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they-call-me-emmy · 6 months

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JENNA ORTEGA X GN! CO-STAR READER

"Work buddies, that's all."

........................................................

Y/N POV:

God, you never expected to actually get the job. You'd auditioned almost for fun.

You were a small actor. usually played background characters, or main characters in lesser known movies. So when you signed up for Wednesday, season two, it was almost a joke.

Until you made it.

You'd been told only a month before shooting. Which, this alone shocked you deeply, as now you had to travel to Romania. What shocked you even more was the fact they didn't give you the role you had auditioned for.

They'd given you Wednesday's crush.

They told you it was a big role. One of the leads. You'd be an important character, so if you couldn't accept the role, tell them now.

So you accepted it.

......

Meeting Jenna Ortega was probably the most exciting moment of your life. She was excited to meet her partner for season two, and had come bounding up to you happily, headphones around her neck and a big smile on her face.

"I'm Jenna!" She told you excitedly. Her dimple was deep, her eyes sparkled with happiness.

"Y/N" you grin back, reaching out your hand to let her shake. She accepted it, your hands gracing each others, sending a spark through your arm.

"You're gonna be my crush in the show, right?!"

You nod, confirming her suspicions.

"Here, you can go over there to get a script. They want us to read them a lot, and if you need anything, I'll be in the make-up room." She told you, pointing to a table filled with stapled papers, and then to a room labeled "MAKEUP AND SPECIAL EFFECTS"

You nod again. "Thank you!"

"No problem!" She said, before skipping away. She must have had caffeine this morning, she'd never seemed this hyper in any interview or video you'd seen of her. She'd always seemed so laid back and chill.

Emma Myers suddenly stood next to you. You'd met you yesterday, and the two of you had quickly bonded. She read the confusion on your face easily.

"She definitely likes you." Emma stated, rolling her eyes.

"I would hope so, since we're working together for the next god knows how many months."

"No..." Emma sighed, facing you. "She LIKES you."

"No she doesn't!" you respond, scrunching your face up.

"She's never been that hyper in her life."

"She probably had coffee today." you tell Emma. "Like, a lot."

"She doesn't like coffee."

"Energy drinks."

"She has to maintain the sleep deprived Wednesday look anyways."

"Isn't she like, 20? No 20 year old I've ever met still leaps around because of a crush."

"She's 21." Emma sighs.

"We barely know each other."

............

"CUT!"

Jenna sighs, looking at you. "I swear, if we have to do this take one more time, someones losing their tongue."

"Woah!" You exclaim, tossing your hands up. "Don't go all Addams on me now, Ortega!"

She giggles and shakes her head. "I make no promises."

Time with Jenna was nice. You'd never thought a big-time celebrity like her would be fun to hang out with. You always thought they were work, 24/7.

But she was cool.

..................

"So...uhm, I was wondering if you'd...maybe you would...go...would you go to...to the cafe with me....like...the cafe with me...on a...on a...a date maybe?"

(Me speaking to my boyfriend be like)

You giggled, the actions reminding you of her scene last season where she had to ask out "Xavier".

"Yes Jenna, I would love to."

Like a scene straight out of a fucking show.

.............

"Hi Y/N!" She said, clutching herself tightly and smiling.

"Hi Jen!" You respond. She blushed, from the cold or the nickname, you couldn't tell.

She was wearing a brown jacket, her nose pink from cold. She had headphones around her neck and a smile on her face.

"So, the cafe..." She started. Pointing to a small shop, she said, "That way!" She quickly bounded off, leaving you in the dust.

"Jenna, wait!" You cry, quickly speeding after her. Luckily for you, she had short legs and you easily caught up with her.

Out of breath, you both stop in front of the cafe. The cold allowed you to breathe out puffs of chilly air. Jenna's cheeks were pink.

"We made it!" You mumbled, leaning forward and pushing the door open. You held it open and let her pass through.

"Thank you." She whispered to you as you followed her inside.

"No problem, m'lady." You joke, spotting a table for two and rushing to grab it.

You both sat down, facing each other.

"Do you wanna go order something...?"

Jenna nodded. "What do you want?"

"Uhm, just like a muffin or something."

She nodded, running into the line and shooting you a smile and a thumbs up.

You chuckle and wave back at her.

She orders and sits down at the table, handing you a muffin and seems to have bought herself a cookie.

"How much do I owe you?" You ask, taking a bite of your muffin.

"My treat." She whispers, wide eyed as she bit into her cookie.

....................

"I had fun today," Jenna said happily, skipping on the pavement.

"Me too," You chuckle. "We should do this more often."

She squeals and nods.

"Definitely!"

.......................

WOW MORE TRASH!

fuckn sucks ass bro

its okay tho because im 13 and suck at this shit.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

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Playing Pretend (Part 4)

A afternoon of polo brings out some people's competitive side.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.9k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of champagne, me not knowing a damn thing about polo, tension & pining & being oblivious

A/N: Oops, finished this faster than I expected, hope no one minds too much! 😘

Series Masterlist

The disgust on Roy’s face was nothing short of comical.

“Polo? They’re playing fucking polo? Fucking rich people.”

You smiled and shook your head at him. “You don’t have to play, Roy. It’s usually just Jim’s cousins and some uncles. The rest of us just sit around and drink champagne and eat sandwiches and cookies. Absolute Downton Abbey shit. Jim’s family always play at big events. It’s actually kind of fun.” You poked Roy in the stomach playfully. “Especially because Jim sucks at riding. There’s a good chance we see him fall of his horse.”

“Fuck it. I’m in.”

The two of you were sitting on the bed in your room, still clad in pyjamas, chatting about what the day would involve as early morning sunshine streamed in through the window. People would be arriving for the rehearsal dinner throughout the day, but most of Jim’s family would arrive in the morning for their polo game. Then would be the rehearsal, out in the garden where the ceremony would be held, followed by dinner in what Jim’s mum called “the big dining room”- actually a small ballroom.

As you talked, sharing a bit about Jim’s family that he’d be seeing that day, Roy felt his body relax more than he’d felt in a long time. Lounging in bed together in pyjamas, whispering in tired voices, exchanging soft laughter. It was the kind of domestic scene he found himself craving every time he saw you. He could almost picture the two of you in his own room, you wearing his old Sunderland hoodie, wrapped up in each other and sharing sleepy kisses before heading downstairs so he could make breakfast.

Instead, you rolled your eyes as you told him about a couple of Jim’s girl cousins. “Just be aware, they’ll be all over you,” you warned. “When I was dating Jim and they found out I was friends with Roy Kent, they begged me to introduce them to you because you’re sooo fit.” Your voice went mocking and high-pitched on those last two words. “I don’t think you being my fake boyfriend will change anything.” You gave him a playful shove. “Sorry, mate. You’ll have to wait until after our fake break-up to hook up with any of them.”

Roy scoffed and shook his head. “Fuck that. I’d never want to hang around anyone who shares fucking Jim’s DNA.” Resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss you, he instead poked you affectionately on the nose. “Besides, I’m not focused on anyone but you this weekend, got that?”

You smiled at Roy, again feeling safe and protected in his presence. “Roy Kent, you are my favorite person in the fucking world, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Roy smiled, ignoring the warmth in his chest as he dared to push some hair out of your face. “D’you want to shower first, or should I?”

Roy’s hand rested on your bare knee as the two of you sat outside with Jen and her husband. People were slowly making their way to where tables and umbrellas had been set up for people to hang out while some of the cousins and uncles played polo.

You turned your head and caught Roy staring at you. “What?” you whispered, wondering if you’d spilled something on the sundress you wore.

He shook his head. “Nothin’.” After a moment, he said, “Did I tell you that you look really fucking pretty today?”

Oh. He was being “boyfriend Roy”. “Roy-friend”, you thought with an internal chuckle. He was probably getting into character because Jim was approaching your table, already red in the face before the match even started.

He raised his eyebrows at Roy. “Not playing, Kent?”

Roy wrinkled his nose. “Why the fuck would I?”

“Just figured the big football star might be up for a challenge,” Jim answered, looking quite pleased with the idea that he would be out there playing, and Roy Kent would be sitting on the sidelines. “But hey, if you don’t think you could handle it…” He trailed off with a haughty shrug.

With a deep sigh, Roy sat up straight. “I don’t feel like violating my fucking contract, Jim. Not supposed to engage in anything that might get me hurt, like riding a fucking horse that doesn’t know me with a bunch of rich pricks. ’m kind of fucking valuable to my team.” His grip on your knee tightened. “So poor old Roy has to sit here with a gorgeous woman all afternoon drinking champagne and letting her feed me little fucking cookies while you’ve got your legs wrapped around a horse, which’ll be the only riding you’ll do all day.” His giant fake smile made you want to laugh. “But please, tell me more about what a wanker I am for not playing your little fucking game.”

Jim mumbled something about needing to go check on his horse before stomping off, leaving your sister and brother-in-law watching Roy with raised eyebrows.

“Seriously,” Paul commented, raising his glass in jest, “one of you is going to throw a punch before the end of this weekend, and I almost feel bad for Jim if it’s you.” Paul had made no secret of his own disdain for Jim, something Roy greatly appreciated.

Jen chimed in, “Maybe just make sure it’s after the actual ceremony. Lauren’ll have a fit if Jim’s got a black eye in the wedding pictures.” She raised her eyebrows at you sympathetically. “Especially if it’s because of you.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t be marrying her sister’s ex-boyfriend then,” you grumbled, low enough that only Roy could hear.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Will it make you feel better to feed me cookies like I said?” he asked, his low voice full of teasing. “It’ll look fucking adorable. Everyone’ll think we’re absolutely insufferable.”

You cracked a smile. “Insufferable sounds fun.” You picked a biscuit off the plate Roy had loaded with sweets before sitting down. “Open up, Kent.”

Roy did as he was told, holding your gaze as he opened his mouth. Your fingers lightly brushed against his lips as he took a bite, sending a jolt of electricity to your heart. Even with all the fake kisses you’d been exchanging, you were still surprised to feel how fucking soft Roy’s lips were. He laughed softly as he finished chomping on the biscuit, leaving a couple little crumbs on his beard that you couldn’t resist wiping away with your thumb. As you pulled back, his hand caught your wrist. Still watching you with an intensity that made your jaw slack ever-so-slightly, he turned his head and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to the palm of your hand.

You were right, Roy thought. Insufferable was fun.

He loved the way you giggled when he kissed your hand. It lit up your entire face, especially your eyes. That was probably his favorite thing about this whole fucking weekend: seeing the joy on your face when he made you laugh, giving you a small distraction from whatever other feelings you were having.

“Hey,” he murmured as the polo players got ready to start. “I know this isn’t the most ideal of circumstances but…” He shrugged. “I’m having a fucking good time with you. Some of the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

“Me, too,” you admitted, noticing the way he still held your hand by his face. “I always have a good time with you, Roy.”

He opened his mouth to tell you that he always had a good time with you too, that maybe the two of you could have a good time together when you got home, maybe at a restaurant, and he could wear a tie and you could wear this dress because it was driving him fucking mad, and he could pay for dinner and maybe give you a real kiss when he walked you home after, when the sound of cheering interrupted the two of you; the game was starting. You could see Roy’s jaw clench and his eyes narrow at Jim.

Huh. You never did find out why Roy hated him so much. You just knew that when you’d started bringing Jim around, Roy got even moodier than usual. You’d asked his sister several times about it, figuring he’d had to have said something to her, but she never quite gave a straight answer: Jim’s too posh for his taste, he looked at Roy funny one time, he mentioned being a casual Arsenal supporter, he ate the last kebab at a party. But none of it made sense; he’d rolled his eyes the very moment you walked into that pub holding Jim’s hand, ready to introduce your new boyfriend to your best friends.

“Roy?”

His mouth curved into a smile at the sound of his name. “Hmm?”

You tilted your head, wondering how to ask. Better just say it. No use being timid with someone as blunt as Roy. “Why did you hate Jim so much? When we were dating, I mean?”

Roy’s eyes flickered to Jen and Paul, who were watching the match and chatting. “Obviously it’s because I was in love with you,” he blurted awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Right?”

You leaned closer, whispering in his ear. “No, I mean, like really. As my friend, not my ‘boyfriend’.” You raised your eyebrows expectantly.

In all the years you’d known Roy Kent, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him squirm until now. “Dunno,” he murmured, absently stroking your hand with his thumb. “Guess I just… didn’t think he fucking deserved you.” He finally looked you in the eye. “Honestly, no one deserves you. You’re the fucking best.”

Fucking Roy. Every now and then he’d say something like that- very sweet, almost loving things. Things that gave you a glimmer of hope that maybe he might see you as something other than just his sister’s best friend or the little girl he used to play with in the garden when he was a boy. But then you’d remember that that little boy grew up to be Roy Kent. And you’d feel lucky to just be friends with him- even though it sometimes made your heart ache.

“You’re sweet,” you managed, turning your attention to the polo game, pretending like watching your almost-in-laws ride their horses was suddenly interesting. “You’ve always been sweet to me.”

He gave your hand a squeeze and followed your gaze. “You’ve always been easy to be sweet to,” he said simply. After a long pause, he spoke again. “Feed me another cookie?”

You choked back a laugh and held up the plate to him. “Feed me one at the same time. It’ll be the most obnoxious thing in the world.”

A grin spread across his face as he grabbed a sweet, one he knew you liked. “You’re fucking brilliant.”

After the polo game (during which Jim fell twice, much to Roy’s delight), most people lingered on the lawn while the players disappeared into the house to shower. Jen and Paul excused themselves to go inside so they could FaceTime your nephew, who was with Paul’s mum.

You and Roy exchanged eyerolls when Lauren jumped into Jim’s arms in a particularly show-offish manner, squealing loud enough to get everyone’s attention, as if he’d won the world championship or something, rather than lost a game against his aging uncles.

“Should have you run out onto the pitch like that after a match sometime and snog me in front of everyone,” Roy mumbled without thinking. He froze and looked at you, his thick eyebrows arched. “If you wanted to, I mean.”

“That actually sounds fun,” you laughed, hoping you sounded casual. “Yeah, if you ever get sick of having gorgeous models run into your arms, I’d be happy to fill in. Getting plenty of practice this weekend.” Trying to prove that kissing Roy Kent was not a big deal, you leaned forward and touched your lips to his quickly.

He knew his face was tinted pink. “I actually think I am sick of the whole model thing,” he admitted. “So maybe I will have to ask you to sub in sometime.” His voice was light, a sharp contrast to the heavy pressure he suddenly felt in his chest.

“Oh.” That was all you could say. Roy was tired of models and actresses and the gorgeous women who hung around him? What the fuck did that mean? Before you could ask Roy more about it, one of your uncles came up to say hello, shaking Roy’s hand with enthusiasm and asking him about the upcoming season. Taking advantage of the opportunity to escape those brown eyes you kept reminding yourself not to get too lost in, you excused yourself to find a free restroom.

While rounding the corner into an empty hall, you found yourself alone, for the first time all weekend, with Jim, still in his polo clothes.

“Hey,” you greeted, offering an awkward wave. “Good job, uh, polo-ing out there. Hope your arse is okay from those falls you took.”

To your surprise, Jim snorted. “Bit surprised you saw anything with your face attached to Roy Kent’s,” he replied sharply.

You shrugged with a shy chuckle. “Hey, like Roy said last night, we’re in that dreadful all-over-each-other phase. Not nearly as much fun to watch as it is to participate, unfortunately for all of you.”

“I’m sure.” He folded his arms, giving you a hard stare. “So, you and Roy.”

“Me and Roy,” you repeated with a firm nod.

Jim sighed, shaking his head. “You know, I always thought the two of you-”

You sneered, knowing exactly what he was about to say. “Oh, save it. Nothing ever happened between us when you and I were together. He was just a friend. I always told you that.”

“Yeah, but all those times you hung out-”

“Sorry, where’d you meet your bride-to-be?” you snapped, eyebrows raised. “Oh, right, the first Christmas I brought you home to meet my family.” You shook your head. “If anyone should be asking that question, it’s me.”

Jim scoffed. “Hey, don’t you dare-”

“Oi.” You whipped around. Roy stood at the end of the hallway, eyebrows furrowed as he observed you carefully. “There a fucking problem here?”

You quickly shook your head, making your way over to him. “Nope. Just telling Jim that we enjoyed the polo match.”

Roy’s arm wrapped around your waist tightly, protectively. “Oh, yeah. Fucking loved it. Do people usually fall off their horse twice? Or does that take special skill that only a seasoned player like yourself can achieve?”

“Oh, fuck off, Kent. Go kick around a football or something,” Jim mumbled as he yanked open one of the doors, slamming it behind him.

Once the hall quieted, Roy pulled you into a proper hold, one hand on each of your hips. “You alright? Fuck was that about?”

You shrugged, letting your body melt into his as your hands rested on his arms- arms you always spent far too much time thinking about. “Just Jim being Jim.”

“And what does that entail?” He smirked. “Besides being a massive twat, of course.”

A snort flew out of your nose. Roy thought it was adorable. “Oh, just once again accusing me and you of fooling around behind his back because he saw us kissing during the polo match.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “He knows you’re not the sister he’s marrying tomorrow, right? I mean, I know the man was a fucking idiot-”

You shook your head, now completely holding back laughter. “When he and I dated, I mean,” you clarified, trying to ignore the fact that Roy Kent was holding you and making you laugh like it was the most natural thing in the world. “He was always accusing you of being interested in me.” You gazed up at Roy through your lashes, unaware of the way it made his heart skip a beat, although he swore you had to feel it with the way your bodies were pressed together. “Silly, innit?”

The words caught in Roy’s throat. No, not silly at all. He was completely right, the fucking wanker. I was in love with you. Still fucking am. Probably always will be. That’s why I hate him- because he had you. Because he knows what it’s like to have you love him back. And that’s the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.

Instead, he gave an awkward little laugh. “Oh. Ha. Fucking idiot.” He swore he saw your face fall for a fraction of a second. “Jim, of course. Not you.” Roy lifted a hand to cradle your face. “Never you,” he promised in that reassuring voice you always believed.

The two of you stood there for a long moment, holding each other, neither quite sure what to say. There was an electricity in the air that you were both too scared to bring attention to, although you could both feel each other’s heart beat just a bit faster. You were both thinking the same thing: What if I’m wrong? What if I’m imagining it? What if I’m the biggest idiot in the world?

But fuck, what if I’m right?

Before either of you could decide what to do, the chiming of a nearby grandfather clock brought you both back to reality.

“We should go change for the rehearsal dinner,” you whispered, realizing you’d been holding your breath.

Roy nodded. “Yeah. We should.” Reluctantly, he let go of you, ready to head back to your room, suddenly too shy to grab your hand.

To his surprise and absolute delight, you reached out and grabbed it yourself.

#roy kent playing pretend #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

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jennifer-jeong · 2 months

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NAVIGATION <3 REQUEST STATUS + ABOUT ME + RULES + MASTERLISTS + TAGS

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Thank you for your requests, comments, reblogs, etc. they're so sweet ): I'm glad you guys like my writing enough to interact 🥰❤️ Also thank you for 200+ followers!!! I never expected to garner any sort of following so thank you! I hope I can continue to put out content that you guys enjoy

ABOUT ME

Hi there! Thanks for stopping by! I write silly fanfictions sometimes when I'm procrastinating. I only joined Tumblr recently as a writer and it's honestly been so much fun especially because of all of you! I also post my fics on AO3 but I'm more active here!

I will eventually link to a post listing all my interests that you can request fics from or just learn more about me LOL

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Likes, reblogs, and any interactions are always appreciated!

Requests are open! Send in anything for headcanons, drabbles, SFW, NSFW, etc.

I try to fill requests as quickly as my ideas flow and sometimes that'll be less than a week and sometimes it will be more. I want to put out quality content so please be patient with me!

Feel free to ask me anything other than requests! You can talk to me about fics, fandoms, being mutuals, or even just about life!

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I write both SFW and NSFW/18+ content and all characters I write about are 18+.

I put content warnings on all my fics, please refer to them before reading.

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moralesluvr · 1 year

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CABIN FEVER | SR

♡ pairings & aus : fem!reader x spencer reid

♡ summary: after jj plans a cabin trip for a group getaway, you unexpectedly have to share a cabin with spencer reid (who you aren't exactly very fond of), leading to a night of surprises and confessions.

♡ warnings: fluff, stupid spencer being mean, pining, two characters being hopelessly in love yet oblivious

♡ a/n: well HELLO!!!! its been like what....five months since i've written? crazy, i know! anyways i wanted to start writing for my darlings in the bau so here's a new fic! i hope you enjoy <;3

♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

You'd like to say that you were a nice person. You got along with everyone, and you were always cordial to those that you weren't exactly close with, or even friends with, for that matter. However, this rule applies to everyone except one person- that person being Spencer Reid.

You didn't exactly hate him- no, never, but the two of you were always butting heads. He was witty and often had to make a smart or stupid comment about everything, even when the circumstances were far from humorous, and you knew he did it just to annoy you. The both of you had worked in the BAU together for years, and he was tolerable as long as the both of you were in the field, totally focused in on the task at hand. But any other time? Gosh, he could really be annoying.

JJ was one of your best friends from the BAU, and she had recently planned a camping trip for everyone to go on- just to get away for a little bit. And of course, despite you knowing that Spencer was definitely going to be there, you accepted the invite and began packing your bags.

It was Sunday, and you'd be staying for four days, so you packed one extra of everything, just to be careful. You grabbed your keys and other necessities and got into your car, typing the address into your GPS and cutting the radio on.

You're happily jamming out to your shuffled playlist when JJ's contact name flashes against your radio screen, and you click answer as you smile, "Hey, JJ! What's up?"

"Don't kill me," she starts, and that immediately starts to worry you. You sigh as she finishes her sentence, and you can hear the sincerity in her voice, "So...I accidentally under booked the cabins. There was supposed to be one for each person, but we're one short so..."

Your lips immediately flatten out as you sigh, "Please don't tell me I have to share with you know who."

JJ pouts on the other side of the line. "I'm sorry, I really am. He's not that bad-"

"Jen! He is terrible!" You protest, your GPS telling you that you're twenty five minutes away. "He's so annoying and he's always making fun of me."

"I know, love, I really am sorry. Do you think you can you deal for just four days?"

You give her a groan, but you know you can do it, so you agree to room with him. JJ claps on the other side of the phone and you can practically hear her smile in her voice, "I owe you one, Y/N! I love you!"

"Love you too," you grumble, clicking the red decline button as you turn your radio back up. Would it really be that bad to room with Spencer? Who knows, maybe the two of you might get along? He was kind of cute...

You shake your head to get rid of your absurd thoughts. He was your co-worker and your literal insufferable, built-in nemesis, plus, he was a couple years older than you- which was embarrassing, because you were way more mature than him.

Almost thirty minutes pass until you pull into the lots of the cabins, the private residence beautifully decorated with vanilla colored decor and a bunch of land and activities set up outside. You spot Penelope and Emily roasting marshmallows by a bonfire, and you immediately get out of your car and lock it, joining them. Emily immediately jumps up to hug you, "Y/N! Hi!"

Penelope hugs you from the other side and you smile against them both, "Hello my loves!"

The three of you sit down and occupy yourselves with busy conversation until you hear a familiar voice, the same annoying, excruciating one that you hate.

Spencer.

He's being a usual chatterbox, talking Morgan's ear off, and you're glad that he doesn't spot you. A couple of more cars pull up and you assume that they're JJ, Hotch, and Rossi. You feel a pair of arms come at your waist and you instantly recognize your best friend, "JJ!"

She hugs you and you hug her back, your eyelashes fluttering as you smile. "Missed you."

You're catching up with a lot of the team members, and everyone gathers around the fire as they make themselves snacks and s'mores. You feel a presence next to you and you're awfully confused until you look over, and your jaw immediately clenches.

"Don't even think about it." You hiss at Spencer, who just gives you a warm smile, "Think about what?"

He's playing dumb, and you give it twenty minutes before he starts acting a fool.

And you were right. He's just talking away and making jokes and they would've been funny if all of them weren't about you. He loved to pick on you for a reason that you could never quite fathom, and it was starting to get a little bothersome. Everyone's laughing, though, and some of the jokes make your lips curl upwards until he makes one that you wish you didn't hear. Somehow, the topic of respect was brought up, and Spencer had said that the only reason people respected you was because you could never "look down" on anyone. And at first, you didn't get the joke, until you realized it was about your height.

You rose up from the log that you were sitting on and pushed the door open to your cabin, throwing yourself on the bed as a tear slipped from your eyes. It wasn't anything to cry about- maybe you were just being sensitive, but you had enough of his stupid jokes that were always targeted against you. You silently let the tears fall until you heard the door swing open, and you immediately dry your eyes. You look over to see who it is, and you nearly cry when you realize it's Spencer.

"I'm sorry," he starts, and for the first time, he actually sounds sincere. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I just thought we had that kind of relationship where we could make fun of each other."

Now you feel bad. Not because you're crying or because you're hurt, but because maybe- just maybe, you had gotten Spencer and your relationship with him all wrong. He notices that you're crying and his eyes soften, "Y/N, please say something."

"I'm fine," you wave it off, "It's okay. I'm just gonna get ready for bed."

You grab your belongings and walk into the bathroom, where you shower and slip on a pair of yellow pajamas. You tie up your hair in a ponytail and pad out back to the king-sized bed, and you groaned lightly when you realized that you'd have to share it with Spencer tonight. After his joke, you weren't sure if you wanted to even see him.

He's already in bed, and his hair is wet- so you assume that he took a shower at another one of the boys' cabin. He's reading, his glasses laying on the tip of his nose while his book rests in his lap. He's shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of fuzzy socks and green sweatpants, and he actually looks kind of...cute.

Pull it together, Y/N.

You climb in on the other side and roll over, climbing underneath the covers and turning the lamp off.

"Good night, Y/N." Spencer says, turning his own lamp off and setting his glasses on the night stand as he sinks into the peeled sheets of the bed.

"Night..." you murmur, but you can't sleep. It's too cold and you're too lazy to get out of bed to turn on the heater, and plus, all of Spencer's shifting is keeping you from even falling into a small doze.

"Spence?" You call out, and he rolls over to face you. It's dark, so he can't see you, and your noses slightly bump as you turn onto your side. He laughs, and you laugh too, and for the first time, he isn't being absolutely insufferable.

"I can't sleep," you whisper, and he whispers back that he can't sleep either.

"Hey," you start, "I'm sorry I was such a jerk to you. You always just made those jokes and I deflected because...well, if you couldn't tell, I don't handle those things well." You laugh airily, and your eyes ache a little when Reid reaches over to turn the lamp on.

He's so cute. His curls are damp, some of them messily dried around his face. His nose has a little red indent from where his glasses were sitting, and you find it adorable as you smile.

God, what was happening? Were you catching feelings for Spencer?

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, "I was the one that was being a jerk, I constantly made fun of you and made jokes without ever realizing that you weren't okay with it," Spencer says, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, It's all good now." You whisper, smiling.

"You're really pretty."

What did he just say?

"Huh?" You ask, dumbfounded and a little nervous.

"You're...I said that you're really pretty." Spencer repeats, and you want to ask him to say it again, just to be sure. But you don't, you just reply, shaken, "T-Thank you. You're pretty too."

"I'm pretty?" He asks, a little confused, and you nod, blushing.

"Pretty boy." You smile.

"Pretty girl," he whispers, and you realize how close your faces are when you feel his warm breath fan against your face. He smells of autumn and cookies and all things warm, and your skin tingles with excitement as his lips graze over yours lightly before kissing you. The kiss is sweet, and you feel his hand snake around your waist underneath the covers as his other hand cups your cheek. You melt, and your smile breaks the kiss, "Oh my Lord."

Spencer smiles and rolls over, turning off the lamp before pulling you in by your waist, his head buried in the crook of your neck, "Goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight, pretty boy." You smile, your eyes fluttering shut as you drift off to sleep.

#❝*⁀➷ gabbis.works #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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fimmiesthinker · 11 months

Text

I would - huh yunjin x fem!reader

sypnosy: "i’m sorry" why was that so hard to say back then? Now, no matter how much I yell, you can’t hear me.

TW: major character death, suicide, swearing

tags: angst, bandmates au, kinda inspired by the anime 'given'

"jen im not so sure-"

"wait listen to me" you feel her grabbing your hand, yunjin knowing very well the act will grab your attention as she repeats her words again.

"it's not a big deal, you know two of the band members already. we are just needing a temporary singer, and you know you sing really well y/n. it'll be fun, i promise" her thumb was moving softly against your hand.

the premise was you being the singer for yunjin's band. you knew it wasn't something big she always said the band is a hobby, but growing up with yunjin you know how serious and passionate she is about music. how she dedicates her time writing songs and learning how to play new instruments, that side of hers always fascinated you.

as for you, you didn't had the talent like yunjin have with instruments but between karaoke dates you two had, your 'signing in the shower ability' managed to impress yunjin and since then she always compliment you for it.

even if yunjin says it isn't something big, you couldn't help it but to feel hesitant, what if you let her down? if you don't match the energy of the others what will happen?

"babe, hey look at me" your nervous habit of you chewing your lips didn't go unnoticed by yunjin, she gets closer, her warm hands touching your cheeks. "im not saying you have to, i-"

"i accept" you interrupt her "i.. i can be the singer. yeah, i will" your words make the expression of yunjin go to worry to excitement.

"really??" she hugs you tightly after you nod your head "oh my god, woah, im so glad, i swear I'm going to compensate you after" yunjin says and starts to shower your face with kisses "you're the best, thank you" the happiness of her actions makes you believe that you won't regret accepting that offer.

—

"remind me again why are we at the beach in this godly weather" you huff in frustration, hugging yunjin's warm jacket against your body more closely.

yunjin laughs at you and twirls around before answering "you said you never came here before!! it's pretty look at the scenery, like 'woah' right? and it isn't that cold too.." she continues, a shiver of cold running through her body soon after her words.

"jen summer is literally in two month, could've we waited?? you're a menace i swear" you complain again. of course the horizon was pretty, the ocean was calm and the day was near it ending, making the sky get a pretty orange color, but a cold breeze after another makes the beautiful moment ruined to you.

yunjin sudden sneeze makes you frown worried "yeah it is freezing, 'woah' my ass, can we go home now?" she grumbles, rubbing her arms to warm her own self. you roll your eyes at her antics and push her away lightly "dumbass, it was your idea"

"uh-huh, and i'm proud of it. now you won't forget i was the first one who brought you here, even if it was freezing cold." yunjin announces, pointing at herself proudly.

"uhm, i would remember it even better without this cold"

"yeah, you'll definitely forget this"

—

the first practice didn't go as bad as you imagined, the easy going vibe of the girls made you relaxed enough to sing confidently.

yunjin was waiting for your exit and talking to the girls of the band, getting to her side you intertwining your hands with yunjin, the taller girl smiles and press a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"hey we are going to hang out at chaewon house, do you want to go? we usually try to write lyrics but mainly is just because aunt kim cooks really well so we just eat good dinner for free" she explains happily and you see chaewon shaking her head at yunjin's words.

you stare a moment at yunjin who stares back at you confusedly. you take a few steps back pulling yunjing by the hand, just enough to make sure the others wouldn't listen

"yun..didn't we agree in making dinner together at my house today? you who suggested it, as a date"

"oh.." yunjin blinks, thrown off guard by not remembering that. "i mean, we can make it another day, no? like, we will eat for free. effortlessly. can't be better than that right?"

you stay quiet for a moment, a ache in your heart burning. what yunjin didn't knew was that you already had the dinner ready since the morning, excited to try the new recipe you made it ahead of time. but at that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to tell yunjin that.

her name being called by the bandmates pressured you to answer her question, her expectant gaze always making way to convince you of everything.

you sigh internally in defeat, putting a smile that didn't reach your eyes, you agree to yunjin. who didn't press any further and started to make her way towards chaewon's house with you.

—

as a kid yunjin was always full of energy, jumping and running around on the residential playground was her favorite thing to do. even if she was the only kid there, the neighborhood didn't had too many kids, and the ones it had yunjin didn't meet as much since her school had a different schedule.

so when she saw the little you, quietly sitting under a tree, she was surprised. and she was so happy when you agreed to be her friend, her 'pretty friend' she said to you. yunjin still thinks you agreed because of the candy she gave you that day.

growing up, yunjin liked even more to spend time with you. she was older by two years but yunjn admired how you didn't back down with her playful nature, there was a unspoken understanding between you two that by being in each other company was enough to have fun.

when yunjin realized she had fallen in love with you, wanting to be more then just friends. she surpressed it over months, afraid to take the risk and change the dynamic between you two.

when yunjin confessed, you never had seen her looking so different.

she was mixing her words and shifting her feet anxiously, waiting for your answer, she still looked hopeful as ever.

and even if you wanted to deny her and say you didn't felt the same, it was impossible, you didn't want to see her disappointed in you.

you didn't want to see yunjin looking at you the same way your mother looked when you denied something.

you didn't want the treatment you mother gave you that time when you refused something.

you learned from your mother to not deny the older ones, so you couldn't deny yunjin, right?

so as always, you accept yunjin words, and the pretty smile and warm hug yunjin gave you back told you you choose it right.

—

waiting for yunjin to pick you up after class was a common thing for you. it was the perfect time for you two to spend time together and talk about how was the day.

you were specially excited for today because yunjin said she was going to compensate for not being able to spend much time with you recently, you admired how she was focusing between her work and writing new songs to the band since you guys had a performance coming at the end of the month. you understood it all, but why she was so late?

thirty minutes had pass since you texted her to pick you up, two missed calls. when you called again at the third time, after ten seconds and at the last moment, yunjin picked up.

"jen -"

"y/nnie!! babe, heyy." a bunch of loud noises coming from the call made you wince and move the phone away from your ear, distincted loud music and muffled voices could be heard coming from the line.

"where are you yun?.. are you coming to pick me up" the noises coming from yunjin line told you the situation probably wasn't going to happen, but you asked anyway, already chewing on your lips nervously.

"what? i'm.." sudden words could be heard and the audio got muffled for a moment "babygirl hey, sorry for the noises. hm, I.. can we talk later? I'll pass by your apartment, how about that? I'm really sorry to not picking you up today, just called a cab to you by the way. but the boss invited everyone to drink and you know how it goes.. " despite the muffled noises in the background, yunjin sounded more clear this time, a tone in her voice you couldn't catch, but it was enough to reassure you. sighing in defeat you knew you didn't had too much choices, so you agreed in meeting her later.

but when you heard the soft knocks on your door few hours later, a discomfortable feeling took hold in you.

"you could've told me you weren't going to pick me up." you grumble after yunjin move back from the hug, which you barely returned.

"what?"

"you.. didn't answered me and I was there. waiting. for a second I thought something had happen but" you scoff in disbelief "when you picked up you sounded like having fun and.. i just.. can't believe it. was it hard to just text me back for a second?" you finish. sounding bitter and clearly upset, even if your intention wasn't blaming on yunjin, you couldn't help at the bite and accusation in your voice.

for a moment, the apartment became silent. yunjin stared back at you blankly. her expression shifted from confusion to anger as she processed your words.

"you know how I hate to wait for these things yunjin, we've barely seen each other this week. why didn't you just said n-"

"ooh ho, yeah, because just from one minute the princess can't wait, and wants everything by her rules." yunjin bites back, obviously annoyed.

"what?? my rules? i do everything you say yunjin, haven't you noticed? and when I ask for it you-"

"yeah yeah, if you knew how stressed i have been through the week. you have done nothing. if I say to you die for me you certainly wouldn't y/n." you scoff in amusent at yunjin's words, not believing what she just had said.

"go to your house yunjin. I don't want to fight over this" you tried your best to say it confidently but it came out so fragile that you hated yourself because of it. yunjin was about to speak again but instead let out an exasperated sigh and walks away, leaving your apartment. and leaving you with a deafening silence and a emptiness inside.

—

what yunjin didn't know, and unfortunately discovered later. is that you always did what she asked, whatever it was.

she spent the next day feeling incredibly guilty by her action and words, she took out her frustrations all on you and she wanted nothing more than to go back to you, apologize for what she did. trying to call you wasn't working, and the sinking feeling in yunjin's heart grew with each unanswered call.

deciding to take matters into her own hands, she drove to your house, with shaky hands, yunjin opened the front door and stepped into the strangely silent house.

she called out your name, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and hope. here was no response, just a haunting silence that surrounded her.

there didn't seem to have anything out of place, the shoes you always used when going out was untouched by the entrance. scanning around the living room yunjin found nothing but a pair of beer cans scattered around, that she found strange, you didn't usually drink.

as yunjin reached your bedroom door, a sense of dread washed over her. If only she had known that her impulsive behavior would lead to this, she would have chosen her words and actions more carefully.

her eyes scanned the room, seen even more empty alcoholic drinks on the ground, and then yunjin saw you.

hanging lifelessly from the ceiling, your body swaying slightly, as if caught in the final moments of a tragic dance.

the sight struck yunjin like a lightning bolt, freezing her in place. time seemed to stand still as she took in the devastating scene before her.

and yunjin swore, that if she could go back, just for a moment. she would give her all, just to have you again. for a moment, she would have given you everything.

note: music in the sypnosy is "i would by day6". (woah angst so hard to write tbh, lmk if I missed any important tag please) remember to drink water and stay safe guys <3

#le sserafim imagines #le sserafim x reader #lesserafim x reader #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader

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petermorwood · 7 months

Text

YA or not YA, that is the question...

This started out as a response to Diane’s post here about YA literature and its long history prior to what some people think inspired it, but got longer (Oh! What a surprise!) and wandered far enough from the initial subject that I decided to post separately.

So here it is.

*****

Many years ago my town library (in Northern Ireland, so following UK library practice, I suppose) had just two sections, Adult and Children. There was no YA section, and the Children’s section covered everything from large-format picture books through to hardback novels and the usual amount of non-fiction.

(Library books were almost always bought in hardback for better wear, and even the softback picture books were rebound with heavy card inserts.)

There were classics like “Treasure Island”, “Kidnapped”, “King Solomon’s Mines” “Under the Red Robe” and “The Jungle Books”.

There were standalone titles like “The Otterbury Incident”, “The Silver Sword”, “The Sword in the Stone” and “The Stone Cage”.

There were series about characters like William, Biggles, Jennings and his counterpart Molesworth, the Moomins, Narnia and Uncle.

There were authors like Alan Garner, Nicholas Stuart Grey, Rosemary Sutcliffe, Henry Treece, Ronald Welch… And of course there was J.R.R. Tolkien.

The first time I got "The Hobbit", "Farmer Giles of Ham" and "Smith of Wootton Major" they were shelved in the Children's section. This was about 1968-69.

In the early 1970s the library moved to larger premises, which allowed room for Very Young Children (where the picture books now lived) and Children (everything else), still with no YA section, though with more advanced picture books like “Tintin” and “Asterix” * in a sort of no-man’s-land between them.

( * These included editions in the original French, which turned out very useful for making language lessons at school a bit more fun and gaining extra marks in exams through judiciously enhanced vocabulary.)

“The Hobbit” et cetera were still on the Children shelves, but now that the library was larger and more open-plan, volumes of "The Lord of The Rings", normally in the Adult section, occasionally got shelved there as well by well-meaning non-staff people.

I never saw “The Hobbit” mis-shelved alongside “Lord of the Rings” among the Adults, but Farmer Giles” and “Smith” sometimes turned up there, courtesy of those same well-meaning hands.

It’s probably because the first, with its sometimes complex wordplay and mock-heroic plot, reads like a humorous parody of more serious works, while the second, if read in the right frame of mind, can seem quite adult in the style of Sylvia Townsend Warner’s “Kingdoms of Elfin” - which is in fact a good deal more adult than “Smith of Wootton Major”, even if you squint.

*****

This “Hobbit” / “Rings” confusion is a lightweight version of assuming a particular author writes every book for the same age-group. This is very much not the case.

Sometimes the thickness of the book is a giveaway. Compare, for instance, @neil-gaiman’s “American Gods” with “Coraline” or indeed “Fortunately, The Milk”.

Sometimes the cover is a hint, for example the difference between “Live and Let Die” by Ian Fleming...

...and “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”, also by Ian Fleming...

...although the original James Bond novels are – apart from some extremely dated attitudes – a lot more weaksauce than many YA books nowadays.

(More weaksauce still now that Fleming, like Roald Dahl and Agatha Christie, has been censored to conceal the extent to which - let's call them Certain Attitudes - were a standard feature in British popular fiction. Apparently (I haven't read any Newspeak Bond so can't confirm) the redaction was done in a curiously slapdash way, removing some things while leaving others.

These novels have become, IMO anyway, period pieces as much as Kipling, Doyle, Dickens and Austen, and erasure probably has less to do with sensitivity - maybe with some "brush it under the rug and they'll forget about it" involved - than with keeping them marketable, so Fleming doesn't go the way of other once-bestselling writers like "Sapper" and Sydney Horler.)

It would also be a mistake, despite advisory wizards Tom and Carl, to think that @dduane’s “Young Wizards” books are meant for the same age-group as her “Middle Kingdoms” series – although, once again, the later YW books and all of the MK slot into what a modern YA audience expects from its fiction.

But sometimes there’s absolutely no doubt that This Book by This Author is not meant for the readership of That Book by The Same Author. I’m thinking of one example which caused a certain amount of amusement.

“Bee Hunter” by Robert Nye is a retelling of the Beowulf story for children, though IIRC occasional bloody episodes as Grendel takes Hrothgar’s housecarls apart make it more suited to older children.

I’d brought home a copy from the library when much younger, and borrowed it again years later in company with another Nye novel, “Falstaff”...

...which was poetic, historic, melancholic, often bawdy, frequently funny and at all times most emphatically NOT for children, as indicated by some of these chapter headings - I draw your attention to XX, XXII, XXXII and especially XL... ;->

Yes. Quite... :->

*****

I was familiar with card index systems from quite early in my life, because my grandfather’s grocer’s shop had a fairly simple one for keeping track of customers, suppliers, stock and so forth, and since the library’s index card system cross-referenced in the same way, I was already home and dry.

If I could remember a title, I'd find the author, and once found I could track down other titles by that author (which, as shown above, can be educational...) Even if I could only remember the subject - historical, adventure, comedy - I'd still have narrowed my search window more than somewhat.

(This from-here-to-there mindset later became virtual train travel by way of the electronic timetables which SBB – Swiss Railways – used to issue on CD, and which let me “travel” anywhere in Europe, complete with a map. Those CDs are long discontinued, but I can still do virtual travel courtesy of the SBB website. Complete with a map…)

This is the last one we got, kept for sentimental reasons and occasional outdated train-travel on an equally outdated XP netbook.

As you do.

Or as I do, anyway. :->

*****

I also knew about title request cards and interlibrary loans, and was a frequent user - never more so than when I started reading “The Lord of the Rings” for the first time.

The town library didn’t have all three volumes, just “The Fellowship of the Ring” and “The Two Towers”, so I checked them out on a Friday to read over the weekend.

You can already see where this is going… :->

I finished “Fellowship” late on Saturday afternoon, went straight into “Towers” and by Sunday evening was all of a twitter (no, not that one) or as my mum would have said, up to high Doh, as I fretted about Not Knowing What Happened Next.

Fortunately school was no more than a brisk bike ride from the library, so I devoted my Monday morning break to zooming down and filling in one of the most urgent title requests I’ve ever made, then spent the rest of the week on tenterhooks, looking in every lunchtime and each afternoon on my way home.

Just In Case.

Some kindly librarian must have pulled strings or stamped the request "Expedite Soonest", because when I went back to school after Thursday lunch, I had “The Return of the King” burning a hole in my saddlebag.

I wanted to start reading it at once, but good sense prevailed; imagine getting caught between chapters at the back of a boring Geography lesson and Having The Book Confiscated…

I didn’t pay much attention in class on Friday, due to being half-asleep after starting “Return” in the evening after prep and finishing it in the wee hours of the morning.

But being tired didn’t prevent me from starting with “Fellowship” again on Friday night, and this time being able to read right through to the end without needing to stop.

It Was Great…

#YA books #library age categories #library use #don't judge a book by its cover #don't judge an age group by author #anecdotage

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hannahssimblr · 1 month

Text

Night descends upon us and yet, as usual, the stars don’t shine brightly the way that they did last summer when our bonfire roared under clear, sparkling skies. I think of that night now as I sit on a patch of cool earth in the dunes above Dollymount Strand surrounded by rusting cans and the sun-bleached wrappers of discontinued chocolate bars.

I remember the balmy air of late July, how I didn't even heed it until now when the night is still too cold to sit out in yet we all pretend it isn't. Anyway, it’s too late to point it out to the crowd that's already gathered here, drinking and playing music from a speaker that crackles every time the bass gets too loud, so I sit as close as I can to the flames without climbing into the pit with them, and let their heat lick over my skin.

I share a few beers with a big, severe looking boy next to me for a while. He's got silver spikes protruding from his lip, and high cheek bones that make his face look kind of gaunt and hollow like a Tim Burtonesque character. We called him Lurch at school, because he’s also about six foot five and rake thin, but tonight I learn that Lurch’s real name is Rob, and actually, Rob is a very nice person.

He talks to me about music for ages, about his drum kit and how the neighbours keep complaining to his parents about the noise. I tell him that I’ve always wished I was musical but I have absolutely no sense of rhythm. I’m kind of a loser like that, despite my dreams of being that guy with the guitar who impresses all the girls, but I have long since accepted that I will settle to be a humble music-recommender instead. Jen still keeps all of the silly mix tape CDs I made for her in primary school in her room, and it gives me an inexplicable sense of worthiness whenever I spot them.

Never once during my conversation with Rob do I tell him about the Lurch thing, though it crosses my mind several times. What seemed so funny once in the confines of my little group seems kind of obviously mean now, but I suppose I never took the time to think about it before.

Katie is nice too, the girl with a stammer who snorts when she laughs, which is often once she joins in our conversation, because she seems to think my stories are very funny, as does Rob, and I have to tell them not to laugh so hard because it only encourages me to put myself in more situations that might be entertaining to retell later on. They think that's funny too, but actually, I am being serious.

Still, I know they’ll love that one about the time I was using the desert as a toilet and a military helicopter flew overhead, convincing me that my great aunt’s busybody neighbour had called the FBI to report me for public urination, so I make sure to tell it in the most energetic way I can. It’s easier and way more fun to reveal embarrassing things about myself when I’m drinking, and by the time I have finished telling it, I toss my empty bottle to my feet where four others already lie. I hadn’t even realised I had drunk that much, but who cares when I feel this good.

“Jesus, you’re so funny,” Katie says once her giggles have subsided, “I can’t believe we all thought you were an arsehole.”

“You thought that?”

“Not really,” Rob assures me, “We just thought you were… like, a bit…”

“...of an arsehole,” I finish, and he’s clearly being polite so he denies it, but he shouldn’t bother, really, because I already know how I am. I'm aware of the things I’ve said and done to other kids for the sake of relieving my crushing, constant boredom, never really thinking about the consequences beyond ‘it will be funny’. Maybe I should say I’m sorry.

“Nah you’re right, I’m kind of a horrible bastard,” and I laugh at myself, which gives them permission to do so too, albeit awkwardly.

“You’re not, you’re not,” Rob assures me, “You definitely weren’t the worst of the guys in our year…”

I want to ask him who is the worst, purely for the satisfaction of hearing him say that it’s Fitzy, or Murphy or Breener or any of those other awful, rugby wanks, but I don’t because someone coming through the grass has derailed my train of thought.

“What’s she doing here?”

I have interrupted Rob and now he’s blinking in surprise as he turns to where Leah, fucking Leah, is approaching us.

“Uh, she comes to talk to Evan sometimes,” he explains, “just for like, a few minutes usually and then she heads off. Do you know her?”

“Yeah.”

I watch with a clenched jaw as she and Evan disappear into the darkness for a few minutes, and pop open a brand new beer bottle as Rob and Katie chat as I sit between them having lost all of my sense of fun in an instant. I’m also drunk, if not very much getting there judging by the slightly blurry flames that dance exotically in front of my eyes. I have a dim thought that it’s probably a good idea to stop drinking if I plan on seeing Jen later. I doubt Michelle’s parents will be too pleased if I show up steaming drunk at their door…

“Oh my God, Jude, I didn’t expect to see you here!” Leah is back and standing right over me. I don’t even bother to look up at her face, and instead just stare at her ratty Vans that I’m almost certain are the same pair she wore when we used to hang out two years ago, and they were ratty back then.

“Yep,” I say. She sits down so closely to me in the sand that I can smell her distinct, Leah smell. She doesn’t smell bad, just like an unpleasant sensory memory.

“How are you?”

I clear my throat, “Are you buying drugs from teenagers now? Is that what it’s come to?”

“Oh, I thought you already knew how Evan and I knew each other.”

“No.”

“Well, mister policeman, it’s just weed,” she pulls the baggie I saw earlier out of her jacket pocket, “We can even smoke some together now if you like.”

“Weed makes me sick.”

“I remember that! Ha!” She offers it to Rob and Katie who both decline and exchange alarmed looks over our heads.

“Are you going to sit here all night?” I ask her, and even to my own ears it’s unbelievable how rude I am to her, but I don’t care, she deserves it, and it’s not like she even seems to register my tone anyway, she’s always been completely oblivious to what people think about her. She’s that person who hangs around at the party for way too long and keeps bringing up conversations that everyone stopped talking about ages ago.

“Jude and I go way back,” Leah explains to Katie beside her, “I met him when he was, what,” a nudge to my arm, “thirteen?”

“Twelve.”

“We used to be friends, back when he was fun.”

I scowl and she drapes herself over my shoulder with an effortless laugh as though she somehow believes this is our usual banter, “I’m joking, he’s still so fun! And cute!” She tries to grab my face and I shake her off insistently so she settles for fisting a hand in the front of my sweatshirt to hold me hostage instead, “Isn’t he, though?” she presses poor, sheepish Katie who explodes in a ferocious blush. “Would you say he’s the cutest boy at school?”

“I- I don’t know,” Katie stutters.

“Well guess what! I got to be the lucky girl who took his virginity!”

I rip her off me but she comes back at me with more grabbing hands and tickling fingers, “Ooh! It’s true, isn’t it? Isn’t it Judie? Oh, isn’t it?”

I wrench her off me with finality and clamber to my feet, my heart beating, my stomach queasy, “Leave me alone, okay?” I bend down to swipe my beer bottle out of the hollow I made for it in the sand and even then she tries to touch my hair. It infuriates me. “I’m serious! Piss off!” I spit.

“Oh God, mister grumpy!” She says as I stagger around the bonfire to get away from her and everything that she represents. I’m definitely drunk now, it's in my sluggish movements, the way my eyes drift unfocussed from person to person, but being drunk is preferable to remembering Leah as vividly as I would if I were perfectly sober. Right now, it is just snippets of an evening three years ago that play through my mind. The week I turned fourteen, and the hard, frozen November ground by a swing set. The things I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to do but thought knew I should by then, and Leah, and the heat of her skin, the smell of her sweat, the hyper fixation I had on that piece of bark mulch I felt tangled in her hair which somehow became the strongest memory of all, something that I still associate with her when I feel the sharp dig of something in my palm.

When I don't see her I don't think of these things, so I circle the bonfire until she is invisible, obscured by the roaring flames and swallowed by the darkness.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #behold Leah #tw: sex mention #tw: drugs #tw: bullying

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zerozeroren · 3 months

Text

A bit of a break from my usual stuff

Context under the cut

At the tail end of 2023 a family friend decided to try out DMing and he invited me and Mr. Ren for a one-shot Lovecraft-themed campaign (that I lovingly call "The Edge of Cringe"). It was supposed to be a single-evening adventure but we took longer and finished it only recently with a second sitting. Basically we tried out DND and it was fun XD

We set off with an astounding critical failure and just kept rolling horribly (literally stumbled over each other, dropping quest items and ourselves all over the floor hurting ourselves in the process), so much so that we accidentally killed our quest giver with cringe (not an exaggeration).

My character is the hayfork lady, her name is Jen Puddington, and she's the muscle. Every time I had to roll for sanity I rolled so well, so Jane here just pokerfaced through all the horrible gore and near death experience of almost having her head bitten off, which was very in character XD

The guy with the manuscript is Mr. Ren's, Miloh Merryweather. He tried to play him like this innocent little lamb and the people person of the group, but at the end this man brutally and unremorsefully fed his own in-game cousin to the monster, sooooooooo

The last one, Professor Claudius, was the DMs wife, and she was responsible for all the chaos. She always rolled bad (the first roll of the game was hers), got caught in every trap, and by the end her character was lying in the corner in a fit of madness tied up in multiple ropes by Jen.

Anyway we banished the monster and all was well, everyone made it out fine and relatively unharmed XD

#my art stuff #dnd art #original characters #I don't know how to tag this XD #It's just stuff I made #Really got carried away with this one #apparently drawing monsters can be fun to me

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georgiapeach30513 · 5 months

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Jen, can you kindly suggest me blogs you know that genuinely love Chris Evans and their blog is about him please? 💞

side note: I'm honestly tired of those hating on him just because is in this shitshow, when before they were all ALL over him.

Most the people I interact with love to chat about Chris in a positive way. It does suck. Or if the conversation is more on his personal life, which I don’t care to talk about in the least bit. I just don’t care, and I highly doubt people care about my opinion.

I want a fun space where we can thirst and talk about his career. Is everyone going to love all his projects? No, but if you can discuss them in a positive way, i don’t have a problem with it. I’ve talked about my issues with Ghosted, but I don’t hate the movie. I’ve watched it more than once.

I’m tired of the hate, which is why I rarely drift through my dash a ton. Most the people I follow are fic writers, so it isn’t always about his career as much as his characters.

If you want more about his career both past and present @nancydrewwouldnever is a place to look.

If you want more humor @annislittleshopofhorrors and @jossipgirl

And some fic writers/fans who enjoy interacting and having fun @fenixstar @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @rainbowkisses31 are great places to look to.

And I know I missed so many! I promise that there are people who genuinely love him and just want to move past all the negativity.

#jen.ask

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phantom-of-the-501st · 1 month

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Thoughts on TBB 3x9: The Harbinger

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

Genuinely thought Cross was going fishing for a sec

Wrecker is getting so comfortable with Cross again 🥺

Batcher always knows when something is up. We should listen to the hound

WHAT DID I SAY?! LISTEN TO THE HOUND!

DON'T GO CLOSER TO THE SHIP WTF

VENTRESS!!!

Omega your lying isn't the most convincing thing...

OMEGA BE CAREFUL STOP SPILLING INFO 😭

Pffft cheerleader Wrecker!

Had a feeling that Jennifer's "weeping" tweet hasn't about crying and was maybe about some sort of tree. It appears I was right. CAN'T MAKE ME PANIC THAT EASILY, JEN

THIS COMBAT IS AWESOME 🔥

THE BATCH THEME!!! ❤️

Hunter going for the Dad™️ arms resting on knees position

Where's Echo when you need him? We need someone to manage the chaos

"How does she know we're watching?" The force, Wrecker. The force

This music is pretty 🥰

Okay maybe we got a bit too carried away with connecting with nature

The creature's kinda cute ngl

This is starting to feel like The Mandlorian 😭

I thought this episode was really fun! I'm trying to work out how much it actually advances the plot in any way but I'm going to wait 'til the end of the season to work that out. Ventress is probably going to come back and the idea of Omega needing training is likely to be relevant again. It was a fun episode but rn feels like it's dropping expositiony stuff we already know. At the same time it's stuff the characters don't know so it has it's relevance.

Annoyed that Echo has just been out to the wayside this season. We've only got 6 episodes left and he's had a significant appearance in one of the 9 that we've had so far. I really liked this episode but as an Echo fan I've been feeling kinda stranded this season. 😕

#mostly nonsensical thoughts today #mainly because I've had about 6 hours sleep #but i enjoyed this episode!#very much wondering how this show is going to be wrapped up in 6 episodes though #star wars #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers

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hobermen-archive · 8 months

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Some of my character layout on breaking purple! It's always so fun when I get to draw my faves 💜💜💜💜💜💜 (Animation Lead: Jen Dickinson 💘)

(25 Apr 2020)

#donnie #mikey #ROTTMNT #REPOST #[Wait is that why there's a cat there?]#character layout

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harveyguillensource · 11 months

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Another stunning pic of Harvey by Jen Rosenstein for a THR feature on supporting actors! He answered a few questions too:

My character summed up in one sentence He has had enough … and is taking matters into his own hands. The part of my character I relate to the most He’s a hard worker, and he loves his family and would do anything for them And the part I don’t He let people walk all over him for years … I just can’t allow it. The best note from my director [When shooting] the pilot, Taika Waititi said, “Let’s do a ‘fun run,’ ” meaning we could improv the scene. I said, “Yay, funsies!” And he said, “Yeah — funsies!” So now on set, we always have a funsies take. What a spinoff for my character might look like Buffy the Vampire Slayer — but this time it would be a queer, plus-size Latino as our hero! The last celebrity who had me truly starstruck Catherine O’Hara, and Jennifer Coolidge — with both, I was frozen in awe. My go-to snack on set This is a tough one. We shoot in the fall and winter in Canada, so I would say loukoumades (Greek donuts) with abuelita (Mexican hot chocolate) from Athens. Donuts or cookies from Craig’s, both in Toronto. The last show I binge-watched The Last of Us. The show on which I’d love to guest-star Poker Face or The Simpsons. The TV character/actor who made me want to be a performer Lucile Ball, and also Amy Sedaris in Strangers with Candy.

#harvey guillén #harvey guillen #jen rosenstein #the hollywood reporter #wwdits #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits season 5 #wwdits spoilers #june 2023 #articles

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thewayofthemandalorian · 2 years

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all’s faire - chapter one

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Summary: When your niece asks if you’ll join her in the annual summer medieval faire, you say yes. You do not expect it to be run by grumpy, surly Pero Tovar or that your faire characters will be in love with each other.

Word count: 3,689

Notes: I’m very excited for this one. It’s my first time writing modern Pero Tovar and it’s a true enemies to lovers situation. This fic is inspired by the book Well Met by Jen Deluca which is one of the best romcoms I’ve ever read. Special thanks to @ezrasbirdie for reading this over and to @lowlights for being so excited/supportive of this fic.

Comments/reblogs appreciated

Chapter warnings: Injury mention, hospital mention, reference to car accidents, swearing, enemies to lovers, child/spousal abandonment.

next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (pero tovar)

“Shit shit shit shit,” you mutter to yourself on repeat as you pull into the parking lot of Cassie’s high school. You’re almost five minutes behind schedule. Which is hard to do when you don’t have a job or any reason for being late. You’ve been running late your entire life,you suppose, so why start now?

Giving yourself a quick once-over in the pull-down mirror, you sigh, get out of your car and run into your niece’s high school.

It’s parent-teacher interview evening and your niece practically begged you to show up on time. She knows how much one of her teachers dislikes tardiness. You’re four minutes behind, you don’t think it’s the end of the world. Plus, Cassie’s a top student in almost all of her classes.

Entering the school, the school you once attended over ten years ago, the school you never thought you’d set foot in again aside from her graduation in two years’ time, you pull out the list of teachers and their corresponding classrooms. First up, English with Mr. Ballard.

You knock on the door, spotting Cassie’s English teacher sitting at the desk at the front of the room. “Hi, Mr. Ballard? I’m Cassie Miller’s aunt.” You introduce yourself. Mr. Ballard stands up and shakes your hand.

“Will, please. It’s so nice to meet you. Have a seat. How is your sister doing?”

Your sister, Cassie’s mom, was the one who is supposed to be here. Tell that to the asshole who ran a red light and t-boned her car, sending her to the hospital, where she’s been laid up for the past month. With a sigh, you nod. “She’s doing better. I think she’ll be starting physical therapy soon.”

Mr. Ballard nods in understanding. “Well, tell her we’re all thinking about her and we wish her all the best in her recovery.”

You smile again. “Thanks. I’ll be sure and do that when I call her after I’m done here.”

He looks down at his notes on the desk. “Cassie’s a great student. She’s really bright and she has a lot of great ideas. Her paper on King Lear, especially, was really insightful and well thought out. She’s a really thoughtful student. A bit shy, but that’s certainly no problem.”

You feel a small burst of pride; you’d helped edit that paper, English being the thing you went to college for. “She really enjoys herself in English. Always has. She mentioned something about an upcoming Shakespeare night project?” you ask.

Mr. Ballard nods. “Yes. I do it every year, but it’s mostly the kids who run it. It’s basically a social night for the characters of Shakespeare. It combines drama and literature and really gives them a better idea for the content.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is a lot of fun, yes. And it’s good practice for the annual medieval faire this summer; a lot of the kids from this class and the drama class that I also teach participate in that. Cassie’s especially looking forward to it; I think it might help with her shyness. She’s playing Ophelia from Hamlet.” He looks back down at his notes. “I don’t really have anything else to say. She’s a terrific student, one of the best in the class. I know it’s only April, but I’m looking forward to having her in junior year English as well.”

You grin, knowing how much Cassie enjoys Mr. Ballard’s classes. “She’s been wondering who’s going to be her English teacher next year. She’ll be excited to hear it’s you.”

Standing up, you shake Mr. Ballard’s hand again and move onto the next teacher you have to talk to. Science with Ms. Kelly. Cassie’s not mathematically or scientifically minded, much like you and her mom. But she’s pulling decent grades nevertheless. Ms. Kelly is nice, also asks about Tess. You get the feeling that you’ll be fielding a lot of questions about your sister tonight. After discussing Cassie’s grades and how she’s doing her best as well as areas where she can improve, you meet with Mrs. Roche for social studies class. It’s a stupid easy course, it always has been. Cassie barely has to do anything in it to get an A. She’s known about the government and the basics since she was nine. All the same, Mrs. Roche talks about Cassie’s enthusiasm, and also asks about Tess.

- - - -

Finally, you’re onto the last teacher. European history. Mr. Tovar. According to Cassie he’s a bit of an acquired taste. He must be the one who’s a stickler for promptness.

“Hi, Mr. Tovar. So sorry I’m late.”

Mr. Tovar barely looks up from his desk. He just grunts in acknowledgement that you’ve arrived. “I’m Cassie Miller’s aunt,” you add, crossing the threshold into his classroom. He grunts again. “I’m here in place of Tess Miller, her mom, my older sister?”

It feels like you’re talking to a brick wall. You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt intimidated by a history teacher. You open your mouth to say something more but Mr. Tovar chooses that moment to speak. “What caused you to be so late?” he asks, his voice accented.

You sputter. You aren’t even that late. What does he do when a student is late because of a doctor’s appointment or something similar? “Traffic,” you force out.

He lifts his gaze from whatever he’s deemed to be more important than you and your niece’s grades (which you think is rude in and of itself). “I don’t usually make exceptions for lateness, but given that you don’t know me and my rules — something Cassandra should have noted to you — and there are extenuating circumstances, given your sister’s accident, I will proceed. Please, have a seat.”

Wow. Cassie really was being diplomatic when she said that Mr. Tovar is an acquired taste. Acquired taste, your ass. This guy is a total asshole. Grumpy and surly and brusque. “Well, since you said please,” you snark to yourself. “Prick,” you mutter under your breath.

If Mr. Tovar hears, he makes no indication. Not that he made any indication that he heard you just a few moments ago.

He looks at you square in the eyes. He has a scar on the left side of his face that is interrupted by his eye. Dark brown hair with a patchy mustache and beard to match. His eyes are brown, too. If he wasn’t such a jerk, you might say he’s handsome. “Cassandra is a very bright girl. Very smart. Always on time, always well-researched assignments. She asks the right questions, always gives all her effort. Her paper on the crusades was well-written and had insightful commentary.”

You weren’t expecting such high praise from such a grumpy man.

“However…” You have to bite back a groan. “Her presentation skills are somewhat lacking.”

“What does that mean?” You helped her with her last presentation prep three weeks ago.

Mr. Tovar searches for the right words. “She stutters a lot, stumbles over words. It makes her sound unprepared and I know she knows the material she is presenting.”

“Well, Mr. Tovar,” you start, protective aunt mode fully activated now. “Cassie is shy. And she has social anxiety. Presenting things makes her nervous; hell, it makes pretty much everyone nervous. And wouldn’t you be too if you had to present to a bunch of fifteen and sixteen year olds?”

Mr. Tovar rolls his eyes. “I already do that on a daily basis. I was only suggesting —” You don’t care to hear his suggestion. It registers in your mind and you will tell Cassie what he says, but you don’t care for this man. At all. He’s been nothing but rude and surly and cantankerous and he clearly doesn’t care. The sooner you’re out of his vicinity, the better. “All in all, with a few improvements aside, she is a good student.”

Why did this man become a teacher? How has no one complained to the principal or the board? You don’t hear any passion in his words like you did with Ms. Kelly or with Mr. Ballard. Mr. Tovar didn’t offer his first name. The only reason you know it — Pero, you think it is — is because it’s written on Cassie’s report card that came home two days ago, that was all A’s. You have no need to know his name. You will never see this man again. And that will be entirely too soon, you think, based on this one interaction with him.

“Prick,” you mutter to yourself again as you shut the door forcefully behind you, not knowing or caring if he hears you. As you mutter to yourself, you walk past a poster advertising the annual medieval faire outside his classroom. Of course the worst teacher was saved for the last. And if he’s complaining about Cassie’s presentation when she’s enthusiastic, you can only wonder what his comments will be to Troy Batson’s parents. Troy is the student that’s in every class. The one who’s only there because he’s supposed to be. Cassie’s told many stories about him about how he doesn’t do the work and hardly ever submits his assignments on time. Apparently Mr. Tovar got so angry with him one day that he kicked him out of class for not taking it seriously. As much as you don’t like this Mr. Tovar guy, you kind of want to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.

Maybe that’s why he was in such a mood. Or maybe he’s just a miserly grump who happens to be handsome in a rugged way.

It’s always the tragically handsome ones that are the biggest assholes. At least that’s been your experience. Oh, well. You never have to see the guy again.

- - - -

A month passes. Your sister is discharged from the hospital with a boot cast and a prescription for pain medication. She has to go to physio three times a week. The doctors are optimistic that she’ll make a full recovery.

You’ve been staying with them for the past three months, helping with taking care of Cassie and making sure there’s someone there for Tess when she gets out of the hospital. Cassie is a great kid, but she’s only barely sixteen. There’s only so much she can do. And she needs to still be a teenager for a little while yet.

Tess managed the first sixteen years of Cassie’s life with very little support, even after Cassie’s dad walked out when Cassie was three months old, claiming that he he couldn’t be a dad, that had never been part of the plan (the hypocrisy of that statement knew no bounds, especially given that he was the one who suggested that they have the baby when Tess found out about the pregnancy in the first place). He’d left Tess and Cassie in the lurch, without so much as another word except to send the divorce papers through his parents’ lawyer as well as the automatic monthly child support payments Tess had fought tooth and nail to get. Tess had kept her and Cassie’s last name as Peter’s, claiming it was too much of a hassle, and so that Cassie wouldn’t have a different last name to her. They were very young, not even twenty yet when Cassie was born. Sure, it was a lot, but she proved everyone wrong. And she had help from your parents from time to time. Tess has always been stubborn, you both are, but this is the first time in a long while that she’s had to swallow her pride and ask for help.

So that’s where you come in. You’d needed a change of scenery anyway. Especially after you’d ripped off the band-aid that was the slow-motion breakup with your ex, Ted.

One night, as Cassie’s helping you chop up ingredients for dinner, she says, “Medieval faire signups are coming up soon.”

You hum as you cut up some carrots. “Oh yeah. Mr. Ballard was mentioning that. Sounds like fun. Do you think you’ll join up?”

Cassie nods. “Only the thing is…” she hesitates.

“The thing is?” you echo, prompting her to go on.

Cassie worries her bottom lip. “The students need a parent or a guardian of some description to join them if they’re in grade ten or younger.”

Ah. “I see. And you’re wondering if I would join you,” you surmise.

Cassie nods again, her eyes hopeful. “Please?” she asks. “It’s a lot of fun and we don’t even have to be in the same areas. It’s just in case there’s an incident or anything like that.”

You think about it. “When is it?” you ask.

“End of June. For six weeks. Every weekend for the summer.”

That does change things. Initially, you were worried about leaving Tess to her own devices as far as getting to doctor’s appointments. And hopefully in another month and a half, she’ll be relatively back on her feet. “All right, I’ll do it.”

Cassie’s entire face lights up and you know you’ve made the right decision when you see her smile. “Yes! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” she says, her joy contagious.

“Of course, kiddo. It sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun.”

There’s an information meeting that Saturday morning in the school’s gymnasium. You and Cassie wake up at the ass-crack of dawn, making sure to stop off at Starbucks before heading to the school. It’s always weird being at school on a Saturday, even now, when you haven’t been to school in some form in over five years.

A considerable amount of people have already arrived, more than you had expected. “Good turnout,” you say to Cassie.

She nods, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, it’s really popular.”

“When did it start? We never had it when your mom and I were kids.”

Cassie thinks. “Maybe, like, four or five years ago? Some guy named William Garin started it, but…” The rest of her sentence is cut off as Mr. Ballard calls for attention. “Good morning everyone,” he says as the din of chatter dies down. “And welcome to the fifth annual Lockwood Falls Medieval Faire!” There’s a polite applause. “I just wanted to take this minute to say thank you to everyone who’s come out on this rainy Saturday morning, so many before your usual weekend wakeup times.”

There’s a smattering of laughter from the parents as he hands out a stack of papers to be passed around. “I’m handing around an information sheet on what roles are available in addition to the sign-up sheet. I, of course, am reprising my role as King Henry II with Lin-Mae taking on the role Eleanor of Aquitaine this year. There are a few other roles that have already been assumed by our lead organizer and a few others.”

You frown. “Hang on. Isn’t Ballard the lead organizer?” you ask as Ballard continues speaking.

Cassie shakes her head. “Nope. He just really likes being involved. He loves faire.” She signs her name on the clipboard that has made its way to you. She writes lady in waiting in the space for the role she’s playing before handing the clipboard to you.

“Then who is —?”

Your question is answered for you before you can finish asking. “Please all join me in giving a warm welcome to our organizer Pero Tovar!”

- - - -

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you hiss in an undertone to Cassie. You’re close to the front, so there’s little doubt that he hears you. “That ass — jerk?” Pero lifts an eyebrow in your direction.

“Ladies, if you’re quite done, may I continue?” Oh yeah, he definitely heard you. You don’t care.

Cassie is quick to offer an apology and Pero continues.

“Don’t worry about him,” a woman, maybe five years your senior, says from behind you. “He’s all rough and gruff on the outside, but on the inside, he’s an old softie.” You raise an incredulous eyebrow and she laughs. “Yeah, he’s an acquired taste but once you get to know him…” She shrugs. “I’ve known him since we were in high school, so I’m used to it.”

You look down at the clipboard and seriously reconsider signing up. But you promised Cassie you would do this with her. With a grumble, you write your name down, deciding to be a tavern maid. You’d been a bartender and server off and on since college. How different could this be?

You pass the clipboard and pile of information sheets to the woman behind you. “Oooh, you’re going to be my fellow tavern wench!” she exclaims in delight. “I’m Sarah, by the way.” You introduce yourself. “I already know we’re going to make such great friends!” Sarah’s a curvy woman, who even sitting down, is tall, or at least, taller than you. Not that that’s difficult. She’s got bright green eyes and dark hair tied up in a ponytail.

“I’m sure whatever you’re talking about is very interesting. Can it wait?” Pero says, annoyance heavily laced in his voice. Sarah shoots him a sarcastic smirk and he carries on.

“As I was saying before I was interrupted —“ He shoots a glare in your direction that you respond to with a hard stare of your own. “—as usual, I will be playing Captain Bastian. Pirate and mercenary for hire.” Oh, great. If there’s one thing that pirates are known for, it’s drinking.

Sarah sees your grimace and smiles reassuringly before whispering, “Don’t worry, he only frequents the tavern every now and again. Usually he’s doing the duel with Gideon, who plays his rival.”

“He’s not rivals with everyone?” you can’t help but ask; Sarah chortles and Cassie shushes you, not wanting to get in trouble with Mr. Tovar again.

“Rehearsals for the duel between myself and Gideon begin next Saturday and will run until the weekend before the faire begins. For the rest of you, brush up on your accents and attempt to read the informational material about the time period we are portraying. I want as few anachronisms as possible. Rehearsals for everyone begin in two weeks. That’s all.”

He really is a hardass. “You’re sure he’s a big old softie?” you ask Sarah.

She shrugs. “He’s an acquired taste for sure. But I’ve known him for years, so I’m used to his… manners.”

You try to puzzle the information together. “Are you two…?”

Sarah bursts out in laughter. “God, no. No, no. My girlfriend will think that’s hilarious.” She giggles.

“What’s so funny?” You turn to see Pero Tovar, who’s come over for the signup sheet. You make a valiant effort not to grimace as you hand the clipboard back to him.

“Thank you.” So he does know how to say thank you.

Sarah composes herself. “Oh, you know. This and that. Making fun of you.” Pero grumbles something under his breath; there’s no menace in his grumblings, so this is clearly old news to the both of them.

You feel like a bug under a microscope under his gaze; it unsettles something in you, something you can’t quite put your finger on. “Can I help you with something?” you ask, faux-sweetly.

Pero finally tears his gaze away from you. He looks down at the signup sheet. “Barmaid, eh? That’s a lot of work. You sure you don’t want to be a lady’s maid or something similar?”

Now you remember why you don’t like this guy. “I was a server and bartender for six years. I know what I’m doing,” you say almost defiantly, daring him to say anything else that doubts your abilities.

“If you say so.”

What is the deal with this guy? Acquired taste is right. Sarah and Cassie watch the entire back and forth between you and Pero like they’re watching a tennis match, enraptured by the spectacle.

Tovar continues. “Then you must know it can be a real, ahem, prick to the soul, working long days with endless customers, especially when in costume and having to portray a character.”

Whatever rebuttal was on your tongue disappears. He had heard you that day then.

“I can handle myself. If you think otherwise, please, by all means, tell me.”

“Clearly you can handle yourself. I’m just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Before you can reply with a scathing barb of your own, a petite woman with long dark hair catches his attention suddenly. “Excuse me. Cassandra, Sarah.” He makes no effort to bid you goodbye, making his way over to the woman, clipboard in hand.

“Damn, girl. I was about to ask if we needed to leave the room.” Sarah and Cassie share a look that is infuriatingly impossible to read and then giggle, their eyes still wide with what they just witnessed. You roll your eyes and look back to Pero, who’s talking to the woman that got his attention.

He says something that you can’t hear and she puts her hand on his shoulder.

“Who’s that?” you ask. They look close, whoever she is. Is that his girlfriend? And why do you even care? He certainly doesn’t care about you.

Sarah looks to see who you’re talking about and her face falls in sympathy. Sympathy for whom, you’re not sure. “That’s Lin-Mae Garin.”

The wheels turn in your mind. Did she leave the mysterious William Garin for Pero? Is that why they’re conversing as privately as possible? Or did she marry William while Pero pined for her, but for whatever reason they could never be together?

Clearly, you read too many romance novels if that’s your first thought as to who Lin-Mae Garin is and what her relationship is with Pero.

“Do you wanna head out?” you ask Cassie. Waving goodbye to Sarah, you and Cassie begin to make your way across the gym to the exit. The gym is mostly empty by now, and you’d rather be as far away from Pero Tovar as possible.

Sarah had said that he doesn’t frequent the tavern that much outside of a few times during performance breaks. That’s good, then. The less of him you have to see, the better.

--- taglist in reblog

#pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal #the great wall #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #my writing

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