Books

Published Works

Please hold.

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Fanfiction

I’ve been writing in the Fairly Legal fanfiction space since November 2012, right after the show was canceled. I’ve met some incredible people through this experience.

However, I’m generally not a one-draft writer, and I’ve generally posted slightly cleaned up versions of my first drafts, which occasionally have typos. I may or may not clean those up over time, just: fair warning.

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No Uncertain Terms

Currently 23 chapters and over 81,000 words long, this fic starts in Season 2, episode 6 (“What They Seem”) and continues past the Finale time frame. I don’t change anything that happens in the show, but I take liberties with what happens in between scenes. A lot of liberties.

The story alternates between Ben and Kate’s point of view and, less frequently, Justin’s. Close third person (past tense), which is what most people are used to reading.

Completion: I estimate this is 85-90% complete at present.

Kate woke the next morning, and the first thing she felt was how she was holding the pillows.

“Oh, no no no,” she said, leaping out of bed and walking backwards, nearly tripping over some shoes she’d put next to the dresser. “That did not just happen.” She finally reached the wall and leaned up against it for support. She stared at the pillows as though they’d been a scorpion poised for attack.

She didn’t go to bed wishing Ben were holding her all night on Lauren’s couch. It just hadn’t happened. She didn’t go to sleep crying because he hadn’t been there with her. And she did not proposition him last night and completely blow it.

If anything showed how wrong she was about who Ben was, it was his reaction and the fact that he’d left. If he really were that empty, he wouldn’t have thought twice about taking her up on her offer. Damn her for being so completely wrong.

But that didn’t matter because: It. Had. Not. Happened. Last night: Did. Not. Exist.

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I Don’t Have To Do Anything

Currently 15 chapters and 25,000 words long, this fic starts in Season 2, episode 8 (“Ripple of Hope”) and continues in its own timeline (breaking canon). The first (and odd) chapters are written by my friend Autumn Rayne, and the even chapters by me. After she wrote the first one, I asked her, “Was your latest story a one-shot or the opening to a longer piece?” Then I wrote a follow-up and said, “Tag, you’re it!” Really.

Autumn started this story in first person present tense from Ben’s point of view, so it’s continued that way.

Completion: We’re not done yet.

Last update: November 23, 2013, version 0.15 (’cause there’s 15 chapters). Now with new and improved links.

Then I quietly open my own office door and see her lying on my couch, fully clothed, eyes closed, holding one of the throw pillows in her arms. For a moment, I can pretend that she’s thinking of holding me. My lips curl into a smile.

I cross to the drawer I keep a blanket in, pulling it out and draping it gently over her slumbering form. It hugs her contours in ways that make me want to lick my lips in desire. I don’t lick them simply because I’m afraid she’ll open her eyes and see, and it will be more awkward.

She murmurs softly, but her eyes remain closed. I note the heels she’s declined to take off, and I worry about my hideously expensive couch that the firm cannot afford to replace or even repair. It’s stupid, but it’s also a great excuse. I kneel by her feet and take the black pump in my right hand, her ankle genly in my left, and delicately remove her shoe. I watch her face, but nothing. She’s asleep.

Her toes are a thing of beauty, and I don’t say that lightly. I’m not exactly a foot fetishist, but I like nice feet. Given how many rings she wears, I half expected her to have a toe ring, and I’m a little disappointed that she doesn’t.

I remove the other shoe just as gingerly and have just set it on the floor when her eyes bolt open. “Benedict Yancy Grogan, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

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