Blindspot Fanfiction

(Part 1)  (Also on FF.net.)

Blindspot fanfic. Jeller. Remi tries to make sense of a world that makes no sense to her anymore. (Season 4 Speculation.)

Allie and Bethany came to visit two days later.

Remi opened the door to them, Kurt following more slowly behind. As soon as Allie set Bethany on her feet, the toddler made a beeline for her father. “Daddeeeee!”

Kurt crouched down on the floor, arms open to his daughter, but Bethany stopped just shy of his grasp. Then she got down in her own diminutive crouch, a small mirror reflection of her father. With a look of intense concentration, she leaned forward and placed an extremely gentle kiss on his stomach. “Aww bedder?” she asked, looking up at him.

Kurt nodded, making no effort to hide the tears in his eyes. “All better, baby. Thank you.”

Bethany nodded solemnly and allowed her father to pull her in for a hug.

And a moment later, Remi found herself the recipient of a similarly fierce hug from Allie.

Blindspot fanfic. Jeller. Season 4 Speculation. (Also on FF.net.)

Author’s Note: If you’ve been around my tumblr for any length of time, you might have noticed that I do NOT cope well with season finales. I basically generate these strange, semi-coherent stream of consciousness thoughts (I can’t even call them fics) until I have exorcised enough demons that I can wait semi-patiently for the fall premiere (or go lose myself in AU fics; that’s the next step in this program). I apologize in advance for these rambles. I am currently obsessing over what Remi thinks about Jane’s life.

She was doing a pretty good job, Remi thought, pretending to be an attentive wife while Weller recuperated. His meds made him sleepy, so she made sure that he always took them on time.

The FBI wasn’t as hard to fool as she would have expected. They fussed over her almost as much as they did Kurt. (Damn, she really had done a great job pulling the wool over their eyes.) She figured out quickly that if she kept her mouth shut most of the time, she was fine. And if that wasn’t an option, she just had to give a tiny frown and raise a hand to her forehead, and they immediately suggested that she rest, too.

Rest. She snorted inwardly. She didn’t need rest, she needed answers. And so while Weller slept, she systematically searched every inch of the apartment for clues. She checked all of the places she would have used to hide a burner phone or a memory stick or anything she would have wanted to hide from Weller. She searched the vents, the underside of all the drawers. She looked for loose floorboards, for false backs or bottoms in closets and cabinets, for empty spaces behind switchplates or light fixtures. But every search came up empty.

So, yeah, way too late for Christmas. Although last year I think I was still writing Christmas in March, so maybe this is an improvement? But anyway, this is from a brainstorming idea I gave @zumbagirl8302 and then promptly took back to try to exorcise the scene I saw in my head. I know tonight’s episode is going to shatter my heart into a million pieces, so here is an alternative to canon angst. If you need me, I’ll be living here until Jeller gets their shit sorted.

The streets of New York were unusually quiet at 8 p.m. on Christmas Eve, but Jane barely noticed as she went up the steps to Kurt’s– to their apartment, she mentally corrected herself. She’d been staying with Patterson for the past week, but Patterson had left that afternoon to visit her family for the holiday. She had invited Jane to join her, just as Tasha had invited her to spend Christmas with her abuela. But Jane had turned them both down. Deep inside, she knew where she belonged.

She was still angry, she acknowledged, as the elevator climbed to her floor, but even more, she missed her husband. She hadn’t even seen him in days. He’d taken a short-term assignment, unrelated to the tattoo cases, Reade had told her. But Patterson had let her know that he would be back today, and Jane knew it was time to go home. This was the first Christmas they’d spent in the same city since they’d gotten married. They had planned to buy a tree and decorate right after Hirst’s arrest, but instead Kurt had told her the truth about Avery, and she’d walked out.

But if you couldn’t fix your marriage at Christmas, the time of peace on earth and goodwill toward men, when could you?

Day 30: Tattoos

A/N: So, this is it, the last day of the prompt challenge! I’m so happy to have gotten through it - I really enjoyed it, but it was definitely harder than I thought it was going to be! I just want to say thank you SO MUCH for all of your wonderful feedback throughout the past few weeks! Your comments have blown me away, I never anticipated any of it and I’m so glad that you enjoyed reading my creations. Naturally, after today, I’m going to take a little break from fic writing for a bit (my brain definitely needs a recharge!) but I’ll continue writing soon. So, for the last time during this challenge, enjoy this little drabble!

They had been asking each other questions all morning. They’d woken up earlier than planned, but they didn’t want to get up just yet, so they decided to lie on in bed, their legs tangled together underneath the sheets. They asked each other questions back and forth, back and forth.

Day 1: Battle/Battlescars/Wounds/Injuries

A/N: So, here we go! I’m so excited to take part in this amazing challenge, and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s creations. I’m not sure if I will be able to post continuously for the next 30 days, but I’ll give it my best shot!

Kurt paced the hospital ward, up and down, up and down. He couldn’t sit, he couldn’t stay still, he couldn’t do anything until he knew that everything was okay.

He cursed himself in his head, cursed himself for not taking extra precautions. He had been so stupid, thinking that the arrest would be straight forward. Six months ago, they had managed to take down Shepherd, the world’s biggest terrorist, and her organisation. So, in his mind, stopping a drug cartel should’ve been a piece of cake. But he was wrong.

The events of the past two hours kept replaying in his mind, over and over again, his brain taunting him about all the mistakes he’d made.

So, because @dylancruca refuses to post her stuff, I’m gonna do it for her. :) 

This is seriously the most amazing AU-that-could-totally-have-been-canon. And you should go read it. And it will probably make you cry at some point, but you will love it so much that you will totally forgive it. And when you are done reading that, you should go read the sequel, Still the Only, which is just as amazing and sweet and touching.

               “Jane – ready to go? I thought we could maybe stop at that French restaurant over on Worth.”

                “Oh, um…” Jane’s gazed dropped as she stared at the floor, feeling the blush spreading across her face. “You mean, like a date?”

                Kurt laughed, placing his hands on her waist and pulling her closer to him. “Yes, Jane, a date. Dinner, maybe afterwards we could take a walk that doesn’t involve chasing down suspects, no paperwork to fill out. That sort of thing.”

                Jane couldn’t help but laugh, rolling her eyes at Kurt. With a small smile, she said, “It’s just that… I’m not very good at … dating.” Not that she had much experience, anyway. But then again, the last time she’d tried to date she’d run off just ten minutes in. Not to mention the kidnapping. It wasn’t that she thought that would happen with Kurt, but she couldn’t stop the knot from forming in the stomach at the thought. Dating seemed… a little daunting.

                “It’s not like it’s our first date,” Kurt said simply, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

                Jane looked up, confused. “What?”

                “Let’s see, we’ve known each other for a year, we’ve slept together…” he grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. “And we love each other. That’s at least 10th date territory, more like… I don’t know, 50th date or something.”

                “Well… when you put it like that… maybe dinner would be nice,” she smiled widely. She stepped closer to Kurt until there was no space between them, pressing a kiss to their still intertwined hands. “Tonight, you said?”

—————————————————————————————————-

Trying to write little ficlets instead of full stories. Hoping maybe that will spark a groove instead of the mostly nothingness and frustration that’s been happening.

Summary: Patterson and Tasha get to go solve Jewel Staite’s treasure hunt because they’re, y’know, the puzzle solvers on the team.

Characters: Patterson and Tasha Zapata

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: This is gay and I wrote it in like five hours.

“You couldn’t have found…anything else?” Tasha grumbles, pulling her red beanie down at the back. “The FBI suddenly has no undercover budget?”

Patterson manages a grin, her cheeks pinked by the chilly breeze. “It’s cute. Coding chic for the coder. The leather jacket’s a nice touch, too.” She gestures down to her own outfit. “Me, on the other hand…”

“I don’t know,” Tasha says, her lips quirking, “I think HR got a call from the 1950s last week. Red plaid is making a comeback.”

They’re nine days into their relationship when Jane gets the flu. And not just any flu but the flu to end all flus, where she’s running a 103 degree fever and can’t keep anything down and her cold sweats are making it impossible for her to sleep.

She tries to go back to her safe house, not wanting to get him sick but he won’t hear any of it and instead stays home to take care of her.

At first she resists, mumbling something about her puke not being sexy. But he simply chuckles, telling her that everything about her is sexy as he holds her hair back for her while they sit on the bathroom floor in front of the toilet.

On night two, her fever spikes and she nearly faints on her way to the bathroom and he takes her to the emergency room, pacing back and forth while the doctors examine her. Finally a nurse comes to get him and he rushes to her side, relieved to see some color back in her cheeks.

She’s wearing a hospital gown and hooked up to an IV and he takes her hand in his, pressing his lips to her forehead, happy to feel her fever has gone down.

“Dehydrated,” she mumbles, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “All that sexy puking,” she adds, her lips curving into a smile and he laughs, nodding as he reaches up to wipe the tear from the corner of his eye.

“I love you,” he whispers, sitting down on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair off her face as she closes her eyes.

“Don’t - Tash, you can’t–” Patterson’s chin drops to her chest because it’s useless. As soon as Weller closed the door behind him and Jane, Tasha was on the move, pressing herself to the door and waving a hand behind herself to shush both Patterson and Reade.

Reade is already wiping his hands on a napkin. “All this damn champagne and we’re not drinking any of it.” Three bottles at least, and he knows he won’t see a single one open. “The entire NYO heard him say he loves her, why are we pretending we didn’t?”

“We’re not. It’s just, you know, he’s our boss and Jane is…Jane,” Patterson replies. “We’ve all seen her at her most naked. Literally, so. You know. Give them this.”

Tasha whispers from the door. “Yeah, I got shot in the neck saving the world from her mom. I deserve to know what’s happening.”

So, they said I could go anywhere. But this is where I wanna be. I love you, too, Kurt.

“She said it. She said it,” Tasha reports, and at that Reade’s laying a crisp twenty on top of her coat. Standing on her tiptoes, she looks through the peephole and then darts back to the kitchen bar. “Okay, they’re making out in the hallway, that’s another twenty.”

“Are you kidding? They couldn’t wait until we left?”

Speaking of,” Patterson interjects. “We should. Leave. Go away. Let them keep confessing things to each other.”