#this was a longer rant before but i started getting analytical with it and i don't have energy for articulating that

[thatrandombystander]

"Chaos' Hades 2 design is better because it's hot and having the genderqueer character be less eldritch is better representation"

Well maybe some of us genderqueers like interesting and thematic designs and identify more with eldritch monstrosities over conventional attractiveness? What about the unsettling weirdo representation for freaks like me 😔

Although holding the detached head and spine of your previous form does absolutely slap

[kassiedoodles-xo]

The Forces Of Destiny — Part III :

"Regal Reflections"

- A fanmade ninjago season-

Word Count: 1731

Warnings: none

The team relentlessly searched for answers, having looked through all the scrolls owned by their mentor, they found themselves immersed in the books held within the vast palace library. It was an ancient treasure trove of forgotten wisdom, with towering bookcases looming over them like guardians of knowledge, their shelves laden with dusty tomes and worn down scrolls, a testament to the passing of time. The scent of musky, aged parchment weighed heavily in the air as flickering sunlight performed its dance on the polished wood floors.

With each tick of the clock the team delved deeper into the twisted labyrinth of knowledge, eyes meticulously scanning the words, calloused hands delicately turning pages. The warm tendrils of golden sunlight, once streaming in through the grand windows, gradually shifted as the hours of day melted into the evening. Their hopeful endeavours slowly disappear along with the sun.

Kai, with undisguised frustration, slammed shut a particularly thick volume, the sound making Jay and Cole jump surprise beside him as it echoed throughout the wide expanse of the library.

“This is absolutely ridiculous! How much longer are we going to spend in this ancient dump!”

“Don’t forget that at least the texts in the modern language are split between us 7, poor Yuki has to read all of the texts in the ancient language” Kais younger sister, Nya, scolded. Her eyes travelled to Yuki, hunched over countless books, scrolls and documents written in the ancient language.

Lloyd let out a frustrated sigh “I'm starting to think this is getting us nowhere. Even modern texts are starting to look like ancient mumblings.”

Zane, the analytical one, furrowed his robotic eyebrows from his position opposite the table “ We must remain persistent, we need patience to fix this.” he said as his icy blue eyes scanned the bookshelves.

“I don't understand. There… There has to be a clue. A clue, a reference. There has to be something.” Yuki said, her voice sounding as if on the verge of tears, not ripping her eyes away from the words in front of her. “How can there be nothing if the problem revolves around the source of the entirety of Ninjago” she continued, her voice sounding more panicked with each word.

This is so exhausting.

Jay, thinking fast, tore Yuki’s mind away from her anxiety “What if there's another section we haven't checked yet, like a secret chamber or something?” he paced back and forth.

“Don’t try to be funny Jay! If there was another section then I would have checked it already.” Yuki snapped, her sharp gaze cutting into Jay through messy strands of pink hair.

The frustration in the air grew thicker as the moon ascended into the sky, despite the wide space of the library, everyone felt the walls of bookcases close in on them with every minute.

As the hushed whispers of ancient knowledge weighed on the team, Cole, sensing the collective fatigue, hesitantly suggested a break. “ Guys, let's take a break, we can’t go on like this if we’re over tired.”

The idea resonated fondly with all of the team, all except one member.

“You guys go ahead, I have too many things to read in this god forsaken language. I’ll -” Yuki was cut off before she was able to continue her rant.

“Yuki, I swear on the First Spinjitzu Master, I will not hesitate to drag your ass out of here and make you take a break.” Cole stated, eyes narrowed at the girl.

“I'm coming, i’m coming.” was all she could say as she joined her friends.

They staggered out of the library together, exhaustion palpable as fatigue etched itself in their faces, craving a change of scenery. The shadows seemed to play tricks on them, or so they thought.

Nya, ever vigilant, noticed the flickering in the great mirror mounted on the wall of the corridor; she noticed the smooth, glassy surface twist and turn as she brought it to the attention of others. Soon everyone saw the image of an elegant, regal, red-headed woman.

Queen Kaida, The first Queen of Ninjago.

“Maybe a break wasn’t such a bad idea after all.” Yuki chuckled dryly.

It’s okay, just breathe.

The spectre of the past observed as Morro pulled Yuki behind him, instinctively moving in front of her along with Lloyd, their protective stances conveying the message to the apparition as she raised an amused eyebrow at their determination to protect their friend. Yuki’s gaze locked with Kaida’s, determined to not let her ancestor smell her fear.

The team felt newfound protectiveness, positioning themselves, ready for action if they needed to step in. Their eyes darted around for potential danger, ready for any unseen threats.

Queen Kaida, sensing the tension on the other side of the mirror, softened her expression as she addressed Yuki affectionately. “There is no need for fear. My dearest Yuki, i have observed your efforts, i have come to give you guidance,”

The unexpected offer of assistance puzzled the ninja, they shared unsure looks between themselves.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Lloyd spoke, his weapon drawn ready to attack, cautious of the reflection.

Kaida’s reflection glowed softly in the dimly lit corridor, her calm authority spread though the space as she began to speak, her voice like a gentle melody.

“Lloyd Garmadon, you are the grandson of my dear friend. this queendom exists because he trusted me to be the first to wield all of the magic weaved into this realm. Long ago, before time had a name, the first spinjitzu master created ninjago and harnessed all of the magic into the wand. The wand you are holding now my dear Yuki. We shaped the destiny that intertwined with the very essence of magic.

The team listened intently as she spoke, her words almost hypnotising, she continued, “ Ninjago was born from a vision to unite the forces of creation and destruction. Light and dark. Good and evil. It preserves harmony in the world. I laid the foundation of magic that flows through your veins Yuki. A part of this magic flows through all of your veins as well, noble ninja.”

Her voice grew stronger, infused with wisdom “ Yuki you are a continuation of the legacy, you are the key to its preservation. Without you, there is no magic.”

A warmth spread across the corridor, Kaidas reflection grew brighter, casting a soft glow on the ninja in front of her, “The realm of magic is a canvas painted with colours of our shared history. You must not let the darkness unravel the threads, find it. And remove it. You were handed this torch, carry it forward, you must pass it on, you have been destined to be the guardian and keeper of ninjago’s magic for centuries before you were born. You are not just a part of the legacy; your greatness will shape its future.”

Kaida finished her monologue, the ninja stared at her in awe.

“But…But how can we find the answer? We have read everything we can.” Yuki said, the inspiration from the monolog wavering away as she remembered the day spent in the library

“The Royal Archive will have the answer you are searching for.” Queen Kaida responded.

“The archive?” Yuki questioned, her confusion echoing everyones thoughts.

“It is a secret well hidden indeed. The Archive has the real history of the realms, beyond what is in your books.” She reassured the girl, watching as she pushed past her friends, now standing almost at eye level.

“How does one get into these archives?” Yuki questioned her kin, her tone sceptical, yet she couldn't help but trust the woman in the mirror. Kaida simply smiled patiently.

“Head into your office, look behind the tapestry on the northern wall and you will know.” Kaida glowed brighter, before slowly fading away within the mirror; black smoke flowing behind the glass, leaving the ninja staring into their own reflections in the mirror. The corridor fell into a profound silence, Queen Kaida’s message echoing in their thoughts.

As they gazed into the pristine reflective surface, they felt their emotions shift. The burden of uncertainty lifted ever so slightly as the first queen's words guided them. They felt a renewed vigour, a new found determination.

Yet Yuki felt like a sailor in the centre of the stormy sea. She retreated to her own thoughts as the team moved to her office; the weight of destiny had been thrust upon her from a young age, she was aware of that much, yet the conundrum vexed her more than she expected despite the years of experience. She wandered the corridors of her mind as she attempted to decipher the cryptic message.

"Destiny intertwined with the essence of magic."

"Don't let the darkness unravel the threads."

"Key to preservation."

"You shape its future."

Each word held the ancient weight of destiny, a fate that spanned generations. They echoed in her mind, Yuki felt a resigned acceptance settle within her heart as she braced herself for the challenges that lay ahead of her.

I have to do this. If not me then who?

She watched her friends rush in front of her, falling behind the group, she listened to their eager chatter. In the sanctuary of her own mind, Yuki found herself to be bitter, the chaotic symphony of outrageous emotions burdened her with the weight of her predetermined role. The expectations and echoes of a legacy she had not sought as she fought with the internal conflict of being born into a role that demanded her whole soul plus more.

I hate it.

It crushed her, pressing down harder every passing day. Frustration welled up inside her, surging throughout her body like electricity. Every memory she could remember, bore the thread of resentment, a persistent reminder of the destiny she never chose. She was a mere pawn in a cosmic game, chosen for a game years before her birth, shackled to her fate forever.

She walked to her office, squeezing her glove clad hands until nails painfully dug into her skin. She sought to channel Queen Kaida’s words into a source of strength.

“You were handed this torch, carry it forward, you must pass it on, you have been destined to be the guardian and keeper of ninjago’s magic for centuries before you were born.”

No one ever considered what she truly wanted.

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♧Masterlist♧

Summary: A mysterious rift between time and magic tears the fabric of the realms. Yuki, the master of magic, the purple ninja and the queen of ninjago, must find the powerful spell to fix this. In an unexpected twist, the team is transported into the depths of Yuki's spell book. The ninja must navigate through the chapters and memories of all the queens, finding the thing that is jeprodizing peace.

In a risky race, the ninja must piece together fragments of memories to uncover the truth. Will they succeed in fixing the rift? Or will Dark secrets unravel a mystery that changes the fate of everything?

Taglist: (open)

@shatteredhope123 @stupidgayartkid @crikkit-kitterton @queenoftaslik @spinjitzu-spy

Feel free to ask to be added to the Taglist!

© This is the exclusive property of Aleksandra Niewiadomska. Do not claim as your own, repost on other sites or translate my work at all.

[captnjacksparrow]

I wish people would stop caring about the canon pairings and marriages in Naruto/Boruto because they should have absolutely no relevance for SNS shippers in terms of validating said ship. Those who say we are delusional because “Well, Naruto married Hinata so she is THE one he loves!” (I'll focus more on Naruto's marriage here... Is Sasuke's even a marriage?) simply don’t get that it just doesn't really matter who Naruto and Sasuke married because that in no way diminishes their feelings for each other. The main plot of the series revolves around the bond between Naruto and Sasuke. It is their story. They are each other's most important people and this was established back in Land of Waves arc even before the dramatic events that take place on the bridge - the whole point of that very first arc was making this a fact right from the beginning, because the story has always been and was always supposed to be about the two of them and the profound love and understanding that grows between them ever since they exchanged glances, smiles and pouts as lonely little broken kids. No reason to list all proof of their feelings and bond here, it has been done extensively, and if somebody watched the show/read the manga and missed it, they are missing half a brain. That these boys love each other more than anyone else is absolutely obvious.

So what about the canon pairings? Kishimoto stated time and time again that his focus was never romance, and that is not because he can't write romance as we know it (he clearly did), but it’s a matter of concept: what HE considers romance is the attraction that unites people with the purpose of marriage (confessing your romantic love for japanese people is the same as saying you want to be in a relationship, because feelings shouldn’t be voiced without an intention), and that, to him, is NOT the greatest expression of love, nor does it represent the most special bond two people can share.

It is understandable that westerners put so much weight into marriage because we consider it the epitome of love. Well, the truth is marriage in Japanese culture is mainly the only socially admissible means to have children and has very little to do with romantic love. In fact, in Japanese literature, it is much more common for unmarried couples to love each other than married ones. Obviously, there is no absolute truth when it comes to feelings and human relationships, what I'm doing here is generalising social norms and expectations (not exposing my opinion on them - that would turn this rant into something else entirely). A large number of Japanese marriages are loveless (and arranged, but no point getting into that either) and what motivates choosing a spouse is their ability to fulfill familial duties, meaning: is the woman good mother and consequently wife material? Is she going to devote her life to taking care of her children, house and husband, the noblest of acts for a female? Is the man willing and capable of putting his occupation above everything else, working extremely hard and for long hours, with total dedication and diligence for his job, to the point of not even seeing his family most of the time, as an honorable man should do as a provider? That's what makes a GOOD married couple: two people following their expected and strict gender-roles in a nuclear child-centered family (again, please, this is not MY opinion!). What a Japanese man should want in a woman is for her to be a dedicated housewife and mother, since having children outside of marriage is not only frowned upon, it is not acceptable at all, and not being married with children is not respectable enough (same with being divorced). Marriage is, therefore, NOT a symbol of undying love and a deep and special connection between two people, rather, it’s a partnership established with the goal of having and raising children.

Do these descriptions ring any bells?

In conclusion: the pairings were, in fact, created for the sole purpose of bringing forth the next generation, and that was made CANONICALLY true. Would it have been better if they hadn’t gone down that "safe" route? Hell, yeah! It would have been fucking amazing and could even have been groundbraking, for several reasons. BUT as unsatisfying as it may be, the fact is they chose a very TRADITIONAL depiction of marriage that has little to do with feelings, and that in itself shouldn’t be taken lightly, since it leaves the strongest bond, which is grounded on genuine love, untouched. In this scenario, justifying romantic love through marriage alone won’t cut it, and trying to discredit the obvious unmatched connection and feelings between two characters because they never got married to each other or married someone else is ludicrous. Yeah, a married couple can love each other deeply and above anyone else, but that is just not what marriage is ABOUT in Japanese culture and definitely not what Kishimoto wanted us to believe was the case here after dedicating 699 chapters to a story about the special bond between two boys that didn’t culminate in marriage. 

You know what IS a symbol of romantic love in Japan? Being willing to die together when the love you feel goes against your moral obligations, holding on to the belief that you will be reunited in the afterlife, where you will be free of any burden and able to love freely.

Are more bells being rung?! 

Oh, some bonus info: We also tend to associate sex with romantic love. Well, Japanese married couples with children rarely have sex, if at all. After a woman becomes a mother, she is no longer considered sexually desirable and becomes a mother figure to her husband as well (what happened to Hinata’s big "attributes" in Boruto? Huh). This is especially true when couples sleep in separate rooms and the mother shares a bed with her children. (Hinata co-sleeps with Himawari and we know Naruto sleeps in a separate room. Just saying.)

What's your say?

Is Sasuke's even a marriage?

Geezz!!!! LoLLLLL!!!! This sentence just made me cackle so hard for a good 5 minutes, Anon!!!!!

Hmmm.... So let's get back to your ask.

Well, I don't know how to react to this ask, Anon. Because, I don't know whether you are from Japan or you have a very close Japanese friend who might've told you all these cultural thing about marriage and relationships.

So, what I am going to do is to analyze from the facts you have provided , combine with my own cultural relevance and provide my answer. If there is any Japanese readers who are reading this, you can confirm or dispel this by sending me an ask. But again, I don't want exceptional case like, 'No, my family is different'. I want to know about the general lifestyle of a common citizen and their married life.

Having said that, this ask made me just yell at myself, 'Goshh!!!! Seriously???'

Because whatever you said, It fucking exist in my country too and is still followed by almost 70% of people in my country and I absolutely detest it. That is,

Most of the marriages here are loveless nd arranged - Check

Is the woman good mother and consequently wife material? Is she going to devote her life to taking care of her children, house and husband, the noblest of acts for a female? - Check

People following their expected and strict gender-roles in a nuclear child-centered family - Check Check

What a man should want in a woman is for her to be a dedicated housewife and mother, since having children outside of marriage is not only frowned upon, it is not acceptable at all, and not being married with children is not respectable enough (same with being divorced). - Check Check

Marriage is, therefore, NOT a symbol of undying love and a deep and special connection between two people, rather, it’s a partnership established with the goal of having and raising children. - Awww!!! A million Check.

That's why I was envious of Western people in this aspect, because they have a freedom to choose their own partner without any time constraints and when they do, their marriage can be said to be 'The Epitome of Love'.

My parents marriage is also an arranged one. And whenever they have disagreement and that leads to verbal war, they let out this words, 'I'm here with you because of my 2 daughters otherwise I would've left you long back'. So... Yeah. Here, most of the marriages are child-centered. Again, it's not just my opinion. Majority of the arranged marriage based family revolve around their child.

And I was born, a year after my parents' marriage, and If I hadn't been born, then people will question my parent's fertility factor and start to discriminate them. So, I can boldly claim that, I was not born out of Love or something. I was born because of social obligations.

But it doesn't mean, my parents don't love each other now. How should I say???? It's like a Stockholm Syndrome??!!!! Like when you stay with a person for a long time, you will eventually start to develop some feelings over the course of the time. It took them 15 years to come to a complete understanding of each other. It's the same case with many couples here.

Considering all these, Sasuke never even stayed with Sakura enough to make her understand him, So I wonder what kind of couple are they????? Weird!!!!!

In conclusion: the pairings were, in fact, created for the sole purpose of bringing forth the next generation, and that was made CANONICALLY true.

Awww!!!! Man, Seriously???? I made this claim long back in this post where I said, these women were used as a tool to bring out Next Generation Kids. My claim was based on Analytical Perspective.

And then one of the rabid SS stan reblogged my post and pulled out a hetero card stating, 'They are married and blah blahh...' when in reality, I never discussed about their sexuality in that post. That post was purely based on the number of pages each hetero couples shared with each other against the number of pages Sasuke & Naruto shared together.

Now, you have provided a cultural perspective for those shitty canon pairings.

On one side, I feel the need to smirk, because I am right.

But on the other side, I feel bad like, 'Is this how, this show must go on?? What are you trying to convey from this?'.

You know what IS a symbol of romantic love in Japan? Being willing to die together when the love you feel goes against your moral obligations, holding on to the belief that you will be reunited in the afterlife, where you will be free of any burden and able to love freely.

Hmmm.... It's interesting to know this. Anon.

This is where it differs slightly in my country.

Romantic love here is,

No matter what happens, I'll stand with you, You are just not alone. I will leave my fucking clan, parents, relatives if they don't approve you and we will start a new life somewhere.

[[Here, marriages happen mostly between their clan members. If you love a person from another clan, you will be ostracized or tortured or honour killed by your very parents. It just differs from clan to clan. I was subjected to this same problem and that's why I hate my Clan and left my parents. And this is also one of the reason why I love Itachi. Because we share similar Ideals. That is, Not to be obsessed over your clan and think beyond this restriction.

Also, here in Asian Culture if someone is willing to leave their family (when they don’t approve you) and prefer you over everything.... It means.... that's some Love beyond Comprehension. Just like how Naruto was willing to leave his Family (like Sakura and Kakashi) and like to stand with Sasuke... Just like how Naruto was willing to leave his own family and go on a long mission with Sasuke]]

So does it remind you of anything?????

It's the whole SNS dynamics starting from their childhood to VoTE2. That's why I started to ship SNS, because it represents the true love we always wish for.

Would it have been better if they hadn’t gone down that "safe" route? Hell, yeah! It would have been fucking amazing and could even have been groundbraking, for several reasons. BUT as unsatisfying as it may be, the fact is they chose a very TRADITIONAL depiction of marriage that has little to do with feelings, and that in itself shouldn’t be taken lightly, since it leaves the strongest bond, which is grounded on genuine love, untouched. In this scenario, justifying romantic love through marriage alone won’t cut it

This is very true, Anon.

I mean, they don’t even have to take a groundbreaking route. 

They should have given everyone an open ending, just like Kishi left at chapter 699. What is the need of a marriage, if Naruto is going to adopt Kawaki??? If Orochimaru was going to create a Baby Artificially?? If Rock Lee is going to have a child out of nowhere???

But I am happy that SNS bond is the only one that wasn’t diminished in this hot mess called Burrito. So, atleast we should be happy about that.

When someone pulls the marriage card, I just block them immediately because they are not even worth having a good conversation. NH will pull out the Last movie and SS will pull out, ‘Sasuke called Sakura ‘My Wife’.... So, it’s just pointless.

So, to conclude

Considering my Analytical perspective, I already made earlier in other post and your ask which provides some insight about Japanese culture which eerily resembles the culture I belong to, It all makes sense that this whole pairings and trash is just for the sake of bringing out Next Generation series and those boys never loved those girls whole heartedly. And I agree with you on this.

[qslovebot]

Heroes: Spencer Reid

Request: cooould i request a spencer reid x reader where the reader and Spencer are on a car ride? it could be that they are on a case and they have to drive (maybe the jet is broken? or something idk) and it's sunset, they spill feelings and so much fluff? 'With Heroes by David Bowie'

rb: @ellyhotchner

Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Warnings/Includes: mentions of Spencer's gunshot wound, kissing, fluff.

Spencer Reid chuckled as he crutched toward the SUV parked in the lot. He was a little too fast on crutches for a man who had been shot in the leg. It was a little while since he'd been let back to work and he stupidly lied about being allowed to travel so now, the way for lesser trouble was to have him drive back with another agent and Hotch assigned the dreadful task to you. "Could I at least drive?"

You shook your head as you caught up, "Flex your foot, Reid." He paused, putting his foot out and flexing it. With an immediate intake of breath and wince of pain, you shook your head again. "I will drive."

"Fine," he sighed, tossing you the keys. He paused again sheepishly at his door. "W-would you mind helping me into the car?"

"Yeah, of course, I'm sorry-" you pressed the unlock button and walked to the other side of the car with haste, taking Spencer's crutches and standing still so he could use your arm to stabilize him as he climbed in.

His thin fingers lingered on your upper arm for a second and he blinked a few times before looking up at you through his hair. "Can I choose the music?" He asked it as if it was the most serious question in the world. But he knew what was coming,

"Hell no!" You bat his hands away and darted to the other side whilst Spencer tried to beat you to the radio. He was already in the car, so of course, he beat you to it, but you jumped into the driver's seat and bat his hands away again. "Damn it, Spencer. I won't sit through another four-hour drive of nothing but Simon and Garfunkel!"

"I don't want Simon and Garfunkel!" He protested, his eyes wide. You couldn't stare him down without your heart racing, so you waved your hand in dismissal, starting the car as he fidgeted with the sound system.

Pulling out of the dank, dark of the precinct parking lot, both of you had to shield your eyes from the sun. Staying inside an interrogation room all day, you two were hardly aware it was even day. You checked the car's clock- it was nearing six o'clock.

Late spring, the days were getting longer. Shielding your eyes with the visor, you pulled onto the road. Spencer clicked a button and music began to play. You looked at him, mock-anger in your eyes and hit him in the shoulder, "This is Simon and Garfunkel!"

"Be nice, I was shot!" His voice climbed in pitch. Your hand shot forward and Spencer was faster, so he caught your hand before you could even touch the radio. His hand was cold as ice and his palms were soft. Spencer wouldn't hurt you, so the most he could do would be to stop you from acting. Your heart skipped a beat and the car swerved the slightest bit. His voice was higher now, "Eyes on the road!"

He was lucky he was so gorgeous, it saved him from a lot, but you'd never tell him that. He'd probably use it to his advantage and you had never been good with romantic feelings, so it was best you treated him with... friendly hatred. There was a thin line between working well together and working too well together so you used your friendly hatred to try and hide from the team... maybe a little... well, they're all profilers- it was for peace of mind.

So you let him have his Simon and Garfunkel, but only until you made it to the highway and you moved fast enough to get to the radio.

"-Playing you the top 80s hits all day, every day," the radioman said before the song kicked in. You laughed at Spencer who looked like he just entered hell.

"We grew up in the 80s, don't tell me you don't like 80s music!" You gasped, turning your head back to the road. "Spencer..."

"Actually, studies say the music you listened to in high school is the music you're supposed to like for the rest of your life, meaning for us two, the mid to late nineties."

You nodded, then glanced over again, "But didn't you graduate high school at twelve, boy genius? That would be... 1993?" You recounted his years at school and then your own shortened experiences.

Spencer shook his head, "It's-it's the time period of a typical person's high school years. From when we were... uh- fourteen to about seventeen for us, even with accelerated minds. I listened to Simon and Garfunkel and you were... stuck in the 80s?"

"Probably," you laughed, turning up the music as you continued down the freeway. The sun continued to shine, going from soft natural light and eventually sliding into a deeper shade of orange.

It had already been an hour and a half on the road and you had your hand out the SUV window while the sweet wind blew the left edge of your hair in boundless spirals. Spencer had just finished a long, educational rant about the production of record disks, which you already knew about, but listened anyway. You loved how excited he got to tell you things, his hands flailing about, gesturing to demonstrate ideas and thoughts.

Looking over, he seemed to enjoy feeling the air on his skin and wind in his hair. So you decided to drive onto one of the side roads, surrounded by dusty hills and rising dunes for twenty minutes more, letting him relax without worrying about his head being taken off by a semi. He deserved it, after all, he risked things to come out here.

It was finally your turn to put on the radio and you caught the radioman doing his little talking blurb, this time discussing the topic of summer cottages before the song kicked in.

Heroes by David Bowie. You gasped, "Oh my god, I haven't heard this in ages!" Spencer looked over and smiled a little, ruffling his hair. You didn't notice that smile of his, you were busy going absolutely ballistic over this song that meant so much to you. The song always made you feel oddly limitless and free. You didn't regard his constant admiration for you in the moments when you weren't looking.

You had turned up the music and let your hand out the window do the dancing you couldn't in the car. This song was powerful, beautiful, and your focus was balanced between music and road, not on Spencer, who seemed to be sinking into the beauty of the song as well as the beauty of you.

He always admired your liveliness. You brought out the less analytical, fun, youthful side to him and he really did need that sometimes. Watching you drive, hair blowing, he remembered the lyrics to the song. They may have been locked up in his mind somewhere, but he knew them and watching you enjoy the music so freely, he tapped the window's edge and mumbled along.

You didn't really care about much in those moments, because when you looked over and saw Spencer knew the lyrics, something about that made your heart flutter. The music, the lighting, him. You.

The view out the window was magnificent. Red sand, a dipping ravine and you were overtop of it all. Everything about these moments continued to get better, so you decided to pull over. Just for a minute.

"What are you-" Spencer started, but looking out the window he saw just what you did. You put the car into park, but kept it on, turning up the radio and hopping out. Spencer was able to get out of the car himself and crutched over to where you stood against the SUV door.

♬ We could be heroes, just for one day ♬

Oh, it was so gorgeous you could stay here forever and not need anything else, ever. That was until you turned to Spencer, admiring how he looked on this abandoned roadway, standing in the golden light, shadows cast perfectly over his face. You smiled up at him, time seemingly slowing for all of this to happen. It was an odd notion that the world continued to move when it was just you, him, and David Bowie blasting loudly on the radio.

He was thinking the same thing as he watched the way you shut your eyes for a moment, taking it all in. You didn't want to shut your eyes in fear maybe all of this would disappear. The dream-like lighting and Spencer, looking as if he was sculpted by the most talented artists, just seemed too perfect to really exist there with you.

But you needed to pull it together just for a moment, just to make it seem like you were still there with him, because if you stared too long, maybe you would accidentally fall into said dream.

"Not many views like these in Quantico," you turned to face him and he looked down at you before turning to face you as well. His hands were on his crutches but they looked like they begged to be in his pockets so he could rock on his heels. "It's so beautiful."

"You'r-" he coughed and cleared his throat, brows furrowing as his head turned back to off the ravine. Was he about to- no, you were kidding yourself? There was no way, it was the Bowie. "It is beautiful. E-especially with the lighting."

You nodded, "Mhm. I didn't know you knew any Bowie."

"It was actually Bowie's 12th studio album, released on October 14th, 1977, the only album in the Berlin Trilogy that was actually recorded in Berlin. I... read and listened." He scrunched his nose, probably afraid you wouldn't like him ranting, but you always listened.

You cringed, "I may have already known that."

"Oh, sorr-" he cut himself off when you smiled at him. There was something about this song that made him want to tell you everything he'd ever thought about you from the moment you'd met. Something about the lighting that made you so much more enticing and entirely beautiful. Of course, he already thought you were the most gorgeous person in the world, but right now, you were glowing.

And you were thinking the exact same thing. He was standing less than two feet from you, looking down at you. Tall, beautiful, glowing. He was silent, as were you, but Bowie sang loudly to cover the sound of both of your beating hearts. Your smile faded, but it showed in your eyes.

Spencer looked at his feet while the song took over and he tucked your hair behind your ear without hesitating. You bit the inside of your cheek as he reverted back to where he stood, his straight-lipped smile kind and genuine. His eyelashes fluttered from your eyes to your lips and he was standing there. The feelings were unspoken, but all the same, mutually understood.

So you went to kiss him. It was all you could do and it was all he was wanting, but there was a shooting pain that shot up his leg like fire as he took the step forward, pulled by your hand on his shirt.

"Shit! Ow- my... hm... my leg-" He hissed in pain and you immediately let go. So much for that buildup. You would have kicked yourself mentally if it didn't already look like Spencer had been kicked by ten muscular men on leg day.

You covered your mouth with one hand and gripped his elbow with the other, "Spencer, I am so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking- all of it completely slipped my mind and I am... God, I'm so sorry, can I help?" You launched into random rambling, your heart racing.

Spencer reached up to your shoulder for stability and his head bowed to rest on your other shoulder for a half-second. You let him stabilize himself because he was in pain, but that wasn't his intent. Not a tick more later, his hand moved an inch up higher on your shoulder, then moved to the place between neck and shoulder. His hand continued travelling upward until it was on your cheek.

Taking you much by surprise, as you thought you caused him more pain than he was really in, he pressed his lips to yours as the last chorus hit. He finished what you had failed to properly start and there was no longer any more shame in that mess. His right crutch clattered to the ground and he didn't seem to care at all. His hands held your face firmly as your hand went right back to clutching his shirt, keeping him close as you kissed him back with the same passion.

Golden light, David Bowie, a gorgeous view, an abandoned road, and each other. You may have pinched yourself to check if maybe this was a dream, but it wasn't. Spencer wouldn't stop laughing when the kiss ended- that breathy, happy laugh you always admired. You weren't sure why until he held out his wrist to show you that he had pinched himself as well and you both burst out laughing a little harder than you should have. If this was how the world ended, you would end it in the best possible way, entirely content. But this was far from the end of anything, in fact, it was only the beginning of a whole lot of BAU teasing once they got a hold of the happenings of this road trip.

You gave Spencer a knowing look, scrunching your nose and he was thinking the same thing again.

"Maybe we'll lie to them for a bit?" You suggested, cringing again with a slight smile.

He nodded comprehensively, fighting a returning smile. "Keep this as far from Derek Morgan's hands as possible." He tucked your hair behind your ear again and finally grinned at you before picking up his crutch and letting you help him back into the SUV.

He got to the radio before you did and you gasped in near disbelief. "Spencer, no Simon and Garfunkel!"

Request Here

Tags: @mercy-burning, @laurakirsten0502, @softhairedhotch

[cuddlesslut]

Part Six: Promises

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x fem reader, Hinata x fem reader

A/N: Soooo at long last the reunion! So many emotions! I’m so stuck on who to root for!

Warnings: Angst, some fluff, slightly suggestive content

Part Five: Friends

Part Seven: Regrets

You eyes opened to the sun peering through the curtain shining straight right into your face. You moved your hands to block the sun easeing the strain it caused on your eyes. You were groggy, and you back felt stiff. This definitely wasn’t your bed. You surveyed the area finally remembering, that’s right I’m at Suna’s house. You let out a yawn wiping the sleep from your eyes. That when you felt him move next to you. Yesterday the boys had come back from their loss at nationals. While they made the trip back you spent the whole day getting everything ready for your boyfriend’s return. You wanted to make him feel better so you went to the market that morning and spent your day making homemade sashimi with Fatty Tuna and some Onigiri with the left overs for you ,Tsumu and his twin. Although when he finally arrived home and saw you sitting on his door step he wasn’t very receptive.

“Hey there baby,” you gave him a quiet smile, you know he can’t be feeling to hot right now. You ignored the hurt you felt when he rolled his eyes at you.

“What are you doing here YN?” He sighed there was a slight annoyance to his tone. Again you brushed it to the side.

“I wanted to come be here for you, oh and I brought some food for you and Samu,” you presented the bag containing all of the goodies you had made for them.

Osamu’s eyes lit up at the word food quickly grabbing the bag out your hands “ohhh hell yeah I’m starving, mmmh thanks YN,” he said trying to stuff an Onigiri in his mouth before entering the Miya household. You laughed at his antics before turning your attention back to your boyfriend.

Atsumu stood there in front of you with a look of exhaustion etched on his face. “I was thinking maybe we could spend the evening together, maybe watch a movie, or just cuddle or really whatever you want,” you explained not sure what would be the best in this situation you weren’t used to having to comfort him after a loss.

He frowned “what I want is to be left alone I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now.”

You scoffed “ deal with me!” You questioned back suprised by his attitude.

“Yeah YN I really dont feel like putting up with your clinginess right now it’s annoying,” he huffed.

Your jaw dropped he had never spoke to you that way before. “Wow Okay Atsumu, I knew you were gunna be upset but that doesn’t mean you get to be a dick to me! Enjoy the food I’m going to leave it’s obvious I’m not wanted here,” you stated not standing to be talked like that.

You didn’t stick around to hear his response, you both needed to calm down at this point. You made your way down the street still fuming and ranting in your head “how dare he!” You thought! Ughhh you needed to calm down. You already knew the destination you were heading for. You had planned to save some of the snacks you had made and bring some home to Suna on your way home tonight. But now all the food was with Atsumu. You could feel your stomach growl. You let out a frustrated sigh stuspid Tsumu that was you meal too. You decide to stop at convenience store loading up on all of yours and the middle blockers favorite snacks.

And that’s how you ended up where you are now. Laying down on his couch covered in his comforter with your best friends face snuggled up into your stomach. You giggled he looked adorable. Part of you really wanted snap a photo for proof. Suna was never the most affectionate when it came to anyone really, so to see him holding your waist close was so sweet. He looked so peaceful. You were so thankful for him. When you showed up at his door yesterday you were supposed to cheer him up but it seems it was more likely the other way around. Lost in thought you start running your fingers through his hair as he laid sleeping on your abdomen. He was always there for you and always put your feeling into account with anything you did together. He paid attention to the little details ,like how he had remembered yesterday that milk bread was your favorite, but he did that all the time always so analytical with everything. So you don’t think to much of it. It’s hard to stop yourself and if anyone EVER asked you , you would lie. But for a moment you imagined what it would be like if you were dating the withdrawn boy. You were quick to dismiss that idea though. It was wrong you love Atsumu you knew that and plus he was you best friend. Hell he was one of your boyfriends closest friends. Your smile dropped a little thinking about the setter. That’s right your boyfriend, that is if that what he still was. You weren’t mad anymore a little hurt yes but all the anger had disapatted. You understood he wasn’t in the best place and you weren’t going to let one fight break you up. But you couldn’t speak for him. Were you really that clingy? Did you annoy him that much? Did he still want to be with you? These intrusive thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of your phone. Huh speak of the devil.

Tsumu 💕 : hey babe.

Tsumu 💕: I know ur probably pissed u should be.

Tsumu 💕 : I’m so so sorry for being an ass yesterday. I was just so mad at myself for not doing enough at the match, but that doesn’t matter it was no excuse for how I treated you. I get it if you don’t want to deal with me anymore but I just want you to know you're not annoying I didn’t mean any of the shit I said I was just angry and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I promise it’ll never happen again please give me another chance I love you YN 🥺💕

You let out a sigh of relief. Looking back down at the boy laying next to you. He really was quite handsome, and so caring. He's going to make someone so happy one day.

You’re not sure what brought that memory into your head at this moment but you push it to the side as Suna approached you. He looked like a man on a mission weaving threw the bar patrons. It was like if he didn’t reach you in time you’d disappear. You found your heart beating faster as we neared you. Soon enough he was standing in front of you with a look of disbelief etched on his normally stoic face.

You were nervous what should you say. What if he’s angry with you. You didn’t get much time to worry because as soon as the middle blocker confirmed you weren't a figment of his imagination he pulled you into his chest. His arms wrapping around you securely. You quickly melt into his embrace a sense of familiarity swarming over you.

“Where the hell have you been dumbass,” he choked out before quickly pulling his emotions back in. You laughed into his chest at his nickname for you.

“Sorry Suna I just had to leave I couldn’t be around him anymore,” you choked out. You removed yourself from his grasp moving back to your seat at the bar. You motioned for him to join you. You took a large gulp needing to calm your nerves.

“Look don’t apologize, you were going through a lot , hell I don’t know how I would react if I found out the person I loved was cheating on me for two years, I might committed murder,” he lets out a nervous laugh. Your brain freezes two years.... two years your mind just keeps repeating like it just can’t possibly process that information. You face drops, you turn to the bartender “ another shot of tequila please, uh make that a double,” lord knows you need it.

Suna looks at you eyes wide you had never been much of a drinker before ,at least not hard liquor, the most you ever drank were a glass or two of wine. So to see you finish off your mixed drink then proceed to down a double shot of tequila was a sight.

Your mind was swimming. As you paid out the bartender leaving a nice tip for the speedy service your mind ran in circles around the new information. You knew he had cheated on you for the eight months with Yuki and part of you figured it wasn’t the first time but TWO DAMN YEARS! You want to scream and break something like he couldn’t betray you anymore then Suna has to go tell you it was for hell of a lot longer than you had figured. You froze you brain caught on to one detail. Suna knew it was for two years and you didn’t. Did he know the whole damn time! Your brain couldn’t think rationally. You need to get out of here. It was to much the music was too loud, the place was to crowded, you felt like you couldn’t breath. You gave him a look of disgust before turning and walking away ready to leave this place.

Suna was shocked all of the sudden you looked at him your face full of pain. Before he could realize what was happening you were slipping through the crowd. Oh no he panics he just found you he couldn't let you slip away that easy. He wanted to know why you dropped him. He needed to know if he meant that little to you. So he started running after you calling your name. Luck was on his side tonight. Although you had been able to make it out the club and partially down the block he was able to catch you.

“YN wait , where are you going,” he asked desperately reaching for your wrist to stop you. You snatched your arm away from him angry.

“I’m going home Suna leave me alone,” you shout over you shoulder heading towards your apartment luckily it wasn’t too far. Although you could feel the alcohol start to settle in you knew you could still navigate your way home.

“ stop YN talk to me,” you ignored him and kept walking he let out a groan of frustration and started following you. It not like he had just downed two shots but he had plenty of drinks before he had found you. He was not expecting to have to go for a walk.

You look over your shoulder noticing he was following you. “Ughh leave me alone Suna,” you yell back to him, “stop following me!”

“Too bad I am walking with you till get home, I just watched you put back a lot of alcohol I know you can’t be sober so there is no way I’m letting you go by yourself! I’m walking with you I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” You sighed knowing there was no changing his mind. You looked forward continuing your trek home.

After that last outburst the rest of the walk was silent. Your mind was clouded. You wanted to cry so badly how could Suna act like he cared about you if he helped hide Atsumus betrayal from you. Maybe you were right maybe the friendship was a lie, maybe the connection was one sided. You could feel a swell of emotions in your chest. You denied it for long but you missed Suna. You missed your late night calls, you missed getting coffee , you missed forcing him to watch the newest episode of whatever anime you were watching, you missed hearing all about his games and being one of his number one fans, you missed sending memes, but most of all you missed how much he always seemed to be there when you needed him. But what if that was all just an act. What if ir was just a distraction from all the lies in your life. Before you knew it you were standing at you front door. You could feel his presence behind you unmoving.

“Goodbye Suna,” you huffed opening your door.

“STOP! YN please!” His voice broke. “Please don’t shut me out again! Talk to me!” You refused look back but if you did you’d see tears welling in his eyes holding on with all might trying not to spill over his heated cheeks. You looked at the entrance of your home every fiber in your body screaming at you to comfort him to reach out and hold him close, but you were so scared. So afraid to learn the truth.

“If our friendship ever meant anything to you please talk to me.” He voice so quiet like he was terrified of your response. You moved forward opening the door and stepping through the threshold. You could hear his sharp intake of air you could feel the pain radiating from him. You turned to him seeing Suna broken in a way you had never seen before. Not when he lost nationals, not when he lost his pet, not with any of his break ups. Your heart shattered at the sight. You looked into his eyes before opening you door wider for him to enter. You could see the relief rack through his body. Slowly as though he was unsure you’d change your mind at the last minute he stepped into your apartment. He tentatively took off his shoes before looking around your home studying every detail. You walk past him taking a seat on your couch you look down at the ground in front of you. You can feel the couch seat next to you shift under his weight his long legs entering your vision as you kept from looking up. You both sat in an uncomfortable silence both unsure were to start.

“So this is we’re you been all this time,” he let out a small laugh at the irony, “all that time I spent looking for you and here you were less then ten minutes away from me.”

Your face scrunched “ why would you look for me,” you asked letting your insecurities get the best of you.

He looked at you like you had just asked him if the sky was blue because to him that had to be stupidest question he had ever heard. You shifted uncomfortably under his stare you body now facing him. You head throbbing from the cluster of emotions and from the alcohol coursing throughout your body. You were sorta thankful for your inebriated state. You doubted you’d have the small amount of courage you have now with out it. Your attention turned back to the male sitting beside you.

“Because I care about you dumbass.”

“Oh really! Yeah it sure seemed like that! Two years he cheated on me for TWO YEARS!,” you started to feel heated the walls you had built around your emotions bursting at the seems. “ that’s news to me although at this point I’m not all that surprised, but still I was only aware that he had been cheating on me for eight months! So I just find it strange that you know it was for two years! Tell me Suna did you know the whole time and just let me sit there ignorant to his betrayal! I know you are his friend and that you’ve known him longer but still I thought our friendship meant something!” You aren’t sure when it started but tears were spilling down your cheeks. You looked into his eyes and saw pain. He was hurt that you thought he’d ever choose anyone over you.

He takes a deep breath steadying himself “I’m going to explain everything and I need you to please just listen to me,” he sighs looking to you for your response. You gave a small nod . He let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He rubs his hands over his face trying his best to calm his nerves.

“It was two weeks after your birthday,” he begins. “You weren’t answering your phone, it was so unusual for you to ignore me for that long no matter how busy you were you’d always call me and check up, so when I got no response I got scared you were angry with me ,so when I was meeting up with Osamu and he said he hadn’t heard from you either and that Atsumu wasn’t answering his phone neither we decided to stop by.” His face twitched with aggravation. “You can imagine our surprise to find the place a mess and Atsumu just sitting there in self pity. It became apparent that you weren’t there. When he said you left him Samu and I were shocked there was no way you’d just leave so we both knew something had to happen.” You could see Suna’s jaw clench and fist ball up grabbing at his pants. “When he finally broke and told us he cheated on you and you had caught him he came clean about the two years. I couldn’t hear anymore of his bullshit so I punched him and left.” Your eyes went wide. He punched him. “Osamu had to come outside and calm me down, I was so worried no one knew where you were and that ass was just sitting there feeling bad for himself!” He seethed. You placed your hand on his arm trying to calm him. It must have done the trick. He took a deep breath before looking straight into your eyes. “I honestly thought you knew how long, I didn’t know I promise you that,” he picked up your free hand holding it in his. “You should know I’d never choose him or anyone for that matter over you.”

Your heart felt like it stopped in that moment. “Why would you say that,” you asked breathless.

He let out a chuckle he brought his hand up to caress your face. You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing your cheek firmly into his palm. You heart started to quicken. There was a look in the middle blockers eyes that you had never noticed before although it looked so familiar like this was how he always looked at you and you were just to blind to notice. “I thought it would have been obvious by now,” you didn’t notice how close you had both become. His face was merely an inch or two away from yours. His eyes glanced down to your lips, you copy the motion. You can feel your cheeks heat. “ I’m in love with you,” he states his breath hiting you face. Before you knew it his lips were connected to yours.

You didn’t pull back enjoying the feeling of his lips. He snaked his hand behind your head holding the back of your neck securely. The kiss was slow but so full of passion. You felt a light lick of his tongue as he requested to deepen the kiss. You gladly obliged opening your mouth to his exploration. You snaked your hands into his hair adjusting your body to his. Slowly he leaned you back on the couch capturing you underneath him. He slid he’s free hand down grabbing ahold of your hip as your tongue danced together sensually. He gave a light squeez to your hip. Your lips disconnected as your head fell back while you let out a soft moan. He seized this opportunity to place delicate kisses under your jaw and down your neck before latching on to your neck. You legs spread allowing him closer access to you. The hand at you hip gently crept up your shirt before giving a tender clutch to your breast.

“Suna!” You mewled.

He gave a soft nip at your neck “say my name love,” he requested his voice heavy with want. He tweaked your nipple through the fabric of your bra.

“Ahh Rintarou,” you moaned. Your fingers gripping at the black strands of his hair your back arching up into his touch.

You could feel him smile into your neck. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of hearing that,” he recapture your lips into a searing kiss as he rolled his hips into yours bringing another whimper forth. You were lost in the feeling of his presence. It was so calming and warm. You felt so comfortable in his arms like this was something you had done a thousand times. Your want for oxygen is sacrificed for the feeling of him pressed into your body. This was different than anything else. It was like he was trying to pour all of his love into this moment. Everything moving slowly as though he wanted to take his time with you. Nothing was hurried or fueled by lust. It was so unlike anything you experienced with Atsumu, or with .....

“Stop,” you breathed disconnecting your lips sitting up trying to create some distance between your bodies. He moved back worried. Cautious of his next move not wanting to scare you away.

“I’m sorry did I hurt you? did I move to fast? I’m sorry YN,” he stammered out.

“Shh Rin, it’s okay you didn’t do anything wrong it’s me,” he gave a small smile loving hearing you call him by his given name. That smile was quickly replaced with a questioning look.

You calmed yourself trying to figure out how to explain your situation. “Rin I can’t do this right now it’s not okay.... there’s someone,” his face dropped.

“Your dating someone,” you could see the fear on his face.

“Well no we’re not dating... it complicated.”

He could start to figure out what you were referring to, he’s not naive. But still he wanted to allow you to explain it.

“Ah this is kind of embarrassing ugh,” you hid your face in your hands.

“It’s okay YN you can tell me anything,” he looked at you reassuring, he needed to know the truth about the situation. He could only hope it wasn’t to serious.

“Well ,” you took a deep breath “ there’s this guy, he’s my friend,” you add “ he and I are uhh well we sleep together, it’s been going on for two months now,” you search his face for any judgment yet you find none. You continue “ I just don’t feel right continuing with what we were doing.”

He shook his head while he searched for his next words. “So you aren’t dating but you don’t feel right being with someone else,” he questions.

“I won’t lie to Rin it’s complicated, I’m fairly certain I was falling for him, but there’s just so much going on and now this with you it’s a lot.” You give him a small smile. “I’m not sure we’re my head is at. I don’t want to make any mistakes that could ruin everything with you and how we move forward, I also have a lot to think about.”

“I understand that but I hope you understand why I’m hesitant, I’m afraid you’ll drop me again and you’ll be gone from me again,” he looked up at you. “I need to know YN, please tell me why did you cut me out of your life?”

You sighed grabbing his hands holding then tightly in your own. “Rin it was so hard, when he betrayed me it felt as though I’d lost the place I called home, like everything I knew was a lie, it terrified me at the idea that everything was a lie, even us, I don’t think I’d survived if I found out that what we have was nothing. So it was easier to push you and everyone else away, I was scared. I also couldn’t stand the idea of Atsumu being in any part of my life, and I still don’t that’s why I’m still so nervous letting you back in, I’m still not ready to face him.”

“I would cut him completely out of my life for you YN, anything you ask and I do it! You could ask for the moon and I’d find a way.” A soft giggle left your lips at his proclamation.

“I could never ask that of you, that’d include Osamu and he’s your closest friend, I couldn’t do that. And I’m not asking you to cut anyone out.... I just need some time,please understand that. These feeling I have for you are so strong but I want to sort them out before we move forward.” You looked him directly in the eyes. “I promise you Rin I will not drop you again, I don’t want you out of my life.” He nodded.

“Okay, I understand and I’ll give you time, but you have to give me your new number,” he smiled at you. You laughed smiling up at him. God how he missed that smile. You traded numbers, before you walked him to the door.

“Goodnight Rin,” you smiled.

“Goodnight love,” he replied leaning down stealing one more kiss. You looked up at him surprised. “What I promised I’d give you time, I never said I wasn’t going to prove to you in that time just how much I love you,” he grinned that sly smile before slipping out your door. Just like earlier that day you slid down your door sitting on the floor letiting out a sigh, except now you had a multitude of new problems. But right now all you could think of was sleep. You were exhausted.

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[eclipsedpascal]

Fucking your stress away

Duncan Shepherd x female reader

You surprised a stressed out duncan when you stopped by his office for lunch, but there was a different type of hunger you needed to satisfy.

Warnings: daddy kink, degrading, mocking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, cockwarming, slightly public sex (they’re in an office) anddd sex being overheard by others.

hi!! i have another duncan fic i’ve been working on that’s like 8k long so far, but I’ve not been able to add anything new to it for the past week without criticising myself too much:/ meaning the random burst of inspiration i received last night was directed into this quick thing instead:)

word count: 2k

••••••••

The soft clicking of Duncan’s finger tips tapping across his computer keyboard filled the silence of his spacious office. You were sat, skirt pulled up over your hips as you perched on his lap with his cock seated deep inside of your cunt.

You had visited him for lunch, wanting to surprise him at work. You hoped it might ease some of the stress he had been under the past few weeks.

Just last night, the two of you had spent hours lying in bed together, limbs tangled and intwined whilst he ranted onto you about how tedious his time at the office had become recently. With his uncle bill constantly nagging on and on about how he thought their app would be best utilised, he had been under a lot of pressure.

You knew Duncan loved his work, but sometimes he simply refused to let himself rest, telling himself he just couldn't until his work was completed. So here you were, making sure he received a much needed break.

“Ah ah, no fidgeting, sweetheart.” He mindlessly grazed his hand over your thigh, reminding you of his previous requests whilst reading what you assumed to be an email.

Of course, it had been his idea for you to cockwarm him, it not being the first thought of yours when considering how to best help him relax. But you definitely weren’t going to complain.

When he first suggested it, you had been sitting in his lap with your legs dangling over his own, the both of you conversing about how your day had gone so far as you ate lunch together. But with the way he kept looking into your eyes and stroking his fingers through your hair so sensually, you just couldn't help but wiggle and grind your ass down onto his crotch a little, hoping he might give you something more.

No matter how long the two of you had been together, Duncan had always seemed to know exactly which buttons he had to press for you to melt in his hands, which made convincing you to do this far easer on his part.

He told you if you just sat on his cock, stayed motionless and silent until he had finished going through the emails he had received before midday, he would give you that something more that you were wanting.

So you had been sat here for what felt like hours now, through realistically, it was probably only about 20 minutes, going unsatisfied for so long was dragging every second out into an eternity. I mean you didn’t mind too much, knowing this was what he needed right now; but still, even the slightest bit of movement from him would have been appreciated.

“Mhhm but Dunnnc! You said you wouldn’t be too long!” you pouted, throwing your head back against his shoulder in a strop, your breathe tickling his stubbled cheek as you whined to him.

“I still have a few more emails to reply to yet Y/N, be patient.” His indifference and calmness almost annoyed you, not really understanding how he could possibly control himself this well within your current shared predicament.

“Fine.” you sighed, resting your forehead against the side of his face so you could wait for him to finish a little more comfortably.

You watched as he wrote out each email, secretly admiring how dedicated he was to his work even when it was causing him so much distress.

You could see him thinking, his lips all scrunched up like a rosebud, they always did that when he was concentrated. You adored it.

“Fucking Bill, he can never just make things easy.” He murmured to himself, massaging his forehead and shifting slightly in his seat, the fiction of it causing a small mewl to fall from your lips.

He chuckled. “Quiet, little one.”

“Mm sorry, daddy. You’re just taking so long and I really reallyyy want you.” You rolled your hips as you spoke, feeling his shaft pressing up into cervix even more that before, and sent him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

You couldn’t wait for him any longer, this need fuelled haze had taken over your mind completely.

A low growl sounded from deep in his chest as he grabbed onto your hips, turning his head to shoot daggers into your eyes from his own. “All I asked was that you be patient, Y/N. But you can't even do that, can you?” He lifted your hips up before slamming them back down onto his own.

“Ahhh!-” Digging your nails into the edge of his desk as to steady yourself, you bite down onto your lip, not wanting Duncan’s receptionist to hear anything of what the two of you were up to.

“Well I suppose you have been waiting for 30 minutes now, maybe i’m being unfair on you.” He quietly questioned himself, his hands sliding up to play with the dip of your waist.

“Please, Duncan. Please” You begged him now, coaxing him to fuck you like he had promised.

Taking a hold of your hair, he pulled your head to the side and began to kiss and suckle on the exposed skin of your neck. He thrust up into you again, letting a strangled moan escape his throat.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Duncan had been struggling to keep himself composed just as much as you had. Picturing how beautifully fucked out you would look pressed up against his desk with his cock slamming in and out of you wasn't an easy thought for him to dismiss.

“You know, I do love it when you beg, sweetheart.” He lifted you up again, pushing you forward just enough that he could begin his assault on your cunt.

“Fuck!” He thrusted himself into you, drawing back slowly and watching his thick cock slip out of your folds almost completely, before forcing it back in and setting his rocky pace.

You couldn't hold in your moans, too caught up in the stream of pleasure gushing onto you to stop yourself from screaming. He pulled the chair out slightly, your arms becoming outstretched as to not let yourself loose the balance you had on his desk whilst staying firmly on his lap.

Every hit against your cervix made you cry out, the tears brimming in your eyes threatening to spill with every movement he made.

The two of you did this all the time. Fucking in his office. But usually it would consist of you lazily riding him, your sweaty body bouncing on top of his own and your lips caressing each others as you breathed one another in, but this? This was something else entirely.

All of the stress that had amounted from having to run gardener analytics with his family’s constant nagging the past few weeks, was now being channeled into railing you. Your soft cries did nothing to deter the speed at which he was pumping himself into you.

His desk’s phone started ringing, making you jump at thought of him answering right then, but he never did. His pace not faltering, he didn’t even bother checking who it was calling, far too focused on the euphoria your tight heat was giving him.

“Such a slut. Coming to see daddy at work just so he could ruin this sweet little cunt of yours, didn’t you?” He belittled you, his words only serving to turn you on more.

“Yes I- I want you to.. ahhh!” He stopped hammering into you momentarily, raising himself upwards until hips were pushed flush against your ass, making you take every inch of him. “I want you to ruin me daddy!!”

“That’s right baby.” He continued moving, his hands still attached to your hips as he fucked into you with full force.

His fingers were going to leave bruises, that much you were sure of, but getting to hear all of his grunts and groans whilst he got himself off using you was definitely worth it.

Amongst the sound of skin slapping and your delicate cries, you heard two knocks at the door. Duncan ceased his pounding, pulling you back to sit on his lap properly and adjusting your skirt as he waited to hear further from the knocking’s perpetrator.

“Uhm, Mr Shepherd?” A muffled voice came from the other side of the door. It was Duncans new assistant, Alex. He must have heard the two of you.

“What is it Alex? I’m busy.” You both waited in silence, praying Alex didn’t decide to come in.

“Uh Seth- Seth Greyson is on the line for you, he says it's important.” He sounded hesitant, and you knew that he would usually enter the room to give Duncan that kind of information. Meaning he had definitely heard you.

“Then tell him he'll just have to wait.” Duncan shouted now, clearly just wanting to get back to fucking you, and upon hearing the pitter patter of Alex’s footsteps as he walked away, that’s exactly what he did.

though his thrusts were sloppier now, almost uncaring as he snaked his hand over your thigh to flick your clit seemingly as fast as he could.

“Almost got caught there didn’t we, sweetheart?” He scoffed, His voice gruff, breathy and punctuated by his thrusts.

“And wouldn't that have been something.” You quipped back, finding relief in not being walked in on.

Your words were quickly followed by a scream, getting closer to finishing.

The motion of his finger circling against your clit was going straight to your stomach, creating a pressure so intense you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from cumming even if you tried.

“Mhm daddy.. i’m gonna cum!!” You did your best to warn him, knowing it wouldn't be long now until you came, but luckily he didn't seem too far away either. His speed had picked up even more somehow, and his moaning had grown louder and more erratic.

“Yeah are you gonna cum baby? Gonna cum all over daddy’s fucking cock?” He yelled out, obviously not caring if Alex, or anyone else for that matter, could hear you; Neither of you did now. So washed up with your own release’s that nothing else mattered.

“Yes daddy.. ahhh i’m cumming!!” Your legs began to tremble upon letting go, your walls clenching around Duncan and pushing him over the edge.

“Aghh fuck Y/N!” He shot his hot ropes of seed into you, crashing his hips to a still whilst he caught his breathe and gently pulled you back down to sit on his softening cock.

Resting your head on his shoulder once more, you stared across the room, feeling the warmth of his flushed skin on yours, considering the act the two of you had just partaken in.

“So that what definitely something” you smiled and stood up, pulling your panties back up your legs and fixing your skirt as you watched Duncan thread his belt back through the loops of his pants.

“Hm. I just hope Alex can look me in the eye after this” he chuckled, thinking of how awkward the poor man must have felt talking to him, after surely hearing all the obscene noises coming from the pair of you. You giggled at the thought, crawling back onto his lap and planting a much needed, tender kiss on his lips.

“Shit, I should probably call back Seth.” He frowned, reminding himself of all the emails and calls he was yet to make. He pulled the chair closer to the desk and started to dial for Seth, but then stopped to look at you.

His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his eyes darting back at forth at yours with an admiration so bright it sparkled in his irises. “Thanks for coming in today baby. I really needed that.” He stated the obvious.

You leaned into his hand, smiling back at him with a mirrored love. “Mhmm I know. I think you should fuck your stress away with me more often.”

••••••••

some tags: @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby lemme know if you want to be added or removed! cuz i just kinda guessed who i thought might want to read it😌

[ashdumpsterpile]

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

[lilydalexf]

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

Interview with bugs

bugs has 40 stories at Gossamer. They mostly focus on Mulder and Scully, but there are also some goodies featuring Reyes and Doggett. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her fics here before, including The Link. She also co-ran WhyIncision, a fun, smart X-Files mailing list that dissected fics like a book club. Big thanks to bugs for doing this interview.

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

Not really. While I was still in high school, I started watching the then 20 year old OG Star Trek and became a Trekkie of a sort. Starlog magazine, James Blish novels and the other novelizations, and while I was working as a library page, I found fanfiction one day among the periodicals.  Who knows how fanfiction ended up as part of a library's materials, but there it was, this tattered mimeographed collection. The fic that had the most impact on me was one where Nurse Chapel wrestled a giant alien snake to save Spock's life.

So when I got into XF, one of the first things I did was look for fanfic, knowing somewhere out there, Scully was wrestling a big snake for Mulder.

That experience showed me the power of fandom, that even without the internet, how the second generation of Trekkies joined the original group to advocate for the franchise to be revived. I remember sitting in the theater for that first awful Star Trek movie, choked up with what we'd done.

Tragic backstory way to say, no I'm not surprised that a well-produced show like XF would beget future generations of fans, and that they'd be chewing their way through the fanfic archives still being maintained.

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

I'm so grateful to the fandom. Literally formed the life I have today through the confidence it gave me. Many of my friends to this day are 'pocket friends' from the various fandoms I've been in, and the longest friendships were formed in XF. I learned how to write, both technically and finding my voice. I learned how to think analytically, more than any college courses.

The two most important things I took away were, write for yourself first and always, and shit ain't that damn important. In the end, it's a TV show.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

YIKES.  I came in at the Fight the Future summer hiatus, so the waning days of ATXC, then we moved to mailing lists, right?  Yahoo Groups was in there somewhere. Finally message boards. Live Journal rose up at the end of the run which began to fragment the fandom even before the show ended, along with the migration off our individual websites to Archive of Our Own, fanfiction.net and such. We went from group discussion platforms to 'come look at my blog for my thoughts'. It was different and I didn't particularly like it, but in the end, when I came back to fandom for a new show....I had to get a Live Journal. That's the most interesting part of fandom, that a platform doesn't mold a fandom; we use the platform and when it's no longer useful to us, we abandon it en mass.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I've touched on that a bit, but to elaborate, I'm glad I started in the XF fandom. It had such high standards and I hope that I maintain those standards for myself to this day. These days, I don't usually have a beta reader, but that took a couple hundred posted fics to get to that point.

Having seen the same exact flamewars and divides and squabbles over and over, seen how the taste of 'fame' can drive someone to be rather unpleasant, has given me a much more 'whatever' attitude. It's sort of comforting when joining a new fandom to know what's going to happen next in its natural progression.

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

There's a meme "I have a type," and XF definitely had that type, but it just took me a while to get there. I was away at college then working on the road when the show started, and wasn't home on Friday nights most of the year. My mother has always been a big sci-fi fan, so she actually was watching before me. I don't like scary things, and would leave the room if it was on when I'd visit her. I was home for Christmas when Christmas Carol/Emily aired and I remember standing tentatively just inside the room so I could flee if necessary, and watched Scully go through the wringer, and ranting, "What the hell is this? Why are they putting that poor woman through this!?" I also saw how the show was doing the big ship tease, and I was like, uh, I don't have time for this. Even by my 20's, I'd been done wrong by so many shows that I'd become bitter. But the first film trailers suggested they were actually going from UST to RST, so I figured I could give 2 hours of my time for that.  And yeah...but I was hooked, and WENT TO BLOCKBUSTER AND RENTED THE VHS TAPES TO CATCH UP....this interview is making me feel very old.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I've always been a shipper and have no shame in that, as I think forming and maintaining a relationship is the most conflict-ridden enterprise humans can attempt, and thus is the most challenging thing to write about. Like many fanfic writers, I'd 'told stories in my head' ever since I can remember about the characters from books, shows and movies. It was just a matter of then writing it down for the first time.

After I was sucked into the show and it was still the summer hiatus, I got on my first computer, dialed up that screeching modem, and went on Netscape to search for that fanfic I knew had to be out there from my Trek experience a decade ago. Like many people, after inhaling much of the delicious fics out there, I decided I can do that. I'm someone who's very methodical on my approach to something new, so I studied what worked/what didn't, the expected formatting, got a sense of the culture I was entering, acquired a critical beta reader, so when I actually submitted the first chapter to AXTC, I was calm and confident.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I watch from the sidelines, with a vague little smile on my lips.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Yes, I have. Battlestar Galactica had a lot of Philes, but it was still a big step away from the very organized fandom in X-Files. Plus, with so many characters, there could be lots of little groups focused on their favorites. Same in the Downton Abbey fandom. Just a different dynamic.

On the other end of the spectrum, one of my most popular fics is in the Silence of the Lambs fandom which I've never been involved with any other fans or their fandom, if it exists. It just sits out there on fanfiction.net and chugs along with the reads. My current fandom is The Doctor Blake Mysteries which is tiny but mighty--the saying is, we're six people and a shoelace. It's shown me that it's not the size, not the 'fame' possible, but the passion that makes a fandom.

Sadly, at least at this time, I don't think there will ever be an experience like The X-Files heyday. It was such a golden moment of the rise of internet and home computer use by the general public, a large generation of educated women having the time to participate in fandom, and there wasn't the amount of 'noise' that is distracting us all now. I'm so glad that you're doing this exercise to record our thoughts. We've already lost so many of the OG folks. My first beta, Janet Caires-Lesgold; Trixie, way too young; Shari, also too young; Brandon D Ray, leaving his family too soon; and many more.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 9, 2021)

[ninjabelle]

Key-points in Berserk if Guts was allowed to act on his emotions where Griffith’s involved - Meta

There is a theme with regards to Guts always wanting to run to Griffith when he is feeling emotionally shaken up and vulnerable and though it happens a bunch of times in a lot of subtle ways all throughout Berserk the 3 that majorly stand out to me are - going back in time - the hill of swords, primrose hall and after the Zodd fight when Griffith’s recovering.

Let’s start there, and this is also a direct (long winded lmao, forgive me) response to this reply by @bthump about what I wish had gone differently.

When Griffith gets injured after fighting Zodd together Guts wants to see him. I forget the exact timeline but I’m pretty sure this is effectively immediately after. As soon as he’s able to, but he’s stopped by Caska and whatever it was that he wanted to say or do gets put on hold until his talk with Griffith outside later on when, surprise surprise, they get interrupted again. This is also a theme and another recurring, deliberate one. Guts never gets to have a true heart to heart with Griffith and vice versa and this is something that drives the plot forward because otherwise those two would’ve run off into the sunset together long before the eclipse ever had a chance of happening. The whole of Berserk rests on the fact that Guts and Griffith have unfinished business and the entire story takes a nosedive into the dark and depressing once Guts overhears Griffith’s speech to Charlotte at primrose because, again, he’s stopped by Caska (again!! poor girl gets done so dirty every time she gets used like that but that’s meta for another time) and he does not have the opportunity to speak with Griffith about how deep that affected him either.

So, back to just after the first Zodd fight, though he doesn’t seem as deeply wounded and emotionally raw as he was after accidentally kebabbing Adonis while trying to get to Julius, I believe he was deeply shaken up by the whole Zodd encounter regardless, not to mention the thought of Griffith being injured, the guilt - god, the guilt, between the two of them I don’t know who would win when it comes to sheer amounts, but the key difference is that Griffith’s guilt morphs into self-loathing and ruthless actions and Guts’ guilt manifests as self doubt and a recklessness and disregard for his own safety that gets thrown back into his face when Griffith shows time and time again that he’s willing to put himself at risk to protect Guts in spite of all that. Imagine what a shock to Guts’ system that was, to be seen like that. It’s what he still wants, even now wayyyy post-eclipse.

If he hadn’t been stopped that very first time, I imagine him storming into that room and demanding Griffith explain why he risked his life again. His handling of the guards earlier and the fact that he never, not once during the golden age gave a single shit about politics and standing and propriety and would only participate for Griffith's sake speak volumes, because in that moment of intense feeling and on a quest for answers he moves on emotions alone, like he does in battles, where he goes with his gut instead of strategizing, and it helps the Hawks win, because he is the perfect wild card and so complementary to Griffith's more analytical nature. You could argue that emotive Guts = best Guts, but when it comes to directing them at Griffith in a productive way he always gets stopped one way or another, and I mean every. single. time.

In a perfect world Guts gets to storm into the room, where they’re alone and they do not get interrupted and instead of a non answer like ‘do I need a reason?’ Griffith would tell him exactly why, and the only you made me forget my dream is said to Guts’ face instead of thought during Griffith’s despair event horizon. Guts probably wouldn’t even know how to process that and would promptly leave the room to think that over, or not think about it and swing his sword some in frustration, but crucially that would have created an opening and a version of Berserk where Guts is mercifully allowed to seek out Griffith when his emotions dictate that he should.

So then, even if the story unfolds the same after this and Griffith still makes his speech to Charlotte and Guts still wants to see him that night because he just did something horrible and needs comfort, even if Caska gets thrown in front of him again to stop him there would be an opening - because it was allowed to happen before, and last time he learned he meant more to Griffith than he could have ever imagined, maybe he would know to take Griffith’s words about equals and see them for what they really are instead of feeling so horribly incompetent and resolving to leave.

In a perfect world he seeks Griffith out afterwards, and tells him he overheard, and Griffith would probably panic and start babbling politics as damage control, and Guts would throw in a ‘what are we?’ and Griffith would look into his eyes and say ‘you’re so much more to me than an equal’ (I’ll write the fic someday, I promise) and then... well. All I’m saying is when Guts is allowed to be emotionally vulnerable when he’s alone with Griffith that would give Griffith the boost of confidence he needs to finally open up and tell the truth about his own feelings. Because Guts isn’t alone there, Griffith’s just as emotional, just as fragile, if he allowed someone close. He’s just better at pushing all that down until his indifference becomes a mask he wears and a weapon he wields.

He could overcome it, but it starts with Guts, he’s the catalyst, as the only one that could have ended Griffith’s dream that’s only fair.

Now last but not least, the hill of swords.

In a perfect world, the eclipse never happened because Guts, knowing his true worth in Griffith’s heart, would never leave. And even if he did, for whatever other reason, having opened up to someone would have made Griffith a hell of a lot less repressed, and less likely to hit a point of despair so strong it triggers the behelit. After all, it wasn’t the torture that broke him.

But.

The eclipse does happen, and even then, with all the bad blood between them and al that hurt and anger Guts still want to run to Griffith. There is a reason why my favorite moment in the whole entire manga is that scene. It’s just- mwah. Kissing my fingers. So good. I almost have no words. Almost.

Guts, for a moment, forgets that he has to kill Griffith. And I say has because wants does not feel right to me. I don’t believe Guts, nor Griffith, nor Caska or anyone in the story for that matter really ever gets to do what they want. In the world of Berserk desire is a ticket that leads straight to tragedy. But Guts has to kill Griffith, and he forgets himself for a moment and is ready to run to him, and in that moment I see the echo of all the moments before where he wanted to do the same thing and was stopped.

Again it’s Caska that jolts him back to reality and his rage and away from Griffith, who even as Femto draws Guts in. Who even after everything he’s done has Guts standing there with wide eyes and the whole of his body straining towards him. Now if this sounds overly romanticized to you I say this, look again. That’s Guts, again, vulnerable and raw and hurt, and to who does he want to go? I guarantee if Zodd hadn’t whisked Griffith away when Guts went on his mad dash to run him through with a sword under the pretense of rescuing Caska it would not have been her he’d locked eyes with first.

Do I believe they would have talked heart to heart, even in that setting? I doubt it. But if Caska hadn’t been involved, and Zodd was nowhere to be seen I wonder what could’ve been said. I imagine Griffith as Femto wouldn’t have let Guts come close enough to physically harm his brand new body, but perhaps if he was slightly less in denial about no longer feeling anything he would have let Guts rant and rave and cry out all his anger instead of flying off, and maybe in seeing the pain in Guts for what it truly is - betrayal over hatred, a broken heart over unstoppable righteous fury - that would have made it easier for his heart to thaw, and perhaps then at least he would know that he meant more to Guts, like Guts meant more to him. And Guts, would he admit that to himself? That it’s not just anger and hatred he feels for Griffith? It gets hinted he knows that damn well several times post-eclipse, that the anger and hatred is just a front, the beast of darkness whispers it to him all the time. But it never gets to go somewhere, because he’s not alone with Griffith when it happens. Even now, even as enemies instead of comrades he’s still not allowed to be near Griffith when his emotions demand of him that he should be.

And that’s a damn shame.

Ninja out~

[squadrablog]

ok I've joined the Ghiaccio hype train, could I request a Ghiaccio fic with a reader who doesn't like sudden loud noises and will definitely cry if you yell at them? they're really intimidated by Ghiaccio but they're comfortable with the rest of La Squadra, so he's struggling to be a good team member to someone who's always nervous around him. feel free to make it romantic or platonic, your writing is amazing!! 💕💕

Here you are! With the stuff I ended up focusing on I thought that shoehorning a romance in would feel weird, so I focused more on exploring the beginnings of a platonic friendship with him. Lots of awkward Ghiaccio and miscommunication but it all ends up good. :^)

Ghiaccio & Reader (platonic, gender neutral)

Ao3 Mirror Here.

Word Count: 3921

Warnings: Reader has childhood trauma w/ loud noises, not gone into in depth. Assassination job implied but doesn’t happen in text.

Under cut for length!

The last thing you saw yourself doing with your life was becoming an assassin, but here you were. You were a tough kid, scrappy and resourceful when it came down to it, but only because you had to be to get by. You always thought you’d eventually leave that old life behind. The gunshots echoing into the night from rival mafias squaring off to claim the neighborhood you lived in as their territory. The shouts from the man who took you in when you had nowhere else to go, only to berate you when you failed to pick enough pockets to meet his quotas. The way the older and meaner children would torment you, taunt and deride you, whenever you let your vulnerability show.

And you had, more or less, left those parts of it behind at least. When you joined Passione as a last ditch effort to survive you were given a sense of stability that you had never had before, and after initiation when your stand manifested as something powerful and deadly, it didn’t take too long for you to get placed into La Squadra di Esecuzione, Passione’s team of elite assassins. 

As a stand user working with other stand users you rarely relied on guns to get your work done. You were no longer struggling to get by, and although your new Capo held his team to high standards he made sure you had ample training and was patient with you while you were still getting your footing. All your teammates were surprisingly supportive; even if they were wary of outsiders, when it came to their own family they looked out for each other.

It was a dangerous life, not without its own anxieties, but it was a much quieter life. It was a life in the shadows, with a roof over your head, with work that allowed you to use stealth and silence. Even if you couldn’t exactly say you were thrilled about being an assassin you were at least surrounded by people who genuinely cared about you now, watched over by a man who never raised his voice at you for things outside your control, and most comforting of all: you never needed to use a gun.

Not all loud noises set you off, just the ones that reminded you of the violent instability of your childhood and the cruelty of your guardian and peers. Your new teammates could get pretty noisy and spirited, but the boisterous and jovial nature of their laughter, even from their more intense teasing, was a comforting change of pace. You didn’t doubt your value or the fact they respected you.

Well, mostly. There was one teammate who was a bit harder for you to let your guard down around.

His name was Ghiaccio, and to say he was loud would be an understatement. When you first met him he had been a bit standoffish, but so were Risotto and Prosciutto. You knew it would take some time for everyone to accept you as a real part of the squad, and you were ready to be patient. But as you quietly observed everyone for those first few weeks, getting a feel for their individual personalities and their dynamics with each other, you found yourself very intimidated by Ghiaccio. He was able to pal around with the rest of them, even if he was gruff as a default, but when something upset him it was like a switch had been flipped.

He was critical of his squadmates’ performance out in the field, and he never hesitated to offer his critiques regardless of how little anyone wanted to hear them. He was critical of the way people talked, constantly nitpicking everyone’s pronunciations and word choice. He was critical of the way that chores around the house got done, judging everyone’s efforts by timeliness and thoroughness.

Everyone was able to brush him off most of the time without problem. When they actually valued what he had to say they never seemed to take the mean way he said it personally. They’d had plenty of time to get used to him and sift through the bullshit. They knew when something actually mattered to him and when something was just him blowing off steam for the sake of it. They knew when it was fair to ask him to shut up and when it was best to let him get it out of his system.

You steeled yourself as best as you could in those first few weeks, just telling yourself you needed some time to understand his quirks like the rest of your squad did, but your opinion changed immediately after your first mission with him.

“Is Prosciutto teaching you anything?” he barked out at you after you two finally managed to take out your hit. You flinched and looked away from his intense gaze. You were a bit anxious about being alone with him for the first time, and you wanted to give him your best effort to impress him, but being on so on edge caused you to make some big mistakes.

“Well?” he demanded when you said nothing. You had assumed it was a rhetorical question.

“Y-yes?” you stuttered out.

“Then you’re the one accountable for fucking up today. What the hell was that?” he asked, his question ending in something similar to a snarl.

Something that was different about working with Ghiaccio as opposed to working with the others was that he argued out loud to no one in particular about random topics that pissed him off. At first you thought he was expecting you to talk to him about how nonsensical some phrase was that Formaggio used before the two of you left, and you listened attentively, but he never gave you any room to respond. Eventually you realized he wasn’t really conversing, just yelling to yell. It was very distracting and it only made you fidget and lose focus.

“I… well…” you choked out. “It’s usually quieter… on my missions, since my stand is- well, since my stand is made for stealth and-”

“Me talking prevented you from doing your job correctly?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. You just shrunk even deeper within yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was insinuate your mistake had been his fault. There was no way that wouldn’t provoke his ire.

“N-no! You didn’t do anything wrong! It was me, I’m really sorry! It won’t happen again!” you squeaked out.

“Better not,” he grumbled sarcastically with a huff before turning to walk down the street towards his car. You followed, keeping a good distance behind him, not looking forward to the ride back to the base.

---

That had been weeks ago. While you had been doing a decent job at tolerating Ghiaccio before that mission, afterwards was a different story. You actively avoided him, checking if he was in rooms before entering, excusing yourself when he came into a room you were already in, shutting yourself in your room upstairs when you heard him start up on a rant somewhere on the main floor.

Eventually it was shamelessly (or perhaps shamefully) obvious to just about everyone.

“Dude, what happened on your mission with them?” Formaggio asked in a hushed tone one time after your footsteps had disappeared up the stairs. “They’re terrified of you.”

“How the fuck should I know? They haven’t said anything to me about it,” Ghiaccio shot back.

“Uh, yeah, duh. That’s what I’m saying. They won’t even sit in the same room as you,” Formaggio muttered.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, scrunching up his eyebrows. “But it’s not like they talk much to begin with.”

“Are you kidding?” Illuso interjected, inserting himself into his two teammates’ conversation, much to Ghiaccio’s annoyance. “I can get them to prattle on for hours about themself. They’re a real chatterbox once you get to know them.”

“Illuso, dude, have they told you the story about their mission with Pesci down at the wharf?” Formaggio asked with a big grin.

“Fuck, I almost forgot about that,” Illuso replied with a chuckle. “What about the time where-”

“Hey! Shut up for a second,” Ghiaccio snapped. “We’re all talking about the same person, right?”

Upon being interrupted Illuso narrowed his eyes at Ghiaccio before turning to Formaggio. “It’s obviously because of Ghiaccio’s poorly controlled rage. Have you ever seen the poor thing freeze up over a gunshot before?”

“No, but I can imagine. One time I tried scaring them from behind and it took them ten whole minutes to recover,” Formaggio responded.

“I haven’t done shit to them, what possible reason do they have to be scared of me?” Ghiaccio asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, what happened on that mission?” Formaggio asked again.

“It was pretty standard, I killed the bastard while they assisted. They did fuck up pretty bad, which is typical during training, so I pointed it out for their benefit. Then we left,” Ghiaccio recounted. “Nothing else happened.”

Formaggio raised an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“I don’t know! I think I asked if Prosciutto was doing his job right since they didn’t seem too confident. I asked if there was anything that might have contributed to their lackluster performance, but after thinking it over they said that it was on them.”

“Sounds pretty level headed and analytical of you,” Illuso said, stroking his chin. “Are you sure that’s how you said it?”

“Probably not in so many words, I was probably more casual about it,” Ghiaccio grumbled. “Why does it matter how I said it? What’s important is what I said.”

“Ghiaccio, your brand of casual is a few decibels above what’s average,” Illuso said.

“Not to mention the casual expletives, or the casual sarcasm,” Formaggio added. “Are you sure you didn’t casually tell them to go fuck themself without realizing it?”

“No! I mean, if I was stern with them it was in the context of training!” Ghiaccio insisted.

“Are we being trained right now? Is that why you’re yelling at us?” Illuso asked with a smirk.

“This is just how I talk!” Ghiaccio said, bringing a hand up to his temple. “Ugh, I don’t fucking know! Maybe I yelled at them? I remember being very straightforward. They seemed kind of on edge, but I just assumed that’s how they always are!” He dropped his hand and turned to look at his two teammates. “Are they really not like that on missions with you?”

“Not anymore,” Illuso said with a shrug. “At first a bit, but they’re pretty reliable now.”

“You’ve got to go slow with them. They’re easily set off, but if they know they can count on you they’re able to push through it,” Formaggio said.

“My stand is invincible and I never even let the guy near them. There’s no one better suited for watching someone’s blind spot than me,” Ghiaccio said with his hand splayed out on his chest.

“I mean, like… emotionally,” Formaggio said, scratching the back of his head. “If I was to put myself in their headspace I’d say they probably think you hate them.”

“I don’t hate them,” Ghiaccio spat loudly.

“Good! Now step two is letting them know that,” Illuso said, clapping a hand on Ghiaccio’s back, causing his glasses to slide down his nose.

Ghiaccio grumbled and pushed his glasses back up. He knew that things were weird between the two of you ever since your mission, but it never even crossed his mind it was because of something he said. Is this what Prosciutto felt like training Pesci? But even Pesci had never been avoidant or scared of Prosciutto for all the tough love that he gave him. Pesci looked up to him like an older brother.

If he was really the only one in all of La Squadra that you were uncomfortable around, then he supposed it was on him now to figure out why.

---

The base was pretty quiet today, with a lot of missions landing on Risotto’s desk this week. While you were quite fond of your new teammates you liked having the common area all to yourself on a quiet evening, especially if you were curled up with a novel. When you first started living at the base it felt like a luxury, but even after you had gotten used to the quiet its novelty hadn’t worn off for you.

The sound of a key jingling at the front door had you peeking over your book. When Ghiaccio appeared framed by the living room entrance you held your breath. Hopefully he’d be going upstairs… no, it looked like he was coming into the common area. That’s okay, you could move, so you started standing up, except… he was looking right at you, heading in your direction.

“Sit down,” he said stiffly, and after a beat he added, “Please?”

“Uhh! Okay!” you said, sitting back down and bringing your book right back up to cover your face.

“Can you also, uh. Please. Put the book down?” Ghiaccio said, his voice strained to maintain a monotone and flatten out any inflection. You did as he asked, although you still couldn’t meet his eyes, and he just stared at you awkwardly.

“Uh-”

“Hello,” he said, and it left his mouth at the exact same time your muttered exclamation had. Another awkward pause.

“Hi?” you said, unsure. This wasn’t what you were expecting from your next conversation with the man, for as long as you had postponed it. You thought he’d be demanding to know why you were ignoring him, or getting on your case about being too sensitive to handle his criticism on your last mission. Maybe that was yet to come?

“You are afraid of me,” Ghiaccio stated flatly. Then perhaps he realized he wanted to ask it as a question. “Yes?”

“Oh, no, I’m…” you muttered.

“Of course you are,” he said quickly, cutting you off before you could mumble out an excuse. You got pretty embarrassed by that, but you swallowed and moved your eyes up to gauge his expression. He didn’t look angry, but he looked hyper focused to the point of distress. His lips were pressed together tightly as if he was trying to hold back from speaking again.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For being scared of me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He was being sarcastic again, wasn’t he?

“No, I… I mean… I’m sorry for,” you started, trying to think of something legitimate to actually be sorry about. “For fucking up on the mission.”

“Did fucking up on the mission really bother you that much?” he said. Not only were you stupid for fucking up the mission, but you were also stupid for letting it bother you for so long! What did he want you to say?

“No, I mean…”

But Ghiaccio cut you off with a long loud exhale. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing. I understand that I make you anxious, and I understand that for whatever reason it’s hard for you to talk to me, but I really can’t understand what people say unless they drop all the bullshit.” When you frowned and looked away he tried again. “Not bullshit, fuck, uh. No, not fuck... It’s just that. I need you to say exactly what you mean. I can’t tell what people are thinking unless they make it… easy for me.”

You looked back at him. Whatever he was here to talk about with you, he was trying very hard not to raise his voice. The way he was talking to you was too stilted to be anything but intentional. If he was doing this for your sake, then you would try to meet him halfway. You took a moment to think, to choose what you wanted to say carefully.

“I don’t do well with loud noises. I also… take things very personally. I’ve been worrying that you…” You took another second before committing. “...Hate me.”

He pressed his lips in a thin line again as some noise tried to escape his throat, perhaps an instinctive denial. “What about me makes you think that?”

“Well… you seemed pretty disappointed in me after the mission.”

“I was checking in with you. I wanted to make sure Prosciutto was properly training you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But… but you sounded really angry and sarcastic.”

Ghiaccio closed his eyes and thought about that for a second. “I probably was angry, but not at you. You just fucked up on something so basic that I had to wonder if Prosciutto was actually teaching you anything useful.”

“That’s… not how you said it though,” you said, feeling defensive. “I… I know I did something dumb… but I’ve never messed up with my stand like that before. It was different on that mission.”

“Me talking to myself?” Ghiaccio asked. He had been fixating over what he said to you at the end of that mission for days now, trying to remember all the details. He recalled how you had started with one explanation, but you quickly retracted it.

“You were… so angry the entire mission,” you complained. “Everyone else is quiet on missions with me because my stand is better suited to it.”

“It wasn’t a stealth mission,” Ghiaccio countered. “We were using your stand for something different. I wasn’t even talking to you.”

“I know!” you groaned. “You weren’t trying to distract me, but when things get too loud I…”

“But you took it back. You said it wasn’t me,” Ghiaccio said, leaning forward. His voice had risen just a little, but when he noticed how you reacted to that he tensed up.

“I took it back because I was afraid of upsetting you!” you said, leaning back into the couch as far as you could. “Because when I brought it up… you were mean about it… so I took it back! I thought you were trying to tell me it was my fault, so I took the blame like I thought you wanted!”

“I was… I was asking for clarification! If I did something that caused you to fuck up then I want to know that I did so we can talk about it!” He was clenching his fists to keep his upward inflections from becoming full-blown yelling.

“None of that came across!” you complained. “Like… maybe you technically said those things, but the way you said made it come across completely different!”

“What about you? Now you’re telling me that you meant something completely different from the things you actually said to me!?”

“I-I… but I was obviously upset! I was obviously just trying to appease you!”

“How was it obvious? I thought you were upset because you fucked up! No one likes fucking up!”

“Yeah, no kidding!” You realized at this point that your own voice was starting to rise, which was making Ghiaccio raise his to match yours, and you took a deep breath before speaking calmly again. “I was upset because I was afraid.”

It was quiet again for a little while until Ghiaccio broke the silence.

“Being mean and angry comes really easy to me,” he said, running his fingers through his curls. “Even when I don’t realize it, I still am. Even if I think I’m being reasonable, people misunderstand. I’ve been so used to the others actually being able to take it that I forgot how bad it was.” He scratched at his head a bit. “I also have a hard time telling how loud I actually am until someone points it out.”

You sat there for a moment, soaking that in, before you gave a small amused huff with a half-smile on your face. “I’m not great with loud noises because of what they mean to me. Gunshots remind me of a time when I wasn’t safe… but I can protect myself now, and I have other people who will protect me too. But yelling reminds me of… how I was never good enough for anyone.” You tapped your fingers on the cover of the book on your lap and shrugged.

“I hear from the others that you’re really skilled and reliable on missions,” Ghiaccio said. “I didn’t see that from you when we worked together, but maybe that’s because I was the one who fucked up.”

“But you didn’t...” you started.

“I fucked up by not meeting you where you were at. You’re new. I don’t know you, I don’t know what you’re like. If we had talked beforehand, if I had worked with you, then you probably wouldn’t have made that mistake. I was taking the lead on that mission, it was my job to train you to use your stand in an unfamiliar circumstance. I use missions to get out all the shit that makes me angry, since I don’t need to stay quiet. You don’t work like that. You had no idea what I was yelling for. I never told you how I do things, I just expected you to brush it off like everyone else does.”

You blinked a few times. You had been pretty quick to blame yourself for your own shortcomings, but hearing him say that really recontextualized that entire mission experience.  You might have fucked up, but it was now obvious that he did not hold it against you. “That’s surprisingly self-aware of you.”

He rolled his eyes and set his elbow on the couch’s armrest, plopping his head on his fist. “You don’t know me either. I’m more than a raving heartless bastard. Stuff like this… not understanding why other people think the way they do, or what I’m doing wrong… it really fucks me up. I don’t hate you. You’re a part of my family now and I genuinely want to help you get stronger. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Ghiaccio was nothing like you thought. He was actually really sensitive and introspective. You could tell it was hard for him to confront you like this, almost as hard as it was for you to be confronted. You appreciated that he wanted to put in the effort to have a relationship with you.

“Thank you Ghiaccio. And I’m sorry I avoided you instead of trying to talk about it like this.” You reached over and placed your hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile. He seemed taken aback by the contact, but he relaxed after a moment.

“Are we… good?” he huffed out.

“I think so!”

He let out one long exhale that seemed to go on forever. “Thank fuck,” he muttered, before turning to look at you. “Goddamn it, sorry.”

“It’s not the swearing that bothers me,” you clarified. “It’s the intention behind it. You’re… uh… fucking good, my dude.”

He let out a snort at the awkward way you said that before bringing his hand up to cover his face, looking away in embarrassment.

“Aw, no, that was cute,” you assured him, which only made it worse.

“Well, if we’re done here then I’m heading to bed,” he said, and you glanced at the clock in the living room. It had gotten pretty late. He stood up and started walking towards the stairs.

“We have a mission together again this weekend, right?” you asked, and he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you said with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. And you meant it. “Goodnight!”

“...Night,” he said, before he disappeared around the corner.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Under My Skin (Ethan x MC)

Warning: 18+, NSFW

Summary: Set in the middle of chapter 6, Ethan and Naomi have it out over the current state of the diagnostics team.

Tags: @colourmeshy @virtualrain202 @fanmantrashcan @writinghereandthere @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune ~v~

Naomi stares at the textbook in front of her, eyes tired and blurry. She checks the time on her cell phone and 3:22 AM stares back in bold, white letters. Craning her head slightly, she spots Ethan standing at his kitchen island, looking at something on his laptop. 

She never thought she’d be back in his apartment, but he invited the entire diagnostics team over so they could get some research done on Leland Bloom’s case. Ethan wants it to be solved as quickly as possible, and he wants to be rid of the tech billionaire, so after work they all congregated in his apartment, eating Chinese food, drinking wine, passing around textbooks and throwing out theories. 

They’ve been at it for almost 6 hours now. 

The energy in the room is off. Ethan’s been pissed ever since the board told him they’d need to be for-profit and start accepting wealthy clients and potential donors, and everyone feels it. June, Baz, and Naomi have been walking on eggshells around him, but aside from occasional snark from Naomi, they’ve been extremely curt.

Jenner likes her though. The golden retriever took a shine to her the moment she crossed the threshold to Ethan’s condo, sniffing at her feet and attaching himself to her hip. He’s now lounging with her, head in her lap and she pours over this book, and she’s glad. The friendly dog provides an excellent distraction and Naomi is thankful, because his owner currently sucks.

Naomi has dealt with a lot of Ethan’s moods before: upset, defeated, angry, happy, the works. But she’s never had his ire directed at her before. They’re in this mess because of her, and it’s a tricky space to occupy. It’s not fun.

“As much as I love reading, if I look at another word, I think my brain might melt,” June says, breaking the tense silence. She stifles a yawn.

“I’ve tapped out for the night as well,” Baz adds. “I’ve looked up every possible kidney and bladder disease and disorder known to mankind. I’m on sensory overload. I think it’s time I go home.”

Ethan looks up from his laptop. He knows his team is probably exhausted. He can’t believe they’ve actually stayed over this long. “Well, thank you for staying. Go home, get some rest, I’ll see you at the hospital.”

June and Baz gather their belongings and all of the study material they brought along with them, returning Ethan’s living room to its original tidy state. Muttering goodbyes, the two of them exit the apartment. 

And then there were two. Naomi ignores the tension, ignoring the fact that they haven’t been alone together in over a week. Instead, she buries her face in her book, trying to focus on the words.

Ethan doesn’t bother sparing Naomi another glance before asking, “You didn’t want to leave with them?”

“Why, are you about to go to bed?”

“No.”

“Then, no.” She’s not going to stop now, and give him the satisfaction of thinking she’s given up for the night. Her stubbornness won’t allow it. “I don’t want to disrupt the process. I want this guy diagnosed and treated as badly as you do.”

Ethan scoffs. “I doubt it.”

Naomi has been giving as good as she gets when it comes to the passive aggressive snark, but it’s just exhausting at this point. She refuses to be his emotional punching bag any longer. She whips around in her seat. “God, is being a petulant little crybaby a second full-time job for you?”

That manages to get Ethan’s full attention. He levels a cool glare at the young resident, eyebrow raised in challenge. “You’ve gotten real comfortable calling me out of my name recently. Care to repeat that, Valentine?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Ramsey. You’re being a petulant little crybaby. You’ve been trying to pick a fight with me for the past 2 weeks. Look, I apologized, multiple times, for going behind your back or over your head, but I will not apologize for doing what I believe is right, not just for the team, but the hospital.”

“And you’re an insubordinate know-it-all!” Ethan shoots back. “You’re the type to touch the hot stove despite being repeatedly told not to because you think you’re a special snowflake who’s above getting burned. You lack foresight and analytical thought and self-preservation.”

Naomi recoils, having not expected Ethan to snap at her like that. “Excuse me?”

Jenner recognizes the change in tone between both adults. Not wanting to be caught in the crossfire, he moves from his spot on the couch and trots out of the living room, disappearing into the hallway.

“You thought this was going to be easy, that patients would just come flocking to us, but look at us, and everything would be perfect. We’re part of some social media...something or another’s video diary, we’re competing with a subpar hospital for patients despite being better than them, wasting time and resources because he wants to treat this like a reality show contest, and who knows what’s next, because you’ve opened Pandora’s box. We’re whoring ourselves out to the highest bidder, and the integrity and core foundation of this team has been compromised. So please spare me the martyr act, Naomi, and while you’re at it, please remember that I’m still your boss the next time you want to spout off at the mouth.”

Naomi’s hands are shaking, and she can practically feel the anger boiling in her blood. The nerve of this man. She stands up, ignoring the heavy book that fall out of her lap and onto the floor as she does so. She charges over to him, and sizes him up. Ethan’s almost a foot taller than her, but Naomi doesn’t care about the height disparity. She tilts her head back so she can look him in the eye.

“I’m not a martyr, but you’re a self righteous hypocrite. You’ve been pouting and waxing poetic about Naveen’s mission when you were the first one to mess with his legacy.”

Ethan’s nostrils flare at the accusation. “Excuse me?”

“Last year, you got into bed with Declan Nash and big pharma, compromising your own shaky moral code in order to save the life of one person. I’m trying to keep the team around in order to save a lot more people than just Naveen!”

“That was different!” Ethan argues. It doesn’t even feel right coming out of his mouth, but they’re far too deep in the argument for him to do anything besides dig his toes in.

“The only difference is you were the one in control then. But because it is my idea, you’re rejecting it. You’re being completely unreasonable here, Ethan. We’re standing in the middle of a sinking ship. Edenbrook is in trouble. My friends and I didn’t get our new salaries upon becoming residents, there’s talk of them shutting down the free clinic, and they’ll be coming after our team next. Who knows, maybe they’ll decide that mental health isn’t important and the entire psychiatric department should go. And then the nurses. And then they’ll start ordering less and less supplies, just to stay above water. And maybe you don’t care, because you’re Ethan Ramsey, you’re so wealthy that you only get a one dollar salary from the hospital, you’re established, your livelihood isn’t on the line, and I’m sure any hospital in the world would kill to employ you, but the rest of us? The little guys? We don’t have that option, so again, if you’re looking for me to kiss your ass and grovel because I made an executive decision, you’re going to be looking for a mighty long time.”

Ethan studies her, his gaze coolly fixated on her as she rants because he’s waiting for the second she stops talking, so he can jump back into his own argument. He realizes that it’s not an effective way to debate, and he falters slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Naomi goads, her voice taking on a singsong tone. She’s embroiled in the fight now. “Cat got your tongue?”

In his 37 years of living, Ethan can confidently say Naomi Valentine is the most infuriating woman he’s ever met. A stubborn, impulsive, hot-head with a smart mouth. 

And fuck, he’s made a mistake.

Her mouth. Now his gaze is fixated on it, her full lips that she’s repeatedly bitten down on during this argument, the tackiness of her lip gloss, the way her tongue darts in and out.

Their argument is now the furthest thing from his mind, and he’s actually annoyed by it. What is it about this…woman that completely bewitches him? He wants to argue, not be transfixed on how pretty she is. She doesn’t even have to do anything and he’s under her spell again. 

A sharp jab in the middle of his chest pulls Ethan back to reality. He looks down and realizes that Naomi poked him in the chest, out of anger or to get his attention, he’s not sure.

“Hey!” The fact that he’s ignoring her only makes her more incensed. He started this fight, he doesn’t get the right to dissociate and shut down in the middle of it. “Have you listened to a word I just said?”

“No,” Ethan answers honestly. Naomi’s eyes darken at the response. He didn’t say that to piss her off further, but he won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight.

He can tell she’s going to launch into another tirade, one that’s completely separate from their original issue, because that’s just how things are between them; they spiral before either of them knows what’s happening.

Before she can even fix her mouth to call him another name, his hand cups her jaw, tilting her head back, and he slants his mouth over hers, kissing her fiercely.

She gasps. This is the first time he’s ever caught her off guard and initiated a kiss. She’s usually the one to be in control.

All too quickly, Ethan pulls back, locking eyes with the young woman in front of him. She’s dazed, chest heaving and eyes glazed over.

“Did you do that to get me to stop talking?”

“No, I kissed you because I wanted to. But the fact that it got you to stop running your mouth is a personal bonus.”

Naomi huffs, but doesn’t say anything else. God, he could be such an asshole at times.

“I want to do it again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His blue eyes pierce into her own, and it suddenly becomes hard to focus on anything other than him. “Can I?”

She doesn’t know why it’s so sexy, him asking for permission, but she feels the butterflies in her stomach rumble at the question. She’s barely able to nod her head before Ethan launches himself at her, sending her flying back into the kitchen counter.

It’s so different from any other kisses they’ve shared. This one she can feel all the way down in her toes. His tongue darts out, gliding against her bottom lip and demanding access to her mouth, which she eagerly grants him.

Everything about him invades her senses: the feel of his calloused hands touching her jaw, the scratch of his beard against her face, the smell of his cologne (something by Gucci that she’s been yet to narrow down), his taste (she can still taste the wine on him, even though he drank it earlier), his sounds (the little groans that only she’s privy to, always gravelly and smooth, that make her knees buckle). It all culminates into this one man that is so all-consuming, it makes her lose her mind.

The kisses become shorter, more teasing, allowing Naomi the opportunity to actually breathe. He leaves kisses along her jaw and neck, making her whimper.

Ethan wraps an arm around Naomi’s waist and spins them, pushing her against the wall. She winces upon contact. “Warn a girl next time.”

“You want to know what’s been on my mind recently?” Ethan asks, nipping at Naomi’s earlobe.

“W-What?”

His hands find purchase underneath the grey Henley she’s wearing and he lifts it up. Her stomach clenches under his touch and it’s maddening just how responsive she is to him. “I haven’t been able to get the sight of you out of my mind since I came to pick you up from your apartment the other day.” With trembling fingers, Naomi helps him remove the shirt, and it’s tossed somewhere behind them.

She’s not wearing the grey bra he saw the other day, this one is a soft pink, and he groans at how it contrasts against her skin. There isn’t a color that doesn’t look good on her. “I stood there…” he only pauses to place opened mouthed kisses on her collarbone. “...like a floundering idiot…” this time he kisses slightly lower, earning a sharp inhale from Naomi. The noise does nothing to soothe the erection straining in his jeans. “...while you decided to tease me.”

“You’re the one who decided to stay,” Naomi shoots back with a shrug. “So I had to put on a little show.” He hums in agreement. His tongue darts out, flattening over her lace covered nipple. “Fuck, just take it off!”

“You still have no patience,” Ethan observes. He yanks at the material, until he hears a loud tear.

“That’s La Perla!”

Ethan blinks, struggling to find the significance in that statement. Was it supposed to mean something to him? “Okay?”

“It was expensive, you jerk!”

“I’ll buy you 10 more,” he replies with a shrug before resuming his previous activity, pulling one of her nipples between his lips, sucking lightly. Naomi’s breath comes out in quick bursts, and it’s becoming harder for her to stay grounded to reality. She reaches out, wanting to touch him, but he intercepts, catching her wrist. “Hands to yourself, Valentine.”

Ethan’s fingers make work of the button holding her jeans together, and he drags down the zipper. He yanks at her jeans with the same care he afforded her shirt and bra, tugging them down until they pool at her feet. Naomi does the rest of the work, hopping around until the pants are fully off.

“You and the thin scraps you call underwear, have been driving me insane all week,” Ethan confesses. “The other day when I came to pick you up, part of me was so mad at you because of your blatant defiance, but the other part of me wanted to push you onto that bed, and do very, very inappropriate things to you.”

The wetness that floods her panties is overwhelming. She clenches her thighs together in hopes of alleviating some of the tension, but it doesn’t help. Figuring out a new strategy, she wraps a leg around his waist, pulling him flush to her. She rolls her hips, grinding into him. The growl that escapes his lips only fuels her and strokes her ego. “You should’ve.”

Ethan kisses her again, reveling in the needy way Naomi claws at him. Her fingers are desperate, fingering into his t-shirt, twisting at the fabric. He’s unsure if she wants to take it off, or if she’s impatient enough to say ‘fuck it,’ and just rip it.

Whatever the case, he doesn’t let her continue. Grabbing both of her hands, he forces them on either side of her. “You really do have a problem with listening. No. Touching.”

The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down her spine, but whatever rebellious side of her that wants to challenge the command is squelched with one look into his eyes. She can tell he means business and now isn’t the time to challenge his authority.

With restraint she didn’t know she had, Naomi places her palms on the hall behind her, and she stays as still as she can.

“Good girl.” Ethan smirks and drops her hands. He untangles himself from her and steps back an inch to admire his work. “You followed directions for once.”

Whatever smart aleck reply that was about to fly from her mouth is stifled by Ethan pulling her soaked underwear down and slipping two digits past her folds. The noise she lets out is a mixture of a high pitched yelp and a strangled moan, something that threatens to choke her.

The pace he sets is random and uneven, never giving Naomi a chance to settle into a rhythm, and she wonders if this is his way of punishing her, keeping her keyed up and writhing on him for what feels like eternity, trapped in her own form of purgatory.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and bucks her hips wildly into his hand, trying to keep pace with him.

“Stop doing that,” Ethan demands, using his free hand to pull her lip out of her mouth. “I want to hear you, Rookie.”

Something about the use of her former nickname makes her moan, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Ethan.

“You like the nickname,” he states. “It’s funny, you know.  You take every opportunity to defy me, argue with me, and push my buttons, yet you get off on me controlling you.”

She can’t focus. He’s too close, it feels too good, and her brain can’t function properly under these conditions. He presses forward, the heel of his palm pressing into her clit, earning a hiss.

“Admit it.”

At this point Naomi would admit to committing armed robbery if it meant he’d keep doing this. She nods frantically. “Yes, Doctor.” He groans at the use of his title, and he pumps harder, curling his fingers inside of her. 

Naomi stands on tiptoes and desperately claws at the wall behind her. “Fuck Ethan, please!”

“Please, what? What do you want?” His lips find her neck again, and he sucks on her pulse point, only making things more hazy. “Use your words, Rookie.”

She wants a lot of things. She wants to cry out, she wants to dig her nails into his back until she draws blood, she wants him to keep talking her through this, his gruff voice in her ear as she shatters around him.

Unfortunately, Naomi cannot form a coherent sentence to save her life. She just rolls her hips, shamelessly grinding herself into his hand. “I...I…” The pleasure mounts, building in the pit of her stomach, spreading out. She’s so close, she can almost taste it. 

“Do you want to cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please, I want–” Ethan rewards her for her honesty and his thumb drags into her clit and he rubs the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles. That’s all it takes, and she orgasms with a strangled cry and she’s thankful Ethan is right here because he holds her upright as her legs momentarily give out.

When Naomi regains the ability to stand on her own, Ethan lets go and slowly removes his fingers. Moving fast, Naomi grabs his hand, and without breaking eye contact with him, she slides the two digits into her mouth, licking them clean.

Ethan’s next breath is a shaky gasp that leaves his lung far too quickly. “Fuck, Rookie.”

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?” Naomi suggests, releasing his fingers with a loud pop.

Ethan shakes his head. “No.”

He registers the confusion on her face, but Ethan doesn’t give her a chance to respond. He grabs her by the waist and kisses her again, walking them towards the living room. He only breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt over his head, and it joins the growing pile of discarded clothing scattered around. Naomi helps him speed the process along, getting rid of his belt and popping the button on his jeans. Her fingers hook into the belt loops of the pants and she pulls them down.

Before she can do anything else, Ethan stops her wandering hands. “Wait, wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Ethan knocks his forehead against hers and he sighs deeply. “Naomi, if you don’t want to do this, please stop me now.”

She thinks it’s cute that he’s giving her an out, but she doesn’t need it. Her fingers slip past the waistband of his soft cotton boxers, a warm dainty hand wrapping around him.

Ethan shudders as a warmth spreads through him at the touch of her hand, and he mentally curses himself. He pushes her hand away.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not cumming into your hand.” Ethan spins Naomi around and bends her over the arm of his couch. 

While it’s not the desk in his office, Naomi won’t complain. She feels one of his calloused hands trace the length of her spine and her eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

No patience left, Ethan tugs down his underwear, letting the material pool at his ankles. Without another word, he lines herself up at Naomi’s entrance and thrusts into her all at once. He groans at the sensation.

Naomi has never been more thankful for couch cushions, as they muffle the scream that escapes her.

“Fuck, Naomi.” He digs his fingers into her hips before pulling out and slamming back into her. He doesn’t give her any time to adjust, but she doesn’t mind. They both know patience isn’t her forte. “You’re...so...tight.” His words are punctuated by sharp thrusts that threaten to steal the air straight from her lungs.

He leans forward slacking against her, but Naomi welcomes the weight. His beard scrapes against her shoulder blade, his breath warm against her ear, his fingers which are no doubt going to leave a bruise, all of it makes her dizzy, and god, this isn’t going to last much longer.

His thrusts become sloppier, more frenzied as the pleasure mounts, his blood boiling in his veins like molten lava. The only thing he can hear is the sound of the skin slapping, and his ragged breaths.

“Are you close?” He asks. But Naomi can’t think, let alone actually speak words, even if something monosyllabic would suffice. Why does he keep trying to make her speak? Her head drops with a thud and she mumbles something incoherent.

“For someone who had so much shit to talk earlier, you’re mighty silent.” Letting go of her hip, Ethan tangles a hand in her hair, yanking it back so she can’t hide her face in the cushions anymore. His other hand reaches around and he rolls her clit with his middle finger. Still way too sensitive from her last orgasm, she thrusts back, clawing at the couch with her nails, but he holds her in place, refusing to let her move.

“Ethan, fuck, don’t stop!” The words fly out all at once, shaky, fast and jumbled, but it’s all Ethan needs. 

With a burst of energy he didn't know he possessed, he drives into her, plunging deeper. “Cum for me, Rookie.”

Naomi screams. Loudly, and she’s sure his neighbors might be very annoyed, but she doesn’t care. Everything goes white behind her eyes as he all but pushes her over the edge. She clenches around him and Ethan hisses as she’s holding him in a vice-like grip. A few quick thrusts later, and he’s joining her in ecstasy, spilling inside of her. The hand holding her hair tightens for a second, then relaxes.

She’s pretty sure she blacked out for some period of time because when Naomi is finally able to focus, they’re no longer obscenely bent over the arm of Ethan’s couch. They’re on the floor, in the cramped space between the couch and the coffee table. 

She’s hot and sticky and absolutely exhausted. She places her hand over her heart, willing it to stop beating so erratically. Stealing a glance, Naomi peers up and looks at Ethan. He looks as disheveled as she feels, his hair tousled, lips swollen, chest and neck flushed red.

Her voice is horse and completely shot to hell when she finally speaks, “If that’s how our fights are going to play out from now on, I’ll let you pick more fights with you. And I’m a Cancer, we’re stubborn people.”

“I think we can find a happy medium somewhere.”

Naomi rolls over, until she’s nestled into his side and her head is on his chest. She can feel his heart beating rhythmically under her cheek. “Are we still fighting?”

“No.”

“Are you still mad at me?” He doesn’t answer the question right away, and a sense of dread fills her.

“I was never really mad at you,” Ethan admits after a long bout of silence. “I’m just mad at the entire situation. I’m mad at the budget cuts, I’m mad at our country’s healthcare system, I’m annoyed with your inability to listen to me. I’m mad at Leland Bloom’s obscene wealth and the fact that he gets to dangle his money in our faces like we’re horses waiting for carrots.”

“You made the right call, Naomi,” he continues. “But it’s a call you shouldn’t have been forced to make in the first place. I’m sorry for making you carry the brunt of my misplaced anger.”

“Apology accepted. And since we’re apologizing, I’m sorry for calling you a petulant little crybaby.”

Ethan chuckles. “Do you apologize for calling me a goddamn diva, as well? Don’t forget ‘entitled jackass’ and ‘spoiled child’.”

“You co-signed ‘spoiled child’ so I am not apologizing for it.”

“Fair point,” Ethan concedes.

Blindly searching with an outstretched hand, Naomi finds her cell phone and checks the time. She has to be at work in 2 hours, though she’d much rather get into Ethan’s bed and go to sleep.

“That happy medium that you mentioned? I think I have it figured out.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, yeah?”

“First and foremost, I promise to never go over your head again, if you agree to do a trial run on whatever ideas I may come up with. You can’t shoot me down immediately.”

“I’m...willing to agree to that.”

“And once this all settles down and the hospital isn’t on the verge of complete financial collapse, maybe we can convince the board to only take on one or two billable patients a quarter.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, I tend to have those every once in a while,” Naomi teases.

Ethan stares at Naomi as she laughs at her own poor joke. Everything about her is an anomaly to him. She blew into his life a little over a year ago and here he is, willing to adapt his entire ethical code for her. And here they are, entangled together as if he didn’t spend 2 months on a different continent in order to get her out of his head. What is it about her that he can’t shake?

He gently cups her jaw and kisses her as if she’s a precious gem, like he didn’t just try to devour her. “What are you doing to me?”

Naomi smirks, recalling that it’s the same question he asked her in Miami. “Hopefully something good.”

He kisses her again. “Better than good actually.”

Realization washes over her that once she leaves this apartment, things are going to go back to being the way they were. He’ll go back to pushing her away. “So does this mean you want to have another reset?”

The question throws him off, but he soon understands what she means. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Ethan repeats. If there’s a happy medium to be found between his team and the board, maybe there’s one for him and Naomi.

She doesn’t allow herself to get swept up by his words, but instead she braces herself for the chance that he pulls the rug from under her feet. “Well, what does that mean?”

“It means you and I are going to take a shower together, go to work, and we deal with our obnoxious patient. And after work, you’re going to put on something fancy because I’m taking you out to dinner. How does that sound, Dr. Valentine?”

Naomi can’t stop an annoying grin from spreading across her face. “I think it sounds pretty damn good, Dr. Ramsey.”

[the-final-sif]

I wish you would write a fic... "Class 1-A knew Izuku had obsessive and somewhat stalkerish tendencies (see his room covered in AM merch). What they didn't expect was the even more extreme behaviour he had when it came to Katsuki. Notebooks, pictures, clothing, newspaper clippings, merch from Katsuki's modeling days, everything. Katsuki had expressed his distaste of Izuku following him around, saying he's always right there. But they failed to take into account how he can't express properly."

Okay, so this is only 50% what you asked for, but fuck it, my brain took this places. Todobaku / one-sided bakudeku w/references to stalking/obsession below.

Izuku was nice. That was a given. He was a sweet kid, he was always apologizing, always trying to help other people. But even Shouto could admit that Izuku could be a bit overbearing at times.

Still, he’d never understood why Katsuki took such issue with the other boy. Izuku was so nice to him, so positive, so sweet. He cared so much about Katsuki, and all Katsuki seemed to do was get mad at him for it. Shouto assumed Katsuki was just an asshole and moved on, and then-

And then he started spending more time with Izuku.

It was little things at first. Izuku’s All-Might collection was a bit weird, but Shouto was hardly one to talk about weird. When Shouto first looked over Izuku’s photos he’d brought with him from home, he might’ve noted in his head that Katsuki was in all of them, but that wasn’t that weird. The only thing that struck him as a bit odd at the time was that Izuku had one photo on his desk that was only of Katsuki, a photo of him when was maybe 6 or so, fast asleep. The photo was cute though, so Shouto didn’t think that much of it.

Remedial courses came and went, and Shouto found himself growing closer to Katsuki. Really, the other wasn’t so bad. It was a bit odd, but Shouto found he was nicer when Izuku wasn’t around. Calmer. More willing to go along with things. Odd.

One day he asked the blond outright what his problem with Izuku was. Katsuki growled a response at him, a bit of a rant, but one particular part of it all caught Shouto’s attention.

“Fucking stalker-”

Hm. At the time, Shouto didn’t give the insult that much weight, but it still stuck in the back of his mind.

Izuku asked about Katsuki sometimes, after they’d finished their extra courses for the day. He always asked how Shouto’s day had been first, polite as ever. But sometimes he’d asked after how Katsuki did. There was a interested light to his eyes when he did so, even if he kept his posture causal while he worked on homework. Shouto got more hesitant to answer the question. It was all harmless information, but some part of it felt weird. So he let his answers get shorter, less descriptive. Izuku would press for more sometimes, but he always backed off when Shouto rebuffed him a second time, and then everything went back to normal.

The notebooks took him longer to discover.

He’d been looking for Izuku’s notes from math class. His friend had given him permission and told him where to look in the room, but Shouto had gotten a bit turned around. The bin under Izuku’s bed had seemed like any other.

Only it wasn’t.

It had what looked like… fashion magazines? Mostly kid’s fashion. Again, not that weird. There were newspapers too though. And the notebooks. Each one carefully labeled with “Kacchan” and a number on the spine. The handwriting got better the higher up in the numbers.

Shouto knew he shouldn’t look any further, it was a violation of his friend’s trust, but- But he was pretty sure the existence of these was a violation of something else of Katsuki’s. So he picked one up and peeked inside, just enough to confirm what he’d suspected was inside. All of it was notes on Katsuki, sketches, incidents, thoughts. All in Izuku’s handwriting. Shouto took a second to look through a few of the magazines, at the marked pages. Photos of Katsuki. He must’ved modeled when he was younger. The newspaper articles were all about him too.

He didn’t know what to do about any of this, so Shouto tucked all of it back into the bin and put the bin back under the bed, just as he’d found it. It didn’t take long for him to find the math notes after that, but Shouto didn’t feel like studying now.

As hard as he tried to pretend he hadn’t seen anything, it was hard not to. He found himself paying more attention to Katsuki and Izuku’s interactions. How often Izuku stepped closer when Katsuki told him to back off. Before he’d considered it a kind move on Izuku’s part, trying to reach out anyways, despite Katsuki’s hostile personality. Now… Now-

“Izuku, Katsuki already said he didn’t want to partner with you on the project.”

Oh. All eyes in the room were on him now, shocked by his statement. It was something small, a class project that Izuku had wanted to partner up with Katsuki for. Katsuki said no, and Izuku kept pushing, and everyone rolled their eyes, knowing Katsuki would give in soon enough. That’s just what the two of them did. The same old song and dance. 

Shouto couldn’t stand aside though, not when he saw how Katsuki’s shoulders hunched in defensively. Not when he saw how Izuku’s eyes had that edge to them. Analytical, and dangerous.

He’d had lectures on stalkers when he was younger. His father had wanted him to be prepared for that aspect of being a hero.

“They always seem nice. If they weren’t good at coming across as nice, then they’d never get close enough to stalk someone in the first place.“

Those words rung in his ears and drove him forwards, speaking up for the very first time.

Green eyes were wide, shocked and betrayed. Red eyes were wide too, but it was hard to read what emotion was in them. Everyone was watching him, even Aizawa-sensei was no longer feigning sleep. Right. He needed to say something else now, to redirect the situation.

“Why don’t you partner with Tsu-chan? She doesn’t have anyone yet, and I heard her discussing a similar idea to yours.”

That seemed to restart the room, Tsuyu agreed easily enough and came up to sweep Izuku to the side. Kirishima was more than happy to partner with Katsuki instead. The class moved on, dismissing it as Shouto being tired of listening to the two of them argue.

Aizawa-sensei was still watching him, but Shouto pretended he didn’t notice.

After class, Shouto took an extra minute to gather up his stuff. The rest of the class had already left, everyone but one person, who Shouto didn’t even notice until he looked up and saw the blond looking at him, same odd expression in his eyes. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Katsuki jerked his gaze away, grabbing his bag and heading for the door. He paused just before he reached it.

“Thanks.”

The word was quiet, gruff, but sincere.

Katsuki had never thanked him for anything before.

“He should’ve listened when you said no.”

That got him another one of those looks. Which he didn’t understand, but which he thought wasn’t exactly a bad thing. Katsuki’s voice was even quieter when he replied, and dare Shouto say it, vulnerable?

“He never does.”

And then Katsuki was pushing out door. Gone, leaving Shouto to his thoughts.

Shouto started spending more time with Katsuki after that. A little less time with Izuku, it was a gradual shift. He found himself stepping between the two of them more and more often. Partnering himself with Katsuki when he could, to stop Izuku from doing it first. Always being the first to back Katsuki up when he said no. Always being the first to listen and respect that no.

Green eyes went from shocked to harboring an anger in them that almost scared him. Almost.

It wasn’t something he did with the intention of growing closer to Katsuki. But it was an interesting side effect. The more he got to know the other. The more he helped the other push back on Izuku, the more relaxed around him the other became.

Katsuki started cooking around other people more, and without Shouto asking, he’d often find that Katsuki had made extra for him, sometimes for him and the rest of the so called ‘bakusquad’, but almost always for him.

When there were weekends he didn’t want to go home, because he just couldn’t take the emotional mess that was his house, he found an invitation from Katsuki waiting on his phone. Extra training together. Not optional. His family always accepted the excuse, and Shouto did always train during those weekends, but it was a relaxed sort of training. Shouto would even call it hanging out, if it was with anyone else.

Green eyes started watching Shouto more often. He could feel them on him when he sat next to Katsuki in the common room, having lured him out there with Kirishima for a group movie night, and somehow ended up pressed right beside the other boy. Shouto ignored them as best he could. Until he wasn’t given a choice.

“I’m worried about you Shouto, you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Kacchan, and you almost seem like you’re avoiding me. Did he- did he say something about me?” Izuku’s eyes were watery. A few months ago, Shouto would’ve dropped everything to comfort him, to promise that he would never speak to Katuski again if it would make Izuku happy.

Today, he held his ground. They were out in the hallway, Shouto had just been coming over to study with Izuku, the first time in a long while.

“No, we’ve just been getting along better since our remedial courses. You were right, he’s really not so bad once you get to know him. I actually like spending time with him, more than I thought I would. It’s nothing to worry about.”

He didn’t miss the flash through those green eyes. Jealousy? Maybe.

“Oh, you like him.”

What was that supposed to mean. Shouto’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it, but Izuku spoke up again, before he could question the other.

“I mean, you’ve got a crush on him. You want to date him.”

Shouto opened his mouth to deny it, and then snapped it closed again. Fuck. Did... did he have a crush on Katsuki? He couldn’t deny the idea of dating the other was appealing. But that wasn’t why he was spending time with Katsuki.

“Oh, Shouto.” Izuku’s voice was soft, filled with pity. The other teenager took a step forward, offering him a sad, sad smile. “It’s okay. It happens. But Kacchan doesn’t like you like that. And, it’d probably be such a bad idea anyways. I mean- I know about how things are with your father. You’d know better than to choice someone that reminded you of him.”

Jealousy hadn’t been quite the right word for the look in Izuku’s eyes. It was possessiveness. Shouto knew that look all too well. He wondered why it took him this long to see it. He took a step back.

“You’re right. I do.”

And with that, he turned his back on Izuku, making his way up the stairs to his friend’s room.

Katsuki answered when he knocked on the door, annoyance quickly fading when he saw who was standing there.

“What is it?”

With an awkward grin, Shouto gestured to his English textbook.

“Any chance you could help me with the essay due Monday? I can’t get my verb tenses right.”

Red eyes rolled, but he was let in without much more than some grouchy muttering, and when Katsuki sat on the bed, Shouto didn’t miss how he sat down right next to Shouto, shoulder’s brushing and legs touching.

He worked up the courage to ask Katsuki about the bin one night, when the two of them were walking back from a workout.

“Do you know he has, I mean, about the notebooks?”

Katsuki sighed. It was long suffered, and his eyes looked so tired.

“Yeah.”

They didn’t need to say anymore. Shouto got it now.

Shouto couldn’t recall quite how it happened, but the two of them had been studying together, and somehow he found his lips an inch from Katsuki’s. Eyes locked, legs crossed over each other’s. It’d be so easy. A part of his mind screamed that he should just go for it, but green eyes flashed in his mind, and he hesitated.

“May I?” He asked, his voice breathy and low.

“Fuck yes.” Came the response, and Shouto surged forward to seal the deal.

That night they talked. They kept it a secret for about a week, while they figured things out. Izuku knew. Shouto didn’t know how, but he could feel the heat of those green eyes well before Katsuki gruffly let his squad in on his new boyfriend.

Shouto didn’t care though. He didn’t care about the envy in those green eyes, or about the trouble he knew was going to come. What he cared about was Kirishima’s bright congratulations, followed by the rest of Katsuki’s friend’s support. The little smile Katsuki got, even though he tried to hide it. The blush on his boyfriend’s cheek’s as Shouto reached over to gently brush his hand, asking  silently for permission that was granted when Katsuki’s hand turned to wrap around him. That was all that mattered to him.

[werevulvi]

I kinda just wanted to make a rant, to lay out why I feel so iffy about trans women and hopefully get a better understanding of my own feelings and what the fuck is brewing under that surface. There has to be a reason. This post is analytical drivel, not a debate, but by all means, feel free to respond or otherwise talk to me about this. Let's take it from the beginning and then go from there.

Part 1 Detransition:

So, I began detransitioning roughly 2 years ago. That's where my feelings about the trans community as a whole began to shift, and with that my feelings about trans women. At that time, I was still active in a truscum group and came out as detrans there, after having been known and looked up to as a trans man there for over a year. At first I was accepted, but when I started having doubts about wanting to get rid of my beard, and felt like I wanted to embrace my body hair and deep voice... people there started acting like shit towards me. They told me that my biological sex still being female did not matter, that I was essentially a man and had to detrans medically to be considered a woman again. That hurt badly.

Shortly after that, I was also told that because I was medically transitioned, trans women were "more female" than me. That was like the last drop that made the goblet pour over. Fuming, I started saying that I'm more of a woman than trans women can ever be, even if I keep a full beard, because they'll never be truly biologically female, no matter how much surgery they got. I was hurting by their cruel words, so I stuck it where it would hurt them the same. (I’ve always an “eye for an eye” sorta person.) That's when people started telling me that I hate trans women, but I felt like that was a misunderstanding. That I was just acting out, out of sadness, grief, anger, panic, and having my gender denied for the sake of validating trans women's genders.

But were they right?

Part 2 Gender critical thought:

Over time, I got exceedingly gender critical and fell into radblr. I also read/watched content that "exposed" transgenderism as a scam, most of which was articles and youtube videos from conservative right wing people, and Christians. I had joined an fb group for detransitioners, and the creator, a "born again" Christian detrans man, happily shared all the many sources he had on how transgender was all a scam from the start of its movement. I felt somewhat sick consuming those links, but probably equally intrigued. But at the same time, I kept a foot in the trans community, starving for attention, even though I was never good enough for them anymore, unless I lied and said I'm not a woman. What a sick twist of fate, I felt.

Part 3a Sexuality, from a lesbian view:

Sometime around that, I struggled with my sexuality and after a lot on inner search, I came to the conclusion I was a lesbian. I felt as though I was only attracted to the same sex as myself, including trans men, but felt nothing worth praising towards males, including trans women. That led to yet another rabbit hole that I tumbled down into. I became convinced that majority of trans women were lesbophobic predators, and I had some shit luck on dating apps. Most people who approached me there were gnc males; transvestites and trans women. I almost went on a date with a good-looking trans woman whom I had mistaken for female, because I felt guilty for having lost attraction to her the moment she told me she's trans and post-op. Luckily she canceled our date for unrelated reasons. I felt like because she was attractive to me before I knew she's trans, but felt completely uninterested in her after the fact, I couldn't possibly be attracted to trans women.

Part 3b Sexuality, from a bisexual view:

That, of course, is not necessarily a bad thing. But I kept asking myself why. Especially since I realised my error in my sexuality calculations, and upon correction discovered I'm actually bisexual after all. I still find women and transitioned females attractive, and in addition to that also men in general, and some vaguely transitioned males. Except from trans women. That odd little inconvenience stood out as a sore thumb which I couldn't stop scratching. Why? I kept asking myself. Why not trans women?

My question dug deeper than just to attraction. I don't think I feel iffy about trans women because I'm not attracted to them. I think it's the other way around.

I never had to convince myself to be attracted to trans men. I discovered early on in my own transition that some other trans men were really hot. That was it. I later on dated a trans man whom I was head over heals in love with. That confirmed it. I've been questioning my attraction to standard men and women far more than I ever questioned my attraction to trans men. It was that obvious, that clear. However, when it comes to trans women I was always the complete opposite. That no matter how I twisted and turned it, I only ever felt revulsion at the thought of being sexual or romantic with a trans woman. No matter how well or badly they passed, no matter how aesthetically pleasing or how charming their personalities.

I wanna clarify that I'm not at all forcing myself to be into trans women. I'm just trying to understand why, so that I'll no longer feel bad about my lack of attraction to them. Because I cannot accept things which I do not understand.

Part 3c Sexuality, digging for answers:

At first I thought, maybe I'm just not all that attracted to femininity. It's not like I typically get super into hyper-feminine natal women either, and fake tits and faces with a ton of plastic surgery has always made me queezy. No, I seem to have a strong preference for masculinity in partners, regardless if they're butches, other masc bi women, trans men or kinda standard masc natal men. So then it just kinda makes sense that trans women, whom are often hyper-feminine, just don't fit that image. Except... that one trans woman I almost went on a date with... she looked like a butch. I mistook her for a natal woman partly because she had short hair, no makeup and wore what looked like men's clothing, but I could see she had hips and tits, and her face looked naturally female. But I still wasn't into her, because she's trans.

Then I thought... okay, that one checks out, but maybe I'm just creeped out neo-vaginas? Yeah, that must be it! I'm almost equally creeped out by neo-penises too, but most trans men don't get bottom surgery anyway, so it hasn't been much on my mind. But then I thought: okay, but what about trans women who choose to not get bottom surgery then? I am attracted to dick. Nope, still uneasy at that thought. I started comparing men who are just very feminine, to trans women, and noticed yeah I don't actually feel half as iffy about men who are just feminine. A man in a dress and makeup can actually be very hot, to me. And I've always preferred long hair on men. But I prefer them still looking clearly male underneath that, although I don't mind a few androgynous features here and there. But I’m only into it if they don’t act like their affinity for femininity makes them women or non-binary, or if they’re feminine in a way that mocks or sexualises womanhood. So I’m not into tacky transvestites in over-sexualised lingerie. At least try to be tactful and elegant, please. So, it’s not male femininity per se that puts me off. If there’s any femininity I’m actually into, it’s male femininity. Because gender non-conformity is attractive to me. And I love the idea of being a strong female protector and girlboss of a gentle, delicate, feminine man. At least I like fantasising about that. (But enough about my daydreams.)

Part 4a Womanhood, biology and identity:

Somewhere after having gotten that far in my digging, I started getting close to finding my sore spot: trans women's view on womanhood.

As for myself, my own view of womanhood is completely detached from femininity. I'm just like... I can even have a full beard and bass voice, a flat and hairy chest, and still be a woman. Because I'm simply bio female. Trans women tend to very often think that they need to "pass" and with that comes a certain look: high voice, no facial hair, no body hair, big breasts, curvy hips, etc. All of which are features that I'm dysphoric about having on my own body, but admire in other natal women. But on trans women, it's like I feel uncomfortable about those kinda features on them. Like to me being a woman is just dealing with having developed that way, or not dealing with having developed that way. Where as for them it seems to be actually striving for developing that way, and I guess that causes my brain to short circuit. Cannot comprehend.

Part 4b Womanhood, fragility and validation:

My womanhood is kinda fragile. I admit that. I'm quite insecure as a woman, because of my transition and masculinity. I feel like most of my womanhood has been lost, which although I'm fine with, I still grieve. I grieve it because I was a bit of an idiot when I first transitioned and had not yet processed my trauma - not because I regret looking like a man. It's complicated, but basically... I feel as though my womanhood is hanging by a thread, which is my genitals, reproductive system and chromosomes; all of which are either mostly hidden or always invisible.

I'm often met with disbelief and disagreement. People either saying "You're not a woman because you can't possibly be female. You look too male." or "You're not a woman because you medically transitioned. You having a uterus is not enough to make you a woman." and it gets to me. And then there are trans women... some of whom do not even need to put on a wig to be instantly validated as women by just identifying as such. Others thinking that because I look like a man, they refuse to think of me as a woman. And that... pisses me off.

There have been a few trans women who in some utterly failed attempt at being supportive of me have said I'm like a nonbinary person who is half male and half female. That's not a lot better, but thanks for trying... I guess.

Part 4c Womanhood, dysphoria and misogyny:

I think that might be what gets to me about trans women. All of it. This entire list of things. That some of them are lesbophobic predators and have absurd claims of what being female is, that others mock womanhood, and yet others view themselves as somehow more female than I am. The genital factor and the slight creepiness of plastic surgery. Their view of womanhood as an identity and my view of it as a biological sex. I keep ending up in fights with trans women about these sorta things. I can't keep a lid on my frustrations no matter how hard I try to just see them as people with dysphoria and opinions that are different from mine. I cannot find any fucking solidarity between myself, as a dysphoric natal woman, and trans women. I feel like they're making mockery of my sex, my dysphoria and my struggles with misogyny, as well as making me feel like shit about something that I love about my body: my transition. I have no common grounds with them, and whenever they try to find solidarity in stuff like misogyny, I feel like they don't even know what the fuck they're talking about. I have a huge bone to pick with them, on multiple levels, and I don't even know where to start or where it ends.

Part 4d Womanhood, jealousy:

But a lot of it comes from jealousy. And I think it's mutual. I'm jealous of their ability to access female only spaces despite being male, which I cannot access despite being female. I'm jealous of their ability to be accepted as women. And on the other side, I think they're jealous of my reproductive ability, and my female socialisation, which I'm not like super hyped about myself, although I do love my pussy (she gives me great orgasms.) I'm jealous of their ability to claim womanhood without even trying to pass as female, because people are quicker to accept the woman-gender-identity than the woman-bio-sex. But likewise, ironically, I sense that they're jealous of that I can claim the "woman lane" despite looking convincingly male, because I'll always be biologically female, no matter how insible my sex is.

They cannot see me as a woman, because of my transition, without looking at themselves as men, no matter how far they transition. And I cannot see them as women, no matter how far they transition, without labeling myself as a man, because of my own transition. I think that about nails it.

Part 5 Conclusions:

I don't think it's true hatred, but rather insecurities both from myself and from them. Because we cannot both exist as women under the same ideology. One of us has to be considered a man, and neither of us is willing to fold on that. Ultimately... I am a threat to their womanhood, as much as they are a threat to my womanhood. And that tension is so thick... not even a knife could cut it. I guess the sad thing is though, that I think that tension is unnecessary. I am so unlike trans women that we could potentially bond based on how different we are. Because there is a lot of similarity in those differences, if you really think about it.

But no, I do not wish them harm in any way. Despite the vast array of insults I sometimes hurl their way. That is really just in response to them insulting me. I do not think they're doing anything wrong by transitioning, or even necessarily by identifying as women. I think, if they had just been more like "I can see you as a woman despite having transitioned, because deep down you like being female and having a pussy... kinda like I'm a woman because I wanna have a pussy, despite having been born male" I would have been much quicker to embrace them. Because that, I could get behind; but they can't.

So, there is no solidarity. It remains an endless fight. But I feel like it's not just on my part. I have tried. I do try. But they're not willing to meet me halfway, and that makes me go to attack in self-defense, which makes then go to attack in self-defense.

[atinykidult]

A War Against Your Personal Space — Jung Wooyoung

[prompt request] [1900 words] — spy!au, enemies to lovers, “Hold your fire!”/”Suck on that!”/”Shut up for a second, will you?”/”I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

[content notes] [fluff] — There’s firearms, cussing, respectively dramatic/knowing Seongsang, endearingly annoying Wooyoung, competition, red cheeks, a lowkey cliche but satisfying(?) premise, etc., etc.

[a/n] — I’m so sorry if the lack of action is disappointing! I’m not great at it, so I focused on the recon/practice/snarky/non-fabulous aspects of the Spy!au. But there’s still plenty of aggression haha Thank you for reading! <3

.

Jung Wooyoung is a piece of shit.

That’s the only thing you can think as you continuously fire at the moving targets.

Bang, bang, bang!

Next to you, he’s doing the same.

(That is, firing at the targets. The shithead probably doesn’t even have thoughts in his head, and, therefore cannot be thinking.)

You’re doing well until you miss one target on your non-dominant side.

You aim more carefully and—

Bang!

Next to you, Wooyoung’s looking at you with an infuriatingly cocky smirk.

“You took my target!” you growl at him, angrily tearing off your ear protection.

He gives you a look. “And you missed!”

You let out a screech of anger, and without thinking do the one thing every firearm safety instructor says not to do:

You point your gun at your teammate.

His eyes are still sparkling with competition and mischief as he raises his hands. “Hold your fire,” he says almost lazily. (Your eyes keep getting drawn back to the damn smirk on his lips.)

Annoyance courses through you like a migraine.

Your hand’s itching to cock and fire.

Sadly, you would be in loads of trouble and job searching if you did.

So you drop the gun and walk away. Let him clean up.

You’re almost out the room when you hear him.

“I knew you wouldn’t! You love me way too much for that!”

“Asshole!”

Then you’re out of earshot, and Yeosang’s dry voice echoes over the intercom.

“You know, I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d done it.”

“Hey!”

“It was their shot. And we both know they could have gotten it. You just wanted to show off.”

Your pride’s still smarting two days after the firing range incident because it was true you had missed.

But, still.

As you walk into work a few days later, everyone’s gathered around the whiteboard.

“Y/N! Congrats!”

With that, you know you’re employee of the month.

Yeosang’s smile is a little knowing as you join him in the center of the crowd.

There’s your name on the board, with the most votes collected.

“Your last case was really, really good!” someone comments.

Giving your thanks over your shoulder, you’re looking over who voted for you when you reach it.

The reason why Yeosang has that shit-eating grin on his face.

“It really was a pristine field mission,” a sugar sweet voice whispers in your ear. “So exquisitely done.”

You force your face to be emotionless. “Morning, asshole.” 

“Morning, sore loser.”

(That’s been your nickname for the last two days.)

“But, very clearly, I’m the winner.” You nod to the board. “For the whole month. So suck on that!”

“Oh, yes. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Yeosang’s judgmental gaze reminds you that Wooyoung is still standing too close to you, that his warm breath is still fanning over your ear. That your cheeks are burning with anger.

Was he in a war against your personal space or something?

You storm out of the circle, trying to keep your blood pressure to a reasonable level.

.

When you’re sorting through files with Yeosang later that day, you’re ranting about Wooyoung.

Eventually, he must get fed up with it.

“I know something you don’t,” he singsongs, casually dropping a folder on your side of the desk.

His expression, for what feels like the millionth time this week, is annoyingly knowing. Like he’s watching a friend push the door that says pull.

Because he’s just that kind of person, you grouch to yourself.

“...And what would that be?”

He glances at the folder he just tossed down.

Snatching it up, you find a single page of infuriating news.

“I am not working with that infantile, ridiculous, shit-for-brains—”

“I see you got the memo, too.”

And, within eight seconds, three things happen:

Wooyoung and his damn smirk materialize next to your desk.

Yeosang and his faux sweet grin leave the space next to you.

And you lose your highly annoying but perfectly lovely filing-help to the utterly disappointing replacement of Jung Wooyoung.

The disappointing replacement leans back and throws an arm around you. “I’m looking forward to working with you, partner.”

You groan and shrug his arm off.

.

“Of course you both have to do it! We picked our two prettiest agents! For this level of case, you really should blend in after all.”

“Seonghwa, sir,” you seethe, “literally any other person in this whole building is prettier than Wooyoung.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Both men level a searching gaze at you. Seonghwa’s is more analytical, and you avoid it. But that means you end up staring at Wooyoung’s for a moment too long.

You both look away at the same time.

“Anyways.” You swallow. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“Y/N.” Seonghwa’s using his director’s voice; now you’re in for it. “You’re staking out the bars where all the pretty movie stars spend their evenings and get drunk, and find nice, also pretty companions for the night, and…”

You don’t know why you glance at Wooyoung when Seonghwa’s saying that. But you do.

You’re surprised to see him already looking at you.

“...So, yes, I’m sure you have to do it. And yes, I truly mean both of you.”

Realizing your cheeks are burning (a common theme recently), you stand abruptly. “Fine.”

Wooyoung has a triumphant grin on his face and copies you. “Fine!”

Seonghwa waits until you’ve both left his office when he texts Yeosang:

I did it T-T I convinced them they’re both prettier than me

u mean u took the first step at getting them past their rivalry?

At the cost of my self-esteem T-T

.

You spend the first four days doing research, where you try (and fail) to keep things peaceful by ignoring him.

Just email the link, even though he’s sitting next to you.

Just scribble down your thought on a sticky note.

Just ignore him when he bothers you.

Just! Ignore him! Especially when he bothers you.

“I’m telling you!” you finally shout. “If you actually read your contract you would have realized that your fucking lunch break—”

“Okay, okay!” he surrenders, grinning like he’s the one who won.

A few people look over at you, and as you realize this, you also realize how Wooyoung had propped against your side of the table in his ever-constant war against your personal space.

“Sit up and act like you’re a half-functional adult,” you snap.

“I’m not the one who shouted. But yes, ma’am.”

You bite your lip at the way her purrs the last words.

Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, don’t pull out the knife… you remind yourself.

So, it’s sad but true that some days you feel like you fail more than you succeed.

But you can’t be too angry when you realize at the end of day four:

“I can’t believe it. We have a whole case proposal — names, proofs, dates, everything,” you murmur, proudly scrolling down the document.

“All we’ll have to do is actually plan the operation and pick out our outfits,” Wooyoung agrees.

“Which is basically nothing since we have all of next week!”

“This is true.”

The euphoria a doing good work washes over you, and you can’t help but beam at him. “It should have taken way longer.”

"I know! We’re—” He snaps his mouth shut, shaking his head as though his words were unimportant.

To be honest, you feel fond of him as he just smiles softly. (He actually has a really nice smile, you notice.)

Then the moment passes, and you turn back to the computer.

(But he keeps looking at you.)

.

Wooyoung’s sitting down for lunch with Yeosang when the latter blurts: “You had stars in your eyes earlier. With Y/N.”

“You think I don’t know it?” he groans.

Yeosang pulls out his phone a few minutes later:

fuck i almost let it slip that we were watching them earlier but i dont think wy noticed bc hes oblivious as a rock

.

Only one hour after that, Wooyoung and you receive the worst possible news.

Which leads to you finding yourselves in an empty office at 11 that night.

“Fuuuu-uh-uuuuck,” groans Wooyoung.

You tiredly rub your eyes and kill all your tabs.

“My brain... is just… fuuuuck.”

Inclined to agree, you open a new window with slow, depressed typing.

“I can’t believe Seonghwa thought we could go in tomorrow. Tomorrow, Y/N! Why tomorrow?”

The screen doesn’t change for a good ten seconds. What were you even thinking again?

“I haven’t pulled a night this late ever! Besides field jobs obviously. But for those you’re doing something, and here we’re doing basically nothing, and I wish we were doing something—”

You draw circles on the screen with your mouse. What even were you thinking... it was a thought… it existed...

“And this is a form of abuse! I swear! If Yeosang somehow got Seonghwa to do this to us just because ‘you had stars in your eyes,’ I’m going to fucking—”

“Shut up for a second, will you?” you moan.

“...Make me.” His voice is sounds different from tiredness.

“Never heard that one before.”

“Please make me?”

There’s something in his tone that catches your attention.

When you give him an incredulous look, you find him looking at your lips. And you’re so exhausted you literally can’t process. (As you head home about fifteen minutes later, you start to process. And you realize you hadn’t hated it at all.)

“Let’s go home,” you suggest quietly. “I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

(As you step inside your house, the rational side of you wonders what would have happened if you had stayed.)

At some point, he moves very close to you.

(He finally won his war against your personal space, you realize as you brush your teeth.)

Very close.

(Capping your lip balm container, you press your lips together and recall how his felt, pressed against yours. So softly, at least for your perception of Wooyoung. So skillfully, which does match your perception of him.)

His face is still close, but now he’s looking into your eyes.

(He has very pretty eyes; you picture them as you slip under your blankets.)

“Let’s go home,” you repeat breathlessly, “and deal with this all tomorrow.”

His hands, callused and controlled thanks to your profession, rest gently on your neck.

“Do you think all of this… All of this will work out?”

His voice is like starlight, wavering and hopeful and the sole brightness in the dark office.

“I think there’s a very good chance that this all will work out.”

(As your head hits the pillow, you look forward to the next day. Sure, Seonghwa’s going to throw a fit because you’re not ready for a case tomorrow. But you’re really looking forward to working everything out. Everything.)

.

[general ateez taglist] — @s1ardusk​ @seongghwaa​ (thank you so much for your sweet support/friendship! <3)

[whoreforfanfiction]

They Confess Their Feelings (Mystic Messenger Preferences)

Yoosung

- you two would have to be friends for a while before he felt ready to confess his feelings

- of course, he’s talked to Zen countless times about you already, but never took his advice on telling you how he felt

- at least once a week you were at his house 

- and at least once a month you went out for dinner (which he always insisted on paying for, even though you knew it drilled a hole in his pocket)

- basically, you two spent a majority of your time together

- your favorite was when you’d spend the entire day at his house playing a video game marathon

- you got to spend the most time with him during those

- today though, you two were just sitting on the couch, talking about the new professor that hates him 

- “He’ll come around and see how fun you are,” you commented trying to cheer his sad face up. 

- An immediate blush rose to his pale cheeks

- “You think I’m fun?” he said sheepishly while scratching the back of his neck

- “Of course, silly. Why else would I hang out with you all the time? You’re my favorite person to be around,” you admitted. 

- he knew this was his moment and he tried to remember what Zen had told him to say

- they rehearsed it a million times, but his memory was failing him horribly

- he stumbled around trying to find words to return you with but he eventually just blurted out “I like you!” 

- you were shocked into silence for a second, and he took it the wrong way

- “S-shit forget I said that,” he tried to recover but you had already heard those 3 majestic words

- “No no I like you too! You shocked me there for a second,” you giggled and you pulled him into a shy kiss on the cheek

Zen

- really not shy about his feelings at all

- super self-confident, which is one of the things you liked most about him

- you were friends for a few months and after sharing conversations with you, he knew you were the one

- confided in Yoosung about his feelings since those two are like brothers

- Yoosung knew you liked Zen back

- he said it was a “vibe” he had picked up during your encounters 

- and because you always asked for more selfies in the messenger

- and today, Zen decided he was going to change your friendship and make it something deeper and more meaningful

- you were scheduled to come over to marathon a TV show you both enjoyed

- Zen made sure the scene was set

- he had popcorn, your favorite drink, cozy blankets, tissues for when you cried about characters dying

- really tried to play out every single situation in his head and plan around it 

- when you came over, he made sure you were more than comfortable

- after you two finished your marathon session, you were both somewhat drowsy

- and drowsy conversations lead to deep talk times

- “I like being here with you,” you commented, “I feel safe here.” You cozied up more inside the blanket.

- this boy has never felt more complimented in his life

- “Yeah? Well, I like you!” he said with a slight chuckle that confused you

- “Like? Or like like?” you tried to clarify but ended up sounding like you were gossiping on the elementary playground

- he looked at you, dead in the eyes, “Like like, of course.” 

- “Hehe, I like like you too,” you said as he pulled you closer to his warm body

Jaehee

- very analytical and logical

- she had a theory that you liked her, based on your conversations, but was too scared to actually test it out

- she also knew she felt very strongly towards you 

- more than a friend

- she found herself checking her phone constantly to see if you texted her back

- often got in the way of her work and Jumin started to take her phone for some periods of time

- was in the chatroom CONSTANTLY just hoping you’d show up

- took her breaks when you did enter the chatroom

- you two called at least twice a week after she got off work so she could rant about how bad her day was

- today, you decided to surprise her with chocolates to ease her stress

- you hid behind her desk and jumped out when she came to sit down which did give her a mini heart attack 

- “SURPRISE!” you said as you whipped the chocolates out from behind your back

- her face was firetruck flaming red

- stuttered over her words a lot

- “I like you a lot Jaehee, homo intended, and I wanted to make sure you had a good day today,” you confessed hoping she reciprocated you feelings

- she pressed down her skirt and composed herself

- “I like you too, and I promise next time I will return your kindness,” she stated lovingly while grabbing the chocolates out of your hand

Jumin

- didn’t know what his feelings were for the longest time

- finally, he decided to talk to Zen about them since he is the king of feelings

- “You stupid heir!! You like her! Tsk it’s so sad you can’t even tell that” Zen scolded

- like? that was a new emotion and this one he enjoyed very much

- whenever he was around you, he got these feelings in his stomach and felt a burst of energy

- he was never sad or upset when he was in close proximity with you

- very inexperienced with relationships and didn’t know the best way to show you how much he cared about you 

- Zen also warned him not to throw his money at you because you might get scared off

- he was going to think of an old-fashioned nice way to show you he liked you, without using his money

-  watched lots of love movies to study up because he wanted this to be meaningful

- the common theme he deduced from all the movies was flowers and he happened to know a phenomenal florist

- was going to call, but remembered that he shouldn’t use his money

- walked around nature for a good 4 hours picking out all the flowers he thought you’d like

- tied them together with string to make a bouquet

- but how to deliver them? shipping them to your house would be easiest since you lived on the other side of the city, but he knew that wouldn’t be personal

- he also didn’t wanna arrive at your door in his limo or one of his expensive cars 

- he didn’t want it to come off as him flexing his wealth in an attempt to woo you

- so what did he do? he walked

- this rich boy walked 7 miles to your house

- which was fine until it started to rain

- you heard a gentle knocking at your door and rushed to let him in

- “You’re soaking,” you commented in concern as you ran to the bathroom to get him a towel 

- “I like you,” he got to the point and handed you the dripping bouquet

- you innerly squealed with happiness

- “I like you too!!” you said as you jumped and hugged him around the neck

- you tried to pull away after a second, but he held you there for a moment longer

- “I’m glad you like it,” he said exhausted then sat down on the couch

- drifted off to sleep not much longer aww poor baby

Saeyoung

- you two talked ALL THE MOTHER FUCKING TIME - hung out rarely because his house was a mess and didn’t want to expose you to Mary Vanderwood 

- but there wasn’t a moment where you weren’t texting or facetiming

- which pissed Vanderwood off 

- you face timed which he worked

- you two didn’t talk much during those times, but you appreciated having the company

- at night before bed though was when you two really talked

- he asked about your day and let you talk first

- you could tell he actively listened and truly cared about even the most mundane things that happened that day

- “When you went, did you get the barista you liked?” he asked knowing he hacked into their system to change that person’s hours to when he knew you’d be visiting

- “Yea! I’ve been having him more often now! I’m very happy and my tastebuds are happy too!” You were completely oblivious to his meddling and he thought it was adorable

- one night on facetime, you picked up an hour later then usual and he was upset

- “What’s wrong?” you asked after noticing he had been short with you

- “God dammit M/C I like you and this is the best part of my night! I hate when it’s delayed for one second, let alone an hour,” he complained not knowing he had just admitted his feelings towards you

- “Y-you like me?” you questioned back. you knew you heard him correctly, you just wanted to hear it again.

- “Damn it,” he swore just now noticing his slip up

- you were giggling over the phone

- “What?” he crankily asked, hating the situation thinking you didn’t return the feelings

- “I like you too my defender of justice,” you said while flashing him the biggest smile

- his heart got all warm and happy and all he did was sit and smile in silence for a while

IF YOU WANT ME TO ADD V AND SAERAN MESSAGE ME AND I’LL DO IT TOMORROW BUT IM TIRED RN

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Part 24  (Peter Parker x Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 25,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else. 

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs. 

Total word count: 43,528

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 24:

(Words: 3,391)

After clarifying to Flash that it was not like that, I return to my and Michelle’s room, ice bucket in hand.

It’s brighter now. The light on the nightstand is on and Michelle’s sitting up, eating Twizzlers from a bag she keeps upright with her feet. Her hair is tied back too. On screen, Bella analyzes her bruises and Edward starts an argument.

“Holding out on me, huh?” I ask, gesturing to the candy.

She shrugs and smirks. Another good sign. A great one even, after a long day like today.

“I planned on bartering for some ice, but I waited for forever and there was no one to trade with. What was the hold up?”

I make a pretend distressed face and blow out a long breath as if the story physically pains me. Walking over, I put the ice on the nightstand between our beds and sit on the edge of mine. Peter and Ned’s side of the wall still hasn’t settled: the t.v. noise continues flickering, now at a faster pace. One of them is undoubtedly trying to annoy the other into picking something to watch, and the exchange of incoherent voices seems to support that assumption. 

Part of me wants to check in on them and hang out for a bit, but I need to focus on my current task: explain things clearly to Michelle and give her Flash’s apology. Plus, I’m pretty sure she’s too tired to stay up much longer and I doubt she’d want to be left alone (even if she assures me otherwise). 

Either way, it’s time to tell her about my conversation with Flash.

“You know how, um--” I pause, wondering where the best place to start is. She knows what Flash did, there’s no need for extensive exposition. She raises a curious eyebrow at my hesitation and glances pointedly from the bag between her feet to me as if to say, You can have a Twizzler once you spill. A fair and simple trade. Better to dive right in, then. “You know how Flash blackmailed me this morning? To give up my spot?”

Michelle’s head tilts to the right.

“No?” Her eyebrows scrunch and her lips press together. “I think you forgot to mention that.”

We stare at one another, mutually perplexed and frozen.

Huh. I was certain she had put it together. 

Behind us, Ned shouts muffled words and laughs loudly while his and Peter’s t.v. volume begins to increase. 

“I, uh,” I start, tilting my head too. “I thought you knew.”

“Yeah, I got that from the, ‘You know how’ part of your sentence.”

A beat of silence passes between us; I can tell that’s not the end of her sentence, so I wait. If she had more energy, maybe she would be frustrated with me. Right now though, all she can muster is a look of stunted disbelief, an emotion I’d label the tame, languid cousin of scandal and outrage: a gentle but honest really?, with the edge of a potential eye roll. She plops two ice cubes in her water, takes a sip, then continues.

“How would I know something like that when you never said anything to me?”

The wall gets louder behind us. The boys have resumed their argument it seems. It’s playful, probably, but the t.v. volume is increasing at the same rate as their voices so I can’t distinguish any words to really tell. Michelle notices my distraction. She gives an abrupt smack to the wall as a warning to them.

Her eyes remain level with mine, though, questioning.

“Because,” I say, “you always notice things without people telling you.” 

She pauses again, looking thoughtful. Unable to deny it, she makes an eh sound which translates to true enough, I’ll give you that and her shoulders relax as her eyebrows smooth back into their usual place. She reaches over and extends a Twizzler like an official olive branch. To complete our silent agreement, I move on to exchange my end of the bargain: I tell her the rest of my story.

The sound behind us stagnates right around my second or third sentence, which is an unexpected relief, seeing the boys rarely halt their ridiculousness when they make up their minds to annoy one another. While trying to ignore them and stay on track, my phone buzzes a couple times. Probably Flash, now that we’re on better terms. It’s probably a meme. Unimportant.

Quickly rambling on with only a couple short moments of respite for chewing or sipping water, I go over the rest of the incident. I explain how I ran into Flash, everything we said to each other, his apologies (one for her, one for me) and, of course, how unsettling it was to see him in such casual wear as pajamas. As I talk, tracing back once or twice to recount my version of what happened -- or what I thought had happened -- this morning (and shooting my phone annoyed looks when it buzzes again since it must be him), Michelle eats her licorice as if on autopilot, keeping her face deliberately blank even though I can tell she’s picking through the strings of her old assumptions and matching them up to my own version to compare narrative split ends. 

“You know,” she says after I finish, a half eaten Twizzler dangling from her hand as she waves it to gesture. “You could have double-checked with me this morning, to make sure I actually knew. You would’ve been on that stage with us today if you had. I would’ve confronted him and gotten to the bottom of it all. I would never have just let it happen.”

Fortunately (or unfortunately, I haven’t decided which), I’ve already come to terms with this fact. It was an incredibly stupid mistake to have made -- to have misread both Flash and Michelle -- but it happened and the consequences are over. Today has been irreversibly stamped into the short timeline of my high school career and nothing will change it now. The opportunity was missed. And at least there’s next year. The less I think about it, the better. It’s done.

“True,” I shrug. “But who knows if I would’ve gotten all those questions Flash answered right. Maybe the way it played out was for the best.”

That might as well be true, why not? I offer a devil’s advocate smile and she shakes her head, finally giving into a full eye roll. 

“Don’t remind me. But really, I doubt that. He was good today, but you would’ve been better.”

Would I have been? After all those… distractions from the previous 24 hours, I have no idea if my concentration would have been up to par. All the same, it doesn’t matter anymore. The two of us are on the same page at last and that’s all I have room to care about tonight. We can relax completely. No more tension, no more unanswered questions. No secrets. Well, aside from my teeny tiny stupid one.

I start to move backward, further onto the bed. Then I stop. 

Just because it did work out though, that never really had anything to do with my behavior or the choices I made. I had no idea what would happen. There were multiple reasons I let Flash take my spot this morning, apart from the real fear of nonexistent blackmail, but I still shouldn’t have given up so easily.

I turn and look at her. 

“Really though,” I say, realizing the truth of it, “I’m sorry for bailing. If Flash hadn’t come through, if he froze up like last year, I know it could’ve been... things might not have ended up as well as they did. I hate flaking on you, especially when you worked crazy hard this year. I promise, next time I’ll come to you first.” Michelle’s posture stiffens and she has her subtle, trademark backed into an emotional corner face, the one she makes when someone unexpectedly gets too sincere. Try to make it a little funny, at least. “And, naturally,” I add, leaning back, “I’ll never trust your infinite wisdom and analytical skills again.”

Michelle smiles then. Whether it’s from relief or amusement, I can’t tell, but it’s still the lopsided one I know is genuine. Infectious, I can’t help but return it like a reflex. The final drops of my own relief rush through my veins, rivers of warm comfort settling under my skin. 

“First,” she says, holding up a finger, “there’s no need to doubt me. Technically you were never blackmailed which is why I didn’t catch on, so you can keep faith in my deductive skills. Two,” another finger goes up, “I highly doubt this scenario will happen a second time. Third,” and another, “don’t sweat it.” She waves her hand away.

“But what if it does?” 

Egging each other on is vital to our friendship. Previously unsure if we’d get back to that level of normalcy by tonight, I’m practically perfectly happy knowing we actually have.

“I’ll kick your ass. Naturally.”

Yet again, she offers a Twizzler, this time with a promissory bow. 

Now less hungry and far more relaxed than before I left, we both shuffle back against our headboards and turn our attention to the movie. Leah tells Jacob to get over Bella, and he angstily rants to the younger boys about how relationships are all but prisons. I try to get more comfortable, sliding an extra pillow up behind my back. After a few minutes, my phone vibrates. Oh yeah. I’d almost forgot to check it. I reach over, surprised to find that it hasn’t been Flash.

Peter, 11:03 p.m.:

“Hey. Update: still alive.”

Peter, 11:04 p.m.:

“You?”

Peter, 11:10 p.m.:

“shit... are you dead? have you been kidnapped??”

Peter, 11:12 p.m.:

“:(”

Peter, 11:17 p.m.:

“If you don’t reply soon, beware. Ned is being dumb and annoying. the worst.”

As I read, another pops up:

“You know. like always.”

I hear Ned shout a complaint a second later, though it’s too blurred from the t.v.’s interference to hear his exact words. My lips tug upward a bit. 

The housekeeper interrupts Edward and Bella’s makeout session, staring at him with a mixture of fear and hatred, and they breathe-laugh until she leaves. 

I type back: Alive, safe and sound. I consider writing, But barely. I ran into Flash a few minutes ago. I don’t though, knowing it would only aggravate him without purpose. Plus I don’t want to go over it again, especially the particulars. It’s boring at this point. It was boring to begin with, and now after verbalizing it once, it would be exhausting. Instead, I type: It sounds loud over there. How come? 

His bubbles spring up immediately.

“See above.”

“Ned = annoying.”

There’s a small crunch from their room, like a water half empty bottle hitting someone.

Knowing those two, Peter probably read the insult aloud to Ned as payback for their t.v. argument, if Ned wasn’t already reading over his shoulder.

I reply: “Ned? Never. He’s an angel and we’re thrilled to have him.”

As expected, a few seconds later I hear a distant whooping sound and the shadow of Ned shouting something grateful and co-conspiratorial to me.

In reply, Peter sends back three eye rolling emojis. 

At the same second I send a shrug, his bubbles turn into: “btw I have a really great idea”

An idea? For what? Even though the wording is positive, it makes me nervous.

“?”

Four messages follow, one after the other, as quickly as he can type them.

“Okay so hear me out”

“I know you don’t like Freud…”

“BUT”

“Operant. Conditioning.”

The bubbles disappear. 

What? 

This makes no sense to me. Is it supposed to? We haven’t discussed operant conditioning in Psych for months. And, now might not be the time for me to point it out, but he’s mixed up in the first place. 

Unable to resist and not knowing what else to say, I send back: “You mean Skinner?”

The bubbles start up, then stop. Twenty-ish seconds later:

“You got me there. +3 points! but what do you think?”

Despite the background noise of Bella vomiting peanut butter chicken legs into a toilet, the “+3 points” nearly makes me laugh. We haven’t played that game (if you could even call it a game) in months.

“Peter,” I type. “Context is important, remember? No clue what you mean”

Figuring said context will take a few minutes, I put my phone back down and look up at the movie. Maybe I imagine it, but Michelle’s head seems to twitch when I do. It might’ve been a small jump from seeing the kick in Bella’s stomach matched with the suspenseful music.

Buzz. Pause. Buzz. Longer pause…. Buzz.

Three is usually Peter’s go-to, so I check it.

Peter:

“I know you’re going to say you’re not mad at me anymore, but you deserve to be and probably are a little bit subconsciously or unconsciously (idk which is which so +2 to you before you correct me)” 

“so in order to get our friendship back to normal I think we should try operant conditioning” 

“Like me doing nice stuff when I see you so you think ‘oh wow I get to see peter today! how cool! love that guy, he’s the best!’ when really it’s just me pyshcologically tricking you into positive associate by giving you snacks when you come by my locker”

Another pops up: “Psychologically* Im dumb”

And another: “I’m*** smh”

I stare.

That’s possibly the worst idea I’ve ever heard. The last thing I need are more reasons to look forward to seeing Peter. I mean, the part he quoted isn’t all that far off from how my brain usually reacts when I see him. Simplified, for sure, but a similar sentiment nonetheless. 

I wrack my brain for a response, trying to block out Edward’s shaky Portuguese begging. “Sure, you can try your best.” No. Sarcastic and challenging is definitely the wrong approach here. “Maybe. Talk about it later?” That could work. It might also mean he brings it up on the bus tomorrow, potentially resulting in unpredictable reactions from anyone who overhears. I’d rather people not know so much about our personal post-fight dynamics. “I’ll think about it.” That one’s neutral enough.

Still... it’s basically a promise to talk about it soon, which means I have to think about it now and knowing myself, I’ll likely try to puzzle out his plans, imagining dozens of scenarios before I can sleep tonight, allowing his general plan to start working before it even begins, given that I’m fully aware of how considerate and generous he can be when he decides to make an effort. If I spend tonight creating stupid Peter clumsily attempting to display kindness and affection scenes in my head, it’ll just end up… being overwhelming. It’ll worsen this inconvenient, impossible crush.

Or, maybe my expectations will simply go too far and that’s how I’ll ruin it. I’ll agree to this idea now, and by the end of the week or month or whatever the timeframe is, I’ll be disappointed at the reality. Yes, that’s most likely. I’ll read too much into it, as always, and my brain will make it all more painful than necessary.

So instead, I type: 

“Subconscious. Unconscious would be trauma related, memories your brain hides from you and whatnot. You weren’t *that* awful. And I think you mean classical conditioning?”

Sent.

I’m the worst, sometimes. 

I wait for his response with a taste of guilt. His bubbles appear immediately, then evaporate. Again, Ned and Peter’s voices mingle with the t.v. flipping sounds, trampling heavily over the somber music and hum of Jacob’s motorcycle coming from ours.

Just say you agree, part of my brain argues. It’s not that hard. Or say no flat out. Explain yourself to some degree, otherwise you’re an avoidant coward.

I lift my phone, about to type. 

Then, a plastic crunch hits behind my head. Either Peter or Ned definitely just threw a water bottle at my side of the wall. 

Michelle turns to look at me, left eyebrow raised in amusement. Her eyes flit from me to my phone to the headboard.

“What’d you do?” she asks.

Before I can open my mouth to speak, music blasts at a deafening volume behind us: someBODY ONCE TOLD ME, THE WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME. I half jump from shock, phone flying out of my grasp, and Michelle immediately hits the wall with her open hand. I AIN’T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHED. Ned’s laughter is the only thing I can hear besides the Shrek soundtrack. SHE WAS LOOKING KIND OF DUMB WITH HER FINGER AND HER THUMB--

As I hop off the bed and retrieve my phone from the floor, Michelle speedily unlocks hers.

The song continues pounding for about eight seconds. Thankfully, however, by the grace of god (or Michelle, I suppose), it lowers. I’m about to text Peter when Ned appears on her phone directly across from her face, his own face turned, half out of frame.

“Come on, Peter!” he shouts, head shaking in melodramatic pity. “Turn it down, seriously! You’re so obnoxious!”

Peter makes an indignant noise.

“That was all you!” he protests, his voice more distant in the background. “You’re the obnoxious one!”

Ned rolls his eyes and turns back to face the camera.

“Anyway,” he says with his usual grin and cheerful charm, “hi MJ. How’s it going? We’re just--”

“Guys,” calls Peter’s voice, “I swear I tried to take the remote from him!”

“-- hanging out,” Ned continues, bulldozing on, “you know, over here. Chilling, one might say. Celebrating.” 

Michelle squints at him as if mentally weighing the value of continuing this conversation. 

“What if,” she suggests, “you did that in a way that doesn’t tempt me to report you two to Mr. Harrington?”

Ned starts to respond in a fake scandalized tone, but Peter jumps into frame and shoves him to the side for a chance to speak, the camera shaking as he fumbles and grabs it.

“Again, just to restate, I didn’t do anything-- Ned was the one messing with the t.v. the whole time.”

Ned pushes Peter’s face with one hand and yanks his phone back with the other, Peter disappearing momentarily before popping right back up behind him just as the camera steadies.

“You can ask your roommate,” Peter says to Michelle with his arms open wide in surrender. “I’ve been texting her for the last ten minutes. I couldn’t have been messing with the t.v. at the same time.”

The mention of our conversation jolts my pulse a smidge. 

Michelle looks my way.

“It’s true,” I say. “But I don’t know if it irrefutably proves he didn’t do it, seeing as he has two hands and all.”

She nods and looks back at them. Her face, only minutes ago full of sly joy (and the rollercoaster of emotions with which she reacted to the Flash story) remains unamused.

“Overruled.”

Ned ha!’s in his face, but Peter barely seems to notice aside from a distracted shoulder shove.

“Actually, can you point me in her direction?”

Michelle does, and I sit up a bit straighter, feeling strangely unprepared.

He inhales as if he’s about to say something longer and more serious, but instead, after a short pause, all he says is: “You suck. Minus ten points.”

The screen goes black. Whether he or Ned ended the call is hard to tell.

Knowing exactly what he means though, I reach for my phone to text him a real answer to his question, hoping to minimize my guilt and satiate his curiosity. 

“Should I ask?” Michelle tosses her phone onto her bed.

Might as well explain it now rather than later.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, partially to convince myself that it isn’t. “Peter pitched an idea to help fix our friendship. He wants to psychologically condition me to look forward to being around him. Snacks or something.”

Her eyes widen slightly before rolling. I realize my word choice is poor (though accurate). 

“And?”

I lean my head back against the headboard.

“It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Part 25

Next update: ... next Friday? Let’s hope.

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@spideymood @solarspidey​ @tiffanypooh @carrotsunshine  @breebree1198 @idontlooklikereginageorge @stumb1ing @bit-bot0711  @justthatshortlittlenerd  @avzuzu   @melonmochi   @happysynonym @the-redthread  @i-love-superhero @ohgloryyy-blog @nicunty @pxrrished @shugr12110629 @realitykilledtheteen @thehanneloner @lionfart   @tryn25 @slythergirlimagines @twentyjuanpancakes @hollandorks  @littlekay15  @hi-mishamigos  @eversweet-imagines  @thisisthetragicstoryofme @augurydemon @daisy-john @siriuspadfoot14 @debiwolf-t @casual-vaporwave @swimmeranxiety @dangerousluv1 @piggygamer103  @ghosthiam @homecomjng  @deep-thoughts-in-the-shower @bughead-isendgame @qu3en-of-letters @brightcolorsoffendme @cutehollands @enoumen-t  @dottirose @justthatshortlittlenerd  @thatgirlthatlikesmarvel @moonofmy-life @royal1958  @ashleyhearto   @pinkleopardss @cutie1365  @spideyschmood @dragoste-lunes @peterparkley  @gold-masks @stonesandskeletonbones @myhealingstar @cancerous-lizard666  @a-typical-antisocial-fangirl   @love-and-protect-bucky-barnes @fangirldreamsandstuff  @fandom-stuff  @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @jellzu  @aussie-mantle @stevieboyharrington  @septicquill @thingfromlove  @dude-whatawave   @me-a-hopeless-romantic @condy-wants-a-cookie  @susurrantsoul  @kawaii-girl-101  @lxstneverfound  @ukulele-tea-and-ocean @tepidtrash @emilymarie0422 @styles-bucks @shortstack-ofpancakes @lilbeatlebear @imyourdadssideblog  @the-introverted-loner-art @marvelcuties @lesdragly @atomic-chickenwings  @reanne @schwankyblock @nedthegay @kateelyse96 @outsider-underwater @omg-lexiloveyou @le-yona  @desteweirdo @thingfromlove