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prettyboongi · 4 years

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Slow and Steady

Reader x Jeon Jungkook

Word Count: 2,288

Genre: Smut (like the bulk of this is pure smut, I wish I was kidding lol), some crack

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Explicit sex (what more can I say?)

Summary: While spending some time with Jungkook’s parents, the question of grandchildren is suddenly brought up. What will this lead to...?

[A/N: So this was one of those fics that stayed in my mind for awhile and I have to plot figured out in my head. But the challenge was actually writing it out. I realized that I waited too long to get this done and finally got myself to sit down and wrote whatever I felt right. I’m not too experienced writing smut so I’m kinda embarrassed putting this out haha. But nevertheless, I would like to thank @jjk-oppa for this request, I’m so sorry for taking so long and I really hope you like this sweetie!]

Recently, Jungkook made the huge decision to go on a long hiatus. Being a former member of a successful idol group, Jungkook was blessed to find even more success as a solo artist.

But even as popular and beloved as he was, he started to feel a bit burnt out. He was in his early thirties now and didn’t have as much energy for performing as he did as a young 20 year old. He thought going on a long break would allow him to take care of himself and explore different passions. And best of all, he will get to spend more time with you, his loving wife of three years.

To better kick off his hiatus, the both of you decide to go to Busan to visit his parents. While there, the two of you and his parents made the most of the visit. On the first day, Jungkook took you around his favorite childhood spots and took you and his folks out for a nice dinner. On the second day, you and Mrs. Jeon spent most of the afternoon cooking, your mother-in-law even teaching you family recipes. While the two of you bonded, Jungkook and his father spent the day out and reconnected with old friends.

This was exactly Jungkook needed. He needed this time to reconnect with his old self and take the time to appreciate the little, but important things in life. And having a wife like you by his side made it all the better.

On that second night there, the four of you were enjoying a nice homemade dinner at home -courtesy of both you and Mama Jeon.

Conversation was going great until Mrs. Jeon brings up something she’s been meaning to ask.

“Jungkook, when are you and Y/N going to give us grandkids?”

Jungkook chokes on his water while your eyes widen at such an abrupt question.

“What brought this up?” Jungkook asks, wiping the mouth with the back of his hand.

His mother innocently beams at the both of us. “Well, you two have been married for a while now. Don’t you think it’s time.”

You turned your head to Jungkook, who looked completely mortified, then looked back to your mother in law.

“Uh, well we had talked about having children before,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “but with Jungkook being busy with his career, it’s been hard to, you know, focus on that.”

Mrs. Jeon dismissively shook her head. “But now he’s taking a break, isn’t he? So, it’s a perfect time.”

You didn’t have a choice but nod at your persistent mother in law. You then tried to focus on finishing your food, hoping to end this embarrassing conversation.

Staying quiet for the most part, your father in law finally spoke up. “Yeah, you two hurry up and have kids already. Before I become too old to play with them.”

Later that night, the two of you were getting settled into bed in the guest room. Jungkook was changing into his pajamas while you were sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing lotion onto your legs.

There was an awkward silence between you two. You were still pretty embarrassed from the evening’s conversation. And if you were embarrassed, you knew that Jungkook felt way worse.

After a long moment, Jungkook finally broke the silence.

“Hey,” he began, “I’m really sorry about dinner. You know how my mom can be sometimes.”

You turned your body slightly to face him. “It’s fine. I know that it came from a good place.”

Another moment of silence fills the room before you speak up again.

“Honey, do you truly wanna have kids?”

“Of course, Y/N, I just been so busy-”

“Better yet,” you interrupted him, “do you wanna have kids… with me?”

A puzzled look flashed on Jungkook’s face. “What kind of question is that?” he lets outs a laugh, “You’re the love of my life. I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.”

You smile soft at his sweet words. “That’s good to know. Because I don’t think I could’ve chosen anyone better to be the father of my future children.”

Jungkook has always been crazy about you. But it was at that moment that he never wanted you so bad since your wedding night.

Jungkook walks over to you on the edge of the bed. Cupping your face, he slowly leans in and places his soft lips on yours. Your hands slide upward from his defined chest to his strong shoulders, pulling him more towards to deepen the kiss. It doesn’t take that long for your kiss to become passionate as the two of you savored in each other’s taste and continuously crashed your lips against each other. Jungkook took his tattooed hands off your face to grab at your hips while your fingers twirls his shiny black locks. You gingerly bit and licked his lower lips and, in response, he suddenly forced his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan into his.

Eventually Jungkook broke away from your lips and looked at you with such intensity in his eyes.

“I want you so bad, Y/N,” he whispers seductively.

The huskiness in his voice made you want to melt right then and there. Two of have been together for so many years and he still never fails to warm and tingly inside.

He grabbed your hips once again and guided your back on the queen sized bed. While hovering above you, Jungkook leans to kiss you for the second time. Your mind is lost in total lust; the feel of his tongue aggressively playing with yours made your private region increasingly wet. Still keeping his mouth on yours, Jungkook slid his hands under your oversized t-shirt and started kneading your perky breasts, paying special attention to your hard nips.

Feeling the special care done on your tits, you started to sinfully sigh into his ear. Instinctively, you rubbed your thighs together, adding pleasure to your aroused pussy.

“Please,” you said breathlessly, “just fuck me, Kookie.” Hearing her use that nickname she exclusively uses during intimate moments like this, he got the message that you were absolutely ready.

With his hands still massaging your breasts, he asks you, “Do you really need me to fuck you, baby?” Soundlessly, you nod in response.

On that cue, Jungkook sits up and gets off the bed. “Before I fuck you, I want you to suck me off.” He pulls down his plaid pajama pants, revealing his engorged cock. Obediently, you moved yourself closer to his large member. Your fingers gently massage the base of his cock as you begin to lick the already leaking tip. Slowly but surely, you’re able to engulf his entire penis into your mouth. It is then, you diligently went to work on him. Jungkook did his hardest to keep his moans low, but the way you were sucking him and the feel of your wet tongue on his cock drove him nearly insane. He grabbed your hair and moved your head in a bobbing motion.

“Fucking God, Y/N,” he says between pants, “Can I come in your mouth?” With your mouth filled with him, all you could do was nod in approval. With one final thrust in your mouth, he came down your throat and you immediately swallowed.

He suddenly pulls you by your underarms and clashes his lips to your, sucking all of the leftover spit and cum off your mouth. He didn’t know why but he really loved tasting himself on you. You grab the hem of your shirt and tug it over your head. Jungkook eyes your beautiful naked body before nearly tackling you on the bed. He pulled the last of the clothing you had on -your panties- and gazed at your lying figure.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, Y/N,” he sputters out.

Getting shy, you blushed and looked away from him. It absolutely drove Jungkook crazy whenever he saw you get all bashful before him. Without warning, he flips you over and gets you into the doggy style position. He slightly lifts up your hips and slowly enters you from behind.

“Mmm,” you quietly groaned.

Once fully inside you, he repeatedly pumped in and out of you, gradually picking up speed. The faster he goes, the more you find yourself a whimpering mess. You covered your mouth with your hand, muffling your loud moans.

After a few minutes of rough pounding, he goes farther inside you, hitting your sweet spot.

“Ah!,” you cried out.

“You like that, babygirl?,” he asks in a low voice.

“Yes,” you answered weakly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I like it.” You loudly gulped from salivating so much. “Please go deeper.”

Without skipping a beat, he pushes himself farther inside you. He knew that you loved it when he fucked you at a slower but much deeper pace.

You bite your lower lip to keep yourself quiet but it didn’t stop your moans spilling out. You pushed your towards him, ultimately finding a rhythm with him.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good, baby,” he grunts. He finds his hand on your nipples and gives them a slight tug. This causes you to involuntarily clench around him.

The room is soon filled by the two of your’s frantic panting, while trying not to be too loud for anyone to hear.

“I’m gonna cum again, Y/N,” you hear Jungkook say.

“Come with me then.”

After a few more deep pumps, you feel your orgasm explode through our body as well as your husband’s burning cock pulsating inside you. You two ride out the last of your climax before Jungkook slowly pulls out you. You can feel his load spilling inside of you.

Tired and sweaty, Jungkook collapses on your equally damp form and the both of you end up passing out from your hard work.

Hours later, you wake up with Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your waist. You looked out the window and saw that dawn was just breaking. Despite the majority of the sweat from before had already evaporated, you still felt sticky and gross. Gently lifting Jungkook arms off you, you quietly got off the bed. You walked towards your suitcase by the door and pulled out your white bathroom. As you slip the robe on you, you hear Jungkook shifting on the bed. Looking back, you find him sitting up, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning, honey,” you sweetly greet him.

“Morning,” he groggily answers back. “What’re you up so early?”

“Oh, I’m just about to hop in the shower.” You stop and think for a moment. “Um, do you wanna join me?”

With that question, Jungkook is now fully awake. Taking a shower together? At his folks home? I mean, having sex was already risky enough. He thought about declining the offer, but then he remembered the fun you two had earlier. And then he saw how good you looked in your bathrobe.

He cheekily smiles at you. “Sure, why not?”

Even though you knew his parents were still asleep, the both of you stealthily walked to the bathroom down the hall and locked the door behind you.

Minutes later, the two of you are at it again: passionately making out inside the shower stall. Your hands gripped at Jungkook’s back as the hot water turned the entire bathroom into a sauna. With your back on the wall, Jungkook grabs the back of your knees and lifts your thighs to the sides of his hips. You respond by tightly wrapping your legs around him and your arms around his neck. Jungkook proceed to fucking you senseless like before, roughly pounding you while gripping your shapely waist.

Thinking the shower was loud enough to muffle any other sounds, you let out all of the shouts and moans you had to hold in hours before.

“YES JUNGKOOK! FUCK ME! PLEASE DON’T STOP!”

Jungkook was too busy enjoying your tight pussy to notice that you were being a little too loud.

When you feel the heat of your orgasm, you let out a small shriek and quiet yourself by biting onto Jungkook's shoulder. Jungkook hissed in pain and came inside of you once again.

The intensity of it all was a bit overwhelming, so much that you were tearing up. Jungkook notices your teary eyes and smiles.

“I love you, Y/N.”

All choked up, you somehow managed to respond. “I love you too..”

Later in the morning, you and Jungkook were enjoying a nice breakfast with his parents. The two of you were super upbeat and practically glowing, thanks to your night and early morning of passion. As you two ate and conversated with his parents, you two played footsie under the table as if you were young kids in love.

“So was your sleep last night,” Mrs. Jeon asked before taking a bit of her food.

You and Jungkook exchanged looks and smiled playfully.

“Yeah, we have a very peaceful night’s sleep,” you slyly answered, “Right hon.”

Jungkook mumbles in agreement, his mouth too filled with food.

Mr.Jeon snickers to himself. “Yeah, sure you two did.” You and Jungkook's eyes widened at the old man. You watched your mother in law hit her husband's shoulder roughly and glared at him.

It doesn’t take long for you to put everything together. “They heard us,” you screamed in your head, “they fucking heard us!”

You hid your face in your hands, “Oh God…”

Mrs. Jeon nervously laughs. “Don’t be embarrassed sweetheart. We’re just happy we’re gonna be grandparents soon.” She shoots you a kind smile but you just wanted to die.

Thank god today was the last day of the so-called “much needed” visit.

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juniorgman187 · 4 years

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Luck of the Universe (Spencer Reid Screenplay)

Season 9 Reid deserves more recognition. Definitely one of my fav looks/seasons. So I wrote about it :)

Summary: Years after Spencer saves Maggie’s life, they reunite unexpectedly. Maggie thinks it’s fate; Spencer does not. She challenges him and says they’ll meet again, even without intending to. They do meet again, but not under favorable circumstances. Maggie’s life is in danger and Spencer must save her . . . again.

Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Angst, Fluff, Screenplay Content Warning: Profanity, pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, violence, death Word Count: 10.5k

DISCLAIMER: This was originally a screenplay but was adapted to have a more cohesive appearance on Tumblr.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Spencer Reid sits outside a cafe to enjoy his beachside view from a coffee shop. Foreign to California’s sun, Spencer has aloe and sunscreen packed with him. He even wears sunglasses wherever he goes. While he patiently waits for the arrival of his coffee, he reads The Narrative of John Smith. The exact copy that Maeve gave him over a year ago.

Serving his coffee is Maggie. This event will single handedly change both of their lives forever.

MAGGIE: Let me know if I can get you anything else.

As she sets down the cup, Reid thanks her, and out of politeness, he tilts his head forward ever so slightly so that his glasses will shift to the bridge of his nose. This way she can see his eyes. And when she does see his eyes, they are so familiar to her, but she can’t place where she remembers them from. Spencer notices her looking at him.

MAGGIE: Oh sorry, you just looked really familiar.

SPENCER: Actually we have met before. I’m the agent that, um, saved you.

Maggie stands there for a moment in complete disbelief.

MAGGIE: Oh my God, yes! No, I totally remember you now. Wow. Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner I’m -

SPENCER: Maggie.

Maggie peers down at her name tag and gives him a funny look.

SPENCER: No, I genuinely do remember you, and I didn’t just read your name tag. Um I have what’s called an eidetic memory. I’m able to recall things with high precision, even if it was a brief period of time on one occasion.

MAGGIE: Really? That’s incredible. I wish I could say the same. All I could remember after being resuscitated was your eyes. I meant to thank you, by the way, for saving me, but at the time I was too in shock. I went to the police department the next day trying to find you, but you weren’t there. And as it turns out, it’s not so easy searching for a pair of hazel eyes.

Spencer smiles.

SPENCER: I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m a Supervisory Special Agent with the Behavior Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia.

Hearing his name completely changes her. She says it to herself in disbelief. For years she’s wondered who he was, and now she knows.

MAGGIE: So what brings you back to California?

SPENCER: We finished a case here earlier. I’m just killing time until I go back by reading.

MAGGIE: May I?

Maggie extends her hand to ask for the book politely. Spencer hands it to Maggie. She recognizes it almost immediately.

MAGGIE: Oh, I love Arthur Conan Doyle. This is just one of those novels I wish I could read again for the first time.

Spencer doesn’t respond, he’s just so enamored by the way she thinks and speaks. She misinterprets his silence as a sign that he’d rather not keep talking.

MAGGIE: I should probably let you get back to reading. I wouldn’t want to keep you from the opinionated Everyman John Smith. I hope you have a safe travel home.

Maggie begins to get up from her chair.

SPENCER: Wait um, I don’t normally ask this, but I still have a few hours until my flight and I’d really love to keep talking with you so do you think maybe we could go somewhere or -

MAGGIE: I would love to, but I’m working until the closing shift tonight.

SPENCER: Oh okay.

Maggie is conflicted. Against her better judgement, she agrees.

MAGGIE: You know what? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.

Excitement rises in Spencer. When Maggie goes into the coffee shop, he tries to contain himself. He fixes his hair and straightens out his cardigan and tie. Maggie comes back out.

MAGGIE: Ever been to the pier?

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are looking out onto the ocean from the pier. It’s one of the rare times that they aren’t being swallowed by a huge crowd. It’s just them, a few other people, and the sunset. An ocean breeze blows through, making Maggie shiver and bump into Spencer.

MAGGIE: My bad. Sorry.

SPENCER: Do you want my -

MAGGIE: No, no I’m fine.

Spencer ignores her statement and drapes his cardigan around her. Though she would never admit it, it sort of smells like him - and it’s the most comforting smell in the world.

MAGGIE: It’s beautiful isn’t it?

Maggie says while looking out to the sunset.

SPENCER: Yeah, it is.

He says while looking at her.

After a couple seconds, she notices him staring, looks at him, smiles, and nudges him.

MAGGIE: It’s getting late. We should head back.

Spencer follows close behind as Maggie leads the way.

MAGGIE: I wish we could’ve hung out longer, but I don’t want to leave Tony running the shop alone for too long and I wouldn’t want you to miss your flight.

SPENCER: For what it’s worth, I enjoyed the little time we did spend together.

MAGGIE: I did, too.

SPENCER: So maybe, when I’m back here, we could make plans.

MAGGIE: I’ll look forward to your return then.

Maggie and Spencer walk a little longer in a comfortable silence, until finally they’re back at the coffee shop.

MAGGIE: Do you have a pen?

Spencer hesitates for a moment, but ultimately, has to place his hand on Maggie’s hip to retrieve the pen inside the pocket. This gesture startles her and causes her to remember that she was wearing his cardigan.

MAGGIE: Oh sorry, I forgot that I was wearing this.

SPENCER: No keep it. It looks better on you anyway. Consider it an early birthday gift. September 8 right?

MAGGIE: How did you- Oh right. Eidetic memory.

Spencer hands her the pen and Maggie reaches for a napkin from the table and writes her number on it.

MAGGIE: So if you’re ever insanely bored at 3 a.m. or you’re not busy saving someone’s life, call me.

Spencer takes the napkin.

SPENCER: Will do.

He tries to mask how excited he really is.

Maggie heads back inside, but stops herself at the door. She turns back to Spencer.

MAGGIE: (genuinely asking) Do you know how often people reconnect without intending to after years of not seeing each other?

SPENCER: Not very often I suppose.

MAGGIE: This could very well just be a huge coincidence, but it really feels like some luck of the universe that I’m talking to you right now. And I think we’ll be seeing each other soon again.

Spencer’s intrigued. As a doctor, he’s pragmatic. Romantic notions such as destiny and luck - he wasn’t a believer of. Even God, he was skeptical of. But he wanted to see Maggie again, even if that meant he had to agree that it was fate after all.

SPENCER: And if we don’t?

Maggie pauses to answer his question.

MAGGIE: Then we will eventually.

Before Maggie opens the door, she notices Spencer pulling money out of his pocket to pay for his coffee. She stops him.

MAGGIE: It’s on the house.

She says with a small smile that’s returned with a grin that creeps upon Spencer’s face. When she fully enters the cafe, Spencer is left alone with his thoughts.

. . .

It’s the next day. The BAU is seated at the round table. Penelope is presenting the case. Reid’s momentarily distracted. He plays with the napkin in his book. It’s the napkin with Maggie’s number on it. His fixation lasts for so long that he misses the presentation entirely. It’s only when JJ asks him a question directly does he tune in and snap out of his trance.

REID: What was the question?

Reid shifts in his seat uncomfortably and tries to hide his confusion by opening up the case file.

ROSSI: You’ve been awfully quiet this morning. A little too quiet. Care to share?

REID: Nothing. Just thinking.

He’s lying and they all know it. The team exchanges suspicious glances.

REID: Sorry, Garcia, could you repeat it one more time?

GARCIA: Why of course! Anything for you, Boy Wonder. A week ago, Brynn Dryer disappeared from her home late at night. 48 hours after she was reported missing, a couple jogging past a lake found her body. In the M.E’s report, there was a terrifyingly large amount of evidence that she was brutally beaten and clubbed. The official C.O.D was blunt force trauma to the head and the lake was nothing more than a disposal site. Less than a day later, Eliza O’ Hara went missing after someone invaded her home. Yesterday local P.D found her in the middle of a field by the highway. Same M.O. The police department is anticipating that when you land, another girl will go missing.

Spencer notices something.

REID: Wait, can you put their pictures side by side?

Garcia does so. Spencer makes a connection.

JJ: What is it, Spence?

REID: The similarities between the two victims are uncanny. Notice the eye color, skin tone, hair style, even down to the freckles they have.

BLAKE: Alright so he’s got an aggression toward brown eyed, tan brunettes with bangs and freckles.

ROSSI: And I have an aggression toward telemarketers but you don’t see me clubbing them to death.

HOTCH: The cooling off period between kills is getting shorter. He’s escalating and we’re going to put a stop to this before he hits his stride. Garcia, you’re coming with us. Wheels up in 30.

The team is leaving the round table.

. . .

The team is on the flight.

HOTCH: JJ, as soon as we land, I need you setting up a press conference to let the women in the area know to be vigilant. After that, we’ll interview the family’s of Eliza and Brynn. I need Blake and Reid working on the geographical profile. Dave, you and Morgan will take a closer look at the bodies and see if you can’t gather more information. And Garcia,

GARCIA: Yes, sir?

HOTCH: Find as many more connections between these women as you can, and contact any other women who fit the victimology.

GARCIA: Yes, sir.

ROSSI: Apparently, it'll be 101 degrees when we land. Remind me again why people live in California?

Reid perks up. He didn’t even know he was going back to California. But now that he does, he’s even more on edge.

. . .

Reid works on the geographical profile, while Blake assists from her chair. There’s something off about Reid, and she’s about to find out what.

BLAKE: Hey, you alright, Reid? You seem like you’re a million miles away.

Reid stops working on the map. He turns around to face Blake.

REID: I met this girl yesterday. She was actually a former victim I resuscitated. And before I left, she said she had a feeling we would see each other again soon.

Spencer pauses and purses his lips.

SPENCER: She looks just like the other victims.

BLAKE: So you’re worried that when you see her again, it’ll be because of this case.

REID: Do . . . do you think I could call her? To let her know.

BLAKE: I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to break the rules if I were you, but I can’t, in good conscience, advise you to let her know what’s happening. By doing so, you’re giving her an advantage other people don’t have. If she tunes into JJ’s press conference, I’m sure she’ll be safe.

REID: I thought Maeve was gonna be safe too. Look how that turned out.

Blake is at a loss for words. Here she is, the linguist, and yet she can’t find the right words to tell Reid to comfort him.

. . .

JJ sits beside Garcia as Garcia sets up her system.

JJ: Spence has been acting really weird today.

GARCIA: So it’s not just me! I knew something must’ve been wrong because earlier on the flight, I asked if he wanted to play online chess with me and he said no. Can you believe that? I know he’s all anti-tech and everything, but he’s never passed up a game of chess. So that’s why I’ve already done some digging.

JJ gives Garcia the face of “You shouldn’t have done that.”

GARCIA: Okay, but before you say I shouldn’t have, you should see this.

Garcia pulls up a small window on her computer to show to JJ. JJ is shocked.

JJ: A three hour call with his mom last night? Could’ve just been his regular check in.

GARCIA: See that’s what I thought, too, but look.

Garcia scrolls further up the call list.

JJ: He hasn’t called his mom in months.

GARCIA: We all know Reid tells everything to his mom. Something must’ve happened yesterday.

Unbeknownst to Garcia and JJ, Reid walks in.

REID: Hey, guys - what’re you looking at?

It’s too late now. Reid’s already seen it.

REID: You’re keeping tabs on me now? How long have you been monitoring me? Huh?

Anger possesses Reid.

GARCIA: Just since this morning. I only looked at your call history briefly.

REID: Unbelievable.

JJ: We were just worried about you. We all are. There’s obviously something going on.

REID: So then ask me about it. Ever thought of that?

JJ: We’re sorry.

REID: Yeah no, I’m fine, thanks for asking.

Reid storms off from JJ and Garcia.

. . .

Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan all meet Garcia, JJ, and Blake before delivering the profile. Spencer’s missing.

MORGAN: Where’s Pretty boy?

BLAKE: I thought he was going to talk to Jennifer and Garcia.

GARCIA: He did, but something happened . . . he was upset and left. I thought maybe he went back to working on the geo-profile.

HOTCH: Garcia, when did you last speak to him?

GARCIA: Oh, I don’t know, sir, um, maybe fifteen minutes ago?

HOTCH: Morgan, go find Reid. We’ll deliver the profile.

MORGAN: Where should I be looking?

BLAKE: He went to a coffee shop yesterday. I’m not sure which one, but it’s a start.

. . .

Reid is frantically entering the coffee shop. He scans the room for Maggie but doesn’t see her.

TONY: Hey, what can I get for you?

SPENCER: Is Maggie here?

TONY: Who’s asking?

SPENCER: (flashing his badge) I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI. Let me ask you again, where’s Maggie?

TONY: Didn’t show up today.

SPENCER: Did she call in sick?

TONY: Nope.

SPENCER: When was the last time you saw her?

TONY: Last night when we were working the closing shift.

SPENCER: Do you know how she got home?

TONY: She walked. I tried to offer her a ride, but she said she likes to walk. Something about clearing the mind.

SPENCER: Did she walk alone?

TONY: Mhm.

Spencer’s mind swirls. He is living his worst nightmare all over again. When he turns around and sees Derek pulling up. Reid rushes out of the coffee shop and hops into the passenger seat immediately. Derek doesn’t even question it.

REID: Drive. I need Garcia on the phone.

Derek dials her.

GARCIA: Did you find Rei-

REID: (cutting her off) Garcia, I need you to look up Magnolia Tate. Get me her address.

MORGAN: What is it, Reid?

REID: She didn’t show up to work today. Her coworker said the last time he saw her was when she was walking home. She fits the victimology. Garcia, the address?

GARCIA: 178 Citrus Boulevard. Be safe.

REID: Thank you, Garcia.

GARCIA: Of course. And, Reid?

REID: Yeah?

GARCIA: I’m really super-duper sorry about earlier.

REID: It’s fine. I know you guys were just looking out for me.

Reid can sense Garcia smiling through the phone so he promptly hangs up knowing their business is resolved.

MORGAN: Reid, there is a good chance this could just be a coincidence.

REID: I’m telling you - nothing with this girl is just a coincidence.

MORGAN: Well, have you called her yet?

REID: No.

MORGAN: Then call her now, Reid.

REID: I can’t.

MORGAN: Yes, you can.

REID: I can’t.

MORGAN: Why not?

REID: I’m scared that if I call her, I won’t be able to stop, and I’ll want to keep talking to her, but I can’t do that. Not when I know what it’s like loving something death can touch.

MORGAN: Is this about Maeve?

REID: It’s always about Maeve! Morgan, I watched her die in front of me. And just knowing that right now I could be in the same position -

MORGAN: Listen, I know how guilty you feel about Maeve. Man, I feel guilty about her, too, but you gotta understand that if this is connected to our case, you’re gonna save her. Trust me on this.

REID: Yeah, okay.

MORGAN: So how do you two know each other?

REID: She was actually a previous victim of ours. Nearly a decade ago, I performed CPR after her ex-boyfriend pushed her off the boat, bound and gagged. They were out on the lake watching the Fourth of July firework show, but a witness recognized her from the news, which ultimately saved her life. Prior to that, he killed practically all of her next of kin because he believed they were responsible for the restraining order she filed against him.

MORGAN: Why’d he risk taking her out in public?

REID: He was recreating their first date. How do you not remember this?

MORGAN: Actually, now that you mention it, I do remember the case. Cause you made that stupid joke that he was trying to reignite a spark.

Reid makes an offended/sad face. Morgan smiles.

REID: You know, taking into consideration how much emotional trauma we’ve been through combined, there is a very real possibility that our relationship would be, for lack of a better word, doomed. She has no parents, my mom has schizophrenia. We’ve both been held hostage. I’ve been hospitalized, and she’s potentially been abducted for a second time.

MORGAN: Seems like the perfect fit to me.

REID: I’m being serious.

MORGAN: I am, too.

REID: Statistically, 40% of all long distance relationships end up failing in some way, including relationships where the partners are married. And of that 40%, 70% of these failures occur because of unplanned circumstances that happen to one of the participants in a relationship. Unplanned circumstances are practically a part of our line of work. Not to mention, most long distance relationships survive on two in-person visits per month. But relying on getting two cases in California per month is completely unrealistic.

MORGAN: Kid, you can give me all the statistics and numbers to convince me why you shouldn’t be together, but the one thing you haven’t said is that you don’t like her.

REID: Fine, I don’t like her.

MORGAN: Then why am I driving to her house?

Reid pauses, not ready to admit he’s wrong.

REID: Because this could be a lead on the case.

MORGAN: Whatever you say, Pretty Boy.

After a long period of time, Reid finally speaks.

REID: At first, I only noticed her because she looked like Maeve. Even when we were talking, it felt like I was talking to Maeve again. But then, she surprised me. She said that seeing me again felt like a “luck of the universe.” That’s when I realized, she’s not a girl who reminds me of Maeve. She’s her own person. She’s Maggie.

MORGAN: See that wasn’t so hard now was it?

REID: I will crush you.

. . .

Morgan and Reid are walking up the flight of stairs to get to Maggie’s apartment.

MORGAN: Remind me again of the plan. Because realistically, she could just be playing hooky or be out somewhere else.

REID: Once we get to her apartment, if she’s not there, I’ll call.

MORGAN: Have we thought about what we’re gonna say if she is there? Oh sorry ma’am, we thought you were kidnapped.

REID: I’ll figure it out.

Reid and Morgan are in her hallway. Morgan knocks on her door, but the door moves when he knocks on it. It’s open. Morgan and Reid exchange glances. Morgan reaches for his gun as he cautiously opens the door wider to enter. When they do, there’s no one inside. But there was an obvious sign of a struggle. A glass vase has been smashed.

REID: Call Hotch. I’ll call her.

Morgan goes to the side to let Hotch know.

REID: (to himself) Please pick up. Please pick up.

MAGGIE: (her voicemail) Hey, it’s Mags. Sorry I couldn’t get to the phone right now, but if you leave a message I’ll call you back when I can.

Hearing Maggie’s voice almost makes him want to break down in tears, but he composes himself.

MORGAN: Reid, we gotta go. Garcia found something.

. . .

Hotch, JJ, Blake, Rossi, and Garcia are all together in the conference room while on the phone with Reid and Morgan.

MORGAN: What’d you find, Baby Girl?

GARCIA: Well after doing some digging, I unearthed Marcus Linden and Toby Forthword. Who are they you may ask? Good question. They are Eliza O’Hara and Brynn Dryer’s sons. And you’re probably thinking, they have children? Yes indeedio they do. The reason I didn’t find this earlier was because when Brynn and Eliza were teen moms, they set up closed adoptions for their sons before they were born. I’ve been trying to find any contact they might’ve made with the agency or their kids since the adoptions, but I haven’t been able to. I thought that was weird, but I started searching for other women that fit the criteria, and would you believe - there was one.

The pause Garcia takes before saying it, tells Reid it’s Maggie.

GARCIA: Magnolia Tate.

Reid is at a loss for words. His mind is trying to wrap about what he’s hearing, but it’s all so much.

HOTCH: Could you find any more connections?

GARCIA: A week before the abductions, all three of them went to a clinic for women who were pregnant or planning to be.

Reid bites his lips as he tries to grasp it all.

REID: Is she pregnant?

All of them know who he’s referring to.

JJ: Spence . . . they all were.

If Reid’s jaw could be on the floor, it would. Even Morgan winced as JJ revealed the news. A moment of silence falls over the group as they all feel for Spencer. Hotch is the first to speak after nearly a minute of not.

HOTCH: Apply those precedents to teen mothers in the early 2000s and cross it with women that gave birth to sons who ended up in the system instead of being adopted.

MORGAN: Baby girl, look at kids that are around 18-20 now. He would’ve been recently freed from the system. He’ll most likely have a history of anger management issues or disciplinary issues.

ROSSI: The mother might also be recently deceased.

JJ: There’s your stressor.

BLAKE: With the death of his biological mother, he wouldn’t get the answers he wanted. He’d look for them from the women that his mother is similar to. Brynn, Eliza, and Magnolia all serve as surrogates. Garcia, he’d be aiming to work in the system. Not only would he want to prevent other kids from going through what he did, but it would also explain how he found them.

JJ: You know the fact that all three women were pregnant could account for his anger. To him, that’s the ultimate form of betrayal. Giving their son up, only to have another child in the future to keep.

GARCIA: Got it.

Spencer is still trying to process. He stays quiet as he fiddles with the napkin. It almost appears as though he might tear it.

. . .

Maggie’s balled up in a corner, hugging her knees. She’s badly beaten. She’s bleeding, her eyes are swollen from crying and she’s looking down at her stomach. The unsub is standing, watching this.

UNSUB: Don’t cry, Magnolia. I wouldn’t have done that if you just answered me.

MAGGIE: You killed my baby!

UNSUB: And I’ll do more if you don’t answer me!

MAGGIE: Please . . . I can’t give you the answers you want. I’m not your mother.

UNSUB: If you don’t answer me, I’ll hurt your little boy. I’ve been watching him very closely. His name is Elijah Martin, cute kid by the way. Quite the over-achieving 12 year old. He’s in soccer and track and field. Wanna see his school picture?

Maggie closes her eyes and turns her head so she doesn’t have to see.

UNSUB: See, Magnolia, what you’re going through right now, is only a fraction of what I had to go through in my foster homes. I was tortured, bullied, abused. All because that old hag didn’t want to make the sacrifice to be a mother. So answer me this, how could you give him up?

MAGGIE: I may not have made the sacrifice to be a mother, but I did make a sacrifice the day I chose not to be his. I wanted to keep him. I cried when I watched him leave with that other family. But I couldn’t be the mother he needed.

UNSUB: Why haven’t you called him? Or tried to get him back?

MAGGIE: Reaching out would’ve done more harm than good. Not knowing who I am, or who his father was, meant that we could never stand in the way of his future. He can reach his fullest potential - free of mine or Charlie’s hindrance.

The unsub understands Maggie. She’s gotten through to him. But he still carries anger. He groans in frustration and grabs Maggie by the collar of her shirt.

UNSUB: We’re gonna take a little trip.

. . .

The BAU is at the local Police Department. Garcia is reading to them what she’s found.

GARCIA: I know a textbook serial killer when I see one. His name is Ray Lewis-Fernandez. Throughout his time in foster care, he was a troublemaker. He never stayed for more than a month in a group home. Quite a Dennis the Menace, according to his foster families. It also says here that he got caught on multiple occasions trying to get his file so he could find his mother. Her name was Shawna Heights, and I say “was” because she passed away exactly two weeks before he was emancipated.

MORGAN: So this guy is finally able to find his mother on his own, only to realize he missed her by two weeks.

GARCIA: Talk about bad luck. But that isn’t even the worst of it. If Ray did do some digging after his emancipation, he would’ve discovered that Shawna had two sons and a daughter only a few years after he was born.

JJ: Did he try to contact them?

GARCIA: No, but that’s the surprising part. I profiled him wanting to reach out and be one big ol’ happy family, but then I remembered I’m not a profiler.

REID: Wait, that might actually be it.

Everyone is shocked to hear Spencer speak up.

GARCIA: Wait, I’m right?

REID: Foster families mentioned he’d been trying to find his mother but at the core of its meaning - he’s trying to find family. If his mission is to find family, he wouldn’t stay away unless he had to. Garcia, check if there’s a restraining order on Ray.

GARCIA: Bingo, Boy Wonder! Malcolm, Shawna’s husband, filed it against him just days after Shawna’s funeral.

REID: The restraining order means he can’t come within a certain distance of the kids, right? So he wouldn’t risk it all just to have lunch with them or send a letter. Think about it - high risk, high reward. Ray would only violate the order, if he could have them completely. But in order to not get caught, he’ll use maternal figures to lure them. They just lost their mother and seeing or talking to someone so similar to Shawna would make them that much more susceptible. But Brynn and Eliza are both mothers who have given up their sons. This means they know what inadequate guardians look like. They’re aware the kids are better off with Malcolm, and they won’t be responsible for abducting them and placing them under Ray’s care. It would completely go against their own reasoning for giving away their children. Their refusal to help him execute the plan angers him to the point of murder. He isn’t just killing because they’re surrogates for his rage, but because they refuse to help him achieve his goal.

ROSSI: The kids are his endgame.

BLAKE: All he’s wanted is a family. Now that he knows he has one that hasn’t already betrayed him, he’ll stop at nothing to have them.

HOTCH: What’s the address, Garcia?

GARCIA: Already sent it, sir.

The BAU rushes out of the conference room.

. . .

Maggie and Ray are sitting in his car. They’re watching the three children play - staking them out. Malcolm - their father, is nowhere to be seen. We’re to assume he’s at work while they’re at home.

RAY: You see the boy with the red hoodie? That’s Malcolm Jr. He’s the oldest. Same age as your boy. Then Evan is the middle child. He’s eight. But the baby - she’s my favorite. Her name is Ariel cause of her red hair. She’s six.

Maggie smiles for a split second before frowning.

MAGGIE: You don’t have to do this.

RAY: And I’m not. Because you will.

Maggie breaks her gaze from the children to look at Ray with shock.

MAGGIE: No, no, no I’m not kidnapping them. I won’t do it.

Ray retrieves his gun and points it at her stomach.

RAY: You had a chance to have your family with Elijah. But you gave him up. Now that I have a chance, you’re gonna help me.

MAGGIE: What if I don’t?

RAY: You’re smart. Figure it out.

MAGGIE: I will not be taunted with death if I don’t help you take someone else’s babies away. So go ahead, kill me. I’ve got nothing left to live for anyway.

A gunshot.

Standing in front of the car, is Malcom with his shotgun. The windshield is shattered by a single bullet that penetrated it. Malcolm fired a shot right through Ray’s head. Maggie is alive and in complete and total shock. Once Malcolm knows he’s dead he rushes to her door to help her.

MALCOM: You have to unlock it.

Maggie is forced to reach over Ray’s dead body and unlock the car. When she does, Malcolm helps her exit the vehicle. Maggie’s seen putting pressure on her stomach to stop the bleeding.

Within seconds of escaping, police SUV’s arrive. Spencer is the first to run out of the car.

Relief overcomes Maggie.

MAGGIE: Spencer!

She stops him before he can hug her.

MAGGIE: No wait! I’m bleeding.

Spencer ignores this and embraces her. Maggie sobs hysterically when he does.

MAGGIE: He . . . he killed my -

SPENCER: Shh, I know. I know. I’m here now, okay?

Neither of them pull away.

MAGGIE: Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re here. I knew I’d see you again.

SPENCER: Yeah, you did. You were right Mags.

These words make Maggie shut her eyes and smile.

Hotch approaches the pair from behind.

HOTCH: Miss Tate, there’s an ambulance here for you. Let’s get you to a hospital.

Maggie nods as Spencer helps her limp to a stretcher.

When she situates herself and is lifted into the back of the ambulance, Spencer turns to Hotch.

SPENCER: Can I -

HOTCH: Yes, yes, go. We’ll meet you there.

Spencer enters the back of the ambulance and sits beside Maggie as they ride to the hospital together.

MAGGIE: You’re coming?

Spencer nods and gives a small reassuring smile.

Another tear escapes her eyes as she smiles through the oxygen mask to thank him.

. . .

The entire team is seated in a waiting room. Spencer is standing up and pacing as he waits for the doctor.

A doctor soon enters.

DOCTOR: Is there a Spencer Reid?

Spencer comes over quickly.

SPENCER: That’s me.

DOCTOR: Come with me, sir.

Spencer follows the Doctor.

DOCTOR: Luckily, the lacerations didn’t travel far enough to do a significant amount of damage that would require surgery, but we did have to perform a blood transfusion due to the amount of blood she lost.

SPENCER: How’s the baby?

DOCTOR: It was too early to tell the sex of the baby before she miscarried. She’s awake now and has been asking for you.

SPENCER: Thanks.

The doctor leaves as soon as Spencer knocks on the door.

SPENCER: (quietly) Maggie?

Maggie’s face lights up when she sees him.

MAGGIE: Hey you.

Spencer pulls a chair closer to Maggie’s bedside to take her hand and kiss the back of it. She smiles as he does this.

SPENCER: How are you feeling?

MAGGIE: Is it possible to feel incredibly lucky and incredibly lucky at the same time?

Spencer gives her that small reassuring smile.

MAGGIE: I’ll be okay.

SPENCER: Good.

MAGGIE: I’m starting to regret not letting Tony take me home.

Maggie and Spencer share a laugh.

SPENCER: Yeah, I think you should let him drive you from now on.

MAGGIE: Yeah, you’re probably right, but I don't think I want to work there anymore. Or even live here for that matter.

SPENCER: I don’t blame you.

MAGGIE: I grew up here, but it doesn’t feel like home anymore.

SPENCER: Where are you thinking of going?

MAGGIE: Well, I completed my bachelor’s degree to become an English teacher, but I never applied to any schools. I think in my gut I knew I didn’t want a job to tie me down here, otherwise I’d never leave California - no matter how much I should. So realistically anywhere that’s offering positions to English teachers is ideal.

Hearing Maggie’s an English major doesn’t surprise Spencer.

SPENCER: You know, when I go back to D.C, I can find open teaching positions for you. Moving there would be a big change, but I think you’d feel safer at least.

MAGGIE: I think I would too. And I wouldn’t mind the change. Getting a couple thousand miles closer to you doesn’t sound so bad.

Spencer cheekily grins.

SPENCER: Yeah?

Maggie nods.

Hotch enters the room.

HOTCH: It’s time.

Reid nods and turns back to Maggie.

SPENCER: I’ll see you soon.

MAGGIE: Can’t wait.

SPENCER: Goodbye, Maggie.

He sits up and kisses her forehead. For a moment, he rests his forehead on hers. Maggie smiles when he does this little gesture.

MAGGIE: Thank you.

Spencer nods and shuts the door behind him when he leaves.

With a heavy heart, Spencer leaves the hospital.

. . .

On the plane back, everyone is asleep besides Spencer and Hotch.

HOTCH: How is she?

SPENCER: She’ll be okay, but I can’t seem to figure out why. I thought she’d be broken. And I think deep down she is, but when she smiles, she isn’t faking it.

HOTCH: “Sometimes the ones who have the brightest smiles are the ones who have known and endured deep darkness.”

SPENCER: Dodinsky. (the author of the quote)

. . .

It’s been a week since Spencer has visited Maggie, but he’s back now. Maggie is lying on her hospital bed, with Spencer entering her room. He hides something behind his back.

SPENCER: Knock! Knock! I brought you something.

MAGGIE: Oooh, fun!

Spencer pulls out headbands with the words “Fourth of July” in block letters.

SPENCER: Here.

He slides one on top of her head and puts the other on himself.

MAGGIE: What’s this for?

SPENCER: Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, we subconsciously link the tragic event with the date it happened on. It happens most often with death anniversaries, birthdays, or in your case, holidays. But I want to make the Fourth of July a good holiday again. So earlier, I asked the doctors if I could take you up to the roof to watch the fireworks.

MAGGIE: Spencer . . .

SPENCER: Humor me.

Maggie’s reluctant but she still reaches out her arms to have Spencer help her out of bed anyway. He wheels over the wheelchair to her and she groans.

MAGGIE: Are you actually gonna make me use that?

SPENCER: I mean, you’re welcome to walk around the hospital with your backless patient gown.

Maggie laughs and complies. Spencer begins to wheel Maggie out of her room and into the elevator that goes up to the roof. When they finally get there, Maggie’s face lights up. There’s a whole picnic set out for the two of them. A blanket with small fixings is laid out for them.

Maggie rises from the wheelchair and turns around to engulf Spencer in the biggest hug.

MAGGIE: Thank you. This is like the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.

Spencer hugs her back even tighter. His hand is on the small of her back, and for a second he can feel her smooth skin, but like the gentleman he is, he tightly wraps Maggie’s hospital gown to cover her exposed skin. A small gesture that to Maggie, does not go unnoticed.

. . .

Maggie and Spencer's backs are lying flat against the blanket. They’re in the middle of a conversation where each of them are smiling.

SPENCER: JJ said that Henry wanted to dress up as his favorite profiler, and he came into the office as me. I even gave him my badge.

MAGGIE: That is adorable! I can’t wait to have kids and celebrate Halloween with them.

Spencer goes quiet, making Maggie realize what she said.

MAGGIE: Oh, gosh, sorry I did not mean for that to take a dark turn.

SPENCER: Do you want to talk about it?

Maggie pauses.

MAGGIE: Um, I mean, sometimes I get sad, but for the most part I’m okay. I think I’ve finally accepted that it happened. You know, I’m actually sort of relieved that I didn’t carry the baby full term, because could you imagine how complicated that would be? Yeah, it’s . . . it’s better this way. And I’ve always wanted a family, but if I had that sperm donor’s baby, I wouldn’t have a family, it’d just be me and the baby. But I want my child to grow up with a father, you know?

Yes, Reid does know. He wishes his father was around.

SPENCER: Yeah, I do.

MAGGIE: What about you? Do you want kids?

SPENCER: Absolutely. It’s funny because I always say that I could never picture myself leaving my job and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. But if I had kids, they’d be the exception. I, uh,

Spencer lightly laughs and looks down.

SPENCER: Yeah, I don’t know, I just really want to be a dad one day.

MAGGIE: You’d be a really good dad. I mean that.

Originally, Maggie and Spencer were both looking up at the sky, but after Spencer turned his head and Maggie turned hers, their faces were only inches away. Spencer licks his lips as he contemplates kissing her. But he pivots. He smiles and kisses her forehead.

Simultaneously, a firework goes off, startling the duo. Maggie laughs in excitement.

SPENCER: Did you know that at MIT, one of the lessons they taught students earning their degree in chemistry was how to make a firework?

MAGGIE: You know how to make one? What do they use to make the colors?

SPENCER: Good question. To create certain colors, different physical elements are used. Magnesium creates a bright white light, like that one right there. While strontium and lithium each showcase a different shade of red, like the first one we saw. But the most dangerous colors to form, blues and greens, are formed from barium and copper.

Spencer’s explanation continues for a little longer. The view above the pair zooms out. They’re just two small people on the roof of the hospital.

. . .

Spencer is in his apartment. He’s on the phone with Maggie.

MAGGIE: So I’m looking at an apartment in Manassas right now. It’s only half an hour away from the school and it’s a 45 minute drive from your apartment.

SPENCER: You’re not very good at changing the subject, Maggie. Even now, I can read your body language.

MAGGIE: I’m not changing the subject. I’m just mentioning my other options that are unrelated to the one you proposed.

SPENCER: Wow, is the idea of living with me really that bad?

MAGGIE: No! I would love to live with you.

SPENCER: But?

MAGGIE: But you’ve already done so much. You’ve saved my life twice, visited me every week I’ve been in the hospital, made the Fourth of July fun again, and helped me find a great teaching job over there. So I am sincerely grateful, but moving in with you would feel like taking advantage of your good heart. You’ve done a lot for me already, okay? I can take care of myself from now on.

SPENCER: Okay, think of it instead as a mutualistic relationship. We both receive net benefits from moving in. You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me because I’d be gaining something from it, too. I’d have a roommate and my rent would dichotomize. And for you, you’ll only be driving 15 minutes to work instead of 30.

MAGGIE: Did you ever consider being a lawyer? You’re quite convincing.

SPENCER: So is that a yes?

MAGGIE: It’s a “Yes I’ll move in with you but only if Plan A doesn’t pan out.”

SPENCER: Promise me you’ll think about it.

MAGGIE: Okay, fine. I’ll think about it.

SPENCER: Say it.

MAGGIE: I promise.

Spencer yawns. Maggie hears it.

MAGGIE: What time is it over there?

SPENCER: 11:54.

MAGGIE: Spencer! Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve been asleep like two hours ago.

SPENCER: I’ll be fine. I don’t have to be at work until 7.

MAGGIE: You of all people know how bad it is to get less than 8 hours of sleep. I’m gonna hang up now so you can at least get 6.

SPENCER: Then I’ll call back.

MAGGIE: Then I’ll decline.

SPENCER: Fine, if I go to sleep, you have to agree to consider living with me as more than a Plan B.

MAGGIE: I already said I would!

SPENCER: Mmm no. I’m not really feeling it. You have to say it nicely.

MAGGIE: If you sleep now, I’ll consider living with you as more than a backup plan.

SPENCER: Music to my ears. Sleep well, Maggie.

MAGGIE: Sweet dreams, Spencer.

Spencer lets Maggie hang up. Let it be known, that he has never once ended a call.

. . .

It’s a few weeks later. Maggie’s finally out of the hospital. It’s official that she has the teacher job - no interview required thanks to Garcia. Currently, she and Spencer are packing the last of her things away into boxes in preparation for the cross country move she’s making tomorrow.

MAGGIE: I know I’m still a little fragile, but the doctor said I’m all clear to resume normal activities. So would you please let me help you with the boxes?

SPENCER: Mmm, I don’t think so.

MAGGIE: Need I remind you that I’ve been through worse than packing?

SPENCER: That would violate our designated jobs! I pack the boxes - you label them, remember?

Spencer picks up a book from her shelf and reads the spine of it. From the looks of how empty the bookshelf is, he’s been packing away the books this entire time they’ve been packing.

SPENCER: By the way, I love your book collection. Very diverse. But the way you’ve organized them is peculiar, though.

MAGGIE: What do you mean? Each shelf is categorized by genre.

SPENCER: No, I figured that out, but why not in alphabetical order? Cause, see, you have several books from Dickens, but they’re sporadic on your shelves. And again with Austen and Steinbeck, you have several of their books, so organizing by last name means that all the books by the same author would be together.

MAGGIE: Alright then, when I move, you can organize my bookshelf.

SPENCER: Sweet!

MAGGIE: I was joki-

Maggie notices that Spencer actually takes pleasure in organizing her books, so she refrains from saying she’s joking.

MAGGIE: Can I see a box? I forgot I have stuff on my fridge still to take down.

SPENCER: Here.

Spencer hands Maggie a box. Maggie begins to fill the box with her fridge magnets, postcards, and small reminders she put on her fridge. Only one picture is left on the fridge - a sonogram picture. Maggie had completely forgotten it was even there. But she drops the box immediately and pulls it off, placing it close to her chest.

SPENCER: You okay?

Maggie pauses for a moment cherishing the picture.

MAGGIE: Yeah.

SPENCER: What is it?

Spencer comes over.

MAGGIE: I thought I threw this away, but I guess I didn’t. It was my first sonogram.

SPENCER: Oh, from a few weeks ago?

MAGGIE: No - years ago. This is Elijah’s.

Maggie smiles when she sees the picture.

SPENCER: I think you should keep it - the picture I mean.

MAGGIE: Yeah, I think I might. I mean, if it’s stayed with me all these years, no sense in throwing it away now.

Maggie puts the picture at the top of the pile in the box.

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are on the plane heading to Virginia. Reid’s reading and Maggie is sorting through some papers with an earbud in one ear.

MAGGIE: Before we left, I contacted the landlord for that apartment in Manassas weeks ago, but he never got back to me.

SPENCER: I guess it’s a good thing you have a Plan B then.

Spencer smirks.

MAGGIE: Remind me again that we mutually benefit so I don’t feel so guilty that you’re constantly helping me but I can never find the opportunity to pay you back.

SPENCER: Stop it, okay. I want you to move in with me.

MAGGIE: I snore really loudly.

SPENCER: Completely okay.

MAGGIE: I take long showers.

SPENCER: Not a problem.

MAGGIE: Late at night, I’ll get random bursts of energy and get really hyper and bothersome.

SPENCER: So do I.

Maggie groans in frustration.

MAGGIE: I feel like you know the reason why I don’t want to move in with you, but even I don’t know why.

SPENCER: It’s quite simple actually. You’ve spent nearly a decade living alone. And because of that, you think you prefer isolation over having company. But in reality, you’re just scared. Because the last time you were surrounded by a lot of people, they eventually died, essentially abandoning you. And it might not seem like it, but I know exactly what that feels like. To be scared of abandonment.

MAGGIE: Really?

SPENCER: When I was three, my dad left me and my mom. And a year ago, my girlfriend was shot in front of me.

Maggie’s speechless.

SPENCER: You and I - we’re scared to let people in and get attached to them. The reason is because we’re afraid to suffer or let go. So, we think, in order to protect ourselves, we have to stay away from the people we’re getting attached to - which is hard because it is equivalent to avoiding the privilege of becoming happy. So we’re caught in the middle of which pain we’d rather endure - the pain caused by unhappiness and loneliness, or the pain that we know, nobody will ever be strong enough to stand against - the pain of letting go.

Maggie’s astonished.

MAGGIE: If our love could’ve saved them, they would’ve lived forever.

A tear rolls down Maggie’s cheek. Spencer uses the pad of his thumb to brush it away.

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are at the baggage claim of the Virginia Airport. Maggie yawns and leans into Spencer, who puts his arm around her and comfortingly rubs her.

SPENCER: Tired?

MAGGIE: Extremely.

SPENCER: We can get coffee on the way home.

MAGGIE: Are you reading my mind right now?

Spencer laughs.

Maggie sees her suitcase come through on the conveyor belt. Maggie lifts her baggage up, and they begin to exit the airport.

. . .

Spencer is driving and Maggie is in the passenger seat, trying to fight her sleepiness.

SPENCER: Tell me about your parents.

Maggie’s surprised by not unwilling.

MAGGIE: My mom’s name was Amina. She met my dad, Sonny, in college, and had me when she was 24, but he took off when she got pregnant. At first, I didn’t mind it just being the two of us, but when I was seven, there was a father-daughter dance at my school. I wrote him a letter inviting him to it. He didn’t show up, of course. Not that I really expected him to, but ever since then, I’ve resented him. My mom used to say that he was the reason why I dated Charlie. She said that I never got to see an example of what a good man looks like or how a girl should be treated. In hindsight, she was totally right.

SPENCER: How did she react to your pregnancy?

MAGGIE: Well, at first she said she was gonna slap Charlie, but she wasn’t even really mad at me. Instead, she just said that if I wanted to have a future and if I wanted the baby to have a good future, I should set up an adoption. Later that same year, she helped me file a restraining order on Charlie. My mom was always looking out for me. It felt like she always knew what the right choice was.

SPENCER: She sounds like a really good person.

MAGGIE: And she was. I just wish I told her that more often. Growing up, I thought one day I’d get a job and become rich enough to support the both of us. I’d even buy her a range rover - it was a car she wanted since forever. I never got to do that for her, but she used to say to me, “Some people are so poor, all they have is money.” And I think about that everyday. I was never spoiled or born with a golden spoon, but we were so rich in love. She loved me so much, that she’s the reason I wanted to have a baby. Just days after her death anniversary, I visited the clinic. It’s silly, but I just wanted to be half as good a mother as she was.

SPENCER: I feel the same way about my mom. I wanted to grow up and create a cure for schizophrenia by the time I was 29. And even though I’m far from doing so, I’m not giving up hope that I still can.

MAGGIE: Does she live here?

SPENCER: She’s in a facility in Vegas.

MAGGIE: Well, if I ever find myself in Nevada, I’d really like to thank her for raising the perfect son.

Spencer gaily smiles.

SPENCER: Would you maybe want to visit her with me one day?

Maggie nods.

SPENCER: You two would have a lot to talk about. She was a former professor of 15th century literature.

MAGGIE: Does she still hold lectures?

SPENCER: She does. I attended one of them years ago. It completely changed my perspective. I realized that I owe all of who I am today to her.

MAGGIE: Then we have to attend one of her lectures when we visit.

SPENCER: She’ll be so happy when I let her know.

Maggie and Spencer continue to talk about literature.

. . .

Now in a coffee shop, Maggie and Spencer are nursing their drinks at a table in the corner of the cafe.

MAGGIE: Earlier, we were talking about your mom a lot, but on the plane, we spoke about your dad leaving when you were really little.

SPENCER: Yeah, um, eventually he wrote a letter saying that he just didn’t know how to be a dad to me anymore. That and he couldn’t deal with my mom’s paranoid schizophrenia anymore.

MAGGIE: I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s not easy growing up without a dad.

SPENCER: He’s partly the reason I want to have kids. I want to be the dad mine never was.

Maggie nods.

SPENCER: I’m not as mad as I used to be about it. Over time, I slowly stopped caring about him.

MAGGIE: As you should.

SPENCER: Um, we still have an hour before we’re home so-

MAGGIE: Yeah, no of course. Lemme just use the bathroom really quick before we go.

Maggie leaves her phone and her coffee cup at the table. Spencer sips from his drink but stops when he sees Maggie’s phone ringing. The call’s number has a familiar area code. Spencer instantly recognizes it from Manassas. He realizes that the caller is the landlord from the apartment in Manassas that Maggie said hadn’t gotten back to her. He looks at the bathroom and sees Maggie isn’t back yet, so he declines and deletes the call.

He wants Maggie to live with him, and knowing the landlord called her back would ruin any chances of that happening. And Spencer wasn’t taking any chances.

. . .

Maggie and Spencer are finally at his apartment. They’re climbing the flight of stairs, with Spencer carrying Maggie’s backpack for her - like a gentleman. When they reach his door, Spencer unlocks it and opens it for her to walk through first. In that same breath, confetti comes flying.

Maggie is startled by this, but comes to realize that the entire BAU is in his apartment. A banner hangs behind the team saying “Welcome!”

She laughs and goes to greet each of them.

JJ: I’m JJ.

Maggie shakes her hand.

MAGGIE: Maggie Tate. Nice to meet you.

MORGAN: Derek Morgan. I’ve heard a lot about you.

MAGGIE: All good things I hope.

HOTCH: Aaron Hotchner.

MAGGIE: Right of course. I remember you from the day you guys found me.

BLAKE: Alex Blake. Nice to finally meet you.

MAGGIE: Likewise.

ROSSI: David Rossi. Spencer’s Italian grandpa.

Maggie laughs and Rossi greets her by kissing each of her cheeks.

ROSSI: Got any Italian blood in you?

MAGGIE: Oh, I wish. Half Filipino, half Mexican.

ROSSI: A beautiful mix nonetheless.

Finally, Maggie meets Penelope. Before Maggie can even say anything, Penelope envelopes her in a huge hug.

MAGGIE: You must be Penelope!

She pulls away.

GARCIA: At your service.

MAGGIE: I really like your glasses. Cool color.

GARCIA: (to Spencer) I love her already.

Maggie returns to Spencer after all the greetings.

MAGGIE: Did you know they were gonna do this?

SPENCER: I might’ve.

Maggie turns back to everyone.

MAGGIE: I wish I would’ve known I was meeting you all, I would’ve worn something nicer than leggings and jet lag.

They laugh and tell her that it’s not a problem.

GARCIA: So we thought you guys might be hungry, so there’s chips and guac as well as other little snacks.

MAGGIE: It’s crazy, because I was craving just that.

Penelope gasps and smiles. She extends her arm for Maggie to wrap her arm around.

GARCIA: Well then let’s dig in.

Garcia leads Maggie arm in arm to the food. While Spencer draws back to set her things down. JJ waits up for him.

JJ: She’s pretty.

SPENCER: She is, isn't she? And she’s more than that, too. Everytime we talk, she never fails to surprise me with her wit or mind. She reminds me a lot of you.

JJ smiles as Spencer and her rejoin the group.

. . .

It’s almost the evening now, and Maggie and Spencer are bidding each guest goodbye. The last one to leave is of course Penelope. But when she does, Spencer and Maggie are alone again. Spencer shuts the door behind Garcia, and turns and presses his back to it and sighs. Maggie exhales too.

SPENCER: I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think this would last for as long as it did.

MAGGIE: No, no don’t apologize. I like spending time with them. I’m pretty sure Garcia’s energy cured my jet lag.

Spencer laughs and walks back to Maggie.

MAGGIE: I think I’m gonna go shower now. Try to wash off the flight from me.

Spencer nods and leads her to the bathroom.

SPENCER: Just turn this knob to the left if you want it hotter, and to the right if you want cold water. When you’re done just press down on this.

Spencer presses on the little knob, and when he does, the shower sprays him with water and sprays Maggie, too. She squeals and begins to laugh when she sees Spencer’s hair is drenched. It’s all stringy and in his face, so she pushes it back to see his smiling face. She leaves her hands around his cheeks, cupping his face.

MAGGIE: Well that’s one way to get wet!

SPENCER: Oh yeah? What’s the other?

The delivery of his innuedo is so subtly seductive. Maggie dismisses it and laughs instead.

MAGGIE: Um, just tell me where the towels are and I can bring you one to dry your hair.

He points her in the direction and Maggie promptly leaves the bathroom. When she does, Spencer sees himself in the mirror and realizes just how ridiculous he looks. But on the inside, he feels doubly ridiculous. He’s so embarrassed from what he just said that his cheeks turn red.

. . .

Spencer is cleaning up what was left of the welcoming party. He’s in the kitchen, when he hears Maggie exit the shower. Her hair is damp and stringy, and she’s drying it with a towel. Spencer notices the clothes she’s wearing. She has on sweatpants and to his surprise, his shirt.

MAGGIE: I forgot my pajamas were with the moving truck. I hope you don’t mind.

SPENCER: Not at all.

Maggie thanks him with a smile and walks a little more into the living room. She notices that the couch has a blanket and pillows on it.

MAGGIE: What is this?

SPENCER: What do you mean?

MAGGIE: Are you gonna sleep out here?

SPENCER: Yeah, why?

MAGGIE: No.

SPENCER: No what?

MAGGIE: No, you’re not sleeping on your couch in your own apartment. I won’t let you.

SPENCER: It’s fine really. I’ve slept on it before.

MAGGIE: Do you not want to share a bed?

SPENCER: No, it’s not about that. I just want you to have the bed to yourself.

MAGGIE: If anything, I should be sleeping on the couch because I’m a guest.

SPENCER: No, I’m serious. I’ll sleep out here.

MAGGIE: Okay fine.

Maggie dramatically flops onto the couch.

MAGGIE: Then I’ll join you.

Spencer sighs and shakes his head.

SPENCER: You��re really gonna sleep on the couch with me?

MAGGIE: Mhm.

SPENCER: Why are you being so stubborn?

MAGGIE: Why are you being so stubborn?

SPENCER: Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying?

MAGGIE: Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying?

SPENCER: You’re acting childish.

Spencer comes over to Maggie. He stands in front of her, towering over her small figure.

MAGGIE: You’re acting childish.

SPENCER: Stop repeating what I’m saying.

MAGGIE: Stop repeating what I’m saying.

SPENCER: I mean it, Maggie!

She shoots up from the couch and makes a grumpy face to imitate Spencer. Their bodies are so close.

MAGGIE: I mean it, Maggie!

Spencer takes the opportunity of their closeness and uses it to put his arms behind her back and swoop her up - bridal style. Maggie squeals and tries to squirm out of his arms, but he resists and carries her all the way into the bedroom. He tosses her onto the bed and starts to tickle at her sides.

MAGGIE: Stop! Stop!

Maggie’s laughing so hard, she’s breathless.

SPENCER: Not until you agree to sleep in the bed.

MAGGIE: I want to sleep on the couch with you!

SPENCER: Well I guess I’m gonna keep tickling you then.

Maggie laughs so hard she’s almost in tears. Suddenly, she sees a window of opportunity to escape. When she does she runs out into the living room. Spencer chases after her through the apartment. Maggie dodges some of his attempts to capture her, but is ultimately outrun by him. He gets her to fall flat on the couch as he hovers above her. Both of them are smiling and breathless.

SPENCER: You’re not gonna give this up are you?

Maggie shakes her head no.

SPENCER: Alright, I surrender. But if in the morning, you wake up and find that you’ve magically teleported to the bed after falling asleep on the couch, it wasn’t me.

MAGGIE: Deal.

. . .

It’s sometime late at night and Spencer has finished showering. Maggie’s traveling through his apartment and looking at everything closer. She notices he has a record player. And all the records are classical music.

MAGGIE: Interesting record collection. Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach. Why am I not surprised?

SPENCER: Am I that predictable?

MAGGIE: Just a little. Care if I try to expand your music taste?

Maggie pulls out her phone. After some scrolling and typing, she begins to play “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron. Spencer is unfamiliar with this song, but it’s abundantly clear Maggie loves it.

MAGGIE: Do you dance?

SPENCER: Oh, no, no.

MAGGIE: Just dance with me. I’ll teach you.

The song plays in the background as Spencer shyly approaches Maggie. Maggie puts one arm out and Spencer takes her hand. Then he timidly puts his hand on her back, but with confidence, Maggie slides his hand down to her waist. Maggie puts her hand on his shoulder. Promptly, Spencer and Maggie both peer down at their feet as Maggie leads the dance. She does the classic box step, and after fidgeting around, Spencer gets it.

MAGGIE: There you go. You got it!

They dance a little more.

MAGGIE: Do you think you can lead?

Spencer nods, and Maggie lets him lead. As the song reaches the chorus, Spencer finally gets his confidence. He doesn’t have to look down at his feet anymore. He finally looks at Maggie. To her surprise, Spencer spins her and dips her. They stay put in this position. Neither of them break eye contact.

MAGGIE: You sure you don’t dance?

Spencer sheepishly smiles and shakes his head. He brings her up from the dip. Maggie’s flustered from the thrill of dancing with him, so much so that she pulls away.

MAGGIE: So, did you um, did you like the song?

SPENCER: Yeah, I did.

MAGGIE: You know, that, that could be like our song.

SPENCER: Our song. Yeah, okay.

. . .

It’s the middle of the night now. Maggie is sprawled across the couch, asleep. Spencer is at the table reading. He only has one dim light on so as not to make it harder for Maggie to sleep with a bigger light on. He peers over the couch and sees that she’s sleeping so he picks her up and carries her bridal style again. When he lays her in the bed, she stirs and mumbles.

MAGGIE: (quietly) Spencer?

SPENCER: (whispering) Sorry, I was trying not to wake you.

MAGGIE: Can you just sleep in the bed? I don’t want you on the couch.

SPENCER: Yeah, yeah. I’ll sleep on the bed. I’ll sleep soon, but I’m just gonna be outside reading. Goodnight, Maggie.

Maggie’s already fallen fast asleep again. Spencer leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

As Spencer approaches the table, his reading material can be visibly seen. A thick stack of papers within a manila folder labeled “CONFIDENTIAL.” He opens it to resume reading the contents. On the very front, a scanned picture of a man’s driver’s license is paperclipped to another paper. The name on the driver’s license reads, “S.J Glover.” a.k.a Sonny Jr. Maggie’s dad.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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canonicallyanxious · 3 years

Note

12, 23, 34 and 35. pls answer as long as u need to!

thank you for the permission to ramble anon skjfnsknfs you genuinely have no idea how much i appreciate it

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

sndfkjsdnfksd what wips... really though i’m finishing up my one actual wip [davenzi star wars au scream] today and once that’s done i’ll have basically no wips to speak of, wowowow! i can provide a small list of au ideas for kieutou i’m excited to tackle, though. ABSOLUTELY NO PROMISES any of these will ever see the light of day or that i’ll even get around to starting the drafting process for them but right now in the brainstorming phase they do live in my brain rent free

summer fling/romance au

high fantasy au - kieu my as a half-elf, fatou as a human bard

korrasami au

modern persuasion au

also my friend suggested doing some druck new gen spin-offs of the star wars au which, like, i’m not NOT thinking about tbqh

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

Honestly i struggle with prompts/challenges in a major way, idk it’s just a lot easier to motivate my writing brain with intrinsic motivation [e.g being really excited about an idea i came up with myself] than extrinsic motivation [e.g deadlines/prompts]. i am trying to be better about taking prompts, though! often the issue i have is with being excited about an idea that i didn’t come up with but if i can find a way to make the idea my own then i feel like that’s good practice anyway, especially for times when i don’t really have the energy for coming up with my own ideas but i still wanna write!

[as far as challenges go tho i mean i’ve tried a few in my time and all i have to say on the matter is: never again]

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm bold of you to assume i remember anything i have ever written skjdnfskdjnfsdkj anyway here’s a little bit from the most recent thing i posted bc i actually really like this bit of dialogue:

Fatou reaches into the pile of nail polish and pulls out a bottle filled to the brim with a deep crimson red.

“The color of your heart,” she says.

Kieu My looks up at her. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Fatou says. “You picked the color of mine.”

Kieu My reaches out and closes Fatou’s fingers around the bottle, warmth of her palm resting lightly against her knuckles.

“You say such pretty things,” she says.

Fatou meets Kieu My’s eyes. “I only say things that are true.”

“Yeah,” Kieu My says, and smiles. “Same thing.”

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I HAD A TIME DECIDING WHAT TO RAMBLE ABOUT in fact i legit couldn’t decide skjnfskdjfsnd so i had @boxesfullofthoughts give me a prompt and this is what they said I should talk about: “the use of themes in your work and what themes you feel resonate most with you and your audience.” So i guess i’m gonna ramble about that now!

So one big reason why i gravitate toward fic is because i think it’s a really great avenue for exploring relationship dynamics and development. obviously in a romantic context yes, but what especially interests me is the blurring of lines between friendship and romance, as those have always been pretty nebulous concepts for me personally. like how do you even define those things? where do you draw the line? what happens when that line grows blurry and indistinct? idk i find it kind of hard to explain but for me intimacy in romance is oftentimes very rooted in intimacy of friendship and that’s what i like to explore [i think a lot about a little life by hanya yanagihara which imo does an excellent job of delving into this concept, the romance of friendships; it’s definitely a story i draw a lot of inspiration from, which i think probably says a lot about who i am as a person lol]

and a very big part of love imo is well-encapsulated by that meme quote “if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known”. which yes i know the original article is about someone judgmental attitude toward the writer’s goats or something but ALSO as i am the kind of person to take something very silly and make it incredibly serious i legitimately think this quote captures the heart of what i find so compelling about love stories! to be truly loved by someone is to be truly known by them - all the deepest, darkest, ugliest parts of you alongside the good. and that’s fucking hard! it’s hard work to allow someone to know you like that - to be that vulnerable, to really expose yourself to another human being. but also ultimately after all that difficult work what is more rewarding, what is more comforting than existing in the presence of someone you don’t have to explain yourself to because they already understand you wholly and completely, in a romantic or platonic context or otherwise? it’s something i love to unpack in my writing, like really there’s nothing i find more cathartic than really peeling back the layers and figuring out how two characters get to that point.

Another thing i think a lot about is a quote from a random tumblr post i no longer have the link for, which goes something like “tenderness is softness in the face of pain and shame”. and that is really IT, isn’t it? that’s exactly the kind of vibe i strive to capture in my writing always. particularly in the context of queer stories, when our community has had a long history of pain and suffering and repression and shame and yet despite all of that we still find ways to love each other, to take care of each other, to be ourselves and help each other be themselves too. that’s the kind of shit that drives me fucking insane! and it’s the kind of shit i love to write about. that’s all i can really say.

[is this still fic related? probably only tangentially. but this is the kind of shit i usually end up writing about on some level across all my fics so i think it still counts lol.]

q’s for fanfiction writers!

#Anonymous #answers

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justlurkingintheshadows · 4 years

Text

@nutsandvoltsweek Sorry if this is bad I'm not a writer as much as I'm not an artist, I at least have some more experience with writing though, I know it's not perfect but oh well. I also know it's technically late for my timezone but it's still gonna be the 10th February somewhere.

This is my attempt at a role reversal Nuts and Volts for day 2

Humanity and Ferality

Word count : 2,150

Content tags : Role-reversal, Scientist!Tyrian, Feral!Watts, blood, implied cannibalism, implied self-mutilation/experimentation

-----------

It wasn't exactly unheard of, the story of the Atlesian who went mad and lost his mind, in his unhinged rage it's said he brought down an entire lab and then disappeared, presumed dead, but now Tyrian knew the truth. Before him stood a ragged man, truly disgraced, soaked in blood that had previously resided inside the team Tyrian had gone with to an unusual site where people complained of moving shadows and nose curdling smells that kept even the Grimm at bay.

It was clear the heaving form wanted to finish off the last one and drag him too away to wherever he had stowed the other bodies, the only evidence that someone had been there being the blood splattered around after a vicious attack, Tyrian wasn't about to let him but he was curious, he supposed the poor guy had to have survived off something all this time, the thought would have made him shudder had he even cared at all. He simply watched the man carefully, neither daring to move, their foe was unpredictable yet somehow they had each other figured out - as long as they stood there like that no one was going to do anything, it was a stalemate of two men frozen purely to wonder if either was going to move first which they knew wasn't actually going to happen.

"Well, this is certainly something I never expected..." said Tyrian in a careful tone hoping his sudden speech didn't kickstart a sudden death, the figure flinched a bit, not used to his victims having any other vocal capability than a scream of terror. Though vision wasn't clear Tyrian was certain of something, it just made sense to him somehow, "Arthur Watts. The illusive one man catastrophe, thought to be dead, but of course that's only because no living soul has actually had chance to escape and tell anyone." The figure flinched again, it was more of a twitch, and Tyrian almost found it amusing, this man was more feral than a Sabyr, more animal than human, he wasn't even a faunus but simply a man who had nothing to lose. It was an ironic comparison to Tyrian's own self. Doctor Tyrian Callows, the scorpion faunus who managed to hide his feature his whole life and aid Atlas in great science feats becoming one of their most trusted with barely any challenge, he was almost more human now, it was hard not to follow their ideologies even if they involved the theory that Faunus were lesser and only useful for labour tasks which the humans were too good for, at one point Tyrian almost found himself hating his own kind because of how truly the humans believed they were in the right, they always thought they were right, and he had loved to prove them wrong. They could try to take everything from him yet he would still have the knowledge he'd come to accumulate and with that knowledge he'd almost brought their empire crumbling down as easily as a flick of a tail, that's what caught the attention of a certain goddess, she'd known he was perfect for the job and must have realised he actually barely needed her as he'd almost achieved what she intended solo, yet she still offered him a place and picked him up off cold bleak streets to give his terrifying, sly and genius mind a sturdy platform from where he could orchestrate a new wave of armageddon; His goddess had sent him on this mission with a group of, what Tyrian could only describe as, thugs (Tyrian thought very little of them and so their fates weighed insignificant in his mind), but he had to admit the ease at which this husk had dispatched them was impressive and showed really the potential danger he should find himself in.

It was perhaps not an insignificant detail to note that had Tyrian not just so happened to turn around at that exact moment the deranged creature would have been upon him hacking away at his aura with all the brutality and speed of a Beowolf, it was quite surprising that anyone could be so far gone that even the Grimm have no desire to come near, Tyrian himself had witnessed the creatures circling the area intending to prey on the mindless drones of a team Tyrian had with him, at first he'd thought they were responsible for the company gradually dwindling but he never once saw them dare to close the distance, they always stayed out there, away, and one could only wonder why. Now it made sense. One by one his lackeys disappeared and there was barely noise of a struggle, perhaps a new type of Grimm was a thought at first but there was never any evidence to back up the claim, it wasn't obvious to assume there was something or someone else lurking around picking them off one by one, leaving the best for last or perhaps just because Tyrian refused to be slowed down and so was at the lead of the group and it wasn't so easy to grab him, especially since he came most prepared for an encounter of any kind as Tyrian always calculated it was more worth it to over-prepare than to be left in a situation with no ability to get out.

He began to wonder if this new monster could even speak lest his humanity have slipped away altogether, but that was soon answered for him. The demented fellow had been watching this odd stranger in his territory, seemingly frustrated by the fact he'd been seen before it was too late, like an ambush predator once he was spotted he didn't quite know what to do, he'd been spending all these lonely crumbling years attempting to hone his skills to cause as swift an aura break and kill as possible, it hadn't been easy and he'd suffered a lot but he was sure he was better than this and it angered him that this invading doctor had simply turned around and halted his entire strike. He had to at least be thankful that the poor lighting and obscured distance still offered some veil, he was not the 'man' this pest had identified him as any longer, he left that behind long ago.

The voice that came from the sketchy silhouette wasn't clear, but it also didn't completely lack all intelligence, he was aware of that. "I intend to keep myself invisible to anyone who it matters to" came the sound, a bit scratchy and with a little wavering in tone almost to display the insanity, Tyrian had to admit it surprised him to hear sound come from such a thing but he smiled, and, perhaps acting a little too cocky for his own good, made the decision to move towards the crazed mess in an attempt to get a better look, this caused an almost growled "Back off" in response, the tone was chilling but Tyrian couldn't help being thrilled by it, messed up things was what he loved even if it was uncivil of him he couldn't ignore his true natural desire for such.

"You don't have to live like this anymore you know, I have a way to help you if you would accept it. Figures from your past don't even have to be aware of it, unless of course you wanted them to be" offered Tyrian, still keeping his tone careful, he would like to have this mission end well and not with any significant death, he wanted to please his Goddess. He was regarded by cold green eyes that clearly wished to inflict the most painful of harm on him.

"You dare to offer me anything, I have nothing valuable to you, how dare you come here and expect me to comply simply because you asked!" The voice was still broken from disuse, it still brought amusement and intrigue to the curious doctor,

"I didn't expect anything, until a few moments ago I was completely unaware of your existence-"

"And I would like to go back to that" interrupted the corrupt tone, Tyrian ignored him,

"Yet while I find it most fascinating at your sheer ability to eradicate your immediate enemy I find it hard to believe you wouldn't want to exact revenge on the very society that cast you out, what's a few 'immoral' experiments when you're clearly capable of more right? They didn't want you so you tried to destroy them, but you didn't succeed completely. You probably are aware that I think you might be-"

"Helpful to you? Easy to use? Manipulate? Control?!" This was more than a growl, this was a snarl, it caught Tyrian off guard and actually made him jump, it was becoming increasingly obvious that talking simply wasn't going to be enough,

"What would it take for you to find some way to trust me?" Asked the curious scorp almost softly, itching with anticipation of an answer. It took a while for his opponent to respond, it wasn't clear if it was because of outrage or simply no idea of how to react.

"I… to trust you?" Came an unsure sound, "Why would I want to trust you? Why would you want me to trust you? Trust requires closeness and closeness ultimately ends in parting."

Tyrian smiled again, "You're something else, something unique, if even the Grimm fear you just imagine what chaos you could cause with the proper footing to launch yourself from, we're not all that different you and I, while at the same time we're complete opposites. I know of somewhere there'd be a place for you, you'd have to leave this behind of course but you'd be rewarded in time with the exact opportunity your seething twisted soul desires" he could see this was perhaps sounding worthwhile. The reply didn't take long.

"I am not the man I was, I'm not sure if I'm much of a man at all… but you seem to believe I'm useful to you… how so?" The question was unsure almost cautious, it made Tyrian think there wasn't as little humanity left as they both thought, but he was all too happy to answer;

"I'm glad you asked, you see I work for a force this world will never be able to defeat and she only grows stronger with the aid of people like me, and perhaps even more so with you." He was always ready to jump at the chance to mention his Goddess, but took the opportunity to mention his own story, his own achievements, most particularly the ones under Salem's guidance, he exclaimed much glee at recalling events, he especially made sure to add in a little bit of how perhaps the addition of someone like the distorted disgraced ex-doctor Arthur Watts could possibly have influenced the outcome and made it so much easier, he mentioned the research he'd done on him and how he'd lamented at the belief the once great man was now apart from this world in attempt to play right into how he once thought of himself as an esteemed innovator. It seemed to work like a charm, not surprising, if Tyrian Callows knew anything it was how to use a person's own self against them for better or for worse. Eventually the newly revitalised man that was once a husk seemed to smile and said with as much attempt at contentment as his shattered voice could offer,

"Perhaps you are right" and that answer made Tyrian grin, but he continued "however I still feel like I am better off staying lost in the shadows of ruins, I would recommend you just leave" he seemed downheartned at having to say it and Tyrian simply had to ask,

"I cannot allow you to simply stay here, perhaps you could do me a favour" he had a glint in his eye which was observed by Arthur, who seemed perhaps a little uncomfortable and didn't want to ask what favour deciding it be best not to know. That didn't stop Tyrian from asking anyway. "Please step into light, so I may see you properly"

Arthur scoffed "So you can see what's become of me?"

Tyrian simply answered, gently, with a "Yes"

It appeared this was not the expected response. However unable to provide much more of an argument Arthur reluctantly, slowly, carefully, and in every way cautiously, moved closer. As soon as his body was bathed in light Tyrian caught himself being captivated, in awe.

The oddly shaped outline he'd been looking at this whole time was much more distinguished now. He was able to make out all the foreign non-human devices. The recognizable form of a man who in his own despair attempted to make himself into something else. He wasn't just less human in nature, but also in appearance. And Tyrian found it beautiful.

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abrunettefangirlnerd · 5 years

Text

(Un)Broken

Pairing: Tony x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Plot: You and Steve were together before the Accords but he left you without a goodbye. Overtime your heart started to heal. Though are you ready to let someone else in?

Chapter: 8/9

A/N: Yes I decided to spit the ending into two parts so we have nine chapters instead of eight. I planned on having all the chapters out by the time Avengers: Endgame was released. So I am sending this one out today... and the last part will be sent out in a few days instead of a week! I honestly have had so much fun writing this and talking with all of you across the journey of our reader’s life. Don’t be a stranger, send me requests! I have some done and some I am still working on but I want to hear from you all <3

He looks different. His hair is much longer, slicked back held with gel. A beard and mustache cover his face giving him a roughed mature stature that he never had before. Peering into his eyes you can see pain and suffering that only a man on the run could understand. He looks so different but the same. Underneath he is still Steve, your Steve.

“Hey,” Steve chokes out. “(Y/N) I-“

Tony takes a step forward which seems to stop Steve from continuing. Entangling your fingers in your fiancé’s he stops in his tracks and you give an assuring squeeze. For right now Steve has immunity for running off with Bucky, but you know that is not why Tony is wanting to advance on Steve. Even though Tony admitted it was the best thing that could have happened for him, he swore he would kill Steve for hurting you the way he did.

“You look beautiful,” he breathes. “I am so sorry for leaving you behind. I knew if I went for you I’d be falling into a trap.”

“You know damn well that I would have came anyway if the roles were reversed.” Your voice carries like a strong fire across the quiet room. You remember all the nights you cried yourself to sleep, all the nights you prayed he would come for you.

“I know,” Steve’s head dips slightly. “I screwed up, and I am never going to forgive myself.”

Silence falls across the room. Steve’s eyes flicker between the floor and you next to Tony, while your gaze remains strong against him. You never thought you would see him again, this is all surreal and you take in his presence prepared for it to be the last. You’re sure he will disappear again after tonight, though you are not sure why he even bothered to come.

“God (Y/N) I still love you!” His voice cracks as he says your name.

Tony’s grip on you tightens, only slightly though. He’s afraid you’ll run back to Steve. Tony knows that Steve is your first love, and that those are hard to let go. You know he won’t stop you if Steve is who you really want but you also know that he would be devastated if you leave him. Running your thumb gently over his hand you hope he starts to relax.

“Truth or dare?” You grin.

“Easy,” Tony sighs. “Dare!”

“I dare you to paint your eyebrows with peanut butter.”

At first he doesn’t budge. Instead he gives you a look like you’re insane. Though he eventually gets up without another word and disappears into the pantry. Returning a few moments later you find him with a jar of peanut butter. Sitting across from you, Tony gives you one more look to make sure.

“I don’t know where you’d get an idea like this.” Tony gives you a challenging smile. “You are officially the strangest woman I know. Your turn, truth or dare?”

Debating you try to decide which is the best route. Ultimately you want to avoid him making you do anything similar because you are all clean and ready for bed. You and Tony have a habit of playing these games till you pass out across from each other. For that very reason you don’t want him to have you to put tomato sauce on your nose to mimic a clown, and then fall asleep right after... again.

“Truth,” you finally decide.

“Do you still wish for Steve to come get you?” Tony sheepishly peers down at his hands. “Like if he showed up wanting to be with you, would you go with him or stay?”

“Uhhh,” clearly you were not expecting that. You wonder how long he has been worried about this. “Steve was my first love and I think it can be hard to get over, but not impossible. Honestly if he showed up now I do not know what I would think or what would happen. I may never know unless in that situation.”

A rush of tears build behind your eyes as you process the very words you wondered about for the longest time. Eventually you convinced yourself that Steve never loved you, and that is why he could leave you behind. For almost a year you dreamed about what life on the run was like with him. You didn’t care how hard it was, only if you were with him. But you weren’t with him, he left you behind and that unsettling thought raises your heart beat to an irregular rhythm.

Not knowing what to do, you lead Tony into the banquet hall and join the guests. Trying to fit into the energy of the room you soon forget the way your heart stopped when you saw Steve. Glancing over at Tony you see that he is having a good time, least that is how it appears but you know better. You know that his mind is running a thousand miles an hour.

Very little time at the rehearsal dinner was actually with your fiancé. You both would greet guests and talk with them for a few moments before moving on, but neither of you have time to talk about what just happened. You’re not sure if you want to, you don’t know what all this means. Tony pretends like he is present but he’s not the man beside you, not really.

After the dinner Wanda made arrangements for you and the girls to stay at a hotel. She is very traditional on the whole “the groom cannot see the bride before the wedding.” While you found it adorable, you kept thinking that this is the worst possible moment to be following tradition.

Excusing yourself occasionally to the restroom, you try to call Tony. Reaching his voicemail each time you started leaving messages telling him to call you back. Eventually he did call, only once.

“(Y/N) I just want you to listen, okay? I love you, and you know this. I also know that you love me, but I think you need to figure out if you love him more.” Tony’s raspy voice grows quiet with each word forming a lump in your throat.

He disconnects the call before you could answer and finally a harsh sob leaps from your lips. I also know that you love me, but I think you need to figure out if you love him more. Tony’s words rattle between your ears as you try to focus on what your heart wants. You can easily become so guarded to the point you have no idea what you want. Who is it that makes it easy to stay open?

Tony’s POV

The taste of whiskey floods Tony’s senses as he pretends to laugh at what Rhodey said. His thoughts are on nothing but (Y/N) and the decision she has to make. Tony has accepted that Steve has a special place in her heart, but he always hoped he would remain a ghost.

Seeing how (Y/N) reacted reinforced his anxieties and he can’t shake the feeling that he’ll come second. It would makes sense. (Y/N) said yes to him first, maybe she’ll do it again. Though another part of Tony is hopeful that she will pick him, hopeful that the last few years has meant to her as much as it did him.

“Relax, if you ask me there is no competition. She’s picking you.” Rhodey shakes Tony’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be so sure…” Steve’s voice magically appears behind the pair.

Tony and Rhodey both turn around and sure enough there is star spangley man himself. His whole persona screams honor and truth. Maybe he is with his country, but not to (Y/N). This man always manages to show up at the worst possible moments. Tony, being Tony, is not afraid to mention this. After all what else does he have to lose? The love of his life is trying to decide which one she wants.

“Worst for you,” Steve chuckles taking a seat. “Great for me though.”

In that moment every fiber in Tony’s body was screaming at him to fight Rogers. Wouldn’t be hard, he always has his suit with him. The only thing holding him back is (Y/N). Fighting broke up the Avengers, he wasn’t ready for another fight that would cost him her.

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thewalkingdeadimaginings · 5 years

Text

Late Night With You

So it's like Dwight is being locked in Alexandria and he's tied up in that room and Rick and the others are treating him like shit, but the reader likes him and she feels sorry for him, so she takes advantage of the fact that he is "tied" in that room and "alone" 😏 and she gives him some sexy time afterwards she'll admit her feelings for him?

I got a request to do a one shot for Daryl where he and the reader reunited when the group all meet up at Hilltop after Daryl’s escape from the sanctuary. I remembered that I had done a one shot of that some time ago so if you’d like to read that, click here! So, instead we’ll be moving on to a Dwight request! 😊 doing Dwight smut is definitely outside my comfort zone cause I’m not used to writing smut for a character I myself am not attracted to. I’m down for a challenge! Haha! So hopefully, you guys like it! <3 thanks for the love as always! And I didn’t mention this last time, but I also want to thank you for your kind words when my dog died. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. As silly as it may sound, it was somewhat of a traumatic experience and I am still heartbroken over her death. SO THANK YOU <3333

~~~~~~~~~

Too many lives had been snatched away or destroyed with this war. Negan wouldn’t back down and Rick certainly wasn’t going to surrender. Both of them would keep going until it was just the two of them standing. Negan had terrorized everyone for far too long and had to be stopped. The world could thrive once he was gone.

Rick and some of the others had left to assist Maggie’s group at Hilltop. It wasn’t clear how long they would be gone but you and Rosita were keeping an eye on Alexandria while they were gone. You were going through all of the ammo and guns the group had recently acquired from the mysterious new group from the junkyard. You and Aaron were writing down everything you had as your old inventory had been swiped by Negan a few weeks ago during his first visit.

“Do you think we’ll be able to win this, Aaron?” you asked. Aaron had been quiet while you worked. He hadn’t been the same since losing Eric. The wounds were still fresh.

“We have to,” Aaron replied, “We don’t have any other choice. If we lose, we die.”

“That’s true,” you mumbled, “I really thought I’d seen it all, you know? Never been through something so crazy.”

“I don’t think crazy really covers it,” Aaron said, cracking a bit of a smile. You two shared a quick laugh before continuing with your work. After that, you worked in silence until Carl came into the armory, his blue eyes widened in shock. It might not have been urgent as he wasn’t moving quickly but he was still fidgeting anxiously.

“Carl?” you said, “What’s wrong?”

“Rosita needs you,” Carl replied, “Someone’s here. From the sanctuary.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, “Who?!”

“Just come on,” Carl said, “Rosita put him in the jail cell.”

“Sure,” you said, “Cover me here?”

Carl nodded and took your seat as you hurried to join Rosita at the jail cell. Who in the world would show up to Alexandria from Negan’s side? Especially all alone. It had to have been a trap. They would keep him here and the other saviors would infiltrate somehow. That had to be the angle.

Bursting into the room, you nearly stumbled as you entered, “Rosita?! Rosita! Carl told me to come here. What’s going on? Who came here?”

Rosita didn’t seem as shaken as Carl. She was bouncing from one foot to the other but was otherwise calm, “Do you remember Dwight, Y/N?”

“The one who killed Denise, wasn’t he?” you said, “Shot Daryl too?”

Rosita nodded, “He showed up here. See for yourself.”

You peeked into the cell and you were surprised to see the blonde man sitting up against the wall, his burned face easily recognizable even in the dark. The way Daryl had described him, you were expecting a hard, evil man to be sitting there with a scowl on his face and nasty remarks coming out of his mouth. But instead, all you saw was a broken, sad man.

“Why are you here?” you inquired, “Why would you come here?”

“I wanna help,” Dwight replied, “Negan needs to be taken down.”

“I don’t understand,” you said, “You killed Denise. You almost killed Daryl. You basically tortured Daryl on top of that. Why the sudden shift in attitude?”

Dwight hung his head, “I…I did it to save my own ass. Thought this was who I had to be. But Negan doesn’t deserve to live.”

“You won’t be welcomed with open arms,” you said, “How do we know you’re being genuine? This could easily be a trap.”

“I know it looks bad,” Dwight said, “You…you’re just gonna have to trust me…take my word for it.”

“That isn’t exactly a selling point, Dwight,” Rosita piped in. She grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the cell. She lowered her voice, “What do you think?”

“This may sound insane but…I believe him,” you murmured, “I think he genuinely is remorseful. I know what he did was horrific. Maybe even unforgivable. But I believe he regrets it all. I believe he’s looking for redemption. What about you?”

Rosita glanced at Dwight in the cell and then hung her head, “I agree. He wants to help. I believe him. But ultimately, Rick will be the one to make the call I think. Dwight has managed to piss off everyone. Daryl and Tara especially will be out for blood.”

“Maybe they’ll hold off for us,” you said, “I think they would trust our judgement, right?”

Rosita shrugged, “This is a savior we’re talking about, Y/N. It could go either way.”

Rick and the others arrived back in Alexandria the very next evening. The saviors had apparently invaded Hilltop, coming at them with weapons they later discovered had been covered with walker blood. They’d suffered many losses last night so the group was on edge. You and Rosita were definitely not looking forward to adding to that stress.

“How’s Hilltop doing?” Aaron inquired, “With all their losses? Maybe we could send more people to them.”

“They’ll manage for the time being,” Rick said, “Don’t worry, we’ll send help to them soon. We would never abandon Maggie like that. Did anything happen here while we were gone?”

“Actually…” you said, “Yeah. You should come with us. You might not like this, Rick.”

You and Rosita led the group to the jail cell. Rosita unlocked the cell and you two stepped inside with the others close behind but standing just outside. Dwight stood then, stepping into the light slipping in through the small window. Everyone was stunned into silence. You and Rosita both watched in anticipation, waiting for someone to react. Daryl as usual was the first one to move, an almost animalistic growl coming from him as he shoved past Rick and Michonne to get his hands on Dwight.

“Daryl, stop, stop, stop!” Rick shouted. He managed to stop Daryl while you instantly took a step closer towards Dwight.

“He wants to help!” you added, “He wants to take Negan down!”

“How the fuck do we know that?” Tara snarled, her dark eyes narrowing at Dwight, “He could be leaving us vulnerable to attack.”

“I’m not,” Dwight said, “I want Negan dead as much as you do.”

“You wanna help?” Rick said, turning to Dwight. He pulled out his pistol and tilted his head slightly, “Get on your knees.”

Dwight complied, lowering to his knees and keeping his eyes down on the floor. The sight saddened you as Dwight looked broken enough already. Now he looked so small and fragile. What had Negan put him through?

“See?” you said, “He’s not fighting.”

“We have anything to tie his wrists?” Rick said.

“We’re tying him up now?” you spoke up in disbelief.

Daryl scoffed at you, “Why the sympathy for this asshole, Y/N? Like he hasn’t done worst to others. He’s lucky he isn’t being sent back to Negan in fucking pieces.”

Michonne tied Dwight’s wrists while Rick stood over the two of them, his gun pressed against Dwight’s head, “I know he’s done bad things, Daryl. But…he-”

“Don’t even try to defend him, Y/N,” Tara interjected, “He killed Denise. We won’t trust him so easily. You’re naïve to be so trusting. That kind of attitude is gonna kill you one day.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Rosita grabbed your shoulder to stop you, “It’s fine, okay? We can’t be fighting like this. We’ll figure this out together.”

Dwight stayed in that cell with his wrists tied all night long. No one had given him any food or water. You didn’t think he was starving by any means but you still brought a little food and a cup of water to the cell the next morning. He was just waking up as you arrived. He blinked a few times before rubbing his eyes, “You’re bringing me food? Isn’t this against the rules? Daryl was ready to attack because you tried to defend me.”

“I’m still not sure if trusting you is a good decision,” you admitted, “But…I don’t think you should be deprived of basic human needs. Food and water. And I definitely didn’t agree with tying you up. When did you leave the sanctuary?”

“Last night,” Dwight replied, “Came straight here from the sanctuary.”

“How long before Negan notices you’re gone?”

“Who knows,” Dwight said with a shrug, “He might be too distracted by his attack on Hilltop to notice. Or maybe he’s got a search party out looking for me right now. No way to know for sure. So…if you still don’t think you can trust me, why are you being so nice to me? Doesn’t make sense. Aren’t you afraid I’ll try something?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “Maybe I’m trying to figure out if I can trust you. And…I’d say you’re doing well so far. What exactly are you going to do to help us?”

“I’m Negan’s right hand man,” Dwight explained, “I’m there for all the discussions and I’m there when Negan’s making his plans. I knew he was going to use blood from the biters as weapons but I didn’t know he’d put that plan into action so soon. I also didn’t have my uh…what’s the word…epiphany until it was too late. But I wanna end this. They said your name was Y/N, right?”

You nodded, “That’s my name. I guess it’s nice to meet you? Not entirely I guess. But it’s nice to match a name with a face. If only this was under better circumstances. I think you would’ve made a nice addition to the group.”

“I had my chance,” Dwight said, “Made my choices. Now I’ve gotta live with ‘em.”

“We all do,” you said, “But I think for you…there might be a chance at redemption.”

Dwight smiled, “You think so?”

“I really do,” you said. You followed with a shrug as you sat down on the floor in front of Dwight as he ate, “You seem to have some humanity left. Can’t say the same for the other saviors. I don’t see any of them coming around here to help us. I suppose unless this really is just a trick. I would hope not though. Because I…”

“You…what?” Dwight said.

“I dunno,” you mumbled nervously, “I’m starting to like you. And I’d hate to get my heart broken so quickly.”

“I promise this is for real,” Dwight replied. He took your hand in both of his. It was awkward as his wrists were still tied and he couldn’t move his hands that easily but he managed, “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Even if it makes me naïve,” you remarked. Footsteps passed by and you quickly jumped to your feet, “I should go before someone comes looking for me. I could come back tonight and bring you some dinner. Everyone will be asleep so I could maybe…stick around a little longer.”

“Sure,” Dwight said, “Nice to have someone to talk to.”

You cleaned up the dishes Dwight had used before anyone could question it. It was still early enough that no one would’ve really seen you walking around anyway. But you couldn’t get Dwight out of your head. You barely even knew him why were you so interested in seeing him again? Was it the excitement of sneaking over there? Or was it the forbidden aspect of it? Or maybe it was just the fact that you saw something in Dwight that no one was bothering to look at.

That night as everyone was winding down and heading to bed, you made some food for Dwight and headed for his cell. Rick had people guarding the door all day and all night long, taking shifts. Only a few were willing to do it so you didn’t have to sort too much out. You told Rosita you would take her morning shift just so no one could interrupt you if you ended up staying too long. You would most likely get caught but the risk was worth it.

“Hey,” you greeted Aaron, who was on guard for the night, “I thought I’d relieve you of your duties. I know you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

“Does Rick know about this?” Aaron asked.

“No, I’m just trying to be nice,” you replied, shrugging, “I feel like I haven’t been doing as much as I should be.”

“Well, alright then,” Aaron said, “If something happens, just let me know, okay?”

“I think I’ll be fine,” you said. Aaron walked back home and you stood there while you were still in his sight. Once he turned the corner, you walked into the cell where Dwight sat in the dark. You could hardly see him except for the small patch of moonlight peering down at him through the tiny window.

“Y/N,” Dwight said, “I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.”

“Of course I was,” you said, “I just wanted to make sure no one saw me. Here, I made some food. I hear Rick’s gonna come around tomorrow to talk to you. Then probably let you go once he knows that you’re being truthful.”

“He doesn’t believe me yet?” Dwight said.

“Rick has to be cautious,” you said. You held the plate up in front of Dwight so his tied hands could grab the food with ease, “When it comes to the lives of our group and Hilltop and the Kingdom, Rick can’t risk it. And I trust you but I don’t blame him for playing it safe.”

“Well, thanks for the warning,” Dwight said, “And thanks for helping me eat.”

You looked over the rope wrapped around his wrists, “Michonne tied this pretty tight. Guess I’m the only idiot that’s trusting.”

“You’re no idiot, Y/N,” Dwight said, “As crazy as it sounds, I haven’t been this…comfortable in a long time.”

“Is that…because of me?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, thank you,” you said. You leaned in and placed a kiss on Dwight’s cheek. It shocked the both of you and you turned away, biting your lip, “Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

Dwight lifted your chin, “Don’t be.”

Before you could say anything else, Dwight pressed his lips to yours. You sucked in your breath, still completely stunned. A small moan came from you as you felt Dwight’s hands move from your face down your neck and chest. His hands couldn’t roam the way you would like but if you untied him, you would never be able to retie him the way Michonne had. But…that might work to your advantage.

You pulled away, looking back at the door, “Wait one second.”

Jumping to your feet, you hurried to lock the door. You looked back at Dwight with a playful smirk, “We have all night. Unless…I was misunderstanding?”

Dwight shook his head, “Nope. I was hoping we would be on the same page. You’re not gonna untie me?”

“Everyone would know that I was here if I untied you,” you explained, “Besides…I think this works out in my favor.”

“What makes you say that?” Dwight asked.

You came towards him, pulling your tank top over your head and tossing it aside in the corner of his cell. Dwight’s eyes widened as you unzipped your jeans and pushed them down your legs. It was a little awkward as you had to stop to get your pants all the way off but once they were, they were discarded with your tank top on the floor.

“Gives me a bit of control,” you said. Your tongue darted across your lips as you peeked out the window, “Who knows when someone will walk by. We might have to make this quick.”

You straddled him, kissing him once more. Your fingers grazed the uneven, slightly rough texture of his face as your tongue slipped past his lips. Dwight groaned faintly, his tongue fighting yours for dominance. You rolled your hips, grinding against him and his breath hitched. His fingers twitched, wanting so badly to touch you. And while it would’ve felt good, this would work out just fine.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” you whispered against his lips. You pulled away, sitting up somewhat to pull down your underwear. Dwight was breathing hard, his eyes following your hands. Your hands were shaking as you worked on Dwight’s zipper on his pants. He lifted his hips to help as best as he could without the use of his hands. You paused, looking into his eyes, “I hate to rush.”

“It’s fine,” Dwight said, “When we make it out of this war alive, we’ll have another chance. To take our time.”

You grinned, pulling his dick from his boxers. You had a firm grip on it, moving your hand up and down painfully slow. His body tensed under your touch, squeaks and grunts slipping from his barely parted lips. Your free hand traveled down between your own legs, running your fingers up and down your folds before settling on your clit. You clenched your jaw as your fingers made slow, deep circular motions. Dwight couldn’t take his eyes off you, watching you practically fall apart in front of him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he huffed.

You lifted your hips so you were hovering over him, your fingers still circling around your clit. Your heart pounded against your chest in anticipation as you lowered, sinking down onto him. Dwight leaned his head back as he settled in the warmth of your walls. Your jaw dropped but you weren’t able to make any noise. You could hardly even move from the intensity. Dwight thrust his hips a little to make you move. You grabbed his tied wrists and lifted them over his head, pressing them against the wall as you smashed your lips on his. Your hips rolled as you moved up and down.

“We have to be quiet,” you panted. Dwight nodded in agreement, though your chest ached as you were forced into silence. Dwight buried his head in your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth. The air around you was heating up until you could hardly breathe. Dwight’s breath was hot on your skin as your hips started moving even faster. He thrusted to meet every stroke of yours and it drove you wild. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep quiet.

“I’m…” you whined, “Close.”

“Me too,” he murmured against your neck. You kept your grasp on Dwight’s wrists with one hand, and the other between your legs, fingers circling around your clit even faster. You took in several deep breaths as the ache grew stronger and stronger. Your chest tightened and you threw your head back as a wave of euphoria washed over you, your body jerking and twitching with the aftershocks. The way your walls contracted and pulsed around him set him off as he came without warning, though it never occurred to either one of you in the moment. You stayed where you were, your breaths in sync.

“I didn’t think it would be that…intense,” you said, licking your lips. You kissed him tenderly, “I’ve never moved so quickly with a guy. Instant connection I guess.”

“I’d say so,” Dwight panted. You slid off of him and helped him dress. Dwight smiled as he watched you put your own clothes back on, “Makes me feel better about tomorrow. More confident.”

“I’m happy to help,” you said with a wink, “I should get going. I have a long few hours of guarding you. I took Rosita’s shift this morning. How do I look?”

“Stunning,” Dwight said, “I almost hate to have to leave tomorrow.”

“With your help, this war will be over soon,” you replied. You approached him one last time, pressing a deep kiss to his lips, holding his face in your hands. You felt his smile against your lips and you couldn’t hold back a smile of your own. You giggled, “And once it is, we can be together. Even if I have to leave this place with you.”

You left his cell and sat outside, still feeling warm and tingly. Perhaps you would get caught and Rick and the others would be mad at you, maybe even call you a traitor. Daryl and Tara would certainly be pissed. But it was worth it. You were confident that not only was Dwight truly on your side, but that this would be the help you needed to win this war. Everything would work out fine. Maybe being this trusting was a good thing sometimes.

~~~~~~~

THANKS FOR READING GUYS. I know my smut isn’t my best work but I’m still learning and improving so be kind haha! I do try so hopefully that it shows. I love you always guys <3 😊

#The Walking Dead #TWD #The Walking Dead Imagines #TWD Imagines #one shot #fanfiction #Imagines #TWD Dwight #Dwight one shot #Dwight fanfiction #Dwight Imagines

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sarahr3gan · 5 years

Text

Into the Lion’s Gate

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the direction I’m headed. My choices, my future, my life. Maybe it’s a result of Leo season or maybe it’s the incessant quarter-life crisis I’ve been experiencing since moving to NYC seven months ago.

All I know is I’m craving change. Action. Growth. And it’s going to require effort on my part.

“There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called yesterday and the other is called tomorrow. So today is the right day to love, believe, do, and mostly live.” The Dalai Lama

Our dreams can serve as a powerful motivational force, daring us to do whatever it takes to make them a reality. But they can also daunt us with feelings of impatience, inadequacy, and uncertainty.

I have a lot of dreams. I have a lot of doubts, too.

When I moved here in January, it was the first time I was moving out of my parents house in the suburbs of Buffalo, the only home I’d ever known. Aside from going away to college for semesters at a time, I was very much accustomed to the comforts of living under my parents’ roof. I was excited to finally start out on my own, but knew it would come with its own set of challenges.

Moving to a new city where friends and acquaintances are few and far between has proven to be very hard on my extroverted spirit. Lack of community and isolation has left me drained, uninspired, and ultimately cut off from my spiritual side, which I felt so connected to before moving. My physical, mental, and spiritual health all seemed to be getting worse, but I was determined to make things better for myself. Determined not to give up, and see my dreams through.

So I started going to therapy. Just last month actually. I’ve gone four times so far, and I think it’s helping.

She asked me this past Monday, “What do you do that brings you joy? Makes you feel grounded?” I didn’t have an answer for her. In fact, it concerned me how hard I had to try to think of just one single thing. So I let that question simmer, until later on, when I was hit with an insight so clear I have to call it a “download.” The realization was instantaneous; It was nothing I had to reason through. Suddenly, I just knew.

Community is what I value. Community is the focal point of my hopes and dreams. And community is what I feel I’m lacking at this point in my life.

All these memories of times I’ve felt good were coming to me and it was so clear that feeling connected to others was what made all those moments so special. From live music, to summer camp, yoga classes, festivals, being with friends and family, etc. All the things that made me truly happy involved feeling connected to others. The one exception would be spending time alone in nature, which in a way provides a different kind of connection.

It’s funny how obvious it seems. It was nothing I didn’t already know. Sometimes, it just takes looking at things in a new light to make them that much more impactful.

The important thing about “spiritual downloads” though, is they’re ultimately meaningless until you integrate and embody what you’ve learned. Until you make them real. When I had that “a-ha” moment, I knew I had to take steps to bring about the change I clearly needed. So I am.

Writing this blog is a step in itself, actually. Blogging is something I’ve wanted to get back into for a long time, but for one reason or another always left on the back burner, despite knowing that expressing myself through writing makes me feel connected and light. Some other examples of back burner activities that would better my life include but are definitely not limited to: joining a yoga studio and going consistently to build relationships with other students, teaching yoga, taking up an art class, going to a spiritual center to meet like-minded people and continue my studies, writing more in general, whether it be blogging or journaling or working on my book, reaching out and making connections with new people who make me feel uplifted, inspired, and happy...I could go on. I intend to make a concerted effort for all these things to become a regular part of my lifestyle and routine on the road to my dreams, because I know they will be an integral part of achieving them.

I think for a while I was feeling stagnant, and in many ways trapped, here in New York. It was once a dream of mine to do what I did: move to Brooklyn. So when I got here and it wasn’t immediately everything I hoped for, it was discouraging to say the least. But that’s only made me realize the expression “wherever you go, there you are,” couldn’t be more true.

Yeah, it turns out packing your bags and getting a new area code isn’t a fool-proof way to unlock your greatest potential. Unlocking your potential is a long, painstaking process of unlearning, trial and error, setbacks, and faith. And it starts with the choice to show up whenever possible.

So I’m making a promise to myself, to listen to my intuition and honor my truth. Because it’s one thing to recognize something to be true, but an entirely different beast to act on it. My recent days have been filled with insight and realization, and now it’s time to actualize all I’ve learned and step into my power. To own my truth and seize the life I am capable of creating for myself. Not only because I’m worthy of it, but because I genuinely believe the world will be better for it. When I’m living my truth, I’m acting in love. I’m a positive, inspiring force. That’s what I want to be for others. What I want to be for myself.

Today is August 8th, known in the astrological community as a highly auspicious day when the Lion’s Gate Portal peaks, as the star Sirius sends strong spiritual energy towards Earth. The portal is open from the 26th of July until August 12th, and it’s not uncommon to have intense moments of insight during this time, like the one I just described. It’s also not uncommon to experience synchronicities, heal long forgotten spiritual and emotional wounds, have visits from spirit guides, and feel inspired and free to make changes in your life.

Clearly, I’m feeling it.

I saw Trevor Hall perform a week ago today, and as he sang Green Mountain State, I cried. They weren’t tears of sadness, or even really joy. It was an emotional release. And as I cried I felt the hand of a girl I had just met on my shoulder. A beautiful soul named Chelsea, who I now realize was a guide for me. She reminded me what my true tribe looks like. Because even though we had just met, singing and dancing and crying to Trevor Hall with her next to me felt like the only way that concert was supposed to happen. It was exactly the night I needed, to remember what matters most to me.

I’m so grateful that in all life’s mystery, the Universe grants us signs that we’re on the right track; All is as it should be. Faith tests us like that...just when you think you’ve lost your way, you catch a glimpse of light. And funny enough, it’s often the lessons we learn in the dark that show us the way.

And with that, I leave you with a Lion’s Gate inspired Trevor Hall quote. Om Hari Om!

“And I could see all the gems hiding on the ocean's floor Well I dove in, actually did a canon ball And swam deeper and deeper As things got clearer and clearer And when I saw all of the sharks, I wasn't afraid For this time enshrined in my heart was the Almighty's Name I think my sanity has gone insane I woke up in the Lion's Mane”

#lions gate #lionsgate #spirituality #astrology #hippie #spirit #peace #newbeginnings #my words

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meditativeyoga · 5 years

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Passing Thoughts: Watching the Mind In Meditation

Having ideas arise during reflection is regular, but are you clinging to these ideas as opposed to just seeing them wander by?

When I was a child, the procedure of thinking captivated me. I would pick a thought as well as trace back the chain of organization that led, link by web link, to its starting factor, taken in by its unpredictable spins and pivots, up until finally I had actually concerned the idea that started everything. As well as there I encountered a paradox that delighted me: The initial thought in any chain of organization constantly seemed to have actually floated up from nowhere, as though out of an excellent empty room, all on its own, without my having done anything to prompt it.

As I grew older, this fascination continued, leading me ultimately to the formal method of meditation. Here, to my surprise, I came across one more seeming mystery: Although it had actually been the processes of philosophizing, pondering, and judging that had actually led me here, none of these tasks appeared to be of much use in the practice. If anything, they were an impediment.

I lately heard Wes Nisker, vipassana meditation instructor and coeditor of Inquiring Mind, define just how specific ancient cultures interpreted the voices in their heads that we call 'thoughts' as the voices of the gods-- something we would certainly identify as a symptom of psychosis. Is it any type of less insane to call these voices 'ours'? In the view place forth by the Buddha, there are six senses that make up human understanding: The traditional five plus a sixth-- thought.

From this point of view, the manner in which the mind perceives thought is no different from the method it perceives the information coming via the various other senses. Thoughts simply occur in our recognition, as though of their independency, out of the void of the mind, as well as the perceptions that arise in our 'inside' globe disappear 'ours' compared to those of the 'outside' globe are. This obvious self that floats like a membrane in between the globes of internal and outer resembles a dividing in a single area. Our thoughts belong to us say goodbye to-- neither less-- than the sounds of a songbird. So just what is it that makes believed so troublesome in the technique of reflection? For one thing, traditional, straight idea is a surface sensation of the mind, which has much better midsts offered-- midsts that will certainly never ever show up as long as its surface is mixed by the process of reasoning. We need to pass through beyond the world of believed if we are ever to discover the intrinsic limitlessness that lies under it.

Power of Thought

Most troubles come across in resting practice could be mapped back to thinking. Even barriers such as discomfort, resistance, and boredom can become manageable once they no longer have the strengthening power of idea behind them. Any moment of pain is inevitably acceptable. Exactly what is intolerable is to forecast the discomfort right into time, to add up the amount of minutes it has actually been going on, to ask yourself what does it cost? longer it will certainly last or how much a lot more we can take. To consider time in this manner remains in itself suffering.

My early experiences with formal technique resembled anyone else's: laden with diversion, lethargy, and also pain, along with a mind that simply wouldn't give up. The basic instruction I obtained was simple, however much from easy. Take an item of focus-in the beginning this is normally the breath-and return the focus to it at any time the mind could wander. When assumed intervenes, discover this, acknowledge the idea, consciously release it, and go back to the here and now minute. It is not a failing to discover ourselves drawn away from the object of reflection, this is a natural aspect of educating the mind. We do not should make every effort towards some special state: If all we provide for a whole resting period is notice each time the mind drifts and after that return it to the things, this is itself the technique of meditation.

I at some point realized that component of my problem was that I was allowing my mind spin-- actually, motivating it to do so-- at the start of each meditation duration. I figured that with a complete half hr or more ahead of me, there was no damage in letting myself fantasize for a few mins before truly getting down to it. However those couple of minutes became 10, after that 20, and also already it was challenging, if not difficult, to rein my mind in for the equilibrium of the duration. I uncovered that if I began to practice presently I rested down, my mind ended up being a lot more participating and my sittings far deeper.

I remained to be taken in, however, by a number of seductive semblances taken on by that ultimate trickster-thought. These consisted of comparative/judgmental thinking: 'All the other individuals here appear to be resting so strongly, I'm just unable this.' Or 'So-and-so isn't really doing the method correctly, he sits jagged, and she's constantly responding off. Why do they let them go on spoiling it for the rest of us?'

Problem solving, it seems, also often tends to be essential in the minute. However reflection is not self-improvement: Its function is to move us past the self, as well as if we get captured up in our own individual dramatization, this will certainly never ever happen. I am not speaking about when a solution to an especially knotty problem arises of its own accord, like a bubble climbing to the top of a fish pond. When this happens or I get any type of idea that seems important, I picture submitting it away in a box in my mind, with the suggestion that it will certainly exist when I'm ended up practicing meditation-- as well as normally, it is.

I experienced a particularly nervous kind of believing early in my practice, when I was away from my educator for a number of months, working as a caretaker for a wilderness camp in the Maine timbers. I started to experience in my sittings a feeling that started as a tightness of breath yet created to the factor that whenever I sat down to practice meditation, I could scarcely get my breath in all. My heart would certainly after that begin to extra pound ferociously, until I assumed, 'Oh my god, I'm going to pass away.' I quit resting, and the trouble discontinued. As quickly as I returned to The golden state, I shared my anxieties with Maezumi Roshi, Abbot of the Zen Facility of Los Angeles, that was my instructor at that time. He simply laughed. 'Don't fret,' he encouraged me. 'That takes place to every person! Just go throughout it.' As well as certain sufficient, in the following sitting period I did specifically that, and also the symptoms disappeared completely. It had actually been my ideas and also anxieties that had been holding them in position, and also as quickly as I launched these, I had the ability to loosen up into the experiences, which went away, never ever to return again.

Luckily, there is expect the thought-obsessed caretaker. We can not and need to not try to stop our rotating minds via the power of will certainly-- methods such as these can really be unsafe-- there are a number of methods that can help a mind that just won't stop.

Catch and Release

First of all, decrease whatever method of reflection you are making use of as well as turn your focus to the thoughts themselves, as though looking for the specific spot from which the next one may occur, like a bunny arising from an opening. Ideas often end up being extraordinarily timid when the light of focus shines after them. A variant on this idea is to aim to 'capture' each thought as it develops, holding it psychological, seeing it plainly, as well as knowingly releasing it. A helpful complement to both practices, which I utilize in teaching writing, is to view the mind for 10 mins, creating down every thought that develops. While this without a doubt is not reflection, it is an useful means to end up being knowledgeable about these different movements of the mind and also to launch our identification with these movements.

The utmost as well as maybe most challenging method for collaborating with the mind is just to be familiar with our ideas, while not obtaining captured in them. Maezumi Roshi gave me some guidelines on this when making clear Shikantaza, or 'just sitting' method. We need to regard our ideas, he claimed, as though they were clouds, enjoying them as they wander from one end of the mind to the other, but making no effort to keep them-and when they overlook the perspective, as they inevitably will, making no attempt to understand after them.

Eventually, as we proceed with the method, it becomes possible to merely enjoy the mind and also not obtain caught up in its ever-changing selection of interruptions. We become much less seduced by our idea procedures, less determined with them, much less accountable to concern them as 'me,' and a lot more able to see them as just an additional component of the passing play of sensations. The feeling of depth as well as visibility that has moving beyond thoughts ends up being more eye-catching compared to the endlessly confusing realm of chasing after them. Ultimately, we get the ability to drop past the world of thought and right into pure recognition, up until at last we sink even past the recognition itself to the state of complete absorption that Katagiri Roshi called 'returning to silence.' My instructor, John Daido Loori, Abbot of Zen Mountain Abbey in upstate New york city, places it like this, 'When the ideas disappear, the thinker goes away too.'

We must, however, remain to be rigorously honest with ourselves. Are we absolutely simply seeing our ideas pass, or are we subtly feeding them, colluding with them? It is very easy, as we establish in the method, to wander into a neither-here-nor-there, half-thinking, half-practicing state. While fairly positive, such dreamlike states are not true reflection, therefore we should desert them if we are ahead to real understanding. As a sage as soon as said, 'Everlasting vigilance is the price of liberty.'

Once during a weeklong retreat at Zen Hill Monastery, on the 3rd day of sesshin, when my resistances as well as stress went to their top, an idea increased to the surface of my mind with exactly what I thought of at the time to be charming, bell-like clarity: I had to leave the practice. It was way too much like swimming upstream for my easy-going individuality. I invested the afternoon specifying on this notion, gathering my validations and creating explanations, till the moment came for an interview with Shugen Sensei, Daido Roshi's dharma heir, that was leading the retreat. I marched right into the space with all the decency I can perhaps round up, looked him directly in the eye, and revealed, 'I'm mosting likely to leave the practice.'

He checked out me. 'Well, you can do that if you desire,' he shrugged, 'yet just what would certainly you do after that?'

I really felt the wind go out of me like a pierced balloon. By accepting my self-justifications, by not opposing my concepts yet not being affixed to them, he had actually penetrated the entire thing, the entire filled with air deception I had actually gotten myself captured in. I returned to my pillow, offered up the web of thoughts I would certainly been spinning, and rededicated myself to the practice.

He was. There was absolutely nothing else to do.

#Bikram #meditation #Vipassana #Vipassana Meditation #Yoga

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driftingglass · 6 years

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Your writing is absolutely stunning and I can't help but be amazed by it. I have read all your fic's and I love all of them. I love writing but I believe mine is average and I really want to improve. How can you write so beautifully? How long did it take you to write in such way? ( practicing I mean) 😊❤

First of all, thank you for taking the time to leave this comment in my inbox, and for providing such a thoughtful question to mull over. This is important for any writer to address, and I’m honored you’re seeking advice from a writer like me. I’m always insecure about my skills as a writer and learning how to continuously develop is difficult for anyone, no matter how experienced and well-rehearsed.

There are a few simple rules that I’ll share with you that I practice myself, and other personal beliefs that keep the process moving.

I don’t have a specific timeline set out because I can’t remember a time where I didn’t write. I was horrible at it, understandably, at first, like most everyone. Still sinking into this new “skin,” so to speak, that I understood was the eventual layer of writing I wanted to reach and hold onto.

Unfortunately, I can’t provide a “step by step” process to achieve a certain kind of style. That, ultimately, is up to you. But we’ll get more into that later.

For one thing, it’s essential to know how much you love writing.

And clearly, you seem to care quite a lot about it, hence that you love it but you believe it’s “average” and you want to improve. I’m not going to say that average writers don’t exist, because they do. People who tell you that every writer is “good in their own way” are wrong.

Not every writer is good. Of course, this can be subjective to a point, but the fact remains that there are degrees of separation. And there is, at least in my experience and journey, a main difference between great writers, average writers, and, yes, terrible writers.

I want to make it clear that I don’t consider myself to be a great writer by any means. Like every creative, we’re always pushing ourselves to be better and hone our craft, and this is no different for me. It’s an endless scope of a process that requires discipline and evolution, and both your own critical eye and that of another.

One of the most important aspects of being a writer is understanding the amount of time and commitment you will need to carve out for your craft. “Good” and “average” writers only write and read every other day. Terrible writers don’t put in the time at all.

But you don’t want to be good or average, do you? I doubt you even want to consider yourself “great” at one point. You want to be solid, and the best you can be. Maybe even the best.

And what I want to share with you is what separates the average from the best.

In order to become that level, or at least improve, you must make the time to read and write every single day. It could be as little as 250 words or as many as 10,000 when it comes to writing. And reading? Well, reading is accomplished no matter what, but reading essays, articles, nonfiction, fiction, it all counts towards something.

It’s important to take the time to both consume from other influences, genres, sentence structures, ideas, plot developmental strategies, etc. just by reading other works. Invest in your favorite genre of fiction or whatever you’re interested in practicing yourself, and watch as even your subconscious works to help you grow.

My average wordcount per day is 4,000 to 5,000 words. I also tend to overwrite quite a bit, and cut away the unnecessary fat later. My heaviest wordcount taken in one day caps off at 11,000 words.

I get up early in the morning, go to the gym or run outside to get the blood flowing, write for a solid hour, then leave for work that same morning. It requires a lot of discipline and no, it’s not easy, but it’s worth it. And after work I write as well until I reach my goal for that day.

Although I might also be a wee bit insane. So take that into account when asking for advice from someone who cares way more about writing than pretty much anything else, save for… coffee, some animals, and a handful of friends.

Regardless, this is something every great writer does. They make the time.

Start small, and grow from there. See how many words you can accomplish in one busy day. Create a routine for yourself. Let the ideas flow and grow into something that even surprises you.

There are countless writing prompts, exercises and more to draw influence from. With my own ideas I just think of them on the spot, but in college I tended to look for prompts for short story concepts that didn’t require more than one ginormous chapter to set up a plot.

I’m hesitant to give advice about critiquing because I’m ware of how much this is a problem for me personally. I’m very harsh about my writing and can be obsessive about the turnout, leading to an ironic series of burnouts and even stalling.

However, I can say that being critical, while sometimes dismissed by friends and colleagues, is absolutely necessary for you to improve. If you notice something off about your sentence structure, or if you realize that a character you’ve created definitely would not say “that line,” then feel free to erase it.

One of the best things about writing is that you are in control of your own imagination, and what you put down.

Just remember that it’s normal to feel burned out.

Writing, like any passion, takes a lot of practice, time and commitment to make into something grand and beautiful. Your style will grow into itself and you’ll find a reflection of you in what you create. I never planned to have a certain style.

The moment you try to replicate every other writer instead of accepting the type of writer you are meant to be, is one of many mistakes a first-time writer makes. Take it from someone who struggled with this for years before finding the courage to understand that writing is a process.

Writing is rewriting. Remember this too.

It’s easy to forget how not everything you craft will be perfect. Writing is always imperfect. Even the best writers are far from perfect. Because perfection is, well, impossible to achieve.

All that you can control is how hard you work at it, what you choose to focus on to improve your craft, and how you choose to approach your inevitable mistakes.

The fear of failure is one of the biggest reasons great minds stop before they go through with what they want to accomplish. Sometimes it’s truly the only difference separating a published work from an unpublished work.

Believe me, these upcoming aspects will tie together. I don’t intend to leave you hanging.

J.K. Rowling was rejected twelve times for Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (and probably even more). Pierce Brown faced rejection from over 120 agents before he was able to sell Red Rising. Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, J.R.R. Tolkien, William Golding, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Rudyard Kipling–and so many more, have all faced rejection.

But rejection is inevitable for anyone who dreams. In fact, let’s move away from just writers for a moment. Would you believe that Walt Disney himself was turned down from his plans of financing the Walt Disney Company over 300 times?

Success never falls into laps. Real success is made by actions taken. The choice to take those steps and keep moving forward, and never giving up, is one of the most important things about being a writer (and person).

If you remain in a comfort zone, you will forever be stagnant. Growth only comes to those who challenge themselves and push forward. If you struggle with adapting character, research and figure out ways to make them more personal. Do you struggle with dialogue? Read your phrases allowed, study the character more, and test out different clauses and details.

There are countless ways to approach improving writing. It takes a myriad of steps, and it all comes down to the all-around focus you want to have.

You know you want to improve. You know that you love writing. And for some, that’s enough of a reason to throw yourself into it and see what happens.

As one last thing to close this off (I could go on and on about this for days), please remember that your style is unique to you. It is a part of who you are, not anyone else. Everyone has writing influences (dozens, even) but their style is meant to be that. An influence. Not a replication.

It’s a difficult journey and extremely stressful and heartbreaking at times, but it’s so, so rewarding.

Writing, while something that’s incredibly wonderful to share with the world, is ultimately about you. You should write for you, so write what you want to write, reshape it accordingly, and keep at it until you reach your goal… and then keep going.

I wish you the best with your endeavors, Anon. Thank you.

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a-shakespearean-in-paris · 6 years

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An Interpretation of an Arc

A/N: I am very firm in “while we should be critical of media, sometimes also we should just have fun,” and I do not write this to challenge the common rhetoric I see about a certain someone in Dragon Age. Rather instead, I write this to offer an alternative viewpoint and how I have come to see a certain arc in D/ragon A/ge. I am not going to touch every little thing, but I will give a broad overview. anyway....

Ask me what comes to mind when I think of C/ullen and my mind may drift to the relationship I envision he has with my Inquisitor. I may also think of the wonderful fan art on here, or I may think about how much of a comfort his romance was back in 2016 when I was going through a very rough patch in college. I was so focused in asserting myself in my field that D/ragon A/ge, and by extension, C/ullen’s romance was something I could dive and indulge in, in a sense be my true romantic self. And while perhaps I started writing my longfic originally with an intellectual pursuit, (Can this relationship between a Circle Mage and former templar work?) The bigger truth was that I wanted to be swept away in a grand, emotional romance. In doing so I filled in gaps in canon and better got into C/ullen’s head space, and did some things that perhaps I wanted to see in canon, like an actual confrontation of his past. I wanted him to redeem himself better in my story than what was available in the base game. However, more than a year has passed, and my feelings on his “redemption arc,” have drastically changed. What I thought back then was that the game kind of touched on his redemption arc, but could have done it better. My thoughts now, however, are actually simpler: C/ullen has a recovery arc rather than a redemption arc, and this “essay,” will explain how it functions and why it hits with me more than a flat out redemption arc would have.

For a background, it’s important to mention what C/ullen did in canon that makes him “need” a redemption arc. he said problematic things, but his greatest sin was inaction. (Samson mentions he never played rough with mages if you talk to him in his cell at Skyhold.) We can talk about the evils of inaction all day long and i would probably agree with you, but there is also the added layer of Cullen being a trauma survivor. He had only a quick reprieve from the horrors of Kinloch before he was sent to Meredith, and the woman essentially took advantage of his trauma to fulfill her own ends. I have spoken about Cullen’s trauma before, but that’s not really the focus here. His inaction however, is what is important to bring up, and this will frame the rest of the piece:

So what is redemption anyway?

The dictionary defines redemption as “the action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil,” If we go by this definition however, things get dicey. What exactly is needed to be saved? And what does “saved” even mean in our modern, much more secular world? I really dislike this definition when we apply it to redemption arcs, because it implies that there is an endgame in redemption. You screw up, you realize it, (”What have I done?!”) you do something to make up for it...poof. Done. But I don’t think it’s that simple. Rather instead, redemption does not, and should never, have an endgame. Redemption is always something to work toward. B/lackwall’s arc in Inquisition exemplifies this. (And I will attest he has a better redemption arc than C/ullen.) He knows what he did was wrong, is willing to die for his act, but when the Quiz exonerates him, he strives toward a better future.

However, T/hom R/ainier ran from his identity and what he did, he did under the guise of B/lackwall, and acted as the man the real B/lackwall thought he was. it was a mask. It is implied he’s only confronting his past just then when he’s in the cell with the Quiz, and that is why emotions are very high in that scene. After his exoneration he continues to help others, even during Tresspasser. He works towards no endgame, he simply knows he must consistently be a better person and not become the man he once was.

But let’s talk about C/ullen. By the time Inquisition starts, a period of about four years has passed since the battle of Kirkwall. We know from supplemental information he helped rebuild the city. this was how C/assandra spotted him. She recognized his good works and offered him the position of Commander. While the game should do a better job in explaining what exactly he did and how he processed his inaction, if C/ullen helped rebuild, then he did not run from his past. He had to face it head on when he stayed in the city and helped rebuild. There’s arguments to be made that perhaps the Inquisitor should call him out on what he did...or others as well... and sure I might agree, (there’s a scene in my fic where this happens.) but at the end of the day, C/ullen is important to the game, but not really a focus character, and his arc goes elswhere. It’s an unfortunate oversight, but it’s not as though the Inquisitor can’t ever call him out at all. During Perseverance, this is something the Quiz can say:

Quiz: The man you were. You can’t pretend he never existed.

Cullen: Not even if I wanted to. But I am here now. I can make that mean something.

Alternatively, quiz can say that C/ullen can put the past behind him. He says to that: “I can’t forget what happened., but it led me here. I can make that mean something.” So while yes, I think B/lackwall has a better redemption arc overall, simply because we actually see the full arc, there are a couple things in regards to C/ullen. One: because Inquisition begins a good time after K/irkwall, we don’t see C/ullen’s “oh my god, what have I done moment,” and sometimes fandom assumes he didn’t have one. (which dialogue above indicates to me he did.) Two: He still says some kind of problematic things, but is it realistic for him to do a one eighty...even after so long a time has passed and mental health programs don’t exist in Thedas? In my opinion it’s realistic, and to be honest I get his grievances with going after the rebel mages, because it’s not so much that they’re mages, but that they don’t know the status of the mage rebellion, and then when they find out, they find out they’ve aligned with a dangerous foreign power. (this though is a whole other spiel.) Three: he’s not a focus character. Sure this is probably a really shitty lack of foresight on the developer’s parts, but let me point out that V/arric, the only other person besides H/awke who would probably have some issues with C/ullen...doesn’t at all. In fact they seem pretty friendly during Wicked Grace. Four though, and most important, C/ullen has no clear endgame. Even moreso than J/osie or L/eliana, C/ullen pours himself into his work. It’s even joked that he needs a hobby. He acts, when before, his sin was inaction. In a way, this is a form of redemption: acting now when he didn’t before.

But hey! You said in the beginning that this was a recovery arc! What gives?

While I argue that the overall “theme” of C/ullen’s story is recovery, I would also attest that recovery in itself is a form of redemption, and this all depends on whether or not you as the Inquisitor keep him on lyrium or not. Your choices depending, C/ullen recovers or he spirals and ends up a lot worse. So let’s dive into this now, shall we?

The Blue Vial and it’s Symbolism.

We learn early on that C/ullen did something very very dangerous and unprecedented months before the Inquisition formally began: quit lyrium. he did something too that could very well kill him. Putting him back on it nets this dialogue:

I thought if I removed the part that kept me chained I would find my own purpose again.

C/ullen wanted to be a templar to protect people, something he says. Hell, C/ole even says C/ullen is a “good” one, when asking about the templars because he wants to protect. After the Blight he “served out of fear,” and he was “compelled,” as he said, but as mentioned previously he didn’t receive proper help before he was sent to the queen of insanity. However, he ultimately came to the realization that M/eredith did not represent what the order was supposed to stand for. Too little too late? If you believe that I will not argue with you, but the point is, he came to a realization by himself that many would not have. And to seal the deal, he removes himself from the lyrium, removes the chains to “find my own purpose again.” He stopped the lyrium to remember that when he was a boy, it wasn’t about fear. It was protection. Stopping the lyrium is breaking the last hold the order and his past has over him, and his way of going back to protecting people. it is his recovery. Finding a path again, after treading the wrong one. Putting him back on lyrium is forcing him back into his old viewpoints,not allowing him to fully break the chain. If you do this, he does not recover. The chantry scene exemplifies this: either he’s more hopeful, saying a prayer and having a moment of reflection, or he remains bound to the order. Keeping C/ullen off of lyrium allows him to find a life after.

There’s a poem Tennyson wrote called “Ulysses.” It’s a dramatic monologue delivered by Odyssues (or Ulysses as Tennyson uses his Roman name) sometime after the Odyssey where the man delivers this long epic speech about how bored he is after the Trojan War and his grand adventure, and wants to go out exploring again. to be honest the poem depresses me, because it’s the narrative I see often, even in my own family. It’s the narrative of the soldier who could not adjust to civilian life after the fighting was done. But C/ullen? romanced or not, he does find a life after. he succeeds, and that to me is very hopeful. perhaps it’s not outright said, but the ending slides, romanced or not, certainly indicate he found a life after the fighting. he recovered, and as the slides say he continues to help people and do good work. He continues to work toward a redemption. this is his arc. It is nuanced, symbolic, and while I have some issues, I think it is not only realistic, but effective, and hopeful. He is like many of us, many of us who did wrong. He doesn’t wallow in the past but he doesn’t forget, and he looks forward. that, to me, is very, very important.

Conclusion and Disclaimer

I’m not going to pretend like I don’t understand why people have grievances with his arc, but I want to stress that this is my interpretation. I kind of didn’t want to publish this but I spent a huge chunk of time writing, so what the hell. All I ask is please, please, pleeeaaasssssssseeeeee do not be rude or vitriolic. I have thought this for a long time, and I finally wished to share. Now I need a nap.

#not sure if this should be reblogged?#????#please do not be rude #that is all I ask #ah well #worst comes to worst I have a block buttomn #*button #ehhh maybe I should delete #ah whatever go ahead and reblog #i have a block button

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warcrafttimemd · 6 years

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Thoughts On The Criticism of AU!Draenei Direction

As the fallout from the revelations of the Mag’har Allied Race scenario continues to spread through the fanbase, I’ve seen plenty of good reasons why the decision to turn the AU!Draenor Draenei evil was a terrible one: it’s illogical, it invalidates the entirety of the Warlords of Draenor storyline, it’s a weak-ass excuse to set the Mag’har against a threat they need help with that they couldn’t get from the AU!Draenei that also completely ignores all the other nonsense going on like the crazy plants in Gorgrond, it’s the latest in the increasingly shameful exhibit of how Blizzard doesn’t know how to write female characters, it’s a pathetically lazy attempt to peddle the ‘both sides are evil’ narrative even though the AU@Draenei are not and have never actually been part of the Alliance, it’s just bad fucking writing, etc. It is an awful decision for all those reasons listed.

I have seen one that doesn’t work, though, and it’s been written a number of different ways:

“Draenei don’t/can’t work as oppressors because they’ve always been oppressed.”

“Draenei are victim-coded, so making them evil is wrong.”

“I can’t/don’t feel sorry for the Mag’har because they treated the Draenei so horribly in the past.”

It all basically boils down to this: Draenei, as villains, are impossible. Frankly, I don’t buy it.

“Draenei don’t/can’t work as oppressors because they’ve always been oppressed.”

Being oppressed or conquered in the past, whether as an individual or a group, doesn’t prevent an individual or a group from being oppressors or conquerors in the future. There’s no Ron Swanson-style card they get to hold up that says “I can do what I want.” What it does mean is that, having been treated in this awful way, they should know better than to turn around and do it to someone else. Unfortunately, you can look at the entire history of Azeroth to see how that lesson’s taken hold in others - or hasn’t, in most cases.

To the more severe version of the idea, that Draenei can’t be oppressors - that they are physically and morally incapable of the act on an objective scale, no matter the actual results of their actions - because of how they’ve been treated in the past, I also say bollocks. The ability to dominate and conquer is directly related to the power wielded by a person/faction; when we left AU!Draenor at the end of Warlords, the AU!Draenei were still on the back-foot (back-hoof?), but when we come back to AU!Draenor, even though we don’t have exact specifics yet, we can infer that they’ve grown in size and strength enough not just to challenge the Mag’har, but to become the dominant species/faction on the planet.

Whatever power of the Mag’har/Iron Horde wielded in the past, it’s now passed to the AU!Draenei. They have the power, and they’re happily using it to convert, enslave, and wipe out the Mag’har. When a faction starts outnumbering and enslaving other races, they don’t get to hold onto that ‘oppressed’ title. As Garrosh Hellscream himself said:

“Draenei are victim-coded, so making them evil is wrong.”

This variation holds the most water for me, although I’d still argue it’s inaccurate. Is turning the AU!Draenei ‘evil’ morally wrong? No. Is it distasteful? Arguably. Is it a poor idea at this point in World of Warcraft’s story? Absolutely.

To a certain extent, I think I see what Blizzard is attempting to do: they’re pulling an ‘Arthas,’ showcasing how dire a threat is by showing that even the best and brightest can be turned into moustache-twirling villains by its influence. I think that Blizzard hopes that in doing so, not only will they add a huge amount of weight to Xe’ra’s actions in Legion, they’ll also be adding a huge amount of weight to the concept that the Light can be just as dangerous as the Void, which has, up until the Xe’ra stuff, seemed more like trite ‘all things in moderation’ philosophy than something concrete.

Xe’ra’s extremist approach was easy enough to pass off as a fluke for a number of reasons: because of existing in a fragmented state for so long, her sanity was questionable (wow, another insane female character, real original Blizz), she was ancient beyond reckoning, coming from a time and place far divorced from Azeroth (and Azerothian ideas about good and evil), etc. Xe’ra was really the first true instance of a Light-aligned character doing some really questionable stuff in the name of the Light; there have been other characters in similar circumstances (Arthas, the Scarlet Crusade, etc.) but all of those were shown to be ultimately under the control or direction of more nefarious forces. There’s no question what Xe’ra is up to. Xe’ra can’t be discounted as a rogue agent anymore. She isn’t the exception, she’s the harbinger, and the AU!Draenei (and potentially more characters in the future) are what she is heralding.

As to whether turning a ‘victim-coded’ race into conquerors is ‘wrong’...I guess I don’t even really understand that concept, that once a race/faction has been established as more likely to give ground than hold or take, then they’ll never, ever do anything but that, and that changing or reversing that behavior is morally incorrect on the behalf of the writers. Honestly, I addressed most of that in the first section. Yes, the Draenei have been shown to be naturally peaceful, and retreating from a fight or attempting to negotiate is their first instinct. However, they’ve also been shown to be easily swayed to drastic action when their faith is appealed to, something both Sargeras and K’ure took advantage of in the past, though for different reasons. A running theme in the Warcraft games is how absolute power corrupts, and there’s no good reason why any faction should be immune from that, no matter what they’ve been through. Dealing with shit in the past earns you nothing on a cosmic scale, which the World of Warcraft writers seem to enjoy reminding us a lot of lately.

That still doesn’t make the decision to have the AU!Draenei go Crusades on Draenor any better. It’s certainly in poor taste. The people of AU!Draenor got about as happy an ending as World of Warcraft affords: the bad guys were defeated, and everybody was pledged to a brighter future because, down at brass tacks, that’s what they all wanted. Then we come back years later - from the clues in the broadcast text, I’m assuming the Mag’har scenario takes place about 20-30 years after the events of Warlords - and find that literally everything is ruined. Nothing the players did really mattered at all; even though the Legion is no longer in the picture, Draenor is still in the hands of tyrants, it’s just religious fanatics instead of savage warriors this time. Who knows what’s happened to the Arakkoa. They were probably first on the AU!Draenei’s ‘to-smite’ list. It’s such an absolutely bitter pill that it almost defies belief. I joked about it in a post a while back, but Blizzard really did make Warlords somehow worse.

“I can’t/don’t feel sorry for the Mag’har because they treated the Draenei so horribly in the past.”

I call this the ‘Killmonger problem,’ because the folks who feel this way don’t assign an intrinsic negative value to certain actions/practices, but rather base their approval of those actions/practices purely on who’s performing them. In other words, they don’t have a problem with objectively evil actions like conquering and/or enslaving, but only as long as they’re the ones doing it or it’s happening to someone they don’t like.

Because the Mag’har were awful to the AU!Draenei in the past, there’s a tacit approval on some of the players’ parts of the idea that now the AU!Draenei should be able to be as awful as they want to the Mag’har. That’s not a perspective concerned with justice, but with vengeance, with ‘getting even.’ I’m not denying that the Iron Horde did some heinous things in the past, but visiting those horrors back on them does nothing but continue the cycle of violence.

Look, if the writers fail to elicit sympathy for the Mag’har, that’s partially on them. The way they’ve botched this entire thing, I’m not surprised. I’m having a hard time myself, although I suspect that’s mostly because I’m still trying to wrap my head around how the AU!Draenei could’ve possibly gone this bad in the first place. But I think the whole scenario also challenges us as an audience to look at this once completely sympathetic faction and what they’re doing now, and ask ourselves “Am I okay/not okay with this, and why? Am I getting a vicarious thrill out of seeing Draenei finally beat some Orc ass after years and years of oppression?” If the answer is yes, then own it, but don’t pretend like you’ve got the moral high ground to criticize story direction when you’re the one condoning or at least complicit with the faction that’s killing people for worshiping the wrong god. Glass houses and all that.

There is one more variation I’ve seen - not listed above - that explicitly has to do with how certain races in World of Warcraft are tied to real world equivalents, but that’s a complete can of worms that’s not really ever worth opening. Once we start talking about how certain factions are (insert race/religion)-coded, we project biases and opinions from the real world onto situations and people in completely different contexts, and we start debating about both as if they’re one, and they’re really not. Every race and faction in WoW is a mishmash of influences from multiple cultures, and trying to superimpose real world history over a fictional universe that exists as such leads directly to The Yawning, Dark Cavern That Nothing Good Ever Comes Out Of.

Sorry if this entire post has come off as completely bonkers. I’ve been drafting and rewriting it over the course of a couple of days, so I know it’s not the most coherent thing in the world, but, for whatever reason, whenever I saw justifications like this for hating on the Mag’har scenario, it just really ground my gears. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the direction that Blizzard has chosen to go with AU!Draenei, but I also feel pretty strongly that there are valid, logical reasons for disliking something, and then there’s just pseudo-socio-political nonsense. Feels kind of like people giving a politician a hard time about his/her looks or clothing choices when they're an abhorrent human being with no morals and terrible politics. If you're gonna go after a problem, go after it for the right reasons.

#world of warcraft #battle for azeroth #mag'har #draenei #warlords of draenor #beta #rage.txt

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flyswhumpcenter · 6 years

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It Happened Again [Fever February Day 17 - Hospital Fever]

FEVER FEBRUARY INDEX

Summary: Chiaki receives a call from not one, but three of her friends, and all for the same reason. A reason so strong, she leaves her livestream viewers hanging without a word, and runs for the local supermarket. Because it all happened again.

Fandom: Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair (Non-Desp AU, cameos by characters from DR1 and DRV3) Ship: Hinanami (Hajime/Chiaki)

Word Count: 3K words

Notes: No long time to see in the Hinanami sphere with my usual sickfic business. Can't say this is the best comeback ever, but I hope to do much better next time haha. This was mostly a warm-up. A three-day warm-up, but still, a warm-up.It turns out using my ideas from July 2017 more than half a year after originally having them made this fanfic very stale and with nowhere to fucking go. And I still don't know how to write Chiaki so that's good I guess. Kind of a follow up to a Pixelated Fever oneshot from a while back, "Hajime discovers shiny hunting: the fic". At least, takes place in the same settings and AU conditions.

AO3 version available here.

The hunt was going strong for Chiaki, who was sitting in front of her computer for a surprise livestream. It doesn’t happen often, because she attends college (as she should), and while she couldn’t really launch herself into competitive gaming thanks to it being too fast for her, she still dreamed of making video gaming her source of income in the near future.

Sure, shiny hunting required ungodly patience to most people’s eyes. It was, after all, a long and slow process of trying over and over until you find the perfect gem. Some people said it was useless because it was “just the same but in different colours”: Chiaki loved it because she could do it at her pace. She also happened to think it was a great challenge with a satisfying reward, since she got to keep the fruit of her labour.

So, of course, when her phone rang, she didn’t pick up at first.

The chat got a bit upset over this. It was probably just a friend from college who was calling to get some news of her. At worst, they would leave a voice mail and she would call later. Maybe. She didn’t like phoning people. She preferred talking to them over Discord and Skype. She’d see later, she thought.

“Don’t worry guys… It’s probably just a friend from school…” she told her audience, in an attempt to calm them down.

But the phone kept ringing.

Chiaki wondered if she shouldn’t have muted it, because she didn’t like being disturbed during her livestreams at all! It was meant to be a sweet surprise for her viewers, not some kind of chore to go through because of someone desperate to talk to her when they could wait for later.

Still, she eventually picked her pink cell, if only to look at who’s calling her. The name on the screen couldn’t mistake her: it’s Makoto. It seemed like she had also missed calls from Kazuichi and Kaito. That was weird… Why would the three of them call her at the same time? There must had been a reason for it. She picked up the call.

“Chiaki, finally!” Makoto sighed in relief from the other side of the line, but she could still tell he was very tense. His voice was shaking between every word.

“What’s wrong, Makoto? You sound so stressed…”

“Oh, huh, yeah, that’s why we were trying to call you! It’s about what happened a bit earlier at the shop…”

The supermarket, of course! Makoto, Kazuichi and Kaito all worked there. That made a common point between the three of them. She felt a lump forming in her throat, in anticipation for what was to come.

“Could you come to the supermarket as soon as possible? I’m afraid I won’t be able to explain you everything on the phone, I have stuff to attend to real quick! But please, please come as fast as you can, Chiaki!!”

The urgency in Makoto’s voice made her accept, even if she would had been more reluctant usually. Displaying a cold face, or at least one colder enough to get a mixed reaction from her worried viewers, she waved them goodbye and went offline. Without a word.

Her fingers were shaking. She didn’t have to be told to guess it was about Hajime. Why else would they all call her? It had to be about Hajime. She quickly grabbed her bag, her keys and headed outside as soon as possible, running down the stairs of her building, almost forgetting to lock the door to their flat.

In front of her apartment lot, was a car waiting for her, much to her surprise. In its driver’s seat, Kaito. Chiaki sat the passenger seat quicker than she could have ever expected coming from her, barely looking at him to thank him for the ride, or just to even say hello to him. How unpolite of her, but her anxiety was already growing to high levels.

“You really didn’t take long after Makoto called you, dontcha? It’s weird, cause you’re usually pretty slow!”

The car took off as soon as he stopped speaking, heading straight to the supermarket. And that was where everything fell apart to her eyes.

Chiaki ran straight to Makoto and Kazuichi, who were standing near the glass double-doors of the entrance. They both seemed sad, compared to their usual grins and smiles… This only meant trouble, and what kind of trouble and to what extent, she would soon know. Kaito followed closely behind her, his footsteps loud enough to be heard from far enough in the almost-empty parking.

“Makoto, Kazuichi, I’m here…! Sorry for the missed calls and lateness…!”

She was breathless, but she didn’t mind, as long as she got to know what was wrong and whatever she could do to fix it, as little as the fix would be.

Kazuichi looked at her with an uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm. At that point, it seemed like even a kiss from Sonia couldn’t make him look happier.

“So,” he told her in a calm voice, “you came, huh… Guess we don’t have much choice but to explain you what’s just happened, right?”

Makoto seemed very embarrassed upon seeing Kazuichi’s eyes laid upon him.

“Hajime… isn’t really here anymore…” is all the lucky boy added, looking down.

That was even worse! What had even happened in there?!

“What do you mean?” she asked, determined to squeeze an answer out of them.

“Yeah, guys,” Kaito arrived into the conversation, “Hajime was there when I left! Where is he?”

“We had to call an ambulance man!” Kazuichi yelled as his reply. “His fever wouldn’t stop rising, we got scared shitless!!”

Chiaki completely froze.

For once, she had an insistent glaze laid on everybody around her. It wasn’t really them she was blaming: of course they’d call an ambulance if their friend and workmate had a potentially lethal fever. No, it was an anger directed at both her, for not preventing this situation to happen when she could have done so in the morning, and at Hajime for being irresponsible again.

He truly hadn’t changed on that point since Hope’s Peak.

“Oh, right!” Makoto reacted. “You can’t know the full story yet, Chiaki! One of us will have to tell you when driving you to the hospital, since at least two of us need to remain here…”

“I’ll drive her myself,” Kaito said as he patted her shoulder. “You guys take care of the mall while I’m away, okay?”

“Copy that, Roger!”

It was with anxiety and an intense worry burning in her blood that Chiaki followed the astronaut-to-be to his car which he had sloppily parked when bringing her there.

Kaito’s story enabled her to put in pictures what had happened at the supermarket while she was hunting for a Reshiram she’d have to put on the side.

While they were ordering shelves, with desert alleys in dire need of restocking, he heard a weird thumping sound. Thinking it was just some product someone hadn’t put in there properly, Kaito went to check out what had caused the noise, as faint as it was.

He was confronted to his workmate and friend collapsed to the ground, face against the cold floor, having seemingly fallen from his stool as he was restocking soulmate-themed cereal boxes.

Growing instantly worried, he ran to Hajime, who fortunately was still breathing. He wasn’t breathing fine, that was for sure, as it was in ragged breaths, but he was alive. Not alive and well, that was for sure, but he was alive. He also didn’t seem to have hurt anything except for his nose and some quick bruises here and there on exposed parts of his skin.

Turning the older boy on his back revealed two things to Kaito: Hajime was paler than if Celestia Ludenberg and his best friend Shuichi had a corpse baby together, and that his cheeks and bridge of nose were redder than Himiko’s hair. He also happened to have dark rings under his eyes. Well, darker-than-usual rings that was. After all, Hajime always looked tired and done with everything ever.

(Chiaki couldn’t really contradict that. Hajime was, frankly, a bad sleeper who really enjoyed waking up early in the morning.)

Of course, Kaito immediately ran to warn Makoto and Kazuichi, who were in near alleys, about Hajime being half-dead on the cold-ass floor. He didn’t even think about checking the latter’s temperature: his face alone, and the heat beneath his fingers, were enough to give away how high the guy’s fever was.

Of course, Kazuichi immediately panicked. Despite the fact he used to be in Hajime’s class and was probably the one of them three to be the most aware and used to the ex-Ultimate Counsellor’s antics. Instead, it was Makoto who got the idea to bring their workmate to the break room, lay him on the sofa there and call for Chiaki and an ambulance.

(Kaito apologized for not remembering the ambulance call at first. Chiaki excused it as stress taking over his memory. After all, she was dead worried for Hajime too.)

And that was when she finally picked up their calls, or rather, their pleas for desperate help as they really didn’t know how to deal with the situation. Dead in their tracks. He didn’t have any idea: even if he was often sick, he wasn’t that insane.

(Chiaki nodded.)

The trip to the hospital had been deadly quiet on her part. Chiaki still couldn’t utter a single word, actually: she was worried beyond her mind, and words just wouldn’t exit her mind. Instead, it was a bit of a turmoil inside of her. The question was: how hadn’t she noticed something would go wrong?

Recalling her day as best as she could, she remembered he had woken up far before she did, leaving the flat before she could be out of bed. She swore she had heard some suspicious sounds here and there, probably tumbling. It was easy to brush it off as Hajime not being very awaken yet. But she should have known better.

She should have known he was an earlier bird than that.

Before she knew it, Chiaki was getting leaded into some corridors and into a hospital room. She knew it wouldn’t be as happy as the time they had all gone to check on Kazuichi who had broken his leg trying to please Sonia again (it had worked, somewhat, at least she had recognized the kind gesture). It would also not be as dark as Kaede telling them about that time Shuichi had almost strangled her in a delirium.

At least, she was certain Hajime didn’t have pneumonia. That was a plus, right? Else, she would have heard it, if Kaede’s descriptions were anything to go by.

In the room, she was left alone to face an occupied bed, door closing softly behind her. “I’ll let you two have some privacy” was the worst sentence ever when she barely knew what was wrong. Timidly, the gamer made her way to the bed, weary eyes fixated on the patient. She wasn’t scared of him: she was scared of what he had, and what he had done. There was always something terrifying, or at least intimidating about what he was capable of doing for the sake of something mundane.

Chiaki grabbed a nearby chair calmly, silently, and put it next to his bed. She sat just as noisily on it, sighing, afraid of studying his current condition from the outside, yet feeling the duty to do so. After all, she was his best friend and girlfriend. One of the things she owed him was to take care of him.

Kaito was right: Hajime looked tired all the time. However, it didn’t mean it couldn’t get worse: the Hajime before her eyes right at this moment was exhausted, if not worse. His dark rings had taken the shape of a dark purple canyon. It would have scared those who didn’t know him in his worst times: having see him overworked before, it didn’t scare her as much as it should have. It still made her worry, just as much even, but it wasn’t scary anymore.

The dark rings were alone on this face, though. While Hajime wasn’t as pale as a “corpse baby”, his skin had still lost a couple tones of colours, making him shades whiter than he usually was. That would be to ignore the important redness on his face: his cheeks were, indeed, tainted in a sickly shade of red.

His ragged breathing was one more indication of how unwell he actually was. How on Earth had he even been able to go to work in this condition? Sweat was rolling down his face, accompanying a pain look even in slumber and the other sickness symptoms he was showing. She could only wait for him to wake up to discuss everything she wanted to discuss.

Chiaki had dozed off without realizing it. She only realized it when she felt a hand shaking her shoulder gently, almost weakly, and stirred her eyes open. She woke up a bit quicker than usual, much to her surprise, before realizing she had napped in a room she wasn’t familiar with. Moments after that, she remembered where she was and why so: she was at the hospital, because Hajime had collapsed at work. Well, the collapse part was a hypothesis, but it had to be that, right?

The hand, in fact, belonged to him. He was half-sitting half-lying, a small smile on his face, and that despite his half-closed eyes and shabby breathing. He looked so weak… It was always weird to see him so vulnerable, far from his usual physical strength and both comforting and almost intimidating aura.

“Good morning, Chiaki…”

His smallest smile was driven with kindness even if it was, like everything about him right at this moment, weak.

“You shouldn’t be the one waking me up, Hajime…”

He snickers lightly.

“Why so…? You were asleep, weren’t ya…?”

“Because I’m not the sick one here!”

Hajime got taken aback, well, as aback as he could get when it seemed like his body had given up on him for the most part. Only then, did he weakly smile again, scoffing to himself.

“Heh, you’re right… I actually don’t recognize that place… We’re not in the staff room, right…?”

“Indeed, we’re at the hospital…”

Chiaki couldn’t bring herself not to be angry at him. She was, usually, never angry, except when stuff like that happened. According to her friends, it was anger born from worry, and she couldn’t see any other explanation to her uncharacteristic anger otherwise.

“I pissed you off, didn’t I…? Should have expected it as soon as I left…”

“Why are you doing this?”

He goes completely silent.

“I already explained to you countless times you shouldn’t be doing this for whatever reason you come up with… And so did everybody else… So, why are you doing this?”

The (cold) sweat running down his face was telling her he didn’t know himself. He never knew, in fact. He just kept doing because he considered it was his duty, or his obligations, and that you shouldn’t not accomplish your duty and said obligations.

Instead, his eyes looked at the IV in his wrist.

“Dunno… But I know I always tell you that I dunno… People keep telling me I can’t stop, they’re probably right… Haha…”

“I think that… If I hadn’t woken up so late, I may had been able to stop you…”

“What do you mean…?”

“You’ve been exhausted for a few days, yet I simply didn’t do anything against it…”

Hajime looked perplexed by her words. Who wouldn’t be? She wasn’t like that, usually, but she thought it was one of these times where she could express these kinds of feelings openly without them feeling too much out of place. It had happened before, in high school and afterwards.

“You’ll never stop if we don’t prevent you from throwing yourself in a fire… But I feel like I’ve already told you so. Multiple times, even, I think. I don’t feel like words serve a use anymore…”

“Guess I really am a stubborn guy, huh… Sorry for all the worries and fuss I caused, I’m sure the guys are gonna scream at me again later…”

“Why did you come to work sick, exactly?”

“Well… Today was supposed to be a busy day, at least this afternoon, so we were asked to come here to restock… And you know we need the money to buy you a new setup for your streams…”

Shot through the heart.

“Oh, Hajime… Don’t tell me you went to work sick because I want to replace my microphone and camera…”

He smiled.

“What if I did…? We need all the extra money we can get, especially since we’re still both in college and whatnot…”

“Yes, but not at the cost of your health!”

“Yeah, you’re right… Health’s expensive too…”

His deadpanned look and his illogical statements just screamed to her his brain was severely fevered.

“This isn’t what I meant… You need to take better care of yourself, Hajime. I know you’ve made some efforts for it in the past, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a long way to go… You should know by now overworking doesn’t bring you anything but pain and fevers…”

“But…”

“Don’t use the money argument, please… Not again… Life doesn’t work that way, Hajime…”

His smile faded.

“Yeah, I know that… You may be right when you say I need someone to stop me from doing stupid shit…”

Chiaki put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“So, let yourself some rest and care, okay? We’re all going to make sure you get the self-care you need…”

He laid back in bed.

“Yeah, let’s do that once I’ve actually slept…”

#sickfic #danganronpa #dr2 #hinanami #hajime hinata #chiaki nanami #makoto naegi #kaito momota #kazuichi soda #fever #overwork #whump #fluff #a bit angsty #otp: i need to thank you

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confetti-cake-key · 6 years

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Kpop Bigger Tag!

Tagged by the lovely @monbebana 💕 thank you dear!!

1.) 5 favorite groups?

SHINee, CNBLUE, B.A.P, B1A4 and BOYFRIEND

2.) Top 5 on your bias list?

Key (SHINee), Kyuhyun (Super Junior), Daehyun (B.A.P), Sandeul(B1A4) and JR (NU'EST) [I did one member per group, or else they would all be SHINee]

3.) Ult Bias group and why you love them?

SHINee!! These boys have always brought me so much happiness through their music and by just being themselves. They were the first group that I really explored deeper discography-wise, and I fell in love with all of their music, they have never disappointed me. I love how they are not afraid to explore different music genres and yet still have that SHINee quality to them. Each album offers something new and exciting, and yet their older music stands up against time. Like I will honestly never get tired of listening to replay or love like oxygen. These boys work hard just like any other group, however I can really feel the heart they put into their work a bit more than others. And the fact that SHINee is a family devoted to each other, and that they are open and honest to shawols made me feel like SHINee world was a comforting and accepting place to be a part of. They have some of the nicest fans, and the boys themselves are some of the sweetest people I’ve ever seen. I love them so much and I cannot thank them enough for all the positivity they have given me.

4.) Ult Bias and why you love them?

Key!! One of my SHINee boys <3. When I first learned the members of SHINee, I had the hardest time with choosing a bias let me tell you. Ultimately, Key stole my heart. He has such a unique sense of humor that I really appreciate, that is straight forward and honest. Not only that, but he is not afraid to express himself whether it be through his extra-ness or even his fashion. He really puts himself out there with a confidence I wish I had. Key also has a kind heart and is not afraid to express his emotions as well, he looks out for his members and he cares about others. Not to mention that he donates money to provide art supplies to school children every year so that they can have an outlet in which to express themselves creatively. His voice is also very unique and the fact that he can rap and also sing is amazing to me (I would love to hear a solo song by him). Lastly, his smile always warms my heart and I love seeing him be happy as well as the other members.

5.) Favorite Kpop Meme

This is so hard! There are so many good kpop memes!! These are ones I use often in my friend group chat:

6.) Favorite pic of your ult? (I dare you to only pick one)

How dare you make me pick only one! I have so many faves! Therefore I will cheat the system!

This is Key we're talking about here, so don't torture me with this 'pick only one' dare. He is very handsome and I'm gonna show it goddamn it!

7.) 5 Favorite Kpop MVs

Sherlock (SHINee), Rain (KNK), Fantasy (VIXX), Bounce (Boyfriend) and It’s Raining (Snuper). Bonus: Lilliliabbay (Seventeen Performance Unit).

8.) 10 Favorite Kpop songs?

[Not in any order + I’m limiting myself to one song per group]=> Rain (KNK), Fermate (B.A.P), Symptoms (SHINee), Witch (Boyfriend), Platonic Love (Snuper), Error (VIXX), Pray/I’ll be your man (BTOB), Crazy in Love (Seventeen), Only Learned Bad Things (B1A4) and Hello (NU'EST).

9.) Favorite Kpop crack video?

My best friend makes amazing Snuper videos, including snuper crack vids, check it out at @snupersstar for some quality content!

Also, the Gucci slippers SHINee crack video and the one for Jonghyun's solo debut part are also prime. The one that has voiceover and is basically just a lip-reading but the humor is so dry it's hilarious.

10.) Favorite content creator within the fandom?

I'm not really sure who all are content creators, but shoutout to all you content creators blogs! Thank you for keeping us updated! Honestly Tumblr is my main way to check in on my kpop groups, that's how I found out SHINee was coming to America for SWV and I was able to go see them live since I found out ahead of time, thank you!!

11.) What fandoms would you say you’re an active member of?

Shawols/SHINee world (SHINee), Baby (B.A.P), Swing (Snuper), Bana (B1A4), Monbebe (Monsta X), Tinkerbell (KNK) and Carat (Seventeen).

[I’m basing this on how up to date I am on each group, although I love a lot of groups]

12.) Take your top 3 biases- fmk

F - Daehyun

Marry - Key

Kill with kindness - I’d kill Kyuhyun with a bear hug but please don’t actually kill him

13.) If you could be best friends with any idol, who would you choose?

Minho (SHINee), Sandeul, Minhyuk (Monsta X), DK/Vernon/Seungkwan (Seventeen bros), Sangho/Sebin/Woosung (Snuper). I find this question hilarious since me and my best friend talk about this a lot hahaha.

14.) If you could date any idol, who?

Um, obviously I'd date all Six of my boyfriends!

Hahaha, just kidding although I do love Boyfriend. I'd probs say Jihun from KNK so that he doesn't have to go to restaurants alone, because it was his one fear that they made him face on a TV show and let's be honest no one likes to be alone. Plus when it comes to Jihun, I would do anything for that boy. (I'm super Jihun bias that it's not even funny)

15.) What’s one Kpop album you think everyone should have listened to?

Sherlock/Everybody (SHINee), Noir/Carnival (B.A.P), Blueming (CNBLUE), Gravity Completed (KNK), A1 sauce (Seventeen), Meteor/Rain of mind (SNUPER), Janus/Witch (Boyfriend) and Rebirth (NU'EST).

16.) Are you a soft or a hard stan?

Both, though more-so soft stan because I like to live thanks. (Although a sharply dressed person in a nice suit or even leather jackets are my weakness)

17.) An idol that makes you go into soft mode?

Sangho (my ultimate son), I honestly love soft Sangho 10/10 would recommend. Honorable mention: Minhyuk from (Monsta x).

18.) An idol that makes you want to smash the empire state building with one single punch?

Anyone who is in violation with the CAA cops, being rude, lookin at you Wonho (monsta x) and even you Ooon (halo)!! 👀👀

19.) Favorite vocalist?

Kyuhyun, Sandeul, Jonghyun (SHINee), Taemin, Daehyun, Suhyun, Sunmi and Ailee.

20.) Favorite Rapper?

Key, Minho, Ravi, Yongguk, Zelo, Baro, Taewoong+Sebin, Peniel+Minhyuk, Jooheon+I.M, Hyuna and Amber (my queen).

21.) Favorite dancer?

Taemin, Jihun, Sangho, Zelo+Jongup, Hoshi+Dino, N, Hyungwon and Sunmi.

22.) Things you have in common with your ult?

love for shoes/clothes, loves dogs, afraid of heights and loves ketchup/food in general.

23.) The most beautiful trait any idol can have?

Humble & Respectful. <= Agreed (but also I have found a trend within my bias list, most of my biases are loud children of their respective group or they are the leader of their respective group.)

24.) Songs that will always make you jam along?

Baby Good Night, Baby I’m Sorry, Solo Day (B1A4) Platonic Love, Back Hug, It’s raining, Shall We Dance (Snuper), Stuck, Jealousy, Hero, Dramarama (Monsta X), BANG BANG BANG (BIGBANG), Hello, Hello (B.I.G), Lucifer, Ring Ding Dong, Sherlock, Everybody, Like a fire, Perfect 10, Stranger (SHINee), U, Knock (KNK), Plz don’t be sad, Could be better (Hig5lig5t), Runaway, Gorilla, Shine (Pentagon), Crazy, Hate (4MINUTE), Gashini (Sunmi), Something (Girl's day), Electric Shock (f(x)). Clap, Trauma, Change up, Lilliabbay, Don't wanna cry, Crazy in love (Seventeen). Honestly I could keep going!

25.) Your worst wrecker?

Jonghyun will always be my ult. bias wrecker. However, Mr.Sadman (Hyungwon) will also forever be a bias wrecker. Donghyun from Boyfriend also completely biased wrecked me into becoming my second bias in Boyfriend.

26.) Any kpop concerts you’ve been to?

B1A4 four nights (NYC 2017), B.A.P Party Baby (NYC 2017), SHINee World V (Dallas 2017) and KCON (Newark 2017).

This year I have tickets to go to KCON (Newark) and Monsta x: The Connect (Newark)!!

27.) Favorite choreo?

Definitely It's Raining by Snuper has to be up there, due to the footwork alone. Also U by KNK because it kills me everytime (Jihun is in his element and out to kill). And pretty much all of SHINee's choreography (though Lucifer and everybody choreo is legendary). Also I love the collab song between NU'EST W and Seventeen, Heaven, it's choreography is ridiculous and amazing. Also, Lilliabbay by Seventeen's performance unit is a work of art. Plus Pentagon's funny choreography for Shine gives me life.

28.) Favorite live performance?

SHINee: Almost any Tokyo dome performance, Odd eye live (the one with key's eye patch), Symptoms live, Selene 6.23 live and honestly tell me what to do live with all the members wearing chokers. Also taemin's sayonara hitori hit the stage with koharu.

KNK: Angel heart live, Rain (the live perf. with the cool laser lights as the rain)

SNUPER: Platonic love in the 80s outfits live, You=Heaven perf. with the sailor uniforms (Sangho is so soft), Almost every it's raining performance, every Tulips live too

B.A.P: That single One Shot performance where Daehyun goes insane during his high notes

VIXX: Havana performance, nuff said.

NU'EST W+Seventeen: Heaven (their dance practice is really good too), also I'm a sucker for crazy in love performances.

29.) Favorite debut mv?

SHINee (Replay), B.A.P (Warrior), NU’EST (Face), EXO (Mama), Knock (KNK) and Snuper (Shall we Dance).

30.) Recommend a rookie group!

ROOKIE TRINITY! KNK, SNUPER and ASTRO!!

31.) A kpop song you could listen to every day for the rest of your life?

💕 KNK: Sun, Moon, Star 💕

32.) Tag some cute mutuals you’d like to get to know better (and to do this challenge)!

@snupersstar , @wishfulunicorns , @1991shinwoo and anyone else who wants to do this!! I'm sorry for writing an essay ;_;

#kpop #i was tagged #tagged #about me

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ameerawritesstuff · 6 years

Note

I can't decide! 51 through 54 struck me h a r d. If you wanted to do any of them that would be amazing. 51: “ I want to take care of you. ” 52: “ Can we cuddle? ” 53: “ It’s lonely here without you. ” 54: “ I can’t stand the thought of loosing you. ”

I DID THEM ALL BECAUSE YES

51 “I Want To Take Care of You”

“I want to take care of you.” When Garak said that, Julian was sure he was joking. “Therefore, I volunteered for the job.”

“What job?” Julian asked in tired confusion. He had just woken up to Garak in his quarters (again) and now the Cardassian was going on about taking care of him?

“The Senior Staff of this station has reached the consensus that you need to take a break from work.” Garak said happily. “I said I would be happy to ensure you rest.”

“You’re joking.” Julian laughed. When Garak’s face didn’t change, Julian’s eyes grew wide. “You’re serious?!”

“Yes, doctor.” Garak smiled.

“You’re telling me Commander Sisko asked you to…” Julian shook his head. “I don’t even know what to call this.”

“It was really Commander Dax and Chief O’Brien who felt there was a need.” Garak admitted. “And, again, no one asked me. I volunteered.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Julian frowned.

“You were imprisoned for a month, replaced by a changeling, and then had your most closely-guarded secret revealed to the world.” Garak challenged. “Not to mention, your father was just sent to prison. You’ve been advised to take some time off, but you haven’t.”

“So now you’re going to ensure I do nothing productive?” Julian groaned.

“I’m going to ensure that you actually relax for once.” Garak said as he moved to the side of Julian’s bed. “Now, what can I do for you.”

“I don’t suppose you can simply leave me alone?” Julian sighed. “But, honestly, Garak, this is unnecessary.”

“Humor me then.” Garak smiled and he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ll admit that this is for my own good as well as yours.” Julian looked at Garak in confusion and the Cardassian looked regretful. “I should have taken care of you earlier, so I’m trying to make up for how greatly I’ve failed you.”

“You saved us all from the prison camp.” Julian said. “It’s not your fault that you didn’t know about the changeling. You came when I needed you and you saved me.” He tried to soothe Garak with a warm smile, but Garak simply looked away.

“It’s not just that.” Garak whispered. “I should have stopped Zimmerman.” Garak gave Julian a pained expression. “I should have protected you.”

“You didn’t know I needed protecting.” Julian chuckled, not really understanding.

“But I should have.” Garak said. “You are very dear to me, and yet I have failed you again and again.” Julian found himself placing his hand on top of Garak’s.

“Garak, you have never failed me.” Julian said firmly. “You say I’m dear to you, that’s all I’ve wanted.” Garak looked deep into Julian’s eyes and Julian could feel the two of them closing the gap between them. It was slow and subtle, but Julian felt the electricity in the air before a kiss.

“Well, I can still take care of you now.” Garak said quickly as he stood up, stopping their lips from every touching. “Wait right here and I’ll prepare breakfast for you.” Julian was left alone in bed, blinking in confusion as he wondered what just happened?

52 “Can We Cuddle?”

“Can we cuddle?” Julian asked as if he was more desperate than he was. “To huddle for warmth, I mean.” He was only a bit chilly himself, nothing too uncomfortable, but he knew Garak must be freezing and was too prideful to ask.

“That would probably be prudent.” Garak nodded stiffly, clearly trying to keep himself from shivering. Julian walked over to the cot in their crashed runabout and motioned for Garak to lie down first.

“Don’t fight me on this,” Julian began once he was lying on top of Garak. “But I’m going to ask you to take off the survival jacket.” Garak gave Julian a horrified look. “Just so we can both use it as a blanket! It will keep us both warmer that way in the long run.” Garak frowned but awkwardly moved himself out of the jacket and then quickly draped it over the two of them.

“That’s better.” Julian smiled as he lay his head on Garak’s chest. “Are you tired? We can try to go to sleep if you’d like.”

“There is no way I will be able to sleep when it’s this c-c-cold.” Garak looked angry at himself for letting his teeth chatter.

“Good, because I’m wide awake myself.” Julian smiled, trying his best to make Garak feel better. “You know, I never got to tell you my thoughts on He Falters.” It had been a Cardassian play that Garak had recommended to Julian a little while ago, but they hadn’t had the chance to discuss it.

“A cautionary tale.” Garak nodded.

“A tragedy.” Julian clarified. “Dronar is ultimately punished for sacrificing so much for his wife.” Garak let out the long suffering sigh he always let out when he was about to correct Julian. Julian rather liked feeling it from Garak’s chest.

“Dronar is punished for lying.” Garak shook his head. “He should have reported his wife as insane when she first started to go mad.”

“She would have been disowned by her father!” Julian argued. “Her father’s approval meant everything to her.”

“So you viewed his defense of her as sentimental…” Garak chuckled. “My dear, he only wants to keep the connection to his father-in-law due to the man’s status.”

“That was an element.” Julian conceded. “But by the end when Dronar is arrested, he would have been released if he’d revealed her madness necessitating him stealing the medicine.”

“It still would have been stealing.” Garak scoffed.

“No room for compassion in the Cardassian heart?” Julian smirked.

“None.” Garak said stoically.

“That means you’re not cuddling with me now because I asked.” Julian challenged. “If you’re truly self-serving, you just admitted that you’re doing this for your own benefit.”

“It’s no secret that I’m cold.” Garak scowled. “And since we can’t be rescued until after the storm passes, I’m doing my best to survive.”

“But it was my suggestion.” Julian countered with a smirk. “You were too proud to ask despite having the greater need. So if everything you do is without compassion, that means you had a selfish motivation for remaining cold as well.” Julian sighed and clicked his tongue. “Now, what could that reason be?”

“Don’t forget that we Cardassians are also naturally xenophobic.” Garak said with amusement. “Perhaps the idea of letting a Human be so close to me is just too repulsive.”

“Even though my being Human means I’m a better heat source?”

“While the heat is lovely, there’s still a certain mammalian stench that…” Garak inhaled deeply and shook his head. “Frankly, is unmistakable.”

“Unmistakable doesn’t mean unpleasant.” Julian grinned. He then noticed he could hear how fast Garak’s heartbeat was as he lay there on his chest. He glanced at Garak’s face and saw that his scales had changed color ever so slightly to a pale blue. Julian blinked in surprise and then smirked. “Garak… are you aroused right now?”

“Really, doctor!” Garak said as if he were horribly offended. Still, he didn’t deny it.

“You are, aren’t you!” Julian accused with laughter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Garak said, looking a bit miffed.

“Garak, it’s alright.” Julian said softly as he raised his hand to Garak’s cheek. Garak’s eyes were wide with surprise as Julian pulled him into a kiss. “We have to do something to pass the time, right?” Julian purred.

“Hmm?” Garak’s eyes had slipped closed and his scales had flushed a dark shade almost like charcoal.

“After all, you said you couldn’t sleep.” Julian continued as he moved his hand down Garak’s chest.

“I suppose we might as well.” Garak breathed as he moved his own hand down Julian’s back. The frigid air of the shuttle was all but forgotten.

53 “It’s Lonely Here Without You”

My Dear Garak,

It’s lonely here without you. Without everyone. I was lonely before Ezri left, to tell the truth, but it solidified how much I was using her to fill the void.

Nerys and I get drinks and reminisce about old times at Quark’s. It ends up making me more depressed somehow. I’ve been trying to spend more time with Jake as well; I can’t imagine the pain he’s going through. Kassidy is great for him, and I think her pregnancy gives him a nice distraction that makes him feel closer to his father, but it’s clear he’s hurting.

I’m not trying to burden you with my woes, you certainly have enough of your own as you rebuild. I’m just trying to say that you’re missed and if you ever have reason to visit, well, I’d be more than delighted to see you.

Miles actually was here last week for a few days. He said it was to help his replacement get used to this “Cardie Bastard” but I think he secretly missed DS9. We played darts and a few holoprograms but it actually didn’t feel like enough.

What I’m trying to say is that I miss you, Garak. I would even if everyone else was still here. I hardly go to the replimat anymore since it feels wrong to eat there without you. How pathetic is that? I’ve turned one of the most generic parts of the station into “our place.” I even reread The Never-Ending Sacrifice, I’ve been thinking about you so much. I still find it to be one of the most tedious things I’ve ever read, but I enjoyed imagining your criticisms of my thoughts.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say exactly. Please write back?

Always,

Julian Bashir

54 “I Can’t Stand The Thought of Losing You”

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” Julian smiled as he stroked Garak’s hair. “Now that we’re finally together, I don’t ever want to leave this bed.”

“Fear of losing you is what motivated this in the first place.” Garak smiled back. “When the Defiant went off to find the Founders… it seemed as if you wouldn’t come back at first.”

“But I did.” Julian reminded and then lay a soft kiss on Garak’s cheek. “And you were here to greet me.” Julian bit his lip. “And the Founders are willing to negotiate, so everything worked out.”

“You really think it’s going to be that easy?” Garak frowned. “I don’t trust those violet eyed tyrants and you shouldn’t either.”

“I never said I trusted them.” Julian protested. “I just don’t want a war and it seems like they don’t either.”

“And how much are you willing to sacrifice in order to prevent a war?” Garak pressed.

“Do we have to talk about this?” Julian whined. “We’re finally together and all you want to talk about is our impending doom?”

“I never said ‘impending doom’.” Garak countered. “But it’s interesting that you did.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Julian sighed. “But I do know, without a doubt, that we’ll face whatever it is together and I’m not going to leave your side.” They kissed after he made that promise. A promise Julian would have kept even after Garak lay their lifeless on the floor, if Commander Sisko hadn’t pulled him away.

When Julian woke up from the simulation, all he could think about was Garak.

#star trek ds9 #Garak/Bashir #garak x bashir #garashir #prompted writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fic

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jungkookienoona · 7 years

Text

The Meme and His Tutor

Part 27: The Day Awkward Questions Were Asked

Co-written with @tragicshadows

Recommended Song: Dimple by BTS (Vocal Line sub-unit)

|All Chapters|Masterlist|

Summary:

Jungkook finally tells you what's been bothering him and you both reveal more than you expected to.

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2959

Length: 27?

The clock was mocking you. It had been twenty minutes since Jungkook had messaged you to see if you were free to Skype, and after confirming your lack of plans he said he would give you a call. He must've been held up with something. He was always so busy lately that you wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't even made it back to the dorm yet.

You sighed and slumped in your seat. Patience had never been your strong point but you were working on it. Deciding not to bore yourself by staring at a screen you got up to make a hot drink. The question was what did you make? You grabbed the tub of hot chocolate powder and noticed you probably had just enough for one mug. Decision made.

You were just spooning the powder into a mug of hot milk when you heard the distinct ringing of a Skype call. Shit.

You tipped the powder directly from the container into the mug, stirring as you briskly walked over to your laptop and clicked accept.

"You really know how to time things don't you?" You chuckled.

"Well hello to you too." Jungkook grinned. He ran his hand through his hair while raising a curious eyebrow at you. "Did I interrupt something?"

You raised your mug, "I was making a drink."

He looked off camera then held up his own mug, "Snap! I have green tea but I'm guessing yours begins with hot and ends in chocolate."

You shot him a grin and took a sip of your chocolatey beverage. When you placed the mug back down Jungkook giggled.

"What?"

He gestured to the area above his upper lip, "Moustache."

You tilted your head in confusion. Moustache? What was he on about?

"Noona," he ducked his head, hand covering his mouth as he laughed. "You have a chocolate moustache. Wipe your mouth."

Oh…

You used the back of your hand to wipe your mouth, instinctively licking the chocolate from it.

Jungkook shook his head with an amused grin, "You really are a Kitten."

You poked your tongue out at him then shifted into a more comfortable position in your chair.

"Busy day?"

He wrinkled his nose. He could say you were a kitten all he liked, but he was definitely a bunny.

"A lot of meetings. A lot of talking."

"About the comeback?"

"Nope," He said, popping the P.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he ruffled his hair.

"Then why?"

"It's a surprise."

You couldn’t help the way your brows knitted together and your lips pressed into a firm line.

"Is this the same surprise you told me about or something different?"

His lips puckered in thought, "It's complicated."

Complicated? How could it be complicated?

"Noona... do you mind showing me your room?"

"Uuuuh... why?"

"You've seen my room. It's only fair."

You glanced over your shoulder and at your hastily made bed and the few items of clothing strewn over it. Eh, it could be worse.

"Um, okay."

Picking up your laptop with one hand and your mug in the other, got up from your seat.

"This is going to be a tad awkward since I have to use my laptop to show you around. And I have some boxes here and there."

"What's in the boxes?"

"Just stuff I won't be taking with me."

You placed your mug aside on your dresser and turned your laptop around so the camera faced outwards. Standing in the centre of the room, you slowly turned around on the spot to give Jungkook a full 360-degree tour.

"You've seen this wall in the background of our calls," you said pointing to the wall opposite your desk.

You heard what sounded like a notepad flipping open. Frowning, you continued to point out various items in your room from your merch collection to your single bed.

"Your bed is so small Noona."

"Well, I can't exactly afford bigger. And yours was the same size."

"Yeah, but you deserve bigger. I like my bed, less room means more reason to cuddle up."

He had a point; his bed was just the right size for cuddling. Which meant that yours was too. He laughed when you pointed it out to him.

"But I'm not there to cuddle you in it, Noona."

"Then come cuddle me," You mumbled earning a chuckle.

"If I could I would, Noona. Now, show me some more."

You quickly showed him the rest of your room before moving on to the rest of your small apartment. It was a stroke of luck that you even had a living room at all. Normally such cheap apartments didn't have one.

"Noona, I'm noticing a theme."

"A theme?" You paused in the doorway to your tiny kitchen.

"Ye, a lot of dark colours. I knew you liked dark clothing but didn't think your whole apartment would be mainly black, red and purple."

"Don't judge. They're my favourite colours."

He chuckled and you turned your laptop to face you. He was grinning, eyes smiling, as his chuckling continued but only slightly quieter.

"I don't laugh at you for your 24 white t-shirts. Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not laughing at you Jagiya. It's just so adorable that you surround yourself with the colours you like."

"Surrounding myself with colours I don't like would make me miserable," You pointed out and walked back into the living room to take a seat on the sofa. "So that's basically it apart from my bathroom but you don't want to see that."

He seemed to write something down before looking at you with curious eyes, "Does your bathroom have a bathtub? I heard most English homes have a tub."

A longing sigh slipped past your lips.

"Sadly I don't. I've had nothing but showers for a year now."

He began writing again but you couldn't see what.

"What are you doing?"

His head snapped up. A pair of wide eyes peering back at you.

"Writing."

"It looks like you're taking notes."

He bit his lip, chewing on it slightly. In thought or out of nerves you didn't know.

"They say a person's home can tell you a lot about them. I wanna know Noona inside and out. I want to be a Noona Expert like Noona is a Kookie Expert."

You giggled, "Fair enough. Maybe one day I'll give you a quiz to see how much you've learnt about me."

He sat up a little straighter as if facing up to a challenge.

"And I'll pass with flying colours. Which reminds me..." He began to twiddle with the hem of his shirt, "Has Noona... has Noona ever had a boyfriend?"

Your smile dropped. You knew this day would come, it was better to tell him sooner rather than later.

"I've had a few... My longest relationship lasted two years. But that ended nearly two years ago now."

“Oh...well I guess you are older than me." He scratched the back of his neck. He hesitated as if wondering whether to continue on the subject.

"You can ask me questions, Kookie. I don't mind."

"Were they older than me?"

You nodded, "But they were all 97 liners like you. At first, I thought it was a curse that only younger guys liked me. Though I can't complain anymore now that I have you."

He smirked, seemingly proud of changing your mind.

"Golden Maknae powers."

You chuckled, "Don't get cocky. We've just started dating."

He sent you a wink, "You won't get rid of me. You're stuck with me."

"I've had a couple of guys say that before but obviously that wasn't true..."

"Those guys weren't me... why did your last relationship end?"

You hesitated before answering, wishing you had your hot chocolate with you.

"He... he cheated on me with a younger girl. His best friend's ex to be precise."

Jungkook tutted, "What a dick."

"Agreed."

"Cheaters are the ultimate assholes."

You couldn't help but be taken aback again by his swearing, laughing at his pissed off expression.

"Don't laugh, I'm being serious! What kind of asshole cheats on a Noona as smart and beautiful as you. A Noona so kind and caring she goes back to an abusive home every week to make sure her siblings are okay. He threw you away without a second thought and I hate it."

He ran a hand through his hair, not caring when it stood up on end in every direction.

"It was awful. But it was two years ago. You don't need to worry about me. I've got you now."

"Exactly. And you won't have to worry about me cheating or anything... I've been… having nightmares about you leaving me."

Your eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets. He was worried about you leaving him?!

"You're having nightmares about me?!"

He palmed his face and when he looked back up you could see the lingering exhaustion on his features.

"About you leaving me, us being separated or someone forcing us apart... It keeps happening and it's driving me insane."

You remembered back to a couple of weeks ago when Jungkook had refused to go to sleep while you were visiting your family. So that was why.

"I've been having nightmares too. Not about you or anything like that. They're more stress-induced."

"Is it uni?"

You nodded, "Mainly. So I know how you feel."

He sighed, "What do we do? I feel like I've tried everything. Even worked out before bed to exhaust me into sleeping but they won't stop."

You felt sorry for the poor boy. Even when exhausted he couldn't find peace. The was no doubt in your mind that the distance wasn't helping.

"I wish I could help..."

Jungkook perked up like he had an idea.

"Actually you can help, Noona. I slept peacefully when you sang to me."

"Do you want me to sing to you again?"

He nodded, "I could do the same for you if you want. Chubs told me you would sometimes listen to my covers at night or when anxious."

Since when were those two so friendly?

"When did she tell you that?"

"When I was writing your songs. She said it was a good idea because you liked to fall asleep to my voice."

You smiled, "Once I was having a panic attack and listened to your covers to try and calm down. I ended up becoming so calm I fell asleep."

He awed, lips lifting into a smile and revealing his dimples. You felt your chest tighten at just how adorable he looked. The things you would do to be back in his company so you could kiss those adorable cheeks of his.

"So it's settled. I'll sing you to sleep if you sing me to sleep."

"Deal."

Jungkook clapped happily, a habit you had found yourself picking up, then leant forward and kissed his camera. He sat back with a frown.

"It's not the same as kissing Noona."

"Kookie, you asked me if I had any previous relationships... have you had any?"

He scratched the back of his neck, "A couple but none that lasted long."

"Were they, like, in school or..."

You were a little unsure how to approach the topic of dating within the Idol universe. You'd heard rumours, read articles seen theory videos of other artists involved in relationship scandals and the like. Dating bans within companies were a thing and as far as you were aware BigHit didn't impose those rules on BTS.

A nervous chuckle sounded from him, "I had one in middle school and the other was back in Busan around the time of I Need U..."

The fancam of Hoseok asking what was tasty in Busan and Jungkook whispering something to him flashed through your mind. You found your cheeks heating up.

"Needless to say it didn't work out. We parted mutually and that was that. I haven't spoken to them since. I couldn't even tell you if they were in the country anymore."

You nodded along, "At least it was mutual."

Jungkook shifted in his seat, "Yeah. There is one thing I want to ask you but it may be way too soon..."

You wondered what constituted as too soon. Marriage? Children? Meeting his parents?

"What is it?"

"Uh..." he dropped his gaze to his hands that once again picked at the hem of his t-shirt. "Since you were in a relationship for a while I was wondering if you...umm, you know...ever-"

"-had sex?"

His face turned beet red, even the tips of his ears.

"Y-yeah. That."

You giggled at his embarrassment.

"It is a little soon to ask but yeah… I ended up losing my virginity to him 2 weeks into the relationship. My friends had convinced me that the sooner you put out the longer the relationship lasts but clearly that wasn't true."

He gave a small chuckle, "That seems like really bad advice."

"Definitely was. I don't recommend it."

He hummed in agreement. "We've technically been dating for over two weeks anyway so..." He gave you a little cheeky smile before glancing back down at his lap.

Good thing you didn't have your drink with you otherwise you would've choked on it.

"We've been dating for over a month now. And as much as I love your thighs I don't think I will be putting out at all."

He shrugged, "That's fair. It wouldn't be fun unless Noona was entirely comfortable with it."

You opened your mouth to suggest changing the conversation topic when a thought came to mind.

"Since we're on the topic and you asked me...can I ask you the same question?"

He became a spluttering mess, hands coming up to hide his face which was once again turning red. An evil grin spread across your face.

"You haven't, have you? You're still a virgin."

More spluttering.

"You don't have to be so shy around me, Kookie. It's not like it matters."

He let out a long groan, sagging his shoulders and spreading his fingers to peer at you through them.

"It's embarrassing."

"And why's that?"

Finally, he uncovered his face to rest his hands on the table.

"Because I've done the other stuff just not full blown sex. And I see what people say. People think I'm not a virgin because of my looks or because of how well I grind on a floor!”

"And the hip thrusts." You added quietly.

He stopped to give you an unimpressed look. You muttered an apology and gestured for him to continue.

“It makes me self-conscious. I don't like it. Being on stage and doing all that stuff is a performance. I'm dancing. Doing the...actual do is different."

He had a point there.

"Does that mean the fans that treat you like a naive child make you more comfortable?"

He shook his head.

"It's annoying to be treated like a child at all because that's what I was when they met me. I know I say I have the mind of a minor but I didn't mean it that way."

"You want them to see you for who you are, not who they think you are based on the way you act on stage."

He hummed in agreement.

"I know it's hard because there's such a distance between ARMY and me, but I try to be as honest as I can when doing Vlives so they have a better idea of who I am."

He yawned and stretched causing you to look at the time. It was late. Really late. Shit.

"You should go to bed. We can start our deal now."

He tiredly nodded and stood up, interlocking his arms over his head and stretching again.

"I'll go change."

He tilted his own laptop screen slightly so you could only see a sliver of his room but what you could mainly see was a keyboard. While he was busy you got up and grabbed your hot chocolate, a pout forming when you realised it had gone cold. You could microwave it later, though.

You sat back down and waited for him to reappear. When he did you noticed the lights were off apart from a desk lamp. He was in a loose t-shirt and shorts that looked far more comfortable to sleep in than the shirt and jeans he was wearing previously.

He set the laptop down on the bed like last time and climbed between the sheets. He reached behind him and produced a little ginger cat that made your face light up.

"Honey!"

He nodded and nuzzled the plush toy.

"Noona, do you mind if I request a song?"

"I don't mind, BunBun."

"Could you sing 2U?"

You smiled and nodded, remembering back to the Spotify playlist he made you that had his own cover of the song.

"Close your eyes and dream about all the fun things we did on my last trip."

"Mhm, I love you." He mumbled before closing his eyes.

"I love you too," you said then cleared your throat and began to sing.

Good thing you didn't drink that much hot chocolate or your vocals would've been ruined. You watched as he drifted off to sleep, the day's stress fading off his features. His light snores caused you to smile gently.

A sneaky thought crossed your mind and you quickly took a screenshot of him sleeping before ending the call. You still couldn't quite believe that he had been hiding his nightmares from you. Admittedly, you had been too. But his were about you. Losing you, to be exact.

Jeon Jungkook was worried about losing you, the person that no one in the world seemed to want. And for once, you felt special.

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