed back before opening his mouth ever so slightly to lick at your lips. Matching his movements, your tongues met, dancing a waltz in exploration as he pulled you forward by your lower back, seeming as if trying to get as close as possible somehow.

As the two of you paused for air, he ran his hand further down your back, just barely grazing the dip of your spine where your torso meets your butt. He gave you a look, almost to determine your reaction, asking permission to let his hand continue. When you didn't back away, going as far as pulling him closer around his neck and leaning in for another kiss, he pressed his lips against yours in return and let his hands wander a little further down. When his hand wrapped around the cheek of your ass, you squeaked. This is new… and I like it, you thought. His whole hand fit across your cheek. His huge hands. You whimpered as he gave a squeeze, like he was claiming you as his own.

“I love you too.” He finally responded, pulling out of the kiss to search your eyes. “So tell me… what was this activity you wanted to add to our date? The one you fear makes you sound like a creepy fan?” He let out a small laugh, brushing your nose with his.

“This,” you replied, pressing another kiss.

“Kissing?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over your waist and resting his forehead to yours. “I think we've already been doing that, if I'm not mistaken.” He pecked your lips with his.

“Yes,” you kissed. “Well,” kiss. “Actually,” you pulled away enough to explain. “I read this interview you gave a few years ago about your ideal first date?”

“Yeah?”

“You said something about ‘a date that doesn't feel like a date. And

hopefully by the end, or throughout, very

good kissing.” You said, slightly cautious at your memorization, a bit nervous at the implication of what you're saying.

“Oh, is that what you want?” He flashed his eyes up to look at you, giving a devilish smirk. 

“Well, as someone who hadn't been kissed yet when I read it, I sorta lost my mind over it,” you laughed. “Obviously we've kissed before, but if it were up to me your lips would never leave mine,” you pressed your lips to his again.

“I think we should be able to make that happen,” he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours before pulling you in for another kiss. “Mmmm” you sighed, pulling away from his lips. “Never gets old.” You held his hand in yours, the two of you walking again down the beach.

“So I was thinking,” he began, “since you said you deleted all your photos, and I only have the one, maybe we could make some new photos… together,” the corner of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile. You grinned and nodded excitedly. “Please!”

Pulling out his phone, the two of you took several photos together. Some just smiling, some with Skipper, and your personal favorites, the ones with him kissing you. This will make for a perfect lockscreen, you imagined.

As you approached the edge of a rocky cliffside at the end of the beach, a sea lion barked in the distance. Skipper perked up, tilting his head and letting his ears twitch before returning a “boof.” The two of you laughed, ushering your dog away from making any wild ocean friends, and headed towards the boardwalk.

After grabbing an ice cream at a candy shop, you were so deep in conversation and laughter that you didn't notice the girl off to the side looking nervous. Slowly she walked over. Skipper put up his guard, but as she approached, she gave a kind wave. “Hi… I'm sorry to bother you. I'm a big fan of you both.”

“Us… both?!” You responded, surprised. Pedro shook his head with a laugh before thanking the fan.

“Of course! Your music is amazing! I listen to it on my way home from work everyday. I relate to so many of your songs.”

“Wow, thank you so much. I never expected to be recognized. You're so kind,” you replied honestly.

She asked for a photo with you both, and after obliging, she mentioned before leaving, “by the way, I was following all the news that went down. I just want to say I think it's cute how you guys got together and you make a really cute couple. Okay bye! Thank you again!!” And with that, she scurried away, leaving you to look at Pedro in surprise. “Wow” you replied with a laugh. “I can't believe I'm getting recognized,” you spoke quietly.

“How do you feel about it?” Pedro asked cautiously.

“I feel… okay, so far. This was a nice interaction, and even though people keep looking at us… being able to be out in public with you, to show my face, kiss you, hug you, hold your hand,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “it makes it all worth it.”

“I couldn't agree more,” he looked into your eyes, giving a soft smile. You matched his expression before his face slowly faded into concern. “Do you think work will go okay for you? Now that it's out there?”

You took a deep breath, walking a few more steps with him down the boardwalk before replying. “I don't know. I guess so. Or… I hope so at least. I've had a few of my friends and coworkers message me kind words of encouragement. So at least I'll have some people on my side, even if anyone else has something to say. But really, they shouldn't. They already know me. They knew I liked you,” you leaned into him. “So they should be happy for me if anything. And if not, then… well, they didn't deserve to be my friend anyway,” you shrugged. “But I think I might take some time off to figure out everything, career wise,” you added. Still leaning into his side, Pedro unlatched his fingers from yours, opting to reach his arm around you, giving your shoulder a squeeze and rubbing soft circles into your upper arm.

“Baby,” Pedro began, his voice vibrating through your body as he leaned his head on yours, “I’m so proud of you. Have I told you how strong I think you are?” Your cheeks warmed and you grinned. “Thank you Pedro,” you wrapped your arms around his waist to hug him. “But I don't think I'm that strong. I struggle to open pickle jars just like the rest of us,” you joked.

Pedro gave a quiet snort. “You know what I mean, honey,” he laughed. “I don't mean physical strength. Though I'm sure you could hold your own in an arm wrestle, I mean your ability to handle all of this thrown at you so quickly. Your ability to adapt and stay cheerful about everything. You just keep continuing to amaze me,” he pulled his head away from yours to meet your gaze. He smiled softly and you thanked him.

“I don't feel very strong,” you mumbled, breaking away from his stare. “You are, though. You're strong, smart, beautiful. Talented. Passionate,” he kissed your lips.

“Pedro, I love you, but you always seem to use all these words I don't feel. You see me as someone completely different than the way I've always seen myself. I want to believe you, but-” you sighed. “No one else has ever shown any indication that those are true,” you pouted, trying not to tear up.

“Hey, hey, whoa. Stop,” he halted your movements, pulling your chin up to his face. “Maybe they didn't see you, but I do. I feel all those things about you, and I'll spend every single day trying to prove it. I told myself I wouldn't get involved in romance a long time ago. But you changed all that.”

His chocolate brown eyes felt like they looked directly into your soul as he attempted to unravel your self-doubt. With a deep breath, you calmed enough to reply. “I love you, and I feel all those things for you as well. I'm glad you opened yourself up to love again.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I'm glad I met you” you sucked his lip. “I'm glad you're mine.” You kissed him again, deepening it, letting your tongue press gently to his and tangling together in passion before pulling away. 

Skipper had completely rolled into his side in wait for you both, between the conversation and the kissing. When the two of you broke away with matching grins, you looked over to see the sun had sunk down to the border between sky and ocean. In its wake was a bright orange sky, with pink, purple, and yellow streaks mixed in, as if a painter had gotten a bit too carried away with the paints. It was blindingly beautiful. 

Drawn to it like moths, the three of you walked towards the shoreline once again. You started to sit, but Pedro pulled you into his chest and fished for his phone. 

You gave him a confused look before he kissed you deeply and held out his arm. Unlatching his lips from yours with a pop, he held up his phone to you with a smile. In front of the vibrant ocean sunset, the silhouette of a couple shared a loving kiss. For once, it was you in this couple photo. You and the man you love.

You walked a little farther down the sand before sitting down just above the line of wet sand to admire the sunset. Pedro sat behind you, his legs on either side of you while you lay back into his chest. As you leaned into him, he hugged around your body, molding himself to you and tracing light circles into the skin on your arms, making the hairs stand on end and a shiver to run down your spine. 

Skipper flopped down nearby, clearly sleepy after a long walk and plenty of new smells. You ran a gentle hand down his back until you heard soft snores, then let him sleep, leaning your head on Pedro’s arm around your shoulder. “This sunset is beautiful,” you sighed, watching as the sun descended further below the ocean. It looked as if it was sinking deep below the surface, offering its light to the deep sea anglerfish miles below.

“It is amazing,” Pedro agreed, staring at you. “But my view is even better,” he added, and you could feel his eyes on the side of your face as he kissed your shoulder. You looked over at him, meeting his eyes, now sparkling with the orange of the sky. “Mine too,” you whispered, tilting your head to press another kiss to his lips.

When the sun went down completely, you headed to the car and Pedro drove back to your place so you could get ready for dinner. 

Pedro sat on the couch patiently, stroking the fur on Skip’s back while he snoozed, his head in Pedro's lap. In your bedroom, you searched for the perfect outfit to wear, finally deciding on a nice dress and sweater.

Hopefully the restaurant isn't too cold, you thought.

Walking out of the bedroom, you joined your boys in the living room, only to be greeted by Pedro’s jaw hitting the floor. “Te ves tan hermosa mi amor,” he stuttered in Spanish, flipping languages so easily when he was overcome with emotion. (You look so gorgeous my love.)

He gently stood, sliding out from below your dog, before walking over to you. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe and back up again, making you feel nervous. “You… you look… wow.” He rubbed his hand over his chin, his thumb grazing his lip. His pupils grew, making his eyes ever-so-slightly darker. You shivered under his gaze.

At your shiver, his demeanor shifted. “Shit, are you cold? Baby, you look incredible, but if you're cold -” 

“I'm not cold, Pedro,” you interrupted.

“Are you sure? I saw you shiver.” He stepped towards you, touching your arm. A buzz crept under your skin like a live wire. “It wasn't from the cold…” you replied.

“It wasn't from-?” He paused, the realization hitting him as he understood your shiver wasn't from cold but frankly.. the opposite. “Oh,” he hummed, settling his hand on your hip and stepping closer.

Another chill.

“Feeling excited for our date, huh?” His voice caressed into your ear as he kissed his way down your neck, pausing to take gentle nibbles on the skin of your collarbone, neck, and chin, before pulling you in by your waist to press a deep kiss to your mouth, his tongue finding yours. 

This was starting to feel natural, kissing. And you two were getting good at it together. Knowing just the way his tongue moved, finding just the spot to make you whine. You even managed to find a spot of him that made a groan slip from his lips nearly every time. Kissing him was addicting, and you had no intention of kicking the habit.

He pulled away, pulling your lip with his teeth as you let out a slight hiss. “I'd love to do this all night, but I promised you dinner, my love,” he kissed your cheek, his beard scratching your face just right. You sighed, agreeing to dinner and taking a minute step back. It felt much warmer in the room than before, and you could tell he felt the same. As your eyes drifted across his body, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat. Slowly sweeping his eyes down his body, it was evident you both wanted something beyond dinner.

But the gentleman he is, Pedro stepped forward again, taking your hand and leading you toward the door. 

Pulling up to the curb, Pedro opened your door for you before handing his keys to the valet. Linking his arm with yours, the two of you walked into an elegant Italian restaurant. He gave the waitress his name, and she led you back to a secluded room where a single booth sat.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated by candles and twinkling fairy lights. They lined the ceiling, mimicking the starry sky, were it not for the smog of the city. You two walked toward the only booth, settled against the nook of a window, draped with a soft, thin white curtain covering the view from outside. Only the reflection of street lights peered through the thin drapery.

Sliding into the booth, Pedro sat next to you, close enough to touch, yet due to the curve of the corner booth, you were able to converse without craning your neck awkwardly. At the center of the table was a single red rose in a vase, sat next to the glow of a candle. The table itself was rounded and draped with an elegant dark red tablecloth.

Grabbing the triangular folded napkin off your plate, you folded it across your lap, Pedro doing the same. He reached over to you, taking your hand in his. He rolled his hand over the top of yours, linking his fingers between your own and giving a gentle squeeze while offering a soft smile. 

You looked into his eyes, searching for the words he might be thinking. In his eyes you only found love and appreciation, pure happiness oozing from his features. When the waitress came back, she set a basket of bread with butter on the table and took your orders. 

The night went smoothly, chatter filling the empty spaces while you enjoyed your meals. “Pedro, I know this is technically our first date, but I gotta say, I think I consider our video chat for my album as the first date. It was the first time I felt like I might actually have a shot with you. You put so much effort into that night and it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I didn't know I could fall for you any harder than I was, but you proved me wrong. And even though we didn't say it was a date, and I didn't have much experience before you, it felt more like a date than anything I had ever felt before. You're a real romantic, P.” 

He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “That felt like the first date to me too. I knew for sure that I loved you that night.” Your cheeks heated, and you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

It was only when the bill arrived that you broke apart. Though you offered to pay, at least for your meal, Pedro wouldn't stand for that. After all, he told you, this date was his idea. So instead, you thanked him and left the restaurant the same way you entered, arms linked.

As Pedro pulled up outside of your home, you let out a sigh. It was already after 9 PM. You had spent nearly eight hours together and yet you dreaded the moment you'd be saying goodbye. It was almost that time already, yet it felt like only five minutes had passed.

Though the walk from Pedro’s car to your front door was rather short, you both managed to prolong it, walking as slow as possible. Clearly he wasn't ready for it to end either. Two love sick fools, just wanting to spend every moment together.

Teetering on the edge of goodbyes, you awkwardly stood by your door. There were no nerves at a first kiss, fortunately. There had been plenty of kisses shared today, and yesterday, and the day prior. In fact, if it weren't for breathing, eating, and other bodily functions, you'd be fine having your lips glued to his indefinitely.

So with that in mind, and the burning desire to spend more time together, as he said goodbye, placing a kiss to your lips and beginning to walk away, you grabbed his arm. “Wait,” you plead.

Pedro turned, looking at you as if you had something to say, or you had forgotten a sweater in the car. But instead, with your heart pounding in your ears, you quietly asked, “would you like to come in? I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.”

The question could be taken with so many potential implications, or none at all. All you knew for sure was that you wanted to spend more time with him. What happened next could be decided in the moment.

His eyes flashed surprise for a moment. He looked at you, trying to read your face for any details in your question, then stared at your front door before turning back to you and finally answering.

“I would love to,” he smiled.

And so the two of you walked through the threshold of your front door, buzzing with new possibilities just inside. But no matter how the rest of the evening takes place, you were in love, and for once, you were loved back.

The end! Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the bonus tracks, and once again I'd love to hear what you think! Reblogs are appreciated as well :)

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibleywrites @faithfullyyours2000 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors @emmalostinwonderland

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal rpf #rpf #key to your heart #pedro pascal smut

[fansplaining]

Do you have any advice, guides, or opinions on how write a good rec list?

WELL! This is Elizabeth, and as the longtime co-curator of "The Rec Center" newsletter (with @hellotailor) I do have *a lot* of thoughts about rec lists. 😊 I'm delighted you asked, because as I'm sure both Flourish & I have mentioned on the podcast, rec-list-making is way less prominent now than it has been in previous fandom eras, and I think that's a shame. Reccing can be a great critical tool, and rec lists make a fanwork space richer—not least because they can move readers beyond the mostly quantitative metrics of the AO3.

I'll put the rest of this under the cut:

So obviously there are different kinds of rec lists, including by category/trope, favorites about a character or a ship or fandom, etc. To me, a true ~authored~ rec list is one in which the writer(s) deliberately put together a batch of fics to make some kind of argument about the works/the ship/the fandom/the source material.

Most of the lists we run in the newsletter are not like this, because we're pulling 5-7 works from our guest submissions bank—and since we don't (realistically, can't!) read the stories that are sent in, I have no idea if those 5-7 compliment each other in any real way. (When I put together one of these lists, I aim for balance: not all M/M, not all white characters, not all Western source material, etc.) (Yes, unsurprisingly, those are overrepresented in our submissions bank.)

But an authored rec list treats the rec list itself like a fanwork: you can tap into connective tissue that runs throughout the fics you choose, and you can put stories side-by-side that illuminate something when read together. You can approach this from two different directions: working from a broader pool of fics you like and pulling out a coherent batch, or starting with a theme, an argument, that connective tissue, and seeing what fits.

When I first got into my current fandom, I kept a google doc with fic titles, links, brief descriptors, and general thematic vibes etc., for future reccing use. (Obviously you can do this with AO3 bookmarks, but I use those differently, so this was a separate endeavor.) These were set up to transfer to "The Rec Center" easily, e.g.:

“Celestial Navigation” by kaydeefalls. 9K words, rated Teen. Canon-era: C & E go to NYC to try to recruit several mutants. Delicate balance sort of story with a soft revelation. No tropes.

When I actually go to rec something, I reread it—mostly because I want to get the content warnings right, but also because reading it to rec is more like reading for work: you wind up looking at the text with a different eye, always lowkey thinking about how you'll make your argument about it in writing. I haven't actually recced the fic above in the newsletter, but here's another X-Men fic I did rec at one point:

“Come Together” verse by blarfkey. 60K words across 4 stories, rated Teen.  Backstory: When Peter gets arrested for breaking Erik out of the Pentagon, Erik returns the favor and breaks Peter out in turn—and takes him to live with Charles. Beautifully awkward father-son bonding coupled with bitter, stubborn exes pining: *chef’s kiss*. The verse spans five years, with really believable character growth, which is really saying something, based on the emotionally-stunted starting point for all parties involved. Rec: Peter is the POV character here, so a+++, and the close third-person narration plays with the spaces between what he feels and what he says while capturing his voice beautifully. This means 50% dragging people and 50% feeling like an idiot, which is a total joy. A lot of X-Men stuff, canonically or...fanonically...sorry...is about found family, and I mean, this one is about finding your literal blood relations, but it’s also about building a true family, and I think the author gives that enough space to really sell it.  Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, torture, ableism, the unenlightened thoughts about women’s bodies that preoccupy heterosexual teenage boys 

That rec is from a whole list I did with @morgan-leigh a few (five???wtf lol) years ago, which I think is a good example of an authored rec list: Morgan and I had overlapping tastes and similar interpretations of the characters, so all the fics here feel like they're talking to each other in some way, and making an argument about who these characters are (in Morgan's beautiful words, many of these stories "capture the exquisite and venal dickishness of both our heroes" lol).

Obviously rec lists don't have to be super formal—we created this reccing format a long time ago to keep things standardized—and I certainly don't think recs need to sound like literary criticism (not that the examples above sound like literary criticism lol...you know what I mean). Some of my favorite rec lists are pure vibes and (performatively? in a good way) emotional, and that's great. If you're a fic author, you know what a delight those comments are to receive. And like someone's AO3 bookmarks, the all-vibes rec list is an opportunity to see if you, too, feel like the selected fics smack you in the face or whatever violent expression of appreciation people are using. They often don't give you a ton of information, but if you and the reccer have similar taste, you know you can trust their picks.

But! I would make the case for reccing as a chance to talk about fic in a way that you really wouldn't in a comment to the author or in a performatively emotional tag: critically, not in the "this is bad" definition of "criticism," but, like, in the lit-crit way. Why does this work—and how does it work? As with all literary criticism, "work" is totally contextual; a good rec list sets up that context, and gives you just enough information to want to click through and see for yourself.

All that being said, you don't need to overthink it—and I say this partly because I'd really love to see more rec lists floating around! The AO3 often primes people to sort in a top-down way, and though there are tons of great fics with lots of kudos, as the meme goes,

Rec lists let you include things that aren't super popular, that hit niche characterization or plot notes, that really worked for you specifically for whatever reason. They're pure human curation—not just recs, but an arrangement of those recs that creates a whole new work in the process. And that's something I really love about fandom! We don't want algorithmic 'if this, then that' for-you pages; we're interested in doing the actual work of reading, thinking about, and sharing what we like with others, and that's wonderful.

#asks #fanfiction #reccing #rec lists #the rec center

[snek-panini]

It's been a few weeks since I had new books to share, but I finally got photos taken of the newest ones so today's the day. Here, have a book:

This is Across Tides and Currents, a Good Omens siren AU by Sodium_Azide and @doorwaytoparadise (hi. I hope I tagged you right). My favorite thing about this AU is that, at its heart, it's about learning to communicate with someone who is so different from you that you can't even physically speak each other's language, and yet you've still got so much common ground that you find a way. It's way lighter and more fun than that description makes it sound, though, so go read it if that's your thing.

The cover on this is Lineco book cloth, scrapbook paper printed to look like leather, and blue foil htv. The foil was actually a nightmare to do. The first time I applied it, it wouldn't stick no matter what I did, and the bits that did stick peeled off as soon as I touched them. I had to peel them up very carefully, cut a new image, and try again. Thankfully it worked the second time but I don't know that I'll be using the foil type again unless there's no other way to get the color I want. The non-foil metallic was so much easier to work with.

More book photos under the cut!

I went with a coptic bind for this one for a few reasons. The first was that I wanted to try one on a quarto-size book to see if I could. I also wanted to try the mitered corners thing I did when I bound Strange Moons, and see if I could have the same effect on the interior. (That bit didn't work out so well; the front is fine but I mismeasured the inside and the lines didn't match up, so I trimmed some pieces of cardstock to cover that up. I really like the layered look though, so that's fine. It's quirky.) The third reason is that not long before I decided to bind this one, the authors published a new chapter after two years of no updates. That's the best possible reason to have to change plans, and the glueless bind means that if they ever do that again I can just redo the stitching to add more pages. Win-win.

Getting whimsical with title pages here. This took way longer than I thought it would, probably because I don't like graphic design and I did it in Word where I do the rest of my typesetting. Usually what I do is grab an image and put text around it or on top of it and then just play with fonts and sizes, but this time I drew the lines and then made the text follow them. This is the first time I've used the word art feature since...probably 2009? I'd forgotten how. I have no doubt there are better ways to do this but if I'd had to learn a new program at that point I'd have quit. And I do think it was worth it--it's cute and fun and looks about how I imagined it.

Couple of photos of the inside. Sorry the first one's blurry, I had someone trying to get my attention when I took these. The section break image came from rawpixel, I just made it gray instead of black so it's more subtle. The fic has very nice illustrations that I specifically got the artist's permission to print and then I failed to get any photos of them when I did my little photo shoot. They look very nice, though. I swear.

The last image is something I've started including in my latest books. I'm calling them "A Note from the Bookbinder" and it's basically just me talking about why I chose that story, the experience of reading it for the first time, stuff that's going on in the fandom, stuff about the process like the new chapter coming out as I was preparing to print. It's kind of...like marginalia? Part of fanbinding is preservation and that's linked to archival work, and something I know archivists love is marginalia and diaries. I don't like writing in my books and I've never found any fun in journaling, but sometimes that kind of context is important so I'm trying to add it. Someday, decades from now, I may not remember all the details, so I'm trying to preserve them. IDK, this got philosophical on me. Go read about mermaids now. Promise it's a good time.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #fic rec #i wanted to do this as a mermay project #that did not happen #i finished it in october #happy mertober

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Chpt. 9

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Angst, possessive behavior, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, cheating, explicit language, toxic dom/sub relationship, more arguments

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

A/N 2: Aaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm back! I'm feeling way better and I'm merging towards my social life as well. I did a litte editing and changing on part 8 where they argued. But it doesn't affect the plot. Feel free to check it out :3 Two more chapters and WT will be completed (I hope I'll get it done by December based on my current speed lmao)

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

From [email protected]

Dear all,

I hope this reaches you well. This email is to remind those of you who have yet to submit your form for assigning a supervisor…

You have been looking at this email for quite some time. Opening the link at the bottom of this email too. But you haven’t made a move yet.

You have thought about having Andy as your supervisor, but that idea sounded like a lifetime ago. And now, there’s no way you’d let Andy be your supervisor.

How are you going to face him? This is more than just some misunderstanding from last semester. This is you two breaking up. Broken up. Whatever.

You are not making him your supervisor.

Taking a deep breath, you text a reply to the message your barely-friend Fiona sent you half an hour ago.

Fiona: Are you going to choose Barber as your supervisor?

You: No. Klein.

A few more messages come from Fiona after you send it. But you ignore them, knowing that she’d be asking dumb questions.

No, probing questions like “what are you going to write for your dissertation” or “should I include my pilot study into my dissertation” or other things that she wants to make an impression in front of her supervisor without “borrowing” from your answers first.

Bitch.

You feel like screaming. Which you did, after punching your mattress and burying your head into the pillow. Only lifting your head when you are completely out of breath.

With everything that happened with Andy, Laurie, Fiona and your schoolwork, it feels like nothing could alleviate you from the endless mess of self-doubt and self-hatred. Hating others as well. Hating your friend choices. Hating your boyfriend choices. Hating your school which led you to him. Hating everyone and every being on this very planet.

Hating yourself.

“Fucking hell.” You mumble to yourself. Pulling your laptop close to fill in the form for dissertation supervisors.

Typing word for word of your dissertation title, and selecting “Joanna Klein” as your preferred supervisor.

I hate my life. The idea keeps floating in your head like the obnoxious bubbles in a soda can, spritzing tiny drops of irritating reality into your face.

Andy has just received the email from Joanna Klein to all available lecturers and professors about supervising students in their dissertations.

He found the familiar name – your name – in a heartbeat. Merely sticking out his lips and making what Laurie would call “a bitch face”, as he found your name under the list of students under the supervision of Joanna Klein.

The pure imagination of pulling the strings behind your dissertation, of having a say in what you could not refuse, seeing you writhing under his grasp, gets his blood pumping in his veins.

He’s probably sick to the bones. One brief moment of clarity tells him so. To get high just to watch you struggling in his control. The adrenaline rush of knowing you are helpless, having no one to turn to but him.

He probably needs help.

But who needs help, when you, the most direct and sufficing way of satisfying his hunger, practically serve your weakness on a silver platter?

Andy pulls his chair closer to the desk, makes up his mind, and starts typing on the keyboard.

He is doing what’s best for you.

You might not see it that way for now but…

You’ll understand, eventually.

Andy sits in his office. Waiting. Patiently. Tapping his fingers on the table surface, as he looks out of the window.

It has only been a while, since you last came to his office to deliver his suit and your breakup.

However, things turned rather quickly, as there was no room for argument as the final version of the list containing supervisor and their students to tutor through the dissertation was settled as the last nail in the coffin.

Five students, students that he is going to supervise, are about to enter that door. And one of them being you.

He grins, thinking of the fact that you are tied to him for the rest of the term time.

No use running. He rolls your name on his tongue silently. He’s far beyond any help could ever achieve in pulling him back. He wants you, one way or another.

He’d keep you, treat you like the precious thing he adores, if you behave.

If you do not… well, there are more than a few ways that he can think of to devour you.

He’d keep you, one way or another.

Five students, including you, walked through that door, sitting on the chairs that he prepared. You picked the seat furthest from him, in a small corner. Didn’t make eye contact. No friendly “hello”. No nothing.

He doesn’t mind.

He knows that you are still mad about your little dispute.

He will tolerate it, knowing that you still love him.

He will explain, tell you that he will fight tooth and nail for you. Tell you that you could start over. He was being unreasonable. He was frustrated and angry, and he lashed out on you, that he was sorry about it all.

Later. He will explain later.

Andy clears his throat, folding his hands on his stomach, “Today we’ll start by having a brief introduction of yourselves. You obviously know me, since I’ve taught you all, but I would still like it if you could introduce yourself to each other. You can tell us about your name, something about yourself, and also tell us about what you are planning to write for your dissertation…”

He pays no special attention to you. He comments, nods, and gives useful suggestions based on everyone’s self-introduction.

“I understand I’m asking for a lot of work in a short amount of time. However, I would expect you to produce a general frame of your dissertation by the next meeting, which is two weeks from now. In the framework, you’ll be talking about how you want to approach your topic-” He stops Fiona from scribbling on her notebook, but ignores you who are doing the same. What can he say, he favors you in the smallest of details, “I’ll send you all an email after this meeting for the framework you’ll be writing about. The topic, the details you are going to investigate, the methodology – I’m sure Professor Rifkin has explained this in her class, and also, keep an open mind when you are writing the dissertation, especially for those who are employing a qualitative method to analyze their data. Any questions?”

You are the first to rush out of his office after he declares that today’s session has come to an end.

He waits until the last student has left the floor before heading out.

The entire floor is quiet. Dead. Deserted.

His shoes barely make a sound on the soft carpet as he steps out of his office, finding you on the floor, sitting on the carpet. You have opened your laptop, but it seems blank.

You gain your consciousness when he approaches, looking up at him. A sigh leaving your lips before you speak, “You did this.”

Not a question, but a firm sentence.

You know he was behind this transfer of dissertation supervisors.

Andy neither confirms nor denies. He cocks his head slightly, looking at your tired expression, “You will need to work on your methodology. Your arguments wouldn’t be convincing if you only state the method for your dissertation.”

“Can’t we be those ex-es like friends? Stop torturing each other over the fact that we broke up? Can you just leave me alone?” You take a deep breath, saying the words that you know he will be disapproving of.

He takes a seat on the couch in the open space, about three feet from where you are sitting, but he doesn’t have to put extra pressure on his neck looking at you from above.

Andy interlaces his fingers into a fist, his thumbs tapping each other.

To tell the truth, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let go of you. Couldn’t watch you go away.

“Look-” Seeing him unresponsive to your plead, you change your tactics, switching into defiance, “If you want to be a bitch about our relationship, I will have to put in a request to the faculty about changing my supervisor.”

Andy lets out a cold, hard laugh. Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Andy “kindly” tells you about the regulation that runs around the place: “Nice try getting rid of me, sweetheart. But even if you do, and that’s a big ‘if’, you would still have to write your dissertation, and during scoring, your dissertation would be assigned to lecturers based on your topic. And I know all your topics, sweetheart.”

Your lips visibly tremble in fear, so are your arms, “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” His tone turns sharp, “I can put an A into your months of work, or an F. Your choice.”

“Yeah? And what should I do for an A?” You shut your laptop with a loud snap, jumping from the spot on the floor to your feet. Clenching your teeth and hissing like venom burns your mouth, you challenge him even further, “Suck your dick, Professor Barber?”

“Be nice, sweetheart. I’m trying to be a friend.” Andy narrows his eyes, the threat in his tone is evident, “First of, I suggest you to be respectful when talking to me.”

You glare at him with fire burning in your eyes.

“I'm not a monster, sweetheart. But if you poke me like that, I don't mind putting a little discipline inside that pretty little brain of yours. Try to stay on my good side, yeah?” Andy stands to his full height, buttoning his suit jacket as he stands up, casually tugging the hem of his shirt and his tie. After tiding himself up, Andy lifts his hand to caress your jaw.

You jerk your head on instinct but his fingers dig into your neck, reminding you, painfully, of the night that he went overboard and fucked your throat.

His grip softens when he feels you freeze on spot. Tracing his thumb on your jawline, he murmurs, “Remember, sweetheart? I'm your Dom. I tell you something, and you do it.”

“You're not my fucking Dom.” You grit out.

“Still bratty, I see. You're a handful but I doubt there's anything that can't be solved by some punishments.”

His thumb forces you to lift your chin, even so, you refuse to look at him.

It takes you a few seconds to regain your voice, “You can't expect me to whore out myself.”

If that’s what he’s asking.

Andy presses a small kiss to your temple, whispering by your ear, “I don't really mind, sweetheart, as long as it is you.”

Some sense finally comes to you, your body shakes like a leaf in both fear and fury, you try to sound tough, but it comes out no better than a whimper, “I could report you to the board of malpractice.”

“And I have a lawyer friend, honey. He's the best in town. God knows how long a lawsuit can take. 18 months? 24?”

“Honey” was usually meant for Laurie, but he is beyond caring which endearment belongs to whom at this point.

“You're ... evil.” You want to move, but you cannot, not when he’s still having an iron grip over your neck.

“Maybe.” Andy shrugs, letting go of your neck, “Now run along before I do something evil, like fucking you over my desk.”

You pack your things as fast as you can, leaving the place without another word.

The rest of the term time passed in a blur. He attends your graduation ceremony with a heart-felt smile, knowing well that he black-mailed you into accepting his supervision and that you have an impeccable dissertation as he almost looked through every word of it, which probably violated ten faculty rules, if not twenty.

He is still clapping when you receive the graduation certificate from Joanna Klein, while he stands on the side. The next thing he knows, you are rushing towards him with a knife in your hand, carving his chest almost in half and he dies before the ambulance can reach the hospital.

His soul floats in mid-air as he watches everything pans out.

Laurie takes over everything, every property in their marriage.

You are charged with murder, serving your life-sentence in a max-security prison.

And Laurie… Laurie divorced him and marries the man she was having an affair with, decorating Andy’s house into a shit-yellow color, laughing and doesn’t have to worry about the rest of her life since she has all the money, cars, and houses that she could get their hands on…

Andy wakes up screaming.

Panting.

Taking a few seconds to realize that he is not in a ghost state and that he is still alive.

Alive. Awake. In his home. In the middle of the night.

Everything in the dream felt so real. Like it actually happened.

Andy touches his chest, where the skin and flesh are intact.

He is still alive.

He sweated through his sheet.

Another few seconds pass and he stays up, hands over his face, recalling the horrible dream.

The absolute nightmare where he told Joanna to switch you to his-

Shit.

He pulls himself over the bed and snatches his phone from the nightstand, checking his email.

The sudden blue light from his phone has him cursing. After flipping over his inbox and finding that he received the email of supervising students yesterday, but hasn’t made a move yet, he lets out an exhale of relief.

He groans and lies back to the bed. His heart still pounding frantically.

A string of curses flies out of his mouth.

Rest assured that he is not going to pull a favor and get you assigned to him.

But he wants you so bad.

How can he live when he wants you so bad and he pissed you off by saying the most harmful things that could be ever said to you?

Tag List: @geminiflanagansblog @wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers @nouk1998 @sarahdonald87 @charmed-asylum

#andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #defending jacob #professor andy barber #student reader #dancing in the daydream #wishful thinking #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Aaron Fanfiction Analysis [an essay]

Photo credits: Left (Google) Center (@themoontaxi) Right (@citronplume)

A/N: I don’t know how many of you followed my page to read some academic work, but here we are, and I’d love it if you stick around to give this a read if you are so inclined. I recently read Rome’s @criminalskies story about a BAU reader who is feeling dysphoric due to being on their period during a long case. Aaron provides them comfort, and they come out to him. The link to that story can be found here (link). While I was reading it, I was so enamored that I started taking notes. If I like something, I take notes. After finishing it, I simply had to think about the literary devices being used, and this essay was born. I asked Rome if they were okay with this, and they agreed (thank you!). Then I finished the essay, and I asked if I could share it here too. Again, Rome agreed. Obviously, after Roland Barthes and The Death of the Author and all that. We understand that reading is subjective. This is just my little take on their story. Everyone reads and understands things differently. I thought I’d just share my thoughts with you. If nothing else, please check out Rome’s page and this story. They are a joy to know and be friends with. I'm currently working on an Emily fic and and an Aaron fic, so those will be out soon too. I hope you all have a lovely end of your weekend, and I’ll see you soon  - Levi. 

You can read the essay below the cut

Word Count: 3.1K 

Content Warnings: Dysphoria and body image issues

List with all stories

P.S. I did the ungodly thing, and I printed this fanfiction on paper for the sake of annotations and in-text citations. 

Fanfiction is a Gift 

When someone who is not very familiar with the concept of fanfiction hears the term fanfiction brought up in conversation,  there is a knee-jerk reaction to assume that this type of writing is not very good writing and that those writing it are teenagers. Both of those things may be true of some fanfiction writers. However, to address the quality of writing, if something is being written, no matter what skill level it is at, that is practice. Practice makes us better writers of all of us. So there will be no complaint about quality from me on that count. But there are other types of fanfiction writers as well. There are adults who consume content and adore it so much that they want to add their voice to the narrative. They bring themselves open and willingly to the space. They share their stories with others to read and enjoy. Often, these writers are more inclusive than the content of the original material. After all, books, T.V. shows, movies, and all other entertainment media are made by the studios for one purpose -- money. The top executives of networks and streaming services are happy to discontinue a beloved show if it is not making a profit. Now some shows are disappearing entirely for tax write-off purposes. The mainstream shows that stay ongoing for years must appeal to the everyman. This often means inclusivity is not a top goal of the creators. This leaves many marginalized groups out. These often include LGBTQIA+, minorities, those who are disabled, and those with non-thin body types. It might come as a surprise to David Saslav or Sam Levinson, but not everybody looks like the characters on their platforms and shows. There has been a push for media to be more inclusive, and we see this in shows like Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, and What We Do In The Shadows, but the number of these shows pales in comparison to the mainstream media. Serial shows like Criminal Minds is one of those shows. The F.B.I. drama hosts a cast that is not very diverse, and topics of sexuality, racism, police brutality, and other pressing issues are addressed only briefly during the show’s sixteen-season run. This is where fanfiction writers bridge the gap. Writers allow themselves and others to be included in that world, with those characters. This writing is cathartic to many. It is healing what the mainstream refused to address. This is why fanfiction is a gift. To highlight how strong some fanfiction writers are, and the power they have over language, a literary analysis will be done on a recent story published on Tumblr. The author, Rome, was completing a request for a story involving the BAU team leader, Aaron Hotchner, and a non-binary member of the team who is feeling dysphoric during their period. Rome responded to that request with a masterpiece. The untitled story uses diction and tone to demonstrate how the reader feels embarrassed and frustrated by the situation they are placed in, pacing and juxtaposition are employed to highlight how time in the show and on a personal level seem to warp and change given the circumstances, lastly, characterization is used for the reader and Aaron to display how their dynamic changes by the end of the story. 

The story starts in medias res, with the team attempting to solve a slew of murders in Louisiana. The team is stumped and tired. An argument breaks out between the reader and Dr. Reid. Here a variety of loaded words are brought up, including, “irritable,” “overdrive,” “annoyingly,” “hope,” and “exhausted” (Rome, 1). The use of these emotions sets the tone early on for the piece. This is not a fun or happy situation. The argument that takes place in the precinct highlights this, as the reader says, “‘Reid. Correct me based off something you read in the textbook I wrote one more goddamn time and I will see how far that giant brain of yours really is from your skull.’” (Rome, 2). The violent nature of the statement and the use of an expletive evince the tension in the room. Derek Morgan’s attempt to comfort adds no help, as he calls the reader “Mama” twice (Rome, 2). Morgan’s use of gendered terms only makes the reader more angry as they identify as non-binary but has not told the team yet. It is only Aaron who helps them calm down and moves them out of the room. The tone shifts from one of anger from the reader to concern from Aaron. As it turns out, not only is the reader exhausted, but has also started their period; thus the excess of emotions. Embarrassed, they move to the restroom and begin sobbing in pain from the cramps and identity crisis. Aaron moves into the space and immediately he becomes concerned as he hears his, seasoned, agent crying out in pain. He enters the bathroom stall and attempts to understand what’s happened. As he asks questions, the reader notes that his tone is “delicate” and “so laced with concern” (Rome, 7). Aaron embraces the reader to offer physical comfort in a situation that is clearly distressing to both of them. After a few moments, Aaron notices that the reader is holding the crumpled plastic of a pad. The realization hits him and “the penny finally drops, and he can understand why you were so volatile earlier” (Rome, 8). He still does not understand why the reader is so upset but true to his character on the show, he does not try and guess at an answer. He is compassionate at this moment. There is another tonal shift from care and concern to humor as the story lightens its tone. 

The reader has asked Aaron to go back to the hotel, and he readily agrees. The reader asks Aaron, who is driving,  to stop at a convenience store to get some needed supplies for their menstruation. They arrive at a store and the reader attempts to go in themself, but Aaron has none of it. He is told what the reader needs and moves into the store himself. While Aaron is very good at meeting the needs of the team, when he is faced with the choice of period products, he is suddenly at a loss. His experiences with his ex-wife does not help him much, and seeing him flustered like this brings a lightness to the story. As he faces down the tampons, he speaks aloud, “‘Light, ultra light, regular, overnight, sport, active, everyday, heavy, ultra max… shit’” (Rome, 12). Without wanting to disturb the reader, he gets one of every kind along with some comfort snacks. When the manly cashier makes a comment about women and “‘shark week’” Aaron responds, “Funny, sharks rather like eating invertebrates,” as he walks out the door (Rome, 14). There is one last major shift from humor to an understanding of passion and joy. The start of this shift is when, at the hotel, Aaron attempts a joke, saying, “‘I feel like it might be a human rights violation to deny a menstruating woman her sleep’” (Rome, 16). The use of gendered language, especially from Aaron, makes the reader uncomfortable in their body again. Aaron notices the shift and checks in to see if the reader is okay. He ends up joining them in their room. After the reader is changed, he perceptively states, “‘I can tell one moment you’re completely fine and the next it’s like you’re forty feet from your own body” (Rome, 19). By saying this, the reader reveals how they have been feeling over the past few months. That they feel their body and gender are not aligned. They note that they had hesitated to say anything for fear of being viewed differently and making work for Aaron. Aaron could care less. He is overjoyed that the reader is revealing their true self to him. Aaron states, “I am so, so happy, that I’m someone you’re comfortable to talk about this with’” (Rome, 21). The conversation continues for a while longer and there is an understanding between Aaron and the reader and real delight from Aaron in being pulled into the loop. The story finishes with a moment of intimacy and self-reflection from Aaron as he holds the reader tight to his body. 

Criminal Minds normally follows a villain, or Unknown Subject [heretofore unsub] of the week. This provides a steady narrative arc for each of the episodes: a case is announced, the team debriefs, arrives at the location of the crimes, the team creates a profile, the team investigates, another murder or crime happens, the profile changes, the climax, and then the resolution, and closing monolog, as the team returns home on the jet. This structure is endemic in most police procedural shows and it provides a consistency to the narrative. Rome’s use of pacing is more dynamic and more personal. There is clearly a timeline for the team. They need to solve these cases as quickly as possible so less people die. There is an urgency in that. It pushes the team to the height of their emotions. This is mentioned early in the story as the case “stretched on for five days” with no leads (Rome, 1). In fact, time is often mentioned either in minutes or hours. As the fight breaks out between the reader and Derek the time is “1:15 in the morning.” This is one possible justification for the reader's outburst, but not the real one. Pace is brought up again as Aaron tries to understand what has happened. The reader realizes that their period coming has made them more emotional and they attempt to soothe Aaron. They realize, “[they’ve] gone from screaming to crying to comforting him in all under four minutes” (Rome, 3). The juxtaposition of emotions in such a short time frame has the audience focus on time. On the awkward encounter that has just happened. Pacing is also used to demonstrate Aaron’s care and devotion (even if he isn’t willing to admit to it) to the reader. As he kneels in a puddle on the bathroom floor, holding the reader, we are told, “He’s desperate to know what’s happened with you, but he will kneel here until his knees lock if it means you’ll tell him when you’re comfortable’” (Rome, 8). Aaron is such a stoic character and to see him acting so tenderly, going as far as getting his expensive suit dirty, and his willingness to be in pain shows the audience how much he cares about the reader. The fact that he is willing to be in pain, while the reader is in agony demonstrates his commitment to them. Aaron is one of the oldest members of the team, thus, his kneeling on, cold, hard, tile is not great for his joints. The lowered body position does end up affecting him when he does get up, we are told he  “[lets] out a tiny groan as he stands up” (Rome, 9). The fact that they are both in pain ties the two together in an unspoken way. Aaron both in voice and action going forward, reassures the reader that he is thinking of them. Trying to get them to the hotel and comfort as quickly as possible. He makes statements like, “I won’t be a moment” to let the reader know he is cognizant of time and their discomfort. He drives efficiently, walks with determination, and does his best to be quick at finding the right tampon for the reader. The pacing takes a final turn as they enter the hotel. The times of events have slowly been shortening. These time frames move from days at the beginning of the narrative, to the possibility of hours on bent knees at the middle, and close with small moments. The reader tells Aaron, “Just one second,” as they prepare to change (Rome, 19). When the reader's real identity is revealed to Aaron, in an instant, moves, “[a] large pair of hands flys across the space between you on the bed” (Rome, 20). At the end, in their moment of intimacy, Aaron reflects on his admiration, and love, as the reader takes “short breaths” on his upper arm (Rome,  22). The juxtaposition of these time frames and pacing paired with the emotions of anger, then humor, and finally love leaves the audience feeling comfort and peace with Aaron. 

The main crux of this story is the fact that the reader is feeling heightened dysphoria due to their period and hiding this fact about them from the team and more importantly, from Aaron. Thus the characterization of both the reader and Aaron changes and develops a good deal over the twenty-two pages of text. The reader starts out unsure of why they are so angry. Why has this case been so trying on them that night? The reader is at this point unaware of the unwanted, excruciating bleeding that will start soon. The reader is observed with “eyes welling up seemingly out of nowhere as you note that you are definitely not okay, You just don’t know why” (Rome, 3). Once they are aware of their period coming, the reader is not comforted by the fact. The bodily bloodshed only emphasizes that they do not belong in the body they inhabit. The reader notes, 

The anticipation, your monthly [a] reminder of who you are forced to be, looming right in front of you. When you can feel your grasp on emotions slip just a little bit and those little voices in your head gain a little too much power. The thoughts of how your body doesn’t look anything close to who you feel you are. Rome 5

These painful external reminds pushes the reader to do things they don’t enjoy. To try and conform to some gender norm that does not align with them. The reader has gone as far as wearing makeup to appear more feminine, but all that accomplished was to make them feel like they were “playing a part… wearing a mask,” and “keeping up a facade with the team” (Rome 6). This discomfort continues but is slightly alleviated when Aaron comes to understand that they are on their period, and he reacts with care and compassion instead of a reprimand. At the hotel, the reader is upset again by Aaron's unintentional gendered words. In the bathroom of their hotel room. The shape and feel of their body bothers them, as they look in the mirror and think, “how miserable the stranger in the mirror looks” (Rome, 17). Not even putting on more comfortable clothes is helping, as their thighs appear more womanly in the stretchy fabric. It is not until the revelation is made that the reader’s gender identity lies between the male-female binary, that they fully relax. When they notice the “genuine joy radiating from Aaron,” they know they can fully be themself around him (Rome, 18). And still, the pain persists, but in Aaron’s gentle embrace, they can finally rest. Aaron goes through a similar character transformation. Even at the beginning of the story, it is never stated that he is mad at the reader. He is just very concerned. He is as baffled as the reader as to why they are acting as they are. His thoughts mimic the readers as he thinks, “You're clearly very volatile and on edge. He just can’t figure out why?” (Rome, 3). The parallel in emotions is a foreshadowing of the feelings that Aaron will have at the end of the text. The sound of the reader crying intensifies those latent emotions. As Aaron holds the reader close to him for the first time that night, he thinks that “he couldn’t care less about the surroundings, his hand finding the back of your head to hold you close to his aching heart” (Rome, 4). He continues to be concerned and his emotions are pulled, as he only wants to bring the reader some relief. He is eager to help monetarily by buying an array of period products and painkillers. This is a help, but Aaron wants to physically comfort his agent. His distress over the reader even finds voice in anger, as he insults a burly man unwilling to interact with his partner during her time of the month. At the hotel, there is more comfort for the reader, but he can still see pain in them. This pain is less associated with their period. When he asks for clarity for his own sake, he grows nervous: “He silently prays you aren’t about to begin an interrogation” (Rome, 18).

When all is finally made known, he is ecstatic. As the reader states that they fear their new identity might be a burden to him and the team, he is quick to say, “I want to make you feel as comfortable as I am able to accommodate” (Rome, 18). And in the end, Aaron is able to provide that physical comfort again as he acts as a living heating pad. He envelopes the reader in his body, his warmth. And as he begins to drift off to sleep, he questions his emotions once more, asking the rhetorical question, “Right?” as he sleeps (Rome, 22). Aaron’s character arc is centered around his care of the reader and his feelings for them. There is no dramatic “I love you” but the outpouring of small gestures and care given by Aaron to the reader clearly displays his love of them in all their complexity. 

There are so many other literary devices that are used here such as simile, personification, descriptive language, and imagery. However, the elements examined here felt the most weighty. Held the attention longer. When reading and rereading this work, many times I thought, “God, I wish I was the reader!” And here is the great delight in fanfiction -- you are the reader! Inclusive fanfiction belongs to everyone who wants to be involved. Not all fanfiction attempts this. Not all fanfiction is a reader insert or “x reader” as it is often seen on Tumblr, but to live in a time where such care is given to those often standing on the outside is amazing. It is kindness and care just like Aaron comforting and accepting the reader is kindness and care. I do not mean to say that all media, be it books, movies, or TV shows is not inclusive. Some of it is, and I’m glad for that, but much of the time diversity is added as a bonus, so the creators can pat themselves on the back and say, “We’ve got that group covered at least.” I will continue to give praise to those who give so much of themselves for everyone else. Fanfiction really is a beautiful thing.

#criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #fanfiction #reader insert #aaron hotcher #hotch #literary analysis #fanfic analysis #i love fanfiction #academic writing #me actaully using my degree #aesthetic #dark academia #writing #writing process #gender neutral reader #fanfic #cm fanfiction #it's giving freshman comp #i love Rome #writing is cool

[eruherdiriel]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @cellsshapedlikestars. Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

5.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

40,689.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

ASoIaF/GoT, mostly Jonsa.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well, lucky me, I have 5, so you get to see them all:

In the blood (the first thing I published, and it predates everything else by about 6 months so it makes sense)

Your crimson hands all over me

My eyes were wide open

The poor thing in the road, its eyes still glistening

Darlings (my ficlet collection)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. I like the interaction, and I like acknowledging I saw people's comments.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

None of them really end with angst. I have an upublished WIP that would end in angst but IDK if I will finish it. Angstiest overall is probably "The poor thing."

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Uh, they all end on a positive note if not outwardly happy. The most lighthearted overall is my "Pumpkin" ficlet.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not much actually, and I've been theorizing about why while also being grateful for it. The rudest thing someone has said actually didn't bother me that much, and I had (I thought) a solid response to it. Shout out to the commenter who replied to that thread and agreed with me. You're a real one, whoever you are 😅.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Only pretty mild stuff. x

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Hopefully not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Jonsa ...

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

So far, I've only published when I was 98% sure I was done with a piece, and I'll probably stick with that because it suits the way I write (out of order, feeling my way around in the dark, general chaos lol). But I have LOTS of unpublished WIPs, including multichapters. I am trying to believe I will finish the one that I am currently trying to make progress on 🫠, but how much I believe it depends on my mood.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Ummm rhythm of the text? I just made that up.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I rarely outline. I actually like the feeling of uncovering a story as I write, but boy does it bite me in the ass sometimes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Go for it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Wrote and published = Jonsa. I started a Bellarke (The 100) fic several years ago but never finished or posted it. I only started writing fic seriously about a year ago.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Whichever one I've published most recently 😆. But I don't think I can pick. I'll just say "My eyes" because I like the concept and it hasn't had a second shout out here.

Tagging @estherruth-jonsatrash @jonsaslove @esther-dot @ofsansa @greenhikingboots if you want.

#tag game #writing #fanfiction

[yukidragon]

Heeeey YukiDragon!

Big fan; been low-key tearing through your SDJ headcanons and making notes for a fic that I'm somehow 25K deep in after only a few days....

Anyway, wanted to ask: what do YOU think the sun in the corner of the screen when you play SJD indicates? Because *I* have thoughts...but I also wanted to pick your brain 👀

Apologies if you've already been asked this! 😅

I’m really glad you like my headcanons and that I could be helpful for your fic!

I haven’t been asked about this actually, and I happen to have a few thoughts and screenshots I’d like to share!

This took me a couple tries to capture the full title screen before the “start” button appears. I did it to get see more of the children’s drawing of the ‘84 incident where Jack died. The crying of Jack, the children, and the X eyes make it pretty clear that’s what’s being depicted.

You’ll notice in the corner that the sun with the red, yellow, and blue swirls is obscured by a crinkled cloud, and three primary colors are awash in a layer of bloody red. This affects the border around the game as well.

We get to see this cloudy sun more clearly once we start the game... while Jack is talking to his sunshine for the first time.

There’s a cloud obscuring the sun, and all the colors are washed out in an unpleasant shade of gray. The border similarly is washed out. Curiously the text box is normal and vividly colored.

Then, when we jump ahead to MC’s monologue that takes place after they’ve started living with Jack and accepted him as a part of everyday life, the colors are vibrant all around. There’s no cloud blocking the sun. The corner icon remains like this for the rest of the game regardless of choices, including in the mini story with Ian at the end.

I want to show all three versions of this icon up close and side by side so you can see the difference better for yourselves.

I think the symbolism is pretty obvious here. The cloud and unpleasant colors muting the bright and cheerful colors that represent Sunny Day Jack... I imagine this is going to be an indication of when the relationship with Jack is deteriorating... or perhaps his mind.

I honestly hadn’t noticed this detail until someone pointed it out in this post, then I searched for every instance where this might change. I would’ve assumed that we might see it cloudy again in the “no” route, but it was still the sunny version there too.

What I suspect is that the user interface we see during the game is going to be affected by the route we’re on and the choices we make, specifically when it comes to our relationship with Jack and how it affects his state of mind. When everything is positive and MC’s feelings towards Jack are favorable, it’ll be sunny and colorful. When it’s negative... that’s when the cloud comes in and the colors are muted.

I suspect that when things start going this negative route, the interface in the text box is going to change as well. We might see dingier colors, stains, or even tears in the paper. After all, we’re given crinkly paper textures and folded up stickers in the regular interface. The cloud over the sun is especially crinkly. We might get more font changes as well besides just red text.

In this way, the game user interface is doing some storytelling here, likely giving us a hint of Jack’s state of mind. He is solidly in the mindset of Sunny Day Jack, who is all colorful, cheerful, and even child friendly.

Starting to lose his sunshine... that’s going to make Jack start to degrade, I think. His grasp on reality and his sunshine’s love is slipping. He is at risk of being forgotten in that cold, sleepless static hell where God had abandoned him...

I think that as Jack’s sanity starts slipping, that’s when the framing is going to be darker, more unsettling. Jack has the potential to be our foe after all, and he’s certainly a yandere considering what he does to Nick no matter what choices we make in the demo...

If I was to make a guess about what these mean currently... The red version with the cloud is the harshest of them all. It could, in a very real sense, represent Jack while he’s trapped in hell, reliving his gruesome death over and over again. He can’t leave it until MC plays the tape... or we start the game.

Then things change for Jack. He’s not reliving his death, he’s interacting with someone. He’s still wounded, as evidenced by the dimmed colors and the cloud obscuring his sun. MC doesn’t care for him yet because they don’t know him yet. However, by contrast the text interface is colored cheerfully, almost welcoming. The presence of someone interrupting his hell and reaching out to him gives him hope.

Then finally... everything is bright. MC wants Jack around no matter the route. They want him in their life to be their friend, or maybe more. They make him feel love, which of course makes him feel happy. He loves them. He’s free. He’s warm and basking in their happy light. Everything will be wonderfully sunny... as long as no one takes his sunshine away.

What’s interesting too is that by showing that the game’s interface is malleable in this way... it might hint that Jack could be a character who breaks the 4th wall and addresses the player directly at some point. After all, we’re the ones that start the game and let him live again. We’re supporting him and the game being made in the first place. It could even be more confusing to him why we would pick the “no” option when we’re literally playing the game for his company and love.

Personally, I think this is just a meta touch for us as players. It’s much too soon to jump to the conclusion that Jack is a 4th wall breaking entity like Monika from Doki Doki Literature Club, Flowey from Undertale, or other games like that where the characters address the player directly. We haven’t gotten any real hints that he’s interested in us, the player, rather than the MC we’re guiding through the story. MC does have their own personality after all, and a pretty strong one.

Still... it would make sense why Jack can read MC’s thoughts if he was a 4th wall breaker. After all... he could just be reading their narration right alongside us.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur  

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Ask #Sauce-y Art

[caitlyn-winchester]

TLC

Summary: The reader always takes care of her friends and asks for nothing in return. Her friends often take advantage of this without even knowing. As the reader’s list of priories grow, she forgets to take care of herself. Everyone has a breaking point. Pent up emotions poor out and its up to the Pogues to help give the reader some tender love, and care.

platonic!Pogues x fem!reader 

word count: 4K+

Tw: mental health issues, mentions of alcohol, cursing, nudity that's pretty much it. the rest is an overwhelming amount of fluff but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: While this is a self-insert fic, this is a very self-indulgent fic and some details are personal to me. I wish I had some good friends like the Pogues. Also sorry I didn’t include Pope a lot into this. I don't really know how to write him.

A/N#2: Feedback is welcomed. Likes and re-blogs always appreciated. :)

To say you were mentally stretched thinned was an understatement. It has been a long day for you. First you went over to Pope’s house to help him prepare for a math competition he has this weekend. Your phone kept blowing up at Pope’s with texts from John B and Sarah, claiming they got into a fight and were in a dire need of a mediator. Once Pope felt secure enough with the amount of studying he did, you went over to the Chateau to help John B and Sarah. Their fight was petty really, some girl commented heart eyes on John B’s insta post. John B didn’t interact with the girl at all but it still upset Sarah that someone would flirt with her boyfriend. Once you were able to simmer down that situation, you went home in hopes of taking a nap. The past couple of days you didn't get any sleep because of your dad drunkenly blasting music and singing along to it. You tried everything to block out the music, putting blankets by your door to muffle the sound or putting in your own headphones to listen to ASMR. No matter what you did, you could still hear the rock music, ultimately depriving you of sleep. You didn’t want to tell your friends though. You usually weren't one to express any troubles in your life. You didn’t want to burden anyone.

Once you got back home from John B’s, you immediately got an SOS from JJ, needing help with his dad. You couldn't say no to that, especially with JJ needing someone with a vulnerable topic. You slammed your car door, quickly driving to JJ’s. You found him sitting on his front step with a bloody lip and bruises already forming on his body. Lucky for Luke, his truck was gone when you got there. You cleaned JJ’s injures, let him rant and offered to give him a ride to John B’s place. On your way, you got a call from Kiara, crying after she got into another verbal fight with her mom. She begged you to come over and you complied.

That’s where you are currently. Sitting in Kiara’s room, listening to her rant. You normally would give her your full attention, but you were physically and mentally tired.

“Y/N.” Kiara snapped her fingers in front of your face.

“Huh.” you said snapping out of your thoughts.

“Are you even listening to me?” She asks in disbelief, like you wasted her time.

“Yea...no” You trailed off, “Sorry.”

“Really Y/N? Why would you come over if you wouldn't even pay attention to what I have to say. I need you.” She emphasizes.

“I said sorry, I have a lot on my mind right now.” You tried to reason with her.

“Like what?” she scoffed. “Seriously? Your life isn't that bad. You don't face many problems so would it kill you to help me for once and-”

That’s all I do is help!” You snapped. “You guys always ask for my help! I don't mind but I’m tired ok. I’m only one person! I don't have a magic wand that can fucking fix everything. First Pope wanted help with math and he wouldn't let me leave until he got every single fucking math problem right. Then Sarah got mad at John B because some girl commented heart eyes on his insta post. Fucking. Heart. Eyes. You would think John B shot her dog or something. Then JJ needed help with his dad and you needed help with your mom. I barely had a second to breath for myself.” You ranted. “Im so fucking tired, I haven't slept well in days. My dad fucking day drinks then comes home blast fucking rock music all night long. I swear if I have to hear ‘Mad World’ one more goddamn time I’m going to lose it.” You didn’t even realize you started crying until Kiara had you in her arms. You cracked. You facade of ‘everything is fine’ diminished in seconds.

“It’s okay.” Kiara tried to comfort you. When you ranted, she finally saw you. She is shooting herself for not noticing it before. You looked sick with tired eyes and pail skin. It was obviously to her you were not taking care yourself.

You shook your head, releasing yourself from her hold. “N-no, It’s ok. I should get going.” You sniffled.

“Y/N” Kiara tried to grab your wrist but it was too late, you left. You got in your car despite Kiara’s calls of protest. You needed to get out of there. You drove all the way home, composing yourself. When you open your car door, you heard it. Music. Not again, you thought. You wanted to cry all over again. You knew you couldn't stand another night of this so you pulled out your phone.

You: Hey, sorry to bother you so late. Can I stay the night?

John Booger🏄🏻‍♂️: You can never bother me, Y/N/N. Everything ok?

You: Yes. Can I stay over or not?

John Booger🏄🏻‍♂️: Of course. There is always room for you here.

You found John B’s messages unusually too sweet but you were too tired to care. You entered your house, not caring if you were quite or not. Your dad never hears you over the blaring music anyway. That and the fact you swear he is daydreaming, pretending he is actually at the concert. You quickly packed an over night bag of essentials; pajamas, your stuffed bunny, phone charger, a book and hygiene products. You went back out to your car climbing in, starting it and heading toward the Chateau.

When you got there, you slung your bag over shoulder and headed toward the front door. Before you can make it to the front steps, John B exited his house, saying a quick hello and bringing you into a hug.

“Uh. Hello to you too?” You said confused.

He gave you a mischievous look, taking your bag. “I’ll take this so you don't drop it.” He gave out a bird call to signal something...or someone.

“What is going on? why would I drop-” Before you could finished the sentence, JJ rounded the corner of the Chateau.

“Woogity! Woogity!” He yelled, charging at you then throwing you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?! JJ put me down!” You demanded.

“As you wish.” He said but by then, you were already at Twinkie. He placed you on the back bench, accidentally hitting you head on the window.

“Ow.” you groaned. You faintly heard the van slide shut and the engine roar to life.

“JJ, don't damage the precious cargo.” Sarah said from driver seat. John B got into the passenger seat with your bag in tow. JJ mumbled a ‘sorry.’

“Ok. What is going on?” You started to freak out.

“Operation TLC.” JJ said proudly.

“Huh?” This is making no sense to you.

“JJ.” John B bites. “Shush, its a surprise.”

“Oh.” the blonde boy shrugged.

“Where are we going? Why are you guys kidnapping me?” you pressed, wondering what is happening.

“We are your friends so its not kidnapping, Y/N/N.” John B reasons.

“Thats not how it goes John B. Most kidnappings are done by someone the victim knows.” you told the brunette surfer. “You took my stuff, you forced me into the car and now you are driving me somewhere against my will.”

“Ok maybe it is kidnapping.” Sarah spoke up, “But its with love.”

“Yea Y/N. Just go with it.” JJ said pulling you into a hug.

“JJ get off me!” You tried to push him away.

“Nope.” he said popping the ‘p’, clinging to you some more.

“So one on is going to tell me what's going on?” You asked and the three shook your head. You rolled your eyes, looking out the window. You noticed the direction you were heading. “Are we going to Kie’s?” The only response you got was a shrug. You sighed. You still have JJ clinging onto you, with his chin on your shoulder. You hate to admit it felt nice to be given a hug. Normally you were the one initiating the hug, not receiving it. You made sure no one was looking before you wrapped your own arms around JJ’s waist reciprocating the hug. They saw it though and they smiled to themselves. Your stubbornness was starting to subside slightly.

Sarah finally pulled you into the driveway of their destination. JJ offered you a hand and helped you out of Twinkie. You realized your instincts were correct. They brought you to Kiara’s house, which means she probably told them about your outburst. You started to become self-conscious, feeling weak that your friends now know you didn't ask for help while you were struggling. Everything is starting to make sense now, even though you don’t know their full plan.

“Guys, can we just go back. I’m really tired and I want to sleep.” you stressed. “I don't feel like hanging out tonight.”

“Just trust us, please?” Sarah asked. You sighed and nodded your head after a moment. Whatever they have planned they seem to be excited about it. You don't want to let them down. The three guided you into the house and up the stairs to Kiara’s room. As you grew closer to Kiara’s room, you became anxious, unsure what is about to happen. John B must of noticed your uneasiness because he gave your shoulders a comforting squeeze. Kiara’s door was wide open. When you peered inside and saw her sitting on her bed, bouncing her leg anxiously. Her head snapped up when she heard the Pogues footsteps and her eyes immediately landed on you.

“Thank god.” she breathed out relieved, you guess whatever plan she had was going well so far. “Y/N, I am so sorry about earlier.” She held onto both your hands, gently rubbing her thumbs over them. The rest of the Pogues dispersed throughout the room, starting to set things up. Sarah took your bag from John B and started to lay out stuff from your overnight bag. Then she disappeared into the bathroom. JJ and John B were setting up pillows and blankets on the floor.

“Its okay, Kie.” you tried to reassure her, “Sorry about my outburst earlier.”

“First off, you don't have to apologize for that Y/N/N. And second, it’s not okay,” She shook her head. “We have been some awful friends lately.”

“No you guys haven't.” You protested.

“Yea, we kinda have.” John B commented rubbing the back of his neck, standing next to Kiara.

“But-” you tried to object again but you were cut off by JJ.

“Don't try to justify it, Y/N/N. You take such good care of us and always put us first. We took advantage of that and have been shitty friends.”

“Exactly,” Sarah said, walking back from the bathroom connected to Kiara’s room. “Which is why tonight we are going to take care of you. We are going to pamper you and give you whatever you need. You want it, we will get it.” Sarah wrapped her arms around your shoulder, leading you over to the bathroom. She opened the door, which revealed the bathroom with a spa like ambiance. “I already drew you a bubble bath, with lavender. I know it's your favorite. But first I think we should wash your face and put a face mask on you. How does that sound?” Sarah asked you, giving you a loving smiled.

You bursted out crying, becoming overwhelmed by all the attention you have been giving in the past couple of minutes. You were not use to receiving all this kindness, especially from multiple people at once. You weren't one to ask for attention, preferring to just stay drifting by. Your friend’s problems have always been more prominent, making yours get put on the back-burner. This is why you have always took care of yourself instead. Sure, you have always dreamed of someone else taking care of you, just once. You thought you didn’t deserve though.

“I don't deserve this.” you sobbed out, burying your face in your hands. This was so embarrassing and it’s the second you have broke down in front of your friends today. Your friend’s faces fell at your self-deprivation.

“Oh, honey.” Sarah pulled your arms down so you were forced to look at her, holding your hands. “Listen to me. You do deserve this.” But you shook your head, disagreeing. “Yes, you do.” Sarah pressed further. “You deserve to get taken care of too.”

“Sorry, I’m just not use to this.” You sniffled and hugged yourself, almost like you were trying to guard yourself. You felt a hand on the top of your head, starting to smooth it over slowly. The repetitive motion helped you calm down.

“Well, get use to it,” John B stated. “This will be happening more often.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Because we love you, doofus.” JJ commented.

“Exactly.” Kiara quipped. “We don't show how much we actually appreciate you and it’s time we do.” you nodded your head. You guess you could give this a shot, maybe it’ll be nice.

“Now, let’s get you in that bath before the water gets cold.” Sarah started to guide you to the bathroom.

“Wait.” Kiara caught your wrist. “Are you hungry? We could send the boys to pick something up. When was the last time you ate something?”

“I-” You had to think for a minute. When was the last time you ate something?you pondered, the only think you could think of was a granola bar.

“Ok well if you have to think about it then it must of been a while ago.” Kiara stated. “What would you like?”

“Oh, I don't care.” You shrugged.

“Uh Uh, remember this is your night. We will pick up whatever you want.” JJ said.

“Um.. McDonalds.” You said after a moment. “My usual I guess.”

“One 10 piece chicken nugget meal coming right up.” John B grabbed his keys, JJ following him out the door.

“And get me some pizza!” Sarah yelled at her boyfriend.

“Oh we can just get pizza if that is easier-” Sarah cut you off by putting a finger to your lips.

“Nope. You want McDonalds. You’re getting McDonalds. Capisce?” She demanded.

“Yes, ma’am.” You replied, obviously they weren't budging.

Sarah lead you into the bathroom, while Kiara went down stairs. She waited outside for you to undress and put on a fluffy white robe she had layed out for you. Once you were done, you let her back in and she instructed you to wash your face, handing you your face wash.

“Sit here sweetie.” She pulled out a stool for you to sit on. She reached the for the vanity to grab the face mask and applicator. “Ok now close your eyes and I’ll apply this for you.” She instructed and you complied. She started to apply the face mask, starting at your forehead, then moving to your cheeks. She was so gentle with her brush strokes, it was almost feather-like. You think she is purposely going slow, so you could savor the moment. It did feel really nice. “Feel good?” She asked when she noticed a small smile on your face.

“Yea..” you hummed.

“This is a clay face mask, but its not too drying. Your face will feel really smooth after.” She told you. She continued to carefully apply the product, going for your T-zone now. “You have the cutest nose.” She complimented as she wiped the mask down your nose. You blushed at her comment and muttered a small ‘thanks.’ You heard the cap of the tub being placed back on and a faint clink as the tub hit the counter. You opened up your eyes. “Ok, that's done. Now you can just lay in the tub and soak for as long as you want. Don’t worry about us out there, take some time for yourself. I’ll be in shortly with you pajamas. When your done with your bath you can wash off you mask with a warm rag and moisturize. Also, don't worry about cleaning up the tub. I’ll take care of that.”

Once she knew you were all set, she left the bathroom allowing you to disrobe and enter the tub. The warm water felt nice on your sore muscles. You never noticed how bad they were from running around everyday until now. The longer you soaked, the more you felt the stress leave your body. It’s like you just got shot up with dopamine as you started to smile and giggle to yourself. You took some deep breaths to really get the full affect of the lavender. After some time, you heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You called out. You know it had to be one of the girls, seeing as you were naked. The bubbles covered your body pretty well, so they wouldn't see anything. The door opened to reveal Kiara, holding a bowl of fruit. Sarah shortly followed, with your pajamas. She placed them on the counter and left, shutting the door behind her. Kiara stayed in the bathroom. She grabbed a bath tray from her bathroom closet. She placed the tray in front of you, placing the bowl of fruit down. She kneeled down beside the tube, smiling at you.

“Someone is looking better.” She commented. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m on a cloud.” you joked all loopy.

“Wow. That relaxed huh?” She laughed. “I’ll have to ask Sarah to draw me a bath one day.”

“She is really good at it.” You drew out the ‘really’, giggling. “I think she put some drugs in here. I feel high.”

“Nah, I think that feeling is you finally letting go of all that stress. Your brain is feeling happy, instead of playing tricks on you and making you sad.” She explained. “You deserve to be happy, so please come to use next time when you need us. Pogues take care of Pogues.”

“I know. Thanks for this.”

“Anything for you, beautiful.” She brushed some hair out of your face. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Yea, me too. You know how ASMR makes your brain all tingly.” You explained and Kiara nodded. “Well that's how I feel, but in real life. Especially when Sarah was applying the face mask. I felt all tingly and nice. I don't know how to explain it.”

“I think you explained it pretty well. Thats how I feel when you take care of me. Now you know how it feels and I think everyone else would agree when I say, now we know how you feel when you take care of us. There is a sense of pride knowing you helped someone feel better. That, and it’s nice to show people love. Good karma.” Kiara explained. “Now, I brought in some fruit for you to snack on. I know normally if you just each fast food, your stomach will start to hurt and we don't want that. Holler if you need anything.” She ran a hand over your head, and left you alone to relax again.

You sat back again, savoring the feeling of the warm water on your skin. I could get use to this, you thought as you smiled you yourself. You munched on some fresh fruit now and then. Your stomach grumbled, you never realize how hungry you actually were. You reluctantly got out of the tub after you felt the water starting to cool and you were all pruney. You went over to the counter and saw that Sarah arranged items in order so you wouldn't forget a step. You took a rag and some warm water and gently began to remove the face mask. After, you popped on some of your moisturizer. Sarah was right, your skin felt very smooth. Next you applied some lavender body lotion that Sarah must of placed on the counter for you. It smelled just as nice as the bath. Finally, you slipped on your pajamas on. You looked in the mirror and smiled at yourself. You definitely looked and felt better than you did 45 minutes ago. You exited the bathroom.

“No, JJ. You cannot go check on Y/N. She is naked.” Kiara stressed at the blonde boy.

“JJ are you trying to see me naked?” you jokingly asked JJ. Your four friend’s head shot up at your voice.

“I mean, I’m sure it's a beautiful view.” JJ flirted, walking over to you and slinging an arm around your shoulder. He lead you over to Kiara bed, sitting you down. “Here.” he put a tray in you lap that head you McDonalds order. “Eat up.” he patted your head.

“Thanks guys.” You smiled at JJ and John B. You started to dig into your meal then you felt the bed dip behind you.

“Lets fix this rat’s nest.” You heard Kiara’s voice from behind you. She gathered your hair in her hands.

“Its not a rat’s nest.” You mumbled.

“Uh, I don't know. I think I could put a bird in your hair and it’ll think its a home.” John B teased. You rolled your eyes and flipped in off.

“Oh and by the way.” John B started. “Pope says thank you for helping him with his competition. He texted me and said his team won the first round.”

“Tell him I said congrats and It’s not problem.” You smiled, happy the hard work payed off.

“Yea he is bummed he missed out tonight, but this competition helps him with his scholarship.”

“I understand.” you replied.

Kiara started to brush your hair while you ate. She started at the ends of your hair and worked her way up to your scalp. She used a technique similar to Sarah. Gentle, soft strokes in order to not pull your hair. This felt even nicer than having a face mask applied. You were a sucker for someone playing with your hair. The repetitive brushing started to relax you again. You must of closed your eyes at one point because you felt JJ start to snicker.

“I think she likes that.” JJ laughed. You open your eyes and saw JJ taking a snap video of you.

“Really JJ?” you asked, rolling your eyes. “Why are you videoing me?”

“You looked so blissed out and cute, I want to remember this.” He grinned and John B laughed as we watched the video. You sighed and started to munch on your fries. Suddenly aware of how everyone was watching you, the self-consciousness slowly creeping back in.

“Ignore them.” Kiara whispered. She had seemed to have ditched the brush and is now just running her fingers through your hair. “Just relax and eat your food.” And you did. You finished your whole meal while Kiara played with your hair and the Pogues conversed in a causal conversation. JJ took they tray from you once he noticed it was empty. Kiara ended playing with your hair by putting it in a loose braid.

“Alright how about a movie?” Sarah suggested, clasping her hands together.

“Sounds good.” You yawned. “But I might fall asleep.”

“Thats quite alright.” John B said, as he slid some fluffy socks on your feet. “Sorry, they looked cold.” He said sheepishly when you gave him an odd look.

“Its okay.” you reassured. Kiara started to set up the TV, while the rest of the Pogues helped you settle into bed. Sarah fluffed your pillow and tucked the blanket around you, like someone would do for a child. You weren't surprised at this. Sarah was definitely a momma bear out of the friend group. Once she was satisfied you were comfortable, she leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Night Y/N.” She gave a loving smile.

“Can’t forget Fluffy.” JJ said placing the stuffed bunny if your arms. You blushed and accepted your childhood plushie. He also gave your forehead a kiss. “Night.”

“Goodnight Y/N/N.” John B said and rubbed your temple quickly before he went and joined Sarah and JJ on the floor. Kiara laid down next to you with the remote in your hand.

“What do you wanna watch?” She asked you.

“Uh. doesn't really matter to me but something Disney? I’ll probably fall asleep soon.”

“Ok.” she smiled and played a random Disney movie. You tried to pay attention but they week’s events finally caught up to you. You felt Kiara start to rub your back softly, which didn’t help your sleepiness. You didn’t last 30 minutes into the movie until your eyelids were permanently closed, not having the strength to keep them open. You were floating in the space between wake and sleep when you hear Kiara’s voice.

“I still feel so bad. I should of noticed earlier.” She whispered to her other friends. She must of thought you were fully asleep.

“Kie, we all should have. This isn't all on you.” John B reasoned.

“I guess, but I yelled at her instead of asking what was wrong. I should of asked.” She replied.

“You didn’t know, and when you did realize you instantly made a plan to make her feel better.” JJ told Kiara.

“Yea Kie. now that I realize it, this is the happiest I’ve seen her in a while. All because of you. Don’t make us do a TLC night on you now.” Sarah lightened the mood. “Can we do this more often though? I like taking care of her and I think she likes it too.” She said, taken in your peaceful face squished into the pillow and your stuffed animal.

“Yea me too.” JJ spoke up, “Since she always takes care of all of us, I guess we  never needed to take care of each other to the extent she does. We never realized how much work goes into it and I kinda like it, you get what I’m saying?” He asks his friends.

“Yea I get what you mean. It’s like we always check in on each other but we never had to physically show each other affection. Y/N usually fills in that void for us. Now it’s time we fill in that void for her.” John B insisted.

“I think she still, like.. needs to get use to it though. So I say we keep doing this until she is comfortable enough to ask for help herself.” JJ watched the slow rise and fall of your chest.

“I agree. I think we should make this a weekly thing.” John B suggested. “But once a week might be too overwhelming for her. So how about we focus on caring for each other instead of one person. Unless it’s like tonight were someone needs to get taken care of, you know.”

“I like that idea.” Kiara agreed. “You know I follow this mental health page on instagram and one time I saw a post that said the person that seems the most loving, needs the love the most. Like they never receive it, so they give it. Never noticed how true that was until tonight.” Kiara started to caress your temple. The rest of the Pogues muttered out agreements before deciding to go to bed themselves. 

That night, you fell asleep the most content you have been in a while. JJ was right, you definitely were not use to this amount of undivided attention, but you definitely get use to this new weekly ‘TLC’ night.

****

#Outer Banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #sarah cameron x reader #kiara carerra x reader #John B x reader #John B Routledge x reader #outer banks fluff #obx #obx fanfiction #chase stokes #madelyn cline #madison bailey #rudy pankow #comfort fic #self indulgent

[cursedvibes]

Hey, I'm the person who commented on Stitches Across, asking about your references and such! Sorry for taking so long to reach out through here. First of all, The Changelings story got me very curious. I found it on Amazon and will try to see if I manage to get the ebook of it for further reading. If you have anymore tales like this to rec, I'd gladly take them. Second, the explanation towards the centipede motif was absolutely perfect, I don't think I myself would be able to come up with something so spot-on for a symbolism. Arthropods to me are very fascinanting, but I'm a bit scared of/disgusted by them, so I generally only observe them from afar and read about them, I actually prefer Mollusks. Anyway, I digress. The thing is you're a very talented writer. May I ask what about Kenny's explanation for their gender. Was it based on something or is it a writing construction for them specifically? And also why were they so repulsed by the breast-touching? Is it because, in that moment, they were directly related to birth and motherhood or more of a quirk related to their gender views? And, finally, the Japanology thing is really, really cool! It makes a bunch of sense actually. May I ask if is it true that Gege's kanji choices are very peculiar to Japanese readers? Anyways, thanks for the delightful read! I'm very glad you responded to my comments! Have a great weekend!

Hi! I'm so glad to hear back from you! I hope you had a nice weekend :)

Glad you were able to find the story and I hope you will enjoy it (despite having some questionable parts)! Hm, I can't think of any tale that is quite like The Changelings. In terms of Heian literature you have the classic of course, like The Tale of Genji, with some entertaining stories and look into the court system and court ladies past time. As for historical queer texts, the ones I can think of are written by Edo period samurai. For example, some of the works by Gennai Hiraga about how homosexuality is superior to heterosexuality. Rootless Grass is about King Enma and a kappa falling for an onnagata and trying to win his affection (and try to kill him so he can come to the kingdom of the dead). Then of course we have The Great Mirror of Male Love by Saikaku Ihara, a collection of romance stories between samurai, monks, kabuki actors and town folk. It's interesting and at times pretty sweet, I especially find it fascinating how monks are depicted here, but its also very much a product of its time. You always have the expectation that the older, more masculine partner will take on the dominant role and his younger, beautiful, more feminine counterpart the submissive one. It's also pretty misogynistic because the author is convinced that love between men is better than love between men and women because men are just categorically superior and women barely more than baby-making machines... But that's historical texts for you. Very similar to how The Changelings features trans characters, but also forces them to detransition in the end.

I also used to not pay much attention to insects or arthropods, but jjk has made me a lot more interested in reading about centipedes, millipedes and spiders in particular and turns out they are a lot more fascinating than I thought :D that's also what I love about writing. It encourages me to do research into things I would otherwise never bother with. I haven't looked into molluscs much, but I know snails and slugs are very complex organisms and can do some crazy stuff like produce scales that include metal.

About Kenjaku's gender, I played around with it and wanted to have their gender identity actually change fluidly and not always line up with their current body. It wasn't based on anything specific, just one way of how I interpret their character. We don't have a definitive statement on how Kenjaku identifies and if that identity changes or is affected by their vessels, so there's a lot of room to explore. In other fics I stick to they/them or pronouns that match the sex of their vessel, but I changed it up a bit here. In the prequel Perfect Preparation Kenjaku starts out with he/him pronouns and later switches to she/her shortly before taking over Kaori even while being in a male body. Same in Stitches, except their journey is a bit more detailed with Kenjaku starting to switch up between she/her and they/them after Yuuji's birth. It's a combination of Kaori's body having served her purpose and Kenjaku wanting to move on, and generally just being uncomfortable with the body because it doesn't quite match their identity. Not a huge bother because I assume Kenjaku is used to inhabiting bodies they don't like but keep for necessity (like needing Geto's body, but disliking being addressed by his name while Noritoshi's name is still fine even after a century), but things like Jin addressing them differently or taping their/Kaori's chest do make the whole thing a bit more comfortable for them. It doesn't have anything to do with motherhood, they don't mind or even welcome being called "mother" (I think that's always the case, no matter the body), the body just started to overstay its welcome and didn't match their self-perception and current preferences.

Oh yeah, Gege's way of writing can be a bit peculiar sometimes. Kanjis and their hiragana/katakana reading being different (like Kenjaku saying "my body" but the kanji being "Geto's body) isn't that uncommon in manga, but Gege can sometimes use very uncommon kanji or ones with ambiguous meaning. You have the way Sukuna is talking for example, which can incorporate some outdated words, like recently using 写真機 (photographic device) instead of カメラ (camera) when talking about Nanako's phone camera. Or how he praised Gojo in his death. It can be understood as "you were magnificent", but his wording and kanji usage references an idiom that refers to the sky becoming clear after a rainy day, so his words mean more literally: "you cleared the skies".

Another example would be Kenjaku bringing out Chinese idioms when spitting their little "I have lived" poem at Tengen in chapter 206. "tug-of-war between feuding giants" 竜戦虎争 literally translated to "a battle between dragon and tiger" with the dragon representing heaven/sky aka Tengen and the tiger (Itadori) earth or Kenjaku. The other line about "capricious alliances and betrayals" 合従連衡 references the Chinese Warring States period and it's many coalitions and political power struggles. I assume Kenjaku prepared that little speech a while ago to finally throw it in Tengen's face. Or the poetic spirit just overcame them in the heat of the moment.

Kenjaku also incorporated a lot of pregnancy symbolism in their language. Like in Shibuya they said "What I can create does not exceed the bounds of my own potential", but it can also mean "What I birth...". Similar when they talk to Choso about the merger they say Tengen will become a cursed spirit bearing/becoming pregnant with/swollen with the cursed energy of a hundred million people. There are dozens more examples. Names for cursed techniques and the sorcerer squats in the Heian era are also notoriously difficult to translate in English because they contain so many references and possible meanings that you can write entire essays about it. Some fantranslators thankfully do exactly that, like TCB and Shishiso. I really appreciate their input and the research they do when necessary. TCB dedicating multiple pages to explaining how Tengen's sunyata barrier works was crazy and Shishiso recently did something similar as an explanation for the Heian era squats and Sukuna's cursed tools. Too bad we have John Werry as official translator, who doesn't even know the story and just skips over the finer parts of the text...

I'm glad you got in touch! Hopefully you don't mind the word salad :D

#asks #my stuff

[maiverie]

HI DO U HAVE ANY TIPS ON STARTING A TUMBLR BLOG? like how you format your links and everything i'm new and want to start a blog but don't know how 😭😭

hi anon!!! omg sure yes I dooo!!! when I started I didn't have anyone to help me so it was literally such a shitshow lmfao so I HOPE THIS HELPS!!

— (long post below)

disclaimer: this is all based on my experience and im sure there are other users with better tips than me so DONT TAKE MY WORD FOR GOSPEL BAHAHA

(also I'm going to assume you reached out to me because you want to start a kpop writing blog and not smth else, so all these tips are obv specific to writing blogs. I also don't know how experienced u are w Tumblr so I might say some obvious things,, sorry if you already know most of these things!!)

anyway tumblr is actually really intuitive and after about two days I honestly think you'll get it (probably even within a day tbh). here are some quick steps I feel like make sense in my mind:

find a url (if you're starting a kpop writing blog,, most people seem to include the name/a reference to their bias but in my case i kinda just went w my name and played around w it until I liked it 😭 you can also search for "url ideas" in tumblr if you're having trouble!!) keep in mind you can literally change it at any point in time so don't worry about choosing the -perfect- one

set up your blog! most of the time, people have a navigation post (the pinned post where everything is linked so readers can navigate ur blog easily), a masterlist (a post that shows everything you've ever written), a wip list (a post that lists all your works in progress, so fics you're currently writing and want to publish in the near future). additionally, people have a post about themselves (like an about me section with blog rules and stuff. this is my old old one). personally, i have a carrd right now (this is mine here) and you'll find other users have one or the other!

set up your navigation post: hyperlink honestly everyone's different (btw don't worry about taking these tips too seriously bc honestly u should do whatever you want on your blog — it's yours after all!!) but I think most people include their name, pronouns, age (sometimes), timezone (sometimes) and hyperlinks to their masterlist + wip list.

how to hyperlink im sure you've done it before for school, but it's really easy! here's a demonstration — this link will send you to my navi, and this link will send you to one of my fics! to do it, you just need to copy the link of whatever post you're trying to hyperlink (three dots in the top right of the post -> "copy link"), typesomething, double click onto the word you're trying to link it to, tap the 🔗 button, and copy the link into that! (in this example, it'd look like this: something.)

how to make ur navi neat/pretty personally, I used to just search for moodboards (on tumblr) and pick 3 photos that I really liked (obviously give credit to whoever made the moodboard!). what I have now is just something that I designed but you can have one or the other, it doesn't really matter! other tips I think I'd suggest is to keep it as simple as possible; you can embellish it later but make sure it's easy to read and people can see all the links! I really like searching for "symbols" on Tumblr, and then there are cute lil symbols u can add to your post :) or just use emojis! or dashes! this might be a little ahead, but I have a tutorial on gradient text if you really care, but maybe focus on the base first :D just as an example, my moot @.hazyyu has a really pretty navi!

apply the same principles to your masterlist + wip list + about me just search for symbols, add whatever images you think look pretty, search for "line breaks" on Tumblr and there are pictures of links you can use to divide stuff up! making a carrd is easy but time-consuming (just search on YouTube "carrd tutorial")

there are other caveats to a writing blog, but those were just the basics! here are some other things I thought I could mention:

a permanent taglist is a list of people you tag every single time you publish a story/update it (for the purpose of them being notified every time you post) — sometimes people will ask u to "add me to your permanent taglist!" which just means tag them every time you post a story. personally, I have a google form for anyone that wants to be on the permanent taglist, but I didn't do that initially — I used to just wait until people sent in an ask asking to be on it and then I'd have a separate post with everyone who did. for example, this was my old one! doesn't matter whichever approach you do ^^

people also organise their blog via the hashtags I do this too! it's so much easier that way :)) for example, every time I get an ask, I tag it with "#ask" (umm a lot of people are much more creative w their tags but personally icb lmaoo — here's an example of my friend who used a different tag and it's really pretty!). if you want help with organising your blog w tags, here's an explanation I wrote a while back!

if you want help promoting your work, you should consider joining a few networks! these are basically big big blogs that reblog all your work so more people can see ur stuff ^^ here are some of the ones I'm a part of: kflixnet, enhanet, k-labels!

you'll meet other users along the way and call them your moots; most of the time this just means you interact w them a lot via asks/dms. personally I'm not really active and I kinda find it hard to keep track of a lot of moots so I stick to myself and interact w anyone that comes my way!! but bae u can do whatever u want!! go find blogs of people that seem rlly cool and send an ask and just see where it goes; just don't badger people, be nice and I think you'll pick up on sm things naturally!!!

ur blog is gna look great!!! let me know when you finish setting it up!!! I hope this helps 😋💖

#ask #@ : anon ♡︎ #vis à vis ꒰ advice ꒱ ✰ #questions about

[romaine2424]

20 questions for fic writers!

Thanks for the retro-tag @phdmama and because I'm friends with @sassy-cissa!

It's all under the cut! Note: Assume all fics are Drarry unless otherwise noted.

How many works do you have on AO3? 60 including 1 under Anon.

What's your total AO3 Word Count? ~1.6M (552K of that is one fic. LOL)

What fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter and only Harry Potter

What are your top 5 fics by Kudos? Survival of the Species (47K) Jolene (21.5K) Double Edged Sword (552K) This Ain't the Garden of Eden (131K) Jolene Deux (5K)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, though I missed quite a few when I was on hiatus. I love engaging with readers and seeing what in my stories struck their fancy. I've made some great friends over the years through comments on my fic.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? There are No Innocent Vampires (31K). This is a Scarry fic (both are adults). I do have a few others.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Uh, most of them. But if forced to choose, Silver and Gold (70.6K) with Wolf!Draco!

Do you get hate on fics? OMG Yes. My first fic, Double Edged Sword in its earliest chapters was sporked on Deleterius. It’s a wonder I ever wrote again, but I was so pissed off at the Drarry writer who did it, I carried on. Thankfully the site went bye bye. And I also learned from that fic never ever have either Harry or Draco have an affair with Charlie Weasley. LOL. More currently, I just had to lock my current WIP this week because of a troll. ☹

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I write both slash and het but it's not my fav thing to do. I only put it in when it fits a scene and it can take me days and days to write that scene.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? No

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes, twice. Doubled Edged Sword was brought over to FFN and Survival of the Species brought over to adultfanfiction. The latter was quite funny because someone opened an account using my name to post it.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes but now I'm sad. Almost all of my translated fics are gone. *sobs* The sites they were posted on no longer exist. However, my fav translations were done by Pescadora and her team at Intruders Slashzine. They translated the following in Spanish. And they're beautiful. *happy sigh* Jolene Jolene Deux Silver and Gold

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, me and 9 of my friends…I think we’re still friends. *just kidding* We each wrote a chapter for this story. If you like Case Fic and haven’t read it, give it a shot. Level Two: Series One

What’s your all-time favourite ship? Drarry but I do write for other ships both slash and het and also Gen. I mainly read Drarry but also the others mentioned. I just really enjoy good plotty HP stories.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? After I finish my current WIP, The Azkaban Letters, (Drarry and Haphne) that I started in 2007, and finish another one I also started in 2007 at Christmas, I’ll be done with all WIPs I’ve posted on AO3.  I do have a few in my personal files. One, which I have 30K written for and it’s Scarry. It's the Scarry one I have my doubts about.

What are your writing strengths? Plot and world building. Some folks like my dialogue.  I try. 

What are your writing weaknesses? Well besides the smut already mentioned, character analysis and slow burn. Definitely more of action/adventure writer.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? No no no.  Did it once for Double Edged Sword. It was in Russian for which I had a translator or 3 write out the text for me and give me final approval. To this day I still get Russian readers disagreeing with the text.

First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter and still here.

Favourite fic you’ve written? This is hard, but for personal reasons, I’d have to say This Ain’t the Garden of Eden. It was the first story I wrote after an almost ten-year break. I had to shut down my muse back then almost overnight, and I wasn’t sure it could be revived. I'm tagging any other writer who wants to join the fun! Free Tag!

#writer ask game

[soccerpunching]

2, 4, AND 11 OF THE SAPPHIC ENGOUKIDOU MAGICAL GIRLS AU PLEASEE EVER SINCE I FIRST SAW U MENTION IT I WAS HOOKED IMMEDIATELY LORE PLSSS 🙏🙏🙏

[Image Description: darkmode screenshot of white text that says: Reblog if you are a fanfiction author and would like your readers to put one of your fic titles in your ask + questions about it. End of description.]

Thank you so much for asking about that story!! It's only been for a month and a few weeks in my head but it's already taking over my life. I'm glad you liked it aaaaaaaa I'll make sure to keep writing it afasdsafshdfgsd

To everybody else who has not heard of it before, you can read a brief introduction to it here!!

Sapphic EnGouKidou Magical Girls AU

2: What scene did you first put down?

I didn't mention this but this fic is originally a canon divergent AU where Kidou won consecutively in the FF and Gouenji and Endou didn't meet in middle school; it's engoukidou back then too. So the original dialogues and scenes have that context first before it was ever a Magical Girls AU. It goes roughly like this (this is still Haruna and Kidou's situation here btw):

Haruna: And since when did I say that?! Kidou: !! Haruna: You think this is what I want?! To live in this... stupidly fancy mansion with a full course buffet everyday?!! Is that what you thought when you... when you chose this stupid trophy!! *shoves it on his chest* when you chose winning over contacting me?!! Kidou: *voice breaking* I didn't-- I thought--!! Haruna: Yeah, exactly!! You thought!! Because you didn't think it was worth listening to me!!

I recreated it here and I still think about this... It turned into a Magical Girls AU because I wanted there to be a way for these three to act where they're away from expectations of the people in their lives and prying eyes. This also includes from each other's (because Gouenji and Kidou have a bad history and Endou initially wants to be liked by and befriend Gouenji and vice versa) and it turns out they like being silly and fighting crimes while wearing skirts (only 2 out of 3 of them likes the skirt actually)!!

4: What's your favorite line of dialogue?

I have two sets, but it's not written to be posted yet and this story is at the early parts of creation overall so the scenes and dialogues are probably going to change, but it's so funny to me. They're all transformed as magical girls in these scenes. I use the pronouns they currently use for themselves on the narration and since this is right at the start of the story, they mostly use he/him. Kidou also has an army of penguins as his weapon, I will elaborate next time.

Kidou: *takes the small penguin with a similar cape to him, thinking for a while* Call me Hotaru. *extends his hand* Endou: *shakes the beautiful lady's hands vigorously* MAMO--MAM-- MOMOKO!! Kidou: *sweatdrops with a small smile* Did you just come up with that? Endou: N--NO!! Kidou: *scoffs in amusement* of course...

-- Different scene and chapter --

Kidou: I'm Hotaru and that one shouting over there is my partner Momoko Gouenji: *nods* Nice to meet you... *ties the villains even tighter with his fire laso, not really trying to ignore him* Kidou: Kidou: So what's your name? Gouenji: --Huh? Kidou: Your name? Gouenji: *blinks then looks at Kidou then at the villains* Gouenji: I don't want to tell... Kidou: I didn't tell anyone my real name either-- Endou: YOUR NAME'S NOT HOTARU?! Kidou: *hand on hip* You lied to me about yours too. Endou: N-No--How did you find out?!?

It's my favorite lines of dialogues so far since I haven't written much about it unlike my other WIPs. It's my newest one so far as the others already have months in the making. This will change in the future...

11: What do you like best about this fic?

It's so interesting to write or imagine how the break trio (and the other characters) would be if they were given the chance to wear a mask and not care about the people's expectations of them. We all know how both Kidou and Gouenji only bares themselves to very few people and that Endou most often than not wants to be the support that someone needs (in a bit of a people pleasing degree at rare times too).

Even if Kidou is canonically a trauma-dumper, he still put a face (to everyone who isn't Endou) whenever he's interacting bcs he's always aware that all of his actions have consequences for the Kidou Conglomerate. As for Gouenji, he canonically has only told his problems to Endou and have dangerous levels of following people's expectations of him ((his father + his friends expecting a powerful shoot (only what he thinks bcs they just want him to play soccer actually)).

So anyway, I think escapism would bring an interesting layer to their characters and them being an egg in the story is just probably me projecting or that I'm adding another layer to their characters.

Thank you so much for caring about this story and asking about it so much omg 🥺

Sana masarap ulam mo everyday 🥹🥹

Ask about my WIPs here

#inazuma eleven #inazuma eleven fanfiction #inazuma eleven fanfic #gouenji shuuya #endou mamoru #kidou yuuto #otonashi haruna #axel blaze #mark evans #jude sharp #celia hills #ie imagined by lore #sapphic engoukidou magical girls au #halftime lore #honeycrashed #fandom ask game #inazuma break trio #already answered: Kaleidoscope - 3. 4. 5. 10. & 15 #ina11 fanfics from fritz #fanfics from fritz #ie fanfic

[jamiesfootball]

Tagged by @jamietarttsnorthernattitude and @asteria-argo

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

8

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

191,977

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Ted Lasso is the main one right now

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A German, a Russian, and an American Walk into a Bar (The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015))

oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) (Ted Lasso (TV))

The Garrison Reserve (The Musketeers (2014))

The Dick String Incident (Ted Lasso (TV))

somebody's hands who felt like mine (Ted Lasso (TV))

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, though I am woefully behind

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's a toss up between right next to the heart of me and somebody's hands who felt like mine. I think the first one is technically the sharper angst, but it at least has a sequel in the works to make things a little better. The second one is a softer whump, but open-ended and with no follow up planned.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

In terms of fics that have actually ended, A German, a Russian, and an American Walk into a Bar wins by a mile

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet???

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. Whatever kind. If I am feeling inspired by a thought, I'm gonna write it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've written AUs but no straight-up crossovers yet, though I've lazily batted a few around in a sort of 'what if x met y' sort of way

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, A German, a Russian, and an American Walk into a Bar and The Garrison Reserve were both co-written

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Right now it's Jamie/Whump

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

It's not that I won't finish The Garrison Reserve (literally the last chapter is half written), but finishing it is going to mean a rewatch because I have straight up forgotten half the side characters' names

16. What are your writing strengths?

Maybe descriptions? Also my willingness to try to tell a joke

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

This is one I try very very hard to edit out, but I am literally the worst at writing my thoughts down out-of-order or forgetting to finish a thought entirely. Oh, and dialogue. It either comes naturally or I am forging that garbage with a hammer.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think there is a time for using another language in-text and a time when simply implying the other language or leaning on the perspective of a character who doesn't speak the other language is the correct decision.

That said I am currently writing a story about Dani and Jamie which involves some Spanish dialogue, but I feel fairly good about it because 1) when in doubt, I can (and do) just quote my mom, 2) if it sounds too simplified / non-colloquial I can always make the excuse that Dani, like my mom, doesn't want to confuse Jamie while he's learning, 3) any mistake I make could easily be a mistake that Jamie would make anyways. Wins all around!

Somewhat related, there was an absolutely fantastic Sherlock (BBC) fic back in the day (which was sadly removed from AO3) told from John's point of view where Sherlock decided he would go about his day in Italian. It included Italian dialogue that you could hover over for the translation, but the thrust of the fic was John playing along with his best guess of what was being said. The result was a fic that concurrently told two entwined stories by emphasizing two different povs by giving the audience the choice to ignore one in favor of experiences the other one first with no subtitles. It was very cool.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

a two-page handwritten DBZ fanfic when I was 11.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love)

tagging: @sighonaraa and @altschmerzes because I've not seen either of you yet

#tag game