Hey! I just discovered your writing and absolutely love it, so might I request writer and editor au, please? :)
I didn’t know what ship you wanted, so I just went with some platonic maysimmons because I haven’t written them in awhile!
“Jemma, I know you’re in there,” she groans at her editor’s voice, head thumping against the desk.
“It’s open!” she shouts, voice muffled by the wood, and she listens to the door open and shut, eyes staying shut.
“I brought you tea, and fish and chips from that bar on the corner you like so much,” Jemma perks up at the mention of food, and Melinda May rolls her eyes in amusement, setting the food out on the under-used kitchen table. “Go wash your hands. And maybe put a clean shirt on.”
Jemma looks down at the faded Doctor Who shirt she has on, eyes widening at the various stains covering the blue fabric.
“I shall...be right back,” she stammers, and May just gives her a half-smile before returning to setting the food out.
Jemma brushes her teeth, combs her hair, and changes her shirt before she comes back out- May is doing the rather precarious stack of mugs in the sink, and she simply nods to the delicious smelling food waiting for her.
“So Jemma. You still haven’t sent me a draft of the sequel to Maveth,” May starts conversationally as Jemma pops a chip into her mouth. She grimaces, chewing, before she sighs, shoulders dropping in defeat.
“I have the basic concept, but I can’t get any of it to flow,” she waves her hands in the air, frustrated. “I just feel like maybe this was my one good book. I don’t have another one in me.”
“Jemma, you wrote Maveth in six months,” May reminds her, raising an eyebrow. “And it was damn good, even before the rewrites. I have faith in you- I wouldn’t have signed you otherwise.”
Jemma’s lips quirk at that, and she ducks her head, dragging another chip through some ketchup. “I could show you what I have? See if you have any suggestions?”
May nods, a genuine smile crossing her face as she settles across from Jemma. “Let’s figure this out together.”
