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2996-sana · 4 years

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Not So Unrequited Love - Jennie

At 11 on a Friday, Jennie finds herself at Coffee Beanz where her, Jisoo, Lisa, and Rosé usually meet for their weekly brunch. The quaint little coffee shop that huddled despondent among huge city buildings has cemented itself as their go-to place ever since Jisoo came across it during their freshman year of college. The interior was warm and cheery and always played really good jazz during Fridays which Jennie absolutely loved.

Now professionals with outstanding positions in their own industries, the four girls still haven’t forgotten about the one place that always gave them a bittersweet recollection of their time as broke and stressed college students. Not that they need the weekly trips to the coffee shop to see each other. They all lived in the same apartment complex separated by just a few doors from each other after all. It was just a nice little tradition that reminded them to remain grounded no matter how far they come in their own careers.

This week, the topic at hand over their usual coffee and brunch orders was Jennie’s struggle to find a date.

“Why is this happening to me?” Jennie complains, throwing her hands in the air. “Am I lacking something?”

The three girls rolled their eyes at their best friend. Jennie really did have a flare for the dramatics.

“Jen, you literally have people lining up to date you.” Jisoo reassured while the other two hummed in agreement.

“That’s right,” Rosé says, taking a pause to sip her coffee. “I mean Y/N is literally the living embodiment of that statement.”

Lisa snorts at Rosé’s words. You were Rosé’s childhood best friend and business partner who first crossed paths with Jennie about three years ago during their company launching and was notorious in their friend group for your not so subtle crush on Jennie.

This was not lost on Jennie however. Not at all. Moves were made. These so-called moves could’ve definitely been executed better, Jennie was sure of that, but she appreciated your efforts.

You just weren’t her type.

Jennie grimaced hearing your name. “I-I don’t know, Rosie. Nothing against her or whatever. She’s just not my type is all.”

“You know, Jennie, just because Y/N isn’t the typical person littered with tattoos that you usually go for, doesn’t mean she won’t make good company on a date.”

She wanted to rebut Lisa’s argument but she knew the girl had a point. Looking at her dating history, she was known for being with people – boys and girls – who all looked and acted like their moral compass could use some adjusting. What can she say? She has always been a sucker for someone wild.

You on the other hand could be compared to sunshine. Jennie can’t ever recall seeing you without a smile on your face. It almost seemed like it was the last step in your morning routine before walking out of your house. In Jennie’s eyes, you were too nice. Nicer than Rosé (if you’re on her good side) and that is saying a lot.

“Lisa is right, Jen. Y/N is actually super cool,” Jisoo insisted, remembering the time she bumped into you at an art exhibition. It was there that she discovered that you were one for the arts and had two of your paintings featured that night. She also noticed how people lit up at your presence and appreciated how you commanded the room whenever you began talking. It reminded her of how tough and demanding you were during a meeting she was able to attend that one time she visited Rosé. The impressed faces of your investors were ingrained in Jisoo’s brain. She was convinced you were a whole different person when needed to be.

Jisoo was fond of you. Especially for Jennie. She knew that if Jennie just gave you the time of day, Jennie would be able to look past her perception of you: boring and plain – and discover that you are more than what meets the eye.

“Yeah, Jen! Give her a chance,” Rosé was sporting a pout, clearly wanting both of her friends to get together.

With her best friends’ eyes on her, all looking like they were expecting the same answer, Jennie sighs in defeat.

Oh, what the hell. Just one date. What could go wrong, right?

“Fine.”

“Wow, we can tell just how excited you are.” Lisa was giggling at Jennie’s pained expression. She was sure Jennie was just overreacting anyway. Lisa actually thought you were cute and 100% dateable.

•

You were tapping your foot on the wooden floor of your office finishing off some paperwork when your silver-haired best friend slash business partner Rosé entered unannounced, a big smile on her face that was becoming borderline creepy.

“Why do you look like that?”

Rosé began to squeal in excitement complete with jumping up and down. “Jennie wants to go on a date with you!”

The words cause you to come to a halt as your cheeks are suddenly kissed pink, your blush searing through your cheeks.

For a minute Rosé thought her friend’s face was on fire.

“What?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me loud and clear,” Rosé teased. “Anyways, she’s free this Saturday and I did you a favor and called for a reservation at her favorite Italian restaurant by Graves Street under your name. 7PM, don’t be late! Bye!”

That was the last you heard before the girl slammed the doors of your office closed.

•

As planned, you were sat in one of the tables at Jennie’s restaurant of choice. Large mullioned windows, long embroidered curtains, dark walnut tables with splendidly proportioned cabriole legs, romantic candles on each table, soft live piano music, and a flagstone tile floor. The restaurant was fancy, that you could tell as you observed from your seat.

You resorted to playing with your fingers as you waited for the girl who has lived in your heart and mind rent free ever since you saw her that evening of your company’s launching. You were twenty minutes early due to the nerves that haven’t left since Rosé informed you of Jennie’s approval of the date. You couldn’t believe Jennie actually agreed to this. Last thing you heard was Jennie’s break up with her designer boyfriend of one year and that she was back on the market. You didn’t think you would be lucky enough to even be a candidate that could potentially bring her off it again.

You shake your head at your thoughts. You were getting way ahead of yourself. For now, you should just focus on getting this date right so that a second one could be on the table.

“Hey, you’re early.”

You cast your eyes upwards to see Jennie plopping down on the seat in front of you and you had to forcefully tear your eyes away from the beauty that finally graced you with her presence. She looked sinfully stunning in her black vintage Chanel dress.

“Oh, um…I-I actually just got here.” you blurted, looking bewildered. “You look beautiful.”

You wanted to hit yourself for such a basic compliment but being there with Jennie was nerve-wracking enough as it was so you cut yourself some slack. Jennie couldn’t help but giggle at how obviously flustered you were.

Cute, she thought. “Thank you, Y/N. I think you look dashing yourself.”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks and prayed it wasn’t noticeable. Thankfully before you could embarrass herself, a friendly looking waiter approached your table with a menu.

“Are we ready to order ladies?”

Jennie looked to you for confirmation which you answered with a tentative nod.

“I’ll have the poached lobster with butternut squash and chestnuts and…” Jennie threw you a glance from her menu.

“I’ll have the, um, beef tenderloin with the crab salad.” You read the first thing you saw from the menu, the pressure of Jennie looking at you throwing you off. “Thank you.”

“Okay, would that be all ladies?”

“Oh, and two glasses of white house. Thanks.”

As the waiter walked away with their orders, a silence settled over them.

“I know everything seems pretentious but I promise the food is worth it,” Jennie remarked with a teasing smile.

“It’s all good, Jennie. How’s work?” Your smile fades as you notice the girl you so badly wanted to impress was suddenly distracted, her attention everywhere but on you. You tried to see what Jennie was so focused on, following her line of sight.

After a couple moments, you realize that Jennie was focused on a couple eating across from each other a few tables away from you. The boy was studiously bent over his meal while conversing with the girl as she collapsed with helpless giggles. It didn’t take you long to realize that it was Jennie’s ex, Kai, having met him during Lisa’s birthday party last year. A big point to also remember was how the dude was literally Rosé’s cousin.

“Jennie?”

Jennie was snapped out her trance, desperately trying to compose herself.

What the fuck was Kai, her ex-boyfriend, doing here with a girl? She wasn’t jealous. Not in Kai’s wildest dreams. She wouldn’t get back together with him even if he was the last option she had left. No, she was annoyed because Kai managed to bag someone before she could. She was Jennie Kim. Why wasn’t she in a disgustingly cute relationship by now? She wanted so badly to curse the boy out until she remembered she was also here for a date with Y/N. Y/N! Right, Y/N.

“Shit, sorry. I just thought I saw someone I knew,” Jennie shrugged. Her tone was apologetic but you could tell she was still distracted.

“It’s okay,” you tried to sound nonchalant, sporting a counterfeit smile, but you could practically feel the uneasy tension in the atmosphere.

You just hoped you could salvage the night.

•

You weren’t able to. Jennie stayed distracted and uninterested the rest of the night, eyes either glancing at the couple a few tables away or at her phone. She answered your questions with one worded answers and empty laughs and you were left to shift uncomfortably in your seat, grasping your sweaty and nervous hands under the table.

You threw yourself on your bed, screaming into a pillow. You couldn’t digest the defeat you felt. You had one chance to show Jennie you were worth her time and you couldn’t even get it right. You felt traumatized and humiliated. Jennie would have that disaster of a date seared into her brain forever and the thought was ready to pop up and torment you for the rest of your life. You knew the regret would come to you in random moments, demanding to be reexamined again.

No, you shouldn’t beat yourself up for it. You tried your best. As far as you were concerned, you didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, Jennie was the reason why things didn’t go as planned tonight.

You gave your pillow another scream at the realization. Jennie was uninterested because that’s what she was – uninterested. She obviously didn’t like you enough to be present during the date.

She could’ve at least pretended to be happy to be there, you thought bitterly.

•

A week after that disaster of a date, you were walking down the street enjoying the only time of the week you had to yourself. Work had been excruciating these past few months as you were in the middle of negotiating with foreign investors and hopefully sealing the deal by next week. The late afternoon sunlight, soft and diffuse, giving way to the strong rays of the day, was doing its job of convincing you that it was gonna be a great day.

You’ve been feeling down ever since the date and you badly needed a day to recuperate and gain back the confidence that you lost. Rosé was nothing short of apologetic when she found out about the disappointing events and reassured you that she, along with Jisoo and Lisa, gave Jennie the scolding she deserved. Although your best friend’s desired reaction was for you to feel better, it just made you more embarrassed knowing that Jennie’s blatant dislike in dating you was known to all of her friends.

Today, it was your mission to forget all about Jennie and that night.

The antique store has been a treasure trove to you. It never failed to give you objects of delight and interest that instantly claimed your attention. Today was no different. Your eyes lit up as you see the old woman, who looked like your typical ahjumma, behind the counter. She wasn’t the kind of old woman you pity with old bones and troubled limbs, but the kind who could still run an entire marathon if given half the chance.

“Ah, Y/N!” the woman exclaimed, “I didn’t see you last week, dear.”

“It has been a nightmare at the company. I’m surprised I’m still walking,” you sighed, making your way to the shelves filled with odd objects.

“Y/N, you should really learn how to take a breather. You’re always at work! No wonder you’re still single,” Nora shook her head, shooting you a look of disapproval.

You laughed as you looked through every rack for some knickknack you wanted to bring home. There was a carved sandal-wood box packed tight with aromatic cotton-wool, and between the layers of cotton-wool were little brass figures, hump-necked bulls and peacocks and goblins, delightful to see and handle.

“You don’t need to remind me of my impending doom of living alone for the rest of my life, Nora.”

You let out an involuntary gasp as you spot a teapot fashioned like a china duck before carefully putting it inside your basket. You continued to stare amazed at the different peculiar objects, completely entranced, that you didn’t hear someone walking up beside you.

“Y/N?”

You jumped in surprise at the sudden voice. And not just any voice. You turned around to see Jennie looking at you with the same look of shock on her face. “Jennie?”

She looked down at your basket before giving you a tight-lipped smile. Something akin to an apologetic one.

“I’m… actually really glad I ran into you,” Jennie stammered, head bowed as if ashamed. “I’ve been meaning to apologize about my behavior last Saturday. I was being rude and incons-“

You cut her off with a soft smile, “Jennie, it’s fine. It’s all behind us now. Apology accepted.”

“Ugh, why do you have to be so understanding? I feel like shit,” she groaned, stomping her feet on the ground.

You almost laughed at how genuinely disturbed she seemed but figured you didn’t want to make her more upset.

“Stop beating yourself up for it,” you urged, gently patting her shoulder. “Anyways, I’ll have Nora ring this up on the counter. Good seeing you, Jen.”

Before you could walk away from the cat-eyed girl, you feel fingers wrapping itself around your wrist.

“It’s a beautiful day out. Care to spare a couple of hours to spend it with me?”

•

Jennie wasn’t lying. It really was a beautiful spring day out. Try as you might, your focus was scattered, filled with nervous anticipation. You were afraid you wouldn't be able to hold a conversation while your thoughts danced in infinite directions. Yeah, operation move on from Jennie Kim was not looking too good. Still as you walked with Jennie along the local park, you were determined to move past that and tried to convince yourself that this was nothing but a platonic hang out.

“How’s work been?” Jennie questioned, hands in her coat pockets as her eyes drifted to the kids playing around the field.

“Hard,” you sighed. “We’ve all been hard at work but I’m sure you know that given Rosie never really shuts up about it.”

Jennie laughs and you don’t feel the familiar butterflies you get whenever you heard the melodic sound and you think that maybe you’re finally making progress.

“Yeah, she always makes sure to give us an earful about it.”

“How about you though? The magazine is doing really great. I’ve seen at least a hundred people reading this month’s issue just today,” you exaggerated, wiggling your eyebrows which again brought out a laugh from Jennie.

She playfully nudged your shoulder, “Real funny, but yeah everything is doing really great. Getting Lady Gaga on this month’s issue was a really great move. We have Selena Gomez up next. We bagged a really great exclusive interview.”

You could hear the pride in Jennie’s voice and you knew it was warranted. Being the self-made CEO of her own fashion and lifestyle magazine, Jennie had every right to feel proud. Plus, it wasn’t easy pulling off having such A list celebrities to feature in your magazine.

“That’s really amazing, Jen. You should be proud of yourself. It’s only going up from here, I know it. I’m rooting for you,” you quipped.

Jennie shot you her famous gummy smile before letting out a whispered thank you.

As the both of you observed your surroundings, you realize you reached the pier.

“It’s getting pretty dark. Should you head home now?” you ask while taking in the beauty of the pier at night.

The pier was a permanent fun fair; bumper cars, the hall of mirrors, the ghost train, a loop-the-loop roller coaster and the big wheel. Waves playfully splashing below, gentle salty breeze, smoothies, burgers, donuts and cotton candy.

Jennie was equally taken by the bustling fair, shaking her head. “I think I can stay a little while longer.”

You broke out into a smile, holding out your hand. “Come on then!”

You dragged Jennie to the end of the dock before sitting down on the edge and beckoning her to do the same. When you tilted your head upward, you could see clearly millions of bright stars dotted on the black canvas of the night.

“It’s so beautiful,” Jennie mused.

“The pier is most beautiful at night. It never fails to shove aside the worries corrupting my mind even for a couple hours,” you smiled.

“Do you come here often?”

You snorted, “Are you flirting, Miss Kim?”

Jennie gasps before throwing her head backwards, erupting into laughter. “You know what I mean, Y/N! Also, what if I was?”

You decided to ignore the last part, suppressing the tingling feeling spreading throughout your body, “I used to come up a lot when Rosé and I were still struggling with the company.”

You could feel Jennie’s stare burning right through you.

“Tell me more about you, Y/N.”

•

Hours later, Jennie laid on her queen-size bed staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t shake the giddy state her night with you left her in. Spending time with you was filled with meaningful conversations and playful (and a little bit flirty) banter. Things with you felt natural and refreshing, like a breath of fresh air from the cocky and overconfident types she was used to going on dates with. Was this what she was missing out on when she decided to act like a complete imbecile on your date?

She couldn’t help the smile making its way to her face as she remembered the events of tonight. She felt light and warm and basically everything good in the world balled up into one. She felt like a high schooler with a crush. The thought of seeing you again tingled through her like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering in her toes.

She was crushing hard.

So, when Jennie found out that Rosé was throwing a big party for her birthday next week, all she could think about was seeing you, talking to you, and maybe stealing a kiss. She was convinced she was just floating through her way on the days leading up to Rosé’s party.

The party was electric just as Jennie expected. Everyone was feeding off of each other’s smiles and fast dancing. She was in one of the lounge couches chatting with her friends sipping on a rum runner as she tried to look past the sweaty dancing bodies with the mission of spotting you.

“Jendeukie, you seem distracted!” Jisoo yelled through the music.

Jennie chuckled, feeling a blush form on her cheeks. Thankfully, the glow from consuming one or two glasses of alcoholic drinks successfully masked it.

“Excuse me for a sec,” she announced as she got up and made her way to the kitchen.

“Jen!”

She cringed as she realized who the voice belonged to. She almost forgot Kai was Rosé’s cousin and was most likely invited to the party.

“Kai, hey…” she sighed.

She was annoyed that the boy had interrupted her attempt to find you, plus she really wasn’t in the mood for small talk with an ex.

“You look ravishing tonight,” Kai smirked, reaching out for Jennie.

She quickly dodged Kai’s advances and whooshed past him, leaving the boy confused in her wake.

“Nice seeing you but I gotta go!”

She breathed a sigh of relief as she escaped her lame excuse of an ex-boyfriend but the relief was short-lived as her eyes found the scene not a couple feet away from her. You were by the sliding door that lead to Rosé’s poolside talking to some woman who was clearly interested in you, judging by the way she was caressing your arm up and down with her ugly wicked fingers. The woman started laughing and she knew you probably said something stupidly funny, reminding her of how much you made her laugh last week. This time though, Jennie was not on the receiving end of your witty remarks and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

This was probably how you felt that night when Jennie ignored your whole existence just to stare all night at her ex. Jennie felt disappointment bubble inside her as she finally decided to tear her gaze away from you and the girl. She sighed as she accepted the fact that you were done with her. Why wouldn’t you be? Did she really expect you to pine over her for years and then come crawling back just because of one night where Jennie did the bare minimum and was a decent human being to you?

Dejected, she takes a break from the loud and busy party downstairs and made her way to the upstairs balcony. The balcony was a concrete ledge with square rough edges but it quickly became an oasis to Jennie as she found comfort in the silence.

“Hey there, stranger.”

Jennie turned her head so fast she swore she almost had whiplash.

“Y/N?”

You grinned as you joined her near the railings, “The one and only. What are you doing here?”

Jennie shrugged off the bitter feeling of seeing you flirting with another girl and forced out a smile, “Needed some fresh air. How about you? You seemed really busy downstairs.”

You raise an eyebrow at Jennie’s icy tone, narrowing your eyes at the girl. What was she on about?

At your (admittedly adorable) confused look, Jennie sighed as she explained.

“You were busy chatting up a girl downstairs, were you not?”

“Careful,” you teased. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

Expecting a defensive reply, you were surprised to find the girl fiddling with her hands. “Jennie?”

You saw as Jennie struggled, clenching and unclenching her jaw, eyes closed in frustration.

“I…I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight,” she lamented, finally opening her eyes to meet yours.

“For some reason, I can’t stop thinking about you. That night at the pier…” she went on, “I realized how stupid I was for not paying attention to you sooner. This amazing person right under my fucking nose the whole time. God, I could’ve saved us both a crapload of time if I weren’t so dumb.”

To say you weren’t expecting this was an understatement. Was Jennie Kim confessing to you? You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“No use thinking about what could’ve happened if you did this or that,” you stared seriously at the girl in front of you. “Um, I’m right here now, aren’t I?”

You tried to laugh but it came out strained. You still couldn’t believe what was happening.

“So, the girl downstairs?”

“Literally just met her tonight. She’s cool. Didn’t really pay any mind to her to be honest,” you smiled.

“Good,” Jennie hummed, satisfied with your answer. “I meant what I said by the way. I’d really like to start over.”

Before you could come up with a reply, soft plump limps planted itself on your cheek.

“If you’ll have me,” Jennie whispers against your cheek.

•

“Ugh, today was so stressful!” Jennie agonized as she plopped down on the soft cushion of your sofa. Immediately, her body finds itself entangled with yours. This, Jennie knew, was all she needed after a long day.

“Tell me about it then baby,” you started running your fingers through her messy curls while your free hand intertwined your hands together.

“First, the AC in my office broke down and I was sweating buckets half the day since the repair team didn’t arrive until 2PM,” Jennie revealed, planting a soft kiss on your neck. “To make things worse, my beautiful girlfriend wasn’t able to visit me because she had a meeting come up last minute.”

You giggled hearing your girlfriend’s words, “Clingy.”

Jennie breaks away from your hold, a wild look on her face. “How dare you! Is it a crime that I’m desperately in love with you and wanted to see you during my lunch break?”

“I’m kidding,” you chuckled. “You know I would’ve loved to see your pretty face today.”

“You better be,” Jennie taunted. “I love you.”

…

...

“Hey Jen?”

“Hm?”

“Remember two years ago on our first date you ignored me the whole time to glare at your ex-boyfriend?”

Your soft laugh filled them room as Jennie groaned, hitting you square on the stomach, “Don’t you dare bring that up. I don’t even wanna imagine not being with you. Just the thought makes me wanna puke.”

You rolled your eyes at your girlfriend’s dramatics, “Good thing you don’t have to ever live through that then.” hi:) i accept requests now

#blackpink #blackpink x reader #blackpink imagine #jennie kim #jennie x reader #jennie imagine #jennie #blackpink scenarios

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 4 years

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Wicked Game

Another round of the 5sos fic writing collab brought to you by @maluminspace and @h0tsos. There are so many amazing writers involved and I highly recommend checking out the event master list linked below. Thank you to the Sagittarius sorceress @sexgodashton for being very caring, patient, and kind while helping me tame this monster. Massive shout out to @ghostofmashton for the photo edits, especially Ashton’s eye. that’s my favorite. You’re a rock star. Texas girls forever, love you to bits!

Event Master List

Prompt: Chef AU with Cashton

Dialogue Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met” First person to spot it in the fic and send me a screenshot gets a personalized blurb request.

Word Count: 20K+ Team Long Winded Bitch strikes again, this will be posted in multiple parts over the next couple of days. This first part is about 5K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Part 1

"Great job, guys, we couldn't have had a better opening weekend. Thank you so much for making it happen," Ashton told the two staff members in the kitchen who'd closed as he unlocked the back door.

"No problem boss, glad to be here. We made money this weekend. See ya tomorrow," DeSean told him as he left.

Ashton locked the door behind them and walked out into the empty dining room, his steel-toed boots echoing heavily on the distressed blonde faux hardwood floors. He stopped to adjust a few tables, double-checking sightlines and looking over the layout of the tables. The upside-down chair legs cast long shadows in the soft pink neon glow.

He looked up at the sign above the bar that read "Anne-Marie's." He smiled, not caring if anyone thought it was cheesy to name his restaurant after his mother. His mom had always been his lucky star, and he couldn't have gotten through the last couple of years without her.

"You look so serious,' a voice behind him startled him out of his thoughts.

"What the fuck Hima," Ashton yelped, clutching his chest dramatically. "I thought you were still in the kitchen."

"The guys didn't leave me anything to do so I decided to change and have a drink with you before my brother gets here," she tossed her bag and chef's coat onto a stool grinning at Ashton. She hopped up to sit on the bar before swinging her legs around as she pushed off. Landing without a wobble she reached under the bar and grabbed a bottle of black label Bushmill's Irish Whiskey and two short glasses.

"Straight for the good stuff, I like the way you think," Ashton smirked, taking a seat at the bar.

"To simply mark the occasion, of course" she poured them each a shot before adding a splash of water. She raised her glass, "Cheers to you, Boss, and to Anne-Marie's."

They clinked glasses. "Couldn't have done it without you," he replied before taking a sip.

"Awwwwww thanks Ashtton, " she grinned at him. "Damn that's good, the whiskey makes me forgive the Irish for how dreadful Guinness is. Did you see Kevin Mackie snuck in last night? I expect a write up in the Metro on Tuesday and I know you saw Patricia Bennett," she rolled her eyes at the name.

"She makes herself hard to miss," he snorted. "I missed Mackie though. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because we were busy and I didn't have time for you to get all giggly and nervous. He got the crab puffs and the Mac and Brie and inhaled them. You were right about the nutmeg; I thought he was going to lick the plate." She opened two bottles of beer before hopping back over the bar and taking a seat next to Ashton.

"How did this weekend compare to the opening of ‘Lune Rouge’? Was it as good as the first time?" Hima finished her whiskey before shaking a pack of Camel Crush cigarettes out of her bag.

"If you get ashes on the bar Paloma will flip her shit," Ashton warned.

"I'm not afraid of her," Hima snipped, but she made sure to be careful. No sense in antagonizing their temperamental main bartender.

"This opening was definitely smoother than the first one. We didn't know what the hell we were doing. The first night we ran out of duck fat and gorgonzola before the dinner rush was over. My sous chef's sister had to run to Whole Foods for emergency supplies. We got lucky the press ignored us for a couple weeks until we got a little buzz going. This time I knew what to expect but there was also more pressure," he paused, taking a pull on the bottle of beer. "This time I expected to succeed right out of the gate."

"You succeeded there," Hima stubbed her cigarette out in her empty glass. "I really need to quit."

"You could get a puff bar and start vaping," he teased.

"I'm not a fucking junior varsity cheerleader. I can take my cancer like a big girl." She checked her phone. "Ugh it's almost nine, and it's gonna take me at least thirty minutes to get home. You're closing tomorrow with me right?"

"Yeah, I'll be in around 11 all this week. Rafi is handling brunch with Gloria but I want to be here," Ashton double-checked his phone. "Tuesday I have that interview with Men's Life and they just emailed me."

Hima saw his nose scrunch up as he read. "What's wrong?"

"I thought they were sending Taj, but instead of rescheduling the interview, they're sending Calum Hood," Ashton sneered.

"Chill dude, it's not that bad," Hima was confused by the venom in his voice. "Yeah he's a bit of a goof, but he's hot and not a pretentious dickhead. They could've sent Felipe."

"True, true," he grumbled as he saw a black Honda pull up outside. "Kabir is here."

"Shit, ok see you tomorrow, Boss," she grabbed her stuff, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran out the door, locking it behind her.

Ashton walked through once again. He made sure the lights were off in the employee lounge. Since many of his staff members used public transport or worked two jobs, Rafi had convinced Ashton to provide his staff with a decent place to take a break and get ready before or after work. He built a small shower stall, lockers, and provided clean towels, and as his new kitchen manager, Rafi took responsibility for maintaining the space. Ashton took a last look at the bar, double-checking for any stray ashes Hima might have missed before setting the alarm, locking up, and heading home.

Calum opened the email from his editor and swore loud enough to wake the scruffy brown terrier mix snoozing at his feet.

Hey Cal,

Sorry it's such short notice but Taj's mom had an emergency and I need you to cover for him. He's interviewing Ashton Irwin, remember him? He had the Lune Rouge a few years ago. Well, he's got a new place, diverse staff and we're doing a feature. Maybe even the cover if he's really pretty. Tuesday at 2 pm I'll send you the address and details after I talk to Taj. Oh, and my friend Nick is coming into town and I told him you'd show him around. It's been a while since you had a date but you'll like him. He's kinda short, but he's got big muscles, huge dick, perfect credit. You could do a lot worse.

Call me tomorrow

Sham

This isn't good, this isn't good. Calum's mind was racing. He rubbed his temples trying to think. Taj was notoriously reliable and responsible, so if he was taking off on short notice, it must be serious. It was just his bad luck it was Ashton Irwin.

He usually covered travel and sports for Men's Life while Taj handled food and fashion. Calum didn't mind taking back food and dining for the time being. He'd started in that industry, working as a line cook while he went to school for journalism. He'd quit both when a flirty, older professor recommended him for an internship at California Culture and he managed to land a real job. Professor Davis had been highly disappointed to lose him as a student and catch him making out with her son who went to the same college. He'd found a tiny shitty apartment, spent his life on the road for work, and sent every penny he didn't need to live on to his family. He didn't even date for the longest time until he met a handsome blonde with sharp features and a sharper tongue.

He couldn't remember if it was four years ago or five, but he clearly recalled his review of Lune Rouge had not been nice. Calum was in a toxic relationship with the restaurant's sous chef at the time. He'd let his personal life spill over into his work for the first and only time. It wasn't something Calum was proud of and while he felt he owed Ashton an apology, the right time and place hadn't presented itself yet. He'd run into Ashton twice since then. The first time he was with his husband, and Calum wasn't about to humble himself in front of Luke. The second encounter came not long after their marriage broke up. Calum was dating a photographer at the time, when Ashton came to the photographer’s art show. They were briefly introduced but Ashton's chilly demeanor discouraged any further conversation, so Calum avoided him the rest of the evening. He remembered being unable to stop staring at the handsome chef with the sad eyes. He'd always hoped they'd bump into each other under better circumstances. I guess an interview will have to do.

********

Ashton sat out on his condo balcony overlooking Echo Park, taking in the night air and enjoying a second bottle of IPA. Hima was right, the opening had been a smash. Anne-Marie's had the best staff he'd ever had the pleasure of working with, and aside from a small mix up between gruyere and Havarti cheese, the opening had been smooth. The alcohol hummed in his veins as he allowed his mind to wander back five years.

Lune Rouge's opening had been a chaotic mess of brilliance, balls, and blind luck. He was a year out of culinary school, newly married, and ecstatically in love with his husband. Luke was a trust fund baby; his dad ran a major studio. He put up the funding for their restaurant which procured a prime spot in trendy West Hollywood. Ashton had the idea of taking traditional French cuisine and turning it into "pub grub." Luke created a kitschy tacky cool interior with the ambiance of fairy light curtains, vintage 90's movie posters, an eye-popping pink and aqua come scheme. Featuring a bartender who doubled as a DJ, the restaurant became an immediate hot spot.

The culinary press treated them like rock stars and it went to their head. Ashton was portrayed as the mysterious boy genius, boisterous and foul-mouthed, he ran the back of the house, oversaw the business and created the menu. Luke, who's blonde-haired blue-eyed good looks were regularly described as "angelic", was the frontman, often schmoozing in the dining room, taking song requests, or slinging drinks behind the bar. They worked so well together until they didn't.

Ashton shook his head, not allowing himself to linger on negative thoughts, not when he'd fought to regain balance. He'd spent the last year freeing himself from the wreckage of his partnership with Luke. Still, tonight after the opening, alone and overlooking the city lights, his mind kept going back to the exhilaration of that first opening night. After they stayed late with the crew for a drink to celebrate, Luke's hand wandered up Ashton's thigh causing him to almost choke on his tequila. Soon Luke started whining about all the paperwork he had to do before they could go home. The crew quickly bagged it out of there, not wanting to get roped into more work.

Ashton swallowed at the memory before glancing around at the other balconies. It was late enough most of his neighbors should be asleep. Already hard, he reached down and squeezed his bulge through the thin fabric of his pajama pants.

After letting everyone else out of Lune Rouge that first night he'd been puzzled to find Luke no longer at the bar. He heard noises coming from the office. When he opened the door, he found his husband, shirtless, and waiting for him.

Ashton slid his hand into his pants swiping his thumb across the leaking tip. He heard a sliding glass door open and froze in place until he realized it was his neighbor below him chatting on the phone. He stroked himself and let his mind wander back to Luke. It had been too long since Ashton got laid, and Luke was still the best sex he'd ever had. He shuddered and bit his lip thinking about the way Luke grinned at him as he opened the office door. Before Ashton could say a word, Luke was sinking to his knees. A bit awkward given his long legs, but it didn't take long before he was letting Ashton fuck his throat. The thought of those blue eyes looking up at him as Ash's hands tangled in those blonde curls caused a moan to slip out, and his neighbor stopped talking at the sound.

"I think somebody is having sex," he heard her whisper. He almost laughed.

His dick was twitching flat against his stomach as he ducked back inside his bedroom, kicked off his pants, and grabbed a small tube of lube. Ashton shut off the light and stepped back outside.

The breeze cooled his fevered skin as he stood there looking out at the city and stroking his dick. The idea that he could possibly be seen turned him on almost as much as his trip down memory lane. He swallowed another moan thinking about how Luke's lips felt against his, their tongues tangled until he pulled back looking at Ashton with mischief and love before giving him a wink and turning around.

Ashton's breath caught in his throat as he worked his cock thinking about it. The red and white striped pants his husband pranced around in that night had been blissful torment working him up until the moment he slid those pants down and bent over the desk.

"Come take what's yours, my love, I've been wanting you all night," he cooed, wiggling his hips.

Luke was a whiny boy when he was getting pounded, and the memory sent Ashton closer to the edge. He felt his knees tremble as he increased his speed, the city lights becoming starbursts in his vision as he edged himself closer. At the moment of release, he swore he could feel Luke pushing back against him taking him in as deep as he could go.

When Ashton opened his eyes, he found himself sweaty and streaked with his own seed. He was amazed he'd managed to stay quiet, but his neighbor was chatting away obliviously. He went back inside, cracked another beer, and took it with him into the shower, trying to focus on his day tomorrow.

It was after midnight by the time he went to bed. His body was exhausted but the adrenaline from the opening weekend hadn't quite worn off. He found himself still restless and playing on his phone. After scrolling through Instagram, he found himself looking at the page belonging to the Galway Grill-- Ashton cringed at the name-- an Irish pub and microbrewery very recently opened by Luke and his boyfriend Finn.

Ashton simmered with resentment perusing the menu; they'd recycled at least half of the Lune Rouge recipes, his creations. He'd heard they'd rushed their opening to launch the week before Anne-Marie's, and even with Daddy's deep pockets the decor looked slapped together, all flash no class. He came to a picture of the happy couple and couldn't help but notice how thin and tired Luke looked despite his huge smile. He felt a twinge of concern for his ex before pushing his phone away in disgust. Rolling out of bed, he headed to the bathroom and fished an orange prescription bottle out of the cabinet. He broke a valium in half and swallowed the smaller piece with a gulp of water straight from the faucet. He scrolled through different sounds on his phone before settling on crashing waves. He spent the next ten minutes stretching and practicing deep breathing to push out any lingering negativity and troubling thoughts. It was too late to drag up the past and there was nothing to be gained. Ashton crawled back under the duvet and sank into a deep sleep dreaming of blue eyes.

*********

Hima rolled into work a little after one, pleased to see a decent lunch crowd and multiple delivery orders going out. She ordered a chicken mojito wrap for her lunch and headed back to the office to find Ashton. She found him in his chair with his laptop open on his desk, a notebook in his lap while scrolling through his phone.

"So what's the Monday morning report, Boss?" She asked, taking a seat across from him.

Ashton was beaming as he spun the laptop around to show her. "We made 30% over our projected sales. We came in right at payroll, actually a little under if you can believe that."

"I've checked the reservation book," she responded, flashing her phone. "We're booked solid for dinner Friday and Saturday and will call is 3 pm-7 pm. We're probably going to have to do that all week."

"Whatever you need. This weekend is going to be bonkers. If you have any suggestions, I'd like to do something for the staff. That reminds me, I've got to talk to Maisie." He scribbled down a quick note.

"She's already on it," Hima laughed. "The servers who struggled are coming in for extra training with her and Dakota. I have no doubt she'll straighten them up or ship them out."

Ashton nodded as Daniel knocked on the office door to bring their lunch.

"How's it going out there? Let us know if you need anything," Ashton told him.

"We've got this, Boss, enjoy your lunch," Daniel closed the door behind him.

"He's Rafi's brother?" Hima asked before taking a big bite.

"Cousin, Gloria is his sister," Ashton replied tucking into his roasted corn and quinoa salad with queso fresco.

"Are you ready for this interview tomorrow? You look tired," Hima looked concerned.

"I am tired," he shrugged. "I just wanna get this over with. I'm thrilled we're doing so well, but that's not what the press wants to talk about."

"Don't think about it like that. Anne-Marie's will stand on her own. You've just gotta get through this week. I know it's a lot," her words were half-muffled by a napkin.

"Tomorrow is the worst of it. Mackie called and is available Tuesday at one or Thursday for dinner around four. Since he's already been here for dinner, I thought I'd let Rafi wow him this time," he told her.

"Good idea, try to keep it short because if he drinks he gets super chatty. He gave a lecture at school and came to the bar afterward; he would not shut up," she warned.

"Chatty bastard, got it," he replied and they both laughed.

Anne-Marie's was his restaurant, but he couldn't have done it without Hima. She was fresh out of culinary school working as a line cook at the Hilton when he'd discovered her a little over a year ago. Ashton only lasted four months before chafing under the corporate yoke and deciding to strike out on his own. She'd been the first person he'd hired for the restaurant, guaranteeing her first year's salary out of his own pocket. Rafi and DeSean were excellent managers for the kitchen, but Hima was a coach: she understood the business as a whole. He'd let her handle most of the press and promotion, and she'd scored two big interviews.

Gourmet Table had interviewed him last Thursday The piece wouldn't be that in-depth, but they'd spent three hours photographing food. He expected the Men's Life article to focus more on him and his personal life. Calum Hood was known for his sharp pen and take-no-prisoners style. He'd given Lune Rouge two stars and a biting review during a brief stint at California Culture before he'd become known. It was five years ago, but Ashton still had the clipping somewhere. Calum had branded Lune's food as tasty and imaginative but thought the presentation was lacking in creativity. He'd ripped into the decor, calling it "somewhere between art house and frat house," and labeled Luke and Ashton "spoiled pretty boys pretending to be chefs." Luke had brushed it off with a laugh, but it still bothered Ashton.

Unlike the Hemmings’, Ashton’s family didn't have money to throw around. He'd started at sixteen, washing dishes and peeling vegetables for Chef François at Bordeaux on Hollywood. He'd taken culinary classes after high school while working full time. Sadly, Chef François had a heart attack and retired around the time he met Luke.

"You're not listening again," Hima complained, licking her fingers. "Rafi killed it with this wrap. The chicken is amazing, but the cucumber-mint salad and the tamarind chili mayo are next fucking level."

"You're right, I'm not. Sorry about that," he pushed his plate aside.

"Ok, what's got you so rattled? You've handled the press like a champ up until now. Is it Mackie or Hood? Who needs to catch these hands?" Hima stood and assumed a fighter's stance, bouncing on her toes.

"Easy there killer, I can defend my own honor. Mackie is an irritating little mosquito. He just wants gossip, but he's got enough readers so we all have to kiss his ass. Hood gave me one of the few bad reviews we got at Lune, and it stuck. He called us frat boys and said we were trying too hard," Ashton rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by saying it out loud.

Hima raised her eyebrows and smirked, "I love it when you're petty. You're always so perfect and Zen, it's annoying."

"My therapist would disagree. Oh shit, that reminds me," he straightened up in his chair and grabbed his phone. "I've got an appointment at 2:30. I'll be back before 4," he dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Ashton," her voice was soft but commanding, and he looked up. "I don't know what's going on, and if you don't want to tell me that's fine. I want you to take care of yourself, whatever that takes. Ok?" He nodded and she smiled, "You can tell Dr. Claire that I've confirmed her for 8 pm Saturday, and you're going to personally cook her dinner. We've got the 50th anniversary that night so maybe you could flex and make your Pavlova's? I'll get the berries myself."

"It's a deal; we can comp them champagne, too. I'd better get going before I get yelled at. She's a stickler for punctuality, I think it's a British thing."

"I'll hold things down until you get back," Hima gathered up the dishes and headed out with Ashton right behind her.

*********

Ashton drew a deep breath and exhaled through his nose as the reporter settled in the chair across from him. Kevin Mackie's column in L.A. Metro was the definitive opinion for restaurants on the West Coast. His readers loved the snarky tone, celeb sightings, and bitchy gossip that peppered his column. His reviews could make or break new restaurants.

"Let me start off by saying I love the decor of this place. It's rustic, but not in that played out, hipster-in-the-woods nonsense," he leaned in and lowered his voice towards the end of the comment with a coy smirk.

"You'll find no Mason jars here," Ashton replied, taking the bait. Kevin liked people who liked him, and his most recent column was a snarky takedown of "Pinterest style interiors." Ashton found the article tedious and uninspired, but there was no need to be antagonistic right out of the gate.

Ashton watched as the reporter ordered his lunch from their server Zia. He guessed Kevin to be in his forties, and he thought he could see fresh hair plugs, bleached blonde, and a bit of Botox. Rumor had it, he'd recently split with his long-time girlfriend over a fling with a much younger waiter. Ashton tried not to pay attention to industry gossip. However, his personal problems made their way into the column more than once, and he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at the other man's problems.

After they'd both ordered, Kevin sat back and took a sip of his Pellegrino water and smacked his lips. "I was here the other night and I have to admit I was prepared to be underwhelmed. A menu based on sandwiches and comfort food sounded like an upscale Applebee's, but I really liked it despite myself. I was surprised to see your main girl was on the mature side, but she's efficient as hell so I get the trade-off."

Ashton's body tensed at the insult to Maisie, and he took a deep breath. Exhaling through his nose he forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Kevin was prattling on with some bit of gossip as Ashton sipped on his iced coffee.

"So let's start with something simple and ease our way into the rough stuff," Kevin set his voice recorder on the table between them. "Tell me how you formulated your top-secret house coffee blend."

Ashton broke into a wide grin as he described taking two months to travel and sample different beans, learn more about the roasting and blending process. Kevin sipped his coffee and nodded as if deep in thought, but his eyes kept wandering to Ashton's biceps. He'd been baking this morning so he smelled of cinnamon, his black t-shirt damp and clingy from sweating under his chef coat.

"So we sell the house blend all year, but we have single-source coffee that's seasonal, all of it fair trade," Ashton finished proudly.

"Coffee has always been your thing if I remember correctly," Kevin said.

"True, true, and once I started roasting my own beans it became a true obsession."

Kevin followed it up with a couple more softball questions about menu details and sandwiches. Ashton expounded on his love of food. "Cooking for someone is a simple way to show care, to be enjoyed almost as much as dining should be. Food is caring and comfort; it sustains us. It brings people together in a shared experience."

"Ooh that's a nice pull quote," Mackie chuckled. "I love when y'all have media training. It makes the bullshit flow much smoother.

Ashton seethed but said nothing. He'd watched this man's pettiness wreck a good opening, and Ashton couldn't do that to his crew. Zia brought their lunch. Ashton noticed Kevin had also ordered the chicken mojito wrap.

"This looks delicious. I think it's a nice touch that you've got so much, let's say diversity, in your restaurant. That you're actually letting them make their own food makes your menu more interesting. Not all restaurants get it. Please tell me you've seen how horribly Finn ripped you off for that tacky Irish pub," Kevin glanced up at him a tiny smirk playing on

"I haven't paid any attention to that," Ashton wanted to end the interview right there.

"Oh come on, you've had to see how much he's trying to recreate the magic you and Luke once had. The menu is tired, I don't give a fuck if he is Irish. Finn has no imagination yet fancies himself an impresario. Luke's still got it though. He even asked when I was coming here. I didn't tell him of course, I'm a professional after all."

"Of course," Ashton nodded checking out of the conversation. The reporter talked as he ate which given the wrap he was eating proved especially messy and little flecks of food kept flying his way. Ashton watched the door, nodding at customers, silently willing someone to come and save him. Kevin was still talking about himself when Hima and Zia came out of the kitchen. Ashton tried to catch their eye when he felt a hand on his arm.

"I wanna ask you about that one," Kevin leaned in so he could almost whisper.

"Who? Hima? What about her?" Ashton was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

"What's the deal? I've only ever seen you with Luke. Did your palette change that much? India must've been a real spiritual awakening for you huh?" Kevin winked at him, thinking he was clever.

Ashton controlled his breathing trying to keep his temper in check. He looked over at the reporter who kept talking oblivious to the situation.

"Who doesn't like trying something exotic. She seems like a smart cookie. She's darker than most Indian girls you see, like a rich brown butter sauce. I bet she tastes like tumeric though."

"Get out of my restaurant" Ashton hissed, his hands gripping the table to restrain himself from physical violence. "You are not going to insult my staff, my friends, in their restaurant."

Kevin started to speak but Ashton cut him off.

"Not another fucking word" he kept his voice at a low growl so as not to cause a scene. He noticed a couple of the closest tables were already watching them. "You've said enough and I'm barely holding back as it is. Get out of my restaurant, don't ever come back, don't ever speak to me again, and if you trash me in this review I promise you I will find you and fuck you up personally." Ashton stood up and Kevin flinched, the sight would have made him laugh if he hadn't been so furious. He stepped back and the reporter scrambled out of his seat leaving his lunch unfinished. Ashton walked back into the kitchen, Hima fast on his heels. He kicked the door open to the break room and headed for the speed bag hanging in the corner. He'd learned the hard way punching walls usually resulted in the wall winning the fight so he'd given himself something easier on his hands.

Hima watched him from the door, his back and biceps rippling as he went two minutes at full speed. When he finally turned around she could see the anger had cooled somewhat. She hated that her boss looked incredibly sexy when he was angry.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" She asked when he turned back around.

"Nope, it'll just piss me off all over again, and I gotta get ready for another fucking interview. With a guy who already doesn't like me," Ashton put this coat back on and headed into the line to check on Rafi.

At least the second interview can't be worse, she thought, wishing she believed it.

*********

Calum eased his beat up Range Rover into the parking lot of Anne-Marie's amongst the Mercedes, Audi's, and Teslas. He cursed the traffic when he checked the time. He was late, and they were busy. Not a good look he thought, grabbing his bag.

He smiled at the ladies waiting for a table before introducing himself to the impossibly serene hostess. He was quickly led to a table in an alcove not far from the kitchen. As he pulled out his voice recorder and notebook, he noticed a young woman heading his way. Her black hair was knotted tightly in a bun on top of her head, and her chef's coat had a large streak of what might be hollandaise sauce. He remembered his editor, Jacqueline, telling him Anne-Marie's had a female sous chef. He checked the notes she'd given him quickly as she was stopped by a server. Hima, Culinary Institute of America graduate, 23, Indian maybe?

"Hello I'm Hima Singh, you must be Calum Hood," she greeted him. From up close, he noticed that her eyes were a rich golden brown and that her smile didn't reach her eyes. He chalked it up to her youth; his editor said she was 23 but she looked like a teenager. He mentally stopped himself there. He'd become jaded by one too many husband/wife teams in recent years trying to rebrand a post-divorce startup as a "new adventure." While the divorce was true, Calum knew Ashton's history.

"Yup that's me, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hima," he shook her hand, relieved to see her relax a bit.

"Chef Irwin will be out shortly. He's helping with a problem in the back" she glanced towards the kitchen, and Calum had a feeling she was lying.

"Can I get you something while you wait? Do you like coffee? We have a house blend cold brew Chef Irwin selected himself that we roast and grind on-site," she asked motioning towards the sign listing the daily selection of teas and coffee.

"Thanks, but maybe not coffee. I'm nervous enough without more caffeine," he admitted, "but the lavender and blackberry infused lemonade sounds amazing." He smiled and her face softened.

"Absolutely," she signaled to Zia who brought Calum his drink and a basket of warm, fluffy yeast rolls with Anne Marie's cinnamon honey butter. The smell reminded Calum he'd skipped breakfast as his stomach began to rumble.

"So you're Chef Irwin's sous chef? I heard a rumor you were a partner as well," he asked, almost drooling as he tore into the soft bread, watching the steam escape.

"Yes sir," Hima's smile finally reached her eyes, and she sat down across from him. "When he got his core team together for Anne Marie's, there's three of us total. Desean and Rafi are his kitchen managers, and he gave us the opportunity to buy in as minority investors, no pun intended."

"These rolls are incredible. Please take one before I finish this whole basket and ruin my lunch. How long have the three of you worked for Ashton, excuse me, Chef Irwin?" He asked.

"Desean and Rafi were part of his Lune Rouge crew. They go way back, but he met me fresh out of school and took me under his wing," she told him.

"Did you go to CIA?" Calum was jotting down notes, getting a feel for the story.

"I wish, it's so pretty up there. My twin brother attended Brown, and I went to Johnson and Wales so we could stay close."

"You're a twin? Is he a chef as well?" Calum asked.

"Are you kidding? He's a lawyer, of course, my parents had to have one in the family," Hima laughed.

Zia appeared beside their table. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Rafi is looking for you, Hima."

A worried frown replaced her warm smile and Calum felt his nerves bubbling back up. He glanced around and caught sight of Ashton, flushed and sweaty from the heat of the kitchen, poking his head around the corner. Their eyes met, and Calum felt like he'd been hit by lightning.

Hima saw his reaction and whipped around to see what Calum was looking at. Spotting her boss she quickly excused herself and hurried to the back.

Zia cleared her throat and Calum realized she was still standing next to his table.

"Would you like to try Rafi's plantain skewers while you wait? It's my favorite thing here, and it'll leave room for whatever these geniuses cook up," she asked with a smile and a wink.

He nodded and she headed to the server station to put the order in. Calum looked around and started taking notes. The most striking thing about the decor was how they'd used diffused skylights for soft lighting to accent the Nakashima-style crafted wooden furniture. Thanks to his Mom’s love of Antiques Roadshow when he was younger Calum discovered his preference for natural grain wood and bespoke pieces. He liked the use of pastel neon signs to complement the muted green and blue tones of the mosaic tile floors and he thought the framed pictures of what he assumed were family photos of the staff provided a really nice personal touch. The largest photo was in the bar of Ashton and his mother, the restaurant's namesake, Anne Marie.

Zia set a plate down in front of him. "The boss will be out in a minute., Let me get you some more tea," she told him.

The skewers consisted of chunks of pineapple, plantain, red onion, and sweet potato grilled and dusted with chili powder and brown sugar served with a yogurt sauce for dipping.

Calum was almost finished with the first one when Ashton came out of the back, making his way towards him. The chef stopped to talk to several customers, the hostess, and Zia before he made it to Calum's table. Cal licked his fingers, wiping his hands clean with a Sani-wipe before standing up and offering a handshake.

Ashton took his hand and Calum wasn't expecting it to feel so soft. Caught off guard Calum stammered out an introduction as he sat, but he noticed Ashton just nodded, barely listening.

"If today isn't a good day we can reschedule," Calum sipped his tea, his throat suddenly dry.

"I'm here aren't I?" Ashton snapped. He folded his arms across his chest, his hazel eyes narrowing at Calum. "I still remember your first review you know."

Calum's pulse was racing. He hated confrontation, and he hadn't expected Ashton to kick off right away. He knew he'd better suck it up and apologize if this wasn't going to go completely off the rails.

"Listen, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have been such a dickhead." As he spoke Ashton scoffed at him and Calum felt his cheeks get warm. "I was young and stupid. I let something personal affect that review. I'm sorry."

"Personal? With Luke? What do you mean by that?" Ashton went from annoyed to hostile.

Calum realized he'd said something wrong but wasn't sure what exactly. He was floundering trying to think of what to say next.

"Nothing with Luke, no no no. I was involved with Finn and we weren't getting along. It's so stupid I know, but I think you're a great chef. The new place looks incredible, and Hima is a delight."

The anger drained from Ashton's face, leaving him looking empty and sad. His head dropped to his chest, and Calum held his breath waiting for him to speak.

"I'm really sorry, it's not you, but I can't do this right now. Maybe we can reschedule or something. My apologies, but I have to get back to work," Ashton mumbled, standing up.

Calum spotted Hima watching them from the podium, chewing on her lip, her black eyes wide with concern as Ashton hurried back to the kitchen. Calum started to get up but she was too quick for him.

"Well, aren't you lucky. I'm going on my lunch and I hate to eat alone," she slid back into the seat across from him. "Please forgive my boss. He's had a rough day, but I'm better company anyway." She waved to Zia who headed their way. "You gotta try the toasted gnocchi with gorgonzola cream sauce if you like cheese, but if you want something lighter the apple carrot kale wrap is excellent too," she smiled at him, and to her relief he smiled back, both of them realizing the situation might be salvageable after all.

(A/N: y’all my tag list, much like my life, is a hot mess. I know some of what I write isn’t for everyone. If you want tagged in part 2 of this fic or my upcoming smuts, pink kink series, or dad!calum series please let me know. I apologize for my previous mistake)

@sublimehood @tea4sykes @be-ready-when-i-say-go @scribblesos @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @wildmichaelflower @castaway-cashton @damselindistressanu @notinthesameguey @cashtonasfuck @irwinkitten @mermaidcashton @malumsmermaid

#calum hood #ashton irwin #5sos writing collab #cashton smut #cashton slash #Calum Hood smut #ashton irwin smut #cashton #calum 5sos #ashton fanfic #ashton 5sos #5sos

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that-there-is-a-wierd0 · 4 years

Text

‘I’m sorry Erie’ (AEwVS one-shot)

[Alice, Erie, Tiara] Major spoilers for the game/ angst/ hurt and no comfort/ mild depictions of violence/ depictions of panic attacks

Hiii. Guess who made another advanced education one shot :). Not that I haven’t got to the history level yet, and this post may be edited for grammar mistakes and inserting additional trigger warnings if need be. Nonetheless, hopefully you enjoy :P

Somewhere in the History level, a water fountain sloshes lazily. The ambient noise of water splashing can be heard from all over the level, creating a soothing and natural lullaby, enjoyed by both staff and students. The sound of papers shifting can also be heard. Smooth thin surfaces lightly scratching against rugged, cold tile. A body shifts, desperate for warmth, barely mumbling about the chill they’ve grown accustomed to.

Sometime around 2:00 AM, Alice Freudenmacher continues to shift uncomfortably on the pathetic pile of papers she calls a bed. She opens her phone, and peers at the time with silent despair. Once in a fetal position, she rolls on her back and opts to stare at the ceiling. She’s already tried playing Tetris for some hours, but she’s grown bored of doing so nearly every night of the week. Turning the screen off, she huffs out of frustration before deciding what she wanted to do with her time. Too mentally exhausted to revise history questions and too frustrated to simply lie on her back, Alice thinks that going for a walk will do her good. Maybe if she spends some energy walking, then she would get tired and finally get some sleep.

Alice hesitantly lifts one leg at about 45 degrees, and let it hang in the air for a minute.

Nothing.

Alice smiled. This must mean that Tiara left a while ago, and she was left alone in the level. Tiara would have forced Alice to stay still, as she is disturbed by major movements. She puts her leg down and uses both to get up from her paper pile, stretching in the process. She’s still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, so she does not need to do anything else before pocketing her phone and beginning to roam. Alice begins to walk around her level, no longer concerned with the time. Her bare feet make soft taps on the tile, lost to the echo of the empty level. She walks towards a wall and gently places her hand on it, feeling the light and aged wallpaper beneath her palm. Keeping her pace, she continues with her mind on automatic, until the gentle ambience of splashing water can be distantly heard.

With her ears perked, Alice makes her way to the marble water fountain. Alice does not know where it came from, nor how the school would collect the funding for that type of thing, but nonetheless, it’s here. She walks over to the edge of the fountain, barely gazing her reflection in the dark. She briefly captured the neutral frown on her face, her eyes naïve yet darkened with fear. Without much further observation, Alice knows she has changed.

Much has changed since the curse started.

First, it was everyone around her. Since Mr. Cleany was a friendly person, he and she both got along pretty well. But suddenly, he became more involved with cleaning trash than anything else, leaving Alice with few others to talk to. In the math level, she was disgusted with the state of the cafeteria and preferred to stay away. Laura and Viktor won’t talk to her much either, citing that they had ‘more important things to do than talk to a measly human’. In the language level, Marzia would make snide remarks about how Alice was ‘undeserving’, given her small affinity for Erie. Phonty held the same attitude. She chose to ignore their comments, but they did not hurt any less.

She was so grateful to have Erie as a partner.

Erie was strong and was able to defend her from the verbal abuse of the other staff with rebuttals of her own. She had a confident attitude, and rarely backed down from challenges the staff or students presented her with. But she was also sweet and gentle, telling Alice that she is her favorite human, telling Alice that she loves her, that she will do anything for her, living for her.

That Erie would be there for Alice no matter what.

Alice breath lightly caught in her throat. Unwelcome memories start flooding into her mind, and no matter what Alice tries to do, she knows that she will have to relive what happened between her and Erie.

One day, as the curse was re-activated by Angell getting a notebook answer wrong, Tiara took over Alice’s body. Large black tendrils shot out of her body, tearing some new skin and breaking through where scabs had once formed. Alice could do nothing but cry out in distress as Tiara dominated over her once again, her mind fuzzy and numb.

“TIARA!”

Startled, Tiara quickly looks up. Stomping towards her was that robot girlfriend of hers, Erie. Just by the looked of unfettered rage of her screen, Tiara readied to defend herself.

“LET GO OF ALICE! YOU DO NOTHING BUT HURT HER!”

Not as fluent in English as Viktor, Tiara only hisses and growls at Erie, sending the same message. Tiara forced Alice to crouch as she brings up all four of her arms to the air, ready to fight.

If she could, Alice would be shaking from the emotional conflict. She knows that Erie is only trying to protect her, and she knew that what constantly happens to her body was not at all healthy. She’s always miserable cycling between sleep schedules, allergic reactions to spores, eating habits, and having no control over her body. She hates having to feel her wounds constantly reopen over and over again, the blood soaking her back and making her clothes stick. She hated all of it.

But by extension, she knows Tiara was no better fighting off the curse than Viktor. Alice can feel her personal isolation, her persistent longing for Viktor’s company, her lost desperation to save Tarwill World, her misplaced anger. Alice was aware that Tiara had come to a completely new dimension, with nothing to her name, and no one to talk to.

Fear was the emotion that bonded Tiara and Alice.

Without any control, Alice takes a front seat to Tiara lashing out at Erie. She jumps forward with her arms bared. Anticipating the attack, Erie lurches back, making sure not to get slashed by her foe. As Tiara focuses on slashing, Erie continues to sidestep her, noting the pattern of which her arms were being used. Luckily, Tiara’s tendrils were long and not scythe-like, so Erie easily grabs two arms, and seamlessly transitions them into one hand. That leaves the other two. Holding on to a pair, Erie utilizes her height and sweeps Tiara under her feet. Being unable to account for the imbalance due to the body she was in, she falls flat on her back and is pinned down by Erie, her other hands pinned by Erie’s knees.

“I WON’T LEAVE!! NO WANT!!” Tiara cries angrily.

Erie is blank faced. She slowly draws a small red plant from a back pocket and gently brings it to Tiara’s face.

“And I don’t think I gave you an option.”

Alice felt the rising anxiousness that rose within Tiara’s chest, uncomfortable and suffocating. She never felt Tiara being scared before, just angry most of the time. Now, waves of nausea were making their way through Alice’s torso. She had also never seen the crueler side of her girlfriend either. Maybe moody, but never so calm like the brewing clouds of a catastrophic storm.

Erie finally brought the plant in contact with Tiara’s face. All hell broke loose inside of Alice.

Tiara begins to scream at pitches that Alice never previously imagined, one that bring a dull ring to Alice’s ears. Tiara begins to howl from pain and thrashes against Erie’s weight, desperate to be free. Alice feels the panic, fear, sadness, and regret amalgamating in her chest, running through the polymorph’s body. Her vocal cords were suddenly ragged and choked as Tiara continues to struggle. Her skin felt like it was a flaming inferno that slowly melted her flesh.

Please stop! Please stop! Please stop! Please stop! Please stop! Please stop! Please stop!

Finally, Tiara’s control seems to be weakening as she surrendered, and Alice seizes the opportunity to regain control of her body, the nuances of physical senses fully returning to her. Alice began coughing due screaming. As she recuperates, she can somewhat process what Erie was saying.

“Alice! Are you ok?” Erie gently asks as she gets off of Alice, tendrils now returning within her body.

“I’m...mostly fine.” She responds as she softly lays a hand on her side, nervously eyeing the wound where Tiara once was. She clears her throat.

“W-What was that plant you produced Erie, if I may ask?”

Erie grinned, a smile that Alice was strangely wary of.

“So, one of the students made it to Viktor’s home. And there are poisonous plants that can deter Tarwills! I told the student to bring one for me, so we can get rid of Tiara!” Erie said with enthusiasm as she looked down at the ivy in her hands. Alice also gazes at the plant, but with horror. Being a history teacher, she was somewhat interested in the history of the Tarwill’s existence. At her pestering, Viktor vaguely stated that their home was invaded by a plant, and said that he wished to speak of it no further.

That plant…it must be the one Viktor mentioned!

Alice spoke without forethought.

“Erie…no…please don’t tell me you hurt Tiara.”

She was met with confusion.

“What do you mean? Do you think it’s fair that she hurts you, but you don’t want to hurt her?” Something was coming, and Alice was scared of what may happen if she pushed this conversation. But, strangely enough, she still wanted to fight on Tiara’s behalf.

“But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I think…I think I understand how she feels!”

Erie, dumbfounded, retorts with anger.

“IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT SHE FEELS. What matters to me is that you are ok. I could care less about Tiara! I’m tired of seeing you miserable all the time because of her.”

Alice felt an inkling of repulsion. Surely Erie was not so…inconsiderate?

“You have a point my love, but I think that does matter! You need to realize that Tiara is hurting too, and she can’t control her actions during the curse!”

“Then why can’t she just leave your body and go find someone else to pester, huh? I should not be arguing with you about this, it’s ridiculous that you offer yourself to someone that always hurts you.”

Both of them knew they were past the point of return.

“That’s not what I’m doing! I’m just trying to help and understand her! She doesn’t have anyone to talk to! She can’t go to Viktor; he only sees her as a threat!”

With Erie’s emotions fully derailed, she screams.

“I NEED SOMEBODY! I NEED YOU, ALICE!”

Both of the jolted from the sudden action. Alice’s passive nature made her and Erie’s relationship practically fight-free. And yet, here they were screaming at each other, casually misunderstanding each other.

Erie is the first to get up. With tears, she refuses to say anything more to Alice. The old conversation topic that always goes in circles was nothing new to either of them. What was new was the fight. Erie simply walks away, not bothering to heal Alice’s wounds. Alice so badly wanted to scream for Erie, to run back and embrace Erie with her arms. She wanted to be forgiven, to forget what happened between them. To tell Erie that she loves her forever and she’s sorry and that she’ll never act that way again. But she can’t, because that would mean ceding her point. And Alice did not want to give up on Tiara.

And just like on that day, Alice can only double over and sob into her palms.

Somewhere, as a hidden spectator watches Alice, they turn with silent and heavy footfalls to one of the level’s many walls. Making sure they are quiet and far away enough from Alice, they carve a message into the wall, big enough to be highly noticeable. They linger at their work for a moment, before gently sinking to the ground as a mask.

“I’M SORRY ERIE”

#alice freudenmacher #erie #Tiara #fanfic #advanced education with viktor strobovski #headcanon #long textpost #textpost

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deancaspinefest · 5 years

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Write First Then Read | Posting on April 18 Fic by MittenWraith Art by dmsilvisart

Dean spent his life split in two-- the Dean who showed up to work every weekday to give his students the tools they'd need to grow into their best selves, and the Dean who spent the rest of his time actively involved in the fandom for his favorite tv show. Elementary school guidance counselor and prolific author of slash fiction didn't seem like compatible realities. It was easier to keep those two halves neatly locked in their own boxes. Or he'd thought it was, until he met the adorable librarian at his new school. There was just something about Cas that broke through all of Dean's defenses.

Cas had chosen his career path for his own happiness. Fostering the love of stories and storytelling in his students was fulfilling, but he kept his own fanfic writing to himself. His online fandom life was the one thing he reserved purely for his own enjoyment, even if the price of that enjoyment was complete anonymity in the fandom. Or it had, until the new guidance counselor joined the staff at school and gave him a reason to question everything.

Meanwhile, online... Impala67 and FicFeathers, long time friends and beta readers for one another, were pushed to question what exactly their relationship was, and whether it could survive without the anonymity they'd both always insisted on. Of course it all had to blow up right before their draft deadline.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Dean slogged through his morning routine. Staying up well past two in the morning to write the end of the fic he’d been working on for months now had probably not been the greatest choice, in retrospect. He’d set his personal draft deadline months ago, though, when he’d landed this new job. It might not have been due for claims in the NealEm Pinefest until the end of September, but he didn’t want to have to deal with the pressure of feeling his way around a new workplace while rushing to finish his fic.

Plus it wasn’t like he could casually explain the obsessive hobby weighing heavily on his mind to his new coworkers. Yeah, in my spare time I write novel-length gay fanfiction about two dudes from a pulpy horror tv show.

Yes, he knew there was nothing inherently wrong with writing slash fanfiction for his favorite show, nor with his particular television genre preferences, but he also knew he’d have a difficult enough time being accepted as a male guidance counselor at an elementary school as it was. There’d apparently already been a few objections to his hiring, but Principal Baker had tried to tell him that it had more to do with parents missing the retiring Missouri Moseley than a specific objection to Dean himself taking over her old position.

“We’re a close-knit school,” Mildred had assured him the week before during his final interview at the Edlund School, after she’d convinced him to call her Mildred instead of Principal Baker. “We’re like a family, and sometimes we find it difficult to let go when someone’s decided it’s time to move on. Everyone will warm up to you once they get a chance to know you, Dean. I have every confidence in you. You’re gonna fit right in.”

Dean had tried to give her his best smile as she continued their tour around the rest of the school, but he’d already been overwhelmed. Fitting in at work had been pretty low on his priority list for the last few months. Higher up the list of things to worry about had been sending out a ream of job applications, moving halfway across the country, uprooting his entire life, and settling in to a town where the only people he’d really known had been Sam and Rowena. And even they were still a half hour away. At least Dean had his online community and the Pinefest to keep him feeling connected. If only his entire fandom crowd actually lived in suburban Maryland, secretly disguised as all his new neighbors he’d barely had a chance to meet yet. Or better yet, as his new coworkers. That was probably hoping for too much.

(Continue reading on Saturday April 18)

#Destiel fic #Dean/Cas fic #SPN fic #DCPF promos #DCPF 2020 #two person love triangle #teacher au #dean and cas write fanfic #mittensmorgul #dmsilvisart

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antimatterpod · 4 years

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Transcript - 72. What About Manperson?

This transcript is SO LARGE that the first eight attempts to share it broke Tumblr. (Tumblr, sweetheart, it’s a plain text file, if Usenet and dial-up could handle it, I’m sure you can cope.)

You can listen to the original episode here.

Anika: Welcome to Antimatter Pod, a Star Trek podcast where we discuss fashion, feminism, subtext and subspace, hosted by Anika and Liz. This week, we're taking a trip back to 1977 to discuss a write up of a panel on 'feminism in Treklit'.

Liz: And I pushed for this one because I promised us [an episode about] zines, and I had misremembered where the zine archive was. And then I stumbled across this essay, and it was so interesting and wild, and I figured we could probably get some discussion out of it.

Anika: Absolutely. I just want to start by saying that 'Treklit' is the cutest little word ever.

Liz: I know!

Anika: 'Treklit'. I love it so much.

Liz: And there's no, "Oh, no, we mustn't call it literature. It's just fan fiction" about it. Because there were no tie-in novels back then, there were just a handful of novelizations and so forth. So go for it, ladies!

Anika: Really bad ones, too.

Liz: Yeah, yeah.

Anika: I've read those. They're bad.

Liz: The panelists in this discussion were Sharon Ferraro, who was a zine publisher, fic writer and con organizer, and Jean Lorrah, a fic writer, novelist and editor, who would go on to write tie-in fiction, including The Vulcan Academy Murders and the TNG novel Survivors, which we discussed in our tie-in fiction episode. And this panel took place at SekwesterCon in 1976. It was tape-recorded by one fan and written up by the [convention] organizers for a zine.

Anika: Which is also adorable.

Liz: I know! And it sounds like just the whole room got into it. And it was so interesting! I can only imagine the drama if this panel was held today, because they sit down and start calling out authors and fics by name and title. And one of the authors stands up and argues back. And it's just wildly interesting, and a snapshot of fandom, and fic writing fandom, at the time.

Anika: Amazing. You put that note, you know, "Can you imagine if this panel was held today," and I was thinking about it, I was like, it sort of is, but it's in social media and in comments.

Liz: Yeah.

Anika: But like, even there, there's not really so much of a -- there's a lot of discourse, you know how we use that word now, "discourse", sort of to mean something completely different than what it actually means.

But if there's that there's still sort of this, etiquette to it, I would say. If someone leaves you a nasty comment on a fic and you didn't ask for it, everybody will come in and say, "That was inappropriate, you shouldn't have done that."

And even online, if you're going to say, "Oh, I've just read this horrible Star Trek fan fiction, it was so bad and so ridiculous," like you don't use the names and you don't link to it. You protect the anonymity of the person. And so it's sort of like, yeah, even even though we can still be just as vicious and just as critical, there is sort of this accepted way of doing things.

Liz: Yeah.

Anika: That this discussion sort of flies in the face of, which is interesting, it's like, huh, you know, they can you can go both ways on that. That has pros and cons.

Liz: Yeah, there was a discussion on Twitter a few weeks ago about racism in fandom and on AO3. One person cited a very specific Michael/Lorca slavery AU, and I knew exactly which fic she was talking about. And I have shared her opinion, and that fic is vile, and I hate it. And I hate that it's on AO3 and there's no way to block it when I search for Lorca fic.

But no one was linking to it. No one was saying this to the author's face. Apparently people have tried to go, "This is a very bad idea for a fic," and she's just like, "LOL, whatevs!"

We are critical. But there's also just too many people in fandom to get all of us in a room or on one mailing list to be part of this discussion.

Anika: It's so interesting that you mention mailing lists, because I was there for the mailing list, um, Trek stuff. And I do remember, you know, there was a lot of -- I guess it was like camps, you know, people who would be on one side or the other of a discussion. And that could get pretty intense sometimes. I don't have any -- it was sort of the end of it when I was involved, so I feel like I witnessed the move from email list to online, I don't know--

Liz: Blogs.

Anika: Yeah, like blogs and all, your own space, I guess.

Liz: Yes.

Anika: As opposed to -- we would like email each other our fan fictions, and they wouldn't go anywhere else, it would just be on this email list, and the copy of the email list that was in Yahoogroups, or whatever.

Liz: And if you were, for example, part of a Janeway/Chakotay group, you weren't necessarily with your friends or people you knew. Certainly for me, my first mailing group was JetC22, and I just signed up and was allocated to this particular group. And there were some people there that I liked very much, and there were some people there that I really, really disliked. And--

Anika: Right.

Liz: --from there that gave me a foundation to go to the people I did like, "Hey, let's start our own group with hookers and booze."

Anika: Right. It's amazing and crazy to think, "Oh, we could just all have a conversation in one room and discuss it all." And that was cool.

Liz: I'm sort of glad that we don't have to go back to those days, but at the same time, like, I like to think that these ladies would look at my fic and go, "Oh, yeah, she's totally feminist by the standards of 1976."

Because the essay starts off, "Feminism in much of Treklit can be regarded as non-existent, particularly in GRUP type stories." And GRUP was an adult content zine which took its name from the slang for grown ups in the TOS episode "Miri. And I'm like, I can't think of a worse thing to name your smut zine.

Anika: I know! That's so, so bad. I'm turned off immediately, but that's just me here in 2021.

Liz: Right. And it's interesting that they're complaining here that the smut fic was very much generic, which I think is still a complaint these days. Sometimes you read a fic and you're like, "I don't think that really taught me anything new about the characters, I have no insight into how this author feels about them, save that she's sort of mashing her action figures together." Which is not a bad thing, but it's not what I enjoy in fic

Anika: Right, it's definitely not what I enjoy in fic. I think that my interests are very well known at this point, and it's pretty much never sex.

Liz: No.

Anika: So. Oh, well!

Liz: It goes on to say, "Some stories are anti-feminist in that women are segregated out of them. Action is all concerned with the male characters. And the implication is that women are not liable to participate in such matters." I like to think that fandom has moved on.

Anika: Well...

Liz: Yeah.

Anika: Yes. Yes, fandom has moved on, but has society?

Liz: Well, no. I think what's notable here is that they're not specifically talking about slash fic, they're probably talking about, I guess what in the X-Files fandom was called case files or casefics, where it's basically, "I'm writing a Star Trek episode, but in prose format." And they're sort of reflecting The Original Series in that it is very dudely.

Anika: Yeah, absolutely.

Liz: You know, we say, "Oh, fandom is so subversive, fic is about reclaiming the narrative." But honestly, some people write fic because they like the narrative and they want more of it. And there's nothing inherently wrong with that, but if you're not applying a critical eye to your source then maybe you're reproducing its problems.

Anika: Hmm, it's interesting. I mean, I just said I, I have very specific likes and dislikes. And there's a lot of stuff like -- casefic, I don't really need, because I can watch the show for that. But curtain fic, which is, like --

Liz: The domestic...

Anika: -- the characters just, like washing the dishes or arguing about Netflix, like that. I eat it up. That's my favorite thing. There's no saving the world, there's just, "We saved the world, and now we're going home to relax and, and decompress--"

Liz: Yes.

Anika: "-- and do whatever we want to do." Like, those are the fics that I like.

Liz: And "what happens after you save the world?" is a good story.

Anika: It's not subversive, but it is something that's not in the fiction as it stands.

Liz: I think it is subversive in a small way, because you're adding the domesticity which has been excluded from the primary narrative, and in doing so, highlighting that it, too, has value.

Anika: It definitely has value.

Liz: I really like casefic that's character-driven, that's about the people. And I used to have that itch scratched by tie-in fiction, and it doesn't so much anymore -- Una McCormack, thank God, she exists. But, yeah, it's not really something we see so much now that tie-in fiction exists.

And also, I think there's a stronger impetus to file serial numbers off and turn a fic into an original work. And if you're going into all the effort of writing a plot anyway, just throw in that little bit more effort and make it original. I feel like there's less need for casefic.

Anika: Yeah, I agree. But I don't search it out, so maybe it's there, and I just don't read it.

Liz: Yeah, possibly. I have this idea for a Lorca/Cornwell casefic, where they're in their thirties, and they have to go undercover as a married couple on, like, a human settlement that's outside of the Federation. And the reason I haven't started writing it is that I'm like, well, it's not very shippy, so where's where's the hook?

Anika: "Right. So why am I doing it?"

Liz: Yeah!

Anika: I get that.

Liz: The essay goes on, "Other fics concern women, but in a very negative light," and they go on to discuss two fics in particular. One has the rather spectacular title of "Murder, Rape and Other Unsocial Acts". And it's -- I looked it up, it has a Fanlore page of its own. -- it's about a Klingon family, and there's a lot of comedy rape because it's the '70s. And ... yeah, it seems like something that would not really fly these days, and obviously, it was subject to criticism at the time.

And the other fic is titled "An Abortive Attempt", in which a human gynecologist is effectively extradited to Vulcan to face charges for performing an abortion on a Vulcan woman.

Anika: Amazing!

Liz: This is such a specifically 1970s concept. And I have to disagree that this is not a feminist story. This, to me, is a wildly feminist story. Just because something bad happens to a woman -- I'm guessing that this -- I couldn't find it online, but I'm assuming that this is not actually pro-life propaganda, and therefore it is a feminist story, defending choice. I guess? Probably?

Anika: I guess. It's amazing that -- just thinking about, you know, what do Vulcans think about abortion is like -- oh, my goodness! What a great thing.

Liz: Because we would go, "Well, obviously reproductive rights and controlling fertility down to the micro level is very logical." Pardon me, I'm losing my voice. We would think that extreme reproductive rights and micromanaging fertility is very logical.

But then you think, "Well, they've got these arranged marriages, and it's really hard to get a divorce, and Spock is actually quite sexist in The Original Series." He's sort of the logic over feelings guy, as opposed to feminist Jim Kirk, who's like, "But feelings, Spock! They have their place. Women! They're so beautiful!" So, for the '70s, it's a logical extrapolation of Vulcan culture

Anika: Of pro-life Vulcans?

Liz: I guess?

Anika: I mean, yeah, I get it, I get it, but it's also -- I can't imagine it would happen very often on Vulcan, just because they know their cycles so well -- that sounds so weird. And so, if something came up, I feel like there would be a logical reason for it to be needed. I don't know. I just I feel like you could use logic to come up with [a reason] why you should have an abortion easier than why you shouldn't.

Liz: No, I agree. Like, I kind of perceive the Star Trek universe as being a lot like Lois McMaster Bujold's future, where we just control fertility so well and we have extra-uterine gestation anyway, so unwanted pregnancies aren't really an issue for people very often?

Anika: We can only hope.

Liz: It's a nice idea. But it's just interesting to me that this fic is such a reflection of the time in which it's written. And in twenty years, will people be looking back -- on their podcast that's broadcast straight into people's brains -- and going, "Wow, there were a lot of fics about gay marriage back then. Gosh, that's such a product of its time."

Anika: Oh, my goodness. I mean, again, we can only hope.

Liz: Yeah.

Anika: I would love for our progressive future to actually be progressive.

Liz: Yes, yes! I would love to do a thesis on something or something about tracking social progress through issues in fan fiction and depictions in fan fiction. One day, when I have time to do a PhD, and can also go to Iowa to go through their zine archive.

Anika: Cool.

Liz: Then we get to the discussion of specifically anti-feminist stories. And here they discuss a fic called "How About a Raffle?" in which -- it's a Kirk/Uhura fic, and Kirk accidentally sells Uhura into slavery.

Anika: Yikes. I don't think that just happens. Like I was gonna say it happens, but no. No, that's not not true. It doesn't just happen.

Liz: They're dealing with some Orions, and Uhura enters a dance contest, but it turns out that the winner is, like, the top slave or something.

Anika: Oh my God.

Liz: It's still racist.

Anika: I like the attempt to world build for the Orions

Liz: Don't get carried away. Mary Louise Dodge, the author, quote, "Rose and astonished the floor by stating that they were anti-feminist, and anyway, the Orion dancers were only humanoid, not human or intelligent."

Anika: Big yikes!

Liz: Big yikes indeed!

Anika: That is straight up from, you know, stories about masters--

Liz: Straight up slavery?

Anika: Yeah. Like, you know, and, yeah, bad. Bad. Don't ever go there ever. [laughs] I don't want to be an anti...

Liz: Well, it's interesting! I looked up Mary Louise Dodge, and she was involved in fandom for a really long time. She was on the Welcommittee, she ran the mailroom, she organized cons. She wrote a lot of fic. And I feel like we would have crossed paths, had I been in fandom at the time, because she was very much a het writer. And she wrote a lot of Kirk/Uhura, which I probably would have shipped back then.

And she was very vocally anti-slash and anti-porn. I've actually put a note here, that I guess you could call her fandom's first anti. After one con, she wrote a famous letter to a bunch of zines, complaining that there was smut -- smutty zines and smutty art openly displayed on the floor and in the art show. And, you know, "why can't we get back to the good wholesome values of the 1960s?"

Anika: Yay for concern trolling having a deep history.

Liz: You know, I do think smut should be opt-in. And certainly, she is the person responsible for, like, age statements in zines and stuff. And there were a lot of things in fan culture at the time that wouldn't be acceptable today, like dressing up as Spock and Kirk's erect penises. Can you imagine going to, like, Comic Con in that costume?

Anika: And seeing that?

Liz: Yeah, yeah. But at the same time, like, she's not talking about consent, she's talking about -- she just hates smut and hates slash, and is quite deeply homophobic.

Anika: Right.

Liz: And doesn't apologize, which I enjoy, but I've sort of started thinking of her as the Phyllis Schlafly of fandom.

Anika: You're Wrong About, the podcast, just did a deep dive into Tipper Gore versus, you know, like heavy metal, basically,

Liz: It's sitting in my podcast feed, but the Reply All expose on Bon Appetit came up and took precedence.

Anika: I understand your priorities. But it really reminds me of all this stuff. Not just what we're talking about here with Mary Louise, but also with the whole anti culture now.

Liz: Yeah.

Anika: And even in academia, the idea that should you put a content warning or not on your syllabus? And there is a difference between opting in, like, having it having it be clear what something is, versus censorship.

Liz: Yes!

Anika: And it's like, we've been talking about this for fifty years, and we still haven't figured that out. And it's just really interesting.

And the issue is that if you look at what Mary Louise has problems with, versus what Tipper Gore has problems with, versus what the whole anti-Reylo crowd have problems with, it's like the bar shifts, but what it comes down to is, "I don't like this, and therefore, it shouldn't be a part of society."

Liz: Yeah, as opposed to, "I don't like this, therefore, I don't want to see it."

Anika: Right. Which is the whole argument for, you know, using tags.

Liz: Yeah.

Anika: And using databases and having the little sticker that says explicit lyrics. It's not hurting anyone. But if there was like -- they wanted the occult stickers, and it's like, guys, you can't just go around saying, you know, "This is the occult." There are certain things that are subjective, and you can't decide to have a label that has that level of subjectivity.

Liz: Yeah. Yeah.

Anika: That's a slippery slope towards, you know, "Oh, now we're gonna have Muslim stickers, or we're gonna have Jewish stickers." You know, it gets really bad really quickly.

Liz: And there are certainly parts of America where Catholicism would get an occult sticker.

Anika: Exactly. So it's just really -- there are levels. And this is a conversation that, like I said, we've been having for a long time, and I think we're going to continue having for a long time.

Liz: I think it's good that we keep having this conversation, because the context is always changing. And we need to keep examining it.

Anika: As much as we were talking about the Lorca and Michael slave fic, that I'm not going to read and I'm not going to encourage in any way. But I also am not going to say she can't write it or post it. I just want to opt out.

And the same with Mary Louise and her "Let's accidentally sell Uhura into slavery." Like, that's nothing I ever want to read, and I'm kind of upset hearing about it. But okay, you're, you're allowed to do that. I don't want to read it. And I want to know that it's gonna happen so that I don't have to read it.

Liz: And, you know, the problem with AO3 is that there is no way to block this author, or to stop this fic from appearing in every single tag that the author applies. And I think particularly blocking someone is an option that they really need. When you look at zines, it's much, much harder to avoid -- unless you only subscribe to zines whose editors won't publish Mary Louise Dodge. And I'm sure that there were some, she seems to have been incredibly polarizing. But what if you want, you know, Nice Hetfic Zine issue three, and it has five great stories and one Mary Louise Dodge?

Anika: Right, exactly. The reason that we keep talking about it is there's no easy answer. There's just compromises. And it's hard. It's a thorny question.

Liz: And for the record, I would have subscribed to Nice Hetfic Zine issue three. And then I would have written a snarky letter to its letter column complaining about Mary Louise Dodge and her terrible fic, because that was acceptable at the time.

Anika: Exactly. That's the other thing. It's so interesting.

Liz: Yeah!

Anika: It's so interesting. And then, you know, comments on AO3 are like I would say at least eighty percent positive.

Liz: Yeah. And I think that's because comments are for the author. Whereas this is a review culture rather than a feedback culture.

Anika: Oooh, that's good.

Liz: So the discussion is less -- it's more readers talking to readers, than readers talking to writers.

Anika: Yes. That's another thing that I kind of wish we still had, fanfic treated as -- like, I would love to read some reviews or a deep dive into one author's recurring themes, or something like that. I would be super into it. I understand that people wouldn't like it -- the authors. But I would love it. And honestly, I wouldn't mind if people did it for me.

Liz: I was just going to say, the themes of domesticity -- and you write a lot of baby fic, but it's not because [you're going], "Oh, babies are so cute. I love children!" I'm sure you do, babies are cute. But it's about, "What do we, as flawed parents, pass on to our children? And how do we make them better than -- how do we make their lives better than what we've had?" And this seems to recur in all of your fics that I've read in any fandom.

Anika: So strange that I'm obsessed with the relationship between parents and children and their parents! Mm, so strange. And trauma. I know the things that I focus on. I focus on adoption, I focus on identity. I focus on sibling relationships. Like, these are things that are -- I think I've said before that everything I write is actually about me. I don't have to put a Mary Sue in anything, a nd I don't have very many original characters. But I one hundred percent give Katrina Cornwell my own backstory.

Liz: Right. And I've seen that in your fic. She -- often in your fics, she has lost a parent at a young age, and is dealing with that even into adulthood. But it doesn't feel like, oh, yeah, that's just Anika putting her own thing on Kat. It feels like exploring.

Anika: Yeah. Yeah, at least that's my intention. But yeah, so I would love to be even a part of like, a book club, or something where we meet each other and talk about it. Like, I think that would be so fun. And I'm sort of sad that that culture doesn't exist anymore.

Liz: It's sort of like how bookmarks on AO3 are for readers rather than writers. And sometimes, like, there's a piece of feedback that was attached -- it wasn't feedback, it was just a note attached to a bookmark of one of my fics that said, "really good handling of disability." And I was like, "This is the greatest feedback I have ever not really received."

But the other thing is, quite a few years ago, in Doctor Who fandom, I created a sock puppet and started reviewing the fics that were nominated for an award. It started out as a very mean, bitchy sort of thing to do, because I thought that the fics being nominated were not award-worthy -- note my own fics were nominated. So I was not a neutral observer.

But I wound up finding like it was a really interesting way of reading outside of my usual field and going, "Okay, well, this is a Ten/Rose fic, and I don't ship that. And this fic is almost entirely made up of things that don't resonate with me at all, and now I understand why I don't read this fit this sort of in this genre. But this is actually a really good fic, and I think that if you were a Ten/Rose shipper, you would really like it."

And then, you know, one of my so called friends revealed my identity on an anon meme, and there was wank, and people still think I'm one of the worst people in Doctor Who fandom which, yeah, it was a whole thing. I don't recommend doing this. It was not great. But in terms of reviewing fics as pieces of literature, it was a really interesting experience. And I actually had people say, "Hey, will you review my fic?"

Anika: I don't use beta readers very often, because I have a very particular way of writing, and I like my style, and I don't want to change it. So I don't give it to people and say, "Does this make sense? Did I forget something? You know, is this good?" I just don't need someone to tell me that before it's published.

Liz: Yep.

Anika: But once it's published, I would love someone to read it and critique it. I don't know why.

Liz: You are flying without a wire!

Anika: I just don't want to change it while I'm writing it. But I would love to know what people think of it after the fact.

Liz: That's -- that's very interesting!

And I do use a beta reader -- hi, I know you're listening -- because I have this problem where I don't close quotation marks, and she's very good at finding stuff like that. And she also knows when to tell me that I'm disappearing up my own butt, and when I am doing something really cool that she's enjoying, and I appreciate that. I appreciate you a lot.

Back to the essay, Jean Lorrah replied that it was not the treatment of the Orion women that was irritating, but Kirk's condescending good old boy attitude, "the cute little girl is drunk," and that that attitude coming from the female characters was unfortunately common in Trek literature. "Do my thinking for me."

Anika: Yeah.

Liz: They sort of move on to original characters. And apparently there was a trend of pairing off McCoy with a sweet, innocent eighteen-year-old girls.

Anika: Again, I don't want to be an anti. But why? What is that about?

Liz: Yeah, it's not the sort of thing that I find appealing.

Anika: My note here is just "yikes". I mean, doesn't McCoy have an eighteen-year-old daughter?

Liz: Yes. And according to Mary Louise, there was a lot of fic where he slept with his daughter. And I know--

Anika: No, no.

Liz: But because I don't fully trust Mary Louise is a source, I'm like, is that one fic she saw and it was an outlier and probably written to shock, like the notorious Draco/Lucius skullfucking fic, or was it an actual trend? And I'm pretty sure I really--

Anika: I'm disturbed. But I'm also like, wow, what was going on? What was that about? I'm very curious. I mean, I guess because McCoy is the oldest, and is the most paternal, but he's also the most, like, I don't want to say feminine, but, like, feminine.

Liz: He's a very caring person.

Anika: And so it's interesting. It's very interesting, you know, and I could definitely imagine being an eighteen-year-old girl, and deciding that I wanted to date, McCoy. Or like, I could imagine, of all of the people in Star Trek, he would be the best relationship, I can sort of see it going that way, and ending up with this crazy fic. But if it was a trend ... I'm just so interested. It's so weird.

Liz: And the thing is, these weren't eighteen-year-old girls generally writing these fics, these were, like housewives?

Anika: Yeah, housewives.

Liz: Yeah, adult women.

Anika: It's like the whole "Twilight is read by teenage girls and their mothers" thing.

Liz: Yes.

Anika: This is what it sounds like. To me.

Liz: This is not to disparage either housewives or mothers who read Twilight, because I feel like housewives, stereotypically, and middle aged women are as dismissed as teenage girls. But it's just interesting.

Anika: And they don't make anybody any money.

Liz: There's a very nice remark here. "Some of the reasons for badly drawn female characters is simply bad writing, and male characters are just as unrealistic, but this can improve." And then they talk about a specific series again, it looks like a series, like, pairing Sarek with a lady named Lorna. So Sarek gets his own Mary Sue.

Anika: I have to go off on a tangent on this because Lorna is a very specific name. It's pretty old fashioned at this point, like now, but my last name, Dane, is taken from Lorna Dane, who was an X Men character created in 1968. She was introduced in 1968, but then she joined the team in the late '70s. So Lorna Dane is Polaris, and she is Magneto's daughter, at least seventy-five percent of the time.

Liz: Right. His kids seem to have fluctuating identities.

Anika: And she's my favorite X Men, X Men, X Woman, whatever. X. My favorite X. So when I was published in a book of comic book essays, I was published under the name Anika Dane Milik. And so when I got divorced, and I changed my name, I just went to Dane.

Liz: That makes sense. Yes.

Anika: But it's like, it's Lorna, it's Lorna Dane, that's who it is. And this idea that this character that was created in the mid to late '70s, as Sarek's wife after Amanda died, I'm like, so, Sarek is now a part of my identity. And I am really excited about that! And apparently, Lorna's last name is Mitchell, so it's like Gary Mitchell's daughter, Lorna. But she's from the past. Everything about it is amazing. Everything about this, I had to look it up, and I'm so excited by the whole idea.

Liz: This sounds fantastic.

Anika: I love it. I love it, and now I get to be, in some universes, married to Sarek.

Liz: I am deeply sorry for you.

Then they go on to remark that from Lorna in one fic to Lorna in another, "there has been a vast elevation of consciousness". And it's like, as I read that, like my clothes turned into flares and my hair centre-parted... just peak '77

Anika: Yeah, you started hearing … what's that song from Hair.

Liz: Oh, I was dreaming about Hair last night.

Anika: It was like in my head. But, you know, the morning song.

Liz: Yeah, yeah.

Anika: "In the... nah, nah, nah." That song. Anyway, you start hearing that song, I start hearing that song, just can't remember the lyrics.

And that sentence is also so supremely Lorna Dane. The reason that I love Lorna Dane so much is that she's completely different every single time you meet her. She has all of these like, weird relationships with her parents, both Magneto and then her adoptive parents. Her relationships are all crazy. And she never feels good enough, and she's an only child, and all she ever wants is siblings. And she's -- there's so much. And it's literally crazy. I mean, everything in the X Men is crazy. But she is, by far, one of the most -- like just the fact that every other story she's either Magneto's daughter or not is enough.

Liz: Honestly, I'm getting very powerful Wanda Maximoff vibes from this?

Anika: Oh, yeah, exactly.

Liz: I find it interesting that Magneto's daughters tend to be sort of very fluid, dynamic characters whose personalities and backstories are always changing.

Anika: And going back to something we were just discussing in this essay, there's this sort of idea that Magneto can be super powerful, and be able to destroy the planet at a whim, and he is very serious and sad, and we have a lot of respect for him even if we don't agree with him.

Whereas Wanda and Lorna have the same amount of power and can destroy things, and they are crazy. And they need to be, have to be--

Liz: They're unstable and they need to be stopped.

Anika: --locked up, and are a danger to themselves and others. And it's like, okay, so Magneto definitely tried to take over the world four times, but he's not a danger to himself or others? You created an entire prison for him that no one else would ever need, yet he's not considered crazy or unstable or dangerous the way that Wanda and Lorna are.

Liz: Yeah.

Anika: That's a thing.

Liz: The next note in this essay is that a common theme in feminist Treklit is responsibility, and stories about women being given responsibility and handling it properly, or needing to learn responsibility and doing so.

My note here was, "Are women people?" but it turns out that this is a story that the comics and superhero genre, at least, is still grappling with, and I think WandaVision is doing it in a really interesting way. And Wanda's allies are Monica and what's her face? Darcy.

Anika: Darcy

Liz: Yeah. And Jimmy Wu, and to a lesser extent right now, Vision. But these, with one exception, are not white people -- sorry, not white men. And--

Anika: And Vision is played by a white man but I don't -- like he's one of those on the line kind of people.

Liz: Yeah, I'm just -- Paul Bettany...

Anika: He is a white man but he's also not, in the context of the story.

Liz: My feelings about Paul Bettany are very complicated for Johnny Depp reasons. So I'm lukewarm on wanting to see him, ever. But his performance is great, and all. And I just think it's depressing that this [storyline] is still something that media struggles with.

Anika: And it one hundred percent is. It's something that -- I mean, look at Rey.

Liz: Yes. So--

Anika: That's gonna be my answer to everything. Yeah, women are not people is generally the key. Women are vessels that we can put ideas onto, I guess, is the way it goes.

Liz: Yeah. And then the other issue they discuss is issues that are of specific concern to women, or of special concern to women, rather, and they talk about a fic where, quote, "a rape case threatens to obscure the issue of a female officer's rights by triggering an overprotective reaction".

Which, again, going by TOS alone, seems like a pretty valid basis for a fic -- look at look at all those episodes where Janice Rand is attacked, and the only people she has to go to about it are Kirk, Spock and McCoy. Even if it was Kirk's evil double that attacked her.

Anika: It's just bad.

Liz: It's -- yeah.

Anika: Again, I'm really interested in this idea that they wrote -- they were writing stories about rape, and not -- I mean, I haven't read the story, but it doesn't seem like it was sensationalizing rape. It seems like it was, "Hey, this is a thing that happened in canon that didn't get the treatment that I want. And so let's talk about that."

Liz: Yes. "And let's talk about how, not not the rape itself, but the reaction afterwards impedes justice, and recovery." That's super interesting, and still contemporary!

Anika: And still contemporary.

Liz: And then they talk about Mary Sue, and, you know, everyone on the Enterprise is extraordinary. But if you create a woman who is extraordinary, then she's a Mary Sue. And they debate, you know, do you write a male character and then make it female? Or do you try and create a three dimensional woman?

And I still see these discussions now, and I'm like, whatever gets you to a good character is a valid technique.

Anika: A couple of things really jumped out at me. One was "showed some problems Spock could have if he had been female, as well as first officer."

Liz: Yeah!

Anika: I'm very picky about gender swap fic. Because it can be done so poorly, so easily.

Liz: Yes.

Anika: But that's a really interesting question. If everything was the same, except Spock was a woman, what would that mean? I'm interested in that. And if it was done well, then it could be a really amazing story.

Liz: Right?

Anika: So I love that they're bringing these questions up. And then another one was, "when one writes a female officer onto the ship, and part of this usually lies with her occupation: what does she do? Why is she on the ship, and what is her function when she is sent down to the planet?"

And I'm just like, uh, I'm pretty sure you'd have to ask those questions about any original character that you made up?

Liz: Yeah. Men can have jobs too!

Anika: And so what it comes down to is that -- it goes back to the earlier comment about how there weren't women in the show, and the women that were in the show didn't get to do what the men did, that Uhura got to take command once, ever.

Liz: Yes.

Anika: And it was too late, basically.

Liz: And it was in the animated series. Which to an extent--

Anika: Which, who even watched?

Liz: Yeah, I don't want to say it doesn't count. But it's only just now being treated as a serious and valid part of the Star Trek universe. Aside from "Yesteryear".

Anika: So really, it's really interesting that they were sort of asking these questions seriously, amongst themselves, you know, and treating it with any kind of gravity, 'cos (a) I think the answer is obvious.

Liz: Yes.

Anika: And (b), we shouldn't have to answer this. What it's just the whole thing of "let's create a male character and, and write it as a man and then switch it at the end." Like, yeah, sure. And if you're not going to do that, which is fine, because gender does have an impact -- or you know, can, I should say can have an impact -- it's okay for someone's gender to have a meaning to them. But you shouldn't have an emotional and intellectual quandary about why this woman is on this ship.

Liz: If you wouldn't have that same quandary for a male character, why are you having it for this lady?

Anika: Right! They belong on the ship. That's my answer.

Liz: She's on the ship because that's her job. It's where Starfleet told her to be, the end.

Anika: Finally, the one that really, you know, just made me smile. "One dead giveaway of a Mary Sue is when everyone on the ship loves her except Kirk." That is my favorite fun fact that I've never heard before.

Liz: No, me neither. I've seen Mary Sues where Kirk loves her and Spock doesn't. And I've seen all sorts of Mary Sues, and they're all great.

Anika: It was just amazing. I I loved that idea. The idea that people are reading a story, and all of a sudden Kirk doesn't like someone, and they're like, "Mary Sue!" And that's it, that character is tainted and you can't see that character as anything other than a Mary Sue. It's just crazy. But amazing. And I'm not saying that it's not true. I just think it's hilarious.

Liz: I don't think it's a data point that became universal. Like you don't see this in Star Trek Mary Sue litmus tests. Remember litmus tests? Wow. Speaking of fandom history!

Anika: They were like 80 questions long.

Liz: I know!

Anika: And you had to put it in, and then it would tell you if your original character was a Mary Sue or not. And I will tell you, I don't write a lot of original characters, like I said, I never put in any original characters. But I constantly put in my version of canon characters. And the thing is that more than fifty percent of my answers were canon. I wasn't making things up about these people.I was reading the canon, when I was answering the question as my interpretation of the character that I saw on screen.

Liz: No, this makes perfect sense to me because -- I think it's Seanan McGuire who had an essay on LiveJournal, pointing out that "Mary Sue" is just another word for protagonist.

Anika: Exactly. So usually I would get, "You are close to the line of crossing over into Mary Sue-dom and you should take away at least one flaw," or, you know, something like that. It's just like, okay!

Liz: Whatevs!

Anika: I will tell Gene Roddenberry?

Liz: Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry, I need to summon the ghost of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to tell him that Sherlock Holmes is a Mary Sue.

Anika: You know who's a real Mary Sue? Watson.

Liz: Yes!

Anika: One hundred percent a Mary Sue.

Liz: I feel like Holmes is the idealized Mary Sue and Watson is the self insert Mary Sue.

Anika: Mm, I can see that.

Liz: "The panel then fled from Mary Sue stories."

Anika: As did we all.

Liz: And they talk about how it's difficult to create a good female character, because there aren't many templates to draw from in Star Trek. And--

Anika: Like I said.

Liz: Yeah. "There are plenty of strong masculine characters to work from, but very few women."

Anika: And that's the thing. Again, here in 2021, every woman in Star Trek has been called a Mary Sue at least once.

Liz: And honestly, most of [the women in TOS] are pretty interesting. Like, they're not necessarily strong people. But generally, they're more complex than we give credit for.

Anika: Right. So it's --first of all, just stop talking about Mary Sues and let it go. That's that's my take number one. And take number two, just because a woman is a woman and a new character in an old fandom does not mean that they are a Mary Sue automatically.

Liz: Yeah.

Then they talk about -- it's sort of a digression, which obviously we're familiar with here. "Most blonde women were dependent and ineffectual, well, brunettes were usually forceful, and control their own destinies." And they give the example of Majel Barrett, who goes from Number One to Chapel.

I had never thought of this, and I think overall, as a pattern, it holds for The Original Series. But I also think that there were, you know, existing stereotypes about blondes versus brunettes.

Anika: Yeah, I don't think that Star Trek--

Liz: No.

Anika: I don't think Star Trek created that idea.

Liz: No, you know, [in] Marilyn Monroe movies, she always has a brunette offsider, who's a lot smarter and more together than she is.

Anika: So strange, it's like, blondes are more beautiful and have more fun, and people are more interested in them. But the brunettes are the smart ones. And the ones with depth. That is just -- like, this is weird, okay?

Liz: Unless you get the sort of Hitchcock blonde who is terribly intelligent, but also cold and damaged. And that's Seven of Nine.

Anika: Yes.

Liz: But it's also interesting that they cite Chapel, because the whole reason that I wanted to do an episode on zines is that I have a paper copy of issue 25 of T-negative, which has a wonderful essay about Christine Chapel, basically saying, everyone writes her off as a dumb blonde with no agency who's only in love with Kirk. [Obviously I meant Spock, don't @ me…] And actually she is a really, really interesting character. And then the author goes on to discuss Christine in both canon and in fiction.

It was a wonderful essay, and I was going to cite it -- we talked about doing a Chapel episode, but Women at Warp had just done one. Justice for Christine Chapel, who's not even a character I really care about. But this essay made me want to.

Anika: Right, that's my take on a lot -- you know, there's the characters that I really, really, really care about, and everybody who listens to this podcast could name them. And then there's all the other women characters who -- like, I will meet you in an alley and punch you--

Liz: Right?

Anika: --to protect them, I will one hundred percent go to battle for every woman on Star Trek.

Liz: Yes. Even the ones I don't like

Anika: Because all of the arguments against them are sexist. That's where I'm at.

Liz: One day, I'm going to present the argument that Lwaxana Troi is narcissistic, and not necessarily fully abusive to Deanna, but she is not good to Deanna. And that's the only argument that I will accept against Lwaxana.

Anika: And the difference is that that is a critique of Lwaxana as a person, which is totally fair.

Liz: It's not just "she's middle aged and thinks she's sexy."

Anika: Right, we shouldn't put women on a pedestal, either. But the critiques aren't critiques, they're just, "I don't like" -- again, it's, "I don't like this, and I'm going to write them off." I just watched Star Trek 2009.

Liz: You did!

Anika: And I am so ready to go to battle for Uhura. Like, it's upsetting to me. I've seen that movie many times now. You know, like a dozen, let's say, -- I don't know.

Liz: I've seen it twice!

Anika: And I can just hear all the negative comments as I'm watching the show. Like, I'm sitting here and I'm watching the movie, and I just hear all this chatter. You know, Uhura is telling Spock to put her on the Enterprise, and there's eight hundred voices in my head saying how she's a nagging girlfriend. And I just like, "No, no, she is not!" She is standing up for herself the way that any person should, and the fact -- their relationship is a wrinkle to it. It is not the reason for it. And if Kirk did exactly the same thing, people would be applauding him.

Liz: Yes, yes.

Anika: So I can't. As I was watching the movie, every single thing that Uhura did, I imagined Kirk doing it, and having all of the people like you know, saying "Oh, he was the best version of Kirk." I was just like, ugh! And I know I'm saying that as someone who thinks that Chris Pine is the best version of Kirk...

Liz: You know, there are credible rumours that Strange New Worlds is going to feature a young Uhura. There's a casting call for a young African American woman to play a comms officer, whose name in the casting call is African, just as Uhura is based on the Swahili.

And I see people going, "Oh, good, Strange New Worlds is going to fix Uhura, they're going to do her properly." And I'm like, no, they're just going to do her differently. Peck!Spock is not better than Quinto!Spock. They're just different interpretations of Nimoy!Spock.

Anika: Mm hmm.

Liz: Anyway.

Anika: Yeah, so sorry, tangent, but I just get super defensive of these women characters because people are against them for really silly reasons.

Liz: Moving on, we hit a marvelous piece of fake news. "Another problem with female characters is that feminism can become too much an issue."

Anika: Oh, dear. I love this because literally like two paragraphs before that, they're saying that feminism is the reason like -- that the lack of female characters is the reason that it's hard to write female characters. It's like, guess what, guys, you're being feminist in that argument. And so now, these women are saying that there's too much feminism in my Star Trek, and I -- again, I'm pretty defensive.

Liz: They cite this amazing sounding fic when Number One is now -- it says in this recap, she is now an alien ambassador. But according to the Fanlore page for the fic itself, she is the captain of the USS Hood. And any Friends of DeSoto can just take a moment to say, "Best boss I ever had."

She sits down with a Romulan commander and they both, quote, "bitch interminably about being trodden on by the men in their lives, losing the plot amongst the complaints."

And like, maybe the fic is sort of hijacked by this, and the story it promised to tell is not the story that eventually came out. I just really, really want to read this fic.

Anika: I really want to read it too. And that's what I'm saying, that is the kind of stuff that I love to read and write in fic, which has absolutely nothing to do with the plot, but is all about their feelings and their lives and their interpretation of what's going on.

Liz: And I just love the idea of Number One and a Romulan, comparing notes. I'm just saying, the Romulans had women in command before the Federation.

Anika: Yeah. I ship it.

Liz: And they note that the theme of women cooperating with women is a good one, and just beginning to develop. And, you know, I still get a weird warm, self-righteous glow whenever I write that in my fic, so I'm glad it's still a thing. I wish it was more of a thing. And then they move on--

Anika: This is the best.

Liz: --to the most important question. What about the men?

Anika: Okay, so again, I have to tell a story about today. My most popular fanvid on YouTube is a vid about the animated women in Star Wars. So it's all animation, Rebels and Clone Wars. And that's -- actually, I made it before Resistance. So that's it, Rebels and Clone Wars. And this one is what I'm one of, if not my best -- and it's my most popular, right? And it's ages old now. Like I said, pre the last season of Rebels.

And I still get comments all the time, because, again, it's the one that shows up in the algorithm or whatever. And today I got this amazing comment that was just one question. Four words. "What about man person?"

Liz: Man person!

Anika: Man person! And I just started laughing and laughing. I was like, Okay, I'm designing a T-shirt that just says, "What about man person?" and I'm buying one for all of my friends, because that is an amazing comment.

Liz: I think that we need to release stickers on RedBubble that say, "What about man person?"

Anika: "What about man person?" Like, that -- it was just so good. That's how I ended up with "social justice Klingon warrior" in my Twitter bio, because somebody accused me of being a social justice warrior for Klingons, and I was like, yup, yes I am.

Liz: Well, we've found this episode's title.

[I realise that Anika specifies that it's four words, and then I used three in the title, but, ummmmm, anyway, changing these things post-release is a pain.]

Anika: What about man person?

Liz: What about man person?

Anika: Like, okay, dude, this video is literally a celebration of women. That's, that's the title. That's what it says, Star Wars: Women. I made one for Star Trek, too: Star Trek: Women.

Liz: But, Anika, what about man person?

Anika: Go watch Star Trek! Go watch, literally the entire original trilogy and most of the rest. And you can find all the man person you want.

Liz: So the discussion here, what about man person? Why aren't men writing Trek fic? "There are many males in Trek, why aren't they writing? One suggestion was that men can't take criticism very well. And women are used to it."

Anika: I mean, every answer that they come up with is actually kind of great.

Liz: It is! But I'm like, people call us misandrists, and look at this!

"Criticism is a good tool. The Star Trek world would seem to appeal to males. One expects Marty Sues but gets Mary Sues. But many male Trekfen don't want to write about it, instead want to be in it."

And I think this is really interesting, because if you look at the fanworks which are dominated by men at the writing and production level, it's fan films. And there's the perennial post on the Star Trek subreddit, "Hey, I just wrote a Star Trek novel, how do I get it published?" And they never want my AO3 invite.

Anika: Yeah! I mean, I think that this is actually a really amazing insight that is absolutely true. Like, in, in all fandom--

Liz: Yeah. And I think--

Anika: --men--

Liz: Go on.

Anika: Do that. Like women -- I think we've discussed before how there's the transformative versus, like, critical or or--

Liz: Collecting?

Anika: Collector, yeah. Yeah. And, again, we just said there aren't enough women doing stuff in Star Trek in 1977. And so they were, they were saying, "Hey, I'm going to create a woman character who does something." And whereas the men are like, "I'm going to, you know, make a movie where I play Captain Kirk."

Liz: Yeah.

Anika: And somehow, they don't see that as fanfic?

[Note from Liz: it's not that there's anything wrong with that approach! I just find it weird how things like Star Trek Continues are treated as semi-canonical, whereas fic mostly … is not.]

[Oh no, do we need to start doing eps on fic the way other podcasts do eps on fan films?]

Liz: No, no. A few years ago, pre pandemic, I saw the play Puffs, which is essentially a Gary Stu fic in the form of a play. And it's a professional piece of theatre! You can see it on Broadway Online or something, and I highly recommend it. It was a good evening. I have very mixed feelings about Harry Potter these days, but it was a lot of fun.

But it struck me that "the ordinary kid gets his Hogwarts letter and goes to Hogwarts and is on the periphery of the events of Harry's school years" is a fic that I have seen many, many times. And the difference is--

Anika: So many times.

Liz: The difference is like those fics were mostly written by women. And this guy was like, "Oh, yeah, that's a valid idea. I'm going to write a play, and I am going to make it enough of a parody that it is a professional endeavor." And it's just interesting that men are more--

Anika: Willing to do that.

Liz: Yeah! And I think it's -- I love fan fiction, and I love that we have this community of amateur writers who love something, but do we, as the women and marginalized people of fandom, need to be more open to also being professionals? Or does something get lost in that?

Anika: Yeah. It's a really good question because I am very much of the opinion that if all you want to do is write fan fiction, more power to you.

Liz: Absolutely.

Anika: That is absolutely valid. That is you're still a writer. You can call yourself a writer. You are a creative. You are coming up with something that someone else didn't do. Your fic is original, even if it's fanfic.

Liz: Right, and even if it's using tropes and ideas that have been used before, unless you are literally copying and pasting from someone else's story, it is still unique.

Anika: Right.

Liz: They speculate that boys aren't interested in writing. "It's cute in girls and effeminate in boys in the high school years, and boys should go out and do it, not daydream." And I think there might be some level of truth in that. Or certainly, there may have been then. And, you know, toxic masculinity and all of that.

Anika: So here's what I wrote after I copied that over into my notes, that sentence, "writing is looked upon as cute in girls, effeminate in boys". And the sentence that I wrote is, "Hey, is it possible that this nonsense is why we have so few women writing trek novels right now?"

Liz: Ohhhhhhhhhhhh.

Anika: Just an idea. Just a thought.

Liz: They do go on to note, "most SF writers and men, but that that isn't Trek."

Anika: And also, that's not true.

Liz: Yeah. Even back then that was not true.

Anika: Sorry. That definitely wasn't true in the '70s. There were many women writing science fiction in the '70s.

Liz: This was the age of McCaffrey and Butler and Le Guin. And more. Those are just the ones we remember!

Anika: Literally everything I read in the '80s was written in the '70s. So that's just wrong.

Liz: Joanna Russ was writing Kirk/Spock fic and also science fiction novels.

Anika: Exactly. It's society. It's not us. It's not me and you who's keeping Una McCormack as the only woman allowed to write Star Trek right now.

Liz: Right, right.

Anika: Like, it's the people in charge. And the people in charge have decided that science fiction should only be written by men, and they are going to like, make that happen.

Liz: Right? And so it's interesting that men seem to self exclude from fan fiction. I think that's less true now than it was then. But it's certainly interesting because they go on, there's a bit down here, "at least a third of Trekfen are male." [laughs] I died!

But they speculate that "perhaps the dearth of men in zines is self perpetuating, since male writers are reluctant to submit their precious manuscripts to female criticism."

Anika: That is true. Like, I will say, I know some male writers who have not submitted their manuscripts because they don't want to hear it. And I said a while ago that I don't have a beta reader for the same reason, so I'm not saying that they shouldn't be like that. But it is a thing.

Liz: No, no. What struck me was that with the internet, like the gatekeepers in the editorial process disappeared for fan fiction and we see some more men now than we had then. But still not that many. And it's like it's a mystery to me.

Anika: I don't know any.

Liz: Writing fan fiction is great. Why would you not?

Anika: There aren't any men in our Kat Cornwell discord. There are a couple of non binary people, but no men?

Liz: Certainly no cis men. Is it just not a community that's appealing to cis men?

Anika: And why? Is it because they're not paid for it and you have to like, you know, "I hunt and gather and bring everything in"? Again the patriarchy is bad for everybody. Capitalism is bad for everybody.

Liz: There's a very strange and amusing digression here: "Cogswell and Spano ((MAY SLIME DEVILS INFEST THEIR TYPEWRITER)) were mentioned as trotting around at cons, getting opinions for Spock Mess--but again, those are pros ((SUCH AS THEY ARE))."

And I assume that Cogswell and Spano are nicknames. I don't know what Spock Mess is. I didn't really get any useful Google results. It might be a zine.

I was wondering if maybe they were nicknames for Harlan Ellison or Isaac Asimov or David Gerrold, who were all part of the fan community and were certainly known as people who trotted around at cons. Gerrold was deeply hated by a lot of women in fandom because he's a complete donkey, and was not able to say "I don't care for slash" without also saying, "slash is written by fat ugly housewives who need to get laid."

Anika: Ugh. Yeah, so--

Liz: Thanks for the tribbles, mate, you can just move along.

Anika: Again, fine, you don't have to read the slash. But that's just "I don't like this thing...."

Liz: If anyone out there knows who this aside refers to please, tell us because I require much gossip.

Anika: Also, I kind of want to have an opinion on Spock Mess.

Liz: Yeah, I would very much like to know what it is so that I can have an opinion on it.

Anika: I'd really like to have an opinion about it. So let me know what that means.

Liz: "It's a waste if we can get mediocre rotten and fairly good ideas from female authors, why not from male?"

Anika: Okay, look, I don't actually need men to have a bigger footprint in fandom, because they have reality.

Liz: It's true. It's true. But fandom was so female dominated back then, "at least a third of Trekren are male," that I understand why, in these formative years, it would have been nicer to have 50/50.

And then it goes, "Masculine domination of straight SF was brought up again, with the observation that SF is written by and large for adolescent males."

No, that is not true! That was not true in the 70s!

"And that the field has been changing to human relationship or alien relationship stories, largely on account of the female writers." Who did exist!

And I love that they discuss original SF alongside fic. "Treklit."

Anika: Yeah, that they're basically talking about them the same way. Like, these are both forms of science fiction writing.

Liz: Right. And like I said, Joanna Russ was writing Kirk/Spock fic. And these days, Naomi Novik is the founder of AO3, and also writing acclaimed novels, which I personally do not care for, but I don't read them and don't complain that they exist.

Anika: Because there's a lot of stuff that I don't read and don't complain that it exists. I'll just put that out there.

Liz: Because I'm sort of in the con organizing scene, I pay a lot of attention to like Hugos, and I nominate and I try to read as many of the nominated works as I can. And sometimes I'm like, No, no, this is a bad year for works specifically designed to appeal to me.

Anika: I probably read more fan fiction than published science fiction. I'll be honest.

Liz: A lot of people do.

Anika: Partly because it's free. Partly because it's about characters I already love.

Liz: Yeah. And it is so hard to care -- like it takes real skill to create original characters that other people care about. It's hard!

Anika: That is true.

Liz: It's a real skill!

Anika: That is very true. And even when you do -- like, let's take Daenerys Targaryen--

Liz: Alas.

Anika: George R R Martin created her, right? Whatever. Him

Liz: Yes. He made you care about her.

Anika: I guarantee that I care more about Daenerys Targaryen than he does. And I also guarantee I care more about Daenerys Targaryen than DB or the other D.

Liz: I don't know about GRRM, but I absolutely agree with you on that. You win that easily.

Anika: So that's why I'm gonna go read fan fiction about Daenerys Targaryen instead of caring about when Winds of Winter ever comes out.

Liz: But also, you know, you're entering into a contract with a fic writer where they're saying, "Look, I love this character, and I care about them too." And you're like, "Cool, I'm gonna sit with you and we're going to care together."

Anika: Right, we're gonna care together, I'm -- we're going to fix -- like, you know, fix it fic is like a really popular tag for every fandom because every fandom needs to be fixed for someone.

Liz: I was very against the idea of fix it fic as a concept because I'm like, Sure you can change and you can alter what the show does, but ultimately, you know, what I love is canon. And then they blew someone up and I am very pro fix it fic. I am a Cornwell denialist.

Anika: It's interesting. This is where my love of alternate universes comes in, where I can -- like a fix it fic is just an alternate universe, it doesn't mean that the canon didn't happen. It's like, here's a different way it could have gone.

And I love that, because characters who are thrown into many different plots and many different situations and circumstances and the way things went, seeing the similarities, the throughlines, and their strengths and their skills and their innermost being, like, how it comes out? That's what's interesting to me, that's the identity stuff that I'm always talking about. That's like, this is what matters to this character.

Liz: And there's a really interesting writing trick where, if you're not sure you understand your original character, you should go and write an AU of them. So if you're trying to write a fantasy, go scribble out a coffee shop AU and see, see what is actually essential to that character.

Anika: Exactly, yes.

Liz: And now I'm wondering, is the reason for the whole Mary Sue discourse, and this whole discussion about original characters in fan fiction, because a lot of these writers were novices and didn't have the skills to make people care about their original characters?

Anika: Absolutely! I still have some of my fanfic that I wrote when I was 13. And it is bad. Even -- there are two Voyager fics that I wrote way back when that I put on my AO3, because they're the two that I think are acceptable, and they are still bad.

Liz: Oh, yeah.

Anika: They are … like, I put them up because I'm proud of them. But I'm proud of them twenty years ago. You know, it's like, thank God, I have improved since this time.

Liz: The first fic I actually finished was a Savage Garden songfic where Q watches Janeway and Chakotay dance. It is not good at all. But in my defense, I was 14 years old.

Anika: Exactly. And I think that that's, that matters. One thing that I really love about fanfic, and that I love about having a profile on Archive of Our Own, is that I can go back to this stuff that is fifteen years old, and I can say like, Oh, this is like, I'm telling this, this story again, in this new fic. But look at how much I've improved, look at how I've been able to, like, tease those ideas into something so much like -- into so much more of a blossom.

Liz: And with these women who are writing fic in the '70s -- you know, the general profile of a Trekkie back then was a middle-aged, college educated woman who had married straight after college, had children. Maybe she had a part-time job as a receptionist, or a secretary or something like that. But this was her first creative outlet in decades. And her first writing work in decades. And it is the work of intelligent, educated but untrained writers who are practicing. And - - -

Anika: Exactly, practicing.

I love that fanfic doesn't have to have a beginning, a middle and an end. You don't have to waste time on telling them about the character, you can just tell them about what the character is feeling right now, because I already know who Spock is.

So you don't have to tell me who Spock is. You just have to tell me what Spock is doing right now, and how it makes him feel, and how it's different from what he feels in the episode I just watched.

It allows you to hone your skills with a very low like bar. You don't have to prove anything. The worst thing that happens is someone doesn't like your fic.

Liz: And we talked at the beginning, and I guess this brings us full circle, but we talked at the beginning about how the criticisms in this panel were not the sorts of things that would fly today, and people could be really upfront about not liking stuff.

But I read some of the letters of comment for big fics around this time, and there was one, and it's a very well known writer, and I cannot remember who she was - possibly even Paula -- no, not Paula Smith.

Anyway, the letter of comment was basically, "You need to slow down," or, no, "she needs to slow down," it was a letter to the zine, not to the writer.

"She needs to slow down and consider her pacing and really take time to settle into a scene and let things unfold. Because she is not a bad writer now, but she is going to be really, really good when she's comfortable enough to take her time."

And that's really, really fantastic feedback. And put really kindly And so yeah, fandom hasn't changed that much.

Anika: You know, you can go to college for literature, or whatever, and mostly you get beaten down. And you get told, you know, this is what you're doing wrong, and this is the way you need to do better.

And fanfic is the opposite, where it's like, they're not going to tell you how to fix things necessarily. They're gonna encourage you, and even when they say something negative, it's in an encouraging way. And I think that the balance of both is the perfect, you know, that the best way to make a writer is to have both.

Liz: Absolutely.

Are we done? Should I outro?

Anika: I think so.

Liz: Okay. It's really hot here. I need another shower.

Anika: I'm sorry.

Liz: I'm sorry for Texas!

Anika: It is. Yeah, it is cold and snowing here.

Liz: If I could send you my excess heat...

Anika: And I'm not Texas. Thank God.

Liz: Thank you for listening to Antimatter Pod. You can find our show notes at antimatterpod.tumblr.com, including links to our social media and credits for our theme music.

You can follow us on Twitter at @Antimatter Pod, and on Facebook, because as far as Facebook is concerned, we are not a news source. That's a bit of Australian humour for you.

If you like us, leave a review on Apple Podcasts or wherever you consume your podcasts.

The more reviews the easier it is for new listeners to find us and join us in two weeks, when we'll be discussing bisexuality and Star Trek.

Anika: It will be great!

#antimatter pod #podcast transcripts

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rena-rain · 5 years

Text

The Shortcut Home ch. 1

I totally forgot to post this on tumblr! It’s also posted on my AO3 under rainforestgeek.

“Marinette!” Alya wrapped her roommate in her arms as soon as she came through the door. “Are you okay? Are you still feeling sick?”

Marinette nodded. She’d been having dinner at her parents’ house, but was hardly there for fifteen minutes before she vomited in the kitchen sink. The smells emanating from the dining table had sent her stomach into a mutinous upheaval even though she normally loved her parents’ cooking. They’d wanted her to stay to take care of her, but settled for escorting her back to her and Alya’s apartment. “Just a little nauseous. Did you get my text?”

Alya pulled away and handed her a paper bag. “I got you three just in case. You know I have to grill you about this, right?”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Marinette sighed. “Just please get me something to drink first.”

Ten minutes later, Marinette poured herself her second glass of orange juice while Alya sat frozen on the couch.

“You’ve been sleeping. With Adrien.”

“Yes.”

“Adrien Agreste has been having sex with you. And you didn’t tell me?”

“We’re not together, Alya.”

“That’s what I don’t get. I never took that boy to be a fuck buddies type.”

Marinette cringed at the term. Yes, she and Adrien were having sex alongside their platonic relationship. But it sounded too crass. Too casual for their close relationship, lack of romance aside.

She got up. “I need to pee.”

“Don’t forget the tests!”

“Okay, but this one says it’s negative?”

Alya rubbed her back. “False negatives happen, Mari. False positives don’t. These two are positive you’ve got a mini-Agreste in your belly.”

Marinette groaned and left the bathroom. She flopped face-down onto the couch. “How – ”

“If you say ‘how did this happen’ I’ll smack you with this pillow.”

“Alya, how am I going to tell Adrien?”

Alya sat down, Marinette flipping over to rest her head on her best friend’s lap. Alya stroked her silky black hair contemplatively. “Let’s take this one thing at a time. When was the first day of your last period.”

Marinette counted in her head. “Nine weeks and five days ago.”

“Okay. Do you want to have a baby? Because you have two weeks to decide.”

Marinette’s immediate thought was yes. She’d always wanted children and now she had the chance to have Adrien’s child. Her infatuation may have died down over the years, but no matter what, she did love him.

But was she prepared to be a single mother? She and Alya had to share an apartment just to avoid living paycheck to paycheck. Marinette’s savings weren’t impressive, and that’s money she’d been saving to open her own boutique someday. Yes, she wanted kids, but this was risking her dream career. She still had plenty of time to have children.

She peered up at Alya. “I don’t know if I’m ready. Do you think I would make a good mom?”

Alya grinned at her. “Girl, you’d be an amazing mom. Nobody’s ever ready for a baby, that doesn’t mean you’d be a bad parent. But it is your decision and you have no obligation to tell Adrien before you make it.”

“I think I need a few days to think about it. God, I wish I could have some wine.”

“I could drink two glasses tonight if it makes you feel better.”

Marinette laughed. “That actually makes it worse.”

Nino met his girlfriend at their favorite café. The weather was nice, the sun out and only slightly chilly. He greeted her with a kiss and sat down across from her.

“Babe, I just wanna start out with saying I wasn’t doing anything weird. I accidentally kicked the trash can over.”

“Why would I think that’s weird? It was an accident right?”

“Yes, totally, 100%! So I did not mean to look at anything private, I was just cleaning it up, and…”

Alya touched her boyfriend’s cheek. “Nino, what’s going on?”

“Are you pregnant?” he blurted. Both of their eyes went wide. Nino rushed, “I swear I’m not trying to corner you or anything! I saw a couple positive tests when I was cleaning up the trash in your bathroom, and I couldn’t not tell you that I saw them, so…are you pregnant?”

Alya sighed and looked around the café. She leaned close and lowered her voice. “I’m not pregnant. Now I need you to promise me you’ll keep this under your hat. The tests weren’t mine.”

Nino gasped. Alya dove to put both hands over his mouth, accidentally knocking over a glass of water. “Ugh! Dang it. You don’t say a word or make a sound, okay? Marinette’s not ready to tell anybody yet and I don’t even know if she’s keeping it so you’re sworn to silence.”

Nino helped Alya mop up the water with a pile of napkins. “Of course, I’d never betray her like that. Just gotta, like, process for a minute.”

The waiter came out to take their order, effectively ending the conversation.

A knock came from the front door. Adrien told Plagg to hide before opening it to reveal a very anxious-looking Marinette. Her eyes darted to and away from his face rapid-fire, and she fiddled with her purse’s shoulder strap. “Marinette? Are you all right?”

“I – ” Her voice broke. She took a shuddering breath. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you or if I wanted to tell you but I haven’t decided anything yet, I really need to talk to somebody and I want to talk to you – this is big, but I need to talk to you as my friend right now.”

Adrien took her hand and coaxed her inside, closing the door behind her. He pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in his neck, clinging to him tight, so he hitched both arms around her back to bring her as close as possible. He felt like he was absorbing her anxiety like a sponge, making his own blood jitter along with her. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

Marinette lifted her lips to his ear. She murmured two soft words to him.

He froze for a moment. They were still hugging, so hopefully she didn’t notice his shock. Adrien gathered himself, gently untangled their limbs, and held her face to look in her eyes. “Why don’t you go sit down, okay? I’ll make us some tea.”

She nodded. He went to the kitchen and filled up the water heater. While he waited for it to boil, he leaned against the fridge, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do.

Marinette was pregnant. He’d gotten her pregnant. She was probably here to talk about whether or not to stay pregnant. Oh god, his father was going to kill him.

Hold your horses there, kid, he told himself in a mental voice that sounded alarmingly like Plagg. Gabriel doesn’t have to know if she decides not to keep it.

Adrien pushed the thought aside. His father didn’t matter right now; he’d burn that bridge when he got to it. Right now, his pregnant friend needed his support.

And her tea, he realized when he heard the water heater beeping. Adrien prepared and poured two steaming mugs and reminded himself that while he was culpable in creating this situation, Marinette had a lot more at stake here.

When he came back to the living room, Marinette had a ball of yarn out and was crocheting in the round. He was glad she’d brought something to do with her hands. It seemed to help keep her nerves in check. She set the project aside when he handed her the cup and took a sip. Adrien sat down on the couch next to her.

They drank in silence for a minute, neither sure how to broach the subject.

Finally, Adrien gathered his nerve. “So, how long have you known?”

“Four days. I’m about ten weeks along.”

“Okay. You…you said you wanted to talk about it?”

She puffed out a sigh through her teeth. “I’ve been trying to decide if I should keep it or abort it. I tried talking to Alya about it, but she’s so stuck on not influencing my choice that she just refuses to give any advice. But I need to talk through it.”

Adrien drank a hot sip of tea, letting himself think. “Thank you for trusting me. Let’s start with what you’ve been thinking. Feel free to word vomit.”

And word vomit she did. Marinette babbled about her career, her body changing, not being ready to take care of a kid, the money she didn’t have, the fact she wasn’t married – all in no particular order. Her stream of consciousness sentences ran together, making Adrien focus hard on keeping track of what she said.

Once she’d run out of breath, he asked the question she hadn’t addressed at all.

“Do you have any ethical issues with terminating the pregnancy?”

Marinette furrowed her brows. “Do you?”

“That’s not what I asked.” Adrien didn’t love the idea, but he’d thought a lot about what it’d be like to grow a human inside him and then push it out of his ass, so yeah, he figured it was okay to say no to anything or anyone using your body as a house-slash-IV bag.

(Plagg says he’s too morbidly curious for his own good. Plagg doesn’t get to judge, he’s a cat and once caused a mass extinction.)

Marinette looked him straight in the eye. “No, I don’t.”

Adrien chose his next words carefully. “If money and single parenthood are your main concerns, you’re not alone. I’m here, I have a good job, and a trust fund that’s just gathering dust. Only if you want to. Whichever you decide, I’m all in.”

He took her free hand. “We’re a team. I promise.”

The words rang jarringly in both of their ears with a familiarity that didn’t belong in this context.

She smiled at him. “That was quite a speech.”

“Yeah, that came out cornier than I intended. I meant it, though.”

“What are you trying to say, Adrien?”

“I’m saying it’s not a matter of what we can do. It’s about what you want to do. You don’t have to give up your dreams for this.” He gazed at Marinette’s face, wished he could read her better. “Do you feel ready for a kid?”

“I feel scared,” she said quietly.

“Me, too.”

“But I…I think I want to. But only if you commit to being a dad.”

Adrien’s heart pounded. “Like I said, Marinette, I’m all in.”

She nodded and stood, wrapping up her yarn and putting it in her bag. “I don’t think I should decide tonight. I’ll tell you by the end of the day tomorrow.”

He stood as well to see her out. “Good idea. Sleep on it, take your time. I’ll just be here freaking out where you can’t see me.”

Marinette let out a little laugh. Her eyes crinkled adorably. “Thank you, for talking with me. And for the tea.”

“Do you want to stay over?” Adrien wasn’t sure what possessed him to ask that without thinking. Was that inappropriate? Did their relationship change after she got pregnant? Did she think he meant he wanted to have sex? Was it okay to ask your pregnant friend with benefits to sleep over after an emotionally draining conversation? Okay, come to think of it, that does sound kind of suspect.

“I’m too nauseated to fool around tonight.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you can’t stay over.”

Marinette gave him a long, searching look. He wondered what she was looking for. He wondered if it was there. “I should go back to my apartment. Where my pajamas and toothbrush are. Goodnight, Adrien.”

They both ignored the fact that he kept a toothbrush for her here anyway, and she’d slept in his clothes more than once.

Plagg was being insufferable. “Baker girl’s got a bun in the oven!”

“You’re not funny, Plagg.”

“Screw you, I’m hilarious. It’s not my fault you decided to mix your milk with her eggs.”

Adrien groaned. “You’re really not funny, Plagg.”

Marinette fiddled with a lock of hair while the dial tone sounded in her ear.

“Mari?”

“I’m going to have the baby.” All at once. Ripped off the bandage. Besides, Adrien had to know why she was calling him, and he was surprisingly okay with when she cut past the pleasantries.

There was a pause. “Okay. I should tell my father soon.”

“My parents, too. Maybe we should have those conversations alone, so my mom and dad don’t grill you about not being in a relationship.

“Am I a dead man?”

“I’ll throw my body in front of yours. It’ll be better than a bullet-proof vest.”

“Is it too much to ask you to tell my father with me? I know he’ll stay calm, just…”

“Cold,” Marinette finished. She should’ve known Adrien would want emotional support when he told his dad he was about to become a young, unmarried parent. “Of course I can. Just tell me when.”

“Thanks. Have you gotten a doctor’s appointment yet?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. She was looking at six to seven more months of this fretting.

Chapter 2

Ko-fi

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years

Text

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 27 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 27

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings: Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

December, 1987

“Damn it!” (Y/n) called out from the bedroom. Her and Bret weren’t officially living together, but he was over there more than at his own place. He had a drawer and his toothbrush there. (Y/n) wasn’t honestly sure if that meant he was living there, or if she was just his place to get away from the rest of his band.

“What happened babe?” he came in and noticed her holding the broken piece of jewelry.

“My necklace snapped. I don’t have anymore chains that will go with it. And I’m running late.” She sighed. Bret took it from her gently.

“I’ll take it to the store and have it fixed, you go ahead to work,” he whispered as he kissed her taking the necklace from her. “Where did you get this? It’s really beautiful.”

“Uh...Tommy for my birthday a few years ago.” She lied. It had been from Nikki for their first Christmas together. He had showered her in gifts, and she had gotten him his favorite bass that he used all the time. And no one was allowed to touch it. “It’s my favorite, so it just broke from wear and tear.”

“I’ll get it fixed for you,” he smiled as he placed it in an envelope carefully.

“Thanks honey.” She smiled at him, kissing him. “I’ll thank you properly when I get home.”

“I can’t wait for that,” he whispered as he kissed her deeply.

She headed off to work while Bret went to the store for her, unaware of the people snapping pictures of him standing over the ring case.

*****

“Good afternoon! I’m Martha Quinn and we’re taking a break to go over some celebrity news! This week, Bret Michaels, singer of the up and coming glam metal band Poison was spotted a jewelry store just off the strip. Pawning for money? We don’t think so. Eyewitnesses are telling us that Mr. Michaels was looking at rings. As we reported months ago, he was seen out and about with producer (Y/n) Bass, who you guys might know had previously been dating Motley Crue bassist Nikki Sixx. So, is this music maker about to become the next Queen of Glam Metal? Stick with us as we try to find out more!”

****

Tommy, Mick, and Vince all glanced at Nikki. He just sat there letting the information he just heard sink in. He felt it again, the walls closing in, the tightness in his chest. He knew it was only a matter of time, but this was the breaking point. Pushing his feelings down he put on a smile and looked at the guys.

“We have an album to record,” he muttered as he got up and walked out of the sound board room.

“I’ll talk to him,” Mick muttered as he followed Nikki. He rushed towards him as he headed down the hallway. “Nik!”

“Leave me alone.” Nikki grumbled. “Just leave me alone please.”

“Nik, you know how these vultures are, it could be bullshit,” Mick tried to reason with him. “You know you can talk to me, I’ve been there done that.” Mick held on to the song that Nikki had written but found it at Tommy’s wedding on the ground.

“It’s probably true. They’ve been together for awhile now. She moved on from me. So I just need to let her go!” He wanted to punch that blond haired asshole in his face and tell (Y/n) he needed her, but he knew it would make things worse. If she wanted to get married, then he had to let her go.

“Nik,” Mick grabbed his hand and placed the song in his palm. “Don't do anything stupid.” Mick said as they were all ready to go home for the day.

“I already did something stupid.” He muttered. “I just don’t want to feel anymore.”

****

“Vanessa…” (Y/n) answered the phone, knowing who it was on the other end. She would play MTV in her office so she could keep tabs on what was going on around music industry. And what she had just seen…

“Are you? Is it true? I mean…” Vanessa was at a loss for words. “I mean… (Y/n) what are you going to do?”

"We haven't talked about it. But he was there taking my necklace. It broke this morning and he was going to get it fixed…"

“You don't think he was going there anyways do you?” Vanessa poured herself a cup of coffee and she looked out her office window. “I mean…. I’m not sure what to tell you girl.”

“I don’t know what to do Nessa.” (Y/n) sighed. “I like him, but I don’t love him like I loved…” She trailed off.

“That’s a tough situation, I mean… if it’s on MTV that means….” Vanessa trailed off.

“He probably saw it.” (Y/n) sighed. “I’m waiting for a phone call from my brother any minute now. Thank god Athena’s in Greece right now. She’d probably be breaking down my...oh shit Tommy’s here.”

“Call me back to make sure you’re still alive!” Vanessa told her as they hung up.

“(Y/n)!” Tommy made a small beat and laughed. He had to be on something. Much of what was going on was taking a toll on him. Nikki’s mood wasn't any better but the only way they could be together was when they were both high and on drugs. Terrorizing the hotel rooms and causing chaos. (Y/n) smiled at her brother, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hi Tommy.” She said. “What brings you here?” She knew exactly what he was too here, but if she could play dumb just for a little bit, maybe he wouldn’t be so upset. Not that she cared if he was upset. She wasn’t getting married.

“Um…. something you want to tell me?” he gave her a devilish smile. “I mean MTV told me first but…”

“I know nothing about that,” (Y/n) said. “He and I haven’t talked about getting married. His band just released their first album and I don’t think he wants to pile marriage on top of that. Plus, my necklace was broke. The one I wear all the time.” She was used to fidgeting with it, but it wasn’t there.

“Oh,” Tommy was secretly relieved, it was something he could tell Nikki. He just hoped that it helped the drummer. “So… does he make you happy?” Tommy walked inside and grabbed a beer from her fridge that she had in her office. She kept it stocked with drinks for her bands and for when her brother showed up unannounced. He knew part of her break up with Nikki was his fault, but he also didn’t want his baby sister dragged into the already downward spiral Nikki was on when they met.

“I…” She couldn’t answer it truthfully. Yeah, Bret was sweet and took care of her, always asked her if she was doing okay and took her out on the town instead of leaving her at home while he went off to do god knows what, but there was something missing. “I guess.” She shrugged.

“Ok,” Tommy wasn’t registering the pain in her voice or the sad look in her face. He didn’t see how her smile never reached her eyes. Honestly, the only one of that whole band that was even remotely good at reading emotions was Mick. “So Heather and I want to have you over for dinner sometime.” he smiled. “Maybe tonight?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” (Y/n) sighed. She knew that was the best way to get him to leave her alone was to agree. Tommy and Heather had taken it upon themselves to make sure she was eating. Tommy had told Heather about the incident in the past, and Heather now saw her like a little sister. And (Y/n) appreciated it, but sometimes, she just wanted to be left alone.

“Good, so everything good at MCA?” he grabbed a cigarette from his pocket. “Want one?”

“I should pass.” She sighed. “Trying clean living. It sucks.” She laughed a little. “And MCA sucks. I miss my boys. But it looks like the two bands I cared about at Elektra are doing just fine without me.”

“They fight like cats and dogs,” Tommy muttered. “We miss you too.” (Y/n) smiled a little. She would love to go back to Elektra, but she needed the space from Nikki. Especially if they were both supposed to move on and be happy and healthy.

“Tom Petty��s cool and all. And the bands I got here are pretty nice. I just miss everyone.” She told him.

“You guys… at the wedding… seemed cool.” Tommy sighed. “Hey, the song he wrote he was in a bad place after… I… I should go… I’ll see you this evening.” Tommy rushed out of her office, leaving her sitting there alone.

*********

NIkki sat alone looking out at the city by the Hollywood sign. He closed his eyes and could just imagine her there with him, just like their first date on the hood of his old car. The simpler times, the times when she was bright and happy, the times she made him forget his pain. Now he had lost that and had to resort to different means to kill the pain.

“It’s so beautiful up here.” He could hear her say, clear as day. He closed his eyes and screamed. What had he done to her? How could he cause her so much pain and in the process destroy her light. He rushed back to his house and just like the night she left he found himself smashing everything in sight. He grabbed his bass, the one she gave him but he couldn’t. He saw the words etched on the back.

‘To my silly boy, so that you can always play with me by your side. Love your sweet girl.’

Letting out a strangled cry he sobbed. Kneeling on the floor he hugged the bass, hugged it as if he was holding her in his arms again. After a few minutes of that, he got up. Not even bothering to lock his front door or anything, he made his way to the place Slash had told him about. The guitarist was on the couch, relaxing with his girlfriend and the smell of drugs filled the air.

“I need something strong.” Nikki told the dealer. There was already stuff in his system from the car ride, booze and blow. But he needed something more. “Please man.”

“You look like you could use some white persian my man,” the dealer said as he got everything ready. “This will definitely make sure you are in for a ride.” Nikki just nodded, watching as he injected him with the drug.

The last thing he knew before his world went black was he could’ve sworn she was sitting there in front of him.

He collapsed to the ground, his lips turning blue after a little while.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @livingdeadharley @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva

Nikki Sixx Tags: @daisystuffsstuff @unknownoblivion

Too Young to Fall in Love Tags: @kingbouji3 @leximus98 @thekidbakerinthetardis @crystalbaby12 @shawnsstxtches @knockemdeadgirl

#too young to fall in love #Motley Crue #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #nikki x reader #the dirt #dirt!nikki sixx #dirt!nikki sixx x reader #dirt!nikki x reader #dirt!nikki #fanfiction

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writersrealmbts · 5 years

Text

Con Amore: Part 3

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 07/24/2019

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 1,833 words

A/N: Hope you’re excited! Any theories yet? It’s posted early because I have plans for tomorrow and intended to post it then. Probably wait five days before posting the next part, if not a week.

Jimin stroked your hair, watching your every movement as you sipped some ginger ale. “Better, chubs?” You nodded. “It was probably the artifact Tae and I recovered combined with my worry. Nothing to worry about.” “Of course we worr—” Jimin broke off, dropping his gaze, “Worry. I’m sorry, y/n. You were already worried about me, and Joon-hyung, and…and you—” You put a finger to his lips. “You should try to sleep.” He looked a little like a kicked puppy. “But—” “Jimin-ah, I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Please. I get that you don’t like conflict to remain, but there’s going to be even more if you push me right now.” He slowly nodded. “Okay, chubs. Cuddle with me?” You nodded, laying back and lightly holding onto Jimin. It was a good way of knowing that he was just worried about you instead of being upset with you. He craned his neck to get his kisses, then lay back with a slight smile when he received it. You matched his breathing, waiting until he had fallen deeply asleep, then glancing back. Yoongi nodded, climbing over and carefully taking your place. You slid off the bed, checking on Namjoon, who was half-asleep on the other bed. He caught your hand, squeezing it and pulling it so he could get a kiss. “Feel better?” “Yeah, you?” He nodded. “Hoseok gave me some herbs and painkillers.” “Good. Rest up,” You whispered, giving him a second kiss. Taehyung and Jungkook were eating in the next room, the one you sent Taehyung to get. Whatever they were eating smelled…absolutely terrible. You gagged a bit and closed the door, plugging your nose. “You okay?” You wrinkled your nose. “What the heck are they eating?” “Grilled chicken alfredo,” Hoseok answered, still looking concerned. “Your favorite. You must be really sick. You don’t like ginger outside of ginger-ale, so maybe catmint or peppermint…” He started muttering, feeling your forehead. “I really don’t want to consume anything right now, Hobi.” You tucked into his chest grateful he had come from taking a shower. He didn’t smell like anything but Hobi, and his chest had a comforting warmth to it. “I was planning on sleeping in there.” He hummed softly. “What smells are okay?” You shrugged, then sniffed your hand. “Citrus. I think peppermint.” He nodded. “Let me and the other two try and clean out the smell. If we can’t, are you okay sharing with Joon?” You nodded. You had told Jungkook that you wanted to have your own bed. You just needed space. Space to calm down. Space to worry. Space that should be filled by Jin. Space to punish yourself for not protecting your loves better. You had put off finding more protections for them, thinking they might find it a little overbearing and worrying that your love for them might cause you to overstep the bounds of your duty as an archivist. What if you used an artifact to protect them, and ended up hurting others because of it? But now Jin was missing, and even if you didn’t think he was in danger…Namjoon said Jin had been hurt. And who knew who had taken him, and for what reason. For all you knew it could be like what happened with your father. Oh God. “Tinny? Is your stomach bothering you that badly?” Hobi slouched to meet your eye, gently wiping your cheeks. You wiped a tear from your own face, staring at it. “No. It isn’t. I’m just…” You shook your head. “I don’t even know. I mean, I’m crying. Again. I’m broken. Why am I broken?” “Your voice just squeaked and it was adorable—no wait, don’t cry more!” “It’s not cute, it’s annoying and wrong and ugh!” “Sshhh,” He hushed you gently. “Jimin and Namjoon are asleep. We don’t want to wake them.” You pressed your face into his shoulder. “What’s wrong with me?” You asked, unable to push back the tears. “You’re sick and stressed, and I’m sure you’re tired and worried. I think you should just try and sleep, Tinny. Okay? Yoongi and Namjoon can help you figure out the songs you need in the morning. Do you want pajamas or are you okay in Jungkook’s t-shirt?” “I’m okay.” He guided you to the other side of Namjoon’s bed, helping you lay down under the covers. “You want me to hold your hand until you fall asleep?” You nodded, feeling calmer. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why….” He kissed you gently when you didn’t continue. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay. Just try and sleep, baby. Cuddle Joon if you feel sad again.” You nodded, closing your eyes. You were tired, and crying always gave you a headache. Maybe sleep was a better choice. You wiggled over so that you were next to Namjoon, squeezing Hobi’s hand. You opened your eyes as light shone brightly through your eyelids. You were in some sort of stone room, cold air greeting you where you had been warm next to Joon just seconds earlier. It felt foreign and familiar at the same time. There were no lights or windows, but the room was mostly lit. You looked at each blank wall, but the only thing that you really noticed was that the walls were the light source, and some other part of your brain was saying that you already knew that. “Nightingale,” A voice called behind you. You froze. “Nurya Cohen.” “You may face me, Archivist.” You slowly turned to her. “Working with that artifact you swore would stay locked up?” She looked to the floor, the glow about her dying down slightly. “Slicha, ani lokeakh et mlo ha’achrayut.” “I still don’t speak Hebrew.” “Sorry, I take full responsibility,” She translated, dipping her head. “But I should hope you know I would not go back on my word unless circumstances called for it.” “As a light priestess, I would hope not.” She turned, gesturing for you to follow. You fell in step with her, out into her sanctuary. Last you had seen her was when her healer friend had, well, healed you after your crash from the top of the building three years ago. She had come to you, so the last time you had been to the sanctuary was when you had dropped the artifact with her. Too big for you to move around, but perfectly hidden in her sanctuary. Which was a temple of light and healing, a place where some astronomy students also conducted their studies. It had surprisingly strong security despite being a pacifist group. “We have a metupal in our infirmary. One of yours, I believe.” She folded her hands in front of her, similar to how an opera singer might. “Actually, we are mostly certain.” “Oh?” You frowned, trying not to get your hopes up that it was Jin. “He keeps rambling about dorchadas and something about an oasis. He also said that the kids were in danger and he had to tell you, Nightingale.” “Dorchadas? Are you certain?” You frowned. “You know what it is?” “It’s Irish. For darkness.” She looked more troubled. “And the oasis mentioned?” You shook your head. “Not sure. Not even sure what kids he could mean. I keep an eye on multiple children’s homes.” “Well, he wouldn’t lay still until I assured him I would pass the message to you. But I also contacted you because of the rumors that we heard just before his arrival. Rumors of a dark organization that works to remove the powers of supers, one that had been disbanded, but are now active again. And that they had found a former patient.” She paused, glancing at you as you froze. “Nightingale?” “The Oasis Initiative,” You breathed. Both of you were silent, but she looked at you as if waiting for further response. “Cursing is a little inappropriate here so you better continue.” “Quid pro quo.” You made a slashing gesture, making a face as you tried to think of how to explain it. “After you finish.” “Very well. One of our watchers got the pictures and information of the patient. It’s Siphon, or Laguz as you know him. However, another group also got the information—” “The Conservatory,” You guessed. Everything made sense now. They probably sent rookies because they thought it would be a basic abduction followed by an explanation that it was for his safety. They probably only heard whispers of a threat and given their penchant for watching out for their own (one of the few points you couldn’t find fault with) went to make sure that the whispers couldn’t be carried out. She nodded. “I know you dislike the place—I don’t blame you—but if this Oasis Initiative is functioning again….” “Then we all need to be ready for the worst. And we’ll need a strong base of operations, like the Conservatory. I trust you to send a representative as well?” She dipped her head. “Of course, Archivist. I will give you the head-start. Be advised, though, you should put distance between yourself and this fight.” Everything was getting blurry and the panic—that was a side effect of the artifact—started rising in your body. “Why? And who’s in the infirmary?” You managed to choke out. Her gaze flit to your midsection before the dream shattered like glass. Strong arms had you pinned down. “Y/n!” You finally opened your eyes, almost throwing up, but somehow managing to choke it down long enough to free yourself and run to the bathroom. Someone pulled your hair back. “Maybe she should see a doctor,” One of them said softly. You sat back, panting a little. “Tae, can you get me my makeup bag?” “Yeah.” “Makeup? Honey, I don’t think that’s—” “You’re right, you don’t think of me having anything else in my makeup bag, but I do. Now, Hoseok, I love you, but get out. Same goes to you, Kook, and you, Yoongi. Nothing to see here.” You got to your feet, reaching to flush the toilet before shakily stepping over to the sink to brush your teeth. You scrunched your nose, frustrated with yourself. “I’m sorry. I just…I need a minute.” “Okay,” Jungkook said. “We’ll keep the food in the other room. Do you want some toast?” You nodded. Tae handed you your bag. You closed the door behind him, taking a couple deep breaths to steady yourself before going to the bottom of your bag and pulling the pregnancy test out. “Please be wrong,” You muttered. You waited the appropriate amount of time, trying to count how long it had been since you had had your last visit from Aunt Flo. This would be the worst timing ever. You didn’t want to be sidelined. Not if the Oasis Initiative was active again. You glanced at the time on whoever’s watch you had found sitting on the counter, then looked at the test.

~~~~~

Part 2. Part 4.

Masterlist. ~ Series Masterpost.

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alyssaiswriting · 5 years

Text

Cien

Before you read: This is for @cieloxcnco‘s 1000 followers contest (congrats babe <3) with the prompt/song Cien - CNCO / y es que dudo que el en verdad te amo como yo, y es que no me creo que en orto lugar eres mas feliz de lo que fuiste aqui //

warning: none

word count: 2562

ALL WORDS IN ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS

You adjust the strap of your dress for the 100th time since arriving at your cousin's wedding and seeing Zabdiel seated only a few tables down. You can't help but look over at him every once in a while. His hair is dyed blonde again, his curls are growing out and you notice the tiny gold hoops he's wearing.

"Y/n" you don't know how long you're staring but you're snapped out of it by your boyfriend Jeremy. "You okay?" He asks before his eyes follow your gaze. Just then Zabdiel senses a stare. Turning his head his breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you, your hair is different, and that's the first thing he notices. He still stalks your Instagram so when his eyes land on the man beside you he immediately he recalls the post he saw last week of a photo your "boyfriend" took of in front of a window he knew so very well.

----------

It's golden hour, you insisted the window being open to enjoy the view of the sun setting, and with your exposed thighs being lit up by the golden sun Zabdiel can't help but run his fingers along them. Goosebumps raise under his touch making him chuckle.

It's been months since he's been home and though you both have spent the last 3 days in the house catching up, you're still not bored of each other.

Laying in silence on the queen sized bed in nothing but a tank top and underwear, and Zabdiel just in boxers. You're facing your boyfriend whilst he's facing you, your back to the window and the sun on his face.

You grab the hand that is skimming over your thigh, playing with his fingers as you say "your eyes look really pretty right now" you release his hand to lift your hand and cup his cheek running your thumb along his eye bags that have lightened since coming home from tour. His look like pools of honey.

Zabdiel watches you through his dark lashes as your eyes travel across his face, and in that moment he knows he doesn't ever wanna see anyone else laying across from him.

"I love you" the words slip past Zabdiel's lips before he can even think twice. well not exactly twice because he has been thinking about how much he loves you for weeks now.

"I-" you can't even piece together the words too shocked after hearing him say them for the first time.

His hand comes up to capture yours, he brings the palm of your hand to his lips placing a soft kiss there. Your anxiety is calmed by this, and you take in a broken breathe because you know that's exactly what you feel for him but your mouth has lost connection to your brain and the words can't seem to find their way out.

"It's okay if you don't feel-" he starts

"I love you too" you cut him off, his eyes meet yours and you smile softly "I love you so much"

A beautiful smile spreads across his face and you can't help but lean in to connect his lips with yours in a sweet passion filled kiss, Zabdiel doesn't want the moment to end, lifting your leg over his hip to caress your thigh.

----------------

"I'm going to the restroom," you say breaking your gaze away from Zabdiel.

"Okay" is all Jeremy says.

You pull up your dress so you won't trip on it as you walk to the back of the venue. When you enter the hallway that leads to the restroom you sigh in relief when you find it empty, leaning against the wall you take a deep breathe to contain the different amount of emotions you feel from seeing your ex.

Just then the women's bathroom door opens and your cousin, sister of the groom, walks out frowning when she sees you standing there staring at the floor.

"You good sis?" She questions making your head snap up in her direction, you step closer to her "why is Zabdiel here?" You ask Emilia's eyes widen "I told Kevin not to invite him," she says.

"Well obviously he didn't listen"

Emilia starts walking back to the venue when the door opens and Kevin steps out into the hall.

"What's going on Jeremy sent me to look for you" he looks at you then to Emilia "what did i do?"

"You invited him?! When I told you not" Emilia shouts at her brother, you walk over to the two.

"He's my friend"

"She's family!" Emilia snaps.

"I didn't think it would be a big deal they broke up last year"

"8 months" you correct him.

Kevin looks at you, his eyebrows scrunched "wow y/n you need to get over it" your month drops and at the same time you reach out to roughly punch his arm as Emilia punches his gut.

"I loved him you dick" you hiss. "That shit doesn't go away"

"And it doesn't make it easier that your dumbass invited him to an event like this, in his suit looking like a full course meal"

"Emilia shut up" you scrunch your eyebrows.

"Sorry but he does," she says under her breath.

"Disrespectful" Kevin shakes his head at his sister.

"Dude what?! You're the reason we're even having this conversation"

Just then the venue door opens and your aunt, Kevin and Emilia's mom peeks her head into the hall. "Kevin what are you doing in here?! It's time for the dance" she hisses.

Kevin rushes back inside and Emilia takes your hand in hers leading you back in.

You both stand by the door watching as your cousin makes his way to the dance floor with his now wife.

Your heart warms at the sight of their smiling faces as the beautiful ballad plays through the speakers.

As you remain focused on the couple you don't notice that Zabdiel's eyes have found you again, your dress sprinkling from what little light is reflecting off the tiled floor.

You look gorgeous and in that moment he allows himself to pretend like your still his like he could walk over to you right now and take you onto the dance floor.

But his daydream is shattered when he sees Jeremy doing that instead. His heart aches at the sight of you taking another man's hand.

He knows it'll hurt less if he just looked away but he can't seem to force himself to do that. He watches as you two sway along with many other couples on the dance floor.

-------------

"I'm bored," you say, you're at your aunt and uncles 25th-anniversary party that they decided to go all out for, renting a huge venue and a live band. Everyone is dress in formal attire.

"We've here 30 minutes" Zabdiel frowns at you.

"I don't care. This dress is tight" you adjust the waist area that is literally making it hard to breathe. "Plus I didn't even want to come, uncle Jonathan cheated like 5 times this is all just a way for them to show off that they have money" you roll your eyes.

"Ok keep your voice down" Zabdiel looks around to make sure none of your family members heard.

"Eh, they all know it's the truth" you wave off his concern.

"Ok well you look beautiful right now and it was important to your mom that her whole family show up" he reminds you making you sigh.

"I know I know" you nod.

"I'm just bored and annoyed that I literally can't eat in this thing," you say.

Zabdiel frowns at your discomfort. "Ok how about we dance for a good 10 minutes make sure everyone sees you and then we go?" You sigh but nod.

Zabdiel smiles, standing to his feet and extending his hand to you. You happily place your hand in his and he leads you off to the dance floor. Zabdiel, of course, being the best Latino dancer to live, is sweeping you across that dance floor. You smile at his concentration as he watches both your feet. Your family is whistling and cheering you guys on like it's a performance and you two can't help but laugh.

You hear a flash go off and you look up to see your mom smiling widely holding up her phone.

Zabdiel looks over at her smiling and she seizes the moment and takes another picture of you both looking at her.

---------

the photographer for the wedding takes a picture of you and Jeremy and a huge part of Zabdiel is relieved when he notices how fake your smile is.

He finally forces himself to look away, walking over to the bar slash snack booth just as the dance comes to an end.

He orders his favorite beer, the employee informs him that he has to grab more bottles from the back and leaves you to wait. Zabdiel is looking at the prices of the snacks and doesn't notice when you and Jeremy walk up beside him, you don't notice him either too busy jokingly telling Jeremy he's a horrible dancer.

he only looks over when he hears "I'm going to bathroom real quick" Jeremy kisses your cheek before leaving you to order 2 cokes one for each of you.

You wait patiently for the employee to return when you hear Zabdiel's voice say "you guys looked cute out there" it's obvious sarcasm and your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you turn to look at him, it's weird to see him in person after so long.

His features have sculptured out nicely making him look more like a man than a boy like he use to.

Shocked you don't respond to him right away "I almost didn't recognize your fake smile" he tells you making your frown.

"I wasn't fake smiling" you manage to snap out of your shock.

"Come on y/n I know you better than anyone. You don't like him." He's not looking at you and it only pisses you off more.

"You use to know me Zabdiel" that stings him just like you knew it would. "And I'm very happy with him" You scoff.

Zabdiel turns to look at you now but you've already turned to look straight ahead.

"You didn't smile like that when you were with me. Your smile use to meet your eyes" the purse in your lips drops but you still refuse to look at him.

"That was a long time ago"

"8 months ago"

----------

"Don't walk away from me" Zabdiel shouts after you, his voice is demanding like he's talking to a child and it pisses you off, you turn screaming "or what? What are you gonna do Zabdiel?"

"Just come back inside y/n" he sighs gesturing to the bar behind him that you just stormed out of.

"You always do this" you scoff. "Do what?" He exclaims.

"Belittle my feelings" your walking closer to him but your voice doesn't lower.

"Then tell me why you're mad," he says.

Your eyebrows scrunch together "are you dense? I literally told you I wanted to go like 40 minutes ago, but instead you wanted to stay and talk to her"

"Lower your voice" he hisses stepping closer to you.

"Fuck off" you spit

"She's a fan y/n and we were having a nice conversation" he ignores you cursing at him.

"I haven't seen you in 4 months" you squint "if you think conversations with her are so interesting then just go back inside and go home with her" you turn to leave but Zabdiel grabs your wrist.

"I just wanted to have a good time and hang out with my friends." He tells you, you try to tug your wrist away but he doesn't loosen up.

"Then go back inside and let me go" you finally push his hand off of you and storm away, of course, Zabdiel follows after you.

---------------

You finally look to Zabdiel who's already staring back you, his brown eyes soft yet full of so many emotions.

"Here you go sir" the employee comes back with Zabdiel's beer, Zabdiel turns to him, handing him a five and when he turns back to you he finds the spot beside him empty.

Turning his head he sees the back of your dress disappear into a crowd.

-----------

"Don't do this" Tears form in Zabdiel's eyes as he stares at the woman he thought he was gonna marry one day.

"I can't anymore, I'm so-" your voices cuts out and you clear your throat. "I'm tired of being alone all the time and only getting you for a couple of days at most of the month" you cry.

"Please y/n" he steps towards you but you immediately step away from him shaking your head.

"I can't" you repeat.

"I love you" He sounds broken and it takes everything in you to not just apologize and take him into your arms.

"I love you too, and I just want you to be happy," you say.

"I am happy! I'm happy with you"

You shake your head "but I'm not" Zabdiel face falls from sad to hurt "I'm not happy" you whisper "I'm tired of being alone all the time, I'm tired of seeing videos of you with girls in the club-" Zabdiel tries to cut you off but you raise your hand "I know that's not serious but Zabdiel I need someone who is gonna be around for me" you pause "we don't even know if we'd even work out if you weren't away so long. The second we settle into a rhythm you leave to another state and this isn't healthy for a relationship"

"Please" he tries to beg but you've made up your mind.

"This is your life, and I thought I could handle it but it's been 3 years and I-" you cute yourself off swallow a lump in your throat. "I can't keep pushing how shitty I feel aside just because I love you."

-----------

Zabdiel watches as Jeremy slips off his blazer throwing it over your shoulder as you both wait for the valet to bring his car around.

You sense someone's gaze on you and you're not surprised when you look over your shoulder to find Zabdiel leaning against the wall by the entrance.

You both remain staring at each other, Zabdiel wants to tell you how much he still loves you and how you don't belong with Jeremy because you belong with him.

You want to tell Zabdiel how much you will always love him but neither of you move. When Jeremy leads you to the car you look away as you get into the passenger seat.

You turn back to look at him one final time as Jeremy gets into the driver seat. Zabdiel can't read your face, he never could when you didn't want him to but he already knows how you feel.

So he turns and walks back into the venue. It hurts him more then anything but if this is what you want then he respects that.

He knows he will never stop loving you and the amount of love he feels for you will never be matched by anyone you give your heart too, no matter how hard you look, his love for you was the best.

---------

so this was also inspired by Someone Great on Netflix like with all the flashbacks

I hope you enjoyed this

now it’s time for me to sleep bc it’s so late, I'm actually embarrassed to say how late it is

#cnco #zabdiel de jesus #zabdiel de jesus imagine #bella's 1000 follower contest

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definitely-not-black-cat · 6 years

Text

I Was Wrong

This is for @h-osterfield 5k writing challenge. Congrats hon!!! I hope you like it!!

Warnings - Slight angst, very poorly written enemies to lovers

Word Count - 3081 (longest I’ve ever written)

“Come on, it’s just one party. Besides, you have been moping around your apartment for like a week. You need to get out of the house and stop thinking about him so much.” Your best friend, Tom encouraged, sighing when you started to shake your head in denial.

“I told you, I’m not going. I’m not ready.”

“You ARE ready, Y/N, you know you are. You can’t just sit here and mope over Lucas all the time. It’s time to move on, lord knows he has.” He seemed afraid to approach the topic, and with good reason.

Lucas. He had been your boyfriend for almost a year before breaking up with you, claiming the relationship was getting “too serious” for him. What did that even mean? And why did he decide nine months after being officially exclusive with you, AND being the first to say I love you, that it was suddenly “too serious”? You didn’t know, and even though the break up had happened a little over a week ago, you still felt the dull ache, or was it a weight, in your chest, anchoring you to your bed. Tom had been by just about every single day to check up on and take care of you, but you felt like you were never going to be happy again. It hurt, and Tom understood, but he was tired of watching you feel sorry for yourself, deciding that you needed to do something to get your mind off of it. But, as Tom expected, you weren’t going to agree easily. Luckily, he was prepared to argue with you all night if that’s what it took.

“Will Harrison be there?” You asked after a few moments of silence. Tom pressed his lips into a thin line, trying desperately to avoid your burning, accusatory gaze. You raised your eyebrows, in no mood to play games with him when he sighed, nodding his head. “Then I’m definitely not going.”

Harrison. He had been the bane of your very existence for as long as you could remember. He had started out okay enough, but as more time went on, you began to see him for the cocky, arrogant, and ignorant person he was. This, of course, confused both Haz and Tom, because he had never done anything directly to you, except flirt unashamedly here and there. Tom tried to change your mind insisting that he “wasn’t that bad” and that he was “a really great guy, once you get to know him”, but you weren’t buying it. You knew that someone didn’t have to do bad things to you directly to be a bad person. Harrison was only concerned with one person. Himself. And you, being the selfless, loving person you were, despised him for it.

Sure, sometimes being so selfless lead to your own pain in the long run. It was bound to happen a time or two in a world full of people like Harrison. And maybe, in truth, your issue wasn’t really with Harrison at all, but more with his type. The type of person who would hurt others just for their own personal gain. The type who doesn’t care who they have to hurt in their climb to the top. The type that reminded you of Lucas and pretty much all of your other exs. In fact, when you stopped to think about it, you never really understood why Tom was friends with him at all.

“Y/N!” Tom shouted, shaking your shoulder and pulling you from your thoughts. He laughed lightly at you as you blinked a few times, coming back to the conversation at hand.

“You know how I feel about Harrison. I put up with him when I have to, because I love you, but this doesn’t exactly seem like a ‘have to’ situation, Tom.” You scowled, groaning in frustration, when you realized that he wasn’t going to let it go.

“Y/N, you probably won’t even see him. I’m not taking no for an answer, now go get ready, and let’s go.”

He left you in your room, and you sighed, knowing that there was no way you were going to win this fight. Finally giving in, you quickly pulled on a pair of black tattered jeans and a deep V-neck white halter top that rested just above your belly button. Immediately after changing, you put your hair into a loose bun on top of your head, pulling a few strands to frame your face, and quickly did your make up as Tom started to ask when you thought you’d be ready. You’d called out that’d you’d be five minutes and you could hear him laugh as you swiped on a second layer of mascara before stepping out of the bathroom and meeting Tom in the hallway. You held your arms out, asking for approval before twirling to show him your full outfit. With a warm smile, he nodded before grabbing his keys and closing the door to your apartment, allowing you to lock it.

The drive over was practically silent and filled with uneasy nerves. You were biting your nails, a bad habit you’d developed when you were young, and Tom sighed at you before pulling your fingers from between your teeth, followed by a pointed look that dared you to try it again. You huffed at him in frustration before you realized he had stopped and parked the car, causing you to hold your breath with anxiety. Tom laughed lightly, crossing in front of the car to open your door for you, offering his arm, which you took with a grateful, but incredibly nervous smile. In an act of reassurance, he patted your hand comfortingly before pulling you into the host’s house.

Music was pouring through the rooms and people were jumping and grinding on each other as well as cheering and talking loudly over the music. If you paid attention, you could probably eavesdrop on just about anyone’s conversations around you, but decided to allow Tom to pull you into the kitchen where there was at least two opened boxes of every beer brand you could possibly think of. Tom set the case of beer he brought down on the counter, opening the fridge and grabbing two of his favorite beers, pulling the top off of both before handing one to you. You scrunch your nose in distaste at his gesture, causing him to laugh loudly.

“There isn’t much else to drink, love. You and I both know that once you’ve had enough you won’t care anymore.” He leaned closer to you, trying to avoid yelling too much before offering you the beer once more. You thought it over, weighing the pros and cons in your head before taking the beer from him, putting the neck of the bottle to your lips and choking a few sips down, making a face at the bitter taste in the process. Tom chuckled again, leading you both out into the living room where you danced together for a little while.

A few beers in, honestly you’d lost count, and you were feeling pretty good. You had been hanging out with a couple of friends Tom and you shared, surprising yourself by genuinely enjoying the night. You hadn’t seen Harrison the entire time you’d been there, and you hadn’t thought about Lucas once. That was, of course, until he walked in with some brunette tucked comfortably under his arm. Tom was nowhere in sight, as he had taken off about an hour ago to catch up with a few friends. He’d promised he’d be back soon, but how could he have known that your ex would show up at this party with another girl on his arm? You inhaled sharply, excusing yourself from the conversation you were currently in to head into the kitchen where hopefully you wouldn’t see Lucas anymore. Your luck just kept getting better though, when you found Harrison leaned up against the counter, scrolling through something on his phone. You huffed in agitation, crossing to the fridge to grab another beer, hoping he wouldn’t notice you, but, of course, you couldn’t have been that lucky.

“Y/N?” He called you and you groaned, turning from the fridge and facing him. As much as you disliked him, you had to admit, Harrison was very attractive. He had crystal blue eyes, and perfectly quiffed dirty blond hair. He could have any girl in the world wrapped around his fingers in mere seconds if he wanted, and you were convinced that if he tried hard enough, that would include you, too.

“Please leave me alone, Harrison. You’re not my favorite person today.” You grumbled, trying desperately to open the beer in your hands, but the deep grooves on the lid kept pressing too deeply into your hands. You whimpered a little as you noticed red slashes across your palm. Apparently, Harrison noticed too, because while maintaining eye contact with you, he pushed himself off the counter, crossing the kitchen to you. He carefully took the beer from your hand and opened it before handing it back to you. You mumbled a thank you and he nodded in response.

“I’m not your favorite person on any day, darling. Not that I’m sure why, as I’ve never done anything to make you dislike me. What’s wrong?” He asked softly, easily noticing the sad expression on your face. You grimaced in response.

“Like you care.”

“I actually do, Y/N. What happened? Should I go get Tom?”

“It’s Lucas.” You sighed, unsure why you felt the sudden urge to tell him what had caused you to be upset. Maybe it was all the beer you’d had to drink. You weren’t sure. Nevertheless, you avoided his beautiful eyes, taking a long drink of beer before Harrison gently pulled the bottle from your lips. His eyebrows furrowed with concern and you sighed again.

“Your boyfriend?” The confusion was easily readable on his face. Had he always looked that cute? You shook your head violently, reminding yourself who you were talking to.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected. Harrison scrambled to mumble out an embarrassed apology before you cut him off. “He broke up with me like a week ago. He said it was getting ‘too serious’. Anyway, he’s here with another girl. I got upset when I saw them, and so…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the beer in your hand. Haz nodded in understanding, and you could tell he was trying to think of something to say to comfort you.

“You want to give him a taste of his own medicine?” He asked after what felt like an eternity of uncomfortable silence.

“What?”

“We could uh-” He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck and if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost say that you could see a hint of blush lightly kissing his cheeks. You raised your eyebrows impatiently, encouraging him to continue. “We could try to make him jealous. Y-you and me. If you want to, of course.”

“Harrison, in case you’ve forgotten, we hate each other.” You growled, narrowing your eyes. How dare he even ask you that.

“Actually, princess,” Harrison cleared his throat, something Tom said he did when he was nervous, kind of like you biting your nails, “It’s you who hates me, remember? I’ve no reason to hate you, and I’ve spent the last four years trying to give you space and figure out why you hate me so much. I don’t know what I ever did to you, Y/N, but I’m really sorry for it.”

“What did you have in mind?” You asked, trying to ignore the guilt that twisted in your stomach at his comments. He beamed at you, taking your hand and leading you out to the living room where the music was the loudest. He scanned the crowd for who you could only assume was Lucas before leaning over to talk in your ear.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, pulling back to see an incredulous look on your face. What kind of question was that? Of COURSE you didn’t trust him, you barely even tolerated him. Haz rolled his eyes at your expression. “Do you trust Tom?”

“What does Tom have to do with this?”

“Would he let me do anything to hurt you?” He countered and you shrunk a little bit in your spot. It was something that had never crossed your mind before. You thought the world of Tom, and you’d spent so much time wondering how the hell he could be friends with someone like Harrison, that you never stopped to think that there HAD to be some kind of redeeming quality in Haz that Tom could see, even if you couldn’t. You knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Tom would never let Harrison do anything to hurt you, and for the first time ever, you weren’t so sure that he would ever do anything to hurt you in the first place.

Dazed and riddled with more guilt, you shook your head no in response to his question, causing him to give you a small smile. He reached out to you, and as if you were in some sort of trance, you actually stepped closer to him when he gently put his hands on your waist. The two of you began to dance to the music that was playing, a smile growing gradually on each of your faces as your bodies began to move in sync with each other. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was Harrison’s charm finally wearing you down, but you find yourself actually having a great time with him. You notice his gaze scan the group of people around you a few times, smirking and whipping you both around so that you can see Lucas’s eyes trained on you, and you recognized the jealousy his expression held. You smirked back at Haz, causing him to chuckle a little bit, turning you so that you both could see him clearly from the corners of your eyes.

“You ready to sell it?” He asked a little breathlessly, and you laughed.

“How are we going to do that?”

“Do you trust me yet?” He asked, pulling away to rest his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes for any signs of hesitation. You nodded your head, not even needing to think about it anymore.

Harrison nodded with you, clearing his throat again, and you wondered what he could be nervous about. He gripped you hip tightly, glancing one last time at Lucas to make sure he was watching, before cupping your cheek with his other hand and pulling you into him. Your lips crashed together and your eyes widened in shock. But, what surprised you more was that you were kissing him back. Harrison Osterfield, the bane of your existence was kissing you, and you weren’t completely hating it. He slipped his tongue along your bottom lip, and you moaned gently in response. Harrison pulled away quickly, eyes frantically searching your face for any indication that he had just heard you properly. You bit your lip shyly, looking at the ground and feeling blush burn your cheeks.

“Did you just-”

“Do you want to question it, or do you want to keep kissing me?” You interrupted, feeling a sudden surge of confidence wash through you.

“I-I want to k-keep kissing you.” He stammered out, causing you to giggle before grabbing two fists full of his shirt, bringing his lips back to yours. You felt him swipe his tongue along your bottom lip again, and this time, you parted you lips to let him in. Sparks of electricity shot through you as your tongue rolled in sync with his and suddenly you couldn’t remember why you hated him so much in the first place. Haz pulled away again, a smirk sitting comfortably on his face, and you rolled your eyes.

“Why did you do all of this?” You couldn’t help but ask, and maybe you shouldn't have. Maybe you should have learned to just live in the moment, but the curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn’t think of a single nice thing you had ever done for Harrison, so why was he being so nice to you?

“I have to be honest, I didn’t completely do it for you. Of course, I wanted to help you, but you’re just so gorgeous, and you hated me, and I didn’t know how else to talk to you. I saw a chance and I took it.” He admitted sheepishly, ducking his head. “I get it if you hate me more now.”

“Actually, Harrison,” You beamed, moving your hands from his shoulders into his hair. You made a fist in the curls that sat at the nape of his neck and he closed his eyes with a light grunt “I have never hated you less than I do right now.”

“Is that supposed to be a good thing?” He asked breathlessly, tongue swiping across his swollen bottom lip. You opened your mouth to respond when Tom walked up to the two of you, looking a little concerned.

“Are you okay? I heard Lucas is here.” He huffed, running a stressed hand through his hair, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he would be here. If I had known I never would have-”

“Tom, it’s okay.” You interrupted him hastily, “Harrison kept me busy.” You bit your lip cheekily, glancing to Haz who laughed gently before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wait. You two spent time together and she didn’t kill you? What’s going on here?” Tom wanted to know, pointing at you with an accusatory glare. Harrison sent you an unsure look, immediately coming to your defense.

“It was noth-”

“Hopefully,” You interrupted, smiling warmly at Harrison before turning to Tom, “the start of something beautiful. Right Harrison?” You leaned towards him, planting a soft kiss on his lips. This kiss was different than the others, instead of being rushed and intense, it was sweet and dare you say, romantic. Harrison laughed gently, kissing your forehead after pulling away, linking his fingers with yours.

“It’s about damn time you two! Now let’s go home and watch Netflix or something.” Tom offered, leading the way out of the party and towards the car. Call it a hunch, but you knew things were going to be different between Harrison and you from now on.

Tag list is open!

@lovelyspidey // @thelazypangolin // @hazsterfield // @sleepwalkingdragon // @broadwayshtuff // @hellomadamebutterfly // @silencinq // @moon-390 // @spideyyypeter // @awkwardfangirl2014 //

#hosterfields5kwc #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfeild imagine #harrison osterfeild x reader #enemies to lovers

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they-need-a-revolutionary · 6 years

Text

TLC Secret Santa 2018!!

@nerdishfeels i finally finished it! here is your gift. it is a kaider fic about them going on a new year’s eve date after a long state dinner. merry christmas and happy new year! enjoy :)

Cinder puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes in annoyance.

“Almost done, Your Majesty," Iko said calmly. She slid the last pin into the elaborate twist. A footman standing next to the two women held out a lacquered box with a small golden clasp. Iko flicked the latch and raised the lid. Gently she lifted the glittering tiara off of its plush, emerald green velvet cushion. “Come to mama," she murmured. The footman closed the box and dismissed himself with a nod.

Cinder straightened her spine in preparation for the headpiece. “Where'd you get this one, Cinder?" Iko asked, admiring the polished diamonds and smooth pearls.

Cinder glanced behind her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, that one was a wedding gift from Queen Camilla. She gave it to me because it's known as the Lotus Flower Tiara, and the lotus is the EC's emblem. It was made in 1923, Second Era.”

“Ooh, vintage!”

“Yeah, the metal scrollwork is admirable, considering the primitive tech and tools they had back in the day.”

“Leave it to you to get your little mechanic brain all wrapped around jewelry.” Iko placed the tiara gently on Cinder’s head, nestling it safely in the stablest parts of her hairstyle. “You look beautiful, Cinder." Iko bent to kiss her friend's cheek.

“Thanks, Iko.” The two turned in unison at a sharp rap on the mahogany door frame.

“Ready to go, gorgeous?" Kai stood effortlessly straight, a dashing figure in his expertly tailored suit. Cinder rose to meet him but he crossed the room first, catching her painted lips in a kiss. Cinder steadied her tiara with one hand and she could feel some of the stress leave her shoulders just knowing her husband would suffer through this horrible function with her. They broke apart and Iko promptly whacked Kai's arm with a makeup brush.

“Kai! Now I have to reapply her lipstick and adjust her hair. And you're already going to be late!” Iko cried.

Kai placed a gentle hand on Cinder's back, sending the same chill down her spine that it had four years ago. “Well, I'm sure the diplomats can wait an extra minute. Take your time, Iko.”

Cinder sat back down as Iko deftly rearranged pins. “Remind me again why we have to go to this dinner, Kai?" Cinder asked, trying to hide a twinge of whine in her voice.

Kai dragged a hand down his face. “It's a tradition. The leaders of Earth get together for dinner every New Year's Eve. According to official media, we talk about world events and general politics. But usually, everyone is so busy stuffing their faces that very little work gets done. Anyway, it's our turn to host this year. It was going to be in Australia, but it turned out they were in the middle of major renovations that they conveniently forgot about until a week ago. Sorry I didn't involve you more.”

“It's ok,” Cinder started. She paused as Iko approached her face with a lip brush. Once her friend-slash-stylist-slash-hair-and-makeup-artist had finished, she continued. “But afterward, I'd like to do something together. Just me and you. Ok?” She gave her lips a final swipe and stood back up again.

“Of course,” Kai said. Cinder could hear the sympathy in his voice. Kai gave a pointed look at Iko as he kissed Cinder’s cheek. The android made a small disapproving noise but said nothing. Kai bent his arm and Cinder slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. She loved the sureness she felt holding onto him like that, her anchor in a sea of anxieties and mistakes waiting to happen. They glided down the corridors together, followed at a distance by a half-dozen security staff.

When they entered the dining room, the diplomats stood and the kitchen staff bowed their heads. It had taken Cinder months to get used to having that kind of effect when simply moving within her own home. She took a deep breath and forced herself to embody an empress, calling forth her memories of royal training.

As they were led to their seats, Kai grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “It’s going to be fine,” he whispered. Cinder nodded briefly and smoothed her blue crepe skirt. That was the other thing she hated about these functions: she and all the other women had to pretend they were comfortable in their tight, movement-obstructing, or generally unpleasant dresses. She made a mental note to consult Iko about it, and that next time she would insist on wearing a suit as well.

As soon as the first course was presented, conversation ceased and each person was focused solely on eating as much food as humanly possible. Cinder spent most of the meal rotating between chicken satay, tofu curry, steamed bok choy, and a variety of sweet buns. Kai immediately dove for his favorites: chili crab, vegetable egg rolls, inarizushi, and gulab jamun.

When the waiters began clearing plates, part of Cinder wished that the dinner had been scheduled for longer so she could have eaten more. That feeling soon faded as various representatives and politicians swarmed around her and Kai to personally wish them a happy new year. There was a sudden lull in activity, and the two young monarchs only needed to exchange one glance before they both made a beeline for the large double doors leading to the main hall. Cinder leaned against the wall, savoring the relative quiet. One of the women guarding the door glanced in Cinder’s direction but showed no reaction other than a slight inclination of her head.

“So, what did you want to do?” Kai asked.

Cinder chewed her lip and let her eyes wander around the hallway. “Um… I don’t know…” She spun a phantom wrench between her fingers as she considered their options. Kai always loved when she did that, when she was so lost in her own thoughts that the rest of reality seemed to vanish. He gazed at her, still in disbelief that he had married the girl of his dreams. He could almost see the literal mechanisms in her head turning.

Abruptly, Cinder looked straight at Kai, eyes bright. “I know! Let’s go watch the lantern lighting in the park.”

Kai looked at his watch. “Cinder, it’s already 11:30. Are you sure we can make it in time?”

“Yes, what are you waiting for? If we run we’ll have time to change clothes.” Without another word, Cinder grinned and took off down the carpeted hall as fast as her pinchy shoes and confining dress would allow. Kai smiled and ran to catch up with her.

Back in her dressing room, Cinder didn’t even stop to breathe. She rifled through her closet in search of her comfiest cargo pants and sweatshirt. She found them quickly and tossed them on the floor. Iko was no doubt at a wild party so Cinder was left to undo her formal outfit by herself. She placed her delicate tiara on her vanity table. A glance at the clock told her that there was no time for her to remove her makeup or take the pins out of her hair. With a shrug she shimmied out of her evening gown and heels, somehow managing to pull on her incognito clothes at the same time. She had to dig deeper in her closet to find her favorite boots, and she tied them sloppily to save time. She threw on her hood and emerged from her room to wait for Kai.

A moment later, his door opened and Cinder saw that he was wearing his old ratty gray hoodie. She smiled and grabbed his hand.

“Come on, we only have fifteen minutes. I want to get as close as we can to the lanterns.” Cinder pushed the door open and ran much faster than before in her well-worn shoes.

They barreled down the hallways, garnering a multitude of stares from very confused staff, but no one tried to stop them. Cinder couldn’t help but laugh as they scrambled down the stairs to the main road. She hadn’t felt this free and spontaneous since before she became Empress. She glanced at Kai, who was smiling just as wide. The two of them raced around corners and dodged several hovers as they navigated the maze of New Beijing’s streets.

Kai paused against a wall a few blocks from the park, panting. “Wait… a second… I need… to catch my breath… Why… did I skip… calisthenics… with Torin every... day as a kid?”

Cinder snorted as she slowed to a stop. She extended a hand to pull him upwards. Kai accepted, but as she began to drag him up, he drew her forward.

“Ahhh!” Cinder gave a yell as she was thrown off balance. Kai grabbed her other arm to keep her from falling and pulled her into a warm embrace.

“Hey, slow down a minute. I just want to hug you. I love you. A lot.”

Cinder gave a relaxed sigh and nodded into his chest. “I love you too.” She tilted her head back to look at him and tugged his head toward hers for a kiss. She glanced to the left when they broke apart, pulling up a small clock in the corner of her vision. 11:52. Her eyes widened. “Kai, we have to go now or we’ll miss it!”

Kai relaxed his grip. Slowly a mischievous smile grew across his face. “Race you!” he cried. He bolted toward the park before Cinder had time to react. He was already half a block away when she shook her head and followed.

Cinder arrived at the park gate just a few seconds after Kai. He grabbed her hand, momentarily shocked by the coldness of the metal, and they walked in together. Somehow they were able to squeeze their way into the third row of the crowd, the unlit lanterns so close that Cinder could spot the soldered joints of the metal frames behind the ornate paper.

The time was 11:58. Kai stood behind Cinder with his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She rested her head on his bicep as she gazed at the decorations surrounding them. She gave a contented sigh and breathed in the cold night air. It was sharp against her skin, refreshingly jarring compared to the consistent temperature in the palace. The savory smell of fried meat was wafting from a nearby restaurant. The aroma mingled with faint smoke from firecrackers that had been lit earlier in the evening, likely to appease children who weren’t allowed to stay up past ten. Midnight drew closer and the volume of the crowd increased steadily.

“Ten,

nine,

eight,

seven,

six,

five,

four,

three,

two,

one! Happy new year!!”

The lights in the lanterns flicked on while the spectators cheered. Cinder turned her head and smiled at Kai before pressing her lips to his. She could already tell that this was going to be a great year.

#tlc secret santa 2k18 #tlcss2k18 #the lunar chronicles #the lunar chronicles fanfiction #kai #cinder #kaider #kaider fic

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themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years

Text

The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 17

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Seventeen, Anna

Ava

"I've got the bag!" Lacey called from the nursery.

"Great, I've pumped and prepped the bottles."

"Perfect. I'll drop her off," Lacey said, taking Nel from my arms. She leaned in and kissed my cheek before freezing. "Okay we are getting way too comfortable with this."

I hadn't seen Dean for a week and a half, I'd been avoiding Sam like the plague, and Lacey had stayed over every night to help me with Nel. My wounds were mostly healed, my bruises were yellow and my fractured rib was mostly a constantly dull ache instead of an intense stabbing pain. Progress right?

John or Bobby would occasionally pick her up and take her to Dean. I didn't know where he was staying, and I wasn't sure I had the right to ask.

"Yeah, I guess we are."

Lacey put her hand on my shoulder. "Listen, Ave. I'm your friend so I'm gonna bring out the hard truth, the big guns, you've gotta talk to him. You've gotta stop hiding out."

I groaned. "You're the one who said to give him space!"

"Yeah, I did, and you have. From what you've said since he left... well you know what you want. Now it's time to go see what he wants. If the apocalypse is really coming then we all may not have as much time as we think we do, so why waste it? Ya know?"

"What if he doesn't want me?"

"Ava, I know we don't know each other that well, but you don't seem like the kind that gets insecure."

I shrugged. "I guess the whole husband and boyfriend thing has me in a weird place."

"What about Sam? You haven't mentioned him since the incident."

"I don't know what to say." I shrugged. "I've never known what to say."

"Well you better figure it out." Lacey smiled wishfully. "Before it's too late."

Dean

I woke up to the light coming into my motel room. I groaned and rubbed my eyes, my hangover aching behind my forehead. I knew that I should be being productive, or doing anything, but when Eleanor wasn't with me I didn't see the point in any of it. My time in Hell was haunting me when I wasn't sleeping next to Ava, and I couldn't figure out how to look at her or Sam right now, so I didn't bother calling. I needed to work out my shit.

My phone rang, and the second I thought my head couldn't hurt more I was proven wrong.

I groaned, grabbing for it without checking the caller ID. Amateur move. "What do you want?"

"Dean, you finally picked up. I didn't think you would."

Sammy. I groaned again. He had called on the hour every day, and I'd be avoiding his calls. I didn't feel like talking.

"Don't hang up,” he said desperately. "There's been development... listen. I know you don't want to see me, but I found a possible apocalypse lead."

I squinted my eyes. Classic Sam, trying to weasel his way back into my life with a case. I snorted. "Give me the details and I'll check it out."

"No way. We are going together."

"Sam, come on, don't make me kick your ass again." I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Do what you have to do. I'm coming by your motel."

I sat up slowly. "My motel?"

"Used find my phone."

I couldn't help but smile, the kid learned after all. "Fine, but I'm not making any promises."

"Deal."

Click.

I got up, and got dressed. I made myself some coffee and opted for some pain medicine. While my coffee brewed, I shoved my head under the sink and drank water right from the faucet. If felt nice rolling down my throat.

By the time Sam arrived my headache was almost gone, and I was in a less murderous mood.

"Hey,” Sam said, a little out of breath as I opened the motel door.

I grunted in response, not feeling particularly civil.

His jaw looked healed from when I hit him. That was good. I didn't feel like having to deal with the guilt that came from hurting my little brother, no matter how much he deserved it. I sat down at the small table and sipped my now-cold coffee. "So what is this intel?"

"I uh... I heard about this girl, Anna. Apparently the demons really want her. She just broke out of a locked mental ward at a hospital."

"How do you know the demons want her?" I eyed him.

"You're going to be mad."

"I'm already mad, Sam."

He winced and cleared his throat. "Ruby told me."

"Oh great. So I'm gone for a few months, you get with my girl, and are buddy buddy with demons. Excellent." I pushed my coffee away. It suddenly tasted sour.

"She sought me out. She thought we should know."

"Sure she did. And you just trust her?"

"I don't know, man. We have checked things out for less."

He had a point, but I was still pissed. I was pissed about everything, if I was being honest. "Fine, but this is strictly business," I said standing. "No brother bonding, because I don't trust you right now."

Sams jaw was tight as he nodded, probably willing to take whatever he could get.

We packed up the car, and I checked out of the motel room. She was only a five hour drive away and it was still early, so we would make it to the hospital with plenty of time.

I cranked up the music as I pulled Baby out of the parking lot. I hoped this would keep Sam from using the close quarters and miles of road in front of us to his advantage.

After an hour of awkward silence Sam finally had enough. He reached forward and turned down the volume. Right as I expected him to confront me he took out his phone and dialed. "Yup this is Detective Hanscum. Sure, badge number eight six bravo lima two seven zero. Uh huh. Looking for an Anna Milton. Can I get the missing persons report? Yup. Thanks." He turned off the phone. "So she's real." He glanced at me.

"We still don't know that she's important."

"We don't know she's not."

I gripped the steering wheel and clicked on the windshield wipers. It was starting to rain.

"Do you... can we talk?"

"Nope. Business only. I'm not ready to hear the excuses."

Sam turned his whole body to look at me. "Then what? I'm not with her. You gonna hate me forever?" He sounded like a little kid. Like when I found him wearing my favorite leather coat eating a popsicle.

"I don't hate you, Sammy, but I'm not exactly thrilled with you right now."

I sounded like a dad. Not my dad, but someone's. Someone who has a more well adjusted family.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Have you talked to her?"

I gripped the steering wheel harder. "Man you just don't listen, do you? We aren't doing this right now. Apocalypse first. Chick drama second" I said, trying to come off disinterested as if anything with Ava could just be chick drama.

"Yeah." He sucked in his breath. "You're probably right."

"See if you got the missing persons report," I said with a sigh. "Let's get all the information we can so we aren't walking in blind."

"You got it."

——————————-

"So the orderly doesn't remember the attack?" Sam asked, holding his pen to pad.

We were in Anna's room. It was stale, and looked like any other mental ward. There was a bed, and a desk. Windows with bars. I always felt itchy in places like this. If I ever told anyone the truth about my life I knew I'd be committed myself, and it never sounded like something I'd be into.

"Apparently she knocked him unconscious. The blow caused some amnesia. He doesn't even remember coming into the room,” the psychologist said as she clicked her own pen.

"Hell of a hit against someone who has eighty pounds on her." I eyed the doctor.

"We think she was planning it. Maybe hid behind the door."

"Anna's illness was recent, right?" Sam asked.

"Yes. A few months ago she was happy, well adjusted, journalism major, bright future."

"And what happened?" I took a step closer. "She just flipped?"

"That's the tragedy of schizophrenia. Within weeks she was overcome with delusions."

"What kind of delusions?" Sam asked, his eyebrows coming together.

"She saw demons everywhere,” the doctor said, handing Sam her sketch book.

"Interesting," I said with a cough. Sam handed me the notebook and I flipped through. A few pages in distinct, thick black lines scribbled the rise of the witnesses. Sam and I exchanged a look. I wasn't sure if I was happier being wrong about Ruby's lead, because now more than ever this all felt way too real. "Revelations."

"A lot of our patients delusions have religious undertones. Anna's father was a church deacon, so when her delusions got worse she believed the devil was going to rise. I hope you can find her, detective. It's dangerous for her to be out there alone." The doctor shook our hands. "I have patients."

"Of course," Sam said with a million dollar smile. "I think we have everything we need."

We made our way to the car before we spoke again. "Well I hate to say it, but I think Anna is connected."

"Yeah, ya think?"

I rolled my eyes in response. "I say we check out her parents house. Maybe she went there when she escaped."

"Worth a shot," Sam agreed as we got in the car.

The Milton's lived close, not even the length of two Bon Jovi songs on the radio. We got out and knocked on the glass in the door.

"Maybe they're not home," I said after a moment of silence.

"Both cars are in the driveway."

I tried the front door and it opened easily. "Mr and Mrs Milton? We are from the sheriffs department. We want to ask you a few questions..."

Sam grabbed my arm and turned me to look into the living room. Both of her parents were dead on the floor, throats slashed.

I bent down and touched a substance on the floor. "Sulfur," I said with a sigh.

"Demons beat us here. Whoever this Anna girl is the demons want her bad."

"And they're not playin around," I agreed. "We have to find this girl. So I'm girl interrupted, and I know the score of the apocalypse. Where do I go?"

Sam stared at a photo of a cute red head inside of a church. Must be Anna. "Hey let me see those sketches again."

I handed him the pages and he examined them. "It's the window from her church. Over and over again. She's religious and scared. I bet that's where she went."

The church was a tall gray building with a large kaleidoscope style window above the main door. The exact one Anna was drawing.

We walked in with our guns drawn. Maybe it's sacrilegious to walk into a church with a loaded gun, but hey I don't believe in god anyway, so what did I have to lose?

"Anna... we are here to help you. My name is Sam... this is my brother Dean."

Behind stained glass a flash of red poked out, along with two glowing green eyes. "Sam? Not Sam Winchester?"

"Yeah actually."

"And you're Dean? The Dean?"

"Well, yeah. The Dean I guess." I raised my eyebrows.

She was young. Maybe twenty two with deep red hair. She was thin, her face angular in a way that you see in makeup models. She looked exhausted, with half moons under her eyes, but in her iris something was on fire. "They talk about you all the time! You were in Hell, but Castiel pulled you out. Some of them think that you can help save us. Some of them don't like you at all. They talk about you all the time lately, I feel like I know you."

My stomach clenched. "You talk to angels?"

"Oh, no. No way! I just kind of overhear them. They talk and I just hear them in my head."

"Like now?"

"No, not now, but a lot. I can't tune them out there are so many of them," Anna said, her voice shaking. She wanted desperately to be believed. She was in luck.

"They looked you up with a case of the crazies, but you're really just tuned into angel radio?" I asked curiously.

"Yes... thank you." She reached out and took my hand. "The first words I heard, clear as a bell. Dean Winchester is saved."

"What do you think?" I asked Sam.

He shrugged. "No idea."

I squeezed her hand and she smiled. "At least we know why the demons want you. If they get you they'll know what the angels are up to. You're 1-800-ANGEL."

The door opened, and Anna started to scream. "Her face! She's a demon!"

I turned and was face to face with a brunette. "Ruby," Sam said with a frown.

"You've got the girl, good. We have to go."

"Ruby? Are you fucking joking?"

"Dean we can fight later!" Ruby said angrily. "There's a demon on our tail. He followed you from her parents house. We need to get her out now."

"How do I know you didn't lead him here?" I growled.

She sighed and shook her head. "It's too late, he's already here."

The door swung open again, and a man stood in plaid blazer and khaki pants.

I grabbed Anna and told her to hide. Her fingers left mine and she ran back behind the stained glass again.

Sam stood in front of me and held his hand out, palm flat. He focused, and the demon walked toward us. His eyes flickered white and he coughed a few times. "Oh, Sam. You don't have enough juice." He flicked his hand, sending Sam flying through the guard rail, and down the stairs.

"Sam!" I shouted, coming at the demon. He immediately grabbed me, sending his fist into my jaw.

"Hello, Dean. Long time no see,” the demon said angrily.

My eyes met his and without seeing his face I knew exactly who he was. I knew it in my bones. His voice haunted my nightmares. "Alastair."

"I knew you missed me,” he hissed, hitting me again and again.

I was able to get my hands between us, and I shoved him away, Sam catching him, putting a knife in his chest. He flickered a bit, electricity pulsing around the wound. "Oh Sam you'll have to do better than that!" He reached for the knife, trying to pry it out of his skin.

Sam and I looked around. Anna and Ruby were gone. I grabbed ahold of him and we ran with everything we had toward the stained glass window, busting through it.

Glass ripped our skin and clothes, but nothing compared to the horrible crack I felt when my body hit the concrete at the bottom of the long drop.

We cleaned up our wounds, and met back up with Ruby and Anna at an old barn outside of town. We borrowed a car so we wouldn't be followed, at least that was the idea.

"Hey are you okay?" I asked when I saw her.

She ran to me, wrapping her arms around me. "I am... thank you."

"Don't thank me. Not sure we are out of the woods yet," I said, stroking the length of her hair. She was freaked out, to say the least.

"Can I call my parents? I'm sure they're worried sick."

I pulled out of the hug and looked at her. Damn I hate this part. "Anna... I'm sorry. The demons got to them before we could."

She burst into tears, and I held her again. I let her cry, let it all out. She finally pulled away, wiping her eyes. "What's happening Dean?"

"I'm sorry kid. I just don't know, but I'll figure it out," I promised.

She pushed her hair behind her ears. "I need a second." She let go of me and walked into the other room to process what I'd told her. To process her grief.

"So what now?" I asked Sam.

"I don't know,” he sighed.

Ruby stood up suddenly. "We're you followed?"

"No," Sam said quickly.

"Well we have company," Ruby said stressed. "We've got to go. Where's the knife?"

Sam scratched his head. "I sort of lost it. It was stuck in that demons chest."

"Seriously?!" Ruby shouted grabbing a shot gun off the table. "Well we are fucked so I hope you two are happy."

The door blew open, and Castiel stepped into the doorway next to another man.

"Here for some divine intervention? We could use the help." I said with a sigh of relief.

"We are here for Anna," Castiel said.

"Like... here for her here for her?" I asked slowly, questioning his meaning.

"Are you going to help her?" Sam asked.

"No,” the second man said.

Castiel met my eyes. "She has to die."

"You want Anna? Why?" Sam asked alarmed.

"We want her out of the way,” the other angel said flippantly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, I know she's wiretapping your angel chats or whatever, but it's no reason to gank her."

"Don't worry. I'll kill her gentle."

"You're some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?" I frowned.

Castiel sighed. "As a matter of fact, we are. And?"

"And? Anna's an innocent girl!" Sam exclaimed.

Castiel shook his head. "She is far from innocent."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means she's worse than this abomination you've been screwing. Now give us the girl,” the second angel said eyeing Ruby.

He took a step toward her and a bright light came, sucking the two of them away. Sam and I immediately ran into the other room to check on Anna.

"Are they gone?" She gasped. Her arm was sliced open and she was bleeding everywhere. Her hands were covered, and the mirror in front of her had a symbol drawn on it.

I grabbed her, hoping to support her, and I immediately started putting pressure on her wound.

"You killed them?" Sam asked.

"Just sent them away... far away."

"You want to tell me how?"

"That just popped in my head. I don't know how I did it. I just did it." She looked up at us desperately.

"How do you know this stuff Anna?" I asked, crouching to meet her eyes. "Think. How did you figure out those markings?"

"I...I think I may remember,” she said, hushed, she bit her lip. "It all came as a flash. First the sigil, and then..."

"Then what?" I asked her.

"Everything." Anna met my eyes. "I was an angel, Dean."

I looked at Sam alarmed and back to her. "An angel? Why do they want you?"

"I fell. I... I ripped out my grace."

"Your what?"

"The part of me that makes me an angel. I wanted to be human... so I fell and my mom became pregnant with me." She shook her head. "It's all still a little muddled, but I think I forgot the longer I was here. It was somewhere in my mind, locked away."

Sam and Ruby left us alone so I could stitch up her wounds, and so they could make a game plan. The angels would come back for her. They were angry that she left.

"This'll hurt, sorry about it," I said before pouring alcohol on her wound to clean it, and then pouring some on the needle I was going to use to stitch up her arm.

"It's okay,” she murmured.

"Can I ask you something? Why would you fall? Why would you want to be one of us?"

She looked at me as I stitched. "You don't mean that."

"I don't? A bunch of - of miserable bastards... Eating, crapping, confused, afraid."

"I don't know. There's loyalty... forgiveness... love." She sounded dreamy.

"Pain," I countered.

"Chocolate cake."

"Guilt."

"Sex."

I grinned. "Yeah, you got me there."

"I mean it. Every emotion, Dean, even the bad ones... every pain comes with joy. Falling in love... all of it. It's why I fell. It's why... why I'd give anything not to have to go back. Anything."

I could see the look on Sams face when he held Ava. How he didn't deny it when I asked if they were together. "Feelings are overrated, if you ask me."

"Beats being an angel."

I tied her stitches shut and held the cotton bandage over it. "How's that possible? You guys are powerful and perfect. You don't doubt yourselves or God or anything."

Anna winced and then laughed. "Yeah. Perfect... Like a marble statue. Cold... no choice... only obedience. Dean, do you know how many angels have actually seen God? Seen his face?"

"All of you?"

"Four angels. Four. And I'm not one of them."

"That's it? Well, then how do you even know that there is a God?"

"We have to take it on faith... Which we're killed if we don't have." She said grabbing my arm. "I was stationed on earth 2,000 years. Just... watching... silent... invisible... out on the road... sick for home... waiting on orders from an unknowable father I can't begin to understand. So don't tell me that..."

I laughed and shook my head.

"What is so funny?" She asked, annoyed.

"Nothing. Sorry. It's just...I can relate." I smiled and wrapped her arm. "Overbearing dad, check. I'm a soldier too."

“Hey Dean? Thank you. You two didn't need to protect me."

I shrugged. "You don't need to thank me. It's what I do."

"I don't know. Maybe I don't deserve to be saved,” she said looking away.

"Hey, Don't talk like that," I said, turning her face to look at me.

"I disobeyed. Lucifer disobeyed. It's our number one rule, and I knew it. Maybe I got to pay."

I took a deep breath, and stood up. "Yeah, well, we've all done things we got to pay for."

"Dean," she began as she stood up. "I got to tell you something. You're not gonna like it."

I eyed her. "Okay. what?"

"About a week ago, I heard the angels talking... About you... What you did in Hell. Dean, I know. It wasn't your fault. You should forgive yourself."

My jaw was tight and I blinked away wetness in my eyes. "Anna, I don't want to, uh... I can't talk about that."

"I know. But when you can, you have people that want to help. You are not alone. That's all I'm trying to say,” she said, taking my hand in hers.

I sucked in my breath and turned to look at her. There were things I couldn't say. Not to her, or Ava, or Sam. Not to anyone. Things I'd done that I couldn't bury forever. If pain was being human, then maybe I didn't want to be human. I just wanted to forget.

Anna reached up, touched my cheek, and pressed her lips to mine.

—————

Chapter Eighteen, Help Me Unravel My Latest Mistake

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silvermoonshipping-is-love · 6 years

Text

DrownedSilver Week Day 4: Family

WARNING: Child abuse/Child neglect

The light from the orange evening-sky turning into beams through the window, illuminating multiple spots of the kinda messy children's room mixed with the occasional sound from a videogame or the buttons of the controller being pushed was quite comforting. No stress, no noise, just this. Ben kept exploring the fictional world, quite a tad excitedly, slashing monsters along the way, not fully aware anymore how thissmall, but especially temporarily, joy being soon ripped apart like so often. Too indulged in the great fantasy landscapes he doesn't even fully register the door opening, until the shadow of the person lingering onto him almost made him shiver as if it was cold water. “Why are you playing?”, the voice of his mother making Ben flinch slightly as he looked up. Her look was stern and demanding for an answer. Ben hesitated with said one, but decided to swallow his anxiety for now. “Because it's fun”, he answered simply, shrugging, trying to act as normal as possible. His mother continued: “But didn't I tell you to do your homework?” “I already did it!”, Ben noticed the slight higher pitch, making his voice sound pleading almost, but ignored it for there having been no reason so far for any fear, “Look.”, he added and simply pointed to his desk, some books still lying there and his backpack leaning against the chair. Without a second glance she walked over, taking one of the books, looking through them. Ben's shoulders relax as his mother seems to not change her neutral expression, even letting out a small relieved sigh when she seemed pleased. “Yet I still didn't say that you could play after that, did I?” “Well, n-no, but-” Before he could continue his mother already rummaged through his backpack, not caring for her son's privacy. She took a certain folder from it, noticing the papers in there, making Ben freeze on the spot. “Mom, wait-” But he couldn't stop her as she opened it after carelessly throwing the back pack back down, flipping through the pages, her face darkening. “What are these tests and why have I not seen them before?” Ben was shaking, his mouth empty for words to explain. “I'm your parent! Shouldn't I know everything? You can't just hide something like this from us-” She stopped when her eyes fell back onto the papers, just now actually looking at the grades. “Oh?”, her voice laced with vicious intentions, “I see. You were ashamed of these grades, weren't you, Bentley?” Ben stayed silent. “You really thought by hiding them you would do us or yourself a favor? At least this thought explains your grades, because only stupid people come to that!” She stepped closer, Ben resisting every urge to move away from here, his mother presenting the paper right under his nose. “And those stupid doodle of these silly games you play?! Why would you do that? Stop wasting your time!” “I just-” “I told your father not to buy them for you. As we see they're clearly a bad influence. Do you want to constantly be a failure?!” “N-No”, Ben started, “B-But I just doodled them to calm me because of black-outs... Because I was hungry or tired-” He couldn't continue as he felt his hair being gripped and pulled, making him yelp. “Oh, so are you implying we're not caring for you properly?! Because we are! I do everything for you! I feed you, dress you and even gave birth to you and this is how you thank me, you ungrateful brat?! By hiding something from me and then accusing me of being a bad parent?! I'd rather have no kid than having you!”, his mother yelled, anger engulfing her voice fully. She started walking, still pulling on Ben's hair. “We'll talk with your father about this when he comes home.” Ben started shaking immensely, trying to remove his mother's grip and begging, tears threatening to spill but it was all in vain as he was thrown into his closet, the door locked shut. He knew crying for his mother to let him out or explain was useless, so instead he just curled up, sobbing, hoping his father will be tired enough when he comes back from work. * The silence of the apartment was so immense you could probably hear ants walking, but to Hibiki it wasn't anything unusual. His parents were gone, every day, every week, only coming home in the evenings or getting a glimpse of their figures in the mornings, unless it was the weekend, when they might as well just not exist. Hibiki wasn't too sure if he preferred that. His eyes always wandering back to the clock, waiting for it to strike 11 pm and the front door opening. Maybe today he will hear a 'We're home' and get a chat which lasted more than a few minutes with them, though this hope was given up long ago. He stood in the kitchen, getting ingredients for some simple dinner to eat, since like usual his parents forgot to lay any out. Just like lunch and often even breakfast. So Hibiki was forced to make his own. He must admit that he didn't mind that part too much, because cooking was honestly fun. Even if his parents never acknowledge it or thank him. Sometimes they even believed someone broke into their house or a ghost made them any food. Yet Hibiki continued, despite knowing it will be worthless in the end. After finishing he immediately silence his stomach, which has been 'whining' all day, sitting alone at the empty table, it feeling so vast from his perspective. During eating he got out his little notebook, which he kept for notes or poems in English, sometimes even as a replacement for a diary, writing into it, though careful not to spill any food on it's pages. Though Hibiki's flinch from the echoing click of the door almost caused said thing. However he quickly become excited, practically jumping off the chair and racing to the door like a pet having waited for it's owner. “Welcome home, mom and dad. Was work good?”, he he said, showing a polite smile. But it was ignored as they immediately went past him after taking off their shoes and into the living room, both completely exhausted. “Ah, eh... Dinner is in the oven like always. I made your favorite!” Nothing again. Hibiki noticed them turning on the TV and said it louder once more, maybe it was just drowning his voice out. At least he could hear some slight murmurs this time around. But he still didn't give up, putting his dirty dishes in the sink and grabbed his note book, getting to their side at the couch, not to fully block their view still. “I wrote something! Would you like to hear it?”, he asked, his parent's gazes too fixated on the flickering screen however. “Uh...”, he tried once more, “I got-” Hibiki was cut off by sudden laughter, not understanding what they found so funny playing there, but let them finish. “I got an A in English today!” Finally a reaction. Hibiki could feel pride swelling in his chest as both of them turned to face him. “Good job, Satou!”, his father said as his mom nodded congratulatory, then they turned their attention back to the show. Hibiki's once prideful feeling faded as he muttered, quiet like a whisper, holding his notebook close to this chest: “It's Hibiki...” But this isn't over, he got a determined look and stepped in front of the TV this time: “You, know, since in tw-” “Move, you're blocking the view”, his mother demanded. “Please, just listen.”, Hibiki pleaded, trying not to show that he's about to cry. They sighed annoyed, but settled back to listen. He exhaled before continuing: “I just... thought we could spend some time together, because in two days it's my birthday after all and I-” “Already?”, his mother asked, sounding surprised. “Yeah, will do. Now can we continue?”, his father bugged in, his answer not sounding sincere in the slightest, making Hibiki feel even more discouraged, but he reluctantly moved out of the view. Instead he stood besides them again, silent like them, the only voices coming from the TV as he tried composing himself. Repeating 'Don't cry' over and over in his head, despite his shoulders shaking. Knowing the outcome he tried one last time. “My bullies cornered me again.” “M-Hm.” 'Please.' “They threatened to break my arms.” "Okay." “They almost did, they could have been amputated!”, Hibiki exaggerated, trying to get at least one sight of concern, “They also took out knifes!” “That's nice, sweetie.” Enough is enough. He hung his head, bangs covering his eyes as he felt a tiny sob break out of his throat but then hurried in his room, slamming the door. * “Ha! I won!”, Cedric cheers proudly, hopping in the spot still holding the game controller. “No way! You must have used a trick, tell me!”, Silver demands playfully, huffing like a small child. Cedric responds with simply sticking out his tongue, causing his father to pull him close, ruffling his hair and tickling, making him giggle which turned into full on laughter right on. Ben sits on the couch, turning his focus onto them at the sound, his expression turning into an amused smile, seeing them this giddy together. “I want a rematch.”, Silver smirks while booping Cedric's noise, who still giggled. “Maybe!”, Cedric replied before getting doing the so called 'Puppy Eyes', “ But I'm hungry. Can I have a snack?” He wrapped his arms around his stomach, pretending like he was starving. “Cedric, you know we just had lunch, right?”, Ben said, still keeping the smile from watching the scene unfold. “We did?”, Cedric asked, confused. “Yeah and you even said you were full.” “Oh. ...Pleeaasse! Just a tiny snack!”, he pleads once more, snuggling up to Silver. Silver is clearly lost at words, knowing this is a fight he won't win that easily, even if Cedric may already be pretty spoiled from time to time. But for now he'll give in. “Okay, fine.”, Silver said, standing up still looking at his child whose face lights up. “However,”, he added, “This will be the last one for today until dinner.” Cedric immediately wants to protest, but Silver already having left made him pout and kept on sitting there on the floor. He was ready to mope around for the rest of the day, but quickly lost interest and instead turned around to Ben still lying on the couch, holding some sort of sketchbook. Curiosity overcomes him as he gets closer, trying to look. “What's Papa drawing?” Ben looks slightly shocked as he turns to him, as if he didn't expect him to ask, however smiled gently once more then and lets him climb up next to him to look. “Just some characters, nothing special.” “That one looks like Kirby!” “Yeah, he's easy.” Cedric, kept watching, snuggled close, his face barely readable whether he's truly interested or not until he gets up and moves a hand up to pat Ben's head. “Papa's a good artist!” Ben couldn't help but chuckle a little at that, putting Cedric's hand off him before pulling him closer for a hug. “Will Papa join the next round?”, Cedric asked, pointing to the console still being on. “Sure!”, he answered, nuzzling Cedric's forehead with his. Then Cedric hops off, racing towards Silver to get his desired snack. His innocent excitement seemingly bringing warmth to this once broken and cold-hearted concept called 'family'.

#drownedsilver week #drownedsilver week 2019 #fic #fanfic #lovechild #tw: abuse #tw: child abuse #creepypasta #pokepasta #gamepasta #gaming creepypasta

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lovingdelusions · 6 years

Text

Fang’s Fogarty’s Fantastic Ways to Get Sweet Pea and Y/N Back Together

Author’s Note: Oops. (Also if you want me to write more about what happened to Jughead and Archie lemme know)

Warnings: mentions of self doubt, cheating-ish, reader gets hit by Sweet Pea, sad and angsty shit ahead

Listen to this and this?

Sweet Pea fucked up pretty badly. You fucked up pretty badly. Both of you fucked things up pretty badly. You’d both said some things that you didn’t mean, but you two were too stubborn to admit your mistakes.

“Come on, Sweet Pea,” Fangs sighed, trying to get him off his couch. He hadn’t moved from that spot in seventeen hours, not counting the one time he got up to take a piss.

Sweet Pea ignored him, lying face down into the couch. He hoped it would suffocate him enough to either make him pass out or die. Tears pricked his eyes. He was still thinking about the things you said to each other.

Sweet Pea didn’t mean to hurt you. He promised he would never do that intentionally, but it just slipped. Two weeks ago, he had everything. Now, he had nothing. Well, he had the wildflower you dipped in silver and gave to him. It was the same yellow wildflower that he gave to you in the bouquet, and it was hung around his neck on a chain.

Draped across his shoulders like a blanket hung your Bulldogs letterman jacket. He hated the obnoxious yellow and blue colors, but it was the closest thing he had to you.

Sweet Pea sniffled, turning his head to bury his face into one of the sleeves. Your scent still lingered on the jacket.

On the other side of town, you weren’t doing much better. Since you two had broken up, you’d become more irritable, threatening to fight someone over every little thing, and you did.

Cuts and bruises littered your body, but you couldn’t feel it. You were past being angry, past being reckless and stupid. Now, you didn’t know what to feel. You didn’t know how to feel.

You were tired of fighting. You just wanted to rest.

Lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, you were just a shell of a man that you used to be. Sweet Pea’s jacket laid beside your head on the bed, folded neatly.

You fisted the leather between your fingers and held it to your chest, your hand over your heart. It almost felt like when he slept on your chest and you could feel his heartbeat slowdown when he was asleep.

“Psssst!” A rock was thrown at your window. You were pretty sure there was a crack in it, but you couldn’t find a reason to let your nosy, redhead neighbor in.

You clenched your eyes shut, wondering what it would be like if Sweet Pea was here. He’d never admit it, but the Serpent loved to be the little spoon. Everyone always gave him shit for being tough, but it was just a front. You knew that all he ever really wanted was to be loved. Sweet Pea wanted to be safe.

His hair would tickle your nose, but you’d only bury your face further because his hair smelled like a tropical fruit shampoo. The scent of his cologne would stick to you, and you’d pretend that you didn’t like it even though it was your favorite. His warmth would radiate and make the whole bed feel like a personal heater. He’d toss and turn throughout the night if you didn’t hold him the right way, having nightmares of what happened in his childhood. He’d feel like love and joy.

But Sweet Pea wasn’t there. And you weren’t his happiness anymore.

A bitter numbness spread through your body like frost, and all you could do was close your eyes and hope the pain went away.

You hadn’t realized someone was in your room until they hesitantly touched your forehead. Taking in a sharp breath, you flinched but kept your eyes closed.

“Y/N,” Archie said softly. You hated his voice. His I’m pitying you voice. Deep breaths were exchanged from the two of you, and that was it.

After a few minutes, you felt him get off the bed. You hoped he left.

“Where’s the guitar?” You wouldn’t move, couldn’t move. Archie slid your closet door open where you heard Sweet’s guitar being picked up. You wanted to stop him, say that was only for your sweetheart to use, that it was his birthday gift, but you didn’t. Because he wasn’t yours.

The first tears fell when Archie played a lullaby, and they kept falling. You stared at the ceiling, a sob building in your throat as your best friend played the sweet melody.

“I love you,” you sobbed. With Sweet Pea’s jacket in your grip, you sobbed your heart out. You made embarrassing sniffling noises, but who the fuck cared when you didn’t have him? “I love you.”

What did I do wrong?

The playing ceased for a mere moment but continued softly, lulling you into a bleak sleep.

————————————————————————

“Alright,” Archie said, taking long strides up to Fangs. “What the hell happened between Y/N and Sweet Pea?”

Fangs clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything.

“Really?”

Silence. Fangs shared a glance with Jughead and Toni, warning them not to say anything.

“Jughead? Please,” Archie took a step towards his best friend and boyfriend, but faltered when Jughead took a step back. They weren’t exactly on the best terms at the moment. Actually, they weren’t together.

Jughead had other things to focus on rather than spend time with his dear boyfriend, and Archie tried to accept that. He really did, but it never worked out.

Archie let out a shaky breath. “You know what? Fine. I’m sorry that I’ve been bothering you, but I’m not apologizing for being concerned over one of my best friends. You know what he was doing last night when I went to check up on him? He was sobbing, choking out ‘I love you’ over and over while hanging onto Sweet Pea’s jacket. So I’ll guess I won’t see you guys around.”

Toni and Fangs knew this was more than just what was going on between you and Sweet Pea. This was between Jughead and Archie.

“Also, I thought you cared. I really thought you guys fucking cared about Y/N, but I guess not. Snakes will always stick together.” No matter how much Fangs and Toni wanted to get angry at Archie, they couldn’t because it was true. You were supposed to be their friend too, but they’d just abandoned you.

Archie stomped off, only to fall against the lockers when he rounded the corner. He leaned his head back against the cold metal and sighed. Archie’s eyes fluttered close. He hoped this would end.

————————————————————————

“He asked about you today.” Sweet Pea looked up when Fangs entered the room. He blinked back at him. “Well, not directly but he still asked.”

Blink.

“You can’t just fucking sit here and expect me to feel sorry for you, especially when you never told me why the hell you and Y/N broke up.”

Blink. Breathe.

“Really? That’s how it’s going to be? Alright, Pea. I’m going to give it to you straight. You look pathetic, act pathetically, and smell pretty disgusting. I know you’re hurt about what happened, but it isn’t going to go away unless you do something. You don’t even have to confront Y/N if you don’t want to. For once, you could just straight up tell me what’s wrong!”

Drip. Drop. Tears slid down Sweet Pea’s cheeks. There was a reason he hadn’t told Fangs why he was single.

“I fucked it up,” Sweet Pea said. “I fucked up everything I had.”

Fangs stared at his best friend.

“He was so good to me, and I threw it all away.” Sweet Pea took a deep breath. “It started this one night when we were fighting.”

“How you could be so reckless?” Sweet Pea screamed.

“I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about,” you said, wrapping up your knuckles. You’d gotten into another fight today, the third one this week. You never told him what the fights were about, and he didn’t care. Sweet Pea only cared about your physical being. He’d been in numerous fights throughout his life, and he knew how dangerous it could be if you got in a fight with the wrong person.

Sweet Pea tanked your shoulder back. He was trying to see if you would react like he thought you would. “What? You’re not going to hit me too? Fight me like everyone else?”

Ouch. A pang went through your heart. You wished Sweet Pea cared enough to ask you why you were fighting. You wished he’d ask what was wrong because you’d never willingly tell him yourself.

You clenched your jaw and turned your head away from him. Your boyfriend gripped your shoulder tightly, releasing his grip only to bring his fist back.

Usually, you had good reflexes and would move away seconds before someone would try to hit you, but you stood there and took the punch. Sweet Pea stared at his bloody fist in shock. You should’ve ducked. You should’ve hit him back.

Blood dripped down your face, making tiny splatters on the pavement.

“I’m sorry. I thought, I-,” Sweet Pea reached for your face. “Why didn’t you move?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

You wiped away the blood from your cut cheek. Sweet Pea’s ring, the one you gave him for his birthday, slashed your skin. It only added onto the collection of wounds.

You didn’t give an answer.

He faltered, his anger disappearing into disappointment. Sweet Pea shook his head, slowly backing up until his and touched the door of his trailer. Then your love retreated outside, and you were left standing in the trailer, head down and a dull ache in your cheek.

“I hit him,” Sweet Pea whimpered. “I fucking hit him, and I ran.”

“There’s gotta be more. You punched him in the nose once, and he still dated you.”

“You’re right. That wasn’t even the worst part.”

It’d been a week since you last saw Sweet Pea, and you were going insane. Your irritation levels were off the chart, and you would start a fight with the drop of a pen.

You had to do something, or else you’d fade away.

You pulled up in Sweet Pea’s driveway, seeing another motorcycle there that wasn’t his. You thought nothing of it, figuring it was Fangs.

“Sweets, look-,” you stopped. Joaquin placed his lips on Sweet Pea’s, your, well, you didn’t know now. He was holding him so tenderly, his hand on Sweet Pea’s hip under his shirt and the other caressing his face.

“Y/N.” You were so fucking angry at Joaquin. He was supposed to be your friend, your fucking friend. “I know this sounds candid, but it’s really not what it looks like. I would never cheat on you. EVER.”

Sweet Pea’s voice cracked. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“Oh really?” you roared. “Enlighten me then, Sweet Pea. Tell me that you didn’t kiss Joaquin, that you didn’t just throw my trust away, that you’re not breaking my heart again and again! We’ve been together for two years now, but I guess that doesn’t mean anything to you if you can just throw everything we built away. I, I can’t- can’t do this.”

“Don’t run away, please,” Sweet Pea begged.

“Stop hurting me then.”

“You kissed Joaquin?” Fangs asked.

“No, it’s not like that.”

Fangs raised his eyebrow. How else could it be?

“Joaquin was the first person I’ve ever loved, and when he came around that night, he asked me if I still had feelings for him. Of course I said no, but he asked if he could kiss me to make sure. He said he’d leave me alone if I felt nothing. I felt bad, okay?”

“How the fuck did you feel bad?” Fangs asked, scrunching his face in displeasure.

“At the time, I wasn’t alright, not mentally at least. Joaquin had to leave Kevin, and he couldn’t get him back. He was lonely, Fangs, and I was stupid.” Sweet Pea sat with his head in his hands.

“Well what the fuck are you lying around here for? You love Y/N, right?” Fangs asked.

“Of course I do, but-,”

“But nothing, you dumb bitch.” Fangs rolled his eyes. “If you want him, go get him before it’s too late. Right now, he’s sobbing into your jacket at his house which he hasn’t left for three weeks. Pretty soon, the cops are gonna get called since he hasn’t been showing up for classes.”

“If I go to him, we’re just going to fight.”

“If you don’t go to him, we’re gonna fight,” Fangs snarled. He fisted Sweet Pea’s shirt and brought his face close. “A fight ain’t nothing within a lifetime of love and actually being happy for once in your shitty life.”

“Give me your keys,” Sweet Pea said after an intense staring match with Fangs.

“What?”

“Give. Me. Your. Keys.” Fangs stared at him ludicrously.

“Why the hell can’t you use your bike?”

“Because I haven’t driven mine in almost a month, Fangs. Please, dude.” Fangs sighed and begrudgingly handed his precious baby over to his best friend.

“When you’re done, give me my keys back. Jughead and I have someone to visit.”

As soon as the keys touched his hand, Sweet Pea sprinted to his bike. He quickly made his way over to your house, clambering up the steps to your front door with flowers in hand. There weren’t any flower shops open at this time of night, so he stole some from your neighbor’s yard.

Sweet Pea rapped his knuckles against the door, hoping you would open it. Silence answered. Maybe you were asleep. He knocked again.

The Serpent desperately looked around for a way into your house. He scaled the your rain gutters and tried to push the window up. Oddly enough, it was unlocked, and Sweet Pea was able to slide in easily.

“What the hell are you doing here?” a raspy voice called. Sweet Pea whirled around and faced Archie. He looked like shit, not that Sweet Pea was any better.

“I need Y/N.”

They stood in silence. Archie wiped the gathering pool of tears away with the sweater he was wearing. Whether it was Jughead’s or not was no one’s business. The ginger nibbled on his bottom lip, so none of his pained sounds would come out.

Sweet Pea’s stance softened. He needed to get to the love of his life, but one of his friends was clearly distressed. Believe it or not, the raven haired boy grew to like tolerate Archie.

“Arch.” It was a special nickname that Sweet Pea would only say if they were alone. “What happened to you?”

The Bulldog broke down and slid down the door, bringing his knees to his chest. Sweets sat next to him, putting Archie’s head onto his shoulder. The two stayed like that until Archie calmed enough to speak.

“You know, when you fuck up so badly, but you don’t even realize it? The next thing you know, the only person you’ve ever loved is fading away piece by piece.” Sweet Pea didn’t know what the ginger was on about, but in a way he did.

“Yeah.”

“He’s at the Whyte Wyrm. Go.” Sweet Pea didn’t move. “I’ll be fine for now. I’ve waited four months. Another day won’t kill me.”

Sweet Pea gave his friend a quick hug before dashing out to the bike. He arrived back in Southside Riverdale in record time.

He pushed the doors open to the bar and was met with the gaze of the bartender and a few Serpents. They seemed to understand what was going on and slinked to the back of the bar, disappearing from sight.

“Y/N.” You’d never admit it, but it felt so fucking good so hear Sweet Pea say your name again.

You gripped your drink tighter in your hand. You only had two sips of the bitter and burning liquid, but it was enough.

“Y/N.”

“Stop,” you begged. “Stop making this harder for me. If you don’t love me, please just leave.”

“I do love you,” Sweet Pea answered immediately.

“Stop making snap decisions. That’s how we go here in the first place.” You hiccuped in the middle of the sentence.

“You know what?” Sweet Pea said. He’d had enough. He’d show you how much you meant to him, how much you’d always mean to him.

“What?” You snarled, slamming your hands down on the table. You assumed the worst. Splinters dug into your hands, but you couldn’t care less. The only thought running through your head was that you were losing the most important person in your life. “Fuck! There’s nothing you could say that you haven’t already said. You’ve made it pretty fucking clear how you feel about me. There’s nothing that you could say that I haven’t already thought of.

“I love you, Sweet Pea. I really do, but you can’t do this. You can’t love me as much as I love you because I’m not good enough, Sweets. I’m not good enough for you.” You hiccuped your whole way through your speech, breathing labored.

Sweet Pea turned and walked away. Maybe you were right. Maybe he had to find someone else, so that he wouldn’t damage you any further. As he began to stalk off, your hiccups and sobs rang through the room. It made him falter. He’d hurt you enough. When would he learn?

But he was never good with listening to others.

“I can do whatever the hell I want.” He yanked you into his arms, pressing your foreheads together. “You’ve always been good enough for me. You’re everything. I don’t feel right when you’re not around. My chest aches, and my head pounds. Whenever I’m with you, though, it’s like I’m shooting fireworks. It’s like I’m diving off a cliff. It’s like. . . It’s like I understand the reason why Romeo would kill himself to be with Hamlet or however the fuck that goes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I left you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry that I kissed Joaquin. I’m sorry I hit you. I should’ve never left you, should’ve never been such a jackass. ‘m so sorry.”

You were both a sobbing mess now, crying into each other.

“I love you,” you said. You held onto Sweet Pea tightly as if he would vanish.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago.” Sweet Pea kneeled and pressed kisses to your hands. “Y/N L/N, I know we’ve been together for a while now, and I know that this is possibly the worst time to do this, but I can’t live without you, can’t think without you. I’m not me without you, and I frankly don’t know how I survived before I met you. Will you marry me?”

You burst into sobs once again, bringing his lips to yours. He was yours, and you were his once again: the dynamic duo.

EXTRA (feat. Jarchie)

After the emotional mess in the bar, you and Sweet Pea went to Pop’s to talk things out. Pop immediately noticed the ring adorning your finger and gave you two celebratory burgers on the house.

“They were makin’ fun of you, Sweets. I couldn’t let them do that.” You sat as close as possible to Sweet Pea, nuzzling him. This was where you belonged.

“It’s okay, baby. They can say whatever the fuck they want. I have everything I could ever want right here.”

Sweet Pea called Fangs and gave his keys back, and Fangs drove to Jughead’s house.

“Open up motherfucker.” Fangs banged on the door. Jughead swung the door open and glared at the other Serpent. “What the hell was that between you and Northside prince today?”

“It’s none of your fucking business.” Fangs felt like all his friends were fucking idiots, and he was the only sane and logical one.

“Listen, you edgy whore. I know it’s none of my business, but you’re miserable. You’ve been on edge for a few months now, and everybody’s sick of your shit. I’m pretty sure your angst is contagious, so man the fuck up and go get your stupid ass ginger. We clear? After that, I’ll buy you a month worth’s of burgers.”

Jughead’s hard exterior cracked, and he left to find his redhead. “Thanks, man.”

A week later when the two couples walked in Riverdale High, everyone’s heads turned. Fangs should do this for a living.

#male reader #male reader insert #lgbt #gay #fanfic #fanfiction #riverdale #riverdale x male reader #riverdale x reader #riverdale x you #riverdale sweet pea #sweet pea x male reader #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea

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